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I fucking quit life. Fuck this so hard.
John Williams’ clattering woodwinds and blatty horns are apparently twice as good as Harry Escott’s heart-rending suites for a man torn apart by addiction.
Surprise of surprises, Shame got robbed, and more than once.
Speaking of getting robbed, where’s Cliff Martinez? Trent and Atticus?
No Martinez (Drive and Contagion were my favorite scores of the year, especially the former) and no Reznor/Ross. There is no hope.
I don’t mean to keep posting about this (IDGAF about the Oscars ever, really), but it’s just so hilariously inept.
