Continued from Part One…
My Top Ten
Ben Affleck–Who knew that the star of Gigli and Michael Bay stinkers like Armageddon and Pearl Harbor was actually chompin’ at the bit to tell his own stories? Yet the Oscar-winning screen-writer of Good Will Hunting finally rekindled his talents penning two films and directing three, with his latest, Argo, becoming a sure-fire Oscar contender and cementing him as a true auteur. At 40, Affleck is just one more film away from wiping the slate clean of Jersey Girl, Surviving Christmas, Daredevil, Bounce and Forces of Nature. It reminds me of his cameo from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, where Affleck posited his Hollywood pact: Do one commercial and one artsy film. Somehow, his Argo became successful at both. And he also can deliver a strong performance, as he finally proved in 2006’s Hollywoodland.
Warren Beatty–We may never learn if the rumor was true in which Beatty kissed the shoes of Jack Warner in order to get Bonnie and Clyde greenlit. But we do know that in 1967 heartthrobs like Beatty were NOT producers. Yet, Beatty broke the mold and became a protagonist for some interesting, even daring films, including his directorial outing with 1981’s Reds. The gamble lead to moderate returns, which is still striking for a three hour epic about the famed Communist journalist, John Reed. Beatty walked away with an Oscar for his directorial troubles. Beatty wouldn’t direct another film until 1990’s Dick Tracy. During that lapse, Beatty remained selective in his starring roles, which lead to some turkeys like the colossal disasters Ishtar and Town and Country. But Beatty’s work in the 1970s opened doors to many idols; forever tearing down the barriers that prohibited leads from being pioneers behind the camera.
Robert Redford–Not to be outdone, Redford, like Beatty, would win his only Oscar for directing (only a year earlier for 1980’s Ordinary People). Perhaps his biggest artistic mark remains the Sundance Film Festival (ironically named after the Hollywood mega-blockbuster that carried Redford into a household name). The festival celebrates 30 years of continuing to promote small, independent film-making, even if its lost some of its luster and purity. Redford remains steadfast in his resolve for story-telling, continuing to bounce between the Hollywood safe zones (Spy Game, The Last Castle) and chasing more daring fares (Lions for Lambs, Quiz Show).
It was 1997. Mystery Science Theater 3000 ran a half hour special that reviewed snippets of current summer blockbusters. The main course was a lovely bit of comical berating on Batman and Robin which included with a fight between love-hungry Pearl Forrester (ahem…I mean Mrs. George Clooney) and Tom Servo, who saw the ER star as a “wooden, talentless hack”. Who could disagree? Now, Clooney, who would the first to bemoan his Batman fiasco, has taken his capital from a trio of Daniel Oceans and one Perfect Storm and sealed an unsigned contract which has allowed him to tackle risky endeavors like The Good German, Solaris and Syrianna. The latter won him an acting award at the Oscars. Clooney also has taken to directorial duties, including the now-dufunct WB Independent-produced Good Night and Good Luck and the recent Ides of March. I’m not convinced that Clooney has the chops to be a true original, but his acting continues to move beyond the confident, aw-shucks persona that made him a star. If you don’t believe me, try to find it within the confines of his sad, middle-age lawyer in The Descendants. You won’t find it.
Brad Pitt–It was inevitable a man born of perfection would gain the attention of ladies and their jealous mates. But it’s hard to hate Pitt in 1995 after steam-rolling over Hollywood with fine work in David Fincher’s Se7en and an Oscar-nominated demented turn in Terry Gilliam’s Twelve Monkeys. Since then, Pitt has toggled between the safe and the daring, but has recently migrated into films outside his normal jurisdiction including Inglorious Basterds, Tree of Life and Moneyball. Pitt continues to thrive in leading parts even as he nears the startling age of 50. Yet, the women swoon, Pitt continues to make box office residuals while flexing his acting chops. He also possesses the rare gift to make us chuckle and grimace simultaneously (as displayed in Fight Club). A far cry from Gena Davis’s cowboy seducer from 20 years earlier.
Leonardo DiCaprio–Oh Leo. Leo, Leo, Leo. This may be the hardest for me. After 1997’s Titanic, I was quick to chastise every teenage girl who would listen. Now, I see the light at the end of the Atlantic Ocean. When Rose let Leo plummet to the depths of the sea (Jack sure sunk like a stone, didn’t he?), Leo became a star with a blank check. But DiCaprio aligned himself with the likes of Christopher Nolan, Steven Spielberg and even demoted DeNiro from Martin Scorsese’s speed-dial. Leo’s pairing with Marty has allowed him to showcase a new layer with his Howard Hughes in The Aviator. Now Leo has shed the pretty boy status to become a tough-guy who could easily fit the roles once held by Bogart and Cagney. Quite a feat for a boy who ruled every junior high cheerleader’s bedroom walls a decade earlier. I now ask forgiveness for all the “DiCraprio” puns.
“Paul Newman is a handsome boy, but quite stiff, to my disappointment,” said Fred Zinneman. Lee Strasberg said that Newman could have been as great as Brando, but depended on his good looks to coast through Hollywood. They may have been right. Newman never donned make-up to veil his perfect features. But Newman was a true showman, allowing layers of complex characters to bleed through those baby blues. His whirlwind of talents was never so evident as in The Hustler, where Newman’s good looks never interfered with the torment lurking within the confines of a seemingly perfect exterior. In middle-age, Newman donned the gray hairs like a bottle of wine, but continued making an impact. In total, Newman garnered ten Oscar nominations that stretched from youth up to his twilight years, where he embodied the roles of father and grandfather seamlessly. Yes, Newman made his share of garbage Yes, he chased money (Towering Inferno, When Time Ran Out…). But Newman capitalized on each for the better good; ingraining his imagery on numerous food products that made almost a billion dollars for charitable organizations. As an artist, Newman directed and starred in dozen of films that he could only have earned from a life of great talent–not looks.
Heath Ledger–I imagine if Heath were alive, he would have shyly–even nervously–accepted his Oscar for his startling transformation into the nefarious Joker from The Dark Knight and disappeared behind the curtain, only to emerge in another role which further disguised Heath’s poster-child posterior. Watching Heath in earlier works like Knights Tale and The Patriot, you could easily assume that he was a few knocks away from daytime soap operas. But, in reality, Heath was merely biding his time, finding the confidence (and clout) to take risks that included deep tent humping with Jake Gyllenhaal and scaring the shit out of Jake’s sister in Dark Knight. Comparing these two roles is like mixing oil and vinegar. Even enthusiasts over Ledger’s casting in the Batman sequel could not have guessed the level of impact his villainy would have in filmdom. Like James Dean, there was a great actor who shed a pretty boy image and left an indelible impact in just a short span.
John Cassavettes–It’s evident that John was never ever going to chase beach girls in the 1960s free-love climate. His interest was in method acting and creating films about subjects that were off-limits, including marital infidelities, racial injustice, alcoholism, abuse, mental breakdowns, you name it. Cassavettes maintained Hollywood interests only to raise money for his pet projects. He was a talented actor, but today he’s known for his contribution in other avenues. As a result, he became one of the pioneers of the independent circuit. His films remain timeless with their rawness, their realism, their uncompromising vision. Despite being a dead-ringer for Martin Landau, Cassavettes will only ring a bell to younger crowds, who may know his son as the director of the seemingly conventional tear-jerker, The Notebook. Which leads me to…
Ryan Gosling–If I had a man-crush, it would be for this man. It was earned when I first saw Drive and learned of the Gosling’s infinite power to tear up the screen with nary a word. His unflinching stares said paragraphs of dialog. That same year, Gosling paired with Clooney in a lesser film, The Ides of March, which was still a commendable performance in a very different light. In fact, Gosling could easily have received an award for either and I would have been okay with it. Instead, Gosling, who is only eight days my junior (fucker!), juggles between every genre you can imagine. Since oohing Nicholas Sparks’ fans in The Notebook, Gosling has become a funny, dweeb infatuated with a sex doll (you read that correctly), will shoot up gangsta-style in next year’s star-spangled Gangster Squad and is sequestered behind a series of locked doors on the next Terrance Malick project. Something tells me I will like it a lot more than the millions of female Notebook fans. Something tells me a Oscar is already being printed for him.
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