::LANGFIELD ENTERTAINMENT:: ENTERTAINMENT NEWS WITH A CANADIAN TWIST::

SmileyCentral.com


                                               

                                               

::NEWSLETTER

::GALLERY

::INTERVIEWS

::CONTACT US

::CARIBBEAN COVERAGE

::FEES

::ARCHIVES

::ABOUT US

::CLIENTS

::ENDORSEMENTS

::OPINIONS

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
::FILM NEWS::   
LE Newsletter - March 11, 2010

 

  Bigelow Is A Director, Plain And Simple

Source:
www.globeandmail.com -Johanna Schneller

(March 08, 2010) The producers of Sunday night’s Academy Awards show obviously were counting on Kathryn Bigelow to win best director for The Hurt Locker when they booked Barbra Streisand to open the envelope. Streisand, a showbiz icon as an actress and a singer, is also the director of three features, and she has been a long-time, vocal critic of how the Hollywood boys’ club marginalizes women filmmakers. Bigelow, whose eight features can hold their own against any action helmer’s, was only the fourth woman to be nominated for best director. Oscar knew it had a potentially historic moment on its hands, and made the most of it. As did Streisand: Upon opening the envelope, she touched her heart and breathed, “Well, the time has come,” before announcing Bigelow’s name. (I imagine she would have looked quite different if “James Cameronhttp://images.intellitxt.com/ast/adTypes/mag-glass_10x10.gif” had been in there.)

But if anyone was expecting Bigelow to wax emotional about the sacrifices of the women who had gone before her, as Halle Berry did in 2002 when she became the first African American to win best actress, they were sorely disappointed. That’s not how Bigelow rolls. “I try to distance myself from gender distinctions,” she told me when I interviewed her in 2002. “They seem arcane to me. I suppose it [being a woman director] is seen as a novelty, but it’s also a ghettoization.”

Bigelow is a director, no adjective required. She’s 58 but looks nearly 20 years younger (and is currently dating Mark Boal, 36, who also won an Oscar on Sunday night, for writing The Hurt Locker). She’s six feet tall and unafraid to wear heels. She scuba-dives, mountain-bikes and practises yoga. She speaks in a soft, lilting voice, and her sentences are beautifully composed, full of complex clauses, with nary a split infinitive. And her films, though varying widely in subject and tone, are all infused with some serious macha.

The Loveless (1982), starring Willem Dafoe, is about bikers ripping up a small southern U.S. town. In Near Dark (1987), she hipped up the western genre by making her cowboys, played by then-newcomers Bill Paxton, Lance Henriksen, Adrian Pasdar and James LeGros, into vampires, and shot it in 40 nights straight. She gave
Jamie Lee Curtishttp://images.intellitxt.com/ast/adTypes/mag-glass_10x10.gif a really big gun and a fetish for shooting it in Blue Steel (1990), and she cast Keanu Reeves as an Federal Bureau of Investigation agent who infiltrates a gang of surfing, skydiving bank robbers led by Patrick Swayze in Point Break (1991). In 1995’s Strange Days – written by her ex-husband, James Cameron (they met in 1986 and divorced in 1991) – she cast Angela Bassett and Ralph Fiennes as ex-cops experimenting with avatars long before Avatar.

I first met Bigelow on the Nova Scotia set of The Weight of Water (2002), about a researcher (Catherine McCormack) who is pulled into a 100-year-old murder mystery; Sean Penn and Sarah Polley also starred. I also spent time with her while she was editing 2002’s K-19: The Widowmaker, starring Harrison Ford and Liam Neeson, based on the true story of a Soviet nuclear submarine rocked by a near-meltdown off the coast of Iceland in 1961. With a budget of $90-million, it was the costliest movie ever made – and the first time Ford had ever been directed – by a woman.

Bigelow earns more raves than she does dollars, however. The Hurt Locker may be the first film directed by a woman to win best picture, but it is also the lowest-grossing winner in modern history. She is drawn to challenging material, which she makes independently, outside the studio mainstream, on insanely small budgets. She doesn’t merely direct, she spends years researching stories and developing scripts with her writers. (That’s why she has made only eight in 27 years.) For K-19, for example, she travelled to Russia to examine nuclear subs first-hand, pored over military documents and extensively interviewed fusion experts at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. “How do you design a shot if you don’t understand the underlying mechanics?” she asked me. “How can you convey the information without knowing it yourself?”

She has always been independent. The only child of liberal-minded, middle-class Norwegian parents in San Carlos, Calif. – her late mother was a high-school English teacher; her late father managed a paint factory – Bigelow started painting at the age of 6, and for a while made that her career. She graduated from the San Francisco Art Institute, did postgraduate work at New York University and Columbia, and made her first film, Set-Up, a 20-minute short, with a $2,000 grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. While teaching a six-month class at the California Institute of the Arts in Los Angeles, she met director Walter Hill. He offered her a job and she never looked back.

Bigelow excels at making tiny budgets look bigger. To make her vampires in Near Dark appear to catch fire in the sun, she tucked ashtray-like contraptions full of lit cigarettes under her actors’ clothes. To show her sailboat being whipped by a storm in The Weight of Water, she anchored it just off the dock at the Chester Yacht Club in Nova Scotia, affixed a long rope to the main mast, handed it to a dozen burly men and had them run up and down the dock to rock it back and forth, while motorized rubber rafts zipped around churning waves.

But for all her love of action, Bigelow’s films stand out because they are also careful character studies. The bomb-defusing scenes in The Hurt Locker are textbook exemplars of tension, rendered with the kind of exquisite shots and lens usage of 1970s classics, but it’s the off-duty scenes – such as the men erupting in a spontaneous-looking fist fight – that give it the human texture that makes us feel something.

“My goal is to make material as accessible as possible, but with a conscience,” she told me. “So I include some genre elements, which gives you a comfort level, and then I add other dimensions, which you don’t see coming, to make you walk out of the theatre and think. But it can’t be pedagogical. You have to keep the material subversive, so it doesn’t reveal itself. I’ll crawl through fire for that.”

Maybe now, with her film winning six Oscars, she will be able to afford a bigger fire.