Tag Archives: Leonardo DiCaprio

Oscars 2016: the winners

29 Feb
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And the overall Oscar winner is… Mad Max: Fury Road

The #Oscarssowhite controversy notwithstanding, the ageing white males of the Academy actually seem to have got it right this year. There can be little outrage over last night’s Oscar winners, which produced only mild surprises, all of them pleasant.

For Best Picture, they ignored The Big Short which, at one stage, was leading in William Hill’s betting. At the time, I wrote that I would be shorting The Big Short, ie betting against it winning, so I’m pleased with that. Instead they chose the early favourite, Spotlight, but honour in The Revenant camp was satisfied by awards for Best Director and – obviously! – Cinematography.

Leonardo DiCaprio, to the utter astonishment of precisely no one, took best Actor at last after six nominations. The Supporting category delivered a teeny surprise K.O.: Sylvester Stallone was tipped for his elegiac reprise of Rocky Balboa in Creed, but the desire to reward genuine skill prevailed over sentiment, and Mark Rylance very justly took it down for Bridge of Spies. His restrained, unshowy performance was the anti-Leo: a cotton-wool cocoon of quiet dignity wrapped around a core of pure steel.

No shocks at all in the Actress categories, as Brie Larson won for The Room and Alicia Vikander took Best Supporting for The Danish Girl. The two screenplay awards were shared between Spotlight and The Big Short – again, no surprise – and Inside Out was the clear runaway winner in Best Animation.

But the biggest winner of the night, numerically at least, was Mad Max: Fury Road. Though it won none of the big awards (action and sci-fi movies rarely do) it took six of the technical awards, including production design and editing. Sad that Carol could not win for its sumptuous and meticulously recreated costume and production design, but Mad Max had the arguably greater challenge of creating a whole new world. Kudos to its unsung hero, genius UK comics artist Brendan McCarthy, who, as I wrote here, was behind much of the look of the film as well as its story.

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The Big Short: now in with a big shot at the Oscars

24 Jan
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Steve Carell continues his break-out from comedy in The Big Short, now William Hill’s Oscar favourite

Just over a month to go before the Oscars, and the bookmakers are honing the odds. William Hill spokesman Rupert Adams says they have just had the “biggest move in 30-odd years of Oscar betting” after The Big Short won at the Producers Guild last night, making it the Oscar frontrunner. Odds have been slashed from 10/1 to 5/4.

It makes sense: The Revenant is an awesome movie, a true masterpiece of film-making, but many people have found it cold and brutal and hard to love. It’s not about anything much more redeeming, either, than how the drive for revenge can keep you alive against all odds. Oscar likes his films to be Important, like 12 Years a Slave; or else about film-making, like Argo (which is important, too), The Artist or Birdman.

So it makes sense if Best Film is turning into a two-horse race between The Big Short (how the financial crisis happened) and Spotlight (Boston priests exposed as paedophiles). No surprises to see Leo DiCaprio in the top spot for Best Actor: this is surely his year. Sylvester Stallone doesn’t really deserve Best Supporting, but he’s fine in Creed, and (mini-spoiler alert), he does get Very Ill, which Oscar also likes. I’d rather Mark Rylance won for his extraordinary subtle and dignified turn in Bridge of Spies, but it lacks the pyrotechnics Oscar craves.

Brie Larson, too, is a good bet in a crowded field, partly because Room is another Important film. And I’d certainly like to see Rooney Mara win as Supporting Actress for Carol: anyone who can hold their own against Cate Blanchett has a lot going for them. These are William Hill’s odds right now:

Best Picture: 5/4 The Big Short, 13/8 Spotlight, 7/2 The Revenant, 14/1 The Martian, 25/1 Mad Max: Fury Road, 50/1 Bridge Of Spies, 40/1 Room, 66/1 Brooklyn

Best Actress: 2/7 Brie Larson – Room, 11/2 Saoirse Ronan – Brooklyn, 7/1 Jennifer Lawrence – Joy, 9/1 Cate Blanchett – Carol, 2o/1 Charlotte Rampling – 45 Years

Best Actor: 1/12 Leonardo DiCaprio – The Revenant, 9/1 Michael Fassbender – Steve Jobs, 10/1 Eddie Redmayne, 25/1 Bryan Cranston – Trumbo, 25/1 Matt Damon – The Martian

Best Director: 4/5 Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu – The Revenant, 11/4 Adam McKay – The Big Short, 9/2 George Miller – Mad Max: Fury Road, 5/1 Tom McCarthy – Spotlight, 25/1 Lenny Abrahamson – Room

Best Supporting Actor: 8/13 Sylvester Stallone – Creed, 13/8 Mark Rylance – Bridge of Spies, 10/1 Christian Bale – The Big Short, 12/1 Tom Hardy – The Revenant, 25/1 Mark Ruffalo – Spotlight

Best Supporting Actress: 4/6 Rooney Mara – Carol, 2/1 Alicia Vikander – The Danish Girl, 9/2 Kate Winslet – Steve Jobs, 16/1 Jennifer Jason Leigh – The Hateful Eight, 50/1 Rachel McAdams – Spotlight

What a wunch of bankers*: The Wolf of Wall Street

22 Jan

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Thank god for Martin Scorsese. Here he is, at 71, still making big, brash, riotously entertaining films that take on weighty American topics without fear of the controversy they will inevitably cause: in this case that wunch of bankers in The Wolf of Wall Street.

Loads has been written already about how immoral/amoral the film is, in not showing the victims of Jordan Belfort’s crimes; and how chauvinistic the film is, with its lashings of ripe female flesh and its rampantly misogynistic office culture. But all this is wide of the mark, because I think the real point is this: The Wolf of Wall Street is one of the finest examples of an “unreliable narrator” since The Catcher in the Rye.

Right from the off, it’s made clear that this film will be Belfort’s version of the truth. Not only does he provide the voice-over, in the first few minutes we see him driving a red Ferrari – only for that Ferrari to change to white as he informs us: “No, not a red Ferrari, a white one like Don Johnson in Miami Vice.”

This provides some of the funniest moments: particularly when, after a massive Quaalude bender, Belfort somehow steers his car home unscathed. Leonardo DiCaprio’s physical comedy here, dragging himself along the floor to the wheel, is what surely earned him his Oscar nomination; but the real joke is at the end of this sequence. The police come to arrest Belfort the next morning; confused, he exits his mansion to see the beautiful car totally destroyed, with the back wheel hanging off and bits of tree still attached to its dents. Only then does the film replay the true version of his drugged-up drive home.

Belfort clearly has no remorse for his victims, and nor does the film. Belfort has a predatory, proprietary approach to women, somehow still believing he treats his wife well until the moment she dumps him, and so does the film.

I don’t believe it’s the job of a film, or any work of art, to be socially responsible. The Wolf of Wall Street clearly isn’t; it’s much too much fun, and the consequences too inconsequential, to be seen as a cautionary tale. No wonder bankers are treating it as a “how-to” lesson, which is a problem for the rest of us: it is their world, and sadly we all have to live in it.

No, the job of art is to be true to itself, which this is, up to a point. The problem here is that, in providing only Belfort’s viewpoint, we get no closer to the real truth: what really motivated and drove his insatiable greed and ambition; or why his father, who worked for him, made no real attempt to provide a moral compass.

Oh well. This is, in bits, one of the funniest films of the year. Sometimes it’s in a frat-house way, such as the introduction of the preternaturally beautiful woman Belfort would marry: “I would f*** that girl if she was my sister!” says one colleague. “I would let her give me f***ing AIDS!” A drugged-up Jonah Hill (brilliant; could easily win Best Supporting Actor) simply whips out his schlong and starts masturbating in the middle of the party.

But often the humour is quite subtle. Discussing the hiring of dwarfs for an office game of dwarf-tossing (yes, this was a thing in the ‘80s), Belfort earnestly stresses that “safety is paramount”. He then elaborates: “I think we should have tranquilliser guns on standby in case the dwarves get mad.”

* With thanks to Neil Gaiman for the headline. Discussing the term “a murder of crows” many years back, he told me the collective noun for bankers: “It’s a wunch,” he said. “As in, ‘what a wunch of bankers’.”

Cannes confessions, #2: the name’s Wiffen; Paul Wiffen

17 May
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Paul Wiffen (left), Tony Errico (centre), and Spy Fail actress Victoria George-Veale

Glorious glamorous beach-side Cannes hasn’t totally worked out that way. True, I haven’t seen so many dinner jackets since watching March of the Penguins. They were even in the McDonald’s opposite the Palais. (Before you sneer at me for eating there on my first night, I did order a Royal With Cheese in deference to former Palme D’Or winner Pulp Fiction.)

But the first night was a wash-out – a Biblical downpour that not even the heat generated by Leo DiCaprio’s smile could ward off. Read more about that in my article for the IBT, here. It’s also taken me two days to get the internet working in this apartment, which is a good deal further from the Palais than advertised (everywhere, apparently is “15 minutes from the Palais”); plus Google maps didn’t warn me about the incredibly steep hill. Thank god I’m not wearing heels.

Yesterday was a bit more on track: after filing my article for the International Business Times, we fit in a couple of afternoon parties in the marquees behind the Palais. The first, at the Russian Pavilion, earned black marks for refusing to open the bar until the end of loooong, barely audible speeches in Russian. The second, in honour of the Locarno Film Festival, required some blagging to get into. Tony Errico, whose short film Colonel Badd I helped write, is Swiss, which helped; I played the Press card. They didn’t seem too fussed as long as you looked the part. For me, gold shoes, white trousers, white Clements Ribeiro jacket, and always the Philip Treacy Elvis hat.

When you’re hanging around critics and journalists at Cannes, as I was in 1997, the talk is all what movies have you seen? When you’re hanging out with film-makers, it’s all what movies have you got coming up next? Tony and I spent some time with Paul Wiffen, co-director of a Bond spoof premiering in Cannes on Tuesday called The Pink Marble Egg, with a sequel, Spy Fail, shooting shortly. He cuts a dashing figure with his white lieutenant’s hat and bevy of spy girls. It’s his 17th Cannes, he seems to know everyone, and he’s always the Man with the Plan: which parties to go to, how to score the best screenings.

He had tickets to the Ozon film Young & Beautiful, in the balcony – or “balcon”, as the French has it, which caused some ribbing from his friends. (“Balcon” is the more elegant French slang for what the Americans call “rack”. So “Il y a du monde au balcon” – literally, “there’s quite a crowd on the balcony” – well, you can work that out for yourselves.) Paul has a master’s in languages from Oxford, and switches effortlessly from French to German to Italian. He’s also a master delegator: this person to carry that bag, take this picture, call that person – whatever gets the job done, but always with a kind word.

It’s a salutary lesson that it takes a certain personality to be a director. Camera angles etc, yes, that’s all well and good. But you chiefly have to be a leader of men, a marshaller of resources, a smoother of egos, a tireless cheerleader when things are going wrong.

More Cannes confessions tomorrow… NOW POSTED: how Troma Occupy Cannes