Oscars 2006: Best Actress

Here it is, the last of my posts on the Oscars' acting categories, and it's my favourite... Best Actress. After this, I'll be returning to my usual eclectic array of posts, which I'm sure you'll all enjoy.

Oscars 2006: Best Actress

5. Kate Winslet as 'Sarah Pierce', Little Children
I've yet to see The Holiday, but, after my frenzy of excitement at having four Kate Winslet movies in the space of three months, I was incredibly disappointed to see that all of them are distressingly worthless. Believe me, I'm just as distressed to see my favourite modern actress all the way at the bottom here. Her turn as alienated housewife Sarah Pierce is far better than her choppy role in All the King's Men, and there's not much wrong with it at all to be honest- it's merely proficient work, demonstrating Winslet's professional and committed work ethic, but the role itself is what's limiting here- like the others, Sarah is essentially destroyed in the awful climax, and there is literally nothing Winslet could have done to prevent it. Only a scene in a book group meeting gives Winslet the chance to shine as bright as she has done before.
Likelihood of win: 2%

4. Meryl Streep as 'Miranda Priestly', The Devil Wears Prada
Streep is on glacial form here, as cold as an Antarctic night, yet bitterly funny too, yet it's hardly one of her best performances. Of course, with Streep there's always an extremely tough curve to grade on, given her multitudinous superb performances, and Miranda Priestly just isn't one of her best roles. I'd happily sit through this film again, and again, if just for superb Emily Blunt, but many of Streep's caustic readings are hilarious too- and it is nice to see a bit of true comedy amongst this otherwise rather serious line-up (Cruz excepted).
Likelihood of win: 2%

3. Helen Mirren as 'Queen Elizabeth II', The Queen
I think, being a Brit, the experience of watching The Queen was rather different for me than the rest of the world, given that this is my monarch in my country presiding over me. The day- or rather, the morning after Diana died is one of my most distinct memories from an otherwise hazy time- I remember waking early on that August morning, turning on the tv and seeing my morning programmes interrupted by the news. Even at the age of nine, I was shocked and saddened. So The Queen, for me, was a fascinating look behind the scenes of a landmark memory, the political scene behind my childhood. And Mirren is, indeed, superb, and I have no qualms with her inevitable Oscar win- I just wasn't blown away by this work, as I was by numbers 1 and 2.
Likelihood of win: 90%

2. Judi Dench as 'Barbara Covett', Notes on a Scandal
I only saw Notes last week, and I think a performance as complex as Dench's needs some time to settle into my head, and so take this placement with a pinch of salt. Dench applies so much to what could have easily been a slim, villainized role- Patrick Marber's script paints with an exceedingly thin brush, and Dench, unlike co-star Cate Blanchett, totally eschews what Marber has given her to create a full, multi-layered character. Barbara does misguided, even cruel things, yet Dench recognises the deep loneliness and pain behind these actions, and every moment is driven by this. She realizes that Barbara is not really attracted to Sheba, but is so lonely she convinces herself of it. Every moment of this performance is filled with rich detail- the judgmental looks at her co-workers, the fiddling with her handbag strap, the movement of her pen. This is the best Dench has been in years.
Likelihood of win: 5%

1. Penelope Cruz as 'Raimunda', Volver
Penelope Cruz has reigned supreme at the top of this list for several months, until of course I finally saw Dench and started to err. But Cruz's performance is superb- her movie-star wattage finally mixed with her native language, allowing her to shine in both senses of the word. Assisted by push-up bras and posterior-padding, Raimunda is a sexpot, sure, but she's also a mother, and she's not really after men, at least consciously. Of course, the moment in Volver that sticks in most people's minds is the scene where Penelope lipsynchs to the title song, and, indeed, that is the moment of this performance that has haunted me the most- I love that, even though it's evident that she is mouthing, Cruz is utterly devoted to the moment, her mouth moving passionately and tears flooding from her eyes. It's a beautiful, perhaps transcendent moment, and the one that epitomizes this superb, unexpected performance.
Likelihood of win: 1%

Crank, Volver and The Portrait of a Lady

[Crank (Neveldine/Taylor, 2006): I'm sure Crank is being hilariously ironic about all the movies we've seen before that pander to male fantasies of violence and sexuality, and I'm sure that someone with a better humour than me can delight in mocking all those wet-dreams that Crank is simultaneously rolling in the irony of and delighting in. I'm sure that someone with a less easily overwhelmed state-of-mind finds Crank an endlessly exciting thrill-ride; I'm sure that that someone didn't find, contrary to reports, that Crank is actually remarkably slow, timing out at regular intervals and failing to give it's desired impression of a heart that must be kept running on high. I'm sure that someone who loves Speed less than I won't despise the obvious parallels with that truly high-octane thriller- I'm sure that someone will delight in saying that "Oh, but Crank's better than Speed, 'cause this time it's actually a person that has to keep his speed-limit up!". I'm sure that someone that lets things go more easily than I won't question the plausibility of having an English hit-man (Jason Statham) living so successfully in L.A., and with a gorgeous girlfriend (Amy Smart) to boot. I'm sure that someone actually likes Jason Statham, that someone doesn't see him as a symbol of everything that's wrong with this type of movie, that someone finds him charming and actually worth 88 minutes of screentime. I'm sure that someone doesn't question the word "fucking" in every single sentance in this movie, that, oh, it's just how they are, or that someone takes the idea that Crank exists in a heightened reality (a very heightened reality) excuses all the despicable nonsense that the directors force upon us.

But you know what? That someone ain't me. Grade: D+]

[Volver (Pedro Almodovar, 2006): I went straight from the "ironic" horrors of Crank into my real reason for being at the theatre that day, and it was a blissfully different experience. My limited experience of Almodovar stretches to just his last two movies- Talk to Her was an odd experience, but a surprisingly human and delicate study of male fantasies and their relationships with women, while Bad Education, while featuring a stunning performance by a sex-filled Gael Garcia Bernal, was more of a jumbled study of male sexuality. This time, Almodovar turns his attentions to women- indeed, there is only one male character of any note, and his screentime his little and portrayal very basic. But it had no need to be. This character serves only as a plot device, because here, it's all about the women. Penelope Cruz gives a knockout performance as Raimunda, self-sacrificing wife and mother who has seemingly given over her life to her family. I'm sure you know the basic plot outline- Raimunda and Sole's (Lola Duenas) dead mother (Carmen Maura) appears to Sole after their aunt (Chsu Lampreave) dies. What is so wonderful about Volver is how unpredictable it is (and on that note, I'll not spoil it, for the joy is in the discovery). Almost every scene is a perfectly observed look at female relationships and hardships. But what makes Almodovar's writing come to life is the efforts of the cast, who justly won an ensemble award at the Cannes film festival. While Cruz carries the film with a performance of startling depth and strenght, as a woman who appears to carry everyone but is ultimately in need of carrying herself, Maura gives a beautifully judged performance of impish cheek and weary hardship, and Duenas, given a more comic role, does wonders. Yoahana Cobo, as Cruz's daughter, is also a lively foil, sardonically countering her impulsive mother, and Blanca Portillo, as kindly, tired neighbour Agustina, does well with a more dramatic sub-plot. Ultimately, apart from one off-balance 'revelation' scene, Volver emerges as an uplifting, charming but also movingly poignant experience, a superb study of womanhood and the impact of death. See it as soon as you can. Grade: A-]

[The Portrait of a Lady (Jane Campion, 1996): Jane Campion's follow-up to the beloved The Piano came in for a lot of flack (although Nick Davis gives it a superb defense), but I found it a compelling, beautifully made, if occasionally problematic, period film. Campion opens with an unusually offbeat opening- modern-day Australian girls discussing their love of kissing- which serves as a striking way to open the film, presenting you with confident girls of today and then switching to Henry James' actual story for the confident girl of yesteryear. American Isabel Archer (Nicole Kidman) has just recieved a proposal from Lord Warburton (Richard E. Grant), which she refuses on the grounds that she wants to live and see the world before she marries. Her cousin Ralph Touchett (Martin Donovan), secretly in love with her, arranges for her to inherit a large fortune from his ailing father (John Gielgud), so that she can live out her dreams. Isabel travels to Florence, where she meets Gilbert Osmond (John Malkovich), a mysterious and seemingly rather reclusive widowed father to Pansy (Valentina Cervi). Thanks, it seems to the mysterious dealings of Madame Merle (Barbara Hershey), Isabel is persued by Osmond, and, after a year away in Egypt, she finds herself preoccupied with Osmond and agrees to marry him.

This only describes the first half of The Portrait of a Lady, and, indeed, the first half of the film is the more troublesome, for various reasons. Campion's directorial flair occasionally goes to far here, most notably in the short sequence portraying Isabel's travels in Egypt- presenting it as a 1930s-style news-reel, it features such bizarre and unnecessary oddities as talking kidney beans and a naked Kidman in the desert. The other major problem is Kidman- here she feels too often ill-at-ease, not comfortable playing a confident young woman too happy to realise her naiveity. Thankfully, the second half, as we jump three years into Isabel and Osmond's marriage, gives Kidman a more familiar part to her- a more downtrodden and depressed, weary woman who gradually becomes aware of her foolishness. Here, also, Campion's direction is more confident and useful- the shots, the movement is often exquisitely composed, combining to perfection with a deep blue and grey hues of Stuart Dryburgh's cinematography and portraying a disturbing glaciality that has come over everyone on-screen. Of all the performers, it is Hershey who gained the most accolades, and justly so: a delicate cocktail of deep-seated anger and sadness mixed with an outwardly courteous, affected manner.

Mary Ann Johanson criticized the film by saying it "is everything costume dramas always threaten to be"; but, in my eyes, The Portait of a Lady is everything that costume dramas usually aren't: visually daring, moody, and so cold it passes from the dangerous territory of dull into the more arresting territory of freezing transfixing. No, it is not perfect, but it's one of the best costume dramas you're likely to encounter, and once again proves that The Piano was thankfully no fluke for Campion. Grade: B+]