My one of my favourite shows this year is Aziz Ansari and Alan Yang's
Master of None - a funny and observant meditation on modern cosmopolitan life that allows for diverse viewpoints. The show is also a pretty good exemplar of the the production house behind it - Netflix
- a company that champions auteurs and provides a platform for progressive projects that tackle the thorny topics of race, gender and sexuality deemed "uncommercial" for mainstream cinema distribution and broadcasting
. By coincidence I sat down to the season two finale in the week the Weinstein scandal broke.
Buona Notte features a sexual harassment subplot which completely nails the conflicted male panic surrounding the issue in an industry where even those who are not abusers are morally compromised to some degree. The Weinstein scandal has put sexual harassment under the spotlight and the (male) justifications of
harmless horseplay that got the powerful off the hook only a couple of years ago won't wash now. There has been an undeniable shift in the culture (except
in Italy where victim blaming is still the norm) with diverse voices now challenging the privileged narratives that have dominated in politics, media and the arts.
It was not that long ago that Miramax, under the helm of the Weinstein Brothers, was the company shaking up the mainstream and bringing multiplex success and Oscars to edgy independent titles such as
Sex, Lies & Videotape (1989), Farewell My Concubine (1993), The Piano (1993), Pulp Fiction (1994) and
Transporting (1996) to name just a few era defining examples. As distributors and producers, the Weinsteins certainly had great taste but they were not innovators. They had no ambitions of disrupting the Hollywood model and merely elbowed and intimidated their way to the top table. From
Chocolat (2000) to
Chicago (2002) the
Weinstein brand was also responsible for filling the Awards season with overhyped mediocre titles and, as we now know, propagating an unconscionable amount of casting couch misogyny behind the scenes. By the time the Weinsteins had founded their eponymous mini major (TWC) in 2005 they were indistinguishable from the competition and for every
Fruitvale Station (2013) they produced there were a slew of middlebrow crowd pleasers.
It could well be that the hole left by TWC in 2018's Oscar race is filled by Netflix, but only if the Awards Bodies, who are notoriously sniffy about the TV/Cinema divide, deign to let the scrappy streamer compete. The lack of nominations for
Beasts of No Nation in 2015 was due to less to racial bias than a platform one. This is despite the fact that Netflix is often the only place you can see the most feted Sundance indies such as this year's Sundance Grand Jury Prize winner
I Don't Feel At Home in This World Anymore. Macon Blair's tonally bipolar black comedy is well worth a watch for the compelling naturalism of Melanie Lynskey's lead performance alone, but I fear that despite her Gotham nomination, Lynsey is a long shot for the red carpet much like Sarah Paulsen 's luminous work in Netflix's
Blue Jay last year. Netflix documentaries have feared better with Ava DuVernay's blistering
13th garnering an Oscar nomination on the most recent short list (it lost to
OJ Made In America a TV series recut for theatrical release). Netflix has a strong slate of Oscar worthy documentaries this year too including
The Death & Life of Marsha P Johnson - a powerful film which confronts the uncomfortable truth that trans lives don't matter even to the rest of the LGBTQ community. But while "TV" productions from
Stranger Things to
Mindhunter are universally praised for their "cinematic" quality, Netflix's simultaneous release strategy for their feature films remains an industry bugbear.

One title which could cross over in this watershed year however, is Noah Baumbach's
The Meyerowitz Stories (New & Selected) which made it's cinematic debut in some territories back in October but is available to the discerning subscriber right now. This is precisely the type of autumn release adult dramedy which dominated end of year best of and awards short lists in years past - usually with Woody Allen's name attached. Baumbach also shares Allen's love of black and white title cards and New York settings, but other than that continues to pull further away from the limiting Allen comparisons with each new film.
The Meyerowitz Stories concerns with dysfunctional families and thwarted artistic ambitions may be familiar from the writer/director's criminally under seen prior features (
The Squid & the Whale (2005), Frances Ha (2012) and to a lesser extent 2015's
Mistress America) but it doesn't matter as the script is so funny and erudite. Baumbach also draws wonderful performances from Dustin Hoffman, Emma Thompson and Elizabeth Marvel and reminds us what truly talented actors Ben Stiller and Adam Sandler really are. Hoffman hilariously plays an insufferable sculptor who has spent more time nurturing professional grudges than his own three children (Stiller, Sandler and Marvel, who quietly steals every scene she is in). It is a film about forgiving your parents and displays an emotional intelligence that is rarely found in cinematic comedy nowadays.

The Netflix production with the best chance of garnering Oscar nominations next January was, however, released through the platform last Friday as well as in select cinemas in New York, Los Angeles and London to keep Academy purists happy. Dee Rees's
Mudbound has been quietly gathering great notices since its Sundance premiere back in January and recent screenings at the American Film Institute and The Rome Film Festival have further added to the positive critical buzz. As a handsomely mounted historical drama that deals with race,
Mudbound has Oscar nominee written all over it but it is what director and co-adaptor (with Virgil Williams) Rees brings to the project, from outside the mainstream, which is what makes it truly exciting. Based on Hillary Jordan's novel, the film examines how black and white American lives were transformed by their experience in World War Two and Rees provides a truly Steinbeckian sense of injustice to the 1940s Mississippi setting. However, the story focuses not just on the returning soldiers but their respective families and consequently the appalling gender and racial inequality of that time and place. The climax of the film is a horrifying hate crime which has repercussions for everyone and violence against black people is not merely a plot device to enable a "good" white character to be heroic - it is depicted as an ingrained, virulent societal poison. What's more, the director of
Pariah has a palpable empathy for outsiders bringing a visceral quality to the transgressive friendship at the centre of the story. Cinematographer Rachel Morrison (
Fruitvale Station) creates some exceptionally beautiful images without taking away from the grimness of the rural setting and avoiding the sentimental sheen of "hovel beautiful" that Spielberg gave to
The Color Purple (1985) - as once dubbed by the caustic Richard Corliss.

Rees is above all an exceptional director of actors who has cast the film with distinctive faces that fit the period. Carey Mulligan, a fine actress who is often miscast, has never been better and is much more believable here than in her agrarian turn in
Far From The Madding Crowd (2015). Jason Mitchell, Garrett Hedlund, Australian actor Jason Clarke and Rob Morgan (last seen as one of Hawkins' Finest in
Stranger Things) are all excellent and in her screen debut, Mary J. Blige brings a quiet dignity to the role of Florence that eschews the cliches of the stoic matriarch. Jonathan Banks'
(Better Call Saul) performance as a garden variety bigot and bully capable of monstrous acts offers a stern riposte to the KKK apologists who would want you to believe "that's just how white people were back then".
There are some missteps. Rees recreates the novel's multi-character narration with frequent voiceover. In some cases, such as Laura's (Mulligan) observations on the constant presence of death in farm life or Hap's (Morgan) rumination on the double meaning of
deed, these add texture to the characters' inner and outer lives but more often they only labour what has already been established by Rees and Morrison's eloquent imagery. Similarly, the WWII battle scenes are the least convincing in the film (it is no
Dunkirk) and the causes of Jamie (Hedlund) and Ronsel's (Mitchell) PTSD could have been more effectively revealed in their taut dialogue scenes together further adding to the feeling of isolation and claustrophobia at being back in Mississippi. Overall though
Mudbound is a tremendously moving experience whether seen on the big or small screen and if Oscar recognition comes next year, it will be well deserved.
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