Matt's Big Oscar Challenge Day 472: Dancing in the Dark

When I hear the words dance film I immediately think of feel-good fare like Flashdance or Save the Last Dance which features heroines who suffer emotional issues only to turn their lives around by the end of the film. That description doesn't really apply to the dance film which was nominated at the 2011 ceremony, Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan, which messed with my mind more than Dirty Dancing ever did.

Aronofsky had long been associated with films that took its characters in strange directions whether it be the drug-addicted ensemble in Requiem for a Dream or Hugh Jackman's time-traveller in The Fountain. Aronofsky had made his most traditional film two years earlier with The Wrestler, a film that resurrected the career of Mickey Rourke and featured a rather traditional narrative. However, with Black Swan he was back to his old tricks by playing with the audience's perceptions of the lead character as she slowly descended into madness. The aforementioned protagonist is Natalie Portman's Nina Sayers who at the film's opening is quite a timid ballet dancer albeit one who has been kept isolated by her over-protective mother. Nina's life changes when she is cast as The Swan Queen in her company's new production of Swan Lake, after she bites the lip of director Thomas. Thomas is keen for the rather cautious Nina to embody the qualities of the Black Swan and let herself go a little more. However, as she attempts to put herself into the shoes of a dark demented character her mental health suffers as a result. It doesn't help that the company's newest recruit Lily is seemingly out to get her and from time to time it seems that she wants to steal her identity. The scenes between Lily and Nina are some of Black Swan's most confusing as our heroine imagines several scenarios between her and the new dancer that aren't real at all. In fact Lily's face sometimes changes into that of Nina herself with the resulting hallucinations causing the ballet dancer's ultimate breakdown.

Combining ballet dancing and emotional trauma isn't a new concept in cinema with 1940s Best Picture nominee The Red Shoes treading a similar line. But Black Swan ramps its action up to eleven by portraying the downfall of an initially isolated character. Aronofsky's manipulations of the cinematic medium are great with the use of mirrors and reflective surfaces in Black Swan being particularly impressive. It's clear when a director has a certain vision for his film and Aronofsky certainly seems to have carried it off, especially in the final scenes which depict Nina's downfall into madness. As somebody who's a ballet novice I felt the end sequence that depicted the production of Swan Lake itself were magnificently choreographed and enhanced my understanding of earlier parts of the film. The film's only win came in the Best Actress category with Natalie Portman being rewarded for her performance as the increasingly paranoid Nina. When I first saw the film I wasn't too keen on Portman's turn but upon this viewing I noticed intricacies in her portrayal of Nina that I hadn't seen before. Portman deserves plaudits for simply appearing in every scene but more than that she took her character on a psychological journey that most actresses would've struggled with. I understood every element of Nina's character with Portman excelling both as the sheltered dancer and the more uninhibited Black Swan. There were other fine performances in Black Swan most notably from Mila Kunis, who kept the audience guessing about Lily's motivations till the very end. I think Kunis put in a fabulous job especially seeing as she was playing two characters; the real version of Lily and the one that Nina had imagined in her head. Meanwhile, in only a few scenes, Barbara Hershey managed to turn Nina's mother into possibly the biggest villain of the piece. Although at times it's a bit too pleased with itself, I think Black Swan is a film you can enjoy immensely if you just go with it. Aronofsky is a director that I've always admired and I'm glad that Black Swan was the film that finally put him on the map. Black Swan can be described in a lot of ways but one thing you can definitely say is that it's not your typical dance film.

Next time we complete the challenge with a Best Picture winner that achieved something that only the very first victor in that category had done up to that point.

Matt's Big Oscar Challenge Day 306: Come Fly With Me

Throughout the course of this challenge we've seen plenty of epics with recent offerings including David Lean's final film A Passage to India and the long-winded The Last Emperor. These films tend to look back at a historical event and feature brilliant cinematography, costume design and art direction. Arguably joining their ranks is The Right Stuff, Philip Kauffman's film about the first American men to go to space. The Right Stuff differs from a lot of these other films in that it deals with modern history and combines some wonderful art direction with some brilliant use of editing and sound. Like all epics, The Right Stuff is just over three hours long although I felt the opening sequence could've been significantly trimmed down. This opening sequence looks at a group of test pilots living in the Californian desert whose life is constantly defined by bettering the speeds set by their rivals. A small bar in the area honours those who have given their lives to aviation by hanging up pictures of the fallen pilots. A number of these test pilots are letter selected by government agents to be some of the first American men up in space. President Kennedy is keen to win the space race and is eager to recruit the first astronauts as soon as possible. However, arguably the best pilot in the area, Sam Shepard's Chuck Yeager, isn't given the opportunity to join his colleagues due to his lack of a college degree. Yeager's later attempts to become an astronaut are later documented but, due to a lack of preparation, are completely disastrous. Meanwhile the pilots are joined by John Glenn, a man already known to the media due to his numerous appearances on chat shows. The film then follows the men as they are selected for the programme and face numerous problems along the way. I found one of the most interesting aspects of the film was that the plight of the astronauts' wives was given prominence and their various dilemmas impacted on their husband's missions. Just as the film took a while to get going, it also took it's time ending but by that point I had really gotten to know the characters which was a testament to both Kauffman's direction and his well-written screenplay.

Despite not being a fan of the baggy opening, there's no denying that the black-and-white home movie sequence more than demonstrated that this film would be visually spectacular. Kaufffman's use of full-scale models added an authenticity to The Right Stuff and the visual effects employed throughout were truly spectacular. The culmination of all of these effects was the incredibly tense sequence involving Glenn's ascent into space and the problems he encountered whilst up there. Of all the films I've watched so far, The Right Stuff is the first to take me off the Earth's surface and it was a joy to watch this story of modern technology played out in this way. Unlike many of the epics I've watched so far, The Right Stuff was as interested in getting us to sympathise with the pilots as it was with visual splendour. The conflicting moral codes of these men were dealt with in some detail as was their problems dealing with the media. Kauffman also looks at how the camaraderie between the seven developed over time which was particularly evident in the scene where they helped Glenn stick up for his wife when she refused to open the door to Vice President Johnson. The seven actors who portrayed these men were definitely an ensemble group which probably explains why none of them were nominated for acting awards. This is a shame as I felt both Ed Harris, as Glenn, and Fred Ward as the unfortunate Grissom were worthy of nominations. In fact the only nomination the film received in the acting categories was for Sam Shepard's supporting turn as the unlucky Yeager which is odd seeing as he wasn't on screen too long. The film did triumph in four categories at the award, winning Oscars for sound, sound editing, editing and Bill Conti's original score. But I feel that the Caleb Deschanel's brilliant cinematography was deserving of an Oscar and soon I will reveal why I think The Right Stuff also should've won Best Picture that year.

Talking of Best Pictures the next post will be the final entry in the 1980s section as we take a monumental trip to India.

Matt's Big Oscar Challenge Day 262: Sibling Rivalry

Continuing our look at stars of the 1970s progression into the new decade, we come to the man who won Best Director at the 1978 ceremony. Nine years later he was nominated in the same category again whilst winning Best Original Screenplay as well as a further two awards going to his fellow cast members. The man in question is Woody Allen and the film is Hannah and her Sisters, which starred his then wife Mia Farrow in the titular role and Allen as her ex-husband. When the film begins, Hannah is seemingly in a happy marriage to second husband Elliot but he is secretly harbouring feelings for her younger sister Lee. The film plots the course of their lives over two years in which Elliot and Lee begin an affair before ending it when he can't seem to end his marriage. Hannah's other sister Holly is the most flighty of the trio; a former drug addict she can't seem to hold down any type of career. At times an actress, caterer and finally a writer, Holly's story is one of failed relationships and doomed business ventures. Allen's Mickey also has his own story in which he fears he may have a brain tumour after losing hearing in one hear. Mickey feels that he should have religion in his life but struggles to make sense of anything. Eventually he relents and tries to enjoy life, or as much as any character that Allen plays can. Oddly, for a Woody Allen film, everybody has a fairly happy ending with all three sisters finding love and marriage in some way or another. 

Whilst Annie Hall was definitely Woody Allen's most-respected work I think that Hannah and Her Sisters is a lot more disciplined. I did find Annie Hall to work like a sketch show at times as it was a number of disjointed scenes thrown together with a loose narrative. Hannah and Her Sisters is much more solid and the stories involving the three sisters were incredibly compelling. The love triangle between Hannah, Elliot and Lee was very well-written and all of the twists and turns along the way made sense. Similarly, Holly's struggles to find something to occupy her time and her difficulty to find a man provided a different sort of story to the romantic complications of the main plot. The scenes between the three sisters, in particular one in which they all set down to dine at a restaurant, rang the most true for me as their feelings for each other finally came out. In fact the only part of the plot that I wasn't a fan of was the story involving Mickey, which for the most part acted completely outside of what was happening to Holly, Hannah and Lee. I did seem that Mickey's troubles were just an excuse for Allen to work in some of his material about religion and existence and it wasn't until the last twenty minutes that the character really became part of the plot. In fact, up to this point, I didn't feel the film particularly needed Mickey and would've worked a lot better without him. 

The tradition of the academy awarding actors for starring in Woody Allen films is a long-standing tradition that still exists today, as we saw with Cate Blanchett's win at the weekend. In terms of Hannah and Her Sisters, Dianne Wiest won Best Supporting Actress for her dazzling turn as the ditzy and unhappy Holly. Similarly impressive was fellow Oscar winner Michael Caine as the depressed Elliot who realised that the grass wasn't greener on the other side. Mia Farrow and Barbara Hershey, as Hannah and Lee, added their own energy to proceedings and the chemistry between the three sisters was perfectly realised. Although I didn't think much of his performance, Allen's script for Hannah and Her Sisters was well-constructed and well-paced. I particularly enjoyed the fact that we heard the inner thoughts of the main players and this narrative structure meant that we learnt more about them than we would have done had their thoughts solely been expressed through dialogue. Allen's win for Best Screenplay would be his last for twenty-five years and Hannah and Her Sisters would be his last appearance in the Best Picture category for the same amount of time. But performers in his films would be more successful even though Allen himself often refused to appear at the ceremony preferring instead to play jazz music at a local bar. 

Changing pace, the next two posts will focus on a newcomer who appeared in no less than five Best Picture nominees over the 1980s and garnered three Best Actor nods during that time.