Tag Archives: Oscar contender

TIFF18: If Beale Street Could Talk

If this movie review could talk it would say: wow. And also: thank you.

How is it possible that Barry Jenkins is making GOAT movies right out of the gate? Is he for real?

If Beale Street Could Talk is about a love story, interrupted. Tish (KiKi Layne) and Alonzo (Stephan James) are young lovers and the world is theirs as they fall in love inside their bubble. He’s respectful, she’s adorable, they’re so in sync their clothes begin to match, the colours mirroring each other as they walk hand in hand in a highly-saturated stroll through the park, the perfect date that just happens to end at prison, where she drops him off. Alonzo is going away for rape – a crime he didn’t commit, not that the justice system particularly cares. Beale Street is both love story and tragedy at the same time.

The most powerful thing about this film, and indeed about James Baldwin’s original work, is how little shock we see from either family – and both families, and their community, rallies around them. And of course they’re upset, they’re devastated, and they should be angry and incredulous, but no one seems all that astonished that such a MV5BMjMxMWQ5MjctN2MwMC00ZGY1LWJkNWUtNmUwOWFmYzAyNWJjXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNTE4NTE0NjU@._V1_thing could happen, because of course they’ve seen it happen before. So they swing into action, because they know the drill. Though they have little money, they will fund-raise and do whatever it takes to work the case themselves because they know whatever lawyer’s appointed to them will be inadequate (though he’s actually not painted as a bad guy, interestingly), and that the system is rigged is against them. They aren’t wrong.

I said earlier that this was a love story, interrupted. Thanks to director Barry Jenkins’ genius, that’s true on more than one count. First, the literal one, where the two lovers are separated just as she’s discovering they’re pregnant and would have made a home together. Through flash backs we see their love story, and it’s beautiful in its simplicity, in its sweetness, but every scene is tainted by our knowledge of where it ends up. Jenkins obviously has a respect for the poetry of Baldwin’s prose. He uses it as a bridge between scenes, uniting flashbacks which almost seem dream-like with the harsh realities and razor-precision detail of their present day (1970s). The interruption is an opportunity for Jenkins to show how lyrically he can manipulate time as well as genre. Because for every pause he takes to explore a character and make note of some sweet detail, this story is also infused with a greater cry for social justice. This Beale Street could be any Beale Street. Alonzo could be any black man. And the system of oppression, which is not limited to crime and punishment, applies just as much today as it did then. This is a cry meant to be heard across generations.

James Laxton’s stunning cinematography helps establish not just breathtaking film, but black culture itself, the streets coming alive and vibrant under his lens. The way Jenkins plays with colour astonishes me, the virginal whites, the lust-drenched reds; somehow this movie is everything a movie can be. It’s everything. And this is only Jenkins’ third feature. The costumes are perfection. The set design is perfection. The way the camera talks to us, showing us where to linger, communicating hunger, or desperation, or separation. The emphasis is masterful but never gets in the way of itself.

Beale Street’s ensemble cast is the beating heart of this film, with James and Layne both claiming rights to future stardom. Their fathers (Colman Domingo and Michael Beach) are terrific as well, but for me Tish’s mom Sharon (Regina King) was the real standout. She is fierce and unwavering. The scene in which she confronts Alonzo’s accuser is deeply affecting, and it’s because of King, of the layers of emotion playing out on her face. I couldn’t look away. Notably, I also thought the mother in The Hate U Give (played by Regina Hall) was the best part of the movie, so I’m not sure if black moms are having a moment, or if it’s Reginas specifically, but watch out, they’re coming. Jenkins puts together a cast that becomes the fabric of his film. There is no detail too small to have escaped his love and attention. This is one of the better adaptations I’ve ever seen on film, and possibly the best. It works on so many levels at once you don’t even see the train coming until it hits you. It’s hard to outdo yourself when your last film won Best Picture, but Barry Jenkins is a director not to be fucked with.

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TIFF18: First Man

You know the story. The whole world knows the story. Neil Armstrong, an aeronautical engineer and Apollo astronaut, was the first man to walk on the moon. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” – that was him. American hero, international phenomenon, global icon. First Man is his biopic, tracing the 304400 km path he took from humble test pilot to living legend.

First Man is Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the ethereal La La Land, which made him the youngest Best Director to ever be awarded the prize at the Oscars. To say I was highly anticipating screening this movie at TIFF is like saying Armstrong was kind of an interesting guy – a resounding understatement. But when the lights came back up, I was feeling a little…underwhelmed? Bored? Disconnected.

Feeling uncomfortable with my initial reaction, I turned to my favourite critic in a whole cinema full of press, and invited him to discuss and unpack this movie over sushi burritos. First – Ryan Gosling. He gives a terrifically reserved, very stoic performance as a famously quiet, attention-shirking man. Armstrong is surprisingly passive when encountering life-altering choices. He’s dispassionate. He’s obsessed with technical detail and getting things right but he never seems overly impressed with the great heights involved in his job. Wait a minute – is it possible Neil Armstrong was on the spectrum? To be clear, I’ve never heard that he’s an Aspie, or had high-IQ autism. Nor have I heard it mentioned in the context of this film. However, his wife at the time, Janet (played in the Film Title: First Manmovie by Claire Foy), called him “emotionally disconnected.” In the film, he struggles to speak to fellow astronauts and even his own children, and goes out of his way  not to. But it’s not that he doesn’t care. He clearly grieves the loss of his infant daughter, and thinks of her often. And he’s sensitive to the deaths of his colleagues. But these are internal struggles that rarely get expressed, or expressed correctly. He’s not unfriendly or unapproachable, exactly, but human connection is hard for him. Is undiagnosed autism what Gosling is hinting at with such a performance? And with that question in mind, the rest of the movie unlocks before me.

I trust Damien Chazelle as a director. If I’m feeling underwhelmed, isn’t it because he wants me to? After all, this is the guy who made me sweat while watching a movie about jazz (sorry, jazz). If he wanted me soaring among the stars, he certainly has the vision not to mention the skill. He swept me away with La La Land; I danced out of the theatre even as I ugly-snot-cried. If my feet are more firmly planted on the ground for this film, there has to be a reason.

What if Chazelle is attempting to put us not just in Armstrong’s shoes, but in his head? I felt very removed during the movie, but maybe that’s exactly his intention: to show the greatest, most ambitious, most adrenaline-fueled achievement in the history of humankind through the eyes of someone who doesn’t express feelings in the usual way.

Whoa.

Now that I’m re-examining the film through this  new filter, I realize that I don’t remember Gosling smiling even once in the whole 120+ minutes. He doesn’t cry when he’s sad, nor does he ever appear to be particularly happy. At a pre-flight press conference, a journalist asks him how it feels to find out he’ll be the first to walk on the moon, to which he simply responds “I’m pleased.” Finding this response lacking, the reporter probes further, asking him to compare it to finding out he’d been selected for NASA’s astronaut program, to which Armstrong can only repeat “I’m pleased.” Although he’s certainly capable of more complex emotions, communicating them seems impossible. Another scene that struck me is one in which Armstrong is trying to sneak out of the house without saying goodbye. He’ll be gone for 2 months, strapped to a bomb that will explode him out of the atmosphere to land or crash on the moon and no one knows for sure if he’ll ever come back. His family has attended the funerals of many friends and colleagues who’ve perished in various missions. His two young sons are sad and scared and he tried to sneak away. His wife has to beg him to say a few words, but “I love you” are not among them. Knowing his father doesn’t like hugs, his brave son offers a handshake instead, not knowing if this is to be their last embrace.

This film is strangely muted, with even the score a tad alienating with unfamiliar instruments. And check out that photo from above – doesn’t that blue wash make him seem lonely, and isolated? This great adventure in the sky should be exciting and staggering, but the biggest sensation we’re given is physical discomfort as we’re rumbled and tumbled about during liftoff sequences. Not that Armstrong complains. There’s no swelling pride or patriotism, no heroic speeches or manly tears. In fact, there’s very little awe. In the vastness of space, the screen is often filled with a solitary face. I wonder if the emphasis on extreme close-ups is supposed to symbolize Armstrong’s challenge in deciphering non-verbal cues, or if it’s merely to give us a better view of his consistently flat affect.

The camera seems to offer things up from Armstrong’s point of view – one small chunk of moon dust rather than an entire lunar landscape. His trip into the infinite universe feels very small, and very  humble, but he’s not unmoved. He just has a narrow focus, more fascinated by his own boot print than by the multitude of stars. Does Armstrong feel more at home in the empty quiet of space? Maybe. But we’ll never know because he sure as heck didn’t say so.

If my little theory is correct, I wish I had know it going in rather than piecing it together in hindsight. What more would I have noticed? I can’t wait to re-watch and find out. I can’t wait to appreciate Armstrong and his accomplishments in this new light, and to celebrate Chazelle as a director who can so completely immerse and saturate you in someone else’s experience. Remarkable.

TIFF18: Roma

Roma is the kind of movie that births film criticism. It will be used as the golden example in so many future texts I ache to think how many words will eventually be written about it and can’t quite fathom it.

Mexico City, 1971, a young family is having a rough time. Mom and Dad were fighting a lot, before he left, and now they do it on the phone, when he remembers to call. Four young kids are feeling vulnerable and acting out. Two young servants are trying to keep it all from falling apart. But one of them, Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), is going through her own private crisis as well. She’s pregnant, and the father has run off. Fearing for her job but unable to return home to her religious family, her current situation is tenuous and her future uncertain.

This is the semi-autobiographical work by Alfonso Cuaron about that crazy time in his MV5BNGEyMTgxZDYtOGUyZC00NDk5LWEwYjUtODcxYmZjNjFmZTFkXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTA2ODMzMDU@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,1502,1000_AL_childhood when his beloved maid’s unexpected pregnancy collided with his parents’ bitter divorce. It marked him for life, and all these years later he’s strung together the haunting images from that period and used his memory to paint in the rest. He’s only a minor character in the film, it’s really an ode to the women who raised him: his mother, the two servants, and Mexico herself.

Cuaron immerses us in Mexico circa 1971. Filmed in starkly beautiful black and white, you can’t help but drink it all in, everything from the airplanes overhead, to the geese in flagrante delicto, the muddy markets and the local cinemas, the grassfires and New Year’s Eve traditions, rooftop laundry and candlelit chores, every scene is packed with loving details to a time and place Cuaron clearly treasures. His camera moves slowly, soaking up detail, lingering lovingly in quiet places. His trademark long takes emphasize time and space – the big house compared to the servant’s quarters, and the time Cleo devotes to undoing the naughty work of busy children. The sound design is incredible. At times I was overwhelmed by the layers of noise in the city – hawkers, vendors, tradespeople, cars, trucks, buses, dogs barking, children playing, marching bands tooting their various horns in seemingly random parades.

Roma is of course shot in Spanish and subtitled with care. It is obviously composed with great care as well, with so many interesting angles and viewpoints (a Christmas party filmed at child height, for example) and depths of field. Lensed by Cuaron himself (Emmanuel Lubezki was unavailable, but his collaboration in pre-production means his DNA’s all over it, Cuaron assures us), he often keeps his entire shot in crisp focus, with as much going on in the background as the foreground – but when the focus goes soft, it’s for good reason. Take note.

This film brims with the kind of personal detail that makes it truly unique. I especially liked seeing the young boys clearly obsessed with outer space – posters, toys, and astronaut costumes – you can’t fail to think that these are the origins of Gravity. Indeed, Cuaron has left a little piece of his heart on the screen. It is not sentimental, but it is affectionate, made with love. And I think it will be received, by audiences and the Academy, with nothing but.

Oscars spotlight: Jacqueline Durran

Costume designer Jacqueline Durran received her fifth and sixth Oscar nominations this year for her work on both Beauty and the Beast, and Darkest Hour.

Her first film credit is as “wardrobe mistress” on the 1999 set of Eyes Wide Shut. costume-design-darkest-hour-03From there she was assistant costume designer on 2001’s Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and 2002’s Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. As head costumer she received her first BAFTA nomination and win for Vera Drake in 2005. In 2006 she got her first Oscar nomination for Pride & Prejudice, and followed that up with another in 2008 for Atonement. She won both a BAFTA and an Oscar in 2013 for Anna Karenina. She was a nominee once again in 2015 for Mr. Turner and this year she’s a double nominee – but does that secure her a second win?

Her competition this year is stiff: Mark Bridges, for Phantom Thread (he won the BAFTA), Luis Sequeira for The Shape of Water (he won the Costume Designers Guild award), and Consolata Boyle for Victoria and Abdul (a three-time Oscar nominee).

The Oscar winner for costume design is almost always a period piece. The Costume Designers Guild deals with this advantage by awarding separate prizes for contemporary-set films (I, Tonya won this year) and fantasy (Wonder Woman took home that prize). This year all the nominees are period films and in Durran’s case, both her movies had the added challenge of already being familiar to audiences.

Darkest Hour is the true story of Winston Churchill’s earliest and most difficult days as Prime Minister. Many of the shops on Savile Row who did Churchill’s actual suits still exist today and Durran delved into their ledgers to come up with exact looks costume-design-darkest-hour-01that were then tailored to fit Gary Oldman in a fat suit. She was able to consult old photographs of him to get the details just right. He was pretty fastidious in his wardrobe and a bit of a “dandy” according to Durran. She had a replica of his watch and watch chain made by the original watchmaker, Breguet. She also sourced hats from Churchill’s preferred company, Lock & Co. All of these wardrobe foundations allowed Oldman to look the authentic part while still making the character his own. For Durran, the most fun was probably in dressing Churchill’s wife, Clementine, played by Kristin Scott Thomas. Clemmy was a bit of a fashion risk-taker and was once a milliner, so her wardrobe choices were a bit eccentric and she nearly always had a fabulous hat. You can imagine the kind of fun a costumer can have with that kind of starting point.

Beauty and the Beast is fictional but no less well-known to audiences because of the animated Disney film that came before it. That creates an expectation, though costume-design-batb-01Durran chose not to recreate costumes in exact detail (which of course are lacking in simple line drawings). “My favorite bit of the whole movie is when Belle wakes up in the village, the window opens, and she says, ‘Bonjour!,’ and then you go into the song. You see the whole world of color and pattern—that’s how I wanted the village to be. That was created from an 18th-century reference: a collection of prints of French regional costumes,” says Durran. Emma Watson, who played Belle, informed a lot of the costume choices. Watson wanted Belle to seem like a more modern kind of princess, and her famous blue dress was made to be functional, allowing for movement and activity. The yellow dress, of course, is where the big time and money were spent.  “In the end, it came down to the fact that, really, whatever you want to do with the dress, there is an expectation based on the animation. If you stray too far, it feels like you’re not giving the costume-design-batb-02audience the dress they’re expecting. . . . But if I had actually produced the animated costume, it would have been quite simple and flat and lacking in detail. It’s not a very detailed drawing, when you get down to it. So, I looked to 18th-century France as an inspiration—the historical date and location of the movie. Also, Disney and everybody involved wanted Belle’s dress to be different from the Cinderella dress [in the 2015 live-action movie]. Emma didn’t want to be corseted. She was a more modern princess.” Not to leave out the Beast. Durran had painstakingly recreated the Beast’s costume down to the very last detail but in the end, the studio went with a CGI beast instead, and Dan Stevens ended up wearing one of those monstrous CGI motion capture suits instead. Durran sent her costumes to the animation lab where they studied the fabrics to capture the form and motion. But when he’s not the Beast, the costume work is incredible: “An amazing amount of work went into the prince’s costume in the opening ball sequence, which you don’t really see. It’s got a whole custom embroidery of different kinds of grotesque animals stitched into the pattern. It’s embellished with 20,000 Swarovski crystals that took five days to stitch on.”

Personally, I think Beauty and the Beast is a strong contender for this year’s Oscar. But you can’t discount Phantom Thread – that movie IS fashion, with Daniel Day Lewis playing the designer! You’d be a fool not to consider it. But The Shape of Water needs consideration also. Although the creature’s expressions were enhanced by CGI, the creature itself is not visual effects but a man (Doug Jones) in a very clever costume.

Who do you think will win this year’s Oscar for costume design?

 

Darkest Hour

Darkest Hour should maybe be called Darkest Month. In 1940, Winston Churchill was asked by the King to take over as Prime Minister. It was a shitty time to get the job: Hitler was marching his Nazi army across Europe, and the threat of invasion was uncomfortably close. During this particular month, Churchill’s first on the job, he’s got an impossible task. He must decide whether to negotiate a treaty with Hitler, or whether to stand firm against the Nazis but in so doing risk his country. And he had to do this without his party’s support or the public’s understanding or any help from the King.

Winston Churchill is an iconic and influential figure in British history and he’s been portrayed with varying success by some truly venerable actors:  Albert Finney, lead_960Brendan Gleeson, Timothy Spall, Robert Hardy, and most recently by John Lithgow in The Crown. He is not a saintly figure. He was a great orator but had some problematic positions that hindsight can’t afford to be kind about. Portrayals of him often emphasize his omnipresent cigar, and his particular style of speech (his custom dentures helped cover up a lisp). Gary Oldman is the gentleman tasked with bring old Winnie to life in Darkest Hour, and though he’s seen chomping on the necessary cigars, he turns the performance into something truly remarkable.

Oldman is transformed by makeup and prosthetics; his jowls are considerable. His tics and posture help render him unrecognizable. He dissolves into character. As Churchill he delivers some of history’s most famous and familiar speeches and he is electrifying. Kristin Scott Thomas as his tell-it-like-it-is wife, Lily James as his newbie secretary, and Ben Mendelsohn as the King help round out the cast but Darkest Hour feels like a one man show and Oldman is equal to the cast. Truthfully I don’t know many others who could carry 125 minutes of infamy, but Gary Oldman deserves his frontman status in all the Oscar pools. His portrayal is vigorous and complex and maybe even a little bit compassionate.

As for the movie itself, it’s not quite as formidable. The events are told simply, without a lot of cinematic flair, and it sometimes feels sluggish. There’s not a lot of imagination on display, and perhaps that’s an unfair criticism with the burden of historical accuracy weighing heavily, but director Joe Wright is more precise than entertaining. It’s Oldman who kept me in my seat, and I’m sure it’ll be Oldman bounding out of his on Oscar night to collect his well-deserved award.

Ferdinand

Ferdinand is a big, beefy bull who accidentally destroys a village and gets branded a beast. The biggest, most monstrous bulls get chosen by the matador for bullfights, MV5BZWQ5ODZiMWMtYjM1Yy00ZDlhLTkwYzctNTQxNzE5MDRhNmIxXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNjA0MTc4OQ@@._V1_SX1777_CR0,0,1777,738_AL_but Ferdinand has never aspired to such fame. He’s a gentle soul, really, a pacifist. The other bulls are quite judgmental about his lack of fight but Ferdinand stays true to himself.

And that’s all I really have to say about it. This is not Pixar; it’s not intended for adults, or particularly bright children. Ferdinand is forgettable. It doesn’t even try to surprise you. But John Cena as Ferdinand is pretty okay and Kate McKinnon as a “calming goat” is sometimes nearly funny, so I guess there’s that. It just feels lackluster, and lazy.

Oscar Nominations 2018

Since we got 18 hours’ worth of snow and freezing rain between Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, Jay and I both got to stay home and watch Andy Serkis and Tiffany Haddish announce the 2018 Oscar Nominees.

Our instant reaction after the presentation finished?  Quite positive, I’d say.  The Academy seems to have included everyone who ought to be a contender for these awards, save for James Franco but there’s an understandable reason for that (#metoo).  The only real disappointment was that Wonder Woman didn’t get any nominations at all, which seems like a significant omission for a movie that is fifth on Rotten Tomatoes’ best of 2017 list, particularly when the terrible Suicide Squad got nominated for (and won!) an Oscar in 2017.

Even though Wonder Woman didn’t get any nominations, it was both satisfying and encouraging to see Jordan Peele’s Get Out and Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird get the recognition they both deserve.  Hopefully, their success will lead to other quality passion projects like those getting a green light and finding their audiences too.

Here’s the full list of nominations along with links to the ones we’ve reviewed (we got most of them and will be working on the rest between now and March 4th).

Did you spot any glaring omissions by the Academy?  If so, let us know in the comments!

BEST PICTURE:

Call Me By Your Name

Darkest Hour

Dunkirk

Get Out

Lady Bird

Phantom Thread

The Post

The Shape of Water

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

 

DIRECTING:

Christopher Nolan — Dunkirk

Jordan Peele — Get Out

Greta Gerwig — Lady Bird

Paul Thomas Anderson — Phantom Thread

Guillermo del Toro — The Shape of Water

 

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

The Big Sick — Emily V. Gordon, Kumail Nanjiani

Get Out — Jordan Peele

Lady Bird — Greta Gerwig

The Shape of Water — Guillermo del Toro, Vanessa Taylor

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri — Martin McDonagh

 

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

Call Me By Your Name — James Ivory

The Disaster Artist — Scott Neustadter, Michael H. Weber

Logan — Scott Frank, James Mangold, Michael Green

Molly’s Game — Aaron Sorkin

Mudbound — Virgil Williams, Dee Rees

 

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE:

Timothée Chalamet — Call Me By Your Name

Daniel Day Lewis — Phantom Thread

Daniel Kaluuya — Get Out

Gary Oldman — Darkest Hour

Denzel Washington — Roman J. Israel, Esq.

 

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE:

Sally Hawkins — The Shape of Water

Frances McDormand — Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Margot Robbie — I, Tonya

Saoirse Ronan — Lady Bird

Meryl Streep — The Post

 

ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE:

Willem Dafoe — The Florida Project

Woody Harrelson — Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Richard Jenkins — The Shape of Water

Christopher Plummer — All the Money in the World

Sam Rockwell — Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

 

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE:

Mary J. Blige — Mudbound

Allison Janney — I, Tonya

Lesley Manville — Phantom Thread

Laurie Metcalf — Lady Bird

Octavia Spencer — The Shape of Water

 

DOCUMENTARY (FEATURE):

Abacus: Small Enough to Jail — Steve James, Mark Mitten, Julie Goldman

Faces Places — Agnès Varda, JR and Rosalie Varda

Icarus — Bryan Fogel, Dan Cogan

Last Men in Aleppo — Feras Fayyad, Kareem Abeed, Søren Steen Jespersen

Strong Island — Yance Ford, Joslyn Barnes

 

DOCUMENTARY (SHORT SUBJECT):

Edith + Eddie — Laura Checkoway, Thomas Lee Wright

Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405 — Frank Stiefel

Heroin(e) — Elaine McMilion Sheldon, Kerrin Sheldon

Knife Skills — Thomas Lennon

Traffic Stop — Kate Davis, David Heilbroner

 

LIVE ACTION SHORT FILM:

DeKalb Elementary — Reed Van Dyk

The Eleven O’Clock — Derin Seale, Josh Lawson

My Nephew Emmett — Kevin Wilson Jr.

The Silent Child — Chris Overton, Rachel Shenton

Watu Wote / All of Us — Katja Benrath, Tobias Rosen

 

ANIMATED FEATURE FILM:

The Boss Baby — Tom McGrath, Ramsey Naito

The Breadwinner — Nora Twomey, Anthony Leo

Coco — Lee Unkrich, Darla K. Anderson

Ferdinand — Carlos Saldanha

Loving Vincent — Dorota Kobiela, Hugh Welchman, Ivan Mactaggart

 

ANIMATED SHORT FILM:

Dear Basketball — Glen Keane, Kobe Bryant

Garden Party — Victor Claire, Gabriel Grapperon

Lou — Dave Mullins, Dana Murray

Negative Space — Max Porter, Ru Kuwahata

Revolting Rhymes — Jakob Schuh, Jan Lachauer

 

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM:

A Fantastic Woman — Sebastián Lelio, Chile

The Insult — Ziad Doueiri, Lebanon

Loveless — Andrey Zvyagintsev, Russia

On Body and Soul — Ildikó Enyedi, Hungary

The Square — Ruben Östlund, Sweden

 

CINEMATOGRAPHY:

Blade Runner 2049 — Roger A. Deakins

Darkest Hour — Bruno Delbonnel

Dunkirk — Hoyte van Hoytema

Mudbound — Rachel Morrison

The Shape of Water — Dan Laustsen

 

PRODUCTION DESIGN:

Beauty and the Beast — Sarah Greenwood, Katie Spencer

Blade Runner 2049 — Dennis Gassner, Alessandra Querzola

Darkest Hour – Sarah Greenwood, Katie Spencer

Dunkirk — Nathan Crowley, Gary Fettis

The Shape of Water — Paul Denham Austerberry, Shane Vieau, Jeff Melvin

 

VISUAL EFFECTS:

Blade Runner 2049

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Kong: Skull Island

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

War for the Planet of the Apes

 

FILM EDITING:

Baby Driver — Paul Machliss, Jonathan Amos

Dunkirk — Lee Smith

I, Tonya — Tatiana S. Riegel

The Shape of Water — Sidney Wolinsky

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri — Jon Gregory

 

COSTUME DESIGN:

Beauty and the Beast — Jacqueline Durran

Darkest Hour — Jacqueline Durran

Phantom Thread — Mark Bridges

The Shape of Water — Luis Sequeira

Victoria & Abdul — Consolata Boyle

 

MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING:

Darkest Hour — Kazuhiro Tsuji, David Malinowski, Lucy Sibbick

Victoria & Abdul — Daniel Phillips, Lou Sheppard

Wonder — Arden Tuiten

 

ORIGINAL SCORE:

Dunkirk — Hans Zimmer

Phantom Thread — Jonny Greenwood

The Shape of Water — Alexandre Desplat

Star Wars: The Last Jedi — John Williams

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri — Carter Burwell

 

ORIGINAL SONG:

“Mighty River” — Mudbound, Mary J. Blige, Raphael Saadiq, Taura Stinson

“Mystery of Love” — Call Me By Your Name, Sufjan Stevens

“Remember Me” — Coco, Kristen Anderson-Lopez, Robert Lopez

“Stand Up for Something” — Marshall, Diane Warren, Lonnie R. Lynn

“This is Me” — The Greatest Showman, Benj Pasek, Justin Paul

 

SOUND EDITING:

Baby Driver — Julian Slater

Blade Runner 2049 — Mark Mangini, Theo Green

Dunkirk — Richard King, Alex Gibson

The Shape of Water — Nathan Robitaille, Nelson Ferreira

Star Wars: The Last Jedi — Matthew Wood, Ren Klyce

 

SOUND MIXING:

Baby Driver — Julian Slater, Tim Cavagin, Mary H. Ellis

Blade Runner 2049— Ron Bartlett, Doug Hemphill, Mac Ruth

Dunkirk — Mark Weingarten, Gregg Landaker, Gary A. Rizzo

The Shape of Water — Christian Cooke, Bran Zoern, Glen Gauthier

Star Wars: The Last Jedi — David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce, Stuart Wilson