Meryl Streep Won an Oscar!!!!!!!

The biggest, and only wow moment of this years Academy Awards came when Colin Firth announced the winner for Best Actress.  The pundits, bloggers, Oscar-enthusiasts and general movie-loving contingent all pretty much concluded that Viola Davis would victor friend and champion Meryl Streep for her confident and moving performance in The Help.  She not just elevated an okay movie, but made such a significant mark for both the feature and herself by the assured and intelligent gracefulness that she presented through the entire awards seasons-- it's as though she was modeled and trained by Streep herself.  The shock and awe affect was when Firth announced not Viola, but Meryl, and the shock-wave it sends to the central nervous system of every movie lover I feel was palpable.  Not because Streep necessarily deserved it this year for her strong work in the less than okay The Iron Lady, but because the power and awesomeness of this creature, the graceful epitome of ridiculous acclamations like "The Greatest Living Actress" is worn with such a knowing self-awareness and good natured humor that it's impossible not be overjoyed by her presence.  My instincts were a roller coaster ride of emotions.  Firstly, of "WTF?," I bet on Davis, and I have money on the line.  Secondly of, well I still think Davis deserved it this year.  But lastly and ultimately as Streep took the stage was the formidable thought Meryl Streep hasn't won an Oscar in 29 years, and this is the first in my lifetime.  She was gracious as usual, but this wasn't a typical Streep speech-- she seemed nervous, almost on the verge of tears...in shock like the rest of us.  And unlike the millions of gut-busting Golden Globe and SAG speeches she's delivered in recent years, there was absolutely nothing canned about it-- she seemed even more in those brief minutes than in the entirety of The Iron Lady.  In the lovely self-deprecating way she said, "I know this will be the last time," it's hard not to feel joyously in love with this woman.  Also, she gave the best speech of the evening, so I can't feel to bad on my Oscar ballot loss...I still won for those who care!

Abridged, but nonetheless sublime.

84th Annual Academy Awards: It's a Wrap!!!

PICTURE: The Artist
DIRECTOR: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist
ACTOR: Jean Dujardin, The Artist
ACTRESS: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
SUPPORTING ACTOR: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Octavia Spencer, The Help
ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: Midnight in Paris- Woody Allen
ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: The Descendants- Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon & Jim Rash
ANIMATED FEATURE: Rango
DOCUMENTARY: Undefeated
FOREIGN FILM: A Separation
ART DIRECTION: Hugo- Dante Ferretti & Francesca Lo Schiavo
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Hugo- Robert Richardson
COSTUME DESIGN: The Artist- Mark Bridges
FILM EDITING: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo- Kirk Baxter & Angus Wall
ORIGINAL SCORE: The Artist- Ludovic Bource
ORIGINAL SONG: "Man or Muppet," The Muppets
DOCUMENTARY SHORT: Saving Face
ANIMATED SHORT: The Fantastic Flying Books of Morris Lessmore
LIVE ACTION SHORT: The Shore
SOUND MIXING: Hugo
SOUND EDITING: Hugo
MAKE-UP: The Iron Lady
VISUAL EFFECTS: Hugo

The Weinstein Company would like to remind you that Meryl Streep hasn't won an Oscar in 29 Years!

Tacky? Perhaps, but no less than Melissa Leo's odd self-campaigning last year.  Plus, it's kind of nice to see some dirty play in this years more maudlin race.  The real news might be the borderline offense pulled, as Academy rules specify that mentioning prior performances or films in their campaigns are a no-no!

The Iron Lady

There's always a difficult tightrope that must be walked when making a biography film about a controversial historical figure.  The tone, it seems, matters more than the performance more times than not-- even if it's the performance that always must invariably carry the picture.  There must be, at some end, I suppose, a conscious decision of said person.  Oliver Stone has walked this murky path several times, with varying degrees of success-- spinning his liberal conspiracy theories on several US presidents, typically throwing away accuracy, consistency of tone, even logic aside to distill his nervy point of view.  Just in the past two months, Clint Eastwood struggled with his J. Edgar tale with his cultural reverence and political timidity weighing down the figure's controversy and unpopularity.  Now Margaret Thatcher gets the big screen treatment in a wacky new mess directed by Phyllida Lloyd (Mamma Mia!) and written by Abi Morgan (Shame), both of whom leave the heavy lifting to it's leading lady, Meryl Streep.  Whether due to sheepishness or reluctance of convictions, The Iron Lady succumbs to typical biopic standards of greatest hits speechifying and meandering thoughtlessness; any verve or style or hard-pressing dialogue of Thatcher-the-woman vs. Thatcher-the-politican is dismissed in favor of it's leading lady's technical grace.

That grace is pure, as Streep is as thrilling and commanding as ever.  Of course, that's hardly surprising-- this great actress has always been such a fine technician and a joyful presence.  All of her legendary qualities are put on display from the outset-- the voice, the poise, the pearls that Thatcher loves so, but what makes the performance pop in such a vibrant way (one that the film itself has no idea of what do with) is the great sense of texture and nuance she brings to her Thatcher, one that despite the filmmaker's all too quiet reverence, doesn't let her off the hook so easily, but presents a challenging portrait of a challenging woman whose decisions invariably, and unfortunately, are still being felt today.  Streep has also always been kind of a ham, and that marvel that comes through when a character that she can bite her teeth into comes her way, there's always been a certain charm to it.  Too bad nearly everything that surrounds this adept and powerful character study is nearly all a waste.

Like J. Edgar, The Iron Lady is framed by the old icon looking back-- in this case, we meet a present-day Margaret, applied with heavy make-up work for Streep.  She's a recluse for the most part, battling dementia, eating breakfast with Denis (Jim Broadbent-- the go-to prestige Brit actor to tango with legends playing legends losing their minds; also included Iris), her long deceased husband.  Seen as increasingly over-the-top stages of grief, Thatcher looks back at her life-- her drive and fortitude that brought her from a small-town grocer's daughter to Oxford graduate to the first female Prime Minister of Great Britain.  Framed more so by montage than flashback, the primary chord of The Iron Lady is that of feminist pride.  And by which there is nothing wrong with-- whatever one may feel about Thatcher's politics, her decisions, or the repercussions of both-- there is always something moving about anyone outside who can join the ranks of the all-white-male party and not only stand beside them, but move above them.  There's a certain flake that the movie can be forgiven for because of that; it is the fault of the film that, however, that any of the criticism or cultural distress caused by Thatcher gets nearly thrown away or white-washed completely, or turned-off in the case of a slightly unflattering TV news program.  It would almost feel akin to a Hitler biopic that fails to mention the Nazis.  Reckless and irresponsible, but also a missed opportunity, for Thatcher's story-- while perhaps permanently at odds--  is a compelling one.

Feminist agenda and white-washing of history aside, there's one big piece of bull that discredits the film from any serious merit.  When the young Thatcher, then a determined outside named Margaret Roberts (played by Alexandra Roach) meets her future husband- young Denis is played by Harry Lloyd, she makes a pointed speech she makes after he proposes-- that she, a grand lady of many speeches to come, will never the be the dutiful housewife type, she is meant and destined to do and serve and blather, blather, blather.  The saddest and most difficult thing to swallow in The Iron Lady is while Thatcher's determination of reminded (yet hardly taken into actual account) in scene after scene, the film succumbs to a simple, stand by your man theme that feels fake, not just its conceit, but to Thatcher herself, and the great services that Streep does in embodying her.

There's an even nuttier spin as the film meanders to it's climax, as we spend more time with the losing-her-grips modern day Thatcher.  She's drinking too much and dismissive of her ill health, and while Streep and Broadbent appear to be having marvelous actorly play, there's an altogether strange and baroque undercurrent to the way Lloyd films the last stretch of the film.  Shot in bizarre angles (and while it may appear to be an improvement from the stilted shots of Mamma Mia), it has a jarring, almost horror fun-house effect.  The Iron Lady moves away from conservative porn to Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? campiness, with nothing but the stern, but surely tired, shoulders of Streep keeping it afloat.  The actress does her part, and her legend will remain intact, but this film doesn't deserve it in the least. D+

New York Film Critics Circle

And we're off...

PICTURE: The Artist
DIRECTOR: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist
ACTOR: Brad Pitt, Moneyball & The Tree of Life
ACTRESS: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
SUPPORTING ACTOR: Albert Brooks, Drive
SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Jessica Chastain, The Tree of Life, The Help & Take Shelter
SCREENPLAY: Moneyball- Steven Zailian & Aaron Sorkin
CINEMATOGRAPHY: The Tree of Life- Emmanuel Lubezki
DOCUMENTARY: Cave of Forgotten Dreams
FOREIGN FILM: A Separation
FIRST FEATURE: Margin Call- J.C. Chandor

The first of the majors to come out the gate, the New York Film Critics offer some illumination and also a bit of bah-humbug for gone conclusions.  Firstly, hurrah is in order in the final swoop by announcing The Artist with best of honors over the likely more predicted The Tree of Life and The Descendants (shockingly snubbed), and for Albert Brooks way-too-cool mention...one that I still find hard to buy that the fuss-backs of the Academy will truly appreciate.  Cave of Forgotten Dreams mentioned as Best Documentary was a subtle middle finger for the branch that failed to shortlist Werner Herzog's 3-D art history lesson, and Margin Call is a subtle and informed choice for Best First Feature (even if it slighted a first feature I admired slightly more in Martha Marcy May Marlene.)

The rest, well reeks a bit of the expected, not that it's undeserving.  Brad Pitt has had an exceptional 2011 with his most poised and assured performance to date with Moneyball and amassed artistic cred while working with one of the greatest auteurs of all time in The Tree of Life; certainly feels like it's his time and winning his first NYFCC award is the best way to start his awards adventure.  Meryl Streep, winning for her still-unreleased Margaret Thatcher biopic The Iron Lady is another thing altogether-- this is certainly not her first NYFCC award; she won in fact two years ago for Julie & Julia, however sight unseen, she will be nominated, all doubts removed for a legend of her stature could coast without this achievement-- with it, there's little to fight.  She's won this round Glenn Close.  Jessica Chastain, having the most banner year of any American actor this year had to settle for tying her Supporting Actress prize with only three of her nine thousand 2011 entries...for the record, I'm on team Take Shelter.  Lubezki's cinematography prize was a forgone conclusion, and that category should now be stricken from the record from any other critical organization...I still have a chill that this mastermind behind the camera will swoop up everything but the Nobel Prize only to lose the Oscar to War Horse.

Of all the mess and analysis of the NYFCC moving up there date for whatever reason, I suppose it matters nil after the fact...they likely would have voted similarly anyway-- perhaps I'm only being kind since The Artist is on top...and of that film, I certainly hope it makes it past the inevitably murky paths of first play awards exhaustion.  For the record, the only film that was not screened (at least the only one publicly kvetched about) was Stephen Daldry's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close-- perhaps that was an intentional thing at that...

Kudos to the NYFCC for not even bothering with an Animated Feature category this year...why bother?

The Iron Lady one-sheet

Not quite sold on the poster, nor the film itself, but like the image itself, I'm compelled enough to calm my doubts about the director of Mamma Mia! (Phyllida Lloyd) doing a serious biography picture.  I just pray she's learned basic filmmaking tools in the three year interim-- like how to use a camera.

The Iron Lady, or Meryl Streep's Third Oscar?

"That's the tone that we want to strike."

I'm conflicted by the tone that the teaser trailer to The Iron Lady, the latest Oscar bid for Meryl Streep, wants to strike.  It's staged almost as a parody, or drawing board comedy, with a big crescendo-like gravitas in musical score.  Streep will portray Margaret Thatcher which will nonetheless be huge awards bait regardless of the films actual quality.  What's even more worrisome is that she's reuniting with her Mamma Mia! director, Phyllida Lloyd, in what should be an interesting, rousing drama.  Let's hope Lloyd has learned how to use a camera in the interim.

poll by twiigs.com

Horrible Bosses, Zookeepers, and Rap Stars

The big movie of the weekend, but probably not big enough to knock Transformers: Dark of the Moon out of the top spot, is Horrible Bosses, the latest R-rated comedy of the summer, this one about a bunch of dudes who want to knack each others bosses out-- am I the only one who counts this as a dumbed down version of Strangers on a Train, presumably with lots of fart and boob jokes.  Anyhow it's gotten me thinking about the greatest horrible boss the cinema has ever presented: Meryl Streep's wicked and monstrous Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, this year celebrating its five year anniversary; I can't believe time is moving by so fast, it seems like just yesterday she was torturing Anne Hathaway and playfully zipping her catchphrase, "That's all!" in such whispered, but frightening beats.  The majesty of the performance is Streep's hellbent commitment, and pleasure of it comes from the understated nuances of her creation, thinly veiled as Vogue's Anna Wintour; she comes within an inch of caricature, but retreats ever so, and so gracefully, that she comes across just human enough to be given credibility, but salacious and pointed to the point of mass hilarity.

An aside, Horrible Bosses, stars Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, Charlie Day, Kevin Spacey, Jennifer Aniston, Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx.  Am I the only who feels that this might be a funny idea, but the trailer plays ridiculously flat.

Also opening this week:

• Zookeeper- The latest Kevin James comedy (he talks to animals)
• Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of a Tribe Named Quest- Documentary from Michael Rapaport (limited release.)
• The Ledge- Thriller starring Terrence Howard, Patrick Wilson and Liv Tyler (limited release.)
• Project Nim- Sundance favorite from director James Marsh (Oscar winner for Man on Wire; limited release.)

Doubt Trailer

Directed by John Patrick Shanley (Moonstruck)

Stars: Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams and Viola Davis.

Meryl looks good...Oscar number 3? The source material won pretty much theater prize known including a Pulitzer, can the film expand that without being too stagey?