1971 - Fiddler on the Roof

As New York suffers through its current heat wave, being inside a theatre is a pleasantly cool place to be. On July 4th, Kat and I, along with a few friends visiting from out of town, took in a show, and what better show for Independence Day than Gore Vidal's The Best Man. The play itself was a little long and static (they still found time for two intermissions) but the star-studded cast made it all worth it. At 81 and 86 respectively, James Earl Jones and Angela Lansbury are as captivating as ever. And they share the stage with a veritable who's who of the sitcom universe - Will & Grace's Eric McCormack, Night Court's John Larroquette and Murphy Brown's Candice Bergen.

Meanwhile, in an air-conditioned apartment, I take a look at 1971's next contender for Best Picture...

Fiddler on the Roof
Director:
Norman Jewison
Screenplay:
Joseph Stein
(adapted from his book of the Broadway musical, which was based on stories by Sholem Aleichem)
Starring:
Topol, Norma Crane, Leonard Frey, Molly Picon, Paul Mann, Rosalind Harris, Michele Marsh, Neva Small, Paul Michael Glaser, Ray Lovelock
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
3 wins

In the small rural Russian town of Anatevka, a local Jewish milkman named Tevye (Topol) and his wife Golde (Crane) eke out a poor but relatively happy existence. One by one, their daughters begin to fall in love, causing Tevye not a small amount of angst, since his traditional views only allow for arranged marriages. His eldest daughter Tzeitel (Harris) wants to marry the poor tailor Motel (Frey) instead of the rich butcher Lazar Wolf (Mann) to whom Tevye has promised her. Tevye eventually relents, giving his permission, but when his second daughter Hodel (Marsh) doesn't even ask his permission to marry radical Perchik (Glaser), Tevye has more trouble accepting it. Finally, his third daughter Chava (Small) has chosen a non-Jewish man, Fyedka (Lovelock), for her partner and Tevye's limits are tested.

Watching Fiddler on the Roof immediately after fellow nominee Nicholas and Alexandra allowed for a fascinating comparison. While the two films are vastly different in genre and style, they both take place in early 20th century Russia during a revolution, albeit two separate revolutions. However, more fascinating is the fact that, despite their perspectives being on opposite sides - one from the Tsar's point of view, the other from a peasant's - the general theme of the story is strikingly similar. Both focus on a protagonist who struggles to hold on to tradition amid a changing world.

Regular readers may recognise my aversion to heavy religious content, yet I found Fiddler on the Roof pleasant and somehow comfortable, no doubt a result of my Jewish upbringing. Although, the affinity I have towards Jewish culture is definitely less to do with the religious elements and more so with the traditions, which, of course, this picture relishes. Plus, I have a strong familiarity with the soundtrack - probably more than any other musical - having grown up hearing those catchy tunes, so there is undoubtedly a nostalgic effect at work here, too. I don't mind admitting that I felt goose bumps as the music swelled for "Tradition".

Along with its outstanding music - which, incidentally, won prolific film composer John Williams his first Oscar, for Scoring Adaptation - the film also delivers some beautiful images, earning the Academy's Cinematography award as well. The sweeping Eastern European landscapes are featured heavily, but the campy dream sequence is particularly unique, looking like something from Rocky Horror.

For a stage musical, the song sequences are cleverly presented here on film, often making good use of the medium. Especially effective is Sunrise, Sunset, which is sung in voice over, the lyrics being treated as the inner thoughts of each of the characters. Similarly, Do You Love Me? proves the power of a well-written song coupled with clever direction. It is essentially a simple and genuine scene in which a man asks his wife if she loves him, only they both happen to be singing. Very touching.

Despite the many, many touching moments, including the penultimate scene, don't expect a traditional showstopping number to conclude this musical. The actual ending is a bit of a downer, truth be told, not just because of the plot, but because, after all the emotion and humour of the past three hours, it just sort of peters out.

It's hard to imagine anyone but Topol in this role. He is charming and passionate. I had the good fortune of seeing him on stage in this role in Sydney during his Australian tour a few years ago. His performance then was a little tired, which is perhaps forgivable since he had been playing the role for almost 40 years. However, in the film here, he is fresh and vibrant, garnering a Best Actor nomination from the Academy. Leonard Frey received the film's other acting nod for his effective portrayal of the timid tailor, Motel. And for the TV trivia buffs, yes, that's the original Starsky himself (Paul Michael Glaser) as the radical Perchik. Or if you're a Mad About You fan, you might recognise Burt Buchman (Louis Zorich) as the cowardly Constable.

1971 - Nicholas and Alexandra

After several months of planning, my talented wife Kat and I have finally launched our theatre company. Australian Made Entertainment will concentrate on producing Australian plays in New York City (and, considering my love of film, we will inevitably branch into movie-making as well). We have a theatre booked for our first show later this year, so stay tuned for more details. This blog will undoubtedly feature more announcements on behalf of the company but, in the meantime, visit our website, like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.

Kicking off our look at the Oscar nominees for the Best Picture of 1971 is...

Nicholas and Alexandra
Director:
Franklin J. Schaffner
Screenplay:
James Goldman
(based on the book by Robert K. Massie)
Starring:
Michael Jayston, Janet Suzman, Harry Andrews, Tom Baker, Michael Bryant, Maurice Denham, Jack Hawkins, Ian Holm, Curd Jürgens, John McEnery, Roderic Noble, Eric Porter, Michael Redgrave, Alan Webb, Irene Worth, Laurence Olivier
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
2 wins, for Best Art Direction and Best Costume Design

Presenting the final years of the Russian monarchy, the story of Nicholas (Jayston), the Tsar of Russia, and his wife Alexandra (Suzman) begins with the birth of their only son, Alexei (played as an older child by Noble), who is quickly diagnosed with haemophilia. Nicholas is eager for his son to take the reins of the monarchy upon his death, but two main issues stand in his way. First, Alexei's condition will probably see him die before his father, a possibility made more likely as Alexei's daredevil behaviour turns somewhat suicidal. Second, Russia's volatile political situation means there may not be a monarchy for Alexei to take over anyway. Nicholas' stubbornness leads him to ignore his advisors' consistent warnings of an uprising, and he chooses instead to believe that his subjects want and need a traditional monarch to keep them satisfied.

As its two design Oscars attest, Nicholas and Alexandra is visually splendid, following in the footsteps of the many sweeping epics of the 1960s. And as with all good epics, its extravagance is carefully balanced with introspection. In fact, at its heart, this is a personal portrayal of a family man struggling to hold on to his dying dynasty.

The picture's tone is unmistakably British. Everything is presented with such weight and sombre importance, leading to a highly effective final scene that pushes the boundary of how many times you can cut between people's faces and still call it suspense. It turns out the answer is quite a few. And it's those stoic British faces that make the film so compelling. Almost everyone's performance, even down to the young Roderic Noble, contains heavy emotion, but it's all behind steely eyes. It's as if they were specifically directed to keep any movement of facial muscles to a bare minimum.

Not to mention the power of the British accent. Instead of the expected Russian accent, all of the Russian characters speak with a perfect British cadence. And, to be honest, if you accept that they're speaking English, it's not such a big leap to accept their accent. In any case, the suspension of disbelief required is well worth the effect.

As mentioned, the cast consists of a great number of actors who perform their roles with piercing gravity. Indeed, there is a veritable cornucopia of well-known British thespians appearing in smaller roles, including Michael Redgrave, Irene Worth, Jack Hawkins, Eric Porter and the great Laurence Olivier. Classic Doctor Who fans will get a kick out of seeing Tom Baker (pictured) in his film debut as Rasputin. You may not recognise his face behind that fluffy beard, but his commanding voice is a giveaway. A young Brian Cox also makes his film debut as Leon Trotsky. Ian Holm, in an early screen role, competes for the most stoic performance of the film. He is trumped, however, by the film's lead, Michael Jayston, who remains the king of stoicism. Jayston carries the film brilliantly, delivering an incredibly moving outburst of shame in one pivotal scene. At his side for most of the story is Janet Suzman as Alexandra, who likewise offers an outstanding performance, achieving the film's only acting nomination.

Best Picture of 1959

The last year of review took me about three and a half months. I've knocked off about a month this time around, so hopefully that's a sign that things will move at a swifter pace from here on in... But don't quote me on that.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1959 are:

• Anatomy of a Murder
• Ben-Hur
• The Diary of Anne Frank
• The Nun's Story
• Room at the Top

Five nominees with vastly disparate subject matters, united by their intensity and thought-provoking themes. Despite this excess of gripping drama, it was the epic that presented itself as the clear front-runner, no doubt due to its legacy.

Perhaps not coincidentally, the other four films all offer conclusions that could in some sense be described as unsatisfying - not because of any error in the filmmaking, but rather that they're simply just downers of varying degrees. Each of the lead characters essentially fails to achieve what they really want, or if they do, they then realise it wasn't actually what they wanted. Don't get me wrong, though. The climaxes are inevitable given the stories. These four films needed to end the way they did, a large part as to why they are each so provocatively compelling.

It is ironic, then, that Ben-Hur's unsatisfying ending is indeed a story problem - a deus ex machina, to be precise. Nonetheless, the picture's epic nature somehow outweighs such flaws. While its intensity may not quite match the thoughtfulness of its fellow nominees, Ben-Hur is such a cinematic achievement in so many other ways that it's difficult not to call it my favourite Best Picture nominee of 1959.

Best Picture of 1959
Academy's choice: Ben-Hur	Matt's choice: Ben-Hur

Your choice:

Were you likewise swept away by Ben-Hur's glory, or did you find one of the other four nominees more worthy? Vote for your favourite in the poll above. It is time now to move forward a few years to the early 1970s to review yet another collection of modern classics.

And 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

If you'd like to follow along with me, check out these titles at Amazon.

1959 - Anatomy of a Murder

On Sunday night, my short film, Clicked, had its screening in competition at the Hoboken International Film Festival, although technically, the cinema at which it screened was actually located in Hoboken-adjacent Jersey City. As could be expected late on a Sunday evening in Jersey City, the turnout was not spectacular, a circumstance accentuated by the large auditorium. Nevertheless, the few movie-goers in attendance seemed to enjoy themselves and, post screening, I was even able to speak to one such attendee, who was modestly complimentary of the film, so I'll take it.

A light rail and four trains later, Kat and I made it back to Astoria, stopping in for an early breakfast at our favorite local haunt, Sanford's. Nothing quite like an egg, bacon and cheese sandwich at two in the morning.

Now we turn to the final nominee from the race to the 1959 Best Picture Oscar...

Anatomy of a Murder
Director:
Otto Preminger
Screenplay:
Wendell Mayes
(based on the play by John D. Voelker)
Starring:
James Stewart, Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara, Arthur O'Connell, Eve Arden, Kathryn Grant, George C. Scott, Orson Bean, Russ Brown, Murray Hamilton, Brooks West, Joseph N. Welch
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
0 wins

In a small town in Michigan, ex-district attorney Paul Biegler (Stewart) has been laying low for a while when Army wife Laura (Remick) requests his services as a defense lawyer for her husband Frederick Manion (Gazzara), who has been charged with the murder of local barkeeper Barney Quill. Manion admits the killing, thinking it might be able to be justified by the fact that Quill raped his wife, but after subtle direction from Biegler, the two settle on an insanity plea. In the courtroom, Biegler contends with the local D.A. (West) who has brought in the big guns in the form of respected prosecutor Claude Dancer (Scott).

With smart dialogue and an even smarter story, Anatomy of a Murder falls cleanly into the gripping legal drama category. Its central case is intriguingly complicated with many ups and downs, full of those clever and manipulative cross examinations that swing the pendulum back and forth between the defense and the prosecution. As one would expect, there's a lot of talking and very little action in the courtroom, yet the mood is never far from sultry thanks to Duke Ellington's inspired jazz score.

Despite the film's captivating charms, there is one relatively large sticking point that leaves a bit of a bad taste in your mouth. While it's easy to get behind the affable defense attorney (and, as played by James Stewart, could he be anything but affable?), the same does not apply to the defendant himself. Ben Gazzara's Manion is a little creepy, but the performance is not the problem. The main issue is that it's clear from the outset that Manion is guilty and that he's essentially inventing the insanity plea just to get off. It's never particularly convincing and, even with all the potent emotion surrounding his motive, the vengeful murder of his wife's rapist remains immoral.

Ultimately, the ending (yes, spoilers are imminent, so if you haven't yet seen the movie, skip this paragraph) confirms our initial suspicions. The jury finds in favour of the defendant, who doesn't even bother to pay his legal fees, leaving Biegler a sarcastic note instead. The implication, of course, is that Manion literally got away with murder. What makes it worse, however, is that Biegler's reaction is somehow inappropriately flippant. He just achieved an acquittal for a guilty man and merely shrugs it off. All that said, I suppose it's a testament to Preminger that the film remains so gripping despite such an unsatisfying conclusion.

Complementing Gazzara's effective portrayal of the devious Manion is Lee Remick as his alluring and enigmatic wife. Her sultry confidence in such unsettling circumstances is fascinating, making it consistently difficult to figure out how she's really feeling. George C. Scott shows his effortless power once again as the lawyer from the big city, earning his first Oscar nomination. Joining him as a Supporting Actor nominee is Arthur O'Connell, natural and amiable as the drunken comic relief. And then there's James Stewart (pictured), with his aforementioned affability, playing the determined and respectable lead, earning himself a Best Actor nod to boot.

1959 - The Nun's Story

It's hard to believe that it's already tech week for The Taming of the Shrew and that we open in three days. If you're in the New York area in the next three weeks, be sure to pop along and say hi.

We now take a look at another Best Picture contender from 1959...

The Nun's Story
Director:
Fred Zinneman
Screenplay:
Robert Anderson
(based on the novel by Kathryn Hulme)
Starring:
Audrey Hepburn, Peter Finch, Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Dean Jagger, Mildred Dunnock, Beatrice Straight
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
0 wins

The Nun's Story, as its title suggests, is the story of a nun. Gabrielle (Hepburn) is a stubborn young woman who, for some reason, chooses to enter a Belgian convent with hopes of serving as a nurse in the Congo. She endures the brutal identity-stripping training, struggling to keep up with what is expected of her, but thrives during science class as she learns all about tropical diseases. Despite topping the class, Sister Luke, as she is now known, fails to truly embrace a test of humility and is therefore deprived of her desire to be sent to the Congo. Instead, she is sent to assist at a mental hospital. Eventually, however, after proving herself, she is finally sent to the Congo where she is assigned to work alongside Dr. Fortunati (Finch). Her doubts continue to haunt her, though, especially as non-believer Fortunati challenges almost everything she has been taught.

It is perhaps unintentional, but there is a somewhat ominous feeling that pervades the first act of The Nun's Story. One by one, the rules of the convent are laid out and each one seems more cult-like than the last - give up all your possessions that elicit memories of your past, don't talk to the other nuns about anything but official business, make daily confessions about your unworthiness, rat out your fellow nuns when they commit even minor offences. It's like a sorority hazing. The most unsettling part is that it is considered strength to be able to obey all these rules.

The pace is relatively swift as Gabrielle makes her way through the various stages of becoming a nun, and moves from assignment to assignment. Then about halfway into the film, it settles down a little, made all the more watchable due to an affable performance by Peter Finch (pictured) who injects some life into an otherwise sombre picture. In fact, it all gets rather more fascinating at this point as Fortunati's presence affects Sister Luke in challenging and confusing ways.

If you're unfamiliar with this story, I recommend not watching the original trailer (or reading the following paragraph, for that matter). Assuming the viewer's familiarity with the source material, the trailer begins with the final scene from the movie, that of Gabrielle giving up her habit. After struggling for so long with the faith, the final straw seems to be the convent's order to remain neutral as World War II begins, something that Gabrielle finds excruciatingly difficult given her father was just killed by Nazis occupying Belgium. She admits that she's simply not cut out for the life of a nun, which seems to reaffirm that unsettling idea that one needs to be strong to give up one's past life and become a nun. However, as she literally hangs up her habit and walks out the door, there is a clear sense of Gabrielle achieving some semblance of freedom. To me, she proves her strength here by maintaining her identity and thinking for herself. It is a powerful and effective final moment.

The cast of The Nun's Story contains no less than five Oscar winners - Audrey Hepburn, of course, who won a few years earlier for Roman Holiday and was nominated again here; the excellent and natural Peter Finch, along with Beatrice Straight, who both won for Network; Peggy Ashcroft, a Supporting Actress winner for A Passage to India; and Dean Jagger, who had already won for Twelve O'Clock High. Also featured is perhaps the cutest blue-faced monkey I've ever seen.

1959 - The Diary of Anne Frank

Last week, I began rehearsals for Titan Theatre Company's production of The Taming of the Shrew, opening at the end of this month. In an unexpectedly exciting twist, the first read through was held at the historic club known as The Players. Over 120 years old, the club was the brainchild of famed 19th century American actor Edwin Booth, whose bedroom still exists on the upper floors of the club, reportedly untouched since his death in 1893. Quite a step back in time, let me tell you. Along with its incredible roster of famous past members, The Players is also noted for being the location at which Actor's Equity was covertly formed.

We turn now to another of the Academy's picks from 1959 for Best Picture...

The Diary of Anne Frank
Director:
George Stevens
Screenplay:
Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett
(based on their play, which was based on "The Diary of a Young Girl" by Anne Frank)
Starring:
Millie Perkins, Joseph Schildkraut, Shelley Winters, Richard Beymer, Gusti Huber, Lou Jacobi, Diane Baker, Douglas Spencer, Dodie Heath, Ed Wynn
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
3 wins, including Best Supporting Actress (Winters)

Based on the famous diary itself, The Diary of Anne Frank recounts the story of a young Jewish girl (Perkins) in Amsterdam who spends two years hiding from the Nazis in a small attic above a spice factory. Sharing the cramped quarters with her are her parents, Otto (Schildkraut) and Edith (Huber), and her sister Margot (Baker), along with Mr. and Mrs. Van Daan (Jacobi & Winters) and their teenage son Peter (Beymer). The claustrophobic living space causes many a strained relationship, compounded even further when they also take in Mr. Dussell (Wynn), a sullen old man who seems to get on everyone's nerves. Anne finds solace in her diary, reporting on the disagreements among her cohabitants, the near misses when Nazi officers search the building, and her budding relationship with Peter.

The Diary of Anne Frank is that rare example of a seemingly incompatible genre mash-up, the coming-of-age Holocaust movie. Interestingly, the focus on Anne's adolescent journey makes the story feel somehow less tragic than most films that tackle this subject matter. Not because it's not tragic, because it is, and I'll get to that later, but because there are several moments of sweetness and charm as Anne deals with her burgeoning romantic feelings, as well as the usual teenage angst and confusion.

In fact, the love story subplot is a clever misdirection, aiding in distracting us from the tragedy at hand, as it does for the parties involved. Mind you, it is a little disconcerting how maturely this romance is presented, complete with orchestral themes that seem more appropriate for a sweeping epic love story, full of passion and lust, rather than a teenage flirtation.

Adding to the misdirection is the story's unflinching use of humour, at times approaching downright silliness, provided mostly by Shelley Winters and Lou Jacobi. Not until Life Is Beautiful has humour been used to more effect in a Holocaust picture.

On the whole, however, The Diary of Anne Frank is undoubtedly tragic, despite its periodic moments of light-heartedness. The stakes are constantly as high as they could possibly be, several sequences piling on the tension. The scenes in which the hidden families remain utterly silent as an intruder pokes about downstairs are breath-holding indeed.

Millie Perkins (pictured) as the titular diarist is adorable, which assists in making the story more charming while simultaneously making it all the more tragic. Joseph Schildkraut (a previous Oscar winner for The Life of Emile Zola) brings the perfect blend of authority and compassion as the Frank patriarch. Serving as the comic relief for the majority of the picture are Shelley Winters, earning her first Oscar here for Best Supporting Actress, and Lou Jacobi, both very effective once you get past the oddity of a Dutch couple with New York accents. Ed Wynn was also nominated by the Academy for his curmudgeonly performance of Mr. Dussell.

1959 - Room at the Top

There is one major pitfall of the infrequency with which I've been updating this blog as of late. Too many newsworthy events occur in between posts for me to devote the appropriate amount of space to informing you about each of them. So, here's a brief summary of my news for the past couple of weeks:

Fresh off the New York City premiere of my short film Clicked, of which I wrote about last time, the film has now been selected for the Hoboken International Film Festival, screening in the first week of June. On top of that, I'll be beginning rehearsals later this week for a local production of The Taming of the Shrew, in which I will play Grumio.

If I manage to decrease the delay between each post in the coming weeks, I'll give more details for those events, but in the meantime, the next Best Picture nominee from the 1959 Oscars is...

Room at the Top
Director:
Jack Clayton
Screenplay:
Neil Paterson
(based on the novel by John Braine)
Starring:
Simone Signoret, Laurence Harvey, Heather Sears, Donald Wolfit, Donald Houston, Hermione Baddeley
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
2 wins, for Best Actress (Signoret) & Best Adapted Screenplay

Post World War II, Joe Lampton (Harvey) leaves his small war-torn Yorkshire town for a slightly less small town and the security of a job with the local government. There, he quickly falls for Susan (Sears), the daughter of high-powered executive Mr. Brown (Wolfit), who is consequently far out of Joe's reach. That doesn't stop Joe, of course, who shamelessly pursues both Susan and the upper class life. When Brown thwarts Joe's attempts at courting his daughter by sending her away, Joe instead begins an affair with Alice (Signoret), a French amateur actress who is herself unhappy with her lot in life, particularly her husband.

Assuredly, Room at the Top was considered racy at the time of its release, particularly in comparison with American fare of the late 1950s. Yet, to the modern viewer, there is a strange paradox that occurs while watching it. By today's standards, the film is only mildly risque, so it's amusing to think of the fuss that was probably made over its British sauciness. However, knowing that it was released in 1959, it is slightly jarring to hear the word 'bitch' bandied about so nonchalantly, alongside some rather suggestive dialogue. Perhaps this is only a phenomenon felt by those, like me, who weren't yet alive in the 1950s, and have based their erroneously wholesome image of that era on the mostly profanity-free American pictures of the time.

In any case, the film is a thoughtful exploration of class issues, possessing an interesting grittiness while retaining enough humility to allow for clever conversations in which the characters hint at naughty things without being explicit. Metaphor goes a long way. My favourite line in the movie must, without a doubt, be when Susan asks if Joe likes the way she makes love. Feeling in an unkind mood, Joe replies, "It reminds me of a good set of mixed tennis."

Without spoiling too much of the film's conclusion (although the poster does a pretty good job of that on its own), I will compliment the effectiveness with which the story's message is conveyed. Essentially, it's the ultimate case of being careful what you wish for. Joe's ambition is intense but when he finally achieves his stated goal, there is great dissatisfaction - for him and for the audience. The final moments are awkward, driving home the point, unsatisfying yet inevitable.

Laurence Harvey's (pictured) is not a particularly likable performance, albeit mostly due to his character. Joe initially presents as creepy and somewhat sleazy. His immediate fascination for Susan, expressed with stony glares, appears borderline obsessive and, even though this disturbing aura soon gives way to vulnerability, he never really shakes off that awkwardness. The Academy saw fit to nominate Harvey for Best Actor, however, so what do I know?

Simone Signoret, on the other hand, is positively engaging. Her complex portrayal of the complex Alice is natural and nuanced, earning her a well-deserved Best Actress Oscar. In a tiny but effective role, Hermione Baddeley delivers a memorably eccentric performance as Alice's protective friend, receiving the film's third acting nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

1959 - Ben-Hur

On Monday night, my short film Clicked, which I wrote, directed and starred in, had its New York City premiere as part of the NewFilmmakers Spring Festival Series. A proud moment, indeed. It was quite a thrill to see it up there on the big screen along with a real audience that wasn't just the cast and crew. And there is nothing quite so satisfying to hear a room full of people laugh at something I wrote on a page four years ago. Yes, it took that long to finish the damn thing.

Somehow, it took longer to complete my short film than it did to complete what is perhaps the most well-known epic film of all time, the film to which all other epic films are compared and the first 1959 Best Picture Oscar nominee for us to discuss...

Ben-Hur
Director:
William Wyler
Screenplay:
Karl Tunberg
(based on the novel "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" by Lew Wallace)
Starring:
Charlton Heston, Jack Hawkins, Haya Harareet, Stephen Boyd, Hugh Griffith, Martha Scott, Cathy O'Donnell, Sam Jaffe, Finlay Currie, Frank Thring
Academy Awards:
12 nominations
11 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor (Heston)

Setting the standard for the historical epic, Ben-Hur centres on a wealthy Jew named Judah (Heston), living in first century Jerusalem. When his childhood pal Messala (Boyd) becomes a Roman tribune, their mutual love and respect quickly degrades due to their political disagreement. After an incident in which a tile on Judah's house breaks loose and injures the Governor during a parade, Messala wreaks his vengeance by sentencing Judah to be a galley slave and his mother and sister (Scott & O'Donnell) to what appears to be the dirtiest, dankest prison in all of the Roman Empire.

The rest of the story follows Judah's ups and downs as he survives his years in the galleys, including a deadly battle with pirates, gets adopted by a Roman Consul, becomes a champion chariot racer and ultimately searches for his family, all the while unaware that he is living in the midst of the messiah.

The phrase that springs to mind as being the most appropriate to describe this film is amusingly paradoxical if taken literally. But metaphorically at least, Ben-Hur is indeed "bigger than Ben-Hur". In fact, it's a testament to the picture's magnificence that it gave rise to that phrase, one that is no longer exclusively used in reference to big-budget movie-making, but is now simply attached to any phenomenon of great extravagance.

And Ben-Hur is certainly extravagant. Impressively colossal sets filled with a massive number of extras, it's hard to view the film without recognising it as spectacular. The special effects, though, are occasionally less than remarkable, but only judged by today's standards. The epic sea battle, for instance, is presented using obvious model boats, such was the norm before the age of CGI.

The now legendary chariot race sequence suffers no such fate, however, using real horses and real chariots in a purpose-built arena, creating an exciting realism. Reading of the enormous time and effort that went in to preparing and shooting this scene (almost a year of work by a thousand crew members, and several thousand more extras), it's no wonder this is considered one of cinema's greatest achievements.

But enough about the spectacle. What about the story? The most compelling element of the picture (perhaps even above all the bells and whistles) is the fascinating personal relationship between Judah and Messala. It's such a clear and concise narrative, both touching and powerful. In fact, this relationship is what keeps the viewer's interest throughout the incredibly long movie. (Even excluding the overture and intermission music, which are included on the DVD I viewed, the running time is still around three and a half hours.)

Unfortunately, once the Judah/Messala story is resolved, there is still about an hour left of the movie. Perhaps it's merely because I didn't identify with the religious elements of the plot (which are by no means minor) that I wished, to some extent, the film had finished earlier. I understand, of course, that, for Christian viewers, the final act is the most important part, but despite the coincidental timing of my viewing (Easter Sunday), I found the miraculous nature of the ending to be a little unsatisfying, irrespective of my belief about miracles. It's always far more satisfying when characters affect their own change, rather than passively receiving redemption.

Charlton Heston (pictured, with Stephen Boyd) conveys the perfect mix of authority and vulnerability as the title character, earning himself the Best Actor Oscar. Alongside him, Hugh Griffith is affable as a sheik with a gambling problem, winning the Best Supporting Actor award for himself. Not nominated but delivering worthy performances are Stephen Boyd as Judah's frenemy, Jack Hawkins as his adoptive father and the delightful Frank Thring as Pontius Pilate.

Out of 12 nominations, Ben-Hur picked up 11 awards on Oscar night, a record that has stood for over 50 years, albeit equaled twice. The only nomination it failed to convert to a win was for its screenplay, a possible result of a screen credit controversy. It also has the ominous distinction of having two posthumous Oscar winners, Sam Zimbalist for producing the Best Picture, and William A. Horning, one of the Best Art Direction recipients.

P.S. It seems somehow fitting that one of my longest reviews ever (if not, the longest) is for this film...

Best Picture of 2006

Here we are again, only a mere three and a half months since the last verdict... Sarcasm aside, I will obviously need to pick up the pace a bit. At this rate, it will take another 20 years to finish this project. Not ideal. Nonetheless, we're all having fun, right?

The nominees for Best Picture of 2006 are:

• Babel
• The Departed
• Letters from Iwo Jima
• Little Miss Sunshine
• The Queen

The five contenders for 2006 are quite an impressive bunch. All five are engaging and thought-provoking, and any of them could appropriately be named my favourite. But a five-way tie is not what this verdict is about, so...

Little Miss Sunshine is quirky and lovable, and while its climax is deeply moving, it doesn't quite match the consistent intensity of the other films. Call it the comedy curse, but such is the tendency of those who give out accolades, even insignificant ones like mine. I will remove The Queen from the running also, for similar reasons. It's not a comedy, obviously, but its simplicity, while enhancing the film's enjoyment, is overshadowed by more complex stories from the other nominees.

Babel, The Departed and Letters from Iwo Jima are all deeply absorbing and include many heart-stopping moments. Choosing a favourite from this trio is no easy task. So, through no failing of the other two, I will declare The Departed as my pick of the 2006 Best Picture competition, another match the Academy's decision.

Best Picture of 2006
Academy's choice: The Departed	Matt's choice: The Departed

Your choice:

Make your own selection by voting in the poll above. Next up, we move to the 1950s for yet another diverse selection of cinematic classics.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1959 are:

• Anatomy of a Murder
• Ben-Hur
• The Diary of Anne Frank
• The Nun's Story
• Room at the Top

If you'd like to follow along with me, check out these titles at Amazon.

2006 - Little Miss Sunshine

As we finally wind down the current year of review, don't forget to cast your vote for the next one. Just use the poll sitting on the right hand side of your screen.

The final nominee to ponder from 2006's Best Picture competition is...

Little Miss Sunshine
Directors:
Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris
Screenplay:
Michael Arndt
Starring:
Greg Kinnear, Toni Collette, Steve Carell, Paul Dano, Abigail Breslin, Alan Arkin
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
2 wins, including Best Supporting Actor (Arkin) and Best Original Screenplay

The dysfunctional Hoover family is certainly unique. Dad Richard (Kinnear) is a less than successful motivational speaker with a disdain for losers. His long-suffering wife Sheryl (Collette) tries to keep the family together as best she can. When their naive daughter Olive (Breslin) is unexpectedly selected to participate in the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant in Redondo Beach, California, the family packs into their yellow and white Kombi van to make the journey. Reluctantly joining them are eldest son Dwayne (Dano) who has taken a vow of silence until he gets his pilot's license, and Sheryl's depressed brother Frank (Carell), a Proust scholar now on suicide watch. For the talent portion of the beauty contest, Olive is learning a dance routine taught to her by her Grandpa (Arkin), the crude senior member of the family who has taken up heroin in his old age because, well, why not?

Little Miss Sunshine is about as charming and quirky as independent cinema gets. The characters are subtly outrageous, finding themselves in funny and awkward situations scene after scene. From the relentlessly uncooperative vehicle to stealing a dead body from a hospital, some of the circumstances may stretch the verisimilitude beyond silly, but the sense of charm remains nonetheless. And it wouldn't be a quirky indie film without its fair share of poignancy. Michael Arndt's Oscar-winning screenplay satirically explores America's arguably unhealthy attitude towards winning and competition, and there is perhaps no greater example of this than the child beauty pageant.

There is awkwardness in Richard's obsession with losers (his 9-step motivational program is entitled Refuse to Lose), especially when he imparts his unsustainable goal of always winning to his young daughter. But the rest of the family is always waiting in the wings to encourage Olive again and remind her that giving it your best is more important and, besides, she's still a kid. While these poignant moments occasionally drift into sentimentality, albeit only slightly, directors Dayton and Faris are careful to keep it to a minimum. Perfection is found, however, in the climactic scene when Olive's family joins her up on stage for her dance routine. Both silly and heartwarming, it is one of those rarities that elicits simultaneous laughter and tears.

As is so often the case in this project (undoubtedly influenced by my choice of career), I find myself praising the cast, who all deliver brilliant performances. Paul Dano brings a touching edge to brooding teenage angst. 10-year-old Abigail Breslin is obliviously cheerful, earning herself a Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. And of course Alan Arkin's natural portrayal of a brutally honest man, too old to care about what people think of him any more, is a pure delight, winning him a well-deserved Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

2006 - Letters from Iwo Jima

And the Oscars have come and gone for another year. There were a couple of minor surprises - Meryl Streep winning again for the first time in almost 30 years, and the editing team of Angus Wall and Aussie Kirk Baxter scoring back-to-back wins in Film Editing. It was also nice to see Billy Crystal again. He's like a comfortable blanket. It just feels like the Oscars when he hosts. My predictions were not too embarrassing. I correctly pegged 16 winners, one better than last year, so I'll take it.

For a chuckle, take a look at the menu for my annual Oscars party.

The next nominee from the Best Picture competition of 2006 is...

Letters from Iwo Jima
Director:
Clint Eastwood
Screenplay:
Iris Yamashita and Paul Haggis
(based on the book Picture Letters from the Commander in Chief by Tadamichi Kuribayashi, edited by Tsuyuko Yoshida)
Starring:
Ken Watanabe, Kazunari Ninomiya, Tsuyoshi Ihara, Ryo Kase, Shido Nakamura, Hiroshi Watanabe, Takumi Bando, Yuki, Matsuzaki
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
1 win, for Best Sound Editing

The fierce Battle of Iwo Jima is told from a Japanese perspective, the story giving focus to two particular men, representing different extremes of military personnel. General Kuribayashi (Watanabe) is the commander, newly assigned to defend the island, and acutely aware of the near impossibility of that task against the might of the US military. His job is made all the more difficult as his subordinates begin acting ... well, insubordinately. At the other end of the spectrum is Private Saigo (Ninomiya), a reluctant conscript with a determination to survive in the face of a less than pleasant superior officer.

The story is based partly on letters written by the real General Kuribayashi and, as the title indicates, they are used as one of the main thematic devices. Characters often inexplicably find the time to sit down and write their inner most thoughts (audible to us through voice over) to their loved ones waiting at home. Oddly, that particular element of the film doesn't really resonate, seeming like an old-fashioned cliche in an otherwise excellent film.

Letters from Iwo Jima features some amazing battle scenes, and lots of them. The superb cinematography and Oscar-winning sound make for gripping viewing. Not to mention the insanely graphic visual effects that allow the camera to remain focused on a soldier as he intentionally blows himself up with a hand grenade. Combined with the emotional intensity of the situation, portrayed in riveting conversations about strategy, honour and the glory of the homeland, the result is a highly engaging entry into the war genre.

Speaking of glory, the film questions the skewed concept of honour that lingered in Japanese culture. Rather than working together to defeat the enemy, many soldiers selfishly concentrate on their own failures, preferring to die completing a mission than suffer the perceived shame of retreating, even if the retreat would enable them to assist in a potentially more useful way. I mean, it seems rather obvious that you're a lot less helpful to your army after you've committed suicide, yet for many of these men, suicide is the only honourable option under the circumstances. And suicide by their own grenades, no less. Perhaps they took the phrase, "no guts, no glory" a little too literally.

It's always somewhat difficult to understand nuance in a language that you don't speak, so there is undoubtedly something in this film that non-Japanese speakers like myself will miss. Nonetheless, Ken Watanabe's performance as the commander in chief is clearly excellent, even if you have to read his lines yourself. Not known outside his home country, Japanese boy band member Kazunari Ninomiya also delivers a superbly amiable performance as the green but smart Saigo. And for the trivia buffs, if I'm not mistaken, Letters from Iwo Jima is the only American film to win the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film.

2006 - The Departed

After a whirlwind two weeks in Sydney, I'm back in New York, gearing up for the Oscars this weekend. In preparation, I've selected my predictions for who will take home each award. Let me know how they match up with your picks.

But before this year's Oscars, we continue our look at the race from 5 years ago with another 2006 Best Picture nominee...

The Departed

Director:

Martin Scorsese

Screenplay:

William Monahan

(based on the film Infernal Affairs, written by Alan Mak and Felix Chong)

Starring:

Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen, Ray Winstone, Vera Farmiga, Anthony Anderson, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Corrigan

Academy Awards:

5 nominations

4 wins, including Best Picture and Best Director

The ultimate double cross story, The Departed follows two fresh police academy recruits who operate on separate sides of the law. Colin Sullivan (Damon) is immediately assigned to the unit investigating organised crime, but his loyalty lies with his childhood mentor Frank Costello (Nicholson), the main target of the crime unit. In contrast, Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) is given a long-term undercover assignment to infiltrate Costello's crew, while faithfully reporting his findings to Captain Queenan (Sheen) and Sergeant Dignam (Wahlberg). The two double agents spend a great deal of time attempting to discover the identity of the other, a task made all the more precarious since they are both carrying on a relationship with the same police psychiatrist, Madolyn Madden (Farmiga).

The Departed is about as tight as crime thrillers get. The tension is deliciously high throughout, a necessary consequence of such a brilliantly structured central conceit. Several scenes position the audience precariously on the edge of their seats with their eyes glued to the screen. A particularly novel instance involves a phone call in which both parties remain entirely silent. And just when you get comfortable with the suspense, traditional thriller conventions are then thrown out the window during the Shakespearean tragedy of an ending. No warning is given before characters meet their demises, each of which I still found unexpected even though I'd seen the film before, as paradoxical as that sounds.

Not only does this picture succeed as a thriller, it also explores some poignant psychological issues, the most obvious of which is the human tendency to lie. Trust issues abound among the main characters and keeping secrets is a way of life for most of them. To varying degrees, they all struggle with their deception, perhaps none more so than Madolyn, whose unfaithfulness is of a more intimate nature.

Director Martin Scorsese is in top form here, earning his first (and to date only) Best Director Oscar. He also assembled a dream cast, including the unique personas of Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg and Alec Baldwin, all three delivering humour laden performances. Vera Farmiga is superb in her role, providing some much needed estrogen to an otherwise male-dominated story. And while Wahlberg's was the only Oscar-nominated performance, Matt Damon (pictured) and Leonardo DiCaprio carry the film together extremely well, despite only rarely appearing on screen at the same time.

2006 - The Queen

I am writing to you now from cloudy Sydney, where Kat and I are visiting friends and family. Despite the lack of sunshine, it is still warm here and certainly more preferable than a New York winter.

My predictions for the Oscar nominations (in the last post) resulted in a fairly average hit rate overall. However, I managed to peg eight of the nine Best Picture nominees, and scored five for five in both the Best Director and Best Cinematography categories. On the other end of the spectrum, I had selected five tunes to be nominated for Best Song and still didn't manage to correctly guess either of the two actual nominees.

We now turn our attention to another nominee from the Best Picture race of 2006...

The Queen
Director:
Stephen Frears
Screenplay:
Peter Morgan
Starring:
Helen Mirren, Michael Sheen, James Cromwell, Helen McCrory, Alex Jennings, Roger Allam, Sylvia Syms, Tim McMullan, Mark Bazeley
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
1 win, for Best Actress (Mirren)

Tony Blair (Sheen) has just been elected Prime Minister, anxious about developing a working relationship with Queen Elizabeth II (Mirren). When the world reels from the shock of Princess Diana's death, all eyes are on the Royal Family and how they will respond. The Queen's decision to mourn privately and make no public statement is met with confusion and anger by some, leaving Blair with the responsibility of managing the British people's expectations.

The story of The Queen is relatively straightforward, the majority of the action taking place over the course of one week. Unfettered by subplots, the main focus of attention is the Royal Family's reaction to the tragic death of the woman who was once a part of that family. As such, there is a sort of self-referential irony that arises whenever the characters discuss the way in which the press makes headlines out of the Royal Family's lack of response, refusing to let up about it.

For most of the picture, there appears to be a potent anti-royalty sentiment. The Queen and her family are portrayed as out of touch and often inexcusably unfeeling. Contrast that with the charming characterisation of Tony Blair, who comes across as the voice of reason, rescuing the Royal Family from their own inability to relate to their subjects.

However, by the film's climax, that sentiment is well and truly challenged, which is perhaps the script's cleverest surprise. As Blair articulates in his defense of the Queen, she has served the British people with dignity for over 50 years in a position she never asked for and is now being demonised for not showing enough grief at the death of a woman who attempted to undermine everything she believes in. Seen from that perspective, we realise how quick we were to fall into the trap laid out for us, the same trap into which the British public fell, foisted onto us by the press.

With the possible exception of Alex Jennings as Prince Charles, the actors do not attempt impersonations of the real-life characters they portray, which creates an interesting atmosphere. It's hard to buy them as the Royal Family due to the casual nature of the performances, but in another sense, it is that casualness that makes the story more accessible. After all, the film's subjects are human, just like the rest of us, so it shouldn't be a surprise that they behave informally when in the privacy of their own homes. Helen Mirren's (pictured) Oscar-winning performance is top notch, finding a way to present a well-rounded portrayal of a somewhat stoic woman who keeps emotional displays to a minimum. She is joined on screen by a very effective Michael Sheen, who is charismatic and affable as the fledgling Prime Minister.

2006 - Babel

Well, that was an unexpectedly lengthy hiatus. Late December contained a fair bit of catering work for me, plus a new job that was initially intended to be part time, but somehow took over every waking moment of my life until this past weekend. The timing couldn't have been better, though, since tomorrow morning the Oscar nominations will be announced, allowing just enough time to get my predictions in order. If you're interested, here are my somewhat educated guesses as to which films will be cited by the Academy.

The Best Supporting Actor contest was by far the toughest to figure out. It could go a number of different ways. If I were braver, I would have backed Jim Broadbent to upset Jonah Hill by taking that final spot ... but I'm not brave. And keep in mind, the Best Picture category will have somewhere between five and ten nominees. I have listed ten predictions in order of nomination likelihood. I'll let the rest of the predictions speak for themselves for now, and over the next month, leading up to the ceremony, I'll discuss the race in more detail.

Meanwhile, to kick us off for the new year, we take a look at the first of 2006's Best Picture contenders...

Babel
Director:
Alejandro González Iñárritu
Screenplay:
Guillermo Arriaga
(based on an idea by Arriaga and  Iñárritu)
Starring:
Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, Gael García Bernal, Kôji Yakusho, Adriana Barraza, Rinko Kikuchi
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
1 win, for Best Original Score

With interconnected stories taking place across three continents in several languages, Babel is certainly diverse. In Morocco, a goat herder buys a rifle, giving it to his two young sons and instructing them to kill jackals. The boys test out the weapon's range by taking pot shots at a tour bus in the distance. Meanwhile, Richard (Pitt) and Susan (Blanchett) are vacationing in Morocco as a way to deal with the sudden death of their baby a few months ago. The trip is anything but healing, however, when Susan is unluckily shot in the shoulder while on the tour bus, the nearest hospital four hours away. In the USA, Amelia (Barraza), Richard's and Susan's nanny, is now left to take care of their two children despite needing to attend her own son's wedding in Mexico. After several unsuccessful attempts at finding someone to watch the kids, she has no option but to bring them across the border with her. In Japan, Chieko (Kikuchi), a troubled deaf-mute girl, is desperate for a sexual awakening. She is coping with the tragic suicide of her mother almost a year ago and a strained relationship with her father (Yakuhso), who, as it turns out, recently took a hunting trip to Morocco, gifting his rifle to his guide.

Babel is high-stakes drama at its most intense. From being stranded in remote Morocco without the necessary medical assistance to being stranded in the Southern Californian desert with two young children, the picture unfurls one life-changing (and life-threatening) scene after another. The urgency is conveyed expertly by the film makers, creating an edge-of-your-seat, involving cinematic experience.

In a way, all the major events that occur in the Morocco and US/Mexico stories might make Chieko's story seem frivolous. But far from being a tale of a young girl who just wants to get laid, hers is perhaps the most intimate exploration of the human condition since there is more time in her story thread to dig deep. She doesn't have the same urgent necessity that befalls the other characters in the film, who are often literally scrambling for their lives, yet her desperate need for male attention could be seen as her attempt, however misguided, to save herself from suffering the same fate as her mother.

The main theme of the film, as I see it, is the unfortunate lack of compassion we all have for other people's problems. The title seems to reference the Tower of Babel, the biblical story of how mankind was given myriad languages, thus preventing us from understanding each other. Yet in this story, language is ultimately not the barrier to understanding. While speaking different languages makes things more difficult, it's a problem easily overcome by translators (or notepads in the case of the deaf characters). The real obstacle to understanding is inconsideration. Each character is so caught up in his or her own issues that they are unable to see the problems of others, no matter how much more or less significant they may be. Despite their desperation to be understood, they rarely attempt to understand, often resulting in actions that merely blow situations unnecessarily out of proportion.

Shot on location in the four countries depicted, there is a genuineness to Babel, enhanced by the use of local actors, who are all simply amazing. Brad Pitt (pictured) delivers a superb performance in an intensely challenging role. But it was two supporting actresses who received Oscar nominations, Rinko Kikuchi and Adriana Barraza, both deservedly cited for their excellent work.