“Let me get this straight. The one’s about a precocious computer geek who’s also a bit of an asshole.”
“Yeah.”
“And the other’s about King George VI.”
“Yeah.”
“And King George VI has a disability.”
“Well, he has a stutter. I mean, it’s not crippling or anything — ”
“But it’s an obstacle that needs to be overcome.”
“Yeah.”
“And I assume, at the end, he does. And becomes King.”
“Tailored largely for the international audience for whom the internal politics of the Royal Family seem never to lose their mystique or fascination,” I wrote in my October review of “The King’s Speech.”
I guess I have to take that back, since the film — which only opened on Friday in its home country — has become a genuine UK box-office phenomenon, as opposed to the specialized success it’s been across the pond.
The film handily knocked “Gulliver’s Travels” off the #1 spot (bleak times, these) with a weekend gross of £3.52 million. (That’s about $5.5 million, if you like your figures translated, though it goes with saying that UK and US numbers are not comparable.) To put that in context, that’s over four times what another royal-themed prestige drama, “The Queen,” made on only slightly fewer screens back in the autumn of 2006.
Catch up with the idea behind this series here.
Welcome to the final entry in the Life Without Oscar series. Why call it a day with one, possibly two years left to consider? Well, for one thing, we won’t know which films are going to be snubbed from 2010 for another two weeks (although I’ll bet my house and home that the titles I’d be writing about have no chance). Instead, next week I’ll offer up my Best of 2010 wrap-up, which will be my last scheduled contribution to the InContention site.
It’s been fun, marveling at the box office performance of “Avatar” together, trying to convince you to watch “Pootie Tang,” and generally engaging in debates through the comments. But we’re not done yet, so let’s keep things moving here.
“No Country for Old Men” won Best Picture in 2007, in my opinion, the only respectable choice of the decade by the Academy. Then they had to follow it up with “Slumdog Millionaire,” a film that I couldn’t possibly hate more. Of course, more newsworthy among the blogging world was the Best Picture snub of “The Dark Knight,” and the possibly related fact that these would be the last Oscars to feature only 5 Best Picture nominees.
Also, we decided that “I’ve taken like three pregnancy tests, and I’m forshizz up the spout” was dialogue from the best written movie of 2007. But speaking of best lines, Janusz Kaminski might have my favorite Oscar quip ever while becoming the first cinematographer to present an award- “Suck it, Anthony Dod Mantle.”
[Updated Oscar predictions here.]
Hey, have you heard of this movie called “The Social Network?” You should probably check it out. It’s about Facebook and stuff and it’s supposed to be really good. So good, in fact, that it’s managed to tame the single most argumentative species in the animal kigdom, The Lesser Spotted Film Critic, into silent agreement. Of the 12 American critics’ groups to dish out awards so far, 11 have given their top honor to the film. (“Winter’s Bone,” you say? Get with the program, San Diego.)
The enthusiasm for the film, of course, extends beyond the sometimes soundproof critics’ chamber, as less distinguished media collectives like the HFPA and the BFCA have voiced their approval – while this morning, give or take a Supporting Actor snub, the film passed its first industry award test with two key Screen Actors’ Guild bids. Expect the Directors’, Producers’, Writers’ and Editors’ Guilds to follow suit in the New Year.
So, we can basically tie a ribbon around Oscar’s neck and hand him over to Scott Rudin and David Fincher now, can’t we? After all, against all its on-paper disadvantages, “The Hurt Locker” was in a similar position this time last year, and it didn’t budge, did it? (Indeed, it didn’t even unite the critics’ groups to this extent – of the 12 awarding bodies I mentioned above, only five selected Kathryn Bigelow’s Iraq actioner last year.) Scarcely anyone has a word to say against the film, so let’s sit back and let the sweep wash over us, right?
“You’re the Oscar guys, aren’t you?” asked the spike-heeled PR officer upon eyeing the press badge dangling from my neck, her voice exuding the steely sweetness they teach you on the first day of public relations boot camp. It was midway through the Venice Film Festival and I was too beat — or my mouth just too full of complimentary cheese — to rephrase her blunt description. I nodded in reply: yes, I am indeed “the Oscar guys.” One of them, at any rate.
“Thought so,” she said, eyes darting across the room, perhaps in search of my chart-brandishing entourage. “Not much for you here, is there?”
On the one hand, I could hardly argue, not least since we’d both just emerged from a film — Chilean auteur Pablo Larrain’s brilliant nightmare of a black comedy “Post Mortem” — that stands as much chance of securing an invitation to the Kodak Theater as Kim Kardashian does to the Kennedy Center Honors.
Five days into the festival, and the only film screened that belonged in the Oscar conversation (following the critical belly-flop of Julian Schnabel’s “Miral,” at least) was high-gloss opener “Black Swan,” and even that was generating “too cool for the Academy” conclusions. Oscar-watching at European festivals, even blogger-inundated Cannes, is a pretty spotty sport compared to the FYC frenzy of Telluride and Toronto.
So this is Oscar. And what have you done?
Speaking for myself, lately, not a hell of a lot. In the three weeks that this column has been on hiatus – apologies to the handful of you who missed it – it’s remarkable how little the O-word has been on my mind.
Yes, I’ve been busy: a trip to the Berlinale here, a stretch of scriptwriting there, the occasional interference of an actual personal life in between. But even if I hadn’t been, and even if the estimable Nathaniel Rogers hadn’t borrowed most of my remaining awards-talk energy for his Oscar Symposium, I doubt I would have found much that was fresh or consequential to fill this space.
I’m not alone. In an awkwardly scheduled season that saw the most crucial precursors announced before Oscar nomination day, and nary a shift in the frontrunners since, Phase Two of the season has amounted to little more than a month of journalistic thumb-twiddling, while most of the nominees wearily float above it all. Remember when the Oscars took place in late March, or even April? Today’s surfeit of Oscar bloggers would have died in wait.
It’s almost enough to make you admire the brazen transparency with which the L.A. Times attempted to drum up drama in the latter stages of voting, rather like a cranky toddler, bored of behaving himself at the supermarket, throwing a tantrum in the checkout line.
As the music world celebrated the general awesomeness that is Taylor Swift last night, Oscar-minded Hollywood couldn’t resist infringing on the proceedings slightly. When Jeff Bridges even crops up at the Grammy Awards (to introduce a Les Paul tribute), you just know that he’s this year’s chosen one.
Bridges at least acquitted himself with dignity, something that sadly couldn’t be said for another Oscar hopeful, Quentin Tarantino, who came dressed (to steal blatantly from Joe Reid) as “Retired in Miami Elvis” and pimped his movie in a hopped-up intro to a Lil’ Wayne performance. To be fair, however, he was present as a nominee, though “Inglourious Basterds” lost the Best Compilation Soundtrack award to “Slumdog Millionaire.”
Yes, last year’s Oscar champ isn’t done winning awards yet, as “Jai Ho” also beat Bruce Springsteen and Karen O to the Best Film/TV Song award.
Yesterday, while talking with one of my sane friends whose thoughts drift to film awards perhaps one day a year, the conversation turned to the BAFTAs, which announce the nominations for their 2009 film awards tomorrow.
“The BAFTAs, they’re like the Oscars for British films, right?” she asked.
“Not quite,” I replied. “They’re open to all films.”
“But the British films always win, right?”
“No, not always.” I stared into my pint. “Well, a lot of the time, yeah.”
“Why not just make them for British films, then?”
“Because they want to be like the Oscars.”
“So why do they keep rewarding the Brits?”
The conversation could have circled this way for some time, but fortunately, it was time for another round – and by the time I returned from the bar, the topic had shifted to Pat Robertson.
My friend’s innocent but pertinent questions only grazed the surface of the peculiar identity crisis suffered by the BAFTA Awards, a longstanding institution, kindly regarded by many, that only joined the pack of Oscar precursors nine years ago. Since they did so, it’s become increasingly difficult to ascertain who they are, what they stand for in awards season.
• Searching for meaning in Robert Downey Jr’s Stark-esque Globes beard. Perhaps too much meaning. [CHUD]
• Roger Ebert dives back into the enigma of Michael Haneke’s “Cache.” [Chicago Sun-Times]
• Stretching to compare “Avatar” to “Slumdog Millionaire” because of it’s “out of the blue” success. [24 Frames]
(UPDATE: Due to an error on the EFA’s own website, we initially reported that the technical Prix d’Excellence had been awarded to “Vincere.” This is incorrect: the sound design team behind “A Prophet” took the prize.)
Foreign-language Oscar favorites “The White Ribbon” and “A Prophet” have been locked in something of an awards duel since May, when they took the top two prizes at Cannes.
However, while the latter film has been hogging the spotlight of late — pipping “Ribbon” to the post at the London Film Festival, the NBR Awards and even the Spirit noms — Michael Haneke’s Palme d’Or winner clawed back some momentum at tonight’s European Film Awards, taking the top three prizes for Best Film, Director and Screenwriter.
“A Prophet,” which entered the race as the most-nominated contender, had to be content with a well-deserved Best Actor award for sensational newcomer Tahar Rahim, as well as the technical Prix d’Excellence for its sound team.
For all the movement in the awards game this week – Jeff Bridges leap-frogging into contention, the animation race swelling to five nominees, “Precious” continuing to gather momentum – my head hasn’t really been in it this week.
That’s partly because we’re all still making blind prognoses until four unseen juggernauts – “Nine,” “Avatar,” “The Lovely Bones,” and “Invictus” – finally deign to show their faces. And partly because I’m only looking forward to one of those titles with sincere movie-fan enthusiasm, as opposed to professional curiosity. Sometimes you just get the wholly subjective feeling that it isn’t going to be ‘your’ Oscar season – and while I’m not there yet, the fear is setting in.
So, with no current awards developments getting me particularly enthralled or incensed, I’ve spent most of my time lately in a reflective state. With ‘best of the 2000s’ lists already coming thick and fast, and my DVD trawl through the decade’s leftovers for my own list in full swing, Oscar’s own performance over the last 10 years has been on my mind.
As I discussed in this space a few weeks ago, it’s been a slightly schizophrenic decade of Oscar winners, one that has blurred long-held definitions of “Oscar-bait.” One does have to wonder about the identity or cultural relevance of any group that can alternately celebrate such disparate achievements as “Slumdog Millionaire,” “Gladiator” and “No Country for Old Men.” Who are these people, and what do they know?
Seeing as Kris was (delete as appropriate) brave/stupid/psychic/smart enough to predict who will win the Oscars four months ahead of the ceremony (and three weeks earlier than he did last year), I figured I’d follow up, as I did last year, with my own foolhardy guesses too.
Last year, Kris kicked my ass at this particular game, correctly guessing 13 out 21 categories, and forecasting “Slumdog” fever while I was still on the “Milk” train. (Ironically, the lone “Slumdog Millionaire” win I predicted — Best Song — was one Kris missed.) For my part, I called wins for Sean Penn and Kate Winslet (for the wrong film, of course) … though that hardly qualifies as visionary, does it?
This year, however, we are of a like mind in most of the top categories, though we part ways considerably further down the list. If you’re looking to take any of our predictions to the bank, stick with Kris. But, you know, a different perspective never hurt anyone.
My best (or worst) guesses after the cut, followed by your collective prediction culled from yesterday’s comment thread.
From the moment it was commissioned, this was intended STRICTLY as a “defined the decade” list, regardless of qualitative considerations. Go back and re-read it in that light, recover from the horror of “Saw” and “Mamma Mia!”’s inclusion (Guy’s right to single these out, but they aren’t the only ones: I personally loathe “Slumdog”, for instance) and I hope it then makes a little more sense.
Though I’d much rather have been allowed to submit a list of personal favourites (and will probably follow up with one, on my blog, which will include all of about ten films from the current list), this Telegraph one was put together purely with an emphasis on importance/cultural impact, not critical preference.
Regular reader and Telegraph critic Tim Robey clarifies the intent of that surprising ‘Top 100 films of the decade’ list that got some of you fired up earlier this week.
Is “A Prophet” gradually stealing awards-season momentum from “The White Ribbon?” (It’s the superior film, if you ask me.) Too soon to say, of course, but it certainly came out on top in this morning’s European Film Award nominations.
Jacques Audiard’s searing chronicle of French prison gangs leads the field with six nominations, to four for Michael Haneke’s German Palme d’Or winner. The two films, seen by many pundits as the chief contenders for the foreign-language Oscar, also appear to be the frontrunners here, continuing a rivalry that started way back in May at Cannes.
Also beating “Ribbon”‘s total, with five nods (six, if you include the People’s Choice Award), is “Slumdog Millionaire,” which didn’t make last year’s cut-off date. The film’s popularity clearly still lingers (to the point that it even eked out a Best Actor nod for Dev Patel, ahead of, say, Michael Fassbender), though I sense its moment has passed.
(More discussion, and a full list of nominees, after the cut.)
• Gregory Ellwood slams “Everybody’s Fine,” calls last night’s AFI festivities a Miramax wake. I’m having trouble disagreeing with him. [Awards Campaign]
• Rebecca Milzoff gets some face time with “An Education” director Lone Scherfig. [Vulture]
• Jim Carrey’s Scrooge rings in the holiday spirit. [Associated Press]
“God, that thing’s just going to shit Academy Awards out of its ass next year, isn’t it?,” I overheard a journo behind me remark to his companion, as I made my way out of the “Up in the Air” press screening on Sunday. “It’s such an Oscar movie.”
Two things struck me as interesting about this throwaway remark, both relating to the lack of care with which both Oscar pundits and “serious” film lovers tend to regard the Academy Awards.
The first was that, isolated and in print, the guy’s words appear dismissive of “Up in the Air,” yet they actually capped a mostly enthusiastic response to the film. His tone dipped almost apologetically as he applied the “Oscar movie” label, as if it somehow sullied an otherwise fine effort.
More to the point, however, the remark seemed indicative of the transitive stage the Academy Awards seem to be in at the moment, as simultaneously resistant and vulnerable to industry change as the protagonist of Jason Reitman’s film – and facing a similar crisis of purpose. For 15 years ago – if not necessarily 15 years before that – “Up in the Air” wouldn’t have been decreed an “Oscar movie” at all.
You’d be hard pressed to disagree that Alexandre Desplat is pretty much at the top of the game in contemporary film scoring. In addition to his genius (“Birth” looks likely to remain my favorite score of the decade), his prolificity is awe-inspiring. This year alone sees the Frenchman’s name on seven features, running the gamut from “Julie & Julia” to “A Prophet” to “Fantastic Mr. Fox” to the latest “Twilight” installment.
He seems bound to figure in the awards race for one film or another (“Cheri” would be my personal pick so far), so it’s a nice — if not terribly prescient — omen that he just won Composer of the Year at the 9th annual World Soundtrack Awards yesterday, as well as score of the year for his Oscar-nominated work on “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.”
It’s a 2008-leaning list, with “Slumdog Millionaire” and “The Reader” also resurfacing, though a Lifetime Achievement Award for Marvin Hamlisch is clearly a nod to “The Informant!”
The awards, handed out by the World Soundtrack Academy in Ghent, Belgium, an educational organization dedicated to the art of film music, don’t carry much weight to speak of, but since we’re having a day of small awards announcements, it’s a fun list of winners to add to the pile. Full list after the cut.
When the Academy Awards roll around in March, it will have been precisely two decades since the unlikely figure of Kim Basinger blasted Academy voters’ conservatism on air at the 1989 ceremony, with specific regard to their sidelining of “Do the Right Thing,” Spike Lee’s groundbreaking study of urban interracial tension.
“We’ve got five great films here, and they’re great for one reason – they tell the truth,” the star opined before presenting a clip from one of that year’s Best Picture nominees. “But there is one film missing from this list that deserves to be on it because, ironically, it might tell the biggest truth of all.”
As if in response, later that evening, the Academy handed their top prize to “Driving Miss Daisy,” as quiet and uncontroversial a portrait of the American racial divide as you could ask for. Let it never be said that the Oscars have no sense of irony.
20 years on, much has changed. (Basinger has become an Oscar-winning actress, for starters. No one saw that coming.) More to the point, the amount of black Oscar winners in acting categories has trebled. And just two years after Basinger’s outburst, the Academy named 23 year-old John Singleton their first black Best Director nominee.