1983 - Terms of Endearment

My time in LA is nearing an end, though I hope to sneak in at least one more review before I travel back to Sydney next week. In fact, maybe I can even watch two films in quick succession to round out this year of review in less than three weeks, something I haven't done in almost 10 years. That sounds like a challenge...

Our next 1983 Best Picture Oscar nominee is...


Terms of Endearment
Director:
James L. Brooks
Screenplay:
James L. Brooks
(based on the novel by Larry McMurtry)
Starring:
Debra Winger, Shirley MacLaine, Jack Nicholson, Danny De Vito, Jeff Daniels, John Lithgow, Lisa Hart Carroll Academy Awards:
11 nominations
5 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress (MacLaine), Best Supporting Actor (Nicholson)

After her father dies, flighty Emma Greenway (Winger) struggles to deal with her stuffy and controlling mother Aurora (MacLaine) as they live together in suburban Houston. However, once she's old enough, Emma moves out to marry Flap (Daniels), an indolent ladies' man of whom Aurora wholeheartedly disapproves. She objects even further when the couple move to Iowa for Flap's work.

After many years, Emma and Flap have three children and their marriage is far from rosy. Emma suspects Flap is having an affair, so she begins one herself with mild-mannered Sam (Lithgow). Meanwhile, Aurora has begun an unlikely relationship of her own with her next-door neighbour, Garrett (Nicholson), a gregarious former astronaut who helps to bring Aurora out of her sanctimonious shell. Through it all, despite their volatile relationship, Emma and Aurora remain close ... until tragedy strikes. (Get your tissues ready.)

With a title like Terms of Endearment, you can't be surprised that this film is sentimental. However, it skilfully avoids becoming bogged down in clichés and instead presents a very funny and, dare I say it, endearing story that feels naturally tender, not overly saccharine. Similar to the praise I heaped on The Big Chill, it's the characters (and the performances) that make Terms of Endearment so captivating. Each one is a fully realised human being with fears and fantasies and foibles, so even though parts of the plot feel a tad inevitable, it's nonetheless exciting to watch.

In the past, when thinking about this film, I always pictured Shirley MacLaine and Jack Nicholson (pictured) as old. Indeed, the script clearly intends to place them in the latter stages of life, but in a sobering twist, it turns out that MacLaine was about my age when she shot this and Nicholson was a few years younger. Blergh. In any event, both deliver spectacular performances and both earned Oscars, for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor, respectively. Nicholson, in particular, is charmingly naughty and surprising. Debra Winger also greatly impresses as the awkward and flighty Emma, as does John Lithgow as the passionate but neurotic other man. Both Winger and Lithgow also received Oscar nominations but were beaten out by their aforementioned castmates. Four acting nods is quite the achievement, but it realistically could have been five. Jeff Daniels' stunning portrayal is likewise worthy of Academy recognition. In fact, the entire cast is sublime. This batch of Best Picture nominees is certainly a great one for acting ensembles.

Keep an ear out for Albert Brooks as the voice of Aurora's husband in the opening scene. And The Big Chill's Mary Kay Place also provides a dubbed voice for a small role. Along with all those acting nominations, James L. Brooks won three Oscars for himself, as producer, director and writer.

1983 - The Big Chill

This week, I had the pleasure of visiting the recently re-opened Vidiots, originally one of the most iconic video stores in 1980s LA, specialising in obscure and cult titles. Now, in the age of streaming, it's a non-profit organisation that complements its video rental services with regular screenings, many with filmmaker Q&As. I attended one such event in which editor Carol Littleton gave some fascinating insight into the film that is the subject of this post.

So, let's continue our review of the Best Picture contenders from 1983 by discussing...


The Big Chill
Director:
Lawrence Kasdan
Screenplay:
Lawrence Kasdan & Barbara Benedek
Starring:
Tom Berenger, Glenn Close, Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Kevin Kline, Mary Kay Place, Meg Tilly, JoBeth Williams
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
0 wins

Seven close friends from college are reunited for the funeral of the eighth member of their group, Alex, who just committed suicide. Along with Alex's young girlfriend, Chloe (Tilly), the gang spend a few days at the South Carolina home of the only married couple of the bunch, Sarah and Harold (Close and Kline), reminiscing about their accomplishments and failures over the last fifteen years.

On the surface, The Big Chill may feel a little thin, plot-wise, but that's the magic of this film. Apart from the catalyst at the beginning of the film, most of the major plot developments are internal to the characters themselves. This is a character study at its finest. In fact, it's not just one character study - it's eight! This group of dreamers from the 1960s, who all compromised in one way or another, are now grappling with those choices while also dealing with the confusion and guilt that comes with their close friend's suicide. Ultimately, all the characters end the film in a different place than they started, no action sequences required. Instead, the character development comes from how these people talk to each other and work through their individual or relationship struggles. And the result is utterly captivating. These characters feel like our own friends.

Much of our connection to these people can be credited to the effortless acting from a stellar cast. There's not a weak link among them. We can see exactly what they're thinking even when they don't say anything. Granted, they talk plenty, but as Carol Littleton explained during the Q&A I mentioned in my intro above, the silences are just as important, if not more so, than the dialogue itself. Indeed, there are specific moments where we can see the exact decision a character has made, due to the perfect synthesis of the script (which has earlier laid the ground work for a particular plot point), the acting (which provides only a subtle shift in facial expression) and the editing (which cuts from one character's informative POV back to her own close-up as the decision is made). Genuinely, it's a perfect lesson in collaborative filmmaking.

Littleton also gave us the skinny on what happened with Kevin Costner, who was cast as the dead friend Alex. In the original script, the final scene was intended to be a flashback, allowing us a glimpse of the good times these characters had talked about so much. In theory, it sounds to me like a very intriguing and satisfying conclusion to the film, a sort of nostalgic button, particularly since the actual ending feels slightly abrupt. But Littleton explained the reasons why the scene was ultimately left on the cutting room floor. While it worked well on paper, it became clear, after filming it and many different attempts at editing it, that it just didn't work, partly because it felt like a costume piece with all the characters suddenly appearing in psychedelic 1960s garb after being in contemporary 1980s gear the whole time, and partly due to the strangeness of Costner who looked naturally much younger than the others who were all made up to look more youthful - though in actuality Costner is only 8 years younger than Glenn Close, the oldest member of the core cast. Still, that's Costner's arms, legs and body that can be seen being dressed for the funeral at the beginning of the film.

Speaking of Close, she was the only performer to receive an Oscar nomination for this film, but in my estimation, the entire cast is so terrific that it's impossible to single anyone out. (One imagines that if the SAG Awards existed at that time, this would have been a shoo-in for Best Ensemble.) Along with that Supporting Actress nod, the movie was also cited for Original Screenplay and, of course, Best Picture, but failed to win any of them.

1983 - Tender Mercies

Well, look at this. Thanks to the downtime I've had during this LA trip, this will be my third post in a week, a feat I haven't achieved in about 6 or 7 years. And there'll be more to come, too, as I prepare to attend a screening of one of the other nominees in this current review year. More on that in the next post.

For now, we begin our look at the 1983 Best Picture contest with...


Tender Mercies
Director:
Bruce Beresford
Screenplay:
Horton Foote
Starring:
Robert Duvall, Tess Harper, Betty Buckley, Wilford Brimley, Ellen Barkin, Allan Hubbard, Lenny von Dohlen, Paul Gleason
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
2 wins, including Best Actor (Duvall)

Ex-country singer Mac Sledge (Duvall) finds himself in a small town motel in remote Texas after a drunken binge. The widowed owner, Rosa Lee (Harper), takes pity on Mac and accepts his offer to work for her in exchange for room and board. The two soon fall for each other and later marry, but his idyllic new life is disrupted when his ex-wife, Dixie (Buckley), also a country singer, tours nearby. Old wounds are reopened and Mac struggles to determine what he really wants out of life.

Tender Mercies is certainly not afraid to take its time. It's a slow-paced slice-of-life story, and since it takes place in a slow town, that leisurely pace feels somehow comfortable, never gratuitous. The beautiful scenery doesn't hurt, either. All in all, it's a sweet story, though it could be argued it's a little too simple. Not that nothing happens. The plot moves forward just fine, but the conflicts aren't quite as profound as they could be. We never really see Mac's worst alcoholic behaviour since he sobers up near the beginning of the film. And the tension he previously caused with his ex-wife when he was at his worst is not explored deeply enough, for my liking.

Winning the Best Actor Oscar for this role, Robert Duvall impresses not just with his acting chops but, holy crap, he has a nice set of pipes, too. Plus, he wrote a couple of the songs that he sings in the movie! The supporting cast are also expertly natural and subdued, matching the overall tone (with the possible exception of the child actors). Some standouts are Wilford Brimley as the exhausted music manager and a young Ellen Barkin (pictured) as Mac's estranged daughter. There's also a brief appearance by character actor Paul Gleason, famed for playing everybody's favourite 1980s movie assholes.

1991 - The Prince of Tides

The dust has truly settled on another Oscar season, so let me wrap it up by noting the decidedly average result of my predictions. I correctly picked only 16 of the 23 winners this year. Mind you, I did exceedingly well with the major categories, nailing Picture, Director, both Screenplays and three out of the four acting awards. Emma Stone pipped Lily Gladstone at the post, it seems, and that was my lone error in the top eight categories.

As I write this, I'm again in Los Angeles. I'm about to finish off this current year of review, which ironically began in this very city two years ago when I saw Bugsy on the big screen. Indeed, no visit to LA is complete without at least one trip to one of the many revival cinemas here, so I have my sights set on a few potential Best Picture nominees that are screening.

For now, though, we come to the final movie in the 1991 Best Picture race...


The Prince of Tides
Director:
Barbra Streisand
Screenplay:
Pat Conroy & Becky Johnston
(based on the novel by Pat Conroy)
Starring:
Barbra Streisand, Nick Nolte, Blythe Danner, Kate Nelligan, Jeroen Krabbé, Melinda Dillon, George Carlin, Jason Gould, Brad Sullivan
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
0 wins

In a somewhat strange turn of events, I watched this movie with the genuine conviction that it was my first time seeing it. However, after checking my movie diary (yes, I maintain a spreadsheet, tracking every movie I've seen since 1994 - don't judge!), I noticed I had in fact watched The Prince of Tides over 20 years ago. Yet, I had absolutely no recollection of it. Usually, even for a film I haven't seen for many, many years, I would at least feel some slight pangs of familiarity with certain scenes, or even a line or an image, but nope, I got to the end of the movie and was still utterly convinced that was the first time I'd watched it. In a way, I suppose it means I got to enjoy all the twists and turns all over again. I wish I could watch The Sixth Sense or Fight Club or Psycho the same way.

Based on the novel of the same name, The Prince of Tides centres on high school football coach Tom Wingo (Nolte) and his South Carolinian family's struggles. His childhood was marred by an emotionally manipulative mother (Nelligan) and a physically abusive father (Sullivan), and he also seems to be in a rut with his current home life, barely caring that his wife, Sallie (Danner), is having an affair.

In New York City, Tom's sister, Savannah (Dillon), has attempted suicide, and her psychiatrist, Susan Lowenstein (Streisand), has requested some help from the family. Despite loathing New York, Tom goes to meet with Dr. Lowenstein, initially remaining tight-lipped about his family's past trauma. But as he eventually opens up, he and Lowenstein begin falling for each other, complicating things further.

It would be easy to be fooled into thinking this film was based on a play, instead of the novel from which it was actually sourced. The locations are mostly static and there's an abundance of dialogue, often melodramatic. Barbra Streisand's direction doesn't shy away from that melodrama, to the point that it seems to be the main driving force behind the production. In fact, if it weren't for the headlining movie stars, you'd be forgiven for confusing this for a TV movie. Along with cheesy lines from clichéd characters, the score cements the film's melodramatic vibe. Consider the stereotypical training montage sequence. Instead of a fast-paced rock song soundtrack, à la Rocky, this one has slow classical music.

But hey, I love movies, even melodramatic ones, so regardless of that previous paragraph, this film is still very entertaining. I found myself invested in all the characters, clichéd or not. The scene where Tom finally tells the story of the family's secret definitely packs a very large emotional punch. I can also forgive the fact that the film struggles to decide whether it's a family drama or a romance flick. For the majority of the story, I would have assumed it was the former if it weren't for the film's poster inexplicably giving away the two protagonists' eventual union. Mind you, there's more to the film after that point, so thankfully, it doesn't reveal everything.

The cast all do a superb job of elevating the material. For me, the gold star goes to Blythe Danner (pictured), who not only missed out on an Oscar nomination for this moving portrayal of a frustrated wife, but has sadly never received one for any of her brilliant work. Barbra Streisand also delivers an affable performance, sans Oscar nomination. Nick Nolte as the dissatisfied family man hiding his pain with humour, and Kate Nelligan as the bitter, controlling mother were the only two cast members to receive nominations, both well deserved. In total, the film received seven nods, but walked away empty-handed on Oscar night.

1991 - Beauty and the Beast

With the actors' and writers' strikes behind us, Oscar season is well and truly heating up. Always an exciting time of year, in large part due to the glut of Oscar-bait movies that are released. Other than the Barbenheimer duo, I've not seen many of the contenders so my watchlist is growing as rapidly as my anticipation for such titles as Killers of the Flower Moon, Maestro, May December, Napoleon, Past Lives, American Fiction, Poor Things, The Holdovers... So many movies, so little time.

Meanwhile, next up in 1991's shortlist is the first animated film to gain a Best Picture nomination...


Beauty and the Beast
Director:
Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise
Screenplay:
Linda Woolverton
Starring:
Paige O'Hara, Robby Benson, Richard White, Jerry Orbach, David Ogden Stiers, Angela Lansbury, Bradley Pierce, Rex Everhart, Jesse Corti
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
2 wins, for Best Original Score and Best Original Song

In this classic fairy tale, a heartless prince (Benson) is transformed into a monstrous beast by an enchantress, who explains that the only way to reverse the curse is to fall in love and be loved in return. Ashamed, the Beast isolates himself for many years in his castle, accompanied only by his servants who have themselves been transformed into household objects.

When an old man, Maurice (Everhart), stumbles upon the castle after losing his way in the forest, the Beast imprisons him for trespassing. Maurice's daughter, bookworm Belle (O'Hara), tracks her father to the castle and makes a deal with the Beast: she'll stay with him in the castle if he lets Maurice go. As the two get to know each other, Belle slowly discovers that the Beast is not as gruff as his outwardly appearance would suggest.

It's not often the Academy nominates a family film for its big prize, and indeed, this was the first animated film to achieve the accolade, so that in itself gives Beauty and the Beast a permanent place in Oscars history. And while the traditional hand-drawn animation is certainly outdated compared to today's shiny 3D effects, the film's beauty (no pun intended) is genuinely charming. In fact, the truth is this picture does indeed employ some early computer animation techniques, culminating in the 3D background during the ballroom dance sequence, a groundbreaking feat for the time.

This picture also came at a time when Disney was at its height in terms of musical animation (though, I suppose some would argue they've always dominated that space). The Little Mermaid was a couple of years earlier, with Aladdin, The Lion King and Pocahontas to follow soon after. All five of those films accomplished the double feat of Oscar wins for Best Original Song and Best Original Score. Some have complained that, while the songs may have deserved their respective wins, the only reason Alan Menken won four Score awards (Hans Zimmer scored The Lion King) was because Academy members didn't truly comprehend the distinction between a film's score and its songs. Certainly, the songs in Beauty and the Beast are worthy of praise due to their classic toe-tapping Broadway style and witty lyrics (hence the three nominations for Best Song) but I'd also argue that Menken's incidental music which underscores the scenes between the musical numbers is just as wonderfully emotive, well worthy of its win.

Along with witty song lyrics, the film's dialogue is often witty as well. It's easy to dismiss all these old-fashioned Disney kids movies as just that, exclusively for kids, but there's plenty of laughs for the grown-ups too. In particular, I enjoyed the banter between Lumiere and Cogsworth (pictured), expertly voiced by Jerry Orbach and David Ogden Stiers who sound like they had a lot of fun in the booth.

Granted, it's often cheesy and over the top, both in the cheap laughs and the forced melodrama, so it doesn't hold a candle to the brilliance of a Pixar movie, but it's not quite as childish as I'd imagined. In the end, of course, this is a fairy tale, and the script plays to those strengths with its streamlined and efficient story, capped off by a satisfying, albeit cliched, ending.

1991 - JFK

Oof, I'm yet again introducing a blog post by noting how embarrassingly long it has been since my last one. This time, it's just over a year (not including Oscar predictions). Hopefully, this slow pace won't remain for too much longer.

Let's dive in to another of 1991's Best Picture nominees...

JFK
Director:
Oliver Stone
Screenplay:
Oliver Stone & Zachary Sklar

(based on the books "On the Trail of the Assassins" by Jim Garrison and "Crossfire: The Plot that Killed Kennedy" by Jim Marrs)
Starring:
Kevin Costner, Kevin Bacon, Tommy Lee Jones, Laurie Metcalf, Gary Oldman, Michael Rooker, Jay O. Sanders, Sissy Spacek, Joe Pesci
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
2 wins, for Best Cinematography and Best Film Editing

Shortly after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in November 1963, New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison (Costner) discovers that the alleged assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald (Oldman), had ties to his jurisdiction. Garrison and his team soon focus on anti-communist David Ferrie (Pesci) but when the FBI's own investigation clears Ferrie, Garrison drops the case.

Three years later, the government's official report on the assassination is released, but Garrison remains unconvinced that Oswald was the lone assassin. He speaks to several witnesses and gathers more evidence with an aim to bring businessman Clay Shaw (Jones) to trial for conspiring to kill Kennedy. However, Garrison's obsession with the case causes fractures in his marriage as his wife Liz (Spacek) confronts him about his priorities.

Speaking of obsessions, a school friend and I were absolutely captivated with this film as teenagers. (Not as obsessed as we were with the Back to the Future trilogy, but pretty close.) If memory serves, we saw JFK at least twice during its original theatrical run, and when it was released on home video, we pored over every detail. Watching it again for this blog - at least two decades since my last viewing - was an exercise in nostalgia. I was hooked right from the opening seconds of the film, as soon as I heard the hauntingly familiar sound of the snare drum.

Back in the 90s, I bought into all of it. All the inconsistencies and anomalies surrounding the official story of JFK's assassination were mind-blowing to me and a slam dunk in the case against the lone assassin hypothesis. Now, of course, the conspiracy theory seems like nonsense. It's simply a lot of conjecture and circumstantial evidence. But here's the thing ... it doesn't really matter. The film itself is just so well put together that even if you think the content is all fairy dust and unicorn farts, you'll still be engrossed in the mystery, astounded by each new cockamamie revelation.

It plays a bit like an episode of Law & Order, the investigative team moving from one witness to the next, interviewing each while a visual flashback complements their testimony. Occasionally, however, this leads into perhaps the film's only drawback - it's just a series of information dumps. Laurie Metcalf's deep dive into Oswald is a good example. It's a straight five minutes of pure exposition about Oswald's past. Likewise, Donald Sutherland's cameo, which is about three times longer. In some ways, the whole movie is simply a laundry list of all the supposed anomalies related to the case. It's a lot to absorb, at times.

Nonetheless, the film remains engrossing and entertaining every step of the way, which is no mean feat considering it's over three hours long. It achieves this due to some unique and stylised cinematography, along with the tense and unsettling editing, both of which earned well-deserved Oscars. John Williams' impressive score also contributes to the film's powerful atmosphere. Not only does the aforementioned snare drum riff deftly set the mood, but the main theme is memorably potent.

And what a cast! Led by Kevin Costner (pictured), who peaks with a gut-wrenching final speech, the entire cast, cameos and all, are superb. If I had to pick a few standouts, Jack Lemmon, Sissy Spacek and Joe Pesci each deliver compelling performances. For the trivia buffs, Oliver Stone cast his own young son, Sean, to play Garrison's eldest child. And that's an uncredited Martin Sheen voicing the narration at the beginning of the film.

1991 - The Silence of the Lambs

I seem to be on a roll with the big-screen viewings of the nominees in this current year of review. First, it was Bugsy at the Los Feliz 3 in Los Angeles, and now, I've just taken in the eventual victor at the Randwick Ritz here in Sydney. I won't hold my breath waiting for the other three nominees to pop up on any local cinema's schedule, so this streak will likely end at two, but it was fun while it lasted.

Continuing our look at the Best Picture nominees of 1991, here are my thoughts on...

The Silence of the Lambs
Director:
Jonathan Demme
Screenplay:
Ted Tally

(based on the novel by Thomas Harris)
Starring:
Jodie Foster, Anthony Hopkins, Scott Glenn, Ted Levine, Anthony Heald, Brooke Smith
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
5 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Hopkins) and Best Actress (Foster)

FBI agent in training Clarice Starling (Foster) is entrusted with an interview of notorious psychiatrist turned serial killer Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins) with the hopes that he can aid in the investigation of another fearsome murderer, known as Buffalo Bill (Levine). Lecter is reticent, placing conditions on his cooperation, but when Buffalo Bill kidnaps a senator's daughter next, the FBI ramps up its efforts to acquire Lecter's insight, raising the risk of his escape.

With pulsating tension and some of the greatest misdirects ever committed to celluloid, it's easy to understand how The Silence of the Lambs became a paragon of the thriller genre ... or horror genre, for those of you who prefer to categorise it that way, which is admittedly understandable, considering the gruesome and frightening elements. However you classify it, though, it has rightfully earned its place in film lore. That elevated status is at least in part thanks to Howard Shore's sublime score, which perfectly complements the foreboding action. The main theme, for example, is pure tension.

Jodie Foster delivers a powerhouse portrayal as a woman proving herself in a man's world - aided by the script's cleverly subtle feminist overtones - displaying both Clarice's ambition and her inexperience with equal parts strength and vulnerability. In arguably his most well-known role, Anthony Hopkins offers the ultimate masterclass in how to portray that steely-eyed unsettling evil that has become so cliched nowadays. But his performance contains oodles of nuance, eschewing the monotone vocal delivery of so many other actors' villainous performances that followed. Ted Levine also impresses with a creepy-as-hell turn as the deranged and demented Buffalo Bill. Anthony Heald (pictured) also stands out, nailing the slimy, in-it-for-himself asshole. Both Foster and Hopkins won Oscars, contributing to the film's Big Five haul. For the uninitiated, that means it won Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress and the Screenplay category it was eligible for, in this case Adapted Screenplay. All in all, a rather impressive feat, especially considering it was only the third (and, to date, the last) film to do so.

1991 - Bugsy

For the first time in over two years, I'm back in Los Angeles. In fact, only a few more days and I'll be heading home again to Sydney. But I haven't wasted the opportunity to catch a classic on the big screen. I ventured out to the historic Los Feliz 3 Theatre to see another Best Picture nominee, presented in 35mm. While it was nice to experience the nostalgic graininess of a real film projector (as opposed to the flawless digital projectors currently in use almost everywhere), this particular print had clearly collected 30 years of dust, grit and hair, which was surely not what movie-goers in 1991 experienced. Nonetheless, watching old movies (it feels strange to me to call 1991 old, but I think that's undeniable now) on a big screen is still one of my favourite pastimes so I'm not complaining.

So, let's begin our review of 1991's race for Best Picture by taking a look at...


Bugsy
Director:
Barry Levinson
Screenplay:
James Toback
Starring:
Warren Beatty, Annette Bening, Harvey Keitel, Ben Kingsley, Elliott Gould, Joe Mantegna, Bebe Neuwirth
Academy Awards:
10 nominations
2 wins, for Art Direction & Costume Design

It seems odd, if not a little cruel, that the title of this film is a nickname that the main character detests with a passion. Benjamin Siegel (Beatty) positively despises being referred to as Bugsy and he's not shy to let people know that. In 1941, Siegel moves to Los Angeles to take over a rival crime family's gambling business. Despite being married with two kids, he meets and falls in love with actress Virginia Hill (Bening), while visiting his friend George Raft (Mantegna) on set. While navigating his rocky romance with Virginia, he attempts to realise an extravagant dream of opening a casino in Las Vegas, securing million-dollar investments from long-time crime pal Meyer Lansky (Kingsley) and others. But soon, the casino's budget balloons out of control and Siegel has to scramble to keep things on track.

Clearly an homage to classic film noir, from the script to the direction to the brilliant cinematography, Bugsy feels like it's from a different era. Everything except for the colour photography and the frequent profanities, I guess. The lighting, in particular, uses precisely the same techniques as those classic gangster flicks, creating a near perfect replica of 1940s cinema. Add to all that a captivating story that keeps you hooked and some divine and Oscar-winning sets and costumes, and you have yourself quite an exceptional motion picture.

As Meyer Lansky, Ben Kingsley's accent is pretty atrocious but if you can get past that, it's a powerful performance. The Academy obviously agreed because he nabbed a Supporting Actor nod along with his co-star Harvey Keitel, also brilliant as Mickey Cohen. Headlining the film, Warren Beatty possesses the requisite charm, for sure, however there are moments when he plays Bugsy Siegel as surprisingly naïve. Still, he also received an Oscar nomination for Best Actor. For me, though, despite being absent from the Best Actress shortlist, it's Annette Bening who steals the show. She absolutely nails the 1940s femme fatale in every way - a truly breathtaking performance.

1935 - A Midsummer Night's Dream

Despite my lack of confidence, my Oscar predictions this year (20 correct out of 23 categories) turned out to be my best ever. (Well, I once correctly picked 21 categories, but that was when there were 24 categories total, so as a percentage, this year was better.) I'd like to say it was all skill, but in the end, it turns out all the favourites and slight favourites came out on top, so there really weren't any major surprises... (I mean, there was obviously one big surprise on the night, but that's not what I meant.) The two main categories that I missed (Picture and Original Screenplay) were also gettable, to be honest, but for whatever reason, I ignored the late rise of CODA and Belfast, respectively, and stuck to my guns with The Power of the Dog and Licorice Pizza. If I'd gone ahead and chosen the slight favourites in those two categories, then Animated Short would have been the sole mistake.

Now, here's the final nominee in 1935's Best Picture competition...


A Midsummer Night's Dream
Director:
William Dieterle, Max Reinhardt
Screenplay:
Charles Kenyon, Mary C. McCall, Jr.
(based on the play by William Shakespeare)
Starring:
James Cagney, Olivia de Havilland, Mickey Rooney, Dick Powell, Ross Alexander, Jean Muir, Victor Jory, Anita Louise
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
2 wins, including Cinematography

Shakespeare's enduring romantic comedy, A Midsummer Night's Dream follows four lovers (de Havilland, Powell, Alexander & Muir) as they succumb to the magic of hidden fairies in the forest. Under orders from King Oberon (Jory), mischievous sprite Puck (Rooney) uses an enchanted flower to cause the humans to fall in love with each other. Meanwhile, the fairy queen Titania (Louise) is bewitched into falling for a man named Bottom (Cagney) who has, in turn, had his head transformed into that of a donkey.

While Midsummer is arguably one of Shakespeare's most overdone plays (certainly his most overdone comedy), there's a reason it's been so popular among producers, both theatre and film alike. There are elements of magic and fantasy and slapstick and word play and romance, all rolled into one. And this production executes each of those elements very well, adding its own spin on a few things but in a way that matches the tone of the source material and doesn't feel out of place.

Clearly, the production's focus here was the fantasy side of things. They've pulled out all the stops to deliver some solid entertainment, cleverly adapting the story to include plenty of music and dance and magical special effects, which I'm sure were awe-inspiring at the time. In fact, while the myriad fantastical sequences are entertaining in their own right, they also shrewdly serve as a way to break up the dense Shakespearean dialogue. Indeed, the extravagant establishing scene of the forest is quite the  mesmerising spectacle, something stage versions of the play could only hope of achieving.

James Cagney is clearly having a ball as Bottom the Weaver and his cheerful enthusiasm is infectious. A teenaged Mickey Rooney plays Puck with such wild abandon that I can't decide whether the performance is brilliantly quirky or just embarrassingly over-the-top. In more than a couple of scenes, it almost seems like he's having a drug-induced trip. Also worth mentioning is rubber-faced comedian Joe E. Brown, who a couple of decades later would deliver possibly the most famous last line of any movie.

A Midsummer Night's Dream holds the unique distinction of being the only film to win a competitive Oscar in a category for which it wasn't even nominated. At the time, the Academy allowed write-in votes, so despite the film not receiving a nod for Hal Mohr's enchanting cinematography, it garnered enough support that it ended up taking home the trophy. The Academy changed its rules the following year.

1935 - The Informer

Happy New Year! Awards season is beginning to ramp up and there are a lot of exciting titles in the running, barely any of which I've seen as yet. I did get the chance to watch Encanto with my family the other night and thoroughly enjoyed it. No doubt we'll be hearing its name mentioned when the Best Animated Film nominations are announced. And with new films from Oscar-bait directors Anderson, Branagh, Campion, McKay, Scott and Spielberg, among many others, I'm looking forward to potentially adding some new favourites to my all-time list.

For now, let's begin the new year with one more of 1935's Best Picture contenders...


The Informer
Director:
John Ford
Screenplay:
Dudley Nichols

(based on the novel by Liam O'Flaherty)
Starring:
Victor McLaglen, Heather Angel, Preston Foster, Margot Grahame, Wallace Ford, Una O'Connor
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
4 wins, including Best Director and Best Actor (McLaglen)

It's 1922 in Dublin during the Irish War of Independence and Irish outcast Gypo Nolan (McLaglen) wanders the streets in a melancholy state. He stumbles across a poster offering a £20 reward for the capture of one of his old friends, Frankie McPhillip (Ford), with whom he fought against the British. Gypo's girlfriend, Katie (Grahame), dreams of escaping her troubled life in Ireland, but moving to America doesn't come cheap. In fact, rather coincidentally, two tickets to America cost exactly £20. No points for guessing what happens next.

The Informer is a keen study in guilt, specifically the behaviour of a reluctant snitch. Director John Ford knows how to create tension and he expertly conveys the anxiety Gypo feels. Taking place over the course of a single evening, the story moves at a slow and very suspenseful pace. Joseph H. August's photography is stunning, a fine example of film noir cinematography, despite the film not really falling into the film noir genre. The moody lighting streaking across the fog, along with some superb shot composition, makes for some captivating visuals.

The performances from most of the cast are perhaps more melodramatic than average for this era - and I'm not just talking about the atrocious Irish accents. Nonetheless, despite McLaglen's overacting, he ended up winning the Best Actor Oscar. If I had the vote, I undoubtedly would have voted for any of the three nominees from Mutiny on the Bounty over McLaglen. I wonder if those three did in fact split the vote, allowing McLaglen to slip through. Then again, overacting wasn't as distasteful back then, so maybe the majority of Academy voters genuinely appreciated McLaglen's performance. For my money, Preston Foster (pictured) was the standout. Maybe he was aided by a more stoic character but he seemed to be less melodramatic than the rest.

The film garnered six nominations, though not for cinematography, sadly. Its main rival was Mutiny on the Bounty, which happened to be nominated in exactly the same six categories. The Informer was the big winner on Oscar night, taking home four awards, the most of any film that year. But Mutiny on the Bounty had the last laugh by taking out Best Picture.

1935 - The Lives of a Bengal Lancer

The Emmys, television's equivalent to the Oscars, begins voting today to select its nominees. One of the perks of all the (tiny) parts I played on American TV shows over the last few years is that I got to join the Television Academy, allowing me to vote in the Emmys. And oof, I thought it was difficult finding time to watch movies. The sheer volume of Emmy-eligible content is entirely overwhelming. It would be literally impossible to watch every episode of every show vying for a nomination, so if you have any recommendations of shows that I absolutely shouldn't miss, please help me whittle down my shortlist.

Meanwhile, here's another picture in contention for the 1935 Best Picture Oscar...

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer
Director:
Henry Hathaway
Screenplay:
Waldemar Young, John L. Balderston, Achmed Abdullah, Grover Jones, William Slavens McNutt

(suggested by the novel by Francis Yeats-Brown)
Starring:
Gary Cooper, Franchot Tone, Richard Cromwell, Guy Standing, C. Aubrey Smith, Kathleen Burke, Douglass Dumbrille
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
1 win, for Best Assistant Director

The recalcitrant Lieutenant McGregor (Cooper) is serving in British India with the Bengal Lancers, soon joined by newcomers Lieutenants Forsythe (Tone) and Stone (Cromwell), the latter being the son of the unit's colonel (Standing). The Lancers are attempting to prevent a potential incursion led by Mohammed Khan (Dumbrille), but their individual loyalties to the regiment are tested at every turn.

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer is often classified as a war movie yet, in truth, it doesn't feature a lot of actual war. There's really only one battle scene, appearing right at the end of the film, though it's so spectacularly staged, including some impressive stunt work, that it makes up for the prior lack of thrilling combat. That said, there's plenty of adventure and drama, so it certainly remains a gripping yarn, if a little clichéd at times, exploring the conflict between military loyalty and individual morality. There are several sequences involving subordinates disobeying orders in an attempt to save their fellow soldiers from doom. Indeed, one of the main relationships in the story, that of the stereotypical military dad who doesn't know how to show emotion and his largely incompetent son who just wants to make his dad proud, is representative of the struggle between military discipline and humanity.

This film also lays claim to being the genesis of the "we have ways of making you talk" trope, often spoken by a villain excited by the thought of torturing the hero. The original line here is actually "We have ways to make men talk" and it's a testament to the excellent (and Oscar-nominated, by the way) script. Despite some of the situations and characters feeling a bit trite, the dialogue is top-notch. Subtext abounds and expository speeches are avoided, and I'm a sucker for a script that doesn't spell everything out all the time, so this was right up my alley.

I feel like I've been saying this a lot lately, but the entire cast is impressive. Perhaps I'm harbouring a latent prejudice that old movies must necessarily contain over-the-top acting so it's always a surprise when they don't. I mean, to be fair, these films obviously can't compare to the naturalism of modern acting, but it's never quite as terrible as I imagine it's going to be. Either that or I'm just getting used to the ham. In any case, the ensemble here is genuinely pleasant to watch, with Franchot Tone being the standout, in my opinion. He supplies most of the comic relief for the film, but it's all an understated tongue-in-cheek humour and not at all slapsticky. Sadly, though, none of the cast were nominated for Oscars. Of the picture's seven nominations, it only walked away with one award, namely Best Assistant Director.

1935 - Ruggles of Red Gap

One of the things I miss about living in L.A. (and New York, for that matter) is the prevalence of revival cinemas. Being the home of Hollywood, there was never a shortage of film events to attend and I particularly loved going to see classic movies at the New Beverly and the Egyptian, among many others. The options in Sydney for this type of thing are limited at best, though with new movies relatively scarce in the last 12 months, many mainstream cinemas here have been adding older classics to their rosters, so there's perhaps a larger selection than usual right now. In my younger days, however, I lived near the spectacular Orpheum, where I managed to see 70mm prints of Ben-Hur and Lawrence of Arabia. I also saw midnight screenings of the original Star Wars trilogy at the Randwick Ritz, which, along with their current prolonged retrospectives of Charlie Chaplin, Pedro Almodovar and Nicole Kidman films, have several Bette Davis vehicles scheduled in the upcoming weeks and months. There's a handful of Best Picture nominees in there, so I may catch one of Davis' films on the big screen to begin the next year of review.

First, though, I'll need to finish 1935's crop of nominees, which includes...

Ruggles of Red Gap
Director:
Leo McCarey
Screenplay:
Walter DeLeon, Harlan Thompson, Humphrey Pearson

(based on the novel by Harry Leon Wilson)
Starring:
Charles Laughton, Mary Boland, Charlie Ruggles, ZaSu Pitts, Roland Young, Leila Hyams
Academy Awards:
1 nomination
0 wins

This awards year was a bit of a Laughton-fest. Charles Laughton stars in yet another nominee, this time as an obedient and experienced British manservant named Marmaduke Ruggles. While in France, his employer, the Earl of Burnstead (Young), regrettably loses Ruggles in a poker game to a newly wealthy American couple, Effie (Boland) and Egbert Floud (Ruggles; that's Charlie Ruggles the actor, not Marmaduke Ruggles the character, obviousy). So off Ruggles goes to the Flouds hometown in the American West, where both Ruggles and Egbert have trouble adjusting.

Perhaps it's a little reductionist to label Ruggles of Red Gap as a classic fish-out-of-water story, but it certainly presents that way. That said, the fish doesn't actually get out of the water until about thirty minutes into the film when Ruggles finally arrives in America. And soon after, there is admittedly a deeper theme underlying the shenanigans. It's really about a man finding his own worth and not just succumbing to his lot in life.

There is a modicum of American patriotism exuding from the picture, too. Ruggles recites Lincoln's famed Gettysburg Address almost as if he's hearing the words "all men are created equal" for the first time, which contributes to the film's definite vibe of moral superiority over Britain's class system. But I'm not sure comparing Ruggles' situation to slavery is all that fair. Plus, of course, the irony that the only black person in their circle is a literal servant seems to be lost on everyone involved. But if we were to pick apart the problematic themes in films of this era, we could be here a while.

This is one of three 1935 Best Picture contenders Charles Laughton appears in and it's such a refreshing change of pace for him. As Javert and Captain Bligh, he brilliantly encapsulates the hard-nosed and unlikable authority figure, so it's wonderful to see him have some fun with a character on the other end of the spectrum. He's endearing and funny as Ruggles, particularly when he's smiling drunk (pictured). His support cast are also fantastic, especially Roland Young as a nobleman with a lost soul, and Leila Hyams as the charming and age-inappropriate love interest of said nobleman.

Ruggles of Red Gap belongs to a relatively short list of films whose Best Picture nod was its sole Oscar nomination. This phenomenon occurred a bunch of times in the 1930s, but it's been almost seven decades since the last time it happened, which was for 1943's The Ox-Bow Incident.

1935 - Les Misérables

This year's extended Oscar season finally wrapped up at the end of April and, while my prediction result was fairly average for me (17 correct out of 23 categories), my prediction about my predictions was pretty spot on. I figured I'd struggle with a few up-in-the-air categories and, indeed, I didn't succeed in the crap shoot that was the Best Actress race. I did, however, peg the similarly unpredictable Best Film Editing category, but that was essentially my only success from those unsettled races. On the other hand, I surmised that this might be the first time in six years I correctly identify the Best Picture winner, and that prophecy was indeed fulfilled, thanks to Nomadland.

While we wait (a slightly shorter amount of time than usual) for the next Oscar season, let's take a look at another nominee from the Best Picture race of 1935...


Les Misérables
Director:
Richard Boleslawski
Screenplay:
W.P. Lipscomb
(based on the novel by Victor Hugo)
Starring:
Fredric March, Charles Laughton, Cedric Hardwicke, Rochelle Hudson, Frances Drake, John Beal
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
0 wins

Not to be confused with the Hugh Jackman-Russell Crowe musical version (also nominated for Best Picture) or, for that matter, any other adaptation of Victor Hugo's classic novel, this one stars Fredric March as the 19th century French peasant Jean Valjean, who is sent to the galleys for stealing bread. While there, he encounters a humourless by-the-books guard named Javert (Laughton). Upon release, Valjean struggles to re-enter society until a kindly bishop (Hardwicke) gives him a break. Several years later, living as Monsieur Madeleine, Valjean owns a factory and has become so well-loved among his peers that he is offered the mayorship of his adopted town. But Javert, now a police inspector, is suspicious of the new mayor and may uncover his secret past as a convict.

For modern tastes, this adaptation of Les Misérables is quite stagey and contrived at times, which is perhaps something you'd expect from a musical, but alas, this version has no songs. The most egregious artificial moments, however, occur fairly early on in the film with the latter half achieving a somewhat more realistic tone. Still, it was made in the 1930s, so... well, cheese was the name of the game.

Despite all the artifice in the story's execution, Victor Hugo's source material, having clearly stood the test of time, is obviously gripping enough to keep the film entertaining, even at its most cheesy. Oddly, though, Eponine's death (sorry, spoiler alert) is mostly glossed over, a missed opportunity for a melodramatic moment, one that the famous musical adaptation would later accomplish perfectly. This film also inexplicably changed Valjean's prison number to 2906, instead of the novel's 24601, which is much catchier, though its catchiness may again be due to the Broadway musical's legacy.

But enough of these unfair comparisons to the evocative power of music. This picture is indeed very watchable, thanks in large part to some genuinely compelling performances. Fredric March as Jean Valjean is often touching, though in the first section of the film, his character seems to be perpetually confused in a rather overwrought fashion. In fact, as Valjean the pauper, March seems to have chosen to embrace the stereotype, then later, as Valjean the respected member of society, the portrayal becomes more naturalistic.

Opposite March is Charles Laughton, typecast as the stoic prig (indeed, this was the same year he played Captain Bligh in Mutiny on the Bounty), and he is exceptionally powerful as Valjean's ruthless nemesis Javert. In a standout role is Frances Drake (pictured above, with March), who makes the most of her relatively small but showy part as the jealous Eponine, despite her eyebrows being drawn all the way to her ears.

The film didn't win any Oscars from its four nominations. Along with Best Picture, it was cited for Cinematography and Film Editing, which are both well deserved since the film is beautifully cinematic. You'd think the director should have gotten recognised for that, too, but Richard Boleslawski sadly missed out. His deputy, Eric Stacey, however, did get a nod in the now defunct Best Assistant Direction category.

1935 - Captain Blood

I've managed to squeak in one more review before the end of the year, which is somewhat surprising since we're well and truly in the midst of the school holidays here in Australia. It's also usually about the time of year that awards season would be heating up, but with the delay of the Oscars ceremony by a couple of months, there's a strange feeling of limbo. Still, lots of Oscar bait movies have already been released with more to come, so I'll try to cover some of that in the coming weeks.

For now, here's the next Best Picture contender from 1935...

Captain Blood
Director:
Michael Curtiz
Screenplay:
Casey Robinson
(based on the novel by Rafael Sabatini)
Starring:
Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Lionel Atwill, Basil Rathbone, Ross Alexander, Guy Kibbee, Henry Stephenson
Academy Awards:
2 nominations
0 wins

17th-century physician Peter Blood (Flynn) is arrested for treating an enemy of the crown, bundled up with other rebels, and shipped to the Caribbean colonies to become a slave. In Jamaica, a colonel's niece, Arabella Bishop (de Havilland), purchases Blood and assists in getting him the coveted role of doctor to the governor. Blood is understandably restless, though, and soon organises an escape with his fellow captives, where they plan to sail the seas as a pirate crew.

As a classic swashbuckling adventure, Captain Blood certainly doesn't disappoint. There's a lot of adventure with plenty of swashes being buckled, including an excitingly tense sword fight on a rocky beach and a spectacularly epic pirate ship battle. Granted, you have to wait a while for most of this excitement to begin since the first half of the picture is mostly straight drama, but the anticipation holds our attention well in preparation for the exhilarating second half.

Carrying the film is Aussie star Errol Flynn in his star-making role as the titular character. He's quite the steely-eyed charmer, which ironically ends up causing some disbelief at the thought of him becoming a pirate. Frankly, he comes across as too pleasant to all of a sudden embrace stealing and pillaging as a way of life, let alone become known as the "Terror of the Caribbean." In all fairness, though, there are later moments where Flynn displays appropriate ferocity, and he sells that well, but it's not a smooth transition getting there and ultimately his friendly demeanour returns (or perhaps it never really left). In any case, his on-screen persona obviously struck a chord with audiences as this was the first of many swashbuckling roles for Flynn, including arguably his most famous role in The Adventures of Robin Hood (to be reviewed on this blog at some point).

Also making a star turn was ingenue (at the time) Olivia de Havilland. This wasn't quite de Havilland's film debut - that came earlier in the same year with fellow Best Picture nominee A Midsummer Night's Dream - but it was the beginning of her on-screen pairing with Flynn. The duo (pictured) shared the screen seven more times in as many years, most notably with the aforementioned Robin Hood. Despite being a newcomer to cinema and having to portray such an underwritten stereotypical damsel, de Havilland holds her own in Captain Blood, launching a lengthy and auspicious career, in which she eventually won two Best Actress Oscars.

Of the large supporting cast, all are excellent, with standout performances from Basil Rathbone as the rival French pirate captain and Henry Stephenson as the diplomatic Lord Willoughby. Officially, the film only received two Oscar nominations - for Best Picture and Best Sound Recording - but Academy rules at the time allowed for write-in candidates and, since they also announced runners-up, we're able to see how popular Captain Blood was among voters. Along with its two official nods, the film scored second place for its director Michael Curtiz, as well as third place for its screenplay and score (and a rousing score it is). As for Best Picture, it wound up garnering yet another third place.

1935 - David Copperfield

2020 is almost over and, boy, has it been a doozy. Australia is handling the pandemic considerably well at this moment in time, though I realise that's not the case in a lot of other places around the world, so it really gives new meaning to the phrase "the lucky country". It's all the more poignant considering the fact that up until just a few months prior to the outbreak, I was a resident of California, a region that sadly does not seem to be faring as well. But with vaccines beginning to be rolled out in a few countries, let's hope that 2021 will allow us to return to some semblance of normal.

In the meantime, I've checked out another nominee from the 1935 Best Picture contest...


David Copperfield
Director:
George Cukor
Screenplay:
Hugh Walpole, Howard Estabrook, Lenore J. Coffee
(based on the novel by Charles Dickens)
Starring:
Frank Lawton, Freddie Bartholomew, W.C. Fields, Lionel Barrymore, Madge Evans, Maureen O'Sullivan, Edna May Oliver, Lewis Stone, Elizabeth Allan, Roland Young, Basil Rathbone 
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
0 wins

Born after his father's death, young David Copperfield (Bartholomew) lives with his flighty mother (Allan) until she decides to get remarried to the less-than-friendly Mr. Murdstone (Rathbone). Soon, David's mother passes away, too, so Murdstone sends the newly orphaned boy away to London, but his adventures don't stop there. He travels from place to place, meeting various characters and, as an adult (Lawton), continues his exploits, experiencing love, loss and laughter.

Perhaps shamefully, I've never read Dickens' book so was mostly unfamiliar with the story. Ironically, I still don't feel all that clear on the story even after watching this adaptation. I mean, it's not that it's hard to follow at all, but the plot moves so quickly that it feels like we're just getting highlights. David moves from one period in his life to another, meeting new people and then saying goodbye to them just as quickly. I know, I know, this has become a common critique of mine about novel adaptations, particularly in early Hollywood, where it seems screenwriters were afraid to leave anything out when adapting a long piece of literature, resulting in relationships and scenarios not given the time they need for growth in order to feel genuine. With that in mind, it seems there has been no shortage of film and TV adaptations of varying lengths of Dickens' classic (including a mini-series with a pre-Harry Potter Daniel Radcliffe as the young David). I would think, however, in these days of peak television, this story would make a fine limited series, allowing an entire episode to explore each plot point, instead of the fifteen minutes or so that this version affords. But I digress...

There is no doubt this is melodrama. Not just the performances, but a lot of the craft feels overly theatrical, too. For instance, after walking through a fierce storm, young David's clothes are suddenly and strategically ripped in a very aesthetic fashion. Shortly after that sequence, in place of smelling salts, David is offered two nondescript bottles, each with a large novelty label: Salad Dressing and, somewhat inexplicably, Anchovy Sauce.

It's not all hopeless, though. In fact, many of the short snippets of story are indeed entertaining, a testament to George Cukor's direction. Though, I suppose if I'm going to credit the director for the captivating segments, I must also hold him at least partially accountable for the broad caricatures that are most of the performances. Frank Lawton as the adult David is eternally happy and kind in a stereotypical way, which I suppose helps create a feel-good film, but his character just comes off as uninteresting. On the other end of the interesting spectrum are two actors worth mentioning: Roland Young (pictured on the right, with Lawton and W.C. Fields) is just the right amount of conniving as Uriah Heep, and Lennox Pawle is a breath of fresh comedy as the not-quite-all-there Mr. Dick. Pawle's performance is delightfully affable in its absurdity with an uncanny resemblance to both the appearance and slapstick style of Chris Farley, only slightly less erratic. Ultimately, the picture received only two other nominations beside its Best Picture nod - one for Editing and another in the now-defunct Assistant Director category. But on Oscar night, it finished empty-handed.

1935 - Mutiny on the Bounty

With so much going on in the world right now, this silly little movie blog seems somewhat insignificant (even more insignificant than it did before, if that's possible), but maybe it'll be a welcome distraction for somebody. And with all the big film releases getting delayed again and again, next year's Oscars may be a little light on eligible content if things don't pick up soon, so maybe reading about Oscar history will be all that's left. In any case, with the next Academy Awards ceremony shifted back a couple of months, I'll see if I can catch up a bit by getting a few more of these reviews done before then.

So, here are my thoughts on the eventual Best Picture winner from 1935...

Mutiny on the Bounty
Director:
Frank Lloyd
Screenplay:
Talbot Jennings, Jules Furthman, Carey Wilson

(based on the novel by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall)
Starring:
Charles Laughton, Clark Gable, Franchot Tone, Herbert Mundin, Eddie Quillan, Dudley Digges, Donald Crisp, Movita, Mamo
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
1 win, for Best Picture

The HMS Bounty leaves 18th century England's shores on a two-year mission to Tahiti. Serving as the ship's captain is the tyrannical William Bligh (Laughton), famed for issuing inhumane and often unjust punishments to his crew. His lieutenant, the kind Fletcher Christian (Gable), finds himself at odds with Bligh on several occasions, leading to an eventual ... well, take another look at the film's title.

For its era, Mutiny on the Bounty contains some epic production values. While there are still many obvious studio sets with an ocean image merely projected onto the background, there are just as many shots of actual ships on the actual ocean. Similarly, while much of the action was shot along the Californian coastline, the production also utilised Tahiti itself for some scenes.

Historically speaking, it seems the film hits all the major plot points in a relatively accurate fashion, though from my admittedly brief research, it's unclear whether Captain Bligh was truly as horrible as he is portrayed here. Likewise, the real Fletcher Christian may not have been as charming and compassionate as Clark Gable. And while it's true that Christian married a native Tahitian woman, it seems unlikely the courtship was the love-at-first-sight romance presented in this film. This was the height of British colonialism, after all. Still, being a Hollywood movie, there had to be a love interest, so there was no way the studio would have left that part out, but considering the bulk of the movie consists of a bunch of men confined together at sea for months on end, there was limited opportunity for a leading lady. As such, the relationship between Christian and Maimiti is glossed over quite considerably.

Comprising mostly British characters, it's not surprising the film's cast includes a decent number of British actors, led by Charles Laughton, who nails the pompous, heartless megalomaniac. Clark Gable (pictured with Laughton) and Franchot Tone, on the other hand, don't even attempt British accents, though at least they both speak with a theatrically eloquent American sound. And if you look very closely at the ship's crew, you might catch two unexpected faces. Future star David Niven appears as an uncredited extra, as does James Cagney, who was already well-known at the time, but apparently sweet talked his way into the background one day when he unintentionally stumbled across the set.

Mutiny on the Bounty is one of only three films (along with The Broadway Melody and Grand Hotel) to boast Best Picture as its sole Oscar win. It also holds the record for the most Best Actor nominations for a single film with Laughton, Gable and Tone all competing in the same category due to the fact that the Supporting Actor category didn't exist yet. Indeed, it's entirely possible the supporting awards were introduced (only one year later) as a result of this film's domination of the leading category.