Chloé Zhao has made history at the 93rd Academy Awards as the first Asian-American woman and first woman of colour to win Best Director. She won for Nomadland, which Zhao also edited, produced, and adapted as a screenplay (from the book by Jessica Bruder).
Only one other woman has ever won Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker in 2008. Zhao and fellow nominee Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman) were just the sixth and seventh women to receive nominations.
This was one of a trifecta of above-the-line prizes that went to women. Fennell won Best Original Screenplay for Promising Young Woman and Zhao for Best Picture.
Emerald Fennell, winner of the award for best original screenplay for Promising Young Woman, enters the press room. AP Photo/Chris Pizzello
These three awards put women in the spotlight as never before. But filmmaking is a collective art. Women were also celebrated in technical areas where sexism and gender disparity are even more entrenched.
Michelle Couttolenc won an award for Best Sound (Sound of Metal) and Jan Pascale for Best Set Decoration (Mank). Mia Neal and Jamika Wilson made history as the first African-American winners in the category of makeup and hairstyling (with Sergio Lopez-Rivera) for their contributions to Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.
Women also accepted awards as film producers: Dana Murray won Best Animated Feature with Pete Docter (Soul), Alice Doyard won Best Documentary Short with Anthony Giacchino (Collette) and Pippa Ehrlich won Best Documentary Feature with James Reed (My Octopus Teacher).
This year, with shrinking audiences and pandemic restrictions, there was a bitter irony in the fact women won more Oscars, across new and highly visible categories, than ever before.
– Julia Erhart
Read more:
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Best Picture
It’s no surprise Nomadland won Best Picture — it’s good, compelling stuff, and manages (like most Oscar contenders) to be formulaic to its core without appearing as such. In classic Hollywood fashion, beautiful images accompanied by derivative but affecting music reinscribe social and political history in the mode of melodramatic and intimate personal reflection.
Following “salt of the earth” Fern (Frances McDormand) on her journey through the American West, we experience her ups and downs, recognising the emotional impact the devastation of precarious employment has had on her. The brutal 21st century reality of disempowered (non-unionised) workers becomes fodder for a narrative focusing on an individual’s personal growth — including happily working for Amazon no less (it’s “good pay,” Fern says).
Frances McDormand in a scene from Nomadland. Searchlight Pictures via AP
Still, it definitely works as a film, painting a starkly drawn but nuanced portrait of life in post-industrial America. It’s poetically charged in its understatement, and features excellent performances by McDormand and David Strathairn as her love interest.
It’s also better than most of its contenders, including the sophomoric Promising Young Woman and the irrepressibly dull Mank. The only exception is Judas and the Black Messiah: the best film nominated for an Oscar this year (if not the best film of the year).
-Ari Mattes
Acceptance speeches
To keep making and distributing movies over the past year has been an achievement in itself. Many speakers acknowledged colleagues who persisted in believing in film projects against a backdrop of ongoing adversity.
The movies nominated were a politically charged bunch. While presenters acknowledged the issues, winners largely allowed the movies to speak for their own politics.
There was mention of gun violence and slayings by police. H.E.R. (Best Original Song) proclaimed her role to “fight for my people”. Daniel Kaluuya (Best Supporting Actor) highlighted the spirituality and politics of the Black Panthers and said the work still to do was “on everyone in this room”. Mikkel Nielsen (Best Editing) did his bit for arts funding, praising the Danish Film School as his award vindicated support for it.
Best director Zhao praised those looking for the good in others, while Best Documentary winner Ehrlich credited courageous women “joining hands and fighting for justice”.
Generally, though, the acceptance speeches did not indulge in politicking. There was no direct mention of America’s 2020 election results, no Biden and nothing like the Trump mentions last year — just the art at hand.
-Tom Clark
Fashion
Chloe Zhao arrives (with Joshua James Richards) for the 93rd annual Academy Awards. Chris Pizzello/POOL/EPA
The intimate Oscars ceremony (with only 170 VIP guests at LA’s Union Station) meant a reduced red carpet. However, attendees made up for the lack of numbers by bringing colour, glamour and scale in what they wore.
The dress code asked for “a fusion of Inspirational and Aspirational”. After spending 2020 in our most comfortable garments, this return to in-person awards called for spectacle.
The majority of guests followed the directive. Sure, winning director Zhao opted for sneakers, but she wore them with her pale Hermès sweater dress and French braids and looked effortlessly cool. Musical director Questlove dressed up his rubber Crocs by making them gold.
Early arrivals at the event included some of the best dressed men of the night, including Coleman Domingo in shocking, delicious pink Atelier Versace; LaKeith Stanfield in custom Saint Laurent 70s jumpsuit by Anthony Vaccarello; and the adorable young Alan S. Kim in Thom Browne short suit, bow tie and four-bar socks.
Colour and movement. From left: Amanda Seyfried, Angela Bassett, Reese Witherspoon, Halle Berry, Emerald Fennell and Regina King. AP Photo/Chris Pizzello
Perhaps the strongest trend was volume: in skirts, sleeves and bows. Maria Bakalova’s white tulle Louis Vuitton seemed directly related to Bjork’s iconic swan dress of 20 years ago, as did Laura Dern’s marabou feather Oscar de la Renta.
Regina King was resplendent in a custom Louis Vuitton powder-blue butterfly dress, with huge, bejewelled winged shoulders. Sleeves were also exaggerated in Angela Bassett’s red Alberta Ferretti and Marlee Matlin’s sparkling yet sustainably made Vivienne Westwood.
Carey Mulligan’s gold Valentino two-piece, Nicolette Robinson’s black taffeta Zuhair Murad and Amanda Seyfried’s red tulle Armani Privé all came with skirts made for social distancing.
Zendaya in canary custom Valentino, Jimmy Choo heels and US$6 million worth of Bulgari diamonds. Chris Pizzello / POOL/EPA
The most aspirational? Surely Zendaya in a canary yellow, Cher-inspired strapless Valentino with over US$6 million (A$7.7 million) of yellow Bulgari diamonds.
And the most inspirational: 73-year old Youn Yuh-jung making history as the first Korean woman to win an Academy Award for acting, wearing a navy gown by Egyptian designer Marmar Halim with Chopard jewels. Perfect.
-Harriette Richards
Best Acting
Anthony Hopkins won for The Father, and Frances McDormand for Nomadland. Fair enough. Both are stellar actors who bring a quiet intensity to their performances in these films.
Both have carved out a niche for themselves within the Hollywood machine playing these kinds of characters, with Hopkins becoming synonymous in the 21st century with the broken patriarch and McDormand with the quirky baby boomer.
Each could have played their role in their sleep, one suspects, with neither seeming particularly challenged from a craft perspective. But if there’s one thing you can depend upon when it comes to the Oscars, it is middlebrow polite predictability, and these are both obvious choices.
In contrast, Riz Ahmed offers a less polished but stranger and more interesting performance in Sound of Metal, as does Andra Day, who overacts in the lead role but nonetheless masters our attention in The United States vs. Billie Holiday.
-Ari Mattes
Read more:
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Best Original Score
Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross, and Jon Batiste’s win for their music for Soul in the Best Original Score category is unusual in at least three ways. First, Soul is an animated film, (the first to win as a soundtrack since Michael Giacchino’s Up in 2009).
Then there’s the fact that Soul is dominated not just by jazz music, but by jazz music played on screen — a genre rarely rewarded by the academy today. You’d have to go back to Round Midnight and Herbie Hancock in 1986 for something genuinely comparable.
Strangest of all, there’s a touch of category weirdness here. The academy rules state multiple composers on a single film are eligible only when they work closely together. That makes sense for Reznor and Ross, whose soundtrack careers can’t be meaningfully separated. But Batiste made markedly different music for Soul.
His is the film’s lively and virtuosic jazz often played on-screen by the film’s characters, while Reznor and Ross made ethereal, synth-heavy underscore for scenes set in the afterlife. In the end credits, Batiste — whose music does most of the heavy lifting in the film — isn’t even listed as composer. Instead, Pixar chose to list him with a “jazz compositions and arrangements by” credit.
Common sense prevailed this year, however, and perhaps it is time to rethink the Best Score eligibility rules. Of the other nominees, Terence Blanchard would have to feel hard done by after his wonderful music for a Spike Lee film (Da 5 Bloods) was overlooked again, while Emile Mosseri would be happy as a first time nominee despite his score for Minari arguably being the strongest of the bunch.
In the 1980s, film scholar Barbara Creed coined the term the “monstrous-feminine”. It refers to the way that female monsters are typically portrayed as threatening and disgusting for reasons connected to their bodies and their sexuality. New film The Substance takes a leaf out of Creed’s book by proposing a feminist critique of female experience through the visceral language of the body horror, a sub-genre preoccupied with the transformation, destruction or grotesque exaggeration of the human body.
The Substance is a film about a fading Hollywood star who will go to any lengths to stay beautiful. After having her TV aerobics show cancelled, Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) resorts to a mysterious serum that can create a “better” version of her – a younger double she can inhabit a few days at a time.
As the pull of success and the return of public recognition lure Sparkle away from her older, now abandoned self, horrendous mutations ensue. It seems poignant that the protagonist of this dark parable should be played by Moore, an actor whose looks have long been scrutinised.
In the October issue of Sight and Sound, the film’s director, Coralie Fargeat, explains that it’s not intended as a caricature, but “a mirror of society’s misogynistic mentality”. It really is “that gross … that violent in the real world,” she argues.
Many agree with her. In a review for Film International, film critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas goes as far as to call The Substance a “documentary”, due to its “emotional fidelity”. That is, its ability to make literal the disconnection between body and consciousness caused by ageing, which impacts women particularly negatively.
The trailer for The Substance.
A growing body of films
The Substance is not the only major film in 2024 to be marketed, either fully or in part, as “body horror”. This is surprising because body horror originally emerged as a niche, often independently produced, sub-genre.
Body horror’s gruesome aesthetic and themes of corporeal decay, transformation and mutilation can be off-putting for many viewers. Yet films like Love Lies Bleeding, Tiger Stripes and I Saw the TV Glow (which all had wide releases in 2024) have turned to the sub-genre. Their directors have been drawn to its ability to tell timely stories about the way corporeality, identity and social interactions cannot be separated.
These films are largely about marginalised or maladjusted people. They show how our personal actions and sense of identity are always affected by the availability of role models and the limitations imposed on people by governmental, educational, religious and familial forces. For example, the teenage protagonist in Tiger Stripes rebels against the expectations that, because she is a girl, she should cover her hair, show modesty and be courteous.
From Poor Things and Infinity Pool (both 2023) to Hatching (2022) and Titane (2021), the 2020s are shaping up into something of a new golden age for body horror.
And there’s a similar trend emerging in streaming shows, from the episode The Outside from Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (2022) to Alice Birch’s remake of David Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers (2023).
The body horror in The Substance. Courtesy of Mubi
A sub-genre with substance
One of the key things that characterises this contemporary wave of body horror is the influx of directors who identify as women and as queer.
There were far fewer women and queer directors in the late 1970s and 1980s, when body horror gained popularity thanks to films like The Evil Dead (1981), The Fly (1986) and Hellraiser (1987), than there are now. This decade has made big moves towards inclusion, and the film industry has been greatly impacted by social movements like Me Too, Trans Lives Matter and Black Lives Matter, even if much work is yet to be done.
Body horror is particularly appealing to creators who would have previously found it difficult to make a living in the world of commercial filmmaking. Filmmakers (including Rose Glass, Amanda Nell Eu, Jane Schoenbrun, Hanna Bergholm, Julia Ducournau, Michelle Garza Cervera, Natalie Erika James, Alice Maio Mackay, Nia DaCosta and Coralie Fargeat) have found a valuable lexicon for feminist, trans-activist and anti-racist messages in the sub-genre. Many of them talk about their work as highly personal – if not based on their direct experience.
The body horror sub-genre is attuned to the violence of social exclusion and discrimination. Its metamorphic, painful, insidious and carnal nightmares help articulate the concerns of a new generation of artists for whom corporeality, and sometimes simply being visible, has become a political statement.
David Cronenberg closed his classic body horror film Videodrome (1983) with the emblematic line: “Long live the new flesh!” He needn’t have worried. It’s here to stay.
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With a flash of garish colour and the blaring of an ’80s rock track we are on Mount Olympus, home to the pantheon of ancient Greek gods and goddesses.
But its not the Mount Olympus you’d normally think of. It’s an opulent house with large-screen TVs and gold watches. Overseeing it all is mighty Zeus, the king of the gods, played by Jeff Goldblum.
Netflix’s new six-part series, KAOS, is a brilliant reimagining of classical mythology for the 21st century. Created by Charlie Covell, writer on The End of the F***ing World (2017–19), the series follows six humans who learn they are part of a larger prophecy – their fates at the mercy and whims of the Olympian gods.
Narrated by Prometheus (Stephen Dillane), the series is darkly comedic in its exploration of themes from the original myths, such as power and abuse, gender politics and life after death.
Goldblum’s take on Zeus is mercurial. Powerful, but petulant and selfish, his Zeus is insecure. It’s a fascinating take on the god. “My character is complicated and charismatic, not to mention cruel,” the actor revealed in an interview.
The ancient Greeks themselves were ambiguous about Zeus. He could be a fearful figure or a humorous one. He ended up with dozens of epithets, ranging from Areius (“warlike”) to Zygius (“presider over marriage”), and most commonly Olympios and Panhellenios to signify his divine power over gods and humans alike.
Hollywood has similarly found a variety of ways to present Zeus, but usually in supporting roles (unlike in KAOS, where Zeus takes centre stage). In fact, one early cinematic appearance of the god was at the birth of filmmaking itself, in Georges Méliès’ silent film Jupiter’s Thunderballs (1903).
Zeus the powerful and vengeful god
Zeus (and his Roman equivalent Jupiter) was the god of sky and thunder in the Greek pantheon on Mount Olympus, and the father of many heroes and demigods of classical mythology. His main visual attribute was the lightning bolt, which is hinted at cleverly in a number of scenes in Goldblum’s performance.
The most common portrayal of Zeus in film and television is that of a vengeful and wrathful god who interferes with and manipulates the activities of others.
In Clash of the Titans (1981), a retelling of the myth of Perseus, Zeus (Laurence Olivier) manipulates the gods to support Perseus.
And this continues in the 2010 remake and its sequel, Wrath of the Titans (2012), in which Zeus (Liam Neeson) is an active participant in a plot centred on the struggle against Hades.
In the film Immortals (2011), although Zeus is often detached from the plot and merely observes, he is ultimately roused to action by anger.
Similarly, in the Percy Jackson films and TV series (based on Rick Riordan’s books), Zeus is characterised by his anger directed at Percy as he accuses him of stealing his lightning bolt.
Zeus the lustful abuser
Zeus was, well… there is no other way of saying it… horny. Incredibly horny. Despite the long-suffering protestations of his wife (and sister), Hera, Zeus would go on to father innumerable gods and demigods in the original myths.
His affairs with both divine and mortal women were almost always non-consensual and always ended badly for the seduced woman, who would either immediately die upon seeing Zeus in divine form or suffer the inventive vengeance of Hera. As Susie Donkin explained in the title of her 2020 book: Zeus is a Dick.
Unlike many filmed portrayals of Zeus, KAOS does not shy away from this aspect of his behaviour. But it is perhaps best represented in the adult animated series Blood of Zeus (2020-), in which much of the plot is driven by the aftermath of Zeus’ sexual proclivities.
Zeus the father figure
Hercules (Herakles in Greek) is one of the most filmed characters of all time, so the appearance of Zeus as his father is expected.
Perhaps most fondly remembered by all is Disney’s film Hercules (1997), in which Zeus (voiced by Rip Torn) is a warm and wise father. “For a true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart,” he advises his son.
Hercules in New York (1970) is a cult film best known as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first (dubbed) role as the titular strongman in contemporary New York. Here, Zeus (Ernest Graves) is responsible for Hercules’ exile – angry, but wanting the best for his son.
Anthony Quinn played Zeus in the TV movie The Circle of Fire (1994), which kick-started the TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) and its spin-off Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001). Zeus appeared periodically in both. Although Hercules in the series often referred to the neglectfulness of his father, Zeus is still presented as a loving parent in each appearance.
Zeus the comical
Zeus is also perfect to poke fun at. The ancients did it; in Aristophanes’ comedic play The Birds, for example, Zeus’ all-seeing vision is blocked by merely a raised parasol.
Perhaps the best example of this in modern cinema is Russell Crowe’s depiction in the Marvel movie Thor: Love and Thunder (2022). In this campy take, Zeus is all lightning bolts, with a toga that hides very little, and a controversial Greek accent.
But there was also a poignancy in Crowe’s Zeus, such as when he states:
It used to be that being a god, it meant something. People would whisper your name, before sharing their deepest hopes and dreams. They begged you for mercy, without ever knowing if you were actually listening. Now, when they look to the sky, they don’t ask us for lightning, they don’t ask us for rain, they just want to see one of their so-called superheroes. When did we become the joke?
Just as the ancient Greeks had many versions of Zeus, so does the modern world. And Jeff Goldblum’s brilliant performance suggests we certainly haven’t seen the last of Zeus’ thunderbolts onscreen.
Legendary filmmaker Stanley Kubrick spent a lifetime trying to make his final film, Eyes Wide Shut, a reality. He had been struggling to make it from the moment he began making feature films, some 75 years ago. When he finally did, 25 years ago in 1999, it killed him.
The plot centres on a physician (Tom Cruise) whose wife (Nicole Kidman) reveals that she had contemplated having an affair a year earlier. He becomes obsessed with having his own sexual encounter. When he discovers an underground sex group, he attends one of their masked orgies.
Having not made a film in 12 years since Full Metal Jacket in 1987, Eyes Wide Shut was hotly anticipated. Titillated by juicy rumours in the British tabloids, critics and fans who were expecting a steamy X-rated psychological thriller were inevitably disappointed. “Eyes Wide Shut turns out to be the dirtiest movie of 1958,” quipped one critic. Wait 12 years for anything and it won’t turn out to be quite so good as you imagined.
But where English speaking audiences panned it, the film was warmly received in Latin and Mediterranean countries. And in the long term, those audiences proved to be right and the film has grown in stature since. Not everyone might agree that, as Kubrick claimed, it was his best work but they certainly should see its merits today.
Kubrick adored the work of Arthur Schnitzler, the Austrian author of the 1926 text, Traumnovelle (translated into Dream Story in English), which became his source material. Once described as the greatest portrayer of adultery in German-language literature, Schnitzler wrote about themes of sex, marriage, betrayal and above all, jealousy. He even, it is rumoured, kept a diary of every orgasm he ever experienced.
Given that Kubrick discovered Traumnovelle in the early 1950s, it influenced almost every film he made. Consider the rapes in Fear and Desire (1952) and Killer’s Kiss (1955), the adultery and jealousy in The Killing (1956) and the attraction to younger women in Lolita (1962). Consider also the sexual violence in A Clockwork Orange (1971), the adultery in Barry Lyndon (1975), the marital troubles of The Shining (1980) and the toxic masculinity of Full Metal Jacket. They all culminated in Eyes Wide Shut.
This extends to the films Kubrick didn’t make too. The Freudian tale of Burning Secret written by Schnitzler’s contemporary, Stefan Zweig, that was abandoned in 1956 through to Napoleon, a figure that intrigued Kubrick partly because he had, in his own words, a sex life worthy of Arthur Schnitzler.
Eyes Wide Shut (1999) official trailer.
Kubrick returned to Eyes Wide Shut time and again during his career. But it took until the mid-1990s, when Kubrick was in his 60s, before he was able to execute it.
He struggled with adapting the source material. How does a director who spent his career putting big themes like nuclear war, the space race and Vietnam on the big screen put the tiny intimate moments of marriage on there?
His wife, Christiane, kept stopping him, telling him they were too young. Or maybe it was because Kubrick was legendary for his pre-production research, so only with four decades of marriage under his belt did he feel he really understood the topic.
By the time it was eventually made, Kubrick was in a poor state of health. Already a ponderous filmmaker, he was slowing up. The production was long, arduous and still holds the record for the longest continuous shoot in cinema history.
Stanley Kubrick photographed shortly before his death. LANDMARK MEDIA/Alamy
When it finally wrapped on June 17 1998, he was exhausted. Eyes Wide Shut had been filmed over 294 days, spread over 579 calendar days, including 19 for re-shooting with actress Marie Richardson, totalling slightly over a year and seven months. And post-production would last for a further nine months, only brought to a halt by Kubrick’s death.
Not around to influence the marketing, the film suffered from a poor critical reception. The result was a disappointed audience, looking for salaciousness where none existed. That, in turn, influenced their response and the initial commercial failure of the film in the US.
Many US and British critics felt the film was too long, the acting was unconvincing, the New York sets looked fake, the ideas were weak and the eagerly anticipated orgy scene was ridiculous. They thought it was hermetic, too ordered and too closed off.
In the end, ironically, it was the highest grosser of any Kubrick film. It cost US$65 million (£40 million) to make with another US$30 million in publicity costs and eventually grossed US$162 million worldwide.
Now, it is regarded as a classic, maybe not Kubrick’s best film, but one with enough layers to reward repeated viewing. And its influence is felt in wider popular culture.
Consider the explicit reference in Jordan Peele’s 2017 film Get Out, a director much influenced by Kubrick’s style, when one character says: “You in some Eyes Wide Shut situation. Leave, motherfucker.”
Todd Field, who played Nick Nightingale in Eyes Wide Shut, showed a Kubrickian influence in the image making, pacing and almost dreamlike atmosphere of the film Tár which he directed in 2022. Jonathan Glazer’s Birth (2004) owes a huge debt to Eyes Wide Shut also.
In the final analysis, anyone who refuses to engage with Eyes Wide Shut is refusing to understand Kubrick as a filmmaker. He wanted to make it at the very point he began making feature films. It lurks behind every film he made.
