Sean Weitner | Ach-ting

The biggest disappointment for a lot of us in the acting categories was Naomi Watts being passed over for her performance in Mulholland Drive. (I promise, not all of these conversations are going to be about Mulholland Drive.) For me, there was no single thing — no picture, no actor, no scene, no script, nothing — in any of 2001's films that blew my mind like her in this film. It's so plainly superior to Sissy Spacek in In the Bedroom, Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge and Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones's Diary that it makes David Lynch's direction nomination for the same film seem like condescension; the Academy saying, "We acknowledge that what you had going in that picture outstrips what was achieved by the other films we've acknowledged, but at the same time, it's too much for us to handle, so we'll sate the artsy/hipster-types by giving you the nomination and hope that keeps 'em quiet." And Watts gives a too-much-for- you-to-handle performance.

On the flipside, I'm plently pleased that Sean Penn got nominated for I Am Sam. I think Andy Ross gave the most successful evaluation of that film that I've seen (albeit for another, registration-required publication), and I'll be interested to hear what he has to say about Penn's nomination. The reason I didn't pick it in my predictions was that I expected the Academy to follow this rare example of Roger Ebert's wrongheadedness, taken from his review:

Not long ago a veteran moviegoer told me that when he sees an actor playing a mentally retarded person, he is reminded of a performer playing "Lady of Spain" on an accordion: The fingers fly, but are the song or the instrument worthy of the effort? The kind of performance Penn delivers in I Am Sam, which may look hard, is easy, compared, say, to his amazing work in Woody Allen's Sweet and Lowdown. As Robert Kohner observes in his Variety review: "In a way, Edward Norton's turn in The Score, in which his thief used a mental handicap as a disguise, gave the trade secret away when it comes to this sort of performance."

The kind of performance that Dustin Hoffman gave in Rain Man is easy; Charlie Babbitt was so autistic that he never had to interact with anyone — the heart of acting! — and thus Hoffman got cocooned by his gimmick. Sean Penn is totally involved in this performance, alive and astoundingly communicative. It may be that the Academy likes it for all the wrong reasons — the equivalent of a non-sophisticate being impressed to hear a hack play "Lady of Spain" on an accordian — but Penn does something amazing. In a bizarro alternate universe where the Oscars really truly were merit-based, he still would have been nominated for this performance.

Andy Ross | Ach-ting (finger thrust upward)

I am stunned — stunned that Naomi Watts was passed over! Stunned! Maybe the Academy thought she was just too good. There was so much meat to her performance that it was just too easy to disregard as over-the-top. I am still stunned. Maybe it's that she's in limbo; she neither out-of-nowhere, preteen ingenue (she did play Jet Girl in Tank Girl) or big-name box-office draw. I don't think this is a category for those who work their way up — best actor or actress have to jump out of the gate from the beginning of their screen career. The toiling artist is meant for the supporting categories.

As for Sean Penn, here is what I said about I Am Sam. Almost every critic totally misread the movie. This is melodrama, not drama. If drama were poker, melodrama would be poker playing most of its cards face up, and really paying attention to those it keeps in its hand. Sure, Penn lets all his emotions spill out of a retarded character. That's what he needs to do. What makes this a good performance, worthy of the nomination, is that he hides a lot in the metaphoric stories about the Beatles, and the Kramer v. Kramer speech in the courtroom. That's what makes the film interesting, and Penn played it superbly.

Rasheed Newson | The nomination that wasn't there

Poor Billy Bob Thornton. He delivered two of his most compelling performances last year: as a doormat husband who gets big dreams, stoops to committing high crimes and watches as his actions ripple out into waves large enough to swallow lives in the woefully ignored The Man Who Wasn't There; and as the seething racist prison guard who falls into a sexual relationship with a black woman in Monster's Ball. Yet he didn't receive a best actor's nomination for either role.

His Monster's Ball co-star Halle Berry got a nomination. But nothing for Mr. Thornton. Denzel Washington got a nomination for a role that was not remarkable or memorable. But nothing for Mr. Thornton. Sean Penn got a nod for a performance I found grating and, well, begging for an Oscar. But nothing for the rock solid efforts of Mr. Thornton.

I can only suspect that maybe Billy Bob beat himself. Maybe he split the voters who appreciate his work. It's a shame, but cheer up, Billy boy. It's Oscar's loss.

Sean Weitner | Splitsville

Rasheed, you're right on; Thornton must have beaten himself. See also Gwyneth Paltrow in Best Supporting Actress (Royal Tenenbaums or Anniversary Party?) and James Gandolfini in Best Support Actor (Man Who Wasn't There or Last Castle?). Gene Hackman must have gotten no-voted on his own merits; even though he competed with himself with Heartbreakers, Heist and Behind Enemy Lines, Tenenbaums was clearly the performance for which to laud him. Nicole Kidman made the situation more difficult with The Others, which features a better performance from her than Moulin Rouge, but a film's award-accumulating inertia is hard to overcome, and it's Kidman that most Moulin Rouge fans were responding to anyway.

Are there any laments for Jude Law not being nominated for A.I., or were the predictors just playing the odds? What about Steve Buscemi in Ghost World, another seeming shoo-in? I'll go ahead and say I'm a little sad Cameron Diaz's turn in Vanilla Sky was overlooked. I don't want to sound too gushing, but a quick glance over her career shows a penchant for glamour-bashing roles, and she excels in them — Being John Malkovich, Something About Mary, even A Life Less Ordinary and Charlie's Angels, which forced her to make a fool out of herself for being so sexual. Even Shrek turned her into an ogre. (And it's worth pointing out that she had the superlative vocal performance there, not Eddie Murphy.) In Vanilla Sky — an unsuccessful movie about which much could be said — she brought to life so many American male sexual hang-ups while giving her character a recognizable core, and she plays Cameron Crowe's camera to totally optimal effect throughout the film. My desire to revisit the film is based almost entirely on the intelligence of her performance.

We've mentioned the dichotomy of a director being nominated without his or her film, and vice versa. What conclusion can we draw about a movie like Iris (which none of us have seen) that garners three acting nominations and nothing else? One thing that pops to mind: Voters went to see it because they heard that a single performance in it was worth lauding and, in buy-one-get-one-free convenience, saw another performance good enough on its face to be nominated. It's like Ethan Hawke in Training Day; they went to evaluate Denzel Washington, but then by being able to vote for Hawke, too, it's one less open spot on the dance card and one less movie they have to obligate themselves to go see. Is this foolish conjecture on my part?

Andy Ross | Playing the numbers

I admit to just playing the odds with Jude Law. I did the same with Cameron Diaz, even though I thought she put in a great performance. Sean, you're right about her having great skill at crushing her own glamour. I think the thing that kept both of them from receiving nominations was that the movies were so distractingly bad. Yeah, I'm ready for the A.I. supporters to hit me with everything they've got, but face it, I'm on the winning team in disliking A.I..

You've hit the nail on the head with the Ethan Hawke two-for-one sale. He's just good enough of an actor in other movies that no one will question him getting nominated for an unworthy performance. Also, Training Day was just good enough that Academy members wouldn't be ashamed of nominating two of its stars.

Eric Wittmershaus | The monster who wasn't there

I didn't much care for A.I. either, but I thought Jude Law was solid throughout. I have yet to see a movie with him in it in which his wasn't the best performance. He even made Ethan Hawke look decent in Gattaca. But I really thought Osment might get a nod because when he first came out and did that whole walking-around-like- a-little-automaton thing, he had me for the rest of the movie.

I really thought Thornton had an outside shot at garnering nominations for both movies; no way did I think he would split the vote. Is it possible that he didn't garner enough votes for The Man Who Wasn't There because audiences thought it was too languid and boring? (Though it was certainly no less languid than The Straight Story a couple of years back.) And that he didn't get enough votes for Monster's Ball because too many assumed he'd get nominated for Man?

I've always thought that once you win an Oscar it puts you "on the radar" for future nominations. Was Thornton overlooked because his Oscar was for writing? Or is my theory just a bunch of hooey?

Andy Stilp | Act your ass off

Jude Law presents an interesting case. Is this backlash somewhat because he perhaps didn't deserve quite the accolade he was given for Ripley? There are some cases where Hollywood trips over itself to reward a young actor's great performance (Edward Norton, Primal Fear), but I'll bet there are some instances where the next golden god to run down the line is heralded (Kate Winslet, Titanic). This all being said, Guy Pearce needs to start picking projects that can earn him an honest mention in the acting categories.

The point about Denzel and Ethan — my Lord! Ethan Hawke is an Academy Award-nominated actor! — brings another issue that we need to confront. It's basically guilt by association, but such a sweet guilt. I agree with the notion Sean made that reviewers went two for one, rather than plod out and take in a one-nomination-max-potential piece (remember The Wings of the Dove? Don't doubt that I tromped across town just to ensure maximum coverage). This being said, though, there are no doubt a few questions.

• Why didn't Naomi Watts get nominated when everyone went to see Mulholland Drive because it was the latest eccentric movie worthy of accolade?
• Why didn't Paul Bettany get nominated when everyone went to see A Beautiful Mind for the obvious Oscar beast that it is?
• Why didn't Tony Shalhoub or Viggo Mortensen or …

This can go on and on. There's a theory for each side, I guess, but I think in the end, we're grasping at sand wondering what Naomi Watts will do next that could possibly bring her to the level she just barely missed.

Sean Weitner | Noboby likes Spielberg

Any backlash against Law isn't his fault, I don't think. As Armond White of the New York Press said: "Critics embraced Schindler's List because of its subject. They embraced Saving Private Ryan because of its subject. They did not, by and large, embrace any other Spielberg film. He is like the great Satan to critics." I think the Academy is largely the same way, and with that predisposition, A.I. never stood a chance. (It's the film I liked the most that I didn't predict a single important award for; I was the sole "dissenter" on Jude Law for Best Supporting Actor.) But the idea that the Academy punishes or rewards people for roles other than the ones they could be nominated for in a given year is very accurate, I think.

As far as the sad case of Thornton is concerned, it's hard to say. I don't think his Oscar helped or hurt him, really; I think his two Oscar nominations for acting (Sling Blade and A Simple Plan) put him sufficiently on everyone's radar. I would presume that the majority of the votes he did get were for Monster's Ball, not The Man Who Wasn't There. The Coens will ever only get an actor nominated for a comic performance, and the comedy in The Man Who Wasn't There is just too sublime. Eric, you bring up the example of The Straight Story as a defense for the elegiac pace of The Man Who Wasn't There, presumably thinking of Richard Farnsworth's nomination; that would be a clear example of offering a career-best Oscar instead of one grounded in a role's merits. Not that Farnsworth wasn't majestic in The Straight Story, but I doubt the Academy had sufficient interest in the film to judge the performance itself to be particularly meritorious.