The Alternate Oscars: Best Picture (1969-Present)

[Red Screamer]

Thanks for the write-ups blus, I have the same three favorites. But I want to push back on your praise of movies as, I dunno, moral enlightenment? i.e. Licorice Pizza succeeds because it gives good self-help advice, The Power of the Dog is good because it condemns some characters for being weak and bravely “endorses” others. I appreciate that we have different approaches to film but this seems like a nebulous, private criteria for evaluating the artform and one that’s not conducive to discussion.

[therewillbeblus]

I'm sorry if they come across as the simplistic and vacuous "x is good because y" summaries you're concluding, but I think boiling down my approach to analyzing these films as rooted in "moral enlightenment" is rather thin and unfair if you look elsewhere on the board. My slapdash spot for Licorice Pizza is a gush for sure, but I was intentional around stating that the film functions as "the optimal externalization of the corporeal sublime ubiquitously occurring around us, if we only open our peripheries to access it" contrasted with the "adults" line I opened with- a reading which I've explored fairly in depth elsewhere. For The Power of the Dog, I don't think the film is good because of taking a perverse approach to morality, but this does make it interesting- and it's the methods by which Campion plays with our expectations and comfort levels that gives value to the film, not because I believe 'moral greyness = right!' in a vacuum.

In any case, you are correct that I'm omitting 99% of my thoughts about many of the films in question on purpose, but maybe we just have different approaches to this thread. I use this thread the way many do: as a way to give brief snapshots of impressions regarding the BP nominees, which are certainly condensed here and more inclusive of what's personal to me about them. If I find myself writing too much outside of personal preference, I try to filter that into a post for the dedicated thread, because that's where I prefer the fruitful discussions to take place. Feel free to engage with what I've written about both of those examples in their dedicated threads though- I've said a fair amount in each, and I believe those far-more-detailed thoughts are much more conducive to discussion, and might fill in the gaps for these admittedly surface-skimming writeups you're having a hard time engaging with [I thought about taking DarkImbecile's approach and linking my original writeups from those threads to clarify that these were blips of those, but in many of these cases (included Licorice Pizza and The Power of the Dog), I've made multiple lengthy posts in the threads, and felt like linking the first one might not get at where I wound up feeling about it after some discussion, so I just trusted that if anyone was curious about deeper thoughts they'd go to those threads and find out!]

I hope this defense doesn't come across as anything more than a clarification of the charge with wider evidence of my intentions, and hopefully my more eclectic approach to investigations into the value of film. I just have a hard time hearing an assertion that my general "praise for movies" and "criteria for evaluating the artform" is not conducive for discussion when I've either successfully or attempted to engage in discussions at length about these and other films elsewhere- I really hope that's not how the board views my overall brand of communication or process of evaluation here.

[soundchaser]

FWIW, I think of therewillbeblues's approach to reading art as the opposite of moralistic or didactic - there's a lot of intuition and feeling that goes into his thoughts. Which I guess could be considered equally nebulous, but regardless of how you slice it, "not conducive to discussion" is absolutely not how I'd describe his posting style. If anything, he's one of the more engaging posters here, and I always come away from his readings with a new appreciation for a given film and the knowledge that he'd be willing to discuss if I pushed back or felt differently. And I know I personally don't take to "art as moral enlightenment" - so there must be something else going on.

(Apologies for talking about you in the third person, TWBB.)

[therewillbeblus]

Thanks soundchaser- I guess what confuses me most is that, if I have any "brand" at all, I imagine my continuous gravitation toward moral relativism must be close to it- so the accusation that my approach to the artform is anywhere in the realm of "moral enlightenment" made my head spin around a tad

[Red Screamer]

I’m a little confused about the places my comment has been taken, but I’ll clarify that I meant the metric hinders discussion and not that you as a poster do. As in, who can really say if Licorice Pizza gives good advice or not? If “simplicity of heart and spirit” is really a helpful solution to life’s problems? I have read your posts in those threads and, for example, your reading of The Power of the Dog there expands the same point I had a problem with here, the concept that characters representing ideas compete for the endorsement of the author and the sympathy of an imagined audience.

The film seems to be arguing that the sensitivity [Cumberbatch] has is far more valuable than, say, Dunst’s or Plemons’ shallow sensitivity that starts and stops at the surface, without the depth or resilience of Cumberbatch’s vulnerable core.[…]No wonder Cumberbatch is so lonely- and we slowly begin to realize, despite that part of us desperate not to face the music, that he may be right.. maybe Plemons and Dunst are too weak (and unconscious as non-participants) to deserve sympathy, to deserve the fruits this world has to offer. Campion (and presumably the author) certainly doesn't think they deserve much of our attention!

I think there's still an acidic, understated messaging in Campion/Savage siding with Phil/Peter as the stronger characters (for very different reasons, given the reveals) vs. the diagnosed 'weaker' characters in Rose and George, which we've been trained to root for[…]

That’s not all you’re saying in those threads and I don’t want to diminish your interesting contributions. Nonetheless I find it hard to swallow criticism that praises a film’s message and wisdom value, morally relative or not. At the very least because it’s not medium-specific. I’m not trying to cramp your style, I just wanted to challenge an idea I’m skeptical of and I apologize if I’m overstepping.

[therewillbeblus]

For Licorice Pizza, I compared the worldview to the antidote to Phantom Thread, another film I find a wealth of value in pertaining to the psychology of relationship dynamics vs individualistic needs, though in a vastly different and more fatalistic vs opportunistic way. I’m not saying this film’s advice is rigidly applicable, but that its thesis offers an admirably simplified solution as an option various barriers obstruct. My posts meditate on societal and individualistic influence as well as the spiritual nature and practical merits of partnership, so yeah, the movie affected me deeply on a personal level, but I’m saying a lot more about it from a level that can be engaged with and is not in any way uniformly positioned as truth. The characters - be them Alana or the other adults- 100% have their reasons for operating as they do, just like Reynolds Woodcock did.

I don’t think you’re reading my criticism of Campion’s film the way I intended. There are other posters here who are not politically conservative and admire a film for validating without endorsing a conservative reading with a different milieu and holding it with a liberal one. There’s a lot of challenging in perspective-taking going on against what we’re comfortable with in that film, and I think that lends itself to a humanistic reading and hopefully one that encourages a grey approach to the material without blocking out value from characters we may otherwise negate and box up in a pathological dismissal. If anything, my challenge against the purified worth of the expected-heroes is intended to humanize everyone rather than just the “innocents.” And if I communicated that by meditating on and praising how Campion and co divert attention away from those characters in screentime to narratively demonstrate this point/ push us against the grain of comfort, that’s a means to an end of praising the film for doing something unique and different and altering the audience’s perspectives. I don’t know about you, but I often go to the movies to have my perspective altered and see new colors, and deconstructing how a film manipulates the medium’s predictable paths in genre or form or audience-character relationships (including those centered around morality) to make room foe new experiences, feels wholly conducive for an engaging discussion. I think both of these films challenge our norms of engagement along moral, philosophical, psychological, and social lines, and that’s all I’m trying to get at with my comments.

It would probably be helpful for me personally to respond to questions/comments/concerns about these respective films in their dedicated threads going forth, as I could more easily go back to my posts and keep our engagement organized in the context of the flow of that thread’s overall discussion.

[Red Screamer]

Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to see eye to eye on this one or that more discussion will take us much further. Thanks for taking the time to talk it over with me.

Back on the subject of the Oscars, Robert Greene’s Procession is maybe my favorite film nominated in any category and I think it’d be right up your alley, blus. It’s about—and made in collaboration with—adult survivors of child abuse in the Catholic Church and its approach is a remarkable combination of drama therapy, metafilm, and observational documentary. As psychologically bracing an experience as any I’ve had at the movies the past year or two.

EDIT: Uh nevermind, it wasn’t nominated. I must have misread the similar title of Ascension at one point. My recommendation stands, though its relevance to the thread, alas, does not.

[knives]

I do think, to play Red Screamer’s advocate, that your specific posts in this thread did not reveal the depths of your thoughts instead playing a bit like the greatest hits. For example, although you’ve shown otherwise in its dedicated thread your post on Nightmare Alley comes across as you think it’s bad because it has a different view of alcoholism than you do and thusly is not morally justifiable. Obviously that is not the whole of your argument, but in this one instance it looks that way.

[therewillbeblus]

I know I’ve been open about my personal history elsewhere on the forum, but that’s quite a specific leap to make from a spot that outlined broad issues with the film completely divorced from morality as it pertains to viewing alcoholism, with del Toro’s nonchalant approach to shooting Cooper picking up a drink as a very vague example of his inconsistent attention to executing ideas with the significance he established earlier. Anyways, I already admitted that these are Greatest Hits thoughts and that I use this thread for different purposes than individual film discussion as Red Screamer might, so it’s a moot point that probably doesn’t need to be restated. I’ll take the note and try to be more thorough in the future!

[Brian C]

Belfast: Kind of enjoyable, mostly lukewarm piece of obvious Oscar bait. It's a struggle to think of too much to say about it, because its aims are pretty low and its execution is no more ambitious. So I'll just say that I think the decision to make this black-and-white is a sort of "tell" - there's no reason to make that decision unless you want to show off that the movie is capital-A Art. There's obviously a million good movies to be made about growing up in Belfast during that time period, but Branagh just isn't trying very hard here.

CODA: Another enjoyable, mostly lukewarm film, albeit more low-key than the worst of the Oscar bait contenders. I was actually surprised that this one doesn't strain so hard to emphasize its own social importance, and is instead content to ride an extremely charming performance by Emilia Jones to accomplish its audience-pleasing.

Don't Look Up: I can see why so many people disliked this, because it's as acidly cynical as anything I've ever seen. But it's observationally very sharp, and McKay's no-holds-barred approach here is bound to turn people off just because he's willing to make the audience a target as well. Whether this approach is politically effective is very much up for debate, but I admire this a great deal as a didactic essay on just how fucked we are. Do I wish it was funnier and worked a little better as a movie? I do. But do I think the movie hits its targets with moral and intellectual clarity? Yes.

Drive My Car: An excellently directed film that nonetheless felt schematic and empty to me. I think the most interesting aspect of the film for me was the process of staging a play with a cast that speaks 4 different languages, but the fatal flaws here are 1) there are several characters here more interesting than the central character, and 2) the way that the film uses Uncle Vanya rubbed me the wrong way. I was reminded of how Almodovar, for example, will directly reference movies like All About Eve or Eyes Without a Face, but use them as a jumping off point for going in a completely different direction than those references. Hamaguchi, on the other hand, uses Uncle Vanya as an emotional crutch, leaning on it to make its emotional connections. Ultimately, though, I didn't think the film's exploration of grief to cut very deep - this is a movie where the emotional revelations are doled out on as much of a schedule as the setpieces in any studio action film, and it's all so grave and humorless yet predictable and shallow. And like I said earlier, there are a few characters here that might have centered more interesting movies than the one we get. The chauffeur's backstory is a lot more unique than Kafuku's, for example; but if nothing else, the film proves that pre-occupation with middle-age male sadness isn't just a Western thing.

Dune: Not familiar with the novels, but I enjoyed this more than any of the other nominees. It's a real weakness of the film that (by necessity) it can't stand on its own, what with the sequels on the way and as a result, Villeneuve has to end things more or less arbitrarily. But on the other hand, I appreciated the chance to let the story breathe a little bit, and go into some detail in how things worked here and establish the politics. I guess what it boils down to is that I felt like I was on Villeneuve's wavelength here. This isn't really good enough that I'd want it to win Best Picture in a normal year - it didn't affect me half as much as Villeneuve's own Arrival from several years back, for example - but in this year of extremely dull nominees, I gotta pick something. And I'm looking forward to the sequel, so that's something.

King Richard: This might have been something if it didn't have so much goddamned Will Smith. It's easy to imagine an interesting movie about the Williams sisters growing up with a demanding parent in a neglected neighborhood and being hyped and from a relatively young age while all the while having to deal with racial resistance in a very white sport ... but what we get instead is Will Smith doing his damnedest to mug his way to an Oscar. This reminded me of nothing more than James Franco's The Disaster Artist, where an actor looks at someone else getting attention and saying to himself, "man, I gotta get me a piece of that action." I can't express my contempt for his performance here enough - never credible or honest for even one second, while stealing as much of the Williams sisters' valor for himself as he can. Smith has always had a sense of vanity to his acting that overwhelms his performances, and indeed serves as the foundation to his performances. But this is the worst he's even been, and the movie is too half-assed to even come close to being able to deal with it.

Nightmare Alley: I wrote about this in the dedicated thread, so I'll just repeat that this is a thoroughly unenjoyable movie.

The Power of the Dog: I've enjoyed Campion in the past, but this felt uneven and unfocused and just ... not very good. I just didn't think it even got off the ground, a mass of weighty yet undeveloped themes and a narrative that was a big shrug to me. Something something "toxic masculinity", ok whatevs. For a movie that's blanketed with acting noms, I just didn't think that any of the characterizations here were very thorough or all that deep.

Licorice Pizza: In-jokey and foggy-brained, the film's extremely specific evocation of L.A. past alternately amused me and put me off. Enjoyable but spottily so, and ultimately it feels like someone telling stories with old friends when you're not one of the old friends - it can be funny but mostly you just feel like you had to be there. In a year like this, that's enough to put it in the top half of my rankings, maybe even in the top third. But, eh.

West Side Story: Felt anachronistic from the start, and Spielberg and Kushner have weirdly updated the Puerto Rican Sharks to match more modern attitudes, but not the reactionary white Jets. That's fine as far as it goes, and probably even a fair metaphor for American politics at this point in time, but it's very strange to me to see a power struggle between one group that is set in the 1950s, and another group that feels like they've time-traveled from 2020 and dressed in period clothes. It's well-directed from a technical perspective, but I also don't think Spielberg ever moves past a defensive position with the remake - the idea that the film needs to live up to the spectacle and the reputation (for better or worse) or Spielberg's own option of the original. This is a common issue with remakes, I think - by way of contrast, I think a recent remake that does get past this is Cooper's A Star Is Born - but Spielberg's film never establishes a reason to exist on its own instead of inviting comparisons with its predecessor.

My vote: Dune

[therewillbeblus]

2022

All Quiet on the Western Front: This reminded me a lot of 1917 - that is, a bombastic exercise in technical prowess made at the expense of a compelling narrative that colors in characterization or attends to multifaceted experiential nuances. It's a film that seems to believe that self-seriousness in a war pic is the most important asset in communicating the horrors at play, but this only works effectively when we have stakes and feel the losses, often repeatable, as resilience bobs and wilts against the grain of external circumstances. I can't say that the film is 'poorly made' but it does feel poorly-conceived, a pointless remake of a film that did translate such themes under an appropriately eclectic tone, making this reductive one-trick pony all the more frustrating, and ironic - it seems we lost elastic filmmaking ambitions over the course of a century!

Avatar: The Way of the Water: I wasn't going to post until I saw this, but it's not going to hit streaming 'til July, I won't go see it in a theatre, and zero impressions I've read or heard from those who have a spectrum of feelings on it indicate that when I do I'll have anything to say about it. I have a pretty strict rule about posting these writeups if I haven't seen all the films, but this year I'm making an exception (and not taking feedback on that personal choice) - not just because I absolutely loathed the first one, but because, of all movies, Cameron's is wholly transparent about what it 'is' and what we as an audience will get. It's selling tickets based on an advertised promise of an experience, and seems like the safest bet of a movie to cast the oft-unfair assumption of 'I think I already have an idea of what this one is like', but I'll crawl back here and eat my own words if this winds up being entirely different and catapulting its way into the place of my favorite of the year.

The Banshees of Inisherin: Intellectually powerful and emotionally insightful existential parable, anchored by a quartet of strong performances in a chamber setting. This insulated stage interestingly serves a similar function as Everything Everywhere All at Once, the other top BP-contender speaking volumes to audiences this year, only utilizing an opposing sense of space. Both films speak to our feelings of suffocation and unimportant and small against the grain of a world of overwhelming and unknown stimuli (be they conceptual or philosophical questions or too many options) and our relationship to distractions and agency in choosing life paths. As witty and creative as McDonagh's script is, I'm not sure he's capable of writing a play that doesn't flaunt his pretensions, though this is certainly progress! I can appreciate that he's got so many strong ideas brewing in his noggin that he can't help but get them out on the page -we can smell our own- but that doesn't mean he should make the room in every case. Farrell gives a complicated, diverse performance quite unlike anything he's done before, but Condon is the standout, and the film's richest moments are its more restrained ones: like Farrell crying on the carriage silently next to his friend, and Condon letting Keoghan down easy by the moonlit water. That latter scene demonstrates the human authenticity McDonagh is capable of at his best, a pendulum swing from McDormand's part in Three Billboards, which hardly had a genuine shred to it. He never returns to that film's inert state of total inauthenticity, but some of his forced comedic bits get too close, or rather stray too far away from the places he's effectively grazing here to feel tonally consistent or cohesively-building to the destination it wants to go. Still, in a year of below-average nominees, it's one of three strong movies to make the cut.

Elvis: I already wrote about this mess at length, but I can't think offhand of a movie that is as falsely advertised or unsure of what it 'is' as this one. It's a piece of Tom Hanks performance art playing a real-life Faust and sidelining Butler's Elvis, who is a supporting 'character' in his own movie. It's always a strange feeling when a movie parades its ethos of tone with brazen aesthetic transparency, but still leaves its tonal intentions within that unintelligible. Moments like Elvis' peers telling him that his career is "in the toilet," emphasizing the words that will reflect his death but omitting a single pause to indicate irony or awareness is bizarre in a film winking at you left and right in other respects. It's somehow a shocking mess from a filmmaker already established as an auteur who makes messy trash. There's usually uniformity and clarity between what he's doing and trying to do.

Everything Everywhere All at Once: Eclectically topical, fun and funny action dramedy delivering a lot of key cinematic pleasures refurbished in a novel package. I'm not convinced that it all works as well as I thought it did on my first watch, but it's an ambitious, smart, and emotionally intelligent film, that doesn't need to reach for new philosophical ideas to connect audiences to its simple presentations of generational trauma, overwhelming stimuli, 'what if' existential crises, and the necessity of two people to put in the work to create a safe space in order for us to touch some grass and achieve intimacy in such an isolating world. That last point may appear so obvious, but the lack of reciprocal willingness and the expectation for 'the other person/not me' to independently resolve their issues, seen as The Problem, is what seems to plague so many relationships and cause so much loneliness in today's climate of interpersonal dynamics. The greatest outcome of this winning will be the gigantic audience who fell in love it checking out the Daniels' first feature, mostly because it's a great movie masquerading as an immature romp, but also because so many of are going to be repulsed in shock by the BP-winner's not-exactly-prestigious brethren. I'd pay to see a montage of the looks-on-faces in my neighborhood alone over the next year of lib rentals.

The Fabelmans: The first short act is some of the best work Spielberg has ever done- capturing the star-eyed experience of a child discovering and developing their passion. Unfortunately it goes off the rails from here, and becomes a deeply ironic film in the denouement when Spielberg clearly believes his life's work was inspired by Ford's advice to not bowl down the middle.. and yet he plays everything safe here, never really digging into his past or feelings about it in a manner that communicates something original or vulnerable. Apart from the opening, Paul Dano is the best thing here, and while I generally appreciate nominations for brief juicy parts in supporting categories, Judd Hirsch's eccentric relative doesn't offer much and took the spot of someone who did earn a place at the table, in arguably the toughest role to sell.

Tár: I've already spoken about this at length, but it's an impressively-crafted and performed piece on a fascinating topic that never amounts to become as rich as its aspirations. Not choosing a side is fine, but the film tries to have its cake and eat it on too many occasions, and I remain unconvinced that it earns the depth many see in Blanchett's clearly-complicated-but-maybe-worthy-of-our-attention titular star, especially when the film answers the question of worthiness it poses in the attention it gives her while refusing to own it; remaining in an impossible state of objectivity and subjectivity whenever it feels like switching sides, and then selling these confounding cue-switches as psychologically artful. A frustrating cop-out of a movie.

Top Gun: Maverick: Impressive flight work, but the rest is a lame projection of hackneyed dynamics we've seen a million times before. I love Tom Cruise, but I don't see him or anyone doing anything spectacular here, in a movie that only exists for 'spectacle'. I'm all for a good popcorn flick getting a slot here, but not even the action was all that stimulating, and this wasn't the one to make it - though I think Nope might've been too smart for the awards circuit this year...

Triangle of Sadness: Being transparent about your satire can put a lot of people off, but Östlund is doing a lot more here than meets the eye, and that last hour eclipses many structural choices in film grammar early on to give them new meaning. A scene between a couple arguing that goes on for a while ostensibly to make the audience cringe in real time sets the expectation for stretching scenes just seconds longer than is comfortable, and that economical manipulation pays off wonders in the third act - especially when the same dynamics come up only bent under alternative conditions to reveal punchlines deeper, and more unsettling and unresolvable than we could possibly handle if packaged without the blunt comedic wrapping paper. It's been sad to see so many people look only at the exterior of low-hanging fruit before disregarding the film, when there's so much being said that's not on the surface. But it's also hilarious and intelligent on the surface too. I don't know much, but I do know that Dolly De Leon should've been nominated.

Women Talking: An often-tedious, poorly-written and conceived theatre piece, but one that's often well, if over-acted. Polley implements a few unremarkable but well-placed visual cues to re-remind us she's a talent behind the camera, but she takes an otherwise humble backseat role to her performers. Claire Foy is by far the most interesting character and the strongest performer, and should've snagged a nom as well. Material this topically relevant, that pits empowered will against the merits in unconditional forgiveness within a dynamic of powerhouse actresses, should be more stimulating than this- particularly when the latter position is didactically negated through the aggressive force of patriarchal agency. I get why that has to happen, and I agree with Polley's perspective and the rationale within the film, but it dilutes the compelling opportunities and overall purpose of a multi-character theatre piece, so I’m not really sure why this film exists and what it’s offering that's new. A missed opportunity, but Sarah Polley winning an Oscar sounds great to me, even if it will be for the film's weakest attribute, unfortunately linked to the film's title, ironically connected to the true thematic merits of women cultivating collective empowerment through discussion.

My vote: Triangle of Sadness

[DarkImbecile]

2022
All Quiet on the Western Front
So many possibilities for dismissively mocking this title, but after much consideration I've decided to go with All Quiet on the Meh-stern Front. There are definitely praiseworthy elements in Edward Berger's adaptation of the classic novel and its Oscar-winning 1930 film version — the cinematography, production design, makeup, and sound design were all perfectly acceptable Academy Award nominees, though I wouldn't have given any of them a statue — but that baseline competence in craft serves to make the wrongheaded technical and narrative decisions even more disappointing. The most obnoxious element of the score is overused and poorly deployed, putting a three-note exclamation point on moments that would have been better served with something more subdued. Most egregious is the decision to undercut the novel's illustration of the grinding pointlessness of the war's machinery of slaughter by tacking on an ending that steals from both Paths of Glory and Saving Private Ryan, transforming the whole sad point of the novel's title into a bombastic battle sequence that culminates in a childishly ironic twist.

Having lodged those complaints, I will say that I was impressed by several performers, but particularly the obvious movie-star charisma of Albrecht Schuch and lead actor Felix Kammerer nailing his debut film role. I can almost guarantee that the single scene most responsible for the film's awards season success is one more faithfully taken from the novel in which

SpoilerShow

Krammerer's Paul is stuck in a crater with a French soldier he has wounded, but whose death is slow and painful. As Paul's bloodlust collapses into empathy and horror at this man's fate, the film finally grasps a bit of the humanist revulsion at industrial warfare so central to the novel — and so much of the rest of the WWI generation's literary contributions — that otherwise eludes it.

Avatar: The Way of Water
The worst of the three big-budget, technically masterful franchise entries that somehow not only cleared the ever-lowering bar for Big Popular Movies but transcended to the level of Good Big Popular Movies. Would have rather seen The Batman in this spot if it had to go to the merely good and profitable, but I'm glad there are still obsessive control freaks like Cameron helping to show that its possible to treat a broad audience with something above the disdain that most mega-franchises offer.

The Banshees of Inisherin
McDonagh's best film, and the one that shows the most promise that he can marry his tendency toward shock violence and cruelty to his characters with a thematic heft and careful tonal balance that lends those more provocative elements meaning rather than leaving them hollow. His excellent screenplay treats both sides of this two-man civil war (and the others who suffer in its wake) with a warmth and care lacking in his previous two films while retaining his facility for language and wit, and a truly remarkable cast rewards that care with four stellar performances. Could have been a worthy winner in a year of weaker nominees.

Elvis
Austin Butler was quite good, the production design solid, and Luhrmann's overwhelming stylistic tendencies actually work in some of the concert scenes. This concludes my positive remarks.

Everything Everywhere All at Once
A largely delightful burst of creativity and low-budget ingenuity that I'm sure will be subjected to absolutely withering disdain from serious cinephiles now that it has been crowned, but it does seem worth taking a step back and reflecting on how absolutely wild it is that a film that looks like this about people like this even made into the conversation for Academy recognition, much less nearly swept the top prizes. For all its ongoing imperfections and foibles, I for one appreciate this new expanded Academy so much more than the one we had less than a decade ago; I won't get on my soapbox again about why The Oscars Do Matter, Actually, but I think we can all agree that they've chosen to recognize a film that will actually linger in the cultural conversation, unlike so many previous winners.

The Fabelmans
If anything, my initially mixed reaction has only worsened with distance, as some of the more ephemeral pleasures of Spielberg's visuals and the Lynch cameo have faded; I maintain that there's a compelling movie in this material somewhere, but I think it's asking too much of Spielberg to dig all the way down to it.

TÁR
Still the 2022 film most obviously destined to be studied, revisited, and canonized, and one whose lack of awards recognition will appear increasingly absurd to future generations.

Top Gun: Maverick
One of the best pure blockbusters of this century, and one of the rare sequels to retroactively elevate its original entry by association. Interested to see how Kosinski's career unfolds — in the Ridley Scott/James Cameron mold, he's a technically proficient filmmaker who can manage large-scale projects but with thus far a blank page where any auteurist thematic interests might be. This makes him a perfect pairing for someone like Cruise who imprints himself on the films they've collaborated on far more than the director has, but in the wake of his first big success I wonder if Kosinski will try to assert a vision alongside his professional competence.

Triangle of Sadness
I still need to revisit this to give it my full attention, as I was more than a bit distracted during the packed screening in my city's small arthouse theater by the late appearance of a small group of college-age women who spread themselves over two rows in front of me, and then proceeded to audibly converse with each other. I was able to hold it together for about twenty minutes before leaning forward and loudly saying, "Excuse me, but would you mind shutting the fuck up please?" I've now been recognized twice in return visits to the same theater as "that 'shut the fuck up' guy", and also started going to therapy, so even if I never like this film as much as Östlund's two previous features, I'll always remember it.

Women Talking
I suspect that this film's prospects suffered greatly by not getting a wide theatrical release prior to its appearance on Netflix — every time I've seen bits of it on television (broadcast or streaming), the color palette looks noticeably more washed out and dim than the screening I attended in Telluride, and of course there's basically no way the more powerful elements can have the same impact alone in one's living room with a phone in one hand as opposed to surrounded by hundreds of people having emotional responses and giving the film their full attention. Obviously anecdotal, but the handful of people I know who've watched it at home haven't been impressed, and the two who ventured to the theater were as taken with it as I was.

Lovely to see Polley win recognition for expertly adapting what I understand is an extremely uncinematic book — and still disappointing that she wasn't nominated for shepherding a tremendously talented cast to uniformly excellent performances.

My vote: TÁR

[therewillbeblus]

20 years of therapy later, I've been able to implement gentler shushes in the theatre, so there is hope

[DarkImbecile]

I mean, I said "excuse me" AND "please", not sure how to improve on that

[therewillbeblus]

Sounds like the kind of response I’d expect from Lydia Tár

[DarkImbecile]

You better hope you’re not guest-conducting an orchestra in the near future

[Toland's Mitchell]

I'll take the first stab at 2023's lineup.

American Fiction: I went into this merely expecting a racial satire, and was pleasantly surprised that it was much more than that. It's very human film, as we follow Jeffrey Wright navigating the tough waters of maintaining professional integrity, while addressing familial crises. The Johnny Walker metaphor doesn't just work for its specific scene, it works as a metaphor for life, reminding us that many things that influence us are outside of our control, and sometimes we must make sacrifices for self-preservation and for the greater good of our loved ones. It's not all serious, however. The satire on race and popular literary consumption truly bites, and I can't think of any joke that fell flat.

Anatomy of a Fall: Only one word separates the title from the 1959 Preminger classic. While it's not an apples-to-apples comparison, some things the two films share in common are: 1. The lengthy run time, little to none of which feels wasted. 2. The crime/courtroom elements. And 3. The final verdict hardly matters, for what holds our interest is the complicated issues and character relationships that led to the crimes(?) of the titles' namesake. I really like the forensic element too, which asks (not answers) questions about Sandra, and her role (or lack thereof) in her husband's death. Our uncertainty is deepened through the series of flashbacks, showing quite the hostile marriage. Guilty or innocent, Sandra's life was not getting away unscathed. Great performance by Hüller. She'd get my vote for Best Actress.

Barbie: Certainly not the misandrist film some claimed it to be, as it shows matriarchy has its own set of problems. The film has something to say through its jokes and monologues, but they're a bit too on-the-nose for my taste. Didn't care for the long-running cellulite joke, and it seemed Will Ferrell didn't serve a purpose after his first 2-3 scenes. I understand what people like about it, but it's not exactly my cup of tea, and I would've been fine if its only award is the one it already owns...'Biggest Box Office Hit of the Year', that got people in the theaters again, right before the effects of the SAG Strike settled in.

The Holdovers: A heart-warming holiday dramedy, led by great performances by its three central characters. A very good film, while not my top choice for the grand prize, I would be totally fine with wins by Paul Giamatti and Da'Vine Joy Randolph.

Killers of the Flower Moon: Another fine historical drama from our friend, Marty.

Maestro: A forgettable music biopic. Well-acted from what I recall.

Oppenheimer: Nolan is always an ambitious visionary, who triggers both the senses (especially on the big screen) and the mind. But for the first time in over a decade, the technical attributes enrich something totally worth latching onto, a compelling titular character in the midst of global conflicts. Cilian Murphy gives his best career performance to date. It's very fast-paced, crammed with cameos playing historical figures, but we never lose sight of the two major narratives being presented, one being the Manhattan Project, the other being the postwar hearing. These two stories could've been told consecutively in linear fashion, but cutting back and forth between them without stealing each other's momentum was a great accomplishment in editing, and made it a more engrossing experience. I wish Emily Blunt had been better utilized, and the film had the nerve to show the bombs' effects. But otherwise, no complaints.

Past Lives: Not bad. But in terms of theme, style, and content, it feels like an imitation of better films. Films that come to mind are those by Wong Kar Wai, Linklater's Before Trilogy, and even more recent films such as Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy and Worst Person in the World. The character development and sentimentality in Past Lives just isn't as strong as the aforementioned, and the muted performances don't entirely work as a result. Although there are some scenes that work nicely. For example, the first video call in the beginning, as well as when Nora and her husband are in bed, and he mentions that she only speaks Korean when she talks in her sleep. However, the film is a mixed bag overall.

Poor Things: The more outrageous Yorgos gets, the better his films become. Poor Things was pure joy!

The Zone of Interest: My immediate reaction wasn't good, though I may have been harsh. The film essentially says that while atrocities take place, there are people right next door profiting from it, or merely trying to ignore it and go about their lives. That message firmly came across by the 20 min mark, and didn't expand for the film's remainder. I get that's part of the point but it left me a little frustrated. It could have been a short. Furthermore, there are a number of different settings to possibly make a film about complacency juxtaposed to atrocity, but choosing the Holocaust feels a little pandering to people's sensibilities and to the tastes of the awards circuit.

My ballot (the Academy does preferential ballots, so I will too):

1. Anatomy of a Fall
2. Poor Things
3. Killers of the Flower Moon
4. Oppenheimer
5. American Fiction
6. The Holdovers
7. Barbie
8. Past Lives
9. Maestro
10. The Zone of Interest

[therewillbeblus]

2023

American Fiction: Part dysfunctional family drama/'Who-Am-I?' existential romance, part social satire on racism's relationship with commerce in 21st century America; this is a messy movie that nonetheless emerges as the optimal possible product of its literary roots, where satire more smoothly fits into a regurgitation of the enmeshment of blackness into dominant, domestic banality of middle-class existence. A lot of people seem to be complaining about the narrative's bifurcated structure, wishing for more satire or more family time, but not both. I simply don't get it - the Desplechin-y yarn of dysfunctional, deep-rooted, barely-understood family dynamics and personal insecurities must start and be left in media res, just as the satirical piece serves as an anti-climactic, non-cathartic, impermanent pitstop in a man's midlife crisis. Wright -in the kind of understated yet phenomenal performance he can emit in his sleep - craves permanence, even something dysphoric, because that might mean an end to one of the many 'problems' he struggles to keep right-sized or even grasp. The notion of life as a series of neverending books opening rather than closing to make room for others opening, is the kind of life lesson he needs to learn. What better way than to demonstrate such a lesson by reflexively starting a bunch of narrative strands and leaving us with the main character in front of them, surrendering but relieved, perhaps now ready to engage in full-measures on a few of the most important. Brown plays a fun role, understated as well but in a slight nuanced manner that evokes so much subtle emotion. Adam Brody is perfectly cast as an ignoramus and John Ortiz succeeds at proving once again, even louder this time, that he deserves more screen time, (and to just generally be in everything).

Anatomy of a Fall: A film that announces its lack of concern with a procedural outcome the more it sinks its teeth into its procedural details, dismantling expectations of the genre formula by revealing to us that we're really interested in the subject of Húller as a symbol for all us unconditionally-dignified human mysteries who deserve privacy (in a world that appears to be exponentially dispensing more aggressive modes to invade one's privacy), and not an answer to either the mystery of the crime or her 'personhood', because it's undefinable in two hours and inappropriate to even attempt to invade. It's Interesting that this is lead for original screenplay, there's some cringe-inducing dialogue (most lenient judge for the prosecution, ever? Or is France just unapologetically judiciously ruthless?) along with the deceptively simple bland talk during the interrogations, but I'm glad it's being honored for what actually makes a good screenplay centered around an enigmatic character: Involving us in a narrative that elides crucial information without ever making it feel more important than the information on the character's humanity in front of us. That's a tough thing to pull off, and I'll give us much credit to Hüller as to Triet for channelling this so effectively. It doesn't all work, but I think it's asking us to engage with it in a similar way as TÁR did, even if they have wildly different structural approaches and ultimate goals with the projects.

Barbie: It's funny, I usually rely on Nolan for the wildly imaginative, eclectic blockbuster capital-M Movies every few years. So it's a welcome surprise that his film from this year remains strong on more grounded but still rousing merits, while its main competition -Gerwig's feminist satire about a doll that ruined many women's relationship to how they see their bodies, perhaps forever- ascends even that flexible skeleton to play around in. This is that, but it's just as much of a musical, existential drama (honestly, one late-act sobering moment Barbie has rivals Oppy's own late-act sobering moment!) and love letter to play, imagination, the subjective power of signifiers and their connotations.. it's a film that embodies Gerwig and certainly Baumbach's worldviews about messy relationships between what we may view as positive or negative, and how some of those categorical concepts trigger the opposite sensation, accepting dynamics between people and X (other people, objects, history, their environments, ideas) as complex and fatalistically fallible. And they arguably play just as hard into the modern compassion for men, who've failed to emotionally evolve partially, and ironically, as a result of The Patriarchy keeping them in a comfortable zone of burdens, expectations, power, and closed-loop opportunities for growth. I also wish Gerwig and Robbie were nominated for Director and Actress, but Gosling's nom is inspired and I really hope he edges out the forgettable RDJ one for a fun Oscar surprise. This is the best original screenplay of the year.

The Holdovers: Inclusive, insightful, and delightful Holiday-dressed and themed dramedy, with a surprisingly but admirably understated script that confidently communicates its themes and atmosphere by trusting the audience to pick up on its cues. Some critics apparently felt that Vietnam should have been woven into the plot of the story in order for this film to earn the right to include it as a backdrop, but I thought a privileged class of people - who are struggling with their own problems of supreme value to each person, not ranked - only barely glancing in the direction of the Vietnam War while the sole black student died there said a hell of a lot more than most forced tearjerker moments would have, even if the story was built around Da'Vine Joy Randolph instead of Giamatti. She'll rightfully win for a wonderful supporting part that makes up half of the wise heart of the film, along with Giamatti, who I hope wins as well. I wish Payne had screenwriting credit, since from the Q&A it sounds like he wrote at least half of this thing, but what can ya do. This might actually have taken home the big kahuna if it weren't marketed so poorly and sent to Pay-Per-View by the time anyone heard about it.

Killers of the Flower Moon: A great companion piece with The Irishman, and not just because of length. Both films gain distance from their characters to portray the tragedy of delusional man, but this film is much, much angrier and any sympathies are all dried up. Scorsese constantly subverts audience expectations for narrative intervention and characterization, a strategy fitting as a history lesson, and its incessant cyclical nature has a very powerful cumulative effect of triggering sobriety to the repetitive, pathetic behavioral patterns and consequences of delusional rationalizations from rich white Euro-Americans abusing and suppressing brown people. In part due to this approach, it's the first Scorsese movie I exited with the thought that I may never want to see it again. Not a knock - the man has stripped away his sometimes-overcooked flashy digestibility to give us the seething discomfort we deserve. I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall in the Apple offices after the executives saw what they paid for.

Maestro: Lifeless biopic shown through pockets of memories and perspectives, which could be a creative and strategic model if only it was clear why Cooper was doing this. I certainly didn't get the impression that he was avoiding an artificial summation of what makes a historical figure who they "are" inside... I never thought the idea of defining a legacy or character was touched on beyond a grazing piece of drama - putting his child in a confusing position, and the like. I couldn't figure out what Cooper saw in this guy - he's hyped up his obsession in interviews, about how great this artist was, about how he spent six years practicing conducting to get six minutes of a scene right... but why? I never felt like Cooper communicated the spirit of the maestro whose spirit he was clearly trying to capture more than anything else in his life - all of which is glossed over. Truly a confusing passion project. Maybe Cooper was drawn to him because he loved performing, and the guy was such a "character" - but didn't realize that being a "character" is all-surface, and playing a character requires depth. I don't know, that's the best I've got.

Oppenheimer: Nolan approaches the biopic more effectively - allowing Oppy to remain an enigma, and asking us to compare our own self-preserving gray positions towards overwhelming moral issues, rather than identify with any intricacies of his personality. The result is an emotionally potent, thought-provoking history lesson-slash-modeling of normal existential acuity manifesting as psychological dances with oneself. Oppy is a genius, or a monster, or the lab rat whose leader-following capabilities inherent in the grey-thinker were capitalized on by the government, his thirst for participating in proven theory and scientific expansion was fated to trump reservations leading him to those free-thinking characteristics - the ones that shamelessly frequented and trail-blazed organizations rooted in social ethics. Murphy takes on the role as the enigma Nolan respectfully wants him to be, and he might lose the Best Actor statue because of it - because he did the 'right' thing and played the role in a way that doesn't quite grab us in the ways we expect a Best Actor to do. Good for them. RDJ and his arc remains the anchor this movie can't quite lift to make it to shore, especially the very end, ugh (this was the first time where during the montage and music I felt forcibly tuned down and finally 'got' what Nolan-detractors complain about in his other films)... I like Downey as an actor. He has charisma, and I'd like to see him win. But like Curtis last year.. not for this one, especially when everyone else nominated would be a better fit by simply being a worthy nominee (Melton should be sweeping). Matt Damon, in the least showy part, gives perhaps his best-ever perf and might be the most realistic human being in the film. More roles like his should be rewarded with noms. Casey Affleck being nominated here would also be hilarious and deserved.

Past Lives: This one never had the narrative thrust, cumulative pathos, or character buy-in that past small-indie darlings about a foreign culture's relationship dynamics have had, and this pretty much doomed this chart-ranking critical favorite. People in America are clearly very interested in witnessing stories that are familiarly 'human' and centered around foreign populations for a variety of reasons, but there's this overwhelming desire among the isolated (who are progressively becoming more isolated) to tap into a collective consciousness amidst globalization, and so I think especially-liberal Americans are welcoming foreign art more readily, as a tangible means of 'doing something' about this feeling of disconnect and ever-growing curiosity as we gain exposure to new cultures and systems and ideas. Here is a film that draws a humble tale of intersecting lives and love, gratitude and regret, and so on - but has soft ambitions beyond examining the impact of a reminder of the immense and irreversible power we have, of choice - and how fucking scary and sad and painful and revitalizing and gratifying that is. I thought this movie was just okay, but I liked how it played into a more esoteric cultural arc of immigration and the elasticity of subjective loyalty founded during the folly of youth. There were several moments when this film threatened to be very good, but it deflated its momentum each time. I'm not heartless, and if you got something out of this movie that's great. I just didn't think it went far enough with its ideas, and a more confident writer/director could've done the (admittedly difficult) job of pushing these themes into the deep end without losing balance and seeping into melodrama. I probably wouldn't be expecting this to have done that if it weren't a BP nom, 'cause the academy loves that heavy stuff.

Poor Things: Here is a movie where Emma Stone - who can emote an entire story with just a couple complex facial expressions - experiences all sublime 'firsts' in life, while simultaneously unveiling our socially-constructed world as an abnormal funhouse that's just become normal and boring to us. Good thing Lanthimos, Yorgos, et al. won't let this ever succumb to monotony or typical narrative expectations - even the last act becomes upended by a detour into Gaslight reworked by a more imaginatively surrealist Quentin Tarantino. It's every genre, every mood, and hits the ceiling in every performative or technical field. Complaints about this playing to Feminist Zeitgeist 101 are beside the point: would you rather have a child-brained woman evolve into complexity or simplicity? The film seems to posit that things are simpler than our complicated protective ways of reacting - most of them patriarchal, yes you guessed it, pointing at the pathetic, sensitive male ego, which is by and large true - and so allowing them to exist as such by the end is respectful to the story being told. If Stone was vacuumed up into our world of conformist progressive groups with problem-focused agendas, etc., would it really be inspirational? Or would it get at the key idea of subtracting the chaos and messes that aren't inherent in our lives, shedding the traps that lead to depressive states through simplistic liberation? I don't think so - the simplicity is the gateway to the satire, and the satire is cathartic because it shows that we are in far more control over our perceptions than we believe we are - so it's the gateway to the inspiration. It's literally inspiring the embrace of a more self-freeing worldview like Ema did. While Emma Stone is 10000% brilliant and should walk away with an Oscar (Gladstone is good, and should be duking it out with Da'Vine Joy Randolph in that category instead, "heart of the movie" or otherwise), Mark Ruffalo steals every scene away from her as an animated version of the ubiquitous manchild posterboy. Dafoe expertly draws empathy as a harmful man made by a harmful man (comparisons to Ken's arc in Gerwig's film, anyone?), representing the socially constructed lineage of patriarchal disempowering in contrast to Stone's representation of "essence" - of the good possible with a fresh start.

The Zone of Interest: While this film takes almost the polar-opposite approach of Nolan in his guaranteed-BP blockbuster, a similar kind of discomfort is injected into us, complicit in our complacency without another option granted to us: destined to live in prisons of our own making, or worse, not. This film takes that "worse" option and effectively communicates real horror with economic urgency yet no didactic solution.. instead what matters is that we are conscious to what we are doing and not doing. That is the first step. Oppy is conscious to these horrors and faces them alone - and while that's inarguably the least comfortable life to live than one in constant delusion like this film, it's also inarguably the 'right' thing to do. If there is a right and wrong, it's humility, a conscientiousness to our right-sizedness and our fellow man's dignity and worth, whether we respect it all the time or not. We can all relate to doing the wrong thing, and this will win International Feature for doing that while successfully disguising that side-angle behind the nastiest atrocities one can do - so we can label some characters as aliens, even if we identify on a base level of experience. Oppenheimer will win because it conflates the right thing with what Americans are doing all the time right now - overthinking, egocentrically reacting to a world growing so big so fast that we feel swallowed up as specks, worrying about themselves being the villain in The Story, and alone in that anxiety. Americans can relate to Oppy, only thank god most of us don't have to sit with that on our consciences.

I'm not going to rank them, but this was a pretty good year for nominees. Usually I like about three, but this year I either liked or loved every nominee save for Maestro and Past Lives, and neither was offensively bad or maddeningly over-included or hyped or anything. It would have been really, really cool (and totally possible) for May December to sit in Maestro's chair, if Netflix chose to campaign for the better film. Actually, I guess I hate Maestro now? Eh, I cant, it's just too middling to feel strongly about it in any direction!

My vote: Poor Things