The Oscar Project #70: Titanic (1997)

by Chris Marshall:

I realized a couple of things while watching Titanic today. One, it was the first (of only four total[1]) Best Picture winners that I saw in a theater. Two, it came out 15 years ago. Holy schlamoly I’m old. It pains me to remember things so clearly when they happened a decade and a half ago.

It’s also a perfect showcase for the best and the worst of James Cameron. From a technical standpoint, it is incredibly well made. The cinematography, set design, and special effects all hold extremely well all these years later. But the actual screenplay, despite having a number of memorable, canonical lines, falls flat most of the time. Especially when Old Rose is speaking near the end, it sounds more like she’s reading a poem than actually speaking.

Of course, she was pretty old, and I guess she’d had plenty of time to think about it. Still, it seems like Cameron’s characters rarely talk like actual human beings. I think that’s why the Terminator films work so well. Arnold can get away with talking like a machine because he is a machine. When Edward Furlong says those horrible lines, not so much.

Thoughts on a Beautiful Wimbledon

by Chris Marshall:

I’m an unabashed Roger Federer die-hard. I’ve never made any efforts to hide that fact. But it’s been a hard couple of years for Fed Fans. Since winning the 2010 Australian Open, he’s appeared in only one Grand Slam final, when he was handily beaten by Rafael Nadal in Paris last year. Once he turned 30, it was easy to believe he’d never win another major.

Although I was never totally convinced, I fell into that pattern of thinking more and more often over the past few months. Every time he would do something really promising, something else would happen to make me question whether or not he still had it. Just a couple of weeks ago, he lost to Tommy Haas in the final of Halle. Yes, he lost on grass to the 34-year-old Haas, who needed a wild card just to get into the Wimbledon main draw.

That was a bad sign, but Federer has a way of making me start to believe again. Wishful thinking most of the time, but he’s won so much in the past that it doesn’t take much to get my hopes up. Then he fell down two sets to Julien Benneteau in the 3^rd round, and I was absolutely convinced he was done. Kaput. It not only would have knocked him out of Wimbledon. It would have ruined his streak of seven million (estimated) consecutive quarterfinals reached.

Manly Things at BWWs: Anderson "Spider" Silva vs. Chael Sonnen

Anderson Silva has been talked about as one of, if not the best UFC fighter to ever live. He dominates to the point where he has toyed around with his last few opponents in the ring before beating them. He was so dominant at the middleweight class that they tried moving him up to have more competition. While most of my information comes from listening to the announcers during the fight, I think it’s safe to say that this guy is really, really good.

Enter Chael Sonnen. I’ve talked about the need for sports to have a villain, and Sonnen is the most perfect villain I’ve seen in a long time. He’s just the best at being the worst; everything about him is designed to get under your skin and throw you off your game – his name is Chael for crying out loud. 

In 2010, Sonnen fought Silva, and thoroughly beat him for 23 straight minutes. He landed 300 more punches than Silva did, and Silva would have surely lost if not for a last second submission that made Sonnen tap out. Since then, Sonnen has been talking a nonstop stream of trash towards Silva and anyone that would listen, insulting Silva’s family and culture and everything else. Silva, normally a composed fighter, was rattled. He got angry, whispering “I’m going to kill you” in Sonnen’s ear during one of their pre-fight meetings. This isn’t something Silva does. Ever.

The Oscar Project #69: The English Patient (1996)

by Chris Marshall:

I spent so much time dreading The English Patient that it became something like a superstitious object. For whatever reason, I had it in my head that it was the worst movie ever made, maybe even worse than The Great Ziegfeld. I guess that had a lot to do with its tone and subject matter, as well as being perhaps the clearest example of Oscar bait in many years. Whatever the reason, I always viewed this film as the last real roadblock of The Oscar Project.

Then I watched it, and strangely enough, it wasn’t as horrible as I had feared. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I liked it, but it was nowhere near the worst Best Picture winner I’ve seen on this journey. The most obvious comparison that came to mind while watching it was Out of Africa. I could recognize why it’s considered a “good movie,” but at the same time, it was the type of film that often fails to capture my interest.

I’ve had a long-running joke with my former (and future) roommate Justin, in which I claim that nobody has ever actually seen The English Patient, and it won the Oscar because all the voters assumed it was probably good but didn’t want to take the time to sit through it. This is a slight exaggeration, of course, but I’d venture a guess that it is probably the least seen Best Picture winner of the last 25 years.

The Oscar Project #68: Braveheart (1995)

by Chris Marshall:

What is it about films directed by Mel Gibson? They always seem to feature loving depictions of torture[1]. I’m not sure exactly what that says about Mr. Gibson, but it can’t be anything good. Of course, maybe I only think that way in light of his behavior in recent years. Still, it’s something that occurred to me while watching the closing scenes of Braveheart.

It’s somewhat stunning to think about what has befallen Gibson’s career. When this film was released in 1995, he was at his apex. At that point he had made three Lethal Weapon films, three Mad Max films, Hamlet, Pocahontas, and a favorite of mine as a kid, Maverick. Then came Braveheart, and he was no longer merely a popular star; he was a critical darling.

He never achieved that same level of success again, but over the next few years, he still starred in a series of moderately popular films. Then, after the 2004 release of The Passion of the Christ, everything went off the rails, both for his career and his public image. Although Apocalypto was not a terrible film, it came out during a time when Gibson was facing considerable scrutiny, and he did not direct or act in another film for four years.

The Oscar Project #67: Forrest Gump (1994)

by Chris Marshall:

Never judge a Best Picture winner based on the quality of its competition. I brought this point up more than ten posts ago, but the 1994 Academy Awards were a prime example of this phenomenon. Because Forrest Gump won in a year when Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption were both nominated, it’s easy to fall into the trap of criticizing the film based not on its own merit, but on the fact that it beat out arguably superior competition.

That’s not to say this is the only criticism of Forrest Gump, of course, but it is a current of thought I’ve heard expressed before. Yes, I think Pulp Fiction is a better movie[1], one of the best ever made, but that has nothing to do with the quality of Forrest Gump, which I think is a perfectly fine film in its own right. Maybe that’s due to sheer repetition; I’ve mentioned before that I’ve likely seen it more than any other Best Picture winner. But whatever the reason, I think its quality should only be judged on criteria intrinsic to the film.

For all his acclaim, it still surprises me that this is the only winner Tom Hanks has ever appeared in. He also won Best Actor for playing the title role, his second year in a row to win the top acting award. In this film, he creates one of the most iconic characters of the last 20 years. With the possible exception of Titanic, I’d argue that Forrest Gump is more ingrained in pop culture than any other Best Picture winner of the 1990s.

The Oscar Project #66: Schindler's List (1993)

by Chris Marshall:

Steven Spielberg is one of the greatest directors of all time, and I think it’s unfortunate that, at least in some circles, his contributions to cinema aren’t appreciated to the fullest extent. I think most people enjoy his movies, but he’s not often considered as one of the top “artistic” auteurs in the medium. Perhaps there’s some truth to that, but when you have a filmography like his, it’s impossible not to acknowledge his genius.

I believe this lack of universal respect for his artistry is the main reason why only one of his movies has won Best Picture. He’s considered more of a populist director, and while many of his biggest blockbusters have been nominated, only Schindler’s List took home the top prize, likely because it is an “important” movie in addition to just being a great one. Just to be clear, I am taking nothing away from Schindler’s List; it is brilliant, but I wish his more “fun” films garnered more respect.

Anyway, about the movie. I assume it’s a movie where, even if not everybody has seen it, at least everybody knows what it’s about. It is a holocaust film, yes, but more than that, it’s about a man who dared to take action, at great personal risk, in an attempt to save the lives of more than 1,000 Jews.

The Oscar Project #65: Unforgiven (1992)

by Chris Marshall:

Unforgiven is a work of genius, one of those rare films where I felt like I was experiencing greatness while I was watching it. I expected it to be good, but I was completely taken off guard by how much I loved it. It was nearly perfect.

Clint Eastwood is one of the immortal legends of American cinema, and his very presence in a film means something. That’s not to say that every one of his movies is good; that’s far from the truth. But particularly in the latter part of his career, his face carries such a heavy symbolic weight that he hardly needs to say anything at all. Of course, Eastwood is typically at his best when he’s silent.

Eastwood, as the “reformed” outlaw William Munny, has plenty of lines in Unforgiven, but he delivers them in a way that lets us know that he never says anything without contemplating it deeply. He has acquired a deep wisdom, both from his worst days and from his best days. But he knows he will never truly be a good man, for he has committed unspeakable atrocities, sins that he can never atone for.

The Oscar Project #64: The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

by Chris Marshall:

I remember liking The Silence of the Lambs well enough the first time I saw it, and I’ve watched various parts of it a few times since then. But I’ve never really considered it a classic, at least not in the same sense that many others do. I never bothered with the prequels or sequels (it seems like there are so many) because I just never had any real interest in them.

Upon revisiting it for The Oscar Project, I was reminded of just how well crafted a film it is. It very well might have been the “fastest” movie so far, by which I mean it felt much shorter than its two hour running time. Everything flows together so smoothly and swiftly that you never have to wait for a new development in the plot.

Still, I’m not completely sold on it being an all-time classic, despite its dominance at the Oscars. The Silence of the Lambs became the third film, after It Happened One Night and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest[1], to win all five major Academy Awards: picture, actor, actress, director, and screenplay. I don’t think it’s quite in the same class as those two films, however. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to Oscar winners being about “important” things that I’ve forgotten how to enjoy films that are simply well-made and fun to watch.

The Oscar Project #63: Dances with Wolves (1990)

by Chris Marshall:

I went into Dances with Wolves absolutely expecting to hate it. I’ve never liked Kevin Costner, and nothing about the plot seemed really appealing to me. But then something happened that I never could have anticipated: it was really good! I found myself becoming absorbed in the story, and I couldn’t pull myself away.

Costner, who directed and starred in the film, certainly had some Costner-y moments, but on the whole, he did a fine job as Lt. John Dunbar, who is eventually given the name Dances with Wolves by the Lakota Sioux tribe he joins. After the first few minutes of the film, which are preposterous, he finds his comfort zone, and once he is assigned to his outpost on the frontier, everything starts to flow naturally.

Because of his courage/stupidity during a Civil War battle, Dunbar is given his choice of where he wants to be assigned. He picks an isolated “fort” on the frontier, claiming he wants to see it before it’s gone. While he’s there, he develops a friendship with the local Sioux tribe and a romance with a white tribe member (she had been adopted as a child after her family was killed). When the white men inevitably come to appropriate the land for themselves, Dunbar, known at this point by Dances with Wolves, sides with the Indians.