Awards fodder

After seeing The Fighter the other day, I realised I've now seen nine of the ten Best Picture nominees for the upcoming Oscars, which has given me a thoroughly undeserved sense of smugness. Six of these have been covered in one form or another in earlier ramblings - ok, technically five and a half due to the Winter's Bone fiasco. And I have no intention of seeing the tenth, True Grit, because - CONTROVERSIAL OPINION ALERT - I'm not a fan of the Coens. But still - check me out, eh?

Herewith some thoughts on the other three:

127 Hours has done pretty good box office considering the tough-sell subject matter, all of which is down to the tremendous reserves of public goodwill for Danny Boyle. These lay somewhat dormant for a while, perhaps down to his restless flitting between genres and consequent diminishing returns. Even so, it sounds incredible now that Slumdog nearly didn't get a theatrical release. It's much easier to see why Boyle didn't stay on the easy crowd-pleaser route after that globe-buggering success, and instead took the opportunity to bring to fruition one of the more challenging items on his to-do list.

That 127 Hours has still ended up as a crowd-pleaser is a testament to Boyle's extraordinary knack for kinetic, exciting film-making. For a movie whose protagonist spends most of its running time with a vital appendage crushed beneath a bloody great rock, it really is a rollercoaster ride and Boyle takes great delight in creating vivid hallucinatory sequences (no surprise that the soundtrack is top-notch too). He also teases a great performance from James Franco, who makes sure that the pre-boulder Aron Ralston doesn't merely come across as a show-off prick and that we stay with him as he grapples with his emotions throughout this ordeal.

I wasn't planning on seeing this, partly for squeamish reasons (I actually coped with that scene surprisingly well, although cf Black Swan below) and partly because I wasn't really convinced about spending that much time with a guy like Ralston. Simon Mayo's interview with Boyle on 5 Live, during which he decried standard "wilderness movies" and waxed passionately about Ralston's emotional journey, changed my mind, although for me the film wasn't quite the transcendent experience he made it out to be. Instead it'll just have to settle for being very good. Unlucky, Danny son.

I might as well confess right off the bat: I very nearly fainted during Black Swan. There could have been any number of reasons for this - maybe the combination of a virus and drinking wine on an empty stomach. It's happened a handful of times before, but always cold and flu-related and never when I've been sitting down, but for reviewing purposes let's pretend that this bonkers and disturbing film was entirely responsible.

The only previous Darren Aronofsky film I'd seen was The Wrestler, which sounds ultra-conventional compared to what I've heard about the others, so perhaps this was why even after hearing lots of cautionary feedback I was still unprepared for Swan's intensity. For the first 20 minutes or so nearly every shot is a close-up - those shots ease off, but the claustrophobia and unease remain throughout. If Natalie Portman didn't suffer terribly for her art when making this film it sure seems like it - hers is less a performance more a desperate struggle for footholds as her character Nina's fragile frame comes under fire from her director, her mother, her colleagues, her own flesh.

Portman's anguished emotions during the bulk of the film feel frighteningly real, but of course "reality" is not something Aronofsky is terribly interested in here. He seems to be having a whale of a time as Nina's mental state slips its mooring and he's inviting us to believe any number of transformations are happening either in her head, or in ours, or neither, or both. And it has to be said the audience reaction to the more obvious BIG SHOCK MOMENTS was tremendous, especially for one masturbation scene.

Ultimately it's difficult to know quite what to make of Black Swan. It's certainly a bravura directorial display, but to what end? For isn't Mark Kermode right when he says it's purely a genre film? And that's fair enough if you're a sucker for psychological horrors, but for those of us who aren't inured to such things is it not just a little too overwhelming and dark? (Even if it doesn't induce fainting in most normal folk.) Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer something with a bit more of an emotional anchor.

Which brings us to The Fighter, which I was surprised to discover was originally an Aronofsky project too. Presumably he didn't fancy getting typecast after The Wrestler, although the two movies differ in plenty of ways. That film followed a well-worn formula but had an inherent sadness and never gave the viewer the impression that everything would turn out fine (though compared to Black Swan it's fucking Disney). In its depiction of pugilist "Irish" Mickey Ward's bumpy road towards the world championship, The Fighter follows the standard sports movie template almost to the letter, somewhat surprisingly given that director David O Russell's last film was the all-over-the-place I Heart Huckabees way back in 2004.

Amy Adams's feisty performance as our hero's girlfriend also confounded me. I'd never seen Ms Adams in a film before, and had convinced myself this was because she'd only ever appeared in girlie/kiddie fodder like Enchanted and Julie and Julia. Of course her filmography contains all sorts of stuff, and from this evidence I was giving her a severe disservice. She can't hope to keep up with Christian Bale, however, who gurns and fidgets his way through the film in a hyperactive portrayal of Ward's crack-addled older brother and trainer. An Oscar will surely be his. Meanwhile Melissa Leo is scarily convincing as their domineering mother, and the actresses playing the various Ward sisters are... well, just downright scary.

The one performer who doesn't stand out is Mark Wahlberg, as even though it's the title role he's really only a reactive presence, trying to remain calm while familial madness threatens to engulf him from all sides. Arguably this makes the film stronger, as another grandstanding turn might have tipped it over from larger-than-life into outright fantasy. I enjoyed it a lot as a no-nonsense sorta movie. Sometimes the tough journey + blood, sweat and tears = sporting victory formula is just what you need.

So, who's going to win that Best Picture Oscar then? Or, more importantly, who do I think should take it? I'll rule out the three above, none of which seem quite the right fit. The Kids Are Alright will be happy just to be making up the numbers. Winter's Bone is at least half a decent film (yeah I know, sorry). Inception would be a popular choice, but it's certainly flawed no matter how much the sheer stylishness papers over the cracks. The Social Network is manifestly a Good Movie and I've nothing in particular against David Fincher but part of me can't help feeling that a different director might have tightened it up a tad. Toy Story 3 is wonderful and effortless fun but will an animation ever nab the top award? 

The one film in the list which left me thinking it was done about as well as could possibly be was The King's Speech - it really is a classy piece of work and I find it quite delightful (not to mention apposite) that audiences are applauding at the end of screenings. But it's the obvious winner and therefore it probably will get pipped at the last. So put your house on True Grit, in other words. It's probably a worthy winner. But what do I know?