34 Days to Go: Precariously Precious/Mo'Nique = Oscar

(NOTE: Sorry I got this posted late...kids, snow, ya know. And yes, I am aware of the apostrophe, but come on!)

Yes, the longest journey begins with a single step. It's the day after Oscar nominations, and I begin my annual pilgrimage to watch, and write about, the Academy Award nominees. All of them. And this year, oh joy, all 10 of them! 

We begin with Precious.

True to Paul Brower's (my little Precious) critique below, it seems that another villain is heading toward Oscar gold.

Paul went on a diatribe about villains, claiming that not only are they easier to portray than protagonists, but also that the depth of evil within them is more vital to a film than heroism or strength. 

He calls upon a few Oscar-caliber baddies. Yet, Bardem's murderous Dutch Boy in No Country and Ledger's new-age, peeling painted Joker (I have yet to see Basterds, so I cannot comment on Walz's stone-cold Nazi) have one thing in common: a resume of destruction so consummate, it is otherwordly, almost cartoonish. Bardem played a ruthless, stoic predator. Ledger played a lunatic who also dressed the part. Their reign of terror is so encompassing that the protagonists, as well as the audience, can only cower and pray. The hero's job is to stop an insanity so wicked that Susan Powter would leave town.  

As a film, Precious, fell short of my expectations. Meandering and filled with generalities, it failed to stand or deliver (ahem). Though admittedly, Paula Patton is much, much, much easier on the eyes than James Edward Olmos. It also seemed to perpetuate some of the stereotypes it aimed to expose. The nurse, the teacher, the professionals...all light-skinned. The abused, the abuser, the accessories to abuse...all dark skinned. One African American critic, acknowledging this disparity in skin tone, hailed that the movie was: "a set back in cinematic portrayals of blacks." He even compared it to Birth of a Nation, a film in which the Ku Klux Klan (literally) marches in and runs out the "sex-starved darkies." Yikes.

While my assessment is less historically scathing, I found the casting for the film to be both curious and unforgivable. Was it an oversight? Or is Daniel's making some sort of indictment of color? Was he hoping we'd notice. Either way, I couldn't get over it. It eclipsed the film's theme. It even eclipsed the fact that Mariah Carey, everyone's favorite public drunk and cleavage purveyor, actually delivered a solid performance as a haggard social worker.

The film is saved from racially-charged cliche by two factors.

One: Lee Daniel's inspired "fantasy" scenes that occur in Precious' imagination. Precious escapes, as we all do, in daydreams of glamour and celebrity. She escapes, as I do, to a soundtrack of early 90s hip-pop (word to Bobby B and Heavy D, the overweight lover MC). These fanatasies provide a ying to the brutual yang of Precious' reality. Bad news accumulates on Precious faster than a Cape May County blizzard. Without these scenes, it would definitely be too much for most viewers to stomach. With them, it is probably too much for most viewers to stomach.

Two: a movingly powerful performance by MoNique. Her welfare mom is a vicous villain on the level with any of Brower's allusions, even Bardem and Ledger. She's a vile and reprehensible woman. She chucks infants. She chucks televisions. She chucks pots and pans. And, she dances to disco with hairy armpits. She hurts everyone in her wake. She hurts animals, kids and old people. Her selfishness and misguidance knows no bounds. Yet, when she cries, during the climatic, final confrontation with her wayward daughter, the effects are crushing. MoNique breathes both evil and humanity into this portrait of destitution and creates a character that will haunt audiences way after the film fades. The product is a masterpiece of acting. MoNique anchors the anguish in Precious, not only the character, but also the film. MoNique deserves and likely will become only the fourth African American woman to win a Best Supporting Actress Oscar. Hopefully, this truth about race and color will prevail where the truth of Precious failed.

Can you put a price on your Dreams?

"The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is an upcoming fantasy film directed by Terry Gilliam and written by Gilliam and Charles McKeown. The film follows the leader of a travelling theatre troupe who, having made a deal with the Devil, takes audience members through a magical mirror to explore their imaginations."
-Wiki



(...looks a hell of a lot better than 'Alice'! p.s. Tom Waits as "Devil", lol)

Delicately Campaigning for a Star now Departed

Heath Ledger R.I.P.

Nolan, "He will be eternally missed, but he will never be forgotten."

Any thoughts on the article (it was homework for those who forgot)

Dark Knight as Dark Horse

You are still all abuzz over Dark Knight. You are still very mad at me for calling it, "meh."

Some defensive notes:

This isn't my first rodeo.

This is not the first time I have watched the Joker revitalize a Batman franchise. Joker on the cover of Batman books sales better than not having him on the cover. Caesar Romero stole the scenes of the 60s television show. Nicholson's The Joker was the best part of the 90s Tim Burton movie. The Joker drives the franchise...and the plot. He always has.

It's the Joker who kills Robin. The Joker burns Arkham. He tortures and paralyzes Commissioner Gordon's daughter in the "Killing Joke," a comic that in defied all the "rules" of graphic novels and reinvented the Joker character as a cruel, murderous lunatic instead of "the clown prince of crime" who gagged his way through the 60s and 70s.

Part of the Joker's appeal is simple. People fear clowns. Plus, no other Batman villain is worth his weight in intimidation. The Penguin? Waddling into your nightmares without flight? Horrifying. The Riddler? Oh no! Not riddles! Riddles makes me think of sitting next to my grandfather after one too many Amaretto sours. What's next, Crossword Man? King Tut? For real? The Scarecrow? Scary...for crows. Why not develop Stiff Breeze Guy. Mr. Freeze? Sounds like Shop-Rite's brand of popsicles.

None of these evil-doers pack the punch of the Joker. The Joker is the end all of Batman, and much like Heath Ledger's character points out, Batman can't kill Joker...without killing himself.

So sitting down to watch Dark Knight exclusively for the Joker is not a new experience. But questions persist. Ledger's performance is powerful. His Joker's contribution to the canon is intensity. This Joker makes us more tense, even upset than any other incarnation of the character. Even Nicholson, who made a career out of playing psycho, draws a more a more relieving  Joker. His one-liners and purpleness allows the audience to share in an internal smile. Ledger, with his lumbering gait, crack-addict mouth and streaked make-up, never indulges us with even a small wink.

This is all Ledger. He was a truly gifted actor. His legacy should rest more firmly in Ang Lee's gorgeous Brokeback Mountain. His portrayal of a man tortured by his personal truth is nothing short of breath-taking. The Joker is a solid addition to his legacy, but it should not define it.
 

And so goes Dark Knight. It's an excellent super hero movie, but is it more than that? Ledger's performance is great, but is it an Oscar-worthy? Is Dark Knight itself an Oscar-caliber film (Ebert and the NYT both place it pretty high on the "maybe" list)? 

Maybe the value of these questions are eclipsed by a larger one: Would Dark Knight be the Oscar contender it is if not for Ledger's tragic death? In other words, if Ledger were alive, well and starring in a period piece opposite Kate Winslet this Spring, would we be having an Oscar conversation about this movie?

Consideration of these and other questions will drive our conversation of Dark Knight.