Readers' Ranking: Streep's Oscar Noms, #5-1
Monday, February 6, 2012 at 1:45PM We started this blogging experiment by asking readers to rank all the Streep Oscar Nominated performances they'd seen. Then we shared reader stories of how you first discovered Streep. I tabulated all the results, weighting the ballots so the readers who had seen the most films counted for more. Now we've reached the tippity top of Streep performances! For what it's worth, the top six (including Kramer Vs. Kramer) were the clear winners of your collective hierarchy and numbers two through four were closely bunched together in your estimation, each threatening to take spot #2 with each new ballot that arrived, though eventually they settled into their current positions.
STREEP'S OSCAR-NOMINATED PERFORMANCES RANKED
According to Film Experience Readers (We didn't include The Iron Lady since it's brand new)
16-11
Music of Heart, Ironweed, One True Thing, French Lt's Woman, Deer Hunter, Doubt
10-6
Julie & Julia, Out of Africa, Postcards, Cry in the Dark, Kramer vs Kramer
05. Adaptation (2002)
Role & Balloting: Streep's terrifically clever performance as a heightened version of Susan Orlean, the real life writer who wrote the non-fiction book The Orchid Thief that Nicolas Cage's fictional screenwriter (and Charlie Kaufman stand-in) tries to adapt into a movie in this twisty comedy [whew], is the one many fans point to as "this is what she needs to do more of!" This role was in first place on only 3% of ballots, less than any of the other films in the top six, but it was on nearly every ballot (widely seen) and usually in the upper half.
Who Won the Oscar: Catherine Zeta-Jones, Chicago
Other Nominees in Guesstimate Order of AMPAS Love: Meryl (Adaptation), Julianne Moore (The Hours), Kathy Bates (About Schmidt) and Queen Latifah (Chicago)
The Dread Sixth Place Finish?: It was Michelle Pfeiffer, SAG nominee, on the outside looking in for White Oleander. I still blame the Golden Globes for that one as they stalled her momentum by fawning over a miscast and dull Cameron Diaz for Gangs of New York.
Reader Notes and Four More Greats after the jump...
Reader Note. Jamie writes...
Growing up I was aware of Streep only because my mother would watch Sophie's Choice, Silkwood, and Out of Africa on HBO. I knew, to some extent, that she was considered a great actress, but at that point was too young to care. The first movie I really remember seeing her in was She-Devil, and I thought she was hilarious... Then I saw Bridges of Madison County....and understood all the hoopla.I am drawn to Adaptation in a lot of ways. Maybe because we are in Awards season, and everyone is saying she needs to be in a film with strong director, etc, and everyone seems to forget - she actually HAS done that, too. Meryl's performance in Adaptation made the public fall in love with her all over again. Having sent off the kids to college, she just seems freer in her work here. For me, it was the beginning of a very clear choice of doing ANYTHING she might want to do, without worrying too much about schedules, or awards, or her overall career. Though most people may not recognize it, Adaptation was a rebirth for her. And it's something that continues to this day.
04. The Bridges of Madison County (1995)
Role & Balloting: While Streep has had as many love interests as anyone in the movies, this is one of only two of her key films that you might call "romantic epics" the other being Out of Africa. Lots of readers fell hopelessly in love with this lonely Italian housewife, Francesca Johnson. It was #1 on 13% of the ballots.
Who Won the Oscar: Susan Sarandon, Dead Man Walking
Other Nominees in Guesstimate Order of AMPAS Love: Meryl (Bridges), Sharon Stone (Casino), Elisabeth Shue (Leaving Las Vegas) and Emma Thompson (Sense & Sensibility)
The Dread Sixth Place Finish?: This was probably Jennifer Jason Leigh in Georgia who at the time seemed to be battling it out with Elisabeth Shue for that final slot. Tough to imagine that Shue's sensational performance (statue worthy) was not a sure thing at the time but that's the way it was playing out in a very strong Best Actress year. In the summer when Bridges opened, the commonly held belief was that Streep would finally win her third. But nobody watching then knew just how many great and popular performances were just around the corner.
Reader Note. Ryan was actually the one that gave me the idea of pairing reader photos with Streep photos by sending this mashup in - thanks Ryan! He writes:
Before ever having the pleasure of viewing a single one of her Oscar-nominated performances in its entirety, I first encountered Meryl Streep around the age of ten after squirming by way onto the living room coach while my parents watched The River Wild. The moment I recall being most viscerally struck by was the over-the-shoulder look Streep gives Kevin Bacon when she realizes he’s blithely watching her skinny dip. Those deer-in-the headlight eyes, simultaneously flickering with a fraught realization that her dubious suspicions have been confirmed, left an indelible image in my mind.
And while I ranked her luminous work as The Bridges of Madison County’s Francesca Johnson in third place, it still deserves as much attention as her widely beloved and discussed back-to-back turns in Sophie's Choice and Silkwood. The chemistry between Eastwood and Streep is just smoldering and it’s probably my favorite of her adopted accents ever (I just love the way she goes ‘Big, mean yellow dog’ when giving Clint directions)."
03. Silkwood (1983)
Role & Balloting: Hot on the heels of the Oscar win for Sophie's Choice, Streep did an about face with a remarkably dissimilar character playing the true story of Karen Silkwood, a woman who fought against shady dealings at the nuclear power plant she worked at. This was the only performance outside of Sophie's Choice that had zero last place votes and despite being missing from 18% of the ballots it won 15% of first place votes on the ballots that included it, the second highest number of first place finishes. It's the one Meryl performance I'd most recommend to younger readers given that it's underseen today and holds the distinction of being not just one of Streep's best performances but easily one of her greatest films. Bonus points: it began her fruitful film collaboration with Mike Nichols which led to Postcards and Angels in America, too.
Who Won the Oscar: Shirley Maclaine, Terms of Endearment
Other Nominees in Guesstimate Order of AMPAS Love: Debra Winger (Terms of Endearment), Meryl (Silkwood), Julie Walters (Educating Rita) and Jane Alexander (Testament)
The Dread Sixth Place Finish?: I've always wondered if this wasn't Bonnie Bedelia in Heart Like a Wheel?
Reader Notes. Adela writes:
I like to think that Silkwood is one of Meryl's roles where she's closest to her real personality. And the scene on the porch with Cher is my favorite in her filmography."
Nick, who has written wonderful Meryl pieces, considers it her best work and he says:
I picked this performance because it's the perfect melding of all the 360º technique people love (or don't) in Streep and the lived-in, regular-gal spontaneity that many people wish she got to demonstrate more often - except in interviews, where she often brims with it. She is completely uncondescending to everything about Karen that a lot of movies and performers would implicitly condescend to, even while lionizing her courage - "Can you believe this woman, in this part of the country, with this mess of a personal life and this haircut was actually capable of such bravery and insight and heroism? I mean, seriously, this woman is from Oklahoma!" She's both hugely likable and a little frustrating, and I think she's got more interesting and plausible dynamics with Russell, Cher, and her co-workers than she did with Kline and MacNicol - she's unambiguously the star and yet very much part of an ensemble. (I love her scenes on the floor of the plant, with David Strathairn and the other wage-slaves.) You end the movie furious at how she was treated, inspired by what she did, and also somewhat suspicious that if you spent time with her in real life, you'd occasionally get a little fed up with her."
02. The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Role & Balloting: "GIRD YOUR LOINS!" This is the one that won Meryl a whole new rabid legion of younger fans to go along with all her aging devotees. You have this film to thank for all the subsequent leading roles since they don't generally hand those roles to 60something women. This performance had half as many first place finishes as Silkwood or Bridges but was the most widely seen of all 16 performances and was generally high up on the ballots.
Who Won the Oscar: Helen Mirren, The Queen
Other Nominees in Guesstimate Order of AMPAS Love: what does it even matter? Mirren was hundreds of miles ahead of the competition which was so strange for such an incredibly vibrant field. But maybe it landed like so: Meryl (Prada), Penelope Cruz (Volver), Kate Winslet (Little Children) and Judi Dench (Notes on a Scandal)
The Dread Sixth Place Finish?: The Oscar nominees were like a brick wall all throughout precursor season so whoever was sixth was a distant finishers. I'm guessing it was Maggie Gyllenhaal's electric work in Sherrybaby.
Reader Note. Murtada writes:
Prada is what made me rediscover Meryl. The performance was so brilliant and funny that I went back and appreciated other movies. Plus the movie is so entertaining and bears multiple visits. My fave of her recent performances though is The Hours [Not Nominated]. She was so open, and available emotionally with no pretense or vanity. When she breaks down in the kitchen I just wanted to crawl into the screen, quietly lie next to her and give her the biggest hug. And the speech she gives in bed about how happiness is always remembered not lived is my fave movie quote of all time."
01. Sophie's Choice (1982)
Role & Balloting: Sophie Zawistowski. Her name is hard to say but she is easy to remember. Meryl's role as a haunted concentration camp survivor who'd very much like to forget was the one that vaulted her into the pantheon and probably the one that started all the Greatest Living Actress talk which completely stuck once she followed it up with so many different accents and characters. The reader ranking wasn't even a contest. This was #1 on 43% of the ballots.
Who Won the Oscar: Meryl Streep (2ND WIN!), Sophie's Choice
Other Nominees in Guesstimate Order of AMPAS Love: Common wisdom has it that Jessica Lange (Frances) would've won the Oscar in any other year and that's probably true. Frances was Maximum Baitiness but Sophie was Sophie. After Lange, Debra Winger (Officer and a Gentleman) who famously quipped that even she voted for Meryl, comeback queen Julie Andrews (Victor/Victoria), and Sissy Spacek (Missing).
The Dread Sixth Place Finish?: Maybe Diane Keaton in Shoot the Moon? I wasn't yet paying attention. Anyone have a different idea?
Reader Notes. Beau writes:
I grew up in a house where movies were for entertainment only. When I began renting her films and learning about her career film became more than just entertainment. Sophie's Choice I remember watching when I was 15. I was at Video Shack in my hometown and my mother and I were looking for movies to rent for the weekend. I found the Sophie's Choice vhs with the cover that had Meryl Streep looking beautiful and Kevin Kline gently kissing her cheek and Oscar almost as big as the title and it was the movie I wanted to see. My mother asked me three different times if I was sure it was the movie I wanted because she had heard that it was a sad movie, but I would not be dissuaded. It broke my heart and even to this day gives me goosebumps."
Are you happy with the way the numbers shook out? Feel free to share any thoughts this brings up in the comments or what you still hope to see Streep play in a movie someday.
Reader Comments (91)
Nathaniel, if you do do the great Bette Davis - Streep's personal favorite - then please be sure to include her performance in Of Human Bondage. The outcry was so great when the morons in the Academy failed to nominate her "greatest performance ever recorded on screen" per Life Magazine (back then, THE mag), the Academy opened the voting to write-ins. In the end, Claudette Colbert still won (possibly as much for Imitation of Life & Cleopatra as It Happened One Night), but Bette finished 3rd, ahead of nominee Grace Moore. In the end, I think that means its a nomination. If that's not convincing enough, the write-in rule continued into 1935, when Hal Mohr won Best Cinematography for A Midsummer Night's Dream, without having initially been nominated.
Personal guesses for the #6 spot in Streep's years:
1978 - Angela Lansbury - Death on the Nile (won the National Board of Review)
1979 - Valerie Harper - Chapter Two (Globe nom, Mason nom)
1981 - Faye Dunaway - Mommie Dearest - NY Film Crix runner up, lots of mentions
1982 - Diane Keaton - Shoot the Moon - she was robbed, and there was nobody else
1983 - Barbra Streisand - Yentl - if Amy Irving could be nom'd, Babs was likely close
1985 - Cher - Mask - but don't forget about Norma Aleandro in The Official Story, NY Film Crix winner for Best Actress, and the Oscar winner for Foreign Film (since they idiotically didn't nominate masterpieces like Ran and Come and See deeming them ineligible)
1987 - tough one - maybe Lillian Gish (and Bette Davis?) for The Whales of August (winner of National Board of Review in tie with Holly Hunter), maybe Faye Dunaway for Barfly or Christine Lahti for Housekeeping or Diane Keaton for Baby Boom or even Streisand for Nuts. Strong year, odd to think that Cher's sweet but light performance won.
1988 - shoulda been Susan Sarandon for Bull Durham but bet it was Shirley MacLaine for Madame Suszatzka since she tied for the Globe
1990 - Mia Farrow - Alice (National Board of Review)
1995 - Jennifer Jason Leigh - Georgia, won the New York Film Crix award, while Kidman won the Globe but the Globe was for Comedy, the competition was in drama - so close, but picking Leigh, whom also was robbed for Mrs. Parker & the Vicious Circle and especially Last Exit to Brooklyn
1998 - Ally Sheedy - High Art
1999 - Reese Witherspoon - Election
2002 - Michelle Pfeiffer - White Oleander, but I bet Patricia Clarkson in Far From Heaven also came close
2006 - Beyonce - Dreamgirls (but as stated by others, the 5 that year were locked)
2008 - Sally Hawkins - Happy Go Lucky - robbed!!!!
2009 - Emily Blunt in Young Victoria but gotta mention Yolande Moreau's great performance in Seraphine, she should have won (or Carey Mulligan, imo)
2011 - Tilda Swinton - We Need to Talk About Kevin
Nathaniel, with your permission:
MARCOS: wow, that's amazing you've seen all those nominated peformances. I'm missing about 15 among the 4 categories. May I ask, how have you found all those films? I search youtube, netflix, etc., but many are still impossible to find.
Also, you'll be pleased to know that The Trespasser can be found on youtube if you search, I just viewed it about a month ago.
Thanks!
OHHHHHHH :) I had so much fun with this - and spend much too much time in front of your page while I had to do loads of stuff & the sun was calling to get out of house here in Africa - thanks Nathaniel !
brandz asked: How many Oscars should Streep have by now?
Actually looking back at all the years, the Academy did a pretty good job in awarding outstanding performances (except in my books the past years were underwhelming - 2006 (Felicity!) / 2009 (Meryl) / 2010 (Annette)
So I would have given her 4 & 1/2 by now - (2002 & 2009 definitely) - and a tie for 2006 - as much as I adore Mirren, I would have loved to see Meryl taking Oscar home for "Prada" as well - it was the most memorable, sharp & spectacular performance that year - no doubt!
And somehow I'm pretty sure she's having fun following this ranking project Nathan...
we're just waiting for your list now !!
OHHHHHHH :) I had so much fun with this - and spend much too much time in front of your page while I had to do loads of stuff & the sun was calling to get out of house here in Africa - thanks Nathaniel !
A K. Hepburn ranking would be very tempting!
brandz asked: How many Oscars should Streep have by now?
Actually looking back at all the years, the Academy did a pretty good job in awarding outstanding performances (except in my books the past years were underwhelming - 2006 (Felicity!) / 2009 (Meryl) / 2010 (Annette)
So I would have given her 4 & 1/2 by now - (2002 & 2009 definitely) - and a tie for 2006 - as much as I adore Mirren, I would have loved to see Meryl taking Oscar home for "Prada" as well - it was the most memorable, sharp & spectacular performance that year - no doubt!
I'm still not sure that she will get her 3rd Oscar ... but honestly who else could have taken on the challenge to play Thatcher (Mirren again yes... any others?) or Miranda Priestly?
And somehow I'm pretty sure Meryl is having fun as well following this ranking project Nathan...
We're all just waiting for your personal list ?!!
I'm always slow to see most actors nominated works, but I have seen 8/12 of Katharine Hepburns, missing the two from the 30's and the two middle nominated performances from the 50's. Only seen 4/11 from Bette Davis.
This has inspired me to watch all of the movies I haven't seen when I have time. :) I think I'll start with Silkwood.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X7uznGSeJY
Has anyone see this before??? So sweet; I love it!
Nathaniel please answar how many oscars do yo think meryl deserves to win? for which movies?
amir -- i think i've answered this before but i probably would have given Streep the Oscars for
KRAMER
SOPHIE'S
SILKWOOD
PRADA
though thoee aren't, exactly, my top four performances. So four. but, that said, no way would i have nominated her 17 times ;) she may well be hte greatest living actress but she's not the greatest performance each year which i think is knid of a strange thing about her fans -- this need to believe that she deserves the oscar *every* year. No offense. Obviously I myself am a Meryl fan but she doesn't deserve to be nominated every year.
but i did have fun doing this project.
BEN: Thank you for the information about The Trespasser!
Hey, with your own record –missing only 15 films of all the nominated performances in the four acting categories– you’re not far from me. I am missing 5!
Now, how did I manage to see 99.68% of all nominated performances in Oscar history?
To begin with, starting around 1967 I have made it a point to see every single nominated performance. So for the last 45 years I have seen them as the films were released.
That left the first 30 years of the Academy. Particularly in the 60s and 70s, TV in Argentina –my home country– showed many classic movies; one every day for sure. I started making a list so I could be sure of having my records right.
There came a point when I was missing films that were not easily available. It help that I lived in the US from 2004 to 2010. I scoured the Web (iOffer, eBay) and could find most of them during that six-year period (The Patent Leather Kid, A Ship Comes In, The Mark, Give’em Hell, Harry, etc.). I will admit, though, that a few of those VHS or DVDs were of dubious origin.
The Way of All Flesh is now a lost film, but I saw it when I was taking a Film Appreciation seminar in 1971 (I was 17). I still wonder if the film may be misplaced somewhere in the vaults of the Argentine Film Museum, where they found the more complete Metropolis copy in 2008.
Sadly, I will never be able to see ALL the performances because two of the films are also lost: The Patriot (1928) and The Rogue Song (1930).
Marcos -- i hope you saw Nick's Best Actress project. He saw EVERYTHING. Including The Barker. Apparently you can see it in California at a university library. you have to watch it there though.
i am so far from being close to this so i applaud you.
I really enjoyed this project; thank you for posting it! I'm so glad to see Prada at #2 (and I guess I qualify as an in-between Meryl fan...? Not an old-timer, but not a new fan either). It easily deserved the Oscar that year, and it's one of my favorite performances of the last decade.
Glorious work, Nate.
But, Devil Wears Prada at #2?
LOL, no.
I think it would be interesting if you had your readers rank the non-nominated performances in order, citing the top 5 which were deserving. There will be some problems because of a second movie being eligible the same year she actually was nominated.
I'd rank the non-nominated performances this way....
5 A Prairie Home Companion (2006), just edging out Marvin's Room (1996)
4 Death Becomes Her (1992)
3 The Manchurian Candidate (2004)
2 The River Wild (1994)
1 The Hours (2002)
Nathaniel thank you so much for your answars but im again here with 2 new questions
1.who do you think deserves most acting oscars in oscar hictory?
2.which meryl movies(not her performance ,i mean the movie itself) do you like most?
again thank you very much
RJL -- i really really need a Meryl break but it would be fun otherwise. maybe next time she's up for an Oscar in 12 months ;)
Amir -- question number 1) god, i haven't a clue.i'd have to go over every year in history No time for that. as for question 2) FAV MERYL MOVIES AS MOVIES, INDEPENDENT OF HER PERFORMANCE. #1 Manhattan (in my top ten of all time) #2 Postcards From the Edge (i love every second of this movie) #3 Silkwood (one of the only true story biopics that is just completely awesome) #4 Kramer vs. Kramer #5 The Hours
Nathaniel, you state you would not have nominated Streep 17 times. Let's think about the great performances for which she was not nominated. The Hours. Marvin's Room. Prairie Home Companion. The Manchurian Candidate. That's four, maybe there are others. So Streep doesn't get nominated for every film, and certainly not every year. Which performances would you have omitted for nominations? The only one I can think of is Music of the Heart. But I think I would include several of the above non-nominated performances, giving Streep more than 17 nods!
I can't believe no one mentioned A Cry in the Dark where Meryl has a freaking flawless Australian accent and plays a completely heartless Lindy Chamberlain, the woman who was accused, found guilty and then exonerated of killing her own child. It is one of my favorite Meryl performances, probably right below Sophies Choice. It was basically the Casey Anthony murder trial but 30 years ago (the movie came out in 1988).
That was my year of heartache because Glenn Close lost in her best role ever for Dangerous Liaisons because Jodie Foster won her 1st Oscar for getting gang raped in The Accused! I was rooting for Glenn and would have been happy with Meryl but when Jodie won it was a stab in the heart... Other also rans that year were Melanie Griffith for Working Girl (ha!) and double-nominee Sigourney Weaver losing Best Actress for Gorillas in the Mist and Best Supporting for Working Girl.
I agree with the 2nd place. Meryl redefined female villainy with her role in TDWP. She reinvented herself even. It wasn't until I saw her as Miranda Priestly that I started rooting for her to win that darned 3rd Oscar so badly.
Mad Professah -- A CRY IN THE DARK came in at #7 if you click to the previous post at the top of this one. Agreed that 1988 was a dark dark dark year. Glenn Close shoulda had that one, especially since Susan Sarandon wasn't nominated.
Meryl's performance in Prada is my 2nd favorite of the past decade, behind only Kate Winslet for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Gage -- good taste you have :)
If there's any Oscar snub for Meryl, I would say The Hours would probably be it. I think she could have been nominated for that that year instead of Adaptation.
@RJL:
Death Becomes Her would be a close second to The Hours because she was absolutely hysterical in that! But I'm guessing the only thing that held her back was the fact that Death Becomes Her was a fantasy film, which is usually hit-or-miss for the Academy.
Thank you for what must have been very, very, very hard work.
Having read many of the comments on posters' first Streep film, I wonder where "Death Becomes Her" would have landed if it had been nominated. (For me, very high. I still quote from it. And I'm an Old.)
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
First: not to be a stickler, but Sophie's last name is spelled "Zawistowska" (there is only one "i" in the name). Rudeness is not my intention; however, being a writer, it's difficult to let such a thing go unnoticed.
Finding in Ms. Streep much inspiration (rather, I think, akin to the way she felt about Barbra Streisand when she -- Ms. Streep -- was younger), there's not a performance she's given that I've missed.
As for the voting and tallying, there's not a performance in the list with which to find fault. Yet I would be remiss if I didn't mention Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing." She was matched with wonderful actors (Renee Zellweger, William Hurt, Tom Everett Scott) and a nice adaptation from Karen Croner of Anna Quindlen's novel. Carl Franklin (director of "One False Move") observed the story with much grace and, at times, harrowing verisimilitude.
Of the latter, it was Ms. Streep who allows we, the audience, to witness what is clearly the most difficult event to occur in any life: the ravages of a terminal illness on those whom we love.
Now, there a lot of films that deal with this subject in a way that manipulates viewers' emotions; "One True Thing," however, is not one of them. It does was the best films do: it earns our emotions... and does so by simply telling the truth -- which is far more affecting and devastating than those films that intentionally pluck at our heart-strings.
Kate is a wonderful character, and rather a thankless one, too. This is through no fault of her own (it is ours, frankly); for simply, and far too often, we do not appreciate as we should those in our lives who make the greatest impact and who have the hardest jobs on the face of the earth: mothers.
Of course Ellen, Kate's eldest, must come to this realization given the conflict of the film: she is her mother's polar opposite -- in effect, her mother is her worst nightmare. The idea of being a homemaker, of gleaning a day's excitement in the pursuit of buying yarn or baking a pie -- these things cause Ellen's blood to run cold. For Ellen is a writer, and ruthless at her vocation. No surprise then that, when Ellen must take a hiatus from her job and return home to care for the ailing Kate, she responds to it as one would to a prison term.
Ms. Streep is so utterly convincing -- so effortless -- as Kate that we can see why Ellen feels the way she does. It's one of many great facets of Ms. Streep's talent -- she understands impllicitly the importance of listening (it's everything in performance as well as writing), and offers to the other actors what she herself needs to perform. No one acts alone, really; those in a cast must enable one another. If you're not listening, what you're doing falls flat, becoming mere trickery, sleight of hand. You must defend your characters (as Ms. Streep never fails to do), because no one else is going to do it for you.
One believes in Kate, and is often surprised when she offers us views of what lies beneath the surface of her "happy homemaker" surface. Consider the scene in which Kate (trying to alleviate the tension Ellen feels at having been dragged back home) suggests she and her daughter form a book club. They read "Little Women," and when Kate starts to speak of her feelings regarding Ms. Alcott's characters, one sits up (as Ellen does) and takes notice. As it is with Kate it is with any human being: there's more here than meets the eye. She is fiercely intelligent.
Then Kate -- the one who has always held things together; who has always provided the nurturing, the soothing balm to various hurts -- becomes ill. She deals with this as best she can, though as her illness intensifies, she starts to lose her social graces bit by bit. To Ms. Streep's credit, she makes these moments subtle and so human that it's almost hard to watch them as they happen. And what vestigial dignity to which she manages to hold on, she is none too pleased to give up.
But Kate, never one to leave something undone, then sets upon settling affairs -- one of which is trying to reconcile the sudden anger Ellen feels toward her father. Kate, in the bedroom, going through family photographs and such, sets Ellen straight on what truly matters in life. Kate is blunt, though not uncaring; direct, though not overbearing. It's Ms. Streep who allows us to understand, through her performance (and in this scene), how quickly those things which consume and annoy us -- all of the ires, large and small -- simply fall away when we realize that life is being literally cut short. This woman, even though battling cancer, does not curl up into a ball and blow away. She's steadfast, always moving forth.
But it isn't easy (Ms. Streep knows enough not to present Kate as some kind of "untouchable saint"). Consider something so simple as taking a bath. Kate, in the tub, calls for the nurse who makes routine visits to the Gulden home, for she (Kate) needs help getting out of the bath. The nurse (Teresa) is not there, and it's Ellen who comes to the door to help. Hearing her daughter's voice, Kate quickly assuages: "I'm fine." But Ellen, knowing something's amiss, enters the bathroom to find her mother -- horribly thin, her hair depleted to a chick's fuzz -- sitting in the tepid water. "I can't get out," Kate says, and in her voice is such shame, such humiliation, that this viewer almost had to step out to the lobby for a moment.
Shortly thereafter, Kate ( now in her dreaded wheelchair) tells Ellen she needs a pill. As Ellen goes to get it, we stay with Kate, who emits a sound -- a kind of low, elongated moan -- that speaks of true pain stripped to its essence. "This isn't living," Kate says, "no it isn't, either." It's the single moment in the film in which we see Kate feeling sorry for herself -- and again, there's such truth to Ms. Streep's performance that it's almost too hard to watch. (On a technical note, I think Ms. Streep might have been wearing dentures in this scene; the same dentures, in fact, she wore whislt playing Sophie. You see, in a scene not included in "Sophie's Choice," but present in Mr. Pakula's screenplay, Stingo walks in on Sophie whilst she has said dentures out -- he's horrified, as is she. It's one of those small details about which I've wondered; who knows if I'll ever learn the answer.)
Then there's also a scene which takes place during a tree-lighting ceremony. "Silent Night" is being sung. Watch Ms. Streep here. If you're not moved, you need to check yourself for a pulse.
And then comes the final stage (as Ms. Kubler-Ross described it). It's difficult to write about, because Ms. Streep plays it so convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that this viewer is certain she had to have witnessed it herself in real life. Watch the way Kate's body turns against itself; the little flinches and jerks her hands give as a result of her body's reaction to the morphine she's been given. Or how she is consciously thinking of each breath she is taking; or the way she hallucinates whilst sleeping (yes; Ms. Streep even conveys this -- watch the film, it's there).
Such strength and dignity -- such willingness -- she shows in her desire still to care for others at the cost of caring for herself. This isn't a performance about resignation; it's a performance about fighting on until one's body simply gives out.
Sometimes you see a film, and in that film will witness a performance that is based wholly upon truth -- no matter if it's truth that is almost too much to bear. This is what Ms. Streep accomplishes with Kate Gulden. Dying isn't easy, and she doesn't condescend to an audience by pretending that it is. As played by Ms. Streep, Kate is full-blooded, human, real. She has a light, and watching as that light becomes slowly extinguished... there are no words to describe such a feeling.
But it's a feeling I knew decades before seeing "One True Thing," for I experienced it firsthand when, in 1979, two weeks shy of my ninth birthday, I watched my father die of cancer (multiple myeloma and plasmacytoma). Then, in the mid-1990s, when in my twenties, I watched my maternal grandmother die (lung cancer).
When we see films, we cannot help but to bring to it our own life experiences. As such, if a film deals with a subject we've witnessed firsthand, we may sniff out the fakes quite readily. Because of Ms. Streep's performance in "One True Thing," I may say that it is the most realistic, honest depiction with regard to its subject. It's not so much a film about dying as it is one about living until one simply can't live any longer. And like the greatest art, it reminds us of our greatest attribute as a species: our ability to feel empathy and to exercise it.
It's what Ms. Streep does in so much of her work, but in this performance particularly: she reminds us that we are human. And on a personal note, she allowed me to see my father once again -- not through the eyes of a child, but through those of a grown adult. My gratitude to her for this cannot be measured. So I say: "Thank you, Mrs. Gummer."
Oh, I really love this ranking!
Although mine would be a little different:
5. The Devil wears Prada
4. The Bridges of Madison County
3. Adaptation
2. A Cry in the Dark
1. Sophie's Choice
#6 would be Julie&Julia, #7 would be Silkwood (but I don't mind seeing it at #3 here).
Non-nominated performances I'd rank like this:
5. A Prairie Home Companion
4. The Manchurian Candidat (my god, she was so evil in this!)
3. The Hours
2. Mamma Mia! (yes yes, the film is campy as hell, but it was overacting with such love and joy for life, so I don't care)
1. Death becomes her (it's simply A-W-E-S-O-M-E!)
#6 would be Prime, #7 would be The River Wild.
Everyone has different tastes and that's good.
I would not have Meryl nominated every year, but there are many nominations I'd just have switched. ;)
As for TDWP being so high.... It's a very iconic role. And a lead one.
*lol* Miranda Priestly is NOT supporting!
Anne Hathaway has more screentime. Yes, undeniable, but Meryl has such a strong presence in this movie, even when you don't see her, you can feel she's there.
It's the same with Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs. Scene stealers deluxe.
NATHANIEL: Thank you for your comment. Actually, I have been in contact with Nick and he mentioned The Barker to me. One person here told me The Trespasser was uploaded to YouTube and I have now seen it! So that leaves only four films. Thank you too, Ben, for your tip!
JOHN ZULOVITZ: Your review of One True Thing was excellent. I will see it again and pay special attention to all the scenes you mention.
Joel6: Maybe some of the 15 Oscar-nominated performances you have not seen are availabe on YouTube. I am amazed at the number of films that are up there!
First: I apologize for my post being printed in rather a repetitious manner. My computer went flooey on me.
Second: I saw where another person posted a message in which Ms. Streep's performance in "The Manchurian Candidate" was mentioned. What a great performance. It was nice to see it recognized.
When the film was released, I was surprised that more wasn't made of what Ms. Streep did with the character, Eleanor Shaw. It must have been a daunting task, for she wasn't the first actor to play the role -- that would be Angela Lansbury, in the original, and what a performance that was! Truly iconic.
But Streep brought her own steel and barbed wire to the role. Not fifteen minutes into the film, she has a scene in which Eleanor finds herself facing a roomful of men. The air is rife with political posturing and invective -- and yet it is she who proves to be the most vehement in her convictions. The men all but wither under the heat of her passion. It's rather like watching Diana Christiansen (Faye Dunaway's character in "Network") crossed with a poisonous dose of Medea. Bottom line: do not mess with this woman. Not only does she refuse to suffer fools, she has not one iota of remorse in decimating them.
She has another scene later in the film, wherein she justifies an abhorrent act that has been committed. Again. she finds herself confronted with men (the patriarchal element in the film is handled quite well by Mr. Demme, the director, who plays it for ironic, disquieting effect), and again it is she who seizes the reins. All the while, mind you, whilst wearing "rose-tinted glasses" (wink wink).
When recently I saw "The Iron Lady," I found myself, at times, thinking of Eleanor Shaw. Of course, in channeling Thatcher, Ms. Streep takes such a character's unrelenting conviction even further. Consider the scenes in Parliament, as well as those which occur during a cabinet meeting (she to Lord President Howe: "Are you unwell?"; and then, seconds later, snapping her fingers and saying to him as she motions for his pencil: "Give it to me, give it to me," as a disappointed parent would an undutiful child) -- they are breathtaking.
This latest is a great performance, even though the film itself could have been so much more. Therein lies the ambivalence, I think, which so many have expressed with regard to the film. Here you've a story that deals with the rise (and fall) of a polarizing, real-life person. The political aspects and situations that arose during Thatcher's reign are given cursory consideration; but really, the film isn't so much concerned with them. It is, rather, a film that concerns itself with the price one pays for one's decisions, as well as for the behavior one cultivates. And even more, it is about the cruelty of dementia and of having to live with the choices one has made.
I'm on the fence myself about the film's content, for there is much that could have been included, yet was not. I think, when dealing with history, one should pay the proper attention and represent that history as well as one is able. But Ms. Morgan and Ms. Lloyd chose a different route. But it was their film to make, wasn't it? And on its own merits, I think what was set out to be accomplished was.
Too, there is the question of one's own preferences to be considered. Never have I been a fan of Thatcher, for I do not believe that either human life or the quality of it should be expendable to monetary profit (so unfortunate that there are too many in government who do not feel in a similar way). But because one does not agree with another's views does not mean one should deny her- or himself an opportunity to glean knowledge. Simply writing off another whose views one finds to be anathema to her or his own makes for rather a shallow existence (to say nothing of education).
And that's what makes Ms. Streep's performance in "The Iron Lady" so stunning. As she did with Miranda Priestly, Ms. Streep, with Thatcher, allows for enough empathy so that she may investigate the human pathos with regard to people who themselves were, in their own lives, unwilling to do the same.
As for portraying Thatcher convincingly: spot-on. Just spot-on. So much so, in fact, that watching her performance is downright surreal. One cannot help but to think, again and again: "How does she DO it?"
Perhaps we needn't know. For magic is magic, and we must allow that which is mystical to remain so. A retaining of innocence, if you will.
I'm sorry but Doubt ranks up there in the top 5.