Baffled by Bafta ...

Bafta must have neglected their morning coffee this morning, with Avatar nominated as their Best Drama - best cgi certainly, but drama?

James Cameron doesn't do that, any more than his wife does insight. I can only assume The Hurt Locker is riding some "let's support our brave troops" sentiment; whilst Nowhere Boy drifts in the syrup of beatified Beatle sentiment. In contrast, Sex & Drugs & Rock N Roll sears; and Me & Orson Welles imposes.

In fact, other than Christopher Waltz's faceted Nazi, it's immersed biopic portrayals that impressed me; with actors Serkis/McKay/Streep/Scott-Thomas transforming themselves. Best Picture [not prettiest, or sweatiest], surely District 9; for sneaking in such extensive social commentary, under the guise of entertainment (in reverse contrast to Precious). The remaining primary Bafta category of Best Director, I would suggest being awarded to Duncan Jones; for achieving such depth of emotion, and coherence of story/acting/soundtrack/sfx to engage & involve his audience - without emptily spending hundreds of millions of dollars over the course of an entire decade.

If Bafta do succumb to the pull of commerciality/sentimentality/jingoism, as we have come to expect from other award bodies, then they should be fully prostitutive - by nominating All About Steve in every category [you know a film is bad when it's pulled from distribution a week after its general release. Not even the stagnant pondlife that is Did You Hear About The Morgans? had that happen!].

@LucasBlack : [a few] Gremlins ...

Hey, don't knock Gremlins too much - I found myself with a date as a result of this movie. My arm being relentlessy grabbed at every "scary" moment, until even I realised it couldn't be that frightening, and that some subterfuge was occurring.

Lessons learnt: women are sneaky, and the best things happen on the back row of the cinema.

Actually said incident was a formative personal insight: too inobservant to be come hithered by the batting of eyelashes and the fluttering of fans, too refined to be drawn by the display of a push-up bra.