Johnny Simmons

Despite its massive running time (the film covers about two and a half hours) The English Patient is the type of film where every line and moment seems like a potential pivotal revelation. In a near confrontation with Willem Dafoe’s Caravaggio Juliette Binoche’s nurse tearfully explains that her patient is in love with ghosts. It doesn’t stand out as expressly revelatory because the film, a well-timed dance between the past and present, depends on memory. Yet, even though it is the memories of Almasy which acts as the foundation on which the film lays the entire film is about the characters and their ghosts. Some are moving forward, some are stuck in transit – but they’ve all got their mind on the ghosts in their past.

            

For the longest while, whenever someone asked me to name my favourite film – the first thing that flashed through my head were those images of the sandy desert and the mysterious caves. For, despite the many stories, and the overlapping themes – that is what The English Patient begins and ends with….endless sand…The English Patient is, after all, a story about the war even though it never goes directly to the front like Saving Private Ryan. It is one story divided in two. The prologue is in the desert – Count Almasy’s International Sand Club, and the epilogue is in Italy, that of the eponymous patient, his nurse – Hana and her Sikh lover and the film cleverly opens with the plane crash in the air which unites the two – prologue and epilogue – to make a glorious whole.
        
The English Patient depends on Ralph Fiennes to be the centre of the story. It is his story afterwards. The Count seems to be the role that fits him perfectly – a coldness that is not apathy but just stillness. He spends half of the film in extensive makeup existing as his extensive burns, and yet he never plays the Patient as a victim. Fiennes has always been an extensively subtle actor (sometimes misconstrued as blandness) and thus, the role of Almasy fits him like a glove. We see him raise his voice only twice – the first time at a drunken dinner, the second after a fateful run-in with some soldiers. It’s this very sereneness that draws Katherine to him. Her first words to him are, “I wanted to meet the man who could write such a long paper with so few adjectives.” He’s so obviously disconcerted by being under scrutiny, and he winces almost imperceptibly. Then he replies, “A thing is still a thing, no matter what you put in front of it. Fast car, slow car, chauffer driven car…still a car.” Katherine’s combative argument? “Love. Romantic love, filial love, platonic love. Quite different things, surely?” We’re being given clues this early on; it’s Almasay’s inability to distinguish between things which becomes the cause of his undoing, and for Katherine it’s her over attention to detail which becomes hers.
       
It’s an expansive cast, and I’m especially partial to Juliette Binoche (one of my two favourite supporting actress winners) but a significant portion of the film depends on the rapport between Kristin Scott Thomas and Ralph Fiennes. They both exude that, somewhat trite, stiff upper lip that comes to be considered akin with Britons. I’m susceptible to the british, most of you know that, but that’s not why I think that Katherine Clifton and Laszlo de Almasy are encapsulation of Scott Thomas and Fiennes at their best. They evoke a quiet tenderness that immediately zeroes in on the profundity of this relationship, even before it begins. There’s a beautiful scene where the two are trapped in a vehicle during a sandstorm. Almasy doesn’t whisper sweet nothings in her ears, instead he’s telling her about African meteorology. But the moment is marked by a softness that you feel like you can reach out and touch; and in one of the film’s most understatedly beautiful and devastating moments Katharine reaches out to the paint on the window as we segue into the patient’s face and it’s almost as if she’s reaching across time. That’s how powerful their relationship seems, that’s how real the images evoked seem.
         
There’s something incredibly tactile about the production of The English Patient. I’m wary of using a word like masterpiece, because I know that I’m hardly the least nepotistic critic – I have an agenda here, after all. But, it’s important for that illusion of the film’s setting seeming corporeal because the grief that bounds the characters together must seem as palpable. It’s anyone’s guess why the concept of love stories have become so reviled, but The English Patient is a love story although the kind of love is debatable. Just as Katherine ruminates on the aspects of love so the film depends on moments of affection – sometimes lost in pain. There’s so much delicacy with the way in which Juliette Binoche plays Hana as almost a revelatory open person but she’s carrying those battle scars with her. Her act of caring for the wounded is only a way to eschew her own troubles. There’s almost franticness evident in the way she plays hopscotch alone or chops off her hair without even paying attention. The sweetness of that first meeting with Kip (Naveen Andrews is perfect here), which is easily one of the film’s most natural moments, conceals the desperation in this woman who literally laughs at the promise of death.

Maybe I love The English Patient so much because it’s saturated with subtext upon subtext. It is a story of love, but it is also a story of war. “It’s a war, when it’s a war where you are becomes important” – it’s another of those lines that’s easily ignored but if anything it’s one of the biggest clues as to the Patient’s countenance when he replies, “I hate that.” Minghella is often accused of pushing his agendas through film, and perhaps it’s not absent here since the film closes with Katherine’s lovely We are the real countries not the boundaries drawn on maps monologue. The idiosyncrasies of the characters are what makes them perfect for each other, and unable to exist in unison. Minghella (he writes the screenplay as well as directs it) is careful to not paint any party as villainous. Even as Katharine and Almasy luxuriate in their romance, her husband waits in the car for a forgotten anniversary dinner. Everything shifts when you put it into different perspective so that the ostensible importance of “world affairs” seems skewed. It’s why I have faith in Minghella’s sincerity. “Betrayals in war are childlike compared with betrayals during peace. New lovers are nervous and tender but smash everything, for the heart is an organ of fire.”
So true, and so beautiful.

I always go overboard with the supporting women because year after year it’s always this category that offers the widest foray of good performances, most of which incidentally are not as lauded as they ought to be. Last year, my top three supporting women (Marion Cotillard in Nine, Samantha Morton in The Messenger, Rosamund Pike in An Education) all did great jobs in elevating potentially stock roles and this year there’s one again a gamut of supporting women to choose from. I single out five nominees, but I make mention of twenty more bringing the total to 25. Take a look:

            

(click on photos for review)

          

Like Bale she’ll get the kneejerk support for all the wrong reasons. The fact that she’s brilliant here doesn’t hinge on the fact that she’s playing against type, Charlene’s toughness. Adams will always impress me because she always has the ability to appeal to my emotions with her facial expressions – and it’s a running thread in her performances that doesn’t make them any less worthy. She’s no saint, and she’s as interested in forwarding her own agenda in Micky’s life as his dysfunctional family – but her heart in the right place, and it’s that sort of internal conflict facing her that Adams is able to demonstrate. Like a cat, she’s always ready to fight but she’d much prefer to sit back and relax. (Highlight: “I’m Charlene, we just met. Do we have to do this again?”)

 

I was prepared to like this performance, but at first I was sceptic. “No, Kristin, you’re overdoing,” I thought. “Too obvious with the coldness, too palpably prickly.” And then she surprises me, and keeps surprising. It’s sort a thin role, and then again it’s not when she plays it and she really manages to pull off the rapport with Aaron Johnson well even though Duff has the more “obvious” chemistry. Speaking of Duff, though, both women burn brightest against each other and it’s that sort of filial chemistry that can’t be forced (well in actuality it is, they are *acting*). (Highlight: Confrontation with her Sister)

Kerry Washington in Mother & Child (as Lucy)

Of the three main role hers seems to emerge as a caricature almost immediately. I immediately feel an eye roll coming on as I watch her talk about how much she wants a baby – and then amidst all the mannered ways of Lucy you sort of get the authentic of the character even though she’s still mannered and then those small moments like a dinner with her husband’s parents or watching her try (almost like it’s a physical exertion) to be the perfect wife it’s almost chilling in a Stepford wife sort of way. But Kerry still manages to make this character the most sympathetic of the three. Odd, and yet sort of awesome. (Highlight: “Who the fuck does she think she is?”)

The thing I like most about Weaver’s work here is, incidentally, how difficult it is to read her. It’s no surprise that she’s been doing this for decades because the adeptness with which she approaches the character is impressive. Someone remarked, and I agree, that Weaver’s biggest credit is ensuring that Animal Kingdom doesn’t become bogged down by the barrage of maleness that surrounds it. She doesn’t “tower” above the narrative, but still looms – often in the background – but still in our consciousness ensuring that her agenda emerges as important – even if she’s really not as certain about everything as she pretends. (Highlight: “I’m trying to find my positive spin...”)

I love her eyes , sure they look like she’s constantly squinting (it’s just her face) but she’s like a hawk in the way she takes note of everything and she shrouds her sagacity behind a smokescreen of congeniality. Case in point: her first scene where Becca brings the clothes to Izzy. She’s watching them closely, she knows what’s going on and then she injects her random bit of kooky mother humour and her soothsaying powers. You’re tempted to roll your eyes and this sort of lovable woman, but it’s just her brand of damage control. She spends the entire film being there for Becca and yet carrying around her own grief – with aplomb. (Highlight: too hard to pick.)

FINALISTS: Helena Bonham-Carter plays the officious Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland to brilliant results (more here). She succeeds in the overbearing loudness all the while ensuring that the character’s (admittedly vague) humanity is shrouded in the high comedic way of it all; Kim Cattrall and Olivia Williams don’t really play off each other in The Ghost Writer but their opposing viewpoints are an important part of learning about our protagonist. Cattrall’s ostentatious mannerisms do not indicate not a flaw in her performance but a clear realisation of her character and Williams’ pragmatism is brilliant to watch; Thandie Newton is riveting to watch in For Colored Girls so in touch with her troubled character easily doing some of the best work of her career; and Naomi Watts emerges from Mother & Child with a refreshingly good handle on a difficult character managing to deliver emotional poignancy in those last few minutes.

SEMI-FINALISTS: There are a whole slew of women who don’t make it to the finalists, but are instrumental in lending bits of hilarity, emotion or fun to their films. The most notable lot are: Helena Bonham Carter for being as perfect as necessary as the charming wife on the sidelines in The King’s Speech; Cher for putting her natural cadence to good use and being essential to the joie de vivre of Burlesque; Patricia Clarkson for doing the same thing in Easy A while always augmenting and never taking away from Emma Stone; Marion Cotillard for being the best-in-show in Inception while playing a woman that’s more memory than realism; Loretta Devine for impressing with the monologue work in For Colored Girls and reminding us why we fell in love with her assertiveness so many years ago; 

Anne-Marie Duff for being wonderfully charismatic in Nowhere Boy playing the role of exotic mother to perfection, but finding the heart beneath; Kimberly Elise for managing to turn what could be a hot mess of character into something worthy of our appreciation in ; Barbara Hershey for working the vaguely clichéd stage mother to better results than you’d expect in Black Swan; Keira Knightley for taking a humdrum character and presenting her as a sort of flawed anti-heroine in Never Let Me Go; Melissa Leo for being especially moving opposite her suns even amidst all the distractions of being loud in The Fighter; Vanessa Redgrave for turning a potentially tepid romance flick into something worthy of luminosity in Letters to Juliet; Anika Noni Rose for bringing an effusive charm to her character in For Colored Girls and maintaining that dignity throughout the lowest points; Susan Sarandon for being the best in show in The Greatest playing her grief more obviously than we’d expect from her, but succeeding nonetheless; Sissy Spacek for surprising with how she decides to show emotion in Get Low and then slaying you towards the end without even saying anything; Kierston Wareing for playing her potentially terrible mother as someone with more humanity than you’d expect.

               

I’m always fond of this category because there are so many brilliant supporting women to find who’re doing great stuff – I could, perhaps, collectively offer up the entire casts of For Colored Girls, Rabbit Hole and Scott Pilgrim vs the World. People are always lamenting the sorry state of female roles, but I don’t know I’m always being wowed by the work the work they offer up. This category always gets me excited, I offer up two dozen supporting women – do any of them appear on your list? Which supporting women made your 2010?

Although it’s not my favourite film, I often think of Gosford Park as the sleekest films I know. I know it sounds perverse but was it a person; I think I’d be moved to seduce it. It’s even stranger when I consider the fact that there’s little that’s erotic about it. I cited it as my favourite ensemble of the last decade, and I’d probably call it the best ensemble if I included the nineties and eighties, too. Gosford Park is a film concerning class boundaries. A group of aristocrats, along with a film producer and actor, make their way to the eponymous Gosford Park (though it’s never referred to by name) for hunting, and other activities of the elite, for a few days. With all these genteel folks come their servants. In the midst of the second night, a murder occurs – the host. But this is not a Clue inspired piece; neither it is an Agatha Christie thriller. Certainly, a significant amount of beauty derives from a moving confession concerning the murderer, but Gosford Park is less concerned with who and more about how and why…and not just the how and why of the murder, but the lives of our characters – all of them. In this way, Gosford Park sets itself up for something almost akin to failure. The cast is expansive and Altman has to manoeuvre upstairs, downstairs, and back again and all this must be done whilst keeping the narrative taut, but maintaining sedateness that’s necessary. I feel it succeeds on all counts – it’s curious how Gosford Park doesn’t only improve on subsequent viewings but still manages to thrill just as much as the first time.

Alex (who adeptly juggles two blogs of note: Alex in Movieland and My Last Oscar Film) weighs in it and his words sum it up so perfectly:         

I’m glad Alex touched on the genre shifting that’s occurring. I really can’t say how impressive it is that Gosford Park manages to touch on all that while still maintaining that austere brilliance. There’s a fluidity to Gosford Park even in its demarcated plotlines. I never think of it in pieces, but as one continuous narrative. The entire thing just flies by…It’s interesting though; I think of Kristin Scott Thomas first when I think of the actual film, for many reasons. She’s not my preferred performer in it (*that is she*), but she’s second. Sometimes I’m even more thrilled by her Sylvia McCordle than her Katherine Clifton, and considering how much I’m smitten with the latter – that’s no mean feat. There’s a marvellous dinner moment that always pleases me, I end up rewinding each time. Truthfully, it depends just as much on Emily Watson (her career best in my opinion) and Michael Gambon (deliciously wicked, here).

The moment has more value than Elsie’s out-of-turn response. Kristin puts so much emotion into that single line reading and she’s such a steely hostess we rarely get to see her true feelings. Sure, she’s a bit of bitch but she’s an affable bitch despite the ostensibly cold exterior. She’s a strange woman, really. Her scintillating chemistry with Philippe is replaced with a frosty shoulder the next morning. Then there’s a moment that confuses me, I’m not sure if it’s Sylvia or Kristin caught unawares. When Henry Denton has the hot coffee spilt in his lap she releases an almost inauspicious titter that I never see coming no matter how I often I watch the film. It’s another reason why Gosford Park works so well, everything is just so realistic. And on that note of realism consider Yojimbo (of the sage Let’s Not Talk About Movies) and his thoughts…

You could probably take his words and let me just shut up (but I’ve never been one to have a word filter…). It’s those intricacies that define Gosford Park. Blink and you’ll miss them, but pay attention and you’re in for an embarrassment of rewards. Gosford Park manages to seem ridiculously sagacious and yet still relatable. No we don’t live England where the class system is dying but we are people and take them from their setting and everyone at Gosford Park is a real person capable of all the human emotions we can imagine (from the grossest vices to the oddest bouts kindness). It’s the things like the fact that Sylvia can seem so austere but the slightest chink in her armour is obvious when her husband (inadvertently?) chooses her sister over her. Or the weirdest way in which Mabel is almost sickeningly enamoured with the movie guest – Jeffrey Northam who has the unenviable task of being both participant and voyeur in the film. Then there are the quotable lines which every actor milks (but not too much) but none more than Maggie Smith who’s line readings (I haven’t a snobbish bone in my body) – she manages to make any line turn into a scintillating example in caustic brilliance.

I’m never sure if Altman and Fellowes want us to feel that those downstairs are nobler than those upstairs, because they’re all quite wicked. Kelly MacDonald gets to play our ingénue and as a servant we get more insight into the workings of their minds. Emily Watson’s Elsie is in the same register as Scott Thomas’ cold Sylvia – of course the only thing that divides them is that one’s a maid and one’s a lady. It seems more than accident that our not-so-benevolent host is sleeping with them both (he is sleeping with his wife…right?) Then, all the hilarious if innocuous plot points are threatened when the emotional core takes precedent – that’s another part of Gosford Park that you’re unprepared for. Helen Mirren is just too excellent for words that I never can get over the highway robbery concerning her and that little golden man. Altman almost stifles us with one beautiful exposition after another, further enhancing the fluidity of the narrative. It’s more than that, though. Helen moves from the brilliance aloofness in her scene against McDonald to being compellingly moving without a word as she cries in the bedroom with Eileen Atkins. And speaking of Eileen Atkins… It’s weird how so few lines seem so weighty when a talented performer gets them – “Don’t cry, they’ll hear you.” It’s chilling.

The thing is, at the end of the day it wouldn’t be wrong to single out its style as Gosford Park’s saving grace. Strip it bare and what we have is the tale of the poor struggling in the world of rich (and the rich unhappy even though they’ve got it “all”) – it’s a world where the poor either strive for idealistic escape or succumb to their lives. It’s not that Altman and Fellowes cover up this simple ideology with fluff – nothing in the film could be termed as such. What they seem to realise is that life is made up of more than the black-and-white and the beauty in Gosford Park is watching these shades of the gray as the minutes go by, the beauty in reading a script that’s too perfect for words, the excellence in watching Altman submit his magnum opus and it’s the brilliance in seeing every single actor in the cast turn in an excellent performance (the most deserved SAG win I can remember). Here it appears at #5 on my list of favourites.

          

I’m still on a semi-break (until tomorrow when most of the horrid exams will be done) but I couldn’t help but take up the baton from Jose and list ten beautiful screen-couples. He gave ten excellent ones, and challenged me to do the same. It’s a task that’s endless because there are so many options to choose from. Should I go only classic? Should I go only modern? Should I take acting into account? Should I include platonic relationships…? What to do…what to do…? Now would probably be the right time to tell you that I’m really neurotic about list making (and everything really, but more on that subsequently). The list is not spontaneous, I put some amount of thought into this – even though it’s very possible I’ve still missed out on a few. I considered beauty of the actors, beauty of the characters and all around loveliness.

                       

I weighed whether or not to include any of Jose’s choices…but I decided not to: though Natalie and Warren in Splendor in the Grass would feature somewhere. So take a look at my un-impulsive list.

                   

From Here to Eternity is more remembered for that other fateful pairing and their gyrations on the beach, thus Monty’s greatest performance is forgotten and so is Reed’s richly deserved Oscar win. He’s playing a soldier in World War II, and she’s playing a hooker with a heart of gold. Reed has got to be one of the most forgotten actors of her generations (and it’s not as if she didn’t star in popular films), though I suppose she doesn’t have that “individual” look of someone like, for example, Elizabeth Taylor. She pairs up excellently, with Clift (though of course, who doesn’t?) and though her arc is not the strongest of the film’s they do pull out good performances whilst looking good.

The muted response to Benjamin Button only continues a year and a half after its release. I was, as I’ve intimated, a fan and though the film loves to lacerate both our stars in cakes of makeup when they finally do correspond in looks and age it is lovely to watch. It’s not just CGI as some of the more snarky dissenters have claimed, although if it is – it’s a flawless job. Cate is not conventionally pretty but she is beautiful to watch and though she’s not the most beautiful woman of her age bracket* (all things being subjective), she and Brad are just lovely to watch here.

Generic? You bet. What can I say, I’m like that. It’s very obvious, which I suppose makes it all the less inspired. Thank God Leo finally was able to cast off his “pretty boy status” (why is it bad for male actors to be good looking, but it’s a prerequisite with the women?). Kate Winslet is gorgeous here, red hair agrees with her and together the two are just beautiful to watch. It’s the sort of pairing that reeks of patency, but it’s still worth mentioning...I mean, how can I bet against them?

           

I hate how Doctor Zhivago is rarely remembered seeing as I consider it to be one of the greatest pieces of the sixties (and my favourite piece from Lean). For me, Julie Christie is a softer version of Glenda Jackson (analogy: Jackson is to Blanchett as Christie is to Kidman). She doesn’t shy away from her looks, though. Notice how her iconic performances make ample use of her beautiful face (even when she’s past the conventional age of beauty). Omar Sharif has always had that very debonair charm that makes him seem to be a very personable man, and he sure has a distinctive face. The two seem as if they’d be an odd couple but in reality meld together so beautifully…hence their inclusion here.

Isn’t this another obvious choice? Maybe it’s the costumes from Sandy Powell that makes them all the more gorgeous…but they still look gorgeous together. Maybe, just maybe, I’m projecting residual Shakespeare love on to his screen incarnation and muse, but I don’t think so. How many ways can you write that they look gorgeous together? Not many. So just look…

REVIEWED (sort of)

Ben Whishaw is almost too good-looking to be considered a man, and there are so many scenes where Cornish strikes me as a Nicole Kidman doppelganger, so it’s already on the list from that. I love Bright Star very much and it continues to grow on me as time goes by I cannot help but say that this is easily one of the most gorgeous young couples last decade. Young love is lovely to watch.

The reformed bad boy and the good Catholic girl is one of those romantic norms that continue to persist. Brando and Saint both won Oscars for their portrayals (deservedly so) and though they don't get romantic lighting or luminous costumes they bring out the essence of beauty. It's natural and it is always heartbreaking. That scene at the bar between the two is just a beauty.

And another Fiennes…Katherine and Almasay are the type of couple that wouldn’t be out of place in a sixties classic and I suppose with Minghella's tendency to seem like Lean they wouldn't. Neither is as traditionally good looking as the cinema would have, but they are lovely especially Kristin whom I adore, and their pairing hear is just great. To think that Kristin almost lost the role...Minghella knew he was doing when he cast her.

I always feel sad that this pair never went on to greater things. It is easily my favourite Shakespearean film and Zeffirelli’s choice of using actual youths (and newcomers) to portray the young couple is brilliant. It only strengthens their case when you notice the good performances that they give.

The first thing that struck me after seeing Nowhere Boy was how short it was. In that sense, I’m unsure how much of a traditional biopic it is. But really, I don’t care. My desire for seeing it depended less on my interest in The Beatles and more in completing the trimester of Aaron Johnson films I’d seen this year (one, two) and in and seeing a film with Kristin Scott Thomas who I have an ongoing love affair and who I persist deserves to find more mainstream success than she does.

I remember earlier in the year when the nominations for the BAFTAs came out I was quite glad to see Kristin Scott Thomas Kristin Scott Thomas has the oddest ability to speak English as if it were not her natural language. Listening to her as she enunciates there’s not the slightest trace of Sylvia McCordle or Katherine Clifton and though it’s odd at first how much she seems to be acting unsubtly it’s not exactly her fault that she slapped with the bulk of uncomfortable expository dialogue. It’s the sort of dull symbolism that Sam Taylor Wood and Matt Greenlagh seem intent on propagating. From Kristin’s black hair and constant costumes to Anne-Marie Duff’s red hair and similarly red (or rose-tinted) costumes it’s all very rote but I can’t feel particularly angry at him. From its fanciful name to the almost ludicrously convoluted plot lines Nowhere Boy seems to exist more as a musical fable than a musical biopic.

With everyone around being forced to play some fabrication of a character and not a person (albeit excellently), so of course it ends up depending on Aaron Johnson for a large portiont present therealism of the film. I remarked after seeing Kick-Ass that Johnson seemed to have the potential for greatness, with which his superhero incarnation would be remembered as the beginning of it all. Oddly, despite only now going worldwide Nowhere Boy and The Greatest were shot before Kick-Ass. I'm now excited to see what else he can do since he's obviously a talented youngster, managing to make Lennon (the character) and his antics believable even in light of some dubious script decisions.

I would not charge Nowhere Boy with being revolutionary or particularly innovative in its techniques. But so often (and again and again) I end up being seduced by the little British films. The crux of the film’s charm does not lie in the fact that it’s based on Lennon’s life. It doesn’t depend on your knowledge (or interest) in the Beatles, I’m not sure it even depends on your interest in the story. It’s a valiant effort of an independent drama that depends less on realism and more on its allure, and I was enticed.

"I haven't ridden Western before."

             

"I was a lesbian once at school, but only for about fifteen minutes" 

                

Juliette Fontaine in I've Loved You So Long (2008)          

"The worst prison is the death of one's child. You never get out of it."

            

Sylvia McCordle in Gosford Park (2001)               

"Well, I know you're interested in money and fiddling with your guns. But I admit it: when it comes to anything else, I'm stumped."

                    

Katharine Clifton in The English Patient (1996)               

"Am I K in your book? I think I must be."

                      

          

I always wonder if writers know that a particular character is going to be excellent on screen. I suppose with the obvious ones like Blanche DuBois, Lady Macbeth, Lavinia are obviously something special even as we read. But supporting ones are tougher to gauge. I never realised the power of Honey until I saw Sandy Dennis’ chilling portrayal and even last year I never thought Helen would be so important until Rosamund did her work. It’s something I love in an actor – when they take something slight and turn it into brilliant. Has anyone done it more brilliantly than she...? – spoilers ahead…

                  

Sometimes I think that Gosford Park is a movie that must be watched thrice; the first time to set the pace and understand the story, the second time to see the clues thrown our way and the third time to piece it all together. I suppose that that’s a reason that it’s not as widely appreciated since no one feels they should have to watch a film more than once. Still, regardless of how you watch and even though Gosford Park boasts so many actors doing good work (namely Kristin Scott Thomas, Ryan Philippe, Maggie Smith) Helen Mirren stands out. Like households in the era the home is not ruled by the woman of the house – Sylvia, but by the Head Maid – Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Wilson is a woman who says little but thinks much. Her way of identifying the servants below the stairs is an excellent device. You know I get all hot and bothered when actors show extreme subtlety and Mirren is excellent doing that. Notice her first meeting with Clive Owen. When he says his name there is the slightest jolt in Mirren’s eye that’s easy to overlook but becomes obvious as we re-watch. She repeats the name tentatively and then says coolly, “Mr. Parks, below stairs you’ll be known as Mr. Stockbridge.” It’s only after the film ends we realise just how much Helen is telling us by saying nothing.

She really has a difficult role to play actually. She needs to be cold but she cannot be cold and throughout the film, even though we know she’s a bit of a hardass we never dislike her or her doubt her skill, and yet she’s never pompous about being so good. I like the moment where Kristin Scott’s Sylvia bursts in during the servants’ dinner. She’s perturbed to find out that one of her guests is a vegetarian – of course the omniscient Mrs. Wilson has already found out and addressed the situation. I love Sylvia’s response. Thank you, Mrs. Wilson – ten steps ahead as usual. It’s the tongue-in-cheek lines I love because Sylvia’s words are more accurate than even she realises. But Helen balances this by giving us glimpses of Mrs. Wilson that puzzle us – like that trip she takes to Mr. Stockbridge (Mr. Parks) room. The wistful look on her face is difficult to ignore, and even in that same aforementioned dinner gathering as Parks speaks of his childhood such subtle reactions from Mirren. What a genius. Her line readings are just excellent, she has one of the best in the film actually – “I’m the perfect servant, I have no life.” Her entire final scene with McDonald is excellent, there is no tinge of self pity, just brilliant honesty.

But what really thrusts the film forward are those final moments opposite Eileen Atkins, it changes our entire perspective of Ms Wilson and she does it with little words. That breakdown is not just for theatrics but it’s the most moving portion of the film. As she says the line “I’ve lost him. I’ve lost him.” The gravity of what we’ve seen before finally registers and it’s all for the brilliance of Helen Mirren.

        

The English Patient is one story that occurs in nonlinear format – on one side Count Almásy (Ralph Fiennes) along with his “International Sand Club” explore the deserts in the prelude to World War II. As we learn more about Almásy and his relations with married woman Katherine Clifton (Kristin Scott Thomas) we see The Patient (Almásy) after being disfigured by a horrible plane crash. As the wife of our heroine Firth makes his first appearance as he joins Fiennes troupe with his wife. We immediately see that he is quite devoted to her, even if he is a bit ingratiating. The film is a love story between Katherine and Almásy but it never tries to make Geoffrey into a villain – though he is not perfect. There is a scene towards the middle when he realises the affair on the night of their anniversary, it’s short and he does not have any lines but Firth handles it well. His involvement in a fatal plane crash towards the end angers the audience, but we don’t lose sympathy. As beautiful as it is to watch Katherine and Almásy we realise that for all his faults Geoffrey’s is dedicated to his wife and the pain that he feels at her betrayal is palpable. Of course, it’s no wonder that the character is forgotten since he’s not the romantic lead, but having yet to see A Single Man I single this out as my favourite performance of Firth.

So. Now it's on to 2001 and the acting of the women. It was pretty here and there, I didn't agree with either of the AMPAS' choices. But that's nothing new, for me.

           

Cate Blanchett in The Fellowship of the Rings

Laura Dern in Mulholland Drive

Cameron Diaz in Vanilla Sky

Michelle Pfeiffer in I Am Sam

Kate Winslet in Iris

Strangely Kate doesn’t make the list, though I think her performance is outstanding. I’m not sure I quite ‘got’ Mulholland Drive, and strangely I don’t think I care. Still, Laura Dern was fine as I remember her. Blanchett’s Galadriel was a thing to behold and she made a profound mark with such a small role in a film of such cope. Pfeiffer and Diaz were underrated. Pfeiffer’s character in I Am Sam was a throwaway one, but completely realistic, and Diaz was the best thing in Vanilla Sky. That’s not saying much, though. And although Kerry Washington didn’t make the list, her work in Save the Last Dance was the strongest in the film too. And she was a complete delight.

                   

Cate Blanchett in Bandits

Helen Mirren in Gosford Park

Maggie Smith in Gosford Park

Kristin Scott Thomas in Gosford Park

Marisa Tomei in In the Bedroom

Marisa Tomei showed us in In the Bedroom that her Oscar was not a fluke; but she was steamrolled by the Gosford ladies for me. Helen Mirren is most impressive as Mrs. Wilson – a truly exceptional performance, followed by the overlooked Kristin Scott Thomas in a cold turn as a longsuffering wife. Cate Blanchett’s comedic genius only just edges out Maggie Smith for another comedic performance, this time in a drama.

                    

Halle Berry in Monster’s Ball

Julia Stiles in Save the Last Dance

Naomi Watts in Mulholland Drive

Sigourney Weaver in Heartbreakers

Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde

Watts and Berry are just knocking on the door of the five. Once again, I can't jump with such delight on Mulholland Drive train, and I can't say I has aching for Watts to be nominated; but she was good in her film. But Sigourney and Reese carve enjoyable comedic characters in their films, and though I suppose it’s residual adolescence I do find Stiles charming in Save the Last Dance.

              

Judi Dench in Iris

Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge

Nicole Kidman in The Others

Sissy Spaceck in In the Bedroom

Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones’ Diary

Judi Dench’s Iris is not her strongest work, but it’s still nomination worthy. Nicole Kidman takes the gold and silver for Moulin Rouge and The Others respectively. Of course double nods are not allowed at Oscar, but both were exceedingly impressive performances. Sissy Spaeck is third for her haunting work in In the Bedroom.