1943 - Casablanca

Since my last post, Kat and I have a new addition to our family. Emily was born in early November and is already melting hearts everywhere. With two little ones in the house now, finding time for this blog may be even more difficult than it has been (and it was already difficult). Indeed, I watched the movie below well over a month ago and am only now getting around to blogging about it. I have to admit, though, that the transition from one to two babies has not felt as life-altering as becoming parents for the first time. Most likely, that's simply due to the fact that we're already used to the sleep deprivation and constant cleanup of infant waste. And if having a second offspring weren't enough, we also just moved house and are dealing with all that that entails, so ... you know ... you may not hear from me again for a while...

Now, you may remember way back when I began this year of review many, many months ago that I mentioned taking the Warner Bros. VIP Studio Tour and happening upon an exhibit of their past Best Picture winners. One of those winners is indeed the victor of this current year of discussion and now that I'm ready to review that film, it's time to share the photos I took of that exhibit - one of the sheet music for As Time Goes By accompanied by composer Max Steiner's baton, and the other of a costume worn by Conrad Veidt in the film. Granted, it's probably not so thrilling just looking at the photos, so instead consider these photos as mementos of the brief moment of excitement that I experienced when I saw these items in person ... which I realise is probably even less thrilling for you...

Anyway, as I'm sure you've now inferred, our next Best Picture nominee from 1943 is the classic of classics...

Casablanca
Director:
Michael Curtiz
Screenplay:
Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Howard Koch
(based on the play "Everybody Comes to Rick's" by Murray Burnett and Joan Alison)
Starring:
Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt, Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
3 wins (including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay)

When I'm asked to name my favourite movie of all time, I always have trouble narrowing it down to just one, but I do have a few standard responses for when I'm asked for my favourite movie of a particular genre. And Casablanca is, without question, my go-to pick for favourite classic film. (Yes, I know "classic" isn't technically a singular genre, but it was a section in most video stores - and probably on most streaming sites nowadays - and it's a word with a not entirely meaningless definition that a lot of people use to categorise a subsection - or perhaps, more accurately, an era - of cinema, so stop your pedantry.)

For those living under a rock, Casablanca centres on Rick Blaine (Bogart), the owner of a cafe/club in the Moroccan city of Casablanca during World War II. He inadvertently becomes the recipient of two letters of transit, important documents for any European refugee attempting to reach the United States. This makes him a concern to the corrupt but friendly French police captain Louis Renault (Rains) and the less-than-friendly German Major Strasser (Veidt) who want to make sure a resistance fighter named Victor Laszlo (Henreid) doesn't get the chance to leave the city. To complicate matters, Rick's old flame, Ilsa Lund (Bergman), happens to be Laszlo's wife. When Victor and Ilsa show up in Rick's establishment (the first time Rick has seen Ilsa since she abruptly abandoned him in Paris many years ago), Rick finds himself torn between helping the cause and dealing with his unresolved feelings for Ilsa.

Clearly, one of the reasons Casablanca has stood the test of time is its clear and captivating story. The plot is easy to follow yet subtle enough to allow the audience to figure some things out on their own, yet another consequence of the Hays Code, no doubt. For instance, when Louis is toying with the wife of a man who needs an exit visa, the insinuations run rampant, but nobody explicitly mentions that it's all about sex.

There are undoubtedly some very serious themes - which is almost mandatory in any story that involves war and Nazis - not to mention the sincere and heartbreaking romance aspect of the story, yet there is an abundance of comic relief, all appropriate and never undercutting the film's gravity. You might even call the film a dramedy, even if that term didn't exist in 1943. During some of the most poignant moments, the film is not afraid to cut the tension with a well-timed giggle. Perhaps my favourite of these is when Strasser orders Louis to find a reason to shut down the cafe. Louis immediately demands everyone leave, exclaiming that he is shocked to hear that there is gambling taking place in the back room. At that very moment, a cashier approaches Louis and very audibly says, "Your winnings, sir," while handing him a wad of cash. Without skipping a beat, Louis thanks the man and continues carrying out his orders.

This comedy-drama quality is enhanced - or maybe even created - by the wonderful dialogue, poetic and stirring at times, and witty and amusing at others. The brilliance of these words - or at least their popularity - is confirmed by the number of memorable quotes that have entered the cultural landscape. The AFI voted six of them into their list of the 100 Greatest Movie Quotes of All Time, twice as many as any other movie. Not included in that list is the lesser-known but hilarious exchange of dialogue - and possibly my favourite such exchange in the entire history of cinema - between Carl and a German couple practicing their English. Rather than describe it here, it's probably better to just direct you to the clip.

The cast is uniformly wonderful, each one solid in their respective roles. As I mentioned in the posts on Watch on the Rhine and For Whom the Bell Tolls, I used to be flabbergasted as to how Bogart and Bergman (pictured) didn't win Best Actor and Best Actress for Casablanca. After seeing those two other films, though, I now understand why, even though I might still disagree. Both their performances here are sublime. Bogart was nominated for his. Bergman wasn't (because she was nommed for Tolls instead). Claude Rains was the other acting nominee, delivering a polished portrayal as the likable, albeit occasionally sleazy, Louis. And for my money, Peter Lorre's is the most delicious performance in the film, playing the pitiful weasel. It's short on screen time but big on character.

1943 - For Whom the Bell Tolls

It's been over six years now since I began this insane project that I initially thought would last about a year and a half. I suppose, though, if I drag this out long enough, there's at least a tiny chance that I'll make it into the cast of a future Best Picture nominee which, aside from the cool meta nature of having to review a film I'm in, would just be all kinds of awesome.

And in fact, one such opportunity may have already presented itself. Last week, I spent a morning shooting a scene opposite Annette Bening (who was absolutely lovely, I might add) for 20th Century Women, a film directed by Mike Mills. While none of his films have been nominated for the big prize just yet, you may remember that it was his Beginners for which Christopher Plummer won a well-deserved and long-awaited Oscar a few years ago. And Annette Bening is certainly Oscar bait, so it's certainly within the realms of possibility that Mills' latest film could find itself on the Best Picture shortlist. At the very least, Bening herself may be in contention for an award. Of course, judging her performance is difficult since I only have one scene to go on, and it's obviously way too early to speculate - in fact, this film may not be released until next year, making it eligible for the awards season after next, which would mean it's way, way too early to speculate - but this is Annette Bening we're talking about so you can never rule her out.

Anyway, here are my thoughts on 1943's next Best Picture contender...


For Whom the Bell Tolls
Director:
Sam Wood
Screenplay:
Dudley Nichols
(based on the novel by Ernest Hemingway)
Starring:
Gary Cooper, Ingrid Bergman, Akim Tamiroff, Arturo de Cordova, Vladimir Sokoloff, Mikhail Rasumny, Fortunio Bonanova, Eric Feldary, Victor Varconi, Katina Paxinou, Joseph Calleia

Academy Awards:
9 nominations
1 win, for Best Supporting Actress (Paxinou)

Based on the celebrated novel by Ernest Hemingway (as all the promotional material points out), For Whom the Bell Tolls tells the story of Robert Jordan (Cooper), an American soldier fighting with the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War. He is tasked with assisting a strategic assault against the Nationalists by blowing up a bridge at the precise moment of a planned air raid, and he is given three days to prepare. His local guide is Anselmo (Sokoloff) who introduces Robert to a gang of freedom fighters and Gypsies hiding out in a mountain cave. Robert enlists the help of the disparate gang, including its leader, Pablo (Tamiroff), an unpredictable drunk, and Pablo's wife, Pilar (Paxinou), a strong woman who is essentially in charge due to her husband's weakness. Robert also finds friendship and, later, romance with Maria (Bergman), a young Gypsy refugee with a horrifically sad story.

As has been discussed numerous times on this blog, films adapted from novels often suffer from a rushed feeling that is almost inherent when cramming a full-length book into two hours of screen time. Not so, however, in the case of For Whom the Bell Tolls, likely due to the source material being clear and straightforward in its own right (although, full disclosure, I've never actually read it). The tension in this story is in fact heightened by the fact that it takes its time. There is a single clear mission for the protagonist and, even if some of the details are a little murky, nothing ever feels hurried. Well, nothing except perhaps the speed with which Robert and Maria fall in love. But whirlwind romances and loves-at-first-sight are pretty much the norm for this age of Hollywood, so that hardly counts.

None of that is to say that the film lacks complexity. On the contrary. There is still plenty of nuance in For Whom the Bell Tolls, most of it found in the compelling characters. It's not always clear cut which of these people are the heroes. For instance, El Sordo clearly sides with the protagonists but the perverse pleasure he takes in his enemy's demise, laughing sadistically at their violent deaths, makes it difficult to get behind him as a hero. Conversely, Pablo commits some atrociously dickish acts, displaying a complete lack of consideration for others, yet he later experiences several crises of conscience, which elicits from us at least a tiny amount of sympathy.

As for the cast, it's a surprising display of diversity. Despite the fact that most of the characters are Spanish, the actors hail from Sweden, Greece, Hungary, Malta, Mexico and several from Russia. The only actual Spaniard is Fortunio Bonanova. Regardless of nationality, there are some truly powerful performances. Akim Tamiroff (pictured) is nothing short of superb as the emotionally erratic and conflicted Pablo. Playing his wife, Katina Paxinou also shines. Both were nominated in the supporting categories, but only Paxinou won. Then there's Ingrid Bergman, who is simply wonderful and often heartbreaking as the sweet Maria, earning herself a Best Actress nomination. In my previous post, while discussing Watch on the Rhine, I pointed out how I could never understand why Bogart didn't win Best Actor for Casablanca this year ... until I actually saw Paul Lukas' performance. In similar fashion, I always had trouble figuring out why Bergman wasn't even nominated for Casablanca. But now I understand. While her Ilsa Lund is still one of my favourite portrayals (and we'll get to that film shortly), her performance here in For Whom the Bell Tolls is genuinely captivating, so I can finally accept the omission. Of course, if the Academy just allowed a single actor to be nominated twice in the same category, then there probably wouldn't have been an issue in the first place, but rules are rules, I guess.

1943 - Watch on the Rhine

With baby number two due in about a month and a half, I'm trying to cram in as many movies as I can before spare time becomes even more scarce. So let's get straight to it.

Here's a look at another 1943 film shortlisted for Best Picture...

Watch on the Rhine
Director:
Herman Shumlin
Screenplay:
Dashiell Hammett
(based on the play by Lillian Hellman)
Starring:
Bette Davis, Paul Lukas, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Lucile Watson, Beulah Bondi, George Coulouris, Donald Woods
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
1 win, for Best Actor (Lukas)

It seems somehow appropriate to follow up The Ox-Bow Incident with this picture. Both are confronting tales that deal with serious moral issues, albeit Watch on the Rhine leans more towards the political. Anti-Fascist activist Kurt Muller (Lukas) and his American wife Sara (Davis), arrive in Washington, D.C. with their three children after leaving a devolving Europe behind. They stay in Sara's wealthy family home with her mother (Watson) and brother (Woods), who Sara hasn't seen since she left America 17 years ago. Their arrival is complicated, however, by another house guest, Teck de Brancovis (Coulouris), a slimy Nazi sympathiser who threatens to expose Kurt to his German Embassy friends.

Watch on the Rhine is another in a long list of stage play adaptations that inherently suffers from its source material's wordiness. It's slow-moving, particularly at the beginning as the plentiful characters are introduced (many of whom turn out not to be all that important to the story, anyway). And with very little action, most of the major plot points are revealed merely through shocking announcements. In spite of all that, the picture remains intensely captivating, no doubt due to its grave central issue. Consequently, in what might seem contradictory to the film's slow pace, I hardly noticed its two hours go by.

This happens to be the first time I've seen this film and it had been on my watch list for a very long time, mostly because I've always wanted to see the performance of the guy who stole Bogart's Oscar. Starting with that bias, it's easy to write off Paul Lukas (pictured) as merely adequate. After all, his character is relatively calm and not overly emotional, requiring little nuance from the actor. Ironically, however, this composure only serves to accentuate the powerful intensity that Lukas reveals in the last few scenes of the film. Consider me a convert. I'll always love Bogie's Rick, but I'm humbled to admit that Lukas' performance is also award-worthy.

As the wonderfully pompous woman of means, Lucile Watson received the film's other acting nomination, and deservedly so. She delivers her catty lines effortlessly, but later is afforded the opportunity to show a soft interior, providing a well-rounded characterisation that is a pure joy to watch. Bette Davis, too, turns in a terrific performance in what is essentially an underwritten supportive wife role (despite her top billing). I guess her peers agreed since her performance also went unrecognised by the Academy.

1943 - The Ox-Bow Incident

Well, look at me. I'm posting again only a couple of weeks after the last one. The only explanation I can come up with is that this awards year is not full to the brim with three-hour epics (I'm looking at you, 1956) so it's been a tad easier to find time to watch them. The majority of 1943's contenders are under two hours, and in fact, the following review is for the shortest of the bunch, clocking in at only 75 minutes!

Here now is our next 1943 Best Picture hopeful...

The Ox-Bow Incident
Director:
William A. Wellman
Screenplay:
Lamar Trotti
(based on the novel by Walter Van Tilburg Clark)
Starring:
Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe, Harry Morgan, Jane Darwell, Matt Briggs, Harry Davenport, Frank Conroy, Marc Lawrence
Academy Awards:
1 nomination
0 wins

I usually like to avoid spoilers in my discussions of these films, but The Ox-Bow Incident is one of those pictures that is extremely difficult to talk about without referencing the climax, so consider yourself warned: spoiler alert!

It's the late nineteenth century and Gil (Fonda) and Art (Morgan) travel into the sleepy town of Bridger's Wells, Nevada. Almost immediately, they get caught up in a local controversy as a young man frantically enters the saloon with news of Larry Kinkaid's murder by some cattle thieves. With nothing else to go on, several townsmen gather to form a posse, intent on finding the culprits and literally stringing them up, lest the law take their time and allow them to slip away, or worse, be given a fair trial. Old man Davies (Davenport) attempts to dissuade the impulsive men - and one woman (Darwell) - from taking the law into their own hands. After unsuccessfully pleading with them to at least wait for the sheriff to return from the Kinkaid ranch, the mob sets off to find their prey. Davies, along with a few other dissenters and the two out-of-towners, tag along in the hopes of talking some sense into the men bent on revenge.

After happening upon three men, including Donald Martin (Andrews), the posse ties them up, preparing to lynch them. With a few pointed questions, the stoic leader of the posse, Major Tetley (Conroy), uncovers some circumstantial evidence that appears to link these men to the murder of Kinkaid, despite their pleas of innocence. Not wanting to seem unreasonable, Tetley agrees to abide by majority rule. Only seven men oppose the hanging, so at dawn, the deed is done. As the satisfied mob heads back to town, they run into the sheriff coming the other way, who reveals the unfortunate truth that Kinkaid is not even dead and the real cattle rustlers have already been apprehended. Oops.

The wordy opening scenes move pretty fast so you've got to pay attention from the outset. And in fact, at only 75 minutes, the entire tale is told from start to finish without wasting a lot of time. It's certainly well-paced and the story is intensely driven and captivating with its singular burning question - will the posse really go through with lynching these probably innocent men? It's edge-of-your-seat stuff right up to the powerful climax.

The film boasts a great array of colourful characters, including a bunch of engaging villainous archetypes. There's the calm and obstinate military man, the crazy laughing goon, the smug vindictive lawman misusing his authority, and plenty of other meanies, too. Facing off against them are the ineffective good guys - the old and wise voice of reason, the mild-mannered man of the cloth, and the son rebelling against his father's peremptory ways.

It's common to feel minor frustration at unreasonable movie characters. I mean, who hasn't yelled at the screen during a horror film when the protagonist decides to investigate a strange noise. On her own. In the dark. In this picture, however, the behaviour of the impulsively unreasonable mob positively makes your blood boil. The main members of the posse are, quite simply, pig-headed hypocrites who believe what they want and are unconcerned with serious fact-checking. This is all the more infuriating with the knowledge that people like this do, in fact, exist ... and in great numbers. And this aggravation arises regardless of how the story concludes. Even if it turned out that the three men did indeed commit the crime, I'd still be incensed by the posse's attitude. You see, it's not about whether what you believe happens to be true. It's about whether it's reasonable to believe what you believe. And even if these guys killed Kinkaid, there wasn't enough justification for the posse to be sure of that. Certainly not so sure that they were comfortable lynching them for it. (Whew. Movies sure have the power to make you feel things...)

It's also worth pointing out the effective final scene in which Gil reads aloud a letter that Martin wrote for his wife once he accepted his inevitable death at the hands of the posse. It's a heart-breaking sequence but the reason I bring it up is the uniquely interesting framing while Gil reads the letter (pictured above). His eyes are covered by the brim of Art's hat, which I'm sure must be a metaphor for something but I can't figure out what exactly. Either way, it's a beautiful shot and very powerful.

Speaking of powerful, Henry Fonda is insanely watchable in a mostly subdued performance. Effective as his sidekick is Harry Morgan (later of M*A*S*H fame) who is inexplicably credited as Henry Morgan. Dana Andrews is compelling as the sympathetic victim. And in fact, the entire ensemble is impressive, each bringing their unique characters to life with intensity. Look out for the Wicked Witch of the West, Margaret Hamilton, as a housekeeper near the beginning.

Despite its powerful screenplay, imaginative direction and persuasive performances, the film was surprisingly only nominated for Best Picture and that's it.

1943 - Heaven Can Wait

Yes, I know. It's been ages since my last post ... again. So what's new? In that time, my episode of Maron has aired, I got cast in an Annette Bening movie, and Kat, Charlie and I spent three weeks in Australia, catching up with friends and family. Oh, and we have a new baby due in a couple of months! Which will likely destroy any chance of this project's pace speeding up.

But enough of life. Let's get back to the movies. Here's the next of 1943's contenders for Best Picture...

Heaven Can Wait
Director:
Ernst Lubitsch
Screenplay:
Samson Raphaelson
(based on the play "Birthday" by Leslie Bush-Fekete)
Starring:
Gene Tierney, Don Ameche, Charles Coburn, Marjorie Main, Laird Cregar, Spring Byington, Allyn Joslyn, Eugene Pallette
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
0 wins

Upon his death, Henry Van Cleve (Ameche) decides to skip the Pearly Gates and head downstairs first, convinced that Hell is where he belongs. The Devil (Cregar), who seems surprisingly amiable, is skeptical of Henry's claims of leading a terrible life and so Henry begins to tell his life's story. He relates tales from every decade or so, covering his precocious childhood and his early womanizing through to his rocky relationship with Martha (Tierney) and his twilight years.

The opening scene of Heaven Can Wait is charming in a silly sort of way - a recently deceased man engages in civil conversation with the Devil - which erroneously sets up the film to have a slightly twisted view of reality. I say 'erroneously' because, while what follows is quirky with plenty of comic relief, there is no more offbeat supernatural humour until the conclusion. The scenes in Hell are merely bookends to what is essentially a sincere, albeit witty, story of one man's life.

The first couple of sequences feel a little light on substance. Still funny, but light and fluffy. Sort of a 1940s version of one of Tom Hanks' early comedies. But once Henry and Martha meet, things become a bit more compelling, even though much of the action is not particularly believable. Then again, it's a rom-com, so I suppose you just have to accept that people fall in love at first sight and elope at the drop of a hat. (You also have to set aside the latent misogyny in a storyline that is essentially a man badgering a woman until she agrees she's in love with him. Sign of the times, I guess.)

Long and wordy scenes fill up the film's almost two hours, reminding us that it was based on a play. However, the banter is delightful so it's enjoyable to watch. And for a film that attempts to cram an entire lifespan into one story, Heaven Can Wait feels very appropriately paced. It's so easy for films of this nature to rush through certain ages, but here, it's not too fast and it's not too slow. We spend a decent amount of time in each age bracket witnessing certain milestones before skipping ten years to the next one, allowing for a feeling of truly knowing this man. By the end of his life, we've seen Henry and those around him age so slowly that it is genuinely a moving experience.

As the meant-to-be lovers, Don Ameche and Gene Tierney (pictured together) have great chemistry, making it easy to accept them as lifelong partners. Tierney's comic delivery, however, leaves a little to be desired. Not to worry, though, because Ameche (over 40 years before his Oscar win for Cocoon) is incredibly engaging as the initially pompous cad with a heart of gold. Charles Coburn also offers up some grand comic relief as Grandpapa. Not too surprisingly, though, the film didn't receive any acting nominations. Instead, its three nods came for Ernst Lubitsch's direction, Edward Cronjager's cinematography and, of course, the picture itself.

1943 - In Which We Serve

For as long as I can remember, I've loved hearing behind-the-scenes stories about movie production, whether in books or documentaries or actual behind-the-scenes tours. So with delight, Kat and I joined a visiting friend recently to take the Warner Bros. VIP Studio Tour in nearby Burbank. The Warner Bros. lot has a lot of history and I always enjoy visiting backlots. There's just something about the fake buildings that fills me with a sense of awe and wonder. The tour also included a stop at the Warner Bros. Museum, which housed special exhibits of the Batman and Harry Potter franchises. But it was the tiny corner dedicated to Warner's past Best Picture winners that had me fascinated. Hint: this blog's current year of review resulted in a win for Warner Bros. so I have a little treat for you when I get to reviewing that picture.

For now, let's have a look at a British entry in 1943's Best Picture race...

In Which We Serve
Director:
Noël Coward and David Lean
Screenplay:
Noël Coward
Starring:
Noël Coward, John Mills, Celia Johnson, Kay Walsh, Bernard Miles
Academy Awards:
2 nominations
0 wins

As the opening narration informs us, this is the story of a ship. Specifically, it's the story of the HMS Torrin, a British destroyer during World War II that is attacked and sunk by German aircraft bombers. As the survivors, including Captain Kinross (Coward), stay afloat in a lifeboat enduring further aerial gunfire, they share tales of their own experiences during the war and reminisce about the history of the Torrin.

The overt patriotism of In Which We Serve is a little off-putting, perhaps only because it's something one would expect from an American military film, not a British one. It's a propaganda film, no question. The sailors love their ship more than their wives, and the wives are pretty much okay with that. It's all for king and country. And the enemy is nothing short of pure evil. Granted, the enemy are the Nazis in this case, so it's hard to argue that point, but from a purely narrative standpoint, it's a detriment to have no single personification of the enemy. We see Nazi planes and Nazi ships, but we almost never see an actual Nazi, which I understand is part of the propaganda to dehumanise the enemy, but all good screenwriting how-to books will tell you that you have to include an antagonist. Even if your hero's main enemy is a corporation or organisation, it's far more effective to have an identifiable character to serve as its representative, rather than leave your hero to fight a nebulous enemy.

I also have to admit that I had some trouble following the action. The plot is somewhat episodic and it is sometimes difficult to figure out who's who, partly because there are so many sailors to keep track of, but also because they're all wearing the same thing! Stupid sailor's uniforms. So, during a flashback, when we see someone in civilian clothes, it takes a little time to recognise exactly who it is. And speaking of the myriad flashbacks, is this perhaps the genesis of the cliched wavy flashback transition? To a modern audience, the watery effect may seem cheesy, but in this instance, I suppose it couldn't be more appropriate.

Not only did Noël Coward (pictured) write, co-direct and star in the movie, but like Chaplin before him and Eastwood after him, he also composed the film's score. So there's no denying this is Coward's baby. As the captain of the ship, his is not your average melodramatic performance of the 1940s. In fact, it could be argued that he goes too far in the opposite direction, making Captain Kinross oddly understated. Playing his wife, Celia Johnson stands out with a charmingly natural portrayal of a woman with bittersweet feelings about her husband's job. And look out for a young Richard Attenborough in his film debut.

In Which We Serve also has a rare distinction in Oscar history, receiving recognition in two separate awards years. It received a non-competitive Honorary Achievement award at the 1942 Oscars, since that was the year it was released in its native UK. Then, one year later, it was nominated for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay, after having its qualifying US theatrical release.

1943 - Madame Curie

Well, I mentioned the possibility of having to change the next year of review and, indeed, circumstances now require that I do just that. My plan to see The Apartment at the TCM Classic Film Festival was thwarted. It seems too many festival pass holders had the same idea so there was no room for any extras. Fortunately, the festival screens several movies at once, so Kat and I hopped over to one of the smaller venues instead to catch another Best Picture nominee from a different year.

So, we'll come back to 1960 another time, but for now, we begin our review of the Academy's nominated films of 1943...

Madame Curie
Director:
Mervyn LeRoy
Screenplay:
Paul Osborn and Paul H. Rameau
(based on the book by Eve Curie)
Starring:
Greer Garson, Walter Pidgeon, Henry Travers, Albert Bassermann, Robert Walker, C. Aubrey Smith, Dame May Whitty, Victor Francen, Elsa Bassermann, Reginald Owen, Van Johnson, Margaret O'Brien
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
0 wins

In late 19th century Paris, Marie Sklodowska (Garson) is completing her doctorate at the Sorbonne and is in need of some lab space. When she is introduced to physicist Pierre Curie (Pidgeon), he agrees for her to work alongside him. The two share a love of science, which soon turns into a love of each other. Together, they run experiments in order to discover what Marie theorises is a new previously unknown radioactive element.

As a science enthusiast, I'm not deterred by films set in academia but I imagine that such scientific themes could be uninteresting for some. Madame Curie, however, cleverly borrows from other less boring genres to create an engaging story in which science is really just the backdrop. First, the picture is a somewhat traditional boy-meets-girl romance with fleeting glances and bashful repartee. Then, it's a suspense drama as the two lovebird scientists attempt to discover a new mysterious element.

As such, the science is occasionally portrayed in a simple manner, which I suppose is a necessity given the rather complex principles involved. But by incorporating those aforementioned genres, it's always compelling. So when Pierre and Marie have their first in-depth scientific discourse, the concepts they discuss may be difficult for a lay audience to comprehend, but the mutual fondness they both have for chemistry is clear and we watch as the sparks fly. Or when Marie demonstrates her investigation of pitchblende to Pierre by testing its composition in an electrometer, it's a struggle to understand what's actually going on in scientific terms, but the suspense permeating the scene as the experiment unfolds is truly captivating.

Then again, perhaps this method of pushing the science into the background goes a little too far when, on occasion, the renowned scientists appear to miss the absolute obvious. They spend years breaking down the same eight tons of pitchblende in the hopes of extracting the elusive element that they've now named radium. But in a fit of incompetence, they dismiss the stain that remains in their mortar after all the other elements have been removed. Um, maybe the stain is the radium? To be fair, later that night, they return to the lab and stare excitedly at the glowing radiation (pictured), but it took them long enough to figure it out. (By the way, I think I now know what's in that briefcase in Pulp Fiction.)

This is the 1940s so there is definitely some melodramatic acting on display - probably a result of the melodramatic dialogue - but it isn't constant and it nonetheless remains fun and engaging. Greer Garson is fantastic in the title role, which earned her a Best Actress nomination from the Academy. In opposition to the out-dated stereotypes during her era, Marie Curie is portrayed as supremely intelligent and confident, a genuinely strong role model. As her husband and collaborator, Walter Pidgeon - who, incidentally, also played Garson's husband in the previous year's Best Picture winner Mrs. Miniver - also received recognition in the Best Actor category for a droll performance of a neurotic but affable man. Also of note is Robert Walker in a funny and bright role as Pierre's lab assistant. And Henry Travers and Dame May Whitty both deliver memorably witty turns as Pierre's parents. Interestingly, Travers and Whitty, along with Reginald Owen, also appeared in Mrs. Miniver. That's no less than five principal actors in common with Madame Curie. Quite the repertory company.

Best Picture of 1996

In sharp contrast to the last year of review, this one has gone from first review to verdict in under two weeks. I haven't managed that in a very long time. I can't guarantee this will last, but let's continue to ride the wave, shall we? Here now are my thoughts on these five fine films.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1996 are:

• The English Patient
• Fargo
• Jerry Maguire
• Secrets and Lies
• Shine

Interestingly, four of these pictures are independent movies, produced outside of the studio system. That correlates well with the fact that many of them were helmed by writer/directors. I don't have official statistics at hand, but I suspect it's relatively unusual for 80% of the nominees to fit that category. Additionally, all five pictures feature some brilliant ensemble acting, so all in all, it's a tough bunch to separate.

I genuinely liked each of these films so there's no sense in naming a least favourite. But in order to make my way to a most favourite, I suppose I have to eliminate something first. That honour goes to Shine, but as I said, it's not because I didn't like it. I just didn't like it as much as I liked the others. I saw both The English Patient and Secrets and Lies when they were first released, and I don't think early-20s me appreciated them then as much as pushing-40 me did the second time around. Nonetheless, they too will be set aside for the purposes of this verdict.

Now that I've unpatriotically excluded the Australian and British films, I'm left with two American films, either of which could easily stand as my favourite. As I entered into this year of review, I fully expected that Jerry Maguire would win out, based on my prior fondness for the polished, inspirational and fun movie. And while that fondness has not diminished, the quirkiness of Fargo just tickled my fancy a tad more this time around, along with its fantastic cast and captivating story. Hence, Fargo officially becomes my favourite Best Picture nominee from 1996.

Best Picture of 1996
Academy's choice: The English Patient	Matt's choice: Fargo

Your choice:

Chime in with your favourite in the poll above or the comments below. Next up, we again move to a year that has been chosen exclusively due to the convenience of a local screening. The TCM Classic Film Festival has just begun here in Los Angeles and there are numerous Best Picture nominees on offer. The current plan is to attend a screening of The Apartment this weekend at the world-famous Grauman's Chinese Theatre, with Shirley MacLaine in attendance, so 1960 will be our next year of review.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1960 are:

• The Alamo
• The Apartment
• Elmer Gantry
• Sons and Lovers
• The Sundowners

Of course, this is all dependent on me getting in to the screening. Since I don't want to fork out the hundreds and hundreds of dollars for a festival pass, I'll be taking a chance on buying an individual ticket on the day of the screening. So don't be surprised if the next year of review ends up being something else entirely...

1996 - Secrets and Lies

After an early morning trip to the airport, Kat and Charlie are back home, with my in-laws in tow. As everyone attempts to recover from their jet lag - and at 13 months, Charlie doesn't know if it's day or night, the poor little guy - I managed to write up my thoughts on the last film of this year of review.

Our final contender for the 1996 Best Picture prize is...

Secrets and Lies
Director:
Mike Leigh
Screenplay:
Mike Leigh
Starring:
Timothy Spall, Brenda Blethyn, Phyllis Logan, Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Claire Rushbrook
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

After her adopted mother passes away, London optometrist Hortense Cumberbatch (Jean-Baptiste) - probably not related to Benedict - decides to track down her birth mother. As a black woman, she is understandably surprised to discover that her mother is Cynthia Purley (Blethyn), a white woman who, despite a good heart, has the smarts and social graces of a small puppy. Cynthia and Hortense slowly develop a camaraderie but Cynthia baulks at introducing Hortense to her other daughter, Roxanne (Rushbrook), an ungrateful council worker. Eventually, however, Cynthia invites Hortense to a family gathering, hosted by her somewhat estranged brother, portrait photographer Maurice (Spall), and his wife Monica (Logan). It is at this soiree that the dysfunctional family's secrets and lies are finally exposed.

At first, Secrets and Lies comes across a little like a soap opera, and given the title, that's perhaps appropriate. The secrets and lies in this family are indeed of soap opera quality: life-changing and nothing less. But once you accept each character's predicament, the shades of soap opera fade away and you're left with quite an emotional ride. Writer/director Mike Leigh allows his audience to really absorb these people's lives by keeping an easy pace and often utilising lengthy and static shots in which the action (or mere dialogue, as the case may be) plays out in all its voyeuristic glory. The outdoor barbecue scene is particularly fascinating. There's tension, sure, which has been set up by the prior circumstances, but for the most part, the scene is just a seeming melange of very real and mundane conversations. It's captivating fly-on-the-wall stuff.

Due to the single-shot style, the entire picture would fall apart if the actors weren't engaging, but thankfully, the ensemble here is genuinely superb, working very well off each other. At the centre is a beautifully subdued performance by Timothy Spall (pictured), who many will recognise as Peter Pettigrew, but I first noticed him in a sarcastically memorable guest role in BBC's sci-fi sitcom Red Dwarf, clearly showing his comedic chops are on par with his dramatic ability. As a woman trying to get some answers, Marianne Jean-Baptiste is intelligent and vulnerable, earning herself a Best Supporting Actress nod in the process. And yes, that's Downton Abbey's Mrs. Hughes, Phyllis Logan, turning in a strong performance as Spall's uptight wife. Stealing the show, though, is Brenda Blethyn with a powerhouse portrayal that could so easily have fallen into caricature. Cynthia is larger than life, for sure, but Blethyn roots her in reality, wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Secrets and Lies also received nominations for Mike Leigh's direction and screenplay, but sadly, the film walked away without any Oscars at all.

1996 - The English Patient

After three weeks away in Australia, my darling wife and child return to LA on Monday. While that will do wonders for my emotional well-being, I suspect it will also mean an end to this notable streak in blog posts. I'll cram one more movie in before they return, but I may not get a chance to write about it immediately. We shall see...

The Academy's choice is up next in our look at the Best Picture nominees of 1996...

The English Patient
Director:
Anthony Minghella
Screenplay:
Anthony Minghella
(based on the novel by Michael Ondaatje)
Starring:
Ralph Fiennes, Juliette Binoche, Willem Dafoe, Kristin Scott Thomas, Naveen Andrews, Colin Firth, Julian Wadham, Jürgen Prochnow, Kevin Whately
Academy Awards:
12 nominations
9 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Supporting Actress (Binoche)

In the war-torn Italian countryside near the end of World War II, nurse Hana (Binoche) tends to a severe burn victim (Fiennes) with an English accent and a horrible case of amnesia. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn that our English patient is actually László de Almásy, a Hungarian cartographer who was helping to map the Sahara for the Royal Geographical Society in the months leading up to the war. The expedition is joined by English couple Geoffrey and Katharine Clifton (Firth and Scott Thomas), but during one of Geoffrey's many absences, Almásy and Katharine begin an affair, which to say the least, causes emotions to run high for everyone involved.

It's not difficult to understand why the Academy bestowed its top honour on The English Patient. It's exactly the sort of epic they love: romance, danger, sweeping landscapes. With a tight script, spectacular visuals and expressive performances, it truly is an example of filmmaking at its finest. That said, it may not be to everyone's taste. While it would be hard to ignore the extraordinary artistry that writer/director Anthony Minghella has crafted, I could certainly understand if it didn't strike a chord with all who see it. Maybe I'm even talking about myself here. I'd be hard pressed to pinpoint why exactly, but I can't shake the feeling that I didn't love this film as much as I should have, considering what a brilliant accomplishment it is. Perhaps it's just a matter of taste, but even that seems unfair somehow because I really don't have anything bad to say about the film. It's almost as if I'm trying to convince myself that I didn't like it, when the truth of it is that I actually found it incredibly entertaining on almost every level. Human brains are fickle indeed.

As potential validation of its brilliance, it swept the awards on Oscar night, winning nine in total. Not too surprising since its costume and set design featured both period and foreign elements, two predictors of Oscar success. And where Fargo's cinematography was assisted by blankets of white snow, The English Patient exploits its blankets of yellow sand to exquisite advantage.

The cast, too, are exceptional, many of them using this film as a stepping stone to even greater things. Ralph Fiennes is solid as the charming yet stubborn adventurer who, when suffering from third-degree burns, looks uncannily like another heavily made-up Fiennes character. I also immensely enjoyed Kristin Scott Thomas, who is very fluid and available as the emotionally torn lover. Earning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, Juliette Binoche has the purest heart in the film, although there was perhaps one too many sudden moments of bursting into tears. The always-watchable Colin Firth is as affable as ever (until his final moments, of course). And that's a pre-Lost Naveen Andrews (pictured) as the shirtless, luscious-haired bomb defuser.

1996 - Fargo

Last night, I had the pleasure of attending a pub trivia night here in Los Angeles. Pub trivia is a staple of weeknight life in Australia and, in fact, I was even a pub trivia host for quite some time back home, but a mixture of a scarcity of time and a scarcity of venues hosting such events has meant I haven't been to one in rather a long time. I'd like to think my movie knowledge helped our team to second place, although I let my teammates down when I represented them in the speed round and failed under pressure to name a movie beginning with the letter N. The shame.

Now, let's take a look at another Best Picture contender from 1996...

Fargo
Director:
Joel Coen
Screenplay:
Ethan & Joel Coen
Starring:
Frances McDormand, William H. Macy, Steve Buscemi, Harve Presnell, Peter Stormare, John Carroll Lynch
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
2 wins, including Best Actress (McDormand) and Best Original Screenplay

Car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (Macy) hatches a plan to end his financial woes by having his wife kidnapped and pocketing the ransom money that his father-in-law, Wade (Presnell), will be forced to fork out. Jerry hires unlikely criminal duo Carl and Gaear (Buscemi and Stormare) to carry out the deed but things go awry when Gaear goes rogue and shoots a state trooper and two passersby on a barren country road outside of Brainerd, Minnesota. While Jerry and the kidnappers bicker over how to sort out the mess, Brainerd's police chief, Marge Gunderson (McDormand), takes charge of the investigation into the multiple homicides and her congenial persistence soon gives Jerry cause for major concern.

Fargo opens with a caption informing us that, while the names have been changed, everything that is about to occur actually happened. I don't know whether it was because of the film's current well-known status in pop culture or because of the Coen brothers' reputation for offbeat stories or maybe it was just because I'd seen it before, but I didn't trust that caption for a second. A true story? Really? Turns out my disbelief is only partially justified. The Coens did indeed grab their inspiration from a real-life wood chipper incident and used an amalgam of other criminal events, but the specifics of the plot and the idiosyncrasies of character are entirely fictional.

Reportedly, they inserted the opening caption in order to manipulate the audience into accepting the somewhat far-fetched elements of the story. For me, however, I'll willingly accept any plot detail, whether it's appropriated from reality or not, as long as it's within the film's verisimilitude. And Fargo's verisimilitude is never broken. Yes, these events are implausible and occasionally coincidental, but all are set up convincingly and are always engaging. In fact, the plot is excitingly intricate with many captivating and unpredictable twists and turns that I simply didn't even care about the authenticity of it all. It's just brilliant story-telling, plain and simple, irrespective of whether it really happened or not.

The film's style is unmistakably Coen brothers, a curious blend of whimsy and intrigue, culminating in that tense climactic (and now iconic) wood chipper scene. And in keeping with that kooky style, Fargo features a barrage of mildly vexing regional accents, most of them coupled with Minnesota nice, a sort of perpetual politeness that lends a pleasing air of incongruity to an otherwise seedy crime story. The experience is enhanced further by some decidedly beautiful cinematography by frequent Coen-collaborator Roger Deakins, who makes the snowy Minnesotan landscapes seem like another character all its own. The Academy shortlisted him for his work on this film, but sadly he has never won a golden statue, despite a total of 10 nominations over the years, five of them for Coen brothers films.

A magnificent cast is yet another element contributing to Fargo's quirky atmosphere. Steve Buscemi is perfectly cast as Carl, the inept yet indignant criminal who is regularly described as generally odd-looking.
Earning an Oscar for Best Actress, Frances McDormand delivers an appealing portrayal of a small-town police chief. Marge may seem simple and straightforward on the surface, but McDormand augments that unassuming nature with a deep sense of urgency and determination when required. My favourite, though, is William H. Macy (pictured) as the desperate and misguided car salesman turned wannabe mastermind criminal. Macy inhabits Jerry's nervous disposition to naturalistic perfection. His sketchy smiles attempt to cover up his internal struggle, but the cracks are showing and it is delightful to watch.

1996 - Shine

It's been a few months now since I moved to Los Angeles and I've already landed my first TV role, so I'm happy to conclude it was a wise move. About a month ago, I shot a couple of scenes for Marc Maron's self-titled sitcom on IFC. Season three begins in May, so I don't know exactly yet when my episode will air, but watch this space.

Next up in 1996's battle for Best Picture...

Shine
Director:
Scott Hicks
Screenplay:
Jan Sardi
Starring:
Geoffrey Rush, Noah Taylor, Armin Mueller-Stahl, John Gielgud, Lynn Redgrave
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
1 win, for Best Actor (Rush)

The true story of a unique man, Shine explores the life of pianist David Helfgott, from young boy to adolescent (Taylor) to maladjusted adult (Rush). The child of immigrant parents, Helfgott was taught piano at a young age by his father, Peter (Mueller-Stahl), who also imparted an intense passion for winning at all costs. As a teenager, David wins a prestigious music competition and is invited to study in America, but his father cruelly denies him this opportunity. Later, he is offered a scholarship to the Royal College of Music in London, but this time, Helfgott Senior's protestations are ignored and David pursues his musical dreams. The pressure turns out to be too much, however, when after successfully performing Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3, a piece renowned for its high degree of difficulty, David suffers a mental breakdown and winds up under psychiatric care. Years later, he is coaxed into returning to play in public, his impetus still to make his father proud.

Shine is a delicate portrait of an eccentric and troubled man. At first, though, it's hard not to wonder how strangers find him so endearing. He's obviously unpredictable and more than a little bit grabby. While we assume he's harmless as we watch in the context of a motion picture, I imagine if I were to actually come across someone so invasive of my personal space, my first reaction would probably not be to welcome him with open arms. Nonetheless, the inappropriate touching is easily brushed aside, allowing us to be enchanted by his enthusiasm for life.

A brilliant collaboration between director Scott Hicks and cinematographer Geoffrey Simpson creates some superb imagery that may seem gratuitously artistic, but on deeper examination, serves to represent a different perspective of the world. Aren't cinematic metaphors wonderful? The script uses less of a metaphoric style and, although it is interesting and well-structured, suffers a little from occasional blatant exposition. Some of the characters are also unfortunately written in a somewhat one-dimensional way. David's father is perhaps the biggest stereotype. He's a man who loves his son so much that he refuses to give him any independence, evidenced by indignant cries of "I know what's best!"

In performance, though, Peter Helfgott is spectacularly watchable, thanks to a very nuanced and passionate performance by Armin Mueller-Stahl, Oscar nominated for the role. Lynn Redgrave is also worthy of mention, delivering a believable portrayal of a woman who, on the page, seems almost unbelievable. I mean, how does a sane woman fall in love with a man who seems incapable of true emotional connection? But Redgrave's tenderness makes it work. Noah Taylor as the adolescent David is called upon to show his range, beginning as merely quirky and innocent, but eventually becoming manic and frenzied, before handing the baton to Geoffrey Rush (pictured). And Rush is nothing short of phenomenal, a performance worthy of the Best Actor Oscar that he won. It may seem like yet another case of a technical performance of a disabled person winning the Oscar, but despite the affectations, Rush's portrayal is natural and accessible, which is no mean feat, considering the character he's playing is anything but. On top of that, Rush performed all the piano-playing himself and he's spectacular, at least to my mildly musical ears. His rendition of Rimsky-Korsakov's The Flight of the Bumblebee is positively chilling.

1996 - Jerry Maguire

The streak continues. Let's move right along now to our next year of review. I kicked it off last night by visiting the New Beverly Cinema, a brilliant revival movie house here in Los Angeles that is every cinema aficionado's dream. Before the film, I was treated to trailers of some of the other 90s films screening later in the month, as well as a teaser featurette for the 1966 comedy Not With My Wife, You Don't!, starring Tony Curtis, Virna Lisi and George C. Scott. I have a feeling I will make my way back to this cinema again.

The first subject in our look at the 1996 Best Picture contest is...

Jerry Maguire

Director:

Cameron Crowe

Screenplay:

Cameron Crowe

Starring:

Tom Cruise, Cuba Gooding, Jr., Renee Zellweger, Kelly Preston, Jerry O'Connell, Jay Mohr, Bonnie Hunt, Regina King, Jonathan Lipnicki

Academy Awards:

5 nominations

1 win, for Best Supporting Actor (Gooding)

Hard-working sports agent Jerry Maguire (Cruise) grows a conscience seemingly overnight and decides that his industry needs to start treating their clients less like money-making machines and more like close friends. He impulsively writes a lengthy mission statement for his agency and prints enough copies for everyone in the office. Unsurprisingly, upper management disapproves of his "fewer clients, less money" approach to business and summarily fires him. In a failed attempt to bring all his clients with him to start a new firm, he leaves the office with just one remaining client, football wide receiver Rod Tidwell (Gooding). He is joined by Dorothy from accounts (Zellweger), who, inspired by Jerry's brave outspokenness, throws caution to the wind and walks out with him. While the two struggle to keep the new company afloat, they also struggle to navigate through their burgeoning romance.

A modern classic, Jerry Maguire feels comfortable and familiar. Though, I guess to be fair, I've seen it a number of times before, so it's not entirely surprising that it's familiar to me. And sure, it's a little sentimental and manipulative and Hollywood, but it's sentimental and manipulative and Hollywood in exactly the way that I find entertaining. There's a reason inspirational music is layered on top of romantic turning points. It makes you feel stuff. And Jerry Maguire made me feel stuff, I'm not ashamed to admit it. Underneath it all, the film explores that incredibly accessible theme of not quite knowing what you want but knowing that you want do something great.

It's hard to think of another film in recent history with as many well-known lines. In fact, not since Casablanca has one film spawned such an abundance of quotable quotes that have entered the pop culture lexicon. "You complete me." "Help me help you." "The key to this business is personal relationships." "You are my ambassador of kwan." And, of course, the two that found their way into the AFI's 100 Greatest Movie Quotes, "You had me at hello," and "Show me the money!" That last one features in what is possibly the most famous scene of the movie, a sequence so endearing and electrifying that it's almost impossible not to smile while experiencing it.

Not only are Cameron Crowe's direction and Oscar-nominated screenplay on point, but he has also assembled a superb cast. With his used car salesman smile, I often feel Tom Cruise comes across as superficial, but as a sports agent, his mild insincerity seems fitting and earned him a Best Actor nomination. In her breakout role, Renee Zellweger nails her portrayal of the cute and insecure Dorothy. Bonnie Hunt is both droll and genuine as Dorothy's concerned sister. Little Jonathan Lipnicki is beyond adorable with his infectious smile. Jay Mohr is perfectly smarmy and slimy. And Beau Bridges is excellent in an uncredited role as the bold father to a rising football star. But the two standouts among this incredible ensemble are Regina King and Cuba Gooding, Jr (pictured). They display brilliant chemistry together and both deliver knockout individual performances. King is amazingly honest as the strong yet vulnerable football wife. And Gooding won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for the sort of role that doesn't often get recognised with awards. Rod Tidwell is brash and showy, but Gooding balances Rod's cockiness with a genuine sensitivity that is on beautiful display during several heart-to-hearts with Jerry. Even his famed acceptance speech seemed in line with the character for which he won. It was both full of heart and full of you-can't-play-me-off-stage-with-your-orchestral-music.

Best Picture of 1987

I believe I've yet again broken the record for the longest period between the first review and the verdict. At around nine months, reviewing 1987's Best Picture nominees has certainly taken a long time, all the more shameful considering it's not even a 10-nominee year. But let's wrap it up now with my thoughts on which film should have taken home the trophy.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1987 are:

• Broadcast News
• Fatal Attraction
• Hope and Glory
• The Last Emperor
• Moonstruck

Quite an eclectic bunch. Period war films and epic biopics are stalwart genres for the Academy, but this year also saw the poorly represented comedies and psychological thrillers have their shot at the limelight.

It will be no surprise to anyone who read my previous review that Hope and Glory is being eliminated from the running first. Contrived in script and performance, it did not appeal to me at all. Beyond that, it's a much tougher decision. Moonstruck is incredibly charming and funny with some beautifully touching moments, but the crazy performance by Nicolas Cage precludes me from naming it my favourite. In a similar fashion, The Last Emperor is sumptuous in design, easily the most visually stunning of the five, but a slightly aloof script means I'll set it aside as well.

That leaves two films that I enjoyed immensely. Broadcast News is captivating and moving with a cheeky sense of humour. However, for a completely different reason, Fatal Attraction affected me more. Its thrills may be old tricks, but they're still extremely effective and what more can we ask of cinema than to be affected emotionally, whether it be sadness, joy, or in this case, nervous apprehension bordering on terror. Simply entertainment. Thus, I now officially proclaim Fatal Attraction as my favourite Best Picture nominee from 1987.

Best Picture of 1987
Academy's choice: The Last Emperor	Matt's choice: Fatal Attraction

Your choice:

Let me know what you think of 1987's nominees in the comments and/or by voting in the poll above. Meanwhile, as I attempt to continue my viewing streak, I've decided on the next year of review based on the fact that Jerry Maguire is playing at the New Beverly Cinema tonight. So, we now move to 1996's Best Picture contenders, a nice bunch of mostly independent flicks.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1996 are:

• The English Patient
• Fargo
• Jerry Maguire
• Secrets and Lies
• Shine

Stay tuned...

1987 - Hope and Glory

Well, this is a rarity. Two posts in two days! That hasn't happened since the first year of this blog. But rather than question it, let's just see how long this renewed enthusiasm lasts.

We now take a look at the final nominee in 1987's battle for Best Picture...

Hope and Glory
Director:
John Boorman
Screenplay:
John Boorman
Starring:
Sebastian Rice-Edwards, Sarah Miles, David Hayman, Geraldine Muir, Sammi Davis, Susan Wooldridge, Derrick O'Connor, Ian Bannen
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

Hope and Glory is the story of family life during wartime, as seen through the eyes of a young boy, Billy Rohan (Rice-Edwards). When World War II reaches suburban London, Billy's father (Hayman) enlists to serve his country, leaving Billy and his mother (Miles) and two sisters (Muir & Davis) to survive the constant threat of air raids. Billy occupies himself with daily strolls through the rubble in his street, collecting shrapnel from the previous night's shelling, and soon he joins a gang of like-minded boys his age, although he never quite fits in.

It's not often that I really don't like a movie, but Hope and Glory didn't grab me at all. The subject matter seemed interesting enough, and indeed, I've enjoyed many coming-of-age war films, but the contrivances and cliches, particularly from the laboured performances, left me with little to which I could relate. Everything just felt so staged and fake, which is surprising since this is often cited as writer/director John Boorman's most personal film.

The picture received many favourable reviews and accolades, and it appears to be considered somewhat of a classic, so perhaps I'm missing something, but what confuses me the most are references to this film as a comedy. Granted, there are amusing moments - or at least, attempts at humour - but it honestly hadn't occurred to me while I was watching it that this could be categorised as comedy. Much of the style is simply overwrought for my taste, be it intended as comedy or otherwise. The only time it seemed vaguely appropriate was during the few short fantasy sequences when Billy imagines himself involved in the war. But the impact of these scenes is severely lessened due to the rest of the film being played in a similar exaggerated style. It's almost as if Boorman created a film in the style of 1940s cinema, with its melodramatic acting and overly sentimental dialogue, but sadly, I suspect that was unintentional. Which is a shame because if it had been made in the 1940s, I doubt I would have judged it as harshly. I'm not sure what that says about my cinematic expectations.

While I found it difficult to relate to much of the emotional content, at least I found one familiar topic to which I could wax nostalgic - backyard cricket. I may not have been able to bowl a googly at Billy's age but the reference to the six-and-out rule did make me smile. It also reminded me how much I miss watching cricket. I mean, the bloody World Cup is on right now and I have to be satisfied receiving score updates on my phone because I can't watch a single game in this country unless I want to pay $99 a month for the privilege. But I digress...

Hope and Glory didn't receive any acting nominations, so at least I agree with the Academy on that. I can forgive the child actors for being a little hammy, but the other members of the cast get no such mercy. Sarah Miles cries too quickly and laughs too loudly. Ian Bannen merely plays the idea of a crotchety old man, without any real truthfulness. Derrick O'Connor is probably the only actor who manages to avoid histrionics, but unfortunately it's not enough to make us forget the rest of the performances.

I think it's fair to say I did not care for this film.