50. Diane Keaton in 'Annie Hall' (1977)

Plot intro

Insecure, neurotic, snobbish comedian Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) and cheery, happy-go-lucky Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) fall in love and have a relationship. But it rapidly comes to light that they are basically flogging a dead horse.  

Doug says...

Ah Woody Allen, that old chestnut again. With such serious allegations persisting against him, it’s akin to watching a Kevin Spacey film in that it becomes incredibly hard to separate art and artist - because he’s on the screen the whole time. If it’s a film he’s only directed, it’s easier to forget his involvement because he’s not there acting away in front of you. It’s this that makes me think watching Cate Blanchett in his film Blue Jasmine (in a few decades time) will be that bit more easy as he didn’t star in it. 

I’m not quite sure why Keaton won for this film. She’s naturalistic, sure, and a breath of fresh air in terms of quick, realistic line-delivery, but with Faye Dunaway’s win the previous year still lurking in the memory, Keaton doesn’t seem to do anything nearly as exceptional here. She’s likeable and a bit neurotic and there’s some great laughs (particularly when she’s driving the car badly while shouting “I’m a terrific driver”), but ultimately although she’s the title character, the film is about Alvy’s view of Annie, and his own neurotic approach to dating. 

The film does have that sense of innovation around it, with plenty of experimental techniques thrown in - subtitles that reveal what the characters really think about them, ghostly selves that appear during sex to show how removed they are - even an odd moment of Disney-esque animation. And while this keeps it feeling newer, a lot of the humour has dated in it and doesn’t come anywhere near raising a laugh. 

I also think that the film smacks of misogyny and male ego. There are so many points where we are invited to laugh at the female characters not understanding Alvy’s jokes. Shelley Duvall, in a brief couple of scenes, comes across as airheaded and faddish, and it’s a view that seems to be applied to most (if not all) women in the film. Allen does show Alvy up to be unlikeable too, but he’s always cleverer and quicker with his words. Women, in this film at least, appear highly superficial. 

Back to Keaton - there are some odd moments when she sings and I can’t work out if these are meant to be spellbinding. However Keaton doesn’t have the best voice, so it all drags a bit. Ultimately she does a nice job on the role, but I think it’s purely a sign of how trendy a character Annie is that Keaton won. There doesn’t feel like much innovation or excellence on display.  

Highlight

At the very end of the film, Alvy and Annie meet again, with different partners. It’s a wide angle shot so you can’t see any faces or details, but IMDb reliably informs us that Alvy’s new partner is played by none other than Sigourney Weaver in her first film appearance. Together with Jeff Goldblum’s cameo in a party scene and Carol Kane’s short scenes at the start, this is a veritable who’s who of not-yet-famous names.

Lowlight

The humour that may have had people rolling in the aisles is entirely dated and has almost completely dissipated. There were so many jokes and punchlines that didn’t even raise a smile from me. A product of its time. 

Mark

4/10

Paul says...

This is our second viewing of Annie Hall after reviewing it for our Best Pictures project and I think I’m coming into it with a slightly (very slightly!) more favourable perspective than Doug. Yes, it’s Woody Allen, a problematic film-maker with an evidently dysfunctional family life. This does leave a sour taste in the mouth, and I am yet to find motivation to watch any of his other works.

However, I do enjoy the film’s playful storytelling techniques. These range from small moments such as Allen unexpectedly throwing comments at the camera like Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Fleabag, to much bigger set-pieces such as an animated sequence, subtitles, ghostly recreations of the characters, and a cameo from philosopher Marshall McLuhan, whom Allen brings on to prove to an intellectual rival that they are completely wrong about the philosopher’s writings. Without these the film would be a dreary, dull slog even at just 90 minutes (the second-shortest Best Picture winner), as the story is ludicrously simple and dependent entirely on character interactions and meta-theatrical structure.

I also disagree that the film is completely misogynistic. Granted, the few female characters in the film are generally presented as superficial and air-headed, which dates the film considerably. But in the juxtaposition of Alvy and Annie, I actually think Allen gives himself a role that is entirely unlikeable. Alvy, at best, is neurotic, evidently has anxiety and OCD, and struggles to enjoy life because he finds the negative in all things. At worst, he is insulting, narcissistic and some of his behaviour verges on gaslighting. He sneers and challenges Annie when she describes Sylvia Plath’s poetry as “neat”; he sneakily uses jokes as way to mock others’ perceived lesser intelligence and cultivation without coming across as aggressive; and even when Annie manages to garner a modicum of success as a singer, his celebration of her is peppered with either criticism or a passive-aggressive reminder that he helped her along the way. 

Annie, on the other hand, is who the audience is supposed to like and identify with and I think that Allen, making Annie the titular character, has written her as the hero of the piece. She may not be as intellectual or deep-thinking as Alvy, but she is far from unintelligent and loves art, photography, history, literature and culture. But she is superior to Alvy because she gets such a thrill from just experiencing the art and therefore lives a happier, more emotionally prosperous life. She is the one who comes out on top in the end, with a singing career in LA and an escape from the grey, overpriced, dilapidated New York City. Probably the biggest flaw in the story-telling is what on earth Annie sees in Alvy in the first place, as it is she who strikes up conversation with him initially and invites him back to her apartment first.   

The film is, indeed, dated. This ranges from the fact that Annie is paying $400 a month for a Manhattan apartment with a balcony and can somehow afford food, through to the quiet, simplistic, dialogue-heavy story which nowadays comes across as drab, unfulfilling and a little pointless. I suspect it fits in better in the '70s, a time when Annie’s fashion sense and independence, and Alvy’s dysfunctional personal life and social inferiority revolutionarily inverted typical gender roles in films. No longer is the hero the cleverer, stronger, more emotionally resilient half of the couple - now it is the heroine. 

Highlight

I did enjoy the scene early on when Alvy and Annie are lining up for a four-hour documentary about Nazis. Alvy becomes increasingly frustrated with another cinema-goer who is loudly expressing his (much more educated) opinion behind them, to the point where Alvy imagines himself outwitting the man by bringing on aforementioned philosopher Malcolm McLuhan to explicitly berate him. 

Lowlight

The beginning of the love story itself is flawed to me. As far as I can see, there is nothing to draw gorgeous go-getter Annie towards sombre Alvy whatsoever, so why does she even approach him? Girl, do better.

Mark

4/10

49. Faye Dunaway in 'Network' (1976)

 

Plot intro

Long-standing news anchor Howard Beale (Peter Finch) finds out from his friend and colleague Max Schumacher (William Holden) that he is being fired in two weeks due to declining ratings. Struggling to come to terms with this, Beale suddenly shirks off his news duties and starts giving emotional, inspirational and incendiary political rants. The network is furious at first, but when ambitious programmer Diana Christensen points out that ratings are up. Diana and a reluctant Max team up to exploit Howard’s on-air mental breakdowns for all the ratings they can get. Can they keep such popularity going, or will Howard go too far…?

Paul says...

Faye Dunaway is an actress whose reputation precedes her. She is hailed as both one of the greatest actresses around, but also one of the most difficult to work with. Her reputation as “demanding” does seem to be a result of the usual chauvinist dismissal of any woman who questions male authority, but at the same time there is some smoke…so there must be a fire. She was reportedly late or randomly absent during the making of The Towering Inferno, clashed with director Roman Polanski when making Chinatown, and is known for requesting more retakes than directors are often willing to provide. The ever-outspoken Bette Davis (herself a victim of being labelled “demanding”) criticised Dunaway for unprofessionalism, intimating that the younger actress would turn up late and not know her lines. Most recently, behind-the-scenes footage of Dunaway shooting an ad came to light in which she abruptly asks someone behind the camera to leave because they are “right in my eyeline”. 

On the flipside, many other directors and actors have said completely the opposite, complimenting her attention to detail and her tenacious quest for perfectionism in her work. The director and co-stars of Network seem to have all had a positive experience with her, including William Holden with whom she had an altercation during the making of The Towering Inferno. Dunaway has also written about her experience with bipolar disorder which probably contributed to her alleged behind-the-scenes behaviours. 

Whatever the truth is (and we will probably never know it), there’s no denying that Dunaway nails this role in Network, which led to her third Oscar nomination and her only win. Diana Christensen is arguably one of the Best Actress roles that is hardest to like. Ambitious is an understatement, she is a ruthless, ratings-hungry, TV executive with all the sympathy and bedside manner of an anaconda. She herself admits that she is useless at friendships, love, domestic affairs or hobbies- all she is good at is work. Dunaway captivates this by seeming to always have Diana moving- circling assistants and execs whom she is trying to persuade, seduce or intimidate (or all three) like a shark. In one scene, she watches Howard’s performances with an insatiable lasciviousness whilst stuffing a sandwich into her mouth, uniting her professional ambition with food-hunger and even some underlying sexual enjoyment. 

This all works in wonderful contrast to William Holden’s performance as the old-fashioned, more soft-spoken, sympathetic Max, who reluctantly goes along with Diana’s manipulation of Howard and his skyrocketing ratings. Through them, the film dissects the idea of “old” and “new” programming, the former valuing integrity, dignity and respect, the latter valuing ratings, hysteria and excitement. 

Network as a whole is a high-energy, biting and weirdly prescient satire of the dumbing-down of news. Howard’s sensationalised but politically vague rants on air, which usually culminate in the audience yelling about how angry they are about the world and Howard fainting, are akin to the sort of emotive and fact-lite rants one might get from Donald Trump, Piers Morgan, or Jordan Peterson (as well as many others). These sorts of “news” anchors and political activists, regulars on Fox or GB News, deliver diatribes against “wokeism”, political correctness and diversity amongst a myriad of other topics but with very little research or evidence involved, somehow conning swathes of viewers into thinking that they are intelligent commentators. Howard does the same, although he genuinely believes what he is saying and is being puppeteered by Diana and Max. So prescient was the film that some of the satire does get a little lost to modern eyes. George Clooney apparently showed Network to some film students and was surprised to find that they didn’t know it was meant to be satirical, the plot and themes being so similar to modern-day news programming. 

Everyone in Network is having a whale of a time. Every actor is almost exhausting themselves with the fast-paced, crescendoing dialogue, and it’s easy to see why the film garnered a whopping five acting nominations at the Oscars and won three. The script is a flowing, effervescent ocean of thrilling speeches, rants and arguments (Aaron Sorkin, who wrote The West Wing and The Social Network has cited it as an influence), and while the satirical edge might be lost, Network remains a funny, whacky and dark dissection of news versus entertainment.  

Highlight: There’s a lot of fun scenes in this, but I think one of the most poignant is when Max and Diana hook up. Diana can’t stop discussing work but still manages to put some passion and orgasm into her actions, while Max seems to silently enjoy this combination of work and pleasure.

Lowlight: The final 10 minutes, in which the TV execs decide to assassinate Howard, feels a bit out-of-keeping with the rest of the film. I think this is where the satirical edge becomes fuzzy. To '70s audiences, the entire film is fantastical and ridiculous so the fantastic and ridiculous ending syncs up. But to us, it doesn’t, because modern news shows are not too far away from Howard’s insane performances. 

Mark: 8/10

Doug says...

Whatever you may think about Faye Dunaway, Network gives her the platform to prove she’s got acting chops. Leaving all the controversy aside - and as Paul says, there’s a history of chauvinism in Hollywood that sees ambitious and dedicated women labelled as ‘power hungry’ or ‘demanding’ - this was an absolutely terrific watch. 

What I loved so much, watching this in 2024, was the slightly chilling realisation that when they made this film in the mid ‘70s, they thought this was a preposterous, over the top scenario. However when we watch it, we nod our heads and say ‘of course’. Because it is the case that the news is no longer purely factual, it has become entertainment. And while we may not have tarot card readers on the air, we have hugely controversial figures hired to stir up feelings and gain viewership. Numbers are what matters, not ethics. 

It’s in her role as Diana that Dunaway sparkles. From the off, she is quick, sharp and takes no prisoners. We see her threaten her dull-eyed team with unemployment and she cuts a feminine yet ball-busting figure in a grey suited male environment. She’s ahead of the curve in that she sees that the old regime of news and television is dying and that viewership numbers are all that matters now. 

I think it’s an exquisite performance, Dunaway completely inhabits the role (we can tell she must be a perfectionist) through the comic scenes where she orgasms while discussing work to the sadder scenes where she loses her relationship because of her refusal to discuss anything other than her work. 

This is the weaker part of the film for me - the romance with much-older Max is a little uninteresting and apparently was significantly reduced in the recent National Theatre production. The news story, with Howard rapidly deteriorating, is far more gripping and on the nose, and it’s no surprise that Aaron Sorkin puts this film as one of his influences. The quick talking, business like dialogue whisks the film along and never lets you get ahead of the plot. 

I will also do a shout-out to Beatrice Straight who won Best Supporting Actress for this film and to this day holds the record for winning with the smallest amount of screen time (five minutes and two seconds). It’s a beautifully nuanced performance in which she pleads with her unfaithful husband not to go, before changing her mind - aware that he will one day return to her. Along with Peter Finch as the deranged Howard Beale, these three winners thoroughly deserve their shiny Oscars. 

I disagree with Paul about the ending - although it is more noticeably satirical to us than the rest of the film, I think we do actually live in a world where a slightly more conspiracy-loving reviewer could see television executives enacting a murder to protect their numbers.  

Highlight: I loved the moment where Diana sees Howard ranting and raving, and realises what this could do for their numbers. Her eyes actually shine with excitement and ambition - it’s a layered performance that’s head and shoulders above many of her fellow winners. 

Lowlight: I think the romance sub-plot does get in the way a little - it’s sometimes at odds with the rapid-pace of the story. I wonder if it would even be included if this film were made today as it doesn’t really add anything.

Mark: 9/10

48. Louise Fletcher in 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' (1975)

     

Plot intro

Rogueish rapscallion Randall McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) feigns mental instability to avoid a prison sentence and is admitted to a mental ward run by authoritative dictator Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). As Randall befriends and starts to sympathise with the various patients, he unleashes a campaign of rebellion and defiance against Ratched’s regime. 

Doug says...

Okay now hear me out. One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest is a seminal piece of film-making, boasting some of the most legendary performances. It tackles the idea of mental health institutions and pits the ideology of anarchic chaos against state-mandated cruelty. It’s also really bloody dull. 

I’ve now watched this film twice and both times I’ve paused it at the halfway mark and been like ‘there’s still another hour to go?!?’ I understand that to many film buffs, this is absolute blasphemy but frankly please don’t make me watch another two hour film devoid of any humour or lightness set in a mental institute again. I understand how it plays with the visuals of freedom versus imprisonment, I just don’t really care. 

It’s a win for Louise Fletcher who manages to deliver an incredibly precise performance, scaled back and without any great crescendo. Fletcher conveys Nurse Ratched’s determination to keep order and control very well, although the script doesn’t allow her nearly as much cruelty as the actual novel does. I read online that Ratched in the film is meant to embody institutional dictatorship. She isn’t evil, so much as she is a corporation unwilling to bend to individual demand. 

The problem is that Jack Nicholson’s McMurphy is so unlikable and chaotic that you don’t really root for anyone and so this two hour misery-fest stretches into oblivion. There are constant scenes where McMurphy nearly escapes and is halted, and the ultimate ending is meant to be devastating but frankly comes as sweet relief from watching this film anymore. I don’t really understand why Nicholson’s performance is so legendary here, but Fletcher deserves her win. 

This to me is up there with The Godfather. A classic film that bored me to tears and I never want to watch again. I put these in the category of ‘Straight Men films’, proof if ever I needed it that my tastes are fully in the queer realm. 

Highlight

The tragic crescendo with Billy is well handled and one of the few moments I actually snapped back into the story. 

Lowlight

That whole boating escapade. It felt totally unnecessary and overly symbolic (oh they’ve escaped to be on the rolling sea, searching for new lands of freedom only to be brought back into their prison). 

Mark

3/10

Paul says...

Sometimes an actor nails a role so hard that they spend the rest of their career and life eternally associated with that role, and nothing else (regardless of however many acting gigs they might get). Such is the case with Louise Fletcher, whose ice-cold, soft-spoken, regal performance as Nurse Ratched earned her the accolade as fifth-greatest film villain, according to the American Film Institute (surpassed only by the Wicked Witch of the West, Darth Vader, Norman Bates and Hannibal Lecter). So strong, memorable and popular was her performance that many of her other acting credits are overshadowed. Arguably her second best-known is a recurring guest role in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in which she pretty much plays an alien version of Nurse Ratched. 

Cuckoo’s Nest was a monster hit in the '70s, becoming the second of just three films to win an Oscar Grand Slam (Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress and Screenplay). It is a classic bit of '70s filmmaking, unsubtly depicting the battle between not so much good and evil but more order and chaos. Randall represents chaos - erratic, scruffy and outspoken, addicted to gambling, sex, drink, drugs and partying but also encourages self-expression. Ratched is order - not a hair out of place and her voice almost never crescendos. She knows exactly what she is doing at all times. However, her therapeutic techniques leave a lot to be desired. She rations or forbids any kind of enjoyable activity, ranging from cigarettes to television. She is inflexible towards others’ suggestions but changes the rules of her ward so that she gets her own way. Most reprehensibly, she sex-shames one of the youngest patients (whose mother is a friend of Ratched’s and paying her to keep him there) to the point where he dies by suicide. Even her assistant nurse looks terrified of her. On a simplistic level, the audience (and a '70s audience brought up on The Godfather in particular) is cheering on anti-establishment Randall and booing bureaucratic Ratched. 

But scratch beneath the surface and, regardless of the outstanding acting, you start to see some of the more outdated, questionable and problematic elements of Cuckoo’s Nest. Randall is not someone who, by today’s standards, is a hero. His sexual proclivity is far from admirable, especially seeing as he is serving a prison sentence for having sex with an underage girl. He is sexist, lecherous, uncouth, insulting, and borderline racist. His actions of breaking out the inmates for an illicit fishing trip or smuggling alcohol into the ward, while exciting and admirable for the wannabe-alphas in the audience, are, when you think about it, downright dangerous. Randall has no idea if alcohol will have ill effects on these patients, many of whom take daily medications. Nor does he know what to do if any of them suddenly have a panic attack in the middle of the ocean. What, to a '70s audience, might seem like “sticking it to the man”, to us seems irresponsible and unnecessary when you could just contact the Designated Safeguarding Lead. 

The film also borders dangerously close to misogyny. Indeed, Ratched is the only major female character, literally surrounded by men. The only significant others are her perennially frightened assistant nurse, and two brassy prostitutes. This film was made at the height of second-wave feminism, during which women were fighting for greater financial independence, equal opportunities in the work force and greater respect for their bodies. Of course, disgruntled males didn’t take to well to this and, as a consequence, Cuckoo’s Nest could be interpreted as a film against female authority, depicting a woman in power as sexless (she makes no mention of a partner or children so evidently she is unfulfilled), cruel and repressive of men’s natural need to have sex, play basketball, get drunk and be raucous. This is a film directed, written by and starring men so perhaps Ratched is a negative depiction of what men saw as the liberated woman. 

It is also possible that neither Randall nor Ratched are meant to be supportable. Randall is, indeed, too unpredictable, his actions and words leading him to be deprived of what he wants, tortured and eventually lobotomised. Meanwhile, Ratched is too ruthless, with her actions leading to her becoming powerless, humiliated and disrespected. In this tale of order vs chaos, perhaps we’re meant to perceive neither as perfect and a balance of the two is needed. This balance is achieved through Chief Bromden, a quiet, huge Native American patient, who, incidentally, narrates the original novel. While he maintains his serenity and self-control, through Randall’s chaos he finds his voice (literally and figuratively) and partakes occasionally in the conflict and partying that Randall brings. He symbolically balances his chaos and order and it is he, no one else, who manages to escape the confines of the hospital - he is the one who manages to fly the cuckoo’s nest.

After four or five viewings, do I like Cuckoo’s Nest? Generally, yes. It has enthralling and powerful scenes, and some of the best acting in movie history. It was the starting point of many big names, not just Fletcher but also Danny Devito, Brad Dourif, Christopher Lloyd and Vincent Schiavelli. The problem is that the lack of a sympathetic female voice, and the depiction of Randall as the hero of the piece in a post-Me-Too world dates the film considerably.

Highlight

The climactic scene involving Billy’s suicide and Randall animalistically attacking Ratched, nearly strangling her to death. In the film she is left with a croaky, less authoritative voice but the book is more punitive - she can no longer speak at all and many patients leave the ward before her return from sick leave.

Lowlight

The lack of a feminine perspective dates the film tremendously. All it needs is one benevolent authoritative female voice (perhaps a Head Nurse like Ratched who follows more sympathetic medical techniques) to balance things and reassure viewers that the film doesn’t hate women. 

Mark

7/10