Alternate Best Actor 1986: River Phoenix in Stand By Me

River Phoenix did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Chris Chambers in Stand By Me. 

Stand By Me follows four boys as they set on a life-defining "quest" to see a dead body. 

After watching the film again after more than two decades, the film I recalled being good, but this entirely is a far greater film than I had even remembered. Part of this is the central cast, Wil Wheaton is the weak link, partially as being the "main character" Gordie, the most straightforward inspiring writer, and while I don't think Wheaton is bad, it is more of an example of by comparison where he suffers most. As both Corey Feldman, as the mentally ill abused Teddy, and Jerry O'Connell as the most childish of the four Vern, both acquit themselves well. I will note just how broken Teddy is, wasn't something I picked up on so long ago. But the star of the show is unquestionably River Phoenix as the de-facto leader of the group Chris, who is known to come from a "bad family". Phoenix had been in a few tv shows and films before this, including the incomplete and imperfect Explorers, however the level of confidence in his performance here is truly remarkable for a performer at any age. Phoenix is entirely charismatic and serves well in establishing Chris as the leader of the group and just seemingly the clear thinker of the group despite his reputation. Phoenix isn't never even remotely a child actor here, and isn't doing well for a child actor, he's fully just an actor here because his work goes beyond just that confidence. Phoenix has a naturalism here that is just a given at a certain point, where there are many small moments in say in his co-stars where you see shades of the inexperience, Phoenix on the other hand is a born actor. 

Phoenix is so good that in a way he is fascinating giving co-star in the group scenes with the other kids, because as confident and commanding as his performance is, he never feels like a show off among them. Rather the ease in which Phoenix carries scenes is something that he makes build the general chemistry between the boys that much more believable. There isn't a moment where Phoenix is forcing the banter, or the digs between each other, however Phoenix bringing this "as a rock" like quality in the center of scenes just balances everything even in the moments of bigger acting from O'Connell and Feldman, he helps you just to accept it through his reactions to them. Phoenix makes Chris the more mature one, though there is a whole other brilliant factor in that element, which crafts that essential anchor within the group. They are never distant even when at their most childish, you don't just believe the kids, but you come to fully feel as if you are within the group in these scenes of exchange between them. Each plays their part to a degree, and Phoenix plays his part best in making them connect the most honestly. And that is where the true genius of this performance exists in pulling off what seems to be quite the magic trick, even though the performance is always completely natural, which in a way merely makes the "trick" that much greater an achievement. The trick that Phoenix achieves is the way he is able to portray both childishness and maturity, where it is hard not to marvel at his ability as a performer. 

Phoenix in a given scene can fluctuate between someone in at least their twenties to the preteen he is, all in the same scene, all in the same moment. It is truly extraordinary because it isn't as though Phoenix suddenly dramatically shifts in delivery or physical manner, yet what he embodies just changes right before our eyes with such ease. Phoenix articulates each and every moment differently because Chris is a kid, who is a kid, but a kid who has been through a lot even in his young life. When fooling around with the other kids he's just a juvenile in his random insults about dick sizes or mothers, where there is that petulance in his voice that isn't out of place of course, because he is a preteen. At the same time the moments where he talks about his dad being meaner than usual, the history of that is just suddenly in his eyes so directly, his voice just blunt as a person who has lived so many tough years just laying out the reality of the situation as a simple truth. One particularly amazing scene of this juxtaposition is early on as he starts out the journey still in town, showing Gordie the gun he swiped from his dad for their journey together. When Chris is showing off the gun, there is the gravity in every single one of Phoenix's words laying out the severity of the deadly weapon that sits in the hand of each boy, right down to noting that he made sure it wasn't loaded. When Gordie plays with it then accidentally shoots it off, Phoenix immediately is a scared kid who has been fooling around as he screams right with Gordie to make a hasty retreat as soon as possible. It is astonishing work because this switch isn't forced, nor is it unnatural, it rather is this completely believable manner of someone who needs adult grit in his life, but is still a silly kid at the same time. 

One can find so much in every frame that Phoenix is in, just in watching to see "what age" Chris is in a given moment as the leader, but again it is never an exercise it is a reality that Phoenix uses to only make Chris all the more impactful as a character. Where we see this so potently is in his relationship with the other boys. With Vern is largely comedic, where in a way Chris is most the fellow kid with the least maturity of the group, this is in stark contrast to his moments with Teddy. One remarkable scene as such is as the boys first play along a train while a train is very far away, and Phoenix presents the simple joy of phony danger right along the other boys without hesitation. When Teddy continues to stay on the tracks and begins to ramble about World War II based on things that his mentally ill dad has said, Phoenix's expressions instantly change to reflect the severity of the situation and the sense of understanding that Teddy is going off the deep end in the moment. Phoenix's performance suddenly switches to that maturity of concern as he forces Teddy off the tracks and berates him for his behavior. The most powerful of the relationships is with Gordie, where we see the best friend who absolutely has his back no matter what. Again there are the moments of truly just the friends being friends of their age, but so much more when Gordie bemoans taking college ready classes which will take him away from his friends. In a scene that I can't help but think it directly inspired a certain famous Ben Affleck spoken speech in Good Will Hunting, Chris basically telling Gordie to essentially forget his friends because of his potential as a writer. Phoenix is outstanding in the scene because there is such measured warmth he brings into every word of the speech. He brings a tough directness to it, but also this real sense of concern for his friend. Phoenix makes it so clear the wisdom of Chris in as he advises his friend that will be the best for that friend, even if it will take him away from him. And especially adore Phoenix's way of describing Gordie's writing, Phoenix shows such genuine admiration and appreciation for his friend's talent that is of absolute friend. 

The friendship between Chris and Gordie is paramount to several key moments throughout the journey and we get the return for the favor between the two of them each time. Phoenix's own moment of Chris breaking down his story of stealing school milk money, which is true but he also confessed to a teacher who in turn stole the money for themselves. Phoenix is amazing in the scene because we see the process of revealing both the maturity of the eventual man and the completely understandable vulnerability of the boy in the moment. In his breakdown he switches from showing that strength at times but bringing the fundamental heartbreak of a boy whose sense of any innocence was purged that much more by the teacher betraying him. That moment Gordie comforts Chris but Chris returns the favor when Gordie breaks down when they see the dead body, believing his parents wished he died rather than his older brother who had died in an accident. Phoenix on the other side is just as incredible in the fully loving embrace and as blunt as he was in telling Gordie the truths about their futures, Phoenix is as blunt in giving the speech telling Gordie that his father just doesn't know him. Phoenix brings such emotional sensitivity while having that toughness to him in the same breath and again it is such complex nuanced emotional work from such a young performer that it is absolutely extraordinary work. Which is the truth of the entirety of his performance. Phoenix is a boy and a man as Chris. When he faces off against the bully Ace (Kiefer Sutherland of course), Phoenix has that strength of someone much taller, much stronger in his eyes, however as Ace calls the notion and is about to attack him, Phoenix as believable waivers as the young kid he is as the fear almost overwhelms is his expression. There's never a break in this realization by Phoenix; it is a natural flow between these qualities that define Chris. Phoenix manages to perform beyond his years, by successfully being a wholly natural commanding performer, who is that boy, but finds that seasoned age of a boy who has been through more than a little in his short life. There isn't a facet of Chris that seems forced, he is warm, he is tough, he is childish, he is adult, he is it all, and it is Phoenix who makes every moment of it feel not only completely believable but also so very powerful and poignant. 

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Yves Montand, Gérard Depardieu & Daniel Auteuil in Jean de Florette & Yves Montand & Daniel Auteuil in Manon des Sources

Yves Montand, Gérard Depardieu did not receive Oscar nominations, despite receiving BAFTA nominations, for portraying César Soubeyran aka "Le Papet" & Jean Cadoret respectively, nor did Daniel Auteuil, despite winning a BAFTA, for portraying Ugolin all in Jean de Florette. Auteuil and Montand were also not Oscar nominated for the same roles for Manon des Sources. 

The first half of a two film series, shot back to back, Jean de Florette is just an incredible film which is both beautiful and heartbreaking in depicting an honest dream against dishonest ambition. 

Quickly it is hard to put Auteuil in supporting when he definitely has more screen time than Montand, and possibly more than Depardieu, and seems like it was a case of "servile equals supporting" which is extremely silly. Anyway, the film opens with the unlikely characters to follow in such a story, as more often we would begin with our tragic hero then see the villains who will try to stand in his way. This film is the opposite where we open with the colluding villains as they set their plans. We have the paternal, though in this instance being the Uncle, role of a long standing family in Southern France looking for some avenue to increase his family's wealth, along with his nephew Ugolin played by Auteuil. Although related the two are dissimilar in manner, and performance. Montand's performance is very much defined by his status as the old noted actor, with that whole type of regal presence accentuating the nature of the man of this assumed privilege and even prestige. Contrasting that most bluntly is his nephew, where Auteuil is made up quite a bit with his teeth and nose, to look almost rat-like, and is something that Auteuil wholly embraces with his performance. A performance that is my kind of mannered performance, because I never even thought of it as mannered when watching it. Although it is entirely so where Auteuil accentuates his makeup and prosthetics with his whole facial expressions, that is unlike any Auteuil I've seen, along with his voice. Each element being extremely specific in creating this specific sniveling quality, although remarkably performed because he wholly convinces you just of Ugolin as this person. A person who very much is defined by his life of labor, who lives with the dirt, and Auteuil accentuates every bit of this by embracing those mannerisms making you believe and sense the history of this man's life.  

We are presented with their unlikely state of being even from their earliest conversation where Montand comes in with this gracious even warm spirit to his nephew making suggestions that Ugolin might attempt to woo a local woman to find a wife with this paternal wisdom as the defining feature of his delivery. Something that Auteuil reacts to with nearly deaf ears and just kind of a confused expression of why exactly he'd want to "burden" himself with such things. Mentioning instead his use of prostitutes as all the women he could possibly need, Auteuil makes this pronouncement as honestly as Ugolin knows, which there isn't a second of consideration and such a life of expectation isn't something that Auteuil's work suggests even phases Ugolin. Crafting the odd pairing of the two as despite being family what draws them together is only the collusion of family, as we see César as this instructor for Ugolin even if we hardly feel they are as one despite working as a pair. Something that becomes more evident as the two come upon a dying neighboring farmer, which is perhaps where we see the clearest bond of the two reacting not with concern for the man, but rather this instant connection of the possibilities each man senses with the potential death. Even the notion of criminal murder being sort of danced around which Montand delivers with regal distance and Auteuil with dogged, well, dog eat dog mentality. The man indeed dies, which while watching the property the men find the all important water source for the property, where we see the master criminal and his fool apprentice. Montand bringing this shifty manner in his eyes of catching something to steal, while controlling Ugolin who Auteuil portrays as less able to stay calm in expresses this energy at the potential that César controls lest to alarm others of the whereabouts of the spring.  

Their plans hit a snag when the inherited owner Jean Cadoret appears, along with his wife and young daughter. A man with a hump, and played by a more than dubious man, Gérard Depardieu, which speaks to truly the nature of acting as he manages to deliver such gentle earnestness from the second he enters into the frame. Depardieu's performance is brimming with such approachable excitement as he enters as Jean, a man of the city, who reacts in wonder as he sees the gorgeous hills of southern France. Depardieu is truly endearing here as he manages to make the character's enthusiasm something which is completely honest and entirely contagious. As he looks upon in wonderment and pronounces all his dreams, it is hard not to caught up with his splendid ideas of making a home for himself with his family, because the sincerity of the dream just seems to rest in the initial glowing eyes of his as he seems drawn into such a fantasy place, for him anyways. One of the many brilliant ideas of this narrative however is the presentation of the dream, from the outset, is not from the dream, but rather how the dream is the obstacle of the two men we were introduced to first. César sees him as a threat to his plan which he then suggests to Ugolin to befriend Jean only to be in the position to undermine him when possible. Montand's performance is without overt maniacal quality, rather it is with this overly practical dismissiveness. Montand's performance will be consistent for much of the film as he appears basically as commentary on the attempts of Jean to make it as a farmer on the land, basically as this worst kind of commentator who speaks of every challenge that will befall him, and even shrugs off every potential victory of Jean with some negative alternative in the future. Montand's performance makes César a villain whose villainy exists largely through callous indifference in just observing the failure with conviction that it will come sooner than later. Montand's performance is effective though largely one of consistency, where there is maybe a touch more frustration a few times within his still confidence at Jean's assumed failure, however I would say within the scheme of the film Auteuil and Depardieu have the purposefully more dynamic arcs.  

Speaking of, we are given the perspective of knowing the truth so what we see instead is this cruel game of Ugolin presenting himself as a friendly neighbor to Depardieu's Jean, something Auteuil excels with but not entirely excelling with in terms of the quality of Ugolin's own "performance". Ugolin isn't exactly the best but gets by as Auteuil presents very much an act, though only something someone with a bit more cynicism would catch onto right away. Auteuil's main delivery in these moments is as the doubting "friend", where any idea Jean presents Ugolin has some negative slant on the idea that undercuts it in some way. Auteuil presents it with a certain effective simplicity where seemingly the simple man is just putting forth his own wisdom, as limited as it is, which is a combination of the doubt of his voice and confusion in his face on the atypical thinking presented by Jean. Auteuil tiptoes around the idea of honest confusion with put upon negativity effectively to make Ugolin seemingly reliable enough for the very much trusting Jean. Contrasting that is Depardieu's own work that is so endearing through the sincerity of every moment of his optimism as he explains his ideas of breeding rabbits. There's the energy not of someone with a plan but a fundamental truth to make choices to fulfill his dream. Even when Ugolin offers a negative slant to every single one of his ideas, Depardieu doesn't react as someone brushing the ideas off, rather as someone who honestly cannot see such negativity because his belief is so pure. Something that perhaps makes a little bit of a complication for Ugolin where Auteuil is quite excellent in being able to balance the degree of which guilt ways on the man, as he offers some minor help to Jean, but never of course tells him the truth that would make his plans completely thrive. Auteuil puts just enough shame in his eyes in certain moments, where Jean's trust is so pure, or even in the moment where he hides away to renege on an offer he had made. Auteuil doesn't redeem Ugolin but does offer the right glints of humanity to suggest a man who knows he's doing wrong though can't quite overcome his faults to do the right thing. 

The progression of the degradation of Jean is where the power of the film exists because Depardieu begins with such a potent sense of that dream and what we see is the way that dream seems to be slowly purged away from him, however not in the way you might expect. Depardieu is wonderful in accentuating every moment of success with such joy, a joy that isn't selfish but rather something he wants to not only share with his wife and daughter but anyone nearby. In his eyes you see a man who believes himself to be nearly living in some kind of heaven for himself, so much so that even when he comes upon squatters on his land he only is inviting towards them. Depardieu is not presenting as foolish but rather the nature of the man to love and welcome all to be part of what he sees as an ideal experience. Unfortunately due to the lack of the spring it does eventually take its toll upon him, as he begins to run out of money. One especially heart-wrenching moment comes as Jean asks his wife to allow him to pawn her prized necklace to allow them to get by a little longer. Depardieu is so moving in the scene because you still see the dream in his eyes as a man who is convinced it will all work out, yet there is the first crack in the heartbreak within him as he must ask his wife to do this. Something Depardieu burys within his performance, as the emotions he's trying to hide away from the doubt and the loss of the prized possession, only to find out that his wife already pawned it for the sake of the family. Depardieu's reaction is devastating because you see finally a full break in the dream, and the dawning reality that is tearing at that dream do you see such pain. Something that continues with another powerful though painful scene of a full storm coming, however not close enough to Jean's farm. Depardieu again is so heartbreaking because he goes from such real excitement to the rain to such fundamental anguish, particularly in his delivery of "there's no one up there" as God doesn't answer his prayers and Depardieu brings not just a sense of defeat, but a destruction of a dream. But what is fascinating in Depardieu's work isn't that he doesn't suddenly become just a cynical man, rather he makes something that feels all the more tragic from where he began, which is twisting the dream. Depardieu brings the enthusiasm still however now it isn't with optimism it is reeking with desperation. The same manner of the man wanting for the dream, but now the intensity is making a horrible obsession. Depardieu shows the man clinging onto the dream now rather than living it, and makes it a harrowing act of suffering, leading to his final accidental end. Depardieu makes it an especially powerful portrayal by realizing that shift within the dream from something you can believe in to something that nearly disturbs you. Within the final moments you also have one great moment from Auteuil where you see Ugolin witness what he helped wrought, and that hint of shame suddenly becomes something absorbing in the moment. He still doesn't act as a good man, however Auteuil realizes in his face the real extent of his shame and sorrow. Although not enough as we find both Ugolin and César, after having purchased the land, unplugging the water spring as vultures devour the rewards of their misdeeds as we close out the masterful Jean de Florette. 

Manon des Sources, while still largely effective, does feel more so the epilogue of the previous film than one that completely exists on its own accord for the most part. 

The sequel offers the fallout of the acts of César and Ugolin several years later where they have found profit with the spring, though Jean's now adult daughter Manon (Emanuelle Béart) still resides in the area as a nearly mute shepherd. It seems the ideal life for the pair as the two now live in their success through their ill gotten gains and continue on as such without a seeming worry to anything they have done. That is until Ugolin happens upon a naked Manon to which he becomes instantly infatuated with her. Auteuil's portrayal of this is that of immediate fascination befitting a man who before dismissed the need for a wife as unnecessary due to prostitution, it is simple but also pure in Auteuil's portrayal of his fascination in her eyes but his very manner changes in the moment. Suddenly his movements are even more pathetic as he sneaks around her presence while looking towards her with the same kind of distinct infatuation. Something that leads to a conversation between the two collaborators though of somewhat different natures. And this is quite bluntly where Montand shines in these moments as he shows the older César easing up on his indifference a little bit. As the two converse about Ugolin's desire for a wife where Auteuil speaks every word about his interest now like a little boy who has just discovered love for the first time. Contrasting that with César where Montand brings considerable warmth and joy in his reaction of seeing the potential for his family to live on. Montand is even sweet in the moment as he mentions his own relationships in the past in somewhat metaphorical terms however there is the appropriate sense of nostalgia but with complication that is just overpouring in Montand's delivery. The man is speaking to a time he holds dear but the complication of the time is abundantly clear as in particular he seems to allude to his ideal relationship not working out for some mysterious reason. 

We shift as Ugolin now dressed as a "rich man" tries to woo Manon who is instantly disgusted with him. Auteuil is so perfectly pathetic in the scene because of how he is bringing far too much intensity in his declarations of interest towards her, problematically reminding her of his past with her, and then just his whole physical manner is just so stilted as he walks along with an odd suit that he saw as showing his wealth. Auteuil portrays the man completely misguided in every moment though the intensity of the infatuation is evident in every moment of a man just lost in his lust to the point he ends up sewing a piece of Manon's hair into himself. An act that could seem ridiculous however Auteuil's performance gives an internal logic to this man so stunted in his life that he thinks this will in some way make himself closer to her. At the same time however Manon discovers that the whole town, along with César and Ugolin had conspired against her father, leaving her to find the source of all water for the town and purposefully blocking it. Leading now Ugolin to become the one losing it, although Auteuil's portrayal is very different from Depardieu instead of pulling you into his sadness, he makes you see just how much the man becomes more pathetic in his wretched state of becoming less cogent in any way. Eventually the situation leads to the town to accuse the two men directly of their faults, which unfortunately for Ugolin also coincides with him trying to declare his love for Manon. The scene is ideally painful because Auteuil's performance is as a man who truly doesn't know any better and his simple ability of processing the situation only diminishes more and more as the conversation goes on. Auteuil manages to get to the point it is hard not to feel sympathy because of just how completely lost he is in every reaction in his inability to fully understand his choices and eventually even rage against his uncle. The rage though isn't of a man figuring out he's made a mistake logically, rather wholly raw and irrational is a man falling apart in his core by his mistaken love and limited ability to have any sense of his life. He too becomes heartbreaking in showing a man too destroyed by his crime, though as always within Auteuil's performance purely as a man without the ability to comprehend his failures. Comparing that to Montand who is great as he becomes defensive for his choices bringing a suddenly prideful ferocity to his performance as he challenges the judgment of all. Montand though finally reveals his own break in the man who so confidently oversaw the ruin of another, losing some of that overt confidence to reveal an earnest vulnerability as his voice falters and that reserve of his expression finally falters. 

The last tragedy of the film begins as Ugolin takes his own life due to his guilt, and his insanity from his obsession, leaving César alone, no longer able to make use of all his mechanizations as his whole family line will end with him. Montand's performance remarkably manages to uncover sympathy for César despite his villainous actions throughout both films. Montand does so by just so honestly presenting the sorrow for his nephew bringing such a sense of weight in his voice, his face and his whole physical manner. Montand shows that César has become lost as he saunters around in his depressed state with his only activity being visiting a grave site to visit his seemingly entirely deceased family now. The final tragedy of the tale however comes as César converses with an elderly woman of the community that sheds light on his earlier failed romance. Montand's reactions are amazing throughout the scene as he begins with just kind of confusion to the woman's blame for not having answered a letter, being slightly more intrigued as she suggests it ended up a tragedy. Montand showing the wheels turning in the right way of César's slow realization that he in fact had been the father of Jean after all is tremendous work from him. Montand shows it less as overt horror, but rather understanded sorrow of someone seeing the truth as far too little too late, and just a solemn depression within the man as he realizes all his ill-deeds were against his own son. Montand finally is front and center within both films and doesn't waste this time. Montand delivers the years of waste in the final scenes of the film as we see such a crushing depression within every bit of himself, though with a difference from just the lonely man at the end of a family line, as we now see in his work the pain of hope. We see a moment of him trying to reach out to his granddaughter, who correctly blames him for her father's death, then on his deathbed write a letter with the truth lined out. Montand too manages to be heartbreaking, despite all that his character has done, by so honestly presenting that glint of tenderness in the man mixed in however with the state of a soul truly lost in his shame. All three performers deliver terrific performances in this duology, each crafting their own tragedies that manage to not be repetitive but find the individual power of how the destruction of each man is sewn. 

(Montand for Jean)

(Montand for Manon, Depardieu) 

(Auteuil)

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Roberto Benigni in Down By Law

Roberto Benigni did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Roberto aka Bob in Down By Law. 

Down By Law is a wonderful Jarmusch about the interactions between three unique inmates. 

If there's a director to find a place for an idiosyncratic presence it is Jim Jarmusch, and even before we get to the subject of this review, this film opens first with Jack played by John Lurie, musician and the lead of Jarmusch's previous film Stranger Than Paradise. A pimp who gets set up and arrested. Follow that by one of my favorite idiosyncratic presences of cinema Tom Waits, playing Zack a wannabe DJ who too is set up by agreeing to a seemingly innocuous job that ends up being much worse. We come into those two becoming friends while jailed together and forming a low key bond that could only be in a Jarmusch film, from two unexpected performers. But the film lives on the last lead to enter the cell, though he has a brief appearance earlier in the film as we see Benigni randomly come across Zack where he recites a phrase he likes, only to disappear until he too is thrown into their cell. And this is where context of performance matters so much, because I have in no way hidden my lack of love for Benigni's Oscar win, and this is not some completely unrelated performance by any means, however in this instance Jarmusch found Benigni a just about perfect fit here as Bob the inmate, who makes Zack and Jack looks like just a couple of typical guys. 

Benigni's performance is one of pure energy here, a chaotic energy that is going about in every direction in every scene, as even the way he speaks here is a kind of riffing though this a particularly unique riffing where he is just switching between Italian and English constantly. This is not an instance where it is this flawless swapping of a man completely adept at both languages, rather like a musician struggling to find the right note, Benigni performs it as Bob struggling to frequently find the right word. It is all in the delivery though and that is the magical part of the performance. Benigni specifically doesn't hesitate with his verbal delivery, as even as he's stepping over words and lines, he always captures this forward momentum within every phrase that he comes out with confidence even as what he says is at least a little broken in translation. The thing is though is it is a big ole' who cares, because Benigni's energy here just is that endearing in the way he pulls us into his ramblings with a curious sense of discovery, just as the other two men come to feel the same way. It is difficult not to be fascinated by what Jarmusch is capturing which is so perfectly within itself, in a performance that probably wouldn't work in many contexts, but in this specific context it just sings. 

Benigni pulls off something quite fascinating here as he very much turns us into Zack and Jack, in trying to decipher what wisdom is within his ramblings to find out the truth of the matter. As Bob himself has this innate purity about himself where Benigni even explains how Bob killed a man in self-defense as just this matter of fact way, though as just the same potent energy as he explains how to cook a rabbit later. It is all just part of his experience and therefore relates it with as much ease as he would anything else. Benigni succeeds in a way by not really setting apart moments of his performance but rather succeeding in being this purity as Bob. What that really means is that Benigni isn't trying to create this intense character arc where Bob grows, nor is he trying to make Bob this extremely complex person, rather he is just making Bob just so truly and only Bob, as Bob can be, where you just need to listen in a follow whatever random thing he's off on to find out exactly what Bob is talking about. As when Bob suddenly gives notions of escape, then does, it is just as it would be explaining less concerning matter again, yet it all makes sense as this is just Bob being Bob, and for Bob to help his new friends escape is simply a why not just as he does anything else. 

You can't control what Benigni is doing here because just as his delivery is so specifically his own, as is his physical manner here which is performed like Benigni simply is ignoring any traditional blocking for how to maneuver a scene and any sense where the camera is. Frankly Benigni frequently seems lost in a specific space, or at least out of place because of just how light and floaty he can be whether they're stuck in their cell, running down a sewer or wandering around a swamp looking to escape. Again though, logically shouldn't work, but the logic of this film absolutely does, because Benigni simply IS Bob as he goes about his way, and particularly is so effective by the down to earth looks of Waits and Lurie often taking him in, and loving him. The thing is, it is hard not to because he is so endearing, his energy is contagious and you just love the way the man seems unburdened. Even the most distressing moment theoretically, where Bob can't swim and the other two guys consider abandoning him, you know it can't happen because of just how innocent, and childlike Benigni's pleas are to both as asks his friends for help. Eventually the trio find a road, where we get the final bit where they uncover a cafe, which they send Bob to scope out first, which several hours later without a return, they follow. Luckily for all, Bob has discovered the cafe is run by an Italian woman Nicoletta played by Benigni's eventual wife Nicoletta Braschi, so naturally things are going to work out. While I wouldn't quite say this is a different side of Bob, what we do see is a slightly different situation for Bob's energy, as he finds his love in Nicoletta. Something that again just shows Bob's energy again is insatiable as there is such a blunt sincerity but also pleasant intensity about as he speaks so lovingly of every word with every glance towards her even stronger. Something that culminates beautifully in a moment where he invites her to dance in front of Zack and Jack. There Benigni's simple earnestness in his embracing dancing, closing his eyes as though it is the most joyous moment of his life has such an easy poignancy to it, and the endearing nature of Bob makes the moment a treasure in itself. We see Bob get his happy ending, that is befitting the pure character we've seen throughout. A character that is ideal use of Benigni's talents, where his energy is used in the right way, in the right direction, in the right style of Jarmusch and with the right balancing factor via Lurie and Waits. 

Alternate Best Actor 1986

 And the Nominees Were Not:

Kyle MacLachlan in Blue Velvet

River Phoenix in Stand By Me

Roberto Benigni in Down By Law

Yves Montand in Jean De Florette

Erland Josephson in The Sacrifice

Best Actor & Best Supporting Actor 1977: James Caan in A Bridge Too Far, Harrison Ford in Star Wars, James Coburn & Maximilian Schell in Cross of Iron

James Caan did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Staff Sergeant Eddie Dohun in A Bridge Too Far. 

A Bridge Too Far follows the various exploits within Operation Market Garden, the failed wannabe final offensive against Nazi Germany. Within it there are various vignettes constructed by director Richard Attenborough, as a film that I would say is perhaps too inconsistent to be great, but is better than its original "overblown misfire" its reputation would suggest. But the inconsistency here isn't between bad and good, it's between fine and great. One such great element is in the side story of James Caan, an American soldier within the operation we see before the start of the offensive who is asked by a fellow soldier not to let him die. And from the beginning of his screen time, Caan tries to make as much use of it as he possibly can, in immediately granting the dynamic as this comforting figure to his fellow soldier not through any big action but rather through the calm in his presence. Caan plays it just right in terms of seeing the man accept the task but also has just the right sense of a kind of doubt in his eyes. Not an overt doubt in self, but rather this disbelief that he can personally ensure this safety of this one man though is willing to obviously try his best to do so. We next jump back to see Eddie as he's within the operation and we see his friend having suffered a severe injury while Eddie drives both of them in a jeep just barely avoiding German gunfire. One moment that Caan makes the most of is where he dodges a patrol by driving into the forest only for another group of German to stop in the same portion of the soldiers, even one German noticing him. Caan's reaction to the moment is just about perfect in the low key approach he makes to the soldier nonverbally of "hey man we're both human", which the soldier seems to briefly respect before Eddie makes his escape once other soldiers notice. When he arrives back at the makeshift hospital the doctor asks Eddie just to put his friend among the other corpses, and from here is where the greatness of Caan's performance truly comes out. And often is the case with Caan, he's at his very best when he challenges his presence as the macho force. That's the case here, because as much as we see him as a confident soldier, what is so powerful in this scene is the way Caan subverts this as he presses the doctor to look at his friend and even points his gun at the doctor to force the issue. Caan's amazing in his delivery because we hear the wavering and just barely holding it together as makes the threat. Caan shows the "tough guy" barely keeping it together just enough and the very real heartbreak in the man's voice just as he also brings such a fierce conviction in his eyes to force the doctor to check who is friend, who is still alive despite the injury. Caan brings this real power by combining the vulnerability of the man potentially losing a friend and failing to live up to his promise, and through the strength of the soldier who will follow through on that promise to the very best of his ability. The close of the scene is as the doctor has Eddie briefly arrested for 60 seconds before being released and commenting that he believes Eddie might've been bluffing. With Caan having one more great moment in the blunt honesty of his delivery following that showing that there was never a question in Eddie's mind that he would've killed even his own army's doctor for the sake of his friend. Although a brief performance, Caan makes a striking impact that stands as the highpoint within the film. 

Harrison Ford did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Han Solo in Star Wars. 

Re-watching Star Wars, without needless frame cluttering of CGI monstrosities and weird character slides, helped to illuminate once again how much George Lucas got right in what was his rather extreme gamble. There is so much that works about it that it is baffling in a way to compare so many of the decisions he later made as a creative, including the equivalent of if Vincent Van Gogh wanted to "improve" The Starry Night by adding sharpie drawn people randomly throughout the frame, which was against this very film. One of the keys to this success is casting, even with Leia's random English accent, where Lucas found an artful combination between gravitas, and earthiness. The gravitas delivered best by Guinness who sells every concept no matter how ridiculous it could be Guinness allows you to believe in the force and the past histories alluded to, the earnestness is really everyone because if the cast didn't portray it as though the character believed in the world nor should we, but there is also that essential earthiness where Harrison Ford is the most important cast member for. This is obvious from his first scene where he comes in as the potential pilot for Luke and Obi-wan, not as the pilot for some fantastical adventure but he might as well be a pilot for a World War 2 spy thriller quite frankly. Ford's approach is casual right from the way he's leaning, seemingly barely caring about the conversation and states his role as pilot as matter of factly as possible. Ford not giving a chance to be anything other than real, allowing you to accept the world and him, with this certain level of Steve McQueenesque cool where the cool exists through his blithe "I don't give a damn". Although sometimes misinterpreted as Ford not really caring about the acting, that is incredibly unfair and really just lacking observation of seeing what Ford does here. Because in that open he has the cool, even the confidence as Luke challenges just how good it is, but there's more particularly the way his eyes glow when Obi-wan offers a substantial payment. Ford's whole delivery though is so honest to creating a believable place as he names the trick of avoiding imperials and the price as any man would, let alone a "space man". But where Ford excels is instantly setting up really the nature of Solo the moment Luke and Obi-wan leaves as suddenly he's bursting with excitement and much more open with his partner Chewbacca, revealing a bit of his humanity actually by showing that there's a guy who just wants the cash underneath the calm cool we saw with Luke. Of course that's not all as he gets cornered by Greedo and we get Ford returning to that setting with his calm as he deals with a man ready to kill him, however there's also the smile of the swindler as he attempts to explain his previous loss of cargo. When we get to the pivotal moment, that honestly hasn't been overstated, as Han kills Greedo after being only threatened by him, where he coldly walks away merely tipping the bartender for "the mess". Ford's performance in the moment is essential as he is a genuine scoundrel in the moment, a cool one mind you, but one where the killing, even in semi-self defense is something he's comfortable with. And with just that first scene we have three different types of Solo, and Ford brings it all to life while being a singular man as Han, that despite the definite hero he will become, leaves the character distinctly grey against the obviously good Luke and Obi-wan. 

Where Luke is on the well known hero's journey, Han is on the journey of the scoundrel's redemption that honestly is more dynamic in terms of the emotions, as Luke always wants to be a hero and just finds his path to be one, Han doesn't want to be a hero early on and in fact is doing everything for the money or survival. We get glimpses of this as he rides with Obi-wan and Luke, Ford playing strength in his maneuvers with the Millennium Falcon, though with just the slight flashes of hesitation even foolishness that makes Han capable with just a hint of haplessness. Ford balances beautifully because he is cool but he's also very human by in no way being perfect. The pivotal moment on the journey is perhaps the moment of Han doubting the force, because the way Ford delivers it isn't dumb ignorance, as it might've been with a worst take, there is rather this seasoned cynicism he presents as more so a protection for himself from needing to truly believe in anything. Which results in his reluctance when they end up in the Death Star, trying to find a method of escape, with Luke suggesting they rescue Princess Leia. Something that Ford again brings a lot to even in the dismissiveness, which again he makes it as human as possible in speaking of the dangers, not emphatically but rather as the easy way through life. Only being convinced by the potential reward, something Ford plays with easy humor that tiptoes on scoundrel yet still keeps him likable by making the lighting up of his eyes so very honest. And that's the first turn because within the action is where we basically get Harison Ford the star revealing himself as he joins Luke to rescue Leia. Which is that Ford isn't just one thing ever in these scenes. He is the man of action when he leads the charge in one moment or genuinely helps Luke in the fight. He also subverts that wonderfully when running away from that charge not cowardly but rather in a very relatable moment of the sudden reaction of realizing you've bitten off more than you can chew. My favorite moment in this sense being when he tries to hold off the Imperials from coming by putting on a slightly high pitched voice and hilariously in his attempt to make an excuse particularly his just perfectly misplaced "how are you?" followed by his moment of unease realizing that wasn't probably the best ruse. He also gets to be the great romantic bickering lead when they finally meet the not all that much impressed Leia. Something where Ford just picks up such natural chemistry where he runs with the comedic frustration that plays off Fisher ideally. Through the course of the action Solo in different moments takes charge, acts slightly foolish and argues, however what Ford does is create a natural investment in the moment to convince us of Solo finding some reason to care as he progresses. This is most evident as they run from the Death Star and fight off the pursuing Tie-Fighters, where Ford is completely in the moment, invested and even joyful along with Luke as they battle together. Naturally leading to some over cockiness from Solo which Ford does so well because the way he manages to play it is completely look foolish however in a way that actually makes you like Solo more even though he's being a bit of a dolt in the moment. Same goes for the following moment where he ponders if he could ever get to Leia as a self-doubting but hopeful question in Ford's delivery, which Luke immediately shuts down. Once more Ford actually allows himself to be uncool, yet by allowing that he doesn't cancel out the other cool moments, rather he just makes Solo much more endearing. Which leads to the finale of the film which in a way Ford has to do the most in terms of a character arc out of anyone in the film, even though the focal point is more so on Luke embracing the force, I'll say what goes on with Solo has become the far more emotionally impactful element of the film for me. Where the battle with the Death Star appears to be a last ditch, if potentially fatalistic effort against the Empire, Han decides to just take off because of that. The key to making this moment work is again Ford's way of describing it as a passive grasping onto the safety of the choices he's long held, with the easy sense of really the basic reality of a man who has long chosen the cynical path because it is the safter one. Ford's delivery of "May the force be with you" to Luke says it all, as his tone manages to convey Solo's self-doubt and shame about his choice, though with the shame being found in the sincerity of phrase towards Luke as someone on the edge of caring but not quite there. Contrasting that to his line to Chewbacca a moment later where his "I know what I'm doing", lacks any sincere albeit cynical conviction, it is someone who is finally wavering on such choices. These two separate but pivotal line deliveries, along with the gradual change of Solo manner throughout earning the climactic moment, and maybe the most powerful moment of the film for me now, Solo coming back in the key moment to knock Darth Vadar and his fighters off Luke, to enable Luke to make the Death Star killing shot. I love Ford's performance at the moment because this is now Han absolutely living his best life as he's caring about something, and helping his friend at the moment. The excitement he brings isn't just the joy of the moment but the joy of someone finding something to fight for as he delivers on Solo going from the scoundrel to the hero. Ford delivers a great performance, a star making performance, that also creates a truly iconic character at the same time, but is more than that. As Ford wholly earns the transition of Solo from the self-interested man to the money maker, but also just the in-scene moments from the cool hero, to the comedic fool, he makes it all easy, while also making the whole world so much more tangible. Ford doesn't play the role as a "sci-fi" role, he plays it the man of the Earth who just happens to be in a space adventure, providing the essential grounding to the series to help make it so much more than just another adventure film and into something that changed the entirety of the American cinematic landscape. 

Maximilian Schell and James Coburn did not receive Oscar nominations for portraying Hauptmann Stransky and Feldwebel Rolf Steiner respectively in Cross of Iron. 

At the center of Cross of Iron are Maximilian Schell and James Coburn representing opposing views and natures as it comes to being German soldiers on the Russian front during the later days of World War II. Schell had a banner year in 77, where he was Oscar nominated for nomination juggernaut Julia, for his brief role as a resistance member who gives some quick bits of important info to Fonda's Lillian Hellman as she goes to see her friend in occupied Germany. While not a bad performance, an extremely limited one and a testament to the laziness of the academy as that was his most "darling" film, meanwhile Schell was far greater elsewhere. Even his performance in A Bridge Too Far is superior as well giving just the right hints of sympathy as one of the least evil high ranking German officers around, but both performances pale in comparison to his work here as the new Captain to the Russian front Captain Stransky. From Schell's first scene he makes a remarkable impression as he wears this face of glee upon his brow and speaks to the other cynical German officers Colonel Brandt and Captain Kiesel (James Mason, David Warner) who are both done with the war at this point. Schell's whole manner is of a man lacking any of that experience but is a man with a mission. When asked "why" he wanted to be transferred to the front, Schell first speaks the absolute truth of the matter where his delivery is perfect as he states emphatically that he wants "an iron cross". Schell says it with delicious intention where he can almost taste the notion, and seems almost waiting for everyone else to understand his desire for this, though this is instantly subverted as the Colonel offers a few of his own to him as he degrades the notion. Schell's brilliance is in the switch in this moment because as will be the case in his performance throughout, Schell never simplifies Stransky despite being the overt villain of the piece consistently by virtue of his performance. Schell's amazing in how he shrugs off the comment, because Schell plays it almost in the peer pressure social circle of the officers as he casually denies it as a kind of joke with not the most consistent conviction while returning to his prideful manner as though he's here to bring some kind of personal greatness to the Russian front. 

Contrasting heavily with Schell's performance is James Coburn in the lead as Corporal Steiner eventually Sergeant who is the leader of a unit, on the frontlines and living the war in its purest form. Coburn's performance here is a testament to just how much accents really matter to a performance. Coburn here kind of tries the German accent at times but mostly just is doing his normal accent but this in no way diminishes what works about his performance. The first aspect being Coburn's grizzled presence which is one of the best cinematic uses of it in this film. He just has that immediate sense of the man defined by the way and just comes across with the unique power of his experience. Coburn owns the wear to an extent and in turn is just commanding as to be expected, though commanding with the sort of reluctance that naturally combines with his command that defines the character. Coburn is utilized most effectively to be the "Man's man" type character in Steiner who is constantly working hard on the battlefield but the power of this performance exists beyond that. In fact the power of his work is particularly the opposite of it, as such as early on where Steiner and Stransky first meet, where the men are coming back from a battle where they took an extremely young Russian prisoner. The scene is great work from both, as Schell states the order with a coarse conviction of expectation of a proper Nazi officer while Steiner emphatically denies the order, which Coburn delivers with a calm but powerful conviction. A great moment for Schell comes within even the cruel ordering of it as the way he brandishes the gun has this innate awkwardness to it as a man who probably hasn't fired nearly as many guns as he claims, and then just the visceral fear he portrays when a mortar goes off near him, which doesn't phase the battle hardened men, naturally emphasizes this contrasting point between the men. Now as good as Coburn is at playing the tough sergeant, the real strength of his performance is outside of that realm, even when he is with the young Russian prisoner. Coburn naturally brings this understated warmth to his performance where there is never a question that Steiner cares entirely about the safety of his men and the one thing he wants to do is ensure their survival. 

One of Schell's best scenes is within the bunker of the unit where he spots one of the officers making a homosexual gesture towards another, and even Schell's performance of spotting the act is absolutely incredible. There is this predatory smile that appears on his face but also sudden potent intrigue to something he can make use of while maybe subtextually indicating something about Stransky himself. The following interrogation one has to think Tarantino and maybe as well Christoph Waltz might've taken into consideration when constructing the character of Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds. Schell brings this same playing with tension not through overt menace but rather through playfulness. In this instance asking the two men about their knowledge of Southern France as some location for homosexual behavior. Asking with this jovial incisiveness as Schell asks as though Stransky himself is interested in a world without women as he interrogates the men, and maybe he is, but further Schell makes Stransky's methods imposing through the charismatic ease of his approach. The approach that in no way causes him to be any less menacing. As the unpredictability of it both creates menace and makes Schell absolutely fascinating to watch. Particularly as he jumps on one of the men's "agreement" with this maniacal nearly insane jubilation that he repeats and repeats each that Schell delivers with this increase of the tension, before cutting it through it with the direct and completely vicious declaration that the men would be killed for such behavior were he to become aware of it. The moment that again seems very much alike the opening scene of Basterds where Waltz executes a similar sudden switch so well realized. 

The real power of Coburn's performance as Steiner is consistently the humanity of his performance despite in simple terms, and also in terms of his natural presence, that of the military "badass". But that's not the defining factor of the performance even if it is what makes Coburn's work special, because it is the vulnerability that he brings to the role. The vulnerability isn't something that Coburn gives away easily but yet still does he feel so generous in his performance. Quite the trick to pull off but one that Coburn does with ease here. Because Coburn isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve yet never is it in doubt which doesn't seem like it should make sense but Coburn rides the line in the ideal way. We see this in an pivotal moment where Steiner lets the Russian soldier go with this quiet encouragement that seems so much more encouraging by the hard Coburn bringing this sincere gentle moment of fatherly warmth to the boy. Something that makes the moment where the poor boy gets gunned down by his own side in cross fire almost instantly play directly into Coburn's eyes in his reaction. His reaction is tremendous because the horror is internalized by Coburn in a way that while he is still most certainly pained and shocked but there is almost this glint of expectation of the moment as though he's used to it, it doesn't make it truly any less painful for him. The moment leading to an attack and a severe head injury that leaves Steiner with his brief respite in hospital. Although I would probably say these scenes are the weakest in the film, though not bad, they do reveal the constricted state of Steiner importantly as a man completely lost in the hospital, in part due to his injury, but due to being away from his men he can protect. He is not the badass in these scenes, he's just an injured man and Coburn doesn't hide presenting the quality of being wholly lost. He lets his presence lessen from the expectation and presents again an unexpected yet potent vulnerability. This makes the moment where Steiner quickly jumps at the chance to go to the front line completely believable as for better and more likely worse, the Russian front is Steiner's home. Something we see bluntly in a later moment where one of his men is going through ptsd, and the "man's man" Coburn brings such nuanced vulnerability and empathy as he says with such warmth that the man will never be alone again. It is a truly poignant, if ont beautiful moment, that is tremendous because Coburn genuinely reveals this unexpected side of himself of an actor that makes the moment that much more potent. 

The film's central conflict ends up between Stransky and Steiner though not in exactly the way you might expect. As Steiner is actually given a chance to get rid of Stransky by Brandt and Keisel early as they offer him the ability to refute Stransky's claims of heroism, to get his iron cross, and have Stransky punished. Steiner though refuses stating emphatically and even dismissively in Coburn's delivery that their conflict is a "personal matter". When Brandt and Keisel question this decision Steiner reprimands both them in a remarkable bit of performance where Coburn unleashes just a hint of the rage in Steiner as he speaks every word with such venom, noting that while the two officers are more enlightened than most they still represent the horrible regime he's stuck in. Coburn brings this specific passion, that is very much a 70's rebel moment, but stronger than many because of the intense reality of Coburn's performance and of course the fact that Steiner's words are so pointedly true. Back at the bunker near the front Stransky is very much the same though Steiner does confront him on the "why" regarding his ambition for the Iron Cross, presenting his own as a meaningless bit of metal. Schell's amazing in this moment because again he subverts the expectation of the moment however in a way that illuminates more to the "why" of Stransky even though he doesn't at all eliminate his villainy. Schell's delivery is frankly humble and even vulnerable as the Stransky from a Prussian aristocrat family admits he couldn't return home in such shame without such a medal. Schell doesn't suddenly make you care about Stransky but he potentially makes you see a greater depth to the man even if it is technically only further illustrating a flaw. 

The conflict comes to a head as the Russians make an advance which despite getting orders to the contrary Stransky does not inform Steiner of the strategic retreat. A great moment again for Schell in for a moment you see the pettiness but still a loyal soldier as Schell brings so much begrudgement as he indicates to inform Steiner, only to contrast that as he rips out the phone which Schell plays perfectly as this instinctual pettiness. Leaving Steiner on the front line with his men trying to find a way through the Russian army to get back to safety with his men intact. Which again here Coburn brings so much of that ease as you see the man of specific action at every point, I especially think he excels in the sequence where they find a group of Russian military women, where Steiner keeps focus to the point of admonishing his men for any inappropriate behavior playing his character's blunt morality as direct and just without exception. Steiner using his cunning to make it back to the German line only for his own army to shoot at his men, based on a suggested order of Stransky to another officer, a moment again that is just delightfully diabolical in the way Schell shows every bit of the intelligence of Stransky not for heroism but for duplicity as he comes up with an excuse that Schell reasons out with the right combo of logic and delicious deceit. The shooting leads to a massacre of much of his unit to which the officer says it was all Stransky and not his fault, and you have the greatest moment in Coburn's performance. Where we return to that same sense of when the poor young Russian died, where you see him haunted by the notion of the loss, maddened by it as just the senseless however as the moment continues we see a ferocity growing a ferocity that isn't of pure rage, though it is that to, but true unrelenting heartbreak as we see the loss of each man in Coburn's eyes, until he unleashes his wrath on the officer. Steiner afterwards continues his advance to find Stransky just as the Russians are advancing, and it is a fantastic scene between both men. Coburn brings this disgust but almost mixed with a tempering strange pity as instead of killing him he will instead take him to the fighting to finally get his cross. Coburn tells him where the "Iron Crosses grow" as a fool's challenge to the fool. Again Schell who is so perfectly smug in the moment if considering killing Steiner, but then allowing the challenge. Something that Schell conveys all in just his face going from one potential idea, to then allowing himself to prove himself as a soldier to Steiner Schell's face filling with unearned bravado of a man who will absolutely fight for his Iron Cross. Leading to the film's finale, which honestly works because of Schell and Coburn selling its final message even in abruptness. As we get to a point where Stransky has run out of ammo and doesn't know how to reload revealing just the non-soldier he's been the whole time. Schell is the perfect incompetent suddenly in every bit of fear and honestly as a buffoon as he handles the gun like he's never held one and even is juggling around his helmet like a total dolt. A moment that perfectly summarizes Stansky in the moment, which is contrasted perfectly by Steiner/Coburn's reaction of just bursting out laughing, his laugh being a pure moment of absolute joy at seeing just how incompetent his opponent has been and to see him barely able to even stand properly. A laugh though that goes beyond that as Coburn's laugh is a laugh at the entire hypocritical world he's existed in as a proper capper as man seeing the nonsense of it all for what it is. 

Updated Overall

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