2013 Award Season Moment of Zen

Upstart A24 was serious, it appears, in its (adorable) efforts to get James Franco some awards consideration love for Spring Breakers.  A pleasurable folly, even though his delightfully bent Alien was one of the few watchable aspects of a largely unwatchable movie.  It does ask a question however considering how insanely prolific Franco is, when (if at all) the Academy will acknowledge him again?  This year alone he acted in the indie spring hit Breakers, the diametrically opposed spring hit Oz: The Great & Powerful, the summer hit This Is the End, Lovelace and the upcoming Homefront.  Not to mention directing the Sundance doc Interior. Leather Bar. (the bizarre re-imagining of the cut out footage of Friedkin's Crusing-- when will that ever appear?), the Cannes title Faulkner adaptation As I Lay Dying (which he also co-starred) and the Venice title Cormac McCarthy adaptation Child of God (co-starred again.)  He also appeared in the fall festival entry Palo Alto from next generation Coppola, Gia which was based on his own collection of short stories.  Whew!  Even if none of the product above is "awards baity" in the refined sense of the word, all he had to do to get his first nomination was saw off his arm.

All the power to A24 though--- while your at it, please contribute a little nugget of an awards campaign to your strongest 2013 title-- the sensitively and beautifully acted teen drama The Spectacular Now.

Venice Film Festival Line-Up Announced

This year marks the 70th Venice Film Festival, one of the holy trifecta of fall festival season.  It was already announced that Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity, his bold 3-D lost in space science fiction odyssey will be opening out of competition.  Here is the rest of the slate:

COMPETITION

Scarlett Johansson in Under the Skin

Ana Arabia (Israel)- directed by Amos Gitai
Child of God (USA)- directed by James Franco- Just months after the Cannes premiere of Franco's Faulkner adaptation of As I Lay Dying, the actor-multi-hyphenate takes his adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's novel to Venice; Franco co-stars with Tim Blake Nelson. 
Es-Stouh (France)- directed by Merzak Allouache
Joe (USA)- directed by David Gordon Green-  Nicolas Cage and The Tree of Life's Tye Sheridan star in Green's latest, a drama about the relationship between an ex-con and a 15-year-old boy.
La Jalousie (France)- directed by Philippe Garrel
L'intrepido (Italy)- directed by Gianni Amelio
Miss Violence (Greece)- directed by Alexandros Avranas
Night Moves (USA)- directed by Kelly Reichardt
Philomena (UK)- directed by Stephen Frears- As expected Frears is premiering his latest drama-- about a woman and her search for her adult son-- in competition here.  Frears previously took his The Queen, Dirty Pretty Things and Liam to Venice.
The Policeman's Wife- directed by Philip Groning
Sacro Gra (Italy)- directed by Gianfranco Rosi
Stray Dogs (Taiwan)- directed by Ming-liang Tsai
Tom at the Farm (Canada)- directed by Xavier Dolan- The latest gay drama from the director of Laurence Anyways and I Killed My Mother.
Tracks (UK)- directed by John Curran- This biographical drama starring Mia Wasikowski and Adam Driver about a young woman who goes on a 1,700 mile trek across the deserts of West Australia will also play Toronto.  Curran previously directed Stone, The Painted Veil and We Don't Live Here Anymore.
Under the Skin (USA/UK)- directed by Jonathon Glazen-  Scarlett Johansson stars as in alien in Glazen's follow-up to Birth, the Nicole Kidman oddity that came out nine years ago.
The Unknown Known: The Life & Times of Donald Runsfeld (USA)- directed by Errol Morris
Via Castellana Bandiera (Italy)- directed by Emma Dante
The Wind Rises (Japan)- directed by Hayao Miyazaki
The Zero Theorem (USA)- directed by Terry Gilliam-- Gilliam's latest surrealist fantasia stars Matt Damon, Christoph Waltz and Tilda Swinton and involves a computer hacker's goal to discover the key to human existence.

Full list here.

This Is the End

Remember when movies were made out of Saturday Night Live sketches and they almost never worked?  It's not exactly a science, but that gut-busting exhilaration that can come from a nugget of an idea can spawn something magical within the confines of a five minute interval.  This Is the End, the Seth Rogen and friends end of the world comedy hour, could have been a gleefully hysterical, perhaps even transcendent, otherworldly thing of funny had it been filtered through, say- a "Funny or Die" segment or even maybe as a thirty-minute situation comedy for lofty and uncensored stations like HBO or Showtime, however as a feature film (a plodding one that which meanders for over a hundred minutes) it, well, kinda thuds.  For sure there's laughs here, but it's all punchline with no setup-- Entourage played out with the revolving door of Judd Apatow alums while a sub-Blazing Saddles reinterpretation of 2012 blares outside.   

This stoner, R-rated, more "meta" than can be handled apocalypse buddy picture was written and directed by Rogen and longtime partner Evan Goldberg, who previously crackled the now seemingly innocent Superbad (2007) and the similarly tempered ultra violent, cuddly buddy picture Pineapple Express (2008).  It's the first time either have directed a film before, and it shows.  While it's true that their oeuvre hasn't exactly lead itself to strongly finessed, nor particularly tightly packaged movies in the past (though David Gordon Green brought his auteur hat to the mix with Pineapple Express), This Is the End looks and feels like a crummy goof-of session between bong hits given a go as a feature film.  Even as a gooey slime of cheese, it doesn't look endearingly scrappy in that cheap, homemade sense, but plain, ugly and crappy.  Visual aesthetics aside, and more to the point, is that the film feels in every sense a house party of famous pals joshing around and around and around.  Again, I state, as a sketch, it could have been gold.

Oz: The Great and Powerful

We're off to see the wizard, because...

Well because the powers that be at Disney have conditioned their lasted offering-- Oz: The Great & Powerful-- as the first cinematic event of the new year, a phenomena that no one associated with The Wizard of Oz could have ever possible imagined when they released their much beloved classic seventy-four years ago.  The powers that be from the force that is Disney (appropriate, I feel for a company now in charge of the fate of Star Wars) appear to have worked their magical sleight of hand, if box office truly means anything about the prowess of the magic of filmmaking, but in this viewers eyes, it's easy to call uncle to their great big and expensive bluff.  Because Oz: The Great & Powerful is not so great nor powerful, but flimsy, derivative and sadly commits one of the worst offenses that bloated, big budgets mega-projects can do: it bores.

Director Sam Raimi, who guided the first Spider-man franchise with the delicate bond of spectacle and humor, at first and foremost seems an odd and inspired choice to revisit the magical land of Oz.  With his elan and glee for macabre, outré horror sensibilities matched with a gilded professionalism, it's an easy invitation to the hallowed ground that Dorothy and friends famously traveled.  Yet something feels amiss from the start.  Oz opens beguilingly, if not altogether in inspired fashion with a black and white prologue set the Academy aspect ratio.  A beckon, a reminder, but also a bit of an arms-up defense for a film trying to hold a candle to one of the most watched pieces of cinema of all time, while also flailing about on its own terms.  It's Kansas, set about twenty-years before The Wizard of Oz, and we meet Oscar Diggs, a magician/scam artist on the traveling circus show.  The circus itself is named after L. Frank Baum in homage to the original creator of the Yellow Brick Road, whose work to the delight of many a canny businessman has entered the world of public domain.

Diggs, all show with little substance (much like the film that surrounds him) is a shrewd entertainer and one who believes he's destined for greatness, but he's a callow lad, a womanizer, a scoundrel and more than bit unseemly even for the most liberal of wannabe Disney heroes.  He's played by James Franco, in a performance that already feels divisive, and if not entirely worthy of derision, than certainly worthy of discussion.  It's not necessarily the fault of Franco that his Oscar (nicknamed, naturally, Oz) is loathsome, nor is it a terrible performance, but it reads like the cinematic illustration of Franco, the actor vs. Franco, the movie star.  In the right roles (such of 127 Hours and the current Spring Breakers), the ubiquitous and curious actor is granted the freedom to explore the strange facets of his curiosities in interesting, unsettling and ultimately surprising ways, but in the more packaged bits of the Hollywood (like Oz and perhaps his ill-fated gig as Oscar host), the actor comes across sweltered and caged by the cushy confines.  Oscar needs a performer self-deprecating enough to make his treachery and smarmy-ness somehow likeable.  A tall order, especially under the circumstances provided in the less than great and powerful dialogue provided by Mitchell Kapner and David Lindsay-Abaire.  Franco is weighted down by the effect, but it would be foolish to point the finger on him.

After a circus skirmish where Oscar's philandering is revealed to an unsuspecting boyfriend, the wizard needs to scram, and quickly.  He hopes into a hot air balloon while in pursuit, when, well, wouldn't you know it-- a twister strikes Kansas taking Oscar to the magical, Technicolor world of Oz.  While comparison is foolish, Oz: The Great & Powerful can't quite help itself, riffing on one of the greatest cinematic moments in history as Oscar enters Oz-- suddenly the film turns into the widescreen spectacle show of color, one of which is certainly a delight and awfully pretty, but also a tad empty.  The sequence diverts into an amusement park ride, something of which is posited as a fun adventure is cynically produced as an attraction, all of which would be fine as a five-minute spectacle in Fantasyland, but unsettling at a moment in a movie where the magic is supposed to hitting its mark.

Again, something feels amiss.  It's not quite the look-- some of the shots and color palette is at times gorgeous and refreshing in its mixture of high tech visuals and just-left-of-perfect effects.  Thankfully the film, boasted as being from the producers of the grisly and ugly Alice in Wonderland, has learned a few lessons on the nature of color schemes for its reinvented plagiarizing of classics.  There's even a wondrous CG creation in the form of China Girl, the best friend Oscar meets whom he certainly doesn't deserve.  What's missing is the spark of character, something of which as the film drags on is never acquired.  Oscar finds himself in Oz and is proclaimed the great wizard that will save the land from the Wicked Witch.  The shallow false prophet tries to exclaim his non-magical prowess, but becomes distracted by the comely come-ons by Theodora the Good (Mila Kunis), a susceptible, emotional witch unsure of her rightful path; at first and foremost nothing matters at all but the eternal love she feels for Oz because of a moonlight dance.

The gravest mistake of Oz: The Great & Powerful and the one argument that feels worthy to get all hot and bothered about is the films characterizations of the witches-- there's three in all that make an appearance, and all of whom bedazzled and aglow with the great and powerful one.  Rachel Weisz plays Evanora, Theodora's older and more suspicious sister, while Michelle Williams plays Glinda.  The cat, I'm sure is nearly out of the bag at this point, but the twist of the story is that one of these ladies will turn green and well, wicked.  The journey to get there is the troubling part, and just in verisimilitude of the great green baddie played by Margaret Hamilton seventy-four years ago feels a bit too hard to buy.  Cast with a messed view of gender politics in a lame sort of Oz-fueled The Witches of Eastwick, Raimi and team puts forth three of the most resourceful actresses currently working in movies, casts them as powerful sorcerers and has each of them consumed by the advances of a gross mortal boy.  Sexism and Disney have gone hand in hand for generations, but even the most distressed damsel they've produced has had a bit more of a spine than these three.  Only Weisz seems to really recover, thanks to her game and camp-tinged line delivery...it's unfortunate the lines themselves are all raspberries.  Even The Wizard of Oz, which entered cinemas in 1939 reads with a stroke of feminist progress as it presents Dorothy as a sharp, independent adventurer, while both Glinda and the Wicked Witch are great and powerful without the assets of a man.  It's a film that seems to have it a little both ways on terms of female gender politics, as the three main female characters are all strong and independent, while mercifully riffing on one another-- Oz: The Great & Powerful sidelines the three witches as mere props, robbing them even of the power to scold one another.  A better idea might have been if they joined forces to conjure a better script.  C- 

James Franco: Box Office Wizard (and Pimp)

This year has been a snooze for the most part when it comes to box office grosses, what with attendance and admissions all down from the previous year, along with the typically uninspiring product that the first few months of the years brings out.  Well, the key to 2013 box office riches appears to be...James Franco.  Specifically if you surround the actor with a bevy of attractive women seemingly all aglow with the magic and power that is marks this strange specimen of actorly range.  The actor stole the show on both the macro and micro level on this weeks box office chart with the prepackaged Disney extravaganza, Oz: The Great & Powerful maintaining the top spot in its second week of release earning $42 million for a total so far of $145 million, making it the top seller of 2013 so far.  Not content to the object of desire (and eventual disdain) by the powerful witches of Oz (Rachel Wiesz, Michelle Williams, Mila Kunis, respectively), Franco also dominated the limited engagement world with the huge take brought in by Spring Breakers, the latest from enfant terrible Harmony Korine (Gummo, julien donkey boy, screenwriter of Kids), which bolstered the highest per-screen average for any film since last years The Master, rearing a take of $270,000 on three screens in New York and Los Angeles, for an average of $90,000 (the largest for any film so far in 2013, and higher, in fact, than those set by eventual Oscar winners Lincoln and Zero Dark Thirty when they charted on their limited debuts; the film also boasts the 22nd biggest per-screen average in history, unadjusted for inflation.)  Spring Breakers, which cements Franco as some sort of career beasts, tackles the role of a white rapper/Spring Break emcee who shepherds past Disney Channel pets Selina Gomez and Ashley Benson into the world of R-rated carnality.

More on Oz: The Great & Powerful and Spring Breakers soon, but this weekend at the very least, we can assume it's James Franco's world and we're just living in it.



In other news, Halle Berry surprised with The Call, the combined magic of Steve Carrel and Jim Carrey couldn't get arrested as The Incredible Burt Wonderstone bombed hard, Jack the Giant Slayer is but an afterthought (more on that soon, too-- I realize no one cares about it anymore!)

The brighter side came from the limited field as not just the impressive achievement of Spring Breakers, but two other films got off to a solid start as well.  From Up on Poppy Hill opened on two screens in New York to a nice average of $27,500; the internationally successful anime from Goro Miyazki (son of maestro Hayao, who co-wrote the film) will arrive in Los Angeles next week, with further expansion to go.  Upstart indie outfit A24 Production was behind Spring Breakers but also unleashed the Elle Fanning period piece Ginger & Rosa (which actually had a blink and you've missed it Oscar qualifying run last December) to solid results as well with a $15,000 average on three screens.  This week, in a highly unusual move, will certainly raise the stock of A24, which has some interesting films in the pipeline including Sophia Coppola's The Bling Ring.

And the Hosts of the 83rd Annual Academy Awards Are:

In a surprising and refreshing decision from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science, James Franco and Anne Hathaway have been confirmed as hosts of this years Oscar telecast.  They're both the youngest hosts on record, further proof behind the Best Picture Top Ten, that the show is courting young people.  Good choice; next they can stop nominating irrelevant old-foggy films-- that would be nice too.  I'm just joshing; that will never happen.

But both are engaging, talented performers who have proven themselves, comically and dramatically, and it's nice to shake things up, especially since the event gets stodgy ever now and then.  Franco, who in the past two years has thrown himself at everything-- Pineapple Express, Milk, Eat Pray Love, the oddball "General Hospital" appearances, and currently astounding in Danny Boyle's 127 Hours--  seems primed at the position to be the next great thing that's been hanging around him since Freaks and Geeks, and the James Dean biopic he made then years ago.  However, with that a problem poses: he's likely to be nominated this year for 127 Hours, a host and a nominee might prove a bit tacky; what is this the Emmys?

Hathaway likely won't have to worry about that, since her Love and Other Drugs flick is getting tarred and feathered by the critics, but like Franco has a warmth and general gamesmanship about her that might make her a perfectly amicable emcee.  Her short duet with Hugh Jackman at the 2009 telecast, I thought, was totally delightful.  The former Disney princess has emerged into a movie star, with the help of The Devil Wears Prada, Brokeback Mountain, and her glorious Oscar-nominated work in Rachel Getting Married.

I'm ready; it can't be more awkward than Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin in last year's strangely timed, and just off ceremony.  Of course, we will wait until February 27th, until then I'll stand pleasantly curious and cautiously optimistic.

127 Hours

Like many, I would assume, my introduction to the work of director Danny Boyle was his 1996 international breakthrough, Trainspotting, the masterful Scottish film about heroin addicts.  What was so radiant about the film, aside from Boyle's formidable kinetic visual tricks, was the way we focused on the high itself, in all its grimy exhilaration; making what was a difficult movie tackling a difficult subject matter not only vital cinema, but dare we say it: fun.  Since then the inventive British fabulist has ventured in horror (2003's 28 Days Later), science fiction (2007's Sunshine) and sought Oscar approval (2008's Slumdog Millionaire) for the most part without losing sight of the edgy, nervy styling that made an art house champion.  His latest, 127 Hours, I believe comes closest to the transcendent, truly vital cinema that Trainspotting was.  Again, it focuses on a "high," this one not in the form of a substance, but in a lone ranger's exploration; the rush of an adrenaline junkies search for the unknown.  There's added emotional heft for this survival story, as it's based on a true one, that of Aron Ralston, who out in the Canyonlands Park in Utah in the spring of 2003, got his right hand stuck under a boulder, whose only freedom was the chip away as his arm with a dull knife.  The film was based on the memoir by Ralston, entitled Between a Rock and a Hard Place.

In the film, we meet Ralston (played by James Franco) as he's setting out for exploration, by his lonesome, which is felt was he prefers.  He's been there before, and has all the hiking, mountain climbing gear.  There's pretty shots of him mountain biking on the surface of the challenging terrain, all filmed to the hilt, with maximum dexterity by the gifted Anthony Dod Mantle (the Academy Award winning lenser of Slumdog Millionaire, as well as the austere, brilliantly filmed Dogville.)  Ralston is seen as an expert of the great outdoors, throwing caution to the wind-- he's a good ole boy looking for fun and adventure.  He meets two attractive hikers (Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn) as poses as their guide, showing them the beautiful, albeit dangerous side, that of which would never be endorsed by guidebooks.  The two girls make googly-eyes and pose invitations to meet Ralston again, but as quick as they meet, he's off in the search of something new; he could almost be a poster child for the ADD-generation.

Off exploring in caves, god-knows how many miles away from civilization, Ralston gets stuck.  A rock has pinned his right arm down, his legs dangling the air, and for the first time in Boyle's film, everything starts to slow down, if only for a minute.  We see the giant blob of blood on the side, and a giant close-up of Franco's face, as he nervously tries to relax and focus-- for the first time it just got real, and the high is coming down.  The rest of the film plays sort of like an art-house\grindhouse version of Cast Away, but it's the nervy and visceral way that Boyle makes the claustrophobia of Ralstom's survivalist story so unique, and like Trainspotting, kinda...fun.  Which sort of feels wrong to say, but there's an exhilaration at work in 127 Hours that feels missing from nearly any movie Hollywood has made this year, and even the midst of one man's struggle, and seeming death, the film has an unbelievable way of making not only the fear palpable, but give it such immense scope.

There's few teasing glimpses of relief for Ralston, the fifteen minutes of sunlight in the morning, the sighting of a raven every morning at 9:30, and his camcorder to provide a diary of his journey, or a last will and testament.  Yet the uncanny naturist does fights the entire time-- making a pulley for comfort, and ineffectual rescue, chipping away at the rock with his dull blade for hours on end; there's a sequence when he drops his knife, and the effort to pick it up with his shoe and a twig that would make MacGyver proud.  But the harsh reality is that no one will hear his screams, and his water supply is almost out, and this where 127 Hours becomes almost quietly profound, in the hallucinations of his family he never see again, to the girl he may have wrongly dumped.  Boyle manages to get away with this because he never goes soft on Ralston-- each flashback and such is brought right back to the boulder he's trapped under.  The film wouldn't work nearly as successfully without the efforts of Franco, whose shape-shifting "meta" career is brought to new heights with a performance that's not just achingly physical, but beautifully poignant.  There's a moment when Franco recalls his past love, or sexual experience, and aches at the thought of possibly never feeling that again...he hesitates at the thought of masturbating one last time, and fights it...it may sound silly, but it's one of the most authentic and utterly humane moments in the film.

Much, it seems at least online, has been surrounded around the graphic nature of the 127 Hours, that of which prompted a few festival patrons to feint.  On this I'll just say that while I wholeheartedly embrace the film, it isn't for the feint of heart-- as exhilarating and validating as I think the film is, it is none the less raw and bloody.  Boyle doesn't shy away from the saving grace towards the end.  I, personally desensitized likely from the crappy gorefests viewed at a young age, handled it, I suppose, as best as one can, but I noticed a lot of fidgeting and uncomfortable viewers in the crowded movie theater with me.  It's nowhere near the gross torture-porn crap like the Hostels or Saws, but it feels more real.  I suppose enter at your own risk, but the risk is worth it, I'd say.  A-

127 Hours

The teaser has arrived for Danny Boyle's latest, 127 Hours, the true story of man (played by James Franco) who was trapped by a boulder on canyon trip in Utah in 2003.  The man, Aron Ralston, survived by sawing his arm off with a dull knife blade.  The only recent film that seems to spin up instantly is Cast Away, another lone ranger film of survival.  The teaser is anything is not bold and vibrant, highlighting past Boyle films, including the Fox Searchlight years (2003-present), his current hot streak of 28 Days Later (2003), Millions (2005), Sunshine (2007) and Slumdog Millionaire (2008).  I've always counted myself as a fan of Boyle's work (my favorite being Trainspotting), and while the Slumdog machine was not nearly my favorite Oscar victory, I do eagerly look forward to this one, especially since Franco is nothing if not an interesting actor at the moment. 

In the last two years, Franco I believe has truly earned that early Freaks and Geeks and James Dean promise, with the notable range-y against type turns in Pineapple Express and Milk, segueing into the surreal with a role in General Hospital, as Julia Robert's yogi younger boyfriend in Eat Pray Love, continuing later this year with a turn as Allen Ginsberg in Howl, and this.  He will likely have the oddest box-set DVD collection ever at this rate-- I'm game.  127 Hours will premiere at the fall film festivals later next month (like Slumdog did two years ago), and open November 5th.

Howl

Here's the trailer to Howl, the Allen Ginsberg biography starring James Franco in the starring role.  The film was the opening movie at this years Sundance Film Festival, and features a terrific cast-- David Strathairn, John Hamm, Mary Louise-Parker, Jeff Daniels and Bob Balaban.  The directors Rob Epstein and Jeffery Friedman sure have a fine pedigree with gay friendly themes as evident by the Oscar winning The Life & Times of Harvey Milk as well as the illuminating gay cinema treatise, The Celluloid Closet.  That being said, the film opened Sundance with mixed reviews, and even the trailer (which focuses on the obscenity trail Ginsberg faced after his poem, "Howl" premiered) looks very smallish and perhaps a bit too esoteric for even the most faithful independent moviegoer.  I'm still looking forward nonetheless-- Franco has proven himself at this point to be a striking versatile actor, and the films distributor, Oscillioscope (founded by Beastie Boy Adam Yauch) is shaping up to be a formidable independent company, as evident by past successes Wendy & Lucy, and last year's The Messenger, which managed two Oscar nominations for supporting actor and original screenplay.  Howl may not duplicate that success, but if nothing else it should be an interesting story.

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.