Non-Smarmy Romances for Valentine's Day

I have a very low sentimentality threshold. While many others—especially other women, I feel compelled to admit—are cooing over Pretty Woman and its more recent counterparts (Music and Lyrics, for example), I am overdosing on what I consider gag-producing romantic twaddle.

Don’t get me wrong; I love sentiment, as long as it’s not obscured by sentimentality. Here are some of the rare love stories that provide one without the other. Enjoy one this Valentine’s Day.

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Love, Actually (2003)—Excellent ensemble acting and a sharp script turn what sounds like sentimental slop into a romantic romp both uproarious and soul-satisfying. The best among the ten love stories interwoven here: Emma Thompson wondering if her grumpy husband (Alan Rickman) is straying; and Liam Neeson, grieving after his wife’s death, taking his very young son seriously when the kid says he’s fallen in love with a classmate. Even the usually cloying Hugh Grant has some sexy-funny moments as the British Prime minister with a crush on one of his civil servants.



Carrington (1995)—Forget Felix Unger and Oscar Madison … Emma Thompson and Jonathan Pryce play the oddest couple you’re likely ever to see on film. Eccentric artist Dora Carrington loves celebrated author Lytton Strachey, and he loves her, but he’s gay. But despite their inability to enjoy what they call “the physical” with one another, they live together in something like bliss, along with their various lovers. Pryce has by far the showier role, but it’s Thompson who does the tough job of making us see the distinctly unattractive, maddening, and self-centered Strachey through the eyes of her steadfast love.


Intolerable Cruelty (2003)—The Coen brothers work their magic on a hoary film genre, the screwball comedy. As a gold-digger and can’t-lose divorce lawyer, respectively, Catherine Zeta-Jones and George Clooney use their luminous glamour to good effect and handle both physical and verbal comedy nimbly. These stars do the time-honored dance of camouflaging an undeniable attraction better than anyone since Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday.





Truly, Madly, Deeply (1991)—Anthony Minghella went on to fame as director of The English Patient, Cold Mountain, and The Talented Mr. Ripley, but his less-known debut is the gold-standard by which I judge all romances. Juliet Stevenson stars as Nina, in deep mourning after the unexpected loss of her beloved partner, Jamie (Alan Rickman). The supernatural plotline—Jamie returns as a ghost to help Nina cope—plays believably thanks to Minghella’s touching and grounded-in-reality script. Somehow he manages to include heart-wrenching sadness, trenchant political commentary, gorgeous cello music, unselfconscious silliness, Pablo Neruda’s poetry, and a getting-to-know-you scene done while hopping (yes, hopping) along the Thames. To call this “the thinking-person’s Ghost” is to damn this gem with far-too-faint praise.

Amelie (2001) [in French, with subtitles] Audrey Tautou brings her gamine charms to this thoroughly original story of how a kind but shy Parisian waitress finds her true love. Like all of director Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s films, this one is highly colored and visually stunning. The story is both unusually sunny in tone and typically bizarre—a ceramic garden gnome, workers in a porno shop, and an automatic photo machine all figure significantly in the plot. Soaring above the quirky and delightful story is the life-affirming power of Tautou’s perky Amelie, righting past wrongs and bringing joy to her neighbors…and perhaps finding some herself.

Losers Rule: 5 Great Best Picture Oscar Losers

It happens every year—the best picture Oscar brings the winning film crowds of new viewers and millions of extra box-office dollars. Stars recycle the platitude “it’s an honor just to be nominated,” but history records only the winners.

The problem is that history—or at least the Academy members who vote for best picture—so often get it wrong. Among the films that did not take home the gilded statuette as their year’s top film are such certified classics as The Philadelphia Story, The Great Dictator, The Maltese Falcon, Suspicion, Apocalypse Now, Sunset Boulevard, and Citizen Kane!

So the heck with winners—let’s take another look at some “losers.” Jumping back in time in five-year leaps, here are five fabulous films that were nominated for—but failed to win—best picture. This year’s Oscar losers can consider themselves in good company, for these “also-rans” are well worth a second chance.

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Five years ago (2003) Lord of the Rings: Return of the King strode majestically past the intense, down-to-earth Mystic River. This beautifully written and constructed drama, based on Dennis Lehane’s novel, packs an emotional wallop that will linger long after the film ends. Director Clint Eastwood knows just when to control his stars—Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and Kevin Bacon—and when to let their natural tendencies run rampant. Their characters’ experiences as kids growing up together in a rough Boston Irish neighborhood left ties of friendship and resentment, both of which come into play as they reunite after a family member is murdered.

Ten years ago (1998) Two British costume dramas shook their starched ruffs at one another, and Shakespeare in Love triumphed over Elizabeth. Naturally regal as Judy Dench was as Queen Elizabeth I in Shakespeare, it was then little-known Cate Blanchett who recreated the definitive Virgin Queen for this generation. (She reprised the role in ’07’s Elizabeth: The Golden Age, and was nominated for a best actress Oscar both times.) The first Elizabeth emphasizes the political smarts the queen developed to counter the conniving politicians circling the throne like vultures. (Geoffrey Rush and Christopher Eccleston make particularly delicious predators.) But neither director Shekar Kapur nor Blanchett lose sight of the passionate young girl inside the slowly calcifying monarch.

Fifteen years ago (1993) Schindler’s List rose to the top of voters’ ballot lists, besting The Piano. Both were expertly told tales of human cruelty, kindness, and survival, but of such completely different kinds that it’s a shame they had to compete. The Piano uses the natural lushness of its New Zealand setting to mirror the transformation of prim Scottish widow Ada (Holly Hunter), mute and intimidated by this new, wild land; and gone-native rough guy Baines (Harvey Keitel). The seduction of one by the other, over lessons on the titular instrument, is one of the most sensuous fully clothed sequences ever filmed.

Twenty years ago (1988) Rain Man washed out the hopes of Dangerous Liaisons, one of the most compelling and sumptuous films of any decade. In 18th-century French courtly society, all was fair in love and love was war. Vice was its own reward for the conniving Marquise de Merteuil (Glenn Close, in a performance both powerful and subtle) and her devilishly amoral lover the Vicomte de Valmont (John Malkovich, oozing oily charm under his powered wig). The plot is both complex and eternal, and it’s a tribute to Stephen Frears’ direction that the whole thing doesn’t drown in the lavish set decoration and elaborate costumes. Close’s emotionally wrenching closing shot has lost none of its power in the succeeding decades.

Twenty-five years ago (1983) Terms of Endearment heard sweet nothings from Academy voters, jilting The Dresser. So few Americans saw the filmed version of Ronald Harwood’s stage play that it’s a miracle The Dresser was even nominated. But this tale of an aging actor on the down-slope of his career, and the dresser who assists him as their theatre company tours Britain during World War II is—appropriately—an actors’ tour de force. And what actors: Albert Finney stars as the bull-like, bellowing actor/manager. He’s matched by a much quieter but no less impressive performance by Tom Courtenay as the dresser. This is a must-see for those who love great British drama and great British actors.

Top 10 Films We Saw in 2008

On new year's day, every year for more than two decades, I make a "top ten" list of the films I've seen during the previous year. These may or may not correspond to films eligible for Oscars and other awards for the year in question since--alas--not all films open here in the same year they're up for awards. Here's the latest crop of masterpieces...

Top 10 (in order, with #1 best of the year)

1. Frozen River
2. Favela Rising
3. Hairspray (by far the most fun I had in a theatre all year. This was followed closely in the "just-plain-fun" category by Mamma Mia, but I'd never claim that was a good much less great film.)
4. There Will be Blood
5. Wall-E
6. Persepolis
7. The Counterfeiters
8. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
9. Milk
10. The Visitor

Runners-Up (in no particular order, and including older films)

• Starting Out in the Evening
• Elegy
• The Band's Visit
• Iron Man
• Burn After Reading
• The Fall (as the wise Boston Globe critic put it, "a narrative train wreck, but ooooooh, such pretty pictures")
• The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
• A Passage to India
• Lawrence of Arabia
• Man Push Cart
• MASH
• Wallace and Gromit: The Case of the Were-Rabbit

And the "Avoid at all costs" stinkers of the year list:

• Vicky Cristina Barcelona (No more Woody Allen! Ever! No matter what!)
• Happy Go Lucky (I left after 20 minutes of this treacle)
• Beowulf (read the damn book!)

Yummy Films for Foodies

Many films practice “foodus interruptus,” where characters talk about eating, obsess over their weight, even fetishize food…but rarely actually consume anything on camera. And occasionally a film that appears to be all about food is anything but—My Dinner with Andre, for example (You remember the ideas, but what did they eat during that two-hour meal?)

By contrast, food is the main course in each of these delicious (and good for you too!) flicks.

Bon Appetit.

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Big Night (1995) This tale of two brothers trying to rescue their failing restaurant is the pièce de résistance of foodie films. Pre-fame performances by Tony Shalhoub and Stanley Tucci as the Italian brothers, and Allison Janney as a shy florist, make the film fly, but the cuisine is the real star here. Banking on one special evening to revive their business’s fortunes, the brothers put on a feast that outdoes even Babette’s feast (see below.) And yet the loveliest scene in the film involves the preparation of a simple omelet. Don’t miss this one.

Babette’s Feast (1987) Based on an Isak Dinesen (Out of Africa) story, the straight-laced Danish townspeople don’t know what to make of it when widowed servant Babette offers to cook them a celebratory dinner. The moral tug-of-war between the townsfolks’ usual austere outlook on life and the sensual pleasure of an all-out banquet provides more tension and humor than you’d imagine. A simple story, beautifully told. [In French and Danish with subtitles]

Chocolat (2000) Although the film carries a message about the joys of food akin to that in Babette’s Feast, the similarities end there. Single mom Juliet Binoche tries to loosen up a French hamlet in the 1950s, outraging the locals by opening a candy shop during Lent and befriending the town’s outcasts (including Johnny Depp and Lena Olin). Alfred Molina steals the show as the moralistic Comte de Reynaud. Warning: you will absolutely crave chocolate during this, so stock up before viewing. [In French, with subtitles]

Ratatouille (2007) Can Remy the rat escape his fate of dumpster-dining and exercise his sophisticated palate in Paris’ finest restaurants? Pixar answers this question with gorgeously animated cityscapes and cute and funny antics inside the kitchen, where Remy teams up with a hapless human would-be cook. Unctuous restaurant critic Anton Ego is memorably voiced by Peter O’Toole.

Life is Sweet (1990) With Mike Leigh at the helm, you know the title’s ironic; expect sharply-written, bittersweet, funny fare. Brit film staples Jim Broadbent, Alison Steadman, and baby-voiced Jane Horrocks headline this portrait of a dysfunctional family, each obsessed with food in his or her own way. The biggest sweet-tooth award goes to Horrocks’ Nicola, a bulimic who sneaks chocolate and finds an, um, creative romantic use for chockies. [In British English; should have subtitles but doesn’t]

Not a Novelty Act

THE SHEE
Different Season
Shee Records 1

The novelty value of all-female Celtic ensembles went out the window when Cherish the Ladies emrged in 1985, and raised the quality bar. The Shee is Newcastle’s answer to CTL, a sextet of young women whose debut album is crisp, bold, and electrifying. The angelic harmonies of Rachel Newman, Olivia Ross, and Laura-Beth Salter would alone turn heads, but the instrumentation is even more impressive. They breathe new life into well-traveled material such as “Chilly Winds,” “Lady Margaret,” and “MacCrimmons.” On the latter, the band enter the musical dimension in which electronica and tradition swirl and collide. Each woman is a skilled musician, but Amy Thatcher wields her accordion like a scimitar carving out space for fiddle, harp, and flute bursts that make you dance like the faeries for which the band is named. This is no novelty act; it’s the real deal.

All the Right Side Tracks

RAILROAD EARTH
Amen Corner
SCI Fidelity 1098

The latest from bluegrass jam band Railroad Earth is an Americana mash-up of The Band, Old and in the Way, and The Grateful Dead. On the rockabilly “Waggin’ the Dog” there’s even a brief wink to Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks.” There are numerous classic bluegrass mandolin, fiddle, banjo, and flat-picked guitar breakouts on this album, but check out the blaring alto sax that rocks out “Hard Livin’.” Frontman Todd Sheaffer is a vocal chameleon who is Country smooth at one moment, a wailing arena rock singer the next, and singing like a pained backwoodsmen a split second later. In the latter persona he rightly draws comparisons to Jerry Garcia. This hard-driving release is a welcome relief from overdone bluegrass/jazz fusion projects.

Back to the Future with Natacha Atlas

NATACHA ATLAS & the Mazeeka Ensemble
Ana Hina
World Village 450005

This album evokes a 1940s movies set in Middle East in which dodgy characters haunt the smoky shadows of a dark souq. Picture Natacha Atlas as the singer whose voice slices through the blue cigarette pall. Her material is culled from film scores, traditional sources, and the back catalogue of famed Lebanese singer Fairuz. Covering Fairuz is akin to a French chanteuse trying to do Edith Piaf and would be a vain attempt for most, but not for Atlas. Her undulating wails could wake the dead, and she has the range of an operatic soprano. Her supple and multi-colored voice also allows for bold experiments, such as a North African take on a “Black is the Color,” and a Frido Kahlo poem set to music that’s one part Mexico and two parts Morocco. All is backed by a gloriously retro orchestra.