Best of 2010 Part 1/3: Honorable Mentions

With Awards Season entering its last few weeks, I figured it was about time to go over my favorites from 2010 in preparation for my 4th annual blog awards. I'll reveal top 10s and top 5s next week, and winners a few days before the Oscar ceremony (Feb. 27). Until then, here's a look back at those films and performances who were just outside of making the cutoff. Originally I hadn't planned on doing this, but one category in particular (Best Actress) had so many great candidates that I thought, why not give some recognition to those not in my lineups, just so that it doesn't seem like I forgot about them.

2010 Honorable Mentions

Best Picture: It should be noted that I'm having trouble putting together a finalized Top 10. So don't be surprised if one (or more) of these HM's actually ends up in my personal roster.

• The Ghost Writer: Carefully plotted, and marvelously atmospheric. Polanski's eye for framing is used to brilliant effect, and the letter-passing scene is one of the year's best.
• The Fighter: Its story was standard, but at its core it was more than a sports movie; it was a character piece, featuring an outstanding ensemble.
• Inception: A twisty narrative construct, fabulous editing, and thrilling sequences. If only the emotional angle was better executed and the screenplay weren't prone to such exposition-heavy dialogue...
• The American: One or two troubling plot points aside, Corbijn's sophomore effort deserves respect for its methodical yet steadily engrossing pacing, great performance from George Clooney, and gorgeous cinematography.

Best Director:

• Christopher Nolan, Inception: A true irony that Oscar snubbed him here and nominated his screenplay, when he's much better at directing and keeping his audience engaged in his narrative constructs.
• Nicole Holofcner, Please Give: An uncommonly engaging, well-edited look at the Manhattan middle class benefits from her straight forward yet effective style.
• Julian Jarrold, Red Riding 1974: The true-life murder mystery, already bolstered by good writing, acting, and strong visuals, gets an added bonus from his refreshingly level-headed style. He resists the temptation to sensationalize the story and its emotions, much to the film's gain.
• Roman Polanski, The Ghost Writer: A master adding another strong entry to his filmography. Time and scandal have done little to diminish his skill behind the camera.

Best Actor:

• Jesse Eisenberg, The Social Network: He delivers Sorkin's rapid-fire dialogue with brilliant precision, but that's not all. Take a second (or third) look, and you'll find much more than just acerbic wit.
• James Franco, 127 Hours: The entire movie rests on his ability to hold our attention, and he doesn't disappoint. A shame that the screenplay gives us so little to connect with or understand at the outset.

Best Actress:

• Giovanna Mezzogiorno, Vincere: Full-throttle emotion in the best sense of the term. Her lingering close-ups in the insane asylum speak volumes about her character's feelings of determination and desperation.
• Hye-ja Kim, Mother: She, like the film, starts with deceptive simplicity. As time passes, the tale and her performance become more surprising and more complex to startling effect.
• Tilda Swinton, I am Love: She does so much with the smallest movements. Cut through the film's larger-than-life style and iffy screenplay, and you're left with surprisingly subtle work in an otherwise over the top film. That prawn-eating sequence stands as one of the best reaction scenes of the year.
• Hailee Steinfeld, True Grit: Holding your own against one Oscar winner is big enough. Holding your own against two (often at the same time) and delivering intentionally archaic dialogue with aplomb for roughly 2 hours? That's just spectacular, especially when you're only 13 years old.

Best Supporting Actor:

• Cillian Murphy, Inception: What could have been a total throwaway role turns into a surprisingly effective performance in the hands of this under-appreciated actor. Those eerie, transparent blue eyes are used to surprisingly powerful effect in his character's climactic scene, and it succeeds more than the Cobb/Mal relationship.
• Kavyan Novak, Four Lions: For most of the movie, he's a bumbling doofus with spectacular comic timing. And then in the last 20 minutes, as the film goes a few shades darker, he hints at a character much more complex than the idiot who previously fires a rocket launcher backwards. His reactions when he holds a restaurant hostage are fascinating and tense, and somehow still funny.
• Miles Teller, Rabbit Hole: An actor with virtually no experience, he could have easily been steamrollered by Nicole Kidman in their scenes together. Instead, he brings a calm and intriguing demeanor, and the two play off of each other beautifully. The scene when he tells Becca that he "might have been driving 32 miles per hour" is one of the most beautifully subtle acting moments of the year.
• Filippo Timi, Vincere: Makes his dual roles work marvelously with limited screen time. He takes what little he's given and turns in performances of striking intensity.

Best Supporting Actress:

• Rebecca Hall, Red Riding 1974: She doesn't have much screen time to work with, but she makes the most of it. A very quiet performance, but also an effective one.
• Barbara Hershey, Black Swan:
  An eerily oppressive "smother mother"...at least, that's how Nina sees her, and that's how good Hershey is at helping fulfill the film's orientation in Nina's head. Two words: cake scene.
• Amy Adams and Melissa Leo, The Fighter: An "MTV girl" and a tough mother, both exceptionally played.

Best Cinematography:

• Rob Hardy, Red Riding 1974: In addition to beautifully playing with light, he takes boring 1970s architecture and makes it quietly captivating to look at.

Best Score (Original or otherwise):

• Daft Punk, TRON: Legacy: Perfectly suits the crisp, glowing world; a perfect match of story and composer(s).
• John Powell, How to Train Your Dragon: Soaring, charming, and epic themes seamlessly interwoven. His work adds an extra oomph to the already exhilarating flight sequences.
• Alexandre Desplat, The King's Speech: One of cinema's best working composers, his work here is delicate and charming, capturing the mood of the scenes, but still leaving room for the actors to do the heavy lifting.

Bidding 2010 Goodbye Pt. II: Worst of the Year

This time of the year/new year is all about honoring the best of the year. However, today's post is dedicated to the opposite: recognizing the worst of the year. And even though 2010 has provided us with some very high highs, it's also given us some abysmal lows.

The Worst of 2010

Worst attempt at being Russell Crowe: Sam Worthington - Clash of the Titans

If there's one thing that Gladiator taught us 10 years ago that remains true, it's that Russell Crowe can glower and brood like a real pro, and his performance as Maximus made brooding cool again. As such, any number of other actors have tried to do this in similarly themed films, and none failed as spectacularly as Sam Worthington in the limp remake of Clash of the Titans. In one early scene in which he's supposed to sit and brood over the loss of his family, Worthington's attempt at angry stoicism falls flat; he never once projects an ounce of intensity or bottled rage to the point where it feels like he wasn't even trying. Oh well, he'll always have Avatar, right?

Worst Directing Team: Ridley and Tony Scott - Robin Hood and Unstoppable

Brothers Ridley and Tony Scott certainly have different styles. Ridley is more keen on epic period pieces (with stunning production values), while Tony leans more towards smaller scale, modern, more thriller-esque action films. In 2010 both brothers released films, and both of them were, well, less than stellar. Ridley's Robin Hood was a bore, and its actions scenes didn't exactly live up to previous work like Gladiator or Kingdom of Heaven. Meanwhile, Tony's runaway train thriller Unstoppable (more on this one in a minute) was just irritatingly dumb. When the film focused on leads Denzel Washington and Chris Pine, it actually worked, but it kept jumping back to the behind-the-scenes nonsense. Scott's point, like the worst of Michael Bay, seemed to be that all high-level officials (at least in the state of Pennsylvania) are incompetent morons, and that only the "common man" is capable of solving problems. Worst of all, Scott throws in a hilariously unnecessary car crash at the dumbest possible point. The result is that the Scott family batting average for 2010 was a big fat zero.

Worst Film to Rake in the Millions: Alice in Wonderland

I really do like Tim Burton, I swear. His 2007 effort, Sweeney Todd, was one of his best. It showed him focused on story-telling like never before, and the result was electrifying. That's just one reason why Burton's follow-up was such a big disappointment. In addition to making the role of Alice borderline passive, the script was either dragging scenes out into tedium, or rushing them together to distracting effect. The result was only sporadically entertaining (thank you, Helena Bonham Carter and Stephen Fry) and more garish than lush.

Worst Twist(s): The Tourist

Oh looooooord. Where do I even start? From the unexpected-yet-dull revelation of Elise's (Jolie) actual profession, to the "mystery" of whether Frank (Depp) is really who he says he is, this attempt at a Charade-style old Hollywood mystery never really surprised anyone save for how uninspired it was in every department. But worst of all, and by a considerable margin, was the revelation of Rufus Sewell's almost mute character known only as The Englishman. Not only was it lazy and stupid, but completely insulting to the audience. If I had any doubts that The Tourist was a complete waste of time (not money, since I saw it for free, thankfully), Sewell's final scene destroyed those doubts.

Worst Pop Culture Phenomenon: The Millennium Trilogy

Whatever minimal strengths were found in Stieg Larrson's crime trilogy all but evaporated in the Swedish cinematic adaptations. The first, The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo, started off fine enough. The first hour was sluggish, but it picked up in the second half as it actually got to the story it was telling. And then the second film, The Girl Who Played with Fire, hit theaters. Despite getting off to a decent start, it quickly plummeted, and made all of the wrong decisions in deciding what to keep in the story. It also boasts the trilogy's worst performance, from its leading man no less. In addition to taking blandness to new lows, Michael Nyqvist also created the worst scene of the year, by doing a hilariously unconvincing ducking maneuver that was downright amateurish. Things picked up marginally in The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, but not nearly enough for any sort of real redemption. As books, Larrson's trilogy was "meh" enough, but with the adaptations, they sunk to new lows, proving again and again that Lisbeth Salander, Larrson's intriguing punk/goth hacker, is a heroine who deserves to star in a better series.

Least Deserving of Critical Praise: Unstoppable

86%. That's the percentage of positive reviews Unstoppable received per RottenTomatoes, and it actually jumps to 91% if you're only looking at top critics. My question is simple: why? Obviously a film doesn't have to be best-of-the-year quality to earn good reviews; that's ridiculous. But why on earth did this middling, often stupid real-life thriller earn as many kind reviews as it did? From the obnoxious stupidity of most of the characters, to the year's most unnecessary car crash, there's very little in this mess that works or deserves an ounce of praise. And for the love of god, Tony Scott, will you please hire a cinematographer who doesn't feel the need to shade everything in grimy greens and browns?

Worst Comedy: The Other Guys

To be fair, I think Will Ferrell can be a funny guy. 2004's Anchorman still makes me laugh out loud, and Talladega Nights is worth a few solid laughs. With that out of the way, I fail to see what exactly made The Other Guys a critical comeback for Ferrell. Was it the half deserved laughs that it earned? The absolute lack of flow of the scenes? The total misuse of Michael Keaton? Mark Wahlberg struggling to nail a character who's supposed to be the straight man with a few hidden quirks? The god-awful sound design that left many scenes flooded with dead air? The pathetic attempt to work in financial corruption into the story that just became boring as hell? Or was it the (admittedly surprising) credits sequence filled with facts about the disparity of wages between CEOs and standard employees, that served only as a shameless attempt to justify the existence of this piss poor, leaden comedy?

Worst Adapted Screenplay: The Last Airbender

I'm not ashamed to admit it: I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender for the past few days, and I'm currently at the start of the third and final season. And you know what? Despite being created for Nickelodeon, it's a surprisingly adult show that never goes out of its way to appeal strictly to kids. Which is what makes it such a shame that M. Night Shyamalan had to go and put a black mark on the face of this well done series. In attempting to condense the 20-episode first season in 90 minutes, Shymalan rushes story elements to either boring of laughable effect. But worst of all, he robs the series lead hero, Aang, of the traits that make him seem like a kid. The Aang of the series, despite being a hero of prophecy, still acts like he's a real kid, but in Noah Ringer, Shyamalan writes and directs the character as someone stoic and solemn, more like a robot than someone with a heart.

Worst Original Screenplay: How Do You Know

The missing question mark in the title is the least of the problems of James L. Brooks' latest misfire. I don't have anything against romantic comedies as a genre, even if they tend to lean heavily towards formula. That said, when they're bad, they can be painful, and How Do You Know is that sort of rom-com. The dialogue is scene-y, the characters more grating than charming, and in its nearly 2 hour run time, barely a laugh is earned. But the script's biggest offense is Lisa (played by Reese Witherspoon), who goes down as the year's worst female character. Like the film itself, she doesn't know what she wants, and her need to speak in overly expository canned analytical/motivational phrases is never charming; it's unbearable right from the get go. Paul Rudd manages to wring out a few chuckles because, well, he's Paul Rudd, but he's not nearly enough to make up for the amount of crap in this unfocused, overlong script.

Worst Debut Performance: Noah Ringer - The Last Airbender

Perhaps it's not entirely his fault, but Noah Ringer's Hollywood career didn't get off to the best start thanks to his overly serious, wooden debut as the hero of M. Night Shyamalan's The Last Airbender. The fault probably lies more with Shyamalan for butchering the character, but that doesn't make Ringer's performance any less rotten.

Worst Acting Duo: Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp - The Tourist

Proof that you can't just throw two superstars together and expect magic, The Tourist's pairing of Jolie and Depp resulted in a gaping black hole of chemistry. When Elise and Frank first meet on a train, there's tiny little sparks that go off, but once the pair arrive in Venice, everything goes downhill, and fast. Depp mostly seems bored with his role, while Jolie merely walks around looking glamorous and mysterious. The absolute lack of chemistry between the film's leads is just one of the reasons that the film failed as spectacularly as it did.

Worst Performer of the Year: Johnny Depp - The Tourist & Alice in Wonderland

After scoring his third Oscar nomination for Sweeney Todd and playing John Dillenger in the decently received Public Enemies, Depp landed in theaters twice in 2010, and neither performance worked (ironically, he's nominated for Golden Globes for both). In Alice in Wonderland, his take on the Mad Hatter was weird, but that's it. It wasn't entertaining or fun like Capt. Jack Sparrow, it was just odd, especially Depp's choice to have the Hatter switch to gruff Scottish brogue whenever he was angry. But at least in that film it looked like he was putting some effort in, which is more than can be said for his lazy work in The Tourist. As I've said before, he starts off the film decently, but after Frank and Elise get off of that train, his performance, along with the rest of the film, nosedives.

Worst Actress: Reese Witherspoon - How Do You Know

Witherspoon, with lots of help from James L. Brooks, helped redefine the term "unbearable" as Lisa, the female protagonist who can't decide whether she wants to be with nice guy George (Paul Rudd) or vain sports star Matty (Owen Wilson). Indecisive, obnoxious, and prone to speaking in canned motivational phrases, Witherspoon's considerable charms as an actress evaporated, leaving the actress with a tedious and shrill character, and one of the worst performances in her career.

Worst Actor: Michael Nyqvist - The Girl Who Played with Fire

I really hate revisiting this performance. I mean it. I hate it. Hate it. Hate. It. The character is already a transparent author-insert in the books, but Nyqvist makes him absolutely worthless in the middle installment of the trilogy. He drags the character to new levels of blandness, making the womanizing angle of the character more than a little unbelievable (no wonder Lena Endre always looked so confused; "I'm supposed to be attracted to this guy!?"). In one of his most bizarre scenes, he's seen walking up to the area where a distressed (and bloody) Lisbeth (Noomi Rapace) is lying, and despite knowing that he's heading into danger, looks like he's out for a casual stroll in the park. And even though I've brought it up already in this post, I'll say it again: the ducking scene. More lame than a race horse with only three legs.

Biggest Disappointment: I am Love

I've said enough about Luca Guadagnino's lush romantic drama for the year, so allow me to briefly recap what held this film back. It really comes down to one thing: thin characters. Emma's (Tilda Swinton) feeling of oppression is never felt; we're supposed to infer it from vague details thrown out in little academic bites. Additionally, the central affair makes no sense, because there's no reason why Antonio's food should cause Emma to fall for him. It doesn't remind her of her homeland (Russia), it's just great food, but since she's wealthy and lives in Italy, great food shouldn't be in short supply. Then there's the STYLE of the damn thing, which suffocates potentially great performances by Swinton and Flavio Parenti (as her eldest son). And I'm going to ask this one more time: aside from the obviousness of her face work, what was so special about Marissa Berenson? It has its moments, but at the end of the day there's simply one too many aspects that are either poorly executed or don't add up that turn this potentially great film into a frustrating one.

Worst Film of the Year: How Do You Know

I'm not wasting any more time on this total failure. It's grating, it's unbearable, and it's too damn long. That's all you need to know. STAY. AWAY.

PS: What on earth is that face Witherspoon is making at Paul Rudd in this picture?

Bidding 2010 Goodbye - Part I: Favorite Scenes

While this series of posts will continue for a least a few days into the new year, I figured I'd like to close out 2010 at Not All Texans Ride Horses to School on a positive note. As I've stated before, there are still a solid handful of films left that I want to see, but I think 56 films is more than enough to make a list of

10 Favorite Scenes of the Year

Fair warning: There be spoilers ahead...

Honorable Mentions:

Car Argument - Date Night: While by no means special or memorable, Date Night did have one thing going for it: Steve Carrell and Tina Fey's chemistry as Phil and Claire Foster. The scene in question comes roughly in the middle of the couple's increasingly insane night out in New York. Phil and Claire verbally attack each other's imperfections, and in a surprising moment, the screenplay (for once) actually shines just a bit. The result is surprisingly affecting, and in a movie that was meant to be a comedy, it's this serious moment that stands head and shoulders above the rest of the film.

Ending - True Grit: There are many great moments of cinematography in the Coen brothers' western, but none is as quietly beautiful as the last shot, in which a grown Mattie Ross walks away from Rooster Cogburn's tombstone. It's a quiet coda to a film filled with so much loud bantering among its three principal characters, and it works perfectly as a send off both to the characters and to the film itself.

10. The Race - Four Lions: Chris Morris' Jihadist satire reaches its comic highs, and surprisingly emotional depths in the last 20 minutes, chronicling the titular "lions" as they attempt to set off bombs while disguised as costumed runners in the London Marathon. In addition to the hysterical argument that ensues when a police sniper clips the wrong target, the final scene carries a surprising mix of poetry, biting satire, and emotional heft.

09. Hallway Fight - Inception:

It was the defining action sequence of the year, and deservedly so. In actually building a rotating set rather than relying on heavy CGI work, the gravity-defying fistfight was easily the highlight of Christopher Nolan's trek into the work of dreams. There's an almost nervous energy that I get from this scene that comes from the fact that we can tell that it's real, and the effect is dizzying.

08. The Speech - The King's Speech:

In my review of The King's Speech, I mentioned how the lack of sugarcoating was one of the film's greatest strengths. When George VI delivers his first speech, he doesn't do so perfectly (by normal standards). The moment isn't accompanied by loud, charging, triumphant music. Rather, by playing the second movement of Beethoven's 7th Symphony, a piece that builds veeeeery gradually, the scene still feels triumphant, but feels appropriate. The result is beautiful, and one of the most inspiring scenes of the year.

07. Making FaceMash - The Social Network:

One of the scenes that combined everything I loved about David Fincher's Facebook tale comes early on, when a just-dumped Mark (Jesse Eisenberg) simultaneously builds a website where users rate the attractiveness of students and blogs about his breakup. The sharp writing, lightning fast line delivery, and pulsating score combine masterfully and turn a scene of a geek drinking beer and writing code into one of the most thrilling sequences of the year.

06. The Tale of the Three Brothers - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 1: In a film filled with magical battles and fantastical creatures, the shining moment of David Yates' latest crack at the Potter franchise was the telling of the Three Brothers and the origin of the titular Deathly Hallows. Rendered in strangely beautiful animation (was it some blend of CGI and cell animation???) and filled with little stylistic flourishes (the flash of blood when the first brother is murdered is stunning), the sequence could stand by itself as a short film. The film itself was already daring enough by giving so much screen time to the traveling portion of the story, but this sequence showed that even big-budget, money-grubbing blockbusters can still have truly inspired moments of artistry.

05. A Swan is Born - Black Swan:

As Darren Aronofsky's ballet thriller launches into its increasingly fantastical finale, it becomes more and more fascinating to watch. And no scene in the is-it-real-or-imagined? side of the store was more stunning than when Nina, dancing as the seductive Black Swan, charges out on stage and does a series of twirls as her arms transform into wings. That the effect is so seamless (especially considering the budget) only enhances the spell cast by Aronofsky's vision, and the shot following the transformation is equally brilliant, topped off by Portman's pitch perfect look of sinister triumph.

04. Henley Regatta - The Social Network:

It comes almost out of nowhere, but like the rest of the film, it's brilliantly composed and executed, even if there aren't any words spoken. The scene, which focuses on Zuckerberg's rivals, the Winklevoss twins (aka: The Winklevii), provides a nice break from all of the hyper articulate tech babble and caustic zingers, and simply lets the images work their magic. With brilliant use of limited focus to mask the lack of on-location shooting, and an energetic electronic interpretation of "In the Hall of the Mountain King," the scenes edits rise with the music, and the result is electrifying.

03. Prey Becomes Predator - Animal Kingdom: One of the key strengths of David Michod's crime drama is that violence is used in such small proportions and so effectively, that most scenes involving gunshots send a jolt through your body. This is particularly true of the ending, when 'J' Cody, an orphan who must decide where his loyalties lie when it comes to his gangster family, kills head criminal Andrew 'Pope' Cody. I know I nearly jumped out of my seat, and from the sounds I heard after that lone gunshot, I wasn't alone. Like J's grandmother Janine, the audience was appropriately left stunned and speechless. The final shot of Janine's hands hanging limp in defeat as J pulls her in for a hug is one of the most chilling images of the year.

02. Becca's Release - Rabbit Hole:

Though it deals with the aftermath of losing a child, John Cameron Mitchell's film of David Lindsey-Abaire's play keeps the weepy scenes to a minimum. And when things get high strung, the cast pulls it off beautifully. But the emotional high point comes when Becca drives to visit Jason, the teen responsible for the death of her son, and sees him going out to prom. As she watches, she flashes back to the day of the accident, and after trying to weather the storm of her grief for so long, finally allows herself to release her sadness, rather than continue to hold it in. From the moment she catches a glimpse of Jason, and her composure starts to break, Kidman fully owns the moment, and the scene acts as the perfect place for both her and the audience to let the emotion flow freely. A beautifully handled and acted scene that is far and away the most moving moment of the year.

01. Swan Lake Finale/Nina's Madness - Black Swan:

While entry #5 is technically part of this, my pick for #1 covers much more ground. Along with the rapturous depiction of the ballet as captured by Matthew Libatique's swooping handheld cinematography, the behind-the-scenes madness also reaches its high point. And as the gorgeous music blasts from the speakers and the roller coaster finally reaches its end, Aronofsky's film concludes on a moment of twisted poetry, with the final line of dialogue perfectly capturing the essence of Nina Sayers, the woman whose head Aronofsky brilliant puts us inside of.

What I watched this week: July 5-11

Repulsion (1965) dir. Roman Polanski:

Polanski's first English-language film may not be the director's shining moment as far as dialogue goes, but the second half of the film demonstrates brilliantly that fear is universal. Catherine Deneuve stars as a young woman left to watch her sister's apartment while she and her boyfriend go on a vacation. While on her own, she experiences increasingly disturbing dreams that take an increasingly dark turn. After a sluggish, even tedious first half or so (did the calm before the storm need to be that long?), the film really takes off as Carole's mental state begins to deteriorate. The slightly jazzy score, often clashing with the images on screen, never outstays its welcome, always cutting off right when it starts to feel overdone. Deneuve, in a role that is silent for large stretches, turns in dazzling work, emoting almost purely through her eyes as a woman quite past the verge of a nervous breakdown. Enhanced by great in-camera effects (walls are used to fantastic effect), subtle but effective art direction, and excellent cinematography. While Polanski's film could easily be dissected in trying to figure out what makes Carole snap (I'm sure more than a few writers have used her virginity as a spring board for their theses), it also works strictly as a surface-only thriller: watch a young woman's downward spiral into madness. Though it may not be everyone's cup of tea, it's certainly an unsettling film with some images that you'll have a difficult time forgetting.

Grade: B+

The Last Picture Show (1971) dir. Peter Bogdanovich:

Essentially a slightly more character-specific, American predecessor to Fellini's Amarcord, Bogdanovich's film is a sparse, bleak, yet very rewarding film. As we see follow a group of soon-to-be-high-school-graduates in Arnene, Texas as they come of age, Bogdanovich (working off of Larry McMurtry's adaptation of his own novel) crafts a methodically paced, understated film that builds. It it the epitome of what "quietly moving" cinema should aspire to; it has enough to make you feel, but never indulges in any jarring moments of blatant heart string-tugging. Performance-wise, there's not a weak link in the group, although I do slightly question Ellen Burstyn's Best Supporting Actress nomination. The same cannot be said for her co-star, Cloris Leachman, who picked up a well-deserved Oscar for her performance as a conflicted, adulterous house-wife. Just when the film leads you to believe that it's done with her, the end brings Leachman back to powerful effect. Fellow winner Ben Johnson also turns in nice, understated work as the father of a somewhat mentally deficient boy. His monologue when he takes his son and Sonny (Timothy Bottoms) to a nearby like is a thing of magnificent, quiet beauty, much like the film around him.

Grade: A/A-

The Red Balloon (1956) dir. Albert Lamorisse:

A small exercise in charm, Lamorisse's Oscar-winning film (which clocks in at only 34 minutes), is a winning example of how to use less to create more. The plot is simple: a balloon with a life of its own follows a young boy as he walks around Paris. And thankfully, that's all the film really does with the premise. You could speculate all you wanted to about deeper meaning, but the film seems to work best as an innocent (but not naive) fairy tale with a magnificent ending.

Grade: B

I'm calling it now: Next year's Best Picture winner

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