Casting Coup Month: The Sunshine Boys

NOMINATIONS

Best Actor - Walter Matthau

Best Supporting Actor - George Burns (WON)

Best Adapted Screenplay -  Neil Simon

Best Art Direction-Set Decoration - Albert Brenner/Marvin March

Neil Simon was having quite the 1975, wasn't he? First, there was Prisoner of Second Avenue, starring screen legend Jack Lemmon and shoulda-been-nominated Anne Bancroft. Then there was The Sunshine Boys, the adaptation of his hit play about former vaudeville partners reluctantly reunited for a TV special. Lemmon's usual partner in crime, Walter Matthau, took the lead -- Willy Clark, still stubbornly showing up for auditions even though he can't read the copy, remember his lines, or even find the damn studio.

Matthau was doing the usual Matthau thing, and it either works for you or it doesn't. It's an all right performance, but one gets the feeling that Matthau was going through a lazy period -- sleepwalking through The Front Page, hamming it up bizarrely in The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, and alternating between both modes here. Sure, he got the nomination, but the Academy has often overlooked fine performances in favor of a familiar face.

It's fine, though; everyone knows this isn't Matthau's show.

Men of Dishonor: Actor, 1975

The nominees for Best Actor are:

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.

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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

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

Now and Then: Art Direction, 1975

I know everyone has one or two categories that they especially adore, outside of Best Picture. Guy Lodge has an affinity for Original Screenplay, Nick Davis has seen every Best Actress nominee in history, and of course our dearly retired StinkyLulu loved the Supporting Actresses. Yet the category that I've never missed a nominee on is one that I could never discuss with any sort of authority, nor is it one where I could name all or even some of the nominees. I just know that I like it is all.

Yes, of course I'm talking about Art Direction, the Oscar category that gives me decorating tips. It can eschew historical accuracy (like the piano in The Hindenburg) in favor of a subtle statement, or recognize that in the historical accuracy is a subtle statement (as in Barry Lyndon). Every shop sign, piece of furniture or accoutrement has been created, considered and approved by the head of the art department. I won't try to discuss it any more than this (even in film school, we knew this was not my strong suit), but I know who to thank for a superlatively-executed set.

1975 is a unique year for this category, actually. Of course, the eventual champion is one of three period pieces nominated, but we also get two contemporary pieces in Shampoo and The Sunshine Boys. Sure, 1974 also featured contemporary-set nominees in Earthquake and The Towering Inferno, but those sets were the show. This year, the work is more subtle, and while I may not necessarily agree with all the nominations, such atypical recognition is commendable. Still, I can't help but wish one of these slots had gone to any of the three Ken Russell films eligible this year...

Anyway, the nominees for Best Art Direction:

BARRY LYNDON

Ken Adam/Roy Walker, art directors
Vernon Dixon, set decorator
*****

Period splendor, from the ostentatiously large paintings hanging over your head to the ornate bathtub sitting in the middle of the room. Yet despite these rich trappings, all the furniture and decor is spaced meticulously apart: no warmth or intimacy. There is much closer proximity in that cold dining room shared by the poorer Barrys of Ireland than in any manor.

THE HINDENBURG

Edward Carfagno, art director
Frank McKelvy, set decorator

****

Also period, this one a recreation of the titular doomed zeppelin. And there it all is: the map of the world, the windows, the staterooms. Fortunately, there is also much in the way of imagination: an intimidating metal labyrinth that provides the ship's skeletal framework, and a glittering piano that emphasizes the ostentatious pomp of the Nazi party. I also get a kick of Goebbels having a portrait of himself in his office.

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING

Alexander Trauner/Tony Inglis, art directors
Peter James, set decorator

****

From the train and Kipling's newspaper office, one gets a real feel for the tight squeeze necessary in British India, a nation of many ethnicities sharing the same space. But of course, we dare not forget the riches of Sikandergul, nor the small yet nebulous cities in Kafiristan. It's the memorable visual splendor of a top-notch adventure film.

SHAMPOO

Richard Sylbert/W. Stewart Campbell, art directors
George Gaines, set decorator

**

Whether it's the stuffy wood-paneling of a Nixon party, the colorful mixture of a hippie happening, or the sterile rigidity of an LA mansion, SoCal circa 1968 is subtly conveyed. Quiet work that nevertheless expresses some small details about its inhabitants.

THE SUNSHINE BOYS

Albert Brenner, art director
Marvin March, set decorator

***

The cluttered apartment of Willie Clark is filled with trash, memorabilia of his vaudeville days, and stacks of Variety. Willie clings to his past despite his growing inability to do the work, so of course he refuses to throw anything out. His past surrounds him always. And, of course, there's the set for the Doctor sketch.

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Oh, Oscar, every now and then (well, often enough) you get it right. Like the Academy, I give the little gold man to...

ADAM, WALKER & DIXON

for

BARRY LYNDON

for pure period pomposity

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.

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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!