By Rebecca Taylor
If you are like me, after a long day at work or school, you like to kick back and relax. Often, just sitting in front of the television or putting on your favourite movie does the trick. But after a really awful day, my all-time favourite mode of de-stressing is grabbing an ice cold beer and reading a book.
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by Sarah Fisher
“You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” These words define the heart and soul of The Help. This isn’t just another book-turned-movie; this isn’t another costume drama in hopes of Oscar glory. This is about truth and bravery in a time where it was nowhere to be found.
The story is set in Jackson, Mississippi, in the early 1960s—a volatile time in United States history, with the country on the cusp of widespread change. It is our narrators who show us the frontlines of this conflict and the way it was in the American South for race relations, segregation, Jim Crow laws, and racism. Through the eyes of three very different and distinct women, the book and the film grab and hold you in their battle for equality.
Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis) and Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer), two black maids, join forces with Skeeter, a young white, prominent woman in society, to complete one of the most dangerous things anyone could do in Jackson: write the truth about their lives. The talent of Emma Stone as the awkward, forward-thinking Skeeter sets the tone for the film. A recent university graduate and aspiring editor, Skeeter does not agree with the intolerance and racism in the South. The tricky part is that she is going against her own friends and even her own family.
But it is the stories of Aibileen and Minny that bring the narrative to life. Davis brings Aibileen to the forefront of the story, supplying a depth and heart to the character that would be difficult to translate from the novel to the screen, especially in the final few moments of the film. She deserves her Best Actress nomination.
Spencer, who is nominated for Best Supporting Actress, wins us over from the start as the incorrigible Minny who constantly steals the show. It is her banter with Celia Foote (Best Supporting Actress nominee Jessica Chastain) that shows us the depth of Minny’s character: a no-nonsense, hot-headed woman who cares deeply about the people who gain her trust. It is also the fodder of some of the most funny and endearing moments of the film. From her witty back talk to her employers, to the “Terrible Awful,” (we won’t give away the reference, but see photo for a clue!) Spencer deftly brings this spitfire of a character to life.
Through their struggles and hardships we are given an unhindered view of what it was like to be black, white, racist (and not) in the heart of segregated Mississippi, and just how hard it was to be different from the accepted norm. This is most notably seen in the character of Hilly Holbrook (played by the inimitable Bryce Dallas Howard) who single-handedly makes life a constant struggle for anyone who doesn’t bend to her whim, leading to some horrid and hilarious situations. “What Hilly wants, Hilly gets,” is the standard in Jackson, and when Skeeter strays from this idea, Hilly’s manipulation, vindictiveness, and want to destroy anyone who disobeys is fully revealed. Howard plays not just the villain of the film, but a loathsome human being and the most fun and infuriating to watch. It’s a shame that Howard was not given an Oscar nod for this fine performance.
This film is a comedy, a drama, and a historical piece all in one. It is about intolerance, acceptance, and love without borders. It is about being true to yourself despite the obstacles and hostility from friends, neighbours, and society as a whole, all the while making you think, laugh, and cry throughout. It’s a celebration of individualism and the great things people can accomplish when they put aside all of their differences and see each other for who we are: people. We are all just people.
by Cassie MacKenzie
For a few years, Brad Pitt has had so many labels—from sexiest man alive to heartbreaker to superdad—that it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, an actor. Brad chose 2011 to remind us of his abilities, putting two incredibly diverse performances on the table. With Moneyball and The Tree of Life, each grabbing a nomination for Best Picture, Brad has appeared in just over 20% of the year’s best films (granted you agree with the Academy). Here’s my rundown of the two films and what they have to offer moviegoers.
I hated this movie. There, I said it, although it’s not as blasphemous a statement now as it was when the movie first came out and everyone was busy praising director Terrence Malick’s “vision” and “artistry.” The movie “follows the life journey of the eldest son, Jack (played as an adult by Sean Penn), through the innocence of childhood to his disillusioned adult years as he tries to reconcile a complicated relationship with his father (Brad Pitt).” At least, this is what the movie does according to Fox Searchlight. I, on the other hand, watched in increasing frustration as a parade of nonsensical (although very beautiful) imagery was paraded before me on screen with little or no link between scenes and a plotline so non-linear that the movie actually dips back into prehistoric times.
Despite its pretentiousness, the film is somewhat redeemed by its strong performances. Brad easily takes on the role of a harsh, unforgiving father, and Jessica Chastain presents the meek wife/bold mother duality with subtlety and grace.
More art piece than film, see this movie if you’re comfortable sitting back and letting the imagery wash over you, moving from moment to moment. Avoid it, if, like me, you like your movies to follow a more linear plotline.
I loved this movie. If you’re tempted to stay away from the film because it’s a “baseball movie,” I encourage you to ditch these preconceptions: as Sony Pictures puts it, “Moneyball is a movie for anybody who has ever dreamed of taking on the system.” Frustrated by the constant loss of his best players to teams with seemingly endless cash flow, Oakland A’s GM Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) takes his tiny budget as far as it can go and reinvents his team based purely on statistics. Brad makes this unlikely subject interesting by bringing Beane to life onscreen with swaggering (but not overdone) confidence. I wouldn’t immediately consider Brad for the role of corporate underdog, but shame on me for doubting his versatility: he excels in this film, definitely earning the nod for Best Actor.
Avoid this movie if any mention of sports turns you off entirely, but otherwise I think Moneyball has it all: great performances (though Jonah Hill’s nomination seems over the top), a classic underdog storyline, and an accessible look into the surprisingly fascinating world of corporate sports. And for the ladies…Brad Pitt workout scenes! Hello!
by Sarah Francis
I’m always cautious of movie adaptations of my favourite books. With Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close I was particularly wary because Jonathan Safran Foer is not only one of my favourite authors, but he has a unique writing style that isn’t suited to being faithfully translated to the big screen. Despite my reservations concerning the film adaptation of Foer’s 2005 novel of the same name, it speaks for itself and succeeds in delivering the characters and story in the quirky and heart-warming manner that Foer intended, though it doesn’t capture the entire essence of the book.
Set in New York City in 2001, the story focuses on Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn), a nine-year-old boy, wise beyond his years and whose best friend in the world is his father, Thomas (Tom Hanks). When Oskar loses his father in the World Trade Centre attacks, he clings to the last earthly connection they share—a key found in his father’s closet. Oskar is certain his father meant for him to find the lock that the key will open and begins an adventure that takes him across New York City on his search for the truth.
While Hanks and Sandra Bullock (as Oskar’s mother) are the obvious selling points of the film, the standout performance belongs to first-time actor, thirteen-year-old Horn. The story is carried forward by Horn’s portrayal of an emotional and passionate Oskar, dealing with the loss of his father and maintaining hope that there is some meaning to be found in the key.
Another major highlight of the movie is Oskar’s relationship with the mysterious Renter (Max von Sydow, nominated this year for Best Supporting Actor in this role), who rents a room in Oskar’s grandmother’s apartment. He soon finds himself to be Oskar’s partner on the search for the meaning of the mysterious key. Together, these characters provide some of the most touching and comical moments of the film.
While I would still recommend reading the book to experience Safran Foer’s unique storytelling, the film is a satisfying adaptation of a simultaneously heartbreaking and heart-warming tale. Bring tissues with you to the theatre or wait until it hits Netflix if crying in public isn’t your thing.
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close has been nominated for two Academy Awards.
by Nikita Shah
Watching The Artist really opened my eyes to the actual art of film—how different ideas can be reflected in not just the story that is told but how it is told. I found when the movie began, my mind was resisting the change from “talkies” to a silent film, much like the resistance George Valentin (played by Jean Dujardin) felt towards the Hollywood move in the opposite direction in the late 1920s. The film, whose plot revolves around the transition from silent pictures into talkies, puts the audience in a similar position of treading in unfamiliar waters. Each person watching The Artist decides whether or not they will care to adapt to this change. Some are able to ride the cinematic wave while others stand firm that a film should include speaking (and perhaps ask the theatre for their money back). Herein lays the dilemma of The Artist.
The film did require an adjustment in understanding the story since it is being portrayed only by movement and facial expression with intermittent words on screen. Despite being thrown back in time to watch a film unlike any I’ve seen before, this movie was thoroughly enjoyable. The switch in era was so spot on. I could have sworn I was watching an actual film from 1927. Having been unfamiliar with the majority of the cast, John Goodman was the only anachronistic giveaway that the film was indeed modern.
The acting was flawless, including the dog that absolutely deserves that Golden Globe. Bérénice Bejo was incredibly charming as the up-and-coming actress Peppy Miller—particularly during the dressing room jacket scene. And, of course, Jean Dujardin lives up to all of the acclaim he is receiving over the role. The film painted an honest picture of the film industry during one of its most iconic and drastic revolutions, showing how those who went along with the change would prosper and those who did not would wither.
Of all the movies up for Best Picture this year, The Artist has raked in the most warm-up prizes and falls behind only Hugo for the most nominations (10 to Hugo’s 11). The last and only time a silent film has won the top prize was Wings in 1927, the year in which The Artist’s story takes off. What this film lacks in colour, voice, and modern special effects, it more than makes up for with art and heart.
by Katy Littlejohn
As a Theatre student, I have tried to make it my mission to value a stage production over a film adaptation. Of course, it’s one of those rules that can be broken—for example,the movie Dirty Dancing is far more superior to its stage show replica that was in town a few years ago. But when I heard that Steven Spielberg was directing the movie version of War Horse, and that it would be in cinemas at the same time that Mirvish was bringing the highly anticipated stage production to Toronto, I just knew I could not see the film.
Here’s why: I’ve mentioned that I am a Theatre student. The truth is, I was a Drama major in university—this is the sort of degree that diehards claim will make them a student for life. I guess I’m a pseudo diehard because, though I’m no longer reading scripts, sewing costumes, or lighting stages all day, I do feel it’s my duty to uphold the sanctity of the theatre, and view Hollywood as the stage’s equivalent of Mordor.
Unfortunately, my student loan budget refuses me the luxury of actually seeing many productions, which includes War Horse. I would love to though—the horses alone (life-sized puppets operated on stage) are supposed to be spectacular presences in the production, and the story is supposed to break your heart (I’m a sucker for anything that promises me that I’ll be weeping by the curtain call). I would encourage anyone who’s not living off OSAP to try to see the show. You can find all the information you need here. .
But back to the film; this is, after all, Oscars Week here at OtD online. Despite my protestations and refusal to see the film until I could gather enough pennies for a theatre ticket first, the Academy has gone ahead and nominated it for Best Picture along with five other movies. So maybe there is some merit to the movie or maybe it just has a “Spielberg” attached to its name. There’s only one way to find out…I’m off to see War Horse—please don’t tell my professors!
Okay, it was beautifully filmed and stayed true to the heart of the story, originally told in the novel by Michael Morpurgo. Maybe some stories can be told in three different mediums without losing their soul. The horse, Joey, is first loved by Alby (Jeremy Irvine), a young farmer’s son who teaches the “fancy” thoroughbred to plow in order to save his family’s farm. The hard work and love that the master puts into Joey ends up paying off in many ways as Joey is shipped off to the front lines of WWI without Alby. The adventure continues, but I won’t spoil anything. All I will say is that the heart of this story is how the respect a master shows his horse results in a beautiful partnership.
This is a lesson I wish we’d all take to heart—no, not with horses, but with each other. Respect and a willingness to work hard for one another; whether we are the master or the horse, every person has the potential to use their position and strengths to better the world.
by Cassie MacKenzie
Like five other movies nominated in the Best Picture category, The Descendants is based on a book—and a wonderful book to boot. I hadn’t heard of the novel before the movie came out, so I read it with Clooney quite clearly in mind: I had the movie cover edition, and after all, it’s never a bad thing to picture Clooney in a casual Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Mmmhm.
The book by Kaui Hart Hemmings is lovely. The story follows the journey of Matt King, a once indifferent husband and father of two girls who is forced to re-examine these roles when his wife falls into a coma after a boating accident.It is both funny and poignant, and alternates perfectly from grief to acceptance to anger and back again. Set in Hawaii, it’s a novel that doesn’t beg to be taken seriously, and therefore can be. Hemmings’characters are not polarized or stereotyped: they are real people, with real reactions to the situations they’re placed in. And after Matt finds out that his wife had been cheating on him, these situations get pretty strange.
I can’t think of a better director to take on a project like this than Alexander Payne: with About Schmidt and Sideways, Payne established himself as the master of what New Yorker movie critic Anthony Lane calls “the beached male.” He continues his exploration of this character with George Clooney as Matt King. I was right to keep him in mind when reading: Clooney is mesmerizing as the self-proclaimed “backup candidate” for parenthood, the “understudy” for the star, his now-comatose wife. Shailene Woodley acts beyond her years as Matt’s eldest daughter Alexandra, as does Amara Miller as the youngest.
The loss of internal narrative always makes the transition from book to movie difficult, and this is no exception. Unlike the novel, the movie virtually villainizes Matt’s wife and paints a far more negative picture of his relationship with her. The novel allows for a much more nuanced version of this story, and this is Hemmings’s most impressive literary feat: she brings to life a character that is comatose for the entire novel. Payne chooses not to do this, and I think this is the major flaw of the film; it makes Matt’s grief a little less complex (if she was such a witch and he was so unhappy, why such a tearful goodbye?), though it makes Alexandra’s anger much more accessible.
If I had to pick a winner in the book versus movie battle, I’d choose the novel. Both, however, are strong contenders, and The Descendants certainly deserves its five nominations.
