I wish I could tell you upfront that, unlike the Academy Awards ceremony, I can say with certainty what my best picture is. Well, it’s my blog, and I can be as indecisive as I damn well please.
The local mall’s movie chain held an Oscar film festival for the past week and a half. For $35, I got to see all of the Best Picture nominees for $35 even. The math was too good to pass up, and I meticulously planned around my class schedule so I could catch all of them. Below are some thoughts I had about the movies, which I arranged from least liked to most liked. I bunched them into tiers that reflect levels of enjoyment—many of the films are similar in quality to the point that I couldn’t make one better than the other. This is especially true among my top three films, which all were superb.
Tier V: Not Up to Snuff
Hacksaw Ridge
While I’m content with the other eight nominees being part of this category, I found Hacksaw Ridge to be a confusing inclusion. The story is very interesting—a seventh day Adventist faces personal oppression for enlisting in World War II, only to save countless lives—but the execution is not compelling. The first half of the film has the style of a dewy look at pre-WWII America, though it does not shy from the pained aftermath of World War I. The second half abruptly shifts to a violent war movie, but the violence feels less tragic than it does indulgent.
Perhaps my biggest issue with the film was the casting. Andrew Garfield is admirable in the role of Desmond Doss when performing his war scenes, but he feels aloof in the first half of the movie. He spends much of that time wearing a sheepish, goofy grin, and what is supposed to feel earnest comes off as dopey. Perhaps the worst casting decision is Vince Vaughn in the role of Doss’ army sergeant. Vaughn tries to play the role with an old-school toughness, but his character feels clichéd as a result. The brightest performances belong to Teresa Powell as Dorothy Schutte, Doss’ love interest, and Hugo Weaving as Tom Doss, Desmond’s alcoholic father and a struggling veteran of World War I.
One area the film lacked in was religious symbolism. It feels interwoven to the story, especially in the persecution Doss faces in basic training, which is a useful approach. There are a number of callbacks to Christian stories, and Doss’ personal story comes across as genuine. Yet I was expecting a bit more in terms of religious symbolism to drive home some of the story’s themes.
Tier IV: Good
In trying to describe La La Land to a friend, the first word that came to mind was “white.” Problem is, I was using it in a pejorative sense, and it’s really unfair to films like Manchester by the Sea and Hell or High Water that show white cultures with meaning and character. My problem with La La Land is that looking past the cinematic razzmatazz, there just isn’t much heart. The stakes feel very low as a result, and I found it difficult to become invested in the characters, their relationship, and their career goals.
Even the music, which featured a handful of catchy songs, lacked in emotion. Between this film and Whiplash, it’s clear director Damien Chazelle has a soft spot for big band jazz. This style blends well with movie musical songs, but the effect is to have a shallow understanding of a complex genre, Kareem Abdul-Jamar wrote an interesting piece at The Hollywood Reporter criticizing the racial connotations of La La Land’s use of jazz as a storytelling element, but I think he misses the mark: if anything, Keith is more honest about the reality of jazz than Ryan Gosling’s character ever could be.
Having watched Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling in Crazy Stupid Love, I knew they had decent chemistry together. But I don’t feel like they click in a meaningful way here, and it feels like the movie does most of the heavy lifting while they coast through. For example, it’s a real treat to watch them levitate to the ceiling of the Griffith Observatory, but all of the oomph comes from CGI, not great acting. In particular, Stone’s and Gosling’s singing and dancing left me wanting more. I’m not asking for Singin’ in the Rain, but their big first duet number felt rapidly underwhelming.
In a way, I may be reading this movie wrong—it feels like there is potential for a more cynical look at what love and success means to these two characters. Potential doesn’t mean results, though, and La La Land comes off as modest entertainment.
Tier III: Very Good
Hidden Figures
In a way, I feel primed to interpret oppression in entertainment through a prism of suffering. 12 Years a Slave, Philadelphia, Brokeback Mountain—all carry tremendous pain in their hearts, though all are wonderful stories. But Hidden Figures takes a different tact right off the bat: when faced with a skeptical police officer on a rural Virginia road, Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson (Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monae, respectively) cleverly persuade him into giving them a high-speed escort to NASA facilities in Langley.
It’s an example of the film’s approach to the oppression faced by these characters: while Hidden Figures tackles racism and sexism head-on, its philosophy is that hard work and a sense of righteousness wins in the end. This plays out well for the most part—a scene of Kevin Costner destroying a “Colored Women’s Bathroom” sign is the exception—and suggests a different approach to oppression in film compared to the aforementioned dramas. While this may sacrifice some storytelling power, it means Hidden Figures is accessible to a wider range of audiences—thus the benefits and drawbacks even out.
The biggest key to that success is the excellent acting from the trio of lead characters. Johnson, Vaughan, and Jackson each are at different points in their lives, so they bring unique stories to the film. Johnson deals with being the only black woman in a room full of white men, Vaughan faces a workplace hierarchy that doesn’t recognize her efforts as a supervisor, and Jackson challenges public segregation to advance as an engineer. Their bond is undeniable, and much credit goes to Henson, Spencer, and Monae for breathing so much life into the characters.
Tier II: Very, Very Good
Lion
The painful irony of uncertainty is that by not knowing the outcome of a situation, the highs and lows of hope and despair are powerfully amplified. It’s the driving force of Lion, which tells the story of how Saroo Brierley went missing from his childhood home in India and emotionally fought to return to his mother. Saroo faces peril as a child in West Bengal, where he does not know the local language. After a tumultuous experience, he is adopted by a couple from Australia. A triggering moment in his early adulthood places him on the search for his adopted hometown, a goal that nearly ruins his mental health. Dev Patel is excellent in his role as an adult Saroo, bringing the pain of his character and finding the path to self-forgiveness. Though he comes off as unlikable in his worst moments, I found myself rooting so hard for Saroo towards the end.
The film did touch me on a personal level in interesting ways. The complicated dynamic between Saroo and his adoptive brother Mantosh reminded me of my relationship with my own brother, who like Mantosh suffers from mental disability. It’s not a straight line to love and happiness, but their dynamic is a reminder that we can get there eventually. It also made me wonder if I would have the strength to one day adopt children—I’ve always thought that if I can provide for a child by my mid-30s, I would certainly consider adoption. It isn’t easy for Saroo and Mantosh’s adoptive parents, but their tremendous love for their children is heartwarming.
Arrival
As a student of communications, I’m always fascinated by the ways in how people convey meaning to each other. As a student of politics, I’m interested in seeing what goals people have when they interact with each other. These personal trappings lead me to be interested in Arrival, but what really grabbed me was the emotional core of the movie.
Arrival stars Amy Adams as a linguist who is recruited to learn the language of an alien species that has landed on Earth. Complicating matters is that these visitors have landed in 13 locations across the planet—and each country has its own machinations on how to act. Adams moves against the press of time and pessimism of governments in order to understand the aliens’ purpose of visiting, and her powerful stoicism
To discuss the plot in too much depth would be to spoil the ending, and the film does such a wonderful job of turning the plot on its ear that I hesitate to describe it. What I will say is this: it touched me on a spiritual level, and made me wonder about the purpose of life when weighed against providence. I don’t believe we are past the ability to control our own destinies, but Arrival made me wonder how I would react when faced with a difficult fate.
Moonlight
I take a cautious approach to films like Moonlight that have art house inclinations—I find the style to be fairly hit-or-miss. Thanks to a great cast and solid direction, Moonlight is a remarkably good example of the genre that has mainstream appeal. The film tells the story of Chiron, a young gay Black man, in three acts of his life. He doesn’t struggle with his sexuality as much as the world around him does, a remarkably empathetic telling of his story.
Much attention has been given to Mahershala Ali’s portrayal of Juan, who takes on the role of surrogate father to Chiron as the child’s biological mother struggles with addiction. His work as a crack dealer clashes with that parentla responsibility, as he deals to Chiron’s mother, and Ali wonderfully portrays his inner-conflict. In the role of Chiron’s biological mother, Naomie Harris also does a wonderful job of shedding light on the dark emotional space of addiction.
The most pleasant surprise of the movie was that it features a relatively happy ending. I entered with the impression that, because the movie had a lot of Oscar hype, it would end in sadness and heartbreak. But seeing Chiron find peace with the world around him—and those who caused him pain the past—is an excellent message of hope and resilience.
Tier I: Exceptional
Fences
My interest in Fences began when I first learned it was being filmed in Pittsburgh, one of my favorite cities. It increased when I learned one of my favorite actors, Denzel Washington, would star and direct. I thought it would peak after watching the excellent first trailer. But the movie managed to top even that, with a strong story and the best acting in a movie this year.
Washington made a strong choice by bringing with him a core of actors from their 2000s stage revival. Washington, Viola Davis, and Stephen Henderson all have excellent chemistry and know how to deliver the material. Newcomer Jovan Adepo excels with this group—his performance as the son of Davis’ and Washington’s characters deserved a nomination. But the core of the film is the relationship between Troy Maxson (Washington) and Rose Maxson (Davis), and the tension between the two is breathtaking. Davis, in particular, has the ability to summon emotions that are dominant, but not over-the-top. Though the film is Washington’s project, Davis is its shining star.
A number of critics were disappointed that the film felt too much like a stage adaption, and I can understand their perspective. There are no great feats of staging or cinematography, and most of the film plays out in the Maxson’s backyard. But who cares? The visuals are the perfect canvas for a strong story and the best ensemble acting of 2016.
Hell or High Water
“It just doesn’t make much sense no more, robbin’ banks for a living.” This offhand line from a bit player in Hell or High Water seems ironic considering the story is a contemporary take on old cowboys-and-bandits stories, but the film actually agrees with this sentiment. Most films take a fairly straightforward approach to the genre, but Hell or High Water puts its own ironic spin on the story, pitting an impoverished family against a money-hungry bank. The film pits the morality of each character against one another, then completely pulls the rug out from under it in the third act, leaving audiences to wonder who they should have rooted for.
Jeff Bridges stands out as Marcus Hamilton, a Texas Ranger nearing retirement, pouring himself into one last chase before it’s all over. He’s far from the only great performance in this film, though. Gil Birmingham does a great job as Hamilton’s partner, being the stoic counterpart to Hamilton’s colorful persona. Chris Pine, an actor I otherwise dislike, is excellent as Toby Howard, a conflicted father with less-than-pure intentions. And Ben Foster is chilling as Tanner Howard, Toby’s reckless, inhumane partner in crime.
The moral lens of Hell or High Water focuses on income inequality and the long economic depression of rural America. It does not ask questions of personal responsibility or place blame at the feet of any cultures, but it does examine how economic systems are structured to favor certain groups. What’s most satisfying about the film is that while it posits the lead characters as avengers of this injustice, it shows that their morals are not as justified as it first seems. This takes the vengeance aspect of westerns and raises real questions about what moral code is acceptable for this type of action.
Manchester By The Sea
I find that most Oscar contenders that tackle grief tend to be listless dirges that are boosted by a false consciousness of assuming serious tone as meaningful. What pleased me the most about Manchester by the Sea, however, is the way it shows people handling loss—with deflection, denial, and humor. Large swaths of the movie feel almost like a comedy, with constant sarcasm and ball-busting to diffuse the pain of the reality they face. But Manchester by the Sea has a scene where it tackles loss and grief head-on, a plot reveal executed so well as to leave filmgoers emotionally devastated.
The driving force behind the film is the excellent screenplay. Kenneth Lonergan does an excellent job of crafting not only plot, but meaningful characters. Whereas La La Land felt nonspecifically white, the characters here feel authentically Irish Catholic. This helps turn the ensemble of characters into a culture, from the leads down to the smallest bit parts. Though there are a few technical glitches, Lonergan’s directing helps to smooth a story that frequently switches place in time.
Casey Affleck’s performance as the lead character has drawn strong praise, and he does a good job of playing a grief-stricken loner—he is an Irish Goodbye personified. But much of his success is due to a story that takes his character on an unbearable journey of pain. I couldn’t help but think that the part would have been performed better by, say, George Clooney or Michael Keaton.
Brain Nourishment 