As a sort of companion piece to last week's article, I thought this week I would look at the other side of the writing awards in 2009: Best Original Screenplay. As I've stated before, the Best Original Screenplay category is usually one that is open to cinema's more quirky films, including film's whose sole nomination comes from the category, while the Best Adapted Screenplay category is usually home to the more prestigious multi-nominated films. That's not to say this is always the case, as Best Original Screenplay usually has a few big players (proved by "The Hurt Locker"'s victory in 2009), but it is also the only category where you see movies such as 2004's "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" receive the official seal of approval from the Academy. The category then is commonly exciting (at least in terms of who gets nominated, not so much in who wins, which like most categories, is well-known going into the awards ceremony), because it is one of those rare categories that truly feels open. In this category, voters look beyond the obvious usual suspects and consider possibilities that would quickly be shot down in other categories. The result then is a category that quite often serves as a cinematic scouting report, highlighting up and coming writers and directors, such as in 2001, when both Christopher Nolan and Wes Anderson were nominated for the screenplays "Memento" and "The Royal Tenenbaums" respectively.
As audience members, an original screenplay is exciting because we have no idea what to expect. Given trailers and genre conventions, going into the movie we may have some idea of what we're about to see (especially if the film relies so heavily on traditions and cliches to the point it is "original" in name only), but what is exciting about films with original screenplays is their high standard deviation (or high level of variation for those not up in their statistics) in terms of quality. You could get a "Sucker Punch" (which if you missed my
low opinion of the film, you can catch up with by clicking here), or you could get an "Another Year" (which if you missed my high opinion of the film, you can catch up with by clicking here). It's the cinematic equivalent Russian Roulette.
In my opinion, which I made clear last week, 2009 was a relatively good year for cinema, and this includes original screenplays. In fact, with one lone exception that I will be covering in a moment, the batch of nominees the Academy came up with is excellent. These were films that really pushed the genres they operated in to new directions, truly deserving of every sense of the word "original". The Academy's nominees were actually so good, that this week's list of ideal alternatives consists of one movie, but one that was definitely an unfortunate absence. The missing piece of the puzzle was Michael Haneke's "The White Ribbon", a relentlessly gothic German film dissecting the strict, repressed roots of the generation that would become the Nazi monsters of the 20th Century. Had the film been nominated, it would have been the third nominated film in the category to make my Top 100 list (the only three films from 2009 to make my list), but given the Academy's xenophobia, the fact "The White Ribbon" missed the cut comes as no surprise. Enough day dreaming though, let's get down to business.
5. Alessandro Camon and Oren Moverman for "The Messenger"
"Which one of these things doesn't belong?" In this case, it would be without a doubt, the one mole on the otherwise beautiful face that is Best Original Screenplay 2009. Frequent readers of this blog will know that I am a sworn enemy of "realist cinema" and everything it stands for. All the little moments in life are not who we are. We are who we choose to be, the character we remember to be, which is why movies have such an impact on us. Even if the events of the movie don't include all the little things, the have the narrative, which is what drives us forward. But to "realists", this is Hollywood hyperbole, which is why they insist on blowing up the smallest details of the picture. To find something "more real", "more deep", than what was there before. This is insincere, unauthentic hogwash, and any time I see one of these films, it drives me up the wall. "The Messenger" is a high ranking official in the Realist Nazi Party (I'm thinking Hermann Goering maybe?) that believes it can shed some unique light on the tragedy and aftermath of the Iraq War and the loved ones left behind. It's ironic that this is nominated along with "The Hurt Locker", a film that basically has the same goals, but instead of taking the Realist approach, opts for a classical cinematic approach, and is infinitely more affective at getting its message across. "The Messenger" tells the story of one Staff Sergeant William Montgomery (Ben Foster) and Captain Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson), who are given the unfortunate task of informing the families of soldiers that their loved ones have died in battle. Along the way, the two men are yelled at, embraced, fight one another, get drunk together, laugh and cry together, and Montgomery starts up a relationship with the widow of a deceased veteran (played by Samantha Morton). In other words, stereo-typical melodramatic bullsh*t. At every beat of this plodding film, we know exactly what we're suppose to feel and to what level we're suppose to feel it. Like marionettes on strings. The whole idea of following along the barriers of bad news is a simple tool that allows the writers to come up with one contrivance after another, in order to ratchet up the drama at their convenience. The effect is totally counterproductive and extremely didactic, not too mention the whole "exploitation of the grieving" aspect that feels rather unseemly. It may be possible to tell the story of "messengers" such as these in a meaningful authentic way, but with the attitude these writers, they were never going to be the ones to do it.
4. Bob Peterson, Pete Docter, and Thomas McCarthy for "Up"
Pixar has probably been the most successful movie studio in the decade and a half since they got into the feature film business with "Toy Story" back in 1995, turning everything they touch into gold (in this case, pretty literally, especially with the falling dollar). They have created an enormous brand name for themselves with the public, opened a spigot flowing with an unstoppable onslaught of animated movies for kids, and earned an enormous amount of critical praise along the way (including seven Best Original Screenplay nominations). I for one, have not been as eager to jump on the Pixar bandwagon (or a "Pixar hater" if you rather), because while most of Pixar's films are mildly amusing and well produced, they also are surprisingly formulaic, with a unnecessary fixation on drawn out action sequences (which are even a step more boring than their live-action counterparts). By 2009, the only film I felt that actually deserved the heaps and heaps of admiration it received was the original "Toy Story", but this finally changed with "Up", Pixar's second best film of their filmography. What I love about "Up" is it's lack of a real story. Unlike most Pixar film's, there is no real stated goal to "Up". We're not finding anyone, or rescuing something or somebody, we don't even get a clear villain for most of the film, it's simply about a man in love with his house and the memory of his wife. A man trying to fulfill his promise. This tone is set out with a wonderful beginning (easily Pixar's best, and the best of any animated film I can think of), which quickly, but still very touchingly, plays out the life of a man and woman in love. Romanticism at its best, and very Capra-esque (a good thing in my book). While the originality of the story has since come into question, due to the surfacing of an animated French short that tells the suspiciously similar story of a man who attaches balloons to his house and flies away, in all honesty, I don't really care if it is original or not. "Up" is a superbly executed movie that is very deserving of it's nomination.
3. Mark Boal for "The Hurt Locker"
Like my favorite film from 2010, "The Social Network", what I love about "The Hurt Locker" is that it shines a light in a certain personality type that had previously seen very few (or no) screen time in cinema history. In the case of "The Hurt Locker", this personality type is someone who only feels alive when they're close to death. Someone who has to push their boundaries to the limit for them to drop the cynicism and actually give a damn about something. In this case, that would be one William James, excellently portrayed by Oscar-nominated Jeremy Renner. James is an elite member of a bomb squad unit that has the unenviable task of defusing bombs and suspicious looking IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) in war torn Iraq. The thing that makes "The Hurt Locker" so successful where countless other films on the war failed, is that "The Hurt Locker" has no obvious political agenda. There are no self-righteous Hollywood leftist speeches on the evils of war awkwardly mixed in to the narrative, there are no utterances of the phrases "blood for oil" or "WMDs", and the name George W. Bush is never once brought up. Instead, "The Hurt Locker" is a story about the real human beings closest affected by the war: the soldiers and the people of Iraq. Unlike a film like "The Messenger", "The Hurt Locker" doesn't play the role of condescending psychoanalyst, assuming to know more about its characters than they do themselves. Instead, "The Hurt Locker" is respectable to all of its characters (with the exception of the psychiatrist ironically enough), concerned first and foremost with representing them as they truly are, not as tools for an argument. "The Hurt Locker" then respects its audience as well, trusting them to take from it what they will, instead of talking down to them as insolent children. Unless we get some spectacular "Full Metal Jacket" type Iraq War film in the next few years, I am confident "The Hurt Locker" will be THE film of the Iraq War era.
2. Joel and Ethan Coen for "A Serious Man"
"A Serious Man" is classic Coen craziness, and one of the finest works of their career, which is no small feat given the indelible mark on the world of cinema they have made over the last two and a half decades since they've been making movies. The movie starts with a non sequitur ghost story set in some old Jewish village, which indicates from the very beginning of the film what level the Coens' intend to operate on. A sort of twisted modern day telling of the biblical story of Job (the Old Testament tale of God relentlessly testing Job's faith in order to prove to Satan Job's unconditional devotion to God), after the indirectly connected parable opening, the film centers on the life of Larry Gopnik (played masterfully by relative unknown Michael Stuhlbarg). Larry is professor at some unnamed Minnesotan university whose life suddenly starts to evaporate. His wife announces she wants to marry another man, his troubled brother moves in with him, his two kids constantly bicker, and he chances at gaining tenure seem more and more precarious as time goes on. This is just a sampling of the tests that are thrown at poor Larry, and as the foundations of the life he knew begin to fall apart, he begins to question the nature of life and God. He looks to anyone he can for advice on how to get through the situation, including three different Rabbis, but none can ease his mind. This all culminates in a wonderfully twisted Coen ending and one that perfectly fits the Jewish understanding of God. Needless to say, the screenplay is immaculately crafted, a work of two obviously genius minds with a lot of background in philosophy and Judaism, and while it's hard to know the exact meaning behind the movie (or though not nearly as confusing as "Barton Fink"), this is part of the fun. Much as with life, each person may have their own interpretation (my own interpretation of the film has to do with the film's reference to the Schrodinger's Cat thought experiment, google it if you don't know what it is). In fact, it's such a good script that in any normal year, it would almost certainly be ranked number one. What then, you ask, could trump a Coen Brothers Full House?
1. Quentin Tarantino for "Inglourious Basterds"
Why the Tarantino Royal Flush of course. "Inglourious Basterds" is an amazing film to behold. One of the many reasons why every single Tarantino film is an absolute masterpiece (and I mean every single film, not just as in a fanboy hyperbole way of saying "I really love Quentin Tarantino films", but in I literally believe that every one of Tarantino's seven movies are cinematic masterpieces) is his absolute love for the genre he's working in, and this is nowhere more apparent then in "Inglourious Basterds". From the use of the Morricone music, to the Mexican standoffs, to the group of elite killers sent to wreak havoc on Nazi-occupied France, to the literal inclusion of a cinema and the debuting of a film (albeit a Nazi-propaganda film), every second of this film is a love letter to cinema at its most cinematic (i.e. it's best, yet another slap in the face of Realist). The result is Tarantino's trademark heroin for the eyes and mind, an addicting experience you'll want to continually come back to. If you haven't seen the film (and shame on you if this is true), "Inglourious Basterds" tells the story of an elite group of Jewish American soldiers during World War II who are sent to conduct guerrilla warfare against the Nazis (including scalping soldiers and beating them to death with a baseball bat). In parallel, a young Jewish woman by the name of Shosanna Dreyfus, who narrowly manages to escape death at the beginning of the film, unlike the rest of her unfortunate family, plots the death of many high ranking Nazi officials at the premier of the newest Nazi propaganda film, which happens to be premiering at the movie theatre she owns. All the while, in the background of these events, the "Jew Hunter", Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz, in his breathtaking Oscar-winning performance) serves as the film's villain, and one of the greatest created characters in cinema history. "Inglourious Basterds" is truly a site to behold, and despite my high praise for the great script for "The Hurt Locker", there is no way it should have beat this film out. In the end though I'm just happy to have yet another brilliant illustration of the genius that is Quentin Tarantino. How one man can be so good at his art form I do not know, but I love every minute of it. Until the release of "Django Unchained", Tarantino's next film, I'll have to be content re-watching this epic masterpiece, which isn't too bad at all.
That's it for this week, so until next week, leave any of your comments down below.
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