Wednesday, May 4, 2016

spotlight: sometimes oscar goes home with nobody's favorite



(2015. dir: Tom McCarthy) We've made a tramp of him over the years, Oscar. Instead of mounting the mantelpiece of the year's best movie, the one that will be the classic, remembered and treasured down through the ages, he goes home with the safe guy (Crash), or the guy who made the most clamorous din (James Freakin' Cameron, anyone?) or the guy who took a stab at something that nobody wants to look at too closely, and so everyone pats him on the back and murmurs, "nicely done, take Oscar," while looking, embarrassed, away.

So remind me: why did this win? Because journalist-as-workingman's-hero movies have a long and beloved tradition? Because pedophilia tolerated from the seat of centuries-old power is, let's face it, nobody's idea of a good thing? Maybe I'd allow it in a year of fair-to-middlin' offerings, but there are at least five movies from 2015 I'd have Oscar-ified before this one. Hell, I'd have sent the statue home with JJ Abrams' Star Wars first.

If you're going in looking for All the President's Men (and yes, yes, I confess it, I was), you're going to suffer mad disappointment. It's got none of the dynamic chemistry between leads, none of the suspense, none of that lovely, dark paranoia which takes over the last half hour. None of the powerhouse performances, no Hoffman, Redford, Robards. Remember how in that old beauty even the tiny roles were filled by wonderful actors? Jane Alexander, Lindsay Crouse, Ned Beatty, Valerie Curtin, Robert Walden, Martin Balsam, Allyn McLerie, Hal Holbrook.

Alright, enough nostalgia for beautiful things past. And nothing against the actors here. It is, very consciously, an ensemble piece, in which no single human shines particularly brightly. The fact that Mark Ruffalo and Rachel McAdams were nominated for Oscars reflects how little imagination the Academy has, how ready it is to fill in the blanks on the ballot with decent but unexceptional performances. (Although I do respect the way Ruffalo makes small but true changes in his manner and physique and presentation for each new role. And if I hadn't known that was Liev Schreiber, I think I wouldn't have guessed it was Liev Schreiber. And I do love Stanley Tucci, and how wonderful was it to see Billy Crudup again? As he ages, and his ridiculous level of prettiness morphs into something more interesting, that weird energy, which was always there but obscured by pulchritude, shines through more fully. No wonder he never plays leads anymore. He's so fascinating to watch, it might be exhausting if he were the center of a film.)

But back to the frustrations. The script is nowhere. At no time does anyone say anything extraordinary. It's all, front to back, exposition, with a scattered aside or two when the journalists voice their creeped-out opinions about the bad guys, but even those are uninspired in wording. And there is no dynamic tension. The thing is edited, it seems quite consciously, to move forward at an unchangingly steady clip, avoiding both emotional highs and lows. This may have been done to represent the constancy of a reporter's plodding but thorough work-pace, but it does nothing to promote gripping drama. The camera, my boyfriend pointed out, has a tendency to pull back away from the group as they're recognizing a breakthrough, instead of encroaching. It's a subconscious thing, right? You pull the camera in, the brain says, "This is important; I should watch closely." You pull out, it says, "The crucial part is done. Oh, look at those pretty windows." It's as if director, screenwriter, cameraman, and editor conspired to keep us from investing too emotionally in the story. And, congratulations, guys, it sure worked with me.

The one good thing I can say about the telling of this story, and this is fairly huge, I admit: it never descended entirely into Good vs Evil. It somehow resisted that usual Hollywood, Easy-Street route of giving All Catholics the black hats or even All Reporters big, shiny, white stetsons. Maybe that's why it got its Oscar, for toeing a delicate line with a touch of grace and care and bonhomie.

All the same, I'll lay odds it'll never get a second viewing in my living room. And Star Wars I may watch a good fifty times or so, if I have the leisure.

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