..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

If Oscar voters seem far too willing to ignore the work of actors, directors, producers and writers laboring in the vineyards of low-budget independent films, presumably it’s because they’ve deferred such recognition for the Independent Spirit Awards, nominations for which will be announced Tuesday.

The annual beachfront clambake, staged on the Saturday afternoon before the Academy Awards in a giant white tent, has provided academy members with an excellent excuse for not obsessing over the types of movies that debut at film festivals and can’t afford full-court-press “consideration” campaigns. And, now that the deadline for Oscar nominations has been pushed up a month … well, who has that kind of time, anymore?

Freak box-office breakthroughs by such indies as Sideways, Lost in Translation, Pulp Fiction, Sling Blade and My Big Fat Greek Wedding, of course, are simply too successful to ignore. Dependent-independent distributors, like Miramax, Fox Searchlight, Paramount Classics, Sony Pictures Classics and Focus, will make sure screeners are sent to every voting member, and specialists are hired to map out publicity strategies.

The academy also seems to enjoy rewarding big name stars for their willingness to work below scale on projects that can benefit from their marquee value. Among the actors who have heard their names announced as nominees in both contests are Ian McKellen (Gods and Monsters), Nick Nolte (Affliction), Ellen Burstyn (Requiem for a Dream), Sissy Spacek (In the Bedroom), Julianne Moore (Far from Heaven) and Charlize Theron, who conquered both worlds for her work in Monster.

Paul Giamatti must have said or done something to piss off Oscar voters, because they’ve inexplicably ignored his wondrous performances in Sideways and American Splendor, while bestowing nominations on their co-stars, directors and writers. It’s as maddening for his growing legion of fans, as it must be frustrating for him. Hearing his name used in the same sentence as perennial Emmy-loser Susan Lucci – 1 for 20, when it comes to nominations vs. victories -- must be especially galling.

On Tuesday, it’s a dead certainty that one more titles or names known only to FIND’s nominating committee (formerly under the banner of IFP/West) will be announced as finalists for a Spirit trophy or cash prize. Typically, they won’t have benefited from the lobbying efforts afforded by one of the dependent-independent studios, and were seen first at a major film festival. Nor will any guarantee of distribution derive from said nomination.

Among the more recognizable films that have been honored with a Spirit nomination, based solely on at least one festival appearance, are Debra Granik’s newly released Down to the Bone, Lodge Kerrigan’s Claire Dolan, Lori Silverbush and Michael Skolnik’s On the Outs, Michael Schultze’s Woman Thou Art Loosed and Eric Eason’s Manito. None has won the big prize, but such recognition has provided career opportunities beyond the answered prayer of distribution, and some other kind of cable or DVD deal.

This variation on the rich-man/poor-man theme is another thing that separates the Spirits from other awards shows. Nonetheless, many observers argue that studio machinations have unfairly tipped the scales against any semblance of equality in this indie bakeoff. In an effort to quiet debate over what differentiates indie projects financed by maxed-out credit cards, from those already assured of distribution deals, FIND recently announced new guidelines.

Primary among them is the rule restricting nominees to movies completed for less than $20 million. Although puny by Hollywood standards, such a sum will still feel overly generous to many cash-strapped filmmakers. More vague are stipulations requiring nominated works to “embody independence,” “dare to challenge the status quo” and demonstrate an “economy of means.”

Some have argued that success has spoiled the Spirits, that the television Moloch has forced IFP/FIND to raise the glitz factor by enlisting the services of more young celebrities as presenters. It also has encouraged winners to toe the line on the length, clarity and appropriateness of acceptance speeches. (Coincidentally, perhaps, winners no longer resist the urge to thank their agents, lawyers and Jesus, who closely monitors such things, for their good fortune.)

The pasteurization of the Spirits has coincided with the rise of the dependent-independent -- which began in 1993, with Disney’s purchase of Miramax -- and general deification of celebrity in the media. What once existed primarily as a loosey-goosey gathering of the tribes, as well as a pleasant alternative to the stale pomposity of the Oscars, has evolved into a show that apes the excesses of every other awards show. (Indeed, Michael Moore didn’t even bother to re-write his acceptance speeches for Bowling for Columbine.)

This year’s ceremony will be shown live on IFC (Independent Film Channel) on the afternoon of March 4, and then edited for rebroadcast on AMC that evening. The AMC show will be preceded by an hour’s worth of red-carpet coverage on WE, which, when it isn’t gushing over the ladies’ designer casuals and funky accessories, likely will pay a visit to the Presenter Gift Lounge, and plug the “official” host hotels and airline “partner” of FIND.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Well, for one thing, the Spirits historically has been the one awards show that has basked in its consciously unpretentious atmosphere, and seemed oblivious to couture culture and jack-booted personal publicists. The whole concept of bribing presenters and nominees with expensive gifts, solely to ensure they’ll show up sober for the show, seemed too ludicrous a thing to promote. But, again, movie folk have gotten used to the attention, and now expect such largess.

Because of the beachfront location, the Spirits still feels like a party. Even so, its distinctive edge has been dulled by the presence of a small army of over-protective handlers, mercenary paparazzi, columnists trawling for gossip, full-of-themselves studio functionaries and stopwatch-clutching show producers. All the attention paid to the opulent goodie bags and celebrity guests, often at the expense of the less-heralded (and often anti-establishment) movies, now feels contradictory to the host organization’s stated mandate.

But, I digress. Actually, the point of this long-winded discourse (not unlike Ally Sheedy’s now-legendary, never-to-be-repeated acceptance speech, at the 1998 ceremony) was to introduce a film whose nearly two-year journey from Sundance to arthouses in New York and Los Angeles, this weekend, included a stop at last February’s Spirits.

Down to the Bone was nominated for the John Cassavetes Award, which honors films made for less than $500,000 … in this case, far less. Its competition included Robbing Peter, On the Outs, Unknown Soldier and the only other film yet to see release, winner Mean Creek.

Vera Farmiga, around whom everything in Granik’s first feature revolved, also represented Down to the Bone as a finalist for Best Female Lead. This time, the candidates included Oscar-nominee and eventual winner, Catalina Sandino Moreno (Maria Full of Grace), Kimberly Elise (Woman Thou Art Loosed), Judy Marte (On the Outs) and Kyra Sedgwick (Cavedweller).

In what already has been described as a slow year for Best Actress hopefuls, the New Jersey native’s deeply moving portrayal of a working-class wife and mother, taking a day-to-day approach to sobriety, would seem a logical candidate for consideration by Oscar nominees. But, don’t take my word for it.

Based on what he saw in a screener copy of Down to the Bone, Martin Scorsese decided to cast Farmiga in The Departed, an adaptation of the 2002 Hong Kong police thriller, "Infernal Affairs.” After seeing the film at Sundance, Wayne Kramer sought Farmiga for Running Scared, his upcoming follow-up to The Cooler. Also on tap are projects from Anthony Minghella and three freshman directors.

The point being, if her performance was good enough to impress the likes of Scorsese, Kramer and Minghella – and the casting directors among whom the screener has also circulated – mightn’t it also be worthy of Oscar consideration? Yes, of course, but … big but … it’s also entirely possible that voters will assume the newly released Down to the Bone isn’t of sufficient heft to represent their beloved academy, and the Spirits’ nominating committee will throw her a bone, instead … which, of course, it did LAST YEAR.

The same could hold true for Down to the Bone itself. It’s a terrific film, but, considering the dour tone, Dogma-influenced camerawork and micro-mini budget, it probably won’t stand much of a chance.

“At Sundance, people would tell me how much they loved our film, and how’d they’d lose their shirts if they tried to distribute it,” recalled Granik, in a phone conversation just days before her film’s New York opening. “Laemmle/Zeller is a new, maverick team dedicated to distributing films that have been deemed undistributable.”

Laemmle/Zeller didn’t come into the picture until several weeks after last February’s Spirits ceremony, which, itself, came more than a year after Sundance. In the meantime, “Down to the Bone” would screen at festivals from Cannes to Cleveland, Warsaw to Pusan.

The reviews preceding its limited release on Friday glowed with praise. The New York Times called it, “the kind of movie most independent films strive in vain to be: a small, beautifully faceted gem”; the Post’s critic opined, “Granik has found a star, and wisely builds every scene around Farmiga’s character”; and the LA Weekly called Farmiga, “extraordinary … a Slavic beauty with the still, watchful face of an illuminated manuscript.”

And, yes, the Ukrainian beauty is all that.

“The script was so honest … it didn’t have a false note in it,” said Farmiga, who graduated from Syracuse University, and, like her character, lives in upstate New York. “At first, though, I didn’t like my character all that much, and didn’t want to live inside her shoes. She was a contradiction … intelligent, complex, too smart for her environment.

“And, yet, she was caught in this downward spiral of addiction. The more I learned about Irene, the more I needed to know about what drives people to self-medicate … and how they allowed themselves to become addicted.”

Down to the Bone is one of those projects that set out in one direction, but ended up in an entirely different destination.

Granik’s original inclination was to make a documentary about the proprietors of a haunted inn located in upstate New York. The project was scrapped after she arrived at the B&B, only to be greeted by an ambulance called in to transport the mother of one of the owners.

Shaken, Granik found opportunity in the person of Corinne Stralka, who worked as a housekeeper at the inn. Stralka’s struggle to cope with life as a wife, mother and substance abuser would form the nucleus for Snake Feed -- a short film in which Stralka and her family essentially played themselves – and, five years later, the feature-length drama, “Down to the Bone.”

Shot in rural Ulster County, a couple of hours’ drive north from Manhattan, the film perfectly captures the monotony of day-to-day life in a small town, especially after the first blanket of snow has shrouded the landscape. Country living has its charms, but performing mundane tasks for chump change has a way of dampening the spirits of marginally employed adults. To make time fly by a little quicker, many of the locals have turned to booze … others, however, require something a bit more pharmaceutical in nature.

For Farmiga’s character, Irene, the money hidden in the cookie jar went to her local purveyor of the powered form of cocaine. It could just as easily been spent on such other readily available substances as heroin, meth, crack, Oxycontin, pot or Vicodin.

Irene’s habit doesn’t require vast sums of money, or monthly commutes to Miami. Her ability to function as the working mother of two children occasionally requires a bump or two, as do such testing moments as the Halloween trick-or-treat ritual and rush hour at the check-out line at the local supermarket.

Inevitably, the day comes when this otherwise unremarkable woman runs out of pin money, and her dealer refuses to accept her son’s birthday check as collateral for a bindle of blow. Knowing that she’s reached her rope’s end, Irene decides to trade some vacation time for a few weeks in a rehab program.

Sans stage makeup and a glam hairdo, Farmigo approaches her character’s dilemma with the kind of cautious optimism necessary to survive a stint in a recovery facility and, later, evenings spent smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee with other 12-steppers. While there, Irene runs into a handsome neighbor, a nurse named Bob (Hugh Dillon), whose cigarette-cured voice reeks of sincerity, sympathy and experience.

“I love playing women with survival issues,” said Farmiga, whose previous credits have included The Manchurian Candidate, Dummy, Love in the Time of Money, Fifteen Minutes, Autumn in New York and The Opportunists. “This was the kind of role I would audition for, but always lose to Robin Wright Penn or one of the Kates. They got all the interesting parts.”

Granik said that 95 percent of the film was shot using hand-held cameras, which were unobtrusive and mobile enough to keep the real-life participants in the group discussions from straying too far from the normal behavior. Lighting setups were minimal, as well.

Irene successfully graduates from the program, but, back home, she quickly realizes that she’s walking a tightrope without a support system. Her party-hardy husband doesn’t feel it necessary to indulge his own passion for stimulants in private, while, at work, her bosses are perplexed by Irene’s sudden downtown in production on the checkout line.

Like Karinna, Irene goes to work with a woman she met in detox (“I spent a lot of time with her, cleaning houses and going to rehab …”) One of the cleaning fluids she uses reminds her of the taste and smell of cocaine, and it causes her to relapse.

Just when the going gets tough, Bob hits Irene with his best Barry White impression. Incapable of confronting his anxiety over intimacy while straight, Bob has secretly returned to the needle for solace.

Newly emboldened, the seduction process plays out with the quiet intensity and patience of a snake laying in wait for its unsuspecting prey. Irene sees the attack coming, but her neediness leaves her defenseless against lover’s coiled musculature.

Granik and Farmiga let Irene’s story play out a natural pace, avoiding the extreme highs and lows of most cinematic depictions of junkie life. Compared to the manic relationships depicted in The Panic in Needle Park, Clean and Sober and The Boost, Irene and Bob’s life together is relatively uneventful.

Even so, the drama surrounding Irene’s ability to keep her life and family together is palpable throughout the course of the film’s 104-minute length. And, Granik allows her audience plenty of room to come to their own conclusions about the future of Bob and Irene, together or apart.

When asked, Granik admitted to being “out of the loop,” when it comes to speculation about awards and the intricacies of the Motion Picture Academy’s sometimes arcane eligibility guidelines. Recognition by the Spirits’ nominating committee was sufficiently fulfilling, and, anyway, she’s turned over the rights to Down to the Bone to Laemmle/Zeller.

“Awards don’t make me feel better about my work,” she said. “It’s the support I get from audiences that helps me as a filmmaker.”

November 28, 2005
- Gary Dretzka

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