Joss Whedon

Okay. I’m gonna say it. I’m gonna skip a hundred catty comments and say I’ve enjoyed the Saturns because, well, mostly because I won one, but also because they celebrate the genre, and where else are you gonna hang out with Jim Cameron AND Stan Lee? And now I’m gonna tell you I’m disappointed.

Say it with me now: Nathan Fillion.

Not even a nod? A nom? I’m pleased as anything for Summer, and glad the movie made a showing at all, but for Nathan to be overlooked shakes my faith in this awards program, which is truly terrifying because it means I had faith in an awards program. I’m such a yob.

Nathan owned that screen. You went to see the movie, there was a little print on the screen that said "On Loan from Nathan Fillion." Textured, rich, funny, real, heroic... I don’t know who else was nominated (and for the record, I think Tom Cruise was great in WotW), and I don’t even think the movie is all that — oh, I’m into it, but the more I look at it the more I go "They couldn’t have got a director?" — but Nathan is the man. He’s all man. A man’s man. Two men. He’s like if Jame Gumb had been sewing a MAN suit. This has taken an unsightly turn, but you get where I’m going.

Well, I don’t usually do this, but I’ll tell you a secret. I’m dropping the BOMB on the Saturn awards and you got this straight from the horse’s mouth. The truth about the Saturns? A few weeks after you get them home, the glue on your name-plate dries up and it pops right off. You heard me. Award over HERE, nameplate sitting over THERE. That’s how THEY roll, dog.

Wow. I went a little far there. Things were typed... But I’m truly bummed.

Go Summer!