So, the BBC has decided to move ahead with a feature film based on the "Doctor Who" television series, to be directed by "Harry Potter" regular, David Yates. According to this Variety article, the film will not follow the continuity of the current series, but strike out on its own. Some of the fans have not been taking this well, others are cautiously optimistic, and so on. You know how the song goes.
Now turning "Doctor Who" into a feature film has been done before. There were two theatrically released "Who" films made in the 60s starring Peter Cushing, which are not considered to be in continuity with the long-running television series. There was also a made-for-television movie with Paul McGann that the American FOX Network produced in the 90s, that is considered part of the series canon, in spite of some major plot inconsistencies. There have also been various spin-off media like audio plays and novels that have their own separate continuities. Fans of the series might fret that expanding the "Who" universe into films again might be some backdoor attempt by the BBC to put an end to their beloved series, which has been slipping in the ratings lately, but past features have had little impact on the televised "Doctor Who." And other franchises like "Star Trek" have pulled off juggling multiple series and movies before.
And if there's any science-fiction franchise that has the flexibility to accommodate couple of different concurrent versions at once, it's "Doctor Who." One of the reasons the show has endured for as long as it has is because the premise is so open-ended. You have an alien protagonist with the ability to "regenerate" into another form at the point of death, allowing many different actors to play the Doctor over the lengthy run of the television series. He flies around in a time-traveling spaceship having adventures, which can be set anywhere, and at any point in times. The Doctor's traveling companions regularly come and go, changing with the eras. So do his enemies, though the best ones like the Master and the iconic Daleks always seem to come back for more abuse.
A theatrical "Doctor Who" film, done with a bigger scope and budget than what the television show could ever hope to afford, could be a good thing for fans. There are parts of "Who" lore that the series has purposefully avoided - a proper origin story, for instance. When the Doctor first arrived on UK television screens in 1963, he was already an elderly gentleman with a granddaughter in tow. What were his early years like? What was going on in that war that the relaunched series made such a fuss over, but never showed us? Or a movie could take place further off in the Doctor's future. Or simply start over with the basic premise of an alien adventurer and his blue box, ignoring the decades of continuity offered by the show. Though if the continuity is ignored, there's a good chance that some eager fans will figure out a way to incorporate the separate universe anyway. Such is fandom.
You could even have two or more Doctors running around at once. In the show itself, the Doctor meets earlier incarnations of himself, usually any time "Who" has a major anniversary. In 1973, for the 10th anniversary, we had "The Three Doctors." In 1983 came "The Five Doctors." It's widely expected that the upcoming 50th anniversary will reunite whoever is still left standing and can be lured back into the studio. That's the kind of wonderfully weird, wild, boundary-side-stepping shenanigans that "Doctor Who" pulls off on a regular basis. Fans should really be used to this sort of thing by now. And they should also dust off those abandoned campaigns for various actors to play the Eleventh Doctor before Matt Smith was cast. There's a new position to fill.
Of course, the movie could be terrible. The wrong people might end up in charge, who will change everything they shouldn't or be too intimidated to change all the things that they need to, thus damaging the franchise. I doubt it though. "Doctor Who" has had its bad periods, and it's always bounced back from them. At worst, the film will be another failed experiment, like the 1996 made-for-television one. But you never know. A successful film might edge "Doctor Who" a little closer to immortality, allowing the character to join the ranks of British perennials like Sherlock Holmes and James Bond.
Speaking of which, is it really still another month and a half until the Christmas special?
---
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Feeling Too Old For the Movies?
"The Hunger Games" just came out with a new trailer, setting its existing fanbase buzzing. With any luck, we're looking at the next big popular movie franchise, aimed at teenagers and young adults. But how on earth is a thirty-something movie lover like myself supposed to approach it? It's no secret that the majority of the films churned out by Hollywood are aimed at the 13-to-25-year-old audience, which loves superheroes, gross-out comedies, vampires, and questionable pop music. If you were appalled that anyone could like the newest Adam Sandler movie, "Jack and Jill," it probably means that you weren't part of its target audience, which doesn't file its own tax returns yet.
Every movie fan has to face the fact that around the time they reach their late twenties, the movie studios aren't regularly targeting them anymore. Most big franchises actually play pretty well to grown-ups, featuring seasoned stars and lots of spectacle, even though the stories are usually dumbed down to be safe for twelve-year-olds. But then you start running across red-hot series like "Twilight," that the mainstream media glorifies, while also making it clear that anyone over twenty-five shouldn't really be watching it. At my age, eyebrows would be raised if I professed any fondness toward "Twilight" - one of my girlfriends likes the books, but also hastily adds that it's because they make her nostalgic for high school.
The problem for any media junkie is, of course, that "Twilight" and "Transformers" and its ilk are so emphatically part of the mainstream culture now, and once you lose connection with the mainstream, you're lost. You're an old fogey, a pretentious artsy fartsy elitist, and totally out of touch. This wasn't so much of a problem in the past, when Hollywood wasn't so doggedly youth-centric, but these days if you don't like CGI cartoons or Marvel superheroes, it's difficult to stay invested in what's going on at the multiplex. I've complained on this blog before that my parents love movies, but it's a constant struggle to find films that fit their sensibilities. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a comedy with no raunch or cursing in it these days?
But I digress. People approach aging out of the mainstream in different ways. Some embrace it, happy to be in a position where they can write off the worst of the idiot blockbusters as pabulum for undeveloped minds. Some refuse to acknowledge that films like "Twilight" or "Scott Pilgrim" were made for a different audience, and castigate them accordingly. Some try to tiptoe around the fact that they've fallen behind the curve, and do their best refocus their attention on the remaining films aimed at grown ups. And some of us, myself included, are lucky enough to not to really give a damn who a film was made for.
I ran across the aging-out problem very early, because I didn't give up cartoons when I was supposed to. I got used to seeing all the boy heroes and spunky adventure girls get younger and younger compared to me, and eventually I just accepted it as a normal part of the formula. It's the same with other kinds of movies I've supposedly gotten too old for. Tales of young love will almost always feature adolescents. Angry young men are rarely over thirty. Larger-than-life superheroes must always appeal to kids, and the dark, gritty, violent anti-heroes are for the rebellious youth. To cut ourselves off from all these stories would be an awful shame.
And once you start figuring out what the rules are, it's easier to get a handle on viewing these movies objectively, focusing on execution, on innovation, on the little generational quirks that make them different than what came before. It's easier to appreciate them for what they are, and what they're able to do within the limits that mainstream Hollywood demands. The best of these films can transcend the usual age boundaries entirely. "Harry Potter" is the prototypical teen adventure series, but it's so well done, nobody bats an eye if adults like it. Try to suggest a grown-up can't enjoy a PIXAR movie, and you'll be made to regret it quickly.
There is, however, absolutely no denying that adult fans aren't meant to enjoy films for children and teenagers the same way that children and teenagers do. Watching middle-aged women throw themselves at Robert Pattinson with the same gusto as their adolescent daughters is depressing. But that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to enjoy films made for younger people on our own terms. In the case of "The Hunger Games," I'm not too interested in the plot, that's shaping up to be a sanitized version of "Battle Royale." However, I do want to see if Jennifer Lawrence can carry an action film. And I'm dying to get a look at the new animated film based on the Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax," being produced by the people behind "Despicable Me." And good grief, have you seen the list of people who worked on "Tintin"?
On the other hand, it does bother me that films for grown-ups have gotten scarce enough that more and more people are noticing the drop-off in entertainment options once they hit a certain age. True, audiences do tend to shrink as they get older, money is tighter, and they stop going out so often. However, older audiences have proven time and time again to be an important and vital segment of the moviegoing population, and the studios ignore them at their own peril.
A huge part of the problem of aging out of the 13-to-25 audience, after all, is that it can be difficult to find a comparable adult-oriented media sphere to move on to from there - well, at the movie theaters anyway. Television is a different story, but that's a post for another time.
---
Every movie fan has to face the fact that around the time they reach their late twenties, the movie studios aren't regularly targeting them anymore. Most big franchises actually play pretty well to grown-ups, featuring seasoned stars and lots of spectacle, even though the stories are usually dumbed down to be safe for twelve-year-olds. But then you start running across red-hot series like "Twilight," that the mainstream media glorifies, while also making it clear that anyone over twenty-five shouldn't really be watching it. At my age, eyebrows would be raised if I professed any fondness toward "Twilight" - one of my girlfriends likes the books, but also hastily adds that it's because they make her nostalgic for high school.
The problem for any media junkie is, of course, that "Twilight" and "Transformers" and its ilk are so emphatically part of the mainstream culture now, and once you lose connection with the mainstream, you're lost. You're an old fogey, a pretentious artsy fartsy elitist, and totally out of touch. This wasn't so much of a problem in the past, when Hollywood wasn't so doggedly youth-centric, but these days if you don't like CGI cartoons or Marvel superheroes, it's difficult to stay invested in what's going on at the multiplex. I've complained on this blog before that my parents love movies, but it's a constant struggle to find films that fit their sensibilities. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a comedy with no raunch or cursing in it these days?
But I digress. People approach aging out of the mainstream in different ways. Some embrace it, happy to be in a position where they can write off the worst of the idiot blockbusters as pabulum for undeveloped minds. Some refuse to acknowledge that films like "Twilight" or "Scott Pilgrim" were made for a different audience, and castigate them accordingly. Some try to tiptoe around the fact that they've fallen behind the curve, and do their best refocus their attention on the remaining films aimed at grown ups. And some of us, myself included, are lucky enough to not to really give a damn who a film was made for.
I ran across the aging-out problem very early, because I didn't give up cartoons when I was supposed to. I got used to seeing all the boy heroes and spunky adventure girls get younger and younger compared to me, and eventually I just accepted it as a normal part of the formula. It's the same with other kinds of movies I've supposedly gotten too old for. Tales of young love will almost always feature adolescents. Angry young men are rarely over thirty. Larger-than-life superheroes must always appeal to kids, and the dark, gritty, violent anti-heroes are for the rebellious youth. To cut ourselves off from all these stories would be an awful shame.
And once you start figuring out what the rules are, it's easier to get a handle on viewing these movies objectively, focusing on execution, on innovation, on the little generational quirks that make them different than what came before. It's easier to appreciate them for what they are, and what they're able to do within the limits that mainstream Hollywood demands. The best of these films can transcend the usual age boundaries entirely. "Harry Potter" is the prototypical teen adventure series, but it's so well done, nobody bats an eye if adults like it. Try to suggest a grown-up can't enjoy a PIXAR movie, and you'll be made to regret it quickly.
There is, however, absolutely no denying that adult fans aren't meant to enjoy films for children and teenagers the same way that children and teenagers do. Watching middle-aged women throw themselves at Robert Pattinson with the same gusto as their adolescent daughters is depressing. But that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to enjoy films made for younger people on our own terms. In the case of "The Hunger Games," I'm not too interested in the plot, that's shaping up to be a sanitized version of "Battle Royale." However, I do want to see if Jennifer Lawrence can carry an action film. And I'm dying to get a look at the new animated film based on the Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax," being produced by the people behind "Despicable Me." And good grief, have you seen the list of people who worked on "Tintin"?
On the other hand, it does bother me that films for grown-ups have gotten scarce enough that more and more people are noticing the drop-off in entertainment options once they hit a certain age. True, audiences do tend to shrink as they get older, money is tighter, and they stop going out so often. However, older audiences have proven time and time again to be an important and vital segment of the moviegoing population, and the studios ignore them at their own peril.
A huge part of the problem of aging out of the 13-to-25 audience, after all, is that it can be difficult to find a comparable adult-oriented media sphere to move on to from there - well, at the movie theaters anyway. Television is a different story, but that's a post for another time.
---
Friday, November 11, 2011
A Python Top Ten
And now for something completely different.
I'm bored and I'm running dry on current stuff to write about. So here's a list of the Top 10 Greatest Contributions of Monty Python's Flying Circus to Western Civilization.
1. Terry Gilliam's Directing Career - Now, I respect the work of Terry Jones, who co-directed "Holy Grail" and fully directed "Life of Brian," which are two of the greatest comedy films ever made, but Gilliam is one of my favorite directors. If Gilliam hadn't decided to try his hand at directing Python's first feature, and really gotten into it, he never would have gone on to make "Time Bandits" and "Brazil" and "12 Monkeys," and all the rest. And that would have been a terrible loss to us all. Okay, well maybe not "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," or "Tideland," or "The Brothers Grimm," but definitely all the others.
2. SPAM, SPAM, SPAM - I don't know how they got away with it, especially since Hormel proved litigious and grumpy enough to go after the Jim Henson Company for naming a Muppet character after the canned ham product, and E-mail spammers for linking them with electronic junk-mail. But the SPAM sketch endures, forever associating SPAM with mirth and overindulgence, and so ingrained into the public consciousness that Hormel had no choice but to capitulate, and offer up commemorative tins upon the release of "SPAMalot." After all, thanks to Python, they're the only canned ham product to appear in the title of a major Broadway musical.
3. The Spanish Inquistion - The dirty little secret of us doltish, uneducated masses is that very few people would even remember the Spanish Inquisition if it weren't for Monty Python. Seriously, how often does medieval religious history come up in every day conversation? And specifically the Spanish parts? But as far as I know, the Pythons are the only ones who have ever sent up one of the most heinous organizations of mass-murderers in history. Now the Spanish Inquisition will always be remembered as an incompetent lot of dullards in in funny outfits, and I take no small amout of pleasure in that.
4. This is a Late Parrot - My first exposure to the immortal Dead Parrot sketch wasn't the original. I actually ran across someone's homage/rip-off of it first, using a different dead animal and an entirely new list of euphemisms for its demise. And it was still hysterical. But nothing can compare to John Cleese's outrage and Michael Palin's evasion, as they spar over the state of the Norwegian Blue. The Dead Parrot sketch seems more timely and stinging than ever now, with so many major corporations and institutions out there pulling similar tricks on a daily basis to screw over customers and patrons. So thank you, John Cleese, for giving voice to our rage.
5. Eric Idle's Musical Career - In addition to writing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and the "Galaxy Song," which are two of the catchiest tunes it's probably not polite to sing in public, Idle went on to turn "Holy Grail" in the Broadway musical "SPAMalot" and "Life of Brian" into the comic oratio "Not the Messiah (He's a Very Naughty Boy)." Now say what you will about the quality of "SPAMalot," but it's a lot of fun, and at least it's success seems to have cut short Idle's rather terrifying and abominable acting career. If you've had to sit through "Casper" or "Dudley Do Right," you know what I mean.
6. Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink - It's funny how some of the most innocuous bits of Python ended up being some of the most memorable and influential. The Nudge Nudge Wink Wink sketch, with its silly innuendoes and its very un-Python punch line, has nonetheless entered the English lexicon. And that character that Eric Idle plays, that winking, leering, eyebrow-arching young mook, has been showing up in sex comedies ever since, usually to give bad advice to the leading man. Sadly, modern reincarnations always seem to leave out the best bit, where Mr. "Know-what-I-Mean" is revealed not to know anything about sex at all.
7. The Black Knight - "Holy Grail" is a goldmine of concentrated Python merriment, from the killer rabbit to the coconuts to the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. But if I had to vote for the best moment, it has to be the Black Knight, a foreboding warrior who seriously overestimates his own capabilities, but refuses to yield until he's chopped into pieces. Cleese claims he wanted to subvert the idea that never giving up would always lead to victory, which I respect and appreciate. But really, it's all about the glorious absurdity a horribly maimed knight shouting "It's only a flesh wound!" and threating to bite people's kneecaps off.
8. The Teachings of Brian - I'll let this one speak for itself:
Brian: Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't need to follow me, You don't need to follow anybody! You've got to think for your selves! You're all individuals!
The Crowd: (In unison) Yes! We're all individuals!
Brian: You're all different!
The Crowd: (In unison) Yes, we are all different!
Man in crowd: I'm not.
The Crowd: Shhhhh!
9. Gilliam v. ABC 538 F.2d 14 (2nd Cir. 1976) - After the "Python" programs were licensed to ABC in the 70s, who of course heavily edited them for public broadcast, the Pythons sued and won. The judge in the case declared that ABC's actions had caused to program to lose its "iconoclastic verve," and set the precedent for authors of a work the right to retain a degree of control over its presentation, and to not be associated with any unauthorized mangling of it. Of course, the studios and the broadcasters make artists sign away all these rights immediately these days, but it's nice to know that the principle is there.
10. The Fish Slapping Dance - It's my favorite sketch. I make no apologies.
---
I'm bored and I'm running dry on current stuff to write about. So here's a list of the Top 10 Greatest Contributions of Monty Python's Flying Circus to Western Civilization.
1. Terry Gilliam's Directing Career - Now, I respect the work of Terry Jones, who co-directed "Holy Grail" and fully directed "Life of Brian," which are two of the greatest comedy films ever made, but Gilliam is one of my favorite directors. If Gilliam hadn't decided to try his hand at directing Python's first feature, and really gotten into it, he never would have gone on to make "Time Bandits" and "Brazil" and "12 Monkeys," and all the rest. And that would have been a terrible loss to us all. Okay, well maybe not "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," or "Tideland," or "The Brothers Grimm," but definitely all the others.
2. SPAM, SPAM, SPAM - I don't know how they got away with it, especially since Hormel proved litigious and grumpy enough to go after the Jim Henson Company for naming a Muppet character after the canned ham product, and E-mail spammers for linking them with electronic junk-mail. But the SPAM sketch endures, forever associating SPAM with mirth and overindulgence, and so ingrained into the public consciousness that Hormel had no choice but to capitulate, and offer up commemorative tins upon the release of "SPAMalot." After all, thanks to Python, they're the only canned ham product to appear in the title of a major Broadway musical.
3. The Spanish Inquistion - The dirty little secret of us doltish, uneducated masses is that very few people would even remember the Spanish Inquisition if it weren't for Monty Python. Seriously, how often does medieval religious history come up in every day conversation? And specifically the Spanish parts? But as far as I know, the Pythons are the only ones who have ever sent up one of the most heinous organizations of mass-murderers in history. Now the Spanish Inquisition will always be remembered as an incompetent lot of dullards in in funny outfits, and I take no small amout of pleasure in that.
4. This is a Late Parrot - My first exposure to the immortal Dead Parrot sketch wasn't the original. I actually ran across someone's homage/rip-off of it first, using a different dead animal and an entirely new list of euphemisms for its demise. And it was still hysterical. But nothing can compare to John Cleese's outrage and Michael Palin's evasion, as they spar over the state of the Norwegian Blue. The Dead Parrot sketch seems more timely and stinging than ever now, with so many major corporations and institutions out there pulling similar tricks on a daily basis to screw over customers and patrons. So thank you, John Cleese, for giving voice to our rage.
5. Eric Idle's Musical Career - In addition to writing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and the "Galaxy Song," which are two of the catchiest tunes it's probably not polite to sing in public, Idle went on to turn "Holy Grail" in the Broadway musical "SPAMalot" and "Life of Brian" into the comic oratio "Not the Messiah (He's a Very Naughty Boy)." Now say what you will about the quality of "SPAMalot," but it's a lot of fun, and at least it's success seems to have cut short Idle's rather terrifying and abominable acting career. If you've had to sit through "Casper" or "Dudley Do Right," you know what I mean.
6. Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink - It's funny how some of the most innocuous bits of Python ended up being some of the most memorable and influential. The Nudge Nudge Wink Wink sketch, with its silly innuendoes and its very un-Python punch line, has nonetheless entered the English lexicon. And that character that Eric Idle plays, that winking, leering, eyebrow-arching young mook, has been showing up in sex comedies ever since, usually to give bad advice to the leading man. Sadly, modern reincarnations always seem to leave out the best bit, where Mr. "Know-what-I-Mean" is revealed not to know anything about sex at all.
7. The Black Knight - "Holy Grail" is a goldmine of concentrated Python merriment, from the killer rabbit to the coconuts to the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. But if I had to vote for the best moment, it has to be the Black Knight, a foreboding warrior who seriously overestimates his own capabilities, but refuses to yield until he's chopped into pieces. Cleese claims he wanted to subvert the idea that never giving up would always lead to victory, which I respect and appreciate. But really, it's all about the glorious absurdity a horribly maimed knight shouting "It's only a flesh wound!" and threating to bite people's kneecaps off.
8. The Teachings of Brian - I'll let this one speak for itself:
Brian: Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't need to follow me, You don't need to follow anybody! You've got to think for your selves! You're all individuals!
The Crowd: (In unison) Yes! We're all individuals!
Brian: You're all different!
The Crowd: (In unison) Yes, we are all different!
Man in crowd: I'm not.
The Crowd: Shhhhh!
9. Gilliam v. ABC 538 F.2d 14 (2nd Cir. 1976) - After the "Python" programs were licensed to ABC in the 70s, who of course heavily edited them for public broadcast, the Pythons sued and won. The judge in the case declared that ABC's actions had caused to program to lose its "iconoclastic verve," and set the precedent for authors of a work the right to retain a degree of control over its presentation, and to not be associated with any unauthorized mangling of it. Of course, the studios and the broadcasters make artists sign away all these rights immediately these days, but it's nice to know that the principle is there.
10. The Fish Slapping Dance - It's my favorite sketch. I make no apologies.
---
Thursday, November 10, 2011
An Update on "They Shoot Pictures"
Last summer, when I had gotten through about 500 titles from the "They Shoot Pictures Don't They" ("TSPDT") list of the 1000 Greatest Films, I wrote up this post to vent some of my frustrations. And now, a year later and with about a 150 more titles from the list checked off, I thought it was time to revisit that opinion.
My biggest beef with the list last year was finding so many mediocre films like Fellini's "Juliet of the Spirits," Coppola's "The Godfather Part III" and Cimino's "Heaven's Gate," crowding out better, but lower profile films from lesser known directors. I think I've got a better understanding of why these titles were included. Let's take "The Godfather Part III" for example. The first two "Godfather" films are among the most revered films of all time. You could talk endlessly about them, but eventually the conversation would turn to the final, less well-regarded installment. If you really love "The Godfather," it's mandatory to have an opinion about "The Godfather Part III," whether good or bad. And that's the reason why a lot of titles are on the TSPDT list. I may not like "Juliet of the Spirits," but I can't argue that it's not a significant film, or an absolutely vital one to see if you want to talk about the career and development of Federico Fellini, one of the most important Italian directors.
The more films I see, the more important context becomes. After a while, simply reading Wikipedia entries and Criterion booklets wasn't enough, and I started picking up books about film history and film theory to help me piece together the bigger picture. Film history isn't all about successes and breakthroughs and moments of genius, but about the failures and the disappointments and the missed chances too. Thus "Heaven's Gate," which was not just a bomb, but a legendary bomb with consequences that went much further than anyone could have predicted at the time. TSPDT does a good job of reflecting this. In some cases I still think that the emphasis on particular directors gets a little out of hand - there's really no reason to include so many obscure Fritz Lang and F.W. Murnau films - but I do appreciate that a director's failures can be at least as interesting as their successes, and provide just as much material for good discussion. There are a few entries that still confuse me, like "Starship Troopers," which I fail to see any cultural or artistic value in whatsoever, but I'm sure there's a good argument in support of it somewhere.
As I'm getting into the more obscure titles, the diversity of the TSPDT list gets more and more impressive. I've been watching films by Emir Kusturica, Gillian Armstrong, Ousmane Sembene, directors who are practically unknown outside of the very narrow contexts of Eastern European, Australian, and Senegalese film. A list of a thousand entries may seem extreme, but it ensures that once you get past the bigger, foundational classics, there's still room for cinema from smaller countries, documentaries, shorts, and other interesting corners of the film world that never get as much attention elsewhere. One of the most intriguing directors I've become familiar with thanks to TSPDT and the Criterion Collection is Stan Brakhage, an experimental filmmaker who creates these amazing video collages of abstract imagery.
I've also accepted the fact that I'm probably never going to finish the whole list, at least without expending much more effort than I think I'm willing to put into the venture. There are rarities like Andy Warhol's "Chelsea Girls," unavaliable except for rare museum screenings, out of print titles like Roberto Rossellini's "Stromboli," and films I just honestly have no interest in watching. Six hours of Jean-Luc Godard's pretentious rambling through "The History of Cinema" sounds incredibly unappealing, and I'd probably find excuses to put off watching it for as long as possible, though currently there's no commercial version available with English subtitles that I know of.
The TSPDT list has also gotten me watching all sort of other films that aren't on the list. I'm currently in the middle of hunting down everything that Peter Greenaway ever directed, after watching "The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover," the only Greenaway title on the current list at #855. Ditto animator Norm McLaren, whose work I stumbled across while searching for other shorts. And heck, I'll watch pretty much anything where Toshiro Mifune or Takashi Shimura appear, whether Akira Kurosawa is directing or not.
In short, I'm a happy cineaste, and still getting a lot out of They Shoot Pictures. It's certainly not a path to cinema enlightenment for everyone, and I've gotten frustrated at times, but it's working for me. I definitely feel like I'm getting more out of it now than I was a year ago, and I look forward to checking more titles off the list.
Happy watching.
---
My biggest beef with the list last year was finding so many mediocre films like Fellini's "Juliet of the Spirits," Coppola's "The Godfather Part III" and Cimino's "Heaven's Gate," crowding out better, but lower profile films from lesser known directors. I think I've got a better understanding of why these titles were included. Let's take "The Godfather Part III" for example. The first two "Godfather" films are among the most revered films of all time. You could talk endlessly about them, but eventually the conversation would turn to the final, less well-regarded installment. If you really love "The Godfather," it's mandatory to have an opinion about "The Godfather Part III," whether good or bad. And that's the reason why a lot of titles are on the TSPDT list. I may not like "Juliet of the Spirits," but I can't argue that it's not a significant film, or an absolutely vital one to see if you want to talk about the career and development of Federico Fellini, one of the most important Italian directors.
The more films I see, the more important context becomes. After a while, simply reading Wikipedia entries and Criterion booklets wasn't enough, and I started picking up books about film history and film theory to help me piece together the bigger picture. Film history isn't all about successes and breakthroughs and moments of genius, but about the failures and the disappointments and the missed chances too. Thus "Heaven's Gate," which was not just a bomb, but a legendary bomb with consequences that went much further than anyone could have predicted at the time. TSPDT does a good job of reflecting this. In some cases I still think that the emphasis on particular directors gets a little out of hand - there's really no reason to include so many obscure Fritz Lang and F.W. Murnau films - but I do appreciate that a director's failures can be at least as interesting as their successes, and provide just as much material for good discussion. There are a few entries that still confuse me, like "Starship Troopers," which I fail to see any cultural or artistic value in whatsoever, but I'm sure there's a good argument in support of it somewhere.
As I'm getting into the more obscure titles, the diversity of the TSPDT list gets more and more impressive. I've been watching films by Emir Kusturica, Gillian Armstrong, Ousmane Sembene, directors who are practically unknown outside of the very narrow contexts of Eastern European, Australian, and Senegalese film. A list of a thousand entries may seem extreme, but it ensures that once you get past the bigger, foundational classics, there's still room for cinema from smaller countries, documentaries, shorts, and other interesting corners of the film world that never get as much attention elsewhere. One of the most intriguing directors I've become familiar with thanks to TSPDT and the Criterion Collection is Stan Brakhage, an experimental filmmaker who creates these amazing video collages of abstract imagery.
I've also accepted the fact that I'm probably never going to finish the whole list, at least without expending much more effort than I think I'm willing to put into the venture. There are rarities like Andy Warhol's "Chelsea Girls," unavaliable except for rare museum screenings, out of print titles like Roberto Rossellini's "Stromboli," and films I just honestly have no interest in watching. Six hours of Jean-Luc Godard's pretentious rambling through "The History of Cinema" sounds incredibly unappealing, and I'd probably find excuses to put off watching it for as long as possible, though currently there's no commercial version available with English subtitles that I know of.
The TSPDT list has also gotten me watching all sort of other films that aren't on the list. I'm currently in the middle of hunting down everything that Peter Greenaway ever directed, after watching "The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover," the only Greenaway title on the current list at #855. Ditto animator Norm McLaren, whose work I stumbled across while searching for other shorts. And heck, I'll watch pretty much anything where Toshiro Mifune or Takashi Shimura appear, whether Akira Kurosawa is directing or not.
In short, I'm a happy cineaste, and still getting a lot out of They Shoot Pictures. It's certainly not a path to cinema enlightenment for everyone, and I've gotten frustrated at times, but it's working for me. I definitely feel like I'm getting more out of it now than I was a year ago, and I look forward to checking more titles off the list.
Happy watching.
---
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Oscar Drama Comes Early This Year
I debated with myself whether I should wait and let the situation cool down a little before adding my two cents about Brett Ratner pulling out as the producer of the Oscars yesterday, and Eddie Murphy pulling out as host only a few hours ago. But, well, I doubt any opinions I have about the situation now are going to change in the next few days, and I might as well get what mileage I can out of the drama while it's still fresh and bloody.
I didn't find Ratner throwing around vulgar language and a gay slur particularly shocking. I mean, "gay" itself was an accepted epithet throughout most of 90s and 00s before the culture changed for the better, and internet message board shenanigans have inured me to pretty much all forms of harsh language and shock tactics. The term Ratner used seemed a little on the extreme side, but otherwise pretty much in keeping with the slick, hyper-masculine, homophobic, frat-boy culture that's always been endemic in certain parts of Hollywood. You know, the same mindset that lets Michael Bay make the world's sleaziest toy commercials and provided "Entourage" with seven seasons worth of material. I figured that after Ratner's immediate apology and the slap on the wrist that came from the Academy a few days ago, that would be the end of it.
And I'm kind of pleasantly surprised that it wasn't. Hollywood has a high tolerance for jackasses, but it's also extremely image-conscious. And the Oscars, which are nothing if not about maintaining an image, put Ratner in a higher profile role than he wasn't prepared to handle. Oscar hopefuls may thrive on controversy, but it's anathema to the actual establishment that runs the whole show. Even though Ratner's comments were made during his promotional appearances for "Tower Heist," and they reflected an attitude of thoughtless flippancy more than outright malice, his association with the Oscars put him in the spotlight. And the remarks were unacceptable to enough people that they had consequences this time. Casual homophobia is no longer a laughing matter to the mainstream, and Ratner's resignation can be seen as a barometer of the changing culture.
Now I don't have any particular beef with Brett Ratner. He's crass and he's graceless, but he's always seemed harmless enough. He's known for good-natured buddy comedies, cutesy Mariah Carey music videos, silly action films, and actually made a better Hannibal Lecter film than Ridley Scott did. He may well be a hack, as some have claimed, but he's not without talent. When it was announced that he would be producing the 2012 Academy Awards ceremony back in August, I thought it was a good move. Ratner may not be synonymous with the kind of films that the Oscars usually honor, but he'd surely be able to liven up the moribund Oscar telecast, which could use a good infusion of more populist razzle dazzle, especially after last year's disaster.
To be honest, I was more worried about Eddie Murphy. The Oscar host gig has long been a haven for comedians past their prime, such as Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, and Steve Martin. However, Murphy isn't just past his prime, he's known to an entire new generation as an abrasive talking donkey, and even that wore out its welcome ten years ago. Now as a child of the 80s, of course I know that Murphy is a comedy legend and should be treated as such. And after James Franco and Anne Hathaway bombed, I'm glad for any comedian to get the hosting job again. But I can't remember the last time I saw an Eddie Murphy performance where he wasn't phoning it in or trying much, much to hard to revive his 80s mojo without much success. Murphy as Oscar host could have been great, but I thought it was equally likely that it would have been cringeworthy.
So now it's about four months to the ceremony, and the Oscars have no host and its big name producer is out. Fortunately longtime awards show producer Don Mischer is still hanging in there, and with all the attention, there's a good chance that bigger names might get interested and offer to lend their services. I'd like to see a more current comedian like Tina Fey or Steve Carrell try the hosting gig. Maybe lure in a celeb producer with a more substantive resume. Losing Ratner and Murphy at this stage is inconvenient, but there's still plenty of time to regroup.
As far as I'm concerned, one good thing has already come out of this - we have a new F-word that people now understand is not to be used in polite conversation. And with any luck, all the remaining little homophobic asides and insinuations that are still far too common will be totally passe by February.
---
I didn't find Ratner throwing around vulgar language and a gay slur particularly shocking. I mean, "gay" itself was an accepted epithet throughout most of 90s and 00s before the culture changed for the better, and internet message board shenanigans have inured me to pretty much all forms of harsh language and shock tactics. The term Ratner used seemed a little on the extreme side, but otherwise pretty much in keeping with the slick, hyper-masculine, homophobic, frat-boy culture that's always been endemic in certain parts of Hollywood. You know, the same mindset that lets Michael Bay make the world's sleaziest toy commercials and provided "Entourage" with seven seasons worth of material. I figured that after Ratner's immediate apology and the slap on the wrist that came from the Academy a few days ago, that would be the end of it.
And I'm kind of pleasantly surprised that it wasn't. Hollywood has a high tolerance for jackasses, but it's also extremely image-conscious. And the Oscars, which are nothing if not about maintaining an image, put Ratner in a higher profile role than he wasn't prepared to handle. Oscar hopefuls may thrive on controversy, but it's anathema to the actual establishment that runs the whole show. Even though Ratner's comments were made during his promotional appearances for "Tower Heist," and they reflected an attitude of thoughtless flippancy more than outright malice, his association with the Oscars put him in the spotlight. And the remarks were unacceptable to enough people that they had consequences this time. Casual homophobia is no longer a laughing matter to the mainstream, and Ratner's resignation can be seen as a barometer of the changing culture.
Now I don't have any particular beef with Brett Ratner. He's crass and he's graceless, but he's always seemed harmless enough. He's known for good-natured buddy comedies, cutesy Mariah Carey music videos, silly action films, and actually made a better Hannibal Lecter film than Ridley Scott did. He may well be a hack, as some have claimed, but he's not without talent. When it was announced that he would be producing the 2012 Academy Awards ceremony back in August, I thought it was a good move. Ratner may not be synonymous with the kind of films that the Oscars usually honor, but he'd surely be able to liven up the moribund Oscar telecast, which could use a good infusion of more populist razzle dazzle, especially after last year's disaster.
To be honest, I was more worried about Eddie Murphy. The Oscar host gig has long been a haven for comedians past their prime, such as Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, and Steve Martin. However, Murphy isn't just past his prime, he's known to an entire new generation as an abrasive talking donkey, and even that wore out its welcome ten years ago. Now as a child of the 80s, of course I know that Murphy is a comedy legend and should be treated as such. And after James Franco and Anne Hathaway bombed, I'm glad for any comedian to get the hosting job again. But I can't remember the last time I saw an Eddie Murphy performance where he wasn't phoning it in or trying much, much to hard to revive his 80s mojo without much success. Murphy as Oscar host could have been great, but I thought it was equally likely that it would have been cringeworthy.
So now it's about four months to the ceremony, and the Oscars have no host and its big name producer is out. Fortunately longtime awards show producer Don Mischer is still hanging in there, and with all the attention, there's a good chance that bigger names might get interested and offer to lend their services. I'd like to see a more current comedian like Tina Fey or Steve Carrell try the hosting gig. Maybe lure in a celeb producer with a more substantive resume. Losing Ratner and Murphy at this stage is inconvenient, but there's still plenty of time to regroup.
As far as I'm concerned, one good thing has already come out of this - we have a new F-word that people now understand is not to be used in polite conversation. And with any luck, all the remaining little homophobic asides and insinuations that are still far too common will be totally passe by February.
---
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
My Favorite Federico Fellini Film
One of the things I always appreciated about Fellini was his ability to stick his landings. Even if one of his films had me utterly lost and I couldn't follow what was going on, eventually Marcello Mastroianni would find himself on a beach in the early morning hours, for a moment of self-reflection after his wild adventures in "La Dolce Vita," or the white faces and the augustes would get together to put on one last glorious show in "The Clowns." As Fellini moved farther and farther away from his roots in Neo-realism, into his "Felliniesque" flights of fancy and experimentation, the harder it was for me to discern what he was trying to say, save for his endings, which always managed to leave me with something definitive. There have been Fellini films where all I've enjoyed were those endings, like "Juliet of the Spirits," his first color film. "Juliet," the final collaboration between Fellini and his wife, actress Giulietta Masina, was a particular disappointment, because their previous film together, "Nights of Cabiria," is my favorite.
"Cabiria" is the tale of a prostitute who works the streets of Rome, looking for love and happiness. At the beginning of the story she's dumped by her live-in lover, who pushes her into the lake and makes off with her purse. Stung, Cabiria declares she's done with men, and resolves to be independent. Played by Masina, Cabiria puts on a tough exterior, with a quick tongue and an indignant attitude, but she has a soft heart that lets her be taken advantage of, even when she should know better. Her tragic flaw and her saving grace is that she always has hope. Maybe this time things will turn out right. Maybe this man won't be a louse and a cheat like the others. Some have compared her to Chaplin's Little Tramp, a shabby figure in a funny outfit, eking out her survival in a world of poverty. Even in the worst situations, she resolutely keeps her chin up and dares you to look down on her. I liked Masina as Gelsomina, the little fool from "La Strada," but Cabiria is the best role she ever had, and she makes it hers completely.
The Rome of "Cabiria," which was shot in 1956, is a precursor to Fellini's more iconic vision found in "La Dolce Vita." Though largely recovered from WWII, we see poverty everywhere in the city. Wealth and luxury exist, as evidenced by Cabiria's run-in with a movie star, and the signs of social mobility around her, but they remain remote and out of reach. Fellini's style is still very Neo-realist here, emphasizing the gloom of darkened streets and rainy nights, where Cabiria stakes out her turf with a lonely umbrella. However his camera is starting to become more mobile, the settings a little more stylized. Cabiria's visit to a night club is a prelude to the wild revelries that would follow in "La Dolce Vita" and "8 & 1/2." Her visit with a hypnotist, of course, anticipates "Juliet of the Spirits."
Moreover, the film is not particularly concerned with condemning society for the plight of Cabiria. The sympathetic examination of the life of a prostitute is certainly in keeping with the aims of the Neo-realist movement, and Fellini includes satirical and critical segments among Cabiria's adventures, including some mild poking at religion and the upper classes. Yet Cabiria herself is such a strong, distinct character, her sorrows and joys come across as fiercely personal, and can be seen as largely the product of her own determined will and innate weaknesses. Society may be responsible for making a victim of Cabiria, but she'd never let society claim the credit.
And then we have the ending, which is about the most joyous and uplifting thing I've ever seen on film. I don't want to spoil it, but after many ups and downs, Cabiria finds herself a victim once again, and her boundless optimism dealt its harshest blow yet. Ten years prior, DeSica and Rossellini and perhaps the younger Fellini would have left her there, in her misery. But instead, we have a moment of hope. Not society, but perhaps we could say that humanity comes to Cabiria's rescue, revealing that her world is not entirely dark and cynical. "Cabiria" may have its moments of despair and desperation, but in the end it's nice to know that Fellini agrees with his heroine's outlook, and is willing to leave her with the hope of a happy ending, if not a happy ending itself.
---
What I've Seen - Fellini
Variety Lights (1950)
"Cabiria" is the tale of a prostitute who works the streets of Rome, looking for love and happiness. At the beginning of the story she's dumped by her live-in lover, who pushes her into the lake and makes off with her purse. Stung, Cabiria declares she's done with men, and resolves to be independent. Played by Masina, Cabiria puts on a tough exterior, with a quick tongue and an indignant attitude, but she has a soft heart that lets her be taken advantage of, even when she should know better. Her tragic flaw and her saving grace is that she always has hope. Maybe this time things will turn out right. Maybe this man won't be a louse and a cheat like the others. Some have compared her to Chaplin's Little Tramp, a shabby figure in a funny outfit, eking out her survival in a world of poverty. Even in the worst situations, she resolutely keeps her chin up and dares you to look down on her. I liked Masina as Gelsomina, the little fool from "La Strada," but Cabiria is the best role she ever had, and she makes it hers completely.
The Rome of "Cabiria," which was shot in 1956, is a precursor to Fellini's more iconic vision found in "La Dolce Vita." Though largely recovered from WWII, we see poverty everywhere in the city. Wealth and luxury exist, as evidenced by Cabiria's run-in with a movie star, and the signs of social mobility around her, but they remain remote and out of reach. Fellini's style is still very Neo-realist here, emphasizing the gloom of darkened streets and rainy nights, where Cabiria stakes out her turf with a lonely umbrella. However his camera is starting to become more mobile, the settings a little more stylized. Cabiria's visit to a night club is a prelude to the wild revelries that would follow in "La Dolce Vita" and "8 & 1/2." Her visit with a hypnotist, of course, anticipates "Juliet of the Spirits."
Moreover, the film is not particularly concerned with condemning society for the plight of Cabiria. The sympathetic examination of the life of a prostitute is certainly in keeping with the aims of the Neo-realist movement, and Fellini includes satirical and critical segments among Cabiria's adventures, including some mild poking at religion and the upper classes. Yet Cabiria herself is such a strong, distinct character, her sorrows and joys come across as fiercely personal, and can be seen as largely the product of her own determined will and innate weaknesses. Society may be responsible for making a victim of Cabiria, but she'd never let society claim the credit.
And then we have the ending, which is about the most joyous and uplifting thing I've ever seen on film. I don't want to spoil it, but after many ups and downs, Cabiria finds herself a victim once again, and her boundless optimism dealt its harshest blow yet. Ten years prior, DeSica and Rossellini and perhaps the younger Fellini would have left her there, in her misery. But instead, we have a moment of hope. Not society, but perhaps we could say that humanity comes to Cabiria's rescue, revealing that her world is not entirely dark and cynical. "Cabiria" may have its moments of despair and desperation, but in the end it's nice to know that Fellini agrees with his heroine's outlook, and is willing to leave her with the hope of a happy ending, if not a happy ending itself.
---
What I've Seen - Fellini
Variety Lights (1950)
The White Sheik (1952)
I Vitelloni (1953)
Il Bidone (1955)
La Strada (1954)
Nights of Cabiria (1957)
La Dolce Vida (1960)
8 & 1/2 (1963)
Juliet of the Spirits (1965)
Satyricon (1969)
Clowns (1970)
Roma (1972)
Amarcord (1973)
Casanova (1976)
And the Ship Sails On (1983)
---
I Vitelloni (1953)
Il Bidone (1955)
La Strada (1954)
Nights of Cabiria (1957)
La Dolce Vida (1960)
8 & 1/2 (1963)
Juliet of the Spirits (1965)
Satyricon (1969)
Clowns (1970)
Roma (1972)
Amarcord (1973)
Casanova (1976)
And the Ship Sails On (1983)
---
Monday, November 7, 2011
The "Harry Potter" Oscar Push
As it's November in Hollywood, and as this year's Oscar race is starting to take shape, the first "For Your Consideration" ads are starting to make the rounds. What surprised me is that I've been seeing a pretty heavy push for the "Harry Potter: The Deathly Hallows Part 2," the final "Harry Potter" film that was released this summer by Warner Brothers. And by surprising, I mean that my immediate, knee-jerk response was to dismiss the campaign as hopeless and the film as having next to no chance with Academy voters.
I understand why Warners is doing this. The "Potter" franchise has been one of its best performers over the last decade, and they want to send it off with a bang. And a boost in Oscar publicity would help spur DVD and Blu-ray sales, and all the usual ancillary merchandising. On the other hand, the "Potter" series is part of the fantasy genre, which the Academy traditionally shuns. It's also blatantly commercial in the way that most prestige films aren't - its entire existence is due to Warners wanting another summer tentpole for 2011, which lead them to split the final "Potter" installment into two. It also didn't do much new or innovative with effects or filmmaking technique, which tipped the scales for past genre nominees like "Avatar" and "District 9" in the past.
But then, I remembered "Return of the King," which was not only nominated for a raft of Academy Awards in 2004, but pulled off a sweep that year. It managed this in spite of being somewhat less well-received than the previous installments of "Lord of the Rings," weathering audience grumbles that the picture was too long and had too many endings. You're not going to find many people who pick "Return of the King" as their favorite of the trilogy. Most observers speculated that Academy voters were really rewarding all three films that night, as "The Lord of the Rings" was a watershed series, unmatched at that time in their scope, ambition, and critical and financial success. You could easily draw parallels with the "Harry Potter" series, which managed to maintain a wonderful consistency of quality through eight films. The "Potter" and "Lord of the Rings" film franchises even debuted the same year, with their first installments premiering barely a month apart in late 2001.
However, none of the previous "Potter" films has won a single Oscar, and has only collected nine nominations over seven films, mostly in technical categories. "Lord of the Rings" had already won six statuettes before the "Return of the King" sweep, and all three films were nominated for Best Picture. The Academy very well may want to recognize the "Potter" franchise in aggregate, but do the eight "Potter" films in aggregate match up to the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy? I have my doubts, especially since there were some pretty mediocre "Potter" films, like "Chamber of Secrets" and "Goblet of Fire" that tend to drag down the others. Also, none of the individual films really pushed boundaries or set standards. The first "Harry Potter" actually had pretty poor CGI effects, even for the time it was made.
On the other hand, eight "Potter" films might match up to an "Avatar" or an "Inception." The Oscar race has changed in 2004 in some significant ways that need to be taken into account. Since the number of nomination slots for Best Picture nominees was doubled a few years ago, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" has a far better chance of getting a slot than it would have five years ago. Also, this year's crop of prestige films hasn't been very strong so far, with few clear contenders coming out of the fall film festivals. If there are enough disappointments in December, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" might have a shot. The Academy does like rewarding consistency, and there's not much out there more consistent than "Harry Potter." Also, it would give younger viewers something to be excited about, and the Academy's been chasing their eyeballs for years.
But I think the trouble is what other categories you could justify nominations for beyond the usual technical nods. "Deathly Hallows Part 2" was very well reviewed, with better notices than just about any other wide-release film this year. However, like "Return of the King," it's clearly not the best "Harry Potter" film. When you try to break down its accomplishments, none of the performances really stood out, the directing was only so-so, and the script has some weak spots. The "For Your Consideration" ads list Art Direction, Editing, and Cinematography as possibilities, along with the usual Sound and Visual Effects categories. However, I definitely don't see it picking up any bigger nominations, and without those, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" won't be much of a contender.
Of course, the hype may be a factor. Warners is putting a lot of dollars behind this, and the series is old enough that it might kick up some nostalgic sentiment, or parents and grandparents might be swayed by cajoling kids. The film's box office is certainly nothing to sneeze at. However, it's also important to remember that the "Return of the King" sweep was seen in many circles as rather embarrassing overkill. Even if it gets the nominations, fans shouldn't get their hopes up - "Deathly Hallows Part 2" likely won't win a thing. But nominations alone should be fine for Warners' purposes. It'll get "Potter" into the awards conversation, and bring plenty of attention with it.
Then maybe, finally, they can let the "Harry Potter" franchise go away for a little while. I don't know about you, but I'm just about Pottered out.
---
I understand why Warners is doing this. The "Potter" franchise has been one of its best performers over the last decade, and they want to send it off with a bang. And a boost in Oscar publicity would help spur DVD and Blu-ray sales, and all the usual ancillary merchandising. On the other hand, the "Potter" series is part of the fantasy genre, which the Academy traditionally shuns. It's also blatantly commercial in the way that most prestige films aren't - its entire existence is due to Warners wanting another summer tentpole for 2011, which lead them to split the final "Potter" installment into two. It also didn't do much new or innovative with effects or filmmaking technique, which tipped the scales for past genre nominees like "Avatar" and "District 9" in the past.
But then, I remembered "Return of the King," which was not only nominated for a raft of Academy Awards in 2004, but pulled off a sweep that year. It managed this in spite of being somewhat less well-received than the previous installments of "Lord of the Rings," weathering audience grumbles that the picture was too long and had too many endings. You're not going to find many people who pick "Return of the King" as their favorite of the trilogy. Most observers speculated that Academy voters were really rewarding all three films that night, as "The Lord of the Rings" was a watershed series, unmatched at that time in their scope, ambition, and critical and financial success. You could easily draw parallels with the "Harry Potter" series, which managed to maintain a wonderful consistency of quality through eight films. The "Potter" and "Lord of the Rings" film franchises even debuted the same year, with their first installments premiering barely a month apart in late 2001.
However, none of the previous "Potter" films has won a single Oscar, and has only collected nine nominations over seven films, mostly in technical categories. "Lord of the Rings" had already won six statuettes before the "Return of the King" sweep, and all three films were nominated for Best Picture. The Academy very well may want to recognize the "Potter" franchise in aggregate, but do the eight "Potter" films in aggregate match up to the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy? I have my doubts, especially since there were some pretty mediocre "Potter" films, like "Chamber of Secrets" and "Goblet of Fire" that tend to drag down the others. Also, none of the individual films really pushed boundaries or set standards. The first "Harry Potter" actually had pretty poor CGI effects, even for the time it was made.
On the other hand, eight "Potter" films might match up to an "Avatar" or an "Inception." The Oscar race has changed in 2004 in some significant ways that need to be taken into account. Since the number of nomination slots for Best Picture nominees was doubled a few years ago, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" has a far better chance of getting a slot than it would have five years ago. Also, this year's crop of prestige films hasn't been very strong so far, with few clear contenders coming out of the fall film festivals. If there are enough disappointments in December, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" might have a shot. The Academy does like rewarding consistency, and there's not much out there more consistent than "Harry Potter." Also, it would give younger viewers something to be excited about, and the Academy's been chasing their eyeballs for years.
But I think the trouble is what other categories you could justify nominations for beyond the usual technical nods. "Deathly Hallows Part 2" was very well reviewed, with better notices than just about any other wide-release film this year. However, like "Return of the King," it's clearly not the best "Harry Potter" film. When you try to break down its accomplishments, none of the performances really stood out, the directing was only so-so, and the script has some weak spots. The "For Your Consideration" ads list Art Direction, Editing, and Cinematography as possibilities, along with the usual Sound and Visual Effects categories. However, I definitely don't see it picking up any bigger nominations, and without those, "Deathly Hallows Part 2" won't be much of a contender.
Of course, the hype may be a factor. Warners is putting a lot of dollars behind this, and the series is old enough that it might kick up some nostalgic sentiment, or parents and grandparents might be swayed by cajoling kids. The film's box office is certainly nothing to sneeze at. However, it's also important to remember that the "Return of the King" sweep was seen in many circles as rather embarrassing overkill. Even if it gets the nominations, fans shouldn't get their hopes up - "Deathly Hallows Part 2" likely won't win a thing. But nominations alone should be fine for Warners' purposes. It'll get "Potter" into the awards conversation, and bring plenty of attention with it.
Then maybe, finally, they can let the "Harry Potter" franchise go away for a little while. I don't know about you, but I'm just about Pottered out.
---
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