Showing posts with label Hornby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hornby. Show all posts

Monday, February 15, 2016

One Category at a Time: Adapted Screenplay

After a lean couple of years, 2015 saw the race for Best Adapted Screenplay return to high competitive form: Terrific adaptations like Steve Jobs and 45 Years couldn't find room in a field crowded mostly by Best Picture nominees: Critics prizes have been split every which way: And until the PGA pointed to our Best Picture frontrunner, it felt as though any of the five nominees had a legit shot at winning. It's a shame the contest has devolved into such an open-and-shut case.

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Thoughts on Brooklyn

The film is quite lovely. It's not quite so ravishing or melodramatic as to make one swoon, but I kinda like that about it. It's simply a classically told, beautifully made romance filled with sincere, expressive performances. Saoirse Ronan's star turn as a timid immigrant turned savvy woman about town should have no problem finding awards love this season, but here's hoping the treasure that is Julie Walters doesn't go entirely forgotten. She's absolutely dandy as an ornery boardinghouse matron, and leaves a more lasting impression than her relatively little screen time would suggest. This is the sort of role that aught to be recognized in Supporting Actress nominations (not co-leading ladies posing as supporting players to avoid internal competition).

The whole thing -- nicely directed by John Crowley -- flows very gracefully. Nick Hornby has a way of distilling the spirit of his source text and channeling it into succinct, visually astute scenes. After having been passed over for what was last year's finest adapted screenplay, here's hoping the writers branch of the Academy can atone.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Early Oscar Predictions: Adapted Screenplay

I've sounded off on some original screenplay possibilities, so here are my wild guesses at the adaptations:

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

My Award Nominations: Best Adapted Screenplay

No offense to any of the hardworking screenwriters who slaved away adapting some previous work into a movie that came out last year, but this category is just so... desolate. By far the weakest field I've seen since I started writing about this stuff. I looked up more Adapted Screenplay FYC posts on various Oscar blogs than ever before, because the Oscar frontrunners just weren't doing it for me.

I suppose that's a blessing in disguise, though, as it forced me hunt down some true gems that I probably would have missed otherwise. So for what they are, here are my five Best Adapted Screenplay nominees for 2014. Here's hoping 2015 has more to choose from.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Mourning in the American 'Wild' and the Irish 'Sea': Double Feature Review

Late December is often a time of great celebration. No matter what your faith or customs may be, there's always an extra emphasis on enjoying time with our loved ones this season, as we prepare to close the book on one year and eagerly welcome another.

But, inevitably, the closing out of the year also becomes a time of solemn reflection, to remember what we've lost while cherishing what we still have. 2014 somehow feels like a disproportionately painful year for the filmmaking community; The tragic premature deaths of geniuses like Robin Williams and Philip Seymour Hoffman punctuating an already long list of cinema giants who finally left us after significant, fruitful lives.

Perhaps that's why it's been so much on my mind as I've frequented the movies this year. I don't want to be responsible for giving anyone a case of the holiday blues, but it's been impossible for me not to notice a similar thread running through a number of 2014's major releases; A thread about the way people deal with loss, process grief, and ultimately find closure; A thread about how mourning varies from individual to individual, yet is universally human.

A pair of distinctive and radically different films that are currently in limited release, Wild and Song of the Sea, suddenly seem like distant cousins when viewed through this thematic prism.