A snapshot of the heated interview between David Foster Wallace and David Lipsky. Photo from End of the Tour's IMDB page.
Eisenberg and Segel reel us in with The End of the Tour
The End of the Tour is the kind of movie that opens with a title card, a melancholic soundtrack, and a death, so it can only end more happily than it started. David Lipsky (played by Jesse Eisenberg) gets a phone call, informing him that David Foster Wallace, the famed writer, has committed suicide. Lipsky dismisses it as a rumour, but it immediately becomes apparent that it is true. An image of Wallace (played by Jason Segel), blurry, as old memories are, flashes by. Lipsky takes out the voice recorder he had used to interview Wallace twelve years earlier, and, as he starts listening, the viewer is transported to a place where Wallace is still alive. Sometimes sound, even more so than visuals, can be a window straight into a past that continues to exist.
This past is 1996, the 1990s being a time period filmmakers are now getting increasingly interested in. Lipsky is then a 30-year-old journalist for Rolling Stone magazine. ”Do you know how many writers we have interviewed in the last ten years?” he asks his editor. The answer is zero, seemingly because no one had been deemed worthy of it. Lipsky had been reading Wallace’s modern classic Infinite Jest, letting out a gasp before he even started the second page. He gets the assignment to write a profile on Wallace and travels to Illinois to interview the author and follow him on the last stops of his book tour. The rest, as they say, is history.
Their relationship is not an easy one. Wallace comes across as easy-going and warm, but ask him something a bit more personal, and he shuts down like a clam. Wallace is very aware that Lipsky, as friendly as he tries to be, has his own agenda, and may want to twist the article in whatever direction he chooses. Besides, Lipsky is himself a budding writer, and there is a sense of rivalry between them, which expresses itself as male insecurity when Wallace talks to Lipsky’s wife on the phone—”She likes your writing better than mine!”—or when Lipsky tries to interview the author’s old flame, and Wallace panics, thinking that Lipsky may be trying to flirt with her.
A snapshot of the heated interview between David Foster Wallace and David Lipsky. Photo from End of the Tour’s IMDB page.
They have conversations everywhere, all the time, about anything. Sometimes they talk about Wallace’s love of dogs. Sometimes Wallace asks the questions. Mostly you get the sense that Wallace, even in his good days, even at the height of his fame, suffers from extreme loneliness. He communicates through his books, and that’s the only way he seems to meet people anymore. Mostly, the film is a series of dialogues in which it is not information, but emotion that is exchanged. Jason Segel gives his character a real presence, and he doesn’t need to share deeply philosophical thoughts to sound, and look, quite meaningful. He knows how to talk, but he still comes across as quiet, because it always feels as if he has so much more to say.
This isn’t an uplifting story, but nor is it intensely dramatic. It’s not a biopic either, relying on real interviews and Lipsky’s 2010 book, but following a precise narrative compiled by screenwriter Donald Margulies. It covers a middle ground, repressing its drama just like Wallace keeps quiet about sides of himself he doesn’t want to be known. The actors do some of their best work, channeling their real-life counterparts, but also creating distinctly striking characters of their own in the process. The camera is almost always positioned as if you were present in the scene, looking over someone’s shoulder, eavesdropping in the street, listening from the back-seat of a car. You don’t need to be part of the conversation to enjoy it—listening to these characters is plenty enough.
Go back to the dawn of gangsta rap with this entertaining biopic
It might surprise you that, as fresh and energetic as it is, Straight Outta Compton follows two different long-going cinematic traditions. The first is the musical biography, which is essentially as old as movies themselves – well, as old as the first ones to talk, that is. Let me remind you that 1927’s The Jazz Singer, arguably the first so-called “talkie”, while not a biography, was also very much a “singie.” The first talkies were full of music and singing, and at some point the musical biography appeared and never looked back. Just about everyone would try their hand at it, even Hitchcock, in the now-forgotten Strauss’ Great Waltz, a mostly fictional story revolving around the classical composer Strauss. It was then a popular genre throughout the ‘40s, ‘50s and even ‘60s, almost exploitation-like, starting with 1948’s The Jolson Story and The Mozart Story, and following with “the this-story,” “the that-story”—you get the idea.
The second tradition is a more recent one. I’m talking about the African-American drama, to which belongs the iconic Boyz n the Hood, a major influence on Straight Outta Compton—or “The N.W.A. Story,” as it would have been called in the ‘50s. As in the ‘90s John Singleton film, we’ve got “boyz”—5 of them—and we’ve got a “hood”—Compton, California. This is a film about them coming “straight out of it”—but also about it being more than a physical place, a state of mind that they are cursed to carry with them even as multi-millionaires. Meet the “boyz”: Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, DJ Yella and MC Ren. If you don’t like gangsta rap, all you just saw was a series of seemingly unconnected words and letters, but if you do, you know this is the stuff of legend.
They weren’t born into stardom, not even close. As the movie opens, the number of guns drawn grows by the minute, and the police have to use what looks like an assault tank to storm a drug lord’s house. We meet each of the protagonists and witness through their eyes the realities of their neighborhood and the environment from which they would emerge. In a place like that, a good day means you live to see the next one. The area is ruled by gangs—it still is, to this day—and police are only there to intimidate and oppress. Young men need an outlet for their raging discomfort, and these protagonists find an excellent one—music. They’re all gifted musicians and singers—or, some will say, shouters—and soon enough, they find a manager, Jerry Heller (Paul Giamatti) and are on their way to nationwide fame. The movie documents the bumps on the road as they get there.
Purists will know it’s not entirely accurate, although it comes rather close in most aspects. Film critic Roger Ebert once wrote, “Those who seek the truth about a man from the film of his life might as well seek it from his loving grandmother.” Straight Outta Compton was produced by Ice Cube and Dr. Dre, two of the protagonists, so clearly the view you get is ever so slightly biased. Some important people remain in the shadows. Much of the crime and evildoing is conveniently ignored. But the movie seems to have captured something about the lives of the regular people who lived through these times that most others have not.
Straight Outta Compton works on several levels. Most importantly, purely as a piece of history. These guys, whether you like them or not, helped push forward a multi-billion-dollar industry, and created music that has shaped the culture of an entire generation. The movie illustrates a time and a place, and, as all good historical films do, draws parallels with our own time. It was filmed while the Ferguson protests were happening, and while watching this movie you may shiver when you notice how little things have changed when it comes to police brutality towards the black community in the U.S.A. A high point in the movie comes as the N.W.A. are forbidden to perform their infamous “Fuck the Police” at a packed concert. After a stare-down with a police officer, they decide to go ahead anyways, and in that moment, they are no longer just self-proclaimed gangstas, troublemakers without a cause—they are national heroes resisting in the face of oppression, people who have legitimate grievances but are being forbidden to express them in a system that is biased against them.
End your summer on a high note with this delightful NYC comedy
Mistress America comes at you like a whirlwind of fresh air on a scalding hot day—the perfect entertainment for an end-of-summer evening. Sit back, relax, and let Noah Baumbach handle the rest.
When it comes to Woody Allen movies, most of the recent ones have been filmed in Europe. This is because, as he said at a 2010 press conference in Spain, New York City has gotten too expensive and is not a haven of creativity anymore. Well, Baumbach’s charming indie comedy reaches an artistic high point that Allen doesn’t always reach anymore, proving him wrong on both issues. Baumbach is more or less sitting on Allen’s throne in the city, and he is certainly no less talented. Baumbach is smart to allow new blood into the screenwriting process. Allen can never speak for today’s young people, and when he tries to, his dialogue has an awkward and somewhat artificial sound to it. Baumbach, on the other hand, has collaborated several times with Greta Gerwig, a lovely actress and gifted writer who is an integral part of this film.
Gerwig, as the 30-year-old Brooke, shares the screen with Lola Kirke, who plays 18-year-old Tracy. Tracy’s mom is marrying Brooke’s dad, so the two women are about to become sisters. Tracy has just moved to NYC for college and decides to give Brooke a call. They meet, spend a night partying—in Baumbach’s world, that means intellectual and artistic debates—and become close friends. There is a sense that Tracy is an outsider, introverted and lacking confidence, while Brooke, a dynamic entrepreneur who seems to have an exciting part-time job lined-up for every hour of the day, gets out of life what Tracy can only get out of books.
Neither one has any siblings of their own. With the parents out of the picture, save for a few phone calls, the film devotes itself entirely to the two young women. Tracy, who speaks to us through voice-over, starts writing a short story inspired by Brooke’s life, which she finds to be, perhaps vampirically, an ideal feeding ground. Regardless of Tracy’s ambition as a writer, their relationship is close and affectionate, yet life tends to get in the way, and that’s where much of the comedy – but also drama – arises. There’s some talk about love, friendship, terrifically memorable side characters, but mostly the film is simply about the excitement of being young and alive in a city full of opportunity.
The story is wonderful, and while some late developments can seem forced, it opens with energy, ends with a bang, and leaves you with a stupid grin when the lights come up. If Frances Ha was an obvious homage to the French New Wave, Baumbach’s new film is decidedly modern, but also unexplainably old fashioned. He has a knack for making the most ordinary events into an adventure – perhaps he got that from Wes Anderson, a past collaborator of his. Mistress America is a total delight, with the kind of lightning-fast and deadpan hilarious dialogue you only hear in old movies. If you always tell yourself that “they don’t make them like that anymore”, guess what – they still do. You just have to know the venue.
The 86th annual Academy Awards are set to air on Sunday March 2nd.
He got them all right last year—how will Elijah fare in 2015?
Graphic Jenny Kwan
Well, folks, another year has gone by, and despite the Doomsday Clock being at its closest to midnight since 1984, we are still here. A lot has changed since February 2014, but some things remain the same. Isn’t that a reassurance, to know exactly what you’ll be doing at a given time, every year? I know what I’ll be doing on February 22nd 2015 – like millions of others around the globe, I will be tuning in to the 87th Academy Awards ceremony.
Last year, I wrote: “The truth is that the Academy is undergoing a period of serious transition. In only a few years, we’ve seen a woman win a Best Director award, more ethnical groups represented than ever before, and people seemingly destined for a life of anonimity pulled out of their ordinary lives by well-deserved nominations.”
I stand by that, but I may have spoken too fast. This year has been, some say, too male-centric. Too white. #OscarSoWhite became a popular trend on Twitter, in apparent payback for the omission of “Selma” in the Best Director and Best Actor categories. Yes, no woman was nominated for Best Director. Yes, all Acting nominees were white. Does that mean that racism or sexism is in play?
I wouldn’t be so sure. What if a snub is just that – what if Academy members genuinely prefer one movie, or one performance, to another? Should they nominate a person solely to appease a certain community? Vote for someone solely on the basis of their ethnicity or gender? Wouldn’t that be just as bad as not nominating them in the first place? In both cases, that person would be given an unequal treatment.
The problem with art is that it is inherently subjective. Academy members found “Selma” worthy of a Best Picture and a Best Original Song nomination. They chose to reward other films in other categories. They are entitled to an opinion, and we shouldn’t try to force their hand. If anything is to be learned from this controversy, it is that perhaps not enough African-American and female filmmakers are given an opportunity to make the films they really want to make. People rallied behind “Selma” precisely because it was perhaps the only film to have been given that opportunity in the last year.
But enough polemics. Let’s get down to Oscar predictions! Read no further if you wish to avoid spoilers! Last year, they all came true.
Best Picture
There are eight films competing for the award this year, all of them worthy of consideration. When you think of the kind of films that win Oscars, you typically think of heavy historical dramas – commonly known as Oscar bait. But sometimes, you’re in for a surprise. The two front-runners are unlikely candidates, notable for their bold artistic choices: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood and Alejandro G. Iñarittu’s Birdman.
Boyhood is a tender look at the life of a young boy and his family. Admirably, it was filmed over 12 years – a first for a fiction film, and possibly a last. When it was first rumoured to be a major Oscar contestant, the idea seemed absurd – Oscar voters love big, important stories, but Boyhood is a collection of mostly passive and seemingly unimportant moments in a child’s life, as he grows up and his worldview is shaped. Yet, Boyhood was the best-reviewed film of 2014 and is the likeliest to become the next Best Picture winner.
Birdman is a very different beast. A carefully scripted and choreographed explosion of emotions, both repressed and expressed on screen. A jazzy, dreamy caricature of show business. A strange and deeply confounding film, it is made to look like a single, continuous shot, as we follow an aging movie star’s descent into hell and back. It is, in my humble opinion, the most deserving of the two, but it may prove too much for the Academy voters. I feel they might prefer the calm, contemplative Boyhood to such a relentless, furious roller-coaster.
Best Director
The showdown between Boyhood and Birdman continues in this category. It could be the third consecutive year when the Best Director award doesn’t go to the Best Picture winner. It has become a trend to reward the most visually ambitious nominee for its visionary directing and this year, it is Iñarritu’s Birdman that fits the description. Filmed in very long, audaciously constructed shots that require uninterrupted acting and movement, it envelops you, and watching it, you feel like you’ve landed on the stage of a play. An exceptionally well-directed play, I might add.
Best Actor in a Leading Role
Much like his character in Birdman, ex-superhero Michael Keaton has made a glorious comeback after a decade of near-oblivion. His character is seen battling family and career issues, as well as a perfidious alter ego who attempts to lead him astray, back on the path of commercial moviedom. There are several references to Keaton’s own life throughout the film, but he claims this is the character he could least identify with, out of any he has played. It is a challenging role, and Keaton gave it his all. He deserves to win.
Best Actress in a Leading Role
There is little doubt as to what name will come out of that particular envelope : Julianne Moore, sometimes called “the Meryl Streep of not winning Oscars”. Nominated 4 times before, hers is a classic case of overdue. Her performance in Still Alice as an Alzheimer’s-afflicted linguist is as stellar as you’d expect. She hits all the right notes, showing the changes her character goes through with subtlety and flair.
In a perfect world, however, it is Rosamund Pike who would get the gold for her sensational breakthrough performance in Gone Girl. Rivaling every great psycho in the history of film, her character is terrifying because she is deeply unknowable. What is she really thinking? How far can she go? The movie opens and closes with the same shot of her, and by the end we understand more about her, but overall she remains a mystery. It is hard to say more without spoiling anything; if you haven’t seen Gone Girl yet, you absolutely should.
Best Actor in a Supporting Role
There can be no doubt – J.K. Simmons will win. He has always been good, for example as Spider-Man’s scene-stealing editor in Sam Raimi’s franchise, but in Whiplash, he is simply too good to ignore. This is an award often given for villainous performances, and Simmons’ character is a masterclass in cruelty and emotional abuse. As a teacher in a prestigious music conservatory, he is a shapeshifter, sometimes deceivingly flattering, at other times a violent despot – all in the name of art. Simmons is chilling and unforgettable as he commands the screen with an iron hand. If this isn’t an Oscar-worthy performance, I don’t know what is.
Best Actress in a Supporting Role
The first name that comes to mind is Patricia Arquette. Unlikely that she would be considered an Oscar frontrunner in 2015, but she can thank Boyhood for that. She was still a popular star in 2002 when filming started, but soon after that she began to take years off in between films and eventually focused on television. Now, fast-forward to 2015, and she is once again on everyone’s lips. In many ways, watching Boyhood is like opening a time capsule – her performance is one of the many good things we found inside.
Best Original Screenplay
The Grand Budapest Hotel is one of the year’s best-written films. Hard to say whether it is original—what is these days?—and it was admittedly inspired by Stefan Zweig’s works, but it is insanely clever and deeply rewarding. It has the usual traits of a Wes Anderson screenplay: bright characters, witty dialogue, and an engrossing and hilariously complicated story. But it also covers new and surprisingly dark territory: shoot-outs, gruesome murders and mutilations, and dead cats. All of that portrayed with Anderson’s trademark childlike innocence. It is also immensely tender in recounting a love story and a friendship, as well as Anderson’s love for an era, a writing style, and a time lost. The key to the film is in this line, “To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ever entered it—but, I will say: he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvellous grace!”
Another possible winner is Birdman, which is also well-written. So much happens every second that it is an action movie in terms of intensity. It makes you fall in love with movies again. It makes you marvel, laugh, spit out your popcorn in surprise, or hold very still when someone’s life is in the balance. All of this may sound like a given but how often does that happen to you anymore? How often do you feel that there are no boundaries to what could happen on the screen? When was the last time you truly felt a film’s heartbeat? The Grand Budapest Hotel deserves to win, but if Birdman does, I’m sure there will be no hard feelings.
Best Adapted Screenplay
Now let’s come back to the most Oscar-ish movie on the list—The Imitation Game. I call it that for two reasons. First, it follows a formula made popular by past Oscar winner A Beautiful Mind: real-life eccentric mathematician deals with personal problems and espionage, real or imagined. Second, it is an “important issue” movie, showing a true story of persecution. It is fairly well-written, but perhaps too traditional in its storytelling. It brings up interesting questions, but doesn’t know how to deal with them because the screenwriter is limited by Hollywood conventions. Yet the movie will probably win, because it is undeniably a story that needed to be told.
The one that should win, but perhaps won’t, is Whiplash. It is competing in the Adapted Screenplay category because it is based on a short film made by the director in order to get financing, but apart from that, it is wholly original. An intricate psychological drama, or a musical thriller, it explores the pursuit of greatness. As a student, what sacrifices are you willing to make? As a teacher, should you be allowed to do just about anything it takes to unlock a student’s potential? We never get to know the characters very well and there’s no need to, because the moral dilemmas posed by the movie are universal, as is the battle of wills at its core. Whiplash is written with gusto, and its final sequence is all-time great material.
Let’s not forget to congratulate our fellow Canadians and Montrealers nominated for Oscars this year! In animation, Dean DeBlois from Aylmer, Quebec, nominated for directing How to Train Your Dragon 2; Graham Annable from Ontario, nominated for co-directing The Boxtrolls; Torill Kove, who was born in Norway but has lived in Montreal since 1982, a Concordia graduate, nominated for her short animated film Me and My Moulton; in visual effects, Cameron Waldbauer and Nicolas Aithadi from the Vancouver area, nominated for X-Men: Days of Future Past and Guardians of the Galaxy, respectively; in production design, Dennis Gassner from Vancouver, nominated for Into the Woods and presently hard at work on the new James Bond film; in sound mixing, Craig Mann from Ontario, nominated for his electrifying work on Whiplash.
Another year in movies is now officially past us. As always, there were casualties—Robin Williams, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and many others. It seems impossible to imagine the movies without them but, somehow, things will go on. Let them never be over.
Take a look back at the best of 2014 in film by tuning in to the 87th Oscars ceremony, hosted by Neil Patrick Harris!
The High Note is a web-series about a lovable yet not so talented group of friends trying to make it as a band, and failing at it.
They don’t have much talent, good ideas or even a band name, but that’s what makes them so funny
“The music, man. It’s time to get serious about the music.” So starts The High Note, a not-so-serious new web-series that centers on five young Montrealers who decide to unite their efforts and form a band. Most of their time together is spent drinking and trying to determine a band name, going through suggestions such as Grass Grass, or Reverse Centaur, which comes up three times. Their talent is limited, ideas preposterous and attitude far from winning, but that’s what makes them entertaining to watch. Characters who are unaware that they’re losers are an eternal feeding ground for comedy writers.
The High Note is a web-series about a lovable yet not so talented group of friends trying to make it as a band, and failing at it.
There’s Neil, an ex-ice skater whose only shot at fame was starring in a production of Barbie on Ice: The Magic of Pegasus; Sage, a wannabe who can’t settle on a style, yet claims to be a trendsetter; Dani, an enthusiastic outsider who doesn’t have much to contribute besides epileptic dance moves; and Mel, who joined the group looking for a release for anger, but doesn’t seem to have any. Other characters will be introduced in the course of the six-episode series, most certainly as awkward or obnoxious as the rest.
The people we see are believable, because the actors believe in their characters. When we do hear their music, what’s surprising is how tolerable it actually is. The High Note could have been a slapstick comedy routine about people who are just plain bad at what they do, but it is more nuanced. It doesn’t go for easy laughs, settling for a deadpan kind of humour and atmosphere inspired by TV series such as The Office.
It could also fit in the mockumentary category, showing naturalistic scenes of dialogue intermixed with interviews of main characters. Much of it feels spontaneous, unrehearsed, but the series was scripted and shot in several takes. The tone, sound effects and editing style are often dissonant, as they should be, because this is a story of things not working out and it must be felt throughout.
This is a first web-series for director Holly Brace-Lavoie and producer Kelly Walker, who have a background in theatre. It was shot over the summer with a voluntary cast and crew, and is fully self-financed. Asked how such a show would fare commercially, Brace-Lavoie and Walker burst out laughing. “We’re not expecting to break even. This is purely for fun.” In fact, all involved seemed to have had a great time working on the project, which showcases a lively dynamic. The High Note has a charming and fun-loving quality that’s hard to resist.
Unsurprisingly, the show is also semi-autobiographical, and while the whole thing is slightly over-the-top, you may recognize yourself or others in it. Brace-Lavoie suggests that the series was made as a therapy of sorts. It never hurts to poke fun at yourself, like when you take a pause in the middle of a sentence and start laughing because you realize you’re not making any sense.
Episode 1 of The High Note web-series launches online on Nov. 5, on thehighnoteseries.com.
Concordia graduate’s metaphysical short movie will make you wonder what is going on
Kickstarter has been a massive help to independent filmmakers worldwide. The funding platform, designed to connect entrepreneurs to a potential clientele, has brought crowdfunding to its full potential. Got an original vision, massive willpower and force of conviction? Then head over to the website and try your luck. That worked out pretty well for Colin L. Racicot, a Concordia graduate who has been able to finance Beauty, his fifth short-length film.
Racicot is the director, writer, co-producer and editor of the 24-minute mystery story, which will start playing at international festivals later this month. The story is a bit too abstract or “metaphysical,” as the director put it, to describe. An emotionally distant bourgeois man starts to obsess over strange visions after visiting a secret floor at his workplace. His married and professional life are then deeply affected by this change.
Racicot cited science-fiction directors, such as Ridley Scott and Christopher Nolan, as his inspiration, and visually it shows. The editing is elaborate throughout, especially in the opening credits sequence. The colour palette, composed of mostly metallics, dark blue and orange, gives the film a mysterious and increasingly claustrophobic aura. Many shots of buildings and glass structures are narratively irrelevant, but stylistically vital.
Is Beauty worth your time? Maybe. A lot of it comes down to personal taste, and while Racicot should be lauded for his qualities as an editor and stylist, his film is decidedly uneven.
It would have benefitted from a sense of place. Montrealers will recognize that Beauty is set in their city, yet it is never used as an asset. 2006’s Paris, je t’aime featured several stories with themes comparable to Beauty, and the use of the city elevated the stories immensely. Perhaps Racicot’s intention was to have his story set inside the main character’s mind, therefore excluding all possible distraction, but that is somewhat ungenerous towards the viewer.
Daniel Brochu, a voice-actor known for his role as Buster Baxter in the Arthur cartoon series, plays the main character in an intense way that is not echoed by his two co-stars. This contributes to the feeling of emotional isolation, but also lessens the viewer’s connection with the character. The dinner scene that opens the film is tonally out of place and several other scenes unnecessarily stretch the running time.
The conclusion of the film feels calculated, breaking the spontaneity that preceded it. After 20 minutes of uncertainty and mystery, it suddenly loses its special touch and becomes just another one of “that kind of movie.” Which is not to say that Beauty is entirely without interest. Like a cold metal surface, it is smooth to the touch, but ultimately distancing. There are many images of broken glass, but never any blood. That’s what Beauty ultimately lacks: a sign of life.
Hailed as the “best film of the year” by Quentin Tarantino, Big Bad Wolves is the follow up to Rabies, also directed by Keshales and Papushado.
Violent and graphic, Israeli horror-thriller, Big Bad Wolves isn’t a typical fairytale
Big Bad Wolves never really lives up to its opening scene, which serves as a beautiful introduction to a darkly tongue-in-cheek tale of revenge.
The camera follows three children, a boy and two girls, playing hide-and-seek in slow-motion. They run, first in a forest, then in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. The accompanying music seems to indicate that the game won’t end well. In fact, one of the girls decides to hide in a closet; the next time it is opened, all that’s left of her is one red shoe.
Hailed as the “best film of the year” by Quentin Tarantino, Big Bad Wolves is the follow up to Rabies, also directed by Keshales and Papushado.
We learn that a child molester is at large, and that this is one of many recent kidnappings that have ended in murder. Someone sedates the children, abuses them, tortures them, beheads them and hides the heads so that their parents can’t even bury them in accordance with Jewish law, which requires corpses to be intact — nothing too uplifting.
The cop appointed to the case is Micki (Lior Ashkenazi), a sarcastic and unscrupulous man who doesn’t see a problem with resorting to violence when questioning the prime suspect, Dror (Rotem Keinan), who is a school teacher. He tries to beat a confession out of him, but fails. A boy wanders upon the scene and films the interrogation on his cellphone.
The boy then does what any modern kid would do — he uploads the footage on YouTube, and it predictably goes viral. Both men get in trouble with their superiors — Micki for being a bad cop, and Dror because being a suspected child murderer doesn’t do much to improve the school’s reputation. They end up getting suspended from their respective jobs.
But this is only the setup for the major storyline, which involves Gidi (Tzahi Grad), the father of the latest victim, going on a quest to reclaim his daughter’s head and get revenge on the murderer. He buys a house in the woods, tests it for being scream-proof, and kidnaps Dror for torture purposes. Micki also ends up there, because the plot requires it.
What we have here is a mix of grindhouse horror and black comedy. There are also elements of Jewish humour, like when Gidi keeps getting interrupted by phone calls and visits from his parents just as he’s about to take the next step in torturing his daughter’s alleged killer.
Oftentimes, you may find the humour inappropriate. The directors, Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado, take a mostly light-hearted approach to very dramatic material. Is it really necessary for Micki to wisecrack when the headless, mutilated body of a child is found?
Some twists are clever, others are run-of-the-mill, but still, the movie manages to create suspense in a story that is not of the most original kind. What makes it work is the fairy-tale aspect of it. If you were unlucky enough to have read Grimm Brothers’ stories as a child — the original ones, not child-friendly versions — the feeling of dread evoked by this film will be familiar to you. Everything is stylized to appeal to the darkest corners of your imagination.
Big Bad Wolves is set in Israel, but it could be set anywhere, because where it really takes place is the movie universe. The story, characters and situations are not realistic, nor are they meant to be. How else to explain a Palestinian cowboy? The directors have borrowed cues from various sources and created an odd, stylish amalgam of genres and tones. No wonder it was praised by Tarantino himself.
Big Bad Wolves will be out on DVD and Blu-Ray on April 22.
Starring Orson Welles, Mick Jagger, David Carradine and Salvador Dali, and featuring music by Pink Floyd, Jodorowsky’s adaptation of Frank Herbert’s classic sci-fi novel Dune was poised to change cinema forever. Photo courtesy of Sony Picture Classics.
Jodorowsky’s Dune is the story of the famed director’s adaptation of the sci-fi novel
Alejandro Jodorowsky is one of those names you have to know if you want to be taken seriously as a film buff. El Topo, The Holy Mountain and Santa Sangre are some of the movies he’s made.
Dune is a movie he never made, but it was nonetheless just as influential. Every other filmmaker has a story to share about a particular pet project that never came to fruition, but Jodorowsky is different. There is reason to believe that his version of Dune would have literally changed the world. In fact, it has been a source of inspiration to a whole generation of filmmakers, on the strength of its concept and storyboard alone.
Starring Orson Welles, Mick Jagger, David Carradine and Salvador Dali, and featuring music by Pink Floyd, Jodorowsky’s adaptation of Frank Herbert’s classic sci-fi novel Dune was poised to change cinema forever. Photo courtesy of Sony Picture Classics.
‘Best movie never made’ is a much-coveted title and Jodorowsky’s Dune, directed by Frank Pavich, is a documentary about the prime candidate. You walk into it doubtful and hesitant, prepared to see a film essentially about failure. But it takes you by surprise — what you get is a fun, exciting look at the creative process.
As the movie begins, you already know the outcome — Dune, which was worked on in the mid-70s, never went past pre-production. Yet, the interviews with people who worked on the project are so apt at reconstructing the timeline of events and the ecstasy of creation that you’ll find yourself hoping for a different outcome than is possible.
Understandably, most of the film is centered around Jodorowsky. At 84, he is as alive and open-minded as ever. The Chilean surrealist started the cult cinema movement with El Topo in 1970, and indeed he sounds like a cult leader. Irrepressibly passionate, inspiring and talkative, he speaks of his failed Dune in often religious terms — his aim was not to make a movie, he says, but to “create a prophet,” aided by his team of “spiritual warriors.”
When he confides that he was ready to die for his film, you believe him.
It is thrilling to hear of his adventures in assembling an international crew, and then to meet those people, some of whom could be Jodorowsky characters in their own right. Take, for example, the interview with H.R. Giger, a Swiss painter who was going to work as a production designer on Dune. His guttural voice resonates loud in the dark, eerie room in which he is filmed, and suddenly you realize — he would have made an excellent villain.
Dune didn’t work out for lack of budget, but during pre-production, Giger met Dan O’Bannon, a special effects artist with whom he would go on to create a little franchise called Alien.
You would expect Jodorowsky to feel anger at the fact that his dream project had been trumped upon, his movie cancelled, and his hopes reduced to nothing. For a few scenes, he does, but he is so obviously above it. He understands that from a rotting body flowers shall grow, and he recognizes his work in many modern science-fiction epics with gratitude and pride.
Jodorowsky’s Dune also addresses the fact that a movie based on Frank Herbert’s novel of the same name did, eventually, get made. The David Lynch version was a commercial and critical disaster, to the point where Lynch still refuses to discuss it to this day. Jodorowsky describes going into that movie, and his reaction to seeing it is beautifully human.
This documentary is the closest we’ll ever come to seeing Jodorowsky’s vision of Dune. His film never was, and never will be. His ideas, which predated today’s blockbusters by decades, have since become too commonplace to spark an artistic revolution like the one he had envisioned.
Many of his prospective actors have since died — he wanted no less than Salvador Dali and Orson Welles in supporting roles. But Jodorowsky’s main goal was to inspire, to encourage young artists to realize their dreams — and Pavich’s documentary does just that.
Jodorowsky’s Dune opens April 4 at Cinema du Parc.
Comprising two volumes, Nymph()maniac stars Charlotte Gainsbourg, Stellan Skarsgård, Shia Labeouf, and Uma Thurman. Photo by Christian Geisnaes/Zentropa
The much-anticipated Nymph()maniac is the explicit story of a sex-addict
The least you could say about Nymph()maniac is that it isn’t boring. It is also extremely hard to watch, but then, it’s made by Lars von Trier, which should tell you something about its nature. Political correctness is a foreign notion to the provocateur extraordinaire, who has been described by at least one of his actors as a “dangerous” man.
Comprising two volumes, Nymph()maniac stars Charlotte Gainsbourg, Stellan Skarsgård, Shia Labeouf, and Uma Thurman. Photo by Christian Geisnaes/Zentropa
Von Trier is one with a twisted sense of humour, although you can never be sure if he’s joking. Three years ago, during an interview for his previous film, Melancholia, he pointed at his two stars and declared: “My next film is a porn film with those two.” They laughed. The interviewer laughed. The audiences laughed. And then, von Trier went ahead and made the film.
Nymph()maniac, the conclusive title in the Danish director’s Depression Trilogy, has been divided into two volumes, each two hours long. The story itself is fragmented into eight chapters, one of them made in black-and-white. Charlotte Gainsbourg, who plays the main character, has starred in a total of four von Trier films, from which one might conclude that she enjoys physical and emotional distress.
That makes her a suitable choice for the role of Joe, a hopeless sex-addict who, at the beginning of Volume One, is found unconscious in a deserted alleyway by a caring middle-aged man out on an evening walk. He brings her back to consciousness and takes her home with him. He is appalled that a woman would get treated the way she did — she seems to have been severely beaten up, her face all bloodied and bruise-laden.
Joe thinks otherwise. She believes the beating was well-deserved; “I’m a bad human being,” is one of the first things she says. Her benefactor begs for an explanation, and that’s how the story gets started. The two films give an account of Joe’s life and addiction, told in her own words.
Some of it you’d wish wasn’t told in her own words. Joe speaks her mind with a disarming openness, casually making use of questionable language. Her host introduces himself as Seligman (“What a fucking ridiculous name”). He listens with interest as she rambles about her “cold bitch” of a mother, her polymorphous perversity (“I discovered my cunt at two years old”), her early experiences with sex (she loses her virginity at age 15), and later ones, all which grow increasingly harrowing. The timeline takes us back and forth between past and present, as causes and consequences are exposed.
The story takes place in an unnamed European city which is, judging by some accents, likely to be situated in the UK. The reason why it’s hard to tell is because very little context is given — we barely ever see any exterior shots. Most of the first film takes place behind closed doors, in bedrooms especially. The main action consists in the conversation between Joe and Seligman (played by Stellan Skarsgård), which shapes the structure of the films and takes place over the course of a whole night. Imagine 1001 Nights as a bleak sexual fantasy and you might get an idea of what to expect.
Skarsgård and Gainsbourg have an interesting chemistry together. Their characters are polar opposites: she is a nymphomaniac, he is by his own admission an asexual virgin. She tells a story, he comments on it using his vast cultural knowledge, which covers all topics except sex. He brings interesting and often amusing insights to the table, finding analogies between Joe’s story and music, literature, even fishing.
However, the conversation often tends to get overly rhetorical. You lose the sense that these are two living people: they become more like one-dimensional mouthpieces for the ideas von Trier wants to communicate. Some of these have no place in Nymph()maniac. For instance, Seligman says he is an anti-Zionist (“which is not the same as being anti-Semitic, despite what some people would have you believe.”) for no other reason than that von Trier has taken a vow of silence after famously getting into trouble for claiming he was a Nazi, and is now expressing himself through his characters.
Another way the movie falters is by its casting. Having different actors play the same characters is a hard trick to pull off. In Volume One, the younger Joe and her first lover Jerome are played by Stacy Martin and Shia Labeouf (in a very unexpected role). In Volume Two, they are played by Gainsbourg and Michael Pas. When the switch happens, you’re immediately pulled out of the story, and keep wondering whether you’re really watching the same characters, especially given that some of their behaviour also goes through a change.
Nymph()maniac is set apart first of all by its content, but also by its style. Von Trier uses shaky-cam, low-key acting and non-simulated sexual intercourse — which comes off as too much of a gimmick — and in Volume One that feels distracting. However, if you watch both volumes in one sitting, you might notice that by the time Volume Two has started, you’ve grown more comfortable with the rules set up by the director in the cinematic world he’s created, and are more able to appreciate the story for what it’s worth. Of the film, Skarsgård has said, “After a while, a penis entering an orifice is as natural as food entering your mouth”, and he’s right.
Volume Two also features much more violence. Be warned, there are scenes of a sadomasochist nature, and they look and feel authentic. One can only hope they’re not. Jamie Bell stars as some kind of a shady pain-therapist. He’s maddeningly calm and methodical in his ‘work’. He knows exactly what he wants, and he gets it without losing his temper. We have preconceived notions of what a sadist must look and behave like, and Bell’s character is none of these things. It is a quietly horrifying performance, light-years away from his breakthrough role as Billy Elliot in 2000.
So are Lars von Trier’s latest two films pornographic? Let’s look at Merriam-Webster’s definition of the term. The definition starts with saying that “movies, pictures, magazines, etc., that show or describe naked people or sex in a very open and direct way” are pornography, which applies to Nymph()maniac. But then, the goal of pornography is “to cause sexual excitement,” which doesn’t apply as much.
The two movies are unthinkably explicit. You could say that the movies contain sex, but it would be more accurate to say that the sex contains the movies. There, you have every variety of it, and this is the censored version. One can only guess what must have been left on the cutting-room floor. Sex is instrumental in telling this story, but is it meant to arouse its audience? The two films are dark, disturbing and fittingly depressing. It’s hard to imagine anyone getting off on them.
Yet Nymph()maniac has its share of pleasures. There are moments of absolute and much needed hilarity, like a scene-stealing performance by Uma Thurman as a heartbroken woman whose husband has mistaken Joe’s sexual lust for love and decided to move in with her. Thurman’s character impulsively decides to take her sons on a visit to their father’s newly adopted habitat and shows them the “whoring bed”.
The editing of both movies is ingenious. There’s a sense of liberation from formulaic narrative structures that makes Nymph()maniac feel like a satanic rendition of a Terrence Malick film. In 2011, Malick and von Trier both had films at the Cannes Film Festival: the former made The Tree of Life, which shows the creation of Earth, and the latter made Melancholia, about its destruction. Both directors make use of religious undertones, classical music, and roaming camera moves. Their styles are not that distant, but their worldviews — irreconcilable. Malick offers hope, von Trier only cynicism. To each his own.
Nymph()maniac opens in theatres nationwide on March 21.
Winner at Cannes’ Critics Week, The Lunchbox, connects two lonely people with a lot on their mind.
Winner at Cannes’ Critics Week, The Lunchbox, connects two lonely people with a lot on their mind
You will hear the word ‘Bollywood’ applied to this movie, which is all sorts of wrong. No, there are no eye-rolling dances, no corny music and no eccentric twists and turns. The Lunchbox couldn’t have come from Bollywood and it couldn’t have come from Hollywood as it is today. Instead, it comes, like all great films do, from the heart. First-time writer-director Ritesh Batra has made a great Indian film.
After a food delivery mix up, Ila (Nimrat Kaur, Peddlers) and Saajan’s (Irrfan Khan, Life of Pi, The Darjeeling Limited) love story unfolds, as told to us through a series of letters. Photos courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.
This is a movie that looks like a romantic comedy, starts out like a piece of neo-realism and ends up being a real treasure — an insightful character study. You walk into it, and you expect it to raise questions like “What will she wear on their first date?” Would you believe it instead goes for “What do we live for?”
The main characters are two lonely souls in an overpopulated city. She is Ila (Nimrat Kaur), a housewife dreaming of a better life, more space to breathe, a husband whose shirts wouldn’t reek of other women’s perfumes and a more rewarding relationship with her parents. He is Saajan (Irrfan Khan), a quiet, recently widowed accountant with only retirement to look forward to.
The two people are unconnected. But then, Ila sends lunch to her husband through the famous Dabbawala service — this lunchbox and dozens more are carried through busy streets by bike, two trains, foot and a strolling cart. Finally, the lunchbox lands on Saajan’s desk, in a governmental building. He contemplates it with cold curiosity, opens the cans and proceeds to eat the curry contained inside.
The lunchbox goes back empty. Ila is overjoyed: “He licked it clean!” Yes, someone licked the cans clean, but who? From the way her husband compliments her on an entirely different dish, Ila realizes her curry must have gone to the wrong address. Auntie, her upper floor neighbour who she communicates with mainly by screaming out the window, is adamant: “The delivery man never made a mistake before.”
Well, he has now, and Ila reacts to it in an unexpected manner: she goes with it. The next day, she sends the lunchbox with a small note. Saajan writes back, and a steady correspondence begins. They are both wise, intelligent and well-spoken. It is always wonderful when people like that find each other, against all odds. They have lived through things and have stories to share. Most of them are gripping. Ila and Saajan grow from contact with each other.
The strength of a film always depends on the strength of its actors, and the two leads deliver. You’ve seen Irrfan Khan in such movies as The Amazing Spider-Man and Life of Pi. He’s a skilled actor, but possibly the last you’d imagine in a romantic film. Yet, he makes it work by showing a man hardened, but vulnerable. As for his co-star, it’s doubtful that you’ve seen Nimrat Kaur anywhere, or that you’ve heard her name before, but you just might hear it again. She provides the film with its best dramatic elements. The letters might have been written, but to us, the audience, they are read. Kaur shows a mastery of voice acting — now that’s talent. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous, which helps.
There are many laughs to be had, most of them involving Shaikh (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), an odd-mannered apprentice desperate for Saajan’s mentorship.
Otherwise, the film keeps a serious tone, and takes its time with the story. You may find it slow. You’ll be thankful for it, too — these are characters you want to spend time with. By corresponding, they seek the same thing as we do when we go to the movies — an escape from a seemingly inevitable routine. Their letters open a window into a different world.
Sometimes, another perspective is all you need, and this movie has perspective a-plenty.
The Lunchbox opens in theatres, with subtitles in English and French, on March 21.
Not many are familiar with Jiro Horikoshi, but odds are you’ve at least heard of some of his creations — he designed the Zero planes used in the attack on Pearl Harbor. He is also the unlikely subject of a new animated biopic, The Wind Rises, which chronicles his life from his early childhood to the lift-off of the infamous warplanes.
Miyazaki claims that the Studio Ghibli-produced anime, The Wind Rises, will be his last filmmaking adventure. Photo is a still from YouTube.
Some of it is fictional, although it hardly matters. The film shows the man consumed with passion for his work. When his employers learn that he has a fiancée, they burst out laughing — they had assumed he would marry an aircraft.
But working is not all he does. We see him travelling to various regions of Japan as well as pre-WW2 Germany. We see him in love with a young girl he saves during the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 and later meets as a grown woman. But above all, we see him dreaming. The movie opens and closes with him in a world of his own, where behemoth airplanes fill the skies and where he can interact with real-life aircraft designer Giovanni Caproni, a mentor he never had a chance to know.
The film is intrinsically poetic — the title itself comes from a Paul Valéry poem, which goes: “The wind is rising, we must try to live.” The line becomes a leitmotiv, repeated several times in the course of the story, in different languages, by different people.
The images are just as wondrous: the colours vivid, the planes highly detailed and the dream sequences full of fantasy and life. There are scenes of great intensity, disasters both natural and man-caused.
It is, however, in the quieter moments that the film truly soars. A scene in which the protagonist sends paper planes to his beloved is among the most memorable.
Not all animation is meant for children, and The Wind Rises has been the subject of a controversy. How ethical is it to celebrate a man whose work has caused death and ruin? This issue is addressed in one of Horikoshi’s imaginary conversations with Caproni. The Italian engineer believes that aircrafts hold no moral value — he calls them “beautiful cursed dreams, waiting to be swallowed up by the sky.” This is an interesting insight, and it holds a sad truth. Horikoshi’s talent is both a blessing and a curse. His tragedy lies in accepting that his art might be used as a tool of war.
We owe this little marvel of animation to a man who needs no introduction. Hayao Miyazaki has earned himself a place in the history of film with such masterpieces as Spirited Away, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind and Castle in the Sky. If you’ve paid attention, you’ve noticed all of his movies deal with flying. While this film is more realistic and straightforward than most, it is nonetheless magical to see Horikoshi’s creations take off. He seems to make them out of thin air, using only his audacity and power of imagination. Much like Miyazaki himself.
This is said to be the master animator’s last film. It’s not the first time he has vowed to quit, but the first time he’s been taken seriously. Thus, The Wind Rises is an unmissable experience, bound to leave you heavy-hearted but admirative. Rumors are circulating that he might be changing his mind again. Perhaps he has one more dream to share. Perhaps he can still feel the wind rising.
The Wind Rises is currently in theatres nationwide.
Ready or not, the film industry is about to call it a year. It’s Oscar time again this Sunday evening. Millions of people around the world will be glued to their TVs, laptops or
Graphic Jenny Kwan
smartphones on that fateful evening, in sheer anticipation of the results. A few lucky ones will see the event live and maybe even get a share of the gold.
Some people are quick to dismiss the Oscars as just a show, and the awards as a popularity contest. The truth is that the Academy is undergoing a period of serious transition. In only a few years, we’ve seen a woman win a Best Director award, more ethnical groups represented than ever before and people seemingly destined for a life of anonymity pulled out of their ordinary lives by well-deserved nominations. Such change is unprecedented. You may not always agree with the Academy members’ choices, but the Oscars do matter — and they’re not all about movies.
Although, let’s be honest, it’s much more fun to talk about the movies — and which of the nominees stand a good chance of winning.
Best Picture
This is the award that’s on most people’s minds — the one that’ll make it into the history books. There are nine nominees this year, all of them strong contenders. It’s a win-win situation for the audience — there are no obvious stinkers on the ballot, so any possible laureate will be applauded and celebrated. However, since all of the nominees are very close in terms of overall quality, there is also, unlike last year with Argo, no clearly marked leader to rally behind.
Three movies have generated the most buzz, and are therefore considered frontrunners.
The first of these would be an obvious choice for the Academy — 12 Years a Slave is daring and essential. Slavery is still a touchy subject for Americans, and it rarely ever gets the cinematic treatment it deserves. Yet, this is not the Schindler’s List-style masterpiece most were waiting for. It has its flaws and poses an unsolvable problem — if it wins, naysayers will claim it an overly political move; if it loses, supporters will blame it on bias.
This is why two other, less problematic contenders are also to be considered. Gravity is this year’s special effects extravaganza with a brain, ala Life of Pi. It takes risks and pulls off a unique, moving and memorable spectacle.
Finally, the dark horse is American Hustle — it is charming, fast-moving and offers a curious blend of drama and comedy, which writer-director David O. Russell is becoming expert at.
One of these three movies is bound to take the gold. They may not ultimately be remembered as the best of 2013, but they all accomplish something new and are well worthy of your attention.
Best Director
Wait, what’s the difference between producers and directors? Oh, that’s right, the producer is in charge of funding and distribution, whereas the director decides on the artistic choices that can make or break a movie. Now that this is out of the way, it must be said that the main contenders for Best Picture and Best Director are still often one and the same. Usually, the same film wins both, but ever so often, a split can happen.
Last year, we had a similar scenario, where a visually majestic film (Life of Pi) ran against an important drama/thriller (Argo). This is the Academy’s chance to honour both at once, by giving them separate, almost equally prestigious awards. Likewise, this year we may see 12 Years a Slave win Best Picture, and Gravity’s Alfonso Cuarón get lauded for his accomplishments as a visionary director.
Best Actor in a Leading Role
Boy, has Matthew McConaughey gone a long way since the abysmal Failure to Launch. In 2013, he had three movies in theaters, and all three of his performances were worthy of Oscar consideration. The Academy went with Dallas Buyers Club, in which he plays Ron Woodroof, a real-life hustler who became an unlikely hero by defying the unjust Food and Drug Administration and fighting for the rights of AIDS patients. McConaughey fully inhabits his character and plays him in a transformative, nuanced way that never paints him as a true hero. It’s a great performance, and he should win.
Then again, Leonardo DiCaprio is also dazzling as a depraved fraudster in Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street. Much has been said on DiCaprio’s seeming inability to score an Oscar, and he does seem to have been cruelly overlooked on several occasions. He is funny, iron-willed and inventive in Scorsese’s latest, but odds are that the Oscar will elude him once more.
Best Actress in a Leading Role
Controversy surrounding stars has an odd way of erupting right in the middle of Oscar season. This month, Woody Allen’s adopted daughter, Dylan, published an open letter accusing the well-known director of sexual abuse. Cate Blanchett starred in Allen’s latest film, Blue Jasmine, and she was masterful in portraying an utterly confused and neurotic has-been socialite. Now, she is being accused of guilt by association for working with a director under close scrutiny for a serious crime. Will Academy members be able to overlook the scandal and vote for the contender they feel is the best? Let’s hope so, because Blanchett is an actress at the height of her powers and worth rewarding for her breathtaking new turn.
As an alternative, let’s consider Sandra Bullock, who pulled off a one-woman show in Gravity as an astronaut stranded in space and fighting for survival. Most would agree — this is one of her best roles. She won an Oscar four years ago for The Blind Side, and is even more deserving this time around.
Best Actor in a Supporting Role
Jared Leto, known to most as the lead singer of 30 Seconds to Mars, has also lead a surprisingly diverse and consistent career as a screen actor. He’s been an overweight psycho in Chapter 27, a drug addict in Requiem for a Dream and now he stars as an AIDS-riddled transvestite in Dallas Buyers Club. It’s a likeable, if overrated, performance and the physical transformation that Leto underwent for the role makes him a top contender.
It is, however, Jonah Hill who deserves the spotlight for his unexpectedly terrific part in The Wolf of Wall Street. His odd, ambitious, at turns hilarious and sickening incarnation of greed is one of the major assets of the movie. He’s never been better, not even in Moneyball, which earned him his first Oscar nomination. In that movie, he had to trade in his sense of humour for bureaucratic drama. This time, he makes it part of his character, and leaves a truly lasting impression.
Best Actress in a Supporting Role
This is perhaps the most unpredictable field. It is certainly wide open this year — the win can come from anywhere. Will it be Jennifer Lawrence, who won just last year for Silver Linings Playbook and has now given an equally strong performance in American Hustle? Perhaps so. She is certainly the most deserving one. Could lightning strike twice? Lawrence is one of Hollywood’s brightest, most irreverent new talents, and even if she ends up losing, she seems destined to become an Oscars regular.
But let’s not forget Lupita Nyong’o, who played a brutalized cotton-picker in 12 Years a Slave. Her character felt so genuine, people are still wrapping their heads around the fact that it is her debut performance. It is always a challenge to weigh in on these because it is hard to estimate how much work went into the role and how versatile the actress may prove to be in the future.
Best Original Screenplay
Originality in mainstream filmmaking is slowly dying away, and so Spike Jonze’s Her is in a league all of its own, a remnant of a more glorious past. Jonze, who also wrote the movie, has learned a lot from his collaborations with master screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation). Her, just like the American auteur’s other works, is at once deeply personal and strangely universal. In imagining a romance between a man and his portable device, Jonze examines not only the loneliness and confusion of adult life, but also the very essence of love. His script offers a fresh perspective and an Oscar win would mean a victory for film lovers everywhere.
Following closely behind is American Hustle, which tells an entertaining and well-written story. If the movie wins Best Picture, an award for its screenplay should be no challenge to get. Its many characters are given distinct, fully developed personalities, so that we feel surrounded by people and not marionettes. While it takes a few liberties from the true events that inspired it (“Some of this actually happened” is the tagline), the plot is layered and well-dosed in both humour and drama. What hurts its chances is the amount of improvisation that was required from the actors to help shape the dialogues and the final structure of the film. It must be remembered that what was written on paper does not always wind up on screen, and so a screenplay is a totally different beast.
Best Adapted Screenplay
Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy is one of the most beloved of all times. It started in 1995 with Before Sunrise. The plot was simple, inspired by a real event in the writer’s life: two strangers, an American man and a French woman, meet on a train in Vienna and spend a night conversing on all possible subjects, falling in love in the process. Their story is seemingly hopeless; they must leave by train the next morning, going their separate ways. They promise to get in touch, but a sadness lingers in the air, telling them it is not to happen.
Yet, two other chapters followed, each one set nine years into the future. In 2004’s Before Sunset, they meet again in Paris, and realize they are still very much in love. In 2013’s Before Midnight, likely the last of the series, they are married with children. They spend a summer in Greece, coming to terms with the fact that all things age and that nothing is eternal, not even love.
Rewarding the ambition and thoughtfulness of Before Midnight would be a great way to celebrate the trilogy, but 12 Years a Slave could end up winning if the Academy members decide to rally behind the compelling John Ridley-penned drama instead. The film, as you may have heard, chronicles twelve years in the life of a 19th century man kidnapped into slavery. Showing humanity at its low points, it is difficult and disturbing to sit through, but it is a history lesson not to be overlooked. Times have changed and dreams have come true as nowadays, African-American actors and filmmakers are being judged not by the colour of their skin, but by their value as artists and creators. Just ask Cheryl Boone Isaacs, the newly-elected first black president of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Science.
As a side note, have you noticed how many Canadian and Quebec-born filmmakers have been up for Oscars in the last few years? Let’s give a shout-out to Jean-Marc Vallée from Montreal, whose Dallas Buyers Club is up for a staggering six Academy Awards, including one for himself as screenwriter (credited under the pen name John Mac McMurphy); Owen Pallett from Ontario, whose work on Her warranted a nomination for Best Original Score; Andy Koyama from Toronto, nominated in the Best Sound Mixing category for his work on Lone Survivor; Montreal-based visual-effects artist Chris Lawrence, nominated for Gravity; British-born Malcolm Clarke, who has lived in Montreal since the mid-1990s, nominated for his short documentary film The Lady in Number 6.
Well, it looks now like the year really is over. For some, like legendary film critic Roger Ebert, it was the last. For the rest of us, 2014 is looking bright and promising. Time stops for no man. Yesterday’s geniuses have left us; tomorrow’s geniuses are taking their first steps.
The 86th Academy Awards ceremony will air on ABC on March 2. The event will be hosted by comedian and television personality, Ellen DeGeneres.
