Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1998: Results

5. Mike Myers in 54 - Myers is far better than his film giving an effective portrayal of a man lost in his strange power, even if it's a shame he doesn't have too much to work with.

Best Scene: Final speech.

4. Thomas Bo Larsen in Festen - Larsen is an expert lout however is effective in showing the intensity of his transitions later on both for better and worse. 

Best Scene: Punishments.

3. Kiefer Sutherland in Dark City - Sutherland gives a strange but compelling portrayal of a man twisted by his very odd existence.

 

Best Scene: Teaching everything in but a moment. 

2. Donald Sutherland in Without Limits - Sutherland Sr. steals his film by making a potentially standard coach role stand out, and utterly his own. 

Best Scene: Eulogy.

1. Jim Caviezel in The Thin Red Line - The question wasn't if Caviezel would top this lineup but rather how I would decide on what Thin Red Line performer for the win. As Nolte, Koteas, Penn and Caviezel are all brilliant in portraying the different and distinct perspective of each of their soldiers so powerfully. And honestly it is a toss up till this point I've toyed with putting Caviezel in lead to make it *slightly* easier, which I actually don't think is grievous fraud since Witt's story bookends the film and is a consistent presence throughout. Anyway forgetting that for a moment, the top four are the top four, though to say it is set in stone is hard to say.

Best Scene: The hut.

Updated Overall

Next: 1977 Lead

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1998: Donald Sutherland in Without Limits

Donald Sutherland did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite being nominated for a Golden Globe, for portraying Bill Bowerman in Without Limits.

Without Limits is the second film in a two year period about the tragically short life of runner Steve Prefontaine (Billy Crudup). Superior of the two, though Prefontaine starring Jared Leto, isn't terrible, and Without Limits isn't amazing but it is better.

One of the major improvements between the two is the depiction and performance behind Prefontaine's coach Bill Bowerman, which is a major facet of Without Limits, and thankfully gives me a chance to explore the great talents of the dearly departed Donald Sutherland, incidentally also directed by the dearly departed Robert Towne. Sutherland opens the film with his great voice narrating as we see Steve running in the Olympics as he watches on, before we naturally flash back to the early days of Steve until he eventually goes to the University of Oregon to train under Sutherland as Bowerman. An unlikely introduction as we find Bowerman's first act is to measure each man's foot to design better shoes for them to run in, and Sutherland even as he's looking down with a measuring tape, seemingly not paying attention, still commands the screen with ease. Sutherland cuts through the nonsense with his ease in delivery of a man who has seen plenty, knows his role, knows his methods and therefore doesn't need to sell it to anyone. Such as in this first scene where Steve thinks he has some extra weight saved in Bowerman's shoe designs which Sutherland calmly states his knowledge of already before sending Steve off on his way. Sutherland is theoretically working with some expected material as we see him speak with authority to all the young men in his program, but what makes it something special is the way Sutherland comes at each scene in his own Sutherland way. Sutherland doesn't present himself as the obvious authority figure, despite just always having this presence of "in charge" regardless, rather Sutherland's performance has the natural ease of the man who doesn't need to perform for others, Bowerman already knows.  

So what Sutherland accomplishes is just a dynamic performance in every scene he's in, whether it is breaking some habits of the men, or just forcing them to have certain length haircuts, there's such a seasoned wisdom in Sutherland relaxed way of speaking every word, but also his manner confirms that sensibility every time. Sutherland goes further in that while I wouldn't call this a comedic performance exactly, there is something that isn't entirely disparate from his work in MASH for example, where there's a humorousness to the irreverence of the man. Sutherland isn't playing for laughs, even if he might get a few, rather he's playing for creating an understanding of the character defined by his experience, which is to cut right to it, no matter what the condition may be. And we see this in one of Steve's first great feats of running where everyone else is amazed by the thing, and Sutherland's wonderful in portraying the building annoyance in Bowerman at the showboating. Every time it cuts to him, and really Sutherland, as he consistently does in this film, makes the scene by making his annoyance both amusing but also completely the nature of the character who isn't impressed by flash, he's impressed by substance and skill. And we follow that scene with Sutherland as great in his measured and straightforward manner towards Steve in explaining why Steve screwed up, even though it seemed to everyone else that Steve was doing anything but. Sutherland not only makes this exposition natural, he makes it compelling and captivating in bringing this specific sense in the man's eyes and his words of someone who knows Steve can do better if he follows instruction.

Naturally the film progresses with the relationship between the two growing over time, though Sutherland never exactly makes Bowerman a simple inspirational coach at any moment. I especially love one scene where the guys are talking out of turn in a sauna to be horrified when Bowerman appears having already been in the sauna. Again the moment is made by Sutherland with a very specific, almost villainous, grin on his face that instantly instills terror in the man, and shows the unique sway of Bowerman, even when they're at the Olympics. And at the Olympics where Prefontaine falls short of a medal, it is again Sutherland who truly carries the moment through the quiet intensity of his performance just watching every step and more than anything creates the investment into the scene. And we see that beyond this that Bowerman, despite his manner, does care about Prefontaine, such as confronting him after he chooses to work as a bartender after the Olympics. Sutherland is great though because as much as you can see now that Bowerman definitely sees Steve as more than just another player for him, his delivery is still matter of fact of the wisdom of a man who will simply point out what he sees is wrong and what he sees as right. There's a fantastic scene where Steve mentions offers to go pro which would give him monetary compensation, where Bowerman gives him the immediate pros and cons, though also notes it's Steve's decision. Sutherland's subdued delivery again is of a man who isn't trying to sway Steve rather just painting his options for him as a truly intelligent man would. Sutherland is consistent with character, revealing his warmth, but as always in his Bowerman way that is true to the character. The one real break is in the ending where Sutherland is fantastic, because he still isn't suddenly turning into a different man, rather is extremely moving in showing the calm and concise Bowerman still being as such in caring eulogy, though making the moments of near break so especially potent coming from the tough exterior the man. Sutherland powerfully reveals just how much Steve meant to Bowerman and ends the film on a high note. And this is a great example of the marvelous talent of Donald Sutherland, who takes a potentially rote role and makes the absolute most of it. Coming at every potentially standard scene in his own way, that takes a well worn character of the tough coach, and makes it his own.

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1998: Jim Caviezel, Sean Penn & Nick Nolte in The Thin Red Line

Jim Caviezel did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Pvt. Robert E. Lee Witt and Sean Penn did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Sgt. Edward Welsh in The Thin Red Line.

I will admit a film I already loved, I might've loved it even more watching this time, perhaps because no matter where the film wanders to there is something to treasure in this unique exploration of a single battle in World War II, covering as a battle, but also a spiritual experience. The key relationship in pondering the key themes of the film is between Jim Caviezel's Private Witt and Penn's Sergeant Welsh. Two characters that are in terms of their original conception continuations of Montgomery Clift's and Burt Lancaster's characters in From Here to Eternity, although adapted in the sequel novel, and adapted again by Malick's screenplay that is far from a straightforward adaptation. Seeing these men as continuations of those men, does make sense, as we open the film with Witt, like Clift's Prewitt, in a state of anti-establishment, here as a deserter with another soldier living an idyllic life with tribal people on a remote island. Caviezel would become best known for playing literal Christ in The Passion of the Christ, plays a Christlike figure, though not as simple as that, as his Witt is of his own place, however it is Christ like in that he seems to be experiencing life beyond what the rest of us are able to see. Say what you want of some of Caviezel's later choices, however he is perfectly cast here, and embodies this role so effortlessly from the first scene we see him as part of this landscape that seems to evoke the beauty of life. Caviezel's performance with minor midwest drawl, though not emphasized, just simply is within this state of mind, something of the joy he expresses as he interacts and almost is one with the natives. Caviezel's specific way though isn't of just simple pleasure of not being at war, it is more fundamental as the man seems at peace beyond just not fighting, rather his soul has found an experience he is able to bond with. Something that ends when an American patrol boat comes across them and takes them into custody.

Leading us to Sean Penn as Sergeant Welsh, a performance that one could describe as the promise I've always seen in Penn, even if he frequently acted in the way of it. As I've made no misconception that Penn is not one of my favorite actors, given he often covers his talent with needless overacting, however within this film this is the purest and most honest performance he's ever given. And we see this in the first of three scenes of philosophical discussion between Welsh and Witt, which I'd say are among my favorite scenes in the film, but nearly every scene of this film leaves me in a bit of awe. Anyway you have contrasting men, and contrasting performances, however connecting all the same which is perhaps where the real power of both performances exist. Penn's performance is without mannerism, without accent, without anything on top of it, he plays Welsh right at you without anything to obscure this man, and is absolutely brilliant in being so direct. Fitting to the direct man that is Welsh, though simple he is not, as we see him breakdown Witt's situation where he's managed to prevent any serious punishment for the man. Something Penn delivers as a blunt stick of a man trying to get through with the rebellion within the squad he "runs". And already there is something special in the chemistry with Caviezel and Penn, because while this film makes no mention of a being a continuation of From Here to Eternity, that sort of history of the man of the army and the man of his own choices, already seems part of them, as the two both seem certain of each other and such a sense of rich history is in every interaction. And that counterpart to Welsh's order comes in Caviezel's performance, which I think shows something more than simply being a Christ-like figure rather he's in this state of transition that he isn't entirely sure of himself. And we see maybe the old Witt, that does seem closer to Clift's Prewitt, as he shrugs off Welsh's "deal", and notes how he can take anything Welsh will give out. There is rebellion in this moment, disregard, and a power to Witt, as he even states that he's "twice the man" Welsh is, you believe him in this almost anarchist strength that reflects their past.

I could try to move on from that scene but there's too much richness in it, as we go beyond the army to the world  as Welsh seemingly tries to get through to Witt, by stating his view of the world, which we have two statements and two layers of Penns' performance. As his first statement that a man is "nothing" and that there "ain't no world but this one", Penn's delivery is a weaponized cynicism, almost gloating in his delivery in a method to have Witt accept the facts as he presents them. Something that Witt immediately counters as "having seen another world", that is one of the most beautiful and poignant line deliveries, as there is such ethereal optimism that Caviezel conveys, however the line itself isn't that of a zealous assurance, rather most men of an honest faith struggling with said faith. As his face so naturally lowers into sadness as he continues the line of he thinks sometimes the other world was merely his imagination. Caviezel effortlessly conveys the conflict of the man's soul of desiring to believe in this better world, but in no way having the certainty of a fanatic. The notion of the "other world" seems to impact Welsh, and Penn's masterful in the way his delivery takes in Witt's words in Welsh's response. He's again coming at him with cynicism, however a personal man to man, even familiar way as he shrugs that Witt's seen something he never will. Penn's performance is the first moment that alludes to far more to Welsh than just being an army pusher, as there's an ounce of regret in his own statement, following by stating a selfish view that in the war basically every man has to look out for himself. Penn's delivery is different from the previous statement on the world, now as this type of caution to Witt rather than a command. Leaving the scene by Welsh noting that he may be the best friend Witt's had. A curious statement given their clash in their scene, and can perhaps be taken as just Welsh towing the army's lines of getting a man in line by being his friend. However, Penn's subtle expressions in the scenes make it anything but as there is far more than that, which I will hold off onto towards the end of this review.

The film progresses into the field of battle, where the film focuses on the lives of so many of the soldiers, where Welsh and Witt occasionally are visited within the chaos of the campaign. Witt and Caviezel's performance are curious within the grand scheme of the film, as much as he's not always on screen, he is a common factor within scenes, and suddenly appears at times, almost as though he is a spirit watching over the men, despite very much being a real man. Curious in an absolutely captivating way as Caviezel's performance expresses this different journey Witt goes through while still being part of the battle, even at one point volunteering again for active duty. He's not suddenly a pacifist within the scheme, but he's also not just one of the men either. He is on his own journey which often is through brief moments as we see Witt within the battle each time, and Caviezel's work is fascinating. Fascinating in a way that if it had not been perfect it would've been terrible, thankfully he's perfect. In that Caviezel's work is always on a different wavelength, and often is a man seemingly between the two worlds he spoke of in mind though perhaps not body. Caviezel's work makes every moment in which Witt appears to have an impact by offering this alternative expression of a soldier that doesn't follow any expected tradition. There are moments he's part of the fight but never do we see aggression. There are moments where he volunteers even, but that doesn't seem like heroism, rather even the way Caviezel delivers these moments is as though Witt must perform the action as though he's called to, rather than commanded to. And what is so fundamentally remarkable within Caviezel's portrayal is that as otherworldly as it is, he presents as this matter of fact truth to Witt. Caviezel crafts this calm yet insight about it, one especially potent moment is during the accidental death of another soldier, and we see Witt watch him die. Caviezel, through the most minute changes, manages to create empathy, sadness, but also a kind of enlightenment as though for a moment he's seeing the man's soul before it leaves this world. Another is when he's observing an enemy soldier, and while we see him take a difficult encampment as a soldier, Caviezel as Witt watches the enemy doesn't see them angrily as killers of his comrades, nor annoyed at needing to deal with them or even the distance necessary to kill. Rather it is with this empathetic calm, and we see him see them as people, only as a man who can tap into this unknown could, and brings such beauty to the moment Witt offers an enemy captive gum, not as a ploy, or even an olive branch, just kindness to his fellow man.

Welsh too is among the men, though certainly differently from Witt, as a man trying to keep them together in their advancement, though Penn carries the expression of the hardened soldier, who is there to survive. As man too who seems perhaps different in his own way, as Penn too is observing constantly in his performance, always present in a way that differs from others as the man observing and trying to understand everyone and everything around him, though if you were to ask Welsh he'd deny such a claim. Welsh being the selfish survivalist, something though he is lying that we alluded to in the first conversation with Witt, but we see more abundantly during the battle when a screaming wounded man is trapped out of cover. Penn's performance is outstanding in the scene as you see him watching as he does, then just have conviction in his eyes as he runs out, as selflessly as you can be as he gets to the man. And Welsh is as empathetic as any man could be as he offers to save the man, and every moment of Penn's performance is wholly in concern for the dying man. Welsh is torn apart as he can only offer the man an overdose of morphine to ease his pain, and Penn is heartbreaking in that moment of realization. When he returns from his selfless mission, Welsh tells the truth, if seemingly towing his callous line, as his Captain wants to cite him for his bravery, however Welsh adamantly refuses any such mentions dismissing medals as property. Penn's performance is incredible because you see the way Welsh instantly hides his empathy in the rejection showing a kind of anger covering it all up, in part in genuine belief for life rather than reward, but also anger of a man who needs to be callous rather than collapse from the emotional turmoil of the moment.

Our second conversation between Welsh and Witt comes in the middle of the battle, where despite the conflict based upon their views, the connection despite the theoretical connection is tremendous. And we see the change in the performances, Penn puts no army bravado, now it is just honesty, even if a bit of personal force behind trying to convince Witt of his single worldview. Penn's subtle shift here though quietly evokes concern within Welsh for Witt, no longer as man just trying to get a soldier to do his duty, now alluding to something more in trying to keep Witt alive. Contrasting that is Caviezel as Witt is further in his journey, no longer needing to argue with Welsh over the notion, rather there is a clarity in his eyes as the man is finding this way to look beyond. The two men, as much as Welsh would never admit, are more connected to what is going on around them then almost anyone else, though Penn's performance is a man of the earth, while Caviezel is the man of the soul as we progress. And we see this as each interacts with other soldiers, Penn is incredible in another scene where a soldier callously dismisses any concern, which Welsh thought he was, and we see in Penn's performance, as he so perfectly articulates Welsh's mindset in this conversation. Because we see the man who thought he was the man he's talking to, numb to the world only caring about himself, however now Welsh explains himself as not there yet based on expectation with an exasperation at first as though he would like to be numb, yet his eyes present a sorrow as he continues to speak, and shows that Welsh will never be that numb, in fact may be incapable of being so despite what he tells others. Penn shows the suffering of a man who wishes he couldn't care, but cares so deeply. Caviezel presents Witt's interactions alternatively as this comforting factor towards almost everyone he comes across, as he walks, nearly glides in his manner that brings this understated warmth of a man who has this peace within himself, even as he exists within a battlefield.

Our third conversation between Witt and Welsh comes during the respite in fighting, and in our most relaxed circumstances between the men. And this scene is as rich as their first together, maybe richer in some ways, as both men are in a different place from the battle and we see them slightly out of the confines of the war, though certainly still aware of it, within the familiarity that Penn and Caviezel deliver in this scene. Each man challenges each other still, though the delivery this time is so different and essential in conveying each man in that different place. Caviezel has that impeccable calm about him as he maneuvers through the lonely hut the two are inhabiting. Contrasting Penn who is exuding the exhaustion of what they have been through so far and brings this casual practicality about it, as man getting straight to it though in what can be described in a friendly way. As he questions Witt if he's "making trouble" by not conforming, Penn speaks not as an attack but as a knowing sort of between friends dig. Something Witt doesn't allow any disconnect in as he speaks with such a powerful yet reserved way of reaching to Welsh with "you do care about me, don't you sergeant? I always thought that you did", is so beautifully spoken as Caviezel brings such a potent sense of love in the words, and breaks down any notion of conflict by pointing out the kindness of Welsh despite how he makes himself out to be a "rock". I adore especially when Witt, with all sincerity from Caviezel, asks if Welsh gets lonely, to which Penn's delivery "only around people" is a bit cynical aside however, in his expression you also see how true it is to Welsh's state as the man who believes he must be hard but is just a soulful deep down. Welsh's followup change of subject "your still believing in the light are you" is this soft challenge, Penn not quite making fun of it, but trying to take away some of the gravity of the idea in his asking at first. However as he continues with "how do you do that, you're a magician to me", Penn so naturally and so honestly shifts with the slight crack in his voice, to see that Welsh does truly want to know. Followed by Caviezel's "I still see a spark in you" with Cavizel somehow so naturally in this place of otherworldly grace as he wholly inspires in the beautiful yet so simple way of expressing it. But even that might not be the most potent moment, as Penn's reaction is heartbreaking as his expression of Welsh is about to break down fully, as though his attempt at a cynical world view is so pained by Witt having this optimism for him. I can praise the actors enough in frankly making for me one of the poignant scenes in any film, and what the scene also shows is getting back to that "best friend" line of the first scene, we know is an absolute truth. Welsh is Witt's best friend, but truer though is Witt is Welsh's best friend, something Welsh knows deep in his heart. And we find this in the final moments of this film, as Witt goes off on another dangerous mission where he makes a heroic sacrifice to draw the Japanese forces away from the rest of his unit, leading him to be surrounded. A scene that works because of Caviezel's performance, where Witt willingly chooses to sacrifice himself and not surrender moving onto another world...or perhaps his imagination, it is for each of us to decide that. But Caviezel's work is astonishing because you see the way, this passage in his eyes, as begins as a man surrounded by enemy soldiers in fear and in adrenaline of the chase, however then Caviezel's expression changes as he so powerfully suggests the man now fully looking beyond his current state and accepting his faith to see another world. Absolutely stellar work, and to compliment that is Penn's heart wrenching final scene as he stands above a buried Witt pondering where his spark is now. Penn's performance is incredibly moving because it isn't the cynical man being proven right or gloating in any way, it is just a friend torn up having lost a man he cared about needing to now continue on this world alone.

Nick Nolte did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Lt. Col. Tall in The Thin Red Line.

Nolte once again in 98 subverts his usual presence, while bringing that presence here to the role of the Army colonel leading the attack on Guadalcanal. A role that in most films would be that of the internal villain pushing the army in the wrong ways and the wrong direction, though while his actions still can be described as villainous, the character of Col. Tall isn't so simple. Part of that is the brilliant way he is introduced as he's receiving his instructions from his superior officer, very much prodding him for success in the upcoming battle, while also essentially noting that the Colonel is a bit behind for his age in terms of advancement in the military. Which already is such a different side to Nolte already as he's very much the submissive in this conversation, which is particularly remarkable when John Travolta is playing the superior officer. Nolte eagerly nodding along to every suggestion, and even threat that he best accomplish what he is being tasked with, and such subtle sense in his work of the glint of fear of the task of a man knowing he will stay exactly where he's been if he doesn't do what the general is asking him to do. But there's more within Malick's genius choice to let us in on the thoughts of the "villain" , thoughts that are filled with such vulnerability, delivered so differently by Nolte than the rest of his performance, as his voice is of an exhausted and sad man. There's no pride in his voice in his contemplation, in his choices to try to fulfill this ambition, it is rather this near heartbreak of an acceptance of a man pushing himself to do what he knows isn't right to do what he thinks he must. As context that instantly prevents Tall from being a standard army brass character, and becoming so much more as the film progresses.

Like Welsh and Witt, Tall too has a counterpart, though very different here in Captain Staros (Elias Koteas), the man leading the direct assault of Tall's campaign. The first instance in which Tall and Staros come into conflict is when the progression of the attack has stalled due to a seemingly impenetrable, from a direct attack, machine gun nest. Nolte's performance is as the villain as he brings such a vicious bluster as he comes in strong and hard, demanding that Staros attack regardless of the extremely likely casualties. Nolte brings this ferocity of something more than just wanting to progress in this battle, but a man whose whole life's purpose is reliant on this attack. Nolte's is great because he doesn't play this one note, despite the fact that Tall is presenting himself to Staros in trying to force the attack, as even the way Nolte wipes his head in the argument that signals a bit of the truth behind the presentation. Staros, who empathizes with his men above all else, refuses directly against orders. Though they are talking over the phone, each performance works against the other so powerfully as Koteas brings this calm against Tall's raging to try to get it, but again Nolte in just a subtle moment shows the weakness in this ferocity. Nolte presents a man who is pushing forth this anger as his way of believing he must. Nolte portrays the character not as a man who is as just as he is, but a man believing he must be something more than who he might actually be.

We see this as he gets towards the front, and Nolte's physicality is just pitch perfect as we see, as his narration also denotes a man very much "playing a part" in his far more somber, far more naturally human delivery within the man's mind. Nolte walks up to the front line with all this swagger, essentially presenting himself as the "ideal" commanding officer as he comes into the front line with two methods in his arsenal. That is more rage with Staros as the dog barking his orders as the tough commander and the other as the inspiring of his troops. There's a great brief moment as he walks through with a stick, tapping it on a soldier and "come on son" as Nolte performs it as though Tall is ready to be photographed for a propaganda poster encouraging men to face their enemy as brave soldiers. Nolte continues this as Tall states his belief that this battle could be the turning point of the war and argues with Staros over what it will take. Nolte is fantastic in the way he nearly rambles on about the potential of the battle with this specific enthusiasm of the man's ambition but also this way he delivers the callousness of which Tall prods Staros about sacrificing his men. Nolte prods with every question presenting as this attempted simplification of trying to avoid really dealing with the idea, rather than making it seem some absurdity that his men won't die. My favorite moment of the scene is after he's done, where Staros very quietly gives a passive "you might be right", Nolte brings vulnerability within the attempted dominating way of speechifying. His "speech" being that Staros should just assume Tall is right, although an attempt at domination, Nolte brings just the right combination between the force the man wants to push but in his eyes not nearly the certainty to truly command the way he would wish.

After the hill is taken, Nolte is just outstanding in the amount of jubilation he brings in just walking it as though he has made the achievement with no sense of the life lossed, just the joy of what "he" has accomplished. When one of his soldiers John (John Cusack), who made the brave move against the hill makes a few requests, Nolte is so good in the way he fluctuates on so many levels of Tall in the scene. When John simply asks for a way, Nolte shows this sort of built in instinct in playing the part of the tough colonel, "Forget the way" with a callous disregard for the health of the very men that have accomplished his "dream" so far. Nolte's amazing the way he shows it though, as the way the man beneath that catches himself when he acknowledges who he is talking to, and suddenly his voice becomes almost whisper quiet, much more human, as he offers some weak attempts at assurances. Nolte moving between the bark and the meek whimper between the two in his argument. As John doesn't relent, Nolte is mesmerizing as he goes off in the very truth of Tall in speaking about what this truly represents to his whole life in the army, there is a thrill in the idea as he sings the possibilities, but in this same mania there is such pontent, and deep seeded frustrations of an older man left behind within his career. Nolte excels in showing all of that vulnerability in the man, trying to present himself as anything but. Within it the true motivation of the man. My favorite moment of the great scene for Nolte is right at the end though where with genuine pride in Nolte's voice Tall thinks of John as a son to him, however again it continues as he notes that his actual son is a bait salesman. Nolte brings so much in this one line, in the way he speaks it so regretfully, and in his eyes you see a man so lost in his life, with this war, in his mind, being the only solution to give it meaning.

The conflict between Staros and tall culminates as Tall relieves Staros of his command. A great scene for both actors because of the disconnect both articulate so beautifully. Koteas so beautifully shows the man who cares about every one of his men, where Nolte comes in representing the "need" for the push for the war. Nolte's performance so flawlessly creates this very difficult idea of a man selling a false bag of goods, who knows it, but isn't *quite* a con man either. Nolte's great in the way he speaks every word of "firing" Staros as not being "tough enough", as he brings this kind of casual disregard as though he wasn't meeting a work quota, rather than was vouching for the lives of human beings. Tall this time stays steadfast, however Nolte still shows that he must sell his own certainty, to himself in a way, as he speaks about the cruelty of the jungle as a talking point, then segues towards this almost friendly way of softening through a "severance package" of military decorations. When Staros asks "why" Nolte is tremendous in the way he wraps this insecurity of the man, by again first just saying for his wounds as though he's doing it as a favor, but as the question needles at him, that bluster comes out again of a man covering up so much to convince himself what he is doing is right. The decision is followed by orders, where we get a final standout moment for Nolte as he looks on silently alone looking at the corpse of dead men. Nolte is outstanding in Tall seeing the dead men he sacrificed, and that loss finally registering on his face so powerfully in his performance. So powerful because we see the man stripped of all his ambition, all of his reasoning, just looking at the result, and Nolte conveys this quiet internal revelation of maybe the better man that was within, which he hid away for the sake of war. Nolte delivering yet another truly great performance in this film, creating such a dynamic and human portrait that creates such tremendous depth to the type of role that usually is one note. Nolte gives his greatest turn by not rejecting the note, rather showing the very real person who has compromised himself to craft that "note". 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1998: Tom Wilkinson in Shakespeare in Love, Jeremy Davies in Saving Private Ryan, Ralph Fiennes in The Prince of Egypt & Noah Emmerich in The Truman Show

Tom Wilkinson did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite receiving a BAFTA nomination, for portraying Hugh Fennyman in Shakespeare in Love.

Let's take a moment to honor the great Tom Wilkinson, rarely was there not a time where he brought a bit of something extra to any role no matter the size, and was just a welcome addition to any ensemble. His role in Shakespeare in Love might be the truest form of this, as really my favorite aspect of the entire film, partly because it is entirely in the realm of putting on Romeo and Juliet at the Globe Theater. Wilkinson plays one of the men Philip Henslowe (Geoffrey Rush), owns money to that we see in the opening of the film where he is ready to torture the man for his earnings. Wilkinson played initially very much the powerful heel, something he was frequently called to do, and with good reason. From his stature, to his regal presence, to just his commanding manner, Wilkinson had an ease with menace, and that is certainly the case here. Even though this film is largely a comedy Wilkinson brings a very much a real threat with his calm grin as his men go about torturing Henslowe for the money, until he comes up with some situation where Wilkinson's Fennyman will become a beneficiary of the next production. Where Wilkinson makes his first easy glide over to the comedic acceptance of the terms with a great bright grin on his face, though even in that the certain danger Fennyman presents is very much alive.

The situation makes Fennyman into a new world of the theater, and in turn the man is a bit out of his element for the most part. We occasionally get another moment of threat again to Henslowe if something goes wrong, or his eagerness to join a fight of men interrupting a rehearsal, which I especially love Wilkinson's performance of. Although the former moment we get that of the brutal loan shark, the latter, while utilizing the intensity of the loan shark in the physical fight, Wilkinson brings this sense of joy as though it is just the old accustomed routine for the man to deliver a beat down so does it in stride, though there's something a little different, a sense of quiet passion about it that Wilkinson's performance portrays that now Fennyman isn't being violent just for money, there's a genuine matter of pride as he's part of this creative endeavor in the globe. The idea that is so wonderfully realized in the moment where favored actors arrive, and even largely silence, but allow Fennyman to stay as a proprietor. Wilkinson's reaction in the moment is greatness, because he's utterly convincing in his silence because he brings awe within the silence, showing the tough loan shark, genuinely lost for words when silenced by those engaging in what he sees as real artistry.

The last act of Wilkinson work, as much as he makes great use of every second he had before being hilarious as the no nonsense loan shark, to being funnier as when that loan shark gets so invested in the theater, to being even greater when he given the small but pivotal role by Shakespeare as the seller of the poison that will lead to the final tragedy. Wilkinson's so good in just portraying the immediate moment of Fennyman being lost for words and creating in that reaction the sense of the man truly treasuring this opportunity to the best of his abilities. Something we see then when the man is repeating his lines to himself, Wilkinson brings this spirit of a man gripped in fear of the task in front of him but at the same time with this absolute conviction about getting the lines right given he sees this endeavor as so valuable. A feeling that reveals itself when Fennyman's moment finally comes into the performance of the play, and Wilkinson and Fennyman steal the show, and are just marvelous as one. Because Fennyman delivers a great performance bringing such intensity in creating the sense of real dread to the nature of the poison, and Wilkinson is amazing because he shows Fennyman performing as though every line is the most important line of his life, but he's also genuinely great in being this actor bringing the utmost to a brief yet pivotal role and making sing beyond its text. Which one can take the role of Fennyman, as for me, just as Fennyman steals the play, Wilkinson steals the film. Every moment he gets he makes the most, whether he needs to bring menace, comedy or artistic passion, Wilkinson delivers and brings forth the most entertaining arc in the film, but also strangely the most compelling as well.

Jeremy Davies did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Private Timothy Upham in Saving Private Ryan.

As I've frequently noted, Saving Private Ryan is both a reinvention of the old fashioned WWII film, and also just an old fashioned WWII film. One way is in the colorful crew we follow through the mission, that despite some claims otherwise, very much are defined by a trait or two. One of the men theoretically in this situation is Jeremy Davies as the pencil pusher brought onto active duty due to his knowledge of foreign languages. Setup to be the cowardly inexperienced soldier of the group with somewhat faulty artistic ambitions and always out of his element. What Davies does is what any actor needs to do with such a role with potential pitfalls in this instance, is just make it seem real when it could easily be caricature. Davies does so from even the opening scene where we have him recruited by Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) and he has to do some physical maneuvers to show a klutzy manner overemphasizing, script wise, the inexperience of the character. Davies though nicely doesn't play into any misplaced comedy with his own performance, no wide eyes or silliness, rather a straightforward sense of the sudden hit of adrenaline in the less than refined movement of the man completely out of his element, but made believable by his performance. As we progress, we naturally get the experienced men low key insulting him for wanting to write a book and not knowing the lingo like Fubar. Davies consistently creates space within his performance not to go for kind of the easy delivery in emphasizing the stupidity, or at least ignorance of Upham, even when written as such. He wisely underplays the moments, like looking through his guidebook for fubar, to be genuine in Upham being lost in this situation, leaning towards creating a reality of someone just lost in the situation rather than a silly type, which I'd say Edward Burns for example very much is as the cynical guy. 

Allowing for a greater reality and power to his work when they are in battle, and Davies's performance brings the real fear to his work within every battle. Grounding each moment as we see his physical work as Upham often gripped in that state of truly being nearly paralyzed by the battle, while trying to uphold a kind of humanity. Eventually leading to the moment where he tries to keep a German soldier from being executed by the men, Davies bringing this basic humanity to his performance that brings only the sincere empathy in the plight and again, doesn't overplay to become cloying as though he is superior in the act, rather fixated on just not going towards the barbarous act. Something which ends up being the challenge of the character as they reach the titular Ryan and the final battle, where Upham's measure is tested as he acts as the ammunition delivery boy. And Davies is great in every reaction, every moment of hesitation, exhaustion and terror. Particularly when his failure to act leads to the death of a comrade, and Davies's performance delivers on a man just shivering in fear as a German soldier walks by his pathetic husk. Something that would seem potentially too much, if Davies had ever played into the caricature, but he earns it by having been honest with the role to deliver on this moment. Even more essential perhaps for his final moment of again freezing as he sees even the old German captive he had helped save being instrumental in killing his comrades, only taking action after the battle is nearly over. A scene that Davies grants a greater impact to because he does this, and shoots that German captive, Davies plays not as a machismo, but rather this quiet shame of a man still living in his cowardice even when finally doing something. Davies consistently delivers on elevating the caricature to a character and beyond the limits of the screenplay.

Ralph Fiennes did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Rameses in The Prince of Egypt.

Voice casting frequently is casting with a specific purpose in mind, particularly when using a known actor, and casting Fiennes as Rameses very much seems to fulfill the purpose of the villain, given his commanding voice that often emphasizes a cold menace. Interesting then that this version completely subverts that idea given the film much more looks at Moses and Rameses as brothers, rather than rivals even before Moses's true parentage is revealed. And that is where the genius of the casting reveals itself because as much as Fiennes could've played that casting choice, the even greater choice is the casting of Fiennes not for the menace he could bring but rather the fact that he's a great actor. Fiennes for over half the film isn't at all the expectation of a Fiennes performance even remotely, as he brings such warmth in every vocal delivery that emphasizing the brotherly connection between Rameses and Moses. When Moses learns about his true parentage and runs, Fiennes's performance emphasizes even then an earnest empathetic delivery of a brother trying to be there for his own and confused when Moses, after killing a slave driver, runs away. Only for Moses to return and even then Fiennes subverts the expectation in bringing even a cheerfulness to his replies to Moses and eagerness to connect with his brother who had been away. Even when Moses challenges him to let his people go, Fiennes's performance brings a bemused quality still keeping alive the idea of Rameses not knowing how not to deal with Moses as a brother. It is only when Moses is insistent on it that Fiennes changes tone effectively, though even then with a subtle nuance in his voice to convey a sense of betrayal in their former connection and the right degree of vulnerable insistence that he will not be a "weak link" as a Pharoah. Only bringing out the force of his voice when essentially Rameses is presenting himself as the force he wants to be rather than what he really may be. Fiennes even has the chance to sing in "Plagues", and while never going to be a focal point as a performance of his, regardless acquits himself well there in bringing a more emotional performance that again alludes to the depth of the conflict that is personal as well as political. Even after the plagues, Rameses still tries to connect with Moses, and Fiennes delivers so much within every word in creating his sense of anguish over the plagues mixed in with nostalgia for their past and sadness of what has happened to them. Fiennes bringing not a cold callousness, but an emotional rage then when Rameses threatens the children of the Jewish people, as his father has done. Leading though to the opposite when the final plague, the angel of death, comes which leads to the death of Rameses's own son. Fiennes again delivering all the raw heartbreak in just a brief line as he sends his people away, and again bringing such humanity to the technical villain of the piece. Fiennes consistently does this however, finding every nuance he can with only his voice, and doesn't waste a bit of the potential depth within the role of Rameses here. 

Noah Emmerich did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Louis Coltrane who is portraying Marlon in The Truman Show.

The always dependable Noah Emmerich plays the designated best friend of Truman (Jim Carrey), who is the star of the reality show he's not aware is his reality. Marlon/Louis being in one of the strangest situations as he must be one of the chief liars to Truman while also being his friend. Emmerich's performance I think might be one of the great examples of an actor getting the unfortunate short shrift in the edit, and an example of one of those things which I do really like the Truman Show, you get those glimpses for even more potential in the film. The story of Marlon/Louis is one of these things, and it might seem strange then that I am taking time to review Emmerich, but I think his performance remains a great example of an actor doing what he can with so much limited material. Because in the final edit, Marlon/Louis is basically just a stooge of the show where it doesn't get into his own feelings about living this lie of pretending to be a man's best friend, though technically you might still be his friend. And we see some of that where we see Marlon/Louis is designed to keep Truman content in his current state, while obviously also making sure the cameras catch the labels on his beer can. Emmerich gives the performance of Marlon/Louis as kind of a bad performance, though effectively so, in that Louis plays Marlon very thin in just accepting everything as is, as perfect without any need to question it. Emmerich's eyes as Louis playing Marlon are not quite lifeless, but nearly so, in showing a man truly just going through the motions of supporting the existence designed for Truman. Something that challenges only when he must convince Truman of his fake reality where Truman is in a truly conflicted state. And this is the scene of Emmerich's performance that alludes to the rest of his work, and is truly great work, because Emmerich is creating the layers of every word. As on the surface it is still just Marlon convincing Truman of the fake reality again, as he is voicing the words of his director Christof (Ed Harris). As Emmerich is feeding the nostalgic lines of the past of togetherness and how they got along, he does the surface Marlon words of supportive comfort, but in Emmerich's eyes you can see Louis genuinely filled with nostalgia but also shame for using the nostalgia in the lie. Emmerich takes an extra second in every beat of the scene that goes beyond Marlon convincing Truman, and you see Louis hating himself. A moment of extra emphasis that alludes to the truth even as he is speaking the lie. When he tells Truman that he'd have to be lying for the reality to be a lie, Emmerich is great because as he tells his sacrificial support to Truman with a caring expression, and speaks "the last thing I'd ever do is lie to you", Emmerich's performance is amazing because in his face you see Louis being genuinely torn up about what he is doing, feeling the raw emotion of lying to his friend, even as he tells the "truth" to him. Emmerich never breaks, it is with subtle throat clear, a glance, a bit of real sorrow, but shows Louis within Marlon in that moment. It is great work that alludes to an even greater performance, even as the rest of the film, despite a deleted scene showing otherwise and the script showing more, we leave Marlon/Louis as just a pawn in the end. Still even within those unfortunate edits, is a credit to Emmerich's work that he was still able to allude to the conflict of his character even if the filmmakers chose not to truly give any time to it.

Alternate Best Actor & Supporting Actor 1998: Rufus Sewell & Kiefer Sutherland in Dark City

Rufus Sewell did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying John Murdoch in Dark City.

Dark City offers an ideal companion piece to The Truman Show as an even more literal manufactured existence, and later the Matrix, which apparently cribbed some of the parts of its sets, and while both those films are superior due to greater directors at the helm, there are some fundamental elements of this film that are my favorite of any of these films.

One of these elements is Rufus Sewell in the lead role of John Murdoch, cast because he was then a basic unknown, and for all of us now, basically still feels like an unknown here because it's such a different performance than he would become known for, the evil British guy. He's neither British nor evil here, in fact one could argue his character is about to be programmed to be the typical Rufus Sewell role before waking up when he wasn't supposed to. Anyway, Sewell gives my favorite lead performance of the three men in the crafted reality films, because he is the most truly just average guy out of any of the performances. Compared to say Keanu Reeves who will always be Keanu Reeves to a certain extent, or even Jim Carrey, who severely downplays his Carreyisms but still brings aspects of his known presence to that role. Sewell rather attempts to portray how a completely normal man would find himself suddenly in a room where he has no memory of how he got there, or even who he is, only picking up clues along the way. Sewell is terrific in the role in the way he indeed just brings us into his mental space and every moment in the opening sequence Sewell doesn't waste. He brings the sudden fear fittingly when he finds a dead woman in his room, just as he finds the immediate anxiety of being completely lost in both place and mind. The most important element in Sewell's performance however is creating the sense of discovery of his John as he goes about trying to figure out who he is, from first picking up his surname from a hotel clerk, then later finding out his first from his wallet in an automat.

We follow John as he first escapes seemingly being set up to be a murderer, to finding himself back at "home" to his "wife" Emma (Jennifer Connelly). Where Sewell doesn't portray John as suddenly home, nor will he be suddenly home at any point within his performance, as he consistently creates the scenario within his performance. Creating reality of the reality breaking situation convincingly. Sewell's work is never of the simplicity of any element because in any circumstance John isn't just dealing with what is going on, he's also dealing with all the ideas around it. When he meets Emma there is an attempt for calm, for understanding for some kind of connection for a brief moment, but it isn't of two long living lovers without exception. Sewell shows him trying to understand the situation through her finding the comfort in her attempt to comfort in a way more so just as a person who cares more than necessarily fully his wife. Unfortunately any way of figuring things out are quickly dashed as he finds himself first on the run from the apparent law, Inspector Bumstead (William Hurt), and eventually from the alien men known as Strangers, who control this world, particularly one Mr. Hand (Richard O'Brien), and seek to capture John. Although John finds himself able to fight back against them with seemingly the same powers they have, Sewell again grounds every moment of this, even the worst bit of CGI of the film (that being the floating power bubbles), through his performance. He shows the discovery in the moment, just as he shows the fear of the strangers, but also the conviction of a man just trying to find the fundamental answers about his existence.

Sewell's performance progresses effectively in each sequence to show John slowly gaining his bearings in some respects while also getting more and more frustrated with others. Sewell naturally exudes this greater presence as the man finding his powers and becoming stronger within this world. While at the same time bringing such honesty in seeing the world get recreated by the strangers in front of his eyes, and showing a very necessary down to earth reaction to what is going on around him. Something that he makes fundamental in how any human would react when their very reality is being reshaped, but also very personal as he finds evidence of his fake memories. Sewell every time creates this very potent frustration of a man seeing his existence as a lie on this greater fundamental level which troubles him more completely. Although with moments of respite, and I think Sewell deserves so much credit in selling the romantic angle element, even though John himself realizes and admits that his relationship with Emma was crafted, but also the alleged affair of their relationship was also a lie. Sewell's moments though of John suggesting their current connection though as truth, is beautifully handled by him because he makes it such simple warmth not of this great love, but of a man finding something just through genuine human care. All of this leading to the finale, in which the actual confrontation between John and the strangers is sadly the weakest part of the film. In part because it focuses on the weakest CGI aspect of the film, also because John doesn't fight Mr. Hand, built up to be the main antagonist, instead oddly fights a different one. Anyway, as somewhat silly as the fight is, Sewell still stands firm in his selling of it, but more so he makes the most of the aftermath, as John recreates the world to be a better place for the humans. There's a wonderful calm and solace that Sewell brings in John, as John finds a kind of peace in making the world, and the fake dreams of his false memories into a reality. With a great moment being his final talk with Mr. Hand, that admonishes not with hate, but rather Sewell convincingly speaks the words with love. It's a terrific performance by Sewell which grounds the entire film, and it's a bit of shame that he was basically sentenced to be the John Murdoch, villain, the strangers wanted him to be for much of his career afterwards.

Kiefer Sutherland did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Dr. Daniel P. Schreber in Dark City.

To say that Kiefer Sutherland gives a strange performance here may be an understatement, though to be fair in a twisted sci-fi film noir, one can't exactly say there isn't at least some ground to work within in this rather overt approach. Sutherland is probably one of the most random actors, as he can give a good performance as readily as a bizarrely terrible one, and just really moves back and forth between such work in his career without really a consistency one way or the other. Sutherland very much just does his thing, so in a way there is no protection of his performance here that may be the bridge between some of his worst work and his best work, as he certainly is making many choices, theoretically baffling, but not quite baffling. Sutherland's character of Dr. Schreber is supposed to be strange, as this man working for the strangers who goes about helping them with their research on their stolen humans, and helps to implant memories and change their crafted reality for them. Sutherland moves around with a limp, his eyes never exactly open in what we'd describe as the "normal" way, every word he speaks is with a bit of a labored breath before or after it. He speaks with a strange fascination of every exposition related to doing the strangers work, albeit mixed in with this kind of admiring fear at the same time.

 

If there's character type he seems to be replicating here, it is the many actors who played Renfield in Dracula adaptations, in this man kind of broken by his servitude to this dark menace. Sutherland certainly colors the exposition of his character as something else, and as much as so much he just needs to unload, he always grants character within it by showing the doctor's specific fascination with his own work, the stranger's work, but also the potential of John. It is a weird performance, but it is a weird character that is supposed to stand out as separate and not entirely fit. But, I'll actually say Sutherland's choices go beyond just being weird, even if he is most certainly that, and it does inform the reality of the character even beyond being a Renfield. As we discover the Dr. was chosen by the strangers for his expertise, and he explains he had to rid himself of everything except that expertise. In flashback, albeit briefly, we see Sutherland seem to be a more complete man except in this desperate state, against the now sort of broken servant he has become, and there is a strange logic to Sutherland's performance after all. This is reinforced through the ending of the film, where the doctor rather than going through the strangers plan to implant John with their consciousness, instead basically gives John an instant supercharge towards mastering his powers against the strangers. A sequence that again shows there is sense to Sutherland's performance, as we see the doctor in John's mind, as that much more complete man, a mentor even, and without all the strange physical manner of the doctor's brokenness, as he informs and encourages John to be ready to take on the strangers. Re-watching the film for the first time in nearly 25 years, this time I got what Sutherland was doing. It is a bizarre turn, though a bizarre turn that does grant a style bridging a gap between Peter Lorre in a film noir and perhaps Rudolf Klein-Rogge in a German expressionist film, in the middle of where Dark City sits in some ways, and where Sutherland finds an odd place, yet a place that I found captivating, if on the most precarious of edges most of the time.

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1998: Thomas Bo Larsen in Festen

Thomas Bo Larsen did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Michael in Festen.

Festen depicts a family gathering for the family patriarch's sixtieth birthday...naturally things don't go according to plan. 

Frequent Thomas Vinterberg collaborator Thomas Bo Larsen plays Michael the son of the birthday man, and the brother of Christian (Ulrich Thomsen) who has a vendetta to expose his father as a pedophile sexual abuser of his family, after his and Michael's sister commits suicide. Where Christian is weighed down by that abuse, Michael is a very different man. In fact Bo Larsen's performance is one of a kind of id as we see him even coming to their gathering place without any sort of good grace and manners. Bo Larsen throws himself into the scene in a way where there is no sense of any kind of balance of the man. Bo Larsen's performance is that of this ball of energy that isn't exactly the most pleasant however, as it goes in about any direction with a sudden specified outburst, in moments of very unexpected cruelty whether that be a moment of seemingly more silly flamboyance before a celebration, or more disturbing moments of sexual cruelty, misdeeds or overt racism towards his sister's African American boyfriend. Bo Larsen presents it as all in this way a disturbing ease in the way he unleashes himself so naturally, that it seems as authentic as any moment of calm, and painfully presents Michael as just the way that he is.

The revelation that perhaps explains parts of Michael is in Christian who reveals his father's abhorrent treatments of his own children in a toast, that despite the revelation the party proceeds as though nothing has happened. None the less it seems to grant understanding to the behavior of each of the children even if it is never stated as such. As we see this most evidently so when their father speaks to Michael with very specific instructions for the ceremony, and the potential reward. The usually so brazen Michael is very much a different man, Bo Larsen becomes retiring a moment, fearful as quickly and just listening as a little boy would if he was on the edge between punishment and reward from a parent. Bo Larsen in just a brief mostly reactionary scene reveals so much of what defines Michael as a man broken by his father as Christian is, but how his own trauma reveals itself couldn't be more different perhaps in the specific nature of that trauma. As we see rather a man suffering in his trauma as is the case for Christian, Bo Larsen portrays the man in a way almost recreating the manner in some degree, as though the implication perhaps is that Michael may not have been sexually abused in the same way he was regardless still cruelly treated in some way. In turn Bo Larsen presents a man who covers up his own experience in part by hedonistic pleasures or becoming cruel in his own ways. It is all just the natural thrust within Bo Larsen's performance that creates this intensity within Michael as a man who clearly acts first and thinks later as related to both his urges and any reaction to any emotion. When their father attempts to deny any wrongdoing, Michael reacts by becoming his personal hatchet man by both physically beating Christian and leading a racist chant against his sister's boyfriend after the latter presents sympathy for Christian. Bo Larsen is impeccably vile in these scenes, with a key animalistic approach to every one of these moments in emphasizing Michael as a man doing it with very little thought, and just the most immediate action as to please his father. Change only comes when their living sister reads the suicide note of their deceased sister that supports all of Christian's claims, and Bo Larsen does much with his genuine reactions of a man who finally has to think for once, being less of a surprise and more of a forceful acceptance to something he likely already knew deep down within himself. Leading however to less thinking as he goes about brutally attacking his father instead as the same id action, though the difference being there can be any good of it. Bo Larsen earns the final scene of his character finally being supportive of his brother, because he doesn't make it this grand shift, rather a gentle one of a man no longer being caught within the viral poison of his father. Bo Larsen's performance most needs to ride the line of the blunt reality the film is crafting due to the overt nature of Michael, yet as extreme as his character is, he feels as authentic as any other element because of the honesty of Bo Larsen's performance which simply IS, Michael and realizes an authentic extreme.