Best Picture of 1983

Without question, this has been the quickest year of review in this blog's recent history. It took six weeks from first review to verdict, which may not sound that impressive until you consider that the last time I completed a review year in less time was just over nine years ago!

The nominees for Best Picture of 1983 are:

• The Big Chill
• The Dresser
• The Right Stuff
• Tender Mercies
• Terms of Endearment

As I watched the five films in contention for 1983's big prize, there were two common themes that became apparent. First, from a genre perspective, each picture could easily be classified as a character  (or characters) study. They all drill down deep into what makes people tick, and with the possible exception of The Right Stuff, relationships are at the forefront of that exploration. Second, none of these films shy away from taking their time to tell their stories. Each movie embraces a leisurely pace at some point - or in some cases, at many points - during their runtimes.

One might expect with such similarities that choosing a favourite among them would prove difficult. However, despite their connections, they remain sufficiently distinguishable, so let's get to the task at hand. First to be set aside is The Dresser, which is somewhat surprising, I suppose. As an actor myself, I certainly have an affinity for films about the theatre, but this one was ironically a tad too theatrical for my liking. Next to go is Tender Mercies, despite its wonderful Oscar-winning lead performance. I'll also lose The Right Stuff while noting how captivated I was by its epic yet personal story.

The Academy selected Terms of Endearment as its pick of the year, a worthy choice that is difficult to argue against. With the trifecta of superb acting, writing and directing, it's a classic tearjerker, deserving of its iconic status. But in my opinion - and that's what this whole blog is about, after all - The Big Chill pulls at just a few more heartstrings to tip it over the edge. A brilliant ensemble working off a charming and touching script. Consequently, The Big Chill will officially be named my favourite Best Picture nominee from 1983.

Best Picture of 1983
Academy's choice: Terms of Endearment	Matt's choice: The Big Chill

Your choice:


Let me know your pick of this bunch in the poll above. Next up, we move to a year in which I've previously seen only one of the contenders, and since these films are all arguably cinema classics, I'll be glad to fill in those gaps in my classic film watch history.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1958 are:

• Auntie Mame
• Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
• The Defiant Ones
• Gigi
• Separate Tables

Stay tuned...

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.