Kerem, Maria, and Daniel got together to review the Oscars 2020, discussing everything from Parasite’s big wins to 1917’s big misses…

Give it a listen and be sure to follow us on Mixcloud.

The FilmSoc Blog team got together to predict some of the wins for this year’s Oscars, while championing our own personal favourites and calling out injustices for snubs. Do you agree with our choices?

Illustration by Verity Slade for The Washington Post

Blog Consensus: Best Picture

What Will Win: Roma 

What Should win: Roma

Runner up: The Favourite

Our team at the FilmSoc Blog took a poll and the results for both were overwhelmingly Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma, and interestingly even more of us believed that Roma will win as compared to should win. It will be well deserved – Roma has been gathering praise and accolades since its release on the festival circuits, and infused with Cuarón’s passion in this quiet, melancholic portrait of both the character of Cleo (first-time actress Yalitza Aparicio in a revelating performance) and Mexico City, there is no argument in whether it should win. However: no foreign language film has ever won Best Picture, and the Academy is not exactly known to be enthusiastic for them either. Nonetheless, it seems that Netflix this year not only has its eyes on the big prize, and will be taking it in a historical win, too.

Raphael’s Prediction for Best Director

Who Will Win: Alfonso Cuarón or Spike Lee

Who Should Win: Alfonso Cuarón or Paweł Pawlikowski

The ‘Best Director’ category of this year’s Oscars is both surprisingly diverse and uniform. With the nominations of Alfonso Cuarón, Paweł Pawlikowski, and Yorgos Lanthimos, there is a historically high proportion of non-American directors featured, at the paradoxical expense of deserving female filmmakers such as Lynne Ramsay for You Were Never Really Here or Chloé Zhao for The Rider. Adam McKay and Spike Lee make up the rest of the contenders. The BlacKkKlansman director earned his first nomination in this category 29 years after Do the Right Thing; he is the only black filmmaker to be nominated this year, considering the notable omission of Barry Jenkins for his Moonlight follow-up, If Beale Street Could Talk. Cuarón and Lee, in that order, appear to be the strongest candidates for the win, but personally, I am torn between the Roma and Cold War directors, whose black-and-white magnum opuses have stolen my heart. 

Sabastian’s Prediction for Best Actor 

Who Will Win: Christian Bale or Rami Malek

Who Should Win: Christian Bale or Willem Dafoe

This year sees some of the most prolific figures in both music and artistic history portrayed, from Vincent Van Gogh to Freddie Mercury. It’s undeniable that both Dafoe and Malek embody these roles remarkably well, with both performances carrying their respective films. In At Eternity’s Gate, Dafoe seems to strike a remarkable balance between acknowledging the status and history of Van Gogh whilst creating an original human character. In Vice, we see Christian Bale in yet another remarkably transformative role, this time as the villainous Dick Cheney; amidst the fat and the loathsome personality, one loses any sight of Bale the actor. It must be said that Bradley Cooper’s efforts in A Star Is Born, his directorial debut, are also impressive – the star physically hurt himself to lower the baritone of his vocals and lend authenticity to the role. Although it seems obvious that it’s Malek versus Bale, I would absolutely adore to see Dafoe recognised after coming so close with 2017’s The Florida Project. 

Sabastian’s Prediction for Best Actress

Who Will Win: Yalitza Aparicio or Lady Gaga

Who Should Win: Olivia Colman or Yalitza Aparicio

This year hosts a very interesting range of nominees, from Lady Gaga for (A Star Is Born) to Melissa McCarthy (Can You Ever Forgive Me?) – both contenders who honestly surprised me with their performances in such serious roles. Olivia Colman, nominated in this for her role in The Favourite, would be a shoe-in for Best Supporting were she nominated, and Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz both equally deserve Best Actress undoubtedly, though they were nominated for Best Supporting. What I will say about Colman is that she is lovely, hilarious, and heartbreaking from one beat to the next as Queen Anne. She is able to encapsulate devastating grief and a lapse in sanity immediately after light and playful banter with ease. She’s finally being given the full attention she’s deserved for a long time. If not Colman, then Aparicio deserves this win for her role in Roma; the teacher-turned-acting powerhouse is one of the shining examples of an untapped wealth of talent coming from Mexico.

Sabastian’s Prediction for Best Supporting Actress

Who Will Win: Regina King or Rachel Weisz/Emma Stone

Who Should Win: Rachel Weisz

Starting with the obvious, Amy Adams does not deserve an Oscar for her role Lynne Cheney in Vice; she deserved it for 2016’s Arrival, but sadly that time has passed. Regina King obviously deserves recognition for her portrayal of Sharon, a reserved yet powerful mother-turned-diplomatic negotiator in the complexity that is If Beale Street Could Talk. However, every fibre of my being wishes to see one of the The Favourite duo recognised for their absolutely outstanding performances. Friends, rivals, jealous lovers, enemies – the layers both actresses bring to their roles while maintaining a comedic levity is commendable and breathtaking as you watch this dysfunctional triangular relationship decay into a simultaneously childish and serious dynamic.

Alex’s Prediction for Best Animated Feature 

What Will Win: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

No longer will we have to debate which is the best Spider-Man movie, since Spider-Verse excels in leaps and bounds. Laugh-out-loud funny, important in its messages, and simply gorgeous aesthetically, this one definitely deserves the win.

What Should Win: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

See above.

Hassan’s Prediction for Best Original Screenplay 

What Should Win: Roma – Alfonso Cuarón or First Reformed – Paul Schrader

What Will Win: Roma or First Reformed

Cuarón’s intelligent screenplay reveals just enough necessary information in an intimate and personal manner. Set in the socio-politically turbulent years of the early ’70s in the Colonia Roma district of Mexico City, it would be easy for Cuarón to didactically showcase the context of his film through basic news headlines and obvious dialogue. Instead, hints of revolution and police brutality are relegated to off-comments during a family dinner at the very beginning of the film, before being interrupted by mention of the family dog, Borras, and his roaming shenanigans. Indeed, ‘Borras’, the dog’s name, is one of the most frequently spoken words in the opening five or ten minutes, demonstrating emphasis on Roma’s domesticated setting. Cuarón’s screenplay declares that, first and foremost, this is a personal film set in a middle-class household, drawing attention to the emotions of the family, their maid Cleo, and the peripheral figures that shape their experiences. The script allows the lens to do the talking, instructing wide pans that reveal the lively character of the neighbourhood. Moments of brilliant intensity and disturbing imagery are dotted around the film, highlighting the brutal realities that Cleo contends with while she maintains her stoic, selfless approach for the sake of the children she cares for.

On the other hand, despite First Reformed being concerned with the worries of a religious pastor, Ethan Hawke suggested that as soon as he read Paul Schrader’s screenplay, he could tell it was by the writer of Taxi Driver, just a bit more ‘grown up’. Schrader himself agrees, saying the character of ‘the drifter, the loader, the lightsleeper, and the man in his room’ is one and the same, only this time he’s spiritual. The fight between religion, climate change, and how history will remember us for our sins takes centre stage, and while the performances are stellar, it is the confrontational nature of Schrader’s words that lends the troubled narrative path of Hawke’s pastor, Ernst Toller, a moving brutality.

Xinyi’s Prediction for Best Cinematography

What Will Win: Roma – Alfonso Cuarón

Roma’s combination of sweeping, grand shots of Mexico City with intimate closeups of the inner workings of Cleo’s life, all shot in black and white, has earned it numerous wins in the cinematography category so far – and rightfully so. Tackling black and white is a traditional yet tricky job, and Roma succeeds in moving away from gimmickry by utilising light and shadows fully to construct an almost angelic yet melancholic world. The opening and closing shots of the airplane reflected on the floor water; the overwhelming magnitude of the student protests; and, of course, the heartbreaking scene on the beach permanently imprint themselves in the mind. There is a reason why it has been recommended to see Netflix’s Roma in the theatres and not on the laptop – the vastness and the emotions encompassed by the camera are deserved to be marveled at on the big screen and pack their punches harder if viewed with maximum sensory focus. Cuarón juggles the role of Director of Photography himself and delivers – a feat that the Academy will recognise.

What Should Win: Roma / If Beale Street Could Talk – James Laxton

Roma absolutely deserves to win Best Cinematography. However, there is one film of 2018 with such vivid camerawork that rivals, a film that was unbelievably snubbed and not nominated: Barry Jenkins’ If Beale Street Could Talk. Shot by James Laxton, its cinematography is so full of character and personality that you could recognise that it is a Barry Jenkins film even when going in blind. Jenkins’ frequent collaborator and go-to DP Laxton continues from the visual aesthetics and intimate softness of Moonlight, but this time with a beautiful overabundance of colour; yellow never looked so good on camera. It’s atrocious that the Academy failed to recognise Beale Street’s cinematographic feat. If entered into the game, it would be much harder to choose between Roma and Beale Street. 

Lydia’s Prediction for Best Editing

What Will Win: Vice – Hank Corwin

Roger Ebert once said that to accurately predict an Oscar win, just replace the word ‘best’ with ‘most’ – and Vice is certainly filled to the brim with exciting, interesting editing, both moment-to-moment and structurally. Anyone who has seen Corwin’s work on Adam McKay’s previous film The Big Shortknows this. Out of the nominated films, it’s fairly easy to pick out Vice as the winner amongst a selection of films with mostly natural, competent editing. (The exception of course being Bohemian Rhapsody, whose atrociously jarring editing is truly a testament the Academy’s seeming lack of ability to distinguish between ‘best’ and ‘most’)

What Should Win: If Beale Street Could Talk – Joi McMillan, Nat Sanders

Okay, yes, this may be cheating slightly in that Beale Street is not nominated for Best Editing. The way in which certain shots, particularly those of faces, linger on screen for longer than audiences are accustomed to beautifully complements James Laxton’s stunning cinematography (who has, again, also been somewhat shockingly snubbed for his work on Beale Street) to create a visual experience which is immersive and not easily forgotten.

Alex’s Prediction for Best Original Score 

What Will Win: Black Panther – Ludwig Göransson

And honestly, I’d be happy with this win. Blending African music with American hip-hop, Göransson’s score underlines the looming presence of Killmonger’s character and the emotionality of the film’s themes, all while managing to keep a hold of that classic superhero orchestral sound. This is one of the most original and interesting scores we’ve had in years.

What Should Win: Isle of Dogs – Alexandre Desplat

Although controversial, Desplat’s score celebrates Japanese music and culture – I mean, that Taiko drumming is phenomenal (though actually written by Kaoru Watanabe). You only need to listen to ‘End Titles’ to know that the music of this film is playful, unusual, and fantastic, but I guess Desplat winning two years in a row would just be a little greedy.

Alex’s Prediction for Best Original Song

What Will Win: “Shallow” (From A Star is Born) – Lady Gaga

Does this need an explanation? No, I think not.

What Should Win: “Sunflower” (From Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse) – Post Malone, Swae Lee

This gem of a song was not even nominated, despite it being one of the chillest and most re-playable songs to be featured on the big screen. It is dreamy and sweet, not to mention as catchy as a spider’s web. (Too cheesy a metaphor?)

The 91st Academy Awards will be held on Sunday, 24th February. It will air live in the UK through Sky and NOW TV on Monday morning at 01:00am. 

Click here for more Awards Season coverage by the FilmSoc Blog.

Calvin and Ivan are back to discuss the outcome of last Sunday’s Academy Awards results plus some film news of the week. Tune in below, and be sure to check out our other episodes!

(Illustration: Jennifer Luxton for the Seattle Times)

A month ago, we covered award season buzz and nominations on the podcast. Last week, you cast your votes in a few of the Academy Awards categories!

Well, with the ceremony last Sunday evening, the official results are in. Here’s a side-by-side of the FilmSoc poll results compared to the real thing, plus commentary by Pihla Pekkarinen.

Best Picture

FilmSoc Pick: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Official Result: The Shape of Water

These two films were firm favourites to snag this year’s Best Picture title, competing neck in neck during the awards season. Three Billboards had been in the lead, grabbing the BAFTA, Golden Globe and Satellite Award, so it was our favourite to win – but The Shape of Water came through and nabbed the biggest title of the year. The two films are so different, however, that it really comes down to personal taste (or maybe some controversy?). They also did similarly at the box office.

Best Director

FilmSoc Pick: Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water)

Official Result: Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water)

The Shape of Water was the fully thought out, cohesive, beautifully executed work of a visionary. Every single element, from the score to the cast to the production design to the cinematography is meticulously crafted under del Toro’s watchful eye. And while would have been nice to have Greta Gerwig help to diversify the Best Director winner list from 99% to 98% male, or witness Jordan Peele become the first black director to win the award, del Toro’s victory is undoubtedly deserved. And, we should take a moment to appreciate the fact that, thanks to del Toro, the current decade has been the first in which white directors have been the MINORITY in this category (3 out of 8 wins).

Leading Actress

FilmSoc Pick: Frances McDormand (Three Billboards)

Official Result: Frances McDormand (Three Billboards)

I can confidently say, staying up until 5am watching the Oscars was worth it just to experience McDormand’s speech in real time. The moment when all female nominees in the hall stood (“Meryl, if you do it, everybody else will”) was inspiring and empowering, but also highlighted how much work there is still left to do. The gender proportion of male and female nominees was nowhere near equal. McDormand’s encouragement to adopt the “inclusion rider” clause in filmmaking contracts was a reminder of the hope that someday the Awards could reflect today’s diverse America.

Leading Actor

FilmSoc Pick: Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour)

Official Result: Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour)

Oldman is one of the most established faces of British cinema, and he won his Oscar in a film about British history playing a British wartime hero (or villain, however you see it). Even his speech, asking his mother to “put the kettle on”, was so quintessentially British one couldn’t help but laugh. It felt cathartic to see Oldman get his Oscar after years of hard work in the industry.

Supporting Actor

FilmSoc Pick: Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards)

Official Result: Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards)

Rockwell’s performance in Three Billboards was received with universal acclaim, so this win came as no surprise. It is also worth noting that this category was the only nomination for one of the more “experimental” big films of 2017, The Florida Project. Many saw this Oscars snub as a surprise, whereas others viewed it as another demonstration of the overwhelming hesitation by the Academy to reward more radical or controversial filmmaking. Other similar snubs this year include The Killing of a Sacred Deer and mother!.

Supporting Actress

FilmSoc Pick: Allison Janney (I, Tonya)

Official Result: Allison Janney (I, Tonya)

Janney’s turn as Tonya’s off-kilter mother (a role written specifically for her) earned her not only the Oscar, but also the Golden Globe, the SAG, the BAFTA, and the Critics’ Choice awards for Best Supporting Actress. This win has pretty much been in the bag since the release of the film. Her Oscar was dedicated to her brother, who lost his battle with addiction and mental illness.

Original Screenplay

FilmSoc Pick: Get Out (Jordan Peele)

Official Result: Get Out (Jordan Peele)

The Academy may have seen rewarding Get Out the coveted Best Picture and Best Director titles as too much of a risk, but Peele’s win is nevertheless historic. Peele is the first black man to win an Original Screenplay Oscar, and not just with any story, with a story that is about racism in today’s America. With such a major win on his first feature, it will be thrilling to see where his directing and writing careers take him next.

Adapted Screenplay

FilmSoc Pick: Call Me By Your Name (James Ivory)

Official Result: Call Me By Your Name (James Ivory)

This was the only win for one of the most successful independent films of the year. James Ivory became the oldest competitive Oscar winner at age 89. Recently, Guadagnino has been dropping hints about a sequel to this awards hit, set against the backdrop of the 1990s AIDS crisis.

Animated Feature

FilmSoc Pick: Coco (Lee Unkrich, Darla K. Anderson)

Official Result: Coco (Lee Unkrich, Darla K. Anderson)

The Boss Baby is now an Oscar-nominated film. Slim pickings for the Academy in 2018. Though disappointed that Loving Vincent flew under the radar this awards season, Coco was a clear favourite and once more, a predictable but deserving winner.

Cinematography

FilmSoc Pick: Blade Runner 2049 (Roger Deakins)

Official Result: Blade Runner 2049 (Roger Deakins)

With a track record of a staggering fourteen nominations, Deakins’ first win couldn’t be sweeter. It’s been a long time coming. Blade Runner 2049 is some of his best work, with a mix of breathtaking long shots and thrilling action sequences, and overall one of the most beautiful films of 2017. This year also saw the first female cinematography nominee, Rachel Morrison for Mudbound.

Production Design

FilmSoc Pick: The Shape of Water (Paul D. Austerberry, Jeffrey A. Melvin, Shane Vieau)

Official Result: The Shape of Water (Paul D. Austerberry, Jeffrey A. Melvin, Shane Vieau)

There was really no contest for this award. Every single set in The Shape of Water was thought out down to the most minute detail, and the designers’ and dressers’ work here is nothing less than extraordinary.

Original Score

FilmSoc Pick: Phantom Thread (Jonny Greenwood)

Official Result: The Shape of Water (Alexandre Desplat)

Desplat’s score for The Shape of Water is ethereal, haunting, hopeful – everything you would want from a score. The use of wind instruments over the ever-so-popular strings is wonderfully refreshing. However, I can’t help but yearn to know what Jonny Greenwood’s Oscar speech would have been. Maybe next year.

Original Song

FilmSoc Pick: ‘Mystery of Love’ from Call Me By Your Name (Sufjan Stevens)

Official Result: ‘Remember Me’ from Coco (Kristen Anderson-Lopez, Robert Lopez)

The category of Best Original Song is probably the least adventurous in the whole ceremony – and that is saying something. Oscars aren’t exactly known for stepping outside the box. “Remember Me” is  exactly the kind of song the award usually commemorates. There is nothing wrong with it, but it’s not particularly memorable, either. But who knows, maybe Kendrick will be in the running next year for his turn in Black Panther.

OTHER CATEGORIES

Documentary Feature

Icarus (Bryan Fogel, Dan Cogan)

This was the first Academy Award win for Netflix, who are quickly becoming a big name in film distribution. This is a major benchmark in the shift from traditional cinema-centered distribution into streaming. Mudbound, another Netflix feature, received four nominations this year but won none. With a target of 80 new films to be released in 2018, this is a major step forward for Netflix in becoming a recognisable force not only at the box office, but also on the red carpet.

Foreign Language Film

A Fantastic Woman (Chile: Sebastián Lelio)

A favourite to win, A Fantastic Woman is a daring film about the struggles of a transgender woman inspired by the film’s lead actress, Daniela Vega. This film was the first feature to win an Oscar with an openly transgender lead and main character, and Vega was also the first openly transgender person to present on the stage at the Academy Awards. Check out our writer Diego on the Curzon podcast with the director!

Makeup and Hairstyling

Darkest Hour (Kazuhiro Tsuji, David Malinowski, Lucy Sibbick)

Gary Oldman mentioned in an interview with Vanity Fair that he wore the makeup for Winston Churchill 61 times, spending over 200 hours total in a makeup chair being transformed into the spitting image of the World War II PM. Impressive, to say the least.

Costume Design

Phantom Thread (Mark Bridges)

A film about a dressmaker which doesn’t win the Oscar for Costume Design? Unlikely. Special shoutout goes to Jacqueline Durran, though, for two nominations in one season for Beauty and the Beast and Darkest Hour!

Film Editing

Dunkirk (Lee Smith)

Sound Editing

Dunkirk (Mark Weingarten, Gregg Landaker, Gary A. Rizzo)

Sound Mixing

Dunkirk (Alex Gibson, Richard King)

Dunkirk scooping up three out of the four major technical awards towards the beginning of the night likely proved disappointing to any Nolanphiles watching – rule of thumb being that usually winning technical awards means missing out on the Big Five. Baby Driver was unfortunately overlooked in these categories, disappointing to many of us at Film Soc.

Visual Effects

Blade Runner 2049 (John Nelson, Paul Lambert, Richard R. Hoover, Gerd Nefzer)

Documentary Short Subject

Heaven Is a Traffic Jam on the 405 (Frank Stiefel)

This short centers around Mindy Alper, a heavily mentally ill artist who channels their emotions into passionate art and sculpture. After a successful festival run, it was another favourite to win.

Live Action Short

The Silent Child (Rachel Shenton, Chris Overton)

In one of the most moving moments of the night, Rachel Shenton signed her speech for her 6-year-old star’s benefit, and thanked the Academy for bringing a story of disability to a “mainstream audience”. Among his thanks, Chris Overton mentioned the supporters of their IndieGogo campaign, an inspiring moment for low-budget filmmakers. (Speaking of, one of our very own affiliate projects, Jenny, is still looking for funding! Campaign is open for 5 more days at: indiegogo.com/projects/jenny-music-film)

Animated Short

Dear Basketball (Glen Keane, Kobe Bryant)

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Can we all please revel in the fact that not only are we now living in a world where Suicide Squad is an Oscar winner, we are also living in a time where Kobe Bryant is one too. Who’s next?

Overall, there were no big surprises; the Academy, as usual, played it safe. However, these Oscars were the most diverse we have ever had, with women, people of colour, and stories about LGBTQ+ and disabled people being brought to the forefront for the first time. Unlike at other awards ceremonies this season, there was no official #MeToo dress code, but the movement’s presence was nevertheless palpable. Not for the first time, the minorities in the film industry have raised their voices to say “enough” – but for the first time, they are being listened to.

Check out our pre-Oscars awards seasons discussion + Oscar nominations podcast episodes!

The Academy Awards are tonight! Cast your vote for this year’s candidates in a few of the categories:

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Illustration credit: Tomi Umi

Hebe Hamilton reviews Craig Gillespie’s Oscar-nominated biopic about the controversial figure skater.

Prior to the release of I, Tonya I had never heard of Tonya Harding, nor of the infamous 1994 attack on her teammate Nancy Kerrigan. Maybe this is unsurprising considering my general lack of exposure to ice skating, apart from occasional Christmas fairs over the years, which consisted of clinging to the wall until the ordeal was over. The opposite can be said for a Canadian friend of mine, for whom figure skating was a regular pastime as a child. When I asked if she knew about Tonya Harding, her response was immediate: “Oh yeah, everyone know’s about her – she’s crazy”.

Clearly Harding’s story was an unforgettable one for those acquainted with skating and Winter Sports history, and one heavily scrutinised by the media, who enjoyed portraying her as a pantomime villain. But why tell the story of a so-called disgraced competitor instead of – perhaps – Kerrigan’s, herself an Olympic medallist?

Director Craig Gillespie and screenwriter Steven Rogers answer this almost as soon as the film opens: it is a reclamation of Harding’s life, reputation, and legacy. But it is naive to assume there will be a sugary-sweet ending to Harding’s story. The film is effectively a tragedy, not least thanks to Harding’s background, and her failure – beyond her control – at appealing to the American ideal of the perfect family girl on the world stage.

Taking the style of a mockumentary, the narrative is interspersed with interviews from Harding (Margot Robbie); her former husband, Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan); his best friend, Shawn Eckhardt (Paul Walter Hauser); and her formidable mother LaVona (Allison Janney). We learn about Harding’s difficult childhood at the hands of an emotionally and physically abusive LaVona, determined to make her daughter “a champion” at the cost of resentment and hatred between the two. The cycle of abuse continues with her relationship and eventual marriage to Gillooly, who alternates between obsessive neediness and violent control of Harding. Finally, her initial success in the 1991 National Figure Skating Championships, and her unique achievement as the first female to nail the triple axel in a competition, is eventually overshadowed by the 1994 attack on rival Kerrigan, for which her husband and Eckhardt were responsible. Harding maintains her innocence but nonetheless is implicated in the attack, found guilty of perverting the course of justice and is banned from competitive figure skating for life. This devastating decision ends Harding’s short career prematurely and earns her lasting notoriety and the enmity of the American people.

There are fine performances from all involved in the cast, but Margot Robbie and Allison Janney stand out and well-deserve their Oscar nominations for their portrayal of the dysfunctional mother-and-daughter duo. Janney effortlessly presents a waspish antagonist in the form of LaVona, ranging from darkly sharp and witty one-liners to abominable acts of emotional torment and violence, including throwing a table knife at her on-screen daughter’s arm. The worst we see of Janney’s character comes when she seemingly attempts to console and comfort her daughter during the FBI investigations, only to be found hiding a recording device in her coat pocket. The look of betrayal on Robbie’s face is matches ours: the one time we expected to see redemption for their broken relationship, and it was lie all along. What were we, and Harding, to expect?

Margot Robbie triumphs in the title role. She manages to recreate the sarcastic feistiness akin to some of her well-loved earlier roles, such as Harley Quinn and Naomi LaPaglia, but this time we see a crucial level of fragility and vulnerability in her performance, reminding us of the bitter reality of Harding’s story and of a woman who was repeatedly shunned and ridiculed in both her personal and professional life. An unforgettable moment comes when Harding is seen alone in her dressing room, pre-1994 Olympic performance. She attempts to smile at herself in the mirror, but even that facade is failing: between every smile, Robbie convincingly lets slip a grimace of anxiety and despair, effectively revealing the protagonist at her breaking point.

The costumes and make-up are well researched and manage to make the cast look uncannily like their real-life counterparts, as revealed by the original interview clips shown in the ending credits. This is particularly true in the case of LaVona and Eckhardt, which is credit to casting directors Lindsay Graham and Mary Vernieu. An interesting point to make is that Rogers wrote the dialogue and characterisation of LaVona with Janney in mind, though this was their first film together. Both Harding and her mother are shown throughout the film to be hand-making her skating costumes, in various styles and colours, to emphasise the family’s inability to afford the proper and, importantly, suitable skating outfits.

Although unexpected, the mockumentary style of the narrative works extremely well, not only reminding the audience of the grave reality of the 1994 attack, but that Harding and her contemporaries remembered the events of her life and the attack very differently. Coupled with the actors’ attempts to break the fourth wall, we are given both an insight into their differing personal opinions and the varying biases in their accounts. This allows the audience to feel involved in the narrative, yet able to reach their own conclusions at the end of the film.

Considering the significance of the 1994 attack on Tonya Harding’s life and career, it is unfortunate that the film barely focuses on Harding’s relationship with Kerrigan (played by former dancer Caitlin Carver). In one short flashback scene we see the two smoking and laughing together in their hotel room before an unspecified competition, as Harding relates that the media portrayed Kerrigan as “a princess” compared to her (just because they could). Apart from that, we only see Kerrigan sparingly during the rest of the film, with no dialogue apart from her cries of pain during the assault scene.

Gillespie and his team have created a thought-provoking piece of cinematography, which manages to touch upon the real story of a disgraced protagonist with a suitable level of black comedy to counteract the rest of the film’s tragic elements. More importantly, the film represents Harding’s long-awaited chance to get her story across to the rest of the world, which is emphasised both by Harding’s appearance at the film’s premiere, and the fact Robbie met and interviewed Harding herself during pre-production. The film ends with information about Harding’s current life and the emphatic final line that she is a “good mother” to her only son: yet another example of her reclamation of her identity in the public eye.

I, Tonya is out now in UK cinemas. Trailer below:

Liam Donovan tackles Guillermo del Toro’s latest fantastical feature.

There are men who can be monstrous, and monsters who can demonstrate great humanity, a principle on which Guillermo Del Toro has built his career as a filmmaker. In Hellboy, the titular hero must overcome his infernal origins to save somebody he loves, while the director’s last offering, Crimson Peak, leads us to believe our protagonist is threatened by a ghostly presence, only to reveal true evil contained within a human form.

This theme has never been more prominent though than here, The Shape of Water proving itself to be an enchanting love letter to the ‘Other’, as expressed through yet another of those strange fantasies which Del Toro has displayed such a fascination with. Assimilating influences that range from fifties musicals to Cold War era spy-thrillers, this genre-mash has already been a massive success, garnering a staggering thirteen Oscar-nominations, and being held up alongside Pan’s Labyrinth as one of Del Toro’s masterpieces. The hype seems almost too great.

Set sometime in 1962, a period of increasingly heightened tensions that either stand apart from, or reflect, more contemporary issues, The Shape of Water is largely focused around the top-secret government facility where our main character, Elisa (Sally Hawkins), goes about her monotonous profession as a janitor, each night reduced to specific and unfulfilling routine. Much like her neighbour Giles (Richard Jenkins), an artist too frightened to express the true nature of his feelings and sexuality, Elisa finds her existence lonely and disconnected, despite her close friendship with fellow janitor Zelda (Octavia Spencer). Also, and this is important, she can’t speak. Elisa is completely mute, which offers her both an adorable vulnerability and an air of alluring mystery.

Her life is drastically changed when she comes into contact with a strange, amphibian creature (Doug Jones) that is brought into the laboratory, described as a possible god to the people of South America where it was discovered. With humanoid features, and an ability to communicate, this creature and Elisa form an intimate bond, until the life of the beast is threatened by the fierce and cruel Colonel Strickland (Michael Shannon), forcing Elisa to make a desperate decision.

Presented as an ‘adult fairytale’, the distinctly romantic tone of the film permeated by outbursts of graphic violence and even some nudity, The Shape of Water is built around a strange and scintillating relationship that shouldn’t work but unquestionably does. It makes the most sense when you view it as a kind of metaphor, whether that be for Del Toro and his own passion for the weird and wonderful, or maybe the idea that affection can exist beyond the realms of what is conventional, where people are seen for the content of their soul rather than external appearances. Perhaps this is a love story between two people who, shut off from the rest of the world, find their own way to communicate with one another.

If that all sounds too idealistic, and potentially sentimental, then it’s probably because it is. Nevertheless, Del Toro’s movie is so sincere and exquisitely crafted, the director designing his own magical landscape within our world, you can’t help but fall in love with it too, even if the thought of Sally Hawkins entering relations with a fish-man seems, at first, too off-putting to be genuinely sympathetic and touching.

It seemed unlikely that, in this year’s awards race for Production Design glory (okay, well at least I care), Dennis Gassner’s impeccable work in creating the expansive world of Blade Runner 2049 could be beaten. However, by bringing together Del Toro’s gorgeously assembled vision of sixties-era America, which feels striking and large in scope, but also incredibly intimate, Paul D. Austerberry must be a front-runner as well. Working under immense budgetary constraints, with The Shape of Water supposedly made for less than twenty million dollars, Austerberry drops us into an artful and immersively detailed environment that feels so physical and tangible that you almost want to reach through the screen and touch it.

The transporting sensation of the setting is only bolstered by the evocative cinematography of Dan Laustsen, who seems to find every shade of green to shoot this feature through, and the retrograde score of Alexandre Desplat, which chimes seamlessly with the timely soundtrack. That being said, a beautifully drawn metaphor, translated to screen, does not resonate nearly as well as The Shape of Water does, for which we have Guillermo Del Toro to thank.

In order to make us really care about the romantic core of the film, which in these circumstances is quite a feat, Del Toro has to conjure all the heart and soul he can muster, creating enchanting and even erotic sequences that spark an unsettlingly tantalising chemistry between Elisa and her fishy suitor. If one had to consider what the ‘shape’ of water really is here, then perhaps we could relate its undulating movements and gracefulness to that of a sexual body, Del Toro offering us the imagery of the egg as yet another suggestive symbol; through these images, the director subconsciously establishes an erotic language between the unlikely lovers.

The visual separation of the two as they initially meet, barriers placed between them that ultimately begin to crumble, creates a sense of longing, a irreconcilable desire that echoes the dissatisfaction of other characters in the film, including Jenkins’ Giles who, secretly attracted to the waiter of a local ‘pie parlour’ (disclaimer: not an accurate description), is also frightened to indulge his secret yearning. In terms of the sea-creature Elisa is enamoured by, one might see Dr. Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg) as a potential love rival, this scientist in the government laboratory also desperate to protect what he considers a beautiful specimen. The characters in The Shape of Water are, even in the case of Shannon’s villain Strickland, seeking connection.

Although the script, co-penned by Del Toro and Game of Thrones producer Vanessa Taylor, is structured so to gradually absorb us in the burgeoning romance of this fantastical tale, credit must be given to the performers who bring this material to complex life. Sally Hawkins doesn’t speak, but she exudes emotion and her own form of language through simple looks, gestures, or her slightly awkward but innocent movement. Born an orphan by the river, she still appears to be stuck in the dizzying bubble of her youth, where the secret behind her silence is concealed.

Doug Jones, who has long been Del Toro’s go-to guy for his humanely monstrous creations, gives equally innocent and elegant motion to Elisa’s amphibian counterpart, and together they make an extremely watchable pair. As the Oscar nominations for both Jenkins and Spencer would suggest, the supporting cast also play valuable roles, often grounding the more unbelievable content of this magic-realist story, and each experiencing their own trials and tribulations which, like Elisa, they must learn to overcome by the end of the film.

Possibly The Shape of Water’s only weak-spot is Shannon as Colonel Richard Strickland, though he is often gloriously vicious and – as his rotting fingers would suggest – an important counterpoint to the Doug Jones’s creature. Over the course of the film Strickland literally decays into a grotesque monster of a man. However, despite Shannon’s entertaining performance, this antagonist is probably a little too chin-stroking and blatantly sinister, Del Toro’s attempts to reveal his private life and semblance of humanity not translating as well as his work with the other characters, all of whom become hurdles for Strickland to violently neutralise.

That being said, there is something charming about an old-school villain who doesn’t quite fit into a grey area, and is instead just an outright bastard. Literally wielding an electric cattle-prod, like some sixties, suited version of Anton Chigurh, the paraphernalia of his malevolence may be slightly overblown, but few are better in this kind of scenery-chewing role than Michael Shannon.

In The Shape of Water, Guillermo Del Toro indulges the kind of perverted, yet weirdly poignant, romantic-fantasy one might expect from a B-Movie, but chooses to present it as a prestige piece of Old Hollywood, set around lavish movie theatres with an overflowing abundance of style. Inhabiting the limitless streams of the director’s imagination are carefully-sketched characters who are both playful and emotionally resonant, pulling us into the midst of wickedly weird events that are charming, thrilling and extremely powerful.

If Pan’s Labyrinth guided us through the unbounded expanse of a child’s dream, then The Shape of Water is potentially a more grown-up affair, a film where those dreams of an intense communion with the supernatural continue to perforate reality. Drenched in liquid, and flowing like the uncertain river where our protagonist is first discovered as a baby, Del Toro’s movie flows through its audience as well.

The Shape of Water is out now in UK cinemas. Check out the trailer below: 

Madeleine Haslam reviews PTA’s Academy Awards front-runner.

Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest picture Phantom Thread is a rich and intricate yet bizarre tale that is aptly described by many as a successor to Hitchcock’s Rebecca. It is nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor.

Phantom Thread is a gothic fairytale that follows the life of pedantic designer Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) after he meets Alma (Vicky Krieps), who works as a waitress in the country. She comes to live with him, acting as his model and muse. Throughout the film we are shown the intricate creation of Woodcock’s designs and the people who wear them, from Belgian princesses to American debutantes. However, this seemingly traditional film takes a jarring turn when Alma decides to punish Reynolds for his erratic behaviour.

The relationship between Reynolds and Alma becomes increasingly strained as she refuses to conform to his strict routine and misogyny, diving into complex gender dynamics. Tensions rise as Alma’s unwelcome surprise dinner brings out Reynold’s vicious yet darkly witty dialogue, as he says “I’m admiring my own gallantry for eating it the way you prepared it”, and snaps at her over breakfast simply for buttering her toast too loudly.The relationship between Alma and Reynolds is continually evolving. One moment they are an artist and his muse, in another they are a loving couple, and soon become fierce rivals who engage in piercing conflict with potentially murderous consequences.  It becomes difficult to gauge where the film is taking you: the audience is continually tricked and misled through unexpected turns and surprising developments, making the film all the more exciting.

It is an impressive final performance from Day-Lewis. Inspired by the eccentricities of designers such as Alexander McQueen and Balenciaga, Day-Lewis effectively captures Reynolds’ dedication but also the problematic devotion to his craft. He displays to perfection the meticulous mannerisms of “a most demanding man”, refreshingly offset by Krieps’ outspoken and disruptive presence. This too is complimented by Cyril Woodcock (Lesley Manville), Reynolds’s sister and manager. She is truly the driving force behind the film; managing her brother’s violent mood swings and pushing on through trouble he causes – as Reynolds is taken ill and accidentally ruins a dress for an imminent royal wedding, she is the one who prepares to work throughout the night to fix it.

Every aspect of this film is suitably elegant and intricate. Mark Bridge’s costume design is exceptional and, of course, of huge significance to the story. Inspired by the designs of 1950s artists as Dior, Bridges made over fifty gowns for the film. He did so in collaboration with Day-Lewis in order to create the character of Woodcock, saying, ‘If at all possible, I loved his input’. Bridges describes his process as being like that of a contemporary couture designer, by sourcing the best fabrics from around the world in Rome, London, and New York, and even including 17th century Flemish Lace.

Of equal importance is the stunning camera work by Anderson, in his debut role as Director of Photography. Shot entirely on film, Phantom Thread gives the impression of being an actual 1950s production, with technicolour-esque, yet, as Anderson notes, ‘slightly washed out, slightly antique’ tones, to create a feeling of watching an aged, but genuine mid-century film. Of the cinematography, gaffer Michael Bauman and camera operator Colin Anderson wanted to make sure that it did not “look like The Crown”, as a period drama whose cinematography is polished and clean, instead opting for a grittier, aged feel. This only adds to the sense of an underlying turbulence; subtly suggesting that everything is not as perfect as it might seem. Like the secret messages sewn into the lining of Reynolds’ gowns, there is always the suggestion that there is something more to every shot than the mere façade of luscious gowns and glamorous clients.

The soundtrack is equally elegantly produced. Composed by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood, the score consists of lusciously arranged orchestral pieces, as well as delicately muted piano performances. The production design is similarly flawless, as scenes are embellished with the suitably intricate patterns of William Morris. The locations, split between London’s Fitzrovia and the Yorkshire countryside surrounding Whitby, are atmospheric and reminiscent, again, of such gothic tales as Rebecca or Dracula.

Though, admittedly, there are parts of this film that may seem familiar to cinema-goers who may recently have seen Lady Macbeth, My Cousin Rachel, or The Beguiled, the skill and craftsmanship that has gone into every aspect of Phantom Thread makes it, in my opinion, a strong contender for Best Picture. It is not surprising that it has been so frequently described by critics as Paul Thomas Anderson’s ‘masterpiece’.

Phantom Thread is out now in UK cinemas. Watch the trailer:

(Illustration: Bendik Kaltenborn for The New Yorker)

On the latest episode of our podcast, Milo and Lorcan discuss the past week’s film news highlights and talk us through their takes on Paul Thomas Anderson’s Best Picture runner, Phantom Thread.

Warning: Spoilers throughout!

Last time on the podcast: Oscar Nominations & 3 Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

In our latest episode, Maria and Ivan react to Oscar nominations (how do they compare to Ivan and Calvin’s predictions from last time??) and discuss a Best Picture frontrunner: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.

Illustration: Petra Eriksson for The New Yorker.

Last time on the podcast: Awards Season Special

Check out our ‘Trip to the Oscars’ event to see Three Billboards this Thursday (1/02), at 20:30.

Editor Chloe Woods reviews Spielberg’s latest, star-studded film.

Usually, the actors are the ones we accuse of phoning it in. After an impressive thirty-nine features, among them lauded some of the greatest films in history, it’s a disappointment to see from Steven Spielberg something so – dare I say it – boring. It’s not that The Post is bad in any objective sense, only that it gets so caught up in its own high-mindedness it forgets to notice whether the audience has fallen asleep.

The first hour in particular drags through the slow details of inter-paper politics and occasional hints of the turmoil to come. The Post picks up a little once the Pentagon Papers enter the picture: but even then it’s a drawn-out and anticlimactic sequence of events. There’s also no great need to pay attention – the film will hammer in both plot points and thematic ones to exhaustion. You won’t leave totally enlightened about the Vietnam War or the impact of the study’s release on the Nixon administration, but you will absolutely be prepared to give an off-the-cuff presentation on the responsibilities of the free press. As long as you don’t mind being without sources, that is: because while The Post does pay lip service to the public consequences of releasing the papers (which reveal that, by 1971, successive administrations had known the Vietnam war was a lost cause for six years), it does a damn poor job of showing any actual concern. The main issue is the fate of the paper, as a financial concern and a personal one. That could have made a perfectly compelling film in its own right; but the import of this local, family-run paper’s destiny for the free press and the democratic process – which, again, we are told about, rather than shown – is less than obvious. Yes, the Washington Post published: but it could have been any now-forgotten rag.

This is the problem. My mother was born in 1971; a straw poll of millennial friends about the Pentagon Papers brings unanimous references to “that film I saw a trailer for recently” and nothing else. The Post, as a film, is missing half its pieces because it presumes understanding of why the Washington Post was later considered a critical bastion in the tradition of muck-raking journalism and a ballsy free press. There’s an obvious comparison to be drawn – this is not the first time the Washington Post has been fictionalised for the big screen – but All the President’s Men, though released (in 1976) only four years after the events of Watergate, does a much better job of sketching out the implications for the uninitiated. Maybe that’s because back then, when events were still fresh in everyone’s mind, it was clear which parts of the message needed to be stated simply. The Post by contrast comes across as an adult talking to a small child – and skipping over the bits required to actually convince. Which would explain the six Golden Globe nominations, I suppose. It will no doubt have very different connotations for an audience which recalls the events in question, and they’ll probably be the main ones watching it. But the people with most to learn from a film like this, which – however crudely – waxes lyrical on the importance of a free press to hold the government accountable, are the people with little interest in a staid Oscar-bait feature starring Tom Hanks as Tom Hanks (I mean, Ben Bradley) and Meryl Streep as Meryl Streep (whoops – Katharine “Kay” Graham).

Timely – it’s timely, after a fashion. The script was purchased in 2016; Spielberg opted to direct the film last February, a month after Donald Trump’s inauguration. I’m going to assume you’ve heard the words “fake news” before: if at any point in the last year you’ve blissfully tuned out the details of the current American administration, all you need to know is it involves a constant assault on the free press, the denial of press passes and other access, and a daily stream of nonsense. Do the newspapers speak truth to power now? When they try, it rarely seems anyone is listening. The Post yearns for the days of the Nixon administration, when revelations of shadiness and lies in the White House could provoke a sea-change in attitudes rather than an exhausted shrug, and journalists cared first and foremost about informing the public. The old-fashioned technologies of typewriters and dial-phones are lovingly caressed by the camera: the point here is not to learn from the past, but simply to romanticise it. Let us go back – to what? To Nixon? To the successive governments who lied about Vietnam? To the courses set in motion that brought us to where we are now? It was not a simpler time of more straightforward questions; that’s only how it seems in hindsight. Ben Bradley and Katharine Graham themselves had dubious links to the heart of government, were pressured not to publish, and battled to find resources for serious journalism. There have always been buffoons and charlatans. People were not nobler then – or they are not less so now – the news is only the first draft of history, and that’s the most telling line in the film: because it doesn’t only mean history still full of notes and clutter. History is penned by the victors, and the publication of the Pentagon Papers marked an important date in the temporary victory by a certain conception of journalism for cultural territory. Newspapers and television anchors, unlike politicians, became people we could place faith in. That was part of the problem. Do the events of The Post have relevance to our present situation? Yes, indeed. Is the solution an attempt to recapitulate the past? No – only in the most basic impulse – that you must tell the truth.

Does the film? I’ve no idea, honestly. Part of its dullness may stem from a loyalty to historic fact, which is rarely cinematic, but if so that would be wasted effort: historic films tend to be swallowed wholesale or disbelieved regardless of their individual merits. Among the current crop, the best to be said for The Post is that at least it’s not another World War II biopsy: but it was supposed to be a film, not a repetitive two-hour lecture on how awesome the free press used to be. We’ve all seen Trump’s tweets. We know.

The Post is out now in UK cinemas. Check out the trailer:

Editor Chloe Woods reviews Aaron Sorkin’s Oscar-hopeful directorial debut.

Molly Bloom (Jessica Chastain) is driven, ambitious, and smarter than every man in the room. Bringing Bloom’s own 2014 memoir to the big screen in a feature both written and – for the first time – directed by The West Wing creator Aaron Sorkin, Molly’s Game is a fast-paced, fast-talking film spanning Molly’s rise and fall as host of two of this century’s most infamous poker tables. Smart as she might be, the cards are ultimately stacked against her, and what began as a game will end up somewhere far more serious.

It’s about poker, but also it’s not about poker, so don’t expect to learn much about the game itself. In-depth explanations of particular hands, provided once or twice, will fly past unless you already understand them. What matters here is the culture of poker-playing among two distinct sets of the American elite, and the associated legal implications: poker itself may be above-board (and Molly makes a determined effort to keep her games clean, or at least ensure plausible deniability) but the other entertainments of the very rich are often not. The film leans into the odd seediness of gambling; even when hosted in classy rooms and breaking not a single by-law, there’s a petty crassness in the competition over money, the politics of invites, and the hapless glee with which a good number of players throw themselves onto the whims of the table’s masters. Molly draws a distinction between poker players and gamblers – almost all those at her games are the latter, including (though she does have enough other concerns to make “good decisions” for a while) Molly herself.

Opening – appropriately enough – with a narrative bluff, the film launches at breakneck speed and (though it drops a notch after the first few minutes) carries that energy for the remainder of its run-time. In the present day, Molly meets with lawyer Charlie (Idris Elba) shortly before her trial and, lacking the funds to pay for counsel, throws herself on his mercy. These conversations (confusingly set after the release of the book the film is based on, and referring to it) intercut and provide a framing device for the retelling of earlier events. By Chastain’s breathless narration we learn that Molly Bloom, after an accident put her out of the professional skiing she’d expected to be her life, worked as an office clerk and cocktail waitress before (and leading to) the eight years of running a high-stakes poker game in LA. When she was ousted from that, she pulled off an incredible ploy to launch a bigger game in New York: it was this game, hosted in a thousands-a-night hotel room, that brought Molly spiralling into drug addiction and entanglements with the Russian mob. Then she wrote a book about it. It’s a point of note that she refused to name anyone in the book not already revealed: considering her involvement in illegal high-stakes poker games and a somewhat self-absorbed tack towards life, Molly comes across as a basically decent human being.

A good part of the credit for that goes to Chastain, of course: this isn’t a performance to go down in history as one of her best, but it’s solid. The chatterbox Molly of the present day contrasts vividly against her younger self, alternately demure, terse, and thoughtful: she is careful with her words, and also clearly has no time for idiots. She spends much of her time talking down to men who think they’re talking down to her: Charlie, though not quite an idiot, gets open condescension instead, which he takes on the chin. This unfortunately gets rendered down into a whole psychotherapy thing surrounding Molly’s dislike and distrust of other humans – specifically men – culminating in a left-field appearance by her psychiatrist father (Kevin Costner). The paternalistic lecture he offers to his grown daughter about her own psyche might have been less galling if we’d seen more of Molly’s interactions with other women: her mother is often mentioned but rarely on-screen, and her female co-conspirators in New York are sidelined for the sake of presenting Molly as isolated in an aggressively male world.

About half the film is, functionally, “Idris Elba and Jessica Chastain stand and talk in a room”, which succeeds most of the time on the strength of script and cast (not that we’d mark these two down as having any particular chemistry together) despite some unfortunate directing choices. Never mind contrasting the two Mollys: the starkest contrast of this film is the one between the script produced by experienced, self-aware writer Aaron Sorkin and the film-making led by amateur director Aaron Sorkin. Fortunately he tends to stick to the tried-and-tested, but it’s easy to tell when he’s aiming for something more interesting, because those are the bits that don’t work.

They are relatively few. Peppered by moments of humour which allow the leads to show off their comic timing, and laced with light commentary on the nature of wealth and corruption in America (so taken for granted, and exploited by the film’s lead, it becomes easy to overlook its broader implications), Molly’s Game is far from groundbreaking: but it does, for the most part, work. And though this review is three weeks late and the film has been in cinemas since the start of the month, there are worse things to go and see.

Molly’s Game is out now in UK cinemas. Watch the trailer below.

This week, Calvin and Ivan run through the hot films at the centre of awards season buzz this year, weighing in on the frontrunners, snubs, and their favourite underdogs.

Last time on the podcast: #TimesUp: Hollywood, Hypocrisy, and the Future

Speaking of awards, check out our Trip to the Oscars cinema outings. This week, we’re heading to see Darkest Hour (FACEBOOK EVENT) – join us?