Every year, after viewing all the Best Picture nominees, I rank them based on my assessment of their worthiness for the Best Picture award. Note that this is not a prediction of who will win, but rather a statement of how I would vote if I could and how I'd rank the also-rans.
2018 was not one of those years where I think we'll look back a decade later and go, "Oh yeah, 2018 was the year that [fill in the blank] came out!", like how 2014 was the year that Boyhood and Birdman both stretched filmmaking in different ways or how 2010 was the year The Social Network was robbed by The King's Speech in the worst selection since Shakespeare in Love beat Saving Private Ryan in 1998. The eight nominated films (and even a couple of the films that didn't get nominated) are all really good pieces of cinematic art, but I don't know that any of them will turn out to be memorable.
8. Bohemian Rhapsody
If Bohemian Rhapsody were to duplicate the second half of the film, with Freddie Mercury's redemption with his band and the subsequent powerful performance at Live Aid, the film would be much higher on this list. Unfortunately, the beginning of the film is a muddled mess, perhaps brought on by some of the behind the scenes drama that saw this film have multiple directors. The movie skips over key interactions among the characters that would establish their relationships, instead choosing to have each character state the relationship verbally. This saps the film of all power during the early tumult. When the band members say they're a family, there's no real feeling of family there -- it's only later when the band actually shows itself to be a family that the emotions become real. It honestly feels like pages of scripts were either skipped over or cut out late without thought to the consequences.
Points for casting Littlefinger as a non-villain.
The real strength of Bohemian Rhapsody is the way Rami Malek disappears into Freddie Mercury. He earned every bit of his Best Actor nomination (and the awards he's racked up to date). He brings a wonderful mix of passion, vulnerability, whimsy, and strength to his Mercury, and really carries the film through its second half comeback to high quality. I dare you to watch the Live Aid recreations and not want to immediately go find the real performance on YouTube.
It's impossible to picture a better Freddie Mercury than Rami Malek.
Ultimately though, no other nominated film was as blemished as Bohemian Rhapsody. Honestly, there were several films that didn't get a nomination that I would place above it.
7. The Favourite
The Favourite is one of those films that seems to come up in ones or twos every year where you almost feel that they have to feel satisfied to be nominated. Not that it's a bad film, but it's just not important. It's not reinventing cinema with new techniques. It's not tackling a critical issue in today's society. It's not telling an important historical story that helps put our own world into perspective. It's not bringing a crucial part of literature or the other arts to life. It's just a very solidly well done film, which is good enough to get a nomination, but doesn't put it even in the top half of the nominees.
Emma Stone is every bit as endearing and funny as ever, even when she plays mean.
The Favourite stars somehow-Best Supporting Actress nominees Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz who jump gleefully off the screen as rival members of Queen Anne's court, pull out every dirty trick in the book to attain and/or keep their place as the queen's right hand woman. Olivia Colman does a phenomenal job as the queen, who we learn is tortured and not actually crazy, and would probably be my pick for Best Supporting Actress if they hadn't for some reason put her up for Best Actress despite having less screen time than her supporting actress castmates. The entire rest of the cast is pretty much forgettable.
Kudos on the costuming and set design, though.
It's a very well done comedy film that, among other things, features Emma Stone in probably the best handjob scene to ever hit mainstream cinema. It's funny, well acted by its powerful leading ladies, and hits the spot. But it's also largely a puff piece, with really one thoughtful moment at the end, when Queen Anne reminds her newly victorious subordinate that being on the top rung of the court still puts you far below royalty. That's far from enough to make it a Best Picture.
6. BlacKkKlansman
BlackKkKlansman, on the other hand, is that film that gets nominated because of its importance despite having many flaws. It presents an at times whimsical story of a plucky young African American cop in 1970s Colorado who, out to prove himself as a potential detective, sets up an ongoing sting of the KKK. You would think that infiltrating a hate group, especially as someone from the group that is hated, would be the subject of a taut thriller, but instead, Spike Lee undercuts his own tension throughout the film, making even the tense moments seeming to not be all that harrowing.
The addition of the love story, though tangential to the main plot, is still a distraction.
John David Washington plays Ron Stallworth, the real-life black undercover klansman, while Adam Driver earns a supporting nod as the fictional partner (Stallworth's real life partner has never been acknowledged for security purposes) who actually meets with the klan face to face given that Stallworth would not make for a very believable racist in person. Topher Grace plays a David Duke who was basically Topher Grace with a mustache and bad haircut. None of the rest of the cast really warrants mention, which helps explain why it's so far down this list.
Even in a Klan robe, he still looks like he's lecturing Kelso.
The film is grossly inaccurate (the plot the police strive to break up is not the same plot that Stallworth helped break up in real life), but I think by now we've given up on historical accuracy from our films that are "based on a true story". What really sinks the film for me is how off the tone feels at times, with digressions and jokes seeming to rob the movie of any forward momentum. Spike-isms are abundant throughout, including the really, really old use of a tracked cart to move people who were supposed to be running (I would still love to be behind the scenes in a Spike Lee-Tom Cruise movie as the two fight over how to shoot Cruise's character's running scenes). Really, the most powerful moment in the film (by far) is at the end when the movie closes with a new bunch of klansmen burning a cross within sight of Stallworth's apartment followed by real life clips from the Charlottesville march and subsequent violence from 2017 to show that we still haven't made nearly enough progress. But maybe we shouldn't have to wait for the closing credits to get to that point.
5. A Star is Born
A Star is Born begins the part of this list where I wouldn't be terribly upset if it won Best Picture (though I would be surprised). A remake of the 1976 remake of the 1954 remake of the 1937 original, this year's edition (perhaps thankfully the film decided to take the 1990s off) lives up to its predecessors, who all managed to leave an imprint on motion picture history. Starring Bradley Cooper, produced by Bradley Cooper, directed by Bradley Cooper, and featuring a script by Bradley Cooper (who may or may not have catered the movie set as well), A Star is Born also stars Lady Gaga, who does a very good job with the material. Her Ally Maine (wife of Cooper's Jackson Maine) is a little weakly defined in the beginning (the filmmakers seem unsure whether Ally is overwhelmed or completely and confidently in charge of her life in these early scenes) but really comes together into a tour de force for Gaga about midway through, allowing the pop superstar to really show her acting stuff in the late stages of the film.
And oh yeah, she can sing pretty well, too.
Cooper himself does a creditable job himself, and you get the feeling that if he keeps working on getting rid of his still-present-but-not-as-much tics (like smiling goofy smiles with manic eyes at awkward times) from being someone destined to replace the likes of Hanks, Washington, and Day-Lewis in Hollywood's leading man pantheon. His Jackson manages to be troubled without being unlikable, which is extremely hard to pull off, and Jackson's method of handling what he saw as the no-win situation he was in was powerful and moving. Sam Elliott also shines as Jackson's brother, an admittedly very Sam Elliott kind of character.
Every family needs Sam Elliott as an uncle.
Could A Star is Born have been better? Perhaps making Ally a bit more consistent in the beginning. Maybe reducing the number or duration of the big "talk out your problems" scenes. Maybe making the scenes leading up to Jackson's decision more powerful (Rafi Gavron does not do those moments justice in his role as Ally's manager). These are somewhat quibbles, but at this level of filmmaking, those quibbles (or lack thereof) are what separates Oscar winners from the rest of the pack.
4. Black Panther
Black Panther being this high up on the list might be a surprise to some, but what would be more surprising is that at different times, it appeared anywhere from number 5 to number 1. It's a superhero genre film yes, but it's an almost perfectly formed superhero genre film with a little bit to say. It's also a genre film with a great villain, which helped send another genre film, Silence of the Lambs, to Best Picture status at the 1992 Oscars.
Black Panther picks up just after Captain America: Civil War, with the young prince T'Challa (Chadwick Boseman) about to take the rites to become king of his technologically advanced nation of Wakanda. With all of its vibranium-driven tech, Wakanda could easily subjugate the world if it wanted, but instead the nation's tradition is one of hiding in plain sight, building an extensive spy network and keeping the world at large completely in the dark as to what wonders they've managed to create for themselves. Michael B. Jordan's Eric Killmonger, a terrorist with ties to the ancient nation, has other ideas and challenges the new king for control of both the reins and the heart of the nation. All kinds of really good superhero action takes place as a result.
Though there are some aspects of Jordan's performance that I didn't get as much out of as other audience members.
But what sets Black Panther apart from other superhero movies (really, almost all action movies of any subgenre) is that its action is clothed in a philosophy that provides some food for thought (the only prior superhero movie to accomplish this was The Dark Knight, whose Best Picture exclusion caused the Academy to rethink how many films to let into the race -- since then, Avengers: Infinity War has also managed this accomplishment). To a certain degree, Killmonger is right, and his impact on T'Challa is palpable. It also manages to be poignant, funny (in a non-disruptive way -- something Taika Waititi might want to study), and thrilling. In other words, it's a damn good movie.
And did I mention the action?
It's not perfect, mind you, which is why it settles below the films ahead of it. There are a few plot holes involving T'Challa's decision making during critical moments (though some of the seemingly most egregious ones can be explained by T'Challa's inherent nobility, a trait his own father warned him was not good for being king) and why, considering Wakanda had spies everywhere, no one bothered keeping track of Killmonger throughout his life. These are nits, but nits that the films ahead of it on this list don't seemingly have. But even if it doesn't win Best Picture, Black Panther showed the world how a legitimately great superhero film can be made.
3. Roma
Roma, like Black Panther, was difficult to place on this list, but for slightly different reasons. Black Panther has to overcome the difference of genres, bridging the gap between superhero film and Best Picture nominee. Roma also has a gap to bridge, but in this case it's cultural. I'm not talking about the fact that it's in a combination of Spanish and Mixtec, but rather the fact that the actors portraying the characters are so reserved in their craft. It's a different feel than a modern American (or British) film, where the actors push forward their portrayals, even seeming to be actively quiet. That doesn't happen here in Roma, and that sets up a very different tempo to the film than an American audience is used to. That doesn't make its film craft any lesser, but it does add difficulty in trying to discern if something noticeably off is off because of the cultural translation or because it's legitimately a flaw.
It makes it difficult when characters are either much more sedate than I would expect (which is often Cleo, the main character played by Yalitza Aparicio in her very first role ever) or much more aggressively emotive or manic than I'd expect (which is almost every other character in the film at different times). Is this culturally accurate? I don't have the knowledge to say. If it is, then everything's great. If it's not, then here are the flaws that should knock it out of contention. I'm choosing to interpret it as a bit of both given the relative inexperience of some of the main cast.
Drama, drama, drama.
However, that doesn't prevent Roma from being a dazzling film to watch. The cinematography by Alfonso Cuarón is absolutely stunning. There are too many shots worth mentioning to list them all, including a wonderfully difficult tracking shot done at the beach, but the one every film student should examine is the fire scene, when a bunch of revelers are called from their party to put out a fire. Seeing such a difficult visual environment of a nighttime blaze in an otherwise dark forest area with every person on screen clearly yet seemingly naturally lit -- in black and white, mind you -- just reminds you how much craft there is to the art of great filmmaking. Watching Roma brought to mind John Ford's great films, and I'd love to put the fire scene up against some of the nighttime scenes from, for example, My Darling Clementine just to see how they relate in the use of light and shadow.
Seriously, look at how beautiful this is.
Roma is a personal story of Cleo's professional and love life within the context of the tumult surrounding the family she works for, who are going through their own substantial drama within the context of the political happenings of the time. When these different layers intersect and mix is where Roma attains a sort of narrative magic that help pushes the film forward. It's a surprising amount of complexity that Cuarón wrings out of a relatively straightforward story structure, and truly is a joy to experience.
2. Green Book
Green Book is one of those films that attains its spot on the list thanks to doing everything exceedingly well. It has a tight script, is well shot, and the lead actors are phenomenal. It tells a heartwarming tale of cross-race (and cross-sexuality) friendship set in a time of very little tolerance and screened in a time of diminishing tolerance. It's a timely film, even if it doesn't say enough about our current world to warrant Important Film status.
Some have complained about the film having a white savior complex, but I don't see that here. Instead, I see a film that shows a friendship in which both partners bring something fundamental to the table. It also flips the script on so many other black-white friendship movies like The Green Mile and The Shawshank Redemption in that here the African American part of the team is the learned, cultured scholar teaching the relatively coarse white partner the finer aspects of civilization while the caucasian part of the team is the streetwise, physical half of the tandem.
Seriously, I don't quite see this as putting the white guy over the black guy.
Green Book fills the Best Picture nomination spot for the straightforward, well-acted comedy that tells a culturally significant true(ish) story, much like Philomena, which preceded it by a few years. And as with Philomena, it perhaps rises a little too high up my list as a result. But any film that can ably make me laugh (and laugh quite hard at times), think, and have my emotions swell in the same two hours deserves real consideration.
Green Book's success as a film is particularly driven by the great work of its stars. Viggo Mortensen jumps off the screen as Italian-American blue collar worker and neighborhood tough guy with the heart of gold Tony Vallelonga. Mahershala Ali may well win another Oscar as the erudite Carnegie Hall pianist Don Shirley. Mortensen and Ali have considerable chemistry, and both live up to their Oscar-worthy resumes. Mahershala Ali in particular makes the case that, once filmmakers start consistently giving him starring roles instead of supporting actor roles (though you can make a great case that Ali was a lead actor here and his nomination in the supporting category is just gamesmanship), he'll be the next pantheon actor of our time.
Mahershala Ali can make even quiet moments compelling.
In the time I've been making my list, Green Book has wandered everywhere from number two to number four. I can't put it in front of my number one choice, but a film so well done can't fall far.
1. Vice
Vice was not one of those "it's obviously an Oscar favorite even while I'm watching it the first time" films for me, but as I was sorting the list out, it became apparent that Vice was the only film that really made me feel like I had seen something new in filmmaking. And really, that's a major part of what pushes a movie to the top of my Best Picture list.
Of course, I've been here before with director Adam McKay, having picked The Big Short as my Best Picture for 2015 when it was up against a similar list of films that did not present a clear and easy favorite. While I still stand by that pick, The Big Short fell, well, short, against Spotlight, a film that I said could easily be my Best Picture despite listing it at number three. I fully expect something similar to happen, as I think McKay ends up being a little too edgy for many Academy voters. Still, here we are.
Vice shares quite a bit with The Big Short in terms of having a satirical flavor while explaining some of the complex concepts surrounding major issues the film takes on. Instead of using random celebrity encounters to take the audience to school (who can forget Margot Robbie in a bathtub?), Vice uses a single narrator to provide the necessary context and lectures. If you're like me, trying to figure out who the narrator is will bug you throughout the film until they finally reveal their identity, at which point you'll think, "Whooo, they went there!"
I mean, really.
The script is funny and informative, the directing is crisp and innovative, and the acting is stellar. Christian Bale absolutely transforms himself into Dick Cheney, physically and emotionally. Sam Rockwell somehow conjures George W. Bush out of a drawl and a relaxed face, eschewing any attempts to make himself look exactly like the former president entirely. Amy Adams and Steve Carrell also shine as Lynne Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld.
Though he did have to go with some hair graying for later scenes.
I don't think Vice necessarily tells a completely true story, getting a little too deep into conspiracy theory land for my taste, but as a film, it's a stunning example of op-ed cinema, combining with TheBig Short to introduce perhaps a new genre of live action film.
I could see any of my top five getting the actual Best Picture trophy this year, but if you ask me, Vice is my Best Picture of 2018.
Every year, I pick my winners among the categories where I've seen the majority of nominees. This year, that makes 15 categories I've made my selections in (plus one I've predicted but not selected). These reflect only who I'd vote to give the Oscar to if I could, and not an attempt to predict who will win. In the past my picks have largely coincided with the Academy's selections, but they can easily diverge, especially this year, where clear winners aren't apparent in many categories.
Best Picture
I've already posted my rankings of the nominated films, and my top selection is Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. I thought last year's race (where I picked Moonlight over La La Land and others) was open, but really I could see any of my top four or five films be selected. It seems most people think The Shape of Water is Three Billboard's main competition, and though one scene really pulled me out of it, the rest of the film was so good, I'd be happy for its win. I do wish more people recognized the craft that went into The Post, though. In addition, there's been a popular push for Get Out, which is only special for things outside of the movie itself; if it wins, I'll be happy for Jordan Peele, but disappointed in the Academy.
Best Director
I'm not sure I've picked with the Academy on this since Ang Lee for Life of Pi, so I don't honestly expect Christopher Nolan to win for Dunkirk, but that's who I'd give the statue to. I fully expect Guillermo del Toro to win for The Shape of Water, and he did a fine job crafting a nuanced film with a story that could easily have turned into camp. But I believe Nolan should be recognized for beautifully pulling together a film that seems like in the hands of most directors would have been impossible to make. The vastly different scales of timelines in Dunkirk was a major hurdle to overcome, as well as tackling the sheer scale of the operation. This comes the closest to matching Hollywood's old epics like Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments, or Spartacus in terms of technical difficulty.
Best Actor
This is really Gary Oldman's to lose in a relatively week year in this category. Denzel Washington, who should have won last year, played a bit of a caricature with Roman J. Israel, Esq.Phantom Thread did not feature Daniel Day Lewis's greatest work. Timothée Chalamet did an admirable job for his first major starring role, but basically played a moody teenager through most of the film. And honestly, I was surprised to see Daniel Kaluuya even nominated. Oldman really managed to disappear into his role as Winston Churchill. It's the kind of performance where you easily slip away from thinking you're watching an actor pretend to be someone famous and instead the real-life person is talking and moving in front of you. That type of taking on the full persona of a famous person, whether it's Day Lewis's Lincoln, Scott's Patton, or Ben Kingsley's Gandhi, usually results in a statue. Here, it's definitely well deserved.
Best Actress
I think Frances McDormand should run away with this in a strong slate of nominees this year. Her Mildred Hayes was multi-dimensional to a degree that none of the other nominees can claim. Part of the strength of Three Billboards is that its characters shift along the spectrum between hero and villain (sometimes quickly), and that provides McDormand an almost unfair opportunity to demonstrate her craft. Of the others, I greatly appreciate Meryl Streep's almost meek performance as Katharine Graham and Sally Hawkins's emotive performance without the benefit of speech. If it weren't for McDormand's tour de force, I'd want to hand the statue to Hawkins. Both Saoirse Ronan and Margot Robbie gave excellent performances, but they both would benefit from getting the chance to take on more nuanced characters. Ronan has particularly shone recently in coming of age movies, and I have to wonder what she can accomplish in an even meatier film.
Best Support Actress
I have not yet had the chance to watch Mudbound, so I can't pick Mary J. Blige, who's making a surprise visit in the Oscar nominations. Of the remaining, I feel it's really a race between the two bad moms of the category, Allison Janney for LaVona Fay Golden in I, Tonya and Laurie Metcalf as Marion McPherson in Lady Bird. Janney's been getting a lot of the pre-Oscar awards, and I would not begrudge her getting the Oscar, but for me the winner should be Metcalf. Golden does not really have a character arc throughout I, Tonya: she's just a greedy, abusive mother throughout. McPherson, on the other hand, goes through a range of emotions. The airport scene in which McPherson melts from an anger to acceptance to sorrow as her daughter prepares to leave is a wonderful bit of acting that few actors seem to pull off when offered the opportunity. I would hand her the Oscar in a moment.
Best Supporting Actor
When in doubt, give the Supporting Oscar to the actor who excelled in a role that conceivably could have been put up in the leading category. Viola Davis provided a good example of that last year. In this case, it's Sam Rockwell as the villain/hero in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri that is the obvious choice here. His Deputy Jason Dixon runs a full gamut of lunacy and heroics throughout the film. It is an exemplary performance and his Oscar will be well deserved. If somehow Rockwell doesn't win, I'd kind of like to see Willem Dafoe get it for his solid work in the criminally underappreciated The Florida Project (see my notes on it in my Best Picture rankings for more on that). Really, everyone in this category did a great job, though I was less impressed by Christopher Plummer, who did a yeoman job filling in at the very last minute for the disgraced Kevin Spacey and essentially duplicated his character from The Inside Man.
Best Original Screenplay
This is an excellent slate of nominees, and I wouldn't be disappointed with any of them winning. I kind of want The Big Sick to win, but I think that's more my emotional attachment to the film speaking than a real studied examination of it in comparison to its competitors. I think if I were to set that aside, it would come down to Greta Gerwig's Lady Bird, whose dialogue sings to me in a way that the other films don't, so that will be my official pick (though I'll be rooting for Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani). I honestly don't know who the Academy will select for this one, and predictions seem to be all over the map.
Best Adapted Screenplay
I'm hamstrung a bit by not having seen Mudbound here. Of the others, I'm not overwhelmed by any of the options. Call Me By Your Name has some ridiculously sounding moments in it, which helped push it down my Best Picture rankings. Logan was a movie I actually could have seen getting a nomination for Best Picture, but I'm not sure how much of that has to do with its script. Molly's Game is great, but it's just a bit too Aaron Sorkin-y, as if he was working without an editor to rein in some of his verbal and stylistic excesses. That leaves what I believe will be my pick, The Disaster Artist, which was laugh out loud funny yet manages to be poignant at the same time. I was somewhat disappointed that the film didn't get a Best Picture nod, so here's its chance to take home a statue.
Best Animated Feature
I'm not picking this category, because I've managed to not watch a single one of the nominees. However, when thinking about it, I point back to a list of three criteria I invented a few years ago:
A nominated film should have seen wide release to win. The larger populace that votes for the eventual winner in Animated Feature seems to not do the same level of homework that it might do for the bigger awards like Best Picture, so to have a real shot, a contender has to be one the voters already know something about.
Innovation helps, at least to some extent. Some animated nominees were the first to really try some major new technique. I don't think this criteria trumps the first one, but it may help break a tie.
The winner is often the one that, if shot as a live action film, would still have significant merit. If the story transcends the animation, you may have a winner.
Given these, I'm not sure I'd go with The Breadwinner, which was barely seen in the U.S., or Loving Vincent, which had a slightly larger audience, but mostly in art house theaters. Of the remaining three, I don't think Boss Baby or Ferdinand would become a live action film anyone would take seriously. Out of elimination, I'd expect Coco to probably be my pick. If I'd actually seen any of them.
Best Cinematography
In this category, I've seen neither Mudbound nor Blade Runner 2049. Of the remaining three, I think the easy pick for me is The Shape of Water, which is absolutely gorgeous.
Best Production Design
I've still not seen Blade Runner 2049, and I haven't seen Beauty and the Beast, either. Of the others, again, I have to go with The Shape of Water. Every scene could almost be a painting.
Best Visual Effects
Setting aside Blade Runner 2049, I am largely impressed with the other nominees, but three of them have little moments that take me out of the film at times. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is a solid Marvel entry, but moments like Yondu's Mary Poppins bit looks a little too soundstagey to keep the illusion going. Similarly, there are some problems when Kong interacts with humans Kong: Skull Island. Star Wars: The Last Jedi would be my pick if it weren't for that horrible chase scene on Canto Bight. That leaves War for the Planet of the Apes, which continues to create lifelike movie stars out of motion captured apes. War gets my pick.
Best Animated Short
Honestly, I'd give it to any nominee other than the incredibly self-indulgent Dear Basketball, in which Kobe Bryant verbally masturbates over his career. Garden Party is some dark stuff, a film that starts off innocuously but then fills you in little by little about the what's really behind the initially playful scene. Negative Space is a touching, if warped, remembrance of a lost loved one. Revolting Rhymes is a capable adaptation of Roald Dahl, though only the first part of the two part story is nominated. I think for me the best of this set is Lou, Pixar's latest nominee, in which a bully learns the meaning of sharing.
Best Live Action Short
I'm torn on this category, which is relatively weak compared to years past. The best acted (by far) of the nominees is The Eleven O'clock, which is also the only trifle of the set. The Silent Child connected with me the most, but its theme of pro-help for deaf children doesn't have the same power as the other three. Of the others, we see a take on school gunmen (Dekalb Elementary), heroism in the face of terrorism (All of Us), and historical racism (My Nephew Emmett). Of these, I think I would have to pick My Nephew Emmett, which dramatizes the murder of 14 year old Emmett Till in 1955 Mississippi at the hands of racists wanting to execute him for a (falsely) reported advance on a white woman. My Nephew Emmett has to overcome some very dark lighting, but overall the historically important story is conveyed powerfully. Dekalb Elementary is somewhat handicapped by some wooden acting, and All of Us has to overcome some language and cultural issues in its communication of a positive message in a dark world.
Best Original Scores
I hate to just award this to Alexandre Desplat every year, but he keeps pumping out great film-specific scores. The Shape of Water is elevated by his music. If Desplat somehow doesn't win, I hope either John Williams gets it for a strong Star Wars: The Last Jedi entry that continues his overall Star Wars oeuvre or Carter Burwell for a very interesting score for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.
Best Original Song
For me, this comes down to a threeway competition between the ballad "Mystery of Love" from Call Me By Your Name, the anthem "Stand Up for Something" from Marshall, and the modern show tune "This is Me" from The Greatest Showman. I hate to go the obvious route and pick the show tune, but it really gets into your head and sends a positive message that many need to hear. It also plays a significant role in the film, is what you hope for in an Original Song winner.
Every year, after viewing all the Best Picture nominees, I rank them based on my assessment of their worthiness for the Best Picture award. Note that this is not a prediction of who will win, but rather a statement of how I would vote if I could and how I'd rank the also-rans.
2017 was a surprisingly minor year in films. I'm honestly not sure if we're going to remember this slate of films very clearly a few years down the road, aside from maybe recalling this as the year they nominated a funny horror flick directed and starring African Americans. As a result, this year's rankings were more difficult than usual to decide.
9. Phantom Thread
Phantom Thread is a very good movie. However, one has to wonder: If this weren’t Daniel Day Lewis’s final announced film, would it have been nominated?
Daniel Day Lewis shines as usual as top designer Reynolds Woodcock, a character name that appears to have escaped from the 50 Shades franchise. Vicky Krieps has her moments as Alma, the waitress seduced into Woodcock's world only to find that Reynolds is much more charming when courting than when you deal with him on a daily basis. There are really no other memorable performances, and that's too bad, because the film feels a little empty as a result.
I do kind of want a film just about the ladies in white, though. What do they do at the end of their days?
Part of the film's challenges is that it doesn't seem to go far enough. Phantom Thread looks at genius and the darkness that comes with it, but it doesn't go very far down that path. Similarly, it looks at dysfunction within relationships of volatile and somewhat deranged people (to the point that during the film I wondered if this should be considered Britain's answer to Gone Girl), but again pulls back on the reins just a bit. There's a twist at the end, but I found it more curious than perception altering. Ultimately, it doesn't feel like the movie's trying to do anything other than present a relatively straightforward film about some wacky creative people and the messed up people who love them. That's enough to garner a nomination, I suppose, but it's not enough to appear anywhere near the tops of the rankings.
The film is as restrained as the many in-the-car scenes shot throughout.
8. Call Me By Your Name
Call Me By Your Name is a very slow building coming of age film about life's first great heartbreak. But it also delves into the very modern story of complexities of sexual identity. It's an admirable tack on a classic plot, and the deftness with which the topic is addressed should be honored, as it was with its nomination. However, looking at it more closely purely as a film, things start to break down just a little bit, the tarnish seeing through the polish here and there.
There are solid performances throughout, with Timothée Chalamet nailing the moody teenager role. The film works primarily because of Chalamet's ability to handle the quiet moments: The final scene, with a lingering shot of Chalamet's Elio dealing with the aforementioned heartbreak, is possibly the signature shot of the entire film. Michael Stuhlbarg, as Elio's father, Dr. Perlman, is criminally underused, and it's his perspective on his own past that lends a context and an unspoken future for Elio. Armie Hammer, on the other hand, is getting a little long in the tooth to be playing the college student roles, and while his demeanor fits the inscrutable side of summer intern Oliver, Oliver's more open and joyous side feels a little awkward on Hammer.
Someday Stuhlbarg needs to be recognized for his reliably solid acting.
The direction is able, but there are several questionable moves, both with pacing and with cinematography. For example, in the early scene in which Elio and his girlfriend hop to the window to see Oliver arrive, the director has placed the camera on the bed with them, which bounces it as they get up. It was an interesting choice to make, and I was waiting to see that particular "camera as part of the scene" mechanism either explained (was this an important scene needing a particular point of view) or reused (creating a signature technique for the film). Neither was the case, which makes me believe it was perhaps done out of convenience. That's too haphazard for a film to be taken too seriously as a Best Picture candidate.
As a result, while Call Me By Your Name is a fine film that tells a very modern take on a classic plot well, it finds itself near the bottom of my rankings. Aside from the novelty of its premise, it really does nothing to make itself stand out. While many of the performances are stellar, none rise to being serious Oscar contenders. It's not the kind of movie that will stay with most moviegoers for the days after they leave the theater, which is what a good Best Picture candidate should do.
Though the significant number of shirtless scenes will stick with some.
7. Get Out
This has become a bit of a trendy pick, but I'm sorry, I just don't see it. Don't get me wrong, I think it deserves its nomination at least more than two other contending films. But as you'll see later, I felt it fell below a film that wasn't even nominated.
Some are praising Get Out for elevating the horror movie genre, but let's get something straight: Get Out is not a horror movie. Horror movies, first and foremost, attempt to frighten their audience. That doesn't happen here. Get Out instead does an excellent job using horror movie tropes to craft a story that discusses and somewhat explores cross-racial dispositions in current American society, but without actually being, you know, scary. At least not in the traditional sense. It's a brilliant use of a genre's shorthand to establish an atmosphere of implicit understanding on the part of the audience. Remove some of the horror film trappings such as the remote location in the woods or the odd acting background characters and you have a complete but fairly straightforward thriller structure. Adding these elements not only creates an instinctually unsettling atmosphere for the audience, it also immediately makes them sympathize for the protagonist, Daniel Kaluuya's Chris Washington, who we know has to be a generally good guy with minor flaws (in his case, smoking) because the main heroes of horror films are generally good people or else we might want to see them punished. Similarly, this shorthand causes us to assume an innocence to Allison Williams's Rose, which sets us up for the "big reveal", which ultimately isn't as earthshattering as, say, The Sixth Sense's climactic twist.
Am I the only one icked out at least slightly by the implications of Rose essentially prostituting
herself to potential victims? I mean, when she sits down for breakfast with her grandfather,
does she find herself remembering what his current penis felt like inside her?
The big sell for Get Out as a Best Picture candidate is its exploration of cultural appropriation and white liberal racism. But I find these elements flawed. Part of the conceit of this film is that its rich white people don't want to appropriate blackness, they want to actually be black, as if that Little Black Dress that should be in every woman's closet should be made of skin. But the beginning and end of the film both undercut this concept. For all the "black is in" talk of the movie, the myriad police shootings paint a different reality, as do incidents such as the Harvard professor being arrested for breaing into his own house or the former baseball player and Ivy Leaguer being questioned for shoveling snow outside of his own home. When we instinctively fear for Chris's safety as the police arrive (normally a sigh of relief for horror movie fans), it underscores the realities that black people face every day in America. Director Jordan Peele gets this, as evidenced in his discussion of the scene in interviews. But as a result, the fact that the white rich people happily transplanting themselves into young black people somehow never experience these aspects of black life in 21st century America rings so false that it ruined the movie for me. It's one thing for the rich white people to be this naive about black people's situation in America, but an entirely different thing for them to never have this naivete ended for them.
Ultimately, while well done and a promising start to Jordan Peele's new career as a film director, Get Out felt too much like an extended Twilight Zone episode to appear higher on this list.
Though seeing a modern auction featuring a black man as its
featured item was more than chilling.
6.5 The Florida Project
I want to take a moment and talk about a film that was not nominated, but should have been. Sean Baker's The Florida Project was one of the year's best films of the year that had more to say than many of the films on this list. The fact that it was not nominated was a travesty. Nerdwriter1 covered the film's graces far more expertly than I could, and I recommend anyone interested in this take to watch his video below (and go see the film if you haven't already). Few films unsettle me like this portrayal of the life of the modern poor in vacation destinations like Orlando, where mere blocks from the Magic Kingdom are the modern equivalent of projects and shanty towns. Baker paints a compelling picture of life in these hidden slums of Orlando, and the fact that it's done from the perspective of a child is all the more haunting. The Academy should be ashamed of themselves for failing to recognize this film.
6. Darkest Hour
Hollywood loves a good biopic, and so do I. Gary Oldman is absolutely stellar as Winston Churchill, one of the most intriguing world leaders to inhabit the 20th century. Darkest Hour is an able descendent of The King's Speech, showcasing the behind the scenes activities of one of the most important moments in British history, the beginning of World War II. Darkest Hour was aided somewhat by the fact that it was released mere months after Dunkirk, keeping the battle and evacuatlon fresh in moviegoers' minds while the characters discuss, debate, plan, and wait for Operation Dynamo to be carried out. Much like with many other Best Picture nominees over the years, including some winners (Spotlight, I'm looking at you), the fact that it can remain so riveting while consisting almost entirely of people sitting or standing around and talking is a testament to Darkest Hour's quality as a film.
And when I say talking, I mean a lot of talking.
In an odd way, Darkest Hour combines the themes of many of the Best Picture nominees. It hits on the difficulty of living with and/or working with an uncommon leader in much the same way that Phantom Thread portrays the difficulties of living with genius. It examines resilience during wartime, though on the home front instead of Dunkirk's battlefields. And it embraces political intrigue and the impact that lies and misconceptions can have in the prosecuting of war in a way that is not unrecognizable to The Post. Add in some racial concerns and a coming of age story, and we'd pretty much have a full set.
Lost among much of the military strategy and political intrigue is what I think highlights a riveting aspect of Churchill's persona: his ability to connect with common Brits while not having a clue about them. Having had his "V for Victory" hand gesture corrected by his secretary Miss Layton from one that has much more rude connotations, a scene meant to show how out of touch with the masses Churchill the man is, Churchill nonetheless finds himself to be a man of the people while surrounded by fawning Londoners on the tube in what I consider the real climax of the film (though traditionally one would call the "We will fight on the beaches" speech that he delivers just afterward the climax).
Darkest Hour is sixth on my list, and I do think the next five are more deserving of the Oscar, but this is the first film in the list I wouldn't completely question the Academy over if it should win.
I have a feeling that if Donald Trump hopped on the Metro, he'd
be greeted by a slightly different reaction.
5. Dunkirk
It seems like most recent years have seen at least one Best Picture nominee that is a technical filmmaking marvel. Dunkirk (and to a lesser extent, The Shape of Water) is 2017's. Dunkirk manages to tell a very expansive story with timelines that have varying durations but intersect in key, climactic ways without bogging the viewer down while building up a traditional linear narrative. By intermixing the ground, sea, and air elements of Operation Dynamo, Christopher Nolan avoids the slow build while also avoiding a situation where all the interesting action takes place in one frenetic intercut scene. Achieving this interwoven narrative structure was incredible technical work, even though little of it relied on technology.
Dunkirk is a story of intense bravery in the face of almost certain ruin. On the Mole, Kenneth Branaugh's Bolton and James D'Arcy's Winnant must keep the troops' morale up and organized while trying to save as many of them as possible from the encroaching Nazi hordes. At the same time, Fionn Whitehead's Tommy, Harry Styles's Alex, and Aneurin Barnard's Gibson must find a way to survive as their options for escape keep diminishing. On the sea, Mark Rylance's civilian boat captain Dawson and his tiny crew sail unarmed into war to rescue as many of their soldiers as possible. And in the air, Tom Hardy's Farrier speeds into battle to cover the evacutation despite knowing he will not have the fuel to return. These are the kinds of stories that make you want to run through a wall or charge a gun emplacement to save others, and the tales of their heroics and, at times, sacrifices bring real power to the film.
"When it is done and the German Air Force is in ashes, then you have my permission to die!"
If there was one downside to the film, it was that for the enlisted stars of The Mole storyline, Nolan put together a homogenous cast of actors. When film scenes move quickly, audiences depend on easy telltales to visually separate the characters throughout the action. When every meaningful role in those scenes is populated by a a young, dark haired, skinny, white guy in an Army uniform, it's hard to tell who's doing what. While I guess someone with different tastes than me might have instantly picked out which one was Harry Styles at all times, all the young soldiers just kind of blended together for me. Still, that's a relatively minor issue, especially since there was only so much diversity to take advantage of in the British Army of that era.
Seriously, is this World War II or Attack of the Clones?
4. Lady Bird
Lady Bird is a coming of age story, and Hollywood has more of these than it knows what to with them. Yet Lady Bird manages to be so nearly perfect a coming of age story that it feels uncommon. The film has a scintilating script the likes of which we've probably not seen since Juno, and Greta Gerwig the director knows how to get the most of Great Gerwig the screenwriter's words. Speaking those words and taking that direction is a strong cast, including multiple Oscar nominees, some of them not even for this film.
The star of the movie, of course, is Saorise Ronan as the titular Christine "Lady Bird" McPherson. Lady Bird is a dreamer, and she know she's destined for more than her teenage existence in the suburbs of Sacramento seems to promise. She is determined, intense, creative, and incorrigable, almost a modern teenaged Anne of Green Gables. Lady Bird desperately wants to stand out, but continuously struggles to figure out how. A typical teenager, she does not easily recognize her own responsibility for her troubles, but as most teenagers do, she learns. Saorise Ronan plays her with with an intelligent yet still somewhat childish intensity, and it really brings the character to life.
It's a beautiful fantasy that Lady Bird has built for herself. Too bad
that guy is gay and that's not her house.
But to me the real strength to Lady Bird is how fleshed out her parents are, in particular her mother. Most coming of age films that have strong, well-defined protagonists usually leave the parents as minor, poorly developed characters, but Lady Bird doesn't make that mistake. Laurie Metcalf's Marion McPherson is the pragmatic partner in her marriage to Larry McPherson, who's a dreamer much like Lady Bird. Larry indulges his daughter's passions with a hope and optimism that belies the depression he's been undergoing since losing his job. Marion feels the weight of keeping her family together and pushes her daughter to excellence to combat what she sees as failings and lost opportunities in her own life. Unfortunately, this leads her to becoming a negative influence in the family, as she becomes so used to saying no and expecting better that it takes over her entire dynamic with her daughter. As nearly complete opposites in terms of outlook and demeanor, Marion provides the perfect foil for Lady Bird. As I'll write about in a later post, Metcalf is my pick of Best Supporting Actress, and her scene driving away from and then back to the airport as her daughter leaves is an example of why she's so deserving of the statue. Rarely do you see a full range of emotions conveyed on a single face in a single take with a smooth, clear transition among them. That's some serious acting.
Sure, she doesn't have a bird on her shoulder, but should that matter?
3. The Shape of Water
The Shape of Water is another trendy pick for Best Picture, and honestly, if it wasn't for one unforgivable flaw, I might have it at the top of my list. But more on that in a paragraph or two.
It's rare that you get to experience fantasy on screen in a well-constructed, well-acted narrative. When you do, usually it's because Guillermo del Toro is the director, as is the case here. del Toro artfully weaves a unique tale of outcasts and romance with all the superficial trappings of a classic era science fiction/horror film that he manages to elevate well beyond their normal level. One does not normally associate an Oscar with a movie that can most simply be described as a love story between a mute girl and a fish man, but thanks to del Toro and his cast, The Shape of Water is engrossing, charming, and just a tiny bit precious.
While not perfect, the cast really delivers here. Sally Hawkins (as Elisa) and Doug Jones (as the monster) both have to overcome the challenge of connecting with the audience (and with their other cast members and each other) without being able to use speech, and they wildly succeed. Richard Jenkins is outstanding as Elisa's next door neighbor, a struggling advertising executive let go by his firm due to his "strange" (read: gay) qualities. Octavia Spencer plays a very Octavia Spencerish character in Zelda, Elisa's co-worker. Michael Stuhlbarg (there he is again) is solid as the sympathetic Dr. Hoffstetler, who happens to be a Russian spy. And Michael Shannon is perhaps just a bit too intense as Colonel Strickland, who, though he is the villain of the film, gets his own storylines to flesh him out from just simply being a force of brutality.
A movie just about these two guys might have been almost as fun.
My one complaint about The Shape of Water, and this may seem minor to some, is a single scene. In the midst of this roaring plot with various parties working at purposes that are at best orthogonal, del Toro derails the momentum with a poorly thought out fantasy sequence, in which Elisa, always the dreamer, envisions joining her monster in a Hollywood movie dance scene. This little touch of Young Frankenstein really derails the tension the film had built to that point in time, and such a misstep should not be present in a Best Picture winner. Remove that scene, and I might rank it tops for 2017.
There's only so much cuteness we can take in our monster movies, after all.
2. The Post
When I walked out of seeing The Post in the theater, I immediately hopped onto Facebook and posted, "You know what you get when you mix today’s most acclaimed director, the greatest actress of all time, and one of today’s best actors? You get fucking MAGIC, that’s what you get." I stand by that statement. In fact, until I started actually putting this article together, The Post was at the top of my draft rankings. So what happened? Well, the simple answer is that as I prepared to write about why the next film is number 2, I kept running out of reasons for why it shouldn't be number 1. But that's better covered in that film's discussion. For The Post, it's one hell of a movie and extremely timely, too.
A "based on a true story" film surrounding the publication of the Pentagon Papers, those pesky documents that revealed just how long the government knew we were completely screwed in the Vietnam War, The Post captures a high stakes battle between a President of the United States and the free press. This is custom-made for the Trump era, and it comes off as incredibly prescient of the filmmakers considering they had to have started the development process for this film long ago. Still, imagine a world in which this film comes out while President Hillary Clinton is defending herself from allegations brought by FoxNews, and the movie would take on a completely different tenor.
Spielberg is on point with this film, and it's to his credit that we just consider his filmmaking prowess to be "ho hum" today. Let's look at this: he took a story that everyone knows how it turned out yet few who weren't adults at the time really understand featuring abslutely no action whatsoever (here's looking at you again, Spotlight) and featuring a supporting cast of folks best known for their comedy (as well as the continuously underrated Michael Stuhlbarg, who yes, is in one third of the Best Picture nominees) and created a riveting, tension filled film. That's Apollo 13 territory.
Seriously, David Cross? Bob Odenkirk? In an Oscar nominated drama?
He was aided by having two of today's greatest living actors leading the way. Tom Hanks brings a previously unseen level of crustiness to his portrayal of Washington Post Executive Editor Ben Bradlee. It's not the strongest performance that Hanks has ever produced, but Bradlee's not the most dynamic character he's had to play, either. Still, he brings a level of comfort to the movie as the voice of authority and moral center to the film.
The real MVP is Meryl Streep, who Meryl Streeped the crap out of her role as Post owner Katharine Graham. As the events of the film unwind, Mrs. Graham finds herself in a web of uncomfortable options. She is in the midst of taking the paper public in order to ensure its financial survival while continuously being second guessed by her board and advisors as they compare her to her late husband and father, and the Pentagon Papers controversy threatens both the IPO and her position among the board. She's also a close personal friend of former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, and the controversy threatens not only that, but also her privileged position among White House elite. Streep's Katharine is vulnerable yet steely, and the deftness she's able to flip from one to the other (or combinations in between) is mesmerizing. I don't have her picked as Best Actress this year, but damn, she's earned every bit of her legend.
I'd seriously love to see them do another film together.
Should it be selected by the Academy, The Post will be very deserving. What finally caused me to change my mind has nothing to do with The Post, but everything to do with its challenger.
1. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (to be called Three Billboards for the next several sentences) is a dark, dark movie. But it's dark with a purpose. The complex makeup of its cast of characters is riveting. There are no clear heroes in the film, as even the primary protagonist, Frances McDormand's Mildred Hayes, falls to her own demons along the way. Perhaps the most innocent of all the characters is Peter Dinklage's James, the town dwarf/drunk who has a thing for the middle aged divorcee. But this is balanced by few full villains existing, either. The slimy advertising salesman sticks up for Mildred when pressured by the sheriff's office. Demented Deputy Jason Dixon swings from being the films onscreen villain to its protagonist (a swing deftly handled by Sam Rockwell, more on him later).
They do make a cute couple, don't they?
The superficial plot of Three Billboards is a mother's search for justice for her raped and murdered daughter. But that superficial plot is hiding a much deeper exploration of good and evil. As Mildred becomes less and less patient with the progress of investigations into her daughter's case, she acts more and more unhinged. Similarly, Deputy Dixon goes from being a bully trying to shut Mildred down to being her victim in an arson gone wrong to taking a heroic turn to try to get evidence against the possible murderer, and finally to a cool vigilante about to cross the country to bring someone else's rapist to a violent end. The fact that this final mission is left uncovered by the end of the film is part of its power. As the credits roll, the vigilante duo embark on a Schroedinger's cat of quests. They will both go through with the killing of the admitted rapist or they will stop themselves short. Which is ultimately "the truth" in our reality is left as an exercise to the viewer. The movie ultimately is about the light and dark in all of us and the blurring of the lines between hero and villain. And that's what makes this movie so great. It asks each of us to consider how far we'd be willing to go to right a wrong, and also at what point would we go from hero to villain (or back again) in doing so.
While the overall cast is uneven, the primary two characters are realized in tour de force fasion. Frances McDormand makes sure you feel Mildred's pain, and it's a performance that should garner her another Oscar. Sam Rockwell breathes Deputy Dixon, a part that seems tailor made for him. Few actors can embrace both goofy and dark, especially in the same role, like Rockwell can. He should be the runaway favorite for Best Supporting Actor, and part of that is due to the fact that Dixon comes within a hair's breadth of really being a lead character, especially once you realize this is his story, too. The moments, scant as they are, where the two are on screen together are electric, and I find myself wondering what else they might accomplish if paired together in future films.
Two actors who know how to do a face off.
In the end, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri convinced me because it has the best lead actress, the best supporting actor, and it's stayed with me the longest and has caused me to do the most thinking after leaving the theater. That's what a Best Picture should do.
