2008: A bad year for film?

As the focus turns to the potential runners and riders for next year's Academy Awards, it's dawned on me that the vast majority of the films for your consideration have not yet appeared in UK cinemas. This, in turn, provoked the highly worrying thought that we'd just gone through the whole year without actually seeing anything worthy of an Oscar nod. Of course, having a host of unseen contenders at this stage is quite normal, given that studios tend to release their most plaudit-worthy productions late on, so as to coincide with the awards countdown. Still, with all hopes now pinned on this batch of imminent, midwinter releases, I'm drawn to conclude that up until now, critics haven't had much else to get excited about in 2008.

Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/donnagrayson/108163337/

I touched on this earlier, when looking at the suprisingly warm critical reception for Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler, winner of the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in September. While there was general agreement that this simple and conventional story, centered around a formerly washed-up male lead, was well made and well acted, it was also the opinion of various bemused critics that there had been a lack of big-name competition in Venice, and that as a result, the festival had been a particularly unspectacular affair.

Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler

Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/antwrangler/2835652665/

Various explanations could be offered to account for a year that fell flat. The Writers Guild of America strike between November 2007 and February 2008 could be blamed for its troublesome disruptions, as could various other unforseen delays to long-anticipated projects.

For me, though, the biggest let-downs have been the tame offerings of a normally provocative filmmaking elite. This year Martin Scorsese's only movie was the straightforward, concert-covering Rolling Stones documentary, Shine a Light. Oliver Stone kept his partisan rage in check and in doing so, failed to make a point with W. The Coen brothers, while displaying typical originality and wit, were also in deliberately silly and opaque mode on Burn After Reading, thereby producing something instantly disposable (granted, this was probably also their intention). And Spielberg returned from a three-year directing hiatus to the pointless end of a fourth and inferior addition to the Indiana Jones franchise.

Anyway, let me know what you think of my review of the year, below. With the Oscars in mind there's a bias here towards English-speaking, mainstream fare, and all dates and information are for the UK. And despair not, for there are some highlights mixed in with the lowlights.

Woody Allen directs Larry David? Woo and Hoo!

In my daily sweep of the film sites, I suddenly got very excited to see a photo of a balding, ageing, Jewish man in glasses looking miserable. Well two balding, ageing, miserable-looking Jewish guys in glasses really because as these pictures show, the bittersweet comedy of Woody Allen and Larry David is being combined in a new movie, Whatever Works .

Couldn't find too many details on the plotline as yet, but whatever it is, this film promises much as a collaboration of grumpy talent. Allen has become known as a hit-and-miss director in recent times, but with a lead as in-tune with his glass-half-empty outlook on life as David, the odds must surely be stacked in favour of a hit. Most importantly, David has long been the funniest guy on TV via the taboo-breaking profanity and mishap hilarity of his sitcom Curb Your Enthusiasm.

The numerous similiarities between the pair might lead one to wonder why Allen didn't just cast himself in the lead role, as he did in some of his best work (Annie Hall, Manhattan). But I'm inclined to say its a blessing given that David won't be prone to the kind of morose self-obsession that Allen sometimes indulged in when acting in his own films. On the other hand, Allen will be able to provide the pathos and romance usually left out of Curb. Yeah I'm gonna stick my neck out and say that this film should be pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good. (Fans of Curb should get that).

Come-back kings do it best

Mickey Rourke's Oscar-tempting, career-reviving turn in the new Darren Aronofsky film, The Wrestler, has once again proven the power of the on-screen come-back. Rourke's performance as burnt-out pro wrestler Randy 'the Ram' Robinson is a clear example of how an actor can use a role - and the parallels it has with their own life - as a cathartic way of confronting years of inner turmoil or professional humiliation. As this article in The Guardian shows, in Rourke's case it was both. Just as Robinson once had a high-flying career on the professional circuit - now forced to work in a supermarket to make ends meet - so too was Rourke the hot new talent of the 80s who lost everything in the haze of a hellraiser lifestyle and some bad career choices, forced to live off handouts at one point and even quiting acting to take up professional boxing in 1990. In terms of personal parallels, Robinson tries to heal relations with his estranged daughter after years of neglect just as Rourke, now living alone in California, was a mess for years as he tried hopelessly to win back his ex-wife after a divorce in 1998 ended a tempestuous marriage. It's clear to see, then, why Rourke was able to invest such raw emotion in the part and in this spirit of acting as therapy, I thought I'd take a look at a few other notable come-back performances where the role had a particular resonance for the actor in question.

"It's such a nice feeling to feel proud again, not to be living in shame and disgrace and failure"

Rourke, speaking in an interview with The Guardian

• John Travolta in Pulp Fiction (1994)

After his late 70s heart-throb heyday of Saturday Night Fever and Grease, Travolta wandered the movie wilderness for over 15 years, appearing in a series of inferior imitations that never recaptured those star-making moments. By the time Pulp Fiction came around, Travolta was sharing the billing with talking dogs in Look Who's Talking Now. Praise be for a director as ballsy as Tarantino then, who gambled on his casting and gave Travolta the chance to rediscover his effortless cool as gangster Vincent Vega. Through long, greasy hair and some iconic jiving with Uma Thurman, he played up to his 70s-reject image and delivered Tarintino's streetwise dialogue with likeable nonchalance. The role gave Travolta the proverbial adrenaline shot in the heart, spawning further parts as charismatic tough guys in hits like Get Shorty and Face-Off.

Best scene: Putting some moves down with Thurman

Picture courtesy of http://miramax.com/home.html

• Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet (1986)

The famous story goes that when David Lynch was casting parts for his insidious suburban nightmare, Blue Velvet, he received a call from an eager Dennis Hopper who, having read the script, succeeded in convincing Lynch that not only was he suitable to play the role of psychopath Frank Booth, but that he was Frank Booth. It was exactly the kind of manic part that Hopper needed to vent his manic energy and in Booth he conjured up a villain of unfiltered sadism and perversion. Riding on the crest of the counter-culture wave in 1969 with his revolutionary directorial debut, Easy Rider, Hopper proceeded to blow it in the ensuing decade as rampant drink and drug addictions, manifested in an eight-day marriage to the actress Michelle Phillips in 1970 and an arrest for fleeing the scene of a car accident in 1975, took hold. It was a jittery cameo in Apocalypse Now in 1979 that first opened up the possibility for Hopper to turn deep internal angst into gripping on-screen performance and a period of rehab and improved film work in the early 80s culminated in his devastatingly good turn in Blue Velvet. Frank Booth brought Hopper back in from the Hollywood cold and reaffirmed him as a cinematic force to be reckoned with. The performance also bagged him a series of later parts as unhinged bad guys in the likes of Speed and TV show 24.

Best Scene: Trapped in a bizarre, transfixed state as a buddy mimes to "In Dreams" by Roy Orbison

Picture courtesy of http://www.mgm.com/title_title.php?title_star=bluevelv

• Kim Basinger in LA Confidential (1997)

Not taken seriously, to the point of derision, for the majority of her Hollywood career, Basinger swooped in out of nowhere to become the Oscar-winning starlet of an an all-time classic. Appearing in the title role of TV movie Katie: Portrait of a Centerfold as a young actress in 1978, Basinger was to be the serial victim of her own stunning looks for almost two decades, regularly cast as the blonde eye-candy used to sex-up flimsy thrillers and psychological dramas. Scoffed-at flops like Nine 1/2 Weeks with Mickey Rourke and The Getaway with future husband (and divorcee) Alec Baldwin, scored Basinger five Razzie worst actress nominations before Curtis Hanson came-a-calling with LA Confidential. The role of vulnerable seductress Lynn Bracken, a high-class hooker made to look like 50s movie star Veronica Lake, was the perfect fodder for Basinger to explore her own belittlement as a sex object seeking credibility. Imbuing the role with strong-willed grace, she sparked dynamite sexual chemistry with the excellent ensemble of male leads, all the while matching them for intellect and determination. Well-worthy of the accolades, Basinger went on to do further impressive work in Hanson's next film, 8 mile, but with a string of further flops, she had the highly dubious honour of being nominated 'Worst Razzie Loser of our First 25 Years' in 2005. Still, with an Oscar to polish and a femme fatale for the ages, I guess Basinger can have the last laugh.

Best scene: Being questioned by Officer Bud White (Russell Crowe). Warning: explicit language

Picture Courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/nickslidepics/1988509181/

This post was written by Jonathan Bacon. You can contact Jonathan at Jbacon@uclan.ac.uk

Aronofsky learns that simple works best for critics

The buzz in film cyberspace on Friday was all about the trailer for Darren Aronofsky's new film, The Wrestler. Golden Lion winner at the Venice Film Festival in September and adorned with rave reviews by those there to see it, the film stars Mickey Rourke as an ageing, well, wrestler, struggling with angst-ridden personal relationships as he prepares for one final, redemptive shot at glory in the ring. Add in the background travails of blue-collar life and cynical critics - the kind that savaged Aronofsky's previous film, The Fountain - could well have been drawn to dismiss this as nought more than Rocky in spandex.

So what's changed, both for Aronofsky and the critics? Being a massive fan of The Fountain, I must admit I was a little taken aback when I first heard rumblings of The Wrestler's much more conventional, zero-to-hero type plotline. For me, The Fountain had shown a young director, on only his third feature film, treating cinema as pure art form to create something truly original. But for all its dense interweaving of metaphor, emotion and imagery, the film bombed at the box office and divided opinion virtually 50/50, with the critical half almost incredulous at the conviction with which Aronofosky had seen through his vision.

Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/philgyford/386747174/

This has led me to wonder if the accolades for The Wrestler really just signal critical approval for Aronofsky reigning it in. In one respect this certainly isn't true - an auteur like Aronofsky wouldn't be dictated to by the critics, and in fact he's long shown interest at turning his hand to more mainstream, straight narrative fare (Aronofsky was hired to helm the Batman reinvention before the project fell apart and is currently working on the new Robocop movie). But I think it does show that rampant creativity and talent is only fully appreciated when it is applied to something broadly palatable. This can be seen with other young directors like Paul Thomas Anderson - experimental films like Magnolia (complete with raining frogs and coincidental split narratives) had already made him a cult hero before mainstream opinion chose to vigorously endorse him for There Will Be Blood - a film where his vision was applied to something sparse and simplistic, in the mould of a traditional western. It's just a shame, then, that some critics can't be as open-minded and adaptable as the filmmakers.

This post was written by Jonathan Bacon. You can contact Jonathan at Jbacon@uclan.ac.uk