Listmania ’11! Miscellaneous Movie Observations: Part Three
Oh blogging. You are the occasional pastime that makes me absurdly unhappy, for the most part. That’s because I don’t do it as often as I would like, and so when I do I over do it and write posts large enough to choke Cthulhu. And this last post in Listmania metastasised as soon as I started complaining about something; griping posts tend to run out of control. Friend of the blog @Beggarsoshat said to me after my Listmania! Crew Contributions post that he looked forward to me listing my favourite dolly grip of 2011, and after I had stopped crying because of how much he had cut me to the core, I wondered if there was maybe something in that. Why not keep spinning this out? I’m scratching my blogging itch even though all I’m doing is lazily transcribing the thoughts I’ve had lying around in my “mind palace” for months anyway.
But how could I? How could I keep talking about last year’s movies when I’d only seen 120 of them? Simple; why not talk about movies released in 2010? People love reading reviews of movies released 14 months ago. I traditionally do this during Listmania! season as an aside in the last post, but as this post had already gone all top heavy, why not post this section on its own without all of the other photo-heavy stuff I had planned on posting (and which will turn up in Listmania ’11: Miscellaneous Movie Observations: Part Four, and probably Five, Six and Seven too)? And so here we are, with a couple of thousand words on three movies that I’m sure only a handful of people have already talked about. After all, the first movie here was a pretty obscure little number.
Best Film(s) From 2010 That We Saw In 2011: True Grit / Tangled
Both of these movies were released in the UK just after SoC finished its last Listmania (which was done a lot quicker and with less baloney than this one, I can tell you), but would have radically changed the state of my Best Movies of ’10 completely. Both would have breached the top ten, with True Grit possibly making it into the hallowed and legendary top five of that year. The Coens were coming off the back of one of their least accessible — but most highly regarded — films with A Serious Man, and True Grit represents one of their “crowdpleasers”, if that’s the right word, as they did with No Country For Old Men and Burn After Reading. This is a slightly different beast, too dramatic to qualify as one of their comedies, but too funny to be a tragedy. It’s the most successful blending of their two different “flavours” to date.
The pleasures of this magnificent Western are numerous, but the best thing about it is the precise dialogue, which evokes the Wild West in a way only David Milch has ever come close to achieving. This poetry — so often evident in their writing but at its most striking here — is matched by the photography by Roger “King” Deakins, who does career best work with shadows and darkness; the night-time ride to save Mattie is one of the most haunting scenes in recent cinema, a dream painted almost solely with black. Hailee Steinfeld shines in her first role, perfectly riding the line between charmingly forward and obnoxiously precocious. I can picture her playing The Hunger Games‘ Katniss Everdeen far more readily than Jennifer Lawrence — an actress I admire but who is too old for the character, as are co-stars Liam Hemsworth and Josh Hutcherson.
She’s matched by Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon, who both have their own balancing acts to do, between humour and drama. While Bridges has the flashier character to work with, Damon has a harder job, playing a dandified and ridiculous ranger LaBeouf who wins over Mattie and the audience despite being an awful blow-hard. Obviously, he succeeds; with each performance SoC realises how lucky we all are to have such a thoughtful, charming actor working today. This is not to take away from Bridges, though, who is as good here as he is in The Big Lebowski. This was already a late-career classic from the Coens, but his vastly entertaining turn pushes True Grit up there with Lebowski, Miller’s Crossing, and A Serious Man.
But I’ve had trouble figuring out whether I love it more than Disney’s Tangled, which so completely fried my brain at IMAX that I became a fervent and boring proselytist for it for months after. If you’re a 3D sceptic, this is the movie to change your mind. Seeing this in 3D, on that vast screen, was a memorable, tear-inducing experience I shall cherish forever. The whole film is great fun and filled with lovable characters (none more so than defiant horse Maximus), but the most memorable scene is also the single greatest use of 3D I’ve ever seen. Being in that room, dwarfed by the vast IMAX screen, was the most immersive cinema experience I’ve ever had. The illusion of being surrounded by floating lanterns was utterly convincing; when I wasn’t distracted by wiping tears from my eyes, that is.
The songs by Alan Menken feature lyrics from his sometime collaborator Glenn Slater; a happier fit than Stephen Schwartz, at least on this small sampling. They’re rich and funny and charming, reminiscent of his best work with the late, much-missed Howard Ashman. They’re the cherry on top of a superbly well-designed movie, that matches its symbolism (the light motif is present throughout) with its story so deftly that I wanted to applaud throughout. I’ll even go so far as to say… ::deep breath:: …I think I like it more than Beauty and the Beast, and I really loved Beauty and the Beast. It’s a triumph for Disney; a thrilling modernisation of their animation technique that pays humble tribute to the studio’s history, and possibly a portent of great things to come. SoC can’t wait to see what comes next.
Worst Film From 2010 That We Saw In 2011: Morning Glory
Until last year it looked like the movie output of Bad Robot Productions was going to be less diverse than their TV division, which has tried (and failed) to tap non-nerd audiences with Six Degrees and What about Brian? It’s worth praising them for adding Morning Glory to a roster that so far contains only sci-fi and spy movies (not counting Joy Ride), but the addition of something this unchallenging makes you wonder if Bad Robot’s other movies are as cynically produced as this. Even with a terrific cast (including Harrison Ford, in his liveliest performance since The Fugitive) and an interesting director, it has an enormous handicap: a rote script by dreaded screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna.
If Michael Bay is a cinematic villain for aiming all of his movies at the same Mountain-Dew-drinking, FHM-absorbing, Call-Of-Duty-playing fratboy demographic, then can we add Brosh McKenna to Hollywood’s rogues gallery for making numerous movies from the same template in which a doofy woman — with work skills so brilliant and yet so poorly depicted that she almost appears to have mystical powers — has trouble finding a man due to a habit of occasionally bursting with an emotion-geyser like all the normal people don’t. So far ABM has churned out 27 Dresses, The Devil Wears Prada, I Don’t Know How She Does It, and now Morning Glory; it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between them as they come tumbling down the conveyor belt like malformed Barbie dolls.
Among its crimes: trying to make us believe that Rachel McAdams’ awkwardness is representative of some large cross-section of the female audience, and that bagging Patrick “Saintly and Uncomplicated Love Interest” Wilson is some kind of victory for these mythical klutzy women; making Diane Keaton rap with 50 Cent in a display of cinematic desperation unmatched by anything else released in the past four years; punishing McAdams by making her run in high heels in almost every scene, which just makes her look like a lunatic with superhumanly strong ankles; inadvertently making Anchorman — a Dada-esque comedy — the superior comment on the treatment of women in the TV industry; setting up Harrison Ford as a villain with the AWFUL crime of criticising McAdams’ fringe/bangs; making me pine for another Bridget Jones sequel just to stop Brosh McKenna from going back to that dried-up well.
Worst of all, it attempts to make a case for breakfast news as something worthwhile, something as necessary as serious investigative journalism. Ford’s Mark Pomeroy is portrayed as a conceited horse’s ass who has a snooty attitude to the fripperies of breakfast TV, objecting to the clowning of Daybreak’s jokiest segments. We’re meant to be excited when he abandons his serious self in order to make a frittata in an effort to magically summon McAdams from her job interview with NBC (because all job interviews are done in the morning while you’re supposed to be at work).
This character moment, which shows what he is willing to sacrifice in order to placate his producer McAdams, softens him — a nice twist on the romcom trope where a romantic interest humbles himself in order to win the girl. And yet no matter what side-effects this final act has, we can’t escape the fact that this is a betrayal of a good point personified by the grizzled old news hound pining for his old career. All the way through the movie he’s right about the importance of investigative journalism, and McAdams is so averse to his philosophy that he has to lie to her to get her to cover the scandal story he’s been trying to tell her about for weeks, and only seems to recognise its value for the sake of plot convenience. And to stop her looking like a complete idiot.
This is similar to the scene in Devil Wears Prada in which Meryl Streep defends fashion from criticisms that it isn’t important. It’s a very well-acted speech by a great actress, but her claims that high fashion is what eventually trickles down to the lowest forms of clothing — that the Cerulean blue she celebrates in haute couture one month becomes the blue that everyone wears later — isn’t really the answer to the question “why should we care about fashion”, because if we weren’t wearing that shade of blue we’d just wear another. What she’s arguing for is the influence of fashion journalism, which is fine, but it’s a bit disingenuous to assume that without Vogue we wouldn’t know how to dress ourselves. Though I will say InStyle is a fine publication (one for @Ms_RH there).
So here we’re meant to swallow the line that breakfast TV is an essential component of the news cycle, that it acts as the “sugar” that sweetens the “fibre” that constitutes news. As if the world isn’t awash with sugar, while fibre is rarely present in our news diet. Anyone who watches, say, BBC Breakfast (which SoC has railed against before), will note that what little serious news is shown inbetween puff pieces and appearances by the magnificently oleaginous Chris DeBurgh is poorly researched, biased, and revealing of the presenters’ poor preparation. Any time the show covers matters of popular culture more racy than Midsomer Murders, or youth issues, will know that this is less fibre, more asbestos.
So to see a movie attempt to make excuses for something inconsequential, when in actual fact it’s salty and challenging investigative journalism that needs to be celebrated, is like hearing the self-defensive and unconvincing justifications of someone caught watching something frowned upon by others — say for example, a cliche-ridden Aline Brosh McKenna movie that sets back gender politics about 20 years. If you want to watch a breakfast show that spends more time covering Al Roker being a clown than it does serious issues, that’s your prerogative. If you want to argue that this is important, do it by making your case, not by belittling serious journalism. And Bad Robot? Stick to what you know best (i.e. lens flares).
Will this ever end? Can I keep this going forever? If not, I’m taking a break from it as soon as Listmania! is finally brought to heel, which will either be by mass reader apathy or a typing coma.
Listmania ‘09! The Best Movies Of The Year
For the longest time it seemed like 2009 would be a truly dreadful year in film, perhaps as a consequence of the writers’ strike last year. By the end of it I felt like we’d had a pretty good run, once the summer was over. The early months were a desert with only Coraline making a dent in my memory, but by the time December rolled around with the release of Avatar, it felt like a more rounded experience. Even better, though we had a few horribly delayed releases (such as Up, which was disgracefully held back from UK release for six months), there are only a few movies that have yet to be released over here that have attracted our attention, and even then we’re not that bothered. The most frustrating omissions were our own fault. Jane Campion’s Bright Star came and went so quickly we missed out on seeing it, as did Lone Scherfig’s An Education. Sherlock Holmes came out this week but illness and schedule clashes mean we will be seeing it in 2010. It’s frustrating, but compared to last year’s maddening delays in seeing Rachel Getting Married and Synecdoche, New York, it’s nowhere near as bad.
So anyway, here are my top 25 movies of 2009, in order. Hopefully soon I will get to post my bottom 25. It was depressingly easy to complete that list.
Best Movies of the Year:
25. Adventureland
Greg Mottola’s coming-of-age story is good enough to make me forgive it for being a coming-of-age story (a sub-genre I have little time for). Sensitive performances and a perfectly judged tone set it apart, and I expect second and third viewings will cement it as a favourite in the future.
24. A Christmas Carol
Though Charles Dickens’ novel suffers from being adapted too many times, this version was loyal enough to the source material to stand above the rest. Robert Zemeckis cleverly used his performance capture technology to create a world that looks like a living painting, and — for the most part — his thoughtful direction and stately command of pace are refreshingly old-fashioned.
23. Red Cliff: Part Two
A crushing disappointment after the genius of the first installment, John Woo’s epic finale to the Three Kingdoms story was hobbled by tedious subplots about the horrors of war, as well as an unsatisfying final confrontation with evil Prime Minister Cao Cao. Still, there were enough superb moments to save it, including an enormous conflagration, hardcore badassery from the heroes, and entertaining cunning from Zhuge Liang.
22. White Material
Working as a comment on racial identity, colonialism, and the guilt that attends it, Claire Denis’ movie is a fascinating and thought-provoking experience. It also serves as a fantastic thriller, with its air of imminent collapse building to a nerve-wracking conclusion. Isabelle Huppert is mesmerising as the plantation owner who dooms all around her with her arrogance.
21. Zombieland
While vampires became a singularly obnoxious cinematic plague, zombies went from flavour-of-the-month to pariahs. Nevertheless, Ruben Fleischer’s apocalyptic comedy was a delightful surprise, perfectly cast and thoroughly entertaining. It also featured the cameo appearance of the year, and one best left unspoiled.
20. The Brothers Bloom
For a few minutes Rian Johnson’s con-trick drama seems like a precious and finicky conglomeration of obnoxious post-Anderson tricks and tics, but thankfully it becomes a warm and humane antidote to David Mamet’s cerebral dominance of the sub-genre. The key to its appeal is an endearing central performance from Rachel Weisz, whose enthusiastic embrace of the brothers’ tricksiness grounds the film even while the plot spirals off in unexpected directions and Johnson’s camera flies around with such exuberant unpredictability. Despite faltering slightly in the final act, its ambition and seriousness of purpose were a resounding success.
19. A Serious Man
The Coens excel at taking on unorthodox projects and surprising their fans, but they also rely on a set of narrative tricks that repeat from movie to movie. A Serious Man was no different, with their familiar exploration of our cosmic insignificance coming into play again. Nevertheless, here their tricks felt fresh again, matched as they were to a plot revolving around morality and heavenly punishment. Casting unknown actors was possibly the masterstroke: it certainly made the movie feel like nothing else out there. It ranks as their most entertaining and most challenging film since The Big Lebowski.
18. Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea
Remarkable to think that Hayao Miyazaki is capable of making movies even lighter and more whimsical than anything he has previously offered us. At times Ponyo can feel too fluffy, and longueurs plague the second half of the film, but these minor errors are easily forgiven in the rush of incredible images. Ponyo’s mid-movie escape from the clutches of her misguided father is among the most visionary and exhilarating setpieces of recent times, aided by the Wagnerian stings of Joe Hisaishi’s beautiful score.
17. Coraline
Henry Selick’s stunning adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s book is a feast for the eyes, as technically impressive as anything committed to film this year by Digital Domain, ILM or BUF. It’s also one of the scariest films of the year, one of those rare childrens’ movies that is unafraid to terrify its audience. Some of the imagery lingers in the memory with the upsetting persistence of the worst nightmares. Also great was the delicate use of Digital 3D. In the year of Avatar, it’s worth remembering that Selick and his team figured out how to use the technology to subtly enhance the viewing experience before anyone else.
16. The Hurt Locker
By the midpoint of 2009, it honestly felt as if the writers’ strike of 2008 had left us in the middle of a drought. Nothing truly exceptional had been released, and so when Kathryn Bigelow’s superb war thriller came out it was leapt upon as if it were a fusion of Paths of Glory and Apocalypse Now. Third act problems drain some of the energy from it, but even so, no other movie about the Iraq war has done so much to capture the futile stupidity of it, nor made such a pointed comment about the deranging effect it has had on our psyche. That it is also a nerve-wracking thriller is a welcome bonus.
15. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
Expectations for Werner Herzog’s crime thriller were low, with only those few of us who revel in the unpredictability of Nicolas Cage holding out any hope. Thankfully Herzog surprised everyone with this demented triumph. Though it could have been turned into a conventional tale of depravity and redemption, Herzog, Cage, and writer William Finkelstein have little interest in following a traditional path, sketching all kinds of entertaining madness in the margins. It helps that Cage was let off the leash. His intense level of commitment to the project is the key to Bad Lieutenant: POCNO‘s success. Welcome back, you mad bastard.
14. Drag Me To Hell
While Sam Raimi’s gleeful homage to EC Comics-style moralising concerned one young woman’s efforts to avoid being sent to hell, this felt like Raimi had escaped from the kind of big-budget purgatory that he had once railed against. Though still obviously made with more money than he had once had at his disposal, Drag Me To Hell was a return to Raimi’s anything-goes ethos. No other movie made this year tried so hard to generate a response in the audience, and it was almost entirely successful. A regression for the genre, maybe, but an incredibly entertaining one.
13. Where The Wild Things Are
It looked like we would never get to see Spike Jonze’s unconventional adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s book. When it finally arrived, critical and popular opinion seemed to split right down the middle. Post-release discussion seemed to focus on subjective accounts of how the movie resurrected very specific memories of childhood, with those who were unmoved by the movie stating that it just didn’t speak to them personally. The vision of Jonze and Dave Eggers is certainly gloomy, repetitive, unfocused and pretty unappealing, but I cannot lie: early scenes brought back horrible memories from my youth, and the unflinching depiction of Max’s confused rage rocked me to my core.
12. District 9
Viewed as an allegory about apartheid-era South Africa, Neill Blomkamp’s low-budget SF action film gets tangled up in clumsy metaphorical dead-ends and ill-judged racial stereotyping that blunts the message. Seen as a misanthropic denunciation of venality across all races and species, it becomes far more palatable. Blomkamp’s exciting and imaginative tale takes the audience down unexpected paths, skillfully building to a finale of surprising emotional resonance. I won’t lie: the final sacrifice of one character made me sob.
11. Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs
The most pleasant surprise of 2009. Clone High creators Phil Lord and Chris Miller did the same as Spike Jonze — take a beloved but slight children’s book and adapt it into a new format with a drastic change of tone — but veered off in a different direction. Perhaps Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs accomplished less than Where The Wild Things Are in terms of illuminating the mental turmoil of childhood, but while it “merely” sets out to entertain, it did that with amazing success. Gleefully irreverent, pro-nerd, and willing to poke fun at every awful convention of lazy cookie-cutter filmmaking, it is also arguably the funniest comedy of the year.
10. Up
It’s tempting to leave Up off the list as punishment for manipulating adult audiences into crying miserable tears of mourning for an adorable animated couple and, by extension, ourselves. Nothing else this year moved us as much as that magnificently rendered and utterly devastating opening montage. The level of storytelling talent on display was humbling. The rest of the movie was wonderful too, building on that resonant set-up to deliver a winning adventure, featuring the funniest animal characters of the year. An emotionally exhausting film, but a life-affirming one.
9. Fish Tank
Avoiding the tawdry cultural voyeurism of the works of overrated ghouls such as Mike Leigh or Lee Daniels is the least of Fish Tank‘s many achievements, though one we can be most grateful for. It is also a compelling exploration of youth culture as seen through the eyes of a confused child on the cusp of adulthood. Katie Jarvis’ Mia is a fascinating and sympathetic character, aware that she is trapped in a life that offers her nothing, but eager to escape with her dignity intact. Unfortunately, she’s incapable of avoiding making some terrible mistakes along the way. It also has the grip of a thriller, cleverly changing tone in the final act without sacrificing believability. Yet another classic from Andrea Arnold.
8. Public Enemies
It’s possible to reduce Michael Mann’s adaptation of Bryan Burrough’s exploration of the 1930′s crimewave to just a period retelling of Heat, with Johnny Depp’s Dillinger and Christian Bale’s Melvin Purvis as dapper versions of McCauley and Hanna, but that would miss out on his deft commentary on the narcissism of these criminals and how new technologies increased popular fascination with the outlaw. Mann marks the moment where demand for titillation grew to the extent that public attention began to fuel the events that it demanded, and this fine, exciting crime thriller ends on a memorable moment where popular culture begins to eat itself.
7. Antichrist
Lars Von Trier has finally appeared to let his obnoxious mask of superiority drop long enough to tell a tale informed by his recent nervous breakdown, and the result is one of the most affecting and disturbing horror films of recent times. Conjuring an atmosphere of dread even more upsetting than anything that master of mood Hideo Nakata could create, Von Trier pits man against woman, and humanity against nature. No one wins, except anyone brave enough to endure this remarkable and starkly beautiful nightmare vision of a world — and a grief-stricken mother — gone mad.
6. Fantastic Mr. Fox
How bold of Wes Anderson to take the work of a respected author and bolt his own style of preppy, fussy humour onto it, and your acceptance of this depends fully on your acceptance of his shtick. To those of us in love with that viewpoint — and that obsessive attention to amusing detail — Fantastic Mr. Fox was yet another success, playing with the same themes of redemption and forgiveness as his previous movies while being just as sassy and fleet-of-foot as his non-animated work. It also works as a satire on the habitual anthropomorphism of the usual animated fare, with these characters being both more human and more bestial than anything populating the movies of Disney and Dreamworks.
5. A Prophet
No matter how much Jacques Audiard maintains he was not making a political statement with this movie, his rousing prison thriller proved to be as multi-layered as the best crime movies of recent times. Malik El Djebena’s growth from callow youth to crime kingpin is fascinating and weirdly inspirational, while the world he lives in is filled with detail about identity politics, French correctional failings, and racial tensions in Europe. It’s also nail-biting, beautifully judged, and performed to perfection.
4. Avatar
While armchair critics fall over themselves to dismiss this movie for being too predictable – a criticism that is being applied with more force than with any other movie released this year – the story is told with enough energy to forgive its clunkiness. James Cameron has always been a master with pace, and here he succeeds in manipulating the audience with a magician’s touch, delivering a groundbreaking visual tour de force into the bargain. Viewing it in Digital 3D IMAX is an unforgettable and thrilling experience.
3. Enter The Void
What James Cameron aimed to do in 3D, Gaspar Noé managed in 2D just months before. His tale of one man’s journey through death is the joint most immersive movie experience of the year, a terrifying and exhilarating cinematic experiment of enormous emotional power, and a technical marvel to boot. Any reservations about its pacing problems are swept away as Noé brings an obsessive rigour to his visual template: a first-person viewpoint that doesn’t falter at any point. That this brave experiment still has no distributor is criminal. If it ever becomes the Midnight Movie phenomenon it deserves to be, make every effort to see it on the biggest screen possible.
2. In The Loop
Armando Iannucci and the Thick of It gang brought their wonderful TV show to the big screen in style, expanding its scope to include the bureaucrats and fools of America, complete with the same venality, paranoia, and incompetence. Funnier even than the original series, it was also densely plotted but lighter than air: a feat of screenwriting to match that of Martin McDonagh with In Bruges last year. None of that would matter if the new cast members were not as talented as the original crew, but the US contingent adapts to the semi-improvisational style with aplomb. A triumph that rewards repeated viewings.
1. Inglourious Basterds
More than any other movie made this year, Inglourious Basterds surprised us all with its piercing intelligence, seriousness of purpose, and deft gameplaying, all of which are applied to an emotionally complex revenge plot that confounds the viewer at every turn. Much has been made of Tarantino’s effort to make a movie in which cinema has the last laugh and reality is forced to bow to its power, but less has been said about his continued facility with character. To the immaculate roll-call that includes Jules Winnfield, Vincent Vega, Jackie Brown, Mr. White, The Bride and Stuntman Mike can be added Shosanna Dreyfus and Hans Landa, the most compelling and haunting characters of the year. Tarantino has every right to be proud of this movie: it is, quite simply, his masterpiece.
Best Documentary: Soul Power
Considered as a sister project to Leon Gast’s When We Were Kings, Jeffrey Levy-Hinte’s documentary about the music festival that ran alongside the Rumble in the Jungle offers up yet more fascinating footage of Muhammad Ali in his prime, sparring with mouthy opportunists and talking about the potential impact of the forthcoming event. It also shows how the festival almost sinks under a tide of ego and bureaucracy. The worst thing that can be said about the movie is that it doesn’t show enough of the festival itself, but even then you still get to see thrilling performances by The Spinners, BB King, Miriam Makeba, and James Brown at the height of his powers. Stingy though the amount of concert footage is, it’s still some of the best music you will ever hear.
Most Embarrassing Admission of the Year: Okay, Soul Power was actually the only documentary I saw this year. Nevertheless, don’t let that put you off seeing it. Even if I’d seen a dozen documentaries this year, I doubt any of them would have been as fun or fulfilling as that one.
No time to dally with small talk: on with the listmaking! More to come when I get the time…
The Top One Hundred and Six Movies of the Oughts (90-76)
As I said in my previous post, this list has been kinda rushed, due to initial reservations about the project. This has meant that I’ve missed some great movies off, and now that I’m committed to doing the list, these movies have to remain excluded so that I don’t invalidate the previous part of the list. Oh, it’s all so confusing! I shall endeavour to cover those missed movies as I go along.
Actually, my decision to leave off Hideo Nakata’s Ringu and Gore Verbinski’s US remake The Ring is because I can never decide which version is my favourite. I go back and forth on this one a lot. Nakata is better at generating an atmosphere of dread, and was the guy who kickstarted the popularity of the J-Horror genre. Nevertheless, Verbinski’s version is stronger than it has any right to be — partially because Naomi Watts is so good in it — and his interpretation of the dreaded video and the effect it has on its victims is more unsettling. Actually, that’s putting it mildly. The first time you see a victim slumped inside a closet, it’ll put the fear of God into you, it’s so horrifying. Unable to decide which version should be included, I chickened out and didn’t put either in. Terrible cowardice, really. Consider both movies “included”, in a sub-category or in some list-tesseract or something.
Anyway, here are the next 15 films in the list. As before, some of these movies are a little low because I’ve only seen them once and never really got to grips with them the way other people have. As my experience of them is limited I cannot figure out if this is because I don’t like them as much as everyone else or my initial opinion was adversely affected by the chatter surrounding them. In time, they may move up or down, but for now, as this is a snapshot of my opinion now, this is where they stay. Again, there are no movies from 2009 on here. I need some distance from them to know if they would qualify. Even the year’s worth of leeway I’ve given myself is not enough. While compiling this list The Dark Knight (my favourite movie of 2009) has jumped up and down the high end of the list several times. I won’t be able to make a firm decision on that for a while. And so, with those caveats, here are numbers 90-76.
90. Spartan
Before co-creating The Unit with Shawn Ryan, David Mamet made this, a clenched fist pretending to be a movie. Val Kilmer is brutally effective as a man doing a job no one wants him to do, spitting Mamet’s truncated, macho dialogue with withering and riveting intensity. A manly, manly movie.
89. South Park: Bigger Longer & Uncut
The TV show still cranks out occasional classic episodes (Red Sleigh Down, Cartoon Wars, Imaginationland), but the big screen expansion of Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s satirical universe might still be its finest hour. Brilliantly making fun of censors, prudes, and warmongers, it even manages to give us some of the best showtunes of the decade.
88. Curse of the Golden Flower
Critics seemed baffled by the lack of martial arts action in Zhang Yimou’s courtly drama, but who needs it? There’s enough intrigue, betrayal, madness and riotous colour here to fuel a dozen movies. Just for Gong Li’s incredible performance, this movie demands reappraisal, and that’s before we get to the ninja action and Chow Yun-Fat in Furious-Anger-mode.
87. Syriana
It’s a toss-up between this and Traffic for inclusion on this list. Stephen Gaghan’s complex multi-strand exploration of how our demand for oil affects all our lives does have a weak sub-plot featuring Jeffrey Wright, but that’s better than the ill-judged Michael Douglas thread in Soderbergh’s movie. Both are great, but Syriana – with its thrilling final act – just edges it. (Consider Traffic no. 107.)
86. The Matrix Reloaded
The Wachowski Siblings managed to alienate the majority of their fans by attempting to expand the initial Matrix movie beyond its resonant but uncomplicated monomythic plot. Though the franchise ran out of steam in the third installment, for the length of this hallucinogenic movie it still seemed like they were telling the best story ever told. Plus, you know, Morpheus used a katana.
85. Hot Fuzz
Enormously entertaining on first viewing, Edgar Wright’s pitch-perfect homage to hyper-aggressive US cop movies gets better with every rewatch. The effort put into its intricate plotting is a joy to behold, and the casting could not be more impressive. A Who’s Who of British character actors having the time of their lives = film heaven.
84. Jindabyne
Taking the same starting point as one of the threads from Altman’s Short Cuts (Raymond Carver’s short story So Much Water So Close to Home), Ray Lawrence spins a tale of marital discord and touches on themes of racial and gender politics with a deft hand. Gabriel Byrne and Laura Linney give two of their most complex performances.
83. Once
The most grounded, unspectacular musical ever made, John Carney’s tale of two musicians making music amid the urban isolation of Dublin won the hearts of audiences across the world. Its ambitions were slight, but Hansard and Irglová’s gorgeous music gave Once an emotional heft that dwarfed almost everything else released that year.
82. The Hunted
Before Bourne, there was this William Friedkin-helmed cat-and-mouse actioner, pared down to the bone in much the same way as Walter Hill’s action classics. Tommy Lee Jones and Benicio Del Toro are near-silent killing machines destined to fight to the death, with all other considerations ignored. Easily Friedkin’s best film since The Exorcist.
81. The Orphanage
Conjuring the same atmosphere of impending dread as Robert Wise and Jack Clayton did with classic ghost movies The Haunting and The Innocents, Juan Antonio Bayona’s directorial debut managed to provide chilling scares and heartbreaking tragedy in equal measure.
80. The Constant Gardener
On the surface Fernando Meirelles’ environmental thriller was just another tale of corporate intrigue, but Rachel Weisz’s Oscar-winning performance — and Ralph Fiennes’ superb turn as her bereaved husband — turned it into something more interesting and melancholic: a meditation on how love can ruin a life once the object of adoration has gone.
79. [Rec]
Of all the camcorder horror movies of this decade, perhaps the most successful was Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza’s claustrophobic virus-zombie effort. Though less wide-ranging than Cloverfield, Blair Witch, or the thematically similar 28 Days/Years Later movies, it did one thing better than all of them: it was scary throughout, and utterly terrifying at the end.
78. No Country For Old Men
The Coens hewed so close to their source material that it would have been hard to mess it up, but even so, their direction was exemplary, conjuring up numerous exhausting setpieces and an iconic representation of chaotic evil from Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh. It managed something you would think impossible: improving on the work of Cormac McCarthy.
77. There Will Be Blood
Paul Thomas Anderson deserves plaudits for taking such overwhelming thematic material and boiling it down into a tale of how greed can ruin one man’s soul. What makes Daniel Day Lewis’ work as Daniel Plainview so special is not the pyrotechnics, but the hint that by the end of his life he is so lost that he doesn’t care. It’s as chilling as a horror movie plot.
76. The Darjeeling Limited
A trek across India by three estranged brothers tested the patience of many viewers, either by presenting a view of American obliviousness abroad that lacked necessary satirical pointers, or by relying on too many Andersonian tics. To this viewer, the jokes, the narrative gameplaying, and Robert Yeoman’s gorgeous photography, were enough.
Okay, that was a bit less overwrought. More to come, if WordPress will ever stop crashing. ::grumble grumble::
The TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS Box of Incomprehensible Mysteriousness
WARNING! Spoilers for Richard Kelly’s The Box, and semi-sort-of-not-really spoilers for John Sayles’ Limbo…
Richard Kelly is now three for three. In terms of bad movies pretending to be thought-provoking artistic statements marrying SF, philosophy, pop culture, and visually uninteresting motifs, that is. His notorious and oft-lauded feature debut was Donnie Darko, a TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS SF thriller about a boy, a weird rabbit, and something about time-travelling through an Einstein-Rosen bridge, all wrapped in pilfered Lynchian atmospherics. It also featured the line “Go suck a fuck”, which annoyed me so much at the time I think it made my brain come unglued in my head. That said, it also featured some interesting ideas.
Kelly was smart enough to take the filmmaking capital he earned with that movie and instantly spend it on Southland Tales, a love letter to Los Angeles that doubled as a hyper-stylised satire of the political state of America post-9/11, with surveillance culture running out of control and alternate fuel technology creating some kind of instability in the space-time continuum. Seeking to comment on every hot-button political issue at once, it ended up saying nothing. It didn’t help that Kelly couldn’t keep his imagination-dick in his brain-pants, and thus saturated the movie with dozens and dozens of TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS events that remained unexplained by the time the credits rolled, even if you read the bewildering graphic novel he wrote as a prologue. It was a 21st Century Wild Palms, only 3000 times more self-indulgent and, regrettably, not co-directed by Kathryn Bigelow.
It was a critical and commercial disaster, premiered in rough cut at Cannes to an audience that hated it and then unleashed on a world that just didn’t care about it. As with any visionary SF movie a cult sprung up around it, but even though I have been known to champion all kinds of flawed but ambitious projects, Southland Tales made me livid. Kelly tantalises us with yet more interesting ideas, but these are left unformed or unexplored, leading to a finale of desperately opaque meaning. Either Kelly created an intentionally vague movie to cynically provoke discussion, or he doesn’t know what the hell he is doing. This interview features a telling paragraph:
As “Southland Tales” was going down in flames at Cannes, Mr. Kelly was still sorting through the details of his back story. He wrote the first book before the shoot and completed the second just before Cannes. He wrote the third while re-editing the movie. Working on them simultaneously helped clarify the big picture. “I needed to solve the riddle in my own mind,” he said.
I’ve heard most writer-directors say they figure out what story they are telling during the editing process, but I always thought that was a metaphor. This disjointed, sprawling nonsense – Short Cuts, as directed by a cross between Philip K. Dick and Cartman — is the work of someone with no concept of discipline. His magnum opus turned out to be little more than a bloated Pez dispenser filled with dreary hallucinations, alt-rock standards, and misunderstood quotes from T.S. Eliot. Other than entertaining performances from Seann William Scott, Amy Poehler, Wood Harris and (especially) The Rock, it was worthless.
And yet I’ve been desperate to see The Box ever since it was announced. During a recent Twitter conversation about Donnie Darko, I said that what had disappointed me most was that it was exactly the kind of movie I would make if I had been given a camera and lots of money when I was younger, but seeing it onscreen showed me that my ideas were too woolly and unformed to be committed to celluloid (be grateful I’m just a blogger with a bug up his ass, film fans). Nevertheless, you can tell Kelly has a restless mind, and if he could focus that energy and that imagination into a coherent narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, we might get something truly special. As The Box is based on a classic Richard Matheson short story (“Button, Button”), it seemed like Kelly had learned his lesson and was going to tell a simple but effective SF story with a philosophical dimension.
Sadly, that simple story has been expanded to become another intentional vague and melodramatic conundrum, this time about aliens, the afterlife, and bad 70s wallpaper. As with Matheson’s story, struggling parents Norma and Arthur Lewis (Cameron Diaz and James Marsden) are offered a chance of a lifetime by a mysterious stranger, Arlington Steward (Frank Langella, with a CGI hole in his face). This chance comes in the shape of a box with a red button on it. If pushed, someone they do not know will die, but they will be given one million dollars. Wracked with uncertainty about their future, Norma pushes the button, and instantly they both regret this decision. What happens next is certainly challenging, but ultimately silly, baffling, and emotionally empty, no matter how hard Kelly tries to convince the viewer otherwise.
That said, The Box did give me an insight into Kelly’s filmmaking style. Or should I say, artistic sensibility, as he once called it at the bottom of this article in Variety. There are ten simple rules to making a Richard Kelly movie:
- Make everything in the movie look as ugly as possible. Film in grey and orange exclusively. A complex palette is your enemy.
- Overlight every shot. No shadows. Shadows are for those other film directors who have no artistic sensibility.
- Hipster music is essential. It will either lend flat scenes an energy they don’t deserve (Southland Tales) or will totally overwhelm your visuals (Arcade Fire‘s soundtrack for The Box).
- Direct your female cast members as poorly as possible (see Diaz and Celia Weston in The Box, Mary McDonell in Donnie Darko, and Mandy Moore, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Nora Dunn, and Cheri Oteri in Southland Tales).
- After your first edit, remove five scenes at random to create the illusion of mystery in your story.
- Include visuals about water and bland CGI space-time tunnels or vortices or something. These are your THEMATIC CONSTANTS and are TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS!
- Cast Holmes Osborne in a supporting role. He’s an okay enough actor, but it’s fun to have someone be in all of your movies. Proper directors do things like that.
- Quote clever people like Eliot and Sartre. This is what artists do.
- If David Lynch does it, it’s okay to do it too (e.g. have people standing around staring like zombies, or slowly zoom in on people cackling). That bit in Lost Highway with Robert Morse telling Bill Pullman he is in two places at once? Do a pastiche of that. Lynch won’t mind. He obviously enjoys putting TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS things in his movies for no reason and everyone loves him.
- If you’ve spent more than a couple of weeks editing your movie, you’re doing it wrong. Just slap it together. The audience enjoys puzzling this shit out. Anyone who demands more coherence from their movies is a fraud and an imbecile.
These concerns are mostly surface annoyances with Kelly’s stubborn adherence to a set of stylistic tics. Even a humbling experience like Southland Tales‘ reception couldn’t dissuade him from reusing them. Nevertheless, it’s also worth breaking down the narrative dead-ends, holes, and ambiguous complications in Kelly’s “plot”, as they provide evidence that he has no idea what he is doing. Certainly he squanders that fantastic, thought-provoking central premise: would you press the button even though it would kill a stranger? Matheson certainly uses this starting point to make a wry comment on whether we ever really know anyone, even our loved ones, and Kelly addresses this original ending in a hilarious, poorly written philosophical debate between our protagonists (he also alludes to the alternate ending from the Twilight Zone episode that Matheson disowned).
Of course, Kelly — who has never written a recognisably human character when he can create a thinly-sketched caricature with a wacky name instead — is never going to make a movie that truly ponders that question, not when he can throw in “creepy” shots of mind-controlled humans standing around being “creepy”, or repeatedly cut to a poster of Edwin Austin Abbey’s Quest of the Holy Grail which also features Arthur C. Clarke’s Third Law. That only seems to have been included to allow Kelly to add all sorts of visual splurge with the excuse that hey, it’s alien and advanced so it can look like however I want. He can also add a reference to Purgatory because then he’s making challenging movie about aliens being God and this plane of reality being a form of punishment, or something. Because, you know. Deep.
Yes, Kelly can’t just tell a morality tale. He has to tell a morality tale with added aliens. Again, this is worryingly close to the sort of hare-brained nonsense I sometimes think would make for good drama when drifting off to sleep. As far as can be deduced from Kelly’s maddeningly tortuous plotting, the button is created by an alien intelligence, one that has arrived via lightning to take control of Arlington Steward’s dead body to test the morality of humans by giving them the opportunity to chase instant gratification at the expense of another’s life. As he’s doing this one couple at a time, with a large group of brainwashed minions who gawp and haemorrhage through their noses (a TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS visual image, that), it suggests this alien has the patience of a saint. Why test us? If we fail, we are obviously on a slippery slope to destroying ourselves, and therefore the aliens will annihilate us. Why can’t they just leave us to it, then? It’s hinted that it’s because of our exploration of Mars, but as this is not stated outright, this is mere conjecture.
Norma and Arthur’s decision to press the button sets in motion a series of ill-defined yet terrible events (including the pretentious graffiti shown above) that hint they are being punished for their decision, just as many others have in the past. That’s pleasingly neat, though it does make explicit something the Twilight Zone adaptation only hinted at, to greater effect. However, the initial morality test only really works if you believe pressing the button will kill a person. Norma and Arthur have no reason to believe it does, simply because it’s an empty box given to them by a stranger with half a face, and that belief that the button will do nothing seems to inform Norma’s decision to press the button. What happens next seems awfully cruel considering they did it half-thinking they were the butt of a joke.
The chain of bizarre events that follows lead to a heavily telegraphed finale in which Norma and Arthur’s child Walter is kidnapped, though with one unexpected development: the alien intelligence renders Walter blind and deaf. They are then given another choice. If Arthur shoots Norma in the heart, their child will be cured. If not, he will remain impaired. As Norma suffers from a deformity and what seems to be a fear of disability, the choice is easy to make. Arthur shoots her at the same time another couple presses the button, as happened earlier in the movie. It has the air of being very well thought through, though it’s rich to try to turn the movie back to being about wrenching philosophical quandaries when the middle section of the movie sees Arthur travelling through water-portals and Arlington’s brain-controlled minions stalking Norma or congregating in sinister groups. That are “creepy”.
Any emotional charge that the final scene could have conjured up is dissipated by the nonsensical plot convolutions, untied loose ends, and dreary effects sequences that brought us to that point. As with Russell T. Davies on the recent Torchwood: Children of Earth mini-series, Kelly has come up with what he sees as a fascinating moral quandary (how far would we go to protect our children?), but to get to that point has to mash any plot together. Again, the end result is a plot that resembles a blob of Silly Putty squished in a fist instead of rolled into a nicely linear sausage. Without a sturdy narrative framework to give these characters a believable reason to face this problem, it has zero heft, and the tearful, super-dramatic finale is not earned.
The issue is muddied further as another button is pushed by another woman at the same time Marsden fires. Are we to assume he has no free will? If so, where’s the tragedy? If not, and he fires of his own accord, then the button has nothing to do with the killing, and Arlington is potentially skewing the results of this game so that he can report back to his “employers” that we are doomed, and then justify their plans to destroy us. This is the most interesting idea thrown up by the film, and one that makes me think Kelly is actually onto something. Arlington even seems fond of Norma and Arthur: his final scene is riven with regret. In that case, maybe he has already made his mind up that humans are beyond saving, and Norma and Arthur are unfortunate casualties of this. If that is the case, I like the movie a little more.
However, these moments are less than ambiguous, and more like inconclusive, and this explanation has a whiff of fanwankery. Am I constructing a coherent explanation from clues left by Kelly? Or writing an alternate explanation using supposition and exaggeration from my own misinterpretation of the plot “tea-leaves” Kelly has swirled around the bottom of the teacup that is his movie? I’m all for pondering the meaning of a vague ending, but only when I think the writer or director is using inconclusive plotting to muddy their otherwise clearly expressed intentions. Compare any of Kelly’s endings to one of the truly great unresolved endings ever: John Sayles’ infuriating but brilliant Limbo. That movie has no concrete ending because Sayles is making a point about how real stories and lives have no satisfying ending. It invites speculation from the viewer, but offers no hints. It’s just the mystery of the next moment of our lives rendered in more dramatic — and humbling — style. (See also several open-ended Coen brothers movies.)
Kelly’s endings tend to mean less than nothing. Not “Oh the world has come to nothing and we must bear witness to the pointlessness and randomness of it all”. I mean “there is no ending as I couldn’t think of one. But there are a lot of TERRIBLY MYSTERIOUS things that have already happened, so mix-n-match those until you have something that seems logical. Jane’s Addiction roolz!” We’re not given enough concrete information to make up our minds what is happening, and so we can spin hypothetical explanations until the cows come home. A great way to keep your movies in the minds of your acolytes, but a boring and frustrating experience for those of us who think Kelly is a fraud who would rather namecheck Kurt Vonnegut or Jean-Paul Sartre than finish any of his potentially interesting ideas.
For example, Darko ended with a Christ-like sacrifice from Donnie, but left the reasons for the events unclear, though eventually explained by Kelly as a form of gibberish about Tangent Universes that seem to be describing a movie he made in his head while making an entirely different movie in the real world. Southland Tales ends with the return of Christ being thwarted by a disaffected asshole with a rocket launcher while two alternate versions of Seann William Scott create a portal that will something something. I think the world was doomed. Again, I had to finish the story for Kelly, coming up with my own interpretation. Same with The Box. Arlington’s actions make sense when I make them make sense, but then a bunch of other events make that interpretation false. Perhaps further viewing will make this interpretation clearer.
Nevertheless, this is the kind of faux-intellectualism that appeals to stoners who have read A Brief History of Time and Slaughterhouse 5 and think the universe is looping in on itself so that time is just space turned into a twelfth dimensional gas, man. In a way that could be appealing or forgivable. Gaspar Noé’s Enter The Void (one of my favourite films of the year, and one that has a couple of similarities to the inferior Donnie Darko) is woolly-headed and naive, but it is such a mesmerising and beautifully rendered rush of sound and image that any silliness is forgiven. Kelly doesn’t have the technical skill to pull this kind of thing off, relying instead on dispiriting compositions, eye-scorching overlighting, bombastic music, and indifferent art direction. Imagine Altered States made by the director of a straight-to-DVD sequel to American Pie after he’s eaten a bad batch of ‘shrooms. That’s what this feels like.
Even worse, he doesn’t know what to do with his actors. Diaz gives yet another terrible performance as Norma, overplaying her big scenes, underplaying her quiet ones, and speaking with an accent oozing with so much Southernness I spent much of the movie waiting for her to raise a lace-gloved hand to her forehead and bellow, “Well ah do declayuh!” She’s never been good at doing anything other than be goofy (she was likeable enough in the first Charlie’s Angels movie), but after her unforgivably bad, tension-killing overacting here and in Nick Cassavetes’ disastrous My Sister’s Keeper, hopefully now filmmakers will stop casting her in dramas. Shades of Caruso favourite James Marsden fares better, probably because he’s a much better actor, but every so often a ludicrous, over-written line of dialogue will defeat him. It made me want to rewatch his triumphant turn in Enchanted for the ten millionth time, just to remind me of happier times.
Frank Langella’s impressive work is no surprise: the man is usually the best thing about every movie he is in. Though he is an eerie presence for much of the movie, even he is undone during a scene opposite Diaz in which she proclaims something about how “you wey-uh yo pay-un uh-pon yo fay-uss!”, and Langella’s look of regret is either brilliant acting showing Arlington’s sadness over the effect of his test, or Langella momentarily revealing his horror at Diaz’ continued employment. He is similarly unable to save a terrible, pretentious speech triggered by an NSA agent asking him why the alien morality test involves a box, which sounds like Kelly anticipated some confusion from the more curious members of his audience. Unfortunately his rationale is that we live in boxes, drive in boxes, watch boxes, and end up in boxes, so why not? Langella intones this monstrous wodge of contrivance as if he were playing King Lear, but the outrageous profundity-lite still reduced me to amazed giggles.
It would have been nice for Kelly to pose more questions about his authorial decisions, either to provide more amusement or to actually explain why anything happens in the film. How many people are in on Arlington’s plan and who why? How culpable is the government in this? Are they working with Arlington or against him? Why is it only women who ever seem to press the button? Why is there a rehearsal dinner and wedding in the movie? Is it just to get our characters in large groups where they can be menaced by creepy teenagers who laugh creepily? Why does Arthur travel through a portal in the middle of the movie? How much of this was just mood-setting, and how much necessary to the plot? Why is disability so important to the plot? Etc.
Actually, there is a potential answer to one question that threw me: why does NASA feature so prominently? We know Kelly’s father was a NASA scientist, and the movie is set one year after his birth, so is this somehow autobiographical? I’d be much more interested in it if that were the case, and that would certainly make the movie more than just a mixture of The Quatermass Experiment, The Astronaut’s Wife, and the pulp SF that gets namechecked in a mid-movie segue. For the first time we would see a connection to humanity amidst these dreadfully self-conscious exercises in intentional vagueness and poorly orchestrated atmospherics. The fact that all of these movies feel of a piece with each other, sharing similar motifs and concerns, make me wonder if Kelly is trying to tell a single story and failing no matter which direction he attacks it from.
It’s as if he once had a dream about water and tunnels and time travel and is constantly trying to figure out what it meant by telling different stories. Who knows, perhaps there really is a coherent story being told here about Living Receivers and how water is a Fourth-Dimensional Construct but he has yet to figure out how to make the pieces fit together. It’s this suspicion that brings me back to his movies even though I dislike all three of them. Perhaps one day Kelly will figure out how to tell this one story coherently, or to create some kind of key that makes all of the stories fit together, or just learn to modulate his glaring and annoying lighting scheme or find out that just referencing religious themes is not the same as fleshing out an SF story with a spiritual dimension. Either those revelations or he will get over his weird phobia of water. It’s just liquid, not a portal to the Nth dimension where the Judgemental Dream Aliens live, you crazy son of a bitch.
At that moment I will give him a break, and happily take back every negative thing I have ever said about him. Hard though it may seem after this lengthy rant, but I’m really rooting for him. I want that alternative explanation for Arlington’s test to be true, not just because it would justify spending money on his previous movies, or the countless hours I will inevitably spend pondering his ill-defined ideas, but because it would show Kelly has improved as a storyteller and has managed to hide a jewel of an idea at the centre of a tedious labyrinth. The tragedy is that, after sitting through so much uninspiring and downright exasperating chaff, I cannot believe Kelly has managed to pull off that feat. It’s a crying shame.
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Shades of Caruso Mini-Blog- Listmania ’11! The Best Movies Of The Year December 31, 2011
