We Chose Our Dream Oscar Winners

I have bad news for anyone planning to watch this Sunday's Oscars expecting a night of surprises: Damien Chazelle's fantastical, heartbreaking, and absurdly divisive La La Land is probably going to win pretty much every award it's nominated for. Sure, Ryan Gosling has close to zero chance in nabbing Best Actor—smart betting is split on Denzel Washington's complex performance in his adaptation of August Wilson's Fences and Casey Affleck's quietly towering turn in Manchester by the Sea—and there's a chance that Barry Jenkins's immersive Moonlight will take either Best Director or (more unlikely) Best Picture by way of categorial vote-splitting. Otherwise, start steeling yourself for hearing people say "And the winner is… La La Land" for five hours on Sunday night.

To say the least, such mass inevitability takes the guesswork out of this year's Oscar season. So, instead of making predictions, we've thrown together our own wildest-dreams picks for taking home the night's top prizes. Think of this as an Alternate Universe Oscars, designed to highlight those who didn't even get nominated but deserve recognition. One caveat: We've stuck to the Big Six awards—all four acting categories, Best Director, and Best Picture—for the sake of brevity. So, if you're looking for a deep dive on costume designers, you might want to go elsewhere. Otherwise, read on for a highly subjective take on who we'd want to win, in a perfect world.

Jason Bateman, Zootopia

Let's be real: Moonlight's Mahershala Ali not only has this award in the bag, but it's highly deserved, as his performance is arguably a crown jewel in a film filled with stunning turns. One of the film's most devastating scenes takes place when his character, the compassionate drug dealer Juan, breaks down shortly after talking with "Little" (Alex Hibbert)—you can see the pain on his face, which is why I chose Bateman's performance as con-artist fox Nicholas P. Wilde in Disney's sneakily subversive Zootopia here.

I'm not going to lie: I don't typically like Bateman in anything and have found his smugness (not easily washed off from his Arrested Development days) to be a major turn-off. But maybe all I needed was to not see his face, since his "thing" finally seems to work in Zootopia. The absence of physicality gives a new and slightly more adorable shape to his typically sarcastic persona. Bateman's had a string of duds when it comes to live-action fare (Horrible Bosses 2, anyone?), but his contributions to Zootopia suggest a better, more animated future for his career.

Rachel Weisz, The Light Between Oceans

Derek Cianfrance's latest film—a simultaneously scandalous and weepy adaptation of M.L. Stedman's 2012 novel of the same name—was, to put it lightly, fucking ridiculous. But look beyond the movie-of-the-week premise (of which I refuse to spoil here, just find it out for yourself), and you'll find a film with gorgeous cinematography, breathtaking location shooting, and astounding performances (including a real-life romance between leads Alicia Vikander and Michael Fassbender).

One of those performances was turned in by the always reliable Rachel Weisz, who captures grieving mother Hannah Roennfeldt with a complexity that elevates the source material beyond mere camp, if only fleetingly. Weisz had a solid 2016—she provided a perfect foil to a frumpy, disheveled, and near-unrecognizable Colin Farrell in The Lobster—and her turn in The Light Between Oceans was the latest reminder of the potency of her talent, regardless of what it's lent to.

Karyn Kusama, The Invitation

She had a strong debut with 2000's Girlfight, but Karyn Kusama has spent the past decade largely languishing in what Amy Heckerling recently referred to as "director jail" after the high-profile flop of 2005's antiseptic adaptation of the seminal MTV cartoon Aeon Flux. Kusama took a shot at the horror genre in 2009 with the Diablo Cody–written (remember her?) Jennifer's Body, but it was last year's The Invitation that truly cemented her mastery of the genre.

A ticking time bomb of a movie that starts out simmering and ends with gory, tense (and literal) explosions, The Invitation was an undoubted comeback for Kusama—and she's capitalized on it since with My Only Living Son, her excellent contribution to this year's otherwise so-so horror anthology XX. At the very least, her just-short-of-satirical depictions of selfish, vainglorious West Coasters might make you think twice before hopping on that JetBlue to LAX.

Andrew Garfield, Silence

This one's cheating, kind of: Garfield is already nominated in this category for Mel Gibson's World War II epic Hacksaw Ridge. Despite Gibson's obvious awfulness, Hacksaw Ridge is a very fine film, largely due to Garfield's pure-hearted portrayal of conscientious objector and lifesaving WWII medic Desmond T. Doss. But the definitive Garfield performance of 2016 is smack dab at the heart of Martin Scorcese's astounding and challenging meditation on faith, Silence.

Save for a nod for its lovely cinematography, Silence—a film that, with time, will surely be recognized as one of Scorcese's best—was largely shut out of the Oscars. And that's understandable: It's a three-hour epic about Christianity, with long stretches of dialogue in Japanese, and even longer stretches with very little dialogue at all. (It's also brutally and unforgivingly violent in its scenes of torture.) Garfield's turn as a 17th-century Jesuit priest is just one of Silence's marvelous slow-moving parts, but his radiant humanity in the role is impossible to ignore.

Hailee Steinfeld, The Edge of Seventeen

I know, snubbing Amy Adams's  Arrival performance—a fine turn in a career that's been nothing but peaks so far—can, even in this imaginary exercise, seem a little cruel. But I found myself utterly overwhelmed by Steinfeld's real, hilarious, and touching role as an angsty and emotionally well-rounded teenager in Kelly Fremon Craig's directorial debut, and there was a touch of relief felt, too.

Steinfeld's career since breaking out in the Coen Brothers remake of True Grit (which earned her first Oscar nod) has taken a few interesting turns: She's tried her hand at pop music, and after the massive success of 2015's Pitch Perfect 2, she's tied to one of the most successful non-comic-book franchises going. So watching her flex her chops in The Edge of Seventeen is a joy even when it's heartbreaking—and it's reminiscent of an unlikely parallel: the 2003 Mandy Moore teen drama How to Deal, which similarly mines teenage emotional chaos. How to Deal, granted, is a cinematic dish best enjoyed with a sprinkling of irony—but Steinfeld's turn here is pure sincerity, straight from the tap.

Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping

I'm being serious! Speaking of seriousness, just take a look at these Best Picture nominees. They are, quite literally, no laughing matter. The closest thing to anything funny in any of these movies is when Kevin Costner says "Here at NASA, we all pee the same color" in Hidden Figures. Most of these movies are good! (I haven't seen Lion yet.) But they're also impossibly stuffy, as if there wasn't anything at the multiplexes in 2016 that didn't bring any sort of straight-up, stupid-as-shit hilarity that was also genius in its execution.

Which brings me to Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, the Lonely Island's cinematic mockumentary opus lampooning the music industry (and, more specifically, Justin Bieber's own tour doc Never Say Never). In addition to not receiving a single Oscar nomination (not even for the brilliant Michael Bolton–featuring "Incredible Thoughts"), Popstar also ate shit at the box office, which is a shame because it deserves to be seen by everyone at least once. If you've found yourself crying with laughter over a late-night viewing of Step Brothers—or, if you just need a brief escape from the crushing mundanity of daily life and want to find solace in the image of a penis-less Andy Samberg—then Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping is the only film you need. Best Picture? Try Best Picture Ever.

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