1994 - Quiz Show

The next year of review is finally under way, which means the new poll to decide the year of review after this one is ready for your votes. Just shift your eyes over to the right.

Yesterday, I began the task of sorting out the Best Picture nominees from 1994 by watching...

Quiz Show

Director:

Robert Redford

Screenplay:

Paul Attanasio

(based on the novel "Remembering America" by Richard Goodwin)

Starring:

John Turturro, Rob Morrow, Ralph Fiennes, Paul Scofield, David Paymer, Hank Azaria, Christopher McDonald

Academy Awards:

4 nominations

0 wins

Based on the real events surrounding the game show scandal of the late 1950s, Quiz Show follows the charming and intelligent Charles Van Doren (Fiennes) as he decides to take a shot at being a game show contestant. The producers at Twenty One (Paymer & Azaria) love his all-American vibe and the fact that his father (Scofield) is a Pulitzer prize-winning poet. Not to mention he would be a far more ratings-friendly champion than the current schlub Herb Stempel (Turturro). So, in order to make sure Van Doren ousts Stempel, they offer to ask Van Doren questions to which he already knows the answers. On moral grounds, he declines, preferring to beat Stempel fair and square, but the producers ignore him and go ahead with the deceitful plan anyway.

It's show time and host Jack Barry (McDonald) asks Van Doren a familiar question. In the heat of the moment, he pretends to contemplate the question and eventually answers correctly. And so begins a moral slippery slope as he agrees to be fed the answers prior to each show. A bitter Stempel attempts to blow the whistle on the scandal but he is all but ignored. His crowing, however, is enough to gain the attention of Harvard lawyer Dick Goodwin (Morrow) who then begins a Congressional investigation into the matter. Van Doren's fraudulent success on Twenty One eats away at him, but he continues to deny any allegations of corruption, a state of affairs that is further complicated by the cordial friendship he and Goodwin establish.

Quiz Show is one of those internal dramas that seems to defy the rules of dramatic tension. All the good screenwriting books will tell you to break up your story into action scenes and dialogue scenes to keep the pace of the narrative ebbing and flowing. Sometimes it's rapid-paced, then there's a breather. But before the audience falls asleep, you wake them up again with an exciting action scene. Put simply, when your characters have been talking for a while, throw in a car chase. However, Quiz Show contains almost no physical action whatsoever. In fact, major turning points in the film occur with just about every character on screen in a seated position. Almost paradoxically, though, there is a genuine sense of swift forward motion. The film is intensely gripping due to the internal struggles of its characters.

Robert Redford's exquisite direction creates a deliciously intriguing atmosphere. The morally ambiguous producers of the game show are introduced in darkly lit rooms and most of the back-room dealings are treated similarly. Redford makes clever use of the dolly zoom (as referenced in my musings on Jaws). But, whereas Spielberg caught Brody front on to accentuate the horror of what he saw, Van Doren's big moment is internal and hence, Redford places the camera behind him. But enough with the film-making lesson...

Redford also manages to maintain a very amiable tone despite the picture's intensity. Although, much of the credit for that belongs to screenwriter Paul Attanasio, whose script embodies another paradox: the funny drama. Consider Stempel's response to his wife when she craves more attention from him: "You want to be worshipped? Go to India and moo."

Ralph Fiennes (pictured) delivers a terrific performance as the conflicted Van Doren. But here's the film's (possibly only) flaw. Even though Fiennes succeeds in making Van Doren so incredibly likable, the character is a liar and a cheat. Yes, he feels guilty about the whole thing but he still tried to cover it up. The result was that I was torn about what I should feel about this guy. I could see he was troubled and ashamed by what he had done but I still felt icky about liking him. Don't get me wrong, it's a spectacularly fascinating study of a complicated man, but there was something slightly dissatisfying about the fact that he was the lead character. Of course, one could argue that Goodwin is the conscience of the film, but despite a superb portrayal by Rob Morrow, it's hard for an audience to fully get behind what is essentially an underwritten character. Goodwin is, in some ways, a mere observer. Mind you, none of that really matters considering how engrossing the picture is as a whole.

Adding to the film's intrigue is its curiously innovative casting, so I'll now spend a little more space than usual commenting on it. I've already mentioned the talented turns from Fiennes and Morrow. Rounding out the central characters is Herb Stempel, brilliantly portrayed with innocent volatility by John Turturro. Supporting that trio with comically sincere performances are David Paymer and Hank Azaria as the reprehensible producers. Then, in a delightfully ironic twist, Redford, who is far better known as an actor, fills two roles with actors who are far better known as directors. Martin Scorsese ably plays the slimy sales-focussed sponsor of the show and Barry Levinson is casually off-beat as NBC Today host Dave Garroway. To top it all off, the film is peppered with several familiar faces in minor roles, some of them unknown at the time, including Calista Flockhart as an adoring fan. The most curious cameo of all is an uncredited Ethan Hawke, whose twenty seconds of screen time is mostly spent off camera talking to Van Doren, Sr. Which brings us to the only performance in the film to be nominated for an Oscar, that of Paul Scofield, whose portrayal of the elder Van Doren is refreshingly simple yet immensely effective.

Best Picture of 1940

I'm now back in New York City after an exciting summer in Pennsylvania. My busy schedule during that time meant that reviewing this current selection of Best Picture nominees took well over two months, but after a much-needed recap of my musings, I'm now ready to make my decision on which of these entertaining films is most worthy of the top award.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1940 are:

• All This, and Heaven Too
• Foreign Correspondent
• The Grapes of Wrath
• The Great Dictator
• Kitty Foyle
• The Letter
• The Long Voyage Home
• Our Town
• The Philadelphia Story
• Rebecca

There's something to admire in each of these ten pictures. They all capture their respective moods very nicely, some more than others. A few have a slightly inconsistent atmosphere, though. In Foreign Correspondent, Hitchcock occasionally shines with some thrilling scenes, but not consistently enough for my taste. The Long Voyage Home contains some gripping sequences but feels disjointed as a whole. Likewise, Our Town has its moments, particularly towards the end, but its other flaws leave it a little wanting. Next out of the running is Kitty Foyle. While I would place it above the previous three films, it also suffers from a slight case of the not-quite-spectacular-enoughs.

Providing a stronger sense of direction are four classics that have stood the test of time - seven decades of time - and two rarely discussed and therefore surprisingly enjoyable pictures. All This, and Heaven Too is an intensely subtle romance tale, well worth a look for lovers of forbidden love stories. The Philadelphia Story is a classic screwball comedy, full of fun and humour, topped off with a charming cast. The Grapes of Wrath is a heartfelt story of one family's struggle that is both exciting and touching.

Then, there are two brilliantly moody mysteries. The classic, and eventual Oscar winner, Rebecca, is a filmmaking masterclass in how to create tension. The lesser known of the two, The Letter, deserves a greater place in film history than it received. Both are incredibly entertaining. But, for me, the winner is Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator with its ingenious blend of heart-wrenching emotion and slapstick comedy.

Best Picture of 1940
Academy's choice: Rebecca	Matt's choice: The Great Dictator

Your choice:

As always, you may voice your opinion on this slate of films by using the poll above. Next up is a selection of five films, most of which are extremely popular, so I foresee another difficult decision ahead of me.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1994 are:

• Forrest Gump
• Four Weddings and a Funeral
• Pulp Fiction
• Quiz Show
• The Shawshank Redemption

Hopefully, we can resume a normal tempo of movie-watching again. Then again, I probably shouldn't promise anything...

1940 - The Great Dictator

My time here in Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania is coming to a close - only three more days left. It has been an incredibly illuminating summer for me. Regional theatre in Australia does not operate the same way that it does in this country (mostly due to the smaller population) and hence, this was my first regional theatre experience. While I missed my home and, more importantly, my wife in New York City, it was definitely nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life for a few months. And, believe me, there is very little hustle and almost no bustle in Boiling Springs. Quiet living, for certain. The two shows in which I have performed have been a lot of fun. There's no denying that I love the stage. It's also been a welcome challenge to perform in musicals, a genre I rarely participated in until recently. Of course, it is the people with whom I have worked alongside that I will miss the most. It is those new friendships that have made my time here so pleasurable. Although, most of them are also based in New York, so there's really no need for this sentimental crap. Anyway, I will be glad to get back to the Big Apple next week and I eagerly await my next adventure.

It's been a long journey but I finally reached the end of the 1940 Best Picture competition by watching...

The Great Dictator

Director:

Charles Chaplin

Screenplay:

Charles Chaplin

Starring:

Charles Chaplin, Paulette Goddard, Jack Oakie, Reginald Gardiner, Henry Daniell, Billy Gilbert, Maurice Moskovitch

Academy Awards:

5 nominations

0 wins

Charlie Chaplin's parody of the Nazi regime, The Great Dictator follows the inner machinations of the Tomanian dictatorship, led by Adenoid Hynkel (Chaplin). Aided by his ministers Garbitsch (Daniell) and Herring (Gilbert), Hynkel aims to reduce the Jewish population of his country to second-class citizens, restricting them to a ghetto. Hynkel also seeks the support of Benzino Napaloni (Oakie), the dictator of neighbouring Bacteria, in his planned invasion of Osterlich. Concurrently, a Jewish barber (Chaplin again), once a soldier in the Tomanian army, now copes with persecution, along with love interest Hannah (Goddard). Strangely, the barber happens to look exactly like Hynkel, a coincidence that later proves to be incredibly convenient.

The Great Dictator is a fascinating study for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that it is Chaplin's first genuine talking picture, despite the new technology being available for more than a decade. However, he didn't completely let go of his beloved silent comedy techniques with several sequences in The Great Dictator devoid of dialogue. Indeed, the film speed is increased during some physical comedy scenes, reminiscent of silent era technology. Plus, Chaplin's familiar Tramp character is clearly represented in his portrayal of the Jewish barber, oversized clothing and all.

The most intriguing aspect of this seminal picture is its seamless blending of comedy and tragedy, and you don't get much more tragic than the Jewish Holocaust. Even though the worst atrocities had yet to be committed at the time of the film's release (in fact, production began only a week after war was declared), there are several very sobering scenes of human persecution to which Chaplin very cleverly introduces humour without making light of the situation. A key example is the scene in which the barber is forced by a couple of Hynkel's men to paint the word 'Jew' on his shop window. In lieu of a spoken refusal, the barber throws paint on the men and a slapstick routine ensues. The conflicting emotions felt as one watches this scene create quite a confounding sensation. And if this tragicomic mix weren't enough to sate your emotional appetite, there's a sweet love story thrown in. Roberto Benigni has a lot to thank Chaplin for.

Then, there is the fearlessness with which the Nazis are ridiculed. (Although, years later, Chaplin commented that, had he known the true extent of Hitler's atrocities, he could not have made the film.) Chaplin was defiantly critical of the Nazis at a time when the notorious party was at its most powerful. The U.S. had not yet declared Nazi Germany an enemy, yet Chaplin was clearly not afraid to speak out. While the names of the leaders are all changed for satirical purposes, as are the names of the countries, interestingly the term 'Jew' is retained, so there's no mistaking what this film is really about. To make the message even more abundantly clear, the powerful final speech lays it all out in no uncertain terms, almost as if Chaplin himself is speaking directly to his audience (pictured).

The film showcases Chaplin's brilliance superbly. He is impeccably silly during the hilarious faux German speech. His comic timing is on display during a delicately choreographed shave of a customer to the tune of a Brahms composition. And, of course, there is the well-known ballet dance with a balloon globe, a hypnotic and moving, yet cleverly metaphorical routine. He is well supported by the rest of the cast, in particular Jack Oakie, sporting an equally amusing silly accent as the faux Italian dictator. Billy Gilbert, a charmingly comical performer who enchanted me as the garage owner in One Hundred Men and a Girl, delivers a highly entertaining array of facial expressions as Hynkel's mostly incompetent Minister of War.

The actual narrative of the film remains somewhat unresolved, but perhaps this was an attempt to encourage the viewer to be active in changing the outcome of world affairs. If only...

1940 - The Grapes of Wrath

A few nights ago, I joined some of my cast mates to frequent a local Central Pennsylvanian bar. Unfortunately, I was turned away at the door for not having the correct I.D. You see, the law states that not only must all patrons be over the age of 21, but they must also be carrying an appropriate form of identification in order to confirm their age. Even if you clearly appear to be of age, you must still carry one of three acceptable forms of I.D., namely a military I.D., a passport or a state-issued I.D. (which includes a driver's licence). Well, I'm not in the military, my passport is back in New York and my driver's licence is from Australia. So, no luck there. I did, however, have my Green Card with me, but the gentleman behind the bar was kind enough to inform me that it was not state-issued. True. In fact, it is federally-issued, which you would think would hold more weight than mere state-issued items, but alas, his hands were tied. To add insult to injury, he made it clear that he could tell I was older than 21. "Way older" were his exact words. Thanks...

So, we went to another bar around the corner where the rules were more lackadaisical.

Yesterday, I managed to fit in another nominee from the 1940 Best Picture race...

The Grapes of Wrath

Director:

John Ford

Screenplay:

Nunnally Johnson

(based on the novel by John Steinbeck)

Starring:

Henry Fonda, Jane Darwell, John Carradine, Charley Grapewin

Academy Awards:

7 nominations

2 wins, for Best Director and Best Supporting Actress (Darwell)

Paroled after four years in prison, Tom Joad (Fonda) returns to his family's Oklahoma farm only to discover they are being driven out by greedy landowners. Such is life during the Great Depression. In search of work, the Joads load up their poor excuse for a vehicle and head for California, an area that they have heard is in dire need of fruit-pickers. The journey along Route 66 is far from smooth sailing and life in California is no picnic either. The family hops from town to town trying to make ends meet, fighting the working class fight.

A classic American film based on a classic American novel, The Grapes of Wrath is best described as solid. Solid story. Solid performances. Solid direction. The narrative is eventfully robust, teeming with activity at every turn, yet despite the action's varying nature, the picture still retains a strong sense of unity. One might even call it solid.

All this solidness does have its downfall, however, since it is partly achieved through highly stylised dialogue. It makes for some clean and delicate moments, but it also feels a tad methodical. Nonetheless, the Joads' action-filled journey kept me involved, outweighing the saccharine taste of the dialogue.

Henry Fonda in a comfortable newsboy cap (pictured) leads the cast with a strong portrayal of a determined man, chalking up his first Oscar nomination. It was co-star Jane Darwell, however, who won a Supporting Actress award for her affecting turn as the Joad matriarch. For pure entertainment value, it's hard to go past Charley Grapewin's antics as Grandpa Joad.

1940 - Our Town

Happy Anniversary! Last week marked one year since the inception of Matt vs. the Academy. Hurrah! I want to thank you all for reading thus far, especially during this slower period of recent weeks. You'll be glad to know (or maybe you won't care) that Mid-Life: The Crisis Musical opened last week and so I am finally free of rehearsals and therefore experiencing some free time.

I have taken advantage of said free time by continuing with my review of the 1940 Best Picture contest. Next up is...

Our Town

Director:

Sam Wood

Screenplay:

Thornton Wilder, Frank Craven, Harry Chandlee

(based on the play by Thornton Wilder)

Starring:

William Holden, Martha Scott, Fay Bainter, Beulah Bondi, Thomas Mitchell, Guy Kibbee, Frank Craven

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

0 wins

Grover's Corners is a typical small town in early 20th century New Hampshire. Quiet, simple living is the order of the day. Our narrator introduces us to several of the town's residents and their daily routines, paying particular attention to the ambitious George Gibbs (Holden) and the smart Emily Webb (Scott). As teenagers, Emily innocently helps George with his homework but, as they grow up, their relationship develops and soon, marriage is on the cards.

This picture is the first screen adaptation of the classic American play that appears on many school curricula, but being educated outside the United States and never having seen a stage production of it, I was not overly familiar with its story. Paradoxically, however, my initial reaction after watching the film was that it just wasn't as good as the stage version.

From the outset, there's a definite theatricality to the picture. Although there is something comfortably soothing about the opening narration from a fourth-wall-breaking character, the regular interruptions set you apart from the action. While this device is perfectly appropriate for the stage, it isn't always effective on film.

In addition, there is the age-old issue with which a lot of films adapted from the stage have trouble tackling - that of loquacious dialogue. In Our Town, there are many slow and languid conversations. Indeed, the script and performances lean toward the superficial and sentimental, and not just due to the film's old-fashioned temperament.

Having said all that, I experienced somewhat of a moment of clarity an hour into the story during the wedding scene when a series of inner monologues by several characters served to illustrate that their cheery dispositions were merely facades to cover up the misery and self-doubt they all feel. Suddenly, the theatricality made sense. The townsfolk were all putting on a show. Nonetheless, this moment of clarity soon gave way to more sentimentality as the film concluded with its sentimental message of "appreciate life while you're living it". Interestingly, I discovered that the final resolution differs quite markedly from the stage play, which contains a much bleaker ending. You can always count on early Hollywood to make the ending cheerful. (Although, in all honesty, I actually appreciated the pick-me-up after the downer that is the final act.)

The other major difference is that the stage version is intended to be performed with the use of only a minimal set, chairs and tables representing entire houses. Playwright Thornton Wilder expressed his desire to allow the emotion of the characters to be highlighted without relying on scenery for enhancement. This film adaptation, however, makes full use of its production designer with complete set pieces in every scene - odd, considering Wilder is credited as one of the screenwriters. Plus, the knowledge of the playwright's original intentions seems to fly in the face of my epiphany about the theatricality of the film. It would seem that Wilder specifically wanted to avoid theatricality. So, either the filmmakers missed the mark on this one or I completely misunderstood the whole thing. Now, I'm confused...