Best Picture and Director 1973

[Big Magilla]

The Paper Chase makes my top twenty, but I was happy for John Houseman's win and for James Bridges' nod for Best Adapted Screenplay. The work later became a long-running TV series (1978-1986) so it certainly has its fans.

[Greg]

Out of the 1973 films I have seen that failed to make the Best Picture and Best Director lineups, my favorite is The Paper Chase. Does anyone else here think it warranted nominations in both categories?

[The Original BJ]

I had trouble coming up with a ton of alternates, and assumed I just wasn't that well-versed in this year. But it appears I'm not alone in finding this a bit of a dip in between two otherwise very major years.

Paper Moon definitely is superior to most of the nominees. So is Mean Streets, although I'm very much in line with Mister Tee's take on the movie -- a notable warm-up for a great director who would utilize a lot of the elements in this film to greater effect down the line.

A Touch of Class is a hunk of crap. As I was watching it I thought, it's a good thing I've seen a lot of REAL seventies movies, because this flirted enough with elements that seemed of the era (at least to someone who didn't live through it) that I might have written off films from this period altogether as just being painfully outdated if I hadn't been well-versed otherwise. Because this thing is just mercifully unfunny, with a story centering around pretty unappealing characters doing idiotic things. Given the uphill climb many great comedies have faced with Oscar, it's startling that this one managed to sail through to the Best Picture list.

Any time I hear The Exorcist referred to as a horror classic, the more I wonder if I just don't understand the appeal of the genre in its entirety. I think the movie is pretty much shlock. It has elements that work in a sort of brutally blunt way -- Regan's head spinning around, the projectile vomiting, the final exorcism sequence -- but the script is a really slapdash piece of work, with scenes that seem to have no relation to the rest of the film (the opening, for starters) and others where major connective tissue seems to be missing. William Friedkin wallows in the story's trashier impulses -- and honestly, maybe that was the right approach, given that the more shocking elements of the movie at least give it some energy -- but ultimately I find the movie just so silly I can't even remotely take it seriously.

Of the big two, I definitely prefer The Sting, which I found to be an enjoyable enough lark. I didn't see the big twist coming, so I was pleasantly surprised by that reveal, I enjoyed the chemistry between Newman and Redford, and I think the period setting and score create a transporting enough universe in which to spend a couple hours. George Roy Hill definitely was not an edgy director, but he showed a light enough touch in a lot of his efforts that worked for a comic crime caper like this. Of course, voting for this in Best Picture and Director would be a bit like choosing Soderbergh's Ocean's 11 for Best Picture -- I find both entertaining and fun, but there's clearly nothing much beneath the surface that elevates the film into an award-level effort.

The best of the comic Best Picture nominees (and, I just realized while writing this that voters choose THREE this year, which is quite rare) is certainly American Graffiti. I don't utterly dismiss the remainder of George Lucas's career the way that many do, but it's still amazing that something so lovely and sensitive as this could have come from someone who later became mostly preoccupied by spectacle and technological toys. American Graffiti is full of laughs and great dialogue, but it also resonates about as deeply as any coming-of-age movie ever. My personal favorite beat comes when Richard Dreyfuss goes to open his locker one last time, and finds that the combination has changed -- it's such a poignant moment that crystallizes the sadness associated with growing up and moving on. And the film's end titles -- which reveal that one of our heroes dies shortly after the events in this film -- cap the movie with a feeling of melancholy that's perfectly in line with the film's bittersweet tone. A lot of films have attempted to capture the magic of this one, and have come up short.

But my Best Picture vote goes to Cries and Whispers, a blisteringly powerful film about the inevitability of death, with more frightening moments than just about anything in The Exorcist. It took Ingmar Bergman a while to get to color film, but by the time he got to it here, he (and Sven Nykvist) crafted images as haunting as in any of his more obviously stark black-and-white efforts. And those actresses are superb, loving and selfish and tragic all at the same time, their faces used so piercingly by the director who found so much inspiration in them over the years. I don't know if Cries and Whispers is necessarily Bergman's best film -- the wit on display in some of his more playful efforts adds a pleasing level of complexity to his fondness for gloom-and-doom -- but in many ways Cries and Whispers might be his most typically Bergmanesque effort. (When Woody Allen decided to make his riff on Bergman, it probably shouldn't be surprising that he drew a ton of inspiration from this film.) It's a spare film, and not one that is easy to watch, but its rewards are overwhelming, and I think it's the best of the Best Picture batch.

Ingmar Bergman would be an excellent Best Director choice, for a very personal effort, and for his gorgeous display of craft. But...I think Last Tango in Paris is the best movie of the year, so I have to throw my vote in that category to Bernardo Bertolucci. I don't actually think Last Tango is a perfect movie -- it's a little messy, with a narrative that maybe bites off a little bit more than it can chew. But it's a film full of so many glorious moments, and the Brando-Schneider romance is one of the most complicated relationships of its kind ever put on film, passionate and painful and unsettling depending on the scene. And Marlon Brando gives one of the great performances of the modern era, creating an overwhelmingly powerful and tragic character who nonetheless is full of both charm and deep wells of anger. Bernardo Bertolucci wasn't always a consistently great director, but it's clear to me that he had both great visual talent as well as ambition, and this was his finest hour. Last Tango is a film full of beautiful images, but not ones that look embalmed -- there's an appropriate grime to the look of the movie that's really pleasing. And above all, it's a BOLD movie; even watching it in the aughts, I was startled by how much more honest the film's depiction of sexuality was compared to mainstream films of today. So, for creating such a boundary-pushing landmark, it's Bertolucci for Best Director.

[Eric]

I take note that no one's mentioned Altman's The Long Goodbye.

Well ...

01. The Wicker Man
02. The Long Goodbye
03. Score
04. Scenes from a Marriage
05. Film Portrait
06. Marilyn Times Five
07. Badlands
08. Paper Moon
09. The Embassy
10. Sisters

[Mister Tee]

Okri, to answer your question about Day of the Jackal: it had opened relatively early in the year (May or so), and was widely viewed as decent but "just a thriller". Today that wouldn't be much impediment to award consideration, but back then thrillers were viewed as a minor genre compared to the dramas the Academy mostly favored. Three Days of the Conodor and The Parallax View, two films pretty widely admired now, were similarly taken for granted in their day. (I realize The French Connection would seem to contradict this standard, but the character of Popeye Doyle was widely seen as elevating the film above genre)

I take note that no one's mentioned Altman's The Long Goodbye. This strikes me only because the film was a major hipster choice in 1973. At The Chicago Reader (at least then the alternative paper), I believe all their critics named the film the year's best or runner-up.

[Big Magilla]

Magilla, what you say about Badlands -- played the 1973 NY Film Festival, opened in NY only that Fall – matches what it says in IMDB, but my memory is it didn’t actually play commercially anywhere till 1974.

Your memory on this one is better than mine. Another instance of wrong information on IMDb. Vincent Canby's review of October 15, 1973 is based on the film's closing night showing at the 11th annual NYFF. The film is on the Times' ten best list for 1974 which means its New York theatrical release had to be 1974.

[Jim20]

Went with American Graffiti for Best Picture, and Ingmar Bergman for Directing.

[Mister Tee]

1973 was a bit of a lull year for me – the rare year in this period where there weren’t multiple American films I found outstanding.

Magilla, what you say about Badlands -- played the 1973 NY Film Festival, opened in NY only that Fall – matches what it says in IMDB, but my memory is it didn’t actually play commercially anywhere till 1974. Pauline Kael’s review was printed in mid-March ’74 -- which is when I remember it turning up -- and it would have been beyond unusual for her to write about a film that long after its NY opening. In either case, the point is, it was very much a 1974 qualifier (the same way Last Tango was a 1973 release despite filling the same festival slot in September ’72), so lamenting its absence here is pointless. Don’t Look Now, on the other hand, I’m pretty sure was 1973 all the way.

The “foreign films qualify a year later” thing of course kept Day for Night out of the race, but it was basically a 1-for-1 trade with the previous year’s Cries and Whispers, so its omission doesn’t muck things up as much as it might.

I’ve never been 100% enthused about Mean Streets. I see it more as a calling card for a future great career than a major credit within one. The DeNiro breakthrough performance (especially paired with his Bang the Drum work earlier in the year) gives the film historical importance, but I find its narrative too unfocused and its tone pitched too shrill for it to be a personal favorite.

Because they were both well-reviewed and box-office hits, it’s easy to imagine either Serpico or Paper Moon making the best picture list (certainly over at least one actual nominee). But my enthusiasm for both is mid-level, so I can’t work up any “they wuz robbed” feeling.

So, to the actual nominees…beginning with the dismal, retro A Touch of Class. I recently watched The Facts of Life, a 1960 Hope/Ball comedy by one of the same writers, and found it had roughly the same “affairs are fun to contemplate, but in the end marriage is the coolest” content. That’s not a sentiment I exactly dispute, but I find offensive this film’s attempt to reap some 1973 sexual hipness, only to fall back on these ‘50s verities in the end. Plus, the movie’s humor is hopelessly stale (they can’t screw because his back went out – hilarious!) and there’s a generally smarmy tone. This nomination was shockingly bad even for the era, and the worst element of a generally forgettable Oscar year.

The Exorcist was famously racing the clock to be ready for opening. I saw it on its first day in NY (day after Christmas); it was the first film I’d seen in years without benefit of even a Variety review -- that’s how tight the release schedule had been. To me, the haste showed. I thought a lot of the film looked ragged, with scenes seemingly missing that might have cleared up confusing elements. The basic plot had a certain powerful pull, so the film “worked” in the end (and clearly spawned hundreds of imitators). I enjoyed it mostly, but I think it’s a much lesser film than The French Connection, and I might even rate Sorcerer as a superior work. Neither Friedkin nor the film get any consideration from me.

Two things I’ll say about The Sting: 1) its reunion of Redford/Newman just a few years after Butch Cassidy, and its utterly old-fashioned plot and approach, marked it a supreme Studio Property, which, in that era of exciting filmmaking, was anathema to me; 2) I’m not really good at sussing out narrative surprises – I actively try not to speculate ahead, for the pleasure of discovery – but I guessed the big twist in The Sting the moment it was introduced. Specifically (AND, YES, FROM HERE ON I WILL BE SPOILING THE STING FOR ANYONE WHO HASN’T SEEN IT), as soon as Durning and Redford were brought into the FBI briefing, I thought, this is totally phony, it’s setting up the twist ending. Now, had the film not been marketed as containing this incredibly surprising ending, it’s possible I wouldn’t have been looking for such a twist and wouldn’t have been so smart (though knowing there was a surprise in The Crying Game didn’t tip me off there). And, to be fair, the identity of Redford’s would-be assassin came as a complete shocker to me. But, on the whole, I have to say, when a film offers no character or societal insight, and its sole claim to fame is how clever its plot is, if you figure out that plot before you’re supposed to, there’s not much there to enjoy. So, though I’d rate The Sting as technically a better film than The Exorcist – and thus preferred it of the two -- it existed at a mediocre enough level that I still found its Oscar victory fairly depressing .

Because there were a few films involved in that year’s Oscar race that were truly energizing in the style of the times, and they had my heart.

Iit’s now 40 years since I last saw Cries and Whispers, so my opinion isn’t fresh. At the time, I was quite impressed with the film, but I wonder in retrospect if I was mostly impressed with myself for feeling I understood it. Bergman at the time was the quintessential art-film director, very culturally intimidating; my only previous encounter with one of his films had been The Seventh Seal, which I’d seen (and utterly missed the point of) when I was a high school sophomore. Cries and Whispers, by contrast, felt straightforward; there was nothing my 20-year-old self found confusing. And, today, I wonder if that was actually a sign there was less to the film than met the eye. For one particular instance: at the time, I found it easy to comprehend Liv Ullmann’s persona in the film – she presented herself as deeply sensitive, but it was clear she was mostly deep-on-the-surface. Because of this, her terrified retreat from her sister’s bed seemed completely in character. But now I think that scene was too, as we say today, on-the-nose: the fact that a naïf like me could anticipate the action makes me figure it wasn’t all that profound. I haven’t had second thoughts like this about other Bergman films -- Persona and Through a Glass Darkly, especially, still strike me as major works of art. But I have my doubts about Cries and Whispers. This certainly isn’t to dismiss the film entirely – it was powerful (the mutilation scene etched in my memory), and impeccably crafted (the fade-to-red was a beautiful directorial choice). And I fully understand any instinct to choose Bergman as best director; given the lay of the land on that Oscar night, with The Sting vs. The Exorcist the main competition, I was rooting for such an outcome (and, when Sven Nykvist thrillingly won for cinematography, I had a brief moment of hope it would come about). But I have another excellent chance to vote for Bergman down the line, and other places I want to send my votes this year.

I’m more confident in my judgment of Last Tango in Paris, both because I’ve seen at least parts of it in the years since, and because its impact on me was far more direct/less cerebral even at the time. Whatever else Bertolucci packed into the film – and there was plenty – its heart was the anguish of a man who’s lost his wife to suicide and is struggling to find some way to make his life work again. That the man was played by Marlon Brando in one of his greatest performances raised the level of the film to near-masterpiece. Bertolucci’s subsequent career has been hit-and-miss, for me. But I think this is his best film, and by me it would have had a best picture nod to go with best director. He’s not, however, my winner.

I’m the (so far sole) vote in both categories for American Graffiti, which I view as one of the half dozen or so close to perfect American films of the 70s. It’s something of a miracle the film is anything at all, given the later credits of its main creators -- George Lucas got lost in juvenilia; the writers turned out two of the most famous bombs in Hollywood history, Lucky Lady and Howard the Duck. (The only participant who contributed any later lasting art was “visual consultant” Haskell Wexler) But American Graffiti is something of a miracle itself: a hilariously entertaining comedy that serves as a coming-of-age film on two levels – for its just-past-teens protagonists, and, subtextually, for a country. I wonder if that last is even evident now. Because, for those of us watching the film in 1973, that subtext – the knowledge that the country was, shortly after the action in the film, about to be hit with the hammer-blows of the JFK assassination, Vietnam and Watergate – made the film almost unbearably wistful even with all the laughs. The fact that the film never articulated those larger issues (except in throwaway) somehow made them come through even stronger – scenes that discussed what seemed small-bore, mundane issues (like Dreyfuss' studio chat with the Wolfman) felt like they were about greater things, only the characters didn’t know it, yet...which only added to the melancholy. And the film is full of wonderful scenes and tiny touches – right down to the end, with Dreyfuss bringing his transistor radio onto the plane, clinging to it till the music fades in the air…and then looking down and seeing the white T-Bird, the symbol of all that’s unknowable in what he’s leaving behind.

Much about the film may not seem that revelatory in hindsight, since so many of its elements have become commonplace. The cutting across multiple story lines seems routine now, but at that point it was considered way too complex for a mass American audience . Plenty of movies today are wall-to-wall music – this was the first to use the soundtrack as wallpaper: as if the characters’ lives were played out to the accompaniment of Top 40 radio. And the end titles – explaining what happened to the main characters after the film – had been a feature on Dragnet and some true-life films, but had never before been used in a fiction film. This film was every bit as inventive on these levels as the other classics we've been discussing recently.

I’m somewhat loathe to throw a best director vote George Lucas’ way, given how much he had to do with sabotaging grown-up cinema for the last 35 years. But I think American Graffiti is a perfectly made piece of popular art, and so he gets my vote… along with a very enthusiastic (if lonely) best picture check-off.

[Bog]

Last Tango in Paris, which had been shown at the New York Film Festival in 1972 and released in Italy and France in December, 1972, was not shown theatrically in the U.S. until 1973, January in New York, February in L.A. The obvious reason for the delay was that Paramount, which released both that and The Godfather wanted to stretch Brando's awards potential out to two years.

Oh, the irony.

Clearly a rogue calendar manipulation with no consulting the star for whom they were adjusting film releases...

[Greg]

Last Tango in Paris, which had been shown at the New York Film Festival in 1972 and released in Italy and France in December, 1972, was not shown theatrically in the U.S. until 1973, January in New York, February in L.A. The obvious reason for the delay was that Paramount, which released both that and The Godfather wanted to stretch Brando's awards potential out to two years.

Oh, the irony.

[Big Magilla]

Badlands, like Day for Night was shown at the 1973 New York Film Festival and opened theatrically in New York following that showing in October, 1973, but like Day for Night did not play L.A. until 1974. I don't know about Don't Look Now which opened in New York in December. Last Tango in Paris, which had been shown at the New York Film Festival in 1972 and released in Italy and France in December, 1972, was not shown theatrically in the U.S. until 1973, January in New York, February in L.A. The obvious reason for the delay was that Paramount, which released both that and The Godfather wanted to stretch Brando's awards potential out to two years.

I don't know how much of the lore surrounding The Exorcist is generally known today, but the book and film were based on a real life Georgetown exorcism that took place in the late 1940s. The characters played by Ellen Burstyn and Jack MacGowran were based on Shirley MacLaine and J. Lee Thompson who worked together on several films in the mid-1960s. The film was plagued by several highly publicized mishaps culminating in the death of MacGowran in January, 1973. Mercedes McCambridge's participation as the voice of the devil was kept secret until she herself made a fuss about her lack of credit, giving the film a bit of a backlash between the Globes and the Oscar nominations. Max von Sydow thought he was hired to play the young priest. To this day he has no idea why they wanted him to play the old one.

[Okri]

Of the ignored films, Badlands strikes the deepest chord. I also want to toss in a vote for The Day of the Jackal, a superbly constructed thriller that should've gotten more recognition beyond it's lone editing nod (and I see it did well at the Golden Globes, so what gives?). I'll echo Magilla's shout-outs to Bang the Drum Slowly, Serpico and Sabin's for Mean Streets. And Roeg's Don't Look Now, though I don't know if that's 73 or 74. I don't know who you can argue that Cries and Whispers should've been a 1972 when endorsing Andrei Rublev as a 1973 one.

Tee's hatred of A Touch of Class in no way prepared me for just how terrible it actually was. This isn't that strong a line-up, but it would have to be horrendously weak before I considered it.

I like American Graffiti, The Sting and The Exorcist about the same. Passable entertainments that could've been so much better. Or maybe they couldn't have been better, but they weren't that great.

So Cries and Whispers and Bergman it is. I considered voting for Bertolucci, but he'll garner my consideration elsewhere (so will Bergman, to be fair, so it comes down to preferring Cries and Whispers to Last Tango in Paris).

[Sabin]

I have not seen A Touch of Class. Because it seems likely to join the canon of films on this board that receive zero stars, I feel like I can continue. Although this is a lineup without Mean Streets or Badlands, there are some extraordinary films here. I can't say I love The Exorcist, although not being a moviegoer/alive in 1973, I can't attest to whatever watershed appeal it had. I find it unsettling but not among the best aged films of all time. I think I might prefer The Sting just because it's sense of fun has not diminished a bit. It's a terrifically entertaining caper that I don't feel like ruining with too much thought. Best Picture? Heavens, no. But I can't join the choir bemoaning The Exorcist's loss.

I agree with Magilla that in a just world, Cries and Whispers and Bergman would join the lineup from 1972 (likely knocking out Deliverance, The Emigrants, Mankiewicz, or Sounder) and Day for Night would join this lineup (taking up Cries and Whispers' occupancy), which means instead of Oscar winner Tatum O'Neal, Oscar winner Valentina Cortese might have actually happened. Although if she couldn't beat Ingrid Bergman, is there any reason to believe she could be Tatum O'Neal's lovely work? Or the predicted winner of the night Linda Blair's, I should say?

I'd love to give it to American Graffiti because it's such an entertaining film, and more so it's my kind of film. It's an all-nighter movie. It's a time and place comedy. But to be fair, I think Diner and Dazed and Confused are superior films that have taken some of the luster off it.

This is my only opportunity to give an Ingmar Bergman movie the win. It's been ages since I've seen Cries and Whispers but I found it incredibly powerful at the time and there's no reason I won't find it as powerful now. For Best Director, I'm torn between Bergman and Bertolucci. I know that Bergman will be getting another vote later on, and I'm reasonably sure that Bertolucci will too. Really a flip of a coin. There's no reason to split up Bergman's achievement with Cries and Whispers so I'll choose him for Best Director as well.

[anonymous1980]

I'm surprised that something like Cries & Whispers managed to get in the Best Picture lineup. It's slow, cerebral and contains genital mutilation.

[Reza]

This was an easy one for me: Bergman and his film, truly a shattering experience, with Ingrid Thulin at her peak. Amazed she was not nominated. Also a pity Don't Look Now was ignored totally by the Academy.

My picks for 1973:

1973
Best Picture
1. Cries and Whispers
2. The Exorcist
3. Don't Look Now
4. American Graffiti
5. Paper Moon

The 6th Spot: O Lucky Man!

Best Director
1. Ingmar Bergman, Cries and Whispers
2. William Friedkin, The Exorcist
3. Nicholas Roeg, Don't Look Now
4. Bernardo Bertolucci, Last Tango in Paris
5. George Lucas, American Graffiti

The 6th Spot: Peter Bogdanovich, Paper Moon