2010 - True Grit

Awards season is well and truly under way now with most of the critics groups releasing their top picks, including nominations from the Golden Globes and the Critics Choice Awards. There are a few films that seem to be appearing again and again on these lists - Wicked, Anora, The Brutalist, Conclave, Nickel Boys, Dune: Part Two - suggesting these are the frontrunners for Oscar's top prize. Personally, I tend to be wary of the "critics mirage" since the critics' preferences don't always align with those who work in the industry. It's not uncommon for a film or actor to sweep the critics' awards yet find themselves left off the shortlist on Oscar nomination day. That said, I expect those films above will remain in the conversation (particularly since there are 10 Best Picture nominee slots to fill) but it would be wise to wait for the nomination announcements from the guilds and other industry organisations, including BAFTA, to see exactly which ones have the staying power.

Back to the 2010 Best Picture race, I recently viewed another of its nominees...


True Grit
Director:
Joel & Ethan Coen
Screenplay:
Joel & Ethan Coen
(based on the novel by Charles Portis)
Starring:
Jeff Bridges, Hailee Steinfeld, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin, Barry Pepper, Domhnall Gleeson
Academy Awards:
10 nominations
0 wins

Based on the same source novel as the 1969 John Wayne movie of the same name, this version is an attempt at a more faithful adaptation. Well, as faithful as a Coen brothers movie can be. Our heroine is Mattie Ross (Steinfeld), who narrates the story of how she hired past-his-prime U.S. Marshal Rooster Cogburn (Bridges) to help her track down and bring to justice Tom Chaney (Brolin), the outlaw who murdered her father.

From the first shot, this picture looks positively gorgeous, thanks to Roger Deakins' beautiful cinematography. With its sweeping landscapes, it's the sort of visual style you'd expect from a grand epic, yet this is far more intimate and personal. The dramatis personae are relatively few and the runtime falls short of two hours, creating a tight story that remains engrossing throughout. And then there's the language. The Coen brothers clearly enjoy playing with language and True Grit is no exception. While the formal-sounding dialogue (not a single contraction is spoken!) may be a little distracting at times, it certainly sets a uniquely fascinating tone.

Rooster Cogburn is one of those rare characters for which two actors have received Oscar nominations. John Wayne won for his turn in the earlier version, but while Jeff Bridges was also shortlisted for this remake, he had already won an Oscar a year earlier with Crazy Heart and didn't pull off back-to-back wins. Nonetheless, he steals the show with his fantastic portrayal of the multi-faceted lawman. In her breakout role, Hailee Steinfeld holds her own as the precocious and insistent teenager with a mile-a-minute cadence. She does well with the aforementioned distinctive dialogue, but it's the silent moments of reflection where she truly shines. In those instances, her less-is-more technique is spot on. Matt Damon, Josh Brolin and Barry Pepper also bring their A-games in effective supporting roles. Another bright spot is a young Domhnall Gleeson (pictured) in an early film role. And if you listen carefully, you can briefly hear the voice of J.K. Simmons as Mattie's lawyer.

On nominations morning, True Grit found itself second only to The King's Speech in total Oscar nominations. Its 10 nods, including Best Picture, are a testament to its exceptional achievement across many filmmaking disciplines, yet on Oscar night, it failed to pick up a single award.

2010 - Black Swan

Oscar season is heating up as more and more genuine contenders are released. I'm once again finding myself behind the eight ball with a lot of catching up to do in terms of viewing said contenders, so I won't offer any thoughts about frontrunners just yet, except to say at the top of my watchlist right now are current box office hits Wicked and Gladiator II, as well as the smaller talks-of-the-town Anora and Conclave. Varying degrees of buzz around each of those films.

Next up on our tour of the Best Picture nominees of 2010 is...


Black Swan
Director:
Darren Aronofsky
Screenplay:
Mark Heyman, Andres Heinz, John McLaughlin
Starring:
Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassell, Barbara Hershey, Winona Ryder, Benjamin Millepied, Ksenia Solo, Sebastian Stan
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
1 win, for Best Actress (Portman)

As a member of the New York City Ballet, Nina (Portman) has high expectations of herself, almost as high as her overbearing mother (Hershey) who treats her like a child. When Thomas (Cassel), the harsh and unyielding artistic director, announces that Swan Lake will be the company's next production, Nina nervously auditions for the lead role. The audition does not seem to go well, but after an awkward interaction with Thomas, Nina unexpectedly wins the part. As opening night approaches, she becomes increasingly paranoid about being replaced by her free-spirited understudy Lily (Kunis), while also being forced to address her own oddly avian transformation.

As one expects from director Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan exudes a creepy vibe from the outset. Much of that psychologically disturbing atmosphere is created by a fascinating amalgamation of naturalism and surrealism (another of Aronofsky's trademarks). However, while the surrealist elements work like a dream (pun intended), the more naturalistic segments don't quite hit the mark for me. The dialogue is sparse of subtext as characters often say very obvious and blunt things that are not at all the way normal humans speak, which is ironic considering a major plot point is how Nina isn't real enough in her dancing. Of course, I'm probably just missing the point of surrealist art, but it seems to me that if you're going to attempt a veristic mood with shaky camerawork and authentic performances, then a less superficial script might help.

All that said, as we enter the second half of the movie, the surrealism is ratcheted up and things really start getting weird, at which point ... well, who cares about natural dialogue? The tension moving forward is executed perfectly (I mean, she's turning into an actual swan, for heaven's sake), layered with a healthy dose of horror tropes. There are jump-scares aplenty, shadowy figures you can't quite identify, and a mirror image that has a mind of its own. I'm usually not a fan of those sorts of bait-and-switch tricks because they often seem meaningless (like, do the hallucinations imply it's all in her head?), but in this case, they cleverly reveal the depths to which Nina has lost her mind. The result is a final act that is a genuinely thrilling ride. And considering surrealism and horror are two of my least favourite genres, that's high praise indeed.

As mentioned above, the performances are mostly naturalistic despite the unconvincing dialogue in the early parts of the film. Natalie Portman (pictured) won an Oscar for her portrayal of a passionate pleaser completely unravelling. She was the only member of the cast to even receive a nomination, despite some impressive performances by the supporting players. Mila Kunis, in particular, is breezy and mysterious, and was unlucky to miss out, in my opinion. So, too, was Vincent Cassel who injects Thomas with a cavalier intensity. And don't miss a pre-MCU Sebastian Stan, impressing in a small role.

2010 - The Fighter

This past Saturday night was a nostalgic one for me as I attended the concert of a musical hero of mine. It had been more than 20 years since I last saw him live, but even at the age of 75, Billy Joel still knows how to put on a spectacular show. From start to finish, I couldn't stop smiling as I listened to all the hits and album tracks that have been ingrained in me since I was a teenager. Perhaps the most nostalgic part of the night, however, came when he introduced Axl Rose to the stage to sing Live and Let Die. You might not think those two have a lot of common fans, but in 1992, all I ever listened to was Billy Joel and Guns N' Roses, so my brain near exploded during that number. All in all, a fantastic night out.

From music back to movies, our next Best Picture nominee from 2010 is...


The Fighter
Director:
David O. Russell
Screenplay:
Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson, Keith Dorrington
Starring:
Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo, Mickey O'Keefe, Jack McGee
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
2 wins, for Best Supporting Actor (Bale) and Best Supporting Actress (Leo)

Welterweight boxer Micky Ward (Wahlberg) is struggling to find success, in large part due to poor choices made by his manager and trainer, who happen to be his mother (Leo) and his half-brother Dicky (Bale), himself an ex-fighter now addicted to crack. When Dicky's exploits lead to a prison sentence, Micky turns his back on his family in an attempt to bolster his career, finding a new manager and trainer.

The opening scene of The Fighter introduces us to the two main characters via an interview with a documentary film crew. While the film itself isn't presented as a faux documentary, it still makes clever use of this plot device on several occasions. Not only are the characters occasionally interviewed but the bouts are presented in the exact video-camera aesthetic of 1990s HBO. Even when these direct documentary techniques are not appropriate (i.e. scenes in which you would not expect a camera to be present), director David O. Russell still creates a realistic documentary-like tone by way of the camera work and the improvisational licence that appears to have been given to the performers.

Now, full disclosure, I'm not at all into boxing as a sport, but like any good sports movie, the story here is not just about our hero winning a few matches. We find ourselves completely invested in these characters and relationships, which, in turn, creates the high stakes required for a final fight that is full of edge-of-your-seat tension, even for non-boxing fans.

The Fighter features a fantastic cast who all deliver brilliantly raw performances. Christian Bale (pictured), in particular, exudes a natural grittiness that is simultaneously heart-warming and heart-breaking. Both he and Melissa Leo earned Oscars for their portrayals, deservedly so. Amy Adams (also nominated) and Jack McGee are also engaging and strong. And holding the story together in possibly a career-best performance is Mark Wahlberg, who is surprisingly gentle in the midst of so much violence and anger.

2010 - Winter's Bone

A highlight of any Oscar fan's trip to Los Angeles will undoubtedly be the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures. I enjoyed such an outing last week when I attended the museum's third anniversary celebrations. After watching a special screening of Chaplin's The Gold Rush, I ventured into the exhibitions to absorb all I could. It was my second time visiting the museum, but as ever, I remained as intoxicated by the movie magic on display. Of particular interest were the spotlights on Casablanca and The Godfather, which housed Sam's piano and Don Corleone's desk, among other treasures.

Perhaps the most thrilling section for me, though, was the room dedicated to the Oscars ceremony itself. Various acceptance speeches are played on big screens surrounding a central display cabinet that provides a chronological history of the Academy Awards. Several past winners' Oscars are on display, as well as other artefacts, including presenters' envelopes and Oscar night programs. In the end, I ran out of time to see everything, so another visit seems imminent.

Moving on now to another contender from 2010's Best Picture showdown...


Winter's Bone
Director:
Debra Granik
Screenplay:
Debra Granik & Anne Rosellini
(based on the novel by Daniel Woodrell)
Starring:
Jennifer Lawrence, John Hawkes, Kevin Breznahan, Dale Dickey, Garret Dillahunt, Sheryl Lee, Lauren Sweetser, Tate Taylor
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
0 wins

In rural Missouri, Ree (Lawrence) is warned that her father is out on bail, but if he doesn't show up for his trial, the state will seize his house, meaning Ree and her ill mother and two younger siblings will have nowhere to live. Ree sets out to find out what happened to her father only to encounter a series of unsavoury characters in the meth business, all of whom want her to stop sticking her nose into their affairs.

Seemingly representative of the small town in which it's set, Winter's Bone maintains a slow-paced attitude, allowing the viewer to sink into an intensely uneasy atmosphere. Scene after scene is full of superbly executed tension, thanks to some deft direction by Debra Granik.

But if it's an uplifting story you're after, you'd best look elsewhere. Despite an essentially positive ending for the lead character, the film is brimming with truly awful characters, some of whom seem downright irredeemable. With the exception of our protagonist (though, she has her own flaws) and one or two others, almost everyone seems caught in a constant power struggle, obsessed with asserting their authority over others with displays of assholery, both verbal and physical. Ultimately, this is a study of the nasty side of the human condition.

The cast all live up to the challenge of playing the most atrocious characters they can muster and, while this constant humourless intensity sometimes feels a bit two-dimensional, some of the actors manage to bring added dimension to their portrayals, particularly John Hawkes (pictured) who earned himself a Best Supporting Actor nomination as the violent but conflicted uncle. Joining him on Oscar night was Jennifer Lawrence in her breakout role, becoming the second-youngest Best Actress nominee at the time (though she's since been bumped down to third). The film also garnered nods for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay.

2010 - Toy Story 3

After a 14-hour flight yesterday, I'm writing this from the sunny climes of Los Angeles. Long-haul air travel is excruciating, of course, but the silver lining is always the chance to watch as many movies as I can cram in between take-off and landing. This time, I managed four, and it was an eclectic bunch. I caught up with a couple of recent films I missed at the cinema (Kinds of Kindness and Civil War) and threw in a couple of classic comedies to boot (Beetlejuice and Monty Python's The Meaning of Life). A half-day well spent.

Before I left Sydney, I watched the next nominee in 2010's Best Picture race...


Toy Story 3
Director:
Lee Unkrich
Screenplay:
Michael Arndt, John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich
Starring:
Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Joan Cusack, Don Rickles, Wallace Shawn, John Ratzenberger, Estelle Harris, Ned Beatty, Michael Keaton, Jodi Benson, John Morris, Laurie Metcalf
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
2 wins, for Best Animated Feature and Best Original Song

With Andy (Morris) heading off to college, all his old toys, except for Woody (Hanks), assume they are to be thrown away. Despite Woody's attempts to convince them otherwise, the other toys sneak into a donation box bound for Sunnyside Daycare, where they dream of being played with by many different children. Reality soon sets in, though, as the toys experience the chaos that is toddler playtime while also having to deal with Sunnyside's de facto leader, a villainous teddy bear named Lotso (Beatty), who kidnaps Buzz Lightyear (Allen) and resets him to factory settings.

In preparation for watching Toy Story 3, I rewatched the first two films in the series, and similar themes popped up each time. In all three stories, the predominant driver of the plot is that Woody is afraid that Andy doesn't want to play with him anymore. In the first one, he thinks Buzz is going to replace him. In the second one, he worries that Andy is getting too old to play with any of his toys. And in this one, there's a genuine fear that all the toys are going to be thrown out altogether. Toy Story 2 and 3 also share a similar antagonist: an older authority figure who appears sweet at first, but turns out to be evil. Despite the similarities, this third instalment is more intricate than the first two, which were relatively straightforward. The series seemingly matures along with Andy.

Speaking of maturity, not only does Toy Story 3 contain the usual jokes aimed exclusively at the grownups, a signature of Pixar's output, but there are also certain elements that feel almost unsuitable for children. While the horror scenes can clearly be identified as parody to an adult audience, they could easily scare the little ones. Additionally, there's a genuinely traumatic sequence of existential peril (pictured), a scene that draws the viewer in with its immense realism, which is no mean feat considering it's a movie about talking toys. Then, of course, there's the good old Pixar heartstring-pulling at the end, which is sure to go over the kids' heads.

Ultimately, though, despite the more mature tone, Toy Story 3 remains at its heart a family film, full of wholesome entertainment and barrels of laughs for the kids. And they pulled out all the stops when it comes to the cast. Along with the regular funny voices of Hanks, Allen, Ratzenberger, Rickles, Shawn, Cusack and Harris, we are now introduced to Jodi Benson (the voice of Ariel in The Little Mermaid) as Barbie and Michael Keaton as Ken. Ned Beatty is brilliant as the evil Lotso. Plus, in smaller roles, we are treated to the comedy stylings of Jeff Garlin, Kristen Schaal, Richard Kind and Whoopi Goldberg. It's quite the stacked ensemble.

2010 - 127 Hours

Awards season is fast approaching, but as yet, there doesn't seem to be a great deal of buzz around any of the films that have already been released. By this time last year, we had already experienced the phenomenon that was Barbenheimer. This year, however, there's Dune Part 2, which will likely pick up several Oscar nominations and maybe one for Best Picture, like its predecessor, but it seems much less likely that it will actually win. Another sequel, Inside Out 2, might enjoy the rare achievement of an animated film finding itself in the Best Picture race, but again, it's certainly no front runner for the top prize. Other potential contenders are Civil War and Challengers, which also seem poised to get some acting nominations perhaps. In any case, still to come are plenty of Oscar bait movies attempting to garner buzz, including some more sequels of previous Best Picture nominees (Joker: Folie à Deux and Gladiator 2). There's also an upcoming film from Oscar royalty, Francis Ford Coppola's Megalopolis, which surprisingly seems to have very muted anticipation from awards prognosticators, despite its pedigree. But we shall just have to wait and see which films emerge as serious contenders over the next few months.

Meanwhile, let's begin our trek through 2010's Best Picture contest with...


127 Hours
Director:
Danny Boyle
Screenplay:
Danny Boyle & Simon Beaufoy
(based on the book "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" by Aron Ralston)
Starring:
James Franco, Kate Mara, Amber Tamblyn, Clémence Poésy, Lizzy Caplan, Kate Burton, Treat Williams
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

In real life, we all read about canyoneer Aron Ralston's harrowing ordeal. He was trapped by a boulder, alone for five days, eventually amputating his own right arm in order to escape. Since it was headline news, spoilers were aplenty before this film was even released, so I'll assume, dear reader, that there's no need for me to be coy about the film's final moments.

The film begins as Aron (Franco) hastily prepares for a hike in the canyons of Utah, failing to notify anyone of where he's going. On his travels, he encounters two women (Mara & Tamblyn) and explores the area with them for several hours before they go their separate ways. Alone again, Aron ventures into a more isolated area, and as he continues climbing, a large rock gives way underneath him, causing him to fall. As he recovers, it becomes clear that the falling rock has trapped his arm against the canyon wall. Unable to dislodge the boulder, Aron uses his ingenuity and the minimal supplies in his backpack to explore different ways of escape. Rationing his limited food and water, he records several video diary entries on his camcorder before eventually succumbing to the inevitable conclusion that if he can't remove the rock, he'll have to remove his arm.

As is evident in that synopsis, 127 Hours spends a large proportion of its running time tracking a solitary character in a very confined space. That may sound dull and tedious, yet in practice, it's absolutely captivating on account of the solid direction by Danny Boyle, as well as an inventive script that includes some flashbacks and hallucinations. Similarly, since we know this is a story about a man who eventually cuts his own arm off, one might expect that prior knowledge to undermine any potential tension, but in fact, I became so emotionally invested in Aron's plight that, every time he attempts to shift that boulder, I found myself genuinely hoping he would succeed, despite knowing that he obviously wouldn't. And all those screenwriting gurus that tell you that you absolutely have to personify your antagonist - well, in this movie, the antagonist is literally a rock. It's a great example of how flouting conventions can sometimes reap dividends.

Carrying the movie (on his own for most of it) is James Franco (pictured), who is perfectly cast. He instils Aron with a cavalier sense of adventure but the wherewithal to survive adversity, a perfect balance of humour and sobriety. Franco also portrays Aron's anguish with heart-wrenching aptitude - both the emotional anguish on display when he records what he thinks is his final video message to his family, and also the physical anguish during the amputation sequence, which, I might add, is most definitely not for the squeamish.

Franco scored his only Oscar nomination to date for this role. The film also garnered five other nominations, including for its remarkable screenplay, but went home empty-handed on Oscar night.

1958 - Separate Tables

In the intro to my last review, I wrote about my binge of the Mad Max movies. I followed that up with another 80s franchise that has a current sequel. Recently, I rewatched the first three Beverly Hills Cop movies, before tackling the new instalment, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F.

I enjoyed them all but, as I think seems to be the general consensus, there was somewhat of a decline between each film in the original trilogy. The latest addition to the franchise is, I feel, a perfect example of a nostalgia sequel. It captures the tone of the original while still finding a way to make it contemporary. Eddie Murphy slips back into wisecracking Foley wonderfully, and I loved seeing all the old faces (Reinhold, Ashton, Reiser, Pinchot) as well as the new ones (Gordon-Levitt, Bacon, Paige). Even the soundtrack mixes 80s hits with modern tunes. Sure, it probably won't end up on anyone's top 10 list, but for me it hit all the right nostalgic buttons.

You might also be surprised to learn that this franchise has garnered two Oscar nominations. The original was cited for Best Original Screenplay, and the second film snagged a Song nod.

Now, back to the task at hand. The final stop on our trip through 1958's Best Picture nominees is...


Separate Tables
Director:
Delbert Mann
Screenplay:
Terence Rattigan, John Gay
(based on the play by Rattigan)
Starring:
Deborah Kerr, Rita Hayworth, David Niven, Wendy Hiller, Burt Lancaster, Gladys Cooper, Cathleen Nesbitt, Felix Aylmer, Rod Taylor, Audrey Dalton
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
2 wins, for Best Actor (Niven) and Best Supporting Actress (Hiller)

At the Hotel Beauregard in coastal England, long-term resident Major Pollock (Niven) is well liked, particularly by shy Sibyl (Kerr), until a newspaper article outs him as a fraud and, worse, guilty of sexual harassment. Led by Sibyl's mother, the no-nonsense Mrs. Railton-Bell (Cooper), the other residents discuss what to do with this information, eventually putting pressure on the hotel manager, Miss Cooper (Hiller), to evict the Major.

Meanwhile, Miss Cooper's fiancé John (Lancaster), is visited by his ex-wife Anne (Hayworth). The two argue about their failed rocky marriage, though Anne's lascivious intentions are clear. Well, clear to everyone except John.

At the outset, Separate Tables introduces us to an array of characters and storylines, which had me thinking this was going to be a sort of Altman precursor. However, as the plot moves forward, the story focuses in on the two main threads. As it happens, the film is based on a pair of one-act plays, so this screen adaptation has simply merged those two stories into one. As is often the case with stage adaptations, there is plenty of talking, but it's always captivating, despite sliding into melodrama at times.

Perhaps the most fascinating part, though, is how the picture managed to get some of the content past the censors. I talked about how the same year's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was forced to obscure some themes to its detriment, but here, the sexual allusions are hard to misunderstand. For example, when the young Charles is studying for his medical school exams, his sweetheart Jean attempts to persuade him to go for a romantic walk in the garden. He rebuffs her by saying, "How can I possibly mix anatomy with romance?" Jean gets a cheeky look in her eye and responds, "Well, that shouldn't be too difficult."

As witty and engrossing as it is, the script also remains relevant to this day. Its exploration of sexual harassment, for instance, feels particularly apposite given the reckoning we've been through as a society in the wake of the Me Too movement. (Though, I'm not sure what it says about our progress knowing that these same discussions were happening 70 years ago.) When the hotel residents come together to consider Major Pollock's fate, there are about as many opinions as there are people in the room, and twice as many questions. By the end, you'll find at least one character's opinion that you agree with but it might not be the character you thought you'd be agreeing with. The characters we assumed were decent seem to have dismissive viewpoints and vice versa. This cognitive dissonance is another master stroke of the screenplay, presenting the uncomfortable truth that nobody is purely good or purely evil. There's a lot of grey area. Indeed, the more uncomfortable truth is that even the accused must be seen in that light, too. That said, the film's ending remains a product of its time and the ambiguity the screenplay had been fomenting is set aside for essentially a clear-cut redemption story, despite the fact that Major Pollock does nothing substantial to warrant such redemption.

The cast handles these weighty themes with aplomb. Burt Lancaster and Rita Hayworth are both fantastic, working well opposite each other. There is some overacting from Deborah Kerr, though admittedly her final breakdown is incredibly moving, and the Academy gave her a Best Actress nomination for it. Two other cast members converted their Oscar nominations into wins. Wendy Hiller deservedly picked up Best Supporting Actress for her turn as the stalwart hotel manager. And David Niven (pictured) is superb, straddling the line between creep and charmer, earning himself Best Actor. Lastly, it would be remiss of me not to mention fellow Aussie Rod Taylor in an early role. He and Audrey Dalton are charming together, providing much of the film's light relief.

1958 - Gigi

In an attempt to fill some embarrassing gaps in my watch history and to avoid being an unpatriotic Australian, I finally got around to viewing a classic Aussie franchise. Yes, shamefully, until last week, I had not seen a single Mad Max movie. (Well, it's possible I saw Beyond Thunderdome as a teenager but I have no recollection of it.) I've yet to see the current instalment, Furiosa, and I fear I may have just missed my chance to see it on the big screen, but I viewed the previous four films in rapid succession and what struck me most is the clear evolution present in the series. Obviously, that's expected between the third and fourth movies since there was a gap of 30 years between them, but even the first three films, which were all released within a six-year period show a distinct progression from one to the next. The budgets evidently matured each time, but so did the filmmaking. Even the stories themselves are quite disparate.

Fury Road is the only one (so far) to receive love from the Academy, taking home six Oscars from ten nominations. One of those nominations was for Best Picture, so it will appear on this blog at some point. I know, I could just write about it now, since I've just watched it, but I'm in the middle of another review year and my organised brain refuses to do things out of order, so it'll just have to wait. 

Speaking of our current review year, next on our trip through 1958's Best Picture contenders is...


Gigi
Director:
Vincente Minnelli
Screenplay:
Alan Jay Lerner
(based on the novel by Colette)
Starring:
Leslie Caron, Maurice Chevalier, Louis Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, Eva Gabor, Jacques Bergerac, Isabel Jeans, John Abbott
Academy Awards:
9 nominations
9 wins, including Best Picture and Best Director

Life in Paris at the turn of the 20th century appears to be full of parties and romance, especially for wealthy young men like Gaston (Jourdan). While his uncle Honoré (Chevalier) encourages Gaston to enjoy his womanising lifestyle, Gaston considers everything to be a bore. With the pressure off, he is happy to keep the company of family friend Gigi (Caron), an irrepressible young woman who, while being taught how to behave like a courtesan, scoffs at the thought of actually becoming one. After a lost bet, Gaston takes Gigi on a weekend holiday, and finds himself questioning whether there might be something romantic between them.

As a modern viewer with modern sensibilities, the first thing that slaps you in the face about Gigi is how casually chauvinistic it is. I mean, I understand it was made seven decades ago and set another five decades before that, but when a film's opening musical number is a 70-year-old man singing about little girls, it certainly raises an eyebrow or two. I also understand that the high society of early 20th century France was spectacularly patriarchal, so the film is merely depicting the norms of the time, but it's somewhat jarring nonetheless.

That said, there were moments towards the end of the picture where I began to suspect the whole point of the story was to critique those misogynistic norms. Gigi is portrayed as an independently-minded woman, intent on bucking traditional courting practices. Rather than accepting her subjugated fate, she spurns her courtesan education and quite literally laughs in the face of the albeit kind man who is pursuing her. And even when she relents and agrees to play her submissive part, Gaston has second thoughts after experiencing a social night out with her. I had hoped that was leading to a moment in which he expresses how he fell in love with the free-spirited Gigi, not this obsequious doormat she was forcing herself to be, so she should return to being her inimitable self, but he stops short of that emotional confession. He does however drop the idea of keeping Gigi as his courtesan, which suggests he at least understands how demeaning such a submissive role can be. Ultimately, though, the Hollywood ending prevails, and rather than applying his newfound understanding to all women, he simply realises that Gigi alone is too good for that courtesan life and should be his wife instead. So, alas, a condemnation of patriarchy it is not. Indeed, Gigi seems to be delighted at Gaston's proposal mere moments after he rather rudely, and without explanation, walked out on her.

Now, if you can look past all that - and frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you can't - you'll actually find a charmingly entertaining movie. The orchestral music is bubbly and toe-tapping. Like fellow nominee Auntie Mame, the sets and costumes are extravagantly gorgeous. It feels like a resplendent Broadway production (and, as it turns out, it was adapted for the stage, somewhat unsuccessfully, several years later). In short, it's simply old-fashioned escapism, designed to put a smile on your face.

With legendary duo Lerner and Loewe in charge of the songs, it's not all that surprising that Gigi is heavily reminiscent of one of their other works, My Fair Lady, which had only opened on Broadway a couple of years earlier (though the film adaptation, also a Best Picture winner, was still to come). In both musicals, Loewe creates memorable tunes, while Lerner masters the art of clever rhyming lyrics. There's a decent amount of talk-singing in Gigi, paving the way for Rex Harrison. The number "She's a Girl" provides a very similar plot device in Gigi as "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" does in My Fair Lady. And to top it all off, "Say a Prayer for Me Tonight" was actually originally written for My Fair Lady but removed before it got to Broadway, so the pair reworked it for Gigi instead.

There's no denying the pure charm of Maurice Chevalier (pictured), which is no mean feat considering my earlier observation about "Thank Heaven for Little Girls". His welcoming grin helps to create a character with an air of gentleness and an unabashed love for life. And Chevalier is just one part of a fabulous ensemble, featuring Leslie Caron, Louis Jourdan and Hermione Gingold, all delivering naturally engaging performances. Disappointingly, despite four acting nominations at the Golden Globes (including a win for Gingold), none of the actors received an Academy Award nomination (though, Chevalier did receive a special Honorary Award that year for a lifetime of entertainment). However, in a way, the lack of acting nods helped Gigi to set a unique record on Oscar night. With nine Oscars, not only did it become the most honoured film up to that point, but it secured those wins from nine nominations, a 100% strike rate. It didn't hold the "Most Oscar Wins" record for long as Ben-Hur took home 11 Oscars the following year But its "Highest Clean Sweep" record took 45 years to break. After The Last Emperor merely matched the record in 1987, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King finally stole the crown in 2003 when it won all 11 of its nominations.

1958 - Auntie Mame

I've been sitting here for quite a while trying to think of something to write about for this intro. I've had a couple of ideas but, after writing a sentence or two, decided they weren't all that interesting. Of course, writing about how I couldn't find anything interesting to write about is undoubtedly even less interesting than if I'd just written about the uninteresting thing, but I'm finished now and I couldn't be bothered rewriting it again. I guess I need to do more interesting things so that I can write about them.

Anyhoo, our review of the nominees from the 1958 Best Picture race continues with...


Auntie Mame
Director:
Morton DaCosta
Screenplay:
Betty Comden & Adolph Green
(based on the novel by Patrick Dennis and the stage adaptation by Jerome Lawrence & Robert E. Lee)
Starring:
Rosalind Russell, Forrest Tucker, Coral Browne, Fred Clark, Roger Smith, Patric Knowles, Peggy Cass, Jan Handzlik, Joanna Barnes, Pippa Scott
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

Mame Dennis (Russell) is a vivacious socialite in 1920s New York, famed for her bustling parties. When her brother dies, Mame becomes the guardian of his only son Patrick (Handzlik & later Smith). But as a safeguard against Mame's penchant for excess, her brother assigns trustee Dwight Babcock (Clark) to ensure Patrick is raised conservatively. Mame and Patrick quickly become enamoured with each other but after the stock market crash of 1929, Mame loses almost everything. Forced to find work, she applies every effort to secure a decent life for Patrick, while attempting to foster in him a love of adventure.

Classic Hollywood extravagance is on display in Auntie Mame. The characters are bright and bubbly, the clothes are fancy and the sets are lavish (albeit unnaturalistically stylised). Even the lighting gets in on the action. At the end of almost every scene, the stage lights are completely dimmed except for a single spotlight illuminating Mame's face, which I can only assume is intended to symbolise her constant need to be the centre of attention.

As if to match the title character's own flightiness, the story itself moves around a lot, almost as if it were a series of anecdotes told to us by an outside observer. Despite some farcical elements, it has the feel of a real-life biography, which at first glance, seems to be confirmed by the fact that the author of the source novel is one Patrick Dennis, which is the same name as Mame's nephew in the film. It turns out, however, that's merely a pseudonym for Edward Everett Tanner, and while Tanner had an eccentric aunt, he repeatedly denied that Auntie Mame was based on her.

Rosalind Russell (pictured) delivers an accomplished performance in the titular role, showcasing her comedic ebullience while also finding moments to pull at our heartstrings. In fact, the entire cast all prove to be well versed in broad comic timing, providing plenty of double takes and light slapstick. Peggy Cass, in particular, stands out with her delightfully hilarious portrayal of the mousy Miss Gooch. Both Russell and Cass originated these roles on Broadway and both received Oscar nominations (for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, respectively) to pair with their Tony nominations two years prior. (Cass won the Tony, but not the Oscar. Russell lost both.) Along with those two acting nods, the film was also cited for Best Picture, as well as three deserving craft nominations: Color Art Direction, Color Cinematography and Film Editing. But just like fellow nominee Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, it failed to win a single Oscar from its six nominations.

1958 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Recently, I've had the opportunity to twice visit a cinema here in Sydney that I've written about before - the Ritz. On the weekend, I took the whole family to see a special screening of Inside Out 2 (I guess we contributed to the film's immense global box office numbers). And while I'm sure the Ritz's main revenue must come from new releases like that, it's one of the very few movie theatres in town that has a robust classic film program, including many 35mm and 70mm screenings. There's a complete Kubrick retrospective imminent, but it's the year-long Classic Matinees series that will likely see me returning often, as I did yesterday for the following film.

So let's take a look at another picture from 1958's Best Picture shortlist...


Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Director:
Richard Brooks
Screenplay:
Richard Brooks & James Poe
(based on the play by Tennessee Williams)
Starring:
Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives, Jack Carson, Judith Anderson, Madeleine Sherwood, Larry Gates, Vaughn Taylor
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

The wealthy Pollitt family gathers together at their estate in Mississippi to celebrate the birthday of patriarch Big Daddy (Ives). Brick (Newman), a morose and alcoholic ex-athlete, pines for his glory days while neglecting his wife Maggie (Taylor). Consequently, the couple have no children, while Brick's brother Gooper (Carson) and his wife Mae (Sherwood) have five with another on the way. With Big Daddy's ailing health on everyone's minds, the family's long-held secrets begin to emerge.

While my usual gripe about stage adaptations is indeed applicable here, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof finds a way to be captivating despite those issues. There are plenty of long scenes heavy with dialogue, and while some of them test the audience's patience, others contain such high levels of tension that we almost don't want them to end. On the other hand, the theatricality is very apparent in the direction. Brick, in particular, is often seen staring past the camera with his brooding blue eyes as another character pontificates directly behind him. Staging like this might be a necessity in the theatre, where there is no fourth wall, but on screen, perhaps because it is so closely associated with soap operas, it can seem superficial and melodramatic.

Tennessee Williams, esteemed author of the source material, was apparently displeased with what he considered to be a watered down version of his play. Despite my experience with and love of the theatre, I was shamefully not all that familiar with the play, so while watching this film, it wasn't immediately obvious to me why Brick was experiencing such inner turmoil. Reading between the lines, I suspected that there was more to the relationship between Brick and his late buddy Skipper, but that topic of discussion was treated so vaguely, I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it. I'm not entirely sure the blame for that should be with the filmmakers, though. While 1950s Hollywood had begun exploring civil rights (as evidenced by fellow nominee The Defiant Ones), homosexuality on film was still very much in the closet, so to speak, thanks to the draconian Hays Code. And considering how greatly the characters expound on the topic of mendacity, there's an amusingly appropriate irony in the fact that a film about secrets was forced to keep one of its own.

The performances by each and every one of this accomplished ensemble are phenomenal. Everyone has their moment to shine. Paul Newman (pictured) is spectacular, expressing volumes with beautiful subtlety. Judith Anderson is also a standout as the matriarch trying to keep her family life in tact. Others of note are Jack Carson as the oft-dismissed brother fighting for his share, and Burl Ives, reprising the role of Big Daddy from the original Broadway production. Both Newman and Elizabeth Taylor garnered Oscar nominations for their lead performances. The film also snagged nods for Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay and Color Cinematography, but walked away empty-handed.

1958 - The Defiant Ones

As I begin this review of a film directed by the late, great Stanley Kramer, I am reminded of the time that Kat and I briefly lived next door to his widow, Karen Sharpe. For one year in Los Angeles, we exchanged pleasantries as we ran into each other outside our front doors, but I regret never inviting her over to hear all the stories she must have. I knew she was a former actress, having worked on a vast array of classic films and TV shows, though it wasn't until recently that I discovered she has also won a Golden Globe! Plus, I'm sure she has insight into the making of some of her husband's timeless movies (though maybe not the one reviewed below since it was made before they met). But alas, while she was always very pleasant and kind, I never heard any of those stories. There just never seemed to be enough time. Kat and I were occupied with a one-year-old child at home, and Karen seemed to remain very busy with industry events, so no dinner plans were ever made. Before long, we had another child and moved to a different neighbourhood, and then later again, we moved to a different country, so I suppose the chances of hearing those stories are even more remote now. A missed opportunity, perhaps. 

On that note, let's embark on our journey through the Best Picture nominees of 1958 by taking a look at...


The Defiant Ones
Director:
Stanley Kramer
Screenplay:
Nedrick Young and Harold Jacob Smith
Starring:
Tony Curtis, Sidney Poitier, Cara Williams, Theodore Bikel, Charles McGraw, Lon Chaney, Jr., King Donovan, Claude Akins, Lawrence Dobkin, Kevin Coughlin
Academy Awards:
9 nominations
2 wins, for Best Original Screenplay and Best Black-and-White Cinematography

When a truck transporting prisoners crashes, two of the convicts seize the opportunity to escape. African American Noah Cullen (Poitier) and Caucasian John Jackson (Curtis), chained together at the wrist, already have a sharp disdain for each other, but with a posse led by Sheriff Muller (Bikel) on their tail, they must work together to avoid capture.

Produced at the height of the US civil rights movement, The Defiant Ones makes no bones about its profound social commentary. Many of the sensitive themes remain relevant today, but I'm sure this film must have seemed downright shocking to some when it was released 66 years ago. Surprisingly, however, the story is also peppered with a great deal of humour, dry enough to never undermine the film's sincerity.

Today, of course, the ending (spoilers ahead!) would perhaps be considered overly sentimental and idealistic. Not just because it's unlikely that the two protagonists would both sacrifice their chance of escape for the other, but that it may be somewhat objectionable to wrap up a film exploring race relations with a nice neat bow, as if to suggest they've solved racism. That said, maybe the whole "hey, look, we used to hate each other but now we all get along" trope hadn't really cemented itself yet. Besides, the closing moments are genuinely heart-warming, largely attributable to the superb performances from the leads.

Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis (pictured together) bounce off each other brilliantly, both displaying great range. The Academy must have agreed since they each garnered a Best Actor nomination. As the compassionate and professional sheriff, Theodore Bikel shines, earning himself a Best Supporting Actor nod. Also worth mentioning is Lawrence Dobkin as the sharp-tongued newspaperman. The film's fourth acting citation went to Cara Williams in her supporting role as the lonely woman with no scruples. Lastly, keep an eye out for horror icon Lon Chaney, Jr. as Big Sam.

1983 - The Right Stuff

I'm once again back in Sydney, and with one more film to review in this review year, I clearly didn't meet the challenge I set myself a couple of posts ago, but it's still a comparatively quick turnaround for me, so I'll take it.

Our final film from the Best Picture shortlist of 1983 is...


The Right Stuff
Director:
Philip Kaufman
Screenplay:
Philp Kaufman
(based on the book by Tom Wolfe)
Starring:
Sam Shepard, Scott Glenn, Ed Harris, Dennis Quaid, Fred Ward, Barbara Hershey, Kim Stanley, Veronica Cartwright, Pamela Reed, Scott Paulin, Charles Frank, Lance Henriksen, Jeff Goldblum, Harry Shearer
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
4 wins, including Best Film Editing and Best Original Score

Air Force pilot Chuck Yeager (Shepard) joins the team of test pilots attempting to break the sound barrier, and soon becomes the first man to successfully do so. As the years pass, more pilots join the team, including Gordon Cooper (Quaid) and Gus Grissom (Ward), all trying to break each other's speed records. After the Russians launch the world's first satellite, the Space Race is on and NASA begins recruiting for its first space program. Yeager misses out, but Cooper and Grissom are selected, along with Marine John Glenn (Harris) and Navy pilot Alan Shepard (Glenn), among others. The Project Mercury astronauts are put through gruelling training, each hoping to be chosen for the first manned space flight.

I know I'm going to sound like a broken record, but The Right Stuff continues the trend of slow-moving plots that has been somewhat of a hallmark of 1983's Best Picture nominees. Though, since this picture is a sprawling epic, the story moves around in place and time quite significantly, covering a lot of disparate ground, so admittedly, the casual pace is not really noticed beyond the first act.

The film is dated a bit by its occasional electronic music (composer Bill Conti won his sole Oscar for this score) and cheesy dialogue, along with, at times, contrived and theatrical direction. While that might seem a tad unfair considering the film is four decades old, let's remember I'm comparing it to four other films from the same year, at least one or two of which avoid triteness.

I was also torn by the film's slightly shaky sense of genre. It seems clear that this is a drama, first and foremost, with the inherent gravitas that comes with any story about loading human beings into claustrophobic metal cans and thrusting them into space. But the tone frequently veers toward broad comedy, as in the near slapstick presentation of laughably inappropriate potential recruits for the space program. Or the sequence when Shepard is strapped in, awaiting lift-off, but desperately needs to pee. We see the anguish on his face and are then treated to shot after shot of people turning on hoses, pouring glasses of water, flushing toilets, and so on. It's honestly like something from Airplane (that's Flying High to my Aussie readers). Normally, I'm all about comic relief in serious stories, but I fear these segments stretch the limits of realism a bit too far, weakening the aforementioned gravitas. Then again, it's certainly entertaining, so as you watch, just be prepared to take some sharp genre turns.

Chalk up another great ensemble for 1983 Best Picture nominees. The Right Stuff features outstanding performances from the likes of Sam Shepard (who doesn't play Alan Shepard), Scott Glenn (who doesn't play John Glenn), Ed Harris and a young Dennis Quaid. The real Chuck Yeager even makes a cameo appearance as a bartender. And let's not forget the Abbott-and-Costello-like team of Harry Shearer and Jeff Goldblum (pictured, after having accidentally put on each other's jackets) who brilliantly provide much of the film's comic relief.

Finally, it would be remiss of me not to mention the picture's Australian connection. While I doubt it was actually shot there, there is a sequence that takes place in Western Australia as John Glenn makes his first orbit around the Earth. It was gratifying to hear some natural Aussie accents, including that of celebrated Indigenous Australian actor David Gulpilil, who American audiences may recognise from Crocodile Dundee.

1983 - The Dresser

I was 13 when I first visited Universal Studios, staring in fascination and excitement at all the sights on the studio backlot tour. I listened with eagerness as the tour guide announced which shows and movies were shot in each soundstage and outdoor set, particularly thrilled by Courthouse Square from Back to the Future. So, if you'd told 13-year-old me that one day I'd shoot a TV show on that very backlot, he probably would have fainted, but tomorrow, I'm pleased to announce, that is exactly what I'll be doing. (Contrary to my previous post, I am actually still in LA, having extended my trip by one week due to the aforementioned acting job.) I'll only be on set for one day, but to be working in the same location as so many iconic films and TV shows of the past will certainly be a career highlight.

Time now to discuss another contender in the 1983 Best Picture race...


The Dresser
Director:
Peter Yates
Screenplay:
Ronald Harwood
(based on his play)
Starring:
Albert Finney, Tom Courtenay, Edward Fox, Zena Walker, Eileen Atkins, Michael Gough, Cathryn Harrison
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

In the middle of World War II, a commanding Shakespearean actor (Finney), only ever referred to as Sir (though, presumably he has a real name), commands a repertory of players touring regional Britain. Always by his side is his long-suffering dresser Norman (Courtenay), who, while tolerating Sir's often cruel behaviour, is the only one Sir can truly depend on.

After a public outburst that shines a light on Sir's declining mental state and sees him admitted to a local hospital, the cast and crew assume that night's performance of King Lear will be cancelled, but when Sir discharges himself and shows up at the theatre, Norman convinces everyone that the show must go on.

It seems like I've been mentioning this a lot about the current batch of nominees, but The Dresser is another one that is not afraid to take its time. Being based on a stage play, it's not unexpected that there's a lot of dialogue, though for all the arguments and minor conflicts that occupy the first half of the film, it still feels like not much is happening. The main source of tension, namely whether or not Sir will be fit to actually perform, seems to ebb and flow several times without ever really escalating. We find ourselves a good hour into the story before the show finally does go on, and from here, the excitement picks up with some higher stakes, including the ominous presence of an air raid directly outside the building.

As an actor who has performed in many theatrical productions in my time, I was somewhat puzzled by the lack of realism in certain scenes, particularly considering many on the creative team behind this picture were theatre veterans. If I ever talked as loudly as Norman does backstage, the stage manager would have had my head off. But that's nothing in comparison to a later scene in which Sir exits the stage in a fit of rage, yelling at the top of his lungs, and nobody even flinches. Even the actors still on stage simply continue the play as the audience seems to have not heard a word of Sir's tirade. Quite the suspension of disbelief. On that note, the crux of the film's main relationship is itself difficult to digest. Sure, I know it's sort of the point, but it's hard to believe that Norman - and so many of the other characters, for that matter -  has such a deep love and reverence for such an ungrateful cantankerous prick.

The Shakespearean acting from all the cast is delightfully over the top as one imagines it must have been in the UK in the 1940s. However, that overwrought extravagance seeps its way into the offstage scenes, as well. Tom Courtenay is blatantly camp, and Albert Finney at times seems excessively bombastic. Then again, taking into account the larger-than-life character he is portraying, I can concede the blustery performance is justified. The two leads imbue Norman's and Sir's oscillating relationship with a tender chemistry, and both received Best Actor nominations, to boot.

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 DeVito, 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.