Joe's annual slog through the Best Picture nominees: Part One

Four of the films up for the top prize at this year's Oscars.

I'd like to thank the Academy... for nominating only eight movies for Best Picture this year. The number of candidates for this award varies from year to year. Back when they started handing these cockamamie things out in 1928, there just weren't that many movies to go around, so there were only three nominees total. (It was so easy to get caught up back then!) 

In the 1930s, however, the quantity and quality of feature films increased exponentially, as did the roster of potential Best Picture candidates. The number of nominees hovered around nine or ten in the late '30s and early '40s. In 1944, the Academy dialed it back to just five per year, and it stayed that way for decades. Slumdog Millionaire from 2008 was the last movie to win under the classic "five nominees" system. Then, apparently, the Academy got nostalgic for the '30s, and the number of nominees again shot up to about nine or ten a year. This year, they've settled on a lean, mean eight titles. Good for them. That's plenty.

Why should I care how many flicks are up for the top Oscar? Well, because every year since 2009, I've been attending the AMC Theatre chain's annual Best Picture Showcase, a marathon of all the nominated films. This is my seventh time through the process. I've seen over 50 films this way.

 Why do I do this? Well, it's a little complicated. I call myself a movie fan, but I really don't go to movie theaters very often. I don't generally enjoy the ritual of "going to the movies," mainly because ticket prices have become astronomically expensive and audience members have become incredibly rude. Even when I like or love the film I'm seeing, I inevitably return home feeling like I've been cheated and a little abused. 

But, as I've explained before, being a self-proclaimed "movie geek" and never going to movie theaters is like claiming you're a Catholic and skipping every single mass. If film is a religion, theaters are the churches. The Best Picture Showcase, then, is like a holy day of obligation for me. Holy days, actually. It now takes two consecutive Saturdays. The first of those Saturdays was yesterday. Here's what went down.

T h e   G r a n d   B u d a p e s t   H o t e l

Tony Revolori and Ralph Fiennes have some transit troubles in The Grand Budapest Hotel.

Director: Wes Anderson

Cast includes: Ralph Fiennes, newcomer Tony Revolori, and an all-star cast including F. Murray Abraham, Edward Norton, Willem Dafoe, Adrien Brody, Tilda Swinton, Jeff Goldblum, Bill Murray, Jude Law, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, Tom Wilkinson, and Harvey Keitel.

The gist of it: The glory days and sad, decades-long decline of a plush luxury hotel are recounted during a dinner conversation between the place's melancholy owner (Abraham) and an inquisitive author (Law). At the heart of the hotel owner's story are the improbable exploits of its original concierge, M. Gustave (Fiennes), a suave and resourceful gigolo with exacting personal standards and an appreciation of the finer things in life. After inheriting a valuable painting from one of his aged paramours (Swinton), M. Gustave becomes the victim of a complicated and deadly conspiracy perpetrated by a disgruntled would-be inheritor (Brody) and his sinister sidekick (Dafoe). Prison escapes, ski chases, and several murders ensue. Complicating all of this is the beginning of World War II and the rise to power of the Third Reich.

My take: Movies are no longer the center of the pop cultural universe. They're no longer driving our national discussions the way they once did. In a sense, perhaps, movies are becoming obsolete. Most of what they used to do for us -- emotionally, aesthetically, and intellectually -- television and the Internet now do, often much better than the cinema. Certainly more efficiently. And the idea of going to a special, designated place (a cineplex) to actually sit still and view lengthy, non-interactive motion pictures in relative silence is, I'm sorry to say, a relic of an earlier, more naive, less jaded time. Downloading and streaming have leveled the playing field considerably. Movies are just more content to watch on your phone or your iPad. They've lost their cachet. 

In a sense, then, the crumbling hotel in this movie, which we see in both its glittering 1930s prime and decrepit 1960s dotage, is a perfect metaphor for motion pictures. And The Grand Budapest Hotel offers a pretty compelling argument for why we still need movies. It shows us what movies can offer us that no other medium can. This is a sensual experience, something to be savored. It's not realistic, but it's better than reality somehow, forged in the dreamy tradition of Walt Disney. It looks the way I sometimes wished the world looked. Plus, it's a cracking good adventure tale and maybe Anderson's most poignant meditation yet on how glory fades and why we should feel bad about that (even though there's not much we can do about it). Sic transit gloria mundi. Does it ever!

My grade: A-


W h i p l a s h

J.K. Simmons has some personalized instruction for Miles Teller in Whiplash.

Director: Damien Chazelle

Cast includes: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Melissa Benoist, Paul Reiser, Austin Stowell, Nate Lang.

The gist of it: An ambitious young drummer (Teller) enters a prestigious New York music school and soon attracts the attention of a demanding, rigorous, and sadistic instructor (Simmons), who possibly goes too far in his efforts to drive his students toward attaining musical perfection. Despite the protestations of his worried father (Reiser) and neglected girlfriend (Benoist), the young man falls under the sway of the formidable, imposing professor and goes to insane, self-destructive lengths to please this impossible-to-please man. 

After one particularly disastrous competition, the student realizes that his very life may be in danger if he continues along this path, but he's still determined to become one of the greatest jazz drummers who ever lived. It all leads to a climactic showdown between teacher and student in an extremely high-pressure public performance.

My take: This was, hands down, the movie that went over the best with the audience at yesterday's Showcase. I have to admit, this one captured my attention immediately and held it for the entire running time, right up to and including a climactic nine-minute drum solo. That's right. A nine-minute drum solo was one of the most dramatic scenes I saw all day yesterday. 

Some of my involvement with this material came from being a musician myself for the last three-fourths of my life. While watching the poor schmuck in this movie pound away at the drums until his fingers bled, I actually felt a little guilty about practicing so little. I've never been through anything close to this kind of hell, and today I play strictly for fun, but I know a little something about tricky time signatures, fanatical band teachers, and those dreaded and dreadful music competitions where your whole life seems to be on the line. 

But, in truth, you don't have to know anything about music in order to enjoy and fully understand Whiplash. If you can understand someone wanting to be the best and being willing to destroy himself to do so, then you can understand this movie. In a way, it was a bold move on the part of the writer-director to let his protagonist be a whiny, entitled crybaby jerk who doesn't always engage the audience's sympathies. 

J.K. Simmons has the fun part here as the teacher. He gets to be a combination of Pai Mei from Kill Bill 2, John Houseman from The Paper Chase, Mickey from Rocky, Col. Kurtz from Apocalypse Now, and pretty much every movie drill sergeant ever, but especially R. Lee Ermey from Full Metal Jacket. There is one minor supporting character, a sad-sack trombonist, who is here specifically to be his "Private Pyle." In retrospect, Whiplash is a little predictable and a lot manipulative, but I'll be damned if it doesn't work.

My grade: B+


B i r d m a n

Michael Keaton is haunted by his superhero past in Birdman.

Director: Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu

Cast includes: Michael Keaton, Edward Norton (again), Emma Stone, Zach Galifianakis, Naomi Watts, Lindsay Duncan, Amy Ryan

The gist of it: An aging actor, Riggan (Keaton), best known for playing a costumed superhero named Birdman in a trilogy of '90s Hollywood blockbusters, is now trying to establish himself as a serious actor by writing, directing, and starring in a Broadway play based on the writings of Raymond Carver. 

The production is plagued by problems, many of which are caused by a talented but egomaniacal and unpredictable younger actor (Norton) who has joined the cast at the last minute. But since the writer-director-star has all his own money tied up in this play, the show very much must go on, even when it attracts the scorn of a vengeful critic (Duncan) who resents this Hollywood pretender showing up on her precious Broadway turf. 

Riggan's own personal life is a shambles, too, with a daughter (Stone) fresh out of rehab and an ex-wife (Ryan) who wavers between concern and contempt for a man she once loved and trusted. With all this stress in his life, it's no wonder that Riggan frequently escapes into fantasy and often has the growly, throaty voice of the Birdman character echoing in his head and giving him possibly-dubious career and life advice.

My take: Of all the movies I saw on Day 1, Birdman (whose subtitle is The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is the closest in spirit to the kind of movie I would want to make myself if I had a cast, crew, equipment, and several million dollars to spend. Maybe as I age and get closer to Sad Old Bastardom myself, I have greater and greater affinity for movies about sad old bastards like Riggan, guys who are just barely hanging on by their fingernails. 

I may also be losing my appetite for cinema-verite-type realism in the cinema in favor of surrealism, parody, and exaggeration. But don't call it escapism! No, I've found that the real truths of life can, paradoxically, be revealed more fully in fantasy. Lies, artfully told, somehow bring out the truth. And Birdman is full of absolutely impossible, magic-realism-type stuff. Hell, it starts with Michael Keaton clad only in his tighty-whities floating three feet off the ground as he meditates in the lotus position.

And don't think that just because his character, Riggan, has retired from his superhero days that we're denied any comic book-inspired action scenes. This may not have been the most stylized movie of the day, since Grand Budapest is practically a living cartoon, but it may be the most stylistically-bold of the four films, with the majority of the film shot and edited in a way that makes it seem like it's composed of long, uninterrupted takes, a la Hitchcock's Rope. And Inarritu is daring in his use of the camera, swooping and soaring (like a bird, get it?) over his actors and letting us sneak all around the corridors at the theater so we can snoop on people's arguments and meltdowns. This is my idea of a fun time at the movies.

My grade: A


S e l m a

David Oyelowo prepares to accept the Nobel Peace Prize in Selma.

Director: Ava DuVernay

Cast includes: David Oyelowo, Carmen Ejogo, Oprah Winfrey, Tom Wilkinson (again), Tim Roth, Giovanni Ribisi, Martin Sheen, Wendell Pierce, Cuba Gooding, Jr., Stephen Root

The gist of it: A biopic of civil rights leader Martin Luther King (Oyelowo), focusing especially on his famous 1965 protest march from Selma to Montgomery in the racially-divided state of Alabama. Having won the Nobel Peace Prize, King hopes to use his prestige to get President Lyndon Johnson (Wilkinson) to enact legislation that will ensure that Southern blacks are allowed to freely register to vote without such impediments as poll taxes and voting vouchers. 

Afraid of damaging his own political career, however, Johnson begs off on this issue and tells King to "wait." Since African Americans are being killed by whites without legal consequence in de-facto-segregated states like Alabama, Dr. King cannot wait any longer. Until they are allowed to vote, he argues, blacks have no say in their own destinies. The march meets with violent opposition from white law enforcement officials, thanks to Alabama governor George Wallace (Roth). It is even controversial within the civil rights movement itself, which is plagued by schisms and fierce philosophical and tactical disagreements. The clergyman's marriage to Coretta Scott King (Ejogo) also suffers during this time. But King presses on anyway, certain that he's doing what's right for the cause he holds dear.

My take: Once someone's birthday has become a national holiday and his name has become synonymous with heroic or virtuous, how do you turn him into a human being again? How do you find the man behind the legend when the legend is 100 feet tall and chiseled out of marble? That was the problem facing Lincoln a few years ago, and it's the one facing Selma now. 

Martin Luther King lived and walked and breathed not that long ago really. Literally billions now living were around when he was assassinated in 1968. And yet, he seems no closer to our time than Abraham Lincoln. Both appear to have graduated from mere humanity and become something more evolved. How can they be made into flesh and blood after that? 

Maybe comedy is the answer. Louis CK starred as the tortured 16th President in SNL's brilliant Lincoln parody a few seasons back, and the Adult Swim animated series The Boondocks hilariously brought Martin Luther King into our time for its "Return of the King" episode in 2006. 

On the other hand, Selma mainly belongs to the tradition of stately, respectful, tasteful, and eminently serious biopics. There is some effort to introduce domestic turmoil, as in a tense scene in which Martin and Coretta discuss the former's infidelity. But the real order of the day here is solemn speeches (often, eulogies), punctuated by scenes of horrific, slow-motion violence. This is all very well-done, though, and there are some tremendously effective scenes, as when Dr. King pays a late night visit to a coroner's office in order to comfort an old man whose son has been gunned down by racist cops. Ultimately, Selma is the kind of movie that feels like the cinematic equivalent of a homework assignment. I respect it, but I wasn't sorry when it ended.

My grade: B+

NEXT WEEK: Boyhood, The Theory of Everything, The Imitation Game, and American Sniper

Wayne Walks You Through the Best Picture Nominees (Part 2)

(IN CASE YOU MISSED PART 1, HERE IT IS.)

Well, citizens, I managed to make it through the second and final Saturday of the AMC Theatres Best Picture Showcase, which means that I have now watched all ten of the flicks nominated for the top prize at tonight's Academy Awards. So I figured I would share with you my views on the five remaining nominated films.

Hard to Watch: Based on the Novel Stone Cold Bummer by Manipulate

THE FLICK: A desperately poor Missouri girl named Ree must locate her missing, meth-cooking father -- dead or alive -- in time for a scheduled court date in order to avoid losing the family's modest home. The other members of Ree's rural community want to conceal the father's fate and will go to great lengths, including brutal violence, to prevent Ree from learning the truth.

WAYNE'S TAKE: Every year among the nominees, there should be at least one "be-thankful-for-what-you've-got" film designed to play on viewers' guilt. While we're all snug and cozy in the movie theater, the poor-but-proud characters on screen are barely subsisting in a world that looks like a post-apocalyptic hellhole. Last year, the official guilt-trip movie was Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire (which inspired 30 Rock's parody Hard to Watch: Based on the Novel Stone Cold Bummer by Manipulate). This year's model is Winter's Bone. The young heroine, Ree, wouldn't want anyone feeling sorry for her, but somehow that just made me feel worse about what she's going through, not only finding her father but almost single-handedly raising her two younger siblings. (Did I mention that Ree's mother is in a catatonic state? Geez, God, give these folks a break!) Don't worry, though, that this is just a two-hour exercise in tasteful, feel-bad hicksploitation. The plot actually functions as a very intriguing mystery/conspiracy with plenty of shocking and violent incidents along the way. And then there are some truly heartbreaking dialogue scenes, as when Ree meets with an Army recruiter. I don't want to spoil too much about the film, but the scene with that recruiter is probably what will stick in my mind the longest about this movie. GRADE: B

Possibly the Rocky Horror of the new millennium.

THE FLICK: An uptight, high-strung ballerina named Nina enters into a world of madness, pain, and paranoia when she is cast as the lead in a new production of Swan Lake. Is a younger ballerina trying to replace her? Is she merely replacing an older ballerina? And, for the love of God, is Nina actually transforming into a swan the way her character does in the ballet?

WAYNE'S TAKE: Tchaikovsky by way of David Cronenberg (specifically The Fly) with a generous helping of All About Eve (or Showgirls) thrown in, Black Swan straddles a line between high art and high camp. This might well be the most riotous live-action comedy of 2010, a film so far past the point of ridiculousness that sometimes the only reasonable reaction to it is to laugh. Perhaps it will one day be recognized as the Rocky Horror of the new millennium, with fans dressing up as the characters and saying the dialogue in sync with the actors. In Nina, Natalie Portman has finally found a role which suits her stiff, pinched, overly formal delivery. I wonder if she'll ever find a part this perfect for her again. As much in bad taste as Winter's Bone was in good taste, Black Swan is a film for everyone who cherishes the stylistic overload of Stanley Kubrick at his maddest or 1970s/1980s Brian DePalma at his most gleefully gaga. GRADE: A-

A dream inside a dream inside a... you know what? I stopped caring.

THE FLICK: A highly-skilled thief named Cobb, trained in stealing ideas from people's minds, assembles a crew for one last big, risky heist. He and his teammates must actually plant an idea in the mind of a wealthy businessman's heir. Only by successfully completing this task can Cobb ever hope to see the faces of his two children again.

WAYNE'S TAKE: The clear fanboy favorite of 2010, Inception is a film which -- and I realize I may be banished from the Internet for saying this -- failed to impress me during its original theatrical run last summer. In short, I found it to be all gimmickry and no real heart or soul. It seems like it's going to be about exploring the landscape of the mind, but it too soon devolves into shouting, explosions, and shootouts and relies far too heavily on clunky expository dialogue. Plus the whole thing looks like some kind of catalog for sleek, high-end modern furniture. Revisiting the film a half-year later, I realized I had perhaps underestimated Leonardo DiCaprio's performance as Cobb, but I still found the second half of Inception to be a noisy, calamitous, headache-inducing drag. And what should be the central relationship, that of Cobb and his late wife, never felt real or true to me. Do these seem like people who have a shared history with each other? I'm still baffled as to why America embraced Inception so fondly. GRADE: C+

Newsflash! Mark Zuckerberg? Kind of a dick.

THE FLICK: The semi-true, semi-fictional story of the rise of Facebook and its frighteningly ambitious founder, Mark Zuckerberg, a Harvard computer whiz who originally creates the infamous social networking site as a way for horny Ivy League students to keep tabs on each other. As Facebook soars in popularity, Zuckerberg makes new friends, betrays old ones, and winds up as the target of several pricey lawsuits.

WAYNE'S TAKE: Every year among the nominees, there is a film which veers so closely to my sense of humor or my sphere of interest that I like to pretend it was made especially for me. Two years ago, it was Frost/Nixon and last year it was A Serious Man. This year, that movie is David Fincher's The Social Network, a whip-smart update on the director's Fight Club. What can I say? This film had a dizzying effect on me, and I mean that as a compliment. I have no idea if the actual birth of Facebook was anywhere near this amusing. Personally, I don't care if it was. For sheer fun, The Social Network is rivaled only by Toy Story 3 among the nominees. GRADE: A

A n-n-n-nice l-l-little hist-st-st-storical dr-dr-dr-drama.

THE FLICK: Another semi-true, semi-fictional story, this film portrays the relationship between King George VI and his long-time speech therapist, Lionel Logue. When his father's death and brother's abdication force him to take the throne at a time when World War II looms, the reluctant King must finally conquer his stammering problem in order to properly execute his duties.

WAYNE'S TAKE: If The Social Network is very much a film about the world we occupy now (and may one day be a time-capsule candidate), The King's Speech is decidedly timeless. It could have been made ten years ago or could be made ten years from now with virtually no changes to the script or filmmaking style. This is a drama which takes historical events and makes them life-sized and relatable by focusing on the very human story occurring behind the scenes. And, oh, such a cast they've assembled for this task. If you're the type who collects "Great British Thespians" trading cards (I'll trade you two Colin Firths for a Derek Jacobi rookie card!), you will very much enjoy this picture. Were it not for The Social Network, this would have been my favorite of the day. GRADE: A-

And that does it for Wayne's Oscar preview. I'm looking forward to the ceremony tonight. My pick for Best Picture is The Social Network. I don't know whether it will win, but I guess we'll see.

Wayne Walks You Through the Best Picture Nominees (Part 1)

This year, like last year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has nominated ten movies for Best Picture. Yesterday, thanks to the AMC Theatres Best Picture Showcase, I sat through five of those films consecutively. I would now like to share with you my thoughts about each of them:

TOY STORY 3

THE FLICK: Woody, Buzz, and the surviving members of the Toy Story gang have to adjust to new lives now that their owner, Andy, has grown up and is going off to college. A possible future awaits them at the Sunnyside Day Care Center, which is ruled by the corrupt Lots-O'-Huggin' Bear.

WAYNE'S TAKE: A very funny, touching, and beautifully made film. There's so much detail crammed into this film, it's impossible to take it all in. The voice cast is uniformly excellent. The animation is impeccable. The script is extremely clever, packed with jokes but also telling a real story and dealing with some very human emotions. This was a great, colorful start to the day. GRADE: A



127 HOURS

THE FLICK: The true story of a young man, Aron Ralston, who goes hiking in the desert and finds his arm hopelessly pinned down by a rock in an extremely remote location. With food and water running low and no rescue in sight, Aron must make tough decisions to survive.

WAYNE'S TAKE: If you're worried that 127 Hours is just two hours of a guy stuck under a rock, let me reassure you that there are plenty of flashbacks, dream sequences, and fantasies to break up the visual monotony. That being said, James Franco (as Ralston) carries the film almost single-handedly and does so with a terrific, nuanced performance. Still in all, a film I'll probably never revisit. GRADE: B




THE FLICK: The comfortable lives of two lesbian moms are disrupted when their teenage children track down the sperm donor who is their biological father. The family's very stability is threatened when several members bond too closely and too quickly with this likable, laid-back newcomer.

WAYNE'S TAKE: If I had to come up with a word to describe this comedy-drama, it would be "slight." Don't get me wrong. It's very skillfully and believably acted, and there are some nicely-observed moments in the dialogue. But it all felt a little too cutesy and forgettable to me. When it was over, I just sort of shrugged it off. Julianne Moore, although not nominated, deserves special praise as the standout among a very good ensemble cast. GRADE: B-



THE FLICK: The Coen Brothers present the second filmed version of Charles Portis' classic Western novel. A 14-year-old girl, Mattie Ross, hires a hard-drinking, over-the-hill U.S. Marshall, Rooster Cogburn, to help her track down her father's killer.

WAYNE'S TAKE: Probably my favorite film of the day. This is what might be called classical filmmaking, old-school craftsmanship at its finest. The film is anchored by three very able leads (Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon as well as newcomer Hailee Steinfeld), and is marked by superb cinematography, costume design, score, and art direction. GRADE: A

THE FLICK: Another true story, this one is set in the world of boxing. A promising fighter's career is threatened by the dangerous antics of his unreliable, crack-addicted brother, a former boxer himself who now serves as his younger brother's manager.

WAYNE'S TAKE: Do you like boxing movies? Do you like inspirational, climb-from-despair-to-victory stories? If so, you probably have already seen and loved The Fighter. This was the last film on the schedule, and that's a tough slot because by then the audience is pretty much worn out. But even in my weakened condition, I could recognize its quality. Christian Bale has the showy role as a crackhead and runs wild with it, but Mark Wahlberg and Amy Adams do commendable work as well. Great sense of time and place, too. GRADE: B+ but probably an A- if it had played earlier in the day

(CLICK HERE FOR PART 2)