Frears a jolly good fellow

Stars Al Pacino, Judi Dench and John Hurt. Director Martin Scorsese. Screenwriter Lynda La Plante. Editor Thelma Schoonmaker. Cinematographer Jack Cardiff. And producers David Puttnam and Harvey Weinstein. No, it’s not the team behind the Postman Pat sequel (don’t be daft…Jack Cardiff’s dead for cripes sake). They’re all former laureates of the BFI Fellowship. And now Stephen Frears will join them on the roll of honour.

Leicester’s third most famous export (after Gary Lineker and bland red cheese), director Stephen Frears has been announced as the latest Fellow of the British Film Institute. An award that was established to recognise individuals’ “outstanding contribution to film or television culture”, Frears has worked on big and small screen projects for the last 45 years.

With two Oscar nominations chalked up against his own name, for directing The Grifters and The Queen, Frears has helmed seven films in all that have been nominated for Academy Awards – most recently the superb Philomena.

Here’s the full list…

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985, 0 wins, 1 nom) – Frears’s first major big screen success, it was Hanif Kureishi’s bold and sensitive screenplay that was beaten to the big one by Woody Allen himself for ‘Hannah and Her Sisters’

Dangerous Liaisons (1988, 3 wins, 7 noms) – A film that was gloriously decorated in more way than one; it’s responsible for Frears’s biggest haul with three Oscars wins, which includes victory for set decoration. Gettit? Gettit?

The Grifters (1990, 0 wins 4 noms) – Possibly the biggest con job of all was convincing the Academy that this overwrought, overrated picture should earn any nominations, let alone Frears’s first for directing.

Dirty Pretty Things (2002, 0 wins, 1 nom) – Audrey Tautou and Chiwetel Ejiofor starred in this thriller, but it was writer Steven Wright that was nominated, losing out to Sofia Coppola for ‘Lost in Translation’

Mrs Henderson Presents (2005, 0 wins, 2 noms) – “You see Bob Hoskins’s cock” is how my brother described this to me. It’s still unconfirmed as to whether this was the one line itch for the movie. Judi Dench was nominated for her lead role, and the costumes were given a nod too.

The Queen (2006, 1 win, 6 noms) – Helen Mirren regally rinsed the competition, picking up the only acting Academy Award in a Stephen Frears film. And he picked up his second directing nomination.

Philomena (2013, 0 wins, 4 noms) – Said we: “a human interest story of the highest order and if, as Sixsmith grouchily asserts at the head of the tale, such stories are for weak-minded, ignorant people then my old boss is completely correct – I’m about as weak-minded and ignorant as they come”

Turing of Toronto: What TIFF means for the 2015 Oscar race

Following in the gloried footsteps of 12 Years a Slave and Colin Firth, the march towards an Oscars dust-up has begun for The Imitation Game and Benedict Cumberbatch, following the former’s big win at last weekend’s TIFF finale.

For the Toronto International Film Festival is the second telling smoke-signal for things to come over the next few months; the People’s Choice Award winner is likely to feature among the Best Picture nominees come February’s Academy Awards and, like 12YaS, The King’s Speech and Slumdog Millionaire in the last six years alone, could well go on and win the whole darn caboodle. (The first – in case you were wondering – is obviously the prescience of this very blog.)

Rhys Darby looked sheepish after asking for a photo with Benedict Cumberbatch, Keira Knightley and their mates (Credit: Hannah Yoon/The Canadian Press)

As for its star…it’s ironic, I guess – a film about a man whose sole mission is to prevent the Nazis from taking over the world, played by an actor that is clearly hell-bent on invading and occupying Hollywood. Like a rogue panzer behind enemy lines, Cumberbatch’s otter-faced one-man mission to star in every film ever made continues in debonair earnest.

Cannes they do it…?

The Cannes Film Festival is an ideal opportunity to revel in absurdly early Academy Award predictions and and even absurdlier obvious puns. Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan picked up the Palme d’Or for his epic Winter Sleep last night, but does that mean he should start getting fitted for his dinner jacket ready for next year’s Oscar night? And, if not, will any of those pathetic LOSERS also in competition this year fare better?

Tell you what, let’s look at statistics and history to decide (you know, as opposed to what I usually do…taking a wild guess).

Here’s a good one to start…no Turkish film has ever been nominated for a Best Foreign Language film in the twenty years it has submitted entries. Ceylan himself came closest six years ago when his Three Monkeys made it as far as the January shortlist, but a Hollywood nod this time around would make history. To put this in to context, countries as lowly as Nicaragua, Kazakhstan (not, before you ask, for Borat) and Wales have all previously garnered nominations – and I mean lowly in terms of their film-making reputation…of course.

Four of the previous ten Palme d’Or winners went on to pick up an Academy Award nomination. At roughly a 50/50 split (give or take ten or so percentiles) this appears to bode evenly for Ceylan. But three of those four winners were helmed by Michael Haneke (for The White Ribbon and Amour) and  Terrence Malick (for The Tree of Life) – two directors that have transcended Cannes – and so this rather skews the form book out of the Turk’s favour.

On average (I’ve chosen ‘mean’), less than three films in competition over the last five years have gone on to be recognised at the Oscars. Considering there were eighteen in the frame yesterday, this again makes Ceylan statistically unlikely to get invited to the big show next February.

But if not Winter Sleep, then what? Here are the three I’d most expect to see rousing the Academy members to conciousness next winter…

 

Foxcatcher – The most talked about film at this year’s festival, Steve Carell is winning the plaudits for his ‘serious’ turn as a millionaire wrestling coach. But direcor Bennett Miller was nominated for ‘Capote’ (and passed over for ‘Moneyball’) and will likely feature again this time around.

Mr. Turner – Mike Leigh previous biopic ‘Topsy-Turvy’ is his most garlanded to date. His look at J. M. W. Turner should match it, and Timothy Spall’s central performance will be competing fiercely against Carell on Oscar night.

Two Days, One Night – “Two Palme d’Ors and no Os-cars” as the old chant goes. With the star quality of Marion Cotillard in the lead role, the Dardennes Brothers should finally get their long awaited Foreign Language nomination.

 

Oscars 2014 in review: 12 Cheers a Slave

You will already of course be completely acclimatised with the full roster of winners and hot action from last night’s Academy Awards after following my smash-hit live blog all the night long.

But here’s a refresher of some of the highs and lows. Have a read, enjoy and then – like me – we can finally put this whole thing to bed.

Courtesy of Alex Dimond – http://alexhdimond.tumblr.com/ – @alexplosion

Biggest Winner: 12 Years a Slave
I don’t care how many awards Gravity picked up, Best Picture trumps them all hands down. Made all the sweeter for its big two wins going down to the wire, the utter jubilation shown by the cast and crew was so genuinely well deserved. Now let’s just hope that McQueen and Ridley (GREAT name for a cop team) can kiss and make up.

Biggest Loser: American Hustle
10 nominations to its name and not one measly little gold man to take home. Yet, and despite it being my favourite of the nine, it’s difficult to make a good case that any of Russell and his acolytes were robbed. Maybe the director himself had the biggest shout for his script, but you won’t find me suggesting that Spike Jonze didn’t deserve the Best Original Screenplay Oscar.

Best Line: Jim Carrey – “Don’t patronise me”
…at the surprised applause he received on mounting the stage to introduce another redundant hero montage. And as he dropped the justified innuendo that he was snubbed in the past by the Academy (not being nominated for Man on the Moon is among their most criminal omissions) and pulled out some of his rubber faced magic, I thought “Aw, Jim Carrey…we don’t see him enough any more”. Maybe he’d be a great host next year. Or maybe he should take my sage advice and begin taking more show stealing supporting roles in the mould of Christopher Lloyd. Smokin’.

Lupita Nyong’o winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar (Courtesy of Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

Biggest Hero: Lupita Nyong’o

With such raw nerves on show, it’s always great when the guests look like they’re genuinely enjoying themselves. And despite never having been near the event in her short career, Lupita absolutely lapped it up. She looked utterly stunning and even though I’m not convinced that – notwithstanding the poor quality of the category – her performance deserved the win, it was impossible to begrudge her the unadulterated joy of victory.

Biggest Villain: ……
God, I don’t know. Do we really need a villain? Why can’t we all just get along. Who’s everybody else saying? Ok, I may as well go with Woody Allen too then. Seems like a safe choice.

No, scrap that actually. I’ll got for the pizza delivery guy, for being part of that arduous, tiresome bunch of sketches.

Ooo ooo, or Pink or Bette Midler for their dreadful performances.

Or Harrison Ford for looking like he’d spent the erstwhile years since the last Indiana Jones movie absolutely tanking quaaludes.

Or Solomon Northup; notable by his absence even though the real Philomena Lee and Captain Phillips both made the effort to be there. 

In fact, there are loads to choose from.

 

And on that note of appraising such a litany of heinous acts, the circus doth endeth for another yeareth…or at least for two or three months when the speculation for the 87th Academy Awards commences once again.

I’m already excited…

The Last Week Ends: Backing Singers and Old Sports

Huzzah! A whole week in this year’s Oscar run-up without a single Oscar themed death. Well done Hollywood and beyond…you’re true blue lust-for-living troopers.

Unless, conversely, you’re one of those mean-spirited old miseries who insist that Stephen Fry died on stage at the Royal Opera House last Sunday evening. Personally, I thought his Bafta presenterage lived up to the heights of his usual effortless brilliance in the job. And anybody who believed his hostmanship to be found wanting, I suggest they compare it directly with that oaf Corden’s massacring of the Brits.

Steve McQueen picking up the Best Film Bafta for ’12 Years a Slave’

At this stage, it’s looking like the results in most of the big categories will be more than likely carbon copied this time next week. 12 Years a Slave must be hot favourite with Cuaron picking up the consolation prize for directing. Blanchett and Lawrence are looking good for the lady trinkets and warp in those two Bafta-unnominated gentlemen from Dallas Buyers Club and that will probably be the set. David O. Russell should pick up his first Oscar by replicating his win for Best Original Screenplay and I’ve been pulling all along for Adapted winners Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope for Philomena, although it seems doubtful that the Academy will look any further than John Ridley for 12YaS.

But for all the excitement of the Baftas now being the last service station on the way to destination Oscar, I find it a dreadful shame that it’s no longer an utterly bias Anglophile love-in. The one-sided British bonanza that allowed Four Weddings and a Funeral to win Best Film and Director, and gave leading actor nods to Robert Carlyle for The Full Monty and Pauline Collins for Shirley Valentine. Under the old less showy regime, Dench, Fassbender, Hawkins and McQueen would all be walking away with those ghastly statuettes.

The Last Week Ends: Frozen, Feasts, Folk and the Good Ship Lollipop

Could this week’s Oscar news be any worse? Even in light of last week’s two deaths, I can’t remember feeling a sensation of loss that matches the depths I’ve endured today. All that potential for pure, blissful happiness, snatched away from me without warning. As I write this from my sordid pit of despair, I can but try to soldier on notwithstanding the chasm of emptiness that now pervades my very being.

But that’s enough about Ellen Page announcing that she’s a lesbian.

Shirley Temple receives the Juvenile Oscar from another human being who is also pictured

This week bore witness two another duo doing their damnedest to make it on to this year’s Academy Awards ‘In Memoriam’ segment. And I can, to a degree, make light of the matter as both of this week’s candidates were of a ripe old vintage. Shirley Temple was the name of note; that cute child star of 193os films like Bright Eyes, Curly Top and Heidi, and who became the youngest ever Oscar winner when, aged 6, she was granted a Juvenile Oscar. Yep, not even those kids from Look Who’s Talking Too managed to break her record.

The other codger to croak was Danish 95-year-old Gabriel Axel, who’s moment in that bright yet fickle Oscar sun came when his charming Babette’s Feast scooped the Best Foreign Language Film in 1988. The story of two elderly sisters, living spinsters’ lives in a remote 19th century Scandinavian village, having spent a life rejecting potential eligible suitors in favour of their love for the Lord. When their maid Babette, a French exile, wins the lottery she repays them by preparing a lavish Gallic feast for the siblings and their geriatric disciples. The likes of turtle soup, quail vol-au-vents and Veuve Clicquot are a world apart from the usual gruel and water the villagers are used too. Set against a palate of omnipresent grey, it is up to the viewer to decide whether Axel is highlighting the beautiful hues of human kindness or a gently attacking the feckless shackles of religion.

The Last Week Ends: Schell, Seymour, Survivor and Song Skulduggery

A week is a long time in the Oscar race. Speculation swings as capriciously as Violet Weston’s mood, awards continue to be dished out and Academy Award winning screen legends have the very temerity to steal the limelight by popping their immensely talented clogs. Meanwhile, I vacuum up nominated movies with roughly the same ferocity that Jordan Belfort does lines of cocaine.

The week began with the dreadfully sombre and universally unexpected news of the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman. There followed, of course, a myriad of eulogies and tributes for an actor who’s screen presence was unparalleled among his peers. His rare ability to be so perpetually fascinating, regardless of the role, is beyond equal. From a purely selfish perspective, it is an aching tragedy that we will be denied another 30 years of his phenomenal performances. He shall be truly missed.

This news followed that of Maximilian Schell’s death at 86. He beat co-star and two-time winner Spencer Tracy to win the 1961 Best Actor in a Leading Role Oscar for playing a lawyer defending a Nazi war criminal in Judgment at Nuremberg. He was nominated a further two times in the seventies for roles in The Man in the Glass Booth and Julia.

In non-mortality news, Writers Guild of America Awards were awarded to writers in America guildly (and use of ‘words’ like ‘guildly’ is one of a huge many of reasons that I’ll never garner such a nomination). Spike Jonze took the Original Screenplay award for Her while Captain Phillips shook off its disappointing day at the Academy Award nominations to bag the Adapted award courtesy of Billy Ray. Over the last five years, there has been WGA-to-Oscar conversion rate of 70%, but it’s difficult to imagine at least one of the awards in March avoiding 12 Years a Slave or American Hustle.

But the most fun was had deep deep down in that most weird and wonderful category, Best Original Song. Bruce Broughton and Dennis Spiegel will miss out on the chance to join some most eclectic of previous Oscar nominees. Bad boy Broughton did a naughty mischief, you see – he allegedly used and/or abused his lofty ex-position as an Academy governor to not-to-covertly influence voters to back his ditty from the unheard of Alone Yet Not Alone. As a result, the Academy decided that such foul play must earn only one award…a boot up the backside in the direction of the door. Poor sod.

But, if you see him, tell him that he can still keep up with the Oscar Race right here on this very blog and on Twitter at @bloscars, including the following thrifty reviews of films that my eyes and ears landed on this week…

Philip Seymour Hoffman dead

Philip Seymour Hoffman – Oscar winner for Capote and without doubt among Hollywood’s most powerful screen actors – has been found dead in his New York apartment, according to reports from the BBC.

The cause of death has yet to be publicised, but his passing is an utter shock. For the best part of the last two decades, PSH has proved himself as a perpetually fascinating presence; whether as leading man, supporting role or cameo.

Philip Seymour Hoffman won his only Oscar in 2006 for ‘Capote’

Among his more memorable parts were as a socially awkward, porn crewman with an obsession for Marky Mark in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights, a disturbingly louche socialite in The Talented Mr. Ripley and a sordid weirdo with sexual repression issues in Happiness. Also he was in Along Came Polly.

His star shot into the everyday movie fan vernacular off the back of his pitch perfect performance as Truman Capote, for which Hoffman won his first Academy Award of, what most sensible thinking people could only imagine would be, many. Well earned nominations followed thick and fast, for film stealing supporting roles in Charlie Wilson’s War, Doubt, and last year for definitely-not-a-Scientologist cult leader in PTA’s The Master. Also he was in The Boat That Rocked.

Hoffman was a breathtakingly wonderful screen actor and – as a general film fan – his departure at the age of only 46 leaves a chasm of lost potential performances that will not easily be filled by any other actor working today. Whatever the circumstances of his death, this is a terribly sad passing and he will be very sincerely missed.

Dead Good Alfonso: Cuarón wins DGA Award

Alfonso Cuarón took a giant leap towards Best Director Oscar glory after winning the Directors Guild of America award on Sunday. And what I wrote there was funny because Gravity is a film about space and a man said ‘giant leap’ in space once.

Until the Academy took a rather peculiar turn last year and totally blanked Affleck the elder like a gang of high school bitchwads, the DGAs had correctly predicted the last nine Best Director Oscar winners. So we must now assume that Cuarón’s slender Central American nose has edged just inches in front of Steve McQueen’s conk in the race.

Alfonso Cuarón receiving the DGA award from Ben Affleck for ‘Gravity’ (Credit: Reuters/Gus Ruelas)

Further furthermore more, 11 of the last 12 DGA winning films have gone on to pick up the Best Picture Academy Award – only Ang Lee’s tragic Brokeback Mountain failure preventing a distinguished dozen after Crash inexplicably trounced it.

So Gravity is, I don’t know, rising up in to the stratosphere, I guess, leaving, I suppose, 12 Years a Slave looking like a mere ant, ok, down on Earth, right?

Nomination Appreciation and Guildy Pleasures

And here you were, thinking – and, presumably, hoping – that I’d literally fallen off the face off the earth. The Oscar nominations were announced way back last Thursday and yet not a peep from this ne’er-do-well. Well, when I tell you that I was simply biding my time until a couple of other significant awards were announced (those being the SAGs and PGA) then I’m certain that you’ll understand that there is every chance that what I said is genuinely the case.

But it’s a sincere truthdom that the quantity of excited yelps garnered from this quarter during the last five day period is matched only by those ejaculated when England play Test cricket……except in Australia. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the Oscars race is now finally a go……and that England were a bunch of old toss in the Ashes. Both of which sentiments go utterly without saying.

Prepare to be bowled over by this latest (non-cricket related) news:

Oscar nominations

Last year’s complete nut house of a nominations announcement was always going to be a difficult act to follow; but there were enough surprises on Thursday to prevent one from snoozing off to Chris Hemsworth’s monosyllabic, antipodean tones. You can find the full list (it goes on and on and then on some more) at the bottom of this here post.

Boat-based suspense festival Captain Phillips was at the centre of the most glaring omissions. While it clambered like a gang of grizzled Somali bandits aboard the good-ship ‘Best Picture nomination’, Tom Hanks, Paul Greengrass and Barry Ackroyd all got, for the thinly veiled want of a better expression, mugged off in the respective Director (Alexander Payne and Marty were preferred), Actor (a case of thanks, but no T Hanks. Brilliant) and Cinematography categories.