by Lynn Lee
The weirdest aspect of this year’s Best Picture race may be its lack of weirdness. For an Oscars season that the COVID-19 pandemic first threatened to derail and then expanded, in which the vast majority of voters saw none of the contenders in theaters and almost no traditional Oscar campaigning, the path to the Academy’s biggest prize has been, on the whole, remarkably smooth. With few real curveballs either in the nominations or in the precursor awards, some might even call it a little dull (especially when compared to how bonkers some of the other categories have been). On the bright side, the final lineup of BP nominees is pretty solid, even if I’d rate First Cow above them all and would happily swap out The Trial of the Chicago 7 for at least a half dozen other films. Here’s my take on each of the nominated movies, in ascending order of personal preference.
8. THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7
It has all the ingredients of a Best Picture: a historically significant, politically topical story, an impressive ensemble cast, and a screenplay by Aaron Sorkin, the master of punctuating witty banter with eloquent speeches. Unfortunately, the end product is handicapped by uninspired direction as well as odd writing and editing choices that tend to dilute its emotional impact—culminating (or rather, fizzling) in a dud of a final scene that falls utterly flat while trying to sound an inspiring closing note. Perhaps the real trial was too messy and protracted to lend itself to A Few Good Men-style Sorkinization, perhaps there were simply too many players to give them their full due in just over two hours, but it doesn’t really jell either as a courtroom drama or as a behind-the-scenes treatment of the Chicago 7 8. For a far more powerful depiction of how the forces of law and order have historically been called to account (or not) for systemic discrimination and suppression of peaceful protestors, you’re better off watching Mangrove, the superb first installment of Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series—or, for that matter, Chicago 7’s fellow nominee Judas and the Black Messiah.
Odds of winning?
Decent – probably the best among the nominees not named Nomadland. It’s the closest to a mainstream, middle-of-the-road crowd-pleaser and it won best ensemble at SAG, so there’s clearly residual goodwill for it among likely Oscar voters. But who exactly is passionate for it?
7. MANK
Say what you like about Mank or its period authenticity (or lack thereof), it looks great; after Nomadland, it’s the film I most regret not being able to see in a theater. The acting, too, is very good across the board. Its biggest problems, ironically for a movie about the writing of an iconic screenplay, lie in the unevenness of its own screenplay, famously penned by David Fincher’s own dad. Mank toggles between two time frames – the writing of Citizen Kane by a sequestered, washed-up Herman Mankiewicz and the memories of his earlier, high-flying days hobnobbing with the Hollywood elite. While the former sequences drag, the latter are quite compelling, showing how Mank’s darkening view of the hand that feeds him exacerbates his own guilt and self-loathing. For me, the most intriguing aspect of the film isn’t its embrace of a debunked theory of Kane’s authorship but its exposure of Hollywood’s complicity in exploiting labor, turning a blind eye to rising fascism, and even manufacturing political propaganda (literal “fake news”), all to protect its own narrow interests.
Odds of winning?
Surprisingly low considering it racked up the highest overall number of nominations. Conventional wisdom holds that Hollywood loves to honor movies about making movies, but Mank isn’t exactly an affectionate or nostalgic look back at Hollywood’s Golden Age. To the contrary, it maintains a critical distance from the myths it’s portraying, which isn’t calculated to win over Oscar voters.
6. JUDAS AND THE BLACK MESSIAH
Fred Hampton’s too-short life as a rising Black Panther leader and his shameful murder-by-cop is a story everyone should know, and its relevance today speaks for itself. Judas tackles this difficult material with both nuance and control, without lapsing into heavy-handed polemic. Gripping, suspenseful, and stunningly shot, it rides on the strong lead (yes, LEAD) performances by Lakeith Stanfield and Daniel Kaluuya as the titular Judas and Messiah, respectively. Yet as I discussed in my review, the film fails to provide any real insight into the connection between the two men or the core of Stanfield’s character. The effect is to keep viewers at a distance when it should be drawing them in most closely.
Odds of winning?
I suspect better than most pundits think, though a win is unlikely. Frankly, if contemporary resonance were the deciding factor for best picture, Judas would be well positioned to take this, even though it’s pitted against several other nominees that tap into the current political zeitgeist. The double nomination of Stanfield and Kaluuya for supporting actor, while ludicrous, also indicates widespread support for the film.
5. SOUND OF METAL
No hearing-related joke intended when I say that this is the quietest of all the BP nominees. Its scope also feels the most intimate and narrowly drawn, which actually works to its advantage given its singular focus on Riz Ahmed’s terrific performance as a heavy metal drummer who’s forced to confront the nightmarish reality of going deaf. Although the film’s trajectory may seem predictable – with Ahmed’s character basically moving through the five stages of grief – it doesn’t always go where you expect it to and maintains a delicate tonal balance between empathy and objectivity. It’s also helped enormously by a sound design that evokes the protagonist’s aural displacement to marvelous effect. Also, the last two scenes are hands-down the most poignant and perfectly pitched final scenes of any movie I saw in 2020.
Odds of winning?
Low, simply because it feels so much smaller and less flashy than most of the other nominees.
4. PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN
Among the nominees, Emerald Fennell’s debut (and what a debut!) crackles and pulses with the most subversive energy, thanks in large part to Carey Mulligan’s revelatory turn as the woman who just can’t let go of the friend everyone else done wrong and then forgot. Less a revenge thriller or dark comedy than a psychodrama with razor-sharp satirical edges, the film’s pitch-black but carefully modulated rage strikes an unsettling counterpoint to the soft pastels of its visual style. While the script repeatedly upends expectations – sometimes at the expense of plot plausibility – it also pushes the audience to recognize not just the violation but the erasure of women who are denied any kind of acknowledgment, much less justice. The resulting tonal whiplash is very much intentional, leading to a gut-punch of an ending that’s at once a fierce blow against rape culture and a grim concession to its primacy. Not everything about the movie works, but it will get under your skin and stay there.
Odds of winning?
Extremely low. This is the most divisive of the nominees, and is unlikely to appeal to the more conservative members of the Academy, even though its fans really love it.
3. THE FATHER
The most impeccably crafted of the nominees, and quite possibly the best stage-to-screen transfer I’ve ever seen. In adapting his own play, Florian Zeller counterintuitively uses its most play-like features – small cast, limited space, repeated conversations, and ambiguous temporal jumps – to project the increasing disorientation of the protagonist’s declining mind onto the audience with amazingly cinematic fluidity. My one reservation is that the film is almost too cerebral (somewhat ironic for a movie about dementia). Its puzzle box-like structure kept me so busy trying to figure out what was “really” happening that it tended to distract me from just how devastating the whole situation was, notwithstanding the exquisitely heartrending performances by Anthony Hopkins and Olivia Colman. On reflection, though, that’s part of the movie’s genius in capturing the viewpoint of the afflicted man who observes the distress of those around him without really registering or processing it.
Odds of winning?
Fairly low, given the film’s late general release and that it is both apolitical and lily-white in a year where most of the other contenders, even the ones with historical settings, feel highly attuned to the political currents of today. It does pose the uncomfortable question of whether The Father could win any of the Oscars it’s up for without provoking backlash, even though no one who’s seen it could reasonably deny it would be a deserving winner in all its categories. For better or worse, however, I don’t think the Academy will put itself in that position.
2. MINARI
Y’all know I can’t be objective about this movie because it is so personal for me. Which may be why its awards season success has felt like a mini-miracle in a generally surreal year. Minari is, by design, a modest, culturally specific family drama, even something of a period piece, set in the 1980s rural Arkansas of Lee Isaac Chung’s boyhood. Yet Chung and his wonderful cast transform it into a relatable story not just for Korean Americans, Asian Americans, immigrants, or even Americans, but anyone who’s ever been uprooted or attempted to realize a personal dream against long odds. The film isn’t perfect: the dramatic climax in the third act feels a little forced, its resolution a little too neat, and the conclusion a little too abrupt. However, these flaws ebb quickly from memory in favor of the tender, funny, and poignant dynamics of the Yi family and the verdant, if capricious, landscape in which they seek to carve out their own Garden of Eden. Whether or not Minari is the best of the nominees, it’s easily the warmest and most endearing.
Odds of winning?
I remain skeptical that Minari can score an upset. The same voters who love it probably also love Nomadland and may rank the latter a smidge higher, and there’s also likely a contingent with the asinine mindset “We honored a Korean movie last year, we don’t need to do it again this year”—never mind that while Parasite was a Korean production, Minari is American, or that the two films are completely different in tone, structure, and content. That said, I do wonder whether Minari might benefit from the recent surge in activism against anti-Asian racism following the recent Atlanta spa shootings. I don’t think that would be enough to put it over the top, but stranger things have happened.
1. NOMADLAND
Not everyone may be on board with what Chloé Zhao is doing at the intersection of fictional film and docudrama, but I find it absolutely fascinating and worthy of all the accolades she’s received. Nomadland blurs the boundaries further with the addition of Frances McDormand as a purely fictional character—though you wouldn’t know it from her lovely, understated performance, which blends in seamlessly with the nomads playing versions of their real selves. Unlike the book, Zhao avoids focusing on the late-stage, corporate behemoth-driven capitalism that created the nomadism phenomenon, preferring to highlight the unlikely beauty and dignity of these makeshift, itinerant lives and the simultaneously fleeting and enduring bonds they form with one another. But the sense of the American Dream as illusory promise still pervades the film as a whole, underscored by the spare yet gorgeous cinematography, which casts the grandeur of the American West with a melancholy that feels at once modern and timeless. Nomadland may well be the Grapes of Wrath of our generation.
Odds of winning?
It’s the frontrunner for a reason.
Conclusion
The race is still Nomadland’s to lose, though there’s a lurking possibility of a Director-Picture split with Trial of the Chicago 7 (which would be deeply annoying) or Minari (less likely but much more palatable).