Gross Behaviour - by Leonard Klady

My Mother Thanks You, My Father Thanks You

About 15 years ago, I trotted over to the University of Southern California for an evening with the distinguished Hungarian filmmaker Istvan Szabo. The event actually turned out to be a session with Szabo and actor Klaus Maria Brandauer - both men were in town for the Academy Awards as their film Hanussen was a nominee in the foreign-language category. The two were familiar with the drill, having previously been nominated and winning the statuette several years earlier for Mephisto.

Toward the end of the evening when the audience was allowed to ask questions, a student stood up and wondered what the experience was like of being in competition for the Oscar.

Szabo reacted with a grimace and ran his hand across his face as if to erase the expression. He sighed and began his answer by referring to the process as “barbaric.” The audience let out a collective nervous laugh and Szabo continued. “It’s ridiculous,” he said. “There is no way to compare films with such diverse aims and intentions (also nominated that year were The Music Teacher, Salaam Bombay, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and the winner, Pelle the Conqueror). I prefer not to compete in this manner because it does not enhance any of the selections and cannot benefit even the winner artistically.” He paused as if to change gears and concluded: “despite all that, being nominated is nice because the film becomes part of the discussion. And given all the options, I prefer to be talked about.”

It was an unusually mature pose and one wonders whether the Hungarian director would maintain his sang froid in an environment with an emotional intensity that has doubled or tripled in a mere decade and a half. It’s hard enough for even the most admired filmmakers to cobble together financing for a film with an adult theme and audience. However, the achievement of just making a good, thoughtful film isn’t enough in the current climate. The completed film is then put under a microscope and dissected by critics on both an artistic and commercial basis.

Though the scrutiny occurs all year long, it’s particularly wearisome at this time of year. Since December, director Denys Arcand and producer Denise Robert have flown into Los Angeles from Quebec a half dozen times to promote their film The Barbarian Invasions. The process began six months earlier when they accepted the invitation to compete at Cannes and that initial exposure received positive critical response and two jury prizes including one for Arcand’s script. They were also able to close a deal with Miramax to distribute in the U.S.

The film opened in Quebec to great success, followed by France where the response was equally upbeat. The couple promoted the film in both countries and then launched it in English Canada at the Toronto Film Festival where it received the award for best Canadian film. Next they came to America for the late year release and returned for the Broadcast Critic’s award (they won) and the Golden Globes (they lost). Arcand participated in a panel at the Santa Barbara festival, returned for the Oscar nominee lunch and will be back for the Oscars where the film is nominated in the foreign-language and original screenplay categories.

In between, he and Robert went to Berlin for the European Film Awards where the picture was named best non-European film and to various other countries to pave the way for its commercial release. Before the Oscars, they will also attend the BAFTAs in London where its competing in two categories and to Paris for the Cesars where it’s been cited in four categories including best film of the year (it was made as a Canada-France co-production).

While there’s no question the experience has been great for their frequent flyer accounts (the two are married with a teenage daughter), one can see that being good sports on the award circuit is wearing thin on them.

“There’s nothing you can do except be a sitting duck,” says Robert. “You know, the film is the film. You can’t alter it for each competition and you’re at the mercy of whoever votes.”

But while both Robert and Arcand try to maintain their equilibrium about the plaudits and praise, they say the worst of it is good intentioned friends who don’t mean to put pressure on them to win … but do. Arcand says that friends and neighbors are much more disappointed about the prizes not won and take it very personally. One also senses that the constant interruptions have intruded on more significant matters both personally (spending time with their daughter) and professionally (working on new projects).

When Mike Leigh was in Los Angeles to tub thump Topsy-Turvy, he eloquently and succinctly recalled the experience of being put through the Oscar wringer when Secrets & Lies (a grand prize winner at Cannes) was nominated in five categories including his script and direction. Leigh said that once one agrees to participate there’s no turning back. “You try to be objective,” he said. “But you cannot help but get caught up in the excitement as well wishers pat you on the back and tell you how wonderful you and the film are. You rent the tuxedo, pack your bags and get on the plane and as you get comfortable in your seat, you drift off and start to dream of hearing your name called and giving a brilliant speech. From the time you land and until the awards, there are days of events that bolster your confidence and on the day of the Oscars you put on your tuxedo and get into the limousine, go to the awards and sink into your seat. Then it begins and your categories are announced and you lose and lose and lose again and when you go away empty handed you cannot help but think if my movie was that good, why didn’t anyone get even a single prize. It’s a terrible blow to one’s sense of worth.”

There’s no question that just being nominated for a high profile award can elevate spirits and fees. One also has a brief window of opportunity when scripts and job offers sprout like mushrooms and saner heads find an apt morel to their story and not a yellow stain or death cap. Actor Michael Lerner, nominated for an Oscar for his performance in Barton Fink and prized for the same role by the New York Critics Circle, says that short memories and the proliferation of annual prizes meant that for years people mistakenly believed he won the Oscar. He would never correct them, just smile and say “thank you.”

I recall walking in to interview Julian Schabel hours after his film Before Night Falls had been honored by some critic’s group and hearing him asking a publicist about an appropriate response to questions about the prize and the film’s Oscar prospects. I blurted out, be humble and say you don’t deserve it or tell them that it’s as big a thrill as being named best artist of 1993 (Schnabel is best known for his canvases). He was slightly taken aback and said, “what best artist prize of 1993? They don’t give an award for that.” Exactly, I counted and Schnabel understood and nodded.

It’s difficult to argue that having an Oscar or Globe or Palme d’or on the shelf or a prominently displayed bookcase fills one with a degree of pride and accomplishment. It’s immediate and often translates into financial gain. The judgment of time may not be as kind. A half century later, it’s fair to say that High Noon has more resonance than The Greatest Show on Earth and that Judy Garland’s turn in A Star is Born is more beloved than Grace Kelly’s performance in The Country Girl and James Dean’s debut in East of Eden gives Ernest Borgnine’s Marty a very heated race. Whether a jury, critic’s panel or organization doles it out, film honors of every stripe can be called into question … and debated endlessly.

But occasionally, a prize really does make a significant difference. Two decades ago at the Berlin Festival, I met the Egyptian writer-director Youssef Chahine who was attending with his film Alexandria … Why?, the first part of a trilogy about growing up in the title city in the 1950s. Chahine was his country’s best-known filmmaker having made several seminal movies and for his discovery of Omar Sharif. The day before the closing night awards I ran into him at a screening and as we chatted, I casually mentioned that I thought his film would receive an award from the jury. He appeared shocked by this news and said, “that would mean everything for my film. It would guarantee it played in theaters in Egypt.”

Chahine went on to explain that the otherwise benign story had met with sharp demands from his country’s censors because of its depiction of his neighborhood where Muslims, Christians and Jews lived without turmoil or violence. The cuts they wanted, he felt, would destroy the film’s soul and render the narrative incomprehensible. However, if he returned with an award from Berlin, there would be so much attention in the media that the censor’s would not dare to ask for excisions. Alexandria … Why? Received the Silver Bear, Berlin’s second prize and Chahine was able to make two more movies about the era and in 1997 won the Palme d’or at Cannes for his aptly titled film Destiny.