Already? It's already time to start with the Oscar picks? I wait for the big day all year long, and here I am almost oblivious to the fact that it's less than 100 days away.
Getafilm is not the place to come for your awards coverage, but that doesn't mean I'm not obsessed with the Oscar ceremony, which I watch with the reverence of a monk. I don't watch it to celebrate the celebrities and the winners, but to commemorate the last year in film, which of course corresponds in many ways to the last year in my life.
But in the meantime, and in the spirit of the loud buzz that is emanating from Hollywood since Thanksgiving, I have some general Oscar theories that I consider each year:
1.) A one word title is a significant advantage in the Best Picture race.
Since 2000, three Best Picture winners have had one word titles: Gladiator, Chicago, and Crash. Additional nominees since then include Chocolat, Seabiscuit, Ray, Capote, Juno, and more:
Considering this, keep an eye this year on Che, Changeling, Ballast, Doubt, Milk, Valkyrie, Hunger, and Australia. I'll also add these: WALL-E, Frost/Nixon, Happy-Go-Lucky, and W. They may not technically be one word, but close enough, right?
2.) The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) loves Clint Eastwood - like LOVES him. Dig this: in three out of the last five years, Eastwood has been nominated for both Best Director and Best Picture. Both awards, three times since 2003! He even pulled a Best Actor nomination during that stretch, for Million Dollar Baby in 2004.
What does that mean this year? Gran Torino has to be considered a dark horse, if not a front-runner, for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor. Barring some public relations disaster in the next two months, I could literally see it winning all three of those. Eastwood knows exactly how to play Oscar politics. He knows when and how to release his films, and he's treated like a king in Hollywood. Never count him out.
3.)Kate Winslet has to win an Oscar at some point...right?
The woman is one of the greatest actresses of her generation, having been nominated for Best Actress or Best Supporting Actress five times in the last twelve years. She just turned 33 years old. Are you kidding me? This year, she is the only A-lister to have two possible Best Picture nominations in the race: The Reader, and Revolutionary Road, the more likely favorite that reteams her with Leonardo DiCaprio, 10 years removed from their career-making work in Titanic.
It's possible that she'll be nominated against herself for work in both of these movies, and if she still loses - wow.
Hmm, I thought I had some more but I can't remember them now. This is really the first time I've started to seriously consider next year's winners, so maybe they'll come back to me as the race kicks into high gear.
Australia bears all the hallmarks of an old Hollywood epic: sappy romance, horrifying bombing scenes, exotic culture, campy comedy, beautiful panoramas, evil villains and a majestic musical score. It's all grand and nostalgic. So then why is the movie such a disappointment? For one thing, it's way too long. I recently heard an interview with L.A. Times critic Kenneth Turan, who quipped that Australia was one of the few movies to feature its own sequel within its running time. It's true - the movie literally ends, with everything tidily resolved, before starting all over again. But it's not that having two movies in one is Australia's problem. It's that both of the movies are bad, which makes it a doubly long chore to sit through.
Unfortunately, Australia bears little of the experimental fun of BazLuhrmann's last two films, the acclaimed Moulin Rouge! and the underrated Romeo + Juliet. Like most people, I enjoyed those for their wild spirits, not for their conventional character, which makes you wonder why Luhrmann decided on telling a story from his native land with such by-the-book blandness. Somewhere in Australia (and Australia) is an interesting story, but it's obscured by all kinds of unnecessary details (who really cares about the technicalities of a real estate battle in the Outback?).
I'd have liked to learn more about Aboriginal culture, for example, which hasn't been touched on film since 2002's unforgettable Rabbit-Proof Fence (which also starred David Gulpilil, who plays King George here). In Australia, we get whiffs of the controversy and a cute face to admire (newcomer Brandon Walters, who was evidently directed by Luhrmann to channel Jar-Jar Binks), but the discussions are hardly thought-provoking, mostly because you realize everything is meant to revolve around the romance between Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman, both native Australians who agreed to star without having read the screenplay. The end result is that I wasn't moved by either the love story or the cultural story, and I was rolling my eyes much more than I was my wiping tears away from them. It's not that there aren't touching moments, but they're mostly accidental and even then they can be attributed to honest acting more than honest writing. Several deaths are truly tragic, and the backdrop of war behind everything eventually adds a somber mood (it's almost welcome by that point). But everytime you feel a touch of emotion coming on there's a silly joke to break up the mood or an impressive visual (and there are some very beautiful shots) to distract you from your own feelings.
Nicole Kidman searches for the end of the movie, not knowing it doesn't exist...
Australia presents us with a veritable smorgasbord of cinematic delights and plot tangents, and it's impossible not to feel uncomfortably full after consuming all of them. You can't push the plate away because it just keeps piling up with more, like some nightmarish buffet for the senses (it's fitting that the film was released at Thanksgiving). The same could probably be said for Moulin Rouge!, but as showy and theatrical as that was, there was something more... real about it. Additionally, it had a great soundtrack compared to Australia, which is almost entirely centered around "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Hugh Jackman asks his droving buddy not to whistle the tune near the end of the movie because it reminds him of a happier time in his life. I felt the same way, actually, and was relieved when he mercifully stopped whistling, partly because I'd grown tired of the song, but mostly because it reminded me of a better movie - one that I knew I'd rather be watching.
Grade: Writing - 7 Acting - 9 Production - 7 Emotional Impact - 6 Music - 5 Social Significance - 5
[Note:Dear Zachary will be airing on MSNBC on Sunday, December 7, 2008 at 1 PM EST, 9 PM EST and Midnight EST, and rebroadcast on December 14, 2008 at 4 PM EST. It is otherwise playing in extremely limited release, so this may be one of the few chances you have to see it. If you haven't seen it, I recommend you do so withoutreading further, though I don't explicitly give anything away.]
If only we all had a friend like filmmaker Kurt Kuenne. A friend who who would make a film about our lives for our children to see when they grow up. A friend who would gather all of our other friends and family together to recall their best memories with us. A friend who would work tirelessly to seek justice on our behalf after we're murdered in cold blood.
You have a lot of surreal, "what if?" moments like that during Kuenne's Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father. It's one of the most acclaimed documentaries of the year - but it's hardly a documentary at all. It's a tribute, a love letter, a thank-you and an indictment, among other things. Does it document a story? Yes, but unintentionally. As with Amir Bar-Lev's My Kid Could Paint That and my friends' Invisible Children Final Cut, it's a film that took a completely different direction after production began. Except in the case of Dear Zachary, it was never really meant to be a "film" in the first place.
On November 5, 2001, Kurt Kuenne's lifelong friend, Dr. Andrew Bagby, was murdered in Pennsylvania by a scorned, psychotic ex-girlfriend. By all accounts, Bagby was a pillar of humanity. He was the friend that everyone asks to be their best man, and the stranger that became your friend after your first meeting. To the horror of his friends and parents, the accused murderer, Dr. Shirley Turner, was allowed out on bail and fled to Newfoundland, Canada where she and Andrew had attended medical school. During the lengthy extradition proceedings, whatever hateful anger was left in the souls of Andrew's family and friends, including Kurt, was released upon hearing the news that Turner was 4 months pregnant with Andrew's child. Inspired by a sense of injustice and a passionate admiration for his murdered friend, Kurt set out to make a film for Andrew's unborn son, who would be named Zachary. Composed primarily of interviews with Andrew's friends and family, it would be visual letter - to a son, about his father.
Andrew Bagby, with his parents David and Kathleen Bagby
I can't say more, but what follows is very likely the most emotional personal tribute you've ever seen on film. Beyond creating a sense of riveting suspense as the story unfolds, Kuenne is stunningly successful at somehow bringing us, the viewers, literally into the story. Andrew becomes our murdered friend, and his parents our grieving parents. I don't mean to take away from the gravity of the situation and the grief of those involved, but it's just that you truly become absorbed - completely - by the story; you'll be lucky if you have the mental wherewithal to take a moment to think, "What am I watching right now?".
I wanted to smash the TV and crumple to the floor in tears. I almost did.
Charges against Dear Zachary will include the manipulative use of music (tenderly composed by Kuenne himself) and editing, and a faint similarity to a typical "Dateline" episode. Taken too far, however, such criticism becomes completely inappropriate. This is not a traditional documentary, and it's not meant to be one. Kuenne had no idea what would happen in the production of the film, and he had no idea of the audience that would ultimately end up seeing it. In a sense it simply exists as a collection of home videos synthesized into a narrative; anybody may have similar footage lying around their house. But we probably haven't viewed them through the lens of a tragedy like this, and for that we should be thankful.
Because of Dear Zachary we should be thankful for many things, actually. For people like David and Kathleen Bagby, Andrew's parents who have devoted their lives to bail reform in the hope that accused murderers won't walk the streets. For people like Kurt Kuenne, who spend years fighting for justice and put their personal lives on display for the world to see in the hope that people with similar experiences may find comfort. For our own friends and family, who love us probably more than we realize.
And for movies like Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, which has the potential to not only change the world by initiating legal reform, but change our own lives by causing us to take a moment and consider our existence in this world, and what we hope to do with the time we have left.
Grade: Writing - N/A Acting - N/A Production - 9 Emotional Impact - 10 Music - 5 Social Significance - 5
Should have been titled "The Family That Preys", but Tyler Perry already took it...
Find my review from the Star Tribune here. I think I was a half a star too generous.
There's a reason this movie was sitting on a shelf for the last year and a half after premiering at Tribeca 2007: it's unfit for consumption. Randall Miller is having quite a year for himself between this and Bottle Shock, having twice attempted to deep-six what's left of Alan Rickman's career.
Grade: Writing - 5 Acting - 7 Production - 8 Emotional Impact - 5 Music - 3 Social Significance - 3
For the second time this year, I've found myself reliving a history that I wasn't alive for: specifically, an inspiring event in the U.S. in the 70's. In 1974, Philippe Petit defied gravity for the simple reason that he could; in 1978, Harvey Milk ran for public office for the simple reason that he couldn't. Both men captured the attention of a city while inspiring a generation of people to reexamine their purpose in life.
I find it surprisingly easy to compare Man on Wire and Milk, maybe because the former was so unlike a documentary and the latter was so much like a documentary. A similarity through differences, if that makes sense. And then there's this trait that both share: while excellent films about important issues, neither moved me emotionally in the way I expected.
Milk, for all its painstaking work in illustrating eight years in the life of the gay rights activist-turned-politician Harvey Milk, still didn't quite succeed in connecting me with the man - and it's not because I'm straight. It's because I didn't feel as if I got to know who he was, where he came from and what he wanted in life. Of course I understand what he was fighting for, but you didn't have to make a movie to show me that. I mean I don't think I know who Harvey Milk was. It says something about the limitations of a biopic (and a life tragically cut short), I suppose, and it's made me rethink my own campaign for a film about the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Can a movie do justice to these stories about larger-than-life figures? In any case, Milk tells us more about the a movement than it does about a man - not a missed opportunity, just not the angle I was looking for.
Gus Van Sant (who directed Paranoid Park just last spring) does as much as he can with the by-the-book screenplay by Dustin Lance Black (the life-story-on-tape did nothing for me), and he fortunately has a dream of a cast at his disposal. James Franco (Pineapple Express) and Emile Hirsch (Speed Racer) excel in their respective roles, fully committing themselves to characters that I can only imagine are a far cry from their own identities. I suppose the same could be said for Diego Luna (most recently seen as Michael Jackson in Mister Lonely - don't ask), but his character is so annoying that you find yourself waiting for him to get off the screen. Josh Brolin (W.) continues to establish himself as a rising dramatic star, but we don't get enough time with him on his own to explore the depths of his character, either.
As the namesake of the film, Sean Penn delivers as expected, imbuing the hero with fiery emotion and a playful self-awareness. Clearly this was a role that Penn cared a great deal about, and his inevitable Oscar nomination can hardly be disputed. Part of me feels like I'm seeing him in the same roles over and over, but then again I'm someone who liked him in both All the King's Men and The Assassination of Richard Nixon, both of which were roundly panned (and I wonder if the criticism isn't what drove him to disappear behind the camera last year instead). There's no question that he's one of the greatest actors of his generation, and if he continues to seek out challenging roles he'll solidify his place as a Hollywood legend.
Sean Penn practices his Oscar acceptance speech - just in case...
Judging by the sniffling and cheering in the theater around me, it's clear that Milk has hit a cultural nerve in this country at this time, no doubt influenced by the recent Prop 8 vote in California. It's a movie that will educate a generation about a time that they may have either forgotten or simply been unaware of, and to that end it's a grand success. But it left me wanting more of Harvey Milk, and I still have a lingering feeling that it would take a documentary or (get this) a book for me to understand his motivations and the source of his courage. Carried by its outstanding ensemble cast, Milk will no doubt continue to receive attention during this awards season. If you're moved by it more than I was, I imagine it will be one of the most affecting movies you'll see all year. Grade: Writing - 7/10 Acting - 10/10 Production - 9/10 Emotional Impact - 8/10 Music - 5/5 Social Significance - 5/5
November's Underrated Movie of the Month (MOTM) again comes from 1998 (which is apparently in a duel with 1996 for the title of Most Underrated Movie Year of the 90's). Known as the last great film from John Frankenheimer, Ronin is also famous for featuring what's arguably considered the greatest car chase ever filmed. I hesitate to use the word "arguably" because it's not really a debate. It's the best chase ever - period.
Sneaking into theaters in September of 1998, Ronin was immediately submarined by the box-office monster Rush Hour, which opened the week prior and took no prisoners on its way to becoming a smash hit. I'd have to reference my ticket stub collection (yeah, I have one) to determine when I first saw Ronin, but it was definitely in the theater that fall because I remember how awesome my friends and I all thought it was.
Unfortunately, we differed from a number of stuffy critics. Writing in New York Magazine (before he became a critic for The New Yorker), David Denby lamented the nonsensical plot, ultimately calling Ronin "an act of connoisseurship for people who have given up on movies as an art form." In the Washington Post, Michael O'Sullivan compared it to "a high-brow Steven Seagal film, with massive gun battles that casually disregard civilian casualties and too many overlong car chases through the twisty streets of Paris and Nice." He even went on to chastise Frankenheimer for filming a car chase in the tunnels of Paris because it was "unnervingly reminiscent of a reenactment of Princess Di's demise." Come on. Reminds me of the "R" rating the MPAA slapped on Changing Lanes in 2002 because the World Trade Center towers could be seen in the background of a few scenes.
Is Ronin a classic crime caper for the ages? Maybe not. The plot is unnecessarily convoluted (Russian and Irish splinter groups are after a mysterious silver suitcase), there's not much character development and the finale is mostly lackluster. But all of these flaws make it merely good instead of excellent, and the action bumps it back up to at least a respectable level of greatness. The star-studded cast, which includes Robert De Niro, Jean Reno, Stellan Skarsgård, Sean Bean, Natascha McElhone and Jonathan Pryce, has been overlooked for far too long. While none of them turn in award-winning performances, they each perfectly fit their roles, and De Niro especially does well as the nucleus of the story. His do-it-yourself surgery following a gunshot wound may be a chore to sit through, but at least it's followed by a clever line: "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to pass out now."
Sounds a bit like David Mamet, doesn't it? I mean he rea- what's that? Mamet wrote the screenplay? But the credits list J.D. Zeik and Richard Weisz? Ah, I see. Mamet was so upset about sharing a screenwriting credit with Zeik (who created the story) that he refused to lend his real name to the film's credits. Politics aside, Mamet's sharp writing makes for some pretty entertaining dialogue - unusual for your average crime drama. Instead of rolling your eyes at typically predictable lines, you actually find yourself interested in the conversations even when you have no idea what the characters are talking about.
Ironically, however, the scenes without dialogue are the highlights of Ronin. Frankenheimer lets fast cars and big guns do the talking in several outstanding action sequences, all filmed on location in various French cities. Hundreds of stuntmen and stunt drivers were employed on the film, giving it an air of authenticity that you just don't see these days (some Bourne sequences and the opening of 2006's Casino Royale are maybe the last best examples). Why go through all that trouble choreographing long action sequences when you can use green screens and CGI? I'll tell you why - your car chases won't be nearly as impressive as those in Ronin. Like its peers in Bullitt and The French Connection (curiously, Frankenheimer directed The French Connection II), the chases in Ronin are long affairs that continue to build tension with every thrilling second. I'm not taking anything away from those masterful sequences - and they are masterful - but neither chase is as downright complicated as this one (watch it with full volume in full screen mode for the best experience):
This clip, in addition to an earlier chase scene in Nice (you'll have to rent the movie to see that one), completely changed the game for Hollywood car chases. Many have since tried to beat it (the Matrix Reloaded, the Bourne movies,the Bond movies, The Fast and The Furious, etc.), but they don't come close to achieving the gripping realism of the Paris chase, and it may be years before any movie does. Notice the lack of music during the first three minutes. The perfectly choreographed traffic, impossibly timed crashes and breathtaking near-misses. The first-person and behind-the-driver camera angles. The lack of silly tension-breakers ("Oh, whoops - sorry!"; "Hey, my caaaar!"). The seamless editing, and even the great acting by the drivers and passengers. On first viewing, about the only noticeable flaw in the chase (aside from the eventual use of music) is the fake-looking entry into the final tire blowout/rollover, but Frankenheimer can be forgiven for wanting to make it look like the actors were actually in the car.
It's a stunning seven minutes, and experiencing it in the theater was a thrill comparable to taking a BMW for a test drive. Speaking of which, that's exactly what legions of people would do years later when BMW released its brilliant marketing campaign, officially known as The Hire but informally known as the Best Car Commercials Ever Made. Eight short films featured Clive Owen driving people around in BMWs from different model series. The actors (his passengers) were Hollywood stars, and each of the films was directed by a different filmmaker, including Ang Lee, Alejandro González Iñárritu, Wong Kar-wai, and Guy Ritchie. And, at the helm of the very first of the eight films, The Ambush, was none other than John Frankenheimer, master of the car chase. It would be one of the last films directed by Frankenheimer before his death following a stroke in 2002. Looking back on his filmography, it's truly a shame that two out of his last three movies can be considered among the worst of the last decade and a half. Both The Island of Dr. Moreau, which immediately preceded Ronin, and Reindeer Games, which immediately followed it, are abominations. In fact if it wasn't for Ronin, you might have to go back to the 70's to find anything respectable by Frankenheimer, whose greatest career achievement was probably The Manchurian Candidate in 1962. He may not have been an Oscar-worthy director (he was never nominated in nearly four decades of work), but with Ronin he's left his legacy by influencing every car chase we've seen in the last 10 years.
