tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65729083704606699362024-03-09T14:24:09.508-08:00Loves of a BlondeBrett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-12132751755504529212024-03-09T14:24:00.000-08:002024-03-09T14:24:08.083-08:00The Best Films of 2023<p> The cinematic landscape of 2023 was all about past lives--and I'm not just talking about the movie <i>Past Lives</i>, although its tale of a unique connection between two characters in childhood that reasserts itself in adulthood makes it perfectly emblematic of a year in movies that was all about looking backwards in time to better understand the present. This trend is most clearly evident in the perceptive, relevant historical dramas <i>Oppenheimer</i>, <i>Killers of the Flower Moon</i>, and <i>The Zone of Interest</i>. But practically every genre incorporated this theme in 2023, from baroque fantasy (in <i>Poor Things</i>, Emma Stone's Bella Baxter ultimately had to reckon with who she once was to complete her journey of self-discovery) to the sports movie (the wrestling-world tragedy <i>The Iron Claw</i> is all about what's passed on from one generation to the next), to franchise action films (Keanu Reeves' John Wick and Tom Cruise's Ethan Hunt both attempted to outrun the past in their respective sequels). So in that spirit, let's travel to the very recent past as I celebrate the best films of 2023:</p><p><b>1. <i>Oppenheimer</i> (Christopher Nolan). </b>This staggering portrait of the mastermind behind the atomic bomb (hauntingly played by Cillian Murphy) showcases everything that makes Nolan a top-tier director, including his flair for IMAX-sized spectacle (the Trinity Test is staged with awe-inspiring magnitude and force) and his inventiveness with non-chronological storytelling. Even more impressively, it finds him trying new things and succeeding brilliantly at them, like finding a cinematic analogue for the buzzing visions in Oppenheimer's head and upping his game as a dialogue writer. The torrent of morally and politically probing talk provocatively explores bureaucratic, agenda-driven scapegoating and how Oppenheimer's creation may ultimately be our undoing.</p><p><b>2. <i>Killers of the Flower Moon </i>(Martin Scorsese). </b>Now in his 80s, Scorsese remains a vital, towering American filmmaker who delivers a masterpiece nearly every time out. He does it again here, with a gorgeously cinematic, powerfully corrosive look at how murderous white Americans seduced and killed their way to oil profits belonging to the Osage Nation in 1920s Oklahoma. While it's true that this setting makes the film Scorsese's first Western, it's also, at its core, another of his enveloping, sometimes darkly comic crime epics. There's an allegorically rich complexity in the two-faced strain of American evil represented by Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro's characterizations (both frequent Scorsese collaborators are in top form), while Lily Gladstone, with her singularly expressive eyes and commanding stillness, provides the movie its piercing soul.</p><p><b>3. <i>John Wick: Chapter 4 </i>(Chad Stahelski). </b>The <i>John Wick</i> series has consistently delivered balletic action, minimalist movie-star badassery from Keanu Reeves, and an intoxicatingly baroque visual style from former stuntman Stahelski. It's a sign of what a born filmmaker Stahelski is that when given the biggest budget of the series to date, he's crafted a peak achievement not just for the franchise but for the action genre in general. This is essentially the B-movie equivalent of Leone's <i>The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly</i>--a three-character-centered epic where the jaw-dropping, intricately choreographed action and colorful, maximalist style legitimately merit comparison to Leone's lyricism. As the Lee Van Cleef of the central trio, Donnie Yen gives an instantly iconic performance that deserved much more awards attention.</p><p><b>4. <i>The Holdovers </i>(Alexander Payne). </b>A lot of movies and shows set during the holidays tend to be broad in pushing viewers' emotional buttons, which makes the quietly piercing melancholy of this story of a curmudgeonly prep school teacher (Paul Giamatti), a troubled student (Dominic Sessa), and the school's grieving cook (Da'Vine Joy Randolph) bonding over Christmas break all the more bracing and emotionally potent. And yet, in classic Payne style, this is also a supremely witty comedy. The central trio of actors couldn't be better in balancing the humor and the heartbreak, creating unforgettable characters who will be a joy to revisit every December.</p><p><b>5. <i>All of Us Strangers</i> (Andrew Haigh).</b> There's a profound empathy and insight with which this subtly supernatural love story grapples with emotional extremes--the crushing isolation of loneliness, the euphoric bliss of connecting with someone you're attracted to, the difficulty of letting go of the baggage of the past in order to move forward--that reaffirms Haigh as an extraordinarily perceptive humanist. His precise, expressive filmmaking captures a limbo state between reality and subjective fantasy, while his script is casually wise and lightened with disarming humor. And as a gay screenwriter who seeks closure with the spirits of his long-dead parents, Andrew Scott gives a performance of such remarkable emotional nuance that it should be a crime that he didn't receive a Best Actor Oscar nomination.</p><p><b>6. <i>Poor Things </i>(Yorgos Lanthimos).</b> A warped feminist fairy tale for adults, this one-of-a-kind epic follows the Frankenstein's Monster-like Bella Baxter (Emma Stone, flawlessly charting the maturation and awkward development of someone growing into personhood) as she ventures into the world to discover all of its inequalities and absurdities. Lanthimos' wildly imaginative world-building makes this his most ambitious investigation into what makes human beings tick yet, and he's found an invaluable collaborator in screenwriter Tony McNamara (who previously worked with him on the great <i>The Favourite</i>), who makes every line of dialogue hilariously bawdy and clever.</p><p><b>7. <i>Past Lives</i> (Celine Song). </b>The year's most remarkably assured debut infuses the premise of reuniting with "the one that got away" with a rare depth and delicacy, and it offers an emotionally devastating conclusion guaranteed to linger with fans of romantic movies. Song's compositions symbolically combine signifiers of the modern world with reminders of the eternal natural world, and as a writer, she possesses the richness and humanity to make the third wheel in the romantic triangle (affectingly played by John Magaro) complex and sympathetic in his own right. This is a movie that understands that love is too complicated to be a matter of clear-cut heroes and villains and objectively right or wrong choices.</p><p><b>8. <i>Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One </i>(Christopher McQuarrie). </b>While this isn't the best film in its respective series the way that <i>John Wick: Chapter 4 </i>is--that title still belongs to McQuarrie's insanely rewatchable <i>Mission: Impossible - Fallout</i>--it's still more than great enough to maintain the series' status as the most simultaneously spectacular and sophisticated action franchise around. McQuarrie spins an intricate narrative web focused on the very real, topical threat of artificial intelligence, brings in vivid new characters (Hayley Atwell's cunning and ultimately heroic thief and Esai Morales' dapper villain among them), and stages enjoyably massive action set pieces (the train-set climax is a real humdinger) that demand to be seen on a big screen.</p><p><b>9. <i>The Taste of Things </i>(Tran Anh Hung). </b>With its array of immaculately prepared, delicious-looking meals and desserts, this is naturally grade-A food porn. But it's also immensely rewarding on many other levels. The painterly beauty of Tran's compositions and graceful flow of his camera movements make it as much of a showcase for film art as it is for culinary art. And the effortless chemistry between stars Juliette Binoche and Benoit Magimel provides an essential layer of moving, bewitching, refreshingly grown-up romance. Thematically, the film is as rich as any of the dishes we see onscreen, acting as a testament to the pursuit of that which we love in life, even if they're irreplaceable, ephemeral pleasures.</p><p><b>10. <i>Asteroid City</i> (Wes Anderson). </b>Detractors of Anderson's meticulously controlled, whimsically designed worlds accuse his aggressive style of cutting off authentic feeling. But with this film's ingeniously meta structure and story of a grieving family (with <i>Rushmore</i> collaborator Jason Schwartzman giving one of his most layered performances as the paterfamilias) witnessing an extraterrestrial visitation, Anderson makes an achingly personal, persuasive argument for the power of not just art in general but <i>his</i> divisive art to make sense of the scary unknowns of existence, from death to the possibility that we aren't alone in the universe.</p><p>And because I'm including a rare tie in the #20 spot, here are my next 11 runners-up, instead of the usual 10:</p><p><b>11. <i>Beau Is Afraid</i> (Ari Aster). </b>Because this darkly comic picaresque felt even more bold and audacious on a second viewing, I have a feeling that it'll age beautifully among cinephiles fond of auteurs making big swings. Aster took a risk crafting the most proudly juvenile and neurotic three-hour odyssey ever, but underneath the immaturity is a formally brilliant portrayal of how extreme anxiety makes the craziness of the modern world feel even crazier.</p><p><b>12. <i>The Eight Mountains </i>(Felix van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch). </b>This decades-spanning tale of how the friendship between two men (wonderfully played by Luca Marinelli and Alessandro Borghi) who first met as children and their connection to the Italian Alps, where they first met, evolve over time possesses the vast scope and rich thematic resonance of a big, great novel. But considering how stunningly van Groeningen and Vandermeersch visually capture the mountainous setting, there's ultimately no question what medium this belongs to.</p><p><b>13. <i>BlackBerry</i> (Matthew Johnson).</b> There's been a surprising deluge of cinematic origin stories of corporate products lately, and the clear standout among them is this comedy about the genesis of the early smartphone model. It boasts the sharpest wit and is the most keenly perceptive about the corruption of corporate power. It's a fully satisfying rise-and-fall narrative, whereas its competitors are only interested in the rise. Plus, as a fan of <i>It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia</i>, it's hugely gratifying to see Glenn Howerton give a riveting, squirmingly funny performance as a profane, shark-like investor.</p><p><b>14. <i>The Iron Claw </i>(Sean Durkin). </b>Zac Efron has always possessed charisma and a flair for musical roles, but it wasn't clear how much dramatic range he had until his touchingly soulful performance as Kevin Von Erich, one of four brothers groomed for a wrestling career by a domineering father (the terrific Holt McCallany) in this fact-based weepie. Indie-film veteran Durkin makes a smooth transition into mainstream fare, preserving his moodiness and formal precision while revealing a newfound emotional sincerity that ensures the film earns the viewer's tears.</p><p><b>15. <i>Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves </i>(John Francis Daley & Jonathan Goldstein). </b>It makes a strange sort of sense that Daley & Goldstein would make such a satisfyingly above-expectations adaptation of the enduring role-playing game--they previously directed the pricelessly funny board game-centered comedy <i>Game Night</i>. For this big-scale fantasy, they successfully transferred over <i>Game Night</i>'s key strengths--snappy witticisms, visually fluid action sequences, an ensemble cast where every member is well-used--while upping the level of spectacle and adding a surprising, affecting amount of heart.</p><p><b>16. <i>The Zone of Interest </i>(Jonathan Glazer).</b> It's typical of art films to use a static extreme wide shot to create a sense of detachment. What Glazer, who doesn't work often enough but always pushes the envelope cinematically when he does, brilliantly does here is craft a movie made up of those kind of shots that's also <i>about</i> detachment on a deep, chilling level. The images reflect the eerie compartmentalization of a family living right next door to Auschwitz during Hitler's reign, while the haunting, precise sound design captures the horrors that they choose to ignore.</p><p><b>17. <i>Infinity Pool</i> (Brandon Cronenberg). </b>I love that Cronenberg is just as much of a sick puppy as filmmaker father David, and it's impressive that he's managed to forge his own artistic identity distinct from his old man's. While David's work is defined by a detached, surgical precision, Brandon's style is lush and dreamy in a Refn-esque way. <i>Infinity Pool</i> is a nightmarish trip that offers a scathing allegory on how they wealthy manage to evade accountability for their crimes, and Cronenberg gets career-best work from Alexander Skarsgaard and an unforgettably unhinged Mia Goth.</p><p><b>18. <i>American Fiction</i> (Cord Jefferson). </b>As a satire of the narratives of Black lives that the marketplace typically responds to, Jefferson's auspicious debut is razor-sharp, full of dialogue that's simultaneously literate and laugh-out-loud funny. And as a family drama, it's heartfelt and remarkably lived-in, boosted by great performances from Jeffrey Wright and Sterling K. Brown. In conjoining these two strands, Jefferson has crafted a comedy whose bite is nicely balanced with a palpable warmth.</p><p><b>19. <i>Showing Up </i>(Kelly Reichardt). </b>There's a gentle, leisurely sense of observation to Reichardt's films that always make them a pleasure to sink into, and with this newest work about a Portland-based sculptor (Michelle Williams, who is always at her most gracefully subtle when collaborating with Reichardt), the filmmaker provides a revealing window into the creation of art--and how life tends to both get in the way of it and inform it in ineffable ways. Even the flakiest, most pretentious members of the Portland art scene we meet here are embraced by Reichardt with open-hearted generosity.</p><p><b>20. TIE: <i>The Convenant </i>(Guy Ritchie) </b>and <b><i>Operation Fortune: Ruse De Guerre </i>(Guy Ritchie). </b>These two films couldn't be more tonally different--<i>The Covenant</i> is a solemnly gripping war drama about the bonds formed in combat, while <i>Operation Fortune</i> is a breezy, comedic spy caper--but they both find British veteran Ritchie working at the top of his game. The impeccable craft behind this duo include two great, enveloping scores from composer Christopher Benstead, so he's one collaborator that Ritchie definitely needs to keep on his Rolodex.</p><p>And here are 14 more standouts from the year in movies:</p><p><b>21. <i>Still: A Michael J. Fox Story </i>(Davis Guggenheim).</b></p><p><b>22. <i>Godzilla Minus One </i>(Takashi Yamazaki).</b></p><p><b>23. <i>Perfect Days </i>(Wim Wenders).</b></p><p><b>24. <i>The Promised Land </i>(Nikolaj Arcel).</b></p><p><b>25. <i>Monster </i>(Hirokazu Kore-eda).</b></p><p><b>26. <i>Anatomy of a Fall </i>(Justine Triet).</b></p><p><b>27. <i>Anselm </i>(Wim Wenders).</b></p><p><b>28. <i>About Dry Grasses </i>(Nuri Bilge Ceylan).</b></p><p><b>29. <i>The Teachers' Lounge </i>(Ilker Catak).</b></p><p><b>30. <i>Jawan </i>(Atlee).</b></p><p><b>31. <i>Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret </i>(Kelly Fremon Craig).</b></p><p><b>32. <i>Godland </i>(Hlynur Palmason).</b></p><p><b>33. <i>De Humani Corporis Fabrica </i>(Verena Paravel & Lucien Castaing-Taylor).</b></p><p><b>34. <i>Magic Mike's Last Dance </i>(Steven Soderbergh).</b></p><p>As Yet Unseen: <i>Robot Dreams</i>, <i>La Chimera</i>, <i>Falcon Lake</i>, <i>Skinamarink</i>, <i>Menus-Plaisirs - Les Troisgros</i>, the four Best Documentary Oscar nominees other than <i>The Eternal Memory</i></p>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-14248408516227555652023-03-12T12:34:00.000-07:002023-03-12T12:34:22.506-07:00The Best Films of 2022<p> Considering the threat that streaming and the inability to shake COVID-era habits have posed to the survival of the theatrical experience, it makes sense that movies in general have retaliated by going so ridiculously big that they demand to be seen on the most giant screen possible. Extravagant maximalism has been the dominant approach of this past year's films, exemplified by the Best Picture Oscar frontrunner and word-of-mouth box-office smash <i>Everything Everywhere All at Once</i>, which is true to its title in its multiverse-spanning size and scope. Every kind of movie imaginable reached for formidable grandeur, from sequels (<i>Top Gun: Maverick</i>) to biopics (<i>Elvis</i>), extending even to documentaries (the shot-for-IMAX <i>Moonage Daydream</i>). James Cameron demonstrated how massive he can go when given 13 years to perfect 3D-rendered spectacle with <i>Avatar: The Way of Water</i>, while Indian filmmaker S.S. Rajamouli emerged as a thrilling new voice in mammoth-scale action cinema with <i>RRR</i>.</p><p>But of course, even in a year defined by eye-popping and screen-filling hugeness, it's worth noting that bigger doesn't always mean better. After all, the best film of 2022 is focused on merely two feuding friends living on an Irish island so tiny that it feels like a land time forgot.</p><p><b>1. <i>The Banshees of Inisherin </i>(Martin McDonagh). </b>The escalating tragedies that ensue when Colm (Brendan Gleeson) forcefully cuts off ties with regular drinking buddy Padraic (Colin Farrell, both pricelessly funny and heartbreaking in a career-best turn) resonate with themes of mortality, the things we value most in life, and the pigheaded stubbornness of war. McDonagh, who's four-for-four in his filmmaking career, masterfully balances the piercing melancholy with hilarious, precisely structured verbal wit that shines even more on a second viewing. He also suffuses the film with a dark enchantment that makes it feel like a folk tale sure to endure for centuries.</p><p><b>2. <i>Aftersun </i>(Charlotte Wells). </b>Delivering what feels like an instant classic with her feature debut, Wells digs into the knotty complexity of being an adult looking back at one's childhood and reckoning with who your parents really were and what they were going through in those formative years. The beautifully fluid editing glides between past and present with a poetic sense of how memory works, while the central father/daughter relationship (played with warmth and authenticity by Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio) is captured with powerfully moving intimacy. With how this movie uses Freddie Mercury and David Bowie's "Under Pressure," it may no longer be possible to hear that song without instantly tearing up.</p><p><b>3. <i>Everything Everywhere All at Once </i>(Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert).</b> There's a wild, exhilarating imagination to how the directing duo known as Daniels situate the story of a dissatisfied laundromat owner (Michelle Yeoh, stunning in a role that showcases her gift for emotional depth while not skimping on her action hero chops either) who finds herself traveling through the multiverse within dozens of different scenarios, genres, and visual forms. But perhaps even more impressive is how they anchor it with a profound, moving human story of learning to embrace the universe you occupy and the people you surround yourself with. In a triumphant comeback performance as Evelyn's husband, Ke Huy Quan exudes pure decency--and gets to kick ass too!</p><p><b>4. <i>Moonage Daydream </i>(Brett Morgen). </b>The singularly innovative rock icon David Bowie is honored with a documentary that miraculously manages to be as bold and form-busting as he is, courtesy of master non-fiction impressionist Morgen. Assembled as a dazzling collage of live concert footage, film clips, and psychedelic space oddities, this offers a visual and sonic experience like no other. And in the interview snippets we hear of Bowie analyzing his shape-shifting methods and admitting to artistic insecurities, the legend comes to life as both more human and even more of a mind-bending genius than he already seemed to be.</p><p><b>5. <i>Avatar: The Way of Water</i> (James Cameron). </b>While the first <i>Avatar</i> stands as a unique achievement that introduced us to the planet of Pandora and to Cameron's pioneering use of 3D, this sequel manages to impress in its own distinct way, as perhaps the most lightning-paced three-hour epic ever, as well as a powerfully sincere hymn to the importance of family and of preserving nature. Cameron again manages to show us something truly new with the reach-out-and-touch-it vividness of his 3D underwater sequences, while the spectacularly executed, hour-long climax reaffirms him as a peerless director of action.</p><p><b>6. <i>RRR</i> (S.S. Rajamouli). </b>It's a nifty coincidence to follow up one jaw-dropping, three-hour action epic on the list with another, though the ways in which <i>RRR </i>is different from Cameron's film marks Rajamouli as a genre artist with his own vital identity. There's a bit of George Miller and John Woo to the flamboyant delirium of his style, but also an infectious joyousness (exemplified by the spirited musical number that deploys Oscar-nominated song "Naatu Naatu") that's all his own. The warm buddy bond and vicious anti-colonial critique at the story's center ensure that the story is just as rousing as the ingenious action set pieces.</p><p><b>7. <i>Benediction</i> (Terence Davies). </b>This indelibly haunting portrait of British poet Siegfried Sassoon (played as a young man by Jack Lowden, in the year's most undervalued lead performance, and in old age by Peter Capaldi), who goes from a traumatized World War I veteran using his art to object to the war's architects to a playboy within England's covert circle of gay artists to a tormented Catholic married to a woman, is so inventively shaped by Davies and alert to sad human truths that it transcends the biopic form. Davies' dialogue is addictively witty and sharp, while his charting of Sassoon's futile search for contentment is ultimately devastating.</p><p><b>8. <i>Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery</i> (Rian Johnson). </b>Daniel Craig's second outing as idiosyncratic, Southern-accented detective Benoit Blanc manages to improve on its predecessor by being both a more satisfyingly ensemble-cast-focused whodunnit (Janelle Monae is the acting MVP, in a shrewdly multi-faceted performance that was robbed of a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination) and a far more deviously twisty and dense feat of narrative engineering. Johnson's ingenious conceit is to make the story itself resemble a glass onion, revealing more to the viewer's eye with every new layer.</p><p><b>9. <i>Bones and All </i>(Luca Guadagnino).</b> It takes a lot of guts to make a cannibal romance, but in the end, it's much more the heart that Guadagnino brings to this simultaneously bloody and swoon-inducing road movie that proves definitive. The self-identified "eaters" of his film are marginalized outcasts traveling an evocatively desolate stretch of middle America in an existence of melancholy loneliness, which makes it all the more cathartic when the two lost souls at the center of the story (Timothee Chalamet, as magnetically vulnerable as ever, and Taylor Russell, whose emotional directness allows her to steal the movie from her better known co-lead) cut (bite?) through each other's defenses and form a real connection.</p><p><b>10. <i>Triangle of Sadness </i>(Ruben Ostlund).</b> As ruthlessly precise as he is playfully provocative, Ostlund confidently unfurls a savage class satire that plays out in meticulously deadpan compositions and a clever variation on the classic three-act narrative structure. While the third act may be the most incisive when it comes to the sad impossibility of shaping a utopian society without a strict hierarchy, it's the second act that delivers the biggest comic wallop: an utterly hilarious all-timer of a gross-out sequence focused on a storm-tossed captain's dinner on a luxury yacht that's downright Tati-esque in its Swiss-watch-timed physical comedy.</p><p>And here are the next ten runners-up:</p><p><b>11. <i>Nope</i> (Jordan Peele). </b>While <i>Get Out </i>and <i>Us </i>firmly established Peele as a filmmaker naturally attuned to both popcorn movie pleasures and brain-tickling subtext, this represents his most spectacular and thought-provoking filmmaking achievement yet for me. He brings a legitimately Spielbergian sense of wonder and terror to the film's big-scale alien invasion sequences, while also interrogating the very nature of spectacle itself--how we culturally process it, who benefits from it, and who is sometimes exploited for the sake of it (with a certain chimp unforgettably symbolizing the dangers of that exploitation).</p><p><b>12. <i>Jackass Forever</i> (Jeff Tremaine). </b>Sure, some may ask: is this too high a ranking for such a proudly juvenile blast of comic anarchy? Honestly, though, if I were judging solely on the criterion of what provided the most sublime big-screen experience of the year, this would place even higher. I haven't laughed as loudly or consistently at a comedy in the post-vaccine era as I did at this, and not only is it the most unrelenting attack on the funny bone of the four-film series, but due to how close these daredevils are coming to an age where they can't put their bodies on the line, it's also the most poignant.</p><p><b>13. <i>EO </i>(Jerzy Skolimowski).</b> Naturally, it's easy to fall in love with any movie featuring a big-eared, fuzzy-faced donkey as the lead character. But it's how imaginative and stylistically adventurous this particular film is in executing its "cute animal on a road trip" setup that makes it special. Skolimowski distills the premise down to its pure cinema essence, enveloping the viewer in striking, trippy imagery and music. In the process, he demonstrates how an octogenarian veteran auteur can shake up the medium with an experimental vigor that puts younger renegades to shame.</p><p><b>14. <i>Top Gun: Maverick </i>(Joseph Kosinski).</b> The awesome geographical scope and whooshing velocity of the aerial action combined with Tom Cruise's ageless star power make it clear why this attracted people back to movie theaters in droves. In addition to those considerable virtues, this above-expectations sequel possesses a mind and a heart that not all blockbusters (including the pretty-good-at-best first <i>Top Gun</i>) can lay claim to. In its most moving scene, a reunion between Cruise's Maverick and Val Kilmer's Iceman, it makes a case for revisiting and reckoning with the past that goes beyond one-dimensional nostalgia.</p><p><b>15. <i>Armageddon Time </i>(James Gray). </b>Speaking of reckonings with the past that reject nostalgia, this stood apart from other recent auteur autobiographies (*cough* Spielberg's <i>The Fabelmans</i> *cough*) in being remarkably clear-eyed and tough-minded about the period in which its maker grew up. Without sacrificing his signature, textured classicism, Gray strikes a resonant modern chord in examining the bubble of white privilege that protected him during a childhood spent in 1980s New York City. As his grandfather, the formidable Anthony Hopkins is as staggering as he's ever been.</p><p><b>16. <i>Elvis</i> (Baz Luhrmann). </b>It's easy to be cynical about rock star biopics--the undeserved success of <i>Bohemian Rhapsody</i> proves how formula can easily reign supreme--but then one comes around to invigoratingly shake up the form like Luhrmann's eye-popping, kinetic, inventive portrait of Elvis Presley (played by Austin Butler in a revelatory, soulful star turn). And in pitting the performer's countercultural, sexually liberated, Black-pioneer-honoring artistry against the conservative, capitalist maneuverings of Col. Parker (Tom Hanks), Luhrmann shows how Elvis' story is ultimately America's story too.</p><p><b>17. <i>Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood</i> (Richard Linklater). </b>It's outrageous that the year's best animated movie by far didn't even score a nomination in the Best Animated Feature Oscar category! Linklater has experimented with rotoscope animation before with dreamlike mind-benders <i>Waking Life</i> and <i>A Scanner Darkly</i>, but here, in marrying that visual approach to the kind of disarmingly specific portrait of life in suburban Texas that he usually renders in live action (<i>Dazed and Confused</i>, <i>Boyhood</i>), he proves that he can be as precise a filmmaker as he is a disarmingly laid-back one.</p><p><b>18. <i>Fire of Love</i> (Sara Dosa). </b>This offers all the visually stunning natural wonders that you'd want from a volcano-focused documentary bearing the National Geographic Films label, while also being more uniquely heartfelt and surreal to boot. Dosa captures how beautiful and how scary lava-spewing mountains can be with beautiful abstraction, while positioning the story of married volcanologists Katia and Maurice Krafft as a metaphor for how a couple's shared passion can be so powerful as to risk the lovers' very lives.</p><p><b>19. <i>Babylon</i> (Damien Chazelle). </b>Admittedly, it's easy to see why this poison-tipped valentine to the late silent-film era of 1920s Hollywood earned hordes of detractors, with its hard-R-rated focus on debauched excess and plentiful bodily fluids. However, underneath that focus is a rich consideration of the wide chasm between the magic of the movies and the flawed, fragile mortality of the people committed to making them. Plus, with its lavish period trappings, dazzling camerawork, and energetic editing perfectly matched to Justin Hurwitz's earworm of a score, it manages to summon real movie magic of its own.</p><p><b>20. <i>All the Beauty and the Bloodshed </i>(Laura Poitras). </b>Adopting an ingenious, bifurcated structure highlighting both the artistry and the political activism of acclaimed photographer Nan Goldin, Poitras illustrates how those two strands of Goldin's life are inextricably intertwined. Even more impressive, the film emerges as an ambitious documentary epic charting how those who are marginalized and, in some tragic cases, left to die to serve America's conservative, corporate interests continue to fight for their right to exist.</p><p>And here are 11 more movie highlights from 2022:</p><p><b>21. <i>A Love Song</i> (Max Walker-Silverman).</b></p><p><b>22. <i>Official Competition</i> (Gaston Duprat and Mariano Cohn).</b></p><p><b>23. <i>Resurrection </i>(Andrew Semans).</b></p><p><b>24. <i>TAR </i>(Todd Field).</b></p><p><b>25. <i>Speak No Evil</i> (Christian Tafdrup).</b></p><p><b>26. <i>Vortex </i>(Gaspar Noe).</b></p><p><b>27. <i>The Batman </i>(Matt Reeves).</b></p><p><b>28. <i>X </i>(Ti West).</b></p><p><b>29. <i>Cow </i>(Andrea Arnold).</b></p><p><b>30. <i>The Menu</i> (Mark Mylod).</b></p><p><b>31. <i>Apples</i> (Christos Nikou).</b></p><p>Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work: <b><i>The Survivor</i> (Barry Levinson). </b>This powerful chronicle of how boxer Harry Haft (Ben Foster, in a physically and emotionally committed tour de force) made it out of WWII concentration camps using his pugilistic talents bypassed theaters and went straight to HBO, where I wish more people caught it. Levinson has long been criminally underrated, and this reaffirms his gift for bringing authentic humanity and vibrant cinematic craft to fact-based stories.</p><p>As Yet Unseen: <i>The Eternal Daughter</i>, <i>We're All Going to the World's Fair</i>, <i>Lost Illusions</i>, <i>Navalny</i>, <i>Descendant</i>.</p>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-72098644655993439112022-03-26T14:44:00.000-07:002022-03-26T14:44:54.266-07:00The Best Films of 2021<p> It's gratifying to be writing about the best films of a year in which we all got to return to multiplexes and art house theaters after a punishingly long period of dealing with their COVID-dictated absence. Seeing movies as they were meant to be presented, on the big screen, outweighed the anxiety of being around large clusters of people after extended isolation, at least for me. Considering this context, it's striking how many of the year's best films focus on unexpected bonds that reflect the tug-of-war between wanting to connect with other people and being too vulnerable to do so seamlessly. Whether these movies centered on a damaged killer rushing into the shelter offered by a fireman with a long-missing son, a grieving actor/director who's at his most serene behind the wheel adjusting to having a job-mandated driver, or a pair of new mothers who didn't plan on their lives intersecting beyond time shared in the maternity ward, they have in common an interest in relationships that begin with fear and hesitancy before blossoming into something more positive. Keeping that trajectory in mind to stay optimistic during still-very-insane times, here's my list of the best films of 2021:</p><p><b>1. <i>Titane </i>(Julia Ducournau). </b>Pushing the body horror envelope even further than Ducournau's great, auspicious debut <i>Raw</i>, this uncommonly audacious follow-up finds imaginative new ways to shock the viewer with all sorts of fluids and flesh trauma. But what's most bracing about the film, which is crafted by Ducournau with intoxicating cinematic showmanship, is how tender, moving, and boldly progressive it is underneath the startling surface. In the closeness that a gender-bending fugitive (Agathe Rousselle, utterly fearless) and a loss-ravaged fireman (Vincent Lindon, in a performance of sublime gentle giant vulnerability) begin feeling towards each other, we're given a portrait of the fluidity of humanity and love that's much needed in these intolerant times.</p><p><b>2. <i>Drive My Car</i> (Ryusuke Hamaguchi).</b> There's the risk of hyperbole in deeming a movie as truly nourishing for the soul, but this profoundly moving examination of grief, regret, art, communication, and the essential friendships that sustain us really is that rewardingly cathartic. Right from the post-coital monologue that opens the film, Hamaguchi demonstrates a patience, a flair for language and low-key atmosphere, and a wisdom about what goes unsaid in the lives of normally expressive artists that hooks you into the quietly momentous journey of stage actor/director Kafuku, played by Hidetoshi Nishijima with a heartbreaking, barely contained air of stoicism.</p><p><b>3. <i>West Side Story </i>(Steven Spielberg). </b>Witnessing Spielberg apply his peerless camera and compositional sense to a big-scale movie musical results in a euphoric rush unequaled by any of this year's other big-budget spectacles. And beyond the sheer dazzle of its formal brilliance and dance choreography, the film also nails the tragedy of the doomed, cross-cultural romance at the center of Sondheim and Bernstein's musical, with writer Tony Kushner's typically eloquent and politically relevant script being indispensable in that regard. Ariana DeBose, infusing the role of Anita with fiery confidence and emotion, and Mike Faist, bringing simultaneous wiseguy attitude and affecting frailty to Riff, are stars in the making.</p><p><b>4. <i>Licorice Pizza </i>(Paul Thomas Anderson).</b> There's such an invitingly loose and shaggy flow to Anderson's singular coming-of-age portrait that it would be all too easy to undervalue its ambition. In marrying the sprawling Valley epic frame of early work like <i>Boogie Nights</i> with the intimate, thorny two-hander power dynamic of a recent effort like <i>Phantom Thread</i>, Anderson thoughtfully juxtaposes the struggles of two youngsters figuring themselves out (Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman, both remarkably nuanced for acting neophytes) with the eccentric soul of a California region defined by its missed-it-by-that-much closeness to the center of fame and success.</p><p><b>5. <i>Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)</i> (Amir "Questlove" Thompson).</b> The year's most electrifying directorial debut came from The Roots drummer and <i>The Tonight Show</i> bandleader Questlove, who unearthed long-shelved footage of the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival concerts and has fashioned it into a gorgeously mosaic-like documentary that magically combines you-are-there experiential purity with a journalistic density of historical context. The free-form editing and a sound design that ensures the live music is always there, even when relegated to a secondary track, are instrumental to achieving that balance. While Stevie Wonder, Sly & The Family Stone, B.B. King, The Chambers Brothers, and a piano-banging Nina Simone all deliver in grand style, the highlight may be The 5th Dimension's rousing, soulful hybridizing of two tracks from the <i>Hair</i> soundtrack.</p><p><b>6. <i>The Worst Person in the World</i> (Joachim Trier). </b>There's such a clear-eyed sense in Renate Reinsve's performance as rudderless Julie--which deservedly nabbed Best Actress honors at the Cannes Film Festival and would receive Academy recognition in a just world--of how someone inching from twentysomething to thirtysomething status can be simultaneously so intellectually mature and emotionally insecure as to render the title's bittersweet intent immediately apparent. That's also a testament to Trier's ever-growing gifts as a writer of literate wit (aided by longtime co-writer Eskil Vogt) and a filmmaker of blazing inventiveness and kineticism.</p><p><b>7. <i>The Green Knight</i> (David Lowery) </b>There's such a chameleonic versatility to Lowery's body of work, which encompasses the most sincere, distinctive Disney live action remake to date (<i>Pete's Dragon</i>) and a '70s-style Robert Redford bank robber yarn (<i>The Old Man & the Gun</i>), yet his singular voice unites them all. With <i>The Green Knight</i>, he's made a medieval fantasy like no other--majestic, forbidding, psychedelic, and utterly hypnotic. As cocky, immature Sir Gawain (Dev Patel, given his best showcase since <i>Slumdog Millionaire</i>) approaches his potentially fatal duel with the title character, classical themes of honor and mortality are richly explored while the movie's stunning imagery and enveloping rhythm keep surprising you.</p><p><b>8. <i>Pig</i> (Michael Sarnoski).</b> When you hear the pitch "Nicolas Cage is on a quest to rescue his beloved truffle pig," you automatically assume you're in for a ludicrous B-movie. But <i>Pig</i>, crafted by debuting director Sarnoski with surprising gentleness and a vivid sense of place, isn't that movie; instead, it's a culinary noir that burrows into the Portland foodie scene and a genuinely melancholy reflection on the ineffable things that give our lives meaning and purpose. As for Cage, his masterful performance as reclusive former chef Robin Feld is a reminder that his intense soulfulness and eye for idiosyncratic detail make him a major, singular acting talent.</p><p><b>9. <i>Parallel Mothers</i> (Pedro Almodovar).</b> No one these days makes melodramas as deeply felt and vibrantly cinematic as Almodovar does, a tradition that continues with this ambitious, richly layered allegory that reckons with the reverberations of the Spanish Civil War while spinning a contemporary tale of two new mothers (Penelope Cruz and Milena Smit). The dual narrative tracks connect to powerfully ponder if reaching an ideal future is possible when we don't acknowledge the deceit of the past. Frequent collaborator Cruz turns in some of her best, most fiercely emotional work as a woman caught in that very dilemma.</p><p><b>10. <i>Annette </i>(Leos Carax).</b> A madly inspired work of art that takes audacious risks at every turn, this acid-tinged musical with songs penned by maverick duo Sparks gazes into the abyss of the artistic ego at its most turbulent and toxic, and considers whether such a personality is fit for fatherhood. Oh, and the central child character happens to be a puppet. That's not the only daring conceit on display, and Carax's commitment to wild cinematic beauty ensures that the chances the film takes pay off wondrously. As monstrous if human stand-up comedian Henry McHenry, Adam Driver delivers a performance that packs the bracing unpredictability of a daredevil working without a safety net.</p><p>And here are the next 10 runners-up:</p><p><b>11. <i>Copshop</i> (Joe Carnahan).</b> I'm always a sucker for B-movies executed at an A-level--hell, another one is right below this at #12--and none this year matched the genre-savvy craft and sheer fun of this largely single-setting triumph. It combines a Carpenter-esque compositional cleanliness with pulpy, hilarious dialogue that's like Tarantino or Zahler language distilled down to its pungent attitudinal essence and plenty of cat-&-mouse action and tension. The central quartet of actors deliver with enjoyable gusto, and Carnahan hasn't operated at this high a level since <i>The Grey</i>, which made my best-of-2011 list.</p><p><b>12. <i>Nobody</i> (Ilya Naishuller).</b> Since this retains some key crew members from the irresistible <i>John Wick</i> series, including writer Derek Kolstad, it's no surprise that it boasts an iconic lead character and several dazzlingly choreographed, expertly edited action sequences (a fight on a public bus ranks as one of the year's best individual scenes). What is surprising, as well as deliciously entertaining, is that the iconic action lead is played by comic genius and <i>Better Call Saul</i> star Bob Odenkirk, who reveals a steely badass side that few could've guessed he possessed.</p><p><b>13. <i>A Hero </i>(Asghar Farhadi).</b> There's something special and unique about how Farhadi can take seemingly mundane domestic and systemic conflicts and spin them into moral thrillers so dizzyingly complex and viscerally gripping that they make you want to shout at the screen to the doomed characters. With <i>A Hero</i>, he charts the rise and fall of sympathetic fuck-up Rahim (Amir Jadidi, impressively capable of going from pitiable to frighteningly temperamental) without letting him entirely off the hook, but also with a compassionate grasp on how ass-covering institutions, including social media lynch mobs, prey upon the vulnerability of individuals like him.</p><p><b>14. <i>No Time to Die </i>(Cary Joji Fukunaga).</b> I make no apologies for being something of a James Bond fanboy, though less of one than when I was as a teenager, but even looking beyond that subjective bias, this still registers as an immensely satisfying send-off for Daniel Craig's singular embodiment of the special agent character. Fukunaga executes the globe-hopping action with fluid grace (the Cuba set piece involving a spirited Ana de Armas as a resourceful rookie agent is especially spectacular), while script doctor Phoebe Waller provides a character depth that honors the humanity of Craig's take on the tux-clad hero.</p><p><b>15. <i>The French Dispatch</i> (Wes Anderson). </b>Even if this anthology-style tribute to The New Yorker and its endangered journalistic ilk falls a bit short of the masterpiece level of peak Anderson achievements like <i>The Royal Tenenbaums</i> and <i>The Grand Budapest Hotel</i>, the writer-director still delivers so many densely packed, impeccably framed images and so much verbal wit that repeat viewings are a sheer pleasure and arguably necessary. Benicio Del Toro, as a feral convict, and Jeffrey Wright, flawlessly playing a James Baldwin stand-in, are excellent new additions to Anderson's usual band of repertory players.</p><p><b>16. <i>Riders of Justice </i>(Anders Thomas Jensen). </b>While this offers some of the visceral satisfactions that you'd expect from a conventional revenge thriller, what makes it so original and thought-provoking is how it slyly subverts the genre by positioning the thirst for revenge as a form of imposing order on the chaotic uncertainty of the universe. Fusing buddy comedy and an affecting portrait of family along with its metaphysical inquiries and bursts of action, it emerges as a singular hybrid overseen by Jensen with deft tonal precision. </p><p><b>17. <i>The Power of the Dog</i> (Jane Campion).</b> Beautifully crafted by Campion with her signature darkness-tinged lyricism and driven by a committed, dagger-eyed lead performance by Benedict Cumberbatch, this modernist Western pulls off the impressive trick of making you realize that you've been watching a different movie than you initially thought in its final minutes. In an age where rampant streaming availability can dull cultural discussions of movies, the "Wait, did you get that ending?" water cooler chatter around this one proved that the new release model can still spur wide, thoughtful discourse.</p><p><b>18. <i>The Mitchells vs. the Machines</i> (Michael Rianda & Jeff Rowe).</b> The year's best and most wildly entertaining animated movie imaginatively envisions a robot apocalypse for the smartphone era, sending a family that's wonderfully specific in its everyday dysfunction on a big-scale adventure full of thrilling set pieces and clever offhand wit (I love the robots assessing the family pug to be a loaf of bread). On top of all that, there's also a moving conclusion that admittedly got me pretty misty-eyed.</p><p><b>19. <i>Dune</i> (Denis Villeneuve). </b>As much as I love David Lynch, his <i>Dune </i>adaptation--which even he's reportedly not a fan of--feels overly Cliff's Notes-y in its rushed momentum. Allowing the material to breathe more by tackling only the first half of Frank Herbert's novel, Villeneuve rewardingly allows the immersively detailed world-building and allegorical richness to really sink in. Also, working with gifted DP Greig Fraser, the filmmaker offers one stunningly immense composition after another, making this an ideal fit for IMAX screens.</p><p><b>20. <i>Spider-Man: No Way Home</i> (Jon Watts). </b>It's nice when the year's highest-grossing movie also happens to be grandly fulfilling entertainment with a big, sincere heart at its core. This standout within the long-running MCU franchise also boasts plenty of rousing action and sly humor. The talented, ridiculously stacked ensemble cast contains some names that would require a spoiler warning if listed, and this is one case where that kind of surprise-laden fan service doesn't feel overly calculated and is instead executed with flair, wit, and soul.</p><p>And here are 10 more cinematic highlights from the past year:</p><p><b>21. <i>Boiling Point </i>(Philip Barantini).</b></p><p><b>22. <i>The Velvet Underground</i> (Todd Haynes).</b></p><p><b>23. <i>King Richard </i>(Reinaldo Marcus Green).</b></p><p><b>24. <i>Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy </i>(Ryusuke Hamguchi).</b></p><p><b>25. <i>The Disciple</i> (Chaitanya Tamhane).</b></p><p><b>26. <i>The Card Counter </i>(Paul Schrader).</b></p><p><b>27. <i>Benedetta </i>(Paul Verhoeven).</b></p><p><b>28. <i>Cruella</i> (Craig Gillespie).</b></p><p><b>29. <i>Moffie</i> (Oliver Hermanus).</b></p><p><b>30. <i>The Suicide Squad</i> (James Gunn).</b></p>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-27891017389533923692021-04-24T15:28:00.000-07:002021-04-24T15:28:57.449-07:00The Best Films of 2020<p> To say that this was a movie year like no other is a massive understatement. When the COVID-19 pandemic forced movie theaters to shut down in mid-March, it led to a feeling of fear and hopelessness among habitual moviegoers like myself. Studios intent on waiting for the profits that come from theatrical exhibition immediately announced release date delays instead of offering home viewing options for film fans stuck in quarantine, causing despairing questions to arise: Will there be any new releases to dig into while we're all stuck at home? Since I always get into making my best-of-year list and even all the Oscars madness once the year's wrapped up, will there ultimately be enough titles released in 2020 for those occasions to still take place? And will I die of COVID before getting the chance to see Christopher Nolan's crazy-looking new movie?!?</p><p>If you're reading this, you know that I'm very much alive--and I've seen <i>Tenet</i> twice now! Also, thankfully, indie distributors and even a couple major studios eventually became more generous in delivering new films to quarantined consumers once it became clear that the pandemic was going to last a <i>really</i> long time. The Academy also saw fit to adjust its rules, granting eligibility to films that premiered via streaming as long as they had documented initial plans to play in theaters, and extending the window of eligibility to the end of February 2021. In that spirit, for this list, I'm also counting January and February 2021 releases as 2020 films. Sure, it feels a little strange considering a 14-month-long period as a year and writing this a couple months later than I usually do, but it's easy enough to adjust to. Besides, the extra two months allowed me to catch up with a healthy amount of 2020's releases--I've seen just over 160 of them!</p><p>What's much harder to adjust to is the blurring of lines of what's considered cinema and what's considered TV in this era where movies have only been watched on TV out of necessity. I'll get into that more in some of the more medium-ambiguous choices on my list below, but I might as well say right away that the five films that brilliant British director Steve McQueen made to be released on Amazon as anthology series <i>Small Axe</i> most definitely register as cinema in my mind. Plus, it's always fun to celebrate when a filmmaker at the top of his/her game makes more than one standout movie within a year; McQueen appears on my best-of-year list four times (and it's not like the <i>Small Axe</i> film I didn't include is chopped liver!), while Spike Lee makes two appearances, including one at the very top of my list of the best films of the year:</p><p><b>1. <i>Da 5 Bloods</i> (Spike Lee).</b> At this point, Lee's command of the medium is so assured that he can organically combine classical and postmodern storytelling modes into one gloriously cinematic package. This is a big-canvas, visually transporting war-movie epic that incorporates a <i>The Treasure of the Sierra Madre</i>-influenced treasure hunt and elegantly arranges its five central characters in numerous immaculately blocked and framed classical compositions. But it's also thrillingly abstract in its archival montages, aspect ratio alterations, and jazzy sense of experimentation. Delroy Lindo gives the performance of the year as the PTSD-plagued loose cannon of the central veterans, and Lee vitally and provocatively explores how the Vietnam War represented yet another case of America sacrificing Black lives for its own interests.</p><p><b>2. <i>Lovers Rock</i> (Steve McQueen).</b> The best of McQueen's <i>Small Axe</i> films is an immersive musical like no other that's ever been made. McQueen invites the viewer to a house party in an '80s London Black immigrant neighborhood, and he nails the vibe and the awe-inspiring choreography of the camera and the actors' moving bodies so thoroughly that you feel that you're on the dance floor yourself, soaking up the tangible sweat and hormones. When the partygoers partake in a singalong to "Silly Games," what transpires is a sequence of uncanny communal catharsis that literally made my jaw drop on first viewing; it's a scene so emotionally overpowering that I'll never forget it.</p><p><b>3. <i>David Byrne's American Utopia </i>(Spike Lee). </b>There's a Zen calm and elder-statesman authority to the Byrne we see in this euphoric concert movie that contrasts nicely with the hyper, geeky eccentricity that the musician exhibited in director Jonathan Demme's landmark '80s Talking Heads concert film <i>Stop Making Sense</i>. Cementing this as the perfect bookend to that film is how Lee, like Demme before him, thinks beyond the proscenium of the stage to conceive of the concert as occurring in cinematic space. So while this premiered on HBO, it's definitely not TV in my mind. In fact, when watching this for a second time and noticing how Lee visually represents Byrne's plea for an America based in human connection, I made the choice not to consider the stylistically rudimentary filmed version of <i>Hamilton</i> for this list (but it may yet be mentioned below when I recognize non-eligible work...)</p><p><b>4. <i>First Cow </i>(Kelly Reichardt). </b>Throughout her career, Reichardt has possessed a downright Malick-esque gift for beautifully capturing the natural world on screen. But her formal rigor, patient rhythm, and focus on the authentically inhospitable aura of certain environments--instead of the cosmic potential of nature that Malick draws from--makes her a singular, invaluable auteur in her own right, and this is her richest, most haunting film yet. She locates a potent metaphor for capitalism in how a cook (John Magaro) working for fur trappers and a Chinese immigrant (Orion Lee) in the depleted Oregon frontier team up for a culinary business venture that involves stealing milk from a landowner's cow. Even more powerfully, she finds within these two entrepreneurs a model of how friendship can be a sustaining force in fallow times.</p><p><b>5. <i>Soul </i>(Pete Docter). </b>The best films from animation giant Pixar are as gently profound as they are visually wondrous and emotionally satisfying. This metaphysical adventure/comedy proudly continues that tradition, concerning itself with nothing less than the joy we take from life that makes it worth all the setbacks and disappointments. The relationship between a music teacher (voiced by Jamie Foxx) and an errant soul (Tina Fey) eager to get its journey on Earth started can be seen as representing either a mentor/protege or a parent/child bond. Either way, there's a genuinely wise sense of how older generations can gain a new appreciation of the world from younger ones. </p><p><b>6. <i>Nomadland</i> (Chloe Zhao).</b> It's always a special moment when an emerging filmmaker you're initially skeptical of turns around and proves to be the real deal. I felt Zhao's previous critical success, <i>The Rider</i>, was too schematic in portraying marginalized lives, but <i>Nomadland</i> manages to be both beautifully poetic and generously open-heated in depicting the wandering lifestyle of those living on the fringes of America. As Fern, our guide through this subculture, Frances McDormand achieves a magically unforced state of being that feels like it transcends acting. Zhao is as compassionate digging into Fern's past as she is in allowing the nomads who Fern meets tell their stories, making this a character study of vast scope and insight.</p><p><b>7. <i>Palm Springs</i> (Max Barbakow).</b> This manages to be not only an endlessly fresh and inventive riff on the <i>Groundhog Day</i> premise of being stuck in a "same day over and over again" time loop, but also the funniest, most perceptive romantic comedy in years. Wedding guests Nyles (Andy Samberg) and Sarah (a revelatory Cristin Milioti) aren't squeaky-clean genre archetypes, but neurotic, dysfunctional messes we can all relate to. Writer Andy Siara's ingenious script has unintended resonance for viewers stuck in the monotony of quarantine, and on a more timeless level, gets at how weathering the repetition of life is more bearable with someone at your side.</p><p><b>8. <i>Collective </i>(Alexander Nanau).</b> The moral urgency and engrossing procedural meticulousness of this Romanian documentary grab you by the shirt collar and leave you powerfully shaken by the end. Director Nanau executes a deft genre switch within his non-fiction storytelling, starting out in the mode of an <i>All the President's Men</i>-style journalistic procedural before shifting halfway through to the corridors of power to offer a real-life political thriller. What connects the two halves is a disturbing unmasking of the many-tentacled corruption of Romania's health care system. Nanau lays in glimpses of victims' fates with mosaic-like artistry, ensuring that his film hits the heart as mightily as it does the head.</p><p><b>9. <i>Another Round</i> (Thomas Vinterberg).</b> Danish provocateur Vinterberg has examined man's capability for uncivilized beastliness in films such as <i>The Celebration</i> and <i>The Hunt</i>, so it makes perfect sense that he's made an uncommonly insightful, non-moralistic movie about our addiction to alcohol and the carefree youthfulness it can make us feel. While much funnier and more accessible than Vinterberg's past work, it also has a complex dark side acknowledging the collateral damage of its drunken middle-aged protagonists' carousing. I'm not gonna say which side of the expertly struck tonal balance the final scene lands on, but hoo boy--what an ending!</p><p><b>10. <i>Mangrove </i>(Steve McQueen).</b> This marks the ideal entry point to McQueen's <i>Small Axe</i>, introducing us to the London immigrant neighborhood the films take place in via restaurant owner Frank Crichlow (an extremely moving Shaun Parkes) and showing us why the neighborhood is a home worth fighting for. In a year in which Black protestors have fought for their right to exist against the police, it's hugely resonant to show the seeds of necessary radicalism sprout within Frank as cops repeatedly tarnish his business and customers. And when <i>Mangrove</i> becomes a courtroom drama, it emerges as one with detailed specificity, huge emotional force, and the stylistic imagination and control of a master filmmaker.</p><p>And here are the next ten runners-up:</p><p><b>11. <i>Dick Johnson Is Dead</i> (Kirsten Johnson).</b> The conceit of director Johnson coping with the prospect of her father dying soon by staging and shooting various scenarios of his demise may sound head-scratching, but you need only watch Johnson collaborating with her dad on this unusual project to understand how much the two are gaining from the experience. Ultimately, the film is a touching plea to celebrate those we love while they're still with us, and Johnson's adoration of her dad proves infectious.</p><p><b>12. <i>Sound of Metal</i> (Darius Marder).</b> When Ruben (Riz Ahmed, in one of the year's most unforgettable performances), a drummer for a metal band, begins losing his hearing at an alarming rate, the way he lashes out with angry denial seems at once immature and also admittedly like how any of us would react to such a devastating development. That makes this a drama of complicated, strongly empathetic humanity, and the immersive magic of Marder's sound design makes it just as impressive on a technical level.</p><p><b>13. <i>Quo Vadis, Aida?</i> (Jasmila Zbanic).</b> It's forgivable to hear the phrase "Bosnian genocide drama" and assume that what you're in for with this film is a dull, academic lecture--but luckily, that's not at all what Zbanic delivers. Instead, she's made a gripping, tense ticking-clock thriller in which every bad decision made by the UN as the Serbian army invades Bosnia has a visceral, enraging effect. Jasna Duricic puts a movingly human face on the tragedy as a UN translator fiercely dedicated to getting her family out safe.</p><p><b>14. <i>Tenet</i> (Christopher Nolan).</b> When I first saw this, I was blown away by Nolan's characteristically intricate and spectacular action sequences, but honestly pretty damn confused and left wondering if there was any meaning to the beautifully orchestrated madness. On second viewing, though, it really clicked for me, engaging me much more with its crazed narrative density and revealing that Nolan's choice to name the hero literally the Protagonist (embodied with star-level swagger by John David Washington) is the key to what it's about thematically--the kind of rare heroism that finds moral value in saving a single life even as the future of the entire world hangs in the balance.</p><p><b>15.<i> And Then We Danced</i> (Levan Akin).</b> "There is no sex in Georgian dance!" insists an instructor of Georgia's national dance troupe, which seems like an absurd statement to make, but it's indicative of the conservative extremism that dominates the nation. That gives this queer coming-of-age romance, which has been crafted by Akin with an excellent balance of authentic naturalism and expressive, dance-based formalism, unusually high stakes. As a dancing student (Levan Gelbakhiani, in an impressively modulated performance) falls for a new arrival (Bachi Valishvili), we fear the worst for their future. And in a climactic, defiant assertion of identity I don't want to say too much about, we get cleansing catharsis.</p><p><b>16. <i>I'm Thinking of Ending Things</i> (Charlie Kaufman).</b> Always a cerebral innovator in the comedy writing world, Kaufman had a richly productive year between his 700+-page (!) satiric epic novel <u>Antkind</u> and this layered, absorbingly puzzle-like curio. In Kaufman's hands, a woman's (Jessie Buckley) trip to meet her boyfriend's (Jesse Plemons) parents becomes a characteristically witty and melancholy reflection on mortality, the passage of time, and our personal relationship to the art and pop culture we love. I regret that I didn't get a chance to watch it again before writing this, to sift through its many narrative and thematic complexities with a more trained eye.</p><p><b>17. <i>Judas and the Black Messiah</i> (Shaka King).</b> Simultaneously an impassioned, relevant history lesson and a robust, energized cop-movie epic, this fashions the true story of Bill O'Neal's (LaKeith Stanfield) recruitment by the FBI to entrap Black Panthers Chairman Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) as a gripping undercover yarn. King makes an auspicious impression keeping the film both vital and exciting, while the two lead actors deliver stunning work--Kaluuya exhibits fiery command and strength as Hampton, while Stanfield makes O'Neal a rivetingly, affectingly conflicted Judas.</p><p><b>18. <i>The Assistant</i> (Kitty Green).</b> It would be all to easy to render the story of working for a Harvey Weinstein-influenced boss as tabloid sensationalism. Green's remarkably assured fiction debut excels by taking the opposite approach, capturing the daily routine of an abusive executive's assistant (Julia Garner) with exacting, dread-tinged minimalism. The precise deliberateness of Green's filmmaking is entrancing, and Garner's intuitive performance matches that artfulness with a quiet control all its own.</p><p><b>19. <i>Possessor</i> (Brandon Cronenberg).</b> The son of body horror maestro David Cronenberg, writer-director Brandon Cronenberg proves to be a chip off the old block with this wonderfully trippy, imaginative sci-fi thriller, which fuses his father's tendencies with the stylistic lushness and splashy gore of Korean extreme genre fare. The core premise of an assassin who inhabits other people's bodies allows Andrea Riseborough and Christopher Abbott to enact an expertly coordinated, <i>All of Me</i>-style acting duet, while Cronenberg's alternately gorgeous and disturbing imagery sears its way into your brain.</p><p><b>20. <i>Beanpole </i>(Kantemir Balagov).</b> I'm not gonna pretend that this exquisitely directed post-World War II drama about two nurses (Viktoria Miroshnichenko and Vasilisa Perelygina) coping with trauma isn't bleak and occasionally hard to watch. But at the same time, it's beautiful to behold, with immensely gifted young filmmaker Balagov vividly using yellows and greens in his precise compositions, powerfully acted, and filled with guarded hope that the pieces of a broken land can be put back together. As we emerge from the other side of a devastating pandemic, here's a movie that attests to the potential for hard-won recovery.</p><p>And here are 14 more movie standouts from 2020:</p><p><b>21. <i>Education</i> (Steve McQueen).</b></p><p><b>22. <i>Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets</i> (Bill Ross IV and Turner Ross).</b></p><p><b>23. <i>Let Them All Talk</i> (Steven Soderbergh).</b></p><p><b>24. <i>Welcome to Chechnya</i> (David France).</b></p><p><b>25. <i>The Climb</i> (Michael Angelo Covino).</b></p><p><b>26. <i>She Dies Tomorrow </i>(Amy Seimetz).</b></p><p><b>27. <i>Gunda </i>(Viktor Kossakovsky).</b></p><p><b>28. <i>The Trial of the Chicago 7</i> (Aaron Sorkin).</b></p><p><b>29. <i>Alex Wheatle</i> (Steve McQueen).</b></p><p><b>30. <i>The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart </i>(Frank Marshall).</b></p><p><b>31. <i>Deerskin</i> (Quentin Dupieux).</b></p><p><b>32. <i>Bad Boys For Life </i>(Bilall Fallah and Adil El Arbi).</b></p><p><b>33. <i>Circus of Books</i> (Rachel Mason).</b></p><p><b>34. <i>The Old Guard </i>(Gina Prince-Bythewood).</b></p><p>Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work:</p><p><b><i>Hamilton </i>(Thomas Kail). </b>Just because I earlier referred to this as more TV-like in its basic "filmed play" presentation doesn't mean I didn't fully love it as a way to experience Lin-Manuel Miranda's electrifying stage masterwork. It's so rousing I felt a literal surge in my chest after musical numbers ended.</p><p><b><i>Black Is King</i> (Beyonce).</b> The pop star continued her ascent as a filmmaking voice with this visually ravishing video album reimagining <i>The Lion King</i> as a celebration of Black excellence, which includes everything from Jodorowsky's <i>The Holy Mountain </i>to Guadagnino's <i>Suspiria </i>remake as reference points.</p><p><b><i>We Are Who We Are </i>(Luca Guadagnino). </b>Speaking of Guadagnino, his 8-part miniseries following two kids figuring themselves out on an American Army base in Italy is as sensual and evocative as anything he's ever done, with a specific sense of place and a palpable sense of youthful abandon.</p><p><b><i>The Queen's Gambit</i> (Scott Frank).</b> We all watched this and loved it. 'Nuff said.</p><p>As Yet Unseen: <i>The Dig</i>, <i>The Life Ahead</i>, <i>Lingua Franca</i>, <i>The Glorias</i>, <i>Vitalina Varela</i>, <i>Miss Juneteenth</i>, <i>The Mole Agent</i>, <i>A White, White Day</i>.</p>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-596882677097776632020-02-07T17:07:00.000-08:002020-02-07T17:07:03.832-08:00The Best Films of 2019It's a cruel, undeniable truth that we're all getting older, and even if we all had access to the de-aging CGI that Martin Scorsese deploys in <i>The Irishman</i>, it wouldn't really turn back the clock. As much as that digital touch-up technology has been discussed and debated (for what it's worth, I found it only disorienting at first, and then gradually easier to take than young actors in old-age makeup), what's more thought-provoking in Scorsese's newest film is how it finds the 77-year-old director exploring how the twilight years of one of his gangster anti-heroes would go--and it's not a pretty picture. While <i>The Irishman</i> didn't end up placing very highly on my list of the year's best films, as seen below, two master filmmakers who appeared in my top ten--Quentin Tarantino (hard to believe the <i>Pulp Fiction</i> "bad boy" is nearing 60!) and Pedro Almodovar--fruitfully focused on their own mortality just as Scorsese did. It's simultaneously rewarding and a little depressing to watch these auteurs acknowledge that death is knocking at their doorsteps.<br />
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On a more uplifting note, there are young filmmakers with plenty of future work ahead of them on this list as well. And considering that the end of a movie is a lighter topic than the end of a life, it's worth noting that what unites both the old pros and the gifted whipper-snappers behind the films on this list is the ability to deliver a knockout punch of an ending. Looking over these titles, genuinely perfect final scenes and shots come immediately to mind. So in bringing the film year of 2019 to its own closing, here's my list of the best movies from a hugely satisfying 12-month crop:<br />
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<b>1. <i>Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood</i> (Quentin Tarantino).</b> Set in a transporting, immaculately realized recreation of late '60s L.A. (props to production designer Barbara Ling!), this hangout movie par excellence exudes both humor and melancholy in juxtaposing a movie star (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt double (Brad Pitt) approaching the point of obsolescence with ingenue Sharon Tate's (Margot Robbie) rise in the industry firmament. Even more affecting than the obvious contrast is when Tarantino finds the characters' common ground (like when Tate's hunger for validation in the <i>Wrecking Crew</i> showing is placed alongside that of DiCaprio's Rick Dalton on the set of <i>Lancer</i>), making the film a love letter to the insecure dreamers who create the dream of movies.<br />
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<b>2. <i>Portrait of a Lady On Fire</i> (Celine Sciamma). </b>So devastating and meticulously constructed that it already feels like one of the all-time great cinematic love stories, this period piece depicts the growing affection in the relationship between a young woman (Adele Haenel) struggling with a forthcoming marriage that she was forced into and the artist (Noemie Merlant) hired to paint her portrait. Sciamma, in only her fourth film, organically unites a cerebral study of the nature and creation of art with a swoon-worthy, romantic heart. Speaking of great final shots, this has one I may never fully recover from.<br />
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<b>3. <i>Parasite</i> (Bong Joon-ho). </b>Ever since seeing Bong's monster movie <i>The Host</i> twice in theaters, I've been an enormous fan of his imaginative genre smarts and astonishing filmmaking precision, so it's gratifying that his latest and most magically seamless film has been such a huge success in America. <i>Parasite</i>'s biting portrait of the desperation with which lower classes compete for crumbs from the tables of the 1% obviously resonates here as potently as it does in South Korea, and the mastery with which Bong combines comedy, suspense, satire, surprise twists, and affecting family drama into one neatly arranged package transcends any language barriers.<br />
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<b>4. <i>Marriage Story</i> (Noah Baumbach).</b> And here's another writer-director that I'm proud I was in on the ground floor of, since I practically memorized Baumbach's 1995 debut <i>Kicking and Screaming</i> during my high school and college years. With <i>Marriage Story</i>, Baumbach's writing remains as witty as ever, though it's ambitiously boosted here with a mature dedication to capturing the unruly messiness of real life and how that which we don't plan for so often intrudes on that which we do. The film is honest and tough when it comes to portraying divorce, though Baumbach's complex humanism ensures that it can't be reduced to being a downer.<br />
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<b>5. <i>Ash Is Purest White </i>(Jia Zhangke). </b>Though there are early Jia films I have yet to catch up on, he's seemingly been fascinated with China's political and cultural landscape throughout his career, and with this film, he goes even further than he did in the excellent <i>Mountains May Depart</i> in embedding that interest within a grand "movie movie" epic. Part romantic melodrama, part gangster movie, and even dabbling a bit in the action and sci-fi genres, <i>Ash Is Purest White</i> offers a hearty cinematic banquet and thoughtfully reflects on what is and what isn't able to change as the years go by. In the lead, the luminously expressive Zhao Tao gives one of the year's major overlooked performances.<br />
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<b>6. <i>Pain and Glory</i> (Pedro Almodovar). </b>Antonio Banderas has memorably collaborated with Almodovar several times before, but he's never been as achingly vulnerable onscreen as he is in this powerfully moving autobiography, playing a fictionalized version of Almodovar. As this filmmaker character explores old memories and relationships left unresolved, Almodovar brings the mysteries of life, love, and artistic creation to the screen as confidently as he splashes it with his signature bold colors. This is a late auteur work as universal as it is personal.<br />
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<b>7. <i>Ford V Ferrari </i>(James Mangold).</b> Crowd-pleasing underdog stories don't get more heartfelt and intelligently crafted than this, which achieves the nifty trick of being both about the pursuit of excellence within a corporate sphere and a shining example of that very thing. Mangold reaches the peak of old-school classicism he's always been striving for, and the sharply edited, thrilling racing scenes gain extra investment from the script's funny and touching portrait of the sometimes-combative friendship between Ken Miles and Carroll Shelby (Christian Bale and Matt Damon, both in top movie-star form). Bound to be a basic-cable rewatch favorite.<br />
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<b>8. <i>A Hidden Life</i> (Terrence Malick).</b> Because of his uncanny ability to capture the beauty of the natural world, Malick always brings the past to life with tactile authenticity, and this account of an Austrian farmer (August Diehl) refusing to obey Hitler during World War II is no exception. But a big part of what makes this the auteur's best film since <i>The Tree of Life</i> is how it uses the past to provocatively comment on the present; its depiction of a populace all too eager to embrace authoritarian bullying is depressingly relevant. Thus, there's an uncharacteristic anger from Malick informing the movie, though his embrace of the unwavering love between Diehl's Franz and wife Fani (Valerie Pachner) proves that he hasn't given up on the way of grace.<br />
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<b>9. <i>Apollo 11</i> (Todd Douglas Miller).</b> This is the year's best documentary, and it's such an act of you-are-there immersion that it feels like a genuinely novel use of the form. Boldly eschewing interviews of any kind, Miller trusts in the storytelling power of astonishingly evocative archival footage capturing America's first trip to the moon, and uses skillful, lucid editing and a surging score from Matt Morton to turn real history into a wondrous cinematic adventure. Going from a nuts-and-bolts procedural to a triumphant showcase of how close we can get to the cosmos, this has the shape and force of great sci-fi while being quite the opposite in actuality.<br />
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<b>10. <i>A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood</i> (Marielle Heller).</b> It's impressive that Heller has landed on my ten-best list two years in a row for refreshingly unconventional biopics, and doubly so that this PG-rated reflection on Mister Rogers' importance retains so much of the piercing urban melancholy of her R-rated Lee Israel portrait from last year, <i>Can You Ever Forgive Me?</i> But Heller's shrewd enough to acknowledge that the real world rarely feels as glowing as family-TV visionary Rogers (the great Tom Hanks, revealing yet more facets with a revelatory stillness here) sees it, via the ultimately inspiring arc of a journalist (Matthew Rhys, complex and undervalued) interviewing the icon of gentleness.<br />
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And here are the next ten runners-up:<br />
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<b>11. <i>John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum</i> (Chad Stahelski).</b> While the first <i>John Wick</i> boasts the leanest, most involving story of the series, this lays claim to being the most purely fun, exhilarating movie of the three. It offers even more elaborate and dazzling action scenes than its predecessors, while also amping up the color-drenched cinematic expressiveness. Keanu Reeves, of course, reigns supreme, and has excellent taste in sequels...<br />
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<b>12. <i>Toy Story 4</i> (Josh Cooley). </b>...since he also pops up here, as a neglected Canadian Evil Knievel-influenced action figure, one of a handful of amusing, lovable new characters introduced here (Forky!). This fourth entry also knows just where to take its best known character from the preceding trilogy, cowboy toy Woody (Hanks again!), movingly making a case for him to live a blissfully independent existence, thereby turning a sequel we didn't know we needed (the third one ended so perfectly!) into an essential extension of the remarkably consistent series.<br />
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<b>13. <i>Uncut Gems</i> (Josh and Benny Safdie). </b>Comedy superstar Adam Sandler has done nuanced work in eccentric auteur projects before (<i>Punch-Drunk Love</i>!), but his brave commitment to the weaselly desperation of gambling addict Howard is something strikingly new from him. The Safdie Brothers audaciously get the viewer feeling Howard's adrenaline-rush existence with assaultive yet beautifully inventive style and a tense, unpredictable narrative path, making their best film yet in the process.<br />
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<b>14. <i>How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World </i>(Dean DeBlois). </b>The most consistent non-Pixar animated franchise around reaches a rousing conclusion with this final entry, which is just as driven by epic visuals, imaginative world-building, and resonant themes of co-existence vs. blinkered prejudice as the previous two films. Lovable dragon Toothless' wooing of the Light Fury is portrayed with exquisite non-verbal storytelling, while the core bond between Toothless and young Viking Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) is resolved to get-the-Kleenex-ready perfection.<br />
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<b>15. <i>The Wild Pear Tree</i> (Nuri Bilge Ceylan).</b> In his most assured, thought-provoking film since <i>Once Upon a Time in Anatolia</i>, Turkish art-film master Ceylan compassionately depicts a recognizable kind of asshole--one who just needs to grow up a little to become a legitimately good man. Aspiring writer Sinan (Aydin Dogu Demirkol) returns to his hometown after college seething with resentment, and Ceylan charts his eventual maturation with gentle, observant wisdom.<br />
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<b>16. <i>Dragged Across Concrete</i> (S. Craig Zahler). </b>With his third, eloquent slice of pulp deconstruction, Zahler finds a unique, deliberate rhythm to show how the "jungle" of the crime world involves a lot of monotonous drudgery punctuated by quick bursts of life-or-death combat for cops and criminals alike. His dialogue remains singularly witty, especially when spit out by a hardened Mel Gibson (yep, he's great in this), and his geographically clean staging of the finale proves that his action is worth the (engagingly written and paced) wait.<br />
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<b>17. <i>Avengers: Endgame </i>(Joe and Anthony Russo).</b> From its audaciously quiet, character-driven first hour, driven by sincere, committed work from the vast ensemble cast, to its thrilling, time-travel mid-section that cleverly integrates memorable moments from past Marvel movies, and on through to its grand-scale finale, this is a hell of a wrap-up to over a decade of interrelated Marvel releases. Although the comics-based empire maintained a consistent level of quality in this key phase, this is only the second of its films, after <i>Black Panther</i>, where the level of gravitas matched the sheer spectacle.<br />
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<b>18. <i>Dolemite Is My Name</i> (Craig Brewer).</b> Something about playing an onstage performer--in this case, stand-up comedian turned amateur filmmaker Rudy Ray Moore--reawakens Eddie Murphy's own love of performing, and his joyousness proves infectious here. Writers Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski's gift for affectionate portraits of real-life misfits meshes with Brewer's gifts for milieu-building to create a '70s-era wonderland where the tirelessness of a makeshift family trying to realize its dreams is equaled only by the love and passion that sustains its close-knit members.<br />
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<b>19. <i>Little Women</i> (Greta Gerwig).</b> As good as <i>Lady Bird</i>, Gerwig's debut, is, its clipped rhythm felt too mannered for me to find it fully great. This Louisa May Alcott adaptation, on the other hand, marks an auspicious maturation point for the writer-director, graced with the breathing room necessary for the uniformly excellent cast to shine and for Gerwig's brilliant modern touches--a non-chronological structure, the meta foregrounding of Jo (Saoirse Ronan) as a female author working within established conventions--to really flourish. There's a human warmth infusing the movie that makes it comfortingly blanket-like.<br />
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<b>20. <i>Long Day's Journey Into Night</i> (Bi Gan).</b> Since Oscar front-runner and one-take war movie <i>1917</i> is quite good, it would be a waste of time to whine about why it's not a masterpiece deserving of the industry's highest honor. Instead, I'll direct readers to a film with a roughly 45-minute-long take that's more pleasurably engulfing in its use of space than the two-hour one Sam Mendes artificially stitched together. Watching <i>Long Day's Journey</i> unfold is like blissfully flying around within a visionary filmmaker's dream. Its fragmented story in this context amounts to a virtue--this is <i>cinema</i>.<br />
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And here are nine more movie highlights of 2019:<br />
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<b>21. <i>Ad Astra</i> (James Gray).</b><br />
<b>22. <i>The Irishman </i>(Martin Scorsese).</b><br />
<b>23. <i>Long Shot</i> (Jonathan Levine).</b><br />
<b>24. <i>Ready Or Not</i> (Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett).</b><br />
<b>25. <i>The Farewell</i> (Lulu Wang).</b><br />
<b>26. <i>Gloria Bell</i> (Sebastian Lelio).</b><br />
<b>27. <i>Honeyland</i> (Tamara Kotevska & Ljubo Stefanov).</b><br />
<b>28. <i>One Cut of the Dead</i> (Shinichirou Ueda).</b><br />
<b>29. <i>Waves</i> (Trey Edward Shults).</b><br />
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NOTE: Since I haven't yet caught up with big miniseries projects from Ava DuVernay (<i>When They See Us</i>) and Nicolas Winding Refn (<i>Too Old to Die Young</i>), I've decided not to give a "Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work" shout-out to great TV work from notable filmmakers. I mean, in terms of standout TV from artists who don't dabble much in film, <i>Watchmen</i> and <i>Chernobyl</i> are staggering, but you likely don't need me to tell you that.<br />
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As Yet Unseen: <i>Transit</i>, <i>Aniara</i>, <i>Sorry Angel</i>, <i>Light of My Life</i>, <i>Asako I & II</i>, <i>Give Me Liberty</i>, <i>Greener Grass</i>, <i>Fighting With My Family</i>, <i>Bombshell</i>, <i>Harriet</i>.Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-71778146151947725202019-02-22T16:49:00.001-08:002019-02-22T16:49:52.757-08:00The Best Films of 2018Although it's distressingly hard to find encouraging signs of cultural progress in the reactionary muck of current America, a glimpse at the best films of 2018 offers rare hope that things are moving forward--at least in the realm of cinematic representation, anyway. Just three years after the "#OscarsSoWhite" controversy raised the troubling question of how few opportunities non-white actors and filmmakers get to put great work out into the mainstream, the film landscape of 2018 was utterly dominated by POC, international, and female filmmakers. Curiously indicative of the way oft-marginalized voices reigned over the film year is how the few contributions from white American male filmmakers to rank highly on my list of the year's best films came from such unexpected directors--a movie star who rose to fame when the loathsome <i>The Hangover</i> hit it big at the box office; an Oscar-winning screenwriter whose directorial debut, the indulgent genre wank <i>The Way of the Gun</i>, has been deservedly lost to the sands of time; and a twentysomething stand-up comedian.<br />
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Just as pleasantly surprising is the wide range of material tackled by the black filmmakers whose work makes up a lot of this list, from a mega-budget Marvel superhero movie, to a female-centered heist thriller that transplants a British miniseries to modern-day Chicago, to a based-on-a-true-story '70s police procedural. And at the very top of my list of the best films of the year is an adaptation of a celebrated novel from a black director whose last film won the Best Picture Oscar two years ago:<br />
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<b>1. <i>If Beale Street Could Talk </i>(Barry Jenkins).</b> For any relatively new filmmaking voice, making two back-to-back masterpieces is already plenty impressive; when those two films end up being so different in scale while remaining identifiably from the same voice, the accomplishment ends up being even more staggering. Writer-director Jenkins follows up his intimate, three-act-beholden Oscar winner <i>Moonlight</i> with this more expansive, structurally bold, ensemble-driven portrait of '70s Harlem, adapted from James Baldwin's novel. When young, black lovers (played by the touching KiKi Layne and the absolutely electric, underrated Stephan James) are torn apart by societal injustice, Jenkins widens his compassionate gaze to show how their families and community keep them afloat, along with the strength of their unbreakable romantic bond. Cinematically expressive to a degree that makes you swoon anew over the medium and rich with powerful empathy, <i>If Beale Street Could Talk</i> sends you out of the theater positively glowing.<br />
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<b>2. <i>Can You Ever Forgive Me? </i>(Marielle Heller).</b> Making their own, female-centric contribution to the tradition of pricelessly witty New York literary comedy-dramas favored by auteurs like Woody Allen and Noah Baumbach, director Heller and writers Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty also manage to make one of the most quietly profound contemporary takes on the life of a writer. Melissa McCarthy is wonderfully intuitive and surprising from the first frame as real-life celebrity biographer Lee Israel, who habitually uses liquid comfort to cope with being beyond her professional and financial peak. Her fortunes improve once she connects with gay, rascally drinking buddy Jack (Richard E. Grant, perfectly matching McCarthy in humor and poignance) and funnels her talents into writing spot-on, lucrative literary forgeries. Without outright endorsing Lee's crime, this simultaneously melancholy and inspirational marvel illustrates how a writer's gifts can thrive in the unlikeliest of contexts.<br />
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<b>3. <i>Mission: Impossible - Fallout </i>(Christopher McQuarrie).</b> Although McQuarrie, best known for his Oscar-winning <i>The Usual Suspects</i> script, previously directed the excellent fifth entry in this series, <i>Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation</i>, few could've guessed that with this sixth entry, he would make not only the franchise high-water mark in a consistently entertaining series that directorial heavyweights such as Brian De Palma and John Woo have contributed to, but also the most purely exhilarating action-movie <i>experience</i> since George Miller's <i>Mad Max: Fury Road</i>. As it happens, though, McQuarrie's screenwriting background is what gives <i>Mission: Impossible - Fallout </i>its propulsive kick--he crafts each whopper of an action sequence like a discrete mini-narrative with its own masterfully modulated peaks and valleys. Naturally, action hero par excellence Tom Cruise, as intrepid IMF agent Ethan Hunt, is a major factor behind the film's visceral impact too. Watching a legend pushing 60 dangle from a rope attached to a flying helicopter is the kind of jaw-dropping spectacle we've always gone to the movies for.<br />
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<b>4. <i>You Were Never Really Here</i> (Lynne Ramsay). </b>While the narrative synopsis of this dark visionary triumph--ex-military veteran (Joaquin Phoenix) rescues a young girl (Ekaterina Samsonov) from a child prostitution ring--makes it sound like typical vigilante fare, Scottish master of abstraction Ramsay thankfully doesn't do "usual." She instead artfully crafts <i>You Were Never Really Here</i> as an immersive character study that uses jagged shards of flashbacks, tactile textural details, and a chaotic, the-voices-won't-stop sound design to get us inside the tortured head of Phoenix's Joe. As for the continually committed lead actor, a 2018 acting MVP with three (!) appearances on this list, he alters his physicality to make Joe a beefy, frightening threat, and is just as thorough in investing himself emotionally, revealing Joe underneath his hulking build to be a wounded soul who saves another life so that he doesn't consign his own to eternal oblivion.<br />
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<b>5. <i>A Star Is Born </i>(Bradley Cooper). </b>It would be impossible to top director George Cukor's 1954 take on this oft-told tale of performers in love whose individual career trajectories tragically diverge, which showcased a heartbreaking Judy Garland performance, so it's high praise to say that Cooper's remake succeeds so beautifully on its own terms that it feels vital and new instead of merely imitative. Lady Gaga brings a revelatory low-key authenticity to the role of a singer whose talent takes her from drag bars to sold-out stadiums, while Cooper as an actor turns in his most piercingly vulnerable performance as a rocker whose alcoholism is exacerbated by his dwindling popularity. And as a director, Cooper infuses the concert scenes with the lightning-in-a-bottle force of live shows, and unapologetically embraces the material's melodramatic foundation while modernizing it with an emotionally raw, rough-hewn naturalism.<br />
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<b>6. <i>Shoplifters</i> (Hirokazu Kore-eda). </b>Exploring how family is ultimately defined by something more ineffable than blood ties has always been one of the chief thematic concerns of Japanese writer-director Kore-eda, one of contemporary cinema's great humanists, and <i>Shoplifters</i> arrives as perhaps his most generous and profound expression of that idea yet. In charting the efforts of economically struggling outcasts who have formed a makeshift family unit to not just survive but form an emotionally sustaining life together, Kore-eda demonstrates a unique gift for finding the moments of gentle humor and tender connection that bond us to these characters as strongly as they're bonded to each other. He's just as skilled when it comes to withholding character and narrative details until he can spring them at just the right time for emotionally devastating detonation. He's invaluably aided by his lovable cast, in particular the incredibly moving Sakura Ando as a force of maternal love.<br />
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<b>7. <i>The Favourite </i>(Yorgos Lanthimos).</b> Anyone expecting stiff-upper-lip decorum from this period piece set in 18th century England is in for quite a shock, while those of us who welcome the subversion of middlebrow formula can embrace the savage wit and stealthy feminist kick of <i>The Favourite</i> wholeheartedly. Greek provocateur Lanthimos indelibly puts his own perverse, sinister stamp on this portrait of two social climbers (Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz) competing for the affections of the mentally and physically deteriorating Queen Anne (Olivia Colman). Writers Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara provide a non-stop barrage of hilarious, merrily profane one-liners, and collaborate with Lanthimos to reveal the corrosive effects of a society in which women have to fight tooth-and-nail to become anything other than a subservient wife on the souls of those women. The trio of actresses who breathe life into this vicious struggle could hardly be more impeccable.<br />
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<b>8. <i>Widows </i>(Steve McQueen).</b> This thrillingly dense and gripping slice of elevated pulp fiction about four fierce women (Viola Davis, Michelle Rodriguez, Elizabeth Debicki, and Cynthia Erivo) who carry out a heist that three of their thief husbands planned before dying on a botched job audaciously begins with the editing juxtaposition of sexual intimacy with ferocious car-chase-and-gunfire action. Director and co-writer McQueen is no stranger to contrasts, having unexpectedly pivoted to this thriller from the Oscar-winning historical drama <i>12 Years a Slave</i>, and he consciously builds <i>Widows</i> from that grabber of an opening onwards as a study of divisions--particularly those of race, gender, class, and political power in present-day Chicago. In bringing his long-take cinema to genre fare, he magically proves that art and entertainment are more easily bridged contrasts, while co-writer Gillian Flynn of <i>Gone Girl</i> fame supplies pungent dialogue to a formidable ensemble cast.<br />
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<b>9. <i>Black Panther</i> (Ryan Coogler).</b> The comics-based movies that comprise the Marvel Cinematic Universe are, with a few exceptions (I'm looking at you, <i>Thor: The Dark World</i>!), reliably entertaining, as the seemingly zillions of people loyally see each one can attest to. But none to date have had the epic narrative and visual scope or provocative political depth that Coogler and co-writer Joe Robert Cole bring to <i>Black Panther</i>, a spectacular and complex gold standard in quality for the hit factory. In pitting superhero Black Panther's alter-ego, T'Challa (Chadwick Boseman), the newly crowned leader of hidden African kingdom Wakanda, against the vengeful Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan, magnetic and rewardingly sympathetic), who is of Wakandan heritage but was raised in a hostile-to-black-citizens America, Coogler crafts a resonant popcorn-movie parable of how leadership is defined by the conflict between build-that-wall isolationism and compassionate outreach.<br />
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<b>10. <i>Mandy</i> (Panos Cosmatos). </b>There's something insanely gratifying about being in on the ground floor for a new cult classic, which the hallucinatory, mind-expandingly imaginative revenge movie <i>Mandy</i>--the rare earmarked-for-VOD-release independent film to get an expanded big-screen release by popular demand--certainly qualifies as. Cosmatos' singular visual design takes heavy-metal album covers and fantasy paperbacks as the primary forms of inspiration, while the bifurcated structure of his and co-writer Aaron Stewart-Ahn's script boldly shifts from the romantic transcendence of Red (Nicolas Cage) and Mandy's (Andrea Riseborough) secluded life together to the blood-soaked rage of Red's retribution once Mandy is taken from him. Such yin-and-yang storytelling renders this arguably The Most Nicolas Cage Movie ever made, playing into the interconnected sincerity and irony of his wild commitment to his craft. <i>Mandy</i> is radical drug-trip cinema of the very highest order.<br />
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And here are the next ten runners-up:<br />
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<b>11. <i>Eighth Grade</i> (Bo Burnham).</b> There's a moment in this uniquely evocative and touching coming-of-age portrait in which 13-year-old Kayla (Elsie Fisher, an uncanny natural who just seems to exist rather than act), while making the most brutally honest of her many online-video journals, compares her social anxiety to the feeling of waiting in line for an intense rollercoaster. That even many of us alleged "grown-ups" can relate to this comparison speaks to how effortlessly stand-up comedian Burnham has tapped the universal from the specific in his film writing-directing debut. Added bonus for fans of Noah Baumbach's <i>Kicking and Screaming</i>: that film's oft-overlooked lead, Josh Hamiton, nearly steals the film as Kayla's dorky, loving dad.<br />
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<b>12. <i>Revenge</i> (Coralie Fargeat). </b>As much as I like genre fare, I wouldn't have guessed that an exploitation movie of the usually stomach-turning "rape-revenge" variety would narrowly miss out on my annual top 10. Credit for the anomaly goes to debut filmmaker Fargeat, who possesses a veteran's shrewdness at layering her vivid images and edits with gender-focused subtext. As for the text itself, it's a remarkably vicious, pared-down, and hugely cathartic yarn of one underestimated woman's (Matilda Lutz, absolutely not to be fucked with) violent payback of the trio of assholes who took cruel advantage of her. By the time she confronts her duplicitous boyfriend (Kevin Janssens), who's helplessly naked and slipping in pools of his own blood, you know you've witnessed an act of top-shelf genre subversion.<br />
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<b>13. <i>Won't You Be My Neighbor? </i>(Morgan Neville).</b> That we're currently enduring an era in which kindness and acknowledging each other's vulnerabilities are revolutionary acts makes this documentary portrait of Fred Rogers, the heartwarmingly decent patron saint of children's television, an emotionally cleansing moviegoing experience--you can hear every other audience member sniffling alongside you through the film's entirety if you see it in theaters. Expert non-fiction storyteller Neville weaves animated segments in with archival clips and endearingly candid interviews to create a collage-like flow. And in focusing on the messages of tolerance and unity that Rogers spent his career emphasizing, he's able to assure viewers of every age that things may just turn out okay in the end.<br />
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<b>14. <i>BlacKkKlansman</i> (Spike Lee).</b> Ever since busting into the zeitgeist with the incendiary <i>Do the Right Thing</i> nearly 30 years ago, Lee has displayed a singular knack for combining kinetic, inventive style, dense and confrontational reflections on race in America, and epic, accessible storytelling into dynamite cinematic packages. He delivers another such combination with this simultaneously entertaining and infuriating truth-based story of a black Colorado cop (John David Washington) who infiltrates the Ku Klux Klan using a Jewish colleague on the force (Adam Driver, soulful and layered) as his public face. Moving with the tension and tough swagger of a fun cop movie, but buoyed by outrage over American institutions that normalize racism as matters of "policy," <i>BlacKkKlansman </i>confirms that Lee remains as scorchingly releveant as ever.<br />
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<b>15. <i>Game Night </i>(John Francis Daley & Jonathan Goldstein). </b>It's near-impossible not to be in the mood for a breezy, well-cast studio comedy, which makes it all the more depressing that there have been so few great examples of the form in recent years. So when a verbally whip-smart, visually dynamic, constantly surprising laughfest like <i>Game Night</i> arrives, it's cause for celebration, not to mention endless cable rewatching down the road. When Scrabble-playing suburbanites (led by Jason Bateman and Rachel McAdams, the latter having a blast flaunting her comedy chops) get roped into dangerous criminal shenanigans that they still believe to be just a game, directors Daley & Goldstein push the action to delightfully over-the-top extremes. As the kind of pathetic neighbor you perpetually avoid inviting to house parties, a deadpan Jesse Plemons registers as the cast MVP.<br />
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<b>16. <i>The Old Man & the Gun </i>(David Lowery).</b> The role of Forrest Tucker, a senior-citizen bank robber whose weapons of choice are his smooth-talking kindness and the charming twinkle in his eye, is perfectly suited for the legendary Robert Redford, eternally the Sundance Kid. That Redford in interviews keeps equivocating as to whether Forrest will be the last part he plays only furthers the connection--this is a character addicted to professionalism, to being damn good at his job. With Forrest, as opposed to Redford, there's something sad about such commitment, considering the sacrifices he must make in pursuing a life of crime, including his burgeoning romance with Jewel (the radiant Sissy Spacek). This gives <i>The Old Man & the Gun</i> a gentle melancholy to counterbalance its affable, often funny caper spirit. So while writer-director Lowery, who made the similarly big-hearted <i>Pete's Dragon</i> remake a few years back, beautifully replicates the style of the '60s and '70s films Redford is known for, he also makes sure to honor the humanity behind those classics.<br />
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<b>17. <i>The Sisters Brothers</i> (Jacques Audiard).</b> The Old West is a particularly incongruous setting to ask the question, can hardened men ever form a utopian society? Yet that's the conceit of this endearingly eccentric Western, which follows two closely bonded pairs of guys--the killer-for-hire brothers of the film's title (John C. Reilly and Joaquin Phoenix), and a bounty hunter (Jake Gyllenhaal) who unexpectedly befriends his chemist quarry (Riz Ahmed)--as they gradually converge and test whether fellowship outweighs greed. A perceptive and expressive chronicler of the masculine psyche, Audiard gives the film a shadowy atmosphere reminiscent of '70s Westerns like Altman's <i>McCabe & Mrs. Miller</i>, while wisely keeping the focus on character idiosyncrasies over story and drawing finely detailed work from his excellent central quartet of actors.<br />
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<b>18. <i>The Other Side of the Wind</i> (Orson Welles).</b> It's a geekgasm-worthy quirk of film history that long-dead maestro Welles has a film that hadn't been completed and released until 2018 (courtesy of skilled editor Bob Murawski finishing up based on Welles' notes). That's still nothing compared to the hall-of-mirrors layering of the film itself, a dizzying cinematic feast revolving around a past-his-prime filmmaker (John Huston, in a majestic, warts-and-all tour de force) who is based partly on Welles himself (the filmmaker's protege is played by Welles acolyte Peter Bogdanovich) and partly on the kind of macho tyrant/artist best exemplified by Ernest Hemingway. Welles also has plenty of fun with movie-within-a-movie playfulness, and considering he shot this in the '70s, this is overall his attempt at the New Hollywood stylistic experimentation that defined the era. True to form, though, he can't help but be ahead of his time, cutting between various film stocks in a manner that resembles and predates '90s-era Oliver Stone. In less technical terms, this is pure cinephile nirvana.<br />
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<b>19. <i>Minding the Gap </i>(Bing Liu).</b> The inextricable link between living in poverty and the way domestic abuse cycles from one generation to the next is explored with clear-eyed empathy in this powerful documentary. Director Liu started filming the skateboarding adventures that he and two of his friends would embark upon to escape the harsh drudgery of their lives in economically ailing Rockford, Illinois when the three of them were young. As the trio grows older, Liu's observant camera catches something more profoundly sad--the despair of growing up with limited options for success, and the unfortunate tendency for that despair to manifest itself in violence. <i>Minding the Gap</i> is not without hope, however; its skateboarding sequences are joyous, and the fact that Liu made this film is proof that not all dreams die in places like Rockford.<br />
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<b>20. <i>The Death of Stalin</i> (Armando Iannucci).</b> It initially seemed like a possible career mistake when brilliant satirist Iannucci left his Emmy-perrenial HBO hit <i>Veep</i> before the series had ended its run. But while <i>The Death of Stalin</i>, the film he chose to make instead, may not be quite as hilarious as his 2009 movie debut <i>In the Loop</i> (which isn't much of a complaint--it's still often very, <i>very</i> funny), it is far more cinematic, thereby justifying the director's defection to another medium. In portraying the power struggles within Stalin's Cabinet following the dictator's demise, Iannucci imitates the look and feel of a prestige historical drama, only to subvert the form by depicting the ministers as flailing nincompoops. A game ensemble cast, of which character actor Simon Russell Beale is a standout as secret police chief Lavrenti Beria, tears into the script's potty-mouthed witticisms with gusto.<br />
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And here are 12 more film highlights from 2018:<br />
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<b>21. <i>Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot </i>(Gus Van Sant).</b><br />
<b>22. <i>Lean On Pete </i>(Andrew Haigh).</b><br />
<b>23. <i>Sorry to Bother You</i> (Boots Riley).</b><br />
<b>24. <i>22 July </i>(Paul Greengrass).</b><br />
<b>25. <i>First Reformed </i>(Paul Schrader).</b><br />
<b>26. <i>Shirkers</i> (Sandi Tan).</b><br />
<b>27. <i>Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse </i>(Peter Ramsey, Bob Persichetti & Rodney Rothman).</b><br />
<b>28. <i>Isle of Dogs</i> (Wes Anderson).</b><br />
<b>29. <i>Jane Fonda in Five Acts</i> (Susan Lacy).</b><br />
<b>30. <i>Incredibles 2 </i>(Brad Bird).</b><br />
<b>31. <i>Suspiria </i>(Luca Guadagnino).</b><br />
<b>32. <i>A Quiet Place</i> (John Krasinski).</b><br />
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Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work:<br />
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-<b><i>Atlanta</i>, "Teddy Perkins" (Hiro Murai)</b>, a peculiar and haunting reckoning with Michael Jackson's legacy<br />
-<b><i>The Zen Diaries of Garry Shandling</i> (Judd Apatow)</b>, in which one comedy icon pays comprehensive and incredibly moving tribute to another<br />
-<b><i>The Night Comes For Us</i> (Timo Tjahjanto)</b>, a truly insane, inventively splattery Indonesian action movie that genre fans must seek out on Netflix<br />
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As Yet Unseen: <i>Everybody Knows</i>, <i>Border, Western</i>, <i>Let the Corpses Tan</i>, <i>Thunder Road</i>, <i>A Prayer Before Dawn</i>, <i>A Bread Factory (Parts One and Two</i>).Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-19368603174151251142018-03-08T19:00:00.000-08:002018-03-08T19:00:40.681-08:00The Best Films of 2017At a primal level, movies serve as a way to escape reality, and let's face it--the reality of America in 2017 was often so utterly depressing that the need to escape it, even if just for two-hour chunks here and there, was more urgent than ever. First among those who made the year so unusually grueling to endure is, of course, Donald Trump, who approached his first year as President of the United States with bungling incompetence, spiteful cruelty, alienating arrogance, and hideously undiluted racism. And as brave victims of sexual harassment and assault in the film industry have come forward to share their stories, many men who possess far more talent and intellect than Trump have been proven to be nearly as slimy. Even those of us who generally find it very easy to separate the art from the artist can see the necessity of purging certain predators who use the workplace as an arena for groping (or worse). All of this meant that keeping up with the daily news in 2017 amounted to an invitation to non-stop wincing.<br />
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So it takes nothing away from the best films of the year to say that every theatrical release in this period felt like a life saver to desperately cling to. (I didn't see <i>The Emoji Movie</i>, but surely it's not as torturous as checking in on the latest Trump tweets.) And it's noteworthy that many of the year's cinematic highlights offered a treasured quality that feels like it's in short supply: hope. Whether via women fighting back with magical lassos and roadside signs, soldiers taking on Nazis in WWII, or journalists exposing the U.S. government's deceit, these films provided much-needed optimism. So here are the best movies of 2017:<br />
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<b>1. <i>The Lost City of Z </i>(James Gray).</b> The brilliant neo-classicist behind <i>Two Lovers</i> and <i>The Immigrant</i>, Gray gets his biggest canvas to date with <i>The Lost City of Z</i>, resulting in a transporting, wondrous adventure epic. The true story of British explorer Percy Fawcett (Charlie Hunnam) discovering evidence of an advanced, now-extinct civilization in the Amazonian jungle in the early 20th century is filled with beauty and peril, captured with screen-filling grandeur by Gray and director of photography Darius Khondji. Underneath this sumptuous surface is a haunting, resonant study of pushing against limits--those of English society, which refuses to believe Fawcett's findings of alleged "primitives" who made pioneering advances the British empire previously laid claim to, as well as the limits of obsession, which overtakes Fawcett's entire being as he searches for the Amazonian lost city, leaving his wife (Sienna Miller, who, like Hunnam, does career-best work here) and family in the dust. That makes this an old-fashioned yarn with a troubled, modern soul as deep as the Amazon itself.<br />
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<b>2. <i>The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)</i> (Noah Baumbach).</b> When Danny Meyerowitz (Adam Sandler, proving how intuitive an actor he can be with the right material) gives a drug-fueled speech at an event honoring his sculptor father, Harold (Dustin Hoffman), he bluntly questions his dad's legacy, musing, "If he wasn't a great artist, that means he was just a prick." Due to aforementioned reveals of sexual predators in Hollywood, we now know that Hoffman, the actor playing Harold, is both a great artist <i>and</i> something of a prick. It's a coincidence that, in a weird way, speaks to the bittersweet human complexity at the heart of <i>The Meyerowitz Stories</i>. Harold and his sons, Danny and Matthew (Ben Stiller), can be arrogant, selfish, and needlessly competitive with each other, but writer-director Baumbach generously embraces their just-as-evident virtues. He is perhaps most affectionate towards the women stuck in the Meyerowitz family, particularly Harold's sardonic daughter, Jean (Elizabeth Marvel, priceless), and free-spirited current wife, Maureen (Emma Thompson). With dense, singularly witty dialogue and an ingenious structure that uses recurring motifs to connect isolated chapters, Baumbach has created a family portrait of beautiful specificity.<br />
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<b>3. <i>Wonder Woman</i> (Patty Jenkins).</b> There are plenty of qualities that mark <i>Wonder Woman</i> as a throwback within the growing world of comic-book movies--its World War I period setting; the showmanship and earnest but light tone that director Jenkins, making an astounding segue from indie to big-budget studio fare, effortlessly pulls off; the snappy, <i>Ninotchka</i>-esque verbal back-and-forth between Diana (Gal Gadot), the mighty princess of Themyscira, and Steve Trevor (Chris Pine), the American fighter pilot who serves as her guide through Earth's less exalted realms, which gives the film a sincere human core. But as the audience cheers that greeted the sight of Diana confidently striding into No Man's Land can attest, <i>Wonder Woman</i> is also a rousingly zeitgeist-tapping genre treat. There's a cathartic feminist kick in seeing Diana stand up to male warmongers, and the movie is also ingenious in using Diana's belief that Ares, the god of war, has corrupted mankind as a metaphor for reckoning with the dark side of humanity. Through Diana's alien eyes, we get to experience the anger at man's capacity for evil anew, and in Gadot's fierce, star-making performance, we get to celebrate the ability to confront it.<br />
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<b>4. <i>Brawl in Cell Block 99</i> (S. Craig Zahler). </b>The difference between poetry and prose in ultraviolent B-movies is beautifully illustrated by how leisurely and flavorful writer-director Zahler makes the journey leading up to when drug-runner-with-a-code-of-honor protagonist Bradley (Vince Vaughn) enters the titular cell block. Zahler similarly took his sweet time with his Western debut <i>Bone Tomahawk</i>, and in this audacious sophomore outing, his patience allows the viewer to savor his precise, colorful dialogue and the nuances and brutish charisma of Vaughn's career-best performance, as well as to become invested in Bradley's dedication to his flinty wife, Lauren (a feral Jennifer Carpenter). So when Bradley is incarcerated and goons threaten Lauren to force Bradley to carry out a mission in the prison's maximum-security cell block, the deliberate set-up pays off in elevating Bradley's arc to the realm of powerful B-movie myth--he's a brawling Orpheus descending into ever-gnarlier pits of hell for the woman he loves. And for those who treasure prison movies as eloquent as they are vicious, <i>Brawl in Cell Block 99</i> is some kind of heaven.<br />
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<b>5. <i>Star Wars: The Last Jedi</i> (Rian Johnson).</b> Given the narrative zig-zagging of writer-director Johnson's previous work, like the con artist caper <i>The Brothers Bloom</i> and the sci-fi thriller <i>Looper</i>, it's not surprising that the filmmaker has freshened up this beloved franchise of space operas with a few well-placed curveballs. While some of his subversions--like making one-time Jedi warrior Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill, exhibiting stronger gravity and control as an actor with age) a bitter recluse, and having Rebel pilot Poe (Oscar Isaac), who possesses a Skywalker-esque fearlessness in an X-wing, chastised (by a no-nonsense Laura Dern, no less!) for practicing the same kind of hot-dogging heroism that made Luke a savior--angered certain fanboys, they helped make this the richest, most surprising series entry since <i>The Empire Strikes Back</i>, as well as the one with the strongest, most touching sense of the power of political rebellion. Johnson's aesthetic flair (the color red here is showcased to a Powell-and-Pressburger-esque degree) and command of spectacle honors the cinematic traditions of a series that he refreshingly goes his own narrative way with.<br />
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<b>6. <i>Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri </i>(Martin McDonagh). </b>When Mildred (Frances McDormand, peerless at digging into the souls of stubborn hard-asses) rents out a trio of billboards to bluntly confront the local police force for failing to pursue any suspects in the tragic case of her daughter's murder, she becomes a surrogate for all Americans who have felt betrayed by the institutions intended to protect them. This doesn't mean that McDonagh, the profanely witty playwright whose previous film triumphs <i>In Bruges</i> and <i>Seven Psychopaths</i> established his gift for despairing dark comedy, wants to position Mildred as an entirely virtuous heroine. Nor does he settle for relegating Officer Dixon (Sam Rockwell, in a role that showcases his vast range), the oafish, racist cop who has allowed Mildred's daughter's case file to gather dust, to a stock villain role. In McDonagh's world, the characters are all like the beetle helplessly wriggling on its back glimpsed in the billboard office early in the film--creatures persevering in the face of a universe that has cruelly knocked them down. McDonagh quietly sympathizes with that act of defiant perseverance, while simultaneously finding a bracing, vinegary blast of humor in its futility.<br />
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<b>7. <i>Dunkirk</i> (Christopher Nolan).</b> In telling how Allied troops under constant attack from the Germans in World War II were evacuated from the beaches of Dunkirk, visionary filmmaker Nolan boldly eschews conventional approaches to narrative and characterization, opting instead for full sensory immersion and an intricate time-nesting structure. Aided by the churning intensity of composer Hans Zimmer's score and the IMAX-screen-filling grandeur of Hoyte van Hoytema's cinematography, Nolan has reconfigured the war movie as an abstract symphony of sand, water, fire, metal, and bodies in near-constant motion. By the time the film's heroes--and, by extension, the overwhelmed audience--are finally able to evade enemy attacks and take a breath, the film reveals itself as a wartime hymn to those who live long enough to fight another day. That <i>Dunkirk </i>arrives at this inspiring purpose through strictly cinematic means of expression is a testament to the medium that Nolan has always championed with a justifiably monk-like dedication.<br />
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<b>8. <i>Coco</i> (Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina).</b> The imaginative wizards at Pixar Animation Studios have transported viewers to the secret societies that toys, fish, and monsters form behind humans' backs, but they aren't usually as interested in the diversity of the everyday world in front of us. One of the low-key delights of their incredibly moving latest adventure <i>Coco</i> is how young aspiring musician Miguel's (voiced by Anthony Gonzalez) family life in Mexico is rendered with such affectionate authenticity; the representational focus on south-of-the-border culture and traditions breathes fresh life into the animation giant. As it happens, the dance between life and death is a major theme of the film, which takes Miguel into the Land of the Dead--a colorful, visually rapturous take on the underworld--to discover the origins of his family's strict no-music ban. Miguel's journey is filled with ingenious twists, and the eventual emotional payoff is devastating. As culturally specific as <i>Coco </i>is, its celebration of our bonds to family members we have lost will resonate with everyone.<br />
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<b>9.<i> After the Storm</i> (Hirokazu Kore-eda).</b> Caught in a pattern of failure, Ryota (Hiroshi Abe), the protagonist of Kore-eda's remarkably wise and perceptive drama, can't overcome the crippling writer's block that's preventing him from penning a follow-up to his acclaimed first novel, and he ends up gambling away the money he makes from moonlighting as a private eye. That means he often scrambles to pay child support to his ex-wife (Yoko Maki), though he desperately wants to live with her and their son (Taiyo Yoshizawa) as the family they once were. When the three of them seek shelter from a rainstorm, they find themselves again under the same roof, and Kore-eda captures the melancholy of yearning to recapture something that may be gone forever. But, as the writer-director conveys with gentle humor, compassionate warmth, and the help of an excellent cast (Kirin Kiki as Ryota's mother is a particular highlight), everyone's daily battle to be his or her best self goes on in spite of the past glories that have been lost to the sands of time.<br />
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<b>10. <i>Call Me By Your Name </i>(Luca Guadagnino). </b>In the hugely cathartic father/son talk that comes near the end of Guadagnino's sensual tale of young love and that has quickly become its most beloved scene, Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg, incredibly touching) assures teenage Elio (Timothee Chalamet, nailing the roiling emotional currents of his character down to the most minimalist nuance) that Elio's romantic connection with Oliver (Armie Hammer) has "everything and nothing to do with intelligence." The film bears this observation out in its very form. While the pleasingly erudite screenplay by James Ivory ensures that Elio and Oliver's discussions carry the right intellectual charge, director Guadagnino, as well as the intimacy of Chalamet and Hammer's performances, capture the physical and chemical nature of the two young men's infatuation with each other--in other words, the part of it that has nothing to do with intelligence. The duo's swimming, dancing, bike riding, and playful roughhousing acquire the suggestive heat of foreplay. And Guadagnino surrounds them with beautiful relics--classical music, the statues that Mr. Perlman uncovers--to drive home the point that love affairs like this have been human achievements for all of history.<br />
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And here are the next ten runners-up:<br />
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<b>11. <i>Logan Lucky</i> (Steven Soderbergh).</b> Thank goodness that director Soderbergh didn't stick to his stated goal to retire from making movies, because he's made a hell of an entertaining one with <i>Logan Lucky</i>. It's a heist movie whose narrative turns and stylistic control superficially resemble Soderbergh's <i>Ocean's</i> trilogy, but its Southern milieu--portrayed by the filmmaker with both sincere affection and gentle mockery--gives it a scruffy, laid-back identity all its own. Its left-field pleasures include Daniel Craig goofing it up as an explosives expert named Joe Bang, a gang of prison inmates infuriated at writer George R.R. Martin's lack of productivity, and a school talent show performance of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" that may bring a tear to your eye.<br />
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<b>12. <i>The Big Sick (</i>Michael Showalter). </b>One of the many things that make <i>The Big Sick </i>an uncommonly smart and satisfying romantic comedy is that the obstacles keeping comedian Kumail (Kumail Nanjiani, who co-wrote the autobiographical script with wife Emily V. Gordon) and psychiatric student Emily (Zoe Kazan) apart opt for real-world gravity instead of lazy contrivance. They're divided first by cultural expectations (Kumail's parents demand that he marry within the Muslim faith), and then by medical emergency once Emily falls into a coma. This singular journey to "happily ever after" is marked by big laughs and rendered with palpable emotional authenticity. Ray Romano and the wonderful Holly Hunter add to the plausibility with perfectly lived-in turns as Emily's parents.<br />
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<b>13. <i>mother!</i> (Darren Aronofsky).</b> With wicked imagination and formal assurance, the one-of-a-kind allegory <i>mother!</i> charts an egomaniacal artist's (Javier Bardem) careless destruction of his long-suffering muse (Jennifer Lawrence, fearless)--and that's just one layer of this open-to-interpretation, boldly abstract auteur curio. Lawrence's character has been viewed by others as a stand-in for Mother Earth, yelling in anguish as countless people leave her home in ruins. And it's just as possible to walk away with a more superficial reading of the film as a portrait of how annoying unwanted houseguests can be. Either way, Aronofsky's film pulses with a nightmarish intensity that's hard to shake off.<br />
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<b>14. <i>Detroit</i> (Kathryn Bigelow).</b> Action specialist Bigelow has always been an aggressively physical director, one whose control of space, texture, and movement has a visceral effect on the viewer. Watching the incendiary docudrama <i>Detroit</i>, the viewer is bound to want to escape when Bigelow focuses in on the Algiers Motel, where a face-off between white cops and innocent black men ends in unwarranted violence. This is a purposefully abrasive cinematic experience, but its power, energy, anger, and clarity about racial power dynamics in America can be cleansing for those open to its toughness. A frightening Will Poulter as the most sadistic cop and Algee Smith, touching as a victimized singer, stand out in a woefully underrated ensemble cast.<br />
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<b>15. <i>The Square</i> (Ruben Ostlund).</b> The world of contemporary art is an ideal playground for Ostlund, the Swedish provocateur whose precise compositional control is balanced with a cynical, mischievous sense of satiric humor. He skewers the pretensions of gallery culture as amusingly as expected in <i>The Square</i>, but what elevates the movie to greatness is its probing, open-ended inquiry into the difficulty (or is that impossibility?) of doing one's part to transform urban society into an idealized utopia. Ostlund's most electrifying set piece exploring this occurs when a wild ape-man performer (Terry Notary) terrorizes a banquet hall full of gallery patrons without any heroic interference to obstruct him. It's a scene so vibrant and unpredictable it feels like it's unfolding live, and it points to why Ostlund has emerged as such a vital talent on the international scene.<br />
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<b>16. <i>Wonder</i> (Stephen Chbosky).</b> It goes without saying that a family film about a boy born with facial deformities (Jacob Tremblay, proving his <i>Room </i>performance was no fluke) braving public elementary school for the first time carries with it a high probability for sappiness. But Chbosky, the onetime novelist improving on his already striking debut <i>The Perks of Being a Wallflower</i>, possesses the intelligence and empathy necessary to sidestep the premise's potential for mush, and delivers an emotional powerhouse that earns every tear shed. With a novelistic structure that gives vividly drawn supporting characters each a chance to shine, <i>Wonder</i> smartly addresses that the cruelty of kid society, much like that of the adult world, is a result of everyone fighting an unseen battle. So it's best, as the movie says, to "choose kind"--a motto that's profound in its simplicity and daring in its sincerity.<br />
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<b>17. <i>Phantom Thread</i> (Paul Thomas Anderson).</b> Compared to auteur Anderson's mammoth epics like <i>Magnolia</i> and <i>There Will Be Blood</i>, a period chamber drama about a fastidious fashion designer (Daniel Day-Lewis, as chameleonic as ever) and the headstrong waitress (Vicky Krieps) who challenges his routine existence feels minor at first glance. But on second viewing, <i>Phantom Thread</i> reveals itself to be uniquely insinuating and resonant--a love story that uses specific quirks (it's delightful to see that .gifs have been made of the Day-Lewis character's odd tantrums) to arrive at universal truths about long-term relationships. The film nails how what's exasperating about love is inextricable from what's intoxicating about it, as well as detailing the initial difficulty and eventual contentment of compromise.<br />
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<b>18. <i>The Killing of a Sacred Deer</i> (Yorgos Lanthimos).</b> A dark comedy of sinister elegance, <i>The Killing of a Sacred Deer</i> opens with a close-up of a chest cavity being operated on, which is an apt curtain-raiser for a dissection of how the instinct for self-preservation reduces us all to quivering flesh and blood. The basic premise of a mysterious teenager (Barry Keoghan, in a chilling breakthrough performance) terrorizing a wealthy surgeon's (Colin Farrell, as perfect a deadpan match for director Lanthimos as he was in <i>The Lobster</i>) family sounds like stalker-thriller material, but luckily, Lanthimos is far more interested in mining queasy laughs from tangents focusing on the frailty of the human body. By the time Farrell's doctor is shouting maniacally at his wife (Nicole Kidman, game as ever) about magical pubic hairs, the audacity of the film's morbid absurdity becomes something to cherish.<br />
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<b>19. <i>Atomic Blonde</i> (David Leitch). </b>This year proved that the co-directors of 2014's sublime action movie <i>John Wick</i> are each just as formidable when working alone. Chad Stahelski's <i>John Wick: Chapter 2</i>, which (spoiler alert for the end of this blog entry!) placed right outside my top 20, delivers in a way sequels rarely do. And Leitch's <i>Atomic Blonde</i> is a kick-ass Cold War spy movie with its own unique sensibility. The Berlin Wall serves as not just a key setting in the film, but as its organizing principle--the divide between the weary cynicism of the double-crossing characters onscreen and the exuberant pop surface of glistening neon lights and '80s New Wave soundtrack cuts that Leitch creates is just as pronounced. At the center of it all is the mighty Charlize Theron as badass spy Lorraine Broughton. A hypothetical team-up movie with her and Wick would melt all the faces in all the world.<br />
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<b>20. <i>Raw</i> (Julia Ducournau).</b> Making a remarkably assured debut, writer-director Ducournau merges horror and coming-of-age genre tropes to create a strange hybrid that's simultaneously lyrical and savage. When teenage vegetarian Justine (Garance Marillier) embarks on her first year at veterinary college, she soon discovers that she has an appetite for a kind of meat that's strictly taboo, and that she may not be the only one in her family who does. Ducournau bites into the central metaphor of awkwardly trying to form your own self once you leave home behind with as much relish as Justine feasts on flesh. The ample gore is imaginatively rendered, and complemented by beautifully expressive filmmaking, occasional gallows humor, and insight into the struggles of young adulthood.<br />
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And here are seven more 2017 standouts:<br />
<b>21. <i>A Cure For Wellness </i>(Gore Verbinski).</b><br />
<b>22. <i>The Post</i> (Steven Spielberg).</b><br />
<b>23. <i>The Disaster Artist</i> (James Franco).</b><br />
<b>24. <i>John Wick: Chapter 2</i> (Chad Stahelski).</b><br />
<b>25. <i>The Florida Project</i> (Sean Baker).</b><br />
<b>26. <i>Song to Song </i>(Terrence Malick).</b><br />
<b>27. <i>Stronger</i> (David Gordon Green).</b><br />
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Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work: It's essentially a no-brainer that this goes to <b><i>Twin Peaks: The Return</i> (David Lynch)</b>, a TV event with such formidable cinematic chops that some critics and cinephiles have gone ahead and labeled it an 18-hour-long film so that it would be eligible for their year-end lists. No matter what medium you think it belongs to, superlatives like "stunning" and "breathtaking" feel almost insufficient in describing Lynch's constantly surprising, immaculately crafted achievement. Ever since it's left the air, I've missed the sensation of getting in front of the TV every Sunday and having absolutely no clue what kind of mad genius Lynch was gonna throw at me.<br />
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As Yet Unseen: <i>Faces Places</i>, <i>Loveless</i>, <i>Girls Trip</i>, <i>Jane</i>, <i>Hostiles</i>, <i>Lady Macbeth</i>, <i>Princess Cyd</i>, <i>Ex Libris</i>, <i>Foxtrot</i>, <i>Beatriz at Dinner</i>, <i>Dawson City: Frozen Time</i>.<br />
<b><br /></b>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-88903926752876411242017-04-25T13:26:00.001-07:002017-04-25T13:26:17.891-07:00The Best Films of 2016In an age where digital streaming services offer a dizzying array of TV and music options that can easily be enjoyed at home, the simple act of going to see a movie on the big screen threatens to become an endangered pastime. That's why the need for new filmmaking voices is arguably now more vital than it ever has been--their artistic passion serves as proof that the medium is still very much alive and kicking. Luckily, if the work that many relatively green filmmakers turned out in 2016 is any indication, film will have no trouble thriving in the near future.<br />
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This may seem like a surprising assertion coming from a dyed-in-the-wool lover of veteran auteurs such as myself, and to be sure, household names like Scorsese and Eastwood contributed dependably brilliant work in 2016. But when noticing that a little over half of the films on my list below of the best movies of the year come from directors who are fewer than five films into their career, a sense of optimism over where filmmaking newbies are taking the art form is only natural.<br />
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So while the year proved that inexperience is not an ideal quality for a White House candidate, it also confirmed that the same quality can be something much more positive for a director--a starting point for a possible future master. Here are the best films of 2016:<br />
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<b>1. <i>La La Land </i>(Damien Chazelle). </b>Opening with a dazzling song-and-dance number set in maddeningly congested LA freeway traffic and captured in a fluid simulation of a long take, <i>La La Land</i> immediately announces that <i>Whiplash</i> writer-director Chazelle has taken to his biggest canvas yet with confident showmanship. The sequence is perhaps even more impressive when viewed as an analogue for the movie as a whole; finding exuberance within the hell of gridlock reflects the film's complex, exquisite balance between unbridled joy and crippling melancholy, the escapism of movie fantasy and the harsh inescapability of reality. Ryan Gosling and especially the emotionally luminescent Emma Stone are perfectly cast as the central pair of aspiring-artist lovers, in that they exude both the glow of young love and the eventual heartache of realizing that love may ultimately not be enough to sustain their union.<br />
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<b>2. <i>American Honey </i>(Andrea Arnold). </b>The tale of a young woman (remarkably intuitive newcomer Sasha Lane) who escapes her impoverished, dysfunctional home life to join a group of wildly misbehaving teenagers for a life on the road selling magazine subscriptions, <i>American Honey</i> carries echoes of <u>Oliver Twist</u> and the carefree Lost Boys of <u>Peter Pan</u>. But in the hands of writer-director Arnold, making her best and most ambitious film yet, it's also its own, thrillingly original thing--a scrappy, empathetic, and immersive epic of the open road. Arnold and director of photography Robbie Ryan offer glimpses of the American heartland nearly tactile in their vividness and detail, and the young cast performs with unfussy spontaneity. This is a movie you don't just passively watch--you truly <i>experience</i> it.<br />
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<b>3. <i>Paterson </i>(Jim Jarmusch). </b>So many of writer-director and indie-film pioneer Jarmusch's films are treasured primarily for how effortlessly cool they are in fusing style, music, and deadpan humor that it's easy to overlook the heart he puts into his work. But that's not a mistake anyone could make with <i>Paterson</i>, his most gentle and humane movie yet, and arguably the one most grounded in recognizable, everyday experience. The title character (Adam Driver) is a New Jersey bus driver and aspiring poet who sees his daily routine not as a grind, but as a chance to appreciate the little events and details that make every day special in spite of familiar work and home obligations. Driver's quiet, soulful performance is perfectly matched with Golshifteh Farahani's feisty energy as his wife. Jarmusch treats these characters, their dreams, and the working-class community they reside in with a subtly touching warmth.<br />
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<b>4. <i>Moonlight</i> (Barry Jenkins).</b> It's always a treat when a film's ambition and profundity sneak up on you, which is the case with writer-director Jenkins' sophomore effort, <i>Moonlight</i>. Divided into three chapter-like segments, <i>Moonlight</i> follows young, black Miami resident Chiron from childhood to adulthood as he wrestles with his homosexuality (Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and Trevante Rhodes achieve remarkable performance harmony playing Chiron at three different stages of his life). Each segment is so well-observed, and so assured in mixing voluptuous style with unblinking realism, that the cumulative portrait of a man reckoning with how time ultimately reveals your real self and not the person societal pressure demands you to be lands with surprising force. The richness extends to the supporting performances, including beautifully nuanced work by Mahershala Ali and Naomie Harris as complicated parental figures in Chiron's life.<br />
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<b>5. <i>Silence</i> (Martin Scorsese).</b> At one point early on in this gorgeous and powerful spiritual epic, Portuguese missionary Father Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield, in a performance of enormous physical and emotional commitment) says of the Japanese villagers that he ministers over, "I worry they value signs of faith over faith itself." And yet isn't that exactly what Rodrigues does when, later in the film, he refuses to apostatize by stepping on an image of Christ, even when his refusal threatens the lives of other Christians? Such thorny conundrums lie at the heart of this breathtakingly complex film, which reveres the courage it takes to hold onto one's religious beliefs in the face of violent opposition while at the same time criticizing the way that spiritual devotion can be twisted into pride, arrogance, and colonialist impulses. And Scorsese's masterful visual storytelling ensures that repeat viewings will unearth as many hidden cinematic treasures as there are intellectual and philosophical issues to grapple with.<br />
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<b>6. <i>Sully</i> (Clint Eastwood). </b>Throughout his directorial career, Eastwood has been fascinated with the demythologization of heroism. In the moving, brilliantly structured <i>Sully</i>, he continues this exploration not by undercutting the achievements of the titular pilot (Tom Hanks), who executed a tricky emergency landing of a passenger plane on the Hudson River, but by showing how bureaucratic, bottom-line-obsessed ass-covering and post-traumatic self doubt chip away at the perception of heroism. The ever-dependable Hanks faultlessly charts the dark interior journey of a man forced to question his life's work, while the non-chronological storytelling mirrors his troubled psyche. Eastwood ultimately validates the aptitude of Sully and everyone else on that legendary '09 flight, revealing that the true "miracle" on the Hudson was bravery and professionalism under pressure.<br />
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<b>7. <i>Hail, Caesar!</i> (Joel and Ethan Coen).</b> The story of a beleaguered Hollywood studio fixer (Josh Brolin, effortlessly balancing anachronistic stylization and recognizable humanity in his performance) trying to rescue a marquee star (George Clooney) who's been kidnapped by Communists allows peerless writing-directing team the Coen Brothers to hop freely between genres. As Brolin's Eddie prowls the studio lot, we see glimpses of various films being shot--an extravagant biblical epic, a toe-tapping musical, an elegant drawing-room comedy, you name it. This reflects the movie-saturated fabric of Eddie's day-to-day life, and on a deeper level, the existence of the film-savvy Coens themselves. And as the film's characters turn to religion or politics to give life meaning, the Coens seem to be arguing that the movies can act as a site of refuge and worship for some searching souls. It's a notion worth hailing, as is this witty, layered delight of a comedy.<br />
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<b>8. <i>O.J.: Made in America</i> (Ezra Edelman).</b> Along with FX Networks' alternately witty and tragic TV series <i>American Crime Story: The People vs. O.J. Simpson</i>, Edelman's dizzyingly dense, nearly-eight-hours-long documentary marked a year in which the '90s murder trial of "the Juice" surprisingly formed the basis for some of the most provocative long-form entertainment out there. <i>O.J.: Made in America</i> played in select theaters before airing in installments on ESPN, and Edelman's gifts for storytelling momentum and fluid non-fiction montage justify its categorization as cinema. The portrait that emerges of a black celebrity who sought to "transcend" race in shaping his image until it became a legal convenience for him to embrace his blackness makes this documentary a thoughtful, searing meditation on wealth-protected hypocrisy and the sad inability of America's racial wounds to heal.<br />
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<b>9. <i>Hell or High Water</i> (David Mackenzie).</b> Not only are the central characters in this exceptionally flavorful modern-day Western richly three-dimensional; every fringe-dwelling bit player manages to stand out with a salty personality of his or her own. So while director Mackenzie deserves credit for nailing the dry, pungently sweaty atmosphere of this Texas-set yarn, writer Taylor Sheridan (<i>Sicario</i>, also excellent) is the film's MVP, granting everybody onscreen dialogue so tangy that you can't wait to hear what they say next. A quietly commanding Chris Pine and the brilliantly mercurial character actor Ben Foster form an affecting fraternal bond as bank-robbing brothers, while the other side of the law is represented by a pair of Texas Rangers played by a deadpan Gil Birmingham and national treasure Jeff Bridges, who has aged into a true poet of grizzled masculine authority.<br />
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<b>10. <i>Zootopia </i>(Byron Howard and Rich Moore).</b> Bringing animated Disney family fare boldly into this current age of political divisiveness and caught-on-webcam police racism, <i>Zootopia</i> is a ballsy, unapologetically topical allegory of institutional and cultural bigotry. The colorful, elaborate design of the animal-populated metropolis the film takes place in and the imaginative chase sequences will delight kids, while adult <i>Chinatown </i>fans will be absorbed by the twisty, corruption-uncovering mystery narrative. And viewers of all ages will value how the story of headstrong bunny Judy Hopps (voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin) overcoming others' prejudices to become a cop, only to have to face her own deeply ingrained species-ism when circumstances force her to work alongside con-artist fox Nick Wilde (an appropriately sly Jason Bateman) imparts vital lessons on how best to navigate within a society overly fixated on reductive labels of "predator" and "prey."<br />
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And here are the next ten runners-up:<br />
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<b>11. <i>Manchester By The Sea</i> (Kenneth Lonergan).</b> The way that family members can messily go from combativeness to affection with each other in the blink of an eye is rarely captured accurately in movies, but this funny, emotionally raw drama gets it right. Writer-director Lonergan is just as unerringly honest when it comes to grief, showing how past tragedy keeps psychologically paralyzed janitor Lee (Casey Affleck) from being able to stay in his hometown and care for his nephew (Lucas Hedges) after his brother dies. In a piercing, lived-in performance, Affleck reveals the soul of a broken man.<br />
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<b>12. <i>Kill Zone 2</i> (Soi Cheang).</b> Don't let the title fool you--this is a stand-alone feature with allegedly little connecting it to its (unseen-by-me) predecessor. All one needs to bring to it is a love of dazzling fight choreography and operatic emotion. The story of a Thai prison guard (Tony Jaa) whose daughter urgently needs a bone-marrow transplant teaming up with a Hong Kong undercover cop (Wu Jing) to take down an organ-trafficking ring cleverly foregrounds the action genre's usually unspoken reliance on the frailty of the human body. That reliance also manifests itself in stunning action sequences that showcase both the acrobatic wonder and the bone-snapping limits of the body's abilities.<br />
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<b>13. <i>The Nice Guys</i> (Shane Black).</b> With a body of work that includes <i>The Long Kiss Goodnight</i>, which he wrote for director Renny Harlin, and his directorial debut <i>Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang</i>, Black has become a specialist in wildly entertaining, noir-tinged buddy action-comedies. This estimable tradition continues with <i>The Nice Guys</i>, which pairs wry, beefy Russell Crowe as a brutish enforcer with an uninhibited, never-funnier Ryan Gosling as a drunken private eye. As the private eye's no-nonsense daughter, Angourie Rice is a revelation. Black gives this trio plenty of hilarious dialogue to deliver, and is just as generous when it comes to offering up vivid LA-in-the-'70s atmosphere and inspired, absurdist non-sequiturs.<br />
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<b>14. <i>20th Century Women</i> (Mike Mills).</b> Considering that writer-director Mills' autobiographical portrait of his father's late-in-life coming out of the closet, <i>Beginners</i>, earned Christopher Plummer an Academy Award, it's a shame that Mills' latest cinematic memoir didn't even score an Oscar nomination for the magnificent Annette Bening's note-perfect performance as a Santa Barbara-dwelling single mother based on Mills' own mom. At least the Academy rightfully recognized Mills' screenplay with a nomination; its expansive exploration of generational divides, cultural shifts, and female sexuality, as well as the way it intermittently digresses to fill in characters' backstories, make it pleasingly novelistic. By the time this warm, compassionate film came to a close, I felt like I was saying goodbye to real people I had met.<br />
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<b>15. <i>Pete's Dragon</i> (David Lowery). </b>The best of Disney's recent remakes of their own properties is this touching re-do of their 1977 live-action/animation hybrid, which replaces the cheesiness of the original film with a disarming gentleness. Director and co-writer Lowery, who previously demonstrated a keen eye for nature in the indie <i>Ain't Them Bodies Saints</i>, allows the scenes of orphan Pete (Oakes Fegley) and his dragon pet/guardian Elliot frolicking in the Pacific Northwest woods play out with an organic patience. That way, when Pete must leave Elliot behind for civilization and life with a kindly park ranger's (Bryce Dallas Howard) family, the tears that flow feel fully earned. Lowery and his team of CGI wizards make Elliot so authentically dog-like that those tears will be especially plentiful for those of us who have ever lost a dear canine friend.<br />
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<b>16. <i>Everybody Wants Some!!</i> (Richard Linklater).</b> During one bong-fueled discussion in writer-director Linklater's hangout movie par excellence, a stoner riffs about "finding the tangents within the framework." In a way, that's what Linklater has done throughout his remarkable career. He takes a strict timeline--in this case, the weekend before a college baseball team in '80s-era Texas begins the schoolyear--and then sets a loose, conversationally free-wheeling rhythm within that timeline. The film's characters, for all their testosterone-powered braggadocio, prove to be socially adaptable enough to fit in wherever they party--be it at a discotheque, a punk club, or a drama-major shindig. Their openness is exceeded only by Linklater himself, whose affection for these youngsters proves contagious.<br />
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<b>17. <i>The Fits</i> (Anna Rose Holmer).</b> They don't call 'em "motion pictures" for nothing, which is something that impressively assured debut filmmaker Holmer intuitively understands. She fills every frame of this bracingly unique, hypnotic coming-of-age portrait with dynamic movement, which is fitting for the tale of an 11-year-old tomboy (magnetic newcomer Royalty Hightower) used to boxing training with her older brother joining the more feminine realm of a dance troupe. As members of the troupe begin falling prey to mysterious seizures, the film's mood is caught between eerie dread and euphoric empowerment--in other words, exactly the psychological tightrope many young girls find themselves on.<br />
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<b>18. <i>13th</i> (Ava DuVernay). </b>The title of DuVernay's impassioned, purposefully infuriating documentary refers to the Constitution's 13th Amendment, which bans slavery "except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted." The film persuasively charts how that exception has been exploited to keep black Americans oppressed, whether via the criminalization of civil-rights activism or the beefing up of punishment for minor drug charges. Numerous depressing recent headlines, most glaringly Trump's recent rolling back of Obama's plan to phase out private, for-profit prisons, make this necessary viewing for Americans wondering what happened to their country.<br />
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<b>19. <i>Green Room</i> (Jeremy Saulnier).</b> Combining the lean efficiency of a B-movie thriller with the shadowy aesthetic beauty and gruesome shock tactics of art-horror films, <i>Green Room</i> is wickedly unrelenting in its intensity. Writer-director Saulnier, considerably upping his game after the promising if ultimately underwhelming revenge movie <i>Blue Ruin</i>, pits a wet-behind-the-ears punk band (whose members include the talented, gone-too-soon young actor Anton Yelchin) against a pack of murderous neo-Nazi skinheads for a harrowing "survive the night" scenario. Squeamish viewers will want to steer clear, but for everyone else, this is one wild, sinister ride very much worth taking.<br />
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<b>20. <i>Jackie</i> (Pablo Larrain).</b> It's always refreshing to encounter a biopic that thinks outside of the traditional, birth-to-death narrative box. An excellent example is this cinematic snapshot of First Lady Jackie Kennedy (Natalie Portman) in the days immediately following her husband's assassination. The tight focus allows Noah Oppenheim's thoughtful script to ruminate on how a President's legacy is like a narrative that continues to be shaped after his or her death, and Larrain's strikingly poetic, non-chronological storytelling feels just as liberated. Portman gives an emotionally forceful, intelligently layered performance, and is aided by a haunting score by Mica Levi that feels like a direct expression of the character's grief-stricken fragility.<br />
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And here are ten more of the year's standouts:<br />
<b>21. <i>Captain America: Civil War</i> (Joe and Anthony Russo).</b><br />
<b>22. <i>Cafe Society</i> (Woody Allen).</b><br />
<b>23. <i>Weiner </i>(Josh Kriegman and Elyse Steinberg).</b><br />
<b>24.<i> Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping </i>(Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone).</b><br />
<b>25. <i>Little Men</i> (Ira Sachs).</b><br />
<b>26. <i>High-Rise</i> (Ben Wheatley).</b><br />
<b>27. <i>De Palma</i> (Noah Baumbach and Jake Paltrow).</b><br />
<b>28. <i>Mountains May Depart </i>(Jia Zhangke).</b><br />
<b>29. <i>My Golden Days</i> (Arnaud Desplechin).</b><br />
<b>30. <i>My Life as a Zucchini </i>(Claude Barras).</b><br />
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Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work: Beyonce's boldly abstract video album <b><i>Lemonade</i> (Jonas Akerlund/Beyonce Knowles Carter/Kahlil Joseph/Melina Matsoukas/Dikayl Rimmasch/Mark Romanek/Todd Tourso)</b>, which first premiered on HBO, and the infectiously joyous, only-on-Netflix concert film <b><i>Justin Timberlake + The Tennessee Kids</i> (Jonathan Demme)</b> didn't play in theaters, but they turned music into pure cinema.<br />
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As Yet Unseen: <i>Chevalier</i>, <i>Dog Eat Dog</i>, <i>Fire at Sea</i>, <i>Goat</i>, <i>Life Animated</i>, <i>Neruda</i>, <i>Your Name.</i>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-56899711258282273382016-09-28T19:27:00.001-07:002016-09-28T19:27:52.071-07:00EARLY REVIEW: "American Honey"Any movie with the word "American" in its title that opens with its teenage heroine (Sasha Lane) dumpster diving in order to feed her family can reasonably be counted on to offer a scathing commentary on the cultural and economic ills currently affecting the U.S. And on one level, British writer-director Andrea Arnold's singular, brilliantly immersive road movie <i>American Honey</i> functions as just such a critique.<br />
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Shortly after crawling out of the dumpster, Lane's character, Star, is drawn to a wild pack of misfit teens who ride around in a giant van and frighten the zombified masses shopping at a chain department store with an impromptu group dance to Rihanna's "We Found Love." Her flirtation with the group's smoothest talker, Jake (Shia LaBeouf), who Star pointedly teases as appearing Trump-esque in his dark suit pants, is enough to convince Star to ditch the alcohol-soaked dysfunction of her home life in favor of taking a chance on this energetic crew's itinerant existence.<br />
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The teens get by financially via a carefully worked-out system of breaking off into pairs and going door-to-door pretending to sell magazine subscriptions. They then reunite and give their swindled earnings to Jake's girlfriend and the real power behind the throne, Krystal (Riley Keough, who nearly steals the movie with the specific, subtly damaged toughness that she grants the character). After Star tells Krystal that she disapproves of the lies Jake spins to snag money from suburbanites, Krystal coldly rationalizes to Star that Jake isn't lying--he's simply making money.<br />
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It's in this vision of marginalized, lower-class outcasts reaching for success by being just as shady and deceitful as those who occupy the top of the economic food chain that <i>American Honey</i> imparts its sharp take on state-of-the-nation inequality and scavenging. Thankfully, though, Arnold is hardly a didactic filmmaker, and she has fused the gritty realism of her coming-of-age chronicle <i>Fish Tank</i> with the nature-obsessed lyricism of her stunning adaptation of <i>Wuthering Heights</i> to create a primarily experiential film that just happens to have a sociopolitical sting to it. Arnold prefers observing people and places to pushily shouting out the movie's message.<br />
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Observation is the key manner in which Arnold and her ingenious director of photography Robbie Ryan (who also collaborated with Arnold on all three of her previous features) convey that America, for all its disillusioning troubles, is still a land of plentiful beauty and hope. This point is made most explicitly in a lovely, Springsteen-scored scene between Star and a sweet-natured truck driver, but it's made most seductively in the cascading flow of nearly tactile visual details that Arnold captures. Every patch of flyover-state land that Krystal's crew travels to offers a bevy of invigorating new sights--wide vistas glimpsed out the van window, beautiful dogs, creepy insects. Even the rot of the string of motels the gang resides in registers as gorgeously authentic. This is "America the beautiful" image-making at its most entrancingly alien.<br />
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Arnold's heart proves to be as wide-open as her camera eye. Even though she has moral points to make via her characters, she's too generous to ever veer into full-on "the kids today" moralism. There's a joyousness to the teens' spirited sing-alongs in the packed van, and even Jake, whose cockiness and philandering trysts with Star make him the most potentially repellant character, is ultimately hard not to like. (LaBeouf's charisma has always depended on a motor-mouthed, paradoxically insincere sincerity, which makes him perfectly cast and at his best here.) And most importantly, Arnold's most empathetic embrace is of Star, whose watchful intelligence, brashly tell-it-like-it-is honesty, and youthful impulsiveness is brought to life in a star-making (irresistible pun intended) performance by the assured Lane.<br />
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Some may leave <i>American Honey</i> feeling that Star's episodic journey doesn't warrant the film's nearly-three-hour runtime, and that's fine. The expression "not for everyone" certainly applies to Arnold's intentionally rambling, narratively loose approach. But if you find yourself attuned to the movie's exhilarating feast-for-the-senses wavelength, you may find it to be the rare epic that you wish would never end. <b>Grade: A</b><br />
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<br />Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-23513051643714154772016-02-27T15:28:00.001-08:002016-02-27T15:28:24.393-08:00The Best Films of 2015Many critical discussions of the movie year 2015 have revolved around the word "diversity," and almost all of them situate that word within the same context: the lack of non-white artistic voices represented in this year's Oscar nominations, evident in the eight Best Picture nominees and the four Caucasian-dominated acting categories. Fixating on the Academy Awards as if it's the root of the movie industry's racial diversity issues rather than a symptom of them is problematic--shouldn't we be asking studios to commit to projects showcasing non-white talent rather than generating pissy clickbait thinkpieces about the uniformity of a popular awards-giving group's particular choices? More than that, though, it's frustrating that so many awards-season bloggers don't exhibit much imagination in their suggestions of which 2015 films featuring actors and filmmakers of color were snubbed by the Academy; they focus primarily on <i>Straight Outta Compton</i>, a quite good and refreshingly energetic if overstuffed biopic, merely because industry guilds viewed as influential Oscar precursors recognized the film. What about <i>Creed</i>, a more emotionally robust crowdpleaser than <i>Straight Outta Compton</i> and a sequel/reboot to 1976 Best Picture winner <i>Rocky</i>, or <i>Chi-Raq</i>, the latest cultural grenade from this year's recipient of a career-achievement Honorary Oscar, Spike Lee? To put it bluntly, why should any analysis of the Oscars' lack of diversity be let off the hook for being so stiflingly <i>not</i> diverse in and of itself?<br />
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Beyond the tribe of journalists dedicated to the movie awards circuit, critics with a wider range of focus did a fine job of celebrating performances left out of the conversation. To name a few examples, <i>Rolling Stone</i> and <i>Slate </i>contributor David Ehrlich and <i>Screen Crush</i>'s Matt Singer have championed Samuel L. Jackson's characteristically fluent grasp of Tarantino-ese in <i>The Hateful Eight</i>; <i>Movie Mezzanine </i>and <i>Spliced Personality</i> writer Sean Burns supported Ben Vereen's startlingly deglamorized turn as a homeless man in <i>Time Out of Mind</i> in both his review of the film and his Boston Online Film Critics ballot; and on Twitter, film historian and <i>Cinephiliacs </i>podcaster Peter Labuza has frequently given well-deserved props to Viola Davis' effortless badassery in <i>Blackhat. </i><br />
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Another kind of diversity that keeps moviegoing fresh and exciting is the diversity of genres, tones, and storytelling approaches out there, which is reflected in my list of the best films of 2015. Mother-and-child melodramas, sleek science-fiction, piercing documentaries, an uplifting sports movie, a bleak Western, a pair of Noah Baumbach comedies, and a healthy amount of globe-hopping espionage can all be found in this inventory of the year's cinematic highlights. And topping all other 2015 releases is an Aussie action juggernaut like no other:<br />
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<b>1. <i>Mad Max: Fury Road</i> (George Miller). </b>Tucking a rousing, unapologetically feminist rise-of-the-oppressed narrative within what is essentially a feature-length, multi-vehicle chase scene, Australian maverick Miller's continuation of his post-apocalyptic franchise has both passion and momentum to burn. A feverish, hallucinatory, kinetic genre masterwork that boasts a ferocious lead performance from Charlize Theron and some of the most dazzling action choreography ever captured on film, <i>Mad Max: Fury Road</i> is practically a living thing--a wild, untamed beast.<br />
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<b>2. <i>Mommy </i>(Xavier Dolan). </b>Twentysomething French-Canadian virtuoso Dolan reaches a new level of emotional maturity with this devastating portrait of a widow (Anne Dorval) struggling to raise her volatile teenage son (Antoine-Olivier Pilon) with the help of a damaged but stronger-than-she-seems neighbor (Suzanne Clement). The warts-and-all complexity of these three characters mesh beautifully with Dolan's knack for grand stylistic gestures to create a melodrama that's at once proudly movie-ish and lifelike in its embrace of beautiful human messiness. Raw and powerfully acted, <i>Mommy</i> has the lingering effect of great tragedy.<br />
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<b>3. <i>The Martian </i>(Ridley Scott). </b>There was a lot of understandable eye-rolling in response to the studio behind <i>The Martian</i>'s decision to submit it as a comedy for Golden Globes consideration; no one will mistake this high-stakes tale of the efforts to rescue a stranded-on-Mars astronaut (Matt Damon, as likable and nuanced as ever) for a Judd Apatow joint. But the film's delightful lightness of touch--evident in Damon's way with a tossed-off quip and in the expertly deployed soundtrack of disco hits--is a big part of what makes it such an unexpectedly brash treat. It's hugely stirring, as well as rewardingly cerebral in its space procedural problem-solving, but it's also just plain <i>fun</i>--the special kind of crowdpleaser that'll be worth rewatching over and over when it inevitably becomes a TNT staple.<br />
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<b>4. <i>Room </i>(Lenny Abrahamson). </b>The premise of <i>Room</i>--a young woman (Brie Larson) who's been imprisoned by a sexual assailant for years plans to escape with her born-in-captivity son (Jacob Tremblay) in tow--is so reminiscent of stomach-turning headlines that chief among the movie's most remarkable achievements is how it manages to sensitively put a human face on the kind of story the news media often paints in sensationalistic strokes. Larson and Tremblay forcefully convey how a parent/child relationship forged in the most dire of circumstances can be just as loving as a conventionally conceived one, and Abrahamson beautifully captures how the world looks to fresh eyes.<br />
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<b>5. <i>Brooklyn</i> (John Crowley). </b>Wearing its heart proudly on its sleeve and downright unfashionable in its quaint throwback appeal, <i>Brooklyn</i> is a gem of neo-classical storytelling, handsomely crafted by Crowley and infused with wit and stealthy structural genius by writer Nick Hornby. Young Irish-to-America transplant Eilis' (the luminously expressive Saoirse Ronan) journey is graced with a stranger-in-a-strange-land specificity, but is also profoundly universal in nailing the moment when everything that forms the nexus of identity--family, career, who we love, where we call home--clicks into concrete place.<br />
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<b>6. <i>The Look of Silence </i>(Joshua Oppenheimer). </b>A jolting glimpse into the horrific sight of evil trying to justify itself, this powerfully humane documentary gives an Indonesian optometrist the chance to confront and question the still-in-power soldiers who killed his brother in the genocide that scarred the nation in the '60s. With a stronger sense of moral purpose and a more hypnotic sense of place than <i>The Act of Killing</i>, Oppenheimer's previous documentary on the subject, <i>The Look of Silence</i> represents non-fiction filmmaking at its most courageously probing and aesthetically assured.<br />
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<b>7. <i>Mistress America</i> (Noah Baumbach). </b>Ever since <i>Kicking and Screaming</i>, his insanely quotable debut, writer-director Baumbach has been a master of off-kilter comedic dialogue. With its diamond-cut witticisms and collisions of characters whose hypocrisies are regarded with equal parts affection and satiric sharpness, <i>Mistress America </i>distills this gift of Baumbach's to its Oscar Wilde-esque essence--it's a drawing-room farce for the modern age. Greta Gerwig deserves credit not only for helping shape the non-stop zingers as co-writer, but also for being the perfect actress to bring Brooke, the film's most iconic dreamer/sellout combo, to such vividly funny and honest life.<br />
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<b>8. <i>About Elly</i> (Asghar Farhadi).</b> A group of friends gather at a seaside villa with the harmless ulterior motive of playing matchmaker for two members of their party--what could go wrong? Plenty, it turns out, especially in a nation as socially rigid as Iran. <i>About Elly</i>, even more than Farhadi's great <i>A Separation</i>, plays as a suspenseful model of narrative escalation while you watch it and as a multi-layered tragedy when you reflect on it later. This film's arrival on U.S. shores six years after it premiered overseas makes it a true gift from the movie gods.<br />
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<b>9. <i>Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck</i> (Brett Morgen). </b>Mixing animation, archival footage, and an enveloping musical soundscape, <i>Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck</i> is powered by the same inventiveness and dissonant beauty of its subject, the iconic, deceased frontman of pioneering grunge-rock band Nirvana. Rejecting talking-heads-driven <i>Behind the Music</i> formula, Morgen seems to tap into Cobain's psyche with his intuitive documentary-collage approach. And he knows when to let the songs speak for themselves--allowing Cobain's wrenching <i>MTV Unplugged</i> rendition of "Where Did You Sleep Last Night" play out in its entirety is its own kind of mic drop.<br />
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<b>10. <i>The Hateful Eight</i> (Quentin Tarantino).</b> Whereas Tarantino's last film, <i>Django Unchained</i>, was a Western that filtered its take on the Civil War's effect on America's racial divide through a folk hero worth rooting for, <i>The Hateful Eight</i> covers similar terrain while offering no clear protagonist. True to the film's title, everyone onscreen is a despicable scoundrel. This gives the film a bracingly nasty charge. There's a resonant critique of the way prejudice can lead to resentment and violence to be found within the film's caustic bitterness, and Tarantino's visual mastery (in 70mm!) and flavorful dialogue remain viciously on-point.<br />
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And here are the next ten runners-up:<br />
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<b>11. <i>Creed</i> (Ryan Coogler). </b>The rise of Adonis Creed (a brooding yet accessible Michael B. Jordan), the son of the previous <i>Rocky</i> film's champ Apollo Creed, into a boxing force all his own is detailed by Coogler with so much grounded human nuance as to make the film's crowd-pleasing finish that much more rousing. Sylvester Stallone's return to the Rocky character is a remarkably touching and graceful career high point.<br />
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<b>12. <i>45 Years </i>(Andrew Haigh).</b> As a woman who discovers her soulmate of the last four-plus decades (the great Tom Courtenay) may actually be something of a stranger to her, Charlotte Rampling gives arguably the year's most magnificently controlled and subtly powerful performance. Haigh writes and directs with impressive, unfussy precision, cementing his status as one of the more perceptive chroniclers of complicated romances to come around in a while.<br />
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<b>13. <i>Trainwreck</i> (Judd Apatow). </b>Writer and star Amy Schumer's TV-sketch-honed gift for crafting clever scenarios of cheeky sexual candor marries perfectly with Apatow's goofy/sweet humanism in creating a refreshingly sharp romantic comedy that's hilarious, affecting, and wise about navigating the treacherous waters of commitment.<br />
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<b>14. <i>Inside Out</i> (Pete Docter). </b>Pixar Animation Studios' ability to bring lovingly detailed worlds to eye-popping visual life is evident once again in <i>Inside Out</i>, which renders the mind of an 11-year-old girl in crisis as an imaginatively conceived environment populated by anthropomorphic emotions and personality-defining islands. With occasionally heart-stopping poignance and a bevy of ingenious throwaway gags, the film admirably argues for the necessity of both joy and sadness in life.<br />
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<b>15. <i>The Mend</i> (John Magary). </b>A portrait of fraternal dysfunction and drunken assholery graced with amusingly profane wit and vivid filmmaking that swings from the authentic to the operatic, <i>The Mend</i> is an audacious dark comedy that marks Magary as a talent to watch. As a mischievous fuck-up who takes up uninvited residence in his estranged brother's apartment, Josh Lucas is a wild, impish revelation; casting off the shackles of his bland-studio-romantic-comedy past works wonders for him.<br />
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<b>16. <i>Mission: Impossible -- Rogue Nation</i> (Christopher McQuarrie).</b> Intrepid IMF-agent hero Ethan Hunt's ambiguous dance with Ilsa Faust (formidable series newcomer Rebecca Ferguson), an MI6 agent who may or may not be working with the evil Syndicate, gives this installment in the remarkably consistent <i>Mission: Impossible</i> franchise the same hesitant spy-world romanticism of Roger Moore's best James Bond outing, <i>The Spy Who Loved Me</i>. All the action sequences stun, with the standout being an elegant, Hitchcockian face-off at a Viennese opera house.<br />
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<b>17. <i>Chi-Raq</i> (Spike Lee).</b> Lee has never been a filmmaker interested in muting his anger, and the outrage that animates <i>Chi-Raq</i>, an alternately bawdy and mournful quasi-musical that tackles America's gun-violence epidemic with bold bluntness, has a blistering forcefulness. That fury lends coherence to the film's shifts from smutty sex gags to elaborate dance numbers to impassioned eulogies. As with much of Lee's best work, it brims over with emotion, ambition, and cinematic invention.<br />
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<b>18. <i>Sicario</i> (Denis Villeneuve).</b> A tightly coiled, moody thriller that smartly doubles as a cynical lament for the loss of ethics in the War on Drugs waged along the U.S./Mexico border, <i>Sicario</i> is the film that matches Villeneuve's well-honed stylistic control with the meaty substance that his earlier, good-but-flawed work has lacked to some degree. Emily Blunt is sympathetic yet unsentimental as the film's moral center, while Benicio Del Toro is rivetingly enigmatic as a more ruthless operative.<br />
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<b>19. <i>Call Me Lucky</i> (Bobcat Goldthwait). </b>I didn't really know anything about Barry Crimmins, the stand-up comedian at the center of this documentary, before seeing it, which turned out to be ideal. At a certain point, <i>Call Me Lucky</i> shifts from being a life-of-a-comic trifle to an incredibly moving testament to the human ability to productively transform trauma into the basis for comedy and social activism. A former stand-up himself, Goldthwait has become a unique, fascinating comedy auteur, and the emotional gut punch he delivers here makes it his best film yet.<br />
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<b>20. <i>Bridge of Spies</i> (Steven Spielberg). </b>34 years after <i>E.T.</i>, Spielberg is still making compassionate studies of protagonists adrift in far-from-home environments--even when they're in the guise of a Cold War moral thriller, as with <i>Bridge of Spies</i>. Paralleling a Russian spy's (the masterful Mark Rylance) imprisonment in the U.S. with an American negotiator's (Tom Hanks, a reliably sly Everyman) dislocation when he travels to Germany to hammer out a prisoner swap, the film is a rich, empathetic, gorgeously crafted adult entertainment.<br />
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And here are nine more great 2015 releases:<br />
<b>21. <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i> (J.J. Abrams).</b><br />
<b>22. <i>Mississippi Grind </i>(Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck).</b><br />
<b>23. <i>Spy </i>(Paul Feig).</b><br />
<b>24. <i>Spectre</i> (Sam Mendes).</b><br />
<b>25. <i>Furious 7</i> (James Wan).</b><br />
<b>26. <i>While We're Young</i> (Noah Baumbach).</b><br />
<b>27. <i>Blackhat</i> (Michael Mann).</b><br />
<b>28. <i>Love & Mercy</i> (Bill Pohlad).</b><br />
<b>29. <i>Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief </i>(Alex Gibney).</b>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-28033547276108163992015-02-21T12:55:00.000-08:002015-02-21T13:06:43.344-08:00The Best Films of 2014The filmmakers who defined the American independent film boom of the late '80s and '90s electrified audiences with their daring, idiosyncratic approach to style and narrative. But these days, with mainstream crowds clamoring for big-budget superhero larks and critics typically hyping Cannes-minted international auteurs, is there any room for the pioneers of the American indie movement to draw attention to their contemporary work?<br />
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The movie year of 2014 answers that question with a resounding, encouraging "yes." Directors who precociously asserted themselves in the indie-boom era positively fluorished. Texas-born iconoclasts Richard Linklater (<em>Boyhood</em>) and Wes Anderson (<em>The Grand Budapest Hotel</em>) became bona fide Oscar darlings. Documentarian Steve James paid affectionate tribute to a critic who was pivotal in getting his landmark '90s non-fiction chronicle <em>Hoop Dreams</em> to the masses with the Roger Ebert portrait <em>Life Itself</em>. Neo-classicist James Gray's latest, <em>The Immigrant</em>, played to sold-out crowds in its first weekend in Los Angeles in spite of distributor Harvey Weinstein's loathsome attempt to bury it. (Weinstein reportedly wanted Gray to cut the merely two-hour-long film, and Gray wouldn't oblige.) Either most or least audaciously, depending on one's perspective, Doug Liman and Bryan Singer succeeded within the system, making studio tentpoles defined by layered storytelling and progressive themes--Liman with <em>Edge of Tomorrow</em>, and Singer with the Marvel sequel <em>X-Men: Days of Future Past</em>. And while the indie movement's hippest founder, Jim Jarmusch, may not have found either box-office or Oscar success with his vampire romance <em>Only Lovers Left Alive</em>, the film still inspired the kind of passion within critics and the director's fans to ensure a longevity comparable to its protagonists' immortal existence.<br />
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As it happens, my list of the ten best films of the year is topped by a singular comedy that poignantly speaks to the lasting power of art, from a '90s-indie-scene fixture who last scored a #1 placement on my annual lists with 2001's <em>The Royal Tenenbaums</em>:<br />
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<strong>1. <em>The Grand Budapest Hotel</em> (Wes Anderson). </strong>Using an ingenious nesting-doll narrative structure, Anderson begins his simultaneously jaunty and melancholy wonder of a movie with the young fan of a noted, deceased novelist (Tom Wilkinson) visiting the novelist's gravesite to pay her respects. One of the novelist's works essentially becomes the movie we're watching, and it's to Anderson's great credit that he's crafted a story that fully earns this meta suggestion that it has the resonant power to endure beyond its creator's grave. When fussy, eccentric Gustave (played with absolute mastery by Ralph Fiennes, who can turn on a dime from the character's elegant poise to his eruptions of hissyfit rage), the concierge of a fictional European country's most posh hotel, enlists the help of dedicated lobby boy Zero (sweet and deadpan Tony Revolori) to claim an inheritance that the deceased's evil clan aim to keep from him, the farcical adventure yarn that follows zips along with giddy energy and imagination. But it's Anderson's reflection on what can and what can't be ravaged by time that gives <em>The Grand Budapest Hotel</em> its lasting, surprisingly emotional power. The titular resort, grandly designed by Anderson and production designer Adam Stockhausen, may decay as time passes, but the cultural-boundary-crossing friendship that blossoms between Gustave and Zero, who hails from the war-torn Third World, is a bond that neither time nor the fascist forces that flood Zubrowka can touch. Love fluorishes in the face of war--and so too does great art.<br />
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<strong>2. <em>Nymphomaniac</em></strong> <strong>(Lars von Trier).</strong> Honoring the brain as the body's biggest sensory organ, von Trier's wildly ambitious--and just plain wild--magnum opus targets the intellect rather than the libido. Perhaps that's why <em>Nymphomaniac</em> has proven to be so divisive, but for anyone who treasures an investigation of human sexuality's connection to morality, music, philosophy, religion, and, yes, fly fishing over titillating kicks, the film is a dizzyingly rich cinematic feast. The sheer density of <em>Nymphomaniac</em>'s stylistic and narrative digressions makes it understandable that the film's American distributor split it into two separate volumes, released independently of each other, but make no mistake--this is one movie, a giant and unforgettable one. As guilt-stricken nymphomaniac Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg, even more nuanced than she is fearless) relays her erotic history to moral relativist Seligman (Stellan Skarsgard, an ideal onscreen listener), it's tempting to read the exchange on one level as von Trier, whose career-long depictions of suffering women never fail to polarize, self-reflexively interrogating his own moral assumptions of recklessly carnal women. However, such a reading neglects the obvious, unambigous affection that von Trier has for Joe. Right down to its blunt avenging-angel coda, <em>Nymphomaniac</em> is a heady, exhilarating epic about a woman who triumphantly maintains her sense of self and control over her own story even while caught in the throes of addiction.<br />
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<strong>3. <em>Boyhood </em>(Richard Linklater). </strong>Arguably no contemporary filmmaker has experimented with time more fruitfully than Linklater, as in his nine-years-between-series-entries <em>Before</em> trilogy. So leave it to him to craft a 12-years-in-the-making chronicle of a boy's (Ellar Coltrane) growth from childhood to young adulthood and make it feel not just effortless, but piercingly honest and emotionally profound. We get to know Mason, the boy, and his family so well that they feel more like acquaintances than movie characters. Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke turn in career-best performances as Mason's parents--a mother whose intelligence outshines a series of cretinous suitors, and a father whose natural warmth ultimately triumphs over his rascally immaturity. Like all of Linklater's best films, <em>Boyhood </em>is charmingly modest and low-key, yet what it achieves feels momentous--like nothing less than life unfolding before our eyes.<br />
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<strong>4. <em>Selma </em>(Ava DuVernay). </strong>What makes Steven Spielberg's <em>Lincoln</em> and Gus Van Sant's <em>Milk</em> so much richer than the majority of period pieces focusing on American history is their rejection of standard biopic formula in favor of a nuts-and-bolts look at the intricate, difficult process of enacting social change in this country. <em>Selma</em>, which depicts the Martin Luther King Jr.-led protests that paved the way for the Voting Rights Act of 1965, is only DuVernay's third film, and yet it merits comparison to those two docudramas from seasoned masters. What's more, it has a fire in its belly all its own--a burning passion that all but turns the screen to ashes. That palpable crusading spirit suits a story that, despite the period trappings, is depressingly timely. DuVernay and writer Paul Webb's meticulous portrait of an America institutionally rigged to keep its white citizens in power and its black citizens disenfranchised speaks provocatively to the present and the future as surely as it does to the past. As King, David Oyelowo is both majestic and touchingly vulnerable--a born leader weighed down by the psychic toll of the bloody sacrifice it takes to win the war of human equality.<br />
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<strong>5. <em>Whiplash </em>(Damien Chazelle). </strong>So organic in its storytelling it feels plucked from the ether fully formed rather than written into existence, <em>Whiplash </em>turns the seemingly simple tale of a drumming student's (Miles Teller) trial-by-fire via the tutelage of a psychotically demanding music teacher (J.K. Simmons) into a complex and continually surprising study of what it takes to achieve true artistic greatness. Chazelle and editor Tom Cross make beautiful music of their own with their precise, dynamic cutting, building in intensity to a breathtaking finale that practically demands a standing ovation--and earns it, too. Teller confirms his status as one of the most refreshingly authentic young actors around, but the movie belongs to the ferocious yet controlled Simmons, whose Fletcher is as riveting a barking-mad monster as Ben Kingsley's underworld Mephistopholes in <em>Sexy Beast</em> and R. Lee Ermey's high-decibel drill instructor in <em>Full Metal Jacket</em>.<br />
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<strong>6. <em>Only Lovers Left Alive </em>(Jim Jarmusch).</strong> The vampire lovers at the center of the utterly hypnotic <em>Only Lovers Left Alive</em>, played with elegance by the perfectly paired Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston, are weary of the small-minded failings of the mortals they must exist with. What keeps them from giving up on the human race entirely is their deep appreciation of the great art and music that non-bloodsuckers occasionally turn out--they're even Jack White fans! The genius of the film they occupy the center of is that it adopts this worldview too; as dryly cynical as it often seems, it can't help but surrender to a hopeful romanticism. Jarmusch makes it such a soothing soak in pure, intoxicating style that it's clear he shares his protagonists' love of aesthetic pleasure. The flow of beautiful images and entrancing music is so continous that it's possible to have a different subjective experience with the film each time you see it. And Swinton and Hiddleston, who exude the comfortable affection of partners who've known each other for centuries, provide the perfect (in-)human core for Jarmusch to work his visual and aural magic around.<br />
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<strong>7. <em>Gone Girl </em>(David Fincher). </strong>Unlike Jarmusch, Fincher isn't a director prone to tempering his cynicism with detectable doses of romanticism, which makes him an ideal fit for writer Gillian Flynn's scathing, witty portrait of marital combatants who use the tabloid mediascape as their battleground. As savvy with subtext as he is with technique, Fincher critiques the human tendency to build perceptions of other people, even loved ones, around tidy, self-serving narratives--narratives that may turn out to be far from the truth. Flynn keeps the shocking twists and the icily clever banter coming. The ensemble cast is one of the year's most purely enjoyable to witness, with Carrie Coon, Tyler Perry (!), Kim Dickens, Neil Patrick Harris, and Patrick Fugit all turning in memorable supporting work. Occupying the film's central ethically soiled marital bed is a shrewdly self-parodying Ben Affleck and, most importantly, the formidable Rosamund Pike, who dons several different masks with a dazzling range and charisma that almost makes you root for her Amy in spite of yourself. Considering that Fincher has been called a modern heir to Hitchcock's studio-master-misanthrope throne, it's tempting to call Pike a sharper-fanged Grace Kelly.<br />
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<strong>8. <em>Snowpiercer </em>(Bong Joon-ho)</strong> Set in a dystopian future where survivors are divided by class into separate train cars hurtling over an icy wasteland, <em>Snowpiercer </em>mixes wildly imaginative sci-fi spectacle with pointed social commentary so forcefully and seamlessly that it recalls the instant-genre-classic impact of <em>The Matrix</em>. Korean visionary Bong's distinctively dark, perverse voice (check out his excellent monster movie <em>The Host</em> if you haven't yet) survives the translation to an English-language project thrillingly intact, and he brings the self-contained worlds of each individual train car to eye-popping life. Tilda Swinton, making her third appearance on this list (!), is brilliantly daft as the evil enforcer of the train's rigid social order. Watching the film's heroes, led by Chris Evans' Curtis, fight to overthrow that unjust social order makes the film a rousing experience--a movie set on a moving vehicle that can genuinely be called a wild ride.<br />
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<strong>9. <em>How to Train Your Dragon 2 </em>(Dean DeBlois). </strong>The <em>How to Train Your Dragon</em> series has been like a beautiful rose growing in the creatively sludgy swamp of DreamWorks Animation, and what's strikingly impressive about <em>How to Train Your Dragon 2</em> is the way in which it feels at once both more epic and more intimate than its great predecessor. DeBlois takes gangly young hero Hiccup (voiced by Jay Baruchel) and his loyal, ridiculously adorable dragon Toothless beyond their home of Berk, to magnificently imagined new realms, including a wild-dragon sanctuary where the beasts fly around in a gorgeous riot of primary colors. But just as much work has gone into the emotional shading of the unique family reunion at the movie's core--Hiccup; his alpha-macho father (Gerard Butler); and his long-lost mother (Cate Blanchett, as flawless in her vocal work as she is at in-the-flesh roles), who abandoned her husband years ago to become a sort of Jane Goodall of the dragon world. The movie's suggestion that the "feminine"-coded sensitivity that Hiccup inherited from his mom grants him the potential to be a better leader of Berk than his masculine warmonger dad is thoughtful, subversive stuff for animated fare, but it's also not surprising coming from a series that has covertly become one of the contemporary studio system's most impassioned pleas for pacifism and universal compassion.<br />
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<strong>10. <em>The Immigrant</em> (James Gray). </strong>Gray's milieu has always been the tight-knit Jewish neighborhoods of New York City, so his sublimely moving 1920s-set melodrama <em>The Immigrant</em> feels in a way like an origin story. It depicts the generation that arrived at Ellis Island from far-away countries and struggled to find footing in the teeming city, paving the way for the later generations that populate the films Gray made before this one. Gray and supremely gifted director of photography Darius Khondji give the film a dark, burnished glow influenced by the similarly immigrant-experience-centered De Niro section of <em>The Godfather Part II</em>, and they certainly know the value of what Marion Cotillard can bring to an exquisitely framed close-up. Cotillard's Ewa arrives to New York from Poland determined to make a better life for her and her sister, and the actress' expressive eyes convey the strength that pushes Ewa through the indignities she suffers in the alleged land of promise she's arrived at. (Cotillard had quite a year, offering another stunning portrait of resilience in the Dardennes' <em>Two Days, One Night</em>.) As Bruno, who becomes both pimp and protector to Ewa, Joaquin Phoenix reveals the raw, naked humanity of a man forced into brutishness by the wheels of capitalism. Bruno's true feelings for Ewa come pouring out in a devastating final scene guaranteed to haunt the viewer long after the credits roll.<br />
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And here are the next 10 runners-up, with abbreviated capsules:<br />
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<strong>11. <em>Mr. Turner</em> (Mike Leigh). </strong>Leigh's work is an acquired taste I've only started acquiring in recent years, and the beautifully detailed J.M.W. Turner biopic <em>Mr. Turner</em> makes me glad I've come around. Leigh's method of cooking up scripts via improv sessions with his actors grants a funky, lived-in humanity to this riff on the artistic personality and the artist's role in society. Humor and emotion arrive in small, authentic bursts, like brush strokes. As Turner, the glorious Timothy Spall provides an acting master class.<br />
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<strong>12. <em>Life Itself</em> (Steve James)</strong>. Anyone can make a documentary that builds a case for Roger Ebert as a great film critic. James went the extra mile and illustrated through the immensely cathartic <em>Life Itself</em> what made Ebert a great man, dedicated to his family and fans, committed to his calling till the very end, and ever-eager to do whatever he could to give rising filmmakers (such as <em>Selma</em>'s DuVernay, interviewed here) the spotlight they need to move their careers forward. Ebert's death was a major emotional blow for me, and this film provides the best kind of closure: an inspiring celebration.<br />
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<strong>13. <em>The Raid 2</em></strong> <strong>(Gareth Evans). </strong>For the sequel to the thrilling single-setting action pressure-cooker <em>The Raid</em>, Evans takes to a bigger, more epic canvas with the infectious enthusiasm of a child at play. A hybrid of <em>The Departed</em>'s undercover intrigue and Sergio Leone's grand-scale Westerns focused on warring good, bad, and ugly factions, <em>The Raid 2</em> is a genre-movie geek's dream, culminating in a ferocious, beautifully choreographed mano-a-mano kitchen brawl that's truly a thing of brutal beauty.<br />
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<strong>14. <em>The Case Against 8 </em>(Ben Cotner & Ryan White).</strong> When Proposition 8, which defines marriage as being only a heterosexual union between a man and a woman, was passed in California, it was truly a depressing, shameful time for the state. That makes <em>The Case Against 8</em>, which details two same-sex couples' triumphant attempt to overturn Prop 8 as unconstitutional, a light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel source of joyous inspiration. This documentary refuses to lazily preach to the choir, and is especially complex and rewarding in depicting right-wing Bush supporter Ted Olson as an unlikely hero--a lawyer who came to the couples' defense and who defines himself as a staunchly anti-homophobia Republican. Any film that proves that phrase not to be an oxymoron is one possessed of a very special humanity.<br />
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<strong>15. <em>Get On Up </em>(Tate Taylor).</strong> Taking its artistic cues more from Todd Haynes' masterfully abstract Bob Dylan portrait <em>I'm Not There</em> than from mainstream-friendly biopics like <em>Ray</em> and <em>Walk the Line</em>, <em>Get On Up</em> conveys James Brown's rise from a childhood of abuse and prejudice to his reign as the strutting Godfather of Soul in impressionistic, non-chronological fragments that flow with gorgeous fluidity and stream-of-consciousness psychological clarity. As Brown, Chadwick Boseman gives the year's most sadly under-recognized performance--an effortless embodiment of the musical icon that shines with charisma and reveals the vulnerability underneath the peacocking exterior.<br />
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<strong>16. <em>Edge of Tomorrow </em>(Doug Liman). </strong>Warner Bros. didn't market this simultaneously brainy and spectacular sci-fi yarn particularly well, eventually resulting in a disastrous attempt to re-title the film <em>Live. Die. Repeat.</em> for DVD release. But the upside is that viewers discovering <em>Edge of Tomorrow</em> can be surprised by the many inventive variations on the <em>Groundhog Day</em>-esque premise of a reluctant warrior (Tom Cruise) re-living the same day repeatedly in order to win a war against sentient machines that writers Christopher McQuarrie and Jez & John-Henry Butterworth have cooked up; at least the ho-hum trailer didn't give them all away. Making the female lead (Emily Blunt) a fierce fighter while Cruise's military flack is essentially a cowardly wuss is a fun subversion that Cruise and Blunt, both in full-wattage star mode, really go to town with.<br />
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<strong>17. <em>The Lego Movie </em>(Phil Lord & Chris Miller). </strong>It's rare that a studio entertainment bites the hand that feeds while maintaining an essentially sweet-natured disposition, but the layered playfulness of the giddy, gag-every-second <em>The Lego Movie</em> achieves just that. Lord & Miller are undeniably talented postmodern jokesters who can be hit-and-miss for me, but this is the best distillation yet of their alternately silly and satiric absurdity. They've made a vividly colorful lark anarchic enough to question the conformist mentality of the corporation that provide's the movie's title and building blocks, yet sincere enough to act as a hymn to how creativity can pass from one generation to the next.<br />
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<strong>18. <em>John Wick </em>(Chad Stahelski & David Leitch). </strong>Keanu Reeves, in full command of his brooding charisma, dispatches with the goons who killed his heartbreakingly cute puppy in a series of long takes that render the action as vicious dances. So <em>of fucking course</em> this makes my top 20.<br />
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<strong>19. <em>Listen Up Philip</em> (Alex Ross Perry). </strong>Fans of erudite New York wits Woody Allen and Noah Baumbach will love the delicious verbal sharpness of <em>Listen Up Philip</em>, though be warned: this character study of an arrogant novelist (Jason Schwartzman, hilariously tart) drips with even more bile than, say, <em>Husbands and Wives</em> or <em>Margot at the Wedding</em>. But like those films, this contains the highest-grade acid, spewed from the expert tongues of Schwartzman, Jonathan Pryce, and the cast's true standout, a marvelously seething Elisabeth Moss.<br />
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<strong>20. <em>Wild Tales </em>(Damian Szifron). </strong>In the wrong hands, the subject of class warfare in Argentina could become fodder for a <em>Crash</em>-like sermon. But in the hands of Szifron, who announces himself as a directorial talent to be reckoned with, the topic forms the basis for an audacious, darkly comic anthology film made up of sketches that pack a savage bite. <em>Wild Tales</em> throbs with an energy and unpredictability that reawaken one's appetite for cinema that feels truly <em>alive</em> in its kicking-and-screaming unruliness.<br />
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And here are the year's remaining standouts, ranked in loose preferential order:<br />
<strong>21. <em>Captain America: The Winter Soldier </em>(Anthony & Joe Russo). </strong><br />
<strong>22. <em>Stranger By The Lake </em>(Alan Guiraudie).</strong><br />
<strong>23. <em>The Guest </em>(Adam Wingard).</strong><br />
<strong>24. <em>Bird People</em> (Pascale Ferran).</strong><br />
<strong>25. <em>Le Week-End </em>(Roger Michell).</strong><br />
<strong>26. <em>X-Men: Days of Future Past </em>(Bryan Singer).</strong><br />
<strong>27. <em>A Most Violent Year </em>(J.C. Chandor).</strong><br />
<strong>28. <em>Foxcatcher </em>(Bennett Miller).</strong><br />
<strong>29. <em>Obvious Child</em> (Gillian Robespierre).</strong><br />
<strong>30. <em>The Babadook </em>(Jennifer Kent).</strong><br />
<strong>31. <em>A Most Wanted Man </em>(Anton Corbijn).</strong><br />
<strong>32. <em>The Homesman </em>(Tommy Lee Jones).</strong><br />
<strong>33. <em>Like Father, Like Son </em>(Hirokazu Kore-eda).</strong><br />
<br />Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-79569041722507488522014-02-21T12:55:00.001-08:002014-02-21T13:20:34.006-08:00The Best Films of 2013On the surface, 2013 as a year in movies appears to offer nothing to quarrel about. The sheer abundance of great films released throughout the year has inspired many critics and list-makers to hail 2013 as the most exceptional year for movies since at least 2007, and arguably since 1999. Those fond of criticizing the Academy Awards for favoring populist "message movies" will find no <em>The Blind Side</em> equivalent among the Academy's nine nominees for Best Picture this year, and they'll even find on that list a few idiosyncratic critical darlings that didn't catch on with the wider public (<em>Her</em>, <em>Nebraska</em>). And a high number of the movies that did click with ticket-buying masses, including <em>Gravity</em>, <em>Frozen</em>, and <em>The Hunger Games: Catching Fire</em>, delivered gratifyingly strong female protagonists and convention-skewering narrative choices.<br />
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But in this seeming void of cinematic matters to rationally complain about, cinephile skirmishes still dominated social-media sites. The so-problematic-it's-comical motivations for these online quarrels only served to strengthen the notion that the movie year offered little to really fight over. Certain fans of director Martin Scorsese's satirically vicious <em>The Wolf of Wall Street</em> attacked partisans of David O. Russell's somewhat-Scorsese-influenced humanist caper <em>American Hustle</em>, and vice versa; lost in the nonsensical debate was the acknowledgment that history is filled with both cold-blooded and warm-hearted great movies. Similarly, those who pitted the backstory-heavy <em>Gravity</em> against the audaciously spare <em>All Is Lost</em> failed to realize the simple value of having two impeccably made survival stories that take such wildly divergent storytelling approaches in theatres at the same time.<br />
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So if 2013 is to be remembered as a year of bickering, let it be for those squabbles that transpired onscreen rather than those that took place between Twitter pals offscreen. After all, it was an unusually strong year for portrayals of the kind of arguments so wounding they can only happen between people who love each other. <em>American Hustle</em>, <em>Before Midnight</em>, <em>Blue Jasmine</em>, <em>Laurence Anyways</em>, <em>The Wolf of Wall Street</em>, <em>Blue Is The Warmest Color</em>, and the ineligible-if-still-plenty-cinematic HBO film <em>Behind the Candelabra</em> all featured stinging domestic disputes that recall the work of director Mike Nichols, the master of heated romantic conflicts. One can only hope that Nichols, who hasn't worked in six years, will take this proliferation of lovers' battles as a thrown-down gauntlet.<br />
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Speaking of thrown-down gauntlets, here is my list of the ten best films of 2013:<br />
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<strong>1. <em>Inside Llewyn Davis </em>(Joel and Ethan Coen). </strong>The greatest living American filmmaker is not a lone individual but a pair of brothers whose rich, comic, multi-faceted glimpses into the country's psyche demand repeat viewings to excavate their tricky layers of meaning. At first glance, <em>Inside Llewyn Davis</em>, the Coen Brothers' ballad of a prickly folk musician (Oscar Isaac, in a flawless, low-key bit of character inhabitation that effectively erases his frankly awful <em>Sucker Punch</em> scenery-chewing from memory) chasing a success in early-'60s New York that constantly eludes him, is already formidable--a funny and melancholy life-as-a-cosmic-joke character study in the <em>Barton Fink</em> and <em>A Serious Man</em> mold, yet more relatively naturalistic than one would expect from the normally artifice-embracing Coens. A second viewing reveals the reasoning--and the genius--behind the removal of distancting effects: to plug the viewer into the aching pain of a man whose response to a recent tragedy (the specific nature of which isn't revealed until late in the game, in sly Coen fashion) is to shut out all meaningful human (and feline) connections in his life and reveal his feelings only to the scattered strangers who see him musically pour his heart out on coffee-shop stages. <em>Inside Llewyn Davis</em> belongs to a great tradition of contemporary musicals--<em>Once</em> and Tim Burton's <em>Sweeney Todd</em> are two other examples--that allow their songs to play out at full length and that aren't so much interested in making you feel "good" as they are in making you feel their characters' tangled emotions. In its cryptic way, this resonant masterwork refuses to provide hard answers to the questions of art and commerce that lie at its core, but its existence is proof enough that a dark, sad, and strange work of art has the power to connect.<br />
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<strong>2. <em>The Wolf of Wall Street </em>(Martin Scorsese).</strong> Fairly late into <em>The Wolf of Wall Street</em>, the savage, wildly energetic chronicle of real-life stockbroker Jordan Belfort's (Leonardo DiCaprio) efforts to swindle others in order to feed his ever-expanding appetites for drugs, booze, and hookers, the film mischievously switches form into a consumer-grade-camera-shot infomercial for Belfort's "Straight Line" get-rich-quick seminars. The style, along with Belfort's practiced patter, is designed for maximum consumer pacification, until Scorsese masterfully disrupts the infomercial's slick appeal by having a squad of FBI agents run into frame and apprehend Belfort, knocking the cheap camera down in the process. This sequence so clearly and cleverly lays bare Scorsese and writer Terence Winter's view of Belfort as a charismatic bullshit artist trying his best to bury the illegality and toxicity of his practices with savvy manipulation of his marks as to render anyone who accuses the film of valorizing Belfort as not just foolish, but possibly cine-illiterate. <em>The Wolf of Wall Street</em> is entertaining to a pointedly "addictive" degree, its three hours of profane hilarity, bling-y style, and timeline-shuffling editing wizardry (courtesy of the peerless, mystifyingly Oscar-snubbed Thelma Schoonmaker) leaving one begging for even more. Its drive to entertain is therefore inextricable from its satiric rage--it's a long, exhilarating scream of an epic. Throwing himself into the high-decibel fray with magnetic abandon, DiCaprio delivers a limber, unforgettable star turn that gives both Belfort's essential scumminess and his messianic ability to rally his debauched troops a high-voltage excitement and a warts-and-all honesty.<br />
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<strong>3. <em>Gravity</em> (Alfonso Cuaron).</strong> With his boundless imagination and gift for graceful, fluidly immersive long takes, Cuaron is the ideal visionary to create an outer-space-set adventure that you don't see so much as <em>experience</em> in a transporting, sensory-engulfing way. That's exactly what he's pulled off with the spectacular <em>Gravity</em>, aided immeasurably by director of photography Emmanuel Lubezki and army of specialists in visual and sonic effects. It's a movie you all but float around in, especially when viewed in IMAX 3D. At the same time, though, Cuaron is a touchingly sincere poet whose interest in characters struggling to cling to hope in seemingly hopeless circumstances has united films as superficially diverse as <em>Y Tu Mama Tambien</em> and <em>Children of Men</em>. So while <em>Gravity</em> is a hell of a suspenseful and awe-inspiring ride, it's also a moving portrait of a grief-stricken woman who's given up on life forced into a situation where the choice to survive is neither an idle nor an easy one to make. That woman, Dr. Ryan Stone, is played by Sandra Bullock in a career-best performance defined by haunted eyes, frayed nerves, and eventually a primal resilience. <em>Gravity</em> is the kind of movie that feels like a full-on journey, and watching Bullock bring Dr. Stone's arc to emotional life makes it a very rousing one.<br />
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<strong>4. <em>American Hustle</em> (David O. Russell). </strong>The <em>GoodFellas</em>-esque camera swirls and '70s rock favorites on the soundtrack are obviously what have led some champions and many detractors of <em>American Hustle</em> to pinpoint Martin Scorsese as the key influence on Russell's film. But I'd argue that Russell is really offering his own neurotic-screwball take on the kind of romantic-yet-cynical, character-driven studio entertainments that the great Billy Wilder used to specialize in--love stories where the sheer amount of characters lying or prostituting themselves injects a harsh bitterness that balances out the underlying sweetness of the narrative arc. Also like Wilder, Russell delights in the simple pleasure of getting people in a room and giving them plenty of spiky, witty dialogue to hurl at each other. The staggering quality of the cast--Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence, and Jeremy Renner, all at the top of their game--ensures that every possible permutation of that people-in-a-room arrangement yields equally dazzling interpersonal fireworks. An affectionately candid acknowledgement of the messy romantic and sexual entanglements that can sometimes invisibly cause the wheels of law enforcement and politics to turn, <em>American Hustle</em> is the reliable Russell's richest and most ambitious achievement since his 1999 Gulf War comedy <em>Three Kings</em>. <br />
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<strong>5. <em>12 Years A Slave </em>(Steve McQueen). </strong>The story of Solomon Northup, an African-American concert violinist living as a free man in the North until he's kidnapped and sold into slavery in the American South of 1841, could've easily fallen into the trap that so many well-intentioned but dramatically flaccid prestige pictures plummet into of defining its protagonist as a noble but essentially passive victim. Instead, as written by John Ridley and as played with searing urgency and power by Chiwetel Ejiofor, Solomon is active, resourceful, and impassioned--a man desperate to assert his identity in a monstrous system that insists he sacrifice it. McQueen and Ridley use Solomon's forced entry into the plantation economy of the South to provide a newcomer's point-of-view of an unjust society that bears an uncomfortable resemblance to our own: one plantation owner (Benedict Cumberbatch) is a compassionate liberal too spineless to enact positive change, while another (Michael Fassbender, chilling yet recognizably human) is an abusive Bible-thumper whose manipulative wife (the perpetually underrated Sarah Paulson, summoning an icy bitterness) uses the slaves as pawns in the game-playing of her fading marriage. McQueen never loses sight of this contemporary resonance even as he brings the period setting to life with evocative specificity, and he organically weds the Kubrickian rigor of his earlier films <em>Hunger</em> and <em>Shame </em>to a more robust, conventional narrative. <em>12 Years A Slave</em> builds to a conclusion that is emotionally pulverizing in its catharsis; the phrase "there wasn't a dry eye in the house" feels fully earned.<br />
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<strong>6. <em>Before Midnight</em> (Richard Linklater). </strong>The hopefulness of <em>Before Sunrise</em> and its more regret-soaked follow-up <em>Before Sunset</em> thrived on the tension of the audience knowing that lovers Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) should spend their lives together without the characters themselves having figured that out yet. <em>Before Midnight</em>, the third film in Linklater's luminous, observant trilogy, audaciously begins with the revelation that Jesse and Celine have been living together as a couple for nine years. In realistic fashion, the unconsummated hunger these two felt in the earlier films has been replaced by a cozy familiarity and, more bracingly, the accumulation of simmering resentments. The resentments--authentically centered on kids, conflicting career goals, an ex-wife--come to a full boil in a climactic hotel-room argument rendered with a more lethal version of the dazzling verbal density that writers Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy have established as a defining trait of the trilogy. But the lovely trick of <em>Before Midnight</em> is that for all its painful honesty, it still manages to be as blissfully romantic as its predecessors. The relaxed beauty with which Linklater captures Greece, Hawke and Delpy's undimmed chemistry, a final romantic plea made at a seaside cafe--it's all swoon-worthy, even in a film complex enough that real love isn't entirely about the swooning.<br />
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<strong>7. <em>Rush </em>(Ron Howard). </strong>Sports movies too often fail to convey the passion and commitment of athletic competition to the unconverted--a camp I must honestly admit I belong in. However, that's certainly not the case with the dynamic, surprisingly affecting <em>Rush</em>, a seamless merging of spectacle and character psychology that centers on the Formula One racing rivalry between James Hunt (Chris Hemsworth) and Niki Lauda (Daniel Bruhl). Hunt thrives on the adrenaline of a profession that brings him close to death, like the protagonist of a Kathryn Bigelow or Michael Mann film, while the anti-social Lauda approaches racing with the unyielding perfectionism of a never-satisfied artist. Both racers' devotion is portrayed with an accessible universality, and the hostile, shit-talking competitiveness of their relationship is built on a foundation of mutual admiration, making this a platonic love story played in a macho key. Hemsworth shores up his swaggering charisma with real depth, but it's Bruhl, in one of the year's most enjoyably detailed performances, who steals the movie. Howard's direction exhibits a restless, feisty energy, especially in the thrilling racing sequences, that has too seldom been tapped in his career, while writer Peter Morgan, who previously collaborated with Howard on the similarly excellent <em>Frost</em>/<em>Nixon</em>, demonstrates a flair for salty, off-the-track taunting. Like the heroes of their movie, these filmmaking collaborators bring out the best in each other.<br />
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<strong>8. <em>The Wind Rises </em>(Hayao Miyazaki). </strong>There's no denying Miyazaki's gift for animated images that glow with a pristine, painterly beauty, and the surreal dream-logic of his narratives springs from a playful imagination. But with a couple exceptions, his earlier films (<em>Princess Mononoke</em>, <em>Ponyo</em>) prioritized down-the-rabbit-hole strangeness at the expense of emotional engagement. That tendency is nowhere to be found in the rapturous, moving <em>The Wind Rises</em>, which finds Miyazaki trying his hand at the animated equivalent of the kind of sweeping historical epic commonly associated with David Lean and Steven Spielberg. Miraculously, he manages to reach the creative heights scaled by those masterful forebears. Miyazaki wisely doesn't abandon his pet theme of dreams; his protagonist, Jiro, loses himself in fantasy visions of flying. But as Jiro abandons hope of becoming a pilot due to his near-sightedness and instead pursues his revised dream of being an aeronautical engineer, Miyazaki grounds this dreamer's journey with a wealth of rich ideas and narrative strands--a touchingly delicate romance; an artistic-procedural-style immersion in the details of Jiro's plane designs; a portrait of Japan caught in the sea change of tradition transitioning to modernity; a consideration of the sad irony of Jiro's creations being used for the destruction of World War II. If Miyazaki follows through on his announced plans to retire, he's at least gone out with the most mature, elegant, deeply felt work of his career.<br />
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<strong>9. <em>The World's End</em> (Edgar Wright). </strong>Wright is another director who turned in career-best work in 2013, though "mature" is hardly <em>le mot juste</em> for the boisterous, beer-soaked, sensationally entertaining <em>The World's End</em>. Wright's past collaborations with co-writer and star Simon Pegg, <em>Shaun of the Dead</em> and <em>Hot Fuzz</em>, had their moments, but were too derivative and uneven for me to join the cult audience that adores them. That <em>The World's End</em> has converted me to the Cult of Wright is deliciously ironic, since it's a film that's sneakily profound about the fear of conformity--the concern that buying into a corporatized, 9-to-5, brand-name-dominated existence like most people is not quite what the human animal really desires. Pegg's Gary King has avoided that kind of manufactured life, and the movie is complex enough to admire his never-give-in integrity while at the same time recognizing his desperate efforts to replicate his high-school glory days as pathetic. It's this fetishization of the past that leads Gary (played by Pegg with hilarious elasticity and rumpled bravado) to round up his old mates (Nick Frost, Martin Freeman, Eddie Marsan, and Paddy Considine) to finish an epic pub crawl they were unable to complete as teenagers. The ensemble camaraderie is so enjoyable that <em>The World's End</em> would succeed even if it stopped at being a sozzled buddy comedy. Instead, it turns on a dime and morphs into Wright's most inventive and insightful movie-nerd genre riff yet. This is the kind of endlessly funny and exciting entertainment that becomes irresistibly rewatchable--especially after you've had a pint or 12.<br />
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<strong>10. <em>Captain Phillips</em> (Paul Greengrass). </strong>Familiar suspense-movie tactics are no match for a premise that pits two ordinary men who need to put food on the table against each other, which is vividly illustrated in the electrifying <em>Captain Phillips</em>. Greengrass and writer Billy Ray take the real-life story of a band of Somali pirates who hijack an American cargo ship and refuse to render it in broad, hero-vs.-villain strokes. They take the richer, more rewarding path of treating the ship's captain, Richard Phillips (Tom Hanks, in a subtle, thoughtful, and ultimately devastating performance), and the pirates' captain, Muse (Barkhad Abdi, able to shift imperceptibly from fearsom to fearful), as co-protagonists, men whose actions are guided by a need to adapt to a Darwinian global economy. That makes this the rare thriller that's as compassionate as it is intense. Greengrass fuses the jittery momentum of his <em>Bourne</em> movies with the matter-of-fact verisimilitude of his docudramas. <em>Captain Phillips</em> is so breathless that by the time its climax comes to an end, there's superficial catharsis--a chance to exhale, anyway--but also the sad realization that this isn't a story that could've ever led to a happy outcome. It's legitimate tragedy of a uniquely nail-biting sort.<br />
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And here are ten runners-up, with minimized capsules:<br />
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<strong>11. <em>Dallas Buyers Club </em>(Jean-Marc Vallee). </strong>Vallee, whose kaleidoscopic coming-out epic <em>C.R.A.Z.</em><em>Y. </em>is one of the major underseen gems of the last couple decades, tells the '80s-set story of a homophobic, HIV-positive electrician (Matthew McConaughey) and a saucy transgender woman (Jared Leto, sensitive and nuanced) who go around the FDA to get unapproved drugs to the HIV and AIDS patients who need them with a loose-limbed naturalism and anti-authoritarian passion that merits comparison to the work of Milos Forman and Hal Ashby. While throwing around '70s-movie-comparison superlatives, it's worth noting that McConaughey, on a hell of a roll, exhibits a live-wire spontaneity and unpredictability reminiscent of the young Jack Nicholson.<br />
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<strong>12. <em>Blue Jasmine </em>(Woody Allen). </strong>There have been even more great performances in Woody Allen movies than there have been reductive "think"-pieces written about the writer-director's personal life, but there's something uniquely special about how palpably <em>collaborative</em> his work with Cate Blanchett in <em>Blue Jasmine</em> is. His camera lingers on Blanchett's Jasmine, a once-pampered woman who loses her money and much of her sanity after her husband's (Alec Baldwin) white-collar-crime arrest, as if waiting to see what feverish combination of rage, regret, and vulnerability the actress will offer up next. The anticipation extends to the audience. <em>Blue Jasmine</em> is guided by Allen's effortless touch with human tragicomedy, and the entire ensemble shines (even Andrew Dice Clay!). But the film is unthinkable with anyone other than Blanchett in the title role.<br />
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<strong>13. <em>Stories We Tell </em>(Sarah Polley). </strong>In just her third directorial effort, Polley shakes up the form of the autobiographical documentary in audacious and profound ways. As she uncovers secrets about her parents that challenge everything she believed she knew about her background, the film itself reflects her uncertainty in the way it plays with what "truth" in a documentary really is. Even the by-now-tiresome documentary trope of "talking head" interviews is revitalized by Polley's compassionate insistence on giving each one of her relatives who steps in front of the camera equal weight, even when their memories conflict with her own. <em>Stories We Tell</em> is a moving testament to the notion of "family history" as a shared collection of subjective, personal impressions.<br />
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<strong>14. <em>The Conjuring </em>(James Wan). </strong>The crafty, creepy <em>Insidious</em> already earned Wan forgiveness for unleashing the loathsome <em>Saw</em> on the moviegoing populace. But with <em>The Conjuring</em>, Wan manages to take everything that worked with <em>Insidious</em> and elevate those qualities to a higher level, in the process creating something that was in danger of becoming an oxymoron: a great horror movie. <em>The Conjuring </em>has an even stronger emotional core than <em>Insidious</em> in its focus on one mother (the ever-impressive Vera Farmiga) risking her life to save another mother (Lili Taylor, also very good) whose family has been threatened by some very pissed-off spirits. Wan's compositional sense has never been sharper, and he uses every filmmaking trick in the book to scare the bejesus out of the audience. Mission accomplished.<br />
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<strong>15. <em>Laurence Anyways </em>(Xavier Dolan). </strong>After Frederique (Suzanne Clement) receives the news from her longtime boyfriend Laurence (Melvil Poupaud) that he's a woman who plans to undergo the physical transition into his real, female self, can she stay with the person she loves even as she, as a heterosexual woman, loses her attraction to that person? That's the thorny question that drives the emotionally raw <em>Laurence Anyways</em>, which charts the course of Fred and Laurence's relationship over a decade-long span and within just under three hours of screen time. As can be expected of any hugely ambitious undertaking shepherded by a filmmaker who isn't yet 25 years old, <em>Laurence </em>is not without a few whippersnapper-ish indulgences. Doesn't matter. Dolan is so devoted to the interior lives of his two central characters that you become bonded to Fred and Laurence as if they were close friends, and Clement's jagged wonder of a performance would be racking up Best Actress nominations if this was an American film rather than a French-Canadian one. <em>Laurence Anyways</em> is a bona fide intimate epic that leaves one happily heartbroken.<br />
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<strong>16. <em>Nebraska</em> (Alexander Payne). </strong>I wasn't particularly a fan of Payne's last film, the calculated grief-porn wallow <em>The Descendants</em>, but <em>Nebraska </em>marks a welcome return to form for the filmmaker. He's lost none of his <em>About Schmidt</em>-honed gift for finely detailed Midwestern portraiture, and the story of an aging, stubborn man, Woody (Bruce Dern) who drags his son (Will Forte) along on a quixotic quest for sweepstakes money that he hasn't officially won allows Payne to organically tap into veins of humor and melancholy. There's the haunting sense that Woody, with his myopic pursuit of a non-existent fortune, is a stand-in for any senior-age American looking back with regret on a life that appears more mundane than momentous in hindsight, but Payne makes a gently humanist case for Woody's existence as one of achievement. Dern portrays Woody's encroaching senility with bold, meticulous commitment, while June Squibb is indelibly flinty and funny as Woody's firecracker of a wife, Kate.<br />
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<strong>17. <em>This Is The End </em>(Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg). </strong>It would be fair to classify <em>This Is The End</em> as a "dumb" comedy--no one will mistake it for a Woody Allen movie, and its side-splitting highlight is a graphic, amusingly overextended argument between James Franco and Danny McBride (playing themselves, as are the other cast members) over the latter's masturbation habits. But the satiric fun it has with audience assumptions about how well spoiled, hedonistic celebrities will fare when the Apocalypse hits and the sweetness of the Rogen and Jay Baruchel friendship that becomes its emotional center distinguishes it as dumb comedy done very smartly. Behind-the-camera neophytes Rogen and Goldberg merge the humor and the apocalyptic horror elements with <em>Ghostbusters</em>-esque verve, and as writers, they keep the laugh-out-loud moments coming with impressive consistency.<br />
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<strong>18. <em>Her </em>(Spike Jonze). </strong>In portraying the romance between lonely, freshly divorced Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his artificial-intelligence operating system, Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johansson), as both a credible, two-entity relationship and as a chance for Theodore to satisfy his emotional needs while (in theory) avoiding the thornier aspects of intimacy, Jonze taps into thought-provoking questions of human connection in the technology-heavy modern world. Heady stuff, to be sure, which makes it odd that on first viewing, <em>Her</em> struck me as slight compared to Jonze's bigger-in-scope collaborations with Charlie Kaufman, <em>Being John Malkovich</em> and <em>Adaptation</em>. However, a second viewing revealed that <em>Her</em>'s "small" qualities are bold in their delicacy; much of the movie is just Theodore talking with Samantha, and the refreshing patience with which Jonze directs these conversations speaks to a confident belief that a movie with a huge heart doesn't need any additional bells and whistles. <em>Her</em> may be timely in its examination of a post-Siri technological age, but its exquisite tenderness makes it equally timeless.<br />
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<strong>19. <em>Prince Avalanche </em>(David Gordon Green). </strong><em>Prince Avalanche </em>is a movie of boundless generosity, which is most evident in the way it turns the story of two road workers (Paul Rudd and Emile Hirsch) repairing a wildfire-damaged Texas highway while at a low point in their respective personal lives into a buoyant celebration of the human capacity for renewal and rebirth. It's also generous to Rudd and Hirsch, two fine actors who have too often labored in projects undeserving of them and who respond to the rich leading roles offered to them here with their best work in years. But perhaps the most welcome form of <em>Prince Avalanche</em>'s generosity is its indiscriminate embrace of both highbrow and lowbrow entertainment. Green has made both Malick-influenced art films (<em>George Washington</em>) and crude stoner comedies (<em>Pineapple Express</em>), and this film is a synthesis of those two strains of his work. For anyone whose taste encompasses both <em>Waiting for Godot</em> and <em>Dumb & Dumber</em>--as readers of this list have already figured out, that definitely describes me--that's a very welcome combination indeed.<br />
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<strong>20. <em>Stoker </em>(Park Chan-wook). </strong>Korean cult favorite Park has always possessed a flair for delirious set pieces that recall Brian DePalma in their ostentatious camerawork and frenzied-yet-precise editing. His English-language debut, <em>Stoker</em>, confirms what my favorite of his Vengeance trilogy, <em>Lady Vengeance</em>, already suggested--that his cinema-of-excess gifts are best applied to female-centered melodramas instead of the (still fun) macho bloodbaths that he seems to favor. After all, the form of melodrama is one inherently dependent on exaggeration, and writer Wentworth Miller's script for <em>Stoker</em>--a Gothic coming-of-ager centered on a young girl (the quietly forceful Mia Wasikowska) who finds herself gravitating towards her charming yet sinister uncle (Matthew Goode)--might as well have been punctuated entirely by exclamation points. So pouring Park's extravagance on top of dramatically overheated material is like topping a sundae with an avalanche of cherries. The sheer indulgence of it is bliss.<br />
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Here are 10 more 2013 runners-up:<br />
<strong>21. <em>Byzantium </em>(Neil Jordan).</strong><br />
<strong>22. <em>The Great Beauty </em>(Paolo Sorrentino).</strong><br />
<strong>23. <em>20 Feet From Stardom </em>(Morgan Neville).</strong><br />
<strong>24. <em>The Hunt </em>(Thomas Vinterberg).</strong><br />
<strong>25. <em>Simon Killer</em> (Antonio Campos).</strong><br />
<strong>26. <em>Frozen </em>(Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee).</strong><br />
<strong>27. <em>All Is Lost </em>(J.C. Chandor).</strong><br />
<strong>28. <em>Something In The Air </em>(Oliver Assayas).</strong><br />
<strong>29. <em>Frances Ha </em>(Noah Baumbach).</strong><br />
<strong>30. <em>Fast & Furious 6 </em>(Justin Lin).</strong><br />
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Special Recognition for Ineligible TV Work from Film Auteurs: <strong><em>Behind the Candelabra </em>(Steven Soderbergh)</strong> and <strong><em>Top of the Lake </em>(Jane Campion). </strong>Both are masterful.<br />
<em></em><br />Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-79672174912287579612013-02-21T20:08:00.001-08:002013-02-21T20:08:43.409-08:00The Best Films of 2012Since the movie year of 2012 is arguably most notable for being The Year of the Procedural, it would be entirely fitting if I spent this first paragraph laying bare my own list-making process. No list is entirely set in stone for all eternity, a simple fact I'm reminded of when looking back at my 2011 list, which I would now revise by adding two supremely accomplished action flicks to the runner-up list: Tsui Hark's imaginative <em>Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame</em>, which I hadn't seen before making the '11 lists, and Brad Bird's playful <em>Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol</em>, which I had seen, though it took me a couple repeat viewings to realize how awesome it is. Adding to the inevitable imprecision of list-making is the nagging sense that there's no way to see absolutely every movie of note within a given year, so apologies to the unseen-by-me <em>Middle of Nowhere</em>, <em>Compliance</em>, <em>Tabu</em>, <em>It's Such a Beautiful Day</em>, <em>Detention</em>, <em>Room 237</em>, <em>A Royal Affair</em>, and <em>Elena</em>. To address the 2012 movies I did see and love, I'd much rather, at this tardy stage, tackle the ten best and the runners-up in one fell swoop, instead of in two separate pieces, as I did last year. <br />
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With that conveniently thematically-on-point editorial house-cleaning out of the way, I want to quickly get into what makes 2012 The Year of the Procedural. Two brilliant American auteurs best known for visceral and sensation-driven cinema committed to this cerebral form with a force and intelligence that would surprise only detractors--Kathryn Bigelow with <em>Zero Dark Thirty</em>, and Steven Spielberg with <em>Lincoln. </em>Those of us who have always believed Bigelow and Spielberg to be as deft with subtext as they are with primal impact are merely glad that these two films have become among the year's most celebrated and widely discussed accomplishments. Elsewhere, procedurals came in non-fiction form (David France's <em>How to Survive a Plague</em>); from far-off lands (Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Turkey-set <em>Once Upon a Time in Anatolia</em>); and even played in a kid-friendly key (Ken Kwapis' <em>Big Miracle</em>). So what has caused this flood of nuts-and-bolts-driven cinema? Surely the nature of 2012 as an election year in America played some unconscious part, and I'd like to think the cultural ascension of David Fincher's serial-killer procedural <em>Zodiac</em>--which received no Oscar attention upon its release in 2007 but is now considered a masterpiece by many filmmakers and cinephiles--contributed too.<br />
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As you may have guessed, a few of the above-mentioned titles made their way onto my best-films-of-2012 list. Here is the list itself:<br />
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<strong>1. <em>Amour </em>(Michael Haneke). </strong>There's something poignant about a gifted film artist with a naturally cold-blooded, sometimes even mercilessly cruel voice laying his heart on the line for all to see. In doing just that with the devastating <em>Amour</em>, Austrian formalist Michael Haneke has delivered the crowning achievement of his career. He has sacrificed none of the exacting, demanding-yet-rewarding rigor of his framing and pacing, and yet in the interaction between octogenerian Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and his wife, Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), who is slowly dying after suffering a severe stroke, a real life and intimacy breathes through that is refreshingly new to Haneke's work. A lot of credit is surely due to the effortless duet between Trintignant and Riva, who offer a stunningly authentic portrait of senior-age couplehood and devotion. Any movie that deals this honestly with death is understandably a tough sell, but Haneke's masterpiece tackles the subject like no movie I've seen--it's unflinching yet graceful, a starkly beautiful hymn to anyone forced to say goodbye to a loved one.<br />
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<strong>2. <em>Django Unchained </em>(Quentin Tarantino). </strong>The best American film of the year is geek auteur Quentin Tarantino's follow-up to <em>Inglorious Basterds</em>, a historical satire in a more mythic, epic vein than its 2009 counterpart. I don't need to add much to the rave review I wrote earlier: <a href="http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2013/02/review-of-django-unchained.html">http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2013/02/review-of-django-unchained.html</a>. If there's anything I neglected to dwell on, it's that what makes Tarantino such a poet of screen violence is his responsibility in knowing the difference between the kind of violence that should sicken audiences and the kind that should excite them, which is especially valuable considering the current reactionary national discourse on the subject. The cathartic kick of Tarantino's action scenes here would be nowhere near as potent without his horrific portrayal of the abuse that slaves in the antebellum American South experienced.<br />
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<strong>3. <em>The Dark Knight Rises </em>(Christopher Nolan). </strong>Since not everyone is as batty (sorry) for writer-director Christopher Nolan's wrap-up to his popcorn-cinema-elevating Batman trilogy as I am, I'll make my case for it via my in-depth full review: <a href="http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2012/08/review-of-dark-knight-rises.html">http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2012/08/review-of-dark-knight-rises.html</a>. On repeat viewings, what sticks with me most is, funnily enough, what drives many fanboys nuts (spoilers ahead): Nolan's generosity in granting Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) a happy ending, one that pointedly depicts him hanging up the cape and cowl for good. Capping a magnificently bleak trilogy with a fully earned light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel resolution feels powerfully, movingly right.<br />
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<strong>4. <em>Zero Dark Thirty </em>(Kathryn Bigelow). </strong>As mentioned above, the procedural is a new form for action maestro Kathryn Bigelow, and yet how she aces this departure is largely by infusing even the most talky scenes with her signature tactile physicality. As CIA analyst Maya (Jessica Chastain, brilliantly evoking the way obsession churns like an engine within the character's belly) travels the globe in search of Osama bin Laden, we're immersed in the sandy, teeming Pakistani streets and the white, sterile Washington corridors of power along with her. And Bigelow's gift for action set pieces that derive their power from shooting and editing that respects spatial coherence (fancy that!) comes to the forefront in the bravura climactic raid on bin Laden's compound, a half-hour stretch of film sure to be studied for decades. Bigelow and writer Mark Boal give equal attention to mapping the film's narrative shape, crafting an intricate series of negotiations, bribes, sleepless data analyses, and, yes, interrogations that provocatively and grippingly reveal information as the real weapon in the War on Terror.<br />
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<strong>5. <em>Lincoln </em>(Steven Spielberg). </strong>As often as Steven Spielberg has chronicled historical events, he's never done so with as much modesty as he brings to this quietly passionate, often surprisingly funny depiction of President Abraham Lincoln's efforts to pass the slavery-abolishing 13th Amendment. The voice of writer Tony Kushner (the landmark <em>Angels in America</em>) dominates to such a degree that one of the movie's great pleasures is rolling around in the brainy intricacy and dry wit of his glorious language. And for this humanist study of democracy, it's entirely apropos that Spielberg democratically allows every member of his expert ensemble cast to shine. Within that ensemble, Tommy Lee Jones brings such fire and conviction to abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens that he actually manages to dwarf Daniel Day-Lewis' typically flawless portrayal of Lincoln. At the same time, though, Day-Lewis' shrewd way of suggesting Lincoln's ability to harness his gentle eccentricity in order to manipulate those around him is a neat parallel to what Spielberg has pulled off here: like Lincoln, Spielberg is a visionary who can exert his powers in an invisible way.<br />
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<strong>6. <em>Moonrise Kingdom </em>(Wes Anderson). </strong>The underlying sad beauty of writer-director Wes Anderson's comedies is how their immaculately conceived storybook worlds act as barricades trying to keep the harsh messiness of the real, adult world at bay. When two barely pubescent lovebirds (Kara Hayward and Jared Gilman) run away from their respective homes to set up stakes in the New England wilderness, it's out of a belief that a Lost Boys-style existence is not only plausible, but the answer to never-ending bliss. Anderson constructs this specific otherworldly setting with eye-popping assurance, and contrasts the kids' innocence with the weathered melancholy of the grown-ups in their lives (Bruce Willis has rarely been better than he is here, playing a lovesick policeman with sad-eyed gravity). Perhaps most importantly, Anderson is mature enough to realize the kids' haven is an illusion, a temporary escape at best--a point he drives home in a heartbreaker of a final shot.<br />
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<strong>7. <em>The Master </em>(Paul Thomas Anderson). </strong>A thrillingly strange and visually meticulous epic, <em>The Master </em>finds vital filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson blending some of his pet themes--the <em>Boogie Nights</em>-esque formation of an uncoventional family; an alternately scary and sympathetic broken-soul protagonist akin to those found in <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> and <em>There Will Be Blood</em>--with a vein of post-war anxiety and a gift for offhand abstraction that distinctively belong to this staggering work. As ever, Anderson inspires his actors to scale dizzying heights. While Amy Adams is a quietly forceful wonder in her power-behind-the-throne role, much of the film's power rests in the knotty chemistry between Philip Seymour Hoffman and Joaquin Phoenix as, respectively, a master and a disciple locked in a symbiotic bond. Hoffman locates the humanity within his gabby blowhard, while Phoenix, in an unforgettable tour de force that really should be winning more awards, lays bare the raw-nerve vulnerability of a generation struggling to rebuild in the aftermath of chaos, as well as that of anyone so desperate for answers to life's questions that the wrong places start looking right.<br />
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<strong>8. <em>The Grey </em>(Joe Carnahan). </strong>At his worst, such as the assaultive <em>Smokin' Aces</em>, director Joe Carnahan indulges in pageants of empty macho bluster. So it makes a perverse kind of sense that he has made his first genuinely great film by not abandoning his fascination with he-man masculinity, but instead refining his manner of portraying it. A vividly gritty and harrowing story of men fighting to survive in a snow-and-hungry-wolf-strewn environment that threatens to swallow them up at every turn, <em>The Grey </em>mixes B-movie manliness and artful lyricism in a manner reminiscent of memorable '70s genre entries like <em>Jaws </em>and <em>Deliverance</em>. It would be nothing without Liam Neeson, in one of the year's major underrated performances, as the group's assertive yet secretly grief-stricken leader. The film's misleading see-Neeson-fight-a-bunch-of-wolves marketing didn't do it any favors. The real, more humane spectacle here is Neeson's sensitive and iconic embodiment of a man who chooses to embrace life while teetering on the precipice of death.<br />
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<strong>9. <em>Seven Psychopaths</em> (Martin McDonagh). </strong>Playwright Martin McDonagh established a Coen-esque flair for quotable dialogue, darkly funny violence, and stealthy thematic layering with his big-screen debut, <em>In Bruges</em>. This follow-up manages to be even more sneakily profound, and its greater cinematic scope proves that McDonagh is further honing his visual chops. When the writer-director strands his writers'-block-afflicted authorial stand-in (Colin Farrell) in the limbo-land of Joshua Tree with his violence-prone best friend (the great, live-wire scene stealer Sam Rockwell) and a pacifist accomplice (Christopher Walken, in his best, most emotionally textured performance since <em>Catch Me If You Can</em>), a realization sinks in: the Rockwell and Walken characters might be mere manifestations of Fictional McDonagh's warring psyche. Thus, underneath the meta games of <em>Seven Psychopaths</em> is the resonant suggestion that every artist--or every human being, really--can be the victim of an interior tug-of-war between optimism and oblivion.<br />
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<strong>10. <em>Cloud Atlas</em> (Lana Wachowski & Andy Wachowski & Tom Tykwer). </strong>This singular sci-fi weave of six different but interconnected narrative threads certainly took its knocks from some critics, and it undeniably tests how many whack-a-doo flaws a movie can contain while still laying claim to greatness (i.e. Tom Hanks' schticky work is his only insufferable non-<em>Gump</em> performance, and I'm not sure a film so narratively dense benefits from trotting out a near-indecipherable pidgin-English-style concocted language in one of its story strands). That said, this movie's massive ambition and intoxicating passion make it genuinely addictive; I've already seen it three times, and don't plan on stopping there. While the symphonic cross-cutting of its storytelling engulfs the senses, what engages the mind is how each story becomes a rousing rise-of-the-oppressed parable. This unapologetically political blockbuster is brave enough to spit in the face of institutional racism, sexism, and homophobia. Its box-office failure means we may never see its like again, which is a damn shame.<br />
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Here are the next ten runners-up of 2012. Befitting their runner-up status, the capsules will run shorter, although why I have a certain Best Picture Oscar front-runner 18 spots lower on my list will require elaboration:<br />
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<strong>11. <em>Rust and Bone</em> (Jacques Audiard). </strong>Both tough-minded and big-hearted, this unique, beautifully thorny love story from gritty poet Jacques Audiard, following up <em>A Prophet</em> with another triumph, doesn't shy away from the warts-and-all humanity of its two central characters. Matthias Schoenarts is brooding and compelling as the male lead, but the movie belongs to Marion Cotillard, who displays an emotional range that puts many of her contemporaries to shame.<br />
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<strong>12. <em>The Cabin in the Woods</em> (Drew Goddard).</strong> Like Haneke's <em>Funny Games</em> for the Harry Knowles generation, this surprise-filled genre treat from director Drew Goddard and witty co-writer Joss Whedon interrogates viewer complicity in the horror genre while operating in a fast-paced, wildly entertaining key sure to win over even those uninterested in parsing its meta-narrative meanings.<br />
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<strong>13. <em>Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present</em> (Matthew Akers). </strong>The year's most emotionally cathartic documentary actually manages to be <em>about</em> emotional catharsis, about the elemental power of connecting with an artist for a good, cleansing cry. The world of performance art is so often held up for mockery that this argument for its accessibility is something to celebrate.<br />
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<strong>14. <em>Headhunters</em> (Morten Tyldum). </strong>The less said about this devious, unrelenting rollercoaster of a cat-and-mouse thriller, the better. Suffice it to say that anyone who loves the dark elegance of Hitchcock's wrong-man suspense films and the nasty kicks of Danny Boyle's <em>Shallow Grave</em> will be in heaven here.<br />
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<strong>15. <em>Searching for Sugar Man </em>(Malik Bendjelloul). </strong>Much like <em>Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present</em>, this is a deep and affecting non-fiction look at how art is received. In spinning the yarn of mysterious balladeer Rodriguez, documentarian Malik Bendjelloul fluidly uses Rodriguez's music to create an entrancing cinematic atmosphere, and his film is a testament to the notion that any sincere work of art is bound to connect with someone, somewhere.<br />
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<strong>16. <em>Once Upon a Time in Anatolia</em> (Nuri Bilge Ceylan). </strong>One of the year's formidable art-cinema achievements, Turkish auteur Nuri Bilge Ceylan's gorgeous and haunting police procedural turns a seemingly mundane murder investigation into an examination of whether professional detachment is ideal--or even possible--when tending to the business of why a life has been taken. The landscape photography stuns, and bursts of absurdist humor provide idiosyncratic comic relief, but it's the philosophical and moral weight that sticks with you.<br />
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<strong>17. <em>Magic Mike</em> (Steven Soderbergh). </strong>Simultaneously exuberant and brainy, this character-study-disguised-as-male-stripper-melodrama effectively acts as a grab bag of what makes the (allegedly) near-retirement director Steven Soderbergh such a unique talent: his proud, showy flair for composition and editing; his interest in performance as a theme, and related ability to mine the depths of deceptively "limited" actors (Channing Tatum and Matthew McConaughey in this case); his subversive politics of sexual objectification (a key dancing set piece is pointedly shot via a female gaze); his post-'08 fascination with what constitutes work and play in recession-era America. Which is all an elaborate way of saying, "please, Stevie, don't leave us!"<br />
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<strong>18. <em>Wuthering Heights </em>(Andrea Arnold). </strong>It's always exciting to be present at the point when a gifted young filmmaker really kicks his or her game up several notches, and that's what has happened here with Andrea Arnold, who previously established a control of mood and atmosphere with <em>Red Road</em> and <em>Fish Tank</em>. In <em>Wuthering Heights</em>, her best film yet, Arnold wisely eschews the musty tastefulness of conventional literary adaptations in favor of creating an immersive, daring mosaic of mud, blood, fog, and teenage flesh. Lest that last element sound overly prurient, it should be noted that Arnold keeps her vivid evocation of teenage erotic longing from tilting into creepy territory. More impressively, her poetic use of nature calls to mind the master Terrence Malick. Make no mistake, though: her voice is her own, and we'll be hearing a lot of it in the future.<br />
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<strong>19. <em>Argo </em>(Ben Affleck). </strong>So obviously, there are four Best Picture Oscar nominees I greatly prefer to this one, the front-runner. And I would concede that its relative superficiality and tendency to paint every brown-skinned character as a wild-eyed beast may cause it to age poorly among discerning audiences. Nevertheless, when viewed properly as a popcorn movie for adults, it serves that purpose in excellent, sure-footed, and engrossing fashion. It's also the rare studio movie about America's conflicts with the Middle East that is propulsively entertaining, and never even remotely preachy. Affleck's craftsmanship and doses of period flavor make <em>Argo</em> feel sort of like what would happen if Ron Howard's best, smartest work had a few shots of Alan J. Pakula '70s atmosphere added to the mix; he's certainly the real deal. So too is writer Chris Terrio, who puts some priceless zingers into the mouths of priceless character actors Alan Arkin and John Goodman...which, I shouldn't have to add, is not the same as saying he deserves to steal the Oscar that should rightfully go to <em>Lincoln</em>'s Tony Kushner. (I mean, come <em>on</em>!) Still: pretty great.<br />
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<strong>20. <em>The Raid: Redemption</em> (Gareth Evans). </strong>While this Indonesian B-movie-pressure-cooker's weary cynicism towards urban corruption puts it in the esteemed genre company of gems like John Carpenter's <em>Assault on Precinct 13</em>, I'm not gonna lie: I love it because its brutal, beautifully choreographed, acrobatic, non-stop action kicks a lot of fucking ass.<br />
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And here's everything else I considered list-worthy, which brings the total to a nice, even 30 standout films:<br />
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<strong>21. <em>Cafe de Flore </em>(Jean-Marc Vallee)</strong><br />
<strong>22. <em>Dark Horse </em>(Todd Solondz)</strong><br />
<strong>23. <em>Holy Motors </em>(Leos Carax)</strong><br />
<strong>24. <em>Miss Bala </em>(Gerardo Naranjo)</strong><br />
<strong>25. <em>Silver Linings Playbook </em>(David O. Russell)</strong><br />
<strong>26. <em>The Central Park Five </em>(Ken Burns & David McMahon & Sarah Burns)</strong><br />
<strong>27. <em>The Five-Year Engagement </em>(Nicholas Stoller)</strong><br />
<strong>28. <em>Prometheus </em>(Ridley Scott)</strong><br />
<strong>29. <em>Savages</em> (Oliver Stone)</strong><br />
<strong>30. <em>Easy Money </em>a.k.a <em>Snabba Cash</em> (Daniel Espinosa)</strong><br />
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And just for fun, my choice for a quite-good 2012 release that may leap into a runner-up position upon multiple viewings, a la <em>Ghost Protocol</em> last year: <strong><em>ParaNorman </em>(Chris Butler & Sam Fell). </strong>I'd bet money on this, actually.Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-34746126867317437932013-02-05T18:52:00.000-08:002013-02-05T18:52:51.454-08:00Review of "Django Unchained"[Warning: SPOILERS Unleashed. Please read only after you've seen the film.]<br />
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While much has been written about Spike Lee's sight-unseen dismissal of Quentin Tarantino's smart, savage, and hugely entertaining spaghetti "Southern" <em>Django Unchained</em>, one bit of irony that has seemingly eluded many critics and reporters is that <em>Django</em> shares with Lee's scathing, underrated satire <em>Bamboozled </em>an interest in how a single cinematic image can speak volumes about racial representation. Whereas <em>Bamboozled </em>focused on the negative representational baggage of an actor wearing blackface, <em>Django</em> is intended as a corrective, offering provocatively loaded images that empower black characters and, by extension, black audiences. I'm thinking in particular of a majestic low-angle shot of the titular freed-slave hero, Django (Jamie Foxx), repeatedly cracking a whip over the hide of an outside-the-frame slave driver (MC Gainey), surrounded by the kind of mammoth, moss-drenched trees that have long been a part of our collective cinematic imagining of the American South. <em>Django</em> is set during the region's antebellum period, a time when enslaved black Americans had every reason to fear the whips of their white masters. Thus, the reversal of historic expectations contained within this image could hardly be more pointed--or more viscerally effective.<br />
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A keenly judged balance of the visceral and the cerebral has come to define Tarantino's voice as a filmmaker as surely as his more frequently discussed passion for disreputable genre fare. So it makes sense that on first viewing, <em>Django</em> struck me as a combination of <em>Inglorious Basterds</em>' meticulous satiric structure--with every dialogue exchange laying bare the business-as-usual commerce behind American slavery, in place of the earlier film's verbal fixation on survival-as-negotiation in WWII-era Europe--with the blood-splattered, high-body-count excess of the <em>Kill Bill</em> movies. This equation amounts to one way of interpreting <em>Django</em>'s greatness, and Tarantino's flair for exciting action set pieces is certainly matched by his ear for talk that is at once thematically fertile and enjoyably, deceptively loose. (Django's bitter joke explaining why a white, German ally is visibly shaken by the sight of attack dogs tearing into an escaped slave's flesh--"he's not used to Americans"--packs more punch and bite into one line than writer-director Andrew Dominik was able to drum up for the entirety of his own capitalist satire, the tedious, pathetically Tarantino-indebted <em>Killing Them Softly</em>.)<br />
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But after a second viewing, <em>Django </em>feels like a more unique accomplishment within the Tarantino oeuvre, not to mention his most towering achievement since the landmark <em>Pulp Fiction</em> (and I don't say that lightly, considering I absolutely adore <em>all</em> of his films, even the oft-maligned and admittedly indulgent <em>Grindhouse</em> entry <em>Death Proof</em>). What makes <em>Django</em> so unlike the writer-director's previous work is that, when boiled down, it's an epic, populist hero's myth--a rousing folk tale with an eccentrically dark, outrage-fueled underbelly. Its different-season-spanning, Texas-to-Mississippi-traveling size and scope mark it as different in key ways from <em>Basterds</em>, which is somewhat anti-epic in its contained focus on the intrigue surrounding the doomed premiere at the theatre run by Melanie Laurent's character. Glancing at the past literary and cinematic works that have influenced the shape of <em>Django </em>offers another way of understanding what makes it such an unusual and special Tarantino movie: within its DNA are the widescreen vistas, stubbly grit, and Morricone music of Sergio Leone's spaghetti Westerns; the epic-journey sweep and "man struggling to return to his wife" hook of Homer's <u>The Odyssey</u>; the black-male swagger and empowerment politics of any number of blaxploitation flicks; and the peculiar character layout of Mark Twain's <u>The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn</u>, which similarly surrounded a conventional protagonist with an assortment of grotesquely seedy, satirically caricatured Southern-weirdo supporting characters.<br />
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That character layout puts Foxx at a disadvantage relative to the rest of the cast, as he's required to occupy the still center of a storm of crazy that the supporting cast members have a great deal of fun whipping up. However, Foxx turns out to be an ideal anchor, bringing stoic authority to Django, in addition to more soul and real feeling than he's brought to any project since <em>Ray</em>.<br />
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There's also nice, unforced emotion from Christoph Waltz's note-perfect, deservedly Oscar-nominated performance as Django's aforementioned white, German ally, a chatty dentist-turned-bounty-hunter named Dr. King Schultz. We know from Waltz's Oscar-winning turn as the villainous Hans Landa in <em>Basterds</em> that he's an ideal mouthpiece for Tarantino's dialogue, chewing on every word as if each was a morsel of a particularly delicious steak. What's revelatory about his <em>Django</em> performance is how subtly and sympathetically he embodies Schultz's decidedly non-Landa-esque goodness, his disarming gentleness and quiet moral certainty. The chemistry between Foxx and Waltz is clearly meant to evoke that of Paul Newman and Robert Redford in <em>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</em>--and, magically, it really does earn the comparison.<br />
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Although Django and Schultz encounter a few vivid oddballs in the film's first half (including a Colonel Sanders-bearded plantation owner played by Don Johnson, whose superb comic timing is something of a surprise even after his goofy work on HBO's <em>Eastbound and Down</em>), it's not until they arrive in Mississippi at roughly the halfway point that the film's other two major performances come to the forefront. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Calvin Candie, the decadent, spoiled-rotten, more-articulate-than-actually-bright master of a plantation immodestly dubbed Candieland. DiCaprio is one of the two or three most dependable star-level actors around, and he's so good at playing quiet torment I wouldn't really mind if that's all he did for the remainder of his career, but all the same, it's a real pleasure to experience how uncharacteristically loose-limbed and inventive-on-the-spot he is here. He finds an ideal scene partner in Samuel L. Jackson, who plays Calvin's fiercely loyal right-hand man, Stephen. The character of Stephen, a slave who will gladly rat out and abuse other slaves at the drop of a hat, is one of the movie's riskiest provocations, but the movie is smart enough to implicate the vile system that creates a mindset like Stephen's, and Jackson's performance is not only bold but very skillful in its balance of being a mostly comedic turn played totally straight. (My brother shrewdly noted that one of the script's more affecting complexities is that the friendship between Calvin and Stephen feels as genuine, in its more poisonous way, as that between Django and Schultz.)<br />
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Calvin invites Django and Schultz, who feign an interest in purchasing one of Calvin's "mandingo" fighters when their real plan is to rescue Django's wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington, touchingly wounded, though sidelined for much of the movie), from Calvin's clutches, to dine with him at Candieland. The resulting dinner sequence has been criticized by some of the film's detractors for being too padded and agonizingly slow, but I'd actually argue that it's the best-directed sequence of Tarantino's career, and the point in the film where his anger at the greed, oppression, and racism of this culture reaches full, galvanizing boil. He uses every filmmaking tool at his command to convey that Candieland is a rotting carcass underneath its fussy old-money grandeur: the camera fluidly moving back and forth between the relaxed guests in the dining room and the harried, enslaved servants toiling in the kitchen; the hot, orange glow of director of photography Robert Richardson's lighting blending with the dark reds of production designer J. Michael Riva's dining-room walls to suggest the hellfire and bloodshed that Calvin's privileged world is built upon. <br />
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That bloodshed becomes literal once this sequence is over, in a go-for-broke shootout wherein one of the casualties is poor Dr. Schultz. Even fans of the movie have been debating the effectiveness of the 20 minutes or so that follow this shootout and bring Django's tale to an end. But the second viewing, for me, confirmed that the myth of Django would be far less thematically potent if it didn't illustrate how Django would thrive without Schultz by his side. In his savvy negotiation with an Australian mining company (whose ranks unfortunately include Tarantino himself, trotting out a wince-inducing accent for his cameo), Django proves that a German immigrant who harnessed his gift for gab to succeed in capitalist America makes for an ideal role model for a freed black man aiming to succeed in the antebellum South to follow. In order to seize power, Django must put what he learned from the deceased Schultz to the test.<br />
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Although this story was always destined to end with an empowered Django, Foxx's choice of how to play the character in full badass mode likely could not have been predicted. As Django struts into Candieland to enact his vengeance, Foxx brings the kind of peacocking, anachronistic swagger that has marred many of his weaker performances, and that he wisely kept tamped down until the final scene. And yet, when viewed within the context of this grand hero's myth, Foxx's choice makes an odd, perfect kind of sense. In the epic character arc of a black man who enters the movie with such timidity he's afraid to raise his voice when talking to the white bounty hunter who freed him and then exits it with the freakish confidence and control of a blaxploitation/folk hero, there is great poignance and glory. If Spike Lee ever decides to see this masterpiece for himself, he might even agree. <strong>Grade: A</strong>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-26990836159628078832012-08-13T12:59:00.000-07:002012-08-13T12:59:49.845-07:00Review of "The Dark Knight Rises"[WARNING: Massive SPOILERS ahead. Reading this review before you have seen <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em> is not advised, unless you happen to be the arch-nemesis of fun.]<br />
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Wrapping up a beloved film trilogy in a satisfactory way is already a daunting challenge, but with <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em>, his third and final Batman epic, director and co-writer Christopher Nolan faced an even tougher and rather unique professional conundrum: how to follow up a sequel that became the kind of bona fide, genre-reinventing pop culture phenomenon that is impossible to duplicate by its very lightning-in-a-bottle nature. <em>The Dark Knight</em> took the unusual maturity and narrative density of Nolan's introductory origin story <em>Batman Begins</em> even further, while simultaneously offering a visceral, intense cinematic experience that can't really be compared to anything else out there, let alone other comic-book-based superhero flicks. A nerve-jangling hybrid of police procedural, post-9/11 political allegory, and apocalyptic horror that situates the Caped Crusader within an ensemble framework that refuses to make him its chief priority, <em>The Dark Knight</em> is a work that fiendishly created its own genre rules. The idea of a follow-up bending over backwards to create a new set of expectation-subverting rules seems in theory to be as ill-advised and potentially self-destructive as having whoever steps into the new film's villain role try to compete with Heath Ledger's unforgettable Joker performance in <em>The Dark Knight</em>.<br />
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So that <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em> doesn't rival its immediate predecessor in bracing freshness is far from a weakness. Nolan and co-writer brother Jonathan Nolan are shrewd enough to take elements from the series' previous films--the character-study-of-Bruce-Wayne focus and narrative-weight-carrying band of villains the League of Shadows from <em>Batman Begins</em>, the intense and downright Haneke-esque sadism and age-of-terrorism pontificating of <em>The Dark Knight</em>--and shape the new film around those elements so that the trilogy as a whole has a unifying drive and ambition.<br />
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But to acknowledge <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em> as a film intended more to provide satisfying closure to a giant-canvas trilogy than to reinvent the genre wheel isn't to say that Nolan has abandoned his sense of surprise entirely. On the contrary, <em>Rises</em> thrives on the unexpected, from Nolan's perhaps foolhardy attempts to top himself when it comes to narrative scale and action spectacle to his layering of class and even gender concerns into his study of those occupying Gotham City's margins. Also, what gives <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em> its own identity apart from its predecessors and makes it a work of grand cinematic excitement is how magically and fluidly it morphs from a sinister, hard-PG-13 downer to the most genuinely rousing studio crowd-pleaser in ages. If <em>The Dark Knight</em>'s narrative drive was patterned after the Joker's chaotic, anarchic whims, <em>Rises</em> is governed just as recogni<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zably by the mindset of its own villain, Bane (Tom Hardy), a buff, masked League of Shadows reject who believes that true hope cannot exist without crushing despair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Nolan commits to the initial downbeat tone so thoroughly that he withholds the inspiring presence of Batman for the first hour or so--perhaps the movie's biggest <em>TDK</em>-level subversion, and an ingenious one. That hour is instead devoted to a portrait of the institutional complacency and corruption that has seeped into post-Dent Gotham City. The way Nolan has depicted Bruce Wayne's home turf throughout the trilogy feels informed by the very adult and subtextually loaded chronicles of urban rot offered up by masters like Sidney Lumet (<em>Serpico </em>and <em>Prince of the City</em>, the latter of which Nolan has admitted was an inspiration for <em>Rises</em>) and David Simon (TV's <em>The Wire</em>), and it's a huge if muddled pleasure to see Nolan test how far he can take that particular ambition in the first hour of <em>Rises</em>. After striving for and arguably achieving objective "perfection" in his last two films (<em>TDK</em> and <em>Inception</em>), Nolan was bound to get a tad messier at some point, and the web-like narrative intricacy of <em>Rises</em>' Gotham-centered introductory hour gets undeniably tangled. But the sheer density of it is irresistible, as are the political implications (i.e. Bane's terrori<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zing of Gothamites being narratively and thematically aligned with the more insinuating corporate dominance of Ben Mendelsohn's Daggett.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">On that last point: it's pu<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">z<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zling that a film as contemptuous of unchecked corporate power as <em>Rises</em> would be labeled by short-sighted pundits as politically conservative, an accusation further hobbled by Nolan's purposeful placement of two protagonists far removed from the world of upper-class privilege Wayne occupies into the narrative. There's Officer (later Detective) Blake (Joseph Gordon Levitt), born an orphan and emboldened to investigate why the boys who have been phased out of the now-underfunded boys' home he used to inhabit have turned to subterranean crime while his superiors la<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zily coast on the Dent Act's reassuring statistics. And there's Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway), a master thief who, in spite of her extraordinary skills, remains subservient to the male thugs who run Gotham's underworld. Both characters challenge Wayne to use his wealth liberally--Blake critici<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zes Wayne for neglecting social-responsibility "details" like the boys' home, and much of Selina's repartee with Bruce while the two dance at Miranda Tate's (Marion Cotillard) soiree (some of Nolan's sharpest ever dialogue, in my opinion) consists of Selina chastising Bruce for living in an overprivileged bubble. As actors, Gordon Levitt and especially the scene-stealing Hathaway effortlessly project the wounded souls and well-honed survival instincts of those who live outside the bubble, and also possess the cool, innate intelligence that Nolan favors in his actors.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">While sheltered in a financial sense, Bruce, of course, has always been wounded in his own way, and at this point, Bale knows the exact level at which to pitch the character's masochistic grief. Yet entirely befitting an ensemble-driven trilogy, it's through Michael Caine's absolutely heartbreaking performance as Wayne's servant and advisor, Alfred, that Bruce's self-torturing plight hits us with a powerful emotional force. In Bruce, Alfred sees a man whose interest in ensuring the happiness and safety of others is fed by an equally strong rejection of those comforts for himself.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bruce's discomfort is increased a thousandfold when Bane snaps his back apart in one swift move, a dismantling-an-icon, end-of-first-act shocker that's infinitely more nightmarish to see enacted by flesh-and-blood actors than it is in the pen-and-ink form of the comics' <em>Knightfall</em> story thread. Bruce struggles to get back in fighting shape while trapped in Bane's dank prison, and in an odd coincidence, this passage of the film is highly reminiscent of Her<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zog's <em>Rescue Dawn</em>, another Bale vehicle that revolves around his planned escape from a hellish prison camp. Spurring Bruce on is the sight from his cell TV of Bane turning Gotham into an isolated wasteland, using tons of explosives and rhetoric that fires up the city's disenfranchised citi<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zens. (That Bane's speeches have a striking resemblance to Occupy Wall Street calls to action has also been used in accusations of the film being conservative, which misses the point entirely. As a recent thinkprogress piece pointed out, all three films in Nolan's trilogy provocatively show the villains making entirely rational critiques of Gotham's infrastructure; it's how the villains go about "fixing" Gotham's problems that Nolan disagrees with.)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">When Bruce masters the riddle-like nature of the pit that serves as the prison's sole means of escape (like the Penrose Steps in <em>Inception</em>, it's a piece of architecture that carries with it a lot of narrative and psychological meaning) and climbs to safety, it's a moment of exhilaration so palpable you may actually feel your heart thumping in your chest excitedly. (The soaring crescendos of the invaluable Hans <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Zimmer's score and the awestruck reaction shots of Tom Conti as Bruce's prison confidante deserve some of the credit too.) The scene perfectly sets the tone for a third act full of rousing payoffs. The mammoth action scenes, triumphant tonal upswing, and indelible character moments (like Batman's moving way of telling Gary Oldman's Commissioner Gordon he's Bruce Wayne) act as giddy rewards for those of us who have embraced Nolan's trilogy with an admittedly fanboy-ish passion.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Even the reveal of Miranda's betrayal of Bruce, though obviously a dark surprise, is counterbalanced by Selina finding within herself the bravery and moral commitment to fight alongside Batman. Nolan is very savvy about creating character dualities and mirror images, and just as there are parallels between Bruce, Blake (an orphan who finds a constructive social outlet for his anger) and Bane (a former pupil of Ra's al Ghul and onetime inhabitant of the prison Bruce is trapped in for the second act), Selina is pointedly established as Talia's heroic doppelganger. Whereas Talia found the strength to escape a realm of male violence (Nolan and <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Zimmer incorporating the Star Spangled Banner into the score during Talia's escape from the prison is almost Spike Lee-esque in its awesome, ballsy symbolic bluntness), Selina summons the strength to stay--to not escape--and fight it head-on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The hopefulness extends to the film's epilogue. While Nolan fans are accustomed to his tactic of furiously cross-cutting between horrific and intense simultaneous narrative occurences, it's a beautiful change of pace to see that signature stylistic move applied to simultaneous happy endings: Blake picking up the Bat-mantel; Gordon returning to the bat signal; and, most important of all, Bruce Wayne finally putting the past behind him and beginning the life that Alfred has always wanted for him. These final moments attest to why <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em> will endure as a great film beyond the unfortunate tragedy it has been associated with: it's a work of genuine joyousness and genre enthusiasm, clearly intended by Nolan to send you out of the theatre coasting on only positive vibes. <strong>Grade: A</strong></span>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-56802050811298250012012-01-23T17:30:00.000-08:002012-01-23T17:30:14.019-08:00The Best Films of 2011: The Top TenConsidering that I could always write a separate blog entry on the major film trends of 2011 and other categorized highlights of the year (best performances and whatnot) at some near-future point, I'm inclined to skip a proper introduction altogether and just dive right into my top ten. With no further ado:<br />
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<b>1. <i>The Tree of Life </i>(Terrence Malick). </b>The sheer scope, ambition, and artistry of Malick's mammoth achievement is downright humbling. Any critic attempting to do justice to this simultaneously intimate and grandiose epic can only tremble when faced with the task. And yet here I stand, making a noble effort! (Who says this profession isn't heroic, right?) Singular poetic visionary Malick has made his best film yet in a remarkable (if hardly prolific) career by swinging for the fences in a manner rarely seen since Stanley Kubrick's <i>2001: A Space Odyssey</i> threw down the cosmic-auteur-statement gauntlet nearly 45 years ago. <i>The Tree of Life</i> addresses death, life, love, family, God, the universe, and just about every other pertinent issue we all ponder during the most emotionally fraught times in our adult lives. As a stern patriarch who is thankfully never one-dimensionally villified, Brad Pitt demonstrates that his facility for suggesting roiling emotions underneath a cultivated facade has improved with middle age, and there may be more about him further down the list. (I know, I know--spoiler alert!) Playing protagonist Jack (Sean Penn) as a child, Hunter McCracken is one of those refreshingly natural kid actors who don't seem to be acting at all. But for me, the dominant performance here is from 2011 breakout Jessica Chastain, who creates a distinctive maternal presence through her unique and touching combination of innocence, tenderness, and fragility. The emotional force of her work befits a movie that goes beyond being a beautiful cinematic art object--though, boy howdy, it sure is that--to connect the medium to our shared human experience in a truly vital way.<br />
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<b>2. <i>Hugo </i>(Martin Scorsese). </b>Though he's indisputably one of America's greatest filmmakers, Scorsese seemed to be taking a major creative risk by making a big-budget family film (in ever-divisive 3D!). That concern was only amplified by the unfortunate trailer for <i>Hugo</i>, which features a lot of context-free slapstick backed by the grating sound of 30 Seconds to Mars on the soundtrack. To say that the finished film makes those pre-release doubts look idiotic in hindsight is an understatement. Rich, dazzling, and incredibly moving, <i>Hugo</i> is another masterpiece from a filmmaker who makes little else. Scorsese's auteur stamp is evident everywhere: his anthropological interest in dissecting insular communities can be seen in his treatment of the train station that little Hugo (Asa Butterfield) resides in as a self-contained neighborhood, full of indelible supporting characters; the see-sawing moods and grief-fueled anger that make Hugo as fascinatingly mercurial a protagonist as Travis Bickle or Billy Costigan; and, of course, the secret of sad, old Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley, in his best performance since <i>Sexy Beast</i>), which I'll refrain from revealing, since I can think of a few friends who have yet to experience <i>Hugo</i> (I can't be disappointed in them, because again, that <i>trailer</i>!). Writer John Logan's adaptation of Brian Selznick's book is the most thematically dense and narratively surprising piece of family film writing since Brad Bird's similarly Paris-set <i>Ratatouille</i>. One of the key themes is the way in which the world of machines can overlap with the world of the human heart. Scorsese, whose sublime and utterly jaw-dropping use of 3D composition manages to augment the nearly overwhelming emotions of Hugo's story rather than get in the way of them, has made a film that is itself proof that a piece of technology can be very much alive.<br />
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<b>3. <i>Moneyball</i> (Bennett Miller). </b>Here's a bit of list-nerd statistical trivia, which is entirely apropos, considering <i>Moneyball</i> burrows so obsessively into the world of baseball data it's like the thinking person's sports-movie equivalent of <i>All the President's Men</i> or <i>Zodiac</i>: Miller's film was originally in the number-five slot on this list, but a second viewing last weekend revealed it to be even more intelligent and emotionally textured than I had remembered. What made Miller's non-documentary debut, <i>Capote</i>, so auspicious was how he balanced an icy, spare style with an extreme focus on Philip Seymour Hoffman's performance in the title role, while at the same time subtly respecting some of the mysteries of that central, real-world-based character. <i>Moneyball</i> is a staggering follow-up that manages to marry those artful character-study virtues--this time out, Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) is the ambiguously regarded biographical subject instead of Truman Capote--with a healthy abundance of crowd-pleasing tough talk (supplied by co-writer Aaron Sorkin, whose precision is dizzying), badass underdog triumphs, and movie-star swagger. Pitt, of course, supplies the latter, in a career-peak performance that organically combines all the qualities that have made him so beloved over the years--his Zen calmness, his Young Redford authority, his clownish eccentricity (yep, he indulges that hilariously mannered eating tic of his), and, crucially, that flicker of instability that David Fincher really nurtured in him. Miller and Pitt make Billy fascinatingly quixotic and near-mad; underneath the character's bravado is an insecurity and fear of failure that occasionally rise to the surface in shocking ways, never more so than in the movie's pulverizing final shot (and music cue), which packs a wallop that only cements <i>Moneyball</i> as a magical merging of art and entertainment.<br />
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<b>4. <i>Melancholia </i>(Lars von Trier).</b> I raved about Danish provocateur von Trier's ravishingly imagined yowl of apocalyptic despair right here on this blog over the summer, and have little to add to my review, which I'll re-post here: http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2011/08/728-viewing-journal-early-review.html. But it's worth reemphasizing that von Trier's magnificent audacity--that brilliant two-part structure! that cinema-orgasm prologue!--is matched by the ferocity and commitment of Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg, who ensure that their sibling characters are as palpably human as they are allegorically fertile. It's von Trier's attention to that kind of character nuance that makes this his most satisfyingly well-rounded achievement since 1996's <i>Breaking the Waves</i>.<br />
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<strong>5. <em>Midnight in Paris </em>(Woody Allen). </strong>This bewitching and stealthily wise late-career triumph for the Woodman begins with a beautiful, classical-music-scored montage of the titular metropolis, which immediately calls to mind the opening of Allen's <em>Manhattan</em>. However, as <em>Midnight in Paris</em> goes on, it reveals itself to actually be a companion piece to a different career landmark for the director, <em>The Purple Rose of Cairo</em>. Like that '85 love letter to the movies, <em>Midnight</em> explores the painfully adult crisis of having to choose between retreating blissfully but unhealthily into a world of pure fantasy and responsibly taking on the present-day real world, with all its nagging imperfections. Owen Wilson has such a distinctive and effortlessly funny vocal rhythm that there's no mistaking him for an overly imitative "Woody stand-in" figure, but more than that, his performance has the proper undertow of melancholy to suggest how difficult that tug-of-war between fantasy and reality is for the character. It's gratifying that Allen has received his first Directors' Guild nomination since <em>Crimes and Misdemeanors</em> 22 years ago for this, since it reasserts his behind-the-camera mastery (as opposed to his more frequently celebrated scripting) in small but forceful ways. The period recreation of Wilson's fantasy scenes is opulent and immersive without calling undue attention to itself, the framing of every shot is exquisite, and I just love bathing in the gold-and-black glow of Allen and d.p. Darius Khondji's artful coloring, which ensures that Wilson isn't the most butterscotch visual element on display. It speaks to Woody's range that <em>Midnight</em> is a lighter achievement than his other great movie of the new millenium, <em>Vicky Cristina Barcelona</em>, but is no less profound.<br />
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<strong>6. <em>The Skin I Live In</em> (Pedro Almodovar). </strong>It would be easy to imagine a gifted but precociously shock-cinema-enamored young director like, say, Chan-wook Park, or, more to the point, the more gleefully button-pushing Almodovar of the late '80s taking the wildly lurid basic premise of <em>The Skin I Live In</em> and making something vivid but too alienating-for-its-own-sake out of it. Instead, the now-62-year-old Almodovar, who has reached a peak of supreme confidence and precision as an artist over the past decade or so while (thankfully) having lost none of his taste for ripe melodrama, brings a maturity to <em>The Skin I Live In</em> that renders it an unusually refined, elegant, and even humane horror freak-out. Ever the playful storyteller, Almodovar performs a commanding, time-shuffling narrative strip tease that makes this the most flat-out spellbinding movie of his since <em>Talk to Her</em>, and he riffs on dominant inspirations <em>Frankenstein</em> and <em>Vertigo</em> in a manner that goes deeper than mere homage. The central character of Vera (Elena Anaya) is where the influence of those classics can most clearly be seen, but she also acts as a provocative extension of Almodovar's very personal, career-long interest in gender and sexual identity. So, in spite of the burning obsession of Antonio Banderas' great performance as a misguided mad scientist, this lush and enveloping work of genre art belongs to Anaya, whose fierce strength sucks us into Almodovar's labyrinth.<br />
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<strong>7. <em>Project Nim</em> (James Marsh). </strong>Like <em>Melancholia</em>, this is a film I covered thoroughly for the blog before: <a href="http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2011/07/726-viewing-journal-reviews-of-project.html">http://brettbuck.blogspot.com/2011/07/726-viewing-journal-reviews-of-project.html</a>. What's key to mention again is that I sincerely believe this to be a documentary that even mainstream viewers normally averse to non-fiction filmmaking are likely to find deeply involving and emotionally affecting. <em>Man on Wire</em> Oscar winner Marsh deserves a second Academy Award for bringing a Morris-esque inventive, free-form style and a well-judged, never shrill sense of outrage to this infurating yet ultimately inspiring story of a chimp who became collateral damage in a scientific endeavor run by allegedly more evolved and intelligent primates.<br />
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<strong>8. <em>The Adventures of Tintin</em> (Steven Spielberg).</strong> For years, I've put forth the theory that the experience of making <em>Schindler's List</em> changed Spielberg so much as an artist that he's now no longer capable of delivering the kind of pure escapist blockbuster that he used to be such a master of in the '70s and '80s. This isn't to deny that certain action set pieces in post-<em>Schindler</em> films have that unmistakable Spielberg flair (<em>Minority Report</em> has a couple humdingers), but those set pieces are couched in movies defined by dark, despairing, and sinister subtextual undercurrents. Now here comes <em>The Adventures of Tintin</em>, an old-school adventure yarn that's proudly devoid of heavy thematic ruminations, and all I can say is: whoops! <em>Tintin</em> is an uncommonly exhilarating popcorn-movie ride, and what's also uncommon is how Spielberg brings a real artistry, not just genre craftsmanship, to an admittedly weightless bit of fun. His peerless gift for visual composition allows him to sneak in many mischievously witty gags within the frame, and he takes advantage of the freedom afforded him through performance-capture animation (thank goodness those faces look more expressive now!) to shoot the movie's most awe-inspiring set pieces in vertiginous long takes. Detractors who gripe about the youthful protagonist (voiced by Jamie Bell) being defined only by his thirst for adventure are missing the point entirely. Whenever Spielberg focuses on a child or young-adult character, it's always as an interesting point of identification, thus making <em>Tintin</em> a surprising and joyous reaffirmation of the incongruously boyish adrenaline rush that fuels its aging auteur's passion for filmmaking.<br />
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<strong>9. <em>We Need to Talk About Kevin </em>(Lynne Ramsay). </strong>In her second feature, 2002's <em>Movern Callar</em>, Scottish director Ramsay mastered the art of subjetive-point-of-view cinematic storytelling--using images, edits, and an intricate sound design to plunk the viewer directly into the central character's noggin. For her audacious, long-awaited (like Malick, Ramsay is a genius who really should work more often) follow-up, <em>We Need to Talk About Kevin</em>, Ramsay applies that intuitive talent to an unlikely subgenre--the demon-seed horror movie--and, as a result, ends up granting that subgenre a much-needed artistic legitimacy. That makes <em>Kevin</em> coincidentally similar to <em>The Skin I Live In</em>; both films redeem potentially disreputable exploitation elements via an understanding of how even the most lowbrow genre material can be infused with rich character and thematic undercurrents. Ramsay's gorgeously abstract non-chronological shifts between past and present mirror the flow of memories that clutch Eva (Tilda Swinton), who can't help but blame herself for raising a very disturbed son who ends up...well, let's just say he commits a heinous atrocity that merits discussion, as per the title. The formidable Swinton is a marvel at embodying the two sides of Eva we see--the frustrated mother who regards parenthood as a riddle she can't figure out, and the town pariah who has been transformed by guilt and shame into a meek, withering shell of her former self. Ramsay coats the movie in an air of dread so consuming that I walked out of the movie feeling shaken and positively poisoned by it, and underneath that dread is an assessment of parenthood that bracingly goes against the suger-coated norm.<br />
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<strong>10. <em>13 Assassins </em>(Takashi Miike). </strong>Sometimes the shrewdest and most effective action movies are those that consciously mimic a roller-coaster trajectory--an unapologetically long build-up followed by a giddy plunge downward. (Think of <em>The Matrix</em>, for example--the necessary world-building exposition leading to a glorious cascade of awesomeness.) Miike, who, unlike other directors on this list, tends to be <em>too</em> prolific, has made his most fully realized film since the genuinely progressive torture-porn-slash-gender-relations-study whatsit <em>Audition</em> by adhering to this structure and making it his own. The stakes-establishing first half of <em>13 Assassins</em> has proven too deliberately paced for some--and, indeed, there's a chance the film would be higher on my list if the right five or so minutes were trimmed--but there's something refreshingly neo-classical in the calm, patient manner in which Miike depicts the rounding-up of the titular team. Once the baker's dozen of warriors is assembled, Miike then cuts loose with a dazzling, brilliantly choreographed climax that effectively takes up the entire latter half of the film. The mega-sized set piece is as gloriously kinetic and impressively sustained as the hospital-set finale of John Woo's action milestone <em>Hard-Boiled</em>. As with that film, and with the other remarkable movies that made this list of the best of '11, <em>13 Assassins</em> leaves you in an enraptured state where you truly can't believe what you're seeing.Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-41146644886115861832012-01-12T00:03:00.000-08:002012-01-12T11:05:53.536-08:00The Best Films of 2011: The Runners-Up<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, it would be highly illogical to pretend I've taken only a short hiatus from this blog, to put it mildly. In my defense, though, the discipline required to write good-si<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zed reviews of every single movie I see--both theatrically and in a home-viewing context--without any discernible financial benefit was more than I could muster. (I really didn't see much of a spike in freelance opportunities once I began promoting the blog, aside from the editors I frequently write for making sure some gigs came my way. Love you, editors!) At the same time, though, I'm way too much of a nerd and way too invested in exercising my writing muscles to retire this blog entirely. So, to my readers, thank you for your support and please be aware Loves of a Blonde is not dead.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">I figured the best way to breathe some life into the blog would be to do a two-part series on the best films of 2011. I actually haven't published a best-of-the-year list since 2007, which is awfully negligent of me, considering I sincerely love the annual list-making process. I'm open-minded enough to see why some critics have grown jaded towards the act of compiling their own lists, but it's simply not an attitude I share. For me, a best-of-year list is a valuable, time-capsule-esque record of the truly special films to emerge in a given year--the ones that have a genuine shot at enduring over time as memorably great films. It's also a way of directing readers towards movies that they'll likely feel just as passionate about once seen, and additionally, I see my own list as interacting with other critics' lists in an essential dialogue. I know that, for example, before I watch an older film on cable, I'll scan through the assembled ten-best lists of other members of my Yahoo! movie-nerd group to see if it's worth a look.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And while returning to best-list making in an unpaid capacity has an obvious downside, there is a significant upside: total, editors-be-damned freedom. This is already evident in my rampant use of first-person, which is often a no-no, but I aim to use it elegantly, and besides, I think it's suitable for subjective list making. And in my first move beyond introductory throat-clearing, I'd like to indulge in rattling off some of the well-liked 2011 releases I didn't get around to seeing, which I haven't had the chance to do professionally before in a list-making piece. So my apologies to <em>Senna</em>, <em>The Arbor</em>, <em>The Future</em>, <em>Pariah</em>, <em>Pina</em>, <em>Le Quattro Volte</em>, <em>Tuesday After Christmas</em>, <em>Mysteries of Lisbon</em>, <em>House of Pleasures</em>, <em>The Interrupters</em>, and <em>Like Cra</em><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>zy</em>. If I had tried to cram in viewings of all of those, I never would've gotten around to this piece in a timely fashion. I'll certainly try to catch up with them down the line, and if any of them inspire me to adjust the 2011 list, I now have a forum to do just that.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The totally liberated nature of this blog also allows me to address every 2011 release that I found particularly "list-worthy," so here are 11 movies that didn't make my top 20 but are still pretty great, listed in preferential order:</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>21.</strong> <strong><em>Coriolanus </em>(Ralph Fiennes)</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>22. <em>The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo </em>(David Fincher)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>23. <em>Rubber </em>(Quentin Dupieux)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>24. <em>Certified Copy </em>(Abbas Kiarostami)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>25. <em>Weekend</em> (Andrew Haigh)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>26. <em>The Myth of the American Sleepover</em> (David Robert Mitchell)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>27. <em>Rebirth</em> (Jim Whitaker)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>28. <em>Tabloid</em> (Errol Morris)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>29. <em>Pearl Jam Twenty</em> (Cameron Crowe)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>30. <em>Being Elmo: A Pupeteer's Journey </em>(Constance Marks)</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>31. <em>Insidious</em> (James Wan)</strong></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">And now, for my closest ten runners-up, which I feel each deserve the distinction of a brief write-up:</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>11. <em>Bridesmaids</em> (Paul Feig). </strong>What makes <em>Bridesmaids</em> the most satisfying and infectiously entertaining comedy off of the Judd Apatow Assembly Line since <em>The 40-Year-Old Virgin</em> is that, like that 2005 mainstream-comedy landmark, it anchors its pleasurably ample belly laughs with a genuine humanity. Annie, played with revelatory nuance by <em>SNL</em>'s fearless Kristen Wiig (who also co-wrote the screenplay with Annie Mumolo), is like an unfortunate number of over-30 singletons who have hit an economic wall and can't help but drown their sorrows to near-excess. While I politically sympathi<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">ze with the consensus that the film represents a progressive step forward for women in mainstream comedy, I believe that viewpoint obscures the achievement that <em>anyone</em>, of any gender and background, can relate to a humanly flawed protagonist like Annie. And, like all the best comedies that Apatow has either produced or directed, <em>Bridesmaids</em> still manages in spite of its admirable dark shadings to send you out of the theatre in a giddy high.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>12. <em>Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives </em>(Apichatpong Weerasethakul). </strong>I'll admit that after my first exposure to beloved Thai auteur Weerasethakul, affectionately called the more Western-friendly "Joe" by his non-local fans, I was concerned he wasn't my cup of tea. It was his <em>Syndromes and a Century</em>, a film inspired by the time his parents first met that I believe only <em>he</em> could make complete sense of, that scared me off. But <em>Uncle Boonmee</em> rewarded me for giving him another chance and then some. His pacing still has a tropical langour to it, but this time, by marrying that unique rhythm to a relatively accessible story that profoundly reflects on the connection between the living and the spirit world, he's made one of the year's trippiest and most hypnotic art-film experiences. His particular surrealism veers from the eerie to the wryly deadpan in an uncanny way, and he fully immerses the viewer in the spirit world of the Thai jungle. I find it wonderful that mainstream fantasist Tim Burton was the Cannes Film Festival jury head who rewarded esoteric fantasist Weerasethakul with the Palme d'Or, and now I'll look forward to what both auteurs have to offer next.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>13. <em>The Muppets</em> (James Bobin). </strong>As with <em>Pearl Jam Twenty</em>, I can't deny I'm in the tank for this reboot; I'm a child of the '80s, after all. But <em>The Muppets</em> actually manages to soar above the expectations of even the most loyal fans of Kermit and company, and a lot of the credit goes to writers Jason Segel (who also stars, and famously used his newly acquired clout to get this project off the ground) and Nicholas Stoller, whose meta-level satire questions whether Jim Henson's sincere-to-the-core creations can thrive in an increasingly cynical marketplace. By the time the movie reaches its genuinely touching let's-put-on-a-show climax, the answer has become an emphatic "yes," with Segel and Stoller arguing for the importance of the virtues of family, friendship, and community in the bottom-line-fixated realm of show business. The songs are witty, <em>Flight of the Conchords</em> veteran Bobin lends a nice mock-Technicolor <span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zest to the big numbers, and, well, I even got teary-eyed. Who would've guessed<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">?</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>14. <em>Shame</em> (Steve McQueen). </strong>It's unusual to adopt a defensive posture on a film so critically acclaimed, but it's troubling that the vocal detractors of <em>Shame</em> insist that it relies on the same finger-wagging moralism that fuels the weakest addiction tales in film history. (And sorry, but I'm thinking of something like Billy Wilder's career-worst <em>The Lost Weekend</em> here.) Instead, I think what McQueen and star Michael Fassbender pull off (and this really is a movie where the lead actor is a key collaborator) is an honest, non-judgmental, and piercing glimpse into what lies behind addiction: a sad and aching need to not be left alone with one's personal demons. Fassbender embodies that need with a masterfully interiori<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zed performance, and McQueen, coming off of his equally great debut <em>Hunger</em>, has such a beautiful visual aesthetic that I have no idea how anyone can walk out claiming this is the kind of addiction tale you need to shower after. As writers, McQueen and co-scripter Abi Morgan (the mastermind behind BBC's verbally da<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">z<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zling <em>The Hour</em>) withhold artificial exposition in a really fresh way, a strategy that pays off in a key third-act brother-and-sister showdown that contains the most movingly urgent acting of Carey Mulligan's career. This is a tough film, but don't mistake it for a lecturing one.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>15. <em>Beginners</em> (Mike Mills). </strong>The reason why Christopher Plummer should win the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his magnificent performance in <em>Beginners</em> has nothing to do with the impeccable Academy Award track record of heterosexual actors playing gay characters (Tom Hanks in <em>Philadelphia</em>, Philip Seymour Hoffman in <em>Capote</em>, etc.), nor is it related to the perception that this veteran is "due," although try <em>not</em> being sentimental about an actor so downright awesome. It's because Plummer, as Hal Fields, a patriarch who comes out of the closet to his now-adult son (Ewan McGregor), gives the rare supporting performance that suggests a full life outside the boundaries of the movie. There's such a specificity to the twinkly-eyed vigor Plummer graces Hal with; this is a vividly drawn individual embracing the life that he has always wanted for himself even when on the verge of death. (Not a spoiler. Trust me.) McGregor and Melanie Laurent also deserve a mention for the delicate dance of fear and hope they suggest as their characters fall hopelessly in love. Writer-director Mills leaps forward nicely from his solid but more undistinguished debut <em>Thumbsucker</em>, and he redeems the trope of the "autobiographical film" via his fluid and confident leaps forward and backward in time. More than anything, he's made a film with such a big heart it'll make you cry for all sorts of reasons.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>16. <em>Margin Call </em>(J.C. Chandor). </strong>Charles Ferguson's <em>Inside Job</em>, a documentary on the '08 financial crisis, was meticulous and reasonably absorbing, and I respect what Curtis Hanson brought to the generically scripted HBO film <em>Too Big to Fail</em>, but I began to fear that no one would make a movie about the Wall Street collapse that I'd have any desire to watch more than once. So it's bracing to report that young upstart Chandor has done just that with his very first film, a slick, briskly paced satire on the collapse of the 1% that is elevated by Chandor's staggering gift at capturing the macho verbal bravado of men who became too rich at too young an age. As a writer, he's clearly influenced by the verbal snap and laid-bare masculine floundering of David Mamet's <em>Glengarry Glen Ross</em>, but this is no mere imitation. Chandor keys into the times we live in with unshowy verve, and he's wise enough to balance his satiric bite with a compassion for everyone onscreen, even the most shark-like suits. One of the year's best ensemble casts includes standout turns from Jeremy Irons, Paul Bettany, <span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Z</span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">achary Quinto, Stanley Tucci, Simon Baker (!), and, in his best performance in years, Kevin Spacey as a higher-up who brings a surprisingly Willy Loman-esque decency in his approach to work and family.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>17. <em>Drive </em>(Nicolas Winding Refn). </strong>I think it's obnoxiously cynical to focus on nitpicks in best-of pieces, so let's get this out of the way: Albert Brooks should be nowhere near the Supporting Actor race for his <em>Drive</em> work. Don't get me wrong--he's an indisputable genius, and often underrated for his acting skills. But he's just playing a standard-issue villain here, and the tiresome imitation-Tarantino nature of many of his third-act scenes is what prevents this movie from being higher on my list. Now, for the very, very good news: <em>Drive</em> is a mash-up of '80s-style action movie and formally audacious, defiantly leisurely love story that plays, at its frequent best, like Michael Mann's <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em>. It's just as addictive and irresistible as that description suggests, and Refn, the brash stylist of the criminally underseen <em>Bronson</em>, uses Los Angeles as a limitless genre-movie playground. He and his magical director of photography Newton Thomas Sigel are so opulent in their use of the widescreen frame you'd swear the movie was shot in Cinerama or some similar maximi<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zing format. Ryan Gosling has had a hell of a year, and I wish he was more of a presence in the Best Actor Oscar race for his freakishly controlled work as the Driver; it's not only an iconic performance, but a breathtakingly precise one. And naturally, he dominates in the movie's centerpiece sequence--an elevator trip that is horrific, sexy, and as sterling a piece of cinema-for-its-own-sake as you're likely to see all year.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>18. <em>Cave of Forgotten Dreams </em>(Werner Her</strong><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>zog) </strong>When I finally caught up with Her<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zog's other '11 release, <em>Into the Abyss</em>, I was a tad disappointed; it's hardly a bad film, but when seeing Her<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zog use his signature "evocative handheld tracking shots accompanied by strings-heavy music" documentary approach in capturing mundane Texas crime scenes, it's hard not to feel that he's just aesthetically making lemonade with some poorly picked lemons. In contrast, <em>Cave of Forgotten Dreams</em> finds him leaping into the unknown, which is where he does his best work. His camera lingers on the surprisingly detailed early-humankind drawings in France's Chauvet Cave, and in this context, the effect is mesmeri<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">zing and dream-like. Thematically, he's pondering the need for artistic expression that has united us all throughout time, and he's so shrewd a combination of rigorous artist and affable stoner-philosopher that he gets the audience pondering right along with him. Perhaps more impressively, he uses the divisive format of 3D with such tactile assurance that even the sight of jutting calcite ridges provokes an awestruck response. <em>Cave of Forgotten Dreams</em> is a work of such primitive wonder that it's hardly a knock to say that I'm not sure I'd want to rewatch it in 2D on a small screen. It's built to envelop you.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>19. <em>Contagion</em> (Steven Soderbergh). </strong>There are plenty of people irked by how much of a pseudo-Godardian, intellectual-art-film court jester Soderbergh has become, and he's hardly infallible (<em>The Good German</em> is just painful). But for me, the majority of his recent films, no matter how quickly turned out, are so alive with cinematically vivid style and ticklish subtext as to render concerns about him becoming too much of an alienating weirdo entirely moot. <em>Contagion </em>is no exception. Its procedural density in portraying how the world would deal with the spread of a lethal virus is intoxicating for those of us who enjoy turning our brains <em>on</em> for a genre movie every now and then. The provocative subtext here, conveyed with frightening plausibility, is that unavoidable modern-world realities like money and politics would prevent us from immediately finding and spreading a cure if this scenario were to play out outside the multiplex. Yes, it's a cold film, but it's also quite audacious for a big-studio release, and Soderbergh could do far worse for a counterbalancing warmth vaccine than Matt Damon. I don't know quite when Damon became the new heir to the Jimmy Stewart and Tom Hanks tradition of unsentimental goodness, but he's now one of the most reliable screen presences we have.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>20. <em>A Separation</em> (Asghar Farhadi). </strong>Conventional dramatic wisdom dictates that tension is derived from pitting a hero worth rooting for against an unambiguously hissable villain, but <em>A Separation</em> is interested only in the gray area between good and bad and yet manages to be so in-the-moment engrossing that it's the rare film that would leave me stumped as to its runtime if I didn't obsessively know it beforehand (123 minutes, for the record). It would take more than a best-list capsule to explore the movie's thought-provoking reflections on class, religion, and gender in Iranian society, but there's a level on which the movie genuinely transcends politics to dig into universal themes of ethical responsibility, what any person wants for his or her family, and the way immense stress can chip away at anyone's better nature. <em>A Separation</em> is a domestic drama, but its DNA is taken from the morally complex courtroom thrillers of the great Sidney Lumet. It may seem odd to praise a distributor in a piece like this, but I love that Sony Pictures Classics is flying so under-the-radar with this that every audience member can discover Farhadi's achievement for him- or herself, blessedly hype-free. The word-of-mouth on this film may lead to it being a surprise stateside hit among adults hungry for something fresh and meaty. Not to get too Travers-y, but you do not want to miss this.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">With my tendency to ramble, I feel it'll be best to wait a few days on my Top Ten piece, for my sake and my readers' sake. In the meantime, please add the films among my runners-up you haven't seen to your rental queues, and feel free to comment on what you agree or disagree with. Then, on or before Monday, I'll unleash my list of the ten best films of 2011.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-40555425903102273262011-08-31T01:04:00.000-07:002012-01-12T10:53:05.672-08:008/8 Viewing JournalNothing viewed this day, a development that comes in handy during a catch-up period like this. I just caught a TV promo for an upcoming family-targeted dolphin movie that revealed one thing the supreme acting deity Morgan Freeman can't do: make the exclamation "come on, fish!" sound anything but ridiculous. (The fact that it was directed towards a mammal doesn't help matters.) Just thought I'd share.Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-46840819761856328242011-08-31T00:59:00.000-07:002011-08-31T00:59:17.089-07:008/7 Viewing Journal (review of "Predators")I remember talking to some people who caught the prequel/sequel/reboot/who-the-fuck-cares-at-the-end-of-the-day <em>Predators</em> (2010, Nimrod Antal) in its theatrical release who complained that a more-buffed-up-than-usual Adrien Brody copped a distractingly gravelly, guttural vocal tone for his anti-hero character. The thing is, those people are right in their descriptions of Brody's performance, but dead wrong in their judgment of it. Brody makes for an entirely credible and winning badass here, and unlike <em>King Kong</em>, which he seemed to get lost in (I'm still extremely fond of Peter Jackson's 2005 remake, in spite of Brody's bland contribution and the hilariously retrograde oogah-boogah Skull Island natives), this is a popcorn movie in which he makes some very interesting actorly choices, as if to forcefully remind viewers of his Oscar-winning status even in this shrug-inducing context. (I imagine the success of <em>Midnight in Paris</em> has rekindled some Brody love out there. "DALI!!")<br />
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Laurence Fishburne makes even stranger actorly choices in his extended cameo as a cuckoo-bananas survivor on the planet of the Predators. Other strong performance contributions are made by a steely, commandingly butch Alice Braga, and by Walton Goggins, who gets his biggest film showcase here after terrific TV work on <em>The Shield</em> and <em>Justified</em>.<br />
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There are other, very minor pleasures. The verdant jungle settings make this much less of an eyesore than the last Antal flick I saw, the typical-for-Screen-Gems, digitally-fuzzed-over <em>Vacancy</em>. A couple well-placed jolts and ferocious battle scenes keep the viewer alert enough.<br />
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But make no mistake: this is exactly what one would expect from a desperate, creatively bankrupt attempt to revitalize a franchise that should've been left to die years ago. Nothing more, nothing less. There is very little inspired dialogue aside from a few badass quips, and there are way too many scenes of characters skulking around aimlessly while wielding guns the size of suitcases. James Cameron made similar scenes crackle with tension in his sci-fi/action standard bearer <em>Aliens</em>, and I'd like to imagine Cameron watches a movie like <em>Predators</em> and weeps in frustration at what he has inadvertantly wrought. <strong>Grade: C+</strong>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-71855857543508750642011-08-31T00:04:00.000-07:002011-08-31T03:13:42.652-07:008/6 Viewing Journal (reviews of "A Taste of Cherry" and "Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy")Since writer-director Abbas Kiarostami's <em>Certified Copy</em>, an insightful gem from earlier this year, skillfully married a high-concept premise with a series of adult, leisurely philosophical back-and-forths, I was delighted to discover that his Cannes Film Festival prize-winner <em>A Taste of Cherry</em> (1998, Abbas Kiarostami), the first of his older films I've caught up with, pulls off an identical balancing act. Now here's another auteur who will lead me to raise my eyebrow in anticipation when future work from him is announced in film-festival line-ups. (As can be expected, my eyebrow doctor <em>loves</em> it when festival line-ups are unveiled.)<br />
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The high concept is this: Mr. Badii (Homayoun Ershadi), a man who hasn't yet reached old age, drives around the outskirts of Tehran asking various strangers if they will help him commit suicide. He has dug a grave for himself out in the wilderness, and he plans to swallow a large amount of sleeping pills and climb into the grave at nightfall. His instructions to every prospective assistant are as follows: the following morning, throw a rock at his body, and if he turns out to be alive, pull him out of the grave, but if he's dead, cover the grave with dirt.<br />
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Heavy stuff, to be sure, but also powerfully wise and moving due to Kiarostami's profound powers of perception. The filmmaker makes a passionate plea for the value of every human life on Earth, and Ershadi's performance adds welcome complication. He makes Mr. Badii hard-edged and stubborn, a real, flesh-and-blood creation who must earn the audience's interest in his survival instead of lazily inviting it right off the bat.<br />
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Kiarostami only errs in the film's wildly self-indulgent final moments, but he also seems to realize that the only right ending to the film is one that realizes that the multiple, eloquent arguments for embracing life that Mr. Badii encounters are far richer than any traditional narrative payoff ever could be. <strong>Grade: A-</strong><br />
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Comedy is subjective, and I recall one critic I greatly admire who gave the anarchic <em>Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy</em> (1996, Kelly Makin) (umpteenth viewing, second on the big screen) a damning "<strong>F</strong>" grade. (He smeared my favorite film of 2000, the Coen Brothers comedy <em>O Brother, Where Art Thou?</em>, with the same grade. Grrr. Believe it or not, he's made some great calls too over the years.). But under Makin's inventive direction, <em>Brain Candy</em> stands in my mind as one of the flat-out funniest sketch-comedy extensions ever made, and by far the most visually sophisticated.<br />
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So, if you haven't seen it and wonder if you'll love or hate it, what should you expect from it going in? Well, a healthy amount of <em>Dr. Strangelove</em>'s biting satire, a dose of mainstream-jostling, John Waters-style queer-positive subversion, and more than a few drops of the formal daring of film-comedy wizards such as the Coens and Wes Anderson. (I'd say the Coen film it most resembles is <em>The Hudsucker Proxy</em>, especially in the beautifully shot and cut, corporate-spoofing "red socks" sequence.) (Also, if you haven't seen it, it's about a pharmaceutical corporation, thus my oh-so-clever doctoral wording above.) More than anything, though, it reflects the very Canadian absurdity of sketch-comedy giants the Kids in the Hall. They specialize in the kind of gags that get funnier the more you think about them, which is rare to find these days. For example, when Dr. Chris Cooper (Kevin McDonald) checks in on batty, old patient Mrs. Hurdicure (Scott Thompson), who has taken an anti-depressant that is still in trials, she's being subjected to a test that requires her to swirl around in a zero-gravity, <em>Lawnmower Man</em>-type rig. What's most hilarious is reflecting on how nonsensical the touch is: how does the zero-gravity rig affect the anti-depressant's effects in any way, shape, or form? What did Cooper and his associates tell their superiors in order to secure funding for the rig? And so on.<br />
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Being in the minority that adores this comedy, I remember looking forward like few others were to Makin's follow-up, the Hugh Grant/James Caan vehicle <em>Mickey Blue Eyes</em>. Unfortunately, it turned out to be exactly the kind of dud that usually gets dumped into an end-of-summer release-date slot. But even if Makin turns out to end her career as a one-hit wonder, I would still say: what a hit! <strong>Grade: A</strong>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-46279199328984573252011-08-30T23:08:00.000-07:002011-08-30T23:14:51.467-07:008/5 Viewing Journal (reviews of "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," "Batman Begins," and "The Dark Knight")After the sluggish likes of <em>Captain America</em> and <em>Cowboys & Aliens</em>, it's a welcome change of pace to encounter a summer action blockbuster that moves with as much swift forward momentum and storytelling economy as <em>Rise of the Planet of the Apes</em> (2011, Rupert Wyatt). This is definitely a case where a movie's unfortunate, unwieldy title thankfully does not serve as a reflection of the decidedly light-footed movie in question.<br />
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And director Wyatt, whose previous experience helming the British prison movie <em>The Escapist</em> makes him an inspired choice for the proceedings (there's a certain point around the halfway mark where <em>Apes</em> evolves into a prison movie of an unconventional sort), finds all sorts of creative ways to accentuate movement and pace, from his furious cross-cutting between scientist Will Rodman's (James Franco) pitch to his superiors for human trials on an Alzheimer's cure and the movie's first action scene (Bright Eyes' rampage) to the way his camera swirls and flies around to keep up with agile chimp Caesar (played by Andy Serkis in a motion-capture performance).<br />
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But, as anyone who's had the pleasure of meeting Caesar knows, <em>Rise</em> isn't just an empty display of kinetics. Franco and John Lithgow form an affecting bond as Will and his Alzheimer's-afflicted father, and Caesar's simultaneously rousing and tragic, well, rise makes for one of the summer's best and most fascinating character arcs. As Caesar, Serkis is wonderfully nuanced, though talk of an outside-of-the-box Best Supporting Actor nomination for his work here is a case of stretching well-deserved praise a little too hyperbolically far. (I don't have any problem with vocal and/or motion-capture performances being nominated though, and I personally would've nominated Ellen DeGeneres in <em>Finding Nemo</em>, Ed Asner in <em>Up</em>, and, more to the point, Zoe Saldana in <em>Avatar</em> in their respective years of consideration.)<br />
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A handful of clumsy performances and individual scenes keep <em>Rise</em> from approaching popcorn-movie greatness (for that, keep reading this very post!). Tom Felton, best known as Draco Malfoy in the <em>Harry Potter</em> films, is just terrible as one of the chief villains, offering a hilariously mangled approximation of an American accent. Out of his marble mouth, the word "good" takes on an extra syllable (seriously, he adds a "y" in there somewhere). And a scene in which he and a group of buddies, apparently soused out of their minds after drinking a six-pack of Mirror Pond Pale Ale (!), abuse a group of caged chimps is too ineptly acted and staged to summon the intended outrage.<br />
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However, that's not to say the movie doesn't tremble with deeply felt outrage elsewhere. Suffice it to say, if you only see one film this summer that positions chimp abuse as a metaphor for the darker side of human nature, see <em>Project Nim</em>, but if Roadside Attractions' catastrophic (excuse for a) release of <em>Nim</em> kept it from playing in your city, by all means, see <em>Rise of the Planet of the Apes</em>. <strong>Grade: B+</strong><br />
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I remember shortly before the release of <em>Batman Begins</em> (2005, Christopher Nolan) (eigth viewing, fifth on the big screen), writer-director Nolan cited epic maestro David Lean as a primary influence on his superhero origin story. I can pinpoint the exact moment in his film when that lofty comparison begins to make absolute sense: Bruce Wayne, after being trained to conquer his fear by dubious mentors the League of Shadows, returns to an underground cave where his phobia of bats first manifested itself. As an enormous swarm of bats begin to surround Bruce, who is scarcely less sick-in-the-head than Lean anti-heroes T.E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole in <em>Lawrence of Arabia</em>) and Col. Nicholson (Alec Guinness in <em>The Bridge on the River Kwai</em>), he boldly stands still and allows the swarm to flutter against him. Nolan cuts to wider and wider shots of the bat-filled tableau, and the Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard score reaches its most operatic crescendo. To DC fanboys, this plays as "the birth of the Batcave," but for me, as with Lean's epics, the grandeur of the filmmaking and how it reflects the neurotic brand of heroism represented by the protagonist overwhelms rudimentary plot concerns.<br />
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And this repeat viewing reminds me of something else silly about certain fanboys: many complained that <em>Begins</em>' biggest shortcoming lay in the villains department, but that's ridiculously not the case. Cillian Murphy's deliciously off-kilter verbal cadences underline the Scarecrow's malevolent nerdiness, Tom Wilkinson's <em>intentionally</em> broad American accent (take that, Draco!) adds color to his mobster, and Liam Neeson's silky authority as a League of Shadows figurehead nicely compensates for some unfortunate facial hair. They're all terrific, though I wouldn't make a case for any of them giving the single best performance ever featured in a comic-book adaptation. <strong>Grade: A</strong><br />
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I would, on the other hand, make a case for Heath Ledger giving the single best performance ever featured in a comic-book adaptation, in <em>Begins</em> follow-up <em>The Dark Knight</em> (2008, Christopher Nolan) (umpteenth viewing, fifth or sixth on the big screen). Also, his performance is one of the few in film history to approximate the thrilling rush of unpredictability more typically inherent to live theatre. There's much more to say about both his performance and the film itself, which I hope to get to in a later blog post. I'm not going in-depth now not just because I've fallen behind in blogging, but also because a proper tribute to Ledger's monumental performance would be both creatively rewarding and emotionally draining to write.<br />
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The film itself stands as the most queasily unrelenting popcorn movie ever unleashed on a surprised (but also, clearly thrilled) public. (See: my comment in my <em>Bellflower</em> review on moviegoer masochism.) It just does not stop until your last nerve is fried to jelly.<br />
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Its final couple minutes manage to trump <em>Begins</em>' batcave intro when it comes to delivering Lean-esque warped grandeur; it's honestly hard for me to breathe during the conclusion. Batman/Bruce makes a final choice that cements his status as the most simultaneously noble and clinically insane of all superheroes, while amped-up cross-cutting and Gordon's monologue (how good is Gary Oldman in this, by the way?) accompany him carrying out that selfless/nutsoid choice. Then, bam, the closing-credits title card smacks you upside the head. Then, finally, you exhale. Perfect. So perfect that I <em>almost</em> believe Nolan should've ended the series with it, but like anyone else, I'm counting the days until the July 2012 relase of <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em>. <strong>Grade: A</strong><br />
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[Note: It seems to be an unspoken rule in the critical community never to use the "<strong>A+</strong>," and since I am but a freelancer, I won't challenge the orthodoxy. But I believe <em>The Dark Knight</em> would be fully and genuinely deserving of that grade.]Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-26600161420903718072011-08-17T22:06:00.000-07:002011-08-17T22:06:33.440-07:00Quick UpdateSorry, readers, for falling behind in my Viewing Journal updates. As I've segued this week from job-hunting to setting up work with a new freelance employer (good news, obviously), my brain has been fried by constant Kinko's trips, setting up macro-enabled format templates, and other such tasks. By Friday or Monday, I'll return to my regular cycle of balancing freelance work, job-hunting, and blog write-ups. So expect Viewing Journal updates to return with increased regularity around then, including reviews of box-office champ <em>Rise of the Planet of the Apes</em>, box-office failure (sigh) <em>Glee: The 3D Concert Movie</em>, and Abbas Kiarostami's Palme d'Or winner <em>A Taste of Cherry</em>. (Yes, my taste really is <em>that</em> wide-ranging, if I may say so without sounding immodest.)Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-22004459977715510632011-08-13T19:34:00.000-07:002011-08-13T19:34:00.900-07:008/4 Viewing JournalNo movies to write up, but on this Thursday, an episode of <em>Louie</em> aired that caused the phrase "great Dane Cook performance" to shed its oxymoronic status, and an episode of <em>Futurama</em> aired featuring a flashback in which Dr. Zoidberg was young, beloved by his Planet Express colleagues, and rockin' a Fonzie-esque pompadour ("It was a different time!" the hapless doctor explains, nearly apologetically, in the present day). So all was right with the world, it seems in retrospect.Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-48885418288520154562011-08-12T23:29:00.000-07:002011-08-12T23:29:27.580-07:008/3 Viewing Journal (reviews of "Rango" and "Wild Target")Revisiting <em>Rango</em> (2011, Gore Verbinski) (second viewing), I didn't get the same tequila-shot-esque buzz that I felt after seeing it the first time, but it wouldn't be just to lower my letter-grade rating of it. That's because only one element--writer John Logan's (<em>The Aviator</em>) ornate, Coen Brothers-influenced dialogue--actually felt weaker this time out on an objective level. (There's still no denying that Logan has done some clever work here--you gotta admire an animated movie that correctly and wittily uses the phrase "paradigm shift"--but it lacks the precision and detail that makes the Coens' dialogue surprising even on repeat viewings.) This is really just a case of being subjectively delighted by a mainstream, ostensibly child-targeted entertainment's loopy weirdness on initial viewing in a way that can't be duplicated in a DVD rewatching down the line.<br />
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Objectively, that loopy weirdness didn't go anywhere, and that's a very good thing. A Western riff that foregrounds its lizard protagonist's existential woes is a strange thing in and of itself, but director Verbinski and Logan don't stop there. They merrily inject some of <em>Chinatown</em> into the movie's DNA (and what makes it odd is that they don't just name-check the <em>film noir</em> classic in the lazy manner typical of DreamWorks Animation's lesser fare; they weave the Polanski film's portrait of water-industry corruption into the narrative and even make Ned Beatty's turtle villain a dead ringer for John Huston's Noah Cross) and pay homage to Clint Eastwood in the most surreal way imaginable.<br />
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Seeming to enjoy his freedom from the <em>Pirates of the Caribbean</em> franchise (only the second entry, <em>Dead Man's Chest</em>, felt fully liberated and goofy to me--yeah, I know I'm in the minority there), Verbinski does arguably his best visual work here; the deep-focus compositions successfully evoke obvious influence Sergio Leone. Verbinski's <em>Pirates</em> cohort Johnny Depp, who voices the heroic lizard, also responds well to the departure from Captain Jack Sparrow. His manic, rapid-fire verbal energy and occasional massive shifts in pitch (for example, when the lizard is play-acting different roles in his terrarium in the movie's opening scene) make this a voice-over performance worthy of comparison to his great, imaginative in-the-flesh work.<br />
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But, alas, my main quibble from first viewing still stands: the movie is overlong and narratively repetitive even at the normally-far-from-indulgent running time of 107 minutes. This is a problem that has reared its head in even Verbinski's good movies. I remember joking with a friend and colleague that studios should make it part of Verbinski's contract to never exceed 100 minutes.<br />
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Still, while <em>Rango</em> offers too much of a good thing, it's the rare animated movie that takes advantage of the form's potential to appeal to grown-ups, and at considerable commercial risk too. I recall the movie getting a "C+" CinemaScore grade from audiences, which is pretty dire considering that any animated movie that holds kids' attention scores in the "A"-range. Who can blame parents for walking into a movie expecting a Disney-esque diversion and then being angry when they walk out of it having to explain to tykes what ol' Noah Cross was up to in <em>Chinatown</em>? <strong>Grade: B+</strong><br />
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If you've seen and enjoyed the shrewd '90s hitman comedy <em>Grosse Pointe Blank</em>, then there's really no reason to bother with the countless lame rip-offs that followed in its wake. <em>Wild Target</em> (2010, Jonathan Lynn) is one of those disposable carbon copies of <em>Grosse Pointe</em>, arriving nearly 15 years after that John Cusack vehicle, and with all the freshness of a bowl of mothball soup.<br />
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Too bad, because a good movie could've been built around the central trio of actors here. Extraordinary, deadpan British character actor Bill Nighy (who voices Rattlesnake Jake in <em>Rango</em>!) is perfectly cast as Victor, a hitman lacking any kind of social life, and sharp, lovely Emily Blunt is just as well-suited to the role of Rose, a woman whose anger at being targeted by Victor overwhelms her gratefulness over his decision not to kill her. It's impressive that Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley from the <em>Harry Potter</em> series) is able to score laughs while pitted against two veteran co-stars, but he is indeed quite funny playing Tony, a stoner who becomes Victor's protege through a series of events too labored to be worth getting into. <br />
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In smaller roles, Martin Freeman (from the original BBC <em>The Office</em>), as a cartoonishly dentured killer, and Eileen Atkins, as Victor's ruthless mother, also register strongly.<br />
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But no amount of good acting can save a movie that stands around wanting to be hip and irreverent without any idea of how to go about accomplishing that goal. A subplot in which Victor can't figure out if he's attracted to Rose or Tony because his monk-like existence has caused some sexual confusion is inorganically tacked on and timidly executed. I'd be more forgiving of a movie in which the protagonist casually hooked up with both Blunt and Grint; they're both lookers, if Grint less conventionally so. But I suppose certain prospective ticket buyers would be scared away by such a movie, and not alienating ticket buyers is one of this pointless film's few discernible reasons for existence. <strong>Grade: C</strong>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6572908370460669936.post-8458297536714272982011-08-12T21:52:00.000-07:002011-08-12T21:52:34.638-07:008/2 Viewing Journal (review of "Bellflower")Nearly perfect debut films are so hard to come by that it's easy to embrace a first-time effort like <em>Bellflower</em> (2011, Evan Glodell), which treads upon some awfully problematic territory but is so viscerally effective as a wild, gratifyingly unpredictable cinematic ride that it's impossible not to applaud the size of writer-director-star Glodell's <em>cojones</em>.<br />
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At this point, I feel the need to emphasize that both the vehicular and testicular metaphors in the sentence above are entirely apropos considering the film under study. Glodell's character, Woodrow, happens to possess two admittedly sweet cars--one that boasts a built-in whiskey dispenser near the passenger seat, and another flame-spewing black beast, dubbed Medusa, that Woodrow and best friend Aiden (Tyler Dawson), both <em>Mad Max</em> fanatics, fantasize will guide them through an inevitable-to-them apocalypse--which gearhead Glodell actually tooled and polished specifically for the film. Glodell's automotive fetish is not the most aggressively masculine element of <em>Bellflower</em>--far from it, actually--which is practically drenched in testosterone. The machismo is so overwhelming that viewers who don't support a conventional, exclusionary definition of manhood as being all about physical strength, action over thought, and culturally acceptable "dude" hobbies like pimping rides will likely have little interest in seeing the film more than once.<br />
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However, while the movie's brute-force assaultiveness may keep it from being rewatchable, that quality is also what makes it so bracing and audacious upon first viewing, especially for those entering the theatre with little foreknowledge of what they're in for. Glodell's mumblecore-by-way-of-Spike TV approach, which favors inarticulate, manly men, really <em>shouldn't</em> work, but his careful structuring of the near-Neanderthal-level dialogue, inventive visual design (the images look scuffed and super-saturated in a grindhouse-influenced style that really pops), and, most importantly, gift for shocking narrative curveballs turn what could've been just an empty cinematic grunt into a luridly involving work of art. <br />
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As an actor, Glodell is nothing special, but he does have a nice, low-key chemistry with Jessie Wiseman, who plays Milly, a blonde that Woodrow falls for after competing with her in a bar's cricket-eating contest (a fresh variation on the Meet Cute). It's spoiling little to say that Woodrow and Milly's romance isn't destined for a "happily ever after" conclusion, and once the relationship goes south, both Woodrow and the movie itself become crazily unhinged.<br />
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It wouldn't be fair to describe the movie's intentional plunge into derangement in any more detail than that, but it's worth noting that certain narrative directions it heads in have raised charges of misogyny from detractors. I can think of one grueling third-act scene in particular that finds Glodell perilously walking a tightrope above a pit of dehumanizing exploitation, but thankfully he doesn't falter. He's so clearly interested in exposing the hetero-male mind's reaction to a painful break-up that the film's rage-fueled excesses feel entirely justified.<br />
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And the movie's increasingly violent second half is so propulsive and compellingly nuts that it's difficult to call it unpleasant even when it risks being just that. <em>Bellflower</em> serves as a reminder that moviegoing is an inherently masochistic pastime. It's a film that slaps you around quite a bit and leaves you thankful for the rough sensation. <strong>Grade: B+</strong>Brett Buckalewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03221146055642833865noreply@blogger.com0