I'm so close to completing my mini-project of watching all the Best Picture winners. I now only have one left, 1967's Oliver! I never would've guessed my last two Best Picture winners would be from the 60s and not the 40s. I mean, it wouldn't've been my first, second, or third guess. Probably my fourth. Sigh. You know what I mean. Here we are though. This belongs to a forgettable group of winners in the 60s. Coming off the epics and musicals, right before New Hollywood took hold, there was a mini-era of these British Best Picture winners like, Tom Jones and Oliver!
Most of the movie is pretty dull. Just a dramatized history lesson of Henry VIII breaking England from the Catholic church that sidesteps some of the more salacious aspects. It didn't grab my attention much until the trial at the very end, which I quite liked. In fact, I wouldn't mind if a few clips from that came as part of the standard user agreement on Twitter to help remind people about free speech and whatnot. I was impressed with Paul Scofield's ability to stay dignified throughout, which made the few times he broke, like when his family was being taken away from his prison cell, hit harder. Of the Best Picture nominees I've seen from that year, I can definitely see how this won over the less serious The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming and the more scandalous Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Verdict: Weakly Don't Recommend
No comments:
Post a Comment