→ August 16, 2018
→ By

The English Patient.

I’d never read Michael Ondaatje’s 1992 novel The English Patient until late May of this year, despite recommendations from multiple people, its status as a Booker Prize winner, and its adaptation into an Oscar-winning film (that I still have not seen). This past week, a public poll voted it the best Booker winner of all time (the so-called “Golden Booker”), choosing it from five candidates, one from each decade of the award’s history, but I tweeted that I wouldn’t even put it top five among the 14 Booker winners I’ve read; my favorite is Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day, which wasn’t on the shortlist. While I do like Ondaatje’s writing, I couldn’t possibly have felt less connected to a story than I did to this one, about four people holed up in a damaged Italian villa in the wake of World War II.

The patient of the title might be English, and is certainly modeled after the Hungarian count Count László de Almásy, although the Count didn’t crash and burn in the Sahara as this patient did. The fictional version is burned over nearly his entire body and has no hope of recovery. He’s cared for by the shell-shocked nurse Hana, and they’re joined by the Sikh sapper Kip and the Canadian thief Caravaggio, with their four stories told in intertwined narratives, with the patient’s recollections of his affair with a friend’s wife and eventual betrayal forming the book’s foundation.

Although the patient’s story sits at the center of the book, Kip’s narrative is both more interesting and more insightful, and I think a book about him would have held my attention and my empathy much more than the distant plot about Almásy did. Kip is Indian-born and goes against the nationalist leanings of his brother when he volunteers to become a sapper in the British army, joining an all-white unit that keeps him at arm’s length even when he proves skilled at his job. He is effectively drafted into a more elite group headed by Lord Suffolk (also based on a real person), who trains the best sappers in disposing of new types of bombs, but this brief honeymoon of belonging ends abruptly and cuts Kip adrift, landing him eventually into an abortive affair with Hana. The way that ends is one of the novel’s strongest moments, as an external event bursts the bubble in which Kip has been hiding for some time – the same one that Hana refuses to leave even though the war in Europe has ended.

I suppose part of the popular appeal of both the book and the film is that the patient’s recollections of his affair with Katherine Clifton, portrayed in the film by Kristin Scott-Thomas, depict some sort of great romance – especially founded as it was on a deep intellectual connection – but that scarcely comes across in the pages of the book, between Ondaatje’s fuzzy descriptions, probably to emphasize that we are reading the muddled memories of a gravely injured man, and the absence of any depth to Katherine’s character.

Perhaps the movie develops her character more, or fleshes out other parts of the story, but while I respect Ondaatje’s dedication to historical accuracy in borrowing these personages and his deft writing, I felt utterly detached from this story from start to finish.

Next up: Min Jin Lee’s 2017 novel Pachinko.

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→ March 4, 2018
→ By

Oscars preview and picks, 2018 edition.

If you haven’t heard it yet, Chris Crawford and I recorded a podcast previewing tonight’s Academy Awards, but I also wanted to be able to put my predictions here for everyone to see, as well as links to all of the nominees I’ve reviewed so far. As always, bear in mind I am not a professional film critic in any way, and I have no inside knowledge at all of who or what is likely to win any of these awards. I just have opinions.

I’ll do a full ranking of all of the 2017 films I’ve seen once I get Loveless.

Best Picture

Who should win: Of the nine nominees, I would probably vote for The Shape of Water over Dunkirk but would be fine with either winning.

Who will win: I think The Shape of Water is going to edge out Three Billboards given the blowback against the latter’s mishandling of a police brutality subplot that’s treated as a joke. I still think there’s maybe a 5% chance Get Out shocks the world, though.

I haven’t seen: Got ‘em all this year.

Who was snubbed: The Florida Project was my #1 movie of 2017, with only a few films left for me to see to put a bow on last year. I don’t assign letter grades to movies a la Grierson & Leitch, but that would be my only A, I think.

Best Director

  • Dunkirk, Christopher Nolan
  • Get Out, Jordan Peele
  • Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig
  • Phantom Thread, Paul Thomas Anderson
  • The Shape of Water, Guillermo del Toro

Who should win: Nolan.

Who will win: I said in the podcast with Chris that I could see Gerwig (first woman) winning, but I think I’d probably still bet on del Toro.

Who was snubbed: Sean Baker for The Florida Project, making a masterpiece with a cast of largely non-professional actors.

Best Actor

  • Timothée Chalamet, Call Me By Your Name
  • Daniel Day-Lewis, Phantom Thread
  • Daniel Kaluuya, Get Out
  • Gary Oldman, Darkest Hour
  • Denzel Washington, Roman J. Israel, Esq.

Who should win: Day-Lewis gave the best performance. I think I’d prefer to see Kaluuya win, and it was a real breakout role for him, but DDL is just a master.

Who will win: Oldman, who should win for Best Impersonation, but that’s not really the same thing, is it?

I haven’t seen: Roman J. Israel, Esq..

Who was snubbed: John Cho for Columbus, a wonderful movie almost nobody has seen.

Best Actress

  • Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water
  • Frances McDormand, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
  • Margot Robbie, I, Tonya
  • Saoirse Ronan, Lady Bird
  • Meryl Streep, The Post

Who should win: Of the three I’ve seen, I’d give it to Hawkins.

Who will win: Everyone seems to think McDormand has this locked up. She’s good, but I think her role was much less demanding than Hawkins’ or one of the actresses I think was snubbed.

I haven’t seen: I, Tonya.

Who was snubbed: Daniela Vega for A Fantastic Woman, and perhaps Alexandra Barbely for On Body and Soul or Vicky Krieps for Phantom Thread. This was the strongest category of all this year.

Best Supporting Actor

  • Willem Dafoe, The Florida Project
  • Woody Harrelson, Three Billboards
  • Richard Jenkins, The Shape of Water
  • Christopher Plummer, All the Money in the World
  • Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards

Who should win: Dafoe.

Who will win: Rockwell.

I haven’t seen: All the Money in the World. This seems like an acknowledgement of the effort rather than the performance.

Who was snubbed: Michael Stuhlbarg (who appeared in three Best Picture nominees this year) for Call Me By Your Name.

Best Supporting Actress

  • Mary J. Blige, Mudbound
  • Allison Janney, I, Tonya
  • Lesley Manville, Phantom Thread
  • Laurie Metcalf, Lady Bird
  • Octavia Spencer, The Shape of Water

Who should win: Of the three I’ve seen, Metcalf.

Who will win: Janney.

I haven’t seen: I, Tonya or Mudbound.

Who was snubbed: Holly Hunter for The Big Sick.

Best Original Screenplay

  • The Big Sick
  • Get Out
  • Lady Bird
  • The Shape of Water
  • Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

      • Who should win: I’m torn on this one, but I think I’d vote Get Out here.

      Who will win: I have no idea. I’ll guess Lady Bird.

      I haven’t seen: None.

      Who was snubbed: The Florida Project and Columbus.

      Best Adapted Screenplay

      • Call Me By Your Name
      • The Disaster Artist
      • Logan
      • Molly’s Game
      • Mudbound

      Who will win: Call Me By Your Name.

      I haven’t seen: Call Me is the only one I’ve seen.

      Who was snubbed: The Sense of an Ending, another very good, quiet film that almost nobody saw last year. It’s adapted from the Booker Prize-winning novel by Julian Barnes.

      Best Animated Feature

      Who should win: Coco.

      Who will win: Coco.

      I haven’t seen: Ferdinand.

      Who was snubbed: This category has become a disaster thanks to the change in voting rules I mentioned yesterday, favoring big studio releases over indie films. But there were a ton of eligible films that were #BetterThanBossBaby, including The LEGO Batman Movie and The Girl Without Hands.

      Best Short Film – Animated

      • ”Dear Basketball”
      • ”Garden Party”
      • ”Lou”
      • ”Negative Space”
      • ”Revolting Rhymes

      Who should win: Three of these are great; I’d probably vote “Revolting Rhymes,” which is on Netflix. I reviewed them all in one post.

      Who will win: I assume “Lou” because it’s Pixar. It’s also great, as is “Negative Space.” I am really hoping “Dear Basketball,” easily the worst of the five, doesn’t win on the basis of Kobe Bryant’s involvement.

      I haven’t seen: None.

      Best Documentary Feature

      Who should win: This really depends on what you want from your documentaries – should the film really expose or explain something, or can it just show you a slice of life? I liked four of the five nominees and would probably vote Faces Places by a nose over Icarus.

      Who will win: I think Faces Places so they can put Agnes Varda – or a cardboard cutout of her – on the stage.

      I haven’t seen: None.

      Who was snubbed: I did not see Jane, but given the wide critical acclaim of that film (about Jane Goodall), I was shocked it didn’t get a nod. I also thought City of Ghosts would get a nomination over Last Men in Aleppo.

      Best Short Film – Documentary

      • ”Ethel & Eddie”
      • ”Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405”
      • ”Heroin(e)”
      • ”Knife Skills”
      • ”Traffic Stop”

      Who should win: Of the three I’ve seen, “Knife Skills” is a wonderful watch but “Traffic Stop” (on HBO) and “Heroin(e)” (on Netflix) are both so incredibly important.

      Who will win: I really don’t have a guess on this one.

      I haven’t seen: “Ethel & Eddie” and “Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405”. The latter is on YouTube but I couldn’t get through a few minutes of it because it was so upsetting right at the outset.

      Best Foreign Language Film

      Who should win: Of the three I’ve seen, A Fantastic Woman, which also would have been worthy of a Best Picture nomination.

      Who will win: I think A Fantastic Woman gets this.

      I haven’t seen: I’m going to see Loveless this week, weather permitting, and it has earned critical plaudits on par with the best movies of the year. I also missed The Insult.

      Who was snubbed: I haven’t seen either of these, but thought In the Fade (which won the Golden Globe in this category) or Foxtrot (that trailer looks amazing) would sneak in here.

      Best Short Film – Live Action

      • ”DeKalb Elementary”
      • ”The Eleven O’Clock”
      • ”My Nephew Emmett”
      • ”The Silent Child”
      • ”Watu Wote/All Of Us”

      I’ve only seen “DeKalb Elementary,” which is superb, well-acted, and unfortunately very, very timely. I haven’t been able to find any of the other four online in any format.

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→ December 1, 2016
→ By

Moonlight.

Moonlight is already one of the best-reviewed movies of the year, and it feels like a lock for a Best Picture nomination, especially in light of recent criticism that the Oscars are too white. It’s an unusually quiet, understated movie, often painfully silent, mimicking the internal suffering of its main character, a gay black man we follow from elementary school to young adulthood as he struggles to find any way or place he can feel comfortable in his own skin.

The story unfurls in three parts, with a different actor playing the lead character in each stage, with probably six to eight years separating each third. Chiron, variously known as Little or Black, first appears on screen as he’s chased by a bunch of classmates shouting about beating “his gay ass” as they run through a project in Miami, eventually cornering him in a boarded-up motel or apartment complex where he’s found by the local dealer Juan (Mahershala Ali). Juan ends up serving as a sort of father figure to Chiron, but the relationship unravels as Chiron’s mother, Paula, becomes a crack addict. The film follows Chiron through a miserable experience in high school as a bullied, silent kid whose one experience with sexuality is followed by betrayal and disaster, to his transformation as an adult into a jacked-up enforcer in Atlanta who comes back to Miami to reunite with his estranged friend.

If you want to summarize Moonlight as the gay black movie, you wouldn’t exactly be wrong, but you’d be doing the screenplay by director Barry Jenkins and playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney a huge disservice. Chiron is a target because he’s gay, something even his own mother can’t accept, but the theme of ostracism and isolation is broader than just that brought on by homophobia – and if Chiron were comfortable with his sexuality, or had a support system at home, or were just willing to defend himself physically (as Kevin tells him in part one), his story arc would be completely different. Chiron’s problem is not that he’s gay, but that he is who he is, with no one around to tell him that he’s okay, or to help him become a more assertive, confident person before it’s too late. You could just as easily say Moonlight is about a life ruined by the scourge of crack in poor black communities. I don’t think it’s any of those things, not individually, but draws on so many different themes that it manages to create a complex story with a bare minimum of dialogue.

And when I say a bare minimum, I mean it; you could probably write this entire script on the head of a pin using a Sharpie and an old English font. Chiron rarely says more than two or three words at a time, and often just doesn’t answer questions addressed directly to him. No one talks at length except for Kevin, and by the third act, it seems like it’s out of nervousness rather than him having something to say. The silences throughout the film are there to make you uncomfortable, to make you feel the characters’ discomfort, but as someone with the attention span of a goldfish I felt a little like I was watching Steve Trachsel’s directorial debut. The silences are undoubtedly effective, both for that purpose and for making the film’s bursts of activity that much more incisive, but oh my God Chiron just answer the question!

It seems like Moonlight is already generating Oscar buzz, and it’s on par with some of the best movies I’ve seen the last few years as a work of art, but I wonder if any actors in the film will earn nominations given how little time most of them get on screen. Of the three actors to play Chiron, only Trevante Rhodes really has enough to do to merit a Supporting Actor nod, and Ali could get consideration for the same. As much as I’d like to see Janelle Monáe, who plays Juan’s girlfriend Teresa and appears in two of the three parts, get a nomination, the character is too one-note for that, and Naomie Harris, who plays Chiron’s mother, has much more weight to her role as well as the bonus points from playing a drug addict. (The hair and makeup department did their best to make Monáe look plain, but failed.) I could see Moonlight getting Picture, Director, and Screenplay nods but whiffing on the four Actor categories, depending of course on what the rest of the field looks like; the Screen Actors Guild has a Best Ensemble category, however, and that seems tailor-made for a film like Moonlight that is the sum of many great, small performances.

I’m hoping to catch a few more of the leading contenders in the next few weeks – La La Land, Loving, and Manchester by the Sea among them – as my writing schedule permits.

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→ March 2, 2016
→ By

Spotlight.

I’m not a big movie guy in general, and the Academy’s leanings the last few years in Best Picture nods haven’t done a lot to bring me back to the fold – not that they’re choosing bad movies, but that they’ve favored a lot of movies I wouldn’t even want to watch. (I’m sure 12 Years a Slave was amazing. I just can’t watch that kind of cruelty.) I did watch Birdman, last year’s winner, and thought it was clever but lacked any sort of resolution to the main story, as if the screenwriter had a great idea for a movie script but couldn’t figure out how to finish it.

Spotlight (amazon • iTunes), which of course won Best Picture earlier this week, appealed to me more than any recent winner I can think of. The story shows how a small group of reporters at the Boston Globe known as the Spotlight team conducted a months-long investigative effort that uncovered the scope of the abuse scandal within the Catholic Church, including the fact that the Archbishop of the Boston diocese, Cardinal Bernard Law (no relation), knew about it and did nothing beyond moving the pedophile priests around to new parishes. It’s a film that’s going to be talky – big on dialogue, light on action, highly dependent on everything from acting to directing to editing to make it a compelling film. The whole concept of a dramatic film that has no action, no sex, no romance, not even a proper antagonist (in the conventional sense of a ‘villain’), feels very British to me, just because their TV programs and films tend to be more story-driven in my entirely anecdotal experience.

Spotlight is an incredible film in the most old-fashioned sense: It tells a great story and never lets up until the end. The pacing was perfect, the performances were very strong, and no nonsensical subplots interfered with the unfolding of the main story. Only one scene rang a little false, one that felt like it was inserted so that there was a Big Dramatic Conflict to use on awards shows, but otherwise the screenplay was taut and efficient, wasting few words and even less time on irrelevant details.

I thought the performances were almost all excellent, yet none seemed likely to win an award – I was surprised to see the nominations the cast received, because these performances were all so understated. Liev Schreiber plays the new editor of the Globe, perceived as an interloper because he’s not from Boston and because he’s Jewish, with such restraint that it was hard to remember who was behind the glasses and facial hair. Mark Ruffalo, playing reporter Mike Rezendes, was just as unrecognizable with a little change to his hairstyle, a slight accent, and, aside from the one scene where he blows up at Keaton’s character, delivers a similarly spartan portrayal. A mediocre writer could have had him explode at the imperious file clerk who won’t give him access to public records that would prove damning to the Church, and a mediocre actor would have hammed it up, but instead, we get a scene that works because it’s so mundane.

The lesson of Spotlight the movie – as distinct from the scandal, which certainly gets its air time in the film but doesn’t need me to thinkpiece it any further – is that the drama in a good dramatic film doesn’t have to come from the screenplay. This story was inherently compelling: A small team of reporters, given unusual autonomy, discovers and reveals a massive, decades-long cover-up of sexual abuse by one of the world’s most powerful and most implicitly trusted authorities through hard work and ingenuity. I could give you a dozen places where someone could have Hollywoodized the script – a screaming confrontation between reporters and church officials would be the most obvious – but instead we get a simple, linear story, where the narrative greed comes from the piecemeal uncovering of the scandal. Even my short attention span was riveted for two solid hours, and when the story was over, the film is over, and if that last scene wasn’t real, well, I am going to pretend that that’s what actually happened the day the story finally ran.

The defunct Phoenix also did some great work on the story and does get a brief mention in the film, although there’s a debate over how much credit they deserve. The Globe certainly pushed the story much farther.

I’m going to watch a few of last year’s highly-rated films now that many of them are available digitally (legally – I won’t Torrent), so if you’ve got a favorite or two, nominated or otherwise, throw them in the comments. I will watch movies in any language, but I draw the line at Room, which I think I will find far too upsetting because I have a young daughter.

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→ December 3, 2012
→ By

Argo.

Ben Affleck’s Argo earned substantial praise right out of the chute when Roger Ebert tabbed it as the likely Best Picture winner based on, I presume, a strong story, well-acted, with Hollywood at its heart. (You just have to look at last year’s Best Picture winner to see how much that last point matters.) That aside, I knew the true story behind Argo was in itself interesting enough to make me want to see the film, as did the trailer that strongly evoked the look and feel of an era that exists largely at the periphery of my memories – I remember the hostage crisis and clearly remember seeing the bulk of the American hostages deplaining when they were finally released in 1981 – even if the film played a little loose with history. As it turns out, Affleck and company did a masterful job of infusing drama into a story where the conclusion is known to all at the film’s beginning, and the work they did in recreating 1979 provides a massive injection to your suspension of disbelief, to the point where even the bits that seem obviously false, like coincidental timing of two events, don’t break the spell the movie has over the viewer. The result is a heist movie without the pervasive unreality of most heist movies, yet one that retains the dry humor that sets the best heist movies apart from the rest.

The story, well-known by now but classified until 1997, involves the escape of six employees at the U.S. Embassy in Tehran on the day that demonstrators breached the gates and stormed the building, taking another 60-odd employees hostage for what turned out to be 444 days. The six employees who escaped spent a night at the British embassy but had to leave and eventually found sanctuary at the Canadian embassy thanks to the courage of the Canadian ambassador to Iran, Ken Taylor, and his wife, Pat, who could have faced execution had they been caught by the Revolutionary Guard. (Taylor discussed the story with BBC Witness earlier this week, stating that the biggest problem for his six houseguests wasn’t fear of discovery but boredom.) The U.S. government was aware early on that these six employees had escaped, but couldn’t come up with a viable plan to rescue them until extraction expert Tony Mendez (played by Affleck) came up with the idea to create a fake movie, with Mendes himself playing the film’s Canadian producer and the six escapees playing members of the film crew. The film in question was called Argo, and was a fairly blatant Star Wars ripoff that happened to be set in a place that made Iran a plausible location for the crew to be scouting. The group of seven ended up leaving Iran without as much trouble as Affleck’s film would indicate, although the truth would have been fairly dull on the screen, and Affleck also boosts the tension with a substantial amount of gallows humor from all angles, including John Goodman and Alan Arkin hamming it up beautifully as the fake film’s makeup guy and executive producer. (Goodman also appeared in last year’s Best Picture winner, The Artist, and if there were a way to quantify the most underrated actors in Hollywood, he’d have to be on it.)

Argo, the real movie, shifts around the timing of certain events to heighten the drama, making the group’s escape from Tehran more thrilling by keeping them a half-step ahead of the Iranians at every point, including a race on the tarmac in the film’s climax that apparently never happened. If you knew none of the real story, however, every bit of this movie would seem plausible except for the coincidences of timing – Arkin and Goodman returning to their sham office in Hollywood just as the Iranian authorities are calling to confirm Mendez’ phony credentials, or the CIA finally authorizing the group’s tickets on SwissAir as the seven are waiting at the ticket counter at Tehran’s airport. The pacing, however, is so crisp that most viewers won’t have enough time to think about these improbabilities; the script never dwells too long on any one character, scene, or plot point, taking a story that, in reality, probably played out quite slowly and instead turning it up to fourth gear almost from the moment Affleck first appears on screen.

His appearance, and those of the six refugees, also help cement Argo‘s power to suck you into its story even with the occasional artistic license. Images during the final credits show how carefully the actors were chosen and made up to resemble the largely-unknown people they’re portraying, with hairstyles and fashions that are instantly recognizable for their era. The film is shot with the slightly muted tones you see when watching movies filmed in that era, while the settings, mostly in Tehran but also in D.C. and in Hollywood, are just as carefully constructed to take you back to that time period. The shots of Tehran are especially stunning, including reenactments of violent street demonstrations that will certainly evoke memories in any viewer my age or older.

Affleck will likely get a Best Director nod for Argo and perhaps one for Best Actor as well, but beyond his central role, it’s an ensemble effort, with the actors playing the refugees working with limited material to carve out unique identities for their characters, and only Bryan Cranston, playing Mendez’ supervisor at Langley, getting enough screen time to earn award consideration. I haven’t seen enough contenders to consider whether Argo deserves to win Best Picture, or even be nominated, but it would be ironic and perhaps a bit awkward if a film that paints the Iranians as dimwits were to earn that honor when the unbelievable Iranian film A Separation was consigned to the foreign-language category just a year earlier.

If you want more of the true story behind the film: the Wired story from 2007 that Affleck optioned for the film version; The Houseguests: A Memoir of Canadian Courage and CIA Sorcery, a self-published memoir from Mark Lijek, one of the six embassy employees rescued by the CIA; and Argo: How the CIA and Hollywood Pulled Off the Most Audacious Rescue in History, co-authored by Tony Mendez himself.

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→ March 23, 2012
→ By

The Artist.

Here’s my basic problem with The Artist, which I saw two weeks ago: The more I try to think about it, the more I end up thinking about something else.

Don’t mistake my tone there – it’s a very good movie, at different points entertaining, funny, and poignant; beautifully shot and staged; and simply written with little that doesn’t belong. But it didn’t stick with me at all; a great movie will come back to me often, days or even weeks after I see it, with the best scenes replaying in my head regardless of whether I called them to mind. I end up considering and reconsidering themes or questions or ambiguities, often until I see a different film. But The Artist brought none of that. It was a fun way to spend two hours, but I couldn’t call it more than that.

The Artist is, at heart, a tragic romance, the story of a man, George Valentin, who is madly in love with himself – so much so that he can’t seem to recognize it when someone else actually cares about him. The title might even be ironic, and given how he treats most of the people in his life, especially after his career begins to unravel, it might have more accurately been called The Asshole.

Valentin (Best Actor winner Jean Dujardin) is a silent-film star whose life is altered by two major events near the start of the film. One is the advent of talkies, which he dismisses as might anyone who finds his livelihood threatened by new technology or innovation. (I imagine buggy drivers had some choice words for the first automobile as well.) The other is a chance encounter with an adoring fan, the fresh-faced and aptly-named Peppy Miller (Best Supporting Actress nominee Berenice Bejo), to whom George gives a role as an extra in his next film. Her star rises with the rise of sound in pictures while he is cast aside, eventually blowing his fortune to produce a silent film that, for a variety of reasons, tanks at the box office, after which his wife leaves him and his life spirals down to the bottom of a series of bottles. He hits bottom twice, and Peppy ends up in position to repay him for his part in starting her career – if only he wasn’t too buried in self-pity to notice.

The strongest aspects of the movie lie in its subtleties, as the plot itself is pretty straightforward and there aren’t any real subplots. Peppy criticizes silent movies once she’s a star by referring to actors “mugging” for the camera, but Bejo and Dujardin mug a lot less than I expected without sacrificing the expression a silent film requires from its stars. I was far more impressed by the mass of activity underneath the film’s surface, some of which holds clues to the small twist at the end of the film that casts Valentin in a better light (but only slightly), some of which just made the film a greater pleasure to watch – such as the scene in the studio’s offices where the camera shows three floors simultaneously, with a flurry of activity around Peppy and George as she tries to reconnect with him, unaware that he’s just been sacked by the studio.

But the production values and strong performances couldn’t quite get me past how sparse the actual story was. Valentin starts at the top, falls to the bottom, nearly dies, considers suicide, but never seems to learn a damn thing – not the need to change, not the value of treating people well, not how to live within his means, nothing. Only at the very end do we see a small sign that he may have learned some humility, but even that is tainted by its circumstances. He waited around for life to come back around and save him. We spend more time laughing at misfortunes of his own making than we do empathizing with him because we never seen the insecurity that lurks behind the pride.

The dog is awesome, though.

—

I was familiar enough with the film going in to try to guard against the reflex reaction that the film only won the Academy Award for Best Picture because it seemed designed to win the award – a black-and-white love letter to nascent Hollywood shot in 4:3 with only two lines of spoken dialogue, coming at the very end of the film. And, to the film’s credit, it wasn’t hard to get lost in the story, even with the twists I kind of knew were coming. But it seemed rather insubstantial for a Best Picture winner, according to the arbitrary standard in my head for that award. I expect more depth from a film deemed the best of the year by that body.

I’ve only seen one other Best Picture nominee from last year, and The Artist was better, but I’m not sure what made this film, stripped of gimmickry, better than, say, Martha Marcy May Marlene. It’s prettier, and more mainstream, and not half as disturbing, but none of those things really makes it better. I’ll work my way through the nominees as I did last year, as well as a few movies that film-critic friends of mine have pushed me to see (coughA Separationcough), but I’ll predict now that I’ll find something else I thought was more deserving. Next up is Drive.

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