The 5 Most Annoying Oscar Nominations

Like you, I predicted most of this morning's Oscar nominees -- but that doesn't mean I'm too proud to spew a little bile. Here are my five nominees for "Most Annoying Nominee." Maybe I'll get Roberto Benigni to unveil the winner and spray him/her with seltzer later next month.

1. Rooney Mara in The Girl I Ignore at the DMV

Forget that The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is just a PBS Masterpiece whodunit disguised with Nordic permafrost and Hot Topic gift cards. Focus on the more obvious weirdness: Rooney Mara’s performance as the titular inkee adds no depth or urgency to Stieg Larsson’s flatly rendered savant. She adds facial symmetry, which is appreciated, but I came away from David Fincher’s pretty hate machine wondering how people like my parents devoured Lisbeth Salander’s boring vindictive streak for three straight tomes.There’s no there there! Just costuming, raccoon maquillage, and Scissorhandian emoting. Mara’s hilarious accent was a bonus nuisance, and it appears she earned kudos over Charlize Theron for having a skim-milk complexion and a haircut made from staplers. Sick.

2. Jonah Hill in Superbland

No. No to Jonah Hill. You do not win an Oscar nomination for playing a somber, somehow less dimensional version of the nerdy kid football strategist from Little Giants. Have you seen Little Giants? It’s a Rick Moranis family comedy about a misfit Pop Warner football team and their rise to competence. Ed O’Neill’s in it, like a champ. Moneyball is the adult-y, talk-y upgrade of Little Giants, and you better believe Rick and Ed garnered zero Oscar mentions for their brave portrayals of grown men in windbreakers. Am I sore about that? Yes, now that Jonah Hill is gold-certified for his sporty mumblings.

3. Two Song Nominees?!

This hurts. The Best Original Song category is supposed to be a hilarious showcase of musicians ranging from Irene Cara and Carly Simon to Marvin Hamlisch and Three 6 Mafia. It’s a loony Wide World of Sports cavalcade. It should not be a duel between a Muppet ditty and a forgotten tune from the Rio soundtrack. Has there ever been a category in Oscar history to feature only two nominees? Hell, every Oscar category should have at least two Redgraves listed alone -- and then three lesser mortals. This is an insult to the very thing the Academy stands for: showing us a whole bunch of losers’ reactions while Phil Collins clicks his heels in victory.

4. War Horse: The Many Adventures of Whinny the Snooze

Is there a human being who wanted to see War Horse? The previews essentially promised, “None of the charm of the Broadway version – all the loudness and horseyness of a Lisa Frank notebook cover!” War Horse stole Best Picture space from genuinely provocative movies like Margin Call and Young Adult, and I have to throw a horsey grimace at that. While Jeremy Irvine is a comely little jockey I’d follow into a burning glue factory, the movie is a snidely overcooked Oscar cheeseball. National Velveeta, y’all.

5. Max Von Sydow in Extremely Frustrating Old Guy With the Incredibly Lame Tattoos

Guess what: This movie does not suck. It’s cloying autism theater in the vein of Rain Man, yes -- but spitfire wunderkind Thomas Horn does a great job as the traumatized youth at the heart of Stephen Daldry’s epic. The problem is the supporting characters, who all feel like Hallmark Channel caricatures spring-loaded with Precious Moment dialogue and plasticene tears. Viola Davis as the random weeping chick? Jeffrey Wright as the sentimental dude? And worse: Screen legend Max Von Sydow as the mute grandfatherly figure who flashes hand tattoos reading “Yes” and “No” when asked questions. First of all: Can’t you just nod or shake your head, jerk? And secondly, this is a not a wordless revelation in the tradition of Holly Hunter’s The Piano work or Patty Duke’s The Miracle Worker portrayal (the latter may be the greatest supporting performance of all time, actually). This is just an old guy who doesn’t talk or make us feel. He’s a pain in the ass. And now he’s worth more Oscar gold than Jeremy Irons in Margin Call and Albert Brooks in Drive. Appropriately, the rest of my rage will go on wordless.