And The Loser Is... #16- Doing it for the girls

The 1960s is considered by many to be a high watermark for British filmmaking, and it is an era known for its focus on the plight of the working classes, and, in particular, the 'angry young man', as seen in films such as Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, and This Sporting Life. The actors who made their mark playing this kind of role reads like a who's who of British acting- Richard Harris, Tom Courtenay, Albert Finney, Richard Burton, et al. But, this was, of course, also the Swingin' 60s, an era of women's lib, and sexual freedom, and today I'm looking at a 60s film that is doing it for the girls!

Georgy Girl (Dir: Silvio Narizzano, 1966)

Part rom-com, part raunchy comedy, part exploration of gender politics, Georgy Girl is the story of Georgy, a slightly heavy, but vivacious young woman, '22 and never been kissed', who finds herself the object of attention from two completely different men. Lynn Redgrave, she of the famous Redgrave acting dynasty, was Oscar-nominated for her lead performance here, and James Mason picked up a best supporting actor nomination for his role as James, the well-to-do boss of Georgy's father, who wants to make the young girl his mistress. Georgy's other potential lover is the boyfriend of her best friend, Jos, played by Alan Bates.

I had a sinking feeling about this film from the get-go, with the introductory song (also Oscar-nominated) suggesting that Georgy could be happy if only she made a bit more effort with her appearance. As the song (jaunty, though it is) plays, we see our hero nervously entering a boutique, getting her hair styled, and then recoiling in horror as she sees the (admittedly ridiculous) results. This is really a misleading introduction to film and character though, as Georgy is presented as such a charming, spirited girl, that I can't see her as anything but gender-affirming.

Redgrave is really tremendous in her role. She has a naturally pretty face, but is just forceful enough in manner that you can almost believe her as a virgin, if not quite the object of ridicule which she is sometimes made out to be (by her own father, amongst others). What puts it over the top is the casting of Charlotte Rampling as Meredith, Georgy's best friend/flatmate. Just about anybody would look plain standing next to the stunning Rampling. Beyond physical appearances (bear in mind also that Redgrave was known at the time for being the chubby younger sister of Vanessa Redgrave, who incidentally turned down the role of Georgy), Redgrave wonderfully captures Georgy's flair for the dramatic, playfulness, and quick-wit, all the while conveying the idea that these are just tools used by the character to cover up a sense of inferiority, and self-consciousness. It's great watching her share repartee with Mason or Bates, while understanding that just below the surface there is this very insecure young girl. In one stand-out moment, Georgy performs a rambunctious song and dance number ("I need a whole lot of loving, because there's a lot of me to love", or something to that effect) at one of James' high society parties. She's embarrassing herself, but completely embraces her role, as if to show everybody that they can't hurt her, and that she's in on the joke.

Mason is typically debonair as James, who, presumably has watched Georgy grow up, and, with an ill wife confined to her bed, suddenly finds her irresistible. Redgrave and Mason have some great exchanges, particularly when he presents to her a contract which outlines the terms of her becoming his mistress. Mason lost out at the awards to Walter Matthau for The Fortune Cookie. I rate his performance above that one, but not above that of Robert Shaw in A Man For All Seasons. Redgrave, in a category that also included a nomination for her sister, lost out to Elizabeth Taylor (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). Taylor's performance was good, but a little showy. Redgrave completely charmed me, and I would have given her the award.

Let's not forget Alan Bates. He gives a breathlessly energetic performance (it seems that comedian, Lee Evans, got a lot of his performance manner from Bates) as Jos, clownish, but handsome, and besotted with Meredith when he is clearly better suited to Georgy. The two laugh and joke around together, while Meredith, the cold and detached 'it girl' stands them both up at various times in the film, and conventional rom-com wisdom suggests they will end up together. A spanner is thrown in the works though when Meredith becomes pregnant, and she and Jos get married. For a time, the three of them live together in something resembling harmony, with Georgy acting essentially as the cook/maid. Meredith becomes increasingly difficult to live with as the pregnancy progresses though, and eventually things come to a head when she blows up at Georgy, calling her fat and ugly. It is only then that Jos realises that he is in love with Georgy.

Georgy and Jos; made for each other?

You could argue that the biggest flaw with the film is the way in which this situation is resolved. Meredith, by this point, has fully completed her transformation from self-centred egotist, to full-on bitch (she completely rejects her baby, refusing to touch it, and announcing that she wants it adopted)- a change that makes it easy (and rather too convenient) to accept the fact that she has been jilted by husband and best friend (we are even shown Meredith, upon leaving the hospital after giving birth, driving off with another man).

The film takes another interesting twist here though, as the new family of Jos, Georgy and baby proves less than perfect, due to Jos's immaturity and lack of interest in being a father. It is at this point that we slowly begin to realise that the only person throughout the whole film who has been nothing but accepting and supportive towards Georgy is James, so easy to write-off as a lecherous old man. Indeed, throughout the film, we see a contrast between Jos's careless attitude towards Georgy (jokingly referring to her as 'fishface', for example), and incidents such as James encouraging his party guests to applaud Georgy after her afore-mentioned performance.

Thinking about it now, the most interesting thing about this film is the way that it plays with your own expectations for the Georgy character. It's very successful in making you see certain characters in a certain way, and getting you to make snap judgments, based on what you know about films and society, about what Georgy needs, what she deserves, and what she will end up with. I think this is a film which is much smarter than it appears to me. Narizzano, a Canadian working in England, keeps the film at a nice pace, and the script is full of humour. It's the actors which really won me over with this one though, particularly Redgrave, who I had only previously seen in her later years. 4 stars.

I should have another new review in ATLI... #17, so until then, here's looking at you.

And The Loser Is... #15- How to win a battle against terrorism and lose the war of ideas

In ATLI... #14, I talked about Costa-Gavras' excellent 1969 political thriller, Z. This time out, I want to talk about another politically charged European film from the 60s, The Battle of Algiers (Dir: Gillo Pontecorvo, 1966). While it is easy to look at Z and The Battle of Algiers as companion pieces, and certainly both are made from the same left-wing political standpoint, there is a key difference. The former film is, in essence, a genre film; a taut political thriller, which, in many respects, one could see being made in America, certainly during the 1970s (think All The President's Men). Indeed, Z is a film that should be easily accessible to all audiences, as it really doesn't feature many of the traits people associate with foreign language cinema.

TBOA takes further the documentary style of Z, favouring an approach which puts more emphasis on realism, a simple presentation of events, which allows the spectator to digest the facts on their own terms. To simplify, you could say that Z uses rhetoric, presenting things in a way intended to incite a certain response (and does so successfully, I might add), whereas TBOA is simply a recreation of events, which invites one to draw their own conclusions.

The film is a documentation of Algeria's fight for independence from France, focusing largely on Ali La Pointe, a member of the Algerian resistance who rises through the ranks, and is committed to his cause, no matter the cost in human life. Pitted against him is the French officer, Colonel Mathieu, a man who uses the fact that he, and others like him, were once part of a resistance themselves (the French Resistance during World War 2), to justify the torturing of prisoners, and the bombing of innocent civilians.

Despite the even-handedness with which the film presents its story (it never shies away from showing the acts of low-level terrorism perpetrated by the Algerian resistance, including using bombs that they know will kill fellow Algerians), there is no question that this is a film sympathetic to the Algerian cause (it was, afterall, commissioned by the Algerian government, and an Algerian/Italian co-production). La Pointe is an extremist, a man who believes that independence can only be taken by violence, but the Algerians are a people with their backs against the wall, at the mercy of the French army's superior means and technology. La Pointe's is a just cause, and even then his methods are contrasted with those of the more experienced Ben M'Hidi, who tells La Pointe "Acts of violence don't win wars. Neither wars nor revolutions. Terrorism is useful as a start. But then, the people themselves must act."

There are some interesting stories surrounding this film, but first I want to briefly touch on the history of world cinema and the Oscars. Going into this project, I assumed that instances of foreign language cinema being nominated in the main Osar categories were few and far between. What was interesting to find out while going through the past ceremonies, was that at one point (starting in the 1960s, coinciding with a greater critical appreciation for world cinema) the Academy seemed to have something of a love affair with the more established directors of world cinema. Whether that was the a case of the Academy paying lip service to some of the perceived greats, specifically through nomination in the best director category, is impossible to tell, but there is a tradition there of the Academy reaching out to filmmakers from across the globe.

Pontecorvo directs Brahim Haggiag (La Pointe)

This film appears as part of this project, thanks to Pontecorvo's nomination for best director in 1969. Federico Fellini was actually nominated for best director 4 times, Hiroshi Teshigahara was nominated for Woman In The Dunes (1964), which strikes me as a sublime case of the Academy rewarding the deserving, and, later, the likes of Ingmar Bergman and Akira Kurosawa picked up nominations. It seemed that if a foreign language film was going to get recognised in any category (barring, y'know, best foreign language film), then best director would be the one. Even more recently we've seen the likes of Fernando Meirelles get recognised, although it would be great to see someone like Wong Kar-Wai or Michael Haneke get some recognition, to name just two of the more widely-known and appreciated directors fo world cinema.

Anyway, bringing this back to The Battle of Algiers, and this is actually a film which has made a bit of history. It is the only film in Oscar history to have nominations at two non-consecutive ceremonies (it had previously been nominated for best foreign language film in '66, before Pontecorvo's nomination in '69). Another point of interest surrounding this film, is that apparently the Pentagon screened this film for officers and civilian experts, as a way to encourage discourse about the challenges faced by the US army in Iraq. The title of this blog entry is taken from the flier which invited guests to the screening.

I'm not sure what was learned from such a screening, but I do know that this is a powerful piece of filmmaking, one of those rare films that manages to touch you in the heart, in the head, and in the gut. It stirred up a lot of emotions in me, as a film which says a lot about the right to freedom, and the sacrifices some people will take to achieve that freedom. It's hard to watch a film like this and not draw comparisons to the situation in the Palestine, but not only that, it's hard not to watch this film and not reflect on one's own life, the freedoms we take for granted, the general complacency of Western civilisation, and how different things could be. This may not be as attractive a proposition as something like Z, but it is a film of equal importance, which I would urge anybody to watch. It's a masterpiece, probably one of the handful of best films ever nominated for an Oscar, and a 5 star film.

I should have a new review for next time, but, until then, here's looking at you!

And The Loser Is... #14- Bulldog Drummond and Z

I have two films to review today, and they couldn't be more different, both in style, and, in my opinion, success.

I'll start by taking you back to 1929's Bulldog Drummond, directed by F. Richard Jones, and based on a play by Herman C. McNeile. A silent version of the film had already been made in the early 1920s, and, indeed, the character of Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond would go on to feature in a long series of films. There were two Academy Awards ceremonies in 1930, and this film's star, Ronald Colman, earned a best actor nomination at the second, for his performance here.

Colman is the titular character, a British war veteran who is bored by the serenity of his upper-class lifestyle, and longs for some excitement. To that end, he places an ad in The Times newspaper, making himself available for anything that may lead to adventure. The ad is answered with a mysterious invitation to meet a young lady, Phyllis (Joan Bennett) at an inn at midnight, and when he gets there the girl implores him to help her rescue her uncle from a phony hospital run by a gang of extortionists.

Tagging along on the adventure is Drummond's butler, Danny (Wilson Benge), and his friend, Algy (Claud Allister). The latter is one of the main problems with the film, as Algy is such an annoying character that he sucks the fun out of the film whenever he's on screen. With his gratingly shrill voice, and foppish manner, Algy, one assumes, is positioned as the film's main source of humour. But, just like the wisecracking sidekicks that pollute most modern animated films, the character is overbearing and irritating.

Colman and Tashman: rare highlights.

There isn't much to get excited about, character-wise, elsewhere either. Drummond himself is reasonably suave and dashing, in the James Mason mould, and he gets most of the film's best lines. Colman has good fun with the role, giving easily the best performance, and does have a charm which adds some creedance to the 'Drummonditis' (as Algy terms the attraction that Drummond holds) that befalls Phyllis. Bennett doesn't get to do much as the damsel in distress, and is overshadowed by Lilyan Tashman as Irma, the alluring siren charged with kidnapping Phyllis's uncle.

As far as evil plans go, the one that Irma has hatched along with her beau, Peterson, and the sinister Dr Lakington, is poor at best. They apparently founded a hospital (and hired a staff of goons, mind you), solely with the intention of kidnapping the rich Mr Travers, drugging him, and getting him to sign over his fortune to them. It's a plan they've gone to little effort to hide from Phyllis, and one wonders if it is really worth the trouble. Nevertheless, Tashman, a mere 20-years-old at the time, is good value as the beautiful vamp calling the shots.

The idea of an upper-crust war vet foiling evil plots and getting the girl is one I can get behind, but the problem here is that there just isn't anything clever, either about the plot, or the way Drummond saves the day. He just kind of strolls in to these situations, exchanges a bit of banter with the villains and strolls back out. At one point he and Algy switch clothes to try to throw the villains off, but the idea is never carried out to a satisfying end. The script, also, is subpar- none of the humour has aged well, and beyond that the characters often act completely unbelievably. That is none more the case than when Phyllis tells Drummond that she wants to let the villains escape, solely because she really believes that Irma loves Peterson, and, 'women do that. They fall in love'. This woman also kidnapped your uncle, and you, drugged him, and then tried to kill the both of you!

The director does do some interesting things with shadow throughout the film. For example, Drummond's fight with Dr Lakington towards the end of the film plays out entirely in shadow, so we are spared the horrors that the onlooking Phyllis witnesses. Beyond these flashes, this very much looks like a film of its time period, rickety and rough around the edges.

It's easy to romanticise early cinema, but I dare say there were a couple of hundred films better than this made last year. 2 stars.

I didnt' even realise the second film I'm going to talk about was eligible for this project. I watched it as part of my 'best of the 60s' project, and only later found out that it was Academy Award-nominated for best picture and best director (as well as other awards). What makes that unusual is that that was a rare instance of a foreign language film being nominated in the Best Picture category. I'm talking about Z (1969, Dir: Costa-Gavras).

And what an international flavour this film has, with its Greek director (real name Konstantinos Gavras), Algerian location shooting, and mainly French cast. This political thriller was based on the real-life assasination of a Greek doctor, a member of a left-wing political party, and consequent takeover of the country by the right-wing military. The film gets its title from the use of the letter Z in protest graffiti against the military-rule; Z means 'He is alive' in ancient Greek.

Costa-Gavras' film takes place in an unnamed republic, and begins with a right-wing general comparing socialism, and left-wing activism, with mildew, and calling it a disease that needs to be treated. From there we begin to see the gathering of the left-wing party members, who are awaiting the arrival of Z, their leader, played by Yves Montand, in anticipation for an anti-war speech that he is scheduled to make in the city. The director sets his stall out early, his staccato editing and always-moving camerawork giving the film the feel of a documentary or television news report. In these early stages, we see the frustrations of the peaceful opposition party, as they are told that their meeting hall is no longer available, and several of their supporters are attacked by government-hired goons. All the while, the even temperament of Z is established, as, despite a threat on his life and these other signs of violence, he spells out his intentions to go ahead with his speech.

It is after delivering his speech that Z is murdered. He is struck on the head with a club by a man sitting on the bed of a passing truck, and collapses in the street surrounded by protesters, supporters, and the complicit police. This is a masterful sequence, and one that is returned to throughout the film as new details about what really happened are revealed, and separate accounts of events are told to the Examining Magistrate (a brilliant Jean-Louis Trintignant).

It is the Examining Magistrate who takes centre-stage from this point forward, an honest man who is looking to get to the truth of Z's death, all the while fighting against the lies of the military government. The film also focuses on Jacques Perrin's photojournalist, who sees a scoop in exposing the corruption at the heart of the tragedy. Other characters are pulled in; Z's widow, a crucial eyewitness who is attacked on his way to give testimony, and the two men who were paid to commit the murder. To its credit, the film never demonises, nor glorifies, any of these characters. They feel like real people, acting with real motivations, which is crucial as, in essense, these are real people. As the film's disclaimer says: Any resemblance to actual events, to persons living or dead, is not the result of chance. It is DELIBERATE.

The acting here is flat out great, from Montand, whose presence dominates despite only about 15 minutes of screen time, to Irene Papas as Z's widow, to Trintignant, and onwards. The film has a real sense of urgency that I would liken to Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon (1975), while the political content makes for an obvious comparison to All The President's Men (1976). Like that film, it takes very complex, serious political subject matter, and weaves it into a taut thriller, which builds up to almost unbearable levels of suspense. Z is an important film with an important message, one that is unfortunately still to be learned in so many corners of the world. I give it 5 stars.

In ATLI... #15, I'm going to take a look at another important piece of political filmmaking from across the globe. Until then, here's looking at you.

And The Loser Is... #13- An island unto himself

Back in ATLI... #4, I began to take a look at the Academy Awards successes of my all-time favourite filmmaker, Woody Allen. I'm going to continue that here, starting with what I consider to be the finest of all his movies, Manhattan (1979).

This was actually my introduction to Allen's work, and I can't really think of a better one. The opening sequence, featuring the film's protagonist, Isaac Davis (Allen), reciting the opening passage of his new book over a series of stills of New York City, in many ways encapsulates Woody's work in general, and tells you everything you need to know about how he operates as a filmmaker, and an on-screen persona. Consider the content of the narrative, establishing at once the sexual voraciousness of the Allen persona, his moral values, including his reverence of the common New Yorker, his brand of self-deprecating humour, and, perhaps most importantly, his adoration of New York City. The sequence also establishes Allen's artistic sensibilities, through his choice of the George Gershwin piece, 'Rhapsody in Blue', as well as through Gordon Willis' black and white photography.

The film itself is one of Allen's funniest, and most romantic, as well as one of his most optimistic, albeit cautious optimism. Isaac, a writer, has an ex-wife who is writing a tell-all book on their marriage, and a 17-year-old girlfriend, Tracy (played by Mariel Hemingway, who was nominated for the best supporting actress award in 1980). He is unsettled by the 25 year age difference between them, and, when he meets Mary (Diane Keaton), his best friend's mistress, he finds himself falling for her. I talked last time about the way Allen depicts intellectualism in his films, which is largely very critical, and we see this again here. Mary is very intellectually agressive, very forceful with her opinions ("I'm honest, whaddya want? I say what's on my mind and, if you can't take it, well then fuck off!"), which is in stark contrast to the very sweet, besotted Tracy. It is this that, upon their first meeting, turns Isaac off Mary, but eventually he sees her as a woman, not only closer to his own age, but also who can offer him more on an intellectual level. As is the case in so many Allen films, though, this intellectualism is ultimately shown as being self-destructive, and a sure path to unhappiness.

This film is really interesting in terms of how the Allen persona reacts in relationship to a more intellectually-dominant female. We see an Allen much more connected to his humble beginnings in Brooklyn, much more connected to the streets of New York. In one scene, a guest at a party talks about the Times running a 'devestating' satirical piece about an upcoming Nazi march, prompting Davis' response of "Well, a satirical piece in the Times is one thing, but bricks and baseball bats really gets right to the point". In other scene, Mary talks about her genius ex-husband, to which Isaac replies, "Oh really, he was a genius, Helen's a genius and Dennis is a genius. You know a lot of geniuses, y'know. You should meet some stupid people once in a while, y'know, you could learn something." These scenes show a disconnect between Allen and the true New York intellectual, but there are instances where he is betrayed by his own love of high art, which separate him from men of his class (such as referring to Mary's friends as being "like the cast of a Fellini movie"). The Allen persona, as stated by Alvy in Annie Hall, really is an island unto himself.

Mariel Hemingway in Manhattan.

In the end, Isaac sees that he was only truly happy when he was with Tracy, which leads to one of the most hopeful conclusions to an Allen film. It isn't exactly a fairytale ending, as Tracy is leaving to study in London, but her, and the film's, final words of "not everybody gets corrupted. You have to have a little faith in people" are a clear message that happiness is attainable when you free your mind of cynicism. Hemingway is a revelation as Tracy, and I think she deserved the Oscar over Meryl Streep (who also features in Manhattan, but won the award for her performance in Kramer Vs. Kramer).

Manhattan is sweet, funny, and has some beautiful cinematography, and is an easy 5 star film.

One of Allen's most successful films as the awards is the 7-times nominated, 3-times winner, Hannah and Her Sisters (1986). Woody was nominated for best direction, and the film also picked up a best picture nomination, but was pipped in both categories by Oliver Stone and Platoon. This is a superior film, and is also one of the best directed of all of Allen's films, as he deftly weaves together a multi-threaded story, part-comedic, part-dramatic, about three sisters and the extended family that surround them.

Supporting stars Diane Wiest and Michael Caine both picked up awards for their performances here. Caine plays the husband of Hannah (Mia Farrow), who is secretly in love with Hannah's younger-sister, Lee (Barbara Hershey). The dynamic between the sisters is very similar to that between the sisters in Interiors (1978), with Hannah as the ultra-successful to the point of being annoying sister, and Wiest as the sister who just can't seem to find a way to express herself. Allen takes more of a supporting role, as the ex-husband of Hannah, who believes that he is dying and wants to find some inner-peace to help him cope.

We are family...

This was an ambitious undertaking from Allen, more known for intimate works, and has a different tone to much of his earlier work (in large part due to the shifts in focus from character to character, as well as the blending of the comedic elements, which generally feature Woody himself, and the dramatic elements). Allen assembled one of his most impressive ensembles for the film (it must have been a thrill to work with Ingmar Bergman mainstay, Max von Sydow), and the camerawork from Carlo Di Palma is some of the most assured you'll see in an Allen film. This is truly intelligent filmmaking, and I give the film 5 stars.

Jumping forward now, to the last Woody Allen film to gain the attention of the Academy, 2008's Vicky Cristina Barcelona. This was part of Allen's late-career tributes to the great cities of Europe, which also includes Midnight in Paris (2011), and his various London-set films, including 2005's Match Point, which also featured Vicky Cristina Barcelona star, Scarlett Johansson. This is also the film which, at that point, I considered to be the best of Allen's so-called comeback years.

Vicky and Cristina (Rebecca Hall and Johansson, respectively) are two friends who take a trip to Spain and attract the attention of a sexually aggressive artist, Juan Antonio, played by Javier Bardem. Vicky is conservative in nature, and holds herself back from being romanced by the mysterious stranger, but the adventurous Cristina jumps into an exciting affair, which is soon complicated by the arrival on the scene of Juan Antonio's tempestuous ex-wife, Maria Elena. Penelope Cruz won the best supporting actress Oscar in 2009 for her portrayal as Maria Elena, and thoroughly deserved it was too. Slipping effortlessly between English and Spanish, Cruz is electric, playing Maria Elena with a wild, unabashed sexuality which brings to mind Beatrice Dalle's performance as the titular heroine in Betty Blue (1986).

Hall and Johansson are both weak in their roles, so it isn't until Bardem and Cruz hit the scene that this really gets rolling. But when it does, it's as sexually charged and exciting as anything Woody has ever done. It also looks great, the sun-drenched Spanish setting a far cry from the typical grey/green tones of Allen's New York-set films. It seems nowadays that Allen has found a new niche for himself, away from the comedies on which he made his name, and even the intellectually-based Bergman-inspired drama of his 1980s work. The best Allen films now are slightly unrestrained, where characters have a hard time keeping a hold of their emotions, and are all the better for it. It's like going abroad opened up a different side to Woody, and it's interesting to see him explore this side- certainly as long as the results are this good. 4 stars.

It was my oroginal intent to cover all of Allen's career in two parts, but it seems I will have to extend this into another blog, so look for part 3 at a later date. Until then, here's looking at you.

And The Loser Is... #12- Mildred Fierce

One of the great things I've found already, in the short time I've been working on this project, is that even a seemingly run-of-the-mill, or unimportant film, is likely to have an interesting story behind it. So many of the films that I'll be watching as part of this project have been all but forgotten by time, so this is a great opportunity to not only rediscover these films, but also to learn about the circumstances which brought them to the screen.

This became evident when last night I picked out a film to watch, pretty much at random, and discovered that it plays an important role in Oscar history, as well as changing the career of one of its stars. The film in question is Of Human Bondage, directed in 1934 by John Cromwell, and starring Leslie Howard and Bette Davis.

This film might not have even ended up as part of this project, which brings me to the story of its importance in Academy Award history. At the time, Bette Davis was contracted to Warner Brothers, with a career that was going nowhere. She saw this film as a way to catapult her to stardom, and, as it was an RKO production, she begged Warner head Jack Warner to let her out of her contract. Warner released her, confident that she would fail, but, when her performance started gaining Oscar buzz, he began a campaign urging Academy members not to vote for her.

He succeeded, as Davis was left off the list of nominees, but the story doesn't end there. Davis' supporters petitioned the Academy to add her as a write-in vote, she was, and eventually lost out Claudette Colbert for It Happened One Night. It was the film's only Oscar nomination.

Although Davis didn't win the award, as she had expected to, she clearly had the last laugh on Warner Brothers, going on to have a legendary career. Because of the controversy surrounding the situation, the Academy disallowed future write-in votes from being added to the list of nominations. They also changed the way they handled the voting process, leaving the official counting of votes to an outside accounting company, Pricewaterhouse, who still handle the job to this day.

Watching this film now, it's hard to see what all the fuss is about. Davis' performance is a good one, and one can see why she would covet the role, but I don't think it would have been an injustice for her to go un-nominated. The importance of the role is that it gave her an opportunity to play a strong, dominant female character, the kind of role that she would make her reputation on.

The star of the film is Leslie Howard, who plays Philip Carey, a sensitive man with a club foot, who we first join as he pursues a career as an artist in Paris. He is told that he doesn't have the talent to make a living as an artist, so he moves to London to study medicine. It is there that he meets Mildred (Davis), a cold and uncaring Cockney waitress, with whom he falls in love. His requests for dates are met by Mildred with an unfeeling "I don't mind", but she eventually rejects his marriage proposal and runs off with another man. Philip knows that Mildred treated him poorly, and tries to move on with his life, but eventually she returns, pregnant and penniless, and he finds himself falling for her again.

It was unusual for me to see this kind of wish-fulfillment narrative, but with the gender roles reversed. The more conventional plot would see the female character being mistreated, with the eventual pay-off being her finally finding the confidence in herself to realise that she deserves better (which would also coincide with her finally finding a good man to treat her with respect). I don't know how prevalent it was to tell this kind of story with the roles reversed, , but, in Howard, this film has the perfect lead, a man who can tweak his persona of aristocratic intellectualism, to create a character who is believably self-conscious, sensitive and cuckolded.

The film does a good job of establishing these traits in Philip; after the scene where he is rejected as an artist, we see him being made an object of ridicule by an overbearing doctor at the hospital where he works. Philip feels less of a man because of his disability, so, when it is brought to the attention of the rest of the medical students, it is a big blow ot his manhood. To accentuate the importance of this disability to Philip's psyche, Cromwell shoots a lot of transitional shots at ground level, contrasting Philip's awkward limp with the confident strides of those around him. Later, when Philip leaves the restaurant after first meeting Mildred, her expression changes from one of curiosity to one of disgust upon seeing his club

Bette Davis: The eyes have it.

Davis, of course, is a great expressive actress, her face dominated by those saucer-like eyes. She is also an actress of convincing power and dominance, making Mildred a good fit for her talents. She can barely hold in her boredom and disgut with Philip throughout the course of their courtship, and constantly rubs her superiority into his face, turning the tables on their very different social standing in a similar fashion to Marlene Dietrich with Emil Jannings in The Blue Angel (1930). Whenever Philip shows the slightest hint of resistance to her, she accuses him of showing a lack of class, or of being ungentlemanly. When she tells him that she is going to marry another man, she is insistent that he not 'go on about it', a sentiment she echoes when, after she has returned to Philip, she gets back up to her old tricks by blatantly flirting with one of Philip's friends in his presence. Philip, as is so often the case with somebody with low self-esteem, has turned his back on a woman who was treating him right, in order to have another chance with the one who never will.

After another parting, brought about by Mildred running off with the friend, Philip finally starts to realise that things need to change. He becomes friends with one of his patients (a delightful Reginald Owen, sharing wisdoms such as his idea that women shouldn't be allowed to sit down to eat with men because it ruins conversation and puts ideas in their heads!), and begins to fall for his kind, young daughter. However, Mildred returns once more, and it is then that the film swells to its emotional climax.

In the best scene of the film, Philip finally stands up to Mildred, only to have her let loose on him with a tirade about how she disgusts him, and how it made her sick to let him kiss her ("after ya kissed me, I always used to wipe my mouth. WIPE MY MOUTH!") She then proceeds to destroy his flat, burning the securities that have been sent to him to pay for his tuition, and, crucially, putting a knife through his paintings, the only link he has left to the dreams of his youth. Davis is excellent in this sequence, giving a sample of the ferociousness for which she would become so legendary.

Philip is left with nothing, but, as is the nature of these films, it is only when all hope is lost that true happiness can be found, and the wish-fulfillment narrative dictates that Philip be 'swept off his feet' by a love pure and true. It isn't a mark against the film that it is entirely predictable in this manner, as the whole genre relies on playing to, not against, expectations. The joy of these films is really in how one gets to the happy ending. There is some joy to be found here in the performances of the two leads, as well as in some creative direction (nice camera movements, the use of special effects, such as a model skeleton transforming into Mildred as Philip daydreams). The script, too, has some nice moments. But, finally, these are all just moments, and the film seems to be lacking that spark that turns a good movie into a great one. If this is remembered only as the film that gave Davis her big break, I don't think there would be any injustice in that. 3 stars.

Next time out, I'll be doing part two of my look at Woody Allen's Oscar career, which will include my favourite Allen film. Until then, here's looking at you.

And The Loser Is... #11- Coulda Been A Contender

The latest film I watched for this project is David O. Russell's 2011 best picture nominee, The Fighter, starring Christian Bale, Mark Wahlberg and Amy Adams.

I've always liked Russell as a director. His Spanking the Monkey (1994) was one of the first independent films I ever saw. I thought Three Kings (1999) was a very strong offering, and even liked the much-maligned I Heart Huckerbees (2004). I had high hopes for this film, which is based on the true story of boxer, Micky Ward, who was trained by his half-brother, former-boxer, Dicky Eklund.

In the town of Lowell, Massachusettes, Dicky (Bale) is something of a hero, after a career that saw him challenge world champion 'Sugar' Ray Leonard. When the film begins, Dicky is being filmed for a HBO documentary, which he believes is about his in-ring comeback, but is really about his crack addiction. Dicky's younger brother, Micky (Wahlberg), meanwhile, is in the midst of a slump in his career, not helped by the fact that his brother/trainer is so unreliable.

It is the relationship between Micky and Dicky that is the main focus of the film, with most of the drama coming from the conflict between Micky's loyalty to his family, and his career aspirations. As well as being trained by his half-brother, Micky is also managed by his overbearing mother, Alice, (Melissa Leo), and has a gaggle of sisters always in tow. Eventually, after another tough defeat, he realises that things need to change, and, encouraged by his new girlfriend, Charlene (Adams), he decides to cut ties with Dicky and Alice.

Bale won the best supporting actor Oscar for his portrayal of the charismatic, jittery, ego-centric, Dicky, a man who revels in the hero worship lauded on him by the townsfolk, and, in particular, his mother, and is always eager to tell people the story of how he knocked the great 'Sugar' Ray Leonard off his feet. Bale is a fine and committed actor, who has a great knack for really getting inside his characters, and, while here he displays a magnetism reminiscent of early De Niro, I ultimately felt that there was something wholly inauthentic about the performance. He certainly looks the part, losing a lot of weight to imitate the ragged physique of an addict, but he never really got to the truth of the character. There are moments, when the visual tics are toned down, where he comes close to finding some emotional resonance, but, on the whole, Wahlberg is much more effective in his role as the overlooked younger brother, torn between his idolisation of Dicky, and the knowledge that his brother is no good for his career.

My criticism of Bale's performance can be extended to the whole film. A lot of the time it feels showy, and yes, stylish, but lacking in authenticity or real emotional depth. The characterisation is often times a little too on the nose; humble working class hero, cocky coulda-been-a-contender former pro, mother who gives all her affection to one son at the expense of the other. Even Charlene, by far the best character in the film, seems at times to be painted with broad strokes (although Adams' performance is so good that you always get the sense that there is more depth there than was probably written).

Amy Adams: MTV girl.

As well as the characterisation, the film also has an annoying habit of falling into base cliche, and signposting its expected emotional reactions. For instance, the airing of Dicky's HBO documentary acts as a wake-up call for several of the characters, Dicky included, but seems like a lazy way to go about creating a shift in the way those characters see themselves. Another scene shows Dicky losing his temper and laying into a wall of dressing room lockers with his fists, only for his young son, who had been watching on, to follow suit. Dicky's actions, you see, have a knock-on effect to those around him. There are many moments like this where it seems the filmmakers take the easy way out, or almost talk down to the audience, which makes it hard for the film to achieve emotional resonance.

There are points where it seems the film almost revels in its simplicity. Russell has shown in the past that he is an intelligent filmmaker, so when you see a Rocky-like fight montage set to an 80's rock song which proclaims "I'm back!", you can't help but think the director has his tongue in his cheek with some of the material. And this is, to a point, a fun movie. Micky is a likeable guy and you want to see him succeed, there is an energy to the camera work which keeps things moving nicely along, and there is a lot of humour in the script. In one scene, Micky's mother and sisters hold siege at Charlene's house, blaming her for Micky turning his back on the family. A fist fight ensues, and, seeing this, Micky's father (a funny Jack McGee), who has just pulled up in his truck to intervene, quickly backs down the street before anyone can see him.

As well as the strong performances from Wahlberg, and the best of the film from Adams, Melissa Leo is also very good as Alice, and actually beat Adams to the best supporting actress Oscar. Alice is a truly unlikeable character, lavishing all of her attention on Dicky (when Dicky spars with Micky to prepare him for a title fight, Alice proudly encourages everyone to look at how good Dicky looks), completley oblivious to the fact that he is a fuck-up. She is also selfish, emotionally blackmailing Micky with remonstrations about 'family loyalty', when she is really only concerned with maintaining control over her son's career.

Bale and Wahlberg: Brothers-in-arms.

A lot of the best scenes in the film are between Wahlberg and Adams. Charlene is a fiery character (an 'MTV girl', as the sisters call her- 'wild')  never afraid to speak her mind, but always with Micky's interests at heart. The two have good chemistry, him strong and silent, her feisty and outspoken.

The film also does a really good job at juxtaposing the lives of the two brothers. For example, at one point in the film, the two brothers are arrested for getting into a brawl with some policemen. Micky is released, while Dicky, facing more serious charges, is sent to prison. Shortly thereafter, we cut from a scene where Micky walks into a neighbourhood diner, greeted by whispers, stares and disapproving shakes of the head, to a scene of Dicky in prison, being greeted like a hero as his documentary is about to air. Simple contrasts like this do more to outline the conflicts between the two brothers, than any scenes between the two manage to do.

With Dicky's crack addiction, and Micky's down-on-his-luck career, it is easy to look at The Fighter in comparison to John Huston's tremendous '72 boxing film, Fat City (a comparison that doesn't favour this film at all). In reality, however, The Fighter is punching more at the level of a Rocky. It's an underdog story, which banks on the charms of its lead character to get you emotionally invested in his story. On that level, this is a success, and when it throws off the conceit of trying to be something more, it works really well. I just feel, given the people involved, that this could have been much more. 3 stars, and a win on points.

Look for another new review in ATLI... #12. Until then, here's looking at you.

And The Loser Is... #10- Past Lives

The 2012 Academy Awards nominees were announced last week, and, while I'm yet to see the majority of the films up for awards, the announcement did present some intriguing battles. Not least of which is the battle for the best director Oscar, which, amongst its five nominees, includes three of America's finest living directors; Woody Allen, Terrence Malick, and Martin Scorsese.

It is the former two who are the focus of this edition of ATLI..., as Allen's Midnight In Paris, and Malick's The Tree of Life are the only two films from the list of nominees that I've seen. Now, as well as being amongst the finest of American directors (in fact, they are amongst the finest of directors worldwide), Allen and Malick are also two of my personal favourite filmmakers. This despite being polar opposites in a lot of ways. Allen, for example, is a prolific filmmaker who has averaged just about a film every year since he began his directing career proper in 1969 (I generally discount 1966's What's Up, Tiger Lily?). On the other hand, Malick, famously reclusive, has directed just five films in his 39 year career (amazingly, and excitingly, he has four projects currently in the works, so maybe he's making up for lost time).

The differences don't stop at work ethic; Allen's films are generally intimate, simplistic affairs, whereas Malick deals in the epic; Allen is very much an urban director, Malick's films focus on the great outdoors, nature and landscape; Allen's films are verbose, most of the dialogue in Malick's films is featured on a narrative track. Still, they are both key American filmmakers, with a unique vision of the place they call home.

I will start then, with Woody Allen's Midnight In Paris, the latest in Allen's recent odes to the great cities of the Europe (London in Match Point, Barcelona in Vicky Cristina Barcelona). This time it is the French capital, of course, which gets the treatment, and I will start by saying this is possibly Allen's most romantic film since 1979's Manhattan.

Owen Wilson was dreaming of the past.

The film stars Owen Wilson (the best in a long line of Woody surrogates, surprisingly likeable and charming) as Gil, a young writer who, along with his fiancee, Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her family, is in Paris on business. Gil is disappointed with his career as a hack-y, but successful, Hollywood writer, and dreams of writing a novel; Inez appears supportive, but doesn't shy away from telling Gil that he is a hopeless romantic, who should be happy with the success he has. This difference in outlook is magnified when Gil begins to fall in love with the city, and expresses his desire to move there and write, like many great American artists of the 1920s.

This is when the film takes a magical turn, as, one night while taking a midnight stroll, Gil discovers that he has indeed been transported back to the 20s, a time of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, and Gertrude Stein. In this time period he gets writing advice from Ernest Hemingway, and becomes besotted with Adriana, the lover of Pablo Picasso (played by a radiant Marion Cotillard).

Cotillard: that obscure object of desire.

The scenes of 20s Paris are some of the most beautiful that Allen has ever filmed, and he truly captures the romanticism of the era. It's also fun to look out for the familiar names who crop up at the various parties that Gil attends (in one stand out scene, he is accosted in a coffee shop by Man Ray, Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel). It is clear that Allen has a genuine soft spot for the era, and that comes through on the screen, aided by the cinematography of Johanne Debas and Darius Khonji, as well as the art and costume team.

While Gil falls more and more in love with old Paris, and more and more infatuated with Adriana, so too he grows further away from Inez. Their relationship represents a typical theme of Allen's films, the battle between the cold and intellectual (here represented by Inez, her family, and her know-it-all friend, played by Michael Sheen) and the magical and romantic (of course, represented by Gil). I mentioned in ATLI... #4, the first part of my look at Allen's Oscar successes, that for a director who is often cited as being intellectual, he shows a lot of disdain for that lifestyle, and actually exalts the fanciful, and even simple-mindedness.

Another favourite Allen theme is the preoccupation with magic, and fantasy, which we can see in his work going back to '82's A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy. I often find that to be the element of Allen's work that I least enjoy, but here he fully pulls it off, crafting a real sense of wonder and romance where it would have been easy to appear insincere, or even hokey.

This film is also up for best picture, has been widely critically acclaimed, and is Allen's most profitable film ever. I think it's his best work since at least Sweet and Lowdown (1998), possibly going back even further. In short, it's wonderful; a light and funny ode to love, art and the importance of having a dream. 4 stars.

The Tree of Life, also up for best picture on top of Malick's nomination, is anything but light, and virtually impossible to summarise. It focuses, in vignette form, on a Texas family in the 1950s, while jumping forward to reveal the fate of the eldest son, and also jumping back in time to the origin of the life. Yes, you read that right; this film shows the creation of the life on Earth. In many ways, this is the spiritual brother of Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, another film that splits opinions, but is so wide in scope and imagination that it is hard not to admire.

For those unfamiliar with Malick's work, he is a filmmaker who has a very particular way of telling stories. His films are very poetic. They have a mythical quality to them, that allows Malick to indulge in his obvious reverence for the beauty of nature. It would be wrong to say that his films are challenging in the narrative sense; despite the odd rhythm that his films exhibit, slowly down to focus on small details, and then jumping ahead in time, they all follow a linear structure. This film is different though. This is challenging. At times it's hard to get a foothold in the film, to get a sense of what we are seeing and what its importance is. We might jump from a scene of the family patriarch trying to teach his children how to fight on their front lawn, to a scene of a Jurassic-era rainforest, where we linger, taking in the sights and sounds. In one scene (for me, the most captivating and beautiful of the whole film, and possibly of any film) we linger for several moments on a dinosaur, lying alone on a beach. It's hard to know what this represents, why Malick chose to include it, but watching it you feel a strange affinity to this lone creature, long extinct, and it does draw up questions of where we came from, and what are we doing here.

Brad Pitt exhibits tough love.

The more straightforward and conventional sequences in the film focus on the relationship between the three children, their free-spirited mother (played by Jessica Chastain), and their often cruel father (Brad Pitt). In the modern day, the eldest boy is portrayed by Sean Penn, and is struggling to come to terms with the way he was raised. Even in these scenes, events take on a dreamlike quality. There is a sparsity of dialogue, and we jump from one sequence to the next. The Pitt character is the most interesting; a man who you feel has a genuine love for his boys, but often finds that the best way to express it is in teaching them about the hardships of life. It is a character, and performance, which resonates, beyond any other in the film.

It is safe to say that this is not for everybody, evident by the number of walk-outs during its first weeks of exhibition in the USA, but I believe it will stand the test of time as a fine achievement in cinema, and in art. It's a film that has the power to provoke serious thought as to what it means to be human, to love and to hate. The cinematography is stunning, thanks to the Oscar-nominated work of Emmanuel Lubezki, who also worked with Malick on The New World in 2005. I give this film 4 stars, but I could easily see going with 5 after a repeat viewing.

I'm extremely pleased that both of these films, and directors, have been recognised this year. I can't see either winning, but if I had my way, I would like Allen to pick up the best director award, and The Tree of Life to be named best picture, just because it would be a completely out-of-character pick for the Academy.

I should have a new film to review for ATLI... #11, but until then, here's looking at you.