Friday Five: Oscar-Nominated Films in 2021

Chloe Zhao with her Oscars for best picture and best director

The 93rd Oscar ceremony was odd. It is a shame that it will be remembered for the fact that it was held in a train station and that half of the nominees weren't there. I would rather remember it as being the night that Chloe Zhao went home with the best director gong, making her only the second woman in the Academy Awards' history to do so. 

It was the night that the award for best picture was moved from its final glory spot to make way for the best actor picture because everyone expected Chadwick Boseman to win it, thus providing an emotional end to the ceremony. He didn't, and there wasn't. Anthony Hopkins won it for his role in The Father, and he wasn't even there - not even via Zoom - so everyone just shuffled awkwardly off-stage and anyone watching was left going, 'Wait, was that it?'

Frances McDormand in Nomadland

I haven't watched all of the nominations for best picture, but I have watched five of them, and as it's a Friday, it seems appropriate to do this:

5 of 2021 Oscar-Nominated Films I've Seen:

1. Mank - I finally watched Citizen Kane in preparation for this film. That's probably the best thing about it. Writer, Jack Fincher, and director, David Fincher, have created an homage to what many critics consider the best film ever by celebrating the work of the disputed screenwriter, Herman J Mankiewicz. Black and white highly stylised cinematography, and a keep-your-eyes-on-the-prize performance from Gary Oldman make this an artistic exercise but not necessarily a great picture. Sure, if you're into Hollywood history and you care about William Randolph Hearst and the background to the film, it would be one to add to the bingo cards of name-dropping references, but it's all a bit smug and self-assured.  And I'm just a bit tired of watching men stand or sit around and shout at each other.
2. Nomadland - Frances McDormand plays Fern, a woman who is 'not homeless but houseless' as she travels the United States looking for work as if in a modern version of The Grapes of Wrath. She is seen cleaning toilets in truck stops, boxing up goods in the soulless Amazon warehouse, or sorting beets in Hardy-esque scenes, but there are also wide sweeping vistas of the incredible scenery of this beautiful country - the sunsets and dawn are breathtaking, despite the harsh bleakness of landscape, often boiling in summer and literally freezing in winter. She meets up with other itinerants (many playing versions of themselves as the characters of the original source material book) as they all traverse the land that doesn't belong to anyone, and they talk of seeing each other again 'down the road'. These people reject the American dream of home ownership and fixed roots; they do not claim exclusivity and nights spent in houses - that of her sister or companion, Dave (David Strathairn) - are claustrophobic and limiting. There is only a finite space for self-made millionaires, capitalist growth and rampant individualism - the rest of us have to share the planet, and the conversations held at a closed dinosaur park are laden with metaphor. At the awards ceremony, McDormand howled like the 'lone wolf' that Americans like to admire, calling on their romanticised visions of outlaws, cowboys and pioneers, but the reality is very different and isolation is often not chosen but due to circumstance. Many of these travellers have lost their position in life and society because they can't afford to pay for their medical needs, and the film is a searing indictment of the plight of older people and the truth of the health 'industry' in the States. Nothing is definite - friendship; parting; life itself - and humanity is found in home-made spas and campfire meals: they may travel alone but there is beauty when they come together. 



3. Promising Young Woman - Yes, we’re f*#^ing angry! I loved this film; not sure it was entirely suitable for date night! Carey Mulligan is amazing and the treatment of this horrendous material is sensitively handled by director, Emerald Fennell. At times it has a graphic novel/ raunchy thriller vibe, because, like, how else are you going to get the entitled would-be rapist frat-boys to watch it, right? These are the boys that whine, ‘Why do you have to ruin everything?’ when a woman dares to stop their 'fun' with an accusation of abuse.
4. Sound of Metal - If you're a drummer in a metal band who loses his hearing it must be very tough personally and professionally. Riz Ahmed portrays Ruben going through this nightmare, and we suffer through it all with him. His movements and facial expressions are simultaneously contained and eloquent, and he fully deserves his best actor nomination.  It seems to encompass the experiences of the deaf community, but what would I know? The film plays with sound in a way that enhances more than it limits and is a total shoo-in for the newly created 'sound' Oscar (which combines the previous sound editing and sound mixing awards). Our hero is also a recovering heroin addict, and his world is insular as a result, which is naturally self-obsessed and not appealing. This is doubtless a deliberate ploy by director Darius Marder, but it risks putting style over engagement.
5. The Trial of the Chicago 7 - We know what to expect from writer and director, Aaron Sorkin: lots of sharp dialogue and walking and talking down corridors. We know what to expect from a courtroom drama about Vietnam War protestors: disparate voices of Students for a Democratic Society; Youth International Party; National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam; Black Panthers; all of whom are charged with trying to incite a riot at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August 1968. The lawyers, Schulz and Kuntsler battle it out in front of a prejudiced judge who is suspected of senility. We know what to expect from the outstanding ensemble of actors playing these parts including Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Rylance, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Michael Keaton: passionate dedication to a script and a compelling delivery. And the film produces the goods, right down to the mawkish Dead Poets Society ending scene. It's a history lesson served up as entertainment. Exactly as expected.

It Comes to Us All: Reaper Man

Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

Corgi Books

Pp. 287

Reaper Man is the eleventh Discworld novel and fleshes out the character of Death, as it were. In this adventure, Death’s time is running out; things aren’t dying the way they should be, which interrupts the fabric of existence; and everything is “filling up the world with life force.” Windle Poons is the oldest wizard in the world, and he is supposed to die, but Death doesn’t show up to collect him, so he doesn’t. Instead, he becomes a member of the Fresh Start Club, a dead rights activism group led by Reg Shoe and comprising other undead folk, such as a vampire and his wife who is desperately trying to conform to stereotype; including wearing certain clothes and speaking with a strong Eastern European accent. We also encounter Ludmilla, a werewolf who changes from woman to dog at full moon, a male dog, Lupine, who changes to human form at the same time, and a bogeyman called Schleppel who likes to lurk behind doors, so much so that he carries his own with him.

Meanwhile, oblivious to all the chaos, Death assumes the mantle of Bill Door and finds work at Miss Flitworth’s farm as an actual reaper man, helping with the harvest, leading to an extended gag about a scythe vs a Combination Harvester. As his time runs out both literally and metaphorically through a sort of egg-timer/ hour glass, he attempts to fit in with the villagers, drinking beer and playing darts. “It was amazing how many friends you could make by being bad at things, provided you were bad enough to be funny.” He is not used to living, which he finds odd, but also confronting. “Was that what it was really like to be alive? The feeling of darkness dragging you forward? How could they live with it? And yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair.”

Delightful cameo appearances and side swipes at conventional wisdom, recall a fantasy Dickens. Mrs Cake is a clairvoyant who is able to answer questions before people have asked them – they still have to ask them anyway. The faculty wizards at the Unseen University get all sorts of things muddles, which makes for moments of humour, for example, when the Archdeacon (Ridcully) suggests that an RSVP is requested to an invitation, the Bursar exclaims, “Oh, good, I like sherry.” Ridcully himself is “simple-minded. This doesn’t mean stupid. It just meant that he could only think properly about things if he cut away all the complicated bits around the edges.”

The plot is suitably fanciful as evil snow globes hatch into shopping trolleys that converge on places, operating like worker ants or bees around a queen. This might or might not be the case; it is difficult to know for sure. As with all of Terry Pratchett’s work, there is a comically reverent tone to the rituals of human life. He refers to belief as an entity that “sloshes around in the firmament like lumps of clay spiralling into a potter’s wheel” seeking to attach itself to things, such as gods and icons.

Despite all this absurdity and hilarity, there is a touching homily on the nature and meaning of life. “No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away – until the clock he wound up winds down, until the wine she has made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life, they say, is only the core of their actual existence.” Terry Pratchett is comfort reading for a variety of reasons: his turn of phrase; his ridiculous characters; his twinkling humour and his gentle satire, but above all it is his strong moral compass that truly points the way and keeps his readers coming back.