By Dan Cohen, Santa Monica Reporter
We’re knee deep into awards season, and while the shows may be bores, the movies they’re honoring are anything but. 2009, a year that most of us are glad to be done with, was better for movie going than almost anything else. We got something good in almost every genre, including several truly memorable titles.
The way I see it, any year we get a dozen solid American movies is a good one. And that doesn’t happen too often. As a basis for comparison, there’s a more reliable flow of good work from the rest of the globe, (foreign language films.) There are two basic reasons for this inequity. The first is the simple matter of diversity; many voices versus one. The second has to do with government subsidies.
Virtually every film making country, save ours, has a government program that ensures a certain yearly output. Many subsidized movies are second rate, but since the agencies that decide what gets made have different objectives than our studios, the results are often more interesting. These organizations tend to support the work of up and coming filmmakers, who are often given more than one opportunity to find an audience for their visions. So, at the very least an attempt is made to make movies that matter.
These subsidies don’t cover the entire budgets, but they provide enough working capital to stimulate other entities (TV stations etc.) to get involved. That’s why you’ll usually see a number of production companies (from different countries) listed in the credits of foreign films. All of them own the local rights to the movie. So the risk is spread among a number of players.
Back to the current awards season.
The Hollywood Foreign Press Association, the outfit behind the Golden Globes, this year nominated and awarded an impressive selection of features from the US and Britain. They seized on big movies, (“Avatar,”) and small, (“An Education,”) and a few in between, (“Julie and Julia.”) So talents as diverse as Meryl Streep and Mo’nique got statues.
Most of the films went home with something, from “Avatar” to “Precious,” The others got the exposure they deserved. This is encouraging, and we can only hope it continues.
The Hollywood Foreign Press Association, an eclectic band of US based freelancers who publish overseas, has a voting membership of less than 100. The Academy, by comparison, numbers about 5500, and draws from 15 professional categories that represent all walks of the industry, from actors to executives. Given the numbers, and the fact that Academy members are generally engaged in making films (or in some cases, deals that get them made,) it’s surprising how often the Globes foreshadow Oscar nominations. Over the years the overlap has been uncanny.
One of the significant differences between the two is that the HFPA gives out two “best picture” awards, for comedy and drama. In the past comedies generally reaped the benefits of this separation, because Academy voters didn’t seem to place as much value on humor as they did weightier subjects. That’s the received wisdom, anyway. It might have been that the dramas were just better—I’m conflicted on the subject.
But in today’s film making landscape, where audiences have shown a decided preference for comedy, the studios have been making fewer and fewer dramas. If you believe, as I do, that in the end, all these “honors” are about revenue, you can see how the HFPA performs a service to producers of films like “Crazy Heart,” “Precious” and “A Single Man,” by extolling their work on national TV.
The most significant take aways from this year’s show, a total bore other than the rants and raves regarding female couture, were the several independently made dramas among the nominees. This went hand in hand with the not so surprising defeat of the accomplished “Hurt Locker” at the hands of the steamroller that is “Avatar.” We can expect to see this revisited when the Academy chimes in.
Avatar’s win for best movie and best direction reminds us that despite the numerous critics’ awards, “Hurt Locker” is small and dark. And if the general population got enough of anything last year it was darkness. Still, “Locker,” which only grossed 11 million or so, made the race.
After the Academy announces its nominees I’ll provide a more comprehensive overview. But at this moment I want to focus on one Globe winner and one runner up, both of which boast outstanding male performances.
“Crazy Heart,” which nabbed a win for the underappreciated Jeff Bridges, visits well traveled territory. But it’s a welcome visit, thanks to capable direction, inviting cinematography and Bridges’ smooth and winning performance.
Bridges has been a welcome presence on screen since 1971, when he played a small town athlete in Peter Bogdanovich’s “Last Picture Show.” Over the course of a career that saw him starring or co starring in more than 50 films he’s seen many nominations, but few wins. Does he need a Globe or Oscar to validate his work? I don’t think so, but it’s nice to see him being celebrated at 60, especially in a genial role that allows him plenty of room to stretch out.
Based on a novel by Thomas Cobb “Crazy Heart” takes us on an unhurried road trip with Bad Blake, a booze soaked country and western singer with a practiced knack for self destruction. It’s hard to imagine caring about the character, whose downward trajectory seems reinforced every time he opens his mouth, which is usually accompanied by a swig of whiskey, but Bridges renders him with such respect and warmth we can’t help but get involved. It doesn’t hurt that his singing and guitar playing, in the frequent musical interludes, seems to be his own. Whether it’s actually him or another example of digital magic, is aside from the point; it’s convincing.
How many actors can you name who’ve traveled the well worn road of the weary, middle aged alcoholic/entertainer? In the C & W singer category alone we’ve seen Clint Eastwood, Robert Duvall, Rip Torn, Kris Kristofferson, Sissy Spacek, and George Hamilton, who played Hank Williams way back in 1964. If we were going to list others who played generic alcoholics this piece would turn encyclopedic.
What surprises in “Crazy Heart” is how easily the character and setting seduce us into thinking we’re seeing something new. Part of the credit has to go to cinematographer Barry Markowitz, who keeps the omnipresent Southwest sun from washing out the sensitive color scheme. He’s chosen to capture the bars, restaurants and homes with clean images that downplay the sordid particulars of Blake’s decline.
Scott Cooper, an actor making his debut as a director helps his case by telling the story like it’s the first time it’s ever been told.
Maggie Gyllenhall, the unlikely love interest, makes the most of a tired role. She’s more like a reliable device than a character with stand alone wit or depth. But Colin Farrell, who appears out of nowhere as the successful country star who made it big by appropriating Blake’s personae, has a subtle complexity beyond the script. He too, sings and plays with real conviction. Some of the credit for this has to go to T Bone Burnett, who wrote the appealing songs.
Finally it’s Bridges who makes the movie work. He never strains or sweats; he’s just there at the most important moments.
While we’ve seen the elements in “Crazy Heart” over and over, we haven’t seen either the performance of the visual scheme of “A Single Man,” another Globe nominee. The reason we haven’t seen them before is because until fairly recently the film couldn’t or wouldn’t have been made.
“A Single Man” is a close up and personal account of, what I believe is, one day in the life of a gay university professor, on the first anniversary of his beloved partner’s death.
I say, I believe it takes place in one day, because the movie, a wonder conjured equally of style and substance, transcends its time frame, which becomes immaterial in light of its impact. And while an outline of the events that transpire over its 100 minute running time might make it seem like a downer, it’s not. It’s alive in every scene, thanks to Colin Firth’s deeply affecting performance and Tom Ford’s visually arresting direction.
The source material for “A Single Man” is Christopher Isherwood’s novel of the same name. The novelist and screenwriter, who died in 1986, is best remembered for his “Berlin Stories,” the basis of “Cabaret,” both the film and the play. This, however, is considered his best work. All the more reason to fear for its transition to screen. But here is the rare case, the exception to the rule, where the fear is unjustified. The writer/director who’s taken it up has completely thought it through, and met the challenges.
Tom Ford, a fashion designer credited with taking the troubled House of Gucci and turning it into an international juggernaut, hits a home run in his first time at bat as writer and director. He, like Scott Cooper, was obviously driven to make his film all it could be, although he’s approached it very differently; where “Crazy Heart” sings, “Single Man” whispers.
Although the story deals intimately with loss and its aftermath, it’s richly comic, especially the way it treats every day, random events that fly in the face of our well ordered agendas.
George’s intention, as he rises one morning, is to finally move past the awful loss of his long time companion. His plan includes a day of teaching capped by suicide. But the day has other plans for him, including dinner with the woman next door, an alluring Julianne Moore, who has never reconciled herself to the fact that he’s irrevocably homosexual, and a fateful meeting with an infatuated student, played by Nicholas Hoult, a capable TV actor I’ve not seen before.
Like “Crazy Heart,” there’s nothing in the scheme of events that distinguishes the story. It’s all in the telling. But the telling in this case is imaginative on the level of “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” Julian Schnabel’s superior drama from 2007, which is similarly evocative.
The task, in this case is a little easier, because Firth’s character is simply more likable. We know how painful George’s life has become and we admire him for the way he carries on in spite of it, with outgoing humor and compelling interest in other people. George, at bottom, is relentlessly civilized.
How Firth expresses so much that’s inside with such small movements on the outside is beyond me, but it’s a testament to the resources of a superior actor. Eduard Grau’s delicate camera work, complemented by Joan Sobel’s editing, keep the film stylish and moving. The period recreation, of the early 60s, is meticulous. It helps to convey the difficulty George has integrating his gay identity into a heterosexual world that’s all but oblivious to him.
“Crazy Heart,” will certainly get a local screening. You will probably have to catch “A Single Man” in Philadelphia.
