7 Down, 3 to Go: Richard Rush for The Stunt Man

RICHARD RUSH FOR THE STUNT MAN (1980)

The competition (Cliff: 5 for 5!)

Robert Redford for Ordinary People

David Lynch for The Elephant Man

Roman Polanski for Tess

Martin Scorsese for Raging Bull

NOTE: dark blue text denotes individuals who won Oscars for the film being discussed, while light blue indicates those who were nominated.

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I can only imagine what it would have been like for Richard Rush to make The Stunt Man, a film that implicitly presents the director as divine figure. Peter O’Toole claiming to channel David Lean in his creation of Eli Cross, presents the director as something between God the Father and God the Son, both serenely shaping reality to his will and fervidly preaching to his followers to accept his vision. I got a lot of pleasure out the film’s subtle and not-so-subtle allusions to Cross’ divinity—his sudden descents into the world of the other characters via crane and helicopter, the effulgent beams of light that frame his appearance, his divine voice booming out over the landscape. However, what really expressed this theme was Rush’s own bag of filmmaking tricks, which continually reasserts the director’s total control over the reality we see. The carnage on the beach, which tricks the assembled onlookers, spells out as clearly as possible the unguessable design behind our perception of reality. Even after this pattern is set up, though, I found my viewing habits so strong that I fell time and time again for Rush’s sleight of hand—particularly the hidden segue from one aerial stunt to a completely different setup, fused together because they were cut as though inside Eli’s completed film. All apparent danger in the film turns out to be mere mischief conjured by Cross and Rush in tandem.

1 Down, 9 to Go: Herbert Brenon for Sorrell and Son

HERBERT BRENON FOR SORRELL AND SON (1927/28)

The competition (Cliff: 3 for 3!)

Frank Borzage for Seventh Heaven

King Vidor for The Crowd

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The First Academy Awards teemed with films that depicted the grim battlefields of World War I (Wings, Two Arabian Knights, Seventh Heaven), but Herbert Brenon’s Sorrell and Son was perhaps the only one to look past the conflict itself to the story that followed. The film begins at medal ceremony at the war’s conclusion, compressing an entire film’s worth of battlefield heroics into a single title card:

The story that follows will test what remains of the valiant soldier as he suffers quiet humiliations of a veteran fending for himself and his son. A forerunner to Oscar giants like The Best Years of Our Lives and Coming Home, Brenon’s sensitive paternal melodrama handles the compassionate look at the difficulties of a man trying to rebuild a life for himself from the ground up. The second half of the film (in an era before Hollywood began streamlining its storylines) focuses on the son he strove to raise, now a successful surgeon but not exempt from dramatic misfortune.  Brenon handles the paternal melodrama with a sensitive hand, placing his emphasis on H.B. Warner’s stoic endurance of his lifelong travails.

The Home Stretch: Merle Oberon in The Dark Angel

(the 6th of the 25 remaining Best Actress nominees!)

MERLE OBERON IN THE DARK ANGEL (1935)

The competition (Cliff: 5 for 6):

Bette Davis in Dangerous

Elisabeth Bergner in Escape Me Never

Claudette Colbert in Private Worlds

Katharine Hepburn in Alice Adams

Miriam Hopkins in Becky Sharp

The Dark Angel, as befits any Sam Goldwyn Production, is almost pure archetype: a youthful love triangle, with the two boyhood friends called off to the Great War.  The one whom the girl really loves dies in combat, and she becomes engaged to the other, who has long pined for her.  However, her true love reappears from the ranks of the dead, suffering from blindness (not amnesia, disappointingly), and after much proud suffering and self-denying, the destined lovers are properly reunited.

What the story asks of Merle is strictly perfunctory, as the spirited beauty for whom both men lose their heads.  I imagine that most of her fans would rather have seen her nominated for the storm and stress of Wuthering Heights, but in this tastefully reserved melodrama she also works to great effect.  Early scenes of the carefree young nymph work nicely, thanks to her ethereal beauty (a friend pointed out that Merle is the only Best Actress nominee of Asian lineage).  However, her star power begins to shine as she begins to suffer, particularly in the climactic meeting with her long-lost love.  Her eyes water with silent yearning when he won’t return her gaze (for reasons as yet unknown), and with every temptation to squeeze out those tears for the camera, Merle plays the scene with tender restraint.  These poignant closeups, coming at the end of the movie, certainly helped her stand out in the field that year—my final vote for 1935 still goes to the sharp-tongued, modern manipulator in a 17^th century England played by Miriam Hopkins in Becky Sharp, but I’m glad that Merle earned a place in this marathon.