Gandhi (1982)

Gandhi was the somewhat controversial winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1982. It beat out the public favorite, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and has been often cited as an example of how the Academy gets it wrong sometimes. I agree with the public that E.T. would have been a better choice for Best Picture, but watching Gandhi again here, I do think that second place or first alternate or runner-up is certainly appropriate. This is one of the best film biographies ever made, and once you allow yourself to adjust to its pacing, it's also one of the most powerful films in terms of its political agenda.

The story is, of course, the life of Mohandas Gandhi, a lawyer who devoted much of his life to ridding his country of British rule. The film begins and ends with Gandhi's assassination, so the rest of the film is a flashback to a sequence of major events that formed his political consciousness. That portion of the movie begins in South Africa, where Gandhi attempts to secure the rights of Indian nationals who were brought or came to Africa to work. He faces resistance there, just as he would time and time again in his home country. Through a series of episodes, we see how Gandhi and other leaders of various segments of the Indian population tried to hammer away at the British and their attempts to silence opposition.

I admired the performance of Ben Kingsley in the title role immensely. He does capture a sense of the patience and generosity of spirit that Gandhi had, yet he also allows us to see some of the leader's blind spots, particularly the way that his ego could sometimes interfere with the good work that he was doing. Kingsley gets some of the greatest dialogue, of course, because he gets to speak Gandhi's own words here.

The cast is enormous. Thousands of people are used in various scenes here, particularly for the large public demonstrations that often accompanied Gandhi's speeches. You have to admire director Richard Attenborough's gift for working with such crowds. And it seems that almost every actor working in the movies makes a cameo appearance here, from some great British actors like John Gielgud and John Mills to Americans like Martin Sheen and even Candice Bergen as Margaret Bourke-White. The real standouts, though, are the actors who portray the other Indian resistance leaders: Saeed Jeffrey, Alyque Padamsee, and Roshan Seth (my favorite) as Nehru. There are others, of course, but those three provide able support to Kingsley's performance. They represent different political perspectives in their characters, and each of these men is complex and fascinating and "real."

I know that E.T. is more of a crowd pleaser and that Gandhi takes much more patience. You're also going to learn a bit more about civil disobedience that you may remember from your history and social studies and political science classes. Still, this is a great movie, much better than you remember if you've seen it before, and worthy of the critical attention that it received. Even I grumbled about its multiple wins that year, but having had the chance to watch it a couple of times in the intervening twenty-six years, I have come to appreciate just how great a movie it really is. Give it another chance.

In the Name of the Father (1993)

In the Name of the Father, a nominee for Best Picture of 1993, is a gripping story of a man falsely accused of the bombing of a London pub in the 1970s. It's based upon the true story of Gerry Conlon, who spent fifteen years in prison after he was tortured and coerced into signing a false confession to the crime. Three other people also go to prison for the crime, and Gerry's father and several more are also imprisoned for their alleged complicity in carrying it out. The movie is set during a time when there was great tension between the English, particularly those in London, and the Irish, especially anyone suspected of being a member of the Irish Republican Army (IRA). What In the Name of the Father does expertly is capture those mutual feelings of distrust.

As Gerry Conlon, Daniel Day-Lewis gives another of his intense performances; he does love to burrow into his characters, and the more complex and complicated they are, the better he seems to like them. As his father, Guiseppe, Pete Postlethwait is a study in quiet dignity. The scenes in prison, where father and son share a cell, are particularly illuminating of the differences between these men. And Emma Thompson provides a couple of sharp moments as the attorney who has taken up the Conlons' case, especially in the courtroom scenes that end the movie.

This is a well-made film filled with a great deal of politically charged dialogue. You certainly get the Irish perspective on the events here, and with the exception of Thompson's lawyer, you get a strong sense that the English people are too filled with their hatred of the Irish and the IRA (and an inability to distinguish between the two) to provide justice. I had a powerful feeling of being manipulated throughout this film to take the side of the Conlons without question. Undoubtedly, they were innocent of the crimes with which they were charged, but the movie is a bit heavy-handed in its depictions of the English. Surely, there must have been some honest members of the British police, for example, or someone who would have taken up this cause before Thompson's attorney appears many years after they have begun their prison terms.

Still, such an approach is understandable, given the predominance of the English perspective in films on this issue. The English have always had a strained relationship with the Irish, particularly those in Northern Ireland, where the early scenes of this film are set. What In the Name of the Father captures, perhaps even more accurately than the events surrounding the Conlons, is the way that the Irish and the English coexisted, frequently with violence and almost always with distrust. It offers us a window into a time that we in the United States probably know too little about.

Rain Man (1988)

May I admit to having never been that impressed with Rain Man, which won the Oscar for Best Picture of 1988? It has always seemed far too slick a film, too certain of itself, too smug, to make me feel any true emotions about its characters and their situations. Even the much-lauded lead performance by Dustin Hoffman as an institutionalized autistic person who is taken out into the real world by his brother leaves me cold. I do understand that it's all well-made ("slickly produced," I'd suggest), but to me, it just doesn't have that much of a heart.

Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise) is an importer of cars who's having some difficulty getting his latest purchases into the country when he hears of the death of his estranged father. He's left only two things in the will, the automobile he was never allowed to drive and the family rose bushes. The rest of his father's estate goes into a trust, a fact which infuriates Charlie, sending him in search of the lucky recipient of all of this wealth. By a series of rather unbelievable circumstances, he meets Raymond (Hoffman), his brother who has lived most of his adult life in an institution. Charlie decides to take Raymond to California with him, contest the trust, and use the money (or, at least, half of it) to solve his own financial problems.

What follows is a road movie that makes very little sense, frankly. If Charlie would listen even briefly to any one of the numerous health professionals who try to counsel him about Raymond, he would know better than to assume control of his brother's caretaking with so little preparation and understanding of autism. The reason they drive across America is even more astonishing; Raymond won't fly any airline that has ever crashed, leaving them only with Qantas, hardly a feasible option for getting from Ohio to California, at least directly. Time and again, Raymond's familiar patterns get interrupted, causing him to have some very violent and loud outbursts. You'd think Charlie would develop a sense that he isn't doing right by Raymond, but that never seems to happen.

I know what you're thinking. I've misunderstand. You see, this film is about the development of Charlie's conscience. He does indeed become a better man because of his contact with his long-lost brother. And they do build a relationship with each other. They just had to have the time to do it slowly so that Raymond could learn to adjust. Yeah, I got all of that. I'm still not buying it.

Perhaps the problem lies in Hoffman's performance most of all. I know he's considered one of the greatest actors of his generation, and he has certainly turned in any number of performances that I do like, but this isn't one of them. I just found it gimmicky. It's as if he learned one trait that is associated with autism and sticks with it for more than two hours of film time. There's no real sense that this is a person; it's a cardboard figure of someone with autism. And even the moments that are played for laughs--like the one about the airlines--are, to me, rather condescending to the struggles that real people with autism must endure.

Cruise, on the other hand, does what I consider to be some of his strongest early work. He seems to be at his best when he has to play shallow, self-centered characters, men who need to have something taken away from them so that they can begin to appreciate and understand life better. In Rain Man, he demonstrates a pretty remarkable range of emotions, and his performance rings truer for me than Hoffman's does.

I know my reaction to the film might strike some as odd. It's just that this film is a good example of the kind of movies that Hollywood started making around the middle of the 1980s. Actually, "making" might be the wrong word; "packaging" might be more accurate. Major stars? Check. Plot line sure to tug heart strings? Check. Serious topic being addressed with gravity? Check. Beautiful cinematography of the parts of the country that don't usually appear in movies? Check. A funny line every few minutes to break the monotony of seriousness with which we must handle the subject matter? Check. It's movie-making by committee, and it dominates too much of the product coming out of the studios these days. Rain Man just happens to be one of the first major examples of this trend, and I'm not a fan. Sorry about that.

Sergeant York (1941)

Sergeant York, nominated for Best Picture of 1941, probably earned its spot on the list thanks to the lead performance of Gary Cooper. Cooper was always best at roles that required some measure of restraint and quiet, and he found no better part than that of World War I hero Alvin York. The film itself is pretty standard for a biopic, with its attention to the major events of York's life, especially the difficulty that the poor face in trying to make a living or even perhaps get a chance at a better life.

York was a simple farmer from Tennessee who was drafted into military service. Having recently become a Christian after quite a few years of what my grandmother would have called "carousing," he holds fast to the principles that he has learned in church and from talks with his minister, Rosier Pile, played by Walter Brennan. After several attempts to get out of military service as a conscientious objector, York becomes a war hero by almost single-handedly capturing a troop of German soldiers. He uses the trick of gobbling like a turkey to pick off soldiers one by one, a trick he had demonstrated earlier in the movie in attempting to win the prize money at a turkey shoot.

Cooper plays York as an innocent, someone who is naive to the ways of the world. He seems to find almost everything new to be awe-inspiring and even miraculous. He also has incredible luck throughout the years he was in the military. Unlike back home in the hills, where he has been cheated out of some land by someone jealous over York's relationship with a pretty unmarried girl (Joan Leslie, affecting an unbelievably bad accent), in the Army and in Europe and even in New York after his service has ended, York is never taken advantage of and no one ever encourages him to do the wrong thing. I'm not sure that the real Alvin York was so lucky and/or--dare I suggest it--simple-minded as he is played here, but Cooper manages to show us that strength of character is the virtue most likely to keep you alive and successful.

This film is more overtly Christian in its tone than you might expect from a Hollywood film of its time, but it isn't "preachy." In fact, the conflict between York's patriotism and his religious faith is handled with intense seriousness. It's a further testament to Cooper's acting ability that he can show the difficulty that York faced in making the decision of which was to be more important to him: service to his country or the principles he learned in his church. Never during the course of the film did I feel manipulated, and that's probably a trait that has been lost in the art of moviemaking since Sergeant York was first released.

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

Almost everyone in this version of Romeo and Juliet, nominated for Best Picture of 1936, is miscast. Norma Shearer, who plays Juliet, was already 34 years old. Leslie Howard, playing Romeo, was 47. And John Barrymore, trying gamely to have some fun as Mercutio, was already 54 years old! Add to the mix Edna May Oliver, who is usually pretty good for comic relief, as the Nurse and Andy Devine (yes, that Andy Devine, of Westerns fame) as Peter, the Nurse's servant, and you've got a pretty surefire guarantee for disaster. Poor Oliver delivers her lines as if she must single-handedly save the cast from boredom, and Devine retains that distinctive and distracting twang/drawl of his.

I'm sure this version of Shakespeare's classic has its fans, but this is meant to be a story of young lovers, people in the throes of the first real passions of their lives. It's not meant to be a mid-life crisis for Romeo (Howard has wrinkles, for heaven's sake!), and it certainly isn't meant to make Juliet seem to be a desperate spinster whose family has been unable to marry her off until she's in her mid-30s. And I don't even want to start in on poor Barrymore and his attempts to wield a sword in the heat of battle.

I'm willing to accept the beauty of the set design and the costumes as evidence of the quality of this production. And, to be fair, Shearer and Howard do the best they can with the roles despite their obvious unsuitability. Both are talented actors; they just aren't able to make anyone believe they're young enough to behave in this way. I even enjoyed watching Basil Rathbone as Tybalt, but he was almost as old as Howard when this film was made. I suppose there's some comfort in knowing that all of the performers were at least of the same age.

There is, of course, another version of this play that was also nominated for Best Picture. That's the one from 1968 featuring two actual teenagers, Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey, in the lead roles. I can't wait to watch that one again. Maybe it will help me to erase the memory of this earlier, feebler attempt.

Best Picture of 1999

The Winner: American Beauty.

The Other Nominees: The Cider House Rules, The Green Mile, The Insider, and The Sixth Sense.

My Choice: American Beauty. Three of the other nominees are worthy contenders; the exception is, of course, The Cider House Rules. I'd give a close second to The Sixth Sense, which is expertly crafted, but American Beauty is the greatest overall achievement in filmmaking among this group.

American Beauty (1999)

I don't know why I have waited so long to watch American Beauty, winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1999, again. I saw it in movie theaters when it was released and admired it. I purchased the DVD version not long after its release, yet it has collected dust on the shelf until now. Perhaps I thought it was the kind of film that doesn't grow richer upon repeated viewings. There was something precious about seeing it for the first time in a theater, a sense of surprise and admiration for what the filmmakers accomplished. Upon repeated viewing, however, I think I have a more mature response to the movie, and I've come to admire the performance of Kevin Spacey far more than I did the first time I saw it.

Spacey plays Lester Burnham, a middle-aged man who is unhappy with both his job and his family life. His wife Carolyn, played expertly by Annette Benning, has attempted to achieve perfection in all aspects of her life, but early in the film, you begin to realize that she is only able to maintain the appearance of perfection. Underneath, she and Lester both realize how much of a mess their suburban, upper-middle-class existence is. They are, in their own ways, very unhappy despite having all of the trappings that you would expect to make someone happy.

Lester loses his job (intentionally), begins buying pot from the kid next door, gets a job at the local burger joint, starts working out with the hopes of attracting the sexual attention of his daughter's friend (Mena Suvari)--quite a change from the depressing and depressed man he was before. He seems to want to relive his teenage years over again. Carolyn responds by having an affair with a fellow real estate agent, Buddy Kane (Peter Gallagher), the "Real Estate King." (Just as an aside, I can't help laughing when she calls him "your majesty" in the middle of their first time together--hilarious.)

Simultaneously, the Burnhams' daughter Jane (Thora Birch) begins a relationship with the pot-selling kid next door, Ricky, who has been released recently from an institution and now spends a great deal of his time videotaping random people. He also films other moments of life, as well, including the famous plastic-bag-in-the-wind scene. Ricky's family life is pretty complicated too. His mother (Allison Janney, quite tamped down here) has apparently suffered a nervous breakdown, and his ex-military father (Chris Cooper, stunningly good as always) is something of a gun nut and quite a homophobe. His greatest fear, other than the possibility that his son is using drugs again, is that Ricky will turn out to be gay. His misinterpretation of what he sees through his window one night leads to some pretty shattering consequences at film's end.

This isn't the first film to delve into the underside of suburban existence and expose it for the falseness. However, American Beauty is expertly made and one of the best exposes of that life. There's a sense of tension throughout the story; you can never tell, for example, when Lester's hair trigger might go off. There are also moments of great humor as well, but it's the anger that Lester feels--and which Spacey conveys perfectly--that stands out for me. When he says, "You don't get to tell me what to do ever again," there's such malice and glee mixed together, I got a chill. His accidental discovery of his wife's affair while working the drive-through of a burger joint is one of the funniest scenes of the film, yet you get a very clear sense of just how much he's going to punish (silently) Carolyn for her indiscretion. Spacey's performance truly pulls the movie together for me, and I guess the rest of the cast seemed to overshadow him the first time that I saw it. Kudos to the Academy for paying closer attention than I did and giving him the prize for Best Actor. (I suppose that's ironic considering the tagline for the movie, "look closer.")

I suppose I could talk about the underlying theme in this film of how we respond to homosexuality. Two of the neighbors are a gay male couple, Jim and Jim (I know, but not that funny), who are accepted by most of the people in the area, but they spark an intense response from Col. Fitts (Cooper) when they show up on the doorstep to welcome him and his family to the neighborhood. There are several times that Spacey's Lester Burnham is "accidentally" thought to be gay. I suppose one could make a case that Cooper's reaction to the friendship that develops between Lester and his son Ricky prepares the viewers for what happens toward the end of the film--and I'd imagine several academics have done so, actually--but it remains shocking to me. I know that the film is trying to juggle numerous issues here, and perhaps I am paying too much attention to just one of the threads of the narrative, but certainly it seems that the ways that we see the world are directly revealed by the ways that we treats others who are different from us (or, oddly enough, just like us). And maybe that's what the film is trying to tell us with its repeated references to homosexuality. It's a mature film in its handling of this subject matter, and that's a testament to the talented writer, Alan Ball, who went on to more fame for writing and producing Six Feet Under on television.