Hold It There, Kitty Cat!-Revisited

I previously addressed the rising controversy over the crook-artist formerly known as artist Roman Polanski shortly after the director took some strides toward getting his case dropped, trying to use the technicalities of the law to his advantage (claiming malfeasance on the part of the original sitting judge for the case, now deceased, who was coached by a deputy district attorney outside the boundaries of the law; this was documented in Marina Zenovich’s pointed film, “Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired” (available online through Netflix Watch Instantly), and was cited by Polanski’s legal team) despite his elected fugitive status. Fortunately, the LA Court was savvy to his ways, and his efforts were stymied with a ruling stating no steps would be taken toward dismissing his case without the physical presence of Polanski in the court room. A hearing was set for last May, and, to no one’s surprise, Polanski did not show up.

(Update: And yesterday, David Wells, the former deputy district attorney who made the claims that he coached Judge Laurence J. Rittenband on sentencing Polanski, issued a formal retraction saying these were false claims. He only wanted to inflate his own ego on the camera, and so he lied that his involvement in the case was more substantial than his actual position. “It never happened,” he added. This undercuts the basis for Polanski’s dismissal.)

Last Saturday justice finally caught up with the director. While traveling to Switzerland to receive an award at the Zurich Film Festival, Polanski was detained by Swiss police on a standing interpol order issued at the request of the LA District Attorney. Expedition to the US is pending, with Polanski’s legal team, which I’m sure is big enough to fully field both sides in a football game, pedaling in high gear to stop these orders. His team’s most recent acquisition is Reid Weingarten, a Washington heavy who rubs shoulders with Attorney General Eric H. Holder Jr. This likely means no end in sight, but one can hope.

The initial (premature) reaction was surprise in Europe. The cultural minister for France stated he was “shocked.”  Over 100 film industry bigwigs—including some of my favorite directors, such as Pedro Almodóvar, Martin Scorsese, Michael Mann, and Wong Kar-Wai—signed a petition expressing “stupefaction” over the arrest. Part of this reaction is due to the fact Polanski has traveled to Switzerland, where he maintains a home, on many occasions as a fugitive and the timing of his arrest—why not one of the countless other times he was in the country in full public regale?—stunned many of his friends and colleagues. (To suppress further bafflement, the LA DA’s office issued a timeline of their efforts over the years, which include a close call in Israel two years ago.)

Other public support was especially ill informed, or at the least utterly stupid. Noted philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy was forgiving of the detained director, stating Polanski “perhaps had committed a youthful error.” Really? So a 43-year-old drugging and raping a 13-year-old girl, even if she looked like she “could be any age up to 25″ (Thanks for the insight Angelica Huston!), qualifies as youthful error?

Granted, the more heinous elements of the crime—such as the drugging and the raping part—were dropped in a plea bargain 31 years ago, leaving only the “having sex with a minor” crime. This is still a crime. Whatever illicit actions the presiding judge took should not excuse Polanski’s (now this is in jest) “youthful error.” While an actual ruling, if we ever get one, should reflect no more than this crime, any ruling would be a relief if a sense of closure could be brought to this decades long spectacle.

I particularly appreciated the view of Luc Besson. It would be far fetched to say Besson’s contributions to the film world—such as “The Fifth Element” and “La Femme Nikita”—are of a caliber higher than fluff, but they are for the most part incredibly watchable, and sometimes almost revolutionary. Anyhow, even though he is an acquaintance of Polanski, his name was notably absent from the aforementioned petition. Taken from the end of the NY Times article:

“Our daughters are good friends,” Mr. Besson said in a radio interview with RTL Soir. “But there is one justice, and that should be the same for everyone.”

One can hope.

The Myth of Mann

The seven minute bank heist at the beginning of Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” gave the film an immediate context for a superhero or supervillain to viably occupy: a land of the human superman. As the crime punctually unfolds, the sporadic dialogue between the criminals, spoken as each performs his function with the perfunctory ease of an accountant adding up dollars or a computer programmer writing a simple algorithm, serves to create an image of a mischief maker with means and malevolence beyond the reach of a human, despite the fact this world of heroes and villains is without the genetic extremities allotted to the alternate universes that gave us the “X-Men” and “Spiderman” franchises. Here, in Gotham City, the superpowers of its occupants are the abilities to incarnate the Manichean duals rather than the abilities to shoot lasers out of one’s eyes or to fly without wings or mechanical aide. “So why do they call him the Joker?” they continually ask themselves with absolute sincerity, when the exclusive “they” in the question should be substituted by an inclusive “we.” The Joker becomes exclusive from any speaker.

When the deed is done and the bank sufficiently robbed, we are finally introduced to the painted face of the Joker. But when he takes off his mask, instead of debunking the myth created by his former employees now deceased, we are given another mask, one that seems to confirm each rumor and every contradiction. “Whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you stranger,” he laughs. Simultaneously he delivers both a joke and a prophecy. Instead of returning the Joker to the realm of mortals, the revealing of his face is his apotheosis.

This type of moment happens in each and every movie of Michael Mann, so it is no surprise that Nolan name dropped Mann—specifically mentioning “Heat”—when he talked about influences for the film.

***

Mann got his start, as filmmakers often do, in television, where he worked as a writer for “Starsky and Hutch” and more famously as an executive producer (not creator) of “Miami Vice,” among other projects. Even then the subject of his stories seemed to be from a different world, but maybe this was partly indebted to the ascribed Hollywood template of what a good guy on television can be: he is invincible no matter the peril; he is ultimately morally right no matter how tainted the back story; and he is his own boss no matter what level of the food chain he inhabits. But Mann seemed to take it a step further, and gave us the epitome of cool in Don Johnson’s Sonny Crockett and Philip Michael Thomas’s Rice Tubbs, with bright colors, sharp suits, fast cars, beautiful women and indefatigable charisma. Mann left “Miami Vice” after season 3, leaving Dick Wolf (“Law & Order”) in charge, to pursue other endeavors. It did not take long until the series went sour, but not before an indelible imprint was left on the American psyche. But that’s giving way too much credit.

***

After a quiet start in the 80s with “Thief” and “Manhunter” (the latter brought the first incarnation of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, an oleaginous Brian Cox, to the silver screen), he first gained popularity in the 90s from a book by James Fenimore Cooper. Written in 1826, the second installment in the five-book “Leatherstocking Tales” series, “The Last of the Mohicans,” was not a farfetched subject for Mann to tackle, even though there existed a part for a female lead (an aim Mann subsequently eschewed until “Public Enemies”). Part of Cooper’s intent in writing was as a show of rebellion against the presumed aesthetic of the American novel. Most of what he read he labeled as trash (need cite, excluding the infallible word of my high school English teacher), and to show his contempt, he ventured to spin an equally if not even more ludicrous yarn full of silly deus ex machina escapes and other literary follies, but to still reach (and scale) the heights of popularity of the texts he vehemently abhorred. This he accomplished. (A particular criticism Cooper continues to receive is for his subhuman portrayal of female characters, precisely echoing the common sentiment toward Mann’s distaff parts.)

Daniel Day-Lewis requires little intervention to elevate him to a seemingly divine level of performance (tears almost came to my eyes when he looks Madeleine Stowe’s former wooer in the eye and says, “One of these days you and I are going to have a serious disagreement;” okay, maybe I jest), but Mann still felt obligated to give his own hint of legend. In the opening scene, shortly following a written introduction—to give context to the story and a stamp of artificial literary provenance to the film (this is really just a glorified action movie, as the book was just a glorified action book, but this does not talk little of this film (but does talk little of the book))—the audience finds Hawkeye (Mr. Day-Lewis) outrunning a deer in the woods with two of his adopted Mohican family. As they glide through the forest like a trio of primeval wood elves, Mann chooses to keep the camera close to the ground, where a simple leap over a bush or a fallen log can become a voluntary suspension of gravity. These are not mere men we are witnessing, as if in answer to a question posed by a twit. This is the common creed of Mann.

The final twenty minutes of the movie are almost completely devoid of dialogue—there is only the “I am the last of the Mohicans” speech on the cliff edge before the credits—giving Mann a chance to play with his wrought supermen. One character runs through something like twenty Mohawk before finally falling to a stronger supervillian, Magua. Then Hawkeye and the remaining Mohican run through another twenty or thirty Mohawk, before a climactic (and short) battle of the titans ensues, with a mostly predictable conclusion. (Was there a John Woo reference in there when Hawkeye shot down foe after foe with a gun in each hand?) Do I care that this was the equivalence of a period Jean-Claude Van Damme movie? (Nothing against the Muscles from Brussels. JCVD, rock on!) Not in the least. Instead, with a simple but effective soundtrack and a reliance on the natural beauty of the Appalachian Mountains (substituting for upstate New York), this will remain a simple pleasure, easily palatable and almost (not so almost) powerful, mostly in part to the capacity of Mann.

***

More to come later…

The Academy is Full of Surprises

This past week the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced that it will expand its Best Picture nominee list from 5 to 10 films. This is understandable considering its dwindling audience in recent years. Had this been the case last year, there would’ve been space for crowd favorites like “Wall-E” and “The Dark Knight,” which in turn would have been able to get more people to sit down and watch Hollywood give itself a grand celebration. (I was going to write “stroke its own cock” but that would’ve been vulgar.)

Is this a good thing? Some people say it will take away the “prestige” factor for nominees, which is key in some marketing ploys by some companies or at least bragging rights for others. But I in all honesty could probably care less. I can’t remember the last time I thought the year’s best film actually took home the Best Picture trophy. Maybe “Unforgiven,” and that was almost two decades ago. I think the “prestige” factor has been lacking since the awards ceremony became tantamount to a high school ASB Presidential race. It’s annoying that Kate Winslet can win a Best Actress award because this was her sixth nomination and not that she was actually the best actress of that year (which was the case last year; maybe she was deserving for her role in “Little Children,” but she was going up against a more politically motivated Oscar campaign (but also more qualified) for Helen Mirren that year).

So with 10 nominations there will still be the requisite dross nominees (“The Reader” this year, “Juno” the prior year), but at least there will the likely consolation that a few worthy contenders will make their way onto the list even if they have a GM chance of winning. I was happy that my favorite film of two years ago, “The Letters of Iwo Jima,” at least made the list of nominees, even though a middle of the road Scorsese film took home the grand prize. (And what’s with Scorsese’s next film, “Shutter Island,” looking like a horror film? Maybe he’s just been tired of doing crime dramas forever but felt he couldn’t win an Oscar without doing another—and then also lost the motivation to make an original story, choosing instead to copy a better Hong Kong movie—and now is relieved to have the ability to take a new path without the remorse of tainting his image come awards season. More the power to him, I suppose. )

***

In other Oscar news, the Academy now announced plans to allow only liked songs, those reaching an 8.25 scale on an Academy voters survey for whatever that’s worth. Also, they will do without the public ceremony for the honor recipients the Academy feels bad about for not giving a real Oscar since they take up too much valuable time.

The Off Season

Part of my reluctance to continue writing about movies on this page is because this is the time of season when my interest in movies generally wanes. (Another reason is a recent unwholesome obsession with my PS3’s functions other than Blu-ray player, but that’s enough about that.)

Now, at least in local theaters, the focus is on the summer blockbuster and weekend box office numbers. While this is not always a bad thing, it serves to be more distracting than rewarding. Last summer’s barrage of comic book divertissements—“Iron Man” (liked), “The Incredible Hulk” (meh), “Hellboy II: The Golden Army” (liked a lot some reason, more so in retrospect), “The Dark Knight” (very much liked)—has been replaced by a basket full of Hasbro advertisements.

***

Michael Bay, perennially in competition with Uwe Boll for Worst Director, will be bringing to the world the next chapter in the arduous nationalization process of Earth’s (relatively) recent immigrant population: the Autobots. In a few trailer viewings of “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen,” there appears to again be a focus on slo-mo CGI battle scenes and Megan Fox, which would’ve made me pee my pants if I were 10 (okay, I guess Megan Fox is easy to look at, as long as she doesn’t talk). I think I will prefer to play with my Transformer toys currently collecting dust in a box somewhere for two and a half hours than sit through this one in theaters. But I do try (kinda) not to pass judgment without having sampled what potentially hazardous cinematic victuals the world has to offer. After all, I did sit through the first one (not in theaters, mind you), but it took me about four beers to get all the way to the end. (Maybe I’ll need to institute an alternative “beer rating” for movies.) I find movies fascinating because, even if the movie is lame, I feel each film serves to at least give a cursory glimpse at a certain demographic and its interests and expectations, even if it does have an unhealthy toy fetish.

Stephen Summers, the genius behind “The Mummy” series and other gems like “Van Helsing,” will be the other helmer for the toy industry with “G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra.” (Why is the format of this title the exact same as the other toy movie?) Now, I also saw a trailer for this one, and I am disappointed to say it is not at all tied in with the 1986 classic “Cobra” (check out that tagline!). I was hoping it would be a zombie movie with Lieutenant Marion ‘Cobra’ Cobretti, originally played with regular aplomb by Sylvester Stallone (who also took a writing credit for that film), coming back from the dead to fight some more neo-fascist mass murderers. Or perhaps the neo-fascist mass murderers Sly killed in the first film are the ones coming back from the dead and Cobra actually didn’t die of a steroid overdose as he did in the extended edition, alternative ending fashioned together in my head. After all, in the original film Sly’s police division was known as “The Zombie Squad,” so my mind of course followed the logical deduction process to arrive at both plausible scenarios for a sequel. Alas. Also, I was sad to see it bared little resemblance to these revamps of the original cartoon, so my disappointment was two-fold.

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This being the “off season,” movies worth pursuing still exist. So far this year, the movies I’ve most enjoyed include: “Adventureland,” a coming of age story of a post-grad in need of summer employment, minus the usual sophomoric tendencies of the genre or the unrealistic fascinations of Judd Apatow; “Coraline,” the 3D stop-motion adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s story of a girl who discovers an ideal alternative world, or almost ideal; “Summer Hours,” Olivier Assayas’s vision of globalization and art on the familial scale; and “Drag Me to Hell,” Sam Raimi’s return to his nonpareil “Evil Dead” roots after an overlong stay in the Hollywood factory (“Spider-Man 3” sure lacked the pizazz of the first two; hopefully this film gives him a jump-start on the interesting front for the announced next “Spider-Man” installment).

A couple of movies slated for wide release in the next few weeks I’m most excited about include “Public Enemies,” directed by Michael Mann who seems to have a godly touch with the crime genre (“Heat,” “Collateral”), and “The Hurt Locker,” about a bomb squad unit in Iraq and the many joys involved. And “Bruno.” Can’t forget Bruno.

While at times it may seem like there is a dearth of quality on the screens, it pays to look a little farther away from home and one may be pleasantly surprised. Hopefully.

News Flash

In case no one heard (that is, if you for some reason rely on my reportage for your daily news, in which case, you’d be up a certain type of creek for the last two months, given my extended sojourn to the world of social discourse and human contact, i.e. the anti-blogosphere; P.S. I hate the word “blogosphere” with a passion and will hence murder any who use the word twice within the span of 10 seconds in a 30 foot radius of my hypocritical presence), Carolina did take home the important trophy. I honestly had to fight back a few manly tears when I saw the utterly naive and exuberant Hansbrough hugging Coach Williams after the confetti began to fall. I wonder how long until I see another player of such doltish prowess.

Anyhow.

Two months and no posts.

Meh.

Maybe I’ll start up again.

Also, to add slightly to the cinecentric aim of this page, yesterday I watched “Jurassic Park” for the upteenth time. I think when I grow up, I want to be a paleontologist.  This, obviously, brings to mind Tracy Jordan(/Morgan)’s comment about feeding a parrot in “30 Rock” about three weeks ago–plus or minus a month–found about 5 and a half minutes into the clip below.

Enter as a Lamb, Exit in a Straightjacket

It is now more than a week into March, and we are in the gut of the most exciting time in college basketball: March Madness.

College basketball has long been my favorite sport since I was a kid growing up in North Carolina (a friend of mine pontificated upon the subject of college over professional sports ever so eloquently here). And coming from North Carolina I was given the choice (sort of) to follow UNC or Duke basketball, which is like having a choice between working in a soup kitchen during the holiday season (UNC) and watching with glee as an IED that you strategically placed for maximal carnage go off in a full maternity ward (Duke). Since I’m not evil (subjective view) and I actually try on occasion not to be an utter asshole, I chose the side of good and all that is holy in life: the North Carolina Tar Heels.

Psycho T earning 2 of his 2,717 career points

This past weekend, UNC secured an outright ACC regular season championship by completing a sweep of Duke (which would’ve been a shared title with Duke if UNC were to have lost; I’m glad UNC decided to be selfish), while also bidding a homecourt adieu to the reigning national player of the year, Tyler Hansbrough (who, thanks both to an improved supporting cast and the nonpareil Blake Griffin, won’t be taking home another POY award). A much improved Danny Green, a quietly efficient defender Bobby Frasor and a reserve Michael Copeland were also given the senior fête, while the mercurial Ty Lawson (crowned today as the ACC Player of the Year; he was joined on the all-ACC first team with Hansbrough who received his record fourth unanimous first-team selection; the last time Carolina had two on the all-ACC team they won a national championship) and the off and on sharpshooter Wayne Ellington made their most likely last home appearances (both along with Green withdrew from the NBA draft in June, so I expect them to stick their names in the hat more permanently this next summer). Hansbrough is only 52 points shy of the ACC career scoring title, currently held by the nefarious former dookie/dick, J.J. Redick. This last scoring record will likely be claimed either Saturday or Sunday in the ACC tournament for Hansbrough, who will exit as the most decorated Tar Heel ever.

I expect great things from this team in not just the ACC tournament but the NCAA tournament. An NCAA championship would help alleviate some of the accumulated pain suffered over the last two tournaments, with a shameful Elite Eight exit against Georgetown due to a scoreless overtime two years ago followed by an unforeseen drumming by Kansas in last year’s Final Four. Currently the Tar Heels sit at the top of the polls, the first time in ten weeks. Due to the aforementioned pending exits, this year is their best chance in the near future to end a season with the final victory. They may not be the unbeatable team they were touted to be at the beginning of the season, but they are still a pretty damn good team.

Anyhow, since I usually focus on movies here, I’ll take a quick look at basketball in film.

***

“Hoosiers”: It is impossible to talk about movies and basketball and not start with “Hoosiers.” I’m not alone in this thinking; A.O. Scott, in line with the current zeitgeist, included a Critics’ Picks video entry last week about this 1986 film.

The story is simple enough: former college coach who has since fallen from grace, Norman Dale (Gene Hackman), leads a small Indiana high school to a state championship against all odds. In the fifties (when the story takes place) all high schools competed against each other for a state title regardless of size in Indiana. So the feat (which vaguely resembles Milan High School’s 1954 Indiana state championship, hence the “inspired by a true story” label) was definitely of Herculean proportions considering the team’s immensely undersized school.

To be honest, there isn’t a special little place next to my heart (maybe I don’t have one?) for this movie, but I find it hard to actually fault this movie for its faults. The trite inspirational movie still has its purpose, and this one bangs its drums ever so loudly and proudly that I was unable to stave off a smile for the inevitable come from behind, buzzer-beating finale. Maybe David Anspaugh, the director, felt he found his niche with this debut film, and so he continued to stick with the underdog sports genre, later helming “Rudy” (1993), the story of the Notre Dame football inspirational hero, and most recently “The Game of Their Lives” (2005), a look at US soccer’s unlikely one-nil victory over England in 1950.

“Hoosiers” continues to make different all-time lists, ranking in at number 4 on AFI’s Top 10 Sports Movies. In a survey last November for the Most Inspirational Movie Ever on moviefone.com, “Hoosiers” made an appearance at number 9. First place went to “My Left Foot.” And with that, I give you:

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“Hoop Dreams”: Unlike “Hoosiers,” which used a substantial sugar coating for its David and Goliath message, “Hoop Dreams” (1994) brings the unadulterated and gripping story of the American Dream as seen through the eyes of two young black men. Arthur Agee and William Gates come from poor black neighborhoods in Chicago. Their skills on the court opened their eyes to a future outside of their impoverished surroundings when they are each given a partial scholarship to play at the illustrious St. Joseph High School. Their NBA aspirations, be it those of 14-year-olds, seem far from a pipe dream; St. Joseph’s recruited Isaiah Thomas (a point Gene Pinatore, the coach for St. Joseph’s, ensures everyone is aware of), who makes an appearance in the film, fresh off leading the Detroit Pistons to a second consecutive NBA championship.

But their roads soon diverge. While William makes a comfortable transition both in the classroom and on the court (he starts on the varsity team in his first year), Arthur struggles (his grades hurt and he is relegated to the freshman team). In Arthur’s words: “I’ve just never been around a lot of white people, but I can adjust.” Later Arthur is upbraided for acting up in class (a symptom his coach is quick to blame on “his environment”), and in his sophomore year he is forced to transfer to the local public school with $1,500 in back tuition. St. Joseph’s would not allow Arthur to transfer credits needed for graduation until his family could set up a way to pay back this money.

Pinatore’s empty talk about caring about his players’ futures is as transparent as glass. When William injures his knee, Pinatore urges him to play prior to a complete recovery. When William fathers a child and his grades suffer, he went to his coach for some help in dealing with his family. Pinatore’s advice: “Write them off.”

St. Joseph’s attempted to sue the film makers, Steve James, Frederick Marx and Peter Gilbert (who spend over seven years of their lives making this film), for defamation of character, and they tried to prevent it from reaching theaters. Luckily, they failed. In conclusion, I’ll borrow more directly from the NY Times review by Caryn James a snapshot of the best moment in the movie:

Depite all the drama on and off screen, a particularly quiet moment best captures the life lesson of “Hoop Dreams” and is the scene most likely to have audiences cheering. William, about to graduate from St. Joseph, tells Coach Pingatore of his college plans. “I’m going into communications,” he says, “so when you come asking for donations, I’ll know the right way to turn you down.” 

***

“Teen Wolf”: In case you were unaware of the importance of this centerpiece of American cinema, you just needed to tune in two weeks ago on Larry King Live when Tracey Jordan recounted the entire plot of “Teen Wolf” (1985) before leading all of the country into mass hysteria (with advice such as “take a deep breath, calm down, and start preparing [your] bodies for Thunderdome. That is the new law”) following an Asian stock market panic. Okay, maybe that was only on an episode of “30 Rock”—found online—but still, this is an undisputed American classic that needs to be studied in the classroom next to “Moby Dick” and “Huckleberry Finn.” Just look at some of the life lessons this film manages to inculcate.

Exhibit A: How to purchase a keg of beer when looking like you are 12

Exhibit B: How to surf on top of a moving van (note: so I couldn’t find an English version of this clip, but everyone knows Spanish, right?)

I think they should’ve followed this up with a keg stand on top of the van. Wait, I’m beginning to sound like a Duke(/deuche) fan.

And the winners are…

 

The littluns from "Slumdog Millionaire"

I pretty much sucked with my predictions, getting a whopping 50% correct (12 out of 24). I wasn’t surprised by the huge night for “Slumdog Millionaire,” but I wasn’t exactly rooting for it. At least the cute little kids were there for the celebration.

“Slumdog” led the night with 8 wins (80% of its 10 nominations), including 3 of the top categories (Film, Director, and Adapted Screenplay) but no acting awards (largely due to the fact it received no acting nominations, mostly deservedly, not to say only deserving performances are recognized by the Academy).

In a distant second place was “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” with 3 wins (23% of 13), all from “periphery” categories (Art Design, Makeup, Visual Effects). “Milk” and “The Dark Knight” each wound up with 2 wins, including the first posthumous trophy since Peter Finch for Heath Ledger.

I don’t have much more to add other than Hugh Jackman was decent (I like that he made a joke about not watching “The Reader,” for which I envy him) but I preferred Jon Stewart’s politically incorrect candor; the changeup in the acting presentations was okay (5 previous winners present, each taking turns panegyrizing a candidate; for the leading acting awards, this replaced the winner from the previous year presenting the category for the opposite sex, which likely eliminates the potential for improvised osculation); I was almost as unimpressed with some of the winners as I was with those nominated (goddamit Kate Winslet); and lastly, the best winner’s speech was given by Kunio Katô after receiving the Animated Short Film trophy:

which brings to mind a song infinitely better than ‘Jai Ho’:

 ***

The winners are as follows, with my successful picks in green:

Film: Slumdog Millionaire
Director: Danny Boyle
Actor: Sean Penn
Actress: Kate Winslet
Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger
Supporting Actress: Penélope Cruz
Original Screenplay: Milk
Adapted Screenplay: Slumdog Millionaire
Foreign Film: Departures
Animated Film: WALL-E
Original Score: Slumdog Millionaire
Original Song: Slumdog Millionaire (‘Jai Ho’)
Art Direction: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Cinematography: Slumdog Millionaire
Costume Design: The Duchess
Makeup: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Documentary: Man on Wire
Sound Mixing: Slumdog Millionaire
Sound Editing: The Dark Knight
Visual Effects: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Film Editing: Slumdog Millionaire
Animated Short Film: La Maison en Petite Cubes
Live Action Short Film: Spielzeugland (Toyland)
Documentary Short: Smile Pinki

Oscar Predictions 2009

The 81st Annual Academy Awards will take place this Sunday, February 22nd, at 5pm Pacific/8pm Eastern. The Academy hired the mostly talented John Singleton (“Boyz N the Hood,” “2 Fast 2 Furious”) to put together an absurdly bathetic spot released in about 11,000 theaters last Friday, which will likely have little impact on increasing the probable lackluster viewer turnout this weekend (even with movie attendance since the beginning of the year up 23 percent from this period one year ago).

Just for the heck of it, I’ll try my hand at guessing the outcome. I will venture as much of an educated guess as possible, trying to take into account past Academy practices or gauging the likely sympathy winner, but it is inevitable that I will have to approach a mostly random pick in categories in which I’m either unfamiliar or underqualified. As a result, my picks won’t reflect my actual opinion (compare my Best Picture pick below with my actual opinion for each nominated film), just what I think the politicking morass of Hollywood might prefer. If I were to put money on this (I’m not), I would more closely consort a page of odds for each category, but I’ll expect some upsets, or rather “upsets.”

I will put my pick in bold and include three asterisks (***) next to films or performances I’ve not seen. I’ll also include my If-there-were-an-Oscars-God pick below each category.

So, now to it!

***

BEST FILM

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “Frost/Nixon”
• “Milk”
• “The Reader”
• “Slumdog Millionaire”

Personal opinion: “Milk” should win, given the options

BEST DIRECTOR

• Danny Boyle for “Slumdog Millionaire”
  
• Stephen Daldry for “The Reader”
• David Fincher for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Ron Howard for “Frost/Nixon”
• Gus Van Sant for “Milk”

Personal opinion: David Fincher should win, but there is much talk of Danny Boyle (heavy odds favorite)

BEST ACTOR

• Richard Jenkins for “The Visitor”
• Frank Langella for “Frost/Nixon”
• Sean Penn for “Milk”
• Brad Pitt for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Mickey Rourke for “The Wrestler”

Personal opinion: Sean Penn, although I think all except Brad Pitt would be deserving of this award

BEST ACTRESS

• Anne Hathaway for “Rachel Getting Married”
• Angelina Jolie for “Changeling”***
• Melissa Leo for “Frozen River”
• Meryl Streep for “Doubt”
• Kate Winslet for “The Reader”

Personal opinion: Anne Hathaway gave by far my favorite distaff performance of the year, followed then by Melissa Leo; I will ignore the heavy odds going for Kate Winslet and Meryl Streep since I found neither performance to merit special recognition

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

• Josh Brolin for “Milk”
• Robert Downey Jr. for “Tropic Thunder”
• Phillip Seymour Hoffman for “Doubt”
• Heath Ledger for “The Dark Knight”
• Michael Shannon for “Revolutionary Road”***

Personal opinion: I really think Heath Ledger gave one of the most memorable performances ever for a villain; however, if he did not pass away in the previous year, he would’ve likely been excluded from the ceremony since the Academy often ignores comic book films (and puerile comedies, meaning without a Heath Ledger nomination, RDJ would’ve also been shunned); Josh Brolin would be a second place pick for me

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

• Amy Adams for “Doubt”
• Penélope Cruz for “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
• Viola Davis for “Doubt”
• Taraji P. Henson for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Marisa Tomei for “The Wrestler”

Personal opinion: Cruz is also my (and the odds’) favorite, with Marisa Tomei in second; Viola Davis (second in odds) is hard to compare with the other performances since her screentime only consisted of one 12 minute scene, but Judi Dench was able to steal a trophy with only 8 minutes of screentime (across 4 scenes) for “Shakespeare in Love”

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

• “Frozen River”: Courtney Hunt
• “Happy-Go-Lucky”: Mike Leigh
• “In Bruges”: Martin McDonagh
• “Milk”: Dustin Lance Black
• “WALL-E”: Andrew Stanton et al.

Personal opinion: Pixar has amassed too many writing nominations to be ignored for “WALL-E,” which according to many should’ve made the Best Film shortlist (I preferred it to each film in that category); this was my least hated category, where films worth consideration actually were nominated (“Happy-Go-Lucky” really should’ve also had a Best Actress nomination, if not Best Director or Best Film); if there were an Oscars God, “Synechdoche, New York” would be taking home a trophy here

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Eric Roth, Robin Wicord
• “Doubt”: John Patrick Shanley
• “Frost/Nixon”: Peter Morgan
• “The Reader”: David Hare
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: Simon Beaufoy

Personal opinion: This is my most hated category of the year: “Frost/Nixon” and “Button” are the only films in consideration that should be on this list (even if “Button” barely resembles its source material); other films I would’ve been happy to see included here are “Paranoid Park,” “Let the Right One In” and “Tell No One”

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

• “Changeling”: Tom Stern***
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Claudio Miranda
• “The Dark Knight”: Wally Pfister
• “The Reader”: Roger Deakings, Chris Menges
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: Anthony Dod Mantle

Personal opinion: Of these options, I was most impressed cinematographically by “The Dark Knight,” with its absolutely stunning aerial segues and claustrophobic spacing during the batbike chase, not to mention the pyrotechnic hospital explosion; my second place pick would be “Button,” but everyone seems itching to give “Slumdog” a big night; again, this is still one of the “prestigious” categories, and comic book movies are deemed not to fit the bill

BEST EDITING

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Angus Wall, Kirk Baxter
• “The Dark Knight”: Lee Smith
• “Frost/Nixon”: Daniel P. Hanley, Mike Hill
• “Milk”: Eliot Graham
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: Chris Dickens

Personal opinion: I’m again with “TDK” here, which is second in odds to “Slumdog,” with a second place vote for “Button;” I enjoyed “TDK”’s quick edits, choosing to show only a glimpse of Harvey Dent rather than a distended (and unnecessary) scene about why he came back after an assasination attempt, after a group of cops were discussing whether he would be seen again any time soon; I loathe drawn out explanations of obvious actions, and “TDK” avoided these with aplomb (even though for some, Harvey Dent’s sudden turn could’ve been better examined, but I think intimations to his volatile personality were given since his introduction in a court room and his first assasination attempt)

BEST ART DIRECTION

• “Changeling”: James J. Murakami, Gary Fettis***
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Donald Graham Burt, Victor J. Zolfo
• “The Dark Knight”: Nathan Crowley, Peter Lando
• “The Duchess”: Michael Carlin, Rebecca Alleway***
• “Revolutionary Road”: Kristi Zea, Debra Schutt***

Personal opinion: Okay, time for total guesses; although “Button” is the odds favorite, I also was impressed by its ability to recreate the past and follow its progress up to Hurricane Katrina

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

• “Australia”: Catherine Martin***
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Jacqueline West
• “The Duchess”: Michael O’Connor***
• “Milk”: Danny Glicker
• “Revolutionary Road”: Albert Wolsky***

Personal opinion: No idea; the two I saw were impressive, but the other three are period pieces which tend to impress the Academy (“The Duchess” is the odds favorite)

BEST MAKEUP

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Greg Cannon
• “The Dark Knight”: John Caglione Jr., Conor O’Sullivan
• “Hellboy II: The Golden Army”: Mike Elizade, Thomas Floutz

Personal opinion: So now that I’m deep in the “underqualified” territory for me (even though I’ve seen all of the candidates), I’m going with the pick that most cosmetically impressed me, which managed to capture Guillermo del Toro’s fancies of the imagination using the now old-school techniques of makeup and set design; “TDK” created an indelible Joker, but I don’t think much else makeup-wise was worthy, and wasn’t “Button” mostly CGI? I’m glad “The Reader” wasn’t included for its risible aged Kate Winslet scene

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Alexandre Desplat
• “Defiance”: James Newton Howard***
• “Milk”: Danny Elfman
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: A.R. Rahman
• “WALL-E”: Thomas Newman

Personal opinion: The most reliable element for “Slumdog” was its soundtrack

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

• “Slumdog Millionaire”: A.R. Rahman, Sampooran Sigh Gulzar (“Jai Ho”)
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: A.R. Rahman, M.I.A. (“O Saya”)
• “WALL-E”: Peter Gabriel, Thomas Newman (“Down to Earth”)

Personal opinion: With an absent Bruce Springsteen (even though after the effective ending of “The Wrestler,” I felt compelled to stay in my seat when The Boss began singing), I will go with Peter Gabriel (who will refrain from performing Sunday in protest of a shortened performance time) because I think votes will be split between the “Slumdog” contenders; Why don’t you decide?

BEST SOUND MIXING

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: David Parker et al.
• “The Dark Knight”: Ed Novick et al.
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: Ian Tapp et al.
• “WALL-E”: Tom Myers et al.
• “Wanted”: Chris Jenkins et al.

Personal opinion: I’m not qualified for this, but I bet “TDK” put a lot more money in this than its competitors

BEST SOUND EDITING

• “The Dark Knight”: Richard King
• “Iron Man”: Frank E. Fulner, Christopher Boyes
• “Slumdog Millionaire”: Tom Sayers
• “WALL-E”: Ben Burtt, Matthew Wood
• “Wanted”: Wyle Stateman

Personal opinion: What exactly is the difference between this and sound mixing?

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Eric Barba et al.
• “The Dark Knight”: Nick Davis et al.
• “Iron Man”: John Nelson et al.

Personal opinion: I was most impressed by “Button”’s ability to make a reverse-aging Brad Pitt

BEST ANIMATED FILM

• “Bolt”: Chris Williams, Byron Howard
• “Kung Fu Panda”: John Stevenson, Mark Osborne
• “WALL-E”: Andrew Stanton

Personal opinion: Although I liked the other two films, I think “WALL-E” is the no-brainer winner.

BEST FORIGN LANGUAGE FILM

• “The Baader Meinhof Complex” (Germany)***
• “The Class” (France)***
• “Departures” (Japan)***
• “Revanche” (Austria)***
• “Waltz with Bashir” (Israel)***

Personal opinion: The first category for which I’ve not seen a single nominee; I’ll go with “Waltz” because of its immense buzz, but “The Class” did earn itself a Palme D’Or

BEST DOCUMENTARY

• “The Betrayal: Nerakhoon”: Ellen Kuras, Thavisouk Phrasavath***
• “Encounters at the End of the World”: Werner Herzog, Henry Kaiser
• “The Garden”: Scott Hamilton Kennedy***
• “Man on Wire”: James Marsh, Simon Chinn
• “Trouble the Water”: Tia Lessin, Carl Deal***

Personal opinion: I loved both the films I saw, but if I have to pick a favorite…

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT

• “The Conscience of Nhem En”: Steven Okazaki***
• “The Final Inch”: Irene Taylor Brodsky, Tom Grant***
• “Smile Pinki”: Megan Mylan***
• “The Witness from the Balcony of Room 306″: Adarm Pertofsky, Margaret Hyde***

Personal opinion: Went with the odds favorite since I have no idea or opinion about these

BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT FILM

• “Auf der Strecke”: Reto Caffi***
• “Manon sure le bitume”: Elizabeth Marre, Olivier Pont***
• “New Boy”: Steph Green, Tamara Anghie***
• “Grisen”: Tivi Magnusson, Dorthe Warnø Høgh***
• “Spielzeugland”: Jochen Alexander Freydank***

Personal opinion: Again without a clue so went with the odds favorite

BEST ANIMATED SHORT FILM

• “La Maison en petite cubes”: Kunio Katô***
• “Lavatory-Lovestory”: Konstantin Bronzit
• “Oktapodi”: Errud Mokhberi, Thierry Marchand
• “Presto”: Doug Sweetland
• “This Way Up”: Alan Smith, Adam Foulkes

Personal opinion: This is a difficult category; Why not go with the first one I saw? Pixar does have some experience winning this category in the past (“For the Birds,” which was double-billed with “Monster, Inc.”), but “This Way Up” has much levity despite its grave focus (guffaw!), and “Oktapodi” is brief but tasty (bringing to mind the eating a live octopus scene in “Old Boy”); so to finish this off, here is one option for your consideration [Update: all of the links have been killed, so could only re-find one, which may also be short-lived]

***

For a final count, I have “Slumdog,” “Button,” and “TDK” all in the lead with four trophies each, “WALL-E” next with three, and nine other films with one win each. “The Reader” and “Frost/Nixon” are the only Best Film nominees without any gold in my predictions.

Now, I’ll be interested in how these picks compare with the actual winners, but I expect to be disappointed many times, since, well, what is the Academy good for except undeserved recognition?

I expect a blasé affair on Sunday, but there’s potential for a pleasant surprise or two. Maybe in this economic downturn there will be redemption for the deserving underdog. But probably not.

Those who can, do. Those who can’t, criticize.

Film criticism and filmmaking are often mutually exclusive affairs. If an individual delves into both realms, they are usually at opposite ends of one’s lifetime and rarely a concurrent concern. This seems only appropriate since a critic carries with her or him a stigma of the dull curmudgeon who seeks failure in others, while the artist is championed as the thinker and creator and bringer of all things good; the titular aphorism captures this popular sentiment. So it is an interesting study to look at careers that have ventured between these polar opposites of worlds, sometimes meeting disaster, other times celebration.

***

A temporary transition can mean both failure and veneration. Roger Ebert strayed for a moment from his film criticism to aide and abet to the soft-core skimpiness that is Russ Meyer, first by helping pen “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” and then moving on to other colorful works, such as “Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens,” “Up!,” and almost—meaning, filming lasted only one and a half days before the axe came, as reminisced by the Pulitzer prize winner himself—“Who Killed Bambi?,” which would have featured the Sex Pistols.

Fortunately, Mr. Ebert returned to film criticism and has stayed put to this day, gaining national fame with a movie review television show and now, after losing his actual voice to thyroid cancer, he maintains a simulated voice on paper. Even if he does like a few too many movies (e.g. “Garfield: The Movie”, “Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties”), his opinion is still welcome and cherished.

***

Peter Bogdanovich took a similar path as Mr. Ebert; although his peak was an Everest in comparison, his Hollywood fame was equally ephemeral. Mr. Bogdanovich first established his name by writing for Esquire before making the leap to the silver world. Getting a start under Roger Corman’s tutelage may be a hindrance for many an aspiring director (if Corman were a one man B-movie factory, then Russ Meyer was a sexploitation brothel), but Mr. Bogdanovich quickly broke the mold in his directorial debut, “Targets,” a thriller mirroring the recent Whitman shootings at the University of Texas (the film was released two years after this tragedy) that starred Boris Karloff essentially playing himself under the guise of Byron Orlok, a fading horror star (Karloff is best known for his incarnation as the monster in James Whale’s “Frankenstein”). While other notable directors also served some time under Corman (e.g. Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Jonathan Demme), none really accomplished anything praiseworthy while with Corman. With “Targets,” Mr. Bogdanovich captures the paranoia and anger prevalent in America after the recent assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy. Orlok is content with retirement after realizing his old form of horror is not scary any more, with apparent random acts of violence everywhere in the newspapers. So while at a drive-in theater to give one of his final speeches, Orlok is fed up when a sniper starts taking out some of his paying customers, and so he walks up to the lunatic and smacks the bejesus out of him with a cane.

A 21-year-old Cybill Shepherd in "The Last Picture Show"

Mr. Bogdanovich’s next three films, “The Last Picture Show” (one of my all time favorites), “What’s Up Doc?,” and “Paper Moon” (which won the 10-year-old Tatum O’Neal an Oscar), were his last worthy efforts before he let personal feelings get in his way. After “The Last Picture Show,” Mr. Bogdanovich started an affair with Cybill Shepherd, one of the young stars in that film, and went on to create one failure after another starring his fiasco muse. After Ms. Shepherd, former Playmate Dorothy Stratten became his fix, and following another mediocre film (“They All Laughed,” although Quentin Tarantino claims this is one of his favorite 10 films in a Sight & Sound survey) that ended in a murder-suicide (after which, he started a relationship with Stratten’s 19-year-old sister), his stint as a respected artist was kaput.

Although he continues making films (“Humbolt County” was released last year and has a Rotten Tomatoes score of 58%), his current significance is that of the author, with 13 books to his name, including the much acclaimed “This is Orson Welles.” Maybe he has a masterpiece left in him, but after three decades of mostly drivel, maybe I’ll just check the bookstore for anything of value from Mr. Bogdanovich in the future.

***

Other times, when the transition from critic to filmmaker is unilateral, splendor is the result. Cahiers du Cinema has been a spawning point for directorial talent since its inception almost 60 years ago. Some of its earliest writers went on to establish some of the most creative and influential film careers: the main force behind the New Wave, François Truffaut (who developed auteur theory while on staff, but is best known for “The Antoine Doinel Cycle,” which started with “The 400 Blows”) and Jean-Luc Godard (recently deceased, whose joie de vivre in film remained unparalleled until, perhaps, Wong Kar-Wai’s “Chungking Express”), as well as Jacques Rivette (who is still making movies, most recently with last year’s period marble “The Duchess of Langeais”) and Claude Chabrol (also staying productive in the previous year with the smart thriller “A Girl Cut in Two”).

One of the most recent Cahiers alumnus turned success is Olivier Assayas. Mr. Assayas first came into prominence in 1996 with “Irma Vep,” starring Maggie Cheung (the future Mrs. Assayas and ex-Mrs. Assayas) as a Hong Kong actress by the name of Maggie Cheung flown in to Paris to play the lead, Irma Vep (an anagram for “vampire”), in a remake of Louis Feuillade’s film about a gang of burglars who target only the filthy rich, “Les vampires.” Jean-Pierre Léaud’s Rene Vidal is the washed-up New Wave director in charge of the ill-fated production (which seems not too far-fetched since Mr. Léaud played Truffaut’s alter-ego, Antoine Doinel, for almost 20 years; also note the film’s focus on a troubled film production mirrors that of Truffaut’s own “Day for Night,” which also featured Mr. Léaud), with the origins of the project seemingly based on an idea of a necessity for hommage.

Maggie—who is fitted for a full body latex outfit modeled after Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman from “Batman Returns”—spends much of the film in isolation, not physically (she rarely has a moment to herself) but linguistically (she speaks no French) and maybe eventually metaphysically. She finds herself the only person on set that has faith in Vidal’s vision for the film, or at least she has faith that Vidal has a vision for the film; she even has to defend him against an annoying French critic in an interview who spews out rhetoric for an outdated view of current French cinema (perhaps another homage to Truffaut, the feisty critic), saying all French films were pretentious and dull and made only to be watched by intellectuals and philistines (note that Luc Besson, who had popularized the “cinema du look” school of thought that promoted an agenda of all style and little or no substance, had just released “The Fifth Element,” the antithesis of this critic’s appraisal; this brawns over brains mentality is also present in recent films with Mr. Besson’s name attached as producer, such as “District B13,” “Revolver” and “Taken”).

Maggie is the exotic object of affection for both the director Vidal (and concurrently the actual director, Mr. Assayas) and the costume designer and frequent chauffeur, Zoe (as one of Zoe’s friends bluntly explains to Maggie, “She likes girls. She likes latex. She likes you.”), despite the fact both know very little about her. When Vidal explained to Maggie after watching a clip from Johnnie To’s “The Heroic Trio” that his reason for casting her was because of her grace in the action scenes in that film, her admission that the stunts were performed by a double does little to lessen his enthusiasm. Maggie’s isolation is not dismissed as simply being a product of coming from a different place or being of a different ethnicity, as Sofia Coppola did in her (unintentionally?) racist “Lost in Translation.” Maggie has a nominal influence on her surroundings (excluding desire) and is often treated as invisible (she is more often forgotten than ignored), and hence she can fluently make the transition from fiction to reality; when Maggie is alone in her hotel room, she dons her catsuit and becomes a burglar for the night, stealing a necklace from an unsuspecting neighbor (who is distracted by complaining on a phone to an lover about how bored and isolated she is as an outsider in Paris, mirroring Maggie’s own plight) before escaping to the roof in the rain and dropping the loot off a ledge. The necklace, which seemed a low priority for its owner, will surely be missed in its absence, much like Maggie will only be wanted when she is late (and eventually permanently absent from the production) but not when she is actually on the set.

After the production falls into chaos, all that is left is a short film edited by Vidal the night before he decides to leave the film, which also serves as a transcendent point of departure for Mr. Assayas’ film and this discussion:

A Look at the Best Picture Nominees

Now, with fewer than three weeks before the big ceremony (but possibly lackluster viewing public), I will return my focus (hopefully briefly) to the Oscars. As I indicated in a past post, the nominees for Best Picture are no where near my favorite of the year. (I had claimed none were higher than 25 on my ranking system, but after a viewing of “Rachel Getting Married,” I will update this number to 26.) However, this does not mean I hated every movie, just that I wasn’t wholeheartedly in love with any.

Yesterday I finally caught up on the final two films nominated this year, “Frost/Nixon” and “The Reader.” And so now, with this unnecessary feat under my belt, I will direct my thoughts to these films (with a warning now that critical plot elements may be discussed in detail). I will address each in order of preference:

***

”Milk”: This is my pick for Best Picture, even if it wasn’t my favorite Gus Van Sant movie of the year (that would be “Paranoid Park”). I generally take offense at biopics. Often in this genre, the humanity is extracted from the subject of the film and replaced with some variation of the religious/ethnic/fill-in-the-blank martyr/savior/both, with any mistakes made throughout his or her life exchanged for a halo. The result is more hagiography than biography, and the viewer is only allowed to feel admiration or awe for the subject rather than understanding or empathy. “Milk” is no exception.

But Mr. Van Sant is too talented a director and Sean Penn too clever an actor to let this completely weigh down the film into the depths of banal melodrama that is “Men of Honor” or “Radio” (or, to have a selection of movies not starring Cuba Gooding, Jr., there is equal or worse dross with “Patch Adams” or “Rudy”). For an inspired twist in Christ symbolism, Harvey Milk strikes the Jesus pose at a rally when he extends his arms in cheer, with canted hips, limp wrists and a blissful smile.

Even though Mr. Van Sant claimed the pending Proposition 8 vote did not influence his decision to make this film, it seems impossible to believe that there was no alternative agenda—for at least his producers. But sometimes these can be for the best, like how Spike Lee’s determined ire at apartheid helped elevate “Malcolm X” to a masterpiece (the last sequence in this film included a classroom of South African students declaring “I am Malcom X” before Nelson Mandela delivers a speech first given by the assassinated civil rights leader). The last scene in “Milk” shows actual footage of a candle vigil held in the honor of both the slain mayor and Milk (preceded by an unconvincing display by Milk’s former lover and his campaign manager acting surprised by no one showing up to a small ceremony in Milk’s honor and then realizing everyone was at the vigil; cue the Hollywood tears). I only wish Mr. Van Sant had shown a little more anger.

In conclusion, I want to talk about pie. In the film, you learn to hate Anita Bryant and her demented homophobic more-holy-than-thou nonsense. You just wanted to punch her, or maybe throw a pie in her face. Well, somebody did that for you:

***

”The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: Against my expectations (based partly on the running time of two hours and 45 minutes), David Fincher’s vision of a man who ages backwards (sort of based on an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story of the same name) actually felt short. However, the 13 nominations it received seem a bit extreme. When one weighs in the technical wonders this film achieved, maybe about 6 of them are warranted (and the others suspect but not completely unfounded).

As a whole, this film felt very much like Robert Zemeckis’s “Forrest Gump”: both used Eric Roth screenplays; both were told primarily in flashback; both spent the majority of the time somewhere in the South; both involved a lifelong love interest (Forrest and Jenny/Benjamin and Daisy) without an entirely convincing argument as to why the relationship should work out; both included an eccentric, alcoholic boat captain (Lieutenant Dan/Captain Mike); both had a reoccurring image of a small object easily carried by the wind (a feather/hummingbird). But one thing “Button” had working for it that “Forrest Gump” lacked (and hence why I prefer “Button” to “Gump”) was an insistent stillness and calm throughout. Even during the boat wreck, Brad Pitt’s Benjamin remained stoic, ready to face the death the doctor told his mother was imminent the day he was born.

Benjamin spent the majority of his life trying to fade away, and when he returns to visit Daisy and his daughter after a 12 year absence, he is little more than a shadow or a ghost (Daisy had to squint to recognize him). By this time, the film had already started to fade away, perhaps lessening its initial impact but prolonging its overall effect.

***

”Frost/Nixon”: I’m sure if I were alive during the 1970s that I would’ve been deeply offended by the mockery Richard Nixon made of the United States presidency (but after eight years of Bush, Nixon could be a saint). Alas, for the film that is, I was not, and hence, cared pretty much not at all for the premise. I hate politicians and think most are scumbags, and so I wasn’t sure what I would gain from watching this movie.

What I gained was prolonged exposure to an utterly entrancing Frank Langella as the quondam president (and, to a lesser extent, a proficient Michael Sheen as the under-qualified reporter). Mr. Langella embodied every perspiring pore of Nixon with conviction, making Anthony Hopkin’s incarnation seem like that of an amateur.

The high point came during a phone discussion that began with cheeseburgers. At the time of the (previously) famous interview, both Nixon and Frost needed a victory to return to some form of respect, by the public or at least themselves. Both were desperate. After the cheeseburgers, the conversation turned to a shared humble origin and subsequently staggeringly earned top education, while the bred elite looked down on them. Even after their many accomplishments, their college peers would still look on them. So, as Mr. Langella/Nixon put it, “We’re going to show those bums. We’re going to make them choke on our continued headlines, our continued awards and power and glory. We are going to make those motherfuckers choke! Am I right?”

Well, I wouldn’t be upset (or surprised) if Mr. Langella were to continue with the continued awards and glory come Oscar night.

***

”Slumdog Millionaire”: Danny Boyle is most comfortable when he deals with dreams and delusions, either drug induced (“Trainspotting”), post apocalyptic zombie induced (“28 Days Later”), or extraterrestrial psychopath induced (“Sunshine”). Here he found himself another delusion with this story about a boy from the Mumbai slums with no formal education who chances his way to the 20 million rupee question on an Indian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” only to then put all of his faith in love (and chance again) just to be rewarded with eternal happiness and a Bollywood dance sequence (the best scene in the film). I feel the movie would have benefited had it ended with an it-was-all-a-dream twist (à la “Dallas”).

Regardless, no matter how crass I can try to be, it still was an uplifting and adrenaline-filled film, despite all of the claustrophobic poverty, (literally) scatological humor, and torture. This still is Mr. Boyle at his most comfortable, but it’s also him at his least convincing. It started to go downhill after the cute little kids were replaced with tweeners and then dull puppets. This is Mr. Boyle’s Cinderella story, where comeuppance comes only for those who cross Jamal on his way to and from the ball. But Cinderella at least had some suspense. The Prince had to search a kingdom looking for the foot to fit a lost slipper, while Mr. Boyle just seemed to pull a foot out of his ass for his fairy tale ending.

Anyhow, this is still the front runner for Best Picture. It’s a happy story but an empty story, but maybe that’s what the Academy wants in this ongoing economic crisis. Some optimism would be nice. If only it had any substance of thought.

***

”The Reader”: What is remarkable about this film is how unremarkable it was. This is the biggest question mark on the nominations ballot, but it shows that Harvey Weinstein is quite the Hollywood juggernaut.

Ralph Feinnes plays a sad man still troubled by a teenage summer affair with an ex-Nazi, played by the often good (and often nude) Kate Winslet. There is a twist in it, and I commend you if you didn’t see it coming. I noticed one sequence late in the film that appeared to be a reveal or epiphany type moment, where we would be shown a montage of images from earlier showing Ms. Winslet taking rather obvious actions to avoid assuming the titular role and thus upsetting the delicate feelings of the former lover. If this was a surprise to you, then maybe there was the potential for you to see a point to sitting through this droning and moaning mess of competing insignificance, first between Ms. Winslet and the newcommer David Kross, then Mr. Fiennes with an aged Ms. Winslet.  (Why must nominations be given to anyone who wears a lot of makeup?)

Still wondering about the twist? She’s illiterate, and she is so ashamed of this fact that she falsely claims authorship to a horrible document (involving Auschwitz) to hide her handicap and so goes to jail for a long time. Some other stuff happens with some books on tape, and then, gasp, suicide. Oh yeah, and another father daughter reconciliation.

There, now you don’t have to watch it.