Edward Norton’s first scene in Birdman is about his character, Mike Shiner, rehearsing a Raymond Carver play with Michael Keaton‘s Riggan Thomson. And within 90 seconds he “runs through a Crayola box of tones and emotions, jumping between Shiner and Shiner’s character in the play like he’s changing shirts,” says Grantland‘s Kevin Lincoln. “Throughout the rest of Birdman, flexibility defines Norton’s performance. He fistfights in a floral Speedo. He wields an erection like it’s his first. He throws himself into being a maniac. Norton empties the playbook, turning a flimsy role into Dada madness.

Last night In Contention‘s Kris Tapley posted an assessment of the Best Actor situation, and in so doing declared there’s only one slot open once you factor in Birdman‘s Michael Keaton, Foxcatcher‘s Steve Carell, The Imitation Game‘s Benedict Cumberbatch and — last but far from least — Eddie Redmayne‘s turn as the afflicted Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything.

(l.) The distinctly nominatable Tom Hardy, star of the Locke and The Drop; (r.) In Contention columnist Kris Tapley.

 The piece contains one questionable call and one glaring omission.

Tapley’s not wrong about Keaton, Cumberbatch and Redmayne but holdupski on Carell for one minute. Carell has carved himself a rep as Mr. Career Balls. The fact that he really burrows into the psyche of the late, very creepy multi-millionaire John Dupont is proof of that. But the reason Carell is considered a lock is because (a) he’s a rich and famous comic actor (he still makes awful, Norbit-like mainstream comedies like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day), and because he (b) played Dupont with a kind of spazzy-wonky accent and (c) wore a prosthetic hook nose.

It’s not that Carell doesn’t deserve to be in the conversation. I fully respect what he did in Foxcatcher. I just don’t think he’s a stone-cold lock. Remember what Denzel Washington said before he announced that Nicole Kidman had won her Best Actress Oscar for The Hours? “By a nose…” Prosthetic noses are very big deals with the Academy. Be honest — would Carell be a presumed Best Actor lock if he hadn’t worn a fake schnozz?

Who could slide into Tapley’s rhetorical fifth slot? I’ll tell you who absolutely fucking should slide into it, and that’s Tom Hardy for delivering two ace-level, world-class performances this year — firstly his solo turn in Locke, easily one of the year’s best films and yet all but ignored by the know-it-alls because there’s no campaign afoot and they don’t see anyone buttering their bread, and secondly as the quiet, low-key barkeep in The Drop — a man of few words but with a cagey nature and an iron will. The year’s biggest take-away line — “Nobody ever sees you coming, do they, Bob?” — alludes to Hardy’s character in this film.

…and in fact the entire GenY twee film culture (along with the various other permutations) and smiles contentedly, knowing that he had a lot to do with it in a sense, at least from an inspirational standpoint. You have to give the man credit. He was twee-ing his ass off back in the late ’50s, for God’s sake.

I always correct my mistakes (typos, factuals) as quickly as possible, but I do make them nearly every damn day. It is therefore gratifying to see the Guardian blow a caption in its report about Andrey Zvyagintsev‘s Leviathan (Sony Pictures Classics, 12.31) having won the Best Film award at the London Film festival. The gentleman in the photo is Leviathan producer Alexander Rodnyansky and not, as the caption claims, Zvyagintsev.

When long hair began to emerge among teens and 20somethings in the mid ’60s, the World War II generation (born in the ’20s) was appalled. To most of them Beatle hair was revolting. “Are you a boy or a girl?” was their mantra. Here’s an expression of that in Harper (’66), released in February 1966 and shot the year before. The person who set up this shot was saying “do you fucking believe this? What has happened to male-female distinctions among younger people?”” That person was director Jack Smight, born in ’25 and clearly a bit of an asshole. Another example can be found in Goldfinger (’64). Sean Connery‘s 007 says to Shirley Eaton‘s Jill Masterson that “there are some things that just aren’t done, such as drinking Dom Perignon ’53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.” The Goldfinger screenwriters were Richard Maibaum and Paul Dehn.

Sony Pictures Classics’ trailer for Andrei Zvyagintsev‘s Leviathan popped a couple of days ago. I’ve seen the film three times now, but I’ve yet to see it in this country on a whopper-sized screen with knock-your-socks-off sound, which I how I caught it last May at the Salle Debussy during the Cannes Film Festival. “Simultaneously a modern essay on suffering, an open-ended thriller, and a black social comedy, it is most importantly of all a thinly-veiled political parable drenched in bitter irony that takes aim against the corrupt, corrosive regime of Vladimir Putin.” — Hollywood Reporter critic Leslie Felperin.

When I think of peace or of truly peaceful moments in my life…maybe that’s too big a subject for a Sunday afternoon. But right now, three episodes come to mind. One, the way I felt when I was on a small craft chugging along a river in the village of Hoi An, Vietnam, during my first trip there, in November 2012. Two, the way I felt early last June in Venice, when I took the below video around dusk or perhaps a little after. And three, the way I always feel when I listen to Peter Finch‘s Howard Beale describe satori…”a cleansing moment of clarity…plugged into some great, unseen, living force, or what I think the Hindus call prana…I’ve never felt more orderly in my life.” I can probably recall several dozen others but they all share the same characteristic, which is that they happened more or less of their own accord. Great moments happen only when they happen. You can’t order or orchestrate them. You just need to (a) keep yourself open and attuned and (b) develop some real discipline with your devices.

This was taken sometime during the New York Film Festival celebrations of Birdman (they’re all in a freight elevator or something). It’s just one of those infectious photos…puts you right in the mood.

It’s not that I’m unfamiliar with Alain Resnais‘ Hiroshima Mon Amour although I’ve only seen it once. It’s not that I don’t find it visually immaculate — the two dps are longtime Resnais collaborator Sacha Vierny plus Michio Takahashi. I find it almost heartbreaking on some level to flash between the 31 year-old Emmanuel Riva in this 1959 film and the Riva who costarred in Amour. Eiji Okada, Riva’s Japanese lover in the Resnais film, died almost 20 years ago at age 75. Nothing is unappealing about catching it this evening at West L.A.’s Royal except for the stone cold fact that it won’t look as good on the screen as it will when the Bluray comes out. The black-and-white values will be so much fuller and finer on the Bluray…it’s not even open for discussion.

I don’t pay much attention to weekly Variety covers or any print publication, for that matter, except for Vanity Fair (which has been feeling less substantial and therefore less enjoyable over the last couple of years) and Esquire and GQ when I’m about to leave on a flight. But the satirical role-playing Bill Murray cover obviously alludes to those George Lois Esquire covers of the ’60s and early ’70s. Is this a new vein or did this cover just happen as a one-off?

Damien Chazelle‘s Whiplash (Sony Classics, 10.10) was the first 2014 movie I went apeshit for. I reviewed it out of Sundance almost exactly nine months ago…and then the months flew by and I began to think of it as a very strong Spirit Awards contender. Then it got another jolt out of Toronto/New York, and then it finally opened nine days ago. And then it began to connect in certain flotational ways. And then the clincher: Jett and his girlfriend saw it last night, and he reports that while she “liked” or “respected” but didn’t quite love Gone Girl and Birdman, she’s over the moon about Whiplash. That settles it. Whiplash, which has earned about $416K in 21 theatres so far, is a Best Picture contender because it fills not one but two Oscar Bait Bingo squares — it’s the Best Picture contender that GenY regards as its own (at least one BP nominee has to “belong” to the under-30s or they won’t feel invested in the Oscar telecast) and it’s the leading indie-level Best Picture nominee, which is a healthy thing for the Academy as nominating only big-name, medium-to-hefty-budget, mainstream-vibey films sends the wrong message. On top of which Whiplash is currently sitting in tenth place on the latest Gurus of Gold ranking — the admirers include Thelma Adams, Tim Gray, David Poland, Nathaniel R and Anne Thompson. I am including it in my Gold Derby Best Picture ranking as we speak. To repeat, Whiplash is no longer a Spirit Awards contender (although it can and will compete in that arena) — it’s a bona fide Best Picture contender.

Four hours ago on Reddit a man called “Toss My Salad Gently”, who sounds like a fair-minded guy with an actual sense of reason and judgment (as opposed to being some fluttery falsetto fanboy raving about all things Nolan), began to offer a semi-serious assessment of Interstellar following yesterday’s Fort Hood screening. Just a series of random, uncoordinated but intelligent-sounding comments, but you can sense a guy who knows a couple of things and has an idea of what’s good and what’s not. The bottom line is that while TMSG shared some flattering observations about Interstellar, he wasn’t over the moon about it. Definitely admiring and respectful but no cartwheels.

Three TSMG up-thoughts: (a) “It’s a really, really ambitious and enjoyable film,” (b) “It definitely had its moments! I found myself trying to hold back the tears a couple times” and (c) “2001: A Space Odyssey comparisons are pretty valid [and yet] the difference is Nolan didn’t take the plunge and leave a lot of things up for interpretation like Kubrick did…there is a bit of thinking to do after watching, but I believe it is accessible to anyone who pays attention.”

But he also offered a ranking of how Interstellar stands up to previous Nolan films, and here it is: (1) tie between Memento (8.5/10) and The Dark Knight (8.5/10), (2) Inception (8/10), (3) tie between Interstellar (7.5/10) and Batman Begins (7.5/10) and (4) The Dark Knight Rises (7/10).

And then he said this: “I just want to say that I feel bad because I’m really not any kind of film aficionado. Just someone who likes movies a lot. It was a really, really ambitious and enjoyable film. My rating is based off story, delivery of story, visuals, the music score and a couple other things. Some of you will like it more than I did but this is how I would rate it.