OVP: The Towering Inferno (1974)

Film: The Towering Inferno (1974)

Stars: Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, William Holden, Faye Dunaway, Fred Astaire, Susan Blakely, Richard Chamberlain, Jennifer Jones, OJ Simpson, Robert Vaughn, Robert Wagner, Susan Flannery, Jack Collins

Director: John Guillermin

Oscar History: 7 nominations/3 wins (Best Picture, Supporting Actor-Fred Astaire, Art Direction, Cinematography*, Film Editing*, Score, Song, Sound)

Snap Judgment Ranking: 2/5 stars

Each month, as part of our 2026 Saturdays with the Stars series, we are looking at the men & women who created the Boom!-Pow!-Bang! action films that would come to dominate the Blockbuster Era of cinema.  This month, our focus is on Steve McQueen: click here to learn more about Mr. McQueen (and why I picked him), and click here for other Saturdays with the Stars articles.

Steve McQueen's career hit its financial peak in 1974, when he starred with Paul Newman in today's film The Towering Inferno.  At this point, Newman & McQueen were two of the biggest names in movies, and there were quite a few arguments over who would get top billing in the picture (ultimately it was a draw, with McQueen's name first but Newman's name higher), but after this both would suffer career lulls.  Newman would rebound eventually in the 1980's with films like The Verdict and The Color of Money, the latter winning him his only competitive Oscar, but McQueen would never regain this position.  He'd make an ill-fated Ibsen film in 1978 (one that would basically disappear from public consciousness), and then a pair of pictures in 1980 (Tom Horn and The Hunter), both decent-sized hits that might have hallmarked a comeback, but that wasn't to be.  Just over three months after the release of The Hunter, Steve McQueen would be dead.

(Spoilers Ahead) But before we get into that, let's get into the height of his career, at least commercially.  The Towering Inferno was a landmark movie in terms of its box office in 1974.  In the previous years, films like Airport and The Poseidon Adventure had found a formula for success-put a bunch of famous stars, including at least a few studio system legends that can scoop up a supporting acting Oscar nomination, and place them in an insane disaster situation, one that will have at least a few of them die, but the audience can look on in horror as we wonder who from this insanely-stacked call sheet might be safe.  This film is no less than these, and arguably has the starriest cast  of the bunch, but is much more in the vein of Airport (which I did not enjoy) than The Poseidon Adventure (which I did enjoy, in large part due to Shelley Winters' solid work).  The film has the tallest building in the world on fire, and all of our characters, including architect Newman and firefighter McQueen, fighting to stay alive as more-and-more paths to the ground floor are forfeited.  Along the way, some live (including, surprisingly, conman Fred Astaire), and some die, most shockingly Jennifer Jones, who in a morbid twist would be flung from the top of a giant building in the movie two years before her daughter would commit suicide in exactly the same way.

If only the movie was any good.  Technically, this is impressive-the set design, effects, and especially the stunt work are out-of-this-world, but the film spends no time trying to develop the characters, giving us two-dimensional feats from genuinely talented actors.  It's not like someone like Faye Dunaway or Paul Newman can't add a bit of three-dimensionality to their work, but there's no call for it.  Our star of the month, Steve McQueen, feels almost ancillary to the plot of the picture even as he's supposed to be the hero.  Fred Astaire would receive his only competitive acting Oscar nomination for this movie, and man is it unnecessary-he barely has anything to do, other than shout for a dead Jennifer Jones toward the end of the picture.  It feels weird to live in a world where Fred Astaire (whom I love) never got a competitive acting nomination, but, like...over John Cazale in The Godfather, Part II or John Huston in Chinatown...let's not be ridiculous here.

As I said above, Steve McQueen would disappear from movies after this, having a bit of a nomad period where he just went out into the country in a motor home, in the process turning down parts in Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Apocalypse Now that might've dramatically changed his legacy.  But his health by the late 1970's was in terrible shape, and he developed mesothelioma (likely due to asbestos exposure from his time in the Marines).  The National Enquirer, at that point most famous for its ongoing coverage of the death of Elvis Presley rather than the right-wing attack ads that it would become known for to modern supermarket shoppers, broke the story that McQueen was dying shortly before his death (he'd been trying to keep it a secret), and McQueen attempted a number of experimental procedures, including a surgery to remove a tumor from his liver in Mexico, a procedure he couldn't have performed in the United States because no doctor would do it (since it would kill him).  12 hours into the surgery, the American doctors were proven correct, and Steve McQueen died at the age of only 50 from a heart attack.

Next month, we're going to talk about a man who was good friends with McQueen, even if they also had something of a professional rivalry during McQueen's early stardom.  Like McQueen, he also would die young, but unlike McQueen, that death would cement his legacy in a way that would in many ways outlast any films he made in life...and would become the source of near constant conspiracy theory in the decades to come, in ways that would haunt his family for generations.

1981 Oscar Viewing Project

We are officially announcing our 30th completed Oscar Viewing Project.  As of yesterday, I have officially seen all of the narrative, feature-length nominees from the ceremony, and as we do here, we'll be ranking all of the major categories.  You'll note with this list that part of the reason that I got some of these completed was that 1981 is one of the most repetitive Oscars ever-all five of the Best Picture nominees got Best Director nominations, and they produced half of the acting nominations (in the pre-2009 era, this was a pretty high metric).  In terms of the box office, though, this is who led the field:

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. On Golden Pond

3. Superman II

4. Arthur

5. Stripes

6. The Cannonball Run

7. Chariots of Fire

8. For Your Eyes Only

9. The Four Seasons

10. Time Bandits

Of these, I have seen only five of the top box office draws of the year.  The 1980's, especially the early 1980's, were still in the era where box office and Oscar's tastes were pretty much synonymous, so this is a relatively light list for Oscar nominees (as the only five films that I've seen are the five that are listed below).  I will for sure see Superman II & The Four Seasons before I complete the year for the My Ballot (where I pick the nominees...hopefully should complete that here by early June, though we'll do the 1957 My Ballot next)...the remainder are more of a question mark (make your cases for them in the comments).  If you're new here, also, look at the bottom of the page for links to all of our past 29 OVP's.

With that said, it's time to start impressing Jodie Foster, firing up your IBM computer, & wanting your MTV.  And of course, let's remember the movies...

(Note: Raiders of the Lost Ark received a Best Sound Editing Oscar at the ceremony as a special prize.  Given its nominations in other categories, I obviously saw this film, but wanted to make sure to note it-when we get to the My Ballot in the next two months for 1981, I will have this be a competitive race)

Note from John: When I did this series during the time when I wrote individual articles, and had this blog be a daily part of my life, I made a point of highlighting each nominee in my many write-ups.  While I will be writing these every time I complete a year (we'll have at least one OVP and/or My Ballot every month going forward), I can't make that time commitment, either in terms of number of articles or in terms of giving each nominee their due with a mention.  I promise, though, that I have given each nominee their due under the confines of the specific category while making my rankings (and of course I've seen every single nominated picture), including giving higher rankings to movies I didn't like if the craft was better than ones I did like (Oscar should consider that!).  Hopefully you enjoy the trimmed-down, but still devoted to the original concept version of the OVP we'll have going forward!

Picture

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. Reds

3. On Golden Pond

4. Chariots of Fire

5. Atlantic City

The Lowdown: This is, all things considered, one of the best Best Picture lineups that Oscar assembled during the 1980's, an era of moviemaking I generally find a bit underwhelming.  None of these movies is bad, but the two truly great ones of the lineup are Raiders and Reds, both from directors at the peak of their creative powers.  I'm going to favor Spielberg's Raiders.  It's less in Oscar's wheelhouse (but these are my choices for a reason), but I think that it is a tighter film, and defines the action-adventure genre.  Reds will be showing up again though (and as you'll see in the coming categories, is a movie I loved).

Director

1. Steven Spielberg (Raiders of the Lost Ark)

2. Warren Beatty (Reds)

3. Mark Rydell (On Golden Pond)

4. Hugh Hudson (Chariots of Fire)

5. Louis Malle (Atlantic City

The Lowdown: We're also going to give Spielberg his second OVP statue for Best Director, once again for a movie he didn't actually win for (can't stress enough how the links to the years we've covered are at the bottom of this page).  It's such a perfectly shot movie, giving us Harrison Ford's iconic archaeologist and a series of flawless adventure sequences.  Beatty's breathtaking too, though, particularly that effortlessly romantic scene at the train station.

Actor

1. Warren Beatty (Reds)

2. Henry Fonda (On Golden Pond)

3. Paul Newman (Absence of Malice)

4. Burt Lancaster (Atlantic City)

5. Dudley Moore (Arthur)

The Lowdown: Don't feel too bad for Beatty, though, as he's going to get a Best Actor statue for our OVP next.  The big fight here for me is between Beatty, whose John Reed is such an impassioned, imperfect example of a revolutionary (pun intended) man, bitter about his inability to be everything he dreamed (but still accomplishing true greatness).  Fonda is excellent in On Golden Pond, wrapping up a career that surely should've gotten an Oscar by then, but as a reminder we pick these winners in a vacuum, so it's possible that we're turning down Fonda's only shot at an OVP win from me, but objectively Beatty is stronger.

Actress

1. Diane Keaton (Reds)

2. Meryl Streep (The French Lieutenant's Woman)

3. Katharine Hepburn (On Golden Pond)

4. Marsha Mason (Only When I Laugh)

5. Susan Sarandon (Atlantic City)

The Lowdown: With the exception of Sarandon (who I think doesn't get Malle's tricky material) this is an underrated "all-timer" lineup, including the best thing I've seen (to date) from Marsha Mason.  For the win, though, it's between Streep and Keaton.  Streep's French Lieutenant's Woman has its detractors (including Streep herself), but I love what she does here, defining two women in similar fashions, both controlled by the same man.  There was a time I considered giving this to Streep (whom, it should be noted, has yet to win one of our OVP's or My Ballot's), but Keaton's sensational here, and giving the best dramatic performance of her career (don't you wish she'd do this instead of yet another spin on Annie Hall just once more?).

Supporting Actor

1. Jack Nicholson (Reds)

2. John Gielgud (Arthur)

3. Howard Rollins, Jr. (Ragtime)

4. Ian Holm (Chariots of Fire)

5. James Coco (Only When I Laugh)

The Lowdown: A lot of first-time OVP rendezvous this year with actors like Hepburn, Mason, Sarandon, Lancaster, & Newman, but it's hard not to think getting to talk about Jack for the first time is the biggest highlight of the bunch.  One of my all-time favorite actors, and you see why here.  His Eugene O'Neill is ruthless, him taking on the role of the "scorned lover" so deliciously ("you're a cheap gutter whore from Portland" being one of the most quotable lines he nails here).  Gielgud is delightful in Arthur and Rollins is the best part of Ragtime, but I am going to give this to Jack (who is definitely in the running to get the most total OVP and My Ballot acting statues before this is over).

Supporting Actress

1. Maureen Stapleton (Reds)

2. Melinda Dillon (Absence of Malice)

3. Elizabeth McGovern (Ragtime)

4. Jane Fonda (On Golden Pond)

5. Joan Hackett (Only When I Laugh)

The Lowdown: Yes, you're reading that right.  For the first (and perhaps only?) time, we are giving all four of the OVP acting statues to the same film, a movie that wasn't able to win Best Picture.  Unlike the other three acting categories, though, Stapleton doesn't have a lot of nearby options that would be respectable choices to beat her.  She nails this part, giving her Emma Goldman an electricity that makes you understand her importance in every scene she's in.  Dillon, McGovern, & Fonda all have their moments, and are roughly on-par (without Stapleton this would've been a more competitive field), but Stapleton being there makes it easy.

Adapted Screenplay

1. The French Lieutenant's Woman

2. On Golden Pond

3. Prince of the City

4. Pennies from Heaven

5. Ragtime

The Lowdown: A particularly weak lineup that isn't entirely Oscar's fault (virtually all of the best films of 1981 were original ideas, unimaginable today), for me it's a contest between the first two, as I thought the screenplays on the remaining pictures were a yawn.  I'm going to give it to The French Lieutenant's Woman, though.  While On Golden Pond had far more quotable lines ("you're my knight in shining armor..." being a classic speech), I think that it doesn't tread deeply enough in the relationship between real-life father-and-daughter Hank & Jane, and I was totally sold on the gimmick of The French Lieutenant's Woman being both a story within a story, something that wasn't in the John Fowles' novel.

Original Screenplay

1. Reds

2. Atlantic City

3. Chariots of Fire

4. Arthur

5. Absence of Malice

The Lowdown: On the flip side, while this isn't that great of a lineup, it at least has one terrific script in the bunch.  Reds is phenomenal, and rises above the cost of an epic (i.e. that the screenplay is regularly the weakest part of it) by giving us a genuine, enthralling love story between two people who can't seem to live without each other (even if they might have to).  Atlantic City has a lovely gimmick, and Chariots of Fire is moving (and Arthur, specifically the parts with Gielgud, can be funny), but none of them can compete with Reds, the one triumph in this field (that should've included Raiders of the Lost Ark).

Foreign Language Film

1. Mephisto (Hungary)

2. Muddy River (Japan)

3. The Boat is Full (Switzerland)

4. Man of Iron (Poland)

5. Three Brothers (Italy)

The Lowdown: One of those years where the Foreign Language Film (now the International Feature Film) category features movies that were only cited for this prize, and nowhere else, so this is your only chance to speak about any of the contenders.  The best of this bunch are Mephisto, a spin on the Faust concept (literally...the main character is an actor best known for playing the devil), and Muddy River, a moving look at friendship across income levels through the eyes of a child.  I'm going with Mephisto, because I think it's grander and has a better central performance from Klaus Marie Brandeur (it also won the Oscar), but Muddy River is not far off and really worth your time if you've never heard of it.

Original Score

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. Chariots of Fire

3. On Golden Pond

4. Ragtime

5. Dragonslayer

The Lowdown: Honestly, in a normal year this would be a slam dunk for something like On Golden Pond, a superb score that can barely muster a bronze here.  Raiders and Chariots are two of the most iconic film scores for a reason, and it's hard to argue with either of them (fun fact: I played "Hymne" by Vangelis for a piano recital when I was in middle school and still have the sheet music for it, even though I don't even have a piano).  I'm going to go with Raiders because I have more of an emotional connection to it, and because I think it's most consistent throughout the actual movie, but this is a coin toss race.

Original Song

1. "Endless Love" (Endless Love)

2. "For Your Eyes Only" (For Your Eyes Only)

3. "Arthur's Theme" (Arthur)

4. "The First Time It Happens" (The Great Muppet Caper)

5. "One More Hour" (Ragtime)

The Lowdown: If you look just at the movie titles here, I'm definitely not picking the best films of the bunch.  Bette Midler quite famously did a send-up of how bad the movies were in this lineup when she presented it (check it out if you haven't seen it...it was the funniest moment in an otherwise pretty tepid ceremony, comically speaking), and both of the Top 2 got the worst of it.  But I don't really connect with Christopher Cross, and I think "Endless Love" is both a moving little ballad, and one that fits the saccharine movie it's housing, just a bit better than the also good "For Your Eyes Only."  Had "Hey a Movie" gotten in from The Great Muppet Caper, we'd be having a reranking here as I always love the Muppets onscreen.

Sound

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. Reds

3. Pennies from Heaven

4. Outland

5. On Golden Pond

The Lowdown: We are once again pitting Raiders vs. Reds, and once again Raiders is coming out on top.  It's just hard to argue with the play on the Saturday morning adventure serial, but now in the mold of a giant movie blockbuster.  Reds is subtler with its sound work, and would make a fine win as well...particularly the crowd scenes feel authentic, melded with the music, but still have a grand aura.  Pennies from Heaven, the token musical that always shows up for Sound...is fine.

Art Direction

1. Heaven's Gate

2. Raiders of the Lost Ark

3. Reds

4. The French Lieutenant's Woman

5. Ragtime

The Lowdown: The best lineup of the bunch, there is not a single bad nominee in this group, and any of them would work as a winner.  I loved the shifts in time being played with in French Lieutenant's Woman, the over-abundance of sets in Ragtime (you understand why this became a musical), the book-laden interiors of Reds, and the continental jumping of Raiders.  But if I have to pick a winner, it needs to be Heaven's Gate, a really grand movie that was (at the time) one of the most famous flops ever made, but it looks spectacular, and I love the shifting stages & devotion to the western on display.

Cinematography

1. Reds

2. Raiders of the Lost Ark

3. Excalibur

4. On Golden Pond

5. Ragtime

The Lowdown: For the first (and only) time in this article, you will see me ever so slightly favor Reds over Raiders.  Despite loving them both, this is the only Oscar contest that I feel Beatty's film exceeds.  I love the camerawork in Raiders (that rolling boulder...come on now, it's iconic for a reason), but I can't help but feel that the use of temperature (you can practically feel the warmth & cold emanating off of the screen in Reds), plus the famous train scene, are impossible to deny.  Kudos also to Excalibur, which has the feel of a shoe-string budget but still gives us glorious looks at Nicol Williamson & Helen Mirren in their entrancing witchiness.

Costume

1. Reds

2. The French Lieutenant's Woman

3. Ragtime

4. Pennies from Heaven

5. Chariots of Fire

The Lowdown: With Indy's fedora left off the dais, it's a contest between the period work of Reds and the period work of The French Lieutenant's Woman (don't look at me like that-I have at least one contemporary film on the list currently for the My Ballot...it's Oscar that never goes there).  Of the two, I go with Reds because I think it is more consistent overall.  There's more care put into French Lieutenant's when it comes to the period stuff than the modern scenes, and Ragtime behind it doesn't break the mold in the way that the of-the-people looks in Reds achieve.

Film Editing

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. Reds

3. The French Lieutenant's Woman

4. Chariots of Fire

5. On Golden Pond

The Lowdown: Again, another Raiders & Reds contest (our final one), with everyone else just getting the scraps.  I think the editing exhibits why these two tower above.  Raiders is fast-paced, effortlessly so in a way that makes every scene feel timeless (which, after nearly 45 years of existence, it really is), while Reds gets a slow-burn, us investing continually as the movie finds its own romance.  The timelessness wins it for Raiders, though (kudos also to French Lieuentant's for working so well with the time jumps).

Makeup

1. An American Werewolf in London

2. Heartbeeps

The Lowdown: We have a pair of two-wide races to complete this year's Oscar's, starting with Makeup (for the record, both of these categories I'll go five-wide when I pick my personal choices).  This was the first year of the Best Makeup category, and they did something that would become commonplace at the Oscars: nominating Rick Baker (the maestro behind An American in Werewolf) and giving the title of "Oscar-nominated" to a truly heinous movie.  There are few films as bad as Heartbeeps, but what's worse is the makeup in it is bizarrely lazy, particularly when you had much better options nominated in 1981 (it's just Bernadette Peters & Andy Kaufman covered in a plastic sheen).  Conversely, An American Werewolf is one of the best achievements of Rick Baker's career, so an easy call for him to take this.

Visual Effects

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark

2. Dragonslayer

The Lowdown: A second category that is only two-wide, we have two films competing against each other in another lopsided victory where I definitely go with Oscar's choice.  At this point, anything George Lucas or Steven Spielberg were creating was foundational to the future of blockbuster cinema, and Raiders is a genius use of practical and special effects, particularly the face-melting scene when they open the Ark.  Dragonslayer, though, unlike Heartbeeps is a genuinely quality product and earned this spot (and will likely make my My Ballot as well for its great use of the imposing dragon in the picture).

Past Oscar Viewing Projects: 1931-32, 1948, 1957, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024

OVP: Absence of Malice (1981)

Film: Absence of Malice (1981)

Stars: Paul Newman, Sally Field, Bob Balaban, Melinda Dillon, Wilford Brimley

Director: Sydney Pollack

Oscar History: 3 nominations (Best Actor-Paul Newman, Supporting Actress-Melinda Dillon, Original Screenplay)

Snap Judgment Ranking: 2/5 stars

Each month, as part of our 2024 Saturdays with the Stars series, we are looking at the women who were once crowned as "America's Sweethearts" and the careers that inspired that title (and what happened when they eventually lost it to a new generation).  This month, our focus is on Sally Field: click here to learn more about Ms. Field (and why I picked her), and click here for other Saturdays with the Stars articles.

During the early 1980's, Sally Field became what she'd clearly always dreamed of becoming: a serious actress.  We talked last week about Norma Rae, the movie that launched her onto this platform, and won her her first Oscar, against actresses like Jane Fonda & Jill Clayburgh who were taken more seriously than the former Flying Nun.  Field kept the pedal-to-the-medal on trying to change her image in the coming years, appearing in commercial fare (Hooper, Smokey and the Bandit II), movies that upended her cutesy image like the hard-swearing Black Roads with Tommy Lee Jones, and more dramatic roles.  She would win a second Academy Award for her work in Places in the Heart in 1984, when she'd infamously utter the lines "right now...you like me!"...lines that would come to haunt her & in many ways underline the spunky actress she was trying to shed.  During this time, one of the dramatic films that she made was Absence of Malice, a serious film starring one of the biggest names of the era, and a guy who (unlike Field) was still in the hunt for his first Oscar: Paul Newman.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie follows newspaper reporter Megan Carter (Field), who is given a tip from Rosen (Balaban), who works in the US Attorney's office that they are investigating liquor wholesaler Michael Gallagher (Newman) for the disappearance of labor leader Joey Diaz (never seen, but if you can't tell they're making him seem like a Jimmy Hoffa-type figure during this time frame, you need to study your history more).  Carter publishes this based on a file on Rosen's desk, which was clearly planted for her to publish, but it upends Gallagher's life.  They don't actually have any evidence of the connection, but with the paper now saying "he's connected," he can't get out of it.  Gallagher is the son of a former crime boss, but is generally living a clean life...until Carter forces him to act dirty.  This comes to a head when Teresa Perrone (Dillon) provides an alibi for him-that he was taking her to a doctor to have an abortion.  But Perrone is devoutly Catholic, and when Carter's bosses insist they have to publish her name & that she had an abortion, Perrone kills herself.  This sets off a chain-of-events where Gallagher shows he learned something from his father, using a romantic relationship with Carter and implicit bribery of a US Attorney to get off...and to get their careers fried in the process.

Absence of Malice sounds better than it actually is when I describe it above.  It reads like an ambitious, greedy reporter wanting to make a name for herself, who sacrifices her soul and in the process has a man who had lived an honorable life go back to his criminal roots to punish her and those around her who destroyed the life of Teresa, the only truly innocent person in the picture.  That's not what it is though.  The writers desperately want us to care about the romantic relationship between Field & Newman, but you don't...because you realize that Megan is not a good person, even if she's played as bubbly & sweet in Field's hands.  The film could've ended on Megan admitting she was involved with Gallagher but knew nothing about him, but instead ends on a conversation between the two, potentially setting up a reconciliation.  But why?  They should hate each other, particularly him hate her...what's there, given so much of what came before was fake?

This hurts the performances.  Field is badly miscast here .  Field was in that "I can do anything" part of her career in 1981, but she is not right for this-you need an actress who can play fragile-but-brittle, and she is not a brittle performer (you kind of think someone like Susan Sarandon might've been better off with this part).  Newman is better, but again-this is a great character until the writers come in the way (you see hints of what might've been decades later when Newman would play a similar character in Road to Perdition), and you feel like you only get half a performance.  Melinda Dillon got her second-and-final Oscar nomination for her work here, and she does create a shadow over the film (her confession scene, where she tries to convince Megan not to publish that she had an abortion, knowing that she'll end up killing herself if she does but not having the guts to say it, is really well-done); again, though, much of the work in the back-half of the film takes air out of her performance by cheapening it.  Wilford Brimley, honestly, is pretty good in his one extended scene, giving the film some life, but at that point, it's too late-the script has already wrecked the promising premise.

OVP: Supporting Actor (2002)

OVP: Best Supporting Actor (2002)

The Nominees Were...

Chris Cooper, Adaptation

Ed Harris, The Hours

Paul Newman, Road to Perdition

John C. Reilly, Chicago

Christopher Walken, Catch Me If You Can

My Thoughts: We are heading into the home stretch of 2002 today with the Best Supporting Actor field and the start of the Big 6.  This field featured five white, middle-to-late aged men, four of whom were/are noted character actors and the fifth being one of the most iconic movie stars of all-time, an actor getting the only supporting nomination of his career.  Don't feel bad for him, though, as Newman would amass ten nominations in his long career so we'll be discussing him for a while in this series...this is also the latest of four nominations for Ed Harris so we're starting our discussion of him as well.  So to kick us off, though, let's look at an actor who got his only nomination (to date) that managed to also snag him a trophy.

Chris Cooper's performance is kind of extraordinary, both because it should be a caricature (it's not even clear at first if it's written intending to be a caricature), and it's so multi-layered.  I loved the way that he indulges celebrity in the character, the idea of being famous being a perverse thrill for all of us, having us be found interesting enough to write an article about or for the public to ask us a series of questions...even the most mundane can find that intoxicating, and he brings that to life.  I will say, though Cage gets the worst of it, some of the meta-focuses in the center cost him slightly (no one does a great job of bringing that to life), but this is easily the longtime screen presence's best work.

John C. Reilly was having a remarkable year in 2002.  It sometimes gets lost in supporting nominations that the nomination is not "just" for that performance, but for their career or the year they've had, but Reilly wasn't just in Chicago, but also in Gangs of New York and The Hours (gaining him the rare distinction of an actor who appeared in three Best Picture nominees in one year), and had been doing bravura work for Paul Thomas Anderson for a while.  But OVP rules clearly state that we only award for the performance at hand, and with Chicago's Amos, that's just okay.  This performance feels a bit one-note, and while "Mr. Cellophane" is a good number (he can sing), it's nowhere near the most memorable in the film.  Amos is meant to be forgotten in the script, and it's hard to imagine him being remembered here had Reilly not had the year he'd had in 2002.

Paul Newman's work in Road to Perdition is inarguably the last great performance of one of the Golden Age's final movie stars (I don't believe in the concept of the "final movie star" because every few years that crown gets handed down, but in terms of Golden Age, Studio System stars...Newman's one of the final ones).  This is bravura stuff-he plays a man who has lived by a unique criminal code that shapes his worldview.  He understands the worthlessness of his son, but the point-of-pride that comes with knowing that he's his son, and there's that great monologue at the end with Tom Hanks where he said "no one here will see heaven" that just chills.  Proof that decades in the spotlight never totally get rid of the thespian within.

Ed Harris's work in The Hours is not for everyone, and there was a time that this performance might have aged in a different direction than me.  Everything about The Hours is hyper-stylized, and Harris might be pitching the most to the rafters of the bunch.  But watching this through the years, I've found that it works better the further you go into the film, particularly when you know his character's fate.  Playing a man who was a noted writer, but had a novel that was ill-received despite high expectations, Harris is a man adrift, knowing that AIDS is going to ensure that his chapter in life is about to be over.  The way he plays off of Streep is marvelous-every sentence feels like it's cutting through the air in the final scene, not just of her Clarissa, but also of everything we've seen before us, the ways we hang onto the best parts of our lives even when they've become antiques in our memories...it's beautiful work.

Our final nomination is Christopher Walken.  Walken is an odd actor when it comes to Oscar because (to date-he's still working regularly at the age of 79), he's only been nominated twice, including his initial win for The Deer Hunter.  His work here is a slightly odd fit, as he's not a big part of this movie, and it's hard not to notice it feels like an "old age" citation even though he wasn't even sixty when this was released.  But he does provide a sentimental heart to the film, one that DiCaprio infuses in the later scenes, sort of projecting on what you know is coming, and he's winning even if he's not lifting any major acting muscles here.  Sometimes adding a pleasant note to the film is what you're supposed to do as an actor.  I don't know if that's Oscar-worthy, but it's important to make your movie work.

Other Precursor Contenders: The Globes gave their statue to Chris Cooper atop Harris, Newman, Reilly, and Dennis Quaid (Far from Heaven), while BAFTA favored Walken against Cooper, Harris, Newman, and Alfred Molina (Frida).  SAG also picked Walken, with Cooper, Harris, Molina, & Quaid the nominees.  This puts you in a quandary when it comes to who was in sixth place, as Molina & Quaid strike very similar profiles.  Both were nominated for two precursors, both were in Best Actress-cited films that did well in the tech categories, and both were trying to get what might've been their only real shot at a nomination (both still work today, but neither have been nominated for an Oscar yet).  The Weinstein factor probably means I should pick Molina, but I'm going to guess it was Quaid, mostly because Quaid was also getting good notices for The Rookie in 2002, which was a surprise hit for Disney that spring and marked a proper comeback arch for the star who'd just been through a very messy public divorce.

Performances I Would Have Nominated: I don't entirely know how to categorize Andy Serkis, and I'm never entirely sure if voiceover performances are deemed eligible by the Academy.  But what he does here is remarkable-we have been quoting and mirroring Gollum for a reason, and his work here basically became the prototype for how motion-capture performances were done in the decades to come.  That deserved some sort of prize.

Oscar’s Choice: Walken & Cooper were in a close race, and Walken definitely was closing well in 2002, but Cooper ultimately picked up the trophy in the "Battle of the Chris's."

My Choice: I'm going to go with Paul Newman, who is giving some of the best work of his career here, and does a good job of trading on his movie star persona while also just giving great acting.  Ed Harris (silver) and Chris Cooper (bronze) would've made worthy winners, and picking between them would've been so hard that I'm glad Newman is my easy out here.  Walken and then Reilly bring up the back.

Those are my thoughts-what are yours?  Do you side with Oscar's choice of Mr. Cooper, or do you want to join me celebrating Paul Newman?  Why do you think actors like Christopher Walken go such long stints without Oscar remembering that they're a fan?  And who was in sixth place-Molina or Quaid?  Share your thoughts below in the comments!

Also in 2002: Adapted Screenplay, Original Screenplay, Foreign Language Film, Animated Feature Film, Sound Mixing, Sound Editing, Original Score, Original Song, Art Direction, Cinematography, Costume, Film Editing, Visual Effects, Makeup, Previously in 2002

Past Best Supporting Actor Contests: 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020

Torn Curtain (1966)

Film: Torn Curtain (1966)

Stars: Paul Newman, Julie Andrews, Lila Kedrova, Hansjorg Felmy, Tamara Toumanova

Director: Alfred Hitchcock

Oscar History: No nominations

Snap Judgment Ranking: 2/5 stars

Each month, as part of our 2021 Saturdays with the Stars series, we highlight a different one Alfred Hitchcock's Leading Ladies.  This month, our focus is on Julie Andrews-click here to learn more about Ms. Andrews (and why I picked her), and click here for other Saturdays with the Stars articles.

Yesterday we kicked off our month devoted to Julie Andrews (click the link above for more, you know the drill), but while we usually talk about in our first article how a star became famous, Andrews' origin story might be one of the most well-known in Hollywood history, so this is probably a tale you already recall.  For the unfamiliar, after being a sensation in both television (Cinderella was seen by over 100 million people when it was broadcast by CBS in 1957) and theater (both The Boy Friend and My Fair Lady were absolute smashes), Andrews turned her eyes to Hollywood.  Initially she assumed she'd be cast as Eliza Doolittle in the big-screen adaptation of My Fair Lady, but that didn't happen as Jack Warner wanted a bigger star (Audrey Hepburn) to lead the movie, so instead she made her debut in Mary Poppins, which won her the Best Actress Oscar (Hepburn wasn't even nominated).  There was no sophomore slump for Andrews-the next two years she made the highest-grossing film of both 1965 (The Sound of Music) and 1966 (Hawaii). So at the point Andrews teamed up with Hitchcock (who did not want her initially for the part-he favored Eva Marie Saint) she was basically Hollywood's box office insurance policy, not just having yet to make a flop, but she was basically the monetary guarantee that someone like Dwayne Johnson is today.  As a result, Hitchcock was required by Universal to put Andrews in his picture (coming full circle on the Eliza Doolittle situation), which brings us to Torn Curtain.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie takes place in the mid-1960's, where Dr. Michael Armstrong (Newman) is on a secret mission in Copenhagen where he receives covert instructions to contact π if he gets into trouble.  Armstrong is defecting to the Soviet Union, much to the shock of his fiancee Sarah (Andrews), who follows him to the Soviet Union & is then pressured to also defect, except she assumes this to be legitimate.  It turns out that Armstrong is trying to learn secret anti-missile secrets from the Soviets, and when he does he is found out, with the Soviets intending to kill both he & Sarah before they can flee back to the United States with this information.  π ends up being a group of people that use a decoy bus to get people out of the country, and with the help of this organization (and Lila Kedrova in a cameo as an exiled Polish countess), the two flee to America, their romance renewed & America stronger for another day.

The film itself, despite its relatively twisty plot, reads as pretty straightforward when you're watching it. Part of the problem is that it doesn't feel like it has a lot of Hitchcock's best flourishes.  It still looks great (beautiful stars, glamorous hotels...there's definitely a polish there), but it doesn't have the artistry that Hitchcock's films were known for.  I know we're cheating a bit by not featuring more of Hitchcock's greatest films (1954-64 is generally considered to be when he made his best pictures), as the confines of the rules of this series (I only watch "new to me" films) hurts that cause since I've seen virtually all of Hitchcock's films in that era, so we aren't going to focus on him in his glory, but as it's October (the year is winding down) we shouldn't forget that Hitchcock never really stopped making movies, even when the public started to lose interest.  Torn Curtain was not, as some describe it, a flop (it was a minor hit, though nowhere near the success of Psycho or The Birds), but it definitely represents a different era of creativity from Hitchcock.  I have not seen any film he made after this (we'll get to all of the rest of them in December), but I will admit this feels listless in the way some of the "director for hire" work we've been seeing Hitchcock made in Sunday Leftovers did, rather than peak creativity like he had just a few years earlier.

Part of the problem, I'm sorry to say, is the leads.  I love Paul Newman & Julie Andrews-both brilliant actors, I'd give them both Oscars at points in their careers-truly great stars.  But they don't work well together-there's not a lot of chemistry between Andrews' bright-and-bouncy screen aura & Newman's sex-driven, sensitive soul.  Andrews in general is not a great fit for Hitchcock.  I think the logic here must have been "Doris Day made it work, why can't Julie Andrews?" but that doesn't pan out-Andrews onscreen persona did eventually shift, but in the 1960's there was too much money to be had from not breaking it, and the character here doesn't really warrant it.  As a result, Andrews feels tonally out of place, and this is the rare dud for me from our Star of the Month.  Next week, though, we'll be getting into one of Andrews' most successful pictures, and a movie far more in her natural wheelhouse.

OVP: Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

Film: Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

Stars: Paul Newman, Geraldine Page, Shirley Knight, Ed Begley, Rip Torn, Mildred Dunnock, Madeleine Sherwood

Director: Richard Brooks

Oscar History: 3 nominations/1 win (Best Actress-Geraldine Page, Supporting Actor-Ed Begley*, Supporting Actress-Shirley Knight)

Snap Judgment Ranking: 4/5 stars

We live in a world where remakes fall like rain onto our cinemas.  It's near impossible to find a property that isn't being redone, remade, & updated for a new generation.  Even pictures once considered hallowed, impossible ground like West Side Story are getting a new look.  But for some reason, one of the more obvious choices for remakes has not been happening on the big-screen: the plays of Tennessee Williams.  These are well-known properties (certainly in the same way that A Star is Born is), ones that are regularly brought back to Broadway, but they aren't getting a new generation of considerations from modern directors.  This is a pity, because the works of Tennessee Williams are not just timeless, they're also stories that weren't able to be as shocking as the original source material (which dealt frankly with sex & sexuality) due to the Hays Code in the 1950's & 60's.  A perfect example of this is Sweet Bird of Youth.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie follows Chance Wayne (Newman), a once golden boy of St. Cloud, Mississippi, who shows up in town in a fancy car with flashy money alongside an aging film star Alexandra del Lago (Page...who true to form for Hollywood is just one year older than Newman in real life).  Chance is trying to trick Alexandra into giving him a film contract, but she's on the run from a failed comeback bid, and doesn't feel she has anything to lose in associating with a clear gigolo.  Meanwhile, Chance is also trying to connect with Heavenly (Knight), his childhood sweetheart whom he's still in love with, much to the chagrin of her father Boss Finley (Begley), a local powerbroker who puts a hit out on Chance.  It turns out when Chance left town last searching for fame & fortune, he left behind a knocked-up Heavenly, who then had an abortion which left her infertile.  Boss Finley wants revenge, so Chance is trying to leave town again with Alexandra...but then she gets a call that tells her her comeback was a triumph, giving her her career back.  Now with something to lose, Alexandra refuses to honor her contract with Chance, insisting that she'll take him on but only as her assistant & lover.  Chance, despite facing likely death, refuses, and goes to meet Heavenly, who forgives him for leaving her & they run off together, with Boss Finley left agog at losing his only daughter to such a man.

Like all of Williams' films, this is a highly-stylized form of acting, the kind you need to have a high tolerance for if you're going to muscle through it (if you aren't a fan of melodramas, this is going to be where you tap out).  But I generally love Williams' plays, and this is no exception.  I think few authors have done a better job of not only talking about loss, but about the things we all lose-love, sex, youth.  There's something haunting about watching beautiful Paul Newman being read by everyone in town.  He bet hard on himself, and it cost him-he is never going to be the golden boy again, and he has squandered that status.  If you're past the age of 28, you've had that moment-where you think about things that not only you didn't do, but the unfairness of regret in that you know now how you'd handle it in retrospect.

The film won three Oscar nominations, each with varying degrees of success.  Page, who is not my favorite as a general rule, owns the screen here.  This is the best thing I've ever seen from her, and it's wonderful because she's so out of place compared to everyone around her.  For starters, she's actually gotten the brass ring, and squandered it-that's something Chance never got the opportunity to have, and in a true moment of unfairness that plays marvelously, she gets a second chance when her comeback attempt is a smash success while he never has one.  Based off of Tallulah Bankhead (who was friends with Williams in real life), Page nails this sort of "life cannot touch me" part with real gusto.  The only bummer about this part is that she barely shares the screen with her-then lover Rip Torn, who is far sexier than I realized he'd be circa 1962 (he did not age like Paul Newman, let's put it that way).

The same can be said for both the winning Begley and the not-nominated Newman.  Begley is fascinating in a side part, taking on the type of role that Burl Ives played in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof of someone who, like Alexandra, has had a gifted life, and who therefore doesn't think the world can truly touch him.  He owns every scene, and not only does he own it, but he also imbues it with a sense of history-we know that he's been torturing this town for years, and running it with a tyrannical fist.  Why Newman, a year after his second Oscar nomination, couldn't get a citation for a fully-fledged, totally real Chance is beyond me...perhaps jealousy over his beauty (or perhaps homophobia since reading-between-the-lines you get the strong sense that Chance is more Tab Hunter than Robert Redford in terms of golden boys).

The only nomination I don't understand is Shirley Knight's.  Knight is a good actress, perhaps one that leans into theatrical more than necessary in her later work, but a good actress nonetheless.  But as written, her Heavenly is a bore, and inconsistent from scene-to-scene, never really knowing what she wants.  This might read correctly in theory (a rich young woman who has never had to make a decision before will struggle with a big one against her father's wishes), but it doesn't play that way in the film.  She's not even the best supporting actress in the film-Madeleine Sherwood as Boss Finlay's battered lover is far more knowing than Knight is to her part.

OVP: Paris Blues (1961)

Film: Paris Blues (1961)
Stars: Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, Sidney Poitier, Diahann Carroll, Louis Armstrong
Director: Martin Ritt
Oscar History: 1 nomination (Best Scoring)
Snap Judgment Ranking: 2/5 stars

This week for our review theme we're focusing on movies that were Oscar-nominated for their music in some capacity.  Today we're venturing into the early 1960's, with Martin Ritt doing one of his less memorable outings with Paul Newman.  The film, despite the blockbuster cast (look at that call sheet!) is not really remembered for anything at all today, and in 1961 the film itself wasn't really noteworthy for anything either.  It wasn't the mammoth hit that The Hustler was for Newman that same year, and so if it's noted for anything today, it's for its nominated score, which of course we'll get to, but first let's talk about a pretty drab movie that common sense would dictate would be more famous than it is simply because of its four leads.

(Spoilers Ahead) The film is about two Americans living in Paris named Ram (Newman) and Eddie (Poitier).  They are musicians who work at a Paris hotspot, and Ram meets Connie (Carroll), whom he is initially quite infatuated with, but she's not having it; however, her friend Lillian (Woodward) is smitten and insists that they go to the club.  Quickly the couples pair off-Ram & Lillian in their own storyline, Eddie & Connie in theirs.  Lillian & Ram are focused on commitment-she wants to settle down, but he struggles with this & wants to continue seeing if he can be a truly great musician, while Eddie refuses to go back to America with Connie because he doesn't see the opportunities there for a black man that he can receive in France in the 1960's.  The film continues with one of the jazz musicians (Eddie) giving up his life here to pursue love with the woman he's met, while the other (Ram) admitting that he isn't ready to give up on his dream to go after Lillian, and deciding to stay in Paris.

There's so much about Paris Blues that should work.  The acting is great (I will admit right now that I don't love Joanne Woodward in most things, this included, but the other three leads are strong), and the cinematography is superb.  You get to see Paris as if it's almost in frozen photographs, it's so crisp and period-specific.  But the script doesn't have any urgency, and it shies away from the most obvious thing to a modern audience-Paul Newman's Ram should definitely be dating Diahann Carroll's Connie, not the stoic Lillian.

You almost get that-there's an opening scene where Ram is trying to pick a surprised Connie up, essentially dismissing the idea of her white roommate in favor of him dating her.  This is, quite honestly, a better movie.  Forgetting that Woodward & Newman have minimal chemistry in this film (like I said-Woodward doesn't seem to get her character here and underplays her), it would have made for a more interesting tale if it was Carroll's uptight Connie with Newman's rascally Ram, and then have Poitier's stoic Eddie having complicated conversations about racism with Woodward's Lillian.  This is, according to interviews Poitier would do later, what the filmmakers initially wanted to try with the movie, but the censors wouldn't have it.  As a result, you get a pretty lazy read on an interesting quartet of figures, despite the actors largely doing their part to keep us intrigued.

The film's score isn't classic jazz in the sense that it feels fresh for the era, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its moments or have a legendary source.  It just sort of gets lost in the picture, and doesn't feel as innovative as you'd expect both considering the context of the film and in particular the composer.  Paris Blues stands apart as the only Oscar nomination that Duke Ellington would ever win (the film would lose to West Side Story).  Like so much of Paris Blues, the songs in the film are competent but disappoint, clearly having the makings of some better sound that might have come to light in a better movie.

OVP: The Verdict (1982)

Film: The Verdict (1982)
Stars: Paul Newman, Charlotte Rampling, Jack Warden, James Mason, Milo O'Shea
Director: Sidney Lumet
Oscar History: 5 nominations (Best Picture, Director, Actor-Paul Newman, Supporting Actor-James Mason, Adapted Screenplay)
Snap Judgment Ranking: 4/5 stars

If you look hard enough, the guy in the tan suit & striped tie in the top right
next to the woman with the perm is a very famous future movie star-
do you know who it is?

Few film genres were destroyed more resoundingly by television than the courtroom drama.  In fact, I'm still kind of stunned when a movie like Just Mercy shows up in theaters as it feels like a western or musical randomly getting a retread.  Television almost completely took over the genre, with everything from Perry Mason to Law & Order to NCIS picking up the pieces of a legal drama.  Films of this genre almost always feel worn or tired at this point, as a result, and when I recently caught a classic in the genre, The Verdict, it was a struggle to get by this genre bias, even as it was apparent that this was a quality film.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie focuses on Frank Galvin (Newman), a largely disgraced attorney who was once accused of jury tampering, in the twilight of his career.  He's an alcoholic ambulance chaser, someone who barely makes rent, and is given a bone when he is sent a medical malpractice case by his friend Mickey (Warden) that seems certain to settle out of court (read: an easy payday).  Frank, though, wants to take the case to court, and refuses the out-of-court settlement (to the chagrin of the victims' relatives), and has to go toe-to-toe with the hospital's legal defense team, headed by Ed Concannon (Mason), a cutthroat lawyer.  The case then follows as Concannon's team goes to great lengths (scaring off witnesses and hiring a woman, Laura, played by Rampling, to seduce Frank & feed him information).  In the end, though, a nurse that had been on-duty confesses that the hospital had put the patient under anesthesia even though she had recently eaten, thus causing her current medical predicament.  Frank wins the case, and is left wondering whether or not his relationship with Laura is worth saving.

The Verdict gains its reputation not necessarily from the uniqueness of its plot, but the quality in which it's executed.  This is, in fact, considerably better than you'd expect from even the best Law & Order episodes because it explores the soul of some of these characters.  Newman is fantastic in the lead role as Frank.  This was during the period where everyone was sort of wondering if Newman, a decades-long Hollywood favorite, would ever get to win his competitive Oscar (spoiler alert: he would, four years later, but this year he'd be bested by Ben Kingsley), and it's easy to see why such scuttle continued with a performance this solid.  Newman's work here is grounded in not making the alcoholism Frank's totality, but part of his life.  He's a high-functioning alcoholic-he's had a dwindling career, but he's still kept his career.  Newman makes that a side effect of his life, just sitting there on the outskirts, creeping in when he needs it not to the most.  It's great acting from a champion performer.

The film won three other nominations other than its Best Picture/Actor credentials, and all of them are well-earned.  Lumet's direction is succinct, rarely giving us a shot that isn't carefully-framed, while the script is brilliant, filled with strong speeches from Newman & Mason, as well as almost no scenes that are out-of-place (I'm shocked the editing wasn't nominated).  The relationship between Newman and Rampling doesn't quite gel properly, though to no fault of either actor (I don't know if I'd have nominated Rampling or not for this-I'd need to explore the year more-and she's one of my favorite performers, but there's something off in their chemistry, him too fire and her too ice).  James Mason was correctly cited for the film, and unlike Newman, would never win an Academy Award; he would die less than two years after the release of The Verdict.  This is a proper epitaph to the actor, though, with his distinctive voice ringing not just alongside a truly villainous character, but one who is a reminder of the audience's culpability in assuming authority is usually looking out for its best interests.  The Verdict succeeds because it finds a way to not just show an underdog tale, but why underdog tales are important in the first place.