Can't Get You Out of My Head: Original Song, 1974

I honestly look forward to this category every year, and I think the nominees say as much about the year in film as Screenplay or Best Picture. Back in the day, the winner might also be a chart-topper, and oh how I miss those days! Truly, there's nothing more I want to do then turn on the radio to hear "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" (wait...it won, right?).

Besides, this is the category where all the freaks go. 2010 gave us two cartoons and a Gwyneth Paltrow movie few saw and fewer liked. 1974? Well, see for yourself.

"Benji's Theme (I Feel Love)" from Benji

***

Like the film, the titular song is beyond cheesy, yet somehow manages to work. A pretty lovable tune, actually, and it works within the film's squeaky clean, family-friendly environment. It really does sound like something the dutiful, adorable Benji would sing if he could.

"Blazing Saddles" from Blazing Saddles

***

A simple homage to the country themes of old. Frankie Laine performs, an ingenious move considering he was the singer of the themes for High Noon and Gunfight at the OK Corral. Solid, singable, and a real earworm tune. I like it, it fits the film, it's great.

"Wherever Love Takes Me" from Gold

*

I once read Gold described as a disaster film, which is completely misleading. Sure, there is a (man-made) disaster at film's climax, but it's more of a corporate thriller/soapy romance. Perhaps the presence of Maureen McGovern singing this all right love tune threw people off; after all, she also contributed to the soundtracks for The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno (talk about a niche market).

Sing this she does, though, and the context...fits, I guess? It plays when Roger Moore gets into the plane of his boss's wife and they fly across South Africa to a weekend getaway of sexy sex sex. So I guess, wherever takes them, that's where they'll want to go...in a plane. It fits the subplot, but not the main plot, and it's not very memorable, so I wonder how it got the nomination over the groovy title tune.

"The Little Prince" from The Little Prince

*****

I almost cried when I heard Richard Kiley sing this at the end of the film. There is no moment more emotional than the final scene between the Pilot and the Prince, when the formerly disillusioned man begs for the magical youngster to stay behind. By this time, we've seen the relationship take that classic journey from irritation/confusion to a brotherhood, one where each learns something from the other. The tune is exquisite, and Kiley's interpretation...well, I said it already. It moves one to tears. By far the most powerful moment of the film.

"We May Never Love Like This Again" from The Towering Inferno

****

One of those lovably corny songs that somehow won the Oscar and was probably the first dance at many a mid-70s wedding. It's hard to turn off once that first line gets going, and soon you're just basking in its earnestness. And hey, they actually put Maureen McGovern in the film so that she could sing it at the grand opening of Fiery Death Tower. I kind of wish she appeared more in the film, I want to know if she survived the inferno. Of course, what this song has to do with anything in the movie is anyone's guess. The sad attempt at a love story is a waste of Faye Dunaway's time, and the song isn't even used in that context either. It's just there.

Well, I guess the fact that the couples are slow-dancing gives it some relevance. And the song is just so damn nice.

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Oscar awarded the earworm song from The Towering Inferno. But for relevance and sheer, powerful beauty, I award the Oscar to...

LERNER & LOEWE for "THE LITTLE PRINCE"

from

THE LITTLE PRINCE

Greatness at the Edges: Supporting Actress, 1974

Remember when StinkyLulu had a 1974 smackdown on his blog? I consider this my way-late weigh-in, just like it's my way-late Academy vote. I need a watch. And a calendar.

Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express

**

When I first saw this movie as a young lad, I remember a "huh?" moment when hearing Bergman won the Oscar. Bergman is very good in this, I think, and it's absolutely shocking to see Ilsa Lund play this frumpy missionary. I believe every word she speaks, I believe her naively referring to the children of her mission as "black babies born more backwards than I" just as I believe her yelling, "Thou shalt not kill!" after the discovery of the body. It's a role that strikes one as merely stereotypical in the novel, but Bergman manages to convey some humanity in it.

But while I don't think this performance is deserving of the bile it's received in recent years, I certainly don't think it's Oscar-worthy. It's a solid performance of a simply-written character, but with such a large ensemble, there were at least three other superior supporting actresses to choose from. I really do love this movie, though I admit to being an Agatha Christie fanatic!

Valentina Cortese in Day for Night

***

Cortese is so electric and hilarious at film's beginning, it's a shame we rarely get to see her. I really only remember three key scenes with Cortese's character: the dressing-room, the Big Scene that she keeps flubbing, and the farewell dinner. My sister once said that she hates people who declare themselves divas, because real divas don't need to declare it, and they're rarely aware of it. Certainly this describes Severine, who boozes her way through the set of May I Present Pamela. Of course, she has her reasons, but these are hastily explained and dispensed with, never to be heard of again. Yet now the subtext is there, deepening our perception of the character.

Is the performance that deep? Not in the same way, but sure. Cortese seems to be playing with her own motivations, ones that work just as effectively and heartbreakingly as the one scriptgirl Joelle offers. Severine is confused, now jolly, now deeply unhappy, now joking, now motherly. Really, I miss Severine when she's gone, and her last scene made me wish for more. And that...that's an accomplishment.

Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles

*****

Madeline Kahn is probably one of the funniest women to ever appear on screen. Her performances are as legendary as they are hilarious: Mrs. White, Elizabeth, the "brave, unbalanced woman" in What's Up Doc?, and of course, the Dietrich-parody that is Lili von Shtupp. She gets an entire sequence to herself, one in which she is tasked by the evil Hedley Lamar (Harvey Korman) to seduce and destroy the town of Johnson's black sheriff, Black Bart. She croons, she dances, she seduces, she falls for him. After all, what they say about men like Bart is twue.

Kahn's great ability as a comedienne, though, was not just to sell the jokes themselves, but to sell the character with sincerity. Seeing Lili go from exhausted singer-spy to a smitten romantic is not only amusing, but pretty adorable. Only Kahn could sell a song as corny/funny/bawdy as "I'm Tired" (They're alvays coming and going/And going and coming/And alvays too soon). Only Kahn could follow up an evening of carnality with the line, "Vat a nice guy." There's a reason why, more than ten years after her death, she's still one of the most admired and quoted character actresses around. It's a shame she quickly disappears after ten straight minutes of her hot comic genius, but I guarantee you'll be thinking about her at film's end. She;s easily the best part of one of the best comedies ever made.

Diane Ladd in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore

****

Alice... takes an awful long time to get going. Maybe this is because I knew she had to get there, but the first 40 minutes really feel like one long set-up to getting Ellen Burstyn to that diner to be a waitress.

You know who makes that 40-minute wait worthwhile? Diane Ladd's Flo, the greatest of all greasy-spoon waitresses. She's loud, she's crude, and you know that hair put a hole in the ozone. Of course, like everyone brassy individual the movies throw at us, Flo has some simple wisdom to impart, shrugged off with a cigarette in the bathroom as her friends break down. Really, anyone who doesn't want to be Flo's best friend is probably a real drag.

Talia Shire in The Godfather: Part II

*

Shire has two big scenes: playing boozy, negligent mother who wants to run off with Tory Donahue; begging Michael to forgive Fredo after that famous kiss of death. Shire plays both pretty lousily, in my opinion. Clearly, it was the second scene that got her the nomination, and it's a damn well-written piece. Unfortunately, Shire's the actress in this case, and for some reason she's just no good in this movie. Like, at all. From her first scene to her last, I grit my teeth and begged for the end. I don't even think Shire's a bad actress for the most part, but this does not work for me.

------------------

I can't believe Oscar chose Bergman, and that Bergman chose Cortese, because for me, it's so obvious that the Oscar should have gone to...

MADELINE KAHN

in

BLAZING SADDLES

she's pooped

If You Build It, They Will Film: Art Direction, 1974

CHINATOWN

Richard Sylbert, production designer

W. Stewart Campbell, art director

Roby R. Levitt, set decorator

****

I don't think a single detail has been forgotten. The water department's walls are almost completely covered with the certificates and photographs of Noah Cross's ego, Jake Gittes' office has the art deco glass bricks of the period, and of course there's Mulwray's pond. At times cluttered, but so is my room, and that doesn't make it unrealistic.

EARTHQUAKE

Alexander Golitzen, production designer

E. Preston Ames, art director

Frank McKelvy, set decorator

**

It's really all about the destruction, as Los Angeles becomes a maze of rubble. Many of the sets are genuinely devastating; other times, it's very clear that we're on a backlot. Goddamn do I love this movie, though.

THE GODFATHER: PART II

Dean Tavoularis, production designer

Angelo Graham, art director

George R. Nelson, set decorator

***

Early twentieth century Sicily and New York are invoked as effectively and subtly as 1950s Havana and Nevada. You always know what time period you're in, yet the execution is never flashily announcing itself.

THE ISLAND AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD

Peter Ellenshaw, production designer

John B. Mansbridge/Walter H. Tyler/Al Roelofs, art directors

Hal Gausman, set decorator

*****

Nominated primarily for that airship, I bet. Nahh, you also gotta give credit to the team for making a series of menacing mountains, ice caves, lava pits, Viking temples, and that graveyard of whales. It's a superb mix of matte paintings, practical sets, and special effects.

THE TOWERING INFERNO

William J. Creber, production designer

Ward Preston, art director

Raphael Bretton, set decorator

****

I kind of just want to live in this building. Yeah, I know, it's a deathtrap, but LOOK AT THAT ORANGE OFFICE.

Oscar chose The Godfather: Part II, a fine choice, really. I see things a little differently and award...

THE ISLAND AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD

for pure fantasy awesome

All Their Own: Original Screenplay, 1974

Of course, as soon as I have a new thing planned, work calls. The Summer Movie Season is upon us! Here's what I wanted to post Thursday:

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore by Robert Getchell 

***

I'll be honest, I don't know how much of what I love is the screenplay. For instance, I love that Alice is actually kind of unlikable in a lot of scenes, yet so human that we can't help but identify with and root for her. But is that the writing, an acting choice or Scorsese's direction? Though I suppose the latter two would have to have been working off of something. Then again, Getchell does deliver that inexplicable Hollywood ending with the Big Romantic Speech...but then again, still, he also gave us the wonderful Flo. It's so hard to tell what was the writer and what was the director with these auteurs.

Chinatown by Robert Towne

*****

I really do think this is one of those masterpiece screenplays. Every moment of every scene provides a clue to the mystery, whether you realize it or not. There are surprisingly hilarious moments, making that finale all the more shocking, and effective. And then of course there's the gradual progression of our understanding of what Chinatown is.

What's bizarre, though, is that while the ending really is one of the greatest strengths of the film, credit for that must go to director Polanski, who convinced a reluctant Towne to change it from the less downbeat climax of the script. It's strange, for it goes so well with what Towne's established, with the characters and tone and setup and everything. Surely, though, it is a great writer who can see what's best for the story, even if it's different from his original plan. Towne himself eventually admitted it was better for the film. How should I rate this, then? On the final result, or the writer's intentions?

Final result, man. Because it's fucking Chinatown.

The Conversation by Francis Ford Coppola

****

A character study-mystery-thriller with nary a moment wasted. Every line of dialogue either presents a new aspect of Gene Hackman's character or a new element of paranoia. Think about this: we're watching a film about a private individual who says very little, whom few people know intimately, yet we're there with him every step of the way...and there's no voice-over. Like Chinatown, every development is earned by what's preceded it, never a dishonest step.

Day for Night by Jean-Louis Richard, Suzanne Schiffman and Francois Truffaut

***

An ensemble film about filmmaking? Bitches, you know I'm gonna love this. The script allows every member of the ensemble to have at least one great moment in the spotlight: the script girl, the producer, the wife of one of the executives, the lead actress's husband, everyone! If there is an element that gives me pause, it's the way certain things are brought up and then dropped, like the real source of star Severine's muddling of her lines. And yet...is this not a perfect portrait of a film set? Brief catches of gossip, of lovemaking, of rivalries, springing up and disappearing in the limited amount of time they have. Severine herself puts it best: "What a funny life we lead. We meet, we work together, we love each other, and then -- THPPT! As soon as we grasp something, it's gone! See?"

Of course, some people do believe that dialogue = screenplay, and Day for Night certainly has some classic lines. Besides Severine's little speech, my two favorite pieces of dialogue would have to be: "People used to stare at fires. Now they watch TV. We need to see moving images, especially after dinner," and "I'd drop a guy for a film. I'd never drop a film for a guy!" When you can tell everything about a character just from the words they say, the writer's done their job.

Harry & Tonto by Paul Mazursky and Josh Greenfeld

**

Harry & Tonto, for me, misses so many opportunities to be more than an adorable old man taking a road trip. Maybe I missed something, but is there an arc of any kind? Harry doesn't want to leave his apartment, he's thrown out, he road trips he meets people. Do these people change his life in any significant way? Or anything at all? No, he just kind of meets them and then continues on his way. What's the point of the prostitute? The hitchhikers? The old flame? The son who pretends to have it all but doesn't? The nephew who refuses to speak? Ellen Burstyn? There are interesting set-ups to each of these segments, and it feels like they're about to go somewhere, but they don't.

Perhaps the most irritating aspect, for me, is a major spoiler, so feel free to skip this paragraph.

But isn't Tonto the most important thing for him now? He won't get on a plane because of Tonto, he won't stay on a Greyhound because of Tonto, he panics while in jail because of Tonto. Yet Tonto's death is off-screen, and delivered to us by way of voice-over...and I feel no emotional connection. Mayve I shouldn't blame this on the screenplay. Maybe this is more on the directing and editing side of things, and there was a beautiful and poignant moment set up within the script. All I know is, one of the title characters died and it hardly mattered. It's as though the cat existed merely to get him off the bus and away from planes. No thank you.

---------------------------------------------

Really, who am I to argue with Oscar on this one? I, too, believe the Oscar should go to...

ROBERT TOWNE

for

CHINATOWN

I Know This Song: Best Adapted Score, 1974

In 1974, the Academy had two separate designations for the music categories: Original Score and Adapted/Song Score. We all know the former, but the latter was made especially for either original musicals or films that depended on arrangements of preexisting work. Previous winners included the documentary Let It Be, the musical Cabaret and the period caper film The Sting. Indeed, the category still exists, but Academy rules dictate that it is only to be used if there are a substantial number of films meeting the guidelines. Since the idea of the original musical went out with Xanadu, there's little chance of that happening, though as this year shows, sometimes all you needed was an arranger t get the Oscar.

Nelson Riddle adapting songs of the 1920s for The Great Gatsby

***

I feel so sorry for this movie. The intention is there, the actors are trying, the sets and costumes are perfect, but it just falls flat. Should we blame the editor obsessed with dissolves, the director obsessed with the trappings, or the cinematographer obsessed with nothing of interest? Certainly the script, credited to Francis Ford Coppola but rewritten by Vladimir Nabokov and Philip Roth, is part of the problem, with a large portion devoted to insipid romantic scenes between Gatsby and Daisy. And, of course, there's the miscasting of Mia Farrow in the lead role. It all looks pretty, but it's all for naught.

Riddle's score, actually, is part of the problem. Yes, The Great Gatsby is the novel that summed up the 1920s, but that doesn't mean we can't mix it up a little. Must we hear the Charleston every thirty minutes? Does "Whispering" have to occur at every Gatsby party? And, I swear, if I heard Redford and Farrow making pillow talk during "What'll I Do?" one more time, I would've unburied the corpse of Nelson Riddle and beaten the shit out of him. Mind, if I had the album with just the music, I probably would listen to it again and again, but within the film itself it's just all too much.

Angela Morley and Douglas Gamley orchestrating the song score by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe for The Little Prince

****

Here is the first of two original musicals nominated in this category. The film as a whole is pretty uneven, but what works is largely due to the songs. Beginning with simple, repetitive music and lyrics, the emotional oomph of the score matures as the characters develop -- just compare the opening tune "It's a Hat" with closing number "The Little Prince". Maybe it's just the delivery of these songs -- I'll take Gene Wilder and Bob Fosse over a bizarrely-shot close-up of Joss Ackland any day.

Though the songs may vary from simple and annoying to downright beautiful, the music by itself is typical of Frederick Loewe's greatness. The success of the entire second half of the film depends, I would say, on Loewe's music, most effective when it is unaccompanied by Lerner's words. The montage of the Pilot and the Prince at the oasis is effectively joyful because of the arrangement of "Why is the Desert"; the finale inspires tears because of the arrangement of "Little Prince" combined with "Closer and Closer and Closer". It's phenomenal work.

Paul Williams and George Aliceson Tipton orchestrating the song score by Williams for Phantom of the Paradise

*****

Um, that's a super spoilery clip, but it features the best uses of the original score and song. I suggest only looking if you don't mind spoilers or if you're familiar with the film.

I'm on record: Phantom of the Paradise is one of my favorite horror movies, ever. It's also one of my favorite musicals, ever. I've listened to this soundtrack more times than I can keep track of, in whatever way I could. When it came on TV one time, I recorded the songs with a tape recorder held to the speaker. When YouTube was born, I sought clips from the film and played it again and again. When my girlfriend got the soundtrack, you better believe we listened to that CD in the car for days (the music is in our respective ranges, too, so that helps). Now I finally have the score on my iTunes, and it's so gooood.

This is very much a song score, though. I think I can name off the top of my head all the instances of non-singing score: the conversation between Philbin and Swan when they first hear Winslow's music; the montage of Winslow trying to contact Swan after the music mogul stole his cantata; and the grand finale.

Oh my God, but does one really need an isolated score when the songs are this amazing? The greatest crime committed at the 1974 Oscars was the complete shut-out of Phantom of the Paradise from the Original Song category. Williams' "Beauty and the Beast" deserves constant play. "Old Souls" and "Special to Me" are beautiful songs, showcasing the talents of the long-missed Jessica Harper. Few finales sum it all up quite like "The Hell of It".


Oscar awarded The Great Gatsby, but I don't think it's any surprise to hear me go for something else entirely.

PAUL WILLIAMS and GEORGE ALICESON TIPTON

for

PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE

The Men In Charge: Best Actor, 1974

Let us begin with the men.

 
1974 was dominated by male-centric films, whether focusing on an ensemble of Hollywood stars saving the women and children from disaster (Earthquake, The Towering Inferno), a mafia don and the saga of his sons (The Godfather: Part II), a vengeful father (Death Wish), or a parody of the classic Hollywood cowboy (Blazing Saddles). It was also dominated by a slew of classics and cult flicks -- how many times have The Godfather: Part II, Young Frankenstein and Chinatown appeared on "best of film" lists? These are movies we have memorized before we even see them, and they needed someone with balls in charge. In the case of these five films, quite literally.

Art Carney in Harry and Tonto

**

Check out the other performances and you'll see actors headlining a murder mystery with a morally ambiguous ending, a warts-and-all biopic with a sad ending, a cynical noir with a pessimistic ending, and a crime epic with a exhaustingly tragic ending. Then there's this film, a light-hearted road movie centering on an octagenarian going cross-country with his cat after his New York apartment is demolished. I'll get into what I feel about the movie itself when I cover its screenplay nomination, but let me preface my take on Carney's performance with these words: I just don't like this movie. It means well, but as a whole I just don't care for it.

Not that Carney is the issue. I think he's quite capable in the role of Harry, subtly underplaying it most of the time so that his outbursts of real emotion are all the more effective. When I think about what I like about Harry and Tonto, I think about his forcing a Greyhound bus to stop because his cat needs to pee. Or his tearful exit after identifying a body at the morgue. Or, my favorite scene, his visit to a nursing home that ends in a dance with an old flame. That moment is just beautiful enough to make me like the film and performance a little more. In the end, though, I don't think the role is challenging, and I don't think Carney's performance is either.

Albert Finney in Murder on the Orient Express

***

Agatha Christie once stated that she could never write her popular detective Hercule Poirot for the stage because he was too over-the-top. In close-up the role is just as jarring as Christie expected. Heavily made-up and speaking with a gruff accent, it's hard to believe this is Albert Finney. He gets Poirot's watchfulness, ego, and amusement, in ways both subtle and not very subtle at all. The challenge, of course, is to make an interesting character out of someone who is conducting interviews for two hours, and Finney rises to the occasion. He's soothing here, accusatory there; Poirot adapts to the occasion spontaneously.

This also makes Poirot pretty inscrutable. When David Suchet went from righteous anger to soothing calm in the television version, you could chart that progress. Finney's Poirot, on the other hand, is a cartoon, yelling at inappropriate moments and muttering Shirley Temple tunes under his breath. His individual interviews are great, and he nails that final ten-minute monologue, but the performance rests on the mannerisms.

Dustin Hoffman in Lenny

*****

Is there a more perfect marriage of actor and role? Hoffman, as we've seen, is a notorious improviser who never plays the same scene twice. Lenny Bruce, according to Albert Goldman, was a notorious improviser "whose ideal was to walk out there like Charlie Parker, take that mike in his hand like a horn and blow, blow, blow everything that came into his head just as it came into his head with nothing censored, nothing translated, nothing mediated". Bring the two together and you get a performance that just sizzles.

I don't know how to express my love for this performance. Never before have I seen Hoffman this hilarious, vulnerable, adorable, maddening and charming. His nerdy exuberance when romancing Honey is infectious; his single-minded obsession with his obscenity trials is frustrating. His performance makes the disparate images of the responsible father and the drug-abuser just different parts of the same man. I really just want to show you the movie and yell, "SEE? LOOK AT THIS!" every scene. But that would be annoying, so I won't.

Jack Nicholson in Chinatown

*****

I imagine it must be difficult to play a gumshoe, since your role is either to react or offer exposition. Yet it's not hard to see why Nicholson was the frontrunner this year. Of course, Robert Towne's screenplay and Roman Polanski's direction lay enough groundwork for Nicholson to work with, but it takes a special kind of actor to make the private dick effective. I'm not talking charm, I'm talking smarm, and Nicholson has it. It's a sleazy job -- and that defense at the barbershop seems to be more for his benefit than his neighbor's -- but dammit he's good at it.

Perhaps the strongest element of his performance is his incredulity. Jake Gittes can usually weasel his way into anything, but this case, taking him from a simple case of adultery into a conspiracy within the Los Angeles County Water Department, manages to catch him off guard at every turn. He trusts the wrong people, follows the wrong leads, accuses the wrong culprit. Gittes is as human as you or I, a man whose past hurts inform his present relationships. He's vulgar, quick-witted, suspicious...really, there are few I'd rather spend two hours watching. Indeed, this was one of the few movies that I never took my eyes off of once, and Nicholson's performance is a HUGE part of the fascination.

Al Pacino in The Godfather: Part II

****

Pacino ups his game from the original. There's no trace of the Michael Corleone who once assured Diane Keaton, "That's my family, Kay, that's not me." Michael is calculating and cold-blooded. The man calmly orders the assassination of Hyman Roth, gives his brother the kiss of death, and manipulates the witnesses of a grand jury investigation. He rages at his wife and his consigliere -- powerful moments, indeed, for they go against his usually controlled demeanor. It's fascinating to see a man so changed, yet refusing to acknowledge that his relationships have. The aforementioned argument with Kay is rightfully legendary, and that final shot of Michael sitting alone after "settling business" haunts me still, a full two months since I saw the movie.

------------------------

Oscar chose Art Carney, but if I had to choose between these five, the Oscar goes to...

DUSTIN HOFFMAN

in

LENNY

a magnetic performance, beautiful and ugly, triumphant and tragic

Flashback! To Greatness!

Due no doubt to Nick Davis's tweet challenging his followers to do so, I recently decided to watch the five films making up the 1974 Best Actress Oscar Nominees. It's widely regarded as one of the best fields the category has ever offered, and rightly so! In fact, 1974 was a strong year altogether -- so strong in fact, that I found myself watching (and re-watching) all the films nominated for those sexy, popular categories: Picture, Director, Acting, Writing and Cinematography. Then, of course, I realized the other films that came out in 1974, films that I admire: Phantom of the Paradise, Phase IV, The Beast Must Die, The Man with the Golden Gun, etc., etc., etc.

And thus do I declare May to be the month of '74! It's a look at the films of that glorious year, from the Oscar nominees to the ones that didn't make it, rankings for each category, and....

THE FIRST EVER RETRO HOLLMANN AWARDS! That's right, I'll be presenting my own winners and nominees from the year 1974!

Step into the Way-Back Machine, folks. It's gonna be a fun ride....