For Your Consideration: Best McActress

Fair warning. I’m pretty sure I’ll be utterly destroyed if Frances McDormand loses Best Actress for her whopper of a performance in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri.

As Mildred, the grieving mother who is out for justice first, then vengeance come what may, McDormand fully embraces the challenge of delving into the psyche of a damaged, if understandably so, character. Mildred wants something to hold onto, as we all do. Before the movie ever begins, she has suffered through her daughter’s horrific murder, so soon on the heels of a marriage gone sour. Bad to worse. Worse to terrible. And Ebbing Missouri’s law enforcement is either terminally stumped, disinterested, or lazy. Why isn’t more being done, meaning finding the perp, making an arrest, making a case, and making it stick? Maybe she can shame the force by leasing titular billboards. But her rage–laden as it is with guilt–blinds her to some harsh truths. Oh, and that mouth of hers. Good gawd.

Since I began writing this piece, McDormand has triumphed over the likes of Hawkins, Ronan, and Robbie for top honors at the British Academy Awards. Could this portend accolades to come? IMAGE: http://thecabot.org/event/three-billboards-outside-ebbing-missouri-2

This is a full, rich characterization, and it marks a triumphant return to star status for one of this country’s most formidable actresses after years of sharply observed supporting roles, per nominated perfs in Almost Famous (2000) and North Country (2005). As an actress of “a certain age,” McDormand found greater opportunities in TV, per her Emmy winning Olive Kittridge, when top tier film roles turned sparse. Of course, she is most famously known for her Oscar winning spin as Fargo‘s Sheriff Marge Gunderson, the unfailingly polite but super-sharp sleuth trying to solve a grisly homicide. So iconic was McDormand as no-nonsense–and quite pregnant–Marge that the character was hailed by the American Film Institute (AFI) as one of the 50 Best Heroes in its 2003 Heroes and Villains retrospective. (To clarify, McDormand’s first Oscar nod, well before Fargo, was also for a supporting role, per 1988’s Mississippi Burning.)

Of course, naysayers point out that McDormand already has an Oscar, right? True, but Fargo was more than 20 years ago (1996), and her new character is worlds removed from Marge in multitudinous ways, but McDormand has audience goodwill on her side, not to mention incredible skill and/ or range, so moviegoers are willing to give her a chance even during Mildred’s darkest hours.

McDormand, by virtue of her SAG, Golden Globe, and Critics’ Choice awards, along with other high profile wins seems comfortably situated here; however, Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water) and Saoirse Ronan (Lady Bird) loom as awfully close competitors. English born Hawkins, whose previous credits include such critical darlings as Happy-Go-Lucky, Made in Dangenham, and Maudie, is a previous Best Supporting Actress nominee for Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine (2013). In Allen’s update on Tennessee Williams’ legendary A Streetcar Named Desire, Hawkins effectively plays “Stella” to Cate Blanchett’s “Blanche,” with, of course, the latter actually snaring that year’s Best Actress Oscar. But I digress. Back in 2013, Hawkins could have hardly hoped to undo the momentum that had propelled Lupita Nyong’o to frontrunner status per her devastating portrayal of tortured slave in 12 Years a Slave. Now, Hawkins is a good position to capture the prize by virtue of appearing of in the year’s most nominated film. Simply, the odds are in her favor. Plus, she scores points for degree of difficulty in that her character is mute, meaning that Hawkins has to bring the character to life without the benefit of being understood via spoken dialogue. Historically, similar roles have scored well with Academy voters, per Holly Hunter’s universally acclaimed turn as the Victorian era mail order bride in The Piano, what was that, whoah, more than 20 years ago. Hawkins has a wonderfully expressive face, and that helps make her and her character endearing; moreover, while she did not nail some of the more recent high profile awards, she has hardly gone home empty handed the rest of the season, per the likes of the New York and Los Angeles critics’ voting.

Meanwhile, Lady Bird‘s Saorise Ronan thrives as a kind of acting genius. All of 23 years old, soon to be 24, she is enjoying her third Oscar race.  She clinched a Best Supporting Actress nod 10 years ago, yes, when she was 13 going on 14. The film was Atonement. In her first true attention grabbing role, she played Kiera Knightley’s horrid little sister. Okay, I get it, she was a child and did not, could not, have understood the consequences of her actions…but…shudders.  Atonement wasn’t the Irish lass’s first gig, but it was a game changer, for sure. Two years ago, Ronan was back, all grown up, as a young Irish woman trying to build a life for herself in 1950s New York, per Brooklyn. What a magnificent film. I don’t know a single person who saw it who didn’t love it. If only she had won. Now, a number of enthusiasts believe the Academy might, well, you know, atone for slighting Ronan previously and while this appears a tempting scenario, it’s not one that fully registers. First, it’s hardly as though Ronan was actually robbed two years ago. The trophy went to Brie Larson, the widely hailed and long acknowledged frontrunner, for Room, an extremely intense film about a young woman who’d been kidnapped, raped, and held hostage along with the resulting child for several years before emerging uneasily if heroically. Ronan’s film and Larson’s films were both Best Picture contenders, and almost no one thinks Larson wasn’t deserving even if we preferred Ronan. It wasn’t an injustice, so why would the Academy feel compelled to rectify? Plus, Ronan is still young. She has a great future and undoubtedly more opportunities. Sigh. Part of me just cannot grasp the idea that Lady Bird is  truly significant achievement, so an Oscar seems a bit of a stretch. Still, after years of seeing male coming of age stories, such as 2014’s acclaimed Boyhood, it is nice to finally see a young woman’s coming of age story being hailed as more than a mere “chick flick.” Plus, she definitely had to learn a convincing American accent as anyone who has ever heard her  Irish lilt can attest, moreover, she has fun and owns the role of the mouthy high school misfit even though, again, she’s nearing her mid 20s. But does she go to the same emotional places as McDormand, or even Hawkins? That might just be a matter of interpretation.

Next on the list is the fabulous, Aussie born Margot Robbie, reinventing herself as disgraced former Olympic hopeful Tonya Harding in I, Tonya. Okay, I first noticed her in the short-lived but tremendously fun TV show, Pan-AM, a few years back. Soon, she began making a name for herself in the likes of Focus, The Legend of Tarzan, and, most especially Suicide Squad, 2016’s horribly reviewed comic book movie that survived all naysayers to earn a whopping 325 domestically (per Box Office mojo) with Robie’s Harley Quinn seemingly the only cast member to break from the pact, becoming an Internet and Halloween sensation  and earning a Saturn nod. Now, in I, Tonya she has once again performed the impossible, that is, humanizing a true-life tabloid perennial that many Americans, at least those old enough to remember Harding from her heyday in the late ’80s and up to the mind ’90s, had long written off as simple white trash. But Harding, for all her faults and/or bad decisions, is more than her publicity might suggest, which is not to say that the filmmakers excuse anything she does. The objective is show another side to the story of two top competitive figure skaters and the “rivalry” that created an international furor when someone in Harding’s camp assaulted perceived “Golden Girl” Nancy Kerrigan with the intent not to kill but to render the latter unable to complete in the 1994 Olympics.  It’s an interesting take, and Robbie nails it, including some, not all, of the skating sequences and trying on an American accent. For all that, my guess is fascination with the darkly comic I, Tonya has peaked already and ultra glam Robbie will have to be content with her nomination and a Broadcast Critics Choice award for Best Actress in a Comedy. Likewise, I’m not sure the Academy wants its awards to effectively serve as Harding’s redemption ceremony.

The final nominee in this bunch is none other than the woman Sylvester Stallone once dubbed, “Marvelous Meryl Streep.”  In The Post, Steep plays Katherine Graham, the formidable publisher of the Washington Post; this, back in the days (late 60s early to mid 70s) when the paper’s coverage of such scandals as the Pentagon Papers and Watergate propelled it to the forefront of a new level of investigative journalism–in an era when newspapers were still considered integral to the daily landscape. Graham, of course, had much to prove at a time when women were, quite simply, not running empires.  She inherited hers in a curious fashion. Her father had been the publisher and on his death he left it, not to Mrs. Graham–but her husband, and it was his passing that ultimately put the paper in her control. The movie is as much about Ms. Graham adjusting to her role in as it is about D.C. skullduggery. Fascinating stuff, and Streep plays it to the hilt, but she is not enjoying the momentum of her co-nominees in this her 21st Oscar race, a stupendously colossal achievement that puts Streep in a league solely her own. At this point, with 21 nods and 3 wins, it seems almost no one will ever catch up with her in the record books. She won an early prize this season, from the National Board of Review, but excitement has cooled as has enthusiasm for the picture as a whole even though it is, yes, a Best Picture nominee.

Funny, that. Four of this year’s Best Actress nominees, Streep, McDormand, Hawkins, and Ronan, all appear in Best Picture nominees–a kind of rarity in that women are not always as well represented in the Best Picture category–or a film’s sole nomination might only go to its leading actress. The gig this year is so tight that there was no room for the likes of relative newcomer Vicky Krieps (a “wow” opposite Daniel Day Lewis in Best Picture nominee The Phantom Thread) in addition to Jessica Chastain (Molly’s Game), or Michelle Williams (especially laudable in All the Money in the World), along with Salma Hayek (Beatriz at Dinner) and even Gal Gadot (Wonder Woman). We all win. Moviegoers win. All of these vibrant actresses win.

Thanks for Your McConsideration…

Best Director: The Vision is the Thing

I have not had any qualms expressing my view over the last several years regarding the Academy’s decision to expand the roster of potential Best Picture candidates to 10. I believe the official ruling is no less than 5, per decades of tradition, but no more than 10. I guess there is some predetermined rubric to measure what that means exactly, whether the cut-off is, 8, 9, or 10, for example. All I know is that doing so only makes the Best Picture race less, not more, exciting because the race becomes looser, not tighter.

That noted, the Academy has made some excellent choices this year, nominating a wide array of films, from flat-out commercial blockbusters, per Get Out and Dunkirk, to more idiosyncratic choices. Two of those being, say, Lady Bird and Call Me By Your Name. Of course, I remain miffed that with such leeway, Wonder Woman was still shut out. In every category. Stupid.

On the other hand, I think this is the most exciting Best Director race in some time. What I like is that every single nominated director is not a mere hired hand for a big studio offering, but a true visionary.

Guillermo del Toro, pictured here at the Shape of Water premiere, is a previous Oscar nominee for writing 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth, which racked up 6 nods, including Best Foreign Language Film (Mexico), ultimately earning statuettes for its cinematography and art direction. IMAGE: https://www.hindustantimes.com/rf/image_size_960x540/HT/p2/2017/12/03/Pictures/premiere-the-shape-of-water-arrivals_b5c3637e-d810-11e7-8802-68a15924f886.jpg

Early buzz no doubt favors recent Directors Guild of America victor Guillermo del Toro for The Shape of Water, reworking the classic 1950s monster flick The Creature from the Black Lagoon as a Cold War era romantic fantasy, complete with undertones of that era’s politics and, sure, a nod to the perennially told tale, Beauty and the Beast, and a splash, so to speak, of self-gratification. For grins. Simply, even with Disney’s recent B & B rehash, The Shape of Water doesn’t look or feel like anything else. All of it, the stylized industrial production design, the sea-green palette, is clearly the realization of its director’s vision–made possible, of course, by a battery of artisans and technicians, but all in service to the overall conceit. Thirteen nominations isn’t a record–so far, only three films have earned as many as 14 (last year’s La La Land being the most recent)–but it is considerable and on par with the likes of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Chicago, Forrest Gump, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Mary Poppins, From Here to Eternity, and Gone with the Wind (among scant few others). In the technical categories, The Shape of the Water will be hard to beat. But wait, there’s more. The film’s kudos also include three performance contenders: Sally Hawkins (Best Actress), Richard Jenkins (Best Supporting Actor), both previous nominees, along with prior winner Octavia Spencer (Best Supporting Actress). This isn’t nothing. This is a film with widespread support, and I think it makes Guillermo del Toro the favorite for now. To reiterate, the DGA prize serves as an often unbeatable indicator of Oscar glory.

With 8 nods, Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk is the second most nominated flick, a war saga presented on a massive scale and shot on actual wide screen film, old school style. Impressive, but I don’t necessarily see Nolan as del Toro’s nearest competitor.  My instincts tell me that Jordan Peele has a super-strong chance thanks to the overwhelming success of Get Out, a creepy social satire that skillfully walks a thin line between horror and uncomfortable laughs. The obvious antecedent would be The Stepford Wives, but in this case it isn’t the women in a suburban hamlet who are being repurposed to better serve the patriarchy. Instead, Get Out throws a mad light on the state of race relations in the USA, a time and place in which many people–white, mostly–would like to pretend that equality prevails for one and all in spite of racial differences when reality is murkier, witness no less than 2015’s headline grabbing Rachel Dolezal. Remember her? The white woman who misappropriated African-American culture, indeed, identity, for professional and political gain? That is, until she was exposed as a phony.

Peele brings a lot of lot of variables, a lot of oomph, to the final stretch of the Oscar sweepstakes. First, his movie, about a young black man whose visit to his white girlfriend’s affluent parents’ country estate goes diabolically wrong, was made for a relatively modest 4.5 million–and in what universe is 4.5 million dollars considered modest, relatively or no–and ultimately grossed 175 million (per Box Office Mojo) domestically, with another 75+ million internationally, an amazing return by any measure; moreover, Get Out became a genuine pop-culture sensation, immediately becoming the centerpiece of discussions just about anywhere and everywhere: Internet, TV talk shows, classrooms, etc. Make no mistake, no movie enthralled audiences during the waxing months of 2017 more than Peele’s celebrated offering. To clarify, this is not only Peele’s first Oscar race, Get Out is his feature film directorial debut. Previously, he was best known as a force in TV comedy, such the Key and Peele sketch show. Today, he now holds the distinction of being the first African-American to be nominated for writing, directing, and producing a Best Picture nominee.  This record breaking fact may prove irresistible to many Academy voters as a statement, but it won’t necessarily be the deal maker or the even the deal breaker. On the other hand, actors-turned-directors are a known Oscar quantity, per the likes of, say, Robert Redford, Warren Beatty, Kevin Costner, and Mel Gibson. Still again, Peele’s film only scored one performance nomination, for lead actor Daniel Kaluuya, and many Oscar analysts believe acting nods provide a window into the Best Director thought process. In other words, actors, the largest branch of the Academy, are likely to consider a director’s worthiness for the top prize based on how well a given director works with other actors. Makes sense, kind of, but it’s not full-proof. Just ask Rob Marshall. In his first outing as a feature film director, Chicago, he guided FOUR performers to nominee status–kind of a miracle–but he still went home without the trophy even though Chicago was the evening’s big winner.

Greta Gerwig has directed Lady Bird, which many prognosticators hail as the year’s most acclaimed, and, therefore, arguably “best” film.  She is only the fifth female nominated in this category, and there has only been one such winner. That would be Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker)–and that was a whopping 8 years ago, also the last time a female directed film landed in this category; Bigelow was perhaps not so inexplicably overlooked for 2012’s Best Picture nominee Zero Dark Thirty, but I digress. Back to Gerwig. The versatile actress-turned-director who began making a name for herself with buzzworthy roles in the likes of Frances Ha (2012), which she co-wrote, has nabbed honors this season from the likes of the National Board of Review as well as the National Society of Film Critics along with a steady stream of additional nods, such as the DGA. All fine and well. Plus, again, the Academy likes to honor performers who shift their talents behind the camera (see above), and, yes, Lady Bird boasts two performance nominees: Saorise Ronan (Best Actress) and Laurie Metcalfe (Best Supporting Actress). Still, Gerwig faces what could be a deal breaker though I don’t think we’re supposed to talk about it. See, Lady Bird, which follows a young woman through her last year of high school, and all the ups and downs as that entails (especially prepping for the next adventure, meaning college) plays suspiciously close to Gerwig’s own story. She grew up in Sacramento, attended an all-girl Catholic school, graduated in the early 2000s, and her mother worked as a nurse. This pretty much also describes Ronan’s character in Lady Bird, yet Gerwig scoffs at the notion that her film could be construed as autobiographical or semi-autobiographical. Yes, of course, she acknowledges some resemblance to real-life but also believes that too much emphasis on said resemblances detracts from her vision as a filmmaker and all the effort that went into the creation of Lady Bird, getting all on paper and then making it happen. Sounds good, but does it measure up to the sheer imagination of, say, del Toro? What do you think? It would be a mistake to rule Gerwig out completely because, again, a victory for her gives the Academy an opportunity to make a statement, that is, reaffirming, or maybe just affirming, that women have indeed come a long, long way in the Hollywood hierarchy. Still, for all her movie’s heart, with its two nominated performances, Lady Bird is not as technically accomplished as either The Shape of Water–with its three nominated perfs–or Dunkirk. Plus, Gerwig is still a novice compared to some of her competitors. Okay, Peele is also a novice, but his movie scores as a pop-culture phenom.

Dunkirk provides Christopher Nolan his first ever shot at the Best Director Oscar though he boasts previous noms for writing, or co-writing, screenplays for Memento and Inception, both of which he directed; of course, the latter was a big-time blockbuster that also scored a 2010 Best Picture nod, seizing 4 technical awards (from a pool of 8 noms), but, again, no nomination for Nolan as director? Really? How’s that? Nolan may very well be overdue here, and, certainly, Dunkirk works as a smashing testament to his talents. Again, a war film that shifts from land to sea to air with each unfolding scenario populated by its own unique cast of characters–until, of course, everything converges in a tense finale. No nominated performances, but that might not matter given the sheer number of actors that Nolan directs–everything from such stars as Kenneth Branagh, Mark Rylance (2015’s Best Supporting Actor), Tom Hardy, Cillian Murphy, and Harry Styles, to less familiar players in secondary roles, along with hoardes of bit players and extras. All this on top of the technical challenges of creating (or recreating) a war epic on film, widescreen no less. Oh, and Dunkirk performed impressively at the box-office, earning over 500 million worldwide (180+ million in the states). A bigger concern than the lack of performance nods, something that did not hinder the likes of, say, Bernardo Bertolucci (The Last Emperor, ’87), Mel Gibson (Braveheart, ’95), or Peter Jackson (Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, 2003), again, among precious few others, is the simple fact that Academy members have already honored directors for war films, three of the most famous being Oliver Stone (Platoon, ’86), Steven Spielberg (Saving Private Ryan, ’98), and the aforementioned Kathryn Bigelow (2009’s The Hurt Locker). This is not to say that Nolan can’t win; after all, his nomination definitely puts him in the game, but my thought is his skillful handling of Dunkirk‘s tricky narrative pales against del Toro’s creative vision. Unless, of course, the Academy feels Nolan is somehow overdue harking back to his body of work that also includes, besides the above titles, such behemoths as Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and Interstellar.

The final nominee is Paul Thomas Anderson for The Phantom Thread, perhaps this or any year’s drollest romantic comedy. Of course, the film originally generated scads of attention when lead actor Daniel Day-Lewis, already a three time Oscar victor, announced that he would be retiring from films upon completing this project which reunites him with his There Will Be Blood director (aka Oscar number 2). The story concerns a fastidious 1950s era London based fashion designer (Day-Lewis), managed by his dour-around-edges-sister (Best Supporting Actress nominee Lesley Manville), and the peculiarly obsessive relationship he develops with a waitress (knockout Vicky Krieps) whom he casts as one in a string of muses. But this one is different from the others. She has a mind and a will of her own, and that’s a game changer for the workaholic designer. This is a comedy but only in retrospect; the full-blown value of its joke is only apparent upon reflection. Thank goodness the trailer gives away almost nothing. The point is, while DDL’s Best Actor nod was almost a foregone conclusion once the reviews began, Mr. Anderson’s film has exceeded such expectations, corralling a total of 6 nods, including Best Picture and what I believe is a surprise nod for Manville. I, for one, do not recall much buzz around her performance as a possible finalist. The Academy really likes this movie, apparently, and Anderson boasts previous nods for directing (There Will Be Blood) and writing (Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and There Will Be Blood), so that puts him on par with Nolan in the matter of possibly being ripe for “body of work” consideration. Furthermore, make no mistake, even with references to Hitchcock and Welles, of which there are plenty (subtle and not so subtle), this film is still the product of its enterprising director. Oh, and here’s another thing. When Anderson’s favored cinematographer, Robert Elswit (an Oscar winner for There Will Be Blood) proved unavailable, Anderson served as his own director of photography. Double duty. On the other hand, the film isn’t pulling in the numbers to elevate it to the level of a significant achievement, and that likely hurts given this year’s roster of strong competitors.

If I were voting, I’d vote for…wait for it…Martin McDonagh, the UNnomimated director of  Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, boasting 7 nods, including Best Picture and a trio of acting nominations for Frances McDormand (Best Actress), Woody Harrelson (Best Supporting Actor), and Sam Rockwell (the favored Best Supporting Actor champ). How McDonagh slipped through the first round of balloting is beyond me–but oversights like this happen frequently. To clarify: McDonagh, along with del Toro, Peele, Gerwig, and Nolan, was in the running for the DGA prize. Apparently, he was bested in the Oscar balloting by Anderson. So be it. I’m fine with any of the official nominees if slightly biased toward Peele or Anderson, but del Toro is the single candidate with a film that scores as a technical achievement as well as a showcase for performers in three categories.

Thanks for your consideration…

She Lives: Natalie Wood’s “Stranger” Star Wattage

“I’m going to have a baby.”

The line comes barely seven minutes into the movie. It might only be the character’s third line. At that point, the audience knows nothing about the woman. Nothing. With that in mind, why would we, or should we, even care? In the next breath, she asks the good looking man standing in front of her if he can help secure the services of a doctor who will help terminate the pregnancy. Of course, she doesn’t come right out and articulate her request directly, per 1963 mores, but her meaning is unmistakable: she wants an abortion, and she needs help. Presumably, the guy she corners in the middle of a bustling union hall is the father though his memory is, well, a little cloudy. The audience knows only slightly more about him than her. He’s a musician who hustles for gigs and has an eye for the ladies, so he needs a minute to collect his thoughts.

Interestingly, in spite of Love with the Proper Stranger‘s seemingly unconventional storyline, star Natalie Wood was not the only 1963 Best Actress nominee who portrayed an unwed expectant mother. French actress Lesley Caron, who had made a huge splash in American movie musicals, and Oscar winning Best Pictures, such as An American in Paris (1951) and Gigi (1958) scored a nod in the British made The L Shaped Room.  Both lost to veteran Patricia Neal in Martin Ritt’s Hud. Author Danny Peary snatches Neal’s Oscar and  awards it to Caron in his book, Alternate Oscars. He doesn’t give Wood so much as an Honorable Mention for Love with the Proper Stranger; however, he writes  glowingly of Wood elsewhere in the book, rhapsodizing about her 1961 Oscar contender, Splendor in the Grass. If there were ever a year in which a performer seemed particularly ripe for Academy honors, it was Wood in 1961. First, she pushed herself to extraordinary heights as a young woman suffering the crushing confusion of her first sexually charged romantic attachment (in the form of no less than studly Warren Beatty, his film debut) in William Inge’s Splendor, a hit with the public and critics alike. In one scene she tries so, so hard to maintain after being put on the spot in a high school English class, but nerves get the best of her, and the defeat is overwhelming. Another standout is when what should be a relaxing soak in a warm bath turns into a well meaning but awkward confrontation with her mother,  one that sends the frightened young woman into a furious panic that is impossible to dismiss. Brilliant. But that’s only half of what Wood accomplished in 1961. She was also star-billed in the year’s leading contender, the big screen adaptation of West Side Story,  Broadway’s landmark musical update on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, reimagined as a stylized tale of warring gangs on the streets of New York, marked by Jerome Robbins’ innovative choreography and Leonard Bernstein’s thrilling score (with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim). It scarcely mattered that Wood was cast as a Puerto Rican character, that she had a wobbly accent, or that her singing was dubbed by ever-reliable triller Marni Nixon (whom I love), because she brought emotional authenticity and a lilting presence to her character, and the public ate it up, resulting in  long runs in theatres (such as Dallas’ own Esquire), beaucoups soundtrack sales, and a whopping 11 Oscar nods, the most of any 1961 pic. By any measure, Wood had enjoyed phenomenal success in 1961, but she still went home empty-handed even though West Side Story cleaned-up, nabbing trophies in 10 categories, including Best Picture, Best Supporting Actress (Rita Moreno), and Best Supporting Actor (George Chakiris) while Splendor’s William Inge was likewise honored by the Academy. Wood lost in her category to Sophia Loren in Two Women, a history making win for a performer in a non-English language film.

I bring this up to make the point that in order to begin a film exactly as I have described, the director surely knows that if he (in this case, yes, he) expects the audience to stick with the story for its duration, said audience has to connect to the speaker straightaway. It’s a matter of trust. Here is where being a great star is probably more important than being a great actress (or actor). In this case, the speaker is none other than Natalie Wood, a child actress (1947’s Christmas classic Miracle on 34th Street, among others) who grew up to be one of the biggest stars of the late 50s and beyond–though her heyday was clearly the early-to-mid 1960s. Her male co-star in this scenario, btw, is no less than Steve McQueen, but, take note, the charismatic actor is/was second billed to Ms. Wood, a powerful testament to the actress’s uncontested stature in the Hollywood hierarchy [1]. The movie is Love with the Proper Stranger, directed by Robert Mulligan, this, a year after his instant classic, To Kill a Mockingbird.

I have plenty of reasons, good reasons, to rhapsodize about Love with the Proper Stranger. First, it’s relatively new to DVD. As far as I can tell, its September release, per Kino Lorber, is its first-ever in DVD format–oh yeah, and Blu-ray. This is a movie one of my best friends and I have been waiting to find on home video for a long, long, time. Both of us were certain that once the studios, most famously Warner, ventured into print-on-demand DVDs, it would only be a matter of time before Love with the Proper Stranger would be lifted from the vaults. Indeed, it was a matter of time, a long time.

I think, more importantly, Love with the Proper Stranger is noteworthy because it represents Wood’s third and final Oscar nomination, following a supporting nod for 1955’s Rebel without a Cause (at age 17) and a Best Actress bid for 1961’s Splendor in the Grass (age 23). Wood still had her share of hit films after Love with the Proper Stranger, including Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice and the moderately successful The Last Married Couple in America, with George Segal, along TV triumphs such as fresh adaptations of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and From Here to Eternity along with The Cracker Factory, and others. To further clarify, a reminder of Wood’s third and final Oscar nod in her decades long career is worth noting because it re-emphasizes what a huge talent, and, yes, a huge star she was.

See, a few years ago, Debra Tate, the sister of the late Sharon Tate, wrote/published a magnificent coffee table book, Recollection, celebrating her exquisitely beautiful sister’s exciting life. Per the surviving Tate, the public’s fixation on Sharon’s savage murder has overwhelmed the reality of who she was as a person. For example, as much as I have read about Sharon, and for all the times I’ve watched her seemingly effortless performance as a doomed starlet in Valley of the Dolls, I didn’t know she was born in Dallas, at Methodist Hospital, until I read her sister’s book; likewise, a long time ago I wrote that Rock Hudson’s stature as a genuine movie idol has long been overshadowed by his unfortunate passing. Much the same can be said for Wood. Every now and again, a source comes to light regarding Wood’s mysterious death in 1981, drowning after falling from a yacht–named Splendour–following a night of alleged revelry during a break from shooting a movie entitled Brainstorm. Briefly, the “mystery” is whether Wood, who had a long-avowed fear of water, actually fell from the yacht–or was she pushed? If so, who did it? The likely suspects, or persons of interest, include a famous co-star or her husband.

This ongoing circus of sensationalism, surrounding a tragedy that might never be resolved, unfortunately distracts from Wood’s breathtaking career, her talent, and, yes, even her dark eyed beauty. She had a face that could hold the camera, so to speak, and seemingly from any angle. Not to mention a knockout smile, a saucy voice, a hearty laugh, luxurious dark hair, and a heck of a figure.  Curvy but extra petite. Yet for all that,  Wood possessed a simmering talent, one that took awhile to emerge, but once it did, she knocked the socks off critics and audiences alike, and they rewarded her by buying tickets and propelling her toward the tops of the box-office charts.

So, Love with the Proper Stranger. Wood portrays Angie, a Macy’s sales clerk who can’t get away from her traditional Italian-American family’s cramped apartment soon enough, especially as that pertains to the ever-watchful eye of older brother (per Herschel Bernardi). Besides the tailing and snooping Angie endures, her fretful mother aligns with Bernardi, routinely, to fix the young woman up with a suitor–for her own good, of course. The unrelenting pressure on Angie pushes her to a breaking point, and she dodges the household just long enough to seek momentary comfort in the arms of a stranger, McQueen, again, if only for a night. To reiterate, their tryst occurs off-screen before the  film ever begins, and the audience can’t be certain how the lovers’ paths ever-crossed in the first place, given that Angie scarcely finds a moment’s privacy amid the day-to-day familial dynamics; nonetheless, Angie finds a way to escape the constant gaze, leading to the complication that prompts her to track down McQueen’s Rocky at the union hall. Clearly, they are not an item with Angie holding no illusions about her value to the musician with his roving eye.

Make no mistake, Love with the Proper Stranger thrives on the star wattage generated by Wood and McQueen, not just because it opens with the announcement of an unwanted pregnancy, but because however well done, it’s an obviously uneven film. The first half concerns itself with the two leads working toward the goal of eliminating said pregnancy: first by securing the funds–there’s always a catch, right?–and then by eluding Bernardi and others, such as a second brother played by Harvey Lembeck [2], who have pieced together the complete picture of Angie and Rocky’s dilemma and want McQueen to pay, flesh and blood style, for his role in the deed. That this is the driving point of a major studio release–Paramount–in the early 1960s, staggers the imagination. The whole thing builds to a harrowing encounter that pushes Angie to emotional exhaustion. Afterward, Angie and Rocky begin learning more about each other and sorting whatever feelings they have developed in the process. Incredibly, after such a dramatic start, the second half is noticeably lighter, more comedic, in tone. Plus, the movie doesn’t seem to end as much as it just seems to stop–and rather abruptly. Uneven, right? Even so, the star players make a compelling, fascinating,  onscreen duo, bringing out the best in one another even, or especially, in the quiet moments.

Interestingly, it’s McQueen’s Rocky who pushes for a more committed relationship, including marriage, but Angie isn’t so sure. She knows she’s sexually attracted to McQueen–she has a pulse, after all–but she can’t determine if she genuinely likes him for who he is, nor is she certain his feelings for her or genuine. Plus, even though she has recoiled at some of her family’s well-meaning match-ups in the past, she entertains the advances of such a suitor, a timid–clumsy–restaurateur from an equally opinionated family. Angie is sure she doesn’t really love this “Anthony Columbo,” but it matters less to her than the idea that he’s devoted and has the potential to be a good provider; after all, McQueen’s Rocky is a musician without a steady paycheck, not to mention a sometime squeeze played by vivacious glamourpuss Edie Adams. To Angie’s mind, the trappings of romantic love–bells and banjos, she describes them–are not only unnecessary but messy and complicated. She makes a good argument, but, then, that’s one of Wood’s strengths as an actress: making sense of difficult emotions in order to foster audience empathy.

Btw, Angie’s mild mannered suitor, Anthony Columbo, is spectacularly played by no less than Tom Bosley, who would later become a TV staple, mostly through his beloved role as Mr. Cunningham on Happy Days in the 1970s; however, before settling into steady work on the small screen, Bosley had already conquered Broadway as a Tony award leading man in 1959’s hit musical Fiorello, based on legendary New York City mayor Fiorello LaGuardia (yes, of the same LaGuardia airport); that same show’s honors, btw, include multiple Tony wins and a Pulitzer, but I digress. Bosley’s Columbo looks too old for Angie–and that’s probably true. Bosley was in his early-to-mid thirties at the time, but only a year or two older than McQueen.

Love with the Proper Stranger opened to “brisk” business as described by Christopher Nickens in the book Natalie Wood: A Biography in Photographs (121); moreover, the movie scored in numerous other ways, earning a Writers Guild nod for scripter Arnold Schulman. Interestingly, Schulman was nominated in the category specifically for comedies though Wood and McQueen competed for Golden Globes among the entries for drama. Again, the movie is uneven, difficult, and difficult to categorize. The film as a whole earned 5 Oscars nods, including one for Schulman along with nominations for its black and white cinematography (Milton R. Krasner, All About Eve, Three Coins in a Fountain, etc.), art-direction, and costume design–no less than the redoubtable Edith Head. Nominations for Bosley and legendary composer Elmer Bernstein would not have been out of the question. Alas, no wins though Wood was likewise in the running for a Laurel Award, per trade mag Motion Picture Exhibitors.

So, here we have it. One of Natalie Wood’s most celebrated films is finally being released on home video, providing fans an opportunity to fall in love with her all over again and creating opportunities for the uninitiated to discover one of the brightest stars from a particular era in Hollywood’s history, but once again, the headlines are full of renewed investigations into her demise. Of course, justice must prevail, but I heard a morning TV show commentator say something to the effect that it was her death that made her legendary, and I firmly and fervently disagree. She’s a legend because she lived.

Thanks, Natalie…

[1] Regarding McQueen’s billing, please note that he was not the first choice for the role. By many accounts (including one of the DVD commentators), the first choice was no less than Paul Newman, a more firmly established star than McQueen at the time. Who knows if Wood could have retained top-billing if Newman had been cast. At any rate, McQueen quickly caught up with Newman in terms of box-office clout, and the two superstars enjoyed a kind of not-so-friendly professional rivalry that peaked with 1974’s The Towering Inferno, a box office blockbuster and major Oscar contender, their only joint-venture, that is, after failing to come to terms regarding 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and only after exacting contract negotiations on Inferno regarding star billing and even parsing the number of lines each spoke in the script.

[2] Coincidentally, Lembeck, known for his work on TV (The Phil Silvers Show) and the movies, playing biker Eric von Zipper in all those Beach Party flicks in the early 1960s, also worked as Tom Bosley’s understudy in Fiorello! on Broadway.