013. Beasts of the Southern Wild

013. (19 Jan) Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012, Behn Zeitlin) 31



What a terrible bunch of Oscar nominations! You could point a camera at most petulant children and get a variation on Quvenzhané Wallis' performance, if you can call it that. Nearly as bad is the screenplay nod. Most dialogue, like a sea captain telling Hushpuppy he saves the wrappers for his chicken biscuits to remember he was a different person each time he unwrapped them, is downright embarrassing. Benh Zeitlin's nomination is bad, but at least makes sense as the film is clearly over-directed. He intercuts shaky, but occasionally visually interesting shots with clumsy visual metaphors (i.e. the titular beasts, melting glaciers).

I'm not one to use the phrase "poverty porn," but from the sadsack opening shot of a trailer onward, it certainly fits. Beasts barely introduces its ill-defined ensemble in their bleak world before jumping from scene to scene with no sense of coherence. Most bits are grating, but the inability to establish settings or story gets exhausting by the time the gang try to escape a hospital where they're being fed and given medical treatment. Still, more of a "Best Picture" than Les Miserables.

337. The Impossible

337. (29 Dec) The Impossible (2012, Juan Antonio Bayona) 76

334. Amour

334. (27 Dec) Amour (2012, Michael Haneke) 60



I'm reminded of the line from Bergman's Face to Face where Liv Ullmann watches her grandmother sitting by her grandfather's deathbed and laments, "For a brief moment, I realized that love embraces everything. Even death." That more probing, albeit obvious work tackling similar subject matter is far more moving and fascinating than the overly restrained Amour. That's not to say this doesn't have its own share of obvious imagery or commentary, with one particularly dopey dream sequence. Nevertheless, this is certain to resonate with anyone familiar with the hardships of elder care. Few films have shown the frustrating, debilitating nature of aging so artfully. Haneke knows very well what he's doing here, but this seems like a minor work for a man who's capable of so much more than a slow, sorrowful character study. Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are underwhelming in their roles.

305. Zero Dark Thirty

305. (08 Dec) Zero Dark Thirty (2012, Kathryn Bigelow)* 83



Terse, intelligent and exhilarating, it's hard not to be a little in awe of Zero Dark Thirty's confidence and competence. From the opening series of scenes about torture, it's clear this is constructing a thoughtful, even defining dialogue on the limitless complexity of the war on terror. Offering no easy answers and sticking us with an unsociable, obsessive main character, this has all the urgency and understanding that's been lacking from post-9/11 works about terror (e.g. United 93).

Jessica Chastain's Maya is the perfect fit for this narrative. From her steely resolve to her all-consuming need to kill bin Laden, she's endlessly fascinating. Her steady, rather devastating arc is done so much justice by Chastain, one can only pray she takes home the Best Actress Oscar.

The sheer leanness of Zero Dark Thirty is perhaps what it's easiest to marvel at. Mark Boal's The Hurt Locker script was laden with filler scenes, but there's not a wasted moment here. It's all in service to the theme of military intelligence coming at a high price for all involved, and that even good information can mean nothing without intuition and judgment.

The final sequence at the bin Laden compound should be enough to assure this a couple Oscars for sound work and a deserving nomination for Greig Fraser's cinematography. Alexandre Desplat's score is his umpteenth stroke of genius from recent years.

277. Silver Linings Playbook

277. (17 Nov) Silver Linings Playbook (2012, David O. Russell)* 31



Grating and mind-numbingly pandering, there's not a single genuine moment to be found in Silver Linings Playbook. There is, at least, the effervescent presence of Jennifer Lawrence, who at least elevates every scene she's in. But she's the only one bringing nuanced work alongside actors who are pure caricature. Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver, in particular, could hardly be in worse form, offering performances without the slightest hint of humanity in them.

David O. Russell's script is pure amateurism. He feels the need to cram all of his small ensemble into every scene, even when they have no place there (e.g. the psychiatrist at the football game, the cop at the dance competition). This gives the false sense that people from all walks of life are bonding when, in fact, this underscores the phoniness. And what could be further from reality when, out of nowhere, someone shouts to a busload of Philadelphia Eagles fans who happen to be Indian, "Go back to your own country! The Eagles are our team!"

The gags here are about as subtle, revolving around something as stupid as a mispronunciation of Trazodone. The so-called drama includes a manic episode where Cooper freaks out about his missing wedding video. Such scenes are painfully out of place considering the serious tonal shift it requires from broad comedy, but it emphasizes just how bad Cooper is in the lead. It's all the more reason why I'm certainly overrating Lawrence, who at least can read a line without seeming like she's in a high school play.

136. Suddenly, Last Summer

136. (11 Jul) /Suddenly, Last Summer/ (1959, Joseph L. Mankiewicz) 74



My assessment of this on a previous viewing seems right on target. Repeat viewings just emphasize how astounding Hepburn's first and Taylor's last scenes are.

059. Sunrise at Campobello

059. (19 Feb) Sunrise at Campobello (1960, Vincent J. Donehue) 36



Vincent J. Donehue seems painfully reverential toward his Broadway staging of Sunrise at Campobello. FDR's battle against polio as he pursues politics is far less dramatically compelling than you'd think. The problem's amplified because the film very rarely feels cinematic, confining itself to flat-looking interiors while all the performers shamelessly chew the scenery.

Ralph Bellamy and Hume Cronyn are in especially bad form, boisterously enunciating like they're trying to be heard in the last row of the theater. Greer Garson seems more comfortable, though her voice and prosthetic teeth never seem less than gimmicky. She has a powerhouse crying scene at a pivotal point in the film, giving her an impressive Oscar clip in an otherwise middling performance.

The Art Direction and Costume Design nods are a bit strange (though some others from 1960 are as wacky) since this monochromatic 1920s look has rarely looked so dull. The Sound nomination is insane; there's almost nothing here beyond dialogue.

027. The Constant Nymph

027. (22 Jan) The Constant Nymph (1943, Edmund Goulding) 56



The 26-year-old Joan Fontaine doesn't just rise to the challenge of playing a 14-year-old, she never makes you doubt the age for a second. Her performance is a ball of pure energy as she bounds up and down stairs and unconsciously throws her body about without a care. It's hard to imagine anyone accomplishing what Fontaine did in '43 on a physical level. Thanks to Fontaine, you also get every bit a sense of the kind of hopeless romanticism that comes with youth. Even with a charismatic presence like Charles Boyer sharing the screen, Fontaine's performance is so magnetic and thoughtful, it's impossible to focus on anyone else. It's a genuine star turn.

The film itself is a bit more jumbled. Goulding uses some amazing tracking shots, foreshadows like a pro, and makes the most of the film's melodramatic plot. But there's too much story to unravel over the runtime. It also doesn't help that the difference in age between Fontaine and Boyer's characters constitutes an illegal relationship.

012. The Iron Lady

012. (10 Jan) /The Iron Lady/ (2011, Phyllida Lloyd) 46



Considerably dumber on the second go-around, it's at least easier to appreciate how very much Meryl does to better The Iron Lady. There's so little done to both establish Thatcher as a person and political figure. Even the decisive idea of having Thatcher hallucinate her dead husband is absolutely dreadful. At least I can give Oscars to Streep and the makeup.

490. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

490. (08 Dec) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011, David Fincher)* 74

475. Albert Nobbs

475. (23 Nov) Albert Nobbs (2011, Rodrigo Garcia) 51



Not since Barbra Streisand in Yentl has there been a less convincing actress masquerading as a man than Glenn Close. Janet McTeer very slightly completes the illusion better. There are emotionally effective moments in Albert Nobbs, all of them due to Close letting some emotion break through an otherwise stoic character. She won't win the Oscar and shouldn't, but it's a performance that has its share of nuance and success.

Mia Wasikowska is in dreadful form and former model Aaron Johnson is completely inappropriate casting for a 19th century period piece since his shirt comes off. Their romantic subplot is a major inconvenience to the film. For the most part, it's a competent enough film about the miserably high price of repression. In the hands of Ang Lee, it might have been noteworthy.

466. The Iron Lady

466. (17 Nov) The Iron Lady (2011, Phyllida Lloyd)* 59



A biopic on the opposite spectrum from this year's J. Edgar, The Iron Lady asks no hard questions about Margaret Thatcher. It's oddly reverential and even more strangely structured. A too-large chunk of the film has a senile, elderly Thatcher hallucinating her dead husband. It leads to all kinds of clumsy flashbacks and does little to illuminate who Thatcher was.

Essentially, the film is a Cliff's Notes version of her life and career. The only reason why it succeeds at all is because of a dazzling star turn by Meryl Streep. She often carries entire movies, but she's usually assisted by a large ensemble. That's not the case here. She carries the whole thing on her own, transforming totally into Thatcher. Whatever insight is gained into the woman is brought by Streep. Her performance is warm, witty, and has a definite edge. She camps it up appropriately considering the humor found in the script. It's a testament to just what kind of miracles she can work.

463. My Week with Marilyn

463. (13 Nov) My Week with Marilyn (2011, Simon Curtis)* 56



While Kenneth Branagh and Julia Ormond are completely unbelievable as Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, Michelle Williams immediately convinces us she's inhabiting the role of Marilyn Monroe. She gets everything right, particularly Marilyn's deer in the headlights look. Singing her own songs and recreating some iconic moments, it's easy to see how she got into the Best Actress discussion early on.

The film itself isn't much to speak of. Joyce Carol Oates' novel Blonde would've been better to adapt since this offers only so much insight and ultimately is just a tired celebrity encounter story. But for what it is, it's an enjoyable look into a bygone era of filmmaking. Oddly enough, the film never feels cinematic. All those comparisons to TV movies are apt. Eddie Redmayne and Judi Dench also offer worthwhile performances.

408. The Help

408. (03 Sep) The Help (2011, Tate Taylor)* 54



The Help is so cloying and manipulative, it's almost implausible a performance like Viola Davis' can exist within it. The film simply doesn't deserve her, as Davis gives a performance with such grace and nuance the rest of the cast looks amateurish in her wake. The bug-eyed Octavia Spencer, for instance, is positively exhausting to watch, playing broad comedy as if she wandered out of a TBS sitcom. I'm unclear how both of these ladies can be considered on par in Oscar buzz.

The film itself is so shamelessly tear-jerking, sentimental, and crowd-pleasing, it seems destined for a Best Picture nomination. That's an excessive honor, to be sure, for a film that overplays a poopy pie joke and derails in its unrelentingly upbeat finale. (A senile Sissy Spacek saying she can only remember that she was put in a nursing home by Bryce Dallas Howard and that her daughter ate poop is where the gag has clearly been beaten to death.) The lengthy run-time is felt in the last hour when an out of nowhere argument erupts between Emma Stone and Chris Lowell. For the most part, The Help is well-structured enough to maintain interest, but the need to tie up loose ends with the last few scenes is the film's undoing.

Sharen Davis' costumes would be a worthy awards competitor. A plaid jacket Lowell wears in his second scene with Stone is an outstanding costumes and all of the work here easily outshines her forgettable garbs from Ray and Dreamgirls. She rivals Anna B. Sheppard as one of those costume designers with no range, but she's in her wheelhouse with The Help.