Hugo (2011) ****

Every once in awhile cinema has a stellar year: 1939, 1940, 1941, 1950, 1957, 1962, 1967, 1976, and 1994 spring to mind. I now feel confident that we can add 2011 to that esteemed list, primarily because of such films as The Artist, The Descendants, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, The Help, Midnight in Paris, A Separation, In Darkness, and today’s entry: Hugo. Granted, some are better than others, but taken as a whole they serve to make 2011 one of the best years for film in almost two decades. It is my opinion that director Martin Scorsese’s Hugo is the standout production from this illustrious year.

Based on Brian Selznick’s 2007 novel, The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Hugo is about an orphaned Parisian boy (Asa Butterfield) who keeps the Paris Gare Montparnasse Railway Station’s clocks moving.  Apprenticed to his drunk, absentee uncle (Ray Winstone), Hugo is an extremely lonely boy whose only friend appears to be a broken automaton (think Metropolis) that he and his father (Jude Law) were attempting to fix before Mr. Cabret was killed in a fire. To attain parts to the automaton, Hugo steals them from the railway station’s toymaker, Georges Méliès (Ben Kingsley), who begrudgingly befriends the boy after witnessing his mechanical acumen. Hugo also become friends with Méliès goddaughter and ward, Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), who happens to possess the key (quite literally) to fixing the automaton.  Once fixed, the automaton draws the now iconic symbol of the spaceship in the eye of the moon from A Trip to the Moon (1902).  The children set off to discover what the drawing means, and this adventure leads them to discover that the toymaker was once one of cinema’s greatest filmmakers. There’s much more to the story, but I won’t spoil it for those of you who haven’t seen it yet.

Scorsese, along with acclaimed cinematographer Robert Richardson (who won an Oscar for this film), shot Hugo is 3-D. My words can not do justice to the sheer beauty of what they put up on the screen.  Without a doubt this is Scorsese’s visual masterpiece, it is a shame that he didn’t win a Best Director Oscar, but obviously the Academy was in love with The Artist in 2011. From the shots of the interworking of the clocks to the spectacular railway shots, everything seems so much crisper and fluid than what I’ve seen in other 3-D films.  Hugo deservedly won five Academy Awards for its visual and audio mastery: cinematography, art direction, visual effects, sound editing, and sound mixing. The only technical award that it didn’t win was for film editing, which went to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (I haven’t seen this yet, so I can’t make a judgment on which deserved the Oscar more).

But this movie isn’t just visually stunning, it also has an engaging and endearing story.  Watching all of the plot elements come together at the end was perhaps a bit oversentimental, but still highly enjoyable.  For a film filled with so many emotionally (and in one case, physically) broken people Hugo never becomes overburdened by melancholy. I was especially pleased with the care Scorsese and Oscar-nominated screenwriter John Logan took in developing Méliès’s backstory. Yes, they took a few historical licenses in this depiction, but for the most part they were fairly accurate. Few directors have as much reverence for the history of film as Scorsese. By inserting clips of the most important films prior to 1931 (when this story takes place) Scorsese showcases the grandeur of early cinema.  On a side note, I must thank The 1001 Book for my ability to recognize just about every film referenced in Hugo.

In addition to outstanding visuals and a moving story, Hugo is also loaded with a number of standout performances. Both Butterfield and Moretz show great range for such young actors.  Butterfield, in particular, has what is known as screen presence (of course, that could have been an added advantage to being shot in 3-D).  Not surprisingly, Kingsley is mesmerizing as Méliès.  If you’ve seen any old photos of the famed director then you know the make-up department did a fantastic job transforming Kingsley into Méliès.  The most surprising performance came from Sacha Baron Cohen as Inspector Gustave.  Who knew that the man who created such idiotic caricatures as Borat, Ali G, Bruno, and General Aladeen, could play a complete buffoon with so much restraint? I have to admit I was completely shocked by how nice of a job he did with this role.

I could go on and on about how much I liked Hugo, but I expect you are tired of reading (if you’ve made it this far), so I’ll end by saying that it is one of the best films I’ve seen in the last ten years.  It is truly a monumental piece of cinematic vision.

 

The Artist (2011) **1/2

When it comes to artistic achievement, director Michel Hazanavicius’ The Artist (2011) should be duly lauded. Nominated for ten Academy Awards, it took home Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score (Ludovic Bource), Costume Design (Mark Bridges), and Best Actor (Jean Dujardin). Making a silent, black and white movie in 2011 took guts, and in the end it paid off for Hazanavicius and Dujardin. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to love this film—which I obviously didn’t as indicated by my **1/2 rating. I liked Hugo (2011) far more than this and was beyond shocked that my husband Mr. Clooney’s performance in The Descendants (2011) was beat out by a man who spoke less than five words. Perhaps this sounds like sacrilege to some, but I don’t care, I just wasn’t that impressed.

Dujardin plays George Valentin, a silent-era film star on top of Hollywoodland in 1927. As handsome as John Gilbert and athletically gifted as Rudolph Valentino, Valentin is admired by his fans and valued by his studio, Kinograph. But things change dramatically for Valentin when his studio head, Al Zimmer (John Goodman), decides to scrap silent films in favor of the sound era and replaces his “old” actors with fresh, young faces like Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a woman who got her start in Tinseltown because of Valentin. By 1931, Valentin is pawning and auctioning off his belongings and is mired in alcoholism and depression. It is left up to Peppy to bring Valentin back from the brink and reinsert him in the celluloid frame.

So, what did I like about The Artist? Guillaume Schiffman’s cinematography is brilliant. He may have lost the Oscar to Robert Richardson’s work in Hugo, but coming in second to that effort is no reason to be ashamed. Schiffman shot The Artist in color and at a frame rate of 22 fps (to mimic the silent era’s standard speed). Every detail was matched to the equipment used in 1920s silent films. I have said it numerous times, but I’ll say it again: there is no more beautiful cinematography than a well-composed, pristine black and white shot movie.

The other two things that I like about The Artist are Bejo and Uggie (who plays Jack the dog). While I couldn’t help but admire Dujardin’s handsomeness, it is Bejo who stood out the most to me. Her performance adds depth to this film, and it isn’t difficult to notice that Dujardin’s best scenes are the ones in which he appears with Bejo. She has what they call in France je ne sais quoi. While Uggie might not be described quite the same way as Bejo, he is absolutely adorable. Of course, I love dogs, so he had an extra advantage.

In the end, I am not a huge admirer of The Artist. I respect it as a daring piece of art in a cinema world infested with CGI and intellectual bankruptcy, but it just wasn’t “all that” to me. Still, I think it should be respected for its artistic integrity and outstanding cinematography. But, I must say this once more: my husband, Mr. Clooney, was robbed.

298. Rango

298. (02 Dec) Rango (2011, Gore Verbinski) 50



The eccentric, mildly amusing humor of Rango might've sustained it for an hour, but it certainly wears out its welcome with that extra 45 minutes. There's some impressive use of animation, particularly in how well-utilized water is. This looks infinitely better than the ugly aesthetic of Pixar flicks. The tacked-on environmentalist message is unnecessary.

Review: Heartbeats (2011)

Left to right: Francis (Dolan), Nicolas (Schneider) & Marie (Chokri)

Directed by Xavier Dolan
Produced by Xavier Dolan, Carole Mondello, and Daniel Morin
Written by Xavier Dolan
Starring Monia Chokri, Niels Schneider, and Xavier Dolan

****

Francis (Dolan) is best friends with Marie (Chokri). In fact, their relationship is more like a brother-sister one, but they want something more. After they meet Nicolas (Schneider) at a party, their relationship develops into an interesting love triangle, unbeknownst to Nicolas. The threesome, however, are a tight group, even sleeping in the same cramped bed together. Francis and Marie both fall in love with Nicolas, who appears friendly and somewhat receptive to their advances. Each pursues him, but to no avail. They even distance themselves from each other, in order to win the affections of Nicolas. Upon confronting Nicolas, Francis and Marie are jilted, and must mend their friendship as they try to heal their broken hearts. But life goes on, and they're soon back at a party, on the prowl for their next love.

Xavier Dolan's film takes an interesting look at this complicated relationship. The three performances feel like genuine, lived-in characters, even if they are hipsters. They live and experience great pain in these unusual circumstances, without straying from an authentic portrayal of a touching story. Aside from the talent on screen, the film would not be as good as it is without the solid screenplay and the stylish direction by Xavier Dolan, who also turns in a devastating lead performance. The film's technical strengths are also worth mentioning. In several scenes, steadicam shots are slowed down, and we get to float through the scenes with these characters. The film also uses vibrant colors and an electic soundtrack as effective storytelling devices. Overall, it's a technically brilliant little film with great performances and an intriguingly stripped-down story of the relationship between Francis, Marie, and Nicolas. I highly recommend this film, if you haven't seen it. It's one of the best - and most overlooked - movies that 2011 had to offer.

Oscar Tally: None

246. The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell

246. (13 Oct) The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell (2011, Fenton Bailey & Randy Barbato) 50



Indignant, even entitled documentary filmmaking, The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell is an over-edited and often too simplistic look at a policy that deserves a more probing examination. The strength here is interviews with those personally effected by Don't Ask, Don't Tell. The human impact is so much more intriguing than the absurdity of the policy itself, especially since this skips around chronologically and makes broad arguments. It becomes substantially better when it follows the legislative repeal process, at least.

Oscar Campaign Bust #5: J. Edgar

In early 2011, Leonardo DiCaprio was finally going to receive his fourth Oscar nomination, and possibly win the whole thing for his riveting portrayal of J. Edgar Hoover. A full campaign was launched to nab this generally generic biopic a Best Picture nod, and director Clint Eastwood's film looked primed for at least some technical nominations and a nod for Best Actor. The film was pushed on voters, and sometimes that's all you need. As the award season played out, DiCaprio was nominated by the Screen Actors Guild, the Golden Globes, and the Broadcast Film Critics Association. The film even took home top ten awards from the National Board of Review and the American Film Institute. Everything was lined up for Leo. Then the Oscar nominations were announced without his name being called. 

Did it deserve to be nominated? Certainly not for Best Picture (or even Best Makeup), but DiCaprio's performance - one of his best - deserved more consideration. Then again, so did Michael Fassbender's in Shame.

Cult Movie Review: We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

On first blush, We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) is a riveting psychological thriller. However, if you happen to be a parent, you will recognize it as something else: a horror movie.  

The film, directed by Lynne Ramsey, expertly plumbs insecurities not so much about children, but about the role that parents play upon their child’s development and mental health. 

What does it say about you if you bring a monster rather than a man into the world?

And if you do create and shelter a monster, what is your responsibility to that monster, and to society at large?

These are just two of the difficult questions We Need to Talk About Kevinraises. 

What remains so remarkable about the film is how it refuses to provide easy answers about what, precisely, ails Kevin, the child in question.  The movie’s summary description on Amazon.com’s streaming queue describes Kevin in terms like “evil” and “malevolent,” but the truth is much cloudier than that. 

This isn’t a movie about simple labels.

From a certain perspective, Kevin appears to be a sociopath, or at least mentally ill.  He seems to lack a functioning conscience most of the time. The movie provides several Kubrickian shots (like those featured in The Shining [1980] and Full Metal Jacket [1987]) of Kevin glaring up, head titled down, over his furrowed brow.  There’s something primitive, focused, and obsessive in that pose.  It’s the visage of a Neanderthal predator, not the evolved human being we would hope and expect to recognize in our own child.

From another perspective, however, We Need to Talk About Kevin is actually about a kid who wants only to be loved by his emotionally unavailable mother, and who keeps violating family and societal boundaries to pinpoint some – any -- evidence of that love, until finally he goes so far that bloody tragedy ensues.

One image repeated twice in the film – thatof the mother literally transforming into the child and then back to mother again while washing her face in a sink -- suggests that she is partially the cause for Kevin’s anti-social behavior.

Or perhaps that’s how she views the situation in the aftermath of Kevin’s bloody action. Her deep shame has led her to question herself and her actions in a deep and relentless way.  She can’t escape the trap of her own memories, and the opportunities she missed.

We Need to Talk About Kevinis unfailingly gorgeous from a visual standpoint, and commendably ambiguous from a thematic standpoint.  It’s a film that eschews easy answers and thus resonates in the memory.   The film’s powerful symbolism -- largely involving the color red -- is brilliantly and consistently applied, and makes us understand the specific shading of Kevin and Eva’s American tragedy.

“Just because you're used to something doesn't mean you like it. You're used to me.”

Based on a 2003 book of the same title by Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevinoperates on two time-tracks.  In the present, Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) lives alone, tries to hold down a low-paying job at a strip-mall travel agency, and faces her status as pariah or outcast in the community.

In flashbacks, however, we see what events brought Eva to this unpleasant juncture in her life.

We see her fall in love with a man named Franklin (John C. Reilly) at an international tomato festival in Spain.  They make love, and marry, and soon welcome their first child, Kevin. 

Almost from moment one, Eva is remote and distant with her child.  Kevin cries incessantly, and she can’t stand the sound so she walks his baby carriage to construction sites to muffle the noise.   As Kevin grows, Eva is frustrated that he doesn’t speak or respond to her, though he seems to respond in a mostly healthy fashion to Franklin, his father.

One day when Kevin is six (but still not yet potty trained...), Eva breaks the boy’s arm when he intentionally goes to the bathroom in his diapers.  Eva is racked with guilt over her violence, but still, the distance from Kevin remains.  During one conversation about the impending arrival of a baby sister, Kevin suggests that though Eva is used to him, she doesn’t actually like him. 

Eva doesn’t dispute the child’s assessment.

As the years go by, Eva and Franklin grow further estranged, and matters with Kevin grow more troubling.  Although he shows an avid interest in archery, Kevin is still cool (and cruel) to his mother.  When Franklin decides he wants a divorce from Eva, Kevin overhears the discussion, apparently blames himself, and soon cryptically orders metal locks off the Internet in bulk. 

Then, he takes his bow and arrow – as well as the metal locks -- to a high school pep rally…

“Why would I not understand the context? I am the context.” 

We Need to Talk About Kevin’sdirector, Lynne Ramsey, frequently deploys the color red to express the nature of Eva’s life in the film. 

Red is the color of love and vitality and passion, but also the color, importantly, of blood.  The implication seems to be, through the crimson-hued imagery, that the “red” in Eva’s life turns from passion, excitement and freedom to the color of blood and death.  Finally, red becomes the scarlet letter or color of shame and community rage. 

And the thing that changed the color of Eva’s life from joy and freedom to pain and entrapment was the arrival of a son she didn’t really want, and doesn’t really love.

As We Need to Talk About Kevin opens, we see imagery showcasing Eva at the tomato festival in Spain.  She is covered in red tomato sauce, and lifted above a sea of undulating, half-naked bodies as if some kind of primitive fertility goddess.  The impression is of a woman who is totally and completely free.  The tomatoes here could almost be mistaken for flower petals as Eva revels in her glorious, picturesque independence.  Most of those around her are well-built men, stripped-down to the waist.  For at least a moment, she is the focus of their group attention and when raised up, she enjoys it.

Later, after Kevin is born, Eva no longer feels free.  She isn’t getting enough sleep, Kevin never stops crying, and she feels alone and isolated.  She tries to build a sense of “play” or adventure with Kevin, by playing ball with him.   But he doesn’t return or throw back to her the red ball.  There is no connection there; no give and take.  It’s already too late.  Eva’s entreaty for adventure and partnership is rejected by her son because she has demonstrated in her actions a rejection of him.

After Kevin goes on a murderous spree, an act covered in the blood of his classmates, Eva is shunned by her community.

By night, red paint -- symbolic of blood and shame -- is splattered on her house.  The red which once embodied her sense of freedom, now reminds Eva of her mistakes, and of the troubled child she brought into the world.    Now, Eva is put in the position of having to scrub the red -- both the happiness and the pain -- from her life.

At one point in the story, Eva hides in a grocery store from the mother of a deceased teenager -- one killed by Kevin -- and she cowers in front of rows and rows of tomato soup.  It’s a cruel joke and a cruel image.  The woman who reveled in the spilled tomatoes in Spain now cowers in a world of canned tomatoes. 

Like Eva, the (red) tomatoes have gone from representing freedom to symbolizing containment.

The color red shows up elsewhere in the film as well.  There are red chairs lining the wall of the strip-mall real estate agency where Eva works, a subtle reminder of the joy she once felt that is now reduced to mere furniture in a place that promises dreams. 

There’s also a shot of a half-eaten red apple and a red candle in Eva’s house, a visual representation of the fact that she can’t have freedom anymore because she has eaten the apple; the fruit from the tree of knowledge.  In other words, Eva knows what Kevin is.  And she knows what role she played in inflicting Kevin upon society.

Red is freedom at the tomato festival.

Red is freedom rejected.

Red is the scarlet letter of community shame.

You can't wash the stain of red away.

The (red) fruit of knowledge can't be un-learned.

Cruel irony: Eva now hides behind canned tomatoes...

There are other powerful images in We Need to Talk About Kevin, even beyond the use of the color red.  For instance, Eva constantly attempts to create a space for herself where she can relive the freedom she enjoyed before getting married and giving birth to Kevin.  She decorates a “special place” for herself in the family’s fancy McMansion: a room filled in every corner with detailed maps.  These are memories of places she has traveled, and a promise that she will travel there again, one day.

Even Eva’s job -- at a travel agency -- speaks of her desire to travel, and to be untethered from the responsibilities of family and Kevin.  She gazes longingly at destinations far, far away.

Also, Eva is depicted on a book-signing poster with the term “Legendary Adventurer.”  That particular composition is especially interesting because it is, again, surrounded by instances of red.  And when Kevin stands in front of it, his red sweatshirt supersedes it, replacing vitality and passion with horror and shame.

Kevin knows his Mom wants to escape, a fact symbolized by her room of maps.

Kevin (wearing red) countenances his mother's desire to escape again.

The desire to escape is reduced to making the dreams of others come true. (Notice the red chairs).

What are we to make of all this? 

We Need to Talk About Kevinprovides many clues, but no direct answers.  There is a scene mid-way through the film wherein a very young Kevin spikes a fever and is suddenly rendered normal for an agonizingly short span. 

During his fever, he shows kindness, and reveals real love for his mother.  It is the first sign of a connection between them.  This scene suggests that Kevin’s damaged mental status is the real culprit here.

This development in the film reflects what has been termed a “eureka” moment in studies of Autism.  As was reported in 2009 by Jeffrey Kluger (Time: “Why Fever Helps Autism: A New Theory”): “Generations of parents of autistic kids have reported that when their child runs a fever, the symptoms of autism seem to abate.  When the fever goes down, the symptoms return.”

So this short, bittersweet scene suggests that Kevin is not wired correctly, and therefore a physiological condition is responsible for his demeanor and behavior, not Eva.

A fever returns Kevin to normal, although only briefly...

Contrarily, Eva clearly doesn’t want Kevin in her life, and doesn’t want to make accommodations for him.  She doesn’t affirm that she loves him on at least three important occasions, and can’t seem to escape the doldrums of “why me-ism” enough to attempt to reach out, or get Kevin the help he needs.   

The film makes a big point of providing Eva and Kevin nearly identical haircuts, and reveals that both are extremely judgmental about others (as witnessed at an afternoon miniature golf outing).  The point is not only that Eva doesn’t love Kevin, but that he has inherited from her some terrible qualities. In some ways, Eva seems as cold and emotional as Kevin does.

This movie is called We Need to Talk About Kevin, and yet, throughout the film, his parents never talk substantively about Kevin at all. 

His parents don’t discipline him effectively (if at all), and they never discuss with one another if their son should see a therapist, or be counseled for his anti-social tendencies.  This is where real parental responsibility comes in, and in the movie’s title we detect the narrative’s most important takeaway.

If you suspect your child is dangerous, you have a responsibility to both help that child with his or her condition, and make certain that society at large and other children are safe.  

This is where Eva really fails any reasonable test of parenthood.  She believes that Kevin intentionally injures his sister and kills her pet guinea pig, yet she can’t be roused from her doldrums of victimhood and entrapment to do anything about it.  You can’t blame Eva for being sad about her life, any more than you can blame Kevin for possessing a mental illness, but you can blame Eva (and her husband, Franklin) for not doing more to assure that their child is not a danger to the community.

Eva knows what Kevin is but does nothing to stop him or get him help.  All she sees is her own, ongoing entrapment and persistent victimhood.

The portions of the film that take place after Kevin’s murder spree reveal Eva’s deep shame and guilt about her failures.  She must live with her mistakes, as Kevin must certainly live with his.  Ironically, when film ends, Eva and Kevin are finally joined, but not necessarily through love.

Rather, they are joined through guilt. 

The emotional bond that they never shared begins in earnest only after society has rendered (a mutual) judgment.  They find one another only when everyone else has rejected them both.

What’s the point of We Need to Talk About Kevin’s even-handedness in considering what factors “made” Kevin? 

Well, as Kevin himself says, the point is that there isn’t one.  The point is not to blame, but to make sure that everyone is safe.

Lives are shattered and destroyed, and there is no one person at which to point the finger of blame, or ultimate responsibility.    In our culture, we believe parents are important.  And yet we also believe that, at some point, people must take responsibility for their own actions.  So when we ask “what went wrong?” there’s a split decision.

This is an equation we, as Americans, have seen again and again.  Read a book like Dave Cullen’s excellent Columbine(2010) and one gains a sense of sympathy for the parents of the school shooters.  You know they have gone through absolute, unending Hell.  And yet, by the same token, you wonder why they didn’t do anything about their children beforehand, when the warning signs -- as is the case in this movie -- were abundantly clear. 

If there is a point here, it’s that parents must not, in the day-to-day hustle of job, family and other responsibilities, forget that they live in a larger world.  They have obligations not just to their children, but to the children of others.  

Someone really did need to talk about Kevin, before it was too late.

Review: A Separation (2011)

Leila Hatami and Peyman Moadi in this powerful drama.

Directed by Asghar Farhadi
Produced by Asghar Farhadi
Written by Asghar Farhadi
Starring Leila Hatami, Peyman Moadi, Shahab Hosseini, Saren Bayat, Sarina Farhadi, Babak Karimi, Ali-Asghar Shahbazi, Shirin Yazdanbakhsh, Kimia Hosseini, and Merila Zarei

****

In Asghar Farhadi's Oscar-winning drama, two families collide when a murder charge is brought against Nader (Moadi), the father of one of them. Razieh (Bayat), who cared for Nader's senile father (Shahbazi) for a few days, had a miscarriage right after she was fired. The question is: Did she lose the child when Nader argued with her for tying his father up and abandoning him? Or, did she lose the baby some other way? Razieh and her husband Hojjat (S. Hosseini) claim that Nader pushed her, causing her to fall, and has committed murder. Nader, meanwhile, brings charges against Razieh for the abuse of his father. In the midst of this legal battle, Nader is living with his daughter Termeh (Farhadi) and ill father, while his wife Simin (Hatami) is seeking a divorce and wants to take their daughter away. So, who is telling the truth, if anybody, about the argument and the miscarriage? Facts are twisted and covered up, as the families try to reconcile their desperate situations.

As the material would suggest, this film is brimming with emotions and features sublime performances from the ensemble cast. Farhadi relies on the actors and his unyielding script to achieve the desired dramatic intensity. There are no tricks, no gimmicks, as he has no need to show off. The soundtrack is very quiet, and the handheld camerawork is unobtrusive, putting the burden on the performers to convey the director's vision. All of the actors truly live on screen in these roles, which is the highest praise I can give. With the great number of emotional scenes in the film, they are so natural, so unperturbed by the requirements of this intense story. Instead of jumping off the screen and declaring "I'm acting here! I'm acting here!" (I'm looking at you, Daniel Day-Lewis), each performer lends a wonderful authenticity to his or her character, playing these moments as genuine crises rather than cheap imitations thereof. This remarkable film is packed with great drama and top-notch performances, and it proves to be one of last year's best films.

Oscar Tally: Nomination for Best Original Screenplay; Win for Best Foreign Language Film

191. Real Steel

191. (06 Sep) Real Steel (2011, Shawn Levy) 23



I'm not clear how Real Steel has neither heart nor humor considering it's trying desperately to have both. Attempting to stack the deck with a down on his luck kid and parental bonding, Shawn Levy has no clue how to make his film in any way relatable. Headache-inducingly loud and garish, the fight scenes are so predictable there's really no way to derive pleasure from them. The script heaps on clichés so steadily that most scenes collapse from their top-heaviness. We're offered only the stupidest of surprises like a robot dance routine.

The acting is among the worst I've ever seen in film with this kind of budget. Dakota Goyo is the most awful child actor to come along since Jake Lloyd in The Phantom Menace. Evangeline Lilly is so humiliatingly amateurish you'd think she wandered out of a community theater. To his credit, Hugh Jackman is at least a certifiable leading man. His too brief shirtless scene is the only time there's any energy eminating from the screen.

The Oscar-nominated visual effects are okay, but truly nothing special. Motion capture and robot effects are common and Real Steel offers nothing in the way of newness.

Oscar Scenes That Weren't: 2011

A victim of the snub.

Let's face it: the Academy Awards always snub one if not dozens of performances every year. Here are five scenes that should've (or could've) been nomination-worthy. Essentially, these are the scenes that probably would've been played at the Oscar ceremony when the nominee's name was read. (Granted, I had to work with what I could find online.)

Note: Performances like those of Fassbender (Shame), Swinton (We Need to Talk About Kevin), Shannon (Take Shelter), Harrelson (Rampart), Theron (Young Adult), Pitt (The Tree of Life), Paquin (Margaret), and Binoche (Certified Copy) aren't mentioned because most, if not all, of those are popular snubs.

In no particular order (possible spoilers):

1. Tom Hardy/Joel Edgerton, Warrior

2. Paul Bettany, Margin Call

3. Jessica Chastain, Take Shelter*

4. Peter Mullan, Tyrannosaur

5. Melanie Laurent, Beginners

*Though she was nominated for The Help, I prefer this performance. And what a scene that is.

147. The Song of Lunch

147. (08 Aug) The Song of Lunch (2011, Niall MacCormick) 54



Christopher Reid's poem about former lovers who meet for an uncomfortable and revealing lunch translates awkwardly to the screen. Even at 50 minutes, MacCormick's adaptation is more pretentious than enlightening. Alan Rickman is unappealing as the male lead, making it difficult to fathom Emma Thompson ever having loved him. His lengthy voiceovers quickly become tiresome. Thompson, fortunately, is incandescent. She has few lines here, but demonstrates what genuine star power can do for an otherwise lackluster production.

145. Luther

145. (06 Aug) Luther (2011, Sam Miller) 58



Pared down to four episodes from six in its first season, this Luther is markedly improved by its leaner, more unnerving storytelling. Not surprisingly, director Sam Miller delivered the best episodes from season one. His understanding of genre filmmaking is outstanding. He lands jump scares like a pro and takes very visually inventive approaches.

Neil Cross's writing is as silly as ever though. His plotting is questionable and the twists never pay off quite as well as they should. He shoehorns Ruth Wilson back into this season and, while she's in solid form, her character is a liability.

Idris Elba is incredibly comfortable in the role of John Luther now. If he was the best thing about the first season, he's now carrying every scene on capable shoulders.

140. Page Eight

140. (25 Jul) Page Eight (2011, David Hare) 52



Though David Hare has a genuine knack for snappy dialogue and developed characterizations, Page Eight efforts to work as a romance and thriller keep it from rising above mediocrity. The acting is rather excellent even as plot twists fail to compel. Though her Emmy nomination is almost certainly from name recognition, Judy Davis makes the most of limited screentime. She, Ralph Fiennes, and Michael Gambon all make incredible impacts in supporting roles.

Review: Margaret (2011)

Anna Paquin as Lisa Cohen

Directed by Kenneth Lonergan
Produced by Gary Gilbert, Sydney Pollack, and Scott Rudin
Written by Kenneth Lonergan
Starring Anna Paquin, J. Smith-Cameron, Jean Reno, Jeannie Berlin, Allison Janney, Matthew Broderick, Mark Ruffalo, and Matt Damon

****

After years of legal delays with the studio, Kenneth Lonergan's masterful film is finally available for purchase, including his 3-hour version and the studio's 2 1/2 hour cut. This drama revolves around Lisa Cohen (Paquin), who is living in post-9/11 New York. She is an opinionated, high-strung teenager struggling to exist in a world of corrupt politics and terrorism. When she inadvertently causes a bus accident that kills a woman (Janney), Lisa alters her story to the police on the scene because she wants to protect the driver (Ruffalo), and she feels as though it is the right thing to do. This mistake weighs on her until she seeks legal action against the driver and the bus company with the aid of the deceased woman's friend Emily (Berlin) and her cousin. While this is going on, her relationship with her mother Joan (Smith-Cameron) deteriorates, and she becomes angrier at the whole situation and the state of the world. On top of everything else, Lisa faces a harsh reality when the case is settled without the result she wanted in the first place, and she is forced to live with the consequences of her actions, as she tries to put her life back together.

This chopped-up masterpiece surprisingly benefits from the studio's tampering, as the theatrical cut fits the back-and-forth movements of the narrative better than Lonergan's longer, more fluid version. Paquin gives a career-best performance, and the entire supporting cast (especially Smith-Cameron and Berlin) are quite good. As Lisa, Paquin lets her character's emotions explode onto the screen, depicting her vulnerability and bewilderment in a rare and incredibly moving feat. Joan and Emily are more world-weary characters that Smith-Cameron and Berlin play with such ease and such heartache. Damon as Lisa's laid-back teacher and Ruffalo as the driver are solid as usual, and Lonergan himself gives a nice supporting performance as Lisa's father. Aside from the exeptional performances, this film also features a writer/director effort from Lonergan that is spot on. Rather than preaching to the viewer, he allows the story unfold, as we watch these people try to relate to one another, to figure it all out. Time removed from the film has only enhanced my love for it. Although it is not without its faults, the film remains a dramatic tour de force by Lonergan and company. Seeing it would be no mistake, even if you only see the theatrical version. It might be the best thing you'll see for quite awhile.

Oscar Tally: None (Sadly.)

127. The Hollywood Complex

127. (16 Jun) The Hollywood Complex (2011, Dylan Nelson & Dan Sturman) 60

For the love of God, somebody give all these people a reality show. This unnerving look at child actors who come to Los Angeles for pilot season is disturbing and utterly engrossing. Presley Cash and her mother, in particular, are character so large they'd merit an unmissable series on Lifetime.

125. American Horror Story

125. (13 Jun) American Horror Story (2011, Ryan Murphy, Alfonso Gomez-Rejon, Bradley Buecker, David Semel, Michael Uppendahl, Tim Hunter, Miguel Areta, John Scott & Michael Lehman) 51

Including this first season of American Horror Story in my screening log feels like cheating, but as the show has opted to scam the Emmys by competing as a miniseries it's fallen under my policy to review so-called limited series. My rating is inexplicably generous since the show is so poorly constructed and photographed; I will invariably regret it when it comes time to rank the Emmy nominees.

However, there's something to be said for a work that's made me absolutely adore Jessica Lange. Her only performance, beyond this one, I'd fully embraced was in Normal. Perhaps it's that her unsubtle style is best suited for the small screen. She sinks her teeth into this role like it's a long lost Tennessee Williams play, camping it up shamelessly and grounding a premise that's precariously shaky.

Zachary Quinto is the only thing that's outright bad here besides much of the writing and direction. Connie Britton, Frances Conroy and Teddy Sears are worth noting.

123. Planet Dinosaur

123. (03 Jun) Planet Dinosaur (2011, Nigel Paterson) 63

A worthy successor to Walking with Dinosaurs, this genial six-part documentary series looks better than anything of the like ever to air on television. Bringing rare and recent discoveries to life, it's a fun, if embarrassingly educational way to spend a day.

Best of the Best: The Kings Speech vs. The Artist

BEST OF THE BEST

I've decided to try something new here at the Oscars Project. It's something I've entitled "Best of the Best". I'm going to pit 2 Best Pictures against each other, and lay out who I think would win. I'll try to make it as random and unbiased as possible. Sometimes I'll pit similar films against each other, sometimes old vs recent, sometimes I'll randomly select 2 films.

To start it off, I thought I'd do something recent, and relevant. The King's Speech (2010) vs. The Artist (2011). To me these 2 films are, in a way, similar. Both are about a man struggling with finding his voice. While Bertie, in the King's Speech was thrust into the limelight or being a King, George, in the Artist, was highly regarded and was suddenly cast down. Both are about a man's journey as he finds where he's meant to be, and finds their voice. Both learn to "speak".

The King's Speech was met with critical acclaim. It was first shown at the Telluride Film Festival, but really got it's start just a little bit later in September at the Toronto International Film Festival where it got a standing ovation and won the People's Choice Award. From there it picked up steam. However, when it came to awards season, there was another movie that came along. The Social Network. Most of the awards were pretty split between TKS and TSN. However, many called The King's Speech an Oscar-bait film, being a period piece, a true story, and about British Royalty, with a dab of WWII. It was also deemed a "feel good" film, many people saying it is a good thing, and others, not so much. While it sits with a 95% on Rotten Tomatoes, many also felt it was the "safe" choice that year, beating out edgier films like The Social Network and Black Swan.

Aside from that, the King's Speech gave some incredible performances. Colin Firth picked up his first Oscar for the performance, and rightly so. He played the stuttering future King Bertie to perfection, and made us feel empathetic. He was able to capture the humor, but also the sorrow of the situation delightfully. Geoffrey Rush was also nominated, and did a splendid performance as Bertie's speech coach, Lionel. He was quirky and spunky, but was brave and honest. Helena Bonham Carter was charming and a bit snooty, but very loving. Also nominated.

The Artist, on the other hand, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2011 and is a silent, black and white film. Jean Dujardin won the Best Actor Award, and the film was nominated for the Palme d'Or. The film was popular in many Film festivals, and when it came to Awards Season, the movie picked up tons of awards, with no real "second place" movie. It sits with a 98% on Rotten Tomatoes. And while it was extremely popular, many called it "gimmicky", because of it being a silent films, shot in the aspect ratios of the 20s/30s, and being in black and white. They said the story was a mix of Singin' In the Rain, and A Star is Born, and that it wasn't very original, and was predictable. Another film that was deemed Oscar-bait, for being different and not being "very daring".  However, the music, the performances, the costumes, were all praised. Jean Dujardin spent most of the season in a tight race with  George Clooney for Best Actor, but won out on Oscar Night.

Being silent, the performances and the music were on a pretty high expectation. The music would have to carry the film in a way that sound movies don't. And the actors would have to express everything without talking. However, these worries were quickly set aside. Jean Dujardin, who plays the charming George Valentin, looks as though he really is from another era. He has the most expressive face, and has such a smile. And his little mustache! You'd think you were actually watching a movie from the 1930s. Berenice Bejo, additionally, was so phenomenal. She was perky and peppy (excuse the pun), and just a bubble of fun. You'd believe she really was a film star from the silent days.

But who wins? Both films had similar complaints laid against them. They were too feel good, they were too safe, and the performances were stronger than the story line. The films were even nominated for the same things. The Artist, having 10 nominations, and the King's Speech having 12, all 10 that The Artist was nominated for, The King's Speech was too (the only difference being screenplay and supporting actor).

What the King's Speech has going for it is the performances. Colin Firth is thrilling and perfect, and Geoffrey Rush is great. What the Artist has going for it is the performances, and the fact that it's a silent film, in black and white.

Verdict: I think the Artist is going to take this one. (Though I enjoy The King's Speech more than The Artist, though I love them both)

Not only was it more loved than The King's Speech, but it also had no other competition that year, like The King's Speech had The Social Network. The Artist is a lot more different than The King's Speech, and it did something unique. How can a cute, well-acted and directed film, that's silent and b&w lose? It's something that sticks out in your mind a bit more than a period piece about a British Monarch. However, I'd say that Colin Firth would beat out Jean Dujardin. Dujardin was great, but Firth truly, truly nailed it for me.

Sound off in the comments if you agree/disagree. Did I pick the right winner? For the right reasons? Or was I completely off? You let me know!
Or if you have suggestions for next time's Best of the Best, write them down there too.