Showing posts with label Laura. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laura. Show all posts

Best Cinematography, 1944

Awards presented March 15, 1945
The nominees were ...

(Black-and-White) 

(Color) 
And the Oscar went to ... 
(Black-and-White) 

Joseph LaShelle and Otto Preminger filming Laura
Laura is probably too sumptuous to qualify as true film noir, the characteristically gritty triumph of 1940s filmmaking, but LaShelle's work on it has the noir touch: a heavy use of shadow and high-contrast lighting. Notice below, in the shot of Laura finding McPherson asleep in her living room, how the light emphasizes the glamour of Laura's portrait, in contrast to the rather washed-out real Laura in her plain hooded raincoat. Will McPherson be as fascinated by the real person as by the painted one? And the high-contrast shot as McPherson turns a lamp on Laura as he's grilling her is pure noir. LaShelle had gone to work as a lab tech at Paramount in 1920, planning to earn money for college, but he stayed on, working as an assistant to cinematographer Charles Clarke. He moved to other studios before winding up at Fox, where he worked with cinematographer Arthur C. Miller. He became a full-fledged director of photography in 1943. Laura was his first major film, and it won him his only Oscar, though he received eight more nominations. His was the only Oscar won by the film.
The supposedly dead Laura (Gene Tierney) discovers the detective (Dana Andrews) asleep before her portrait. 
McPherson interrogates Laura 
(Color) 

This was Shamroy's second Oscar, and he won another the following year, for Leave Her to Heaven, doing something in both films that was uncommon at the time: filming a drama in Technicolor. By the time he won his fourth, for the 1963 Cleopatra, color filming was commonplace, but the conventional thinking at the time was that color was suitable only for musicals and spectacles, that it would be a distraction from a drama. Today, color is almost the only thing of interest about Wilson.  

... when it should have gone to ... 
(Color) 

George Folsey
Judy Garland was painfully self-conscious about her looks. With her snub nose and high forehead she was hardly a conventional Hollywood beauty. But she never looked more attractive than she did in Meet Me in St. Louis. It helped that she was having an affair with, and would marry, the movie's director, Vincente Minnelli, who knew exactly how he wanted her filmed. So she had not only the assistance of MGM's hair and makeup department and Irene Sharaff's costumes, but also the lighting and camerawork of Folsey. He never won an Oscar, though he was nominated thirteen times, but did receive a lifetime achievement award from the American Society of Cinematographers in 1988.   Meet Me in St. Louis remains one of his landmark films, and one of the handsomest musicals to come out of the MGM production unit headed by Arthur Freed. Folsey later recalled how two of the movie's most memorable scenes were filmed. The Christmas Eve sequence, with the yard full of snowmen seen from Margaret O'Brien's bedroom window, was complexly lighted, and once it had been put in place and filmed, one of the electricians came to Folsey and told him that his readings showed it to be seriously underexposed. Instead, the results were haunting, perfectly in key with O'Brien's hysterical destruction of the snowmen. In the scene in which Tom Drake helps Garland extinguish the gaslights throughout the house, the lighting had to change as each fixture is extinguished. Instead of using dimmer switches, Folsey had Venetian blinds rigged to close in sequence. Though a classic, Meet Me in St. Louis received no Oscars.
Lucille Bremer and Judy Garland in Meet Me in St. Louis
Margaret O'Brien and Garland
Garland sings about the boy next door
Tom Drake and Garland dim the lights 
O'Brien, Garland, and the snowmen

 

Best Actor, 1944

Awards presented March 15, 1945
The nominees were ...

... when they should have been ... 

If the film weren't such a sticky bit of sentimental claptrap, I wouldn't mind agreeing with the Academy's choice of Crosby. The Oscar has seldom gone to skilled, likable actors like Crosby, whose work is sadly underestimated in favor of the scenery chewers. Even then, his win was a mild upset: The smart money had been on Boyer for Gaslight, a scenery-chewing role if ever there was one. There is little in Crosby's Oscar-winning role that hadn't been seen in the dozens of movies he had made since his debut in King of Jazz in 1930: an easygoing manner, an ability to make singing look as natural as talking, and good comic timing. It had made him a box-office champ, and now it won him an Oscar. 

... when it should have gone to ... 

Andrews in Laura 
McPherson, the obsessed detective, is Andrews's best-known role, and it might have earned him an Oscar nomination if 20th Century-Fox hadn't been so eager to push its flop biopic Wilson and nominated the near-forgotten Alexander Knox instead. Andrews got his start at the Pasadena Playhouse, where a Goldwyn scout spotted him, but Goldwyn found little for him to do and he wound up doing most of his work at Fox, playing small roles and second leads in such films as The Westerner, Ball of Fire, and The Ox-Bow Incident. Laura offered a break into major leads, but his role in it has been underestimated partly because he had to play against such scene-stealing hams as Clifton Webb, Vincent Price, and Judith Anderson, not to mention Gene Tierney, whose Laura has been put on the edge of sanity by the manipulations of Webb. But Andrews, beautifully directed by Otto Preminger, is able to convey that McPherson, the most ostensibly normal person in the film is also, in his obsessive way, a little bit crazy, tamping down his obsession with a hand-held game that he constantly fiddles with. Laura gave Andrews greater name recognition, and he returned to Goldwyn for The Best Years of Our Lives and perhaps his best role, as the returning bombardier forced by the post-war economy to resume his old inglorious job as a soda jerk. But his later career was undistinguished, partly because of Andrews's descent into alcoholism -- he would later make a widely seen public-service announcement urging alcoholics to seek treatment -- and partly because the films of the 1950s and '60s were looking for younger leading men.  
Clifton Webb and Dana Andrews in Laura 

Best Picture, 1944

Awards presented March 15, 1945

The nominees were ...
... when they should have been ...
And the Oscar went to ...
Going My Way. This gooey heart-warmer about an easygoing parish priest in the inner city is pretty hard to take unless you have a high tolerance for cute kids, cute songs, and cute priests. And in the light of the Catholic church's pedophile scandals, it may even have some rather unpleasant, if unintentional, undertones.

... when it should have gone to ...
Laura
One of the greatest Hollywood mystery thrillers, full of lovable nasties and memorable lines, most of them given to Clifton Webb. It can be faulted today for its touches of homophobia in the treatment of the characters played by Webb and Vincent Price, but they're so deliciously camp that one has to wonder how director Otto Preminger -- always at war with the censors -- got them past the Code enforcers. Dana Andrews is one of the best hard-boiled detectives in movies. Some of us prefer this tale of obsession to Hitchcock's more celebrated treatment of the same subject in Vertigo. Considering that it was a smash hit, it's surprising that Laura didn't earn a best picture nomination, but 20th Century-Fox head Darryl F. Zanuck was determined to put his promotional muscle behind his big biopic Wilson, which got a nomination and was still a flop.