Entries associated with the tag "Academy Awards":

Viewing some very different documentaries at this year's Toronto International Film Festival, I was reminded just how essential theatrical nonfiction films have become in this age of instant TV sound bites and Internet replays. Being the first with the story doesn't mean being the best, and as far as broadcast news is concerned, there's rarely time for adequate background. Perspective improves with reflection.

Filmmakers Richard Parry and Vaughan Smith had 15 years to polish the story of Blood Trail; the two British correspondents first met their subject, American war photographer Robert King, in Sarajevo in 1993. At that time King was a charming but naive art school graduate inspired by Robert Capa and determined to bag a Pulitzer. Parry, Smith, and the rest of the press corps thought he wouldn't last, but King survived his learning curve and, working several continents, gradually earned respect for his tenacity, resourcefulness, and uncanny knack for being in the right war zone at the right time.

What makes Blood Trail exceptional is its behind-the-scenes look at how the news business has changed over time and how its pressures and dangers change its practitioners. We watch a boyish King grow into a weathered cynic and see his ability to capture telling images compromised by having to work while embedded in U.S. military operations in Iraq. This trenchant portrait was to be featured in the current Chicago International Film Festival, but the filmmakers withdrew it to limit festival exposure, hoping to get into the higher-profile South by Southwest and Sundance. That's a loss for Chicago, but it's also the road to snagging commercial distribution and reaching a wider audience.

Another Toronto documentary entry that delved much deeper than the headlines was Leon Geller and Marcus Vetter's The Heart of Jenin, a moving tale of a grieving Palestinian father who saved five lives. In 2005, 12-year-old Ahmed Khatib died in Jenin in the West Bank after an Israeli soldier mistook the boy's realistic toy gun for a Kalashnikov assault rifle and opened fire. Ahmed's father, Ismael, was persuaded by an ER physician to donate Ahmed's vital organs to area residents in need of transplants, including a young girl from a Druze village, a Bedouin boy in the Negev, and a tiny Orthodox Jewish girl in Jerusalem. Over the years the recipients grow healthy and Ismael finds meaningful work running a children's educational center in Jenin; the film culminates in his meetings with the children's families. The Israeli-American Geller and his German codirector Vetter artfully blend archival shots from local news with contemporary footage to paint a fuller picture than the initial TV coverage could. The stated purpose of the film is to foster peace in a divided region, but the Khatibs' story has also promoted progress in another corner of the world: business magnate Sultan Al Qassemi of the United Arab Emirates recently cited Ismael's decision in an op-ed urging the UAE to adopt organ donor legislation.

Ari Folman's animated documentary Waltz With Bashir (which I wrote about in an earlier post) is in the news again: this memoir about Israel's first war in Lebanon recently won six Ophirs from the Israeli Film Academy, including Best Movie, which automatically makes it Israel's Oscar submission for Best Foreign Language Film. But it's been shut out of the Oscar competition for Best Documentary because of changes in the eligibility rules, which stipulate that a nonfiction feature must screen for one week each in Los Angeles and New York before August 31. The new rule creates a dilemma for filmmakers hoping to play a prestigious fall festival like Telluride, Toronto, or New York, all of which value premieres; producers must now decide whether they want to bypass early reviews in the international press and open their films in the U.S. during the dog days of summer. Winning an Oscar can mean a great deal to a documentary, but as Alex Gibney found with his 2008 winner Taxi to the Dark Side, it doesn't guarantee box office returns. Gibney wound up suing his distributor, THINKFilm, for not capitalizing adequately on his win.

Shot up in bed yesterday morning with a single anxious thought running through my head: "Is this Oscar-night Sunday or what?"

My one and only, who remembers these things better than I do ("O look, there's Penelope Cruz lifting her feet so Ellen DeGeneres can vac the front-row carpet," etc), assured me in her own estimable 5 AM way that yes, it was indeed that unavoidable day (or night) . . . which means that by then I'll need a couple new inches of snow, so I can haul out the shovel, clear the town-house walks, slip on the ice and tear a rotator cuff, call 911 and get airlifted to the nearest emergency-room facility, as more or less did happen (except for the 911 transport) a Sunday or two ago. Just another Oscar-avoidance evening in the making . . .

Not that I hate Oscar so much, because actually I don't—I simply don't pay that much attention. And it's not an attitudinal or put-on thing—at least not mainly—since not once in my life have I ever watched the whole damn telecast straight through. Besides which, we just gave away our minimally operable 30-year-old Motorola—sometimes the antenna worked, on some of the channels anyway—so it's not even the NCAA Final Four for me this year.

But already you've probably scanned our online selection of Reader Oscar picks, to which I've contributed my own harebrained assortment of shipwreck candidates. A society of choosers is what we are, with everyone obliged to make at least a dozen or so whether he/she's inclined to or not—Hillary or Barack? Jif or Skippy? Toyota or Suzuki? M&M's or Mary Janes?—as part of the whole freedom package, what our "Western values" are all about, the kinds of things Al Qaeda and the Taliban allegedly want to kill us for.

Except: I couldn't have told you what was on the awards list without an official trot sheet spelling it all out in big, bold categories, like judicial retention ballots in general election years. Best picture—well, there's Reygadas's Silent Light, my own enthusiastic nominee for '07, with everything else an afterthought . . . except it didn't make any of the eligibles, right? Or best director—always P.T. Anderson, whatever he's been up to . . . which is pretty much how I decide on judges too: another one who's Irish—automatically out! And who are these other guys anyway? Yeah, the Coens, especially if crosscutting close-ups are your thing: what contemporary prefab "best direction" apparently comes down to these days. And don't even get me started on the Butterfly guy . . .

Also the screenplays (original or adapted) . . . also the, ahem, "performances" . . . also the cinematography (which seems more about calendar art and House Beautiful spreads than anything cinematographic—another one saved in the editing room!)—stuff you can't, or wouldn't even want to, single out if the movie's coming together the way it should. And "costumes"—the most radical being the ones that didn't exist in Ten Canoes (another ineligible: wrong country, wrong year), no bonnets or frippery, just the literal, unadorned, down-to-earth truth! But the year's deal breaker has to be "best supporting actor"—button-down dullards all, dependably skilled at what they do, also dependably forgettable: another month and we'll wonder what all the teapot fussing was for. Which is why, in that one lonely category, I initially opted for Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson from Southland Tales, just to be mean and ornery, but also as a provocation: enough of these judicious, measuring-rod approaches, the inconsequence of incremental "perfection." Like grading term papers . . . except it's supposed to be about "aaarrrrttt."

But now it's Paul Dano as my new, inspired supporting-actor "choice" (see comments thread here): better a raw, hysterically confused, freaked-out amateur than all that anally retentive baggage, somebody you can feel the conflicting energies coursing through (because they actually are!), remember indelibly for years—positively, negatively, whatever the alternative is fine.

So: Academy Awards with passion—who'd even dream of such a thing?

Hey, glad you could make it! Let me take your coat. What are you drinking? Guinness? Well, how about Old Style? This is a free paper, you know.

Yeah, we realize the Oscars are hopelessly corrupt, but we needed an excuse for a party. We've all filled out ballots, and here's what we'd like to see win:

PAT GRAHAM  Best Picture: There Will Be Blood. Best Director: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Original Screenplay: Tamara Jenkins, The Savages. Best Adapted Screenplay: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Actress: Laura Linney, The Savages ("choice with a figurative gun to my head, though Nicole Kidman in Margot at the Wedding's more to my liking"). Best Actor: Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises. Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett, I'm Not There ("easiest of all the procrustean decisions here, with fewest reservations—though oddly enough I did have a couple on first viewing"). Best Animated Feature: Persepolis ("unfortunately"). Best Cinemathography: Robert Elswit, There Will Be Blood ("though how much actually has to do with Elswit, since most of the important logistical choices—re where to position the camera and how scenes ought to reveal themselves through evolutionary long takes rather than editing-room montage—belong to the director rather than the cinematographer [or at least ought to], and seem open to debate"). Best Editing: Christopher Rouse, The Bourne Ultimatum (really brilliant, in a frenetic, hyperactive way that, unfortunately, makes for a movie badly in need of an anchor"). Best Costume Design: Albert Wolsky, Across the Universe ("just to get the movie in there somewhere...what do I know about costumes?").

ANDREA GRONVALL  Best Picture: No Country for Old Men. Best Director: Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Best Original Screenplay: Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton. Best Adapted Screenplay: Ronald Harwood, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Best Actress: Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose. Best Actor: Daniel Day Lewis, There Will Be Blood. Best Supporting Actress: Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone. Best Supporting Actor: Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men. Best Foreign Language Film: Beaufort. Best Documentary Feature: Sicko. Best Animated Feature: Persepolis. Best Cinematography: Janusz Kaminski, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Best Editing: Christopher Rouse, The Bourne Ultimatum. Best Art Direction: Dante Ferretti/Francesco Lo Sciavo, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Best Costume Design: Colleen Atwood, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Best Original Score: Dario Marianelli, Atonement.

J.R. JONES  Best Picture: Atonement. Best Director: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Original Screenplay: Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton. Best Adapted Screenplay: Christopher Hampton, Atonement. Best Actress: Julie Christie, Away From Her. Best Actor: George Clooney, Michael Clayton. Best Actress: Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone. Best Supporting Actor: Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Best Documentary Feature: No End in Sight. Best Animated Feature: Persepolis. Best Cinematography: Robert Elswit, There Will Be Blood. Best Editing: Juliette Welfling, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Best Art Direction: Sarah Greenwood/Katie Spencer, Atonement. Best Costume Design: Jacqueline Durran, Atonement. Best Original Score: Dario Marianelli, Atonement.

JOSHUA KATZMAN  Best Picture: There Will Be Blood. Best Director: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Original Screenplay: Brad Bird, Ratatouille. Best Adapted Screenplay: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Actress: Julie Christie: Away From Her. Best Actor: Daniel Day Lewis, There Will Be Blood. Best Supporting Actress: Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone. Best Supporting Actor: Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild. Best Documentary Feature: No End in Sight. Best Cinematography: Robert Elswit, There Will Be Blood. Best Editing: Jay Cassidy, Into the Wild. Best Art Direction: Jack Fisk/Jim Erickson, There Will Be Blood. Best Original Score: Marco Beltrami, 3:10 to Yuma.

REECE PENDLETON  Best Picture: There Will Be Blood. Best Director: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Original Screenplay: Tamara Jenkins, The Savages. Best Adapted Screenplay: Paul "I Drink Your Milkshake" Anderson, There Will Be Blood. Best Actress: Laura Linney, The Savages. Best Actor: Daniel Day Lewis, There Will Be Blood. Best Supporting Actress: Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone. Best Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War. Best Documentary Feature: No End in Sight. Best Cinematography: Janusz Kaminski, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Best Costume Design: Jacqueline Durran, Atonement. Best Original Score: "Sorry, but I just can't get past the fact that Jonny Greenwood's score for There Will Be Blood wasn't eligible."

Why wasn't a single reference to George W. Bush made by anyone--including Ellen DeGeneres in her gently laid-back stand-up routines? Probably for the same reason that I rarely heard Bush mentioned by anyone in conversations when I was recently in Rotterdam, Toulouse, and Paris. Why beat a dead horse?, the deceased in this case being the fate of the world, or perhaps innocent civilians in Iran, not a spry but clueless leader. Once it’s become accepted and mutually acknowledged that the overall will of the world’s population and the will of the American people--insofar as either will can be correctly inferred--has almost no bearing on what Bush decides to do, speaking out of rage and impotence about a stupid dictator’s whims won’t accomplish very much. So instead of cracking jokes about how Clinton risked impeachment for getting a blow job while Bush risks nothing but a little wrist-slapping for endangering the survival of the planet as well as his own country, DeGeneres brings out a vacuum cleaner. The closest she ever got to evoking Bush was implying at one point that more of the American public voted for Al Gore. The overall implication: when in doubt, lie down and turn on the TV. Which is presumably why such PC questions as the importance of someone using the word faggot elsewhere on TV is supposed to matter so much. Once you give up on the prospect of saving the country or saving the planet, much less improving the quality of your own life, there are still loads of other things to get even more worked up about.

And why is it that on a relatively well-managed, intelligently orchestrated show almost every time world cinema was evoked it had to be alluded to only in relation to tearjerkers and the most egregiously banal cliches? I’m speaking more of the montages than of the awarding of an Oscar to The Lives of Others, a film already understandably tweaked by Pat Graham in a recent post (even though I recently made it a Critic's Choice), but the same overall principle might be said to apply to both: tears, kids, madonnas, and wistful, impotent smiles are apparently supposed to constitute the sum of what we’re supposed to get from the world’s collective cinematic wisdom.

As for the multiple Oscars to The Departed—none of which convinces me that I should necessarily see it, any more than the Oscars given to Braveheart ever made me feel I was missing something important—it seems par for the course to give belated consolation prizes after neglecting to give Oscars to filmmakers when they deserve it. But if I'm wrong--if there's something exceptional or different about this movie that's being recognized--could somebody explain what is it? 

One of the most cherished fantasies in the world of movies is that around this time every year we critics are all dying to think about the best films of the past 12 months--as if listmaking represented some particular populist need for consensus rather than the industry's desire to resell goods that have already been sold to us again and again (or, in this neck of the woods, to presell goods that haven't arrived yet).

I'll admit that one list engenders another, and that once the game starts in earnest, every critic wants to be part of the discussion. But consider some of the drawbacks: 

(1) Piles of movies getting released at the end of this year in such a manner that critics (and some audience members) don't even have time to take them in, much less think about them. (Maybe that's exactly what the studios want--snap judgment is another practice that serves the industry more than the audience.) 

(2) Contortions by critics outside New York and Los Angeles who don't want to come across as rubes and so vote for movies that most of their readers can't see yet.

(3) An inevitable tendency to highlight recent films, privileging theatrical showings over DVDs.

(4) Overkill and exhaustion for reviewers and readers alike.

It's hard to parse the polls at this point--to figure out what's being dictated to us, what we've been trained to expect, and what we actually desire independently.