Best Picture and Director 1979

[The Original BJ]

I would say that this is probably one of the ten best Best Picture lineups -- the movies, overall, might not be glorious enough to move it into top five for me, but on the whole it's really solid across the board.

Of course, the omission of Manhattan -- and Woody in Director, for his most visually impressive work ever -- is criminal. Not sure if I would definitely vote for it had it been on the ballot, but it certainly would have been in the conversation. I also really like The Marriage of Maria Braun, Fassbinder's peak as a filmmaker, as well as a lot of the movies that ended up down-ballot.

It's rare that the lone director nominee is the worst on the slate, but I think Edouard Molinaro definitely is. I think La Cage aux Folles' set-up isn't without interest -- I find the stage musical it inspired a lot more entertaining, with themes that are still relevant -- but the way (the soon-to-be-Criterion-minted) movie was directed is just ridiculous. What should have been a light, drawing-room farce ends up feeling totally leaden, with jokes delivered with sledgehammer emphasis, and a tone that grows more and more over-the-top as the narrative goes on. And visually, it's utterly undistinguished. Given the available alternates this year, this nomination is ludicrous.

Of the Best Picture nominees, I think I like Norma Rae the least, but I find a lot to admire about it. Its best element, of course, is the terrific Sally Field performance, in all its foul-mouthed, blowsy glory, and I love the way neither the actress nor the script shies away from highlighting the less appealing aspects of her character alongside her heroism. And generally, that's what I like about the movie overall, that it treats the central conflict in a well-grounded, realistic manner, rather than in simplistic blacks and whites, while still managing to present a politically sharp, pro-union message. It doesn't quite tip into Great Movie territory -- it's more a great performance showcase -- but it's pretty strong for the runt of the litter.

Breaking Away is such a lovely coming of age movie, that juggles a lot of different tones without ever feeling disjointed. There's a lot of heart to the story, most evident in the relationship between Dennis Christopher and his parents (lovingly embodied by Dooley and Barrie). But there are a lot of laughs as well, and the scenes of Christopher and his pals shooting the breeze feel so natural in their laid-back charm. There's also a compelling sense of danger in some scenes -- most notably the boys diving into the quarry -- as well as melancholy, in a story about a group of young guys trying to figure out what to do with their lives when economic circumstances aren't always in their favor. But, of course, it's rousing as well, with a final bicycle race that really lifts your spirits in a manner that feels completely earned rather than manipulative. Peter Yates streamlines all of these elements into a very engaging narrative, and manages to create a realistic, lived-in portrait of small town life in the process. In the end, it may be a little bit small for my votes, but it's another very strong movie on the ballot.

It always surprises me when a movie like Kramer vs. Kramer is viewed by some as a great-great FILM. I think it falls short of that status, both in terms of its ambition (which is somewhat small) and its visuals (Robert Benton has never struck me as a director with much interest in images). But as a piece of writing and acting, it's pretty perfect. I love the way the film creates such an even-handed portrait of its central conflict -- of course the audience can't help but sympathize with Hoffman's character, who was there for his child when his wife wasn't. But at the same time, Streep's actions are completely understandable, and it's to the movie's great credit that her character comes off not as a villain, but as yet another casualty in a heartbreaking situation. And the performances -- by Hoffman and Streep, especially -- are among the best those wonderful actors have ever given. Like next year's winner, it doesn't feel as major to me as some of its competitors, but it's a nuanced and affecting work nonetheless.

I will defend All That Jazz in the face of the haters any day. I think it is -- along with Cabaret and Nashville -- one of very few musicals this decade that really tapped into the quintessential energy of '70's cinema. The opening "On Broadway" segment is dazzlingly mounted and cut (and features the hilarious exchange "Fuck him, he never picks me!" / "Honey, I did fuck him, and he never picks me either!"), and that's just the great beginning to a film that captures both the excitement and grit of the musical theater world about as well as any movie I've seen. And the other musical numbers are pretty wonderful, too, from the amusingly bizarre "Air-otica" number to my favorite moment in the film, "Everything Old is New Again," which so beautifully captures the normal family life that Joe Gideon only experiences in fleeting moments. The movie is quintessential Fosse -- sizzlingly choreographed, full of exciting stylistic engagement with the film medium, and deeply cynical. And I guess I don't find the ending the train wreck that others do -- it definitely goes on too long, but I think Roy Scheider's descent into madness/death features one memorably mounted number after another, and it's full of such wild ambition that I have to admire it. I'm even disappointed that, despite really admiring all three of Fosse's nominations, I end up voting against all of them simply because I like other movies more.

It may be that I got to Apocalypse Now after it had become an officially great movie, but I found it a pretty overwhelming experience. From a script standpoint, it's fascinating to see how Coppola took Heart of Darkness and refashioned it for Vietnam, keeping elements that underscore the war as a type of imperialist endeavor but packaging them into a new narrative that feels bracingly fresh. And though I think the first two Godfathers are better films overall, Apocalypse Now might represent Coppola's greatest visual triumph, as it's full of striking images that have become hugely iconic (the opening explosion set to "This is the End," the Ride of the Valkyries helicopter attack, the soldiers surfing, the terrifying shot of Brando's head emerging from the water). The central narrative is engrossing and unsettling, and as Martin Sheen gets deeper and deeper into the jungle, the film becomes more and more a hallucinogenic nightmare. I do agree that at times the movie overreaches, but, as with The Deer Hunter last year, I tend to have such great enthusiasm for films that just go for broke like this, with storytelling that feels so urgent and images that genuinely dazzle. I've never seen the Redux version -- I know there are those who think it improves upon the theatrical cut, and those who think it becomes needlessly drawn out -- and perhaps at some point I'll get around to seeing that expanded version. But I tend to think the '79 version never needed much improvement, and it gets my votes as Best Picture and Director this year.

[Mister Tee]

I have mixed feelings about 1979 and the Oscar race that year. First, I thought it was a bountiful year -- there were as many films I liked as in any year this decade. But, as I noted in a previous thread, they were of a different sort than those of, say, 1974. With a few exceptions, the revolutionary spirit that had been dominant since 1967 wasn't present; alot of this year's better movies were less challenging, more parochial -- even a bit domesticated. Whether by happenstance or not, this coincided with societal trends: the protestors from the 60s were by and large settling down and raising families, and their concerns were changing. The decade that followed, as a result, produced far fewer interesting films.

Sticking to 1979: it was, as I say, a bountiful year -- I can cite maybe 20 movies at least worth seeing. But such years often yield disappointing Oscar results, when personal favorites fail to make the cut. And, for me, no disappointment in this entire decade matched my dismay when Manhattan failed to make the best picture or director list. I think Manhattan is one of the half dozen best movies of the 70s -- as great an advance over Annie Hall as Annie Hall had been over Love and Death, and for me still the peak of Woody Allen's career, the moment when he most perfectly balanced insight with laugh-out-loud-humor. His story is tough-minded but tender -- driven by characters who make stupid, self-defeating decisions, yet remain compelling and even sympathetic. Woody himself never felt so perfectly integrated into one of his films -- his Isaac blends with the other characters seamlessly. Diane Keaton gives a splendid, risky performance -- tossing aside her usual loveablity, playing someone far different from Annie Hall (or almost any other role she's ever played). And Mariel Hemingway gives a pitch-perfect portrait of ungainly adolescence -- every moment rings as authentically unpolished. The script is full of wonderful lines, even throwaway ones ("You should be going out with guys named Scooter and Biff"), often in the midst of scenes that bring one close to tears (like the break-up over the milk shake, and the finale). The physical production is splendid -- Gordon Willis' ravishing, shockingly overlooked cinematography, and the glorious Gershwin score. And the film ends with one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking scenes in movie history: Woody arrives at Tracy's building, and we see his falling face, as the opening strains of "They're writing songs of love, but not for me" play and the shot of Hemingway with her bags packed appears. This was cinematic nirvana for me. Manhattan was so easily the best film of 1979 that choosing among even other worthy candidates is playing a secondary game. And there was no other time that Woody more emphatically deserved best director.

Descending to the merely good films: Being There is the other big miss in the best picture category; I think it's Hal Ashby's most fully successful film, if not his deepest. I'd also advocate for The Black Stallion -- one of the most visually stunning movies you'll ever see, and, for much of the way, a compelling narrative. And The China Syndrome is a solid thriller-with-content that could have made the line-up with little argument.

And, to expand on my claim of how many simply worthy films there were that year, though I wouldn't push for Oscar attention for any of these, I think most people would enjoy 10, The Wanderers, North Dallas Forty, Starting Over, Rich Kids, Murder by Decree, The Warriors, The In-Laws, Hair, Dracula, The Seduction of Joe Tynan, Escape from Alcatraz, Life of Brian, The Onion Field, The Marriage of Maria Braun, Peppermint Soda, Going in Style, The Silent Partner, Time After Time, and, hell, The Muppet Movie. There are some recent years where I haven't gone to that many movies, let alone enjoyed them all.

Now, back to the nominees, and the sorry news that the directors' branch befouled its lofty reputation by deciding that Eduoard Molinaro's direction of La Cage aux Folles was more deserving than Woody Allen's. This nomination was a triumph of the Never on Sunday/A Man and a Woman "It was foreign and made alot of money, so the directors have to nominate it" bloc. La Cage was never much with critics, but it kept drawing audiences month after month. When I finally got around to it, I couldn't stand it: I found its humor sub-sitcom, the performances broad as the side of a barn. (When we left the movie, my friend said to me "You liked it more than I did; I heard you laugh once") In the years since, of course, the film has spawned a cottage industry, with a long-running (and oft-revived) musical, and Mike Nichols' Americanized gloss. I found those versions marginally more tolerable, but the story was and remains vapid; that the writers and directors at the Academy chose to honor it here over many better films is a source of pure agita for me.

Apart from that, I like the slate the Academy chose well enough. The order in which I discuss them shouldn't be taken too seriously, since I find them mostly on par with one another.

I've never understood Magilla's violent animus toward All That Jazz. I have my own issues with the film, but they're confined to the latter (final half hour) portion of the film. Prior to that, I think it's Fosse in fine form. The opening auditions are wonderful ("the real Chorus Line", as people said at the time); the rehearsal atmosphere perfectly captured; Scheider's uncanny impersonation of Fosse fascinating to watch, even when he's being a son of a bitch; and the intimate moments, as between father and daughter in dance instruction, touching. Also, the early musical numbers are beautifully rendered -- my favorite the "Everything Old Is New Again" birthday tribute. I do think the film goes off the deep end in the final reel -- dropping the narrative entirely for one surreal number after another, ending in the shot of the body bag being zipped, with Merman's "Show Business" on the soundtrack a sledgehammer attempt at irony. I'm not sure what I wanted from the film's wrap-up, but that wasn't it. Nevertheless, the film had so much to offer along the way that I found this flaw, though major, not entirely disqualifying. However, it does prevent my voting for the film.

Norma Rae is the kind of movie I end up praising for the things it's not. It's a standard liberal social issue movie, but it's not strident: it doesn't feature drooling villains, and doesn't make its union advocates saints. It also doesn't treat the rural environment with condescension, as far too many liberal films do. It manages to create a relationship between Field and Ron Leibman that doesn't devolve into routine romance -- in fact, it enables Field to pursue a different romance even while working side-by-side with Leibman. The film's strongest feature remains the Sally Field performance -- a fierce, unsentimental, warts-and-all portrait that is still her best work as an actress. This for me makes it add up to a solid movie -- I have really nothing negative to say about it -- but it's not one about which I get especially excited.

Apocalypse Now, as I've mentioned in other threads, is another film whose reputation has grown in the years since its release -- to some degree because Roger Ebert, a champion at the time, kept hold of the megaphone and promoted it relentlessly. The film was always seen as an impressive, ambitious effort, and most critics at the time praised the trip downriver, full of foreboding and gripping, visually exciting scenes. But widespread feeling was that the film collapsed when it reached its destination: that what happened when they reached Brando's compound didn't meet the expectations built up along the way, and the finale (not to mention Brando's performance) was kind of silly. The film's technical pyrotechnics I think may also have helped it sit fondly in the memories of many. In fact, partly because I didn't vote for him for either Godfather, and partly because the film is the mostly visually striking of those nominated, I've voted for Coppola here for best director. But the film's shortcomings to me remain pretty glaring, so I can't vote for it for best film.

There's a scene in Kramer vs. Kramer where Dustin Hoffman is frantically searching the want ads for a job. He's sitting there wearing a tie and jacket... something that, though this might be hard to understand today, disheartened me. This was Dustin Hoffman, The Graduate; the avatar of 60s rebellion -- a rebellion that, on some level, included rebellion against wearing a tie (or cutting our hair). That he was, in effect "surrendering to the man" here is symbolic of the issues I have with Kramer vs. Kramer. The movie is certainly splendidly realized -- full of beautifully genuine moments, acted with grace by two of the greatest film performers of the last half century (with a terrific kid and Jane Alexander in stellar support). But the whole thing seemed wrought around such small, specialized stakes -- stakes that were foreign to me as a (still) single man -- that the film seemed to me to epitomize why 1979's movies weren't 70s movies in the truest sense. As much as I liked the details of the film -- and cheered the Oscars to two wonderful performances -- it felt in the end like a modernized version of a 30s mother-love melodrama, not something freshly created. So I withhold my votes in both categories -- though the film's wins didn’t entirely depress me.

Incidentally, I'd add something to what Magilla said about the societal changes the film reflected: it not only dealt with the women who were walking out of marriages... it also covered the men who were developing roles as nurturers. In fact, I'd say the most interesting thing about the film is that it has both characters do what the times prescribed: the woman is "liberated' the man sensitized" -- and, subtextually, suggests the end result is they can't live with one another.

Breaking Away is another example of how even this year's better films were rather domesticated. As a coming-of-age movie, the film doesn't have nearly the scope of American Graffiti; it's just a story of Indiana townies trying to break out (or away, to use the title metaphor) from their limited existence. But the story makes up for what it lacks in originality/imagination with precise detail and wonderfully droll comedy. Dennis Christopher is a solid lead, but even better are his buddies (all of whom -- Stern, Quaid, Haley -- have gone on to decent careers), and best of all are his parents, the nominated Barbara Barrie and the should-have-been-nominated-and-won Paul Dooley, who takes the stock role of the exasperated father and makes it hilarious, and, in the end ("You're not a cutter; I'm a cutter"), enormously touching. It's a measure of how genuine the film is that, while I was watching it, I wasn't 100% sure the guys were going to win their race (today it may seem obvious, but in an era where even Rocky lost his initial fight, there was room for doubt) -- which made the finale that much more exhilarating. Breaking away isn't Manhattan -- no nominee is -- but, of what remains, I give it my best picture vote with relative enthusiasm.

[mlrg]

voted for Kramer and Fosse

[Big Magilla]

Fixed, but I can't do anything about the one vote for Manhattan which is now a vote for Norma Rae. The voter can change his/her vote if he/she so wishes.

[Precious Doll]

Can the poll be updated to reflect the correct nominees? (i.e. Norma Rae and not Manhattan).

[anonymous1980]

I definitely disagree with Big Magilla on All That Jazz.

[The Original BJ]

Um...just because we all wish a certain movie had been nominated doesn't mean it actually was, Magilla.

[Big Magilla]

Others can lament 1977 and 1978 all they want, but for me 1979 was the worst Oscar year of the decade.

There were only two films I really wanted to see in the Best Picture race. One made it, one didn't. The one that did was the sleeper hit Breaking Away, the one that didn't was Hair, which was either ten years too late or twenty years too soon. Audiences of the day mostly ignored it while embracing Bob Fosse's smoke-filled open heart surgery musical, All That Jazz.

Breaking Away was one of the most joyful coming-of-age films made up to that time, one which hasn't really been topped since. Hair with its innovative choreography and stronger story line than the stage musical was the best stage-to-screen musical since Cabaret and would remain so until at least Chicago if not Les Misérables.

Although I was pulling for Breaking Away until the last envelope was opened, I really didn't expect it to win over the film of the moment, Kramer vs. Kramer which was then about a relatively new social phenomenon, women leaving their husbands and children to find fulfillment outside of marriage. Although it was structured like a made-for-TV movie it had star power in spades with Dustin Hoffman, Meryl Streep and Jane Alexander at the top of their game.

Norma Rae, which also plays like a made-for-TV drama, had Sally Field's as-expected Best Actress winning turn to bolster it into the top five over the likes of such superior works as Manhattan; Being There and The China Syndrome, but it wasn't going to win, especially with its director, Martin Ritt, left out of the running.

Apocalypse Now is, for me, two-thirds of a great movie. I find it a flawed, albeit noble effort with things to like - Vittorio Storaro's cinematography, the performances of Martin Sheen and Robert Duvall and things to cringe at - Dennis Hopper's appearance, all of Marlon Brando's scenes.

My choice for director of the year is Milos Forman, whose direction of Hair is more memorable than of either of his Oscar winners (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; Amadeus) but he isn't among the actual nominees, making Peter Yates my easy choice for Breaking Away with winner Robert Benton (Kramer vs. Kramer) the only other one of the actual nominees who I think worthy of consideration. Coppola rates a nomination for his two-thirds of a great film, but not a win. Woody Allen (Manhattan) should be there instead of Edouad Molinaro (La Cage aux Folles) and Forman most certainly should be there in place of Fosse (All That Jazz).