Fish Tank (A-...had I seen this in time, it would have factored into my year end awards)
Biutiful (C+)
The Illusionist (A-)
A Prophet (B+)
Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (B+)
Restrepo (B+)
Another Year (A-)
I'm Still Here (C-)
For Colored Girls (B-)
True Grit (B)
Exit Through the Gift Shop (B)
Easy A (B-)
Toy Story 3 (B+)
Going the Distance (B-)
Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (B-)
The Fighter (A-)
Rabbit Hole (B+)
Black Swan (A-)
The King's Speech (B-)
Blue Valentine (A)
127 Hours (B)
Fair Game (B-)
Animal Kingdom (A-)
Enter the Void (B)
Catfish (B+)
The Social Network (A)
It's Kind of a Funny Story (D-)
Dogtooth (A-)
The Town (B)
Never Let Me Go (A-)
Machete (C+)
Prodigal Sons (A-)
Inception (B)
The Kids Are All Right (B+...upgrade upon further analysis)
I Am Love (B+)
Winter's Bone (A)
Iron Man 2 (C+)
Mother and Child (B)
The Greatest (D+)
Date Night (C+)
Showing posts with label 2010 in film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2010 in film. Show all posts
Friday, March 11, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Some Random Thoughts on the Academy Awards And My Final Thoughts on 2010 in Film...
Warning: Extremely stream of conscious
The Superficial:
Regarding the presentation itself, I'll keep this brief, as the hosts, the rhythm, the writing, etc. have all been discussed ad nauseum. I'll just say the following: I'm not so naive as to be clueless that a lot of decisions (if not all) are driven by money. Yes, it's true there is a sizable chunk of the Academy Awards viewing audience who don't watch or care about movies and are simply tuning in for the spectacle. These people are real. I've met several of them. I'm sure they are perfectly decent people. But (and here's where the pretension kicks in) they are not an audience that the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences should desire to please or even want anything to do with. The Oscars should take a cue from the Tony Awards, The Independent Spirit Awards and even your local industry specific trade show honoring the best in automotive and farm equipment. That is, actually make it about the people in the room you're honoring rather than desperately, transparently, unappealingly and unsuccessfully trying to cater to the lowest common denominator. That is all.
The Winners/Nominees:
An extremely scatter-shot year where the Academy seemed to spread the wealth. But I want to be effusive for a moment and talk about the acting winners. Reading various blogs and awards pundits, I understand there are varying opinions about the merits of Christian Bale, Colin Firth, Melissa Leo and Natalie Portman. For my money, this is the first year in a long time where each of the four acting categories were awarded to both good and iconic performances. I can easily see each of the four actors being remembered for their turns in their respective films. Let me elaborate. Even in years like 2008, which awarded four worthy performances, there were one or two that seem destined to become forgettable. Kate Winslet was fine in The Reader, but that will not be the performance she is remembered for in her career retrospective. If not for the fact that she won an Oscar for it, I bet The Reader might have joined Little Children as one of Winslet's roles people have a hard time remembering twenty-five years from now when sounding off each of her Oscar nominated performances. But Colin Firth's Bertie, Natalie Portman's Nina, Melissa Leo's Alice and Christian Bale's Dicky are all accomplished turns (to varying degrees) and memorable ones as well. What's more fantastic is that my vote would have only gone to one of these performers (Bale) if I actually had a ballot. It was gratifying to watch Natalie Portman, for instance--a limited actress who gave what was easily the weakest performance in her very strong category--win for a very accomplished, tricky turn, also her best to date.
Poor Tom Hooper. The guy is now saddled with winning a Best Director trophy on his first nomination and the backlash is brewing. It's analogous to Ron Howard beating Peter Jackson, Ridley Scott, David Lynch and Robert Altman in 2001, which I hope the Academy looks back upon with the appropriate level of embarrassment. Luckily, Tom Hooper doesn't seem nearly as self-important and fatuous as Ron Howard, but I do wonder what his incentive is to try at this point, since he's been so hastily rewarded for such a pedestrian effort. Fincher, Aronofsky and Russell each created singular pieces of work, without the slightest hint of ambivalence to their direction. The dubious distinction of least deserving among the directing nominees is pretty much a toss-up between Tom Hooper and the Coens. I firmly believe that had No Country for Old Men not won three years ago, we may be have been looking at a True Grit love fest this year. Nonetheless, Hooper unseated some seriously visionary filmmakers to get the win and the look on his face during his acceptance speech (or am I imagining things?) tells me that he seems at least partially aware that the nomination without the win probably would have been better in the long run for his career. Ask Sam Mendes about that one. As the dust settles on 2010, Hooper's win won't smell so fresh, even more so than The King Speech's Best Picture win. He will join the ranks of Carol Reed, John G. Avildsen and Richard Attenborough as anomalous best director winners, regarded with some measure of head-scratching, given that at least two or three of the also-rans in their respective years would have made more interesting and historically resonant alternatives. None of this is to say that I think the guy is a bad filmmaker. He may well surprise in the years to come. I hope I'm wrong. Your move, Hooper.
Back to Best Actress for a moment. I adore Michelle Williams. I'm so glad she exists and I really like what she's giving cinema in terms of prickly, complicated performances in interesting, striking films that are neither commercial nor critical slam dunks on paper. Here she sits with her second Oscar nomination in five years, Busy Phillips still loyally at her side (love that friendship) and wearing it with a mix of clear affection for the work, but mild befuddlement for its recognition. I suspect that had Brokeback Mountain not been her debut nomination, she may have won. Not to take anything away from Rachel Weisz, but 2005's crowning of her lead work in The Constant Gardener as the Best Supporting Actress performance of the year reads as a clear example of what lack of consensus can breed. I suspect the reasoning that year went something like this. "Michelle Williams was great, but...giving an Oscar to a "Dawson's Creek" alum? Let's let her prove herself a little more. Amy Adams in Junebug? Who the hell is Amy Adams? And furthermore, what the hell is Junebug? Catherine Keener? I like her. She's nominated for The 40-Year-Old Virgin, right? Capote? Nah...not enough theatrics. Frances McDormand in North Country? Um...no thanks. Didn't see that movie. Rachel Weisz...she kind of looks like Kate Winslet. She's British, so I'm sure she's good. Plus, I heard the movie's really serious and world conscious. Tic." And scene. Watching the trailer for Meek's Cutoff earlier today, I'm convinced that Michelle Williams will be nominated again in the near future, if not necessarily for that film. She seems committed to making the kinds of films that cinephiles love, even if they leave audiences and most critics cold. I also suspect that she may never win, which is totally fine. Looking at her filmography, it seems that Brokeback Mountain may be as close to Oscar's wheelhouse as she's willing to get. I applaud her choices and it's nothing short of miraculous that her work in Blue Valentine got cited.
What about Jennifer Lawrence, who I've heard referred to as the Carey Mulligan of this year. I hope Lawrence secretly takes umbrage that comparison, given how slight An Education is when propped up against Winter's Bone as a film swept into a ten wide Best Picture field by its central performance. Despite having had no chance to get up on stage and deliver a gushing speech, I still think Lawrence, in the few interviews I saw has made the season work better for her than Mulligan did a year ago. I'm not sure if either will ever see a nomination again (a little over half of first time acting nominees don't), but Lawrence is in a good position right now. She's the acting nominee whose next move I'm most awaiting with bated breath, X-Men: First Class notwithstanding (I'm sorry, that movie just looks silly and I am a huge X-Men fan).
I am less curious about Natalie Portman's next career-move. I say this not to slight her. As I've stated, her performance in Black Swan is handily her best work. It's preferable by a mile to most of the recent Best Actress winners going back as far as Charlize Theron (easily the best of the 2000s winners). That being said, Portman's Oscar-winning turn in Black Swan feels less like a great actress finally getting her due (Kate Winslet) than it does a limited actress with clear strengths and weaknesses finally finding a director and a vehicle that plays to her assets as a performer (Hilary Swank, the first time). This idea that Natalie Portman is overdue for a win and that her laurels for Black Swan are the culmination of a great career is an idea I've heard floated all season from casual and literate movie-watchers alike. Being comfortably familiar with her filmography and looking at what she has coming down the pipe, this is a narrative that I just do not understand, even while having no real qualms about her winning Best Actress for this particular performance. Over at The Film Experience, on a recent podcast, the idea of which Oscar nominated performers could play which of the other Oscar nominated roles was discussed (a fun hypothetical to consider). Natalie Portman's possible inability to play something as naturalistic and stripped down as Michelle Williams's part in Blue Valentine was discussed. I agree wholeheartedly and I'll further submit that Williams, also capable of petite, frail and shrinking, could quite possibly have given us a completely different, but no less captivating Nina Sayers. Nicole Kidman, fabulous in Rabbit Hole (and in general) is an actress who I could also see bringing something interesting to the role, had the project been made fifteen years ago. And though Jennifer Lawrence remains relatively untested, the way she avoided all of the scenery-chewing cliches that could have made her turn in Winter's Bone more showy, sure, but less interesting makes me think we're bound to see a career with real range. I'm not sure Natalie Portman could convincingly play any of the other four Best Actress performances. I'm less sure that she'll ever top her turn in Black Swan and almost certain that she's not necessarily interested in doing so. She seems very content at shrinking away, not just from public life, but from acting in general, so in that way (and many others) it's good she was rewarded for this performance.
I've heard enough griping about The Social Network's wins in both editing and original score that I feel it prudent to address both. First of all, I take issue with the notion that elaborate editing is an automatic catch-all for good editing. In the tech categories, it often seems that best equals most, as evidenced by Alice in Wonderland's baffling Oscar for Best Costume Design and, even more infuriatingly, Best Art Direction. Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall did a marvelous job on The Social Network, juggling three or four different timelines. Flashback and parallel narrative structure i.s really hard to pull off well and The Social Network weaves it all seamlessly and in a way that serves the narrative. 127 Hours, which is much flashier fare, could have done with less cuts (and less obvious cuts), especially in the cave. And hats off to the Academy for recognizing Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's superb work in the original score category. It's kind of flabbergasting the number of people I've heard gripe about this win who I've never heard comment one way or the other on the a film's score. Atmospheric, minimalist, instantly recognizable and sure to become iconic. At once, everything that an Oscar winning score should be and the type of score they overlook too often.
How I wish I had stuck to my instinct that Roger Deakins wouldn't win for his work in True Grit. Even I fell prey to the groupthink that surrounded the notion that the overdue lenser would finally land a statue, though my gut told me Wally Pfister would get it. If I had my ballot to make over again, I'd probably replace Deakins (who I cited) with Yorick Le Saux for I Am Love or the evocative, unfussy work of Michael McDonough in Winter's Bone, a film which I loved (and love more each time I rewatch), but ultimately won no gold medals in my year-end rewards. Deakins work in True Grit, while tailor made for awards consideration on paper, isn't terribly exciting and I'm fine with his loss here.
In my review of The King's Speech, I stated that both the effusive response of the audience at the theater and the demographic of said audience told me that it would definitely give The Social Network a run for its money. Actually, what I knew in my heart, but probably didn't want to admit at the time, was that it was definitely going to win Best Picture. Ultimately, I'm surprised by how much the outcome didn't really upset me. This is, after all, quite similar to 2005 when Brokeback Moutain lost to Crash in that Best Picture was actually within grasp for my favorite film of the year, but was then given to my least favorite of the nominees. Maybe it's because I saw The Social Network's loss coming and was able to steel myself, whereas Crash's victory over Brokeback Mountain was out of nowhere and still remains unprecedented. And now, five years later, I do think that in a twisted way, appreciate Crash's Best Picture win, if only because of what it revealed about the Academy and what it said about the climate at the time. The King's Speech winning Best Picture for 2010 does not indicate a backslide, but rather says a lot about the cinematic landscape in 2010. Regardless of my misgivings about Bertie and his wacky pals, it was simply too successful in its modest goals and too comfortably within the Oscar wheelhouse to lose. The idea that The Departed, No Country for Old Men and The Hurt Locker represented some changing of the guard at the Academy is a falsehood. It's always about what's going on in each given year. And lest we forget that in 2008, Slumdog Millionaire, a very traditional film with traditional narrative tropes (albeit wrapped in a flashy package) won Best Picture, smack dab in the middle of this supposed new trending towards darker, more forward-thinking and visionary Best Picture winners. If we want to get reductive and talk about The King's Speech equivalent in the years of The Departed, No Country for Old Men and The Hurt Locker, you'd probably be looking at The Queen, Atonement and An Education, all of which were pre-ordained, sight-unseen Oscar bait of various quality and none of which were beloved enough by audiences or the Academy to do as well as The King's Speech did. Will history look kindly on a Best Picture win for The King's Speech? I'm almost certain that it won't. But one can't know for sure. Take The Hurt Locker, which I cited as my favorite (at the time) of the 2009 Best Picture nominees. Even though I'm happy it won, if pressed, I have to admit that I seldom think about the The Hurt Locker a year after the fact. If I had a ballot to cast today, Inglourious Basterds would probably get my vote as the more robust and resonating piece of cinema. It's anyone's guess which 2010 films will rise and fall in terms of my own esteem. I can already tell you that Black Swan and The Fighter, two films I loved in my initial viewings and still admire greatly, have started to experience the dreaded fade. Ungodly numbers of subsequent viewings of The Social Network and Winter's Bone have only made me love those titles more. But for 2010, the Academy has spoken. The King's Speech will be remembered as the film they loved and that, as they say, is that.
Closing Thoughts
Another Oscar year has come and gone and really...what is there left to say? Well, if you've been following my blog, there's plenty. I've been more terse about the Oscar race than I have in the previous two years that I've been operating this blog. Full disclosure (and I'm violating my own policy of not getting delving into my personal life on this blog), my personal aesthetic has gone through a sort of renaissance these past few years. I'm seeing more movies and really discovering, not so much what my tastes are (which has actually changed very little), but I'm developing my own language and vocabulary to communicate those tastes more effectively. I'm so glad I embarked on the Big Pretentious Movie Summer last year. Even if I didn't finish the list, which I ultimately plan to do, it was such a leap forward in my appreciation of filmwatching for its own sake, completely divorced from awards and box office. I watched movies like Interiors, Naked, Midnight Cowboy, Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, Days of Heaven, Breakfast at Tiffany's, none of which I had seen before and now can't imagine what life was like before having seen them (all the while appreciating them on very different levels). And that being the case, I've learned that the Oscars really must be taken with a grain of salt. I'm not just talking about The King's Speech unseating my favorite film of the year, The Social Network in both Best Picture and Best Director, which I contended on this very blog was likely and very possible, respectively. It's a catch-all. Even when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences crowns one's favorite film or performance, they are still a just a group of people weighing in on things. Their opinion is not gospel. Never has been, never will be. And that's not a knock on them, because truth be told, no one's opinion is gospel. The Social Network remains, to me, the best film of 2010 as does Hunger the best film of 2009 and Rachel Getting Married of 2008. None of those films won Best Picture and two of the three weren't even nominated--a fact that diminishes none of the immense joy and cinematic discovery I've experienced on repeat viewings of each of these titles. And isn't that what movie watching is all about? As Nathaniel over at The Film Experience wisely states, "A great film is its own reward."
The Superficial:
Regarding the presentation itself, I'll keep this brief, as the hosts, the rhythm, the writing, etc. have all been discussed ad nauseum. I'll just say the following: I'm not so naive as to be clueless that a lot of decisions (if not all) are driven by money. Yes, it's true there is a sizable chunk of the Academy Awards viewing audience who don't watch or care about movies and are simply tuning in for the spectacle. These people are real. I've met several of them. I'm sure they are perfectly decent people. But (and here's where the pretension kicks in) they are not an audience that the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences should desire to please or even want anything to do with. The Oscars should take a cue from the Tony Awards, The Independent Spirit Awards and even your local industry specific trade show honoring the best in automotive and farm equipment. That is, actually make it about the people in the room you're honoring rather than desperately, transparently, unappealingly and unsuccessfully trying to cater to the lowest common denominator. That is all.
The Winners/Nominees:
An extremely scatter-shot year where the Academy seemed to spread the wealth. But I want to be effusive for a moment and talk about the acting winners. Reading various blogs and awards pundits, I understand there are varying opinions about the merits of Christian Bale, Colin Firth, Melissa Leo and Natalie Portman. For my money, this is the first year in a long time where each of the four acting categories were awarded to both good and iconic performances. I can easily see each of the four actors being remembered for their turns in their respective films. Let me elaborate. Even in years like 2008, which awarded four worthy performances, there were one or two that seem destined to become forgettable. Kate Winslet was fine in The Reader, but that will not be the performance she is remembered for in her career retrospective. If not for the fact that she won an Oscar for it, I bet The Reader might have joined Little Children as one of Winslet's roles people have a hard time remembering twenty-five years from now when sounding off each of her Oscar nominated performances. But Colin Firth's Bertie, Natalie Portman's Nina, Melissa Leo's Alice and Christian Bale's Dicky are all accomplished turns (to varying degrees) and memorable ones as well. What's more fantastic is that my vote would have only gone to one of these performers (Bale) if I actually had a ballot. It was gratifying to watch Natalie Portman, for instance--a limited actress who gave what was easily the weakest performance in her very strong category--win for a very accomplished, tricky turn, also her best to date.
Poor Tom Hooper. The guy is now saddled with winning a Best Director trophy on his first nomination and the backlash is brewing. It's analogous to Ron Howard beating Peter Jackson, Ridley Scott, David Lynch and Robert Altman in 2001, which I hope the Academy looks back upon with the appropriate level of embarrassment. Luckily, Tom Hooper doesn't seem nearly as self-important and fatuous as Ron Howard, but I do wonder what his incentive is to try at this point, since he's been so hastily rewarded for such a pedestrian effort. Fincher, Aronofsky and Russell each created singular pieces of work, without the slightest hint of ambivalence to their direction. The dubious distinction of least deserving among the directing nominees is pretty much a toss-up between Tom Hooper and the Coens. I firmly believe that had No Country for Old Men not won three years ago, we may be have been looking at a True Grit love fest this year. Nonetheless, Hooper unseated some seriously visionary filmmakers to get the win and the look on his face during his acceptance speech (or am I imagining things?) tells me that he seems at least partially aware that the nomination without the win probably would have been better in the long run for his career. Ask Sam Mendes about that one. As the dust settles on 2010, Hooper's win won't smell so fresh, even more so than The King Speech's Best Picture win. He will join the ranks of Carol Reed, John G. Avildsen and Richard Attenborough as anomalous best director winners, regarded with some measure of head-scratching, given that at least two or three of the also-rans in their respective years would have made more interesting and historically resonant alternatives. None of this is to say that I think the guy is a bad filmmaker. He may well surprise in the years to come. I hope I'm wrong. Your move, Hooper.
Back to Best Actress for a moment. I adore Michelle Williams. I'm so glad she exists and I really like what she's giving cinema in terms of prickly, complicated performances in interesting, striking films that are neither commercial nor critical slam dunks on paper. Here she sits with her second Oscar nomination in five years, Busy Phillips still loyally at her side (love that friendship) and wearing it with a mix of clear affection for the work, but mild befuddlement for its recognition. I suspect that had Brokeback Mountain not been her debut nomination, she may have won. Not to take anything away from Rachel Weisz, but 2005's crowning of her lead work in The Constant Gardener as the Best Supporting Actress performance of the year reads as a clear example of what lack of consensus can breed. I suspect the reasoning that year went something like this. "Michelle Williams was great, but...giving an Oscar to a "Dawson's Creek" alum? Let's let her prove herself a little more. Amy Adams in Junebug? Who the hell is Amy Adams? And furthermore, what the hell is Junebug? Catherine Keener? I like her. She's nominated for The 40-Year-Old Virgin, right? Capote? Nah...not enough theatrics. Frances McDormand in North Country? Um...no thanks. Didn't see that movie. Rachel Weisz...she kind of looks like Kate Winslet. She's British, so I'm sure she's good. Plus, I heard the movie's really serious and world conscious. Tic." And scene. Watching the trailer for Meek's Cutoff earlier today, I'm convinced that Michelle Williams will be nominated again in the near future, if not necessarily for that film. She seems committed to making the kinds of films that cinephiles love, even if they leave audiences and most critics cold. I also suspect that she may never win, which is totally fine. Looking at her filmography, it seems that Brokeback Mountain may be as close to Oscar's wheelhouse as she's willing to get. I applaud her choices and it's nothing short of miraculous that her work in Blue Valentine got cited.
What about Jennifer Lawrence, who I've heard referred to as the Carey Mulligan of this year. I hope Lawrence secretly takes umbrage that comparison, given how slight An Education is when propped up against Winter's Bone as a film swept into a ten wide Best Picture field by its central performance. Despite having had no chance to get up on stage and deliver a gushing speech, I still think Lawrence, in the few interviews I saw has made the season work better for her than Mulligan did a year ago. I'm not sure if either will ever see a nomination again (a little over half of first time acting nominees don't), but Lawrence is in a good position right now. She's the acting nominee whose next move I'm most awaiting with bated breath, X-Men: First Class notwithstanding (I'm sorry, that movie just looks silly and I am a huge X-Men fan).
I am less curious about Natalie Portman's next career-move. I say this not to slight her. As I've stated, her performance in Black Swan is handily her best work. It's preferable by a mile to most of the recent Best Actress winners going back as far as Charlize Theron (easily the best of the 2000s winners). That being said, Portman's Oscar-winning turn in Black Swan feels less like a great actress finally getting her due (Kate Winslet) than it does a limited actress with clear strengths and weaknesses finally finding a director and a vehicle that plays to her assets as a performer (Hilary Swank, the first time). This idea that Natalie Portman is overdue for a win and that her laurels for Black Swan are the culmination of a great career is an idea I've heard floated all season from casual and literate movie-watchers alike. Being comfortably familiar with her filmography and looking at what she has coming down the pipe, this is a narrative that I just do not understand, even while having no real qualms about her winning Best Actress for this particular performance. Over at The Film Experience, on a recent podcast, the idea of which Oscar nominated performers could play which of the other Oscar nominated roles was discussed (a fun hypothetical to consider). Natalie Portman's possible inability to play something as naturalistic and stripped down as Michelle Williams's part in Blue Valentine was discussed. I agree wholeheartedly and I'll further submit that Williams, also capable of petite, frail and shrinking, could quite possibly have given us a completely different, but no less captivating Nina Sayers. Nicole Kidman, fabulous in Rabbit Hole (and in general) is an actress who I could also see bringing something interesting to the role, had the project been made fifteen years ago. And though Jennifer Lawrence remains relatively untested, the way she avoided all of the scenery-chewing cliches that could have made her turn in Winter's Bone more showy, sure, but less interesting makes me think we're bound to see a career with real range. I'm not sure Natalie Portman could convincingly play any of the other four Best Actress performances. I'm less sure that she'll ever top her turn in Black Swan and almost certain that she's not necessarily interested in doing so. She seems very content at shrinking away, not just from public life, but from acting in general, so in that way (and many others) it's good she was rewarded for this performance.
I've heard enough griping about The Social Network's wins in both editing and original score that I feel it prudent to address both. First of all, I take issue with the notion that elaborate editing is an automatic catch-all for good editing. In the tech categories, it often seems that best equals most, as evidenced by Alice in Wonderland's baffling Oscar for Best Costume Design and, even more infuriatingly, Best Art Direction. Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall did a marvelous job on The Social Network, juggling three or four different timelines. Flashback and parallel narrative structure i.s really hard to pull off well and The Social Network weaves it all seamlessly and in a way that serves the narrative. 127 Hours, which is much flashier fare, could have done with less cuts (and less obvious cuts), especially in the cave. And hats off to the Academy for recognizing Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's superb work in the original score category. It's kind of flabbergasting the number of people I've heard gripe about this win who I've never heard comment one way or the other on the a film's score. Atmospheric, minimalist, instantly recognizable and sure to become iconic. At once, everything that an Oscar winning score should be and the type of score they overlook too often.
How I wish I had stuck to my instinct that Roger Deakins wouldn't win for his work in True Grit. Even I fell prey to the groupthink that surrounded the notion that the overdue lenser would finally land a statue, though my gut told me Wally Pfister would get it. If I had my ballot to make over again, I'd probably replace Deakins (who I cited) with Yorick Le Saux for I Am Love or the evocative, unfussy work of Michael McDonough in Winter's Bone, a film which I loved (and love more each time I rewatch), but ultimately won no gold medals in my year-end rewards. Deakins work in True Grit, while tailor made for awards consideration on paper, isn't terribly exciting and I'm fine with his loss here.
In my review of The King's Speech, I stated that both the effusive response of the audience at the theater and the demographic of said audience told me that it would definitely give The Social Network a run for its money. Actually, what I knew in my heart, but probably didn't want to admit at the time, was that it was definitely going to win Best Picture. Ultimately, I'm surprised by how much the outcome didn't really upset me. This is, after all, quite similar to 2005 when Brokeback Moutain lost to Crash in that Best Picture was actually within grasp for my favorite film of the year, but was then given to my least favorite of the nominees. Maybe it's because I saw The Social Network's loss coming and was able to steel myself, whereas Crash's victory over Brokeback Mountain was out of nowhere and still remains unprecedented. And now, five years later, I do think that in a twisted way, appreciate Crash's Best Picture win, if only because of what it revealed about the Academy and what it said about the climate at the time. The King's Speech winning Best Picture for 2010 does not indicate a backslide, but rather says a lot about the cinematic landscape in 2010. Regardless of my misgivings about Bertie and his wacky pals, it was simply too successful in its modest goals and too comfortably within the Oscar wheelhouse to lose. The idea that The Departed, No Country for Old Men and The Hurt Locker represented some changing of the guard at the Academy is a falsehood. It's always about what's going on in each given year. And lest we forget that in 2008, Slumdog Millionaire, a very traditional film with traditional narrative tropes (albeit wrapped in a flashy package) won Best Picture, smack dab in the middle of this supposed new trending towards darker, more forward-thinking and visionary Best Picture winners. If we want to get reductive and talk about The King's Speech equivalent in the years of The Departed, No Country for Old Men and The Hurt Locker, you'd probably be looking at The Queen, Atonement and An Education, all of which were pre-ordained, sight-unseen Oscar bait of various quality and none of which were beloved enough by audiences or the Academy to do as well as The King's Speech did. Will history look kindly on a Best Picture win for The King's Speech? I'm almost certain that it won't. But one can't know for sure. Take The Hurt Locker, which I cited as my favorite (at the time) of the 2009 Best Picture nominees. Even though I'm happy it won, if pressed, I have to admit that I seldom think about the The Hurt Locker a year after the fact. If I had a ballot to cast today, Inglourious Basterds would probably get my vote as the more robust and resonating piece of cinema. It's anyone's guess which 2010 films will rise and fall in terms of my own esteem. I can already tell you that Black Swan and The Fighter, two films I loved in my initial viewings and still admire greatly, have started to experience the dreaded fade. Ungodly numbers of subsequent viewings of The Social Network and Winter's Bone have only made me love those titles more. But for 2010, the Academy has spoken. The King's Speech will be remembered as the film they loved and that, as they say, is that.
Closing Thoughts
Another Oscar year has come and gone and really...what is there left to say? Well, if you've been following my blog, there's plenty. I've been more terse about the Oscar race than I have in the previous two years that I've been operating this blog. Full disclosure (and I'm violating my own policy of not getting delving into my personal life on this blog), my personal aesthetic has gone through a sort of renaissance these past few years. I'm seeing more movies and really discovering, not so much what my tastes are (which has actually changed very little), but I'm developing my own language and vocabulary to communicate those tastes more effectively. I'm so glad I embarked on the Big Pretentious Movie Summer last year. Even if I didn't finish the list, which I ultimately plan to do, it was such a leap forward in my appreciation of filmwatching for its own sake, completely divorced from awards and box office. I watched movies like Interiors, Naked, Midnight Cowboy, Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, Days of Heaven, Breakfast at Tiffany's, none of which I had seen before and now can't imagine what life was like before having seen them (all the while appreciating them on very different levels). And that being the case, I've learned that the Oscars really must be taken with a grain of salt. I'm not just talking about The King's Speech unseating my favorite film of the year, The Social Network in both Best Picture and Best Director, which I contended on this very blog was likely and very possible, respectively. It's a catch-all. Even when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences crowns one's favorite film or performance, they are still a just a group of people weighing in on things. Their opinion is not gospel. Never has been, never will be. And that's not a knock on them, because truth be told, no one's opinion is gospel. The Social Network remains, to me, the best film of 2010 as does Hunger the best film of 2009 and Rachel Getting Married of 2008. None of those films won Best Picture and two of the three weren't even nominated--a fact that diminishes none of the immense joy and cinematic discovery I've experienced on repeat viewings of each of these titles. And isn't that what movie watching is all about? As Nathaniel over at The Film Experience wisely states, "A great film is its own reward."
Monday, January 24, 2011
2010 in Film (more reviews)
True Grit (dirs. Ethan Coen and Joel Coen)
While the western is admittedly not my genre of choice, there are westerns I enjoy. I like Shane much more than I'm willing to admit. For my money, The Searchers is one of the best movies ever made (there, I said it). This is all to say that I didn't go into True Grit with a closed mind at all. The Coen Brothers are probably regarded as the great American filmmakers of their generation and justifiably so. But watching True Grit, I felt like I was trying to convince myself that I love the film rather than merely like it. The way it sticks its landing so beautifully and emotionally only served to exacerbate my need to convince myself that the film as a whole is a great one, which I'm sorry to report, this entrant goes in the lower tier of Coen Brothers work for me. I'm certainly not washing my hands of the movie altogether, as there is so much to admire here. Jeff Bridges does fine work as Cockburn, the aging gruff lawman hired by Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld, who is in every minute of the film except the last five, yet is maddeningly being campaigned as a "supporting actress."). Matt Damon's performance is the best in the film and packs a certain unexpected humor and warmth that varies the rather stolid tone. And what of Hailee Steinfeld? She may very well win that supporting actress Oscar. I thought she was fine. I've already stated my feelings about her bogus category classification and frankly I wouldn't put her in the top five of either actress category. While I think she was very good, there were definite moments (plural) in the film where you catch her acting. But overall, it's accomplished work for the young performer and should serve as a nice calling card piece to take her into the next phase of her career. It's expertly shot by Roger Deakins, who may finally have a shot at that cinematography Oscar which has criminally eluded him, despite years of great work. The crafting of this film is not its problem, but rather how often the narrative feels rather uninteresting. But as I've stated before, there's enough good here that it's an outright failure, and it's so stylistically fascinating that one could hardly call it arbitrary in the same manner as The King's Speech. So, with that being said...
Grade: B
For Colored Girls (dir. Tyler Perry)
I avoided watching this for some time. I studied Ntozake Shange's lyric poem in college and was loath to believe that a truly workable and coherent narrative film adaptation could ever be made. Certainly not by Perry, who I have always contended has his virtues as a filmmaker and should not be dismissed as he often is by mainstream press. But internal psychology and nuanced turmoil are both at the center of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf and neither of these things are Tyler Perry's strong suit. That all being said, I was pleasantly surprised by Tyler Perry's For Colored Girls. Does it work as a whole? Not quite. But it's definitely his most interesting work to date and shows that given the right material to match his aesthetic, Perry could very well be an artistic force to be reckoned with. The poems aren't woven organically into the script, but they are often beautiful and heartfelt. The performances are surprisingly solid for the most part (in any other year, in any other film, Kimberly Elise might have had a chance at a supporting actress nod). Thandie Newton is leagues below everyone else in the film, but I hardly blame Perry for that. She's an actress whose brand of thesping I just...don't get. It feels strange to compare the two films, and although Never Let Me Go is leagues better, in a way it's joined by For Colored Girls as two of the most misunderstood films of 2010 that critics may look back on and realize they judged harshly. Yes, I just said that.
Grade: B-
Another Year (dir. Mike Leigh)
There's a moment towards the end of Another Year when Mary (Lesley Manville) tearfully tells her friend and co-worker Gerri (Ruth Sheen), "As long as you're my friend, I'm all right." It's a sentiment that is at once incredibly sweet and incredibly sad, expressed with aching conviction. The film, which follows a year in the life of happily married (but not saccharine) Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri as they contend with family and friends. Mike Leigh's famous process of long rehearsal where the actors are able to find their characters has paid off once again. This is one of the year's best films and ranks up there with Leigh's best work. It was so rich with character detail and nuance, in true Leigh fashion. Lesley Manville's work here has been justifiably lauded. I love that Mary's alcoholism, while a problem for the character, is not the problem. While over at Gerri and Tom's house for dinner, Mary of course has too much wine, as is her way. But watch the way she steers every bit of conversation desperately back to herself--her failed marriage, her lack of a car, her need for a vacation. It's a rich performance that many respond to because I think we all have a Mary in our lives, unless of course we are her. That person whose desperation and need for your friendship makes it truly impossible for them to reciprocate and sort of good deeds in a constructive way. Manville understands Mary to the ground. When Gerri and Tom's thirty-year-old son Joe (Oliver Maltman), with whom Mary flirts shamelessly, brings his new girlfriend around, it's one of the best moments of screen acting you'll see this year. Manville manages to play Mary's hostility as simultaneously brimming, immature, embarrassing and (miraculously) quiet. She deserves to be nominated for an Oscar in whatever category she is placed (I can understand the argument for lead or supporting). Ruth Sheen and Jim Broadbent wonderfully play a couple who has settled into what they know are the late years of their marriage and their life. Are they madly, disgustingly, unrealistically in love? Not so. They simply know, respect, and love each other a great deal and they happen to enjoy each other's company. They are probably aware of how lucky they are, but they don't flaunt it and it does feel routine. They also are not perfect. Tom has a way of unconsciously goading and pressuring his son. While they love each other and get along quite well, one sense that there is mild hostility and frustration lurking underneath the surface, like in all father son relationships. This is due to the extraordinary ability these actors have to play off of each other. The don't just act, they react. It may seem like I'm speaking little of plot. Mike Leigh's films are not creatures of plot. This is, in many ways, his most observational film. And yet it never feels boring or stale. It's heartwarming, honest and refined. I literally didn't want it to end.
Grade: A-
While the western is admittedly not my genre of choice, there are westerns I enjoy. I like Shane much more than I'm willing to admit. For my money, The Searchers is one of the best movies ever made (there, I said it). This is all to say that I didn't go into True Grit with a closed mind at all. The Coen Brothers are probably regarded as the great American filmmakers of their generation and justifiably so. But watching True Grit, I felt like I was trying to convince myself that I love the film rather than merely like it. The way it sticks its landing so beautifully and emotionally only served to exacerbate my need to convince myself that the film as a whole is a great one, which I'm sorry to report, this entrant goes in the lower tier of Coen Brothers work for me. I'm certainly not washing my hands of the movie altogether, as there is so much to admire here. Jeff Bridges does fine work as Cockburn, the aging gruff lawman hired by Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld, who is in every minute of the film except the last five, yet is maddeningly being campaigned as a "supporting actress."). Matt Damon's performance is the best in the film and packs a certain unexpected humor and warmth that varies the rather stolid tone. And what of Hailee Steinfeld? She may very well win that supporting actress Oscar. I thought she was fine. I've already stated my feelings about her bogus category classification and frankly I wouldn't put her in the top five of either actress category. While I think she was very good, there were definite moments (plural) in the film where you catch her acting. But overall, it's accomplished work for the young performer and should serve as a nice calling card piece to take her into the next phase of her career. It's expertly shot by Roger Deakins, who may finally have a shot at that cinematography Oscar which has criminally eluded him, despite years of great work. The crafting of this film is not its problem, but rather how often the narrative feels rather uninteresting. But as I've stated before, there's enough good here that it's an outright failure, and it's so stylistically fascinating that one could hardly call it arbitrary in the same manner as The King's Speech. So, with that being said...
Grade: B
For Colored Girls (dir. Tyler Perry)
I avoided watching this for some time. I studied Ntozake Shange's lyric poem in college and was loath to believe that a truly workable and coherent narrative film adaptation could ever be made. Certainly not by Perry, who I have always contended has his virtues as a filmmaker and should not be dismissed as he often is by mainstream press. But internal psychology and nuanced turmoil are both at the center of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf and neither of these things are Tyler Perry's strong suit. That all being said, I was pleasantly surprised by Tyler Perry's For Colored Girls. Does it work as a whole? Not quite. But it's definitely his most interesting work to date and shows that given the right material to match his aesthetic, Perry could very well be an artistic force to be reckoned with. The poems aren't woven organically into the script, but they are often beautiful and heartfelt. The performances are surprisingly solid for the most part (in any other year, in any other film, Kimberly Elise might have had a chance at a supporting actress nod). Thandie Newton is leagues below everyone else in the film, but I hardly blame Perry for that. She's an actress whose brand of thesping I just...don't get. It feels strange to compare the two films, and although Never Let Me Go is leagues better, in a way it's joined by For Colored Girls as two of the most misunderstood films of 2010 that critics may look back on and realize they judged harshly. Yes, I just said that.
Grade: B-
Another Year (dir. Mike Leigh)
There's a moment towards the end of Another Year when Mary (Lesley Manville) tearfully tells her friend and co-worker Gerri (Ruth Sheen), "As long as you're my friend, I'm all right." It's a sentiment that is at once incredibly sweet and incredibly sad, expressed with aching conviction. The film, which follows a year in the life of happily married (but not saccharine) Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri as they contend with family and friends. Mike Leigh's famous process of long rehearsal where the actors are able to find their characters has paid off once again. This is one of the year's best films and ranks up there with Leigh's best work. It was so rich with character detail and nuance, in true Leigh fashion. Lesley Manville's work here has been justifiably lauded. I love that Mary's alcoholism, while a problem for the character, is not the problem. While over at Gerri and Tom's house for dinner, Mary of course has too much wine, as is her way. But watch the way she steers every bit of conversation desperately back to herself--her failed marriage, her lack of a car, her need for a vacation. It's a rich performance that many respond to because I think we all have a Mary in our lives, unless of course we are her. That person whose desperation and need for your friendship makes it truly impossible for them to reciprocate and sort of good deeds in a constructive way. Manville understands Mary to the ground. When Gerri and Tom's thirty-year-old son Joe (Oliver Maltman), with whom Mary flirts shamelessly, brings his new girlfriend around, it's one of the best moments of screen acting you'll see this year. Manville manages to play Mary's hostility as simultaneously brimming, immature, embarrassing and (miraculously) quiet. She deserves to be nominated for an Oscar in whatever category she is placed (I can understand the argument for lead or supporting). Ruth Sheen and Jim Broadbent wonderfully play a couple who has settled into what they know are the late years of their marriage and their life. Are they madly, disgustingly, unrealistically in love? Not so. They simply know, respect, and love each other a great deal and they happen to enjoy each other's company. They are probably aware of how lucky they are, but they don't flaunt it and it does feel routine. They also are not perfect. Tom has a way of unconsciously goading and pressuring his son. While they love each other and get along quite well, one sense that there is mild hostility and frustration lurking underneath the surface, like in all father son relationships. This is due to the extraordinary ability these actors have to play off of each other. The don't just act, they react. It may seem like I'm speaking little of plot. Mike Leigh's films are not creatures of plot. This is, in many ways, his most observational film. And yet it never feels boring or stale. It's heartwarming, honest and refined. I literally didn't want it to end.
Grade: A-
2010 in Film (still more reviews...)
Easy A (dir. Will Gluck)
Yes, it's often uneven and spotty, but wouldn't Easy A have made a better choice than any of the other films nominated for Best Comedy or Musical at the Golden Globes (save The Kids Are All Right)? I don't begrudge Jennifer Lawrence the many breakthrough awards she's won this year for Winter's Bone, but I would have loved to see some love for Emma Stone, whose starmaking performance in Easy A elevates what could have been forgettable fare (which if often is) into something worth watching by virtue of her own comedic talents. Extra points to Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci who play Olive's (Stone) parents in delightful supporting performances. Despite its lack of true greatness, in many ways Easy A is everything a mainstream high school comedy should be--funny, sweet, quotable and helmed by a performer who makes you unable to imagine anyone else doing it better.
Grade: B-
Toy Story 3 (dir. Lee Unkrich)
For sheer tearjerking and tugging at the emotional heartstrings, few films this year touched Toy Story 3. I enjoyed it immensely and, like many, was reduced to a mess of tears by last frame. But if pressed, I have to confess a certain lack of true passion and enthusiasm about it. When I first saw the film a couple of months ago, I was convinced it would be in my year end top ten. And yet, it's a just miss. Ironic, considering that Up was on my top ten list last year and I seldom think about that film now. I found myself wondering if this film truly stands on its own as a narrative, without taking into account the previous chapters. Or should it, even? It is, despite its exceptional crafting, still a sequel. It does feel remarkably contained for the third installment of a franchise. Pixar has, after all, had very few missteps over the years (though they have misstepped) and in a lot of ways, the Toy Story series is the best thing they've ever done. There's so much to love here. The one-two punch of the ending (and I hope it's an ending. No sequels, please) is deeply felt and resonates deeply with the generation who were indeed kids when the first Toy Story was released in 1995. Furthermore, there's a universality to Toy Story 3 that I related to as an adult who came late to the franchise. I remember, almost distinctly, the day I, as a child, went to play with my large collection of action figures after a couple months' absence and realized I had outgrown this phase. And, like I said, I blubbered like a baby when Andy drove off contemplatively into the computer animated horizon at the end. So, in summation, it's a solid homerun for Pixar, but not on my top ten list. Call me heartless if you wish.
Grade: B+
Going the Distance (dir. Nanette Burstein)
Like Easy A, what Going the Distance lacks in true cinematic greatness or memorability, it more than makes up for with the charm and likability of its actors. Let it be known that Drew Barrymore and Justin Long have charm in spades, but I'm partial (I kind of love both of them, unashamedly). The film charts two thirty-somethings who meet cute and fall in love in New York shortly before one of them (Barrymore) has to move to San Francisco. What ensues is a formulaic, slightly uneven, clearly working with limitations, but nevertheless, sweet and endearing romantic comedy. If Hollywood must make tired retreads (and it's clear at this point that they must, for whatever reason), they could certainly do a lot worse than this one.
Grade: B-
Yes, it's often uneven and spotty, but wouldn't Easy A have made a better choice than any of the other films nominated for Best Comedy or Musical at the Golden Globes (save The Kids Are All Right)? I don't begrudge Jennifer Lawrence the many breakthrough awards she's won this year for Winter's Bone, but I would have loved to see some love for Emma Stone, whose starmaking performance in Easy A elevates what could have been forgettable fare (which if often is) into something worth watching by virtue of her own comedic talents. Extra points to Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci who play Olive's (Stone) parents in delightful supporting performances. Despite its lack of true greatness, in many ways Easy A is everything a mainstream high school comedy should be--funny, sweet, quotable and helmed by a performer who makes you unable to imagine anyone else doing it better.
Grade: B-
Toy Story 3 (dir. Lee Unkrich)
For sheer tearjerking and tugging at the emotional heartstrings, few films this year touched Toy Story 3. I enjoyed it immensely and, like many, was reduced to a mess of tears by last frame. But if pressed, I have to confess a certain lack of true passion and enthusiasm about it. When I first saw the film a couple of months ago, I was convinced it would be in my year end top ten. And yet, it's a just miss. Ironic, considering that Up was on my top ten list last year and I seldom think about that film now. I found myself wondering if this film truly stands on its own as a narrative, without taking into account the previous chapters. Or should it, even? It is, despite its exceptional crafting, still a sequel. It does feel remarkably contained for the third installment of a franchise. Pixar has, after all, had very few missteps over the years (though they have misstepped) and in a lot of ways, the Toy Story series is the best thing they've ever done. There's so much to love here. The one-two punch of the ending (and I hope it's an ending. No sequels, please) is deeply felt and resonates deeply with the generation who were indeed kids when the first Toy Story was released in 1995. Furthermore, there's a universality to Toy Story 3 that I related to as an adult who came late to the franchise. I remember, almost distinctly, the day I, as a child, went to play with my large collection of action figures after a couple months' absence and realized I had outgrown this phase. And, like I said, I blubbered like a baby when Andy drove off contemplatively into the computer animated horizon at the end. So, in summation, it's a solid homerun for Pixar, but not on my top ten list. Call me heartless if you wish.
Grade: B+
Going the Distance (dir. Nanette Burstein)
Like Easy A, what Going the Distance lacks in true cinematic greatness or memorability, it more than makes up for with the charm and likability of its actors. Let it be known that Drew Barrymore and Justin Long have charm in spades, but I'm partial (I kind of love both of them, unashamedly). The film charts two thirty-somethings who meet cute and fall in love in New York shortly before one of them (Barrymore) has to move to San Francisco. What ensues is a formulaic, slightly uneven, clearly working with limitations, but nevertheless, sweet and endearing romantic comedy. If Hollywood must make tired retreads (and it's clear at this point that they must, for whatever reason), they could certainly do a lot worse than this one.
Grade: B-
2010 in Film: The Documentaries
2010 was a year where I saw an unusually high number of documentaries. Though I missed Inside Job and most of Waiting for Superman (it's a long story), I did see four documentaries that seemed to seep into the mainstream consciousness. Although no documentary film ultimately made my final year end top ten list, Prodigal Sons came very close and is much better than any of the four films I'm about to discuss in very abbreviated form.
Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (dirs. Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg)
An enjoyable and often funny time at the movies, but hardly deeply probing and wildly unfocused. Joan Rivers does make for a fascinating subject, but one can't help but feel that the glimpses into her life are shallow and rehearsed.
Grade: B-
Exit Through the Gift Shop (dir. Banksy)
Fascinating, but ultimately unspectacular, especially given the acclaim it has received. It's portrait of a certain type of artistic counter culture feels very self-congratulatory and judgmental from where I'm sitting, but I certainly got a kick out of it. My enthusiasm rests slightly below the hype.
Grade: B
I'm Still Here (dir. Casey Affleck)
Vile, desperate and attempting to offend, none of which are qualities that have ever precluded me from liking a film. However, this mockumentary glimpse into the staged downfall of actor turned "rapper" and then actor again Joaquin Phoenix manages to contain all the aforementioned qualities while still also being boring and uninteresting, to the point of near-unwatchability. Affleck and Phoenix made the worst choice at every turn in service of very bare, transparent and facile intentions.
Grade: C-
Restrepo (dirs Tim Heatherington and Sebastian Junger)
Hearkening back to the days of true, war-embedded journalism, Restrepo follows the tour of duty of the 2nd platoon stationed in the Korengal Valley, the most dangerous region of Afghanistan. It's harrowing, emotional and rather moving (I fought tears more than once watching it). Ultimately, what makes the film suffer is its omniscient point of view and lack of structure (which some have argued is the film's strength, so take my very contrary opinion with a grain of salt). I certainly understand why it's being acclaimed and, like Exit Through the Gift Shop, it's refreshing to see true outsiders achieving success in the closed circle that is notable documentary filmmaking. But again, if you're looking for moving, emotional, outsider documentary filmmaking, subject matter aside, why not take a look at Prodigal Sons, which is all of these things and impeccably structured to boot. Just a thought.
Grade: B+
Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (dirs. Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg)
An enjoyable and often funny time at the movies, but hardly deeply probing and wildly unfocused. Joan Rivers does make for a fascinating subject, but one can't help but feel that the glimpses into her life are shallow and rehearsed.
Grade: B-
Exit Through the Gift Shop (dir. Banksy)
Fascinating, but ultimately unspectacular, especially given the acclaim it has received. It's portrait of a certain type of artistic counter culture feels very self-congratulatory and judgmental from where I'm sitting, but I certainly got a kick out of it. My enthusiasm rests slightly below the hype.
Grade: B
I'm Still Here (dir. Casey Affleck)
Vile, desperate and attempting to offend, none of which are qualities that have ever precluded me from liking a film. However, this mockumentary glimpse into the staged downfall of actor turned "rapper" and then actor again Joaquin Phoenix manages to contain all the aforementioned qualities while still also being boring and uninteresting, to the point of near-unwatchability. Affleck and Phoenix made the worst choice at every turn in service of very bare, transparent and facile intentions.
Grade: C-
Restrepo (dirs Tim Heatherington and Sebastian Junger)
Hearkening back to the days of true, war-embedded journalism, Restrepo follows the tour of duty of the 2nd platoon stationed in the Korengal Valley, the most dangerous region of Afghanistan. It's harrowing, emotional and rather moving (I fought tears more than once watching it). Ultimately, what makes the film suffer is its omniscient point of view and lack of structure (which some have argued is the film's strength, so take my very contrary opinion with a grain of salt). I certainly understand why it's being acclaimed and, like Exit Through the Gift Shop, it's refreshing to see true outsiders achieving success in the closed circle that is notable documentary filmmaking. But again, if you're looking for moving, emotional, outsider documentary filmmaking, subject matter aside, why not take a look at Prodigal Sons, which is all of these things and impeccably structured to boot. Just a thought.
Grade: B+
2010 in film (yet again...)
Black Swan (dir. Darren Aronofsky)
This is a film that I loved, in spite of its flaws, which are legion. The film teeters dangerously on the line between high art and trash (and dips into the latter more than once). But I stopped to consider something. Were the world of New York ballet in this narrative to be replaced by the world of say...beauty pageants, the film would feel no less captivating, engrossing and thrilling. That is due to Darren Aronofsky. After three viewings, I'm quite certain now that Black Swan is not his best work, but it is definitely his showiest and most sure-handed. Natalie Portman gives her best performance to date as prima ballerina Nina Sayers who's as fragile and delicate as porcelain, making it almost certain that by last frame she will have cracked. Though I do find Natalie Portman rather spotty as an actress, in terms of consistency, this is still high praise. An aside: I don't quite follow this narrative that going into the Oscar race, Natalie Portman's inevitable(?) best actress win will be the culmination of a great career filled with landmark performances. But her turn here is one for the ages and should she win the Oscar, it'll be looked upon fondly and will be preferable by a wide margin to the past five or six best actress winners. And the fact that she's not even my favorite of the probable nominees tells me that this category is going to be the best its been in years (I've been a little worried, full disclosure). I was surprised by how controlled Black Swan was, both in terms of Portman's performance (which is actually more quiet, subdued and internal than one might expect) and the film itself, especially compared to Requiem for a Dream. Matthew Libatique deserves the Oscar for his cinematography, which deliciously captures the movement of the dancers in long, extended takes, rather than quick frenetic ones. I've never seen ballet shot this way in film and it serves the narrative beautifully. The other players do quite well also, despite this being essentially a one-woman show. Even though she's essentially playing a cartoon character, Barbara Hershey is magnificently creepy as Erica, Nina's overbearing mother and former ballerina in her own right. Many will remember Hershey for her scenes of stern, unsettling mothering ("Take off your shirt!"), but for my money, Erica is never scarier than when she's being kind and playful. "Look how pink. Pretty," Nina childishly coos when Erica sets a grapefruit and a poached egg (Requiem for a Dream shout out?) in front of her. Then, in what is for my money just about the creepiest moment of the film, they both drone "Pre-tty" and laugh at their inside joke like school girls. It's a small detail that tells you something's not quite right here. Winona Ryder plays fading ballerina Beth Macintyre in a delicious cameo that works best in small doses, which is what we're given for maximum potency. Vincent Cassell's smarmy Thomas Leroy, the ballet instructor gives off the perfectly needed air of that rare gentleman that is as gross as he is alluring, women aren't sure if they want to blow him or sue him for sexual harassment. Lastly, there's Mila Kunis as Lily, the rival ballerina who smokes cigarettes, eats cheeseburgers and moves imprecisely but sensually. This is not a deep turn, but it's an interesting one and Kunis proves a great foil for Portman. In many ways, it's the film's most interesting performance and while I wouldn't call it Oscar-worthy, I'm forced to defend it because of the flack she's getting for kicking up buzz. It's certainly more interesting than Helena Bonham Carter in The King's Speech, for instance. When Black Swan finally reaches its conclusion, there is minor ambiguity as well as an unexpected feeling of exhilaration. Love it or hate it, there's no denying that Aronofsky is one of the most important directors working in film today and this is, in many ways, a culminating achievement.
Grade: A-
Rabbit Hole (dir. John Cameron Mitchell)
Hardly mines new territory, but lively acted by nearly every member of the cast. Based on the Pulitzer prize winning play, director John Cameron Mitchell, who is usually showy, recedes and adapts superbly to the story about a couple's lingering grief in the months following the death of their young son. Nicole Kidman, one of the most fearless and misunderstood actresses working today, turns in yet another great performance. She plays Becca as alternately frosty, emotional, angry, dubious and yes, funny. I was surprised by the light touches of humanity and humor that pepper the narrative, serving not to distract from the central emotional conflict, but making the film considerably less heavy than one would expect. Aaron Eckhart, in a sadly overlooked performance, is better than he's ever been. There are moments here and there where you see certain scenes running away from him, particularly in a moment involving a video Becca has erased from Howie's (Eckart) iPhone. But Eckhart's performance is incredibly moving and lived-in. Dianne Wiest plays Nat, Becca's mother with soft familiarity that, like a mother's love, is not always helpful. She seems aplomb at playing women who can't help but say the absolute wrong thing sometimes. But when Nat is right, she's deeply profound and moving. Lastly, I'll talk of newcomer Miles Teller. He plays Jason, the seventeen-year-old driver whose car struck and killed Becca and Howie's son, with amazing subtlety and warmth. He sells the moments without overselling them. A scene where he quietly confesses to Becca that he may have been going too fast (one or two miles over the speed limit) is heartbreaking, but never maudlin thanks to the great interplay between Teller and Kidman. Rabbit Hole is not rewriting the book on cinema, but it's worth a watch and I'm glad to recommend it, since it seems to be having a hard time finding an audience.
Grade: B+
The Fighter (dir. David O. Russell)
In spite of the presence of Black Swan and The Social Networks (splendid films in their own right, certainly), one can't help but wonder if The Fighter is the true directorial achievement of the year. David O. Russell takes one of the oldest and most hackneyed cinematic genres ("The Boxing Movie") and imbues it with so much life, specificity and directorial flourish that's true to his style. The tale of boxer Mickey Ward (Mark Wahlberg) feels incredibly personal as the Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy and Eric Johnson's script wisely takes the focus off the sport and puts it onto the widely fascinating array of family members and other characters in Ward's life. A lot of ink has been given to supporting actor frontrunner Christian Bale, whose performance as Mickey's brother Dicky Ecklund is a site to behold. The weight loss (Christian Bale seriously needs to stop doing this to himself. I'm worried), the mouth ravaged by crack cocaine use and the other externalities are just part of what makes Bale so mesmerizing. In a way, it's a performance that works in tandem with Melissa Leo, who plays Alice, Mickey's mother. Mark Wahlberg fades into the background and is unusually understated, but Bale and Leo are adept at convincingly selling familial bond, with the unspoken baggage, the secrets and the shared history. Amy Adams is different than you've ever seen her as Mickey's girlfriend, Charlene, stretching beyond the sweet naivete she's already sold us on. It's a great showcase of her talents and I'm glad she didn't go the stereotypical route of playing villain to show that she's not all nice. One of the year's best cinematic moments is watching Charlene take on Mickey's brood of over-bearing, over-coiffed and under-toothed sisters, each one more horrifying than the last. The actors here all play like their role is fully fleshed out and realized. Every inch of this film, from its performers, its director, its wonderful script ("She's an MTV girl"), Hoyte van Hoytema's unshowy cinematography--they all seem to be working in perfect synergy with one another. I'm not sure if The Fighter is the best film of 2010, but it's certainly one of the most enjoyable.
Grade: A-
This is a film that I loved, in spite of its flaws, which are legion. The film teeters dangerously on the line between high art and trash (and dips into the latter more than once). But I stopped to consider something. Were the world of New York ballet in this narrative to be replaced by the world of say...beauty pageants, the film would feel no less captivating, engrossing and thrilling. That is due to Darren Aronofsky. After three viewings, I'm quite certain now that Black Swan is not his best work, but it is definitely his showiest and most sure-handed. Natalie Portman gives her best performance to date as prima ballerina Nina Sayers who's as fragile and delicate as porcelain, making it almost certain that by last frame she will have cracked. Though I do find Natalie Portman rather spotty as an actress, in terms of consistency, this is still high praise. An aside: I don't quite follow this narrative that going into the Oscar race, Natalie Portman's inevitable(?) best actress win will be the culmination of a great career filled with landmark performances. But her turn here is one for the ages and should she win the Oscar, it'll be looked upon fondly and will be preferable by a wide margin to the past five or six best actress winners. And the fact that she's not even my favorite of the probable nominees tells me that this category is going to be the best its been in years (I've been a little worried, full disclosure). I was surprised by how controlled Black Swan was, both in terms of Portman's performance (which is actually more quiet, subdued and internal than one might expect) and the film itself, especially compared to Requiem for a Dream. Matthew Libatique deserves the Oscar for his cinematography, which deliciously captures the movement of the dancers in long, extended takes, rather than quick frenetic ones. I've never seen ballet shot this way in film and it serves the narrative beautifully. The other players do quite well also, despite this being essentially a one-woman show. Even though she's essentially playing a cartoon character, Barbara Hershey is magnificently creepy as Erica, Nina's overbearing mother and former ballerina in her own right. Many will remember Hershey for her scenes of stern, unsettling mothering ("Take off your shirt!"), but for my money, Erica is never scarier than when she's being kind and playful. "Look how pink. Pretty," Nina childishly coos when Erica sets a grapefruit and a poached egg (Requiem for a Dream shout out?) in front of her. Then, in what is for my money just about the creepiest moment of the film, they both drone "Pre-tty" and laugh at their inside joke like school girls. It's a small detail that tells you something's not quite right here. Winona Ryder plays fading ballerina Beth Macintyre in a delicious cameo that works best in small doses, which is what we're given for maximum potency. Vincent Cassell's smarmy Thomas Leroy, the ballet instructor gives off the perfectly needed air of that rare gentleman that is as gross as he is alluring, women aren't sure if they want to blow him or sue him for sexual harassment. Lastly, there's Mila Kunis as Lily, the rival ballerina who smokes cigarettes, eats cheeseburgers and moves imprecisely but sensually. This is not a deep turn, but it's an interesting one and Kunis proves a great foil for Portman. In many ways, it's the film's most interesting performance and while I wouldn't call it Oscar-worthy, I'm forced to defend it because of the flack she's getting for kicking up buzz. It's certainly more interesting than Helena Bonham Carter in The King's Speech, for instance. When Black Swan finally reaches its conclusion, there is minor ambiguity as well as an unexpected feeling of exhilaration. Love it or hate it, there's no denying that Aronofsky is one of the most important directors working in film today and this is, in many ways, a culminating achievement.
Grade: A-
Rabbit Hole (dir. John Cameron Mitchell)
Hardly mines new territory, but lively acted by nearly every member of the cast. Based on the Pulitzer prize winning play, director John Cameron Mitchell, who is usually showy, recedes and adapts superbly to the story about a couple's lingering grief in the months following the death of their young son. Nicole Kidman, one of the most fearless and misunderstood actresses working today, turns in yet another great performance. She plays Becca as alternately frosty, emotional, angry, dubious and yes, funny. I was surprised by the light touches of humanity and humor that pepper the narrative, serving not to distract from the central emotional conflict, but making the film considerably less heavy than one would expect. Aaron Eckhart, in a sadly overlooked performance, is better than he's ever been. There are moments here and there where you see certain scenes running away from him, particularly in a moment involving a video Becca has erased from Howie's (Eckart) iPhone. But Eckhart's performance is incredibly moving and lived-in. Dianne Wiest plays Nat, Becca's mother with soft familiarity that, like a mother's love, is not always helpful. She seems aplomb at playing women who can't help but say the absolute wrong thing sometimes. But when Nat is right, she's deeply profound and moving. Lastly, I'll talk of newcomer Miles Teller. He plays Jason, the seventeen-year-old driver whose car struck and killed Becca and Howie's son, with amazing subtlety and warmth. He sells the moments without overselling them. A scene where he quietly confesses to Becca that he may have been going too fast (one or two miles over the speed limit) is heartbreaking, but never maudlin thanks to the great interplay between Teller and Kidman. Rabbit Hole is not rewriting the book on cinema, but it's worth a watch and I'm glad to recommend it, since it seems to be having a hard time finding an audience.
Grade: B+
The Fighter (dir. David O. Russell)
In spite of the presence of Black Swan and The Social Networks (splendid films in their own right, certainly), one can't help but wonder if The Fighter is the true directorial achievement of the year. David O. Russell takes one of the oldest and most hackneyed cinematic genres ("The Boxing Movie") and imbues it with so much life, specificity and directorial flourish that's true to his style. The tale of boxer Mickey Ward (Mark Wahlberg) feels incredibly personal as the Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy and Eric Johnson's script wisely takes the focus off the sport and puts it onto the widely fascinating array of family members and other characters in Ward's life. A lot of ink has been given to supporting actor frontrunner Christian Bale, whose performance as Mickey's brother Dicky Ecklund is a site to behold. The weight loss (Christian Bale seriously needs to stop doing this to himself. I'm worried), the mouth ravaged by crack cocaine use and the other externalities are just part of what makes Bale so mesmerizing. In a way, it's a performance that works in tandem with Melissa Leo, who plays Alice, Mickey's mother. Mark Wahlberg fades into the background and is unusually understated, but Bale and Leo are adept at convincingly selling familial bond, with the unspoken baggage, the secrets and the shared history. Amy Adams is different than you've ever seen her as Mickey's girlfriend, Charlene, stretching beyond the sweet naivete she's already sold us on. It's a great showcase of her talents and I'm glad she didn't go the stereotypical route of playing villain to show that she's not all nice. One of the year's best cinematic moments is watching Charlene take on Mickey's brood of over-bearing, over-coiffed and under-toothed sisters, each one more horrifying than the last. The actors here all play like their role is fully fleshed out and realized. Every inch of this film, from its performers, its director, its wonderful script ("She's an MTV girl"), Hoyte van Hoytema's unshowy cinematography--they all seem to be working in perfect synergy with one another. I'm not sure if The Fighter is the best film of 2010, but it's certainly one of the most enjoyable.
Grade: A-
Friday, January 21, 2011
2010 in Film (cont'd again)
127 Hours (dir. Danny Boyle)
I certainly enjoyed this film more than Boyle's previous effort, Slumdog Millionaire, which I liked with significant reservation. As awful as this is going to sound, Boyle's use of pop music, split-screen and exuberant visuals is completely apropos to Aron Ralston's story and serves to enrich it thematically, whereas the same devices in Slumdog Millionaire, while also visually exciting, hinted at a certain white male myopia and fundamental misunderstanding of "the other." Am I saying that Danny Boyle should only make films about white males? Hardly. Both films have their virtues and neither one is perfect. But the message here (and both are clear "message" movies) seems less diluted, more to the point and more earnest than Slumdog Millionaire. That is due, in large part to James Franco's lived-in and naturalistic performance, which is at the center of what is essentially a one-man show, give or take Amber Tamblyn. It is Franco's charisma and understanding of the character that sustains a narrative that takes place largely in a chasm where Ralston was forced to amputate his own arm. The film has receded slightly in my memory since its initial viewing, as I accurately expected it would, but it's a solid piece of work that I hope moviewatchers won't shy away from. Being called a pussy by James Franco and his grandmother may persuade some people.
Grade: B
Blue Valentine (dir. Derek Cianfrance)
I initially pegged my initial effusive reaction to this film on the two central performances, fully prepared to talk about how Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams are doing some industrial strength heavy lifting to elevate the film. But a second viewing gave me more insight into Derek Cianfrance's sure and steady hand, both as a writer and director. Even with splendid performances (and they are splendid), the same material and structural conceit of examining the birth and death of a marriage through interwoven flashbacks could have easily reeked of well-intentioned, unremarkable Mumblecore fare--the kind you see on tucked far away in the Netflix watch-instantly section. Flashback structure is tricky and requires a certain control over storytelling that few filmmakers can boast. In films that value plot and situation over character, it involves making sure the audience finds out things at exactly the right time, so the flashbacks don't become redundant and the present-day narrative doesn't feel like a rehashing. In character studies such as this one, it involves controlling emotional reaction, getting the most potency out of each moment. Hats off to writer-director Derek Cianfrance and editors Jim Helton and Ron Patane (this is one of the best edited films of the year) on all counts. Watching Cianfrance in interviews, it's clear to see why the film manages to be so distinguishable. With his speech pattern, mannerisms, his appearance right down to the receding hairline, one can't help but wonder if Cianfrance is Dean (Gosling). Is there a Cindy (Williams)? Almost certainly. The film is filled with so many moments of specific, honest and unexpected characterization. A scene from the earlier part of Dean and Cindy's courtship, where he offers his unique perspective on couple's having their own song feels cut and paste from real-life, it rings so true. Having Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams live together during the course of the film rewarded in spades. There is a sense of deep familiarity in the scenes that take place in the latter part of their relationship, proving that those who know us best can hurt us the most because they know where to cut. Ryan Gosling gives what might be his best performance to date. It's a difficult task as Dean doesn't change so much from when he first meets Cindy to when he's married to her for five years. What has changed is external (beyond his balding head and his growing paunch). He wants what he has always wanted--to be with Cindy. A present reality may not support that and Gosling is heartbreaking in his ability to portray a man whose world and his wife seem to be passing him by a little more each day. Williams's role is more prickly and she has the hard task of being the defacto villain in the death of their marriage. Her behavior throughout the film seems consistently selfish, due in large part to the way Cianfrance frames her in the story. But Williams's impresses largely, also eking out one her most impressive, deeply felt turns. Cindy says things which ought to be true, but which she doesn't believe, which is almost the flipside of Dean who says what he thinks and believes it, true or not. The implosion of the relationship is inevitable. Watch how Williams's Cindy tells Dean that he's not living up to his potential. It's another brutally honest moment that features some of William's best and quietest acting in the film. For she says it with a twinge of both guilt and realization. Guilt at expressing the sentiment and realization that if you are with someone who isn't living up to his potential, then you can't possibly be living up to yours. Blue Valentine succeeds so valiantly because nothing in the crafting, its lensing, its acting, even its use of music, feels arbitrary or generic. Seek it out, if you must. It's worth a long drive to a small theater, should it come to that.
Grade: A
The King's Speech (dir. Tom Hooper)
I go back and forth on this one. Is The King's Speech a bad film? Hardly. But it forces me to ask what's worse--a terrible film or a competently made one that's so bland, one can hardly recommend it? Director Tom Hooper recedes admirably into the background, allowing the actors to do the heavy lifting and never getting showy. That's a plus. There are few moments in this cinematic account of King George V(Colin Firth, your likely winner of the Best Actor Oscar come February) and his attempts to become an orator, despite his crippling stammer that makes one go "What? What were the filmmakers thinking?" And yet, in a story that's supposed to be all about personal triumph and overcoming adversity, I felt nothing. And I actually did go into this with expectations of something more than meets the eye, given the acclaim it was receiving. I'll explain further. In 2007, I was hesitant to watch Michael Clayton, not being wowed whatsoever by what I was seeing in the trailer. It looked like an easy miss and I was annoyed by the awards attention it was racking up even before I finally saw it (the combination of Clooney, Pollack, Wilkinson and the goddess herself, Tilda Swinton couldn't keep me away too long). I sat down on a quiet afternoon in a small Atlanta theater in December of '07 and was blown away by how the film seemingly recognized the limitations and expectations of its genre and compellingly subverted and sidestepped said expectations, almost at every turn. So, I figured maybe The King's Speech would surprise in a similar fashion, rising above and beyond the required seven "pieces of flair" necessary to make competent period awards bait. But alas, I was greeted with a film that I can only describe as well-made and certainly high-minded, but (it bears repeating) bland. The performances here are fine. Colin Firth's turn is technically accomplished enough to convincingly sell a stammer, though he hardly layers the personal history in ways that aren't painfully obvious. A fine performance, but not an excellent one. Geoffrey Rush is considerably more tolerable here than usual and his performance is what grounds the narrative, providing some desperately needed softness and humanity to sand the film's sharp, obvious edges. While I will concede that it's nice to see Helena Bonham Carter unencumbered by dark wigs, elaborate Gaga-esque frocks and pounds of cakey Gothic makeup, to call this performance great and awards worthy is more than a little generous. If this is a great Helena Bonham Carter performance, then what the hell was she doing in Fight Club, A Room with a View and Howards End? I made sure to include the last two films because I'm constantly hearing that Carter is being rewarded for finally doing something within the Academy's comfort zone (The Wings of the Dove, her sole nomination to date pending Tuesday's nomination announcement, notwithstanding). But A Room with a View and Howards End are utterly within the Academy's sweet spot and, despite loving both of those movies...nothing for Carter. Peculiar. And while we're on the topic of James Ivory, it's movies like The King's Speech that make me wish that Ivory was still working at the top of his form. When he did costume and period, it felt (mostly) purposeful, resonant and deeply engrossing, rather than (I'm sorry to say) besides the point. With all this being said, I fully buy into the narrative that The King's Speech could very well give The Social Network a run for its money in the best picture race. I saw the film at Arclight Hollywood on a Thursday morning while having my car serviced. The audience, besides myself, was composed of about two and a half dozen sexagenarians and one gay couple in their fifties (a pretty accurate Academy cross-section). They ate The King's Speech up with a spoon. So, there you have it. There's one of these every year, it would seem. A movie that's being called "great" that makes me wonder what it is I'm not seeing.
Grade: B- (I don't even feel passionately enough about it to grade it any lower)
I certainly enjoyed this film more than Boyle's previous effort, Slumdog Millionaire, which I liked with significant reservation. As awful as this is going to sound, Boyle's use of pop music, split-screen and exuberant visuals is completely apropos to Aron Ralston's story and serves to enrich it thematically, whereas the same devices in Slumdog Millionaire, while also visually exciting, hinted at a certain white male myopia and fundamental misunderstanding of "the other." Am I saying that Danny Boyle should only make films about white males? Hardly. Both films have their virtues and neither one is perfect. But the message here (and both are clear "message" movies) seems less diluted, more to the point and more earnest than Slumdog Millionaire. That is due, in large part to James Franco's lived-in and naturalistic performance, which is at the center of what is essentially a one-man show, give or take Amber Tamblyn. It is Franco's charisma and understanding of the character that sustains a narrative that takes place largely in a chasm where Ralston was forced to amputate his own arm. The film has receded slightly in my memory since its initial viewing, as I accurately expected it would, but it's a solid piece of work that I hope moviewatchers won't shy away from. Being called a pussy by James Franco and his grandmother may persuade some people.
Grade: B
Blue Valentine (dir. Derek Cianfrance)
I initially pegged my initial effusive reaction to this film on the two central performances, fully prepared to talk about how Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams are doing some industrial strength heavy lifting to elevate the film. But a second viewing gave me more insight into Derek Cianfrance's sure and steady hand, both as a writer and director. Even with splendid performances (and they are splendid), the same material and structural conceit of examining the birth and death of a marriage through interwoven flashbacks could have easily reeked of well-intentioned, unremarkable Mumblecore fare--the kind you see on tucked far away in the Netflix watch-instantly section. Flashback structure is tricky and requires a certain control over storytelling that few filmmakers can boast. In films that value plot and situation over character, it involves making sure the audience finds out things at exactly the right time, so the flashbacks don't become redundant and the present-day narrative doesn't feel like a rehashing. In character studies such as this one, it involves controlling emotional reaction, getting the most potency out of each moment. Hats off to writer-director Derek Cianfrance and editors Jim Helton and Ron Patane (this is one of the best edited films of the year) on all counts. Watching Cianfrance in interviews, it's clear to see why the film manages to be so distinguishable. With his speech pattern, mannerisms, his appearance right down to the receding hairline, one can't help but wonder if Cianfrance is Dean (Gosling). Is there a Cindy (Williams)? Almost certainly. The film is filled with so many moments of specific, honest and unexpected characterization. A scene from the earlier part of Dean and Cindy's courtship, where he offers his unique perspective on couple's having their own song feels cut and paste from real-life, it rings so true. Having Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams live together during the course of the film rewarded in spades. There is a sense of deep familiarity in the scenes that take place in the latter part of their relationship, proving that those who know us best can hurt us the most because they know where to cut. Ryan Gosling gives what might be his best performance to date. It's a difficult task as Dean doesn't change so much from when he first meets Cindy to when he's married to her for five years. What has changed is external (beyond his balding head and his growing paunch). He wants what he has always wanted--to be with Cindy. A present reality may not support that and Gosling is heartbreaking in his ability to portray a man whose world and his wife seem to be passing him by a little more each day. Williams's role is more prickly and she has the hard task of being the defacto villain in the death of their marriage. Her behavior throughout the film seems consistently selfish, due in large part to the way Cianfrance frames her in the story. But Williams's impresses largely, also eking out one her most impressive, deeply felt turns. Cindy says things which ought to be true, but which she doesn't believe, which is almost the flipside of Dean who says what he thinks and believes it, true or not. The implosion of the relationship is inevitable. Watch how Williams's Cindy tells Dean that he's not living up to his potential. It's another brutally honest moment that features some of William's best and quietest acting in the film. For she says it with a twinge of both guilt and realization. Guilt at expressing the sentiment and realization that if you are with someone who isn't living up to his potential, then you can't possibly be living up to yours. Blue Valentine succeeds so valiantly because nothing in the crafting, its lensing, its acting, even its use of music, feels arbitrary or generic. Seek it out, if you must. It's worth a long drive to a small theater, should it come to that.
Grade: A
The King's Speech (dir. Tom Hooper)
I go back and forth on this one. Is The King's Speech a bad film? Hardly. But it forces me to ask what's worse--a terrible film or a competently made one that's so bland, one can hardly recommend it? Director Tom Hooper recedes admirably into the background, allowing the actors to do the heavy lifting and never getting showy. That's a plus. There are few moments in this cinematic account of King George V(Colin Firth, your likely winner of the Best Actor Oscar come February) and his attempts to become an orator, despite his crippling stammer that makes one go "What? What were the filmmakers thinking?" And yet, in a story that's supposed to be all about personal triumph and overcoming adversity, I felt nothing. And I actually did go into this with expectations of something more than meets the eye, given the acclaim it was receiving. I'll explain further. In 2007, I was hesitant to watch Michael Clayton, not being wowed whatsoever by what I was seeing in the trailer. It looked like an easy miss and I was annoyed by the awards attention it was racking up even before I finally saw it (the combination of Clooney, Pollack, Wilkinson and the goddess herself, Tilda Swinton couldn't keep me away too long). I sat down on a quiet afternoon in a small Atlanta theater in December of '07 and was blown away by how the film seemingly recognized the limitations and expectations of its genre and compellingly subverted and sidestepped said expectations, almost at every turn. So, I figured maybe The King's Speech would surprise in a similar fashion, rising above and beyond the required seven "pieces of flair" necessary to make competent period awards bait. But alas, I was greeted with a film that I can only describe as well-made and certainly high-minded, but (it bears repeating) bland. The performances here are fine. Colin Firth's turn is technically accomplished enough to convincingly sell a stammer, though he hardly layers the personal history in ways that aren't painfully obvious. A fine performance, but not an excellent one. Geoffrey Rush is considerably more tolerable here than usual and his performance is what grounds the narrative, providing some desperately needed softness and humanity to sand the film's sharp, obvious edges. While I will concede that it's nice to see Helena Bonham Carter unencumbered by dark wigs, elaborate Gaga-esque frocks and pounds of cakey Gothic makeup, to call this performance great and awards worthy is more than a little generous. If this is a great Helena Bonham Carter performance, then what the hell was she doing in Fight Club, A Room with a View and Howards End? I made sure to include the last two films because I'm constantly hearing that Carter is being rewarded for finally doing something within the Academy's comfort zone (The Wings of the Dove, her sole nomination to date pending Tuesday's nomination announcement, notwithstanding). But A Room with a View and Howards End are utterly within the Academy's sweet spot and, despite loving both of those movies...nothing for Carter. Peculiar. And while we're on the topic of James Ivory, it's movies like The King's Speech that make me wish that Ivory was still working at the top of his form. When he did costume and period, it felt (mostly) purposeful, resonant and deeply engrossing, rather than (I'm sorry to say) besides the point. With all this being said, I fully buy into the narrative that The King's Speech could very well give The Social Network a run for its money in the best picture race. I saw the film at Arclight Hollywood on a Thursday morning while having my car serviced. The audience, besides myself, was composed of about two and a half dozen sexagenarians and one gay couple in their fifties (a pretty accurate Academy cross-section). They ate The King's Speech up with a spoon. So, there you have it. There's one of these every year, it would seem. A movie that's being called "great" that makes me wonder what it is I'm not seeing.
Grade: B- (I don't even feel passionately enough about it to grade it any lower)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
2010 in Film (cont'd)
Enter the Void (dir. Gaspar Noé)
Certainly an unforgettable cinematic excursion, right from its incredible opening credits sequence (one of the best I've ever seen). Noé follows up his masterpiece, Irréversible with yet another truly unique exercise, but the details of the film are less memorable than the experience of seeing the film. The narrative (if you can call it that) mostly charts the journey of Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), a man who is shot dead by police during a drug raid at a Tokyo bar called the Void. After his spirit rises from his body, the viewer is taken in first-person shooter mode, seeing what he sees, which include varied and at times very emotionally felt (if aurally and visually distorted) reactions to his tragic demise, particularly from his sister Linda (Paz de la Huerta). We are also given multiple flashbacks of the car crash that killed Oscar and Linda's parents and left them orphans. The film is visually stunning, to say the least and features some of the showiest editing and cinematography I've seen all year. At 154 minutes, it never feels boring, but it does begin to feel repetitive, particularly during its close, which feels like one extended orgy where the audience is a voyeur. Cinematic nudity has never felt so tangentially related to the film itself. The performances range from naturalistic and deeply felt (particularly the child actors who portray young Nathaniel and Linda) to histrionic and over the top. Paz de la Huerta alternates between the two and though there's much to admire about her work here, she never seems to strike the right notes. The film's purposefully muggy, drug haze-like sound mix often can't even serve to drown out the sounds of her chewing the scenery. Nevertheless, Enter the Void is one of the films of 2010 that's a can't miss, regardless of one's reaction. Given its love it or hate it nature, it may seem strange to give it a "B," but at any rate...
Grade: B
Animal Kindgom (dir. David Michôd)
This tautly structured, well-paced Australian crime drama is more than meets the eye and rewards repeat viewings. Writer-director Michôd has constructed a film that is rife with character specificity that sucks you into this family of clumsy yet conniving and often loving Melbourne criminals told through the eyes of Joshua "J" Cody (newcomer James Frecheville). The green and fresh-faced teenager enters the fold after his mother dies of a drug overdose and he is taken in by his grandmother, Janeane "Smurf" Cody played by Jacki Weaver in a much ballyhooed (justifiably so) performance. The details underneath Weaver's turn are small and subtle, but richly consistent in a slow-burn kind of ways. One often looks for the "big scene" when watching a film with a critically lauded performance that people seem unable to shut up about, but the turning point for Weaver is beautifully understated. It's not a film of big moments, in terms of character reaction, but in how disgustingly, how easily the characters (particularly Smurf) turn on their ear and commit despicable acts. The rest of the ensemble is very good as well, even James Frecheville, who has received some criticism for what may appear to be a blank, vacant turn. His face seems aplomb at betraying any emotion and I'll admit that upon first viewing, I found him unremarkable. Watching the film a second time, I'm almost certain it was Michôd's intention that Joshua intentionally try to be faceless in the midst of very lively, volatile family members who he doesn't instantly trust and who certainly give him no reason to qualm his fears. The film is far from perfect. Michôd's script makes the small mistake of saddling the narrative with Joshua's voice over, which could serve to enrich and add perspective (I'm by no means coming down against voice over across the board as a narrative device), but it doesn't exactly take us deeper into the story or the characters. This is a small quibble, however. Animal Kingdom's ability to build tension to a fevered pitch, particularly in the much talked about scene that involves a car backing out of a garage, is something to marvel at and I'm amazed this is Michôd's first feature.
Grade: A-
Fair Game (dir. Doug Lyman)
Doug Lyman, who (let's face it) is a rather hit-or-miss director doesn't exactly miss here. But, his cinematic account of CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson (Naomi Watts) and how she was maliciously outed by the White House is a mixed bag that leans slightly more on the positive. I found myself wondering several things while watching Fair Game. Firstly, how is this story going to play to the section of the audience who are unfamiliar with the basics of the Valerie Plame scandal? I knew the very basic details of what happened in 2003, but I still felt as though the film took much too long to get into the nuts and bolts of the story I think it was trying to tell. When you only have 108 minutes to work with, this leaves the film feeling top-heavy, and the conclusion feeling rush. Lyman also serves as cinematographer on Fair Game. This is possibly a mistake--the film is peppered with some very baffling, arbitrary camerawork, particularly during a CIA briefing with Plame, other operatives and White House officials. I imagine this was an attempt to take a straight-down-the-middle narrative and make it more visually interesting, but it serves as more of a distraction than anything else. The film alternates between scenes such as these and scenes of Plame's domestic life with husband Joseph Wilson (Sean Penn). Here, there are real nuggets of great acting. Joe Wilson is a staunch liberal who of course took umbrage to what was done to his wife. I'm almost certain that Penn, given his own passionate political leanings, has lionized Joe Wilson in his mind. Yet, his performance here is surprisingly realistic and restrained, lacking the over-the-top, soapbox theatrics some may have expected. Naomi Watts is fine as well, playing Plame as alternately self-empowered and backed into a corner. She manages not to overact (21 Grams anyone?) but the performance still doesn't touch her best work. The problem is that Valerie and Joe's familial strife, though brought upon by the bigger storyline of the leak scandal is never married seamlessly with said storyline. As a result, it feels like the two plotlines exist in a vacuum and not enough time is spent on either. There's enough to recommend here, but Fair Game, while high-minded and well-intentioned, is ultimately unremarkable.
Grade: B-
Certainly an unforgettable cinematic excursion, right from its incredible opening credits sequence (one of the best I've ever seen). Noé follows up his masterpiece, Irréversible with yet another truly unique exercise, but the details of the film are less memorable than the experience of seeing the film. The narrative (if you can call it that) mostly charts the journey of Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), a man who is shot dead by police during a drug raid at a Tokyo bar called the Void. After his spirit rises from his body, the viewer is taken in first-person shooter mode, seeing what he sees, which include varied and at times very emotionally felt (if aurally and visually distorted) reactions to his tragic demise, particularly from his sister Linda (Paz de la Huerta). We are also given multiple flashbacks of the car crash that killed Oscar and Linda's parents and left them orphans. The film is visually stunning, to say the least and features some of the showiest editing and cinematography I've seen all year. At 154 minutes, it never feels boring, but it does begin to feel repetitive, particularly during its close, which feels like one extended orgy where the audience is a voyeur. Cinematic nudity has never felt so tangentially related to the film itself. The performances range from naturalistic and deeply felt (particularly the child actors who portray young Nathaniel and Linda) to histrionic and over the top. Paz de la Huerta alternates between the two and though there's much to admire about her work here, she never seems to strike the right notes. The film's purposefully muggy, drug haze-like sound mix often can't even serve to drown out the sounds of her chewing the scenery. Nevertheless, Enter the Void is one of the films of 2010 that's a can't miss, regardless of one's reaction. Given its love it or hate it nature, it may seem strange to give it a "B," but at any rate...
Grade: B
Animal Kindgom (dir. David Michôd)
This tautly structured, well-paced Australian crime drama is more than meets the eye and rewards repeat viewings. Writer-director Michôd has constructed a film that is rife with character specificity that sucks you into this family of clumsy yet conniving and often loving Melbourne criminals told through the eyes of Joshua "J" Cody (newcomer James Frecheville). The green and fresh-faced teenager enters the fold after his mother dies of a drug overdose and he is taken in by his grandmother, Janeane "Smurf" Cody played by Jacki Weaver in a much ballyhooed (justifiably so) performance. The details underneath Weaver's turn are small and subtle, but richly consistent in a slow-burn kind of ways. One often looks for the "big scene" when watching a film with a critically lauded performance that people seem unable to shut up about, but the turning point for Weaver is beautifully understated. It's not a film of big moments, in terms of character reaction, but in how disgustingly, how easily the characters (particularly Smurf) turn on their ear and commit despicable acts. The rest of the ensemble is very good as well, even James Frecheville, who has received some criticism for what may appear to be a blank, vacant turn. His face seems aplomb at betraying any emotion and I'll admit that upon first viewing, I found him unremarkable. Watching the film a second time, I'm almost certain it was Michôd's intention that Joshua intentionally try to be faceless in the midst of very lively, volatile family members who he doesn't instantly trust and who certainly give him no reason to qualm his fears. The film is far from perfect. Michôd's script makes the small mistake of saddling the narrative with Joshua's voice over, which could serve to enrich and add perspective (I'm by no means coming down against voice over across the board as a narrative device), but it doesn't exactly take us deeper into the story or the characters. This is a small quibble, however. Animal Kingdom's ability to build tension to a fevered pitch, particularly in the much talked about scene that involves a car backing out of a garage, is something to marvel at and I'm amazed this is Michôd's first feature.
Grade: A-
Fair Game (dir. Doug Lyman)
Doug Lyman, who (let's face it) is a rather hit-or-miss director doesn't exactly miss here. But, his cinematic account of CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson (Naomi Watts) and how she was maliciously outed by the White House is a mixed bag that leans slightly more on the positive. I found myself wondering several things while watching Fair Game. Firstly, how is this story going to play to the section of the audience who are unfamiliar with the basics of the Valerie Plame scandal? I knew the very basic details of what happened in 2003, but I still felt as though the film took much too long to get into the nuts and bolts of the story I think it was trying to tell. When you only have 108 minutes to work with, this leaves the film feeling top-heavy, and the conclusion feeling rush. Lyman also serves as cinematographer on Fair Game. This is possibly a mistake--the film is peppered with some very baffling, arbitrary camerawork, particularly during a CIA briefing with Plame, other operatives and White House officials. I imagine this was an attempt to take a straight-down-the-middle narrative and make it more visually interesting, but it serves as more of a distraction than anything else. The film alternates between scenes such as these and scenes of Plame's domestic life with husband Joseph Wilson (Sean Penn). Here, there are real nuggets of great acting. Joe Wilson is a staunch liberal who of course took umbrage to what was done to his wife. I'm almost certain that Penn, given his own passionate political leanings, has lionized Joe Wilson in his mind. Yet, his performance here is surprisingly realistic and restrained, lacking the over-the-top, soapbox theatrics some may have expected. Naomi Watts is fine as well, playing Plame as alternately self-empowered and backed into a corner. She manages not to overact (21 Grams anyone?) but the performance still doesn't touch her best work. The problem is that Valerie and Joe's familial strife, though brought upon by the bigger storyline of the leak scandal is never married seamlessly with said storyline. As a result, it feels like the two plotlines exist in a vacuum and not enough time is spent on either. There's enough to recommend here, but Fair Game, while high-minded and well-intentioned, is ultimately unremarkable.
Grade: B-
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