FEATURE: The Oscars and the tightening Hollywood bubble

/Mashable

Fifteen years ago, American Sniper would have won Best Picture.

That may be a tad premature, but it’s safe to say that in the last decade or so, the Academy has moved far away from the very public who’s watching and betting on its awards. As Sam Adams writes in Criticwire, the 2015 Oscars are really the first to ignore big-budget spectacle right down to the technical categories, which were dominated by a Wes Anderson film and a Sundance jury prize winner. Last year, Gravity – a box office as well as critical sensation – cleaned up below-the-line. Movies that tend to make a lot of money usually do.

But this year, the Academy handed just a single sound editing award to American Sniper, a lone visual effects trophy to Interstellar and nada to multi-nominee Guardians of the Galaxy. They were trounced principally by The Grand Budapest Hotel, which ironically then fell in major categories to an even-less-commercial pic in Birdman. It’s no secret that, just as the culture of movie-going has changed over the past five years, the Academy seems less inclined to meet the public in the middle. And for what it’s worth, American Sniper found more favor with critics than some blockbuster late 1980s-1990s Oscar champs like Driving Miss Daisy or Titanic.

If you look at the winners from 1988 right until 2003, only two movies won with less than $100 million made domestically: Braveheart and The English Patient, a pair of war films that hit their emotional beats with forceful, ripe-for-awards intensity. Since 2009, however, only two of six winners have made over $60 million: The King’s Speech, which perhaps falls in the category of The English Patient’s, and Argo, of which I’ll have more words on in a minute. Birdman, this year’s winner, has grossed under $40 million, a fair number below even last year’s 12 Years a Slave.

But what’s interesting about the choices made by the Academy is that they are completely self-reflective. Yes, they have moved away from the public consensus, but they still remain reluctant to embrace critical darlings. If we’re using post-2009 as a timeline, Oscar has touched on the critics’ choice only twice, even as films like The Artist and Birdman grossed low numbers. And in both of those years, the Academy had a chance to make history that was less triumphant than respondent to a “You better…” sentiment. In 2009, Kathryn Bigelow became the first female director to win Best Director and to be behind a Best Picture winner (The Hurt Locker). And in 2013, despite a more-profitable and equally-celebrated film in Gravity as a rival, 12 Years a Slave presented the (sadly) first opportunity for a film with a black director and predominantly black cast to win Best Picture. Again, both of these films deserved it – but that’s hardly what we’re talking about when it comes to Best Picture winners, right?

Of course, in relative terms, The Artist, Argo and Birdman all earned good reviews as well – one could reasonably call them “meet in the middle” choices. The Artist may have been the third-lowest grossing of all nominees, and Argo may have been less-preferred than Lincoln or Zero Dark Thirty (among possible winners; otherwise, Amour could be included) by critics, but they’re not incomprehensible choices. But these films fit into an Oscar anomaly: their messages – so intrinsic to the qualities of a Best Picture winner – are driven by their being situated in the world of movies and the industry. It’s safe to say that as Birdman hurled vitriolic sentiment at critics and established an emotional center within a comeback story, it cumulatively possessed a narrative voters could get behind. The Artist was deeply, powerfully nostalgic. And Argo – well, according to Ben Affleck’s historical drama, Hollywood got us out of the Iran Hostage Crisis. Argo beat a far more political (and acclaimed) film in Zero Dark Thirty, as well as a more elegantly-composed and politically-astute one in Lincoln. The Artist had an absurdly thin slate of films to compete with, but even so, equally-acclaimed movies from long-respected directors like The Descendants and Hugo grossed nearly twice as much, and didn’t stand much of a chance.

This is all important information because, without question, the nation’s relationship to the Academy Awards has shifted. Popular movies aren’t winning anymore – and even the popular ones like Argo lack staying power. They’re not part of a cultural moment, nor do they provoke conversation, nor are they anything close to “masterpieces.” Boyhood, as uncommercial as it may have been, has that lasting power, not to mention an overwhelming critical consensus behind it. A leading 31% of 50+ surveyed critics chose Boyhood as the deserving winner; Birdman snagged just 16%, also far below The Grand Budapest Hotel’s 27%. And as for public preferences, American Sniper claimed an overwhelming 38% in a CBS poll, whereas Birdman tied with Boyhood at a mere 17% apiece.

As most recappers of the night have already documented, social media was surprisingly, vocally dissatisfied with the selection of Birdman. With excellent reviews and a lot of hope in the chances of its leading man Michael Keaton, Birdman winning to such a negative reaction is both odd and illuminative. The sentiment does not go “Oh please, that movie was terrible” – nor does it say, “Jesus Christ, no one even saw it.” What we’re hearing is a general frustration as to what the Academy is doing at this point. For the third time in four years, the industry has awarded a movie about itself. There were movies that earned more acclaim and more money – in most cases, at least one achieved both – but Hollywood, intentionally or not, has consistently been making inward-focused choices. I think Birdman is a hell of a lot more deserving than American Sniper, and I think Boyhood takes the cake both in artistic and historical value, but Birdman makes the least sense of the three as an Academy Award selection. Or maybe “sense” is the wrong word – it’s the least potent choice.

This is not a conversation surrounding a movie that just barely eked it out. Despite the fantastical predictions of pundits and critics (this one included), Birdman had this in the bag. It swept, with Alejandro G. Inarritu beating Richard Linklater for Best Director and Wes Anderson for Best Original Screenplay. It won handily. We’re getting in the habit of dubbing these races a lot closer than they are, and that’s because for the most part, the Oscars roll on for three-and-a-half hours in depressingly predictable fashion. Seeing as BAFTA and SAG have crossover membership with the Academy, when Eddie Redmayne, Julianne Moore, J.K. Simmons and Patricia Arquette all win with both groups (and more, including the Globes for each), it’s safe to conclude that they’re going to win. And they did. As audiences continue to segment, the Academy Awards represent a rare instance for the nation to gather around the television (and on their iPhones) live. The irony is that what we’re watching is an excessively-predictable march to a love-fest for a film rallied around by neither critics nor the public. And, to be clear: Birdman was the favorite movie of the year of many. But looking at the list of critics aggregated by Metacritic alone, eight other films were named the Best of the Year by at least four publications. Taste is taste, and for any interesting conversations to take place, there should be many favorites chosen individually.

The Academy Awards are not a critics’ circle, nor are they the Peoples’ Choice Awards. They are, absolutely, their own body. But it’s unclear what they are representing – especially considering the proclaimed historical and nationalistic value they hold onto so dearly. Watching the Oscars has become a mix of resigned pleasure for the deserving winners we already knew would win; surprise only at musical performances and speeches that strike a nerve (this year, Lady Gaga and John Legend/Common); and irritation at just about everything else. Why are we all watching – what are we holding onto?

Fifteen years ago, we’d probably be seeing American Sniper take it home. Not only did it spark a national debate, but it rallied liberals and conservatives alike, and is certainly reflective of our moment in time. Because the Oscars never have been (and never will be) a barometer of quality, that the “zeitgeist” element of the awards has been all but stripped – or at least, is absent far more frequently than before – is damaging for their cultural relevance and value. Qualitatively, the Academy’s choices on average have probably improved. But they’re also far less relevant, near-opposed to what’s making a dent in the culture.

I’d argue that for the Academy to build on the strides made last year by honoring 12 Years a Slave, they would need to have recognized Boyhood: it’s a film of groundbreaking artistry (in short, by situating resolute realism on an epic scale) and nationally-recognized value. Birdman doesn’t provoke anything deep: its historical value will certainly be short-lived, and it represents Hollywood yet again turning towards itself in a muddled year of competitors.

At their best, the Oscars are a reflection of a moment in time, whether artistically or publicly. But Birdman, liked by most and loved by some, reflects on neither. Put it this way: it’s not a Forrest Gump, but it’s not a Deer Hunter either. It is a movie for Hollywood. In the last six years, the industry has rewarded great movies when they needed to (Hurt Locker; 12 Years), and good movies when they wanted to. What is missing, then, is a public acknowledgment – a sense of the culture at large. Movies tell us who and where we are, and the Oscars used to reflect that more often than not. They told us that Titanic would be the enduring, cheesy love story of our times, or that Lord of the Rings was so good that their fantasy bias could be overcome. But Birdman, like The Artist, Argo and many future winners, only tells us that Hollywood loves to see itself in the mirror. 

OSCARS: Our reviews of this year's Best Picture nominees

American Sniper

Birdman

Boyhood

The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Imitation Game (Andrew's or David's)

Selma (Andrew's or David's)

The Theory of Everything

Whiplash

FINAL 2015 OSCAR PREDICTIONS

Patricia Arquette at the Golden Globes   /EW

Best Picture: Birdman
(alt: Boyhood)

Best Director: Richard Linklater, Boyhood
(alt: Alejandro G. Inarritu, Birdman)

Best Actor: Eddie Redmayne, The Theory of Everything
(alt: Michael Keaton, Birdman)

Best Actress: Julianne Moore, Still Alice

Best Original Screenplay: Alejandro G. Inarritu et al., Birdman
(alt: Wes Anderson & Hugo Guiness, The Grand Budapest Hotel)

Best Adapted Screenplay: Damien Chazelle, Whiplash
(alt: Graham Moore, The Imitation Game)

Best Supporting Actor: J.K. Simmons, Whiplash

Best Supporting Actress: Patricia Arquette, Boyhood

Best Foreign-Language Feature: Ida, Poland
(alt: Wild Tales, Brazil)

Best Documentary Feature: Citizenfour

Best Animated Feature: How to Train Your Dragon 2
(alt: Big Hero 6)

Best Cinematography: Emmanuelle Lubezki, Birdman
(alt: Robert Yeoman, The Grand Budapest Hotel)

Best Editing: Tom Cross, Whiplash
(alt: Sandra Adair, Boyhood)

Best Production Design: The Grand Budapest Hotel
(alt: Interstellar)

Best Score: Alexandre Desplat, The Grand Budapest Hotel
(alt: Johann Johannsson, The Theory of Everything)

Best Original Song: "Glory" of Selma
(alt: "Lost Stars" of Begin Again)

Best Sound Editing: American Sniper
(alt: Unbroken)

Best Sound Mixing: Whiplash
(alt: American Sniper)

Best Costume Design: The Grand Budapest Hotel
(alt: Into the Woods)

Best Makeup/Hairstyling: The Grand Budapest Hotel
(alt: Foxcatcher)

Best Visual Effects: Interstellar
(alt: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes)


Analysis

Best Picture & Director

Best Actor & Actress

Best Original & Adapted Screenplay

Best Supporting Actor & Actress

OSCAR PREDICTIONS: Best Picture & Best Director

(Fox Searchlight)

Best Picture

American Sniper

Birdman

Boyhood

The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Imitation Game

The Theory of Everything

Selma

Whiplash

It’s been a long, long time – in 2014, we have an honest-to-God race for Best Picture.

For all of the lamenting (this blog included) about certain choices this year – including the whitewashing of the acting nominees – you have to hand it to the Academy. Best Picture has come down to three auteurs who have been putting out great work for over a decade. While everyone has their preferences, it’s a pretty wonderful thing that this year’s Oscars have developed into an overdue love-fest for three fine cinematic artists. That doesn’t happen often.

Boyhood has, throughout this race, been the movie that had to win and that couldn’t win. It’s too small – but look at what he did! It’s too indie – but look at those reviews! That it got as far as it did as a frontrunner is pretty remarkable, since the guilds overwhelmingly weighed in against Boyhood, as it couldn’t pick up a single major win. But it’s chugged along, and from its widely-seen Golden Globe win to a domination of the precursor circuit, it’s proven to have what it takes. It’s demanded to be a part of the conversation. As a longtime Oscar watcher and cinephile, I never really thought a movie like Boyhood could fit into both categories. But it has. It’s a remarkable cinematic achievement that, despite the absence of a score or visual flourishes, is one of the top Oscar contenders of 2014.

But let’s not gush too much: Boyhood isn’t out front right now. And more to the point, it’s losing to a movie heavily defined by what it does with music and the camera. Birdman, the exercise in technical virtuosity, is about the least likely movie you’d expect to dominate the relatively-older guilds. It’s slapstick, absurd, jumbled and ambiguous – but Inarritu’s camerawork is just flashy enough, and the field just unusual enough, for Birdman to sneak on by. Or, perhaps more specifically, it appeals to a wider group of voters: actors, craftspeople, writers, directors and producers. Boyhood can’t quite do that.

It’s why Birdman will probably win. I wouldn’t say it’s more accessible, and there’s not a general reputation out there that it’s “better,” per se. But its reach is immense, and Boyhood’s simply isn’t.

The third prong to this Best Picture race is not, as everyone speculated a few months ago, Selma, or as everyone feared until a few weeks ago, The Imitation Game – rather, it’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, which hauled in more BAFTAs than any other film, has several guild awards under its belt and has, like Birdman, an expansive reach. Grand Budapest was released in March but wasn’t taken especially seriously as a potential nominee until its cast was nominated by SAG. And yet, here it is, with Wes Anderson’s grandest accomplishment to date recognized more than any other film. And that Anderson has finally, finally received recognition for his directing (and in Best Picture) is a thing of beauty. It’s still Wes Anderson, and it’s too weird to probably win. But it’s a wild card, and could thrust this race in any number of directions. In case you weren’t aware, both Andrew and I are – like most people – in love with this movie, and it deserves whatever it gets.

Aside from The Theory of Everything, every contender here has floated about as potential winner. I mentioned Selma, whose rapid ascent was as curious as its immediate fall. The Imitation Game never struck the chord pundits expected it to (though it did well enough to get a directing nomination). American Sniper’s mega-success hasn’t translated to increased awards exposure, as it’s been quiet on the guild circuit. And Whiplash is a name I keep hearing, floated about as pundits seem surprised by the level of passion voters have for this film. Again, like Grand Budapest, it’s more of a wild card for the race than a serious player for the award itself. Still, it’s gotten even farther than 2012 Sundance champ Beasts of the Southern Wild, and could wind up stealing some major prizes like editing and adapted screenplay.

As I mentioned in my nominations write-up, this was the Best Picture lineup we were expecting, and based on other key nominations, what was expected to be right behind (Foxcatcher; Nightcrawler) probably was. It’s the second year in a row I’ve peerlessly predicted this category. But it’s the first year in a long time I’m not too confident in my pick for winner. Birdman just feels right, though. Not just because it’s dominated the guild circuit, but because I can’t really imagine anything else taking it at this point. I’m holding out for Boyhood, though – no question, it’s my pick.

Will win: Birdman

Could win: Boyhood

Should win: Boyhood

Best Director

Wes Anderson, The Grand Budapest Hotel

Alejandro G. Inarritu, Birdman

Richard Linklater, Boyhood

Bennett Miller, Foxcatcher

Morten Tyldum, The Imitation Game

For one, the idea of a Best Picture/Director split three years in a row is absurd. It’s even stranger to think that the director of Boyhood would beat the director of Birdman, which is both the Best Picture frontrunner right now and shows infinitely more stylistic flair.

But this race, regardless of how Best Picture goes, is extremely close. Linklater is the man behind Boyhood – his accomplishment is so widely- and universally-acknowledged, and we’ve seen this category show more flexibility recently. Best Picture is not Best Director. Boyhood is a singular directorial achievement, and it will eat up a lot of votes because of that.

Inarritu won DGA and has the advantage of Birdman pulling off a Gravity-like visual feat. It’s showy, and voters like that – see Ang Lee beating Spielberg for Life of Pi a few years ago.

But this category is also about, to a large degree, respectability and likability. Birdman is not a runaway favorite like The Artist or The Hurt Locker, where a match-up for Picture and Director is all but guaranteed. And Linklater, in terms of reputation, has a leg up on Inarritu. It could go either way, but I’m thinking the Boyhood director has got the votes.

Will win: Richard Linklater

Could win: Alejandro G. Inarritu

Should win: Richard Linklater

OSCAR PREDICTIONS: Lead acting categories

/Radio Times

Best Actor

Steve Carell, Foxcatcher

Bradley Cooper, American Sniper

Benedict Cumberbatch, The Imitation Game

Michael Keaton, Birdman

Eddie Redmayne, The Theory of Everything

Going back only five years, would you have thought any of these guys would be nominated for Best Actor in 2014? Carell was busy 22 episodes a year on The Office. Cooper was fresh off of two modern (Razzie) classics, All About Steve and Valentine’s Day. Cumberbatch was an obscure British actor on the cusp of Sherlock fame. Redmayne was transitioning from theatre and modeling to film and television. And Keaton was, well, nowhere to be found.

Let’s put it another way: who would have thought that in a Best Actor Oscar lineup, Bradley Cooper would be the only one of the five to be a previous nominee? It’s been a full decade since this category featured only one former nominee – the year of the first nominations for eventual winners Philip Seymour Hoffman and Heath Ledger (Joaquin Phoenix was the returning nominee). To say the least, this is an unusually light field in terms of prestige.

But enough about superlatives. Redmayne, with SAG, BAFTA and Golden Globes under his belt, is probably going to win this thing. It’s the kind of performance the Academy loves to reward, and this is a category without a you-can’t-not-give-it-to-them performance as has been the case in the past. Qualitatively, it really depends on preference. Redmayne is not the best actor on this list, but his physical transformation as Stephen Hawking is undeniable. Keaton gets to show more range, Cooper demonstrates more levity and Carell does the polar opposite of what we’re used to him doing. I like all of these performances, but the Academy went too safe with its selections among a field perceived to be excessively-crowded. David Oyelowo’s MLK in Selma and Timothy Spall’s J.M.W. Turner in Mr. Turner left easily the most lasting impressions of the year with fiery, embodied and humane performances. Also sadly overlooked were Ralph Fiennes’ sensational comedic turn in The Grand Budapest Hotel, Jake Gyllenhaal’s exercise in lunacy in Nightcrawler and Oscar Isaac’s Pacino-esque slow-burn in A Most Violent Year. The Academy didn’t go with five bad performances, per se, but going with these five would have made for an infinitely more interesting, and dare I say more impressive, lineup.

Among the five we have to work with here, Cumberbatch would be my personal choice. His work in The Imitation Game just wrecked me, and given the material he had to work with, he did one hell of a job. Ironically, despite the fears of many that Imitation could push itself to a Best Picture win, Cumberbatch has long been low on this totem pole. If anybody can beat Redmayne, it’s certainly Keaton, who has the comeback narrative of the century. And Bradley Cooper is a wild card; on his third consecutive nomination for the smash hit American Sniper, he’ll at least disrupt the status quo. That could help Redmayne, Keaton or Cooper himself. Right now, though, it’s a fool’s game to bet against the man who played Stephen Hawking.

Will win: Eddie Redmayne

Could win: Michael Keaton

Should win: Benedict Cumberbatch

(Sony Classics)

Best Actress

Marion Cotillard, Two Days, One Night

Felicity Jones, The Theory of Everything

Julianne Moore, Still Alice

Rosamund Pike, Gone Girl

Reese Witherspoon, Wild

For every piece about how crowded Best Actor was looking, there were two about the anemic state of Best Actress. And, it’s true – I can’t quite come up with an alternate fives actresses that would make as suitable a lineup.

But Cotillard and Moore are some of our best actors working right now, each contributing (arguably) career-best performances in 2014. Cotillard went bigger in La vie en rose; Moore dug deeper in Far From Heaven. But both Two Days, One Night and Still Alice showcase these actresses at their best, in range, in impact and in authenticity. Moore is an absolute lock to win, and that fact is a great thing: she’s ridiculously overdue. I want Moore to win, though if I were checking down the best performance in this category, it’d be Cotillard in a walk – seriously, her Two Days performance is an absolute stunner by just about every measure.

Of the rest of the category: I wasn’t a big fan of the three movies represented here, but each stood out with terrific performances. They’ve earned their spots. With Witherspoon, I noted that the deafening talk around her work in Wild felt backhandedly insulting: we know she’s capable of being this good, and she didn’t surprise me all that much. But that’s not an insult. Similarly, I think a better script and more cohesive vision would have allowed Pike to land in Gone Girl with more of a thud, but she’s tremendous with the material she’s given. And Jones, who did even better work last year in a remarkably complex role as The Invisible Woman, is always a worthy candidate.

Andrew and I have both beaten the Babadook drum before, and it’s true that Essie Davis should be here. She’s so good, in fact, that even though she’s in a small-time Australian drama, she may have had a shot if the film wasn’t in the most un-Academy genre around: horror. And it’s hard not to see Mommy and lament Anne Dorval’s absence here (and yes, Mia Wasikowska in Tracks digs deeper than Witherspoon in Wild). But this category is better than it gets credit for, and may actually outrank Best Actor in terms of the quality of acting on display. Different choices can always be made, but Julianne Moore will finally triumph in a slate of solid nominees. That’s okay by me.

Will win: Julianne Moore

Should win: Marion Cotillard 

FEATURE: Emmy rule changes keep us guessing about modern TV landscape

(Netflix)

The Television Academy has overhauled their eligibility rules for the upcoming 2015 Emmy Awards.

The group behind TV’s highest honor rightly got a lot of flak last year for some questionable decisions. True Detective was ruled a drama series while Fargo was a miniseries – even though the format these two take is nearly exclusive to them, the TV Academy seemed fine with them competing in completely different areas. Shameless, coming off of its darkest season, was allowed to make the transfer to comedy. Orange Is the New Black, initially set to compete as a drama, switched to comedy where the competition was lighter. And ongoing limited series including Sherlock and Luther continued to compete along stand-alone projects like The White Queen.

What fascinates me about this conversation is not the Emmys’ struggle to adequately segment and structure honors for an extremely diverse TV landscape. We’re seeing everybody do this: the Golden Globes forced True Detective to compete as a limited series alongside Fargo while every other body followed in the Emmy path; the TCA somehow categorized Rectify as a miniseries; and the WGA allowed The Leftovers to compete in longform alongside Olive Kitteridge and The Normal Heart. In the past 10 years, television has exploded in prestige and artistic value. In what is nothing short of an honor, we’re seeing TV networks and producers try to game the system to their advantage, just has been done with the Oscars for decades. But even though Fargo was no more a miniseries than True Detective, and Shameless’ category jump was an obviously absurd play for more awards attention (and it worked: William H. Macy just won SAG for Comedy Actor), these issues have raised legitimate questions. What is a drama series? A comedy series? A miniseries?

The new rules restrict True Detective to a new “limited series” category, alongside Fargo, following in the footsteps of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (that can’t feel good). And they now define “comedy series” as half-hours, and “drama series” as whole-hours – considering Orange Is the New Black really does toe the line between the two forms, and others like Jane the Virgin and Glee are obviously comedies, this is flawed patchwork. But it speaks to the remarkable difficulty that comes with defining exactly what television is right now – the debate as to whether online-exclusive content should be judged differently is certainly on the way as well – and the choices the Academy made are understandable and necessarily firm.

Movies don’t have this problem. The Motion Pictures Academy has never differentiated between comedy and drama, and has never really had to deal with issues of continuity – though, when they must, they will questionably dub a sequel’s script “adapted.” Movies are movies: closed-ended and singular. But when I look at the top Golden Globe contenders last year for Comedy Series, from Jane the Virgin and Orange Is the New Black to surprising winner Transparent, I see shows that fit into a “drama” label as much as a comedy one. And, moreover, it’s safe to say that the big TV Comedy acting winners of January – Uzo Aduba and William H. Macy at SAG; Gina Rodriguez and Jeffrey Tambor at the Globes – uniformly do equally funny, poignant and dramatic work that would be competitive with performances in “drama” series. Macy has, in fact, already competed as a Best Drama Actor nominee with the Critics’ Choice TV Awards.

Television has a different history than movies. Fifty years ago, half-hour comedies and hour-long dramas served completely different functions. While traditional sitcoms and procedurals still exist, they have fallen almost completely out of favor with awards bodies. The Big Bang Theory began its run in the fall of 2006; it has been the only multi-camera nominee in Outstanding Comedy Series for the past five years. I don’t need to document just how many multi-cams have come on and off the air in that span of time – and none of them even came close, by the way – but that’s a striking statistic on its own. Dramatically, meanwhile, The Good Wife is the only old-fashioned network drama to really find favor with critics, but at this point, it’s getting a lot more love from cable-loving journalists (and the Globes) than the industry.

Should the Emmys combine comedy and drama, as the Academy Awards do? Another rule change made today includes the expansion of series categories to seven nominees. That means that an astonishing 14 programs will be nominated as Best Drama/Comedy alone. TV is good right now, but is it that good? The Oscars decided that 10 Best Picture nominees was excessive after a two-year trial, and yet the TV Academy has steadily built from 10, to 12, to now 14. The American Film Institute (AFI) rules on the 10 best TV programs of the year without regard to form or genre. Included were “comedies” Transparent; Orange Is the New Black; Jane the Virgin; and Silicon Valley. Some great comedies (notably Louie and Veep, both of which made the cut last year) missed out, but so did some acclaimed dramas (True Detective and The Good Wife) – and isn’t that the point of awards? Not every good show is supposed to get in, right?

To get back to the changes, though, the Emmys improved an unsolvable system. They also addressed the ridiculous state of guest acting categories – in last year’s Comedy Guest Actress field, every single nominee was actually a regular on their respective show – by forcing all actors that appear in over half of the eligible run of episodes into supporting/lead categories. So, if you want to sum up the changes, go with this: it’s not a good day for Orange Is the New Black. Jenji Kohan’s Netflix series earned a healthy amount of nominations by going comedy, and by slotting regular actors in guest categories on a contractual technicality. Expect its dozen nods to roughly slice in half next year.

There were some other notable changes, which you can read about here. And we’ll get into talking Emmys – contenders, predictions and all that – beginning next month. As for now, though, the ever-evolving conversation about what constitutes television, and what constitutes specific types of television, rolls on. 

OSCAR PREDICTIONS: Supporting acting categories

(Sony Classics)

Best Supporting Actor

Robert Duvall, The Judge

Ethan Hawke, Boyhood

Edward Norton, Birdman

Mark Ruffalo, Foxcatcher

J.K. Simmons, Whiplash

Neither of these categories are in a state where a few hundred words dedicated to prognostication is remotely worth it. Simmons has this one in the bag; Patricia Arquette is a no-brainer to win Best Supporting Actress.

That being said, this is a strong category that may have deserved a bit more competition than the Simmons-runaway we got. The Whiplash star is brilliantly menacing (and my personal pick) and certainly eats up a lot of screentime, but one thing I like about Best Supporting Actor this year is the variety. Norton, in Birdman, is raucously funny and brings about a dazzlingly loopy physicality. His role fades in the film, but while onscreen the actor is mesmerizingly entertaining. Ruffalo, alongside the more talked-up performances of Steve Carell and Channing Tatum, may give his best dramatic performance to date in Foxcatcher. It’s a quiet and initially mild turn that sneaks up on you: it takes a good hour to realize just how far Ruffalo has removed himself from the character, and just how carefully and immaculately he’s built up this impenetrable emotional intensity. Hawke – beyond the coldness of Foxcatcher, the propulsion of Whiplash and the fantasticality of Birdman – goes jubilantly naturalistic in Boyhood, maintaining a connective resonance and unwavering expressiveness throughout. And Duvall rounds out the category for The Judge, a movie I missed in which Duvall gives, from what I hear, a fine performance – though I’m confident it wouldn’t be my pick.

Simmons has won every single precursor award of note; has an overdue reputation as a longtime character actor; and gives – and here’s the most important Oscar factor – the “biggest” performance of the bunch. In this case, it translates to the most deserving. I would have loved to see Josh Brolin compete for his brazenly strange Inherent Vice turn, or the two Selma Brits who played slimy Southerners – Tim Roth as George Wallace, and Tom Wilkinson as LBJ – with both weighty grit and unabashed amusement (and, if they could have stretched it, John Lithgow and/or Alfred Molina would be extremely deserving for Love Is Strange). But it’s a solid five, one that’s long had a predestined outcome.

Will win: J.K. Simmons

Should win: J.K. Simmons

(IFC)

Best Supporting Actress

Patricia Arquette, Boyhood

Laura Dern, Wild

Keira Knightley, The Imitation Game

Emma Stone, Birdman

Meryl Streep, Into the Woods

Unlike the former category, this one feels like a wasteland.

I like Knightley in The Imitation Game fine, though I struggle to understand why her nomination was such a foregone conclusion. She’s affable, charming, believable – but she’s not given much at all to work with. Stone, meanwhile, is nominated for one great Birdman scene, but I wouldn’t consider it Oscar-worthy as I would Viola Davis’ single, impactful moment in Doubt a few years back. Streep is predictably boisterous and wonderful in Into the Woods, but it’s her weakest nominated performance in quite some time. And while I love Dern, and am amazed at what she brought to her background-laden part in Wild, she’s working within an extremely limited role, and can only do so much.

Of course, I’ve yet to mention Arquette, who in this group of five is – unlike J.K. Simmons – so far ahead both in predictive terms and qualitatively that it’s a little ridiculous. The way she holds such emotional and physical control in early scenes with young kids, and so authentically plays he character's isolated emotional outbursts, maintains an intimate center for Boyhood. Really, for this category to get interesting beyond Arquette, the Academy would have needed to look outside the box. Tilda Swinton is scary-good (and scary-scary) in Snowpiercer, an utter transformation in dialect, physicality and personality. Elisabeth Moss is tartly comic and then humanely prickly in Listen Up Philip (Moss, between Mad Men and Top of the Lake and this, is making a claim for being one of the more versatile, talented American actresses working right now). Tessa Thompson takes teen angst to funny, complicated, honest levels in Dear White People, grounding a film sorely in need of a little levity. And Katherine Waterston is sultry, sexy and restrained as PTA’s vulnerable leading lady in Inherent Vice.

Unfortunately, these films were nowhere near Oscar’s radar, and so their chances were especially slim. Arquette is going to win this thing, and she’s going to deserve it. But don’t let this slate of nominees convince you that this was a weak year for the category. It just reflects voters’ frustrating reluctance to move beyond their comfort zone.

Will win: Patricia Arquette

Should win: Patricia Arquette 

OSCAR PREDICTIONS: Screenplay categories

(Searchlight)

Original Screenplay

Alejandro G. Inarritu et al, Birdman

Richard Linklater, Boyhood

E. Max Frye & Dan Futterman, Foxcatcher

Wes Anderson & Hugo Guinness, The Grand Budapest Hotel

Dan Gilroy, Nightcrawler

Let me preface by saying that this is a terrific category. There’s not a doubt that you’ll know, if a reader of this blog, that I like some of these choices more than others – Boyhood over Birdman; Foxcatcher over Nightcrawler; Grand Budapest for the win, pretty please? – but each of the five scripts represented here are beloved, adored and praised to the high heavens by thick blocs of some of the best minds around. It’s a good group.

The sheer conception of The Grand Budapest Hotel, going for melancholic madcap as it blasts through tonal barriers and structural standards to a degree far beyond anything Anderson has tried before, is worthy of recognition. So too is the line-for-line specificity of Boyhood, with its characters’ speak always, exceptionally particular to who, what, where, when and why. Foxcatcher, while certainly a director’s movie first, mines a distressing depth of feeling through cryptic conversation and an unbearably-slow build. Nightcrawler’s satire target is never completely on-point, but Gilroy’s script gets points simply for envisioning Louis Bloom: he’s a brilliant construct brought to horrifying life by Jake Gyllenhaal, though infused with delightful peculiarities and riveting opacity on the page beforehand.

The likely winner here is Birdman, a widely-collaborated-on script led by Alejandro G. Inarritu and the recipient of the equivalent Golden Globe. It’s a close race – Grand Budapest has triumphed with both WGA and BAFTA, not to mention a below-the-line win from NYFCC – but Birdman, as our Best Picture frontrunner, is our most probable champ here. It was ineligible with WGA, and not a hit with BAFTA – it hasn’t exactly lost anything prominent, in other words. And it’s wildly inventive. There are thematic and comedic misses in Birdman, as my review details, but it possesses an unprecedented level of ambition, and for that it deserves credit. In a subsequent space, I’ll get into my analytical and personal thoughts about Birdman’s ascendance as Best Picture frontrunner; for now, I’ll just state that there are more worthy efforts in this category, as well as some that didn’t make the cut. The Dardennes pulled off a magic trick in realism with Two Days, One Night; Ruben Ostlund’s Force Majeure evoked unnerving familiarity; Ira Sachs’ world in Love Is Strange felt comfortably lived-in by minute 90, a feat few if any films of the past year share; Leviathan managed to tell a story of epic scale and importance while keeping things intimate and humane; and Selma, for all of the kerfuffle as to who deserved credit, featured a blessedly-complex narrative about communal unity and political organization.

Nonetheless, Birdman is an appropriate choice, one certainly within the confines of acceptability (really, all of these are). Last year, American Hustle was a Best Picture contender – the only one, in fact, competing in this category. Though widely-assumed to win, the David O. Russell script fell like dominoes on the precursor circuit to Spike Jonze’s passion project Her, culminating in an Oscar loss that didn’t end up as much of a surprise. A similar thing could happen here, as Anderson – overdue, and writing stuff a little more outside of Academy tastes – is having a moment of his own. This would be the place to recognize him.

But the Her example doesn’t quite hold throughout Oscar history, and Birdman is on a tear right now. Since this is an uncharacteristically competitive year, it’s hard to know just how warm an embrace Birdman will receive from the Academy. But we only have the guilds to go on, and on that front, Birdman wiped the floor clean. It’s the rational pick.

Will win: Birdman

Could win: The Grand Budapest Hotel

Should win: The Grand Budapest Hotel

(Sony Classics)

Adapted Screenplay

Jason Hall, American Sniper

Graham Moore, The Imitation Game

Paul Thomas Anderson, Inherent Vice

Anthony McCarten, The Theory of Everything

Damien Chazelle, Whiplash

No one is going to point to the scripts of any of these movies, except perhaps Inherent Vice (notably, the most divisive of the bunch), as their most impressive trait. Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper may feature a much-lauded Bradley Cooper performance and equally-acclaimed action sequences, but its glossy script is razor-thin on characterization or coherence, and any deliberate ambiguity comes through in the direction; page-to-screen translation is jumbled and inefficient. The Imitation Game has a shapely exterior, conveying intriguing perspective, specific ideas and an overall intelligence – but when it comes to person-to-person interactions, the film flails with wooden dialogue (“Better bloody work!”) and simplistic expressions of motivation. The Theory of Everything all but removes the more complicated and nuanced aspects of its true-life story; a hard-hitting score and a pair of hard-hitting performances is all it needs (and uses) for emotional investment. Whiplash is great, but I’d point to every other element within the film – taut editing, (startlingly) assured direction, blistering performances, a rousing sound mix – as exemplary before its strong if unremarkable script. It’s flawed – everything beyond the mentor/mentee dynamic is a little hit-and-miss – and is given necessary texture by outside factors.

Another thing, in aggressive contrast to the original category: none of these scripts break any rules, go anywhere bold, or hit a range of emotions with punch. They’re mostly old-fashioned, sweepingly broad, consistently uninterested in language. If The Imitation Game is the best of the (non-Inherent Vice) nominees’ scripts represented here – and I think it is – then that, frankly, is a seriously sad reflection on what was chosen here (and over, might I add, Gillian Flynn’s zeitgeist-probing and fascinating-if-uneven Gone Girl script).

The last time Paul Thomas Anderson should have been nominated was in 2012, for his extraordinary work on The Master – directing to writing, it was a tour-de-force, an auteur theorist’s wet dream. He was last recognized in 2007, for his (other) masterpiece, There Will Be Blood. Unfortunately, he was chanceless against the Coen Brothers, who had No Country for Old Men in a Birdman-like position of total Academy embrace. He lost to them in directing, writing, and finally for Best Picture.

Unfortunately, this category is a wasteland, and if he weren’t entering into it with a movie so divisive and un-Academy (one which, for the record, I loved), Anderson might have finally gotten that long-overdue Oscar. Given the competition, he deserves it to a considerable degree. Inherent Vice is a film of big ideas, sprawling ambition and rich language. It juggles dozens of characters, each instantly-definable by the cadences in their speech and the circumstances in which they are situated. Anderson weaves together an emotional, nostalgia-ridden narrative by enthusiastically laying on the slapstick – he treats ostensibly-opposed emotional realms as if they are one, passionately and personally making a claim for a lost era and a faded way of life. Put shortly: it’s the kind of intellectually-engaged, deeply-felt screenplay that awards are made for.

But Inherent Vice is not going to win: it’s too weird, too off-the-radar. What will? Conventional wisdom dictated it was The Imitation Game’s to lose, but Harvey Weinstein’s awards thoroughbred hasn’t done too well. It lost BAFTA screenplay to The Theory of Everything (that was its home turf), and in general, it has been a quieter player than expected. Considering that Theory was ineligible and Whiplash competed in an alternate category, its WGA win should be taken with a substantial grain of salt.

Weirdly, I’ll be surprised if Damian Chazelle’s name is not called on Sunday night. Whiplash fits the bill – screenplay categories are where the Academy likes to honor the wunderkind – and it seems to be generating more passion among the Academy than anything else. I suppose Theory or Imitation could take it – they both have below-the-line prizes – but here is the perfect opportunity for voters to recognize Chazelle’s remarkable achievement. Considering what’s competing, it’s about as high a value as this award could have.

Will win: Whiplash

Could win: The Imitation Game

Should win: Inherent Vice

FEATURE: Change, identity and negotiation in THE GOOD WIFE

YEAR IN REVIEW: Andrew's Top Ten Movies of the Year

This was an exceptional year for film. Unlike in 2013, however, most of my favorites did not make the Oscar shortlist. This was my first year reviewing movies, and I have to say that – at a time when the most talented storytellers are being outsourced into the now-illustrious television – filmmakers are giving us more reasons to attend the cinema. There really is nothing like sitting in a theater, with other people, with maybe a some popcorn (I had my fair share this year.)

You might notice that this is a LONG piece: feel free to skip to the summary nuggets of my criticism towards the last paragraph. But I really wanted to review the movies that I didn’t get a chance to review because of this late-budding urge I had. This is my critical time capsule, to remember why it is that these movies worked so well for me, because – maybe in two years time – I won’t remember the specifics. And this was a revolutionary year for filmmaking, a year that truly pushed the borders of storytelling. 

Here’s my 2013 list:

1. 12 Years a Slave

2. American Hustle

3. Blue is the Warmest Color

4. Her

5. Stories We Tell/The Act of Killing

6. Enough Said

7. Nebraska

8. Short Term 12

9. Gravity

10. Blue Jasmine/Philomena

And here begins my 2014 list:

10. The Immigrant (Tie)

Though a box-office bomb, The Immigrant managed to ravish, dazzle and mystify in a way few movies did this year. This strange and macabre voyeur through 1920’s New York tells the story of Ewa (Cotillard), a Polish immigrant taken under the wing of pimp Bruno (Joaquin Pheonix). She is rejected by her American family; she has no one else to turn to except Bruno, and is manipulated into being one his show girls, an exotic mistress in a sexy Lady Liberty costume. God’s eye is on every sparrow,” magician Emil (Jeremy Renner) tells her, in love and hopeful that he might protect her from Bruno's unrelenting grasp and rescue her sister from deportation. Bruno - rife with jealousy, fearful of losing his prize - kills him, however, drawing Ewa further into his bind.

Pheonix and Cotillard are doing excellent work here, expanding their repertoire of already impressive material (including Cotillard's collaboration with the Dardennes, a year best performance).  James Gray's writing and directing is at once stunningly atmospheric and deliciously melodramatic, a slow-burn examination of the American institutions that glamorize and perpetuate female bondage. It's arty, cerebral and really creative. A truly well done film.

10.) Whiplash (Tie)

Whiplash is Damien Chazelle’s feature debut, a film with the startling pace of a horror movie. It’s about music and the drive for perfection; unlike Black Swan, however, its intensity is always grounded in a recognizable humanity. The story is based on Chazelle’s own experience at Julliard, and the familiarity and confidence he brings makes Whiplash, not simply one of the best first-feature debuts of the year, but one of the best films of the year, period.

Miles Teller and J.K Simmons are a ravishing pair. JK Simmons, a technical virtuoso with both the snarling bite of an attack dog and the sociopathic smile of a Cheshire cat, is simply sensational and terrifying. Teller bleeds, sweats and drums like a victimized animal, fighting for his life, his soul and his art, letting go of all that matters to him to pursue his goal of being the best. While the narrative is not as tight by the third act and the tertiary characters – the Dad, the girlfriend – don’t complement the main plot in the way Chazelle might have intended, Whiplash, nonetheless, is a roller-coaster ride, one that I wouldn’t hesitate to ride again and again.  

9.) Foxcatcher

Foxcatcher is disturbing in its portrayal of masculinity. If one image from this film endures, it is John Du Pont (Steve Carrell) looking at the wrestlers he has brought together, having fun and basking in a camaraderie, yet feeling separate and desperate in his attempts to integrate himself. The movie is also very much about the abuses of power: Du Pont takes Mark Schultz under his wing, laughs with him and then, afterwards, Du Pont insults him by calling him monkey. It is sudden, but it reflects the sociopathy of the accumulated wealth John Du Pont has acquired. The brooding nature of repression haunts every image, from the stuffed birds, to the frigid and green landscapes of Foxcatcher farms. 

Many (I'm not citing, but many reviews indeed did) unfairly criticized it for skirting over the topic of homosexuality. But Miller uses his masterful cinematic eye to suggest a sexual repression so buried and desperate, it can only culminate and end in tragedy. Set in a time before Reagan acknowledges AID’s, this bristly morality tale reminds us what lies underneath the façades of American masculinity.

Mark Ruffalo does his finest work, breaking down in front of the John Du Pont documentarian, when he refuses to call him his hero. Tatum, as well, is fiercely committed to his desperation and angst. Carrell is excellent as well, navigating Du Pont's psychosis with ease and grace, showing a refreshing sense of discipline and control. These are all actors working at the top of their game, playing really well off of each other. Bennett Miller gives us a fascinating character study, an impeccably crafted film and the most refreshing and original takes on American masculinity this year (and this, to be mean, is meant to actively target A Most Violent Year, which did not do nearly enough as I thought it would).

8.) Love is Strange

In an impressive year for gay cinema, Love is Strange stands out from the rest. Though his previous film Keep The Lights On suffered from a loose focus, strongly indicated themes and a melodramatic execution (it was superbly acted, though), here Sachs never rings a false note, achieving a disciplined balance between melodrama and comedy, allowing his actors rather than his ideas to drive the narrative.

A gay-couple getting married after 39 years of marriage, George (Molina) loses his job as a composer at a church for officially coming out, which forces him and husband Ben (Lithgow) out of their New York apartment. Ben rooms with his nephew’s family, George (Molina) with young gay neighbors.

Love is Strange encompasses many stories and subplots without ever feeling over-stuffed: Kate (Marisa Tomei) and Joey (Charlie Tahan) play their annoyance at George's intrusion very well, as we see them undergoing their own crises of identity, perhaps the intensity of their situations is too much to bear.

How they relate to a man that is old and not as sharp as he once was, unable to detect social cues, selfish and unaware as old age can make some? Molina's experiences are a bit more comical as he learns his neighbors’ party lifestyle doesn't quite mesh with his own.

Contained within the space and plot machinations of the film, is an allegory for the inevitable separation that occurs when one partner leaves the other. Is it possible to find your happiness apart from the person you’ve shared your life with, to paint or compose with the same drive, to live fully and happily? The film grapples with impermanence as an inevitable fact of growing older: Sachs uses every character, from Tomei’s to Molina’s, to effectively explore his themes. 

Love is Strange is about what it means to love your friends, your family and your partner, and explores the various strange forms this love might take. It is the type of movie that is hardly made anymore but needs to be.

7.) Selma

Ava Duvernay’s Selma is an ambitious work of filmmaking, tackling the Selma to Montgomery marches with not only the intention of chronicling but with exploring, as well, the various the personalities who made it happen: Amelia Boynton, John Lewis, Annie Lee Cooper, Diane Nash, James Bevel and many others, balancing the intimate with the grand, the political with the personal.

This a movie that explores the various meanings behind "coming together". Lyndon B. Johnson is not passionate about passing the Voting Rights Act of 1965 until he sees the police beating the protesters on his television screen. SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) and SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) struggle against each other, until they realize victory is only won if they stand tall side by side. Coretta King, marginalized in the household by MLK's protectiveness, instead emerges herself by the end as a triumphant voice for racial injustice. Duvernay casts an eye not only on the cruel beatings and gassing on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, but on quiet moments, opening on King (Oyelowo) adjusting a necktie, showing us his sorrows and anxieties in a jail cell, his comforting demeanor to the grief-stricken father of Andrew Young, explaining to Coretta with conviction that he loves her deeply.

Ava Duvernay avoids the stuffiness of most period dramas. These are real people, figures we can recognize, heroes with flaws and temperaments and anxieties. Selma inspires you by faithfully chronicling this crucial chapter of the civil rights movement, by giving racist villains such as George Wallace and Jim Clark their due indictment yet never letting them descend into caricature. By proving that the ultimate enacters of change are ordinary people, not god-like heroes, and by showing us what is at stake when we don’t participate in the political process, Selma takes deliberate pains to remind us that history is not best left in the past, but must continually be dealt with. 

She never lets itself become too comfortable with standard story-telling, creates fascinating juxtapositions between King’s political activism and King’s home-life, balances the atmospheric with the humanistic and invites our audience to remember history and recreate it once more.

6.) The Babadook

It’s no secret: horror films consistently rank among the weakest genre-films being made today. Repetitive formulas, cheap thrills and over-worked folklore make the medium hit-or-miss, with misses far more common than hits (and even then...). Famed directors, from Kubrick and Hitchcock to Polanski and DePalma, have given us the gold standards of the horror genre, works of art as well as works of horror, and they've been long gone. Horror moviemaking also happens to be a grossly male-dominated world, as is typical in Hollywood – but, in one of the best surprises of the year, Jennifer Kent outdoes her male counterparts with her debut feature, The Babadook. Unlike contemporary hits Insidious or The Conjuring, this film dares to embrace the banal conventions of horror to create something unique and truly meaningful, an homage to its predecessors as well as a (finally!) truly feminist and humanistic interpretation of the genre.

The unsettling suspense of the film builds to the last thirty minutes, in which Amelia’s confrontation with the Babadook rips your heart out. Because, while entertaining us, Kent effortlessly draws out this touching narrative about a mother fighting for control of her own mind. Davis gives one of the years best performances, going from a deeply loving parent, to a possessed monster, to a person desperate to gain back control. Sam can only helplessly watch as his mother is devoured by the Babadook’s unrelenting grasp, as his mother confronts the menacing and overwhelming monster.

As freaky as a twisted Dr. Seuss tale and a more brutally honest a take on motherhood as I've seen recently, The Babadook charts new territory. It shamelessly entertains, reminding us that artful horror is not dead.

5.) Two Days, One Night

Two Days, One Night is about the morals of cut-throat capitalism and the will one must possess to survive in it. Marion Cotillard’s quiet yet exhilarating performance anchors the Dardenne brother's sparse script and hands-off directing style. It’s a documentary, almost, in its ability to bring about these powerful moments through the most seemingly straightforward conversations and moments. No music to set a mood, no elaborate cinematography, no perceived artistry to be found, only the uncompromising style the Dardenne brothers usually approach their work with.

The plot is deceptively straightforward - a woman is fired at the expense of employee bonuses and confronts her co-workers to demand they stand with her in solidarity. It’s a stunning morality play, but it is what underlies the story which makes Two Days, One Night such a transcending work of art. She’s battling not only with those who want to keep their bonuses and see her gone, but with her depression as well, a debilitating self-loathing that sees itself realized when her boss informs her she is no longer needed. “It’s always darkest before the dawn,” the clichéd quip goes, and Sandra – after two weeks of barely recovering from a nervous breakdown, on hearing this terrible news – must fend off the encroaching dark clouds of depression and self-loafing to keep herself, her relationship and her family afloat.

If the social structures of the solar panel company crumble faced with this ethical dilemma, it is simply the fascinating backdrop of an extraordinary odyssey undergone by 2014’s most complex and fascinating heroine. (I explore her complexity in my review: check it out!) The Dardenne’s have fashioned one of the best movies of the year: Sandra’s story is our story.

4.) Leviathan

God is everywhere, God is omniscient, God is unrelenting. But what God does each of us worship? The characters in Andrey Zvyaginstev’s Leviathan are looking for a sign of God, which they maybe hope to see in the presence of whale; this whale is a metaphor for a hope that never comes. We only see colossal bones, littered near the ocean, chalk white and eerily cavernous. The small coastal Russian town our characters inhabit is isolated and scenic, filled with humble men and women, many whom have grown up together, working filthy jobs, whose sweet tonic is vodka (everyone drinks a lot in this!), who pride themselves on sticking together.

Roman Madyanov is a revelation as Mayor Vadim Shelevyat, a character desperate for power and respect. A portrait of Putin hangs menacingly as a reminder of the powerful state. Throughout, we watch him converse with the priests, justify his actions to evict Kolia and threaten his best friend with death, theorize about God’s power and his own. He is at once a monster and a pawn, an arbiter of control as well as a small cog in a larger machine of Russia’s corrupt political machine. 

Leviathan draws from Dosteovsky and the Bible, Kafka and Hobbes, Coppola and Shakespeare, but its uniquely immersive and suffocating and contemporary. The Russian-Orthodox effigies that haunt the film are extensions of governmental power – indeed, the grand theme of this film is that religion and politics are inseparable and all-encompassing; Phillip Glass’s score punctures into us by the end, the shot of the waves crashing have us gasping for air, for a reprieve, but there isn't one offered to us. Leviathan is an indictment of these superior powers that push us down and herald our suffering. It's the years most thoughtful film, and - man - does it pack a punch.

3.) Mr. Turner

“I believe you to be a man of great spirit and fine feeling,” Sophia Booth (played immaculately by Marion Bailey) tells Mr. Turner, the mysterious guest who frequents her Margate-inn. Indeed, Mike Leigh’s Mr. Turner is both a spiritual and emotional journey about a man hopelessly searching for the many meanings and forms art takes in one’s life. In 19th Century London, a time when paintings are being mainly valued as commerce and commodities (aren't they still?), JMW Turner strives for artistic purity and integrity. 

Throughout the film, Mr. Turner, a heralded visual artist, must deal with his art becoming politicized and debated by wealthy buyers (I think of the HILARIOUS John Ruskin, who had me in tears) and mocked and ridiculed by the general public. Timothy Spall’s insanely hilarious and heartbreaking performance betrays vulnerability and bitterness, artistic drive and sexual repression, anchors Leigh’s own vision of a world seen through the eyes and the heart of an artist.   

The idea of JMW Turner, an artist ahead of his time yet intrinsically bound to his era, a man of great flaws and deep existential anguish, is felt not only in Spall’s brilliant performance but in the colorful tableaux’s framed by cinematographer Dick Pope and in the quaint vignettes Leigh’s script gives us. Whether having us stare in disgust as he fucks his vulnerable servant on a bookcase or stare in awe of his peculiar genius as he splatters red paint on his work, Leigh invites the viewer into the moral and physical of 19th London, never raising judgments against Mr. Turner or the ignorant world that surrounds. Mike Leigh’s Mr. Turner explores JMW Turner’s artistic temperament while heralding a unique cinematic language all its own, as visionary and heart-breakingly enigmatic as the multifaceted main character who mans the movie’s helm.

2.) The Grand Budapest Hotel 

Wes Anderson’s best film to date, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a truly original and groundbreaking piece of filmmaking, bringing together many actors from the Anderson-arsenal to deliver a ravishing tale about the rise and decline of the mythic Grand Budapest Hotel.

If this movie should be characterized with one all-telling adjective, it’s nostalgia: the story-within-a-story-within-a-story suggests as much. The quixotic, melancholic fable is told by former lobby boy Zero Moustafa. It is a recollection of his days a lobby boy in the Grand Budapest Hotel, a relic of an old world much like its dedicated concierge M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) who takes the orphan under his wing. 

When Madame Céline Villeneuve "Madame D" Desgoffe und Taxis (Tilda Swinton) dies and M. Gustave inherits her treasured ‘Boy with Apple,’ a series of events ensues putting M. Gustav and his dedicated lobby boy Zero into conflict with both the Taxis family and the Nazis. Admist the trouble, Zero falls in love with the baker Agatha, Gustave chips his way out of a jail Alcatraz-style and Jopling stalks them with the ferocity of a savage detective.

It brings together many classic plot lines and tropes to weave a tale not only of grand artistry but great fun as well. European architecture, old-world customs, slap-stick humor, Edgar Allen Poe,  gourmet confections, gangster-like bullet slinging, Alcatraz jail escapes and family-inheritance trysts: Anderson’s masterpiece The Grand Budapest Hotel has it all.  It’s escapist and fantastical movie-making at its oh-so best!

1.) Boyhood

Boyhood has already received unanimous praise and critical treatment so I won’t yell at deaf ears. I’ll only say it’s the year’s best for a reason. It’s not only an incredible achievement and admirable committed work on behalf of Richard Linklater and his acting ensemble, but it’s a truly original, a time capsule. Its an authentic look at coming-of-age, one that struck me particularly because of how much I saw myself in Mason. It’s effortless and genuine and a lot of fun. I saw my life through Mason’s, and it was a cathartic experience to see him grow-up before my own eyes. Unequivocally, 2014’s best film. A masterpiece on so many levels.