The Oscar Project #35: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

by Chris Marshall:

Is it possible to acknowledge a film as great but not particularly like it? To admire a movie for its craftsmanship and the technical skill required to pull it off but not actually enjoy the time you spent doing so? Because that’s the overarching feeling I have after watching Lawrence of Arabia.

As was the case with Mutiny on the Bounty, I have memories of this film from my childhood despite never having watched it before. Specifically, I remember it coming on TV in “letterbox format,” meaning it had big black bars at the top and bottom of the screen, and I couldn’t imagine why anybody would want to watch a movie like that. I was told that you could actually see more of the picture in that format, which was totally baffling to me. How can you get more with less?

Fast forward 18 years to a time when I can make sense of this seeming paradox, and now I won’t watch a movie any other way; full screen DVDs aren’t worth the discs they’re printed (is that the word I want?) on. Now that I’ve watched Lawrence of Arabia, I also understand why it is so critical to watch this film in particular in widescreen format.

The Oscar Project #34: West Side Story (1961)

by Chris Marshall:

For all the mean things I’ve said about musicals in the last few posts, I really don’t hate them. There are just plenty of other things I’d rather be watching, especially in cases, as with West Side Story and The Sound of Music, where I’ve seen the movies before. I feel like I’m not really adding anything to my life by sitting through them again.

But I’m no cheater, and the rules of this project state that I have to watch every movie, even if I’ve seen it before. Early on, that didn’t matter much, because Casablanca was the only movie I had seen before 1950. As we get closer to the modern era, though, I’ve seen more of the winners, and it can feel a little tedious re-watching things.

This is doubly true when dealing with films that are almost three hours long. I appreciate West Side Story, but I don’t love it, certainly not in the same way that I do The Godfather, which I’m looking forward to seeing again. Perhaps I was a little too resentful of its existence when I watched it this time around, but I’m trying to be fair nevertheless.

Mike Reviews Diablo 3...and then plays some more

Blizzard has always felt like a revolutionary company. They have flagship games: Starcraft, Warcraft, Diablo and World of Warcraft all seemed to revolutionize-- or at the very least carve an independent niche in – the strategy, role playing and massively online roleplaying genres. I don’t think any other video game companies can claim this kind of success. So when you fast-forward 10 years or so past the debut of these great games, and it’s time to make a sequel, what happens?

It’s not that Diablo 3 isn’t a good game. I’ve logged way, way too many hours since it came out Tuesday night, and I genuinely enjoy playing it (even on a lag-riddled, slow computer). But...it feels like it’s a sequel and nothing more. Blizzard has dropped the revolutionary attempts to change something fundamental about what everyone else is doing and opted for a graphics reboot with some fun gameplay. All their improvements or changes feel like Blizzard is following some of the current trends (little penalty for in-game death, skill sets that aren’t locked in stone) and not making them.

The Oscar Project #33: The Apartment (1960)

by Chris Marshall:

I don’t know what the deep and profound significance of this is, but the first year of each decade produces some pretty great movies. So far, years ending in 0 have brought us All Quiet on the Western Front, Rebecca, All About Eve, and now The Apartment. That’s a pretty fine list there.

There is just so much to like about The Apartment, not least of which is the fact that it’s directed by Billy Wilder. I’ve seen four of his films now (this, Double Indemnity, The Lost Weekend, and Sunset Blvd.), and I’ve loved them all. That is a pretty disparate group of genres to attain mastery in. When Michael Hazanavicius won Best Director this year for The Artist, he said, “I want to thank Billy Wilder, I want to thank Billy Wilder, and I want to thank Billy Wilder.” It’s easy to understand why.

There is such depth in his filmography that it almost defies belief. In addition to the aforementioned films, he also directed Some Like It Hot, Ace in the Hole, Stalag-17, Witness for the Prosecution (and so on). I stop there lest this entire article turn into a list of movies, but Wilder’s filmography merits a mention. He’s made more great movies than most directors make decent ones.

The Oscar Project Interlude #3: Best of the 1950s

by Chris Marshall:

Holy schlamoly, it’s time for the 1960s! It feels like I’ve been doing this project my entire life, but I’ve actually been watching the movies for only a month a half. I’ve watched a lot of movies this year in addition to The Oscar Project, though. In fact, as of the time I’m writing this post, I just watched my 100^th movie of the year!

I thought about dedicating a post just to that milestone, but I ultimately decided to incorporate it into this interlude post. I figured I’d already said everything I have to say about the 1950s as a whole; it had the beginning of modern musicals, some pleasant surprises, a lot of long/overlong films, and a couple of major disappointments. For those of you who don’t want to read about my year of movie watching in excruciating detail, my Best of the 1950s list is at the bottom of the post.

Mike Reviews Phoenix

Here's a joke about Phoenix having not yet risen from the ashes, or something. Ha.

Welcome to Phoenix, one of the fastest growing cities in the United States! In case you didn’t know, Phoenix is home to such things as an enourmous (and british spellings) Sheraton hotel, a museum of musical instruments (where all but 30 countries have instruments represented!), and a crazy-cool wire suspension thing that lights up at night that's right next to train station and is definitely not the best place to go to at night or alone at any point.

I was really ready to go to Phoenix. I thought this would be some crazy bustling city (it has like 5 million people that live here) and the downtown would be bumping. I was completely wrong. This was basically a ghost town, and I was right in the middle of downtown. There was no one around. I’ve never felt more safe walking around in a city down dark alleys at night. It was just empty. It was like they could shoot apocalypse movies here without having to clear anyone out.

The Oscar Project #32: Ben-Hur (1959)

by Chris Marshall:

The first time I watched Ben-Hur, it was over a full week in Coach Phil Webb’s 10^th grade world history class. I have some doubts about the veracity of many of the events depicted, but it seemed like a good way to spend class time back then. When I watched it this time, I only took three days, a marked improvement.

It’s not because I didn’t like it, but why oh why did it have to be so long? Gone with the Wind is officially the longest Best Picture winner, but it also had a musical prologue, entr’acte, and epilogue, in addition to the intermission. Take all those out, and I’m willing to bet it’s no longer than Ben-Hur, which clocked in at 3 hours, 31 minutes.

I know I complain about movie length too much. I just wonder why the Academy has never realized that just because a movie is the longest doesn’t mean it’s the best. I admittedly haven’t seen either (yet), but I’m willing to bet that North by Northwest and Some Like It Hot, both of which came out in 1959, would both give Ben-Hur a run for its money.

When I met Someone who Defined My Childhood (At Comic-Con)

At Comic-Con, the A-list personalities had their own wall, but a lot of smaller personalities had booths, like authors of fantasy series, or respected artists, or actors that couldn’t quite make the Big Wall. I was walking around, when I turned the corner to see, no joke, my favorite author of all time, Michael A. Stackpole. This was a guy I started reading in 5^th grade (my first “real” books) and kept reading through college (and now). He wrote Star Wars books, so I read his stuff and all the other ones other people wrote. Then I saw he wrote Battletech books, so I read his stuff and all the others. He turned to fantasy, so I followed him and read all his stuff and then all the other good guys like Robert Jordan and George R.R. Martin. Also, he's awesome.

The Oscar Project #31: Gigi (1958)

by Chris Marshall:

Believe it or not, Gigi is a pretty good movie. When I see a period piece musical set in France, the last thing I expect is to like it, but here we are. 

Leslie Caron, who we last saw in An American in Paris, plays the title role so well that I completely forgot about how much I didn’t like her character in that film. It had nothing to do with her, but nothing happened to make me care. In Gigi, though, she’s charming, devious, mischievous, a sort of primordial Juno, if Juno were less abrasive.

Indeed, it is the performances as a whole, rather than the musical numbers themselves, that make this movie so effective. Alongside Caron, Louis Jordan is also tremendous as Gaston, the upper-class socialite/playboy who ultimately falls for Gigi. And Maurice Chevalier as the quasi-narrator Honoré is extremely enjoyable as well .

Crossing one off the Bucket List: Comic-Con

Hey ladies

Could there be a better coincidence than arriving in Phoenix for a conference only to find Comic Con is also in town? I’m guessing there’s a lot of overlap between attendees, so maybe they were just making it convenient for everyone. We played the “are they going to Comic Con or are they a professor” game, and it got pretty tough pretty quickly.

It was pretty hard to hide how excited I was for this. Going to Comic Con has always been on my bucket list, and to have some free time to just hop on over and go was an opportunity that couldn’t be passed over. I speak nerd very well, but comics are definitely not my specialty, so I still felt a bit out of my element. Of course, not having an anime costume was a real problem.

The Oscar Project #30: The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)

by Chris Marshall:

I should really stop having expectations when I go into these movies. I don’t mean expecting a movie to be good or bad but the more basic level of what the film is even about. I knew that The Bridge on the River Kwai took place in a POW camp during World War II, but outside of that, it was completely different from what I thought it would be.

I figured it would be about the deplorable conditions the British soldiers faced in the camp and how they were forced to build the bridge against their will, all while struggling to survive the horrendous situation they found themselves in. That really wasn’t the case at all, though.

Sure, that’s more or less how it started. We start out seeing the American Navy prisoner (played by William Holden) digging graves in a well-populated cemetery, obviously leading to the conclusion that many soldiers had died there already. When the British contingent arrives, the camp leader, Colonel Saito, informs them that everyone, officers included, will have to do manual labor. When Lieutenant Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness) objects, citing the Geneva Convention’s mandate that officers not be used for manual labor, Saito rips it in half. This could be trouble.

Mike Reviews the Westin Hotel

Woah, this place is ritzy. But like, it’s modern ritzy. All the lampshades are square and there are the walls with water running down them and there is art deco (though I’m not exactly sure what that is) and stuff. This building is basically a skyscraper. It’s huge. And the people are all like “how are you, sir” when you walk in, cuz hey, it’s nice to be appreciated. You walk inside down this weird twisting corridor towards the elevators. You make something like a left and two rights just to get to the elevator, passing by such things as their in-hotel convenience store and some purple/blue glass art hanging on the wall. The highlight of this walk down the hallways to who-knows-where is the “library” which consists of some chairs and a few hundred books, ALL WRAPPED IN WHITE BOOK COVERS. So, you have no idea what the books are. I checked a few – the Immaculate Deception, and some stuff on stock buying- but the Westin is clearly making a social commentary here. I mean, it’s not about the books, right? It’s about having them. D/Touche, Westin.

The Oscar Project #29: Around the World in 80 Days (1956)

by Chris Marshall:

I’ve never read Jules Vernes’s novel Around the World in 80 Days, so I don’t know how closely the film version sticks to the source material. In the movie, at least, we do see Phileas Fogg make a trip around the world, and in doing so, we see lots and lots of semi- to fully-racist depictions of various cultures and ethnic groups.

Ok, so maybe it’s not always racist, but it is always stereotypical. First, though, just some quick background information. For a movie that’s over two and a half hours long, Around the World in 80 Days is surprisingly light on plot. Fogg (played by David Niven) is a British aristocrat whose entire life is run by clocks; he’s the world’s most punctual man. He’s also incredibly particular about his routine. His meals must be served at exactly the same minute every day. His bathwater has to be at precisely the right temperature and not even one degree off. It’s too much for his assistant to take, so he quits.

Fogg can’t survive without an assistant, however, and he immediately hires a man named Passepartout. Passepartout has a French name, is played by a Mexican actor named Cantinflas (yes, Cantinflas), and in the movie seems to be from Spain. Or maybe we’re supposed to believe he actually is from France. I don’t remember anybody ever saying for sure.

The Oscar Project #28: Marty (1955)

by Chris Marshall:

Marty, at just over 90 minutes long, is the shortest Best Picture winner in history[1], but it’s also one of the most enjoyable, surprising movies I’ve watched so far during The Oscar Project. It was the first of three films written by Paddy Chayefsky to win the Best Screenplay Oscar (the others being The Hospital and Network). Only Woody Allen has matched that feat.

And the writing was pitch-perfect. If you’ve seen Network, a masterpiece in its own right, you’ll understand what this man was capable of. He knew how to hit exactly the right notes at every moment.

Until this point, no winner has had a smaller scale. In the early years of the award, of course, the Academy tended to favor sprawling, drawn-out epics. The tide has begun to turn a little bit in recent years, but even next year’s winner, Around the Worldin 80 Days, has a gigantic scope. In this sense, Marty sticks out like a sore thumb.

The Oscar Project #27: On the Waterfront (1954)

by Chris Marshall:

Even after all the amazing accomplishments in Elia Kazan’s career, I still can’t help but immediately associate him with his 1952 testimony before the HUAC, in which he outed several of his colleagues as Communists or Communist sympathizers. It’s not like he even did any real harm; all of the people he named were already “known” Communists. But it’s the principle of the thing, and he worked for the enemy.

Many people in Hollywood never forgot or forgave him, either. When Kazan received his honorary Academy Award in 1999, several actors refused to stand to applaud him. I do forgive him (as if that mattered), but it’s hard not to associate that event with On the Waterfront, which won Best Picture two years after his Congressional testimony.

Why? Because On the Waterfront is a story about evil unions, those corrupt bastions of Communist iniquity. Terry Malloy just wants to live a peaceful life and have a nice job, but like so many of the longshoremen around him, he gets dragged into the unsavory world of organized crime. And once you’re in, it’s hard to get out.

The Oscar Project #26: From Here to Eternity (1953)

by Chris Marshall:

Sometimes I know a lot about a movie before I watch it, and sometimes I just think I know a lot about a movie before I watch it. From Here to Eternity falls into the latter category. Most people who haven’t seen it, I would imagine, know about only the scene that I did: Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr lying in the waves.

This scene alone makes it seem like the movie will be a romance, and it’s true that there are romantic elements involved. That being said, though, the film as a whole is certainly not a romance.

Well, what is it then? I’d argue that it’s just a straight drama, like so many of the Oscar winners that came before it. It skirts the line between many different possibilities. There are the romantic parts, but you could also make an argument that it’s a war movie. Most of the main characters are soldiers, and it takes place (mostly) six months before the bombing of Pearl Harbor. And yes, all of the action occurs in Hawaii.

The Oscar Project #25: The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)

by Chris Marshall:

The Greatest Show on Earth is definitely not great, and I’m not entirely convinced it took place on Earth. The circus is a bizarre, frightening place that shares only the most basic similarities with our planet; it is populated by humans, some of which look like people you’ve actually seen before in your life. Most do not.

1952’s Best Picture winner allows you to spend over two and a half hours with this collection of life forms, and I, at least, did not feel particularly enriched for having done so. The whole thing takes place within the confines of a traveling circus. While some children may dream of running away and joining circus, I wanted nothing more than to run away from the circus itself and never go back.

The best I can tell, the movie is just an excuse to show various unrelated circus acts in glorious Technicolor, but there is a main story holding everything together (very loosely). There’s a love triangle—just like every other Oscar winner, it seems like—except this one is a little different because it involves Charlton Heston[1] and two trapeze artists. Everything was going fine between Brad (Heston) and Holly until The Great Sebastian, the world’s premiere trapeze act, joined the tour. But Sebastian, quite typically for a Frenchman, ruined everything.

The Oscar Project #24: An American in Paris (1951)

by Chris Marshall:

Seven years ago (in Oscar Project time), I made the comment that Going My Way was a kinda sorta musical in that Bing Crosby sang a couple of songs, but it still didn’t feel like what I think of as a musical; I said similar things about The Broadway Melody and The Great Ziegfeld as well. Well, 1951’s An American in Paris fits all the criteria of a “real musical.” In fact, there was almost nothing but songs and dance numbers.

When I think about dancers in the movies, Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire are always the first names I think of. Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain is usually considered the greatest example of this genre, but An American in Paris was the one that won the big prize. From what I understand, it was quite revolutionary; people had really never seen anything like it before.

But did I like it? I’d be hard pressed to say that I did. I appreciated the dancing (and some of the singing), but most of the time it was difficult to figure out what the dance numbers had to do with anything. Then again, I suppose the plot in these movies will always be of secondary importance; Marshall McLuhan famously said “the medium is the message,” but here the music is the message. People don’t watch this kind of movie for the story.

The Oscar Project #23: All About Eve (1950)

by Chris Marshall:

The 1950s are here at last! That means we’re about halfway through the Hays Code era, and we’re moving toward a period where there’s more innovation and risk-taking in cinema than ever before. But not as far as the Oscars are concerned! I’m in for two decades dominated by musicals (An American in Paris, Gigi, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, Oliver!) and huge, sprawling epics (The Greatest Show on Earth, Around the World in 80 Days, The Bridge on the River Kwai, Ben-Hur, Lawrence of Arabia). The good news is that it will lead into the 1970s, perhaps the finest of all Oscar decades.

More good news is that 1950’s winner, All About Eve, is an absolute classic, and although I’d seen it before, it was a pleasure to watch again. In some ways, it feels like a (better made) companion piece to All the King’s Men. Both Willie Stark and Eve Harrington rise to power—in politics and theatre, respectively—and along the way they both abandon all scruples, assuming they had any to begin with.

Despite all the villainy that Willie Stark was responsible for, though, I believe that Eve is actually the more sinister of the two. In his early years, Stark was portrayed as an honest, genuine man, one who actually believed in the ideals he promoted; he was just particularly susceptible to the trappings of power. Eve, on the other hand, was sinister and manipulative from the very beginning. From the moment she first met Margo Channing (Bette Davis), she was plotting her rise to the top.

The Oscar Project Interlude #2: Best of the 1940s

by Chris Marshall:

But what about the movies themselves? There were pros and cons to the 1940s. On one hand, there wasn’t a Great Ziegfeld moment where I absolutely hated the movie and couldn’t wait for it to be over. On the other hand, only two of the films seemed truly great. Granted, Casablanca is one of the greatest movies ever made, regardless of decade, so I should be grateful that was one of them.

Without further ado, my rankings for the 1940s:

1.       Casablanca (1943)

2.       Rebecca (1940)

3.       The Lost Weekend (1945)

4.       The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

5.       All the King’s Men (1949)

6.       Hamlet (1948)

7.       How Green Was My Valley (1941)

8.       Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

9.       Going My Way (1944)

10.   Mrs. Miniver (1942)

See what I mean? If you’ve been reading every post, as I know you have, you’ll remember that I didn’t say anything particularly negative about any of those movies. The worst comment I made about Mrs. Miniver was that it was forgettable (true enough), but I have no animosity toward it. I don’t regret the time we spent together.

The Oscar Project #22: All the King's Men (1949)

by Chris Marshall:

I went into All the King’s Men knowing that it was loosely based on the life and career of Huey P. Long, so I was more than a little confused when I saw how positively he (well, Willie Stark, the main character of this movie) was being portrayed in the first half of the movie. He was this honest man who cared about the people. Of course, the corrupt bigwigs made life as difficult as possible for him, and he lost.

But Willie Stark is no quitter. After being defeated in his run for city council, he studies law on his own, gets his degree, and starts his own practice. He’s a huge success, and everybody loves him. He’s willing to fight for the common man.

There’s bad news on the horizon, though. Those same fatcats who held him down and harassed him now want to use him for their own benefit. There’s a challenger who’s gaining lots of support, and they need a patsy to siphon off votes from the competition, clearing the way for their guys to win again. They call up Willie, knowing there’s no way he can win on his own. He agrees, but he doesn’t know he’s been set up. He begins his candidacy once again.

The Oscar Project #21: Hamlet (1948)

by Chris Marshall:

"I don't see why people admire that play so. It is nothing but a bunch of quotations strung together."

I have a confession to make. I taught 8^th grade English for a while. I took an entire class on Shakespeare. I’ve been alive for almost 27 years. And yet this was the first time I have ever seen/read/absorbed any version of Hamlet. Of course I knew the story, but it was learned entirely through osmosis. I think The Simpsons did a version of it. In any event, I’d never seen it.

The quote at the beginning of the post comes from Isaac Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare (though he was quoting somebody else at the time), and it’s easy to see why somebody might think that way. It seems like every line is a famous quotation or phrase that has become commonplace in the English language. To thine own self be true. Brevity is the soul of wit. Murder most foul. The primrose path. Mind’s eye. And the entire “to be or not to be” soliloquy. It all came from Hamlet.

The Oscar Project #20: Gentleman's Agreement (1947)

by Chris Marshall:

There have been several instances so far where I have been pleasantly surprised by a movie, where I expected to dislike it going in and found that it was actually really good. It is with a heavy heart that I say Gentleman’s Agreement was exactly the opposite.

I guess that on some level I had no expectations at all; it’s one of those movies that I knew absolutely nothing about before I started this project. But before I watched it, I learned that it had a very interesting premise. Gregory Peck goes undercover as a Jew in order to expose the harsh realities of anti-Semitism in the United States. That sounded way more progressive than most films made in the late 1940s, and it seemed like an obvious precursor to Peck’s role as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird.

Unfortunately, the concept was much greater than the execution. The plot just seemed to wander aimlessly, and it never really made a compelling point. I know there were millions of limitations on what they could show at the time, but it still felt like they weren’t willing to take any real chances.

So I was 30 Minutes Late for my Thesis Defense

There was never a more appropriate time for this face.

I suppose it didn't help that I went to bed at 4am last night. I suppose it didn't help that yesterday was really stressful, or that I waited probably too long to finish my presentation slideshow (but still got it done). It probably didn't help that I scheduled my presentation at 9am, and it definitely didn't help that I trusted a phone that likes to shut off for no reason.

The Oscar Project #19: The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

by Chris Marshall:

In some sense, The Best Years of Our Lives is a war film, but it tells a much different story than the ones we are used to. It is concerned with a different type of battle, specifically the struggles faced by soldiers returning from World War II. The three main protagonists were no longer fighting for life and death; instead, they were struggling to regain a sense of normalcy that had been lost in their years overseas.

The three leads—Homer, Fred, and Al—begin the film attempting to get back to their home town, the fictional Boone City. It’s located somewhere in the Midwest, and it appears to be a suburb. The details are never explicitly discussed, but it’s small enough so that the three men, who were complete strangers until the trip back home, find their lives to be completely intertwined over the following weeks.

All three came from very different walks of life. Dale grew up in poverty and married a woman he barely knew days before he shipped out. Al is older, married for 20 years with a teenage daughter, and is a banker; he even has a promotion waiting for him upon his return. But he’s also an alcoholic, which being home only serves to exacerbate. Homer comes from a middle class family and has a fiancée, but his struggle is the most difficult of all. He lost both of his hands in the navy and has hooks as replacements.

The Oscar Project #18: The Lost Weekend (1945)

by Chris Marshall:

There are bad weekends, and then there is The Lost Weekend. Don Birnam, a failed writer played by Ray Milland, is an alcoholic. His brother and fiancée (played by Jane Wyman, who was Mrs. Ronald Reagan at the time) have done everything in their power to help him, but it’s just no use. In a last-ditch effort to save him, Don’s brother has planned a weekend getaway, just the two of them, so Don can stay distracted and hopefully get some writing done. Things do not go as planned.

It’s too bad that Don can’t put as much thought into his novel as he does into hiding his booze. He knows that his brother has learned most of his tricks, and the first ten or so minutes of the movie are all about his efforts to smuggle a bottle of liquor into his suitcase for the trip. The lengths that he is willing to go to effectively set up the extent of his alcoholism. This man is a serious addict, which makes it even more devastating when his plans are foiled.

Nevertheless, Don is an intelligent guy, and he won’t be stopped so easily. After convincing his brother to go to a show with his fiancée before they catch their train, he learns that a $10 bill is in the kitchen; it’s payment for the cleaning lady. Don steals it, goes to the bar, and has a few drinks. Nobody will notice, he figures, as long as he gets back before the show is over.

Chris and Mike Watch a Scary Movie: The Last Exorcism

This picture never happens in the movie. Neither does anything interesting.

Chris and I decided to do a column where we stay up late and watch a scary movie from our houses at the same time, and chat during. Tonight's feature: The Last Exorcism, starring a shaky cam, questionable fathers, surprise-murdering brothers, and Abalam. This is pretty much one big spoiler.

The Oscar Project #17: Going My Way (1944)

by Chris Marshall:

Musicals ain’t what they used to be. Or maybe more accurately, when I see a movie described as a musical, I expect something much different from what’s on display in Going My Way. There’s music, sure, and songs, but it’s nothing like West Side Story or Chicago or anything like that. It’s basically a straight drama with three or four songs mixed in just so we get to hear the sound of Bing Crosby’s voice.

Which isn’t to say it’s a bad movie, because it’s not. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it falls into the same quality category as How Green Was My Valley and Mrs. Miniver. They’re all okay. Not great, but pretty good. Then again, I guess everything seems pretty good after you’ve seen The Great Ziegfeld.[1]

The premise is simple. Bing Crosby is a priest, and he is brought in to save a church from going under. The only problem is that the old priest (literally, he’s like 900 years old) doesn’t know that Bing is in charge. They get along poorly at first, as one might imagine, but the old man soon realizes that Bing is pretty close to a saint, and he eventually changes his tune.

The Oscar Project #16: Casablanca (1943)

by Chris Marshall:

Amazingly, Casablanca was the earliest Best Picture winner I had ever seen before starting this project. I think I’ve watched it twice previously all the way through, and I was amazed even when I first saw it as a middle schooler. There’s absolutely nothing bad to say about it.

You know the story already. Rick runs a successful restaurant/café in Casablanca at the beginning of the Second World War. He is not a political man; he doesn’t stick his neck out for anybody. He has no interest in showing favoritism toward either the French or the Germans. He’s in exile from the United States for unspecified reasons, but this helps him remain neutral. He isn’t burdened by patriotism.

There’s no reason to go through all the details of the story, as they are already well known. The story itself is only one reason why this film is so revered, but that fact should not obscure its brilliance. It’s a love story, a morality tale, and a character study all rolled into one. If Rick, Ilsa, and Laszlo weren’t so well developed, the story would have lost all its power.

The Oscar Project #15: Mrs. Miniver (1942)

by Chris Marshall:

We are now into the heart of World War II. Mrs. Miniver was the first Best Picture winner produced after the United States became involved in the war, and it was also the first winner to mention the war at all. Casablanca and The Best Years of Our Lives will also involve the war, but they are set before and after American involvement.

Mrs. Miniver, on the other hand, takes place right in the middle of wartime London. Miniver herself is a housewife, her son is in the Air Force, and her husband was an architect who volunteered his boat (and himself) to evacuate some troops from Dunkirk. As you might expect, the son is called off to war and thus separated from his girlfriend, who is the daughter of a rich person they know somehow or another.

Is any of this sounding familiar? It’s very different in form and tone, but the storyline of middle-class child (whose family still somehow has its own maid and cook) falling in love with the child of rich family is basically the same thing as You Can’t Take It With You. Yes, the genders are reversed, and neither actor has the charm of Jimmy Stewart or Jean Arthur, but the similarities are still striking, right down to the feelings of superiority displayed by the wealthy parent(s).

The Oscar Project #14: How Green Was My Valley (1941)

by Chris Marshall:

If you’ve followed The Oscar Project so far, or if you’re somewhat familiar with the early history of the Best Picture award, then you might have realized that the winners up to this point have been predominately focused on rich people. So far, only the two war films (Wings and All Quiet on the Western Front) and Mutiny on the Bounty have been primarily focused on non-wealthy protagonists.

In this sense, it was refreshing to see a movie that was about characters who are, if not necessarily poor, at least somewhere near the lower class. How Green Was My Valley centers around a family of coal miners in Wales, particularly the youngest son, played by Roddy McDowall, who you might know better as Caesar from Planet of the Apes.

Despite breaking socio-economic trends, it kept some others going. It was the fourth of five consecutive winners based on either plays or novels, and it stuck to the tradition of not using actors from the country the movie is about. Only one Welsh actor was used for this film, and it was a minor role. This resulted in some of the more bizarre accents I’ve heard. I’ll admit that I’m not an expert on Welsh phonology, but I’ve never in my life heard anybody talk like they do here.

It’s always risky to base a movie entirely around the performance of young actors. For every gifted child actor, there are dozens more who come across as hokey and unbelievable. McDowall , though not great, is competent enough not to be distracting, and he’s vomit-inducingly cute enough to keep you from holding his flaws against him. I kept expecting him to say “God bless us, everyone!” every time he showed up on screen.

The Oscar Project #13: Rebecca (1940)

by Chris Marshall:

Ah, Rebecca. I knew a little bit about it going in, but it was only at the most superficial level. It was Alfred Hitchcock’s only Best Picture winner. It was based on the novel by Daphne du Maurier. It was something of a melodrama.

Other than the Hitchcock connection, none of those tidbits made me particularly excited about watching it. Then I learned it co-starred Laurence Olivier. Ok, he’s pretty good. Then I found out that it was more of a psychological thriller than a straight drama. All right, even better. Then I actually watched the thing.

And it was really good! The true star of the film, Joan Fontaine, turned in an immaculate performance as the brand new bride of the recently widowed Maxim de Winter (Olivier). As I started to write this, I realized I could not remember what her character’s name was; when I looked it up, I discovered that she was never given one, despite being in almost every scene. If she needed to be spoken to directly, it was always “Mrs. de Winter.”

Oh, and Rebecca’s dead. That’s important. The film’s namesake was Maxim’s first wife, who died in a drowning accident. According to some of her family members, the circumstances were quite suspicious indeed.

The Oscar Project Interlude #1: Best of the 1920s/1930s

Photo from the 1937 Academy Awards Ceremony

by Chris Marshall:

I have now finished a full decade of Best Picture winners (plus a couple from the 1920s), and at the conclusion of each decade, I will rank the films based on which ones I most enjoyed watching. This is not a statement about technical merit or historical significance; it’s about what I like the most. At the beginning of the project, I decided against assigning ratings to individual movies because I fall into the trap of thinking about the film in terms of stars or point systems rather than simply focusing on the movie itself. With 12 years under my belt, however, I feel like I need to somehow quantify what I’ve seen.

My favorite of the decade.

Top 12 of 1927-1939
1. It Happened One Night (1934)
2. Gone with the Wind (1939)
3. The Life of Emile Zola (1937)
4. Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)
5. You Can’t Take It with You (1938)
6. Grand Hotel (1932)
7. All Quiet on the Western Front(1930)
8. Wings (1927)
9. The Broadway Melody (1928)
10. Cimarron (1931)
11. Cavalcade (1933)
12. The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the top spots come from the second half of the 1930s (#1 being the exception). The first few winners were produced during the infancy of talkies, and it was obvious that nobody was really comfortable with the new technological capabilities. Starting in 1934, though, the craftsmanship and visual appeal started to improve drastically. Even The Great Ziegfeld, which was one of my more excruciating cinematic experiences, looked pretty good.

Manly Things at BWWs: "Jailtime" Mayweather vs. "YOLO" Cotto

Turtleneck!

Everything I know about boxing can be summed up with Rocky movies and Ali documentaries. I wasn’t sure what to expect walking into BWWs to watch the SUPERWELTERWEIGHT WORLD SUPREME TITLE CHAMPIONSHIP, but I had heard of Mayweather and that ought to count for something. The place was pretty packed, so this looked like a Big Deal.

I’m still undecided on how I feel about boxing. It’s this really weird combination of violent bloodsport, a gentleman’s duel, an athletic event and a beauty pageant. It’s even crazier when you realize Mayweather walks home with a cool $32 million, regardless of whether he wins or loses. UFC seems to have more clearly drawn lines, with less history and pageantry and more blood –but also less blows to the head-- and I wonder if boxing can keep up with UFC anymore.

There were three “undercard” fights, which were notable only for how few people seemed to care. Most of these consisted of a really young up-and-comer boxer against a really old, near the end of his career boxer. I imagine all the old guys calling the new ones “young pup” in the locker room. These fights seemed even more brutal than the main one, whether it was because they were less trained or because you watch someone going to the hall of fame getting whupped on by a 20 year old.

The Oscar Project #12: Gone With The Wind (1939)

by Chris Marshall:

“It has arrived at last, and we cannot get over the shock of not being disappointed; we had almost been looking forward to that.”

Frank S. Nugent wrote those words in his 1939 New York Times review of Gone with the Wind, and 73 years later, I felt exactly the same way. It’s the first of the Oscar winners with a serious reputation, and it’s one of the most famous movies ever made. But it is also a period piece and clocks in just shy of four hours long. I thought there was no way it could live up to the hype.

But it did. I was captivated the whole way through. It had the scope and feel of a true epic, and at no point did I feel like it was dragging along. That’s quite a feat for the longest Best Picture winner in the history of the award.

The problem that I face while writing this post is that there is nothing left to say about this movie that hasn’t been said a thousand times before. It’s a masterpiece, of course, and the performances are outstanding. Perhaps I can only say this in retrospect, but it’s impossible to imagine anybody else being Scarlett O’Hara or Rhett Butler or any of the others.

The Oscar Project #11: You Can't Take It With You

by Chris Marshall:

Frank Capra did it again with this one. He also directed 1934’s winner, It Happened One Night, which was a masterpiece. You Can’t Take It with You doesn’t quite reach the same level of quality, but it is once again a fun, endearing watch.

With Capra, you always know what you’re going to get: sentimental, heartwarming fare for the entire family. But he shouldn’t be remembered exclusively for schmaltz; he was a master of economical storytelling.

Here’s the set-up. Rich banker (Jimmy Stewart) is canoodling with middle-class secretary (Jean Arthur). The banker’s snooty mother walks in and turns her nose up in disapproval. Secretary goes home to her eccentric, fun-loving, carefree household. Rich banker proposes, but she won’t accept until she knows his parents approve. Boom! In three easy steps, your plot is laid out for you.

This isn’t to say there weren’t more complicated developments. Even though it was so easy to see it coming, I LOLed at the plotline in which the secretary’s father, a fireworks maker, decides to send out samples of his work along with a red promotional card reading “The revolution is coming!” The confusion (and arrest) that follows sets up the third act, and while you see it playing out so far advance, it’s still very satisfying when everything comes to a head.

The Oscar Project #10: The Life of Emile Zola (1937)

by Chris Marshall:

One of my favorite aspects of The Oscar Project is that I am constantly learning and experiencing new things. The first winner I had seen previously was Casablanca, meaning the first 15 of these posts are written about movies that were new to me. Some, like The Life of Emile Zola, I had only heard of because they were on the list of Best Picture winners. I cannot otherwise recall a single instance of somebody talking about this film.

But what a revelation it was! It wasn’t the single best I’ve seen so far, but it’s pretty close, as you’ll see when I post my Best of the Decade list on May 6. I made the claim in my introductory post that winning an Oscar automatically puts a film into the canon, but there are exceptions to every rule, Emile Zola being one. That is such a pity; this is a movie that deserves to be seen by more people.

It was the second biopic to win the top award, following on the heels of The Great Ziegfeld. That film turned into a debacle because it tried to be and do too much. Emile Zola focuses on its primary subject exclusively, and while it dedicates a brief few moments to his early life, it zeroes in on a single event, what became known as the Dreyfus Affair.

Nothing Like a Fresh Pair of Jordans

In my quest to become the world’s premier basketball athlete, there was always one thing holding me back. Until now.  I got my first pair of Jordan’s (Jordans? Jordans’s?), and I'm steppin on, steppin on haters everyday.

I’m not a shoe guy. My roommate was a shoe guy, and I thought that was cool, and he was cool, and he’d talk about things like air-bubble soles and coffee cream coloring and I knew these were cool things but that’s about it. He’d even take a little toothbrush and clean them. He had a whole closet full of them and would order new ones over the internet which I could not *believe* because what if they don’t fit? I have Gym Shoes, Jeans Shoes, Khaki Shoes and Wedding Shoes. And flip-flops. I’d just wear the same pair of shoes I always did until I wore a hole in them and they fell apart. Until now. Did I say I got my first pair of Jordans?!

The Oscar Project #9: The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

by Chris Marshall:

I’ll be honest. I was already biased against this movie before I ever started watching it. It’s a musical, and it’s over three hours long.  Neither of those things inspired much optimism in me. I knew it would be a chore to make it through the whole thing.

But it was worse than that. After the movie started with a 4 minute, 51 second musical overture, followed by over 2 minutes of opening credits, I could tell it was going to be a struggle. And then a truly pernicious thing happened; the first 45 minutes were actually pretty good! William Powell, playing Florenz Ziegfeld of Ziegfeld Follies fame, put the team on his back and made it more entertaining than it had any right to be.

This sounds like a positive, but it was pernicious because it lulled me into a false sense of security. I would have preferred it just be bad all the way through rather than getting my hopes up and pulling the rug out from underneath me. The last two hours of the movie were mostly just footage of Ziegfeld’s stage productions.

The Oscar Project #8: Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)

by Chris Marshall:

As a child, we had a copy of Mutiny on the Bounty that had been recorded off television. It was the 1962 version starring Marlon Brando as Fletcher Christian, and for many years I assumed it was the definitive version of the film. Perhaps for many people it is. When I discovered there was an older, black and white version (the horror!), I believed it was by necessity inferior.

I had no idea then that the 1935 film (which was itself not the original film version) had won Best Picture, though I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered to me much at the time. Nor did I know that Marlon Brando’s behavior during filming 1962 was more incomprehensible than Captain Bligh’s, though considerably less damaging to the crew. All of this knowledge came later, but I cannot recall a time in my life when I didn’t know the story of the H.M.S. Bounty.

Of course, that’s true of any number of movies. I remember having to call in my parents or my brother to read the subtitles when Jabba the Hutt was talking in Return of the Jedi. I remember watching Raiders of the Lost Ark on an endless loop. But the peculiar thing is that I have no recollection of ever watching any version of Mutiny on the Bounty, and I definitely never watched it from start to finish. I can’t even think of a specific scene from the film.