I’ll soon get around to giving my nominees for best scene of the year – but it’s such a capricious task choosing the best in this category, so I had to make a list of also-rans that impressed me this past decade. Choosing favourite is a difficult thing, sometimes they don’t occur in your favourite movies and sometimes the weirdest moments in a film might impress me. It’s all really quite subjective, but before I get to the top ten finalists – here are fifteen great scenes that didn’t make it to the top of the list.
(I already compiled a list of
best endings and
best beginnings of 2010, so none of the scenes that appear here are from the bookends of their films.
click on the links for reviews, where available)
THE SEMI-FINALISTS
Now that I think of it, it probably suggests inanity on my part to have Alice in Wonderland a list talking about best scenes and not have other much fêted films here. Nonetheless, my favourite scene in Burton’s latest is one that I’ve spoken of before. It’s notable for Helena Bonham Carter’s delicious macabre ways as she introduces Slade to her new protégé – Um. It’s a classic case of meaning being lost in translation, and for all its silliness it has a light funniness to it which other portions of the film could do with – and because Helena Bonham Carter is so brilliant, that makes this scene just a little bit more special.
My favourite moment for Natalie in Black Swan is that emotional phone call she makes to her mother early in the film, but it’s not the part of the film that stands out for me. As much as I was troubled by the potential nomination for Mila Kunis, Portman responds well to her in the film – even if incidentally. That moment where Nina begins to transform, as she returns home in fervour and her mother is so discomfited asking – “Where’s my sweet girl?”, and Nina responds, “She’s gone.” It seems to be a moment of Aronofsky doing too much, but it works. Hershey is Portman’s best scene partner, and for all of its obviousness that scenes work brilliantly.
Blue Valentine
The way that Blue Valentine is created it thrives on an undulating plot that’s not the typical rise and fall as we see one harrowing moment after another. In that way it’s difficult to single out actual scenes, but it’s hard not to be impressed by the confrontation that occurs when Dean visits Cindy at the hospital. It’s uncomfortable to watch these two people who’ve grown so far apart – both of them frustrated with their situations. And, Cianfrance never adjudges blame to either party so as they argue in that glass room we’re left watching the train wreck occur with empathy for both parties.
There are a number of moments in Easy A that hit just the right note, and I’m immediately moved to consider any scene where Stanley Tucci, Patricia Clarkson or Lisa Kudrow appear on screen. However, at the end of the day Easy A is about a star being born (i.e. Emma Stone) and it makes sense that the most lucid moment of comedy occurs because of her. That fateful party where she and her gay best friend get it on emerges as one of the funniest scenes of the year. Stone works wonderfully with Dan Byrd (so good in Cougar Town) and though the moment in itself is not refreshingly innovative it’s a perfect encapsulation of Easy A building itself on old comedic paradigms and achieving something good.
I think of The Fighter as the ensemble film that wasn’t. The ensemble work well together, but not as good as they could if they had more time to actually work together. So, that moment in the living room where we get all the important players – Alice, George, Micky, Dicky, the sisters – to discuss Micky’s future succeeds on so many levels. For me, Melissa Leo doesn’t exactly thrive in this register (though her “MTV Girl” line is funny). The scene is all Amy for me, but even more than anyone taking credit for being the best it’s brilliant watching them all play off each other – these are the scenes where Russell’s direction is most impressive.
For Colored Girls tends to be so episodic at times I balk at the idea of choosing individual scenes to fête since everyone is trying hard. When it comes to delivery of the monologues, Loretta Devine with the striking musicality in her voice wins but the most arresting for me (including that harrowing death scene) occurs as the last act begins. Whoopi suffers a bit from a very stilted character, but I do think that her scenes with Thandie Newton (best in show) are brilliant and that moment where the two women meet to deliver their pieces – almost in counterpoint – is excellently done. Potently, theatrical and it’s the moment that best elucidates my belief that For Colored Girls is a musical film with lyrics and no melodies. The contrast between the two women is beautiful to watch, as is the scene itself.
I will continue to applaud Nolan’s vision in Inception even if I don’t really care for it, and on a technical level there a number of scenes to pick from. The thing is, even though Cotillard is playing Mal as memories of Cobb she’s still the one serving up the most significant emotional quotient, and that scene of hers as she loses control of the life she’s living – and ends it – remains as the strongest moment of the narrative. Emotional context is still not his strongpoint, but everything combines in that moment to make some beautiful and terrible to watch – and Marion Cotillard is remarkable, no?
I tend to be indecisive when considering if I perform Olivia Williams or Kim Cattrall in The Ghost Writer (the former is the only one being seriously, fêted). Still, even if I’m uncertain as to whom I prefer it’s difficult to deny the ability Williams has to hold ones attention. Every moment where she and McGregor take up the screen seem to be the film at its highest, but that specific conversation the two have by the fireplace. It seems so incidental, though Williams is carving her character long before we even know it’s necessary. And Polanski (beautifully lacking in any sort of pretentiousness directs it so subtly). It all adds to the greatness of The Ghost Writer.
Choledenko and Blumberg are never afraid to approach the obvious in their attempts to make The Kids Are All Right comedic and though the moment might seem banal I can’t resist that conversation where Jules and Nic confront Laser about his sexuality. There are a number of things I find significant about this scene – the most obvious of which is the fact that Moms are on completely different wavelengths to their children and of course Jules’ explanation of internal and external realisations of sexuality is a perfect setup for her liaison with Paul. And of course, everyone is acting so well. Julianne, so authentic in her laidback persona without ever being clichéd, Annette so ready to underscore her resentment for Clay and Hutcherson (this is probably his best scene) – confused and then affronted. I love his line reading of, “You thought I was gay?” And then the responses – “No! Of course not.” Hilarious.
It’s the oddest thing, The King’s Speech doesn’t seem like the type of film that’d improve on repeat viewings – but it is. There’s that specific scene when Lionel and Bertie end up having their inevitable spat and he turns up with the Queen in tow at Bertie’s house for an important lesson. There’s so much going on there that I appreciate. On the obvious of levels, it’s the perfect encapsulation of the relationship between the two men being the mainstay of the film and then there’s Bonham Carter’s perfectly played Queen who I end up gleaning so much from on repeat viewings. She’s no Constance Trentham when it comes to snobbery, but she’s never quite at ease in the colonial house and her meeting with Mrs. Logue is a perfect example of such, regardless of her inhibitions, though. She’s always the diplomat. It’s the sort of delicate humouring decorating (but not necessarily shrouding) more sensitive issues.
I’ll always bear just the slightest grudge against The King’s Speech for not having enough of Helena Bonham Carter in it, I still prefer the idea of his marriage to his friendship with Logue – but I digress. The mystery of that marriage, though, is never really addressed in the film. Seiberg, however, does a fine job of slipping a nice bit when Firth’s Bertie is at his lowest point. Helena has always struck me as the type of actor who works best when playing against someone else and her chemistry with Firth is palpable. The King’s Speech is so diverting in its lightness that the profundity of the title of King sort of sneaks up on you a bit so that when Bertie himself is faced with all the pressure it’s difficult not to be moved by him – and by the Queen’s coy way of deflecting it.
In its way Mother & Child is made up of very good moments, and very bad ones. Choosing one is a difficult, and Naomi’s elevator scene and Annette’s breakdown come to mind – but they all seem too slight for inclusion which makes me return to that first scene where Lucy and her husband meet the mother of their child to be. Epps seems unnecessarily harsh sometimes in her characterisation – but it’s a nice moment watching Washington’s Lucy deal with the dilemma of being interviewed for a child she wants so terribly. It’s one of the strongest points of her performance, and one of the film’s most eloquent.
Dividing Rabbit Hole into scenes is difficult because Lindsay-Abaire is going for an effortless transition from scene to scene. There are two Dianne Wiest scenes that emerge as brilliant – and the chemistry between her and Kidman is well done. The moment where she tells Becca about dealing with grief is beautifully done, but it’s the lighter moment where she tells her about her friend Mrs. Bailey that I always return to. Remember: Wiest is a notable comedienne – all her three Oscar nominations infer as much. It’s a monologue of sorts, and it’s her moment and it’s one of the ways that Rabbit Hole balances drama with humour so adeptly. The writing, Mitchell’s understated direction, Kidman’s reaction and Wiest’s perfect comedic timing all coalesce for a great moment.
I’ll admit, that for the first half of Scott Pilgrim vs the World my favourite parts are those with the ensemble – where Cera just blends in, but that first big party where we first meet Ramona succeeds because Cera is doing such good work here. Webber, Plaza, Pill all surround him but it’s Wright’s direction and that oafish charm of Cera that sells it – and that first meeting with Winstead – “Am I dreaming?” is a perfect example of the glorious ridiculousness of Scott Pilgrim vs the World.
With its root being the friendship ties between Eduardo and Mark that entire sequence where Zuckerberg’s lawyers uncover Eduardo’s “animal cruelty” is brilliantly played. It’s my favourite moment for Garfield, and it begins perfectly in the board room. Everyone is playing well – Rashida Jones is being her usual winsome self, and the actors playing the lawyers are on point and Fincher is shifting between periods so astutely all backed by Sorkin’s dialogue. And of course there’s that cinch where Eduardo reveals Mark cheating for his final exam, “Oops” – perfect.
I’ll return with my top ten favourite scenes some later in the week, but for now – which of these fifteen impress you most?
In its way Agora is just the sort of film that makes sense on my list of personal favourites. I’m as keenly aware of its issues as any of its detractors – well, except for Jose, even I can’t defend it from the tongue-lashing he gave it – but Amenabar’s pseudo-historical saga appeals to me not only on a social level but artistically. True, its technical achievements are impressive, and maybe there’s something in it being the first A (well, A-) that I gave this year. At its strongest moments, though, no other drama this year – not even The Social Network – is able to marry intelligence with entertainment so sumptuously. And, I’ll always credit it for making me appreciate the ellipse which I was never half as interested in when I was actually studying Technical Drawing. 
I’m anxiously waiting what Michôd’s next cinematic encounter entails. Perhaps, Animal Kingdom shouldn’t work as well as it does – and a throwaway description of it I heard (an Australian, small-scale GoodFellas) made me wonder if it’s all really as rote as that. Still, when it comes to being seamless in blending acting, direction and writing Michôd’s work here is astounding. It approaches the bleak issues with a freshness – that’s not delusion – and manages to suggest interesting things about potential archetypes with smart profundity.
Detractors seem taken with the notion that the work is not laudable because the story is a normal suburban one with lesbians – no kidding. The very point of The Kids Are All Right IS the rote ways of suburban life, Paul is a mere plot point (albeit a nice, juicy one) and Choledenko knows to create the tone that makes the film dependant on its familial issues and not its LGBT themes. It’s a bit insular to boil it down to holding merit for the way that that ends up being so progressive; its strongest asset is its non-judgemental attitude toward its entire cast. It’s the sort of film that’s a bit like an arbitrary voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of a group of flawed individuals.
When you get past the fact that The King’s Speech isn’t what you expect it to be, the tale that Hooper crafts is comforting in its stylish sedateness. The amalgamation of everything that makes it thoroughly British (even if in an ostensibly formulaic way) is stimulating to watch as Hooper and Seiberg use the conventionality to create something subtly imaginative. I don’t care if it’s technical aspects have (unfortunately) turned into something of a joke recently, but it’s the sort of subtle camerawork and editing that’s always impressive and what’s more it emerges as one of the most well paced cinematic experiences of the year.
One of the strangest things about Rabbit Hole is how much we manage to learn in a mere hour and a half. Neither Lindsay-Abaire nor Mitchell is willing to waste time on the extraneous and they make each minute contribute to a consistent movement forward that’s deliberate (though, never forced) and organic always in its progress. I’d never call it overwrought because despite its emotive potential there’s a sort of sheen preventing it from being too interested in the hypersensitivity of dealing with death and more involved in the detachment Becca and Howie feel from the world. Mitchell echoes it in his directing, and Lindsay-Abaire ensures that it wraps up concisely – but not with an obtrusive ribbon to tie it off.
No movie this year puts a perpetual smile on my face as much as Scott Pilgrim vs the World (yes, I’m in lesbians with it). It’s continually daring without any arrogance about it, and in its somewhat single-minded desire to entertain us it never robs its characters of their integrity. A videogame geek, I am not, but I feel affronted on its behalf for being relegated to mere “dabbling” in technological innovations. Wright’s dedication to story and characters triumphs over a number of the more non-comic films of the year, and he approaches his subjects with a dearth of pretentiousness that even more of them could benefit from.
Amidst the barrage of Oscar prognosticating and choosing sides that’s happening online, it’s difficult to remember where your allegiances lay in the first place. The staunchest of supporters for The Social Network supporters have turned into a mean crowd, but that won’t make me waver in my appreciation for it. Rabbit Hole wins in the succinct department, but The Social Network emits a smoothness to it that’s never smarmy – no matter. Fincher’s directing style is not exactly personal, but his intent on coalescing technical aspects with the insularity of his protagonist is impressive. Add that to the fact that for every pithy bit of dialogue that makes you start, there’s an equally intelligent scene that makes you think.
FINALISTS: The Ghost Writer (review) tops my other list, and true there’s a delicate divide preventing me from surrendering completely to it. Despite the slightest of reservations, though, Polanski’s control over the story is excellent and a seamless screenplay merging with a talented cast makes for a rousing, intelligent but always entertaining thriller; Somewhere is a more dubious choice – ostensibly, I suppose – but I might even intimate that it’s my favourite piece from Coppola. It depends resolutely on her ability to retract the sometimes officious hand of the director and let the film just exist in its natural state culminating in an indolence that’s not overly stylised but still sophisticated and most important emotionally motivating.
Who’d have thought that Colin Firth would be the thespian to reach here before his contemporaries like Neeson, Branagh and Fiennes – but, that’s Oscar for you. He gets an immediate second shot at gold over last year’s loss, and he’s not likely to lose. 
Logically, I shouldn’t be getting any sort of headache with the prediction for this category because Natalie has sort of swept through the season, well the majors anyway – but I’m still not absolutely certain that she’s the indisputable winner. Hell, it’s possible that I’ll see her on stage with the winning statuette and still doubt the veracity of her frontrunner status – I’m sort of ridiculous like that. I was depending on the BAFTA to give Annette the statue, and prove my theory whereby the Annette/Natalie race would turn into a converse version of the Marion/Julie race (both win Globes, one wins SAG and the other wins BAFTA) – but alas, I was wrong. Logically, if Annette had any hope you’d expect her to take at least one major from Natalie – but other than the surprise British Critics' win (which isn’t exactly a major) she's got nothing. And she still lost the BAFTA, so there’s no proof that she has the British voting bloc behind her.
The logic that because deems Toy Story III an adaptation is ridiculous – being a sequel does not make it an adaptation. All five of the nominees are in consideration for Best Picture, but this is essentially looking like a one-horse race.
This one is more interesting. I’m not the biggest fan of Inception, although I can appreciate that it has its fan, but I find it difficult to understand how it won the WGA (over Cholodenko and Blumberg).
There are those rare moments where Amenabar seems to lose sight of his general objectivity, but at the height of its success Agora really is an objective attempt at the historical epic. The destruction of the library emerges as the centrepiece for the film in more ways than one. On the technical aspect, the scope of it is peerless. The production design, visual effects and cinematography are all essential in establishing that pandemonium as Hypatia and her lot make their attempts to salvage the “important” works. Then, there are the smaller thematic arcs – like the parting of ways between Davus and Hypatia. It’s the solitary moment where Weisz’s Hypatia is not calm, elucidating just how much she feels for knowledge. It’s a perfect coalescing of technical and emotional aspects and easily Amenabar’s strongest portion of Agora. 
One of my sisters said, of this scene, that it’s so good because each of the five actors is doing some of their best acting – and it’s true. It’s Annette’s scene, yes, but it’s not hers alone. From the onset of Nic’s attempts to be chummy with Paul, you already get the feeling that he’s a bit uncertain of himself and Huthcerson and Wasikowska’s facial responses to the opening of “Blue” is perfectly played. And, then, there’s Julianne – so guilty, and so vulnerable. The thing, it’s not just the acting (and writing) though – editor Jeffrey Werner and Cholodenko know just when to cut the shots and it all leads into Nic’s discovery of the hair. Everything works just brilliantly. 
From the moment that Elias Coteas’s policeman raps on the door in Let Me In, with Owen inside you know that things are going to go awry. Reeves is a master of atmosphere, which is his most significant calling card in making the tension so palpable in Let Me In and the entire ensuing scene works because of the richness of the atmosphere. That doesn’t lessen the profundity of Kodi-Smit McPhee’s work, though. It’s his strongest scenes, and although it’s mostly a reactionary one he’s excellent. He has the difficult task of portraying that sort of bathos you’d expect from a child in this situation, and his aghast response to the Police’s death is one of genuine fear and sadness, and it’s all aided by Giacchino’s fine score.
Is it possible to resist the epic brilliance of that final battle in Scott Pilgrim vs the World? It’s the climax of the film, the one those videogame geeks (the film’s ostensible target audience) would have been waiting for, that scene that’s unashamedly indicative of its roots and you sort of get the feeling that Wright, too, can’t wait for this moment to toss out all his tricks. And, usually, you’d think that tricks don’t necessitate goodness, but it’s all part of the atypical way of Scott Pilgrim vs the World – the tricks are an essential part of it. Watching how Scott approaches the single situation (before and after) and seeing how his approaches lead to the domino effect of reactions from the characters is fine example of Wright ensuring that his moral themes hit home without being maudlin. Perfect.
I still maintain that Shutter Island would have been a much better film (albeit an unsatisfactory adaptation of the novel) if it ended here. Even if you’re not aware of what is going to happen, you know that the film is building up to a specific moment – this being it, and everything good about Scorsese and DiCaprio (as far as Shutter Island is concerned) occurs here. The atmosphere is potent, but not overwrought and Michelle Williams so just excellent opposite DiCaprio here. It’s a true credit to DiCaprio that he manages to make this moment play out without undermining the necessary emotional connection.
Then there’s our first meeting with that “awesome sperm donor”. Me and my mind can’t help going to dirty places when they start in on their tongue story (but they’re begging for it) and like everything in The Kids Are All Right we’re being prepared for every major plot point. Joni and her latent resentment of Nick, Paul and Jules potential bonding the vague discomfort of everyone – especially Paul. It’s one of the reasons I singled this out as the best ensemble, they’re always playing off each other – and so excellently, too.
Because The Social Network is so inextricably linked with the personality of its protagonist – ostensibly cold, vaguely mysterious, sometimes confusing – it’s essential that Garfield’s Eduardo is there to offer a semblance of balance. That’s why, despite the fact that Eisenberg is the film’s best actor, the film’s strongest scene (in my eyes) depends on Garfield just as much – more, perhaps. The way that The Social Network is written ensures that it’s all building up to that scene where Eduardo and Mark part ways, and you can’t fault Sorkin for pithy dialogue – it’s required here. There’s something great about that “lawyer up, asshole” line that’s all sorts of awesome.
It’s not that Animal Kingdom is lacking in a wealth of strong scenes featuring the entire ensemble (both meetings in the café, for example) but when I think of the strongest moments in the film I can’t help but return to a moment that should play as just the slightest bit superfluous, but never fails to rouse my attention – Craig’s death. It’s possible that it’s because Stapleton gives my favourite performance of the film that makes me even more appreciative of this scene, but everything leading up to it – Craig’s argument with his friend, his growing paranoia and then the threatening advance of the police is proof not only of Stapleton’s performance but Michôd’s fine direction. 
I find it hilarious that my favourite fight scene in The Fighter has little to do – directly – with Micky’s boxing career: Charlene vs the Seven Sisters from hell. The scene really begins at Alice’s home as she and her daughters prepare to wreak havoc on Charlene for derailing their plans with Micky. From the moment they get into that beat-up car you know that what’s imminent will be marked by that deliberate dry humour looming over some of the strongest moments of the film. Amy, so very fearless here, is brilliant as her Charlene clashes with the sisters. Russell is so smart, though, and he knows that the scene holds more importance than just the hilarity to be gotten from the hillbilly antics.
Even though Nicole, easily, gets best-in-show citations in Rabbit Hole, I still like to think of its ensemble as the heart of the drama – which makes that bowling-alley birthday of Izzie such a perfect scene to encapsulate all that I love about the movie. Teller and Oh (both good) don’t show up here, it’s all about the actual family. Blanchard, forever on the sidelines with her subtleties, is so good when she reacts to the gifts and Becca watching Izzie respond is a good example of Nicole being completely in tune with her character’s inclinations. I love that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it bit of conversation that Howie and Nat have (I wonder what their relationship is like) and of course that final blow-up between mother and daughter. Wiest and Kidman are so wonderful opposite each other.
Like all that wine Nic keeps ingesting, Cholodenko’s work in The Kids Are All Right gets better with time. Even though I’d admit that subtle would probably be the incorrect adjective to attribute to The Kids Are All Right Choledenko’s work is so good here because it’s not officious. Perhaps, because she co-writes it, she’s especially aware of the mood that the script calls for and she directs it in turn with sudden spurts that are not jarring as she establishes scene, character and setting with a style that’s current (though, not quite modernist) and always conscious of the viewer’s attention span, without being pandering.
There’s something dangerously close to posturing in the almost funereal which Fincher (and company) decide to ground The Social Network, but in all honesty I don’t mind it. It works – brilliantly too, I might add – because Fincher has always been adept at reconciling themes with directorial choices. Just like he was able to discern the appropriateness of the mock-epic style for Benjamin Button he manages a taut, hypersensitivity here that makes more and more sense as this gloomy (but not repulsive) tale unfolds. It’s all part of the wonderful irony (similarly evinced in the script) that this “social” network seems so insular.
Sometimes I wonder if what could be perceived as Michôd’s occasional apathy to the situations affecting his character is a detriment to the overall narrative, but like his protagonist J – an ostensible indifference is not proof of disinterest. It’s difficult to single out key moments and say, “X scene was well directed”, but that’s the way Michôd knows it should be. I’m not a fan of the word, but there's some organic in the way that it unfolds (ironic, considering the very unnatural bloodshed ensuing). More than even Choledenko, I’d say that Michôd is the director this year that seems to hold the best interest of his characters at heart – for better, for worse.
Together with Lindsay-Abaire Mitchell succeeds in turning this story of stagnant grief into a thoroughly cinematic piece. He doesn’t smother us with the eccentricities to convey the cinematic nature but simply lets if flow as naturally as possible. One trap that directors working on stage to screen adaptations often fall into is the tendency is to over-cinematise their films, but Mitchell is shrewder. He doesn’t avoid the narrowness of the theatre but uses that same closeness to create a cinematic perspective of characters bound by their emotions.
Well, turns out Polanski hasn’t lost it. I wasn’t an unabated fan of The Pianist, and I’m not even an unabated fan of The Ghost Writer but Polanski’s direction – though, not exactly vociferous – is impossible to ignore. He’s a master at thrill, that doesn’t sacrifice cleverness in its quest and The Ghost’s journey unfurls with that same interest in being thrilling, occasionally mocking but always conscious of the story and what’s to come. It’s a prime example of the sort of subtle direction, that’s still noticeable but stands up to more scrutiny on the second and third viewings.
The term banner year seems so splotchy, implicitly suggesting that all previous years hold little worth – but it’s been a banner year for Bening for me. I sort of thought her one-two punch in 2006 (Running With Scissors, Mrs. Harris) was unbeatable but watching her play Karen and Nic almost like extensions of the same person – but then at times completely opposite makes me even more impressed by her talent. It seems like way too much of a disservice to Bening’s talent to lump Nic – or Karen – together with all the strong women she’s played (Julia, Deidre, Carolyn). Their strength doesn’t make them identical, and it’s strange – both women have trouble being emotive, but Annette decides to establish them by decidedly different character tics. Karen develops in uneven bursts goaded by her insecurities whereas Nic’s security becomes her crutch as she finds that it’s not as impenetrable as it seems. Even the manner in which they break is not identical, Karen for all her faux-coldness yearns for the ability to be completely emotive and when she cries it’s with complete surrender. Nic is uncomfortable with that loss of control, and even her tears exist as a sort of reluctant emotion. True, I do prefer her work as Nic (if only because the character is so much richer), but it’s a double helping of brilliance that I think is laudable. (Highlight: “So Blue” and Breakdown with Sofia)
I’ve always thought of Nicole in the same way that I think of Cate Blanchett – actors most discernable because of the emotion they put into their voice, but Becca is significant not because of the line readings but because of all the expressions that she has. She reacts to everything that happens on screen – her eye-rolls, her steely gazes, her silent scoffs – she’s never “off” and Nicole never loses sight of that always reacting, however subtly, to everything occurring around her. It’s difficult to play favourites and hold up someone as her best scene partner – she’s so go$od with them all. The understated tension opposite Aaron, the filial spats with Tammy, the brilliant chemistry with Wiest and her tentativeness opposite Teller is lovely to watch. She gives as much as she gets and though her career is so littered with goodies I can’t decide if it’s my favourite or not, its goodness is undeniable. (Highlight: Bowling Alley Birthday)
Every actor has precepts that work for them, and though Jules is nowhere near as morose as the prototypical Jules character her constant interest in pronounced facial expressions is the ultimate reason why I’m so impressed with her here. I hate judging her against Annette since the performances are ultimately so symbiotic and sometimes even in tandem with the other. They play well off each other, but more than Annette Julianne plays well off actual scenes. Because Nic is so controlled Annette isn’t always given the opportunity to respond immediately (facially) to situations – so Julianne must, and that sort of naked physicality is something she delivers with and because Jules and Nic are so affected by each other these expressions are most pronounced when Nic is at the forefront of the scene. Thus, when she’s actually presented with the opportunity to “lead” a scene – her twitchiness is manifested, it’s not necessarily a twitchiness borne of being discomfited but one of being disaccustomed. (Highlight: “Marriage is hard.”)
The role of Hypatia seems to be the sort of exemplary woman that seems perfect for Rachel Weisz. Weisz plays Hypatia with a consistent disregard for her personal appearance, as beautiful as she is – and there’s that subtle hint that perhaps that plays a role in her power over everyone – she never plays Hypatia as a “beautiful” woman. Moreover, she brings that sort of resonance to the dialogue where you’re moved to think that her every word is something seismic. Amenabar is fortunate that she plays the role so effectively, because it’s her devotion to the character that allows (with the slightest of physical inclinations) us to believe that things like ellipses are capable of being as astonishing as Hypatia believes. (Highlight: sketchy...each time she speaks, perhaps?)
