The Lighthouse ★★★★

The Academy: We are not very fond of weird, challenging films, especially horror, so it's most likely that we'll overlook your kooky performance in this bizarre little picture. Remember Toni Collette last year? You will probably end up like her.

Willem Dafoe: I seen it. Yer fond of me. Say it! Say it. Say it!

The Academy: You’re drunker than a Virginy fence.

Willem Dafoe: Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead. Hark! Hark, Triton. Hark! Bellow, bid our father, the sea king, rise from the depths, full foul in his fury, black waves teeming with salt-foam, to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs till ye turn blue and bloated with bilge, and brine, and can scream no more...

The Academy: Please Stop!

Willem Dafoe *breaks wind before he goes on with his monologue*: Only when, he, crowned in cockle shells, with slithering tentacled tail, and steaming beard, takes up his fell, be-finnèd arm, his coral-tined trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest, and plunges right through your gullet, bursting ye, a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now, a nothing for the Harpies, and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon, only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the dread emperor himself...

The Academy *whimpers*: I beg ye 

Willem Dafoe: Forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god, or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff, or part of your fake ass, even any scantling of your soul, is no more, but is now itself the sea. [pause]  I seen it. You’re fond of me. Say it! Say it! Say it!

The Academy *finally surrenders as Willem receives his well-deserved Oscar nod*: Alright. Have it your way. I like you enough.

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