Here Are the Nominees revisits a randomly selected Oscar-nominated film from the past. We’ll examine the nominations it received, weigh in on their merit, and see how the film holds up in general today.
The Nominations:
- Best Actor – Richard Dreyfuss
There’s an argument that 1994’s Forrest Gump might be the quintessential 90s movie. It’s almost certainly not the best, but it represents the decade because it most blatantly tapped into the one thing that audiences of the decade seemed to want: nostalgia. Looking back on the times that formed us is always going to be popular, but it seemed to really reach a fever pitch as the 20th century came to a close. Think of the most popular and enduring films of the decade. Titanic, The Shawshank Redemption, Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan, etc. Movies with contemporary settings would stylistically evoke an earlier time, as in Pulp Fiction or Swingers. Sometimes, as in Pleasantville, they’d outright long for the past. Of the 10 Best Picture winners released in the 1990s, only two – The Silence of the Lambs and American Beauty – weren’t period pieces.
Stephen Herek’s 1995 crowd-pleaser, Mr. Holland’s Opus, fits perfectly into this motif. Herek, the director of Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and The Mighty Ducks, was no stranger to easily accessible crowd-pleasers, and with this film he showed he could execute drama just as well. It’s the story of an unemployed composer, the titular Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfuss), taking a job teaching music at a local high school to help make ends meet in the early 1960s. He’s not initially interested, looking at it as just a job, but ultimately comes to care more about the job than anything, including, at times, his own family. This happens over three decades, and we mark the time with intercut scenes of major American milestones of the era, and with a new hairstyle for Dreyfuss.
Mr. Holland’s Opus was a hit at the box office, turning its $30M budget into over $100M in grosses worldwide, and it’s easy to see why. It stuck to the Gump formula. First, it gave us a character we could identify with. In Gump, we may not have identified with his intellectual struggles, but viewers can share the feeling of seeing history rapidly take place all around them. Americans in the latter 20th century were part of a great change, and whether or not they could claim responsibility, they were at least a witness – just like Forrest. Conversely, Glenn Holland is a man who believes he’s an agent of great change, a composer capable of changing American music. Like Forrest, he’s a witness (albeit not as first-hand, but who could ever be?), but Glenn represents a different angle of the late 20th century American – one who feels passed by by the great change. The harsh world lays waste to the work he does – wars claim former students, a tragic irony undermines his family, and politics slowly render him obsolete. Like many Americans of the era, he spends a lot of time unsatisfied with the hand he’s dealt, and at one point is tempted by a student to fold and re-deal. But this isn’t a messy film, so he makes the unmessy decision to stick it through, love his family, and persevere.
Second, it ends with a triumph, because it has to. Audiences of 1995 could watch William Wallace get disemboweled for freedom, sure, but they need the Baby Boomer to win. It’s a tearjerking triumph, and even though it’s all a bit unrealistic and convenient, it works. This is a man who, at the end of his career, has to realize that he did great work after all. It’s the moment of catharsis that Glenn needs. It’s the moment America needs.
It’s easy to wonder if Dreyfuss fully earned that Best Actor nomination, at least for this part. He’s one of the finer actors of his era, and I’ve long believed his boiling comic performance in What About Bob? is a masterwork. But there’s just not a lot to Mr. Holland that you can’t get from almost any other Dreyfuss role. If anything, the nomination speaks to his talents in general. This may not stand out as a singularly great performance, but it’s a performance from a great actor. Mr. Holland’s Opus is, at least on the page, a formulaic made for TV type of movie. Put Richard Dreyfuss in it, especially in the role of an arrogant man frustrated by his lot in life, and it becomes instantly compelling. You can see shades of Roy Neary in this performance; like Roy, Glenn feels a compulsive desire for something bigger than the suburban life he’s found. Dreyfuss always seems to bring an air of superiority to the screen, so he’s both believable when Glenn Holland whines about his unappreciated greatness and exactly the type of person you would believe needs to change and accept that maybe he’s not destined for greatness. With another actor, we might root for his big break, and even want him to run off to Broadway with Rowena. But with Dreyfuss, we hold Glenn in contempt for even considering it, and we’re ultimately more pleased with his decision to commit himself to his family.
The last half hour is pure saccharine, from the manipulative yet sweet “Beautiful Boy” performance all the way to the grand finale. But thanks to Dreyfuss keeping both his family and us at bay for so long, we welcome it. It’s hard to see Mr. Holland’s Opus working as well as it does with another actor. It’s a good film, but it also really looks a lot like the Oscar-bait you’ll see parodied in other media. While I’d probably stop short of declaring him worthy of the ’95 nomination, it’s not a particularly legendary field – a characteristic that helped Nicolas Cage get his sole win for Leaving Las Vegas.
Actually, if there’s any performer in Mr. Holland’s Opus that seems to obviously be doing Oscar-worthy work, it’s Glenne Headly as Mrs. Holland. The “I want to talk to my son” scene is the rawest this movie gets. She’s supportive of her husband, but frustrated by his disinterest in their son, and even seems to feel as if he blames her for Cole’s condition. She’s the emotional through-line of the film; when Mr. Holland gets his big triumph at the end, it feels as much a triumph for Mrs. Holland. He may have stubbornly taught all those students to love music, but she stubbornly taught Glenn to love someone other than himself and his work. It took her decades – long, nostalgia-marked decades – but she manages to do it. And if Glenn can learn, anyone can. Wipe your tears, stand up and cheer, and exit out the back of the theater. It’s a formula, after all, but Mr. Holland’s Opus is an example of why the formula exists to begin with. If it’s done right, audiences will come, and they came in droves in 1995. A silver anniversary later, thanks to Dreyfuss, Headly, and that never-ending thirst for nostalgia, it’s as watchable as ever.
Mr. Holland’s Opus is currently streaming on HBO.