No Room for the Top

The Oscar award silliness is well over for this year, and the only thing proved is that nothing succeeds like success. Fifteen million dollars pushed Ben-Hur to the greatest sweep (eleven awards; compared, say, with Gigi’s nine) in Hollywood history. The film, an altogether pleasant conglomeration of Biblical sex, sadism and splendor, offers some scenes that only fifteen million dollars could buy, along with Charlton Heston contorting his eyebrows and jutting his chin. If it never reaches, or even approaches, an artistic plane, it is never boring; but this is hardly an admirable or a valid criterion. Room at the Top, a completely silly movie made from John Braine’s three-quarters silly novel of the same name, has nothing against it save the fact that it is incredibly bad.

But what is disappointing is that some really fine films were under consideration for the awards that went to pictures which are, at best, mediocre. The Diary of Anne Frank was startlingly neglected in all major categories, and the broad comic strokes of Some Like It Hot, a triumph for a great comedienne, Miss Marilyn Monroe, were ignored, the picture being recognized only for a costume. Audrey Hepburn, actress among today’s “actresses,” was overlooked, and Wild Strawberries, an excellent picture, was passed by. Perhaps the only sensible award was that to Black Orpheus as Best Foreign Language Film; this is a thoroughly amazing picture, which carries a tremendous impact.

FG

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Frank Gannon

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The Oscar award silliness is well over for this year, and the only thing proved is that nothing succeeds like success. Fifteen million dollars pushed Ben-Hur to the greatest sweep (eleven awards; compared, say, with Gigi’s nine) in Hollywood history. The film, an altogether pleasant conglomeration of Biblical sex, sadism and splendor, offers some scenes that only fifteen million dollars could buy, along with Charlton Heston contorting his eyebrows and jutting his chin. If it never reaches, or even approaches, an artistic plane, it is never boring; but this is hardly an admirable or a valid criterion. Room at the Top, a completely silly movie made from John Braine’s three-quarters silly novel of the same name, has nothing against it save the fact that it is incredibly bad.

But what is disappointing is that some really fine films were under consideration for the awards that went to pictures which are, at best, mediocre. The Diary of Anne Frank was startlingly neglected in all major categories, and the broad comic strokes of Some Like It Hot, a triumph for a great comedienne, Miss Marilyn Monroe, were ignored, the picture being recognized only for a costume. Audrey Hepburn, actress among today’s “actresses,” was overlooked, and Wild Strawberries, an excellent picture, was passed by. Perhaps the only sensible award was that to Black Orpheus as Best Foreign Language Film; this is a thoroughly amazing picture, which carries a tremendous impact.