Well, this is it. The end of my look at the 1975 Oscar nominees.
I wish it could be more complete, truly. But after trying the library, appeals on Twitter, etc., I just couldn't find a way of getting to Hester Street. I learned to accept this, though. As I mentioned earlier, I missed A Better Life last year, and I managed to survive. Truthfully, I love seeing every nominee if I can -- but if I can't, I must accept it.
The four I did get to see were phenomenal, though. I know I'm supposed to view 1974 as this category's zenith, but I prefer the zaniness of this year's line-up. Indeed, it was difficult to choose a winner...not until today did I settle on my champion.
But you'll see that eventually. For now, the nominees for Best Actress:
Isabelle Adjani in The Story of Adele H.
*****
Only nineteen when she took the role, Adjani surprises with her subtlety and insight. She is Adele H., the daughter of Victor Hugo who pursues the man she loves all the way to Nova Scotia -- though he does not love her back. Look at the way Adjani allows Adele to practically swoon over the lies she tells, until she herself believes them. The self-righteous anger with which she writes her parents, asking for more money and announcing a fictional betrothal, is immediately recognizable in any number of young people who insist that they have found their one true love. And the unconcerned, confident way she struts about, hair akimbo, talking to herself: that's the confidence of a crazy person who has no idea why the world is conspiring against them.
Ann-Margret in Tommy
****
As one critic put it, "she sings and dances like the fate of western civilization depends on it." Or at least that of her son, the titular deaf, dumb and blind kid. Ann-Margret is remarkable as Nora Walker: after her Act One hysterics of "What About the Boy?", she shows a mother who still tries to get her son some sort of help -- specialists, religion, whatever -- but has more or less shut down. And when he has finally found something in his pinball wizardry, she shows us the conflict between enjoying his success and weeping the inability to communicate with him. Surely the sequence of "Smash the Mirror/I'm Free", when she can finally tell him how he's a Messianic millionaire inspiring people, is her strongest moment: as she reaches out with the love of a mother, her eyes roll with the madness of a fanatic. It is an utterly bizarre, gaga performance, but damn if she isn't selling it.
Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
***
Displaying the same knack for understatement she displayed in Thieves Like Us, Fletcher's legendary portrayal of Nurse Ratched is more textured than the rest of the film wants to allow. Certainly, Ratched seems cold-hearted in her clinical detachment from her patients, and almost sociopathic in her humiliating goading of public confessions during "group therapy". But when dealing with a floor full of emotionally unstable people, voluntary or not, clinical detachment is probably the best course of action. Indeed, whereas other actresses could have made this a monstrous, power-mad villain, Fletcher makes it clear that while Nurse Ratched may indeed be controlling, she is a nurse who cares for her patients: witness her "NOOOO!" at the fate of one the patients in the finale. And when someone comes along to threaten what she considers to be the Right Way to Do Things, he must be stopped -- by any means necessary. Of course, I still consider this a supporting role, so I dinged her a star (as is my custom), but Fletcher's contribution is not to be understated.
Glenda Jackson in Hedda
****
It is said that Hedda Gabler can be played as a victim, a villain or a feminist hero. Jackson does a bizarre combination of all three that is absolutely delicious. Jackson's performance is the delirious icing on the crazy cake that is Best Actress, 1975. She presents Hedda as a woman who has made her bed, but refuses to lie in it; who entraps the man she loves and the people who love her as a bizarre revenge for crimes against her pride; who knows she's funny and brilliant, but also knows that that's worth peanuts to this group of academics and gossips. In short, Jackson plays Hedda as far too good for these people -- and this play -- and as such is someone who, in my most egocentric moments (don't we all have those), I completely identify with. Confident of her smarts, mystified by her presence among these people. Her reading of "vine-leaves wrapped in his hair" is to die for.
As I said, I had the devil of a time choosing my champion. I even thought about a tie, but no...one must choose. So, while Fletcher won the real Oscar, my Oscar vote goes to:
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.
Jaw-dropping. Lit predominately with natural light and candles, John Alcott captures the period not just in flawlessly imitating the artwork of the period, as per Kubrick's vision, but in also capturing how this world must have looked before the light bulb switched on.
Conrad Hall for The Day of the Locust
****
Conrad Hall constantly invokes the guignol aspirations of this adaptation through his eerie lighting choices, often drowning the cast in pitch black, or else emphasizing the bags, wrinkles and shadows under their eyes. Spotlighting the action in certain pivotal scenes, as though it's a star on the red carpet, is a brilliant choice.
James Wong Howe for Funny Lady
**
It honestly seems too bright most of the time. A marvelously-lit train scene is to be praised, but otherwise we get flat images, whether it be a stage performance or a dressing-room scene. Disappointing.
Robert Surtees for The Hindenburg
****
I like the difference between the brightly-lit passenger area and the darker recesses of the zeppelin's skeleton well enough. But you just know this nomination comes from the final sequence, where the film stock is suddenly grainy black-and-white to match the newsreel footage of the original blimp's destruction. It's as it should be: the sequence is marvelously captured, breathtaking, and seamless.
Haskell Wexler and Bill Butler for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
***
Solid work. His lighting emphasizes the cold sterility of the ward by day. At night, his moonlight is never too much, but just enough to cast all but the scene's focus in ignorant darkness.
------------------------------------
When only one Best Picture nominee is a lavishly-mounted period piece, you know it's going home with all the craft trophies. Maybe that's a bit expected and predictable, but it doesn't make the film any less worthy. Like its members, I give the Academy Award to:
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:
It's funny: the more things change, the more they stay the same. In 1974, this category saw honors for Richard Rodney Bennett, Alex North, John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith and Nino Rota & Carmine Coppola, who scored the eventual Best Picture winner. In 1975, we're now looking at a line-up that includes Gerald Fried, Alex North, John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith and Jack Nitzche, who scored the eventual Best Picture winner. As always, Goldsmith's and Williams' scores have stood the test of time, with both up for AFI's 100 Best Film Scores (only Jaws placed).
Gerald Fried for Birds Do It, Bees Do It
ABSTAIN
I will never understand how an Academy Award-nominated film can go unreleased in any home viewing format. It boggles the mind, and reduces the film to a footnote.
Alex North for Bite the Bullet
***
This year was full of hat-tips to genres past, and North's Classic Western score is no exception. Shades of Aaron Copland in this perfectly fine, solid piece of work. It doesn't distinguish itself as much as the other nominees, but it's not to be sniffed at.
John Williams for Jaws
*****
Instantly iconic. Everyone knows what you mean when you go "duhn duhn duhn duhn, etc." But we shouldn't forget the more adventurous music played for the Orca, music that calls back another era of filmmaking and turns the men's trip into a high-seas adventure...before returning to the relentless repetition of those damning strings.
Jack Nitzche for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
****
Its Native American influence hints at the novel's origins, as it provides the connection between Chief Bromden and Randle McMurphy. A simple tune, it's calming at the beginning, triumphant near the end, and haunting well afterward.
Jerry Goldsmith for The Wind and the Lion
****
Where Milius fails, Goldsmith succeeds. Exciting and exotic, the score provides the adventure, romance and depth lacking elsewhere in the film. Paves the way for future adventure scores from Raiders of the Lost Ark to the remake of The Mummy. The kind of music that gets your blood pumping and turns the most mundane of tasks into a mission.
------------------------------------------------
I have to admit, Oscar usually does me proud in this category, and I'm going with its proclamation that the Award for Best Original Score belongs to:
Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay tend to go hand in hand. 1975 is one of the three years where one film ruled the Big Five -- Picture, Director, Actor, Actress and Screenplay -- but in all three cases, that screenplay category was Adapted. Of the 84 films that have won Best Picture, 58 of them are adapted works. And, as in most years, while it's obvious who wins Original Screenplay, the Adapted Screenplay field consists of more than one Best Picture nominee, plus some audience and critic favorites.
When a miniseries of Vanity Fair aired on British television, Stanley Kubrick scrapped his plans for an adaptation and, instead, went with Barry Lyndon, another dark satire from William Makepeace Thackeray. Director John Huston had been planning to adapt Rudyard Kipling's "The Man Who Would Be King" for decades; finally, with co-screenwriter Gladys Hill, he got a production off the ground. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest began as a novel by Ken Kesey, before becoming a Broadway play by Dale Wasserman and starring Kirk Douglas; Douglas tried to get a film version off the ground, but it was his son Michael who found success with it, with Bo Goldman and Lawrence Hauben going back to the original novel for inspiration. The traditional foreign-language entry this year was the Italian Scent of a Woman, adapted by director Dino Risi and Ruggero Maccari; it would later be remade in 1992 with an Oscar-winning performance by Al Pacino. And then there's Neil Simon's adaptation of his play The Sunshine Boys, which I'm pretty convinced just missed out on a Best Picture nom. Screenplay, Art Direction and two Acting nods? If Airport can do it...
Notably absent from the lineup is Jaws, based on the novel by Peter Benchley, adapted by Benchley and Carl Gottlieb. Was it the fact that everyone looked at it as just a Blockbuster film, with no real pedigree to earn nominations in such intellectual, high-class awards like Director and Screenplay? Was it the fact that the best-written scene was mostly written by an uncredited Robert Shaw? Or were these five genuinely just better?
Well, I know at least one of them isn't better -- by far. But take a look yourself! The nominees for Best Adapted Screenplay are:
Stanley Kubrick for Barry Lyndon, from the novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray
****
Dryly humorous, with great moments of irony via a coldly-written narrator. Almost imperceptibly slips from a period comedy to a drama, building up the hitherto hinted-at ferocity of Mrs. Barry, squeamishness of Bullingdon and the manipulations of Reverend Runt. True, it's obviously building this from the source novel, but it is written clearly, missing neither detail nor tone.
John Huston and Gladys Hill for The Man Who Would Be King, from the short story by Rudyard Kipling
*****
Thrilling, another fun romp that evolves into something more. The central characters are distinct enough that you get their individual temperaments and still understand the mutual craziness that bonds them together. The ease with which one falls from power is hinted at throughout with the darkly-funny reoccurrances of the Buzkashi games. And, of course, turning the source tale's narrator into Rudyard Kipling himself adds an illusion of veracity and weight to the proceedings.
Bo Goldman and Lawrence Haubner for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, from the novel by Ken Kesey
****
By turning the focus from literary protagonist Chief Bromden solely to Randle McMurphy, we get a more focused character study of a sane man fighting the system from a madhouse. Little tweaks make McMurphy more of a rebel/liberator, such as breaking the patients out for some fishing (in the novel, it's a sanctioned field trip), thereby emphasizing his role as everyman hero. This firmly anti-establishment siding with McMurphy risks simplifying the conflict between him and Nurse Ratched, though still plays ambiguously enough so that the actors can interpret it either way.
Ruggero Maccari and Dino Risi for Scent of a Woman, from the novel Il buio e il miele by Giovanni Arpino
**
It's the original Italian version of that movie Pacino won his Oscar for! There are fewer Big Moments here, focusing a lot on the blind captain's love of big brunettes, finding several ways to show his softer, more sensitive side without resorting to a tango. Mostly, this comes in the form of a beautiful young woman who has always loved him, but that section kind of creeped me out, especially since the script, if I'm judging that ending correctly, roots for them to get together. The poor young man charged with accompanying the captain is sidelined, his arc not unfinished so much as declared unnecessary. Weird, considering he was the protagonist.
Neil Simon for The Sunshine Boys, from his play
***
Simon gets three things right. First is the relationship between Willie Clark and his nephew, written with the casual cruelty that some family members can unknowingly deliver. Second is the working relationship between Willie and Al Lewis, written with the familiarity of 30 years of friendship and the bitterness of ten years of animosity. Finally, of course, is that Doctor sketch, so creaky and groan-inducing, yet occasionally funny enough, that it seems almost lifted from an actual sketch from the 20s or 30s. Perhaps there's a one-liner too many that interrupts the flow of some scenes, but it's still a solid base for the actors to work from.
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.
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:
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.
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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
Remember how we talked about It Happened One Night, the first movie to win the Big Five at the Oscars? Remember how I mentioned two others that have achieved this same phenomenal feat? Well, get ready, because here's Number Two.
It all started with a book by Ken Kesey, one influenced by his own experiences in a mental hospital (as staff, people, nothing else), and by peyote. Seriously, I saw it in a documentary. So, Kesey writes this book, and it splits people. Some are all like, "Yeah, Mac! Fuck the establishment!" Others were all, "You know, some of Ratched's deeds make sense." The doc I saw interviewed a director of mental institutions, who got into it because he wanted to reform them, after reading the book. Twenty years later, he finds the Nurse more sympathetic than the Rebel. Well, success came, and eventually Kirk Douglas played the lead in a stage version written by Dale Wasserman. He bought the movie rights, gave them to his son, Michael (Mr. Zeta-Jones), and then hired a director, Milos Forman. One thing led to another, and before you know it, we have one of the most highly-revered movies of all time.
This marked the film debuts of Christopher Lloyd (Doc Brown), Brad Dourif (Chucky) and Danny DeVito (Arnold's twin). It was the first of many wins for Jack Nicholson. Michael Douglas made a name for himself as a producer. Louise Fletcher's Nurse Ratched earned a reputation as one of the greatest movie villains of all time (indeed, AFI ranked her #5 on their official list, one of six females in the Top Ten). It swept the Globes, winning all six categories it was nominated for.
Yet Ken Kesey refused to see the film. He was offended, of course, by the fact that his screenplay was rejected. Worse, though, was the fact that the film made McMurphy the lead, rather than telling it through Chief Bromden's eyes, as in the original novel. Kesey has yet to see the film, though he reportedly admits that he caught twenty minutes of a fantastic flick on a hote television before realizing it was Cuckoo's Nest.
Kesey be damned, the Academy fucking loved the shit out of the movie. Nominated for nine Oscars, it was up against some of the greatest films in cinematic history: Stanley Kubrick's unconventional Barry Lyndon, Steven Spielberg's summer blockbuster Jaws, Sidney Lumet's satirical Dog Day Afternoon, and the Greatest Movie of All Time, Robert Altman's Nashville. Jack Nitzche's Original Score lost to John Williams' score for Jaws (no argument here). The three-person team of Richard Chew, Lynzee Klingman and Sheldon Kahn lost Editing to Verna Fields, also for Jaws (again, how can I disagree?). Haskell Wexler and Bill Butler lost Cinematography to John Alcott for Barry Lyndon. And newcomer Brad Dourif lost his Best Supporting Actor Oscar to George Burns for The Sunshine Boys.
Whatever, man. It's one of only three films to get the Grand Slam at the Oscars. Bo Goldman and Lawrence Hauben won Best Adapted Screenplay (take that, Barry Lyndon, Scent of a Woman, The Man Who Would Be King, and The Sunshine Boys!). Louise Fletcher somehow managed to defeat Ann-Margret's immortal performance in Tommy to win Best Actress. Jack Nicholson won his first Oscar for Best Actor. Milos Forman won Best Director, though Robert Altman was just as deserving. And yes, producers Saul Zaentz and Michael Douglas took home Oscars when their baby won...BEST MOTION PICTURE OF THE YEAR.
And dare I even attempt to tamper with such a legend? Of course I do.
BILLY BIBBIT Who is He: A shy guy with a stutter. Billy is afraid of the outside world, and is a voluntary patient at the hospital. His mother, whom he fears more than antyhing, is besties with Nurse Ratched, which is dangerous indeed. Still a virgin, too.
Originally played by: Academy Award Nominee for Best Supporting Actor (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) Brad Dourif (Child's Play, Seed of Chucky)
My Choice: Razzie Award Nominee for Worst Screen Couple (Pearl Harbor, with Ben Affleck) Josh Hartnett (The Faculty, 30 Days of Night) They cast a little young for the original, but in the book, what is so tragic about Billy is that he behaves like a boy of sixteen while actually a man of thirty-one. And I know Josh Hartnett seems like an odd choice, but I do think he is a capable actor. He doesn't just do shit movies, he actually stars in a large number of indie dramas -- and does pretty well, too! He's thirty-one, which works, and I think his reputation could only add to the sadness of the final act. Not that I'm fully relying on that, because I think he can disappear into it, but still. It'd be cool.
CHIEF BROMDEN Who is He: The Native American patient who has been there for ten years, longer than anyone else. Bromden hallucinates, is paranoid, thinks of the world as a big machine, and is...well, he's crazy, isn't he? But McMurphy gives him his individualism back. After spending ten years as a mute, it is McMurphy who finally gets him to speak again. The narrator of our story.
Originally played by: Will Sampson (Buffalo Bill and the Indians, Orca)
My Choice: Nathan Lee Chasing His Horse, on the left (Dances with Wolves, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee)
CHARLEY CHESWICK Who is He: An easily-influenced patient who immediately sides with McMurphy. He wants something DONE!
Originally played by: Sydney Lassick (1941, Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit)
My Choice: SAG Award Nominee for Best Ensemble (Frost/Nixon) Toby Jones (W., City of Ember) He'd be great. Yeah, he looks like Lassick, kinda, that's partly why. But also, I would keep Cheswick's actions from the novel. I think Jones would really sell that point.
DALE HARDING Who is He: My favorite character. A voluntary patient, the smartest of the bunch. He prides himself on being the intellectual, the leader of the Ward -- until McMurphy shows up. Harding gives McMurphy the skinny on the way things work at the hospital. He's married, but, you know, gay.
Originally played by: William Redfield (Fantastic Voyage, Death Wish)
My Choice: Richard Schiff (The Lost World: Jurassic Park, TV's The West Wing) It only makes sense that my favorite TV actor should play my favorite character from Cuckoo's Nest. Schiff has played the smart guy who thinks he's better than everyone else in the room. The latent-homosexual-in-a-mental-ward angle just makes it all the juicier. And worth his time.
DR. SPIVEY Who is He: The mild-mannered head of the ward, he seems to genuinely like McMurphy, and supports the idea of a fishing trip and a carnival and all that. He is easily dominated by Nurse Ratched, however, and often cows under pressure.
Originally played by: Dean R. Brooks, the actual head of the mental hospital where they filmed
My Choice: SAG Award Nominee for Best Ensemble (Milk) Denis O'Hare (Changeling, Charlie Wilson's War) He was the Nurse Ratched character in Changeling, so it would be nice to see him be nice. In fact, we've never really see him play a good guy, so this would be an all-around change. One that he could do quite well. He just looks so doctorly.
CANDY STARR Who is She: A hooker who's friends with McMurphy. She joins the patients on the fishing trip, and later shows up at their awesome party. Billy has a thing for her.
Originally played by: Marya Small (The Wild Party, Puppetmaster)
My Choice: SAG Award Nominee for Best Ensemble (Boogie Nights, Magnolia) Melora Walters (Ed Wood, Cold Mountain) Walters, interestingly enough, has done a number of sexually-charged roles. I think the fact that she is older than in the novel would add to the final sequence. For me, it's the idea of a newer, hotter mother figure. And I know how creepy that sounds, but I think it's rather important and meaningful.
TURKLE Who is He: The night orderly.
Originally played by: Scatman Crothers (The Shining, Lolita)
My Choice: Razzie Award Nominee for Worst Screenplay (Norbit) Charlie Murphy (Roll Bounce, The Perfect Holiday)
NURSE RATCHED Who is She: From Sparknotes: "The head of the hospital ward. Nurse Ratched, the novel's antagonist, is a middle-aged former army nurse. She rules her ward with an iron hand and masks her humanity and femininity behind a stiff, patronizing facade. She selects her staff for their submissiveness, and she weakens her patients through a psychologically manipulative program designed to destroy their self-esteem. Ratched's emasculating, mechanical ways slowly drain all traces of humanity from her patients."
Originally played by: Academy Award Winner for Best Actress (One Flew the Cuckoo's Nest) Louise Fletcher (Cruel Intentions, The Last Sin Eater)
My Choice: SAG Award Winner for Best Ensemble (American Beauty) Allison Janney (Hairspray, Juno) Janney is a great actress with some ice-blue eyes. Which, I think, is a necessary attribute when casting Nurse Ratched. Janney can be a very feminine, sexy woman, but like Nurse Ratched, she would be able to cover this up (see American Beauty). We rarely get to see her play the antagonist, unless it's farce, but Janney is one of the better actresses to ever exist, so I think she could do it.
RANDLE MCMURPHY Who is He: From Sparknotes: "The novel's protagonist. Randle McMurphy is a big, redheaded gambler, a con man, and a backroom boxer. His body is heavily scarred and tattooed, and he has a fresh scar across the bridge of his nose. He was sentenced to six months at a prison work farm, and when he was diagnosed as a psychopath—for “too much fighting and fucking”—he did not protest because he thought the hospital would be more comfortable than the work farm. McMurphy serves as the unlikely Christ figure in the novel—the dominant force challenging the establishment and the ultimate savior of the victimized patients."
Originally played by: Academy Award Winner for Best Actor (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, As Good As It Gets) and Best Supporting Actor (Terms of Endearment), BAFTA Award Winner for Best Actor (Chinatown/The Last Detail, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) and Best Supporting Actor (Reds), Golden Globe Winner for Best Actor in a Drama (Chinatown, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, About Schmidt), Best Actor in a Musical/Comedy (Prizzi's Honor, As Good As It Gets) and Best Supporting Actor (Terms of Endearment), Razzie Award Nominee for Worst Actor (Hoffa/Man Trouble), SAG Award Winner for Best Actor (As Good As It Gets), Hollmann Award Winner for Best Supporting Actor (The Departed) Jack Nicholson (The Raven, Batman)
My Choice: Academy Award Winner for Best Original Screenplay (Good Will Hunting), Golden Globe Winner for Best Screenplay (Good Will Hunting), SAG Award Nominee for Best Actor (Good Will Hunting) and Best Ensemble (Good Will Hunting, Saving Private Ryan, The Departed), WGA Award Nominee for Best Original Screenplay (Good Will Hunting) Matt Damon (Eurotrip, The Good Shepherd) Instinct. That is all.
