Though we’re just four months into it, there have already been some triumphant performances in 2016. Josh Brolin in Hail, Caesar!, Anya Taylor-Joy in The Witch, John Goodman in 10 Cloverfield Lane, and Glen Powell in Everybody Wants Some!! immediately come to mind—and though none of them are likely candidates to function as Oscar bait (due to the timing and nature of the roles), all are world-class and potential year-bests.
But whoa there, Tonto, wouldn’t want you to get ahead of yourself. The year is still young, and this is the post-digital new frontier of entertainment we’re living in, after all, where crowning achievements can be found in all sorts of strange, messed-up places. Just ask Johnny Depp, who was certainly vying for…something…in his recent turn as Donald Trump in the Funny or Die “special” The Art of the Deal. That…wasn’t so good, but A for effort, and A for the reminder that Depp is actually a pretty far-out dude, who used to dazzle in experimental Jim Jarmusch films, or take chances on small-name visionaries like Tim Burton.
Consider the book on avant garde Johnny Depp reopened. In Australia yesterday—or was it today what with the whole seventeen-hours-ahead thing?—Barnaby Joyce, the deputy prime minister of the country, shared a video on his Facebook page of Depp and his wife, Amber Heard (yeah, apparently they’ve been married for over a year—TIL), apologizing for bringing their two dogs (Pistol and Boo) into the island without proper documentation. Seemingly working under the threat of booting, the two were able to work the prison-able (and likely boot-able) offense down to a fine of 1,000 Australian dollars under the pretense that they really ham it up for the camera in a video apology. And my, my, did ’ol Barnaby get his money’s worth.
The forty-two second mea culpa masterwork is a stunning piece of meta-filmmaking—a devastating foray into the disturbing underbelly of immigration politics, where no one is safe from the next cane toad infestation, even be it somehow carried on the backs of two Yorkshire Terriers. Look at the eyes, look at the pain. Look at the split of anger and concern, directed mainly at themselves, but probably also at their assistants for not thinking of this ahead of time. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. This is the masterpiece performance of 2016.
(via The A.V. Club)
