Best Picture and Director 1984

[Heksagon]

This year has two excellent films (Amadeus and A Passage to India), one decent film (The Killing Fields) and two mediocre films which are sub-par for Oscar nominees (Places in the Heart and A Soldier's Story).

My choice is David Lean's masterpiece A Passage to India. Not only does the film have (Lean's usual) excellent visuals and great acting, but it also succeeds perfectly in delivering its social argument about the sociological challenges of colonial rule. It is true that the issues the film deals with are hopelessly outdated for modern audiences, although, obviously, they do still have historical significance.

[The Original BJ]

This year overall is pretty lousy -- it had to have been, for movies like The Karate Kid and Beverly Hills Cop to score major nominations, simply because options were so scarce. But I'm a bit higher on this year's Picture/Director slate than some, perhaps just because there weren't that many candidates, and I generally think voters ended up recognizing a lot of the best movies of the year simply because they had no other choices. And I'm positive overall on most of these movies (whereas in 1985, I think the movies are FAR worse, AND I think there were a lot better options among the snubbed candidates, so that's a year that makes me really grouchy.)

The worst Best Picture nominee, definitely, is A Soldier's Story. I wasn't familiar with the play before I saw the movie, but I think the material at its base is reasonably interesting. I found the big plot reveal to be both surprising on a narrative level and compelling from a thematic/cultural standpoint. But, as others have said, Norman Jewison brings out the hoariest aspects of the story -- there seems to be a constant tension between the play's interest in creating a group of well-rounded, diverse African-American characters and Jewison's more simplistic sledgehammer approach to its racial themes. On the whole, this seems to me the kind of movie rewarded more for its noble subject matter than its execution.

The script to Places in the Heart is pretty thin stuff. It doesn't exactly bristle with originality or even much drive -- for a movie about a race to save the farm, it does sure take its time meandering through its various subplots. But what kept me interested throughout were the constant grace notes from the cast and director that give the movie a sense of delicacy, in finely observed moments like Field looking at her husband's body on the dining room table, Malkovich unknowingly dipping his hand into Field's bath, or the town huddled together during the storm. And best of all is the ending, an unexpected sequence that lands with a very quiet power. I don't think Robert Benton was necessarily a visionary enough director to make his film reach great art levels -- you can pretty easily imagine the Terrence Malick version of this story, which would have been far more visually and spiritually overwhelming. But he does bring a lot of sensitivity to the film, and I don't really begrudge its large nomination tally.

Broadway Danny Rose isn't among Woody Allen's greatest achievements -- it's a bit wispy, especially compared to major works like Hannah and Her Sisters and Crimes and Misdemeanors just up ahead. But as far as Allen's light, short, funny efforts go, it's paced with quite a bit of zip, has a lot of laughs, and has a nice, nostalgic visual look to it. Career-wise, Allen is one of the best of the directors nominated, and the film fits so perfectly into one of his favorite milieus (New York show biz) I'm tempted to give him another Director prize (perhaps in recognition of an era when a minor Woody Allen didn't mean a useless Woody Allen). But the movie is so small, despite its pleasures, it just would seem miscast as a Best Director winner.

The Killing Fields is a bit of a ragged movie. There are some pretty obvious flaws -- I think a lot of the second chunk of the movie goes on too long, not just the Waterston-at-home sections, but also the killing fields portions, because one can only watch Dith Pran wade through so much horror and violence before the movie starts to feel a little endless. But there's some pretty exciting filmmaking in the extended Embassy sequence, which Roland Joffé manages to make as suspenseful as the best thrillers without ever exploiting the situation for cheap thrills over grounded human drama. And the ending is just about impossible to resist -- whatever portion of the movie may have dragged up until that point almost seems redeemed by the overwhelming catharsis that comes from its finale. Not a consistently strong enough effort to get my votes, but one with plenty of genuine highs.

My vote comes down to the remaining two movies, and though both are very stereotypical awards candidates (epic literary adaptation & period biography), I think both films are quite intelligent and well-crafted, even if neither is really bracing. For me, the moral quandaries and thorny depiction of colonialism/culture clash in A Passage to India put it far closer in quality to a literate epic like The English Patient than the empty bloat of Gandhi. Of course, Lean is working with pretty great source material, but he nonetheless manages to make this film that rare movie of this type where sheer size doesn't overwhelm the human drama. That said, Lean's signature element -- gorgeous of images of great scope -- is in full display here as well, and his images (such as the quietly foreboding shots outside the caves, or the striking portrait of Peggy Ashcroft making her lonely final trip into the ocean) are perfectly attuned to the film's themes. I've voted for Lean three times already as Best Director, and that seems like enough, so I won't choose him again here. But I think this film is a pretty memorable swan song, from a director who made these kinds of films with more art and intelligence than most others who have tried before or since.

I think Amadeus is the strongest movie on the ballot, so it gets my vote in Best Picture. It could very well be that the classically-trained pianist in me just responds to the subject matter in a way that feels more personal. But I also think the movie's themes are pretty universal -- I'd imagine the film's exploration of personal and professional jealousy would resonate even for those outside artistic fields. I think the way the film explores the dynamic between Salieri (just marvelously played by Abraham) and Mozart, as competitors, as collaborators, as friends, as enemies, is quite insightful, and imminently relatable. Even from the opening scene -- when Salieri plays a number of his compositions, which go unrecognized, and then he plays an instantly memorable Mozart piece -- the films taps into the very human fear that we just might not reach the levels of accomplishment we hope to in life, that we'll always be kept in the shadow of somebody who has achieved our own dreams for himself. Like A Passage to India, it sets this dramatic personal saga against a gorgeous backdrop, and the lighting, sets, and clothes amount to a visual feast for the eyes, as the soundtrack thrills the ears. As a director, Milos Forman seems to be in about the same company as someone like William Wyler -- not such a groundbreaking filmmaker that I think he deserves multiple Oscars, but one with consistently intelligent taste and a graceful enough classical visual style that I feel fine granting him one. So, I vote a straight ticket for Amadeus.

[Reza]

Voted for A Passage to India and David Lean.

My top picks for 1984:

Best Picture
1. A Passage to India
2. Amadeus
3. The Killing Fields
4. Places in the Heart
5. Paris, Texas

The 6th Spot: Under the Volcano

Best Director
1. David Lean, A Passage to India
2. Milos Forman, Amadeus
3. Roland Joffe, The Killing Fields
4. Robert Benton, Places in the Heart
5. Wim Wenders, Paris, Texas

The 6th Spot: John Huston, Under the Volcano

[Eric]

Oh, yeah: did I mention this movie felt REALLY long? I was pretty much bored senseless from the two-hour mark on, except for the rallying conclusion.

Was just musing that the one thing Amadeus had over its competition here and, so far as it's enduring reputation is concerned, among virtually all of the other '80s prestige bloat is that it is a comparatively lithe thing. Boredom is obviously in the drowsy eye of the beholder, but I at least greatly prefer Amadeus to the other Forman film that netted Oscar love. Then again, I have a lot more respect for the source material in Cuckoo's Nest's case.

01. Love Streams
02. Crimes of Passion
03. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
04. The Times of Harvey Milk
05. Body Double
06. Gremlins
07. Blood Simple
08. Yellow Earth
09. This Is Spinal Tap
10. Before Stonewall

[Greg]

Mozart was, we know, an extraordinary prodigy, and presumably not a refined gent, but presenting him as this giggling ninny who magically churns out masterful music is insulting; I never saw any actor look other than foolish in the role. Salieri is a far-better written part, and F. Murray Abraham does quite well by him, but again it’s nothing deep; as Pauline Kael said, Salieri is essentially Wile E. Coyote being outwitted by Road Runner Mozart for almost three hours.

What really made Amadeus for me was later in the film when all of this was turned on end when Mozart and Salieri started to collaborate.

[Mister Tee]

1984 was the first of a two-year trough: the bottoming-out point of the worst decade for film in my lifetime. There wasn’t a single film released all year that reached the level of Terms of Endearment, The Right Stuff, Tootsie, E.T. – to say nothing of the great films of the preceding decade. There wasn’t much at second-tier level, either – I think I went to fewer movies that year than ever before. The Oscar movies all opened September or later (which is standard today, but not back then), and the constituencies that formed around them seemed more desperate than enthusiastic – i.e., the sense was less “I love this movie” than “something’s got to be nominated this year, and I guess this isn’t so bad”.

From that, you might guess I have few alternatives to offer. The best movie totally ignored by the Oscars was Tavernier’s A Sunday in the Country, a gracefully nostalgic piece that I’d hoped might at least slip into lone-director territory. I also liked Moscow on the Hudson, Mrs. Soffel and Birdy, but wouldn’t for a moment suggest any of them were robbed by failing to get nominations.

I’d seen A Soldier’s Play onstage (the title was changed here, for obvious reasons), and thought it reasonably solid. Despite bringing along almost the entire off-Broadway cast (including Denzel and Adolph Caesar), Norman Jewison managed to turn it into something significantly less. He didn’t seem to know how to camouflage the piece’s theatrical origins – every time a flashback ended, you could just about sense the light cue. Worse, he grossly sentimentalized the racial politics – to the point of including a wistful shot of white and black kids fishing together, as if to say “this will all be better when they grow up”. This was not the Jewison of In the Heat of the Night; it was the Jewison halfway to The Hurricane. Some of Fuller’s play managed to remain, giving the film what distinction it had. But I found it easily the worst of the nominees.

You can at least say of Amadeus that Forman’s film didn’t suffer from such slavish devotion to the play script; he and Peter Shaffer gave it a thorough rethink, and it seemed like a project conceived for the screen. But it’s such a shallow concept (as I thought about the play, as well). Mozart was, we know, an extraordinary prodigy, and presumably not a refined gent, but presenting him as this giggling ninny who magically churns out masterful music is insulting; I never saw any actor look other than foolish in the role. Salieri is a far-better written part, and F. Murray Abraham does quite well by him, but again it’s nothing deep; as Pauline Kael said, Salieri is essentially Wile E. Coyote being outwitted by Road Runner Mozart for almost three hours. Oh, yeah: did I mention this movie felt REALLY long? I was pretty much bored senseless from the two-hour mark on, except for the rallying conclusion. The enthusiasm some have for this film (starting with Siskel & Ebert) has always baffled me. I’d grant it sets and costume wins (though I might have preferred The Cotton Club for design), but the film turning into an 8 Oscar juggernaut is an all-time mystery.

For a period, from late December through the Globes, I was pretty certain A Passage to India was going to be the awards season heavyweight. The film had opened shortly before Christmas to very strong notices. It immediately won the NY Critics and NBR best picture prizes, and a Time Magazine cover story (which used to matter) proclaimed Lean a returned cinematic messiah. I’m of the opinion that the suddenly revived enthusiasm for Lean, even among hipper critics, was akin to the exultation Democrats later experienced when Lloyd Bentsen was chosen as the VP nominee – in each case, the man receiving the praise was roughly what had provoked open rebellion in the 60s, but, given what was on offer in the 80s, now seemed wonderful by comparison. Not that A Passage to India was a bad movie; it was way better than Ryan’s Daughter -- perfectly respectable period drama, and, whenever Peggy Ashcroft was involved, a bit more. But its safely-in-the-past “Brits behaved badly in India” topic (which was as much the issue as what did or didn’t happen in the Mirabar caves) seemed pretty remote to me. Presumably others reacted as I did, too, since the film faded as the season progressed, and ended up with a mere two Oscars (the Ashcroft one deserved; the Jarre one seemed reflexive, in a year when Randy Newman wrote a theme that’s played to this day).

I’d had the sense that A Soldier’s Story was the sort of liberal sentimental best picture nominee that the directors’ branch commonly omitted, but it came as a huge surprise that Allen’s work on Broadway Danny Rose was the replacement. Allen had been in a bit of a career lull, after the nasty critical reaction to Stardust Memories, and the very minor A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy, and, though Zelig and Broadway Danny Rose had brought him back to critical favor, it seemed like his period of Oscar favor might be past. Also, Broadway Danny Rose was beyond forgotten: it had opened in January of ’84, and hadn’t been mentioned in any prognostication (Allen himself said when he saw the nomination, he thought it was a typo). I certainly wouldn’t rank the film anywhere near the top tier of Allen’s work, but it was probably the one of his films I’d enjoyed most freely since Manhattan; it had a good number of laughs, and a Damon Runyon sweetness (also one of Mia Farrow’s better performances). Given my utter lack of enthusiasm for the other contenders, I was fine with this nomination.

Places in the Heart is one of those movies whose only failure is at the conceptual level. The idea of, in 1984, structuring a movie around a widow’s frantic attempt to win a “get the cotton in first” race in order to save her farm sounds laughable…and, on a plot level, it is. But Robert Benton and his collaborators (both in front of and behind the camera) do such lovely work that the film ends up being genuinely moving, and seems a better movie than it ought to be. Sally Field isn’t as strong as she was in Norma Rae, but this is still her second-best American film role, and stalwarts John Malkovich, Ed Harris, Danny Glover, Amy Madigan and Lindsay Crouse all offer fine support. But Benton himself does the most to make the film transcend its narrative limitations. Throughout, he imposes a sense of grace upon the film (it feels like one of the most authentically religious films ever made in this country). My favorite line, I think, is when Field, responding to Malkovich’s request for her to describe what she looks like, says “I wanted Mama’s brown eyes, but Margaret got ‘em” – suggesting there are only so many assets to go around in this world, and it’s fair that everyone get just their share. This spiritual overlay on the film is of course most encapsulated in the final moments – especially the final shot, which was genuinely startling at the time, and made one re-evaluate what one had been watching. The film was suddenly not just a tired 30s melodrama retread, but a thoughtful effort dealing with spiritual forgiveness in a way not commonly seen in American cinema. None of this makes Places in the Heart a great film – as I said, nothing in 1984 got near that level. But Benton’s scrupulous work persuades me he deserves my vote for best director in this lackluster pack.

For best film, though, The Killing Fields is my choice. The Killing Fields isn’t a perfect movie, but it’s a very powerful one, and it has a significant middle chunk that’s really engaging – the overthrow of the regime, the celebrations in the street, the frantic attempt to forge a passport, the heartbreaking evacuation / separation. The latter portion of the film is somewhat divided, with Schanberg’s stateside issues looking rather minor alongside Dith Pran’s harrowing journey across Cambodia. But the ending is an emotional killer, and the film as a whole has more heft and more immediacy than anything else on the roster. The Killing Fields gets my unthrilled but certain vote.

Enough said about 1984. Unfortunately, 1985 was even less interesting.

[Greg]

So far, this vote is shaping up for a strong consensus, with the exception of Magilla's little-old-lady fetish.

[mlrg]

voted for Amadeus and Forman.

Otherwise, a pretty weak lineup.

[Greg]

I chose Amadeus, one of my all-time-top-twenty favorite films, and Forman.

[Big Magilla]

1984 was, to me, a very good year for film and they did for the most part without stars.

Sally Field was the only big name among the stars of the five films nominated for Best Picture and at the time was still considered in many circles as a TV actress who got lucky five years earlier. Robert Benton's Places in the Heart was the best of the year's three farm films in which all three female stars (Jessica Lange and Sissy Spacek were the others) were all channeling Lillian Gish as though they had just discovered her. Luckily for 91 year-old Gish, this prompted a resurgence in her career that led to The Whales of August three years later in which she easily outshone fellow legend Bette Davis. Field's performance was aided by an extraordinary supporting cast that included John Malkovich, Danny Glover, Lindsay Cruse, Ed Harris and Amy Madigan.

When Katharine Hepburn turned down the part of Mrs. Moore in A Passage to India, David Lean turned to stage legend and infrequent film player Peggy Ashcroft who arguably gave the performance of the year alongside Indian actor Victor Banerjee and emerging Australian star Judy Davis, both of whom were also quite good as were James Fox, Nigel Havers, Art Malik and others. Alec Guinness, though miscast, managed to give a good account of himself as a Hindu philosopher, though it was Saeed Jaffrey featured player who played the part opposite Gladys Cooper in the 1962 Broadway production who should have ben cast instead. I suspect Lean cast him to have him at the ready in case Guinness, whom Lean considered his good luck charm having cast him in most of his successful films, walked out as he threatened to do numerous times.

Howard E. Rollin, Jr. was the biggest name in Norman Jewison's mystery set in a black Army barracks retitled A Soldier's Story rom A Soldier's Play, which couldn't quite shake its stage origins. Despite Rollins' excellent performance, it was supporting player Adolph Caesar who stole the show.

Sam Waterston, not yet a household name, was nevertheless the biggest name in Roland Joffé's The Killing Fields, although it was non-actor Haing S. Ngor whose performance made the film, a harrowing account of life in Cambodia under the tyrannical thumb of the Khmer Rouge.

F. Murray Abraham and Tom Hulce were virtually unknown to audiences when they were assigned the leads played on Broadway by Ian McKellen and Tim Curry in Milos Forman's Amadeus.

Beyond the Best Picture nominees, non-stars Matthew Modine and Nicolas Cage gave good accounts of themselves in Alan Parker's coming-of-age film, Birdy while John Lynch and a still not quite a star Helen Mirren acted up a storm in Pat O'Connor's Cal, one of the best films made about the "Irish troubles".

Character actor Harry Dean Stanton had the role of his career, assisted by the better known Nastassja Kinski and Dean Stockwell in Wim Winders' haunting Paris, Texas, while Christopher Lambert and Andie McDowell were memorable as Tarzan and Jane in Hugh Hudson's Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, even if McDowell's voice had to be dubbed by Glenn Close while Ralph Richardson and Ian Holm lent the film their usual class.

TV favorite Pat Morita, billed under his birth name, Noriyuki, proved a memorable screen presence in the surprise hit, The Karate Kid starring virtual unknown Ralph Macchio.

Of the stars who made good films this year, Jack Lemmon had one of his best career roles as the mentoring priest in Mass Appeal, but it was newcomer Zeljko Ivanek as the rebellious seminarian who kept both the character and the actor on his toes. Mel Gibson made two good movies, Roger Donaldson's thrilling adaptation of The Bounty in which he played Fletcher Christian opposite Anthony Hopkins' Captain Bligh and Gillian Armstrong's Mrs. Soffel opposite Diane Keaton in one of the year's best performances as the warden's wife who has an affair with Gibson's convict. Robin Williams came to film in what would turn out to be one of his least obnoxious roles in Paul Mazurksy's Moscow on the Hudson, but that was about it for good work from well-known actors in good films this year. Oscar nominees Albert Finney, Jeff Bridges, Vanessa Redgrave and others gave good performances in films that didn't quite live up to their participation. Sergio Leone's excellent Once Upon a Time in America was originally shown in such a chopped up version that it shouldn't be considered one of the year's best films in release though its ultimate restoration makes it one in retrospect.

A lot of people would add Woody Allen's Broadway Danny Rose to the list of the year's best films, but I found it rather tedious. I would replace Allen with Wim Wenders in the Best Director race. I would also add Wenders' film, Paris, Texas to the Best Picture race replacing A Soldier's Story which is sixth favorite film of the year just ahead of Mass Appeal; Birdy; Mrs. Soffel and Cal. As fro wins, that's easy, I go with David Lean and his last hurrah, A Passage to India.