The Oscar committee annually oscillates between legitimizing and illegitimizing itself with the movie-going public. That is to say, for every ‘Saving Private Ryan,’ there is an ‘English Patient.’
The Academy regularly overlooks certain more deserving nominees in order to give lifetime achievement awards. They did so generally with Scorsese for ‘Gangs of New York’ and specifically with Denzel for ‘Training Day’ (while Russell Crowe sat idly by, having thrown down a masterful and far superior performance in ‘A Beautiful Mind’). The same could be said of Kim Basinger’s award for supporting actress in ‘L.A. Confidential’ in which she had a dozen lines and ten minutes of screen time.
Moreover, the Academy has become a collection of art-house double-latte enthusiasts without regard for films that people actually like. Indeed, this year, with nominees from films with ‘Rwanda’ in the title, and with plotlines like that of ‘Finding Neverland,’ both of which appeal to no demographic that I could ever define, I again grow weary with the Academy.
Put Rob Schneider where the monkey is and we got a 2005 blockbuster on our hands.
Instead, let us talk of a real phenomenon in Hollywood in this last decade. His name starts with ‘C’ and ends with a ‘D’ and in the middle there is ‘lint eastwoo.’ Here’s a guy that was undeniably an icon. For years, he carried at least part of the John Wayne torch. While performances in ‘The Outlaw Josey Wales,’ ‘Hang Em’ High,’ ‘Where Eagles Dare’ and as ‘Dirty’ Harry Callahan do not exhibit anything that could be called tremendous range, I’ll be damned if they were forgettable. The hawkish, hard-hearted, hard-nosed, hardass is what we came to know, love, and respect about Clint.
However, there were blips. In 1978 and 1980 respectively, Clint found himself opposite an orangutan co-star, not once, but twice. TWO TIMES reading lines to a monkey, people! That sort of brash behavior seems like a direct affront to the audience! How could he go on? Was he not primed for a reality television gig? Instead, we find that the public is quite forgiving when it comes to animal-buddy pictures. (Yes, I am talking to you Tom Hanks, for your cinematic sins.)
As if a star could slide much further, in 1986, Clint found himself sharing screen-time with international mega uber star, Mario Van Peebles, in the immanently awful, ‘Heartbreak Ridge.’ (I have always felt that the Academy has turned a blind eye to the genius of Van Peebles, who starred in the emotional juggernaut, and I am not making this up, ‘The Hebrew Hammer.’)
In 1992, Eastwood delivered the ‘Unforgiven’ gem. His career was reborn. ‘Unforgiven’ is, clearly, an excellent film. Therein, Clint showed his hallmark commitment to the sort of saturated and overdrawn characters that one would more often find on a proper playhouse stage. Oscar came a-knocking. There was much rejoicing. In tandem with ‘Dances with Wolves,’ ‘Unforgiven’ brought new life to the western genre. (As a direct result of this, Costner bought a gross of chaps and made a western every six months. Thereafter, he bought a gross of goggles and did the same with the apocalyptic genre. Thereafter, he unsuccessfully tried to do the baseball genre again. Thereafter, he had his hair-plugs highlighted.)
Just as men around the world were starting to consider naming their first-born sons Clint or Clyde (the orangutan) again, Eastwood turned on us. In 1995, he starred in the estrogen-soaked film adaptation of ‘Bridges of Madison County.’ While grown men did weep as a result, women did not, unfortunately, and the film tanked. The death gargle was upon us.
One might now point to Eastwood’s right-leaning political tilt to emphasize the unlikelihood of his great success that was to follow. On January 11th, Eastwood told the star-dotted crowd attending the National Board of Review awards dinner at Tavern on the Green, his opinions on Michael Moore. Eastwood advised the commie filmmaker: “. . . Michael, if you ever show up at my front door with a camera - I’ll kill you.” The audience erupted in laughter, and Eastwood grinned dangerously. “I mean it,” he added, provoking more guffaws.
To think that this is the same man that directed renowned girly commies, Sean Penn and Tim Robbins, in the powerful and harrowing ‘Mystic River,’ makes the achievement that much more impressive. While ‘Mystic River’ cannot be watched twice without counseling and thumb-sucking, it is philosophically enriched and expertly delivered by all players. Appropriately, Oscar came a-knocking. He brought a casserole.
And now, Eastwood, former monkey-pal, with his highly-acclaimed ‘Million Dollar Baby,’ is running up the score. I am sad to say, however, that of all three of Eastwood’s Oscar carnivores, this one is the weakest. The acting is flawless. Certainly, when you view it and picture Peter Falk, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and, say, Mario Van Peebles in the respective leads, you’ll see what I mean. (Don’t get any funny ideas, CBS.)
Where M.D.B. falters is in its simplistic and manipulative story. I forgive that the boxing scenes are laughably unrealistic, but what leaves me wanting is the one-trick-pony Eastwood uses to generate the ultimate drama. I am reminded of novellas written by community college creative-writing majors. Eastwood boringly marries the audience to a lovable character, puts it in a burlap sack and whacks it with a hammer. In the words of Lionel Richie, the gimmick is “easy . . . easy like Sunday morning.” If I wanted to be depressed by cheap tricks, I could watch a guy throw puppies into a chipper-shredder, or Miami Dolphins’ football.
Where M.D.B also falters is its truly awful and misleading title. The promo department should be selling fudge-cicles in Minsk. It sounds like a Japanese translation of a movie title. (Imagine, for example, the title ‘Smiles and Satisfaction Hour’ sponsored by ‘Pleasure Making Cold Drink.’)
Ultimately, the production values carry the day and the film is engaging and passable. ‘Million Dollar Baby,’ is certainly a good movie but not a truly great one. On a scale of one to seven, I give it a gentleman’s ‘B’ with a bullet. What is more impressive, Eastwood is doubtlessly solidified as both a great actor and an artist, and a man who threatens to kill obese pinko creators of docu-fiction.
Kevin Dees at 5:01 pm
HA!!!!!!!!!….It sounds like a Japanese translation of a movie title. (Imagine, for example, the title ‘Smiles and Satisfaction Hour’ sponsored by ‘Pleasure Making Cold Drink.’)
Comment by Jackson — February 4, 2005 @ 2:00 pm