whoever owns the rights to The Great Gatsby

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald was the first “Great American Novel” of the 20^th century. It serves as a story of the unquenchable desire to accumulate wealth in America, and the sometimes unfathomable motives behind that kind of aspiration. And it seems as though the tale of Gatsby is thoroughly irresistible to Hollywood. If you didn’t get a chance to see the adaptation of this classic novel for the screen back in 1926, or 1949, or 1974, or 2000, don’t worry – here it comes again.

About every thirty years, someone in Hollywood turns to somebody else and says, “Hey, ya know what I haven’t seen in a while?,” and another top-bill, young, blond-haired, good-looking actor is thrown into a yellow tie and dawns a Yale smirk of entitlement. This year, the task of portraying Jay Gatsby goes to Leonardo Dicaprio.

On May 10, 2013, “The Great Gatsby,” as directed by Baz Luhrmann, will hit theatres. Dicaprio plays Gatsby, a mysteriously wealthy World War I veteran who is driven to not only steal away the love of his neighbor from her husband, but sway her to admit that she never loved him. His neighbor, Daisy Buchanan, is played by Carey Mulligan. Tobey Maguire, Joel Edgerton and Isla Fisher also star in the film. This will be the fourth time this story has been told on the big screen (that’ not including 2000’s television film adaptation). So, we get it, right? Why try it again?

It’s no secret that Hollywood loves remakes. And why shouldn't they? They get to rely on the audience’s familiarity with the film’s concept to help sell it. Any questions regarding the intricate plotlines of “The Karate Kid” or “Footloose?” No, probably not. It’s easy; the work’s almost done for you. Just redo the poster. In tough economic times, moviegoers will look to something familiar in the hopes of not wasting their money. People aren’t looking to gamble these days. Producing remakes allows Hollywood to pump out more movies, in greater number and faster than original concepts that can take years to develop. Also, with the exception of 2005, Hollywood is doing better than ever, with ever-souring profits. So, why try to fix what ain’t broken.

Well, critics might have a few reasons to start taking chances on original content. Some bloggers, not this one of course, have met the announcements of some remakes with death threats. It’s amazing to me that the premiere storytellers in America are so bashful when it comes to attempting to tell their own stories. Of course, if it’s a showdown between your average Hollywood scriptwriter and F. Scott Fitz-friggin’-gerald, guess who’s going to bow down first? If the scripts “The Great Gatsby” and “Being John Malcovich” both hit a producer’s desk at the same time, guess which one is going to be considered? And that’s the sad part. Every “now classic” story was once a what-the-hell-does-Being John Macofish-supposed-to-mean story. Crack it open. Give something new a chance. You might be pleasantly surprised.

I mentioned Leo being thrown into a yellow tie earlier. Yes, that is actually significant. And so is his yellow car, Daisy’s yellow buttons, and so is the fact that the flowers at the party in which Gatsby and Daisy are reunited are described as smelling like “pale gold.” The pursuit of that purity that only pure gold can offer and the newness its shine radiates are two of the impossibilities that Gatsby longs for.  He hopes to return to a time when he never lost his love (that golden opportunity that slipped away in his golden youth), and he can see that green light of hope out his window, shining from Daisy’s home. Hollywood sees gold in the infallible framework that F. Scott Fitzgerald has constructed, and they see the security of yet another remake. And Hollywood hopes the green will pour in like it did back in their Golden Age. Hollywood’s reasoning behind their obsession over “The Great Gatsby” is obvious, as Gatsby’s desires serve as a metaphor for the town’s longing for revival. It’s Hollywood’s little piece of meta-filmmaking; the Great American Autobiography.

“You can’t repeat the past? Why, of course you can.” And it’s coming to a theatre near you.

Heat

1995 was a great year for movies. “Se7en,” “The Usual Suspects,” “Kids,” “Twelve Monkeys,” Die Hard: With a Vengeance,” Apollo 13,” “Desperado,” “Leaving Las Vegas,” “Mallrats,” “Grumpier Old Men ,” “Dead Man” and Casino” all hit theatres, and are all at the top of my list for that year. Not to mention instant classics like, “Showgirls,” “Waiting to Exhale “and say it with me, “Free Willy 2: Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Johnny Mnemonic.”

However, “Heat,” directed by Michael Mann, stands out most in my mind as not only a great crime thriller, but as a 170-minute-long acting class. Set in Los Angeles, a small circle of high stakes thieves, led by Robert De Niro as Neil McCauley, leave evidence at the scene of their latest heist, an armored car robbery. The LAPD, led by Al Pacino as Lt. Vincent Hanna, catch the scent and begin to close in. McCauley is aging and, with all this “Heat,” is beginning to consider retirement just as he is talked into one more risky bank robbery. Lt. Hanna is relentless in his detective work. So much so, that his personal life begins to crumble as his wife openly cheats on him and his stepdaughter, played by Natalie Portman, attempts suicide. The two men, dedicated to finish what they have started and uphold their respective obligations, are set on a collision course with one another. A part of both men want out of their lifestyles, but each is simultaneously married to it and cannot bring themselves to break free. As most crime films operate in a sort of cat-and-mouse chase, De Niro and Pacino are set in a game of chicken. The only question is who will swerve first?

Pacino plays his Lieutenant Detective as a damaged and obsessed man, at the exact moment he starts to lose his grip on his life and family. “You don't live with me. You live among the remains of dead people. You sift through the debris, you read the terrain, you search for signs of passing, for the scent of your prey, and then you hunt them down. That's the only thing you're committed to. The rest is the mess you leave as you pass through,” his wife says. De Niro is equally weathered, but still sharp and is looking to start over in a new place, with his new girlfriend.  “I'm alone, I am not lonely,” he says.

Robert De Niro and Al Pacino are two of America’s most exciting and talented actors. You might not believe that from some of their most recent role choices, but trust me. In this film, these two actors team-up for the first time. Both actors came into prominence through the first two parts of “The Godfather” series, and both cemented their stay in Hollywood with their following performances: Pacino as “Serpico” and De Niro as the “Taxi Driver.” And although both actors played in “The Godfather Part II,” they only share a crossfade. In “Heat,” the two finally share a scene with dialogue. And it is well worth the weight. The entire movie could have been absolute crap, and this scene would make it all worthwhile. Lt. Hanna gets a tip that McCauley is on the move. Lt. Hanna pulls him over and asks he wants to get a cup of coffee at an LA diner. Both men know there isn’t enough evidence out there to end this, but they feel compelled to meet one another.

In this scene, something interesting is exposed: the two men are mirror images of one another. Not physically, but simply by their nature. The only thing separating them is the side of the law on which they stand. Something Mick Jagger put as, “Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints.” Both men understand that quite obviously their missions contradict one another’s, but they are beginning to realize they will be each other’s undoing. At the diner, they share a brief moment in which this becomes apparent. McCauley says, “I do what I do best, I take scores. You do what you do best, try to stop guys like me.” Lt. Hanna responds, “If it's between you and some poor bastard whose wife you're going to turn into a widow... brother, you are going down.” The lines that define these two characters begin to blur as the plot thickens. By the grand finale, both are left as only shadowy figures, circling each other.

The Last Emperor

This 60th Annual Academy Award Winner for Best Picture is a biopic about Puyi, from his childhood in the 1950s, through his career as Emperor of the People's Republic of China and his eventual imprisonment.

However, another film was released in 1987, and it deserves another look. “Full Metal Jacket,” directed by Stanley Kubrick, follows a platoon (specifically a Marine nicknamed “Joker”) from boot camp training to Vietnam.

This film could be viewed as two separate, short films: the first half following new recruits through basic training at Paris Island, and the second half following a different group of Marines through the Vietnam War. “Joker,” the protagonists, and “Cowboy,” a supporting character, are the only two constant characters throughout the entire film. “Joker,” played by Mathew Modine, is an interesting character choice to lead the audience through the film. We aren't ever told where he came from (volunteer or drafted?), and we aren't even directly told his real name. All it seems the director has decided we should know is that this man is an all-American boy who is here, now and there’s no getting out of it. As this begins to dawn on “Joker” he is forced, as I’m sure many young men were, as to how best to deal and adapt to this new reality in Southeast Asia. “Joker” represents a duality of ideals that is embodied in many Americans: we want and work toward peace, but we’re more than willing to fight for it. This is even pointed out in the film, as his helmet even reads “born to kill,” while he simultaneously wears a peace symbol. He projects a facade of bravado, but is visibly nervous with every new turn events that brings him closer to the enemy. He often quotes John Wayne in the company of his platoon, but can cite Carl Yung and confides in a single soldier during an attack, “I hope they’re just f---ing with us. I ain’t ready for this sh--.”

 Another interesting aspect of the film is its depiction of violence. Kubrick has been criticized, citing films like “Paths of Glory,” “Dr. Strangelove,” “A Clockwork Orange” and “Full Metal Jacket,” as being cold, detached and lacking in humanity when showing violence. However, this seems like a contradiction, as most of the complaints stem from the horrific way it’s depicted. How exactly do you want violence depicted in movies then? I think a cartoonish or humorous depiction of violence is far more terrible. The realism of violence, and at times “ultra-violence,” in Kubrick’s films serve a point and furthers the plot or forces emotion.  In Full Metal Jacket, the violence, as seen by “Joker,” is always shown in slow motion. This drives home the horror, as he sees it. Toward the end of the film, when a sniper turns toward “Joker,” it is shown in slow motion and the audience can take away what it wants from that bit of foreshadowing.

Odd and often surprising moments of symbolism can be found throughout the movie. To me, the most interesting instances involve references to Mickey Mouse.

During the climactic ending to “Joker’s” military training career, "Gomer Pyle" is found in “the head” with a loaded rifle. When Senior Drill Instructor Hartman burst in the door to break up the situation, he screams, “What is this Mickey Mouse horsesh--!” Later, when “Joker” meets with fellow military journalists to discuss the recent Vietcong blitzkrieg, a small Mickey Mouse figurine can be seen just over his shoulder. Toward the end of the film, the platoon marches away from a victory, filled with pride and singing, “Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me? M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E… Mickey Mouse!” It seems that every time “Joker” enters a new phase in his advancement deeper into Vietnam, Mickey is there. Are the men longing for a fearless leader to keep their club safe as they grow into men? Are they longing for something, or anything that brings them back or reminds them of America?

 Often cited as being fairly down on the list of Stanley Kubrick’s best films, this film has grown in popularity over the years. I think it might be the most honest and un-Hollywoodized depiction of the Vietnam War. From most of the interviews I have watched that include interviews of Vietnam veterans, I gather that the horrors of that war were split somewhat evenly between first-hand encounters of extreme violence and loss, and the agonizing suspense of soldiers waiting for the inevitable violence of war. This latter aspect is precisely what “Full Metal Jacket” explores, and Kubrick investigates this with supreme precision. At times, the suspense is absolutely unbearable, and with this, a new and often-ignored aspect of war is uncovered.

This is my favorite film by Stanley Kubrick. I’ve seen it dozens of times, and it never seems to get old. It’s quotable. It’s unforgettable. It’s a classic.

Gigi

This 31st Annual Academy Award Winner, is a musical romantic comedy, directed by Vincente Minnelli, that follows the courtship of Gigi as Gaston, an upper-class playboy, spends time with her in early 1900s Paris.  

However, another film was released in 1958, and it deserves another look. For me, “Vertigo” is one of the most intriguing and rewatchable (not sure if that’s a word, it should be) movies made. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. It is No. 1 on “AFI’s 10 Top 10” “mystery” list, and just last year replaced “Citizen Kane” as “the best film of all time” by Sight & Sound magazine’s critics’ poll.

The film follows “Scottie” Ferguson, played James Stewart, as a recently retired San Franciscan police detective, who is now battling depression and vertigo after seeing an officer fall to his death during a foot chase.  Too young to stay complacent in his retirement, Scottie is talked into “tailing” an acquaintance’s wife, Madeleine, with the objective of disproving any suspicions that her recent, odd behaviors are a sign that she is possessed.  Scottie follows Madeleine, played by Kim Novak, as she spends her day visiting the grave of Carlotta Valdes (we later find out she committed suicide) and later spends hours in an art museum, staring at a painting of a woman almost identical to herself, entitled “Portrait of Carlotta.” The next day, Madeleine jumps into the San Francisco Bay, but Scottie saves her, takes her to his home and the two share a tender moment before she disappears into the night. Scottie later accompanies her on a day date, now fearful she might attempt suicide again, but still denying any paranormal aspect to the situation. Scottie and Madeleine kiss and profess for one another’s love just before she abruptly tares herself away from Scottie, runs up the bell tower and leaps to her death. Scottie, ashamed of the vertigo that disables him and his resulting inability to save her, he sinks further into depression and near madness. After a slow recovery, he wanders all the locations he and Madeleine had previously visited and occasionally, in his delusion, spots women he mistakes for his lost love. One day, Scottie spots a woman who looks remarkably like Madeleine and lost in obsession, he decides to take her out, change her make-up, her clothes and at one point, even her name; giving himself a second shot at having the woman for whom he’s pining.

The film’s title is analogous to Scottie’s spiraling decent into madness. The film feels like you’re moving downward, deeper into obsession, deeper into depression and deeper into the story’s web. Hitchcock, the film’s director, can do that – the kid had some promise. In fact, Hitchcock’s films are on the verge of taking over “AFI’s 10 Top 10” “mystery” list, with “Vertigo,” “Rear Window,” “North by Northwest” and “Dial M for Murder.” The hilly streets of San Francisco afford the perfect setting to symbolically illustrate Scottie’s decent, as one wrong turn, down the wrong street, could send our detective further into melancholia and rock bottom. One film critic has even pointed out that an overwhelming majority of parked cars in the background are all pointing downhill, possibly showing the pull of Scottie’s surrounding environment in that direction.  Early in the film, Scottie’s ex-girlfriend mentions that perhaps only another trauma could jog him out of his acrophobia, and the film’s climax forces Scottie to conquer his crippling fear of heights and the bell tower from which Madeleine jumped. This poses the dichotomous theory that a literal assent could hold the key to Scottie’s mental salvation.

Let there be light! A few aspect of this film prohibit it from being classified as absolute film-noir, but the greatest difference between “Vertigo” and any other detective story, including even the comedic “The Big Lebowski,” is the sheer amount of light allowed in each scene. I mean, the film takes place in San Francisco for Pete’s sake! There are a lot of really dark things being explored under throughout many beautiful days with bright sunshine and clear, blue skies. When this light is ripped away from us, we know it’s about to get real. One of the most horrifying scenes in movie history takes place at night, in Madeleine’s dark hotel room. With only the eerie light of the hotel’s green neon light spilling into the room form the window, Scottie allows his delusion to take over as the final stage of Madeleine’s transformation completes.

I don’t know how to best classify this movie into one, particular film genre; it’s a mystery, a psychological thriller, a drama, a detective story, a horror film, a love story ­­­­­– all Hitchcock. 

Searching for Sugar Man

This 85th Annual Academy Award Best Documentary Feature records the efforts of two fans from Cape Town, South Africa as they search for the truth about American musician, Sixto Rodriguez. Although his musical career went fairly unnoticed in America, his popularity soared in South African, and the two fans are determined to seek out the truth behind his mysterious life and rumored death.

This is one of the few, modern Best Documentary films that I have yet to get my hands on, and while stewing in my shame and frustration, I began to think about some of my favorite documentaries that were recently overlooked by the Academy.

“The Gatekeepers” is a 2012 documentary that revolves around a series of interviews with six former heads of the Shin Bet, Israel’s secretive intelligence/security service, with accompanying archival footage and reenactments. The director, Dror Moreh, said he found inspiration in Errol Morris’ “The Fog of War” (one of my favorites), and became determined to further investigate Israeli defense after his own feature about former Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. The film covers a lot of ground, including the agency’s inception, the Bus 300 affair, the Oslo Accords and meditations on more recent Shin Bet activities and impact. This film gives history and puts in context the enduring conflict between the state of Israel and Palestinians. This film is huge not only because of this once in a lifetime opportunity to hear, first-hand, from the former heads of the agency, but because it gives some insight into the inflexibility that engulfs this region, which is symbolic of the stubbornness that plagues the entire realm. 

“Exit through the Gift Shop,” was released in 2010. Directed by Banksy, it explores Thierry Guetta’s documentation and eventual obsession of street art and Banksy himself. Guetta fails in his attempt to finish a coherent documentary about street art, and Bansky picks up the pieces and turns the camera onto Guetta, as he blossoms into an artist, Mr. Brainwash, who directly immolates Banksy’s distinct style. This film left me in total awe as it showcased the very secretive world of street art, as wells as the efforts of the hopeless and unintentionally goofy artist, Guetta. However, some believe the film is scripted, with The New York Times even speculating that it might be the first "prankumentary." Regardless, the film is beyond entertaining. With quotes from Mr. Brainwash like, “I don't know how to play chess, but to me, life is like a game of chess,” how could you go wrong?

Also released in 2010, “Restrepo” documents a U.S. Army platoon of the 503rd Infantry Regiment, 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team during their station in the Korengal Valley of Afghanistan. The platoon’s mission is to abolish the Taliban insurgency, while holding and defending the observation post named after fallen Private First Class Juan Sebastián Restrepo. During the year-long deployment, in what the platoon refers to as "the deadliest place on Earth," the soldiers battle against insurgents, distrusting Afghani civilians and the burden of war. This is one of the most emotionally heavy and horrifying films I’ve ever seen. 

“Winnebago Man” premiered in 2009, and follows Ben Steinbauer’s effort to track down the origin of a viral video and the man nicknamed “the angriest man in the world,” Jack Rebney. Rebney is the star of a series of hilarious, obscenity-filled outtakes from a late-1980s Winnebago commercial/promotional video. After quite a bit of effort, the Internet phenom is tracked down in a serine, mountainous region of California. After several interviews and encounters at his home, the old and tirelessly irate man reveals himself to be an oddly thoughtful and articulate character, but still a bitter proponent of the Internet “fame” he has unwillingly acquired. Steinbauer spends most of the film trying to get to know the man behind the outbursts, while trying to convince him of the true joy that the worst day of his life has brought to his fans. This film’s ending does the impossible by unveiling the warmth of a medium (the Internet) that seems rot with pessimism.  

These four documentaries may not have won any Oscars, but they do represent our times well. These films blanket a breadth of topics and investigate integral components of society. “Exit through the Gift Shop” questions the validity of art, “Restrepo” reveals the horrors of war, “The Gatekeepers” investigates the history of deep-rooted animus in the Middle East and “Winnebago Man” glances at the light-hearted infatuation of all things contemporary in the West.

In the Heat of the Night

In this 40th Annual Academy Award Best Picture winner, directed by Norman Jewison, a black Philadelphian detective gets caught up in a murder investigation in the racist south. Virgil Tibbs, played by… well, they call him MISTER Poitier!, is mistaken for a criminal by Police Chief Bill Gillespie. He is then, through odd circumstances, asked to stick around and partner-up with Gillespie. The two don’t exactly hit it off immediately, but slowly overcome their prejudices as their respect for one another grows. Like Poitier’s other two films that year, “To Sir, with Love” and “Guess Who's Coming to Dinner,” this movie is fueled by the racial tension it explores. 

However, another film was released in 1967, and it deserves another look. “The Graduate” stars Dustin Hoffman as a recent college graduate, Benjamin Braddock; Anne Bancroft as a seductive older woman, Mrs. Robinson; and Katharine Ross as Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine. Benjamin returns from college to his white-collar family’s home in California with no sense of direction and uneasiness of the uncertainness of his future. After being forced to bear his parents’ coordinated graduation party and an onslaught of congratulatory cheek-pinches and unsolicited pieces of career advice like, “I just want to say one word to you. Just one word… Are you listening?  …’plastics,’” he is asked to give Mrs. Robinson a lift home. Once at Mrs. Robinson’s house, she insists that he accompanies her inside and then in a quite forward and almost desperate act of “seduction,” strips down and throws out an open invitation. The two spend the rest of the summer in hotel rooms, and between visits, Benjamin lounges around poolside or in front of the television as the realization that something might be missing from his life slowly begins to dawn on him.

This film has a lot going on, and Director Mike Nichols is to thank for much of it. His film was ranked as high as 7 on American Film Institute’s “100 Years…100 Movies” series. He brought a level of passion to the film that went way beyond normal directing duties. For example, he felt so strongly about the music in the film, he battled producers and sacrificed his first casting choice for Mrs. Robinson, Doris Day, in order to secure that the music of Simon and Garfunkel remain dominant in the film. 

From a technical standpoint, Nichols owned it. He utilized a long telescopic lens and straight-on camera angle during the film’s climax to create the optical illusion that Benjamin wasn’t gaining ground during his sprint toward Elaine’s wedding. This served as a brilliant metaphor for everything that had come before in Benjamin’s journey. Throughout the film, camera angles are used to counter audience expectations. Imagery of Benjamin being submerged in water helps communicate his overwhelmed and static state. “I knew that Mike Nichols was a young director who went in for a lot of camera. In fact, I told my operator and my assistants, 'You fellows be prepared because you’re going to do some way-out shots,’” said Cinematographer Robert Surtees.  For one shot, involving Benjamin jumping into a swimming pool in full scuba gear, a special cameraman was hired and forced to rehearse for two days. Influenced by European filmmakers, Surtees and the “New Hollywood” director envisioned the look of the film as more “art-house” than “Oscar-nominated,” (though he would win Best Director for the film) as they rewrote the book on cinematography.

Another strongpoint is the film’s cast. In an odd way, Mel Brooks actually played a key role in this. Nichols had exhausted Hollywood’s cache of available leading men and things were beginning to seem hopeless. In the original novel, Benjamin is described as a tall blue-eyed, blond-haired WASP. Nichols was more interested in finding an underdog than a track star. Here’s part of conversation between Nichols and Robert Redford during the casting process: "Well, let's put it this way - have you ever struck out with a girl?” asked Nichols." "What do you mean?" responded Redford. "That's precisely my point," said Nichols.

Hoffman was trepidatious about moving away from New York’s Off-Broadway theatre world. “I’m immediately feeling miserable,” he said. “I just have bad feelings about the whole thing. This is not the part for me. I’m not supposed to be in movies.” However, he had been wooed into film by Brooks and the script to “The Producers.” Brooks was familiar with “The Graduate” as his wife, the already-cast Bancroft, had been reading it quite a bit around the house. Brooks saw no harm in letting Hoffman go out to L.A. to screen-test because he was sure Hoffman didn’t stand a chance in hell. Hoffman auditioned and would later refer to the entire experience as “a Jewish nightmare.” When the screen-test concluded, Hoffman went around shaking hands and thanking the crew. When he got to the propman, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and spilled New York subway tokens all over the floor. They both dropped to pick them up, and the propman handed over his share and said, “Here, kid. You’re going to need these.” But Hoffman’s nervousness and awkwardness was just what Nichols was looking for. 

"So old Elaine Robinson got started in a Ford."

My favorite aspect of the movie is the music. “The Graduate” is the film that shaped how modern films utilize pop music. Before 1967, films would either solely use an originally composed score or record a song for the film, and then release it for radio play. The film includes "The Sounds of Silence," "Scarborough Fair,” "Mrs. Robinson," "The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine" and "April Come She Will." Paul Simon was originally reluctant about contributing to the film, but eventually presented a song, “Mrs. Roosvelt” (about Eleanor Roosevelt), that would become the classic “Mrs. Robinson."  

Photo by Richard Avedon.

“April Come She Will” is one of my all time favorites. In it, we hear the changing of the seasons; feel the weight of age and the loss of time. With only acoustic guitar and a single voice, the song isn’t simple, but direct. Like the montage it scores, it summarizes a dichotomy of love and simultaneous emptiness. During the montage, Benjamin walks in and out of each day of his affair with Mrs. Robinson, but with each new shot of Benjamin, something more is lost behind his eyes. That look of loss might be his draining complacency. That scene drew me into the story and helped make a film that could be misconstrued as just a light-hearted bedroom romp, into a real look at the stalemate that can consume a young man with no direction. I was that guy for a long time. I was that guy through most of my twenties. There was a period in my life when I watched “The Graduate” once a week. Some scenes made me giggle uncontrollably; others felt like they were out of a horror film. I’m now five weeks away from graduating and standing at monumental crossroads in my life, and I watched this film again for the first time since attending college. I’m still laughing at the more comical scenes, and cringing at others. Some films wear their release date on their sleeve; some find and explore themes that are universal. For me, “The Graduate” passes the test of time.  

Oscar Pool 2013 pt.2

Throughout the entire Oscar broadcast, Josh continually checked his phone and giggled while reading his favorite comedians tweet their thoughts on the spectacle of the celebration. 

In a rare moment, there was a tie in the Best Sound Editing category. A collective gasp rolled in from the audience as Mark Whalberg assured everyone it wasn’t a gag. “No BS,” he said.

Adam “MCA” Yauch and Nora Ephron were two of the very few who elicited an audible applause during the memoriam montage that honored well known, and some not-so well known, contributors to modern and classic cinema.

Quentin Tarantino took home the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. “Yeah I know. I know. I’m getting off,” he said as the music began to play… “Peace out.” 

The night’s first standing ovation went to Ang Lee when he won Best Director for “Life of Pi. “Thank you movie God,” he began. Our room exploded after this Spielberg-upset.  Toward the end of his speech, Lee thanked his lawyer and got some hearty laughs from the crowd. “I have to do that,” he said.

Jennifer Lawrence won Best Actress for her performance in “Silver Linings Playbook.” She had a misstep on her way up the stage, but shrugged it off pretty well with, “You guys are just standing up because you feel bad that I fell and that’s really embarrassing, but thank you.” 

I’m kicking your guys’ asses,” Josh humbly reminded us, checking off his fifteenth correct win.

Daniel Day-Lewis became the first actor to win three Best Actor awards. “Greatest actor of all time - you can safely say that now,” Josh said. Lewis referred to his fellow nominees as “betters” and thanked his wife for living with numerous, different men (his characters... I'm guessing) over the years.

Michelle Obama made a video feed appearance to introduce the Best Picture category, before handing it back to Jack Nicholson. “And the Oscar goes to... ‘Argo,’” he said with his classic grin.

And the director of “Argo,” Ben Affleck kept it classy with a great speech that not only looked back on his win for “Good Will Hunting,” but gave props to Canada.

Photobomb by Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Overall, I really like this year’s Academy Awards. So often, one film sweeps or at least wins several of the major awards. This year, the major awards were pretty evenly dispersed among all the major nominees: “Argo,” “Life of Pi,” “Lincoln,” “Django Unchained” and “Les Miserables” were all pretty equally recognized. 

“I liked it, Josh said. “He did a good job (referring to MacFarlane’s hosting duty execution). Last couple years have been super boring.”

Garrett came in fourth with 5 wins on his ballot, Annie came in third with 8 wins, I came in second with 10 and Josh took home the gold with 17… but he cheated.

I had a great night. I began this blog thinking I would focus on awards in general, but I‘ve found myself gravitating back to the Academy Awards. I don’t hold a grudge against the Oscars or the Academy’s voting trends. It might seem like I do, but I truly love this celebration of creativity. I don’t see it as an entire community giving each other shoulder massages. I see it as an encouraging pat on the back to those who truly love creating and sharing their work. Of course there’s a degree of overindulgence, but there’s a lot of love too. These people love what they do, and I find that inspiring. 

Oscar Pool 2013 pt.1

The 5th Annual J&A Oscar Party started before anyone arrived at Josh and Annie’s house this Feb. 24, with Josh frantically cleaning the living room while preparing brats and mets for the grill. And to be clear, it’s actually more of a get-together than a full-blown party – just a few friends and few dollars in the pot (reserved for the winner of the pool). This year, it was just Josh, his wife Annie, Garret and myself. Unfortunately one of our best friends, Eric, couldn’t make it due to a last minute family obligation. But he texted in his ballot picks and wished us a fun night.

The night started off with some light drama, when Annie found out that Josh had been doing some online research before filling out his Oscar ballot.

“Alright, well I’m not going to cheat – I’m just going to choose,” Annie said while putting her laptop away and picking up her ballot sheet.
"I didn’t cheat! That’s not cheating,” shot back Josh.

While E! Channel correspondents went back and forth, “oohing” and “aahing” over the nominees’ designer choices, we had a few beers, laughed and debated the Academy’s nominations.


(from left to right) Garrett, Josh and Annie

“Damn. I haven’t seen the rest of these, said Garrett, examining his ballot.
“How many have you filled out so far?,” I asked.
“…One.” We all laughed, and Garrett, glancing up at the clock said, “20 minutes. I’m going to need the rest of that to finish this.”

And then the curtain rose. “Welcome to the Oscars! And the quest to make Tommy Lee Jones laugh begins now,” said the host, Seth MacFarlane, as he kicked off the 85th Academy Awards.

The first award of the night was a bit of a surprise as the Best Supporting Actor award went to Christoph Waltz for “Django Unchained.” Waltz gave an eloquent and humbled acceptance speech as usual and even quoted his character before acknowledging his fellow nominees and Quentin Tarrantino. Josh and I, who pride ourselves on being the big movie-lovers in the group, struck out. Josh picked Tommy Lee Jones in “Lincoln,” and I picked Alan Arkin in “Argo.” We had immediately fallen behind to Annie and Garrett.

The first time the music queued to play off a long-running acceptance speech, we all laughed at the same time, recognizing the melody at the same time as the “Jaws” theme. The winner had just said, “I urge you to remember…” and then was cut off. We spent the next five minutes complaining about how the vindication of this man’s work over the past year was just cut short in lieu of a ten second Diet Coke spot.

About an hour in, Josh’s mother-in-law Tweeted, “Oscars  so far - LAME.” This sparked a quick debate over the best Oscar host of all time.” I thought Chris Rock did a great job,” I said. “I like Billy Crystal… the old ones were more entertaining,” retorted Garrett. And Josh facetiously added, “What about James Franco?” He then added, “He was high the whole time! It was interesting watching how uninterested he was.”

To be continued...

Dances with Wolves

In this 63rd Annual Academy Award Best Picture winner, starring and directed by Kevin Costner, First Lieutenant John J. Dunbar volunteers to solitarily man a post, Ft. Sedgwick, in the western frontier after recovering from a leg injury he suffered during the American Civil War. While there, Dunbar eventually gains the trust of a nearby Native American tribe, the Sioux, who begin to share their language and customs with him after he helps an injured tribe member, tracks down migrating buffalo and dances with... you guessed it.

However, another film was released in 1990, and it deserves another look. “Goodfellas,” directed By Martin Scorsese, focuses on three mafia members, played by Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro, as they struggle through what would become the film’s tagline, “three decades of life in the mafia.” The film is based on the true story of Henry Hill, played by Liotta, who is adopted into a crew as a boy and grows up to become an integral member of a powerful New York City Cosa Nostra. As his criminal resume builds, so does his risk - especially after the Lufthansa heist, a $5 million robbery at John F. Kennedy International Airport in 1978. 

From a technical standpoint, this film is Scorsese’s greatest achievement since “Raging Bull.” The legendary Saul Bass designed the opening title sequence. The film is narrated by Liotta, as Hill. However, we also hear Karen, played by Bracco, in dual narration. Scorsese builds upon this even further in “Casino” by adding a third narrator (one who gets killed no less). Another nontraditional choice Scorsese makes is to pause the film at certain points, like inserting still photographs to suspend moments and add suspense. And of course, there’s “the long take.” This 3 minute, eleven second tracking shot follows Liotta and Bracco through the bowels of the Copacabana on their first date. "Then He Kissed Me" by The Crystals blare as the two take the back entrance, exposing the hustling, dirty kitchen in a moment of foreshadowing that mirrors the equally chaotic underworld that Bracco’s character, Karen, is unknowingly stepping into. She is taken aback by the glitz and disregards the grime. And to wrap it all up, the last “shot” in the film pays homage to the classic, last “shot” in the 1903 Western, “The Great Train Robbery.”

"Didn't matter. It didn't mean anything... We ran everything. We paid off cops. We paid off lawyers. We paid off judges. Everybody had their hands out. Everything was for the taking. And now it's all over."

Another skill that Scorsese possesses is his remarkable and often surprising use of music. In “Goodfellas,” Scorsese pushes the plot forward, invokes emotion and gives insight into the characters through pop music. Tony Bennett’s “Rags to Riches” sets the tone in the opening credits. Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” signals De Niro’s decision to whack Morrie. Robbie Vinton lip syncs his father’s, Bobby Vinton, tune “Roses are Red” in the Copacabana. The beauty of the piano exit in Derek and the Dominos’ “Layla” stands in horrifying juxtaposition to Pesci’s murderous rampage. The Rolling Stones are heard, as they often are in Scorsese’s gangster films. And Sid Vicious sings us out with his rendition of “My Way,” popularized by Frank Sinatra. This last piece brings closure to the film and Hill’s life as a gangster (Sinatra’s version was later reported by “the Guardian” to be the most popular pop song played at British funerals). 

This movie has tons of acting talent: DeNiro, Pesci, future Sopranos’ players Lorraine Bracco and Michael Imperioli, a cameo by Samuel L. Jackson, and of course Paul Sorvino. Liotta gives a career-defining performance as our protagonist, but he is not the main character. The main player in this film is the city of New York itself.  The dialogue and demeanor of the characters hailing from the various Burroughs is distinct and stylized. The sounds and hustling background noise of the city adds to the hectic, chaos of the plot. These kinds of elements seep into the film, and Scorsese is able to capture and utilize them not as elements of the background, but as an interactive component of the story.

“Goodfellas” means a lot to me for a lot of reasons. Although I was rather young when I first saw it, it immediately struck me as something wholly original and intriguing. I immediately began looking at movies differently. After “Goodfellas,” I became more aware of what I was watching and began to view film as an artistic medium, and not just simple entertainment.  In my eyes, Scorsese is America's greatest living director.

"For a second I thought I was dead. But, when I heard all the noise, I knew they were cops. Only cops talk that way. If they'd been wiseguys, I wouldn't have heard a thing. I would've been dead."

Ben Affleck

…well actually, no it didn't. Of course it didn't; the 85^th Academy Awards haven't even commenced yet. However, the nominees have been announced, and one name (Mr. Affleck’s) didn’t get called. But I’m sure he’ll be in attendance as his film, "Argo," is nominated for Best Picture. On Feb. 24, Affleck will have to sit on the Oscar sidelines with fellow snubbed and possibly equally confused un-nominated directors: Kathryn Bigelow, Tom Hooper and Quentin Tarantino.

Illustration by Concepción Studios.

The Oscars are almost set up to invoke controversy. With twice as many Best Picture spots as Best Director spots, someone’s bound to be left out. It gives movie lovers something to talk about, it’s good for publicity and no news is bad news. Just like no blogs are bad blogs - don’t think about that last sentence, just keep reading. 

This year, the Best Director category includes Michael Haneke for "Amour," Benh Zeitlin for "Beasts of the Southern Wild," Ang Lee for "Life of Pi," David O. Russell for "Silver Linings Playbook" and Steven Spielberg for "Lincoln." The big guns here are Lee, Russell and Spielberg. And all three have done amazing work this year. Lee helms the tale of a young, shipwrecked man who is forced to share a small boat with a Bengal tiger, Russell directs the story of two troubled outsiders who find hope with each other after striking an odd deal, and Spielberg tries to make us forget about “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.”

It’s a bit harder to poke fun at Affleck’s directing resume. True, the odds are with him with a shorter filmography than someone like Spielberg, but still, he’s no one hit wonder. His directorial debut, "Gone Baby Gone" and his follow-up, "The Town" both scored 94 percent on Rotten Tomatoes. "Argo," which has hit 96 percent on the Tomatometer, is based on the true story of the CIA’s attempt to extract hostages from a post-revolution, Khomeini-led Iran.  At this year’s Golden Globes, Tina Fey joked, “Ben’s first two movies took place in Boston, but he moved this one to Iran because he wanted to film somewhere that was friendlier to outsiders.”

Getty Images

So far this award season, "Argo" has done fairly well for itself. The film has won Best Picture or Best Film from the AFI Awards, the BAFTA Awards, the Golden Globes, the Florida Film Critics Circle Awards, and the San Diego Film Critics Society Awards. The ensemble cast, Alan Arkin, editing, score, screenplay and set design have all been shown appreciation from critics and awards. Ben Affleck won the Best Director award from the Golden Globes, the Australian Film Institute, BAFTA Awards, Broadcast Film Critics Association Awards, Florida Film Critics Circle Awards, and a Special Achievement in Filmmaking Award from the National Board of Review. Winning Best Director at the Globes without an Academy Award nomination seemed oddest of all, as it often seen as a bit of a precursor of what can be expected on Oscar night. During his acceptance speech at the Critics Choice Movie Awards, Affleck said, "I would like to thank the Academy... I'm kidding, I'm kidding. This is the one that counts."

And it’s not like the Academy has any prejudice against actors-turned-directors. Robert Redford, Kevin Costner, Clint Eastwood and Ron Howard have proven that unequivocally. This year, "Argo" has been nominated for Best Picture. The film has been deemed worthy of that consideration, so where’s the love for the film’s creator? I don’t think it’s the political aspect of this story, I don’t think it’s the slight tinkering of history within this story, and I certainly don’t think it’s the precision in which this story is told. 

It looks like Affleck is going to have to sit this one out, but some have brought up the point that a nomination could be secured at the zero hour via a write-in vote. In 1935, Hal Mohr, cinematographer for "A Midsummer's Night Dream," became the first and last person to win an Oscar by these means. The concept of allowing a write-in vote has now nearly been all but forgotten by the Academy. But the way things are looking for Affleck, I think Bryan Cranston’s character in "Argo" said it best - “this is the best bad idea we have, sir… by far.”

Affleck as Tony Mendez - Photo by Keith Bernstein

Patton

This 43^rd Annual Academy Award Best Picture winner follows US Army General George S. Patton, played by George C. Scott, through his controversial, but ultimately praised World War II career. As a tank commander, Patton works his way from North Africa to the war’s end in Europe, earning fear from the Axis and resentment from the Allies. His ability to fulfill what he believes to be his destiny is jeopardized after a temper-fueled incident forces him out of lead command during the Normandy Invasion.

However, another film was released in 1970, and it deserves another look. “Five Easy Pieces,” directed by Bob Rafelson, stars Jack Nicholson as Bobby Dupea, a rebellious and well-educated wanderer who gave up a possible career as a concert pianist and is currnenlty working on an oil-rig in California. He lives with, but isn’t really attached to his ditzy, good-hearted girlfriend, played by Karen Black. When Bobby gets word that his father has taken a turn for the worse, he is forced to return to his home and the commune of upper-class family members that live and study music there. This change in his day-to-day affords him yet another excuse to pull out of his current situation in life and begin pursuing a new path. As he spends more and more time back home, he is forced to face his father and family, as well as his life’s decisions and failures. With this exposure, Bobby subconsciously gives himself an ultimatum to either continue running from himself and situations or to find stability and connection with others.

If you watch the film counting how many times Bobby presents his “skills” as a pianist, hoping he’ll hit number five before the credits roll, you’re in for a disappointment. His pieces are internal and barely add up to create the portrait of a full man. He is a fractured soul, broken by years of disappointment, anger and emotional solitude. Each of these five pieces holds its own contradiction: a man who would violently push away an excited girlfriend, only to bark back at a stranger in her defense; a man who breaks his back working in an oil field, only to turn around and insult his friend and coworker with, “It's ridiculous. I'm sitting here listening to some cracker a--hole, lives in a trailer park, compare his life to mine." As we are gradually introduced to the different pieces of Bobby, we become more and more confused. In our confusion, we are closest to fully understanding him. This puts us right in his shoes. We are lost.

Most character-study films let their protagonist drive the plot forward from the norm, through the interruption of the status-quo, and finally toward the resolution. But there is no normalcy to be found in Bobby’s life. And Bobby ain’t at the wheel. This film’s plot spins around its protagonist, and he seems increasingly aware of that lack of control, but is still unable or unwilling to do anything about it.

Apart from this film, only two other movies held scenes that have forced me to tears. The first being Tom Hanks losing his volleyball in “Cast Away,” and the second being Bill Murray’s Dali Lama speech in “Caddyshack.” The first struck an unexpected and horrifying chord regarding loss, loneliness and trepidation in the face of the great unknown. The latter found dark humor and randomness in delusion.  Bobby’s journey through “Five Easy Pieces” hits all of these notes, simultaneously. 

There are two deafening moments at this film’s end: the silence of Bobby’s glare into a gas station's bathroom mirror, and the roar of a departing semi truck. And the last words we hear are of Bobby whispering to himself, in what could be assumed to be a lifelong mantra that only helps to aid his detached, distanced submission to the spiraling world around him, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine…”

This film looks forward, in style and substance, just when American cinema needed it the most. Looking back, especially in an effort to understand and expose ourselves to the horrors and triumphs of the Second World War, is an admirable and valued endeavor. “Patton” does this excellently. But America wasn’t in the midst of a particularly admirable or valued war in 1970. Cinematic expression was about to explode in a mainly independently-funded blitzkrieg of uncompromising, intimate, experimental, and sometimes exploitive expression of American culture. 

It was a decade that birthed “The Godfather,” “The Deer Hunter,” “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and “Taxi Driver.” “Five Easy Pieces” knew the score and helped get the ball rolling. It shows the desolation of a man stuck in time, but symbolizes the momentum that would become 70s cinema.