Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: Alan Ruck in Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Alan Ruck did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off follows a young man named Cameron as he suffers split personality disorder envisioning his “best friend” Ferris (Matthew Broderick)’s outlandish day off. 

I begin with the oft made joke about Ferris Bueller as a Fight Club scenario, but honestly it works a little too well by just how much Ferris is able to do, get away with and sort of represents a potential idealized version of the “Cool guy” someone like Cameron might imagine for his own day off compared to his actual day off, and if you examine the film from a certain point of view it does all make sense. Ruck is very much the balance of the film, ostensibly as the “uncool” lanky best friend to Ferris but in reality it is Cameron who is anything in the film that doesn’t represent more so that day off fantasy from, for the lack of a better word, more juvenile fantasy. Cameron is the contrast, the reality and the depth of the piece and Ruck’s own performance is key to all of it. Something evident from the opening scenes where you see Ferris, in the fantasy, easily fool his parents by pretending he’s sick to his extremely gullible parents as though we’d be all so lucky to have parents buy everything at such face value. Contrasting that is the more realistic situation when Ferris calls Cameron, who we too see lying in bed though in a genuine stupor. Something that Ferris insists is all in his head, and Ferris is correct, however it isn’t all that simple given it is clear from Ruck’s performance that it is of a psychological pain which Cameron is suffering from. What Ruck does so well particularly given that he was nearly 30 at the time, is embody a specific teenage ennui within his performance from this outset, as what he successfully plays is very much the boy in the man and vice versa a certain constant. Something found in his first scene of explaining to Ferris that he’s at death door with his own self-diagnosis with genuine exasperation of a man fed up with life, however followed by a song about his own doom, which honestly would not work if not Ruck’s performance of it being so pitch perfect that it creates also the sense of the child aspect of Cameron’s approach to the situation. 

The next time we see Cameron it is in a more overtly comedic situation when Ferris is calling the school principal (Jeffrey Jones) in order to get his girlfriend Sloane (Mia Sara) out of school for the day as well, where Cameron is called upon for the ruse by pretending to be Sloan’s father over the phone. Something that is realized through a Gene Saks impression and again you have great work from Ruck in specifically the way he is able to maneuver a more insightful tone in his performance. As in part he certainly does make the joke of the overly haughty sounding father being outraged by the principal, but when he breaks for a moment in the plan, Ruck genuinely is great in being suddenly so honest in revealing much more a teenager’s anxieties over potentially getting caught in this lie. The switch by Ruck feels so authentic from the two sides as he finds his confidence again and gives a very much juvenile grin to Ferris as he proceeds with the impression once more. Where there is a great bit of chemistry shared between the two as you see in that moment 10 year old Cameron and Ferris playing a prank together. Again what Ruck excels with is creating this certain personal limbo that defines who Cameron is during the day off. Before going to get Sloane however Ferris proceeds to want to use Cameron’s father's prized Ferrari for their day’s hijinks. Something that Cameron outright rejects, where Ruck instantly gives you a sense of where Cameron’s state of mind comes from. As he speaks with an understated, but very potent fear, that is part of the idea of taking the car, but Ruck internalizes in his eyes to something deeper alluding to very real terror at the idea of dealing with his father. Ruck in a moment of setting up later events grants us insight into where Cameron is coming from and this isolating quality of his existence. 

Cameron’s reaction then to the day of various activities in and around Chicago with Ferris and Sloane is the dramatic meat of the film, which is mostly designed as lighter fun, but within Cameron and Ruck’s performance is where you get more. Much more honestly as he punctuates moments throughout the sequences to grant them a far greater depth than you would perhaps even expect, and a big reason why is just how much Ruck brings to the role. Take the moment they’re overlooking the stock exchange and he says he sees his father. Ruck brings so much in just his look and in that statement that is filled with dread and a fundamental disgust that speaks to his existence. Something we are given more bluntly when he attacks Ferris’s idea about suggesting an impromptu marriage to Sloane, which Cameron objects to based on the principle of the misery of his parents. Ruck attacks this existence more directly, and effectively so in placing just his exasperation and anger that again creates the years of dealing with that misery. Or you have the moment with Sloane talking about their potential futures, where Ruck is incredible, and in a weird way the chemistry he has with Sara always seems to cut deeper than her moments with Broderick. But anyway, it’s a beautifully realized moment where both admit they’re not interested in anything for their future, and Ruck is incredible because his face manages to convey both this joy of in a way holding onto an aimlessness of youth yet there is still a striking somberness in that exuberance who knows such aimlessness can’t last. However there is no greater moment in this sense than when they go to the art museum and it is a purely silent moment of examining the La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat. Ruck is outstanding because the moment is made by his performance where you see this young man going through all the existential pain of his existence yet with this strange calm as he focuses on just this painting and makes a moment purely out of the silence where he reveals more of Cameron in that silence.

Of course Ruck is also good in playing into just the fun of the moments in being the more straitlaced sidekick reacting with concern to Ferris’s recklessness, particularly over his dad’s Ferrari, and Ruck balances that with the moments of getting caught up into the fun himself. Making it all very natural and balances nicely against Broderick’s far broader fourth wall breaking performance. However eventually due to miles gained on the Ferrari due to some less than trustworthy parking garage attendants we return to a broader stroke for Ruck himself, and a particularly broad stroke given first he has to let out a destroyed wail then pretend to be in a state of comatose. Two scripted beats that honestly could’ve fallen flat yet Ruck impressively makes work, by honestly going big but not too big. Even his face in comatose, as silly as the idea could be, the fact that he chose the slightly pained expression as the frozen one makes it work and still feel like the same Cameron we saw staring pensively at the painting earlier. Leading however to a particularly stellar moment where Cameron falls into a pool to be rescued by Ferris, leading Cameron to reveal his coma as a joke and to tell Ferris that he’s his hero. A magnificent moment due to Ruck’s delivery where there is the joke aspect of it that works, where Ruck’s delivery basically is “fangirling” for the lack of a better description but even in the joking moment, Ruck still makes it all part of this certain personal exasperation with life that makes it still feel absolutely real to the character. Leading to the scene of the film where Ferris’s dumb plan to reduce the mileage on Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari naturally doesn’t work. Ruck is absolutely outstanding as he finally verbalizes every bit of his life that we had been alluding to the whole time. Ruck’s slow breakdown in revealing his heartbreak towards his dad openly but also his rage that is both at his dad and himself with his repeated vicious delivery of “I have to take a stand”. Ruck honestly begins to sound so much older, so effectively so, in stating he will take a stand and build from the heartbreak to his rage of conviction now no longer between himself and his father, now just his father. As he kicks the car, denting it, Ruck brings years of pent up hate towards his father’s cruelty into the moment and there is such catharsis as he notes that he “dented the shit of it”. Ruck doesn’t simplify the moment, showing fear underlining certain words, coming across his face, but in a way only empowers his defiance all the more. That is until he accidentally sends the car out of the window, and Ruck’s surprised “oh shit” reaction is hilarious. But after a moment of silence, Ruck brings back the conviction, but a different conviction than before, less rage induced and with a calmer realization and even strength in every word, even as Ferris insists he take the fall for it instead. Ruck not only that he suddenly even dominates Ferris in a way he never has before in his insistence and saying one can say no to Ferris. Ruck portraying in Cameron this calm even happiness now in taking this stand. Ruck is the heart of the film through this realization of this arc through every step up of the way. A genuinely emotional portrayal of the aimless depressed youth finding joy and his strength, which is all the more impressive by just how easy he makes it all look. Where he goes from so young, to mature in moments, finding the intricacies of this life that is complicated and brings us from the sad teen with no hope, to the young man with a chance in life in through such an honest and powerful journey.

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: Ray Liotta in Something Wild

Ray Liotta did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Ray Sinclair in Something Wild. 

Something Wild follows a milquetoast banker Charlie (Jeff Daniels) who gets caught up in the world of a wild criminal woman Audrey (Melanie Griffith).

The first half of the film is a largely comedic film about Daniels and Griffith on their escapades together, as she pushes him out of his specific shell and into her nearly insane at times chaotic mania that involves petty larceny, uprooting Charlie’s seemingly stable existence and naturally along with some wild sex. All of this eventually leads to the pair going to Audrey’s high school reunion with Charlie as her husband, unfortunately this leads to the pair running into Audrey’s actual husband Ray which immediately makes the film change genres from a comedy towards a thriller. This was Ray Liotta’s partial breakout role and with obvious reason, as the moment Liotta comes on screen he begins to dominate the film. Although this is a case one ponders how it was to watch the film in 1986 given that Liotta came up known for his gangster tough guy roles rather than being newcomer in this film and how one would have responded, given we have a predisposition of an expectation with him even in a role that was before he became the Liotta we’d expect. As when Ray Sinclair first appears with a different woman and eager to get to know Audrey’s “new husband” Charlie, Liotta begins with a theoretical charm offensive as he is encouraging in everything he says to Charlie and naturally throws in a few Liotta laughs for good measure. Liotta as we know him of course makes you feel a little unease in this excessive friendliness being Liotta, however I think what Liotta does well is not play the character of Ray as overtly that he might’ve been in lesser hands. What Liotta does consistently here is elevate a potential type of the jealous ex-boyfriend, though we’ll eventually learn he is in fact Audrey’s ex-husband, and turn him into something a bit more real. As it would be easy enough to have played more so into just planning the intimidation of Charlie immediately, and while that is still playing in Liotta’s eyes that denotes a deeper calculation to his questions to Charlie, there’s a strange genuine interest in Liotta’s note as well. Liotta by doing so presents Ray as wanting to get to know this man his wife has replaced him with, not just in hate but in some attempt to determine the situation to himself. 

An element that he reveals further when finally alone for a moment Liotta switches on a dime when with Audrey. A moment that is great acting by Liotta because in the switch it isn’t an immediate obsession, rather you see vulnerability in Liotta performance as he asks for her to give him another chance. Liotta doesn’t play the moment as a villain rather a man genuinely trying to present himself in some reformed, albeit falsely, light to his wife. Pivotal in that desperation is the sense of the history of failings in Ray who is trying to be some better man in his delivery with that need presenting obsession with her but also specific personal insecurity of a longer relationship. A relationship that propels him not only to casually dump his current girlfriend, literally at a convenience store, but take off in some cockeyed scheme to, in his mind, win Audrey back. Liotta’s performance captures a particular kind of energy that presents an unwieldy quality for Ray. As much as Ray does have a plan to try to rid himself of Charlie, by even framing him, while also robbing a convenience store, the way Liotta maneuvers in these scenes is with much confidence but without much of a sense of an intellectual plan. Rather Liotta brings really even this joy of going with the flow, with highlights of intensity, where Liotta shows that the behaviors aren’t really anything new for Ray to begin with, yet there is the nagging sense of real jealousy and still that desperation that compels him in this particular endeavor of his. Liotta’s performance creates a new angle to a potentially old character through this approach and lets us into more so with his obsession which Liotta keeps fundamentally less melodramatic. As a moment where he is left behind by Charlie and Audrey, and a woman interested in Ray appears, his reaction to her is great work by Liotta, because if you’d watch this scene in isolation you wouldn’t suspect anything horrible will come of it because Liotta plays it with such genuine excitement as Ray sees a new opportunity to pursue the couple. In the moment what Liotta is playing though is the real excitement to see his wife again, now of course this is not a good thing given what Ray plans to do when he gets there, but what Liotta keeps alive is the fundamental truth that in Ray’s own broken way he does honestly love Audrey…or at least believes that he does. Something that leads to the climactic scene where director Jonathan Demme seemed to be cutting his teeth on going fully horror thriller, which he’d do so successfully with Silence of the Lambs, as Ray invades Charlie’s home and attacks them both. A scene that is pure horror and part of the reason why is that Liotta is playing a particular note of insanity where the fear from it is based on the uncertainty of the situation in Ray’s own mind. Throughout the scene Liotta is changing notes, which is not as a criticism rather praise because what Liotta does so well is showing the uncertainty of someone who doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, however what that will be will not be a good thing. So we get moments of pure visceral intensity and weirdly casual moments, both which serve the same purpose as representing someone who has lost in a way that could lead to as much horror as a serial killer with intent. A sequence that builds to the finale where Charlie manages to stab Ray, a moment that is absolute brilliance for Liotta, because his reaction is still not as an overt villain but rather a man who let his worst nature get the best of him. As Liotta’s reaction is that of surprise, not even I can’t believe this weakling got the best of me sort of thing, but rather the surprise of a man who didn’t exactly know what he was doing to begin with, however getting killed by Charlie never crossed his mind. It’s a compelling and captivating near debut that immediately makes an impression, takes hold of the film and doesn't let go until he exits. 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: John C. McGinley in Platoon, Levi Stubbs in Little Shop of Horrors & Vincent Price in The Great Mouse Detective

John C. McGinley did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Sergeant O’Neill in Platoon. 

John C. McGinley plays Sergeant O’Neill in Platoon, and honestly is one of the best hidden aspects of the film where his story is constantly playing out throughout the film even if it isn’t really the focus of the film at any point. McGinley plays one of the more seasoned soldiers in the titular platoon who is in the faction with the scarred and truly seasoned Barnes (Tom Berenger). McGinley sets up his character of O’Neill in these early scenes with not an easy confidence, but a confidence of someone who has set up for himself as much of a situation as he can by holding close to Barnes. McGinley in the early scenes sets the stage effectively by projecting not exactly a phony confidence but rather the confidence of a certain routine. His reactions to Barnes, and his own moments of technical leadership within the troop are that of the consistency of the expectation of his routine at this point. McGinley is the proper sycophant though he is just going along in a particularly convincing manner in his performance. He doesn’t overplay the note rather emphasizes more so how it’s all part of just his life in war but more so as a job, at least at first. The fundamental scene within the scheme of the film is when the platoon invades a local village propelled by anger after finding fellow troops killed by the Vietcong. A sequence where McGinley’s performance honestly stands out more than anything else in it, just what he is doing on the sidelines though in that side creates a fascinating portrait of a man just standing idly by. There’s a key scene where O’Neill observes another soldier going crazy and killing a random innocent villager. McGinley’s reactions in this scene are outstanding because though O’Neill will take no action, every bit of the horror of the moment, he too does find horrible. McGinley expresses absolute dismay and fear, perhaps in part of the result of the war crime he could be culpable of, but also the genuine humanity of witnesses of such an atrocity. His terrified delivery of basically saying just to go and forget that any of it happened is brilliant work because McGinley doesn’t just play into the bad man type, though O’Neill is that, rather shows the man who knows this is all wrong but will stay back and just try to avoid any of it best that he is able to do so. Every scene throughout the rest of the film McGinley makes a quiet impact in creating the internal life of O’Neill within the Platoon as the man who just wants to survive, though not in a way that one would describe as a survivalist rather that of avoidance of responsibility of himself in a way. McGinley has another amazing moment where he is telling another soldier he’s going home, and again McGinley’s great in that it could be a simple jerk moment of jealousy. McGinley brings so much vulnerability within the lines as you sense the real fear in the man, but just a hint of the strange encouragement to man to enjoy the thing he knows he’s not getting. The same great moment is when he tries to back out of the upcoming battle with Barnes as he notes having a bad feeling. Again would’ve been an easy note to over play with too much surface, but the seething anxiety he brings makes it such a genuinely human moment. It doesn't excuse O'Neill's action but shows them coming from a real place, not a stock character. Which again we get another great silent moment from McGinley during that battle when he hides himself among corpses, where he lets you in on his thinking in the moment of the man finding his way out within his fear though by playing into the fear in his way. Leading up to the perfect final moment of the character, where he is rewarded for surviving with a promotion. McGinley’s final reaction being pitch perfect to match that choice where you instantly see the weight of the assignment upon his eyes and you see the man instantly filled with regret as his eyes show a man seeing his future of responsibility and more war that he is not ready for. It’s a wonderful performance between the lines of the film, where McGinley runs with the potential of the role to not hide the negative qualities but rather to imbue them with such honesty that he makes him not a type but a person. 

Levi Stubbs did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors.

Levi Stubbs plays of course the centerpiece character of Little Shop of Horrors, the voice of the giant man eating plant that grows bigger the more blood/human flesh given to him by the hapless Seymour (Rick Moranis). Re-watching the film I’ll admit I forgot just how long it actually took for Audrey II to actually speak to Seymour openly and become the more overt villain offering the Faustian deal of fame, fortune and the original Audrey (Ellen Greene) as “prizes” he can offer him. The plant itself is one of the grand achievements of the film as the puppetry is just incredible work in just how well realized it gives life to the character of a giant man eating plant, but Stubbs’s work is also a key ingredient. Of course as a singer, Stubbs of course delivers on the tune given to Audrey II throughout the film, but in every song the vocal performance is beyond just attuned singing and speaks to his overall impact within the character. Stubbs’s voice is an ideal combination because he both manages to make the joke so to speak, while also being completely convincing in elevating from a joke. As it is worth noting the terrible voice of Audrey II in the original Corman film was entirely a joke, as even the halfhearted nature of the work was part of that joke. There is a joke here too in that this alien plant from outer space that eats people doesn’t sound like some monster but rather has a very, ironically, earthy and rather casual way of speaking. Although seemingly not born long ago, seems Audrey II ages old and this immediately works where Stubbs’s rather blunt and comical qualities he makes sing, in indeed making the joke of the situation by playing into the silliness of such a situation where an alien plan it coarse and wise cracking to Seymour. The execution of which is something Stubbs nails just in each approach because Stubbs brings this quality that is almost to say “yeah I’m an alien plant who wants to eat people, deal with”. While this is amusing, and successful, this isn’t why I am currently writing about this performance, because where Stubbs excels beyond that is the darker qualities of his work as the faustian trickster. Stubbs’s specific playfulness is brilliantly implemented throughout his work because there is a balance he achieves which he does so with complete ease yet is quite the trick. Because what Stubbs does is create within his work the glints of the intended darkness, as when he is prodding Seymour to something more sinister, there’s a knowing even intensity within the slyness he conveys in every word. His whole performance of “Supper Time” is fantastic because there’s the genuine deviousness in every word he speaks that creates far more the sense of a real mastermind that isn’t just some crazy plant who wants humans like a fool. In fact Stubbs even when he plays the sillier note there’s always a hectoring quality to his work, as though he’s purposefully mocking Seymour in these moments and as entertaining as his performance is, it is entirely wrapped in the fiendish sense of the real purpose of the plant. It’s a great performance because what it does is master the specific comedic, but not entirely just comic, tone of the piece by implementing the darkness, but also there’s no disconnect. You just believe Stubbs’s voice is this plant, there’s no getting used to it, and even more so there’s not a moment that you don’t connect the plant puppet with Stubbs’s own voice. They are one and the same, and his work is a fusion within the amazing technical work, by making Audrey II as entertaining and most importantly as tangible as any other character in the film. 

Vincent Price did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Professor Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective. 

Following up Stubbs’s great vocal work in a live action film is Vincent Price, a well known live action actor being made of great use in this animated film. A film that comes just before the celebrity casting became an expected element of animated films, and if I’m being perfectly honest at the time I in some ways preferred it because of the laziness of so many celebrity castings that came afterwards. Price in this film, as essentially the rat/mouse equivalent of Professor Moriarty, is an example of the ideal form of the celebrity casting, where the casting was done with the actor in mind, where the voice seemed honestly the only choice for the character and Price’s own performance lives up to the ideal but also goes beyond. As part of this performance is what Price became famous for which is playing into the idea of a campy flamboyant villainy, something he excelled in in live action and comes across just as well here given just how much character there is innately in Price’s voice. Price, though bringing the same particular kind of colorful energy to every word here that amplifies that animation, just as much as the animation amplifies his voice work in making Ratigan a villain who loves being a villain. Price’s voice is perfect for that as it is as animated as the…animation. Every line Price sinks into with the best bit of theatrical scenery chewing however is ideal for the role of Ratigan, a villain who loves being called a villain going so far as to sing a song about with his henchmen as his chorus. Something where Price is so much fun in singing every bit of it with so much pride, though with the right accentuation of the fiendishness whenever talking about his opponent Basil of Baker Street where you see such sudden hatred on the edges as though it is the intrusive thoughts that Ratigan can quite fully control alluding to his true nature. Price is great fun even murdering one of his henchmen, for daring to call him a rat, however with classic Price's way of while he brings anger in his voice at first he suddenly becomes rather gentle sounding as he leads the poor mouse to be eaten by Ratigan’s pet cat. So much of his work is just enjoying him being the foppish villain delight where he works wholly in both qualities with that Price ease as a villain, but honestly one of the best iterations as such. I have particular affection I will say for his delivery of the song “Goodbye so Soon” combined with his noting that Basil was late in his police work, to get caught by Ratigan’s trap with such smug self-assurance in every accentuated word. Followed by the song itself where Price’s voice through a record is such beautiful hectoring for every second we hear it as making Ratigan as villain who just loves to rub it in. But as great as Price is being Price, I will give him even more credit to his work that amplifies the hidden element, that he alluded to through certain breaks in his more foppish demeanor, when Ratigan in the finale goes fully rabbit essentially as he just tries to straight up murder Basil with his claws. Price backs up the animation with his own more grizzled voice as he brings an animalistic growl beneath his lines and beautifully backs up Ratigan as he fully embraces his…well, rattiness. I even love his delivery of “I won” after he thinks he’s beaten Basil because it is combination of qualities, as it is still Ratigan enjoying his victory, but less smugly, and more so these relief combined with a bit more of a straightforward honesty of someone who know has been through the ringer for his victory. Price presents the ideal on HOW to cast a celebrity in a role because no one would’ve been better for Ratigan than Price, he makes the role, not just by being great casting but backing it up with a terrific vocal performance. 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: Chow Yun-Fat in A Better Tomorrow

Chow Yun-fat did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Mark Lee aka Brother Mark in A Better Tomorrow. 

A Better Tomorrow follows the somewhat convoluted story of an ex-gangster dealing with his family and his old gang ties. 

I’ll admit I had a slightly strange experience watching A Better Tomorrow where I found it just kind of unfocused and clunky, then suddenly quite captivating and stylish. When it was the latter it almost always corresponded with when Chow Yun-Fat is on screen as Brother Mark essentially the best friend/enforcer for the ex-gangster. Something that Chow just owns naturally with such a fantastic cool to his performance, particularly in his earliest scenes where indeed his lighting his cigarette with a counterfeit bill is just a certain kind of cinematic cool that is difficult to achieve. Chow matches the idea and despite being the supporting character here, is the one who comes to life with the striking presence of the proper cool gangster we’d want to follow as he takes on a more nefarious mobster. Chow, for me, very much is the film as it also came to life when he walked on screen each time, partially because Brother Mark seems to move the plot forward in the most compelling fashion, but also because of that presence of Chow’s. Something however that is a mix of badass with a few other elements because it isn’t just the wielding two guns in the and firing, as cool as that is and as well as Chow performs those moments. 

It is around those moments where Chow actually shines, such as the scene where he goes in guns ablazin’, however first setting up some additional guns for himself as he casually walks in. A moment where Chow makes much with the little grin of his in his planting, knows exactly what he’s doing and plays a bit of fun in the moment, before unleashing his fury in the actual gunfight, which is both him shooting down fools and getting injured in return fire. Something where we get the other side of his performance which is presenting some vulnerability, less emotionally but just physically as he literally gets shot. Afterwards then reflecting that state within the character where as much as Chow must be functional at times in terms of progressing the plot you are granted a bit more for his portrayal of Brother Mark’s increasing critical nature as he interacts with a fundamental determination in his moments. Chow’s performance moves from just cool to more so granting the gravity of the situation as the tensions overall raise, to the point Mark is even beaten severely where Chow shows the physical pain combined though with that quiet certainty of his conviction and loyalty regardless. Leading to eventually the final battle where Chow is again great as an action performer in very much selling the action in every little beat he is giving with this time greater intensity and less of an overt cool as he goes about mowing down the gangster’s men one by one. Chow successfully depicts this progression of his character largely through action and creates a compelling character that consistently anchored me to this story despite being a supporting character. In a way it suggests director John Woo figuring out that Chow was the person he always should’ve been focused on in his later films by the promise shown by Chow here. 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: Clancy Brown in Highlander

Clancy Brown did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying the Kurgan in Highlander. 

Highlander is a very dumb film about various immortals that must cut off each other's heads to be the last immortal standing. 

The Kurgan plays one of the leading candidates of the immortal battle royale who actually is the one who makes our strangest sounding Scot who ever lived, Connor MacLeod (Christopher Lambert) realize he’s immortal by stabbing him during a battle. Brown’s performance as Kurgan really has two phases, which story wise don’t exactly make sense, but I’ll get to those in a moment. The first phase is very much playing the barbarian throughout time, which is a natural fit through his imposing physique and his famously deep voice. Brown offers as such the right degree of sadistic intensity as we see massacre along the battlefield and just as quickly goes about stabbing Connor. The Kurgan continues throughout time to pester Connor, including murdering his mentor Ramirez (Sean Connery), where Brown is more beast than anything in his portrayal. Brown portrays just a vicious predator type of approach to each of these scenes with just focusing on just creating this demon that needs to be slayed, which he backs up with again his deep roar and his always slightly insane stare offering each time. There’s slightly more in his battle with Ramirez where Brown briefly though effectively portrays genuine surprise and fear when Ramirez almost pulls off a killing blow against Kurgan by slicing his throat. Although even modern day it is this same sort of beast mentality even when renting a sleazy hotel room his reaction to a prostitute Candy coming up to see him isn’t at all different from the breath of the monster of old as he notes “of course you are” when she tells him her name. The few scenes where he attacks Connor or kills a different immortal, Brown very much is the same character. That is until Kurgan stabs a man who interferes with a duel leaving him a wanted man, leading him to shave his head and go after Connor directly. Leading to a scene where they meet up in a Church for reasons unknown, but now Kurgan for the rest of the film isn’t just evil he’s wholly irreverent in his manner to everyone and everything. Although I would say the transformation doesn’t exactly make sense, who cares, Brown having a blast. As he brings just a sliminess to every manner in his putting out prayer candles just for fun, licking a priests hands with the most sleazy of smiles and loudly boasting about having murdered Ramirez and about having raped Connor’s deceased wife. Brown is putting all his energy being the absolute worst and is definitely entertaining as such, with a great capper to the scene, supposedly improvised by Brown, which is to exclaim “It’s better to burn out than fade away” while also essentially doing a dance movie. A theoretically silly moment, that is kind of amazing and probably the best part of the film just to the gusto in Brown’s performance and makes it work within the chaotic framework of this second phase to the Kurgan. Something we get more of when he kidnaps Connor’s new girlfriend to draw him out where Kurgan drives her around as recklessly as possible, where again Brown is having a blast in just being ridiculous but it works in creating the sense of the character’s psychotic nature. Leading to the final duel which is mostly just to expectation except for Kurgan’s death, where Brown gets a little more out of it when Connor gets the final blow, and Brown instead wrenching in pain or outraged at the loss, smiles as almost the Kurgan’s saying “good for you!” with the same type of chaos. While I wouldn’t say this is an unforgettable villain turn it is a fun one that is one of the genuinely worthwhile elements of the film. And yes, does he kind of change his performance midway, sure, but it makes the film better by doing so, so it's fine by me. 

Alternate Best Actor & Best Supporting Actor 1986: William Petersen & Tom Noonan in Manhunter

Tom Noonan did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Francis Dollarhyde aka the Tooth Fairy in Manhunter.

Re-watching, and fully appreciating the greatness of Manhunter, one can use this film and Silence of the Lambs as examples of how there is not a single pathway to success for material, as Michael Mann and Jonathan Demme make two great adaptations of a novel and its sequel, both which could be just ridiculous exploitation nonsense in the wrong hands, hello Ridley Scott, yet are masterful in the specific handling by each director. And it’s fascinating because both have a level of reality, yet a subversion of that, but in completely different ways do the two implement their styles. And the funny thing, both kind of falsely, not a criticism, create the grounding of reality, in what are technically heavily stylized films, just in ways where it specifically earns them by utilizing the style so specifically. Demme’s film one would argue is more overt with the impact of the style, particularly when you contrast the two versions of the Hannibal character, where Demme and Hopkins very much plays into a larger than life figure, where Mann and Cox focus on a blunter reality. I think even the performances contrast Cox's barren, small, run of the mill white prison cell against Hopkins’s large, looming, at the end of a dungeon, summarize such a specific choice by each director, and the great thing is, both choices work. Something that plays into the character of Francis Dollarhyde aka the Toothfairy played by Tom Noonan, who plays the actual main antagonist of the film as the serial killer that our lead Will Graham (William Petersen) is trying to catch. A character who makes his first appearance after having abducted tabloid journalist Freddie Lounds (Stephen Lang), and wanting to give Freddie a primary source account of why he does what he does. Noonan’s approach in the role is very much of his own while being within the specific style of Mann, which on one end makes so much of this story matter of fact. Noonan’s amazing because in this scene he manages to be extremely creepy by not trying to be creepy in the slightest. His tone is casual, very calm, almost as though he is genuinely showing someone’s slides from a recent vacation, sadly for Freddie they are in fact slides regarding his demented psychosis regarding William Blake’s Red Dragon painting and images related to the families he has brutally murdered. Noonan says every word as straightforwardly as possible, which as strange as that sounds only makes his Dollarhyde all the more off-putting in the way he presents himself as a man who has no shame in himself or what he is doing. Rather Noonan portrays it as a man all too comfortable with it, and with this specific almost scientific curiosity when he describes his method of “transforming” women, which for us is brutally murdering them, but for them is a calm action. Noonan is disturbing because his delivery is of someone who knows everything he is doing is completely sane, to himself despite being wholly deranged. 

However after that initially horrifying scene we quickly see Dollarhyde at his work, where he begins to interact with a blind woman Reba (Joan Allen). Noonan’s vocal approach makes this relationship already more believable because there isn’t anything creepy inherently in his voice, only what he is describing in his voice that makes it creepy. So it is easy to believe that Reba would find him seemingly someone of interest just from only hearing him, however their initial interactions are exceptional work from Noonan. As it is all about the reactions within Noonan’s performance as Reba begins to speak to him with genuine interest. Noonan’s great by his reactions playing into the thoughts of Dollarhyde having no idea how to react to someone seemingly showing him interest and kindness. He begins with a quiet suspicion, though then there’s a sense of frustration and even confusion as she begins to continue to show tenderness. When this goes further and they actually have a date, where Dollarhyde very creepily looks at his serial killer slideshows while she sits unknowingly with him, Noonan’s exceptional in the realization of the twisted mind that becomes temporarily satiated. As when he’s looking at Reba at first there is a quality of his work as though he is examining him more so as a specimen as he seems to be accounting for each part of her in his glances, not unlike the likely approach he took when murdering women. However when she only shows tenderness and even reaches out to him, there’s a break that Noonan plays wholly in silence where he creates the sense of the temporary calming of his impulses as he begins to react to her earnestly as a woman. Something where Noonan is curiously almost like a lead in an off-beat romantic film in the way he begins to play the scenes with genuine normalcy, with genuine happiness, and something that is fascinating to watch given how we opened with his character. Something that builds towards the climax of the film, where we see Dollarhyde almost happy looking upon Reba, as just a man loving a woman, until his twisted brain misinterprets an interaction between Reba and another man as not only betrayal but more than that as we see in his specific twisted visual perspective, in again what is clear overt style from Mann that breaks the matter of fact reality so brilliantly. Noonan’s also essential to the moment in portraying the switch to suddenly that festering mental state returning and we see his mind twist, again almost entirely silently as he says every little from this moment to the climax. Where Noonan subdued work is chilling in the way we see the quiet intensity him, though there is just a glint of hesitation/humanity in his eyes that gives reason to his hesitation to killing her though still twisted, as it is less of a clear empathy and more a confused state, while contrasting showing no hesitation or concern when coldly dispatching anyone else who interrupts him during his strange personal ceremony. Noonan gives a striking performance here, not by playing up to the rafter, but rather keeping it a disturbingly quiet portrait of insanity. 

William Petersen did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Will Graham in Manhunter.

But I would be remiss for not mentioning William Petersen’s performance as Will Graham, and giving it its proper due. A performance that I liked the first time, but did not fully appreciate what Petersen does here in terms of portraying the very specific frame of mind of the character. And part of the reason why is this performance is not your typical leading man portrayal in any way whatsoever, rather what Petersen is dealing with the actual ramifications of the character of Will Graham. As Manhunter makes the choice, and a choice I appreciated all the more this time around, to portray Graham very much having already been permanently scarred by his existence as an FBI profiler, specifically having already caught Hannibal Lecktor despite almost having been killed in the process. What Petersen delivers is alluding to the man that Graham once was, without being that what he actually is in his current existence. In turn, Petersen is not particularly charming or at least traditionally charismatic in the role, however what he is doing instead is presenting someone who exists nearly in a numb existence, in order to exist at all. And what Petersen is doing overall supports this idea, because he really does an exceptional approach in playing the surface against the internalization. As when we see Graham with his wife and his son, to which there is more than a little distance, but it isn’t just distance. Rather what Petersen delivers on is brief moments of connection, where you see some semblance of the old loving husband and father, but Petersen meekly performs these moments. It is there in him, the glint is there, but it is a struggle to be normal, as the moment we see him starting express a bit more emotion, Petersen’s reactions suddenly feel with a quietly brewing pain, suggesting the state of the man who is best to shut himself off entirely rather than genuinely deal with the real emotions he’s going through.

And the cause of the emotions he’s going through are his job as the profiler of serial killers, which we get a few different sides within the character as an investigator. There is the more expected FBI man, though colder if not even slightly aloof seeming as he speaks to other agents, and deals with the case on a more professional level. There is an incisiveness to Petersen’s performance, but it is almost entirely in the eyes where there is this specific conviction within his work. We see the burden of it, as he deals with people like Lounds trying to exploit his situation where Petersen’s performance expresses years of exasperation within just momentary reaction of immediate subdued yet potent anger lashing out against any pestering quickly but with specific intensity of someone wanting to close it all off as soon as possible. Something he cannot avoid when meeting with Lecktor in this version, who he seeks advice from to try to catch the Tooth Fairy. Petersen’s amazing in playing the levels of the situation where Hannibal is constantly hectoring him, and trying any way to basically set Graham off. Petersen comes in with a very straightforward delivery trying very much to present himself as the FBI profiler, something that Hannibal refuses to accept and tries to poke at anything he can. Petersen's great in playing both the notes of pushing against Lecktor's games and being impacted by them. By turning phony praise about who’s smarter, with Petersen’s cold cutting noting Lecktor’s disadvantage due to being psychotic, but bringing so much within his expression of the pressure within himself as Lecktor continues to press him. With Lecktor noting that Graham himself started to touch the same mental space as the killers striking the most, where Petersen’s reaction is truly great in expressing real anxiety over the idea. 

The idea being a key to Petersen’s performance and creating the full sense of the history of his situation. What Petersen does is begin with a man who has gone beyond the pale, hence his cold, often detached moment, and the reason this is obviously a choice is what Petersen does in the scenes where Graham specifically goes about thinking in the mind of the killer. Every single one of these scenes is absolutely amazing work by Petersen. As he begins perhaps as you’d more so expect of a detective tracing the steps of the crime and trying to figure out where the killer went and how he went about the crime. Petersen goes further than that in showing Graham fully immersing himself into the killer’s thinking. Something that begins as inspiration as he begins to speak to the killer directly, but also as himself, and it doesn’t just go from thinking about it, it goes to becoming it in the moment. Petersen in these moments where he goes fully insane himself are absolutely captivating because you truly see someone fully embodying the deranged spirit in order to figure out the crime, and taking lines that could have seemed potentially even ridiculous, absolutely chilling because he lets you in on the frame of mind every time. The final sequence of trying to figure out the crime, just as the final clock is ticking is particularly stellar work from Petersen. Every moment of just trying to figure out from the clues, running down what the killer somehow knew, touching the idea, while also expressing his own intense frustrations at it, Petersen’s natural flow of such emotional extremes is flawlessly performed, where he goes from the cunning FBI agent, to the criminal profiler embedding himself in the madness, to just the concerned and frustrated man who knows someone will die if he doesn’t figure it out, and the cold attempted holding off those emotions in the in-between. Petersen is absolutely captivating to watch but he also makes the essential realization of what it means to exist within the world of serial killers. Petersen showing why Graham would have to almost purge his own humanity to avoid falling into that madness. Something that makes sense of his one big scene with his son where he explains the situation quietly, where Petersen’s performance is what you might describe as low energy, detached, but what Petersen brings in that scene is the internalized reality of the man who has to speak as such to his son, lest he fall into that madness he’s trying to keep at bay. There is a tenderness in Petersen's performance,, that tenderness of a father, but buried so deep along with almost all his emotions to hold himself together in this self imposed exile from the void. The whole idea of “becoming the villain” can often be an alien, melodramatic or even silly idea, but what Petersen’s performance does is make it tangible and powerfully real. This is truly daring work, to essentially close himself off from the audience but to do it worth purpose, and a tremendous payoff in crafting the very real rot in the mind of a hero who must submerge himself in darkness. 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1986: John Goodman in True Stories

John Goodman did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Louis Fyne in True Stories. 

True Stories tells various offbeat stories in a Texas town. 

John Goodman plays one of the people in the town, and honestly you couldn’t ask for a better performer for the very specific tasks of this film, which has an unusual tone to say least, so who better than Goodman who can go from dramatic to comedic roles with such ease…often being comedic while dramatic and vice versa. Something that comes to play almost immediately where in the early scenes of the film he is more of a seeming random point in a pseudo documentary element, as we are greeted by him as one of the workers in a factory. Where Goodman delivers an overly familiar greeting with a Texas, fitting for the over enthusiasm of someone thinking they’re on TV. Goodman naturally maneuvers this to slightly more subtle when Louis starts talking about himself a little bit with a certain bashfulness, where Goodman is indeed funny when speaking about his woes in his dating life. Something we also see in a quick montage of some failed dates, where we get some perfect comic timing from Goodman, first in his squeamish reaction to rowdy kids of one date, to his great physical maneuvers as he suffers various yoga positions of another. Goodman is equally effective on another ill-fated one, where his date mentions that she had a tail, and Goodman’s reactions to this very unexpected revelation are absolutely hilarious in the subdued shock and disbelief as he tries to maintain a “I’m on a date” face. 

We see Louis again in a “real” situation at a club where he bemoans the dating scene, and Goodman's natural modification of his performance is done so naturally. Goodman doesn’t overplay the note of his frustrations, but just lays it out with a quiet bluntness and a low key dejectedness of just stating that his situation seems bleak. Goodman balances the frustrations with a sincerity in his performance of speaking his genuine interest in finding a life partner in a woman and the bright spark he brings to his eyes, that Goodman creates a person within the silliness. As we also get him awkwardly lip synching, where Goodman is wonderfully fumbling in his ways, or his completely sincere, though in this instance now hilarious, delivery of explaining about how he cares about his appearance. Goodman isn’t in the film for awhile, but he comes back very much as the climax of the film in a way where we get a few different scenes of Louis still on his quest for romantic happiness. Something that includes a whole different angle to play as we get Louis doing one of those 80’s dating videos, where Goodman’s excellent in playing the comedic note of the certain stiffness and general awkwardness of describing himself as some sort of sales pitch, including his maintenance of a consistent “panda bear” shape, which Goodman’s delivery is truly comic perfection how directly he says something so strange. 

Goodman’s better than just being funny in that moment though, as silly as the scenario is, as in his eyes there is still the very real subtle need within his performance that as much as the situation is comical, there’s a real person within it. Goodman takes this balance even further in another failed date scene, however this one more merging the comedic and the dramatic. As when he states his love of country music, Goodman brings such genuine passion in naming his favorite artists, even while still bringing this nervousness behind every word, that he still struggles to share himself going so far as to share his unfinished song. In this version the song is “People like Us”, is the work of a master of tone, because he is able to make it funny in his stumbling around in the song, but there’s also such real pain in moments of the lyrics where you can see they are truly personal to Louis. Which leads to a heartbreaking moment where the woman rejects him for the song being sad, Goodman’s truly great in his initial pride in having shared himself, that he articulates such desperate unease within himself as he realizes that she is rejecting him on a fundamental level, with his delivery of “I’m sorry” being filled with just so much pathos of a guy who has learned to apologize for being himself. Something that follows is when he’s seeking help from a mystic, where Goodman is amazing in his fully dramatic moment of stating his “I want to share my life” with such moving vulnerability in the words, and as much as Louis had been used for comic vignettes he makes you truly feel for him. Thankfully the mystic seems to give him an amulet and some words of wisdom, which maybe breaks down to be confident in one’s self, which leads to Goodman’s full performance of “People Like Us”. Where now Louis believes himself, and Goodman is outstanding in just bringing forth this in every moment of his musical performance. There’s no shame in himself, instead someone putting his passion for country music and singing for everyone to see. Goodman puts so much heart into every word of a song and creates what is absolutely the standout segment of the film. As Goodman doesn’t just sell the song, he succeeds in giving such pitch perfect climax to his character that creates a true ownership of the film’s tone in the best way possible, because he is funny, he is sad, but he’s also something so much more than either of those two things alone.