Over at Awards Daily, Sasha Stone forwards an interesting theory : “There is a school of thought where Oscar is concerned that goes like this: You can win if you can give them rock hard erections.” The latest in said awards trend, it would seem, is the February cover spread in GQ in which My Week with Marilyn ‘s Michelle Williams poses in lingerie as the magazine’s headline screams “Who Knew Michelle Williams Had This Body?” It’s a far cry from Williams’ perpetual pixie-mom persona, the one she broke out in her Golden Globe acceptance speech last weekend. But is her skin-baring the key to getting that coveted Oscar nomination/win ? Behold the press-shy Williams with a pseudo-Marilyn bedroom coif, selling sex with the vulnerable eyes of a deer. A very sexy deer, mind you (images via Just Jared ): Now, the PR move prompts a few questions: Is this really a historic, proven trend among female Oscar nominees? (See: Kate Winslet ‘s nude Vanity Fair spread, evidence in Stone’s theory, which may or may not have helped convince Oscar voters that her turn in The Reader was worth honoring.) Why won’t Meryl Streep (or Viola Davis, as Stone notes) take the same tack? And how far does a spread focusing on Williams’ sexiness and bare body help further the sentiment that she’s a great actress who turned in one of the best performances of the year? (Have the GQ readers who’d bite at this headline even seen My Week with Marilyn ?) I’m partly skeptical because the GQ cover isn’t particularly great, taking nothing away from Williams’ loveliness. My favorite image of the bunch above is the mirror shot, which allows that great face to convey real vulnerability and fragility — as if Williams had a moment of clarity, standing in front of a photographer in her see-through nightie, realizing that life as a would-be Oscar honoree on the campaign trail isn’t so wildly different from that of the doomed Monroe, compulsively and self-consciously putting on a pout for the cameras. Yes, sex sells. But does it really win Oscars? We shall see… [ To clarify: The Oscar nominations are announced Jan. 24; member voting closes Feb. 21. ] [ Awards Daily , Just Jared ]
The predictions are made , the tables are set, the booze is on ice, and host Ricky Gervais’s knives are sharpened. The only thing left to do at the 69th Golden Globe Awards is to give the damn things away. And, of course, follow along with Movieline’s live commentary. Click through to monitor the evening’s big winners and to chime in with your thoughts. Happy Globesgoing! [Scroll past the CoverItLive module for the complete list of film and TV winners.] Movieline’s 2012 Golden Globe Awards Livetweet BEST MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA : TBA BEST MOTION PICTURE – COMEDY OR MUSICAL : TBA BEST DIRECTOR – MOTION PICTURE : TBA BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA : TBA BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA : TBA BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A MOTION PICTURE – COMEDY OR MUSICAL : Michelle Williams, My Week With Marilyn BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A MOTION PICTURE – COMEDY OR MUSICAL BEST ANIMATED FEATURE FILM : The Adventures of Tintin BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM : A Separation BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A MOTION PICTURE : Octavia Spencer, The Help BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A MOTION PICTURE : Christopher Plummer, Beginners BEST SCREENPLAY – MOTION PICTURE : Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris BEST ORIGINAL SCORE – MOTION PICTURE : Ludovic Bource, The Artist BEST ORIGINAL SONG – MOTION PICTURE : “Masterpiece,” W.E. BEST TELEVISION SERIES — DRAMA : Homeland BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A TELEVISION SERIES — DRAMA : Claire Danes, Homeland BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A TELEVISION SERIES — DRAMA : Kelsey Grammer, Boss BEST TELEVISION SERIES — COMEDY OR MUSICAL : TBA BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A TELEVISION SERIES — COMEDY OR MUSICAL : Laura Dern, Enlightened BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A TELEVISION SERIES — COMEDY OR MUSICAL : Matt LeBlanc, Episodes BEST MINI-SERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION : Downton Abbey BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A MINI-SERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION : Kate Winslet, Mildred Pierce BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A MINI-SERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION : Idris Elba, Luther BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A SERIES, MINI-SERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION : Jessica Lange, American Horror Story BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A SERIES, MINI-SERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION : Peter Dinklage, Game of Thrones
Last year, Sundance It Girl Elizabeth Olsen had two notable films debut in Park City. One was Sean Durkin ‘s Martha Marcy May Marlene , which earned Olsen raves and new fans for her central turn as a paranoid cult survivor. Now comes Olsen’s second Sundance ’11 pic, Silent House , in which poor Olsen finds herself spooked by bumps in the night and possibly more insidious forces while stuck in a darkened abandoned house. Was it really shot in a single continuous take, as co-directors Chris Kentis and Laura Lau claim? Is there any young actress quite as watchable in moments of terror as the younger Olsen? Watch the trailer and let us ponder these questions together. Silent House is a remake of the 2010 Uruguayan horror film La Casa Muda , which played the Cannes Film Festival and also used the one-take gimmick. As far as trailers go, this is how you do it. The “inspired by real events” angle has been done to death in modern horror (see: The Devil Inside ), but using Texas Chainsaw -style snapshot editing and voice-over makes it feel both fresh and retro at once. And then there’s the captivating power of Elizabeth Olsen’s face, fascinating even in terror, lit gorgeously within the constraints of a set that seems to rely on practical lighting. And hey! Her real-time ordeal lasts only 88 minutes. When’s the last time a movie promised not to take up too much of your day upfront? Verdict: Can’t wait to shiver and squirm along with Lizzie Olsen on March 9. In real time!
It takes at least two things to make a terrific documentary: A great subject and a light but deft touch. Susanne Rostock’s Sing Your Song , which traces the career of Harry Belafonte with a specific focus on the singer and actor’s social activism, certainly has the former — it’s the latter that’s lacking. But if nothing else, Sing Your Song works as a testament to Belafonte’s drive and dedication to causes well outside the usual goals of simply making money. If you don’t know much about Belafonte beyond the fact that he was that great-looking guy who had a hit in the ’50s with “The Banana Boat Song,” Rostock’s documentary is as good a place as any to start. Sing Your Song is simply conceived and constructed: Rostock (making her directing debut, though she’s been editing documentaries for years) uses on-camera interviews with Belafonte, as well as voice-over narration, to frame a selection of television and news clips and still photographs. The story doesn’t need much embellishment: Belafonte was born in Harlem in 1927, though he spent a portion of his childhood with his grandmother, in Jamaica. He served in the Navy during World War II, and afterward became involved, along with his friend Sidney Poitier, with the American Negro Theater. Belafonte also studied acting at the New School, along with Poitier, Marlon Brando, Walter Matthau and Bernie Schwartz (the last better known as Tony Curtis). He began singing in clubs in New York in the early 1950s. And when he saw Huddie Ledbetter on stage one evening, he was inspired to start researching folk music himself, not just purely American folk music, but that of other countries as well — his 1956 album Calypso was the first LP to sell more than 1 million copies. ( Sing Your Song includes a TV clip of ’50s talk-show host Steve Allen passing one framed gold record after another into Belafonte’s arms.) Belafonte appears to have become a social activist without even knowing it, inspiring outrage in an extremely segregated America without even trying. In Robert Rossen’s 1957 Island in the Sun, his character’s romance with a white woman (played by Joan Fontaine) spurred controversy, though it also boosted ticket sales. Racism was still a huge problem — perhaps even a bigger problem — in 1968, when Petula Clark, performing on television with Belafonte, dared to take his arm. The outcry from advertisers and the public was deafening. Sing Your Song suggests that all of these experiences helped shape Belafonte’s political sensibility, goading him into action instead of just accepting injustice. Rostock includes interviews with significant figures of the civil rights movement, among them Julian Bond, who explains how much it meant to see Belafonte on television in the 1950s: “You’d call your neighbor – ‘Colored on TV!’ It was so rare.” And Belafonte himself explains how he became drawn to the civil rights cause: Martin Luther King Jr. set up a meeting with him, assuring him it wouldn’t take long. Four hours later, Belafonte emerged, ready to do anything necessary to get the point across to the rest of the nation. Sing Your Song is most potent in dealing with Belafonte’s activism during the ’50s and ’60s, becoming murkier and more disorganized when Rostock heads into the Watergate era. It’s not that Belafonte’s work became less visible or less significant at that point, but Rostock presents those years as a blurry laundry list, whirring from Belafonte’s efforts to end hunger in Ethiopia to his anti-Apartheid activities to his involvement in the turmoil in Haiti in the mid-1990s. By the last third, Sing Your Song begins to feel more like a promotional film — promoting activism, if nothing else — than a well-rounded portrait. Still, it’s valuable for both the vintage footage Rostock has collected and for the observations provided by Belafonte, who is as charming, handsome and persuasive in his mid-80s as he ever was. When he speaks about his recent efforts to end gang violence in Los Angeles, he says, “I’m still looking to fix these things I thought we fixed 50 years ago.” Retirement, apparently, isn’t an option. Follow Stephanie Zacharek on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
Savvier and less cartoonish than those posters of Mark Wahlberg with stacks of cash taped to his famous torso might have you believe, Contraband is a remake of the 2008 Icelandic smuggling thriller Reykjavík-Rotterdam, directed by the original’s star, Baltasar Kormákur. The action’s been transported to New Orleans-Panama City, the goods upgraded from bootlegged liquor to counterfeit cash, and the whole enterprise daubed with some Hollywood gloss, but it’s still an obligingly tense, scruffy addition to the one-last-crime genre. Even for the now-retired “Lennon and McCartney of smuggling,” as a character declares Wahlberg’s Chris Farraday and his friend and former partner Sebastian Abney (Ben Foster), the gig is still about finding places to stash contraband while working on freighters, which no matter how it’s spun is going to be far down the ladder of bad-boy glamour. And despite betrayals, domestic dramas and escalating plot twists that land Chris in the middle of a Panamanian firefight with only a few minutes to get back to the vessel on which he came, Contraband doesn’t short-change the analog ingenuity and group effort required to be a competent smuggler, making the film as much an interesting peek at shipping in the underbelly of the shipping world as one in which Wahlberg shoves a gun up Giovanni Ribisi’s nose. Chris is a second-generation smuggler whose father, Bud (William Lucking), is serving time for a job gone wrong. He’s married to Kate (Kate Beckinsale), they have two sons, and he’s gone straight by starting an apparently successful home security business while Sebastian attends AA meetings and is overseeing a construction job. (Aside from a few music choices and an opening wedding scene, Contraband goes light on local color — probably for the better, given how very un-New Orleans the cast is.) Trouble re-enters the Farradays’ lives by way of Kate’s younger brother Andy (Caleb Landry Jones), who’s forced to dump the ten pounds of cocaine he’d brought with him when the ship he’s on is raided by customs. The drugs were meant for Tim Briggs (Ribisi, who seems to believe himself to be in a different, goofier movie than everyone else on screen), a thug who, in Chris and Sebastian’s absence, has moved up in the scene. Chris assumes Andy’s debts and takes the kid with him on one last run to Panama, where he’ll have to snake in large stacks of fake cash in order to pay off what’s owed and avoid getting into a war with Tim. Sebastian, meanwhile, keeps an eye on Kate and the kids, and begins to give off hints that he’s not as trustworthy as Chris believes. Wahlberg may not seem the tiniest bit Southern, but he’s always played a solid blue-collar action hero, and his Chris comes across as bluff and competent without seeming superheroic, at least in terms of his work — how he and his cohort stay alive through an insane robbery attempt with a Panama City tough guy (Diego Luna) is movie ludicrousness. The need for stability at home, to be around and stick up for one’s family, is the film’s guiding force — there’s never a question that Andy’s problem will become Chris’, but also that Chris will forgive him later for doing something reckless in order to protect Kate. The ship, with its array of old friends and allies on board (among them Lukas Haas, Lucky Johnson and Ólafur Darri Ólafsson) is its own kind of disreputable family, into which Chris easily slips while tweaking his nose at the captain (J.K. Simmons), who oversees things like a surly camp counselor who knows trouble is going on behind his back but can’t quite pin down who’s responsible. Contraband layers on the tension as Chris tries to navigate complication on top of complication during the small window he has at port to secure his illicit cargo, get it on board and stow it away unnoticed, and making the situation worse is the addition of a new delivery of coke. (Chris’ aversion to importing drugs, on which he doesn’t elaborate, is one of a few spots in which the film feels like it’s unnecessarily soft-pedaling itself.) The digressions do allow for a cute conclusion which suggests the most valuable cargo is not always self-evident. While the action setpieces, including the aforementioned over-the-top heist shoot-out and a later race to save a character from an unpleasant end, are competently done; it’s actually the process and the pleasure with which Chris returns to it that remain in memory after the guns and ill-advised face tattoos fade. “I love it, but don’t tell your sister,” he scolds Andy after the boy catches him grinning when he, yes, untapes the cash from under his shirt, a man content with the life he’s made for himself, but finally, temporarily, back where he truly belongs. Follow Alison Willmore on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
The enduring saga of Margaret — three years in the making, six years in the editing, one week in the theatrical showing, and finally rescued from oblivion by a cabal of devotees best known by their #TeamMargaret brand — presses on this week with news that Kenneth Lonergan’s embattled epic is finally returning to theaters in Los Angeles. Great! But perhaps just as interesting as how this complements the film’s ongoing revival in New York City is how it shores up a better-late-than-never awards campaign by distributor Fox Searchlight. Karina Longworth, who chose Margaret as her favorite film of 2011 (a distinction not too far from critic Alison Willmore’s own here at Movieline ), reports via LA Weekly that Cinefamily will launch a new engagement of the film starting Friday. The run starts at one week but could be extended based on demand — an option exercised three times now by the proprietors of New York’s Cinema Village , where tomorrow Margaret enters its fourth week on the comeback trail. The grassroots effort to get Margaret not only seen but outwardly acclaimed represents one of the season’s more inspired awards crusades, and one with which Searchlight is now playing along. Well, sort of, anyway: Speaking with Longworth, a studio publicist confirmed previous reports that Margaret screeners have been distributed Academy-wide — for what that’s worth, particularly with Oscar nomination ballots due Friday by 5 p.m. and the publicist denying that Searchlight’s “strategy” for the film had changed. But really, does the awards noise even matter in light of fans willfully prying a troubled mainstream film out from under a stubborn distributor’s heavy haunches? This is something to celebrate! Do them and their efforts proud and go see this thing, already. [ LA Weekly ]
Let’s be honest: Nobody watches the People’s Choice Awards for the actual awards. As awards season proper kicks off it’s a populist popularity contest, a loose warm-up to this weekend’s Golden Globes, a pit stop on the tour of red carpet photo ops for celebrities and TV stars and actors with upcoming movies to pimp. But events like this give us lovely little gifts, random social snapshots that peek behind the curtain of celebrity. Last night they gave us Hunger Games tingles. Cute coupledom. And, perhaps best of all, Robert Pattinson having a ball with Betty White . Who was the genius People’s Choice Awards planner that seated Pattinson next to the erstwhile Golden Girl in the front row? What did the Twilight star and the bubbly octogenarian have to talk about during commercial breaks? (Perhaps this ?) Could the casualwear-clad Pattinson have looked any more like a kid tagging along with his grandma to a fancy dinner for grownups? WHAT DID BETTY THINK OF RPATTZ’S NEW HAIRCUT?? I kid, I kid. It’s the single most adorable photo to come from last night and I love thinking that the two became instant besties and exchanged cell numbers on the spot. This stuff doesn’t happen at the Oscars, folks. Help me celebrate this moment in time with your captioning skills in the comments below! Photo: Getty Images
The idea of seeing Queen Latifah and Dolly Parton in a movie together, not to mention a movie about a gospel choir, is a particular kind of heaven. Latifah is a radiant performer capable of elevating even the most mundane material to a level of charm and grace unachievable by most mere mortals. And Parton, aside from having one of the sweetest and most haunting voices in all of country music, is a firecracker presence by herself — if you could bottle force of will in a perfume bottle, you couldn’t name it anything but Dolly. But whatever Latifah and Parton might have achieved together in that mythical heavenly ideal, it’s just not coming together in this lifetime – or at least not in Joyful Noise , a well-intentioned, pleasant-enough picture that shoots off in too many directions to ever ignite. Latifah plays Vi Rose Hill, a sturdy, no-nonsense family woman who inherits the leadership of her church choir after the death of its beloved director (played, in just a few tiny scenes, by Kris Kristofferson). But this is a very small town we’re talking about — Pacashau, Georgia, pop. 233, or something like that — and petty rivalries and resentments abound. It turns out that G.G. Sparrow (Parton), who has contributed heaps of money to the church and who’s also a leading (and undeniably shapely) figure in its Divinity Church Choir, thinks she should inherit the mantle. She has some new ideas for the group, which she wants to implement before the all-important National Joyful Noise Competition. Vi Rose, a traditionalist, likes to do things the old-fashioned way. The two women start trading insults and play-fighting even before it becomes apparent that G.G.’s rapscallion grandson, Randy (Jeremy Jordan), who has just drifted into town from New York City, is madly attracted to Vi Rose’s daughter, Olivia (Keke Palmer), the choir’s obvious rising young star. Actually, there’s a new conflict every five minutes in Joyful Noise : It’s pretty much all writer-director Todd Graff ( Bandslam ) can do to tamp each one down, Whac-a-Mole style, before another one pops up. Vi Rose doesn’t much approve of Randy, until he takes her pop-music-loving, Asperger’s-afflicted son, Walter (Dexter Darden), under his wing. (Walter’s favorite song is the Left Banke’s Walk Away Renee , and if you’re going to have just one favorite, that’s not a bad one to have.) Randy, you see, is an ace pianist and arranger, and he also has some ideas for spiffing up the choir’s material and moves. Meanwhile, Olivia starts acting up, as young ‘uns will. And don’t look now, but a rival for her affections (Paul Woolfolk) is just about to show up at the local quarry, where Randy and Walter have gone to practice their vocals (it makes a handy echo chamber). That could be big trouble. And yet, somehow, it’s really not. There’s so much going on in Joyful Noise that there doesn’t seem to be much time for anyone to actually sing. Still, the gang manages to squeeze some in. Many of the numbers are pop songs reimagined as gospel material, some making the transition with ease (like Sly Stone’s “I Want to Take You Higher”) and others (“Maybe I’m Amazed”) that, no matter how you slice them — or tweak the lyrics — still sound like secular love songs rather than hymns of praise. One of the loveliest numbers is Latifah’s spare rendition of “Fix Me, Jesus”: It’s plain and unvarnished, in a way that too much of Joyful Noise isn’t. Parton sings a duet with Kristofferson (he returns from the grave specifically for this purpose), called “From Here to the Moon and Back,” which is pretty enough in its serene, wistful way. But even though there’s so much going on in Joyful Noise , there still isn’t much for its two stars to do other than trade one-liners masquerading as small-town insults. (Observing G.G.’s superblond tousle of hair, Vi Rose snickers, “What, you’re worried you’re not gonna be seen from space?”) Parton and Latifah are both high-spirited all right, and their sparring is reasonably fun to watch. But Parton’s face, as those of us who have loved her for years, is not what it used to be, and looking at it is a bit disconcerting. Latifah, on the other hand, looks as luminous as ever. As performers, the two clearly have a great deal of respect and admiration for each other, and that’s the motor that drives Joyful Noise . But movies need more than just good mechanics, or even just good chemistry, to bloom. They always need at least a scrap of divine intervention. And on that count, Joyful Noise could still use a little fixing from Jesus. Follow Stephanie Zacharek on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
This just in: “(Beverly Hills, Calif.) January 10, 2012 – Relativity Media announced today that it will promote the Bandito Brothers’ upcoming intense action-thriller Act of Valor , which stars an elite group of active-duty Navy SEALs in a fictionalized composite of actual events, during NBC’s nationally televised coverage of Super Bowl XLVI on February 5, 2012. Four 30-second unique Act of Valor commercials, featuring exclusive content, will run throughout the program including two spots that will air during the pre-game, one spot in game during the fourth quarter and one spot in the post-game show.” MUST CREDIT MOVIELINE. [Press release]
The American Society of Cinematographers recognized a typically diverse, eclectic gang of shooters this morning, singling out cinematographers from four countries — including two first-time nominees — in revealing its 2012 awards nominations. Congratulations to Guillaume Schiffman ( The Artist ), Jeff Cronenweth ( The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo ), Robert Richardson ( Hugo ), Hoyte van Hoytema ( Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy ) and Emmanuel Lubezki ( The Tree of Life ) on their nods from the esteemed trade group, which will announce its winner on Feb. 12. Last year’s winner, Inception cinematographer Wally Pfister, continued on to win an Academy Award. The news is arguably another blow for War Horse , which has now been ignored by three awards bodies of varying importance — the ASC, the Directors Guild and the Art Directors Guild — in the last week. But! Steven Spielberg’s film did receive a fantastic illustrated review , so there is that. High-fives to all! [ ASC ]
