Diary of a Mad Film Fan

SAG Serves 'The Help' Three Awards

2012-01-30T10:00:00.000-08:00

The acclaimed Southern drama The Help took top honors at the 18th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards Sunday evening. Along with its prize for Best Cast in a Motion Picture, The Help also garnered Best Actress honors for Viola Davis and the Best Supporting Actress award for Octavia Spencer. See the complete list of winners here.

Christopher Plummer won the Best Supporting Actor trophy for Beginners as expected, but Jean Dujardin's Best Actor win for The Artist came as the biggest surprise of the evening. Fellow nominee George Clooney had been favored to win for The Descendants. This marks the first SAG award ever given for a performance in a silent film, and comes as the most notable upset in the Best Actor category since the 10th Awards when Johnny Depp bested Sean Penn. (The actors were nominated for Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl and Mystic River, respectively; Penn went on to win the Oscar for the latter.)

In the way of prognostication, the winners of this year's SAG Awards make the outcome of this year's Academy Awards all the more unpredictable. Though Christopher Plummer and Octavia Spencer appear to be rock-solid locks for the two supporting acting trophies, the other categories are tougher to call. Jean Dujardin could very well repeat his SAG award victory on the Oscar stage. Then again, Oscar voters could decide to give George Clooney his second statuette. (Both The Artist and The Descendants are nominated for Best Picture, making the race all the more competitive.) Viola Davis could cruise on the momentum of her Critics Choice and SAG award wins to claim the Best Actress Oscar. On the other hand, Michelle Williams could follow the three-times-a-charm rule for My Week with Marilyn after two previous Oscar nominations. Of course, Meryl Streep could collect her third Oscar for The Iron Lady.

In the way of Best Picture, The Help is currently riding high on SAG Award glory. The 84th Academy Awards are four weeks away, however, and plenty can happen between now and then. Hugo may lead the pack with eleven nominations, but The Artist has jewels from the New York Film Critics Circle, the Broadcast Film Critics Assocation, the Golden Globes, the Producers Guild, and most recently, the Directors Guild in its crown. Even if the general consensus tilts toward the lauded silent film between now and February 26th, there is still the chance of a jaw-dropping shock at the opening of the Best Picture envelope not seen since the 78th Academy Awards.

What effect do you think this year's SAG Awards will have on the Oscars? Leave a comment and let me know where you stand.

Michel Hazanavicius Victors at 64th DGA Awards

2012-01-28T23:18:00.001-08:00

Michel Hazanavicius won top honors for directing The Artist at the 64th Directors Guild of America Awards on Saturday night. This win places both Hazanavicius and The Artist in front runner position for the top two trophies at the 84th Academy Awards. View the full list of winners from the 64th DGA Awards here.

Sins of Omission, Pleasant Surprises, and Other Fun Facts

2012-01-26T14:33:00.000-08:00

The announcement of each year's Oscar nominations brings both delight and disappointment. Being that over 400 eligible releases compete for recognition in two dozen categories with room for two to nine nominations apiece means that some competitors will inevitably be left in the cold. This year comes as no exception. Here is an incomplete list of titles, performers, and other artists ignored by the 84th Academy Awards ballot.

BEST PICTURE

The Debt - John Madden's remake of the 2007 Israeli film counts as the best thriller since The Parallax View. Madden's direction is taut, confident, and a reminder of his versatility. Time and again while watching the film, I had to keep reminding myself that it was directed by the man responsible for Shakespeare in Love. Thomas Newman's score pours suspense onto every scene, and the wisely cast ensemble gives a gallery of strong performances. Sam Worthington brings a driven yet vulnerable intensity to his young Mossad operative on a Nazi fugitive's trail, Helen Mirren gives a courageous turn as a retired intelligence agent on a quest to redress a costly oversight, and Jessica Chastain is her equal as Mirren's younger counterpart. The fact that the film fell short of making the Best Picture roster is understandable, given the buzz surrounding The Artist, Hugo, The Descendants, and other films with December release dates, but the fact that The Debt was shut out of Oscar consideration altogether is baffling. Given a later release date and a stronger advertising campaign, the film could have found itself among the final nine, if not a possible tenth nominee for Best Picture.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - On the subject of remakes, David Fincher continues his critical hot streak with a stylish adaptation of Stieg Larsson's novel. Recollaborating with alumni from The Social Network, including an unrecognizable Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander, Fincher's Tattoo holds its own as a thriller every bit as good as -- if not better than -- the 2009 original. Jeff Cronenweth's chilly cinematography brings a dark ambience to the wintry Swedish locale, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross paint a sullen soundscape with their driving industrial score, and a capable cast brings their characters to life with Swedish accents that range from decent to spot-on. How a film like Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close gets nominated for Best Picture while a film like Tattoo gets passed over is beyond this blogger's comprehension.

BEST DIRECTOR

David Fincher - The man who came within an arm's reach of taking home his first gold statuette last year should have received a nomination for directing The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo this year. Just like he did with Zodiac, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and The Social Network, Fincher demonstrated a gift for bringing all elements of production into harmony with Tattoo. His recent snub notwithinstanding, Fincher appears to be in the midst of a creative surge. If he continues to grow as an artist, the highest of all film accolades will one day adorn his mantle.

Steven Spielberg - Perhaps the absence of the most successful director in history from this category should come as no surprise, especially since the man was summarily rejected by both the Hollywood Foreign Press Association and the Directors Guild of America for helming War Horse. The last time Steven Spielberg made two films in one year, he was nominated for one of them. (Lest you wonder, the year was 2005; the films in question are War of the Worlds and Munich, for which he was Oscar-nominated.) This time around, the Academy acknowledged his hard work by not only snubbing him from the Best Director roster, but omitting The Adventures of Tintin from the Best Animated Feature category. Though Horse features a few too many whopping coincidences to make the epic story hold water, one cannot doubt that the picture stands as a shining example of masterful filmmaking.

Tate Taylor - Let's play a little trivia game, shall we? What other film adaptation of a story set in the American South besides Driving Miss Daisy managed to garner three acting nominations and not one for its director? If you guessed a film based on a certain Kathryn Stockett novel, you win this round. Though The Help is, as Roger Ebert wisely noted, "a safe film about a volatile subject", Taylor captures a bygone American era with more resonance than The Tree of Life, whose foggy, meandering direction somehow managed to land Terrence Malick a nomination.

BEST ACTOR

Sir Ben Kingsley - The gifted British Oscar-winner responsible for stunning performances in Gandhi, Bugsy, Sexy Beast, and House of Sand and Fog makes magic with his inspired portrayal of Georges Méliès in Hugo. The transitions he makes from shattered artist to reinvigorated creator reflect the fastidiousness of a classically trained actor. The fact that Kingsley had to portray a director before the scrutinizing eyes of Martin Scorsese makes the challenge all the more daunting, but the results are as effortless as the flap of a bird's wings.

Here is where I need to make a confession: I did not see J. Edgar or Shame. Nevertheless, I am tempted to include Leonardo DiCaprio and Michael Fassbender on this list. Though DiCaprio received mixed reviews for his portrayal of the titual FBI director, Fassbender has garnered unanimous critical acclaim for his performance as a man who descends into a dark world of sex addiction. If you have seen either of these films, feel free to post a comment as to why either actor's absence from the Best Actor category is either undeserved or justified.

BEST ACTRESS

Helen Mirren - See my comments on The Debt above.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Albert Brooks - With wins from the New York Film Critics Circle and National Society of Film Critics under his belt, one would naturally expect the man primarily known for comic turns in Taxi Driver, Broadcast News, and Defending Your Life to be a shoo-in for Drive, especially since the role of mobster Bernie Rose saw him playing against type. The actor appears to be taking the snub in stride, however, as evidenced by his recent Twitter update.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Jessica Chastain - I know what you're thinking: "News flash, assclown. She WAS nominated." My response: "Yes, but for the wrong film." Though Chastain was charming as a housewife who befriends her maid in The Help, she was superb as a young Mossad agent who assists in the daring capture of a Nazi fugitive while juggling two romances. In the final analysis, Chastain's recognition in this category could be a momentum nomination for The Help, just as Geoffrey Rush's Best Supporting Actor nomination for Shakespeare in Love helped the film lead the 71st Annual pack with 13 nods, even though Rush gave a stronger performance in Elizabeth.

Though I could go on with snubs in other categories (e.g., Wally Pfister not receiving a Best Cinematography nomination for Moneyball), it's time to move on to the pleasant surprise portion of today's blog entry. Here is an incomplete list of actors whose inclusion in this year's Oscar race caught fans by surprise.

BEST ACTOR

Demián Bichir - This MSN article that ran a few days before the nominations announcement advised viewers to look sharp for a few surprises. Lo and behold, number six on Steve Pond's list came to fruition. Prediction: Bichir's nomination for A Better Life will have the exact effect on his career that Javier Bardem's Best Actor nomination for Before Night Falls and Billy Bob Thornton's Best Actor nomination for Sling Blade had on theirs.

Gary Oldman - The man behind such gripping characterizations as self-destructive punk rocker Sid Vicious in Sid & Nancy, celebrated playwright Joe Orton in Prick Up Your Ears, and the brilliant but tormented composer Ludwig van Beethoven in Immortal Beloved finally received his virgin Oscar nod for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. Though the chances of Oldman winning are slim, he no longer has to worry about joining the ranks of Edward G. Robinson, Dana Andrews, Tyrone Power, and other actors who went to the grave without a single nomination to their names.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Nick Nolte - Though his name was absent from the end-of-year awards lists voted on by the major critics organizations in New York, Los Angeles, and at the National Board of Review, Nolte's powerful performance in the acclaimed Warrior caught the Academy's attention. Playing an emotionally wounded father who trains his estranged son to fight in an MMA bout, Nolte hits nothing but honest notes every moment he appears on screen, especially in a scene that depicts a relapse in painfully depressing detail. One wonders if the actor drew upon his own struggles with alcoholism to portray the character so convincingly.

Max Von Sydow - Arguably the most surprising acting nomination on the ballot this year, screen veteran Max Von Sydow rounds out the Best Supporting Actor category with his performance in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. In the role of a mysterious mute, Von Sydow earns his first nomination in 23 years; his second altogether. Von Sydow joins the likes of Alan Arkin in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, John Mills in Ryan's Daughter, and Holly Hunter in The Piano in receiving a nomination for a non-speaking role.

To wind up this post, I leave you with a list of fun facts about this year's Academy Award nominations. Enjoy.

- Nine of the twenty individuals in the acting categories (45% total) are first-time nominees. They are: Demián Bichir for A Better Life, Jean Dujardin for The Artist, Gary Oldman for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Rooney Mara for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Jonah Hill for Moneyball, Bérénice Bejo for The Artist, Melissa McCarthy for Bridesmaids, and Jessica Chastain and Octavia Spencer for The Help.

- The nationality breakdown of the performers nominated this year is as follows: twelve are Americans, three are British, two are French (and one of them is Argentine-French), one is a Canadian, one is a Mexican, and one is a Swede.

- The average age of the male performers nominated this year is 55.1.

- The average age of the female performers nominated this year is 42.6.

- The average age of all performers nominated this year is 48.9.

- For the record, here are the ages of all performers nominated this year:

Demián Bichir is 48.
George Clooney is 50.
Jean Dujardin is 39.
Gary Oldman is 53.
Brad Pitt is 48.
Glenn Close is 64.
Viola Davis is 46.
Rooney Mara is 26.
Meryl Streep is 62.
Michelle Williams is 31.
Kenneth Branagh is 51.
Jonah Hill is 28.
Nick Nolte is 70.
Christopher Plummer is 82.
Max Von Sydow is 82.
Bérénice Bejo is 35.
Jessica Chastain is 30.
Melissa McCarthy is 41.
Janet McTeer is 50.
Octavia Spencer is 41.

- One posthumous nomination, Bridget O'Connor's Best Adapted Screenplay nod for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, was given this year.

- Four performers are nominated for portraying real people. They are: Brad Pitt as Billy Beane in Moneyball, Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady, and Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe and Kenneth Branagh as Sir Laurence Olivier, both in My Week with Marilyn.

- With her Best Actress nod for The Iron Lady, Meryl Streep stretches her record for the most recognized performer of all time to 17 nominations.

- John Williams' Best Original Score nods for The Adventures of Tintin and War Horse bring his career tally to 47 nominations, maintaining his record as the most nominated living person. Should he live to earn 13 more nominations, John Williams will break Walt Disney's record for the most Academy Award nominations ever received by a single person.

- Hugo is the first film since Lord of the Rings: Return of the King to receive eleven nominations without being nominated in any of the acting categories.

- The Artist is the first silent film nominated for Best Picture in 82 years. The last silent film to receive this honor was 1928's The Patriot. If The Artist wins Best Picture, it will become the second silent film after Wings -- Best Picture winner at the 1st Academy Awards -- to do so.

- Michel Hazanavicius is the only first-time nominee in the Best Director category.

- The film with the most nominations for acting, The Help at three, did not receive a nomination for Best Director.

What your thoughts on this year's Oscar nominations? Do you have an omissions list that differs from mine? Which artists or films do you think have no business being nominated this year? Let your voice be heard with a comment below.

'Hugo' Leads Oscar Field with 11 Nominations

2012-01-24T06:59:00.000-08:00

Oscar nominee Jennifer Lawrence joined AMPAS President Tom Sherak to announce the nominations for the 84th Academy Awards this morning. Hugo, Martin Scorsese's endearing valentine to the birth of cinema, received the most nominations of any film with eleven. The complete list of nominees is as follows:

Best Picture
The Artist - Thomas Langmann, Producer
The Descendants - Jim Burke, Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor, Producers
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close - Scott Rudin, Producer
The Help - Brunson Green, Chris Columbus and Michael Barnathan, Producers
Hugo - Graham King and Martin Scorsese, Producers
Midnight in Paris - Letty Aronson and Stephen Tenenbaum, Producers
Moneyball - Michael De Luca, Rachael Horovitz and Brad Pitt, Producers
The Tree of Life - Nominees to be determined
War Horse - Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, Producers

Directing
The Artist - Michel Hazanavicius
The Descendants - Alexander Payne
Hugo - Martin Scorsese
Midnight in Paris - Woody Allen
The Tree of Life - Terrence Malick

Actor in a Leading Role
Demián Bichir - A Better Life
George Clooney - The Descendants
Jean Dujardin - The Artist
Gary Oldman - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Brad Pitt - Moneyball

Actor in a Supporting Role
Kenneth Branagh - My Week with Marilyn
Jonah Hill - Moneyball
Nick Nolte - Warrior
Christopher Plummer - Beginners
Max von Sydow - Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Actress in a Leading Role
Glenn Close - Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis - The Help
Rooney Mara - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Meryl Streep - The Iron Lady
Michelle Williams - My Week with Marilyn

Actress in a Supporting Role
Bérénice Bejo - The Artist
Jessica Chastain - The Help
Melissa McCarthy - Bridesmaids
Janet McTeer - Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer - The Help

Animated Feature Film
A Cat in Paris - Alain Gagnol and Jean-Loup Felicioli
Chico & Rita - Fernando Trueba and Javier Mariscal
Kung Fu Panda 2 - Jennifer Yuh Nelson
Puss in Boots - Chris Miller
Rango - Gore Verbinski

Art Direction
The Artist - Production Design: Laurence Bennett; Set Decoration: Robert Gould
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 - Production Design: Stuart Craig; Set Decoration: Stephenie McMillan
Hugo - Production Design: Dante Ferretti; Set Decoration: Francesca Lo Schiavo
Midnight in Paris - Production Design: Anne Seibel; Set Decoration: Hélène Dubreuil
War Horse - Production Design: Rick Carter; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales

Cinematography
The Artist - Guillaume Schiffman
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - Jeff Cronenweth
Hugo - Robert Richardson
The Tree of Life - Emmanuel Lubezki
War Horse - Janusz Kaminski

Costume Design
Anonymous - Lisy Christl
The Artist - Mark Bridges
Hugo - Sandy Powell
Jane Eyre - Michael O'Connor
W.E. - Arianne Phillips

Documentary (Feature)
Hell and Back Again - Danfung Dennis and Mike Lerner
If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front - Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman
Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory - Charles Ferguson and Audrey Marrs
Pina - Wim Wenders and Gian-Piero Ringel
Undefeated - TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas

Documentary (Short Subject)
The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement - Robin Fryday and Gail Dolgin
God Is the Bigger Elvis - Rebecca Cammisa and Julie Anderson
Incident in New Baghdad - James Spione
Saving Face - Daniel Junge and Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy
The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom - Lucy Walker and Kira Carstensen

Film Editing
The Artist - Anne-Sophie Bion and Michel Hazanavicius
The Descendants - Kevin Tent
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall
Hugo - Thelma Schoonmaker
Moneyball - Christopher Tellefsen

Foreign Language Film
Bullhead - (Belgium)
Footnote - (Israel)
In Darkness - (Poland)
Monsieur Lazhar - (Canada)
A Separation - (Iran)

Makeup
Albert Nobbs - Martial Corneville, Lynn Johnston and Matthew W. Mungle
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 - Edouard F. Henriques, Gregory Funk and Yolanda Toussieng
The Iron Lady - Mark Coulier and J. Roy Helland

Music (Original Score)
The Adventures of Tintin - John Williams
The Artist - Ludovic Bource
Hugo - Howard Shore
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - Alberto Iglesias
War Horse - John Williams

Music (Original Song)
"Man or Muppet" from The Muppets - Music and Lyric by Bret McKenzie
"Real in Rio" from Rio - Music by Sergio Mendes and Carlinhos Brown Lyric by Siedah Garrett

Short Film (Animated)
Dimanche/Sunday - Patrick Doyon
The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore - William Joyce and Brandon Oldenburg
La Luna - Enrico Casarosa
A Morning Stroll - Grant Orchard and Sue Goffe
Wild Life - Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby

Short Film (Live Action)
Pentecost - Peter McDonald and Eimear O'Kane
Raju - Max Zähle and Stefan Gieren
The Shore - Terry George and Oorlagh George
Time Freak - Andrew Bowler and Gigi Causey
Tuba Atlantic - Hallvar Witzø

Sound Editing
Drive - Lon Bender and Victor Ray Ennis
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - Ren Klyce
Hugo - Philip Stockton and Eugene Gearty
Transformers: Dark of the Moon - Ethan Van der Ryn and Erik Aadahl
War Horse - Richard Hymns and Gary Rydstrom

Sound Mixing
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce and Bo Persson
Hugo - Tom Fleischman and John Midgley
Moneyball - Deb Adair, Ron Bochar, Dave Giammarco and Ed Novick
Transformers: Dark of the Moon - Greg P. Russell, Gary Summers, Jeffrey J. Haboush and Peter J. Devlin
War Horse - Gary Rydstrom, Andy Nelson, Tom Johnson and Stuart Wilson

Visual Effects
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 - Tim Burke, David Vickery, Greg Butler and John Richardson
Hugo - Rob Legato, Joss Williams, Ben Grossman and Alex Henning
Real Steel - Erik Nash, John Rosengrant, Dan Taylor and Swen Gillberg
Rise of the Planet of the Apes - Joe Letteri, Dan Lemmon, R. Christopher White and Daniel Barrett
Transformers: Dark of the Moon - Scott Farrar, Scott Benza, Matthew Butler and John Frazier

Writing (Adapted Screenplay)
The Descendants - Screenplay by Alexander Payne and Nat Faxon & Jim Rash
Hugo - Screenplay by John Logan
The Ides of March - Screenplay by George Clooney & Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon
Moneyball - Screenplay by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin. Story by Stan Chervin
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - Screenplay by Bridget O'Connor & Peter Straughan

Writing (Original Screenplay)
The Artist - Written by Michel Hazanavicius
Bridesmaids - Written by Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
Margin Call - Written by J.C. Chandor
Midnight in Paris - Written by Woody Allen
A Separation - Written by Asghar Farhadi

Tune in to see the winners live Sunday, February 26th on ABC.

The Grand Delusion

2012-01-08T21:32:00.000-08:00

The arrival of a new year often signals an interest in pursuing goals. While sights like busy fitness centers, crowded health food stores, and people working overtime illustrate the power of determination, the psychological effect of said endeavors has a harmful side. The nexus of this effect is a destructive part of our culture, and it shames me to say that I once bought into it.

By now, you may be saying to yourself, "Wait a minute, isn't this a movie blog? What's with the social commentary?" Fair questions. To answer the first, yes, this is primarily a blog about movies. This brings me to the second question. As Phillip Lopate wrote in his splended introduction to the indispensible 2007 volume "Ameican Movie Critics", an interest in non-cinematic subjects expands intellectual exposure and, in turn, makes a better critic. Besides, this is my blog, and I'll cover any topic I damn well please. That being said, onward.

The crusade I'm referring to is the self-improvement movement. Specifically, I take aim at "The Secret", I take aim at Tony Robbins, and I especially take aim at all of the worthless merchandise in the way of books, audio CDs, DVDs, and toll-free coaching programs that promise health, wealth, success, and happiness beyond your wildest dreams. This is the kind of chicanery that turns people into check-mailing slaves and gives our society a bad name.

Since the economy took an unforgiving nosedive in September of 2008, the snake oil salesmen among us have caught on to the fact that people are desperate to make ends meet. Speaking to people from various backgrounds, these charismatic entrepreneurs tour the country giving magic answer lectures to anyone dumb enough to listen: "Laid off? Buy my book! Newly divorced? Download my action plan! Want to get rich in 90 days? Here's how to order!" Just about everywhere one looks and listens, one sees and hears these messages. There's no escaping them.

Here's my problem with the self-improvement movement: it makes exaggerated claims and places all of the fault on you when life doesn't go your way. Granted, there are books and courses filled with beneficial information on finance, nutrition, social skills, and other important subjects that have played instrumental roles in people turning their lives around. These are clearly exceptions to the rule and do not belong in my crosshairs.

As I stated earlier, I bought into this fraud years ago when I sold real estate full time. For more than a year, I was involved with a "telecoaching" program offered by a company that shall remain nameless. What attracted me to this "proven sales system" was its guarantee of increased production, a goal that every salesman wants to achieve. When I first signed up, I was told by a company employee that, if I followed the system to a tee, I would sell at least fifty houses by the end of the year. Excited beyond comprehension, I threw myself at the program with everything I had.

The coaching series consisted of weekly group phone calls on which a frighteningly enthusiastic team leader would give us high-pressure selling scripts to use in the field. When those of us enrolled in the program returned a week later to report that we didn't make any sales because the client listed their house with another agent, because the client decided to renew the lease on their apartment instead of buy a house, or because the client saw through our phony gimmicks like cellophane, the coaches would blame us for our failures. They'd scold us with comments like: "A good agent would've made that sale...but you didn't do that, did you?" Or: "I spent an hour going over this material with you last week and you're sitting there acting like it's rocket science. Seriously, what part of this do you not get?" Or: "The reason you didn't make that sale is because is because you have an attitude problem." Or, my favorite: "The reason you didn't make that sale is because you didn't think big enough."

And there's the common thread that ties this trash together: thinking big. Whether you're dealing with a real estate hustler, a personal finance hustler, a personal health hustler, or especially a religious leader, they'll tell you that any problem life throws your way can be quickly and permanently solved by convincing yourself that you're better than you really are. If you're poor, for example, your coach will urge you to think of yourself as a millionaire in the making. Color me pessimistic, but a grown adult can spend all day fantasizing about living in a Tudor mansion on Lakeshore Drive, but when said person returns to reality and looks at their ATM receipt, they'll see the same triple-digit balance that's been giving them heartburt for years. Once, I heard some self-proclaimed "expert" advising people to write their most challenging problem on a slip of paper, read it once aloud, and set fire to it. The expert said, "Watch: it's gone! Hey, Nixon did it to the Watergate tapes. Why can't you do it to your problems?"

For my money, this kind of thinking has never been better mocked than by Al Franken's classic "Saturday Night Live" sketch in which he portrayed the effeminate self-help guru Stuart Smalley. Remember when that goofy-looking gap would sit in front of a mirror and say, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me"? The United States is full of grown men and women who take that parody seriously! If you don't believe me, simply step inside a salesperson's office and look at the wall above their desk.

One could argue that thinking big is the key to the depression epidemic. It starts when people set unreasonably high expectations for themselves. After expending a painful amount of physical effort, emotional energy, and money into their goals and failing to achieve them in a short amount of time, they beat themselves up and fall into a funk. When said folks call their life coach to tell them that they're going to set a smaller goal the next time around or that they have to quit the program because they ran out of money, the coach berates the individual for thinking too small. The next thing the poor fool knows, he's aiming high and crashing hard again. That's how these crooks manipulate people into vicious circles.

What's really sad is when you meet someone who's so far gone with their chosen rip-off that they don't even realize they're being scammed. If you sit one of these folks down and try to talk to them rationally about what's going on in their life, within seconds they resort to bumper sticker bullet points that some babbling cult leader shoved down their throat. They make statements like, "Well, I just gotta fake it 'til I make it, you know? I just have to stamp out that stinkin' thinkin' and get busy! What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve, right? Like it or not, we become what we think about and we create our own obstacles." Sure. Tell that to a six-year-old with leukemia. Like compulsive gamblers, these people are convinced that they're just one spin away from hitting the big time, even though they're neck-deep in debt. The longer you watch them unravel, the more you ask yourself, "How many times is this idiot going to fall on his face before he realizes that his habits aren't working?" Recently, I had lunch with a dear friend who hit the nail on the head when this subject came up in conversation. He said, "The more I research that whole Napoleon Hill/'Think and Grow Rich' culture, the more I'm convinced that it's a lie. The only ones who profit from it are the publishers who sell the books."

Would you like to know the secret to my success, dear reader? It comes from following three simple steps: I think small, I act small, and I earn small. That's it. I don't trick myself into a god complex by chanting affirmations, I don't pay some charlatan a thousand dollars a month to belittle me over the phone, I don't bite off more than I can chew, and I'm certainly not burning myself out. I think small, I act, and I earn small -- and I repeat the cycle often enough to earn a decent living. And would you like to know something else? I have less stress and more satisfaction in my life now than I ever did when I deluded myself. Granted, I'm not a millionaire, I don't drive a luxury car, I don't own a yacht, and I don't have any venture capital to spare, but I'll tell you what I do have: stability. And at this point in my life, that means more to me than gracing the cover of Money magazine.

To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind spotting a series on thinking small the next time I visit Barnes & Noble or tune in to late-night TV, but that will never see the light of day in this country. The reason for this is simple. People do not want to hear the truth. They want to deceived. They don't want to be reminded of how poor, boring, fat, bald, stupid, ugly, weak, or annoying they are, so they cling to their self-help CDs and motivational mobile apps like security blankets in order to escape from reality. Years ago, I read a quote from David Mamet that goes "people like to be fooled", and I thought he was out of his mind. Now, I know exactly what he was talking about.

The ugly, brutal, non-negotiable truth is that most attempts end in failure, and more dreams break than come true. It's a rough, dirty world in which we live, and there's plenty more that's beyond your control than there is that's within it. The minute you believe that there's nothing beyond your control is the moment you delude yourself. So, the next time I encounter someone who asks what being an American has taught me, I'll say, "Two lessons. One: the biggest and the meanest get to make all the rules; and two: with enough time and effort, people can fool themselves into believing anything." With that, I wish you a productive and rewarding 2012, free of the deception that contributes, as Arthur C. Clarke once noted, to the rotting of the human mind.

An Unpredictable Rhythm

2012-01-08T18:59:00.000-08:00

This time of year is always exciting for movie fans. The buildup to the Super Bowl of awards ceremonies is marked by the traditional blizzard of announcements by various voting bodies, with strong contenders emerging along the way. This year, the rhythm of awards season is paving the way for an Oscar night on which anything can happen.

The New York Film Critics Circle cast the first major awards vote of the season in late November when they named The Artist Best Picture of 2011. Later that week, the National Board of Review gave their top honor to Hugo. The critics in Los Angeles followed with The Descendants emerging as their year-end favorite, and just yesterday, the National Society of Film Critics picked Melancholia as the best film of the year.

Anyone who follows movies closely knows that this particular cycle is anything but predictable. In a cut-and-dried year, a critical darling emerges early and rides the tide of critical momentum all the way to the stage of the Kodak Theater. No Country for Old Men followed that pattern four years ago, as did Slumdog Millionaire the following year. At the 82nd Awards a year later, the alimony showdown that pitted James Cameron's Avatar against Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker made for a suspenseful matchup that shattered the gender barrier in the directing category and awarded the gripping Iraq War drama with six statuettes including Best Picture. The race was also notable in that it saw ten contenders in the Best Picture field for the first time in nearly seven decades.

Last year's awards season could very well be likened to a splitter pitch in baseball. The Social Network burst onto the scene when the National Board of Review named David Fincher's Facebook drama Best Picture of 2010, but the Producers Guild killed the film's momentum late in the game by giving their top honor to The King's Speech, a decision soon echoed by the Academy. In retrospect, the 83rd Academy Awards could be described as 1976 revisited, with a critically praised, courageous drama about living people -- All the President's Men/The Social Network -- losing to an inspirational tale that moved audiences everywhere -- Rocky/The King's Speech.

This brings us to the present day. As it stands, the critical establishment appears to be divided between The Artist and The Descendants in their Best Picture predictions. Steve Pond at TheWrap.com makes this astute observation about the role that The Weinstein Company is playing in this year's Oscar race. This Thursday's 17th Critics' Choice Awards will help bring the field into focus, as will next Sunday's 69th Golden Globe Awards. With the announcement of the nominations for the 84th Academy Awards a full two weeks away, this blogger is not quite ready to make any predictions. Not unlike this year's presidential election, the 2011-2012 movie awards season has thus far shown us that expected front runners can drop like flies and all but forgotten underdogs can jump to the front of the pack.

Which films will you be rooting for this year? Would you like to make any early prognostications about those coveted golden statuettes? Fill me in with your comments below.

NBR Names 'Hugo' Best Film of 2011

2011-12-05T12:20:00.000-08:00

Martin Scorsese's Hugo, the acclaimed 3D adaptation of Brian Selznick's novel, was voted Best Film of 2011 by the National Board of Review last Thursday. The New York City voting group also named Scorsese as Best Director of the Year for his achievement. Oscar winners George Clooney and Tilda Swinton took home lead acting honors for The Descendants and We Need to Talk About Kevin, respectively. Supporting role wins went to Christopher Plummer for Beginners and Shailene Woodley for The Descendants.

Here is a complete list of NBR Award winners for 2011:

Best Film: Hugo
Best Director: Martin Scorsese, Hugo
Best Actor: George Clooney, The Descendants
Best Actress: Tilda Swinton, We Need to Talk About Kevin
Best Supporting Actor: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Best Supporting Actress: Shailene Woodley, The Descendants
Best Original Screenplay: Will Reiser, 50/50
Best Adapted Screenplay: Alexander Payne and Nat Faxon & Jim Rash, The Descendants
Best Animated Feature: Rango
Breakthrough Performance: Felicity Jones, Like Crazy
Breakthrough Performance: Rooney Mara, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Debut Director: J.C. Chandor, Margin Call
Best Ensemble: The Help
Spotlight Award: Michael Fassbender (A Dangerous Method, Jane Eyre, Shame, X-Men: First Class)
NBR Freedom of Expression: Crime After Crime
NBR Freedom of Expression: Pariah
Best Foreign Language Film: A Separation - (Iran)
Best Documentary: Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Special Achievement in Filmmaking: The Harry Potter Franchise - A Distinguished Translation from Book
to Film

Top Films
(in alphabetical order)

The Artist
The Descendants
Drive
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2
The Ides of March
J. Edgar
Tree of Life
War Horse

Top 5 Foreign Language Films
(In Alphabetical Order)

13 Assassins
Elite Squad: The Enemy Within
Footnote
Le Havre
Point Blank

Top 5 Documentaries
(In Alphabetical Order)

Born to be Wild
Buck
George Harrison: Living in the Material World
Project Nim
Senna

Top 10 Independent Films
(In Alphabetical Order)

50/50
Another Earth
Beginners
A Better Life
Cedar Rapids
Margin Call
Shame
Take Shelter
We Need To Talk About Kevin
Win Win

It is too soon to predict Hugo's chances at the Best Picture Oscar. In the 80 years that the NBR has chosen their annual best film, the Academy has subsequently agreed with their choice a mere twenty times. The next major awards season announcement is scheduled for Sunday, December 11th, when the Los Angeles Film Critics Circle names its year-end picks.

New York Film Critics Honor 'The Artist'

2011-11-29T09:43:00.001-08:00

On the heels of last night's Gotham Independent Film Awards, the New York Film Critics Circle has announced their annual end-of-year selections for the best achievements in motion pictures. The guild made their announcement via Twitter this morning. Along with the fresh crop of nominations for the 27th Independent Spirit Awards, it's a big day for movie news. Read the full NYFCC list of winners here.

Notable omissions include The Descendants, Alexander Payne's well-received adaptation of Kaui Hart Hemmings' novel, Hugo, Martin Scorsese's first family film, and War Horse, Steven Spielberg's highly anticipated World War I drama.

The next awards season event is scheduled for this Thursday, December 1st, when the National Board of Review casts their annual votes.

The Great Sacrament of Cinema

2011-11-21T20:57:00.000-08:00

Since Charlie Chaplin performed his winning roll dance in The Gold Rush, film directors have used meal scenes to capture a host of emotions; celebration, romance, resentment, and reconciliation, to name but a few. These golden moments not only whet our appetite, but involve us with the story as closely as any character on screen. With Thanksgiving upon us, the time is ripe for a glimpse at that welcoming movie setting, the family dinner table. Pull up a chair, dear reader, and enjoy this blessed feast of treasures from years past that remind us why the dinner table scene is the great sacrament of cinema.

Avalon - Barry Levinson's heartfelt masterpiece follows three generations of an immigrant family in Baltimore. (Has the Jewish experience in America ever been captured on celluloid more movingly?) The first family gathering scene depicts the perfect Thanksgiving dinner to a tee.

Stagecoach - In this hallmark western, a group of discordant stagecoach passengers embarks on a fast-paced jaunt through hostile territory. Along the way, the riders pause to enjoy a quick meal. John Ford uses the humble setting to establish the personalities of the characters and to ignite a liking between a pair regarded as outcasts by the others. The scene in question begins at 27:47.

It's a Wonderful Life - Every scene in America's perennial Christmas favorite simply sings. Here, our kindly protagonist sits down with dear old dad to discuss his future before leaving to attend his younger brother's graduation party. This brief but warm exchange between father and so is made all the more poignant, we soon learn, because it is their last.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind - Just as it is in real life, dinner time in the movies is not always a happy occasion. In this memorable moment from Steven Spielberg's classic sci-fi adventure, a father becomes a man obsessed before his worried family's eyes.

The Godfather, Part II - The haunting finale from the second installment of the Godfather trilogy scores a triumph. At first, the flashback appears to be a remembrance of happier times. Soon, however, the true reason for the recollection is unveiled. Francis Ford Coppola brilliantly juxtaposes the young Michael Corleone at the dinner table and the elder Michael Corleone in his darkened Lake Tahoe living room to reveal his essence: a tragic figure doomed to a life of loneliness by his own doing.

The Deer Hunter - This controversial but galvanizing saga stands as one of the most powerful war films ever made. In this moving conclusion, a close-knit circle of friends comforts one another after a funeral. Like many veteran communities, the horror of war has torn them apart, but love of country has brought them together.

Young Frankenstein - Mel Brooks and company send up Mary Shelley's famous horror novel in this wildly amusing romp. Here, an attempt at hospitality ends in disaster. With precision comic timing, Gene Hackman sews the perfect button on the scene with his hilarious final line.

American Beauty - This Best Picture winner from 1999 has stood the test of time as a near-perfect suburban family drama. Upon its release, Kevin Spacey's rebellious anti-hero Lester Burnham inspired scores of miserable men to change their lives. In this scene, a fed-up Lester takes an overdue stand.

Babette's Feast - The joy of cooking is brought vividly to life in this winning gem from Denmark. In the climactic dinner scene, a respected general expresses his gratitude for the world class feast -- and unconsciously resolves the regrets of a misspent youth -- with an eloquent speech modeled on Psalm 85.

Mercy is Infinite

Babette's Feast

— MOVIECLIPS.com

Moonstruck - A colorful assortment of Italian-Americans in N.Y.C. weave a tangled romantic web in one of the best comedies of the 1980s. In this exchange from the flawless finale, a devoted but beleaguered wife forces her philandering husband to change his ways.

Have I Been a Good Wife?

Moonstruck

— MOVIECLIPS.com

What are your favorite dinner table scenes? Share your thoughts with a comment below. Until next time, may your Thanksgiving be filled with delicious food, precious people, and warm memories to last a lifetime.

My List of Epiphany Films

2009-11-15T23:37:00.000-08:00

Blogging is like being in a relationship. Revealing too much about oneself too soon can scare away a potential match. Conversely, revealing too little can come off as a sign of cold indifference, and can drive someone away just as quickly. Since I've had this blog up and running for nearly two years, I think it's safe to say that we've come to the point in our relationship where I make some deep, meaningful revelations. Not about my personal life, but about my taste in movies. While I have given hints from time to time as to where my tastes on the spectrum of cinema fall, I have yet to come right out and tell you what kinds of movies genuinely move me...until now.

Normally, any blogger worth their salt would reserve this list for the sidebar or another such feature on the home page of their blog. Since I have so much to say here, I just couldn't squeeze this missive into a space that small. Before I get to the first title on the list, I believe it necessary to make an important disclosure. These aren't necessarily my favorite films of all time; rather, these are films that appeal to my Renaissance Man sensibility and make me examine what goes on in every frame with a refined eye. These are movies I discovered at a time in my life where I was beginning my emergence from the angst-ridden pit of adolescence and making my gradual transition to the exciting new world of adulthood. Every title on this list holds a special place in my heart because they all came along at just the right time, like a dismissal bell that saves you from answering a tough question. Movies like these, I find, need to be revisited and appreciated for different reasons. Too often, we only taste the grape when we drink our first glass of wine. It's only after years of growth and experience that the palate grabs the other, subtler flavors.

The Godfather - Some films you remember for striking imagery, gripping scenes, or bright dialogue. Others you remember for exquisitely drawn characters who etch a permanent place in your memory. Others still you remember for a catchy musical score. The Godfather is a movie you remember for all these reasons and more. For me, there isn't a moment in this film that isn't a tour de force. Everything about this movie represents the best in every discipline of the cinema. The script sizzles with delicious dialogue, every actor is at the top of their game, every shot is painstakingly composed, and every period detail is rendered to perfection. Francis Ford Coppola blended every part of his production to create a cinematic offering as irresistible as pasta puttanesca. One could throw a dart at any page of the script and hit an unforgettable scene. I first saw this film at the age of nine, and have not seen a single movie the same way since. The murder scenes gave me nightmares, and to this day I cannot stop at a toll booth or walk through a revolving door without getting caught in the chilling grip of anxiety. Never before had I seen screen violence captured with operatic vividness. In spite of my trepidation, the film has not lost its ability to fascinate me. Whenever I need a dose of bonafide inspiration, a single viewing of this masterpiece restores my creative faculties to their fullest vitality.

The Graduate - The spring of 1995 stands out in my memory as one of the happiest of my life. I was seventeen, my Renaissance Man sensibility was awakening, and the unusually hot weather made my hormones run wild for certain girls at school -- not to mention some of their mothers. My fleeting crushes on female grade school teachers, babysitters, and my mother's hair salon clients from early childhood made me realize early on that I have romantic gravitations toward older women. With that penchant in place, it was only a matter of time before I encountered The Graduate. After renting a VHS copy from Blockbuster one Saturday night, I sat transfixed in front of the living room television for two hours, and can remember feeling sadly disappointed when I saw Dustin Hoffman and Katharine Ross going down a road in the back of that bus. But alas, all the great movies end too soon. Hoffman stunned me with his career-launching performance in the title role. Though I had already seen him in Tootsie, Rain Man, Dick Tracy, and Lenny, he reaffirmed his status as an acting hero in my book. He didn't play Benjamin Braddock so much as he inhabited him. The standout feature in this film, however, is the direction of Mike Nichols. There were so many touches -- the cut from Hoffman emerging from his swimming pool directly into Mrs. Robinson's bed, the toast popping up just after Ben announces his plans to marry Elaine, the filming of Ben's backyard birthday party through the goggles of his wetsuit -- that just floored me. The Graduate is one of those rare American movies that captures the joy of moviemaking. Too often, the atmosphere of a film set is characterized by the mood of a somber, suffering artist who takes his work (and himself) far too seriously. When Nichols helmed this production, his skillful poise, relaxed confidence and youthful exuberance no doubt had an effect on workplace morale. Little wonder the film remains a joy to watch, even if it hasn't aged well.

Midnight Cowboy - Continuing on my Hoffman streak, I first saw this movie in the summer of 1995, shortly after I completed my junior year of high school. In an echo of my experience watching The Graduate, I was open-mouthed with amazement from beginning to end. Never before had I seen a movie edited the way Cowboy was cut. The nightmarish flashback sequences still pack a punch and the montages made me gape in amazement at the power of the human imagination. John Barry's score, polished to perfection by Toots Thielemans' plaintive harmonica, captured the essence of big city loneliness and broken dreams. With his heartbreaking portrayal of crippled con man Ratzo Rizzo, Hoffman blew me away. This film came at the height of his late-sixties hot streak, and after viewing his body of work from that time on, one wonders, "Is there anything this man CAN'T play?" To say that the film stayed with me for days afterward would be a gross understatement. How badly I wanted to go out and make a movie just so I could experiment with editing rhythms the same way John Schlesinger did. In spite of the movie's unflinching portrayal of The Big Apple's gritty underbelly, I couldn't wait to visit the city that never sleeps. My exposure to Midnight Cowboy, Taxi Driver, the works of Woody Allen, and countless other films painted a romantic portrait of a city that beckoned for my presence. When I paid my overdue virgin visit at the age of 27, the first step I took onto Manhattan pavement from the airport bus felt like I had reconnected with a missing piece of my soul.

The Virgin Spring - Ingmar Bergman's Oscar-winning drama is the first landmark foreign film I remember seeing. I saw this movie as a college freshman eager to hunt down any gem within reach. When not in class, I worked as a clerk at Hollywood Video, a job that allowed me a free rental for every completed shift. Night after night, I found myself wandering toward the Foreign Film section. Though the selection was paltry, I derived the most from my ad hoc education in the works of Kurosawa, Fellini, Wenders, Antonioni, Truffaut, and Bergman. This film had me hooked from its first image of a woman stoking a fire with three deep breaths. Thirteenth century Sweden was an environment with which I was completely unfamiliar and Bergman's adaptation of Ulla Isaksson's ballad brought it sharply into focus. In the hands of a lesser artist, the trial of a dour Lutheran household for whom God remains silent would have been frightfully dull. Rendered by Bergman, the story absorbed me, even the frightening rape scene. Spring served as the perfect introduction to the oeuvre that brought us The Seventh Seal, Smiles of a Summer Night, and Wild Strawberries. Thanks largely to the visual artistry of Sven Nykvist, The Virgin Spring achieves a stark beauty that, like many other Bergman works, haunts me in a way no other cinematographer can. Like Vittorio Storaro, the man does not shoot subjects; he paints with light. That Bergman was able to achieve a glow to this film nearly five decades ago that remains pristine to this day is nothing short of remarkable. From the night of that revelatory first viewing, I have regarded Ingmar Bergman as one leg of a worldly tripod who, alongside Federico Fellini and Akira Kurosawa, will always stand as a giant in the realm of cinema.

The French Connection - I've always been a sucker for a good action flick. The pulse-pounding stimulus of gun fights, car chases, hand-to-hand combat, and massive explosions rarely fails to hook me. Throw the cop-robber dynamic into the mix and the result is a winning combination. That was precisely the impression William Friedkin's Oscar-winning crime yarn left upon my first viewing weeks before I began my senior year of high school. From the opening fade-in of the French café to the closing shootout in the abandoned factory, I sat galvanized at the edge of my seat. Once again, I encountered a film where all areas of production clicked into place like gears in a Swiss clock. The performances are among some of the most realistic I've ever seen, the editing is breathless (especially during the famous train chase scene), Don Ellis' score fits the action like a tailored suit, and the writing crackles with streetwise attitude. As soon as I finished watching this movie, I returned it to the video store, drove to the mall, and bought a copy for myself. Since that day, I estimate that I've seen Connection fifteen times -- and each viewing brings a new discovery. (e.g., the action jumps back and forth between the heroes and villains comic book style, the editing is comprised totally of cuts save for the opening fade-up of Marseilles, the direction of movement flips many times during chase scenes to suggest how difficult it is to catch a criminal) As a side note, any friend who visited my house that year could not leave until they watched the famous chase scene. My attempt to screen the sequence at a cast party for a school play I directed was met with a scattered chorus of "Oh God, not again".

Yojimbo - This title shares a ranking with Ikiru as my favorite Kurosawa film. The story brims with despicable characters, deception, double-crosses, prostitution, severed appendages, murderous misdeeds, and close-ups of blood among other unpleasantries...and yet, it succeeds as a comedy. I first saw Yojimbo in early 1997, one of the many free rentals I enjoyed while working at Hollywood Video. Toshiro Mifune cast an immortal prototype of the laconic assassin for hire that Clint Eastwood would later use as inspiration for his "Man with No Name" hero of the spaghetti westerns that catapulted him to international fame. What struck me about the character of Sanjuro is that he possessed all of the fighting skills of a samurai warrior, but none of the Bushido values of compassion, loyalty, or humility. In spite of his arrogance, I couldn't help but be drawn to his dangerous, rugged charisma. The final duel between Mifune and Tatsuya Nakadai's pistol-packing villain is every bit as riveting on the tenth viewing as it is when seen for the first time. One would be hard-pressed to find a sequence where the music blends so perfectly with the action on screen.

Citizen Kane - I first saw the film often hailed as the greatest ever made in June of 1996, one week before graduating high school. Early in the day of that memorable viewing, I submitted the final draft of my high school senior project research paper, "A Brief History of American Film". To reward myself, I rented this film from Blockbuster...and to this day, I cannot believe that I omitted this indispensable cinematic landmark -- not to mention the career of its genius creator -- from my studies! Having been exposed to years of media parody growing up, the secret of Rosebud had already been spoiled for me (just as the shocking surprise at the end of Psycho had already been spoiled for me), and the film still astounded me. The techniques that directors use left and right today (sets with ceilings, deep-focus photography, the synchronization of rooms lighting up with orchestral cues) all seemed new, and that night when I watched Kane for the first time, I felt like I was seeing those "cine-tricks" for the first time. Whenever I watch the film, a part of me temporarily transforms into a giddy 1941 filmgoer witnessing creative barriers being broken.

Cool Hand Luke - Here is yet another entry from that seminal spring of 1995. I first saw this film broadcast on TBS, and then ran straight to the mall to buy my own copy. I was going through a non-conformist period of sorts, and found an instant hero in Paul Newman's Christ-like chain gang prisoner. Readers who recall my obituary post for Newman know that this film contains, in my opinion, the best performance he ever gave. For me, Cool Hand Luke proves a first-class example of a gifted actor vanishing completely into a character. The care-free gait in his walk, the easygoing rhythm of his speech, the way he jumps out of bed, the way he stares at the ground, and that irresistible smile all combine to form a complete character painted with masterful brushstrokes. Newman's rendering of the Virgin Mary song never fails to get me every time I see it, even after all these years.

Vertigo - I first saw this film during my freshman year of college in the fall of 1996, and it still irks me that the mood wasn't right. It was late at night, I was exhausted from a full day of studies and running, and I kept nodding off to sleep. One could liken the experience to going on a first date with a beautiful woman while fighting a merciless migraine. Too much of the movie simply flew by me. Then, I saw the film for the second time in my mentor's Hitchcock/Spielberg seminar in spring of 1998 and the experience wiped my prior viewing from memory. Though the room was a bit chilly and the soundtrack was muddied from age, the environment could not have provided me with a better opportunity to absorb the myriad subtleties of Alfred Hitchcock's quintessential portrait of obsession. The brilliant use of psychological color, the haunting score by Bernard Herrmann, and Jimmy Stewart's incredible performance as the tortured detective (the best he ever gave under Hitchcock's direction) all contribute to the film's haunting effect on me. For the record, Vertigo tops my list of Hitchcock films as my personal favorite, with North By Northwest and Psycho trailing close behind.

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest - Though I first saw Milos Forman's adaptation of Ken Kesey's novel in its entirety in (you guessed it) the spring of 1995, I had seen bits and pieces of it as a kid whenever it was on TV. My folks made a point of watching it every Easter without fail. Just as I took an instant liking to Cool Hand Luke, I admired the cool, smiling confidence in R.P. McMurphy. I often adopted shades of this persona to hide behind at school whenever I was forced to cope with stress, laugh off criticism, or deal with bullies. Nicholson's performance aside, Cuckoo's Nest contains plenty of memorable moments that translate to movie magic. Among them, McMurphy's color commentary of a baseball game played on a darkened television moves the rebel in all of us who dreams of disrupting the abusive power structure of the Establishment. It is a simple scene that illustrates how a different point of view can open people's minds to new discoveries, and reminds us that those who dance are considered insane by those who cannot hear the music. Then, there is the staggering finale that begins on a note of tragedy and ends on a note of triumph. No matter how many times I promise myself in advance to keep it together when this scene plays, I always break down in tears. One would have to be made of stone to not be moved by the sight of a mercy killing followed by a daring escape. What One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest says to me is that there's a little bit of Randle McMurphy in all of us. It's a timeless story that inspires cowards to find courage they never knew they had, it makes burned-out workers quit their miserable jobs, and it turns apolitical citizens into activists. In short, one for the ages.

There you have it, dear readers. You have just caught a glimpse of a man who not only watches movies and not only reads movies, but consumes and enjoys movies as often as possible. Each of these movies kindles the curious adventurer in me. I hope I never lose that passion that makes my food taste better, the air sweeter, and the seventh art a part of my life. Now it's your turn to reveal what moves you up on that screen. What are your Epiphany films? As always, leave your comments and I'll be back soon with another treasure chest from my youth.

Oscar Broadens Top Field to Ten Contenders

2009-06-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

The Academy Awards are getting an overhaul. In the most surprising news to come from Oscar headquarters in years, the Best Picture category is being expanded from five to ten nominees. This decision marks the first time that more than five Best Picture nominees will be recognized since 1943, the year Casablanca won the top honor. Read the bombshell news story here.

Although this comes as good news for producers, directors, and other artists involved with Oscar bait films due for release this fall, the change presents a number of potential problems. For one, doubling the number of nominees to present will increase the already long running time of the telecast. Since the Oscar ceremony is no stranger to bad ratings, this might not be a wise decision from a fiscal standpoint. Oscar organizers have to remember that American audiences have some of the shortest attention spans in the world. If a program fails to provide a consistent source of audiovisual stimulation, the viewer will tune out.

One does not have to be a Hollywood insider to know the reason behind the expansion. When the nominations for the 81st Academy Awards were announced five months ago, many awards trackers, among whom I count myself, found the following words escaping our lips when reviewing the five films nominated for Best Picture of the Year: "Where the hell is The Dark Knight?" Kevin Smith hit the nail on the head when he called the picture "The Godfather, Part II of comic book films" last summer. Of course, I made my displeasure at the Academy's elitist omission known shortly after the nominations were announced. For The Dark Knight and other great films released last year, the double-up comes as too little, too late.

This brings up another problem. 2008 was a sensational year for cinema. An output that strong in both quality and quantity does not occur every year. Should the worst case scenario unfold one year whereby five decent films stand out from an abysmal crowd as the best of the worst, would that leave the Academy to scrape the bottom of the barrel for five stinkers to fill the vacancies? On the other hand, suppose the world sees another banner year for movies in the near future. With the roster bumped up to ten competitors, can we really count on the Academy to find at least one film viewers would tune in to see win a few statuettes on show night? Ideally, the widening of the competitive margin would spur Academy voters to drop their snooty sensibility like a hot rock and recognize top grossing films that deserve to be in the running. I shudder to think that the Academy would deliberately omit another Dark Knight from the top category with the number of entries now at ten.

Nominating films for major awards is a balancing act. While it does require a discerning mind to point out efforts worthy of accolades, ("best" is the first word of every category for a reason) there is such a thing as taking that mindset too far. To dismissively regard all popular movies as those pictures simply because they perform well at the box office is a tremendous mistake. Even if the Academy is represented by a group of voters whose tastes do not uniformly align, the one fact on which they must all agree is that it is possible to make blockbusters with artistic merit. It's been done before and it will certainly by done again. In my lifetime, there has been no stronger exemplification of this rule than Raiders of the Lost Ark.

With this, I hereby enforce an ad hoc policy on the Academy: from this day forward, said voters must nominate no fewer than one top grossing film for Best Picture every year. It's only fair, it will bring good ratings, and it will help repair your reputation as an out-of-touch country club who consistently alientates the public. You've got your work ahead of you, AMPAS. If you can't find one popular movie to include among the top contenders from here on out, the rest of us will know you haven't got much sense.

Here is where I'll submerge my impulse to expound what the change will mean for other categories and will instead open discussion for your thoughts. What do you think about the Academy widening the Best Picture category? Do you think it's a wise decision or a foolish one? Had the Academy made this decision last year, do think The Dark Knight would have been nominated for Best Picture? Whatever your thoughts, feel free to sound off.

Au Revoir, Monsieur Jarre

2009-04-04T10:53:00.000-07:00

1924-2009

The world of cinema has lost one of its most gifted composers. Maurice Jarre, the man who brought us the timeless melodies of many classic movies, died last Saturday at the age of 84. Dennis McLellan of The Los Angeles Times has a fitting obituary here.

Rather than using the written word to recall Jarre's life, this blogger prefers the only substitute that could ever summate the beauty and genius of his legacy, the music itself. Constantin Stanislavski once said that music is the only way to the heart. A simple listen to the creations of Maurice Jarre affirms the late Russian theorist's observation.

To close this tribute, I leave you with a sample of Monsieur Jarre at work. Here are a series of excerpts from the scores of Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, and Jacob's Ladder. Good night, Maestro.

End of the Road for the Oscars

2009-04-01T16:17:00.000-07:00

1927-2009

In the saddest and most shocking movie news item of the century, AMPAS president Sid Ganis held a press conference this morning in Los Angeles, where he announced that there will be no more Academy Awards ceremonies once his term ends this September. Read the breaking news story here.

Movies à la Carte

2009-03-08T14:50:00.000-07:00

Dinner and a movie has long been a popular way for people to spend a night out. For as long as movies have been around, millions of Americans have enjoyed countless evenings bookending these two dependable sources of recreation. However, a recent article in the city life section of MSN reports that a number of establishments across the country are starting to combine the two customs.

Let me begin by stating for the record that I am as opposed to this ritual as an old school film fan can get. This revelation no doubt comes as a surprise to many who know me. Since I am of Italian ancestry, one would think that my passions for food and movies would naturally merge. But alas, that is not the case. Granted, I do enjoy each of these activities, but separately. I'll elaborate on this later, but first I must recount a personal experience.

One Friday night eight years ago, I picked up my then-girlfriend from her apartment to take her out on a date. When we spoke on the phone earlier that day, she mentioned a place she had heard about called The Cinema Grill. This North Seattle establishment had only been in business a short while and had gained notoriety for serving food inside its theaters. Intrigued by the newness of the idea, I went along with her suggestion that we pay the innovative cineplex a visit.

Once inside, we took our seats on padded barstools and placed our orders. While waiting for our food, we talked about how the trend could very well sweep the nation given a few years time. I observed how it makes sense from an efficiency expert's point of view. By eating and seeing a movie in one location, I remarked, the trip to a restaurant beforehand or afterward is rendered unnecessary. People are growing busier with each passing day, and don't have as many discretionary hours as they once did. Thanks to modern technology, our lives have grown so busy that we feel the urge to combine certain activies. We drive while talking on the phone. We listen to life coaching programs on our iPods while exercising. Some of us even practice yoga and pilates while sitting at our computers. Dinner at the cineplex fits right into that multitasking fold.

While opining that those in the raging hormone demographic would no doubt appreciate having more of their evening available for bedroom recreation, the lights went down and the previews began. Our food arrived just as the movie started. Gaping at Guy Pearce's hand shaking a Polaroid picture, I reached for what I thought was a hot wing but instead plucked one of my girlfriend's nachos from her plate. Save for locating the napkin dispenser moments later, my eyes never left the screen.

Though I would later go on to select Memento as my favorite film of 2001, I wondered if dining on sports bar menu items added to my enjoyment of the picture. After giving the matter some thought, I concluded that the food was an unnecessary distraction and that I would have loved my viewing more had I seen it in a regular theater. Never mind the fact that Christopher Nolan's audacious detective story is an elaborately constructed brainteaser that requires the higher-order cognitive processing skills of the smartest viewer. I would take that position even if I had seen The Mummy Returns at The Cinema Grill. If I found the idea exciting going in, I found it obtrusive in retrospect. To me, having dinner in a movie theater was like joining The Century Club: it was an ordeal through which I put myself one time just to say that I did it. I haven't been back since, and I certainly don't plan on returning.

Whenever I dine on a special meal, the only accompaniment I prefer is jazz or classical music playing softly in the background, and even that's optional when I'm in the company of pleasant people. Conversely, I don't always like to eat while watching a movie. Due to my experience at The Cinema Grill, I find food a hindrance to a movie that demands (and deserves) my full attention. As a rule, the only foodstuffs I consume in a movie theater are popcorn and Coca-Cola -- and that's just when I see a summer blockbuster. I don't need chicken wings, fried pickles, miniburgers, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, jalapeño poppers, deli sandwiches, garlic fries, Waldorf salad, quesadillas, babyback ribs, bruschetta, rack of lamb, escargot, foie gras, shrimp toast, filet mignon, lobster tails, cole slaw, claw chowder, a sashimi plate, pączki, semla, strawberry cheesecake, tiramisu bars, flan, zabaglione, pistachio ice cream, or an oil drum full of pilsner to wash it all down. Just give me my popcorn and sugar water and I'm content. Like peanuts and beer at the ballpark, it's a satisfying combination. Anything more is distracting.

Maybe it's my ADD that keeps my mind from functioning on more than one track at a time. One of the best compliments I've ever received came to me during my undergraduate years at Pacific Lutheran University. A fellow student and I were sitting in a coffee shop when she broke her own train of thought to make a personal observation. "Do you know why I like talking to you? It's because you don't listen to people while their speaking. You consider them." After a slight pause, I retorted, "A rare benefit of ADD." She made my day with her words, and I remain flattered by them to this day. She was right. I don't just listen to people, I consider them -- and that goes for pretty much anything. If I'm genuinely in interested in a conversation, an idea, a book, a news article, a painting, a piece of music, or a movie, I give it my full, undivided attention.

Basic business sense dictates that movie theaters cannot survive on the sales of movie tickets alone. Concessions account for the majority of a theater's revenue, and it's been that way for as long as the communal movie house has existed. I realize that peripherals are necessary to the success of any product, but why did the trend have to get so out of hand? Increasing the quality of the movies would seem a viable response to this problem, but it seems that people would rather spend their hard-earned money on a ticket to an abysmal movie coupled with large portions of snack bar offerings than on a decent feature alone. I first saw trouble in River City when theater lobbies expanded their concessions menus to include ice cream, hot dogs, and bulk bin candy stands that allow patrons to load up on sugary vices by the pound. When I first caught sight of those atrocious provisions being cleaned out by a swarm of sweet tooth nursing moviegoers, I asked myself, "Are these people here to see a movie or to pig out on junk food?" To this day, I remain convinced that most people who bring vast quantities of food into a theater are lonely binge eaters who don't care what's on the screen; they just need a series of audiovisual stimuli to keep them company while they gorge themselves on garbage. Theoretically, one could argue that businesses like The Cinema Grill not only attract a classier cross-section of hungry fans but also enable nervous eaters.

The Grand Cinema in Tacoma, Washington has it just right. Their concessions stand serves popcorn with real butter, a handful of brand-name candies, a few fountain drinks, and nothing more. Their lobby radiates an unpretentious warmth and arthouse charm that reminds me of the dignified little theater in The Last Picture Show. It's a noble institution that refuses to be corrupted by the greed-driven, faceless machine of corporate America.

The advent of one-stop shopping clearly has a hand in movie theaters morphing into restaurants. While packaging products and services does have benefits for those on both sides of the cash register, the practice has its fair share of drawbacks. In the personal development audiobook Lead the Field, Earl Nightingale tells the story of an unnamed gas station owner in Arizona who grows his business from a humble truck stop to a multimillion-dollar enterprise. One day, the man saw a customer standing in front of a gas pump waiting for his tank to fill. Seeing the man with money in his pocket and nothing to spend it on gave the resourceful owner an idea. Inside his shop, he installed a refrigerated case of snack foods and beverages that customers could enjoy while pumping their gas. He then added a full service garage that changed oil, rotated tires, and gave tune-ups. Before too long, he started buying the contiguous properties around his original gas station to accommodate his expanding venture. He started selling lottery tickets. He started cashing checks on Friday. Eventually, he began to sell fishing rods, tackle boxes, tools, home improvement supplies, camping equipment, boats, rifles, ammunition, hunting licenses, and opened a photo processing lab.

While the story is an inspiration to any burgeoning entrepreneur, it raises an important question: did anyone remember the original gas station once the bonanza took off? One wonders how many customers walked into the new digs, took a look around, and with a confused expression, asked, "What kind of place is this, anyway?" If theater owners take their cue from the man in Lead the Field, cineplexes will eventually convert to faceless, generic service centers that cram a supermarket, health club, day spa, megachurch, and movie theater all under one roof. If we are to keep the Wal-Mart effect out of movie theaters, we need to remember why they exist in the first place: to specialize in the presentation of feature-length motion pictures. A theater manager's duty should entail keeping the facility clean, well-lit, and comfortable. The utmost care should be taken to ensure that the picture and sound quality of each film are excellent. As well, every customer should be treated courteously.

Another reason I reject this brand of filmgoing on principle stems from the increased potential for noise. It's bad enough that some couples use movie night as their time to vent about their day while letting their unruly kids run amok (and I'm not the least bit averse to shutting them up), but throw food and alcoholic beverages into the mix and the problem gets ten times worse. Some people act like schmucks when they have too much to drink, and these inconsiderate slobs do not belong in a movie theater. Like any other paying customer, the last thing I want is to hear is some fat, belligerent bricklayer sitting right in front of me scream, "YEAH! TAKE YOUR TOP OFF, HONEY! LET'S SEE THEM TITTIES!" before squeezing off a 90-decibel, nosehair-burning, upholstery-ripping, Blazing Saddles campfire scene, Miles Davis high-note fart.

Serving food in a movie theater could also pose a public health hazard. Suppose the movie playing is a comedy and someone starts to laugh just as they swallow a bite of fried chicken. Someone would have to perform the Heimlich maneuver to keep the poor soul from choking to death. Common courtesy dictates that the movie stops, at least until the crisis is averted. By that time, the evening would already be ruined for many viewers. Even if the poor soul lived to tell about his or her ordeal, he or she could sue the theater/restaurant chain and it would be goodbye to combining dinner and a movie. Don't even try to tell me that's not possible in this litigious culture. To avoid the unthinkable, the establishment could make each viewer sign a release form before entering the theater, much like the ones dance clubs hand you at the door on foam party night. Perhaps a flashing red light installed near the screen could warn the audience of a funny scene a few seconds beforehand, but that would take all the fun out of the movie.

One positive aspect of bringing food into a movie theater is that the actors have no idea that the audience is eating. Broadway would never hear of such a custom, much less tolerate it. In the world of the performing arts, live theatre is sacred ground. Many theater companies along the Great White Way (and across the country) enforce strict no eating or drinking policies not only because the artistic director doesn't want any stains on the seats and carpets, but because it's incredibly rude to the actors. One can only imagine how Katharine Hepburn, James Earl Jones, Kevin Spacey, Hugh Jackman, Brian Dennehy, or George C. Scott would react at the discovery of an uncouth audience member snacking on potato chips in the middle of a performance. True, there are such hybrids as cabaret and dinner theater, but the food served at these venues is often meant to distract you from the abysmal quality of the show. I can count on more than one hand the number of nights I've left a dinner theater performance and overheard someone say, "I've seen Oklahoma done better, but that chicken cordon bleu was delicious!"

Dinner theater is every live performer's worst nightmare. Silverware clinks. Lips pop and smack. Waitstaff dart in and out carrying trays. Glass is bound to shatter, which not only makes a distracting noise but also creates a safety hazard for other patrons and actors who use the dining area to enter, exit, and interact with the audience. What's more, there's almost always a conversation going on at every table. Giving a good performance amid this cacophony requires an actor to have the concentration of an ancient Zen master. I query all thespians: would you want to play a love scene opposite a dashing leading man or a ravishing leading lady in Tony & Tina's Wedding, only to have your precious moment of romance interrupted by the deafening belch of an overfed customer? If you want a cinematic example of how unpleasant it can be performing in a public dining area, watch the following scene from Annie Hall. The only thing missing is the flush of a nearby toilet.

For those wondering if there is any hope to be found amid my doom and gloom forecast, be assured. A restaurant attached to the theater just might be the best alternative to simultaneous eating and movie watching. Ideally, the exit doors would be placed so that outgoing foot traffic spills right into its entryway instead of the parking lot or corridor. Picture the exits of Disneyland rides leading straight into the gift shops for a clear idea of the blueprint. No movie theater in the United States is built quite like it (at least as far as I know; leave a comment if I'm wrong) and I think I have the perfect occasion for putting my idea to the test. In three years, Lawrence of Arabia will celebrate its 50th anniversary. The screening could be held at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas. Damascus would seem a more appropriate location, but Sin City is friendly soil. If they're still with us, Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharif could arrive at the premiere on camelback.

After the movie, those in attendance would walk directly from the theater into a five-star restaurant serving a full menu of Middle Eastern cuisine. (Bobby Flay and Gordon Ramsay would jump at that gig in a minute.) Should find yourself crying foul at my idea on the grounds of commercial exploitation, remember that Lawrence of Arabia is a classic. This is the kind of treatment the film deserves. An evening like that would no doubt bring the film a new generation of fans. Besides, discussing a great movie fresh after a viewing among engaging people is so much more enjoyable when done at a restaurant instead of a cramped lobby or coffee shop.

This brings me to my last point, which is also my first point. Movies and food should be consumed -- and digested -- separately, not simultaenously. It's too much for the mind and body to take in all at once. It slows both metabolism and brain function. If you really want to appreciate all a movie has to offer, follow this advice. Work up a good appetite at the theater, then reward yourself with dinner afterward. Good food promotes healthy discussion. The solitude a quiet meal for one provides can be sublime, but dining in groups can be one of life's greatest joys, and it's certainly not meant to be a silent affair. Too much quiet in a dining environment can be awkward, and the tension can ruin the enjoyment of the food. I've always said that if people insisting on remaining silent while dining in groups, then how are they any different than prisoners, pigs, or cattle? If a rich pasta sauce glides across your palate with a seductive blend of flavors, then you have every right to vocalize your pleasure, but only in the right environment. On the other hand, if you find yourself moved by a particular moment in a movie, the best response (with few exceptions) is reverent silence.

I leave you now with a clip from The Last Picture Show. This scene features a small town movie theater that strikes my conservative sensibility as the perfect film viewing environment. Elegiac in its mourning of a tradition -- and an America -- lost to the winds of change, this masterwork certainly qualifies as what Robert Altman would call a sandcastle picture.

'Slumdog' Snags Eight Oscars

2009-02-24T23:28:00.000-08:00

Slumdog Millionaire brought its awards season winning streak to a victorious close by taking home eight Oscars including Best Picture at the 81st Academy Awards. There were no surprise winners of the acting or writing awards, but there were upsets in other categories. For a full list of winners, click here.

Hugh Jackman completed his first stint as Oscar emcee and for his hosting efforts, the man gets nothing short of high marks from me. With weaker talent at the helm, the opening number saluting the five films nominated for Best Picture with makeshift set pieces would have looked silly, amateurish, and downright embarrassing. In Jackman's hands, the show played like a hit Broadway musical. If the anipodean actor's performance is a sample of what's to come -- and he will be back for future Oscar ceremonies; you mark my words -- Mr. Jackman is poised to place himself in the company of Billy Crystal, Bob Hope, and Johnny Carson as a great Academy Awards show host.

The intimate feel of the evening proved a welcome change of scene, as did the return of the podiums. I don't know what imbecile decided to get rid of them 11 years ago, but it just looks and feels awkward to see a winner with no elevated surface on which to set their award in front of them. Anyone who has ever had to speak in public can tell you that the presence of a podium makes a speaking engagement so much easier. Depending on how tall you are, the platform covers as much as half your body and can be useful in concealing notes, deflecting scrutiny, and shielding the speaker from objects thrown by hostile audience members. Everyone who won an Oscar between 1998 and 2008 must have felt so naked standing up there with nothing to lean on. This year's winners were no doubt grateful for the return to form.

Having five previous Oscar winners salute each of the five nominees in every acting category was a wonderful touch. Playing clips of every performance is always thoughtful, but this gesture personalized each nomination. It would have been sublime had Clint Eastwood, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Robert Redford, and Steven Spielberg presented Danny Boyle with the Best Director Oscar.

The most moving moment of the evening came when Heath Ledger was announced as best supporting actor for The Dark Knight. Ledger's was the first posthumous Oscar awarded for acting since Peter Finch won Best Actor for Network. When his father, mother, and sister took to the stage to accept the man's award, I was impressed by their restraint and resilience. All three family members spoke movingly of Ledger's talent, compassion, and dedication to his art while remarkably maintaining their composure. Had Ledger come from an Italian family, his relatives would have jumped and down in their seats, hugged and kissed each other down the aisle, and flooded the stage with tears of pride. Picture a guy like Paul Sorvino taking the stage upon hearing his departed son's name announced as the best supporting actor of the year: (gesturing to the screen upstage) "Look at my beautiful boy. There's my son. (blows a kiss to the screen) All my boy ever wanted to be was an actor." The Ledger family speech was quietly eloquent, and helped to certify the highest acknowledgement a late actor's work can receive.

Dustin Lance Black gave the finest acceptance speech of the evening, in my opinion. Upon winning the original screenplay award for Milk, the openly gay screenwriter fought back tears when speaking of his hope to one day get married. His timely words echoed the struggle for gay citizens to achieve equal rights across the nation, an effort marred by the passing of Proposition 8 in California last November.

Ben Stiller's hilarious parody of Joaquin Phoenix was responsible for the funniest award presentation of the show. His timing, facial expressions, and wandering off to watch footage of the cinematography nominees on the big screen behind him gave proof that his comic skills continually improve over time. It was a far cry from his embarrassing green suit presentation of the Visual Effects Oscar at the 79th Awards.

The biggest surprise of the evening for me was Departures upsetting Waltz with Bashir for the Best Foreign Language Film award. The acclaimed Japanese film about an unemployed cellist who answers an ad for what he believes is a travel agency, but is actually for a funeral home edged out Israel's animated favorite about the 1982 invasion of Lebanon. This was the biggest upset in the foreign language film category since The Lives of Others beat Pan's Labyrinth two years ago. Now that Departures has claimed the first Oscar for Japan since this category was created (three other Japanese films -- Rashomon, Gate of Hell, and Samurai, The Legend of Musashi -- received special honorary awards before the introduction of the best foreign language film category in 1956), director Yojiro Takita may very well be on his way to building a career as great as Kurosawa's.

For the first time in as long as I have been following the Oscars, I had the benefit of seeing three of the five films nominated for Best Animated Short before the show. My first instinct was to go with La Maison en Petit Cubes, but switched my vote after watching Lavatory - Lovestory on Youtube. (So much for that strategy!) This charming little film is an absolute delight and should have won the Oscar. Make time to see it here. Invariably, my predictions for the categories of Best Animated Short, Best Documentary Short, and Best Live Action Short account for my wildest guesses on the ballot. From now on, I'll have to make a point of seeing as many of the nominated films as I can on YouTube. Eventually, the maniac in me will find the time to watch every animated short, documentary short, and live action short that's ever been nominated for an Oscar.

As for my scorecard, I went 14 for 25. My all-time highest score is 20 out of 24 from 2004, the year Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King won Best Picture. My calls were tougher to make this year due to the fact that I (don't come unglued on me) didn't see any of the five films nominated for Best Picture. This was the first time I had gone in that cold for as long as I've been watching the Oscars. Honestly speaking, I'll be the first one to admit that this is inexcusable behavior for a movie blogger to exhibit. If this bothers you, be assured that the moment my schedule and budget allow capacity for regular moviegoing (whenever that may be), this blog will deliver all the benefits of a syndicated movie column. In the meantime, what you see is what you get.

The show was a vast improvement over last year's dull telecast, and the ratings prove it. Of course, if The Dark Knight had been nominated for Best Picture as it should have been, the Nielsen figures would have tied -- if not beaten -- the record for the most watched Oscar telecast in 1998, the year Titanic won Best Picture. Though some of the acceptance speeches were downright boring, the pace never dragged when the performers were in command. If I had to raise one quibble with the show, it would be the fact that the clips from upcoming 2009 movies that played over the end credits did not include scenes from The Road and Ashecliffe.

What were your favorite moments from the show? Would you like to see Hugh Jackman return as host? What changes would you make to the telecast, if any? As always, leave your comments below and speak your mind in kind.

Picking the Winners

2009-02-22T12:28:00.000-08:00

With the start of the 81st Academy Awards just hours away, excitement for Hollywood's biggest night of the year is reaching a fever pitch. Stars will start to make red carpet arrivals any minute now and major news outlets will soon begin their coverage of the grand event. With many changes to the telecast that include the list of presenters being kept top secret for the first time and Hugh Jackman serving his first stint as master of ceremonies, the evening is shaping up to be a show of shows.

Just as I did last year, I will now unveil my predictions for each winner by category.

BEST PICTURE

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

BEST DIRECTOR

David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Gus Van Sant, Milk
Stephen Daldry, The Reader
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

BEST ACTOR

Richard Jenkins, The Visitor
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

BEST ACTRESS

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Angelina Jolie, Changeling
Melissa Leo, Frozen River
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, The Reader

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey, Jr., Tropic Thunder
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Amy Adams, Doubt
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Courtney Hunt, Frozen River
Mike Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky
Martin McDonaugh, In Bruges
Dustin Lance Black, Milk
Andrew Stanton, Jim Reardon, and Pete Docter, Wall-E

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
John Patrick Shanley, Doubt
Peter Morgan, Frost/Nixon
David Hare, The Reader
Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Bolt
Kung Fu Panda
Wall-E

BEST ART DIRECTION

James J. Murakami and Gary Fettis, Changeling
Donald Graham Burt and Victor J. Zolfo, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Nathan Crowley and Peter Lando, The Dark Knight
Michael Carlin and Rebecca Alleway, The Duchess
Kristi Zea and Debra Schutt, Revolutionary Road

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

Tom Stern, Changeling
Claudio Miranda, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Wally Pfister, The Dark Knight
Chris Menges and Roger Deakins, The Reader
Anthony Dod Mantle, Slumdog Millionaire

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

Catherine Martin, Australia
Jacqueline West, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Michael O'Connor, The Duchess
Danny Glicker, Milk
Albert Wolsky, Revolutionary Road

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

The Betrayal (Nerakhoon)
Encounters at the End of the World
The Garden
Man on Wire
Trouble the Water

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT

The Conscience of Nhem En
The Final Inch
Smile Pinki
The Witness - From the Balcony of Room 306

BEST FILM EDITING

Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Lee Smith, The Dark Knight
Mike Hill and Dan Hanley, Frost/Nixon
Elliott Graham, Milk
Chris Dickens, Slumdog Millionaire

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

The Baader Meinhof Complex (Germany)
The Class (France)
Departures (Japan)
Revanche (Austria)
Waltz with Bashir (Israel)

BEST MAKEUP

Greg Cannom, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
John Caglione, Jr. and Conor O'Sullivan, The Dark Knight
Mike Elizalde and Thom Floutz, Hellboy II: The Golden Army

BEST MUSIC (SCORE)

Alexandre Desplat, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
James Newton Howard, Defiance
Danny Elfman, Milk
A.R. Rahman, Slumdog Millionaire
Thomas Newman, Wall-E

BEST MUSIC (SONG)

"Down to Earth" from Wall-E (music by Peter Gabriel and Thomas Newman; lyrics by Peter Gabriel)
"Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire (music by A.R. Rahman; lyrics by Gulzar)
"O Saya" from Slumdog Millionaire (music by A.R. Rahman; lyrics by A.R. Rahman and Maya Arulpragasam)

BEST SHORT FILM (ANIMATED)

La Maison et Petits Cubes
Lavatory - Lovestory
Oktapodi
Presto
This Way Up

BEST SHORT FILM (LIVE ACTION)

Auf Der Strecke (On the Line)
Manon on the Asphalt
New Boy
The Pig
Spielzeugland (Toyland)

BEST SOUND EDITING

Richard King, The Dark Knight
Frank Eulner and Christopher Boyes, Iron Man
Glenn Freemantle and Tom Sayers, Slumdog Millionaire
Ben Burtt and Matthew Wood, Wall-E
Wylie Stateman, Wanted

BEST SOUND MIXING

David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce, and Mark Weingarten, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Lora Hirschberg, Gary Rizzo, and Ed Novick, The Dark Knight
Ian Tapp, Richard Pryke, and Resul Pookutty, Slumdog Millionaire
Tom Myers, Michael Semanick, and Ben Burtt, Wall-E
Chris Jenkins, Frank A. Montaño, and Petr Forejt, Wanted

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

Eric Barba, Steve Preeg, Burt Dalton, and Craig Barron, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Nick Davis, Chris Corbould, Tim Webber, and Paul Franklin, The Dark Knight
John Nelson, Ben Snow, Dan Sudick, and Shane Mahan, Iron Man

That's all you'll be reading from me today. I'll be back tomorrow with a post-show recap. In the meantime, I'll be enjoying a special Oscar dinner prepared by my wife. Each course will pay tribute to the five films nominated for Best Picture: sautéed button mushrooms for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (we'll eat them first and cook them later), East Indian garbanzo beans for Slumdog Millionaire, German potatoes and sauerkraut for The Reader, and frosted cookies for Frost/Nixon, with plenty of Milk to wash it all down.

'Slumdog' and 'Milk' Win WGA Awards

2009-02-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

The fictitious account of an East Indian game show contestant and the true story of a slain gay politician have nabbed top screenplay honors at this year's Writers Guild of America Awards. Simon Beaufoy was honored for his adaptation of best picture favorite Slumdog Millionaire, while Dustin Lance Black won original screenplay honors for Milk. According to Tom O'Neil, Slumdog Millionaire and Milk have the writing Oscars in the bag and I think he's absolutely right. For a complete list of winners at last night's event, click here.

Riot on the Set

2009-02-08T11:33:00.000-08:00

The surfacing of an audio tape featuring Christian Bale's blow-up on the set of Terminator Salvation was the top movie news story last week. Though Bale has since apologized for his actions and several public figures have come to his defense, the story isn't going away anytime soon. Bloggers are criticizing Bale left and right, YouTube is currently bursting with hundreds of amusing remixes poking fun at the actor's tirade, and the incident will certainly return to headlines when Salvation hits theaters this May.

Though the scuffle could have turned out a lot worse (he never physically assaulted anyone), I'm resisting the urge to jump on the mockery bandwagon. Instead, I'm using his outburst as a reminder of colossal Hollywood temper tantrums of bygone years. Here now, for your viewing pleasure, is a list of my top ten movie set meltdowns of all time.

10. They Were Expendable - I start off this list by taking a trip back to the year 1945. America declared victory in World War II, the endearing melodies of big band jazz dominated the radio, and John Ford directed this solid adaptation of William L. White's novel. During a particularly tense day of shooting, Ford heaped a torrent of abuse at star John Wayne. Though Wayne was noticeably agitated, he dared not counterattack for fear of suffering a merciless humiliation in front of the whole set. When Ford noticed Wayne saluting incorrectly, Ford gave him the cruelest admonishment: "For Christ's sake, Duke. If you're gonna salute a man, do it right. Maybe if you'd had the guts to sign up and fight, you'd know that. Now that I think of it, I should've gotten a real veteran to play your part. At least he'd know what he was doing. What do you have to say for yourself now, you goddamn coward?" At that point, Wayne burst into tears and walked off to regain his composure. Seconds later, co-star Robert Montgomery made a beeline for Ford, placed his hands on the armrests of the director's chair, looked the old tyrant in the eye, and said, "Don't you ever talk to Duke like that. You ought to be ashamed." Ford ordered a break, everyone took a breather, and the day's work was finished without any further outbursts. Neither cameras nor microphones captured the incident live, so eyewitness accounts will have to suffice. For a nearly comprehensive portrait of John Ford, which includes his many run-ins with cast, crew members, and studio bosses, I highly recommend Scott Eyman's superb book Print the Legend: The Life and Times of John Ford.

9. Rumor Has It... - Kevin Costner's egotistical antics arguably ruined this not-quite sequel to The Graduate. While the film was shot during the summer of 2004, Costner repeatedly criticized freshman director Ted Griffin for his handling of scene set-ups in front of producer Paula Weinstein. The scuffle came reportedly came to a head when Griffin quietly but firmly told Costner to return to his trailer. Costner shot back, "I will not. Not until you change that lighting set-up like I told you." Overhearing the conflict, co-star Shirley MacLaine told Mena Suvari, "There was once a time actors respected their directors." This prompted an annoyed Costner to shoot back, "You keep out of this!" Best Director Oscar winners like Ron Howard, Robert Redford, and certainly Sir Richard Attenborough would have been more patient and understanding with Griffin. Apparently, Costner thought that he could use his Dances with Wolves Oscar (not to mention his movie star clout) as an excuse to run roughshod over the poor man. Unfortunately, his strategy proved successful, as Griffin was replaced by Rob Reiner and hasn't directed anything since.

8. The Shining - The late Stanley Kubrick is regarded as a demanding perfectionist by those who worked with him. Driven by a mad scientist's desire to craft the perfect film, he pushed his cast and crew to exhaustion and beyond, shooting dozens of takes per scene. Shortly after completing production on Spartacus, Kirk Douglas was asked by a reporter to give a summation of the acclaimed director. Douglas replied, "Stanley is a talented shit." Here, Kubrick loses his patience with Shelley Duvall while filming a tense action sequence in his adaptation of Stephen King's best-selling novel. This is one of the few scuffles included on my list that features the added bonus of video footage. If the fight seems tame, that's because it is -- compared to the next seven.

7. Easy Rider - Principal photography of this counterculture indy classic was anything but a feel-good road trip. While shooting a parade sequence in New Orleans during the spring of 1968, director/star Dennis Hopper regularly blew up at his crew for the crime of making suggestions on how to film certain scenes. Driven by drug-fueled paranoia, Hopper often let loose with extended fits of screaming which included many reminders that "I'M THE FUCKING DIRECTOR!". The original, ad hoc crew who worked on the test shoot captured several of Hopper's hotheaded histrionics on tape. When a proper crew was assembled, Jack Nicholson was brought on board not only to replace Rip Torn in the role of the alcoholic ACLU lawyer, but also to serve as a mediator between Hopper and anyone who triggered his temper. Peter Biskind enjoyably documents Hopper's heated exchanges with his collaborators in his indispensible 1998 read, Easy Riders, Raging Bulls. Here is a clip from Shaking the Cage, the documentary that chronicles the making of the picture, where Peter Fonda recalls a scuffle between Hopper and camera operator Barry Feinstein. (The story begins at 7:42.)

6. Major Dundee - When a production team sets out to make a war movie, the challenge to be met is great. When the studio financing the film allows limited time and money, the pressure to succeed is stifling. When the director hired to keep the production on track happens to be none other than that irascible maverick Sam Peckinpah, tempers are bound to fly. That's precisely what happened on the set of this 1965 Civil War epic when Peckinpah infuriated leading man Charlton Heston. Nearing the end of a difficult day of shooting, a drunken Peckinpah ordered Heston to lead a regiment of Cavalry troops down a hill at a trot. With a precious few minutes of daylight remaining, Heston rallied his fellow actors and followed his direction to a tee. When he reached the bottom of the hill, Peckinpah yelled, "CUT! Goddammit, Chuck! That looked like shit! You came too slow!"
"You told me bring them down at a trot," Heston replied.
"The fuck I did, you goddamned liar," Peckinpah shot back.
Pushed to the brink, Heston snapped, wheeled his horse around, drew his Cavalry saber, and charged at full speed toward Peckinpah. Were it not for the fast-acting camera crane operator who lifted the belligerent filmmaker out of harm's way at the last second, the filmmaker's career could have been brought to an untimely end and would have been given his now-familiar nickname "Bloody Sam" for a different reason. David Weddle briefly recalls this episode in his definitive Sam Peckinpah biography, If They Move...Kill 'Em!

5. The Exorcist - I must confess to an act of cheating when citing this famous adaptation of William Peter Blatty's novel, for its making isn't responsible for one on-set ruckus, but several. In order to create the tense, possessed mood the story required, director William Friedkin did all he could to tyrannize his actors. While filming a scene where Linda Blair slaps Ellen Burstyn so hard that she falls onto her back, Friedkin quietly signalled special effects supervisor Marcel Vercoutere to grab hold of a wire connected to a harness fitted around Burstyn's midriff and yank it as hard as he could. With a thrashing tug, Burstyn flew off her feet, fell onto her coccyx, and screamed in agony. Seeing her face morph grotesquely, Friedkin ordered cinematographer Owen Roizman to zoom in for a close-up. A furious Burstyn then screamed, "Turn off the fucking camera!" (Everything that occurred in the scene up to that point appears in the film.) After admonishing Friedkin for continuing to film the scene instead of calling an ambulance, Burstyn stormed off to her chiropractor to begin treatment for a spinal injury that continues to bother her to this day. There were other instances where Friedkin slapped Father William O'Malley across the face without warning in order to achieve sadness for Jason Miller's death scene, (sorry to spoil the movie if you haven't seen it) discharged various firearms without warning to scare his actors, and expressed his disapproval of composer Lalo Schifrin's score by hurling the reel-to-reel tape recorder into the studio parking lot in a drunken fit of rage before exclaiming, "Get that fuckin' Mexican marimba music outta my movie!" (Schifrin was later replaced by Jack Nitzsche.) Most of these war stories are recalled in Fear of God: The Making of The Exorcist, the documentary made for the 25th anniversary of the film's release. Watch it here.

4. I Heart Huckabees - To say that Lily Tomlin went eye-to-eye with director David O. Russell while shooting this existential detective story would be a gross understatement. When the clip you're about to play made headlines in early 2007, I immediately asked myself whether she always flies off the handle on a movie set or if she saved her wrath especially for Russell. If the former is the case, I would pay top dollar for recovered video footage of Tomlin giving Robert Altman a piece of her mind on the set of Nashville. But I digress. (The footage in question begins 38 seconds into the video.)

3. Terminator Salvation - Claiming the newest entry on the list, here is the inspiration for this crack-up compilation. Christian Bale assails director of photography Shane Hurlbut for committing the unforgivable transgression of walking through his shot. No further setup is necessary. Listen to the full, four-minute rant here:

2. Fitzcarraldo - No list of this kind would be complete without at least one foreign film. Besides, Americans aren't the only ones capable of going completely berserk on a movie set. To prove it, here is the late Klaus Kinski blowing up at fellow cast and crew members during the tension-packed filming of this gripping masterpiece that arguably qualifies as the German equivalent of Apocalypse Now. When characterizing his working relationship with Kinski, director Werner Herzog is quoted as saying, "I had to domesticate the wild beast." If there is any exchange between the two that affirms those words, the following one is it. This clip is taken from Herzog's documentary My Best Fiend.

And finally, the award most unhinged movie set altercation of all time goes to...

1. Maidstone - Norman Mailer directed and starred in this forgettable drama about a famous movie director who makes a quixotic run for president. When the film's production neared completion, co-star Rip Torn expressed his unhappiness with Mailer's interpretation of the story by assaulting him with a hammer. In a move that predated Mike Tyson's disqualification match against Evander Holyfield by 27 years, Mailer retaliated by biting Torn's ear. The most outrageous part of the brawl lies not in the fact that it caused both men to lose a considerable amount of blood, nor in the fact Mailer's terrified wife and children ran in to break up the fight, but in the fact that the entire incident was caught on film by Mailer's crew...and later edited into the final cut of the film. Should you find yourself too cheap and lazy to snag a copy of the film from eBay or Netflix, take comfort, for here is my pick for the most infamous movie set meltdown of all time in its ten-minute entirety:

There are other dust-ups that have gone unmentioned. Among these dishonorable mentions that didn't quite make the list are Alfred Hitchcock calling Kim Novak "a goddamn fucking cow" for not putting forth her best effort on the set of Vertigo, Roman Polanski plucking one of Faye Dunaway's hairs while shooting Chinatown (Dunaway reportedly retaliated by urinating in Polanski's coffee cup) and Billy Wilder lambasting Marilyn Monroe for forgetting her lines on the set of Some Like It Hot.

Which Hollywood altercations are among your favorites? Have you ever worked as a PA on a movie set and borne witness to an ego-driven blow-up that didn't make headlines? Whatever the case, please leave a comment and tell me all about it.

Boyle Brings Home DGA Award

2009-02-01T10:28:00.000-08:00

Slumdog Millionaire helmer Danny Boyle was honored as the best feature film director of 2008 at the 61st Directors Guild of America Awards last night in Los Angeles. This win places Boyle in the front-runner position for the Best Director Oscar, to be awarded three weeks from tonight. To date, the DGA has a 90% accuracy in forecasting the Academy Award winner for Best Director, as the guild has failed to predict the subsequent Oscar winner only six times.

Last night's DGA ceremony also honored the year's best directorial efforts in television, as well as a special honorary lifetime membership for Roger Ebert. Click here for a text of the moving acceptance speech written by Ebert and read by his wife, Chaz. For a complete list of winners, click here.

'Slumdog' Scoops Up Top SAG Award

2009-01-31T16:56:00.001-08:00

The accolades for Slumdog Millionaire show no signs of stopping as the film took home the trophy for Best Motion Picture Ensemble at the 15th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards last Sunday. The L.A. Times has a decent recap here. View the complete list of winners here.

This year's little-film-that-could is expected to win the feature film honor at the 61st Annual Directors Guild of America Awards, to be held tonight at the Hyatt Regency Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles.

'Slumdog' Slams Competition at PGA Awards

2009-01-25T10:06:00.000-08:00

Adding another win to its seemingly unstoppable streak, the uplifting drama Slumdog Millionaire picked up the best picture award at the 20th Annual Producers Guild of America Awards last night. Among other films in competition for the gong were Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Dark Knight, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. See the complete list of winners here.

Chances of Slumdog snagging Best Picture at next month's Academy Awards ceremony have now increased, as 12 of the past 19 winners of the Producers Guild's top prize have gone on to claim the Best Picture Oscar. (For the trivia junkies, those films are: No Country for Old Men, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Chicago, Gladiator, American Beauty, Titanic, The English Patient, Forrest Gump, Schindler's List, The Silence of the Lambs, Dances with Wolves, and Driving Miss Daisy.)

Next up on the awards show schedule is the 15th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards, which airs tonight at 8pm PST on TNT.

Snubs and Other Surprises

2009-01-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

This year's Oscar nominations have revealed a few surprises, to say the least. As announced by current Academy president Sid Ganis and past Oscar winner Forest Whitaker (Best Actor for The Last King of Scotland in 2006) this morning in Los Angeles, the selection of this year's contenders for the highest of all film awards leaves no shortage of dropped jaws and raised eyebrows among film pundits. Roger Ebert has an insightful write-up here. View the complete list of nominees here.

For me, the single biggest shock of the morning is the absence of The Dark Knight from the Best Picture category. This is the most noticeable Best Picture omission I've seen since Dreamgirls was shut out of the top five two years ago. Many had Knight pegged as a shoo-in for the top nod, myself included. Why has the Academy turned up its nose at the best superhero movie to date? It has just as much depth, intelligence, and emotional power as the five films nominated this year. To say that it struck a chord with its audience would be a gross understatement. (Need I mention its staggering performance at the box office?)

If the summer blockbuster factor is their objection, then why did the Academy nominate Raiders of the Lost Ark for Best Picture 27 years ago? Same goes for Jaws, Star Wars, E.T., and Forrest Gump. Do the voting members of the Academy sway closer to the Barnes & Noble crowd than to DC Comics fans? Whatever the reason, the Academy needs to realize that there is such a thing as a masterfully made comic book movie, and The Dark Knight certainly fits that description. If those divinely chosen final arbiters good taste continue their elitist trend of snubbing par excellence popular movies in favor of lukewarm literary adaptations, the Academy will place itself in grave danger of alienating the public -- even more than it already has.

The Best Actor category delivered not one, but two snubs. Leonardo DiCaprio, who gave an acclaimed performance as Kate Winslet's frustrated husband in Revolutionary Road, was overlooked. (Look for him in the running next year for Ashecliffe.) Also ignored was Clint Eastwood's gripping turn as a bigoted Korean War veteran in Gran Torino. Richard Jenkins turned up as a surprise top-of-the-list nominee for his well-received role as a lonely professor whose life is changed when he befriends a pair of illegal immigrants in The Visitor. Jenkins faces strong competition from Frank Langella as the latter half of Frost/Nixon, Sean Penn as a courageous gay city supervisor in Milk, Brad Pitt as a man who grows younger as time passes in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and Mickey Rourke as a middle-aged pro wrestler making a comeback in The Wrestler.

Critical darling Sally Hawkins was MIA on the Best Actress list after winning the Golden Globe for her delightful performance as a vivaciously optimistic schoolteacher in Happy-Go-Lucky. Also missing therein was Kristin Scott Thomas, lauded for her work in I've Loved You So Long. Those who made the cut are Anne Hathaway, clinching her first nod for portraying a recovering drug user preparing to witness Rachel Getting Married; Angelina Jolie, as a distraught single mother who determines to recover her missing son in Changeling; Melissa Leo, as a woman who turns to human smuggling in order to make ends meet in Frozen River; screen veteran Meryl Streep, earning a record-stretching fifteenth acting nomination as a take-no-prisoners mother superior of a Catholic school in Doubt; and Kate Winslet, earning her sixth nomination as a German tram conductor hiding a frightening secret in The Reader. Winslet won the Supporting Actress Golden Globe for this performance and finds herself in the Best Actress category here. Her performance as a disillusioned housewife in 1950s Connecticut in Revolutionary Road was overlooked.

Nowhere to be found among the Best Supporting Actor nominees are Dev Patel, who portrayed the older Jamal in Slumdog Millionaire, and Jason Butler Harner, who received many glowing notices for playing a monstrous child murderer in Changeling. Josh Brolin, nominated for playing disgruntled city employee Dan White in Milk, was the first name announced in this category. He'll be competing with Robert Downey, Jr., who earned his first nomination in 16 years in a hilarious turn as "the dude playin' the dude disguised as another dude" in Tropic Thunder; Philip Seymour Hoffman earned his third nomination in four years as a priest accused of abuse in Doubt; the late Heath Ledger, as criminal mastermind The Joker in The Dark Knight, was nominated exactly one year after being found dead in his Manhattan apartment of an accidental drug overdose; and Michael Shannon, as an institutionalized man who bears witness to a crumbling marriage in Revolutionary Road.

There were no snubs to speak of in the Best Supporting Actress camp. Taraji P. Henson's performance as a kindhearted nursemaid to Benjamin Button came as a surprise, but the remainder of the selections panned out as expected. From the Doubt cast, Amy Adams and Viola Davis were nominated for portraying a naive teacher and a suspicious parish parent, respectively. Penelope Cruz earned her second nomination as a fiery Spanish ex-wife in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. To round out the category, Marisa Tomei was included for her role as an aging stripper in The Wrestler.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button claimed the most nominations with 13, just one nod behind the all-time record held by All About Eve and Titanic. Slumdog Millionaire came in second with ten nominations, followed by The Dark Knight and Milk with eight apiece. Frost/Nixon and The Reader bring up the rear with five nominations each. Though Button leads the pack with the most nominations, Golden Globe winner Slumdog Millionaire is already the odds-on favorite to win Best Picture.

As for other categories, it's too soon to tell who will win. Danny Boyle appears to be the likely winner for Best Director, given his Golden Globe victory last week. He's in like flint if he snags the DGA Award come the 31st. Each of the five directors is nominated for a film in the running for Best Picture. This is the first time this perfect lineup has occurred since 2005. The last time it happened before that was in 1981. (Coincidentally, both years saw a disparity in the awards of Best Director and Best Picture. Warren Beatty won the Best Director Oscar for Reds in 1981, while Chariots of Fire crossed the Best Picture finish line. In 2005, Ang Lee won Best Director for Brokeback Mountain, while Crash claimed an upset Best Picture victory.) Every year since has seen at least one director without a picture among the top five (the kiss of death in that category) and one Best Picture nominee whose director isn't nominated. Last year, for example, Atonement was nominated for Best Picture while its director, Joe Wright, was shut out. Conversely, Julian Schnabel was nominated for directing The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, while the film failed to make a purchase in Best Picture territory.

Traditionally, the Best Actor race comes down to two horses and this year, those horses are Sean Penn and Mickey Rourke. Penn has an advantage over Rourke in that he has four prior nominations (one of which, for 2003's Mystic River, resulted in a win) under his belt, in that Milk is nominated for Best Picture, and in that the passing of Proposition 8 in California gives his performance a timely relevance. Rourke, however, has no prior nominations to his credit and The Wrestler did not make the top five. On the other hand, Rourke recently beat Penn to the Golden Globe for Best Actor and Las Vegas oddsmakers current project Rourke as the winner. Personally, I would love to see Sean Penn collect statuette number two. Rourke's performance is heartbreaking, but to award him an Oscar would put an end to his triumphant comeback just as quickly as it began, thereby reducing his career rejuvenation to a mere flash in the pan. (To interject a non sequitur, nine of the 20 performers nominated this morning -- exactly 45% of the total -- are first-time nominees. Of the 20 actors, three -- Frank Langella, Sean Penn, and Josh Brolin -- are nominated for playing real people.)

The Best Actress category is another tough nut to crack. Kate Winslet seems like the most sensible choice, as this is her sixth nomination and she has yet to win her first Academy Award. Her toughest competition comes from Meryl Streep, who has an almost certain third Oscar in her future.

Best Supporting Actor is by far the easiest race to call, as Heath Ledger is a hands-down lock for the Oscar. Not only does he have unanimous critical praise to his credit, but no other contender in his category can hold a candle to Ledger's insane portrayal of a comic book character that leaves Jack Nicholson's campy mugfest in the dust. Trivia junkies will be quick to point out that Ledger's will be the first acting Oscar awarded posthumously since Peter Finch won Best Actor for Network in 1976.

Best Supporting Actress, at this stage, appears to be a toss-up between Penelope Cruz and Viola Davis. Cruz won the New York Film Critics Circle, Los Angeles Film Critics Circle, and National Board of Review Awards in this category. Plus, she has one previous nomination under her belt. (as Best Actress for 2006's Volver, lest you wonder) Davis, on the other hand, won the runner-up slot in this category from the LAFCC and the Best Breakthrough Performance by an Actress Award from the NBR. What's more, this is only her first nomination and her total screen time is limited to one scene. However, word of mouth suggests that Davis is absolutely riveting and gets maximum mileage out of her role. Besides, limited screen time has not stopped actors from winning Oscars in the past. (e.g., Dame Judi Dench for Shakespeare in Love, Beatrice Straight for Network, Anthony Quinn for Lust for Life) To add, it would be a (pardon the pun) mortal sin to let all four nominated performances from Doubt go unrewarded. If the Academy honors one role from the film, Davis' will be it.

Do you have any sins of omission to share? Who will you be rooting for this year? Care to give me a hard time for my shoddy prognostications? All comments, within reason, are fair game today, especially if you'd like to join me in thanking the Academy for keeping Che off its radar.

Oscar Prognostications 2009

2009-01-21T22:14:00.000-08:00

In seven hours, the 81st Academy Award nominations will be announced at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in Los Angeles. Movie blogs are buzzing with anticipation as to who will make the shortlist in each of the ten categories announced tomorrow morning, and this one is no exception. Here are my predictions for which films, actors, directors, and writers will snag nominations.

BEST PICTURE

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
Milk
Slumdog Millionaire
Wall-E

BEST DIRECTOR

Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Christopher Nolan, The Dark Knight
Gus Van Sant, Milk

BEST ACTOR

Leonardo DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road
Clint Eastwood, Gran Torino
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

BEST ACTRESS

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky
Angelina Jolie, Changeling
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey, Jr., Tropic Thunder
James Franco, Milk
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Amy Adams, Doubt
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler
Kate Winslet, The Reader

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Woody Allen, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Peter Docter and Andrew Stanton, Wall-E
Ben Stiller, Etan Cohen, and Justin Theroux, Tropic Thunder
Dustin Lance Black, Milk
Robert D. Siegel, The Wrestler

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire
Justin Haythe, Revolutionary Road
Peter Morgan, Frost/Nixon
Christopher Nolan, Jonathan Nolan, and David S. Goyer, The Dark Knight
John Patrick Shanley, Doubt

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Bolt
Kung Fu Panda
Wall-E

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

Revanche - (Austria)
The Class - (France)
The Baader Meinhof Complex - (Germany)
Waltz with Bashir - (Israel)
Everlasting Moments - (Sweden)

Look sharp for an Oscar nomination announcement post in the morning, complete with a link to the official web site of the Academy Awards. Sleep fast!

When a Studio Makes the Wrong Call

2009-01-18T12:27:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday night, I was enjoying a round of Wii bowling when my BlackBerry buzzed on my hip. The 617 area code that appeared in my phone's display window gave me pause. "Who's calling me from Boston?," I thought to myself. Out of curiosity, I answered. The man's voice on the other end returned my greeting, identified himself as "John", and then uttered the five words that blast my blood pressure into the red zone whenever I answer my phone: "I'm calling on behalf of".

Dammit! Another stupid telemarketer! Do these people not know how to verify registrations on the Do Not Call List? All this bozo had to do was visit this site, punch in my number, and discover that my cell phone is off limits. Apparently, that was too much work for this imbecile, as he foolishly decided to place the call anyway.

Not even bothering to pause my game, I resisted the urge to lambast him and patiently listened while he pathetically pitched his scripted message. He was quick to point out that "this is not a sales call" (a disingenuous tactic, in my opinion) and went on to explain that Feature Films for Families is releasing an animated version of The Velveteen Rabbit in theaters this spring. Since the studio has a limited marketing budget, the task has fallen on poor John's shoulders to cajole strangers into seeing the film over the phone.

With the nervous tone of voice that only a rookie salesman who knows he is about to be hung up on can convey, John said that he had three quick questions for me. First, he asked me if I enjoyed animated features. I told him yes, I do. Second, he asked if I had seen Wall-E, Bolt, Kung Fu Panda, and Madagascar 2. I replied that I had seen and enjoyed the first and last titles, but have not seen the middle two.

Next, John began a pompous plot description of the film. With my patience vanishing faster than a banana cream pie at Liza Minelli's house, I cut him off mid-sentence.

Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I read the story when I was a kid. You say the film's coming out this spring?

John: Uh-huh. That's right.

Me: Who's the director?

A pregnant pause followed.

John: I'm not...I don't...I'm sorry, could you repeat that?

Me: I asked you, who's the director? You know what a director is, don't you? It's the person who makes the majority of creative decisions on a film, says "lights, camera, action", sometimes wears a beret...ring any bells?

John: Gee, you know, I don't have that information in front of me. You see, I'm in training right now --

Me: And boy, does it show.

John: But Feature Films for Families is the producing company and they're dedicated providing quality, moral entertainment that strengthens the values of --

I'd had enough. I told John to take my number off his list and to never call me again. I could have cited the fact that no fewer than 25% of American moviegoers attend their local cinemas because of certain directors, but I didn't want to make him feel any worse than he already did. Instead, I simply hung up and proceeded to bowl a strike in the ninth frame.

Later that night, my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to read up on the company. FFFF was founded in 1988 by Forrest S. Baker III, a BYU graduate who created the Interstate Commerce Trucking Advisory Corporation, Inc. four years prior. You can see the connection, I'm sure. Just as serving as the Judges and Stewards Commissioner for the International Arabian Horse Association no doubt provided the ideal training ground for Michael Brown to lead FEMA, working in the trucking industry no doubt gave Mr. Baker an intimate understanding of the movie business.

Now, why am I getting on Baker's case? Because he is the CEO of the company. I'm not saying that he came up with the idea to telemarket The Velveteen Rabbit, but the fact that FFFF employs at least one person to indiscriminately call people and entice them to attend a movie proves that he authorized this decision. Every leader, be they a police chief, a school principal, or the President of the United States, must be prepared to account for 100% of what happens on his or her watch. If he expects his studio to gain sturdy footing, Baker needs to not only admit that telemarketing an upcoming movie is a bad idea, but also agree to cease doing so immediately.

Besides their financial limitations, one can only guess as to why FFFF avoided more traditional -- and more effective -- marketing methods. Perhaps the executives objected to the notion of creating trailers, printing posters, and broadcasting radio ads when gathered for a meeting. "That costs too much. Besides, that's what the immoral studios do. We need to take a different approach. I know! How about telemarketing? Perfect!"

Just so there's no doubt, confusion, or misunderstanding about what I want to say, my goal here is not to smear Forrest Baker or anyone employed with Feature Films for Families. Mr. Baker strikes me as a decent, friendly, and intelligent man with firm convictions. Fundamentally, I agree with him that the vast majority of American cinematic output is garbage. As I've said many times in the past, if the total amount of movies released in the United States every year were boiled down to ten features, one would be an Oscar-winning classic, another would be a midrange popcorn blockbuster, and the remaining eight would be unwatchable crap.

Where I disagree with Baker is on the point that movie studios have a moral obligation to create entertainment that provides good values for one's family. Don't get me wrong. Family movie outings taken to see classics like E.T., Bambi, and Pinocchio (among others) create warm, endearing memories and are essential to the moviegoing experience. Conversely, movies like Death Race, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and the Saw series are not exactly conducive to special moments shared between parents and children. Now that I've said that, I must state my case. Color me out of touch with reality, but if you're relying on pop music, movies, and television shows to provide values for you and your loved ones, you don't deserve to be a parent. Promoting good values is not Hollywood's job. It's yours. If you share an address with at least one child and you're not making a diligent effort to instill the virtues of critical thinking, respect, hard work, personal responsibility and the other values that build great civilizations, there is no amount of family friendly entertainment in the world that make up for your negligence. I could make a reference to an excerpt from Michael Medved's bestselling book Hollywood vs. America where he compares the "if you don't like offensive movies, don't watch them" argument to someone saying "if you don't like the smog, don't breathe", but I'll save that for another time.

Feature Films for Families may mean well, but they had better get hip to the times and realize that no one is interested in being bothered to do anything, be it refinancing their mortgage, consolidating their debts, or going to see a movie, by some headset-wearing troll in a cubicle. In all honesty, this techqniue had the direct opposite of the desired effect on me. It dissuaded me from seeing the movie.

Have you been solicited by Feature Films for Families? Do you know of anyone who has? If so, leave a comment below and tell me all about it. In the meantime, I shall return to my Wii in hopes of enjoying a competitive round of bowling; only this time, I'm leaving my BlackBerry on my desk.

'Slumdog' Sweeps the Globes

2009-01-18T10:27:00.000-08:00

Slumdog Millionaire was the movie of the night at last Sunday's Golden Globe Awards. The picture pulled a clean sweep, claiming wins in each of the four categories for which it was nominated, including Best Picture of the Year. This showing places Slumdog in front runner position for the top prize at this year's Academy Awards.

There were few surprises at last week's awards. Mickey Rourke claimed an upset victory over Sean Penn (nominated for Milk) as Best Actor in a Drama for The Wrestler. The most jaw-dropping moment came when Kate Winslet made Golden Globe history by winning both acting prizes for which she was nominated. Collecting her Best Supporting Actress accolade for The Reader, the British actress quipped, "I have a habit of not winning things." She later claimed the Best Actress in a Drama Award for Revolutionary Road.

Demi Moore delivered the emotional high point of the ceremony when she announced Heath Ledger as Best Supporting Actor for his acclaimed role as The Joker in The Dark Knight. Director Christopher Nolan took to the stage to accept the award as the audience rose to its feet for a standing ovation. After thanking the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, Nolan said that he felt "an awful mixture of sadness and incredible pride." A clip of Ledger's performance played on a projection screen in rememberance of the late actor.

In an honor carried over from last year's cancelled ceremony, Steven Spielberg was presented with the Cecil B. DeMille Award for "outstanding contributions to the entertainment field". After a heartfelt introduction given by old friend and fellow director Martin Scorsese, Spielberg paid tribute to the name for whom the award is named. Recounting the time his father took him to see The Greatest Show on Earth in 1952, Spielberg compared the path of his career to recreating the film's astounding train crash scene in his living room as a boy.

"I think what was on my mind when I was risking losing my Lionel train set was me thinking, 'Am I going to get away with this?' That anxiety has been haunting me throughout my entire movie career. Whenever I've tried to tell a risky story, whether it's about sharks or dinosaurs or about aliens or about history, I'll always be thinking, 'Am I going to get away with this?'"

The HFPA's official website has a complete list of winners here.

Gearing Up for the Globes

2009-01-11T15:36:00.000-08:00

Tonight, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association honors the best achievements in film and television at the 66th annual Golden Globe Awards. Broadcast live from the Beverly Hilton Hotel, the upcoming ceremony will be a return to traditional festivities after last year's writers strike led to the 65th Awards being relegated to a half-hour press conference. The atmosphere is pure excitement, as nominees have already begun to appear on the red carpet.

A simple glance at this year's list of nominees proves that 2008 was a stellar year for cinema. Though Hollywood will never duplicate, much less surpass, 1939 in terms of sheer greatness, last year brought some of the most compelling, humorous, and inspiring films of the decade.

Among those nominated in the Best Dramatic Film category are: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, adapted from an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story about a man who ages in reverse; Frost/Nixon, Ron Howard's gripping recreation of David Frost's televised 1977 interviews with the titular former president; The Reader, an adaptation of Bernard Schlink's novel; Revolutionary Road, which chronicles the troubled marriage of Frank and April Wheeler (played Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, in their first on-screen pairing since Titanic) in 1950s Connecticut; and Slumdog Millionaire, the acclaimed story of a Mumbai man who wins the Hindi edition of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, only to be accused of cheating thereafter. Button, Frost/Nixon, and Doubt share a three-way tie for the most nominations at five apiece.

Though Slumdog Millionaire is only nominated in four categories, it could very well pull a clean sweep tonight. Since I blogged about the film winning the top prize at the Toronto International Film Festival back in September, Slumdog Millionaire has steadily gathered awards season momentum, with its most recent set of accolades coming last Thursday at the 14th Annual Critics Choice Awards. Last year's terrorist attacks in Mumbai also brought the film recognition, albeit unforeseen. If Slumdog Millionaire is selected for the top award tonight, the win will thrust the film into the front runner position for Best Picture at the 81st Academy Awards. (East Indian culture may very well see a surge in popularity in America.)

As for my predictions in each category, here they are:

Best Picture - Drama: Slumdog Millionaire
Best Actress - Drama: Meryl Streep, Doubt
Best Actor - Drama: Sean Penn, Milk
Best Picture - Comedy/Musical: In Bruges
Best Actress - Comedy/Musical: Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky
Best Actor - Comedy/Musical: Colin Farrell, In Bruges
Best Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Best Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Best Animated Feature Film: Wall-E
Best Foreign Language Film: Waltz With Bashir
Best Director: Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
Best Screenplay: Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Score: A.R. Rahman, Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Song: "Down to Earth" by Peter Gabriel and Thomas Newman, Wall-E
Best Television Series - Drama: Mad Men
Best Actress, TV Series - Drama: January Jones, Mad Men
Best Actor, TV Series - Drama: Jon Hamm, Mad Men
Best Television Series - Comedy/Musical: 30 Rock
Best Actress, TV Series - Comedy/Musical: Tina Fey, 30 Rock
Best Actor, TV Series - Comedy/Musical: Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock
Best Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television: John Adams
Best Actress in a Mini-Series or TVM: Laura Linney, John Adams
Best Actor in a Mini-Series or TVM: Paul Giamatti, John Adams
Best Supporting Actress in a Mini-Series or TVM: Laura Dern, Recount
Best Supporting Actor in a Mini-Series or TVM: Tom Wilkinson, John Adams

Who do you think take home a Golden Globe tonight? Leave your predictions in a comment below. Look sharp for a recap post tomorrow.

Farewell to an Icon

2008-10-04T16:24:00.001-07:00

When Jamie Foxx appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show in October of 2004, he recalled his experience shooting Collateral earlier that year. Though Foxx had worked with big name stars like Will Smith and Al Pacino before, working alongside Tom Cruise was no less daunting. While filming a particularly difficult scene, Cruise sensed that Foxx was getting down on himself and took him aside. "Don't worry about getting it right the first time," he said. "If you feel an instinct, follow through on it. If it works, we'll keep it. If not, try again. Just trust yourself and go for it." As soon as he heard those words, Jamie's tension left him and he found what Dustin Hoffman calls the rhythm of the character. Hit by a thunderbolt of inspiration, Foxx got out of his own way and amazed everyone else on the set with the dynamics he brought to every take.

At the end of this breakthrough shooting day, Foxx approached Cruise and thanked him for the advice. Curious, he asked Cruise why he thought to extend him such consideration. Smiling fondly, Cruise replied, "About 20 years ago, Paul Newman told me the same thing while we were making The Color of Money. One day, you're going to work with an actor who needs a little help. When you do, remember to pass it on."

It is a testament to Paul Newman's generosity that the tradition has stuck. Newman died at the age of 83 on September 26th at his home in Westport, Connecticut, after a valiant battle with lung cancer. He leaves a legacy of more than 50 films and paramount contributions to the theater, politics, and charity.

After Navy service in World War II, he studied economics at Kenyon College before switching his academic emphasis to speech. Summer stock performances followed, and after completing drama studies at Yale, he auditioned for and was accepted to the training ground for the finest acting talent of his generation, the Actors Studio. Success on Broadway followed, and it wasn't long before he pointed his career west to Hollywood.

His film debut came with 1954's The Silver Chalice, a poorly received costume drama based on Thomas B. Costain's novel. Ashamed of his performance, Newman would go on to call the film "the worst motion picture produced during the 1950s". (He later took out a full-page ad in The Los Angeles Times apologizing for appearing in the film when it was broadcast on television in 1966.) He quickly established himself as a formidable leading man, however, in Somebody Up There Likes Me, a biopic based on the life of middleweight boxing champion Rocky Graziano.

In 1958, he earned his first of nine competitive acting Oscar nominations for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Cast opposite a radiant Elizabeth Taylor in a solid production of Tennessee Williams' Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Newman brought a brooding intensity, smoldering sexuality, and emotional electricity to his role as the alcoholic former football star Brick Pollitt. Though the screenwriters were forced to tone down some of the controversial elements of Williams' play -- mainly, Brick's homosexuality -- Newman etched a portrayal that stands alongside Brando's best work as Method acting at its finest.

A second Oscar nomination came in 1961 for his fine-tuned work as the scheming pool shark Eddie Felson in The Hustler. On a hot streak, Newman became one of the most in-demand actors of the day, appearing in such hits as Exodus, Paris Blues, and Sweet Bird of Youth. The success continued with his most critically praised performance up to that time in Hud. The story of a callous, womanizing son of a Texas cattle rancher adapted from Larry McMurtry's novel Horseman, Pass By brought him his third Oscar nomination in five years.

Then in 1967, Newman gave what many consider the finest performance of his career in Cool Hand Luke. Portraying a World War II veteran sentenced to hard labor on a chain gang, he solidified his screen persona as the consummate antihero and won a new generation of fans with the classic line of dialogue, "What we've got here is a failure to communicate." It was that most inspired class of acting, that which sees the actor completely vanishing within the character. The role would bring him a fourth Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

1968 found Newman venturing behind the camera for the first of five time with Rachel, Rachel. Working from an adaptation of Margaret Laurence's novel -- and with wife Joanne Woodward in the lead role -- Newman lovingly brought the story of a 35-year-old schoolteacher living with her mother to the screen. Critics were unanimous in their praise of Newman's first outing behind the camera. Though he was honored by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association with a Golden Globe for Best Director, he fell short of a directing nomination with the Academy but did snag a nod for producing. Woodward was also nominated for Best Actress, but neither won.

After appearing in Hombre, Winning (the film responsible for his love of auto racing), and The Secret of Harry Frigg, Newman found his biggest commercial success -- along with the beginning of a fruitful collaboration and treasured friendship with Robert Redford -- in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid in 1969. Like Bonnie and Clyde before it, the picture painted a sympathetic portrait of two legendary outlaws as a timely statement against the establishment. Due to the beautiful location photography, the catchy contemporary music, and the unbeatable chemistry between the two leads, the film went on to gross over $100 million worldwide and earned nine Academy Award nominations, four of which resulted in wins. Though Newman was overlooked, his performance as the idealistic Butch Cassidy remains a quintessential entry in his canon.

The 1970s saw Newman on a commercial hot streak with him taking roles in such box office hits as The Towering Inferno, The Drowning Pool (a reprise of his private eye role in Harper), Slap Shot, and The Sting, his second and final collaboration with Redford. The hugely popular story of two con artists caught up in a high-stakes card game in Depression era Chicago won seven Academy Awards including Best Picture of 1973. Though Newman again found himself omitted from the Best Actor shortlist, his status as a major star continued to grow.

After earning a fifth Academy Award nomination for playing a wrongly investigated liquor distributor in Absence of Malice, Newman found the perfect career transitional role in Sidney Lumet's The Verdict. Playing an alcoholic Boston attorney whose best years are behind him, Newman gave what many critics consider the finest performance of his career in a riveting story of personal and professional redemption. Come awards season, he found himself in the running for the Best Actor prize for the sixth time, but lost to Ben Kingsley for Gandhi.

Then in 1986, 25 years after he first played Eddie Felson, Newman returned to the screen as the fast-talking pool pro in The Color of Money. Directed by Martin Scorsese, the film dovetailed seamlessly with The Hustler, thanks to a streetwise screenplay by Richard Price and the wise casting of Tom Cruise as a rising star on the billiards circuit. Though critical reception to the film was mixed, Newman's performance was singled out as the shining centerpiece of a mediocre production. The Academy agreed, and after receiving a lucky seventh nomination for Best Actor, Paul finally won his overdue trophy. He later admitted that he'd stopped caring about winning an Oscar, comparing the effort to spending years pursuing a beautiful woman. Joking to the press, he quipped, "Finally, she relents and you say, 'I'm terribly sorry. I'm tired.'"

Performances in Fat Man and Little Boy and Blaze (both 1989) followed, as well as a surprisingly out-of-canvas turn as the starchy patriarch in Merchant and Ivory's adaptation of Mr. & Mrs. Bridge. Though overshadowed by wife and costar Woodward, he brought a stern restraint to his work that was unlike anything he had ever revealed before. Four years later, he teamed with Robert Benton for Nobody's Fool, a masterfully drawn character study about a man who has made a lifetime of bad decisions. In the leading role of Sully Sullivan, Newman rendered a textbook definition of acting subtlety and earned his ninth Academy Award nomination in the process.

Maintaining a steady work load in his seventies, he turned in solid work in the mediocre vehicles Twilight, Message in a Bottle, and Where the Money Is before snagging a plum supporting role opposite Tom Hanks in 2002's Road to Perdition. As elderly Depression era crime boss John Rooney, Newman blended the fiery passion of his early work with the restraint of age for a consummate final screen appearance. For his efforts, he received his tenth Oscar nomination.

With his last film behind him, Newman brought his career to a dignified close with television work: playing the stage manager in Our Town for Showtime in 2003 and portraying Ed Harris' cantankerous father in Empire Falls for HBO in 2005, winning the Emmy for the latter. The following year, he provided the voice of Doc Hudson in the Disney Pixar animated feature Cars.

When visited from beginning to end, Paul Newman's career resembles a museum of classic paintings. His approach was refined and artful. Though he never made staggering physical transformations like Robert De Niro's in Raging Bull, the way he embodied his characters is unquestionable. When sitting for his 1994 chat with James Lipton on Inside the Actors Studio, Newman said, "For me, acting is like drudging through a river." Like a master in any arena, he never let the effort show.

In spite of his love of acting, Newman made his proudest accomplishment not for celebrity but for charity. In 1982, he launched Newman's Own, a food company that has raised over $250,000,000 for humanitarian causes. The endeavor began when a friend complimented him on his homemade salad dressing being good enough to sell. (As an aside, the best-kept secret of Italian-American households is that Newman's Own spaghetti sauce finds a home in every pantry. Under any other cirumstances, stocking pasta products bearing a non-Italian's name would be a sin, but in the case of an honorary paisan like Paul Newman, an exception must be made. Who can resist that smiling face on the label?) In a 2005 interview with AARP magazine, Newman expressed more pride in his charity work than in his acting. "I hope the [Hole in the Wall Gang] camps last longer than the films."

In his personal life, Newman enjoyed a 50-year marriage to Joanne Woodward. The couple had three daughters, Lissy, Nell, and Clea. He also had two daughters, Stephanie and Susan, from his first marriage to Jackie Witte. His son, Scott, died of a drug overdose in 1978. In keeping with his resilient manner, he converted his grief into giving by starting a drug center in his name.

Paul Newman was much more than an actor. A contributor in every respect, he dedicated his life to being the best in every field he explored. He made his mark and the world is a better place because of it. To honor Newman's wishes, keep his dream alive by making a donation to The Hole in the Wall Gang today.

There is no choice of words, no matter how carefully assembled, that could justly summate the greatness of Paul Newman's career. Instead, here is a moment from the film responsible for what I consider his best performance. This scene gets me every time I watch it.

RIP, Paul Newman

2008-09-27T09:28:00.000-07:00

1925-2008

Screen legend Paul Newman has died after fighting a valiant battle with cancer. He was 83 years old. Read the ABC breaking news story here.

Though Newman's passing was expected following reports of his wishes to die at home after grueling rounds of chemotherapy in the hospital, the news still comes as a huge loss to the world of movies. A full tribute blog will follow.

The Case Against Ratings

2008-09-15T15:09:00.000-07:00

In the world of moviemaking, events that give film scholars an opportunity to editorialize occur nearly every day. When I first started this blog, I knew it would be but a matter of time before something happened in the film industry that gave me probable cause to opine about censorship. Last week, I followed a link to a story on AVClub posted on IMDB that sent my senses reeling. Read the story and decide for yourself as to whether or not it makes sense.

Before I comment on the issue at hand, I wish to disclose my bearing of mind toward freedom of expression. As a fervent First Amendment supporter, I believe that, with few exceptions, neither the government nor private enterprise has any right to suppress freedom of expression. Instances I consider exceptions to this rule include, but are not limited to, child pornography, snuff films, shouting "fire" in a crowded theater, falsely accusing someone of committing a crime, and picketing funerals. Any person responsible for committing these acts deserves punishment on the basis of violating laws that protect individual rights.

That being said, why did the MPAA's handling of the poster for Zack and Miri Make a Porno boost my blood pressure? The same reason I objected to the government's reaction to the Janet Jackson Super Bowl wardrobe malfunction. At the time, the major networks ran parental advisory disclaimers when airing the story on the evening news, but gave no such consideration when they showed the latest military combat footage from Iraq. Mere titillation, it seems, is less offensive than actual violence. Now, the MPAA wants us to join them in their objection to a pair of suggestively placed heads on the poster advertising Kevin Smith's upcoming comedy. When the film hits theaters next month, American audiences will have to settle for a different poster showing stick figures while Canadian audiences will see the original poster in theater lobbies. Perhaps it's the MPAA's own petty way of getting back at Kevin Smith following their appeal of the film's original 'NC-17' rating to 'R'. One wonders if the MPAA would have raised any objections to the poster had it showed appendages or splattered blood.

This decision leads me to ask an important question: do we really need movie ratings anymore? More to the point, did we need them to begin with? Social conservatives argue that MPAA decisions reflect a tolerant -- if not permissive -- response to provocative content in comparison to the Will Hays Production Code, but anyone who knows anything about American film history knows that that isn't saying much.

From its inception in 1966, the association has promoted itself as a reliable resource for moviegoers, especially parents. In codifying film ratings to the scale currently in use, the MPAA created a convenient, easy-to-understand system that helps viewers make quick decisions as to the films they want to see. While the idea reflects innovation, the system is not without its drawbacks. A grouping of alphanumeric characters may tell you that a film is offensive (at least to the body who applied the rating), but it doesn't tell you why. True, the rating card may read "rated R for violence, nudity, and sexual situations", but that's as specific as said descriptions get. How much of the film's running time accounts for these offenses? How many scenes feature bare buttocks, drug use, or spurting arteries? An accountable group would make these statistics (not to mention the identities of its members) public, but their actions send a clear message: just trust our judgment; you don't need to know how we work.

The 'NC-17' (formerly 'X') rating represents the group's most disingenuous tactic. This scarlet letter classification is designed, so the movie cops claim, to protect children from the worst of the worst in cinema: pornography. While keeping intense depictions of violent and sexual acts out of children's hands is a good idea, these decisions need to be made by parents and no one else. What, then, is the actual reason for shackling films into this pillory? Why, to cripple the box office potential of films the association wants to see fail, of course. Watch Kimberly Peirce's interview footage in This Film Is Not Yet Rated for a firsthand account of this malicious practice. In Kirby Dick's fascinating documentary, Peirce revealed that Boys Don't Cry initially received an 'NC-17' rating from the MPAA, which was later appealed to an 'R' after a number of sex scenes were trimmed. The group had no qualms with the graphic violence in the film; just the sex. It sounds like someone isn't exactly dealing from the top of the deck. Metaphorically speaking, the MPAA is standing at the jukebox and they expect the industry to dance to the tune. In other words, if directors expect their films to enjoy the benefits of advertising and theatrical release, they have to play by the MPAA's rules. If this isn't an abject bully tactic, I would certainly like to know what is.

The MPAA, like any other censor board, uses the ratings system to impose their morality on the public. If the God-fearing members of the MPAA object to a certain film, you know it must be bad. Wouldn't it be nice if we all reacted to raunchy flicks the way they do? What the MPAA fails to realize is that, while some attitudes are universal, morality is a subjective creature. This is not to say that morality changes from day to day, as the late Tony Snow once said on Real Time with Bill Maher, but that it often varies from person to person. With regard to movies, not everyone shares the same thoughts and feelings on sex, violence, or depictions of these acts in films. One man's poison is another man's popcorn. A fair system would let a film's content speak for itself (more on that later) and then let the public decide whether it succeeds or fails. But obviously, this approach is out of the question.

Does this mean that I enjoy every act I see depicted in films? Absolutely not. Though I consider myself a tolerant viewer, there have been times when I have grown uneasy while watching a film. The masturbation scene in Gus Van Zant's abominable remake of Psycho, the final fifteen seconds of Boogie Nights, and the disgusting Kinky Kelly sequence in Clerks II were all gratuitous. Still, in spite of my displeasure, I support the artist's right to include these scenes in their films, and I would never take action aimed at preventing such films from being released. Rather than organize a boycott, a tactic I have always found ineffective, I would give the films little or no attention. Otherwise, why give a movie you want to see go down in flames free publicity? In the words of Evelyn Beatrice Hall, "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."

The strongest criticism I have of the MPAA ratings system is its inconsistency. While growing up, I can recall seeing movies with a 'PG-13' rating that featured at least one character getting shot, bared breasts, and no less than two F-bombs being dropped in the course of two hours. On the other hand, I can recall seeing films that had but one mention of the dreaded F-word get slapped with an 'R' rating. These decisions raise a number of questions: Were the people who rated the 'PG-13' films the same ones who rated the 'R' films? If so, what specifically led to their rulings? Are the qualifiers for ratings (assuming specific ones exist) subject to change? Did the members see the films in their entirety? Or did they just watch the trailer? While we may never know the answers to these questions, one fact with which not even the staunchest of conservative film raters can argue is that some viewers are less tolerant than others and in turn, will be more likely to set their ratings phasers to 'R' or 'NC-17' whenever they see or hear something on screen that causes them discomfort. The MPAA allegedly staffs its body of raters with a diverse sample of adults that represents the population at large. Even if such a feat were possible, how does the association handle a disagreement over a given film? While I'm on the subject, why does the MPAA insist on shrouding the identities and voting records of its members in secrecy? Not even the Supreme Court operates in that fashion, and they're a far more important voting body.

How do we solve this problem, then? I propose an alternative to our current film ratings protocol: a content disclosure system. Using every medium of movie advertising, I would publish a list of statistics in place of a simple letter or alphanumeric combination. (e.g., 75 mentions of the F-word, 3 instances of full frontal female nudity, 25 instances of violent killings, 2 scenes involving drug use) A system like this would help parents make an informed decision as to whether or not they would feel comfortable allowing their children to watch a particular movie, much less watch a movie themselves. One objection some may raise to this proposal would no doubt criticize the amount of time and effort required to examine the statistics. The best response I have to this opposition is a question. When a good parent shops at a supermarket, do they pile food into the cart without a second thought or do they stop to read the nutritional information first? Should advertisers worry about the amount of time they would have to buy for fitting statistics in a trailer, the amount of time needed would be but an extra three to five seconds. Now that I think of it, what's wrong with displaying those statistics in a black bar at the bottom of the screen à la CNN headline crawls while the trailer plays? An announcer's voice or a separate title card could then wrap up the trailer by instructing the audience to visit the MPAA web site for a full list of the film's statistics. Though there is no such thing as pure objectivity, raw data in the form of mathematical or scientific results arrived at via rational processes is the closest we can come to this ideal. After all, numbers -- unlike people -- never lie. A system like this would save parents from having to preview a film for their children, and would reveal potentially objectionable scenes without spoiling key plot points. Once potential viewers have this data on hand, they can apply their own ratings. Anyone opposed to a system like this is too scared and lazy to think independently, and wants everyone else to have that comfort, too.

If the MPAA won't change its ways, it would be nice if they lightened up. But I'm not holding my breath. As long as they're allowed to conduct their business the way they do, it's only a matter of time before those self-appointed morality cops find another stimulus to activate the panic center in their brains and sound the alarm in kind. The true pornographers in this or any society are not those who have sex on camera, but those who think they can tell the populace which works among music, film, radio, television, and literature are acceptable for consumption, and then have the gall to unilaterally censor such material based on their own moral convictions. Contrary to the beliefs held by crusading xenophobes, catching sight of certain images or hearing certain words will not turn a person into a drug dealer, a serial killer, a terrorist, or a pedophile. To paraphrase what Tom Braden once said on CNN's Crossfire, "Each of us has a personal responsibility [to decide what we want to see and listen to], and that's as far as it can go."

Do you agree with the MPAA ratings system? Would you like to see it changed, if not abrogated altogether? Whatever your opinion, please leave your comments. When you do, be assured that, so long as you don't circumvent the law, I will not censor your words.

'Slumdog Millionaire' Wins Top Prize in Toronto

2008-09-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

Slumdog Millionaire, the story of a poor East Indian teen who wins the jackpot on his native country's edition of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, has won the Cadillac People's Choice Award at the 33rd Toronto International Film Festival. The gong was presented yesterday to director Danny Boyle, whose previous films include Trainspotting and 28 Days Later. The Canadian Press has a decent recap here.

The win boosts the likelihood that Millionaire will show up on the Academy's radar. Two previous recipient of TIFF's top prize, Chariots of Fire and American Beauty, went on to win Best Picture at the Oscars. Eastern Promises, last year's winner, went on to earn Viggo Mortensen an overdue acting nomination.

Slumdog Millionaire opens in limited release on November 28th.

IFC Saves 'Che'

2008-09-11T21:37:00.000-07:00

The Los Angeles Times reports that IFC Films has agreed to distribute Steven Soderbergh's biopic Che. The controversial project spent many months in limbo following its lukewarm reception at the Cannes Film Festival back in May, with some speculating that the film would not see the light of day. Read the article here.

Back in May, I posted a blog expressing my disappointment in Soderbergh for tackling this project. At the time, I wondered whether Soderbergh would split his four-and-a-half-hour epic into two separate films or roll them both into one long, boring trip to Revisionist History 101. Bloggers covering the Toronto Film Festival are reporting that IFC will open the full movie with intermission for a one-week run in New York and Los Angeles in order to qualify for awards. Then, Part One (aka The Argentine) will open in anywhere from 15 to 25 key markets sometime in January. Part Two (aka Guerrilla) will open sometime after the announcement of the 81st Academy Award nominations on January 22nd. IFC may very well offer moviegoers the option of seeing the films either separately or together. For many audiences, this will be akin to choosing between the guillotine and the electric chair. There is even talk of both movies being made available via video-on-demand concurrent with their nationwide theatrical releases, but I'll believe that when I see it.

Oh, if only I had waited one more day to publish my previous blog. The film's heretofore uncertain future was the only obstacle keeping me from including that film (or would it be those films?) on that list. Even if box office revenue comes close to meeting the budget (which Wikipedia lists as $58 million, while IMDB lists it at $70 million, the sum total of The Argetine's $30 million plus Guerrilla's $40 million; choose your favorite figure), reviews will be mixed at best. What's more, the only Academy Award nomination this film has any hope of earning is a lead acting nod for Benicio Del Toro. When both installments do make their way to my neck of the woods, I'll be taking my place in line at the dollar theater.

My List of Predicted Fall Failures

2008-09-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

As summer winds to a close, Hollywood prepares to enter the season of Oscar. With the recently-wrapped Venice Film Festival and the 33rd Toronto Film Festival making headlines, fans and studios alike are keeping watch for early contenders in the race for those coveted golden statuettes. As such, scores of entertainment magazines and web sites have already begun devoting considerable ink and server space to fall preview sections.

Amid the excitement over who might be in the running for the 81st Academy Awards, however, a different kind of enthusiasm has started brewing. A number of critics (among whom I count myself) find themselves dipping their arrows in cyanide and scanning the herd of fall releases for prime targets to gleefully shoot down. This delicious helping of Schadenfreude helps soften (if not eliminate) disappointment whenever an expected hit bombs, and sets the stage for hours of lively debate. Presented here are five feature films due out this fall that I predict will stink more offensively than a daycare center in the middle of flu season.

A few final words in the way of a disclaimer: I am perfectly aware that I have not yet seen these movies. Should you have any objections to my making premature statements in that regard, feel free to leave a comment. In the unlikely event that any of these movies should prove decent, I will address those matters in future postings.

Lakeview Terrace - When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I couldn't help but think of Unlawful Entry. In this film, an LAPD officer (Samuel L. Jackson) voices his objection to the interracial marriage of his new neighbors (Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington) by subjecting them to non-stop harassment. The premise initially struck me as intriguing, but loses its appeal every time I read about the movie. From the look of this movie, it seems to me that Neil LaBute, who has yet to knock me out with any of his films, is looking for a creative way to bring Cape Fear into the 21st Century. That certainly is an ambitious goal, but the recipe is missing a vital ingredient: revenge. The most frightening aspect of Cape Fear was the depth of Max Cady's vengeance. Though he was a vicious predator who deserved his incarceration, he went to extreme lengths to make Sam Bowen pay for failing to get him acquitted. In Lakeview Terrace, the Jackson character -- at least as indicated by the trailer -- harbors no vengeful feelings for the Wilson character; he's just a bigoted bully. How the movie will end is anyone's guess at this point. Will the policeman lose his badge for his dishonorable conduct? Will the fed-up young couple finally move away, only to be replaced by another pair of unlucky neighbors? Will the policeman kill the wife and plant evidence that incriminates the husband? However the plot unfolds, I'm willing to wager a painful offering that the film, like most mediocre fall thrillers, will procure the most common critique aimed at American movies today: it's been done before -- and better, at that.

Valkyrie - Tom Cruise was no doubt crestfallen when this film's release date was pushed back to February 13th, 2009. According to reports, United Artists made that call because Cruise's German accent was laughably bad. Raising the budget of a production plagued by numerous problems, several scenes were reshot in June. The new trailer for the film shows Cruise using an American accent for the lead role, and its release date has been moved up to December 26th. Although the film boasts a fascinating story, the true plot to assassinate Hitler, the casting of the lead role could not have been worse. If Tom Cruise's career is going to be resuscitated, he needs to gradually work his way back up to roles of this magnitude. His hilarious turn in Tropic Thunder was a good start in that direction. Another quibble: Tom Cruise has no business playing non-Americans. It's just not part of his screen persona. Granted, he's no Tom Hanks or Jimmy Stewart, but each and every one of his most popular movies (including the three that earned him Academy Award nominations) cast him as Americans. Why couldn't Bryan Singer get a more versatile actor like Johnny Depp instead? (Oh, yeah. He had a schedule conflict with Sweeney Todd.) Ron Howard might have been a better choice to direct this film, too. One of his specialties is taking a true historical event whose outcome is already known by the audience at the start of the film (witness Apollo 13 and Cinderella Man) and turning it into a compelling story. Unless I'm wrong about this one, the general consensus will be that Valkyrie should have been made as a documentary.

W. - This is my early pick for the winner of the Razzie Award for worst film of 2008. Just when I thought Oliver Stone was starting to get his career back on track after Alexander landed in theaters with a resounding thud, he had to go and embark on this artistic misadventure. When I first read three leaked pages of the film's screenplay online months ago, I said aloud, "He's not seriously going to make this movie...is he?!" Stone's intention with this film is clear. He wants to sneak one last slap to the face of our current chief executive before he completes his second term. He knows that Bush will still be in office when the film is released next month. It's as if he's already anticipating the reverent ooh's and ah's from his devoted contingent of fans for launching a scathing attack toward a president who is not only living but also incumbent. Contrary to what his fans will think, W. is no All the President's Men and Stone is no Alan J. Pakula. Practically speaking, every aspect of this film looks horrible. For one, most of the actors are fatally miscast. Dick Dreyfuss as Dick Cheney?! You've got to be kidding me! That's like casting Charles Laughton as Gandhi, for God's sake. As for Josh Brolin, what was he thinking following his impressive turn in last year's Best Picture winner with this embarrassment? We can only hope that the months between the release dates of this film and Milk will be enough time for the public to forget about Brolin's work here.

Twilight - "A teenage girl risks everything when she falls in love with a vampire." So reads the tagline for this film on IMDB. Based on the bestselling novel by Stephenie Meyer, this story of forbidden adolescent love looks like the a rejected pilot for a series on The CW. In other words, methinks it's low-rent Romeo and Juliet. According to a blurb in the fall preview issue of Entertainment Weekly, 6,500 fans stormed Hall H at Comic-Con to see the cast. If that is an indication, Twilight just might be bad enough to earn a ton of money. In an unrelated matter, this film should have been given a different title seeing that a Paul Newman thriller of the same name was released just ten years ago. Intellectual property laws, one would think, would have a statute of limitations that would keep these duplications from occurring. I have a similar objection to Crash and Crash, but I digress.

RocknRolla - A variety of London thugs take turns double-crossing one another in pursuit of fortune, as brought to us by the director of Snatch, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, and the atrocious remake of Swept Away. Normally, I would elaborate on the plot and people involved with the production, but such an investment of effort would hardly be worth it here. Poor Thandie Newton; along with W., RocknRolla is the second film on this list in which she appears. If she doesn't take a stage role on the West End or Broadway between now and 2012, her career may never recover.

Which films are you anxious to see fail this fall? Leave your predicted list of losers with your comments. Happy hexing!

A Sonorous Voice Goes Silent

2008-09-03T16:28:00.000-07:00

1940-2008

The film and television industries have lost one of their biggest fixtures. Don LaFontaine, the voice actor responsible for more than 5,000 movie trailers, has died at the age of 68. Read the AP story here.

Though he wasn't the first talent to record a trailer for a feature film, LaFontaine qualifies as a pioneer in my book. Before voice actors, movie trailers had a melodramatic aroma about them. This was characterized by wipes between scenes, sappy scores, and giant letters that flew at you from out of nowhere. (e.g., COMING SOON! THE SUSPENSE! THE ADVENTURE! RONALD COLMAN AS YOU'VE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE!) Those trailers still have a nostalgic charm, but they fail to transport you to another world the way Don's voice could.

That all changed in 1964, when LaFontaine wrote a trailer script for the forgettable western Gunfighters of Casa Grande, originally to be read by a voice actor. The actor failed to show up, leaving LaFontaine to read the spot on his own. It was the first movie trailer he ever voiced and the rest, as the old saying goes, is history.

What made LaFontaine unique was his versatility. Most voice over actors, not unlike most live actors, tend to find one comfort zone and stay within it. With effortless ease, LaFontaine continually tested his own boundaries, providing the ideal vocal milieu for virtually every film genre. Whether speaking in an ominous bass range for a science fiction thriller or growling like a chainsaw for a horror movie, LaFontaine had an unteachable gift of conveying emotion in a matter of seconds.

Equally impressive was his work ethic. When not making appearances at conventions or giving interviews, LaFontaine was standing in front of a microphone, recording as many as 35 spots a day from his home studio. His fax machine was continuously spitting out scripts for him to record until the day he died, no doubt.

Those who knew and worked with LaFontaine recall his affable personality. "I've been there to watch that [talent] grow over the years," fellow voice actor Paul Pape said in an interview. "His ego has not grown."

His amiable side also showed when he argued in favor of more movie trailer voiceover work for women. How refreshing it would be to hear feminine voices introduce upcoming movies. If the smoky sex appeal of Stevie Nicks can pave the way for gold records and Grammys, why not let female voice actors record movie trailers? A woman's touch would be perfect for romantic dramas and comedies, and even animated features.

LaFontaine leaves a legacy that has inspired generations of actors to pursue careers in the voice industry. The world still has talented voice actors to narrate movie trailers, but no one can ever replace that unmistakable voice of God. Don may be gone, but his contribution to the movies will remain with us for as long as the seventh art survives.

Reading Between the Frames

2008-08-30T16:46:00.000-07:00

One of the great joys of studying movies is making new discoveries. The beauty of the lively seventh art, to paraphrase Gilbert Seldes' affectionate name for it, lies in its clamoring to be analyzed from every conceivable perspective. This is precisely what leads to golden moments of Epiphany experienced when a young film scholar spots a previously unnoticed bank of set pieces -- cutting instruments mounted on the wall of a hardware store -- on his tenth viewing of Psycho. How do directors plant these subtle brushstrokes that penetrate our subconsciousness, only to migrate to our conscious awareness later? Moreover, how can viewers raise their awareness of these seemingly inscrutable touches? Roger Ebert provides an engaging answer to the latter question in his latest blog posting on how to read a movie.

While Ebert's article does not present a comprehensive guide to studying movies, it certainly qualifies as a good starting point. For a more in-depth reference source, I must take a walk down Memory Lane. On the first day of a spring film seminar I took at Pacific Lutheran University ten years ago, I was furnished with a two-page handout entitled "How to 'Read' a Film". In that document, my wise professor pointed out specific patterns for which to listen and watch. What's more, he codified them under a series of subheadings. (e.g., mise-en-scène, costume, lighting, dialogue, camera movements, sound) Unfortunately, I have long since misplaced that invaluable guidepost, an act for which I may never forgive myself. Should I happen to recover it, I will be sure to upload it on a future posting.

The laying down of such rules invariably leads some film students to raise objections. "How am I supposed to enjoy a movie if I keep vigil for all this stuff," some grumblers ask. It's a valid question. The coldest, hardest fact of film criticism is that you can't just sit back and allow yourself to be caught up in the magic of the movie, as any audience member would, if you expect to grow as a film scholar. One must learn to dissociate.

The mere thought of such discipline is enough to make most film fans heartsick. Then again, the first-year film student may ask, "Is it possible to analyze and enjoy a film at the same time?" The answer to this question is yes, but it takes practice. It is a skill that is akin to the one music scholars employ when listening to the patterns of Mendelssohn's melodies and being moved by them at once. Dramatists argue that entertainment is impossible without suspension of disbelief. Even this critic still catches himself being led off track by an engrossing story, a heartbreaking score, or a stunning performance by an actor from time to time. A simple solution to this problem would be to use the first viewing as an opportunity to watch the movie as a regular audience member. Then on subsequent viewings, the cerebral tools can be taken out of the shed, sharpened, and put to use.

This compromise works well for recreational movie fans, but it presents a problem for serious film scholars aspiring to work as film critics. Reason: lack of sufficient time. Pity the poor reviewer who has but one viewing to absorb every drop of a given movie's intellectual and emotional juice before the publishing deadline arrives. To this end, I've often wondered how Leonard Maltin and other critics who rank movies with stars can render such judgments so soon after seeing them. Movies need time to digest. That's why the dormancy period is important. We've all seen movies that tasted great going down, but left a nasty hangover the next morning. (viewer's remorse, if you will) I shudder to think how often reviewers shoot themselves in the foot by writing reviews when caught up in the emotional first impressions of a mediocre film. It goes without saying that periodic reassessment is an important part of criticism. Tastes change as time passes, as do the effects certain films have on audiences.

In cases when time is not of the essence, the film scholar has the DVD in his or her favor. The advent of home video arrived as a dream come true for film buffs. Thirty years ago, graduate film students had to wait weeks to catch redeye showings of Rouben Mamoulian's early works on late-night TV, and then scribble page after labored page of notes for a doctoral dissertation while watching. Today, the creation of a Netflix account eradicates this problem with the click of a mouse. In his article, Ebert speaks of his teaching experience as deeply rewarding. A scaled-down version of this classroom in the dark can be attained by inviting a few friends over to scrutinize The General (the 1927 version starring Buster Keaton, that is) and encouraging anyone in the room to call "stop" whenever a new discovery is made. The best work is done in teams, and sometimes all a great film needs is a fresh pair of eyes to find a hidden treasure. If an ad hoc study group cannot be assembled, Steven Spielberg has sage advice: watch movies with the sound turned all the way down.

Ebert makes insightful observations about camera movements. The only comments I have to add focus on temporal placement. In Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries, for example, the camera moves to the left whenever Victor Sjöström's curmudgeonly professor returns to his past, and tracks to the right upon his return to the present.

Similarly, Ebert's thoughts on placing actors and other subjects in the frame are on target. To write an addendum, it bears mentioning that an unwritten rule applies to most two-shots featuring a man and a woman: the lady goes on the left. The age-old rule of ladies first applies to cinema just as much as it does to etiquette. This placement is used when the relationship between the couple is happy. Conversely, the lady almost always appears on the right whenever tension or trouble is at hand. One marked exception to this rule can be found in North by Northwest, where Cary Grant appears on the left side of the frame in the vast majority of the film. This places his face in the top-left -- or northwest -- corner of the shot. (As an aside, astute viewers will notice that characters with strong moral fiber symbolically occupy one side -- usually the right -- of the frame, as a hero adheres to his principles. An exception to this rule comes to us in the form of Toshiro Mifune's morally ambiguous rogue samurai in Yojimbo, who bounces all over the frame from one scene to the next as he plays both sides of a crime-ridden town against one another.)

Here, I resist the writerly temptation to go out on a zippy line. Instead, I invite you to contribute to this article with your own reactions. Which movies among your favorites continue to reveal previously hidden secrets? Do you follow any film study prescripts not covered by myself or Mr. Ebert? If so, please leave a comment below. I would love to read your thoughts.

RIP, Bernie Mac

2008-08-09T10:11:00.000-07:00

1957-2008

The Associated Press reports that famed actor and comedian Bernie Mac died of pneumonia at a Chicago hospital this morning. Mac had been hospitalized with the condition since last week. He was 50.

This sad news arrives on the heels of producer Bernie Brillstein's passing, and comes as a devastating loss to the world of entertainment.

Mac always struck me as a charismatic performer with incredible resilience. I caught my first glimpse of him in 1995, when he hosted a late-night variety show, Midnight Mac, on HBO. As I recall, the taping did not go well, but Mac rolled with the gaffes like a seasoned professional. What I didn't know at the time was that he was already 38, had been active in stand-up comedy for nearly 20 years, and didn't get his first taste of fame until he won the Miller Lite Comedy Search just six years earlier. A late bloomer in a traditionally young business, he didn't stop knocking at the door to success until it opened.

He soon began popping up in movies, beginning with his role as Pastor Clever in Friday. At his best when playing authority figures, Mac possessed an uncanny ability to be both commanding and funny, a combination rarely found in any actor. Watch the scene in Bad Santa where his no-nonsense mall security chief nabs a young shoplifter.

Then in 2001, the Fox network gave him his own vehicle, The Bernie Mac Show. The show was popular among television audiences, lasting five seasons and earning Mac nominations for the Emmy and Golden Globe Award. Perhaps his most poignant moment ever captured on screen was when he received news of his beloved uncle's death in the episode "Sweet Home Chicago". The sadness in his eyes was heartbreaking and his refraining from bursting into tears for fear of looking weak to his family was genuine.

George C. Scott once remarked that he looked for a "joy of performing" quality, among others, when judging actors. The test is fair, and Mac passed it with flying colors. Even if he had never gotten his big break, Mac would still be doing stand-up comedy in his hometown of Chicago today; not out of the blind hope that he might one day be discovered, but because of the joy it brought him.

Though his life was cruelly cut short by illness, Bernie Mac leaves a legacy that deserves respect and appreciation. We must give thanks that he avoided the destructive influence of drugs, projected a wholesome image, and worked tirelessly to uphold it. He was a man of many hats: actor, comedian, father, friend. To this fan, the sum total of his achievements fits one description: inspiration.

Ebert Leaves Balcony, Launches Blog

2008-07-31T13:07:00.000-07:00

As reported by MSN today, veteran film critic Roger Ebert has left his movie review TV show "At the Movies" and has just launched his own blog via the Chicago Sun-Times. Read his heartfelt posting on his departure here. When Ebert first left the show for health reasons, I suspected that he would not return. Sadly, my prediction has come true, but not for the reason I thought it would.

Ebert's transition from TV to the web marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. Many fans of the program, among whom I count myself, have expressed feelings similar to those experienced upon Johnny Carson's 1992 retirement from "The Tonight Show". The comparison is valid, as regular viewers invited Ebert into their living rooms for over 25 years and are sad to see him go. One of the cold, hard facts of the television industry is that, regardless of the subject or time slot, talk shows can only last so long before they need revitalization. In most cases, the passing of the torch to a younger host coincides with the retirement or firing of the current host. The new talent is then tasked with the Olympian responsibilities of maintaining the current viewership and wooing a new generation of fans. Regarding "At the Movies", the show will go on with Ben Lyons and Ben Mankiewicz taking over as hosts.

It is worth noting that, in spite of an extended cancer battle that has cruelly robbed him of his speech, Ebert's output of reviews has been largely undiminished. In fact, his writings have been so prolific in recent months as to put critics of younger age and better health to shame. His resilience in the face of an illness that has nearly claimed his life is nothing short of Spartan and serves as an inspiring example for the rest of us to follow. Judging from the man's work ethic, enthusiasm, and unwavering passion for the art he loves, Ebert's best work is ahead of him.

Film in Perfect Balance: 'Koyaanisqatsi' at 25

2008-07-27T10:34:00.000-07:00

The annals of film-centered writing are littered with remembrance articles. Published a certain number of years after a given film's release (ten, 25, and 50 appear to be the usual suspects among such anniversaries), these obligatory bloviations offer fond reminiscences of life in a bygone era, the film's initial box office run, and vapid catch phrases from the film's screenplay that have since permeated our popular culture to become a part of our lexicon. Invariably, these disingenuous recollections are written to boost the sales of said films' special DVD box sets.

In the case of Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi, a welcome exception to this rule is at hand. Though the film does celebrate its 25th birthday this year, nowhere will a theatrical re-release or commemorative DVD be found. Leave it to the studios' anti-substance marketing machines to heap nostalgic recognition on undeserving films. If the spectrum of film criticism produces no other acknowledgment of Koyaanisqatsi this year, let this missive stand as a salute to one of the most powerful statements on humanity's relationship to planet Earth every captured on celluloid.

As a fair disclosure to my readers, it should here be noted that detailed descriptions of several scenes will follow. Though this disclaimer smacks of a spoiler warning, such words are not appropriate in this case. Koyaanisqatsi is a film of such depth and beauty that even if the most astute film scholar in the world were to intricately dissect its every frame and its every second of sound, the analysis would not come close to spoiling anyone's first viewing. Ten viewings will yield ten separate interpretations, and at least as many new discoveries. In the truest Confucian sense, this picture is worth ten thousand words.

The film opens with a series of nondescript shapes that gradually form the film's title (which roughly translates from Hopi to English as "life out of balance") in a vivid red font. This unveiling, which closely resembles a sunrise, is accompanied by the solemn score of Philip Glass. Soon the image changes to a zoom-out shot of an Indian pictograph depicting a group of dark figures (presumably humans) standing around a taller, lighter-colored figure wearing a crown. A lingering dissolve brings us to a slow-motion close-up of a spacecraft lifting off from its launching pad.

This stark contrast is but the first of many dualities that figure heavily throughout the film. Interior shots cut to exterior shots, the photography intercuts between dance-like slow-motion and frenetic time-lapse, day contrasts with night, and the music features melodies built on ascending and descending arpeggios that alternate between major and minor keys. In this universe, everything moves in cycles, but nothing is above decay.

It is at this moment that the film deviates from every other feature documentary made before it. Usually, the audience hears a familiar voice like Morgan Freeman's delivering the introductory narration after a few minutes. Koyaanisqatsi eschews narration completely, an audacious choice considering the film runs nearly 90 minutes. In fact, the film features no spoken dialogue whatsoever. In trusting the camera and Glass' music to narrate the action, Reggio skillfully weaves the channels of image and sound together to convey more than any spoken voice ever could.

In a sequence that puts any footage ever aired on The Discovery Channel to shame, the next several minutes treat us to a collage of breathtaking natural environments. Pristine canyon landscapes, crashing ocean waves, bubbling volcanos, and spectacular wind-blown clouds roll before us in a majestic presentation of the four elements that make our world as untouched by humans. Like Gustav Mahler's Third Symphony, the music assumes a quality so reverent, it practically jumps out of the soundtrack and proclaims, "Behold!"

Suddenly, the music changes to a dark, ominous tone. A monstrous mining truck slowly approaches the camera before pulling to a stop. Then, a construction worker (the first human seen in the film) enters the frame from the right and approaches the truck. Without warning, a thick cloud of black dust billows upward before engulfing the vehicle completely. Interpreted as a linear timeline, the simple scene portrays the destructive irony of man moving backward instead of forward when chasing technological advancements, only to be swallowed whole by the very machines designed to make life easier.

What follows is a mobile collage that places organisms and manmade structures in the frame simultaneously. Power lines divide a desert landscape in half. Beachgoers bask in the sun with a menacing power plant encroaching in the background. An atomic bomb's mushroom cloud dwarfs a cactus in the foreground. A low-angle shot of a skyscraper reflects passing clouds in its grid-like windows.

The next two-and-a-half minutes are responsible for one of the most stunning unedited shots ever captured in a feature-length film. On an airport runway, a commercial aircraft slowly taxis toward the camera. The heat rising from the asphalt makes the apparition seem otherworldly. Just when the plane comes clearly into view, it makes a sharp right turn out of the frame and is immediately replaced by a second aircraft advancing toward us. The front of the 747 resembles a blank face that stares at us dispassionately, a far cry from the warmth of the human face that Ingmar Bergman once called "the great gift of cinematography".

A cutaway brings our attention to an overhead shot of a busy freeway. For the first time in the film, the frame is completely occupied by manmade structures. The angle and position of the camera splits both directions of traffic evenly down the middle in a composition similar to that of the desert power lines seen earlier in the film. A helicopter shot provides a broader view, with the lanes resembling veins, cars resembling cells, and their drivers appearing similar to mitochondriae. Collectively, these images form a smoothly efficient network serving public functions like systems in a human body.

When rush hour gridlock brings traffic to a near standstill, the scene quickly match cuts to a helicopter shot of cars parked in perfect rows on a lot. The precision of their arrangement merits comparison to a military officer's ribbon racks. One wonders what image could possibly follow it. A junkyard? A demolition derby? The scene of a fatal collision, perhaps? No sooner do these questions cross the mind than does the shot cut to stock footage of Soviet tanks lined up in similar rows. The jarring effect of the edit strikes the viewer with the awe of a skyward-thrown bone changing to an orbiting space satellite. After an incredible shot of an in-flight B-1 Lancer aircraft taken with a cleverly mounted camera, the pace quickens with a montage of explosions that brings back memories of Dr. Strangelove's memorable finale.

When the last detonation occurs, the scene changes to a calm view of New York City at dawn. Shadows of clouds glide across the skyline as the music transitions to a lament played on a cello. Soon we see the dilapidated buildings of the failed Pruitt-Igoe federal housing project in St. Louis. Shattered windows, abandoned playgrounds, broken streetlights, torn curtains whipping in the wind like surrender flags, and unkempt ghetto residents weave an urban tapestry of despair. Several angles of the project's inevitable demolition reveal one of the most destructive cycles of modern life: build, destroy, repeat.

A time-lapse shot of clouds passing overhead transports us to another metropolis. At busy intersections, hordes of stressed pedestrians cross city streets surrounded by billboards advertising fast food, cigarettes, and liquor. How fitting it is to capture an exhausted populace rendered sluggish by the breakneck pace of life in slow-motion. Here we are treated to one of the film's most telling compositions in the form of a neon sign perched high above a city street bearing the words "Grand Illusion".

Day changes to night and the pace quickens. Freeway traffic rushes by at triple-quick speed. Commuters at Grand Central Station flock and scatter in structured chaos. City traffic darts between stoplights in short bursts that serve as an uncomfortably true metaphor for the lockstep daily routines into which we fall. The supersonic rhythm the film assumes during this sequence is enough to double the heart rate.

The alacritous procession continues with images of assembly line workers in factories. Processed foods, clothing, and automobiles race through various stages of production, sometimes with the camera keenly placed on the conveyor belt. Intercut with these preparations are snippets of supermarket shoppers in checkout lines and mall shoppers riding escalators. Some angles on the latter appear virtually identical to hot dogs emerging from production line machinery. This oscillation between the manufacturer and the consumer denotes their codependence, and underscores the ever-shortening replacement cycle by which our economy operates.

Advertising eventually finds (or, more appropriately, forces) its way into the bedlam. A close-up of a television set projects broadcasts that fly past us too quickly to be understood, but just slow enough to be perceived. An ad for Rolaids follows a young Lou Dobbs, Ted Koppel reporting live on ABC precedes a Tylenol commercial, and (in the most audacious pairing) a sermon delivered by Jerry Falwell airs just before the familiar logo for Ban roll-on deodorant graces the screen. It is an exposure of the manipulative nature of visual media that is as revealing as the writings of Vance Packard. The message is clear: don't think, just buy.

Even leisure time goes unspared from the rapid-fire onslaught. A cramped family eats dinner amid the rat race at a mall. A succession of children stand transfixed at video game cabinets, pushing buttons as feverishly as lab rats awaiting food pellets. Disco patrons maneuver uneasily on illuminated dance floors. A culture that promotes stress relief by way of additional stimulation can only end in ruin.

With a series of lingering dissolves between extreme close-ups of microchips, the film begins its gradual, haunting conclusion. The microscopic views of integrated circuits suggest the bird's eye view of city blocks. Not surprisingly, these shots are bookended with satellite views of the latter. As technology advances and hardware engineers devise ways to make large amounts of data travel faster by packing circuits closer together, the life of the machine shortens. Similarly, as the population grows and architects design buildings that hold more residents, property values and productivity may increase -- but then again, so does stress.

The long-term effects of these conditions are then laid bare in a series of slow-motion segments. The hand of an infirm woman reaches for the comforting grasp of a nurse. A homeless man wanders aimlessly among the aftermath of the New York City blackout. Burnt out pedestrians lumber down crowded streets practically unaware of one another. Finally, multiple overlays of the frenzied New York Stock Exchange meld in a disoriented blur. One wonders whether if it is methodical or accidental that a self-centered society like ours routinely produces people who lose their sense of identity.

The film ends with the spectacular liftoff of an unmanned Atlas rocket used in the Mercury space program. Though the sequence consists entirely of footage from NASA archives, the finished product shines with the polish of a big budget feature. Unlike the thrilling launch scenes in The Right Stuff and Apollo 13, however, this ascent is accompanied by a gripping sense of doom. From the moment the spacecraft clears the tower, the audience is hit with the dreaded notion that the flight is going to end badly.

In an eerie foreshadowing of the Challenger disaster, the rocket suddenly explodes while still in the troposphere. After probing the ferocious blast, the camera locates a flaming piece of debris and follows it for the next two minutes. Caught in an irreversible downward spiral, the displaced jet fragment spins toward an inevitable crash as a single organ plays an elegiac melody. What began as a promising advent has ended in ruinous destruction. With each turn, the jet's flames wane. Like a dying animal, the fragment seems determined to prolong its life as much as possible. It is arguably the most shattering metaphor for the decline of the human species ever recorded on film.

Instead of showing the jet fragment landing on Earth's surface with a violent crash, Reggio cuts to a closer, slow-motion angle of the image while it is still in the air. The final shot of the film perfectly bookends the beginning with a view of an ancient pictograph. This rendering is starkly different than the depiction seen earlier as this expression features no humanlike figures. Without a single subtitle to translate its meaning, the drawing conveys the universality of art in that the viewer does not need to speak a certain language or belong to a given religion in order to understand its message or be moved by its power.

The relevance of Koyaanisqatsi in today's world speaks to the myriad struggles we face; some old, some new, some seemingly unfixable. While our standard of living has largely improved since the film was first released in 1983, our economy has slipped into disrepair with the food crisis, mortgage meltdown, and astronomical gas prices making headlines. In this and other regards, evidence of conditions improving and worsening can be found in equal proportions. Without question, however, the one discussion the film will raise more than any other at this point in our history is that relating to the environment. Outside of the Iraq War, global warming has been the most (pardon the pun) hotly debated issue in the current presidential election. A viewing of the film will trigger lively debates among voters of different minds on alternative energy.

The film's assets are multitudinous, especially with regard to technical excellence. For these efforts, kudos of the highest order must go to cinematographer and editor Ron Fricke. His balancing of stock footage with material he shot himself blends together with seamless perfection. Those unfamiliar with the film's background would think he filmed the whole project himself.

The other artisan responsible for giving the film its power is Philip Glass. Like the greatest film composers, Glass has the gift of molding music to fit the action on screen as a painter chooses colors and brushstrokes. His melodies awaken images that would appear frightfully dull without his contributions.

Interestingly enough, Reggio originally planned to structure the film around a sequence of images on which he had decided with Fricke. After hearing an early recording of the score, however, Reggio completely recut the movie to fit the rhythm of the music. Prior to that stage, Glass showed reluctance when first approached by Reggio to compose the score, remarking that he "didn't do movie music". After several meetings between the two, Glass finally gave in. Thank the forces of good that the director was so persistent.

The film's greatest strength lies in the approach taken by the director. Though the temptation to preach when directing a documentary can be irresistible, Reggio keeps the impulse in check. He caters to no agenda and he panders to no group. Instead, he simply presents the sounds and images as a philosopher presents an argument and lets the audience draw their own conclusions. Adhering to this work ethic, Godfrey Reggio has achieved the goal that most directors never come close to reaching: he has made a film that speaks to the whole world.

Shortly after he saw 2001: A Space Odyssey for the first time, John Lennon likened his viewing to a religious experience, remarking that the film should be shown every day in a temple. Those seeking an audiovisual marvel unlike anything they have ever consumed before will feel precisely the same way. Koyaanisqatsi is a title that not only belongs in every household, but deserves inclusion as a bequest in every will. When the next generation inherits this cinematic marvel, its unfaltering resonance will affirm the film's reputation as a work that stands the test of time.

Masterpiece Recovered

2008-07-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

In what could very well be the film event of the century, a near-complete print of Fritz Lang's 1927 silent masterpiece Metropolis has been found in the Museo del Cine museum in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Read the full story from film.com here.

Cinephiles will note that the original print of Metropolis was long thought lost. Now, the world can happily scratch this important title from that list. If we could recover the early works of Ford, Griffith, and Hitchcock, that would be a lucky pan for gold.

How fortunate we movie lovers are that Lang's classic was found in a museum, where help is close at hand. (I'm still trying to figure out how the original print of The Passion of Joan of Arc wound up in the closet of a Norwegian mental hospital prior to its 1985 restoration.) Analogously speaking, one could liken this instance to a missing child being found alive in a hospital. According to reports, the film is badly scratched, but in the hands of well-trained preservationists (I sure hope Martin Scorsese lends his support to this cause), the film will get a gleaming makeover. It would be a bonus if Philip Glass or John Williams could adapt Gottfried Huppertz's original score and subsequently conduct the orchestra of their choice for its re-recording.

If I may sneak a final wish into this post, I hope Criterion buys the distribution rights for the hotly anticipated DVD release. Their dedicated staff of artisans have yet to mistreat a classic.

An Open Letter to Quentin Tarantino

2008-07-16T14:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Tarantino,

I am writing you to raise a conscientious objection to statements you have recently made in public. The reason I am doing this is not simply for the sake of editorializing, but also for the purpose of refuting the poor advice reflected in your assertions. Be assured that this is not an ad hominem attack planned for the sake of maliciously discrediting you.

Let me begin by stating for the record that I am, for the most part, a great admirer of your work. As I have mentioned to several acquaintances, my virgin viewing of Pulp Fiction on the night of November 26th, 1994, will always be etched in my memory as a movie that ended too soon. How fortunate I felt -- and still feel -- that a young maverick's career was unfolding before my very eyes. Not since Martin Scorsese have I encountered an American film artist whose vision has almost single-handedly shaped an era of movies.

Now that I have said that, it's time to get down to business. According to a news story published by IMDB on May 23rd, you held a Cinema Master Class at the Cannes Film Festival during which you said, "Trying to make a feature film yourself with no money is the best film school you can do."

There is plenty to tear apart in your statement, so I'll start with the obvious. Why would you encourage young film artists to avoid film school at all costs? You haven't spent one day on a film school campus, so what gives you the right to speak out against the idea? There are those who would argue that you didn't need film school to make you successful (and, by that rationale, neither did John Ford), but let's be honest: not everyone possesses your skills. Some people look forward to the rewarding experience of spending three or four years at a prestigious institution honing their craft while forming lifelong bonds with trusted mentors.

You shouldn't assume that anyone who follows your example will achieve your results. Why do I say that? For one simple reason: you got lucky. Extremely lucky. Consider this ratio: for every fortunate soul like yourself who writes, produces, directs, and acts their own movie with little or no money and subsequently hits the big time, there are literally thousands of others whose talents go cruelly unnoticed -- and that's assuming that their films make it to distribution. The directors, writers, producers, and cinematographers who made it to the top of the business by starting at film school far outstrip those who hacked it out on their own.

You could have very well suggested combining real world experience with film schools. What's wrong with shooting for the best of both worlds? Spike Lee financed his first feature on a credit card after completing his MFA at NYU. Of course, Kevin Smith simply took enough film school classes to learn the basics before dropping out and making Clerks on cash advances and a credit card. I could go on citing examples ad nauseam, but my point is that there is no absolutely right way to begin a career in directing films, but there certainly are a ton of wrong ways. I won't belabor the peaks and valleys of both approaches, which I'm sure you already know. Advising an audience of hungry young cineastes to forego film school altogether is dangerous. There are excellent undergraduate and graduate programs on the landscape; one just needs to know where they are and how to get accepted to them.

By now, you're probably wondering, "Why the hell should I listen to you? You've never worked in this business. You're just a critic." We critics aren't the only ones who take this position. Some of your fans with whom I've spoke happen to agree with me. You wouldn't want to alienate your fans, would you? Lest you wonder, I do have experience directing films. What's more, my studies of film history and criticism afford me a focused look at the big picture of cinema. Whatever your bearing of mind on the matter, please tell me you don't subscribe to the tiresome, ignorant old myth that those who can't do teach, and a critic is simply a film school reject who couldn't hack it in Hollywood.

Should you hold any master classes in the future, you may want to consider qualifying your anti-film school advice with the following words of wisdom. If you're not going to opt for film school for whatever reason (e.g., lack of sufficient funds, mistrust of academia, an eagerness to just get out there and start making movies), get experience wherever you can. Gravitate toward colleges large and small; schools with busy film and video production departments. Look up local production companies online. Robert Altman started out making industrial films for a Kansas City based company. If you can't find a company that will hire you, team up with a group of friends and create your own LLC. Without sounding pedantic, I'll close this subject by saying that whatever path you choose, you have to decide how many mistakes you want to make, and how quickly you're willing to learn from them.

At that Cannes master class, you went on to speak disdainfully of film composers. You were quoted as saying, "I just don't trust any composer to do it. The idea of paying a guy and showing him your movie at the end -- who the fuck is this guy coming in here and throwing his shit all over my movie. What if I don't like it? And the guy's already been paid!"

Am I to take it that you prefer to used licensed music in the public domain? Sometimes that approach works, but you can't fall back on Dean Martin and The Beach Boys to set the mood for every scene. A young director cannot afford to pay the licensing costs. There are web-based services out there who charge a per-drop fee for every piece of synthesized music they offer. The music is far from four-star quality, but it'll do in a pinch. Practically speaking, no hungry young director can afford to face the business end of a lawsuit in this litigious society. In that case, it is highly advisable for a director to hire a composer. Is it risky? Of course it is. But think of this? What part of creating art isn't? Every time a director hires someone, be it an actor, cinematographer, set designer, composer, or any other staff member, they are taking a great risk for entrusting creative license to said individual. By the way, your anti-composer statement didn't stop you from hiring The RZA to compose themes for both installments of Kill Bill, did it? According to the most current page for Inglorious Bastards on IMDB, you have yet to hire a composer for the film. Whether you hire one or not is your decision entirely, but if I were you, I would think seriously about employing the skills of a gifted musician. Dyed-in-the-wool film fanatics like myself are counting on artists like you to keep the medium of cinema fresh with new scores instead of the same recycled melodies. Think of all the leitmotifs lifted from every piece of classical music from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony to The William Tell Overture in countless commercials, parodies, and movie trailers.

If you're going to choose a composer, hire wisely. John Huston once said, "Ninety percent of directing is done in the casting." That principle applies to every single person a director works with when given command of a movie. Any CEO out there will tell you that if you hire well, the vast majority of your problems will be solved before they occur in the first place. Never send an amateur to do a professional's job.

For those young directors who are trying to get their careers off to respectable starts, they would do well by seeking out a starving young composer attending NYU or Julliard on a scholarship. The world of academia is packed with talented Mancinis just waiting to be plucked from obscurity. Not only would said talent be eternally grateful for being discovered, but the world just may be introduced to a unique musical talent that would otherwise be ignored.

As for you, Mr. Tarantino, I suggest that you find a composer with whom you can form a career-long bond. Where would Steven Spielberg be without John Williams? Where would Fellini be without Nino Rota? Would Hitchcock's films have achieved their notoriety without the efforts of Bernard Herrmann? Each composer's rich, recognizable melodies complement the action on screen like a gourmet salad dressing.

If you're worried about your composer potentially misinterpreting your vision of the movie (the Venn diagrams don't always overlap perfectly, do they?), remember what Leonard Rosenman once told Stanley Kubrick while in preparation for Barry Lyndon: "Just describe the scene as you envision it. Then, I'll take what you said and translate it into music." What director wouldn't feel assured that their movie's music was in good hands after hearing a suggestion like that? Not surprisingly, the man who back-to-back Academy Awards for Best Original Song Score.

If only Frank Zappa were still alive. He'd feel your pain...and he'd make damn sure that your score wouldn't come out sounding like garbage. How about hiring Howard Shore to score your next film? Or better yet, pull Dominic Frontiere out of retirement. One listen to his catchy, vibrant score for The Stunt Man confirms his reputation as a songsmith. Then again, if you want to guarantee an Oscar nomination (if not win) for Best Original Score for Bastards, give Ennio Morricone a call. After all, he composed the themes to the Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns you love so much. Whatever happens, just don't do what William Friedkin did when he rejected Lalo Schifrin's score for The Exorcist. As I'm sure you recall from Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, Friedkin hurled a reel-to-reel tape recorder through a window at the recording studio before screaming at Schifrin in a drunken rage, "Cut that fuckin' mariachi music outta my movie!" Schifrin was later replaced by Jack Nietzsche. All kidding aside, don't you want to see at least one of your films included on an AFI reel of clips selected for a live performance honoring film scores down the road?

If hiring a composer is something you are still unwilling to do, just pull a Clint Eastwood or a Charlie Chaplin and score the picture yourself. In fact, you even mentioned that yourself during your class. If the thought of composing a film scores on your own seems daunting, relax. You live in the twenty-first century. My advice is to use Reason, a software program that affords the end user a capability equivalent to operating five Synclaviers at once. It takes a little time to get the hang of it, but it certainly beats drawing sticks and dots on sheet music paper for hours on end.

[As an aside to my readers, it might be of interest to you that the author of this letter once considered a career in music composition, but gave the venture second thoughts upon learning the fact that it usually takes an average of 16 hours to compose a single page of sheet music for an entire orchestra.]

I know you are a busy man, and will not take it personally if you refrain from responding. However, should you find the time to reply, simply leave a comment where prompted to do so. And whatever you do, make sure your message is easier to read than Death Proof was to watch.

Sincerely,

JG

In Memory of a Legend

2008-06-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

1937-2008

The evening of Thursday, June 7th, 1990 will always have a happy place in my memory. Our house was abuzz with the usual excitement that accompanied an upcoming weekend and end of the school year, but that night in particular was a treat because it was the first time I ever saw George Carlin perform a stand-up comedy special on HBO. What I did not realize was that not only was in for a night full of uproarious laughter, but I was also about to have a new window to the world opened before my eyes. From his opening disclaimer, he made me laugh and he made me think, often simultaneously:

"This is some of the language you will not be hearing tonight. You will not hear me say bottom line, game plan, role model, scenario, or hopefully. I will not relate to you and you will not identify with me. There will be no hands-on, state-of-the-art networking. There will be no support group jargon from the human potential movement. For instance, I will not...SHARE anything with you. And if you're one of these people who needs a little space, please. GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE!"

The mischievous pleasure I derived from hearing him use four-letter words the way he did gave me the kind of thrill a high school kid derives from successfully entering a comedy club with a fake ID. My poor parents cringed at first, but they soon found themselves captivated by comic genius that could tickle the toughest funny bone. Nothing I had seen or heard before Doin' It Again had exposed me to the beauty of language, the amusing absurdity of everyday life, or the hypocrisies of our times so entertainingly. Many would color me superficial for finding inspiration in the low art of comedy, and I could care less. The insight Carlin articulated through his comedy was unparalleled, and my first exposure to it was nothing short of a life-changing moment.

Why publish a post about a comedian on a blog about movies? Before Carlin succumbed to heart failure at the age of 71 on June 22nd, he amassed a respectable filmography to his credit. While I have yet to see his performance as an aging tracker in the 1995 made-for-TV movie The Streets of Laredo (his best acting work, according to a timeline entry on his official web site), my favorite role of his was Eddie Detreville, the loveable gay neighbor in The Prince of Tides. His time on screen was brief, but he made enough of an impression to convince you that he wasn't just another comedian who could ham his way through a caricature in a movie. George took every role as seriously as his most experienced co-stars and he committed himself to continual improvement.

Then there is his impressive canon of stand-up work. From 1977 to 2008, George wrote, produced, and appeared in 14 comedy specials for HBO, an effort yet to be equalled by any other comedian. Some people don't even appear in that many films. This is, by my own admission, an apples to oranges comparison, but in terms of output alone, that's John Belushi's career times two and James Dean's career times five.

Every time he performed, Carlin displayed an arsenal of skills he refined to the point of mastery: exaggerated facial expressions, pitch-perfect accents and dialects, split-second timing, and a photographic memory. I had the privilege of seeing him perform live four times, and his flawless renderings of I'm a Modern Man, his plan for balancing the budget by turning four of our United States into prison farms, his elaborate complaints about soccer moms, bad drivers, and guys named Todd, and his vision of the apocalypse ending with everyone's Uncle Dave returning to Earth from the dead were demonstrations of theatrical talent. A professional actor could very well condense any of his spoken word pieces and use them as audition monologues.

If there is a single word to describe Carlin's life and legacy, it would be "unique". He was a brilliant satirist, a gifted wordsmith, and above all, a free thinker. True to his own rebel nature, he remarked time and again how much he detested groups but cherished individuals. The best people in the world, he once claimed in an interview with Jon Stewart, are the ones with the universe in their eyes. Though I never got the chance to meet him, if I had, I would have told him the words I have on my mind tonight: thank you for treating us to the universe that is your talent.

Shyamalan's Folly

2008-06-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

"I forgot where I am," mutters a confused woman seated on a bench in Central Park. After pausing a moment to stare blankly into space, she pulls a hair stick from her neatly styled coiffure and plunges it into her neck. So begins The Happening, the latest offering from M. Night Shyamalan, the man who brought us such nail-biting shockers as The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs, and The Village. The remainder of the film not only induces the viewer to forget where they are, but also gives us plenty of reasons to follow said lady's example.

The story follows Elliott Moore (Mark Wahlberg), a Philadelphia high school science teacher who evacuates the city after learning about a wave of mass suicides sweeps through the Northeast. The cause is at first thought to be a terrorist attack, but this suspicion is soon debunked when no evidence of such can be uncovered. Joining Elliott by train are his wife, Alma (Zooey Deschanel), his friend and colleague Julian (John Leguizamo) and his daughter, Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez).

Soon their train grinds to a halt, leaving the four of them to press on by car. After Julian separates from the group to find his wife, the rest wind up on foot. As each subsequent means of transportation becomes slower (much like the pace) and more primitive than the last, doom draws nearer. Shyamalan had to have patted himself on the back for coming up with that stroke of plotting.

Now comes the all-important question: to spoil or not to spoil? In the interest of civilized conduct, I'll refrain from revealing the not so jaw-dropping twist at the end. I will say, however, that the method by which the threat is alleviated hardly amounts to an exciting conclusion. Instead we get buildup, boredom, more buildup...and no payoff. At least in Signs, a far superior film, the bad guys assumed physical, tangible forms. This motivated the good guys to discover an effective means of defeating the bad guys once and for all. Here, the good guys (and gals) don't win. They just walk away unscathed.

There are films in the suspense category that feature no final battle (much less victory) between good and evil, that still reward the audience nonetheless. Even the elite among film aficionados would be remiss to call The Birds a misfire. While not a perfect film, it has to its advantage the ability to sustain our emotional investment in the characters -- and with it our attention. What's missing in The Happening is good, old suspense. The key to striking terror in the heart of the audience, Hitchcock said, is to portray the ordinary as frightening. A single viewing of the shower scene from Psycho confirms that the Master of Suspense practiced what he preached. Shyamalan's folly lies not in making the ordinary seem frightening, but in the making the ordinary seem...well...ordinary. Any film that purports to be even somewhat scary must instill the fear that danger can strike the characters at any given moment, and without warning. The Happening fails to convey that sense.

Regarding the performances, allow me to paraphrase the closing credits of Frankenstein. If a good cast is worth repeating and a bad cast is worth forgetting, then a good cast in bad roles deserves some credit. John Leguizamo's talents are wasted on a frenetic, one-level character with a pittance of screen time. In spite of his best efforts to find variations, his work comes off as your basic frazzled performance. In the role of Alma, Zooey Deschanel mugs her way through the movie with a facial expression that oscillates in resemblance between a constipated frog and a spoiled brat seconds from crying. Like Leguizamo, she outdoes her best to find a musical range beyond do-re-mi, but to no avail. Perhaps her best takes were left on the cutting room floor in a spiteful act of sabotage. Contrarily, old pro Betty Buckley shines in a brief, creepy role as a mysterious woman who offers food and shelter to the fleeing group.

In the roles of the children, Ashlyn Sanchez, Spencer Breslin, and Robert Bailey, Jr. supply the film with some of its more honest moments. By virtue of the fact that younger performers have less experience to draw from than their adult counterparts, gifted child actors never fail to astonish. Eliciting golden moments from children is arguably Shyamalan's strongest suit. When the kids are more resilient than the adult characters, however, something is dreadfully wrong with the story. It should here be noted that Shyamalan commits the unforgivable sin of subjecting not one, but two children to a needless act of violence.

Ever since his impressive turn in Boogie Nights eleven years ago, Mr. Wahlberg has proven himself a capable leading man on more than one occasion. Like Will Smith and Frank Sinatra, he has made a seamless transition to movies from a career in music. If he plays his cards right, there just might be an Oscar in his future. Having said that, his performance in The Happening is not among his finest. The problem here lies in his inability to play intelligence. He doesn't have that worldly, well-read look about him, like Tom Hanks, Gregory Peck, or Sidney Poitier. Wahlberg is at his best when playing men of action who aren't afraid to meet a challenge -- but not before making a few well-timed wisecracks. Sgt. Dignam may not have been a Rhodes scholar, but at least he was prepared to accomplish his mission in The Departed. Obviously, Shyamalan has failed to realize that casting an actor like Mark Wahlberg as a wimpy science teacher can be just as fatal as casting Clifton Webb as Stanley Kowalski.

What is one to make of M. Night Shyamalan's career at this point? Several critics, among whom I count myself, have voiced the opinion that The Happening represents the continuation of his downward spiral. As I recently wrote in a letter to a friend, I'm not quite ready to dismiss him as a one-trick pony. What Night needs is a hit movie to break him out of his slump and get him back into his creative hot zone.

Here are a few suggestions he can take to improve his movies: 1) He needs to broaden his exposure. If Shyamalan expects to grow as an artist, he must break out of his supernatural comfort zone. While it is admirable that he writes and directs all of his movies as a true auteur would, the man is no Ingmar Bergman. Sometimes an artist needs to paint out of canvas to create his best work. Why couldn't he surprise us with a western? Or a romantic drama? Or a sprawling historical epic? That would be a welcome change of pace. When he ventures into unknown territory, he may very well tap gifts he never knew he had. Case in point: before The Bridges of Madison County was adapted for the screen, no one could have guessed that the star of Dirty Harry would lovingly realize Robert James Waller's novel. 2) Perhaps it's time for Shyamalan to hire a screenwriter. The delegation of this duty will no doubt free him up to focus on character development, visual style, and action sequences. Besides, his ear for good dialogue is getting rusty. 3) If Mr. Shyamalan insists on retaining screenwriting credit, he should seriously consider selling the Philadelphia estate where he writes his scripts. The best writers can testify that right working environment can make all the difference in the world. Ernest Hemingway wrote some of his best novels at his beach house in Acapulco. Eugene O'Neill wrote his Pulitzer Prize-winning plays at his stately mansions in California, Connecticut, and Georgia. J.K. Rowling birthed most of the Harry Potter books while riding on a train. Given the right guidance, Night will find the right property where inspiration can strike him.

The Happening takes the unconventional approach for a scary movie, and fails for that very reason. Without seeming formulaic, sometimes movies turn out best when they stick to what works. In omitting suspense, the one ingredient necessary for films of this genre to succeed, M. Night Shyamalan has left us with a dish blander than pancakes without maple syrup. For viewers expecting a traditional, reliable suspense film that pulls you to the edge of your seat, The Happening will bitterly disappoint.

R.I.P., Sydney Pollack

2008-06-03T16:06:00.000-07:00

1934-2008

After logging out of my e-mail account the week before last, my browser redirected to the news headline "Director Sydney Pollack Dead at 73". At once shocked and saddened, my eyes flared wide as I said "no" aloud. The story revealed that he had been fighting cancer for months, a battle of which I was completely unaware. Read Ty Burr's excellent tribute to the man here.

Pollack's work first entered my consciousness when I was five. It was then that his comic gem Tootsie first appeared on our living room television set and became an instant family favorite. Not being in a position to understand or appreciate the subtlety, nuances, and adult themes of the story, I was thoroughly entertained by this winning slice of inspiration all the same.

There is no easy way to summate Sydney Pollack's career as a director. Fans never associated his name with any one category of movies, as Woo is known for action, Ford for westerns, and Hitchcock for suspense. In his 1994 appearance on Inside the Actors Studio, he was asked by James Lipton to pinpoint a common thread in his work. He paused a moment before replying, "Everything I've ever directed has been a love story at its core." The rule doesn't apply to every film he directed, but it demonstrates how much ground he could cover with a simple theme. He used the love story nucleus to great effect in the taut political thriller Three Days of the Condor, the downbeat but powerful Depression drama They Shoot Horses, Don't They?, and the sweeping epic Out of Africa, for which he won the Best Director Oscar.

He began his career as an actor after studying under Sanford Meisner at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York from 1952 to 1954. Pollack soon decided that he lacked the looks to be a successful actor and, after receiving encouragement from his friend Burt Lancaster, transitioned to directing in the early 60s. His acting background proved useful in his approach, as he consistently elicited first-rate performances from his actors, 12 of whom received Academy Award nominations for their performances under his direction, and two of them (Gig Young and Jessica Lange) won Oscars.

Despite turning his back on acting in his mid-twenties, Sydney never walked away from the craft altogether. As he proved on many occasions, he was a fine actor in his own right. Whenever he acted in his own films, as he did in The Interpreter, Random Hearts, and Tootsie, he played his roles as if he were cast in another director's film. Anyone who has ever directed a movie (or even a stage play) can tell you, that is a task that is not easily accomplished. Too often, when directors tackle vanity projects that place them on both sides of the camera, they shift the focus toward their own presence and away from the theme of the story, and lack the presence of mind to objectively direct their own performances. The Postman stands out in my mind as the most egregious example of this mistake, as Kevin Costner let his ego run wild in cooking up a turkey so abysmal, it nearly ruined his career. The Man Without a Face also suffers from this drawback, but not as badly. Robert De Niro struck the perfect balance with A Bronx Tale and The Good Shepherd, but I digress. Pollack never lost his place in the pecking order, and that evident self-awareness always came through in his work.

Even when he acted in films directed by others, he kept his ego in check and restricted his creative bailiwick to the role. I've often wondered how difficult it must be for actors turned directors to take a role under someone else's direction. It's a commitment that requires a fair amount of self-restraint, especially when said actor doubts the director's judgment. (Observe: "Now, why the hell did he the put camera over there? That's a lousy angle. What was he thinking when he cast this bozo? He couldn't act his way out of a wet paper bag. Good God, this is a long take. Say 'cut' already, you idiot!") Warren Beatty crafted a fine collaboration with Barry Levinson on Bugsy, Sir Richard Attenborough followed suit with Steven Spielberg on Jurassic Park, and Mel Gibson worked well with M. Night Shyamalan on Signs. All three men won Oscars for directing prior to taking on those roles, and yet you never get the sense that any of them interfered with their directors. (I dare not mention how Kevin Costner grossly overstepped his bounds while in production on Rumor Has It...) Pollack deserves to be included in this group, as his performances were always fine-tuned and from the heart. Whether playing an amiable friend or an amoral sleazebag, Sydney never conveyed a single moment that wasn't honest. He was at his best in roles that called for him to be funny, manipulative, and quietly commanding. Watch the subdued, effective scene in Changing Lanes when he advises Ben Affleck's young Turk attorney to spend a year defending a man's life in Texas. The gravity he conveys in that brief, memorable exchange is nothing short of magnetic.

The way he ran a production sets a gold standard for all other directors to follow. Once, while attending a family backyard barbecue, I met a man who had worked as a key grip. When I asked him who his favorite director to work with was, he mentioned Pollack's name without a second's hesitation. After complimenting him on his warm personality and angelic patience, the man recalled how much he admired the no-shouting policy Pollack enforced on set. Making a movie is stressful enough as it is with deadlines that need to be met and divine inspiration that must be tapped on a moment's notice. Any fool who runs around shouting for whatever reason, he believed, only adds confusion to what should be a positive working environment and he was absolutely right. Not surprisingly, he cultivated a reputation as a man with whom everyone wanted to work. No one he directed or acted alongside, from Sidney Poitier to Sean Penn, had anything but praise for him.

It bears mentioning that he got more out of Robert Redford than anyone else who has ever directed him. Both men made their screen acting debuts in 1962's War Hunt, and struck up an instant friendship. The bond lasted longer than two decades, and resulted in a total of seven teamings, just one film short of the De Niro-Scorsese collaboration. Though Redford's acting range is, as David Thomson succinctly stated in A Biographical Dictionary of Film, paper-thin, Pollack cast him in such a diversity of roles that, in retrospect, made him appear versatile. Unlike the De Niro-Scorsese dynamic, Pollack and Redford had a more casual work ethic. They never phoned in their efforts, but they didn't wear one another out, either. As well, most of the movies they made are not classics and they were never meant to be regarded as such; just unpretentious entertainment with a heart and a brain.

In an industry where directors are recognized as auteurs based on their distinctive styles, Sydney Pollack's body of work stands out among thousands because it doesn't. He never concerned himself with flashy camera movements, million-dollar special effects, or groundbreaking digital sound. He didn't care about being deemed the master of the erotic thriller, a visual tone poet, or the king of comedy. If any single label could be applied to his work, only one would fit: genuine. What mattered most with Sydney was the story, and it showed in everything he touched. With more than 40 pictures to his credit, the man has made his mark.

In closing, I leave you with one of the best showcases of Sydney Pollack's talents as an actor and director. Here is one of the funniest scenes from Tootsie.

Cold Serial

2008-05-31T11:39:00.000-07:00

The last time the world saw Indiana Jones, he was riding off into a glorious sunset flanked by Dr. Marcus Brody, Sallah, and his dear old dad in the final shot of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. In the 19 years that have passed since that closing credit backdrop, film fans have been clamoring for the next adventure. After an extended wait and much speculation as to where Indy's latest quest will take him, our hero has returned.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, the fourth installment in the series, arrives with great anticipation to droves of eager moviegoers. Unfortunately, what Steven Spielberg and company have delivered fails to meet expectations driven skyward by a barracuda marketing campaign. All of the Saturday matinee serial ingredients, including an imminent threat to American democracy, a dashing hero sent to thwart the bad guys, and plenty of rip-roaring action to propel the story forward, are present. The problem here is that the formula has gone cold and stale.

Crystal Skull finds Dr. Jones battling to stop Russian spies from acquiring a certain artifact. The McGuffin in question is (you guessed it) a crystal skull whose powers can, if so harnessed, be used to dominate the world. Set in 1957, the story takes Jones on a whirlwind trip that begins in the desert of New Mexico. After a clever dissolve from the familiar paramount logo to the opening shot, we soon see Indy make a daring narrow escape from the Commie villains led by the ferocious Colonel Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett).

Soon we find Indy resuming his teaching duties at Marshall University when the amiable Dean Charles Stanforth (a criminally underused Jim Broadbent) delivers the bad news that government agents have brought false charges of Communist affiliation against him. Stanforth resigns and offers Jones a leave of absence to protect him from the frivolous witch hunt. Grudgingly, Jones accepts. Before he leaves town, we learn that both Dr. Marcus Brody and his father have died within the last two years in a brief scene that teeters on the brink of excessive sentiment.

Enter Mutt Williams (Shia LaBeouf), a brash young greaser with crucial information about Harold Oxley (John Hurt), a former colleague of Dr. Jones. According to the leather and denim-clad tough, "Ox" went missing while searching for a crystal skull in Peru. Answering the call of duty, Indy boards the next plane to Peru and the audience is treated to the red line tracing his route on a map, which includes a stop in Havana. (too bad he couldn't wipe out Che Guevara while passing the time on layover)

The remainder of the film sees Indiana on a race against the Soviet stooges to an ancient cache (one of the more eye-popping movie sets in recent memory) where a spectacular finale unfolds. Along the way, he reconnects with Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen, just as plucky as she was in Raiders of the Lost Ark) and discovers a previously unknown family member. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I must refrain from relinquishing more.

In spite of its technical wizardry, the film falls short on a number of fronts. The pace, for one, drags in far too many places. In the three previous movies, especially Raiders, Spielberg drove the action at a breakneck rate of speed in the best William Witney tradition. In Crystal Skull, dialogue scenes that should have been wrapped up in three minutes go on for five or seven. That may not sound like much, but when one commits to directing an action movie, one must know when to shift gears for fear of the engine bogging down.

The film also suffers from shortcuts taken with visual effects. Once too often, the effects shots reek of CGI. This would be perfectly acceptable in a series like Star Wars, but the audience is not used to seeing computer-generated effects in Indiana Jones movies. Mindful of this, Spielberg has mentioned that 30 percent of the film's special effects were captured via CGI while the remainder were achieved the old-fashioned way. This was done so as to maintain consistency with the three previous films. The effort is noble, but the decision was a mistake. While it would have been too costly, time-consuming, and dangerous to film some of the jungle stunts "live", it is apparent that Spielberg took the easy way out with several other effects. Not only is he getting lazy in his old age, but the temptation to adopt a copy-and-paste work ethic when making movies in the Internet Age is strong. In the first three ventures, Spielberg relied on the old school method of building a breakaway set, miniatures, moving the camera, and using an optical primer to create eye-popping visual effects. Hence the rolling boulder in Raiders, the mine car chase in Temple of Doom, and the rescue of Indy's father from the Nazi tank in The Last Crusade. I will say, however, that Spielberg did use a digital effect to film the death of a Nazi villain in Crusade. All of that aside, it would have been a treat to see him rely less on computers for the action sequences.

The main villain also detracts from Crystal Skull's inertia. True, Colonel Spalko is whip smart and displays deadly skills with any weapon she handles, but she lacks a vital quality necessary for a formidable villain in any adventure movie: the potential to wreak havoc on a catastrophic scale. In fact, the threat the villain poses must be so formidable as to temporarily cause doubt that the hero can victor. Cate Blanchett gives a decent performance in the role, but she never quite makes you believe that she can ruin Indy's world.

In Raiders, Rene Belloq served, as Michelle Malkin noted in one of her most insightful blogs last week, as the perfect foil for Indy. He was just as smart, a physical equal, and had the evil Nazis on his side. Mola Ram, the towering Satan-like menace from Temple of Doom, was a sensational bad guy. Amrish Puri's characterization was over the top, but those intense burning eyes of his were enough to frighten the living daylights out of anyone who looked into them. Walter Donovan made a sensational debonair despot in The Last Crusade. Eventually, Indy broke his flank, but Donovan's challenge was staggering. Had Irina Spalko been a vicious assistant to an even more ruthless villain, that would have been a vast improvement, and it would have allowed for a suspenseful buildup to a smashing final face-off.

This is not to say that the film is an irredeemable bore. On the contrary, it is quite enjoyable to watch. Fans of the series will be delighted to see the usual Spielberg touches of Old Hollywood backlighting, the absentee father plot line, and plenty of classic film references to boot. Astute viewers will catch homages to The Wild One, Citizen Kane, The Ten Commandments, and Aguirre: The Wrath of God. Only the elite among film aficionados will catch a tribute to Steve McQueen in a motorcycle chase that cuts through a college library, but I digress. When the picture does fire the thrusters, it soars. The action reaches a fever pitch in an exciting jungle swordfight (staged in the middle of a high-speed car chase, no less) that is worth the price of admission by itself.

A minor quibble must here be mentioned. What in the world happened to Sallah? Why is he absent from this venture? Not only do we not see hide or hair of his portly figure, but not once does a single character mention what became of him. Granted, Sallah is not a major character in the Indiana Jones universe, but his presence in the three previous films was cheerful and refreshing. Just as Tom Hagen's absence from The Godfather Part III was like pesto without pine nuts, Crystal Skull is missing an appetizing spice without Sallah.

The actors are all well cast, but with a script that lacks uniformity in the way of good dialogue, that is not saying much. Give a world class musician an out-of-tune instrument and you'll get a three-note performance at best. Cate Blanchett, Ray Winstone, and John Hurt all do their best, but each is capable of far better work. 21-year-old Shia LaBeouf inches closer to acting maturity with his performance here. Residual nervous energy from adolescence still shows in his work, as Tom Cruise's work did before his career-defining turn in Born on the Fourth of July. Within the next ten years, this talented young man will stun the world with a breakout role for which nothing we have seen from him so far will prepare us. Until then, the man has quite a bit of space behind his ears that needs drying.

This brings me to Harrison Ford. As I've imparted to a number of acquaintances in recent years, Ford seems tired lately. His performances in Hollywood Homicide and Firewall had the look and feel of a man struggling to finish a marathon. Having just turned 65 this year, the man cannot possibly have the prizefighter stamina to rally for another turn as Indiana Jones....or can he? Be assured when this reviewer states two simple words for the record: he's back. It is a testament to Ford's loyalty to Spielberg that he undertook a rigorous diet and exercise regimen to prepare for the role, which clearly shows in his impressive physique and Stendhalian command of the role. While it is reassuring to know that he can still rally for a leading role, one gets the impression that Spielberg is the only director for whom Ford would have such consideration. If I may sneak one more editorial comment into this paragraph, I really do hope that Ford gets off the canvas and finds a career transitional role like the one Paul Newman found in The Verdict. The shift will open him up to a new generation of fans, reveal an untapped dimension of his talent, and it just might steer him toward his long overdue Oscar.

Also in fighting form is the man in the director's chair. Crystal Skull may be a popcorn movie, but his footing is just as sure as it is when he tackles a serious drama. As my brilliant undergraduate mentor said in the very first film history lecture I ever heard him give, Steven Spielberg reminds us of why we go to the movies. Crystal Skull is no exception to that rule. In an era when too much of our cinematic output resembles extended episodes of Lost and Desperate Housewives, only with swearing and nudity, Spielberg keeps the medium special by using every square inch of the screen to wholly entertain his audience. He makes his movies so that they can be experienced in a theater and not on a cell phone, an iPod, a laptop, or on a commercial airplane. Not since Jurassic Park has he left us with the uncheckered reassurance that not only was he preparing for a serious project, but that his next film will bat a thousand. That being said, we can only expect greatness from Lincoln.

How does this installment rank to this critic? It isn't the best of the series, but it certainly isn't the worst. If this were the Olympics, Crystal Skull would claim the bronze medal. The film is better than Temple of Doom but not as good as The Last Crusade. So long as human hands can keep our greatest films from succumbing to the ravages of time, Raiders will always reign supreme. If this really is the last of the Indiana Jones series, Indy has made the most graceful exit into that mild summer night of retirement. When such a hero consistently emerges victorious from four seasons of thrilling adventures, the purchase he makes on immortality ranks nothing short of grand. In that respect, a quiet exit can be just as dignified as riding into the sunset. And as the final scene makes doubtlessly clear, the man may be retired, but nobody else can wear Indiana's hat.

'Class' Massacres 'Che' at Cannes

2008-05-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

The Class, a French drama centering on the challenges a young teacher must face in a tough Parisian school, won the Palme d'Or at the 81st Cannes Film Festival yesterday. The coveted prize was presented to director Laurent Cantet by Robert De Niro. Read the Reuters story here.

The win came as a pleasant surprise and great relief to this film fan, and for a number of reasons. Those who followed the coverage know that Sean Penn headed the jury responsible for selecting one film for the top honor. Knowing that Clint Eastwood's picture The Exchange (based on The Changeling) was in competition, I thought that Penn would pull a few strings among the jury and see that the man who directed him to an Oscar in Mystic River was recognized. However, when interviewed at an opening ceremonies press conference, Penn was quoted as saying, "One way or another, when we select the Palme d'Or winner, I think we are going to feel very confident that the filmmaker who made the film is very aware of the times in which he or she lives." Keep in mind, this is the festival that gave the Palme d'Or to the lying pig from Michigan four years ago for the biggest crockumentary ever made. Moreover, when I thought about a certain world leader with whom Penn likes to hang out, I was overcome by a nauseating premonition that Steven Soderbergh's Che would claim the highest prize. Thankfully, good taste prevailed.

Before I go any farther with Che, I must issue a disclaimer. Most of the time, I prefer to resist the urge to politicize when blogging. Last year, I had the pleasure of reading John Simon on Film: 1982-2001. In the book, he quoted the French novel Le Lys Rouge as part of his review of JFK when he wrote, "I hope I never become so devoid of talent that I take a liking to politics." I only adduce this excerpt because it comes as close to my stance on the matter as any inked expression in the English language. All literary conversation aside, any good student of cinema knows that every film must be judged on its own artistic merits. It is not always easy to separate the art from the artists, but it is a discipline that must be exercised if one is to produce good criticism. While it is true that Lina Wertmüller is a Communist and Leni Riefenstahl was a Nazi, it is my ability to separate the work from the person who created it that allows me to regard each woman as a genius and their respective films Seven Beauties and Olympia as masterpieces. Now that I have shed light on these facts, be warned: heavy politicizing ahead.

When I first read last year that Oscar-winning director Steven Soderbergh was shooting not one, but two feature-length movies (The Argentine and Guerrilla) about the life of Communist revolutionary Ernesto "Che" Guevara back-to-back, my blood pressure shot up higher than current gas prices. I reacted this way because each movie paints one of the most brutal figures of 20th Century history with an admiring brush. I will state for the record that I regard myself as a tolerant viewer. It takes quite a bit to offend me. Color me out of touch with reality if you wish, but to me, one of the non-negotiable rules of moviemaking states that it is absolutely forbidden for anyone to treat a mass murderer as a folk hero on screen. To say that these movies will make The Motorcycle Diaries look like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington would be a gross understatement. While I have not yet seen either film, I am willing to wager my next three paychecks that Guevara's documented murders of children in front of their parents for the sake of advancing Castro's revolution will be conveniently absent from Soderbergh's vision of the story. He's taking this approach because he knows damn well that if anyone were to expose the truth of Che's legacy, any audience member with a modicum of common sense would reel back in horror. Soderbergh, however, prefers to play fast and loose with facts. He, like any other nitwit who thinks it's cool to rewrite history, knows that he can only tell the story he wants to tell if he omits the less than pleasant events from his rendering.

Ernesto "Che" Guevara executing a 14-year-old child at La Cabaña Fortress for the crime of resisting his Communist regime in an undated photo.

At some point, I am bound to receive at least one piece of hate mail castigating me for speaking out against Che Guevara. The nasty missive will no doubt ask if I sympathize with the Batista regime. Allow me to clear up that matter with three simple words: don't be ridiculous. In all fairness, Fulgencio Batista was a vicious dictator who made life unbearable for countless Cuban families. Anyone who thinks that Castro (assisted by Guevara) rescued the Cuban people from Batista's tyranny is eating a steady diet of magic mushrooms and washing them down with Draino. If anyone wants to call what I am about to say about Guevara's legacy a narrow-minded overstatement, they may go right ahead: instead of freeing the Cuban people by way of a violent Marxist revolution, all Guevara and Castro did was replace one corrupt regime with another. Should you disagree with that statement, Google a recent news story to come out of Cuba. When you do, consider the fact that Raul Castro will within the next year permit Cuban citizens to have state-regulated "luxury items" like toasters and cell phones to those who qualify...and they only had to wait 50 years. Quite a humanitarian, that Castro. But I digress.

Some of you are probably saying, "J.G., be fair. You haven't even seen the film and you already have your knife out." Well, of course I have my knife out. Look at the subject of the movie(s) and, more importantly, look how he's being portrayed. You wouldn't expect four-star greatness from an Uwe Boll movie, would you? Why should I expect to be deeply moved by Soderbergh's latest venture? Make no mistake. I am not boycotting these movies in advance; far from it. Rather, I am simply voicing my disappointment in an (anti-)American film artist who made an incredibly foolish career choice.

What's wrong with Steven Soderbergh? Is there a warped corner in his creative right brain that convinced his (not so) rational left brain that mounting these efforts was a good idea? How can any sane person consider such a cinematic endeavor a labor of love? If he really wanted to make a movie about Che (a Spanish colloquialism for "buddy", ironically enough), why couldn't he take the approach that Ivan Passer did when he directed the brilliant biopic Stalin for HBO in 1992? (For those readers who have not seen that telefilm, do yourselves a favor and buy it. Robert Duvall won a richly deserved Golden Globe for his chilling performance as the titular cold-blooded Russian dictator.) That would have been the honorable thing to do.

Perhaps Soderbergh thought that he couldn't get any funding for the picture if he painted Che as a bad guy like those jingoistic fascist conservative Republicans love to do. After all, Warren Beatty had no problem getting distribution from Paramount back in '81 when he released Reds, a film I like to refer to as the most beautifully photographed bore ever made. Plus, Robert Redford stepped in with a generous contribution as executive director on The Motorcycle Diaries just four years ago. Che, Soderbergh thought, ought to be a slam dunk, right? Wrong. According to the Wikipedia entry for The Argentine, both films were made without any American money or distribution. At one point, Soderbergh remarked, "It was very frustrating to know that this is a zeitgeist movie and that some of the very people who told me how much they regret passing on Traffic passed on this one, too." Why is he so surprised? Does he really expect any savvy Hollywood producer to make a gamble on such a repugnant project? The films found several buyers at Cannes, but for now, it looks as if Focus Features, the same gang who handled the distribution duties on The Motorcycle Diaries (hey, it's familiar territory for them) will be getting in bed with both installments of Che.

I'm not worried, though. Most of the reviews at Cannes, where both films were screened as a single four-hour and twenty-minute presentation, came back less than positive. Even if Soderbergh reached an agreement with Focus Features to split Che into two features in the tradition of Kill Bill, I believe that both pictures will bomb at the box office. I also have a poisonous premonition that even if Guerrilla -- the darker of the two films -- doesn't get nominated for Best Picture (shades of Letters from Iwo Jima beating Flags of Our Fathers to that punch two years ago), Benicio Del Toro will almost certainly snag a Best Actor nod for his performance in the title role. In fact, Del Toro won that very award at Cannes yesterday and after pausing to admire a t-shirt bearing the dead red's image worn by a female onlooker, he took a moment to pay tribute to the man himself.

As I mentioned earlier, I am not boycotting these films and will not do so when they are released this fall. In fact, I plan on seeing both films and posting my reviews for each on this site. When I'm at the theater, I won't be surprised if I come into contact with fellow audience members wearing Che t-shirts, those hip pop culture fashion statements flaunted by misguided Gen-X'ers. In truth, I'll even be sporting such a t-shirt of my own, albeit featuring an added detail.

My Deepest Thanks

2008-05-25T21:56:00.000-07:00

After an inexcusably long absence, I have finally found the time to publish a new post. Many of you have been wondering what's been keeping me from the keyboard, and for good reason. The straightest answer I can give is that I have simply been tied up with other tasks. When last I left you, the 80th Academy Awards were just hours away and boy, did I strike out on my scorecard. Of the 24 categories recognized, I only guessed 13 winners correctly. As the old saying goes, you can't win 'em all.

Needless to say, quite a lot has happened in the world of movies while I've been away. Two weeks after the Oscars, Anthony Minghella suffered an untimely death following surgery. Within the next week, Paul Scofield and Richard Widmark succumbed after fighting long illnesses. Then in early April, the world said goodbye to an icon.

On a happier note, the Marvel Comics adaptation Iron Man opened to rave reviews (and a record-smashing opening) in mid-April. As of today, the movie is $40 million shy of hitting the half-million dollar mark and is the highest grossing film of 2008...so far. This brings me to the long-awaited fourth installment of the Indiana Jones series. The reviews I have read since the picture screened at Cannes last week have been mixed, but the general consensus is that the action is non-stop from opening shot to closing credits. I'm seeing the film tomorrow with my family and will be sure to post my own review. Say what you will about Harrison Ford being too old to take on the title role one last time (Charles Bronson made action films well into his 70s, for crying out loud); I'm just glad to see Spielberg in popcorn mode again.

By now, I'm sure you're wondering about the new LAMMY icon that seems to have snuck onto the right side of the screen. A few weeks ago, the voting body who chooses the best of the blogs known as the Large Association of Movie Blogs (LAMBs, for short) got together and selected the crème de la crème of this collective. To my surprise and delight, I was voted the recipient of this year's J.D. Salinger Award. According to the description on the main LAMB site, this is a special award reserved for the blogger who doesn't publish often...but when s/he does, the results are worth the wait. I take that as a high compliment, especially since I not only admire Salinger as a writer, but my dear friend and undergraduate mentor once compared my writing style to his. In any event, I extend my fellow LAMBs my deepest thanks for this great honor.

Stay tuned for an upcoming wrap-up of the 61st Cannes Film Festival, which will include a few distant contenders for the 81st Academy Awards and a gritty exposé of Steven Soderbergh's four-and-a-half-hour cinematic valentine to the butcher of Cuba himself, Ernesto "Che" Guevara. Stick around, folks. You won't be waiting as long for my return this time, I promise you.

Predictions for The Big Night

2008-02-24T10:41:00.001-08:00

In just five hours, the 80th Academy Awards ceremony will kick off at The Kodak Theater in Hollywood. As usual, the event is expected to live up to its glamorous reputation as the biggest awards show of the year. This year's celebration honoring the best in movies is looking to be an especially grand evening, seeing that the recent end to the months-long writers strike relieved all worries that the telecast might not see the light of day. Fortunately, the show will go on and a big party will follow.

As for who will be taking home the most coveted of all prizes, here are this blogger's predictions by category.

BEST PICTURE

Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

BEST DIRECTOR

Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Jason Reitman, Juno
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Ethan and Joel Coen, No Country for Old Men
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

BEST ACTOR

George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd
Tommy Lee Jones, In The Valley of Elah
Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises

BEST ACTRESS

Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie, Away from Her
Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose
Laura Linney, The Savages
Ellen Page, Juno

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Cate Blanchett, I'm Not There
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Diablo Cody, Juno
Nancy Oliver, Lars and the Real Girl
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Jan Pinkava, Jim Capobianco, and Brad Bird, Ratatouille
Tamara Jenkins, The Savages

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Christopher Hampton, Atonement
Sarah Polley, Away from Her
Ronald Harwood, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Ethan and Joel Coen, No Country for Old Men
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Persepolis
Ratatouille
Surf's Up

BEST ART DIRECTION

American Gangster
Atonement
The Golden Compass
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
There Will Be Blood

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Atonement
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

Across the Universe
Atonement
Elizabeth: The Golden Age
La Vie En Rose
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

No End in Sight
Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience
Sicko
Taxi to the Dark Side
War/Dance

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT

Freeheld
La Corona (The Crown)
Salim Baba
Sari's Mother

BEST FILM EDITING

The Bourne Ultimatum
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Into the Wild
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

Beaufort - (ISRAEL)
The Counterfeiters - (AUSTRIA)
Katyn - (POLAND)
Mongol - (KAZAKHSTAN)
12 - (RUSSIA)

BEST MAKEUP

La Vie En Rose
Norbit
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

Atonement
The Kite Runner
Michael Clayton
Ratatouille
3:10 to Yuma

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

"Falling Slowly" - Once
"Happy Working Song" - Enchanted
"Raise It Up" - August Rush
"So Close" - Enchanted
"That's How You Know" - Enchanted

BEST SHORT FILM - ANIMATED

I Met the Walrus
Madame Tutli-Putli
Même Les Pigeons vont au Paradis (Even Pigeons Go to Heaven)
My Love (Moya Lyubov)
Peter & The Wolf

BEST SHORT FILM - LIVE ACTION

At Night
Il Suppliente (The Substitute)
Le Mozart des Pickpockets (The Mozart of Pickpockets)
Tanghi Argentini
The Tonto Woman

BEST SOUND EDITING

The Bourne Ultimatum
No Country for Old Men
Ratatouille
There Will Be Blood
Transformers

BEST SOUND MIXING

The Bourne Ultimatum
No Country for Old Men
Ratatouille
3:10 to Yuma
Transformers

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

The Golden Compass
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
Transformers

To get your own printable ballot of this year's Oscar nominations, click here. Tune in tonight at 5pm (PST) on ABC to see the show live. I'll be back tomorrow with a complete recap of the ceremony. Until then, I'll be saying three cheers for that little gold statuette that caused all this trouble in the first place.

R.I.P., Roy Scheider

2008-02-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

1932-2008

Last Sunday, the world lost the remarkably gifted actor Roy Scheider. He had been fighting multiple myeloma since 2004 and underwent a bone marrow transplant the following year. Though he lived an active 75 years, he left us far too soon.

Like most film fans of my generation, I first saw him in Jaws and thought he was perfectly cast as Martin Brody, the driven police chief hell-bent on hunting down the titular great white shark. Underneath the hardboiled stoicism he conveyed so naturally, there was something sensitive, congenial, and refined about his presence that made him genuinely likeable. Watch the magical dinner table scene between him and young Jay Mello where the son emulates his father's gestures and facial expressions. Fast forward to the heart-pounding climax where Scheider's courageous cop lands a last chance, dead-on rifle shot that blasts the monstrous creature to smithereens. The joyous scream Scheider emits while clinging to the shredded remnants of the sinking vessel captures the triumphant spirit of an impossible mission accomplished more beautifully than the most articulate declaration of the words "I did it". The tonnage of cinema provides filmgoers with an abundance of golden moments that leaves the viewer wondering whether credit belongs to the director or to the actor for their conception. In this case, Scheider's electric spontaneity was too real to be thought of ahead of time by Spielberg.

Four years earlier, he found worldwide fame -- and his first Academy Award nomination -- for The French Connection. Although it was a top-grossing dynamite action movie, his role of Buddy Russo featured no memorable lines of dialogue, shocking confessions, or climactic confrontations. Yet, his effort was enough to make a splash and get noticed.

Then in 1979, All That Jazz arrived and brought the role from Heaven with it. Roy was brought on board to replace Richard Dreyfuss, who left the production during rehearsals. After seeing the former's performance, one wonders what led Bob Fosse to consider (much less cast!) Dreyfuss in the first place. Skilled as he is, Dreyfuss possesses none of the raw sexuality and slick, manipulative guile that Scheider amplified so easily through his Joe Gideon. Only Scheider could have made that role so simultaneously charming and churlish. He seduces the audience as easily as he does his latest leading lady. How did Scheider acquire such an innate understanding of the Fosse sensibility? Even though the two men had never before worked together (and never would again), did Fosse trust this tough-guy veteran of The Seven-Ups, Marathon Man, and Sorceror enough with his deepest, darkest secrets? He was making his own autobiography, after all. For this blogger's part, Jazz is one of the most incredible examples of an actor playing against type ever captured on celluloid. The Academy had to have struggled with its decision to award the 1979 Best Actor Oscar to Dustin Hoffman for Kramer vs. Kramer. Between he, Pacino for ...And Justice for All, Lemmon for The China Syndrome, Sellers for Being There, and Scheider, the decision had to be next to impossible. Had I been old enough to follow movies then, I would have certainly hoped that Scheider's nomination would be a call for better roles.

Sadly, those roles never came and his second nomination would be his last. Scheider did make several memorable appearances thereafter, albeit in movies than which he was better. His chopper cop in Blue Thunder seemed like a routine police flick assignment, but he gave his best effort all the same. His impassioned liberal law school professor was the only saving grace of Listen to Me, a forgettable late-80s drama that futily tried to make Kirk Cameron a movie star. Francis Ford Coppola got maximum mileage out of his presence when he cast Scheider as a slimy corporate executive in 1997's The Rainmaker. In addition, he also busied himself with several television projects, among them an enjoyable three-season run on NBC in "Seaquest DSV" and most recently, a featured role on "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" last year.

All career misfires considered, one cannot fault the man for his less than memorable movies. After all, it was the late William Holden who said, "Take any picture you can. One out of four will be good, one out of ten will be very good, and one out of 15 will get you an Academy Award." While some may dispute the veracity of Mr. Holden's claim (personally, I believe his estimates are conservative), one cannot help but agree with the incentive for making an effort. With respect to Scheider, Henry Fonda's wisdom may be more appropriate: "It's not how good you are. It's how long you last." For my own part, Roy Scheider was always good and his work will always last.

WGA Annoints 'No Country' and 'Juno'

2008-02-10T10:44:00.000-08:00

The Coen Brothers' gripping Texas thriller No Country for Old Men picked up yet another award last night when it won the Writers Guild of America's Best Adapted Screenplay award. Diablo Cody received the Original Screenplay award for the quirky teen pregnancy comedy Juno. These wins now move each film into the odds-on favorite positions of both writing categories in this year's Oscar race. Last year, Michael Arndt and William Monahan won the WGA's Best Original and Adapted Screenplay awards for Little Miss Sunshine and The Departed respectively, and each writer went on to win Oscars.

The announcements were made at a special recognition reception at the Broadway Millenium Hotel in New York. Like the shortened press conference presentation held at last month's Golden Globe Awards, the formal ceremony that usually accompanies the WGA Awards was cancelled due to the strike.

According to Variety's coverage of the event, the winners were announced just hours after the WGA East concluded a "mostly upbeat" membership meeting held to review the terms of the tentative writers' contract. If studios and union leaders agree, the strike could be over as early as tomorrow...and no one would be happier to see that happen than this humble blogger.

For a full list of this year's WGA award winners, visit the guild's official site here.

ASC Awards Top Cinematography Honors to 'There Will Be Blood'

2008-02-09T10:48:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, January 26th, The American Society of Cinematographers awarded their 22nd feature film honor to Robert Elswit for his superb photography of There Will Be Blood. This is the first win for Elswit from this guild and even though the ASC doesn't have as consistent a track record as the Directors Guild of America for predicting Oscar winners (only seven of the guild's past 21 winners have gone on to win the Best Cinematography Oscar), I'm inking the slot next to Elswit's name on my Oscar ballot in advance.

For the record, the Academy Award nominees for Best Achievement in Cinematography for the Year 2007 are:

Roger Deakins, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Roger Deakins, No Country for Old Men
Robert Elswit, There Will Be Blood
Janusz Kaminski, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Seamus McGarvey, Atonement

You may notice that Roger Deakins' name appears twice. This is within the bounds of Oscar voting rules (just as actors may be nominated for more than one performance in a single year; witness Cate Blanchett for Elizabeth: The Golden Age and I'm Not There) and with regard to the cinematography category, this is the first time this has happened in 36 years, when the late, great Robert Surtees was nominated for The Last Picture Show and Summer of '42. Surtees lost that Oscar to Oswald Morris for Fiddler on the Roof. This year, I believe Elswit will win the Best Cinematography Oscar for a number of reasons: 1) he already has one nomination -- for Good Night, and Good Luck two years ago -- under his belt and that gives him a competitive edge; 2) by virtue of the fact that Deakins is nominated twice, that's going to split the vote on him; 3) Janusz Kaminski already has two Oscars -- for Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan -- and at this point, the decision to award a third Oscar to a cinematographer in 15 years may strike the Academy as too much, too soon; 4) this is Seamus McGarvey's first nomination and even though he is a gifted cinematographer -- I still say he should have been nominated for The Hours five years ago -- he'll have to bust his hump with at least one more nomination before he takes home the gold. That leaves the field wide open for Elswit.

Besides, let's not forget about the name of the category. Even though I have not yet seen James/Ford, Atonement, or Bell/Butterfly, I can say for certain that Blood is responsible for some of the most stunning camerawork I have ever seen in a theater. The compositions, the angles, the movement, the lighting, and the colors were all brilliant. I would even go so far to say that the cinematography of 'Blood' is so great that, like Freddie Young's Oscar-winning efforts on Lawrence of Arabia, there is not shot in the entire movie that cannot be frozen and crafted into a painting. Now that I think of it, that rule also applies to Saving Private Ryan.

Lest you wonder, here is the breakdown between the ASC winners and Oscar winners for best cinematography from 1987 to 2007.

1987 ASC winner: Jordan Cronenweth, Peggy Sue Got Married
1987 Oscar winner: Chris Menges, The Mission

1988 ASC winner: Allen Daviau, Empire of the Sun
1988 Oscar winner: Vittorio Storaro, The Last Emperor

1989 ASC winner: Conrad L. Hall, Tequila Sunrise
1989 Oscar winner: Peter Biziou, Mississippi Burning

1990 ASC winner: Haskell Wexler, Blaze
1990 Oscar winner: Freddie Francis, Glory

1991 ASC winner: Dean Semler, Dances with Wolves
1991 Oscar winner: Dean Semler, Dances with Wolves

1992 ASC winner: Allen Daviau, Bugsy
1992 Oscar winner: Robert Richardson, JFK

1993 ASC winner: Stephen H. Burum, Hoffa
1993 Oscar winner: Philippe Rousselot, A River Runs Through It

1994 ASC winner: Conrad L. Hall, Searching for Bobby Fischer
1994 Oscar winner: Janusz Kaminski, Schindler's List

1995 ASC winner: Roger Deakins, The Shawshank Redemption
1995 Oscar winner: John Toll, Legends of the Fall

1996 ASC winner: John Toll, Braveheart
1996 Oscar winner: John Toll, Braveheart

1997 ASC winner: John Seale, The English Patient
1997 Oscar winner: John Seale, The English Patient

1998 ASC winner: Russell Carpenter, Titanic
1998 Oscar winner: Russell Carpenter, Titanic

1999 ASC winner: John Toll, The Thin Red Line
1999 Oscar winner: Janusz Kaminski, Saving Private Ryan

2000 ASC winner: Conrad L. Hall, American Beauty
2000 Oscar winner: Conrad L. Hall, American Beauty

2001 ASC winner: Caleb Deschanel, The Patriot
2001 Oscar winner: Peter Pau, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

2002 ASC winner: Roger Deakins, The Man Who Wasn't There
2002 Oscar winner: Andrew Lesnie, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

2003 ASC winner: Conrad L. Hall, Road to Perdition (posthumous)
2003 Oscar winner: Conrad L. Hall, Road to Perdition (posthumous)

2004 ASC winner: John Schwartzman, Seabiscuit
2004 Oscar winner: Russell Boyd, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

2005 ASC winner: Bruno Delbonnel, A Very Long Engagement
2005 Oscar winner: Robert Richardson, The Aviator

2006 ASC winner: Dion Beebe, Memoirs of a Geisha
2006 Oscar winner: Dion Beebe, Memoirs of a Geisha

2007 ASC winner: Emmanuel Lubezki, Children of Men
2007 Oscar winner: Guillermo Navarro, Pan's Labyrinth

Look sharp for the winners of the 9th annual Writers Guild of America awards, to be announced on this blog no later than tomorrow.

'No Country' Wins Top Honors at PGA Awards

2008-02-03T16:02:00.000-08:00

On the heels of last week's Directors Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild Awards, the Coen Brothers' Texas crime thriller No Country for Old Men claimed the top award at last night's Producers Guild of America Awards. Read MSN's story here.

Those who track movie award wins will know that last year's recipient of the PGA award, Little Miss Sunshine, lost the Oscar to The Departed. This year, I am confident that No Country will take home the little gold bald guy. For one, the Coen Brothers and producer Scott Rudin have earned it. Secondly, though I have not seen all of the five films nominated for Best Picture of 2007 (at present, only Atonement and Michael Clayton remain MIA on this moviegoer's viewing list), I can say without any reservation that No Country for Old Men is my favorite film of 2007. None of the other films stand a chance at upsetting No Country for Best Picture. It has all of the ingredients of a Best Picture winner: it's a serious drama, it's set in the past and above all, it represents the collective best of all the disciplines of moviemaking rolled into one terrific picture.

Next up on the awards show docket is the Writers Guild of America ceremony -- er, make that announcement. According to the WGA's official website, the Guild will announce the winners of the 2008 awards this Saturday, February 9th. There will be no awards show until the strike is over. There's a lot I could say about that decision, but all I'm going to say is this: if they want to cancel their own ceremony, that's perfectly all right with me. If they think they're going to derail the Oscars, however, I am going to be one upset customer. All grumbling aside, I predict that Diablo Cody will win the original screenplay award for Juno, and the Coen Brothers will win the adapted screenplay award for No Country for Old Men, at both the WGA's and the Oscars.

One final comment before I close. Scrolling through the list of nominees on the WGA's website, I see a category for Best Documentary Screenplay. Uhh...color me obtuse, but since when do documentaries have screenplays? It seems to me that the whole idea behind a documentary is to capture a given area of life as it unfolds, without the preconceived sequence of scenes forming a cohesive blueprint of a story that most folks would consider a screenplay. What does a documentary screenplay look like? "INT. CHARLTON HESTON'S HOUSE - DAY A fat, narcissistic liar approaches Ben-Hur himself and berates him"? Are documentary directors actually giving their subjects dialogue and direction? If so, then they're not making documentaries. They're making features with non-professional actors. From my perspective, the only material that belongs in a documentary screenplay is location details and camera directions.

Stay tuned for the WGA winners this Saturday.

SAG Crowns 'No Country' King

2008-01-28T14:53:00.000-08:00

The Coen Brothers' crime thriller No Country for Old Men continued its awards season hot streak by taking the top prize at last night's 14th Screen Actors Guild Awards ceremony. The film also received the Best Supporting Actor award for Javier Bardem's chilling performance as a psychotic killer sent to recover a cache of drug money. Both he and the film are now considered front runners in the Oscar race. See the complete list of winners here.

Coen Brothers Claim DGA Award

2008-01-27T10:18:00.000-08:00

Just as I predicted, Ethan and Joel Coen snagged the Directors Guild of America's award for feature film direction last night at the Hyatt Regency Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles. This win now propels the dynamic duo of filmmaking to the front runner position for Best Director at next month's Oscar ceremony and, as well, makes No Country for Old Men the odds-on favorite for Best Picture. Those familiar with the history of the DGA's track record will note that only six times in their 60-year history has the winner of their award failed to win the Academy Award. For the record, here are those disparities:

1968 DGA Winner: Anthony Harvey, The Lion in Winter
1968 Best Director Oscar Winner: Sir Carol Reed, Oliver!

1972 DGA Winner: Francis Ford Coppola, The Godfather
1972 Best Director Oscar Winner: Bob Fosse, Cabaret

1985 DGA Winner: Steven Spielberg, The Color Purple
1985 Best Director Oscar Winner: Sydney Pollack, Out of Africa

1995 DGA Winner: Ron Howard, Apollo 13
1995 Best Director Oscar Winner: Mel Gibson, Braveheart

2000 DGA Winner: Ang Lee, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
2000 Best Director Oscar Winner: Steven Soderbergh, Traffic

2002 DGA Winner: Rob Marshall, Chicago
2002 Best Director Oscar Winner: Roman Polanski, The Pianist

So far as I know, the awards show is not televised. Please post a comment if you know which stations broadcast this event, if any. That's why I logged on to the DGA's official web site with eager anticipation earlier this morning to learn the winner. For a moment, I thought Julian Schnabel might pull a photo finish as he did with his upset Golden Globe win for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, but the Coen's came out on top this time around. If they win the Academy Award for Best Directing, which I believe they will, this will be the first time since 1961 that the Oscar for that category will go to two directors. 46 years ago, Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins won for co-directing West Side Story.

Next up for award shows is the 14th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards, airing tonight on TNT at 8pm. View the complete list of nominees here.

Stolen Gift

2008-01-26T11:30:00.000-08:00

A young man sits in a horse-drawn buggy, lit by a brilliant midday sun. He is dressed in the unpretentious garb worn by 18th Century Americans. Just before the buggy pulls away, the young man stands, turns to bid the young lady he loves farewell, and smiles. Though his teeth are stained black (thanks to an innocent prank played on him the night before), his face beams as radiantly as the sun shining overhead. This scene from The Patriot has a special place in my heart, not because it is a tender moment in a violent war movie, but because it was responsible for my introduction to a gifted young actor named Heath Ledger. It is a simple, wordless moment that speaks a treasured message that few scenes do: "a star is born".

When I saw the film, I knew little about this charming, robust lad. He had made quite a sensation with 10 Things I Hate About You the year before, he was from Australia, and judging from the self-proclaimed arbiter of taste that is "Entertainment Tonight", this young Turk was the Next Big Thing. Usually, I cringe at such assertions. Long ago, I caught on to the garbage-in-garbage-out cycle that Hollywood follows whenever it discovers their new pretty face to market and sell ad nauseam...only to be replaced by another vacant matinee idol a few years later. (Should you disagree with this statement, just watch the final shot of All About Eve.) Star cycles grow shorter as time goes on, and the relationship between surface appeal and genuine talent is, at best, inversely proportional.

There was something different about Heath. He wasn't just another pretty face. He was a presence -- and an unforgettable one, at that. Granted, there were times when he had difficulty harnessing his boundless vigor, but this is hardly a quibble. Young actors live to play those coveted scenes that grant them the luxury of emotinal climaxes, marked by tearful confessions and racking sobs of pain; scenes leading up to those golden moments of truth have a way of confining a young thespian like a racehorse whose gate won't open. Heath was no exception to this rule, yet he was a star pupil. His earliest roles, like those of De Niro, Nicholson, Pacino, and Newman, now seem like veritable Polaroid pictures with glimpses of inspiration waiting to be cultivated. Even when required to speak the most vapid dialogue in forgettable movies, he dedicated himself to these tooth-cutting roles in such a way that made his own work rise above the embarrassing quality offered him by the script. Perhaps this staggeringly uncommon effort reflected a blind faith that a casting director might see something in him, and that better work would follow.

Then in 2004, Heath accepted the role that rocketed him to screen immortality: Ennis Del Mar, the lovelorn cattle rancher in Brokeback Mountain. Only 25 years old when the picture was made, Heath painted a nuanced master work of muted enthusiasm, festering resentment, tight-fisted pride, and shattering anguish. Considering that Heath didn't have as much experience from which to draw as an actor in his 40s would, the effort is all the more astonishing. His Ennis is an inspired physicalization of a character supplied to him only in the form of Annie Proulx's short story. Any actor would feel daunted by the overwhelming challenge of converting a simple marriage of ink and paper into a fully fleshed-out human being. (a greater challenge could be to create a fresh interpretation of a role already played by at least one other actor -- Hamlet comes immediately to mind -- but that discussion does not bear mentioning here) His command of wordless gestures (a clenched fist, an adjustment of his hat, the fumbling with a cigarette lighter) is a shining example of metamorphosis acting in the same league as Olivier.

Critics were unanimous in their praise of his performance. When the nominations for the 78th Academy Awards were announced, Heath found himself in the running for the Best Actor award. Though he lost to Philip Seymour Hoffman (nominated that year for Capote), his nomination cemented his place in the pantheon of our generation's acting talent. The morning after the ceremony, a dear friend of mine lamented, "But I wanted him to win!"

"Don't worry," I assured him. "He'll be back."

His next roles were as the heroin-addicted poet in Candy and one of the six soulful incarnations of Bob Dylan in I'm Not There. Both were solid performances, and gave him a chance to sharpen his tools in preparation for his next big turn. His most eagerly anticipated appearance was as The Joker in The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan's follow-up to Batman Begins. The trailers painted a distinctly different portrait of the character than Jack Nicholson's comic book hamfest in Tim Burton's 1989 summer blockbuster. Heath Ledger's Joker is a demented serial killer that chills you just to look at him. The advance buzz on the movie was white hot going into the New Year, and the July 18th release date seemed like ages away.

Then last Tuesday, the terrible news broke: "Heath Ledger Found Dead". The mere thought seems unreal. The loss of Brad Renfro, who died at the age of 25 in his Los Angeles apartment only weeks earlier, was smaller and to be expected. Unlike Heath, Renfro had a history of drug abuse and never gave a breakthrough performance that solidified his reputation as a serious actor. Heath had everything going for him: a successful career, a beautiful daughter, and the respect of his friends and colleagues. The initial thought that raced through my mind was suicide, a speculation tempered by police confirmation that no illegal drugs were found in his apartment. All suppositions aside, I kept wanting the news to be some sick prank concocted by some dissolute gossip journal, immediately followed by an official press release from Heath's agent that he is alive and well. But alas, such reassurance never came.

As it is when any talent leaves us too soon, the question of what said person would have gone on to do had they lived naturally arises. With regard to Heath, one can only wonder. His best work was, without a doubt, ahead of him. Like Paul Newman before him, Heath would have gone on to enjoy a distinguished career whose orbit is marked by important transitions and incredible versatility. Perhaps he would have reunited with his good friend and Brokeback Mountain co-star Jake Gyllenhaal in a film totally unlike their first and only collaboration. Perhaps he would have crossed over from leading man to supporting player once he reached his senior years. Perhaps he would have tried his hand behind the camera. There was at least one Oscar in his future. That's for sure.

At least we have the luxury of knowing that his performance in The Dark Knight is completed. His work in Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, however, is unfinished and, according to the latest press stories, Johnny Depp is rumored to pick up the role where Heath left off. Whatever happens, I just hope that the studio doesn't do to this movie what Columbia Pictures did to Game of Death after Bruce Lee died.

In one of his last interviews with The Daily Ledger, Heath was quoted as saying, "I'm not good at future planning. I don't plan at all. I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow. I don't have a day planner and I don't have a diary. I live completely in the now, not in the past, not in the future." In spite of any and all evidence to the contrary, this reader refuses to interpret the man's words in a destructive light. Rather, they reflect the dynamic spontaneity of the artist's life. Perhaps that's what made his every moment on screen so magnetic. In every role he played, both on screen and in real life, no matter how comic or serious, he was always -- as they say at The Actors Studio -- in the moment. And that is how I shall always remember him.

RIP, Heath Ledger

2008-01-22T14:28:00.000-08:00

1979-2008

I was sitting in my home office when a dear friend to called to break this sad, shocking news to me just minutes ago. Read the developing story here. What a devastating loss for the world of cinema to suffer on the day of the Oscar nomination announcements. A full in memoriam piece will be posted later. I would like to take this opportunity to extend my deepest condolences to Heath's friends and family.

Oscar Prognostications

2008-01-21T21:19:00.000-08:00

Good evening, dear readers.

As I'm sure most of you know, the nominations for the 80th Academy Awards will be announced tomorrow at 5:30am PST. Just as I have done every year since I was sixteen, I will be getting up at the crack of dawn to catch the announcement live. In anticipation of this event, I have made a list of contenders I expect to make the cut.

Some of you are probably wondering why I included more than five nominees in each category. The main reason for this is simple. For the first few years I tuned in to catch the announcement, I sat in front of the TV with blank sheets of paper and scribbled out the names and categories like mad. After going through this frenzied cycle a number of times, it occurred to me that compiling a set of lists sorted according to category ahead of time and checking off the names as they're being announced would be much simpler...and that's exactly what I've been doing for about eight years now. Granted, there are still those occasional times when a jaw-dropping surprise nominee pops up from out of nowhere and I have to quickly scribble their name by hand, but for the most part, this system has worked out quite well for me.

Though the fate of the Oscar telecast scheduled for Sunday, February 24th remains in doubt, I choose to remain optimistic that the WGA will get this ridiculous strike nonsense overwith so that the ceremony won't have to suffer the fate that fell upon the Golden Globes last week. Can you imagine? If worse comes to worst, the ceremony might have to be moved to a private location (Jon Stewart's basement, perhaps?) for the first time in its televised history. (shades of the very first Academy Awards ceremony held at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in Los Angeles on May 16th, 1929, in the form of a private banquet where the awards took about five minutes to hand out; the party has grown a bit since then)

Allow me, if you will, a brief confession before I unveil my list: I have not seen all of the pictures expected to garner nominations. While some of these movies are not currently playing at a theater close to where I live, I shall make it an imperative to see as many of them as I can before the Oscar ceremony (hopefully) airs next month. Still -- and I'm going to do my best to say this without sounding like a pompous egomaniac -- I believe I have a fairly good sense of which way the voters will lean when choosing their nominees.

And now, without any further adieu, I present to you my predictions for the ten categories scheduled to be announced tomorrow morning.

Best Picture

No Country for Old Men (bet)
Sweeney Todd (bet)
Juno (bet)
Michael Clayton (bet)
There Will Be Blood (bet)
Into the Wild
Atonement
American Gangster
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

Best Director

Ethan and Joel Coen, No Country for Old Men (bet)
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood (bet)
Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (bet)
Sean Penn, Into the Wild (bet)
Joe Wright, Atonement
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton (bet)
Ridley Scott, American Gangster
Jason Reitman, Juno
Tim Burton, Sweeney Todd
Sidney Lumet, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

Best Actor

Christian Bale, Rescue Dawn
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood (bet)
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd (bet)
George Clooney, Michael Clayton (bet)
Ryan Gosling, Lars and the Real Girl
James McAvoy, Atonement (bet)
Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises (bet)
Denzel Washington, American Gangster
Tom Hanks, Charlie Wilson’s War
Philip Seymour Hoffman, The Savages
Tommy Lee Jones, In the Valley of Elah
Brad Pitt, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Emile Hirsch, Into the Wild

Best Actress

Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie, Away from Her (bet)
Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose (bet)
Angelina Jolie, A Mighty Heart (bet)
Ellen Page, Juno (bet)
Helena Bonham Carter, Sweeney Todd
Jodie Foster, The Brave One
Keira Knightley, Atonement (bet)
Laura Linney, The Savages
Amy Adams, Enchanted

Best Supporting Actor

Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (bet)
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men (bet)
Tommy Lee Jones, No Country for Old Men
Josh Brolin, No Country for Old Men
Russell Crowe, American Gangster
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson’s War (bet)
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton (bet)
Max Von Sydow, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
John Travolta, Hairspray (bet)
Paul Dano, There Will Be Blood
Albert Finney, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead
Philip Bosco, The Savages

Best Supporting Actress

Cate Blanchett, I’m Not There (bet)
Catherine Keener, Into the Wild (bet)
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement (bet)
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone (bet)
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton (bet)
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Jennifer Jason Leigh, Margot at the Wedding
Kelly MacDonald, No Country for Old Men
Vanessa Redgrave, Atonement
Marisa Tomei, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

Best Original Screenplay

Diablo Cody, Juno (bet)
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton (bet)
Judd Apatow, Knocked Up (bet)
Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen, Superbad
Brad Bird, Jim Capobianco, and Jan Pinkava, Ratatouille (bet)
Tamara Jenkins, The Savages
Woody Allen, Cassandra’s Dream
Kelly Masterson, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead
Steven Knight, Eastern Promises (bet)
Todd Haynes and Oren Moverman, I’m Not There
Adrienne Shelly, Waitress

Best Adapted Screenplay

Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood (bet)
Ethan and Joel Coen, No Country for Old Men (bet)
John Logan, Sweeney Todd (bet)
Steven Zaillian, American Gangster
Christopher Hampton, Atonement (bet)
Aaron Sorkin, Charlie Wilson’s War (bet)
Andrew Dominik, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Sean Penn, Into the Wild
David Benioff, The Kite Runner

Best Foreign Language Film

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (bet)
4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (bet)
The Kite Runner (bet)
Lust, Caution (bet)
Persepolis (bet)

Best Animated Feature

Bee Movie (bet)
Ratatouille (bet)
Persepolis (bet)
The Simpsons Movie
Beowulf
Shrek the Third

Who do you expect to be nominated? Leave me a comment and let me know. I'll be back tomorrow to report on who made the cut, who I believe should have been nominated but wasn't (read: my sins of omission list), and who I expect to win.

As always, thank you for reading and I'll see you at the movies!

Vengeful Confection

2008-01-20T14:26:00.000-08:00

The genre of the musical is one to be regarded by the serious moviegoer as crabgrass in the lawn of movies. From the sickeningly over-the-top products manufactured by that glitz-ridden dream factory that was MGM in the 30s, to the audiovisual stress test that was Moulin Rouge, film history provides no shortage of irritating creations that teach us nothing about life and exist simply to give singing non-actors a chance to exhibit their “talent”. With Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Tim Burton provides us with a refreshing exception to this rule, and makes a triumphant contribution to 21st century cinema in the process.

Based on Stephen Sondheim’s 1979 stage musical of the same name, the story follows Benjamin Barker (Johnny Depp), a successful barber with a young wife and daughter. After banishing Barker to Australia on false charges, the predatory Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman) snares the poor man’s wife and eventually ruins her life. The evil arbitrator holds the daughter, Johanna (Jayne Wisener), hostage throughout her childhood. When a prison-weary Barker returns by ship years later, he embarks on an unwavering quest for vengeance, dead set on killing anyone who did him wrong. The milieu for this blood-soaked saga: 19th Century London.

The film opens with the roaring blast of an organ’s doomful toccata played to the familiar Dreamworks bumper. This music will gradually, smoothly transition into the ovation-worthy opening number, “There’s No Place Like London”. Never mind waiting for the first scene – much less the opening credits! – to create atmosphere. To paraphrase what Ingmar Bergman remarked in reference to the staggered opening credits of his film Persona, this is a story whose insistence to be told is so strong, it simply cannot wait to begin.

The sound is soon joined by the camera’s first glimpses, the lugubrious London of Dickens’ darkest chapters. In the space of two minutes and without a single word of dialogue (although relying a bit too heavily on CGI), Burton baptizes us with flickering images of a world with which we are unfamiliar. This London is not the jolly metropolis that supplied the backdrop for Peter Pan. This is a bleak, brutal world where high-reaching chimney stacks belch black clouds of smoke overhead. This is a world whose streets are littered with pickpockets lurking around dark corners; a world where starving, orphaned children turn to the bottle in despair, where the gap between the rich and the poor stretches wider than the filth-ridden Thames, and where life is cheaper than magic potions hawked by traveling swindlers.

Soon after the credits begin, the scene is greeted by rain…only this precipitation is not water. The downpour is reminiscent of Taxi Driver, another tale of revenge set against a gritty urban backdrop, where Robert De Niro’s sociopathic cabbie prophetically informs us that “someday a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets”. From this puce, viscous fluid emerges a livid, unbending line that flows steadily downward. In this single, simple image we are given the perfect metaphor for Benjamin Barker, now going by the name Sweeney Todd. Like that downward gliding blood drip, Todd walks with an unwavering, cocksure swagger that will not stop until he avenges his dear beloved bride. And may God Himself be damned, this possessed avenging angel will stop at nothing to claim his retribution.

Todd soon reconnects with the landlady at his old quarters, the homely but congenial Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter). There, she informs him of his wife’s fate while preparing, by her own admission, the worst pies in London. The egregious disregard of sanitation practices therein would make Upton Sinclair nauseous. The pair soon strike up an agreement: he will lure customers to his establishment with a shave, slash their throats with a razor, and with the aid of a cleverly installed trap door, discharge their bodies into the basement. There, Mrs. Lovett will grind the corpses into scrumptious meat pies. Business picks up and the two of them turn a handsome profit, but once a frightening secret is unveiled, tragedy strikes. To reveal any more of the plot would be a crime against humanity.

One would think that such grisly subject matter would hardly make for two hours of first class film entertainment, but in the hands of a cinemaestro like Tim Burton, a misanthropic opera that has the depth of Shakespearean tragedy and the delicious horror of Grand Guignol is born. The dark side of life is hardly new ground for Mr. Burton, but since Todd marks his first foray into the musical world, he succeeds in simultaneously working from familiar territory and challenging himself as an artist.

In Johnny Depp, Burton has found the perfect actor with whom to collaborate. This is their sixth film together and with each outing, the effort steadily improves. With Todd, their pairing has earned their alliance the right to be counted alongside the greatest actor-director partnerships in all of cinema: witness Ford-Wayne, Scorsese-De Niro, Kurosawa-Mifune, and Bergman-Von Sydow, to name just a few. The teaming of the bravura Burton with the dynamic Depp fits like a hand in a glove…or, in this case, a corpse in a coffin.

Though Todd is a musical that demands a presentational approach (nothing is duller than turning a talking play into a static talking picture), Burton skillfully exercises creative economy in translating this grand theatrical production from stage to screen. He never lets the pace become languid, but he also keeps the action from going over the top. During the magnificently executed musical numbers, for example, a less capable director would have let the urge to tear the scene down the middle with wrecking ball subtlety rip, but Burton keeps the firepower in check. It’s a slender thread to walk, and Burton never missteps.

Regarding the contributions of Mr. Burton’s production staff, technical wizardry is on display. The sets of Dante Ferretti burst with vivid richness. The subdued hues of London contrast beautifully with the expressive palate of the fantasy sequences. Not since The Last Emperor has this reviewer seen such a splendidly designed motion picture. Equally worthy of praise is the brilliant camerawork of Dariusz Wolski. A gifted cinematographer with a natural eye for composition, Wolski lovingly lights his close-ups with artistry indicative of Francis Bacon. During the strident songs, his camera dances as nimbly as Nureyev in his prime. Giving the film its importunate rhythm is the airtight editing of Chris Lebenzon. Marking his ninth collaboration with Burton, Lebenzon demonstrates his usual swiftness in handling scenes of hushed dialogue and thundering action with equal confidence.

And the music! Mr. Sondheim’s soaring melodies make a subject as gruesome as violent revenge as appetizing as the titular, mouth-watering meal in Babette’s Feast. Time and again, I wanted to stand and applaud at the end of those dynamite musical numbers…and that would have been appropriate, had I been watching a live theatrical performance. Admittedly, this reviewer has never seen Sweeney Todd on the stage. Since the film version is so magnificently good, it is doubtful that any stage version could equal – muss less surpass – this inspired creation.

Before paying due attention to the actors, a few words about approach to casting musicals must be said. When preparing for a musical, the onus is on the director to cast non-singers who can act. There are those who disagree, foolishly insisting that singing non-actors can be coached (or perhaps coaxed) into giving serviceable performances. Invariably, the results produced by this approach prove disastrous. No singer can make it to the top of his or her profession without, at the very least, learning how to act. Otherwise, their renditions would lack any grounding in emotion to which the audience would naturally connect. That being said, Mr. Burton has made the wise choice to cast this film mainly with professionally trained actors who were coached to sing. What the performers lack in musical aptitude, they more than make up for in showmanship of the grandest kind. Less talented performers could be (and often have been) aided by the invisible hand of electronic sound manipulation in the post-production phase, but in the case that point is moot.

The younger players are terrifically good, and show only the subtlest hints of sentiment in their performances. Making her screen debut, Jayne Wisener amplifies a fragile beauty in the role of Johanna. Ed Sanders shines as Toby, the lad who yearns for her love. As well, the supporting players lend able foundation to the leads. Alan Rickman oozes chilly menace as Judge Turpin, a heartless arbiter who dispenses Draconian death sentences like punitive party favors. Talented character actor Timothy Spall scores a direct hit as the pastry-faced Beadle Bamford, Turpin’s loathsome watchdog. Shaking all remnants of his Borat character from memory, Sacha Baron Cohen delightfully hams it up in a brief but memorable fine-tuned performance. As the ambitious pie shop proprietor Mrs. Lovett, Helena Bonham Carter projects an acidly comic cynicism that simultaneously chills your spine and tickles your funny bone. She projects a darkly acerbic wit through her eyes and body language that recalls Isuzu Yamada’s best work under the direction of Kurosawa.

Finally, for recognition of superb acting, kudos must be paid to Johnny Depp. In carving out his portrayal of the amiable Benjamin Barker turned bloodthirsty murderer Sweeney Todd, Mr. Depp claims responsibility for the most absorbing performance in the history of film musicals. From the subtlest twitch of his eyes to his most sweeping gestures, Depp exudes a presence more commanding than he has ever projected on screen. It is a marrow-deep performance that, like Robert De Niro’s stunning turn in Raging Bull, procures sympathy for an unappealing character.

Perhaps Sweeney Todd can best be summed up by adducing The Searchers. Before John Wayne rides off from his brother’s burial to hunt down the killers, a mournful Olive Carey implores, “Don’t let the men waste their lives in vengeance!” Unlike John Wayne’s ruthless Confederate veteran in that film, Depp’s Todd awaits a fate crueler than drifting unwanted among the sunburned landscaped for the rest of one’s days.

Please find room on your awards season dinner plate for this vengeful confection. Though this is a crowded year for great movies, Sweeney Todd must not go unseen. This is a musical that dares to be different than its countless predecessors, and succeeds brilliantly for that very reason. To miss it would be ghastly.