I'll be recapping my favorite films from 2010 over the next few weeks, with special attention paid to highlighting the great technical achievements of last year and not simply the films and performances. First up:
Best Art Direction/Production Design
Best Art Direction/Production Design
What sets the production design of "True Grit" apart from the competition is its infusion of modern cinematic texture (that bear-head wearing horseback wanderer immediately springs to mind) into a fundamental respect for the western genre and its standard visual components.
There are dusty outdoor hitching posts and the gallows prominently depicted against the familiar backdrop of that perfectly composed Old West skyline; the whiskey-stained saloon walls and grimy general store back-room where Rooster rents a bed to sleep off his hangovers until midday, and a good half dozen immaculately decorated interiors from the courthouse where Rooster stands trial for trigger-happy tendencies to the old lady's home where Maddie humorously boards for a couple of sleepless nights (we can practically smell the moth balls sitting in the theater).
Consider also the seamlessly integrated interior set-pieces serving the purpose of exterior-set action sequences, as when Rooster & Maddie make a violent pit-stop at a remote rustic cabin to question its inhabitants, or when Maddie falls into the cave during the movie's climax and threatens to derail her entire mission.
Six-time Oscar nominee Haigh also did spectacular production design for "A.I.: Artificial Intelligence" and helped bring Tim Burton's visions of "Big Fish" and "Mars Attacks!" to life. Haigh also replicated several decades worth of modern historical interiors for "Forrest Gump" and even mounted the infamously expensive dystopian sets for flop "Waterworld."
"Inception" (Guy Hendrix & Larry Dias) - While the crazy-great visual effects of "Inception" seem to garner the lion's share of attention from wowed moviegoers, the magnificently cinematic interiors of "Inception" are really something to behold.
No less incredible than the city folding back in on itself or those crumbling seaside skyscrapers, the physical sets that stage much of the movie's rather clunky exposition between the movie's louder action sequences amount to a major architectural achievement in and of themselves.
The golden Japanese-infused intensity of the opening scene's meta-apocalyptic conference room immediately recalls the ominous luxury of Kubrick's interiors (think the gala sequences in "Eyes Wide Shut" and "The Shining"), and it's all uphill from there.
Particularly amazing is the spinning hallway constructed for the movie's centerpiece, in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt takes on a small army of bad guys at zero gravity.
These guys know what they're doing, having previously teamed on the epic Spanish production "Agora" and the most recent "Indiana Jones" spectacle. Individually, Hendrix worked wonders on the wildly lavish "Elizabeth: The Golden Age," which is nothing if not a complete visual feast, while Dias decorated the memorably accomplished sets of Shyamalan's "The Village," and the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie.
No less incredible than the city folding back in on itself or those crumbling seaside skyscrapers, the physical sets that stage much of the movie's rather clunky exposition between the movie's louder action sequences amount to a major architectural achievement in and of themselves.
The golden Japanese-infused intensity of the opening scene's meta-apocalyptic conference room immediately recalls the ominous luxury of Kubrick's interiors (think the gala sequences in "Eyes Wide Shut" and "The Shining"), and it's all uphill from there.
Particularly amazing is the spinning hallway constructed for the movie's centerpiece, in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt takes on a small army of bad guys at zero gravity.
"I Am Love" (Francesca Balestra Di Mottola) - I have already gushed and gushed and gushed some more about my complete adoration for "I Am Love," last summer's magnificent Italian-language melodrama starring Tilda Swinton as the matriarch of a wealthy capitalist family whose affair with her son's working-class chef friend brings about a sexual awakening with far-reaching consequences for the entire family.
So, I'll keep this (relatively) short: the opulent production design of "I Am Love" is credited to Ms. Di Mottola, who learned from the very best (Dante Ferretti - more about him below) while working under his tutelage on "Sweeney Todd" and "Cold Mountain" before branching out on her own to deliver this stunning solo flight.
"I Am Love" gazes upon the family's baroque Milanese estate (which features some of the most incredible home interiors you'll ever gaze upon) before moving its point of view to another, more sensory realm, exhibiting an array of sumptuous culinary offerings off the young hirsute chef's intoxicating restaurant menu as our central character becomes intoxicated by these new tastes and sensations she's experiencing.Before long, we're off to the blooming exteriors of the mountains outside San Remo, where the young chef intends to open a remotely located destination restaurant. This is also the place where our lovely Tilda sheds her incredible wardrobe (designed by Jil Sander & Fendi, no less) and indulges in some much-needed countryside cunnilingus.
All of this is indescribably beautiful, as is the film's final shot, which must be seen to be believed. Stick around after the first moments of the end credits and experience it for yourself. That single set alone is memorable and resonant enough to land "I Am Love" on this list.
"Never Let Me Go" (Denis Schnegg & Michelle Day) - The duo behind a fat handful of Danny Boyle's best-looking films (including "Slumdog Millionaire," "28 Days Later" and, perhaps most impressive, the spaceship interiors of "Sunshine") has really taken it to the next level under Mark Romanek's obsessively detailed direction.
The picture's exteriors are notably exotic yet still fundamentally austere. The great unknown world beyond Hailsham, the film's central boarding school, is teeming with all possible incarnations of foreign beauty yet still definitively, concretely, constructed. A seaside pier seems to extend terrestrial boundaries if only for a few hundred feet, and when we see the picture's hopelessly naive main characters running excitedly toward the modest pagoda-like structures that appear perched at the very edge of the world.
Executed with equally thoughtful precision, the interiors of "Never Let Me Go" are starkly contrasted to the sense of freedom and possibility evoked by the outside world, and the outdoors in general.
Inside Hailsham, everything from the walls to the curtains to the children's uniforms are finely textured to the standards of the time and place, the whole place tailored effortlessly to put forth the appearance of proper civilization above all.
Outside, the children are free to play and roughhouse with each other, but it is here, outside the boundaries of control, where the children lose their tempers and taunt each other and get their first tastes of longing and heartbreak.
Later, when the children have graduated, they move from Hailsham to a small colony of cottages where they're meant to live out their few remaining years before "completing," the story's distinctly sci-fi euphemism for being killed and harvested for organs and parts so that real humans may live forever. These cottages are a major step down in quality of living from the lush digs at Hailsham, and that's exactly the point. Romanek and his consummate pros make this point subtly and skillfully, giving the interiors a cozy warmth that also shows a sense of resigned purpose.
From here on, the film's characters are on the outside, looking in.
The film's visual sensibilities are remarkably strong, as Romanek has obviously been influenced by Kubrick and Malick, among others. The production is richly detailed with thematically resonant flourishes across the board, from the tiny holes in earthen fabrics that grow more apparent as the narrative demands to the stunning, formally composed cinematography that directly echoes the intricate composition of the Hailsham's replicant program and the clones themselves.
All of this requires multiple viewings to fully appreciate, which in my view really is the mark of excellence. "Never Let Me Go" is one of the most underrated and under-seen great films of 2010 (along with "Rabbit Hole") and I highly encourage you to seek it out. It's a real work of art.
The picture's exteriors are notably exotic yet still fundamentally austere. The great unknown world beyond Hailsham, the film's central boarding school, is teeming with all possible incarnations of foreign beauty yet still definitively, concretely, constructed. A seaside pier seems to extend terrestrial boundaries if only for a few hundred feet, and when we see the picture's hopelessly naive main characters running excitedly toward the modest pagoda-like structures that appear perched at the very edge of the world.
Executed with equally thoughtful precision, the interiors of "Never Let Me Go" are starkly contrasted to the sense of freedom and possibility evoked by the outside world, and the outdoors in general.
Inside Hailsham, everything from the walls to the curtains to the children's uniforms are finely textured to the standards of the time and place, the whole place tailored effortlessly to put forth the appearance of proper civilization above all.Outside, the children are free to play and roughhouse with each other, but it is here, outside the boundaries of control, where the children lose their tempers and taunt each other and get their first tastes of longing and heartbreak.
Later, when the children have graduated, they move from Hailsham to a small colony of cottages where they're meant to live out their few remaining years before "completing," the story's distinctly sci-fi euphemism for being killed and harvested for organs and parts so that real humans may live forever. These cottages are a major step down in quality of living from the lush digs at Hailsham, and that's exactly the point. Romanek and his consummate pros make this point subtly and skillfully, giving the interiors a cozy warmth that also shows a sense of resigned purpose.
From here on, the film's characters are on the outside, looking in.
The film's visual sensibilities are remarkably strong, as Romanek has obviously been influenced by Kubrick and Malick, among others. The production is richly detailed with thematically resonant flourishes across the board, from the tiny holes in earthen fabrics that grow more apparent as the narrative demands to the stunning, formally composed cinematography that directly echoes the intricate composition of the Hailsham's replicant program and the clones themselves.
"Shutter Island" (Dante Ferretti) - Veteran art director Ferretti is probably the most dependable go-to guy when it comes to achieving a palpable cinematic grandeur. He's pushing 70 and still going strong, reuniting with Scorcese for the epic horror tale "Shutter Island" after proving himself indispensable in mounting the director's most prominent period productions, "Gangs of New York" & "The Age of Innocence." Both films feature the kind of sweeping, transportive sense of place that set great period films apart from lesser efforts and take the audience back in time to a place they never knew they'd always wanted to visit. 
From the brawling street gangs of colonial-era New York City to the definitively more proper world of Edith Wharton's 19th-century high society dalliances, Ferretti's production design is unilaterally exceptional.
It's no surprise that Scorcese called upon his friend yet again to mount yet another formally composed period production, this time set on the rocky cliffs of "Shutter Island" circa the 1950s.
From the very first frame to the last, from the stormy coastline to the forested crypts, the opulent offices of the suspicious doctors running Shutter Island and the labyrinthine subterranean cell blocks that make up this "prison for the criminally insane," Ferretti excels beyond expectation and sets the stage for Scorcese and his cast to deliver a true cinematic experience.
Also outstanding are the film's flashbacks, which depict a few critically relevant traumas from DiCaprio's paranoid detective's own past, seamlessly shifting from a haunting Holocaust snowfall to a burning-down house where his wife may have died to the pastoral lakeside retreat that ultimately holds the key to "Shutter Island's" expansive mystery. This image, my personal favorite among many greats in "Shutter Island," exemplifies the ideal marriage of production design, art direction and cinematography.
Ferretti also served as art director Tim Burton's soot-covered foggy London bloodbath "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" (2007), a true achievement in transplanting a stage classic onto the big screen, and Brian DePalma's technically masterful but otherwise just-okay Hollywood homicide biopic "The Black Dahlia" (2006), which features some of the best film noir interiors this side of "Blade Runner." Ferretti also dressed the sets of Anthony Minghella's pitch-perfect screen adaptation of "Cold Mountain," my favorite film of 2003, the trademark over-the-top stylings of Julie Taymor's early best, "Titus," and the dark bayous & lavish estates of Neil Jordan's "Interview with the Vampire."
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