1948 - The Snake Pit

Keep those votes coming in for the next year of review for Matt vs. the Academy. The poll remains in the right-hand sidebar for your voting pleasure.

Yesterday, my look at 1948's Best Picture nominees continued with a viewing of...

The Snake Pit
Director:
Anatole Litvak
Screenplay:
Frank Partos and Millen Brand
(based on the novel by Mary Jane Ward)
Starring:
Olivia de Havilland, Mark Stevens, Leo Genn, Celeste Holm, Glenn Langan, Helen Craig, Leif Erickson, Beulah Bondi
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
1 win, for Best Sound

As The Snake Pit begins, Virginia Stuart (de Havilland) is confused and anxious, seemingly unaware that she is living in a mental institution. She barely recognises her own husband Robert (Stevens) when he visits and only vaguely remembers the events of the past few months. With the help of Dr. Kik (Genn), she is treated with a variety of psychiatric therapies, including shock treatment, hydrotherapy and hypnosis. Her condition fluctuates as she moves from ward to ward, coping with brusque nurses, impatient doctors and the rambling behaviour of her fellow inmates. All the while, Dr. Kik continues to get to the bottom of her psychosis, uncovering psychological traumas in her past.

By today's standards, The Snake Pit is rather melodramatic, which is an unfortunate distraction from what is apparently a relatively accurate portrayal of the state of mental health practices in the United States at the time. The depiction of the asylum's horrific overcrowdedness comes as a result of reportedly intense research by director Anatole Litvak. One wonders, however, whether the wards within were so disparately appointed as they are here. The Snake Pit's sanatorium is positively labyrinthine; there's a fancy one-patient-per-room ward, a cluttered room-full-of-beds ward, and the messy pack-'em-in-like-sardines ward of the title.

Despite a semblance of reality in regards to the ways mental institutions were operated, the more specific details of individual patients' conditions is a little dubious. Several of Virginia's fellow inmates are bloated stereotypes of crazy people. Mind you, from my experience of the New York City subway system, I am perhaps being too critical. Also, while the treatments depicted in the film are probably authentic for the time, there are some inconsistencies in Virginia's recovery. Using my questionable knowledge as a psychiatrist's son, the patient initially presents with schizophrenic symptoms - paranoia and hallucinatory voices - yet her eventual recovery is more indicative of post traumatic stress disorder. While psychotherapy is indeed important in the management of schizophrenia, it seems unlikely that the delusions would dissipate without medication. But I'm nitpicking. The doctors in question are entirely unaware of the ill effects of smoking, perpetually offering patients cigarettes, so it is obviously unfair to expect them to consider as yet undiscovered psychiatric treatments.

Although clearly a drama, The Snake Pit's conclusion is very much akin to a whodunit mystery. Using voice-over narration as we see flashbacks, the detective (in this case, Dr. Kik) exposes the culprit (in this case, the cause of Virginia's condition), summarising the solution to the crime. It's a realistically complex solution with many factors coming into play to cause her illness.

Sporting an almost constant look of fearful confusion, Olivia de Havilland (pictured) is certainly animated. Despite her histrionics, the performance remains effective. Leo Genn (last seen here in Quo Vadis) is wonderfully natural as the kindly doctor. Also worth a mention, Helen Craig delivers a delectable performance as the disdainful nurse, paving the way for Nurse Ratched.

1948 - The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Well, I'm back in Las Vegas, making stuff up on stage with the rest of the cast of Aussie Improv Comedy Explosion. The weather is certainly much more agreeable than in New York City, but the trade-off is the increased static electricity due to the dry desert air. And, unfortunately, it is next to impossible to avoid touching metallic objects, so the sparks are flying.

You can now put your request in for the next year of review by using the poll over there on the right. You have your choice from a bunch of fine 1980s films.

For now, let's begin our look at the Best Picture nominees from 1948 by discussing...

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
Director:
John Huston
Screenplay:
John Huston
(based on the novel by B. Traven)
Starring:
Humphrey Bogart, Walter Huston, Tim Holt, Bruce Bennett, Barton MacLane, Alfonso Bedoya
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
3 wins, including Best Director and Best Supporting Actor (Huston)

Fred C. Dobbs (Bogart) and his new buddy Bob Curtin (Holt), both down on their luck, spend a few weeks working construction but their employer (MacLane) skips out on them before they get paid. After a chance meeting with veteran gold prospector Howard (Huston), the three set off to find a small fortune in the Mexican mountains. They quickly hit pay dirt, but as their gold intake increases, paranoia begins to take over. Dobbs is especially distrusting of his partners, frequently imagining they plan to steal away with his share. The trio contend with bandits, nosy Americans and each other as they attempt to make it home with their treasure.

It is no surprise that The Treasure of the Sierra Madre has become such a classic. A well-crafted, easy-to-follow story, the script is tight and engaging. The action sequences are brief but thrilling, from a tense three-way fight scene (despite awkwardly low volume sound effects) to an unexpected mine collapse.

Clearly, the narrative is aiming to study the dark psychological effects of greed. Dobbs serves as a sad reminder of what money can do to people. However, his transformation from subservient humility to arrogant paranoia is improbably swift. One minute, he's reasonable. The next, he's certifiably insane. Curtin, on the other hand, remains circumspect, a far more subtle and realistic response. But notwithstanding the fact that the Dobbs character borders on caricature, it is jolly good fun to watch as he unravels.

Bogart is compelling despite the exaggerated nature of his character. His snarls (pictured) are ferocious and his laughter is discomforting. Walter Huston won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his amiable performance as the seen-it-all prospector. Tim Holt portrays Curtin's likeability with affecting subtlety. And, as the comic relief, Alfonso Bedoya is delightful as the leader of the bandits, delivering the now iconic (and oft misquoted) line regarding "stinkin' badges".

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre did well for the Huston family at the 1948 Oscars. Along with Walter's win, the film also garnered two wins for his son John for Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. In fact, of the film's four nominations, its only loss was for Best Picture.

Best Picture of 1973

Another set of nominees in the can and another verdict to be made. I must say that the decision this time around was one of the easiest I've had to make in quite some time. In my mind, there was a clear frontrunner that was simply the most enjoyable. Consequently, my verdict below is possibly the shortest I've yet written.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1973 are:

• American Graffiti
• Cries and Whispers
• The Exorcist
• The Sting
• A Touch of Class

Forget about trying to compare this bunch. Nominee shortlists have been diverse before, but 1973's selection is ridiculously multifarious. A 1960s coming-of-age comedy, a foreign arthouse film, a supernatural horror, a 1930s heist flick and a quirky romantic comedy.

Although, perhaps these films' commonality, with one exception, is in their sense of fun, albeit for entirely different reasons. American Graffiti's youthful fun is borne out of nostalgia. A Touch of Class delights with its witty and romantic fun. For those who get a kick out of a good fright, The Exorcist provides a fun and scary ride. On the other end of the spectrum, Cries and Whispers is intensely sombre. A fascinating film, but not one that many people would describe as fun.

The most fun of all, however, is The Sting. Playful and clever, it is terrifically entertaining cinema. From the script to the design to the cast to everything else in between, The Sting succeeds as a charming piece of escapism. So, just as the Academy did, I officially declare The Sting my Best Picture of 1973.

Best Picture of 1973
Academy's choice: The Sting	Matt's choice: The Sting

Your choice:

Please feel free to voice your opinion using the poll above or the comments section below. For our next adventure, we move back to the 1940s for yet another diverse selection of pictures. Your votes resulted in a tie between two contests, so I used my blogger's prerogative to settle the stalemate.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1948 are:

• Hamlet
• Johnny Belinda
• The Red Shoes
• The Snake Pit
• The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

This week, I'm heading back to Las Vegas for another stint with the Aussie Improv Comedy Explosion. But fear not, the Oscar-nominee-watching shall continue...

1973 - A Touch of Class

Last chance to vote for which year from the 1940s we will investigate next. The poll is over there on the right and down a little.

Closing out our current shortlist, the last nominee from the 1973 Best Picture race is...

A Touch of Class
Director:
Melvin Frank
Screenplay:
Melvin Frank & Jack Rose
Starring:
George Segal, Glenda Jackson, Paul Sorvino, K Callan, Hildegard Neil
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
1 win, for Best Actress (Jackson)

In the classic screwball style of 1940s Hollywood, A Touch of Class follows the shamelessly unfaithful Steve Blackburn (Segal), an American living with his family in London. By chance, he meets divorced English designer Vicky Allessio (Jackson) and, after sharing a flirtatious cab ride, they arrange a date. A couple of rendezvous later, Steve takes Vicky to a hotel for some, ahem ... action. Apparently unperturbed by beginning an illicit affair, Vicky is more concerned that a hotel room is not the ideally romantic place for it. No sooner does she suggest a weekend getaway together than Steve is on the phone organising a trip to Spain. After making excuses to his wife (Neil) and her visiting parents, Steve and Vicky head to the airport, where they hit a small stumbling block. An annoying old friend of Steve's named Walter (Sorvino) is flying to the same vacation spot. Encountering various other hindrances on their romantic getaway, the two forbidden lovers do their best to keep their affair fun and frivolous while trying to avoid the big question - what happens when they get back home?

Despite the overtly 1970s hair and fashion, A Touch of Class is reminiscent of those fast-paced screwball comedies of decades gone by. It's not difficult to imagine, say, Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn as the two smitten lovebirds, trading witty barbs and throwing clothes at each other. There are plenty of hilarious misunderstandings and slapstick pratfalls to keep the audience's journey fun and amusing. There are even elements of British farce, not surprising given the London setting. Yet, the film avoids venturing too far into the absurd, managing to convey sincerity when necessary.

What sets this picture apart from the screwball genre, however, is that Hollywood in the 1940s would never have gotten away with such blatant infidelity - certainly not when the adulterous man escapes the affair with no consequences. Granted, there are clearly psychological consequences as Steve alludes to in his telegram, but his wife is none the wiser about the whole ordeal, so presumably, they continue to play happy family. Which brings us to the film's unavoidable pitfall. As a romantic comedy, one expects the traditional happy ending, but when one of the participants in the romance is married with two kids and shows no desire to leave his wife, a traditional happy ending is out of the question. Things are going to get complicated. And that's more the territory of romantic drama, not romantic comedy. Of the two women in Steve's life, the audience has just spent an hour and a half getting familiar with the other woman, hardly getting to know his wife at all. Consequently, the conclusion is a little unsatisfying, if perfectly inevitable.

George Segal and Glenda Jackson both deliver the snappy dialogue with just the right amount of nonchalance. Jackson won her second Oscar (and a Golden Globe) for her intelligent performance, despite it not being traditional Oscar bait. Segal won a Golden Globe but received no love from the Academy for a portrayal that he does so well, that of the neurotic but likable everyman. Also endearing is Paul Sorvino as the bothersome but ultimately insightful friend.

1973 - The Exorcist

This week, I was fortunate enough to be working at an event at which Steve Martin was in attendance. I managed to serve him a plate of salmon while fighting the urge to hand him my headshot and resume. Along with last week's sighting of Alec Baldwin at a similar event, I have now rubbed shoulders with both of the hosts of last year's Oscars ceremony. (See? I managed to bring it back to the topic at hand.)

Yesterday, for the very first time, I closed the curtains to watch a modern horror classic that was nominated for Best Picture for 1973...

The Exorcist
Director:
William Friedkin
Screenplay:
William Peter Blatty
(based on his novel)
Starring:
Ellen Burstyn, Max von Sydow, Lee J. Cobb, Kitty Winn, Jack MacGowran, Jason Miller, Linda Blair
Academy Awards:
10 nominations
2 wins, including Best Adapted Screenplay

In keeping with previous decisions regarding which version of a nominee to review when there is more than one available, I snubbed the extended edition of The Exorcist - subtitled The Version You've Never Seen - in favour of the 25th Anniversary DVD, which appears to be the closest to the original theatrical release. Alas, I missed out on the famed spider-walk, a deleted scene that was restored for the 2000 re-release.

Film actress Chris MacNeil (Burstyn) has her hands full when her typically sweet 12-year-old daughter Regan (Blair) experiences occasional bouts of profane and violent behaviour. A team of psychiatrists offer mostly unhelpful solutions, dismissing Chris' insistent suggestion that her daughter may be possessed by an evil spirit. After the suspicious death of the director (MacGowran) of her latest movie, Chris suspects that her daughter's newfound demonic strength may be responsible. As Regan's condition worsens, Chris calls in the help of Father Karras (Miller), the Catholic church's resident psychiatrist, who, in turn, calls in a specialist, Father Merrin (von Sydow).

The Exorcist certainly takes its jolly time setting the scene. There is a rather extended period at the beginning of the film that is without a great deal of action. It's all important back story and character development, but since Regan's possession is such a gradual process, the film lacks the usual catalyst that kicks a story into gear... And that is almost definitely not an accident. As in all good horror movies, this long set-up provides the perfect amount of suspense, slowly building the tension so that when we finally glimpse Regan in all her possessed glory, it is that much more effective.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this is not a picture for the faint of heart. 'Disturbing' only begins to describe the creepy and disgusting things that appear on screen. In fact, Cries and Whispers is not the only 1973 nominee to feature the self-mutilation of female private parts. However, in this instance, it is a 13-year-old girl and the weapon of choice is a crucifix. Kudos to the special effects team who very effectively augment the distastefulness in this scene and several others. Nor is this a picture for the faint of ear. Some of the things that come out of that little girl's mouth would make Melissa Leo blush.

Director William Friedkin has worked hard at imbuing the story with a sense of realism despite its supernatural themes. (In fact, on the DVD, Friedkin introduces the film by rather laughably claiming it is loosely based on true events.) For the most part, this realism enhances the terror. However, I have to take issue with the utter ineptitude of the character of Lt. Kinderman, played by Lee J. Cobb. He appears to be the least thorough police detective on the force. During his investigation of a suspicious death, he dismisses natural causes out of hand despite admitting the albeit tiny possibility. When he asks Chris whether there may have been any visitors to the house, such as tradesmen, she explains that her housekeeper Karl takes care of those things. Rather than investigate further, Kinderman merely laments that the theory was a remote idea and not worth seeing through. To top it all off, before he leaves, he very unprofessionally asks Chris for an autograph. That's meticulous detective work right there.

The cast successfully do their part with naturalistic performances. In particular, young Linda Blair shows a flair for the natural in her pre-possessed scenes. She is then suitably freaky when called for, earning herself a Best Supporting Actress nomination. Jason Miller's brooding turn as the priest/psychiatrist is very impressive, worthy of his Supporting Actor nod. The third acting nomination went to a committed Ellen Burstyn as the highly distressed mother whose constant irritability, although completely justified given the circumstances, is a little ... well, irritating. Nonetheless, Burstyn is, as always, magnificent. Previous Oscar winner Mercedes McCambridge provides the voice of the possessing demon. And look out for the writer himself, William Peter Blatty, in a cameo as the producer of the film that Chris is shooting.