2015 Oscars: Final Thoughts

And so it ends. After what I felt was one of the most impressive years for film in recent history, after all the analysis, after all the speculation, after all the predictions, the 87th Annual Academy Awards are complete. And here I share my final thoughts on the ceremony. Feel free to read and comment with your own thoughts of how it all went.

I like how in the end it seemed like a montage of Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu just winning a bunch of awards.

I didn't do amazingly in terms of my predictions. I got 16 out of 24, which isn't terrible, but is a step down from how I usually do. But, in fairness to myself, I expected not to do well this year. There were so many unpredictable awards. And so while there was nothing that came entirely out of left field, there were plenty of awards that had me on the edge of my seat. Even though, considering how many other awards it won, Birdman's Best Picture award shouldn't have seemed surprising, I still was wondering if Boyhood would eke out a sentimental win. In my own predictions, I discussed that I was torn over whether Birdman (my favorite film of the year) should win, or if it would be Boyhood (which I think has a broader appeal and makes a stronger case for its own longevity), but ultimately I'm really glad the award went to Birdman. I obviously think it's an incredible film, but more than that, it's a remarkably well-made film. Every component of this film is so beautifully done. I've spoken to a few people who did not like it, but their complaints have always come down to problems with thematic elements. It's impossible to deny how technically incredible this film is--from the cinematography, the score, the use of sound and light and space is just beautiful. Piece by piece, Birdman is not just my favorite film of the year, I believe it truly is the best film of the year. And the Academy honored it rightly.

But it is an unconventional Best Picture winner. It's message is more introspective than momentous, and it feels incredibly experimental and unOscary, and I kind of love that. It's also the first film to win Best Picture without a Best Editing nomination since Ordinary People way back in 1980. I'm not sure what that means, but it's something. That's not the only thing that's momentous. Last year, Alfonso Cuaron became the first Mexican filmmaker to win Best Director. Now, just one year later, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu becomes the second, and bodes well for more international films to gain recognition. It's also why Sean Penn's green card "joke" before presenting the Best Picture film was really in poor taste. That unnecessary comment kind of soured the moment for me.

Here are some other awards that stood out. Ida became the first ever film from Poland to win Best Foreign Language Film, which is great. Composer Alexandre Desplat, who is probably my favorite film scorer working today and always creates quirky and fun scores, won his first ever Oscar for The Grand Budapest Hotel after eight nominations. Whiplash did really well--a relatively low budget film won deserved awards for sound mixing and for editing (the famous nine-minute drum solo at the end of the film was cut together from, reportedly, 23 hours of footage, and yet works as a seamless piece. That's all due to the editing and the sound). A lot of people had been calling the editing award for Boyhood, and while I think Boyhood arguably deserved more than the one Oscar it received, that would have been wrong. Its champions pointed out "They had to edit a movie down from twelve years of footage!" No they didn't. It was not twelve continuous years of footage--it was the same footage as any other film, and while it was certainly put together well, Whiplash was a much more impressive feat. While we're on the subject of sound, American Sniper won the sound editing award which I'm okay with. After the film performed surprisingly well in terms of nominations, and had been gaining momentum due to its impressive box office haul, some had been calling it as a potential upset to win more major awards like Best Actor and Best Picture. Given my less-than-impressed thoughts on the film as a whole, that it took home only one award, and that was for sound editing, is perfectly fine by me. I was also very pleased with Big Hero 6 taking home the award for Best Animated Feature, in a bit of an upset over How to Train Your Dragon 2. I loved that film and it absolutely deserved its win. I was also glad to see The Phone Call triumph in the Best Live Action Short category. Even though I predicted it would win, it was not a sure thing at all, so seeing such a deserving film win was very satisfying. Featuring an amazing performance by Sally Hawkins (who gave one of the best performances of the year--if short films were eligible for acting awards she should have been nominated) it is one of the most emotional 20 minutes I've ever experienced. Which is why it was so funny to see how quirky, aloof, and seemingly unserious the filmmakers were in their acceptance speech.

I was less pleased with Feast's win for Best Animated Short. Of the nominees, it's the one the most people saw since it was before Big Hero 6, and it certainly is cute and I know it has a lot of fans. But, when seen side by side with the other nominees, for me it was pretty clearly the least impressive. The others tell much more complex stories and feature much more impressive and evocative animation. It didn't win because of its quality, it won because it's a Disney film and was the only nominee with brand recognition. Considering that last year, the more deserving film, Mr. Hublot, beat out the Disney nominee everyone expected to win, Get a Horse!, I was sad to see that pattern not repeated this year. Another award I wasn't thrilled about was the win for The Grand Budapest Hotel in the makeup and hairstyling category. A lot of people thought it would win, and yes, the old age makeup on Tilda Swinton was good, but Guardians of the Galaxy certainly achieved a lot more with its makeup on a wide number of characters. In terms of design, execution, and sheer scope, it should have run away with this award hands down, and its failure to do so demonstrates the Oscar's unfortunate aversion to comic book films--even those which were critically acclaimed. But, that being said, no other award really left a bad taste in my mouth. The ones I didn't agree with were not entirely unexpected, and there was no great injustice. If Interstellar had won for sound mixing, for instance, I was ready to swear I'd never watch a movie again, so I'm glad that never happened. Looking over the awards themselves there is very little to complain about.

And the speeches were pretty great. It's common amongst acceptance speeches to mention fellow nominees, and say how they are just as deserving of the award, but I thought Inarritu's directing acceptance speech said this more concisely than any other speech I've ever heard. He didn't just say "you all deserve this," he made the point to say that it is impossible to compare the work of him and the fellow nominees. And it's true. Inarritu's directing in Birdman was absolutely incredible, and he won due to his signature technical achievement, story-weaving, and style. But he lacked the ambition and audacity of Richard Linklater, the sheer distinct vision of Wes Anderson, the emotional intimacy of Bennett Miller, or the high-fastening pants of Morten Tyldum. It's not that they all deserved to win, it's that they all deserved to win for different reasons. And Inarritu expressed that in a way I've never heard in an acceptance speech before. Well done. There were really no speeches that stood out to me in a bad way, as there often are in other years. Acceptance speeches can lead to awkward moments, but everyone was very gracious and charming and wonderful (although, Julianne Moore's seemed a bit rehearsed--I have a feeling she started writing that speech four nominations ago). And it was nice to see an emphasis on social justice. It used to be the trend that Oscar winners would mention a certain cause in their speech, and while that still happens, it's not as common as it used to be. But this time, many worthy causes were championed. Inarritu also implored America to show immigrants more respect during his speech when Birdman won best picture (his third speech of the night). From the winners of Best Documentary Short Subject imploring us to talk about suicide, to Patricia Arquette calling for us to pay more attention to women's rights, it was a politically charged Oscars to be sure. The best speech of the night was, by far, the one given by John Legend and Common when they won for their song "Glory" in the film Selma. It was the frontrunner going into the ceremony, but after the live performance, it would have been criminal for it not to win. It blew the other nominees (and it was a good batch of songs this year) out of the water with its sheer power and importance. The tears-inducing reception it received was a wonderful reminder of how the arts can affect us on such a personal level. It also made me consider Selma as a whole, and what its place in history will be. Many felt it was snubbed by the Oscars, and it was. But, remember, Selma is still a Best Picture nominee. And that is a pretty big deal. You know what other film was a Best Picture nominee but didn't get any nominations in other major categories like acting, directing, or screenwriting? The Wizard of Oz. And that film is doing okay. Who knows how history will judge this current batch of films. Looking through old Best Picture nominees is a fascinating experiment--some films have stood the test of time, and some have not. They may have taken home the same number of awards tonight, but I cannot help but feel that people will be talking about Selma long after they've stopped talking about American Sniper. Sure, it would have been nice for Ava DuVernay to have been the first woman of color nominated for Best Director. And the Academy definitely has some major problems with diversity. But Selma is going to be okay. And, I can't help but mention that Birdman's awards dominance meant that many awards went to Latinos, so the award-winners were surprisingly non-white, all things considered.


Of the acceptance speeches, there was only one that left me a little bit annoyed. And that was Graham Moore's speech after he won the award for Best Adapted Screenplay for The Imitation Game. As many people loved that speech, please hear me out. The speech on its own was fantastic. It was another speech that brought in a political cause, specifically LGBTQ rights. Moore mentioned how, when he was young and depressed, he contemplated suicide because he felt "weird and different" and that he "did not belong." His speech called out to everyone who felt weird or different, and encouraged them to hang on, because one day they might make it where he is. It's a beautiful and important sentiment, and a powerful one. He prefaced all of this by pointing out that Alan Turing, The Imitation Game's subject, never got to stand on such a stage, and he did. Turing was, infamously, unrecognized for his accomplishments and that is forever a stain on our historical record, considering this man's contribution towards winning the war (and, you know, basically inventing the computer), and that the reason he was unrecognized for so long was because he was persecuted for his sexuality is simply despicable. Moore's speech was powerful, and it was timely, and it pointed out how Turing's story related to the present, and why it's important that his story be told, because honoring and remembering Turing can actually save lives. And THAT is why his speech annoyed me: because it did everything that the screenplay for The Imitation Game did not. The film shows how instrumental Turing was in winning the war, yes, but it glosses over his sexuality. We never actually see him engaged in any sexual activity, or any relation with a man whatsoever. The takeaway from the film is that Turing was not recognized for his work during his lifetime, but it never makes it clear just how much his accomplishments were buried SPECIFICALLY because of his sexuality. At the end of Turing's life, his health had deteriorated rapidly due to dangerous medication and treatment he was forced to take to cure him of his homosexuality. This is shown in exactly one scene, and the actual symptoms he demonstrates are much softer than what Turing actually went through. In the film, it seems as if Turing has just come down with a bit of a cold. In reality, it was much worse. His persecution--the very thing that makes Turing so tragic and what makes it especially important that we celebrate his accomplishments now that we are aware of them--is basically glossed over and tampered down. And that is the fault of director Morten Tyldum, that is the fault of the producers, and it is very much the fault of Moore. It's possible that more of this existed in Moore's earlier drafts, I don't know. But regardless, his speech showed the potential of how great The Imitation Game could have been and simply wasn't. I loved Graham Moore's speech. But it reminded me of how absolutely lackluster and disappointing the film that he won the award for truly was.

The other thing that really rubbed me the wrong was was the exclusion of Joan Rivers in the In Memoriam montage. Overall, I liked the montage--the decision to cut out the live sound feed was a great one. It always bothers me when people applaud during this section. Not only does it feel like people are going "Gee, I'm glad HE'S dead," but the loudness of the applause tends to place an uncomfortable imbalance on the weight of those who died. In previous years, the more recognizable names get thunderous applause, but the death of a prolific cinematographer, for example, would not. It always feels like "Yeah, we're honoring those we lost, but these are the people who are REALLY important." And so having the audience's sound cut out during the broadcast pleased me. But to not include Rivers? Shameful. She is a controversial figure, to be sure, but was incredibly influential in the entertainment industry as a whole. Although best known for her stand-up and for her work on television, her wikipedia page credits her with involvement in 27 films (more than some of the other actors nominated, such as Misty Upham, who died tragically young last year) including the fantastic documentary about her life from a few years ago. Anyone who doesn't think Rivers is deserving of respect should watch this film, which certainly does not paint her as a saint, but showcases the truly groundbreaking work she did. More than that, though, Rivers' red carpet presence connected her very personally with the Oscars themselves. Rivers is widely credited with making the red carpet ceremony so popular, and while the red carpet feels increasingly inane year after year, to not honor someone who so significantly impacted the ceremony's telecast is truly baffling. She absolutely deserved mention. Excluding her was a clear slap in the face.

I also didn't love the Sound of Music tribute. I know a lot of people loved it, so again, hear me out. I thought Lady Gaga was great--she admirably left her signature weirdness at home and demonstrated what those who pay attention already know: that she is an incredible singer. When Julie Andrews came out, visibly overcome with emotion, it was a pretty magical moment. So, why did I not love this? Because the entire time I was thinking "This is great, but why am I watching this?!" Considering the ceremony ended after midnight, a random medley of songs from The Sound of Music came completely out of nowhere. Sure, it's a great film, but we don't honor every classic film on its 50th anniversary with a speech, a movie montage, and a rather long musical performance. What was it doing there? The segment itself was great, but this was really not the place.

Last but not least, we have the host. Neil Patrick Harris has, by hosting the Oscars for the first time, seemingly hosted every single awards show ever now. And he proved once again that it's a role he's really good at. He's a man of many talents and infinite affability. It's just hard not to like him (and only he could have made the Witherspoon with-her-spoon joke work). The opening number was strong and a great way to start off the show (although I wish that instead of talking about movies in general, more focus had been paid to the actual nominees that night, which felt very much lost in the shuffle). Harris popped up from time to time and while some of his jokes hit harder than other, many landed really strongly. The writing overall was good, and Harris' performance was great. He had less to do as the ceremony went on, as is often the case, but what he did he did well. That being said, he didn't really make his mark on the ceremony the way last year's host Ellen DeGeneres did. With taking selfies and ordering pizzas, DeGeneres really made the show feel like hers, which Harris didn't. He was very game (loved the Birdman reference where he presented in his underwear) and competent, but not extraordinary. The closest he came to really putting his individuality into the ceremony was with the briefcase containing his predictions. This was, of course, a magic trick, where when he opened the briefcase, he could display detailed predictions about the proceedings (like the Ida director getting played off, only to keep talking, and having to get played off AGAIN). Harris has always been a magic enthusiast, and is a more than competent magician in his own right, and it was clear that this moment was meant to be the big reveal-- a magic trick where the untouched briefcase contained impossible predictions! Versions of this trick have been done before, and always gets a great reaction at magic shows. But...this was not a magic show. We were not an audience who were there to be amazed, we were an audience that wanted to hear who had won awards. So, that Harris' "big reveal" came at the very end of an already too-long ceremony, with just one award left to give out, rather than being amazed, I just felt impatient. About halfway through the ceremony I had predicted that something like this was going to happen, but I was really hoping that all of Harris' predictions which go through everything that happened in the ceremony were going to be in song or rap form. For those who don't know, Harris has closed the Tony's the past few times he has hosted with a song composed throughout the ceremony which goes over everything that happened. If the briefcase had contained lyrics to such a song and Harris had sung it. When he's done that at the Tony's it has always been incredible, and is a signature thing of his which could have been carried over to this ceremony and made the whole thing much more incredible. Instead, it was a nice effort that just kind of fell flat. That being said, it's impossible not to like Harris. His hosting was not as outstanding as it could have been, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. All in all, I left the Oscars feeling happy and contended. This awards ceremony that I love so much--a ceremony that continues to honor achievement in the arts, and which continues to inspire those future Oscar nominees and winners out there, had a really great showing tonight. And I couldn't be more pleased.

Oscars 2015: The Rest of the "Best"

It's a good thing Bradley Cooper won that teddy bear because he won't be winning any Oscars this year. Zing!

With such a strong year for film last year, I found the nominations for the upcoming Oscars rather disappointing. So much good work seemed to be passed up in favor of mediocrity. I wrote my own disgruntled post responding to the nominees (one which ended up talking a surprising amount about sound mixing...) but I was hardly the only one to find these nominations disappointing. Everyone thought they sucked.

Now that I've had some time to consider these nominations, I've moved through the grieving process and arrived at acceptance. Sure, Selma deserved more nominations, but you know what? It was nominated for Best Picture, and that's the BIG award that everyone wants. Years from now, no one will care about the number of nominations. But "Best Picture Nominee" will still carry a lot of weight. And ultimately, I should really be happy with the Best Picture nominees. Of the eight films nominated for Best Picture, five of them were included in my list of the best pictures of the year. You can read my in-depth write-ups on Selma, Whiplash, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Boyhood, and Birdman by clicking on the titles. But that still leaves three Best Picture nominees. What of them? What are my thoughts on those? That's what I mean to examine in this post. What kept those other three films, deemed worthy by the Academy, from making my own list of acclaim? Well, I've already discussed The Imitation Game briefly. To recap, it's a very well-made movie that simply doesn't ever feel extraordinary. It's a very by-the-books biopic, which glosses over the more tragic parts of Alan Turing's story which actually need to be told, and tells its story in a flashy and well-crafted, but ultimately fleeting way. But it's not a bad film. The other two nominees, however, The Theory of Everything  and American Sniper, are. So let's talk about those.

"Wait, so you..."
"No."
"You don't want to talk about my movie?"
"No, Benedict, just go home."

We'll start with The Theory of Everything which, like The Imitation Game, is a stylish and pretty biopic about a British genius. The genius in this case is Stephen Hawking, portrayed by Eddie Redmayne. And, yes, Redmayne is fabulous. He does not just do an impression, he creates a fully realized character that Hawking himself has praised. He has been racking up awards all season and it's not hard to see why. So it's a shame that he has such a weak script to work with. It's not that Stephen Hawking is not deserving of a biopic, but The Theory of Everything goes about telling this story all wrong. It is sometimes said that one should never make a biopic about someone who is still alive, and this film demonstrates why. Perhaps because Hawking is so revered and was so present behind the scenes, the film can never really provide an objective view of its subject. Combined with just how clearly and desperately the film longs for acclaim and accolades, the film and its story become incredibly watered down. Because this is a film that could have really examined a more complete and non-biased view of Stephen Hawking than the one that we know, and missed the opportunity. It is bland beyond belief. Even the things done well--like the score and the production design--feel bland because they feel so typical and generic.

So generic that he even has those two and a half kids that the average family always has. If you count the soccer ball as a half kid, of course. Which I do.

It was not until after I watched the film that I realized it was not adapted from a Stephen Hawking biography, but from the memoirs of his ex-wife Jane Wilde Hawking, played by Felicity Jones in the film. I have a feeling that when this film was first pitched, she was meant to be the main character--what was it like to be the wife of such an esteemed figure? They had a troubled marriage which, of course, ended in divorce, and that perspective could have made a great movie. But, I bet in developing this script, the filmmakers realized something. As interesting as Jane is, Stephen Hawking is infinitely more fascinating. Jane is intelligent and wonderful in her own way, but she is not Stephen Hawking (let us all think back on the film Julie & Julia where, despite having the effortlessly charming Amy Adams playing her, the titular Julie was aggressively uninteresting when contrasted with a presence like Julia Child). And so somewhere along the way, the attention shifted, and it became a film about Stephen Hawking after all. While Jones is nominated in the leading actress category, there is no doubt that she is in a supporting role here. So the film became more of a traditional biopic about Hawking. But one that still partially felt stuck in Jane's story. The result is a muddled and confused film that's not really sure what it wants to do. This is a film that does not have a proper focus or understanding of its main character.

Stephen and Jane Wilde Hawking--the conflicting protagonists of The Theory of Everything

And so, despite being about one of the most fascinating figures of the century, and having a brilliant actor who seemed destined to play him, the film fails to bring said figure to life. It tells his story in the most uninteresting way. At some point Stephen is rushed to the hospital and the film spends a good deal of effort making us think he's going to die. That's all well and good, but we know he's not dead, so the suspense is gone. It's the same as when he's told he'll never walk again and that there's no hope for him, and everyone thinks that's the end. We know about how Stephen can communicate, so despite Redmayne's emoting, the situation never feels as hopeless as the film is relying on it to be.

But the biggest disappointment about the film is that it somehow fails to actually talk about science when telling the story of Stephen Hawking. The science is glossed over. The movie finds it uninteresting, and so the audience cannot truly grasp Stephen's fascination with it, or the true momentous nature of his discoveries.

See? Look how blurry that science on the chalkboard is. Point proven.

My problems with the film can, in fact, be summed up in a single scene, where Stephen is presenting his theory to a group of professors and scientists and generally important smart people who are all old white men (which is probably why the Academy liked this film so much). He arrives at the building and is wheeled into the room. At this point, the scene changes, and cuts to the last minute of his presentation. The film had a perfect chance to explain directly to its audience what Stephen Hawking actually proposed, and chose to show us a hurried summary. The presentation now over without us having heard it, one of the generally important smart people gets up and says "Complete nonsense. Preposterous!" and he and a few others leave. Things are looking bad for Stephen. Will he ever gain respect as a scientist?!?! Yes. We know this. We are not worried. As luck would have it, at that moment, another Professor gets up and introduces himself as a Russian professor and says "As you know, I study the theory of black holes and to be honest, I came here today expecting to hear a lot of nonsense. I go home disappointed. I have to say, the little one here has done it!" Never minding that a bunch of other smart people clearly disagree, and never minding that somehow this professor immediately knows that this brand new theory that has never before been proposed must be correct, and never minding that most of the people in the room had never met Stephen before and were in no way invested in his failures or successes, everyone bursts into applause.

Why does that scene sum up my view of the film? Because it's all about the drama. The applause makes no sense, but it's there because it makes it a more dramatic moment. The filmmakers imagine the audience clapping along with them. According to the filmmakers, the science is not important--we don't need to know what Hawking's research was, we just need to know that he's super smart. These moments feel so manufactured, and so artificial, that the film ends up being little more than a soap opera. A bad soap opera.Without the self-awareness that makes actual soap operas so enjoyable.

"I have something to tell you, Jane. I am not Stephen. I am his twin cousin Salvatore Hawking. Yes, the one who died in that yacht fire three years ago!"

I couldn't think of a good segue to connect these films so...here's a picture from the movie Love is Strange which came out this year. It was good, not amazing, but definitely good. Certainly better than both The Theory of Everything and American Sniper.

Segue achieved!

I must admit that I did not have high expectations going in to see American Sniper and was ready to absolutely hate it. After seeing the film, I can't say that it was the worst film I'd ever seen, and in terms of objective quality, I'd rank it higher than The Theory of Everything when looking at this year's nominees. But the film is nonetheless deeply flawed. And, no, I'm not just referring to the incredibly fake baby, although that is indeed hilarious.

This is the best part of the film, to be honest.

I'll get to the film's faults in just a second, but first I'd like to discuss what American Sniper does well, because it is not without its merits. First, credit is due for Bradley Cooper, in his performance as the titular sniper Chris Kyle. His nomination for best leading actor came out of nowhere, and while I would not have chosen to nominate him, it is definitely a strong performance, and a very different performance from Cooper which shows his versatility. It would be a good performance coming from anyone, but coming from Cooper it was very unexpected--it's a quiet performance which shows a lot of restraint. He imbues Chris Kyle with a grounded strength. For a character who is written as somewhat annoyingly perfect, Cooper makes him feel very real, giving him sensitivity, pain, and dimension that a weaker actor would not have been able to accomplish.

Bradley Cooper as sniper Chris Kyle

Aside from Cooper, the film's greatest strength is that it serves as a very strong and thoughtful examination on the subject of war itself. From reading about American Sniper before going into it, I was ready for a shoot-em-up free-for-all flick glorifying the violence of war. But it was absolutely nothing like this, to the point that I'm rather amazed anyone could come out of the theater and not think that its message was profoundly anti-war. I shouldn't be too surprised, though; as with director Clint Eastwood's previous war films Flags of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima, his own well-documented anti-war stance assures that the acts of violence are never glorified. He doesn't condescend the soldiers, but also comments on how difficult the lifestyle is, and how the mentality soldiers are conditioned to develop can be harmful. When Chris is home from the war and clearly undergoing PTSD attacks, he never can acknowledge this reality. In one of the better scenes, a psychiatrist asks Chris whether killing 200 people might have taken a toll on him. Chris seems to not even understand the question. The best lesson to take away from American Sniper is the consistently subpar way that our veterans are treated, and how so many are completely unprepared for the harsh realities of war. Even Chris, who from purely a technical standpoint is an all-American supersoldier and epitome of a macho man, experiences what those of us who do not serve can only imagine. Eastwood admirably does not place blame on the soldiers themselves, but also does not shy away from displaying the harsh realities of what soldiers must do, and explores the mindset and the conditioning of the modern American soldier. When he does so, the film is at its strongest. And I wish he had explored these issues deeper than he did.

Bradley Cooper is thinking so hard right now.

But, as well and as tactfully as Eastwood presents the realities of war, he fails when it comes to depicting his Iraqi characters. And that is a flaw that simply cannot be overlooked--it is not just a flaw in terms of technical storytelling, but one which is simply inexcusable. The rest of the film could be the best movie ever, and would still be a failure based on this flaw. It would be a stretch to say that this is the worst portrayal of Iraqis I've seen, but in a world that is already rife with Islamophobia, the film's own use of it is wholly unnecessary. Not only is it hateful, but it makes the film feel useless and ireelevant. And while I get that it was depicting wartime the film seemed to go out of its way to portray all Iraqis as terrorists. The very first scene is of Kyle shooting an innocent-seeming woman and child once it becomes clear they are carrying a grenade. Then there's the family whose house is invaded by the U.S. soldiers and forcibly told they'll be using his house as their base. The head of the house seems friendly, and invites all of the soldiers to dinner, only for Chris to discover that (surprise) the family has lots of guns in its possession and is in league with the bad guys. The father gets shot later. There is one civilian who is non-violent and attempts to help them, but only does so when they pay him a hefty amount of money. He too gets shot later. They are not treated like characters, they are treated like targets. Especially for a film that touches on the impacts a soldier's job can have on them, the fact that anyone of Middle Eastern descent is treated in such a way is blatantly reprehensible. They are treated about as humanly as the deer that Chris shoots as a kid in an early scene. they are filmed in basically the same way as the paper targets that he practices on. It's disgusting. I mean, even in WWII films, you typically have that one nice Nazi who actually helps out. Not in American Sniper.

What I'm saying is, it's racist.

Mustafa, a potentially interesting character whose potential was wasted in exchange for more racism!

The potential for this film to not be racist is perhaps most wasted when it comes to a character known only as Mustafa (Sammy Sheik). Chris is not just a sniper, he is the best sniper in the history of the American military, and Mustafa is set up as very much a counterpart to him. He's a sniper for the Iraqi army and appears just as legendary and as deadly as Chris himself. Mustafa, by the way, is almost entirely a fictional character. He existed, sure, but Chris Kyle only devotes a sentence or to to Mustafa in his book--in the film, he becomes a major presence. Given that they were already taking creative liberties (more on that in a second) the filmmakers could have drawn a really interesting parallel here. Perhaps we could see that Mustafa is human too, and that he is dealing with the same things Chris is. Perhaps he has a family too? Perhaps he too is dealing with the struggles of being a killer for a living? Of the characters in the film, he is after all, the only one that we learn a little bit of backstory about. Of all of Chris' fellow soldiers, we don't ever learn any of their stories, and even his wife Taya (Sienna Miller) is left startlingly unexplained. We don't even know what her job is, if she has one at all. But with Mustafa, we're given the intriguing bit of information that he had previously been an Olympic gold medalist for Syria. So, unlike everyone except Chris, he has a backstory! He too is a national hero. But the film decides to do absolutely nothing with this information, and Mustafa is played primarily as a supervillain. He hops from roof to roof like a ninja, never speaking, simply shooting at soldiers. He becomes this silent enigma, meant only to further the idea of the savage, mysterious, and violent Muslim. He's cartoonishly absurd. I found the depiction of this character, frankly, hilarious, up until and including the moment where Chris fired a bullet and the movie went into Matrix-style slo-mo to show us the bullet for absolutely no reason. The moment where Chris shoots Mustafa is clearly meant to be important in his life. After the shooting, he for the first time says he wants to go home, and a friend of his (who, if he was given a name, it was completely lost on me) says "Mission Accomplished." Which always means one's work is done. But this doesn't feel momentous to those watching the film. A relationship between the two--whether it's rivalry or perverse respect--is never set up.

And this is the core of the film's problems as a piece of cinema--relationships are simply not defined. The only actual name I can think of for another character is Biggles, one of the soldiers whose face is partially blown off. He is meant to be Chris' friend, but we don't see any connection between them. Their relationship doesn't feel true, and I don't believe they've ever spent a day together, let alone gone through a war together. Other than Chris, no character is fleshed out at all including, as mentioned before, Chris' wife Taya. Their relationship too is rather briskly glossed over. They meet, and one phone call later, they suddenly get married. Poor Sienna Miller struggles to bring any characterization to Taya, but is unable to thanks to a weak script. At first, she is a rather clumsy characterization of the "independent woman" trope, who swears off men until Chris wins her over immediately. Then she is the devoted wife, who clearly cares about Chris, but we don't really understand why since we don't actually see a connection between them. Then, later in the film, they're fighting, but again, it feels unearned. We don't know their relationship well enough to believe it exists at all, or to believe it when it begins to sour.

Chris and Taya gaze at each other lovingly on their wedding day.

But the characters are not the only things that feel unrealistic. Many of the scenes themselves feel unrealistic. And do you know why? Because they're not real. They didn't happen. I haven't read the book so I don't know exactly how much is made up, but here's a video of a guy named Brett who goes over how much of the film is actually truthful. It's less than a minute long and you should watch it. And so, the things that seem incredibly over the top and unbelievable are that way because they are completely made up by screenwriter Jason Hall. The aforementioned sniper Mustafa? Made up. The fact that Chris talks to his wife on a cell phone WHILE IN THE MIDDLE OF COMBAT which leads to her thinking he's died when he unsurprisingly gets fired on? Totally made up. The unrealistic Bond villainesque Iraqi general who likes to drill holes in kids' heads for fun? Made up AND racist. Even the one thing I liked in the film--Chris' difficulties with coming to terms with what he's done--was totally made up (follow that link, by the way, to read a more thorough rundown of everything the film gets wrong). American Sniper's fellow Best Picture nominees The Imitation Game, The Theory of Everything, and Selma are all based on true events and have similarly come under some fire for fictionalizing some true events. Here's the thing, one is never going to be able to depict events exactly as they happened in film. It's just not going to happen, in the interest of story and in the realm of reality. But the changes these films make, whether good or not, make sense. In American Sniper, the events are not only blatantly made up, but they're stupid. This whole screenplay is stupid, filled with many moments of unintentional comedy from its overly cheesy and machismo writing (such as Chris' father's idiotic speech about sheepdogs at the beginning) which paints a wholly unrealistic painting of the war and the work of a sniper.

As I said before, I did like the film more than I thought I would. It is technically well-made, and Cooper really does give a great performance. But, racism really does ruin the whole thing. And lest one say that it isn't that bad, or that it's unimportant, it is incredibly vital. Many have attacked comments made by Michael Moore and Seth Rogen as being unpatriotic after they criticized Chris Kyle, but there has been less coverage of some of the really horrible tweets made in response to the film. Since the film's popular release, the rate of anti-Arab and anti-Muslim threats has tripled. And, considering the tragic events in Chapel Hill this past week, this film is fueling an all-too present hatred in a way that is irresponsible. I can't help but think of the film Breakfast at Tiffany's. It's mostly a wonderful film, but Mickey Rooney's incredibly racist portrayal of a Japanese landlord will forever be a blight it cannot erase--the film may be a classic but it simply does not hold up. I can only imagine that American Sniper will face the same fate. History will not be kind to this film. Years from now, it will be looked on as the racist film which somehow was named one of the best pictures of the year. The Academy is certainly flawed. It makes mistakes. And nominating American Sniper is undoubtedly one of those mistakes.

BEST FILMS OF 2014: Intro and Honorable Mentions

 Last year, everyone kept talking about how it was a great year for film. And they were right. It was a year for films tackling serious issues (with varying degrees of success) and doing so with polish and professionalism. When I think about last year, I see a showcase of strong filmmaking. Standard filmmaking. Studied filmmaking. This isn’t a bad thing. After all, Casablanca, which is deservedly considered to be one of the best films of all time, succeeds in its perfect execution of well-known themes. But, quality aside, even the more innovative high-profile films of last year had a certain tendency to sit between the lines. Best Director winner Gravity may have featured never before seen technical innovations, but the story and characters were nothing new in the slightest. Best Picture winner 12 Years a Slave was a triumph in its honesty and in its perspective, but not in terms of the filmmaking itself (Michael Fassbender’s Oscar-nominated performance as the chief antagonist especially was nothing new). I feel this even extends to Her, which many would consider one of the more innovative movies to come out last year. While the concept was indeed novel, the story itself and how it progressed was nothing all that unusual. And, despite some distinctly futuristic touches, the production design was, purposefully, not meant to completely throw us off guard. Again, none of this is a bad thing. Good filmmaking is good filmmaking, and I believe that 2013 can forever be held up as a banner year in terms of quality film, done the way they should be done.

Her was seen as unconventional last year, but storywise, actually followed a fairly familiar route.

2014 is also proving to be a great year for film. But, more than that, I think this is a year for innovative film. And that’s a beautiful thing. I am struck by how clearly this year has featured films that are not only good, but take real risks. This doesn’t make these films inherently better than the best films of 2013, but they’re ones that I personally will remember many years down the road. My favorite films from this year run circles around my favorites of last year. And, frankly, I just have a lot more to say about them. This year's films were more thought-provoking, more substantial, and more concretely encouraged discussion once you left the theater. My favorite best picture nominee of last year was Philomena--a wonderfully told story that certainly had plenty to analyze, but for the most part was very straightforward. The films of this year got my brain racing. They were not just great movies, they were marvelous achievements, and they inspired me.

Fans of this blog will surely have noticed that I haven't posted anything in a long time. My last post was in August. But that's all about to change. I realized early on that, this year, it would not do to just have a single post listing my favorite films of the year. No, each one is going to get its own post. In the coming week and a half, I will release a new post every day counting down my favorite films of the year. So, keep your eye on this blog for some passionate discussion about some great movies!

I don't know about you, but Will Ferrell is excited.

Those posts will start in the new year, but before I get into my countdown, I would like to name a few honorable mentions. Because there are lots of movies I would have loved to include but which I simply didn't have room for.

Let's start with some of the more artsy films-- there are two films from this year which have been making waves for their leading performances: Mr. Turner and Still Alice. Mr. Turner stars character actor Timothy Spall, who is probably best known for playing Wormtail in the Harry Potter films, but he has been around forever, playing supporting roles with aplomb. But, in Mr. Turner, he gets a starring role as the British painter J.M.W. Turner. It's a masterful performance, which puts Spall center stage, and which won him the Best Actor award at Cannes. Turner, as played by Spall, is an absolute enigma: he is portrayed not unlike a feral pig. He's crass, he's disgusting, he's rude, he's generally rough around the edges. And yet he creates beautiful masterpieces. Director and writer Mike Leigh finds lovely contrast by plopping Turner into the world of high society. Because of his talent, he is surrounded by those who are nothing like him. He always seems out of place, but no one ever acknowledges it. It's an odd film, admittedly, and I know some critics have dismissed it as being too aimless. Nothing much happens-- there isn't exactly a plot, and we don't see much actual change in Turner as the film goes on. But there are some absolute gems in this film (one scene where a group of people talk about gooseberries was one of the funniest scenes of the year) and it is absolutely gorgeous to watch (it is a serious contender for a cinematography nod-- some shots look like they were plucked from off of one of Turner's canvases). And, of course, there's Spall. The film has kind of come and gone, and while Spall was once seen as a dark horse contender for an Oscar nomination, the competitive field seems to have left him out of the running. Watch the film and you'll understand why that's such a shame.

Timothy Spall in the performance of his career.

Julianne Moore--the leading performer in Still Alice, however, is seen as a frontrunner to actually win the Oscar, and it's obvious why. She has been handed a challenging gift of a role as Alice Howland, a professor who is undergoing early-onset Alzheimer's. It's the sort of role that makes the Oscars salivate, but Moore truly does rise to the occasion, giving an assured performance that is profoundly touching. The attention being paid to the film seems to primarily be surrounding her performance, but I feel that the film as a whole is worthwhile. It's a very powerful look at how a condition such as this can affect a family, and the movie feels very real-- you get to know not only Alice, but her entire family, and feel for them as the Alzheimer's worsens. Alec Baldwin does nice work as Alice's husband, but the true standout is Kristen Stewart, who plays one of Alice's daughters. At one point, there was some early buzz that Stewart might get Oscar consideration and I would have loved for this to have been true. 1) she's very good in the film and 2) it would finally have shut up those whose entire conception of Stewart's talent is based on her performance in the Twilight films. I've got some news for you: EVERYONE is bad in the Twilight films, but other actors have had a chance to actually demonstrate their talent elsewhere. People don't seem to want to give Stewart that chance, but they would if they saw this film. Still Alice is a remarkably real portrayal of a family in crisis, and one of the more genuinely moving and restrained films of the year.

Julianne Moore and Kristen Stewart's strong performances are the foundation that holds Still Alice together.

The high number of quality films has also meant that my choices this year are decidedly predictable-- very artsy and stuff. Which means that I was left with no room for some of the bigger blockbuster films of the year-- the more commercial stuff, which I thought was truly great. Superheroes had a strong showing this year, and while Marvel seems to have a disaster coming its way with its upcoming Ant Man trainwreck, both of its offerings this year continued to expand upon its impressive franchise. Captain America II: The Winter Soldier had just the right amount of substance to make the film have important commentary, while still being the enjoyable popcorn flick we hoped it would be. Guardians of the Galaxy was an absolute revelation, which brought the Marvel film world into decidedly weirder territory--it was without a doubt one of the most enjoyable films of the year, and full of heart and humor. And it had a talking tree voiced by Vin Diesel who somehow became one of the best characters of the year.

"I am...oh gosh, what's my line again? Sorry, guys." -Vin Diesel

But my favorite superhero film of the year was actually none of those two--it was the animated Big Hero 6, which, like Guardians, features a rag-tag team of superheroes. It will probably lose the Animated Feature Oscar to the more popular The Lego Movie, but I hope this film gets at least some recognition. It is filled with a lot of heart, a lot of action, and some really great storytelling. Big Hero 6 was a huge surprise to me-- I could not have imagined I'd love it as much as I did--but it ended up being far and away my favorite kid's film of the year.

A still from either Big Hero 6 or Foxcatcher, not sure which.

But the film I was most upset did not make my best of the year list was probably Jon Favreau's Chef. I simply loved this movie, which missed out on being named one of the best of the year for the same reason it was so good-- its simplicity. The film follows renowned chef Carl Casper, a once-exciting chef on the American food scene whose recent work has been seen as derivative and less than stellar. After a breakdown where he yells at a critic (and it predictably goes viral) Carl decides to return to his roots, and tours across the country making simple food with his son and his best friend (Emjay Anthony and John Leguizamo). This s where Chef shines. It's a very personal film for Favreau, who wrote, directed, and stars in the film as Casper. The film is rather clearly based on his own life-- he was once seen as an innovative and hip upstart filmmaker and a champion of the indie film world, but who has since gone decidedly more commercial, finding success with the first two Iron Man films. And many have attacked him as "selling out," (and, let's be honest, Cowboys & Aliens was really ripped to shreds by audiences and critics alike). The film is meant to be a simple-- with Favreau simply focusing on telling a small story well. Sure, it has flaws (only Favreau would have cast Scarlett Johansson and Sofia Vergara as Jon Favreau's love interests) but it's just so charming that it's an absolutely winning film. And the best part is the food. The film obviously features many scenes where Carl prepares food, and these sequences are absolutely stunning, and truly lovingly done. We see Carl making food in his Michelin-starred restaurant, and it looks beautiful. Then we see him making a grilled cheese sandwich for his son, and it's just as beautiful. Food, like art, can bring people together. And with Chef, Favreau made one of the best films about food ever made-- it showcases the way food can bring us together. I'm a self-professed "foodie" so I will admit that this film played right into my interests, but it is undeniably worth seeing if only for the sheer enthusiasm with which is handles its subject matter, and themes of food, family, and fulfillment.

The hardworking food-truck team in Chef. This movie will make you crave a Cuban Sandwich like you won't believe.

The last film I want to mention here is The Imitation Game, the Alan Turing biopic starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Keira Knightley. Unlike the other films I've listed here, it is not one of my honorable mentions, but it is a very good film and I wanted to talk about it nonetheless. The film is a serious awards powerhouse, and I'm sure we will see it appear many times when Oscar nominations are announced. And it is a very good film. But, it strikes me as a film that would be more at home amongst last year's cinematic offerings. The Imitation Game is well made, well acted, well told, and generally well done. Turing is a fascinating historical figure and it's great that his story is being told, and being told in such a quality film (another awards contender-- the Stephen Hawking biopic The Theory of Everything is decidedly not as strong of a film, despite a strong performance from Eddie Redmayne). But, as much as I liked The Imitation Game, when I left the theater, I didn't think about it again. My thoughts about the film ended as soon as the film did. And that's why, despite the fact that it seems like a film the Oscars would gravitate towards consistently, I'm pretty convinced that The Imitation Game will end up somewhat empty-handed in terms of actual awards. It is the safe choice, but other, more innovative films are starting to emerge as the real contenders. After all, the best picture winner usually is linked with the best director category, and director Morten Tyldum has not been getting any awards recognition at all.  

The technically proficient The Imitation Game failed to to innovate, and that's why it falls short.

The Imitation Game is a great movie. I can't say anything bad about it, to be honest, but at the same time, it is not even close to being one of my favorite films of the year. And I feel that it can demonstrate what makes the films I have selected stand out. Unlike The Imitation Game, the films I will be naming and discussing in the coming days stay with you. They are films that I still think about, they are films that I continue to reassess in my mind. They are films one can watch over and over again. They are films that benefit from being discussed, and films which two people can experience in vastly different ways. They are works of art. And I'm excited to talk about them with you.

And, no, Winter's Tale will not be appearing anywhere on my list.

Here are my picks for the best films of the year:
11: Selma
10: Foxcatcher
9: Whiplash 
8: Nightcrawler 
7: Gone Girl
6: The Babadook  
5: The Grand Budapest Hotel
4: Boyhood
3: Begin Again   
2: Snowpiercer
1: Birdman