I, Tonya

Director: Craig Gillespie
Starring: Margot Robbie, Sebastian Stan, Allison Janney, Julianne Nicholson, Bobby Cannavale, Paul Walter Houser, Caitlyn Carver, Ricky Russert, Mckenna Grace
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

There's this moment that comes in Craig Gillespie's biopic, I, Tonya, when disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding, years removed from the infamous event that would define her life and career, turns to the camera to tell us this is part of the story we've been waiting for. It's why we're here. Or the "incident," as it's referred to. More time is spent on it than you've been lead to believe, which includes everything from the planning to the botched execution and even more seriously botched cover-up. But I, Tonya isn't about any of this, while still also managing to be completely about it at the same time.

It becomes nearly impossible to separate the accompanying media narrative pushing Harding as this victimized anti-hero from the film itself. If the full extent of Harding's involvement in the 1994 attack on rival Olympic figure skater Nancy Kerrigan will always be subject for debate, what isn't is the fact that her actions and associations did lead directly to it. And with all that being true, it also needs to be acknowledged that she lead a mostly terrible life defined by physical and psychological abuse.

The toughest aspect of the movie is how it uncomfortably forces all those aforementioned elements to co-exist in a way they haven't before, perhaps in the end landing at the conclusion that Harding, no matter how you feel about her, never stood a chance. That any success she had was indirectly bred from misery and that feeling of never fitting in would persist, regardless of her talent or accomplishments. If you're Team Kerrigan, as I was at the time and still remain, there's relief in knowing that it's okay to empathize with the title character of this film, while not extending that same courtesy to the real person on whom it's based.

While filled to the brim with its fair share of detestable losers, it's also really cleverly conceived, told in a fourth wall-breaking, quasi-documentary style that suits the twisted subject, featuring flashbacks and interviews that carry a satirical tone, assuring the absurdity of the situation and its delusional characters is rarely lost. That combined with the two perfectly calibrated performances make for one of the more intriguing entries into the sports movie genre, as if there's even a correct way to categorize this. But whatever it is, it's definitely not what anyone expected.

It's the 1970's when three-year-old ice skating prodigy Tonya Harding is pushed by her abusive mother LaVona (Allison Janey) to train in her hometown of Portland, Oregon under the guidance of coach Diane Rawlinson (Julianne Nicholson). Seeing her daughter's astounding talent as merely a quick cash-in, Tonya (Margot Robbie) continues to rise up the ranks into her teen years, rapidly becoming one of the best figure skaters in the country. But even as she does this on pure skill alone, she faces resistance from those within the skating committee who take exception to her "poor white trash" reputation, which manifests itself on the ice with her costumes and rock music choices, not to mention the constant swearing at judges over scores.

Off the ice, Tonya does herself even fewer favors, associating with the likes of Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan), whom she began dating at 15, and eventually marrying, much to LaVona's disapproval. It's a relationship that proves to be nearly as destructive and toxic as that with her mom, who continues to verbally cut her down as a failure well into young adulthood, while Gillooly's volcanic temper soon leads to violent beatings. The better Tonya's skating gets, the more hellish her personal life becomes, with all roads leading to the 1994 attack on Olympic rival and teammate Nancy Kerrigan (Caitlyn Carver) by Gillooly stooges Shawn Eckhardt (Paul Walter Hauser) and Shane Stant (Ricky Russert). Unfortunately, the rest is history.

While it's easy to accuse Gillespie and writer Steven Rogers' screenplay of piling on the trauma that followed Harding throughout her life, too much of it actually occurred to effectively hurl that criticism. And all of it came from her mother, who's played here by Janney in her Oscar-winning supporting turn as just about the most detestable parent and human being one could imagine existing, constantly lashing out at her daughter for no good reason other than to mitigate her own failures.

Making Tonya feel as worthless as possible isn't just an everyday occurrence with the vulgar, chain-smoking LaVona, but her life's mission, poorly disguising it under the mask of "tough love" as she brags about the sacrifices she's made for her disappointment of a daughter. As driving force and chief antagonist of this entire story, I'd love to report she's a deeply complex, nuanced character, but the fact is she's just plain awful. This comes as a relief in some ways, completely in line with the film's darkly comic viciousness, as the script makes no apologies or excuses for her monstrous behavior.

Many detractors are right in assessing that Janney is hitting one note and LaVona is a caricature, but anyone who's seen footage of the real woman (who actually does have a pet parakeet on her shoulder) would tell you that's exactly what she is. And given the semi-ironic tone the picture's going for, any attempt to humanize her would probably be a major mistake. It's a telling moment when during one of the many videotaped confessional moments, Harding expresses confusion as to why so many people would care about Nancy Kerrigan getting hit once when she was beaten her entire life. It takes a second to realize the statement is true, before realizing what that says about Tonya for making it. And none of it's flattering.

In addition to completely transforming her physical appearance, effectively adapting her mannerisms and style of speech and believably inhabiting the figure skater from her early teen years into nearly middle age, the biggest accomplishment of Margot Robbie's outlandishly great lead performance is how it gives you peeks into this tragically troubled athlete's psyche. If her mother has no hint of humanity, Tonya does, putting the work in to reach the top only to have her demons destroy the only thing she ever loved and excelled at: skating.

Despite possessing considerably more raw talent than her rivals and becoming the first woman to nail the triple axel (in one of many believable, masterfully edited competition scenes) it still wasn't good enough because she couldn't "play the game." And that's important in a sport that revolves around class and elegance, something ice princess Kerrigan had in spades but Tonya's upbringing made it impossible for her to fake, even if she was willing to. And she was never willing to, in so many ways setting up this dichotomy that existed between Harding and Kerrigan that went beyond sport and competition, serving instead as media catnip.

The genius of the screenplay is how their feud isn't explicitly explored (Kerrigan hardly appears), but its cultural implications nonetheless permeate through every frame of the film, even reaching back to when Tonya's a little girl. It's crass vs. class. The smoking, swearing rebel vs. the sweet girl next door. And as skilled as Hollywood writers are, none of them could have crafted a better story than the real one that took viewers into Lillehammer in 1994 when for a few short months figure skating became bigger than the Super Bowl. Wisely, Gillespie doesn't attempt to replicate that, instead focusing on its most controversial participant, with even the classic rock soundtrack selections inseparable from Tonya's head space, as well as the lowlifes she surrounded herself with.

Most of the picture's second half revolves around her relationship with Gillooly, played by Sebastian Stan in an underappreciated performance. Initially presenting himself as meek and quiet, he eventually assumes the mantle of the new chronic abuser in Harding's life, as their toxic on-again, off-again relationship is filled with nonstop verbal and physical altercations, including a particularly memorable one involving a firearm. And it's in a pathetically desperate last ditch attempt to prove he "loves" her that Gillooly calls in a favor from his buddy Shawn Eckhardt, perhaps the most pitiable and inept character in this entire saga, with actual assailant Shane Stant running a close second.

What begins as an anonymous threat against Kerrigan careens wildly out of control, and what's most surprising about how Gillespie depicts the infamous incident is how it's hilariously played as total farce. And that's exactly what it was. An episode of "World's Dumbest Criminals" that happened to have very real, deadly serious consequences. Did Tonya know?  Does it even matter? While the script doesn't present any additional information to come to a concrete conclusion one way or another, Tonya Harding is responsible. Or rather irresponsible, just by her association with Gillooly. In other words, by the time the knee clubbing occurred, the crazy train already left the station for Tonya, and the screenplay does an excellent job detailing how her life would inevitably lead to disaster. If it wasn't this, then there's a good chance it just would have been something else.

While it's clearly irrefutable that justice was served in the ruling to ban Harding for life from figure skating and TV ratings can be cited as the only reason she was at the Olympics instead of in jail, there's another defining event in the film that lingers longer in the mind. It comes in the only moment LaVona seems to display something resembling an actual soul, before the curtain is pulled back to reveal more heinous motivations. It's may be easy to argue whether Harding did or didn't deserve her lot in life, but few would claim she had that betrayal coming, especially at the hands of her own mother.

While criticisms will continue to persist that Gillespie is really making fun of these people with the mockumentary approach he takes, it's a story that's probably impossible with a straight face anyway, or at least without occasionally winking at the audience. It's the perfect approach because the situation is just too absurd to do otherwise, especially when the harshest skewering is reserved for the media in the form of Bobby Cannavale's Hard Copy tabloid TV producer. At one point, Harding's contemplative and brutally honest, if not particularly self-reflective, narration acknowledges how shows like that are now the news thanks this event and the O.J. case. But I,Tonya delves even deeper by attempting to explore how much a person's actions are guided and shaped by socio-economic circumstances extending beyond their control, and whether or not that  should matter when life's final score is eventually tallied.
      

It

Director: Andy Muschietti
Starring: Jaeden Lieberher, Bill Skarsgård, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Finn Wolfhard, Wyatt Oleff, Chosen Jacobs, Jack Dylan Grazer, Nicholas Hamilton, Jackson Robert Scott
Running Time: 135 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The experience you had watching a movie can often far surpass the movie itself, frequently causing confusion between the two. Strangely, such an experience accompanied my early 90's viewing of the miniseries adaptation of Stephen King's It. And while I exactly remember the when, why and where, it's more difficult to recall a single thing about the actual movie other than it being overlong and mostly terrible, as the King TV adaptations tended to be. But that second half featuring the child characters as adults was particularly disappointing, sucking whatever entertainment value remained from watching Tim Curry's evil clown wreck havoc in this small Maine town. And while it definitely wasn't scary, it's hard to point to any miniseries of the era that was.

It's fitting to discuss memories and nostalgia when examining the many merits of Andy Muschietti's reimagined vision of It since that's how he makes this interpretation connect. And if there's one thing we've learned about the frequently unadaptable works of Stephen King, it's that you need to find a way in. His mind goes to these strange, weird places, and unless the filmmaker can find a suitable entrance, it can all seem kind of ridiculous. In this case, that door was in front of our faces the whole time: Stand By Me-era King meets 80's Spielberg by way of Stranger Things. At the risk of simplifying it, that's the key, and the rest of the pieces just fall into place.

Anyone doubting the extent of Stranger Things' pop culture stranglehold needn't look any further than It, since this couldn't or wouldn't have unfolded the way it does without that series. But it would all mean nothing if they didn't put in the work and get it right, taking an approach that's exactly appropriate for material that now suddenly feels purposeful, possessing a palpable sense of time and place entirely absent from its predecessor. If someone asks what this is about, you can now actually tell them with a clear conscience. But why bother, when the film does such a magnificent job conveying that all on its own, earning a spot alongside the likes of Stand by Me, Carrie, The Shining, The Shawshank Redemption and Dolores Claiborne on any essential list of the most successful cinematic King adaptations.

It's October 1988 in Derry, Maine when nervously stuttering Bill Denbrough (Jaeden Lieberher) makes his 7-year-old little brother Georgie (Jackson Robert Scott) a paper sailboat, which he loses down a sewer drain in the middle of a rain storm. While attempting to retrieve it, he comes face-to face with a terrifying clown who calls himself "Pennywise The Dancing Clown" (Bill Skarsgård). After initially earning Georgie's trust, he viciously attacks the boy, dragging him into the sewer, never to be seen again.

Flashforward to the following year and Bill hasn't given hope finding his little brother, despite his parents' and much of the town believing him to be dead. But when there's another mysterious disappearance under similar circumstances, Bill enlists the help of his friends, foul-mouthed Richie Tozier (Finn Wolfhard), asthmatic Eddie Kaspbrak (Jack Dylan Grazer) and reluctant Stan Uris (Wyatt Oleff), to to go to a local marsh called the Barrens and investigate the possibility Georgie's still alive. While there, they encounter teen bully Henry Bowers (Nicholas Hamilton) and his gang who have been tormenting overweight new kid, Ben Hanscom (Jeremy Ray Taylor), whose hours of research in the Derry library has provided the group with more than a few ideas about these child abductions.

Joining them is another Bowers Gang victim, orphaned African American student Mike Hanlon (Chosen Jacobs), and the only female member of what eventually becomes "The Losers' Club," tomboy Beverly Marsh (Sophia Lillis), whose rumored promiscuity has also made her a bullying target, even as a smitten Bill and Ben compete for her affections. Soon, the kids all realize they've had visions of the same clown, the sadistic Pennywise, who assumes the appearance of whatever they fear most. And each of them have personal demons to overcome before attempting to stop this unpredictable entity who knows just how to exploit those fears, aiming to resume the reign of terror he wrecks on the children of Derry every 27 years. To beat him they'll have to bravely band together, despite the clown's best efforts to drive them apart.

Freed from many of the creative constraints that hampered previous King horror adaptations, this one rips the band-aid off right away, with a declarative opening sequence that lets you know this It means business. Shot in a washed-out VHS-era haze and backed by an unnerving, foreboding score by Benjamin Wallfisch, an unmistakable atmosphere is established that was certainly missing in the original. An "R" rating isn't necessarily a must for any horror entry, but in this specific case it really bolsters the material, at least due in part to the fact that we're just not used seeing characters this age acting authentically and being terrorized to the degree they are here. Much like Stranger Things and 80's classics that inspired it, the young actors actually look and behave like kids, and among a fairly large cast, each are given distinctive personality traits that equip them differently in dealing with the evil clown.

Muschietti masters what so many previous filmmakers adapting King's work have failed to grasp by effectively picking his spots, knowing the trigger buttons for maximum fright, as well as how hard and often to push them. After a terrifyingly graphic introduction, Pennywise's subsequent appearances are strategically placed to count, as the focus turns to building the groundwork of the kids' relationships to each other so when the time comes for that ultimate showdown, we'll care.

The more we get to know the group, the more we eventually start seeing of Pennywise, menacingly played by Bill Skarsgård in a performance that shuts down any and all comparisons to Tim Curry's portrayal, if only because the presentation feels so wildly different this time around. Skarsgård brings an innocent, almost childlike playfulness to him that somehow seems even more sinister and monstrous, as he attempts to meet them on their level. King's story always had the advantage that clowns are inherently creepy, but you can't help think this reckless incarnation is more dangerous, frequently calling to mind the differences between Ledger's and Nicholson's Jokers.

Since Pennywise is used so sparingly in the opening hour, when the time arrives for him to take center stage in the battle with these kids, it actually means something. There are moments of true terror in not only their encounters with Derry's sadistic antagonist (particularly one suspenseful scene involving a slide projector), but in their everyday lives. Darker, more adult elements of King's novel were cleaned up for a suitable network TV presentation over two decades ago such as vicious bullying, child abuse, kidnapping and murder are given a more fully fleshed-out treatment here by Muschietti. Of course none of it would work if not for the casting of these kids, each of whom overdeliver, with one delivering one of the most memorable on screen interpretations of a King character in years.

Jaeden Lieberher ably takes the lead as the reluctant but determined Bill while Jeremy Ray Taylor seems to channel a young, chubby Jerry O'Connell from Stand By Me as chronic bullying victim, Ben. The latter's story arc is sure to remind many of Stranger Things, with Nicholas Hamilton's sociopathic delinquent, Henry, baring more than a passing resemblance to the similarly psychotic Billy from that series' sophomore season. But it's ultimately the work of Sophia Lillis as the abused and ostracized Beverly that makes the strongest connection, both with viewers and the source material.

Handed the most emotionally challenging of the main roles, Beverly carries with her a knowledge and world-weariness that seems years beyond her age, even as she remains paralyzingly stunted and a prisoner of her own fear. Or more accurately, the fear of her evil, abusive father. If ever there was a bridge between the first and second chapters of this saga, it's Lillis who builds it with a performance that basically dictates where that installment needs to go, even prompting many to acknowledge there's no better actress fit to take over that role than Jessica Chastain. Aside from the obvious similarity in looks, that she might be the only one to do it justice speaks volumes about what Lillis accomplishes.

If that casting possibility is the very definition of a no-brainer, figuring out a way to make Chapter 2 as involving will still be the biggest obstacle given King's penchant for sloppy, unrealized endings. There's a reason the most successful cinematic adaptations of the author's work have frequently deviated from their sources in unexpected ways. With this being the narratively stronger section, Muschietti manages to get away with not doing much of that but it'll be intriguing to see what tricks he'll have up his sleeve to further develop the story and characters following the twenty-seven year time jump.

That the ending has us looking forward to that second chapter is something few thought was even possible after the project was announced and then spent some time in pre-production purgatory. And even fewer still could have ever guessed It would become the all-time highest- grossing horror film to date. Watching the last thirty or forty minutes should be a strong reminder why, as that slow, simmering build peaks, and the kids are forced to stare fear straight in his face. And while they do see a terrifying clown, 2017's version of It understands that their true challenge comes in dealing with their own worst fears reflected back at them.

Burning Questions from the 2018 Oscars

Did you think you had the wrong channel?

Wouldn't a black and white opening be more appropriate the year that The Artist was nominated?

Does anyone remember The Artist?

Isn't it nice to start the show at a decent time?

Can we end it at one? 

Were you counting down the seconds until Kimmel mentioned last year's envelope fiasco?

Did you think that would come before or after he joked about the #MeToo movement?

Wasn't his line about Trump liking the first third of Get Out pretty good?

What's with that stage setup?

And all those crystals?

Tribute to Superman's home planet?

How about Sam Rockwell's Philip Seymour Hoffman shout-out?

Shouldn't they really tell the winners to "get out" if their speeches run long?

Between that and the jet ski bribe, have we finally found the key to shortening the show?

Wouldn't it be sad if Darkest Hour couldn't win Hair and Makeup with only two other nominees?

Wouldn't it also be sad if a movie about costume design didn't win Best Costume Design?

Is this the first year I haven't seen any of the nominated documentaries?

Was I thrilled that BOTH Roger Ebert and Back to the Future made it into that montage?

Aren't you glad they're not still attempting to joke about not being able to tell the difference between sound editing and mixing?

When Eiza and Ansel came out, didn't you just know Baby Driver wasn't winning?

Full Sail University shout-out?

Was this the first year a man has ever hosted the Scientific and Technical Awards?

Why is film critic Kim Morgan sitting with Guillermo del Toro?

Does del Toro now HAVE to win Best Director just so we can find out what's going on with that?

Isn't that Coco song catchy?

If a film has "Woman" in its title, isn't it a pretty safe bet this year?

Wouldn't you vote for Laurie Metcalf just on that one Lady Bird clip alone?

Is "I did it all by myself" the best opening line of an Oscar acceptance speech?

Isn't it strange beyond belief how Tonya Harding is now suddenly some kind of victim?

Not a question, but Mark Hamill!

Not a question, but BB-8!

Isn't Kobe glad he was on the Lakers?

How about that shot at FOX News?

So, I guess they fit Sufjan Stevens onto the show after all?

Kind of?

I know the show runs long, but isn't it a little extreme for Kimmel to be ushering the audience out already?

You mean people actually went to see A Wrinkle in Time?

They didn't seem too upset it was interrupted, did they?

Is Ellen DeGeneres going to sue Kimmel for stealing her act?

Poetic justice that this guy mispronounced Tiffany Haddish's name?

Is that the first winner to accept their Oscar with sign language?

Haven't you always wanted to see a short film "inspired by Walmart delivery boxes"?

Didn't you just know we'd get an entire montage dedicated to #TimesUp?

But didn't Kumail Nanjiani's humorous insights make it work?

Did it convey just how strong the love for Get Out is?

If that didn't do it, then Peele's screenplay victory must have, right?

Gal Gadot is all over this show, isn't she?

ROGER DEAKINS WINS!

How many times do you think he's rehearsed that speech over the past decade?

Is it unfair to say he should already have 5 or 6 of these statues?

Seriously, what's the deal with Kim Morgan and del toro?

Were you worried they'd have to bump the In Memoriam montage from the show?

Don't we say that every year?

Should we just pinch ourselves now that Eddie Vedder is covering Tom Petty's "Room at the Top" on the Oscars?

Isn't that a perfect match of song and artist?

Did you know it's my third all-time favorite Petty song?

Can you guess the other two?

So, does that make up for not nominating Eddie Vedder for Into The Wild?

Um, Adam West?

So, I checked imdb and apparently Kim Morgan is co-writing del Toro's remake of Nightmare Alley, so that explains that... right?

Is this del Toro's year or what?

Can you wake me after Gary Oldman wins his Oscar?

Wait, where's Casey Affleck?

On second thought, maybe don't answer that?

Where's Jack Nicholson when you need him?

On that note, didn't there seem to be a noticeable lack of stars in the audience this year?

Did the producers give that away when they kept cutting away to Timothée Chalamet and his mom?

Didn't Chalamet look legitimately thrilled to be there? 

Wasn't Foster and Lawrence's Meryl Streep bit pretty funny?

Were you bracing yourself for McDormand's speech?

Was the audience reaching for their seatbelts?

Waterhouse under the bridge?

Don't you love the story that Beatty knew the winner was wrong, and then just gave the envelope to Dunaway to throw her under the bus?

Do you miss when there were just five Best Picture nominees?

Beatty didn't seem to get any better at opening the envelope, did he?

After going 21 for 24 with predictions, do I regret not entering an Oscar pool?

Kimmel really has this Oscar hosting thing nailed down now, doesn't he?

Didn't you just know Helen Mirren and the jet ski would reappear at the end of the night?

What do you say about a show that was really well-produced, but sort of boring and uneventful?

After last year's, wouldn't anything be?

2018 Oscar Predictions

While resigning ourselves to the inevitability that few moments during this Sunday's 90th Annual Academy Awards will come close to matching the shocking final minutes of last year's show, I have only wish for the 2018 Oscars: That they keep it about the movies.  We've had about four to six months of #MeToo, #TimesUp and Harvey Weinstein so I don't think it's asking too much, aside from the opening monologue, for the industry to spend one night focusing all their attention on celebrating and appreciating the onscreen work we've seen in the past year. That is, after all, why the Oscars exist. And boy do we badly need that celebration now, with the gap between the tastes of the general moviegoing public and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences growing by the day.

With the notable exception of box office juggernaut Get Out, there's really no 2017 film listed here that came close to permeating the culture or causing even casual chatter among the general population. And there's still the chance that may not even go home with anything. Movies just aren't at the forefront right now, but that's okay since there's still no better night all year for those who love good ones. That one of the best Oscar hosts in years, Jimmy Kimmel earned the call back can only be viewed as a positive, as is the recent news that Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway will be returning to the scene of the crime, attempting again to present Best Picture after last year's ridiculously entertaining debacle.

Speaking of which, this might be the most wide open Best Picture category we've ever had, with as many as three films or four films all with a solid chance of taking home the gold. Unfortunately for me, it could also mean owning the embarrassment of incorrectly predicting the biggest category for the third consecutive year. So, as I struggle to play catch up again and cram in viewings of all these nominees, here's hoping they build on last year's momentum to deliver another solid, well produced broadcast that doesn't run over 5 hours long. Below are my predictions, along with some comments on the major categories. As usual, I'm reserving the right to adjust these picks leading up to the start of the show.


*Predicted Winners


Best Animated Feature:
“The Boss Baby,” Tom McGrath, Ramsey Ann Naito
“The Breadwinner,” Nora Twomey, Anthony Leo
“Coco,” Lee Unkrich, Darla K. Anderson
“Ferdinand,” Carlos Saldanha
“Loving Vincent,” Dorota Kobiela, Hugh Welchman, Sean Bobbitt, Ivan Mactaggart, Hugh Welchman

Best Animated Short:
“Dear Basketball,” Glen Keane, Kobe Bryant 
“Garden Party,” Victor Caire, Gabriel Grapperon
“Lou,” Dave Mullins, Dana Murray
“Negative Space,” Max Porter, Ru Kuwahata
“Revolting Rhymes,” Jakob Schuh, Jan Lachauer

Best Documentary Feature:

“Abacus: Small Enough to Jail,” Steve James, Mark Mitten, Julie Goldman
“Faces Places,” JR, Agnès Varda, Rosalie Varda
“Icarus,” Bryan Fogel, Dan Cogan
“Last Men in Aleppo,” Feras Fayyad, Kareem Abeed, Soren Steen Jepersen
“Strong Island,” Yance Ford, Joslyn Barnes

Best Documentary Short Subject:
“Edith+Eddie,” Laura Checkoway, Thomas Lee Wright
“Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405,” Frank Stiefel
“Heroin(e),” Elaine McMillion Sheldon, Kerrin Sheldon 
“Knife Skills,” Thomas Lennon
 “Traffic Stop,” Kate Davis, David Heilbroner

Best Live Action Short Film:
“DeKalb Elementary,” Reed Van Dyk
“The Eleven O’Clock,” Derin Seale, Josh Lawson
“My Nephew Emmett,” Kevin Wilson, Jr.
“The Silent Child,” Chris Overton, Rachel Shenton
“Watu Wote/All of Us,” Katja Benrath, Tobias Rosen

Best Foreign Language Film:
“A Fantastic Woman” (Chile)
“The Insult” (Lebanon)
“Loveless” (Russia)
“On Body and Soul (Hungary) 
“The Square” (Sweden)

Best Film Editing:
“Baby Driver,” Jonathan Amos, Paul Machliss
“Dunkirk,” Lee Smith
“I, Tonya,” Tatiana S. Riegel
“The Shape of Water,” Sidney Wolinsky
“Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,” Jon Gregory

Best Sound Editing:
“Baby Driver,” Julian Slater
“Blade Runner 2049,” Mark Mangini, Theo Green
“Dunkirk,” Alex Gibson, Richard King
“The Shape of Water,” Nathan Robitaille, Nelson Ferreira
“Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” Ren Klyce, Matthew Wood

Best Sound Mixing:
“Baby Driver,” Mary H. Ellis, Julian Slater, Tim Cavagin
“Blade Runner 2049,” Mac Ruth, Ron Bartlett, Doug Hephill
“Dunkirk,” Mark Weingarten, Gregg Landaker, Gary A. Rizzo
“The Shape of Water,” Glen Gauthier, Christian Cooke, Brad Zoern
“Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” Stuart Wilson, Ren Klyce, David Parker, Michael Semanick

Best Production Design:
“Beauty and the Beast,” Sarah Greenwood; Katie Spencer
“Blade Runner 2049,” Dennis Gassner, Alessandra Querzola
“Darkest Hour,” Sarah Greenwood, Katie Spencer
“Dunkirk,” Nathan Crowley, Gary Fettis
“The Shape of Water,” Paul D. Austerberry, Jeffrey A. Melvin, Shane Vieau

Best Original Score:

“Dunkirk,” Hans Zimmer
“Phantom Thread,” Jonny Greenwood
“The Shape of Water,” Alexandre Desplat
“Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” John Williams
“Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,” Carter Burwell

Best Original Song:
“Mighty River” from “Mudbound,” Mary J. Blige
“Mystery of Love” from “Call Me by Your Name,” Sufjan Stevens
“Remember Me” from “Coco,” Kristen Anderson-Lopez, Robert Lopez
“Stand Up for Something” from “Marshall,” Diane Warren, Common 
“This Is Me” from “The Greatest Showman,” Benj Pasek, Justin Paul

Best Makeup and Hair:
“Darkest Hour,” Kazuhiro Tsuji, David Malinowski, Lucy Sibbick 
“Victoria and Abdul,” Daniel Phillips and Lou Sheppard
“Wonder,” Arjen Tuiten

Best Costume Design:
“Beauty and the Beast,” Jacqueline Durran
“Darkest Hour,” Jacqueline Durran
“Phantom Thread,” Mark Bridges
“The Shape of Water,” Luis Sequeira
“Victoria and Abdul,” Consolata Boyle

Best Visual Effects:

“Blade Runner 2049,” John Nelson, Paul Lambert, Richard R. Hoover, Gerd Nefzer
“Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2,” Christopher Townsend, Guy Williams, Jonathan Fawkner, Dan Sudick
“Kong: Skull Island,” Stephen Rosenbaum, Jeff White, Scott Benza, Mike Meinardus
“Star Wars: The Last Jedi,”  Ben Morris, Mike Mulholland, Chris Corbould, Neal Scanlan
“War for the Planet of the Apes,” Joe Letteri, Dan Lemmon, Daniel Barrett, Joel Whist

Best Cinematography:
“Blade Runner 2049,” Roger Deakins
“Darkest Hour,” Bruno Delbonnel
“Dunkirk,” Hoyte van Hoytema
"Mudbound," Rachel Morrison
“The Shape of Water,” Dan Laustsen

Best Adapted Screenplay:
“Call Me by Your Name,” James Ivory
“The Disaster Artist,” Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber
“Logan,” Scott Frank, James Mangold and Michael Green
“Molly’s Game,” Aaron Sorkin
“Mudbound,” Virgil Williams and Dee Rees

This is where they honor Call Me by Your Name. There's no other place to do it and the rest of the nominees in this field aren't strong enough competition. The Disaster Artist's temporary momentum was thwarted by the Franco scandal, Molly's Game was met with mixed to tepid reactions, most are still more enamored with Mudbound's cinematography than its script and Logan becomes the first superhero film to score a screenplay nod, which will be reward enough in the minds of voters. Further tipping the scales in James Ivory's favor is the fact that the legendary Merchant Ivory co-founder is almost 90 years old and awarding him here for decades of top shelf work as a director, writer and producer allows the Academy to give him a more meaningful Oscar than the honorary one he would have surely received otherwise.

Best Original Screenplay:
“The Big Sick,” Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani
“Get Out,” Jordan Peele
“Lady Bird,” Greta Gerwig
“The Shape of Water,” Guillermo del Toro, Vanessa Taylor
“Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,” Martin McDonagh

*The second closest race of the night and a potentially major clue as to the eventual Best Picture winner later that night. Or maybe not. The Big Sick stands no chance, sticking out like a sore thumb among these heavy hitters. Any of the remaining four can win, but it stands to reason that Get Out and Three Billboards are the frontrunners since most admired The Shape of Water for reasons more related to its acting and directing than screenplay. Still, it's a serious threat just on the sheer number of nominations and respect voters have for del Toro. There's a legitimate possibility Lady Bird could leave empty handed so this might be their only chance to reward Gerwig, with the added benefit of a woman winning a writing reward, which rarely happens. It's hard to imagine the Academy not wanting to give this to McDonagh since he missed a Director nomination and wrote a hell of a part for McDormand. But if anything can beat it, it's Peele's script for Get Out. This one's a tough call.   

Best Supporting Actress:
Mary J. Blige, “Mudbound”
Allison Janney, “I, Tonya”
Lesley Manville, “Phantom Thread”
Laurie Metcalf, “Lady Bird” 
Octavia Spencer, “The Shape of Water”

*Most were surprised, but delighted, that both Lesley Manville and Mary J. Blige made the cut, and the same can be said for Octavia Spencer. But this all comes down to Allison Janey vs. Laurie Metcalf in a battle between two talented, highly respected TV and stage actresses whose careers have followed a somewhat similar trajectory. Metcalf's in the more warmly received film and got better reviews for her performance in Lady Bird, a turn most believe is underrated, even at this late stage. For a while, it really did seem like she would take this, but now it's looking more like a great breakthrough that will undoubtedly keep her on the big screen radar for the foreseeable future. Janney's simply more popular among voters and has the type of scenery chomping, monster villain role the Academy tends to gravitate toward. In their minds, more acting means better acting, which should lead to a reasonably predictable win for the long overdue actress and I, Tonya's only Oscar of the night. 


Best Supporting Actor:
Willem Dafoe, “The Florida Project”
Woody Harrelson, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”
Richard Jenkins, “The Shape of Water”
Christopher Plummer, “All the Money in the World”
Sam Rockwell, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”

*Plummer's nomination feels entirely like a further indictment of Kevin Spacey and respect for the acting legend stepping into that role at such short notice. No one's talked about the actual performance more than any of the film's scandals, and that Plummer recently won in this category won't help him. Jenkins may have been great in The Shape of Water, but he's hardly the first or second thing mentioned when people talk about the picture, with many even assuming Michael Shannon would get his slot. Harrelson's chances diminish next to flashier Three Billboards co-star and likely winner Sam Rockwell, giving voters an opportunity to finally reward one of our most prolific, underappreciated actors for a highly controversial, but well respected performance. His closest competition was Willem Dafoe, but The Florida Project has really stalled, to the point that few are even still discussing him as a serious threat to upset anymore.  

Best Actress:
Sally Hawkins, “The Shape of Water”
Frances McDormand, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”
Margot Robbie, “I, Tonya”
Saoirse Ronan, “Lady Bird”
Meryl Streep, "The Post"

*Saoirse Ronan seemingly had all the momentum going for Lady Bird, so you have to wonder what happened. Is the movie too slight for voters?  After honoring Brie Larson and Emma Stone in this category in consecutive years, is the Academy suddenly tired of honoring the young ingenue? Is McDormand just too respected within the industry? It could be any combination of these, including the possibility they just simply like her performance as a grieving mother out for justice in Three Billboards better. All of this will be enough, and she'll win her second Oscar. While Ronan's still the most serious threat to that, Hawkins isn't far behind. Streep's nomination feels more deserved than gifted this time around, but she won't win since The Post fizzled. The outlier is Margot Robbie for her transformative, career-altering turn as Tonya Harding, but she probably has a better shot at actually landing a triple axel than taking home the gold in a field this strong.    

Best Actor:
Timothée Chalamet, “Call Me by Your Name”
Daniel Day-Lewis, “Phantom Thread”
Daniel Kaluuya, “Get Out”
Gary Oldman, “Darkest Hour"
Denzel Washington, “Roman J. Israel, Esq.”

*Washington, deserving as he may be, is only here because James Franco isn't. It would take an incredible surge of Get Out goodwill to carry Kaluuya to the win. Call Me by your Name has lost a lot of steam heading into the final stretch, and for Chalamet, the nomination will have to be enough, kickstarting a promising career, but depriving him the honor of becoming the youngest Best Actor winner in history. Day-Lewis is always a threat, but his recent retirement announcement makes him more so in a field that's actually kind of weak. Gary Oldman is clearly the lock of the night for his immersive disappearing act as Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, offering voters the opportunity to honor the career of a long overdue talent playing a historical figure in the kind of biographic movie they love. It's a foregone conclusion, in what's easily the least interesting, most predictable category of the night.  

Best Director:
"Dunkirk," Christopher Nolan
 “Get Out,” Jordan Peele
"Lady Bird," Greta Gerwig
“Phantom Thread,” Paul Thomas Anderson
“The Shape of Water,” Guillermo del Toro

*The combination of Del Toro having the coveted DGA win and the most nominated film should spell victory for the well like and respected Shape of Water director. While an upset in this category is entirely possible, it isn't likely, as the Best Picture field is far murkier and more difficult to call. Picture and Director have been splitting in recent years, so the big question of the evening is whether the del Toro love will be enough to carry his monster movie romance over the considerable hump of genre bias. If he were to lose, the most likely spoilers are Nolan, Peele, or Gerwig. Either of the latter two would send a serious message about the Academy's progressiveness in the wake of industry turmoil. We anticipated Gerwig would one day arrive here, just not in this category, and Peele delivered something few knew he had in him. In these cases, it really does feel as if the nominations alone are victories, and well deserved ones at that. And you know a field is strong when America's greatest living director, Paul Thomas Anderson, has the least chance of winning. That his movies will never be considered "Oscar friendly" might be the highest compliment paid to him.

Best Picture:
“Call Me by Your Name”
“Darkest Hour”
 “Dunkirk” 
“Get Out”
“Lady Bird” 
“Phantom Thread”
“The Post” 
“The Shape of Water”
“Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” 

*Get Out doesn't have an editing nomination, Three Billboards doesn't have a Director nomination and The Shape of Water, despite its 13 nomination haul, doesn't have that coveted SAG Ensemble nod (the devastating statistic that took down La La Land last year). Dunkirk and Lady Bird are still in this, even as the former suffers from a lack of acting nods and the fact that the days of a war movie automatically winning Best Picture are long gone, as the Academy's makeup has changed considerably over the past few years. Despite widespread love for it, Lady Bird just won't have the heft and substance to go all the way in the minds of voters. The Post, Darkest Hour and Call Me by Your Name are the three with virtually no chance, their campaigns peaking months ago as they limp to the finish line for the closest Best Picture race we've had in at least a decade.

Get Out can win with this preferential balloting system because those who love it, really, really love it and will put it down as their number one. If it does win, that's why. Plus, how many movies are still being talked about well over a full year after their release?! Still, it's horror, and while the Academy's evolved, that's just a bridge too far for them. Three Billboards overcame a fair amount of backlash and controversy to become even stronger and timelier than it was upon its initial release. And similarly, those who love it, really love it, shooting it to the top of many ballots. But it's polarizing, and I just can't get past the fact it doesn't have that directing nomination. 

Argo may have overcome that lack of a directing nod, but Three Billboards doesn't have the Affleck factor at play. It's a lot more difficult to digest and we know the winner needs to be universally beloved. That's why if I go down again in this category, I'll do it being safe and statistically sound by picking The Shape of Water. I'm going against the grain somewhat by anticipating an unexpected match with Picture and Director, but 13 nominations is just too much, especially since the Academy's proven they'll occasionally go for fantasy, if warranted. This should be one of those rare cases, as del Toro's film seems to have the least going against it. Sometimes, that's what matters most.

Battle of the Sexes

Directors: Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris
Starring: Emma Stone, Steve Carell, Andrea Riseborough, Sarah Silverman, Bill Pullman, Alan Cumming, Elisabeth Shue, Austin Stowell, Natalie Morales, Eric Christian Olsen, Jessica McNamee, Fred Armisen, Chris Parnell, John C. McGinley
Running Time: 121 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The best moment in Battle of the Sexes comes when Billie Jean King confronts Lawn Tennis Association head Jack Kramer about his plans to be in the commentary booth for her upcoming match against challenger and professional hustler Bobby Riggs. Having already been kicked off the tour for demanding women players receive equal prize money, she argues that while Riggs is entertaining the masses and raising his profile by playing an over-the-top character, the damage Kramer's inflicting with his sexist attitude is actually "real."

That meta observation isn't just true, but also conveys a certain self-awareness about the match and Riggs' place in it that the rest of the film often lacks. And that's the tough part about retroactively heaping such cultural significance on a sports event that largely revolved around laughs and entertainment. On one hand taking itself entirely seriously, while still trying to be a big joke at the same time, Battle of the Sexes is frequently a tale of two conflicting stories.

The stakes for Billie Jean were high and real as we're tirelessly reminded, but what Riggs was doing came closer to the tennis version of Andy Kaufman wrestling women. Far from a sexist pig, he was a performance artist and opportunist who happened to be really skilled at playing the role required of him. He was also a family man struggling with vices and addictions who in reality respected his top ranked female opponent. And not just as a player, but as a person. Unfortunately, the movie isn't about him. It's about King's fight for female equality, a notion the script underlines and highlights in the most heavy-handed way possible, spending nearly every scene drilling into our minds just how important it is. The problem is that no one involved knew that at the time, making the film's voice too often sound as if it's coming from 2017 instead of 1973.

Getting many important details right in its painstaking recreation of the era through costuming, production design and the casting of even the smallest roles, you want to scream in frustration that the script supporting it isn't better. This even looks like it was shot in the early seventies, containing believable tennis scenes and a lead actress who provides one of the worthier depictions of a professional player we've seen yet on screen, topped only by her better cast co-star. Of course, that's not saying much considering the sport's shoddy cinematic treatment in the past, but this was never going to be easy biographical material to adapt, as the end result shows.

It's 1972 when top-ranked women's tennis player Billie Jean King (Academy Award winner Emma Stone) and her brash manager Gladys Helman (Sarah Silverman) complain to Jack Kramer (Bill Pullman) that the women's tournament prize money is an eighth of the men's despite equal television ratings. Citing his belief that women players are physically inferior as a defense, he remains unwilling to budge on the terms, causing the women to form their own tour sponsored by Virginia Slims. Billie Jean's also going through some personal issues, coming to grips with her own homosexuality as she embarks on an an affair with hairdresser Marilyn Barnett (Andrea Riseborough) that's soon jeopardizing her marriage to husband, Larry King (Austin Stowell).

Meanwhile, 55-year-old retired champion Bobby Riggs (Academy Award nominee Steve Carell) is struggling to keep his marriage to wealthy wife Priscilla (Elisabeth Shue) afloat due to a gambling addiction when he suddenly gets an idea. He'll challenge the top women's player to a match, which is sure to net him tons of money and publicity, while also affirming male dominance in the sport. After initially declining, Billie Jean accepts when Riggs handily disposes of her biggest competition, the legendary Margaret Court (Jessica McNamee). Both Billie Jean and Bobby begin to train, with their upcoming three out of five set match at the Houston Astrodome taking on a level of pressure and anticipation neither anticipated. And most of that pressure is on King.

One of the big surprises to be found is in the humanity both actors bring to their roles, arguably making their real-life counterparts more complicated and nuanced than they probably were. For those unsure Stone would be up to the rigors of accurately depicting one of the greatest tennis players of all-time of any gender, she clearly got into the shape necessary for the part and looks and carries herself like a top athlete would. And whatever photographic tricks they may have used in the playing scenes worked since there's rarely an awkward moment when she has a racquet in her hand, which is kind of a shock.

It's almost beside the point how well Stone actually captures Billie Jean King the person, since this is about as close as it gets to an uncastable role. No one really looks like her, whoever they get will be accused of being too "pretty," and they'll have somehow work around the chosen actress' lack of experience in the sport. Emma certainly has all those things working against her, but somewhat overcomes them by zeroing in on King's determined spunk and spirit, which are qualities the actress never had problems conveying. In fact, if you had told me going in that Stone would be more believable as a top tennis player than a semi-closeted lesbian, there's no chance I'd believe it. But that's exactly how it comes across, no thanks to some writing that makes her and Riseborough's job considerably more difficult.

Simon Beoufoy's script paints Billie Jean's relationship with Marilyn in the broadest strokes possible, as most of their scenes together feature dialogue exchanges that are downright cringeworthy in their obviousness. While King's sexual preference was tennis' biggest open secret and undoubtedly needs inclusion in any accurate depiction of her life, Dayton and Faris seem to be going out of their way to prove they're not afraid to tackle it. We're reminded almost as frequently that she's living a "shameful" double life as we are that women are viewed as socially and genetically inferior to men. No one's doubting this all happened, but being "reminded" in this film most definitely means being told over and over again, rather than necessarily shown.

What the movie does handle well is Billie Jean's husband Larry's defeated but begrudgingly supportive reaction to all this, as he loyally stands by his wife as she carries on an affair with another woman, knowing that any public confirmation of it will crush her image and career. The sight of Larry, slinking down the hotel hallway back to his own room in what looks like a familiar walk of shame says it all. He's always known.        

Everything involving Bobby Riggs is fantastic, mainly due to Carell's deceptively complex comedic performance, which sees him cleverly sidestepping the easy temptation of playing him as a buffoonish clown. The former doubles champ was no dummy and saw the dollar signs in challenging King and what that eventual showdown would mean for him and the sport. As an entertainer, he just "gets it", knowing he had to further amplify his larger-than-life persona to make this character work, regardless of the controversy it would spark. He provided the necessary contrast to Billie Jean, who took herself so seriously that she'd be easy for him to rattle, and for fans to rally behind.  He was also the Pete Rose of tennis in how his gambling addiction nearly overshadowed anything he did on the court. Well, except this.

In one of the film's funniest scenes, Riggs enters a "Gambler's Anonymous" meeting, loudly announcing that their real problem isn't that they gamble, but that they're simply no good at it. Scenes like these are juxtaposed with quieter ones of real regret as he laments that he can't be a better husband. Carell's so good at conveying that none of Riggs' many promises are empty, just simply impossible for him to keep because of who he is. His eventually estranged wife, well played by Elisabeth Shue, does accept that while he'll never be a dependable spouse, he's still a good father to their young son, Bobby Jr. (scene-stealing Cooper Friedman) despite his obvious character flaws.

If Billie Jean's story too often unironically plays as a public service announcement for women's rights, Riggs' carries no such agenda or baggage, and feels more real as a result. A dead ringer for the role physically, Carell goes so far as to capture Bobby's tiniest and strangest idiosyncrasies, in many ways making for a better Bobby Riggs than the man himself.

The primary concern going into this was just how much creative license it would take to believably pull off the big match and have it not look completely ridiculous. For those cringing at the thought of these two actors having to at least minimally recreate a top level tennis match, there's some good news in that it's match from over thirty years ago from which there's plenty of archival footage to draw.

The slower pace, a retro-looking TV feed and what would now be considered archaic equipment help in making what we see on screen appear no better or worse than what likely occurred. At points, it even looks like they slide in clips from the actual match, which is pretty clever. A dripping wet Riggs' refusal to take off his "Sugar Daddy" sponsored warm-up jacket despite looking ready to collapse of heat exhaustion is almost too perfect a metaphor. Except for the fact that it really happened. He does eventually take it off, before losing a little later.

Whether or not Riggs actually "lost" is an issue I hoped the script would explore as rumors have persisted for years that he threw the match, which would be just like him and the ultimate joke on everyone holding this up as a watershed cultural moment. It would also be kind of sad on a number levels, chief among them that the top-ranked women's player really couldn't defeat a retired gambling addict in his mid-fifties. Rest assured the filmmakers wouldn't dare touch the possibility of a fix with a ten-foot pole, making their intentions for this to be an inspirational story abundantly clear throughout.

A powerful moment comes at the end of the picture when both King and Riggs are sitting alone in their respective locker rooms after the match. In a strange way, history has proven that they both won that night. For what seems like a minute straight we see an emotionally and physically exhausted Billie Jean as she just breaks down, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Watching this, it occurred to me just how hard that is for an actress to believably pull off, becoming more convinced than ever that Stone's undeniably a great one. Whether she was the right choice for the part will likely be debated, but it's tough coming up with viable alternatives that would have brought more.

That aforementioned scene is real and raw, so much more effectively communicating what the movie was attempting to hammer into our heads with all the subtly of a sledgehammer. Of course, it's ruined shortly thereafter when a completely extraneous character played by Alan Cumming delivers a "this is the point of our movie" line that has to rank among the most embarrassing penned by an Oscar-winning screenwriter, if just on timing alone.

Movies that track the hard work and dedication that go into training for a sport, celebrate the spirit of competition, show an underdog overcoming the odds, or bask in the thrill of victory and agony of defeat, have become a rare breed. Think Rocky, Rudy, The Karate Kid, Breaking Away or even something like The Rookie or Miracle. While Battle of the Sexes was never going to be that kind of sports movie, it does make you question whether that genre still even exists, and why the bar wasn't set quite as high for this. We need to care about the person as a competitor before a message carrier in order for the social implications to carry weight. Instead, we find out what happens when everything that should be subtext becomes text, causing the professional athlete to be overshadowed by a reductive version of their own story.

Jigsaw

Directors: The Spierig Brothers
Starring: Matt Passmore, Callum Keith Rennie, Clé Bennett, Hannah Emily Anderson, Laura Vandervoort, Paul Braunstein, Mandela Van Peebles, Brittany Allen, Josiah Black, Tobin Bell
Running Time: 92 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

When the Saw franchise signed off after hitting rock bottom with 2010's awful Saw 3D: The Final Chapter, even the most devoted diehards had checked out and were happy to see it go. After enduring a string of lifeless sequels that drained whatever waning interest was left in the property, the general consensus was that a nice, long break sounded like a great idea. It was also generally understood that with this hiatus came the promise it would return at some point as either a sequel, prequel, reboot or something in between. And now with Jigsaw, it's clear they've decided to go with a straight up sequel.

If anything, this creates an opportunity for the series to recharge its batteries and head in a new creative direction while fans become nostalgic for these movies once again, their disdain for the inferior sequels erased by happy memories of seeing Billy The Puppet usher in a new Saw film each Halloween. We'd remember that initial concept of two strangers locked in a room, the test subjects of a sadistic cancer patient hell bent on dispensing his own form of moral justice as he counted down the calendar days left on his own life.

"Let's play a game..." is a phrase that's become the franchise's tagline before it took such a creative free fall in subsequent installments that even its star, Tobin Bell, sounded like he lost interest in delivering it. While the 2004 original was less a horror movie than an intense psychological thriller, most of its successors failed miserably at building on it, hanging their hats on the worst elements of what was initially a brilliant concept. Plot and narrative was abandoned in favor of trying to come up with the most disgusting and elaborate Jigsaw traps possible, each one more graphic than the last. And for a while, as bad as the movies had become, the shock value still worked and audiences ate it up. But what Saw couldn't survive was the dilemma each new writer and director kept trying to put a band-aid over in each sequel: The antagonist was dead.

Given all the capabilities of modern cinematic storytelling, killing off John Kramer/AKA Jigsaw in only the third film showed incredibly poor foresight, often forcing the filmmakers to embarrassingly work their way around it in the most absurd ways. By claiming it's about his "legacy," introducing hidden apprentices, shoehorning Bell into silly, nonsensical flashback scenes, and even littering the storylines with more law enforcement officials than most CBS procedurals. And that's not to mention physicians, ex-wives and insurance agents. Each sequel became overcrowded and needlessly convoluted to cover for Jigsaw's absence, straying further and further from its original concept. And because of this, EVERY MOVIE FELT THE SAME. That's the problem most in need of fixing.

So, the question becomes whether The Spierig Brothers concede by resting on the same tired formulas or try something different and adventurous with the benefit of a fresh, clean slate. The answer ends up being a little bit of both, which may not be enough sustain this moving forward. While they don't strip the whole thing down and dismantle it as I'd hoped, the good news is that it's the best written and directed post-Jigsaw death sequel yet, despite sharing some of the same issues its predecessors did. There were many points where it felt as if the movie would truly let go, before delivering a clever final twist that undeniably works in the moment, but also serves as an unfortunately painful reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

It's been 10 years since the death of the infamous Jigsaw killer, John Kramer (Bell), but when a perpetrator on the run finds himself cornered by police detectives Halloran (Callum Keith Rennie) and Hunt (Clé Bennett), he talks of being forced to play a "game" while activating a mysterious triggering device in his hand. They shoot, sending him into a coma. Meanwhile, five people are being held captive in a barn with buckets over their heads and a metal chain around their neck, dragging them toward a wall of spinning buzzsaws.

With each instructed by the voice of Jigsaw to make a blood sacrifice in order to move on, Carly (Brittany Allen), Ryan (Paul Braunstein), Mitch (Mandela Van Peebles) and Anna (Laura Vandervoort) are the four survivors. They move on to the next stage, with Jigsaw's voice informing them of more sadistic traps in store to repent for their lies and moral transgressions. As bodies turn up left and right, Halloran and Hunt start to wonder how any of this is possible, enlisting the help of ex-vet and forensic pathologist Logan (Matt Passmore) and his Jigsaw-obsessed assistant Eleanor (Hannah Emily Anderson). It isn't long before their suspicions turn to both, even with evidence piling up that the unthinkable is true and Jigsaw could still be very much alive.

It could be read as a promising sign that the film opens not in a dark, dingy, dirty basement as most previous entries have, but in broad daylight in the midst of a police chase. In simultaneously preparing us for something completely different while also invoking the terribly familiar, the scene serves a microcosm for what The Spierig Brothers plan on delivering over the next hour and a half. While the introduction of multiple law enforcement officers had me groaning, and it's a stretch to say they put an entirely fresh coat of paint on the franchise, there are noticeable changes and improvements that help wash the taste of those sequels out of our mouths. Action taking place in actual daylight would be one, as are more visually intriguing locations such as a rustic barn. It's nice to be able to clearly see everything that's going on for a change, knowing they can still deliver an occasionally dark basement when necessary.

With a slightly more polished look to the proceedings, this doesn't carry the same straight to VOD that too many of its sequels did. Smaller touches, like Jigsaw upgrading from a tape recorder to a flash drive, a new, improved look to Billy The Puppet and some tinkering with the infamous musical cue ("Zep's Theme") work really well. And while it's easy to criticize some of the decisions made, Josh Stolberg and Peter Goldfinger's script is uncharacteristically tight, especially when dealing with the four chosen subjects in Jigsaw's main trap. In that respect, it does bring the franchise back to basics, heavily focusing on what each have done to "deserve" what's happening to them. Their backstories don't disappoint, with the heinous nature of one arguably packing an even bigger punch than the intended twist that arrives in the final minutes. Unfortunately, what happens outside the barn is a bit of a mess, again overcomplicating a plot that should be relatively simple.

With two pairs of police detectives and medical examiners, it often feels like a chore keeping up with them and their motivations. And while the intention is clearly to set each of them up as a potential suspect or copycat killer, we've been around this block so many times that the mere thought of another Jigsaw apprentice is enough to turn me off of the franchise permanently. The more characters and suspects you have, the less they all mean, and if there's one serious fault in the screenplay, it's on a conceptual level, as the series continues to rub our faces in its inability to streamline anything. That said, this does the most competent job balancing this overabundance of characters, even if their presence complicates the story in ways it wouldn't with one strong law enforcement protagonist going up against Jigsaw.

While it may seem unreasonable to expect a Saw sequel to go to deep, cerebral places at this point, it still wouldn't hurt to minimize the excessive plotting in favor of a little more psychology. That all the characters have purposes that logically come to light by the end is somewhat of a miracle, but the series' many filmmakers have always forced themselves into a situation of cleaning up whatever narrative mistakes preceding entry left behind. That's why a completely fresh start was imperative, free from the tiresome formulas that ran the series into the ground.

For audiences, the police and forensic pathologists' exist in this installment to answer the only question on viewers' minds: Is Jigsaw actually alive? Obviously, revealing that constitutes too big a spoiler, but maybe the question should instead be whether that revelation would be any more or less damaging than the ridiculous ways they've had his "work" continue post-mortem, with increasingly diminished returns.

Without giving it all away, this is Tobin Bell's most purposeful outing in a while and his seemingly more motivated performance reflects it. He came to play this time and isn't relegated to the requisite "blink and you'll miss him" flashback cameo that's made each sequel appearance less essential than  his last. While no one would claim the movies are known for their acting, Bell is consistently the exception, his understanding of John Kramer's psychological motivations creepily filling in the blanks where the writing often fails him.

With more to work with here, the screenplay provides a reason for Bell's presence and he sticks around long enough to make it count. If the layoff reminded us of anything, it's that so many of the franchise's failings can be directly tied to the increased reduction of his role in the sequels. This partially corrects that, and the performances that surround him are mostly suitable for the series standard, with Vandervoort and Passmore doing the most with what they're given.  

There's legitimate suspense in the idea that Jigsaw's grave could be dug up, and in the increasingly likely scenario he won't be in it, teasing us with the possibility this franchise may be forced to do something different. But the tension is short-lived, as the focus again moves away from Jigsaw to the cops and forensic pathologists trying to implicate and expose each other, as the true purpose of that buckethead game starts fully revealing itself. Taken for what it is, it's all pretty well constructed, capped off with a final twist that's reminiscent of the first sequel in how it toys with audience perceptions of what we're exactly seeing.

While nothing that occurs in the third act is poorly written or an outright disappointment, it does feel like business as usual, revealing nearly all the major changes to be cosmetic and superficial. In the end, it's still all about how gruesome and graphic the traps are, how high the body count, and the number of poorly developed ancillary characters introduced to extend the series. In other words, we're right back where we started. And it shouldn't be lost on anyone that there's a comfort in that for both the franchise's producers and its fans, who generally want to know that what they're getting into doesn't differ to much from what they originally signed on for.

Going in, there was a certain curiosity in finding out whether there's still a place for Saw in 2017 and whether doing this again all these years later would be like hopping back on Billy The Puppet's tricycle. For both better and worse, it is. And yet again we're left scratching our heads at how they'll possibly be able squeeze even more out of this property, as there are apparently more sequels planned. But we should just know by now to stop questioning how they continue suckering us into gladly returning for more punishment.                                                 

2018 Oscar Nominations (Reaction and Analysis)

Well, the 90th Annnual Academy Award nominations were announced early this morning by co-presenters Tiffany Haddish and Andy Serkis from the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in Beverly Hills and represented a return to the original format after last year's disastrous, anticlimactic online unveiling. While being glad Academy President Cheryl Boone Isaacs took the hint and went back to what worked, I can't say I enjoyed the butchering of all the nominees' names and jokey, stand-up atmosphere that again revealed the Academy's desperate, yearly obsession with be seen as relevant and plugged in to pop culture. With Haddish, they found a current, newsworthy entertainer to do it, while accidentally creating that inevitable moment of awkwardness when she wasn't nominated for Supporting Actress. But that was a longshot at best. The announcement was what it was, and there were very few surprises or outrageous snubs. There's definitely nothing as undeserved or appalling as Jennifer Lawrence's recent "Worst Actress" Razzie nod for literally one of best performances of the year in mother! 

Say what you will about the Academy, but as frustrating as they sometimes are, at least they don't just count box receipts and call it a day. They did a mostly respectable job here and while none of these categories will set ratings ablaze, how much of a goal is that anymore? The Oscars never did, nor pretended to. But it would be nice if they permeated the cultural conversation a little more, as they did last year with their strongest show in decades, culminating with that shocking Best Picture mix-up. What they have consistently done is nominate and reward respectable work, and this year again appears to be no exception.  Read the full list of nominees here and check out my take on things below.

- Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water leads the pack with 13 nominations, which seems like an absurd amount, even accounting for the technical awards. Sorry, but it does. Dunkirk and Three Billboards follow with 7 and 8, with both standing a better chance at wining Best Picture. How strange is that? After last year, it's already been established anything can happen. The Florida Project and I, Tonya don't make the cut, but you can't seriously believe the Academy would consider nominating Wonder Woman for Best Picture. But that it didn't get any nominations at all in any category is a bit surprising.

- Nine Best Picture nominees in total and I still say they should go back to five and make each choice mean more. Phantom Thread and Darkest Hour are the two surprises here, as everything else went according to plan. Both of those were primarily viewed as vehicles for their lead actors until this morning. And anyone who thought The Post wouldn't get in was kidding themselves.

- Remember when Greta Gerwig was set to star in that now shelved How I Met Your Mother spin-off a couple of years ago? Me neither. I guess everything does happen for a reason, and while a lot people have been waiting a while for this nomination, few could have guessed it would come in the Director category, making her only the fifth woman to ever earn that honor. And it's awesome. Jordan Peele's in for Get Out and the sole surprise (if you can call it that) is Paul Thomas Anderson's nod for Phantom Thread, which got a lot more love than anticipated. Somewhat conspicuous by his absence is The Post's Steven Spielberg, but with five slots to fill, there was always a good chance he'd be squeezed out. More surprising are the omissions of Three Billboard's Martin McDonagh and Call Me By Your Name's Luca Guadagnino.

- Let's just say it: Denzel Washington probably wouldn't have gotten a Best Actor nod for Roman J. Israel, Esq. if not for the recent sexual misconduct allegations against James Franco, who was all but a lock for The Disaster Artist a few weeks ago. Tom Hanks also found himself out in the cold for The Post, as most of the attention seemed focused on Streep's performance. Denzel's joined by Daniel Kaluuya for Get Out, Timothée Chalamet for Call Me By Your Name and, of course, the recently retiring Daniel Day-Lewis for Phantom Thread. Either way, Gary Oldman has this in the bag for Darkest Hour. He's due.

- No surprises or snubs whatsoever in Best Actress. A month or two ago it seemed as if Saoirse Ronan had this sewn up for Lady Bird. Now it's Frances McDormand's to lose for Three Billboards, but still closer than some think. We have our obligatory Streep nomination, but at least this time it's a role of substance in a picture most agree is worthy. No Jessica Chastain for Molly's Game, but that was considered a bit of a stretch to begin with. Wouldn't it be something if Margot Robbie won for I, Tonya?

- One of the few shocks, and a somewhat under-reported one, was the great Richard Jenkins' Supporting Actor nomination for The Shape of Water. No one saw that coming and it was probably the biggest sign that movie would be cleaning up this morning. Christopher Plummer still gets in for All The Money in the World despite all the endless controversy swirling around that film. No Armie Hammer for Call Me By Your Name though. That's a noteworthy exclusion, and maybe the biggest snub of the morning.

-In what's shaping up to be the big Supporting Actress showdown between respected TV veterans Allison Janney and Laurie Metcalf, Octavia Spencer shockingly slides in for The Shape of Water, while Mary J. Blige and Lesley Manville also get surprise nominations for Mudbound and Phantom Thread, respectively. Holly Hunter missing out for The Big Sick could be considered the only full-blown snub in a category infamous for throwing us some curve balls on both nomination morning and Oscar night.

- Logan becomes the first superhero film nominated for Best Original Screenplay while Mudbound's Rachel Morrison becomes the first female Best Cinematography nominee.