2009 in Review: The Art of Making Art…

...is putting it together. 
                  

Films on forms of artistic ventures are a dime a doze, but I love them anyways. We have cinema to thank for giving us glimpses of so many famous people – the literary kind, sometimes painters, singers so often and this year though it was not quite as abundant it was satisfying. The film that took it the furthest had to be Marshall’s Nine. Nine took it even further than its musical source. In fact the entire Act Two is amended that Nine (the movie) turns into a film about making itself, it’s dangerously tongue-in-cheek and not typical musical territory. A psychological musical? Haven’t heard that one before. Above all else, though, Nine was about the difficulty of creating. In fact Guido’s plight can probably be understood by Jeff Bridges’ Bad Blake. He’s washed up, Guido is too, in a way. So is Adam Sandler’s George Simmons. Bridges is obviously the most sympathetic of the lot. What’s interesting is that each of these artists – the comedian, the singer, the director – tries to reach out to women. The reason Funny People falls flat though is that this very reaching out, though featuring an in form Leslie Mann, seems like an afterthought. The Soloist’s Nathaniel Ayers is not even as lucky. He’s not just experiencing a transition; he’s at the end of his line. I’m a bit surprised no one went for Fox’s portrayal, though it’s not my favourite of the year (not even close) – it’s better than at least two of the Supporting Actors nominated at…, but I won’t go there. The Soloist’s problem is that I’m not sure if it’s Downey Jr.’s journalist story of Fox’s demented man. Still, The Soloist is much better than it’s given credit for, even it’s just a bit too spotless.

                               

Whereas these three men are grappling with losing their gift John Keats isn’t even sure he has one. It is unfortunate that all brilliant men couldn’t have experienced the brevity their work has had, and John Keats has always been one of the more depressing ones. Next to Charlotte Bronte, he’s probably the writer of the era who least realised the future profundity of their work. Bright Star isn’t really Keat’s story – it’s Fanny Brawne’s – but he is imperative to the success of Bright Star, and Ben Whishaw epitomises all that is John Keats and yet, resists falling into the clichéd traps of the “sensitive man”. Still, I can understand Keats’s plight – like Wordsworth his style was atypical to the age. And on that note we can understand the plight of Julia Child. Whatever my reservations of Streep’s Child may be Julie & Julia works as a satisfying tale of conquering personal demons, of sorts. It’s funny noting how Child finds it so hard to find a place for herself, of course I knew nothing of the woman prior to the film – but it’s interesting note how success is mountain climbed and not a prize discovered. I suppose that makes it all the more worth while.

              

We had a singer, a comedian, a musician, a director, a poet and a chef. Which of these creators impressed you most?

Signing Off...

By nature, I am an obsessive soul. Thus, whenever I get interested in something my appreciation of it is not often tempered and usually veers into the neurotic. Neurotic is probably an ideal way to describe my relationship with the Academy Awards. Even though the actual results were less than perfect that first time [re picture] I was hooked from the beginning. There was a time I could list [from memory] Oscar winners in the major categories from the mid-seventies onwards. I told you – neurotic. Even though I’ve gotten wiser in the missteps of the Academy I still [inadvertently sometimes] end up regarding that day in Spring as the culmination of all things cinematic. This year, however, the nominees have not even been announced and I’ve already become disillusioned, I fear.

             

The state of the race [a word more pertinent than we realise] had exasperated me before it even began. The fêting of Meryl Streep from the get-go already annoyed me. Sometimes it really doesn’t help not being a fan of Streep because she is the most ubiquitous actress [actor] at the moment. Nevertheless, despite my general my general apathy towards her I wouldn’t deny excellence if I see it. I'm always ready to recognise a good performance form her, which is why Julie & Julia disgusted me so much. Of course all these adjectives – best, excellent &etc – are completely subjective, but the only thing Julie & Julia did was confuse me as to the validity of its place in the Oscar race. I’ve never been fond of the accented Streep preferring her more subtle performances [her Clarissa Vaughn remains as one of my favourite portrayals of the last two decades]. Of course, she’s accented quite often but Julie & Julia regurgitated memories of Bridges of Madison County a film that only makes me see red. I finally realised my issue with Streep when I read this lucid article on the woman. It gets a bit snarky, but is a startlingly good read. It’s not that her Julia Child is a horrid performance. But, chameleon or not as someone who knows absolutely nothing of Julia Child her performance made me cringe at points. I couldn’t help but imagine the more unaffected Sigourney Weaver in the role. What really irked me was the residual belief that Meryl had been robbed of a third Oscar, this entitled to this win for Nora Ephron’s diverting comedy. It’s as if they had forgotten that La Streep has two Oscars – the entire debate of her comeuppance being extinguished by woman after woman was lost on me. What turned my disappointment in the Best Actress race into the deepest dredges of disgust was the addition of a certain Sandra Bullock. I’ve never bore ill will towards Ms. Bullock – her work in countless comedies from the inspired Ms. Congeniality and While You Were Sleeping to even the dubious Two Weeks Notice has always charmed me in their placid way. I saw The Blind Side late in the game, and although the term abject horror would be an over-exaggeration of my response it wasn’t far from it. I couldn’t even write a proper review the thought of the film annoyed me so much. Of course I’d prefer Streep’s flawed but superior Julia to Bullock’s uninspired Leigh Ann, but the very fact that that’s the end all of it is quite dismal.

                                                      

I’m yet to see the heavyweights for the Actors’ race. Bridges and Firth are not my favourite actors, but with the good roles I’m willing to board either train; but I can’t help feeling cynical and thinking that perhaps Bridges is not being rewarded for a [possibly] good performance in Crazy Heart but for lifetime achievement. Noble perhaps, but still annoying. When people like Ben Foster and even Sam Rockwell are ignored at ceremony after ceremony while Morgan Freeman – a man I admire without fail – can be nominated for his unimaginative Nelson Mandela only puzzles me, but is nothing compared to George Clooney’s moderately charming but lifeless Ryan in Up In the Air. But then I realise that with so many celebrating these pieces it’s not so much as unoriginality from the awards’ ceremonies than actual belief that these performances are the best of the year, which is even more disconcerting. If Freeman gets love for coasting in Invictus, why not Johnny Depp for Public Enemies?

Mo’Nique’s Precious win has many citing it as one of the imminent saving graces of the next award ceremonies and with her eclectic Mary Jones it wouldn’t be completely undeserved. But that category has become so auto-tuned that voters just seem to throwing the usual suspects together and ignoring quieter gems with potential to disturb the waters – Samantha Morton, Marion Cotillard [not only for Nine] on some days even Patricia Clarkson. I’m not saying that all of these women trump Mo’Nique, perhaps none of them do. I realise the ball’s completely in her court, and since I’m an undeterred fan of the comedian I don’t call foul. I’m worried that I’m missing something when Anna Kendrick keeps appearing on so many best-of lists, Seriously? We're touthing this performance? But, I won’t go there.  Again.

          

The race seems to have come down to Avatar and The Hurt Locker and scores have cried foul at Avatar’s Golden Globe win. Not me. I’m still undecided as to which of the two I’d give my vote to, but Cameron’s Avatar has turned into the film I’m rooting for. Not because it’s my favourite film of the year. It’s not. But despite it’s gigantic box-office it’s ironically tuned into the underdog. Someone, I can’t recall who, called it the tendency to hate the popular kid – which Avatar has turned into. I won’t deny the ostensibly potency of The Hurt Locker – it’s probably even more profound for Americans who know its themes all to well. Bigelow and Boal have crafted something wonderful, but the relegating of Avatar to some strange names “video-game movie”, “Pocahontas redux”, “stilted dialogue”, "stodgy acting" and on and on and on confuses me. Some people just don’t like it. That’s understandable, but I’ve never been a film apologist yet I can’t recall the ludicrously horrid dialogue of Cameron. I’m sure it wasn’t Oscar winningly quotable. But since when has Best Picture turned into a screenplay award? I understand the correlation between the two, but I can’t help calling foul when Avatar’s screenplay is advertised as one of the worst this year. But that’s probably one in the long list of things eluding my poor brain this Oscar season.

I’m signing off from this season. I doubt I’ll continue my four year long tradition of skipping school to hear the nominations live [embarrassing], and I’m definitely not inclined to join in predictions, though it’s always fun to read others. I’ve already committed to the LAMB’s 2010 production of Devouring the Oscars and will be writing on a Best Picture nominee. I’d love to see an off-kilter choice like Bright Star, The Messenger or Coraline. I’d prefer not to write on Invictus, Up In the Air, Inglourious Basterds or Precious. I don’t want to write a bashing post since nominations should be a happy thing. I’m sure at least a few of the nominees will be pleasing. Watching the Golden Globes though, I couldn’t ignore the number of sad [and sometimes angry faces] – Lee Daniels, Jason Reiteman, Quentin Tarantino, Jeremy Renner all looked peeved throughout. I wouldn’t have been backing many of them but I realised that each of the nominees want to win and deserved or not I wish them the best of luck. Being nominated has become less estimable and I can understand their apparent melancholies. But as far as Oscar is concerned, I've lost the drive. Let's hope next year is better...