And so, one by one, the remaining pieces of the puzzle are fitting in place.
Clint Eastwood’s “Invictus” has screened, and the embargo on reviews has lifted. Peter Jackson’s “The Lovely Bones” was seen, and reviewed, after its Royal Gala screening in London last week. Rob Marshall’s “Nine” has been shown around town, though a gag order is still in place; the same thing applies to Nancy Meyers’ “It’s Complicated.” And even James Cameron’s “Avatar” has screenings scheduled.
Today I’ll look at the ones I can talk about, “Invictus” and “The Lovely Bones.” They’re two of the last great hopes for awards season – and, in my view, two films with wonderful moments and significant problems.
“Invictus”
Verdict: I can’t imagine viewers (and voters) not being moved at times while watching the film, which deals with the early years of Nelson Mandela’s time as president of South Africa, and particularly with his canny decision to rally a divided country behind the country’s underdog team in the 1995 Rugby World Cup. It is stirring, iconic stuff, delivered without fuss and brought home by Morgan Freeman’s quiet, dignified embodiment of Mandela and by extended rugby scenes that are pretty damn exciting even if you don’t know the subtleties of the game. (If you know football and soccer you can figure out most of it – but be forewarned, for the last stretch of “Invictus” definitely turns into a sports flick.)
The problem is that I also can’t imagine viewers (and voters) not being surprised, and dismayed, by some of the film’s surprisingly clunky, overstated moments. Mandela is a saint, the races are divided, sport brings everybody together – the fact that the story works on some level, and is based on fact, doesn’t excuse the way Eastwood tells his story in the broadest, simplest strokes. To me, an emblematic moment comes when Mandela flies in on a helicopter to visit the rugby team at practice. The director uses it as the occasion for a song – but in a country with a rich, vibrant musical tradition, he uses the cringeworthy new Overture song “Colorblind,” a vapid easy-listening tune with thuddingly obvious lyrics. “This is more than a game,” indeed – and, sorry to say, this is less than a top-notch Clint Eastwood movie.
Oscar chances: When he made “Mystic River” and “Million Dollar Baby” back-to-back, it seemed as if the Academy loved everything Clint Eastwood did. But of the four movies he’s made since then, only “Letters from Iwo Jima” made it into the best-picture race; “Flags of Our Fathers,” “Changeling” and “Gran Torino” all fell short of the grand Oscar showings that some had predicted for them.
If “Invictus” does better than those three films, which I think it will, you can attribute its success to the power of the film’s subject matter, and to the expanded best-picture slate. In a year of five nominees, I suspect the film would strike too many voters as lesser Eastwood; in a year of 10, the director’s quiet craftsmanship and sterling reputation will be enough.
