The Unnominated #10: The Long Goodbye (dir by Robert Altman)

Posted on February 20, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences claim that the Oscars honor the best of the year, we all know that there are always worthy films and performances that end up getting overlooked. Sometimes, it’s because the competition too fierce. Sometimes, it’s because the film itself was too controversial. Often, it’s just a case of a film’s quality not being fully recognized until years after its initial released. This series of reviews takes a look at the films and performances that should have been nominated but were, for whatever reason, overlooked. These are the Unnominated.

Elliott Gould is Phillip Marlowe!

If I had to pick one sentence to describe the plot of 1973’s The Long Goodbye, that would be it. Robert Altman’s adaptation of the Raymond Chandler detective novel loosely follows Chandler’s original plot, though Altman did definitely make a few important changes. Altman moved the story from the 50s to the then-modern 70s, replacing Chandler’s hard-boiled Los Angeles with a satirical portrait of a self-obsessed California, populated by gurus and hippies. And Altman did change the ending of the book, taking what one could argue is a firmer stand than Chandler did in the novel. In the end, though, the film really is about the idea of Chandler’s tough detective being reimagined as Elliott Gould.

Rumpled, mumbling, and with a permanent five o’clock shadow, Gould plays Marlowe as being an outsider. He lives in a shabby apartment. His only companion is a cat who randomly abandons him (as cats tend to do). With his wardrobe that seems to consist of only one dark suit, Marlowe seems out-of-place in the California of the 70s. When Marlowe’s friend, Terry Lennox (Jim Bouton), asks Marlowe to drive him to Mexico, one gets the feeling that Lennox isn’t just asking because Marlowe’s a friend. He’s asking because he suspects Marlowe would never be a good enough detective to figure out what he’s actually doing.

After Terry’s wife is murdered, Marlowe is informed that 1) Terry has committed suicide and 2) Marlowe is now a suspect. Convinced that Terry would have never killed himself, Marlowe investigates on his own. He meets Marty Augustine (Mark Rydell), a gangster who demands that Marlowe recover some money that he claims Terry stole. Marty seems like an almost reasonable criminal until he smashes a coke bottle across his girlfriend’s face. (One of Marty’s bodyguards is played by a silent Arnold Schwarzenegger.) Meanwhile, Terry’s neighbors include an alcoholic writer named Roger Wade (Sterling Hayden) and his wife, Eileen (Nina van Pallandt). Like Marlowe, Roger is a man out-of-time, a Hemingwayesque writer who has found himself in a world that he is not capable of understanding. Henry Gibson, who would later memorably play Haven Hamilton in Altman’s Nashville, appears as Wade’s “doctor.”

Marlowe, with his shabby suits and a cigarette perpetually dangling from his mouth, gets next to no respect throughout the film. No one takes him seriously but Marlowe proves himself to be far more clever than anyone realizes. Elliott Gould gives one of his best performances as Marlowe, playing him as a man whose befuddled exterior hides a clear sense of right and wrong. Gould convinces us that Marlowe is a man who can solve the most complex of mysteries, even if he can’t figure out where his cat goes to in the middle of the night. His code makes him a hero but it also makes him an outsider in what was then the modern world. The film asks if there’s still a place for a man like Phillip Marlowe in a changing world and it leaves it to us to determine the answer.

Frequently funny but ultimately very serious, The Long Goodbye is one of the best detective films ever made. Just as Altman did with McCabe & Mrs. Miller, he uses the past to comment on what was then the present. And, just as with McCabe & Mrs. Miller, The Long Goodbye is a film that was initially released to mixed reviews, though it would later be acclaimed by future viewers and critics. Whereas McCabe & Mrs. Miller received an Oscar nomination for Julie Christie’s performance as Mrs. Miller, The Long Goodbye was thoroughly snubbed by the Academy. Altman, Gould, Hayden, and the film itself were all worthy of consideration but none received a nomination. Instead, that year, the Oscar for Best Picture went to The Sting, a far less cynical homage to the crime films of the past.

The Long Goodbye (1973, directed by Robert Altman)

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The Unnominated: Mean Streets (dir by Martin Scorsese)

Posted on January 1, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Honorable men go with honorable men.” — Giovanni Cappa

1973’s Mean Streets is a story about Little Italy. The neighborhood may only be a small part of the sprawling metropolis of New York but, as portrayed in this film, it’s a unique society of its very own, with its own laws and traditions. It’s a place where the old ways uneasily mix with the new world. The neighborhood is governed by old-fashioned mafiosos like Giovanni Cappa (Cesare Danova), who provide “protection” in return for payment. The streets are full of men who are all looking to prove themselves, often in the most pointlessly violent way possible. When a drunk (David Carradine) is shot in the back by a teenage assassin (Robert Carradine), no one bothers to call the police or even questions why the shooting happened. Instead, they discuss how impressed they were with the drunk’s refusal to quickly go down. When a soldier (Harry Northup) is given a party to welcome him home from Vietnam, no one is particularly shocked when the solider turns violent. Violence is a part of everyday life.

Charlie Cappa (Harvey Keitel) is Giovanni’s nephew, a 27 year-old man who still lives at home with his mother and who still feels guilty for having “impure” thoughts. Charlie prays in church and then goes to work as a collector for Giovanni. Giovanni is grooming Charlie to take over a restaurant, not because Charlie is particularly talented at business but just because Charlie is family. Giovanni warns Charlie not to get involved with Teresa (Amy Robinson) because Teresa has epilepsy and is viewed as being cursed. And Giovanni particularly warns Charlie not to hang out with Teresa’s cousin, Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro). Johnny Boy may be charismatic but everyone in the neighborhood knows that he’s out-of-control. His idea of a good time is to blow up mailboxes and shoot out street lamps. Charlie, who is so obsessed with sin and absolution that he regularly holds his hand over an open flame to experience the Hellfire that awaits the unrepentant sinner, finds himself falling in love with Teresa (though it’s debatable whether Charlie truly understands what love is) and trying to save Johnny Boy.

Charlie has other friends as well. Tony (David Proval) runs the bar where everyone likes to hang out and he seems to be the most stable of the characters in Mean Streets. He’s at peace with both the neighborhood and his place in it. Meanwhile, Michael (Robert Romanus) is a loan shark who no one seems to have much respect for, though they’re still willing to spend the afternoon watching a Kung Fu movie with him. Michael knows that his career is dependent on intimidation. He can’t let anyone get away with not paying back their money, even if they are a friend. Johnny Boy owes Michael a lot of money and he hasn’t paid back a single dollar. Johnny Boy always has an excuse for why he can’t pay back Michael but it’s obvious that he just doesn’t want to. Charlie realizes that it’s not safe for Johnny Boy in Little Italy but where else can he go? Brooklyn?

Mean Streets follows Charlie and his friends as they go about their daily lives, laughing, arguing, and often fighting. All of the characters in Mean Streets enjoy a good brawl, despite the fact that none of them are as tough as their heroes. A chaotic fight in a pool hall starts after someone takes offense to the word “mook,” despite the fact that no one can precisely define what a mook is. The fights goes on for several minutes before the police show up to end it and accept a bribe. After the cops leave, the fight starts up again. What’s interesting is that the people fighting don’t really seem to be that angry with each other. Fighting is simply a part of everyday life. Everyone is aggressive. To not fight is to be seen as being weak and no one is willing to risk that.

Mean Streets was Martin Scorsese’s third film (fourth, if you count the scenes he shot before being fired from The Honeymoon Killers) but it’s the first of his movies to feel like a real Scorsese film. Scorsese’s first film, Who’s That Knocking On My Door?, has its moments and feels like a dry run for Mean Streets but it’s still obviously an expanded student film. Boxcar Bertha was a film that Scorsese made for Roger Corman and it’s a film that could have just as easily been directed by Jonathan Demme or any of the other young directors who got their start with Corman. But Mean Streets is clearly a Scorsese film, both thematically and cinematically. Scorsese’s camera moves from scene to scene with an urgent confidence and the scene where Charlie first enters Tony’s bar immediately brings to mind the classic tracking shots from Goodfellas, Taxi Driver, and Casino. One gets the feeling that Pete The Killer is lurking somewhere in the background. The scenes between Keitel and De Niro are riveting. Charlie attempts to keep his friend from further antagonizing Michael while Johnny Boy tells stories that are so long and complicated that he himself can’t keep up with all the details. Charlie hold everything back while Johnny Boy always seems to be on the verge of exploding. De Niro’s performance as Johnny Boy is one that has been duplicated but never quite matched by countless actors since then. He’s the original self-destructive fool, funny, charismatic, and ultimately terrifying with his self-destructive energy.

Mean Streets was Scorsese’s first box office success and it was also the film that first brought him widespread critical acclaim. However, in a year when the totally forgotten A Touch of Class was nominated for Best Picture, Mean Streets did not receive a single Oscar nomination, not even for De Niro’s performance. Fortunately, by the time Mean Streets was released, De Niro had already started work on another film about the Mafia and Little Italy, The Godfather Part II.

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The Unnominated: The Long Riders (Dir by Walter Hill)

Posted on March 10, 2024 by Lisa Marie Bowman

First released in 1980, The Long Riders is one of the many films to tell the story of the James/Younger Gang.

A group of former Confederate guerillas who became some of the most notorious bank robbers to roam post-Civil War America and who were based in Missouri, the brothers who made up the James/Younger Gang were hunted by the Pinkertons and beloved by the citizens who viewed them as being 19th Century Robin Hoods. Following a disastrous attempt to rob a bank in Northfield, Minnesota, the Younger brothers were captured by the government while Jesse and Frank James made it back to Missouri. Jesse was shot in the back by Bob Ford while Frank subsequently surrendered to authorities and made a good living on the lecture circuit.

The Long Riders tells the story of the gang, from their first encounter with the heavy-handed Pinkertons to the Northfield raid to Frank’s eventual surrender. Director Walter Hill both celebrates the legend of the James/Younger Gang while also emphasizing that all the members of the gang were also individual humans who had their strengths and their flaws. Hill emphasizes the idea of the gang being a group of post-war rebels, still fighting a war against a government that is more interested in protecting banks than looking after people. The Long Riders deconstructs the legend while also celebrating it.

The main thing that sets The Long Riders apart from other films about the James/Younger Gang is the fact that the brothers are played by actual brothers. David, Keith, and Robert Carradine plays the Youngers. Randy Quaid plays Clell Miller while Dennis Quaid assumes the role of the cowardly Ed Miller. Nicholas and Christopher Guest make a memorably creepy impression as Charley and Bob Ford. And finally, Jesse and Frank James are played by James and Stacy Keach. (The Keaches also worked on the film’s script). And while Stacy is definitely the more charismatic of the Keach brothers, the film makes good use of James’s rather stoic screen presence. While the rest of the gang enjoys the outlaw life, James Keach’s Jesse is rigid, serious, and ultimately too stubborn and obsessive for his own good.

Now, the casting might sound like a gimmick but it works wonderfully. When Clell chooses the gang over Ed, it carries an emotional weight because we’re watching real brothers reject each other. The comradery between the Carradines carries over to the comradery between the Youngers and it also informs their occasional rivalry with the better known James brothers. While it is Stacy Keach and David Carradine who ultimately dominate the film, every brother in the cast makes a strong impression. Also giving a memorable performance is Pamela Reed as a defiantly independent Belle Starr, who loves David Carradine’s Cole Younger but marries Sam Starr (James Remar). The knife fight between Carradine and Remar is one of the film’s highlights, as is the violent and disastrous attempt to rob the bank in Northfield.

The Long Riders is an exciting and ultimately poignant western but sadly, it received not a single Oscar nomination, not even for the stunning cinematography or Ry Cooder’s elegiac score. Fortunately, just like the legend of the James/Younger Gang, The Long Riders lives on.

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The Unnominated: Office Space (dir by Mike Judge)

Posted on September 4, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The other night, Erin and I started a new Labor Day weekend tradition of watching the 1999 comedy, Office Space.

As we watched Mike Judge’s first live-action film, it occurred to me that Office Space is a film that unites all of my friends. It doesn’t matter whether they work in an office like Peter (Ron Livingston), Samir (Ajay Naidu), or Michael Bolton (David Herman) or if they work in a restaurant like Joanna (Jennifer Aniston) or even if they’re an independent contractor like Peter’s loud neighbor, Lawrence (Diedrich Bader). It doesn’t matter if they would rather be fishing like Peter or watching reruns of Kung Fu like Joanna. Everyone that I know has said that they can relate to Office Space. Everyone has had to deal with a passive-aggressive jerk of a boss like Bill Lumbergh (Gary Cole). Everyone has known a crazy co-worker like the red stapler-obsessed Milton (Stephen Root). Everyone dreads the arrival of consultants like the Bobs (John C. McGinely and Paul Willson). Everyone resents being told that doing the bare minimum is not enough, whether it’s just sitting in your cubicle or wearing 15 pieces of flair. Everyone dreams of sleeping late and not stressing about TPS reports. Everyone dreams of screwing over their company in a way that’s so clever that they’ll never be caught. (And I think everyone secretly knows that they would screw it up by putting a decimal point in the wrong place.) Everyone wants to destroy the oldest and least reliable piece of equipment at work. Everyone wants to feel like they can just announce that they’re going to quit and spend the rest of their life doing what they would do if they had a million dollars.

Considering the fact that the film has now become universally beloved, it’s interesting that Office Space opened to mixed reviews and middling box office. The studio wasn’t sure how to sell a live action film from the director of Beavis and Butt-Head and King of the Hill and many critics focused on the film’s rather loosely-constructed, episodic narrative and overlooked the fact that the film captured all of the small details that drive people crazy about their work. Audiences, though, discovered the film on video and undoubtedly enjoyed watching it after a long day of dealing with their own annoying boss. The film’s star, Ron Livingston, has said that many people have approached him and told him that he inspired them quit their jobs. “That’s kind of a heavy-load to carry.”

For a film that centers around office workers updating data so that computer systems don’t cash in 2000, Office Space has aged remarkably well. Ron Livingston, David Herman, and Ajay Naidu are an instantly sympathetic and likable trio of nerdy heroes. Stephen Root’s panic as he realizes that he will be the only employee not to get a piece of cake remains both poignant and funny. Gary Cole is still the boss from Hell. I still laugh at John C. McGinley’s rage when his praise of Peter as a “straight-shooter with upper management potential” is dismissed by Peter’s boss. We can all relate to Jennifer Aniston’s dislike of flair and her hatred for Brian (Todd Duffey). The jump to conclusion mat would probably be even more popular today than back in 1999.

Of course, Office Space was not nominated for any Oscars. That’s not really a shock. It’s an episodic comedy that was directed by a Texas filmmaker who was, at the time, best-known for a cartoon about two brain-dead teenagers. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be nominated for anything, even though I think more people have probably watched Office Space over the past few days than have watched American Beauty. Oscars aren’t everything, though. Office Space remains both a great work film and a great Texas film.

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The Unnominated: Saint Jack (Dir by Peter Bogdanovich)

Posted on July 30, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In 1979’s Saint Jack, Ben Gazzara stars as Jack Flowers. Jack was born in Brooklyn in 1931, a first-generation Italian-American. Though Jack himself prefers to keep his past something of a mystery, it’s implied that his family had less-than-savory “connections.” Jack served in the Korean War. After the war, he served in the Merchant Marine and spent a while trying to pursue a career as a writer. Now, in the early 1970s, Jack lives in Singapore.

What does Jack do in Singapore? He seems to know everyone and everyone seems to like him, with the exception of a few members of a Chinese triad who view Jack as being their competition. Jack is friendly and he knows how to talk to people. With the Vietnam War waging, Singapore is full of American soldiers on R&R and Jack is always willing to help set them up with companionship during their stay. He does the same thing for the businessmen who stop off on the island. At the same time, if someone just wants to play a game of squash, Jack can direct them to nearest health club. Whatever someone needs, Jack know how to get it.

This episodic film is largely a character study, following Jack over three eventful years of his life. We learn a lot about Jack just from watching his interactions with his friend William (Denholm Elliott), an alcoholic accountant who visits Singapore once a year and who is one of the few people with whom Jack is comfortable just being himself around. For all of his friendliness and good humor, Jack never quite lets anyone get too close to discovering who he really is. In many ways, Jack feels trapped in Singapore. He’s getting older and the world around him is changing and becoming less safe. Jack’s true goal is to open his own brothel, make a fortune, and eventually return to Brooklyn a rich man. At times, with the help of the CIA and a shady businessman (played by the film’s director, Peter Bogdanovich), it appears that Jack is going to do just that. But when his business associates put pressure on Jack to help them blackmail a gay U.S. Senator (played by George Lazenby, of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service fame), Jack is forced to finally decide how far he’s willing to go to achieve his dream.

The film works best as a showcase for Ben Gazzara, the character actor who may be best remembered for his over-the-top villainous turn in Roadhouse but who also gave excellent performances in films that rarely got the appreciation that they deserved. Starting his career as the accused killer in Anatomy of a Murder, Ben Gazzara brought his trademark intensity to several independent and mainstream films. He was a favorite of John Cassavetes. Over the course of his long career, Gazzara was never nominated for a single Oscar, though he certainly deserved to be nominated for one here. I would rate his work in Saint Jack as being superior to the performance that won that year’s Oscar, Dustin Hoffman’s rather self-satisfied turn in Kramer vs. Kramer. From the minute that Gazzara appears onscreen, he simply is Jack. The film was shot on location in Singapore and Gazzara walks through the streets with the an appealing confidence. As Jack, he’s a likable raconteur but, in the film’s quieter moments, Gazzara allows us to see just how alone Jack actually is. Jack may know every corner of Singapore but he also knows that it will never truly be where he belongs. There’s a particular poignance to Gazzara’s scenes with Denholm Elliott. Jack and Bill are two very different men but they share a desire to return to their homes.

Saint Jack should have been a comeback for Peter Bogdanovich, the film critic-turned-director who got off to a strong start with Targets and The Last Picture Show but whose career floundered as the 70s moved on. Following the Oscar-nominated Last Picture Show and Paper Moon, Bogdanovich directed three big budget films — Daisy Miller, At Long Last Love, and Nickelodeon — that all failed at the box office. Finding himself a sudden pariah in Hollywood, Bogdanovich returned to his low-budget roots with Saint Jack, getting funding from Roger Corman and directing the film in a gritty, cinéma vérité-style. Roger Ebert loved the film, declaring that it proved that Bogdanovich was still a director worthy of appreciation. Unfortunately, the film was never widely distributed and it proved to be another box office disappointment for Bogdanovich. Sadly, the film was also ignored by the Academy, despite award-worthy performances from both Gazzara and Elliott.

Bogdanovich, who was born 84 years ago on this date, would often be cited as a cautionary tale for other directors who peaked early and spent the rest of their career on a downward slope. That’s not quite fair to Bogdanovich, who did continue to direct good films like Saint Jack, Mask, and The Cat’s Meow. Before he passed away in 2022, Bogdanovich found new popularity as both a character actor and as a frequent guest on TCM. And, fortunately, his films have come to be better appreciated with age. Saint Jack may not have gotten the attention it deserved in 1979 but it has since been rediscovered and rightfully acclaimed.

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The Unnominated: Johnny Got His Gun (dir by Dalton Trumbo)

Posted on August 3, 2022 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1971 anti-war film, Johnny Got His Gun, tells the story of Joe Bonham (played by Timothy Bottoms). When America enters World War I, Joe enlists in the Army. He leaves behind his small-town life. He leaves behind his patriotic father (Jason Robards) and his loving girlfriend (Kathy Fields). As he leaves, everyone tells him that he is doing the right thing to protect democracy. Joe’s a hero!

Joe expects war to be a glorious affair, one that will make a true man out of him. Instead, he’s hit by an artillery shell while huddled in a muddy trench. Though he survives the explosion, he loses his arms and his legs. He loses his face. He’s taken to a field hospital, where the doctors say that, though he’s alive, he’s incapable of feeling or thinking. He’s left alone in a room and is occasionally checked on by a sympathetic nurse (Diane Varsi).

The doctors are wrong. Joe can think. Even if he can’t see where he is now, he can still remember the life that he once had and the events that led him to the hospital. The film switches back and forth, from the black-and-white imagery of the hospital to the vivid color of Joe’s memories and fantasies. In his mind, Joe remembers his father, who encouraged him to go to war and perhaps was not the all-knowing figure that Joe originally assumed him to be. (The film makes good use of Jason Robards’s natural gravitas. Like Joe, the viewer initially assumes that Robards is correct about everything.) Joe also imagines several conversations with Jesus (a stoned-looking Donald Sutherland), who turns out to be surprisingly mellow and not always particularly helpful. Jesus suggest that Joe may just be naturally unlucky and he also suggests that Joe perhaps keep his distance from him because, sometimes, bad luck can rub off. Joe, meanwhile, wonders if he could be used as a traveling exhibit to portray the futility of war. When Joe finally realizes that a nurse has been checking on him, he tries to figure out a way to send a message to both her and the military that is keeping him alive in his captive state. S.O.S. …. help me….

Johnny Got His Gun is based on a novel by Dalton Trumbo. The novel was first published in 1939, at a time when the debate over whether the the U.S. should get involved in another war in Europe was running high. At the time, Trumbo was a Stalinist who opposed getting involved because Germany and Russia had signed a non-aggression pact. After the Germans invaded Russia in 1941, Trumbo and his publishers suspended reprinting of the book until the war was over with. Needless to say, this was all brought up in the 50s, when Trumbo was one of the more prominent writers to be blacklisted during the Red Scare. On the one hand, Dalton Trumbo does sound like he was more than a bit of a useful idiot for the Stalinists. On the other hand, if you’re going to suspend the printing of your anti-war polemic, it should definitely be because you want to help defeat the Nazis. In the end, what really matters is that Johnny Got His Gun is an undeniably well-written and effective book, one that works because it eschews the vapid sloganeering that one finds in so many works of left-wing literature and instead focuses on the emotions and thoughts of one human being.

The book was later rediscovered by the anti-war protestors of the 60s, which led to Dalton Trumbo directing a film adaptation. The film is a bit uneven. Dalton Trumbo was 65 years old when he directed the film and there are a few moments, especially in the scenes with Sutherland as Jesus, where he seems like he’s trying a bit too hard to duplicate the younger directors who were a part of the anti-war moment. However, the scenes in the military hospital are undeniably moving. The hospital scenes are shot in a noirish black-and-white and they effectively capture the stark horror of Joe’s situation. Left alone in his dark and shadowy room, Joe becomes the perfect symbol for all the war-related horrors that people choose to ignore. He becomes the embodiment of what war does to those who are scarred, both physically and mentally, by it. The scenes where Diane Varsi realizes that Joe is aware of what’s happened to him and that he can still feel are powerful and emotional. In fact, they work so well that it’s hard not to wish that the film could have done away with the fantasies and the flashbacks, despite the fact that Timothy Bottoms gives an appealing performance as the young and idealistic Joe.

Johnny Got His Gun didn’t receive any Oscar nominations. Should it have? The 1971 Best Picture line-up was a strong one, with the exception of Nicholas and Alexandra. Johnny Got His Gun was definitely superior to Nicholas and Alexandra. However, Dirty Harry is definitely superior to Johnny Got His Gun. (For that matter, Two-Lane Blacktop also came out in 1971 as well.) But, even if Johnny Got His Gun didn’t deserve to be one of the five Best Picture nominees, it did deserve some consideration for its cinematography and Diane Varsi’s performance. If the flashbacks and the fantasies were handled a bit more effectively, I would suggest that Jason Robards and Timothy Bottoms were worthy of consideration as well.

In conclusion, I should note that 1971 was a good year for Timothy Bottoms. Not only did he star in this film but he was also the star of The Last Picture Show.

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The Unnominated: Star 80 (dir by Bob Fosse)

Posted on October 27, 2021 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences claim that the Oscars honor the best of the year, we all know that there are always worthy films and performances that end up getting overlooked. Sometimes, it’s because the competition too fierce. Sometimes, it’s because the film itself was too controversial. Often, it’s just a case of a film’s quality not being fully recognized until years after its initial released. This series of reviews takes a look at the films and performances that should have been nominated but were,for whatever reason, overlooked. These are the Unnominated.

First released in 1983, Star 80 is an examination of fame, obsession, misogyny, and finally madness. All four of those qualities are exemplified in the character of Paul Snider (Eric Roberts), a man with a charming smile, a ludicrous wardrobe, and the personality of a pimp. When we first see Paul Snider, he’s naked and he’s covered in blood and he’s ranting about how the world is trying to destroy him. Even if he wasn’t holding a rifle, he would be terrifying. Suddenly, we flash back to a few years earlier. Snider is being dangled out a window by two men. Snider pathetically begs to be pulled back into the room. The men laugh at him before pulling him up. Snider, looking fairly ridiculous in a cheap suit that he probably thinks makes him look like a celebrity, fights off tears as he says he deserves to be treated with dignity.

Star 80 is based on a true story. Mariel Hemingway plays Dorothy Stratten, the actress and Playboy playmate who was murdered by Paul Snider. Snider, who often claimed credit for having “made” Dorothy, was married to her at the time, though Dorothy had filed for divorce and was dating director Peter Bogdanovich. Unwilling to let her go and return to being a small-time hustler, Snider shot Dorothy and then himself. Director Bob Fosse, who was best known for directing musicals like Cabaret and All That Jazz, was attracted to the story because he understood that type of world that produces sleazes like Paul Snider. According to Eric Robets, Fosse even said that he probably would have ended up like Paul Snider if not for his talent.

Snider, the film quickly establishes, really doesn’t have any talent beyond the ability to manipulate people who are too naïve to see through his bullshit. Snider wants to be a star. He wants to be rich. He wants people to kiss his ass. When he meets Dorothy, he sees her as his ticket. Dorothy’s mother (a poignant performance from Carroll Baker) sees straight through him from the start. Tragically, Dorothy doesn’t realize the truth abut who he is until they’re already in Hollywood. As Dorothy tries to break away from him, Paul desperately tries to find some sort of success, all the while complaining that the world is conspiring to keep him from being a man.

Eric Roberts dominates the film and it’s one of the scariest performances that I’ve ever seen. Roberts is convincing when he’s ranting and raving against the world that he feels is against him but what’s even more disturbing is that he’s convincing when he’s turning on the charm. Paul Snider may not be smart. Paul Snider may not be talented. But he know how to gaslight. He knows how to destroy someone’s fragile confidence, largely because his own confidence has been shattered so many times that he’s become an expert in exploiting insecurity. Snider is a tacky dresser and nowhere near as smooth as he thinks but, intentionally or not, he uses that to his advantage. He tries so hard to impress that it’s easy to see how someone could feel sorry for him and want to help him. However, because Fosse lets us know from the start what Snider is really going on inside of Sinder’s head, we never make the mistake of trusting him. We know who Paul Snider is because we’ve all known a Paul Snider.

Eric Roberts’s performance is so intense that it’s unfortunate but not surprising that it was overlooked at the 1983 Oscars. He was playing a truly repellent character and he did it so convincingly that I imagine many viewers had a hard time realizing that Eric Roberts was not Paul Snider but was instead an actor playing a terrible character. Some probably said, “Why should we honor such a loathsome character?” and again, the answer is because there are many Paul Sniders out there. Roberts captured much more than just one man’s breakdown. He captured a sickness at the heart of a fame-driven culture.

Of course, Paul Snider was not the only symptom of that sickness to be depicted in Star 80. Every man that Dorothy either uses her in some way or just views her as being a commodity. Hugh Hefner (Cliff Robertson) presents himself as being a fatherly mentor but Robertson plays him as being just as manipulative and ultimately narcissistic as Paul Snider. Director Aram Nicholas (Roger Rees, playing a character based on Peter Bogdanovich) seems to love Dorothy but their relationship still feels out-of-balance. Aram, afterall, is the director while Dorothy is the actress. The private detective (Josh Mosel) that Paul hires to spy on Dorothy seems to have no lingering guilty over the role he played. Even Snider’s roommate (David Clennon) is more interested in talking about his dog and his car then about the murder/suicide of two people with whom he lived.

It’s a dark film and not one to be watched when depressed. At the same time, it’s a portrait of obsessiveness, misogyny, and an overwhelming need to be “someone” that still feels relevant today. Along with Sweet Charity, it was the only Bob Fosse film not to be nominated for Best Picture. (This was back when there were only five best picture nominees. Three of the nominated films — Terms of Endearment, Tender Mercies, and The Right Stuff — hold up well. Two of the nominees — The Dresser and The Big Chill — are a bit more iffy.) Eric Roberts was not nominated for the best performance of his career. Again, it’s a shame but not a surprise. This was a dark and disturbing film, a true Hollywood horror story. One imagines that most members of the Academy wanted to escape it far more than they wanted to honor and be reminded of it.

Previous entries in The Unnominated:

Auto Focus

The Unnominated: Auto Focus (dir by Paul Schrader)

Posted on March 25, 2021 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences claim that the Oscars honor the best of the year, we all know that there are always worthy films and performances that end up getting overlooked. Sometimes, it’s because the competition too fierce. Sometimes, it’s because the film itself was too controversial. Often, it’s just a case of a film’s quality not being fully recognized until years after its initial released. This series of reviews takes a look at the films and performances that should have been nominated but were,for whatever reason, overlooked. These are the Unnominated.

The 2002 film Auto Focus start out as almost breezy satire of the perfect all-American life and it ends with an act of shocking violence. It’s based on a real-life mystery, a murder that revealed a secret life.

When we first see Bob Crane (Greg Kinnear), he’s a disc jockey and a drummer living in the suburbs of Los Angeles in the mid-60s. He’s got what would appear to be the ideal life. He’s got a nice house. He and his wife (Rita Wilson) seem to be devoted to each other. His children are adorable. He goes to church. He tells corny Dad jokes. He’s got a quick smile and a friendly manner and it’s impossible not to like him. When he gets offered the lead in a sitcom, his happiness and enthusiasm feels so generous that it’s impossible not to be happy for him.

Of course, the show is a comedy that takes place in World War II POW camp, which doesn’t really sound like a surefire hit or really anything that should be put on the air. (“Funny Nazis?” Crane says in disbelief when he’s first told about the project.) Still, with Crane in the lead role, Hogan’s Heroes becomes a hit and, for a while, Bob Crane becomes a star and it seems like it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy.

The problem, of course, is that Crane seems like he’s too good to be true and we all know what they say about things like that. From the start, there are hints that Crane may be hiding another side of his personality. His wife, for instance, is not happy when she discovers his stash of pornographic magazines in their garage. (“They’re photography magazines!” Crane protests with a smile that’s a bit too quick.) Crane obviously enjoys the recognition that comes from being the star of a top-rated show. He starts hanging out at strip clubs, occasionally playing drums with the club’s band and watching the dancers with a leer that’s really not all that different from the smile that he flashes whenever he asks anyone if they want an autograph.

Crane also meets John Carpenter (Willem DaFoe), an electronics expert who introduces him to the then-expensive and exclusive world of home video. As opposed to the clean-cut and smoothly-spoken Crane, Carpenter is so awkward that it’s sometimes painful to watch him move or listen to him speak. He’s the epitome of the Hollywood hanger-on, the type who has deluded himself into thinking that his celebrity clients genuinely like him and enjoy his company. He and Crane become fast friends, though it’s always obvious that Crane considers himself to be better than Carpenter. However, Carpenter is the only person with whom Crane can share the details of his secret life.

The film covers several years, from the late 60s to the mid-70s. Crane goes from being so clean-cut that he neither drinks nor curses to being so addicted to sex that he can stop himself even when it starts to destroy his career and leads to him losing everything that he loves. Carpenter and Crane’s friendship becomes progressively more and more self-destructive until the film ends in violence and tragedy.

Auto Focus begins on a light and breezy note but, as Crane’s addiction grows, the film grows darker. By the time the movie enters the 70s, the camerawork becomes more jittery and the once soft-spoken Crane seems to be drowning in his own anxiety. He becomes the type who causally goes from talking to Carpenter about how he wants to direct the world’s greatest sex film to cheerfully announcing that Disney has decided to cast him in a film called SuperDad. Auto Focus‘s key scene comes towards the end, when Crane is a guest on a silly cooking show and shocks the audience by harassing a woman sitting in the front row. When the audience boos, Crane flashes his familiar smile and it becomes obvious just how much of Crane’s life has been spent hiding behind that smile. By the end of the film, not even Crane himself can keep track of whether or not he’s a wholesome comedy star or a self-destructive sex addict.

Both Greg Kinnear and Willem DaFoe gave Oscar-worthy performance in Auto Focus, performances that hold your interest even after their characters sink to some truly low depths. The film makes good use of Kinnear’s amiable screen presence and Kinnear convincingly creates a man who wishes that he could be the person that he’s fooled everyone into thinking that he is. By the time he’s reduced to begging his agent (well-played by Ron Leibman) to find him a game show so that he can finally stop doing dinner theater, it’s hard not to have a little sympathy for him, even if the majority of his problems are self-created. As Carpenter, DaFoe is convincingly creepy but, at times, he’s also so pathetic that, again, you can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. At his worst, Carpenter is the 70s equivalent of the twitter user who stans a celebrity by sending them adoring tweets and then picking fights with anyone who disagrees.

Unfortunately, the Academy nominated neither Kinnear for Best Actor nor DaFoe for Best Supporting Actor. The competition for Best Actor was fierce that year, with Nicolas Cage, Michael Caine, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Jack Nicholson all losing to Adrien Brody in The Pianist. While Kinnear deserved a nomination, it’s hard to say who I would drop from that line-up to make room for him. As for DaFoe, I would argue that he was more deserving of a supporting actor nomination than The Hours‘s Ed Harris or The Road To Perdition’s Paul Newman. Perhaps DaFoe was just too convincing as the type of clingy groupie that most members of the Academy probably dread having to deal with.

Nominated or not, Auto Focus is a disturbing and ultimately sad look at the darkness that often hides behind a perfect facade.