Day Two: Original Screenplay, 1968

The idea of an Original Screenplay sounds straightforward enough - indeed, in 1968, the category's official name was Best Story and Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen (emphasis mine). Yet...

Do we discount 2001: A Space Odyssey because it is suggested by, and an expansion of, a number of Arthur C. Clarke stories from the 1950s? Is The Battle of Algiers any less original because the writers used Saadi Yacef's memoir Souvenirs de la Bataille d'Alger as a jumping-off point? What about Faces, scripted but with input and improvisations from the actors? And why no love for WGA Award nominees The Brotherhood, Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell, I Love You, Alice B. Toklas, or Star!?

Original, somewhat original, original enough...whatever the case, these are the nominees Oscar voters designated as The Best, after the jump.

2001: A Space Odyssey

Stanley Kubrick & Arthur C. Clarke
***

The Jupiter Mission is a suspenseful sequence - artificial intelligence, technology run amok. The sequence right before is intriguing enough with its businesslike approach to space discovery. Imaginative all around. I also have to admit I don't really get it.

The Battle of Algiers

Franco Solinas

story by Franco Solinas and Gillo Pontecorvo
****

Embeds us within both camps - the revolutionaries and the authorities - without fully becoming a "both sides" appeasement nor a whitewash of the devastating violence. It's thoroughly on the side of the freedom fighters, but oh, the cost! Intimacy without melodrama - clear-eyed, personal, passionate.

Faces

John Cassavetes
**

Love the idea of power dynamics between men and women, of the transactional nature of sex, of the ways we avoid meaningful and productive conversations in favor of sweet nothings. But every scene feels at least ten minutes too long - self-indulgent is the word.

Hot Millions

Ira Wallach and Peter Ustinov
**

Slight conman caper that feels both sketched and stretched. No pretensions about itself - it's here to make the adults have a chuckle, and at that it mostly succeeds. A fun time overall...but is it really nomination worthy?

The Producers

Mel Brooks
****

Not every joke has aged well, which can be expected when much of the humor is designed for shock value. Mostly still relevant, though, as it eviscerates every aspect of show business: the creatives who believe their own bullshit, the grifting businessmen, and the audiences who play at self-righteousness only to lap up digestible trash.

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Fun thing I always forget but is nice to remember: the Oscar went to (still-living!) comedy legend Mel Brooks! Actually makes the Don Rickles bit preceding the win kind of appropriate:

And honestly, my own vote goes to...

MEL BROOKS

for

THE PRODUCERS

Yes, I co-sign the Academy's choice!

Tomorrow, the nominees for Best Original Song - Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, For Love of Ivy, Funny Girl, Star!, and The Thomas Crown Affair - and the nominees for Best Musical Score - Finian's Rainbow, Funny Girl, Oliver!, Star!, and The Young Girls of Rochefort.

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Day One: Best Director, 1968

How does one judge Best Director separately from Best Picture? It's a question many awards watchers, obsessive and amateur alike, ask annually; it's especially relevant in a lineup like this one, where who wasn't nominated was just as much a talking point as who was.

I'm talking about Paul Newman, making his directorial debut with the Best Picture nominee Rachel, Rachel. Newman was up for the Directors Guild Award and won both the Golden Globe and the New York Film Critics Circle Award for Best Director. His absence was the shocker of nomination morning. Wife Joanne Woodward, herself a nominee in Best Actress for the same film, threatened to boycott the ceremony, but the good sport Newman convinced her otherwise.

Who did get in? Find out after the jump.

Book Club Time: Best Adapted Screenplay, 1971

Finding the common thread between the nominees of 2014 and those of 1971 will be a challenge indeed. The landscape of cinema and Oscar has changed so completely in those 40-plus years. Back then, all five nominees were based on novels, and two of them were foreign. This year, one nominee is based on a novel, three on bios, and one on a short film -- the latter especially stands out, since in 1971, such things just did not happen. 

Still, there are some similarities, if you choose to look for them. So allow me to suggest, a la Amazon, some companion watches/reads ... after the jump

The Helmsmen: Director, 1971

We've landed on Best Director! Gave a lot of thought to this one in my 1971-2014 linking. I mean, who do I compare to whom? Of the five men nominated in 1971, two already had Oscars, one was on his third nomination, one was a first-time filmmaker, and one had finally found a film that suited both himself and audiences. Of the five men (always men!) nominated in 2014, two are previous nominees, two are beloved auteurs finally embraced by the Academy, and one is Morten Tyldum.

But dammit, I found a way! I found the common threads!

THE RIFFER

He's not just honing his voice via literary adaptation; he's also riffing off the tone and style of a respected director whose voice and interests neatly align with his own. This could be Wes Anderson adapting Stefan Zweig via Ernst Lubitsch for the invented Europe of The Grand Budapest Hotel, or Peter Bogdanovich adapting Larry McMurtry via John Ford to capture a Western community for The Last Picture Show.

THE PERCEIVED HIRED GUN

Working in a genre that's catnip to Oscar voters and audiences only mission was not to fuck it up. Probably anybody could have done this. Yet he still manages to bring a personal touch, not getting in the way of the story, yet offering a strong piece of cinema with superb performances. Morten Tyldum offers us another World War II tale (with a gay twist!) in The Imitation Game; Norman Jewison offers us a musical epic in Fiddler on the Roof.

THE MEMOIRIST

He's got a personal stake in the material, having shaped aspects of it from his own life, but he doesn't let that cloud his judgment. The performances he coaxes from his actors delve deep -- you know them all too well. Richard Linklater reportedly riffed off aspects of his childhood for Boyhood; John Schlesinger was more than willing to own up to the autobiographical elements of Sunday Bloody Sunday. 

THE LANE CHANGER

Raised eyebrows when he took on the project, as it's not exactly his "box", so to speak; not so much his "thang". Yet this is the one that makes people look up, and even his former critics find themselves applauding. Alejandro G. Inarritu traded in his mopey human dramas for showbiz comedy in Birdman. William Friedkin, known for niche stage adaptations and zany comedies (weirdly), became a power player with his cop thriller The French Connection. 

THE BULLSHIT ARTIST

Carefully-composed shots and a very deliberate tone, with observations and revelations tailor-made to make people think a little more deeply about things, man. Problem is: this emperor has no clothes. An empty, dull, unfocused horror. Yet it's fooled everyone. Bennett Miller's Foxcatcher is a worse offender than Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, though. Even more agonizing: these guys are usually great!

A further look at the filmmakers of 1971, after the jump.

The Legends Giveth: Director, 1975

The nominees for Best Director are:

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.

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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.

Twice-Told Tales: Adapted Screenplay, 1975

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.

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No one was going to stop the juggernaut that was Cuckoo's Nest, but it's pretty obvious that I care for another screenplay more. The Oscar goes to....

HUSTON and HILL

for

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING 

Sikander would be proud

The 1964 Hollmann Awards: The Majors

Wow, what a long delay. I certainly hope that built the suspense some. The screenplays, the actors, song, director...and of course: BEST PICTURE. Let's delay this no longer:

The Man Behind the Curtain: Director, 1964

You've seen 'em in Adapted Screenplay, you'll see 'em in Best Picture, and you're seeing them right now. Between the enfant terrible, the old school, the foreigners and the Disney rep, Best Director had a real nifty lineup this year. Honestly the Dir/Pic nominees wouldn't be this interesting again until 1995, when the only matches were for -- of all things -- historical epic Braveheart, Italian rom-com The Postman, and talking-pig children's flick Babe. Weird years are cool. Of course, I kind of wish they'd had spread the wealth a little, but this is a pretty solid lineup, non?

Michael Cacoyannis for Zorba the Greek

***

I'm impressed with the long takes, the performances and the shot design. Working from his own, flawed script, Cacoyannis proves himself more adept as an auteur rather than author. Still don't think he handles those tone shifts comfortably, but maybe the character of Zorba's shifts make me uncomfortable. And surely if there was a way to inject life into Basil, it would be here?

George Cukor for My Fair Lady

****

If one were to judge by performances alone, Cukor does a bang-up job, everyone pitch-perfect and wonderfully memorable. It feels stagebound, though, and Cukor's direction does little to enliven the affair. When he's on, though -- Ascot, the ball, Doolittle's visit -- the material soars. Otherwise, it sometimes feels as though anyone could have done this, with much the same results.

Peter Glenville for Becket

***

It's so absurd that Becket is as visually impressive as it is. The shot design takes my breath away, the execution of the beach scene is phenomenal, the moments of humor are not at odds with the established tone. Glenville's done an impressive job. I don't think he keeps that momentum going near the end, though, beginning with a tone-deaf scene in Rome, then a too-long scene at Henry II's court that feels tedious and redundant. Worst of all, those finals blows in the cathedral just did not feel as effective as they should have. Somethings weird with the pacing here, almost as if Glenville and his editor got tired by that point. A shame, too, because that's the cap-off to an otherwise exquisite film.

Stanley Kubrick for Dr. Strangelove

*****

Seller's improv, George's story, the realism, the absurdity, the comedy -- all come together beautifully under the exacting hand of Stanley Kubrick. There's a unique tone that is at once hilarious and horrifying. The screenplay, as ever with Kubrick, is the blueprint, but the real magic happens when he's behind the camera and running the show.

Robert Stevenson for Mary Poppins

**** 

The kids aren't annoying and the parents aren't alienating. The sweetness of the title character isn't overbearing, and her sternness lives comfortably alongside it. The musical numbers are lively and exciting, showing off without being tedious. Do you realize a full hour goes by the time they leave the chalk drawing? I didn't until I glanced down at the running time. A man running a ship like this better have a good head for actors and pacing. Stevenson's got it.

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George Cukor finally won his Oscar for My Fair Lady. Of his competitors, only one was nominated again -- and never won. A shame, really, because not only should he have at least won once...but it should have been this year. I award the Oscar to...

STANLEY KUBRICK

for

DR. STRANGELOVE

he made people laugh at Fail-Safe

From One Author to Another: Adapted Screenplay, 1964

Let us begin our journey the way all movies begin: with a script. Let us, specifically, focus on the scripts inspired by other tales, taking as their inspiration novels, plays, musicals and children's books. The year 1964 was a year of consensus: not only were Best Picture and Best Director five for five, but Adapted Screenplay was drinking the Kool-Aid as well. All five of the Best Picture nominees were adapted, and all five found themselves up against each other in yet another category. From the dramatic to the comedic, the historic to the fantastic, here are your Best Adapted Screenplays of 1964:

Edward Anhalt for Becket, from the play by Jean Anouilh

****

It works so smoothly as cinema that it's hard to believe this was a play...in French! The action is opened up seamlessly, allowing for a great use of horses (horses!), coronations, discovery of dead bodies...you know, stuff that is probably only discussed on stage. It's wickedly funny, too.

Stanley Kubrick, Peter George and Terry Southern for Dr. Strangelove, from the novel Red Alert by George

****

Strangelove's strength is in taking a very serious book on a very serious subject and playing it for sardonic laughs. You're giggling at the absurdity of the American President and the Russian Premier discussing how little or often the other calls just to chat, and before you know it you realize that the world really does rest on the shoulders of people who are just as insecure and fallible as any of us. It tells a joke to tell the truth.

Bill Walsh and Don DaGradi for Mary Poppins, based on the books by P.L. Travers

*****

This could have been just a series of vignettes, but the creation of Bert, the emphasis on Mr. Banks, and the development of that moderation/balance theme make the story flow more naturally. They've done a swell job making Mary both stern and kind, Mr. Banks strict and loving, and Bert just the coolest guy on Earth. And it cannot be stressed enough how great it is that they wrote kids who act like kids.

Alan Jay Lerner for My Fair Lady, based on the musical by Lerner and Loewe and the play Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw

**

As much as I love the movie, I can't really award its screenplay in good conscience. It's the full libretto for the stage version, but instead of "ACT ONE - SCENE 3: HIGGINS' STUDY" we get "INT. HIGGINS' STUDY - DAY". Hardly a challenge. Give it a Tony, but not an Oscar.

Michael Cacoyannis for Zorba the Greek, based on the novel by Nikos Kazantzakis

***

Zorba has a lot of interesting things to say about life, love, humanity, war, sex, etc. The characters are strongly developed and consistent. There's some subtle work here -- look at the silent characters of the widow and her admirer's father. Good stuff, though I will ding it points when it comes to Basil. I don't get his romance with the widow or his laughter at Madame Hortense or his behavior at all. 

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Oscar gave Becket its only win in this category, and while that screenplay is certainly high-fiveable, there can be only one...

WALSH & DAGRADI

for

MARY POPPINS

a spoonful of talent helps the competition GO DOWN