Ida Is Love

This post is my contribution to this year's Supporting Actress Blog-a-thon, hosted by the gracious StinkyLulu. This year celebrates the Fifth Year of this always-anticipated tradition, and I just want to say thank you to Brian Herrera for coming back, even if it's just for one day, to keep the tradition alive.

When I first saw Maria Paiato in I Am Love, I knew she would be my contribution to the Supporting Actress Blog-a-thon. A second look reminded me why I fell in love with the role in the first place. And then I saw Malcolm's beautiful write-up over at My Last Oscar and thought, "Aw, shit." I knew I wouldn't be able to do it as well as Malcolm, he just put it all so beautifully, especially in his analysis of the finale. With video! Be sure to read that, too, or first.

And yet, when I look at my list of Best Supporting Actresses, this is the one I want to talk about. So, sorry for the redundancy, but a great performance is always worth mulling over.

From her first entrance, we know two things about Ida, head housekeeper to the Recchi family. First, we know that she likes the Russian-born wife of the Recchi heir, Emma (played with great subtlety and urgency by Tilda Swinton); we can tell by their easy way of talking, by the silent looks they give each other throughout. Second, we know that Ida knows everything that goes on in the house, better than anyone else in family; we can tell by the fact that she's the first to know about son Edoardo's new girlfriend, informing Emma so that they may arrange the seating for dinner. To her, this is natural. She is the perfect servant, it is her job to know everything...even the things she doesn't know.

When Emma returns from her first rendezvous with Edoardo's friend, Ida is the only one in the house. She goes about her chores, ironing sheets, when Emma looks up and invites her to dinner. I love Paiato's face here.

 
She's obviously caught off guard, but I think it's the same gob-smacked expression of flattery, and when Emma explains that it's because there's no one else home, her self-deprecating laugh and refusal breaks my heart. Of course that's why. She's just lonely. Ida returns to her maid face, but looks up again at the distracted Emma. Ida knows something is up,but there's also a trace of sadness there. I feel like she's wishing she hadn't refused, but it's too late to say anything now, and besides, that's just not the way things are done.

Her next big scene is comforting a sobbing Edoardo. Disillusioned with the way his father and business partners run the family company, Edo returns home to seek solace in his mother's arms; instead, he finds Ida, sits with her, and breaks down. I assume he did this before when he was a child, and surely Ida's been with them that long. You can see it by the way Paiato looks at him, with the affection and familiarity of a mother, but with the distance of an employee. And again, the surprise of his tears, followed by her having to mother him.

Paiato's mostly silent here, but her face and body language register everything. It's a nice contrast to the later hospital scene, when Betta finally arrives. She is the first to get up and rush to the girl's side, stopping just short of a comforting embrace. Instead, she stands aside when grandmother Rori and brother Gianluca rise to take on that responsibility. Ida just watches, and you can see that she wants to reach out, just as she was able to comfort Edo.

This is usually when most fans would talk about that big finale. I shan't, though, because there's something else I want to focus on. There's a scene where Emma is dreaming, and she hears a voice calling her by her Russian name, than a voice saying, "Emma. Emma." In her POV, it's at first a little girl...then, suddenly, Ida, waking her up like a mother would a daughter.

Cut to: reality. Ida walks in after this dream, calls Emma "signora", and wakes her up for real. It's a brief scene, mostly a wide, but it's important because of how Ida's character is presented to us. Emma, let us remember, was a Russian who the Italian Tancredi Recchi fell in love with and married, bringing her home; she has never returned to Russia, but she is still an outsider. Long before she begins an affair with the chef, she seems detached from things, though she does love her children. In various scenes, though, we see the affection between her and another outsider, the housekeeper. For her to dream of her servant calling her by her given names, a maternal figure, is significant. It establishes Ida as not just an employee, but the rock of this family. Edo goes to her, Betta almost goes to her, and now Emma wishes she could go to her; Ida, too, wishes there was something more she could do for Emma.

Paiato sells it. She is watchful, but not sneaky; loyal, but longing for more. Her face, her body language, everything tells us about this efficient, warm woman who has dedicated her life to taking care of people who see her as a servant. It's what makes this scene so resonant, the fact that Emma sees her as much more, and it makes that Big Finale all the more wrenching. Paiato's Ida is the very definition of a supporting turn, a true "actress at the edges", as StinkyLulu would say. In her subtle and beautiful performance, she gives us a complex portrait of a devoted housekeeper and friend. Remember Viola Davis in Far From Heaven, Frances E. Williams in The Reckless Moment, and Helen Mirren in Gosford Park? Well then you should remember Maria Paiato in I Am Love. She joins the Pantheon of Cinematic Servitude.

Crazy Hearts in the Air for Precious Performances! Nine!

It is with great honor that I direct you to this Sunday's edition of StinkyLulu's Supporting Actress Smackdown. Looking at this year's batch of Oscar nominees, the result is kind of...inevitable. You'll see it on there, of course, but for me, it was no contest. Thanks, of course, to StinkyLulu for once again graciously inviting me to take part in this most exciting of Smackdowns.

I wanted to see how my ratings for now compared to my initial reactions.

My lowest score, one heart, went to Maggie Gyllenhaal. As I wrote:
Maggie Gyllenhaal is fine, playing a vulnerable young woman who always seems to be attracted to the wrong guy. She does not want to love Bridges, but she falls for him, and takes the risk. Sometimes, though, she looks like she wishes she could do more. It doesn't help that the editing, or maybe the screenplay itself, seems to cut most developments, including what attracts her to Bad Blake.

Two hearts to Anna Kendrick, whose nomination still flummoxes me. When I first saw her movie:
Kendrick has certain moments where she shines, reminding me why I like her in Rocket Science and tolerate her in the Twilight movies. But her Natalie Keener is shrill, whiny, and cliched. Some of her dialogue, God help me, sounds like lines written for the middle daughter in Dan in Real Life. As for that breakdown scene midway through the film? Yikes. Talk about overplaying the comedy. She is the least consistent out of all the actors, and there seems to be no throughline for her character. It's all moments. While I didn't hate her, and while I definitely (DEFINITELY) still love the movie, Kendrick's Natalie gets a shake of the head from me.

Penelope Cruz, upon reflection, got three hearts. As I said in my review of her film:
Penelope Cruz is, naturally, sexy and funny, and also surprisingly vulnerable as the mistress. "Call from the Vatican" is a hot number as it is, but Cruz just sizzles. Bring the vapors.

I gave four hearts to Vera Farmiga. My initial reaction:
Vera Farmiga is smart, sexy and confident as Alex, who describes herself to Ryan Bingham as "you, but with a vagina." You love her. You must. I certainly fell for her, and so of course I'm rooting for the coupling all throughout. There are sweet moments between her and Clooney that are charmingly understated. Farmiga gives one of the most relatable, believable performances of the year.

Of course, in lock-step with the Globes, Critics and SAG, my five hearts were awarded to Mo'Nique:
Mo'Nique is her mother Mary. Ho. Ly. Crap.... Mo'Nique...is the mom from Hell. I had chills. Her first monologue, raw and abusive, dropped my jaw. Her final monologue gave me goosebumps. Mark these two on your ballots, people; they're in.

I think my opinion of Gyllenhaal lowers the more I reflect on the movie, whereas after a second viewing, Mo'Nique just gets better and better. Please also note: this is the first time I've ran th whole gamut of hearts. An interesting year, this.

But why read all that when you can just see what the Smackdowners have to say?

Kristin Scott Thomas, "Easy Virtue"

This post is a proud member of StinkyLulu's Fourth Annual Supporting Actress Blog-a-Thon. Check it out for more interesting perspectives on this year's crop of "actresses at the edges."

The week before Public Enemies, my friend and I caught a showing of Easy Virtue. It wasn’t on any of our radars until we saw that it was playing at the local art house. We did our research, found out it was Colin Firth and Noel Coward, watched the trailer, and knew we had to see it. So we did, expecting a pleasant diversion, nothing more. But as I have stated before, the movie affected us greatly, to the point that we both considered it the best film we had seen that year up until then (it was June, but hey, we were halfway through). Seven months later, I’ve fallen in love with a few others, but Easy Virtue has stayed at the tippy top. And part of that are the amazing performances given by the ensemble. Of especial note is Colin Firth, whose performance here is so good, he should be a double-nominee this year. But he’s not a Supporting Actress, so we must go to his equal, his sparring partner, the woman that I think of whenever my thoughts turn to Easy Virtue: Kristin Scott Thomas.

Let us join the Whittaker clan. They are, to quote a beloved film, “silly English types”, snobs living on a large estate in the country. The only son, John (Ben Barnes), arrives home from the Continent with a bride. And not only is Larita a lady race car driver, not only is she American, but she is the beautiful and sexually-charged Jessica Biel. She doesn’t get England! She’s allergic to the plant-life, she has a shadowy past, she refuses to go fox-hunting, she insists on celebrating Thanksgiving, she encourages the daughters to read “sexy books” and dance the Can-Can, and so on. Kristin (do you mind the familiar, dear? I hope not) plays the matriarch of this family, and she disapproves. Indeed, she is the chief antagonist in this delightful ditty of a movie.

Now, it would be very easy for Kristin to be the humorless snob. Thankfully – and, admittedly, due in part to the wonderful screenplay by Stephan Elliott and Sheridan Jobbins – Kristin does not do this. Certainly, she gives Larita an icy reception, keeping a strained, polite smile on the entire time – and this itself could be enough, for Kristin perfectly delivers her lines with honey-coated razorblades. But that’s not enough. For Kristin shows us the doting mother, the disappointed wife, the lioness protecting her pride. It’s funny, but a little heartbreaking.

There are three great scenes, two of which happen to be on YouTube thanks to MrsJohnWhittaker. In these three, we understand why Kristin is so determined to get Larita out of there.

In the above clip, we can totally get Kristin’s whole reasoning against Larita. The girl has these plans that seem practical to her, common sense even, but Kristin is there to bring her back to Earth. With a condescending manner, she points out the flaws in Larita’s life plan for her and John: they can’t move to the city, he is pure country. He’d never work the way Londoners work; it’s just not him. Kristin understands her son better than Larita would, theirs being a whirlwind romance. And so it is only natural that she tries to push this strange woman away, this American who has the gall to tell her what’s what in her own home, this person who insists on trying to understand a life she never will. The folly of this marriage is clear to Kristin, for Larita does not know her son. Wouldn’t any mother try to protect her boy from a previously married racecar driver with no means, who would force her husband into a life that’s not fit for him? Kristin’s skeptical tone is also one of slight panic: “John's brought up in the country, Larita, what would he do?” is significant. She’s not just badgering this girl, she’s concerned for her son’s well-being.

Another scene, unfortunately not available, is a conversation between mother and son. He bullies her about getting to know Larita and him leaving, when she finally loses patience and confesses it: they’re going to lose everything. The farm, the estate, all of it. While before we can only think of her as a humorless bitch, in this scene we understand her struggles. Her husband may be amusing to us, but he has done nothing to help their situation, all while her son lives in this fantasy world with Larita. “Stop being so naïve!” she cries to him, and you can hear her holding back the frustrated tears. She even plans on selling some acreage to a neighbor, and it pains her. The irony, of course, is that while she disapproves of Larita’s racing and smoking and other more “male” habits, Mrs. Whittaker is essentially the man of the house. No one else will take up the task, so it is up to her to save the family name. The woman has some pride, and even Larita admits what a strong and courageous woman she is to shoulder these burdens without complaint. Kristin is superb.

Later, as seen above, Larita offers to help Kristin financially. And this is a slap in the face. She won’t be grateful, and this won’t be a bridge of understanding. This interloper now knows her private shame, and sees Mrs. Whittaker as vulnerable. Larita is half the reason for the trouble, since she’s taking away the only real man left in the family. And that casual move to the snooker table as she shows what an able woman she is! She outplays the boys and proves to Larita that she can handle it herself. She’s done well this long; why shouldn’t she for longer?

Oh, also the tango scene. There they are together: the husband who hates her and the woman who is destroying her. That simple delivery: “No, I don’t.” She has finally given up, and she’s just realized this moment that it has been over for a long time. In a way, she even looks relieved. Though insulted in front of her friends and the rest of High Society, she knows there is no going back for any of them. She is finally free of these two weights that dragged her down.

Yes, Mrs. Whittaker is a dominating mother, overprotective and suffocating. She’s a snob. But she is also the only one in her family who gives a damn, and she’s going to do everything in her power to keep them together. While her methods can sometime she deplorable, while she may be ignorant, she is still terribly human. Kristin Scott Thomas imbues her with such relatable characteristics that we can only fear and respect her all at once.

Smackdown Sunday!

If you haven't already, check out StinkyLulu's Supporting Actress Smackdown of 1993, in which the hostess and I disagree on Winona Ryder and Rosie Perez, I defend my subjectivity, and an all-around good time is had by all.

These are all always fun to read and reflect upon, and I often find myself reading years in which I've seen none of the films, just to savor the brilliance of the writing. It's a pretty solid panel, and I think the range of hearts (I rated four where many did not) shows what an interesting year it was for the category -- though, as Alex in Movieland points out, not a particularly strong one.

So...did my beloved Winona Ryder win? Did Piano fans re-reward Anna Paquin? Or was it a surprise attack from under-used Holly Hunter? Seriously, don't keep reading this. Go over to StinkyLulu's RIGHT NOW.

Supporting Actress Smackdown '93: The Age of Innocence

This Sunday, I am taking part for a third time in the Supporting Actress Smackdown hosted by StinkyLulu. Five movies will be screened, with the Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances reviewed and rated. The year is 1993.

THE AGE OF INNOCENCE



I always think I'm going to love this movie. After all, all the ingredients are there: actors I love, a director I respect and admire, a period piece romance. Hell, even though I've not read the source novel, it was written by the author of Ethan Frome, one my favorite books ever. How could this go wrong?

Alas, the trouble here is the trouble with Martin Scorsese's other New York period drama, Gangs of New York. So much is spent on the visuals, the production values, the costumerie, the insistence on epic scope, that in the end, it is too in love with what it's critiquing to satirize it properly. Ah, yes, the intentions are noble, bringing the novel to life while still maintaining the lush language within. But at what cost? Is it so necessary to have a narrator read passages from the book when all it does is distract? If it is to provide context or commentary, then I'm sorry, but you have failed as a filmmaker. If you cannot illustrate your thesis without Joanne Woodward's gently ironic voice describing a fucking ballroom, back to the drawing-board.

The film is also a victim of tedium. At two hours and nineteen minutes, it feels like a three-hour epic. It. Just. Drags. On. And no one is doing anything interesting. Daniel Day-Lewis, whose praises I just sang in the previous post, bores me here, and feels miscast. Michelle Pfeiffer seems distant, so that I don't really "get" the love story. And they're trying, certainly, but they just aren't doing it for me.

Have I mentioned before how much I want to strangle Thelma Schoonmaker with the film negative? She is so rarely satisfying. Here, she dissolves and dissolves and dissolves, and I don't know to what end or for what purpose. I just see a bunch of transitions that do little more than showcase the production values. I really don't need this AND Joanne Woodward to get a sense of the materialism of these people, of this time, of this place. I'm not an idiot. Idiots don't see movies like The Age of Innocence, so why worry about them?

Well, as you can probably guess by my declaring Amy Adams the Best Supporting Actress of 2008, I have a soft spot for incredible actressing in films that just miss the mark (Fortunately, when Doubt misses the mark, it becomes high camp and therefore a must-buy). And so the twice I have seen The Age of Innocence, I am consistently blown away by one of the few actors in the film not horrifyingly miscast.



Winona Ryder may have been my first celebrity crush, but I assure you that this does not bias me in the least. I mean hey, I'm not exactly prepared to heap acting honors on Jennifer Love Hewitt, and I am determined to hit that. The truth is, Winona Ryder is...perfect. In this movie, I mean. As Newland Archer's fiancee/wife, May Welland, she is at risk of suffering from Melanie Hamilton syndrome: too sweet and charming and kind to not throttle violently. Ryder avoids this deftly by giving us an intelligent young woman who plays the game of Society better than anyone in the room, taking advantage of the "pretty little head" stereotype to work through her difficulties with Newland.

And when I say "work through", I mean she is clever in her manipulations. Always playing the innocent, May uses Newland's untainted image of her to get him to remain faithful to her.

There is a scene where Newland springs a trip to Washington on May. He gives this excuse about patent papers, and she waves it away, declaring it to be too complicated for her. Then she suggests that, while in town, he drop in on her cousin, the woman he happens to secretly desire. And for the first time, she looks at him, and smiles innocently - but not with her eyes. It is a challenge, masterfully played, a look that says, "I know. And I trust you. Can you handle that?" Solid work.



I miss Winona. Someone needs to get her into another Oscar picture soon. I mean, not a conscious awards target like The Age of Idiots, but...you know...something. Star Trek was a step in the right direction. Maybe Woody Allen could use her again. Or Quentin Tarantino. I'm just spit-balling.

The gist is, Winona Ryder is probably the best thing about the movie, followed by Miriam Margolyes, then the costumes. She is sweet and manipulative, but not in a cruel way. The fact that May knows the whole time and says nothing...that's love, baby. And with Winona, we believe every second of it.

The Film: **
The Supporting Actress: *****

Supporting Actress Smackdown '93: In the Name of the Father

This Sunday, I am taking part for a third time in the Supporting Actress Smackdown hosted by StinkyLulu. Five movies will be screened, with the Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances reviewed and rated. The year is 1993.

IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER



After a second viewing, I'll stick with my first impression: although a little long, it's a great movie. I am not resistant to the incredible force that is Daniel Day-Lewis, who plays wrongly accused prisoner Gerry Conlon with violent emotion. It's a great role that Day-Lewis sinks his teeth into, sometimes irritating, sometimes heroic. He's great at characters that are both frustrating and sympathetic. Hell, if he can make me love the amoral villains of There Will Be Blood and Gangs of New York, his work as Gerry Conlon seems almost child's play. But please, don't be fooled into thinking it is. It's goose-pimply.

If there is a flaw with the film, honestly, it's in its portrayal of the prison. We are told that Gerry and his father Guiseppe (Pete Postlethwaite, channeling everyone's father brilliantly) are with "the worst of the worst", yet except for a sadistic yet charming IRA leader, everyone seems pretty chill, throwing snowballs and listening to Bob Marley. I'm always concerned when films portray prisoners as no more menacing than the school bully that you wound up befriending come high school. It sends the wrong message, and while I know that this a story of a corrupt legal system...come on. Not everyone in that prison is an innocent man.

Truth be told, I think I might have liked this movie more if it focused on the trial more than the prison aspect. In both trial sequences, I found myself more interested and invested than anywhere else in the film. I guess that's just personal preference as far as genre goes.



The supporting actress here is Emma Thompson, fresh off her Best Actress win for Howard End. Thompson is given a character who could very well be a cipher. She's the lawyer working with Guiseppe for an appeal, who must convince the angry Gerry to have faith and cooperate, and who, of course, gives a rousing speech in the climactic courtroom scene. Such a role is fairly easy to fuck up, as it could easily become too preachy or too motherly or too lawyer-y.

Thompson, instead, goes with bad-ass. She can keep her cool, but when her emotions get her, they go whole hog. Oh, but she's not prone to outbursts. No, no, Thompson, as Gareth Peirce, plays it cool with the big boys, rarely letting her guard down. Consider her first scene with Gerry, where she sits coolly, allowing him to finish his "hardened prisoner" routine. Awesome, awesome stuff. And I love how there is no "build" to her yelling in court, but an outburst of disgust and incredulity.

She may have the least amount of screen time of the three leads, but there is so much Thompson has to pack into her character, and she does it. The actress is always a treat to watch, and it is no different here than in Love Actually. Great work, as always.

The Film: ***
The Supporting Actress: ****

Supporting Actress Smackdown '93: The Firm

This Sunday, I am taking part for a third time in the Supporting Actress Smackdown hosted by StinkyLulu. Five movies will be screened, with the Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances reviewed and rated. The year is 1993.

THE FIRM



It's hard to take this movie completely seriously after seeing The Informant!. Tom Cruise plays a young lawyer who joins a firm with a dark secret...one they are willing to kill for! It's one of those movies where you know the DVD summary has exclamation points after every sentence. Because it's a THRILLER full of SUSPENSE and ACTION!

Well, hell! I had fun! What I've learned from watching John Grisham movies (because I've never read his books) is that they operate on the ridiculous, on high fives and America and sexy lawyers! And I can totally roll with that. Besides, my girlfriend's future brother-in-law is in law school and looks like Tom Cruise, so I feel like I'm not supporting him if I don't give the film my approval.

I mean, come on. Gene Hackman and Hal Holbrook and Wilford Brimley are there to give the class act. Tom Cruise and David Strathairn arrive for sex appeal. Gary Busey is terrifying. And, of course, we have our strong, brilliant women: Jeanne Tripplehorn, who, playing Cruise's wife, has to recite aggressively heavy-handed lines imaginable; and Oscar-nominated Holly Hunter.



Holly Hunter has a teeny tiny role as the Tennessee gal who helps Cruise's character out with taking down the Firm. The role itself isn't much, but she's a hoot. With her hot-pink press-ons, rainbow of wigs, and DSL, Hunter is as sexy as she is great to watch. And yeah, her proclivity for oral sex saves her life, and sure, her outfits are all about titties, titties, titties (and legs, too), but she's so much more than just the dumb sexy girl. For one thing, the character helps bring down a group of powerful, wealthy men, and it's to Hunter's credit that we never doubt her street smarts. From early on, she lets on that she's got as much brains as she does boobs. Let's not forget: she approaches Cruise, and her terrified determination to see justice done is fascinating: shaky hands, set jaw. Hell yeah.

I can't explain it, I'm sorry. I see Fearless, I think "OK". I see The Piano, I think "OK". I see delightful trash like The Firm, I think "YES"! That's the way I roll. As Julia Child says, "Never apologize."

The Film: ***
The Supporting Actress: ****

Supporting Actress Smackdown '93: The Piano

This Sunday, I am taking part for a third time in the Supporting Actress Smackdown hosted by StinkyLulu. Five movies will be screened, with the Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances reviewed and rated. The year is 1993.

THE PIANO



I don't know what to say about The Piano. It was beautiful and unlike anything I'd ever seen, I know that much. I know this was some of the best acting I've seen in a film. I also know, however, that I probably was not in thr right frame of mind when watching it. I was on a Bright Star high, and it was folly of me to approach a new Campion so immediately.

I think what I find so bizarre is the relationship between George (Harvey Keitel) and Ada (Holly Hunter). It's supposed to be a love story, isn't it? And yet I see what George does as manipulative and disgusting. Oh, yes, it's very neat to open the mute woman to carnal pleasures...but presumably she would already know what that's like, right? She has a daughter, after all. Is it George's approach? I don't understand what I'm supposed to be feeling, because I feel like "sketchy" isn't what Campion was going for.



Anna Paquin won the Oscar for her performance in this film. She is quite good, certainly. It is nice to see a mostly unmannered performance from a young girl. Paquin takes the girl from devoted child to Judas, and it is believably played. Because the girl is jealous of George, right? Or is it that she's just a mischievous, devilish child? Paquin plays her as the kind of girl who starts things out of boredom, cunning and well aware of what kind of damage she'll be doing. Perhaps my problem is with the script: I just don't believe she would betray her mother the way she does. Certainly it would help if they built on the relationship between her and her stepfather...but alas, no.

Damn, I think I'm going to have to see this movie again. There's a lot I really didn't understand, and I don't know if it's my memory or if Jane Campion just didn't provide simple answers. And that's cool to keep things complicated and ambiguous, but I also don't like feeling like things happen just for the sake of happening. I know a lot of people love the film, but I don't understand the attraction between George and Ada, I don't understand why the daughter can be so evil; the only person I can really relate to and understand is Sam Neill as Ada's husband. So...at least Campion didn't turn the role into the stock Jealous, Controlling Husband.

Man, I wanted to like this more.

The Film: ***
The Supporting Actress: ***

Supporting Actress Smackdown '93: Fearless

This Sunday, I am taking part for a third time in the Supporting Actress Smackdown hosted by StinkyLulu. Five movies will be screened, with the Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances reviewed and rated. The year is 1993.

FEARLESS



So, Max Klein (Jeff Bridges) survives a plane crash and suddenly fears nothing. Having saved twenty fellow passengers, he is looked at as somewhat of a hero. And, indeed, he himself appears to be convinced of his own divinity, especially since he is the only one who can reach out to grieving mother Carla Rodrigo (Rosie Perez). Despite all the good he does other people, however, Max also alienates himself from his family, makes reckless decisions, and generally freaks a lot of people the hell out.

As a whole, I like the movie. It's almost two hours, which I felt was a little long, but Bridges carries the movie throughout. I mean, when he's onscreen. The problem: you get so caught up in his character, whole scenes without him become jarring. This was especially a problem in a scene wherein a PTSD specialist (John Turturro) has a session with the survivors of the plane crash. I understand the need to build on where Perez's character is mentally and emotionally, but the scene goes on for a long time and just feels out of place. To me, anyway.

There are weird elements like that scene throughout Fearless. I want a movie about how Bridges is effected by the crash, about the relationship between him and his wife (Isabella Rossellini), about him and Perez reaching out to each other. I get that most of the time, fortunately. But there is also a caricature of a lawyer, expertly played by Tom Hulce, but an awkward fit for the movie. Benicio Del Toro (young, mustachioed Benicio Del Toro) plays Perez's husband, who uses the death of his baby son as a way to get more money out of the insurance company. And I understand these people exist in real life, but they really felt too simple for a movie like this. Really, Fearless is too good a film to offer underdeveloped characters.



Then there's Rosie Perez as Carla. It's not that Perez is bad in this. She's not even just okay. She's really quite good here, and I generally like her to begin with. But there's something missing. She goes from grieving mother to Max Klein's best friend. There is a weird moment of tenderness between them that she rebukes, and there is a moment where she breaks down in his car about her baby. There's also a sequence where she plays with him in a toy store.

The difficulty with judging a performance like this is that I've never been through anything traumatic, nor do I have much experience with people who have, so maybe it's just my ignorance saying this. But here it goes: it isn't organic. Perez and director Peter Weir have not found that logical arc that brings Carla from Point A to Point B. Perez gets each scene individually, but as a whole, I don't feel Carla Rodrigo consistently enough.

Who should've gotten the nom? Isabella Rossellini as worried wifey Laura. Typical character for the category, sure, but I could not take my eyes off her whenever she was in the room.

The Film: ***
The Supporting Actress: **

1983 SMACKDOWN!

I have taken part, for a second time, in StinkyLulu's Supporting Actress Smackdown. The year is 1983, and Heavens to Betsy there's much to love here. The chick from SilverScreener fave Carrie, Cruella De Ville, the woman who made me believe in life after love, a tiny woman, and Alfre Woodard. Kick-ass.

I'll tell you what, I am a big fan of the performances by Cher (Silkwood) and Linda Hunt (The Year of Living Dangerously). I am not a big fan of Amy Irving in Yentl.

Head on over to StinkyLulu and check out what went down.

I have to say, if there's one thing I've learned from this experience, it's this: 1983 kind of blows. True, Linda Hunt got the Oscar she so richly deserved, and Silkwood's cool, but overall? Cross Creek is dull, Yentl is a joke, and though I freeking love The Big Chill, why was Glenn Close that film's sole nominee? Especially when Meg Tilly, Mary Kay Place, Tom Berenger, and (emphasis on him) William Hurt gave such amazing performances? What a bizarre year.

The SMACKDOWN Arriveth

I still don’t know if I should have given Shelley Winters the edge over Juanita Moore. Maybe it would have been more honest to keep them at a tie. But if I did, does that give Juanita five stars or Shelley four?

I had a lot of fun doing this first smackdown. Two limited roles, two Mommas, two sets of great gams, two ladies from Imitation of Life. They liked having it a certain way, I guess. And it’s hard for me to believe these came out at the same time as Ben-Hur. I mean, Pillow Talk? Competing at the Oscars? With Ben-Hur? So strange.

Now, if this whole category was a Casting Coup, subject….


Fran Drescher as Petronella Van Daan
She actually does quite well in drama. Her voice and mannerisms would help with the annoying aspects of the performance. She is also still attractive, so that we can hear remembering the boys and know what she’s talking about.


Loretta Devine as Annie Johnson
I love Loretta. There is a sweetness to her that I think few other actresses of her caliber have. She can play the good-natured Annie good-naturedly, but you bet that she would also pack a wallop in that final scene with Sarah Jane.


Sarah Parish as Elspeth
She can sing, she can do cockney, she can play subtle drama. And it would be a hell of a cameo.


Lily Tomlin as Alma
can certainly toss out a line like nobody’s business, and there is this harder edge to her that would serve the character well. But I also think she would remember to keep it interesting and within the screwball comedy dynamic.

??? as Sarah Jane Johnson
I ain’t even touching that one.

For more awesomeness, trip on over to StinkyLulu's blog.

The Diary of Anne Frank

There are some movies that are better suited to a more intimate setting. A movie theater, say, or a living room with your girlfriend and/or best friends. A viewing station in the middle of the library is probably not the best choice -- at all -- but beggars can't be choosers, and they wouldn't let me check it out. Suffice to say, I found myself trying to avoid public hysterics while working through the emotional impact of The Diary of Anne Frank.



I trust we are all familiar with her story. Anne Frank was a girl in 1940s Holland who, being Jewish, hid away with her family in an attic. Having received a diary at the age of thirteen, she chronicled life in the hiding place for the two years she, her parents, her sister, a family of three, and a dentist stayed there. It was adapted for the stage and, eventually, the screen.

So, I know this is going to sound odd, but I was kind of reminded of Night of the Living Dead. A claustrophobic setting, a handful of refugees, uncertainty of the outside world. I know, I know -- this is fact, Night of the Living Dead was fiction, but still, it was interesting to see how in both cases, the inhabitants still get into major quarrels over the silliest of things. Or how fierce an unassuming mother can become. Or how young people still find time for romance. Or how, no matter how horrifying the situation, people can still cling to hope.

The film is quite tastefully done, never sensationalizing the story, shying away from melodrama. Millie Perkins has the title role; I've seen people play Anne Frank as a kind of contemporary Joan of Arc, but Perkins, fortunately, remembers that Anne was thirteen, and fills the character with the precociousness and confusion and "wisdom" of that age. Mind, she was about twenty during filming, so that she was able to take the role so seriously as to not take it seriously is quite an achievement (I find actors of that age group tend to "ACT" rather than play it as it lays).



She also happens to be incredibly beautiful.

I think I like the last bit the most. Anne and her beau Peter Van Daan (Richard Beymer, who afterwards met a girl named Maria) are upstairs, and she has just delivered the famous line about people being good at heart, when we hear the sirens getting louder and the Nazis busting in. And without hesitation, she and Peter kiss passionately for what they know will be the last time. God. I must have looked a mess.



It was for this movie that Shelley Winters won her first Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. And I gotta tell you here and now, I love Shelley Winters. I had a mild crush on her when I saw The Night of the Hunter at the age of ten (or thereabouts). I own Alfie and Lolita. I saw The Poseidon Adventure in sixth grade just for her (well, OK, for Grandpa Joe, too). The Winters and I, we're palsies.

Which means I'm fully aware that she is a "shrill" actress. The woman is loud and brassy. She is typecast in the role of the whiny woman, the demanding mother that no one can stand. Watching her in Alfie is just bizarre, of course, but every time I see her on screen, I always think of her at breakfast with Sue Lyons ("Keep your table off the, ugh, ELBOWS OFF THE TABLE!") And truly, Petronella Van Daan could easily be another one of these. There are times when it seems she is about to do the Shelley Winters thing, going big when she needs to go small.

Which also means that, despite my love for The Winters, I often underestimate her.



There is a scene at the beginning where she talks to Anne about boys. Anne asks her if she had a lot of boyfriends growing up, and although Mrs. Frank (Gusti Huber giving the Greatest Performance of a Mother Ever) admonishes her, Petronella replies, "No, I don't mind." AND SHE DOESN'T. By which I mean, Winters' eyes light up at the question, and she goes into details of her youth, and you can see her actually going there. Her nostalgia is both charming and sad, tinged the realization that she is not the woman she used to be. And as she shows off her great legs, there is a cry of desperation for a compliment, a glance even, anything! That Winters can combine both humor and sadness in one scene is miraculous, and so subtly done, too.

Petronella's mink coat gives us two great scenes. One is where Petronella lets Anne try it on, gushing about how it was a gift from her father. It is clearly the most precious thing the Van Daans own, and Winters glows with pride. When Anne spills milk on it, SNAP goes Petronella, and Lord have mercy, I had no idea anyone could that fast. And instead of playing it angry or bitchy, you can actually hear Winters' Petronella choking back tears as she runs foggily upstairs.



Later on, her husband (Lou Jacobi) goes to take the coat to sell, and Petronella tries to fight him for it. She loses, and sinks on the bed in defeat. Bam. That's it. That one shot of The Winters sitting with her head bowed is enough. Throughout the film, we see the woman go through all sorts of humiliating moments, but for me, this is the one that sticks out. The love of her father and her own pride were both wrapped up in that stole, and in many ways, it was the only thing she had left of either. When it goes, so, too, does much of her hope. She even looks smaller.

I love the little moments like that. I love when Anne comes back from Peter's room, having received her first Real Kiss. She kisses everyone in the living room good night as she floats to her bedroom, pausing even to kiss Petronella, Peter's mum, on both cheeks. And in reply, Mrs. Van Daan gives a little smirk: "Uh-huh." And that's all anyone says or needs to say. Winters' delivery of that line is so incredibly perfect.



Really, in moments like that one, or in talking about the boys, she reminded me of my roommate's mother, who is like my other mother (but not the Coraline kind). And I feel that if you can watch a performance and say, "Holy crap, that is SO whats'ername" then the actor has done their job. They have given you a real human being. So, Shelley Winters, here's to you.

THE MOVIE: **** (out of 4)
THE PERFORMANCE: ***** (out of 5)

Imitation of Life (1959)

Douglas Sirk recently came into my life thanks to one of my film classes. We spent one week watching All That Heaven Allows, starring Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman, and Far from Heaven, an homage starring Julianne Moore and Dennis Quaid. While I adored Far from Heaven, I just couldn't see the appeal of All That Heaven Allows. I certainly didn't think Sirk was anything more than a director of soap operas, one who later clung to the revisionist appreciation fellow Germans like Fassbinder fastened onto him. I love a woman's weepie as much as the next person (assuming the next person effing LOVES women's weepies), but I don't believe in giving someone auteur status without earning it.

As luck would have it, when I volunteered to take part in StinklyLulu's Supporting Actress Smackdown for 1959, not one, but TWO of the actresses nominated came from Douglas Sirk's last Hollywood film: Imitation of Life, a remake of a 1934 flick with Claudette Colbert, which itself was nominated for three Oscars, including Best Picture. This version is a Technicolor dazzler, with Lana Turner as a widow struggling to make ends meet, Juanita Moore as the woman who comes to be her maid and best friend, and Sandra Dee and Susan Kohner as their respective daughters.



Imitation of Life is an interesting film, bursting at the seams with PLOT! and DRAMA! Lana wants to be an actress, but her agent MAKES A PASS AT HER. She falls in love with John Gavin, BUT SHE WANTS TO BE STAR! Juanita Moore loves her daughter Susan Kohner, BUT HER DAUGHTER PASSES FOR WHITE! Sandra Dee FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER MOTHER'S LOVER! One of the women has a HOLLYWOOD ILLNESS, and one of the daughters BECOMES A SHOWGIRL!

It was pretty neat, actually. Melodramatic, but it still tugged at my heartstrings. I hate the men in Sirk's films, though -- they're always so controlling. Eh, anyway, Lana Turner is beautiful and wonderful in her role, and Juanita Moore...well, let's get to it.

Juanita Moore is incredible. Her Annie appears first as all smiles, eager to please, the perfect Negro housemaid -- she doesn't even require payment! But subtle touches here and there put her above the stereotype this role could have been. There are two specific scenes in particular that absolutely won me over.



First, there is a scene in 1947 where she discovers that her daughter has been passing as white, denying both her mother and her heritage. The entire sequence is heartbreaking. Moore's Annie Johnson puts her best face forward: she tries to remain strong, saying that her blackness is "nothing to be ashamed of". But that hurt on her face just KILLS ME. The way she says, "It's a sin to be ashamed," trying to remain proud while knowing that that very pride alienates her from her daughter. Even approaching it from a religious point of view is of little help, as the doubt on her face shows. And that telling line: "How do you tell a child that she was born to be hurt?" That delivery is brilliant.



The second scene comes up an hour later. Annie is telling Lora of her dream funeral, one with all of her friends. After twelve years with this woman under her roof, Lora says, "It never occurred to me that you have friends." The look on Annie's face when she says, "Why, Miss Lora, you never ask," says it all. So subtle, in that she still has her good-natured face on, but there is the trace of a wince, a shade of doubt. She's hurt, but she knows she can't show it. As John Gavin's character says, Annie's the rock.



In these two scenes alone, Juanita Moore provides so much depth and history for Annie. She is absolutely brilliant in the role. Not to be outdone, of course, is Susan Kohner as her daughter, Sarah Jane.

It seems, at first, that Kohner is going to do the Angry Daughter routine. Cross, belligerent, hateful. Fortunately, that's not what the screenplay gives her, and that's not what she plays. SJ is a gal ashamed of who she is, but at least she's living in a sort of reality -- everyone else tells her race isn't a problem, but society clearly feels another way. She notices that Annie is little more than the live-in maid, that despite Lora and Suzy's protestations of familial love, they still call the whites "Miss Lora", "Miss Suzy", and "Mr. Steve." And surely, if she can pass for white, why shouldn't she? It certainly makes life easier.



There's one scene in particular that wins me over for Kohner's performance. She tells Suzy (played by an exasperating Sandra Dee) that she has a secret boyfriend, to which Suzy replies, "Is he colored?" SJ's response isn't just disgust at the thought, but offense at the presumption. For surely, if it doesn't matter, why shouldn't she be able to date a white boy? Why does Lora assume automatically that she's with the chauffeur's boy? Kohner plays this with the right balance of anger and self-protection, so that we can disagree with what she's doing while still understanding the motives.



In fact, Kohner's performance almost mirrors that of Lana Turner's. Both are hard-luck women who want to get ahead in life. For Turner's Lora, that means a life on stage; Kohner's Sarah Jane pursues a similar career as a showgirl. She even "acts" the role of a plantation slave, which I suppose we're meant to condemn, but honestly, I can feel for her. The white people are so subconsciously...well, not prejudiced, but "traditional". They take Annie's presence for granted, and while what Sarah Jane does is uncouth, I certainly do not find it to be without some justification. And I really think a lot of that comes from Kohner's winning performance.



Great gams, too.

Two solid performances in one great film. After a glorified cameo and an underused Thelma Ritter, this was a breath of fresh air.

The Movie: ***1/2 (out of 4)
Juanita Moore's Performance: **** (out of 5)
Susan Kohner's Performance: **** (out of 5)

Room at the Top

Room at the Top is one of those odd little treats, an independent British film that somehow managed to hit it big with critics, audiences, and awards groups in 1959. It starts off kind of odd, but after about fifteen minutes, I found I could not tear my eyes from the screen.



The film revolves an accountant at the Town Hall, a Mr. Lampton (Oscar-nominated Laurence Harvey), with dreams of shucking his life as a working class schmuck in favor of a life of riches. This leads him to pursuing Susan Brown (Heather Sears), daughter of a city councilman, the richest man (best-in-show Donald Wolfit) in the county. At the same time, he falls for a woman in the community theatre, a married French lady named Alice (Simone Signoret, who won the Oscar for her role). And, of course, it's the struggle between the classes and love and all that jazz.

But it is a very intriguing piece. It's very talky, and it really is a very basic plot. It kind of reminds me of the work of Nathanael West, in that it is simple, angry, pessimistic, and kind of episodic. And yet, it is suspenseful. I know I'm into a film when I'm watching it on the computer, by myself, and I still shift everything around so I can sit on the edge. Will he pursue the girl? Leave with the wife? Gain the trust of Mr. Brown?

Everything unfolds in a rather realistic style. There are so many moments when it could become melodrama, but the restraint of the director and actors keeps it real. Simone Signoret especially is dazzling to watch as the tragic Alice, a performance that breaks your heart and makes you fall in love. You can see the attraction Lampton would have for her, despite her being ten years his senior.

I liked how flawed Mr. Lampton was, too. I wanted him to succeed, certainly. I kept rooting for him to save his honor, but to also pursue his heart. All this despite the fact that, in all honesty, he's a bit of a dick. Like, big time. Logically, there is no reason why anybody should like this guy, what with the chip on his shoulder, forward manner, and moral hypocrisy. I think it speaks to the power of the performance and the screenplay that we still care.

That's all very well and good, but what of the Supporting Actress Nominee from the film? Hermione Baddeley holds the record for shortest nominated performance, ever: 00:02:32. Let me repeat that. Hermione Baddeley was nominated for an Academy Award for appearing on screen for two and a half minutes. That is 2% of the film's total running time. Geez, and I thought Thelma Ritter's Pillow Talk nom was bizarre. This is barely a cameo!



Baddeley appears four times, the bulk of her performance taking place in her first scene. She plays Elspeth, who lends her apartment to Alice and Lampton for their rendezvous. Elspeth is a music teacher, I believe, and we first see her as she sweeps into her apartment, apologizing to the lovers before settling herself in. She seems boisterous, your typical cockney lady, until she sits at the piano. Out of earshot of Alice, she expresses concern to Mr. Lampton, asking him not to hurt her friend. "She loves you," she proclaims. "She doesn't know it, yet, but she does."



I love this scene. It is such a short exchange, with dialogue we've heard a hundred times before in other films, but I love Baddeley's delivery. I love that she gets up close so we can see the lines in her face. I love how weary she looks as she's talking. I love that she already foresees disaster and is just going through the motions.

The rest of her scenes are the basic stuff: Supportive friend at the piano, screaming at Mr. Lampton at the end, her reactions at the wedding. But it's that first scene that has all the meat. A worthy performance. It's just a shame that they couldn't nominate Heather Sears, whose portrayal of Susan is exciting to watch. She seems like a sweet, innocent virgin, but if you try to cross her -- WATCH OUT. And (SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT) her afterglow after her first time is magnificent. "I don't feel any different. Do I look different? I don't feel different."

Anyway, Baddeley gives a brief turn, but it's effective. In just two minutes, we see the sad history of disappointments that Elspeth has experienced, as well as the weariness that comes with being Alice's bestie for the restie. And that final breakdown -- screeching cat one moment, confused little lady the next. Powerful stuff, making more out of her two minutes than Thelma made with her six or seven.

The Movie: *** (out of 4)
The Performance: *** (out of 5)

Pillow Talk

Today, I started on that crazy, kooky adventure known as Smackdowning. Having signed up for StinkyLulu's Supporting Actress Smackdown of 1959, and with so little free time on my hands, I used what moment of leisure I had to catch a rom-com that I've been wanting to for ages. It won the Oscar for Best Writing, Story and Screenplay - Written Directly for the Screen, which was the 1959 way of saying Original Screenplay. And it's a fun gem, too.



The movie itself is awesome. Some naughty bits here and there with that split-screen, and those innuendos make me envy the talent of the writers. "A man with his own mountain doesn't need the city." Tee-hee. "Not every man finishes a sentence with a proposition." Ha! "I never met a boy with so many arms." Oh, heavens!

Rock Hudson is great as always, playing a New York City playboy (Brad Allen) posing as a Texas farmboy (Rex Stetson) while also getting a chance to "play" gay. Doris Day was Oscar-nominated (rightfully so) for the role of interior decorator Jan Morrow, and Tony Randall -- well, if ever there was a character based on me, this would be one of them, and he plays me beautifully. Great job!

A catchy title tune, a few songs in a bar, and even a musical interlude that takes place entirely within Doris Day's head (!) are all very well and good, but they do get kind of distracting. As does a running joke involving an obstetrician's office, a joke that is a little "Ehhhhhh," to quote August: Osage County.

Meanwhile, there is the question of the Oscar-nominated performance of Miss Thelma Ritter, here playing the role of Jan's maid, Alma.

And I gotta tell you, it's a puzzling nomination.



This is how we meet Alma: struggling to stay on two feet while nursing a hangover. The elevator operator is concerned, Jan seems to be taking it in stride, and Alma is on her way to do the cleaning. End of first scene. We barely even get to see her face.

In fact, we barely get to know anything about Alma at all. We know she's an alcoholic, we know she listens in on Jan's phone (she shares a party line with Brad, and Alma finds his wooing of the many ladies in his life intriguing), and we know that she cracks wise. I guess.



See, I like Thelma Ritter. I thought she was wonderful in Miracle on 34th Street and Rear Window, and in Titanic, she was all I noticed (until we turned off the movie, as it was late and it was a school night -- this is going back twelve years or so). When I know she's in a movie, I'm ready to settle in and let the adoration flow.

But this...this isn't anything. The role, I mean. And I can't decide if Thelma's doing nothing or doing everything. On the one hand, she looks bored to tears; on the other, this could be a very shrewd portrayal of a sad, lonely woman who can only gain joy from living vicariously through the telephone and drinking herself into a stupor night after night. Which is intriguing, and if this is what she meant to go for, than it's a very subtle, good performance -- that is out of place.



I mean, I hate to limit the tone of a film, but this is a sex comedy. Tony Randall is practically overselling it, but it works. Rock Hudson and Doris day are having a dandy good time. Everything is frothy and fun, and then: this. A sad drunk. Every time she showed up, she slapped me in the face with both her lonely presence and her 1959 attitudes:

ALMA: "If there's anything worse than a woman living alone, it's a woman saying she likes it."
JAN: "Well, what am I missing?"
ALMA: "If you have to ask, you're missing it!"

Thelma Ritter scenes should not be the only ones in which I don't laugh. In fact, as I recall, there was but one bit with Alma that I enjoyed:



Brad goes to Alma for advice on how to win back Jan. He decides to take her out for drinks, and after she directs him to a much better bar, there's this shot. Alma is still sitting up straight, and the scene is just her divulging a plan as Brad wearily tries to keep afloat. But the biggest laugh from this scene comes after it, when Brad recounts to his friend, "I made it through a bottle of Scotch, but I lost her during the Vodka." Or something like that. Anyway, it was hilarious, but it was said after she was out of frame.

This was one of six nominations Thelma Ritter received from the Academy, all for Supporting Actress. And there are some actresses that are default nominees (Ritter), who sometimes give performances that wouldn't be noteworthy if it wasn't for the actress and the film. This is one of those times. I wish I could have loved Thelma Ritter's Alma more. Maybe in another movie.

The Movie: *** (out of 4)
The Performance: ** (out of 5)