The treatment of people suffering from mental health issues or illnesses has a long history of inadequacies. We have long struggled with how to treat people who refuse or are unable to conform to the rules, norms and minimum standards of behaviour. You may be crazy, but as long as you are able to partake in a little behavioural self censorship then, thank goodness, you’ll not bother anyone and get along in life JUST FINE. There is a varied and often unsettling history of films that record or tell such stories. and although there are many reasons for such work it has always been clear to me that they offer up an opportunity for us to ask ourselves what makes these people so unpalatable or unsettling to the rest of us that they are in almost all cases segregated from outdoor, everyday life. Is it their unpredictability, or their inability or unwillingness to conform to our expectations of ‘rational’ behaviour? Cognitive differences along with mental health have been explored in exploitative films like ‘Freaks’ (1932- where there was a fairground element of exposing an unknown world to the general public) to sympathetic works of genius like ‘Harvey’ (1950, more the tradition of the arts of depicting ‘the fool’ as having a peculiar brand of wisdom which is beyond the rest of us- a “who is really crazy though, me or YOU?” movie- is it saner to be mad? Are we mad to be sane? The movie adaptation of Catch 22 (1970) is another example of this, the trailer for which sums this up perfectly: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Unn8fgs8fao “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” has both of these elements, and is possibly the best example of each. The performances instantly stand out as unique- Jack Nicholson had already shown himself to be very capable (having broken out in Easy Rider, (1969) and Five Easy Pieces (1970) but this is undoubtedly his first truly great performance. The part may not have been written for him (it was a 1962 novel), but there are times after watching when you find yourself asking the question every actor wishes would be asked after a performance: how much was McMurphy, and how much was Nicholson? Much of the action is improvised, lines were written and delivered, but not always and not necessarily the way they were written down. This gives the entire film a more realistic feel. Having come off the back of making ‘Easy Rider’ (1969) where he, Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Terry Southern created a film which had not just improvised dialogue or scenes, but used real drugs on film while meandering through a somewhat improvised plot and plenty of madness to boot. Nicholson was the perfect choice for “One Flew…” Transferred from prison in the opening scene, McMurphy rarely leaves the grounds from that point onwards. Jack Nitzsche’s soundtrack, a gentle mix of classical and modern pieces with plenty of Theremin, is unnerving. It tells you to expect something different- these sounds open the movie and set you up for the ride. The film introduces the inmates and each of their predicaments and states through their interactions with McMurphy who will not settle for small talk. His need to get to the truth, however uncomfortable it makes people, whoever he might hurt along the way, is both empowering and squirm inducing. The ward where we spend most of the movie is quietly, cruelly controlled by Nurse Ratched, but she is shaken by McMurphy’s very presence. He is a shining light of justice and rebellion in the institution, causing many inmates to be revealed to be perfectly functioning in many ways, far from what Nurse Ratched would have them believe- a weak, malleable, vulnerable group that must not think for itself. For their own good, of course. We are swept up in their journey from this state to one where they (and we) might dare hope, having experienced a tantalising taste of purpose and dare I say a quest. The violence which ends this journey is shocking, and is where the crux of the power of this film lies. You might not want to be in the same room as him, or even like him all that much, but he is a character you can’t help but love. I believe this to be because there is a piece of McMurphy in all of us, the outspoken, principled rebel who takes no shit, who relentlessly bounces back after a setback and sticks it to the man at any given opportunity. Watching this film, seeing that flawed but heroic part of you is finally ‘free’ on screen is a therapeutic experience, McMurphy certainly switched something on inside of me, albeit mostly during the running time. We hold back this element of our character to varying degrees, and so we are sane. We don’t let him out of the little box he inhabits in our head, as much as we occasionally want to, because we are afraid it will compromise OUR sanity. He has a power that we are afraid of. The Nurse Ratched in our heads wins on a daily basis, preferring order and control over progress and creativity, because it is easier and we believe we will be more easily accepted in this sedated state. This film helps us question this unnatural, glory-less unnatural order, and whether you see it this way or not you will have more questions than answers after watching. Sometimes, this feeling is the very best that can come of any work of art.
You often hear of propaganda films made during the second world war, but most see it as a nefarious tool used by the Nazis to brainwash their citizenry. They had many purposes: to solidify the idea that your side was ‘right’, that the other side was ‘wrong’, to reassure that the outcome of the war would be positive, to remind the people of what they were fighting for, that it was well worth the fight, to make you feel part of a common cause, to create affinity with your ‘side’, to dehumanise the others… well, Mrs Miniver was a film that ticked all these boxes and was made by the allies for an allied audience. This film was made for the American public in particular and the purpose was all of the above, but had the specific purpose of wanting to create an affinity between the British and American people. It gently massages in the idea that ‘yes, they have a class system we chuckle at and even disapprove of, but it is a system that works in its own way and is infinitely better than the National Socialism of the Nazis. You will have no doubt heard of Joseph Goebbels- the propaganda minister for the Reich, and father of the relentless political propaganda machine of the Nazis- on seeing this film he was moved to write that Mrs Miniver “shows the destiny of a family during the current war, and its refined powerful propagandistic tendency has up to now only been dreamed of. There is not a single angry word spoken against Germany; nevertheless the anti-German tendency is perfectly accomplished.” He is no doubt the best judge of what this film accomplished in the political sphere. 'These are the good guys and well worth the US joining the fight for. They are really just like you and I.’ Some forget that the Americans joined the war late, the Brits were already isolated from the mainland and it really did appear to be just a matter of time before a final assault would be made. But in the States there was much debate as to whether it was in the American interest to be involved at all. Mrs Miniver was made to ensure that the public were onboard with the battle for Europe. We are taken through a number of classic WW2 movie tropes. From the breakout of war announced to the congregation by a vicar in a quaint village church, through Mrs Miniver (played by Greer Garson) and her tight-knit family. Eldest son (Vincent/Vin, played by Richard Ney) signing up to the airforce and proposing to his beloved (an 18 year old aristocrat from the local manor) the same night he is called up, quickly followed by her husband (Clem - Walter Pidgeon) being called to take his preposterously small launch to help in the evacuation of Dunkirk. There are many scenes which stand out, which earned this film the best picture Oscar. One highlight of the film is undoubtedly Mrs Miniver’s encounter with a grounded German pilot who has evaded capture while the men are away. In this 10 minute segment the dialogue is sparse and no music is used whatsoever. This is not only unusual for the time but also unusual for the rest of the film- so often films bluntly dictated the mood with their use of a soundtrack, but here the only sound we hear beyond the German pilot’s barking of orders and Mrs Miniver’s calm, fearful responses are the occasional creak of wooden chairs and kitchen floorboards, at one point interrupted by the milkman’s whistle as he goes about his business. The silence lifts the tension and ensures that you realise just how alone they are together: ANYTHING could happen, and you wonder how it might end. It is an iconic wartime scene put together beautifully to leave a powerful impression. The film rolls on through the war and Vincent Miniver marries his sweetheart. The Battle of Britain also features heavily with Vincent in constant peril. But the threat is not limited to the skies. The Miniver’s cower in their Anderson Air Raid Shelter as it is shaken by bombs falling all around them, the children crying… it is impossible not to feel for this civilian family, not to worry for their wellbeing. Again the soundtrack is absent, but for the seemingly interminable whistling and crashing of bombs. The propaganda works. It is a movie that makes you want to jump in and help, to make it all just go away for them. But it doesn’t all just go away. The victims of this war are not depicted to be just those who choose to fight, but the innocent too. The final scene is the one you are meant to leave with. It is a speech given from the pulpit by the vicar who although ostensibly addressing his congregation is in fact addressing the people of the United States. Behind him is what is left of the north church wall, his roof in pieces around him. The pulpit stands, but is exposed to the elements. He vows on the people’s behalf to fight on, but they are vulnerable. “There is scarcely a household that hasn’t been struck to the heart…why should these be the ones to suffer? Are these our soldiers… our fighters? This is not only a war of soldiers in uniform. It is a war of the people. Of ALL of the people.” It echoes Churchill’s “on the beaches” speech, speaking of the battle needing to be fought by “every man, woman and child who loves freedom”. If you are to watch one film made during the war about the home front, this is it. It is somewhat theatrical, but this is where the style belongs: in the depiction of the British and their ‘stiff upper lip’. The emotion comes across as heartfelt, and it is exactly how the brits would have wanted to be depicted: sympathetically and with admiration for an idiosyncratic way of life lived by so few, but which has defined the nation for so long. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
This is one of the early Oscar winners that few without an intimate knowledge of the early days of the awards would know anything about. It tells the tale of Emile Zola and his lifelong battle against inequality, and for justice. It is an epic, the scale of the producing is apparent with the brilliant use of hundreds of extras who sometimes play almost as significant a role as any of the principals, creating the tense, hostile atmosphere in the courtroom, the panic in the square and jubilation in the streets for the returning army from the Prussian conflict. The baying of the crowd is particularly impressive- individual voices can be heard while the overall effect is naturalistic. However, the fact that the stand out performance is from the extras maybe reflects that an actor’s training in 1936 is still heavily grounded in the theatre- cinema had not yet quite found a style appropriate to the big screen. Their bold movements, necessary on the stage, like many other films of the era come across as unrealistic and exaggerated. Sometimes even comical without intending to be. We begin in the draughty hovel of a room he shares with an early Cezanne, the master painter, who was also yet to hit any headlines. Very sentimentally shot in soft focus, black and white, and with orchestral strings brought in regularly to direct emotion it has a very dated feel. There is an artistry to it all, but it is hidden- camera trickery might go unnoticed, such as the very clever lighting and use of shadows to enhance the scale and depth of certain shots. For instance, in the 2nd military tribunal (of Estherhazy) there are only ten soldiers behind him, but the lighting gives the impression of the darkness, power and reach of this moment. Costume and set design were also carefully considered. The contrast between poverty and opulence is stark- the broken, dirty window panes and crates of the start are replaced by gilt-edged furniture, sparkling 18 candle candelabras and rooms stuffed with other decorative items. If it were not already enough, Zola and his wife ensure you can’t miss their progress up the material ladder: “see the pearls Emile bought for me when we were in Italy”; “this most exquisite majolica”. You may know Zola, the author, legion d’honneur holder, founding father of modern France. Here he is shown to have a moral compass that always pointed true north, much to his detriment in the early days where he suffers at the hands of the authorities and rich, dumpy employers- none of whom argue that the man can’t write, but all abhor his chosen subject of bringing to light the injustices suffered by the poor, the weak, the vulnerable while berating the rich, the powerful for what he saw as their criminal inaction and neglect of ordinary citizens. “Why do you write such muckraking stuff when there are many pleasant things in life?” his tubby superior implores. The film focuses on two moments of inspiration in Zola’s life. The first, a chance encounter with a lady of the night who gives him the bones of the story for his first bestseller, ‘Nana’. She is running from police who are rounding dozens of such ladies up in the square, Zola hides her in plain sight at his table in a cafe and they get chatting. She tells him her story of hopes dashed, small girl in a big city, being taken advantage of by unscrupulous characters and finally the death of her young daughter. He puts pen to paper, tells her story (calling it “Nana”), hits a winning streak of success after success and finally finds economic stability. That’s the set up. The years pass, Zola himself grows ‘fat and old’ (his old friend Cezanne warns him) and soft too… he effectively retires from fighting injustice, feeling he has earned it. But we are barely half way through the film, and so the second moment of inspiration arrives. Another female figure- the wife of a wrongly convicted military man serving a life sentence on Devil’s Island (the notorious prison island off Guyana, you might remember it from 'Papillon' - the 1973 film starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman*) arrives and appeals to Zola to take up their cause. Although reluctant, he can’t refuse once he takes the time to study the evidence not just of his innocence, but also of a conspiracy at the top of the military establishment. A juicy target he has no intention of passing up. And so Zola, in what will prove to be his final act of defiance against a superior authority begins a seemingly unwinnable battle when he utters the immortal line: “I accuse…” (or “J’accuse!” if you so prefer) and accuses the entire higher military establishment of collusion, conspiracy, fraud and cowardice. This soon becomes a courtroom drama, the earliest I have yet seen, shot sumptuously with over a hundred extras who are fantastically directed. Once again, Zola suffers indignity, and this sets up the denouement. Vindication! Justice! Vive la France! Overall, the film impresses, but with a running time of just under 2 hours and every minute heavily laden with overacting, wigs, stiff backs and calculated movements it is one whose qualities, like a large Havana cigar, are perhaps best enjoyed by connoisseurs of the genre. The rest of us are unlikely to make it all the way through. Postscript: Many of Emile Zola’s writings are referenced throughout the film, and I wanted to add a final note on this. At Zola’s funeral at the very end of the film the eulogy given includes the following words, a translation of Zola’s (from the 19th century) and here used as a warning to Europe, in the middle of the rise of the Third Reich- : “Do not forget those who fought the battles for you and bought your liberty with their genius and their blood. Do not forget them and applaud the lies of fanatical intolerance. Be human.” Fine advice to all. *Corrected 9/9/18- I previously stated that Napoleon was imprisoned there, but that was the Island of Elba. Silly me. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
Knowing something about a film before you go in can skew the effect it has on you. If you haven't seen 'Ordinary People' and are considering watching it sometime soon (maybe as a result of this review, I recommend it) then I would suggest that you do not read on until after you have. This page contains spoilers and you will want to avoid them. This is a film about grief, a family's grief after the loss of their son. The three lead roles are played by Donald Sutherland (Calvin- the father), Mary Tyler Moore (Beth - the mother) & Timothy Hutton (their son Conrad, pictured above). All give performances which appear effortless, with mother and father convincing us that they believe 'all is well' very successfully, but as the film rolls each layer of skin and muscle is peeled away until the raw, bleeding, still beating hearts are revealed beneath. I believe I was a good audience: a seen-it-all-before viewer who knew very little, but just enough, about the movie. I fooled myself into thinking I knew where this might be going. I knew the theme was grief, but what I didn't realise was that the loss had already taken place- that the timeline of the movie begins one year after they lost first son Buck (Scott Doebler). This was due to Sutherland & Tyler Moore's success in convincing the audience that they simply couldn't fathom why their second son was acting up... the audience see Conrad is a troubled soul as he struggles to make it through breakfast, the drive to school, swim practice. So I quickly formed the opinion that he was headed for suicide and the film would be dealing with the resulting grief of his parents who were so blissfully unaware of the depths of his despair. But this film does not deal with suicide. Calvin and Beth are not alright. They want everything to be alright, they want everything to go back to normal and so they fake it. They fake it hard. In public, in private. Just as it is near impossible to read their emotions, it is also impossible to get the full picture. There is a drip, drip, dripping of information... a flashback to what appears to be an upturned boat in a storm - a reference to Conrad being released from hospital a month before - Beth spending time in a room that belongs to someone no longer in the house, showing emotion for the first time... and the drip, drip, drip continues. The tension is ramped up as all three start to acknowledge, in their own ways, that all is not well. Each has a very different way of dealing with it. Interestingly, quite surprisingly, melancholy or sadness are rarely seen. It is a stunning portrait of grief and how it might affect a family. There is no melodrama, there are few tears, the resulting raw emotional energy from having lost a son and brother comes out in conflict, fear and anxiety. The breakdown in communication between the married couple points to how death can destroy the living too. The message is clear, throughout: bottling things up won't help and the more love we can show each other when we are at our lowest ebb the more chance there is that these wounds can be healed. I know that in my own family when someone needs strength their partner is the first port of call, their most likely source of strength. This film so eloquently paints a picture of a family who are all so lost in a fog of grief that they struggle to see each other, worse still they all have a different idea of what they need and what the right thing to do is. The resulting dynamic is tearing them apart. There is no happy ending, they don't just 'get over it', but you get the sense that by the end of the film Conrad and his father might well come out OK. Maybe Beth will be able to find some peace elsewhere, too? It is a satisfying conclusion- we all live with grief once touched by it, very few of us 'get over it'. I am astounded that such a serious, tender, realistic film won the Oscar for Best Picture. There was no bombast, no pretence, all was understated. This is an intellectual and emotional heavyweight of an Oscar winner, I am shattered having watched it, and I suggest that if you have not seen it you seek it out. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner Five minutes in and you think that the beginning gave too much away. The exposition is really heavy handed but, fortunately, this movie has plenty up its sleeve. The main characters are introduced making phone calls in the lobby, each explaining their identity: “I am awaiting news from Manchester, without it I cannot sell my business” says the factory owner, “I am dying, and plan to live out my final days in the grand hotel, the greatest of hotels, spending all my savings. And I hate my boss, the factory owner.”... and so on. If you ever find yourself wanting to explain exposition with a copy of Grand Hotel to hand, play the first 4 minutes. The pace is slow to begin with, but as we meander alongside the protagonists, through the halls, rooms and balconies of the Grand Hotel we benefit from this pacing. We are gently absorbed into and by the construct, it watches much like a novel. The flailing about of the early talkies had been off-putting, here I found myself admiring the magnetism of the drama. The characters are driven by endearingly simplistic motivations and remain true to them throughout. There is Greta Garbo’s Russian Ballerina (Gusinskaya) who has lost inspiration and John Barrymore’s Hotel Thief (Baron Felix) who finds the light in her presence, Joan Crawford’s playful ‘Flem’... there is a strange pleasure in watching these finely crafted charicatures’ stories play out. Each character has their best moments when they hold the spotlight in masterful two-handers. A fine collection of character actors, they feed off each other but always in a shared spotlight. Any combination of characters seems to bring something new, reveals something you hadn't yet seen, one of the clearest examples of this is with Kringelein, the aforementioned accountant who finds a new lease of life in his final days spending all his savings on champagne and gambling. When opposite the Baron he becomes more confident, with Flem he is a shy boy or ‘soft old fool’ and when in the presence of his boss of 30+ years he cowers, but later rails against his cruelty. They are all defined by their relationships with others, and once you see this you realise that you cannot wait to see who comes together next. Wallace Beery plays said boss: General Director Prysing, factory owner. Although shown in a sympathetic light at first, a businessman trying to keep a company afloat, his turning point comes when he lies to push a business deal through in desperation. Generally a distasteful character, he is responsible for crushing any chance of a happy ending for the Baron and the Ballerina in the final act. In the context of the first years of the great depression it would have been very easy to set him up as the bad guy, and likewise the Baron as the hero.The latter, a man down on his luck resorting to crime to survive, maintains his honour as best he can and always supporting the underdog: just what the 1930's needed. And so, the pace picked up towards the end and really found its groove in the final act. 'Life goes on, regardless' is the message and it is delivered artfully. The Grand Hotel itself is an apt metaphor for the world which continues to turn despite goings on on the surface. Guests come and go, fall in and out of love, births, deaths, gain or let slip a fortune. But, the doors will continue to open and shut dispassionately. Money is also a theme- how people will sacrifice morality and dignity or simply what is right in order to keep it or to make it, despite their often noble instincts. Here, we have another early talkie worth watching, you do come away wishing to have booked a room and stayed even one night. This film gives you two hours in the Grand Hotel and they are worth it: I've given it 5 stars on tripadvisor. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner All love is powerful, Hollywood has long exploited this. It sells this particular strain by the bucketload: a romantic love that knows no bounds and is limited by no earthly constraints. The English Patient is one of the most perfect expressions of this kind of love. This man (Almásy, played by Ralph Fiennes) and woman (Katharine Clifton, played by Kristin Scott Thomas) find themselves in a situation which needs no further complication. She is married to another, WWII is breaking out around them and they spend most of their time in crocked vehicles with dwindling water supplies in the deepest of deserts hoping that they will be rescued sooner rather than too late. But they do fall in love. That much you can see from the poster. It is as if Jane Austen and Rudolf Valentino collided, creating something new, but old. Somehow, innocence and good sense had been left out of the mix. Our two protagonists show neither of these qualities in any great abundance and as a result the fireworks fly, a marriage implodes and the devil may care. I can't say that I warmed to either one of them- but that doesn't seem to matter to me. Both are rich- he is a count, she is landed gentry. Both have lives of excess and folly, champagne camping trips, events in evening dresses and tuxedos, but also manage to take themselves terribly seriously. They are not used to having to earn anything, to having to wait for what they want. If it weren't for the fact that she falls for him, that the feelings are mutual, you are left with little doubt that his sense of entitlement to her by virtue of the fact that he loves her utterly and completely would not just be creepy (as it sometimes comes across), but dangerous. He has little compunction in letting her know that he has rights to her, that she should relent, and she does. His somewhat single minded view of how she should spend her time is, fortunately, shared. His willingness to do anything to see her again leads him to provide maps to Rommel's Nazi desert troops enabling a massacre of thousands. All in the name of his love for her. However, this portrait of a love which leaves a trail of destruction across North Africa is countered by another tale woven into the film, a tale of two simpler people who seek nothing material (Naveen Andrews plays Kip, Juliette Binoche as Hana). Their love hurts no one, but hanging above them is an ever approaching double-bladed sword of Damocles: everyone she loves dies, and he is a bomb disposal expert who spends his days defusing booby traps and unexploded ordinance. The English Patient is sumptuously shot. To make it this far into a review without mentioning this, or comparing it to Lawrence of Arabia (as lazy as it may seem, with both set in the desert) is absurd. But it is to the film's credit that the beauty is complementary, not central. The power of this film lies in the worlds created by the director (Anthony Minghella): utterly convincing. You willingness to believe is enhanced by the central performances, the intimacy between Fiennes & Scott Thomas is particularly striking. There is so much going for this movie, and it stood out so considerably from the other films of the mid nineties, I can understand why when it came to voting for 'Best Picture' the members of the Academy would have thought to themselves that this had the edge, and posted their ballot accordingly. It distils Hollywood's obsession for (and vision of) love so well that it doesn't even need you to like the characters very much in order to admire the depth of feeling they have for each other and enjoy this movie-going experience. So, both couples find their worlds shaken and shaped by love and death, and spend much of their time transcending both. It is well worth watching it happen. This was worth revisiting. An important note on the matter of size
If you get the chance, this is really one for a very big screen. We are lucky that these days most of us have a 40-odd inch screen in their home, but being immersed in this film, to physically look up to it, is where it is at. To feel the music, to become part of the world that is Minghella's creation is worth a cinema ticket. If you can't, although there is plenty to take from watching it scaled down, the epic nature of a film like this will most likely be lost in translation to the small screen. Enjoyable in both settings, but I recommend an outing for this one more than most. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner "All About Eve". Unassuming, never puts a foot wrong- both the title role and the film. Both begin as fairly nondescript, but it is hinted at early on that there is more to Eve than meets the eye, and so we watch events unfold with anticipation. With an impossibly strong female cast (Bette Davis, Marilyn Monroe are among the supporting cast, Ann Baxter the titular Eve) it is for once the turn of the men to decorate the set with limited roles. Shots are usually from behind and over the man's shoulder and constructed to ensure the women take centre stage. And with good reason. This is a tale of women existing within the constraints put upon them living in a man's world. Margot (Davis) has given everything to her career and begins to see the end nearing with every passing day- her roles were always written for twenty-somethings and it has been a while since she was pushing forty. Now, in her words, she is working hard just to 'stay a woman'. In the men's eyes Karen (Celeste Holm) exists as a wife, and a friend to other women, but nothing more. Miss Casswell (Monroe) a ditzy film actress more than willing to play the angles she needs to in order to give those with the whip hand reason to let her get ahead. Margot leads the way as the ageing talent they love a verbal tussle with, but are tired of having to bow to. When you finally see Eve reveal her true colours it comes as no surprise, her intensity is dialled up a notch, and the reaction from Margot is proportional, finally vindicated in her suspicion of the butter-wouldn't-melt Eve. I am moved to note that the negativity in the relationships between the women, the backbiting, plotting and holding on to by their teeth to what little dignity they are afforded by the powerful men around them reflects the schoolyard and the power games played between 14 year old schoolgirls. It is all the power they are allowed to wield, and their 'histrionics' (as they are perceived) are easily dismissed by those not involved. But just like in the playground, the distress caused by these power games is always surprisingly powerful when it is finally revealed after having been suppressed for so long in order to keep a hold of their dignity. This film, so laden with verbal guile, ends equally gracefully. We want the plotter to get her just desserts, but we also love it when a Machiavellian scheme bears fruit. Both would have been the most satisfying of endings. Whichever you might hope for, you get more. There is no suggestion that this is the end, no suggestion that anyone involved has bettered themselves or learned their lesson- it suggests that leading ladies are in a constant cat fight and the only dignified end is an exit, not a victory. This is a film which holds its own nearly 70 years after its release. Every element, even down to the interaction between the sexes, have aged, but they have done so brilliantly. Nobody comes out of it unscathed, but it certainly suggests that there is more than one way to come out on top once claws are bared in human interactions. This is a thoroughly entertaining watch, one whose appeal lies beyond the usual ground of the nostalgia nerd, and I commend it for its enduring quality. With thanks to Hannah Laurel who requested this review
EveryBestPicture.com revisits the winner of the BAFTA Award for Best Film
I had just seen a celebrated movie which despite its undeniable beauty and technical accomplishment left me cold. There was no substance to it, no ambiguity, no call for any real involvement on my part. Then I strolled into “Three Billboards”. What I found in this film was a nuanced experience, one that offered you a tale that takes place in the aftermath of a killing, just after the dust had settled in this small rural community. The events that unfold are instigated by, and told from the perspective of, the mother of the victim: you are beside her as she fights to ensure that justice is served on behalf of her daughter. When a character's motives are self-evident but it is unclear how far they are willing to go we arrive in places like Ebbing, Missouri, in the presence of Mildred. An interesting thing happens when an underdog refuses to abide by societal norms for behaviour: it is disarming. It becomes her superpower. In the hands a great actor giving an unfalteringly great performance this unpredictability has a magical effect on both the people of her town and of the audience. Neither is left unchallenged. Mildred has been let down by the men in her life (played by Woody Harrelson, Sam Rockwell & John Hawkes) and the town just wants to quietly forget that such barbarity could occur. McDormand delivers Mildred, in her last ditch efforts, with as much humour as intensity and this wholly wins us over. We're behind her, beside her as she ploughs a furrow, but never able to quite keep up enough to see where she might turn next. We root for her far and beyond the point at which we would normally question our devotion, but after what she has been through who can blame us. It is hard to resist the temptation to jump to comparisons with Ripley (Sigourney Weaver in Aliens) or Susan Sarandon (Louise in Thelma & Louise), but the truth is that this only tells half the story: they are just two other well written roles for women who feature a rounded character who happens to be realistic portrayal of woman at the end of her tether (and largely driven there by men). All the comparison serves to do is highlight how few and far between these roles are in mainstream American Cinema. Do we honestly think this is a proportional representation of reality or even of our interest in this aspect of reality? It must be hard for an actor like Frances McDormand- there is no doubt that she has the ability to rival any other in the trade, but alas, she is a woman. Roles for male leads come along often enough that a man at the top of his game will be able to pick from a host of juicy well financed films, all varied in their demands but handsomely rewarded. He will often have studios writing films with him in mind for the lead. A woman at the same heights will still have to bide her time, waiting for a project like this to come her way. Since 2008 McDormand has had one other lead role. This is most likely down to being in a position where she can pick and choose her roles now and how much time she wants to devote to acting. She works when there's good enough material to work with. This actor won the Oscar for best actress in 1997 (Fargo) and 2018 (Three Billboards) and has been nominated by the academy 5 times. Why would you NOT write roles for her? She reflects that she is cast as an outsider in both life and art (there's a more in depth take on it in this interview: https://bit.ly/2HhbRF4). My take is that she's right and male writers don't quite know what to do with her (just 14% of writers in the top 500 films were women). And it still took a man to write Three Billboards. I don't think that there is an audience that would not enjoy this picture. It has a taste of everything anyone could ask for. Aside from a taste of the aforementioned Ridley Scott masterpieces it even has a little sprinkling of Death Wish (1974). That's pretty broad. The acting is superb from top to bottom, the world taught and real, the writing exemplary in how to produce for the masses without dumbing or talking down. It feels that although little about this film is new, the Writer/Director (Martin McDonagh) has discovered a rich seam in a long tradition of straight talking storytelling. I for one hope that he continues to mine it as thoughtfully and successfully as he has here and that its honesty and power continue to capture audiences as they do in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
A picture about and of divorce in 1970’s New York. The most civilised place to end a marriage, at that time. Kramer vs Kramer is a stunning snapshot in time of how a marriage might fail in a world where men and women could both be educated to a similarly high degree. Each were taught to expect that they could remain equal partners in life, but would then face the reality that society still expected women to fulfil a certain role. That role required both to revert to traditional breadwinner/homemaker stereotypes which were all too easy to slip into. This clash of expectations is depicted through the story of the Kramers, Mr (Dustin Hoffman) & Mrs (Meryl Streep). These two actors are, perhaps, the finest of their generation and although Hoffman was at the peak of his powers this was Streep's first motion picture. I was astounded to find this out after watching and after hearing how she repeatedly pressed for more depth in Mrs K's character (I like to research post-viewing). Her first film. It could be argued that Streep has never dipped below the heights reached in this performance, a debut to be envied. The performances of the leads were delivered in their trademark naturalistic, usually method, style and demand high praise. I am happy to add to a pile of hysterically positive reviews that continues to grow nearly 40 years after the release. All this praise for the leads and the supporting cast was just as strong. Justin Henry (as their son, Billy Kramer- one of the youngest to be nominated for the Best Actor statuette) and Jane Alexander also put in an unshakeable effort. This leads me to the inevitable conclusion that the Director (Robert Benton) deserves his fair share of praise. Probably not a name you are too familiar with, but you will certainly recognise his credits as a writer: Bonnie and Clyde; What’s Up, Doc?; Superman (1979- the original). He has been involved in very few projects since, which is a shame for us. His choice of when to use close-ups, medium and wide shots are so natural that you quite honestly forget you are watching a film. The longest shots by far are of the married couple meeting in the park when Mr K. hands Billy over to Mrs K. and Billy runs from him to her, leaving Mr K. standing alone, the shot from a distance making him smaller and more alone than anyone else has been in the film up to that point. A director whose naturalistic style perfectly complimented the production. We are invited in to the conversations with close ups, into the courtroom by placing us in the public gallery, every scene has carefully chosen angles to provide a view that one might have if they were actually present. The sexual politics are dated, but to the modern viewer this actually aides the piece. The idea of this being a snapshot in time is compounded by the traditional (/simplistic) approach by the courts. Mr K. arguing with the court “why can’t a woman have the same ambitions as a man?” and suggesting that we are not set up as a society to enable this without a significant amount of express willingness from everyone directly involved (spouse, employer, families, friends). Hearing this from Mr. K makes him heroic, although he is simply arguing for a logical approach. “How reasonable of him!” we exclaim, whereas had the exact same argument been put by Mrs K our attitude may well have been to think that there’s probably a bit of self interest there. This exposes the impossible situation mothers found (and find) themselves in: “Tsk. How privileged she is, to argue for equality!”. Juxtaposing this with the line “what makes a woman a better parent…because of her sex?” in the same speech moments later gives everyone pause for thought to evaluate whether their opinion on the matter comes from personal experience or a logical approach. The film is suggesting that we can’t possibly say what is right for the child (or the couple) by applying blanket statements like “A mother makes a better parent” or “a child needs their father’s presence no matter what”, but that we should have an approach which takes the rights and merits of each person and their position on a case by case basis, regardless of assumptions we make based on sex. This went against the grain of a system which, at least in part, made (/makes) divorce difficult in order discourage it. While singing its praises, we should also be aware of the recently exposed controversies surrounding the method acting on set. Hoffman is alleged to have slapped Streep in a scene, repeatedly raised the recent death of her real-life fiancé to heighten emotion and also smashed a wine glass within inches of her face (see my handmade GIF, above) without any warning or previous discussion, in order to illicit what he thought would be raw emotion. She has since mentioned it as an unfortunate by product of the art (“when you're an actor, you're in a scene, you have to feel free”… but asserted that he “overstepped”). This is extremely magnanimous, considering that she was virtually powerless as a woman in her first ever movie role to confront a man as powerful (whether he was aware of it or not) and as well respected as Hoffman was at the time. It is a shame that the sexual politics of the production were not as forward thinking or understanding as that of the film itself, but this was long before #MeToo. Streep, playing an absent mother and also absent from many of the scenes, had to fight for her character in production to be presented in a more sympathetic light. Much of the credit for the film’s success should go her way, as with this ambiguity (not a simple good father vs bad mother angle, which the script tended towards) we find ourselves torn and more willing to understand both parties. That is largely where the film’s success lies: there is no denying that this is a story of both parents’ struggles told from the father's perspective, but both sides are given oxygen in the final act. This allows you to make of the denouement what you will. It is a fine balancing act for writer/director Benton. We are clearly invited to reach a certain conclusion on watching it but there is an effort to allow you to reach it by yourself, which is the most rewarding of feelings for an audience. Kramer vs Kramer may be an Oscar best picture winner which passed you by. Neither the topic (divorce) nor the poster (top) are inspiring or inviting and it is rarely referred to as ‘one to watch’. But this is an ensemble effort executed with aplomb. Knowing that equal credit is due to all those involved only adds to the big picture and overall sense of satisfaction. I have little doubt that you will be glad you took the time to watch it, and is rare that one can say this with such confidence. With thanks to Carolina Lins who requested this review
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AuthorPablo Griffiths is a man with a passion for many things. He has recently taken an interest in writing about film, and himself in the third person. |