1942 - Yankee Doodle Dandy

As has become the norm lately, I've left the gap between posts grow so much that I now have too many things to talk about in my little preamble here. Especially considering that it's coming into awards season and there will be lots to talk about in the coming weeks. On that note, the first thing to mention is that Kat and I were lucky enough to be among the first audience to see the finished version of Les Miserables. Director Tom Hooper introduced the special screening, commenting (perhaps with hyperbole) that he had only completed the movie at 2 a.m. that morning. The film is quite simply amazing. With all the singing recorded live (rather than having actors pre-tape them, then lip-sync on set), the emotion of the incredibly dramatic songs is, at times, overpowering. This has Oscar written all over it. Anne Hathaway and Hugh Jackman, particularly.

Two acting gigs to mention. First, I shot a guest role on an episode of Law & Order: SVU last week. I play Counselor Andy Guthrie, a court-appointed attorney who is up against the hard-as-nails DA for a suburban district, played by Jane Kaczmarek (of Malcolm in the Middle fame). So much fun. The episode is due to air on January 9th on NBC.

Second, Kat's and my theatre company's latest play, Speaking In Tongues, has just opened to rave reviews (from Backstage and Show Business Weekly, among others). If you're in the New York City area in the next two weeks, come and see us. We play until December 16th.

With a couple of days off from performances, I watched the next nominee from the Best Picture shortlist of 1942...

Yankee Doodle Dandy
Director:
Michael Curtiz
Screenplay:
Robert Buckner and Edmund Joseph
Starring:
James Cagney, Joan Leslie, Walter Huston, Richard Whorf, Irene Manning, George Tobias, Rosemary DeCamp, Jeanne Cagney
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
3 wins, including Best Actor (Cagney)

A traditional biopic of Broadway pioneer, George M. Cohan (James Cagney), Yankee Doodle Dandy literally tells the story of his life. From his birth on the fourth of July to his regional vaudeville act with his parents (Huston and DeCamp) and sister (Jeanne Cagney) to his professional partnership with Sam Harris (Whorf) and his romantic partnership with Mary (Leslie) to his conquering of Broadway, the story is book-ended by a trip to the White House to meet President Roosevelt, who presents Cohan with the Congressional Gold Medal.

As you would expect from a decades-spanning biopic, things move relatively fast. Add to that the numerous musical numbers (including recognizable hits "Give My Regards To Broadway" and "Over There") and there's not much time to spend on any one incident in Cohan's life. Consequently, his ascent to theatrical success seems to occur without much struggle. Most problems sort themselves out rather quickly, partly due to Cohan's easy-going spouse, who hardly bats an eyelid when Cohan allows another woman to sing "Mary Is a Grand Old Name", a song he wrote for her.

The biggest conflict that arises in the picture is Cohan's arrogance as a fledgling performer, demanding better deals and causing lost contracts for his family. If Cohan as an adult were depicted in this way, the film may have been edgier, but Cohan outgrows this behaviour early on and, despite holding on to his passionate drive to succeed, he remains rather pleasant. And "pleasant" is a good word to describe the picture as a whole. Since Cohan is mostly a nice guy, the drama never gets particularly heavy, so the result is a film that puts a smile on your face, which, considering it is a musical, is probably its intent.

James Cagney is infinitely appealing in this role and is an impressive song-and-dance man himself, a sentiment the Academy clearly agreed with since they presented him a Best Actor Oscar. And in a bout of nepotistic casting, Cagney's real-life sister, Jeanne, plays his on-screen sister, Josie. Yankee Doodle Dandy's witty script is also worthy of attention, represented by the following random example of its dialogue: while in Switzerland, Cohan tries yodelling, describing it as "Nothing but hog calling with frost on it."

1942 - The Talk of the Town

Another long delay between posts. Così has finished, and Australian Made Entertainment has already begun preparations for its next production, Speaking In Tongues. So busy have I been in the interim that it took a hurricane to shut down everything else I've been doing and free up enough time to watch another movie. Although, it's now taken another week to actually write about it.

Fortunately, Kat and I, and our houseguest Susie, who clearly chose a horrible time to visit New York, were all safe and sound in our apartment during the storm. Even more fortunately, we never lost power, unlike many others in neighbouring counties and states, who lost that and a whole lot more. We're feeling very lucky.

So, with the winds blowing and the DVD player still working, we watched the first of 1942's Best Picture nominees...

The Talk of the Town

Director:

George Stevens

Screenplay:

Irwin Shaw, Sidney Buchman, Dale Van Every, Sidney Harmon

Starring:

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, Ronald Colman, Edgar Buchanan, Glenda Farrell, Charles Dingle, Emma Dunn, Rex Ingram

Academy Awards:

7 nominations

0 wins

Charged with arson and murder, innocent mill worker Leopold Dilg (Grant) escapes from police custody and convinces schoolteacher Nora Shelley (Arthur) to hide him out in her rental property. Inconveniently, Nora has rented the house to esteemed law professor and Supreme Court candidate Michael Lightcap (Colman) for the summer. Posing as the gardener, Dilg enjoys deep legal discussions with Lightcap and the two begin an unlikely friendship. With the help of Nora and his own lawyer, Dilg attempts to surreptitiously persuade Lightcap to get involved in the arson case, hoping his influence will help expose the truly guilty parties. Unsurprisingly, a love triangle develops, as both Dilg and Lightcap vie for Nora's affections.

The opening sequence of The Talk of the Town seems to set the film up as a noir thriller - a wrongly accused man escapes from police custody to clear his name and fight the oppressive corporate mastermind who tried to bring him down. The photography is dark and newspapers with big headlines twirl towards the camera every few seconds. Then almost immediately, farce and even some occasional slapstick well and truly take over, and the picture's screwball comedy nature reveals itself. However, the moral explorations still remain, particularly the question of whether it's ever morally right to disobey the law, and it is all mixed seamlessly together with the comedy to create a thoughtful and entertaining story.

The film received an impressive seven Oscar nominations, including a Best Picture nod, but was unable to convert any of them into a win. Somewhat surprisingly, with so many nominations, none were for the actors, despite appealing performances from the three leads. Cary Grant is affable (as usual), even with such a passionate cause. The delectable Jean Arthur is adorably goofy as the girl trying to hold it all together. But Ronald Colman's nonchalant delivery steals the show, a truly elegant gentleman. And look out for a very young Lloyd Bridges playing a pushy reporter.

Best Picture of 1971

My good intentions of wrapping up this year of review quickly have clearly failed. Who would have thought producing a play would be so all-encompassing? Così, the play in which Kat and I are acting in and producing is now in its final week and I'm finally beginning to come up for air. We've had some great reviews and wonderful audiences, so if you're in New York City, get your tickets to the madness. We play until Sunday.

Now, at long last, let's review the latest contenders...

The nominees for Best Picture of 1971 are:

• A Clockwork Orange
• Fiddler on the Roof
• The French Connection
• The Last Picture Show
• Nicholas and Alexandra

All five are extremely entertaining films, fine examples of their respective genres, and interestingly, all five essentially end on downers. Perhaps the Academy was feeling depressed in 1971. Between getting kicked out of their hometown, failing to catch the bad guy and being executed, the protagonists in these films don't experience your typical Hollywood endings.

In no particular order, I will remove from competition Nicholas and Alexandra, an exquisitely presented and sumptuously designed period epic and The Last Picture Show, an engrossing slice-of-life coming-of-age drama. A tougher choice is the decision to eliminate Stanley Kubrick's dystopian masterpiece A Clockwork Orange, whose heavily stylized tone, while fascinating, keeps the audience at a distance.

Perhaps it's a guilty pleasure, but Fiddler on the Roof remains a very comfortable film for me, warm and inviting. Yet it will give way to the utterly gripping The French Connection. Despite its intensely unsatisfying ending, this cop thriller is so edge-of-your-seat brilliant that it could have ended with aliens inexplicably landing on earth destroying the entire planet and I still would have picked it as my favourite Best Picture nominee of 1971.

Best Picture of 1971
Academy's choice: The French Connection	Matt's choice: The French Connection

Your choice:

What is your favourite among this fine bunch of nominees? Have your say in the poll above. Next up (and be patient, it might be a while before I get to it) we move back to a golden era of Hollywood for a selection of classics.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1942 are:

• The Invaders
• Kings Row
• The Magnificent Ambersons
• Mrs. Miniver
• The Pied Piper
• The Pride of the Yankees
• Random Harvest
• The Talk of the Town
• Wake Island
• Yankee Doodle Dandy

Stay tuned...

1971 - The Last Picture Show

Rehearsals are well under way for Cosi, the first production of Australian Made Entertainment, the theatre (and eventually, film) company that Kat and I recently formed. We begin performances on September 7 in New York City, only three and a half weeks away, so if you're going to be in the area, get your tickets now.

We now turn our attention to the final nominee from the Best Picture race of 1971...

The Last Picture Show
Director:
Peter Bogdanovich
Screenplay:
Larry McMurtry and Peter Bogdanovich
(based on the novel by Larry McMurtry)
Starring:
Timothy Bottoms, Jeff Bridges, Cybill Shepherd, Ben Johnson, Cloris Leachman, Ellen Burstyn, Eileen Brennan, Clu Gulager, Sam Bottoms, Sharon Taggart, Randy Quaid, Joe Heathcock
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
2 wins, for Best Supporting Actor (Johnson) and Best Supporting Actress (Leachman)

Contrary to my usual rule, my viewing of The Last Picture Show was of the director's cut, not of the original version that played in cinemas in 1971, which appears to be difficult to find. Nonetheless, with only seven minutes of additional footage, I think we can let it slide.

It's 1951 in a small town in Texas. Sonny Crawford (Bottoms) is a senior in high school and doesn't really have any plans, either for tomorrow or for the rest of his life. His best friend Duane (Bridges) is dating the spoiled Jacy (Shepherd), a strained relationship if ever there was one. After Sonny breaks up with his girlfriend Charlene (Taggart), who he never really cared about anyway, he begins an affair with his football coach's middle-aged wife Ruth (Leachman). Stumbling from one day to the next, Sonny impulsively takes a trip to Mexico with Duane, takes over the town's pool hall, begins a flirtation with Jacy, and generally comes of age.

Being set in the early 1950s, director Peter Bogdanovich cleverly replicates the style of film-making during that era. The film is shot in black-and-white and, during some of the darker scenes, the lighting often employs that stark contrast effect in which an actor in close-up moves in and out of a small sliver of bright light. The performances, too, are sometimes filled with a 1950s bravado and enthusiasm, typical of the acting style back then.

However, the most fascinating element is the incongruity that results from the pairing of this nostalgic style with the solemn and crude subject matter. During the actual time period, it seems unimaginable that such sexuality and bad language would have appeared on film, but twenty years later, without the shackles of censorship, The Last Picture Show is free to create a sobering look at life in a small town. Stylistically, though, it remains in the 1950s, creating a slight feeling of unease.

The story certainly doesn't rush. With its slice-of-life approach, the characters plod along, experiencing things unfolding without any main driving goal at the forefront of the plot. Which is not to say that nothing happens. The film is full of major events, and considering the plight of the younger characters, could easily be described as a coming-of-age story - kind of a cruder small-town version of American Graffiti. Sex is clearly a focus, particularly the awkwardness of first encounters, but in no way could it be said that any of the sex scenes in this picture are actually sexy. In one scene, for instance, our attention is directed toward the awkward noises of the squeaking bed as one participant attempts to hold back tears.

Timothy Bottoms (pictured) carries the film well with a very understated performance as a young man trying to make sense of his world. He is joined by several young stars in the making. Cybill Shepherd, in her film debut, is extremely effective as the manipulative girl with powerful eyelid-batting skills. Also on debut, Randy Quaid is delightfully awkward as the patient rich kid. Jeff Bridges deservedly scored his first Oscar nomination for his breakout role, but was beaten to the Best Supporting Actor trophy by his co-star Ben Johnson, who delivers a moving performance as the surrogate patriarch. The film also received two Supporting Actress nominations, the first for Ellen Burstyn's fantastic portrayal of a woman attempting in vain to prevent her daughter from making the same mistakes she made. Cloris Leachman clinched the Oscar, though, with an incredibly touching performance, capped off by a memorable outburst near the end of the film. And yes, that's Magnum P.I.'s right-hand man, Higgins (a.k.a John Hillerman) as the school teacher at the beginning.

For a bit of extra trivia appropriate to this blog, some of the characters in the film attend a screening of Father of the Bride, which is itself a Best Picture nominee.

1971 - The French Connection

It's not often the timing works out that one of the nominees from a year I'm currently reviewing happens to be scheduled for a retrospective screening in New York City during that time. Such was the case with the next subject of review, which had a one-day only engagement at BAM Rose Cinemas, which, if memory serves, is a Matt vs. the Academy first. Of course, had I been speedier with my look at the rest of the nominees, I would have been entirely finished with the current year of review and missed the opportunity all together. In any case, it certainly was a thrill to see this picture up on the big screen. In fact, I worry that it may give this film an unfair advantage in my final verdict, since the experience of watching a movie in a darkened cinema is far more all-engrossing than watching on a smaller screen at home, susceptible to all sorts of distractions.

Advantage or not, here are my musings on this nominee from the 1971 Best Picture race...

The French Connection
Director:
William Friedkin
Screenplay:
Ernest Tidyman
(based on the book by Robin Moore)
Starring:
Gene Hackman, Fernando Rey, Roy Scheider, Tony Lo Bianco, Marcel Bozzuffi, Frédéric de Pasquale, Bill Hickman
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
5 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor (Hackman)

Narcotics cop "Popeye" Doyle (Hackman) and his partner Russo (Scheider) become suspicious of small business owner Sal Boca (Lo Bianco) after they witness him entertaining mob men known for drug trafficking. Acting on a hunch, they trail Boca, following lead after lead, eventually uncovering a drug smuggling ring, headed by French crime boss Alain Charnier (Rey). Committed and determined, Doyle leads the charge to bust Charnier and his henchmen, at often dangerously high risk.

Gritty and realistic, The French Connection delivers an almost documentary-style story, complete with shaky, hand-held camera work and voyeuristic, fly-on-the-wall long shots. Everything is raw and unpolished from the performances to the design. Even the film print I saw was dirty. I realise, of course, that the Blu-ray is probably crystal clear, but the graininess of the film print actually seemed strangely appropriate for this picture, possibly even enhancing the viewing experience.

The details of the drug ring central to the plot may be complex but, at its heart, The French Connection employs a solidly simple cops-and-robbers story, or more accurately, cops-and-drug-traffickers. Most of the scenes consist of some variation of a cop following a criminal, whether it's tailing an alleged conspirator or an out-and-out chase scene, and consequently, the tension is extremely high throughout. Of particular note is the suspensefully amusing on-the-train, off-the-train sequence when Doyle unsuccessfully follows Charnier into the subway. And, of course, later comes the legendary chase scene which begins with Doyle flagging down a passing motorist and hijacking his car, a Hollywood cliche that is thankfully forgotten quickly as the chase gets under way. Then comes some of the most exhilarating few minutes ever committed to celluloid as we follow along in the backseat of the car as it careens underneath an elevated track attempting to keep up with the speeding train above. Listening to director William Friedkin and others talk about the making of this sequence, it's easy to understand why it feels so spectacularly authentic.

If there's one gripe I have about The French Connection, it would have to be the conclusion. I have talked about unsatisfying endings a fair amount in the past, but this picture's ending really takes the cake. It could even be said that it doesn't really have an ending. We spend almost the entire film watching Doyle and his colleagues chase the bad guys only to have a caption inform us that the main antagonist escaped and was never found. Not only that but in the final nail-biting scene, Doyle accidentally fatally shoots one of his own team, and the closing credits begin less than a minute later with barely an acknowledgement of the severity of such a turn of events, let alone a resolution. Luckily, the rest of the film is so profoundly engrossing. Plus, there's the fact that the story is loosely based on real events, so I suppose I should be more lenient.

As I mentioned, the performances are emotionally pure and candid with a distinct improvisational feel, adding to the documentary style of the picture. It is Gene Hackman's (pictured) film, however, and he is nothing short of sublime, well deserving of his Best Actor Oscar for this role. For the trivia buffs, Eddie Egan, the real cop on whom the character of Doyle is based, appears as the detectives' supervisor, Walt Simonson. Egan's real-life partner, Sonny Grosso, himself the basis for the Russo character, also appears in a minor role.