The Oscars 2013 - Part 4: The Governors Ball

I have to confess I didn’t know about the existence of a thing called Governors Ball until the previous day, when I received the invitation to attend it. On the card there was written: Hollywood & Highland, Ray Dolby Ballroom, Immediately Following the Ceremony.

Once the Oscars were over, in fact, we have been invited to reach the top floor of the theater building: before entering the hall, there was the usual wall of journalists and photographers waiting for the stars, and those immense reflectors that, believe me, are the most annoying things on planet earth. The life of a star is a tough one…. how can you resist making an interview under those liquefying lights? The Governors Ball was taking place in an enormous, quite dark space, with an orchestra on the far left side, round tables elegantly set up everywhere and few big tables on the corners covered with food. I guess a place like El Morocco in the 20s should look like this.

I immediately understood that all the stars, sooner or later, would be passing by. And I was right. 
As a matter of fact, there were too many stars arriving. Helped by the first glass of champagne (at empty stomach), I started walking around: Jean Dujardin was the first in my line of vision. He was by himself, and I knew he doesn’t speak English super well, so I thought I could talk to him in French. Yes, good idea! but when I started walking towards him, Alexander Payne crossed my path. Oh, I love your cinema! I wanted to tell him. Yes, but just in front of him there was George Clooney with an absolutely irresistible beard, smiling.

What am I supposed to do now??! It was impossible to choose, believe me, so I just walked around enjoying the funny scenes I had the opportunity to look at, like Adele, Barbra Streisand and Shirley Bassey drinking and laughing all together, or Jason Gordon Levitt posing for pictures with Amy Adams and the-most-gorgeous-woman-in-the-universe, Ms. Charlize Theron (and her fabulous, new short haircut!).

 After a while, it was pretty clear that tables were naturally arranging around every Oscar movie: there was the Argo area, the Life of Pi area, and the Lincoln area, where I was. I was introduced to Steven Spielberg. My boss explained to him I was a cinema freak. Spielberg told me: "I love that you love cinema!" The second glass of champagne didn’t help: I felt like we were old friends and that it was actually normal talking to him.

Anyway, where is Daniel??! I wanted to scream. His family was there, all the actors from Lincoln were there, the director was there. And there he was, all of a sudden, the happiest man I have ever seen in all my life:

I looked at him, completely and utterly mesmerized by his smiling, his joyful expression, his way of walking and talking. Everybody wanted to say something, to shake hands, to compliment him. He was looking around, clearly enjoying every minute of it, distributing with equal magnanimity smiles and thank you. I could have stayed there forever. When I was about to approach him, Daniel Day Lewis looked around and said: "Could somebody bring me to my wife? I didn’t see Rebecca since I had the Oscar!" What a lovely and romantic thing to say… but the problem was that somebody actually brought him to Rebecca and soon afterwards they seated down at a table and started to eat. I was panicking. I missed my chance to talk to him. Definitely. So stupid of me! I was there with a desperate expression on my face when Heather, from the Academy, saw me and asked me what was going on. I explained. She said: "Let’s go, there is just one life, and we have to take advantage of it." And off she went towards Daniel. We arrived from behind him. She put a hand on his shoulder, and Daniel looked up at her: "I’m sorry to bother you Daniel, but there is an Italian woman who would like to tell you something." Day Lewis looked at me, smiling, and making a gesture with his hand, meaning: come, no worries. When I arrived, he gave me his right hand, I took it and I didn’t let it go until the end of my love declaration. Daniel listened carefully to my speech, having - I guess - a lot of fun. When I told him I have been following his career since I was 15 years old, he raised his eyebrow, and he commented: wow! He kept telling me thank you, smiling, and squeezing my hand every time I said something nice (basically every two seconds).

I don’t remember anything about the end of that scene. I was completely blown away by the events, and so I started walking around the place without a destination. 

And it was then that I saw Mads Mikkelsen walking in my direction. Alone.

Before I could even think what I was doing, I walked towards him.

He didn’t have a choice: he had to stop, because I went right in front of him saying: Hello!
Mikkelsen looked at me (down at me, because he is pretty tall): Hello!
- I’m a huge fan of yours!
- Oh, thank you!
- Actually, I have a cinema blog, and every year I give my personal Oscars, and this year you have won the award for Best Actor!
- Oh, really? For which movie?
(Is he really asking me this? I thought in a brief moment of lucidity)
- For Jagten! (are you impressed? – I wanted to add – that I quote the movie's original Danish title?)
- Oh, that’s a very good movie. Did you like it?
- Sure, a lot, this is also why I decided to give you this price.
Mikkelsend looked at me: And the price consists of...?
Dear readers, believe me or not, when he asked me that, I moved closer, I put my arms around him, and I kissed him on his right cheek.
Mikkelsen was puzzled: Oh, well… nice price! Thank you!
- You’re very welcomed!
- I have to go now, because I have friends waiting for me, but it was nice meeting you.
- The same for me! And while I was looking at him disappearing into the crowd, I thought: And you’re lucky I didn’t give you the Man of my Life Award…. Otherwise you wouldn’t make it out just with one kiss, darling!
To celebrate, I took a picture of myself as a real star:

The Governors Ball was over. On our way out we saw Christoph Waltz drinking coffee with the Oscar under his right arm and Tim Burton with a broken arm, and then we started waiting for our limousine to pick us up.

There was one more thing to do… the night was still young!

The Artist

Siete di quelli che non hanno più fiducia nel cinema? 
Di quelli che pensano che ormai a Hollywood si facciano solo film in 3D pieni di effetti speciali, morti ammazzati, dialoghi privi di spessore e attori capaci soprattutto di mostrare bicipiti e sorriso smagliante? 
Se appartenete a questa categoria, allora ecco qua il film che fa per voi. Il film nato per smentire le vostre certezze, il film creato per dimostrarvi che, nell'anno di grazia 2011, il cinema è ancora capace di osare l'inosabile, di stupire, di farci sognare, ridere, piangere, e credere, anche solo per due minuti due, signoriesignore, che il mondo è un posto meraviglioso. Come? Semplice, con un film muto (!) e in bianco e nero (!): The Artist.
Girato a Hollywood (e sognato da anni) dal regista francese Michel Hazanavicius, questo film ha visto la luce grazie al coraggio e alla lungimiranza di un giovane produttore, Thomas Langmann (che non è nuovo ad operazioni arrischiate, basti pensare che c'era sempre lui dietro le quattro ore di biografia del criminale francese Mesrine). Presentato in competizione all'ultimo Festival di Cannes, il film ha ricevuto il premio (meritatissimo!) per la miglior interpretazione maschile, assegnato a Jean Dujardin. L'attore e il regista sono alla loro terza collaborazione. In Francia, hanno sbancato il botteghino e ricevuto elogi dalla critica per i loro film OSS 117, Le Caire Nid d'Espions e OSS 117, Rio ne répond plus, che sono in pratica una ridicolizzazione dei film di James Bond, con ambientazioni rigorosamente '60s. Film deliziosi e leggeri, che suonano ora come un bel preludio al loro ultimo lavoro. Del quale fa anche parte Bérénice Béjo, compagna del regista nella vita reale, e già protagonista con Dujardin del primo OSS.  

The Artist racconta la parabola discendente di George Valentin, star del cinema muto alla fine degli anni '20, incapace di rendersi conto che l'avvento del cinema sonoro gli distruggerà prima la carriera e poi la vita. A differenza di Peppy Miller, una ragazza che passa da semplice comparsa nei film di Valentin a star del cinema parlato nel giro di pochissimo tempo. Tra i due scatta subito una forte attrazione, ma Valentin è sposato e i due non possono coronare il loro sogno d'amore. Soltanto quando l'attore, in miseria, verrà abbandonato da tutti (moglie compresa), Peppy potrà andare in suo soccorso e offrirgli una seconda occasione di vita.

The Artist, lo confesso, mi è piaciuto da morire fin dai titoli di testa, in perfetto stile RKO. Il regista non può capire quanto lo ammiri per il coraggio che ha avuto: l'idea che qualcuno faccia un film muto nel 2011 è semplicemente meravigliosa (mi ricordo un solo altro esempio negli ultimi anni, ed è quello di Juha di Aki Kaurismaki, ma in tutt'altro stile). E la cosa ancora più incredibile è che il pubblico lo segua: il film in Francia, sappiatelo, è già campione d'incassi. La verità è che ci si dimentica dopo un minuto che è iniziato, che questo film è senza dialoghi. Perché si rimane immediatamente catturati dalla storia, dalla bellezza delle scene, della luce, della musica, e dalla bravura degli attori (Jean Dujardin è magnifico: ha la classe, il carisma e il portamento di un moderno Clarke Gable). The Artist è amore per la magia del cinema (e del cinema toutcort) che trasuda da tutti i pori dello schermo, è un omaggio sentimentale (sincero e disarmante) a Hollywood e ad universo lontano che racchiude in sé gli elementi essenziali del nostro immaginario collettivo. E' come se, guardando The Artist, ritrovassimo l'innocenza perduta, e ci rendessimo conto di quanto ci fosse mancata. Per me, il momento più bello, è senza dubbio quello dell'innamoramento tra George e Peppy: i due stanno girando la scena di un ballo, dove si devono incrociare, ballare allacciati per pochi istanti e poi separarsi. Ma la scena deve essere ripetuta continuamente, perché c'è sempre qualcosa che non va: i due ridono, sbagliano i tempi, rimangono abbracciati troppo a lungo. Insomma l'amore racchiuso in quattro, semplicissime scene. Alla fine del film, il pubblico (sala stracolma di uno dei più grandi cinema di Parigi) è scoppiato in uno spontaneo, fragoroso applauso. Come se fossimo a Hollywood nel 1927, e non al Gaumont Opéra nel 2011.
Tutto sembrava possibile, persino mettersi a baciare qualcuno sotto la pioggia all'uscita del film, pretendendo di essere ancora in un mondo perfetto: silenzioso, e in bianco e nero.