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Showing posts with label Dog Day Afternoon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dog Day Afternoon. Show all posts
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Top Ten Past, Blog Future
The Hollmann Awards are finally on their way, along with Casting Coup Month. Regular readers know what to expect here, but for the Virgins (pronounce it with a Spanish accent -- it's fun!) among you, here's the skinny:
Monday, September 17, 2012
The 1975 Hollmann Awards: The Second, Final Half
And one week later, here's the rest of my personal awards for the films of 1975! Last week saw Nashville leading with three wins, followed closely by Monty Python and the Holy Grail and its two victories. Honors also went to Amarcord, Barry Lyndon, Dark Star and Dog Day Afternoon.
Monday, September 10, 2012
The 1975 Hollmann Awards: The First Half
Finally, the first part of my Hollmann Awards for 1975! Nine of the eighteen categories are represented here, along with five previous nominees and one previous winner! I tell you, though, I needed those extra days just to finally whittle everything down to these choices. 1975 may not have been the strongest year, but it still hurt to leave some things out (Sorry, ensemble of Switchblade Sisters! Better luck next time, screenplay for Teenage Hitchhikers!). Luckily, though, I managed to find a slate of nominees and winners I really like. Hopefully, you'll feel the same; hopefully, too, you'll disagree and we can have a heated discussion in the comments.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The Legends Giveth: Director, 1975
The nominees for Best Director are:
All the directors here do wonders with their ensemble, but Altman especially is spectacular in his handling of the multi-storied, plotless sprawl of Nashville. I'm not just talking about his handling of the 24 stars, but of the performances he captures from Merle Kilgore as a local bartender, the Smoky Mountain Laurels, the diner talking to Keenan Wynn at the airport cafe, the girls working on the political campaign. He never overplays the satire, nor does he alienate with the darkly comic tone. This is his masterpiece.
If Spielberg must be left out of the party, at least his replacement is a worthy one. Fellini may be at his strongest here, leaving his camera sometimes stationary (the family dinner), sometimes at a distance (from the uncle up a tree), sometimes moving about, discovering people along with his ensemble (various times). He's pitched the actors at that wonderful place between reality and hyperbole, so that even in the most exaggerated of memories we still identify with them. His handling of different tones within a single sequence -- the Fascist rally being the best example -- is seamless. It looks like a memory, and that's important.
Forman's light touch allows his scenes to feel unconfined: a major plus considering the setting. Indeed, surely we must credit him with the excellent chemistry shared by the patients of the 4th floor ward, and for integrating star Nicholson so comfortably with the rest of the group. He doesn't treat the triumphs of the fishing trip or the Christmas party with too much fanfare, maintaining the sense of transience that is McMurphy's presence. No, his moments of triumph are unusual: not watching the World Series is more inspiring than getting Ratched's approval, and the final scene...well, just listen to that celebratory whoop given by Lloyd.
Kubrick's unparalleled in his execution of tone; here, his choice of music, framing, lighting and actors all serve his darkly comic, unsettling masterpiece of social climbing and class snobbery. Everything is as meticulously arranged as the class structure -- or at the very least the drawing-room. Casting dashing blank slate Ryan O'Neal as dim, handsome Barry and the tragically beautiful Marisa Berenson as the melancholy Lady Lyndon are great coups. And while Kubrick is often accused of being a cold director, here his clinical eye is the perfect one with which to witness the bullshit.
Like Altman, Lumet's style is fast and loose, allowing for a spontaneous energy to flow throughout the proceedings -- even though everything is obviously lit and covered quite methodically. It's this energy that gets that electric current running through his ensemble of actors, ratcheting up the tension in each successive scene until that breathtaking climax. Too, more than any other director I've watched, Lumet's New York City is vibrant and real. Surely it's his New York we see in our heads when we think of the city, and here it is, captured in one of its infamous, broiling summers.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Cuckoo's Nest was sweeping the race, so Forman got his first Oscar. But you may have noticed that I've got a sweeper of my own. And so, it is with great pleasure that I award my Oscar vote to:
Robert Altman for Nashville
*****
All the directors here do wonders with their ensemble, but Altman especially is spectacular in his handling of the multi-storied, plotless sprawl of Nashville. I'm not just talking about his handling of the 24 stars, but of the performances he captures from Merle Kilgore as a local bartender, the Smoky Mountain Laurels, the diner talking to Keenan Wynn at the airport cafe, the girls working on the political campaign. He never overplays the satire, nor does he alienate with the darkly comic tone. This is his masterpiece.
Federico Fellini for Amarcord
****
If Spielberg must be left out of the party, at least his replacement is a worthy one. Fellini may be at his strongest here, leaving his camera sometimes stationary (the family dinner), sometimes at a distance (from the uncle up a tree), sometimes moving about, discovering people along with his ensemble (various times). He's pitched the actors at that wonderful place between reality and hyperbole, so that even in the most exaggerated of memories we still identify with them. His handling of different tones within a single sequence -- the Fascist rally being the best example -- is seamless. It looks like a memory, and that's important.
Milos Forman for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
***
Forman's light touch allows his scenes to feel unconfined: a major plus considering the setting. Indeed, surely we must credit him with the excellent chemistry shared by the patients of the 4th floor ward, and for integrating star Nicholson so comfortably with the rest of the group. He doesn't treat the triumphs of the fishing trip or the Christmas party with too much fanfare, maintaining the sense of transience that is McMurphy's presence. No, his moments of triumph are unusual: not watching the World Series is more inspiring than getting Ratched's approval, and the final scene...well, just listen to that celebratory whoop given by Lloyd.
Stanley Kubrick for Barry Lyndon
*****
Kubrick's unparalleled in his execution of tone; here, his choice of music, framing, lighting and actors all serve his darkly comic, unsettling masterpiece of social climbing and class snobbery. Everything is as meticulously arranged as the class structure -- or at the very least the drawing-room. Casting dashing blank slate Ryan O'Neal as dim, handsome Barry and the tragically beautiful Marisa Berenson as the melancholy Lady Lyndon are great coups. And while Kubrick is often accused of being a cold director, here his clinical eye is the perfect one with which to witness the bullshit.
Sidney Lumet for Dog Day Afternoon
****
Like Altman, Lumet's style is fast and loose, allowing for a spontaneous energy to flow throughout the proceedings -- even though everything is obviously lit and covered quite methodically. It's this energy that gets that electric current running through his ensemble of actors, ratcheting up the tension in each successive scene until that breathtaking climax. Too, more than any other director I've watched, Lumet's New York City is vibrant and real. Surely it's his New York we see in our heads when we think of the city, and here it is, captured in one of its infamous, broiling summers.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Cuckoo's Nest was sweeping the race, so Forman got his first Oscar. But you may have noticed that I've got a sweeper of my own. And so, it is with great pleasure that I award my Oscar vote to:
ROBERT ALTMAN
for
NASHVILLE
let me the one who understands you, Bob
And with Best Director gone, there's only one more category left! Check back tomorrow for Best Actress in a leading role, and next week for the start of my Retro Hollmann Awards, awarding the best my favorites of 1975.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Past, Present and Poon: Original Screenplay, 1975
It's been a while since I've actually written an introduction, but I felt it necessary to shed some light on my ratings here.
Often, I feel, we champion individual screenplays based on our affection for the finished film, not for what the original author wrote. Because of this, we often miss out on very good screenplays that are poorly executed by a pedestrian director, or overpraise shallow work that a particularly skilled filmmaker polished into something enjoyable. It is understandable -- not everyone has access to screenplays (I don't), and so we can only go on what we see. If the movie's great, the screenplay must be great, and vice versa.
Well, I've done my best to concentrate on the individual screenplays as opposed to the finished product. It's difficult, and I don't claim to have been fully successful, but sometimes one can feel when a strong piece of work was mishandled, or the reverse. Take, for instance, Shampoo, a film that I will no doubt revisit for the performances, cinematography and direction, but also a film that, I feel, works in spite of its screenplay. More on that later.
Hopefully, I've done all right, and made clear why I rated these films the way I did. Hopefully, too, you'll feel free to argue with me. Anyway, the nominees for Best Original Screenplay:
With a colorful array of characters, Fellini's look at one year in a small town during Mussolini's reign is as uniquely Italian as it is universal. With the title translating to "I Remember", we are offered episodic glimpses into life at school (where the teachers are dull and pranks are pulled), home (quarreling yet well-meaning parents), and the neighborhood, along with those significant events that mark a lifetime. I'm talking holiday traditions, weddings, funerals, political rallies...and first brushes with sex. Warm, funny, with a teary-eyed mix of sadness and nostalgia, it's like hearing familiar and beloved stories from an old friend.
The phrase "churning out" has a negative connotation, usually, but man -- the 70s really churned out some perfect original screenplays, didn't they? Every line, every action offers something new, be it plot twist or character detail. Pierson provides those nuances that give Lumet his ensemble, the actors those incredible scenes, and cinema a masterpiece. Still, it's based on article, and I've always found it especially odd that screenplays based on newspaper articles are not considered adaptations, especially when it's credited like this.
Well-meaning film about a boy in a Canadian Jewish ghetto who adores his grandfather, a rag-and-bone man. The relationship with the grandfather is sweet, but the parents are sketchily written, though it could have worked in the hands of some stronger actors. It's sweet enough, and I shan't punish the screenplay for the shortcomings of the cast and director.
It's okay that I think this is slightly overrated, right? Has some great lines, and does a great job with some of its supporting players, but I find its protagonist undercooked - yeah, yeah, he's kind of dim and it's one of those characters who is who he is, but who he is, is a half-baked mechanism to satirize sex, gender relations, politics (I guess?), and changing times. I don't find it nearly as clever as it thinks it is, nor do I feel that most of the pivotal plot points come from logical transition so much as a necessity to keep the story going.
---------------------------------------------------
Dog Day Afternoon won the Oscar, and might have won my vote if not for the category confusion. Sorry, but if a sequel's an adaptation, then so is a film based on a newspaper article. So, my vote goes across the Atlantic:
Often, I feel, we champion individual screenplays based on our affection for the finished film, not for what the original author wrote. Because of this, we often miss out on very good screenplays that are poorly executed by a pedestrian director, or overpraise shallow work that a particularly skilled filmmaker polished into something enjoyable. It is understandable -- not everyone has access to screenplays (I don't), and so we can only go on what we see. If the movie's great, the screenplay must be great, and vice versa.
Well, I've done my best to concentrate on the individual screenplays as opposed to the finished product. It's difficult, and I don't claim to have been fully successful, but sometimes one can feel when a strong piece of work was mishandled, or the reverse. Take, for instance, Shampoo, a film that I will no doubt revisit for the performances, cinematography and direction, but also a film that, I feel, works in spite of its screenplay. More on that later.
Hopefully, I've done all right, and made clear why I rated these films the way I did. Hopefully, too, you'll feel free to argue with me. Anyway, the nominees for Best Original Screenplay:
Federico Fellini & Tonino Guerra for Amarcord
*****
With a colorful array of characters, Fellini's look at one year in a small town during Mussolini's reign is as uniquely Italian as it is universal. With the title translating to "I Remember", we are offered episodic glimpses into life at school (where the teachers are dull and pranks are pulled), home (quarreling yet well-meaning parents), and the neighborhood, along with those significant events that mark a lifetime. I'm talking holiday traditions, weddings, funerals, political rallies...and first brushes with sex. Warm, funny, with a teary-eyed mix of sadness and nostalgia, it's like hearing familiar and beloved stories from an old friend.
Claude Lelouch and Pierre Uytterhoeven for And Now My Love
ABSTAIN
Frank Pierson, from an article by P.F. Kluge and Thomas Moore, for Dog Day Afternoon
****
The phrase "churning out" has a negative connotation, usually, but man -- the 70s really churned out some perfect original screenplays, didn't they? Every line, every action offers something new, be it plot twist or character detail. Pierson provides those nuances that give Lumet his ensemble, the actors those incredible scenes, and cinema a masterpiece. Still, it's based on article, and I've always found it especially odd that screenplays based on newspaper articles are not considered adaptations, especially when it's credited like this.
Ted Allan for Lies My Father Told Me
***
Well-meaning film about a boy in a Canadian Jewish ghetto who adores his grandfather, a rag-and-bone man. The relationship with the grandfather is sweet, but the parents are sketchily written, though it could have worked in the hands of some stronger actors. It's sweet enough, and I shan't punish the screenplay for the shortcomings of the cast and director.
Warren Beatty & Robert Towne for Shampoo
**
It's okay that I think this is slightly overrated, right? Has some great lines, and does a great job with some of its supporting players, but I find its protagonist undercooked - yeah, yeah, he's kind of dim and it's one of those characters who is who he is, but who he is, is a half-baked mechanism to satirize sex, gender relations, politics (I guess?), and changing times. I don't find it nearly as clever as it thinks it is, nor do I feel that most of the pivotal plot points come from logical transition so much as a necessity to keep the story going.
---------------------------------------------------
Dog Day Afternoon won the Oscar, and might have won my vote if not for the category confusion. Sorry, but if a sequel's an adaptation, then so is a film based on a newspaper article. So, my vote goes across the Atlantic:
FELLINI & GUERRA
for
AMARCORD
because, while i haven't gone, i've totally been there
Friday, August 17, 2012
Men of Dishonor: Actor, 1975
The nominees for Best Actor are:
Matthau's an odd duck when it comes to comedy. He can go completely deadpan and subtle, or he can go hammy and demand a laugh. Much of The Sunshine Boys is spent in the latter, which is appropriate for the hammy, old-fashioned Willie Clark, a vaudevillian who refuses to retire. It's annoying as hell, of course, but it is appropriate. It's an amusing performance that kills when paired with George Burns, but some of his interactions with the other cast members -- his nephew, his nurse -- come off as more forced, more "acted", if you will.
What, like I need to tell you what a great performance this is? I love how Nicholson never tries to make McMurphy smarter, kinder or more selfless than he really is; instead, the small ways in which he saves and inspires the people around him come almost by chance through his arrogance and self-aggrandizement. He's an uneducated, vulgar, manipulative man, but he believes in the patients' ability to help themselves and even delays his own escape to allow the happiness of one of them. From his narrating an imaginary World Series to wiping snot from his nose during a basketball game, Nicholson's deft handling of big moments and little details illustrate an uncomplicated yet somewhat complex human being.
I love everything about this performance. Pacino gives Sonny a bizarre energy, like an easily-distracted child making his own rules to a game everyone else has played. His various forms of self-delusion and self-pity are fascinating to watch, particularly in his interactions with his "wife". The slow slide from energized media hero to exhausted Man is subtly charted, so that Pacino's eventual hopeless acceptance at the end is organic, disquieting, and inevitable.
The film is a bizarre, pretentious, dull mess, based upon the stage play by great actor Robert Shaw: a Jewish sculptor living in New York is arrested and tried as, and confesses to being, a notorious concentration camp official. But is he? Half the film leads up to the arrest, exploring this odd millionaire with the uncomfortable, gallows humor; the second half is the trial. Schell's performance is mesmerizing at times, but it also plateaus a bit, as he shouts with a mad expression throughout much of the runtime. He's getting a kick out of playing this mysterious and eccentric character, but it's exhausting.
The one-man show starring Whitmore as President Truman is quite literally a taped stage performance, often stopping to accommodate laughter and applause. One could forgive this were it a more challenging role, yet Whitmore is given little more to do than channel GREAT and AMAZING and OH IF ONLY OL' HARRY WAS STILL AROUND, with some sideswipes at then-recently disgraced Nixon. Honestly, I kind of wanted to yell at him every time he stopped himself to go, "Now, wait, now, hold on, just a minute, there, HOLD ON!" It happens constantly, and comes off more as poor improv than scripted mannerism.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
In one of the most deserving Oscars ever received, Nicholson won the Academy Award. And yet....I have to give credit to the colorful, engaging, fearless performance from another great actor. My Oscar vote goes to:
Walter Matthau in The Sunshine Boys
***
Matthau's an odd duck when it comes to comedy. He can go completely deadpan and subtle, or he can go hammy and demand a laugh. Much of The Sunshine Boys is spent in the latter, which is appropriate for the hammy, old-fashioned Willie Clark, a vaudevillian who refuses to retire. It's annoying as hell, of course, but it is appropriate. It's an amusing performance that kills when paired with George Burns, but some of his interactions with the other cast members -- his nephew, his nurse -- come off as more forced, more "acted", if you will.
Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
*****
What, like I need to tell you what a great performance this is? I love how Nicholson never tries to make McMurphy smarter, kinder or more selfless than he really is; instead, the small ways in which he saves and inspires the people around him come almost by chance through his arrogance and self-aggrandizement. He's an uneducated, vulgar, manipulative man, but he believes in the patients' ability to help themselves and even delays his own escape to allow the happiness of one of them. From his narrating an imaginary World Series to wiping snot from his nose during a basketball game, Nicholson's deft handling of big moments and little details illustrate an uncomplicated yet somewhat complex human being.
Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon
*****
I love everything about this performance. Pacino gives Sonny a bizarre energy, like an easily-distracted child making his own rules to a game everyone else has played. His various forms of self-delusion and self-pity are fascinating to watch, particularly in his interactions with his "wife". The slow slide from energized media hero to exhausted Man is subtly charted, so that Pacino's eventual hopeless acceptance at the end is organic, disquieting, and inevitable.
Maximilian Schell in The Man in the Glass Booth
**
The film is a bizarre, pretentious, dull mess, based upon the stage play by great actor Robert Shaw: a Jewish sculptor living in New York is arrested and tried as, and confesses to being, a notorious concentration camp official. But is he? Half the film leads up to the arrest, exploring this odd millionaire with the uncomfortable, gallows humor; the second half is the trial. Schell's performance is mesmerizing at times, but it also plateaus a bit, as he shouts with a mad expression throughout much of the runtime. He's getting a kick out of playing this mysterious and eccentric character, but it's exhausting.
James Whitmore in Give 'Em Hell, Harry!
**
The one-man show starring Whitmore as President Truman is quite literally a taped stage performance, often stopping to accommodate laughter and applause. One could forgive this were it a more challenging role, yet Whitmore is given little more to do than channel GREAT and AMAZING and OH IF ONLY OL' HARRY WAS STILL AROUND, with some sideswipes at then-recently disgraced Nixon. Honestly, I kind of wanted to yell at him every time he stopped himself to go, "Now, wait, now, hold on, just a minute, there, HOLD ON!" It happens constantly, and comes off more as poor improv than scripted mannerism.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
In one of the most deserving Oscars ever received, Nicholson won the Academy Award. And yet....I have to give credit to the colorful, engaging, fearless performance from another great actor. My Oscar vote goes to:
AL PACINO
in
DOG DAY AFTERNOON
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Best of the Bunch: Supporting Actor, 1975
Here's a rarity: a Supporting Actor lineup made up exclusively of supporting performances!
Like Best Picture, this is probably one of the most solid lineups in the history of the field. Trust me: I've been playing close attention since 2005, and including my two retrospectives, this is the strongest field I've seen. Also, while I've still got to see Hester Street, this is the best slate of acting nominees Oscar's class of 1975 offers. We've got two veterans, of course, but these are more than mere career nominations: Burns steals the film from the rest of his co-stars, while Meredith exits his early and haunts throughout. We've also got the two newcomers: Dourif, giving surprising nuance to a role that could have just been a collection of mannerisms, and Sarandon, whose tiny appearance changes our perception of the protagonist and conveys both humanity and incredulity. And then there's Warden, in the first of two nominations for his Warren Beatty collaborations.
Recommended viewing for all, of course. And now, the nominees for Best Supporting Actor:
George Burns in The Sunshine Boys
Burns rarely changes up his line-readings, delivering most of his performance in a solid deadpan. It's brilliant, and makes his Al Lewis both hilarious and realistic: you believe that this simple old guy just wanted to settle down and be a grandpa. His masterful simmering is a great counterpoint to Matthau's histrionics, giving him the comic edge in each of their scenes. He's the one you remember at movie's end.
Brad Dourif in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Dourif plays Billy Bibbitt, the sweet stuttering kid who doubts himself, hero-worships McMurphy, and is the most under the thumb of Nurse Ratched, who is friends with his mother. Dourif doesn't just lean on the tics, and his Billy is always watching, lapping up the events around him with all the excitement of...well, of a teenager. That last scene, defiant and embarrassed and mortified, surprises with the easy shift between emotions, and it is this Billy that invites us to share the same loyalty and rage McMurphy feels. Pretty good stuff.
Burgess Meredith in The Day of the Locust
A member of Locust's parade of grotesques, Meredith's vaudeville clown turned door-to-door salesman is a haunting, unsightly thing. Contorting his face and body to further the humiliation endured by this has-been, Meredith ably conveys the desperate sadness behind the cackling mask. His self-deprecating monologue, in which he declares his undying love for his cheating ex-wife, is haunting. Brief yet memorable.
Chris Sarandon in Dog Day Afternoon
Sarandon gets two scenes to convey the dizzying cocktail depression, naivete, paranoia, selfishness, affection, familiarity and weariness felt by Leon, the "wife" of our protagonist. He nails it.
Jack Warden in Shampoo
A simple role, that of the cuckold, himself unfaithful, who wanders about oblivious to what's going on between Warren Beatty's hairdresser and the rest of the female ensemble. An impossible role, that of the cuckold who discovers betrayal and handles it like a gentleman because, eh, what a world, you know what I mean? Well, Warden knocks it out of the park, crafting one of the more memorable performances of this year. His Lester can be vulgar, but you see the warmth that could draw a woman to him (it's more than money, surely). You actually seem him putting the puzzle pieces together in his mind, then purposely scattering them about so as to keep all unpleasantness at arm's length. It's a funny performance, never false, immediately magnetic.
--------------------------------------------------------
Oscar awarded the scene-stealing Burns, but I've got a soft spot for the bald spot, and award the Oscar to...
Like Best Picture, this is probably one of the most solid lineups in the history of the field. Trust me: I've been playing close attention since 2005, and including my two retrospectives, this is the strongest field I've seen. Also, while I've still got to see Hester Street, this is the best slate of acting nominees Oscar's class of 1975 offers. We've got two veterans, of course, but these are more than mere career nominations: Burns steals the film from the rest of his co-stars, while Meredith exits his early and haunts throughout. We've also got the two newcomers: Dourif, giving surprising nuance to a role that could have just been a collection of mannerisms, and Sarandon, whose tiny appearance changes our perception of the protagonist and conveys both humanity and incredulity. And then there's Warden, in the first of two nominations for his Warren Beatty collaborations.
Recommended viewing for all, of course. And now, the nominees for Best Supporting Actor:
George Burns in The Sunshine Boys
****
Burns rarely changes up his line-readings, delivering most of his performance in a solid deadpan. It's brilliant, and makes his Al Lewis both hilarious and realistic: you believe that this simple old guy just wanted to settle down and be a grandpa. His masterful simmering is a great counterpoint to Matthau's histrionics, giving him the comic edge in each of their scenes. He's the one you remember at movie's end.
Brad Dourif in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
***
Dourif plays Billy Bibbitt, the sweet stuttering kid who doubts himself, hero-worships McMurphy, and is the most under the thumb of Nurse Ratched, who is friends with his mother. Dourif doesn't just lean on the tics, and his Billy is always watching, lapping up the events around him with all the excitement of...well, of a teenager. That last scene, defiant and embarrassed and mortified, surprises with the easy shift between emotions, and it is this Billy that invites us to share the same loyalty and rage McMurphy feels. Pretty good stuff.
Burgess Meredith in The Day of the Locust
***
A member of Locust's parade of grotesques, Meredith's vaudeville clown turned door-to-door salesman is a haunting, unsightly thing. Contorting his face and body to further the humiliation endured by this has-been, Meredith ably conveys the desperate sadness behind the cackling mask. His self-deprecating monologue, in which he declares his undying love for his cheating ex-wife, is haunting. Brief yet memorable.
Chris Sarandon in Dog Day Afternoon
****
Sarandon gets two scenes to convey the dizzying cocktail depression, naivete, paranoia, selfishness, affection, familiarity and weariness felt by Leon, the "wife" of our protagonist. He nails it.
Jack Warden in Shampoo
*****
A simple role, that of the cuckold, himself unfaithful, who wanders about oblivious to what's going on between Warren Beatty's hairdresser and the rest of the female ensemble. An impossible role, that of the cuckold who discovers betrayal and handles it like a gentleman because, eh, what a world, you know what I mean? Well, Warden knocks it out of the park, crafting one of the more memorable performances of this year. His Lester can be vulgar, but you see the warmth that could draw a woman to him (it's more than money, surely). You actually seem him putting the puzzle pieces together in his mind, then purposely scattering them about so as to keep all unpleasantness at arm's length. It's a funny performance, never false, immediately magnetic.
--------------------------------------------------------
Oscar awarded the scene-stealing Burns, but I've got a soft spot for the bald spot, and award the Oscar to...
JACK WARDEN
for
SHAMPOO
you're not such a miserable human being after all!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Better Films, Lesser Year: Best Picture, 1975
As I mentioned earlier, my journey to the 1975 Retrospective has been
a long one -- so long, in fact, that it is not yet completed. I am
hoping to hit at least 70 films, and I've still got 38 to go...including
four Academy Award nominees.
Anyway, as I say, it's been a long journey. My last post in the Retrospective Series was in August of last year. Since then, I've been working, trying to write, reading, moving...and of course keeping up with current cinema. Besides, it's difficult to reach back into the past and just watch the movies of the time. With the films of 1974, it was no problem. With 1964, I missed one or two, but resources were readily available. 1975, however, is a different beast. Considered by critics of the time as one of the worst years in American Cinema, you will find many of the Oscar nominees difficult to obtain. You can buy Hester Street, with Best Actress nominee Carol Kane, on Amazon...if you're willing to spend 90 dollars for a used DVD. Original Song nominee Whiffs is also available for purchase...if you still possess a VHS player (I don't). And Score nominee Birds Do It, Bees Do It isn't available anywhere, hasn't been seen since HBO showings in the late 80s. I'm still trying to find Hester Street, but you will find more gaps than usual in my profiles.*
In addition, of the films I have seen so far...the critics were right. I don't think it's the nadir, per se, but I find myself shrugging more often than hugging. Often I see performances or technical achievements that succeed in spite of the film. Often I'm just plain bored. I see more and more that the Academy Award Nominees may, indeed, represent the best that year had to offer, and sometimes even that isn't saying much (I'm looking at you, Lies My Father Told Me). One always hopes that you'll find several undiscovered or underrated gems, as with my Best Picture winners Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia or The World of Henry Orient. I'm not saying I haven't completely fallen in love with works previously unknown to me, but I do wish there were a few more.
Yet, despite the fact that these very same experiences -- limited means, disappointing films, etc. -- resulted in my backing off other years, I had to complete 1975. And there are three reasons for this.
1) The Best Picture lineup in one of the best in history. Five classics, all different genres, all directors working at the top of their game.
2) Brenda Vaccaro was nominated for a Jacqueline Susann movie. This I had to see.
3) I had already completed one category.
Of course, that last one is the most important, and ties into the first. I had seen Jaws, Nashville and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest multiple times, and having never seen Dog Day Afternoon since high school, I was eager to revisit it. But what pushed me was the absence of certain films from my theater. The multiplex I work at didn't get to book The Avengers or Dark Shadows, the back-to-back headliners of Summer's beginning. To make up for the fact, we screened a mini-festival in the historic Cinerama Dome: Gone with the Wind, The Shining, Ben-Hur, and many more! And one of these was a little film I'd never seen before, always wanted to see, and was going to get to see on the big screen.
That film was Best Picture nominee Barry Lyndon. I caught it after a screening of Gone with the Wind**, and knew two things. First, I knew I loved it. Second, I knew I had to do this. I had already seen all five Best Picture nominees. Why not finish the job?
And why not start where the project did? Ladies and gentlemen, the nominee for Best Picture, illustrated (as always) with my favorite scenes:
The last nominee I saw, and the one that started this journey. Barry Lyndon is the tale of a common Irishman who manipulates his way up the social ladder in Georgian England. Of course, as this is a Kubrick film, it's boasts exquisite detail in the design, gorgeous cinematography, black humor, and memorable characters. At a little over three hours, it is never dull, constantly surprising us with Barry's progress through the classes, from an impoverished nephew to soldier to spy to professional gambler to Lord of the Manor. Ryan O'Neal is a surprising yet effective choice for the lead role, his vapid beauty a convincing visage for the somewhat dim dreamer. This is in addition, of course, to the great performances coaxed by bit players Murray Melvin, Marie Kean, Frank Middlemass and Dominic Savage, all proud members of the Kubrick Scene-Stealers Club.
It's a fascinating study of the class system, one in which a title may be purchased of a man who has gambled and cheated his way to the top. One cannot fully condemn Barry, either; his lack of social standing costs him his youthful sweetheart. You're either in that 1% or you're nothing. A timeless conflict, obviously.
The first of our three sweaty summer movies on this category. A bank robbery goes awry and becomes a media circus, with hostages that are enjoying themselves, protests supporting the robbers, and a secret marriage that is not what anyone expects. It's also a film boasting one of the greatest performances of Al Pacino's career, supported by an ensemble made up of vivid, serio-comic characters. The pizza delivery guy leaps into the air triumphantly, exclaiming pride and pleasure in his fifteen seconds of television fame. The wife of lead robber Sonny never shuts up, monologue-ing about her fears and disappointments. One of the tellers even refuses to go back with the cops when she can, instead insisting on sticking with her girls as she waves to the crowd...and cameras.
For that's what the movie is all about: the media and the ways in which it can be used and abused. Though there to cover a hostage crisis, the news cameras instead record a triumphant Sonny as he orders around the cops, tosses money to the crowd, and entertains his hostages. The dim-witted thieves become symbols of gay oppression and police brutality, even though only one of them is gay and the only physical violence comes at the hands of one hostage's hot-headed boyfriend. One of the final scenes has a car driving Sonny and Sal through the crowd outside the bank, and they meet with both cheers and jeers: an audience watching a sporting event. Humorous, a little cynical, yet always human.
Required viewing every year. Jaws is, of course, the first summer blockbuster, which broke box office records and made the career of young director Steven Spielberg. It's so integrated into the popular consciousness that one could probably quote most of the film without having ever seen it: "You're gonna need a bigger boat" "duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn" "Smile you son of a bitch" and so on. It's known as one of the scariest films of all time, and as one of the films that killed the auteur fad of the 1970s. People call it a timeless masterpiece, others dated and overrated. A film as big as Jaws is going to have a lot of equally rabid supporters and detractors, but most people rarely take the time to sit down and watch the film beginning to end. No need to, right? Everyone knows it.
When you do, though, you realize how solid a film Jaws really is. The chemistry between the main trio, the tight editing, John Williams' score building menacingly; certainly that's all wonderful, but what we've forgotten over time is the way this film charts the arc of Roy Scheider's Brody. A city cop who moves to Amity Island to get away from urban squalor, Brody fears the water, feet never touching the beachside flotsam, yet finds himself in the middle of the ocean against a calculating man-eater. He becomes almost an observer in the latter half of the film, out of his element, ceding authority to Quint, yet it is he who must ultimately step up and defeat the shark. Then swim back to the mainland. He reminds me of my dad: devoted to his family, sensible, willing to do what it takes for those he loves. I can identify with Jaws.
Besides, it's still really fucking scary.
Regular readers of this blog or my Twitter, or indeed any casual peruser of my profile, knows how I feel about Nashville. It's Altman's masterpiece, not just the first of his kaleidoscopic ensemble films, but the most successful at capturing the spontaneous highs and lows of all classes, races and ages. You GET the behavioral whys and wherefores of characters as diverse as ex-con Wade and superstar Haven Hamilton, punctuated in every scene by musical performances ranging from the emotional to the absurd.
Its fashion, politics, anticipation of the Bicentennial and casting of Michael Murphy in a lead role may date it, but its appeal ranges from my ex's dad to myself. We recognize ourselves in the characters, and not always the most savory ones. Maybe, like Sueleen Gay, we think we're the next big star, convinced that the reason nothing's happened for us has more to do with timing than talent (sometimes true, but sometimes we shouldn't kid ourselves). Maybe, like Mr. Green, we're too passive and accommodating in our relationships with people, no matter how little respect they pay us. Maybe, like the Hal Phillip Walker campaign girls, we're putting all our hopes and dreams for the future in a politician who seems too good to be good. Whoever you are, you'll find yourself in Nashville (and among 24 of your favorite stars!).
The legend itself. Winner of five Academy Awards, listed on both of AFI's Top 100 Movies, referenced in everything from Daria to It's Kind of a Funny Story. Schools teach it, doctors have gone into the mental health profession because of it, people constantly argue the merits of it. Cuckoo's Nest has a reputation for a reason: it's a solidly put-together, at times inspiring story of a rebel fighting against the system and the cold-hearted, power-mad authority figures who try to bring him down. Great performances from Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher as the two forces fighting for the souls of the mental patients, and of course from the patients themselves: future stars Christopher Lloyd and Danny DeVito, third-billed William Redfield, Academy Award nominee Brad Dourif, and more!
I do feel, sometimes, that the film simplifies the conflict, unmistakably rooting for its "counter-culture" hero while only barely acknowledging the fact that he's a manipulative crook with no understanding of the very real problems his fellow inmates face. Nurse Ratched is too easily villainized as this unfeeling woman, without any acknowledgment of the necessities in running a mental ward. Still, I have to give credit to the actors for attempting to bring a shadow of this conflict into better focus. And really, one starts to forget that when faced with the inspiring fantasy World Series, triumphant fishing trip and quietly cathartic Christmas party. It's honestly moving, anchored by Nicholson's authentic performance -- my dad always cites the split-second moment in the basketball game when McMurphy wipes his snot as one of the greatest genuine moments in film.
---------------------------------------
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest won in a grand sweep, the first film since It Happened One Night to win both Lead Acting categories, Screenplay, Director and Picture. Awesome. But I started with Best Picture because it's the least suspenseful of my profiles. Those of you who know me, read me, tweet me, y'all know that I have to back my favorite movie of all time:
*I mean, I missed Margin Call, A Separation and A Better Life last year; it happens
**Spoiler for both films, but this double feature had the surprising theme of Social Schemers and the Horses Who Hate Their Kids
Anyway, as I say, it's been a long journey. My last post in the Retrospective Series was in August of last year. Since then, I've been working, trying to write, reading, moving...and of course keeping up with current cinema. Besides, it's difficult to reach back into the past and just watch the movies of the time. With the films of 1974, it was no problem. With 1964, I missed one or two, but resources were readily available. 1975, however, is a different beast. Considered by critics of the time as one of the worst years in American Cinema, you will find many of the Oscar nominees difficult to obtain. You can buy Hester Street, with Best Actress nominee Carol Kane, on Amazon...if you're willing to spend 90 dollars for a used DVD. Original Song nominee Whiffs is also available for purchase...if you still possess a VHS player (I don't). And Score nominee Birds Do It, Bees Do It isn't available anywhere, hasn't been seen since HBO showings in the late 80s. I'm still trying to find Hester Street, but you will find more gaps than usual in my profiles.*
In addition, of the films I have seen so far...the critics were right. I don't think it's the nadir, per se, but I find myself shrugging more often than hugging. Often I see performances or technical achievements that succeed in spite of the film. Often I'm just plain bored. I see more and more that the Academy Award Nominees may, indeed, represent the best that year had to offer, and sometimes even that isn't saying much (I'm looking at you, Lies My Father Told Me). One always hopes that you'll find several undiscovered or underrated gems, as with my Best Picture winners Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia or The World of Henry Orient. I'm not saying I haven't completely fallen in love with works previously unknown to me, but I do wish there were a few more.
Yet, despite the fact that these very same experiences -- limited means, disappointing films, etc. -- resulted in my backing off other years, I had to complete 1975. And there are three reasons for this.
1) The Best Picture lineup in one of the best in history. Five classics, all different genres, all directors working at the top of their game.
2) Brenda Vaccaro was nominated for a Jacqueline Susann movie. This I had to see.
3) I had already completed one category.
Of course, that last one is the most important, and ties into the first. I had seen Jaws, Nashville and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest multiple times, and having never seen Dog Day Afternoon since high school, I was eager to revisit it. But what pushed me was the absence of certain films from my theater. The multiplex I work at didn't get to book The Avengers or Dark Shadows, the back-to-back headliners of Summer's beginning. To make up for the fact, we screened a mini-festival in the historic Cinerama Dome: Gone with the Wind, The Shining, Ben-Hur, and many more! And one of these was a little film I'd never seen before, always wanted to see, and was going to get to see on the big screen.
That film was Best Picture nominee Barry Lyndon. I caught it after a screening of Gone with the Wind**, and knew two things. First, I knew I loved it. Second, I knew I had to do this. I had already seen all five Best Picture nominees. Why not finish the job?
And why not start where the project did? Ladies and gentlemen, the nominee for Best Picture, illustrated (as always) with my favorite scenes:
Barry Lyndon
****
The last nominee I saw, and the one that started this journey. Barry Lyndon is the tale of a common Irishman who manipulates his way up the social ladder in Georgian England. Of course, as this is a Kubrick film, it's boasts exquisite detail in the design, gorgeous cinematography, black humor, and memorable characters. At a little over three hours, it is never dull, constantly surprising us with Barry's progress through the classes, from an impoverished nephew to soldier to spy to professional gambler to Lord of the Manor. Ryan O'Neal is a surprising yet effective choice for the lead role, his vapid beauty a convincing visage for the somewhat dim dreamer. This is in addition, of course, to the great performances coaxed by bit players Murray Melvin, Marie Kean, Frank Middlemass and Dominic Savage, all proud members of the Kubrick Scene-Stealers Club.
It's a fascinating study of the class system, one in which a title may be purchased of a man who has gambled and cheated his way to the top. One cannot fully condemn Barry, either; his lack of social standing costs him his youthful sweetheart. You're either in that 1% or you're nothing. A timeless conflict, obviously.
Dog Day Afternoon
****
The first of our three sweaty summer movies on this category. A bank robbery goes awry and becomes a media circus, with hostages that are enjoying themselves, protests supporting the robbers, and a secret marriage that is not what anyone expects. It's also a film boasting one of the greatest performances of Al Pacino's career, supported by an ensemble made up of vivid, serio-comic characters. The pizza delivery guy leaps into the air triumphantly, exclaiming pride and pleasure in his fifteen seconds of television fame. The wife of lead robber Sonny never shuts up, monologue-ing about her fears and disappointments. One of the tellers even refuses to go back with the cops when she can, instead insisting on sticking with her girls as she waves to the crowd...and cameras.
For that's what the movie is all about: the media and the ways in which it can be used and abused. Though there to cover a hostage crisis, the news cameras instead record a triumphant Sonny as he orders around the cops, tosses money to the crowd, and entertains his hostages. The dim-witted thieves become symbols of gay oppression and police brutality, even though only one of them is gay and the only physical violence comes at the hands of one hostage's hot-headed boyfriend. One of the final scenes has a car driving Sonny and Sal through the crowd outside the bank, and they meet with both cheers and jeers: an audience watching a sporting event. Humorous, a little cynical, yet always human.
Jaws
****
Required viewing every year. Jaws is, of course, the first summer blockbuster, which broke box office records and made the career of young director Steven Spielberg. It's so integrated into the popular consciousness that one could probably quote most of the film without having ever seen it: "You're gonna need a bigger boat" "duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn" "Smile you son of a bitch" and so on. It's known as one of the scariest films of all time, and as one of the films that killed the auteur fad of the 1970s. People call it a timeless masterpiece, others dated and overrated. A film as big as Jaws is going to have a lot of equally rabid supporters and detractors, but most people rarely take the time to sit down and watch the film beginning to end. No need to, right? Everyone knows it.
When you do, though, you realize how solid a film Jaws really is. The chemistry between the main trio, the tight editing, John Williams' score building menacingly; certainly that's all wonderful, but what we've forgotten over time is the way this film charts the arc of Roy Scheider's Brody. A city cop who moves to Amity Island to get away from urban squalor, Brody fears the water, feet never touching the beachside flotsam, yet finds himself in the middle of the ocean against a calculating man-eater. He becomes almost an observer in the latter half of the film, out of his element, ceding authority to Quint, yet it is he who must ultimately step up and defeat the shark. Then swim back to the mainland. He reminds me of my dad: devoted to his family, sensible, willing to do what it takes for those he loves. I can identify with Jaws.
Besides, it's still really fucking scary.
Nashville
*****
Regular readers of this blog or my Twitter, or indeed any casual peruser of my profile, knows how I feel about Nashville. It's Altman's masterpiece, not just the first of his kaleidoscopic ensemble films, but the most successful at capturing the spontaneous highs and lows of all classes, races and ages. You GET the behavioral whys and wherefores of characters as diverse as ex-con Wade and superstar Haven Hamilton, punctuated in every scene by musical performances ranging from the emotional to the absurd.
Its fashion, politics, anticipation of the Bicentennial and casting of Michael Murphy in a lead role may date it, but its appeal ranges from my ex's dad to myself. We recognize ourselves in the characters, and not always the most savory ones. Maybe, like Sueleen Gay, we think we're the next big star, convinced that the reason nothing's happened for us has more to do with timing than talent (sometimes true, but sometimes we shouldn't kid ourselves). Maybe, like Mr. Green, we're too passive and accommodating in our relationships with people, no matter how little respect they pay us. Maybe, like the Hal Phillip Walker campaign girls, we're putting all our hopes and dreams for the future in a politician who seems too good to be good. Whoever you are, you'll find yourself in Nashville (and among 24 of your favorite stars!).
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
***
The legend itself. Winner of five Academy Awards, listed on both of AFI's Top 100 Movies, referenced in everything from Daria to It's Kind of a Funny Story. Schools teach it, doctors have gone into the mental health profession because of it, people constantly argue the merits of it. Cuckoo's Nest has a reputation for a reason: it's a solidly put-together, at times inspiring story of a rebel fighting against the system and the cold-hearted, power-mad authority figures who try to bring him down. Great performances from Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher as the two forces fighting for the souls of the mental patients, and of course from the patients themselves: future stars Christopher Lloyd and Danny DeVito, third-billed William Redfield, Academy Award nominee Brad Dourif, and more!
I do feel, sometimes, that the film simplifies the conflict, unmistakably rooting for its "counter-culture" hero while only barely acknowledging the fact that he's a manipulative crook with no understanding of the very real problems his fellow inmates face. Nurse Ratched is too easily villainized as this unfeeling woman, without any acknowledgment of the necessities in running a mental ward. Still, I have to give credit to the actors for attempting to bring a shadow of this conflict into better focus. And really, one starts to forget that when faced with the inspiring fantasy World Series, triumphant fishing trip and quietly cathartic Christmas party. It's honestly moving, anchored by Nicholson's authentic performance -- my dad always cites the split-second moment in the basketball game when McMurphy wipes his snot as one of the greatest genuine moments in film.
---------------------------------------
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest won in a grand sweep, the first film since It Happened One Night to win both Lead Acting categories, Screenplay, Director and Picture. Awesome. But I started with Best Picture because it's the least suspenseful of my profiles. Those of you who know me, read me, tweet me, y'all know that I have to back my favorite movie of all time:
NASHVILLE
i never get enough
*I mean, I missed Margin Call, A Separation and A Better Life last year; it happens
**Spoiler for both films, but this double feature had the surprising theme of Social Schemers and the Horses Who Hate Their Kids
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