Oscars 2018 TRIVIAL: Mexico, Other Minorities, and Women Steal the Show--As Does the Power and Magic of Movies

For better or worse, the 90th Academy Awards last Sunday night will go down in history as another milestone ceremony. And many different groups and cultures were represented or referenced in just about every category, every song, and every tribute.

Let's start with the big winner. For the first time in 14 years (specifically since The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King), the Academy awarded a fantasy film, Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water, as the Best Picture of the year. (Some have even argued it's the first ever science-fiction film to win the top prize. I suppose that's fair, but it's arguably a pastiche of both genres, as well as romance.) Del Toro also won the Best Director prize, making him the third Mexican filmmaker this decade to win, after Alfonso Cauron (2013's Gravity) and Alejandro G. Inarritu (2014's Birdman, 2015's The Revenant). The film also won best production design and best original score.

Speaking of Mexico, the acclaimed Pixar feature Coco (a faithful representation of Hispanic culture) won Best Animated Feature and Best Original Song (the loving "Remember Me," written by Frozen lyricists Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez), as well as some Mexican shout outs by presenters Oscar Isaac and Lin-Manuel Miranda, respectfully.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri received kudos for stars Sam Rockwell (who won Best Supporting Actor) and Frances McDormand (who won Best Actress). McDormand went on to acknowledge every single female nominee in the room, and even called for "inclusion riders." Many were also impressed and humored by presenters Tiffany Haddish and Maya Rudolph, whom they've claimed should host next year's ceremony.

And it wasn't just women or people from Mexico who were acknowledged. Films revolving around communities of African-Americans (Jordan Peele's original screenplay for Get Out was the first to be awarded to an African-American), LGBT individuals (Chile's A Fantastic Woman, about a transgender woman, won Best Foreign Language Film, while James Ivory's adapted screenplay for Call Me By Your Name made him the oldest Oscar winner to date), and real-life figures (Gary Oldman won Best Actor for his superb performance as Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, which also won for its equally superb makeup and hairstyling, while Allison Janney won Best Supporting Actress for her hard-as-nails role as Tonya Harding's abusive mother in I, Tonya).

It's interesting to note that Darkest Hour's two wins mark the first time in six years that a film won in both a makeup and an acting category (the last being The Iron Lady, which won for makeup and Meryl Streep's third gold statue). Retired basketball superstar Kobe Bryant now has his own gold statue to put beside his many NBA trophies, winning Best Animated Short film ("Dear Basketball") along with Disney animation veteran Glen Keane. (Bryant and Oldman, however, have received criticism due to past misconduct allegations that have faced.)

Veteran cinematographer Roger Deakins has been nominated a total of 14 times in his 28-plus years in the film industry, and he finally won for his work on the eye-popping and mind-bending sci-fi sequel Blade Runner 2049 (which also won for its visual effects). Dunkirk, meanwhile, collected three is its eight nominations in the technical categories, while Phantom Thread was awarded Best Costume Design (and winner Mark Bridges won a jet ski for having the shortest Oscar speech).

Though Lady Bird didn't win any of its five awards during the evening, writer-director Greta Gerwig's presence was arguably one of the show's highlights. Emma Stone even emphasized Gerwig's importance while presenting the Best Director award ("These four men and Greta Gerwig"). Either way, this was a ceremony that acknowledged dreamers and moviegoers of all backgrounds. It also reminded yours truly of the power and magic of movies.

REVIEW: "Phantom Thread" Reveals a Haunting Ghost of Hitchcockian Romance

Paul Thomas Anderson has built a filmmaking career out of exceptional yet challenging craft. His resume tackles everything from stories set in his native San Fernando Valley (1999's Magnolia) to early-19th-Century tales of greedy oil drillers (2007's There Will Be Blood), 20th-century religious cult leaders (2012's The Master), and even Adam Sandler in his most poignant and human role at the time (2002's Punch-Drunk Love). His latest, Phantom Thread, reunites him with the legendary Daniel Day-Lewis (who has gone on record to say this is his final on-screen role) as a famous dressmaker, by the name of Reynolds Woodcock, in 1950s London, and more specifically the relationship he develops with his latest muse.

A man of routine and a very specific lifestyle (with help from his sister, Cyril), Reynolds visits the countryside one day and is immediately smitten with Alma, a local waitress who feels the same way. The plot is as simple as that. What follows is a maze of romance that is, at times, beautiful, while other times psychological. In fact, one of the first things the unmarried Reynolds tells Alma about himself is that he is "incurable," and that "marriage would make him deceitful," considering expectations and assumptions of others.

Other themes that flow--or rather, needle their way--into the fabric of this film include fashion, obsession, occupation, desire, voyeurism, betrayal, disconnect, and secrets. Is Reynolds' relationship with Alma a real one, or just a mere professional one? Could the same go for his feelings, considering women come and go in his life, until that changes with Alma? "I feel as if I've been looking for you for a very long time," he tells her, despite being bitter when his routine is interrupted. Did I mention that Anderson has a tendency to, at times, unsettle audiences, such as having characters stare blankly at the camera (like Cyril, played by Leslie Manville). The late Jonathan Demme was known for this as well.  (Remember those moments in The Silence of the Lambs?

Daniel Day-Lewis

Anderson's filmmaking choices here feel very intimate, arthouse, and feel as if they were absolutely made around the film's time period, with All About Eve and Hitchcock films as potential influences. Jonny Greenwood's classical-style score is captivating, and the dressmaking world (courtesy costume designer Mark Bridges) is impeccable, as is the production design (social life, tastes in fashion, status, etc.). The sound design choices are interesting as well, particularly the sounds of food (buttered toast, munched eggs, and mushrooms).

Day-Lewis is as riveting and brilliant as he is, from his character's nuances, his hair style, his quirks, and his tendency to repeat himself; he uses his natural English voice, as a rarity. (A couple sitting behind me at a second screening I attended said he was "perfect for this role.") But it's the stunning Vicki Krieps who guides and develops the emotional core of the film as Alma, as she pursues a real relationship with Reynolds, whom she has grown fond of and concerned over. ("I want to know him in my own way," she tells Cyril.) She is just as compelling, complex, and unpredictable as Day-Lewis, and can amazingly hold her own by going from precocious to vulnerable to betrayed ("Nothing is normal, it's all a game," she argues) to mildly sinister, and back again. The way they dance (or play) between intellect and control is an emotional roller coaster, sometimes an unsettling one, such as when Reynolds expresses his need for Alma "to keep my sour heart from choking me" and other times expressing disdain for how she complicates his routine over time and regrets letting her into his life ("There is an air of quiet death in this house, and I do not like the way it smells.") One character says, contrarily, "A heart that doesn't change is a dead house."

Although not overtly explicit, there is a thorough feeling of quiet spirituality that underlines the film, including secrets that echo such spirituality. Reynolds' memory (and image) of his late mother is the prime factor here, as is some possible superstition of her wedding dress (which finds its way into a particular scene that represents the film's title, as well as a showcase for Day-Lewis). "It's comforting, to think the dead are watching over the living," says Reynolds, "I don't find that spooky at all."

Vicky Krieps

The quiet effect that Alma creates (at least the way Reynolds sees it) is quite stirring, and the way she decides to take control of it becomes very haunting. Let's just say you'll never think of mushrooms the same way again after seeing this, in terms of making somebody ill and vulnerable, so they can settle down and be "strong" again. Haunting, for sure. On their first date earlier in the film, Alma tells Reynolds honestly, "If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose."

Upon first seeing the film (an exceptional yet challenging one), I took Reynolds as a character who is never really satisfied, and who apparently has a tendency to make his muses into ghosts. With Alma, I see her as a character who demands to get through to him, but in the most misguided (and perhaps twisted) way possible. "To be in love with him is a mystery." Indeed.

REVIEW: "The Post" Grips Audiences With a Familiar and Timely Story

It's almost hard to believe that Steven Spielberg's latest film, The Post, was made with such a sense of urgency. But maybe that's a compelling feet regarding the real-life parallels of the pacing and urgency within the film's subject matter. Completed over a period of nine months, including three months of filming (May to July 2017) while editing was completed two weeks later during post-production, the script by first-time screenwriter Liz Hannah (with help from Spotlight writer Josh Singer) serves as an on-the-edge-of-your-seat political thriller that grips audiences from start to finish.

Opening during the Vietnam War in 1966, with dualities between security and defense, optimism and pessimism, reporter Daniel Ellsberg (Matthew Rhys) makes the daring and controversial move in leaking out a highly-classified and "sensitive" document, which became known as the Pentagon Papers, and exposing what turned out to be a jaw-dropping cover-up on the aforementioned war that spanned four presidencies. John Williams' prologue score underlines the gravity and shock of the situation, and the ultimate decision that leads to the Papers' exposure, which began at the New York Times and, most important, the Washington Post in the early 1970s.

The Post is actually two stories in one. On one hand, there's the central story of the Washington Post's printing of the Papers, guided by editor Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks). On the other hand, it's the story of Katherine Graham (Meryl Streep), who became the first female head of a Fortune 500 company after her late-father and late-husband (whom she lost to suicide). It's also about her coming to her own as a leader, not just as a woman, as she contemplates the ultimate and potentially costly decision (complete with potential court hearings and imprisonment) to publish the Papers. Both stories deal with the roles of gender and power, a surprising parallel, perhaps, to, what's been going on in the news and world these days. "The only way to reserve the right to publish is to publish," we're told by a Post representative.

The film has a near-masterclass in direction, acting, photography, and precision. Like All the President's Men (based on the Watergate investigation that the Post covered one year after the Pentagon Papers), we know the outcome of the story, and yet we're still floored and surprised up until the end. (Without spoiling, there's even an homage to the Watergate story.) Spielberg's direction and Williams' heart-pounding score add the right touch. The always dynamic Hanks and Streep lead a first-rate cast that includes Bob Odenkirk (as Post writer Ben Bagdikian), Bruce Greenwood (as former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara), Tracy Letts, David Cross, Bradley Whitford, and Michael Stuhlbarg. And it shouldn't be taken for granted the number of female crew members and actresses who worked on this film as well, including Sarah Paulson (as Bradlee's wife, Tony), Carrie Coon (as Meg Greenfield), Alison Brie (as Graham's daughter, Lally), writer Hannah, and producers Amy Pascal (former Chairman of Columbia Pictures) and Kristie Macosko Krieger (an assistant to Spielberg since the late Nineties). (Click here for a CBS interview with Hannah and Pascal in January.)

(l-r) Meryl Streep, Steven Spielberg, and Tom Hanks behind the scenes

Katherine Graham was a woman who represented somebody who was in a position that others believed she shouldn't be in, and even initially relied on others for her decisions before making her own. Hannah and Singer's screenplay is smart to include Graham and Bradlee's family lives, as well as the belief in bravery and heroism on display (as Bradlee's wife claims), and the importance of holding others accountable.

Recalling what the company stands for, Graham states their mission was "to serve the nation and to the principles of the free press" (i.e., our First Amendment rights, according to the Constitution). The real-life court decision, which resulted in the Press winning a 6-3 voting, equally mentioned that "the press was to serve the governed, not the governors." Finally, Graham describes the press as "the first rough draft of history." In other words, it's not perfect, but we keep at it. Now that's an urgent message in an urgent film.