Author: Steve Schweighofer

Millions more people have died of ailments caused by cigarette smoke than by all terrorist attacks in every country since time began, so when Michael Mann opens his film about tobacco industry whistleblower Jeffery Wigand (Russell Crowe) with CBS producer Lowell Bergman (Al Pacino) preparing a 60 Minutes interview with Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah, cleric and cheerleader for suicide bombers, Mann had me at “hello.”

In Summer of Sam, Two sets of young Italian-American couples, Vinny (John Leguizamo) and Dionna (Mira Sorvino), and Richie (Adrien Brody) and Ruby (Jennifer Esposito)…

The bard was not only brilliant at loftier themes like self-awareness, politics and the contemplation of the many forms of love, he could also mash-up horror, sex, violence, torture and cannibalism with the best of them – then and now. And he does it all in iambic pentameter, the playwrights’ equivalent to Ginger Rogers doing everything her partner does, only backwards and in heels.

The entire seduction takes us in and ultimately makes us, the audience, accessories to the crimes of a likeable, lonely and extremely troubled young man. And we guiltily enjoy every minute of it.

Distributors may have a stranglehold on some festivals, but art is like water – it finds the path of least resistance and eventually makes its way through, under and around the barriers to reach the thirsty. If filmmakers can reach audiences without bowing to the pressure of having to be “the best” or winning an award, so much the better.

Every film-lover owes Martin Scorsese much gratitude for his magnificent personal filmography, but for his dedicated efforts to preserving the work of others, worldwide, for future audiences to experience? We owe him everything.

As Jesus hangs from the cross in agony, fulfilling his duty, a child appears to temporarily remove his spirit and guide him through “what could be”, should he decide to forsake his destiny. What he presents to Jesus is a logical and simple argument, a promise of a normal, long-lived life filled with love, children and, most appealing, normalcy. It’s a fantastic, life-affirming sequence and, unfortunately, one that drove the Christian purists absolutely nuts.

When the opening credits begin in Raging Bull and we see a distant, hooded figure in the smoke-filled ring in warm-up sparring mode – presented in cosmic slow motion and set to the celestial “Intermezzo” from Cavalleria rusticana and the pop of flashbulbs – we sense that we are entering untrod territory.

Lina Wertmüller will open your mind, make you laugh, wince, and, at some point, probably piss you off. She was a force in 20th Century filmmaking, and the likes of Jane Campion, Sophia Coppola, Kathryn Bigelow and Greta Gerwig owe her a huge abbracciare for the path she carved through the male-dominated jungle of film directing.

Oscar is a snapshot in time, a prom queen, the MVP of a game. It’s borderline idol worship by those in pursuit of “winning”, a validation that our tastes are in sync for some, a betting competition for many, and a glammed-up sideshow of camp for the rest of us.

I’m not a fan of “top tens” because they are living, breathing, ever-changing organisms, but I’ll play along and share a current snapshot of my own personal favorites from 2017.

Heath Ledger is the only Nolan lead actor to reap critical acclaim and top it all off with an Oscar – posthumously. No glad-handing parties, talk show campaigning, no bullshit falderal that puffs from these proceedings like a bad case of gas. It was his performance, pure and simple, that overcame, for one brief moment, AMPAS’ distaste for both the genre and actors his age.

Status in the industry, body of work, relevance and “importance” of the character, and, ultimately, how the Academy wants to be viewed, all come into play. All are understandable, with one exception – that is the reverse ageism that exists specifically targeted at male actors. Unlike the other three acting categories, there is not a single portrayal of a character under 30 in Oscar’s Best Lead Actor lexicon.

The most appropriate metaphor for the Oscar race is probably the image of a cattle drive, with PR staff working overtime to herd as many voters as possible into one’s own corral. What is the most effective strategy for this? Concentrating on the perception that one’s vote does not necessarily reflect what is best in film, but what best represents the collective self-image of AMPAS voters from selections of a particular season.