5. Steve Martin for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
OK, this one's a bit of a stretch. Steve Martin isn't an acting nominee, indeed he isn't a nominee at all; he's already a winner, along with Angela Lansbury and Italian costuming great Piero Tosi, of one of this year's honorary Oscars (the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award goes to Angelina Jolie this year, by the way).
Out of Martin's long filmography, it's hard to find much that's glaringly bad. Even his duds are mostly polished. The 1996 Sgt. Bilko, though a disgrace to the classic TV show, was less memorably awful than another "Sgt." Movie, the unholy 1978 Beatles/Bee Gees abomination Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, in which Martin mugs his way through "Maxwell's Silver Hammer."
That film is sometimes referred to as Martin's feature debut, but it wasn't, quite. He shows up, about 37 minutes in, as a hippie in Bob Einstein's obscure 1972 spoof Another Nice Mess, with Rich Little and Herb Voland as a Laurel-and-Hardy-esque Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew.
4. Chiwetel Ejiofor for 2012
Remember when the Mayan calendar said we were all done for in December of 2012? Hopefully you were smart enough to realize that, with only a precious few years remaining to this world, you had better things to do than sit through Roland Emmerich's grandly inane epic 2012 (2009), almost certainly the least frightening Doomsday vision ever.
If so, you may not be aware that one of the film's heroes was a pure-hearted geologist played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, currently stunning audiences as Solomon Northup in 12 Years a Slave. Emmerich's movie offered Ejiofor quite a daunting acting challenge too: that of unfolding the pseudoscientific babble explaining how the Mayans had nailed it, and planetary alignment and solar eruptions were about to make the earth's core throw a tantrum.
Ejiofor's dreary expository duties are probably not what people remember about the film. If they remember anything, it's the other hero, limo driver and struggling sci-fi writer John Cusack, frantically taking his family to the Santa Monica airport while the surface of the greater L.A. area buckles away just behind the car like a ruined soufflé. Cusack pilots the car around, over or even straight through one collapsing edifice after another, and despite the extravagance of the visuals, the sequence carries absolutely no sense of real danger or threat. It feels, rather, more like an externalization of the emotional state you're in when you're running late.
Once Cusack and company's wild Buster Keaton ride begins, any claim on our authentic eschatological dread simply caves in faster than the earth's crust. Thus 2012 starts to seem like a sort of an EPCOT Center of the Apocalypse: we see Yellowstone Park destroyed, then Vegas, then Washington D.C., then Rome, and so forth. It isn't boring, at least not at first, but there isn't a whiff of horror or pity, or even, really, much variety - as with other thrill rides, the various episodes of ruination start to seem much the same.
It runs out of fun altogether in the climactic scenes, with Ejiofor passionately insisting that there's room for more people on the international survival ark on which he has a berth, and skunky Oliver Platt taking the con position. This is followed by a long and gruelingly tedious struggle to get the ark's jammed door closed.
The movie's major distinction, perhaps, is commercial: As I recall, the very last lines of 2012 are a product placement. Some things even Doomsday can't destroy.
3. Meryl Streep for Mamma Mia!
This one sets Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgard, Colin Firth, Julie Walters and Christine Baranski gamboling about a Greek island, using ABBA's hits and near-hits to string together a dopey little musical-comedy plot in which Streep, as an expat American running a hotel, is unsure which of her three old flings (Brosnan, Skarsgard, Firth) fathered her daughter (Amanda Seyfried) 20 years ago and should now walk her down the aisle at her wedding.
Going in, I was pretty sure I'd enjoy it. Watching a bunch of famous actors goofing their way through the finely-crafted pop ballads of Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus sounded like fun whether it was good or bad. For a while it was fun, too, just because it's so campy and shameless and strange, and because Streep, a real trouper, gamely pushes things along by force of her good-humored exuberance.
The dialogue is really insipid, though, even by the standards I was expecting. As the movie drags on, and even tries to get a little serious toward the end, you may find yourself starting to feel embarrassed for the cast members. Also, from time to time the careworn Greek peasants drop their bundles of sticks or whatever and join in as a chorus - a Greek Chorus, but not the good kind - backing up the cavorting of the expats in perfect English. Somehow this has an unsavory, almost minstrel-show flavor; it's surprising that no Hellenic Anti-Defamation League complained.
2. Matthew McConaughey for Paparazzi
"Awright, awright, awright..."
Glorious though Matthew McConaughey's classic turn as the easygoing perv Wooderson in Dazed and Confused may be, it's still remarkable what a varied film career to which he's gone on. In looking for a low point to his career in contrast to his fine star performance in Dallas Buyers Club, the obvious choice is the lousy Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation (released 1994, but shot years earlier), in which he played one of the psycho Texans opposite Renee Zellweger.
But I'm going to narrowly give the honor, instead, to 2004's Paparazzi, a lame thriller starring Cole Hauser as an action movie star bedeviled by vile paparazzi, the vilest being Tom Sizemore. It gets the nod here only because McConaughey, in his very brief appearance near the end of the film, plays the role of...Matthew McConaughey, congratulating Hauser's character on his new film Adrenaline Force 2 after the premiere.
Something about this cameo suggests a halfhearted endorsement of the movie, as does Chris Rock's bit as a pizza delivery guy. Both may well have been favors called in by the producer, Mel Gibson, who turns up himself for a tiny appearance as an anger management patient. What a riot.
OK, time to tear open the envelope...but what shall we call the uncoveted award? The Toppie? The Robbie? The Bottie? Whatever, the honor goes to...
1. Bruce Dern for The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant
Early on, in the '60s, there were some cheesy biker pictures, and later on, in the '90s, there was that wretched remake of The Haunting. But none of these, nor a few other low points, can quite compare, in the career of the superb Bruce Dern, nominated this year for his wonderfully taciturn performance in Nebraska, with The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant.
This 1971 shocker features Dern as a mad scientist experimenting with, as you might guess, the transplanting of noggins from one body to another. After success with a monkey, he tries affixing the melon of a raving sexual psychopath (Albert Cole) to the body of a slow-witted but titanically strong giant (John Bloom). This operation is also a success - an incredible success, you might say - but its results prove unfortunate.
This movie isn't just ridiculous, it's also highly sleazy and twisted. A year later, AIP released a more agreeable semi-remake called The Thing With Two Heads, with a blaxploitation twist: bigot Ray Milland's head gets attached to soul brother Rosey Grier's shoulder. I've long felt that an opportunity was missed, during the 2008 election, for a remake featuring Obama and McCain and titled The Thing with Two Heads of State.
Anyway, it should be noted that nasty and unsavory though Incredible 2-Headed Transplant may be, right there in the middle of it is Dern, giving a genuinely good, believable performance as the well-intentioned, utterly self-absorbed whackjob of a scientist. And this is what I keep noticing about this list. Terrible as these movies are, in almost every case - not in DiCaprio's, but he was still developing - the nominee is the best thing about the flick in question. So I guess there may be a reason that they ended up nominated.
Previously by M.V. Moorhead: