For a film to get two nominations in the Best Supporting Actress category isn't especially rare. Several titles vie for that double spot this year, though Women Talking appears to be most likely to succeed. Jessie Buckley was nominated for The Lost Daughter last season and feels poised to nab a second consecutive honor, while Claire Foy has the other juiciest role. Moreover, this isn't the first time the British actress made famous by The Crown has been a significant player in the Oscar race. Early in the 2018 awards season, she appeared to be a near-lock for her work in Damien Chazelle's First Man, wherein the actress played a variation on AMPAS' favorite stock character – the stalwart wife to "a great man" of history.
As Women Talking is gracing theaters with a new buzzy Foy performance and Chazelle's First Man follow-up Babylon is almost upon us, let's look at her work in the Neil Armstrong biopic…
We first encounter Foy's Janet Armstrong as she stares rigidly from within her husband's arms, red light blaring onto her profile while the sound of medical machinery drones from an off-screen source. The spouses are watching as their two-year-old daughter undergoes treatment for a brain tumor, their faces blank as they'll often be throughout the movie. Rather than presenting us to the character as a peripheral presence to a man's heroic journey, First Man is asking us to consider familial tensions first and foremost, divorced from melodrama or heightened emotion.
There's a severity to these images, a tonality that follows the character outside the hospital and into their home. A cigarette desperately held, a tightness in the corner of her mouth, and a disaffected pleasantry are all we get from Janet before the picture's structure takes us to the funeral of little Karen Armstrong. Even in such settings, the actress repudiates demonstrative emotion. It's a distancing strategy that finds its linchpin in the same evocative minimalism that defines Justin Hurwitz's score; the composer finds twinkling enchantment, and the actress robust strength.
Her work suggests rumbling interiority by projecting nothing, maybe just a sense of emptiness. As much as one might like big acting – and Foy will provide such stylings later in the movie – these understated choices early on represent some of the performance's most exciting material. Grief is played through disconnection, especially as the text bifurcates between scenes of Neil at work and Janet's acclimating to a new suburban existence. The tension of bereaved motherhood never goes away, but it's filtered through gradations of stiffness and politeness.
Commonplace scenes unfold in stilted rhythms, abrasive tidbits that give the mundanity an ineffable strangeness. Though we never get to witness Janet before the tragedy of loss, Foy still delineates the void left within the woman's heart by her daughter's death and Neil's growing absence. Not that Foy or her director is especially interested in exploring the same matrimonial beats typical of biopics. The Armstrong union may be rocked by unimaginable pain and unearthly dangers but its solidity is never in serious question – a curious choice considering the real-life couple's eventual divorce a few decades after the film's events.
Some of this comes from the script and the rest from the chemistry between Claire Foy and Ryan Gosling. Theirs is a partnership of equals, each supporting the other through thick and thin. This connection is the basis of some of the film's best on-the-ground scenes, including Janet's vacant kindness when encouraging Neil to be part of the space program or the unspoken tensions upon the death of a colleague. Melancholy underlines ferociousness, giving the impression of two lost souls trying to find their path through life while holding together against all odds.
It's not always easy. Indeed it's often harrowingly hard to endure the strife that makes one want to close off from the world. And yet, there's balance in the struggle, Neil's isolation counteracted by Janet's probing nature, Gosling's inward-looking characterization contrasted by Foy's aggressive strategies. She attacks the role throughout, crashing into her co-star with eyes that burn like lasers, squared-off shoulders that look perpetually ready for a fight. When she's overcome with concern for her husband in mortal peril, impatience gets the best of her, and she lashes out with controlled authority towards an unruly child.
However, as much as cold fury might characterize these homebound interactions, Foy's most remarkable work comes when Janet is alone listening to the intercom. Then, her entire being appears paralyzed by terror, blue eyes oscillating between frozen stillness and jittery nerves. The stock quality of the role becomes evident in these instances, but so does Foy's concerted efforts to contradict the beatific model established by so many actresses before her. And so, one arrives at the most famous part of Claire Foy's First Man turn, the meme-fied "bunch of boys" speech that captures Janet lashing out against the NASA men who choose to keep her in the dark when a mission goes awry.
Sadly, I'm less in love with the scene than many are, finding it highlights some of the work's biggest fragilities. First and foremost, there's the matter of the actress' vocal cadences, an over-articulated Mid-Atlantic sound that comes off as a compromise between Foy's British vocals and Janet Armstrong's Illinois-born accent. The biggest issue here isn't necessarily a problem of authenticity but an incoherence between the cinema vérité naturalism of the domestic scenes and the actress' palpable artifice. Furthermore, whenever Foy approaches these bigger moments, her adherence to a non-demonstrative register is like a train threatening to fall off the track. In other words, it's too much and too arch.
Sure, these scenes can be riveting and sing when watched by themselves, but they feel out-of-place in context and a deliberate remove from classical character development. Fury fueled by fear is better dramatized when Foy is trying to comfort a widowed friend or, more significantly, when demanding Neil talk to their sons before leaving for his trip to the moon. Though, even then, her silent reactions fascinate more than her line deliveries or more active gestures, transmitting the idea of a mother struggling to hide her panic from the kids. Similarly, Foy shines during Janet's last moments in the film, welcoming Neil in a tense and delicate silence, eyes stern yet gentle, searching. It's an excellent ending for a solid performance.
Despite great expectations, First Man was less embraced by AMPAS than many predicted. The film scored four "below the line" nominations, winning the prize for Visual Effects. As for Foy, she was left out of the Best Supporting Actress lineup after scoring major precursor support from critics' groups, BAFTA, the Critics Choice Awards, and the Golden Globes. In the end, the Academy preferred Amy Adams in Vice, Regina King in If Beale Street Could Talk, Emma Stone in The Favourite, Marina de Tavira in Roma, and Rachel Weisz in The Favourite. It was a volatile race that King won, while Tavira was a surprise nominee few saw coming. To this day, Claire Foy is still waiting for her first Oscar nomination.
First Man is streaming on fuboTV and DirecTV. You can also rent the movie on most platforms.