Category: Film Page 35 of 101

Judging Films as Oscar-Winners

On February 19, 2014

As Oscar-season hits a fever pitch, of course lots of people are also looking at the history of the Oscars and what’s won in previous years, and what maybe SHOULD have won in previous years. This is a fun pastime, one I’ve certainly indulged in it myself (as evidenced by this monster post over at Row Three), and there’s certainly nothing wrong with it.

But it does bring to mind something that kind of bothers me about how Oscar-winning films are often seen on down the road, especially those that are popularly deemed unworthy of their Oscars.

The most egregious case in point is How Green Was My Valley. Poor How Green Was My Valley is best known today for being the film that stole the 1941 Best Picture Oscar from Citizen Kane, as if the film mounted a sneak attack on Xanadu and snatched the statuette from Charles Foster Kane’s dying fingertips. Now, don’t get me wrong. If you ask me straight up which film is better, yes, Citizen Kane wins in a heartbeat. But that doesn’t mean that a lovely and evocative film like How Green Was My Valley deserves for its reputation to hang on the fact that some group of people voted to give it an award over seventy years ago.

Bringing it closer to home, I was pretty pissed when The Lives of Others won the Best Foreign Film Oscar over my darling Pan’s Labyrinth. I hadn’t seen The Lives of Others at the time of the awards, but it was nonetheless a TRAVESTY that my #1 film of the year had been passed over. Then a few months later I begrudgingly watched The Lives of Others, just so I could feel justified in my anger. And you know what? It’s a damn good movie. Maybe it doesn’t hit my personal buttons as much as Pan’s did, but it certainly was just as excellent a choice to win the award. And even if it wasn’t, doesn’t it deserve to be watched and judged on its own terms, rather than in competition with another film that it’s only related to because they happened to be pitted against each other for an award?

There are lots of other examples – I happen to think Shakespeare in Love deserved its Oscar over Saving Private Ryan but there are many who don’t, Chariots of Fire (a favorite of mine) is most often remembered as a film that didn’t deserve its Oscar, The Greatest Show on Earth is considered one of the worst films to win Best Picture, and on and on. Sure, The Greatest Show on Earth is a weird choice for Oscar, but ignore the baggage that you think belongs with the words “Best Picture Academy Award Winner” and it’s a pretty rip-roaring good time at the movies.

I’m not saying you can’t consider which films should’ve won Oscars instead of those that did, or that you can’t compare two films based on their both being Oscar nominees (or winners). But ultimately, that’s a fun parlor game, and in the final analysis every film deserves to be taken on its own terms. It doesn’t matter how great a film Citizen Kane is – it doesn’t mean that How Green Was My Valley isn’t also a great film. And it deserves better than the short shrift it often gets as “the film that beat Citizen Kane.” Oscars don’t matter that much. The films are what matter.

Blindspot / He Says, She Says: Full Metal Jacket

By Jandy

On February 14, 2014

In Film, He Says She Says

This Blind Spot entry will be done as a He Says, She Says post, because Full Metal Jacket was on the list of twelve films that Jonathan selected from his favorites that he wanted me to watch, which was the original genesis for this series. We never got around to it the year we made those lists for each other, but Iâ€™m glad we did now. These Blind Spots lists really are good for getting around to stuff we want to watch. :)

The Movie

Director: Stanley Kubrick
Screenplay: Stanley Kubrick, Michael Herr, Gustav Hasford
Cast: Matthew Modine, Vincent Dâ€™Onofrio, Adam Baldwin, R. Lee Ermey
Info: 1987 USA/UK, Warner Bros.
Chooser: Both (Jonâ€™s choice for me to watch, my choice to watch this week)
Date and Method Watched: 2 February 2014, Blu-ray

She Says…

Going into this film, Iâ€™d heard that it breaks cleanly into two parts, and that most people vastly prefer the first part. Coming out of it, the first statement is self-evident, but I ended up liking both parts quite a lot. The first part is set at Marine boot camp, with a hard-nosed drill sergeant putting a group of raw recruits through the wringer. The second part is set in Vietnam, following Joker, one of the more accomplished recruits, now a correspondent for a military newspaper.

I can see why people like the first half more – itâ€™s tightly focused and basically flawless. As a microcosm of the boot camp world and how it either makes or breaks you, itâ€™s self-contained, intense, and brilliant. On its own, it would work just as well as an extended short film. Vincent Dâ€™Onofrio (who I didnâ€™t even recognize) goes from adorable to terrifying, and I believed every second of it.

The second half is much more sprawling, but thatâ€™s what war is. Boot camp is controlled, tight, and regimented. Itâ€™s supposed to prepare you for war, but war, especially a war like Vietnam, is unpredictable. Thereâ€™s no way to prepare for the situations the men find themselves in once they get there, and thatâ€™s the point. The first half makes you think the drill sergeant is putting them through hell. But heâ€™s not. War is hell.

There are lots of other things I could say about the film – most of the music seems incongruous and yet is utterly fitting, which I love. There are a ton of great shots, from the tracking shot leading the sergeant around the barracks in the beginning to the silhouettes against a blood-red sky in Vietnam. I didnâ€™t expect to like this movie all that much, let alone enjoy the experience of watching it, but I did. A lot. I shouldâ€™ve known to trust Kubrick.

My Souvenir: There are so many I could take from this. The sergeantâ€™s opening monologue, Pyleâ€™s success (albeit short-lived) with the Jokerâ€™s encouragement, the look in Pyleâ€™s eyes in the bathroom, the intensity of the whole sniper showdown, etc. But I think Iâ€™ll take a thematic moment. After the sniper goes down, Jokerâ€™s face is half lit, half in shadow – his face showing that duality that he previously indicated somewhat facetiously with the â€œBorn to Killâ€ slogan and the peace sign button. The whole movie kind of comes together at that moment, purely through visuals and symbolic means. Thatâ€™s what filmmaking is all about.

He Says…

I saw Full Metal Jacket fairly early on, either at the end of high school or the beginning of college. A bunch of us knew this guy who would quote R. Lee Ermeyâ€™s lines repeatedly and I wanted to see what kind of film would match such aggressive dialog and what would – in a roundabout way – make said guy want to join the Marines.

I dug the film well enough on first viewing but it took awhile for it to become the favorite that it is now. At the time I didnâ€™t really understand the connection between the two parts and couldnâ€™t figure out why Kubrick didnâ€™t just jettison the meandering last half for the pristine filmmaking that was the first. With time and repeat viewing I came to realize that both parts were vital together and that Jokerâ€™s duality wouldnâ€™t have played nearly as strong without everything that came before. This most recent viewing really hammered that home and in turn made this even more of a favorite.

And the music! I completely forgot how mismatched the soundtrack was from the content of the film. In lesser hands this sort of thing wouldnâ€™t have had nearly the punch that it did. Case in point: the soldiers singing the theme song to the Mickey Mouse Club as they march triumphantly through wreckage and debris. Pretty much my new favorite scene from that film.

Stream It!: Sunset Boulevard (1950)

By Jandy

On February 13, 2014

In Film

[Showcasing the best and highlighting the newest additions to the various streaming services, including but not limited to Netflix Instant, HuluPlus, Amazon Prime, and Warner Archive Instant.]

New on Netflix: Sunset Boulevard

A bunch of new stuff hit Netflix at the beginning of the month, as usual, but the immediately standout was Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard. Wilder is known for his cynical yet often uproarious approach to his films, and here he turns that cynicism directly toward Hollywood, making one of the most scathing and ruthlessly entertaining movies about the movies you’ll ever see.

In true film noir fashion, our hero (?) tells the story of his inevitable undoing in flashback – but not only is he in existential defeat, as noir heroes usually are, he’s actually already dead, floating facedown in the pool of a decaying mansion on Sunset Blvd. His relationship with faded silent screen star Norma Desmond (played by silent screen star Gloria Swanson) takes up the bulk of the film, and Norma is a gloriously over-the-top character. This film is not going for realism in any way, but it’s about as perfect an encapsulation of Gothicism in a Hollywood setting as you could wish to see.

All the extra little touches Wilder brings are great, too, particularly in the casting. Erich von Stroheim plays Desmond’s butler, but he also used to be her director – Stroheim himself was a director (and actor) in the silent era, and directed Swanson in the unfinished Queen Kelly, footage from which is used within Sunset Boulevard. Stroheim’s relationship with Hollywood studios was notorious, baggage which certainly informs the critique Sunset Boulevard makes about the way the system chews people up and throws them away when it gets done with them. It’s kind of amazing Wilder even got this film made in Hollywood, to be honest – he doesn’t say a lot of good things about the system.

Double Feature: All About Eve

In looking for a good double feature to go with Sunset Boulevard, I first thought of other films about Hollywood with similarly dark tones – Mulholland Drive, The Bad and the Beautiful, etc. But none of them were streaming. I thought I was going to have to go with a typical director pairing and choose Double Indemnity (which would be a good double feature, mind you), but then I thought why not pair one of the greatest films about Hollywood with one of the greatest films about the stage – and they just happen to have been made the same year!

All About Eve follows eager fan Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) as she worms her way into the life of established stage star Margo Channing (Bette Davis), but her intentions may not be the best. This is one of Davis’ absolute best roles; Margo’s combination of star power and neuroticism make her one of the great characters of the screen, while Baxter amazingly holds her own as the scheming Eve. That they were both nominated for Best Actress Oscars is fitting, though they may have split the vote (the Oscar went to Judy Holliday for Born Yesterday, a good film, but it ain’t All About Eve).

The rest of the cast is a dream, too, with Thelma Ritter especially shining, as always, as Margo’s no-nonsense maid Birdie, the only one of Margo’s crowd who sees right through Eve. The other person with Eve’s number is drama critic Addison Steele (George Sanders), whose acerbic wit grants many of the film’s devastatingly good one-liners. Look for a young Marilyn Monroe as “a graduate of the Copacabana School of Dramatic Arts.”

2014: The Year of Positivity

By Jandy

On February 2, 2014

In Film

This was mostly my husband’s idea, but I figured I’d put up a little post about it so you know where I’m coming from this year. Current internet movie culture is all about extremes – everything is either the best or the worst thing ever made. I’m speaking in generalities, of course – there are many critics and bloggers writing on the internet who consistently bring a nuanced understanding of film (in general and in regards to specific films) to everything they write, but often the overall tenor of the conversation surrounding new releases, especially during summer blockbuster season, is one of two entrenched sides yelling either for or against a film with no middle ground possible.

I hate this.

Ultimately, both extremes are unhelpful to any sort of real criticism or understanding, but the negativity has been bothering me and Jonathan a lot lately. I mean, we’re in this because we love movies and we enjoy watching them and talking about them. So we’ve decided to try to make 2014 the Year of Positivity. I’m not entirely sure what this will look like or if it will turn out to be a beneficial thing for us or if it will end up making us dishonest and pandering about things that actually aren’t good and lose our discernment, but here’s kind of what I’m thinking at this point.

He Says, She Says: In a Lonely Place

By Jandy

On January 20, 2014

In Film, He Says She Says

This series started a couple of years ago when my husband Jonathan and I started taking turns choosing movies we care about a lot to share with each other. We abandoned the series as our lives got busy, but now we’re ready to give it another go, except now the subject isn’t quite as restrictive. We only have time for one or two movies a week now, so we’re still alternating choosing them, but not necessarily from those lists of personally meaningful films. We won’t write up everything we see, but whenever we see something that strikes us both, we will.

The Movie: In a Lonely Place

Director: Nicholas Ray
Screenplay: Andrew Solt
Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Gloria Grahame
Info: 1950 USA, produced by Santana Pictures, released by Columbia Pictures
Chooser: Jandy
Date and Method Watched: 12 January 2014, recorded off TCM (why don’t I own this?!)

She Says…

No sooner do I say we’re changing the parameters of this series when we watch a film that completely fits the old parameters. In a Lonely Place has been among my favorites for years – I still remember how leveled I felt the first time I saw it.

It’s a noir, yes, with a self-defeating main character (Dixon Steele, one of Bogart’s very best performances), but it’s also a melodrama, and a Hollywood Gothic, and a romance, and a tragedy. Sounds like a mess, and Steele is a mess, but the film is anything but. His struggling screenwriter hasn’t had a hit since before the war, but he’s still reluctant to go to the bother of adapting a sure-fire hit bestseller. He has a history of violence, which puts him under instant suspicion when a girl he was the last to see turns up murdered. He’s capable of great kindness, but rages at the merest slight. His future looks bright with the support of new girlfriend Laurel (a great role for Gloria Grahame), but even his expressions of love are colored by possessiveness.

Everything about the film is more complex than you expect – every time you think it’s going one way, it goes somewhere different, usually somewhere far darker even than other noirs of the time period. There’s no pat resolution for Dixon or Laurel, and by the end, you desperately want there to be. It packs one of the biggest emotional punches to the gut of any film I’ve ever seen.

I could go on listing all my favorite things or scenes in the film but then we’d be here all day. Seriously. I’ll make an itemized list available upon request.

He Says…

Thereâ€™s the Humphrey Bogart you know, and then thereâ€™s the Humphrey Bogart in this. His Dixon Steele is harsh, unrelenting, and absolutely amazing. I went into this film thinking that I would get something akin to his turn in Casablanca, but was pleasantly surprised when he went in a much more complex direction. In one moment he gives his washed out actor-friend the attention he craves, and in the next he nearly beats a stranger to death. We never really get to wrap our head around this tragic character, which is what makes him so damn interesting.

I loved all the story touches as well. Canâ€™t say Iâ€™ve seen a noir before that featured a screenwriter as the lead. It was interesting to see him wrestle (however briefly) with adapting a trashy bestseller into a film, something I hope to one day cross off my screenwriting bucket list. The ending was a huge bummer too, which means I dug the hell out of it. My wife sure knows me well, and I am grateful she picked this one out.

I seriously need to get cracking on the rest of Bogartâ€™s filmography.