Ice Station Zebra (1968)

 

Ice Station Zebra is a spy thriller rather badly disguised as a rescue mission. An American submarine, commanded by Rock Hudson’s James Ferraday, picks up a mysterious British spy, Patrick McGoohan’s David Jones (not the one from the Monkees or David Bowie, sadly) to locate a group of British scientists at a weather station on the ice at the North Pole. The submarine has the odd name of the USS Tigerfish – go figure. The Americans also have to take on Jim Brown’s Capt. Leslie Anders, a tough Army guy who assumes control of the ship and inexplicably starts having everyone try to reassemble guns with their eyes closed, and Ernest Borgnine’s Boris Vaslov, a Russian defector who seems to be “friends” with the rather oily Jones. Ferraday doesn’t get any information on why all of these strangers are aboard his submarine; he’s just under orders to take them to Ice Station Zebra. Everyone seems to know that the Russians are also on their way because, as we very, very slowly discover, there’s some weird but valuable spy satellite recording that the Americans made but the British took and now the Russians want—or something like that. Frankly, it’s not quite intriguing enough to keep up with the specifics. We just spend a lot of screen time listening to a lot of back-and-forth accusations between the different factions on the sub before we get to the climactic moments. By the time everyone makes it to the North Pole, the base has already been destroyed and many of the people stranded there are either badly injured or dead. When one of the survivors states, more than two hours into the plot, “You took so long to get here,” I could honestly understand how he felt. This is a movie that moves – pardon the pun, but pun intended – at a glacial pace. It’s very talky as well, even when there’s a standoff between the Russians and the Americans, and there’s lots of guns involved. I would have expected much more shooting than yapping at a moment like that. The film’s cinematography is beautiful, though, especially the shots of the submarine under the ice, and the special effects are particularly effective when one of the torpedo hatches blows open and floods the submarine. You can understand why the film was nominated in those two categories. However, the special effects are nowhere near comparable to those of 2001: A Space Odyssey, the other nominee in that category, and the pacing for the entire film is just too slow.

Oscar Nominations: Best Cinematography and Best Special Visual Effects

The Circus (1927-28)

Charlie Chaplin’s The Circus was nominated for three awards in the first year of the Oscars, making Chaplin the first person to be nominated for multiple honors in a single year. However, he was removed from the nominee lists in all categories and was presented a Special Award instead. In the words of the Academy at the time, “The Academy Board of Judges on merit awards for individual achievements in motion picture arts during the year ending August 1, 1928, unanimously decided that your name should be removed from the competitive classes, and that a special first award be conferred upon you for writing, acting, directing and producing The Circus. The collective accomplishments thus displayed place you in a class by yourself.” Despite creating some of the true masterpieces of the silent and early sound era, Chaplin would not receive another Academy Award until 1971, another honorary award, this time for his lifetime contributions. The Circus is a charming example of Chaplin’s skill at moviemaking. It’s a somewhat thin plot, to be sure, since it’s mostly about the Tramp trying to succeed as a circus performer and falling in love with the beautiful daughter of the circus owner (she also rides a horse in the show). What makes this film stand out are the various “gags” that Chaplin and the others perform. The Tramp is hilariously funny, but only when he doesn’t try to be funny or when he doesn’t know he’s being funny. He interrupts several circus acts to riotously hilarious impact, and the crowd loves him more than anything else in the show. The owner (also the ringmaster) hires him and tries to make him conform to the established skits like the William Tell gag or the barbershop gag. However, the Tramp is so bad at doing what he's told that it becomes an even funnier act when, for example, he replaces the apple on his head with a half-eaten banana. He also winds up in a cage with a sleepy lion at one point and manages to get a lot of laughs out of the danger he faces. The Circus isn’t just about the humorous bits, though. It also mines the pathos of the characters such as the Tramp and Merna, the horse rider, as he realizes that she loves someone else and works to help the couple get married. We also get a couple of great camera tricks, such as a double exposure where we watch the Tramp imagine himself kicking Rex, the object of Merna’s affections. And the centerpiece of the film is probably a tightrope sequence where the Tramp is besieged by monkeys after losing the harness that was keeping him upright so high above the circus floor. The ending – with its famous iris in – finds the Tramp alone in the abandoned field where the circus tent had been housed. He’s by himself again. The show, as the saying goes, must go on, and it has to do so without him. Criterion released a beautiful version of The Circus a couple of years ago, and it is filled with extras like deleted scenes and interviews that place the film within its historical and personal context.

Oscar Win: Honorary Award for Chaplin’s writing, directing, acting, and producing

Oscar Nominations: Best Directing of a Comedy Picture (Charles Chaplin), Best Actor (Charles Chaplin), and Best Original Story