Best Picture and Director 1980

[Eenusch]

Roger Ebert called Raging Bull the best film of the 80s, but Ordinary People foretold the boomer angst of the 80s.

It was in this decade that boomers turned inward, and lamented that mommy didn't bake them cookies and daddy didn't take them to ballgames.

Everyone seemed to be a victim of a dysfunctional family and gurus like John Bradshaw wrote bestselling books on how to get in touch with your inner child via a 12 step group.

Raging Bull chronicled the victimhood of one man. Ordinary People foretold how victimhood took hold of a generation.

[Heksagon]

You can count me as one of the people saying Raging Bull is the standout film of the decade. However, I only became a real admirer after several repeat viewings - Raging Bull is a very rich and detailed film, and it's one of those films that you can better appreciate after several viewings (I must admit that on the first viewing I found the story to be somewhat linear, anti-climatic and predictable).

The Elephant Man is also deserving to be called a masterpiece - unlike Raging Bull, The Elephant Man is deceptively simple and very effective, it is one of those films that gives me (probably false) impression that it's easy to make good films when you just know what you're aiming at and don't try to make it too complex. I would not be disappointed to see Elephant Man win this poll, although it won't get any help from me.

I also think that Ordinary People is a good film, a bit surprisingly, as I generally speaking don't really like the other family-themed films that the Academy liked to nominate and award during this period (Kramer vs. Kramer, Breaking Away, The Terms of Endearment). The reason for that is probably that I found Ordinary People to be more heavily character-driven than the other films.

[ksrymy]

And no one was shocked when I voted for David Lynch's work.

[FilmFan720]

I haven't voted yet (I've never seen Tess), but count me as one more for The Elephant Man...

[The Original BJ]

Definitely worth noting that The Elephant Man is now beating Raging Bull (which itself is tied with Ordinary People) for Best Picture. I expected to see some dissent from Raging Bull, given the opinions of more vocal members I already knew about, but I'm surprised to see this much.

[Mister Tee]

When I say "tangential", I mean some details surrounding the movie that may not have made the histories – in fact, some I know only by happenstance. This is a sort of meandering story, and based on nearly 40-year-old memories, so bear with me.

In 1975, I took Richard Brown's film class at the New School; it was a way to see movies ahead of time, and also to see some cool people interviewed. One evening, Brown told a story about a class several years earlier, where William Friedkin -- at the height of his French Connection/Exorcist fame -- had been the guest. The discussion had turned to the making of Boys in the Band. Friedkin had said that, prior to filming, he'd thought he didn't know enough about his subject, and decided he should have a gay experience (back then, the term would probably have been homosexual experience, but whatever). He apparently went to Fire Island and tried to pick someone up, but backed off before consummation. Of course, today, this reads as deeply condescending, but it strikes me as just the kind of silly thing an earnest liberal might have felt progressive about trying in those very early years of gay rights. (And Friedkin, despite being generally a lout, politically was loudly liberal -- witness the Oscars he produced in 1976, which had Warren Beatty, Richard Pryor and Jane Fonda hosting, and Norman Mailer and Lillian Hellman as presenters) Anyway, per Brown's recounting, it wasn't an especially memorable story, and Friedkin ended it saying "Maybe it would have been a better movie if I'd gone through with it" -- at which point, a voice from the auditorium shouted "Maybe it would have been better if you weren't an awful human being".

This voice came not from anyone in the class, but from a man named Arthur Bell, who many of you may know was a pioneering journalist covering gay issues for the Village Voice. I don’t know if Bell was there specifically to see Friedkin or by chance, but he caused a major ruckus and got thrown out of the class. I’m sure from his at-the-time singular perspective (there were very few out gay men at the time) his outrage felt justified, and, as I say, today we’d cringe to hear such a story as Friedkin told. But that’s the arrogance of the future looking back on the past – we’re all by definition smarter than those who preceded us, because they can’t know all the things we do. In its time, it strikes me as more a pathetic, parody-liberal kind of thing than an outrage. Your mileage may vary.

Cut ahead a few years. In early 1979, Friedkin was preparing to shoot Cruising; Bell got a copy of the script, and wrote a series of Voice columns condemning the production. He referenced the night I’d heard about, saying “I’ll never forgive Friedkin for trying to ingratiate himself with a New School class by gay-baiting” (that last phrase may not be exactly what he used – it sounds too modern to the ear – but it was something right along those lines, deeply judgmental.) I of course wasn’t a first-hand witness to any of this, but Bell’s characterization seems to reflect his agenda a little too perfectly to be believed, and it certainly didn’t square with Brown’s recounting. And Bell’s credibility on this mattered, because his objection to Cruising, by his own telling, wasn’t to the film itself; it was to Friedkin’s participation in it. I distinctly recall him writing “If Sidney Lumet were directing this, I’d have no problem”. (A sentence to which I’d love to hear Damien’s reaction)

None of which should have mattered – journalists of course have the right to express any opinion. The problem was, Bell’s columns stirred up such strong resentment among a great many gay groups that, based largely on Bell’s say-so, they staged loud protests that interfered with filming, and then of course picketed when the film finally opened in winter 1980. All of this meant the film never had much of a chance with critics or audiences; it had a faint stink about it that made it difficult to evaluate it on its merits. The film was never a resounding flop, critically or commercially, but, as Kael wrote about Citizen Kane, it wasn’t enough of a success to offset the scandal, and went into the books a loser.

It’s entirely possible many of the people who protested and hated the film sight unseen would have had the same negative reaction without all this contextual; sturm und drang; there’s plenty in the film that’s problematic, and it definitely reinforced the idea of gay men as “the other”, which, as Eric says, is still a divisive issue. The problem, from where I stood, was too many people deciding the worth of a film prior to seeing it, based on the testimony of one man -- a man whose personal animus toward the director seemed the dominant factor in his opinion.

[ITALIANO]

I'd argue it also feels a lot closer to giallo than anything Brian De Palma was making at the time.

It's true. And like giallos say alot about Italian society of those times - its tensions and its fears - and say it in a confused but very emotional, very instinctual way, I think Cruising does the same for American society.

[Eric]

I'd argue it also feels a lot closer to giallo than anything Brian De Palma was making at the time.

[ITALIANO]

(Something I suppose I have to remind myself of as well when railing against things like La Cage.)

/

Exactly.

I think Cruising is a dreadful move, of course, but I can't deny that it's a very interesting one - for what it says about that period, and for what it says or implies not about homosexuality but certainly about homophobia in that period. It's true that, unlike in La Cage, gays here aren't European feminine queens but "leather-type" machos, yet the fact that they seem to be so obviously frightening and at the same time so obviously attractive for the (American and straight) makers of this movie is I think fascinanting - and disturbing. Crusing isn't a movie about gays - it's actually a movie about American heterosexuals, and how complicated they can be.

[Eric]

Eric, I'd be curious (perhaps in a different thread) to hear your thoughts on Cruising. I'm not the fan of the film you are, but I do think it got a bit of a bum rap for reasons only tangentially related to the film itself, and it interests me that you dissent from that conventional wisdom.

It's been a bit too long since I last saw it to comment in full, but I did review it here: http://www.slantmagazine.com/film/review/cruising/3084 ... In short, I'm not sure I agree that the controversy is at all tangential to the content of the film. In fact, the very things that disrupted the gay community back then are what I keep hearing today's more radical LGBT set deign for from today's community -- namely, to quit focusing on how we can become carbon copies of straight people and accentuate the things that set us apart. It's not that they're saying equal rights aren't important; it's that they have misgivings that marriage and military service (the twin towers of conservative American lore in their eyes) should be at the top of the agenda for us. Granted, 1980 was most definitely not 2013, and it's a lot easier to take for granted a wide berth of media representation now than it was then. (Something I suppose I have to remind myself of as well when railing against things like La Cage.)

I enjoyed The Shining mostly, but I'm kind of astounded how its reputation has grown so much in the decades since (this without an Ebert boost); at the time it was considered kind of a bust.

Not quite everywhere. Film Comment's Richard T. Jameson plunged deep into the labyrinth right after the film's release in an essay that's still probably the best thing I've ever read on the movie: http://parallax-view.org/2009/10/28/kubricks-shining/

[Big Magilla]

My recollection is that The Great Santini was shown on HBO as The Ace early in 1980 after it flopped under its original title in the South in late 1979 and then played New York and L.A. However, according to Inside Oscar it opened in New York two weeks prior to its HBO showing. If that's the case, I would assume it also played L.A. prior to its HBO showing since the reverse would likely have disqualified it from Oscar consideration. I know that I saw the film on HBO before I saw it in the theatre.

I know the ten week actors strike of 1980 which began July 21st had a huge impact on the 1980-1981 TV season, but it also had an impact on the film business. Only one film, On Golden Pond, was granted an exception to film during the strike because of the advanced age and questionable health of its stars. The studios slowed down their theatrical release rollouts to compensate for the unknown impact on future film production. I think this affected 1981 releases more so than 1980 releases, but one film that was certainly available for a 1980 release was Atlantic City which opened in Europe on the heels of after its September showing at the Venice Film Festival but didn't open in the U.S. until April, 1981.

Having moved to the Los Angeles area for almost two years in February, 1981 I think I know why Chariots of Fire won the 1981 Oscar. It wasn't because the alleged front-runners, Reds and On Golden Pond cancelled each other out. More on that this weekend.

[Mister Tee]

Eric, I'd be curious (perhaps in a different thread) to hear your thoughts on Cruising. I'm not the fan of the film you are, but I do think it got a bit of a bum rap for reasons only tangentially related to the film itself, and it interests me that you dissent from that conventional wisdom.

I can see where, from a distance, this doesn't look like all that bad a slate -- the least of the films achieves respectability, something that can't be said for some films recently nominated (The Turning Point) or to come (On Golden Pond). But I don't find any of the candidates truly top-drawer, the way I did so many in the decade past. Moreover, if you were there in real time, the sense that 70s cinema was disappearing for good grew palpable as the year went on. Remember, this was an era where interesting and financially successful films were not mutually exclusive, but, of this group, Coal Miner's Daughter was the only one to gross near Kramer vs. Kramer/Apocalypse Now territory. (And, to be blunt, even its gross was viewed --condescendingly -- as less impressive because it drew heavily on rural rather than urban filmgoers, its success thus more akin to Smokey and the Bandit's than hipper contemporaries) The other nominees did middling business at best, and such lower-category candidates as Melvin and Howard, Resurrection, The Stunt Man and The Great Santini were lucky to get theatre-releases at all -- that last film, I believe, had actually already been shown on HBO prior to its brief time in cinemas. Meantime, the box-office was dominated by a giant sequel, The Empire Strikes Back (whose critical reputation has always baffled me), and such throwaways as The Blues Brothers, Airplane! and Stir Crazy. This divide between art and commerce is one we take for granted today, but it represented a big change then, one that clearly portended a lesser future.

And, on a purely symbolic level, a few grisly things happened toward the end of the year: Heaven's Gate became an instant mega-flop, signalling a sudden end to the indulging of auteurist directors; Reagan was elected president; and John Lennon was shot. These three events, together with what had been happening at cinemas all year, made many of us feel (in the words of a Lennon song) "the dream is over". And it was, for quite some time.

The only movie I saw all year that excited me fully was Schlondorff's The Tin Drum -- for me the easy winner for best film and director. Beyond that and the Academy choices, I'd highlight John Huston's film of Wise Blood, dePalma's wonderful Dressed to Kill, and Resnais' Mon Oncle D'Amerique. I enjoyed The Shining mostly, but I'm kind of astounded how its reputation has grown so much in the decades since (this without an Ebert boost); at the time it was considered kind of a bust.

The six movies on the Academy's film/director list are bunched fairly together in my mind -- I neither hate nor love any. When Ordinary People opened, it had a bit of a burden of expectation: there wasn't much else on the horizon; it seemed like it if anything was going to have to fill the Academy's top slot. I'd hoped it would be at least up to the level of something like Kramer vs. Kramer, but found that even there it fell short. Redford/Sargent made some alterations to the book -- particularly moving the family from Evanston to a tonier suburb -- that made the social criticism pretty obvious. And the Mary Tyler Moore character was way too much the WASP ice queen for anything but the cheapest drama. Timothy Hutton and Donald Sutherland were both very good, but even their part of the story, moving as it was, felt like something that could have come from in the Playhouse 90 era, which was well short of what we expected from the dramas of the time.

Coal Miner's Daughter is an impressive piece of craftsmanship for all the reasons BJ cites -- authentic atmosphere, a nuanced view of a marriage, relative restraint from what could have been melodramatic plot turns. But all this fine detail work couldn't disguise that the film was at heart a showbiz biopic, and it was hemmed in by the limitations of the genre. Sissy Spacek's sensational performance gives the film value, but I can't see it having been a best picture contender in most of the decade preceding.

Tess is, no, not a revelation like Scorsese's Age of Innocence. But, at the end of a crappy year, simply bringing a strong piece of literature to the screen with its quality intact was enough to garner the film alot of praise. Nastassia Kinski wasn't any kind of incandescent central performer, but the actors surrounding her were pretty good, and Polanski's fatalism blended well with Hardy's. It's been over 30 years since I've seen it, and my memory is of a perfectly good sets-and-costumes candidate and a worthy enough slot-filler in a weak best picture contest.

Unlike BJ, I expected Raging Bull to run away with things here, believing the mythological status the film has gained over the decades would carry it along, so I'm surprised it's been only partly successful. I liked Raging Bull well enough simply as a piece of filmmaking -- the black-&-white look was spectacular, the feel for the era (not just the decor, but the ambience) on the nose, the cutting of the fights exhilarating. But I found the story considerably less engaging. The arguments -- especially those involving Joe Pesci -- are initially funny, but they go on and on, till they hit near Cassavettes level for me. In the end, despite deNiro's heroic efforts, I just don't find Lamotta an interesting enough character to justify his being the subject of such a film. Scorsese's efforts to camouflage this (for me) hollowness rate him consideration for the best director nod, but I've got other opportunities to vote for him up ahead, and I think I'll wait for them.

I went into The Stunt Man expecting it not to be my kind of movie, and maybe that set me up to be overly impressed -- but I flat-out enjoyed this movie more than any of the others in this group. And I do think Richard Rush (along with Peter O'Toole) is the primary reason why. The script has a slightly arch, arty aspect that could have been insufferable, but Rush pitched it at just the right level to keep it aloft in a pleasingly light way. Another way to put it: I agree with BJ's characterization of it as a soufflé -- but I think that's a GOOD thing. Richard Rush's career aside from this film is beyond undistinguished -- every other one of his films I've seen has been outright bad. But even a blind hog finds an acorn once in a while, and Rush does enough with this film that he gets my director vote.

My best picture choice, though, is The Elephant Man. This was my first exposure to David Lynch (I hadn't as yet caught Eraserhead), and I loved what he brought to the material, an entirely different approach from Pomerance's play. Lynch gave us a Victorian England unlike any we'd ever seen -- a place of shadow and mystery alongside elegance and finery. And I think he of all directors was able to find empathy with John Merrick's character -- when he has the carnival freaks set Merrick free, it feels like something in which Lynch himself would joyously join in. (That was my favorite scene in the film) I don't want to oversell the film. As I said at the start, I love none of these. But for me The Elephant Man is the strongest of the middling lot.

[Jim20]

The Elephant Man for Best Picture, and Scorsese for Best Director.

[Reza]

Voted for Ordinary People & Robert Redford

My picks for 1980:

Best Picture
1. Ordinary People
2. Raging Bull
3. Kagemusha
4. The Elephant Man
5. Breaker Morant

The 6th Spot: Tess

Best Director
*Robert Redford, Ordinary People
Martin Scorsese, Raging Bull
Akira Kurosawa, Kagemusha
David Lynch, The Elephant Man
Richard Rush, The Stunt Man

The 6th Spot: Roman Polanski, Tess

[The Original BJ]

Coal Miner's Daughter is one of the best examples of the musical biography. . . the visual look of Lynn's West Virginia home feels more lived-in and genuine than many Hollywood depictions of rural life. . .

Not to be anal-retentive, but Lynn's childhood home was in Butcher Hollow, Kentucky, not West Virginia.

Oops, obviously I should have Googled that.