After viewing this next performance, it seems to fit under the category of "not-dead-yet" nominations that the Academy usually hands out to beloved stars/actress' that have yet to be touched my Oscar or even a mere nomination. While some are plausible enough (Lauren Bacall, Gloria Stuart), some just seem thrown in with little merit attached (Don Ameche, Ruby Dee), and one which I have yet to distinguish is...
...Sylvia Sidney in Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams (1973)
Sylvia Sidney plays Mrs. Pritchett, the domineering mother of Rita (Joanne Woodward) with whom she reconnects with as her daughter goes through an emotional crisis.
While Rita is bored with her mundane life and is slowly picking through what's left, her mother (whom she spends the day with) is much more direct about her situation and her stilted attitude towards her daughter and the world becomes quickly obvious.
While they eat lunch at a "fancy" restaurant, Mrs. Pritchett and her daughter realize just how different things between them have become, and how she represents a specific day and age which separates her from the modern world in which she so grudgingly lives. She complains about the food, the lack of proper manner, and basically how everything about social society has hit a new low in her opinion.
The character's screen time is very limited, but Sidney grabs the role by the reins and takes control when she's on. Mrs. Pritchett is, by design, a flat device used to get Woodward's Rita's show on the road and not to actually serve the character or actress herself. But like the best of 'em, Sidney -- with formidable verve and sharp wit -- elevates this boring role out of the gutter and gives this old harridan some peppy life.
But where Sidney's subtle achievement is, is in her ability to nail little character details; such as illuminating her underlying sadness, her joyous reactions at reminiscing about the past and a life she could've had, and irritating non-acceptance of personal choice (the eye roll after seeing the picture, which I know Fritz loves, is hilarious and perfectly timed). Sidney hits these correct notes with precison and somehow keeps the character from becoming obnoxiously unpleasant, but the actress can only do so much when the film suddenly kills off Mrs. Pritchett for narrative purposes and effects really.
While it might have been concived as just a career nomination, Sylvia Sidney's is a memorable and noteworthy, subtle accomplishment that -- while not especially surprising or deep -- does much more then what the script required her to by rejuventating nothing into something.
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