Johnny Simmons

The weirdest thing about this episode had to be the Lady Antebellum duet between Puck and Rachel. The fact that they get the two loudest Glee club members to sing a duet (to entice the footballers) which ends up being a sappy country had to be most unintentionally hilarious thing of the night, if a trifle disappointing. Other than, that, Glee was back to it’s madcap ways and it made for a generally fun episode. Sue going crazy is unsurprising but it works because that’s Sue and you can tell Jane relishes those moments. The idea of Finn actually being a leader makes no sense to me, because evidence shows that he’s actually a bit of a coward (case in point: choosing football over Glee, not turning up to take the Glee photo). Call it character development if you wish, but it’s sort of ridiculous even if it’s nice seeing him and Puck on speaking terms. The episode works as a standalone, but it makes sense within the narrative and though the musical numbers didn’t thrill me it’s a solid return. Welcome back.

[B+]

I swear: I’m reticent about watching an episode every week because it’s so near to the end. It’s often difficult to pinpoint a significant detail about Big Love that makes it work, it just all ends up happening. Bill is still getting pressure from all ends – including the family, and now that it’s been revealed that Marge was underage when they married it’s turning into an even bigger clusterf****. I still can’t resist those scenes where the three wives come together to spar, and there was something brilliant about having Barb confess to wanting a third partnetr in the marriage. This episode was setup sort of brilliantly – like you’d notice that each of the wives have significant one-on-one moment with Bill, and though Jeanne wasn’t the strongest this episode her and Bill’s moments were great. And the only thing near as good as seeing the wives bonding is the seeing the children doing the same. Bill’s dream towards the end was freaky as hell, though.

[B+/A-]

Ignoring actual plotpoints and group dynamics, this episode felt like something straight out of the season one catalogue – though, I’m not certain if its buoyancy is more akin to sometimes misguided morals of something like “Bad Reputation” or the smart (if occasionally silly) humour of something like “Mash-Up”. It’s probably somewhere in between because I can palpably point out some of my favourite and least favourite things about Glee all in this episode. Even if Murphy’s actual plots sometimes exasperate, the episodes he writes almost always have a singularity to them that’s a bit necessary in the all the bipolarity (see “Laryngitis”). There were scenes this week, like Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel bemoaning their loveless lives or a ridiculously hilarious scene with Santana helping out at a hospital reek of lunacy – but in the good sort of way where Glee is comfortable with its madness. But then, there are those Finn/Quinn scenes which don’t exasperate as much as confound. True, Monteith is not half as trite as he was one year ago but Finn’s sudden confidence boost seems disingenuous and though I’m not even invested in the Puck/Quinn arc that they had seemed interested in perpetuating it’s weird how that just sort of fizzled out. I’ll admit, though, Mark Salling performing Queen sort of tipped the scales in a favourable way.

[B/B+]

I keep wondering why Julia and Joel keep getting little to no screenplay in this back half of Parenthood – it’s making me sort of antsy about what the writers have up their sleeves. That aside, though, Parenthood delivers another solid episode. In typical sedate fashion the Haddie drama doesn’t reach to a catastrophic boiling point and something as simple as a conversation with Connie leads to end. I have to trumpet Bonnie Bedelia who keeps on impressing with small portions of screen-time. I’m not particularly invested in the Haddie drama, and the two main arcs this week are much more important. On one hand we get the return of Seth to wreak havoc on Sarah and her children which acts as an impetus for one of my favourite things about the show – the various brother and sister relationships, this time the one of Drew and Amber. Whitman and Heizer are both great in their roles and their chemistry is excellent, and it’s nice having Sarah deal with an actual adult problem and not have her being a loafer. I’m not as fully enthusiastic about the problems with Jasmine and Crosby, not on the surface at least but that final argument between the two is excellently played – on both sides. And, though, I kind of don’t want Parenthood going for these cliff-hangers – it was a necessary plotpoint. I sure am interested in seeing where this one goes.

[B+]

There was something especially slight about this episode which seemed, at times, more interesting in overreaching to fit the paradigm of Valentine’s Day than genuine comedy. I’ll maintain that my favourite portions were the few minutes of watching the four Pritchett grandchildren interacting and then the ending signalling the return of Dylan who’s probably my favourite guest star on the show. As, per normal, the Dunphy’s come out on top when it comes to the adults – if only because Julie Bowen, and especially Ty Burrell are always willing to go the extra mile with the physical comedy, without making it ridiculous. The other two arcs aren’t terrible, though. I couldn’t help but remember the Will & Grace episode where they were both interested in the same guy when I watched Cam and Mitchell going crazy over Mitch’s assistant. It’s still not an ideal plotline worthy of Ferguson, but I’ll take it. And, I can’t resist the connection between Ed O’Neill and Sofa Vergara which is always fun to watch.

It’s difficult to resist the great rapport that Amy Ryan and Steve Carrell, no other guest star has managed to fit so well into the fabric of the office as much as Ryan and watching them go overboard with the PDA – and everything about their kooky relationship – manages to work for this episode. It’s awkward about watching Erin and Andy go on a scavenger hunt to find Gabe’s Valentine’s Day gift for her. I’m still not sure if it’s a good weird or a bad weird. Of course, those conference meetings always end up being highlights of the show and watching them all consider having closets for office hook-ups (and masturbation) plays out well, and closing zinger with everyone ruminating on Valentine’s Day ended up being surprisingly well played. (PS. Ryan is awesome.)

[B+]

Generally, Parks & Recreation is not the kind of show that depends on the machinations of a guest star to add humour – but Megan Mullaly is more than just an incidental guest star and when she returns for Part Two in the Ron & Tammy saga it makes to have her become integrated with the other cast members. Watching Mullally and Offerman go at it is nothing short of brilliant and I only hope that the Emmy’s won’t ignore a second chance to honour Mullally brilliant guest work here. The two remaining arcs are smaller, but still satisfying. Watching April trying to deal with the constant peppiness of Chris is hilarious even if thus far the season seems to be either hit-or-miss when it comes to integrating Ann into the show. And of course, seeing Poehler and Scott interact is always fun.

[B+/A-]

Sometimes I feel as if Tracy Jordan exists simply to be the bane of my existence when it comes to enjoying 30 Rock. I almost never manage to wholeheartedly enjoy an arc he’s featured in, and this week’s attempt – although much more than just fair – still fails to stick its landing absolutely. Everything else works perfectly, though. Carol and Liz’s relationship reaches its end and in natural 30 Rock fashion it’s absolutely ridiculous. Naturally, it’s only when the relationship ends I realise just how great Damon and Fey work opposite each other. The true highlight, though, was Elizabeth Banks and Alec Baldwin. More often than not I’m on the fence about Avery/Banks’ worth on the show, but watching her bemoan the potential Canadian nationality of her child is surprisingly hilarious – despite a potential hackneyed joke. But, it’s not really about freshness of the humour – 30 Rock is all about ways of doing the same thing over and over and making it work, and this episode works (even if Jenna is sorely lacking, ugh).

[B+]

It’s weird, this episode doesn’t have the actors doing exceptional work and the writing is not perfect but it ends up being a solid, very solid, episode where things actually move forward. Callie, Arizon and Mark are dealing with her baby issues and I just want to say (for the umpteenth time) that Sara Ramirez is awesome. A pregnant Callie is almost as fun to imagine as a pregnant Bailey, so it’ll be interesting to see where the writers take that one. Thatcher’s back in the hospital, and though I’m not his biggest fan it actually makes for interesting drama and it’s so good to see Meredith growing up and being mature with Lexie and with her mother’s legacy. I don’t love the idea of that doctor putting Alex in his place, but it works as a plot device and it’s weird how neither April NOR Jackson annoyed me this episode. In fact, April had one of the most hilarious bits as Callie tried to comprehend her peppiness. Good stuff.

[B+]

Big Love: A-

Parks & Recreation: B+

Bill Paxton in Big Love: A-

Chloe Sevigny in Big Love: B+/A-

Ty Burrell in Modern Family: B+/A-

Ginnifer Goodwin in Big Love: B+/A-

Steve Carrel in The Office: B+/A-

Nick Offerman in Parks & Recreation: B+/A-

Tina Fey in 30 Rock: B+/A-

Jeanne Tripplehorn in Big Love: B+/A-

Jane Lynch in Glee: B+

I’m a bit unexcited about the showing of actresses this year, which is weird because I’m willing to admit that collectively it’s been quite a good year. Communally there’s a wealth of performances in comparison to last year when my top 5 (Mulligan, Cornish, Pfeiffer, Ronan, Wright Penn) was easily decided. I don’t know if, perhaps, the ensemble nature of the films this year accounts for an effusive lack of enthusiasm, even though I’m fond of each member of the top 5. And even the Oscar nominees are collectively good, easily one of the better line-ups in recent memories. Ah well, let’s see what I chose.

     

& Annette Bening in Mother & Child (as Karen)

The term banner year seems so splotchy, implicitly suggesting that all previous years hold little worth – but it’s been a banner year for Bening for me. I sort of thought her one-two punch in 2006 (Running With Scissors, Mrs. Harris) was unbeatable but watching her play Karen and Nic almost like extensions of the same person – but then at times completely opposite makes me even more impressed by her talent. It seems like way too much of a disservice to Bening’s talent to lump Nic – or Karen – together with all the strong women she’s played (Julia, Deidre, Carolyn). Their strength doesn’t make them identical, and it’s strange – both women have trouble being emotive, but Annette decides to establish them by decidedly different character tics. Karen develops in uneven bursts goaded by her insecurities whereas Nic’s security becomes her crutch as she finds that it’s not as impenetrable as it seems. Even the manner in which they break is not identical, Karen for all her faux-coldness yearns for the ability to be completely emotive and when she cries it’s with complete surrender. Nic is uncomfortable with that loss of control, and even her tears exist as a sort of reluctant emotion. True, I do prefer her work as Nic (if only because the character is so much richer), but it’s a double helping of brilliance that I think is laudable. (Highlight: “So Blue” and Breakdown with Sofia)

I’ve always thought of Nicole in the same way that I think of Cate Blanchett – actors most discernable because of the emotion they put into their voice, but Becca is significant not because of the line readings but because of all the expressions that she has. She reacts to everything that happens on screen – her eye-rolls, her steely gazes, her silent scoffs – she’s never “off” and Nicole never loses sight of that always reacting, however subtly, to everything occurring around her. It’s difficult to play favourites and hold up someone as her best scene partner – she’s so go$od with them all. The understated tension opposite Aaron, the filial spats with Tammy, the brilliant chemistry with Wiest and her tentativeness opposite Teller is lovely to watch. She gives as much as she gets and though her career is so littered with goodies I can’t decide if it’s my favourite or not, its goodness is undeniable. (Highlight: Bowling Alley Birthday)

Every actor has precepts that work for them, and though Jules is nowhere near as morose as the prototypical Jules character her constant interest in pronounced facial expressions is the ultimate reason why I’m so impressed with her here. I hate judging her against Annette since the performances are ultimately so symbiotic and sometimes even in tandem with the other. They play well off each other, but more than Annette Julianne plays well off actual scenes. Because Nic is so controlled Annette isn’t always given the opportunity to respond immediately (facially) to situations – so Julianne must, and that sort of naked physicality is something she delivers with and because Jules and Nic are so affected by each other these expressions are most pronounced when Nic is at the forefront of the scene. Thus, when she’s actually presented with the opportunity to “lead” a scene – her twitchiness is manifested, it’s not necessarily a twitchiness borne of being discomfited but one of being disaccustomed. (Highlight: “Marriage is hard.”)

The role of Hypatia seems to be the sort of exemplary woman that seems perfect for Rachel Weisz. Weisz plays Hypatia with a consistent disregard for her personal appearance, as beautiful as she is – and there’s that subtle hint that perhaps that plays a role in her power over everyone – she never plays Hypatia as a “beautiful” woman. Moreover, she brings that sort of resonance to the dialogue where you’re moved to think that her every word is something seismic. Amenabar is fortunate that she plays the role so effectively, because it’s her devotion to the character that allows (with the slightest of physical inclinations) us to believe that things like ellipses are capable of being as astonishing as Hypatia believes. (Highlight: sketchy...each time she speaks, perhaps?)

FINALISTS: Halle Berry is tasked with a conventionally baity role of three persons in one in Frankie & Alice but at her best she’s always able to bring the right touch of compassion to her work that’s put to good use here; Patricia Clarkson is luminous in Cairo Time balancing Juliet's vague dissatisfaction with life against the wealth of experiences she experiences on holiday and always – ALWAYS – so entrancing even with the slightest of movements; Kerry Washington is all aglimmer (is that even a word?) in Night Catches Us. I’ve rarely seen her so mature, and it’s the sort of role that while fitting her perfectly isn’t too deliberate in its; Michelle Williams dives into the difficult persona she plays in Blue Valentine – ensuring that the tenets that comprise her character do not become murky as she develops, and moreover ascertaining that even when we don’t understand the “why” we understand the “how”.

     

SEMI-FINALISTS: the way that Kirsten Dunst lights up the screen whenever she appears in All Good Things make me even sadder about her absence from the screen. It’s more than her doing the best work in the film, her constant attention to detail with a character that’s quite vague is admirable; Dakota Fanning has always seemed much too mannered for me to take her seriously, but in The Runaways despite her occasional off-putting tics she’s so resolute in carving Cherry’s inclinations that she manages to give the best performance of her career – thus far; Greta Gerwig’s congenial way in Greenberg might be easy to ignore, which is unfortunate because she has a more difficult task than Stiller. She’s playing this affable woman who’s difficult to understand but not at all mysterious – even if her inclinations seem ridiculous and she does it all with aplomb and that cheery winsome nature to her that’s irresistible; Jennifer Lawrence must carry the entirety of Winter’s Bone, and Granik is lucky enough that she’s able to take that kind of weight on her shoulders , she's good at playing the tough as nails country girl, but she's just as capable of establishing the girlish innocence in Ree, too which is the real treat; there are some times when Carey Mulligan seems a little too literal in Never Let Me Go, though that’s as much the fault of the film itself. When the film is at its weakest in that final act, though, she provides the stability realising how important it is that the audience identifies with Cathy managing to produce a seemingly full character in the wake of what really is just nothingness; I’ll probably always prefer Natalie Portman in small doses, or better yet in specific modes. I’m still wowed by that phone call she makes to her mother Black Swan even if she impresses, but doesn’t wow me in other scenes. Most importantly, though, she’s thoroughly aware of how essential her inflections are to the plot and delivers on that even if I’m not completely sold on it at all times.

                   

In some ways Aronofksy’s latest reminds me of Avatar, although I was more fond of Cameron’s piece they both are analogous in the fact that they depend on the visual elements and not so much their stories (which aren’t necessarily subpar, just not as key as the optical). Visually, Black Swan is a perfect amalgamation of all things visual and the effects here coalesce beautifully with the cinematography and editing. Sometimes Aronofsky gets the urge to go a bit too pulpy (not always serving the story), but overall it’s a visual triumph. 

         

          

 

As dissatisfied as I was with some major elements of the latest instalment of Harry Potter, I was impressed with the visual work. Like Black Swan, the work here underscores the reality that best visual effects is not synonymous with most visual effects and though there are a number of holes to poke in the story, visually this instalment is as thrilling as any.

Visually, it avoids the most blatant of tricks you’d expect and oftentimes the visuals end up aiding the film where the story fails (the flashbacks scenes with Mal, for example – understated, but jarring). Obviously, the more obvious moments are fine – but the ability to tone down is what makes me most impressed with the work here.

        

        

Scott Pilgrim vs the World

I’d cry anarchy at the Academy’s ignoring of Scott Pilgrim vs the World in this category – but no members of the Academy are listening so I’ll refrain from indulging in yet another tirade, for the umpteenth time. Visuals are so essential to this story sometimes it seems as if the story is the visual or the visuals are the story – it’s all the same, really. It’s all impeccably interwoven, not subtle (it can’t afford to be) but fitting.

         

It’s evidence again of the technical work here being brilliant. The story can be impossibly obviously at times so the visuals don’t overdo. The atmosphere created is palpable and thick, it really is the sort of “visual” film that defines cinema at its most visceral and the way it so seamlessly coalesces with the photography makes me even more impressed.

    

FINALISTS: Agora is so intent on merging all its technical achievements (photography ties in with art direction which is established in the visuals) – the scope of the city created is almost peerless and though it doesn’t use CGI to much effect that doesn’t mean it’s any less visual; Let Me In; Nanny McPhee & the Big Bang come off as synthetic and very “magicky” – but in the realm of all that’s fantastical you sort of get that that’s necessary

         

SEMI-FINALIST: the visuals in Alice in Wonderland are loud and they’re obvious, but sometimes they’re not always serving the story. I don’t really grudge its Oscar nomination, though. Because, as officious as it is on occasion (oftentimes) there’s a meticulousness to its creation that’s laudable.

     

 

The scene that comes to mind immediately, is of course the storming of the temple. It’s absolute chaos and it’s photographed so intimately, just as Davus’ Christian epiphany is framed well. True, it’s a get a bit too obvious when the camera rises to view the world from a distance and there’s just that tinge of beautifully shots for the sake of beautiful shots – but I’ll forgive those occasional extraneous bits.

   

Regardless of the missteps Aronofsky may make I cannot deny the adeptness of the photography. Sometimes you get the feeling that he’s showing off on us, but the fact that he always manages to serve the story prevents me from holding any sort of grudge. In the same way that Agora and its orchestrated stampedes demand astute photography, the dance sequences require the same and we are not robbed of that tenet.

         

I’m still nonplussed as to why its Oscar citation here has caused such a ruckus since it’s still the first technical achievement that jumped out at me (score, costume and art direction included). It’s all part of the entire film’s manner of being paradoxically modern and traditional – simultaneously. The photography is an essential part of its entire philosophy and though sometimes it emerges as just a little too purposeful I’m wary of calling it a fault.

              

                       

              

Like many contemporary films, the camerawork is largely ignored but framing is of exceptional importance here. The revelation of the accident, Howie’s seduction bolstered by Barry White, that beautiful ending – all those pay heavy dues to the cinematography which is always subtle, always understated and lets the screenplay do its job. Proof that obvious garishness is not always the key to good photography. 

                  

                        

            

          

Shutter Island (Dante Feretti)

A bit like an obvious choice, no? Lord knows why it’s been virtually ignored. Even if DiCaprio has been playing in this register for a while, and even if the story is a bit pulpy that opening shot defines it all and it gets better from there. Sure, it’s not as subtle as the sets but – well – that’s the point. And extra points for every scene with Michelle Williams, just beautiful to watch

         

            

            

           

FINALISTS: I don’t know how many times I have (or how many more times I will) call The Ghost Writer sleek, but goddamn the photography is brilliant; Never Let Me Go is photographed so lushly – it’s even more purposeful than The King’s Speech (sometimes annoyingly so) but it’s essential for Romanek’s attempts in condensing the storyline into such a short running time; in all my appreciation for it I won’t be disingenuous enough to call Somewhere a technical marvel but photography is essential in developing that beautiful listlessness of the rich and famous; The Social Network

         

SEMI-FINALISTS: Animal Kingdom; Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows; True Grit; Ondine

  

 

One of the things I noted in my review was just how seamless everything in Animal Kingdom. There’s a gentle irony about the camerawork here, it’s so flawless that you can’t help but applaud it but in its flawlessness there’s a fluidity that might be easy to ignore – which is a shame.

        

        
        

            

The Ghost Writer (Tariq Anwar)

The editing does seem a little lustrous – but everything about The Ghost Writer seems to evoke that feeling of a sophisticated sheen. Polanski loves depending on the technical aspects and it’s the editing that is his biggest calling card in keeping the tone in The Ghost Writer that makes it such a top-notch exercise in thrills.

          

          

               

The Kids Are All Right (Jeffrey Werner)

 

I can’t say I’m surprised this one has gone unnoticed, but even more than Cholodenko’s direction and screenplay the editing in this film is a fabulous example of camerawork enhancing a film. I don’t know if it’s alacrity in trade, or just pure luck but Werner knows just when to cut to what and how to do it. He manages to capture those precise expressions just before they sour – that scene where Nic at the final dinner at Paul’s? The sort of editing that’ll never be recognised by the awards, but screw them. 

                      

Because Rabbit Hole depends so much on the transference of emotion and because there are only ninety minutes to play with the editing is especially important. Its montages don’t unfold as obvious cinematic tricks, and like the film there’s an easiness to it all that is – unfortunately – easy to ignore. When you think of guiding the pace of the story, and of giving emphasis, though – Klotz’s work is palpably good. 

            

             

      

It seems a bit ADD, just like its protagonist and that’s probably the point. The deposition scenes are such an obvious example of him getting a brilliant playing ground and he milks it for all it’s worth getting those precise shots, cuts that supplement Sorkin’s rapid screenplay. Sometimes his choices seem weird, but that’s because there’s SO much going on in this one, watch it multiple and you begin to realise just how seamless the scenes flow into each other.

           

       

FINALISTS: Agora; The King’s Speech; Let Me In; Scott Pilgrim vs the World

SEMI-FINALISTS: The Fighter; Somewhere

Blue Valentine is a film that’s explicit in its lack of specificity as it examines the ennui that comes with marriage. You may often hear divorced couples citing “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for the disintegration of their marriage. As far as grounds for divorce goes, it’s probably the vaguest and it’s from this same state of general ambiguity that Cianfrance roots the dissolution of the marriage in Blue Valentine on. Dean and Cindy are in a failing marriage and neither of them seem able to discern why. It depends on an atmosphere shrouded by the story that’s redolent of the twitchy awkwardness of Greenberg or the meandering apathy of Somewhere. Blue Valentine is uncomfortable and even gauche because that’s the situation that our protagonists are in and in that way Blue Valentine depends as much on its actors as much as it serves them up an almost impossible task.

I’ve never been a particularly big fan of Michelle Williams, since her Dawson’s Creek days she’s always had the tendency to personify the characters she plays with a harshness that seems unnecessarily harsh and in watching her play Cindy in the present it would seem as if she’s doing the same – she’s not, though. It’s a difficult task playing a character then and now when the “then” is so recent and the way that we go to the “now” are so vague. Williams tasks the task and delivers with aplomb, though, allowing the same potentially cute features of the younger Cindy to stagnate and become the tics that divide us from completely surrendering to her when she ages. It sound too easy – too easy – especially when you think of the cavalier manner that Gosling must play Dean in. To be honest, Cianfrance seems to intent on playing him up as a villain too often. Still, Gosling uses his natural intensity to create Dean as a bit of surprising entity. I find it impossible not to choose him in the battle of the spouses – not because his Dean is more sympathetic, but because he’s playing with his heart on his sleeves (as he should) something that doesn’t necessarily make him a better but marks how much he yields to his characters faults, fearlessly. It’s not really Williams fault that I can’t love her wholly.

I can’t love Blue Valentine wholly either, and it’s not because it’s a downer. Whereas I can accept the dwindling nature of Somewhere as indicative of Coppola’s overall point Blue Valentine makes its point but Cianfrance seems more interested in establishing how depressing the marriage has become and the flashback scenes work not because of a palpable interest in that portion of the narrative (as far as I can discern) but because Williams and Gosling are such troopers. Ultimately, Cianfrance succeeds because he at least shows some legitimate interest in his characters but at times there’s too stringent a feeling of dawdling which makes sense in the present day portions of the film, but robs the flashbacks of any chance to suggest a different alternative to the relationship. And if the relationship was so obviously doomed, I can’t help but wonder what the point of it all was.

        

And on to the writing accolades...

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

This is sort of like an ideal movie in that it really does begin with the screenplay, even though the writing never becomes an overpowering crutch. In fact, like so many of the achievements of Animal Kingdom it might be easy to miss just how great the screenplay is – or essential. The memorable characters are not as much about the brilliant performances as they are about the cohesiveness of plot and development coming from Michôd.
          
                       

Each authorial decision Baumbach makes, here, serve as palpable evidence of his interest in ensuring that his story moves forward. This is a difficult story to work with without making it too terse or stark and his interest in character (not just the main ones, or even the ones we see) is a significant reason as to why Greenberg ends up being a success – and such a good opportunity for the actors.

           

There’s an almost self-effacing easiness with which The Kids Are All Right unfolds, and the screenplay is an important part of that. Blumberg and Choledenko are both intent on keeping the narrative as uncluttered as possible, sometimes complex but never complicated and though it unfolds in simple spurts it’s never simplistic. When it comes to the scope of it all the screenplay is at the head.

         

I praised Seidler’s decisions in my original review, and after a second viewing I’m still impressed. Like The Kids Are All Right there’s a simple nature to the way the story unfolds which is never simplistic. This is the type of film where the characters often talk too much – and for too long, but even though The King’s Speech depends on its screenplay it’s not dialogue driven. True, dialogue driven writing works for some but Seidler  realises that it won’t here and instead goes for a naturalness that’s impressive.

Coppola seems much more aware and comfortable with the characters she carving than I’ve ever seen her. It’s not exactly minimalist (although it is low-key) and there’s nary a false moment as she gives us an almost voyeuristic look into this man’s life. The chance that the editing and photography team get to work with those smooth transitions depends on the organic development of plot here – courtesy of Coppola’s screenplay.

  

FINALIST: I sort of hate leaving Agora off the list, and it is a historical drama – not history, and sure there’s something vaguely humorous about crediting Hypatia with so much – but ignoring historical inaccuracies (which are neither here nor there, to be honest) Amenabar’s ability to turn even the most abstract of scientific principles into potentially riveting plotpoints is damned impressive; though I cannot wholeheartedly surrender my love to Blue Valentine it’s screenplay is a treasure worthy of effusive praise, not only for its obvious gutsiness but for the consistency of development which could have been easily waylaid for theatrics; Hamilton’s writing in Night Catches Us in beautifully devoid of agenda or pretentiousness – she’s more interested in her characters than any of those which is why the film manages to be as consistent despite a few issues.

      

SEMI-FINALISTS: Easy A is not as fresh as some of its biggest champions might say, but it’s aware of that and finds comfort in its comedy ancestors; in its final instalment Toy Story III manages to retain its charm and comedy all the while ensuring it delivers on the emotional poignancy necessary for the departure; The Fighter owes its accolades more to the direction than the writing, but at its strongest moments the focus on family ties and relationships is stunning if exasperating in the fact that there’s an even more excellent movie hidden underneath the very good one we get.

There’s sort of an irony as to Polanski’s writing and his direction – but he knows what he’s doing. He opts for a literal thriller-ish nature to his direction which means that the screenplay must be the opposite, and it is. It’s constantly subtly, and almost always unassuming despite its intelligence. That ends up being the quality that serves it best when it comes to that final dénouement where everything unravels so beautifully.

On the most obvious it is not the screenplay that’s responsible for all the cool things going on in Let Me In, and yet what Reeves creates on the page is necessary. It’s probably one of the barer screenplays of the year as it is – ideally – a bit of paradigm for the film itself and in that light the meticulousness of the entire exercise is commendable. I wouldn’t necessarily agree that less is more, but it’s an asset here.

It’s seamlessly adapted from the play it emerges as, perhaps, the most significant facet of this already well made film. Nicholas mentions in his review how we’re eased into every important situation, and that’s something important which can’t be overstressed. He’s careful to maintain a realness to the situation while managing to ensure that everything that happens has some reaction that maintains the realism and takes the story forward.

 
Scott Pilgrim vs the World has such a strident way to it so that it’s a bit difficult to single out a specific entity as its champion and in that light I’m unsure that I would champion its screenplay – and yet Wright’s adaptation is a significant as to why Scott Pilgrim manages to survive the journey from comic book to cinematic entity. It manages to be socially conscious without overemphasis on pop-culture fanaticism and it’s youthful without being pretentious. And, of course, it’s consistently hilarious – even when it succeeds with those singular moments of poignancy.

      

His droll dialogue, incidentally, ends up becoming a detriment to the praise he deserves since he’s doing more here than just providing witty lines. He fools you into thinking that he’s doing something especially newfangled on his own, when he’s just using old paradigms to create something classic and fresh at the same time. He deserves credit for never making the deposition scenes come off as retrospective as they could have been and ensuring that they are the foundation of the screenplay without making becoming pretentious.

FINALIST: How to Train Your Dragon is a whole lot of fun, but more than its hilarity it deserves credit for constantly ignoring the easier tricks and hooks that come with the territory and deciding to keep the best interest of its story – and characters – at the heart of it.

SEMI-FINALISTS: Winter's Bone, True Grit

         
Which screenplays impressed you most this past year?

I’ll soon get around to giving my nominees for best scene of the year – but it’s such a capricious task choosing the best in this category, so I had to make a list of also-rans that impressed me this past decade. Choosing favourite is a difficult thing, sometimes they don’t occur in your favourite movies and sometimes the weirdest moments in a film might impress me. It’s all really quite subjective, but before I get to the top ten finalists – here are fifteen great scenes that didn’t make it to the top of the list.

            

(I already compiled a list of best endings and best beginnings of 2010, so none of the scenes that appear here are from the bookends of their films. click on the links for reviews, where available)

Now that I think of it, it probably suggests inanity on my part to have Alice in Wonderland a list talking about best scenes and not have other much fêted films here. Nonetheless, my favourite scene in Burton’s latest is one that I’ve spoken of before. It’s notable for Helena Bonham Carter’s delicious macabre ways as she introduces Slade to her new protégé – Um. It’s a classic case of meaning being lost in translation, and for all its silliness it has a light funniness to it which other portions of the film could do with – and because Helena Bonham Carter is so brilliant, that makes this scene just a little bit more special.

My favourite moment for Natalie in Black Swan is that emotional phone call she makes to her mother early in the film, but it’s not the part of the film that stands out for me. As much as I was troubled by the potential nomination for Mila Kunis, Portman responds well to her in the film – even if incidentally. That moment where Nina begins to transform, as she returns home in fervour and her mother is so discomfited asking – “Where’s my sweet girl?”, and Nina responds, “She’s gone.” It seems to be a moment of Aronofsky doing too much, but it works. Hershey is Portman’s best scene partner, and for all of its obviousness that scenes work brilliantly.

The way that Blue Valentine is created it thrives on an undulating plot that’s not the typical rise and fall as we see one harrowing moment after another. In that way it’s difficult to single out actual scenes, but it’s hard not to be impressed by the confrontation that occurs when Dean visits Cindy at the hospital. It’s uncomfortable to watch these two people who’ve grown so far apart – both of them frustrated with their situations. And, Cianfrance never adjudges blame to either party so as they argue in that glass room we’re left watching the train wreck occur with empathy for both parties.

There are a number of moments in Easy A that hit just the right note, and I’m immediately moved to consider any scene where Stanley Tucci, Patricia Clarkson or Lisa Kudrow appear on screen. However, at the end of the day Easy A is about a star being born (i.e. Emma Stone) and it makes sense that the most lucid moment of comedy occurs because of her. That fateful party where she and her gay best friend get it on emerges as one of the funniest scenes of the year. Stone works wonderfully with Dan Byrd (so good in Cougar Town) and though the moment in itself is not refreshingly innovative it’s a perfect encapsulation of Easy A building itself on old comedic paradigms and achieving something good.

I think of The Fighter as the ensemble film that wasn’t. The ensemble work well together, but not as good as they could if they had more time to actually work together. So, that moment in the living room where we get all the important players – Alice, George, Micky, Dicky, the sisters – to discuss Micky’s future succeeds on so many levels. For me, Melissa Leo doesn’t exactly thrive in this register (though her “MTV Girl” line is funny). The scene is all Amy for me, but even more than anyone taking credit for being the best it’s brilliant watching them all play off each other – these are the scenes where Russell’s direction is most impressive.

 For Colored Girls tends to be so episodic at times I balk at the idea of choosing individual scenes to fête since everyone is trying hard. When it comes to delivery of the monologues, Loretta Devine with the striking musicality in her voice wins but the most arresting for me (including that harrowing death scene) occurs as the last act begins. Whoopi suffers a bit from a very stilted character, but I do think that her scenes with Thandie Newton (best in show) are brilliant and that moment where the two women meet to deliver their pieces – almost in counterpoint – is excellently done. Potently, theatrical and it’s the moment that best elucidates my belief that For Colored Girls is a musical film with lyrics and no melodies. The contrast between the two women is beautiful to watch, as is the scene itself.

I will continue to applaud Nolan’s vision in Inception even if I don’t really care for it, and on a technical level there a number of scenes to pick from. The thing is, even though Cotillard is playing Mal as memories of Cobb she’s still the one serving up the most significant emotional quotient, and that scene of hers as she loses control of the life she’s living – and ends it – remains as the strongest moment of the narrative. Emotional context is still not his strongpoint, but everything combines in that moment to make some beautiful and terrible to watch – and Marion Cotillard is remarkable, no?

I tend to be indecisive when considering if I perform Olivia Williams or Kim Cattrall in The Ghost Writer (the former is the only one being seriously, fêted). Still, even if I’m uncertain as to whom I prefer it’s difficult to deny the ability Williams has to hold ones attention. Every moment where she and McGregor take up the screen seem to be the film at its highest, but that specific conversation the two have by the fireplace. It seems so incidental, though Williams is carving her character long before we even know it’s necessary. And Polanski (beautifully lacking in any sort of pretentiousness directs it so subtly). It all adds to the greatness of The Ghost Writer.

Choledenko and Blumberg are never afraid to approach the obvious in their attempts to make The Kids Are All Right comedic and though the moment might seem banal I can’t resist that conversation where Jules and Nic confront Laser about his sexuality. There are a number of things I find significant about this scene – the most obvious of which is the fact that Moms are on completely different wavelengths to their children and of course Jules’ explanation of internal and external realisations of sexuality is a perfect setup for her liaison with Paul. And of course, everyone is acting so well. Julianne, so authentic in her laidback persona without ever being clichéd, Annette so ready to underscore her resentment for Clay and Hutcherson (this is probably his best scene) – confused and then affronted. I love his line reading of, “You thought I was gay?” And then the responses – “No! Of course not.” Hilarious.

It’s the oddest thing, The King’s Speech doesn’t seem like the type of film that’d improve on repeat viewings – but it is. There’s that specific scene when Lionel and Bertie end up having their inevitable spat and he turns up with the Queen in tow at Bertie’s house for an important lesson. There’s so much going on there that I appreciate. On the obvious of levels, it’s the perfect encapsulation of the relationship between the two men being the mainstay of the film and then there’s Bonham Carter’s perfectly played Queen who I end up gleaning so much from on repeat viewings. She’s no Constance Trentham when it comes to snobbery, but she’s never quite at ease in the colonial house and her meeting with Mrs. Logue is a perfect example of such, regardless of her inhibitions, though. She’s always the diplomat. It’s the sort of delicate humouring decorating (but not necessarily shrouding) more sensitive issues.

I’ll always bear just the slightest grudge against The King’s Speech for not having enough of Helena Bonham Carter in it, I still prefer the idea of his marriage to his friendship with Logue – but I digress. The mystery of that marriage, though, is never really addressed in the film. Seiberg, however, does a fine job of slipping a nice bit when Firth’s Bertie is at his lowest point. Helena has always struck me as the type of actor who works best when playing against someone else and her chemistry with Firth is palpable. The King’s Speech is so diverting in its lightness that the profundity of the title of King sort of sneaks up on you a bit so that when Bertie himself is faced with all the pressure it’s difficult not to be moved by him – and by the Queen’s coy way of deflecting it.

In its way Mother & Child is made up of very good moments, and very bad ones. Choosing one is a difficult, and Naomi’s elevator scene and Annette’s breakdown come to mind – but they all seem too slight for inclusion which makes me return to that first scene where Lucy and her husband meet the mother of their child to be. Epps seems unnecessarily harsh sometimes in her characterisation – but it’s a nice moment watching Washington’s Lucy deal with the dilemma of being interviewed for a child she wants so terribly. It’s one of the strongest points of her performance, and one of the film’s most eloquent.

Dividing Rabbit Hole into scenes is difficult because Lindsay-Abaire is going for an effortless transition from scene to scene. There are two Dianne Wiest scenes that emerge as brilliant – and the chemistry between her and Kidman is well done. The moment where she tells Becca about dealing with grief is beautifully done, but it’s the lighter moment where she tells her about her friend Mrs. Bailey that I always return to. Remember: Wiest is a notable comedienne – all her three Oscar nominations infer as much. It’s a monologue of sorts, and it’s her moment and it’s one of the ways that Rabbit Hole balances drama with humour so adeptly. The writing, Mitchell’s understated direction, Kidman’s reaction and Wiest’s perfect comedic timing all coalesce for a great moment.

I’ll admit, that for the first half of Scott Pilgrim vs the World my favourite parts are those with the ensemble – where Cera just blends in, but that first big party where we first meet Ramona succeeds because Cera is doing such good work here. Webber, Plaza, Pill all surround him but it’s Wright’s direction and that oafish charm of Cera that sells it – and that first meeting with Winstead – “Am I dreaming?” is a perfect example of the glorious ridiculousness of Scott Pilgrim vs the World.

With its root being the friendship ties between Eduardo and Mark that entire sequence where Zuckerberg’s lawyers uncover Eduardo’s “animal cruelty” is brilliantly played. It’s my favourite moment for Garfield, and it begins perfectly in the board room. Everyone is playing well – Rashida Jones is being her usual winsome self, and the actors playing the lawyers are on point and Fincher is shifting between periods so astutely all backed by Sorkin’s dialogue. And of course there’s that cinch where Eduardo reveals Mark cheating for his final exam, “Oops” – perfect.

            

I’ll return with my top ten favourite scenes some later in the week, but for now – which of these fifteen impress you most?