Star Trek Into Darkness (Release Date: 5-16-2013)

        The corporate big-wigs and studio heads knew there would be a sequel to 2009's Star Trek reboot since before the do-over was even released. Principle photography began on January 12th, 2012, initially set for a release date a mere half-year later before being bumped all the way to last Thursday, May 16th. But even with all these roaming numbers and dates, there is one day that truly changed the fate of the new Star Trek films forever: January 25th, 2013. Four months ago tomorrow, that was the day when director J.J. Abrams, Steven Spielberg for the digital media generation, agreed to hop directly from Gene Roddenberry's wheelhouse over to George Lucas', signing on to helm the first in a new series of Star Wars films. What at first felt like a kind of adultery has unearthed even larger ramifications in the months since, each franchise baring the weight and implications of the other.

        And to think, just a half-year ago, it was just a movie. Re-teaming nearly the entire cast from the beloved 2009 entry, Into Darkness again stars a wily, dangerously self-assured Chris Pine as Captain James T. Kirk, and Zachary Quinto as his rhetoric-spewing, biologically-stoic first mate, Spock. The two again clash, Kirk once more knocked down a peg by Spock's compulsion toward rule-abiding, right before the peril of Admiral Pike (Bruce Greenwood) continues to set the main plot in motion. What's this plot, you ask? Why, it's a revenge mission to track down the quasi-human terrorist played by a usually-attractive foreigner (I see your Eric Bana, and raise you a Benedict Cumberbatch!) who hit the crew right where it hurts, and just might have much, much bigger plans in store.

        If you're experiencing a little déjà vu, you're not alone; while Into Darkness is a fun watch for nearly all of its two hours plus runtime, there's a sense that things have already gotten a bit stale. Many of the '09 entry's cute nods to the original series are repeated almost verbatim, the players seem to be experiencing the very same character arcs all over again, and there's enough running around that damn ship to exhaust a cross country team. The only immediately observable tweak comes in the form of an even greater emphasis on action, a ratio of story-telling to things-blowing-up that was already out of sync in the first film, and is now pushed to the outer-limits of space. It works well to get you engaged at first, an adrenaline shot of an action sequence opening the film in sublime fashion, but by the time Spock goes latter-day John McClane to track down the baddie in the finale, you might need a cup of coffee, or a nap.

        This isn't such a problem in, say, the Transformers movies, where the most memorable things about Shia LaBeouf and Megan Fox are a Strokes t-shirt, and a bare midriff over a steaming vehicle. We like these Star Trek characters, and it's a testament to Abrams' cast and the director's understanding of human elements that we still connect despite the rampant chaos. Pine and Quinto's bromance again takes center-stage, endearing, funny, and actually kind of touching when it's not pushing too hard (you'll know the moment when you see it, and no, I don't care if it's a reference. They still tried to wring emotion out of it, so mocking laughter is fair game). It's also an honest-to-goodness knee-slapper, an increasing point of interest for big budget film-makers all over Hollywood of which Abrams and Joss Whedon appear to be the forefathers. Finally, the thing is flat-out gorgeous, a flick that cost millions to make, and never fails to look the part. From costumes to camera work to production design, Into Darkness is eye candy through-and-through. Piles of cash burn right before your eyes!

        But despite all the impressively mounted set-pieces and glittering surfaces, Star Trek Into Darkness feels smaller than it should. Part of this is because of the aforementioned broken-record syndrome, but a lot has to do with that fateful day, January 25th, 2013. The fact that Abrams would bail on Trek for Wars is the final piece of a puzzle that we all should have put together long ago: The last two Star Trek films wish they were the Star Wars prequels, and vice versa.

        Abrams' Roddenberry revision jolted a beloved franchise back to life with excitement, nostalgia, and unmissable sizzle, all spheres in which George Lucas' latest trilogy failed miserably. The lambasted prequels wove politics and stayed pacing into a universe that wanted nothing to do with them. One product is clearly superior to the other, but all of the enormity, destruction, and kinetic energy that J.J. and company wedge unnecessarily into Star Trek Into Darkness reveal what we should have known from the start: Abrams has been devoutly Team Wars all along. Fun as these last two Enterprise outings were, this feels like a good break-up. The proven hit maker finally gets to hold what's really been his baby all along, and Star Trek, given new legs by the last two installments, can finally take its time with characters we've learned to love again. Abrams' Trek might have prospered, but as certain, 'spinning wheels,' moments of Into Darkness will readily attest, it was never designed to live long.

Grade: B-

Vampire Weekend: Modern Vampires of the City (Release Date: 5-14-2013)

        Forget everything you know about Vampire Weekend. Or... wait a minute. Maybe don't? Much has been made of the maturation that the band's latest release represents, music scribes everywhere noting how the boys have put down a few of their old tricks, and picked up a few new ones. And while the african influences and whitest-of-white collar lyrical mentalities have begun to fade, I can't help but see many critics as throwing the baby out with the bathwater. How much could these guys have really changed if their songs still contain lines like "Back back, way back/I used to front like Angkor Wat/Mechanicsburg, Anchorage/and Dar es Salaam," and are powered by zippy, weightless guitars? And yet, there's this tangible difference between Modern Vampires of the City and everything that the band's done up to this point. I've spent a long time soul searching for the answer, and this is where I've arrived: It's just better.

        Don't get me wrong; I've loved these guys from the start, and no, my inner hipster had no trouble writing that line whatsoever, thankyouverymuch. Modern raises the stakes in just about every imaginable fashion, from its extended length and track list, to its somehow unpredictable and immediate song structures, to Ezra Koenig's suddenly soul-baring lyrics. It turns, 'Hey, hey, hey, hey!' into Ya Hey, thumbing its nose at both God and Outkast in the process. It employs auto-tune and harpsichord on the same damn song, and has the audacity to use the track as the first single. Everywhere you look, Modern Vampires of the City is having its cake, and eating it, too. 

        That aforementioned lead single, Step, proved mightily indicative of the album at large. It's far more spacious than these guys have ever dared before, dolling out a melody that feels like the wiser spiritual cousin of M79 in languid, self-assured movements. The lyrics, which tell the story of a young man opening up to the world and the love around him, would feel canned if not so beautifully penned and uttered by Koenig, sharing more of himself here than either pervious albums could have possibly foreseen. Both as a single and on the LP itself, Step, is followed by Diane Young, a gonzo speed-demon of a thing that's emerged as the primary track to traverse the airwaves thus far. It's mad-cap vocal distortion and unlimited, 'baby's,' have delighted as many fans as they've frustrated; the song has grown on me a ton since I first heard it a few months ago, but there's positively no mistaking it as the album's best tune. In other words, don't let Diane Young dissuade you from Modern. Even if that 2:40 burst of weirdo glory doesn't do it for you, there's a mountain of other treasures to sort through.

        Take Hannah Hunt, for instance, a number that could almost be seen as Diane Young's perfect foil. Koenig goes full on story-telling mode, relaying the details of a damaged couple's trip across the country, filled with minute details that somehow tower in meaning. The instrumentation is down-tempo and methodical, a variety of sounds employed, but never more than two at a time, guitars sliding contentedly below. The song finally erupts near the 3-minute mark, Koenig wailing the same chorus as before with a whole new sense of urgency and meaning. And then it's gone, refusing to overstay its welcome in the pursuit of a lofty epic, prompting endless repeated listens in the process.

        In the name of fairness, Modern Vampires is not without fault, the LP standing proudly among the most front-loaded I've ever heard in my life. A few songs that crop up near the end, Finger Back and Hudson among them, are certainly not bad tunes, but after that incredible seven song run that opens the album, they sadly emerge as something of an afterthought. Such a fate does not await Ya Hey, however, the only true home run hitter on the disc's backside, a stomp and chant that feels entirely irrepressible and immeasurably cathartic. Lengthy dissertations on the track's lyrics and meaning have been written and posted by the handful, but suffice to say, it's just about the headiest dissection of religious expectations and doubts that you'll ever hear in a pop song. It's subversive, and potentially a bit egomaniacal, but there's no denying its ambitions or its intimacy, and to the right ear, it's also strangely touching.

        Vampire Weekend's self-titled debut arrived a little over six year's after The Strokes' now-canonical first disc, Is This It?, and it's easy to view Julian Casablancas and the boys as a cautionary tale of sorts. Both exploded out of New York City on a tidal wave of hype, both favored fashion, opulence and cool over the heart-on-sleeve aesthetic independent music tends to favor, and both took a singular (see: limited) style, and rode it all the way to the bank. But where The Strokes struggled to write both songs that stood up to their lo-fi glory days, as well as tunes that broadened their horizons, Vampire Weekend manages both. They've obliterated the notion that they might be a one trick pony without ever fully betraying what caught people's attention in the first place, which simply has to be the very hardest part of moving from, 'new,' to, 'established.' 

        By this point in their career, The Strokes had already released First Impressions of Earth, and haven't gotten back on the horse since. It already felt (and continues to feel) like a foregone conclusion that Is This It? would represent the peak of their powers, but no such aura hangs over Modern Vampires of the City... in fact, it's quite the opposite. The LP plays less like a summation of the band's collective talent than a promise that there are plenty more surprises and triumphs yet to come. These guys are only getting started. A bold declaration of a band that is here to stay, and 2013's best album to date.

Grade: A

Iron Man 3 (Release Date: 5-3-2013)

        A sequel is a beast unlike any other. Freed from the chains of character introduction and ground-work-laying, chapter two (or three, or four, or sixteen) has the capacity to explore a far wider array of possibilities. No longer is meeting the gang enough; plot structures and revelations triple in value. For all the films Marvel has released since the studio's coming-out party in 2008, only one has been a true sequel (Iron Man 2). Last year's The Avengers played more like the genesis story of the titular team, whereas Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Thor, and Captain America: The First Avenger all announce themselves as start-ups from the get-go. Enjoyable as it's been, the studio has essentially staged a five year meet-and-greet up to this point, the only exception coming in the form of Tony Stark's largely shrug-worthy second outing. We know the studio can get a ball rolling, but can they keep it that way?

        Picking up right where The Avengers left off, Robert Downey Jr.'s billionaire genius playboy is starting to see his smart-allick, one-step-ahead edge begin to slip. The extra-terrestrial throw-down that left New York in shambles has Stark experiencing bouts of PTSD, staying up all night tinkering on one new Iron Man suit after another. And that's only the start of the guy's problems. Enter The Mandarin (Ben Kingsley), a racially ambiguous super terrorist with a deep-burning hatred for the American way, and a penchant for televising chilling PSAs explaining just why. Stark decides to take the maniac head-on, leading the wise-cracker on a journey with more than a few surprises just around the bend.

        The above summary is vague for two reasons, the first being that Iron Man 3 works best when allowed ample liberty to subvert expectations, and the second caused by a simple case of amnesia; only a week after seeing the film, the actual plot-mechanics feel hazy, and, more to the point, inconsequential. What remains fresh in the memory is the movie's pulse, a crackling mix of humor, thrills, twists, and energy. Writer/Director Shane Black, making his franchise debut, has excellent rapport with Downey Jr., first witnessed in the hilarious dark comedy Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, a film to which IM3 owes more than anyone could have possibly foreseen. His touch with humor is unsurprising, but his management of the pacing and action are welcome surprises.

        He does have some problems with that pesky tone, though. The trouble is presented immediately, as to film opens with snarky voice-over under-scoring powerful images of destruction. Comedy and trauma don't often make for the best cocktail, and saddling a scene of The Mandarin literally setting a human body on fire next to silly old Downey Jr. and the silly old robot arms that help him make his suits doesn't really work. As a matter of fact, most of the dark stuff doesn't; why even dredge up national anxieties and images of true terror if, deep down, all you really want to be is a fun time at the flicks (undoubtably Iron Man 3's primary goal). To be fair, the heightened moments, tonally jarring as they may be, do often manage to raise the stakes in ways Marvel his proven fatally afraid of testing in the past.

        May 2013's big superhero tent-pole is a little messy; plot-holes abound, characters get lost, and that lack of emotional clarity certainly doesn't help. But to say that Iron Man 3 is anything less than a rollicking ride would be disingenuous, its lows possibly lower than your average Marvel, but its highs undoubtably higher. This is a studio with a firm grip on the quality control of their product, and even if (in the opinion of this writer, anyways) they have yet to really make a, 'wow,' movie, IM3 keeps their hit streak intact.

Grade: B

James Blake: Overgrown (Release Date: 4-9-2013)

        I love James Blake, but there was a point when I wasn't even sure I liked him. The UK musical prodigy first saw his work zooming across the internet in 2010, releasing a trio of EPs that witnessed no shortage of adulation. His looping, sample-heavy compositions flew right in the face of the riotous sound attack of the dominant American Dub-step scene, inviting listeners to choose a side in a genre at war with itself. Blake's earlier work was easier for me to appreciate than enjoy, which is perhaps why his self-titled debut LP came as such a surprise. The then-22-year-old stepped out of the producer's chair and walked straight up to the mic, dolling out an down-trodden electro-croon atop minimal beats that re-contextualized the wobble bass forever more. Today marks the release of his sophomore full-length, Overgrown, a disc destined to be seen as a swivel-point in Blake's duplicitous career. Would the soulful club-jammer return to his swirling, swelling, dance club dub, or travel further down the path of space-age R&B, and singer-songwriter rhetoric? The answer, somewhat mystifyingly, is both: a lot of both.

        One of the things that made James Blake such a unique, enveloping experience was its thematic clarity, the entire disc existing in the very same sound-world, one track flowing seamlessly into the next. This couldn't be further from the truth on Overgrown, an LP with a tendency to throw everything at the wall, and see what sticks. The hushed, contemplative title track/opener isn't even cold by the time follow-up I Am Sold is getting ready to party, a precipitous beat growing steadily out of unapologetic piano ballad fare. The two songs, as well as the album at large, share that same dusty, nocturnal quality that often characterizes Blake's work, but that's about where the similarities end. It's exciting to see such a talented young artist continue to push into new directions, but the lack of cohesion can make Overgrown feel less like an album, and more like a collection of songs.

        Introspective James gets to shine on the aforementioned Overgrown, as well as comparatively stripped-down soul-bearer Dlm, and twin down-tempo closers To The Last and Our Love Comes Back.  Rug-cutting James takes a spin on I Am Sold and dense, movement-prompting early singles Digital Lion and Voyeur (both stand-out tracks). As if the battle for the guy's musical identity wasn't complicated enough, Blake manages to split the difference on Life Round Here, and even invites RZA to rap over the hazy march of Take a Fall For Me. This sudden insertion of hip-hop is a major curve-ball, and I expect many to have the same wait-am-I-still-listening-to-the-new-James-Blake? gut-reaction that I experienced. It's an easy concept to root for, but while Blake's beat is more than up to the challenge, RZA's lyrics are not. Not that the words themselves have to be the primary valuation of a hip-hop performance, but hearing the Wu-Tang luminary reel off lines like, "Turn a square dance into a passion-hug," and, "Tender as the finger-touch of a new-born kid/I wouldn't trade her smile for a million quid," is jarring to say the least.

        Then there's Retrograde, Overgrown's lead single, and the best song of Blake's career thus far. Building out of almost nothing before turning it up to 11 just after the minute-and-a-half mark, the song's mysterious structure plateaus into crashing tidal waves of synths, trapping us inside of its white-knuckle grip. It's a track that balances beauty with intensity, new technology with olden structures, and just about every genre James Blake has touched up to this point (which is most of them, right?). That strange brew the troubadour seems to be working on for the entirety of the album is tantalizingly whole for all of 3:44, and then it's gone, sending index fingers racing for the, 'replay,' button.

        Overgrown is an album of growing pains, the work of an artist reaching for something truly transcendent. As Blake admits on that creaky, minimal title-track, "(He doesn't) want to be a star/But a stone on the shore/Long door, frame the wall/When everything's overgrown." If all the British wunderkind wanted was to continuously see his name up in lights, then following the exact path of previous success had to be his safest route. But Blake is more interested in the long run, being the rock that remains firm despite the continuous turning of the tides, a necessary element in a world full of disposable excess. It's a more-than-worthy goal, and I for one think the guy's got the chops to do it, but you don't get there by walking in a straight line. Overgrown might be something of a step back from James Blake, but it shows that one of music's most singular and wildly-talented voices is on the right track, and doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in order to stay there.

Grade: B

Kurt Vile: Wakin On A Pretty Daze (Release Date: 4-9-2013)

        In the rock genre, as well as at certain bars the nation over, effortlessness is often synonymous with cool. Just ask The Strokes, who used to play their every song with the nonchalance of a throw-away, until all their songs actually became throw-aways. Or Lou Reed, who remains a legend in the art of letting half-baked sentiments fall slowly out of his throat as if he couldn't care less about the words themselves. The modern landscape is saturated with artists well-versed in the art of working way, way smarter-than-harder, from Mac DeMarco, to Devendra Banhart, to Real Estate, but only one man is allowed to sit upon the throne. Heavy hangs the crown on Kurt Vile's head, the unrivaled ruler of Couldn't-Care-Less Kingdom, and Wakin On A Pretty Daze is nothing if not a massive reaffirmation of his kingship.

        Over 20 minutes longer than its lauded forbearer (Smoke Ring For My Halo) despite occupying the very same number of tracks, Wakin's songs are much more expansive and loosely constructed than their 2011 relatives. Seven of the disc's eleven tunes unspool over 5+ minutes, as compared to three on Vile's previous effort, the extra time gently peeling away layers of verse-chorus-verse rhetoric, unearthing an endless buffet of head-spinning axe-work. Opener Wakin On A Pretty Day, which felt like an unruly lead single upon initial release in early February, turns out to be a mission statement of sorts; the nine-and-a-half-minute jam session is far too long and hookless to have any business on the radio, but its enveloping, hypnotic powers are not to be doubted, and perfectly previewed what was on the way.

        Vile's guitar solos, which I'd wager make up at least half of the album's runtime (and much more than half of the aforementioned single), aren't the face-melters that one often associates with long-haired men doing battle on a fret board, but are entirely more intrinsic and inviting beasts. Everything Kurt Vile does with a six string feels natural and instinctive, each note perfectly selected, never straining or trading control for speed like so many of his rocker peers. Sure, a more lazy voice behind a microphone would be difficult to find, but the troubadour's croon, in both lyrics and intonation, has always taken a backseat to his instrumentation, a notion that Daze's thickened sonic world pushes even further. Vile even invites you in on this mixing room hierarchy, calling himself out of the sublimely speedy, aptly-titled Was All Talk by claiming, "There was a/Time in my/Life when they/Thought I was/All talk... Now take a look at my hands/Watch them go/Watch them go/Yeah, I'm going/Yeah, I'm gone." The majesty of the man's music comes not from his throat, but from his fingers.

        The difference between a, 'good,' Pretty Daze track and a, 'bad,' one is almost impossible to discern with the naked ear; pointing out specific high-points is a lot less important than just hitting play. That being said, the slow-burn groove of Girl Called Alex is worth celebrating, as is the sun-soaked mischief of Shame Chamber. Songs this perfect don't just write themselves, a fact that Vile reminds us of on his slow-motion wonderment of a closing track Goldtone, declaring, "Sometimes when I get in my zone/You'd think I was stoned/But I never, as they say/Touch the stuff." His glorious naturalism is the product of practice and fuss, a fact evidenced by the layers upon layers of exactingly-placed sounds that swirl astoundingly at the end of nearly every tune. That he can make it all look so easy is just the cherry on top, a dollop of performance art cool atop what simply has to be a painstakingly made work of art. Wakin is the finest Guy-Picks-Up-A-Guitar-And-Just-GOES album in recent memory, and an absolute assault on anyone who's ever had the audacity to call the guitar solo dead. Will you just go get it already?

Grade: A- 

Justin Timberlake: The 20/20 Experience (Release Date: 3-19-2012)

        Is there anyone who Justin Timberlake hasn't been over the course of his two decades of fame? The entertainer began his illustrious run on The Mickey Mouse Show at the ripe-old age of 12, the Disney gig soon swapped out in favor of headlining the boy-band-to-end-all-boy-bands, N*SYNC. When the 90's fad that had seen the band to the highest heights of fame suddenly disappeared into the ether, reinvention was once again in order, JT proving just as up to the task. The last time we saw the troubadour sing and strut, he was trading in some of his nice-guy sheen for come-hither lyrics and bedroom beats, but that was way back in 2006 (2007 if we're counting tour dates). His last 7+ years have been spent on the silver screen, and while his merit as an actor remains contested in certain circles, his steady stream of work (not to mention being cast by the likes of David Fincher and the Coen Brothers) ought to be validation enough. A couple of tuesdays ago saw his long-anticipated return to the world of music, and given the man's past, it should come as no surprise that The 20/20 Experience shows the chameleon employing a stark change of shades once again.

        The seedy, sweaty pulse of FutureSex/LoveSounds only makes cameos here; The 20/20 Experience is much more interested in live instrumentation, expansive sound worlds, and allusions to yesteryear's big-band glories. Timberlake has made this clear from the start of the disc's campaign for world (see: airwave and record sales) dominance, leading off with the aptly titled/themed single Suit & Tie, continuing with the formal aesthetic of nearly all promotional material. Though the album spans genres and ages with positively reckless abandon, the feeling that this isn't just a bunch of button-mashing remains welcomely constant. Be it the Motown strut of That Girl, or the caribbean rhythm of Let the Groove In, the album's instrumentation sounds like, you know, real instruments. Credit long-time Timberlake collaborator Timbaland, who's production is never less than lively and exciting, and who's never meet a risk he wasn't chomping at the bit to take. In fact, this propensity towards big gambles comes to define the record as a whole, as likely to magnetize as it is to repel.

        With this added sonic density comes ballooned-out song lengths; only one of 20/20's ten tracks clocks in at under five minutes, most prone to stretch out to around seven ticks. Presented in movements, most numbers burst forth from the word, 'go,' only to be reframed in a spacey, down-tempo redux in the closing moments. These bold structures, and the enveloping repetition which they employ, don't feel especially Top 40 friendly, and would likely prove endless amidst the A.D.D. onslaught of modern hit radio stations, but damn, can they fill up a room. It's an album that occupies space, and car speakers might not really be able to handle it.

        But perhaps even more eye-catching than the rampant genre-hopping or extended playtimes is the disc's overwhelmingly positive outlook, a major rarity in the work of towering pop stars. While it seems goofy to credit Timberlake's recent marriage to actress Jessica Biel as the source of all smiles, JT himself certainly welcomes the theory. The tracks here aren't so much about getting that girl as they are about already having that girl, and loving every damn minute of it. This is never more poignant than on Mirrors, a no-holds-barred avowal of his love and appreciation for his better half that gushes with unselfconscious affection. It's cheesy. We're talking, 'might cause bloating and nausea in those with lactose intolerance,' cheesy, but it never feels like a put-on. Timberlake plays his Romeo both epic and straight-faced, belting through the tune's bombastic twin movements, inviting all people and nations to bask in his over-the-top joy. It's one of the best songs of the year so far, and I'm still trying to decide exactly how guilty I feel for writing that.

        When it's all said and done, Justin Timberlake's latest is just about the last thing you'd expect: an album without a country. While its enormity and ambition might entice music nerds and elitists, an unmissable dose of corniness is nearly omni-present, the singer making embarrassing comparisons between his lover and addictive substances (Pusher Love Girl), crooning smoothly about Strawberry Bubblegum, and driving his Spaceship Coupe through a glittering cosmos of deserved eye-rolls. Those who just want to hear the guy bring SexyBack might even get a little bored, prone to skip outros, disinterested in the disc's joyous, contented world-view. All of this could lead to diminishing returns where bank accounts are concerned (though it sure hasn't yet), but those willing to take a moment and let Timberlake and Timbaland's ambitious offering marinate will almost undoubtably find themselves coming back for seconds. 

Grade: B+

Oscar Predictions 2013: Round One

        Did you really think I'd stop talking about the Oscars just because, you know, they already happened? You must not know me very well. I'm never (never!) done talking Oscars, even if my picks were largely foiled this last Sunday. Yes, going 12/21 overall (and a shameful 3/8 in major categories) is nothing to write home about (especially when you went 15/21 and 7/8 just the year before), but four whole days have passed, and I'm ready to get back up on the horse. Welcome to the very most arbitrary article ever posted on a blog chuck-full of them: My Oscar picks from a whole year out.

Best Picture:

1. The Wolf of Wall Street
        Last year was easy. There was a Spielberg-Lincoln movie, an Osama bin Laden film, a Les Misérables flick, and more. 2013 won't be so easy to predict from this far out, so we'll take it nice and easy with the top slot. No, I don't really like Wolf's chances to take the top prize, its subject matter both slightly out-dated, and potentially not to the Academy's liking, but with Leonardo DiCaprio in front of the camera, and Martin Scorsese behind it, the movie's almost a lock for a nomination. The director hasn't had a late-year release get shut-out of the big race since 1999's Bringing Out the Dead... enough said.

2. The Monuments Men
        The Academy loves George Clooney, even scrounging up a screenplay nod for the guy on 2011's already-forgotten The Ides of March. The silver fox puts his director's cap on once more, this time with a juicy story about art history and Nazis, and a cast featuring the likes of Daniel Craig, Matt Damon, John Goodman, Bill Murray, Cate Blanchett, and Clooney himself. What's not to like?

3. Gravity
        The last time director Alfonso Cuarón and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki teamed up, they made the masterpiece Children of Men, and somehow walked home empty handed on Oscar sunday. What makes their 2013 offering different? This far out, it appears to be the year's grandest spectacle, a road recently taken to gold-man glory by the likes of Life of Pi, Hugo, and Avatar. Having a pair of Academy favorites in your leading roles (Sandra Bullock and George Clooney) doesn't hurt either.

4. The Counselor
        This is where these pre-nominations become tricky: If The Counselor works out, I'll immediately bump all the way up to the #1 slot. It's the screenwriting debut of unmatched modern literary genius Cormac McCarthy, features Brad Pitt, Javier Bardem, Michael Fassbender, Cameron Diaz, and Penelope Cruz, and receives direction from over-due Ridley Scott. That said, it has to actually work out, and Scott's recent track record has been suspect at best.

5. Untitled David O. Russell Abscam Project
        Yeah, I know predicting a still-untitled movie to be a Best Picture nominee a mere year later is kind of crazy, but are you really going to bet against Russell after The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook? The guy is a straight-up prodigy when it comes to guiding actors, and with a line-up featuring Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, Louis C.K., and his famed Linings pair of Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper, betting on his flick is pretty easy.

6. Captain Phillips
        In nominating director Paul Greengrass for his otherwise ignored United 93, the Academy showed a clear liking for the helmer's intense, kinetic action. Phillips should prove more within their wheelhouse, relaying the true story of a Somali Pirate hijacking, and placing Tom Hanks front-and-center.

7. Nebraska
       Oscar loves Alexander Payne, and it's not difficult to see why. The guy makes films about families and mid-life crises that wring maximal emotional substance out of their familiar rhetoric. While the lead pairing of Bruce Dern and Will Forte might not read exactly like George Clooney and Jack Nicholson, the man's got a hell of a track record, and I'm not going to be the first to jump ship.

8. Inside Llewyn Davis
        Still can't decide if I have this one so high out of hope or faith. Judging on both synopsis and trailer, there's nothing about ILD that seems particularly Academy friendly, but the Coen Brothers' record speaks for itself. Three of their last four flicks have sat at the Best Picture table, excluding Burn After Reading (which arrived on the final year of five nominees), and including A Serious Man (a willfully esoteric effort that almost screamed, 'don't nominate me!'). One wonders if they're automatic invites at this point.

9. Fruitvale
          Yes, it's all unknowns, and yes, it's just a tiny Sundance flick, but if there's anything that the Best Picture category has made room for with its recent expansion, it's the, 'little movie that could.' 2012 saw Beasts of the Southern Wild ascend to prominence, The Tree of Life, The Artist, and Winter's Bone filling out analogous in recent years past. Unlike all the aforementioned films on this list, this one's already been seen, praised, and positioned for a run.

10. Before Midnight
        Like Fruitvale, the fact that this flick's already been witnessed and adored gives it a leg-up on other speculative options. It's sure to be the same walk-and-talk exercise as the previous two installments, but this trilogy has built up a boat-load of goodwill at this point. We'll see where it gets them.

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As of now, I am predicting these ten films to be nominated (I don't have some crazy math equation that helped me determine this number; these just seem like the ones). The following is where I rank the next movies in line.

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11. August: Osage County

12. Foxcatcher

13. Saving Mr. Banks

14. The Way, Way Back

15. A Most Wanted Man
16. The Great Gatsby

17. Serena

18. Trance

19. Ain't Them Bodies Saints

20. 

Devil's Knot

21. Out of the Furnace

22. Mud

23. The Fifth Estate

24. Dallas Buyer's Club

25. Prince Avalanche

26. The Butler

27. The Railway Man

28. Can a Song Save Your Life?

29. Labor Day

30. The Young & the Prodigious Spivet

31. Prisoners

32. Lowlife

33. Diana

34. Twelve Years a Slave

35. Only God Forgives

36. The Third Person

37. Elysium

38. Malvita

39. Lone Survivor

40. Rush

41. The Past

42. The Place Beyond the Pines

43. Frances Ha

44. Kill Your Darlings

45. Winter's Tale

46. The Zero Theorem

47. Blood Ties

48. Grace of Monaco

49. Blue Jasmine

50. The Wind Rises