The Critic and the Producer
An Oscars Exchange.
By Lynda Obst & David Edelstein
New York Magazine , January 23 - Feburary 26, 2007
Oscar Snubs ‘Dreamgirls,’ Astonishes Edelstein
Waiting for Obst, Edelstein Disclaims and Explains
Obst Weighs In, Fond of ‘Sunshine’ and Pushing for ‘Babel’
Eastwood Turns Antiwar, and Edelstein Sees a Seismic Shift
Obst (and Everybody Else) Loves Meryl Streep
If We're Reading This Right, We Think Edelstein Just Called Obst Miranda Priestly
Wherein Obst Stands Up for Miranda
Oscar Loves Real People
(When They're Interpreted By Famous Actors)
When Are They Going to Award the Believable Behavers?
America Loves Competitions, Wacky Acceptance Speeches
In Anticipation of Gossip and Exhibitionism
It's in the Bag for Scorsese
And the Winners Are .
Wistfully Wishing for Politics, Comedies, Chick Flicks, and Al Gore
Let the Winners Speak!
Pigging Out With Oscar
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Oscar Snubs 'Dreamgirls,' Astonishes Edelstein
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 9:28 AM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: 'Girls' Gone Bye-Bye
Bella Lynda,
Unbelievable! Incredible! Astonishing! The absolute shoo-in, Dreamgirls, has been dealt a devastating blow. Nothing for Best Picture, nothing for Best Director (Bill Condon) — not even that consolation nom, Adapted Screenplay! (The unkindest cut?) I thought Dreamgirls was thoroughly mediocre (with one song, "We Are Family," among the most eardrum-lacerating things I've ever heard), but the dis is stunning. Did anyone see this coming?
Whew. Deep breath.
Does it seem to you as if this race has been going on for nine months? There are Websites that function year-round for nothing but Oscar prognostications. And yet, the one film that was supposed to top the list of noms (if not win) was Dreamgirls. Was it edged out by Little Miss Sunshine, the Broken-Down Little Bus That Could? Or was it my personal fave this year, The Queen — a movie that managed to be subversive and royalist at the same time, as well as deeply thoughtful on the subject of our modern celebrity culture? (Helen Mirren a lock? Peter Morgan for Best Original Screenplay?)
Will Little Miss Sunshine pull off one of the great upsets in Academy history? Whether or not it was the best film of the year, it seems the least controversial of the nominees — the only movie on which everyone in the Academy can agree.
I am delighted — delighted! — that Leonardo DiCaprio was nominated for his cock-of-the-walk turn as a smuggler in Blood Diamond instead of his tediously irresolute undercover cop in The Departed. Great and unexpected wisdom! On that subject: While Scorsese was going on and on while accepting an award at the New York Film Critics' Dinner ("Ireallydidn'texpectthistIhoughtTheDepartedwouldbealittle genrepiece..."), I was getting drunk at the bar next to Paul Schrader and babbling that it would be so horrible if the director of Taxi Driver and Raging Bull got an Oscar for The Departed, a piece of campy hackwork to which I was far too kind in New York's pages. But Scorsese will win, won't he? No way Eastwood gets it for a Japanese-language picture, especially after his upset over Scorsese two years ago. And with Condon consigned to oblivion …
If your studio (Paramount) is in an uproar over Dreamgirls, there is good news for Babel, another film I disliked for its over-the-top and unearned emotional cruelty. No nom for Brad Pitt, deglamourized and making a George Clooney–esque Oscar run. But the two supporting-actress noms are something — shutting out poor, dear Catherine O'Hara in For Your Consideration. (It's Jennifer Hudson's prize, though, isn't it? She made the rounds, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights — and very beautiful — at the NYFF dinner. I loved EW's Lisa Schwarzbaum — who was chatting with me when Hudson was introduced — for telling her, simply, "Enjoy this.")
Happy to see Ryan Gosling in there for Half Nelson — but devastated there's no Maggie Gyllenhaal for Sherrybaby, the performance of a lifetime … were there not so much of her life yet to come. How could work that transcendent be ignored? Much as I loved Penélope Cruz and Kate Winslet and Meryl Streep, their work pales on every level next to Gyllenhaal's. (Dames Helen and Judi, though: What can you say except "wa-hoo"???)
The other interesting race is foreign-language film. Days of Glory (a.k.a. Indigenes), The Lives of Others, and Pan's Labyrinth are major works (I haven't seen After the Wedding); I suppose it will come down, as it always comes down (sigh), to which film has the higher profile.
Finally: Are the phone lines in L.A. burning up? What breakfasts there will be in Park City this morning!
David
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Waiting for Obst, Edelstein Disclaims and Explains
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 12:25 PM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: I forgot to say I am so above this
Dear Lynda,
As I wait for your response, I want to mention that several friends and one lively Website have let me know they think I sound altogether too gushy (even "queeny") on the subject of this year's Academy Awards, merely because I decided to get into the spirit of the thing and to spare you my standard disclaimer. (From 2005: "As longtime readers are probably sick of hearing, the Oscars are worthless as a measure of artistic merit, but fascinating as a measure of how Establishment Hollywood hopes to present itself to the world …" Blah blah blah).
A word about my New York review of The Departed, since I've come in for some ribbing about it. It's true the ads identified me as saying that "the movie works smashingly." They did, however, omit what followed: "Especially if you haven't seen its Hong Kong counterpart and haven't a clue what's coming. But for all its snap, crackle, and pop, it's nowhere near as galvanic emotionally." A movie can "work smashingly" and still be a piece of shit, especially if the director is enough of a whiz/speed demon to put it over. (Rocky Balboa works smashingly.) And along with many people I enjoyed some of the Mamet-speak and the splatter. But it was, in retrospect, a too cautious — i.e., wussy — review. I won't let it happen again.
David
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Obst Weighs In, Fond of ‘Sunshine’ and Pushing for ‘Babel’
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 12:48 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: RE: 'Girls' Gone Bye-Bye
Dear David,
Amazing, isn't it, when the Academy defies the odds and seems to be saying something controversial? But what is it they're saying, exactly? Remember, we voted before the Golden Globes (not that the Academy would have been influenced by those 92 voters, who are themselves influenced by the charms of the various movie stars swept in front of them all season). The Academy seems to be saying, Dreamgirls is not Chicago — and there are some movies we like more.
Dreamgirls' buzz came about because of America's hunger for a true musical — and the expertise of the DreamWorks publicity department (best in the biz). But those factors don't heavily influence Academy voters. The sleeper nomination, which also might have been Little Children or Children of Men (or perhaps another title with the word "children" in it), was the breakthrough Letters From Iwo Jima. There we experienced the unique perspective of the defeated as they await being crushed by the Greatest Generation — but we were watching with eyes that have also witnessed Vietnam and Iraq.
Little Miss Sunshine may be the industry underdog favorite. That was a secret I was going to share with you — until yesterday, when it was voted best picture by the Producers Guild, which kind of tipped my hand. Why does the industry love it? Maybe because we are one big dysfunctional family. Or maybe it's because we're all individually nutty, and our real families are cuckoo. All I know is that it is NOT because it's the only movie we can agree on. (What does that mean, anyway? We certainly didn't all agree on Crash, and it won!) When I saw it the week it came out, I laughed, cried, never stopped thinking about it, and said, "This is the movie to beat." No other movies compared to it. It's about finding grace through helping someone else achieve an impossible goal; how through family, even non-functioning family, the slightest efforts to come together turn to joy. This is profound. And uplifting. I would like to remind you and your other critic friends that there is nothing wrong with uplifting if it is earned and real. It can change the world. Or one person. I am deeply envious of the producer who found this script. Works like that are why I make movies.
The Queen — your queen. Good flick. I find it fascinating that my Brit friends are dumbfounded by how we Yanks have embraced this film; they are so over E, Diana — the whole megillah. To me it was the best BBC movie ever. Helen Mirren here, Helen Mirren there, Helen Mirren everywhere. I say that as a true Kate Winslet fanatic. There are Queen fans staked out all over the Academy. Helen and Meryl are neck and neck. Yo, Nora! Over to you.
I agree that it is delightful and right that Leo should be nominated for his terrific performance in Blood Diamond. His accent was so perfect, I was reminded of Meryl doing Isak Dinesen in Out of Africa, and what a moment in acting that was. But his accent was a throwaway — not the centerpiece of the performance. What an actor. And yet it's Forest's year. I think. The range in his performance was operatic.
Babel: An Oscar picture for sure. But one with a problem — half the serious moviegoing audience refuses to see it. It's just too grim. It is the opposite of Little Miss Sunshine. Many people find it didactic and contrived, but that's the filmmaker's intent. The movie worked for me. The portrait of the U.S. border guard is horrific, and in general, America's efforts to be constructive are viewed with utter despair. But that's why we invite non-American filmmakers to make meaningful films. Babel needs an Oscar. The resistance to the film must be broken.
It's too early for the phone lines in my bedroom to be ringing off the hook — but I'm not so sure about the ones at Geffen's.
I think I'm in trouble already. And it's not even lunchtime.
Kiss kiss,
Lynda
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Eastwood Turns Antiwar, and Edelstein Sees a Seismic Shift
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 2:11 PM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: Deaf Jam
I wasn't surprised by the Letters From Iwo Jima nomination. The L.A. critics dug it. And with two major films this year, Eastwood had to be nominated for something. Odd that Flags of Our Fathers was such a nonstarter. In some ways, it's stronger than Iwo Jima, which suffers from a bland humanism that has little to do with the warrior codes (and collective insanity) of the Japanese military at the time. And yet its strongest scenes are wrenching — tragic with a touch of farce. When an old Republican like Clint Eastwood is bent on deconstructing the myths that drive nations to war, you know you're in for a seismic shift in the culture.
Little Miss Sunshine is a wonderful movie — and a wonderful sleight of hand. Think of it: an upbeat film in which everyone's dreams are cruelly dashed — in which everyone loses. How do they get away with it? When people fail in life, they tend to turn on their families first. But in LMS, there's joy, togetherness, collective defiance against a fraudulent world. A big lie — but an inspirational one.
I didn't expect Meryl would be such a strong Best Actress candidate for a very witty but very minimalist performance in a supporting role in a lame movie. (I know it's your genre, but …) As for Whitaker: You said the "range in his performance was operatic." Did you mean "the rage"? Because rage is the only thing that has been missing from his work. Now, it seems he can do anything. (Me, I'm a Ryan Gosling partisan. But that's an honor-to-be-nominated nomination, isn't it?)
Re: Babel. A timely movie, for sure: It captures Americans' sudden sense of vulnerability in a world they (okay, we) know precious little about. Arrogance and ignorance — a scary combination. Maybe the picture will pull out a win. But I still don't understand what, thematically speaking, the deaf Japanese girl's twat had to do with anything.
We haven't talked docs. Is Al Gore a lock in this election anyway? (I love all the films in this category.)
On to the important stuff: Will starlets dare to wear diamonds this year? If they do, will they nervously tell the audience that the gems are from certified conflict-free zones?
Do tell us about your phone calls when they come.
David
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Obst (and Everybody Else) Loves Meryl Streep
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 4:10 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: RE: Deaf Jam
Dear David,
With such a trenchant understanding of why Iwo worked, I'm surprised you didn't like it more, and particularly surprised you didn't see that that is exactly why I think Flags was a nonstarter. Seeing a movie based upon the experiences of heroic WWII GIs — a movie that necessarily calls to mind Saving Private Ryan and the attendant celebration at Normandy that brought together the French, President Bush, and Steven Spielberg — not only do I not know what else there is to say, I can't separate the clichés from the profundities. Also, the acting was much better in Iwo.
What is there to say about Meryl that hasn't been said? Forget Raymond — everybody loves Meryl. The Devil Wears Prada rode on her performance.
Virtually every scene she was in was a delight, and any scene she wasn't in I can't remember. That's carrying a movie on your back. Minimalist performances that happen to be letter-perfect can be Oscar-worthy, too. They're just not over the top. Unlike Jack Nicholson's performance in The Departed, which almost took you out of the movie — in contrast to those given by Alec Baldwin and Marc Walberg, neither of whom I even recognized. The Devil Wears Prada was beloved because Meryl played a fully realized human being, not a monster. Her performance delivers the entire cacophony of female ambition and its life costs: She is brassy, bossy, mellifluous, and polished, and her private life plays out in the minor key.
On to Babel's many outstanding performances: I must say I thought Brad and Cate were terrific — and overlooked. Maybe they had too much going for them this year. Cate was breathtaking in Notes, and Brad was certainly everywhere, but Babel was his most subtle and adult performance. I had no idea what the Japanese plot was about either, but I couldn't take my eyes off Rinko. Not her twat, I want to be clear, but her whole person. This is partly her, partly the magic of Inneratu and his cinematographer. The movie held me all the way, even when I couldn't figure it out. As opposed to Volver, which merely frustrated me. But I think I'm alone on this.
Doc-wise, I do think Al is a lock, if for no other reason than most everyone has seen it and it's such a hassle to see the other documentaries. Also, let's face it — the Zeitgeist determines the doc, and the Zeitgeist is with him. Will this launch his 2008 campaign, as Chris Matthews thinks? This is a question for someone in a higher pay grade than me. Personally, I loved Rachel Grady's Jesus Camp, an underdog. Ted Haggard revealed his sleazy, scary self in the movie, well in advance of his public humiliation.
As for diamonds — you know they're all freebies. Harry Winston and all the jewelers (maybe even De Beers themselves) will be pushing their wares this year, of course. It will be an important moment for the diamond lobbyists. And my guess is yes, you will be seeing actresses with them on. Do you see E! Entertainment grilling people on the red carpet? Imagine Vanessa Minnillo demanding to know whether Cameron Diaz is wearing conflict-free diamonds. "Chanel," she'd answer.
Love,
Lynda
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If We're Reading This Right, We Think Edelstein Just Called Obst Miranda Priestly
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 4:47 PM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: Powerful Female Executives
Dear Lynda,
Too bad you rolled your eyes at another Greatest Generation movie, because Flags of Our Fathers was a bitter, bitter film in which America's defining image of heroism — well, it's side by side with Washington crossing the Delaware — was shown to be at least partly a lie. Too bad the structure was so clunky and that Eastwood didn't help the young actors shape their performances. There's this myth that Eastwood is a great actor's director, but what he's best at is leaving them alone, forcing them to sink or swim. (How Republican.) Some rise to the challenge, others — the ones in Flags — thrash valiantly.
Re: Meryl. I forgot that women producers and studio execs would be the likeliest to appreciate both Streep's exquisite bitchery and her vulnerability.
I wonder if Devil was an emotional workout for you and other Powerful Female Executives. Did you shudder at the memory of every assistant you'd ever terrorized? Or was the film oddly vindicating? (P.S.: I remember more of the marvelous Emily Blunt than I do of Streep, actually.)
Let's say this for Iñárritu: He gets in close to his actors, so close it's like he's backing them emotionally against the wall. The stakes are always insanely high — bogusly high, sometimes. But he does get intense, committed, often astonishing performances. Everyone in that cast is breathtaking.
We still have much to talk about — the overpraised Volver, or how Cars won a Golden Globe when Happy Feet and Monster House are so much cooler. But let's save something for Oscar week. Thanks, as always, for reframing and clarifying the news from Hollywood — and for taking my mind off the human catastrophe in Iraq for an hour or two.
David
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Wherein Obst Stands Up for Miranda
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Tuesday, January 23, 2007 4:55 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: RE: Powerful Female Executives
David,
Touché. If you get my drift. I suppose women who have broken glass ceilings in the same era as Miranda identified with her, sorry. I had many, many identification points with her character, the least memorable of which were terrorizing past assistants, though there are certainly a few of those who will sign on to the Website and cheerily dredge up incidents I have long since forgotten! But a hit the proportion of Prada does not owe to power-suite feminists alone. In fact, I seem to recall talking to dozens of older men who loved this movie, which surprised me at the time. No, I think the charms of Miranda cross the gender barrier. I agree that Emily Blunt was terrific, as clearly Meryl did in her cooler-than-cool acceptance speech at the Globes. Enough of this squabbling though — it is not a political movie, and these struggles are long over. Except for the numbers of power-suit Hollywood women fired this year. It is not, David, an easy road. Glamorous maybe, from the outside. But never easy.
Iñárritu is a one-off. He is wildly influential on screenwriters and directors here. His triptych approach is now a kind of template for storytelling, and his handheld "scenery is a character" approach has become part of the vernacular. I think that's part of the reason why he demands so much of the actors. When so much is required of the background, when everything is so visceral, the actors wind up highly adrenalized. 21 Grams is when I discovered Naomi Watts's range!
I agree on the animated pictures. I can only wonder what happened at the Globes. Actually, I know — Dr. George (Genius Miller) stayed in Australia. Well, fuhgeddaboudit. Happy Feet all the way.
This is our State of the Union, seen through the lens of the State of the Industry. Such as it is: struggling for Joy in a world of Despair. And tonight we will watch W. try to deny the real state of the union, struggling for spin, having relied for too long on the perspective of Dick Cheney.
Till the votes come marching in.
Lynda
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Oscar Loves Real People (When They're Interpreted By Famous Actors)
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Thursday, February 22, 2007 4:07 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: Overcoming Obamamania
Dear David:
It’s a cold rainy day in Tinseltown, and the first Oscar party is struggling to drown out the Obamamania buzz. Tonight, once Entertainment Weekly and Tara and Peter Guber fête Fox Searchlight’s Last King of Scotland, Little Miss Sunshine, Notes on a Scandal, and Thank You for Smoking (will we be allowed?), we’ll get back to the crucial business of debating the winners of statuettes, not primaries.
So we all know that the front-runners — the Hillary and Barack — are Forest and Helen. I love that you called them the King and Queen. I had a conversation yesterday with my pal Gail Levin, head of Paramount casting, about these “locks,” as you called them. We talked about the phenomenon of actors who play real people consistently beating out other great performers. How much do these roles rely on physical resemblances? When are they the embodiment of the person, and when are they mimicry? When are they impersonation, and when are they living, breathing performances? As for this year’s King and Queen, which is which? And why, for that matter, did Reese win and not Joaquin?
Look at the frequency of these types of nominations over the last 25 years or so: Gandhi (Ben Kinsgsley, ’82) and Capote (Phillip Seymour Hoffman, ’06) on the men’s side, Coal Miner’s Daughter (Sissy Spacek, ’80) and Walk the Line (Reese Witherspoon, ’05) on the women’s. Almost a third were won by actors playing real people. Is it easier? Harder? Why do we eat it up?
I think it has to do with the fact that the lives being played have so much magnitude before the actors step in. The roles have scale that ordinary lives (the wife in Little Children, the maid in Babel) never could. They teach us something. Then there are those parts — Daniel Day Lewis in My Left Foot, Geoffrey Rush in Shine — where we discover the extraordinary lives of real people who aren’t famous. We are moved by the power of that unearthed life. Adrien Brody’s beautiful turn in The Pianist, Hilary Swank’s pained courage as Brandon Tina, Julia Roberts as the crusading everywoman in Erin Brockovich, Charlize Theron bringing humanity to a murderer. The fact that these characters were real made all the difference. Agents and managers: On your mark, get set, go. Dreams of My Father has not yet been optioned.
On another note, David, after some diligent reporting, I have an answer to your question about whether — with Blood Diamond, the Geffen party, and the general political atmosphere — there’s now an increased sensitivity to the wearing of diamonds. The answer is no. I have never seen more diamond suites advertised in my life. At the Diamond Information Center, you can indulge in an African-inspired retreat featuring a traditional African healer and mineral massages; diamonds take the place of the usual hot stones and Dead Sea salts. Swiss jeweler de Grisogono, meanwhile, is flying in its “boisterous” cocktail rings and drop earrings dripping in diamonds. But all is not lost: At Melanie Segal’s Platinum Luxury Suite, a security detail will usher in a million-dollar, stone-encrusted Chi flatiron (what this is, we don’t know) and auction it off to benefit victims of blood diamonds. The industry has a conscience; you just have to search for it.
But all of this is only to gaze at. The coveted Oscar goody bag full of wildly expensive swag has been banned by the Academy. So has heavy campaigning — excluding ads in papers, since the publishers would throw a fit, and then promptly go out of business. Apart from discreet, small luncheons, there’s no more elaborate pre-voting parties at the motion-picture old-age home. (However, New York, far from the scolding eyes in L.A., is chockablock with bashes.) The glory days of Weinstein-inspired, over-the-top competitive indulgence are gone. I, for one, bemoan the loss of the madness, both on behalf of the first-time nominees and the Academy members who always reacted against the pressure but loved the attention nonetheless.
So I turn it over to you, David, and tomorrow morning’s post. How do you account for our attraction to actors playing real people? Is this an Academy thing or an American thing? And, please, why Reese and not Joaquin?
Love and diamonds,
Lynda
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When Are They Going to Award the Believable Behavers?
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Thursday, February 22, 2007 2:01 AM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: RE: Overcoming Obamamania
Dear Lynda:
Actors in biopics clean up at awards time because:
1. What you said: the magnitude of real lives, etc.
2. Biopics are character-driven, which means less emphasis on plot, which means better showcases for actors, who can focus on their “arcs” and epiphanies instead of staring at blue screens and pretending to be awed.
3. They have to transform (usually), so their acting is easier to see and, therefore, to reward. You hear, “What an amazing actor!” more often than, “What a believable behaver!” — although behaving believably onscreen is often the greater feat (which is why Oscar-deprived Kate Winslet might be the best actress of her generation).
I was going to write something like, “I think Joaquin Phoenix didn’t win because you couldn’t see his acting the way you could Philip Seymour Hoffman’s.” Except I loved Hoffman’s Capote. Both performances finally transcended mimicry. Both were miracles of sympathetic imagination. So why do we spend so much time brooding about why one actor is a “loser” and the other a “winner”? Why are we paid to? Why aren’t artists’ achievements valued in and of themselves? The other day I saw a King of the Hill rerun in which poor blobby Bobby tries to escape from the world of competition by growing roses — but Hank finds out and makes him enter a rose-growing competition. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. (Has King of the Hill won an Emmy?)
I’m sorry you miss the Harvey-inspired era of gross Oscar politicking. But if that means you and your Hollywood pals have more time (and David Geffen has more money) to invest in electing the junior senator from Illinois, I couldn’t be happier.
On a lighter note, what do you hear about the foreign-language award? Is Guillermo del Toro’s anti-fascist fairy tale still the strongest contender, or is the anti-totalitarian Stasi melodrama making inroads? Does the anti-racist French-Moroccan-Algerian picture have a shot? Or is the anti-patriarchal Indian movie the one to beat? I haven’t seen After the Wedding, so I don’t know what it’s opposed to, but I’m sure it’s something very bad.
Can you discern any movement in the bewildering Best Picture race?
Along with billions of other people all over the world, I use the presentation of the short subject awards, both live-action and animated, as the time for mixing a new batch of martinis: I haven’t seen the films, I don’t have a dog in the fight, I need more alcohol. But this year, thanks to Magnolia Pictures and Shorts International, I have seen all ten nominees — and I give a full account of the experience today on National Public Radio’s "Fresh Air." Here’s a preview: The shorts are, on the whole, surprisingly slick and mainstream. I like the chances of The Danish Poet (lovely) and the one-joke (but what a joke) West Side Story parody featuring Israelis and Palestinians trying to burn down each other’s fast-food emporiums.
Finally: Are you as astonished as I am by the idiocy of this year’s innovation, a backstage Webcam allowing winners to finish their thank-you speeches in the wings — leaving more time for sparkling banter between presenters? Why don’t Oscar producers ever get it through their heads that run-on acceptance speeches by drunken, desperately insecure exhibitionists are where the real magic happens?
David
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America Loves Competitions, Wacky Acceptance Speeches
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Friday, February 23, 2007 2:18 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: RE: Overcoming Obamamania
Dear David:
We spend all this time brooding over what’s the best performance, the best movie — because we love to. We pick the purest vodka, the finest wine, our favorite football team, the most marbled steak, the fattest tomato; we love to root, to choose and then to triumph or be deflated, to be right or to be angry. This is a way that we participate in the global Zeitgeist and map the undercurrents of the culture and how we individually track with it. Are we Crash or Brokeback people? But it doesn’t mean our obsession with the winner diminishes other performances. It’s true that it’s an honor to be nominated and the greatest ride of your life, yadda yadda. But without winners, there would be no wacky speeches, no cheering, no betting pools, no fun.
The wide-open Best Picture race: We are a town divided. People like The Departed and think it feels like a best picture, but I sense no real passion for it. They love Sunshine, but when, of course, has a comedy ever won? At this point, it’s about how the votes split. The actors, the largest branch of the Academy, will like both. Anything can happen; The Queen could even “crash” the winner's circle. I sensed a little nervousness in a Babel producer at the Obama reception, but that could have been the appropriate humility and fear.
I have seen the foreign films, but not the shorts. It’s either Water or The Lives of Others, a terrifying, brilliantly directed thing that made its German director, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, a hot Hollywood property.
This innovation of Laura Ziskin’s to put a Webcam backstage to catch the “spontaneous reactions” of the winners may be great for Oscar.com, but it’s definitely tragic for us TV fans. Now that I think of it, weren’t the Oscars — with Sacheen Littlefeather refusing Brando's award, Jack Palance doing one-handed push-ups, the stunning and unforgettable “You like me, you really like me” — the first reality TV?
Off to the parties tonight, where I gather the usual “No one will be surprised if …; no one will be shocked if …; tumblers will fall to the ground if …; limousines will crash if …; entourages will disperse if …; people will fall to the ground in their gowns in shock if …” for tomorrow.
Lynda
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In Anticipation of Gossip and Exhibitionism
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Saturday, February 24, 2007 1:09 PM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: The Parties
Dear Lynda:
At this point, my aesthetic judgments are even less relevant than earlier in the week. Now, it’s all about the parties, the nasty gossip, the things that no one will say publicly but will be reflected on the ballots—and become a part of Academy history. So I’m going to make life — my life, anyway — easier by interviewing you.
1) Do people in the industry think of The Departed as a great movie or just a way to honor a virtuoso director? Has there ever been a Best Picture that ended with virtually the entire cast’s brains splattered all over the walls?
2) Do people loathe Eddie Murphy and like Alan Arkin enough to throw the vote? What about Jackie Earle Haley — possibly the only winner for Little Children?
3) Will wins for Happy Feet and An Inconvenient Truth confirm that global-warming movies have the potential to serve society and compete for our entertainment dollars?
4) What has been the big topic of speculation about the show? The idiotic Webcam in the wings? Ellen? (I’m a big fan, and my hopes are high.) Anyone expecting any jabs at BushCo — and not just from Al Gore? Who are the loose cannons?
5) Who’s the big get at the parties? Is Brad Pitt — a Babel executive producer — in town with his SO? What about Sasha Baron Cohen? Is there anyone you’ve seen who has made your jaw drop, even as a producer who’s used to seeing movie stars?
6) And something for us to ponder: The death of Anna Nicole and the public disintegration of Britney have got to make showbiz folks think even more deeply about the horrific downside of exhibitionism. My hope is that it will — paradoxically — encourage more insane acting out this year.
That’s enough to keep you until tomorrow, when we’ll make our final predictions!
David
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It's in the Bag for Scorsese
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Saturday, February 24, 2007 3:14 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: Re: The Parties
Dear David,
Can I tell you about the parties? And I’ll get to your questions along the way. By the time I arrived at Bryan Lourd’s affair, the New York contingent (Graydon Carter, Fran Lebowitz) was leaving, and the line was ten minutes just to drop off your car at the valet. I was worried we had actually come too late, but no. Somehow, the coziness of Bryan’s sprawling architectural home, combined with his now traditional detail of camellia wrist corsages given to the women on our entrance, made the crush of wall-to-wall movie stars less unmanageable than I feared.
I meant to start asking everyone for their prognostications, I swear, as soon as I stopped bussing cheeks. But I was so disconcerted by the sight of George Clooney leaning against a table in rapt conversation with Daniel Craig — the two most handsome men I’d just about ever seen, laughing away, like a perfect buddy picture, but real — that I forgot everything for the longest time. Al Gore was holding court at the door with his divine daughter Kristin. Katie Holmes and Penélope Cruz were there. Apparently Sean Penn ran into ex-wife Madonna. Tabby stuff like this was happening everywhere, as always.
Happy Feet’s George Miller — my favorite director and person on earth, as you know — was chatting with fellow Best Animated Feature nominee Gil Keenan, of Monster House. They were deciding where to sit on Sunday and told me that they had both animated winning and losing characters for the presentation. Gil said he worked harder on the losing one and graciously told George he wanted him to win. This lack of Schadenfreude was so disconcerting that I needed a drink.
Finally I got around to my undercover job, and it was worse than I had suspected. A famous actress (who will go unnamed, of course) said she left Best Picture blank — one of many times I heard this. Peter O'Toole, who sat alone on a couch until I joined him, looked adorable and very relaxed. A recurring theme among women over 30 was that he was hot enough to have sex with. So even if he loses to Forest, his performance in Venus was extremely effective (and productive) nonetheless.
The most genuine emotion I heard all night was for Alan Arkin and Eddie Murphy: Best Supporting Actor is the race now. They’ve broken tradition and moved it to the back of the broadcast, so we have nothing to watch but stupid production numbers for the first three hours. The drama here comes down to love and hate. The very angry and passionate Dreamgirls contingent, who feel bitterly excluded, want more than just Jennifer Hudson, some technical awards, and songs. They want Eddie. It is also a bountiful, remarkable performance for an actor who has been dialing it in for years, and many in the Academy want to honor that.
But some actors might remember stories of Eddie's less-than generous behavior to co-stars on the sets of his run-of-the-mill comedies when they mark their ballots. And Alan Arkin might be a way to honor Little Miss if Departed starts looking like the depressing sweep it could become. He’s an actor’s actor, a great comedian who doesn’t work enough. It’s the star versus the New York actor: Up for grabs. I don’t see Jackie Earle Haley getting a leg in this race, though it is an honor for him to be nominated. (Sorry.)
The whole Departed contingent were at Ari Emanuel’s Endeavor party, where Sasha Baron Cohen, Mark Wahlberg, and Adam Sandler were the headliners until Marty Scorsese entered like a movie star, entourage and all, shielding himself from the photographers — so different from the years when he seemed to be campaigning. It was clear that it’s in the bag. There were many more potential winners at this party. It’s Endeavor's year at the Oscars. They have The Departed, and it has the mo. The love is strongest for that film among the young. But in general, people see it as a good bloody popcorn movie with terrific performances: not worthy of an Oscar, but the most Oscar-like of the nominated pictures.
I sat at a banquette and discussed Sunday night with my sister-in-law, a partner’s wife — she knows everything — and a crowd of agents. Everyone seemed to be delighted that Ellen was hosting, though I admitted to trying to talk Laura Ziskin into Martin Short months earlier. Ellen has apparently been instructed to be apolitical. (What is this, the Washington correspondent’s dinner? This is Hollywood, folks! This is our job, to offend!) Someone had heard, probably from Nikke Finke, that Sasha Baron Cohen was not going to be a presenter because they were afraid he was too uncontrollable — but it wasn’t yet settled, so there’s something to root for. The task of outraging has been left to the nominees, and not much time has been allotted for that. Cut, cut, cut were the instructions we heard from the last rehearsal, which ran some four hours plus.
At the valet, where the paparazzi literally roared, I asked a very smart manager (he delivered Lindsey Lohan to rehab) who he thought was going to win. "The Departed," he said. "And Little Miss Sunshine will come in third." "Who will come in second?" I asked. "No one," he answered.
Lynda
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And the Winners Are .
From: David Edelstein
Sent: Sunday, February 25, 2007 12:58 PM
To: Lynda Obst
Subject: Journey's End
Dear Lynda:
I thank you for that stirring account of life among the too beautiful and overpaid. I talk big in print (“Not up to snuff, Mr. Clooney”) but go agahhh-agahhh-agahhh when I see those kinds of stars in person. I am relieved to hear that mature women still find Peter O'Toole fuckable in the flesh, because you'd have to be a necrophile to want him as he's photographed in Venus.
What saddened me about yesterday's letter was the news that the host and the presenters have been warned to steer clear of politics. My God, George W. Bush has finally delivered on a promise: to be a uniter, not a divider. We are united as never before about his presidency and his war. Michael Moore's Bowling for Columbine speech looks better and better as the casualties — American and Iraqi—mount. I am sorry that I was in the chorus of naysayers at the time, agreeing with the message but just finding his manner so … so … rude. What I wouldn't give now to watch someone at the Oscars willing to stop the show the way he did.
Speaking of rude: I see that Sharon Stone and Basic Instinct 2 cleaned up at this year's Razzies. Lady in the Water would have gotten my vote because of its pretensions, but Shyamalan did win Worst Director and Worst Supporting Actor.
Okay, here are my Oscar predictions, gleaned from your reports and your own musings here:
Picture: The Departed (sigh — why do so many people love this movie??? Little Miss Sunshine was not on my Ten-Best list, but I would so like to see it win over The Departed).
Actor: Forest Whitaker.
Actress: Helen Mirren.
Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson.
Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy (sigh).
Director: Marty (as much, I hope, for Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, and Raging Bull …).
Original Screenplay: Little Miss Sunshine (but I love The Queen here).
Adapted Screenplay: The Departed (sigh).
Cinematography: Children of Men.
Editing: Schoonmaker for The Departed? She's great and will benefit from the Marty swell.
Foreign Language Film: The Lives of Others (it has the momentum).
Documentary: An Inconvenient Truth (can't wait to see Al in movie-star mode).
Live Short: West Bank Story.
Animated Short: The Danish Poet (Jeffrey Wells says The Little Match Girl).
Score: The Good German? Probably the best thing about the movie. I was surprised that Philip Glass’s egregious work in Notes on a Scandal had an Oscar — as opposed to a Razzie — nomination. But maybe the CD sounds good in the car …
President: Barack Obama.
I imagine Clint will present the Morricone Oscar — since those Leone spaghetti-Western scores, as much as anything, helped to cement his stardom.
I hope there are fewer montages. I hope the backstage Webcam breaks. I hope my beloved The Queen does better than expected. I hope we do not invade Iran.
Enjoy the show.
David
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Wistfully Wishing for Politics, Comedies, Chick Flicks, and Al Gore
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Sunday, February 25, 2007 3:33 PM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: RE: Journey's End
Dear David,
Maybe Al Gore will be that guy to bring politics to the Oscars tonight. This morning, the gang on This Week With George was still wistfully thinking he would declare for president when he grabs his statue tonight. If that happened, it would be news beyond a spectacular upset like Meryl beating Helen. I can report that Al was not, however, glad-handing or politicking Friday night at Mr. Lourd's. Sorry, Cokie. At least the former vice-president will clearly remind us of what would have happened if the recount went right.
If it's politics you want, root for Babel. My mother sure is: She's seen it three times. She's more than made up for those who won't see it at all. Mexiwood, as the L.A. Times cleverly called it this morning, is an inspirational and now studio-empowered source of filmmaking that broke into multiple genres this year — fantasy with Pan's Labyrinth, sci-fi with Children of Men, and what I will call the politico-triptych-narrative with Babel. If Iñárritu wins, you can count on him to give a very powerful speech. But alas, no one is expecting that particular upset this year.
My predictions:
Picture: The Departed. Potential upsets: Little Miss Sunshine, The Queen. Really hedging my bets here, as I have no idea.
Actor: Forest Whitaker.
Actress: Helen Mirren (props to Kate Winslet and Meryl Streep).
Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson (props to Adriana Barraza).
Director: Marty. There will be hoopla, surprise presenters, cheers, and tears. You will be moved.
Cinematography: Children of Men. The Academy loves this movie. It may get editing too.
Editing: This is the hardest award. United 93 was all editing. You are right; Thelma is Marty's lifelong collaborator, so that may lock this. I go with 93. It may be the way to single out this excellent picture.
Foreign Language Film: To be contrary, I am going with the moving Water. Though the crafty and scary Lives of Others is a hit in the community, Water is very "Academy," and wonderful, too. Either could win.
Doc is a lock: An Inconvenient Truth. Props this time to Jesus Camp.
Live Short: Didn't get to see them. You're in charge here, but I go with the Jews, as always, ergo: West Bank Story.
Animated Short: Ditto.
Score: The Queen.
Costumes (my fave chick category): Prada will probably win, but I loved Marie Antoinette.
Sound and Makeup: All these awards should go to Apocalypto but may not. It will be interesting to see the Academy's temperature on Mel.
President: Barack Obama. But you and I have been on this bandwagon for a while, haven't we?
I look forward to Tom Cruise giving Sherry Lansing her Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award. This will be very dull for you but is an inside joke in Hollywood. (Long story, but kind of a Paramount family reunion.) Also, Sherry is really a humanitarian, so that part isn't a joke. But I, too, hope these awards don't go on too long, and that Tom Cruise changes the Romulan haircut he sported Friday night. I hope that someone defies the cues to stop talking and gets so many cheers that everyone else does too, and they have to cut the numbers short instead of the speeches. I hope someone rambles on about his or her grandmother or spirit but not Jesus. I hope my beloved Little Miss Sunshine does better than expected, raining respect on comedies for years to come … and then paves the way in the not-too-distant future for Oscars for chick flicks.
Till we are both a few sheets to the wind …
xo
Lynda
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Let the Winners Speak!
From: Lynda Obst
Sent: Monday, February 26, 2007 11:43 AM
To: David Edelstein
Subject: The Aftermath
Dear David,
So it was the Departed mini-sweep we suspected it might be, all centered on the inevitable crowning of Marty as Best Director. From Editing on, it became a drumbeat, didn't it? But before that, the most interesting trend that I hadn't expected at all was the love showered on Pan's Labyrinth — for a minute, I thought I was watching the Independent Spirit Awards. Art Direction, Makeup, Cinematography! Why not Director? All these choices determine the look of the movie, all are made by the director, all complete his vision. There were many tough choices this year, with this movie coming out late in the voting season, but it is curious in retrospect that Del Toro himself was not nominated by the director's branch of the Academy.
My happiest moment, of course, was Alan Arkin winning. Yeah! Also, George Miller for Happy Feet and Forest for Idi. You could really get a sense of these guys before the totalitarian piano gang hooked them off stage. (The gang had the good sense to let Forest finish. They've seen what happens when that gentle soul gets angry.) The orchestra ruined one of my other favorite moments, too — Bill Monahan's speech. I loved when he said that Valium worked, because I might have said it, and it was real, as was everything he was trying to say, and well written, too; but then came the boot, and I got angry. Who actually thought fifteen more seconds of animated human forms, or clips that have nothing to do with one another, are more interesting than living breathing humans trying to connect, teetering at the precipice of ecstasy and embarrassment?
And did you have any idea whatsoever was going on in the Editing montage? I was utterly mystified by it — possibly because I'd just gotten a refill of tequila — and got into a debate with my guests. No, I said, it was impossible that (a) Michael Mann had cut it and (b) that it was about editing. I was overruled on both counts. So why all the flags and the shots of Cary Grant? Was I drunk, or was Michael Mann?
Every year we are burdened by this excess of lengthy montages and production numbers. The producer only has control over the hours and minutes of scripted time, and — with nothing else to do in the months leading up to the big night — there is an urge to fill all those moments down to the last detail, to make a mark with choices of presenter and tone and look, until the very nominees who are supposedly getting honored are left no time to bask in their own greatest glory. This Oscar presentation was all about control — even the jokes were about getting the show in on time. I say, your problem. Not our problem. We are here to hear something human, and all of that, except Forest, was drowned out by the dread piano.
In general, fun moments were few and far between. I was excited by all the lesbian suits — so many choices! Maybe Harvey Weinstein's girlfriend ought to consider a new side line in tuxedoes with encrusted jewels. This is clearly a growing market. I liked the costume display — but I would. I liked the waving of Mexican flags. More of this! So like a soccer match, tacky and fun. I found it riveting that, in all her interviews this week, Helen Mirren literally morphed into Elizabeth ll. No flack on the royal payroll can be worth what this film has done to regild the Crown. And did you notice that three African-Americans were nominated in the acting categories, and two won? Only four years ago, when Halle and Denzel won, it was a milestone that harkened back to Sidney Poitier; now it's business as usual. So in the end, there is something to be thankful for.
Till next year, off to the trenches,
Lynda
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Pigging Out With Oscar
To: Lynda Obst
Sent: Monday, February 26, 2007 1:38 PM
From: David Edelstein
Re: Last Year’s News
Hi Lynda:
The Oscars are such old news. Really, I went out for a hamburger last night and took a little walk (well, a half walk, half stumble) in the beautiful falling snow, and tens of thousands of bloggers filled the Internet with their musings. I wrote you last night that I had absolutely nothing to say and you didn’t think I had LITERALLY nothing to say, so I gather you were late for your post-Oscar party waiting for me and I’m so sorry.
New York threw a wee Oscar party of its own last night at the fab Spotted Pig, so my attention wasn’t 100 percent on the Academy Awards. At our party we had some Jersey Boys, Michael Stipe, Liev Schreiber (who’s name I ALWAYS have to retype because my word-processing program “corrects” it to “Live”), Chuck Schumer, Loren Dean (I got to tell him how much I liked Mumford, even if I called it Moosewood), Elias Koteas (who is very good in Zodiac) … assorted journalists, anchorpersons, politicians, those lovely gals from Gawker. Not the Vanity Fair Morton's party but quite respectable for New York in a snowstorm. There were cheers when Alan Arkin won: Too many people loathe Eddie Murphy for the way he has treated actors, directors — basically everyone.
There were entertaining bits all the way through, but the show never caught fire. It all seemed predestined, as if it had already happened, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. That’s the problem with muzzling presenters and making the trains run on time. (I was reminded why I stopped watching Saturday Night Live — because it felt like the least live show on TV, its cast having been terrified into submission regarding improvisation.)
I did manage to type a few notes in the course of the evening — but nothing about the Mann montage, I’m afraid. Was it meant as an essay in disjunction?
The little “fun facts” that accompanied the red-carpet interviews (“Penélope is interested in becoming a photographer” “Penélope is fluent in English”) were too retarded for words.
I loved Ellen for a while. (“Peter O’Toole, eighth nomination. You know what they say: Third time’s the charm!”) Then the gee-whiz-I-can’t-believe-I’m-hosting-the-Oscars act got tired and I wanted her to, uh, host the Oscars. It was cute, though, when she had Spielberg snap her picture with Eastwood. (I did feel bad for Mark Wahlberg, who had just lost and had to be on camera as Ellen did her shtick with Scorsese.)
Nicole Kidman looked way too skinny — mannequin-skinny. I bring this up as a matter of public health.
Jaden and Abigail were to die for, and it was nice to see a pair of presenters who weren’t drunk.
The Danish Poet and West Bank Story won … I pumped my fists and loudly congratulated myself for having called both awards. No one around me quite appreciated the feat.
You’re right about William Monahan’s speech. He was hugely likable — and it was good of him to cite Infernal Affairs by name. (I’m told that one of the DVD extras is a piece on the Boston gang that inspired the one in The Departed. Um, wasn’t it a Hong Kong gang? Or are they talking about the movie’s completely incongruous Jack Nicholson–as–Whitey Bulger twist?)
Emily Blunt, sigh …
Five Elizabeth II–Helen Mirren look-alikes modeling costumes from The Queen. So eerie. I scribbled: “Wouldn’t it be cool if one of them were real? Like, Queen Elizabeth could have snuck into the Oscars as one of the models — and no one would know!” (At that point, I think I had switched from wine to whiskey.)
After, like, years of horrific dresses, Gwyneth showed up in one that looked smashing.
Oh, man, is Al Gore a class act. Simple, elegant, heartfelt, having fun with people’s expectations but not to the point of self-parody. Let the wingnuts scream all they want that global warming is a hoax: They’ll just make themselves look like even bigger assholes.
Children of Men lost the cinematography award … for me, the only real surprise of the night. But seeing the colors of Pan’s Labyrinth — a blend of Goya and forties Disney — brought back how gorgeous it was.
Clint screwed up his Morricone intro and said he should have worn his glasses. When did he get so old? When did I?
Marty got his Oscar. Surprise. Now the man who gave us Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, and Raging Bull can finally look in the mirror and call himself a winner. How fucked up is that?
Yes, you are right, regarding Dame Helen: The rehabilitation of Buckingham Palace is complete. Who’d a thunk, watching My Beautiful Launderette, that Stephen Frears would turn into a royalist? And who’d a thunk I’d approve?
Forest Whitaker: a poetic soul.
As Marty and The Departed people gave their final thanks, I wanted the Little Miss Sunshine cast to rush the stage and do a little striptease. But it wasn’t that kind of night.
Time to begin the handicapping for Oscars 2008 …
David
New York Magazine Jan.
23 - Feb. 26, 2007