And the Oscar Goes To . . .

The Oscar awards broadcast last Sunday night was fascinating, infuriating, and a bit dull—in other words, it was not much different from the shows of the recent past. New host Conan O’Brien added a bit of impish charm to the event: blessedly, he had a few effective political zingers, like the one praising ultimate top winner Anora for taking down powerful Russian oligarchs in a way that our political leaders recently failed to do. There were also splashy musical numbers, some of which were relevant (Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande encoring the big song from Wicked) and some which were decidedly not. Why the show felt the need for a musical salute to the James Bond franchise, featuring Margaret Qualley in a sexy dance number and then three (count ‘em) pop singers belting out Bond theme songs, I can’t begin to guess.

Mostly, the results of the Oscar balloting left me happy. It was great to hear Anora’s Sean Baker (who won a record-breaking 4 Oscars—for writing, editing, directing, and producing a single film) champion independent filmmaking as well as the importance of supporting neighborhood movie houses. 

Speaking of which, I’m newly back from New York City, where I visited the kind of local movie house that would warm Baker’s heart. Nitehawk Cinema, a stone’s throw from Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, specializes in indies, oldies, and oddities. A pre-show curtain-raiser is a fascinating compilation of old movie trailers and offbeat interviews, and you can order a nosh or a cocktail at your seat. My evening at the Nitehawk allowed me to watch the entire list of Oscar-nominated live action shorts. 

As always, in the short-film categories, most of the 2025 nominees were from faraway places. All of them under 30 minutes in length, they came from such faraway places as India, Croatia, and South Africa. My companion and I wholly agreed on the likely winner, but it turned out we were far off-base. Here’s the rundown:

“The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent,” from Croatia, is a very brief (13 minutes) and disturbing tale of a man removed from a train, at a time of political repression apparently connected to the Chechen War early in this century. The L.A. Times reviewer deeply admired this film, but we felt it was too cryptic to sustain our interest.

“Anuja,” officially American but shot in India (Mindy Kaling was a producer), deals with a smart-as-a-whip street child who must make a difficult choice about her future. Definitely likable, but (to my mind) clearly in need of more time and more money in order to carry the story to its logical conclusion. I’d love to see this as a feature-length film. One fascinating note: the child who starred in the movie is an actual street kid reliving a version of her own life story. 

“I Am Not a Robot”—from Holland, a highly original concept, and one that—at least at the start—allows for some welcome humor. Alas, toward the end it bogs down in sentimentality. 

“A Lien” (U.S.) – the title is weird, but this story of a husband and father unexpectedly being picked up at a citizenship hearing and targeted for deportation struck me as powerful and extremely pertinent. I had this pegged as a winner.

“The Last Ranger” (South Africa) – a deftly told tale of rhino poachers, and my second favorite.

The winner? “I Am Not a Robot.” The question is—did voters genuinely like this best, or did they go for a great title, without really assessing the quality of the film? Did they actually  watch these films at all? 

 

Over the Rainbow: “The Florida Project”

My enthusiasm for Sean Baker’s Palme d’Or- winning Anora led me to wonder about Baker’s earlier films. At fifty-three, he’s not exactly a boy wonder, but until now his work has mostly been seen on the indie circuit. Starting in 2000, he’s been writing, directing, and editing small films that explore the lives of marginalized Americans of all stripes. He seems to have particular sympathy for undocumented immigrants and sex workers, and has placed them at the center of many of his stories. He also relishes using non-actors in central roles that reflect their own shaky situation in life. 

Years ago, I couldn’t resist watching Tangerine (2015), after I found out how it was made. This Christmas-eve tale of a transgender sex worker who’s being cheated on by her lover/pimp was shot on the mean streets of Hollywood by Baker and his crew using (instead of conventional cameras) three iPhone smartphones. Remarkably, it worked. Though the story sounds impossibly grim, there are also moments of great poignancy and even humor in Tangerine. This, Baker’s fifth film, brought him major attention from critics’ groups like the Independent Spirt Awards. The Palm Springs Independent Film Festival, for one, named him a Director to Watch.

Baker’s sixth feature, The Florida Project (2017) was filmed more conventionally, and debuted in the Directors’ Fortnight section of the Cannes Film Festival, It was the first of Baker’s films to feature a major Hollywood actor, Willem Dafoe, but the film’s real star is Brooklynn Prince, a veteran actress who began her career at age 2. She was about 7 when she starred in The Florida Project as Moonee, a plucky kid who lives with her mom in a cheap motel managed by Dafoe’s sympathetic but often frustrated landlord. 

Moonee’s mom Halley was played by first-timer Bria Vinaite. Halley is a well-tattooed ex-stripper who’ll try just about anything—including drug sales, larceny, and prostitution—to house and feed herself and her daughter. (Needless to say, there’s no dad around.) She’s an angry young woman with a talent for scrounging and a very foul mouth, but at the same time she’s a loving mom who, when in a rare good mood, can delight Moonee with offbeat adventures. 

The Florida Project, named for an early codeword for Disney World, wants us  to see life chiefly from Moonee’s youthful perspective. For her and the other kids who live in the seedy but colorful Magic Castle Motel, there’s always time for fun, especially in summer. They try spitting on cars from the motel’s second- floor walkway; they gawk at the lady who sunbathes topless near the motel pool; they start a small fire that nearly destroys an abandoned housing project. Adult supervision is almost nil, and Moonee’s future may be bleak.  But meanwhile she’s enjoying her freedom.

The slow, relaxed pace of the storytelling encourages us to revel in the gorgeous Florida landscape. The film—dazzling in its sunny cinematography--was shot in Kissimmee, a stone’s throw from Walt Disney World, and a would-be fantasy environment hangs over everything. Moonee’s motel ($38 a night) is a startling shade of lavender, and the nearby Futureland Motel, home of new buddy Jancey, is painted pink and turquoise. We’re on the outskirts of Disney’s sprawling theme park, but a good distance from the well-curated fantasy venue enjoyed by well-heeled tourists. In recompense, Moony and her friends enjoy brilliant sunsets, dramatic rainstorms, lush foliage, and exotic waterfowl. The film’s endling essentially slips into their romantic dreams.  Too bad they will one day have to grow up and discover the harsher, darker world their parents know. 

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The Many Masks of Anora

 When first seen, Anora (who likes to be called Ani) is plying her wares at a tawdry “gentlemen’s club” in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. Sidling up to potential customers, she comes off as cute, friendly, and ready for anything. A lap dance? An upside-down whirl on the stripper pole? A cozy visit to a private room? Sure! It’s all part of her repertoire.

 Sean Baker, the American indie director who won this year’s prestigious Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival for Anora, has profound love for those on the underside of society.  In the case of Anora, what’s not to love?  Especially when we learn that her dream is to go on a honeymoon trip to Walt Disney World. Her Cinderella fantasies almost come true when an adorably curly-headed young Russian (drawn to her first because she can understand—if not really speak—his language) falls for her in a big way. After a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas,  they return home as man and wife. The pampered son of a Russian oligarch, one who’s enjoying living alone in a fabulous seaside mansion, Ivan can give her everything—love, fun, drugs, a three-carat diamond ring. Not bad for a young woman who up to this point has had to scrupulously keep an eye on her finances.

 But like all good things, the honeymoon quickly comes to an end.  When his parents’ local fixer—who doubles as an Armenian priest—discovers the marriage, all hell breaks loose. The parents are quickly on a plane from Moscow, determined to scuttle the marriage and pursue a quick annulment. In their eyes, Anora is a gold-digger preying on their innocent boy. The situation develops into a riotous brouhaha, in which Ivan flees into the night and Anora is kept at bay by two rather inept thugs who’ll do just about anything to calm her down.

 This is the point at which Ani’s combative spirit really comes into focus. She wants what she sees as hers, and nothing—not violence, not bribes, not sweet talk—is going to stop her. Her  transformation from sexy wench to woman in love to warrior princess is both startling and fascinating. This is someone who is fearless, both with her hands and with her mouth, in demanding what she deserves. And, especially when she’s faced with Ivan’s obnoxious mother, we see what drives her: a desperate need to stick up for herself in a world where she has no other champion. Which leads, finally, to an at-first-perplexing moment in which we come to understand how hard she’s struggled to build a life for herself, and how much she’s lost along the way.

 Mikey Madison, who plays Anora, has a short Hollywood resumé (she played one of the Manson girls in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood)  but I agree with all the pundits who insist this film will launch a major career. A SoCal girl who grew up (she insists) quite shy, she has adopted for Anora a bold, exuberant personality that doesn’t quit. What’s special about her is that she isn’t simply loud and sexy: there are layers in her portrayal that hint at the complexity of her life. Credit Sean Baker with bringing out the various facets of Anora’s approach to living: as his work in indie flicks like Tangerine shows, he loves actors who are fearless.

 This evening, while tooling down the Sunset Strip, I saw a huge billboard for Anora: Madison looks totally seductive, with a bare shoulder peeking out from a fur coat. No question: a star is born. 

He to She: They Changed It At the Movies

Gender-bending seems to be the rule of the day. On cable television, there’s Pose, an exploration of what is called New York’s gender-nonconforming ballroom culture: it’s currently vying for six Emmy awards, including one for Billy Porter as lead actor in a dramatic series. In 2018, a Chilean film, Una mujer fantástica, won the Academy Award for best foreign language film. Its leading lady, Daniela Vega, made history that year as the first -ever transgender person to serve as a presenter on the Oscar stage.

Recently I caught up with two film productions that tackle, with very different stylistics, the life of a man who chooses to live as a woman. The Danish Girl, from 2015, is semi-fictitious in its details but is based on the real-life Einar Magnus Andreas Wegener, a young painter who in 1920s Denmark evolved into a woman named Lili and underwent some of history’s first sex change operations. At the start of the film Einar (played by a totally engaging Eddie Redmayne) is married to a fellow artist named Gerda, a lively bohemian played by Alicia Vikander. As apparently happened for real, Einar first discovers the truth of his nature when asked by his wife to fill in for a missing model. Posing draped in a ballerina’s tights and tutu, he finds himself enthralled by the sensuous pleasures of female garb. This leads in the film to Gerda mischievously parading him at a posh art opening as Einar’s tall, shy cousin Lili. But the masquerade becomes all too real when another young man falls for Lili, and Einar becomes ever more convinced that he is meant to be female, even to the point of wanting to bear children.

There’s hardly a happy ending. But the actors are fully committed to their roles, managing to convince us that theirs is a beautiful love story, if a tragic one. The versatile Redmayne, who had previously persuaded Oscar voters that he was Stephen Hawking, remains credible and lovable whether dressed as a man or a woman. (His impishly secretive smile is essential in this regard). Alicia Vikander, as the woman who loves him too well to insist on keeping him, nabbed her own Oscar for her role. The music is lush; the muted but lovely scenery and costumes are to die for. I guess the film could be shrugged off as a weepie, but one beautifully executed in a Merchant-Ivory vein.

Then there’s Tangerine, which is a trans film of a different color. Indie filmmaker Sean Baker, who would go on to shoot The Florida Project two years later, got the film community’s attention when he shot this feature entirely on three iPhone 5s smartphones. No, the moviegoer isn’t required to watch this film on a tiny screen, though it will never be mistaken for Cinemascope. Tangerine tells a sordid but affecting slice-of-life story about a day in the life of an African-American transgender hooker named Sin-Dee Rella who plies her trade on the seedy streets of L.A. Just out of the slammer on Christmas Eve, she’s looking for the pimp who’s apparently cheating on her with a cisgender woman. Meanwhile her best buddy is trying to drum up business for a late-night singing gig, and a sad-sack immigrant Armenian cab driver is struggling to deal with his wife, his infant daughter, and his harridan of a mother-in-law. Somehow they all wind up in a late-night donut shop, where what happens is either very sad or very funny or both. In any case, it seems quite real: or about as real as L.A. on a sultry Christmas eve.