It's that time again.
God help us.
Oscar fever is upon us.
And it won't go away.
A few of the likely Oscar contenders have not yet opened in San Antonio, so I’ll wait a little while before stopping the presses to announce my own 2006 Top Ten List. However, I must say it’s been an odd year, without a stand-out great film emerging to lead the pack of hopefuls to that tinsel-tarnished finish line. Where is this year's Brokeback Mountain or Munich? It is also little strange, but quite liberating, to admit that right now, as Oscar’s chaotic countdown kicks into high gear with the usual hype and hoopla, the best movie I have seen all year is Casino Royale.
And no need to repeat all the much-deserved praise heaped upon director Martin Campbell and leading man Daniel Craig. There’s nothing new to be said here, nothing new left to cheer. No need to repeat the dozens of testimonials claiming this to be one of the best, maybe the best Bond epic ever. But if you haven’t seen it, then get thee to the Cineplex this weekend. Even if you don’t share my enthusiasm, you can at least tell your grandkids you were there when cock-and-ball torture was introduced to mainstream cinema.
Maybe I am getting old, or maybe all those Bergman movies I watched obsessively during my college years are finally catching up with me. Maybe that’s why I wake up shivering after yet another nightmare featuring Liv Ullmann or Max Von Sydow. Who knows? But lately what I want at the movies or from Netflix is simple: solid, well-crafted entertainment. And Casino Royale offers just that. Over-the-top, pulse-pounding fun.
I have loved movies obsessively all my life but lately the very thought of revisiting The Tree of Wooden Clogs or Berlin Alexanderplatz sends me screaming into the night in search of a Thelma Ritter marathon on Turner Classic Movies. The Seven Samurai? Maybe next month, but right now just give me Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.
Look at what’s out there right now. The usual round-up of serious, high-minded and, in a few cases, compelling films. Take Babel, for example. The directing-writing team of Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu and Guillermo Arriaga have given us another fine and masterful work, if perhaps a tad over-arching and maybe not quite as great as Amores Perros. Yet it delivers on its promise to be one of the big, serious movies of the year when things like The Good Shepherd and Flags of Our Fathers aren’t really living up to their great expectations. Inarritu has made a marvelous –and harrowing—meditation on several topical themes, fully loaded with standout performances, including two amazing and heartbreaking portrayals courtesy of Adriana Barazza and Rinko Kikuchi . It will probably land a spot on my “best of 2006” list but, like Schindler’s List and Greed and Grease 2, I doubt I can ever sit through it again.
I’m also very fond of Little Miss Sunshine and The Queen but when looking at the list of Oscar hopefuls, I am surprised to find myself in a minority when it comes to The Departed. In a nutshell, I didn’t like it that much. With an overwrought and improbable plot, Scorsese’s magnificent misfire at least offers a few treats, namely Nicholson’s fabulous, this-close-to-shameless scenery munching and some smart and funny work, in smaller roles, by Ray Winstone and Mark Wahlberg.
Otherwise, I find it too long, with a tedious third act and a bizarre performance by the LA Critics darling Vera Farmiga who seems to have wandered in from a Group Theater production of The Wild Duck. And, oddly, it serves up Matt Damon in maybe his least-compelling performance to date. Give me another viewing of The Bourne Identity, please. Now that's entertainment.
Here’s the thing: the movies for which Scorsese should have taken home the trophy is an exhausted, worn-out discussion. And I am betting that rather than install him in the company of Alfred Hitchcock, Richard Burton and Agnes Moorehead, the Academy is going to give him the gold this year, no matter what. No deathbed honorary Oscar for Marty. Hell, he could have directed The Santa Clause 3 and his nomination –and win- would still be this close to a sure thing.
And who’s willing to bet that despite his umpteen critics’ awards, Forest Whitaker will go nose to nose with Peter O’Toole? Admittedly, I haven’t seen either of their films yet, but then again, when was it ever required to actually see a movie before being qualified to handicap its Oscar chances? I mean, when did not seeing every nominated film ever keep an Academy member from casting a ballot? Handicapping the annual Academy horse race has, in the end, very little to do with any familiarity with the movies in question. Of course, this is another topic that has been chatted and chewed to death; so, back to O’Toole vs. Whitaker. I am a big fan of the latter, and that includes his recent and very juicy turn on The Shield, but isn’t there some rule that clearly stipulates if you were in Battlefield Earth you may never be nominated for an Oscar ever again? The real face-off will be due to Whitaker’s going up against one of the last of the living legends. Lawrence of Arabia. Mr. Chips. King Henry II. Twice. So, come on, how great would it be to see our own Lord Jim ascend those steps at the Kodak and claim Best Actor a few years after getting his honorary “we better give you this before you die” Oscar? Great, indeed.
OK, enough for now. To be continued. However, if you can't get enough of the frenzy leading up to this year's quest for the little golden man, then head on over to Oscarwatch. It's the best of all the Oscar sites and will link you to everyone and everything having to do with this merry madness. As for me, I'm turning in. I need to finish watching one of Ingmar's more lighthearted romps. Shame, anyone?
And no need to repeat all the much-deserved praise heaped upon director Martin Campbell and leading man Daniel Craig. There’s nothing new to be said here, nothing new left to cheer. No need to repeat the dozens of testimonials claiming this to be one of the best, maybe the best Bond epic ever. But if you haven’t seen it, then get thee to the Cineplex this weekend. Even if you don’t share my enthusiasm, you can at least tell your grandkids you were there when cock-and-ball torture was introduced to mainstream cinema.Maybe I am getting old, or maybe all those Bergman movies I watched obsessively during my college years are finally catching up with me. Maybe that’s why I wake up shivering after yet another nightmare featuring Liv Ullmann or Max Von Sydow. Who knows? But lately what I want at the movies or from Netflix is simple: solid, well-crafted entertainment. And Casino Royale offers just that. Over-the-top, pulse-pounding fun.
I have loved movies obsessively all my life but lately the very thought of revisiting The Tree of Wooden Clogs or Berlin Alexanderplatz sends me screaming into the night in search of a Thelma Ritter marathon on Turner Classic Movies. The Seven Samurai? Maybe next month, but right now just give me Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.
Look at what’s out there right now. The usual round-up of serious, high-minded and, in a few cases, compelling films. Take Babel, for example. The directing-writing team of Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu and Guillermo Arriaga have given us another fine and masterful work, if perhaps a tad over-arching and maybe not quite as great as Amores Perros. Yet it delivers on its promise to be one of the big, serious movies of the year when things like The Good Shepherd and Flags of Our Fathers aren’t really living up to their great expectations. Inarritu has made a marvelous –and harrowing—meditation on several topical themes, fully loaded with standout performances, including two amazing and heartbreaking portrayals courtesy of Adriana Barazza and Rinko Kikuchi . It will probably land a spot on my “best of 2006” list but, like Schindler’s List and Greed and Grease 2, I doubt I can ever sit through it again.
I’m also very fond of Little Miss Sunshine and The Queen but when looking at the list of Oscar hopefuls, I am surprised to find myself in a minority when it comes to The Departed. In a nutshell, I didn’t like it that much. With an overwrought and improbable plot, Scorsese’s magnificent misfire at least offers a few treats, namely Nicholson’s fabulous, this-close-to-shameless scenery munching and some smart and funny work, in smaller roles, by Ray Winstone and Mark Wahlberg.Otherwise, I find it too long, with a tedious third act and a bizarre performance by the LA Critics darling Vera Farmiga who seems to have wandered in from a Group Theater production of The Wild Duck. And, oddly, it serves up Matt Damon in maybe his least-compelling performance to date. Give me another viewing of The Bourne Identity, please. Now that's entertainment.
Here’s the thing: the movies for which Scorsese should have taken home the trophy is an exhausted, worn-out discussion. And I am betting that rather than install him in the company of Alfred Hitchcock, Richard Burton and Agnes Moorehead, the Academy is going to give him the gold this year, no matter what. No deathbed honorary Oscar for Marty. Hell, he could have directed The Santa Clause 3 and his nomination –and win- would still be this close to a sure thing.
And who’s willing to bet that despite his umpteen critics’ awards, Forest Whitaker will go nose to nose with Peter O’Toole? Admittedly, I haven’t seen either of their films yet, but then again, when was it ever required to actually see a movie before being qualified to handicap its Oscar chances? I mean, when did not seeing every nominated film ever keep an Academy member from casting a ballot? Handicapping the annual Academy horse race has, in the end, very little to do with any familiarity with the movies in question. Of course, this is another topic that has been chatted and chewed to death; so, back to O’Toole vs. Whitaker. I am a big fan of the latter, and that includes his recent and very juicy turn on The Shield, but isn’t there some rule that clearly stipulates if you were in Battlefield Earth you may never be nominated for an Oscar ever again? The real face-off will be due to Whitaker’s going up against one of the last of the living legends. Lawrence of Arabia. Mr. Chips. King Henry II. Twice. So, come on, how great would it be to see our own Lord Jim ascend those steps at the Kodak and claim Best Actor a few years after getting his honorary “we better give you this before you die” Oscar? Great, indeed.
OK, enough for now. To be continued. However, if you can't get enough of the frenzy leading up to this year's quest for the little golden man, then head on over to Oscarwatch. It's the best of all the Oscar sites and will link you to everyone and everything having to do with this merry madness. As for me, I'm turning in. I need to finish watching one of Ingmar's more lighthearted romps. Shame, anyone? 
