"Veteran British" director Anthony Minghella died this week - it's been in the news. He has an Oscar, for 1996's The English Patient, perhaps the most poorly remembered winner of 9 Oscars ever, and he directed a few more successful movies on top of that, as well as a couple of duds, and a couple of movies that were supposed to recapture his prestige and didn't.
Scratch that, according to Entertainment Weekly, he leaves a "brief but vibrant" legacy to movies. He "restored prestige adaptations" to Hollywood making megaplexes "safe for adults" once again. He "made Jude Law a star" and "displayed and epic scope and humanity."
Perhaps these things are true, but I think it's actually tough to tell what's true anymore of celebrities after their death, especially in the movie industry. Before Minghella's death due to a brain hemmorhage after cancer operations, there was Heath Ledger's infamous "old story" of exhaustion and pills, and Brad Renfro's older story of heroin addiction in the previous two months alone. A lot of deaths lately, and a lot of selective memories too.
Let me say simply that I think it helps no one to remember these screen personalities as they weren't, or to overemphasize their accomplishments. At Brad Renfro's chilling, too-cautionary death, "I remember seeing him in The Client..." craziness abounded. Renfro had perhaps given foreshadowing to his work in a creepy performance as a stilted, angry adolescent in Sleepers, where he plays a young man acting out vengeance for sexual abuse. Or perhaps he had given foreshadow with his, frankly, terrific performance in Apt Pupil in 1998, where he played... a stilted, angry adolescent, obsessed with a Nazi.
But really, that was it. I cannot recall any performances Renfro gave other than those three, and in speculating on the life of a young celebrity, I have to assume that the anxiety of figuring out the direction of your life ten years after your last well known movie must be incredibly difficult and awful. I can't understand how anyone manages to retain a shred of honest self expression in a land as nitpicky, ruthless, and heavily under scrutiny as Hollywood is. So when people talked about Renfro - and many didn't - it didn't help to discuss his loss as a personal one, as if to exempt us from that culture and create us in a culture that is nurturing of "art and artistic expression." It would be nice if we were, of course, but we are not.
So let us talk about these men as they were. Heath Ledger's death stung more because his successes were so recent, and, I suspect, will be greater after The Dark Knight's release in May, in which his intense method identification with The Joker is rumored to have sent him into therapy. Heath Ledger was a former teen idol with an edge, who, desperate to fully shake off his junky pop movie past, took a daring role as a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain, gave a performance of such precise identification that he made that movie truly work as a recognizable, human entity. Beyond that?
Beyond that, let's not say that Ledger was a great hope of indy acting - he wasn't. He was excellent in a small part in my favorite movie of last year, I'm Not There, but his work did not, as many have said since his death, "steal the movie." Daniel Day Lewis, upon accepting his Golden Globe for There Will Be Blood, spoke of remembering the "power" of Ledger's work in Monster's Ball - I am convinced that there is no way any human being could believe this. Not everyone who remembers the movie (which is, honestly, not many) agrees, but it's a terrible movie, and ask the fans of it what they'd remember, the answer would be Halle Berry, possibly Billy Bob Thornton, not Heath Ledger, although it was certainly a daring choice for him to take a part in the movie. Was he good in the part? I have to believe so, he was talented, but I don't honestly remember.
Beyond that? Ludicrously, in tributes, critics begin to fawn over the junk of his past - Four Feathers! The Brothers Grimm! A Knight's Tale! Huh? When people begin remembering the "sensitivity" he brought as Mel Gibson's son in The Patriot, I think we need to make sure we're talking about the right person here. Ledger was a gifted actor for whom existing in Hollywood probably hastened the causes of his death. He was extraordinary in Brokeback Mountain. Let's not make things up on top of that.
Now the tributes for Anthony Minghella have begun posting left and right, and I'm glad for that, as I hope that any artist is remembered fondly in his death - but I don't wish people to be remembered incorrectly. In discussing Minghella, there is an assumption based on the "epic sweep" and 9 Oscars garnered by The English Patient that everyone remembers the thing fondly, when I would defy you to find five people who remember the movie fondly. That goes double for Cold Mountain, a movie done in by marketing and hype - remember the foofaraw about its (deserved) exclusion from the 2002 Best Picture category at the Oscars? That happened, despite its "epic sweep" and 7 Golden Globe nominations received, presumably, by Harvey Weinstein going door to door with the Hollywood Foreign Press Association.
I'm happy that fans of Minghella's 1990 romantic comedy Truly, Madly, Deeply now feel apt to come forward with their fondness for that movie, although I've never seen it - at least that, to me, seems a genuine bit of appreciation. But looking over the list of his 6 movies, something strikes me to come forward as the sole fan of The English Patient back in 1997, and the only person I know who continues to defend the movie to this day.
I saw The English Patient in January of 1997, and remember it so fondly as the first movie that made me cry in a theater. I fell in love with its tragedy and hope, and applauded loudly alone when it won Best Picture that year, presumably by Harvey Weinstein promising roles to everyone in the MPAA, despite remarkably low ratings (no one tuned in to "watch The English Patient win everything" even though they did tune in in record numbers a year later to see Titanic do the same thing), and the hipster fondness for Fargo, a fellow nominee. I've seen The English Patient twice since then, and haven't liked it as much, though it is still powerful. The sensuousness of its images is still stunning, as are the extraordinary performances by Kristin Scott Thomas and Juliette Binoche (who won a deserved suprise Oscar that year for Best Supporting Actress). The power of its tragic scope, though, is not recreated on subsequent views.
In retrospect, the movie of his I like the most - né, the only other movie of his I like - would be The Talented Mr. Ripley, which, again, was a disappointment at the time - a "prestige adaptation" that was too "dark" and "ambiguous." People expecting a star-studded thriller with Matt Damon and Gwyneth Paltrow instead got a hermetic character study of homoerotic sexual panic and of the ways that social expectations can be all powering. To my shock, I loved the character-based "prestige" of the movie - and the extraordinary performances of which, it's true, helped establish Jude Law as a credible star. The movie is great, and with expectations gone of what's inside, it gets better on repeated viewings.
Minghella was a talent of "epic sweep" who kept his biggest pretentions in check - he was, I think, rather thorough in his large visions, but not showy, despite the beautiful cinematography in all of his movies. Cold Mountain was a crock, as was Breaking and Entering, his fizzled 2003 original thriller with Law and Binoche. That's ok - directors twice his strife have made far more than two crocks, and, whatever can be said about Weinstein's marketing techniques, Minghella's skill sure convinced a lot of people to vote for him for that Oscar in 1996. I'm afraid his namelessness though makes writers think it's ok to exaggerate his accomplishments in the hope that it creates a better story - although, it is in vain mostly, a week from now, people still won't know who he is. The interesting story is this - Minghella directed a few successful movies, a couple were great and allowed us to appreciate something in human behavior and grand storytelling. He made Kristin Scott Thomas an actress who I'll always admire due to one heartbreaking performance, and made me aware of the beauty and sincerity of Juliette Binoche's face, as well as maximized the charisma of Jude Law. That, to me, is a plenty fitting tribute.
Scratch that, according to Entertainment Weekly, he leaves a "brief but vibrant" legacy to movies. He "restored prestige adaptations" to Hollywood making megaplexes "safe for adults" once again. He "made Jude Law a star" and "displayed and epic scope and humanity."
Perhaps these things are true, but I think it's actually tough to tell what's true anymore of celebrities after their death, especially in the movie industry. Before Minghella's death due to a brain hemmorhage after cancer operations, there was Heath Ledger's infamous "old story" of exhaustion and pills, and Brad Renfro's older story of heroin addiction in the previous two months alone. A lot of deaths lately, and a lot of selective memories too.
Let me say simply that I think it helps no one to remember these screen personalities as they weren't, or to overemphasize their accomplishments. At Brad Renfro's chilling, too-cautionary death, "I remember seeing him in The Client..." craziness abounded. Renfro had perhaps given foreshadowing to his work in a creepy performance as a stilted, angry adolescent in Sleepers, where he plays a young man acting out vengeance for sexual abuse. Or perhaps he had given foreshadow with his, frankly, terrific performance in Apt Pupil in 1998, where he played... a stilted, angry adolescent, obsessed with a Nazi.
But really, that was it. I cannot recall any performances Renfro gave other than those three, and in speculating on the life of a young celebrity, I have to assume that the anxiety of figuring out the direction of your life ten years after your last well known movie must be incredibly difficult and awful. I can't understand how anyone manages to retain a shred of honest self expression in a land as nitpicky, ruthless, and heavily under scrutiny as Hollywood is. So when people talked about Renfro - and many didn't - it didn't help to discuss his loss as a personal one, as if to exempt us from that culture and create us in a culture that is nurturing of "art and artistic expression." It would be nice if we were, of course, but we are not.
So let us talk about these men as they were. Heath Ledger's death stung more because his successes were so recent, and, I suspect, will be greater after The Dark Knight's release in May, in which his intense method identification with The Joker is rumored to have sent him into therapy. Heath Ledger was a former teen idol with an edge, who, desperate to fully shake off his junky pop movie past, took a daring role as a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain, gave a performance of such precise identification that he made that movie truly work as a recognizable, human entity. Beyond that?
Beyond that, let's not say that Ledger was a great hope of indy acting - he wasn't. He was excellent in a small part in my favorite movie of last year, I'm Not There, but his work did not, as many have said since his death, "steal the movie." Daniel Day Lewis, upon accepting his Golden Globe for There Will Be Blood, spoke of remembering the "power" of Ledger's work in Monster's Ball - I am convinced that there is no way any human being could believe this. Not everyone who remembers the movie (which is, honestly, not many) agrees, but it's a terrible movie, and ask the fans of it what they'd remember, the answer would be Halle Berry, possibly Billy Bob Thornton, not Heath Ledger, although it was certainly a daring choice for him to take a part in the movie. Was he good in the part? I have to believe so, he was talented, but I don't honestly remember.
Beyond that? Ludicrously, in tributes, critics begin to fawn over the junk of his past - Four Feathers! The Brothers Grimm! A Knight's Tale! Huh? When people begin remembering the "sensitivity" he brought as Mel Gibson's son in The Patriot, I think we need to make sure we're talking about the right person here. Ledger was a gifted actor for whom existing in Hollywood probably hastened the causes of his death. He was extraordinary in Brokeback Mountain. Let's not make things up on top of that.
Now the tributes for Anthony Minghella have begun posting left and right, and I'm glad for that, as I hope that any artist is remembered fondly in his death - but I don't wish people to be remembered incorrectly. In discussing Minghella, there is an assumption based on the "epic sweep" and 9 Oscars garnered by The English Patient that everyone remembers the thing fondly, when I would defy you to find five people who remember the movie fondly. That goes double for Cold Mountain, a movie done in by marketing and hype - remember the foofaraw about its (deserved) exclusion from the 2002 Best Picture category at the Oscars? That happened, despite its "epic sweep" and 7 Golden Globe nominations received, presumably, by Harvey Weinstein going door to door with the Hollywood Foreign Press Association.
I'm happy that fans of Minghella's 1990 romantic comedy Truly, Madly, Deeply now feel apt to come forward with their fondness for that movie, although I've never seen it - at least that, to me, seems a genuine bit of appreciation. But looking over the list of his 6 movies, something strikes me to come forward as the sole fan of The English Patient back in 1997, and the only person I know who continues to defend the movie to this day.
I saw The English Patient in January of 1997, and remember it so fondly as the first movie that made me cry in a theater. I fell in love with its tragedy and hope, and applauded loudly alone when it won Best Picture that year, presumably by Harvey Weinstein promising roles to everyone in the MPAA, despite remarkably low ratings (no one tuned in to "watch The English Patient win everything" even though they did tune in in record numbers a year later to see Titanic do the same thing), and the hipster fondness for Fargo, a fellow nominee. I've seen The English Patient twice since then, and haven't liked it as much, though it is still powerful. The sensuousness of its images is still stunning, as are the extraordinary performances by Kristin Scott Thomas and Juliette Binoche (who won a deserved suprise Oscar that year for Best Supporting Actress). The power of its tragic scope, though, is not recreated on subsequent views.
In retrospect, the movie of his I like the most - né, the only other movie of his I like - would be The Talented Mr. Ripley, which, again, was a disappointment at the time - a "prestige adaptation" that was too "dark" and "ambiguous." People expecting a star-studded thriller with Matt Damon and Gwyneth Paltrow instead got a hermetic character study of homoerotic sexual panic and of the ways that social expectations can be all powering. To my shock, I loved the character-based "prestige" of the movie - and the extraordinary performances of which, it's true, helped establish Jude Law as a credible star. The movie is great, and with expectations gone of what's inside, it gets better on repeated viewings.
Minghella was a talent of "epic sweep" who kept his biggest pretentions in check - he was, I think, rather thorough in his large visions, but not showy, despite the beautiful cinematography in all of his movies. Cold Mountain was a crock, as was Breaking and Entering, his fizzled 2003 original thriller with Law and Binoche. That's ok - directors twice his strife have made far more than two crocks, and, whatever can be said about Weinstein's marketing techniques, Minghella's skill sure convinced a lot of people to vote for him for that Oscar in 1996. I'm afraid his namelessness though makes writers think it's ok to exaggerate his accomplishments in the hope that it creates a better story - although, it is in vain mostly, a week from now, people still won't know who he is. The interesting story is this - Minghella directed a few successful movies, a couple were great and allowed us to appreciate something in human behavior and grand storytelling. He made Kristin Scott Thomas an actress who I'll always admire due to one heartbreaking performance, and made me aware of the beauty and sincerity of Juliette Binoche's face, as well as maximized the charisma of Jude Law. That, to me, is a plenty fitting tribute.
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