The 88th Annual Academy Awards: Who Will Win, Who Should Win (Part Two)

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2015 Academy Awards, 88th Annual Academy Awards, Academy Award Nominee, Academy Awards, award shows, Oscar nominee, Oscars

And now: the final part of my Oscar predictions, as we approach the kick-off to the big event.

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Best Animated Short

Bear Story

Prologue

Sanjay’s Super Team

We Can’t Live Without Cosmos

World of Tomorrow

What Should Win: World of Tomorrow/Sanjay’s Super Team

What Will Win: Sanjay’s Super Team

Right up until I actually saw Sanjay’s Super Team, this seemed like another one of those grudging “can’t stop it” categories. After all, Hertzfeldt’s World of Tomorrow is the obvious winner, a smart, moving and powerful examination on the basics of humanity that says more in its 15 minutes than most films say in two hours. Bear Story was an amazing, intricately made expose on the subtler evils of fascism, while We Can’t Live Without Cosmos was a bittersweet look at friendship, set around the trappings of the Russian space program: both were good but, compared to World of Tomorrow, just didn’t have the big vision and reach. Prologue? Way too strange and head-scratching, despite some amazing visuals. I figured that Sanjay’s Super Team would win simply for being the resident Pixar offering: combined with its superhero focus, that seemed unbeatable. And then I actually watched it. Let’s be clear: World of Tomorrow is a phenomenal piece of art, deep, moving and important. Sanjay’s Super Team is, likewise, a deeply moving bit of art with the added benefit of a visual style that, for lack of a better word, is next-level. The short will win and it will absolutely deserve it, despite a lot of very worthy competition.

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Best Makeup and Hairstyling

Mad Max: Fury Road

The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out a Window and Disappeared

The Revenant

What Should Win: The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out a Window and Disappeared

What Will Win: The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out a Window and Disappeared

Up until I actually watched The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out a Window and Disappeared, I was fully prepared to give this to Mad Max, part and parcel. The Revenant was truly impressive (that bungled scalping…shiver…) but, like the rest of the visual effects, a little to organic to really stand out. Mad Max, on the other hand, was a virtual cornucopia of varied makeup, a cast of thousands with a thousand different looks, style sand quirks to go with it. Case closed.

Not quite. Turns out that not only is The 100-Year-Old Man Who…one of the best, most original and flat-out funniest films of 2015 (maybe the best: I have some serious re-evaluating to do), the makeup effects are equally impressive. Just the aging makeup of the lead character, alone, puts this over the top (the actor is in his mid-40s, in real-life, yet realistically ages from his twenties through to hundred across the span of two hours). Add in all of the really great historical figure impersonations (the Stalin, Bush and Reagan ones are spot-on) and you have a nominee that upholds excellence in every measure of the category. For me, this is an absolute no-brainer.

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Best Original Screenplay

Bridge of Spies

Ex Machina

Inside Out

Spotlight

Straight Outta Compton

What Should Win: Ex Machina

What Will Win: Inside Out

Caveat: I never got around to Spotlight, so if that was the best script, I defer to more knowledgeable souls. Of the remaining four, it’s a bit of a shoving match. To not put to fine a point on it, Straight Outta Compton had a terrible script, one of the most tone-deaf, obvious and awkward of the entire year. The film might have had its share of problems but the script was absolutely at the top of the list. Bridge of Spies was a consistently twisty, thorny screenplay, yet wasn’t always as clear as it could’ve been: perhaps one needed a scorecard to tell the players during the event but one shouldn’t need the same for a fictional cinematic adaptation. Inside Out has a really smart, sensitive and mature script, with a profound insight into not only childhood but depression, mania and other mental conditions. This seems like a lock and I wouldn’t complain in the slightest.

For my money, though, Ex Machina had the best, most subtle and most intriguing script of the bunch. The ideas were less conventional than the others, the dialogue was smart and the big questions that were raised had a genuine sense of impact and importance. Perhaps it speaks more to my particular sensibilities but this was the film that I found myself returning to the most (of the nominees) and I credit that in no small part to the excellent screenplay.

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Best Supporting Actor

Christian Bale, The Big Short

Tom Hardy, The Revenant

Mark Ruffalo, Spotlight

Mark Rylance, Bridge of Spies

Sylvester Stallone, Creed

Who Should Win: Tom Hardy, The Revenant

Who Will Win: Sylvester Stallone, Creed

Since I only saw two nominees here, my opinion probably won’t carry much weight. Of the performances I saw, Hardy did a phenomenal job portraying a true cretin with just enough self-doubt to prevent him from becoming a sub-human monster, while Rylance subtly portrayed a wry, unflappable spy with a charming mixture of understated humor, stoicism and grim acceptance. I lean towards Hardy, here, although either one seem equally worthy.

In the grand scheme, however, is anyone really going to beat Sly here? Not only does his return performance as Rocky tick off pretty every box on the Academy’s “What We Like” list, it also “corrects” the error of never awarding him a trophy for his initial go-round with the character. They’ll see it as proper and that’s probably as good a reason as any.

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Best Supporting Actress

Jennifer Jason Leigh, The Hateful Eight

Rooney Mara, Carol

Rachel McAdams, Spotlight

Alicia Vikander, The Danish Girl

Kate Winslet, Steve Jobs

Who Should Win:

Who Will Win: Rachel McAdams, Spotlight

Despite my intentions, I only ended up seeing one of the nominated performances, which is a real shame. Despite enjoying Jennifer Jason Leigh’s full-blooded, foul-mouthed and vilely exuberant performance as the condemned centerpiece in Tarantino’s Hateful Eight, it was still a pretty cartoonish performance and devoid of much nuance or shading. A great performance, mind you, but the kind I would consider one of the year’s best.

Of the ones I didn’t see, I’m going to pull McAdams’ name out of my magician’s hat. I’m not sure how much love Spotlight will see at the Oscars but all reports have indicated that McAdams was a pivotal point in the film’s acting ensemble. At this point, however, it’s definitely a coin toss.

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Best Picture

The Big Short

Bridge of Spies

Brooklyn

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

Room

Spotlight

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: The Revenant

At long last, the main event. I ended up screening five out of the eight Best Picture nominees (I didn’t get to Brooklyn, The Big Short or Spotlight, unfortunately), so at least this will be a bit more informed than the Supporting Actor/Actress categories. I enjoyed Bridge of Spies but never found it more than a pleasant diversion: call it Spielberg-lite (very lite), an enjoyable film but altogether forgettable. The Martian was duly impressive when it stuck with the core idea of Damon lost on Mars but became too conventional and rather uninteresting whenever it left the Red Planet and returned to ground control. The Room was an impressive, tense rape/abuse analogy that suffered from the same basic issues as The Martian: when it left the confines of the titular location, the film became much more familiar and infinitely less spectacular.

This leaves us with the final two in the running: Inarritu’s ode to vengeance, The Revenant, and George Miller’s return to the wasteland, Mad Max: Fury Road. Quality-wise, both films are on par, for different reasons: they’re both fully immersive, in their own way, are the furthest things from spoon-fed multiplex pap and demand that audiences keep up if they want the full experience. They’re both technical marvels, The Revenant utilizing nothing but natural light and adverse weather conditions to produce an unparalleled vision of the unforgiving natural world, while Mad Max throws everything (including the kitchen sink) at the screen in an overwhelming successful attempt to portray a world spun completely off the wheels.

At the end of the day, this will be a contest decided by two very different, yet equally exacting, takes on the art of filmmaking. Will the Academy award Inarritu’s hell-and-back approach to filmcraft or will old master Miller finally get recognition for a truly stunning, outsider career that’s managed to spring like Lazarus from the dead? Can Inarritu score back-to-back Oscar wins or is that one lottery ticket too many?

When all is said and done, my gut instinct tells me that The Revenant will end up standing tall. Production narratives have as much to do with a film’s Academy success as anything else and, regardless of what one thinks about the actual film, there’s no denying that The Revenant is pretty much a one-of-a-kind production. I would, personally, rather see Mad Max take the prize but I just don’t think that’s in the cards.

Perhaps I’m wrong, however. One way or the other, we’ll all find out soon. Happy viewings, friends and cyber-neighbors!

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The 88th Annual Academy Awards: Who Will Win, Who Should Win (Part One)

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2015 Academy Awards, 2015 Oscars, 88th Annual Academy Awards, Academy Award Nominee, Academy Awards, Oscar nominee, Oscars

Things can always be different. In most cases, they should be different. At the end of the day, however, especially when it comes to awards shows, we can only really deal with what’s in front of us. Taking a look at this year’s Oscar nominees, there’s a whole lot that I would do differently. For one, there’s a lot of female directors that should have been on the list this year (Marjane Satrapi, Shira Piven and Celine Sciamma spring instantly to mind). There are at least a bakers’ dozen of extraordinary films and performances that weren’t so much as nominated (Kristen Wiig, Slow West, Girlhood and Bone Tomahawk are all on the “shafted” list this year). As I’ve said before, so shall I say again: do Academy voters actually watch more than 10 films a year?

All of that being said, we’ll deal with what “could’ve been” in a future post: at this time, we can only examine what was nominated, for good and bad. I did my best to see as many nominated films as I could this year but, as always, there were plenty that slipped through the cracks: Carol, The Big Short, Anomalisa, Mustang, Brooklyn and 45 Years were all films that seemed immensely worthy and right up my alley: unfortunately, we just never ended up being in the same place at the same time. Cest la vie, I suppose: after all, that’s what Mop-Up March is for.

In that spirit, here’s the first part of my educated (or not) guesses at what might tickle Academy voter fancy this Sunday. Part Two will follow later, including my guess at Best Picture.

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Best Live Action Short

Ave Maria

Day One

Everything Will Be Okay (Alles Wird Gut)

Shok

Stutterer

What Should Win: Stutterer

What Will Win: Shok

This ended up being a pretty tough category due to the consistent quality of the nominees. Ave Maria was fun, if rather slight, and benefited from being the only truly lighthearted one of the bunch. Day One and Alles Wird Gut were intense little micro-movies, bolstered by great performances, if unrelentingly grim. Stutterer ended up being my fave of the bunch: the Irish/UK production was visually dazzling, had a really neat central conceit and used the proper proportions of giddiness and internal suffering. I’m pretty sure that nothing will beat Shok, however: this Kosovoan production is a 21-minute descent into almost abject misery with a climax that (literally) took my breath away. Nothing about this short is fun, in any way, shape or form, but it absolutely deserves to be seen. I’d rather see the more hopeful Stutterer take the trophy but Shok is, arguably, the most deserving.

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Best Documentary Short

Body Team 12

Chau, Beyond the Lines

Claude Lanzmann: Spectres of the Shoah

A Girl in the River: The Price of Forgiveness

Last Day of Freedom

What Should Win:

What Will Win:

This is one of those categories where I didn’t see enough nominees to make an informed decision. Neither of the two shorts I saw really blew me away: Chau was uplifting and well-made but thoroughly conventional and obvious, whereas Last Day of Freedom had a great, important central concept but lost me due to the stylistic affectations (skittery, animated line drawings that distracted from the powerful story). If I had to guess, Chau seems like the kind of short that the Academy tends to favor but this could really go to any of them, I suppose.

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Best Sound Mixing

Bridge of Spies

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: The Revenant

For me, this is technically a toss-up between the unholy cacophony of Mad Max’s never-ending apocalyptic din and the all-encompassing stillness of The Revenant’s purgatorial chill. While I lean towards the more chaotic side of the spectrum, I think that The Revenant’s momentum will make this an easy lock. Nothing about the sound mix in either Bridge of Spies or The Martian really stood out, although I can’t comment on Star Wars, as that was one of the ones that got away.

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Best Sound Editing

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

Sicario

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: The Revenant

See my above reasons for Sound Mixing, with the added caveat that I really like the sound editing in Sicario. Despite that, however, I still think Mad Max and The Revenant are the two to beat.

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Best Visual Effects

Ex Machina

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: Star Wars

With its seamless blend of physical effects and CGI, Fury Road was an all-encompassing experience and my easy pick for Best Visual Effects of the nominated films I saw. While Ex Machina was impressive on a smaller scale, I find it hard to believe the Academy will give it much love. The Martian was nice but certainly nothing special, while the effects in The Revenant (barring that terrifying bear attack) were so organic that they never really stood out. All of that said, however, I don’t think that anything will beat Star Wars in this particular category: with so few nominations, tossing it the VizFx statue seems like a no-brainer.

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Best Costume Design

Carol

Cinderella

The Danish Girl

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Revenant

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: Cinderella

Although it might seem as if I’m just picking Mad Max in every category, that’s not quite the case. In this example, as with the above, I genuinely think it was the best of the best. With its unique vision of end-of-the-world-couture and a seemingly endless variety of eye-popping outfits, this (to me) is what costume design is all about. Nothing about The Revenant’s costume design really stood out for me, although the organic authenticity was certainly impressive. All of this being said, the Academy really can’t pass up a safe bet and I’m sure that Cinderella’s ball-gowns and fairy-tale fashion will fit that bill to a t.

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Best Production Design

Bridge of Spies

The Danish Girl

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: Mad Max

This is another category where I just can’t see a lot of competition. The period detail in Bridge of Spies was just fine but certainly nothing special: ditto the science-factual details of Scott’s The Martian. The Revenant looked consistently lovely but seemed rather sparsely designed, barring the handful of scenes in villages and way-stations: it’s overriding strengths were the huge, endless outdoor vistas and that gorgeous natural light. Of the four films I saw in this category, only Mad Max sported the kind of meticulous, exacting attention to detail that’s necessary to make an utterly fantastic world spring to gritty life. I could definitely see The Revenant taking this home, especially if it sweeps, but I still think Mad Max is the most worthy candidate.

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Best Film Editing

The Big Short

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Revenant

Spotlight

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

What Should Win: Mad Max

What Will Win: The Big Short

If you think about it, Mad Max is really one big, two-hour car chase: that’s a film where editing is not only important but pretty much the sink-or-swim pivot. Not only is the film always coherent and spatially easy to follow, the integration of physical effects and CG work is nothing short of seamless. In a perfect world this would be a lock. That’s not to say that the editing in The Revenant wasn’t seamlessly fluid, mind you, or that any of the ones I didn’t screen might be equally worthy. As far as what will win, however? My money is on The Big Short (which I didn’t screen), which has amassed quite a bit of pre-awards buzz and feels like an all-around safer bet for the Academy.

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Best Cinematography

Carol

The Hateful Eight

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Revenant

Sicario

What Should Win: The Revenant

What Will Win: The Revenant

Just like last year, there may be several viable choices in the Best Cinematography category but there’s really only one front-runner: Emmanuel Lubezki’s work in The Revenant is pretty much what awards were created for. While The Hateful Eight brought 70mm film back to the masses, it just didn’t do as much awe-inspiring stuff with its vistas as The Revenant did: Tarantino’s newest might smoke lots of the competition but it’s at least a half-step behind Inarritu’s survival chiller. In any other year, either Roger Deakens’ work in Sicario or John Seale’s heart-stopping cinematography in Mad Max would be solid locks for the pole position. As any good Highlander knows, however, there can be only one: this year, The Revenant looks to lop a lot of heads.

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Best Original Song

“Earned It,” Fifty Shades of Grey

“Manta Ray,” Racing Extinction

“Simple Song No. 3,” Youth

“Til It Happens to You,” The Hunting Ground

“Writing’s On the Wall,” Spectre

What Should Win: “Til It Happens To You,” The Hunting Ground

What Will Win: “Writing’s On the Wall,” Spectre

Despite having seen none of the nominated films, I did manage to listen to all of the individual songs. “Earned It” and “Simple Song No. 3” are both rather forgettable tracks, each one falling into the category of Muzak for one reason or another. “Manta Ray” is a great song but seems too brittle and spare to really go anywhere. Personally, I found Sam Smith’s “Writing’s On the Wall” to be the most banal, middle-of-the-road tune of the bunch, just the kind of forgettable anthem that seems aimed at most Academy voters. Only Lady Gaga’s “Til It Happens to You” struck me as a song suitable for both on and off the screen. I’m predicting that Smith wins by a landslide, naturally.

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Best Original Score

Bridge of Spies

Carol

The Hateful Eight

Sicario

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

What Should Win: The Hateful Eight

What Will Win: Star Wars

As far as I’m concerned, this category is one of the easiest of the bunch: not only was Ennio Morricone’s score for Tarantino’s Western one of the very best of the year, it was one of the very best of the illustrious composer’s rather incredible career. Menacing, thrilling, driving and as integral to the film as any of the visual components, Morricone’s Hateful Eight scores is one of the rare bits of filmic music (just like his Good, The Bad and The Ugly score) that’s just as good off-screen. Among the others, I found Thomas Newman’s score for Bridge of Spies to be just about the most generic, forgettable one of the year, while Johann Johannsson’s work for Sicario was nothing spectacular. That being said, this is a year that sees legendary composer John Williams nominated for a Star Wars film: in Vegas, they call that a “sure bet.”

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Best Foreign Language Film

Embrace of the Serpent, Columbia

Mustang, France

Son of Saul, Hungary

Theeb, Jordan

A War, Denmark

What Should Win: Theeb, Jordan

What Will Win: Son of Saul, Hungary

Yet another category where I only got to see one entry but I’m a lot more confident calling a winner in this one: there really hasn’t been buzz for any of the nominees save Son of Saul and that looks set to win by a landslide. That being said, I absolutely loved Theeb and would be overjoyed if that decidedly old-fashioned Western (by way of Lawrence of Arabia) were able to surge ahead and take the prize. Biggest disappointment, here, is not getting to see Mustang, which I’m pretty sure is absolutely amazing.

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Best Documentary Feature

Amy

Cartel Land

Look of Silence

What Happened, Miss Simone?

Winter on Fire

What Should Win: Cartel Land

What Will Win: Amy

While the worst thing that I can say about any of these entries is that Oppenheimer’s Look of Silence was a disappointment (for me, at least) and a step down from his unforgettable The Act of Killing, the clear winner is Cartel Land. Amy is a well-made, sad look at a popular public figure (hence, my assumption that it will win) and is much less politically-thorny than the Nina Simone biopic, while Winter on Fire hews a little closely to previous nominee The Square. Cartel Land, on the other hand, is a fiercely original, terrifying and massively thought-provoking look at the war on drugs that arrives like an anvil to the face and instantly eliminates the competition. I feel the same way about Cartel Land that I did about The Act of Killing: it should be required viewing for every citizen of Planet Earth.

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Best Animated Feature

Anomalisa

Boy and the World

Inside Out

Shaun the Sheep

When Marnie Was There

What Should Win: Anomalisa

What Will Win: Inside Out

While I didn’t get to screen Anomalisa in time for the awards ceremony, I have no doubt that Charlie Kaufman’s puppets-in-crisis drama is nothing short of next-level amazing. The very fact that a film like that is nominated in the Animated Feature category makes this year’s selections rather intriguing. Of the others I saw, Shaun the Sheep was a disappointment, being the first Aardman film that didn’t completely charm me. I can’t see anything stopping Inside Out, however, and there’s nothing wrong with that: this genuinely incisive look into childhood emotions and the terrifying joy of getting older and letting go of your youth is the rare “kids” films that’s aimed as squarely at adults as it is wee ones. It’s a genuinely lovely film with a positive message, great voice acting and lots of fun setpieces: I’d be a complete Scrooge if I tried to crap on its rainbow.

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Best Adapted Screenplay

The Big Short

Brooklyn

Carol

The Martian

Room

What Should Win:

What Will Win: The Big Short

In this particular category, the only films that I got a chance to screen were The Martian and Room: ironically, I had the exact same problem with both films. To whit, the movies are much better when they’re smaller and more contained: when it’s just us and Mark Watney or us and Joy and Jack, both The Martian and Room are virtually airtight. Once they’re expanded to larger canvasses, however, the films lose their impact and become altogether more generic and familiar. From what I understand, The Big Short did a good job of not only compressing a lot of information into its two hours but also in educating its audience on various difficult concepts and terminology. On face value, that seems like a pretty admirable job to me but, as always, my sincerest apologies to the unscreened.

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Best Director

Adam McKay, The Big Short

George Miller, Mad Max: Fury Road

Alejandro G. Inarritu, The Revenant

Lenny Abrahamson, Room

Tom McCarthy, Spotlight

Who Should Win: George Miller, Mad Max: Fury Road

Who Will Win: Alejandro G. Inarritu, The Revenant

While there may be five individuals nominated here, this particular race is really only about two: Miller and Inarritu. Both longtime auteurs produced staggeringly difficult, singular works, each with more obstacles to overcome than most filmmakers deal with in their entire lives. While Inarritu’s production travails on The Revenant have entered the public zeitgeist in a way not seen since Francis Ford almost lost his marbles in the jungle, I’m Team Miller on this one, all the way. Inarritu used minimalism and natural order (along with an exceptionally game cast) to craft a chilly piece of brutalist art, whereas Miller turned overriding chaos into one of the most beautifully orchestrated, choreographed and riveting pieces of thrash-pop we’ve ever seen. It’s the difference between fire and ice: I’m all about the fire on this one.

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Best Actor

Bryan Cranston, Trumbo

Matt Damon, The Martian

Leonardo DiCaprio, The Revenant

Michael Fassbender, Steve Jobs

Eddie Redmayne. The Danish Girl

Who Should Win: Leonardo DiCaprio, The Revenant

Who Will Win: Leonardo DiCaprio, The Revenant

I only got a chance to screen The Martian and The Revenant so, again, my apologies for a slightly uninformed opinion here. As usual, Damon was massively charismatic, the kind of matinee idol who can easily carry a film on nothing more than his “aw shucks” bearing and goofily endearing grin. That being said, there also wasn’t anything here we haven’t seen from him in the past: it’s a great performance from a great actor but it never struck me as the best of the year. As far as DiCaprio goes, we’ve all heard the narrative of woe, by this point: nearly frozen to death in the frigid wild; forced to eat steaming animal liver, puking it back up in the take that actually makes the final cut; crawling through icy cold water for days on end; taking a bite out of a living fish…if Olivier thought Dustin went a bit overboard, wait’ll he gets a load a this guy, eh?

The thing is, DiCaprio is great in The Revenant for more than his ability to go the extra mile (literally). He does a lot with a relative scarcity of dialogue, slipping into the strong, silent antihero (ala classic Eastwood and Bronson) with a surprising ease: it’s like we blinked and Jack suddenly became a man. He’s always 100% invested in the character (obviously) but he brings that investment to all the small things, as well: the expressive eyes and skittering glances…the constant, realistic pain and reactions to the elements…those rare moments where peace and calm slip across his face before being brushed aside. If the point of a Best Actor nomination is to award the actor who gave us the most immersive, fully-formed and complete character interpretation of the proferred group, I’m pretty sure that DiCaprio fits that definition. Go ahead: give Leo the damn trophy, already.

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Best Actress

Cate Blanchett, Carol

Brie Larson, Room

Jennifer Lawrence, Joy 

Charlotte Rampling, 45 Years

Saoirse Ronan, Brooklyn

Who Should Win: Brie Larson, Room

Who Will Win: Cate Blanchett, Carol

This, alas, was a category where I only got to screen one film, making my ultimate analysis a bit of a dice toss. I thoroughly enjoyed Brie Larson’s portrayal of the imprisoned mother, however, so I don’t feel bad tossing all my support behind that. She’s always been a great actress (Short Term 12 was absolutely amazing) and her performance here is full of subtle moments and quiet gestures that say more than a thousand lines of dialogue ever could. It’s a difficult role, emotionally, but Larson turns in a pretty stunning performance. All of that being said, however, I have a sneaking suspicion that Cate Blanchett will actually win this particular award. Call it a hunch, intuition or just the notion that Room may have been a bit too small to gain as much attention (despite its Best Picture, Director and Actress nods) but I just have a feeling. I could also see Charlotte Rampling taking this, although 45 Years was another film that didn’t seem to receive as much attention from the Academy.

Stay tuned for Part Two, faithful readers.

11/30/15: Tubby Little Cubby All Stuffed With Fluff

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A.A. Milne, animated films, Barbara Luddy, based on short stories, Buddy Baker, cartoons, childhood favorites, children's movies, Christopher Robin, cinema, classic films, Clint Howard, co-directors, Disney movies, Eeyore, favorite films, film reviews, films, friendships, Gopher, Hal Smith, Howard Morris, Hundred Acre Woods, John Fielder, John Lounsbury, Junius Matthews, Kanga, Movies, multiple writers, nostalgia, Owl, Paul Winchell, Piglet, Rabbit, Ralph Wright, Roo, Sebastian Cabot, Sterling Holloway, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, Walt Disney, Winnie the Pooh, Wolfgang Reitherman

If nostalgia is a drug, then nostalgia for the beloved things of one’s childhood must be a triple-dipped, skull-peeling hit of the purest intoxicant in history. We tend to view our childhood favorites through the rosiest of spectacles for many reasons but I like to think that the most prominent is also the simplest: we hold the movies, TV shows, music, pop culture and culinary delights of our childhood up as examples of the pure, undiluted joy that comes from youth. Before we learned to be cynical, snarky and dismissive, before we developed “guilty pleasures” and ironically “liked” things, we were simpler, more naive and quite a bit easier to please. It’s a convenient lie that children are universally accepting of whatever crap is put in front of them: in reality, they’re just a lot less afraid to look like idiots.

Once one is removed from childhood nostalgia by some distance, however, re-examining those childhood loves can be a bit tricky. Fart jokes, inane songs and talking animals are pretty much par for the course with kids’ movies but, several decades down the line, those particular cinematic affectations are a bit more of an acquired taste. It’s tempting to look down at our childhood loves from a more “adult” perspective and laugh at our immaturity while still pining for those innocent, pure emotions of our youth. It’s tempting, of course, but it still does them a disservice. Rather than give these old favorites the equivalent of a golf handicap and a lifetime pass, is it actually possible to re-examine them and determine their respective merits?

As a youngster, I had a set group of rotating favorite films, many of which I would watch not only day after day but, at times, multiple times during the same day. Of these many childhood favorites, few resonated with me as much as Walt Disney’s The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977). If I watched that remarkable little film once during my formative years, I probably watched it at least a hundred, if not a thousand, times. Thirty-some years later, however, would this little gem still mean as much? Is The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh nothing but a sad, wistful reminder of a simpler era or does it still possess the same ability to delight modern children as it did those of us who grew up in earlier eras? Is there really a place for the “tubby cubby” in our modern world?

For the uninitiated, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh details the travails of the titular stuffed bear and his woodland friends as they pass the time in their magical home, the Hundred Acres Wood. Created by British author A.A. Milne in the mid-1920s, Pooh and his friends would go on to capture the imagination of generations of children in the fifty-some years between their creation and the vibrant Disney adaptation that we currently discuss, becoming iconic childhood figures along the lines of Paddington Bear, Babar or Charles Schultz’s legendary Peanuts gang.

Characterized by a sweetly philosophical, gentle tone, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is the very antithesis of frantic, overly manic kids’ movies, landing somewhere closer to a more subdued version of the aforementioned Peanuts. The adventures detailed here-in are about as far from the complicated machinations of modern animated films as possible: Pooh needs to find honey; Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit’s door and needs to get out; Owl’s tree falls down and he needs a new home; Tigger needs to find out what, exactly, he’s good at. No self-referential layers of meta-commentary here, nor allusions to popular culture of the era or anything transitory: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh deals with the most basic of emotions and tropes, such as the need to help others, the importance of sharing, the importance of friends, the bittersweet feeling of leaving your childhood loves behind as you get older. While many animated films claim to be for both parents and their children, that’s usually more perfunctory than anything else. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is one of the few children’s movies that is just as impactful to parents as it is to their progeny…even more, perhaps, similar to the recent Inside Out (2015).

There’s not a lot of chaos here, controlled or otherwise, but the film also doesn’t need it. It’s the difference between listening to an orchestra perform a classical piece or listening to a prog-thrash band ratchet through several time changes in the span of minutes: they both serve their purpose and there’s a time and place for both. A frantic, slapstick pace just doesn’t suit this kind of thoughtful, contemplative material. There’s a reason why Benjamin Hoff’s The Tao of Pooh became a minor hit upon its release: Milne’s creations may be the single best example of Zen philosophy ever committed to film, animated or otherwise.

How does The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh hold up to other “Golden Era” Disney classics? Remarkably well, as it turns out. The voice-acting is superb across the board: I’ve never imagined Pooh as being voiced by anyone other than Sterling Holloway and I never shall. Likewise for Paul Winchell’s exuberant Tigger, John Fielder’s quivery-voiced Piglet, Junius Matthews’s blustery Owl and Howard Morris’ whistling Gopher. These are the definitive versions of these characters, as definitive as Lugosi’s Dracula or Karloff’s Monster. The songs are strong and, likewise, indelible: I don’t think I’ve ever got “Pooh’s Theme” out of my head since the first time I heard it and the “Heffalumps and Woozles” setpiece stands as my very favorite animated sequence ever, aside from “A Night on Bald Mountain.” And “The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers”? Try and get that little worm out of your brain.

The animation style ably mimics the actual illustrated stories, leading to some truly lovely images, not least of which are the many times when the stories bleed back onto the page (and vice versa). Aesthetically, The Many Adventures of Winnie Pooh is easily one of my favorite Disney films: something about the look and style proves as calming, today, as it did back when I was a child. It’s also a perfect example of “form” and “content” meeting in harmonious unity: despite being comprised of three separate stories, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh has a flowing sense of continuity that’s practically fluid.

Needless to say, I loved the film as much upon my recent viewing as my prior ones. Stripping away all of my resident goodwill for the movie, however, there’s still that all important question: is The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh really a great film or does it just mean a lot to me? With as much impartiality as I can muster, I’m going to come down on the side of a genuinely great film.

For one thing, the film is actually a lot deeper than I gave it credit for when I was growing up. Upon this recent viewing, lots of little details and notions popped out at me that I never really considered before: Pooh is actually a really selfish, self-centered character and kind of a jerk, lovable demeanor or not; Eeyore is clinically depressed, yet completely accepted by his friends; the introduction of Tigger is framed like a horror movie (this was a big revelation, actually); there’s something strangely subversive about Rabbit drawing faces on Pooh’s butt in order to make his derriere fit the accommodations; Eeyore giving Piglet’s house to Owl is a really shitty move but Piglet going along with it is an act akin to sainthood or Communism, whichever you prefer. Like I said before, that’s a lot of subtext for a kids’ movie.

The single most important reason to ascribe greatness to The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, however, is also the simplest: 38 years after its release, the film still feels fresh, timeless and like it has something to say. These notions of friendship, sacrifice, unity and melancholy resonate just as much today, if not more: as an adult, I’ve had a chance to live with all of these feelings and emotions for decades and, yet, I relived them all when I sat down to watch the film again. Any film that can consistently make you feel, year in and year out, decade in and decade out, is something special: in every sense of the word, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is special.

As mentioned in the beginning, nostalgia can be a hell of a drug: it can blind us to the inherent deficiencies of things we used to hold dear, reducing any attempt at critical analysis to a simple shrug and “Well, I liked it when I was a kid.” Not all of our past loves will pass the “smell test,” so to speak, especially if we’re being brutally honest with ourselves. When you find a childhood love that does, however, like The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, my advice is to hold on to it for dear life. A life without cherished memories like this, you see, is really no life at all.

 

11/27/15: Fists of Funny

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'80s homage, absurdist, action-comedies, Andreas Cahling, cinema, computer hacking, crowdfunded films, Danger Force 5, David Hasselhoff, David Sandberg, dinosaurs vs Nazis, directorial debut, Eleni Young, Erik Hörnqvist, film reviews, films, foreign films, Frank Sanderson, Helene Ahlson, Jorma Taccone, Kung Fury, Leopold Nilsson, Lost Years, Mitch Murder, Movies, Patrik Öberg, retro-themed films, sci-fi, shorts, Steven Chew, Swedish films, synth scores, time travel, writer-director-actor

Is there such a thing as a perfect roller-coaster? While opinions may vary, I think there are a few key aspects that just about anyone can agree on. A perfect roller-coaster should have a balance of climbs and falls, straight shots and zig-zags: a roller-coaster that consists of one long, steady climb and a corresponding fall may be a great endurance test but it makes for a pretty poor roller-coaster. A perfect roller-coaster should feature plenty of surprise twists, turns and sudden swerves to the left and right: when done right, the only thing you should be anticipating is that big, final plunge into the abyss right before the cars stop and your heart thumps back into your chest. Perhaps most importantly, however, a perfect roller-coaster should be short and sweet. There’s a subtle (but definite) line between pummeling your senses and red-lining your adrenaline  and being reduced to a quivering pile of bodily functions on the blessed pavement. The perfect roller-coaster should leave you shaken, giddy, a little unsteady on your feet and eager to jump right back in line and do the whole thing all over again.

In this spirit, writer/director/actor/tour de force David Sandberg’s 30-minute mind-blower, Kung Fury (2015), might just be the perfect cinematic roller-coaster. Over the course of its short and sweet run-time, Kung Fury wastes not one single minute and features not one wasted, repetitive or unnecessary frame. The effect is like mainlining Pixie Stix and Red Bull, a jittery, explosive and relentlessly inventive trawl through the very best of ’80s-era junk culture, all filtered through a brilliantly absurd worldview that allows for Triceratops-headed police officers, machine gun-wielding Valkyries riding giant wolves and massive, sentient, blood-thirsty arcade games. Kung Fury is what might happen if a teenage metalhead’s Trapper Keeper doodles suddenly sprang to life and it is, quite frankly, rather amazing.

Taking place in a 1985 version of Miami that most closely resembles the neon-and-pastel insanity of Grand Theft Auto, Kung Fury details the adventures of the titular hero (ably portrayed by Sandberg in a genuinely funny, flat-as-a-pancake delivery) as he attempts to travel back in time and stop the evil Adolf Hitler (Jorma Taccone), who has dubbed himself the “Kung Fuhrer” and plots to take over the world with his endlessly impressive kung fu skills. Since this is an ’80s parody, we get all of the standard tropes: Kung Fury is a renegade cop who refuses to be teamed with a new partner after the death of his last one (even though Erik Hornqvist’s Triceracops seems like a perfectly nice, polite dude); he’s got a tech-savvy helper (Leopold Nilssen’s outrageously mulleted Hackerman); the picture quality is constantly marred by static and missing footage; the main bad guy has an army of thousands of heavily armed, killers, none of whom could hit the broadside of a barn if their lives depended on it (which they always do); the acting ranges from amateurish to studiously awkward. Basically, if you grew up on ’80s action/kung fu films (or pretty much anything put out by Cannon), this will be the best kind of deja vu.

While Kung Fury is endlessly fun, full of the kind of giddy, stupid thrills and setpieces that pretty much every comic book/superhero/mindless action film aspires to, one of the most impressive aspects of the production is how damn good the whole thing looks on a ridiculously small budget. After crowdfunding failed to produce enough funds for a full-length, Sandberg and company opted to turn their idea into a short. The whole film was essentially shot in the Swedish filmmaker’s office, utilizing green screens for everything, and budgeted on such a shoestring that they only had one, shared uniform for the scene where Kung Fury wades into an ocean of Nazis. It looks cheap, of course, but by design, not accident. When necessary, the film is as fully immersive as any mega-budget Hollywood blockbuster, stock-footage wolf or not.

Since part of the sheer, unmitigated joy of the short is giving yourself over to its particular brand of lunacy, I’ll refrain from spoiling much more, although I could probably list my fifteen favorite moments and still have enough leftover material for at least fifteen more. Suffice to say that if you’re a fan of absurd fare like Danger Force Five, ’80s action films or bone-dry humor, Sandberg’s Kung Fury should steal a pretty massive piece of your heart. With a promised full-length version over the horizon (featuring no recycled footage which, in and of itself, is kinda mind-blowing), I have a feeling that we’re all going to be seeing a lot more of Sandberg and his inspired brand on insanity.

I still think that the perfect roller-coaster is a short, sharp shock to the system. I’m more than willing to let David Sandberg prove me wrong, however: if nothing else, Kung Fury has handily earned him that right. Too much of a good thing? Bring it on.

11/22/15: Two is the Loneliest Number

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Americans abroad, backpackers, based on a short story, Bidzina Gujabidze, Caucasus Mountains, cinema, dramas, Eastern Europe, film reviews, filmed in Republic of Georgia, films, Gael Garcia Bernal, Hani Furstenberg, Inti Briones, Julia Loktev, Movies, relationships on the rocks, Shalva Kirikashvili, The Loneliest Planet, writer-director

What do you call a film that features gorgeous cinematography, beautiful locations and almost no sense of dramatic tension, character development or desire to propel the narrative forward? While I would have accepted either “a travelogue” or “vacation footage shot on a RED camera” as correct answers, the one that I was actually going for was The Loneliest Planet (2011), writer-director Julia Loktev’s examination of a relationship pushed to the breaking point. Despite being a genuinely lovely film to look at, The Loneliest Planet ends up as the cinematic equivalent of a postcard: flat, one-dimensional and utterly static.

Engaged cutie-pies Alex (Gael Garcia Bernal) and Nica (Hani Furstenberg) are on a picturesque backpacking expedition through the gorgeous, green countryside of the Republic of Georgia and they couldn’t be happier. So in love with each other that they not only spend every waking minute together but also gleefully discuss each other’s bowel movements, this is the couple that every rom-com meet-cute in existence was founded on.

Trouble eventually (very, very eventually) shatters their happy existence, however, when the couple and their local guide, Dato (Bidzina Gujabidze), run afoul of a few grumpy, armed locals. In one moment of complete, unblinking cowardice (think Ruben Ostlund’s Force Majeure (2014), for comparison), Alex destroys their complacent happiness and reorients the relationship along a much more antagonistic route. With the joy and innocence completely bled from their formerly care-free trip, will Alex and Nica be able to make things right between them or has their relationship been damaged beyond repair? Once you’ve seen your significant other in a new, unfavorable light, is it ever possible to go back to “the good old days”? Can innocence lost ever be regained?

First of all, let’s speak to the film’s obvious selling point: cinematographer Inti Briones shot some impossibly beautiful, genuinely stunning footage and it’s showcased here in all its glory. The vistas are sweeping and verdant, the numerous wide shots are suitably evocative and all of the locations, whether wide, open fields or ramshackle, abandoned buildings pop off the screen in bright, vibrant colors. This is a film that could function just as well with the sound turned off (perhaps better, in some cases), honest testament to the beauty of the imagery here. Despite whatever else I felt about the film, my admiration for the look and camera-work are truly heartfelt.

The downside, unfortunately, is that the excellent cinematography and beautiful locations do nothing to conceal the fact that The Loneliest Planet is dull, devoid of tension, lacks any kind of character development and runs on for at least 40 minutes too long. The film is obnoxiously repetitive, to the point of seeming almost parodic: the scene where Nica sings the odious “Don Gato” song goes on for so long and is so straight-faced that I half-expected Seth McFarlane to pop up at some point. Repetition to make a point is one thing: letting scenes drag on well after the point has been made is something else altogether.

In a nutshell, that might be The Loneliest Planet’s Achilles heel: almost every shot, scene and beat in the entire two-hour run-time is held for much longer than it needs to be. Not only does this inflate the film to an unnecessary degree (trim the shots and I’m willing to wager the film wraps-up around a much more manageable 90-100 minute time-frame) but it also robs the tension out of everything and grinds the film to a complete standstill even during those (brief) moments where it should be sprinting. Sure, there’s definitely an art-house aesthetic going on here, an aesthetic which generally encourages longer, more static shots. That being said, Loktev holds everything here just long enough to cross from “effective” to “irritating”: it’s no hyperbole to say that almost every shot and scene needed much more judicial use of the trimming tool than they ultimately received.

To compound issues, the film manages to criminally under-use Bernal (one of our most expressive, interesting modern actors) and Gujabidze (the real emotional center of the film), while tipping the scales in favor of Furstenberg, who more often than not radiates blankness more than any kind of relatable emotion. Chalk this up to the script, which saddles poor Furstenberg with scenes like the aforementioned “Don Gato” monstrosity, but there were few times that I ever felt she was more than another “quirky manic pixie girl.” While Bernal gets the odd moment to shine, here and there, Furstenberg gets an equal amount of camera-time and far less to do with it. For a film that is, fundamentally, about a relationship between two people, The Loneliest Planet often feels like only one of the principals is doing any heavy lifting.

Lest all of the above suggest that I hated The Loneliest Planet, let me lay that to rest: I never really became invested in it enough to feel strongly one way or the other. More than anything, I was disappointed, since there are plenty of moments that hint at what the film actually could have been: the inciting incident is genuinely tense, even if Force Majeure used that particular plot device in a more effective manner…the campfire scene where Dato relates his hard-luck story is a real gut-punch, much more powerful and emotionally resonate than anything that came before…the impromptu volleyball game is genuinely cute and fun, the exact tone that the first half of the film tries (and fails) to nail…those eye-popping visuals…the problem ends up being that Loktev introduces some genuinely interesting elements and then proceeds to focus on the most uninteresting, repetitive parts of the narrative.

Ultimately, my biggest beef with the film isn’t that nothing (literally) happens until almost the midpoint of a two-hour film: I’ve seen plenty of films where it seems like nothing is going on until nearly the conclusion and liked them just fine. My biggest beef with the film is that any moment of forward momentum or genuine interest exists only as momentary up-blips on a generally inert lifeline. The Loneliest Planet takes its time getting to its destination, only to, ultimately, never arrive. It’s the equivalent of someone taking the time to careful arrange the letters on a poster-board sign, only to run out of room with half the word still missing. There’s a good film nestled in The Loneliest Planet’s bloat, like the tiny center of a set of Russian stacking dolls: whether you want to take the time to get to it, however, is a question only you can answer.

11/21/15 (Part Two): The Abyss Stares Back

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Amy Jump, auteur theory, Ben Wheatley, best friends, British films, cinema, co-writers, contract killers, disturbing films, Emma Fryer, fate, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Harry Simpson, hitmen, husband-wife relationship, Kill List, Laurie Rose, Michael Smiley, Movies, MyAnna Buring, Neil Maskell, psychological horror, secret societies, strange ceremonies, Struan Rodger, twist ending, writer-director-editor

When one is standing at the bottom of a very deep hole, looking up at a tiny patch of daylight, it’s tempting to say that it can only get better from there: the only way is up, after all. This, of course, is a very comforting lie, the kind of fairy tale that helps us all sleep better at night. The plain and simple truth of the matter is that things can always get worse: regardless of far down you’ve already dug your hole, there’s always new depths to aspire to. As humans, the very bravest (and foolhardy) thing we can do is stare fate right in the face and dare it to blink. We’ll lose, every time, but that doesn’t stop us from trying.

Nowhere is this notion made more explicit than in British auteur Ben Wheatley’s sophomore film, Kill List (2011). When we first meet Jay (Neil Maskell), the poor bastard seems to have dug a hole as far into the earth as humanly possible. Out of work for eight months, after botching some sort of undisclosed job that appears to have left him with a potent case of PTSD, Jay’s doing everything he can to hold his life together, even if he’s doing a piss-poor job of it. Jay and his wife, Shel (MyAnna Buring), are at each others’ throats constantly, to the point where they routinely hurl bottles against walls and scream in each others’ faces until they’re out-of-breath. To make a bad situation even better, their young son, Sam (Harry Simpson), is a silent, aching witness to the whole massive shit show, wanting nothing more than some semblance of peace in his shattered home.

Things start to look up a bit, however, when Jay’s partner, Gal (Michael Smiley), shows up for a night of drinking, merriment and reminiscing. As the night progresses, complete with a number of potent meltdowns between the feuding spouses, Gal takes Michael aside and offers him an opportunity to “get back up on the horse” and bring a much-needed sense of financial security back to his domestic war-zone. Caught between a rock and an even sharper rock, Jay’s only too eager to get back to earning and takes Gal up on his offer.

Just what, exactly, did Jay and Gal do before whatever happened eight months prior? Well, as it turns out, they were hitmen, a revelation that Wheatley gets out of the way fairly quickly. Gal has just received a job offer that promises maximum money for minimum effort: all they have to do are exterminate three separate targets and they’ll get enough money to make any number of problems permanently disappear. After the pair meet with their strange “client” (a suitably sinister Struan Rodger), a meeting that ends with an impromptu blood oath, they set off on their fated path, uneasy but determined to get the job(s) done. It doesn’t take a psychic to know that this ends up being a very, very bad idea, the kind of bad idea that proves, once and for all, that life can always get worse. Much, much worse.

From his humble beginnings with the caustically comic “kitchen-sink-and-gangsters” flick Down Terrace (2009) all the way to his upcoming, much ballyhooed adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s High Rise (2016), writer-director Ben Wheatley has made a sort-of cottage industry out of the intersection between “polite” British society and the howling insanity of a world gone very, very wrong. By mashing character dramas up with more traditional (“traditional” being a relative term, here) genre films, Wheatley gives extra heft to his narratives, providing intricate insight into characters that, in lesser hands, might across as either vilely unredeemable or completely sociopathic. In Wheatley films, there are never traditional “heroes” or “villains,” nor is there, necessarily, a “right” or “wrong.” There just is, for better or worse…often, of course, for the worse.

Like all of Wheatley’s films, Kill List takes so many sudden turns and reveals so many surprises that to reveal much beyond a basic synopsis is to rob new viewers of a singularly unique experience. As far as plot and story goes, suffice to say that you will call some of the twists (or, at the very least, suspect them) but you will never call all of them, least of all the harrowing, soul-shattering climax. You may think that you know what Wheatley’s doing and, for a time, you might be right. Hell: even after seeing the film a half dozen times, I still find myself second-guessing earlier viewings and readjusting my understanding of the proceedings.

This, of course, is one of the hallmarks of any indispensable film: that ability to return, time and time again and discover new thrills with each subsequent viewing. There are plenty of exquisitely made films that have always been “one-and-dones” for me: it’s to Kill List’s great credit that, despite the film’s many unpleasantries, I keep returning to it, time after time. Chalk this up to the exceptional filmcraft, the airtight writing or the stellar performances (there, literally, isn’t a bad performance from the entire cast, whether in lead or walk-on parts) but Wheatley’s Kill List is the very definition of a modern classic.

Despite all of this, however, I find myself offering the same caveat that I do with many of my favorite films: Kill List, despite its overriding quality, is not a film for everyone. This is a film that delves into the very heart of darkness that so many genre and horror films only hint at, a film that derives its hideous power not from a collection of gory onscreen effects (although there’s plenty of those) but from the deeper horror of shattered humanity. The finale is impossibly, almost oppressively horrifying, make no bones about it, but it’s also deeply and fundamentally sad and hopeless, the kind of revelation that sucks the wind out of your sails, leaving you defeated and broken.

Kill List is many things: a tale of friendship and duty; a heartbreaking look into the dissolution of a marriage; an examination of the destructive power of anger and the redemptive nature of martyrdom; a mystery; a grotesque; a cautionary tale. Kill List is all of these things and so many more. Above and beyond all else, however, Wheatley’s Kill List is a dark, savage, merciless abyss: stare into it, by all means, but don’t be surprised if you find that the abyss also stares back at you.