100 Not Nominated For Oscars – Part 20

So there we have it. 100 not nominated for Oscars. And, honestly, we could easily do a hundred more of these absentees. The final five, then, are some of my own absolute favorites that somehow did not have their names called out come the announcement of the Academy Award nominations. A huge, huge thanks to my terrific team of writers that contributed to the series. Go ahead, enjoy the last five, all parts can be found by clicking on the right hand panel.

Adapted Screenplay — Armando Iannucci, Jesse Armstrong, Simon Blackwell, Tony Roche (In the Loop) 2009

Spinning right off the hugely successful BBC satire The Thick of It, the astute In the Loop jumps straight into the serious issues and relationship between English and American politics – but this is essentially a comedy. The powers that be, the decision-makers, are made a mockery of here as the writers expertly exploit the comedy-of-errors driven by such government actions. The dialogue in particular packs a huge punch, crammed with observations, foul-mouthed rants, and flat out hilarious insults. The film is a feast in particular for Malcolm Tucker’s ferociousness – Peter Capaldi is on fire here. And although never quite juvenile, but always somehow smart, you find yourself wondering if these kind of crass exchanges do go on behind closed doors. We are so compelled by the words on screen, as well as the thin-veil of seriousness with which we may take certain political escapades, you want to believe it is so. 

Picture — Once 2007

To bestow praise and love on a movie heavily based on its song lyrics, its music, as well as it’s narrative pedaled by pure heart and soul is to not cheat yourself out of seeing this splendid little gem. Musicals rarely get credit for their writing of non-melodic content, and John Carney’s Irish indie fable is hardly a musical in the conventional sense, but it is a charming, affecting piece of story-telling – both through the film’s plot and the musical numbers. Thought-provoking songs, giving characters backstory and status, Once is a good-natured tale, a triumph of the human heart. The leads, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, as simply Guy and Girl respectively, wrote the songs between them, and perform them on-screen as part of their fleeting, naturalistic modern romance. Carney’s writing is also flourishing, real conversations, awkward exchanges, a rich chemistry, with little dialogue in all he still manages to salvage some true and poignant moments. Not long after the twosome have met, he a Dublin busker of sorts, and she a Czech street flower seller, they find refuge in a music store and sing the unforgettable (and Oscar-winning) “Falling Slowly” – which is kind of what they are doing right before our eyes – and ears. 

Director — David Lynch (Wild at Heart) 1990

David Lynch’s wacky and what-the-fuck appeal must have nudged the Academy pretty hard when they nominated Diane Ladd for Supporting Actress this year. Wild at Heart may be a little twisted as road movies go, so this was never going to be a Best Picture contender. But fans of Lynch will agree that this was one of his best and most accessible works as a director – so not too much to assume they could have gone for this having that very year given nods in the Director category to two film-makers not in contention for Best Picture also (Stephen Frears for The Grifters, and Barbet Schroeder for Reversal of Fortune). 

Foreign Language Film — L’avventura 1960

L’avventura is a motion picture like no other, adored by, and inspirational to, many. Michelangelo Antonioni captured mystery, beauty, longing, sadness, like a new art-form of storytelling – his muse Monica Vitti blossomed in front of the camera. Winning the Jury Prize in Cannes, L’avventura was nowhere to be seen with AMPAS. Incredibly, Antonioni would not be recognized by Oscar until he switched to the English speaking Blowup, earning him nods for Screenplay and Director. Awarded an Honorary Oscar in 1995, you have to wonder what the hell they were doing for 35 years. L’avventura is my personal favorite of 1960, a year of true marvel and excellence for films not in the English language.

Director — Christopher Nolan (Inception) 2010

Inception is, in my opinion, the single greatest movie achievement of the year. It lured me in with the anticipation and publicity, and then inevitably blew me away when I eventually saw it on the big screen. It reminded me why we have that urge to go to to cinema. I love pretty much everything about it, the whole original concept, the ensemble players, Hans Zimmer’s score. I could go on. Christopher Nolan directs the set-pieces and the dreamy landscapes with expertise, seemingly fully accomplishing what he had been promising with his prior work. He established himself a truly brilliant director (given his great work on the previously Oscar-dropped The Dark Knight). I am still haunted by that day his name was not read out when the Oscar nominations were announced. One of the great and baffling Oscar snubs without a doubt. No such absurdity should befall him in a couple of months on his way to the Best Director prize for Dunkirk.

That’s all folks. For now. Please leave your comments below.

Masterpiece Memo: L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot

“You have to see your madness through. You have to take responsibility to the end… I believe there’s a job to do every day and from time to time, ideas do or don’t come. It’s like a seed you plant in the earth. Every day, you water it and whatever grows will grow. And there’s no point pulling the stem to make it grow faster. If you do, you uproot it and that’s that!” – – – Henri-Georges Clouzot

L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot (Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno) is the apt title for a piece of abstract art, “kinetic art” as the French film-maker himself would have claimed. A 2009 documentary depicting the reels and reels of film left behind, and the story that goes with it, of what is unquestionably tagged the greatest film never made.

Assembled by Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea, they happened upon Clouzot’s widow Inès, from there it was apparent there was a regretfully unfinished film Inferno, from 1964, which the director believed was his most essential work – and nobody would ever see it. The documentary tells of how this enigmatic non-event warrants the fame and place in cinemas prestigious history. 185 cans of film, consisting of 13 hours of  shot, exposed film. No sound, just images.

With renowned, established greats behind him, L’assassin, Le Corbeau, Quai des Orfèvres, Le salaire de la peur, Les Diaboliques, La Vérité, Clouzot openly suffered from insomnia, with a bout of depression in his history, when started to creative a story that gave physical, visual presence of anxiety and neurosis. Inferno became the obsessive perspective of Marcel, pathologically jealous of his new wife Odette. The script opened with the happy couple but would waste little time in rocking the stability of this fresh relationship.

Following Le mystère Picasso, Clouzot saw a different art form he could be passionate about, and this new wave of creative thinking would aid the development of his new project. Clouzot’s ambitious vision would certainly show in the endless footage of Inferno, so much of which makes it to this illustrious documentary. Unseen rushes of Clouzot and Romy Schneider meeting, hanging out like college kids. Schneider, at 26, was considered a big deal then, not quite 10 years after Sissi in 1955 – the making of her – it was rumored the part of the desirable Odette was written with Schneider in mind.

Marcel’s obsessive jealousy was magnified through such a dynamic use of color, camera framing, dazzling motion tricks, roaming lighting, I mean this is the kind of technical achievements that still knocks you out of your seat today. Inferno was to be a black and white film crammed with a kaleidoscope of emotion-fueled colors. Visions and fantasies, vivid and intoxicating, explode with disorientating colors and light, women appear to wear blue lipstick, the lake inverts to a rich red, . But also, the incomparably radiant Romy Schneider dominates much of the fallacy sequences, revolving glares reveal and hide the contours of her face, glowing tones, the character of Odette licks a front-of-lens water-fall, snippets of arousing caresses, oil-covered flesh, reverse motion of her smoking, plus an immaculately shot of a nude Schneider laying on a track as a train approaches. Words do not do any of this justice.

To state Inferno was a big budget production was only skimming the surface, not an epic film but rather an intricate, super-explorative attempt to feed Clouzot’s unrelenting cinematic eye. That he demanded so much in preparation and execution both emphasized he pure passion and determination, but also shining a light on the difficult working conditions, cast and crew wore down by re-shoots, days and days of shooting, meticulous construction.

Was Clouzot himself obsessive and pathological, like the character of Marcel? Turns out, actor Serge Reggiani (who played Marcel) left the film late into the shoot – he and Clouzot locked horns and only served to build the tension. Clouzot later suffered a heart attack while on location, Schneider herself summarized that this was a turning point that needed to happen to sadly halt the project, his unfinished symphony.

Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea demonstrate a real, raw pride here in bringing as much of this forgotten dream back to life – clearly they are fans of Clouzot. Accompanying the delicious archive footage of Henri-Georges Clouzot, Romy Schneider and co, the documentarians employ Bérénice Bejo (as Odette) and Jacques Gamblin (Marcel) to read lines of dialogue from Clouzot’s rich, unraveling screenplay. A genius move, able to bring to the screen some of the naturalistic exchanges of pure paranoia. Various V.I.P. interviewees providing much of the first-hand accounts of Clouzot’s journey include Costa-Gavras, Jacques Douy, Inès Clouzot, while Janice Jonesusic’s editing pulls it all together, and Bruno Alexiu’s score fits the era and enigma perfectly.

L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot is an integral part of not just the history of cinema, but also a prestigious reflection on the modern movie. Documentaries continue to bang down the door, their significance is matched by their stimulation. The beautiful, bewildering, images of Romy Schneider is enough to compel, but the untold story of Clouzot’s Inferno has to be seen in all its glory – the film that was never to be seen by audiences proves to be both a tragedy and a victory for the art of film. A treasure to keep close to your cinematic heart for all time.

 

Watch Tim Burton Films Live

#DirectorsWeekend – #TimBurton – Friday August 4th – Sunday August 6th

As part of the Directors’ Weekend we’re promoting the opportunity to watch some of Tim Burton‘s movies live online – a viewing event if you will. Below are the selected three films for the marathon Sunday (obviously you can watch other Burton films if you so wish), with Ed Wood, Sleepy Hollow, and Corpse Bride available to stream online on various platforms, and at low prices. Whether you’ve seen them before, or wish to revisit (I may well watch Sleepy Hollow with the daughter), make a couple of hours available to enjoy the finer works of Tim Burton. We also encourage live discussions, details of your viewing experience, your opinions on the aspects of the film-making, however you want to do it. Check out the three films below with numerous links to streaming them.

Ed Wood (1994) — YouTube — Google Play — Amazon — iTunes

Sleepy Hollow (1999) — YouTube — Google Play — Amazon — Netflix — iTunes

Corpse Bride (2005) — YouTube — Amazon — Netflix — iTunes

Start the discussion below. Will you be watching any? Which one? All three? Let us know your thoughts, and even continue the banter as you watch.

Directors’ Weekend – Tim Burton: A New Batman And A Young Robin

#DirectorsWeekend – #TimBurton – Friday August 4th – Sunday August 6th

The release of Tim Burton‘s Batman back in 1989 was a game-changer for many aspects of the cinematic universe. Marking the 50th anniversary of the Bob Kane caped crusader character for Detective Comics (DC), bringing a refreshing dark depth to the Batman landscape on film, innovating film production including set decoration and the uncompromising score by Danny Elfman, not to mention adding a new dimension to film censorship here in the United Kingdom. Following the age-old classifications of U (Universal), PG (Parental Guidance), 15 (had to be at least 15 to get in), and 18 (likewise but 3 years older), the mixture of gothic violence and moody atmosphere with a vibrant presentation and some comic-book choreography, had the BBFC (British Board of Film Classification) banging their heads together to come up with a brand new theatrical release certificate of 12 (apparently suitable for persons 12 years and over). In 1989, the milestone year for me of Batman‘s release, I so happened to be 12 years old. Privileged, exhilarated, and inspired, this was a defining pin in the map of my own childhood.

I was a fan of comics, and superheroes, sure, but Batman was my formidable preference, DC, Marvel, or whatever. The buzz and anticipation of such a film coming to the cinema when you’re a kid is immeasurable, and seldom reach that kind of high as an adult. Childhood is a vastly different universe in some aspects, identical in others, but there might not be anything quite like that fresh excitement of the movies as you still grow and learn about the world. So, like the Star Wars films, this was a really big deal.

Rather than ramble on about the Tim Burton flick, or the unfathomable love I had for his creativity in that era, I want to share with you a small chunk materially of my childhood around that time, but an unforgettable, ingrained memory that will never grow old. Back then, a pre-teen boy, I was growing out of playing with toys (or so I thought, I just last week bought myself a Wonder Woman figure), but had little clue as to where my young life was heading next. The upcoming release of the Batman film took up an astonishing amount of my time (physically and mentally), it was an addiction that was being fed, and was about ready to burst at the seams.

From the most unlikely of sources came a gift I continue to be grateful for nearly 3 decades on. My mother then worked pouring coffee, serving breakfast, filling ketchup bottles. Her manager, a seemingly kind individual, went abroad (New York I think), returning with generous presents for my brother and me. My Batman craze must have been evident, as in my hands was placed a yellow folder that turned out to be an early, and might I add exclusive and rare, production kit for the 1989 Batman release (at that very time shooting at Pinewood Studios). Documents for the most part that had no business to be absorbed by a mere child’s eyes, but to me they were interesting, essential, almost put me behind the scenes of the movies, gave me insight into the production, the history of the Batman phenomena, the fascinating journey Tim Burton’s new film took, and of course the unbelievable array of merchandise about to engulf the planet. To add, I received 3 Batman pin badges, a baseball cap, a tee-shirt, and all manner of Bat-goodies.

It might not seem much to some, but to me it was a prestigious pile of papers and merchandise. I doubt even my mother’s manager knew the importance. Even now, writing about it, thinking about it, I drift back in time to the wonder of it, that immense feeling of euphoria. And now, 28 years later, I share that joy with you all:

 

 

 

Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk And Where To Experience IMAX In The UK

Shortly before I embarked on the screening of Christopher Nolanʼs latest motion picture Dunkirk I filled my face with a gourmet hot dog. Now, it is said that hot dogs such as those are meant to be huge, enjoyed in their full capacity. What we don’t want is to have either end cut off, or the sausage shrunk in scale. Imagine looking down at your plate and wondering what it would have been like in its entirety, how the creator wanted it to be. In my town, unfortunately, I went with the cropped dog, so desperate to eat it, I did not want to at this stage have to venture out to, say, London, Sheffield, or Manchester, where the dogs are consumed in all their intended glory. That said, the bread was toasty, the meat was delicious, and the ketchup/mustard combo made the experience more than worth while. It was still a great hot dog in its somewhat limited presentation.

Unlike the 100 plus venues across the USA and Canada, there are only a select few cinemas in the UK that can accommodate Nolan’s Dunkirk in the way he wanted his audience to see it – on IMAX 70mm. The majority of the picture was shot with IMAX 65mm film (to be shown in 70mm and 35mm theatrically) – cameras also utilized with the filmmaker’s previous efforts The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises, and Interstellar. Long before films were shown digitally and the whole multiplex culture invasion, there were those grand scale movies like Lawrence of Arabia or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Anyone who is anyone in the film world, be it industry professionals, critics, bloggers, the average film-goer, have no doubt witnessed and/or participated in ongoing debates and opinions on the viewing format, so I’ll not get too repetitive or technical here.

What I will do, quickly, is point any UK folk in the right direction should you wish to see Dunkirk in its grand glory. If you are a frequenter of the capital, then you can sail on over to the BFI IMAX, the Science Museum, Cineworld Leicester Square, or, of course, Odeon Leicester Square. Elsewhere across the country the slim-pickings for choice also include Cineworld Sheffield & IMAX Theatre and Vue Manchester IMAX & The Printworks. But take it from me, settling for the regular screening (a.k.a. on a screen not 26m wide for example) is still a momentous cinema-going experience – the good old (newish) digital cinema projection system, vastly enhanced picture quality and surround sound. For one of the many that as of yet have not seen Dunkirk in IMAX 70mm, I can still safely speak volumes for the wonders of the film.

The opening shot of Dunkirk sees stranded soldiers wandering the desolate streets, leaves of paper scattering through the air. The men drift apart in their ambles, looking for any sign of salvation at either side of the street. The outward movement of the soldiers is almost like Nolan is inviting the full width of the screen from the get go. From this moment on, the director has our full attention, and will be our guide.

Astonishing visual storytelling is Nolan’s prime objective, and the evidence of his previous films have merged with his undoubted talent for film-making to unite in Dunkirk, feels like the film he has always dreamed to make. With hundreds of thousands of soldiers awaiting rescue and marooned on the beaches of Dunkirk, Nolan’s historical tale is told through three interweaving timelines – on land (1 week), at sea (1 day), and in the air (1 hour), each segment flows into the other so magnetically before they all fuse together in seamless, mesmerizing fashion.

Getting the talked-to-death film comparisons out of the way (I mean, Dunkirk has been out for over a week now, I’m very late to the gathering), obvious references to the likes of Saving Private Ryan or Titanic are both valid and divergent. The opening massacre on Spielberg’s Omaha beach is reminiscent to the landscape Nolan has re-imagined, but both films are mercifully and respectfully different entities. Although pretty much non-stop, Dunkirk is not a full length version of Saving Private Ryan‘s book-ended onslaughts of pinging bullets and ravaged bodies. Nolan’s calculated, tense narrative is a more composed, anticipatory one. With Titanic, Cameron garnered much of the chilling impact from those passengers blocked in and drowning. Dunkirk somehow manages to assume a new level, not necessarily better, but the kind of at-sea/under-water suffering, suffocating, that visually you don’t want to imagine – but are given little choice by Nolan. One innovatively emotive moment, a petrified soldier ducks under the water briefly, putting his hands over ears to block out the horror.

Enrapturing moments like these are aplenty here, moments of terror, moments of dread. To that end, there’s so little dialogue in Dunkirk, or so-called character arcs, and thankfully no love interest or focused story other than that of the survival of these men. Yes, men. As an advocate of stories about women in film, I still won’t entertain the notion that Nolan disregards the female war plight here (and that’s for another debate I’m sure). And these are men scared out of their minds – scratch that, young men, boys – wanting to simply go home and be as far away from the fury and despair as possible. There’s no cliched macho B.S. or witty one-liners, instead the panicked faces of hyper-anxious, jittery souls “like fish in a barrel”. And the higher ranking officers are not portrayed as know-it-all untouchables, the grand plan is hazardous and uncharted – though they may detect the coming tide because of the dead bodies floating inland. Or early on as a stricken boat slopes towards the a pier, a distant scream implies an inevitable end. Shiver.

At times throughout Dunkirk there’s a harrowing, heroic sense of realism. Even the voices radioing each other via the Spitfires sound stiff upper lip and era appropriate – you know, like those old wireless broadcasts. I’m fairly certain Nolan favorite Michael Caine plays a part here. The dialogue is muffled here and there, but rather than this be a direct flaw of the film, this has to surely highlight the imperfect communication of the time and place, not to mention the mind-scrambling nature of war.

Those dynamic aerial dogfights with the incoming planes of the Luftwaffe are shot with such vivid grand scale, these moments are as close to a flight simulation as you might get on celluloid without appearing stylized. Planes turn, and we turns with them – and so do our stomachs at times. Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema has our whole world in his hands here, with point of view shots, prolonged cockpit claustrophobia, sweeping views of the war torn skies. Shall I go on? And there’s no mid-air explosions or perfect hits, these airman have to steer and grind and sweat and surrender many bullets before striking a hit of any significance. It’s a pain-staking, fear-fueled journey, Dunkirk demonstrates the vulnerability to attacks of open land, the sea, and the sky.

The sound design plays a huge part of course. The silence-piercing enemy planes can be heard before they are seen (a frightening thought on its own), thousands of fearful soldier faces turn to the skies. A horrifying siren of soaring danger heading their way, louder and louder, before inevitably dropping their sequence of bombs. Boom, boom, boom, BOOM. It’s so unavoidably tormenting, as though we’ve not seen these kind of scenes before in the movies. Creaking, folding ship walls, under-water cries, engines cutting out, planes hitting the sea from afar, bullets pinging through metal – the impact of the sound effects make this whole ordeal oh so real.

Hans Zimmer ‘s score for Dunkirk is a beautiful terror, a long, lingering siren, it is your heart beating, dictating your blood flow and playing havoc with your nerves. My heart was bump-bumping, that I was all too conscious of. The haunting, ambient score will ring in my ears for days. Weeks even. There’s a continuous hum of doom, a distant tick-tock Zimmer used so devastatingly well in The Thin Red Line, an almost eerie horror score breaks the waters and ruffles the sand. Zimmer ’s tones and notes often get lost among the penetrating sound design – that’s a compliment for both parties.

Christopher Nolan’s reputation is huge, whichever party you attend. I, myself, like his work a lot, some I have loved (Inception; Memento), some I have found infuriatingly off-the-mark (The Dark Knight Rises; Interstellar), so my place is somewhere between acknowledging his brilliance, scratching my head about his projected vision, but mainly waiting for him to execute his crowning moment. It’s been said many times over already in the sackfuls of reviews Dunkirk already has in the bag, but this one might be it. His flair and courage to go for broke with time-shifting story-telling while promising and crafting grand scale cinema kind of defines Nolan. Dunkirk is a nerve-pulling thriller more than an action picture, crammed with human drama, continuous suspense, and some expertly edited time flips and choreography from start to finish. A symphony of a motion picture experience that we should all live through and survive to tell the tale.