Sad news today that writer Nora Ephron has passed away at the age of 71. Despite being a highly regarded journalist and novelist in a career spanning decades, she remains probably best known for her work as a screenwriter, particularly of the romantic comedy persuasion. The films, as she herself admitted, were occasionally hit and miss, but she has the distinction of writing two of the definitive romcoms, not just of the late 80s/early 90s, but – without wishing to slip into hyperbole – arguably of all time. They are the Affair To Remember-referencing Sleepless inSeattle, and, of course, When Harry Met Sally.
The latter is one of my absolute favourites (I’m listening to Harry Connick Jr’s gorgeously smooth soundtrack as I write) and here’s why:
I have laughed out loud every single time I have watched it, since ‘discovering’ it on video in my early teens to watching it on a hen weekend a few weeks ago. The faked orgasm scene and it’s punchline (is there anyone left who doesn’t know that was a cameo by director Rob Reiner’s mum?) are firmly embedded in film history and have made a film-tourist hotspot of Katz's Diner in NYC. There are so many quotable lines (“You made a woman miaow?”) – before we even get to Billy Crystal’s perfectly romantic speech at the end (I still really hope one day I get to hear a “Harry”). I don’t know if Crystal and Meg Ryan have ever been better, but they damn near get the show stolen from by Carrie Fisher and Bruno Kirby in the supporting best friend roles. It’s set in New York. It offers one of the more realistic portrayals of relationships in the genre. All in all, it nails the romcom formula - staying sweet without becoming sickly, and showcasing its smarts whilst never becoming smug or cynical. To my mind, few films have come close to successfully replicating this in the 23 years since.
Tributes to Ephron’s smart, funny writing with its warm yet sharp voice have poured in all day. All I want to say with this is: Thanks Nora. For Harry and Sally.
Ladies and Gentlemen, live from the Kodak Theater, it's the 84th Academy Awards!
Here's a little red carpet summary to kick things off:
The nominees have smiled politely/grimaced through some inane questions. ABC showed quite a sweet montage with some of the nominees' mums. Bless.
Dresswatch: liking Jessica Chastain and Octavia Spencer so far.
Adlerkuss fashion observation: Gwyneth Paltrow has come dressed as a superhero!
Most charming interviewees: Jean Dujardin, who I want to win even more now. He wants you to know he's not a puppet. I also enjoyed Jason Segel, being all endearing. In other news, Bradley Cooper is sporting a disturbing 'tache.
And now, on with the show!!
3:30 am - Time for the first update:
Billy Crystal opened with the traditional Oscar montage, in which he got a kiss off Clooney. He also appeared as a semi-CG’d Tintin, which was quite disturbing. He then launched into his opening number, which was mildly amusing, though Jonah Hill didn’t seem to dig the weight loss/cupcake joke. Crystal seems to be in safe, business-as-usual mode - possibly after last year’s Hathaway/Franco misfire. He’s also seemingly enjoying a running gag about the impact of Kodak’s bankruptcy on the name of the venue.
Missing from proceedings this year is John Williams’ orchestra – perhaps the music meister is still recovering from his 80th birthday bash the other week. In his place, Slumdog Millionaire's AR Rahmen.
The first awards were a double whammy for Hugo (cinematography and art direction), which could yet clean up in the tech categories. This was followed by an expected and deserved Best Costume win for The Artist, and then Make-Up for The Iron Lady.
Sandra Bullock got possibly the biggest laugh of the night so far for her “German-accented Chinese” joke when presenting Best Foreign Language Film. This went to the favourite, A Separation, from Iran. Director Asghar Farhadi also gave one of the best acceptance speeches so far, touching whilst still making a political statement without much soapboxing.
On to Best Supporting Actress – which saw Christian Bale’s famous wandering accent in cockney mode, and went to the bookie’s favourite Octavia Spencer. She also gave a nice speech, during which she cried AND got a standing ovation, which is “empty your drink” time as per adlerkuss’ rules…
4:10 am - Next update:
We’ve had a Wizard of Oz “focus group” skit, with comedy cameos from Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara – also to be filed under “mildly amusing”.
Film editing saw a surprise win and the first award of the night for Fincher’s The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Cue a genuinely shocked and sweetly awkward acceptance speech.
Sound editing went to Hugo, so that theory is bearing out.
Instead of more random montages, we then got a Cirque du Soleil homage to the Hitchcock, which was actually pretty cool.
Best Documentary (Undefeated – American football) was preceded by a fairly funny Gwyneth Paltrow/Robert Downey Jr skit. This speech was noteworthy for featuring one F-bomb and getting played off (that’s another glass emptied then…)
Best Animation was presented by Chris Rock (always best in small doses) and went to Gore Verbinski’s Rango.
Tonight’s surprising discovery: Emma Stone (<3!) appears to be considerably taller than Ben Stiller. They present Best Visual Effects, another tech win for Hugo. Meanwhile, adlerkuss has reminded me that EVERYONE looks taller than Ben Stiller.
Best Supporting Actor was another expected win for Christopher Plummer – oldest actor ever to win an Oscar, fact fans! And what a gent.
4:30 am:
Music award time! Much as I admire John Williams, I was happy to see Best Original Score go to Ludovic Bource for The Artist.
This was followed by my highlight of the evening so far: Bret Mackenzie, aka one half of Flight of the Conchords, wins Best Song for "Man or Muppet"!!!
Best Adapted Screenplay was a surprise win in my book for the Descendents – I was sure Tinker, Tailor had it in the bag.
The Award for Original Screenplay went to Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris. Damn, I would’ve loved Bridesmaids to get it, but that was a long shot. Still, Woody didn’t even show up!
During another random montage Sacha Baron Cohen made an attempt to explain Borat, in one of my quotes of the evening: “ I just make stuff I would want to watch. And I happen to want to watch some pretty sick stuff”
5:00 am:
The Oscars for Best Shorts were presented by the cast of Bridesmaids, via the medium of knob jokes.
Live Action Short went to The Shore, from Northern Ireland. Documentary Short went to Saving Face, while the Animation award went to The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore – a lovely little treat, up over on adlerkuss’ page waiting to be checked out.
I hereby resolve to watch more short films.
Best Director goes to… Micheal Hazanavicius for The Artist! Good speech, good accent, good glasses, good job!
There now follows a brief interlude for Meryl Streep to talk about the Governor's Awards, and then the "In Memorium" section.
Things
are drawing to a close and we’re building up to the Big Three. For what it’s
worth, I think Billy Crystal has done a pretty good job. Nothing mind-blowing,
but not too many cringey moments either.
Best Actor goes to Jean Dujardin, as expected, but it's still a very deserved win.
Best
Actress goes to Meryl Streep, so no surprise there. While I’m sure it’s also a
deserved win for her (despite having not seen The Iron Lady), I was slightly
hoping for an upset in this category – maybe Michelle Williams or Rooney Mara.
Incidentally, Meryl was obviously testing the “if you want to win an Oscar,
dress as an Oscar” theory. And at least she acknowledged that she can’t get
really get away with the “Ohmygod I’m so surprised” schtick anymore, and seemed
genuinely emotional at the end.
And,
again as expected, Best Picture goes to THE ARTIST!! I’ve already said I think
this is an extremely deserving win. Expect plenty of “Silence is golden”
headlines in today’s papers.
And of course, Uggie the dog made the requisite appearance....
So, that's it. Not too many laughs, barely any surprises, but overall an enjoyable watch. Here are my fellow blogger Herr adlerkuss' highlights:
"Plummer, Dujardin, Spencer. GWTDT editing team. Best dressed: Gwyneth without cape und Penelope"
My own were FotC's Bret, Christopher Plummer, Ben Stiller and Emma Stone presenting and all The Artist awards.
On that note, good morning, it's been fun, let's do this again!
It's that time of year again... the awards season reaches its climax tonight in LA with what is still the most prestigious film accolade going, critics and claims of bloatedness and irrelevancy be damned!
Girl on Film will be blogging the evening together with adlerkuss, and invites fellow film fanatics / insomniacs to join us on the virtual sofa from 1am CET. adlerkuss has kindly provided an Oscar sweepstakes sheet and drinking game rules over on his page to further enliven the proceedings. Also worth checking out is the Guardian's interactive Oscar voting site, via which you can also watch some of the nominated shorts.
Will The Artist become the first silent movie since Wings to scoop Best Picture? Will Meryl Streep lose both her shoes and swear into the mic? Tune in with us this evening to find out. Or, y'know, read it in tomorrow's papers, but where's the fun in that?
The news last week that cinema-goers in Liverpool demanded a refund after being surprised (and, it would seem, inexplicably horrified) to learn that The Artist was a silent film got me thinking about what the right level of “informed” is when going to see a film. Even if they weren’t ones for poring over reviews and interviews, I find it very hard to believe that these unsatisfied customers were completely unaware of their selected film’s USP when they bought their tickets. At the same time, it is great to be pleasantly surprised when a film exceeds your expectations – if you had any at all. And yet part of the fun of being a movie geek is picking up on pre-release buzz, isn’t it?
At any rate, going in with low expectations proved tricky in my case with The Artist. The film has been slowly building up hype since it debuted at Cannes last spring, and over the past few months has trodden the familiar terrain of winning great reviews on the festival circuit, then tidying up nicely at the Golden Globes just to add fuel to the Oscar buzz, and even an inevitable backlash starting to creep in. Earlier today it had Academy Award nominations confirmed in 10 categories, including four of the majors as anticipated, and is the firm favourite to take Best Picture.
It would undoubtedly be a deserved win. For those still in the dark (or maybe a sound-proof booth?), The Artist tells the tale of fading Hollywood silent movie star George Valentin and his encounters with rising screen starlet Peppy Miller, and the impact the introduction of talkies has on their respective careers. So far, so Singin’ in the Rain. Except, of course, The Artist is black and white, and virtually dialogue-free, relying instead on the very medium whose demise it chronicles. A large part of its appeal is the simple and innocent charm of its old-fashioned setting, yet at the same time certain elements mirror the way things are now – economic downturn, celebrity fetishism, and major technological change. It also feels just a little bit groundbreaking somehow, being so brazenly anachronistic in the age of digital effects and blockbuster sequels. While stylized to a certain extent, it’s by no means a cynical film at all, and also never descends into being twee or saccharine.
Much of the charm also stems from the excellent performances by Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo in the lead roles, both of which have been rewarded with award noms. The relationship between the two is very well-played with affection growing as they run into each other while their star trajectories move increasingly in opposite directions – a plot point neatly encapsulated in a scene where they meet on the stairs at studio HQ, with her – literally – on the way up and him decidedly on his way down. Both have amazingly expressive faces and the chemistry is evident from their characters’ first chance encounter. As much as I am a fan of The Clooney, it would be nice to see Jean Dujardin trump him to take Best Actor – The Academy has previous here in awarding relatively unknown foreign actors (Robert Benigni in 1999) – in addition to the fact that comedy is traditionally chronically overlooked. Dujardin never starts to grate when pulling off a physical comedy style that is particularly difficult to do without over-mugging. He lets his incredibly agile eyebrows do the talking, while, at the risk of trotting out tired old clichés, Bejo truly lights up the screen with her ingénue smile. (As a wee fashion aside, one of the film’s 10 potential Oscars is for costume – a fact entirely justified by the range of gorgeous drop-waist dresses and cloche hats that make up Peppy’s wardrobe. Between this and the upcoming Great Gatsby, Grazia readers can expect a glut of a ‘20s chic’ articles over the next few months…). There’s lots of fun to be had in the supporting roles too, with James Cromwell, John Goodman, and Uggy the dog – who is fast becoming the breakout star. I particularly enjoyed Valentin’s wife, with her withering looks across the breakfast table and passive-aggressive defacing of his headshots.
Ultimately, however, I wasn’t quite as blown away by the experience as the rave reviews had led me to believe I might be. That said, while I might not have wept tears of joys as some reviewers claimed to, it definitely was an enjoyable night out at the cinema, a testament to the simple expression of human emotion as cinema’s unifying language - and the final, joyous dance sequence ensures the audience leaves on a high. It reminded me a little of Slumdog Millionnaire in that respect (and, I should add, in that respect only), and there’s a very good chance The Artist will repeat that film’s trick come February.
