Re: Best Cinematography 1961
Posted: Sun May 26, 2019 2:48 pm
What an effort I had to put in to be able to comment on this group (since I'm determined to be the sort of honest "saw 'em all" voter I'd be in real time). The black and white crew wasn't at issue, as I'd seen all of them, including one in a theatre (points if you can spot which one a 9-year old would have been likely to see that way). But the color nominees included three -- count 'em, three -- movies I'd managed to avoid for most of my long life.
On the black and white side, La Dolce Vita and Rocco and His Brothers are glaring omissions; both would have contended for my win had they been listed.
And somehow The Absent-Minded Professor was deemed more worthy of inclusion, likely because it was a monster hit (and, yes, the one I saw in theatre). The cinematography in Disney movies was nearly always cheesy (people in 1976 said parts of Hitchcock's Family Plot looked like a Disney movie, and that was not meant as compliment); this film is no exception, even if I have fond childhood memories of it. (Though The Shaggy Dog was dearer to my heart.)
One, Two, Three has nothing to visually distinguish it. Wilder had made many films that used B&W artfully (Double Indemnity, Stalag 17, Some Like It Hot), but here there was nothing worth noting.
The Children's Hour makes decent use of its mostly interior sets, but its nomination feels like "we have to nominate something here". (B&W films were on their way to oblivion, and many 60s nominations in this category point to that trend.)
If the cinematographer had anything to do with encouraging Kramer to do those irritating 360-degree pans of the courtroom, he ought to be eliminated on that basis alone.
The Hustler is the clear achievement of this group -- from the smoky pool rooms to the desolation of the early morning cafeteria, it captures an atmosphere that makes its story feel more lived-in than an other film on the list.
So, on to color. Breakfast at Tiffany's is the clear missing film of merit. I'm just glad they didn't nominate El Cid, sparing me having to endure the full three hours of that.
Somehow, I'd managed to go through life without ever seeing any version of Flower Drum Song (and only knowing a few of the songs, like Grant Avenue and I Enjoy Being a Girl). My take on it was (1) it's pretty close to generic plot (compared to the rest of Rodgers & Hammerstein, which had more complex stories) and (2) it's amazing that Crazy Rich Asians, five-plus decades later, is still using that "parents disapprove of who I marry" thing as the central conflict. Is this the only plot Hollywood thinks of when Asians are involved? The movie's look is okay, but pales beside the year's other ethnic musical.
A Majority of One is deeply hobbled by ridiculous casting -- not just using Guinness as a Japanese man (a ludicrousness also seen in the Broadway run, where Cedric Hardwicke played the role), but doubling down by asking Rosalind Russell to play a part fashioned around Gertrude Berg. Yet...I kind of enjoyed the movie -- not in any significant way, but as a reminder of the times when Broadway produced crowd-pleasing but semi-intelligent human comedies. As a cinematography nominee, though, it's rather a joke.
Though I worked hard to get all the nominees under my belt, I'm still a bit uneasy about voting, because, based on what Precious Doll wrote here, I'm afraid I saw an unrepresentative print of One-Eyed Jacks. It's the most current one Netflix has available (only watched it this week), but it matches the description Precious gave of his earlier viewing. In fact, watching it, I was thinking, there's no way a studio would have let something so washed-out-looking be released under its banner, so I must conclude it's an old, faded print, and that a viewing of a restored version would change my outlook. However (1) I've already put more effort into this 1961 race than it's worth and (2) I doubt I could push myself to watch the film a second time (I've seen too much Karl Malden as it is). So, a perhaps unfair pass from me.
Fanny I've seen a few times over the years, and, while it pales next to the original French trilogy, lack of prettiness is not one of its flaws.
But why take the prize away from West Side Story, which is still (given its age) rather impressive visually -- from the landmark opening prologue, through the gaudy dance at the gym, to the delicately lit fire escape/balcony, and the final schoolyard tragedy? My fond childhood memories of the film (yep: saw this one in a theatre, as well) have not faded enough for me to deny it my vote.
On the black and white side, La Dolce Vita and Rocco and His Brothers are glaring omissions; both would have contended for my win had they been listed.
And somehow The Absent-Minded Professor was deemed more worthy of inclusion, likely because it was a monster hit (and, yes, the one I saw in theatre). The cinematography in Disney movies was nearly always cheesy (people in 1976 said parts of Hitchcock's Family Plot looked like a Disney movie, and that was not meant as compliment); this film is no exception, even if I have fond childhood memories of it. (Though The Shaggy Dog was dearer to my heart.)
One, Two, Three has nothing to visually distinguish it. Wilder had made many films that used B&W artfully (Double Indemnity, Stalag 17, Some Like It Hot), but here there was nothing worth noting.
The Children's Hour makes decent use of its mostly interior sets, but its nomination feels like "we have to nominate something here". (B&W films were on their way to oblivion, and many 60s nominations in this category point to that trend.)
If the cinematographer had anything to do with encouraging Kramer to do those irritating 360-degree pans of the courtroom, he ought to be eliminated on that basis alone.
The Hustler is the clear achievement of this group -- from the smoky pool rooms to the desolation of the early morning cafeteria, it captures an atmosphere that makes its story feel more lived-in than an other film on the list.
So, on to color. Breakfast at Tiffany's is the clear missing film of merit. I'm just glad they didn't nominate El Cid, sparing me having to endure the full three hours of that.
Somehow, I'd managed to go through life without ever seeing any version of Flower Drum Song (and only knowing a few of the songs, like Grant Avenue and I Enjoy Being a Girl). My take on it was (1) it's pretty close to generic plot (compared to the rest of Rodgers & Hammerstein, which had more complex stories) and (2) it's amazing that Crazy Rich Asians, five-plus decades later, is still using that "parents disapprove of who I marry" thing as the central conflict. Is this the only plot Hollywood thinks of when Asians are involved? The movie's look is okay, but pales beside the year's other ethnic musical.
A Majority of One is deeply hobbled by ridiculous casting -- not just using Guinness as a Japanese man (a ludicrousness also seen in the Broadway run, where Cedric Hardwicke played the role), but doubling down by asking Rosalind Russell to play a part fashioned around Gertrude Berg. Yet...I kind of enjoyed the movie -- not in any significant way, but as a reminder of the times when Broadway produced crowd-pleasing but semi-intelligent human comedies. As a cinematography nominee, though, it's rather a joke.
Though I worked hard to get all the nominees under my belt, I'm still a bit uneasy about voting, because, based on what Precious Doll wrote here, I'm afraid I saw an unrepresentative print of One-Eyed Jacks. It's the most current one Netflix has available (only watched it this week), but it matches the description Precious gave of his earlier viewing. In fact, watching it, I was thinking, there's no way a studio would have let something so washed-out-looking be released under its banner, so I must conclude it's an old, faded print, and that a viewing of a restored version would change my outlook. However (1) I've already put more effort into this 1961 race than it's worth and (2) I doubt I could push myself to watch the film a second time (I've seen too much Karl Malden as it is). So, a perhaps unfair pass from me.
Fanny I've seen a few times over the years, and, while it pales next to the original French trilogy, lack of prettiness is not one of its flaws.
But why take the prize away from West Side Story, which is still (given its age) rather impressive visually -- from the landmark opening prologue, through the gaudy dance at the gym, to the delicately lit fire escape/balcony, and the final schoolyard tragedy? My fond childhood memories of the film (yep: saw this one in a theatre, as well) have not faded enough for me to deny it my vote.