Cinema '65: The Artist and the Messiah

'Twas the days of the roadshow picture, when two-hour flicks had intermissions and comedies could last 3 hours. Take the family, pay the fee, spend the day gazing up at the widescreen pleasures the studios could afford to bring you. In LA, you can still get that kind of thrill from the occasional screening at the Egyptian -- South Pacific on a brand new print! Auntie Mame! Lawrence of Arabia anniversary tribute -- and when I do go, I wish others had such an opportunity, for some films are true big-screen experiences.

The five nominees for Color Cinematography are all such films -- beautiful, detailed, and awe-inspiring. Well, four of them anyway. Let's look.

Looks Like a Winner: Best Cinematography, 1971

I probably shouldn't point out that this is almost a full week late, but hey -- it's here, right?

Now we come to a difficult point of assessment: Cinematography. Many times, we grade it in terms of what looks prettiest, but this is not necessarily the best choice -- not all movies are made to be pretty. We also sometimes judge on technical wizardry or degree of difficulty -- better, perhaps, but I don't care how much of Gravity was a single take, it was a 3D film that looked flat. In the end, one must always consider what it does for the film.

And sometimes, I just go for the prettiest.

As with any category, there are certain looks, and certain genres, that tend to crop up come nomination time. If I may...

THE EARTHY ART PIECE

The film that people would describe as "painterly", yet not necessarily bold in color. It was meant quite literally for biopic Mr. Turner this year, a reflection of the titular painter's own very mustardy canvases, but also serves well for 1971's Fiddler on the Roof, which, despite its musical genre, has a quite natural, clay-like look to it. Both have phenomenal sunsets, too.

THE MONOCHROME MASTERPIECE

In the age of color film, going black-and-white seems to almost guarantee a nod (Nebraska, for God's sake). Artfully applied this year for Poland's Ida, a tale of identity, memory, morality, and the grey areas in all; also beautiful in 1971's The Last Picture Show.

THE SINGLE-TAKE WONDER

Nothing impresses like a beautifully-lit film with at least one single-take scene, one that makes our jaws drop and exclaim, "HOW?!?" This year, Birdman is getting the praise, as the entire film is comprised of several long-take scenes; in 1971, Summer of '42 the climax is filmed uninterrupted within a single room.

THE HISTORICAL EPIC FROM OL' RELIABLE

There are masters of the craft who are respected and beloved by their peers. Today, we have Roger Deakins, once again nominated (and, once again, probably unsuccessfully) for his reliably great work on the war film Unbroken. In 1971, there was Freddie Young, celebrating the last of his five nominations (three of which he won) for the Romanov bio Nicholas and Alexandra.

THE WINTRY WONDER

There is, I think, a special talent to making a frosty frame, to capturing the genuine chill of a setting. Certainly The Grand Budapest Hotel feels like winter, even indoors; so, too, does The French Connection. Neither really looks similar, and they certainly cover action differently, but at least I'm not alone in admiring icy cinematography.

Less muddle after the jump