Superman (2025)

Posted on July 31, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Bottom line: Just go see it. It’s really good, albeit with a few big flaws, but it’s a great reset to the DCEU and the Superman franchise. For those choosing not to see it because of so-called “woke elements”—if you choose to politicize beyond the occasional politicization that co-writer and director James Gunn introduces—you’ll miss the larger picture. There might be occasional commentary here and there, but the main story is bigger and better than that.

The film has two “shadows” over it. One it the complicated and contradictory mess of current events, which are addressed here and there. Any film can be read politically by those who live and think primarily in a political mindset, and Superman provides enough opportunities for those poised to read it in that context. Yes, he’s an alien, and therefore an immigrant, and there are plenty of comments made on that subject that ring today’s bells. Gunn also makes the occasional social comment, the very best (and by far the single best moment in the film) being the quick shot of monkeys working their social media outlets with “negative reviews.” It’s funny on its own, and nearly everyone can relate to that, but those that know Gunn’s unfortunate history with social media can enjoy it on another level.

The other “shadow” is the history of Superman in comic and cinematic forms. I tend to work hard to view films as stand-alones, and not just as sequels, or prequels, or films working to upend their primary source. In that mindset, I will say that IMHO, this is the best Superman since the 1978 Christopher Reeve version. As all superhero/Superman films belong to their times, it can be fun and instructive to see how they reflect or comment on the times in which they were created. I can’t help but being familiar with the Superman myth, having watched the George Reeves version as a kid, and enjoying the 1978 version, and lamenting those films that followed.

Here’s what I liked about this new version. The three/four main actors (counting Skylar Gisondo in the subordinate and confusing role as Jimmy Olsen) are excellent. Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor is the very embodiment of obsessive hatred and jealousy, and he gives his substantial all to the part. I’ve been impressed with Rachel Brosnahan since her work in “House of Cards” and especially “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” and she makes this Lois Lane not just her own (hard to do), but she makes it one for the ages. She’s funny, whip-smart, and never lets on the she is in a DCEU movie. She’s the snap, crackle, and pop of the film.

Which of course leads us to the lead, David Corenswet (“Hollywood,” “The Politician,” Twisters). He fits this version perfectly for this new take. He’s sincere, funny, smart, and of course, has the requisite look and build. He is in stark contrast to Henry Cavill’s darker, more serious Superman, so that works in his favor as a creative divergence. He doesn’t hit any wrong notes even while stuck in some wrongly written or directed situations. He acquits himself well with whatever the film throws at him, even though the film’s tone is all over the place. What holds everything together is strength of those three central performances.

This conception of Superman is of course one for today as well as fitting into the “for all ages” myth. Of course, as a Gunn production (think the Guardian of the Galaxy films), it has more humor and lightness than most, and Corenswet admirably weaves his way through all the twists and turns of plot and tone. The basic scheme of course is the same: Superman good, Superman strong, Lois punky, Luthor horrible, Jimmy sweet, Kryptonite always a danger. Nothing new here, but how they various elements are handled fall somewhere between imaginative and entertaining and questionable.

We are thrown in media res instead of dealing with setting up who Superman is, where he is from originally, where he grew up, where his alter ego works, and who is archenemy is. Smart choice. But there are simply too many times our hero is shown in a weak position, including our first view of him in the ice. Not the Man of Steel we are used to, but it does present him as vulnerable. That repeats itself more than once, including an excruciatingly long sequence of him under the Kryptonite influence (a scene which includes an unexpected and gruesome murder that small children shouldn’t see.) As is typical here, the victim happens to be a nice Muslim friend of Superman’s, which can be politically interpreted in any way you want (or just accepted as a way of seeing how awful Luthor can be). 

There are pocket universes which are never clearly explained, and there is an absolutely unbelievable subplot (which graduates to a legit plot point) with Luthor’s shallow girlfriend inexplicably in deep, deep love with Jimmy Olsen. It’s worked nicely into the plot toward the end, but it never passes the believability test.

Everyone tends to love Clark’s rural parents, but here they are presented, unfortunately, as loving but absolute rubes who don’t quite know how to use a cell phone. It’s embarrassing, and can be interpreted as a negative comment on folks in a rural landscape. And in another twist, it’s the dad who is the emotional one. OK…whatever.

Lastly, on the negative side, there are a few other issues. The obligatory massive fight scenes full of CGI wonder are one too many and tend to exist by themselves. I would love to see a shorter fight scene sometime with a tighter focus, a greater connection to the characters, and a more obvious emotional core, but that’s not part of the structure of these films. Gunn goes one too many in the individual rescue sequences, which include a young girl (aww), a woman who needs to be told how to breathe (OK), and a squirrel (huh??) With all the chaos around him, the Caped Crusader is spending his few precious rescue moments on a rodent? Some interesting ideas can go on a bit too long. Same thing with “the dog” … an interesting and fun idea that get s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d as well.

So why am I positive on Superman? I love the idea of a more nuanced and sensitive central personality, even if his times in peril keep robbing us of his action scenes genuinely playing the hero. The various aspects of this character add color and variety. Corenswet as Clark is a joy to watch, and he meets his equal (Lois) with humor. The now-famous interview toward the beginning between Lois and Superman is gold, with genuine issues being addressed while fleshing out characters and personalities at the same time. Great idea, well executed. The dynamic between Lois and Clark is the best part of the film, and the only downside to that is that there aren’t more scenes just between those two. Great chemistry is hard to find, and we want more as the film goes on. But the glue that still manages to hold all things together are the three central characters that never lose their focus, and some of the most endearing and talented acting in a superhero movie. These are not recessive characters by any stretch, and that keeps the film buzzing and alive. Luthor/Hoult (spoiler alert) is sent to prison at the end of the film, but just as long as the next film (he writes with hope) keeps Corenswet and Brosnahan together, I have hope for this new chapter.

The film also cleverly addresses the “collateral damage” issue that other superhero films have struggles with (and generally can’t seem to work out.) This film allows many a creature to be brutally sacrificed, but they aren’t human. And many a building gets destroyed, but there is precious little human life lost. We get the big fight and the destruction without the guilt of the loss of (human) life. It’s a quiet victory in the film, but Gunn pulls it off.

Gunn tries to do too much, and not all of it works. But he keeps things moving, with humor that mostly lands where it should. This is a completely new reboot to the series, and its one that has the elements that can sustain a respectable and enjoyable series.

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The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933)

Posted on June 25, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Don’t let the date of the film put you off. This is a delightful dramedy about England’s most notorious king and his six wives. While creaky and primitive by today’s standards, the film itself is a riot and very enjoyable. It moves along briskly, has a sharp and intelligent sense of humor, and is delightfully pre-Code in its sensibilities.

But the main reason to see it is to enjoy one of the great performances in British film—and of all time, IMHO—one which won Charles Laughton the first Best Actor Oscar given to a non-American. It’s riotous and overflows with humor and life. His take on the king can’t be considered historically accurate, but what a characterization! Laughton’s Henry is funny, angry, selfish, childish, ribald, and occasionally tender. The performance is well-rounded, and Laughton doesn’t miss a beat; there isn’t a false or lazy note here. It’s such a rich, full, and life-filled showpiece of acting that it might be considered over the top, but Henry was a huge man in all respects. Laughton was known for chewing the furniture at times, but if he can be found guilty of it here, it nevertheless works and is of a piece with his depiction from beginning to end. The film looks great for being made on a small budget, with excellent camerawork, tight editing, and a direct address at the end that is surprising even now.

All six wives are dealt with, and the mention of his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, sets the tone of the film: “Henry VIII had six wives. Catherine of Aragon was the first; but her story is of no particular interest – she was a respectable woman-so Henry divorced her. He then married Anne Boleyn. This marriage also was a failure-but not for the same reason.” Yes, this deftly evades Henry’s first long marriage, his reprehensible behavior toward her, his earth-shaking break from the Roman Catholic church, his infidelities, and his terrible treatment of his second wife, Anne Boleyn. But it quickly sets the tone and lets the viewer know that this is a tongue-in-cheek ride through the personal and generally apolitical side of Henry’s “love” life.

The parade of wives features some fascinating actress and unusual performances. Stunning Merle Oberon has a quiet role as Anne Boleyn in one of her first films, and her first as a significant character. Apparently, her beauty struck audiences when she first appeared (as someone basically unknown at this time), but her few minutes in the film preparing for her beheading are precise and surprisingly moving.

Wendy Barrie, who had a career spanning into the 1960’s, played his next wife, Jane Seymour, who gave Henry a son but who died in childbirth (and the son died at 15). Of course the most fun is had in the film with Anne of Cleves, who is reputed to have been so unlke her lovely introductory painting Henry sent her away without consummating the marriage.

This German princess is played the hilt by Laughton’s won wife, the wonderful Elsa Lanchester (Best Supporting Actress nomination for Come to the Stable and Witness for the Prosecution, though most will remember her as the Bride of Frankenstein in the film of the same name). If any performance can be considered over the top, it’s Lanchester’s though many still revel in its humor. For me, the jury is still out. Lanchester and Laughton have great comic chemistry, however, and their scenes together are the highlight of the film. Aside from the performances of the married-in-real-life couple, these scenes break up the threatened monotony of the parade of wives and provide a relaxing and joy-filled break from the disappointments and beheadings.

Binnie Barnes (The Trouble with Angels, The Last of the Mohicans, Broadway Melody of 1938) played Katherine Howard, who was actually a very young woman but is portrayed as a more mature and intelligent woman who understood the risks of an adulterous affair. Then there’s a highly inaccurate portrayal of Henry’s last wife, Katherine Parr, who is presented in the film as a nag but was known as an articulate and gentle companion to Henry in his last years (and yes, Henry had three wives named Katherine.) Parr is played in her film debut by Everley Gregg (Pygmalion, Brief Encounter, Great Expectations, known for playing anything but gentle souls.

The largest male part other than Laughton’s is played by a wonderful British actor who would wrongly win the 1939 Best Actor Oscar. The actor is Robert Donat, and the 1939 film was Goodbye, Mr. Chips (but that is for another article at another time). He plays Thomas Culpepper, who was in love with Katherin Howard, but when that relationship began is contested. In any event, they apparently were head over heels in love with one another, ending in losing those same heads to the executioner’s axe.

The film can be read politically as a reflection of its time, between the World Wars, but aware of the tensions between present-day Germany and Britain. Those familiar with British history at that moment will find occasional grace note references to then-modern sensibilities.

This was Hungarian director Alexander Korda’s breakout success after years of film work in Austria-Hungary, Vienna, Berlin, Hollywood, and France. His story is complicated, covering many countries and studios, and featuring three wives, including actresses Maria Corda and Merle Oberon (this film’s Anne Boleyn). He also opened the doors for film directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, David Lean, and Carol Reed, and actor Laurence Olivier.

I’ve often equated seeing older films with traveling, in this case, back in time. Older classics are always worth the viewing, but Laughton is the single greatest reason for seeing the film. He pulls everything together, and delivers as fresh and enjoyable performance as anything available for viewing today. Do yourself a favor, find this film, and sit back and enjoy.

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The Other Oscars: The Juvenile Academy Award

Posted on June 21, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Did you know that July Garland, in spite of her tragic loss of the Oscar in 1955, did win an Academy Award? Other winners in this special Juvenile category include Mickey Rooney (nominated later for four other films as an adult), singer Deanna Durbin, Margaret O’Brien, and my first celebrity crush, Hayley Mills.

These were the Juvenile Academy Awards. They were given starting in the 1930s and ending in 1961 as a way of recognizing outstanding juvenile performances without forcing child actors to compete against adults in the competitive acting categories. Apparently 9-year-old Jackie Cooper’s loss in 1931 to Lionel Barrymore prompted the Academy to establish this special award for children under 18. Of course, there have been several young Oscar winners in the main acting categories since then—Patty Duke in The Miracle Worker, Tatum O’Neill in Paper Moon, Anna Paquin in The Pianist—but for a while, there seems to have been a mental divide among Academy members between younger and older actors.

Here’s a brief overview of the winners:

1934—Shirley Temple. Temple was a phenomenon in the 1930’s bringing joy in the middle of the Depression and studio-saving dollars to the Fox Film Corporation. There was no one like her in the film world or in society at the time, and Temple unequalled as America’s young sweetheart. It turned out that while she could mimic and perform with style and panache as a youngster, she really couldn’t act. But when she made her early-to-mid-1930’s film, she stood alone at the top.

1938—two winners, Deanna Durbin and Mickey Rooney. Durbin was 17 and Rooney was 18 by the time they received these awards. Durbin was a soprano singer often compared and contrasted with alto Judy Garland, and she stepped away as a young adult. Rooney was the biggest box office draw in 1939, and went on to 8 wives and a successful career.

1939—Judy Garland. Her performance in The Wizard of Oz couldn’t be ignored, and my guess is that even if she were allowed to compete with adults that year, she would have lost to Vivien Leigh for Gone with the Wind anyway. Sadly, this was her only Oscar, and it tends to be ignored by writers who don’t know that she received this.

Bob Hope presents Margaret O’Brien with the Academy’s first “Oscarette” for best performance of a child actress in 1944.

1944—Margaret O’Brien for Meet Me in St. Louis. O’Brien is both respected and sometimes dismissed as a great crier. Few could touch her for her ability to cry on cue, but she was an excellent actress who was unable to make the transition to adult roles. She later found a career on television.

1945—Peggy Ann Garner for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Junior Miss. Her work on the former is especially real and touching, and stands in stark contrast to many of the precocious and snarky child performances we often see today. Like O’Brien, she didn’t move into adult film roles but found success and the stage and in television. She died at the young age of 52.

1946—Claude Jarman, Jr. At 10, he landed his first film role as the star of The Yearling, a classic well-made tearjerker that was the first of his 11 films. While he made a few other films as a youngster, he never succeeded as an adult actor. He found business success behind the scenes, however, including running the San Francisco Film Festival for 15 years and producing documentaries.

1948—Ivan Jandl. This long-forgotten actor won this award for his performance as a 9-year-old Czechoslovakian Auschwitz survivor in The Search.  While this film is often remembered for Montgomery Clift’s first Oscar nomination, and the quote that was asked of the film’s director Fred Zinneman—“Where did you find a soldier who can act so well”? –Jandl is a heartbreaking revelation. He spoke no English and learned his lines phonetically, but his eyes and naturalistic acting do the heavy lifting. He wasn’t allowed by the then-Communist government to come to the US to accept his award. He appeared in some Czech films after this but gave up films and found success in radio before his death at 50.

1949—Bobby Driscoll for So Dear to My Heart and The Window. He also served as the animation model and voice for the 1953’s Peter Pan, and was set to become a major star. But he was too often pigeonholed as a child actor, found it difficult to make the transition to adult role, and while he had some radio success, his drug addiction finally took him at the age of 31.  

1954—Jon Whitely and Vincent Winter for The Little Kidnappers. These actors and this British film are largely forgotten today. Whitely continued acting in films for a few years and later became an art historian and author. Winter too acted for a few years and then worked behind the scenes as a production manager for films such as Superman III, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and 1985’s The Color Purple.

1960—Hayley Mills, the only winner still living as of this writing. Oscar-winning actor John Mill’s younger daughter won this award for Walt Disney’s Pollyanna, but should have won it the year before for Tiger Bay. She was great in 1961’s The Parent Trap (yes, the original), and in Whistle Down the Wind (a British production), and had success in In Search of the Castaways (1962) and The Chalk Garden and The Moon-Spinners (both 1964). She later made some less-successful films and some questionable life choices, and never achieved the success that her early films promised. She did television and stage work later in life and was recently seen in a small role in M. Night Shyamalan’s 2024 Trap as an FBI profiler. Her life is one of the classic “What we sadly missed because of life choices” stories in the world of film.

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Mission: Impossible–The Final Reckoning

Posted on June 16, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Full disclosure: I’ve semi-enjoyed the previous films in the series, but TBH, they all blur in the mind. I made sure I saw the prior film (Dead Reckoning, Part One) the night before I saw this film. That helped me with the setup of FR, which jumps right off the end of the earlier film and plunges the viewer right into the action.

Although who knows what Tom Cruise is planning on doing in the future with this series—there have been indications that this is the end, and that it’s not—this film seemed like a wrap-up … a L.O.N.G. drawn-out and overly reverential finale. I’ve not been engaged enough in the individual characters over the years, except for Simon Pegg (always enjoyable, even when playing serious), and I’ve been even less engaged with the dynamics between and among the characters. If you enjoy the characters and their interplay, then this one is for you. And there are plenty to choose from in addition to Cruise and Pegg. Of course there is Ving Rhames, who is the emotional anchor of the film. He may well be the best thing in it. Then there is Hayley Atwell, whom I’ve enjoyed in other films, but doesn’t register as strongly here. (Probably not her fault, as her character is not as strongly defined as it could have been. She’s given a lot to do, but not much to be.) It was fun to see Hannah Waddington as an Admiral, and to see Janet McTeer and Angela Bassett in roles that unfortunately barely tapped into their strengths.

Two actors brought their pervious acting personas into this film in somewhat conflicting ways. Nick Offerman is of course a comic actor, and here he is given a straight and even dramatic role. He pulls it off well, but one has to get past seeing Ron Swanson in a military uniform. Then there is Tramell Tillman, who is going to give future casting directors and directors a challenge. His character in “Severance” is fascinating and disturbing. There is an is he?/isn’t he? quality in his Mr. Milchick, and it works perfectly, if not disquietingly, in that series. But that quality needed to be pushed back here, and it wasn’t always. I wonder where his career is going to go, and if there are directors who can either use that aspect of Tillman or can help him bury it for the sake of a character. So as far as those many characters go, except for Rhames, I’m not fully on board.

I am on board, however, with the technical aspects of the film. Fraser Taggart’s cinematography is crisp and clean, with an abundance of power shots that can get a bit old as the film progresses. But otherwise, it’s a great looking film, with more depth in the images and a welcome use of shadow.

The biggest strength of the film IMHO is the soundscape. The score by Alfie Godfrey and Max Aruj is blended expertly with the sounds created by the sound department. The film should clearly get a nomination for Best Sound. In some films, Best Sound means the loudest sound. Not here. The sound is assertive without being aggressive, and works like a classical pas de deux with the visuals. It should be studied as an example of providing a full and rich music score and soundscape without overpowering what we’re watching.

The film is too long by almost an hour, unless you like elongated action scenes that are well done and extended to the point of exhaustion. There isn’t an action set piece or stunt that wasn’t stretched out, causing them to become films-within-the-film that have a life of their own and that fail to connect with the rest of the film, which does have a plot that might have been enriched by those scenes.

Also drawn out was the delivery of nearly every actor in the film. I understand that we’re doing a reverential homage here to the previous films in the series, but does that mean that we all have to speak so very slowly and enunciate so clearly so much of the time? I was longing for the tempo of a ‘40s film like White Heat or any other film that moved. I thought I’d be seeing an action movie and but ended up with a talking marathon interrupted by action set pieces. The slow speaking also extends to the so-called suspenseful scenes. When folks are on the verge of being blown up or otherwise destroyed, it’s amazing how slowly folks can speak. The absolute worst example is the long and drawn-out last scene between Cruise and Rhames. What clearly was intended to be a deeply emotional scene between two old friends moves into sheer nonsense. Spoiler alert: Rhames is going to die, he knows it, and there is nothing he can do. Nothing, that is, but warn his beloved friend Cruise that if he doesn’t get moving (i.e., fun fast), he’s not going to make it. But the goodbye is stretched out beyond credulity and instead of being emotionally realistic, it ends up being another last-minute, will-he-make-it setup for more Cruise flying on foot. It this is supposed to make Cruise’s character emotionally deep, it instead presents him as something of an idiot for waiting so long, especially when his closest friend is trying so hard to save his life.

And speaking of the 1940s, the plot here is in the same confusing league as The Big Sleep. The film is scarily both prescient and cutting-edge in its plot about AI taking over (no spoilers here). But there’s an awful lot going on, and not being a big fan of the series, the plot seemed overly complex and confusing. The bottom line was always clear, though: The world needs Tom Cruise to save it, again and again.

Then there is the TV habit of having everything explained to us as viewers by a large group of folks, each taking their turn, each taking their time, adding finally to something like a full understanding of what is going on and what needs to happen. Some of the lines here are laughable:

  • “I need you to trust me…one last time.”
  • “Every risk you’ve taken, every comrade you’ve lost in the field, every personal sacrifice you made, has brought this world another sunrise.”
  • “For every life you try to save, you gamble millions more. And now the fate of every living soul on Earth is your responsibility.”
  • And my favorite: “It’s just pain.”

But then there was the humor around the cutting of the red wire—well done. And “You’re spending too much time on the internet” garnered a good laugh.

I experience three Tom Cruises. One is the serious actor that can do both heavy thespian lifting and classic comic roles (e.g., Born on the Fourth of July, Magnolia, Tropic Thunder). Then there is the action star (take your pick). This film features the aging star at his finest, running (sometimes unnecessarily) everywhere with great abandon, and showing us again and again and again what incredible shape he is in for a 60-year-old. And then there is the wackadoo Cruise who challenges folks on medications and who avail themselves of counseling help, and who has a scary relationship with the even scarier Scientology leader David Miscavige.  (You can see a starter video at https://www.reddit.com/r/Fauxmoi/comments/1lc7t7b/tom_cruises_2004_acceptance_speech_for/). But honestly, a deep dive is available and recommended on how crazy Cruise is if you just begin to look, especially with films such Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief or Leah Remini’s brave series, “Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath.”

If you are a dedicated MI fan à la Star Wars, then it may well work as an enjoyable homage to the entire series. If you’re looking for a great action film that moves the plot along with energy and verve, this isn’t it.

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Strait Undercover

Posted on May 13, 2025 by Mark DuPré

The plot of Strait Undercover is described on IMDB as “A biotech company secretly housing a government contract for terminator seeds and a Nexxus robot is infiltrated by a low-level USDA agent who connects telepathically with nature.” Sounds bizarre, and it is. But that doesn’t matter at all, as the plot is just an opportunity to highlight the acting talents of Race Eberhardt, who is reported as being the first person with obvious disabilities to be the lead in a film that never calls attention to his disabilities. There have been many actors, genuinely disabled or not, who have played similar leads in other films (e.g., The Theory of Everything, I Am Sam, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, The Peanut Butter Falcon, etc.), but this one ignores Race’s disabilities completely and puts him squarely in the lead role without comment.

I can’t be objective here for a couple of reasons. One is that I know Race personally and have for a few years now. The other is that Race’s acting career began with Artists Unlimited, a Rochester, New York-based theatrical troupe that “provides opportunities for individuals with developmental, physical, or intellectual disabilities to participate in the performing arts.” Race is an integral part of Artists Umlimited. I have been one of the artistic directors at AU for a few years, and have recently joined the Board of Directors as well.

This is a low-budget film with few “real actors” that won’t ever be nominated for an Oscar, although the film looks great. But Race in the lead is a revelation. Writer/director Ben Genyo, who discovered Race a few years ago and decided to build a film around him, uses his main actor as well as any director ever used his lead. Race has a lot of strengths as an actor: he can be funny, angry, loud, and thoughtful, and Gonyo finds and pulls out that acting “sweet spot” in every scene. He clearly knows what Race is capable of, and he draws out his best in every scene.

It takes a few minutes to adjust to having a disabled person as the lead character in a film that draws zero attention to that. But once you get used to Race’s rhythms and personality, it becomes delightful.

If I were writing my typical film analysis (see www.film-prof.com), I might go into the other actors, the editing, the production values, and the intriguing twists and turns of the plot. That’s not necessary here. The plot is bonkers but fun, and the only standout visually is some truly beautiful shots of western New York State, from beautiful landscape shots to old, classic farmhouses. Yes, Strait Undercover is low-budget and independent, but it’s also groundbreaking. If you thought you couldn’t enjoy such a film, just give yourself the opportunity—if you can find it—to see how a good director with sensitivity and insight can locate and draw out the treasures inside his lead.

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Yentl

Posted on April 17, 2025 by Mark DuPré

My head is still spinning after my recent rewatch of 1983’s Yentl after originally seeing it in the theater when it was released. Spinning because so much of it was so very good, spinning because much of it was so not good, spinning because there are so many moving parts to consider—and because it’s been hard to view the film as a film apart from all that has been written around it—including from director Barbra Streisand herself. It’s been presented as an example of sexism in the industry, from getting it off the ground to the uneven awards attention to it. It departed significantly from the original short story from Isaac Bashevis Singer, and that provoked some backlash, most strongly from the author. Streisand and the film echoed Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane in that it was her first directorial feature, she produced it, co-wrote it, and starred in it—exactly like Welles and Kane. And exactly like Welles and Kane, there was a great deal of personal animosity around her probably rooted in jealousy, and also, probably, due to personality conflicts with a strong temperament.

Overall, this is a solid-directed film that looks great, thanks to Streisand’s eye, the cinematography by David Watkin (Oscar for this work on Out of Africa), and the production designers. Streisand had a limited budget but made the best of it with her use of small, well-lit rooms and some lovely landscape shots. There is a confidence and artistry at work that is seldom found in a first film. The “No Wonder” scene (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAgMoKBGjT8) is a master class in camera movement, lighting, timing of lines, singing, and acting. It’s complex, touching, and extraordinary.

Continuing with what works, we have Tony-winning actor Mandy Patinkin in his first film. Streisand reports a lot of problems with him, both due to personality conflicts, his attitude, and his making the often-difficult transition from stage to film acting. She originally wanted Richard Gere, partly for his looks. But Patinkin was Jewish, looked right for the part, and was excellent in the role. He was strong, funny, angry, hurt, excited, and in love at all the right moments. Streisand apparently had to work with him to introduce stillness into his performance and to forego theatrical mannerisms, and to her great credit, she clearly succeeded. In spite of Streisand’s overwhelming presence in the film, Patinkin gives the better performance

Amy Irving has the responsibility of looking softly beautiful and acting genuinely sweet à la Melanie in Gone with Wind. She succeeds on both fronts.

Then there are the difficulties: the script/story and the central performance. Streisand and co-writer Jack Rosenthal veered away from the more realistic but downbeat story of Singer’s tale and turned it into a feminist manifesto. Yes, the story is of a young woman who wants to read but can’t because her Jewish culture only gave that privilege to men, and therefore she dresses like a man and pretends. The genuine pathos of that is unfortunately driven into the ground by the unsubtle repetition of that major dilemma, making us connect more closely with Patinkin’s character as he gets his fill of Yentl’s ceaseless questioning and challenging. Nuance, and therefore deep pathos, are sacrificed as we are told, endlessly, what’s wrong and why it should change.

Also, and most regrettably, the ending has the central character embracing her identity as a woman and going to America!, where women are free to read. So instead of a moving, focused, perhaps sad story of a woman torn by culture who faces an uncertain future, we are given a girl-power, find-my-true-self, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar filmic manifesto. That may have been fresh in 1983….

Plus, that closing sequence, essentially a complete repeat of the ending of her first film, Funny Girl, just nails that ‘80s female empowerment story trajectory down. Streisand/Yentl (at this point, there is no distinction) is on a boat, singing her guts (if not her heart) out and proving once more that she is one of the great singers of her generation and can hold out a note like nobody’s business. And that’s just indicative of one of the film’s biggest problems, and that is Streisand’s performance. One is tempted to say that she should have either acted or directed, but not both. I would agree with that, but that thought is relegated to the dustbin of “if only”.

There is a full, luscious, and romantic score by Michel Legrand (winning the only Oscar for the film, plus previous Oscars for the score of Summer of ’42 and the song “Windmills of Your Mind” from 1969’s The Thomas Crown Affair. (Lyrics for all three wins were by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman.) There is a certain sameness to the various songs, but they are by the same composer, and arranged in a specific unvarying style, and sung in a uniform style by Streisand.

That’s where some of the head-spinning comes from. Streisand has a glorious voice, but it stays unchangingly beautiful throughout and that beautiful voice seems to determine more than it should. It doesn’t bend to the character or the situation as much as it bends to the ideal of the perfect Streisand vocal performance. Yes, she acts in each song to a point, but the lovely voice and stunning vocal interpretation take precedence; the acting is subservient to the gorgeous sounds we’re hearing. With few exceptions (“No Wonder” being the great exception) we rarely experience anything but perfect and lovely singing, and we’re left less affected by the story or the character as much as by the impression that, darn, that girl can sing!!

Then there’s her performance. Yentl is a fable, which can account for a young-looking 40-year-old female getting away with acting like a man two decades her junior. That smooth face, those beautiful nails on her hands, that voice that in spite of a few seconds of her trying to speech in a lower pitch, still sounds like a young girl—they all are something we and the film’s characters are expected to accept as a version of manhood. When Yentl gets emotional, or even when she doesn’t, she sounds like no male on earth.

But even with accepting the fairy-tale aspect of the story, we have an uneven central performance. Streisand’s vocals and her intensity when acting can cover a multitude of thespian missteps, which are so constant throughout the film that it is easy to just accept them or ignore them. Streisand is a legendarily self-focused performer, and when she’s acting, she’s acting—one can see it. We see the work, the focus, the dedication. But then there are moments when she is obviously not paying attention to what she’s doing, and some grace notes appear. Usually they are when she is unselfconsciously reacting to someone else, and we get a glimpse of what the performance might have been if directed by someone who could have challenged her to let go and accept someone else’s direction.

Then there is the actual character of Yentl, or Anshel, which is Yentl’s “undercover” name. Must as she might have tried, Streisand seemed unable to shake off the American Yiddish mannerisms that worked so well in Funny Girl, and instead comes across as Sadie from Brooklyn far too often. Instead of Singer’s “Yentl, the Yeshiva Boy” (the original story’s title), we far too often have “Rose the Borsch Belt Comedienne.” The Fanny Brice intonations are so threaded into the performance that there is no escaping them, and we can become inured to them. But that doesn’t make them right for the part.

Perhaps because I am a singer and work with singers and actors to get the best performances from them, I am more sensitive to elements of singing and acting that don’t work for a play or film. Streisand’s performances as singer and actor are powerful and engaging, but they are to the detriment of a film that in all other ways is a handsome picture with some good performances. And finally, and simply, it has some of the best singing that, while not always appropriate in context, is some of the most entrancing you’ll ever hear.

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Ryan’s Daughter

Posted on April 13, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Fifty-five years after its release, 1970’s Ryan’s Daughter surely needs another look. The reputation of this David Lean-directed film has suffered over the years for a couple of key reasons: its own genuine weaknesses plus the breadth of its scope. Some of the criticisms leveled against the film upon its release hold up well today: it’s a slight story that’s given an extraordinary cinematic presentation. It’s gloriously photographed by Lean’s go-to cinematographer Freddie Young (Oscars for this film, Lawrence of Arabia, and Doctor Zhivago)—all Lean films. The music is by Maurice Jarre (Oscars for the scores of A Passage to India, Doctor Zhivago, and Lawrence of Arabia—all Lean films).

The cinematography dwarfs the story, even when the broader issues of Irish resistance to the British and the at-first-minor-and-then-major story line of the Ryan of the title and his political activities are taken into account. There is a line that can be traced from Lean’s earlier work to this penultimate film, and then finally, A Passage to India. Lean began as an editor in his native England in the 1930s, working on classics like Pygmalion, 49th Parallel, and One of Our Aircraft is Missing. He is reported to have taken over directing duties from Noel Coward in 1942’s In Which We Serve after just a few weeks, and his directing career was off and running: Blithe Spirit, Brief Encounter, Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, The Sound Barrier, Hobson’s Choice, and Summertime, all before his first epic. Those films, many of which are still quite moving, were marked by a taut storytelling technique that was stylish without being self-conscious. What followed them was the multiple Oscar-winning The Bridge on the River Kwai, which won seven Oscars, including Best Picture and Best DIrecor.  This success began a trend that led to his greatest epics and may at the same time have been a kind of early death knell for this career.

Kwai was followed by one of the great epics of all time, Lawrence of Arabia, which set a still-fascinating personal story against a historical background whose events were tightly woven into Lawrence’s personal journey. Most consider this film his greatest, and its combination of story and historical setting may well be the best any epic can achieve. The film, like Kwai, won seven Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Director, and Lean seemed to be able to do no wrong.

Lean’s greatest financial success came next with Doctor Zhivago, which marked a slight downturn artistically. It won five Oscars, but the winning and losing nominations tell the story: It was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director, but didn’t win. Winners were for Robert Bolt for screenplay, Cinematography (Young again), score (Jarre again), Costume Design—color, and Best Art Direction/Set Direction—color. When the technical awards are the winners, and the top categories go to other films, one can hear the bell tolling, even in the midst of great success. The central love story seemed a bit thin, even with the easy-on-the-eyes couple of Omar Sharif and Julie Christie at the center. The adultery, which seems to be a theme in a lot of Lean’s films, seems particularly unpleasant, and the film leans on its music score far too much to paste over some of its narrative weaknesses.

Which leads us to Ryan’s Daughter. Lean took a very long time to direct this film, waiting for full year, for example, for the right storm to arrive for its climactic sequence. The visuals are still impressive, but the connection between nature and the plot, while done with aplomb, puts a lot of pressure on the central love stories to rise to the level of the beauties and fierceness of nature. And they don’t rise to that level, making the personal challenges and traumas seem that much lighter and insignificant by comparison—a loss for the film, as the realities of the situation are gut-wrenching. The gun-running that features so strongly at one somewhat tacked on rather than integral. Many felt a film this slight (and there is nothing wrong with slight) may well have been approached more like his Brief Encounter, which was smaller, more focused, and exquisite.

Forgetting all the cinematic background and looking at the film with fresh eyes, it still seems too small for its visual and aural setting, but there are some elements that should be noted, for good or bad. The music by Maurice Jarre has a central theme that became the hit “It Was a Good Time,” and it was impossible to not hear that song and its lyrics when the first notes of the theme appeared (and appeared, and appeared…). Yes, the film is nearly 3.5 hours long, but even a delightful theme can wear out its welcome after a while. The rest of the scoring, apart from the use of the central theme, seemed amateurish and typical of a second-rate Hollywood studio film.

Then there is the casting. The main male character, who is a shy, quiet, sex-averse small-town teacher played by…huh?…Robert Mitchum. Lean apparently said he like to cast against type, and he certainly did so here. Reports are that Lean wanted his own Lawrence, Peter O’Toole to play the role, but the timing wasn’t right. Mitchum acted beautifully, but his persona as a strong red-blooded American male is so strong that it was constantly at odds with the character he was portraying, plus you can catch him acting at times rather than embodying.

Christopher Jones as the British officer is quite another story. He is introduced with an overwhelming phallic symbol that was a big shocking visually, and he should have been nominated for Best Standing Silhouette with how many times Lean had him standing, generally with his back to the viewer, against the sky. Apparently, there were several personal reasons that Jones doesn’t register much, but to describe him as a recessive presence only scratches the surface. His dialogue had to be re-recorded by another actor, which included only a handful of lines, and in his lovemaking scene with the lead actress, he looked as if he were about to fall sleep.

That lead actress was the surprise to me. Sarah Miles was known for being lovely, and that was all I recalled from my first viewing. But her Oscar nomination as Best Actress was well deserved. She wore her loveliness like an outer garment, never leaning into it as many screen beauties do. Her eyes did much of the acting for her, and she moved from angst to anger to touching softness with ease. Perhaps an actress with a stronger personality would have lent this character more fire and agency, but this was one area in the film where the love story and the historical context met and thrived: her character, Rosy, seemed as much of the product of the time and place as the Irishmen that were fighting the British. Another actress might have burned a hole through the film with this character, but Miles’ softness of look and personality made her performance of a piece with everything surrounding her.

The film is also remembered for providing an Oscar for one of Britain’s most stalwart character actors, John Mills, who worked with Lean as early as in In Which We Serve (1942). Here, Mills played Michael, the “village idiot” with the good heart. All I could think of was how Tropic Thunder failed to mention this performance in one of its most famous sequences, but indeed, Mills (father of Oscar-winning Hayley) won the Oscar for his portrayal. Looking at the performance with more modern eyes, it seemed overdone except for the last few scenes.  A performance not nominated but which should have been was screen legend Trevor Howard’s work as the town priest, a magnificently complicated character with more personal authority than anyone else in the film. As a pastor myself, I could relate to his character very strongly, and I felt what he was feeling in each of his scenes (though—spoiler alert—I would never slap someone I was counseling). It could rightly be called a towering performance.

Again, from today’s perspective, the treatment of the Irish townspeople comes across as condescending. They constantly needed the priest to come in to break up fights, mob scenes, drunken brawls, and beatings. They were generally portrayed as a mob rather than a group of individuals, though there were some personalities we got to know—but none that we came to respect. They drank too much and were easily led, especially down wrong roads. They were insensitive to anyone needing sensitivity, and were as hot-headed and judgmental as a group could be. That could well be the fault of the script, but when the only townsperson we come to like, aside from the priest, is the “village idiot,” there seems a lack of nuance.

This film was one of the last of the big road-show films that were meant to be long, higher-priced, large in scope, shown in special theaters, and with an intermission. But by the time the film appeared, that moment had mostly passed. Now, with its availability on streaming services, it’s well worth watching for those with the patience for long scenes with shots that dwell on nature’s beauty and wrath. (Note to parents: the illicit love scene is signaled way before it occurs, and a little fast-forwarding can get you past it pretty quickly.)

Ryan’s Daughter was a great disappointment critically, though it was successful financially. Rumors had it that Lean’s disappointment with how his film was received was the sole reason behind the big break that occurred before the release of his last film, A Passage to India (1984). That may well have been part of it, but there were apparently many stumbles along the way in terms of what would be his next project. Like Ryan’s Daughter, the film, while praised visually and for its performances, was rightly called “a big movie about very small things.” The Academy crowned it with 11 Oscar nominations, but it won only two, for Peggy Ashcroft as Best Supporting Actress in what might be considered a career win, and for, once again, Maurice Jarre’s music score. Oscars for Best Picture, Director, Actress in a Leading Role, Screenplay, Cinematography, Art Direction, Costume Design, Sound, and Editing all went elsewhere. But its success left Lean with a success on which to retire.

Lean’s success with his big, epic, color films should be appreciated. But his earlier work in England with his black-and-white films should be as much respected, if not more. In many ways, they stand up today in ways that some of the big epics don’t, and his work in the 1940s and 1950s should be require for all serious cinephiles.

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Snow White (2025)

Posted on March 30, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Oy! Where to begin with Snow White?!

Let’s start with the star, Rachel Zegler, the female lead of the recent West Side Story. Her presence outside her newest film has far overshadowed her presence within as the titular character, and she has become, I have to agree, a PR nightmare. Her statements trashing the groundbreaking original 1937 film and her breathtakingly narcissistic political statements have all served to present a picture of an unrestrained (hey, Disney execs, where were you?), uninformed, self-serving entitled brat that couldn’t help but dig a hole and just keep digging and digging. Zegler is talented (but she’s a better singer than a thespian) and will eventually come back from the precipice here. But for now, it’s hard to see the film without seeing the actress (and rehearsing the specifics of her babblings)—deadly for a movie.

The film itself? There are good parts, some very good. There is also rampant stupidity throughout. There are one or two good decisions on how to update without mangling. There are many more poor decisions that make this film a mess. There is confusing ideology for those interested in that aspect; yes, there is a pro-communism aspect that is hard to miss. To me, the biggest glitch is the imposition of an extremely self-centered “girl power” onto this classic fairy tale. I get that just waiting around for a prince doesn’t quite work in 2025. But if I hear one more song crying out that the ultimate expression of life is to become the great person you know you are and to give full expression to your id (hello, The Greatest Showman)—well, my hair is already white, so I’m not sure what effect it will have on me.

Back to Zegler and one note of so-called controversy. The movie is called Snow White, and Snow White is supposed to have skin as white as snow. Zegler is Columbian, yet nothing close to having dark enough skin to exempt her from the role. She easily looks like Snow White. Actually, no real person matching the 1937 Snow White would look healthy enough to take on the role. So here is what I have to say about that tempest in a teapot:

Apart from Zegler, the film has plenty of problems of its own. They have taken out a lot of the music of the original and replaced it with generic modern Disney princess music. I get it that most music of the 1930’s isn’t going to fly with modern audiences. But they dropped the lovely “Some Day My Prince Will Come,” a big mistake. They could easily have repositioned it and made it work well. (Why, why didn’t they ask me—I would have known exactly what do to with that song!) Is “Waiting on a Wish” the substitute? Sigh….

“Whistle While You Work” remains intact, even if the song now has a rather bossy and ungrateful princess bossing the little people around. The most successful update, IMHO, is “Heigh Ho,” which gets a modern update that almost gets too big for the film, but which ultimately stays in its place and honors the original. Some nice vocals there, too.

Of all the new songs, for which I predict both little humming from those walking out of the theater and a short shelf life after that, the most enjoyable to this author was “A Hand Meets a Hand,” a song Snow White sings with Prince Charming, the prince, the male lead, played by Andrew Burnap. I’ll get to him later. (Also, the song sounds suspiciously like “I Like the View from Here” from “Spirited,” also written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul.)

The less said about “Princess Problems, well sung by Burnap but jarringly modern in the worst Disney TV style, the better.

None of the major players escapes unscathed, regrettably, and for quite different reasons. Even if you never heard of Zegler before seeing the movie, you come away with the impression of a girl with a lovely lilting voice that wasn’t allowed to let loose, in terms of either acting or singing. Zegler isn’t a deep actress (at least not yet), and she skims the surface of the lead character with aplomb and deftness, but with little more. It seems that she was often concentrating on hitting her mark sometimes, understandable when you know you’re going to have animated creatures all around you.

Burnap is an interesting choice. He has a bigger and much more expressive voice than he is allowed to show here (perhaps not to compete with Zegler’s?). He’s also interesting visually. He is handsome, but not in the typical almost too-too-looking Disney prince mode (perhaps not to compete with Zegler?) That makes sense in that he is not a prince, but a thief, albeit one dressed in woodland chic. He and Ansu Kabia (“Miss Scarlet,” “World on Fire”) come out best in the film.

Which, both ironically and unfortunately, leads us to an actress and person I admire, Gal Gadot. First, the irony. As been noted by many folks, while Zegler is a very pretty, even lovely young woman, Gadot is, again IMHO, one of the most beautiful women in the world. There is no way this film’s Snow White is “fairer” than Gadot’s wicked queen. Given Gadot’s height and presence, she constantly overwhelms SW in all their scenes. Gadot looks as if she could swallow Zegler in one gulp, and there were moments…

But unfortunately, there are two weakness in Gadot’s performance. Again, as has been duly noted elsewhere, Gadot doesn’t have a great singing voice. Yes, she hits the notes, but that doesn’t make her a singer. A singer doesn’t just hit the notes but surrounds the notes. She can’t do that, and it undermines her big song, “All is Fair,” which is in the Disney mode of “Poor Unfortunate Souls” (The Little Mermaid) and “Mother Knows Best” (Tangled). Those songs had belters that knew how to bring down the house. Gadot, with a great deal of help from the production design and choreography, almost pulls it off, but not quite.

Lastly, and this is hard to write, Gadot just doesn’t bring the evil. I noticed just one (silent) moment when I saw the proper level of malevolence in her eyes. Her wicked queen is glamorous, selfish, conniving, and does great work with those hands and nails. But if they had only asked me, as a director of actors, I could have drawn the proper level of scary nastiness out of her. This wicked stepmother just isn’t frightening enough. (Again, why didn’t they ask me? 😁)

Then there are the dwarves, the little people, the woodland creatures. Opinions vary greatly, but I think they should have given seven actors with dwarfism the chance to have significant roles in a major film, Peter Dinklage’s comments aside. The creatures are well rendered, especially Dopey, whose liquid eyes could melt the hardest heart. But this is supposed to be a live-action remake, and we’re back in Song of the South and Mary Poppins territory here. The singing forest animals make sense as computer-created, but the mix of real people with the “creatures” doesn’t quite work here.

There’s a lot more to kvetch about with this remake. We could call it a creative mélange of ideas and styles and perspectives, but really, it’s a mess. Some individual scenes work well (the duet, the run through the scary forest, the actual kiss), and there are some lovely visuals now and then, but all put together, one has to wonder what it was supposed to be all about. This film will be analyzed for a very long time.

One last positive thought. The de rigueur Disney community dance scene at the end features actual creative choreography, not just a demonstration of how exhausting and packed with gymnastic gyrations a dance number can be (hello, Wicked and “Spirited”). I can only hope that this is the one thing that creatives will take away from the film.

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Quick Takes on Black Bag and No Address

Posted on March 26, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Black Bag is a cross between the Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie film Mr. and Mrs. Smith and an Agatha Christie film, albeit modernized and quite slick. It’s a film about marriage (surprisingly supportive of monogamy) and it’s full of schemes and lying and double- and triple-crosses. It’s directed with whip-smart precision by Oscar-winning director Steven Soderbergh (Traffic) and has some of the best actors around, including Michael Fassbender, two-time Oscar winner Cate Blanchett, as well as Mank’s Tom Burke, “Bridgerton”’s René-Jean Page (still on the short list for the new James Bond, though I don’t think this film will further that cause) and James Bond’s Moneypenny Naomie Harris. Great cast, but not used to their fullest.

Michael Fassbender can burn through the screen when given the chance, but here he is emotionally unavailable to the rest of the cast and to us. Makes it hard to connect. His wife is played by Blanchett, who wafts ethereally through most of the film like a chiffoned combination of Kay Francis and Tallulah Bankhead at their most removed and elegant. The life in the characters has to come from the second tier, who are the only ones bringing the energy throughout.

I may see this film again, as I respect the actors and the director. But here is where I have to mention my personal experience. I was still post-surgical and very tired, not an ideal situation for seeing this film. The sound was also down in the theater, making the soft-spoken and rapid dialogue almost impossible to understand. Yes, I actually fell asleep until my brother Chris elbowed me. I don’t mind films that demand my close attention, but there was so much going on (quietly), so much just alluded to, and so little light shed in the first part of the film that I gave up trying to understand the plot. Having so many folks lying and conniving and hiding their actions and motives are a bit much for me when I’m fully awake; when I’m still recovering and having a hard time concentrating—not a good combination.

The film is beautiful to look at, but it is overcomplicated (probably not in The Big Sleep category) and can only be put together in pieces, assuming the viewer is able to take in those pieces. My friend Kyle Rice happened to be at the same screening, and he make the excellent point that the central scheme should have been more clearly exposited, especially toward the beginning, so that at least that part of the film wasn’t in the shadows until the end. It’s fine to keep wondering who was doing what to whom, but the parsing out of the central scheme that connected the main players was a bridge too far.

Maybe a second viewing will help.

No Address

No Address hasn’t been released yet, but I was able to see an advance screening. It’s a message film about homelessness. It’s a bit beyond criticism for two reasons: the theme is about a situation we can all agree is terrible and should be understood and addressed on many levels…and a dear friend was involved in its distribution.

It has a few real stars: William Baldwin of Baldwin brothers fame and Beverly D’Angelo of the Chevy Chase Vacation movies. The rest are relatively unknown but may have a future. What is strong and touching is the reality of the situation the film presents. It gives logical reasons why folks find themselves homeless, what that life can be like, and what can be done. Earnest is the key word here.

This is a first-time effort of this production company, though independent producer/director Julia Verdin has a strong track record (Maya, 2004’s The Merchant of Venice.) Its key strength is the heart-breaking situations that can lead to homelessness. But the characters are often stand-ins for various scenarios rather than deeply-etched and fully human individuals.  Their humanity is often sacrificed to the outlines of what they represent.

It’s to the film’s credit that they present one character who is clearly at fault for his situation, rather than portraying everyone as victims. Baldwin’s character makes one bad decision after another and winds up on the street. His fall is a bit cliché, as he begins the film as a businessman wanting to rid a development site he has a financial interest in as a homeless encampment, and ends up, of course, on the street. The other scenarios played out are not the fault of the people who found themselves in this situation, so the film plays it fair that yes, sometimes, back choices lead to bad situations.

What was perhaps the freshest aspect of the film was its view of life in the encampment, presented with a fascinating tension. There is a great deal of support there in the camp, with heavy “we are the family we couldn’t find elsewhere” vibes. The love and deep concern were genuinely touching. Yet…the film also shows how someone can get so caught up with the newly created family dynamics that they might not easily grab the opportunity to get out of that circumstance. In a film that teeters toward paint-by-numbers in its main characters, this is a welcome shading.

Make no mistake. This is a message film first and foremost. But the message needs to be heard. And this film should be seen.

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Thoughts and a Few Predictions for the 2025 Oscars

Posted on February 25, 2025 by Mark DuPré

Note: This entire article is dedicated to Steve Hogan.

My first thought on this year’s Oscar show is that it will be the least watched in a long time. There are no big points of interest, except perhaps a win for Demi Moore for Best Actress. That’s of some interest to those who have followed her personal and professional trajectory. But even that nomination is part of a film that few people have seen (The Substance), and many have understandably stayed away from.

There is also no big film vying for Best Picture that has captured the public’s interest. Last year, we had Barbie vs. Oppenheimer. Yes, Wicked was a big financial success, but it hasn’t done well in any category at any of the year’s awards, and there are enough issues with it that it won’t win the big prize. As for the rest of the nominees, the timing of many of the films’ releases, and the fact that some are essentially just “streamer” movies, has worked against them. Lastly, some of the films combine a mixture of languages and outré subject matter that have served to limit their audiences. As of this writing, the only film that has any cultural buzz is Conclave (yes, because of the pope’s illness), but all this has came after the nomination, as did Conclave’s somewhat surprising win at the Screen Actors Guild Awards). So, bottom line: No front runner, and no film that has the captured the average moviegoer’s interest.

So, I don’t care enough this year to do a complete predictions list, but here are some random thoughts:

Two acting awards are locked down: Kieran Culkin for A Real Pain and Zoe Saldaña for Emilia Pérez. No one else has a chance. I would have liked to see Edward Norton’s incredible performance in A Complete Unknown take this prize. But his and Culkin‘s performances, while equal in skill, are wildly different in the characters they portray. Culkin gets to go from stillness to tears to outright insanity, while Norton has exquisitely internalized a softer and deeper character. Both deserve the award, the Academy loves big and energetic performances. Yet Norton is a treasure who has done a deep character dive that I thought he was incapable of. I hope he gets his due soon.

Zoe Saldaña is a shoe-in for her work in Emilia Pérez, but TBH, all the nominees did work worthy of the award. Not one weak link in this incredible chain: Monica Barbara (A Complete Unknown), Ariana Grande (Wicked), Felicity Jones (my favorite for The Brutalist) and Isabella Rossellini (Conclave).

Best Actor: Hmmm. It looked like Adrian Brody was a pretty sure thing for The Brutalist, and his performance has a huge range, with highs and lows that the Academy loves.  He is extraordinary in the film, but he has already won for The Pianist, and the Academy might (might) have been affected by the recent momentum for Timothée Chalamet for his incarnation of Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown. A few months ago, I was rooting for Ralph Fiennes to get the award for his quietly intense and precise performance in Conclave. But for no reason I can figure out, I’m hoping for Chalamet and still thinking it’s going to be Brody.

Actress: It looked like it was going to be Mikey Madison for Anora a few months ago. But now I think it will be Demi Moore. But Moore has two things going for her aside from the quality of her performance. One, she has a narrative as an actress and a human being that the Academy loves. Also, she is up against Cynthia Erivo for Wicked, who has won almost nothing outside of a musical category, and a group of actresses starring in foreign language films. I think the foreign language actresses might cancel each other out, putting Moore on top.

I can’t help but guffaw at the Academy for its nomination of Karla Sofia Cascón and its aftermath. I could hear the backslapping and virtue signaling from here in upstate New York when the Academy nominated Cascón in the Best Actress category, congratulating the actor on a good performance while simultaneously nominating for the first time a (yes, I’m saying it) a biological male in the Best Actress category. Cascón is a “trans woman” and the film is about a trans woman, so it seemed a perfect fit for today’s Academy to celebrate the film and its central performance. But then there came the revelation of all the controversial tweets Cascón released a few years ago. Now the actor is persona non grata and hasn’t attended recent award shows that have the actor nominated. But apparently we will see Cascón at the Oscars, where the actor will surely be awkwardly celebrated from the stage at some point.

 Thanks to those who have kept reading this….

Animated Feature Film. I just have a question: Will Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl win after Flow and The Wild Robot cancel each other out? Or will Inside Out 2’s massive grosses sway the voters?

Dune: Part Two is an extraordinary film whose earlier release in the year will likely limit its awards. But it should win some technical awards: perhaps Best Cinematography (though The Brutalist may well take this one). Same for Production Design, which I think Dune will win as The Brutalist, Conclave and Wicked duke it out. I thought Sound would clearly go to Dune, and it still might. But three of the other nominees are strong contenders as well  (A Complete Unknown, Emilia Pérez, and Wicked. Visual Effects: Dune better win.

The Screenplay awards double as an award for the actual writing as well as for an entire film that won’t win Best Picture. Adapted Screenplay: This is the Academy’s chance to anoint Conclave. Original Screenplay: Probably Jesse Eisenberg for A Real Pain. The Academy loves giving actors this award (can you say Matt Damon and Ben Affeck?), and it is a deep but uncomplicated script that is as worthy to win as its competitors in this category.

The Brutalist’s score is extraordinary, and it should win Best Score.

In the “who cares? Category, I nominate “Best Song”.

Oh, yeah, Best Picture and Best Director. No obvious leader here. For me, it’s a duel between The Brutalist and Anora for both categories. But has anyone reading this even seen these films? Asking for a friend….

Of course, all the categories I’ve left out here are full of films made by hard-working and talented people. But most haven’t captured the public’s interest, and I haven’t had the time or inclination to see all of them.

Of course I’ll watch the show, but I have to quote Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerburg in The Social Network as I watch: “You have part of my attention—you have the minimum amount.”

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