Johnny Simmons

There are some movies that exist almost like historical occurrences. I was seven when Titanic was released and I remember hearing about its infamy long before I actually saw it, so for a long time afterwards I used to think that Rose was some homicidal nut who somehow “killed” Jack. I still wonder if persons really didn’t get the concept behind that final “I’ll never let go”, but I suppose I’m already getting ahead of myself.

     

I can’t think of any movie released in my time which would qualify as a movie event as much as Titanic. On good days I might bet on The Lord of the Rings, but even though – artistically –I prefer it I can’t credit anyone but Cameron with the grandiosity that’s so essential to this one (and I know my fellow Titanic aficionado Nick would agree with me). I already reviewed Titanic for my top 100 countdown but I suppose it’s proof that you like a movie when you keep finding new things to discuss about it.

       

This time around I want to focus with specificity on Cameron’s screenplay. With all the madness that went on the nineties I can’t say that it was some sort of Oscar highway robbery, but I have to admit I still get incensed that it didn’t get an Oscar nod which I silly considering the general unimportance of the Oscar and the lineup which was generally strong. Fine, forget sentimental dialogue and hackneyed concepts, maybe I’m overreaching but the only way to make the fantastical sinking of the ship work in context without turning it into some plaintive docudrama IS to set it against the backdrop of something as emotionally manipulative as a similarly fantastical first romance which is marked by its ephemeral nature. Titanic (the real one) is already a historical entity the movie can only work with the audience being allowed to focus on the disaster to occur and the story Cameron carves is a perfect complement. Emotionally interesting, but not arcane and sanguine enough to not distract from that catastrophic second half. Whatever, I’m a fan.

     

The cultural significance of Titanic are colossal and difficult to miss. Its fourteen Oscar nominations and eleven wins are unsurpassed. Up until Avatar it was the cinema’s biggest money maker. It marked a deep reworking of technology in films. It reworked and essentially launched the careers of Oscar nominees at the time Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio to super stardom and it spawned a number of spoofs about jewels in the water. It subsequently became one of the most, if not the most reviled Best Picture winner that few were willing to express affinity for. Luckily, I’m not a proud person because I feel no sense of embarrassment in citing Titanic as on of my favourite films.

Titanic is not my favourite film, but I marvel at the sheer scope of the piece. The film spans over three hours and yet persons who’d bemoan the cumbersome nature of other excellent pieces (like The English Patient, Gosford Park even The Lord of the Rings) would be willing to take an uninterrupted gander at it. Call it what you will, but few films of such length can keep the audiences interested for so long. As a narrative Titanic is split, evenly more or less, into two parts – the romantic half (pre-iceberg) and the action half (post-iceberg). Of course, like any film with a split narrative there are moments where the two overlap, and both “parts” are mediated by the words of our narrator in question Gloria Stuart. If forced, I’d probably single out the first half as my favourite even though each has things going for it. It’s the in the first part where the ensemble nature of Titanic is most evident. I’ll admit, Cameron is no E. M. Forster with his writing but I’m always wary of his critics who seem to officious. I’m not sure if it’s his skill for the inane, or the actors skill for the camp but it all works gloriously – like Fisher’s bedroom confession to her daughter, “Do you want to see me working as a seamstress?”; or Winslet’s much-too-verbose Rose’s soliloquies of sorts “Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”. The words are not the beacon of the film, but there’s some sort of sadistic thrill as I watch hearing Billy Zane tear through lines like, “Yes, you are, and my wife. My wife in practice if not yet by law, so you will honor me. You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor a husband. Because I will not be made a fool, Rose."

The thing is, even though it’s the first half that sets Kate and Leo up as dramatic actors it’s the second half that solidifies their skill. Certainly, they’re nowhere near the top of their game but the work they do as the ship begins to sink should not be ignored. It’s the difficulty that countless actors today cannot overcome. Winslet and DiCaprio need to effectively act against the already overwhelming backdrop of the special effects and they emerge doing credibly good jobs. The sinking of the ship is a thoroughly amazing visual spectacle, and yet we rarely forget the ill-fated lovers, for each actor carves a true character against the almost impossible. For Winslet it’s the film’s most deliciously ridiculous moment – as Rose is lowered into the lifeboats only to subsequently jump off, Kate has no lines and it’s up to her to sell a plot device that’s borders on fanatical; and she does. It’s an indicator of the brilliant actress to come. For Leo it’s later, and shorter. The moments just before his “death” are poignant, even if in its deliberateness. “you're going to make babies and watch them grow and you're going to die an old lady, warm in your bed."

          

Of course, the crux of my argument for the film should lie in its consummate technicalities, but I won’t bother. The costumes, the art direction, the visual effects and even Horner’s score which manages to remain poignant despite the recitative nature. What makes a film good? I don’t know, but I do know I’m willing to sit down and look at Cameron’s film whenever it’s on. I know the narrative like the back of my hand, I can recite the “inane” lines as if I wrote them and when anyone is moved to lambast it for its faults I’m often moved to imitate Rose and Jack; when the infuriating footman tries to warn them about the folly of their ways the turn around to him in unison and say “Shut Up!”

       

Titanic appears at #23 on my list of favourites.

By nature, I am an obsessive soul. Thus, whenever I get interested in something my appreciation of it is not often tempered and usually veers into the neurotic. Neurotic is probably an ideal way to describe my relationship with the Academy Awards. Even though the actual results were less than perfect that first time [re picture] I was hooked from the beginning. There was a time I could list [from memory] Oscar winners in the major categories from the mid-seventies onwards. I told you – neurotic. Even though I’ve gotten wiser in the missteps of the Academy I still [inadvertently sometimes] end up regarding that day in Spring as the culmination of all things cinematic. This year, however, the nominees have not even been announced and I’ve already become disillusioned, I fear.

             

The state of the race [a word more pertinent than we realise] had exasperated me before it even began. The fêting of Meryl Streep from the get-go already annoyed me. Sometimes it really doesn’t help not being a fan of Streep because she is the most ubiquitous actress [actor] at the moment. Nevertheless, despite my general my general apathy towards her I wouldn’t deny excellence if I see it. I'm always ready to recognise a good performance form her, which is why Julie & Julia disgusted me so much. Of course all these adjectives – best, excellent &etc – are completely subjective, but the only thing Julie & Julia did was confuse me as to the validity of its place in the Oscar race. I’ve never been fond of the accented Streep preferring her more subtle performances [her Clarissa Vaughn remains as one of my favourite portrayals of the last two decades]. Of course, she’s accented quite often but Julie & Julia regurgitated memories of Bridges of Madison County a film that only makes me see red. I finally realised my issue with Streep when I read this lucid article on the woman. It gets a bit snarky, but is a startlingly good read. It’s not that her Julia Child is a horrid performance. But, chameleon or not as someone who knows absolutely nothing of Julia Child her performance made me cringe at points. I couldn’t help but imagine the more unaffected Sigourney Weaver in the role. What really irked me was the residual belief that Meryl had been robbed of a third Oscar, this entitled to this win for Nora Ephron’s diverting comedy. It’s as if they had forgotten that La Streep has two Oscars – the entire debate of her comeuppance being extinguished by woman after woman was lost on me. What turned my disappointment in the Best Actress race into the deepest dredges of disgust was the addition of a certain Sandra Bullock. I’ve never bore ill will towards Ms. Bullock – her work in countless comedies from the inspired Ms. Congeniality and While You Were Sleeping to even the dubious Two Weeks Notice has always charmed me in their placid way. I saw The Blind Side late in the game, and although the term abject horror would be an over-exaggeration of my response it wasn’t far from it. I couldn’t even write a proper review the thought of the film annoyed me so much. Of course I’d prefer Streep’s flawed but superior Julia to Bullock’s uninspired Leigh Ann, but the very fact that that’s the end all of it is quite dismal.

                                                      

I’m yet to see the heavyweights for the Actors’ race. Bridges and Firth are not my favourite actors, but with the good roles I’m willing to board either train; but I can’t help feeling cynical and thinking that perhaps Bridges is not being rewarded for a [possibly] good performance in Crazy Heart but for lifetime achievement. Noble perhaps, but still annoying. When people like Ben Foster and even Sam Rockwell are ignored at ceremony after ceremony while Morgan Freeman – a man I admire without fail – can be nominated for his unimaginative Nelson Mandela only puzzles me, but is nothing compared to George Clooney’s moderately charming but lifeless Ryan in Up In the Air. But then I realise that with so many celebrating these pieces it’s not so much as unoriginality from the awards’ ceremonies than actual belief that these performances are the best of the year, which is even more disconcerting. If Freeman gets love for coasting in Invictus, why not Johnny Depp for Public Enemies?

Mo’Nique’s Precious win has many citing it as one of the imminent saving graces of the next award ceremonies and with her eclectic Mary Jones it wouldn’t be completely undeserved. But that category has become so auto-tuned that voters just seem to throwing the usual suspects together and ignoring quieter gems with potential to disturb the waters – Samantha Morton, Marion Cotillard [not only for Nine] on some days even Patricia Clarkson. I’m not saying that all of these women trump Mo’Nique, perhaps none of them do. I realise the ball’s completely in her court, and since I’m an undeterred fan of the comedian I don’t call foul. I’m worried that I’m missing something when Anna Kendrick keeps appearing on so many best-of lists, Seriously? We're touthing this performance? But, I won’t go there.  Again.

          

The race seems to have come down to Avatar and The Hurt Locker and scores have cried foul at Avatar’s Golden Globe win. Not me. I’m still undecided as to which of the two I’d give my vote to, but Cameron’s Avatar has turned into the film I’m rooting for. Not because it’s my favourite film of the year. It’s not. But despite it’s gigantic box-office it’s ironically tuned into the underdog. Someone, I can’t recall who, called it the tendency to hate the popular kid – which Avatar has turned into. I won’t deny the ostensibly potency of The Hurt Locker – it’s probably even more profound for Americans who know its themes all to well. Bigelow and Boal have crafted something wonderful, but the relegating of Avatar to some strange names “video-game movie”, “Pocahontas redux”, “stilted dialogue”, "stodgy acting" and on and on and on confuses me. Some people just don’t like it. That’s understandable, but I’ve never been a film apologist yet I can’t recall the ludicrously horrid dialogue of Cameron. I’m sure it wasn’t Oscar winningly quotable. But since when has Best Picture turned into a screenplay award? I understand the correlation between the two, but I can’t help calling foul when Avatar’s screenplay is advertised as one of the worst this year. But that’s probably one in the long list of things eluding my poor brain this Oscar season.

I’m signing off from this season. I doubt I’ll continue my four year long tradition of skipping school to hear the nominations live [embarrassing], and I’m definitely not inclined to join in predictions, though it’s always fun to read others. I’ve already committed to the LAMB’s 2010 production of Devouring the Oscars and will be writing on a Best Picture nominee. I’d love to see an off-kilter choice like Bright Star, The Messenger or Coraline. I’d prefer not to write on Invictus, Up In the Air, Inglourious Basterds or Precious. I don’t want to write a bashing post since nominations should be a happy thing. I’m sure at least a few of the nominees will be pleasing. Watching the Golden Globes though, I couldn’t ignore the number of sad [and sometimes angry faces] – Lee Daniels, Jason Reiteman, Quentin Tarantino, Jeremy Renner all looked peeved throughout. I wouldn’t have been backing many of them but I realised that each of the nominees want to win and deserved or not I wish them the best of luck. Being nominated has become less estimable and I can understand their apparent melancholies. But as far as Oscar is concerned, I've lost the drive. Let's hope next year is better...

Somewhere, about ninety minutes into Avatar I was certain that this was one of the best – perhaps the best – movies of the year. The feeling didn't pass. Not really. I told The Mad Hatter a few days ago that Avatar was dangerously close to perfection, perhaps the word should have been maddeningly close. The hint of perfection was so close, so near that the failure to attain that perfection was maddening. Yet, despite not being perfect Avatar is still one of the better films I’ve seen this year.

                

Avatar occurs in the future in a place called Pandora. I’ll refrain from any plot excursions even though I suppose spoilers wouldn’t affect the effect of the film. In a way Avatar reminds me of incongruous musicals like Chicago or even Moulin Rouge The greatness of these films is not in their plot, but in their filmmaking and Avatar is no different. It’s a visual spectacle that’s incredibly phenomenal and enthralling. I found it to be one of the most visually satisfying film since the underrated James & the Giant Peach – probably better than that.

The thing with Avatar though is that with the visuals as characters themselves the actors are not given a feasible chance to harvest their talents. This does not stop Sigourney Weaver though. It’s folly for me to expect this to pick up any awards traction, but Sigourney does everything one can do in such a film. She emerges as the strongest of the lot [voice and body actors] giving a full performance. In fact her final moments on screen are the most poignant for me. Which is actually a contributing reason that the film didn’t get that A.

                                       

Avatar is not perfect. It would have been higher if it was. My issue with Avatar – which is essentially nitpicking – is that the climax for me occurs with fifty minutes to spare. Sigourney’s demise and the burning of the forest are all so enthralling and I’ve become so invested that there was nowhere to go but downhill. Thus the effective ending can’t but feel like a letdown. Of course, being less than a stellar is not offensive. And I couldn’t help but chuckle at the refrain "I See You" through the film. A line the more astute of you will remember from Titanic.