Black Mass isn't a black mark on anyone's career, but I had hoped the film would be more dramatically satisfying. The film lacks a clear dramatic arc, leaving the characters to continue doing pretty much what they have been doing during the period shown on screen (primarily the 1970s-1980s). They do not become better or worse people, whether they suffer tragedy or gain success. In this film, Benedict Cumberbatch becomes politician Billy Bulger, younger brother of career criminal Jimmy "Whitey" Bulger (Johnny Depp), who enters an alliance with FBI agent John Connolly (Joel Edgerton).
To say that Cumberbatch consistently plays a politician isn't a negative assessment of his performance. His character, undoubtedly like real-life former senator Billy Bulger, knows how to smile while sizing up those around him and smoothly steering conversations to his advantage. As Boston news station WBUR noted in a June 2013 article, "Whitey and Billy: A Tale of Two Boston Brothers," Billy Bulger was "a master at the exercise of political power"—and that is exactly the way Cumberbatch portrays him.
Bulger smiles benignly at John Connolly, the former kid from South Boston who "made good" as an FBI agent, as the two sip drinks in an exclusive setting. Connolly jokes that he doesn't know what to call the senator, whether he can still refer to him as Billy. Bulger repays the compliment in kind by praising Connolly's status in the FBI, but his eyes indicate that he knows exactly where Connolly's familiar flattery is leading.
During lunch, when Connolly pitches an alliance between the FBI and the Bulger brothers, especially with Jimmy, Cumberbatch's Billy is a master of deflection, and he never raises his voice. Always the politician aware that he is being watched in public places, Bulger deftly turns Connolly away and states decisively (as fans have seen in the trailer) that "Jimmy’s business is Jimmy’s business."
Whether Billy Bulger is strutting down the street in the St. Patrick's Day Parade, brilliantly concluding a rousing speech to his Irish constituents, or sitting at the head of the table at a family Christmas dinner, he always appears solicitous, congenial, and calm—the perfect combination for the man who would sit at the head of the Massachusetts State Senate longer than anyone to date.
If not for one brief scene and a couple of lines not key to the plot, Cumberbatch's performance might seem one note (like many of the supporting actors' in this Depp-driven vehicle). While the Bulger brothers' mother soundly beats Jimmy at cards (he fondly calls her out for cheating), aproned Billy cooks dinner. Just as he brings the meal to the table, Mrs. Bulger relates a grotesque story about a woman, a few streets over, whose body had been found in her home weeks after her death. Her graphic description grosses out Billy, who protests his mother's anecdote just as they're ready to eat. In this brief moment, Billy becomes a real person instead of the façade of placid politician. In the family home, sitting down to dinner with his brother and mother, Billy can be himself. He can complain to his mother and wrinkle his nose at the inappropriate conversation while sarcastically asking if everyone now wants to eat.
I was glad for this scene, because it indicates that, among whatever else was filmed and later trimmed from the two-hour film, something of Cumberbatch's portrayal that is real and unexpected makes it to the final cut. Sure, his performance illustrates Billy's political shrewdness and his loyalty to his older brother, but his role is never developed into what might have been an intriguing study of the brothers' rule of the city. As expected, Cumberbatch delivers a good performance (despite fueling debate about the consistency or quality of his accent), but it is not necessarily a highly memorable one. The dinner table scene, however, shows me a different side to Billy Bulger, one that hints that Cumberbatch can do more to show the man behind the façade. He is good with the material he is given, but he is not given all that much to do.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Oscar Watch 2015: Benedict Cumberbatch, Actor, The Imitation Game
Congratulations, Benedict Cumberbatch. I raise my coffee mug in a toast to your Oscar nomination.
This morning I completed an annual ritual: sitting in bed (usually in my jammies) with a huge mug of coffee, eyes focused only on the Academy Award nominations announced live on television. Typically I squeal a bit if a Hobbit or an actor I admire receives a nomination, I take a few notes for one of my writing projects, and then I go to work. That was pretty much what happened this morning (although I haven't completed the "going to my office" phase yet)--but I was more anxious about the nominations than I've been since The Return of the King noms a decade ago.
Given The Imitation Game's shut out at the Golden Globes a few nights ago--and, granted, the lead actor field was crowded with excellent actors who gave brilliant performances--I was not quite so confident that all the film's Oscar promotion, Cumberbatch's exponentially increasing frequent flyer miles, and television interviews would get the desired result. Of course, the Golden Globes and Academy Awards have different voting membership, and success with one doesn't necessarily equate success with the other. Having a successful Oscar campaign is a political part of receiving recognition for exemplary work, although without giving such a moving performance, Cumberbatch would not have been considered for the nomination. After following the film's ups and downs during nomination season, I was pleased (and a bit relieved) to hear his name read this morning.
My mentor during my doctoral program used to say that you do the work for the joy of the work itself; if you receive recognition for it, that's just gravy. If you only do good work in the hopes of receiving recognition, then your priorities are severely skewed. Benedict Cumberbatch does indeed seem to enjoy his work and to take special pride in his role as Alan Turing, but I bet getting that gravy--or award nom--today was a special moment. Undoubtedly some people will suggest that he now will be on Hollywood's gravy train, but I don't believe that. His career track of choosing interesting roles and tackling many diverse projects in a single year, in addition to winning plenty of acting awards throughout more than a decade of professional performances, indicates that he'll continue to take on new acting challenges in the future.
The Academy Award nomination--or even the Oscar--is not likely to be the single high point of Cumberbatch's career, but it is certainly a moment to savor. As Ellen DeGeneres noted in yesterday's Ellen interview, "Now everyone knows your name."
Although I like the "fun" side of his public persona, I feared the photobomb at the Golden Globes looked more staged than spontaneous, and I consequently wondered if, after he received so much online publicity for this second Cumberbomb, he might become better known for his awards antics than his acting. Today's nomination is for the serious actor's seriously good work in a film that received eight Academy Award nominations. I'm a fan because of Benedict Cumberbatch's talent and entertaining, enlightening performances, then, now, and, I anticipate, in future.
Here's to you and The Imitation Game, Mr. Cumberbatch. I'll be watching on February 22.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
A Second Look at The Imitation Game
Benedict Cumberbatch successfully reveals the heart behind the brilliant mind, troubled socialization, and tragic end of Alan Turing. It's remarkable how Cumberbatch so easily proves that both the fictional Sherlock Holmes, a character once dubbed a "machine" by his best friend, and the very real Turing, who asks the police detective investigating him to give him the Turing test (to determine AI), are so movingly, memorably human. The characters also have nothing in common--Cumberbatch, contrary to what some reviews suggest, is not playing Turing as a Holmes cousin.
This week I saw The Imitation Game for the second, but far from last time. During the first viewing, at the Toronto International Film Festival, I was excited to see a new, much-hyped film and buoyed by an audience of several hundred who cheered, gasped, and cried largely because of their immersion into Cumberbatch's performance. This time I went on a weekday morning in a much smaller U.S. city. Because I've written books, academic papers, and popular articles or reviews about this actor's work, his performances have become part of my ongoing popular culture research. In short, I primarily went to this second screening to see Cumberbatch.
However, I was disappointed--about ten minutes into the film, during Turing's interview at Bletchley Park, I realized that I had forgotten about Cumberbatch. I know--realizing that I'd forgotten about the actor means that I remembered to concentrate on the actor--but once the film began, I immediately had been drawn into the story and forgotten about the "technical side" of the portrayal. Even though I knew the plot (from reading biographies) and had already seen the film, I lost myself in the movie. I got to know the film version of Alan Turing, and I empathized completely with him. I may have come to the cinema to see Cumberbatch, but I became deeply invested in Turing and emotionally involved with the story. I didn't see Cumberbatch, the man or the celebrity, much less any of his other characters, on screen--the performance alone drew me in and held my attention for the nearly two-hour run time. Only afterward, when I mentally replayed scenes and returned to analyzing them, did I understand why the performance moved me. In the cinema, I felt instead of thought, reacted instead of analyzed.
I hope that I will always relate to Benedict Cumberbatch's performances that way--to see the character instead of the actor on screen or stage when I relax into my seat in a darkened theater.
Much of the time, once an actor becomes famous and can carry a film or a television series, I may like the character or story but am well aware of my split viewing. I simultaneously watch the character and analyze the actor's portrayal. I much prefer, on a first viewing, to enjoy the story and later to analyze the mechanics of the performance or production. However, with an actor's increased celebrity, the distinction between character and actor is more difficult to overcome. George Clooney is a good example. I like to watch George Clooney in a movie--I like his smile or smirk, his easy confidence, and the way he can drop his chin to look sincerely into the eyes of another character (and the audience) to convince him/her/us of the sincerity of what he is about to say. But I know every moment that I'm watching George Clooney playing a character, and I think of the mannerisms being Clooney's as much as the character's. It's not that Clooney isn't a believable actor or doesn't play different types of characters, but his celebrity and star power outshine his performance. I may have liked The Descendants or (probably more than most) The Monuments Men because of the story, but I went in knowing that I would see a George Clooney movie, and that perception colored my viewing experience.
At this point in his career, and during this Oscar campaign, Benedict Cumberbatch may be at a "Clooney-esque" tipping point for many of his fans. Certainly his (and Harvey Weinstein's) promotion of The Imitation Game have made not only the Academy voters but a huge portion of the Western world's film audiences aware that Cumberbatch stars and is in almost every scene. Early in the campaign, Cumberbatch determinedly directed every interview back to Turing, not his performance or personal life, and he successfully made potential audiences (back in November) aware of the film's subject matter and the significance of Alan Turing.
Although the announcement of Cumberbatch's engagement often redirected conversation toward the actor's private rather than professional life, focusing on Cumberbatch more than the film itself was a practical, effective strategy. The film is good, but it is not perfect. (I tested my reaction to the structure of the film with those of viewers in Toronto after the screening and with friends sitting around chatting on New Year's--not the most scientific research, but an approach that gave me insights other than my own.) The framing story surrounding the criminal investigation of Turing still seems a bit forced--difficult for some viewers to understand because of the time jump from present to past and back again or awkward in the sense that a man defined by the secrets he kept would reveal them so readily to a detective. As well, the issue of Turing being blackmailed into keeping quiet about a Russian spy undermines the character's heroism. Thus, the performances--and the film's impetus to make more people aware of Turing--are the primary reasons to see The Imitation Game, and among a strong cast (especially Keira Knightley and Mark Strong), Cumberbatch stands out.
Now, in the final days before Academy Award nominations are revealed, the campaign is emphasizing Turing once again. The campaign, like the movie's structure, has come full circle with the spotlight returning on the movie's subject matter instead of the actors. Whatever happens with the Oscars--and Cumberbatch and Knightley already have received numerous nominations, from the Hollywood Foreign Press and Screen Actors Guild, for example--the performances make this movie and should be recognized ahead of the film itself. I don't think that Turing's significance will be lost if the actor who portrays him on film receives an Oscar nom or wins several awards this season.
What sold me, on second viewing, about Cumberbatch's performance is his voice and eyes. Yes, of course, his physical mannerisms, such as a tilted head-forward walk, a primly set mouth, or a runner's punishing pounding of a country road, are impressive and important in creating the character, and clips shown during awards presentations likely will focus on the final pivotal scene between Turing and Clarke featuring Cumberbatch's heartbreaking embodiment of a weakened Turing. However, scene to scene, especially on a big screen, Turing's eyes explain exactly what is going on in his mind. When he impulsively proposes to Joan, audiences see the moment that idea is born because Turing's eyes lock and light up when he draws the conclusion that marriage is a logical action. When, in a later scene, Turing realizes that the detective cannot/will not help him avoid prosecution, his eyes deaden in resignation. Cumberbatch is well known for his brilliance in conveying a character's inner life, and Turing is an exceptional example.
During the U.S. publicity jaunt in November, Cumberbatch chatted with Jon Stewart about the film. Stewart significantly commented on the actor's stutter, which was true to Turing's. However, instead of just noting this aspect of the performance, Stewart astutely emphasized that most stutterers "bounce" on a consonant, whereas Turing most often stutters on a vowel (e.g., in "and"), something that is much more difficult to do. As well, Cumberbatch effectively changes pitch and cadence as Turing--a much higher voice and precise, if atypical, emphasis on words in sentences. Often the most emotional, halting statements are accompanied by rapid blinking, or Turing's eyes sliding away to focus on something other than the person to whom he is speaking. These "minutiae" of characterization help audiences empathize with Turing--and illustrate the actor's ability to get audiences to suspend disbelief. This performance encourages fans to become immersed in Turing's story rather than to gaze adoringly at a favorite actor.
That's why I think that Rotten Tomatoes, as of the time I'm writing this blog, lists a 90% critics' approval rating of The Imitation Game but, perhaps more important for box office and Cumberbatch's career, 95% audience approval (i.e., Liked it). When I first wrote about The Imitation Game, I worried how it would compete during the holiday (and awards-nomination) season against a seemingly similar British biopic, The Theory of Everything, as well as high drama from Unbroken and the joy of a holiday musical, Into the Woods, starring Meryl Streep, a perennial audience and critics' favorite. As of today, The Imitation Game is eighth among the top U.S. box office draws. Both times I've seen the film, the audience has reacted vocally--they are involved with the characters and vicariously sharing the experience. As in Toronto, the Florida midmorning audience laughed, gasped loud enough I could hear the response rows away, and caught their breath more than once. I haven't seen this consistent audience reaction to a drama for a very long time. When I asked my friends what they thought, they loved the film and uniformly praised Cumberbatch--and they aren't particularly Cumberbatch fans.
As a film critic, I recommend this movie, but not for the usual reasons. It's not perfectly executed, highly controversial, or mind boggling. It's not a "feel-good" film, but it can be inspiring. Its story is timely (or perhaps long overdue). Its score is amazing in conveying emotion and providing a soaring main theme. However, the film is worthwhile because of the performances, especially Benedict Cumberbatch's, but don't go to the movies just to see a "Cumberbatch film". Go to become immersed in The Imitation Game and invested in Alan Turing. I'm looking forward to doing that yet again and hoping that the film finally arrives at more cinemas closer to home.
This week I saw The Imitation Game for the second, but far from last time. During the first viewing, at the Toronto International Film Festival, I was excited to see a new, much-hyped film and buoyed by an audience of several hundred who cheered, gasped, and cried largely because of their immersion into Cumberbatch's performance. This time I went on a weekday morning in a much smaller U.S. city. Because I've written books, academic papers, and popular articles or reviews about this actor's work, his performances have become part of my ongoing popular culture research. In short, I primarily went to this second screening to see Cumberbatch.
However, I was disappointed--about ten minutes into the film, during Turing's interview at Bletchley Park, I realized that I had forgotten about Cumberbatch. I know--realizing that I'd forgotten about the actor means that I remembered to concentrate on the actor--but once the film began, I immediately had been drawn into the story and forgotten about the "technical side" of the portrayal. Even though I knew the plot (from reading biographies) and had already seen the film, I lost myself in the movie. I got to know the film version of Alan Turing, and I empathized completely with him. I may have come to the cinema to see Cumberbatch, but I became deeply invested in Turing and emotionally involved with the story. I didn't see Cumberbatch, the man or the celebrity, much less any of his other characters, on screen--the performance alone drew me in and held my attention for the nearly two-hour run time. Only afterward, when I mentally replayed scenes and returned to analyzing them, did I understand why the performance moved me. In the cinema, I felt instead of thought, reacted instead of analyzed.
I hope that I will always relate to Benedict Cumberbatch's performances that way--to see the character instead of the actor on screen or stage when I relax into my seat in a darkened theater.
Much of the time, once an actor becomes famous and can carry a film or a television series, I may like the character or story but am well aware of my split viewing. I simultaneously watch the character and analyze the actor's portrayal. I much prefer, on a first viewing, to enjoy the story and later to analyze the mechanics of the performance or production. However, with an actor's increased celebrity, the distinction between character and actor is more difficult to overcome. George Clooney is a good example. I like to watch George Clooney in a movie--I like his smile or smirk, his easy confidence, and the way he can drop his chin to look sincerely into the eyes of another character (and the audience) to convince him/her/us of the sincerity of what he is about to say. But I know every moment that I'm watching George Clooney playing a character, and I think of the mannerisms being Clooney's as much as the character's. It's not that Clooney isn't a believable actor or doesn't play different types of characters, but his celebrity and star power outshine his performance. I may have liked The Descendants or (probably more than most) The Monuments Men because of the story, but I went in knowing that I would see a George Clooney movie, and that perception colored my viewing experience.
At this point in his career, and during this Oscar campaign, Benedict Cumberbatch may be at a "Clooney-esque" tipping point for many of his fans. Certainly his (and Harvey Weinstein's) promotion of The Imitation Game have made not only the Academy voters but a huge portion of the Western world's film audiences aware that Cumberbatch stars and is in almost every scene. Early in the campaign, Cumberbatch determinedly directed every interview back to Turing, not his performance or personal life, and he successfully made potential audiences (back in November) aware of the film's subject matter and the significance of Alan Turing.
Although the announcement of Cumberbatch's engagement often redirected conversation toward the actor's private rather than professional life, focusing on Cumberbatch more than the film itself was a practical, effective strategy. The film is good, but it is not perfect. (I tested my reaction to the structure of the film with those of viewers in Toronto after the screening and with friends sitting around chatting on New Year's--not the most scientific research, but an approach that gave me insights other than my own.) The framing story surrounding the criminal investigation of Turing still seems a bit forced--difficult for some viewers to understand because of the time jump from present to past and back again or awkward in the sense that a man defined by the secrets he kept would reveal them so readily to a detective. As well, the issue of Turing being blackmailed into keeping quiet about a Russian spy undermines the character's heroism. Thus, the performances--and the film's impetus to make more people aware of Turing--are the primary reasons to see The Imitation Game, and among a strong cast (especially Keira Knightley and Mark Strong), Cumberbatch stands out.
Now, in the final days before Academy Award nominations are revealed, the campaign is emphasizing Turing once again. The campaign, like the movie's structure, has come full circle with the spotlight returning on the movie's subject matter instead of the actors. Whatever happens with the Oscars--and Cumberbatch and Knightley already have received numerous nominations, from the Hollywood Foreign Press and Screen Actors Guild, for example--the performances make this movie and should be recognized ahead of the film itself. I don't think that Turing's significance will be lost if the actor who portrays him on film receives an Oscar nom or wins several awards this season.
What sold me, on second viewing, about Cumberbatch's performance is his voice and eyes. Yes, of course, his physical mannerisms, such as a tilted head-forward walk, a primly set mouth, or a runner's punishing pounding of a country road, are impressive and important in creating the character, and clips shown during awards presentations likely will focus on the final pivotal scene between Turing and Clarke featuring Cumberbatch's heartbreaking embodiment of a weakened Turing. However, scene to scene, especially on a big screen, Turing's eyes explain exactly what is going on in his mind. When he impulsively proposes to Joan, audiences see the moment that idea is born because Turing's eyes lock and light up when he draws the conclusion that marriage is a logical action. When, in a later scene, Turing realizes that the detective cannot/will not help him avoid prosecution, his eyes deaden in resignation. Cumberbatch is well known for his brilliance in conveying a character's inner life, and Turing is an exceptional example.
During the U.S. publicity jaunt in November, Cumberbatch chatted with Jon Stewart about the film. Stewart significantly commented on the actor's stutter, which was true to Turing's. However, instead of just noting this aspect of the performance, Stewart astutely emphasized that most stutterers "bounce" on a consonant, whereas Turing most often stutters on a vowel (e.g., in "and"), something that is much more difficult to do. As well, Cumberbatch effectively changes pitch and cadence as Turing--a much higher voice and precise, if atypical, emphasis on words in sentences. Often the most emotional, halting statements are accompanied by rapid blinking, or Turing's eyes sliding away to focus on something other than the person to whom he is speaking. These "minutiae" of characterization help audiences empathize with Turing--and illustrate the actor's ability to get audiences to suspend disbelief. This performance encourages fans to become immersed in Turing's story rather than to gaze adoringly at a favorite actor.
That's why I think that Rotten Tomatoes, as of the time I'm writing this blog, lists a 90% critics' approval rating of The Imitation Game but, perhaps more important for box office and Cumberbatch's career, 95% audience approval (i.e., Liked it). When I first wrote about The Imitation Game, I worried how it would compete during the holiday (and awards-nomination) season against a seemingly similar British biopic, The Theory of Everything, as well as high drama from Unbroken and the joy of a holiday musical, Into the Woods, starring Meryl Streep, a perennial audience and critics' favorite. As of today, The Imitation Game is eighth among the top U.S. box office draws. Both times I've seen the film, the audience has reacted vocally--they are involved with the characters and vicariously sharing the experience. As in Toronto, the Florida midmorning audience laughed, gasped loud enough I could hear the response rows away, and caught their breath more than once. I haven't seen this consistent audience reaction to a drama for a very long time. When I asked my friends what they thought, they loved the film and uniformly praised Cumberbatch--and they aren't particularly Cumberbatch fans.
As a film critic, I recommend this movie, but not for the usual reasons. It's not perfectly executed, highly controversial, or mind boggling. It's not a "feel-good" film, but it can be inspiring. Its story is timely (or perhaps long overdue). Its score is amazing in conveying emotion and providing a soaring main theme. However, the film is worthwhile because of the performances, especially Benedict Cumberbatch's, but don't go to the movies just to see a "Cumberbatch film". Go to become immersed in The Imitation Game and invested in Alan Turing. I'm looking forward to doing that yet again and hoping that the film finally arrives at more cinemas closer to home.
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