The following comment came in last night on my post about the National Board of Review’s annual honors. It is anonymous, so don’t, like, bet the farm on it (although I don’t know why you’d be betting your farm on SpoutBlog comments anyway. Take your farm more seriously!), but I thought it was interesting:

I’m a member of the NBR (sort of, well, student, even though I’m not anymore… long story) and I’m consistently left in horror by the comments, questions and tastes of our unimaginative membership, most having been cloistered from the real world in there upper west side four bedroom apartments for millenia, rushing from Q&A’s to meet their 7pm reservations at Isabella’s to discuss just how uplifting The Great Debaters was. Anyone remember how Blood Diamond was the third best film of the year last year!? I promise you, the average membership is so old, feeble and generally unsavvy, that Ben Affleck is the only new director they can remember from the past 12 months.

I should also note that I wrote that post based on a partial list of the honors published by Variety. The Reeler has the full list, which includes the NBR’s Top Five Documentaries and Top Ten Indie Films (”indie”, in this case, seems to translate as “an excuse to lump A Mighty Heart in the same bucket as Once.”)