The Oscars: Partial Predictions on Who Should Take Home a Golden Boy (Part Two)

As I have not seen every nominated film, we're going to just jump right into the categories I can speak to with some semblance of authority.

Cinematography: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford; Atonement; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly; No Country for Old Men; There Will Be Blood
Here's where the sweep begins to take shape. While No Country for Old Men has a beautiful opening sequence, with loving portraits of the West Texas landscape filmed with a subtlety that is the exact opposite of the brutality to come, There Will Be Blood seems to be channeling a film style from a forgotten time. There's no typical P.T. Anderson camera antics here. Instead, the razzle dazzle here comes from the uber-performance from Daniel Day-Lewis, which I'll get to in a bit. All the elements of filmmaking align here, from the art direction, to the costume design, to the musical score, and the camera composition and placement makes each shot look like artwork.

Art Direction: American Gangster; Atonement; The Golden Compass; Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street; There Will Be Blood
There Will Be Blood should win this category, because it is my pick to sweep this year's ceremony, and everything in this movie, from the pencils used to write the daily ledgers to the atmosphere of an early 20th Century bar and grill are exquisitely mapped out. But the winner will likely be Sweeney Todd. This film has been overlooked in the major categories (Film, Director), and this may be the sympathy win for the Tim Burton-helmed musical. If one looks at this move from a technical standpoint, it truly is a marvel the lengths the filmmakers went through to create this dark version of 19th Century London (I only know this because after seeing the movie, I watched a 30-minute behind the scenes documentary about its production). However, I probably shouldn't count out Atonement, since it looks to have Oscar written all over it.

Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett (I'm Not There); Ruby Dee (American Gangster); Saoirse Ronan (Atonement); Amy Ryan (Gone Baby Gone); Tilda Swinton (Michael Clayton)
God Bless Ruby Dee, but I don't quite understand the nomination here. Is it because she's the first actor who has been able to slap around Denzel Washington since Cary Elwes in Glory? Good stuff, but I wasn't floored by her performance. Amy Ryan was incredible in Gone Baby Gone, and I hear Cate Blanchett is quite good in the Dylan film but may only be nominated here because she's one of the greatest actors alive and because she plays a man. Sorry, Saoirse; I'm sure you're quite good in it, but you'd have to actually pay me money to see Atonement. And by money, I mean Blackwater-type contract money. My choice is Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton. She so perfectly portrays the soulless corporate Master of the Universe -- from the automaton manner in which she practices for a recruiting video, to her cold, then indignant, then embarrassing interaction with George Clooney in the movie's climax. And the whole laying out of the clothes on the bed, girdle and all, is the sort of bare bones, raw, and unbridled acting that separates the wheat from the chaff. It's the sort of scene that a mere movie star would balk at as image-crushing, but a true actor like Swinton uses to further engulf herself into a character.

Best Supporting Actor: Casey Affleck (The Assassination of Jesse James...); Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men); Philip Seymour Hoffman (Charlie Wilson's War); Hal Holbrook (Into the Wild); Tom Wilkinson (Michael Clayton)
Another tough category. Bardem's Anton Chigurgh will go down as one of cinema's greatest villains, with the the air pump, the modified shotgun, and the fucked up hairdo that only a serial killer could love. Hoffman's portrayal of a CIA operative in Charlie Wilson's War is the kind of rogue, anti-Establishment performance that makes you silently pump your fist in "stick it to the Man" approval, despite the fact that the character facilitates all the things that makes the Man the Man. Wilkinson does wonders as a bat shit crazy corporate attorney who has seen the billion dollar error of his firm's ways and tries to make good (by shedding his clothes, buying lots of French bread, and blowing the mother of all whistles). I really liked what he did here a great deal. But the performance that tore my heart out of my chest and stomped on it was Hal Holbrook in Into the Wild. While he was only in the film for maybe 20 minutes, his presence capped off an incredible journey for Emile Hirsch's 'Alexander Supertramp'. By the time Holbrook emerges in the film, he serves as a kind of lookingglass for viewers; this is the man who Christopher McCandless/Alexander Supertramp would've essentially become, had he not eaten those fucked up berries in the Alaskan outback. I may have lost a pint of tears in the few moments these two characters shared on-screen, and just thinking about it makes me tear up again. Into the Wild is this year's tragically overlooked film, with Grade-A performances from all players. An Oscar for Holbrook would be an Oscar for all those involved with this film.

Best Actress: Cate Blanchett (Elizabeth: The Golden Age); Julie Christie (Away From Her); Marion Cotillard (La Vie en Rose); Laura Linney (The Savages); Ellen Page (Juno)
The toughest category this side of Best Picture, if only because I haven't seen any of the movies. So this, here, is a prediction in the truest sense of the word. Blanchett, nominated twice this year, picks up this nod for a film in which she revisits the role that won her a nomination ten years ago. This movie is allegedly a colossal disappointment, so I'm thinking it's not going to happen for Blanchett this year. Julie Christie won an Oscar some 42 years ago. Been there, done that. Laura Linney -- I love Laura Linney. She has the cutest dimples. Would love to see her win. But voters will probably be like, "Didn't she win for As Good As It Gets?", which sucks because it puts her in that Laura Linney/Helen Hunt-Erika Christensen/Julia Stiles-Amy Adams/Isla Fisher vortex of mistaken identity. A win for the Canadian Ellen Page would be a marvelous way to give the finger to the current spate of dime-a-dozen, boozy, bipolar blondes who have no discernible skill or talent, but seem to be the template for the modern young American woman. A win for Page might prompt the Lohans and the Albas and the other 20something she-dolts in Hollywood to implore their agents to find them something Juno-esque... which could have hilariously awful results, but keep them off Hollywood streets long enough to clear traffic from Ventura Blvd. to the 405 for once (god damned stalkerazzi and their intrusive douchebaggery). I'm taking a leap and saying Marion Cotillard will win here, because it looks like she shaved her eyebrows for the role, and for an industry steeped in vanity, that's saying something. Okay, so I'm going with Cotillard, and, yeah, I didn't see the film, but je ne regret rein.

Best Actor: George Clooney (Michael Clayton); Daniel Day-Lewis (There Will Be Blood); Johnny Depp (Sweeney Todd...); Tommy Lee Jones (In the Valley of Elah); Viggo Mortensen (Eastern Promises)
George Clooney has certainly come into his own as an actor and a creative force in the past several years. My admiration for him rivals my admiration for guys like Hanks, Washington, and Nicholson. Clooney's mere presence as an actor has reached that level where you could, say, film him in the back seat of a cab, without dialogue, for several minutes, put it on screen, and it would be riveting... which is exactly what director Tony Gilroy does in Michael Clayton. This is George Clooney's greatest role to date, better than the Oscar-winning turn in Syriana. I could wax poetic for hours about how awesome his character is, how well he played it, and how the final, final scene in the movie is the best cinematic depiction ever of a man realizing he has transcended his demons. Too bad for Clooney that Daniel Day-Lewis re-emerged this year with one of the best performances in the history of film. Watching Day-Lewis as Daniel Plainview made me think that it is the filmgoing equivalent taking a blow to the face by a Mike Tyson or a Sonny Liston. You shake your head and your eyes bug out in fear and amazement, and then you get pounded again, and again, and again, and stumble out of the ring not quite able to articulate that which you just experienced. All you know is that the impact is greater than anything you can readily recall. But enough with the metaphors. Congratulations to Daniel Day-Lewis.

Best Director: Julien Schnabel (The Diving Bell and the Butterfly); Jason Reitman (Juno); Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton); Joel and Ethan Coen (No Country for Old Men); Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood)
Well, shit. Each of these films represents a great cinematic achievement. Schnabel's Diving Bell is able to tell a story from the POV of a man who can only communicate by blinking one eye. Reitman's Juno apparently redefines the teen movie by taking the taboo subject of teen pregnancy and creating a humorous, uplifting story where no one dies in the end. Gilroy's first directorial effort takes the sensibilities of great, character-driven films of the 70s and updates it for the Aughts. The Coen Brothers created a piece of cinematic literature with No Country to great effect -- their best film since Fargo. However... Paul Thomas Anderson is the true virtuoso here, and the Award for the year's best film should always be propped up by an Award for its director. There will be fawning over the final category...

Best Picture: Atonement; Juno; Michael Clayton; No Country for Old Men; There Will Be Blood
Clayton, Country, and Blood are all great films. Each of them will soon have a place in my growing DVD collection. Michael Clayton is pitch perfect in its performances, its pacing, and its subtlety. It's not preachy, despite what's at stake plot-wise. What could have been a Traffic-esque harangue about the ills of corporate malfeasance, coverups and the curse of the almighty dollar ended up being the story of a man at the end of his rope who pulls up the bootstraps for one last go 'round in a battle to regain his true self. No Country For Old Men looks like an epic with the brilliant opening shots, but ends up being quite muted and downright brutal in its exploration of process, morals, and personal code. Despite what seems to be slow pacing and sparse, quirky dialogue (which, refreshingly, doesn't annoy), this film is always moving forward. In a sense, this is a top-notch chase film where the hunt never truly ceases, until the abrupt ending.

But I tell you, There Will Be Blood is an American masterpiece. I'd go so far as to say I haven't seen anything like it since Citizen Kane. From the jarring opening, with the screeching ante-crescendo of its bizarre musical score, to the ultra-violent shocker of an ending, this movie is so good it's scary. Cinematography-wise, Anderson is able to keep his camera in one place for the most part -- none of that whiplash virtuosity of Magnolia or that Just-Make-An-Edit-Already eight minute tracking shot gimmickry of Boogie Nights. Narratively, he tells an epic story of the rise of an oil titan, but the epic narrative happens within the lead character. The turning point, where the audience truly sees they've got a madman on their hands, is when Plainview confesses how much he hates people, and not just people, but everybody. His sole objective is to make enough money where he doesn't have to be around anyone, ever. "There's a whole ocean of oil under there," Plainview proclaims at one point, while his newly tapped well spews forth flaming black gold. "No one can get at it but me!!" Even while his son is bed-ridden after being rendered deaf by the sheer power of that very oil well's initial burst, the only thing Plainview truly cares about is getting that oil, getting his money, and getting the hell out of Dodge. One critic, speaking recently on Charlie Rose, said that Daniel Plainview is essentially Capitalism, personified. One could say the same about Gordon Gekko and Charles Foster Kane, but Day-Lewis's Plainview is someone entirely different. It's not really a super ego or a need to be loved at play here (no ego would stand for the humiliation at the pulpit he receives at the hands of the young preacher Eli), but rather the id (without any of the sexual implications). Inside, Plainview is as black as the oil for which he drills. He doesn't seek out acceptance, he is an oilman, he is a gross manipulator, he is a drinker of milkshakes. I love this movie. I can't stop thinking about this movie. This movie is the Best Picture of the year.

I'm finished!