Pushing the envelope

It's time to second-guess the Academy and toast the great overlooked performances of 2005, from Scarlett Johansson to ... Sharon Stone.

By Stephanie Zacharek

Read more: Stephanie Zacharek, Movies, Arts & Entertainment, Academy Awards

Top: Valentin Lelong and Mathieu Amalric in "Kings & Queen." Bottom: Joan Plowright and Rupert Friend in "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont."

Feb. 28, 2006 | Every February, even people who pay only marginal attention to movies can't help having a peek at the Oscar nominees, particularly for the acting awards. Directors and writers may be most directly responsible for shaping a movie, but actors are our most immediate contact point with a picture's heart and soul. And when we're stuck watching a bad movie, a good performance can often salvage the experience.

Maybe that's why many of us feel a vague ripple of excitement when the acting nominees are announced: There's that moment when we compare the Academy's choices with our own personal template of favorites, perhaps expressing dismay at a particularly dull choice (Judi Dench? For that performance?), or taking pleasure in the fact that someone we expected to be overlooked had actually made it onto the Academy voters' radar (Rachel Weisz's subtly dazzling turn in "The Constant Gardener" is just the sort of thing that usually escapes their notice).

But that initial minor thrill doesn't last very long. Within minutes, most of us have started compiling a righteous list of actors that the Academy might have noticed and didn't; then we move on to our own list of personal favorites, performances that we know didn't have a chance in hell of being recognized but of which we nonetheless feel fiercely protective. The nerve of those voters, failing to acknowledge the smoldering brilliance of Tony Leung in "2046"! Did half of them even bother to pick it out of their fat pile of screeners and pop it into the DVD player, even for just a few minutes? And did most of them vote for Philip Seymour Hoffman's performance in "Capote" (admittedly, a superb one) just because all their friends were doing it? And what about Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams in "Red Eye"? (Or Cillian Murphy in "Breakfast on Pluto"?) Both Murphy and McAdams are terrific in Wes Craven's creepy-funny thriller, which is far more intelligently made than some of the big, dumb prestige pictures the studios trot out at the end of the year. But "Red Eye" is far too "B" to merit the Academy's consideration. Wouldn't it be nice if they were just a little creative for a change?

But the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences -- not really a group of human beings but an amorphous organism whose tastes are often (though not always) rather predictable -- is immune to our demands. They'll do as they please. So why not, just for kicks, say, "To hell with 'em"? Part of the fun of the Oscars is the way they free our own sense of indignation. Compiling a fantasy list of favorite performances is a small way of honoring actors who continue to challenge and delight us. What follows is a list of my own personal favorites, including some performances that might have been recognized but weren't, and quite a few others that would never have a snowball's chance in Hollywood.

Best Supporting Actor
I was pleased to see that Jake Gyllenhaal's performance in "Brokeback Mountain" wasn't overlooked -- I found his emotional voraciousness in that role far more convincing than Heath Ledger's faux-Gary Cooper opacity. (I have enough problems with the real Gary Cooper, at least in his later work; he's a physically beautiful actor with an unfortunate tendency toward lifelessness.) Even so, Gyllenhaal's performance comfortably fits the mold of what the Academy voters usually look for, and it doesn't hurt that it's part of a tasteful, artistically unembarrassing picture.

But would they ever give a nomination to a performance in a ridiculously enjoyable light comedy or, even less likely, a sick, twisted mind fuck? Oliver Platt's turn as the shy but salacious roly-poly 18th century Venetian "lard king" in Lasse Halström's "Casanova" is a great comic performance that sneaks up on you: He's at first presented as a stiff buffoon, but by the end, we have no trouble understanding why Venetian MILF Lena Olin has fallen in love (and into bed) with him. And what about Mickey Rourke in Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller's brash, sleazy and wonderful "Sin City"? As the hulking, sad-eyed Marv, he wears heavy prosthetics -- his face has the quality of tenderized meat. But there's something going on behind the latex: Rourke is expressive and touching, somehow almost without moving the muscles in his face. It's a performance that comes from a dark, interior place and radiates outward.

And then there's the great movie of last year that, almost surprisingly, nearly no one saw: Roman Polanski's allegorically semiautobiographical "Oliver Twist." The picture was badly marketed and, by and large, stupidly reviewed, a shame for many reasons, most notably that Ben Kingsley's performance as Fagin slipped by unnoticed.

Let's not be revisionist: Dickens wrote the character of Fagin with a clearly anti-Semitic slant. Yet Dickens did feel some compassion for this difficult, twisted man, and Kingsley teases that out in this portrayal. This Fagin is an intriguing combination of schemer and nurturer. He uses the innocent orphan Oliver ruthlessly. But for a time, at least, he also provides a home for him, and a sense of belonging, which is more than the authorities who have been commissioned to look after him have done. Kingsley invites us to gaze directly upon Fagin's grotesquerie. But just when we think we've got Fagin figured out, Kingsley throws a challenge our way: Sometimes it's nothing more than a glimpse of suppressed pain in his eyes. But that's enough. Kingsley never allows us to feel superior to Fagin -- which is perhaps the key to playing any great villain well.

Next page: What about Sharon Stone and Scarlett Johansson?