As the red carpets are rolled up, smashed champagne flutes are swept away and the giant cock and balls complete with hairy sack which a dejected Banksy tagged onto the side of the Kodak theatre is covered with something less offensive, it’s time to reflect on the 83rd Academy Awards. And time once again to point out where the voters went wrong.
In this humble writer with a big dicks opinion The King’s Speech was an undeserved victor. The film, while joyous and more than an accomplished piece of film-making, did not exemplify the best of what this little blue planet as to offer. It was ‘the film of the moment’ not ‘a film for the ages’. In my mind that honour goes to The Social Network.
How’s this for a plot synopsis to make Ed Wood, Russ Meyer and Garth Marenghi weep; When his daughter is killed by Satanists, who then kidnap his baby granddaughter to sacrifice her and bring about the end of the world, Milton breaks out of hell and hits the road in an attempt to save her life. He’s accompanied by a sexy waitress and pursued throughout by The Accountant, the Devil’s right-hand man… In 3D!!! (Synopsis written by Empire’s Chris Hewitt)
I don’t know about you but I’m already standing in line with my popcorn and specs.
Say what you want about Hollywood and their dire output but the studio heads still have plans, ideas and rules. One such rule would be never greenlight anything like the batshit craziness of above, unless, unless you have a star attached. Thank the maker then for one Nicholas Kim Coppola.
In Sir William Goldman’s book of essays on Hollywood, The Big Picture, (I added the Sir) the screenwriter repeatedly eschews the virtues of the Academy Awards. Happy to admit they are tacky and crass, it’s the importance of them that must not be forgotten. They are after all, “the lead phrase in most obituaries.”
They also, always, provoke rage and bile like no other awards (the comical Globes just provoke distain) but most importantly, they get people talking about movies. And if you’re on this site, either as a first timer or repeated reader, you’re here because you love talking about movies.
Today you don’t have to just talk. Today you get to vote. And in a move tantamount to the most charitable piece of giving since Mother Teresa invented text message donations we’ve given you the option of adding your own opinion. Please use it carefully, all votes for The Bounty Hunter will not only be ignored but we’ll also send ‘Dog’ round to your house.
Results will be announced Oscar Night so hit us back, in the meantime. Let the voting commence.
Cinema Comedy is dead. May it Rest in Peace. But before we order a 211 Terrace shaped wreath, let’s consider the evidence. Is there a single film in the last 12 months that stands up as pure Comedy Gold? The short answer is No. Four Lions was great, but not solely for the gags. Easy A was more memorable for being touching than for guffaws. Was Kick Ass action/comedy or comedy/action? There are arguably as many laugh out loud moments in The Social Network as in any of the above. Can we label that a comedy? Mark Zuckerberg might try.
And every straight out comedy, The Other Guys, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night fell well far off the mark. So can 2011 revive comedy’s carcass? Surely Paul, the new Fregg and Post film will turn the tide? Nope, nope and nope. Again the Facebook film has more genuine laughs. But by no means does that make Paul a bad film. Just one that is not as funny as you’d hope.
If you didn’t see last night’s British Academy of Film and Television Arts awards (without the Television bit) join us for a recap of the evening’s entertainment. If you did, join us anyway and see if you learnt as much as we did.
We Can Love Ourselves.
Winston Churchill once said, “The British nation is unique in this respect. They are the only people who like to be told how bad things are, who like to be told the worst, and like to be told that they are very likely to get much worse in the future.” Not many Brits would argue with the man, least of all because we don’t argue we discuss, but mainly because one of our defining characteristics as a nation is that we romanticise failure to the point of absurdity. So how nice it was to see us pat ourselves on the back at last night’s ceremony by giving every other award to the very British The King’s Speech. Three for acting, two for Best Film and a few more for technical achievements, if we could have nominated it for animation it probably would have won that too.
Love and Death. They really are the biggies. Mr. Woody Allen hypothesised this on the subject, “It’s best not to look on death as the end, but as more of a very effective way to cut down on your expenses. As for love it’s the quality not the quantity that counts. Although if the quantity drops below once in eight months, I’d look into it.”
There are, of course, a million more takes on the coupling, (the Iron and Wine ditty ‘The Trapeze Swinger’ is the one that resonates for this writer) but if you take the bulk of things that move any of us you’ll find one or the other present. Love and Death.
With its tragic subject matter etched into ever frame, Never Let Me Go promised to add to the list. It not only achieved this with admirable finesse but surpasses the marker and is elevated, instead, to one of the more important takes on both subjects for quite some time.
“The fact is,” Bill Bryson said, “Britain is still the best place in the world for most things – to post a letter, go for a walk, watch television, buy a book, venture out for a drink, go to a museum, get lost, seek help, or stand on a hillside and take in the view”.
Fair play to you Bill but you neglected a few other choice articles. For example, few people in any civilised society would tolerate, let alone promote, the existence of Jordan and Peter Andre and no-one but no-one would proudly display their national flag with the name of the country inscribed upon it (actually that one is exclusively the cry of a few demented English).
He also, one would assume completely purposefully, neglected to praise how we as The British ‘make movies’. That would, more than likely, be down to the phrase, ‘the best place in the world’, for as patriotic as you may be, it’d be a foolhardy cineaste who believes this little Isle produces the best films in the entire world. And besides, even if we were, no true British person is that arrogant.
But every now and again we have a bloody good try and so, in honour of Time Out’s exhaustive compilation, available here (http://www.timeout.com/london/bestbritishfilms/) I decided to throw in my two pennies. Hope you do the same.
Never Let Me Go starring Keira Knightley, Carey Mulligan and Andrew Garfield is released this Friday (11th) and is the adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s hit novel of the same name.
After hearing some women discussing Keira Knightley whilst looking at a display for the film in a derogatory fashion it occurred to me that due to the level of success and fame that she has had at such a young age Knightley still has a level of detractors who resort to name calling as a method of derision. In response to this I found myself thinking about how much I actually like her as an actress and why she should be praised.
Working as a projectionist you get used to watching films for which you have the lowest of expectations. Thus, watching Winter’s Bone was an unusual experience for me. If I’m honest, my expectations were so high I was almost reluctant to actually watch the film should my experience fall short. To my delight my apprehensions were unfounded because everything you’ve heard is true. Whilst it’s not always easy to watch, Debra Granik’s third feature is gripping from the outset, thanks in part to a breakout performance by potential Oscar darling Jennifer Lawrence.
In what could prove the role of a life time Lawrence plays the steely ‘Ree Dolly’, a teenage girl who is left to care and fight for her ramshackle family. With the families ailing livelihood under threat Ree is forced to persue her dead beat father and venture into the unscrupulous underbelly of the Ozarks, a remote mountain range spanning the central United States. As you’d expect, the only thing more inhospitable than the terrain are the local meth heads and pushers who, for reasons undisclosed do their best to keep Ree at arms length.
Although Lawrence’s performance is the main focus of press chatter it’d would be remiss of me to ignore the contributions of the supporting cast. Garret Dillahunt once again proves himself to be one of the most supportive actors in town following on from small but perfectly formed roles in some of the best movies of recent years (see No Country for Old Men, The Assassination of Jesse James and The Road). Whilst their screen time is limited the young actors who play Ree’s younger siblings should also be acknowledged as although small, their on screen vulnerability is crucial in quickly establishing the family’s dire straits.
Having said all that, there is really only one substantial supporting role in the whole movie. Whilst John Hawkes has been working pretty steadily for the past twenty years he is arguably best known for his roles on the small screen, (like the afformentioned Dillahunt, he had a supporting role in the under appreciated show Deadwood). If there is any justice in the world Winter’s Bone should put pay to that. If Lawrence is a shoe in for an Oscar nom, then Hawke’s role as Ree’s conflicted uncle ‘Teardrop’ certainly gives him an outside shot at joining her in the winners circle.
Should you still need convincing as to the merits of this film then look no further than the above picture. Despite her relative inexperience with a megaphone writer/director Granik fills every scene with contrast. Her experience as a cinematographer seems to have paid off in her filming of the untamed Ozark region. Within single frames Ree’s surroundings seem stunning yet bleak, terrifying yet homely, dangerous yet protected.
Usually at this point I dredge up some pernickety beef I have conjured up for the sake of vitriol but in this case there is nothing. Instead I will utalise these vacant lines to point out that the sparingly used soundtrack is also excellent. Whilst it may not have the bravado of a Mansell or Giacchino score the sparce combination of traditional Blue Grass numbers and atmospheric score, composed by Brit rocker, Dickon Hinchliffe of Tindersticks fame, is a perfect accompaniment.
Pixar is an amazing computer animated film company. They churn out hit after hit, each film in turn tugging on our heart strings, tickling our funny bone and winning commercial and critical acclaim (Toy Story 3 is Oscar nominated for Best Picture!). It’s hard to see this company putting a foot wrong (fingers crossed for Cars 2 though), their films breaking new ground and pleasing us with their unique style and beautiful aesthetics.
It’s a good job that Disney re-teamed with these giants to help recover their animation crown. Disney had their shot at computer animation with films such as Chicken Little,Meet the Robinsons and Bolt 3D all charming but all near misses and nowhere near to Pixar’s usual strengths. However Disney gave it another go, one more chance to prove themselves, which leads me neatly onto Tangled.
