Black Hawk Down (2001)

 

Black Hawk Down is pretty unsparing in its depiction of the brutalities of war. There’s a lot of death and a lot of gore and a lot of blood in this movie, which was based on a particularly terrible day in Mogadishu in 1993. The American military attempts to capture and/or kill a warlord who’s decided to call himself the president during the Somali Civil War, and one bad, horrible thing after another happens. A helicopter crashes after being damaged in battle, another is shot down by a rocket grenade, a new soldier falls from a helicopter – it’s just a series of disasters. Troops are sent to rescue the survivors from the helicopter crashes, but they face some very well-organized Somalis, who keep them from reaching the target locations. The film features lots of young actors, many of them quite talented, but no one gets much screen time. Perhaps it’s a reminder not to become too attached to someone in a war zone like this. Josh Hartnett is billed first as newly-in-command Staff Sergeant Matt Eversmann, but his is just one of many stories we witness, however briefly. Eric Bana is an enigmatic sniper, and he’s always intriguing when he pops up the screen. Blink, though, and you might miss performances by Hugh Dancy, Ioan Gruffudd, Tom Hardy, Orlando Bloom, Ty Burrell, and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. The film, based on a true story, of course, seems to place the blame for the errors on bad leadership decisions. Sam Shepard plays Major General William F. Garrison, and he and the other leaders of the mission just don’t seem to want to listen to honest assessments of the situation; their decisions lead to a lot of dead and wounded in a single, disastrous day. There’s an old saying that all war films are anti-war films because if you truly and (somewhat) accurately portray what happens in wartime, viewers become more opposed to it. I’m not as familiar with the historical events surrounding the U.S. involvement in the Somali Civil War as I could or perhaps should be, and there has been some criticism of this film for its inaccuracies. (Why do people go to see fiction films expecting a history lesson?) Still, even if its accuracy is flawed, watching Black Hawk Down leaves the viewer wondering just how much the raid accomplished and if it was worth the cost in human lives. Director Ridley Scott and his crew deciding to place us in the midst of all of the death and destruction of wartime certainly seems to suggest that they think it wasn’t.

Oscar Wins: Best Film Editing and Best Sound

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Director (Ridley Scott) and Best Cinematography

Pearl Harbor (2001)

 

Pearl Harbor attempts to use the formula that made Titanic successful: use a romantic story as a means to depict a major historical event. Or perhaps it’s using a major historical event to depict a romantic story? Ben Affleck and Josh Harnett play childhood friends who both become pilots in advance of the attack on Pearl Harbor, the event that precipitated the formal entry of the United States into World War II. Affleck’s Rafe McCawley (as Hollywood a name as Tab Hunter or Rock Hudson) falls in love with a nurse during his induction process, and their romance seems ideal (to the point of being almost hopelessly chaste) until he gets the chance to go to England to fight against the Germans as part of the Royal Air Force. When he’s lost and believed killed in action, Kate Beckinsale’s Evelyn Johnson grieves until she and Hartnett’s Danny Walker (even his name lacks the zing of his good friend’s) start to fall in love with each other. They’ve wound up in Hawaii together, and their friends encourage the romance as a way to begin healing after Rafe’s supposed death. Of course, there’s only one problem: Rafe isn’t dead. (Don’t worry; this isn’t the worst of spoilers, and it seems pretty obvious what’s going to happen when Rafe is sent away to England in the first place.) When he surprises Evelyn and Danny by his arrival in Pearl Harbor, all of the cliched emotions are on display. The romantic triangle plot, frankly, is a bit of a bore, and nothing particularly surprising happens as a result of Rafe’s return. Rafe and Danny fight—a lot—and might have started to sort out what to do but… the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor the next morning after Rafe’s return. They have to put their personal struggles aside in order to begin a counterattack because, you know, priorities…. The battle sequence begins about halfway through the film, which is a butt-numbing three hours long, and the war imagery really changes the tenor of the action. Director Michael Bay is justifiably famous for his emphasis on a fast pace and quick editing, and Pearl Harbor is no exception. It can be tough to keep track of who’s who at times, given that there are so many supporting characters who are fellow pilots and/or nurses and/or hangers-on. Bay does provide a few odd cinematic flourishes, such as when the image goes out of focus in an attempt to replicate how disoriented the characters are immediately after an air attack. However, he does the unthinkable by having his actors express “deep” emotions in slow motion. You know, like when Olivia de Havilland yells out “Nooooooo” in slow motion while turning away from seeing children attacked by killer bees in The Swarm (1978). Pearl Harbor doesn’t make effective use of some of the actors playing real people. For example, Cuba Gooding Jr. in the role of Dorie Miller gets only brief moments to show what’s behind the person who was one of the great heroes of the attack on Pearl Harbor, stationing himself behind an anti-aircraft gun and firing on the Japanese. And Alec Baldwin plays Col. Jimmy Doolittle, another true war hero, with an sardonic bit of sarcasm. The less said about Jon Voight’s FDR, the better. The ending is a truly Hollywood copout with its “resolution” of the love triangle. And the film doesn’t fully address that Affleck’s Rafe seems to love Hartnett’s Danny as much as he loves Kate’s Evelyn. Watch Affleck and Hartnett’s final scene together, and then try to convince any reasonable viewer that the two men aren’t in love. There’s more than a touch of the homoerotic among their group of pilots, too. One more thought about Pearl Harbor, one that I’ve stated elsewhere about other movies: Don’t count on a fiction film to be historically accurate. This movie got a lot of criticism for playing a bit fast and loose with historical details; there are websites devoted to such stuff. If you want a history lesson, read a book or watch a documentary.

Oscar Win: Best Sound Editing

Other Nominations: Best Original Song (“There You’ll Be”), Best Sound, and Best Visual Effects

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, a nominee for Best Picture of 2001, was the first in a trilogy of films adapted from the novels by J.R.R. Tolkien about hobbits, elves, dwarfs, and men and their various alliances. It's an exciting start to a series of movies that challenge viewers with their epic scope and interlaced plots. I'll readily admit that I have never read the books on which this and the other two films are based. I did read The Hobbit when I was a teenager because it was given to me by an aunt, but I chose to read lots of other books besides the rest of the Tolkien ones. I say that in order to point out that I cannot vouch for the fidelity with which director Peter Jackson and his collaborators have tackled the material. I can only state that he has made an engrossing, thrilling trio of films, and that The Fellowship of the Ring does an excellent job of setting up the action for the remaining two films.

I can't imagine providing a concise summary of what happens in this film, so I'll try to stick to just some of the main themes and moments. The focus, of course, is on a ring, a remarkable piece of jewelry since it gives you control over a set of rings that had been forged for elves, dwarfs, and men. In other words, it gives you total power. Naturally, you want such a ring either to be destroyed or to be in the hands of someone who can be trusted. Unfortunately, it first belonged to Sauron, the Dark Lord, and he's used it for evil purposes. Through a strange series of events, it has wound up in the hands of a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins (Ian Holm), and he's ready to retire from the adventures he's had and write a book. He entrusts the ring to his nephew Frodo (Elijah Wood), who inevitably faces the task of finding a safe place for the ring.

Through the intervention of a wizard, Gandalf (the remarkable Ian McKellan), Frodo sets off on an adventure that will take him through much of Middle Earth, the mythical land described in the Tolkien books. He has company on his journey, first from three other hobbits: Samwise (Sean Astin), Pippin (Billy Boyd), and Merry (Dominic Monaghan). Hobbits are, by nature, peaceful folk who like to eat and drink and smoke; they are unaccustomed to having adventures, so this band of four almost immediately gets into difficulties. For instance, there's a troop of scary creatures called the Nazgul after them in order to kill Frodo and take custody of the ring for Sauron, who's making a comeback now that the ring has been rediscovered. So far, he's only a large eye, but with possession of the ring, he'll apparently be reconstituted as his old evil self.

There's also an evil wizard, Gandalf's counterpart, called Saruman (Christopher Lee) who is in league with Sauron. It's obvious that the hobbits are going to need assistance if they are going to make it past all of these obstacles and get to Rivendell, the home of the fairies. Their first guide is Stryder (Viggo Mortensen), a human who's later revealed to be Aragorn, the heir to the kingdom of Gondor, but we can't get to that just yet. After finally making it to Rivendell, Frodo listens as a meeting of elves, dwarfs, and men devolves into a debate as to how to handle the powerful ring he's brought there. After it's decided that it should be destroyed by throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom, another argument ensues as to who should be entrusted to carry the ring. After hearing enough of the bickering, Frodo says he will do it. The other hobbits volunteer to travel with him, as do Legolas (Orlando Bloom), an elf with a talent for using a bow; Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), a dwarf with a temper and a strong ax; Aragorn, of course; and another human named Boromir (Sean Bean), who also has a claim to the throne of Gondor. Gandalf will also join them, completing what Elrond (Hugo Weaving), the king of the fairies, dubs the Fellowship of the Ring.

I have had to gloss over a great deal of information, of course, such as Aragorn's romance with one of the elves, a beauty named Arwen (Liv Tyler). And I've had to skip over the wizards battle between Gandalf and Saruman; it's quite a bloody fight, though. There's also the spectacular sequence involving a giant monster made of fire (the belroc?) that lives in the mines once run by the dwarfs and that seems to have killed Gandalf in their fight together. The remaining band of the Fellowship also encounter Galadriel (Cate Blanchett), an elf witch who shows Frodo the future that might occur if he fails in his quest. It involves the destruction of his homeland, the shire where the hobbits live. It's that glimpse of the future that seemingly convinces Frodo that he must take on the burden alone, and he leaves just before a battle with some vicious looking creatures called uruks or orcs or something like that. I never quite figured out the difference.

And, to be honest, unless you're a huge fan of the books, I think at some point you give up caring about all of the details and just get swept up in the film. You'd have to keep a scorecard to remember everyone who might be important. And the different relationships between the various residents of Middle Earth are just too complex to discern most of the time. Once you give up worrying about that stuff, you can then enjoy watching the Fellowship encounter the various obstacles along the way to achieving Frodo's goal. You'd have to expect that a battle between good and evil for the possession of an object like the ring will not be handled quickly or simply. There are numerous confrontations, and each one is depicted with great intensity. The film's creators have managed to cram a lot into the film even if it does clock in at more than three hours long.

I'd like to point out the beauty of the landscape through which Frodo and his friends travel. The film was shot in New Zealand, and Jackson has made effective use of the mountains and swamps and forests and rivers and green expanses of land here. Each area has a distinct "look" as well. For example, Rivendell is bathed in light, casting a glow on everyone there. When making the trek through the mountains, by comparison, the Fellowship encounters mostly darkness, almost too dark to see. When they are battling the uruks in the forest near the end of the film, Aragon and the others are presented in naturalistic light. It's clever cinematography throughout the film.

I haven't yet discussed the image that lingers with you after watching the first film in the trilogy, but it's just how much power that the ring has. When Frodo accidentally slips it on his finger, he becomes invisible. However, he's still able to see everything around him in a sort of blurry way. It brings into focus the evil creatures like the Nazgul, though, making them easier to see. And the ring has a curious appeal to almost everyone who encounters it. Gandalf is afraid of the ring, perhaps sensing its power over its wearer. Boromir covets the ring, as does Galadriel. Frodo has gotten an early glimpse of just how hypnotic the ring is when his uncle Bilbo has become almost a snarling demon when he's refused a chance to touch the ring again. It comes as little surprise when, late in the film, Frodo says, "I wish the ring had never come to me." It is quite a burden to carry.

I'm sure most people don't go to a movie like this for the acting. You're meant to be caught up in the technical achievements of the film, and it would be hard not to be impressed by what Jackson and his crew have accomplished. They've created places and creatures in a seamless way that makes you feel as if this world were truly real. However, thanks to performances like McKellan's and Mortensen's and Wood's, you are also able to care about the characters and desire that they complete this arduous task before them. McKellan was the only member of the cast ever to be nominated for an acting Oscar, and it was for The Fellowship of the Ring. He lost, sadly, but he brings such a sense of humor and a few moments of incredible power to his role that you wish he had more screen time. I also admire what Mortensen and Wood (and the others) do here, but they are all allowed to shine even more in the subsequent films in the series.

Moulin Rouge! (2001)

An exclamation point can make all the difference. Some movies are so audacious that they divide an audience. Some people love it while others hate it. Such was the reaction of the crowd when I saw Moulin Rouge!, a surprise nominee for Best Picture of 2001, at the Showcase Theater on La Brea Avenue. I, of course, loved that director Baz Luhrmann and the cast were taking movie musicals into wilder, uncharted territory. Partner At The Time, however, hated it, thinking it was overwrought and gaudy and tacky. Perhaps that's what I loved about it, to be honest.

Compared to the 1952 movie with the same title (but no exclamation point), Moulin Rouge! focuses not on the life of the artist Toulouse-Lautrec (played here by John Leguizamo). No, the 2001 version instead concentrates upon the love affair between a struggling young writer from London, Christian (Ewan McGregor), and the star of the nightclub stage show, the "dazzling diamond" Satine (Nicole Kidman). She mistakes Christian for a wealthy duke (Richard Roxburgh) and attempts to seduce him in order to guarantee money for a new musical production called, with no seeming trace of irony, Spectacular Spectacular. When she finds out that Christian is really a penniless artist, she tries to get rid of him, but he has already made her fall in love with him by writing a poem--a song, really--on the spot. The poem is actually the lyrics to Elton John's "Your Song," and as sung by McGregor with open voice, it's little wonder Satine is smitten.

However, you can't put on a show unless you have money, and Harold Zidler (Jim Broadbent), as the owner of the Moulin Rouge, forces Satine to begin a relationship with the Duke. He wants the show to go on, regardless of what she must do to secure the Duke's attention. She keeps the Duke at bay for as long as possible while carrying on a secret relationship with Christian. The Duke, being a hysterically jealous man, discovers the true nature of the "rehearsals" Satine and Christian have been conducting, and he demands an ending to the musical-within-the-musical-movie that gives the character that is his surrogate control over the courtesan who stands in for Satine.

I've not yet mentioned the one little problem that complicates the love story even more. Satine has tuberculosis and will not live for much longer. She may not even survive to the opening night of Spectacular Spectacular. Zidler knows this, but he doesn't tell her until it is almost too late. He figures that the show must take precedence over her relationship with Christian; she just needs to make the Duke happy so that the money is secure. That makes him a pretty heartless pimp, to be honest. Neither Christian nor the Duke are aware of her condition, so the attempts by one of the Duke's henchmen to kill Christian backstage on opening night take on a greater poignancy. Even though the lovers escape these dangers, they can have no hope for a future given Satine's condition.

The film begins and ends with a red velvet curtain. I think it's supposed to call attention to the film itself as a "performance" rather than a representation of real life. There are numerous references to the fact that the film is not realistic in nature, not the least of which are the many incongruous choices of songs that the characters sing. The so-called Elephant Love Medley where Christian woos Satine includes, just as a small sample, U2's "In the Name of Love," Thelma Houston's "Don't Leave Me This Way," Paul McCartney's "Silly Love Songs," and Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You," as well as a generous portion of David Bowie's "Heroes." In addition, Satine continually talks about being a "real actress," a goal she hopes to achieve with the new production Christian will write for her and the Duke will bankroll. It's almost as if Kidman herself is making a bit to be considered a "real actress" with this role, given how much of a departure it was from her usual choices.

I have so many favorite moments in this film. Aside from the Elephant Love Medley, topping the list might be the wildest version of "Like a Virgin" committed to film, and that includes the performance Madonna gave of the song on the Video Music Awards. Broadbent's Zidler dons a tablecloth to act the part of Satine in order to persuade the Duke to give her more time to submit to his advances. While cute, young male dancers surround them in a whirl of activity, Zidler and the Duke act out a bizarre seduction sequence, ending with the Duke in full vampiric pose atop Zidler. It has to be one of the gayest production numbers in film history, and I mean that in the best possible way.

Close behind would be the secret love song that Christian writes for Satine as a way to confess her love for him without the Duke's knowledge. It's fully performed in a large-scale Bollywood-style number near the film's end, and in addition to being one of the few original songs in the movie, it earns our attention by expressing some heartfelt sentiments between two characters in whose lives we have become invested. The song, entitled "Come What May," was not nominated for an Oscar itself because it was written for Luhrmann's earlier Romeo + Juliet. It wasn't ever used in the 1996 film nor have I heard of it being recorded before the release of Moulin Rouge!, so it seems silly to me that Academy rules disqualified it from consideration.

I can't neglect mentioning the version of the Police's "Roxanne" by the narcoleptic Argentinian (Jasek Koman). Yes, you read that correctly. Performed ostensibly as a tango and intercut with scenes of the attempted rape of Satine by the Duke, it's not easily forgotten. The dancer who seems to be the object of the Argentinian's rage dances with several male partners, but none are quite as aggressive as the Argentinian himself when he gets his hands on her. I can't really describe why I am spellbound by this sequence; you have to see it to believe it. Perhaps it's the way that this song, like so many of the other popular hits that have been remade here, are recontextualized to fit the plotline. You can't quite listen to the Police's version without simultaneously considering the one in Moulin Rouge!, and that's true for many of the numbers included in the film.

Much of the film, aside from the framing device of Christian writing the story of his relationship with Satine, is set in 1899. To recreate the area of Paris known as Montmartre during that time period, the film makers chose to use CGI most of the time rather than actual sets. It's a gutsy move that allows them to manipulate the setting more easily. For instance, Christian can just step out of his building and be inside the elephant-shaped dwelling in which Satine lives, and they can both go to the roof of her elephant and be walking through clouds while singing. It's as simple as that.

Admittedly, the movie does have its weak points. Not everyone is a talented singer, but that's to be expected when you have performers better known for acting than singing. The central repeated theme of the film--"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return"--is little more than a cliche. And, outside of one or two production numbers, the film never does very much with the motto of the bohemians who populate the film and surround Christian: "Freedom. Beauty. Truth. Love." Still, I think this movie was a deserving nominee for 2001.


I loved Kidman's performance here. She is, at different times, funny and tragic and sexy and delicate. I don't often think of her as a warm presence in films, but her Satine is one of the best performances she's ever given. And I love how she is often bathed in a blue light that accentuates the paleness of her skin, which is only enhanced visually by the redness of her hair and of her lipstick. McGregor makes a charming male lead, and even though I am sometimes distracted by how wide he opens his mouth to sing, I still think he's perhaps the strongest singer of the cast. I hate to use the word "campy" to describe the performances of actors like Broadbent and Leguizamo and Roxburgh because I think the word is overused and misunderstood, but they are all so good at going over-the-top with these parts that it's really the best word to describe them.

Personally, I was quite pleased that Moulin Rouge! was nominated for Best Picture. It wasn't a conventional choice, by any means, and the film certainly has its detractors. Most of the people who didn't like the film, I suspect, didn't enjoy the film makers' obvious lack of desire to follow more conventional storytelling techniques. Those of us who loved the movie tend to love it for just that very reason. The next year, a musical would win the Oscar for Best Picture for the first time since 1968's Oliver! (another exclamation point, eh?). That film, Chicago, is often given undue credit for reviving the musical as a film genre. However, Moulin Rouge! came first and rightfully deserves respect for being the movie that got people talking about musicals as an art form again.

In the Bedroom (2001)

In the Bedroom, nominated for Best Picture of 2001, was the feature film debut of director Todd Field, who had previously devoted much of his movie career to acting. Given Field's background, it's easy to see why In the Bedroom became such an actor's showcase, a trend he continued with his second feature, the underrated Little Children. Each performance in his first film is top-notch. The actors allow you to sense what emotions are driving their characters, and even though you can't go wrong with people like Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson as your leads, Field has directed some career-best performances from almost everyone in the cast.

Nick Stahl's Frank Fowler is a college student who is home in Camden, Massachusetts, for the summer, and he's started up a relationship with Natalie Strout (played by Marisa Tomei). She's older, separated (not divorced) from her husband, and parenting two sons. Unsurprisingly, Frank's parents are concerned about where the relationship is going. Wilkinson's Matt Fowler seems reassured when his son tells him that it's a "summer thing." However, his mother Ruth (Spacek) retains a bit of suspicion throughout the summer even if she is very open and welcoming in public.

Natalie's abusive husband, Richard (played by William Mapother), wants her back and makes his intentions eerily clear to her, often by entering her home to wait for her return. As the son of the owner of the local cannery, Richard has some clout of his own that he uses when he gets into trouble, which is often. For example, he beats up Frank when the young man attempts to shield Natalie from her husband's influence. Despite an attempt by Ruth to convince her son to end the relationship, Frank feels obligated to protect Natalie and her sons from Richard's violence. At one point, after destroying her house, Richard gets a gun and comes back to shoot and kill Frank. (As an aside, I thought it was an interesting choice on the part of Field and his editor not to show the reactions of Frank's parents to the news of his murder. We get a simple fade to black in each case--in fact, that's the transition used most often throughout the film.)

What follows in the film is a series of scenes about the frustrations of the slow nature of the criminal justice system and the family's reactions to the delays in seeing justice meted out. Richard is, of course, released on bail, and the trial date keeps getting pushed back again and again. Richard then claims that there was a struggle during the shooting in an attempt to get the charges reduced to manslaughter. It's perhaps the frustration over these stalling tactics and behind-the-scenes courtroom machinations that opens the fissures in the Fowlers' marriage. They grow distant, rarely talking to each other about their son or their work or even any significant aspect of their daily lives. When they do finally confront each other, the fight is an emotionally painful one as each accuses the other of being responsible for Frank's death. Matt accuses Ruth of being too controlling; she blames Matt for always allowing Frank to get his way.

The film works best for me, though, in some of the smallest and quietest of moments. After his son's murder, Matt enters the boy's room and begins touching the various objects there. He breaks down in tears. When Ruth sees Richard's reflection in a window, the conflicting feelings of anger and panic are evident on her face. Matt and his friend Willis (William Wise) have some very emotional conversations in a small diner. Even deciding what to order seems to have implications beyond the simple words that are being spoken. These quieter moments also evoke the day-to-day life of a community. There are scenes of a ballgame that reminded me of watching softball and baseball games when I was a kid, and the singing by the girls Ruth has been coaching all summer is quite a delicate, special moment in the film.

I suspect the most disturbing part of the film is just how quietly the scenes play out at the movie's end involving Matt's kidnapping Richard at gunpoint. A sense of calm pervades what would be handled in far more graphic and overly emotional fashion in a typical Hollywood film. Matt is really very matter-of-fact about his reasons for wanting to kill Richard. The trial would be too emotional for someone like Ruth, and she keeps running into her son's killer in town. He takes Richard back to the younger man's place to pack some clothes, telling Richard that he must leave town. However, Willis and Matt have planned all of the details of Richard's death, including the cover story that he has left town rather than face a trial. The drive back home afterwards, through an empty town early in the morning, is one of those moments I'd like to call disquieting if it weren't for its actual quiet nature. It's almost as unsettling as Ruth asking Matt, "Did you do it?" upon his return.

I think this film has, under the surface, some issues with the class structure that it is trying to address. The Fowlers are all professionals or soon-to-be professionals. Matt is a doctor, Ruth teaches music, and Frank seems headed to a career in architecture. Occasionally, Frank and Matt like to get their hands dirty by working with the lobster fishermen, but that's truly a sideline for them. When Frank talks about dropping out of school or delaying it for a year, both of his parents chastise him, as does Natalie. I think he almost feels like he is rescuing her from her working-class existence or that he doesn't want to buy into his family's upper middle-class belief system if Natalie represents the "real world." She works in a small convenience store, one that both Matt and Ruth go to at different times in the film. To be honest, it's little surprise to me that Spacek's Ruth would slap Tomei's Natalie when the younger woman tries to apologize. Had Natalie been of a higher socio-economic class, I suspect that Ruth would have instead attempted to provide comfort.

Spacek and Wilkinson are both excellent. Spacek has to be one of the most reliable actors working in the movies. She can play the full range of emotions, and Ruth's fight with Matt is a powerful, surprising moment of anger for her character. Wilkinson, showing no trace of his native English accent, provides a nice contrast to Spacek's acting style. He is more introspective and less flashy, perhaps, but definitely her equal in all ways. Tomei, still best known for shockingly winning Best Supporting Actress for My Cousin Vinny, redeems her reputation here. I think she invests the character of Natalie with a graceful sense of tenderness and a keen awareness of the frightening nature of some of her decisions in life. As good as Mapother is, I'm starting to wonder if he could ever play any role that doesn't require him to be menacing. Is it his looks that throw off casting agents and make him into the heavy each time? Even though he's only present for the first third of the film or so, Stahl too manages to make an impression. He's portraying an admirable if naive young man, and you can feel the freedom that someone his age is beginning to experience (even if his choices at times are destined for disaster). Field has made a complex, emotional film, and it's little surprise that Spacek, Wilkinson, and Tomei all received acting nominations.

Gosford Park (2001)

Gosford Park was the last film by Robert Altman to be nominated for Best Picture. A nominee in 2001, it features many of the traits of Altman's best films: a huge cast, lots of overlapping plots, and an overarching plot that ties everything (seemingly, allegedly) together. It's a great deal of fun to watch some of the best actors in Great Britain in these parts. How can you go wrong when you have Maggie Smith, Helen Mirren, Clive Owen, Michael Gambon, Kristin Scott Thomas, Jeremy Northam, Eileen Atkins, Alan Bates, Derek Jacobi, Emily Watson, the list goes on. One of my favorites in this film is Stephen Fry, who plays perhaps the most inept inspector ever in the history of filmic detective work. The only misstep, sadly, is the use of Ryan Phillippe as an American actor trying to pass himself off as a Scottish butler. He just doesn't seem up to the task when placed in company such as this.

The film itself is very stylish. It's set during a weekend hunting party at a country house in England. All of the guests are wealthy (more or less), but all of them also have a grudge against the man who has invited them all to stay at his home. When he is found dead in his study, about halfway through the film, it changes from being a comedy of manners into a mystery. The transition is a bit awkward from my perspective, and I recall not enjoying it as much as everyone else did when it first played in theaters because it seemed like two movies had been sutured together somewhat haphazardly. (I also couldn't hear the dialogue clearly, a common problem in Altman films--and, yes, I know that is one of his signature marks. That doesn't make it any easier to hear it.) Each time I have seen it subsequently, I have eased up a bit on my initial assessment. I still don't think it's one of Altman's best, but it's certainly better than most of the films being made these days.

The parts of the film that I like the best are those involving the servants. They seem more real to me than the wealthy people. It's all very Upstairs, Downstairs, isn't it? But the servants have more honest moments of emotion than the guests at the party do. One of the best scenes is when the servants huddle around the various doors leading into one of the parlors. Ivor Novello, the great film star of the 1920s and 30s, is playing the piano and singing inside. The wealthy are best represented in this scene by Maggie Smith's Countess, who just seems annoyed that all of the noise is disrupting the card playing. The servants, however, are enraptured. They close their eyes and move in time with the music. Some even break into dance. It's one of those moments that reveals the true joy that popular entertainment can provide. They are the ones who are making Novello famous. It's quite a commentary from Altman on who the audience for films (and popular music) might be: the working classes with their need for escape now and then, not the stuffy upper classes who feel that the mass media are beneath them.

I must admit, though, that despite all of the pleasures found in watching the great performances by those in the roles of servants and butlers and maids and cooks, I love watching Smith as Countess Trentham. She's always been one of my favorite actresses, and I don't think she has ever been bad in any movie she's in. You know that even seeing her in a small role, like the one in the Harry Potter movies, will likely provide you with a chance to smile at the skill with which she performs. Here she's a woman who has always lived a life of leisure, a lifestyle that might have ended had not her host died before executing his plans to reduce the amount of her "allowance." Smith overpowers the rest of the cast in every scene she's in. And only she can deliver a simple line like "Difficult colour...green" and make you understand just what a cutting remark it is. I have sometimes wondered if they write dialogue with people like Maggie Smith in mind, and that's why she (and others like her) always gets such great lines. Or perhaps she just has an incomparable quality that makes her every line great, no matter how it was written to be delivered.