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Tony Earnshaw:The awards season is a lottery in an industry where nothing is sure
THIS time last year there was a buzz around Slumdog Millionaire that didn't stop until February when it cleaned up at the Oscars.
Twelve months on there appears to be a discernible lack of buzz about anything much. The early signs of in-yer-face campaigns don't seem to have materialised and it's hard for any would-be pundit to test the industry's pulse and make a pitch toward the winners.
True, there is some small talk around a few films and individuals. Some serious consideration is being given as to whether Pixar's feelgood weepie Up might nudge its way from best animated picture into the best picture category.
And from the indie sector everyone is raving about Precious (full title Precious, based on the novel Push by Sapphire), Lee Daniels' redemptive tale of an abused teenager fighting for survival in a harsh world. It opens here in January.
But where are the obvious front-runners, those intelligent, adult-themed, star-dominated studio juggernauts that actors clamour to be a part of because they have WORTHY stamped all over them in big friendly letters?
Right now it seems the serious players aren't even in the game. They're adopting a cool stance, sitting back from the pack and watching how the cards fall.
A few are out there. The Coen Brothers' A Serious Man will probably crop up in a couple of categories, while Peter Jackson's The Lovely Bones may give him another crack at Oscar following his best picture win in 2004.
There are also whispers around Crazy Heart, starring Jeff Bridges, who has already been named among the nominees for the 2010 Spirit Awards. Who knows, it may be Bridges' year given that he is one of those actors of grace and gravitas who has never previously been so honoured.
Personally I'd like to see Paul Giamatti collect a gong for his work in Sophie Barthes' Cold Souls. He's also to be seen in The Last Station, a study of the final days of Leo Tolstoy (the ubiquitous Christopher Plummer, another veteran long overdue for glory) thus proving his versatility and durability as a character actor-cum-leading man.
Then there's Invictus, directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela. If that isn't a magnet for awards then I'm a native of Amsterdam.
The awards season is always a lottery. As William Goldman once said "Nobody knows anything". That applies as much to the Baftas, Golden Globes and Oscars as it does to an industry that can never predict what will go the distance.
Look at it this way: Paramount execs are still giggling like loons over Paranormal Activity, a terrifying sleeper hit that cost a weensy $11,000 and has taken nigh on $100m at the turnstiles. How could they have known? Filmmakers Oren Peli, Katie Featherstone and Micah Sloat deserve their own unique golden man for sheer gall.
My firm choice for recognition would be Christian McKay, break-out star of Me and Orson Welles. In his film debut he gives a staggering, scintillating performance as the young whizz-kid of the American stage. The risk for McKay, like Welles, is of peaking too soon, and who wants to step into that haunted shadow? Maybe he'd best wait a while.
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