Film Babble Blog's Oscars 2012 Recap!

Last night, the 84th Academy Awards went a lot smoother than last year's James Franco/Anne Hathaway-helmed debacle. I've seen a bunch of Billy Crystal bashing online for doing the same old tired schtick, but I thought that's what they brought him back to do. His song and dance medley made my head hurt, but he had some funny moments. I loved this line in particular:

“Nothing eases the world's economic woes like watching millionaires give each other gold statues!”



Otherwise, there were few surprises. Christopher Plummer gave the classiest speach, Angelina Jolie made the creepiest pose, Octavia Spencer freaked out the most, and Christopher Guest and co.'s bit on film as a focus group in 1939 discussing THE WIZARD OF OZ was funnier than their last movie which was about the Oscars: FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION.



As for my Oscar picks I did a little better than the last 2 years when I guessed 13 out of 24. This year I got 15 out of 24.



Here's the ones I got wrong:



BEST ACTOR: I picked George Clooney for THE DESCENDANTS, but I should've figured that Jean Dujardin would get caught in the sweep for THE ARTIST. It's fine by me, I loved Dujardin's performance and thought it was cool that he thanked Douglas Fairbanks in his acceptance speech.



BEST ACTRESS: I think most folks were surprised that Meryl Streep won her 3rd Oscar for her excellent work as Margaret Thatcher (who she didn't thank) in THE IRON LADY over the others (Viola Davis, Michelle Williams, Glenn Close, and Rooney Mara). I had chosen Michelle Williams for her ace acting as Marilyn Monroe, but that was a personal choice - I expected either Viola Davis or Glenn Close to win. Streep, who seemed surprised too, said “I really understand I'll never be up here again,” but I bet she will be - the Academy likes her, they really like her!



BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY: I really thought Emmanuel Lubezki would win for THE TREE OF LIFE. I really did. Sigh.



BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: This was another I thought I was going to get wrong, but I still went with PARADISE 3: PURGATORY because, well, that was the only documentary of the nominees that I’ve seen. I’ll have to track down UNDEFEATED now.



BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT: I was just shooting in the dark on this one. I've seen none of the nominees and I just liked the title THE TSUNAMI AND THE CHERRY BLOSSOM. Oh well, congrats to SAVING FACE.



BEST FILM EDITING: I should’ve known Martin Scorsese’s long time editor Thelma Schoonmaker wouldn’t get this – she’s won 3 times before. Angus Wall and Kirk Baxter did do a good job on THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO so bully for them.



BEST VISUAL EFFECTS: I really didn’t expect HUGO to sweep the technical awards, but it sure did – it won best cinematography, art direction, sound and this one. I had picked RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES. That's right.



BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT: This was a surprise because I saw these shorts at the Galaxy Theater in Cary last week, and I thought RAJU would be up the Academy's alley. Instead they went for the sentimental Irish short THE SHORE. My personal choice would've been TIME FREAK, but I knew they would think that was too silly. At least I was right about that.



BEST SOUND EDITING: Another one from the HUGO sweep I didn't anticipate. I had picked WAR HORSE, but that didn't win anything.



Okay! So that's that. Here's hoping that next year I'll do better.

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THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO - Now In English!

THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (Dir. David Fincher, 2011)

Despite the fact that the opening title sequence, a montage of shiny black bondage imagery synched to Karen O and Trent Reznor’s blaring cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song”, is as in-your-face as the director can get, this is oddly the least stylish of David Fincher’s films.



It’s clear that Fincher and screenwriter Steven Zaillion have set out to do a second adaptation of Stieg Larsson’s bestselling novel (the 1st in the “Millenium” trilogy), rather than a remake of the 2009 Swedish film, but it so often follows the storyline in the same icy manner that it feels unshakably redundant.



That is, unless you absolutely can’t stand subtitles and will only watch movies in English. Then this is the version for you.



Taking a break from Bond, Daniel Craig takes on the part that Michael Nyqvist (who can be seen currently as the villain in the new MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE movie) originally played in the Swedish THE GIRL… series, financial magazine reporter Mikael Blomkvist, who accepts an offer from wealthy industrialist Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer) to investigate a 40 year old disappearance right after he loses a libel suit.



In order to do research on the long missing person, Plummer’s great niece Harriet (a teenager at the time of abduction), Craig is provided with a guest house on the fictional Hedeby Island in Stockholm that is inhabited by the suspicious members of the family, including an extra creepy Stellan Skarsgård. Plummer calls his relations: “The most detestable collection of people you will ever meet.” When we learn secrets of Nazi connections and sexual abuse, we know that’s no exaggeration.



Craig is being investigated himself, by the punk bad-ass hacker Lisbeth Salander played by Rooney Mara, who does a great job matching Noomi Rapace’s pointed portrayal. Mara is definitely the best thing about this one.



Craig and Mara soon start working together on the case, in procedural sequences that echo Fincher’s ZODIAC, and getting it on – in sex scenes way steamier than the original’s, so it wins on that front.



This version of THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO has moments of sublimity, but never gels enough to have an identity of its own. Craig, who plausibly plays a character way less confident than the iconic 007, and Mara have palpable chemistry, but when it comes down to the love triangle ending, involving a wooden Robin Wright waiting in the wings, we never feel like the leads are supposed to be together anyway so the emotional impact falls flat.



I know there will be plenty of folks who will go to see this movie who haven’t seen the original Swedish one, and they will likely be more satisfied with this one than I am. I mean, it has higher production values, “name” actors, and, yes, it is in English. 





However, for folks already familiar with this material, these elements have the unfortunate effect of reducing Larsson’s scenarios into just slightly above average American thriller fare.



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BEGINNERS: The Film Babble Blog Review

BEGINNERS (Dir. Mike Mills, 2011)

Mills' second feature posits itself as a more poignant piece than his dorky debut THUMBSUCKER (2007). It involves an earnest, soft spoken as usual, Ewan McGregor dealing with the death of his 75 year old father (Christopher Plummer) from cancer.



Previously Plummer came out as gay after his wife of 40 years died. Through his daily depression, McGregor has many flashbacks that tell the story of his father's dying days from the personal ad dating scene to his dying bed.



McGregor inherits his dad's dog, a Jack Russell terrier, who he talks to, and the dog answers in comic subtitles like "While I understand up to 150 words - I can't talk." Cute, huh?



McGregor works as a cartoonist or illustrator (not quite sure which) for a firm that working on album art for an indie band called The Sads. Isn't that cute too?



At a costume party with his co-workers, McGregor dressed as Sigmund Freud meets Mélanie Laurent (INGLORIOUS BASTERDS) dressed as Charlie Chaplin who writes on a notepad to communicate because she has laryngitis. Got that? A major meet-cute.



Set in 2003, the film is full of a sort of slide-show framing device in which McGregor narrates over photos of people and places from previous periods in order for us to get the proper perspective. "This is what the sun looked like, the stars, this is the President" etc. Again we're drowning in cuteness.



If you haven't already guessed, this film struck me as way too cutesy.



The despair over losing a loved one, especially one whose real identity you are just beginning to process, is only touched on affectingly in the final scenes. Otherwise it's a eye-roller with little depth or narrative thrust.



Plummer is an excellent actor who puts a lot into his performance here, but it's an underwritten role. His relationship with the much younger Goran Visjnic, his first openly homosexual relationship, is thankfully not treated cheaply, but it just hangs there as a unexplored thread.



The film has unfinished thoughts as well about McGregor's career, his inability to commit to Laurent even after he asks her to move in, and his off kilter mother (Mary Page Keller) who we see in flashbacks acting all weird at home and embarrassing her son at an art gallery.



I feel somewhat Scrooge-ish in dissing this film, because I know there's an autobiographical element here (Mills' father died after coming out) and on the surface BEGINNERS is a perfectly pleasant indie movie with likable leads, a listenable soundtrack, and, yep, a lot of cuteness that some folks will think is just fine.



But to me it was cloyingly incomplete. An edgeless experience.



If Mills would flesh out his characters more and cut down on the cuteness, I would be inclined to get on board with his work since there's certainly heart there, but I just can't get on board with BEGINNERS.



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THE LAST STATION: The Film Babble Blog Review

THE LAST STATION
(Dir. Michael Hoffman, 2009)

Considering his fine lengthy career, it's amazing that the distinguished actor Christopher Plummer has never before been nominated for an Oscar. Well, here as Leo Tolstoy in this mostly strong historical drama about the famed Russian author's final days, Plummer simply could not be ignored by the Academy.

He and his much celebrated co-star, Helen Mirren as Tolstoy's acidic wife Sofya, both scored nominations which I believe many audiences will find are well deserved. The imprint made by their volatile chemistry will last long after Awards season hype was died down.

Opening titles tell us that Tolstoy is the most acclaimed writer in history and other things we could easily Google, and the ending features ancient footage of the real man - an inescapable cliché of seemingly every biopic - but in between is an emotionally complex examination of a stubborn man's ideals.

These are no ordinary ideals you understand - this is a man who is thought by multitudes to be a genius or even a holy figure. “You think he’s Christ!” Mirren exclaims in exasperation at one of many points. “I don’t think he’s Christ,’’ responds Tolstoy’s doctor (John Sessions). “Christ is Christ. I do believe he’s a prophet, though.’’

Mirren believes that a society of sycophants is forming around her dying husband with the moustache twirling Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti) heading the pack. Wandering innocently into the middle of Mirren and Giamatti’s fight for Tolstoy’s fortunes (she believes the family should get the copyrights, he thinks the property should go to the masses) is a wide eyed James McAvoy (maybe a bit too much like his role in THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND) hired to be the ailing author’s private secretary.

McAvoy relishes his position enough to let his celibacy slide when another Tolstoy disciple (Kerry Condon) slips into his chambers, but the real titillation comes from Plummer and Mirren playful bedroom banter.

In the company of others, Mirren is an angry defensive verbally abusive animal; alone with her venerated husband she is infested with an infectious silliness. She is truly a woman in love – in all its irrational selfish glory.

This all makes the last third of the film all the more painful. Plummer and his loving entourage travel by train across country ostensibly so the great man can get some final peace away from his wife. His final destination - that of the title – is soon surrounded by concerned citizens and guarded by his followers. Mirren tries in vain to get through them but as the saying goes, that train has long left the station.

Like last year’s brilliant BRIGHT STAR, which dealt with a dying John Keats, THE LAST STATION is concerned with the limits of love and literature. It has a sort of reserved passion boiling under its Masterpiece Theater/Merchant Ivory-ish surface that sizzles when Plummer and Mirren share the screen. The movie suffers sorely when they are absent as Giamatti has a one note villain role and McAvoy’s romantic subplot is tiresomely typical.

That those and other shortcomings can be overlooked is testament to the purity of Mirren and Plummer’s performances. In Plummer’s case it’s nice that the Academy finally took notice.

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