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Go Softly On...
January is a painfully slow month for movie critics. After the frenzy of December, it can be considered a relief, but the fall-off is almost too sudden and dramatic. It's easy to get into a pattern of seeing four or five movies a week and writing late-night reviews for availability the next day. However, based on the current release schedule, I will have between nine and 11 new reviews this month, and several will be day-of-release reviews (due to a lack of press screenings: Primeval, The Hitcher, etc.). This limitation of new theatrical fare is typical of January. The reason is twofold: studios are ramping out prestige films that received limited release in late December and potential bad weather in many northern cities can limit movie-going. (Thus far, this has not been the case across most of the United States, Denver excepted). This lack of multiplex activity is why I often use the month to tinker with the site. 2007's changes won't be dramatic, since I revamped the site last November, but there will be some changes.
The new "look" will stay much the same, although I will debut a new logo within the next week or two. The old one worked well for the old look of the site, but it isn't well-matched to the way things look now. Pages with dark backgrounds will gradually be updated to be more in line with the current look of the site. (The Archives page in particular looks strange with the white search bar in the midst of all the darkness.) As far as ads are concerned, I don't see any changes in the near future. I may incorporate product from other ad providers but the current "ad areas" will stay as they are (they won't be expanded).
Speaking of ads, some readers have been critical but, for those who believe the site has turned into nothing more than a commercial repository, I have avoided a number of intrusive techniques that other sites use. I have not interrupted reviews with ads. (For example, after about two paragraphs, there's an ad that must be scrolled past to get to the rest of the text.) While I can appreciate that some readers may be distracted by an ad to the right of a review, imagine how much more annoying things could get... I also have not broken the reviews into multiple pages in a transparent attempt to cram more ad impressions into one review. And, as I have written in the past, as long as I keep my day job, there will be no pop-unders. The revenue from those is impressive, but I won't open that stream until I need the money, which isn't the case now. Still, if I could find a lucrative means of advertising, I would gladly reduce the number of ads. I bow to necessity, but I don't welcome it. After all, I kept ReelViews non-commercial for a decade. (Cue the broken record...)
Video Views will have a new theme for 2007: "Sublime and Ridiculous." Every month I will post one new review of an older movie in the "Sublime" category and one in the "Ridiculous" category. The rules by which a movie will be assigned to one category or the other will be flexible. Essentially, "Sublime" is a drama or a classic. "Ridiculous" is anything else. So, for example, Brazil will classified as "Ridiculous" (despite having substantial depth) while Breezy will be "Sublime." Don't make too much out of the categorizations - it's just a way to provide some variety in the kinds of older movies being reviewed.
ReelThoughts will continue with a goal of two new posts per week on average. At the moment, I have a backlog of topics to address and not a lot of new movies to see, so the frequency may be up over the next few weeks. I also have a few housekeeping issues to address, including adding three new titles to the Top 100. Those should be up before the end of January. I won't announce them here, but not all are from the 2006 roster (in fact, only one is).
The Slide
It has begun, or so the experts say...
What has begun? The erosion of DVD profits. According to Pali Research analysts Richard Greenfield and Mark Smaldon (see this link), 2007 will be the first year in the relatively short history of the now-popular format that DVD sales are expected to drop. It's not hard to fathom why. Popular catalog titles have been used up so all that's left are new releases (some of which will sell well, others of which will not) and double/triple/quadruple dip Special/ Director's/ Anniversary/ Deluxe/ Unrated editions that often receive a lukewarm response. You can't generate additional profits when there's a lack of product, and there are only so many ways a movie can be repackaged. (The only thing that gets me to re-buy a movie is if the video or audio is remastered. It's a rarity that I buy something for new special features, although I did break down And purchase a second copy of Casablanca because I wanted Bacall on Bogart.)
So how much will the pie be reduced? By about 1%, say the analysts. At first, that doesn't sound too bad - until you consider that 1% represents about $230 MILLION. Ouch. Or, looking at it from another perspective, that's about 10 million fewer discs sold in 2007 than in 2006.
Hollywood had hoped that by now high-def DVDs would be picking up enough steam to make up for the regular DVD fall-off, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen. There are some positive developments on the horizon geared toward minimizing the impact of the format war, such as Warner's media that will encode both HD-DVD and Blu-Ray versions of one film on a single disc. There are two issues with that approach: What's it going to cost ($40 per disc?) and will anyone other than Warner Brothers agree to package their movies this way? Then there's the long-awaited combo player that is supposed to make its debut in 2007. Again, cost is an issue. In order to become a mainstream item, the price has to drop below $500 and I would be surprised if this item debuts at less than $1000. Until prices get in line with what consumers expect, high def DVDs will remain niche market items. Remember that it wasn't just portability and superior quality that catapulted DVDs into the mainstream - it was the sub-$200 (now sub-$100) players.
The impact of movie downloads is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, many experts agree that this is the wave of the future. On the other hand, the future isn't here yet and every sale of a download eliminates a DVD sale. (How many people are going to buy a DVD copy and download a copy?) At this point, movie downloaders aren't numerous because in most houses, computers and TVs are separate entities. (Mine included: I have a "computer room" and a "home theater" and they're on different floors.) This will gradually change as the idea of the computer running the home entertainment system becomes more popular. As more houses get digital TVs and have wireless capabilities, the concept should catch on. Eventually, most TVs will have access to huge hard drives (hundreds of TerraBytes) filled with high def movies that can be accessed and played in an instant. Many of those movies will have been downloaded (either purchased or rented). How far away is this? Probably 5-10 years. It won't kill the DVD (at least not instantly), but it may represent the death knell for the small niche high def DVD. Consider the DVD/VHS/laserdisc model. The surge in DVD popularity killed the niche laserdisc almost overnight. The DVD eventually vanquished VHS, but it took a lot longer. That could be what will happen with downloading ten years from now. If you decide to go the high def DVD route, be aware that it may not be a long-term solution.
My expectation is that studios are going to become more aggressive about double-dipping on hot movies. We'll probably see movie-only DVD versions of blockbusters on shelves 3-4 months after the movie's debut. Then, a year after the theatrical release, there will be a deluxe box set. This approach worked extremely well for New Line and The Lord of the Rings. It was less successful, but by no means a failure, with King Kong and The Chronicles of Narnia. Don't be surprised if a movie-only Spider-Man 3 arrives on DVD in late summer/early fall with a box set to follow next year. Packages like this rope fans in by promising them a copy of the film quickly (the quicker the better, since it stems the desire to obtain an illegal copy) then extra content later. By the time they're done spending, they will have dropped $40-$50 (including discounts) on one title.
I believe these predictions based on my experiences. Five years ago, I purchased about 200 DVDs. Last year, it was about 50 (and some of those were TV series box sets). This year, it will probably be between 30 and 40. I'm selective and the number of new DVDs that excites me is becoming less numerous. Of course, this could lead to a discussion about how an upsurge in film quality might produce additional sales, but that's another topic for another day.
Immersive
For one day, let me switch from discussing movies to discussing books.
When I read fiction, I place it in one of three categories: filler, page-turner, or immersive. Further explanation is probably useful. "Filler" is something that doesn't intrigue or interest me a lot, but which I keep reading. I am notorious for finishing books once I start them; I have probably stopped mid-way through less than ten books in my life. "Filler" novels, however, often take a long time to get through - a chapter in a doctor's waiting room, a chapter while sitting in a movie theater before the film rolls, a chapter while getting my car's oil changed... "Page turners" are what they claim to be - books with momentum, which I keep reading to get to the end. As novels are defined, these are disposable entertainment, forgotten soon after, but they're fun while being read. I consider them the junk food of the publishing world. "Immersive" books are my "holy grail." To follow the previous metaphor, they are complete, multi-course meals, full of substance and offering satisfaction on many levels. They draw me in and make me want to continue - not just to get to the end, but to spend time with the characters and invest in their situations. It's easy for me to identify an immersive book once I have read a few chapters - I don't want to arrive at the last page because I don't want to leave the characters behind.
My reading is not genre limited. I will read almost anything. In the past, I have displayed a preference for fantasy and mysteries, but those don't define the boundaries of my reading. Lately, though, I have been disappointed by the lack of immersive books. Much of what I read in 2006 fell into either the "page turner" or "filler" categories. I have especially been let down by fantasy, having quit mid-way through one book (Eragon) in disgust and having given up on another series between the second and third books (Rhapsody etc.) because it wasn't grabbing me. I like George R.R. Martin, but he's becoming long-winded. I am a firm believer that if a series goes beyond five volumes, it's too long. I won't even discuss Robert Jordan - no author has been more guilty of milking the golden cow than him. His last two novels have been unreadable.
The last three books I read are Manhunt, The Time Traveler's Wife, and Wild Fire (with a re-read of The Children of Men thrown in there for good measure, shortly before I saw the movie). James L. Swanson's Manhunt is non-fiction (about the assassination of Lincoln and the subsequent hunt for John Wilkes Booth), so it is not subject to categorization. However, I found the book to be a page-turner; it's written more like a narrative than a text book. This is the kind of material that should be mandated for high school reading - it would involve and interest students more than what's currently being offered. I loved Audrey Niffengger's The Time Traveler's Wife, which is a romance thinly disguised as science fiction. It's the first immersive book I have enjoyed since P.D. James' The Lighthouse and Stephen Donaldson's The Runes of the Earth. (Both authors should again publish in 2008. Sadly, that may be James' final novel since she's almost 90 years old.) Finally, Wild Fire, by Nelson DeMille, is a page-turner. Despite a backstory involving global terrorism, this is pretty much a straightforward cop thriller. It's compelling reading but I felt let down by the standard ending, which has the bad guy revealing his entire plot while holding the good guy at gunpoint.
I have moved on to Katherine Kurtz's In the King's Service and Childe Morgan. Neither has gotten glowing reviews, but I have been riveted by some of Kurtz's past books so I decided to give these a try. Presumably, they're the first two books in a trilogy, although the second one is extremely short (about 250 pages - almost unheard of for a fantasy novel when Jordan and Martin are turning out 800 page volumes). It has, however, been tough going getting into In the King's Service.
Maybe it's a product of age and nostalgia, but I can recall a time when I found nearly everything to be immersive. During my first semester at college, when the classes were easy and the workload light, I had a lot of time for reading. (I was not a social butterfly - no surprise there - and my dorm room included a radio but little else.) I explored worlds created by David Eddings, Wilkie Collins, Len Deighton, and Charles Dickens. I re-visited Tolstoy and Winston Graham. And I discovered Kurtz. It should be noted that there was a lot less fantasy available in 1985 than there is today.
For me, there has been no greater disappointment over the years than David Eddings. I loved his The Belgariad. The plot is pure formula, heavily inspired by The Lord of the Rings (which, for the record, I first read in 1978), but that didn't diminish my enjoyment of it. The thing that makes the books come alive are the characters. Despite living their lives against a familiar tapestry, they are real and fresh and likable. There's even a cute romance (something not found in Tolkien). Sadly, after The Belgariad, Eddings went downhill fast. His books have devolved from perfunctory (The Mallorean, a pointless and unnecessary sequel to The Belgariad) to uninspired (two Sparhawk trilogies) to unreadable (everything subsequent). However, at least Eddings fell apart over the course of several series. Robert Jordan has accomplished that within one never-ending story. I got into The Wheel of Time on the strength of its first two volumes as they came out. Since then, it has turned into an endurance contest. The finish line is supposedly in sight and I don't care.
I love reading because of the worlds it opens up. Plus, it's not scheduled - you can read whenever, wherever, for however long. But the fewer and further between I encounter immersive books, the sadder I become. Most best-sellers seem to be flashy and superficial. Finding literature to touch the heart and soul is becoming a rarity. There's a pull toward old favorites. They may not offer the sense of discovery that a new book can, but they provide a sense of comfort that is only available in the familiar. Here's hoping 2007 finds a handful of immersive books passing across my desk. (Suggestions are, as always, welcome - I wouldn't have read The Time Traveler's Wife if not for my wife.)
2007: The Year of the High Def DVD?
Not quite, or at least not as I see it.
Despite the protestations of some e-mailers, there is nothing to indicate that 2007 is going to be the break-out year for high-def DVDs, regardless of whether they are referring to Blu-Ray, HD-DVD, or some combination thereof. I'm going to present my position as clearly as I can and I'm going to do it two ways: by the numbers and using common sense. (Note: I would LOVE for high-def DVDs to succeed, but I don't see it happening. And with the way high def downloads appear to be gaining momentum – fueled by Apple and their I-everything subsidiaries - there's less likelihood this format will ever gain traction. More on that later.)
Reportedly, about 175,000 HD-DVD players were sold last year. Blu-Ray player sales are more ambiguous, but it's probably around 700,000 (with most of those being PS3s). Being generous, let's say there were 1,000,000 high def players out there as of New Year's Day. More will undoubtedly be sold by the end of 2007. Sony believes that combined PS3/Blu-Ray player sales will top 5 million. Toshiba is betting on 2.5 million. Considering some of the low-price options for HD-DVD, Toshiba might not be far off. But Sony needs a reality check. PS3 is not being well-received by the general public and, while it's too early to label it a "failure," a "disappointment" isn't an understatement. Blu-Ray player cost (either stand-alone or as part of the PS3) is a major issue. But let's assume Blu-Ray can match HD-DVD at 2.5 million. Ignoring the fact that they are incompatible formats, there could be 6 million high def DVD players floating around by next Christmas. (For the moment, I am discounting LG's combo player which, at $1200, is not a mainstream item.)
Six million units might seem to be a lot, but consider that there are currently 121 million standard DVD players in U.S. homes. Now the picture changes. The assumption is, of course, that there will be a slow, steady ramp-up to HD format across-the-board, but this is flawed thinking. Certainly, that's what's going to happen with HDTVs - 13.5 million sold in 2006 (making about 30 million out there), 16.0 million are projected for 2007. But high def DVD players are not the same thing as HDTVs. There are many issues surrounding high def DVD - the format war, the high price point, and the average viewer's satisfaction with standard DVD - that will impede it from taking off and going into the stratosphere where the studios want it.
One year from now, with all the early adopters and high income videophiles on board, the high def DVD sellers will have to figure out how to get average Joes to buy. It won't be an easy sell. High def DVD quality is observably better than that of standard DVD, but it's not *WOW* better (I have done the subjective A/B tests for 480p vs. 1080p). And it's pricey. $400 for an HD-DVD player... that might get some takers. $700 for a Blu-Ray player... not likely. $1200 for a combo player... no chance. After spending $2000 on a 45" LCD HDTV, how many consumers are going to have another grand lying around for a new kind of DVD player? The likely refrain: "I'd let to get that high-def DVD player some time, but for now by old reliable DVD player will do just fine."
This is where common sense comes in. The portion of the population that will be amazed by high def DVD is relatively small. In part because of its price and in part because Sony has alienated a sizable portion of the console buying population, PS3 is not going to be Blu-Ray's salvation. I know a gamer who owns two Gameboys, one PSP, one PS2, one X-Box, and one X-Box 360. I asked him about the PS3 and he said to forget about it, although maybe he'll get a Wii. This isn't the kind of thing PlayStation 3 boosters like to hear about, but it's what average consumers are saying, and average consumers are going to be the ones who drive (or fail to drive) the adoption of high def DVDs.
Every day, the high def DVD/standard DVD situation reminds me more of the laserdisc/VHS situation (with a format war thrown in to complicate matters). Laserdiscs offered better quality than VHS in terms of both audio and video, but came with a price tag - a more expensive player and more expensive movie titles. Laserdiscs never attained mainstream popularity; however, they were the bread-and-butter of videophiles. How different is this from today's market? History repeats itself.
What could save high def DVD and make it a mainstream option? Three things have to happen. First, the format war has to end - and soon. Even with compromises in the works (LG's combo player may be adopted by other manufacturers and Warner Brothers has a disc format that will include HD-DVD and Blu-Ray versions of a title on one disc), there's still a big confusion factor to be overcome. Only a single unified format will eliminate that. (This is why it was crucial that DIVX – a potential alternative DVD format - died a quick death when DVD was going through its birth pains.) However, with Toshiba and Sony girding their loins for major skirmishes in 2007, that doesn't look likely. Second, the number of high profile, "I want that!" high def software titles has to expand (this will happen in 2007) and the prices have to stabilize at about the same point as standard DVDs (it's uncertain whether this is realistic – right now there's a $5 to $10 difference per title). Finally, the players need to crash below the $500 barrier, and probably get to around $200. That's not out of the question for HD-DVD but it seems unlikely for Blu-Ray or any combo player.
Given five or ten years in an uncompetitive marketplace, high def DVD might be able to catch on. But the new kid may be on the block before the end of the year. Apple's announcement of the "Apple TV" device (at about $300) makes the future a lot closer now that it will be possible to download movies and play them with little fuss on a TV. There are rumors (at this point, only rumors) that I-Tunes may begin offering high definition content before the end of the year. In that case, high def DVD could be dead before it ever really gets going, a victim in part of the corporate greed and hubris that can be accused of killing a golden calf.
Friday Afternoon at the Multiplex
It's multiplex bashing time again! This is a semi-regular event in this space because the more time I spend in multiplexes, the more irritated I become. At this time of the year, with so many general releases falling into the "not screened for critics" category, I spend a lot of time as a paying customer (although considering some of what I am paying for, the word "robbery" comes to mind).
Of the next nine movies I plan to review, only four have announced pre-release screenings (Catch and Release, Because I Said So, The Lives of Others, Norbit). Three appear to be on the "not for critics" menu (The Hitcher, Epic Movie, The Messengers). Two are on the bubble, which means no screenings have been announced but something could pop up at the last minute (Smokin' Aces, Hannibal Rising). If Smokin' Aces is pre-screened, I can probably fit in Blood and Chocolate, which is being hidden from critics. Irrespective of how things turn out, this means I will be spending a couple of hours during at least each of the next three Fridays (weather permitting) at a 24-plex in Hamilton, NJ.
My preference is to go to the first showing on opening day, which is usually around 11:00 am. There are several advantages to this strategy: it limits crowd interference, it gives me most of the day to write the review, and it's cheap. (AMC has a policy that on Fridays all matinees before noon are $5.) There's never a problem with seat availability, so I can arrive fifteen minutes late, thereby missing all commercials and most of the previews (which I don't enjoy as much as some movie-goers because of their tendency to give away the entire movie). This brings me to my last two excursions to a multiplex.
A few weeks ago, I wandered into the multiplex to watch Deck the Halls. It was showing in a nice, big auditorium - at least 450 seats. I was the only one there. So I sat in a centrally located seat and began viewing the movie, which started so out-of-focus as to be unwatchable. (In retrospect, it didn't matter, but I digress...) I endured this for a few minutes, hoping someone in the booth would notice. (Fat chance.) Eventually, I had to abandon my barely-warmed seat and go hunting for someone who could call the booth and let the projectionist know there was a problem. I returned to my seat. Several people had entered the theater in my absence and none appeared bothered by the lack of visual clarity. Five minutes later, when the problem was not fixed, I again went in search of someone. This time, the projectionist was alerted and the problem was resolved - nearly fifteen minutes into the movie. Is it too much for me to ask that a film be in frame and in focus? I can understand unexpected technical problems, but how much effort is involved in checking every film as it starts (or shortly thereafter) and make sure it meets certain basic standards? What am I paying money for if not that? I should not have to go searching the vast corridors of a multiplex looking for an employee to fix something that shouldn't have been "broken" in the first place.
Last Friday, I ventured out to the same multiplex to see Primeval, which the studio wisely decided not to unveil beforehand. Once again, the auditorium (a smaller one) was empty - at least to start with. The movie was in frame and in focus. I slumped back in my seat to "enjoy" the proceedings. Twenty-five minutes into the movie, a group of four entered, talking loudly and stomping up the stairs. Despite their being approximately 250 empty seats in the theater, they decided to sit directly behind me, continuing to talk and chomp on their popcorn. In the past, I have made polite requests for quiet from people like these (often to little effect), but the movie had already put me in a bad mood so I simply moved to a less desirable but more remote seat. They appeared offended. Thirty minutes later, they departed, still talking and stomping and leaving one of their number behind. I don't blame the theater for this - there's not a lot they can do to police the conduct of patrons (although it would be nice if they employed enough people to do this). I blame today's culture which says its okay to treat a movie theater like a living room and where the concept of "consideration" is beyond too many people's realm of experience.
Readers occasionally write to complain that I'm too "down" on theaters, but these are recent, concrete examples of why that's the case. There's nothing wrong with the theatrical experience in theory, but it's the reality that makes it something to be dreaded rather than embraced. For many of us, movie-going isn't enjoyable - at best, it's something to be tolerated. And these two incidents I have related are mild compared to some of the horror stories I have heard. One of my favorites was told to me by my wife about a woman changing a baby in the auditorium.
Today's multiplex lifeblood is the teen crowd. On non-school nights, teenagers flock there, using theaters as hangouts. (This has replaced my generation's gathering place, the mall.) Often, the film is of secondary importance - it's a social occasion. For as long as this trend continues, multiplexes don't have to worry that they have alienated childless adults and those who want a quieter, less frantic experience. But when the kids find something else to do, as is inevitable, that's when theaters will wish they had been more considerate to those patrons who have constructed nice home theaters where they no longer have to deal with the collateral damage that accompanies the average multiplex screening. It's harder to attract customers than it is to lose them. Theaters have accomplished the latter; it remains to be seen whether they'll be able to do the former.
And the Winner Is...
I hate this PC crap. Why does it have to be "And the Oscar goes to..." instead of "And the Winner is..."? Does the wording make the losers feel better? "Hey, I didn't lose. The Oscar just went to someone else." Stupid, stupid, stupid... But that's not what this column is about.
For those who view the Oscars as a competition, 2007 is a depressing year. The nominations haven't been announced and we already know with pretty good certainty who the winners are in most of the major categories. Want a list? Best Actor - Forest Whitaker. Best Actress - Helen Mirren. Best Supporting Actress - Jennifer Hudson. Best Supporting Actor - Eddie Murphy. Best Director - Martin Scorsese. Best Foreign Language Film - Pan's Labyrinth. (Assuming Letters from Iwo Jima isn't eligible - did Japan nominate it?) Notably missing from this list is Best Picture, because it's still a toss-up among Dreamgirls, The Departed, and Babel. (My money's on Dreamgirls, but this one is not sewn up and the tide could shift between now and when the ballots are due.)
So there's no suspense, but there hasn't been much for the past few years. Sure, Crash was a bit of a surprise, but when one underwhelming film overwhelms another, where's the satisfaction? Spontaneity is as absent from the Oscars as surprises are. I'm sure this gratifies those who like things to move like clockwork, but it's not fun for those watching on television. This year, my plan is to use the DVR and watch the whole show in less than 45 minutes. That's more than enough time to catch the few worthwhile crumbs the telecast drops in our path.
Not that long ago, the scandal surrounding the Oscars was that some distributors (Miramax) were "buying" Oscars for their films. This was accomplished through enormous marketing campaigns. Today, winners are pre-determined before the nominations are announced. A certain amount of money needs to be spent to keep Helen Mirren's name in the air, but no one needs to buy her the Oscar. Her performance and the associated hype surrounding it accomplished that feat.
Lots of people watch the Oscars. It's the second most watched TV show behind that other overblown, overhyped event: the Superbowl. (Though I am a sports fan, the only time I watch the Superbowl is on those rare occasions when the Eagles get there.) Ooops, that may be a faux pas. I'm not sure I'm allowed to write "Superbowl." It may be that I'm supposed to call it "The Big Game." But back to the Oscars... If most of the winners are pre-determined, why bother? Because the Academy Awards (like all awards shows) are no longer about winners and losers. They are about the world tuning in to watch Hollywood masturbate on live TV. That's what the Oscars have become - a great big circle jerk.
Who's wearing what? Who's sitting next to whom? Who are the best dressed and the worst dressed? Will Bjork wear another animal? The "Red Carpet" show, once ignored by television, has become a bigger event than the awards part of the evening. We watch not because we care who takes home the Best [Fill in the Blank] trophy or to hear how many lawyers and agents they can thank in 90 seconds (or however long it is) but because we want to see what they're wearing when they're up there. That's the real story of the night.
My wife pointed out that a self-confessed Filipino member of the HFPA wrote a day-after piece about the Golden Globes. What was his commentary about? The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat? The witty remarks made by Brits Bill Nighy and Hugh Laurie? Helen Mirren's two trips up the stairs? No, it was about who was sitting at what tables with whom. Is this bad journalism? Arguably not, because this is what the public wants. It's a symptom of the condition that feeds the paparazzi frenzy. Everyone says how evil these pushy, greedy photographers are, but the magazines that publish their work continue to make killings.
When it comes to the Oscars, any surprises come in the nominations. There are usually a few notable inclusions and exclusions. For example, if Maggie Gyllenhaal is nominated for Sherrybaby (review pending - probably next week), she can smile sweetly and say how pleased she is and how unexpected the nomination is. There's also no pressure to write an acceptance speech because Helen Mirren has this category so locked up that not even an expert safe cracker could steal it from her. If Gyllenhaal is ignored, she can smile sweetly and say she never expected to be nominated and those few film critics who have seen Sherrybaby can dress in sackcloth and bemoan the injustice that was done.
And so it goes when it comes to today's Academy Awards. The only thing that differentiates them from the countless other awards shows are the high production values, the huge TV audience, and the sense of pompous self-importance. Bring on the nominations...
The Hate Mail File
I promised a while ago to share some of the hate mail I have gotten. I often save these missives, although most of the recent ones haven't been as creative as some of the older classics. Generally, I don't respond to hate mail, since a response is what the mailer/baiter is looking for. (I'm convinced most of them are teenage boys.) So, without further ado, here are excerpts from some of the nasty e-mails I have gotten in recent months. The names have been deleted to protect the not-so-innocent.
E-mail #1:
"Hi, I would just like you to know that I hate movie critics because they don't represent the nation. Usually they don't find movies that most Americans like, good and they trash them, such as you James Berardinelli. I was looking at your reviews and it seems like you have no personality. Maybe that is because you look like a pathetic man who's hurting inside, but I could be wrong. Look man, if you are feeling bad, maybe you should go work out those muscles or something and stop taking it out on movies; not everyone is as humorless or stiff as you. Please quit reviewing movies and take some steroids, or eat a sandwich or two. Anorexia kills."
This guy will be pleased to know I have gained about ten pounds during the past year. Nice to know he was concerned about my health.
E-mail #2:
"You know what Mr. Berardinelli, you must be a racist of some sort and mad that a homeless black mad overcame odds that most Caucasians cannot even begin to overcome. Instead they write a note on a cardboard box telling people that they are homeless and need a handout, or become alcoholics, or drug addicts or blame the world for not being a success. You must be stuck on stupid and insensitive. If this were the story of a white guy overcoming the odds of being homeless and then becoming a multi-millionaire, you'd give the movie 4 stars - now wouldn't you. Please!!!!!! Anything to keep us down, but you won't succeed. You must be upset that he makes more money than you and you haven't had anything stand in your way of being successful. I think you need to go find a kite to fly!!!!"
College professors should use this reasoning for their logic classes. At least he spelled my name right.
E-mail #3:
"James, you remind me of this guy Roeper... You, along with Roeper & Ebert may be the Joseph Goebbels of film criticism. Shameless propagandist who know nothing about the history of film or film analysis who present their simpleminded opinion as fact. I am just appalled at how bad a critic you are. Read this piece about Roeper. It is basically how I feel about you."
Despite being insulting, this guy is obviously intelligent (he has thus far sent me a half-dozen e-mails and replies to responses) and is a good writer, so he's in a different category than the usual sender of hate mail. In the attached "piece," he goes on to complain that his main problem with Roeper is that the guy gives an opinion but never a reason for an opinion. Few would agree that's my problem since my thesis for every review is: tell the reader what you think of the movie and why you think that way. I agree with him: an opinion without a reason doesn't make for worthwhile reading, but I'm not sure why he's pinning this tail on my donkey. At any rate, I have never met Richard Roeper nor have I watched him opposite Ebert, so I can't comment about him. I wouldn't mind getting his salary, however. The Goebbels parallel is interesting; I wonder how Roger would feel about that. Next thing you know, someone will be comparing me to Hitler.
E-mail #4:
"I am a Oxford University English Literature student, and i have been reading your so-called Fantasy Novels online. I have to say that they are among some of the most awfully written peices of work i have ever read. They are incredibly cheesy and corny and your form of writing is pathetic. How you can criticise others when your work is that of a childs is beyond me. You're of no use to the human race what so ever. Instead you form as a figure of hilarity in this already mundane century. You're a joke. Your Novels are literally pathetically written and you have no talent what so ever... Your characters have no substance or depth, instead there weak and poorly written to the smallest detail. You don't seem to understand fine tuning of a script, and you have no right to criticise others when you obviously can't seem to do it yourself. You're a hack writer. You're an idiot who thinks sub-shakespearean pretentious pompous drivel for dialogue is profound and poetic. It literally offends me everytime i read another novel. i shan't be reading anything of yours again. You're a waste of time."
For an Oxford University English Literature student, this person has a shockingly limited grasp of things like spelling, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. My guess is that his only time spent at Oxford was on a tour. It's also curious that the e-mail refers to a script (which I have never written) and barely makes mention of my reviews. It's gratifying to know that one of my novels has had such a profound impact on someone - he apparently suffered a nervous breakdown as a result of reading it. Nothing else could possibly explain such a rambling e-mail.
Wasn't that fun?
Strange as it sounds, I enjoy getting hate mail. Most stuff like this is so bitter and incoherent that it's amusing to read, and there's no responsibility to respond to it. It is, however, disappointing that much of this mail has lost its edge. I can recall getting hate mail that was brilliantly written and had me laughing out loud. Oh well. I'll be back with another chapter in The Hate Mail Files once I have collected a few more worthy missives. That probably means tomorrow.
Off the Shelf
To begin with, thanks to everyone who sent book recommendations last week. I have already placed several orders and should have enough material to keep me occupied for the rest of the winter and into the spring. I have compiled a list with all of the recommended titles on it and will use that as a guideline for additional book purchases later in the year.
One off-shoot of the topic was that several readers were interested in a more complete catalog of books I have enjoyed and/or found meaningful over the years (those that fit into my "immersive" category). So I figured I would use today's column to provide a thumbnail look at my life as a reader. For those hoping for some of my trademark "negativity," you won't find it here. Come back later in the week when I let loose on Sundance with both barrels.
I have been a reader for longer than I have been a movie-lover. I saw my first theatrical movie in late 1976 at the age of nine. To be fair, I had watched a lot of (monster) movies on TV before that, but December 1976 was my first experience sitting in a theater. My adoration of films didn't come until 1991, after I graduated from college. It wasn't that I didn't see movies in my teens and early twenties, but I didn't see a lot of them. Ten per year would be about right. (Although, starting in 1985 when I got my first VCR, I ramped up on home video viewing. I can remember summers when a friend and I would watch two movies per night.)
I can't recall how old I was when I started reading books. Probably age five. I had four main interests at the time: dinosaurs, space, human anatomy, and (believe it or not) the American Revolution. There is an explanation for that last one. This was approximately 1972 or 1973 and the pre-Bicentennial hype was in full swing. I can't explain the human anatomy fascination. Dinosaurs and outer space are pretty normal interests for five year old boys.
By age seven, I was reading the Hardy Boys (and, in an admission I am embarrassed to make, I also read a few Nancy Drews - only when I ran out of Hardy Boys, of course). I was a few years early with these; by the time Shawn Cassidy, Parker Stevenson, and Pamela Sue Anderson made it to TV, I had moved on. I began reading "grown up books" a.k.a. novels at age eight or nine. I can't remember what my first one was but the first novels to impact me were the volumes of Winston Graham's Poldark Saga. At the time I started these, in 1977 at age nine, there were four available. That number jumped to seven in 1978. Three additional books were published in the '80s with two more in the '90s. I have copies of all twelve. They are among the best in historical fiction I have read (tracing the lives of the members of a Cornwall mine-owning family between 1780 and 1820), although I never would have discovered them without the two season, 29 episode BBC-TV production.
I became acquainted with fantasy in 1979 when a friend introduced me to that Satanic game, Dungeons and Dragons. I started, as might be expected, with The Lord of the Rings. I have a curiously vivid memory of reading The Two Towers while sitting in a dermatologist's office waiting to have a mole removed. I was twelve at the time. I followed this up with several of the Conan books and Stephen R. Donaldson's The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever. (Recommended by my seventh grade English teacher!) Donaldson introduced me to dark, depressing fantasy, although the first Chronicles were lighthearted compared to the follow-up trilogy. I know people who gave up on The Wounded Land, The One Tree, or White Gold Wielder because they couldn't cope with how hopeless the books had become. It didn't bother me. If you're going to have evil in a book, make it real evil - evil that desecrates, destroys, maims, and brutalizes. Anything less is pretend evil.
During my freshman and sophomore years in high school, I read a lot of disposable books, the titles of which I don't remember. Then I discovered Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment remains one of my all-time favorites, with The Idiot there as well. I was not as impressed with The Brothers Karamazov and I never finished The Possessed despite two tries. I moved on to Tolstoy, but only read his two big novels: Anna Karenina and War and Peace. At the time I was reading the latter tome, I wondered how many sixteen year olds voluntarily tackled War and Peace. My review at the time: an excellent first half then it dragged during the last 600 pages - lots of detailed battle descriptions when I was more interested in what happened to the characters.
By my senior year in high school, I had switched to Dickens, but I had a love/hate relationship with him. I found some of his books - Great Expectations, David Copperfield - to be exceptional. Others, especially Bleak House, bored me to distraction. After finishing A Tale of Two Cities, I moved to other random classics, including Dracula (which I had read many years earlier) and Frankenstein (which I had not).
Fantasy became a source of comfort during my early months in college. This is when I read David Eddings' five-volume The Belgariad, which remains my favorite "light" fantasy. As I have previously written, the plot is unremarkable but the characters are developed with flair and precision. I came to care for them enough that it didn't matter how familiar their circumstances were. Eddings wrote an ill-advised sequel series to The Belgariad called The Mallorean. Published during the late 1980s and early 1990s, it became a tedious exercise in waiting a few years until the next mediocre volume was released. Maybe it works better when read all at once, but my impression of The Mallorean over about the eight years it took me to read it remains negative.
The smartest fantasy writer I discovered while at college was Katherine Kurtz, whose Deryni books spin together history and magic. Including her latest (published last month), which I am currently reading, she has written fifteen books in the series, which is mostly divided into trilogies. A lot of her books are dark and almost all of them emphasize political and religious intrigue over traditional fantasy elements. Two of the more obvious inspirations for my The Price of the Crown were Kurtz and I, Claudius/Claudius the God (Robert Graves).
Having grown tired of fantasy, I began reading mysteries. I started with Dorothy Sayers (having long ago been unimpressed by Agatha Christie, who I tried out after reading all the Hardy Boys capers). It took less than four months to read all the Lord Peter Wimsey editions (old, worn paperbacks printed in the 1960s supplied by my grandmother). Sayers led me down a two-pronged road. One branch led to Wilkie Collins: The Moonstone, The Woman in White (my favorite of Collins' books), No Name, Blind Love, Armadale, and others. The other branch led to P.D. James, who I have come to regard as my favorite living author. No one writes a mystery like James, and no one has done more to legitimatize the genre than her. Born in 1920, she is approaching her 87th birthday and still publishes a new novel about every third year. I treat each new book like a treasure, recognizing that it could be her last. Incidentally, for those who appreciate the movie Children of Men, I recommend James' book, written in the early 1990s. It gives a vastly different view of a story that is similar only in its underlying premise and use of the same names.
Other books on my shelf, picked up and kept along the way: Melanie Rawn's six-book Dragon Prince/Dragon Star series, George R.R. Martin's as-yet unfinished A Song of Ice and Fire series (coming soon to HBO), Len Deighton's massive spy saga featuring Bernard Samson(Game/Set/Match/Hook/Line/Sinker/Hope/Faith/Charity), and a smattering of Sue Grafton's alphabet mysteries. There are also J.B. Priestley's Lost Empires, Lloyd Alexander's The Prydain Chronicles, C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia, and Robert Jordan's neverending The Wheel of Time (only the first two books are worth reading). My wife has stolen a shelf for Neal Gaiman graphic novels and the Harry Potter series.
Those are just a smattering of the hundreds of books I have read over the past thirty years, but they're the ones that have stayed with me as I have moved from house to dorm to apartment to townhouse to another house. Hopefully, for those who expressed interest, this has provided a more full exploration of my forays into literature. With the exception of The Mallorean and The Wheel of Time, I recommend everything I have mentioned, although individual tastes will shape how much you enjoy those books. (My wife, for example, loves P.D. James but was bored by The Belgariad. She would sample Len Deighton only on pain of death.) As I finish each book read as a result of a reader recommendation, I'll post my thoughts in this space.
Raining on the Sundance Parade
Negativity Alert!!!
I recently read an article that touted the Sundance Film Festival (underway as I write this) as one of the world's three most important film festivals. This categorization flabbergasts me. Since when did the bigger-than-it-should-be January unspooling of unreleased films in Park City turn deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Cannes and Toronto? Without giving it more than a moment's serious thought, I can name five festivals more deserving of that honor than Sundance (Venice, Berlin, Miami, Seattle, Karlovy Vary). In point of fact, Sundance is far more hype than substance. If it ever was different, it hasn't been thus for over a decade. This isn't just the opinion of someone looking on from a distance. Read my Sundance commentaries from 1998-2001 and you'll discover that I wasn't all that happy while in attendance.
Great festivals can be defined in one of two ways: a place in which memorable movies await discovery behind every closed door to every darkened auditorium or a place in which great acquisitions can be made. Let me consider Sundance under the microscope of those criteria. (It doesn't take much thought to discern that Cannes and Toronto fit both.)
When it comes to uncovering great movies, Sundance is a hit-and-miss affair, with far too many misses. Some years are better than others. I have been to Sundances past in which great movies were few and far between, and many of the festival's best bets previously played in Toronto. Sundance focuses primarily on two areas: bland commercial fare to headline evening Eccles screenings and obscure indie movies hoping for a breakout. If there are discoveries, they're likely to be found in the latter category, but you might as easily end up catching a chill enduring something unwatchable as viewing the next great Miramax art house hit. Other Sundance categories, such as World Cinema, are populated primarily by films that have generated buzz at other festivals. Over the years, there have been a number of Sundance standouts, including The War Zone, The Blair Witch Project, Donnie Darko and In the Bedroom. (Sex, Lies and Videotape put Sundance on the map, but that's going back a long time.) Oddly, what is often considered one of Sundance's greatest successes, Memento, was actually a Toronto holdover. You can find good stuff at Sundance, but it can be harder than going on a treasure hunt. (Getting last minute tickets is an experience usually defined by long waits in line and occasional sleep deprivation.)
Over the years, Sundance has become known as a movie meat market, but the days of wine and roses are over. Rights are still being bought and sold at the festival, but the dollar amounts are down, as are the performance expectations. Consider how many of the "hot" Sundance properties of years gone by have become hits (even by art-house standards). The second year I attended Sundance (1999), the hot property was a little comedy called Happy, Texas. A bidding war erupted. It became the "must see" movie of the festival. Miramax trampled the competition paying what was described as an "obscene" amount for the film. What became of it? Despite having shelled out all that money, Miramax buried it: a limited release followed by a trip to video store back shelves. More often than not, this is the fate of Sundance hits. They don't play well outside of the film festival's closed system. Last year's closing night movie, Alpha Dog, just made it to theaters. It bombed and will soon be available through Netflix.
The weather is another factor in exacerbating grumpiness. Most big-time festivals are smart enough to unveil their schedules during times of hospitable climate. (Toronto was rainy and chilly last year, but that's not usually the case.) Admittedly, there are some people who like struggling through snow banks, navigating icy sidewalks, and ending up knee-deep in slush. When you put your boot into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's footprint, you'll know what to do... It has been said that the snow storms, ice storms, and occasional bursts of cold drizzle add "color" to the festival. The only "color" I see is white. Every year I attended Sundance (except for one unusually warm one), I was convinced I was going to come down with pneumonia.
Taken for what it is - a nice little festival that highlights American independent films - Sundance does the best job it can under less-than-ideal circumstances. (The time of year and the limitations of the venues are both obstacles.) Making it out to be more than it is leads to heightened expectations that Sundance cannot fulfill. It is a second-rate festival not a world class one. Its place is nestled between the Big Boys and the Locals. Unless you live in Salt Lake City or the surrounding environs, there's no compelling reason to attend this festival (unless you're a rich ski buff who can combine passions). The festival's marketing arm has turned a pleasant cinematic excursion into a major fraud.
11 Years
As of today, ReelViews is officially eleven years old - not quite a teenager but getting close to puberty. Then again, maybe 'Net years are like dog years. That would make ReelViews 77.
Much has changed since the tenth anniversary celebration, when this was still "The Largest Non-Commercial Movie Site on the 'Net." Now, it has commercials and is producing revenue. Hopefully, the steps I have taken in the last year will ensure that ReelViews will be viable into the future and will remain free - albeit with the presence of the ads to pay for its continued existence. There is a side bonus to this for readers. Since new content begets additional revenue, that means there will be an increase in the number of reviews posted in 2007 over those in 2006. Putting a number to the increase is difficult, but I would say it will be about +10%.
Looking back through the years, I must admit that ReelViews has changed my life in several concrete ways. One can't see and write about 200 movies a year without being changed. I devote about 1200 hours a year to movies and this site, and that time could be spent doing other things. However, the biggest benefit conferred upon me by the site is that it brought me together with my wife. So, in the spirit of reflection, that's the story I want to tell - at least in part - today.
On Saturday, March 3, 2001, I opened an e-mail that began as follows: "Hi. I believe it’s not unusual for you to receive emails from complete strangers so that spares me from a lengthy introduction/explanation. Just a couple of questions..." Six paragraphs later, it concluded with: "Phew, sorry my mail is getting lengthy. I just love your work and the whole thing is very intriguing! Don’t ever stop writing." Her name was Sheryl.
Was there something about that e-mail that grabbed my attention? Aside from its length, probably not. I try to respond to as many e-mails as time allows, so I wrote back, answering each of her questions as best I could. She replied, and this began a comfortable e-mail correspondence. It didn't take long before we were writing about things other than movies. Daily e-mails became twice a day then three times. I would log on in the morning and reply to an e-mail, then check when I got home and before I went to bed. If I was an IM person, I'm sure I would have spent long nights chatting with her. (I have never been a big fan of any IM service since I find this method of communication to be intrusive – I'm too focused to be a good multi-tasker.)
We mixed in phone calls to go along with the e-mails. The initial "plan" was to speak once a week, but after spending about four hours on the phone with her late into one Thursday night/Friday morning, we decided to talk nightly and reduce the call length to 30 minutes. The long distance bills were a strain on her budget, so I mostly did the calling. It became a fait accompli that we would eventually meet but the distance - she lived in Chicago and I in New Jersey - was an obstacle. Not insurmountable, to be sure, but one nevertheless.
From the beginning, she knew what I looked like, having found the less-than-flattering photo of me in the FAQ section of the website. I didn't press her for a picture although I was curious. She finally sent one in July, four months after we had begun e-mailing each other and a month after we had started talking on the phone. I bought a digital camera and began snapping various pictures and she used her webcam for similar purposes. Soon, our e-mails were bloated with attachments.
The more we wrote and spoke, the more I felt I had found a kindred spirit. I always marvel at the set of circumstances that brought us together. Sheryl was born and raised in Manila before she moved to Chicago on her own at the age of 20. Ten years earlier, pre-Internet, there was no hope we would have ever met. But technology evolved at the perfect pace to allow us to contact each other. (Or, to be precise, to allow her to contact me.) Had she never written that e-mail, things would have been much different.
September 6, 2001, The Toronto Film Festival. Our "first date," so to speak. It lasted four days. Those who scour the archives for my 2001 festival updates will note that I didn't write anything on September 8 or 9 (and the September 6 entry was pre-written before I arrived in Toronto). That's the reason. After Sheryl's departure from Toronto on September 9, I got back in the flow of things on the 10th, then everything came apart on September 11. Good memories and bad ones, forever entwined for that festival.
Long distance relationships are hard, and not for everyone. They require far more work than local love affairs. The simple pleasure of being in the other person's presence is absent, as is the element of touch - a kiss on the lips or a clasp of the hands. You can talk on the phone and gaze at grainy webcam images of one another, but it's not the same. For nearly two years, we lived in separate places, meeting every third weekend, with either me flying to Chicago or her flying to Philadelphia. We usually had two or three days together before the inevitable parting. I developed a love/hate relationship with airports - we came together there and parted there. Happiness one day, sadness a few days later. Holidays gave us a few extra days together but the additional time made the parting more bitter. I proposed to her a few days before Christmas in 2002, fifteen months after our Toronto date. She gave up her Chicago life to move to New Jersey in June 2003. We were married a year later, in August 2004.
I am thankful to ReelViews for many things, but nothing has meant more to me - or continues to mean more to me - than the gift of the woman who sent an anonymous e-mail on that chilly March morning in 2001 and now shares my life and home.
The Shortest Month
First, a few notes. I will be writing something next week about the Oscars, although I'm formulating how to do it in a way that's different from the other million columns written about the nominations. I dislike being boring and repetitive (although that hasn't stopped me in the past). Also, thanks to everyone who responded to yesterday's "11 Years" entry. Sheryl and I were moved by some of the e-mails. I shared the more heartfelt ones with her since it's as much her story as it is mine.
A word about ReelViews' ads: If you see something that offends you, let me know. (Emphasis on "offends" as opposed to "irritates" or "annoys.") For the most part, BurstMedia does a good job of filtering out inappropriate banners, but some get through. I have the ability to block certain ads and I have used it twice: once to eliminate one of those "you just won" claims (misleading at best) and once to remove a Japanese ad that was more racy than I'm comfortable with. I'll look at questionable ads on a case-by-case basis, but if you "report" them, I need as much information as possible. The most important things for me to know: on what page it appeared on and where it appeared on the page.
It was a sad, sad January. I reviewed only ten new movies, half of which weren't screened for critics. If I was going to recommend a "Best of the Month," the award would go to Freedom Writers, one of only two January movies to which I gave positive reviews. (The other is Alpha Dog.) This has been the worst movie-going month since... last January. February typically doesn't offer much relief, but there's nowhere to go but up. The month contains an end of the year Top 10 contender and a film I'm genuinely excited to see.
Valentine's Day appears to be the turning point. Before that, there are five releases, two of which have no press screening scheduled. Norbit, perhaps surprisingly, is being screened, although one assumes this is not going to help Eddie Murphy's Oscar hopes. Also being shown are the chick flick Because I Said So (about which I am cautiously optimistic) and the German Oscar nominee The Lives of Others, which is very good. The two films I'll have to see in multiplexes both have awful trailers: The Messengers and Hannibal Rising. At this point, I'm tired of the Hannibal franchise, and what's the point if there's no Anthony Hopkins?
Valentine's Day brings Music and Lyrics. The pairing of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore for a romantic comedy seems odd, but maybe there's a spark there that I don't sense. I'm hearing great things about A Bridge to Terabithia. I haven't read the book but my wife has and she liked it a lot. Ghost Rider is the month's comic book adaptation, and it's not being screened for critics. There are also Breach and Starter for Ten. I saw the latter at Toronto last year and found it to be cute but not great.
By the end of February, everyone is looking toward spring and the movies start improving. February 23 sees the release of Black Snake Moan, which I have been anticipating for months. The trailer looks offbeat enough to be fun for someone as warped as I am, and never has Christina Ricci looked hotter. Michael Apted steps away from his Up Series subjects to provide Amazing Grace, which got respectful but not glowing reviews when it screened as the closing film of last year's Toronto Film Festival. Jim Carrey teams with Joel Schumacher in The Number 23, although this isn't the first time the two have worked together. Billy Bob Thornton goes into orbit as The Astronaut Farmer. And Comedy Central's Reno 911! treads into R-rated territory. My sincere hope is that this movie is funnier than most of the recent "comedies" I have been forced to endure. I like to laugh but if I have to sit through another Epic Movie, I may consider embargoing anything that claims to be funny. There are more laughs in Schindler's List.
As for March... Well, that's farther ahead than I'd like to look but there's one storm cloud darkening the horizon, one horrific experience I will not subject myself to. Why, oh why, are they bringing back The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?
The Case Against...
I find myself trapped between the belief that all film critics should write something about Oscar nominations and the assertion that all articles about Oscar nominations are inherently dull. I have read probably a dozen Oscar related columns during the past week and each of them has said the same thing. What a surprise that Dreamgirls and Jack Nicholson weren't nominated! How nice that Little Miss Sunshine was recognized! How could Penelope Cruz be nominated even though Volver didn't make the Foreign Film cut? And so on... So I'm going to try to do something at least a little different by playing Devil's Advocate. I therefore present the cases against the frontrunners.
The Case Against Forest Whitaker: It has been universally accepted that Whitaker will take home the statue. After all, he has won just about every major award out there. I'm not going to write bad things about the actor - his performance as Amin is chilling. However, this is a supporting performance, not a lead one, so he has been nominated in the wrong category. Then there's the O'Toole factor. The man is a legend but this is his eighth nomination and he hasn't won. That's right - Lawrence of Arabia has never taken home an acting Oscar. (He was awarded one of those honorary figurines a few years ago.) Given O'Toole's poor health, this is likely to be his last chance. ("Once more into the breach...") If O'Toole was a well-liked, fun guy, there would be no question he'd win over Whitaker, but people who know him say he can be cantankerous and pompous and he's far from a Hollywood insider. The quality of his performance in Venus (which is very good) is irrelevant - it's the excuse to get him on the ballot. Now the question becomes how many people want to go with "popular" choice Whitaker and how many want to honor O'Toole and his legacy. Most people will probably still vote for the guy who's closer to home.
The Case Against Helen Mirren: There isn't one. She will win in a cakewalk. Frankly, none of the other nominees are in the same league for their 2006 work. (Career-wise, Meryl Streep and Judi Dench arguably trump her.) Had Maggie Gyllenhaal made the cut, I could have argued her case, but she's not one of the nominees. Penelope Cruz, in a good but not especially memorable performance, took what might have been her spot. I love Kate Winslet, but there's no way she's going to topple The Queen.
The Case Against Eddie Murphy: Murphy's Dreamgirls performance ranks among the best acting he has done in his career, but is that alone a reason for him to win an Oscar? And didn't anyone else feel it steered a little too close to his James Brown Saturday Night Live parodies? Murphy is the front-runner because he's well liked but, performance-wise, he's no better than third on the list. Djimon Honsou was riveting in Blood Diamond - a force of nature that makes Murphy's performance look like a summertime drizzle. And Jackie Earle Haley disappeared into his character - something Murphy never came close to doing. Watching Honsou and Haley, one was seeing their characters. Watching Murphy, one was seeing Murphy play a character. But he'll win anyway. Neither Honsou nor Haley will generate significant support because the Oscars are a popularity contest and no one is more popular than Murphy.
The Case Against Jennifer Hudson: The first time I saw Dreamgirls, Hudson floored me. The second time I saw it, her singing wowed me, but not her acting. As an actress, she's okay - not great but certainly competent. As a singer, she's stunning. The question becomes whether an actress should win an award for a performance that's half great/half okay. Perhaps a little more consistency should be required. Hudson is a popular choice because of her rags-to-riches story. On the other hand, if Babel gathers enough steam and becomes this year's Little Indie That Could, Rinko Kikuchi should get some support. Her performance is more daring, more consistent, and more emotionally wrenching than Hudson's. The major impediments to her winning: she's subtitled and the Babel vote could be split between her and Adriana Barraza. There's also the possibility that the Academy will be won over by the smile and charm of Abagail Breslin. Probably not, though. Figure Hudson to be the only American Idol contestant who will win an Oscar.
The Case Against Martin Scorsese: Common wisdom dictates that Scorsese will eventually be honored by the Academy, even if it's via the Peter O'Toole route. He's the Michelle Kwan of the cinema – perennially honored but victimized by bad luck and worse timing at the Big Show. He should win this year. Sentiment is on his side. No one wants to see another forced smile on his face hiding dashed dreams. But still... Hollywood likes movies that are about something, and The Departed isn't a morality tale. It's a brilliantly realized gangster melodrama, but there's no moral. Babel, on the other hand, makes a point and if there's a pro-Babel surge in the next couple of weeks, it's not unreasonable to suppose that Alejandro González Iñárritu could eke out a surprise win. My money's on Scorsese, though.
The Case Against Babel: In the Best Picture category, it's not hard to present a case against any of the titles because there's no front-runner. This contest is neck and neck between Babel and The Departed with Little Miss Sunshine lurking in the shadows as a dark horse. Babel, although in the lead at the moment, is vulnerable for the same reason The Departed is: the lack of a groundswell of support. This has led some prognosticators to look to Little Miss Sunshine. My view is that the film is out of its league. Ditto for Letters from Iwo Jima and The Queen. Pundits don't give those films much of a chance and I agree. Babel meets the "serious, issue related" Oscar criterion but it is hamstrung because of all the subtitles. Everyone knows Oscar voters can't read. The Departed could pull it out with a late innings push, but this one is still too close to call. Ask me again on February 26.
©2007 James Berardinelli
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