So this it, we've come full circle and apart from a little housekeeping in the final few posts we're on to our last Best Picture winner. Five years ago when I started this blog, the first winner I watched was the very first Best Picture victor Wings. Some eighty-four years later, The Artist became the second silent film to win the award and it's the film I've selected to end this portion of the blog.
Rather than just being a silent film, Michel Hazanavicius' movie is a silent films about silent films. Jean Dujardin became the first Frenchman to win the Best Actor award for playing one of the biggest stars of the silent film era George Valentin. Ironically the film begins in 1927, the same year as the Oscars did, where Valentin finds himself loved by movie bosses and audiences alike. He also has a brief moment with the beautiful newcomer Peppy Miller who he advices to where a beauty spot to make herself distinctive. George's advice works as soon Peppy rises up the credits list and becomes a star singing to the same studio as her idol. Unfortunately for George his star starts to decline as he refuses to succumb to the new trend of the talkies. George's life only gets worse as his self-funded movie bombs whilst at the same time he loses everything due to the Wall Street Crash. He also almost dies in a fire and is only saved when his beloved dog Jack alerts a policeman to the ensuing blaze. The fire brings Peppy and George back together again as he learns that she brought all of his possessions when they were auctioned off and later she tries to get his career back on track. The final scene in which Peppy and George tap dance together intentionally evokes memories of Fred and Ginger, a very odd sight for me as Top Hat was the very first film I watched for this blog.
The first time I saw The Artist I really enjoyed it and found everything about it delightful from the performances down to the costumes. However, this time around I found myself being annoyed by certain things namely the fact that Peppy Miller winked so many times that I thought she would have some sort of seizure. It's clear to see why the academy went crazy for The Artist as it includes many nods to the sort of films that the ageing members of the group would've remembered the first time around. To be fair to The Artist there are certain brilliant elements about it namely Ludovic Bource's score which essentially has to anchor the narrative of the film due to there being almost no dialogue. Bource's score perfectly conveys the emotions of each of the characters and even if you were just listening to the film you'd probably be able to guess what was going on. Dujardin's lead turn is equally fantastic as he is able to make you care about a man who loses everything mainly due to his own pride. Even the gorgeous Berenice Bejo makes Peppy Miller likeable rather than irritating even though that constant blinking really got on my nerves. The fact that Dujardin and Bejo weren't known outside of their native France aided the film's success as they made the film more believable than a couple of recognisable movie stars would've done. The film does contain some recognisable faces in supporting roles namely John Goodman as the larger-than-life movie producer and James Cromwell as George's loyal butler. Another cast member who garnered a lot of buzz during the film's initial release was Uggie the dog whose performance as Jack was utterly charming.
I think it's quite interesting that The Artist found success at the same Oscar ceremony as Hugo as both films praise the early cinematic era. Both films won five awards with The Artist finding more success in the lead categories, picking up awards for Dujardin and Hazanavicius as well as the big Best Picture prize. The success of both of these films beggars the question whether the Academy's tastes have really altered in the eighty plus years since the ceremony originally began. It could certainly be suggested that the Academy has a love of the past as films set in days gone by often do better than those set in the present. But, judging by the eclectic mix of films nominated at the most recent ceremony it would seem that the Oscars are at least heading in a contemporary direction. To that point the next four posts will be ones that I wrote prior to this year's ceremony in which I reviewed all eight movies that were in contention for Best Picture.
Showing posts with label Malcolm McDowell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Malcolm McDowell. Show all posts
Monday, 25 May 2015
Sunday, 23 February 2014
Matt's Big Oscar Challenge Days 253-254: Inside the Mind of Stanley Kubrick
We're back to focusing on two works by the same director and this time it's someone we've met before, Stanley Kubrick. As witnessed by his first work to be nominated for an Oscar, Dr. Strangelove, Kubrick isn't exactly a film-maker who plays by the rules. His two works from the 1970s that were Oscar-nominated reinforced this statement and really cemented his legacy as one of the most unique directors of all time.
Of the two of Kubrick's films nominated for Best Picture in the 1970s, A Clockwork Orange is definitely the most bizarre of the pair. Based on the novella by Anthony Burgess, the film delves into a dystopian future in which violence, rape and robbery are everyday occurrences. Our hero of sorts is Alexander DeLarge, a leader of a gang who take pleasure in committing these aforementioned deeds. Alex's style is unique in that he dons a white suit with a black hat and his group always wear animal masks whenever they commit a burglary. The second act of the film sees Alex arrested and later become a guinea pig for a new scheme in which the minister of interior hopes to turn violent individuals into law abiding citizens. This scheme involves brainwashing Alex using a series of harorwing images which ultimately make him violently ill. The worst part of this is that he is no longer able to hear Beethoven, his favourite composer, as his music is played over one of the films. The third act is the most interesting, as we see Alex return to his normal life as a broken man and one that can now not do anything to defend himself against the people who have wronged him in the past. I feel that this part of the film makes it an incredibly thought-provoking endeavour and so it was interesting to learn that Kubrick initially never intended to make the film. Instead, the story was dropped into his lap by a friend and he only decided to get involved in the project after the film he was going to make about the life of Napoleon fell through.
Stanley Kubrick has the reputation of being somewhat of a perfectionist so its interesting to learn that A Clockwork Orange was the film that took him the least time to complete. This was mainly due to the fact that the majority of the filming took place quite near to his home, in central London, and that there were no tricky technical sequences. Of course, the scene that sticks in most people's minds is that of the cinema in which Alex is forced to watch a number of disgusting films, with his eyes propped open constantly. To me though, it's the after-affects of these methods and in particular when Alex has a breakdown after being played Beethoven on-loop. I have to admit that it took me a while to get into A Clockwork Orange, with the opening ten or fifteen minutes being a particular struggle. I feel that being plunged into this world of sex and violence head-on was a little alienating to this particular viewer as was the slang that was employed by Alex and his friends. Luckily, as things progressed, I really started to get where the film was going and throughout the second and third acts I was completely engrossed. Part of the reason for this is down to Malcolm McDowell's incredible central performance as the anti-hero Alex. On paper, Alex is somebody who is completely unlikeable but over the course of the film I found McDowell made him feel quite sympathetic. Alex is definitely a product of his environment and Kubrick takes his time to show exactly what this sort of environment is. The production design and quirky cinematography add to the unsettling nature of the film and the score is particularly memorable. Though the film was nominated for four Oscars, it ultimately came away empty-handed, but that being said A Clockwork Orange is definitely a memorable film and one that makes you think long after the credits roll.
The same cannot be said for Kubrick's other Oscar-nominated film of the seventies, Barry Lyndon, which was neither memorable nor particularly original. Unlike his other films that I've watched for this project, Barry Lyndon was definitely his most traditional film and reminded me of several costume dramas that I'd previously encountered. Indeed, Barry Lyndon's traditional nature was reinforced by the fact that it even had an interval separating the two acts. Based on the work of William Makepeace Thackeray, Kubrick's other reason for making Barry Lyndon was that he could use some of the period research he had done for the now-aborted Napoleon project. Clocking in at three hours, Barry Lyndon tells the story of Redmond Barry a man who uses his quick-wit and cunning to climb up the rungs of society before losing it all again. The first act of the film sees Barry go from a penniless Irish rogue to somebody who frequents the classiest establishments in Europe. He does this through the use of his cunning and his manipulation of others, which allows him both to abandon the army and win plenty of money helping a wealthy Chevalier to cheat at cards. The film's second half begins with the marriage of Barry to Lady Lyndon, the late wife of an older aristocrat who dies towards the end of the first act. Now using the moniker of Barry Lyndon, our hero is not a good husband and doesn't even keep his affairs a particular secret. Due to this, Barry makes an enemy of his stepson who believes him to be no more than a common chancer. Indeed, in order to secure his position in society, Barry spends all of his wife's earnings on trying to get a title of his own. But, as the subtitle of the second act would suggest, Barry ultimately suffers a major downfall and loses everything in the process.
Visually, Barry Lyndon is a great work and was recognised for this at the Oscars where it one four awards in the technical categories. Cinematographer John Alcott captured some truly spectacular images throughout the film which really made you feel that you were part of the action. Similarly to A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon relies heavily on classical music and in particular the works of Handel and Vivaldi. It was for reworking the compositions of these two men that Leonard Roseman won his Oscar for the score. The award-winning costume design and art direction were equally sumptuous with the Irish exteriors being incredibly atmospheric. To an extent, I also enjoyed the way Barry Lyndon was narrated, by Michael Horden, as his views of events aren't always that trustworthy. While great to look at, I found Barry Lyndon a chore to get through and at almost three hours it was far too long. The first hour in particular was incredibly pain-staking as the film almost took on an episodic nature as we learnt of Barry's love for his cousin, the reason he joined the army and his eventual espionage. I finally became interested in the film when Barry started working for the Chevalier and that interest continued throughout the film's second act. That being said, I did find most scenes were stretched out far too long and that Kubrick could have edited down the film by at least thirty minutes. My other issue with the film was the central performance from Ryan O'Neal, who was seemingly picked for the role due to the fact that he wasn't the usual type of actor that Kubrick casts in his film. O'Neal struggled to maintain his Irish accent and really wasn't as charismatic as he should have been especially as we're meant to believe how much of Barry's luck relies on his charm. That's not to say that Barry Lyndon is a particularly bad film but, given that it's come from the mind of Stanley Kubrick, I was expecting a lot more.
Although Barry Lyndon and A Clockwork Orange were two of Kubrick's most prominent films, I don't feel they're necessarily the movies that define his career. Despite my issues with Barry Lyndon, both of these films showcase how much of a genius Kubrick was and how he often employed new technical methods to get the most out of his story. Kubrick truly was a visionary and it's a shame that I won't be able to watch any more of the films he made before his death.
Next time we have a film that looks at the perils of a countryside holiday.
Of the two of Kubrick's films nominated for Best Picture in the 1970s, A Clockwork Orange is definitely the most bizarre of the pair. Based on the novella by Anthony Burgess, the film delves into a dystopian future in which violence, rape and robbery are everyday occurrences. Our hero of sorts is Alexander DeLarge, a leader of a gang who take pleasure in committing these aforementioned deeds. Alex's style is unique in that he dons a white suit with a black hat and his group always wear animal masks whenever they commit a burglary. The second act of the film sees Alex arrested and later become a guinea pig for a new scheme in which the minister of interior hopes to turn violent individuals into law abiding citizens. This scheme involves brainwashing Alex using a series of harorwing images which ultimately make him violently ill. The worst part of this is that he is no longer able to hear Beethoven, his favourite composer, as his music is played over one of the films. The third act is the most interesting, as we see Alex return to his normal life as a broken man and one that can now not do anything to defend himself against the people who have wronged him in the past. I feel that this part of the film makes it an incredibly thought-provoking endeavour and so it was interesting to learn that Kubrick initially never intended to make the film. Instead, the story was dropped into his lap by a friend and he only decided to get involved in the project after the film he was going to make about the life of Napoleon fell through.
Stanley Kubrick has the reputation of being somewhat of a perfectionist so its interesting to learn that A Clockwork Orange was the film that took him the least time to complete. This was mainly due to the fact that the majority of the filming took place quite near to his home, in central London, and that there were no tricky technical sequences. Of course, the scene that sticks in most people's minds is that of the cinema in which Alex is forced to watch a number of disgusting films, with his eyes propped open constantly. To me though, it's the after-affects of these methods and in particular when Alex has a breakdown after being played Beethoven on-loop. I have to admit that it took me a while to get into A Clockwork Orange, with the opening ten or fifteen minutes being a particular struggle. I feel that being plunged into this world of sex and violence head-on was a little alienating to this particular viewer as was the slang that was employed by Alex and his friends. Luckily, as things progressed, I really started to get where the film was going and throughout the second and third acts I was completely engrossed. Part of the reason for this is down to Malcolm McDowell's incredible central performance as the anti-hero Alex. On paper, Alex is somebody who is completely unlikeable but over the course of the film I found McDowell made him feel quite sympathetic. Alex is definitely a product of his environment and Kubrick takes his time to show exactly what this sort of environment is. The production design and quirky cinematography add to the unsettling nature of the film and the score is particularly memorable. Though the film was nominated for four Oscars, it ultimately came away empty-handed, but that being said A Clockwork Orange is definitely a memorable film and one that makes you think long after the credits roll.
The same cannot be said for Kubrick's other Oscar-nominated film of the seventies, Barry Lyndon, which was neither memorable nor particularly original. Unlike his other films that I've watched for this project, Barry Lyndon was definitely his most traditional film and reminded me of several costume dramas that I'd previously encountered. Indeed, Barry Lyndon's traditional nature was reinforced by the fact that it even had an interval separating the two acts. Based on the work of William Makepeace Thackeray, Kubrick's other reason for making Barry Lyndon was that he could use some of the period research he had done for the now-aborted Napoleon project. Clocking in at three hours, Barry Lyndon tells the story of Redmond Barry a man who uses his quick-wit and cunning to climb up the rungs of society before losing it all again. The first act of the film sees Barry go from a penniless Irish rogue to somebody who frequents the classiest establishments in Europe. He does this through the use of his cunning and his manipulation of others, which allows him both to abandon the army and win plenty of money helping a wealthy Chevalier to cheat at cards. The film's second half begins with the marriage of Barry to Lady Lyndon, the late wife of an older aristocrat who dies towards the end of the first act. Now using the moniker of Barry Lyndon, our hero is not a good husband and doesn't even keep his affairs a particular secret. Due to this, Barry makes an enemy of his stepson who believes him to be no more than a common chancer. Indeed, in order to secure his position in society, Barry spends all of his wife's earnings on trying to get a title of his own. But, as the subtitle of the second act would suggest, Barry ultimately suffers a major downfall and loses everything in the process.
Visually, Barry Lyndon is a great work and was recognised for this at the Oscars where it one four awards in the technical categories. Cinematographer John Alcott captured some truly spectacular images throughout the film which really made you feel that you were part of the action. Similarly to A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon relies heavily on classical music and in particular the works of Handel and Vivaldi. It was for reworking the compositions of these two men that Leonard Roseman won his Oscar for the score. The award-winning costume design and art direction were equally sumptuous with the Irish exteriors being incredibly atmospheric. To an extent, I also enjoyed the way Barry Lyndon was narrated, by Michael Horden, as his views of events aren't always that trustworthy. While great to look at, I found Barry Lyndon a chore to get through and at almost three hours it was far too long. The first hour in particular was incredibly pain-staking as the film almost took on an episodic nature as we learnt of Barry's love for his cousin, the reason he joined the army and his eventual espionage. I finally became interested in the film when Barry started working for the Chevalier and that interest continued throughout the film's second act. That being said, I did find most scenes were stretched out far too long and that Kubrick could have edited down the film by at least thirty minutes. My other issue with the film was the central performance from Ryan O'Neal, who was seemingly picked for the role due to the fact that he wasn't the usual type of actor that Kubrick casts in his film. O'Neal struggled to maintain his Irish accent and really wasn't as charismatic as he should have been especially as we're meant to believe how much of Barry's luck relies on his charm. That's not to say that Barry Lyndon is a particularly bad film but, given that it's come from the mind of Stanley Kubrick, I was expecting a lot more.
Although Barry Lyndon and A Clockwork Orange were two of Kubrick's most prominent films, I don't feel they're necessarily the movies that define his career. Despite my issues with Barry Lyndon, both of these films showcase how much of a genius Kubrick was and how he often employed new technical methods to get the most out of his story. Kubrick truly was a visionary and it's a shame that I won't be able to watch any more of the films he made before his death.
Next time we have a film that looks at the perils of a countryside holiday.
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