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Under discussion:

Married to the Mob  (1988)

Melvin and Howard  (1980)

Swing Shift  (1984)

Philadelphia  (1993)

Havoc  (2005)

Brokeback Mountain  (2005)

For Your Consideration  (2006)

The Devil Wears Prada  (2006)

Tropic Thunder  (2008)

Frozen River  (2008)

Happy-Go-Lucky  (2008)

Rachel Getting Married  (2008)

In a crowded year for Best Actress contention, Anne Hathaway could be the only first-timer to receive an Oscar nomination in the lead category, possibly going up against mainstays such as her Devil Wears Prada costar Meryl Streep and Kate Winslet, as well as the less-nominated vets Nicole Kidman and Kristen Scott Thomas. Her main competition for the outsider, dark horse position is Frozen River’s Melissa Leo (who may benefit from her film’s initiatory screener campaign even though River’s theatrical release was early and hardly noticed), and Happy-Go-Lucky’s Sally Hawkins, whose film just debuted to favorable reviews citing her brilliant (as in talented and bright) performance. But Hathaway is sure to be the victor –– even though her performance in Rachel Getting Married is hardly deserving of such an honor.

The Oscar buzz for Hathaway has been high for weeks now, enough that the actress apparently joked about it in her Saturday Night Live monologue earlier this month (I thought of it as less a current-year expectation than a general career goal, but it’s made Risky Biz Blog’s Steven Zeitchik compare Hathaway to Catherine O’Hara’s buzz-afflicted character in For Your Consideration). The fact that she’s a well-known movie star should make Hathaway’s buzz continually more reportable by the press and more noticeable by both the public and the voters, which gives her some advantage over Leo and Hawkins in terms of cultural consciousness.

As much as the Academy loves Streep and Winslet (and Kidman and Cate Blanchett), and as much as voters like an Oscar comeback from a relatively M.I.A. past nominee like Scott Thomas (see Julie Christie, Sissy Spacek, Ellen Burstyn, etc.), the Academy really seems to have a thing for young, pretty, popular actresses who suddenly find their (probably once-in-a-lifetime) Oscar-worthy role. Hathaway will follow the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow, Winona Ryder, Elizabeth Shue, Helen Hunt, Renee Zellweger, Reese Witherspoon, Ellen Page, Charlize Theron and Keira Knightley (not to mention all of those in the Supporting Actress category), some of who have actually gone on to more nominations and therefore proven themselves deserving of their original transition into Oscar territory. However, for Hathaway it isn’t simply about box office beauties who take a pay cut and/or go bad (or at least more adult), as Tom O’Neill claims. If it were that easy, Hathaway should have been nominated for Havoc or Brokeback Mountain. Instead it’s more to do with the Oscar-favored tradition of recognizing the serious turn from the beauty-stripped Hollywood princess. And it helps Hathaway that Rachel Getting Married is additionally a strong film with countless strong performances, among which she stands out the most.

But does she stand out because she’s that much better or because she’s that much more famous? To call Hathaway’s costars in Rachel comparative unknowns is a bit of an understatement. Plus, there’s the matter of Hathaway standing out because her character selfishly butts her way into attention-seeking situations. Yet despite this trait in her character and the basic plot of the film, a less-celebrated actress might have seemed more a part of the ensemble while still being the focal point of the story. It’s easy to notice Hathaway’s performance when you’re constantly reminded, thanks to star status, that it’s Hathaway as you’ve never seen her before.

The sudden display of Oscar-worthy talent is what needs to be questioned, because oftentimes a surprisingly great turn by an otherwise fine actress is more the handiwork of the director than the actor or actress. Rachel helmer Jonathan Demme has a long history of nudging merely decent actors toward a nomination. Some of his one-hit-wonders include Mary Steenburgen (Melvin and Howard), Christine Lahti (Swing Shift) and Dean Stockwell (Married to the Mob), and, of course, he’s the guy who first really convinced us that Tom Hanks could be a serious actor with Philadelphia. Demme shows his talent as an actor’s director best with Rachel, as the majority of the film’s cast could just as well receive Oscar buzz if only they had more familiar names or faces. Even Oscar vet Debra Winger might have had a better shot at another nomination if she were more recognizable (seeing Rachel at a matinee filled with old folks had me hearing the “is that…?” question almost as much as I heard it during Tropic Thunder). It’s actually a bit of a shock that relative newcomer Rosemarie DeWitt, who plays the film’s titular role, appears to be gaining heat in the Supporting Actress race, though that category’s major contenders include a number of unfamiliar names, according to In Contention’s Oscar Prediction Chart.

Without Demme’s direction, Hathaway might not have delivered the goods, as possibly evidenced in her lack of Oscar notice for Brokeback Mountain. Ang Lee is hardly an actor’s director, and yet Hathaway’s three main costars in that film (Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal and Michelle Williams) were each nominated by the Academy. Hathaway also stood out in that film, mostly as miscast and out-of-her-element, but she was extremely overshadowed performance-wise. A year later, she was upstaged in Prada by Streep, who went on to receive her 14th nomination. Now, with Rachel, she’s the upstager, but it’ll only be enough to get her into the pool of nominees.  Up against Streep and the other more experienced contenders, her celebrity alone won’t help her actually win.

You might have seen the “Don’t Vote” PSA featuring Hollywood celebrities ranging from Leonardo DiCaprio to Jonah Hill attempting to use reverse psychology in an effort to get lazy, apathetic Americans to register and then take part in this year’s presidential election. It’s a bit long for something so urgent and potentially influential, but it’s cool that so many unrelated famous people came together for something so important. Anyway, the guys at MagicHugs.com have now re-edited some of the footage from that PSA to create their own campaign regarding the films of Nicolas Cage. And while I doubt Leo or even Jonah appreciate being made to appear so critical of their peer’s career choices, it’s pretty funny. The only thing I don’t understand, though, is if I’m supposed to come away thinking I should watch Nic Cage movies. After all, the other “Don’t” PSA is meant to actually get me to vote.

Also related to the “Don’t Vote” PSA is another political ad featuring another movie star who represents that apathetic young American demographic the other celebrities are speaking out to. Joseph Gordon-Levitt has created his own little commercial for Barack Obama, a candidate he considers to be that rare politician who isn’t “bullshit.” Levitt claims not to be a Democrat or Republican, and he admits he’s never really cared about anybody running for president before, but he just had to tell us that he’s “feeling pretty strongly on this one.”

I wonder which ad will speak most to the typically indifferent, the one from the famous people who simply want people to get up and vote, no matter how potentially uninformed they may be, or the one from an apolitical peer who wants others to notice a specific hopeful’s distinction.

[via Anne Thompson]

Under discussion:

This is England  (2007)

Filth and Wisdom  (2008)

Not to diminish any of her myriad accomplishments (and I will never, ever begrudge her creative partnership with David Fincher), but it seems inarguable that history will remember Madonna most vividly as a cultural vampire: a supernatural creature (who, if not verifiably immortal, then certainly in hard-earned denial about her age), she’s sustained herself by sucking the lifeblood other artists, images, trends, cultural movements. From the punkish red scrawl of the opening credits forward (Is dotted with white Xs), Madonna’s feature directorial debut Filth and Wisdom seems of a piece with her previous work, in that it’s in some way about Madonna herself hiding behind borrowed aesthetics.

Madonna has previously namechecked everyone from Godard to Pasolini as an inspiration, but while Filth and Wisdom has traces of the invention via ignorance seen in those auteurs’ early films, that’s where the comparisons end. The influence of Shane Meadows is definitely felt, both as a love letter to the youthful romance of punk rock in poverty in the pocket of a British city, and in the presence of co-star Vicky McClure, late of three Meadows films including This is England. But Madonna gets the bulk of her borrowed essence from her star, Eugene Hutz, lead of gypsy punk band Gogol Bordello. The clumsy brilliance of Filth and Wisdom is the way it wraps material that’s clearly personal to Madonna in the irresistibly goofy trappings of Hutz’ Joe Strummer-of-the-Eastern Bloc persona and performance style. For fans of Hutz and his band, Filth has the makings of an instant music-movie classic. Fortunately for Madonna, whose major misstep as a filmmaker is the compulsion to divide her own personality traits and obsessions equally among her characters, Hutz is so likeable that he attracts a lot of fans at first sight.

Hutz plays A.K., a punk singer who pays his share of the rent in a London flat by moonlighting as a dom to insecure businessmen. He lives with two young ladies, ballerina-turned-unhappy stripper Holly (Holly Weston), who A.K. loves (mostly) from afar, and Juliette (McClure), an androgynously sexy pharmacist who dreams of hopping off to Africa to work with AIDS orphans. Throughout, Madonna references her own past (her ambitous lean years, her discovery that her dancer’s body could function as a “cash box” if (un)dressed appropriately) and present (her Kabbalah fixation, her –– here admittedly partially self-serving –– interest in African AIDS orphans), with a transparency that’s often clunky but always earnest and often endearing.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, as a filmmaker Madonna proves as inept at crafting and shooting dialogue as she has been at speaking it under the direction of others, but she seems extremely comfortable (and is usually successful at) filming bodies in performance to music, whether at the barre or in a dingy rock bar or twirling around a pole. Episodic and light on plot, Filth often feels like a number of music videos stitched together; refreshingly, Madonna seems almost uninterested in using her own music. Other than two “Erotica”-era cues in the strip club (where Holly at one point wears an outfit that looks like a costume from the Girlie Show tour, and elsewhere milks the most out of an easy but irresistable joke involving one of Madonna’s famous consorts), all of the music in film is performed by Hutz and Gogol Bordello. Filth is close enough in structure to a classic music narrative, that its actual lack of narrative weight becomes easy to overlook.

Hutz is so compelling that he’s able to convincingly transmute a good deal of clearly Kabbalah-inspired voiceover into his patented, gypsy exotica. Though whole patches of the script are fuzzy with vague notions of duality that never seem to quite connect to the events of the narrative (the words “filth” and “wisdom” are inserted into Hutz’ monologues liberally, to the point where one gets the feeling that neither means quite what Madonna and co-writer Dan Cadan think they mean), this crack-pot claptrap seems to flow so naturally out of Hutz that it ends up being far less pretentious than you might think. (Less elegantly rendered is the theme that all children suffer abuse of some sort at the hands of a patriarch; “Oh, Father” said about the same with much more grace.) The jury is still out as to whether or not Ms. Ciccone-Ritchie has much to offer the world as a filmmaker, but she does have the, uh, wisdom to make the most out of her star’s natural charisma. Just for creating a vehicle which offers the pleasure of watching Eugene Hutz being Eugene Hutz, she’s done the Kabbalah version of a mitzvah.