Thursday, May 9, 2024

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.

Saturday, April 27, 2024

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.

Sunday, April 21, 2024

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.

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

1983 - Tender Mercies

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

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


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

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

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

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

Monday, April 15, 2024

Best Picture of 1991

Yet another review year that I left to drag on for two years. In the time it took me to watch these five films, the Academy added another 20 to my list. Obviously, at this rate, I'll never finish this crazy assignment I've set myself. And after some quick calculations, I reached the sobering conclusion that even if I watch just one movie a week from now on, it'll still take me another eight years to finish. Well, I don't know if I'll be able to achieve that one-a-week rate consistently, but I'm certainly going to try to cram in as many viewings as I can during this current trip to LA. Anyway, enough moaning. Let's get into this current verdict.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1991 are:
  • Beauty and the Beast
  • Bugsy
  • JFK
  • The Prince of Tides
  • The Silence of the Lambs
1991's nominees are definitely an interesting bunch. I'm a proud movie buff, so like always, I enjoyed each of these films, despite recognising that perhaps some of these films may not have received a nomination if they were released in another year. In fact, I'm surprised that Thelma & Louise, another classic from 1991, didn't knock one of these five aside to secure itself a nod. I think this verdict may have been a lot tougher if it had.

Entertaining as it was, The Prince of Tides will be the first to be culled. It had many beautiful and affecting moments, but its reliance on melodrama took it down a notch for me. Two films that perfectly encapsulated their respective genres - Bugsy with its moody film noir tones, and Beauty and the Beast with its exquisite musical animation - are the next to be set aside.

Thus, the showdown is between one of the most seminal films of my adolescence and one of the most seminal films of the 1990s in general. JFK was an obsession of mine as a teenager. I was engrossed in its mystery as well as the incredible artistic achievement of its cinematography and editing. However, I can acknowledge now that much of its three-hour runtime is spent in perpetual exposition. Consequently, in agreeance with the Academy, The Silence of the Lambs, a paragon of the thriller genre with its disturbing tension and gripping misdirects, will be officially named my favourite Best Picture nominee of 1991.
Best Picture of 1991
Academy's choice:

The Silence of the Lambs

Matt's choice:

The Silence of the Lambs


Your choice:


Feel free to let the world know your opinion using the poll above or the comments below. And now we travel back in time just a few years earlier to land on what might be one of the most homogeneous shortlists the Academy has put together. With its myriad relationship dramas, it's the nominees from 1983, a year I've chosen for what seems to be the most common reason I ever choose a review year: there's a local screening of one of the contenders.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1983 are:
  • The Big Chill
  • The Dresser
  • The Right Stuff
  • Tender Mercies
  • Terms of Endearment
Stay tuned...