Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Hit Me With Ya Best Shot: Streetcar

Looking over at Andrew's site I discovered Nathaniel's rather new meme that I found pretty cool: pick your favorite shot and why it is, in a specifically chosen film, whether you are a fan or not. Fortunately, this week it's one of my Top 5 favorite films of all time, and like Andrew, I am having a hard time picking one shot, so instead I have a few separate ones. Maybe you can help me pick which one should be the one.

Blanche is in the midst of a reality-fantasy moment late at night when nobody's home. She's adorned herself with an old white gown and the rhinestone tiara,with the polka music playing quietly in her mind. Then Stanley's voice is heard almost out of nowhere, and says "Hi, Blanche". She pauses and gazes around the room until he can be seen entering the house. It isn't a big moment, but it doesn't need to be. Kazan's film is filled to the brim with small nuances of subtlety and complexity, that provides layers and layers of fresh, imaginative interpretation. Here, we hear the voice which shatters that moment for Blanche and causes a weirdly distilled silence in the darkness before switching back to harsh reality. Stanley's voice almost seems to be in her mind and intruding her false notions; dominating her even when he isn't even in the shot. It's the kind of technique that couldn't really be done on stage with the same kind of surreal, unsettling impact. 
After Blanche tries to set Stella straight and begs her not to "hang back with the brutes!", they two embrace in a sisterly, loving kind of bond before we hear Stanley casually entering in the other room. The camera catches each of their frightened reactions, before they both quietly gaze at each other in a heated moment of silent tension.
Stanley's shadow appears in the background, as the sister's embrace slowly crumbles when Stan calls for his wife. Again, the mere presence of Stanley throws them both back into a scared and uncertain state with each possibly thinking about the reality of the intellectual and emotionally charged love-hate triangle they are desperately caught in. Maybe we catch Stella acting "out of character" in the sense where she's contemplating the horrifying truth, or maybe not. It's a testament to the actors and director that such conundrums, while lucid and sharp, aren't spelled out for us. That's what makes the film so richly satisfying. 
In the last scene, Blanche is in a corner, literally and mentally. She is told she has to leave, and it seems to her that she's trapped, but then Stanley suggests that she take the Chinese lamp shade and he holds it out for her to take. This one moment that hits the peak of Blanche's breakdown and shatters it all, always gives me goosebumps. It's a combo of the acting and staging of the scene, that gets under my skin. In that one moment, I feel Blanche more than I have ever before in the movie, and I suppose that set up is the point of it. Alone, scared, trembling and mumbling, with everyone else "against" her and Stanley's simple but somehow vicious and dominating gesture makes this moment resonate with a haunting edge. But it's strange how I also feel for Stanley throughout the film, even though this devastating last blow turns it all to Blanche.

What do you think of these different picks? Agree? Disagree?

Rest In Peace, Elizabeth Taylor....


Just a few days ago I was thinking to myself how amazing it was that Elizabeth had made it so far, especially with so much sickness and tragedy that she had to endure. She was beautiful and elegant, but had something that many female stars in Hollywood didn't have; a refined innocence and integrity as a person that was reflected in her memorable screen work as an actress. She'll always be known for velvet eyes, multiple marriages, giving one of the greatest performances of all time, and being a glamour and larger-than-life icon of Hollywood, but she will be remembered too for the lovely human being she was, and the great spirit that she is now...residing with her many soul-mates of friends and husbands she's loved and lost. I bet they're happy to see her.

 R.I.P 
- Elizabeth Taylor -
1932-2011

Saturday, 19 March 2011

Performance Review: Melissa Leo in The Fighter (2010)

It's been awhile for sure, but I'm back with this past year's Supporting Actress winner in spotlight (just how she LOOOOVVVESSS it!); one who stirred up a little bit of weird (i.e. desperate) PR in the form of an ad which kind of backfired and presenting herself to the media and the world as more than a bit shallow and a lot less than humble. But, nonetheless, it didn't stop her from swiping this year's prize, and it's actually a bit surprising that Oscar (and most every other critics group) had such an adoring affection for...

Melissa Leo plays Alice Ward, the loud and crazy, but loving manager mother of "Irish" Micky Ward (the immaculate Mark Wahlberg), a boxer who has yet to soar partially due to Alice's ways.
Alice is a woman who has led a crew of nine children in the tough, gritty city of Lowell, Mass, and who's used to getting what she wants without making it seem like she's even trying.
She has her loyal daughters on her sleeve, following her every move, a devoted husband, and two sons which whom are wiggling out of her grip as all of their lives are becoming shifted every which way; something she isn't used to, and something she refuses to get used to. She may be Micky's manager, but it's no secret that she favors her elder son Dicky, especially when she thinks that a camera crew following them around is for his big comeback, when it's really about his crack addiction.
And it's with Dicky she sides with when Micky begins to seriously consider heading in another direction, a direction where the domineering Alice will no longer be in control. The real life story isn't particularly known for the maternal setbacks Micky faced during this strive for the top, but the film explores these relationships with depth and makes clear one of the most important themes: family. It's family that ties mostly everyone in the film together, and anyone outside the family is considered risky and untrustable, and it's something Alice openly believes.
Though inside the family haunting truths begin to arise when Alice (who's been in some serious denial for years) is beginning to realize that her pride and joy Dicky is a loser, crack-head that has gone completely off the tracks partially due to Alice's loose and unsuspecting hold she tries to have on him. This revelation comes when Alice (in her furry slippers) makes her way to the crack house to find Dicky desperately jumping out of a high window. They both make their way to the car where a heartbroken Alice at first silently refuses to accept it before she quickly falls under Dicky's weirdly charismatic spell. It's Leo's best scene in the film and it grips us to see a complex character at her peak. 
And yes, like the other characters, Alice is by design a simple yet complex character who's caught in a tangled web of moral and emotional complexities, but much of this doesn't actually derive from Leo's actual portrayal in the role. It's written as truth, and the actual Alice Ward gives Leo a lot of actorly bits to chew on both physically and verbally; big hair, gaudy wardrobe, chain smoking, lots of words to shout, and a heavy Bohston accent. And that's the problem, when Leo's performance is a flashy, showy externalized walking caricature. 
That might be an easy way out, to call it "over the top" and "showy", but it's true and Leo does what I least like in supporting performances; trying so hard to own the film, blow everyone else off-screen, and to have no interest in elevating the proceedings and the other actors. It's a problem that critics, voters, and film loves have embraced as a positive quality that puzzles me, to be honest. 
With such a complex part, Leo copps out with having fun with the expressions and accents rather than constructing a human character who's just as lost as the others around her. Leo doesn't illuminate much about Alice; her internal integrity, her motivation, her reasoning, her inner turmoil for herself and her family. It cheapens the character that we don't really get a glimpse behind her facade, and it prevents any character development. The rest of the main cast and their characters grow and change in their own ways from all of this, but Leo's Alice is the only person who doesn't seem to budge or grow, and it's because of the actress playing her. In every scene, she's always present and engaged (even in the ensemble action), but never that focused, and always much more "in the moment" than "in the character" -- and it's clearly felt. 
Though this category has seen bigger disappointments with its winners, I remain stumped as to why this occasionally funny ("that Salanada-banana-fuckin'-thing!") but nearly completely unsatisfying performance amazed so many and swiped all of the attention away from her much more deserving co-stars (aka the unnominated Wahlberg, and the defeated Adams). I mean, I get why she won (loud, brash, unsubtle, pure fun with little substance, and scene-stealing) but c'mon, it gave a vain actress and character the attention she simply didn't deserve. But The Fighter is a great enough film that her cotton-candy, lightweight work doesn't bring anything down. And Thank God for it. 

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

"I Like My Life..."


Amy Adams in The Fighter

Click here to see a snippet of one of the best performances of 2010.

Also, look out for my Melissa Leo review followed by Adams.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Coming Back

I've been off for a little over a week now, and I've been thinking of new ideas to explore in depth because the well here and in my mind had been kind of dry (if you hadn't noticed). It's been a semi-crazy time getting college things done and squared away, having a little writer's block, but enjoying reading what you guys post daily. It's inspirational for me at this time of my writing career to learn and grow off of others with my own thoughts and ideas mixed in.

But, I will be coming back with a review of this year's Supporting Actress winner's performance; Melissa Leo in The Fighter. I'll be able to do one more re-watch, before I collect the screen caps and do my write up. Oh and don't forget, The Fighter comes out on DVD this Tuesday, so run out and get a copy!

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

Oscar Reaction

Disappointing. Flat jokes, half the charm/charisma (thanks Anne for trying!), and lousy timing. The structure of the show felt messy and clunky, with getting across that the Oscar's are - "HIP and AWESOME!" With iPhones, Twilight, and other modern gadgets and pop icons, while at the same time trying to unintentionally reminding us that the Oscar's were funny at one point where it felt natural and not stiff. James Franco stood at the center giving nothing but smirks and stoner looks -- the guy had to be on something -- and we got another weird look at his ambiguous sexuality when she donned a drag queen get-up, which went nowhere.  It was a strange night that seems universally un-liked -- an especially by FilmFreaks and Oscar Obsessors.

Leo's speech was just as plastic and transparent as anyone would have thought, and I was really hoping Hailee would be walking up there and having Leo slump back in her seat. "Mine...For ME!?" -- she loved every second of chewing her way to the core of her inflated ego. And she didn't even deserve it. Why the hell wasn't Amy given those prizes? Leo wasn't bad, a nomination's good, but her performance does not qualify for a win. And then she infamously swore for even more attention, and my heart sank.

The only big shock came from Fincher not taking Best Director, and now Hooper will be hated from now on. But is The King's Speech that great? I haven't seen it, but does it really stand out and represent the Best Film of 2010? It seems to glide more on its performances, but I really fairly cannot say. I mean, I may love it but over The Fighter, Black Swan, Toy Story 3, and The Social Network, it seems like a default (i.e. safe) Oscar choice, for a large group of people who are scared to embrace advancement and change in cinema (the syrupy, goodie-goodie Forrest Gump beating the sharp, exhilarating cinema spectacle of Pulp Fiction is one of the worst cases), and it's a shame. But as along as we can still love, cherish, and appreciate those kinds of films that the Academy won't, life will be awesome and cinematically satisfying.