It's officially Oscar Season. We look at the early playing
field. By Zac Crain
Somewhere along the line, the film industry gave up on the idea of
four seasons in favor of the current model, a setup that features
just three, and only two of them really matter. There's Summer,
which stretches from the first week of May until the latter days of
August; Oscar Season, which traditionally starts in late
September/early October and lasts through New Year's Eve; and the
Wasteland, an amorphous period that encompasses January, can
stretch all the way to March and April, and basically applies to
any film that doesn't score a release date in the other two
seasons. Guess which one doesn't matter. ¶ Right. Films in the
Wasteland fall into two categories: (1) movies that the studios are
contractually bound to release into theaters, but which are deemed
so abysmal that no exec wants to squander additional cash waging a
marketing campaign in the more cutthroat months of the year, and
(2) well-made pictures that resist traditional advertising
techniques, so the suits just roll the dice. Either way, the studio
is hoping for a happy accident, that the general lack of
competition will result in a surprise success or, at the very
least, enough green to break even. ¶ Summer movies can also be
divided into two groups. The first includes the so-called "tent
pole" films: big-ticket sequels and remakes, (hopefully)
crowd-pleasing action extravaganzas, and high-concept comedies -
Superman Returns, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest,
Click, and so on. The second group is smaller and a bit of a
gamble. This is the counterprogramming unit, and it presents a more
intimate alternative to all of the explosions and spandex. This
summer, The Devil Wears Prada scored big going that route.
But it doesn't always work. ¶ Which brings us to Oscar Season. This
is when the studios unveil their prestige pictures, featuring
A-list stars and directors or, at the very least, top-notch source
material. This is when you get high-class literary adaptations,
actors stretching into unusual (for them) roles, and directors
delving into labors of love. It's still early yet - many of the
real players wait until late December - but it's a good time to
size up the initial playing field.
The Namesake
You don't get much more prestigious than the film version of a
celebrated novel by a Pulitzer Prize winner. Jhumpa Lahiri's story
of the son of Indian immigrants who is caught between his desire to
fit in with his Boston neighbors and his family's desire to do the
exact opposite is brought to life by director Mira Nair (Vanity
Fair, Mississippi Masala). If that sounds like the plot to
Bend It Like Beckham, well, it is and it isn't, and, at
any rate, that doesn't mean there can't be another film about the
struggles of someone trapped between two cultures, right? There's
plenty of territory to explore in that premise. I mean, how many
movies have been made about rogue cops who have to save the day
while battling both bad guys and their own police departments?
Like, 100? Here's another question: Will people take Kal Penn, star
of such funny (but slight) comedies as Harold & Kumar Go to
White Castle and Van Wilder, seriously as the lead
here?
Marie Antoinette
Sofia Coppola is - in fraternity/sorority terms - a legacy, and no
one, and I mean no one, appreciates that more than Hollywood. But
the good thing is she deserves the love; her second and third
films, The Virgin Suicides and Lost in
Translation, were beautifully constructed, fragile little
movies full of style and substance in equal measure. Her fourth and
latest is a stylized biopic, starring Kirsten Dunst as the
19-year-old queen of France, and features decidedly nonperiod music
by the likes of New Order and Gang of Four. Here's hoping that
gambit fares better for her than for the last film that tried
something similar. That film was A Knight's Tale, and it
almost made Heath Ledger reconsider his line of work.
The Black Dahlia
The Black Dahlia may be James Ellroy's most beloved book,
which is a strange descriptor to apply to a novel that focuses on
the grisly murder of wannabe starlet Elizabeth Short. Director
Brian De Palma was one of Hollywood's young lions in the 1970s and
'80s, and even though his career has been as hit (Carlito's
Way, Mission: Impossible) and miss (The Bonfire of the
Vanities, Femme Fatale) as a one-eyed sniper since then, he
can still deliver the goods when involved in the right project.
With a talented cast (Hilary Swank, Aaron Eckhart, Scarlett
Johansson) and a script by Josh Friedman (War of the Worlds),
The Black Dahlia could and should fall under that heading.
Plus, as L.A. Confidential proved, Oscar voters love
movies derived from Ellroy novels and movies that take place in and
around Hollywood. Two potential red flags: The last time De Palma
helmed an adaptation of a much-loved book, The Bonfire of the
Vanities, it was such a debacle, a book was written about it,
Julie Salamon's 1992 best seller, The Devil's Candy: The
Bonfire of the Vanities Goes to Hollywood. And Josh Hartnett,
who still hasn't shown he can carry a movie, plays the lead role in
Dahlia.
Children of Men
The latest from director Alfonso Cuarón (Y Tu Mamá También,
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) has a premise that
is immediately intriguing: In the distant (but not too distant)
world of 2027, man has mysteriously lost the ability to procreate;
the population, as a result, is slowly dying off, and that
population, naturally, has panicked itself into chaos. Clive Owen,
doing all sorts of Clive-Owen-y-type things, must help escort to
safety a woman who is pregnant with a miracle baby so that
scientists can literally save the world. Sure beats an alien
attack, huh? Beyond Owen, the cast is filled with reliable players
such as Michael Caine and Julianne Moore, who also happen to be
Academy favorites. So expect a few nods here, unless the sci-fi
elements scare Oscar voters off. From what I've seen so far, it
would be their loss.
The Departed
Martin Scorsese offers his take on 2002's gripping Infernal
Affairs, transplanting the cat-and-mouse action to Boston.
There, the Irish mob hunts for an undercover cop among its numbers,
while the cops try to sniff out an Irish mobster hiding in their
ranks. Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon head the cast, which also
features Jack Nicholson and Mark Wahlberg. There is an almost zero
percent chance that Nicholson will be shut out when the nominations
are announced. Scorsese, of course, will probably join him, which
brings me to this: Can we please give Scorsese an Oscar this time?
He probably should have won for Raging Bull. He definitely
should have won for Goodfellas. I wouldn't have complained
if he had won for The Aviator. Is everyone really okay
with Kevin Costner having a Best Director Oscar while Martin
Scorsese does not? Seriously?
The Last Kiss
A remake of up-and-coming Italian director Gabriele Muccino's 2001
film, L'ultimo bacio, The Last Kiss could be this year's
sleeper hit - at the box office and during award season. Zach Braff
follows up 2004's Garden State, his debut as
writer/director, with a role that's right in his wheelhouse: a boy
who is in the process of becoming a man and wants to keep being a
boy. In a way, it's sort of the flip side to Garden State;
in another way, it's also its spiritual sequel. But it's not
Braff's movie this time around; his only duty beyond acting was
assembling the film's excellent soundtrack. In his place: writer
Paul Haggis, the first person to ever write consecutive Best
Picture winners (Million Dollar Baby and Crash),
and director Tony Goldwyn. The latter is less of a known quantity,
since he's spent more time acting (Ghost, From the Earth to the
Moon) than directing (A Walk on the Moon, Someone Like
You, a couple of episodes of Grey's Anatomy). Still,
we wouldn't bet against anything that involves Haggis. Even his
cameo on Entourage was entertaining.