The 2013 Oscars: full list of winners and nominees

A great night for Argo, Daniel Day-Lewis, Anne Hathaway, Jennifer Lawrence and Ang Lee.

Best Picture

Beast of the Southern Wild
Zero Dark Thirty
Amour
Argo
Life of Pi
Les Miserables
Lincoln
Silver Linings Playbook
Django Unchained

Best Actor 

Bradley Cooper - Silver Linings Playbook
Daniel Day-Lewis - Lincoln
Hugh Jackman - Les Misérables
Joaquin Phoenix - The Master
Denzel Washington - Flight

Best Actress

Jessica Chastain - Zero Dark Thirty
Jennifer Lawrence - Silver Linings Playbook
Emmanuelle Riva - Amour
Quvenzhané Wallis - Beasts of the Southern Wild
Naomi Watts - The Impossible

Best Supporting Actor

Philip Seymour Hoffman - The Master
Robert DeNiro - Silver Linings Playbook
Alan Arkin - Argo
Tommy Lee Jones - Lincoln
Christoph Waltz - Django Unchained

Best Supporting Actress

Sally Field - Lincoln
Anne Hathaway - Les Miserables
Jacki Weaver - Silver Linings Playbook
Helen Hunt - The Sessions
Amy Adams - The Master

Best Director

Life of Pi - Ang Lee
Amour - Michael Haneke
Lincoln - Steven Spielberg
Silver Linings Playbook - David O Russell
Beasts of the Southern Wild - Behn Zeitlin

Best Original Screenplay

John Gatins - Flight
Mark Boal - Zero Dark Thirty
Django Unchained - Quentin Tarantino
Moonrise Kingdom - Written by Wes Anderson & Roman Coppola
Amour - Written by Michael Haneke

Best Adapted Screenplay

Lucy Alibar and Benh Zeitlin - Beasts of the Southern Wild
Chris Terrio - Argo
Tony Kushner - Lincoln
David O'Russell - Silver Linings PLaybook
David Magee - Life of Pi

Best Original Score

Before My Time - Chasing Ice, Music and Lyric by J. Ralph
Pi's Lullaby - Life of Pi, Music by Mychael Danna; Lyric by Bombay Jayashri
Suddenly - Les Miserable, Music by Claude-Michel Schönberg; Lyric by Herbert Kretzmer and Alain Boublils
Everybody Needs a Best Friend - Ted, Music by Walter Murphy; Lyric by Seth MacFarlane
Skyfall - from Skyfall - Music and Lyric by Adele Adkins and Paul Epworth

Best Foreign Language Film

Amour
NO
War Witch
A Royal Affair
Kon Tiki

Best Documentary Feature

5 Broken Cameras
The Gatekeepers
How to Survive a Plague
The Invisible War
Searching for Sugar Man

Best Documentary Short Feature 

Inocente - Sean Fine and Andrea Nix Fine
Kings Point - Sari Gilman and Jedd Wider
Mondays at Racine - Cynthia Wade and Robin Honan
Open Heart - Kief Davidson and Cori Shepherd Stern
Redemption - Jon Alpert and Matthew O'Neill

Best Short Film (Live Action)

Asad Bryan Buckley and Mino Jarjoura
Buzkashi Boys - Sam French and Ariel Nasr
Curfew - Shawn Christensen
Death of a Shadow (Dood van een Schaduw) - Tom Van Avermaet and Ellen De Waele
Henry - Yan England

Best Make-up and Hairstyling

Hitchcock - Howard Berger, Peter Montagna and Martin Samuel
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - Peter Swords King, Rick Findlater and Tami Lane
Les Misérables - Lisa Westcott and Julie Dartnells

Best Costume Design

Anna Karenina - Jacqueline Durran
Les Misérables - Paco Delgado
Lincoln - Joanna Johnston
Mirror Mirror - Eiko Ishioka
Snow White and the Huntsman - Colleen Atwood

Best Visual Effects

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - Joe Letteri, Eric Saindon, David Clayton and R. Christopher White
Life of Pi: Bill Westenhofer, Guillaume Rocheron, Erik-Jan De Boer and Donald R. Elliott
Marvel's The Avengers - Janek Sirrs, Jeff White, Guy Williams and Dan Sudick
Prometheus - Richard Stammers, Trevor Wood, Charley Henley and Martin Hill
Snow White and the Huntsman - Cedric Nicolas-Troyan, Philip Brennan, Neil Corbould and Michael Dawson

Best Cinematography

Django Unchained - Robert Richardson
Anna Karenina - Seamus McGarvey
Lincoln - Janusz Kaminski
Life of Pi - Claudio Miranda
Skyfall - Roger Deakins

Best Animated Feature Film

Frankenweenie
The Pirates! Band of Misfits
Wreck it Ralph
ParaNorman
Brave

Best Short Film (Animated)

Adam and Dog - Minkyu Lee
Fresh Guacamole - PES
Head over Heels - Timothy Reckart and Fodhla Cronin O'Reilly
Maggie Simpson in "The Longest Daycare" David Silverman
Paperman - John Kahrs

An Oscars statue at the 85th Annual Academy Awards. Photograph: Getty Images
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The End We Start From imagines London underwater

Megan Hunter's fictional apocalypse is a tender one. 

It is six months after the flood. The nameless narrator of The End We Start From is a new mother and a refugee, and by the midpoint of the novel we have followed her and her baby from the “Gulp Zone”, where their London flat was swallowed, to a safe house that proved to be not safe enough, and then refugee camps, every move stripping life a little closer to the essentials. First what can be fitted in a car as you flee to safety, then what can be carried in your arms; first porridge, then only gruel.

Halfway through, the narrator and her baby make it to an island under the guidance of another new mother she befriended in the camps. Here, a family has established a small life of plenty. The narrator has left behind a “place of not-enough”, but here there is food to spare. Seeds grow into vegetables. The baby “likes to eat butter in chunks”. But where has the butter come from? There’s no mention of cattle on the island, no bucolic descriptions of churning. We’re told there is no electricity. So how do they have butter and why is it not rancid?

It’s a small thing, but an outsize irritant in a book whose prose is pared back to match the minimal existence it describes. Every detail feels weighted with significance because it was chosen over something else. Megan Hunter is a poet (this is her first novel), and her poetic instincts are underlined by the TS Eliot-referencing title, borrowed from Four Quartets: “What we call the beginning is often the end / And to make an end is to make a beginning. / The end is where we start from.”

Apocalypse and rebirth are central to Hunter’s story. Butter aside, it invokes a thoroughly plausible end of the world. Like Emily St John Mandel’s luminous Station Eleven, or Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam trilogy, you read it with the conviction that this is what it would be like. (These stories are told from the perspective of the resourceful fortunates who make it through. Apocalypse literature kindly dodges the reality that, if it came to it, most of us would die whimpering in a dirt hole.)

But realism is not the only dictate here. The End We Start From is also deeply invested with symbolism. It begins with the narrator going into labour: “Finally I am waterless, the pool of myself spreading slowly past my toes.” Maternity is a kind of apocalypse, an end to being one kind of self who lives one kind of life, and the beginning of another. Names, like everything else here, are cut back to the barest essentials, becoming just initials. The narrator’s husband is R, her in-laws are N and G, and her baby Z – an alphabetical end who is at the beginning of his life. Anyone who has welcomed the catastrophe of a newborn into their lives is likely to feel sympathy for this parallelbetween infant and Armageddon.

There is a cost to the allegory, though, and it comes through in moments when Hunter sacrifices the merciless logic of calculating survival in favour of giving play to her metaphor. Milk is, as it would be for a new mother, a theme. The milk in the narrator’s breasts that keeps her baby alive becomes an analogue for all sustenance: “As for food, I have started to think of it all as milk,” she says. “I wonder how long we would survive, how quickly human milk runs out in famine.” Perhaps it’s inevitable, then, that the unexpected gift of security and nourishment the narrator and Z find on the island should be represented through dairy; but it also punctures a world you could otherwise believe in utterly.

Hunter’s apocalypse is a tender one. There is violence and disorder at the start: one of the most affecting uses of Hunter’s spare style is when the narrator’s mother-in-law fails to return from a brutal trip to gather provisions, and the narrator simply announces: “No G.” But while R chooses isolation and suspicion of others, leaving his wife and child to make his own way, the narrator chooses humanity. She tells us how she “falls in love”, deep and quick, with those with whom she forms alliances. To borrow again from Four Quartets, “The houses are all gone under the sea” – but The End We Start From promises the possibility of life afterwards. 

The End We Start From
Megan Hunter
Picador, 127pp, £9.99

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear