I know Sean Penn rubs a lot of people the wrong way. It's probably the only thing we have in common (except for that Madonna thing that I'll tell you about sometime). But the haters are just going to have to keep on hating because Penn is walking off with the best actor Oscar at Sunday's gala.

Or maybe that's "gay-la," since Penn played the slain gay rights activist and politician Harvey Milk.

It's a remarkable transformation, from a surly guy with a chip (or maybe a 2x4) on his shoulder to a gentle soul with the same kind of righteous intensity. Some actors are praised for "growing into a role" but Penn actually shrinks into his. His voice and mannerisms constantly detect the point at which they could become parodies of homosexuality, always stopping just short of stereotype.

Sure, Penn won this Oscar before, for Mystic River, and that's viewed by some observers as hurtful to his chances Sunday night - maybe the academy doesn't want to place him in the esteemed company of dual winners. But when you think back to the macho rage and shame that Penn portrayed in Mystic River, and compare it to Milk, you see a range that few actors possess.

I loved Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler, and wouldn't mind at all if I missed this pick. But I'm guessing that the academy worries that he'll be flashback-in-the-pan, poised to resume his eccentric ways and roles at any time. He's the comeback of the year but not far enough.

Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) doesn't belong in this crowd, his performance is so introverted, merely reflecting the awe that other characters express at his supernatural condition. Richard Jenkins (The Visitor) and Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon) are old pros for whom the phrase "it's an honor to be nominated" will have to do.

Sunday night, they'll all be crying over spilled Milk.

Coming tomorrow: best actress.