The Visionaries: Director, 1974

We've been discussing the acting and the technicals and the script, but we all know that it's the director who guides the final product. I mean, God (and the studio) willing.

John Cassavetes for A Woman Under the Influence

**

So, this was my first Cassavetes flick, and I have to say I'm pretty torn. On the one hand, Cassavetes intends for this to be an excruciating experience, since the film centers around a housewife who's losing it...or already lost it. So, yes, kudos to him for creating both a believable suburban environment that's suffocating and uncomfortable. On the other hand, I began to find it irritating that we were spending ten minutes watching a spaghetti dinner. "And what's your name? And what's your name? And what's your name?" And my friend assures me that this is purposeful tension to both irritate Peter Falk's character and get under the audience's skin. Which is fine, but (a) I don't care for it personally and (b) look, how many ten minute scenes do you really need to establish that this lady needs help no one is willing to give? Maybe Cassavetes got the job done -- it's a very good movie, certainly, and one that I think should be seen by serious film enthusiasts -- but I don't have to fall in love with everything.

Francis Ford Coppola for The Godfather: Part II

****

It's great. He's great. He manages to keep the film afloat despite the superfluousness of the Vito subplot. Aesthetically, he's nailed that Shakespearean element that really makes The Godfather an immortal classic. Of course, I wish that the performances were more varied, as everyone seems to be playing how EPICALLY TRAGIC the film is. But sequences like the Murder of Don Fanucci and the Cuban Revolution are effective and incredible enough to make up for most shortcomings.

Bob Fosse for Lenny

*****

I find myself in that weird paradox where I am so in love with something that I cannot explain just why it earned that love. It's one of those "if you see it, you understand it" things, although I think if you've ever seen a Fosse film, you understand. The stand-up performances hint at Fosse's familiarity with the concert film, but even as he makes these sequences natural, he never loses sight of that more artistic form he's adopted for this. The film is a brilliant precursor to All That Jazz, and almost its equal. Maybe it is its equal. Anyway, Fosse's a god. 

Roman Polanski for Chinatown

****

It's interesting that everything is lit like a noir yet filmed with the same unlocked, handheld style of the independent films; more "realistic", if you will. The stylistic contradictions serve Polanski well, setting us up subconsciously for that awful dose of reality that the film continues to throw at us. And yet he never loses a sense of fun, and say what you will, movies need to be fun. Props for directing himself in a cameo.

Francois Truffaut for Day for Night

***

Truffaut maintains a light touch. He always has such a great grasp on comedy and drama. Look no further than Valentina Cortese's big scene, which has mixtures of both. Props for directing himself in a supporting role.

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Oscar awarded Coppola, which I fully support. But I see things slightly differently and award the Oscar to...

BOB FOSSE

for

LENNY

seriously, he's so great

Greatness at the Edges: Supporting Actress, 1974

Remember when StinkyLulu had a 1974 smackdown on his blog? I consider this my way-late weigh-in, just like it's my way-late Academy vote. I need a watch. And a calendar.

Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express

**

When I first saw this movie as a young lad, I remember a "huh?" moment when hearing Bergman won the Oscar. Bergman is very good in this, I think, and it's absolutely shocking to see Ilsa Lund play this frumpy missionary. I believe every word she speaks, I believe her naively referring to the children of her mission as "black babies born more backwards than I" just as I believe her yelling, "Thou shalt not kill!" after the discovery of the body. It's a role that strikes one as merely stereotypical in the novel, but Bergman manages to convey some humanity in it.

But while I don't think this performance is deserving of the bile it's received in recent years, I certainly don't think it's Oscar-worthy. It's a solid performance of a simply-written character, but with such a large ensemble, there were at least three other superior supporting actresses to choose from. I really do love this movie, though I admit to being an Agatha Christie fanatic!

Valentina Cortese in Day for Night

***

Cortese is so electric and hilarious at film's beginning, it's a shame we rarely get to see her. I really only remember three key scenes with Cortese's character: the dressing-room, the Big Scene that she keeps flubbing, and the farewell dinner. My sister once said that she hates people who declare themselves divas, because real divas don't need to declare it, and they're rarely aware of it. Certainly this describes Severine, who boozes her way through the set of May I Present Pamela. Of course, she has her reasons, but these are hastily explained and dispensed with, never to be heard of again. Yet now the subtext is there, deepening our perception of the character.

Is the performance that deep? Not in the same way, but sure. Cortese seems to be playing with her own motivations, ones that work just as effectively and heartbreakingly as the one scriptgirl Joelle offers. Severine is confused, now jolly, now deeply unhappy, now joking, now motherly. Really, I miss Severine when she's gone, and her last scene made me wish for more. And that...that's an accomplishment.

Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles

*****

Madeline Kahn is probably one of the funniest women to ever appear on screen. Her performances are as legendary as they are hilarious: Mrs. White, Elizabeth, the "brave, unbalanced woman" in What's Up Doc?, and of course, the Dietrich-parody that is Lili von Shtupp. She gets an entire sequence to herself, one in which she is tasked by the evil Hedley Lamar (Harvey Korman) to seduce and destroy the town of Johnson's black sheriff, Black Bart. She croons, she dances, she seduces, she falls for him. After all, what they say about men like Bart is twue.

Kahn's great ability as a comedienne, though, was not just to sell the jokes themselves, but to sell the character with sincerity. Seeing Lili go from exhausted singer-spy to a smitten romantic is not only amusing, but pretty adorable. Only Kahn could sell a song as corny/funny/bawdy as "I'm Tired" (They're alvays coming and going/And going and coming/And alvays too soon). Only Kahn could follow up an evening of carnality with the line, "Vat a nice guy." There's a reason why, more than ten years after her death, she's still one of the most admired and quoted character actresses around. It's a shame she quickly disappears after ten straight minutes of her hot comic genius, but I guarantee you'll be thinking about her at film's end. She;s easily the best part of one of the best comedies ever made.

Diane Ladd in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore

****

Alice... takes an awful long time to get going. Maybe this is because I knew she had to get there, but the first 40 minutes really feel like one long set-up to getting Ellen Burstyn to that diner to be a waitress.

You know who makes that 40-minute wait worthwhile? Diane Ladd's Flo, the greatest of all greasy-spoon waitresses. She's loud, she's crude, and you know that hair put a hole in the ozone. Of course, like everyone brassy individual the movies throw at us, Flo has some simple wisdom to impart, shrugged off with a cigarette in the bathroom as her friends break down. Really, anyone who doesn't want to be Flo's best friend is probably a real drag.

Talia Shire in The Godfather: Part II

*

Shire has two big scenes: playing boozy, negligent mother who wants to run off with Tory Donahue; begging Michael to forgive Fredo after that famous kiss of death. Shire plays both pretty lousily, in my opinion. Clearly, it was the second scene that got her the nomination, and it's a damn well-written piece. Unfortunately, Shire's the actress in this case, and for some reason she's just no good in this movie. Like, at all. From her first scene to her last, I grit my teeth and begged for the end. I don't even think Shire's a bad actress for the most part, but this does not work for me.

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I can't believe Oscar chose Bergman, and that Bergman chose Cortese, because for me, it's so obvious that the Oscar should have gone to...

MADELINE KAHN

in

BLAZING SADDLES

she's pooped

All Their Own: Original Screenplay, 1974

Of course, as soon as I have a new thing planned, work calls. The Summer Movie Season is upon us! Here's what I wanted to post Thursday:

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore by Robert Getchell 

***

I'll be honest, I don't know how much of what I love is the screenplay. For instance, I love that Alice is actually kind of unlikable in a lot of scenes, yet so human that we can't help but identify with and root for her. But is that the writing, an acting choice or Scorsese's direction? Though I suppose the latter two would have to have been working off of something. Then again, Getchell does deliver that inexplicable Hollywood ending with the Big Romantic Speech...but then again, still, he also gave us the wonderful Flo. It's so hard to tell what was the writer and what was the director with these auteurs.

Chinatown by Robert Towne

*****

I really do think this is one of those masterpiece screenplays. Every moment of every scene provides a clue to the mystery, whether you realize it or not. There are surprisingly hilarious moments, making that finale all the more shocking, and effective. And then of course there's the gradual progression of our understanding of what Chinatown is.

What's bizarre, though, is that while the ending really is one of the greatest strengths of the film, credit for that must go to director Polanski, who convinced a reluctant Towne to change it from the less downbeat climax of the script. It's strange, for it goes so well with what Towne's established, with the characters and tone and setup and everything. Surely, though, it is a great writer who can see what's best for the story, even if it's different from his original plan. Towne himself eventually admitted it was better for the film. How should I rate this, then? On the final result, or the writer's intentions?

Final result, man. Because it's fucking Chinatown.

The Conversation by Francis Ford Coppola

****

A character study-mystery-thriller with nary a moment wasted. Every line of dialogue either presents a new aspect of Gene Hackman's character or a new element of paranoia. Think about this: we're watching a film about a private individual who says very little, whom few people know intimately, yet we're there with him every step of the way...and there's no voice-over. Like Chinatown, every development is earned by what's preceded it, never a dishonest step.

Day for Night by Jean-Louis Richard, Suzanne Schiffman and Francois Truffaut

***

An ensemble film about filmmaking? Bitches, you know I'm gonna love this. The script allows every member of the ensemble to have at least one great moment in the spotlight: the script girl, the producer, the wife of one of the executives, the lead actress's husband, everyone! If there is an element that gives me pause, it's the way certain things are brought up and then dropped, like the real source of star Severine's muddling of her lines. And yet...is this not a perfect portrait of a film set? Brief catches of gossip, of lovemaking, of rivalries, springing up and disappearing in the limited amount of time they have. Severine herself puts it best: "What a funny life we lead. We meet, we work together, we love each other, and then -- THPPT! As soon as we grasp something, it's gone! See?"

Of course, some people do believe that dialogue = screenplay, and Day for Night certainly has some classic lines. Besides Severine's little speech, my two favorite pieces of dialogue would have to be: "People used to stare at fires. Now they watch TV. We need to see moving images, especially after dinner," and "I'd drop a guy for a film. I'd never drop a film for a guy!" When you can tell everything about a character just from the words they say, the writer's done their job.

Harry & Tonto by Paul Mazursky and Josh Greenfeld

**

Harry & Tonto, for me, misses so many opportunities to be more than an adorable old man taking a road trip. Maybe I missed something, but is there an arc of any kind? Harry doesn't want to leave his apartment, he's thrown out, he road trips he meets people. Do these people change his life in any significant way? Or anything at all? No, he just kind of meets them and then continues on his way. What's the point of the prostitute? The hitchhikers? The old flame? The son who pretends to have it all but doesn't? The nephew who refuses to speak? Ellen Burstyn? There are interesting set-ups to each of these segments, and it feels like they're about to go somewhere, but they don't.

Perhaps the most irritating aspect, for me, is a major spoiler, so feel free to skip this paragraph.

But isn't Tonto the most important thing for him now? He won't get on a plane because of Tonto, he won't stay on a Greyhound because of Tonto, he panics while in jail because of Tonto. Yet Tonto's death is off-screen, and delivered to us by way of voice-over...and I feel no emotional connection. Mayve I shouldn't blame this on the screenplay. Maybe this is more on the directing and editing side of things, and there was a beautiful and poignant moment set up within the script. All I know is, one of the title characters died and it hardly mattered. It's as though the cat existed merely to get him off the bus and away from planes. No thank you.

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Really, who am I to argue with Oscar on this one? I, too, believe the Oscar should go to...

ROBERT TOWNE

for

CHINATOWN