One of the myths of
Hollywood that is basically considered gospel was that the aura of the auteur
in 1970s ended almost immediately after Star Wars. The story goes, the
studios saw how much money you could make by marketing films exclusively to
teenage boys and before you could say: “Let the force be with you,” Hollywood
wasn’t making directors create masterpieces any more.
Apart from the basic
fallacy of that statement (Hollywood is a business and the only reason any film
is made is to make money) there are some minor facts that get in the way. The
first is that even had the studios wanted to immediately do that, there was no
way to tell it would work because in 1977 there was no rating between PG
and R. The PG-13 rating didn’t come into existence until July of 1984 and the
first movie to get that rating was John Milius’s Red Dawn. Even then it
took a very long time before and after that rating was developed before
studios decided to exclusively market to teenage boys and there was a lot of
trial and error before they hit that sweet spot. (Any child who saw Labyrinth
or so many of the Don Bluth cartoons during that decade knows what I am
talking about.) As someone who has lived through much of that period I don’t
think Hollywood seriously considered that as an economic possibility until Tim
Burton’s Batman in 1989 and even past that point, there was a lot of
marketing movies towards teenagers of any gender with no idea of making it more
than box office. (If anyone doubts me I would simply ask if anyone thought of
making action figures for The Breakfast Club.)
The second issue I
have is how many of the major box office hits during the 1980s were still of
the kind of adult films that were being made in the 1970s. Steven Spielberg
started to dip his toe into ‘the deep end of the pool’ with The Color Purple
and Empire of the Sun and many of the best directors of the 1970s
were making movies that were critical and box office hits. The reasons we might
not acknowledge that is that the majority of them (Norman Jewison, Mike
Nichols, Sidney Lumet) don’t fall under the label of auteur the way that
Kubrick or Scorsese and Hal Ashby do. Nevertheless movies such as Moonstruck,
Working Girl and The Verdict were both Academy Award nominated
movies and box office successes. And during this same period a new wave of
directors were coming into filmmaking, bringing a combination of grownup studio
movies and box office success. These included such brilliant talents as Barry
Levinson and Peter Weir (who had worked mostly in Australia before Witness brought
him to the attention of American audiences. One of the biggest names in
directing box office during the eighties was Oliver Stone who managed to win
Best Director twice in four years for going even deeper into the horrors of the
Vietnam War in Platoon and Born On the Fourth of July then even
Michael Cimino had been willing to do in The Deer Hunter. After a slow
opening weekend Platoon would gross over $130 million (in 1986 dollars)
and while Born didn’t gross that much, it still made more than five
times back its $14 million budget.
A large part of the
reason Hollywood turned away from directors being able to control every aspect
must be laid at the feet of the directors themselves. Despite what the David Mamet’s
and their ilk might argue about their work in Hollywood, their ability to produce the movies they want
is directly proportional to how much someone is willing to go and see it. And
during the 1980s in particular a lot of the directors from the 1970s were
burning up whatever goodwill they had in making films that were critically
acclaimed but kept losing money. Francis Ford Coppola may have been the biggest
abuser of Hollywood’s trust during that period; I suspect the blame he has put
on the studios for the failures of such films as The Cotton Club and Peggy
Sue Got Married or Tucker is because he can’t blame the people he
wants to: the audience. And he’s just the most extreme example: Robert Altman
spent most of the 1970s and 1980s making brilliant dramas that either barely
made money or lost money. Studios spent a ridiculous amount of money on
Kubrick’s vision for Barry Lyndon and got almost nothing in return. A
lot of directors got a lot of rope for a long time during the 1980s to try and
prove that the studio’s faith in them was not misguided. And by the time I was
a teenager (the mid-nineties) they’d pretty much used it all up.
And it should be
noting the British were given as much an opportunity to do so during this same
period, and there’s an argument they may have done much to hurt the Oscars
brand as well during the 1980s and perhaps beyond. By far the most notorious
example of this is Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi a movie that has been
going on the list of worst Oscar choice in history pretty much as long since
I’ve been alive and probably always
will.
Richard Attenborough
may be one of the worst examples of what happens when an actor decides he wants
to direct in history. Even before Gandhi was greenlit he was getting the
reputation of making pretentious films that were extremely long. His most well
known film to that point A Bridge Too Far was so controversial one of
the cast members Dirk Bogarde took a huge amount of heat from friends of the
General he portrayed. Many believed had General Browning lived to see it he
would have sued Attenborough and screenwriter William Goldman for libel and
Browning’s son thought his father was made the fall guy because the writers
could not have gone after Field Marshal Montgomery. The movie cost a fortune by
1977 standards - $27 million and it was
only because it made money in America that Attenborough was given cover.
One gets the feeling
that Gandhi was given so much praise and record more for the effort
involved in the filmmaking. For the funeral sequence alone 300,000 extras
appeared and 20,000 feet of film where shot by eleven crews in what was pared
down to little more than two minutes on the screen. The film is clearly
inspired by the work of David Lean (we’ll get to him in this by the way) but it
is lugubrious and bloated by comparison even though it is shorter than some of
Lean’s movies. That’s in large part because Bridge on The River Kwai and
Lawrence of Arabia are epic movies in the kind of stories their telling:
both films tell multiple stories aside from the man in the center of it. In
what would become a frustrating pattern of Attenborough’s career, he decided
that he could make lives that frequently were less about action then about men
(and it was always men) the kind of sweeping sagas.
And there’s no contest when it comes to comparing Gandhi
to ET when it comes to which is by far the better film. Hell,
there’s an argument that Gandhi was, at the most generous estimate, the
seventh most worthy film of a Best Picture nod in 1982, behind not just ET
and Tootsie, but also The Verdict, Sophie’s Choice, Das Boot and
maybe even Victor/Victoria. All of these movies flow, having compelling
stories with brilliant technical aspects and engaging characters. Gandhi is
a three hour effort by Attenborough to turn a man (who in Britain was never
thought of that highly) into a saint.
The only thing that
works about the film is the incredible
performance by Ben Kingsley at the center of it. Considering that among
everything else this was Kingsley’s film debut (he’d work in British television
and the theater but had never appeared on the silver screen before that) it is
the demonstration of a chameleon at work. Kingsley did what he has done in
every major role I’ve seen him onscreen since: he is Gandhi and he
embodies it. It took far too long for Hollywood to realize Kingsley’s brilliance
again (he spent much of the aftermath of his Oscar win basically acting in
British films and theater) before Barry Levinson cast him as Meyer Lansky in Bugsy.
(As Billy Crystal joked about it at the Oscars that year: ‘Gandhi and
Lansky. Two men with vision and neither ate pork.) After that Hollywood finally
figured out how to use Kingsley’s formidable appearance properly and he’s been
one of the greatest character actors of all time ever since.
I think Hollywood
could have lived if they had given the Oscar for Best Actor to Kingsley and
given Best Picture and Director to any of the other four nominees in either
category. Instead by giving it to both Gandhi and Attenborough it began a trend
that may have done more damage to the Oscars that has been difficult to recover
from: giving Best Picture to movies that appear to be Oscar worthy
picture because they are big in scope and appearance but in reality are just
bloated movies overshadowing real art. There are so many examples of this that
would follow Out of Africa beating movies like Witness or Kiss
of The Spider Woman in 1985; The Last Emperor, Bernardo Bertolucci’s
bloated historical film triumphing over Moonstruck and Broadcast News
in 1987; The English Patient utterly crushing Fargo in
1996…well, you get the idea. And that’s without counting all of the bloated
films that seem to be epic but actually aren’t that have been nominated in all
the decades since – Gangs of New York; The Thin Red Line; The Revenant (my opinions, I admit) So many of the
wins that the Oscars are the kind of film I can imagine Hollywood collectively
waking up the next day and going: “We did what last night?” And part of
me does think we have to blame Gandhi for that.
Now to be fair there
were some British directors still making different kinds of masterpieces during
this same period and for those who might have thought Attenborough was aspiring
to be David Lean, in 1984 they would finally get the real thing again.
After the disastrous
reception for Ryan’s Daughter and a horrible luncheon with Pauline Kael
and other critics where he was publicly shamed Lean had essentially retreated
from filmmaking during the 1970s. Then in the 1980s he began work on another
epic movie; this time based on E.M. Forster classic novel A Passage to
India.
Age had done little to
change Lean’s attitude as a filmmaker; he was now more rigid and petulant then
ever before. During the film making his relationship with Alec Guiness who had
been part of Lynch’s movies for nearly forty years deteriorated and finally
fractured when Guiness learned many of his scenes had been edited out. The two men never met or
spoke to the other again. He also did much to isolate one of his leading ladies,
Peggy Ashcroft, who played Mrs. Moore, shunning her from his table during
meals. Ashcroft took it better than Guiness, thinking it was just Lean being
Lean.
Compared to his
previous epics Passage to India was short: 2 hours and forty five
minutes. Still considering the length of Forester’s novel, the movie would be
accused of having many of its scenes being stretched too long. Nevertheless,
most critics hailed it as a brilliant return to form, capturing the essence of
Forster’s novel. Set in the 1920s, it tells the story of Adela Quested (Judy
Davis in an early role) and her possible future mother in law as they travel to
India to visit Adela’s unofficial fiancée. A story of colonialism and racism,
it involves the meeting between the two women and a local Indian physician
(Victor Banerjee). The three go on a trip to the Marabar Caves where something
horrible and undefined happens.
A Passage to India was one of the most
well regarded films by critics in 1984 with the movie sweeping the four major
awards (Picture, Director, Actor for Bannerjee, Actress for Ashcroft) and the
National Board of Review) and winning everything but Best Actor at the New York
Film Critics. Ashcroft would win multiple awards for Best Lead Actress and
Supporting Actress, earning the latter from the Golden Globes. The film would
receive eleven Oscar nominations, including three for Lean, for writing,
directing and editing.
Another British film
maker of note also made himself known to the Oscars that year. Roland Joffe had
worked almost exclusively in television before Columbia Pictures agreed to have
him helm an adaptation of New York Times journalist Sydney Schanberg’s experiences
covering the civil war in Cambodia,, for which Schanberg won the Pulitzer
prize. The Killing Fields tells the story of Schanberg’s relationship
with a local Cambodian journalist Dith Pran and how after the American
evacuation, the two men were separated and Schanberg’s effort to find him.
Sam Waterston was cast
as Schanberg and in a work of symmetry Joffe would cast Haing S. Ngor, a
Cambodian native as Dith Pran. Ngor had been a physician and medical officer in
the Cambodian Army who was captured by the Khmer Rouge and imprisoned and tortured.
To escape execution, he denied being a doctor or having an education. He escape
to the United States in 1980. Though he had no formal acting experience Joffe
cast him in this critical role. The film was one of the most awarded movies of
1984 and received seven Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, Director,
Actor for Waterson and Supporting Actor for Ngor.
By and large the
Oscars basically got everything right in 1984, giving eight Academy Awards to
one of the all-time great films, Amadeus. Lean didn’t win a single Oscar
in what would be his final Academy Awards but Peggy Ashcroft did prevail for
Best Supporting Actress for her work as Mrs. Moore. The Killing Fields took
three Oscars, Best Supporting Actor for Ngor, Adapted Screenplay and editing. There
were quite a few other British Actors nominated in 1984, though few attended
the ceremony. One of them Sir Ralph Richardson, nominated for Best Supporting
Actor for Greystoke, had a decent excuse – he had passed away two months
before the film made it to theaters. Albert Finney, who received his fourth
nomination for Best Actor playing one of the great performances of an alcoholic
in Under the Volcano reacted the same way his previous three nominations
– no comment. And Vanessa Redgrave nominated for Best Actress for The
Bostonians showed the better part of valor and didn’t show up. (We’ll be
dealing with the filmmakers in a bit.)
The British had
actually been in force in the acting categories the previous year, indeed when
Robert Duvall was nominated for Best Actor for his work in Tender Mercies he
said, “I guess it’s me against the Limeys.” (He won.) One of the surprise
nominees for many awards that year was Peter Yates’s The Dresser, a film
about the complicated relationship between an actor known only as Sir (Finney)
and his personal assistant Norman (Tom Courtenay). Courtenay and Finney were
both nominated for Best Actor and the film earned nominations for Best Picture,
Director and Screenplay.
Michael Caine was
nominated for his work in the working class comedy Educating Rita as was
Julie Walters for the title role. The film would sweep the Golden Globes
winning Best Foreign Film , Actor and Actress in a Comedy. Asked what an Oscar
would mean Caine said: “I might get more scripts with less coffee stains on
them.” He acknowledged that when the time came for the Oscars to be presented
Dolly Parton’s presence was a sign that he wasn’t going to win. Perhaps that
was part of the reason that, after three consecutive nominations and no wins he
decided not to show up for what would be his biggest night.
There’s a good
argument that the special relationship with Britain was cemented in Hollywood
in 1986 as many of the most critical actors and creative forces that would be
prominent among the Academy Award nominees and winners came in that year. Much
of it had to do with Michael Caine.
Caine would joke upon
accepting a Golden Globe a decade later that there was a time “when I made a
lot of crap…and a lot of money.” That was certainly true during the 1980s but
there was a lot of excellent work in there as well. It was definitely true of
two of his biggest roles in 1986 both of which were supporting.
One couldn’t have been
more American if he tried: his role as Elliot in Woody Allen’s masterpiece Hannah
And Her Sisters. One of the best movies in Allen’s long career and
certainly the highpoint of his collaborations with his then-partner Mia Farrow
who plays the title role her husband is played by Caine in one of his
performances. As the financial advisor
who has the first lines in the film which he uses to justify the affair with
Hannah’s sister Lee (played by Barbara Hershey) the role was a feather in
Caine’s cap from the start. Caine received many nominations for Critics’
Awards, usually in conjunction with another critically acclaimed masterpiece.
Neil Jordan was
relatively unknown when he made what would be his breakthrough film in 1986. Mona
Lisa tells the story of an ex con named George released from prison. His
time in prison has reduced his stature into the underworld of London. The only
job he can find is being a driver for a high priced call-girl, with whom he
slowly bonds and then falls in love with her. What he doesn’t know is the
dangerous game she’s playing and that by helping her he will end up in trouble
with the local kingpin.
Caine’s work as
Mortwell was the draw but the breakout sensations of the movie were the
performances of Bob Hoskins as George and Cathy Tyson as Simone. Hoskins’s
appeal was a shock to himself as he knew he had no sex appeal – “Me own mum
wouldn’t think of me as pretty.” But he had built a reputation in England as
one of the best character actors in the country, particularly on television
officially becoming a sensation for his work as Arthur in Dennis Potter’s
masterpiece Pennies From Heaven.. Not long after that he became beloved
for his work in a similar dark masterpiece The Long Good Friday. He had
worked steadily and to acclaim in some American films of note – Francis Ford
Coppola’s The Cotton Club and Terry Gilliam’s Brazil but Mona
Lisa introduced him to American audiences in a big way.
He would win Best
Actor at Cannes which would be a preview of how the awards season would go for
him. From New York to LA, from the National Society of Film Critics to the
Golden Globes he would win nearly every Best Actor award in sight. Tyson did well herself, tying with
Dianne Wiest for Best Supporting Actress in LA and receiving a Golden Globe
nomination for Best Supporting Actress. Mona Lisa looked sure to be a
major contender for every award in the book and it might well have been – had
it not been for another British import that would have a far wider appeal and a
more far-ranging impact for America.
Ismail Merchant, James
Ivory and Ruth Prawer Jhabvala had formed a production company in the 1960s.
Ivory and Jhabvala were the creative forces, Merchant was mainly involving
producing. Their films were period pieces and their more successful works had been
literary adaptations, certainly in America where their adaptations of Henry
James’s The Europeans and The Bostonians had received Oscar
nominations. The latter had been earned Redgrave her first Oscar nod in seven
years.
In 1985 they became
work on an E.M. Forster novel, which had already brought multiple Oscar
nominations and acclaim to David Lean the previous year. But A Room With A
View was far more intimate - in both
scope and budget – than Passage to India had been. And it was even more
ambitious in casting performers making their film debuts. Helena Bonham Carter
made her movie debut as the lead role of Lucy Honeychurch. Rupert Graves made
his theatrical debut as her brother Freddy. And a young Irish actor named Daniel
Day-Lewis was cast in the critical role of Johnny, even though it was only his
second major role of any significance.
The majority of the
other leads were acting royalty in Britain but with the exception of Maggie
Smith they were basically unknown in America – and honestly if it hadn’t been
for Smith’s two Oscars I doubt Hollywood would have known who she was. Judi
Dench would play the role of Eleanor (and still wouldn’t become a household
name for another decade) Denholm Elliott, basically known for his work in Raiders
of the Lost Ark, played Mr. Emerson and such talents as Julian Sands and
Simon Callow filled out the other leads. The film was a sensation in Britain
but that was meaningless in America. Then it opened in March of 1986 – and
became the biggest independent hit of the year, making nearly seven times it
budget back in America.
The movie won Best
Picture prizes from the National Board of Review. The major sensation in the
eyes of critics was Day-Lewis, who won Best Supporting Actor prizes from the
New York Film Critics and the National Board of Review. Strangely enough he
would be one of the few people associated with the movie NOT to get an Oscar
nomination. (He’s done okay since then.)
On the day of the
nominations both Hannah & Her Sisters and A Room With A View were
among the most nominated films, each receiving eight nominations including the
first nominations for Merchant for producing, Ivory as a director and Jhabvala
for Adapted Screenplay. Denholm Elliott was nominated for Best Supporting Actor
and Maggie Smith received her fifth nomination for Best Supporting Actress. The
news was not as great for Mona Lisa which received just a single Oscar
nomination – Hoskins for Best Actor.
Part of the reason it
may have been excluded from the nominations was Roland Joffe’s follow-up to The
Killing Fields. The Mission told the true story of eighteenth century
Spanish Jesuits trying to protect a remote South American tribe from falling
under the rule of pro-slavery Portugal. Robert De Niro played the lead role of
Mendoza, a slave hunter who was converted and a relative unknown named Jeremy
Irons as a Spanish Jesuit who went into the wilderness.
While it was
well-regarded at the time The Mission is the Best Picture nominee of 1986
that holds up the least well. Much of the movie is based on the ‘white savior trope’
that would increasingly become called out in the years to come: the two leads
have ‘saved the savages’ and are risking their lives to protect them from a
greater evil. One also gets the feeling, as with Gandhi, that the
Academy was giving the film and Joffe nominations for the effort put in rather
than the quality of the film – the movie was shot on location in the Amazon jungle
and the majority of those associated became ill of dysentery. It looks
incredible on the big screen and it has a great spiritual message – both of
which lead the Academy to give films like this recognition and ignore smaller, more
quality films like Mona Lisa.
Whatever the reason The
Mission received seven Academy Award nominations almost all of them
technical. (None of the cast or the screen play were nominated that year.) It
would have made more sense to nominate Mona Lisa or other masterpieces
from that year for Best Picture: Blue Velvet, Aliens or Salvador.
Michael Caine, who was
nominated for Hannah and Her Sisters, chose not to attend arguing his
obligations for shooting Jaws: The Revenge were too demanding. (He took
a lot of ribbing for that later on.) Maggie Smith, his co-star from California
Suite and a heavy favorite for Best Supporting Actress, chose to stay home
as well perhaps thinking it highly unlikely she would win Academy Award number
3. Bob Hoskins was there on Oscar night and he spent it royally unhappy.
Paul Newman had
received his seventh Oscar nomination for Best Actor for The Color of Money,
the unofficial sequel to The Hustler. While a superb movie no one even
pretended that it was Newman’s best work but by 1986 the fact that the Oscars
had never given one of the greatest actors of all time an Academy Award was too
glaring to overlook. Newman had only won a single award in the leadup to the
Oscars from the National Board of Review: everything else had gone to Hoskins.
Four years earlier Ben Kingsley had won every award in sight for Gandhi while
Paul Newman had been ignored for his extraordinary performance in The
Verdict. The Academy was not going to let history repeat itself.
During a commercial
break on Oscar night William Hurt, nominated for his work in Children of a
Lesser God, gathered with two of his fellow nominees for Best Actor –
Dexter Gordon for Round Midnight and James Woods for Salvador –
and toasted Paul Newman. Hoskins hung back and would be brutally honest
afterward. “It wasn’t his best work by any measure.” The fact that Newman had
decided to stay home that night – he would later acknowledge it was ‘too
little, too late’ - compounded the
insult in Hoskins’s mind. Hoskins would go on to be one of the better character
actors in Hollywood and Britain but he would never even be nominated for an
Academy Award again.
Neither of the other
major winners for British films – Michael Caine or Jhabvala who won Best
Adapted Screenplay – were their to pick up on their Oscars. Because not only
Newman but Woody Allen was, as per usual, absent, it wasn’t noted upon as a bigger sin.
From 1986 on the floodgates
for British director and actors were open and have never closed. Merchant/Ivory
would be among the constant producer of British masterpieces for the next
decade and Neil Jordan would go on to make several major masterpieces, finally
getting the recognition he deserved for The Crying Game in 1992 for
which he would win for Best Original Screenplay.
Other filmmakers of
that era would soon follow. Stephen Frears, the director of My Beautiful Launderette
would receive his first nominations for Dangerous Liaisons in 1988
and has been a major force in both British and American films and TV ever
since. Jim Sheridan would make his film debut with the extraordinary My Left
Foot the story of Christy Brown. Daniel Day-Lewis was officially introduced
to America and immediately entered the clique of the greatest actors of all
time, winning the first of three Best Actor Academy Awards. (After the standing
ovation, he told the theater: “You’ve set up the makings of a great weekend in
Ireland.)
And completing the circle
of the original British invasion that year saw the first Shakespearean adaption
of Kenneth Branagh, Laurence Olivier’s godfather. Fittingly he also adapted Henry
V but while he was as much of an artist as Olivier, he was far more of a guerilla
filmmaker. It took him just two months to shoot the entire film – Olivier famously
spent that much time shooting Agincourt alone – and his film was received to
enormous acclaim. He received the Best Director prize from the National Board
of Review and won Best new director from the New York Film Critics. That year
he would be nominated for Best Actor and Best Director. One of the smaller
roles would be played by Emma Thompson, who Branagh would briefly be married
too. It wouldn’t take long for the rest of America to fall in love with her
either.
Not long after
American studios would start to move away from the kind of director’s visions
that they had allowed in the past. In a sense the British filmmakers managed to
fill that void in the Academy Awards. But having seen all of the struggles they
have gone through to get respectability from the Academy over the years – and honestly,
how brilliant the majority of their performances and movies are – it is hard to
begrudge them their seat at the table these days. The British Empire is no more
and Britain itself facing a tumultuous future but it is hard to look at their
body of work then and now and argue that as far as the Oscars are concerned,
there will always be an England. (Sorry I couldn’t resist.)