My Thoughts: And we have finally hit the end of the road for the 2011 Oscars. This won't necessarily be our last discussion of 2011. As I've gone along, I've added multiple precursor films to my Netflix list, and when I revisit any of our discussed nominated films I reserve the right to fully review the films, though my official selections, much like the Academy's, are set in stone. That's part of the point of this project-people complain about the Academy's decisions to not give Citizen Kane Best Picture or to never give Peter O'Toole an acting Oscar, but that's because hindsight is 20/20. While I can't travel back in time and make these decisions as the films are happening (yet-Apple's probably working on an app for that right now, though, so cross your fingers), this is about as close to a recreation of the "hindsight is 20/20" as I can get. And so, it's time to add one last winner to the 2011 roundup, and we'll start with the film we've most discussed in this project, Hugo.
Martin Scorsese, Woody Allen, and Steven Spielberg are arguably the three directors who have contributed the most to the zeitgeist of film in the past forty years (throw out the names you'd replace them with in the comments-that's what they're there for). It seems odd that this is the year that all three managed to get a Best Picture nomination at the same time, as none of them are really focusing on the subjects that made them supremely famous in the first place. Spielberg's film is not a fantasy adventure, Woody's not in New York, and Marty's film could not have less to do with crime and the mob. And yet, you have to stop and admire the fact that all three men (the youngest of which is 65) are still able to make such a mark on cinema decades after they became global icons of quality that they can receive Best Picture nominations.
We've discussed Scorsese's film to death in these articles, from almost every angle, but there's a reason that we've done that-there's a lot of strength in this film. Martin Scorsese doesn't make a shoddy picture-he's a man of meticulous detail, and one of the things to deeply admire about the film is that Scorsese gives it a unique vision. It's not his best work, and it's not the best of this field, but that's not to say it's not a fun picture-it's one that I would readily recommend to anyone who asks about the film. Part of the problem with the film is that you can see what Scorsese was going for-he's trying to make a cherished film about the wonders of childhood, and that's not what he's able to pull off with this movie. All the elements are there, but in order to make a film like The Wizard of Oz, you have to everything pulled off flawlessly, and there are just too many storylines, too many missteps (once again, Sacha Baron Cohen, ladies and gentlemen) to have an indisputable masterpiece for children. It's a film that will likely become a part of many people's holiday traditions (it's got that Christmas vibe to it, though I don't recall anything distinctly Christmas-y in the film), and it's a film that will be fun to revisit, but it's not a masterpiece.
Neither, I should say, is Steven Spielberg's War Horse, though again, I should say that there's the ingredients to make it one. Unlike Scorsese, Spielberg has captured childhood wonder in the form of a near-perfect film, but Spielberg has long since grown up, for better or for worse. I'm not sure if Spielberg is just going for John Ford's record, or if he has lost interest in the Sci-Fi genre, but wouldn't it be spectacular if he tried to do a film like Close Encounters or Jurassic Park again-good, strong popcorn fun that ends up being a true classic? However, instead we are treated to a series of handsome, "important" films that are entertaining, but don't have that spark that made us fall in love with Spielberg in the first place. However, Spielberg films always have something extra about them-that intangible sense of heightened adventure-he brings us along for the ride more than most directors seem capable of doing. At its best, War Horse is doing that for us-the run through the war fields is by far the best scene in the movie, and it is one of those jaw-dropping moments where you can feel the wind and the sounds so fully you are immersed in this world. It's trademark Spielberg, but it's something that lacks in the film's non-action sequences, and in particular the scenes with the French girl-I felt like this was a bit slow and while pretty, not very interesting. It doesn't help that the source material is pretty slight for such a big film-for those that have seen this play at Lincoln Center, you'd have to agree that while the enormous production and in the case of the play, the spectacular puppet-work, make both film and stage a worthwhile platform, the actual plot is too narrow to stretch over two or three hours.
Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris is the third of the three films that I think has that "masterpiece" potential, but doesn't quite deliver on that promise. Woody's film's problem is that it falls sucker to its own premise. One of my best friends is a Woody Allen enthusiast of the highest order, so I'm aware that I may be falling into one of those "Woody did this on-purpose" sort of discussion traps, but since the entire point of the film is that nostalgia romanticizes the past to the point of non-reality, it seems weird that the scenes in the 1920's and during the Belle Epoque are far, far more interesting than the modern day portion of the movie. I love the idea of the bumbling detective, and the "What the hell?!? Is that Carla Bruni?!?" moments were fun, but overall the modern-day elements of the film were lacking (in particular, strong actors like Michael Sheen and Rachel McAdams were just plain bad in their roles), and though Woody films oftentimes seem a little out-of-the-blue, the random romance with a bit part shopgirl seemed like a particularly cheap ploy. I know that in the Best Director write-up I wrote that this was a particularly sharp metaphor, and from a writing standpoint it's an interesting commentary, but it's also a double-edged sword-it may be clever, but it also makes the film uneven, and when you're competing to be the best of the best pictures, I've got to dock some points.
The Artist is the film that I had the most trouble with in these write-ups. When I was writing, I ended up falling less and less enchanted with it, and it may have been that it was simply nominated too often or at least in the wrong categories. It's not a bad movie, and I want to be very clear about that (as we're going to hit a couple of bad movies in a few paragraphs, and I want to ensure that the distinction has been made). It is a film that's not the masterpiece that it (and some critics) claim it to be, however. I don't even quibble with the Best Picture nomination, though it doesn't deserve it, because Silent Era films are an art-form that should get a revival of sorts in the cinema, and are a terrific way of telling stories. But it doesn't have much to say outside of that gimmick. The movie knows a lot about silent comedies, and there are bits of the film that are supremely fun to watch (the coat rack scene and the constant Dujardin mugging come to mind), but that doesn't make a great movie, and the plot and story arch in the film are too simple and not strongly executed enough to be considered one of the best films of the year, and certainly are not enough to warrant the praise the film received. A film like Casablanca is simple and classic, but it also has literally every single one of its engines-writing, directing, acting, music-running at full throttle. The Artist doesn't do that, and while I will readily admit that it's a fun movie (and like Hugo, one I would recommend seeing), this isn't a discussion of the film versus itself-it's a discussion of the film versus every movie of 2011, and that's a conversation in which it just can't compete.
Moneyball is in a similar situation (before we dig in-note that Brad Pitt is amongst the nominees for producing this film, so he did have two chances to win this past year). Moneyball, in Aaron Sorkin's hands, is a much better film than it should be-the movie should be bogged down in technical jargon and baseball "come-from-behind" cliches, but Sorkin manages to somewhat lift that stain with a deft script. Bennett Miller also deserves some credit-not just for hiring a technical team that is way better than the subject demands (it's a sports movie, after all-why does it need such sharp sound mixing?), but also for his decisions to focus less on what is on the field than what is going on to make the field play happen. Brad Pitt, so handsome and with a well-practiced charm, is another highlight that will help this film have a strong video shelf life. All of that is to say the film could have been a lot worse, but it's still not so good as to compete with the best films of the year. The film does fall into cliches, even if the script tries not to steer into them. It's hard to imagine a sports film without any sort of victory (and it is based on a true story, which hinders the writer), but we could have been spared the long speeches and the constant underdog reminders. Overall, a film I liked way, way better than I imagined I would, but it still doesn't quite get me to that "Oscar" place.
The Help is also a film that relies on cliches, but it does it in a format that we haven't always been (macho, come-from-behind sports films are really all that genre seems to offer), so it gets a little more of a pass. This is a film that does have people making a stand, but it does it in a nearly all-female cast, something that we rarely get to see on-screen, and something I emphatically root for in the future. The movie does have its problems-Bryce Dallas Howard's character seems a bit over-the-top, even if her ugly prejudices sadly were shared by people of her time, and the film never quite knows what to do with Emma Stone's character (is she a civil rights activist or simply an aspiring writer that stumbled across a great narrative-who can tell?), but we have three excellent performances from Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer, and Jessica Chastain, and the film flies by-there's also something to be said for seeing a film in theaters (and though I will hardly be able to make this claim for other years, I saw all nine of these in theaters), as the audience reaction probably gave me a bit of a boost in my judgment of this film. However, this film, while too rosy in its critiques of a very serious time in US History, manages to hold its entertainment value through its strong visual element and its three top tier performances even when you're watching at home alone, eating anything but a chocolate pie.
The Descendants, like The Artist, is a film that hasn't gotten a welcome banner in my treatment of it, and I have to say that while The Artist may have lost a few notches in my estimation because of the critics collective orgasm over it (though I do stand by all of my nitpicking of it), The Descendants would still be a dull and lifeless movie even if it hadn't been noticed by any awards bodies. It seems weird to write such things about a director I so fervently admire like Payne, but the movie is a big miss (whatever our occupation, we all have them), and it doesn't seem to know what direction it's taking. Clooney's novocaine performance doesn't help, and neither do the "stock" characters that seem to interact with him on a regular basis (and, once more for those sitting in the back, this is said with the exception of Judy Greer). Overall, this made me wish that Payne would return to the deeply imperfect characters of Sideways and Election and visit the beautiful islands of Hawaii on his own time.
Stephen Daldry's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close is the film that we've least discussed, and for obvious reasons-this was one of its only two nominations. With the new "how many nominees will there be?" sort of system that I've made my peace with but am not a huge fan of, this was definitely a shock nomination and the one that raised the most eyebrows on nomination morning.
Unlike the other eight films that we've discussed so in-depth, I'm going to give a quick synopsis of the movie since we haven't become very well acquainted with the film prior to this write-up. It's about a boy in New York who loses his father in the 9/11 attacks, and the film alternates between months after the attacks and the day of the attacks. The film is make-or-break for you depending on how you react to Thomas Horn's performance as a potentially-autistic (the film never really says) boy who tries to track down a bunch of clues that he thinks his father has left for him after his death. This is where the film got me first-I couldn't stand Horn's performance. It's difficult to be mean to younger actors, but his performance was too braying and abrasive to ever be completely believable-it's hard to imagine random strangers opening up to him, which is the entire premise of the film. The movie's manipulative nature also was a bit hard-to-swallow too-I felt that the movie was daring us to defy Horn's character, and the cutesy way that every clue seemed to fall right into place without much work on the part of Horn's character. And while I'm aware that it's based on a book (that I haven't read), it also seems as if the 9/11 backdrop was added more as a ploy for an Oscar than as an integral part of the story. I've read some critics say that there should never be films about the tragic events of that day, which I disagree with (films have a way of telling stories that other mediums can't, and you should never try and limit that), but this film's use of the events seemed to be handled without much care. I will end with something nice to say, that Max von Sydow, Viola Davis, and Sandra Bullock all do their best to save the film with solid acting work (I'm leaving out the other very famous actor because I don't believe he's on the same level as the other three), but that's not enough to save this film from failing spectacularly.
And in the final slot, we have Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life, a film that dominated early filmic discussions of 2011 with its divisive structure and its loose narrative. It should be noted that, though Extremely Loud is a film that most shocked people with its surprise nomination, in hindsight perhaps that shock should have been reserved for this film. The Academy has never nominated such an out-there film that so boldly defies what we expect from the movies. Not even Blow-Up or 2001: A Space Odyssey could push their Best Director nominations into this category, so it says something that the Academy was willing to go out on a limb for Malick's movie.
It's no secret that I simply adored this movie, and I'm going to try to type up why I did, as it's important to defend your big decisions-this is, after all, largely an Oscar blog, and you don't get a bigger decision with Oscar than Best Picture. It's partially the beauty on display-Lubezki captures every frame with such light and imagination, and never seems afraid to throw us another winding look at a tree or the alabaster pallor of Jessica Chastain's face. It's also the deeply profound look we take at the three principle members of the O'Brien family-Hunter McCracken, Jessica Chastain, and Brad Pitt somehow appear so naturalistic that you wonder if Malick told them they were filming, and yet they fit perfectly into Malick's metaphor about the way of nature and the way of grace. And finally, it's also the sheer awe that the film inspires. Few directors take on as impossible of projects as trying to exhibit a topic like "the meaning of life" onto the screen, since they know that even if they make perfect films, they will never succeed in answering the question. That doesn't stop Malick, and while he obviously can't find the answer to the question, what his movie does, by immersing us into this world of big bangs and the ends of time and the bitterness of becoming more aware during childhood, is making us better understand ourselves. It's the sort of movie, that if you let it, really transforms how you look at the world and how you think. It seems like the water may be getting a bit deep here, so I'll pull out soon, but I have to say that this is why cinephiles become enchanted with the movies-not just to see great art and great performances, but to have that moment where the art guides us to a different direction, and gets us to think about the world in a new light.
