Carpenters Christmas!

Performance Profile: Queen Latifah in Chicago (2002)

I have decided to take a rest on 1994 -- and the last two boring(!) nominees that I haven't written about yet -- and pick up things a bit with 2002, and interesting year with varied performances across the board. First up is a prime, underrated example of what "acting at the edges" really means in a movie -- especially an ensamble -- and how a small, cipherish role can be milked for all its worth and used for the highest effect possible. This exciting scenerio can be found in the nominated performance given by...

...Queen Latifah in Chicago (2002)

Queen Latifah plays Matron "Mama" Morton, the mistress/matron of murderess' row in a woman's prison in 1920s Chicago, where newest prisoner Roxie Hart (Renee Zellweger, simply luminous in her underrated performance) has been placed under Mama's watchful eye after killing her lover in cold blood.

Latifah's Mama acts as simply that for the fresh batch of ladies coming into the cold life of prison -- a seemingly protective, caring mother figure who plays a simple game of tit for tat; or in her bold words, "When Your Good To Mama, Mama's Good To You". In her intro and only show-stopping number, Latifah's Mama -- in Roxie's (or the movie's?) imagination -- delivers this saucy bit of good advice to the adoring audience.

Latifah performs the number with compelling, toe-tapping zest and appealing verve. Her Mama can be your best companion or your worst enemy, and it rests on the shoulders of the individual, in this case Roxie.

Latifah's Mama immediately takes a special interest in Roxie's innocent nature and reassures her that Mama is here to take care of her and can act as her bridge to the world outside if she plays her cards right within her inside home. Mama also has an on going "bond" with Roxie's fellow prisoner Velma Kelly, who knows how to work her way into Mama's good graces any time she wants, if only for a discounted price.

The odd affection she shows for Velma is caught onto Roxie, and Latifah's Mama sees Roxie as both a means of hustling her way to some extra cash (including a phone call for $100) and maintaining her formidable reputation as the true countess of the clink. As with Velma, Latifah's Mama says she'll put in a good word to get top lawyer Billy Flynn (the horrible Richard Gere, horribly miscast) to represent Roxie in court, and with him she has a very high chance of winning.

As Roxie begins to climb the ladder to infamy, Mama is there as her right-side woman, assisting and aiding her along side Billy for her appearances to the outside world. It seems as though, now, that Roxie has won over Mama -- though in one of Mama's defining beats, she betrays Roxie by handing over her personal diary to Velma to share with the world. Yet somehow, Latifah shows that Roxie is still one of the "chickies" in her pen and that she plays these kinds of games to maintain leverage with all parties.

It's in this quietly complex, contradictory nature that Latifah really find her footing in the role and most importantly, finds a person in a stock role, that in the words of director Rob Marshall, "Is a grand entrance with nowhere to go".The actress' accomplishment in the cliched role of Mama is being able to present Mama's powerful, mercenary intentions while still somehow making her appealing and likable, even as we catch on to her scheme. She maintains her humanity amid everything, and in her performance, Mama is a black woman in this time in the world whose merely trying to get by. She's silently aware of the demeaning stakes against her and uses "walls" for good use when she needs to.

The role isn't much at all and after a little bit the movie seems to have little use for Mama Morton as something other than a device. Yet, (save for Zellweger's Roxie Hart) Latifah's Mama emerges as the only genuine character, one who lives beyond the stage the film keeps her confined to.

Through the combined force of Queen Latifah's charisma, energy, and formidable presence in the role, Mama Morton emerges as something beyond what's required from this simple role. With a glimmer of humanity and a whole lotta personality, Matron Mama Morton becomes a memorably refreshing person where a mere cipher could of stood (see CZJ exemplify this soon...) and remains Chicago's true best supporting actress.

If you have the chance, go and see...

...Pitch Perfect.

It comes close to living up to it's title and you won't regret it.

Just A Quick Question....

Sorry for the delay on the last two remaining nominees from 1994 (I'm trying to get them on DVD/online -- if you have any links to them please let me know!). But after I do a surprise Performance Profile, I wanted to know what year you guys would be interested in seeing me do next; for me, it's between 1997 and 2002. I know I did '02 awhile back with a Smackdown, but I didn't do the profiles. So, if you have any preference let me know.

Performance Review: Dianne Wiest in Bullets Over Braodway (1994)

Back tracking a bit again -- the surprise of the lack of enthusiasm for 1995's winner is understandable yet rather sad. When the quality of the film she's in might just be at root of one's beef with a winning performance. But then there can be times when many people as a collective group (ie. the whole film community) find it in their best interest to rally around any said performance that might just become too overpraised (ie. overrated) after a certain point and carry on so for years. Though this case is nowhere near as drastic as others, this sentiment holds slightly true for the highly acclaimed 1994 winning work of...

...Dianne Wiest in Bullets Over Broadway (1994)

Dianne Wiest plays Helen Sinclair, the once luminous, now aging Broadway diva whose looking for a comeback and finds one when caught in the awe-struck gaze of playwright David Shayne.

Helen, from the start, is a creation spun from the spirit of Norma Desmond herself -- a high-strung, buzzing, highly theatrical, quick-witted, floozy, but captivating presence. Wiest's Helen is a woman/actress who treats the world around her as a giant stage, upon which she is always giving some kind of a larger-than-life "performance" as herself.

Wiest's Helen is first reluctant to be part of such an unglamourous role and production by an untested director, but with a few accommodations, Helen agrees to take the seemingly drab lead role of Sylvia Posten, and make it something of her own.

As she reads more into the character at rehearsal, Helen begins to see "it" in David's work; a subtle, yet powerful kind of genius that stems from the under appreciated mind of this down-on-his-luck fella. In David, Helen sees someone who shares an identical artistic passion for crafting life from mere words on a page, and being able to share it with an audience.

In Helen, David finds sees a richly cultivated and charismatic woman, one who is not only able to understand, but to feel what he feels and appreciate it in a way many others have yet too.

In turn, David begins to fall into a kind of love with Helen, a love she's not sure she can be apart of. The role (like almost all Woody Allen roles) is written in broad, theatrical strokes; requiring an actress to be able to stir a strange mix of energy, neurosis, and laughs -- and on these accounts, Wiest hits a home run. She can land a line and time it with precise accuracy and stops short of tipping over the edge. I love how ably Wiest can tune/alternate her vocality and energy to one moment -- running around and braying -- to another -- sitting on a park bench speaking in a refined, subtle tone.



The actress shows Helen's utter lack of apology from anything, even when she slips into a quiet mode, and it makes Helen fun to watch. In her famous one-liner, she tells Cusack's David, "DON'T SPEAK!", yet the chattering Helen is able to do anything but that herself.

And while Dianne Wiest is very vivid, alive, and enjoyable in the role, she is much less vivid in the words more basic sense of being emotionally lively. Maybe it's the role, but Wiest's performance -- for all its strengths -- skips over past any emotional texture to be found in Helen Sinclair. Granted, almost every scene she's in has the character on a repetitive loop and doesn't give Helen any real emotional reality. Intellectual reality? Yes. But not any real emotional foundation.

Yet, I still hold Wiest partially responsible for this, as she doesn't seem to read past the script's limits and unearth something deeper within a character that has some real potential to go off of. In turn, Helen becomes closer to caricature than character as the film continues when it should be the other way around. Where's Helen interior life? Her soul? It's all covered with a glamorous gloss.

With a different hold on the character, this really might have been the Best Supporting Actress of 1994 -- with a less technical characterization approach and more nuance. Still, Wiest is very consistently funny and finds her nuances there, but it's still hard see past those few surface notes...



Performance Profile: Jennifer Tilly in Bullets Over Broadway (1994)

Like last year (literally and figuratively), when Woody Allen gave us a shallow, sketchy, but colorful creation with Linda Ash, from the outset (before screening the film) it looked as though there might be trouble ahead for the actress who had to work within such confining limits. But something wonderful happened when Mira Sorvino ably elevated both her role and film with her uncommonly intelligent performance of a rather unintelligible person. It's always fascinating to watch an actor spin something richer from a (possibly) thin, tepid role as written. Sorvino's subsequent career hadn't seen much more after Mighty Aphrodite, and its something of a loss when a talented, distinctive performer isn't given the right material (or any material at all) to work with after a big high. Such is the case with this next (surprise) nominee whose carved out a pretty interesting career for herself that still leaves us wanting more, much like her performance, the one given by...

 

...Jennifer Tilly in Bullets Over Broadway (1994)

Jennifer Tilly plays Olive Neal, an untalented, but eager chorus-line dancer in the roaring 1920's who has been waiting for her big acting break on the NY Broadway stage, as she believes, that's "where her gifts are".

Olive also happens to be the moll/mistress/girlfriend of crime boss Nick Valenti who is funding an ambitious stage production by a desperate novice playwright named David Shayne (John Cusack doing his usual mannered, paranoid schtick) -- one who needs his show to go on at all costs.

Olive and Nick take quick advantage of this unlikely situation and see it as the perfect opportunity to grab Olive a showcased role in the production as a breakout into the world of fame. Only problem is that Olive is dying to get her hands on the lead role of Sylvia Posten, has no acting experience at all, and has little in the way of natural acting talent.

Olive invites David over to her place to discuss the play and try to win him over, so to speak, and throughout the scene (and the film) Tilly aptly demonstrates just how oblivious Olive is in setting herself up with as a pro. She's at once sharply contradicting herself every which way and yet remaining totally unaware of what she's really up against.

 

And that Tilly instinctively seems to get this, makes Olive a kind of odd, yet delightful spectacle.

Tilly's Olive then begins to try to insinuate herself into this unfamiliar kind of world that requires dedication, professionalism, and, most of all, talent -- all of which she doesn't seem to have much of a knack for; even as she sticks with it trying to get through the exhausting, extended rehearsal process. As she tries to prove that she can be on the same kind of level as the trained actors around her, Tilly's Olive continues to make a show of just how out of place she truly is.

In the process of making her way through her new ensemble of new faces, (including Wiest's Helen, Ullman's Eden, and Broadbent's Warner) she has an "old face" tagging along with her every step of the way in the form of Cheech (Chazz Palmentari in a hilarious, deservedly nominated performance), one of Nick's top goons, who's hatred of Olive is as strong as hers is for him. 

As the rehearsal process spins more and more out of control, it is Olive and Cheech who are the middle of it all, twirling it around to satisfy their selfish demands, at the risk of ruining the play and crushing David's artistic integrity. And in the hands of another performer, the character of Olive -- who likes to throw bold fits and tantrums like a child -- may of easily come of as completely abrasive and highly unlikeable. But at the same time, that's the point. That is the way the character is as written. Yet Tilly's performance, somehow, keeps Olive in just the right pitch, where -- like character herself -- we are of two minds about her.

For a character who's mere mention or presence instigates anxiety and/or frustration in those around her, Tilly is remarkably able to make the most obnoxious character as written into (possibly) the most enjoyable one to watch on screen. But also as written, Olive is merely just an amusing accessory to the action, whose only "there" to really stir up more panic in her surroundings -- and while she might not be able to transcend being a caricature, Tilly provides the film with some genuinely hilarious moments and line readings ("what is she retarded?!").

 

The actress' appealing comic timing and naturally distinctive squeaker of a voice are tailor made for such a role (ironically, those two qualities are both what helped Sorvino give her Linda some more flavor), and Tilly's preternatural loose and imprecise quality -- in a good way -- bridges the contrast between she and Wiest's Helen Sinclair, and yet both are able to tune their characters just enough to make them both shine.

Around the time of the film's release/Oscar season, Jennifer Tilly's performance and nomination were treated with a casual disdain; being written off as a joke and an absurdity by many (and she had not received any prior awards notice). And while I can understand the dislike and potential unappealing nature of the actress/performance, I feel that Tilly's work in this shallow, silly role milks everything for what she can. It's almost impossible to find any substance or depth in such a role, and with that, the actress just simply has an high old time with the scraps she's given.

Like in any Jennifer Tilly performance, I want to see more of her, and can't wait for her to pop back on screen again and do her thing. It's wispy, yet solid work for an unfairly maligned and under appreciated actress.

Performance Profile: Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction (1994)

It's always an exciting task to watch each of the nominated performances in a given year, because in addition to the actual performance(s), their is the actual film they happen to in, that could be just as much a treat, Sometimes the nominated performance can be so much better than the film deserves. Other times the performance falls below the overall greatness of a film (and can bring it down with them). But there are other times when performance and film can be totally and utterly in sync with each other in celluloid heaven, and with a radiant afterglow. This first nominee fits that last category to a T, and though I had (sloppily) profiled her awhile back, I realized she deserved better. And with that I give you my full, fresh thoughts on the unpredictable delights of...

...Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction (1994)

Uma Thurman plays Mia Wallace, the prized, protected wife of a big-time L.A gangster who has left her to be looked out for by one of his top hit men Vincent (John Travolta in a nuanced, perfect performance) while he is out of town on business.

 

Mia's name/character haunts the film long before she finally makes her appearance, and the build up, from the outset, provides her with a mixed air of mystery and intensity, that slightly shakes an unprepared Vincent.

Mia brings them to have dinner at Jack Rabbit Slim's, an eye-popping, expansive, nostalgic burger joint, that also offers steaks and Five Dollar Shakes. Though their arrangement isn't technically "a date", Thurman's Mia begins to casually establish the encounter -- for herself at least -- as something more than an arrangement made for her by her husband. And Thurman's performance establishes this savvy from the get-go.

Their extended conversation quickly begins to cover their present lives, pasts, careers, and subtle philosophies on the world they inhabit. And with each topic Thurman's Mia takes advantage of the chance to scope out Vincent and see what kind of connection the two could possibly share, beyond the banalities of the everyday (criminal) life they both revolve around. Thurman imbues a kind of playfulness to the sequence, and let's us see that Mia enjoys the pleasure of being always one step ahead of the curious, but oblivious Vincent, despite the fact that she genuinely enjoys his company.

 
As the conversation gets more and more into intimate territory, Thurman's Mia becomes more lucid and lively than ever before -- and though even with the aid of Tarantino's crackling dialogue -- Thurman is able to still keep Mia enigmatic. Thurman was simply born to speak QT's words (watch the joy of the Kill Bill's for an extension of mastery on both the part of the actress and director), and here she handles the wordplay with a vivid immediacy, that lead to some excellent line readings.

With all that, the role seems simple enough for Thurman. The actress' gifts of a distinctive screen presence and uncommon charisma -- both of which keep Mia in a sharp, magnetic focus -- are perfectly suited for this strange role, but Uma goes farther past that.

Her accomplishment in the role comes from her understanding that, while QT's words have a juicy surface, the complexity of them exists underneath and in-between them. That the entertaining and brisk banter holds more weight than what we might hear. With this, Thurman is able to subtly illuminate the compelling shades of Mia's interior life -- her sense of humor, curiosity, loneliness, kindness, etc. -- while also ably conveying the fact while Mia is a woman inclined to making bad choices, she has an edge of intelligence and knows what she wants.

And in addition, she currently wants to win the restaurant's Twist Contest trophy. And with that the two get up and shake their groove things in hope of winning.

Back at home, with Vincent of two minds in the bathroom, an ecstatic Mia dances about the house in bliss, until she settles down on the couch and discovers a bag of Vincent's recently purchased heroin (which she believes to be coke).

Helping herself to a long line, Mia quickly begins to suffer the effect of an overdoze, and in a flash her eyes, once bright and gleaming, now only see death.

Once discovering Mia's condition, Travolta's Vincent in a state of incredibly high anxiety, zooms over the home of his drug dealer Lance (Eric Stoltz) with Mia in quick need of help to revive her.

Which he does. With a long needle being plunged into her heart, which instantly awakens Mia who flings around, panicked and disoriented.

This exhilarating sequence is topped off with an offhand, "Something.." (when Mia is asked to say something if she's alright), and Rosanna Arquette's -- "That was fuckin' trippy!" -- perhaps the best tension reliever.

This leads to Mia's final scene (we only briefly see her again) as she returns home shaken and uneasy after one helluva night. She and Vincent solidify their kind of special "bond" through two final beats. Both agree to keep this messy incident a secret from Marsellus, and shake on it. And Mia finally lets Vincent in on what her corny, unfunny joke was, as if softly giving him something in return.

Thurman delicately handles this scene with a haunting, tender sadness; her complexity revealing itself in a whole new way. For her, the past couple of hours have been new to her experience of  self, as she has seen and felt things unlike anything before.



Uma Thurman's work in Pulp Fiction is even greater than what an already juicy, memorable part imagined. In a role that many other actress' might have overplayed into a neurotic mess of contradictions, Thurman's performance grounds in a simple, charismatic humanity. For an actress and film I love, I'll say this -- Uma Thurman's performance is a perfect addition to a perfect film.