14 Days Until Black Swan

Here's a nifty new one-sheet to my current cinematic obsession-- Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan.  Love the awesome glamor shot of Natalie Portman, in full diva stance, while the creepy black feathers blow around her.  On a pure marketing level, including the teaser poster and the hot button trailer which, to my delight, set the YouTube nerds a-flutter, this film is top notch, and I detest blatant marketing plans, not matter how important they are.  Lately, however, what's been on my mind, aside from the great high the film gave my on round one (it lingers and haunts; on first viewing, I even had a few nightmares) is the crazy notion that this trippy, art house wonder might actually get the awards attention it deserves, or maybe not...

On first thought, the idea of a crazy, mind-bendy tale of a destructive ballet dancer on the verge of a nervous breakdown seems on odd fit with the respectable, middle of the road bait films that usually conquer Oscar.  Plus this one has some freaky lesbian sex, that even without nudity, might make even the most liberal, adventurous film-goer a bit uncomfortable.  Bloggers report the success of the certain screenings-- namely the AFI gala premiere last week that included all the important industry types and online awards buzz-keepers, yet I still feel hesitant to really proclaim something like this a sure thing with the Academy.  I have many reasons to worry-- first off, my favorites of the year generally miss the big prize; my taste being far from the middle of the road typically.  Secondly, and this one's a bit trickier-- it's easy to think of personal favorites of any given year, but to put to ones mind in the mindset of an Academy voter is a different thing altogether.  The Academy has a large contingent of older members, one's with often finicky tastes, one reason why so many might champion a royal period piece like this years The King's Speech, which fits nicely into the Academy wheelhouse-- respectable, critically applauded, non-offensive.  Not dissing the film, I haven't seen it yet, but likely no one's going to come out outraged, which may happen with Black Swan-- it's an intense, often very genre-oriented film, and again it has some freaky girl-on-girl sex.

Natalie Portman's bravura performance seems to be the easiest to recognize, for she's  a) very famous and attractive.  b) wonderful in the film, but more importantly, she dances and there's plenty of showy effort put into the film.  c) giving a demanding, quite deeply felt performance, one of which suggest a range and magnitude she's never quite delivered on screen before.  d) got the advantage of a great media hook.  e) very famous and attractive; bears repeating.

However director Darren Aronofsky may be seen as a sort of an outsider to certain parts of the Academy.  Perhaps because none of the films (even though they are master works in their own right) have ever being Academy-approved outside of it's actors, and there's more than a few caveats to those nominations:

• Ellen Burstyn, Requiem for a Dream (2000)- it's a great performance, but more importantly what probably secured the nomination was that Burstyn is acting royalty, and that level of respect may have transcended the fact that Requiem, while amazing, is a ballsy, daring piece of filmmaking that otherwise the Academy likely wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot pole; note the film received no other nominations.

• Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler (2008)- again great performance, but Rourke had the advantage of the great media hook of bad boy comeback story, which never was as reflective of Aronofsky's skill as a filmmaker, even though it should have.  Despite the massive critical reception of The Wrestler, and the fact that it's by far the most emotionally accessible of Aronofsky's work to date (including Black Swan), the film only received acting nominations.

• Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler (2008)- yet again a wonderful performance, that Aronofsky is a great one with his actors, yet has never been formally acknowledged.  I have a feeling Tomei got in riding the waves of Mickey Rourke, and had the media hook of all her onscreen nudity.

In a perfect just filmmaking work, Black Swan should be able to coast through with a truckload of nominations, and it just might, but it require a far more adventurous spirit from the Academy than we're used to, and for that I worry.

Black Swan

I'm falling into movie geek heaven as this lovely looking trailer plays.  The anticipation and expectation is palpable!!!!!

The Many Faces of Natalie

I really don't have much to write about this other than I think it's an awesome image, being one of the first stills to be released from what is hopefully Darren Aronofsky's latest awesome film, Black Swan.  The film's cinematographer is Matthew Libatique, whose photographed all of Aronofsky's works, with the except of The Wrestler.  He's also the preferred lenser of Spike Lee and John Favreau.  While Oscar hasn't paid attention to his particular gifts just yet, he did receive an Independent Spirit Award for Requiem For a Dream.

The Ones Oscar Didn't Choose

I apologize in advance for pointed rants about this one. Here are the
most painful snubs for me to bear this year...it was a doozy.

The Fall for Art Direction and Costume Design
While the film itself wasn't the greatest (though Lee Pace nails his part of a morphine crazed Hollywood stuntman), the visual quality of the film was a real beaut. Director Tarsem created a crazy, dizzy world that was a phenomenal artistic achievement. Showy for sure, but why not go all out. The Academy unfortunately preferred the muted tones of Changeling and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button instead.

Darren Aronofsky, The Wrestler for Direction
In a filmography that includes depressing anarchic snapshots of life like Pi and Requiem For a Dream, The Wrestler is certainly the most humanistic of his work-- also the most heartbreaking. In what could have been a generic tale of redemption in someone else's hands becomes a quietly revelatory and moving piece of art. Mickey Rourke's incredible comeback performance got a nomination (deservedly), but what of man who staged it. The Academy has yet to acknowledge Mr. Aronofsky personally, but then again they never paid attention to David Fincher (an equally unflinching, detailed director) until he sucumbed to typical Oscar catnip.

James Franco in Milk (or Pineapple Express)
What a year did Mr. Franco have- two wonderfully unexpected performances, and yet despite a Golden Globe comedy nod (for Pineapple) and Critics Choice nomination (for Milk), he mostly got the shaft. This is not unexpected necessarily, but still not right in my book. Not only did he expand his career with these marvelous turns, but surprised with his great sense of ease for
comedy. The warmth exhibited in these two movies makes me forget the last couple of years of forgettable movies. And yet nothing...boo, especially this year where best supporting actor was a mixed bag.

Jonathon Demme, Rachel Getting Married for Direction
In the 1980s before Mr. Demme has one an Oscar for The Silence of the Lambs, he was honing his craft on small comedy-dramas like Married to the Mob, Something Wild, Swing Shift and Melvin and Howard. On first observation they might have appeared smallish, but they were all memorable humanistic stories with a free floating structure and a fine sense or character-- as well as luminous showcases for actresses like Michelle Pfieffer, Melanie Griffith, and Mary Steenburgen. It's been a long time since Demme has made a film so intimate and felt before, and that's part of what makes Rachel Getting Married such a remarkable thing-- his returned with one of most joyous ventures yet, again with a fine showcases for one of the best ensembles of the year, but of course Ron Howard broke new ground too. (Didn't he?)

Vicky Christina Barcelona for Original Screenplay
C'mon Academy members! True Original Screenplay was pretty strong this year (a rarity), but this one is a lot better than In Bruges. You've never had a problem honoring Woody Allen in the past, but when the master comes up with something worthy, but deny him. Sure he probably wouldn't show up (Woody has notoriously rejected the Academy salivation in the past), but he's an American treasure, and this was one of strongest films in years.

Rosemarie DeWitt in Rachel Getting Married
As I am delighted Anne Hathaway got nominated for her terrific performance, I'm still confounded how DeWitt got so shamefully overlooked this entire season. Most of the thrill of Rachel Getting Married is the complex volley between DeWitt and Hathaway-- both actresses
coaxed such deeply felt everything from each other. There's anger and shouting (great for Oscar clips), but also warmth and silliness. And the great thing about is how authentic it all felt. It's great for Hathaway, but wheres the love for Rachel herself.

WALL-E for Picture
I knew it wasn't going to happen, but I wish to dream in a perfectly idealized world for a second, where a film as powerful and entertaining and popular as this one could for some dasterdly reason get a birth to top award. Beauty and the Beast is the only animated film to do so, and I believe it's time for another...one day! The unfortunate thing is that I know the love for this one will out last the Academy support of middling films like Frost/Nixon and The Reader, as evident by there hideous box office-- even being nominated hasn't made anybody want to see them. HA!

Bruce Springsteen's "The Wrestler," for Original Song
This one was just plain wrong. What's the deal with the Song category this year-- three nominations (two for Slumdog, one for WALL-E) and no love for The Boss. It's a crime-- this one is actually a great song by itself, but it's also a deeply felt song perfectly insynch with the beautiful film it's set against. Yes, Bruce has an Oscar already (for "Streets of Philadelphia" from Philadelphia, 1993), but that's never bothered them before-- during the early 90s the Disney teams won every year for a while. This is a plain travesty. The song was eligible, what no one listened? I thought the new song rules implemented in the last year were meant to eliminated multiple songs for one film, was supposed to make the field stronger, not weaker. What? Why? Boo! Shameful! Then again the Academy is again notorious for making bad decisions in the music categories (last years painful omisision of Jonny Greenwood's amazing score in There Will Be Blood brings to mind.)

The Dark Knight for Picture
And the most painful one, but of course. This one is just appalling on all levels. For a film of such widespread support everywhere else--those eight other nominations indicate it's broad Academy appeal, but to miss out on the big one to middlebrow nonsense that no one will bother to remember tomorrow is an outright travesty. It's not just that I personally found The Dark Knight to be a great movie (which I do), but the fact that this was a big (HUGE) film adored almost universally for the second it opened to record breaking box office. Forget about the comic book nerds-- critics loved it, the general public spent hard earned cash on it several times (even during these recession days), the film nerds loved it, the elitist film nerds loved it. And what's wrong with breaking the mold for this Godfather, Part II of superhero flicks. The real pain may come on Oscar night itself, when the ratings plummet to there worst on record. I'll be watching, because it's in my blood, but I won't blame the ones that tune out, for the members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences have clearly already tuned out to the very obvious pleas of movie fans everywhere.

The Wrestler

There's something about The Wrestler that's quietly revelatory, it's not just Mickey Rourke's comeback performance (although much more on that-- it's a singular beaut), nor Darren Aronofsky's naturalistic and possibly even hopeful (what a change from the crazed auteur of Requiem For a Dream) direction-- it's something deeper, something raw and personal that transforms an art house Rocky clone into something you might expect from a young Scorsese. It starts from the beginning-- a shot of Rourke's once big deal wrestler Randy "The Ram" Robinson hunched in a corner, back towards the camera-- right away there seems to be a fusion of character and actor-- he knows this character internally. Much has been said of the comparison of Randy and Mickey, but that almost belittles the accomplishment at work here. What we forgot (with the exception of brief gleeful moments in Sin City) is that Mickey Rourke, as 80s dreamboat or modern train wreck has always been a movie star-- his timing, his charisma is so riveting that even the most seemingly ordinary and mundane scenes in The Wrestler are multi-layered-- sadness and joy, entertaining and passionate-- beautiful really. It helps that the majesty of Rourke is shaped into a well-told tale of redemption by screenwriter Robert Siegel and Aronofsky at his most free flowing, on the wall, and insightful.

But back to that hunched over opening shot-- Randy back in the day was huge-- now his body (still big and imposing) is not as quick nor as strong, decayed from decades of torture. However this is all he knows, so he still does it. He wrestles small time fights on the weekends, while working at a grocery store. His outlet is playing Nintendo with local children in the trailer park, and going to the local strip club for flirty encounters with Cassidy (Marisa Tomei, the best actress for awards worthy stripping), who in a mirror image of Randy strips because that's all she knows, despite fears of a less desirable body. The third, and least successful part of The Wrestler is the reconciliation between Randy and his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood.) Despite one very lovely scene at the Jersey docks, it feels overly familiar whereas everything else tilts off formula.

But the utter "smallness" The Wrestler has filmically, it's over-sized emotionally. Every small sense of Randy's sad-ish life is emblazoned by the Rourke insistence of not creating a martyr. Whether sleeping in his truck, due to his inability to pay rent on his modest trailer, or scooping pasta salad at a grocery store deli, or flirting with a resistant Cassidy, or being tortured in a sadistic wrestling match with barb wire and staplers (in the films goriest, least watchable moment.) Rourke never demands that his Randy should be pitiable. It's tender, brutal and exhilarating! A