Hugh Jackman in The Son and Brendan Fraser in The Whale: two Oscar-friendly performances in movies critics have scorned.
Photo: Rekha Garton/See-Saw Films Limited/Courtesy of See-Saw Films/Sony Pictures Classics/A24
Despite all of the hoopla around the Slap and the snub, Best Actor still has a status as one of the snoozier Oscar categories. Not this year! Based on what I saw out of the Toronto International Film Festival this month, we have to brace ourselves for the 2023 Best Actor race to get messy as hell. Not as a end result of I concern any of the contenders are about to break out in fisticuffs — though in the occasion that they do, my money’s on Bill Nighy — but for the unlucky fact that TIFF’s two most Oscar-friendly performances happened to return from movies that a sizable chunk of the critical group absolutely loathed.
Ask any pundit, and they’ll let you know that the early Best Actor front-runner is The Whale’s Brendan Fraser, whom GoldDerby at present pegs at 7/2 odds to take residence the trophy. The logic is sound: Fraser is a former A-lister making a comeback in an art-house film (check) by which he undergoes a radical bodily transformation (double-check) to play a 600-pound man making an attempt to reconnect along with his daughter (triple-check) during what will be the last week of his life (quadruple-check). The Oscar bid kicked off mere seconds after The Whale completed screening at Venice, where a clip of Fraser being moved to tears by the film’s lengthy standing ovation went viral. The lovefest continued at TIFF, where the actor obtained the festival’s Tribute Award and charmed the room with a humble, good-humored acceptance speech in which he revealed the final time he’d won a trophy was in an eighth-grade peewee-hockey league.
The Fraser bandwagon is rolling so quick it appears on the verge of leaving The Whale itself behind. From the place I’m sitting, that might be a great thing, as a result of individuals who don’t like this movie actually don’t like it. The film relies on a play by Samuel D. Hunter, who channeled his own struggles together with his weight into the story. But while a play is contained sufficient to work as an expression of 1 man’s self-disgust, if you fill it with movie stars, put Darren Aronofsky behind the digital camera, and make it the centerpiece of a gold-plated awards campaign, that “self” tends to slide away and you’re left with merely … disgust. After The Whale’s TIFF premiere, my colleague Alison Willmore slammed Aronofsky for “filming the main character’s body and depression-fueled binging like it’s the stuff of a monster movie.” Richard Lawson of Vanity Fair known as it “a sort of leering horror, a portrait of a man gone to catastrophic ruin so that we, in the audience, could faucet into our nobler, larger minds and see the worthy human being beneath the frightful exterior.” Polygon’s Katie Rife noticed solely “pity, buried under a thick, smothering layer of contempt.”
The question for A24, which is releasing The Whale, is whether or not any of this dissension will matter. A frequent chorus in the TIFF press lounge was “Didn’t love the movie, beloved the performance.” (The movie does have loads of supporters, together with my different esteemed colleague Bilge Ebiri, who known as its finale “shattering and exquisite and sincere.”) While it’s straightforward to be cynical about everything The Whale represents vis-à-vis the Oscars, it’s exhausting to work up that very same acid for Fraser himself — there’s no guile in his eyes. At the Tribute Awards, a pair at my table puzzled in regards to the outpouring of emotion that greeted his entrance. Was this guy really regarded as a severe actor? I told them it was more like he was an old friend, somebody we’d grown up watching in foolish motion pictures lastly getting his moment to bask within the glow of status. And that was earlier than Fraser gave his speech, stuffed with jokes about how, whereas he’d never been given a trophy earlier than, he’d had plenty of apply handing them out. “The trick is left hand hold, proper hand shake.” Take it from somebody who was there: It simply feels good to offer Brendan Fraser awards. Maybe that’ll be enough.
If the anti-Whale contingent seeks one other contender to rally round, it probably won’t be Florian Zeller’s The Son, which a lot of them disdain nearly as a lot. It’s Zeller’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning breakout The Father, and like that one, this too is an English-language adaptation of a drama initially written for the Paris stage. Hugh Jackman stars as a high-flying Manhattan lawyer with a young spouse (Vanessa Kirby) and an infant son, having left in Brooklyn an ex-wife (Laura Dern) and a son (Zen McGrath) whose teenage ennui is starting to look so much like medical melancholy. The solution? The kid’ll move across the river to stay with Dad, and issues will be peachy once more.
But as we saw in The Father, there are some issues that can’t be repaired by proximity, though it’s exhausting for this father, an inveterate optimist, to notice. (Jackman’s efficiency is a case examine of what folks on-line name “toxic positivity.”) As he did in his predecessor, Zeller is tapping into potent veins of familial emotion — denial, guilt, grief — and there weren’t many dry eyes in the home in my TIFF screening as Jackman’s character was lastly confronted with the enormity of his failure. Unfortunately, the driest ones belonged to reviewers I spoke to. In our Critics newsletter, Alison, who beloved The Father, boggled at the fact that this “emotionally fraudulent” film had come from the same individual: “I was shocked by how unhealthy it was … there’s an odd stiltedness to it that hangs over everything.” In half, this is a consequence of the fabric being tailored twice over: not simply the literal translation, but additionally the sense of placelessness that comes from casting three of the four leads with Commonwealth actors placing on American accents. But it also stems from what THR’s David Rooney calls the “elegant austerity of Zeller’s course,” which turns the film “into a punishing slog.”
Much of the scorn heaped upon The Son facilities on its final act, which I won’t spoil besides to note that Indiewire’s David Ehrlich pegged it as “the single most sadistic ending to any film this aspect of Lars von Trier’s Antichrist.” That type of advance warning creates its own sense of dread — Oh God, they’re actually doing this — and my very own expertise of watching the film was mirrored by journalist Daniel Joyaux, who recalled “a second toward the top when I thought to myself, If this is as shamelessly manipulative as people are saying, Thing X would randomly occur right about now. And within seconds of that thought, Thing X occurred.”
But like Fraser, Jackman’s efficiency is getting a slight pass as the pans focus their ire on the script and course. “Infusing the part with just sufficient clueless self-importance … Jackman mines real tragedy from [his character’s] myopia,” says Ehrlich. Considering The Son’s pedigree, and how open the Best Actor field is, he appears a solid bet for a nomination. (GoldDerby has him ranked fourth.) If the rest, voters could merely really feel so unhealthy for him at the end of the movie that they’ll do something to cheer him up.
Which leaves us with a Lead Actor race that’s primed for drama, one where the highest-profile contenders come from movies that have become crucial punching baggage, and even followers of each actor are slightly sheepish in regards to the reality their long-awaited nominations are coming from these particular films. But that’s par for the course on the opposite side of the ballot. Have we lastly got a Best Actor race that’s as messy as Best Actress?