043. Kismet

043. (30 Jan) Kismet (1944, William Dieterle) 18



I have a decidedly low tolerance for these '40s forays into exoticism, full of tanned white actors and soundstages that all run together. Especially odd is how Kismet is about as dull as an adventure in a foreign land gets. Marlene Dietrich occasionally breathes life into this, like during an endless dance sequence, but she's not given much to do. The cinematography is vibrant and the score tries to make this more rousing than it is; those are both worthy Oscar nominations. The nods for art direction and sound are totally unnecessary.

311. Les Miserables

311. (15 Dec) Les Miserables (2012, Tom Hooper)* 28



Midway through act two, Hugh Jackman and Eddie Redmayne quite literally are up to their necks in fecal matter. That Les Miserables willfully offers that metaphor makes it the ballsiest or most clueless film of the year. Considering how dreadful it is, I'm leaning toward the latter.

There's not an iota of scale in Les Miserables, with roughly four wide shots that so much as hint that this is a historical epic in its entire bloated runtime. Just like in The King's Speech, Tom Hooper's amateurish aesthetic undermines every moment. Here he's as reliant on dutch angles as he is on dopey framing, keeping heads in the corner of a shot while negative space dominates the background. It's one of the worst photographed major studio films I've seen. But there's simply not much to work with since the sets and costumes are decidedly unremarkable. When Les Miz is not irritating to look at, it's boring.

Tom Hooper's direction is astoundingly misguided. Without dialogue, he relies on the score to tell the story. Unfortunately, only five musical numbers are at all good. Most of the talk-singing is instantly forgettable (namely the added and useless tune "Suddenly"). The nasally Hugh Jackman and overly emotive Samantha Barks are shameful standouts in the cast. Russell Crowe channels Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia! Eddie Redmayne and Amanda Seyfriend, without a hint of romantic chemistry, are wasted vocal talents. The much discussed Anne Hathaway is the only performer to give emotional impact to the film at all, overplaying her part, but at least not embarrassing herself in an intense close-up during "I Dreamed a Dream."

Hooper has suggested he attempted to emulate West Side Story, at least during "One More Day," which shows how ambitious and incompetent he is. His shoddily edited film not only is totally incoherent, unmoving, and uninteresting, it's laughable. Crowe's biggest dramatic moment is the most obvious joke, but it's impossible to enumerate the goofs in a film where next to nothing works. Empty heads and empty filmmaking.

297. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

297. (02 Dec) The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012, Peter Jackson) 45



I wouldn't see another film projected at 48 fps if I were held at gunpoint. In the state of the art venue I saw The Hobbit, the film looked like it was being screened in fast-motion. It was distractingly cartoonish and never managed to trick the eye in the way 24 fps does.

Issues with the projection aside, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is deeply problematic despite the artistry of its production design, effects and sound work. This story is too episodic, tonally defunct and overloaded with action scenes to ever draw us in. Unable to create a relatable ensemble, Jackson and company rely on The Lord of the Rings nostalgia at every turn to keep us engaged. From Howard Shore's familiar musical themes to Cate Blanchett's unnecessary cameo, it's a reminder that the other films always felt more cohesive and accomplished than this ever does.

The nature of J.R.R. Tolkien's book is no small part of the problem. Overloaded with characters and featuring a death toll in the thousands as our heroes barely manage a scratch, it's hard to be involved when there's no hint of danger. An overuse of CGI and gimmicky 3D effects establish an aesthetic that matches a video game-like plot where characters survive against all probable odds. A scene involving rock monsters, for instance, looks stunning, but would clearly result in the death of every character if this has the slightest notion of reality. Even fantasy needs some credibility.

The high points here are Andy Serkis's return as Gollum and Martin Freeman's deadpan delivery of some solid one-liners. The low points include oafish musical numbers and undercooked villains that emphasize how segmented the story is.

280. Life of Pi

280. (20 Nov) Life of Pi (2012, Ang Lee)* 49



Ang Lee regresses with Life of Pi, exploring his trademark themes of repression and grief in a most literal sense. Even his obvious fades and a reliance on cheap imagery like a slow teardrop streaming down someone's face suggest the aesthetic of a director less developed than Lee. Claudio Miranda's cinematography and the visual effects are undeniably stunning, but they serve a narrative that's never emotionally involving or particularly interesting. David Magee's screenplay is a redundancy since he employed all the same tricks, to similarly hackish effect, in Finding Neverland. The ending serves as a ten-minute third act, dissolving all enchantment away from Life of Pi once and for all.

278. Anna Karenina

278. (18 Nov) Anna Karenina (2012, Joe Wright)* 74



Though it works better in segments than as a whole, it's hard not to be swept away by Joe Wright's rapturous Anna Karenina. It's a film of which my opinion evolves the more I think on it. Will there be something more breathtaking or perfect as the ball when Anna and Vronsky first dance? I can say now nothing could, or at least should, hope to rival it for the Production Design and Costume Design Oscars.

Joe Wright and Tom Stoppard's adaptation, for all its artifice, gets quite to the heart of Tolstoy's work. There's a passion for the characters and narrative here that makes it irrelevant that a dense, sprawling novel has been condensed into two hours. The quickly shifting set pieces and beautiful segues of sight and sound make the movement completely fluid. Combine that with a strong core performance by Kiera Knightley and Dario Marianelli's evocative score and it's clear there could be no better or more inherently cinematic telling of this story.

268. Lincoln

268. (10 Nov) Lincoln (2012, Steven Spielberg)* 51



With their decisively titled Lincoln, Spielberg and company have invited the expectation that this will be the definitive film about the man's life and work. This is no sweeping biopic, however, as it narrowly focuses on his efforts to get the 13th Amendment through the House of Representatives. The confinement in time, along with Tony Kushner's careful selections of scenes, the right dramatic moments, and a surprising amount of humor keep this reined in. But other than a superb performance from Daniel Day-Lewis, this in no other way lives up to an overly ambitious title.

Spielberg attempts to play silly tricks on us, trying to draw suspense out of the final House of Representatives vote, for instance, which plays like we're watching C-SPAN more than anything else. A far more questionable decision comes when we're misled into thinking we're at Ford's Theater at the moment of assassination when in fact we're at another theater entirely.

Kushner understandably has to inject expository dialogue here and there, but it's often shockingly clumsy. Scenes with Sally Field, as a thoroughly unconvincing Mary Todd Lincoln, are full of bits where she explains something that's happened in years past, from her buggy accident to the death of their son. It places on undue burden on Field, who has to enlighten us on critical history that would be far more compelling if it had played out on-screen.

The cast is a mixed bag. Tommy Lee Jones and Lee Pace are the strongest scene stealers. Many smaller roles are downright distracting, notably appearances by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Adam Driver and S. Epatha Merkerson. Work by Michael Stuhlburg and Walton Goggins is shamefully lacking in nuance.

To Lincoln's credit, the film mostly make efforts not to be too much a revisionist history. Only a dopey moment where Mary Todd and Abraham chat about how history will remember them, near the film's end, feels totally unnecessary. Injecting African-American characters into a story that might otherwise have only been about white people granting equality is also well-advised.

In terms of crafts, Janusz Kaminski's cinematography looks like something you'd see on the History Channel. A handful of sets stand out, but the costumes are wholly unremarkable. John Williams has composed a subdued score that reminds me just how shameless and boisterous his work on War Horse was.

143. The Abyss

143. (29 Jul) /The Abyss/ (1989, James Cameron) 79



As anxiety-producing as ever, The Abyss has such fantastic set-up and payoffs, it's hard not to appreciate it just for its scripting. But it's the visceral intensity that makes this such a singular experience. How Mikael Salomon didn't win an Oscar for his cinematography continues to astound me.

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.

080. George Washington Slept Here

080. (05 Mar) George Washington Slept Here (1942, William Keighley) 34



Jack Benny's comic delivery is absurdly forceful. He unsubtly hits every punchline to the point where each joke is downright irritating. It also doesn't help that the comedy is rather mean-spirited, mostly aimed at Ann Sheridan's rash decision to buy a delapidated house in the country. The script might pass for a bad sitcom pilot. As a film, it overextends its welcome in almost record time. Hattie McDaniel and Charles Coburn are criminally underused in supporting roles.

The Art Direction nomination is funny. Apparently the broken down house here was the same used in Arsenic and Old Lace. That shabby set and the renovations look good enough.

067. Madame Bovary

067. (25 Feb) Madame Bovary (1949, Vincente Minnelli) 54



Claude Chabrol's Madame Bovary seemed too tame, but it's delightful watching Vincente Minnelli try to sneak in as much scandal as possible into his version. It requires that he literally put Gustave Flaubert on trial in a subplot, but it permits him to make Bovary a full-fledged, arresting trollop. When Emma and Rodolphe go riding for instance, he simply hints that they're more than riding by showing her hat on the ground. It's a simple insinuation that's just smutty enough that the censors couldn't find it too objectionable.

Jennifer Jones's transformation from a wide-eyed innocent to a petulant misanthrope is occasionally delightful. Whenever she's being the slightest bit miserable, she gives the film a weight it would lack without her coldness. It's irresistible hearing her remark, "Do you know why that clock strikes, Charles? To announce the death of another hour."

Unfortunately, she's not so good at conveying other emotions. When she's showing her ruthless ambition, she feels insincere or loony. I've seen Jones try to stretch her limitations before in Duel in the Sun. There's melodramatic territory here she simply shouldn't tread into and she does, on more than one occasion, embarrass herself.

She does come off well by being at the center of the film's clear highlight. It's a marvelous scene where Madame Bovary steals the show in a ballroom. She spectacularly waltzes despite insisting she doesn't know how; Minnelli captures the lightheaded wonder of the moment by spinning the camera in a dizzying fashion. How the numerous enormous gowns missed a Costume Design nomination is inexplicable. The Art Direction, at least, is spectacular in this and almost every other scene and deservedly got a nod.

Chabrol's version is decidedly tighter and more entertaining. Minnelli's film may be stylish and sometimes effective, but the overall film he makes is neutered and episodic. He does what he can to create an accomplished adaptation, but this was plainly the wrong era for a Madame Bovary.

065. Young Bess

065. (25 Feb) Young Bess (1953, George Sidney) 39



Jean Simmons determines that she'll be an iconic Elizabeth I in Young Bess, but her overwrought, unconvincing performance says otherwise. Having seen Vanessa Redgrave in Anonymous in recent months, it's interesting to see another person approach Elizabeth I in such a baffling way. While Redgrave went for senility, Simmons goes for brattiness. She really doesn't have a singular moment that distinguishes her as a capable actress, though she's clearly been great in other things. It doesn't help that this finds Elizabeth in one of her least interesting phases of life profiling her romantic interest in Thomas Seymour.

The print on TCM looks clean, so I'm fairly certain this was restored recently. Some of the brighter colors pop, but for the most part this is absurdly dingy. It makes this a peculiar nominee for Art Direction and Costume Design. Most of the costumes are downright dowdy, albeit detailed. Those from The Virgin Queen from two years later put them to shame. The sets regularly look like typical sound stage fare. Only a couple banquets are particularly noteworthy.

The Rosza score is about as subtle as a slap to the face. (That's a nod to a hysterical scene where Simmons laughs at Stewart Granger while he insists she stop where it becomes clearer and clearer he'll slap her to make her stop.) The only saving graces here are Deborah Kerr as a genial Catherine Parr and Charles Laughton reprising his Henry VIII.

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.

Winner Breakdown: Art Direction

Art Direction:
- The Artist
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2
- Hugo
- Midnight in Paris
- War Horse


This is another category that I feel is super strong. There were again, so many other films that could've been nominated here too. It was definitely a good year for the Arts categories! But the 3 big contenders in this arena are Hugo, The Artist, and Harry Potter. Hugo was fantasic looking, with it's 1930's Gard du Nord train station setting, the silent films settings, and the automaton. The Artist had the glitzy 1920/30's Hollywood look, with snazzy set designs, and just making everything look genuinely old. And then Harry Potter. Harry Potter has been nominated for Art Direction, 3 times before, making this its 4th time. And it's been deserving every single year. We had the destroyed Hogwarts, the glass boat house, the flashback scenes, etc. The 3 big winners at the Art Directors Guild awards was The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Hugo, and Harry Potter. While that doesn't exactly rule who wins, it gives Harry Potter a step up, and the Artist a step down, though only slightly. Again, Hugo has tons of nominations, and I expect it'll win a lot of them. Hugo probably has the best chance of winning it here. However, the Academy could decide to give it to Potter, after all the times it's been nominated, and not excluding the great Direction it had again for this film. If anyone will upset Hugo, it'll be Harry Potter, though don't count the Artist out. It may sweep because of it's front-runner status. 

Will Win: Hugo
Could Win: Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II
Dark Horse: Midnight in Paris
Who I Want to Win: Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows Part II

035. Mister Buddwing

035. (29 Jan) Mister Buddwing (1966, Delbert Mann) 37



Sort of mesmerizingly dopey, Mister Buddwing is laden with flashbacks as an amnesiac slowly recalls his life. James Garner has an almost impossible time making an amnesiac's confusion relatable. Handsome though he may be, his limitations further emphasize how nonsensical the script is. The film's title, for instance, comes from Garner wandering around the streets of Manhattan where he sees a beer truck and airplane in the sky; he pieces that together to name himself "Buddwing."

The drawn-out, silly plot is made bearable by a strong supporting cast. Angela Lansbury, Katharine Ross, Suzanne Pleshette, and Jean Simmons all take turns helping Garner. Each upstages him. Nichelle Nichols makes an impression in a bit part.

The Art Direction nomination is only for a handful of interiors, none of them especially intricate. It's mostly the inside of apartments and a couple restaurants. The Costume Design nomination is hilarious. Helen Rose is credited with the nod, but is listed in the credits as only designing Jean Simmons' gowns. That means she was cited for two shiny dresses.

479. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2

479. (26 Nov) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011, David Yates) 55



Considering how lame the final installment of J.K. Rowling's book series was, it was inevitable the film would be troubled. By splitting it in two parts, it amplifies how unremarkable the plotting is. For the sake of the runtime, the story is rushed on the scale that derailed Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Consider the opening bank heist and the recovery of the Ravenclaw diadem. They're relatively unexciting and bizarrely episodic events considering the film only takes place over the course of a few days. It's not particularly thrilling when a conveniently placed dragon saves your ass or a minor character like Luna Lovegood solves a key mystery like the Ravenclaw horcrux.

Once the battle at Hogwart's begins, the film is crushingly brainless. The challenges that were overcome in Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire were because of the cleverness and intellect of the characters. Now they're not even smart enough to think up a spell to stop the fire in the room of requirement or they lamely chase after a snake trying to stab it with a dragon tooth. At some point, the film is simply neither fun nor involving. It simply feels like work watching David Yates resolve a decade-long film series that had towering moments years ago.

The visual effects are still quite good, though the aging in the epilogue is a decided failure. I imagine they'll be the franchise's final Oscar nomination. An Art Direction nod would be inexplicable since there are practically no new sets throughout. Touting it for Best Picture or asking for a Rickman nomination is outlandish.

478. War Horse

478. (24 Nov) War Horse (2011, Steven Spielberg)* 44



In its first act, it seems War Horse is trying to look and feel like a '40s countryside drama in the vein of Lassie Come Home. There are obligatory elements like an animal that can't be kept and a farm that's at risk of being lost. But where a '40s film like The Yearling would've matched glossiness with emotional impact, War Horse is more tonally akin to a '70s Disney feature. It slides in utterly surreal comic relief like a goose that nips at people's heels while it should be fleshing out characters.

The fundamental failing of the film -- aside from the plot being so incidental and uninteresting -- is that it never allows us to forge relationships with the characters. The horse is the only constant in the film. People come and go from his life. Tom Hiddleston has the most thankless role of all as an English officer who dies before we get even the faintest hint of his backstory. Spielberg's inability to contextualize the death of a significant supporting character at the start of a war is disturbing, and he does it at least a couple more times throughout the course of the film.

The only series of scenes not centered around the horse is where Jeremy Irvine, who trained has an unhealthy attachment to him, is his brief stint in the war where he sees a little bit of combat before being blinded by gas. Neither he nor any other human in the film gains insight into the hardship of war. The very final shot has the horse staring off into the sunset after returning home. It's a totally bizarre closing shot, as the lessons of war's cruelty have all been learned by the horse and not the humans. That might be impactful if this was an animated film where the horse can talk and pontificate, but there are enormous battle sequences and lives lost. It's a bit too serious to not articulate any big themes.

The inevitable conclusion where the boy and his horse are reunited is unabashedly contrived and manipulative. Oscar voters are sure to weep at the silly moment, but I was too exhausted from the preceding and present ridiculousness to care.

The cast is, not surprisingly, totally wasted. No one comes close to making an impression except Emily Watson. She's acting in a more serious, involving movie than everybody else.

The crafts are almost shockingly unremarkable. The cinematography is lacking as the film is supposed to have scope, but there's no memorable imagery to be found. John Williams' score is perhaps his most pounding and dreadful. He emphasizes every little aciton and movement, determined to turn this dull film into something exciting through sheer will. It will likely dominate the craft awards at the Oscars, but I've seen Spielberg do these exact same battles on a grander, more effective scale.

470. Midnight in Paris

470. (20 Nov) Midnight in Paris (2011, Woody Allen) 54



There's clumsiness in both the film's key plot device and the way famous individuals who populated 1920's Paris are introduced. Though warmth and charm carry a handful of scenes, it's burdened by inobservant observances like no time period recognizing its own significance. Owen Wilson's character wants to take his chances with an entrancing young woman in the past rather than his clearly dreadful fiancee in the present; that sort of deck-stacking prevents the film from feeling romantic or insightful. There are also some smug moments like Wilson pitching a scenario to Luis Buñuel.

457. The Artist

457. (06 Nov) The Artist (2011, Michel Hazanavicius)* 48



The first thirty minutes of The Artist are lighter than air, suggesting a rather promising comedy. Then the film turns dramatic and whatever momentum was being gained is lost. A charming series of takes where Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo's flirting interrupts filming on a movie they're making gives way to suicide attempts and house fires and all sort of melodramatic nonsense. The movie simply ceases to be any fun and, considering it's sustaining on the gimmick of being silent, that makes the last three-fourths of the film quite a chore. There are amusing moments along the way, mostly involving an adorable dog. It's one of the frothiest, dopiest movies I've seen in quite some time. I guess that certifies it as a Best Picture contender.

455. Hugo

455. (05 Nov) Hugo (2011, Martin Scorsese)* 57



There are moments of fun and whimsy here that suggest Scorsese doing a kid's movie was not a total misfire. But the film itself can be deadly dull, making it unsuitable for younger viewers. It's also hard to believe they'd enjoy the last act's ode to Georges Melies. Broad supporting characters and their distracting subplots really derail the film. (A train in a dream within a dream literally derails around the same point the film itself does.) When an obligatory chase scene takes place late in the film, it's clear this has outstayed its welcome. Nevertheless, the crafts are lovely and Ben Kingsley is quite good.