MADness—the Blog

The Hurt Locker won six BAFTA Awards last night in London.  The acting honors, no surprise (and with no argument), went to two Brits.  Here is a rundown of the major prizes:

Best Film — The Hurt Locker
Best Director — Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker
Outstanding British Film — Fish Tank, Kees Kasander, Nick Laws, Andrea Arnold
Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer — Duncan Jones (Director), Moon
Best Leading Actor — Colin Firth, A Single Man
Best Leading Actress — Carey Mulligan, An Education
Best Supporting Actor — Christoph Waltz, Inglourious Basterds
Best Supporting Actress — Mo’Nique, Precious
Best Original Screenplay — The Hurt Locker, Mark Boal
Best Adapted Screenplay — Up in the Air, Jason Reitman, Sheldon Turner
Best Animated Film — Up, Pete Docter
Best Film Not in English Language — A Prophet, Pascal Caucheteux, Marco Cherqui, Alix Raynaud, Jacques Audiard

Avatar won two awards, for production design and visual effects.

Notable line of the night was from Colin Firth:

Firth drew laughs by thanking “the fridge guy” in his acceptance speech, that being the refrigerator repairman who knocked on his door just as he was about to shoot an e-mail to director Tom Ford declining the role of a bereaved gay professor.

“All I know is, don’t ever press ‘send’ until you have had your fridge repaired,” Firth said.

 A recap of awards handed out earlier in the season is here.

I don’t imagine I’m the first to say this, but if Tom Ford, the first-time director and long-time fashion designer, had taken less interest in making A Single Man look so pretty, he’d have had a better movie.  I sat through a good part of the film feeling it was all very neatly arranged, but beneath the surface I wondered if anyone I was watching had a detectable pulse.

The movie comes alive—suddenly—in a scene midway through.  George and Charley, played by Colin Firth and Julianne Moore, spend an evening at her house, and for the first time I believed these were real people, with real lives and real emotions, not mere models posing for the camera.  The rest of the film is fine, and at times, exquisite.  Which seemed odd, since it took such a long time for the film to engage me at first.

The fault wasn’t in the performances.  In fact, the acting was terrific, especially Firth, who plays the English professor who’s lost his lover and whatever reason he had for living.  The film, however, felt overdirected, underwritten, and out of balance.

Leaving the theater, I heard someone laugh.  Without saying too much, I’ll just say that’s not the reaction the filmmakers would have expected.  I didn’t expect it either.  At that moment, I felt a great compassion for Firth’s character.  I hadn’t been sure what I felt, but then I knew.  So the movie worked for me.  A little less pretty and it may have worked even better.