Bitesize Best Actress Oscar Profiles: Bette Midler

Bette Midler in "The Rose"

Lost the 1979 Best Actress Oscar to Sally Field in "Norma Rae"

Grade: *****

I've met so many people that admired Marion Cotillard's dramatic take on Edith Piaf in "La Vie En Rose", but relatively few that liked the film itself. Frantic editing or otherwise, the film and performance feel so knowingly interdependent, that I don't see how one of them can survive without the other. My feelings about "The Rose" and its star Bette Midler are similar; Midler is given so much leway with her character that she basically becomes the film. The things going on around her are relegated to mere distractions, and her performance becomes a showcase for the ages.

Apparently modelled on Janis Joplin, Midler's Mary Rose Foster is a rock star plagued by her dependence on drugs and alcohol. When she meets Houston (dashing co-nominee Frederic Forrest), she appears to have something to live for beyond music and extensive intoxication. The film's strands about Rose's affair with Houston, and her rocky relationship with manager Rudge (Alan Bates), don't really go anywhere, but that doesn't prevent Midler from developing an attachment to these characters, even as she keenly flaunts her own complete estrangement from what or who she is as a person, other than The Rose.

The film romanticises self-destruction in the way that tragic talents are iconised in the media, and Midler is only too happy to play Rose as a bittersweet heroine. She is utterly powerhouse in her stage scenes, affecting in her romantic insecurity, but often frustratingly gung-ho in approaching every element of her life. Midler occasionally blends her goofy persona into Rose's louder moments, for when she meets Houston initially -- and in one particular scene where she berates him for getting them kicked out of a bar -- she feels conscious of herself and too aware of how rash her wild temper is. "The Rose" works well because it portrays Foster as an unsalvagable tearaway, and Midler's energy and magnetism as a presence is essential to the success of this biopic.

But then there are her quieter moments; her feigned ambivalence when a fed-up Rudge puts an end to their time together, a proud glimmer of self-recognition when a drag artist imitates her at a bar, and an incredibly sad late scene in a phone box. By far the most resounding memory of "The Rose", however, lies in Midler's rendition of Joplin's own "Stay With Me". She gives the song such a wrenching emotional force, not even as a love song but as a plea for us, for life, to stay with her and remember her. It's one of those moments in cinema where time just seems to stand still, and it's also the perfect way to end this film.

Bitesize Best Actress Oscar Profiles: Jennifer Jones

Jennifer Jones in "Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing"

Lost the 1955 Best Actress Oscar to Anna Magnani in "The Rose Tattoo"

Grade: **

I'll concede to having more than a smidgeon of sympathy for actresses who suffer from inept direction, and Oscar favourite Jennifer Jones certainly falls into that category in this, the final of her five nominations. "Love is a Many-Splendored Thing" is a lifeless exercise in faux-sentimentality, and yet another Henry King film in which his leading figures become martyrs in the name of love and faith. Those two figures are William Holden as American correspondent Mark, and Jennifer Jones as mixed race Doctor Suyin, and it's an understatement to say that their meeting and subsequent relationship don't exactly set the world alight. Still, I'm sure that it'll be some comfort to fans of Arthur Hiller's Love Story that it wasn't the first film to pack limply-constructed courtship and disingenuous melodrama into 95 minutes.

Suyin is portrayed as a gracious and decent doctor, but more despite of her Eurasian descent than because of it, or because of any of her own will to succeed. Indeed, the attempts to address issues of race encompass flimsy bouts of prejudice within Suyin's professional environment. It ain't much of a shock then, to find that Jones is fundamentally unable to channel her character's position within the medical world, or a great passion for it, recalling some of Rosalind Russell's placid acceptance of duty in Sister Kenny, but otherwise a mannequin upon which the film burdens with angst and frail issues.

A scene in which Jones is required to omit the ecstasy at her husband's devotion to her by proclaiming, "He called me to tell me that he's STOPPED biting his fingernails!", handily summarises the ineffectuality of the moments where she is afforded a real Best Actress close-up. I can't imagine any actress transforming this unthinkably silly line into something meaningful, and to her credit Jones softens the end of it to accomodate a bashful hush. The successes of her performance largely emerge through senseless, child-like affectations, generating some belief that her marriage with Mark may be an appealing escape from Eastern roots. And she seems to be a much better judge of character development than Screenwriter John Patrick, or Director King are at building a story.

A JJ fan I am not, but if we're striving for superlatives, she's probably the best thing about the film (I'm not even going to discuss the title track!) But striving we'd be, and she can neither make me believe that love is splendour, or fashion the film's lamb-dressing into even a semblant of a worthy investment.

The Female of the Species

I find that part of being an Oscar completist is a growing indecision towards which categories and performers to focus on. I made a conscious decision a few months ago to curb viewings of Best Actress nominees, for fear of trawling through it too quickly, and instead focused on the other three acting categories. Having been addicted to Nick Davis' wonderful profiles on his final fifty Best Actress viewings some months back, it made me want to plan out which women to leave until last, and which to get out of the way.

The main priorities:-

1) Leave at least one performance from Actresses with multiple nominations that I have not yet seen all of (i.e. Olivia De Havilland, Marsha Mason, Meryl Streep, Jane Fonda, Liv Ullmann), until the final fifty.

2) Ensure that no given Best Actress year has more than two nominees left to see once the final fifty are revealed.

3) Try and keep the divisive performances to later on in the viewings.

It isn't by chance that I have seen twelve women nominated for that Golden Guy in the past month or so, and that there are eight more coming in the next couple of weeks. With 133 women remaining, I intend to write profiles until there are at least 100 to go.

The first of them lands shortly. Stay tuned!

A Review of Flesh of the Orchid (Chereau, 1975)

Flesh of the Orchid

Directed by Patrice Chereau

Starring: Charlotte Rampling, Bruno Cremer, Simone Signoret, Edwige Feuillère

Grade: C+

Written for Subtitled Online:

The misty opening of Patrice Chereau’s "Flesh of the Orchid" extends to a rather shady first act, in which we meet characters that test the patience as much as they spark curiosity. As a gardener marches up to a formidably stately residence, cutting a wallflower off at its stem, one wonders whether this is a bout of symbolism, and when he proceeds to march up to the bed of a horrified Charlotte Rampling and strip off, the notion gathers a tad more steam. Rampling’s Claire is often referred to as a second coming of the “orchid”, a moniker that isn’t pinpointed until later in the film, but nonetheless bears sexual connotations that never temper with the events that follow.

Emerging from a burning truck a mere fifteen minutes into the film, Claire radiates all of the fortified glory of an untouchable femme fatale. She marches into the car of an onlooking pair of male acquaintances with nary a moment’s consideration, quickly taking a shine to Louis (Cremer), the more masculine of the two. Their subsequent visit to a hotel instigates problems when Louis witnesses his friend murdered by two hired mob members, drawing them both into a desperate chase to evade the chasing silencers.

It takes all of this to first occur before we get a sense of Claire’s former existence, the pouting bursts of disapproval from a fur-clad Madame Bastier-Wagener (Feuillère) calling for her staff to scour the land for her niece, and placing a sizeable reward for her capture. The remaining information is relayed to us throughout the film, a glorified cameo by the Oscar-winning Simone Signoret as a circus Madame revealing the true, fiscally-motivated reasons for Claire’s Aunt wanting her kept behind closed doors.

Her immediate escape from the motor accident’s threat of fatality reads like an endorsement from the big bad world; this woman has survived for reasons beyond her confined, bubble-wrap setting. It’s an observation that’s only reinforced in her following skirmishes with the law, underground cartel, and the wrath of a ruthless Aunt. As Claire is forced to confront a world outside of what she is accustomed to, she does so with an amalgam of bemusement, acceptance, and exhilaration. The reality, of course, is that Charlotte Rampling’s Claire is just looking for affirmation of her own sexuality, control of her life in whatever form. Her relationship with Louis begins with a decidedly unhealthy desperation surrounding it; since Claire is looking to grasp her newfound freedom and use anyone she can to preserve it.

The film, however, swiftly changes course from being a psychosexual examination of a woman whose sexuality has clearly defined her existence as an incarcerated mental patient, to a seedy caper about vengeful gangsters and greedy aristocrats. It’s a bold move, but one that makes "Flesh" disarmingly aloof, to the point where it feels constricted and mechanical about its characters’ actions, leaving us wanting to know more about them, more about Claire’s back-story, and the source of the gangland gripes. There’s a propensity towards demonstrating consequences and generating an element of karma that makes the film much more plot-based than had previously been promised. Chereau ceases to coax us into Claire’s scheme of things once the chase begins, proceeding to rally at her behest in some form of authorial self-righteousness.

 It would be somewhat of a stretch to label Flesh as a revenge movie, but it does convect a vaguely feminist stance on Claire’s plight as a socially-starved wildflower. Every other major character in the film is punished to some degree, either as a result of sketchy morals or a failure to understand female sexuality well enough. Most of this is not achieved through Claire’s own actions, which is why vengeance doesn’t feel like the most defining feature on offer, but there is something sinister about the way that Claire is placed on a pedestal without us really being required to identify with her. Chereau’s focus becomes unclear when his attention is diverted to a bigger, ensemble-style modus operandi, and his cutthroat dramatic devices feel particularly out of place within a wry, inevitable tone.

The maddening distance felt during "Flesh" is at war with an admittedly interesting premise, and it’s true that it sustains a firm level of appeal as a loose cannon of sorts. Yet, one can’t help but feel that the real promise and bite of the film remain rooted in its first few unnerving, aggressive, expository scenes, and that it pertains to display its heroine through iconography rather than addressing her concerns within the narrative. As an orchid Claire escapes the clutches of materialist manipulation, but whether she escapes her director’s prism of objectification is another matter.

"Flesh of the Orchid" is available on DVD from November 1st.

A Review of D'Artagnan's Daughter (Tavernier, 1994)

D'Artagnan's Daughter

Directed by Bertrand Tavernier

Starring: Sophie Marceau, Philippe Noiret, Nils Tavernier, Claude Rich, Sami Frey, Charlotte Kady

Grade: C

Written for Subtitled Online:

Nearly a full decade before Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow sailed the seven seas, spurning authority and balking at the prospect of meeting a gruesome end, Philippe Noiret’s D’Artagnan was doing much of the same in rural France. Alexandre Dumas’s original three musketeers became four with the introduction of surly D’Artagnan, and even though this new installment of a much-coveted franchise sees the musketeers weary ageing men eager to recapture former glories, the result is just as farcical and pulsating a swashbuckler as its plucky, rum-fuelled descendant.

Tavernier’s film, however, is less about the musketeers themselves than it is about the titular character Eloïse (Marceau), daughter of the Fourth musketeer, and every bit as keen to aid the French resistance. Her discovery of a curiously-worded note sparks speculation about whether there is a plot against the French monarchy, a conclusion hastened by the increasingly volatile behaviour of the Duke of Crassac, and his merciless muse Elgantine de Rochefort. Eloïse turns to her estranged father for advice on the matter, the result of which is that the musketeers are reunited for one last (?) quest, accompanied by Eloïse herself, and romantic poet Misère, who is courting her affection.

More than any other element of “D’Artagnan’s Daughter”, Philippe Noiret’s turn as D’Artagnan is responsible for setting the comedic tone of the piece, as his interaction with Marceau -- a striking doppelganger of Isabelle Adjani, if more fickle an Actress – provides an interesting aside to the goofing around. Noiret is the core of the ensemble, managing to come across as a different outlet for everybody’s frustrations; an intimidating but effortlessly cool father-in-law, and to his colleagues a helplessly noble sucker for a “cause”.

One of the amiable successes of “D’Artagnan’s Daughter” is its ability to unite a set of characters so loosely bound, with wildly different approaches to adversity, to its common cause of libertarianism. Eloise is carrying out a moral crusade, while her father seems to enter the battle out of duty; Misere is a dreamer who wants to make an impact, while the other musketeers are as resigned to accept the situation as workers asked to cover a shift at short notice. Despite this, there are few moments where you wonder just what this troop of folks are doing together, which is admirable given that the “mission” itself, however uncertain and sporadic, has a distinct air of the novelty about it.

The group impetuously push on with their venture, unsure of who exactly is threatening them and in what capacity, drunk on activism and motivated by a general distaste for the current political situation. As an early scene involving the murder of a Mother Superior is depicted with all of the pulp of a sherry trifle, it becomes clear that this is a project much more devoted to the sillier, camp elements of 17th century France, keen to excise historical hang-ups from the musketeer mantra. As a consequence, “D’Artagnan’s Daughter” feels more token, reliant upon wit and pace, carrying with it all of the irony of watching people fight for fighting’s sake, rattling off quips about each other’s incompetence, putting their own appetite above each other’s safety.

There’s a tiresome, roundabout slog to the film’s constant desire to win over an audience through non-committal bitchiness and predictably-sarcastic pockets of humour. At over two hours it’s little surprise that the film cannot sustain its energy through this technique, dissipating as a frothy comedy and delivering lite on the promise of concrete historical satire. One is reminded, more often than not, of those pesky Pirate films, and their distracting approach to a laboured, idea-shy narrative.

It’s somewhat of a credit, but largely a misguided deferral, to suggest that the most chiefly apt description of “D’Artagnan’s Daughter” is “fun”. As well as it captures the period with marauders in tunics and brazen women in suggestive attire, D’Artagnan is just that bit too stagy and familiar to sidestep the self-consciousness of a script so skewed towards generating laughter from general indifference and incompetence. It draws attention to its own motivations far more than one would like.

As a bit of a maverick venture, “D’Artagnan’s Daughter” fairly obviously coasts on the notable eccentricities of Dumas’s work, and feels exactly that; a well-meaning fixture, rather than a genuine extension of the franchise. It introduces a different angle to a well-known story, but is too content to hide behind flippant remarks, its lack of ambition curbing any legitimate shots at glory. This may be more than mildly entertaining fare, but it isn’t one for all.

Second Hand Unwinds: Oscar Predictions For 2010

Excuse the near three-week absence from posting, but I've just started a new job and am thus busy adjusting to a sensibly alien sleeping pattern. I've decided to plug the gap between reviews (and there will be reviews; of starlets playing up to new surroundings, and conspiracies within the heart of Europe) by venturing back towards the familiar path of Oscar prognostication. It's still all harmless fun at this point, but Awards season is upon us, so this seems like as opportune a moment as any.

Best Picture

"127 Hours"

"Another Year"

"For Colored Girls..."

"Inception"

"The Kids Are All Right

"The King's Speech"

"Made in Dagenham"

"Secretariat"

"The Social Network"

"The Way Back"

Alternates: "The Fighter", "Toy Story 3", "Rabbit Hole"

"Inception" and "Toy Story 3" are popular, and got the fiscal ball rolling in 2010, but they still go against the grain of Oscar's general middle-brow gaze. I think that Nolan's film will probably have enough support to gain entry to the year's "top ten", but I'm not yet convinced that animated features will necessarily broach Best Picture regularly in an extended field. Why not "For Colored Girls..." then? A film about a repressed minority, with an all-star cast, and following on the coattails of last year's "Precious".

Best Director

Danny Boyle, "127 Hours"

David Fincher, "The Social Network"

Tom Hooper, "The King's Speech"

Mike Leigh, "Another Year"

Peter Weir, "The Way Back"

Alternates: Christopher Nolan, "Inception", Lisa Cholodenko, "The Kids Are All Right", The Coen Bros, "True Grit"

It appears foolhardy to forecast another snub for Nolan, but if he can get subbed for Stephen Daldry and Ron Howard in 2008, then it's at all possible he could miss out for just as dense a film this year, when the competition is stiffer.

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Annette Bening, "The Kids Are All Right"

Anne Hathaway, "Love and Other Drugs"

Diane Lane, "Secretariat"

Lesley Manville, "Another Year"

Julianne Moore, "The Kids Are All Right"

Alternates: Natalie Portman, "Black Swan", Hilary Swank, "Conviction", Jennifer Lawrence, "Winter's Bone"

A mixture of the prolific, reputable, burgeoning, and one-time-only nominees that often occurs in this category. Natalie Portman is brilliant in "Black Swan", but it's dark and her character has serious issues with sexuality that are bound to put off certainly the stauncher Academy members. I'd be very sad to see Sally Hawkins ousted from the lineup for another Hathaway/downtrodden rural American double-team, but she's only likely to get in if the film is BIG. Even if Julianne Moore is campaigned as Supporting in Kids, I think a lead nomination is a very legitimate outcome, given that maybe a vote for one automatically pertains to include the other?

Best Actor in a Leading Role

Javier Bardem, "Biutiful"

Colin Firth, "The King's Speech"

James Franco, "127 Hours"

Ryan Gosling, "Blue Valentine"

Mark Wahlberg, "The Fighter"

Alternates: Robert Duvall, "Get Low", Jeff Bridges, "True Grit", Paul Giamatti, "Barney's Version"

I'm betting that at least 40-80% of these have death scenes, which always appears to be a plus in the Best Actor category. Ryan Gosling has the luxury (?) of another December release, while the others all have personal obstacles to overcome. If this is the five, and nobody really trumps the critics, then does Mark Wahlberg have a shot at glory?

Best Actress in a Supporting Role

Helena Bonham Carter, "The King's Speech"

Kimberly Elise, "For Colored Girls..."

Miranda Richardson, "Made in Dagenham"

Saoirse Ronan, "The Way Back"

Jacki Weaver, "Animal Kingdom"

Alternates: Dianne Wiest, "Rabbit Hole", Whoopi Goldberg, "For Colored Girls...", Lesley Manville, "Another Year"

Having just seen Richardson's turn in Daggers, I'm not on board with a nomination. It's showboating of the most flagrant order, which is why Oscar might bite. Ronan already has one nomination and was dangerously poised last year to take over from faltering hopefuls. I'm thinking that "For Colored Girls..." will surely land a Supp Actress nominee, but who?

Best Actor in a Supporting Role

Christian Bale, "The Fighter"

Ed Harris, "The Way Back"

Mark Ruffalo, "The Kids Are All Right"

Geoffrey Rush, "The King's Speech"

John Hawkes, "Winter's Bone"

Alternate: Andrew Garfield, "The Social Network", Sam Rockwell, "Conviction", Colin Farrell, "The Way Back"

Hawkes seems like a long shot, but if we're wading for contenders the likelihood of him landing up on critics lineups etc. is not that slim. Harris and Rush are strong supporting players who AMPAS already likes; Ruffalo stronger if you ask me, but so far shunned.

Best Original Screenplay

"Another Year"

"Inception"

"The Kids Are All Right"

"The King's Speech"

"Made In Dagenham"

Alternate: "The Fighter"

Best Adapted Screenplay

"127 Hours"

"For Colored Girls..."

"The Social Network"

"Thw Way Back"

"Winter's Bone"

Alternate: "Love and Other Drugs"

Venice Film Festival 2010: A Review of "Black Venus"

Black Venus (Vénus noire)

Directed by Abdellatif Kechiche

Starring: Yahima Torres, Andre Jacobs, Olivier Gourmet, Elina Löwensohn, Jonathan Pienaar

Grade: B

While some will attest that the armless Venus De Milo is a work of art, actual physical faults are treated with considerably less vigour – even when they’re a result of nature itself. The Venus in Abdellatif Kechiche’s biographical drama never comes close to attaining the stature of a God, but nevertheless provides the basis for a fascinating meditation on how one can be judged by the sum of their apparent parts.

The Venus in question is one Saartije ‘Sarah’ Bartman (Torres), who has been brought to England by Hendrick Caezar, a entrepreneur who believes he can find a niche within London’s entertainment industry in the early 1800’s. He markets the woman, whose sagging breasts and abnormally huge buttocks (as well as her African descent) turn heads, as the “Hottentot Venus”, creating a show around her alien features and exploiting his public’s general fear of the unknown. This vision extends to incorporate Saartije as a star, but does so by compromising the grace of the woman for an approach that emphasises her as a dangerous freak of nature.

Kechiche’s depiction of nineteenth-century London successfully brings the squalor of the city to the fore, gaudily presenting the low-brow tastes of working class, pre-Victorian England, and all of its sensationalist hypocrisy. In the very first scene there we sense that this is an ugly place to reside, the folk attracted to businessman Caezar’s star attraction tangibly beying to be entertained, and gladly feasting on the novelty of an unusually-shaped African woman. Saartije is playing along with the theatrical aspect of the turn, engaging in tribal-style dancing, and behaving like an aggressive animal whenever a member of the audience dares to approach her.

Even if the unsightly deformities and circus escapades suggest that “Black Venus” be some feminised form of The Elephant Man, Saartije is at least aware of the meretricious aspects of the production, and appears to neither want nor need rescuing. The film addresses the implications of Caezar’s use of Saartije (whether she is his slave or his colleague) early on, profiling this case in a lengthy, over-staged courtroom scene that lathers tabloid-style brushstrokes onto the argument. It’s rather surprising that Saartije’s issue is held so firmly within the public sphere at all, an observation noted by the British bravura of a court official; “It is a credit to this country that it protects the interests of even a Negro woman.” As well as demonstrating a tongue-in-cheek criticism of the indefinitely flawed logic behind moral hierarchy, Kechiche asserts that individual accountability is a peripheral concern within his film, and as he formally deals with the motives behind Caezar’s governance of Saartije “Black Venus” becomes much more of an indictment of society’s failures than anything Caezar does personally.

The film’s primary theme of exploitation unravels slowly, Saartije’s iconisation as the “Venus” shrewdly de-humanising her as a commodity to indulge in. This is a completely different world from John Hurt’s refined surroundings, as Saartije has to contend with Parisian sex parties rather than formal dinners, but their journeys follow the common trope of the outsider’s need for acceptance. Black Venus stresses how one can become so dependent upon habitual pleasures, and bound by the constraints of a circle of friends, that we can so easily conform to a lifestyle that we haven’t chosen for ourselves. Social indoctrination can occur on a multitude of levels, and in this story Kechiche finds a way to demonstrate how a person’s unique qualities and attributes can be modulated to accommodate a certain gaze.

The richness of "Black Venus" and its assured sense of the period extends (and “extend” really is the key word here) to several lengthy scenes in which Saartije is on display, gyrating her hips and bearing her teeth. As a debilitation of her dignity and condition the surfeit of spectacles serve a purpose, but Saartije’s fetishisation leads to a disconnection between her and the audience. Kechiche seems short on ideas to demonstrate the effect that British life has had on her, opting instead to distract with displays of degrading 19th century pornography. “Black Venus” and its prolonging of the inevitable is a torturous emotional device, which pads out the film to a dauntingly overlong 160 minutes and produces a dawning sense of the anti-climactic.

In the Venus role Yahima Torres – who, to my knowledge, doesn’t even have an IMDB page – gives a display that is so introspectively devastating that it defies belief. Often an escalating vessel for the film’s thematic presentation, rather than an active proponent within the narrative study, her moves to suggest Saartije’s ideological shifts (both past and present) add valuable substance to the character. As she gives a personal account to a packed courtroom she states, “I am an Actress,” with such an inflected sense of motioned duty, realising just as she utters the words that they are ridiculous. Torres reveals Saartije’s sense of performance, ensconced in a culture that shuns any real esteem, her bemusement with science reflecting that, on some level, she has accepted what she has become.

Although the film opens with a scientific lecture about the Black Venus and the cultural derivation of her various bodily intricacies, it then veers to a much looser, freer tone, almost mythologising the concrete knowledge already offered. This is not a well-known pocket of history, and so its sudden shift into a detached world reads as a way of spurning encyclopaedic technicalities and proclaiming that there was more about this woman than her female form. The sad truth about Saartije is that few people in the film realise this, her objectification in the five or six years of her life that “Black Venus” covers maintaining that the woman was never treated as anything other than an ephemeral study: her legacy defines her.

The film’s value lies in its ability to interconnect human sciences with medical science, genuinely accessible as an historical biopic of sorts, but never exclusively tied to a timeline. In avoiding becoming too self-righteous towards his subject Kechiche achieves a lot with his ambitiously-scoped examination of cultural ignorance, and integrates conventional biopic stamps into his outlandish topic. Even if a chunk of “Black Venus” could acceptably be consigned to the cutting room floor, it’s difficult to condemn its unrelenting vision, and the level of interest in its unique appeal makes for a thoroughly worthwhile experience.

Venice Film Festival 2010: Prize Winners

In the last few minutes, Sofia Coppola's "Somewhere" unanimously won the Golden Lion for Best Picture at Venice. I'm fairly surprised that it stuck out enough to warrant the big award, but there we go. Ariane Labed's Best Actress win for "Attenberg" is also a little out of the blue, given the vast amount of competition. Still, it's good when things aren't so predictable.

The full list of winners is as follows:

Golden Lion: "Somewhere" by Sofia Coppola

Silver Lion: Álex de la Iglesia for "A Sad Trumpet Ballad"

Special Jury Prize: "Essential Killing" by Jerzy Skolimowsi

Volpi Cup - Best Actor: Vincent Gallo for "Essential Killing"

Volpi Cup - Best Actress: Ariane Labed for "Attenberg"

Screenplay: "A Sad Trumpet Ballad" by Álex de la Iglesia

Venice Awards Speculation (2): Oscar Potential

Of the dozens of films shown at the Venice Film Festival this year, few will make it onto US cinema screens at all, never mind in 2010. Even those that do are often much too tiny, obscure, or hard work for industry bigwigs and media pundits to truly get behind. These are the main films that might have had a chance at Oscar attention.

Black Swan

Natalie Portman's dynamite performance in "Black Swan" could and should receive awards attention, but if the film is mauled by critics in some quarters (as I suspect it may be) then it and her could be entirely dismissed. Portman is the perfect age to break into the established Best Actress nominee mould, and her profile is still very lofty, but she needs people to take her seriously even if they don't do the same for the production as a whole.

Meek's Cutoff

Kelly Reichardt's film is too minimal to capture enough backing for major nominations, but its period pull may prove fruitful for the experienced, overlooked costume designer Victoria Farrell. Sadly, I'm inclined to believe that it'll probably be released in very few theatres and make a pittance, since it admirably doesn't flaunt what it has.

Miral

I didn't feel that "Miral" was doing enough in any sense to upset a portion of the Academy, but my Jewish, part-ambivalent friend thought otherwise. If the film is indeed seen to be pro-Palestine, as she felt it came across, then the Weinsteins may have a difficult job in getting it a Best Picture nomination. Still, while "Miral" is dull and misguided, it does fit perfectly into the AMPAS realm of the middle-ground ("We want peace for both sides" etc.), and so it's the kind of movie that can manage awards attention without great international acclaim.

Somewhere

I think that Sofia Coppola's "Somewhere" is finished in terms of awards opportunity, even in the Original Screenplay category. It doesn't appear to have the support of "Lost in Translation", and certainly doesn't have the same comedic impact. Destined to be drowned out by the post-Toronto flurry.

The Town

If "The Town" makes a big enough splash stateside then it may benefit from an early-ish release. Ben Affleck has the respect from "Gone Baby Gone" (and is an Oscar-winner after all) to command call for a Best Picture nomination, but probably only if similar films follow it and falter.

From the Rest:

One can make a case that if Catherine Deneuve wins Best Actress here, and should "Potiche" turn into a box-office hit in the U.S., then we could be looking at a sentimental nomination for its star. I think that that's very far-reaching, especially since the Actress race is looking particularly crowded at the moment. "Potiche" is also a possibility for France's Foreign Language submission, although they have a history of going against the grain in that regard.

Other Foreign Language submissions may emerge from Antonio Capuano's "Dark Love" (Italy), which is very good. I also think that Colombia would be wise to submit "Little Voices", an animation about the difficulties of children growing up with the threat of Guerilla warfare on their doorstep. It's very baity, and can probably coast a little on the animated, war-themed success of "Waltz With Bashir" a couple of years ago.

Venice Awards Speculation (1): Festival Prize Predictions

Having only just recovered from yesterday's delayed slog back to the North of England, I'm now ready to provide some reaction to the Venice trip. As well as speculating on where the festival's awards may go (Guy Lodge has already stuck his two cents in), I'm also going to be discussing the Oscar potential of some of the films. I don't pretend to be a shrewd Oscar prognosticator, but talking about some of Venice's awards hopefuls in greater detail will hopefully convey my doubts about their ability to appeal to the Academy collective.

First to the anticipated festival prizes, which are even more difficult to judge given that it's essentially decided by seven people locked in a room until decisions are made. Add to that the fact that the head of those seven people is the off-the-wall auteur Quentin Tarantino, and things become even hazier.

Predictions as follows:

Golden Lion: "Black Venus"

Alternate: "Post Mortem"

A film that commands respect for a fascinating and hard-to-depict subject matter, even as it prolongs so many similar scenes and doesn't evolve to the state that one feels it should. Hard to argue with as a showcase piece.

Silver Lion: Kelly Reichardt for "Meek's Cutoff"

Alternate: Darren Aronofsky for "Black Swan"

Perhaps this is wishful thinking as I felt that these were the two most assured pieces of Direction. Reichardt's Western is sparse and delicate, even as it brings up difficult subjects. In any case, her film is a Director's film, and despite the less-than-enthusiastic overall response, I don't think this coup is out of the question.

Special Jury Prize: "Essential Killing"

Alternate: "Post Mortem"

I have a feeling that "Essential Killing" may be popular among the male-dominated jury, but that it won't win the top prize. I found it tiresome in the worst ways.

Volpi Cup - Best Actress: Yahima Torres for "Black Venus"

Alternate: Natalie Portman for "Black Swan"

If I was on the jury I'd be fighting tooth and nail for a Torres victory here, since I felt her performance was one of the most impacting, introspectively devastating things I've witnessed in a cinema for a long while. Her role is certainly the most sympathetic, and so I'd suggest that she be a strong favourite for this.

Volpi Cup - Best Actor: Vincent Gallo for "Essential Killing"

Alternate: Bruce Greenwood for "Meek's Cutoff"

Involved in three films at the festival; two of which he directed, and two of which he starred in. He's also rather handy in the Skolimowski picture, and has a no-dialogue gimmick that may work in his favour.

Screenplay Prize: Athina Rachel Tsangari for "Attenberg"

Alternate: Denis Osokin for "Silent Souls"

Two films that may fly in a tad under the radar, and that I've heard trusty positive word about. Again, if you're spreading the wealth (as so often happens), then these may even pop up in the above prizes.

Coming Up: Judging the Oscar potential of the Venice crop.

Venice Film Festival 2010: Notes on "Potiche"

Potiche

Directed by François Ozon

Starring: Catherine Deneuve, Gérard Depardieu, Fabrice Luchini, Jérémie Renier

Grade: B+

It's hard to believe that François Ozon's "8 Women" was released as far back as eight years ago, the then-58 year-old Catherine Deneuve its frothy bourgeois star. The repeat adventure of this Director-Actress pairing, "Potiche", taken to mean "trophy", as in "trophy wife", represents Ozon's return to the world of high-camp comedy, chronicling the escapades of high-class housewife Suzanne Pujol and her unfaithful husband.

Even if its unrelenting revelations deem this particular brand of comedy rather throwaway, the consistency of characterisation and the rewarding family dynamic enhance the film's incessant silliness. Deneuve wonderfully adapts to the tone of the picture, her comic delivery and extension of the character a joy to watch.

"Potiche" is a breath of fresh air, packed to the brim with snappy, hilarious dialogue and a refreshingly brisk style. From the quirky, uplifting opening credits it becomes clear that Ozon is going to give us a good time, and judging by the raucous reaction of the audience, I'm fairly certain that he delivered.

Venice Film Festival 2010: A Review of "Somewhere"

Somewhere

Directed by Sofia Coppola

Starring: Stephen Dorff, Elle Fanning, Chris Pontius, Michelle Monaghan, Benicio Del Toro

Grade: B -

Sofia Coppola's work frequently requires you to delve into the minds of her characters, and of her four feature-length productions, "Somewhere" is the film that most guiltily holds back on emotional expression. The story of the disillusioned celebrity is hardly a new concept, but Coppola finds a way to tell a story that doesn't play up to conceits or formulae, crafting a genuine father-daughter relationship and maintaining a rather scathing stance on "celebrity", and its tendency to distract from real-world connections.

Sparsely-shot scenes litter the first act, curbing the film's accessibility considerably. For instance, there are two separate pole dancing scenes within ten minutes of each other, and don't contribute enough to our view of Stephen Dorff's Johnny enough to warrant inclusion. The film feels wallowing and suspended before the entrance of Chloe (Fanning), and at only 90 minutes more scenes between them is needed to fully grasp the looseness of their relationship. One feels that Coppola is selling this story a little short.

Still, there are many moments where she effectively conveys the distance and distortion a life of luxury can create, and in a tenderly different way to the dislocation in "Lost in Translation". This film is more about the dangers of taking things for granted, and the denouement of Coppola's film somewhat atones for the overall slightness of its scope.

Venice Film Festival 2010: A Review of "Miral"

Miral

Directed by Julian Schnabel

Starring: Freida Pinto, Hiam Abbass, Alexander Siddig, Yasmine Elmasri

Grade: C -

Although the film is titled "Miral", after the Palestinian revolutionary, it's over an hour before Miral herself -- a plucky Freida Pinto -- makes an appearance. Much of the film's first half is made up of flimsy exposition (some of which isn't even relevant), and the story becomes somewhat of a burdened timeline representation of the Israel-Palestine conflict.

"Miral" doesn't work as an overview because it is so uniformally-written, with a definitive solemnity about the middle-eastern battle and its talking points over the past sixty years. This would be much easier to take were Julian Schnabel able to connect his characters to their surroundings and create a tight enough bond between the four principal women that he highlights. Instead, "Miral" suffers from a lack of focus, historically-aware but hesitant about whether to centre itself around Miral or her mentor Hind Husseini. In terms of time, the span between them is rather great, and resultantly the plot becomes far too strained and indeterminate. Key shifts in Miral's political and emotional attitudes are bypassed to accommodate a progressive trawl through the history books.

Schnabel's unorthodox method of filmmaking aids in richening the appeal of "Miral", well-shot for the most part and even occasionally moving. Nevertheless, the script's early misgivings lead to a disjointed and uneven feel; there may be a lot to say about this subject, but "Miral" isn't the film to say it.

Venice Film Festival 2010: Day 2

A strenuous day 2 began with the harmless "Machete", Robert Rodriguez's latest idea for a movie, adapted from the spoof Grindhouse trailer of the same name. While occasionally hilarious the film is a strong rival to "The Expendables", in that its fatefully lazy plotting emphasises both the good and bad of its manic tone.

My second viewing was altogether different, the tender Italian film "Dark Love", about a girl who is gang-raped and her psychological post-struggle, as well as the struggle of one her incarcerated assailants to cope with what he has done. Director Antonio Capuano deals with the subject modestly, and successfully avoids any offensive contrivances.

I then made a brief return to my hotel room to freshen up before the evening's double-screening of Julian Schnabel's "Miral", and Anh Hung Tran's "Norweigan Wood". The former constantly frustrated me with its tepid approach to a heavy subject matter, and a wildly miguided narrative structure. By contrast, "Norweigan Wood" is a much more sincere, gripping take on adolescence, as well as being profoundly beautiful. While it gets a tad bogged down in repetitive teenage exchanges about love, and depicts an over-reliance upon sex as a cure for solitude, it proves remarkably fruitful on an emotional level.

Coming Up: A Review of "Miral"

Notes on "Black Swan"

Black Swan

Directed by Darren Aronofsky

Starring: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey, Winona Ryder

Grade: B+

In 1948 Moira Shearer's red shoes led her down a path to destruction, shaming the ambitions of its dancing devotee. Darren Aronofsky's "Black Swan" is a fairy-tale all about self-reflection, reverent of ballet's expressionistic qualities and ambiguities, and the dark promise of a dancer's modus operandi.

"Black Swan" is extraordinary in its frenetic, close-capture sense of spectacle, maintaining an ornateness through all of its gruesome attempts to rattle and drastic character escalation. Natalie Portman as Nina suffers for her art, visibly strained from the duality of the character, and evolves from meek to precocious to jealous to erratic, effectively shading Nina's arc with glimpses of unpredictable self-loathing and scrupulous behaviour.

Aronofsky is often as impulsive as his heroine, exercising some really blatant creative license, with an admittedly coursed fable, but his film gains such boundless energy as it moves and transforms in our minds, that I hardly cared. "Black Swan" is tremendous, and not to be missed.

Venice Film Festival 2010: Day 1

While many folks profess that the worst part about going overseas is the flying, I don't subscribe to that mode of thought. Sure, airports can be stressful, but once you're past all of the rigmarole and protocol a flight can actually feel like a euphoric wave. My flight from East Midlands to Marco Polo proved to be a handy transition, a chilled prep for the buzzed atmosphere of Venice and its lavish Lido.

On the flight there I met a well-to-do, elderly couple, oblivious to the fact that a Festival is even going on in the city for the next eleven days. It puts things into perspective somewhat - we aren't all slaves to cinema, and the isolationist feeling you get when attending the festival isn't solely psychological.

Days like this confirm to me that the film industry is one of the greatest in the world, and even as I lounge in my hotel room, wondering whether tonight's premiere of "Black Swan" will be special or backfire somewhat, I realise that it doesn't matter a great deal. For now I'm a romantic, and I highly doubt that bi-curious ballerinas and their flamboyant psychosis can truly spoil that.

Coming Up: Reaction to "Black Swan"