Blue Jasmine

If Cate Blanchett doesn’t win tonight’s Oscar for her performance in Blue Jasmine, I shall be gobsmacked. She gives a completely remarkable, sustained, emotionally rollercoastered tour de force performance as Jasmine, a New York socialite who finds herself in hard times after the suicide of her husband (a licentious Madoff-style crook of monumentally shitty proportions.)

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Left cuckolded, bankrupt and mentally fragile, she travels to San Francisco to stay with her estranged sister, one of Madoff’s early victims. But these are the last days of her illusions of grandeur, and they are about to come crashing dowm. It’s a great film, almost solely due to Blanchett’s brilliance (though Sally Hemmings as her rather more downmarket sister is great too.) But Blanchett? Brilliant. Setting aside my complete dislike of the utterly sleazy filmmaker, this is one for the record books. Location wise, there’s not a tangible sense of place as there often is in Woody Allen movies, though there’s some sight-seeing around and about the city.