The Lady Vanishes (Alfred Hitchcock, 1938) 76
Clever, endlessly entertaining black comedy/political thriller hybrid about a woman who disappears mysteriously during a train ride and the younger pair who are determined to find her. So basically it's like Flightplan except not a festering piece of shit.
Lady Vengeance (Chan-Wook Park, 2006) 56
And so it ends, not with a bang but a whimper. My friend Alex said it best: "It seems like they made this as an excuse to be pretty." While this in itself is not a bad reason to make a film, and it certainly is good-looking, that pesky "story" thing should also be given some thought. Oldboy combined gorgeous visuals with a existence-shakingly powerful narrative; Mr. Vengeance, though lesser, also managed to be successful on both fronts. This one, even taken on its own merits, is not as satisfying. Its fragmented structure is interesting, but it gets too tangled up in itself. I'm not an imperceptive guy, and there were places here where I felt like Park was specifically trying to beat around the bush instead of just TELLING me what happened. Also, I can't quite put my finger on it, but the group vengeance scene, in addition to being far too long and drawn-out and inappropriately played for comic effect, has something very off-putting about it. Sure, the whole trilogy is dark and mean-spirited and violent, but there was something about this that just did NOT feel right, and that certainly taints the film. So, yeah. It's flawed. Like crazy. Nonetheless, it IS entertaining and it IS pretty. I'd never go so far as to call it a bad film, but it just can't hold a candle to what came before.
La Femme Nikita (Luc Besson, 1990) 77
It's rare to see a film this flashy also have the appropriate amount of substance to back it up. For all its action movie stylings, La Femme Nikita is really just a glorified character piece. That it's successful in both regards makes it both highly entertaining and emotionally rewarding. What emerges is a very strong, assured piece of filmmaking. Besson has an appealing eye for aesthetics, and the visuals alone probably would have been enough for me to be decently satisfied by the film (the blue-tinted robbery scene that kickstarts the film is especially memorable), but it always goes one better and actually has something happening onscreen to complement the eye candy. The somewhat episodic story is deliberately paced, but engaging. I had no trouble whatsoever getting involved in Nikita's situation, in her actions and in her psychology. She's an appealing character given a very strong performance by a highly appealing actress. It's ... hell, it all just works. It's not an unqualified success, mind you. There are small gripes here and there, as there often are, but it's certainly not something I'd be bothered by watching again.
La Haine (Mathieu Kassovitz, 1995) 80
A gritty, powerful examination of violence and prejudice in the Parisian slums. One of the things that makes it work so well is its overarching sense of universality: although Vinz, Said, and Hubert are compelling individuals, one gets the feeling that this could have been an identical film even if it had focused on three completely different people. This, more than anything, speaks worlds about the hell these three young men inhabit. La Haine is at once a breath of fresh air and a sobering slap to the face: despite being stylish and technically proficient, it never glamorizes its brutality, and in opting for a character- rather than plot-driven structure (it's essentially a-day-in-the-life, following these guys around) it gives a scary and probably fairly accurate depiction of the sorts of things that happen in the projects on a day-to-day basis. Upon finishing it, it struck me as a film I want to see again very soon: not necessarily because I found it entertaining, but because of how artfully made it is, and how intricately detailed. I felt that, even having paid close attention, I hadn't gotten everything there was to get; that there are layers here, and repeated peeling back will only make the film stronger and more commendable. And even on the off chance that this isn't the case, what I got out of it the first time was tremendous enough just to make me want to see it again for the same experience.
Layer Cake (Matthew Vaughn, 2004) 44
My credo with films like this: the resolution has to be satisfying enough to justify the heavy lifting it makes you do in order to get there. The thing with Layer Cake is, I didn't just dislike the ending. I actively hated it. The ending is so bad that it takes an okayish, if incredibly twisty and convoluted, drug/gangster movie and turns it completely against itself. To go into detail would be to divulge some pretty huge spoilers, so I'll avoid it as best I can, but let it be said that the final moments of this film are so pointless and misguided that it undermines everything that's come before it. "I went through that, and this is what the film gives me?" It's infuriating. This is not an "easy" film: there's a small army of characters, each taking part in a myriad of crisscrossing plotlines that often become difficult to keep up with. You have to pay close attention. Luckily, I was told before seeing this that scrutiny was necessary. So I watched it attentively, traced its coiling story back until it made sense, and tried to follow the best I could. And in general I appreciate a film that makes me do this: it keeps me on my feet, keeps me interested. And, to be honest, Layer Cake handles itself fairly well. You spend the entire movie feeling like it could turn out to be a decent, if minor, triumph. But then it flips you the bird, spits in your face, and goes on its merry way. And I have to wonder why. What good could the filmmakers possibly have seen in this conclusion? In essence, the film does the same thing to itself that it does to its protagonist: screws over something perfectly acceptable, and emerges irreparably damaged because of it. Huh.
Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008) 81
It's something of a miracle that this film even exists. The vampire genre is so old, so worn out, and so cliched that I thought I never wanted to see another. But here's a film that effortlessly makes the vampire yarn seem fresh, exciting, and wonderful again. I honestly did not think it could be done. I think its biggest asset is its restraint: by not going for the throat (yes, pun intended) like many other films would, the story is allowed to unfold on its own terms and slowly and methodically engulf its viewers. And it's a story that works impressively well on a variety of levels: it's at once a movie about the pains of adolescence, a fledgling romance, and of course a girl-next-door with a dark and gory secret. How the film winds all of these elements up into a single package is delightful, and the directions it chooses to go in are as unexpected as they are satisfying. This is a dark film, yes, and creepy, but it's also surprisingly touching, sweet, and involving. I cared greatly about Oskar and Eli and hoped constantly that the film would lead them to a resolution both true to its tone and worthy of everything that had come before. It does, and watching them get there is one of the most pleasurable first-time viewings I've had in quite some time. I gather that the DVD will be released on March 10. I'll be there when it comes out.
Lifeboat (Alfred Hitchcock, 1944) 49
A very, very dated World War II statement that never really rises above its central one-location conceit. I didn't really care for it the first time I watched it, but the second time it's just -- pardon the description -- totally dry, if only for the fact that there are no surprises left to be had. It's the sort of thing where you get everything there is to get the first time; re-watching it simply isn't a rewarding exercise.
The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006) 85
I don't actually have too much to say about this one at the moment; I think the film, still immensely topical in 2009 despite its subtle yet highly symbolic (and historically accurate) choice to set itself in 1984, can largely speak for itself. It's an emotionally complex but narratively straightforward account of the Stasi's iron-fisted rule over East Germany, although taken down to a personal level that makes it both absorbing and effective. Though Dreyman and his girlfriend are the ones being spied on, the film's real rewards come from Captain Wiesler, whose gradual transformation makes up the film's backbone and gives it its powerful emotional center. While some may argue that the sudden series of flash-fowards at the end is tiresome, I'd contend that the film finds just about the perfect bittersweet note to end on. Overall, it's a fine example of how a film can get by on character and story alone. Despite a conspicuous lack of car chases, explosions, and special effects, it nonetheless manages to be more captivating, suspenseful, and rewarding by far than most movies that would gladly rely on them. That, my friends, is significant.
The Lodger (Alfred Hitchcock, 1926) 63
Atmospheric, well orchestrated silent Hitchcock. It's very much a product of its time and can really only be watched for what it is (both a good thing and a bad thing), but it's easy to see based on its merits alone why Hitchcock found a name for himself really quickly.
Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003) 92
Truly beautiful. I've never seen it so much as a relationship drama as I have a film about the life-affirming power of friendship in the face of loneliness and alienation. Because seriously, who cares if they slept with each other? Maybe they did, maybe they didn't; to dwell on the idea is to miss the true beauty of their relationship. Here are two people who manage against all odds to form a bond more powerful than most people will ever know. The ephemeral nature of their encounter is what makes the film so delightful and, at the same time, so sad: we know as well as they do that their friendship is confined to that hotel. They'll never see each other again. But the time they spend together is so genuine, so real, that it puts the vast majority of bored human interaction to shame. By all accounts, Bill Murray should've won an Oscar for this (damn you, Sean Penn -- Mystic River wasn't very good anyway). It's both his finest work ever and the best film he's ever been associated with. So few movies manage to be as mature, thoughtful, and full of insight as this one. While it does seem to become more wistful with each passing year, it also gets better every time I watch it.
The Loved One (Tony Richardson, 1965) 70
In many ways, The Loved One unfolds like a 60s prototype of the kind of film Sacha Baron Cohen or Parker and Stone would make today. There's a good deal of gleefully wicked, razor-sharp satire here, but it's punctuated with an uncomfortable propensity to underpin everything with unnecessary gross-out gags. And no matter how funny the filmmakers might think these are, they can't help but undermine the sharper and more pointed material. For every pitch-perfect, spot-on scene like the one where the pet undertakers shoot the dead bird off in a rocket, there's an off-putting one like the disgusting and not even slightly amusing montage of the morbidly obese Mrs. Joyboy stuffing her face with food. Even so, I'd say the good handily outweighs the bad. It takes balls to even make a movie this irreverent, and even more balls to market it as "the film with something to offend everyone" (which ... yeah, it probably is). I'm sure as time goes by I'll come to forget the icky stuff and remember it fondly for what it, for the most part, is: a fearless, jet-black comedy about the funeral industry that is still more or less unique in its approach and, indeed, has more than its fair share of thrills to balance out the filmmakers' somewhat indulgent tendency to just go off the rails completely.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
M/N/O
Made in U.S.A. (Jean-Luc Godard, 1966) 34
Again, I want to say I didn't "get it." That I'm just not smart enough to fully understand Godard's self-consciously quirky "artsiness." But you know what? Even if I did, I can't help but feel that Made in U.S.A. would still come across as a giant piece of crap. Sure, Godard can -- and, for the most part, does -- do anything he wants: whether it be giving his characters absurd names like Robert McNamara and Richard Nixon, setting his action in Atlantic City despite everything being in French, or just plain miring his audience down a self-described "murky case" that makes no sense whatsoever. What he forgets is that none of these necessarily make for interesting cinema. Despite some amusing moments here and there, I mostly found Made in U.S.A. tedious. Its mercifully short 85 minute runtime at points seemed torturously long (especially during the extended stretches where the film consisted of nothing but an abrasive tape recording of a political manifesto). But whatever. Maybe the film will find a loyal fanbase. For the first time in 43 years, this is finally getting a U.S. distribution. Normally I would be incensed at the injustice of this, but this is an exception. I can give you one solid reason why Made in U.S.A. should have stayed in France: it sucks.
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) 63
Way back in the day (this must've been 2002 or early 2003, because I don't think I was even in high school yet), before I had seen many movies and was still young and impressionable, I saw Magnolia and pretty much thought it was the best thing ever. Oooohwow a super long movie with a crazy amount of characters and like seventeen intersecting storylines? The thing's gotta be a masterpiece. So it went. And now, older and more jaded, I sat down to watch it for a second time to see if it still holds up. Does it? Well, kinda. While by no means a bad film, it's definitely not the end-all cinematic miracle I seemed to think it was. For one thing, the length and scope of the deal masks the fact that each individual story is utterly flat. By putting them together, there is a sort of sweeping catharsis; separately, none of the stupid things really go anywhere. Also, paradoxically, the thing's too long. 188 minutes is a crazy epic length for any film, and unless you're Kurosawa or Coppola or something, that's just too long. By the end, the thing really starts to feel drawn-out. Still, it's one hell of an ambitious movie and it's hard not to give it credit for that. Anderson was only in his late 20s when he made the thing, and I'll be damned if I'm responsible for anything so impressive by the time I turn 30. Especially something with such a ballsy final act. Seriously, it rains frogs.
Man Bites Dog (Remy Belvaux/Andre Bonzel/Benoit Poelvoorde, 1992) 60
Here is a perfect example of why a film should not feel it is necessary to conform to a certain length: at around 60 minutes, Man Bites Dog would have been a brilliant achievement; at around 90, it loses its film grip and begins to grow tiresome. The central idea is an ingenious one: filmed in black and white on handheld cameras, it's a mockumentary of a film crew following the perfect subject: a serial killer. He is charming, charismatic, funny, and also extremely dangerous. The film strikes a brilliant chord in its first act by juxtaposing calm, collected scenes of pitch-black gallows humor with acts of shocking violence. As the crew continues to follow him around, they find themselves becoming more and more involved in his ghastly crimes until they ultimately become his effective henchmen. Like I said, this works amazingly for about an hour: there's one tremendous scene after another (the suburban house sequence is particularly potent), and it feels like the film is winding up for a knockout punch. Unfortunately, the filmmakers don't have an especially strong sense of how to end this, and the film's last third becomes a series of dead-ends that almost threaten to undo the whole affair (are the hospital or jail scenes necessary at all?). Still, shooting yourself in the foot doesn't mean the bullet was always there, and one still walks away from Man Bites Dog with a handful of compelling material. While I do feel that Michael Haneke does the whole media/audience-desensitized-to-violence thing much more effectively with Funny Games, these guys have still come up with a compelling prototype. With a few kinks ironed out, I know I'd be in love with it; as it is, it gets some strong admiration without fully getting a vote of confidence. That's just the way of these things sometimes.
The Man Who Wasn't There (The Coen Brothers, 2001) 66
In which the Coen Brothers, whom I am convinced could successfully write and direct any genre of film, make the closest thing to straight-up 40s film noir that modern cinema has ever seen. Seriously, they've got this down to a science: the black-and-white cinematography, the atmosphere, the shadows, the dialogue; it's really something. In fact, it'd be just about perfect if the story didn't completely self-destruct by the end. For the first hour, the film feels like it's going to be incredible; Billy Bob Thornton is creepy, and the tension keeps getting built up quite skillfully. And then something happens. I don't know what. But the train derails, and it threatens to take the entire film with it. Luckily, a fair portion manages to stay on track and the film emerges overall as a strange but enjoyable anomaly. Few filmmakers would take it upon themselves to even make an homage to classic noir, much less construct a life-size replica of it. It just goes to show what the Coens are both capable of and willing to do. Predictably, it tanked at the box office. Oh well.
Moon (Duncan Jones, 2009) 70
Moon is not great science fiction, but it is a solid and entertaining piece of cinema. I think the reason why many have been led to call it great sci-fi is just the simple fact that films like this are very hard to come by these days. This isn't your standard-issue kinetic, things-blow-up-in-space action thriller. It's a character piece through and through, sometimes slow moving, but never dull for an instant. Comparisons to a certain Stanley Kubrick film are inevitable, but the similarities are only surface-level. As a film, this can proudly stand on its own, and that alone should be reason enough to see it. To discuss plot points would be to divulge spoilers, which of course it would be criminal for me to do, but suffice it to say that while Moon does not break any new ground conceptually, it deftly handles what it brings to the table. The clean, simple, well thought-out execution is refreshing. Also impressive, and indeed what likely makes the movie more than anything else, is Sam Rockwell's bravura performance. The man is dynamite here. It's a role that could easily lead to scenery chewing, but he handles his one-man show with a great deal of skill. His acting never calls attention to itself, and the overall effect of his work is extremely impressive. Still, I felt that something fundamental was missing; something that kept it from becoming the sci-fi classic that by all means it deserves to be. But that's nitpicking, really. It's a very good film, admirably ambitious, and I'm just glad it found its way to us.
Mysterious Skin (Gregg Araki, 2004) 91
In a market saturated with formula vehicles and cookie-cutter retreads, I appreciate a film that is willing to take risks. Mysterious Skin is a film that takes a handful of really big ones and, for the most part, succeeds with every last one of them. It is an unflinching look at an extremely difficult subject; it does not candy-coat anything and it refuses to shy away from even the most troubling details (neither of which it should do; subtlety is not the way to handle this sort of material). And while unbelievably devastating, one cannot accuse it of being emotionally manipulative. It delivers its soul-shattering gut-punch not because the director has stacked the cards in favor of its incredibly powerful final scene, but because the story is so naturally trenchant and yet so honestly handled that it just ends up there. It earns that final scene. And if that isn't reason enough why this is a tremendous piece of work, here's another: Joseph Gordon-Levitt (still best known for "Third Rock from the Sun," despite having been in some really great films since then) gives a beyond-excellent performance as Neil, the film's protagonist. On the surface he comes across as nothing less than a heartless asshole, but Gordon-Levitt nails the nuances of the character so well that it's impossible to miss the deep-rooted suffering behind his hardened facade. It's wonderful work. But really, I want to shake hands with everyone involved in this. It's by no means an easy film, but it's a necessary and important one. It explores areas of the human condition that few would ever dare to touch. That it does so with such honesty and such overwhelming force makes it one of the finer cinematic achievements of recent years. (I suppose I do see the unfairness of simply describing it as "a film about child abuse," as I did with the movie night crowd, as it does go a hell of a lot deeper -- and darker -- than that. But my question to those folks would be, now that you've seen it, wouldn't you be disappointed if it hadn't? I know I would.)
No Country for Old Men (The Coen Brothers, 2007) 90
I think I exhausted pretty much everything I have to say about this back when it came out a couple years ago (god, has it already been that long?), but it's still an exceptional film that holds up very, very well. It's unconventional as hell, too: how many movies can you think of that basically feature no soundtrack whatsoever and have three main characters that never meet any of the others face-to-face? I'd be hard-pressed to name even one more, for both. Anyway, this sucker cleaned up at the Oscars, and deservedly so. Bardem's chilling performance is on its way to becoming iconic, and the film as a whole can proudly stand as far and away the best western of the 2000s.
O (Tim Blake Nelson, 2001) 63
A competent, if not particularly outstanding, contemporary adaptation of Othello (which, to be honest, was never my favorite Shakespeare anyway). For all its flashy modern embellishments, it's actually pretty faithful to its source material. As with all Shakespeare adaptations, this is both a strong point and an undoing. On the one hand, you know you're going to get a solid story; on the other, especially if you're familiar with the play, there are no surprises. Aside from the high school basketball conceit, O doesn't go out of its way to do anything new or different with the Bard's plotline. As a result, as soon as the setting is established, the film feels like it goes on autopilot. Still, the performances are good (the core three especially; even the normally wooden Josh Hartnett stands out here) and one has to give Tim Blake Nelson kudos for trying. It's just that, especially with the potential inherent in each and every one of Shakespeare's "major" plays for a brilliant adaptation, it's hard to not want a little bit more out of it.
Oldboy (Chan-Wook Park, 2005) 87
The first time I watched Oldboy was in context with the rest of Chan-Wook Park's "vengeance trilogy" (of which this is the finest entry by a long shot), which necessarily means that a lot of thematic and tonal similarities between the films were going to be taken for granted. A few weeks ago, upon rewatching this in isolation from its counterparts, it finally dawned on me just how grim this film truly is. In a viewing marathon filled to the brim with blood and revenge and mean-spirited violence, the impact of these sorts of things -- for better or for worse -- ends up going by the wayside. And while my first viewing of the film at the end of last semester certainly knocked the wind out of me, it was only this time that I was able to fully appreciate the twisted humanity it puts on display. And it's just twisted enough that I could easily imagine lots of people getting seriously turned off. But where the film might lose some people is exactly where I latch on. As with Mysterious Skin, I have a certain natural fondness for films that step outside of a well-defined comfort zone and tap into dark, almost unspeakable recesses of the human mind. The plot developments in Oldboy very quickly drift away from the expected "hard-edged badass" (of which there is plenty, of course, although most of it is in the film's first half) into much more unexpected, disturbing territory. But that's what makes this so special and keeps it from becoming "just another revenge flick" (that and the fact that it's a technical tour de force, but that's a topic for another day). The motivation, no matter how sick and depraved, has an unnerving verisimilitude; sometimes, in the real world, having a villian who's just a crazy, fucked-up son of a bitch is adequate enough for this kind of shit to go down. It's a trying film, to be sure, but never at the expense of entertainment or pathos. It takes you to dark places and shows you unpleasant things, but it's not so unkind as to deny you payback for your emotional investment. Again: this is excellent.
Again, I want to say I didn't "get it." That I'm just not smart enough to fully understand Godard's self-consciously quirky "artsiness." But you know what? Even if I did, I can't help but feel that Made in U.S.A. would still come across as a giant piece of crap. Sure, Godard can -- and, for the most part, does -- do anything he wants: whether it be giving his characters absurd names like Robert McNamara and Richard Nixon, setting his action in Atlantic City despite everything being in French, or just plain miring his audience down a self-described "murky case" that makes no sense whatsoever. What he forgets is that none of these necessarily make for interesting cinema. Despite some amusing moments here and there, I mostly found Made in U.S.A. tedious. Its mercifully short 85 minute runtime at points seemed torturously long (especially during the extended stretches where the film consisted of nothing but an abrasive tape recording of a political manifesto). But whatever. Maybe the film will find a loyal fanbase. For the first time in 43 years, this is finally getting a U.S. distribution. Normally I would be incensed at the injustice of this, but this is an exception. I can give you one solid reason why Made in U.S.A. should have stayed in France: it sucks.
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) 63
Way back in the day (this must've been 2002 or early 2003, because I don't think I was even in high school yet), before I had seen many movies and was still young and impressionable, I saw Magnolia and pretty much thought it was the best thing ever. Oooohwow a super long movie with a crazy amount of characters and like seventeen intersecting storylines? The thing's gotta be a masterpiece. So it went. And now, older and more jaded, I sat down to watch it for a second time to see if it still holds up. Does it? Well, kinda. While by no means a bad film, it's definitely not the end-all cinematic miracle I seemed to think it was. For one thing, the length and scope of the deal masks the fact that each individual story is utterly flat. By putting them together, there is a sort of sweeping catharsis; separately, none of the stupid things really go anywhere. Also, paradoxically, the thing's too long. 188 minutes is a crazy epic length for any film, and unless you're Kurosawa or Coppola or something, that's just too long. By the end, the thing really starts to feel drawn-out. Still, it's one hell of an ambitious movie and it's hard not to give it credit for that. Anderson was only in his late 20s when he made the thing, and I'll be damned if I'm responsible for anything so impressive by the time I turn 30. Especially something with such a ballsy final act. Seriously, it rains frogs.
Man Bites Dog (Remy Belvaux/Andre Bonzel/Benoit Poelvoorde, 1992) 60
Here is a perfect example of why a film should not feel it is necessary to conform to a certain length: at around 60 minutes, Man Bites Dog would have been a brilliant achievement; at around 90, it loses its film grip and begins to grow tiresome. The central idea is an ingenious one: filmed in black and white on handheld cameras, it's a mockumentary of a film crew following the perfect subject: a serial killer. He is charming, charismatic, funny, and also extremely dangerous. The film strikes a brilliant chord in its first act by juxtaposing calm, collected scenes of pitch-black gallows humor with acts of shocking violence. As the crew continues to follow him around, they find themselves becoming more and more involved in his ghastly crimes until they ultimately become his effective henchmen. Like I said, this works amazingly for about an hour: there's one tremendous scene after another (the suburban house sequence is particularly potent), and it feels like the film is winding up for a knockout punch. Unfortunately, the filmmakers don't have an especially strong sense of how to end this, and the film's last third becomes a series of dead-ends that almost threaten to undo the whole affair (are the hospital or jail scenes necessary at all?). Still, shooting yourself in the foot doesn't mean the bullet was always there, and one still walks away from Man Bites Dog with a handful of compelling material. While I do feel that Michael Haneke does the whole media/audience-desensitized-to-violence thing much more effectively with Funny Games, these guys have still come up with a compelling prototype. With a few kinks ironed out, I know I'd be in love with it; as it is, it gets some strong admiration without fully getting a vote of confidence. That's just the way of these things sometimes.
The Man Who Wasn't There (The Coen Brothers, 2001) 66
In which the Coen Brothers, whom I am convinced could successfully write and direct any genre of film, make the closest thing to straight-up 40s film noir that modern cinema has ever seen. Seriously, they've got this down to a science: the black-and-white cinematography, the atmosphere, the shadows, the dialogue; it's really something. In fact, it'd be just about perfect if the story didn't completely self-destruct by the end. For the first hour, the film feels like it's going to be incredible; Billy Bob Thornton is creepy, and the tension keeps getting built up quite skillfully. And then something happens. I don't know what. But the train derails, and it threatens to take the entire film with it. Luckily, a fair portion manages to stay on track and the film emerges overall as a strange but enjoyable anomaly. Few filmmakers would take it upon themselves to even make an homage to classic noir, much less construct a life-size replica of it. It just goes to show what the Coens are both capable of and willing to do. Predictably, it tanked at the box office. Oh well.
Moon (Duncan Jones, 2009) 70
Moon is not great science fiction, but it is a solid and entertaining piece of cinema. I think the reason why many have been led to call it great sci-fi is just the simple fact that films like this are very hard to come by these days. This isn't your standard-issue kinetic, things-blow-up-in-space action thriller. It's a character piece through and through, sometimes slow moving, but never dull for an instant. Comparisons to a certain Stanley Kubrick film are inevitable, but the similarities are only surface-level. As a film, this can proudly stand on its own, and that alone should be reason enough to see it. To discuss plot points would be to divulge spoilers, which of course it would be criminal for me to do, but suffice it to say that while Moon does not break any new ground conceptually, it deftly handles what it brings to the table. The clean, simple, well thought-out execution is refreshing. Also impressive, and indeed what likely makes the movie more than anything else, is Sam Rockwell's bravura performance. The man is dynamite here. It's a role that could easily lead to scenery chewing, but he handles his one-man show with a great deal of skill. His acting never calls attention to itself, and the overall effect of his work is extremely impressive. Still, I felt that something fundamental was missing; something that kept it from becoming the sci-fi classic that by all means it deserves to be. But that's nitpicking, really. It's a very good film, admirably ambitious, and I'm just glad it found its way to us.
Mysterious Skin (Gregg Araki, 2004) 91
In a market saturated with formula vehicles and cookie-cutter retreads, I appreciate a film that is willing to take risks. Mysterious Skin is a film that takes a handful of really big ones and, for the most part, succeeds with every last one of them. It is an unflinching look at an extremely difficult subject; it does not candy-coat anything and it refuses to shy away from even the most troubling details (neither of which it should do; subtlety is not the way to handle this sort of material). And while unbelievably devastating, one cannot accuse it of being emotionally manipulative. It delivers its soul-shattering gut-punch not because the director has stacked the cards in favor of its incredibly powerful final scene, but because the story is so naturally trenchant and yet so honestly handled that it just ends up there. It earns that final scene. And if that isn't reason enough why this is a tremendous piece of work, here's another: Joseph Gordon-Levitt (still best known for "Third Rock from the Sun," despite having been in some really great films since then) gives a beyond-excellent performance as Neil, the film's protagonist. On the surface he comes across as nothing less than a heartless asshole, but Gordon-Levitt nails the nuances of the character so well that it's impossible to miss the deep-rooted suffering behind his hardened facade. It's wonderful work. But really, I want to shake hands with everyone involved in this. It's by no means an easy film, but it's a necessary and important one. It explores areas of the human condition that few would ever dare to touch. That it does so with such honesty and such overwhelming force makes it one of the finer cinematic achievements of recent years. (I suppose I do see the unfairness of simply describing it as "a film about child abuse," as I did with the movie night crowd, as it does go a hell of a lot deeper -- and darker -- than that. But my question to those folks would be, now that you've seen it, wouldn't you be disappointed if it hadn't? I know I would.)
No Country for Old Men (The Coen Brothers, 2007) 90
I think I exhausted pretty much everything I have to say about this back when it came out a couple years ago (god, has it already been that long?), but it's still an exceptional film that holds up very, very well. It's unconventional as hell, too: how many movies can you think of that basically feature no soundtrack whatsoever and have three main characters that never meet any of the others face-to-face? I'd be hard-pressed to name even one more, for both. Anyway, this sucker cleaned up at the Oscars, and deservedly so. Bardem's chilling performance is on its way to becoming iconic, and the film as a whole can proudly stand as far and away the best western of the 2000s.
O (Tim Blake Nelson, 2001) 63
A competent, if not particularly outstanding, contemporary adaptation of Othello (which, to be honest, was never my favorite Shakespeare anyway). For all its flashy modern embellishments, it's actually pretty faithful to its source material. As with all Shakespeare adaptations, this is both a strong point and an undoing. On the one hand, you know you're going to get a solid story; on the other, especially if you're familiar with the play, there are no surprises. Aside from the high school basketball conceit, O doesn't go out of its way to do anything new or different with the Bard's plotline. As a result, as soon as the setting is established, the film feels like it goes on autopilot. Still, the performances are good (the core three especially; even the normally wooden Josh Hartnett stands out here) and one has to give Tim Blake Nelson kudos for trying. It's just that, especially with the potential inherent in each and every one of Shakespeare's "major" plays for a brilliant adaptation, it's hard to not want a little bit more out of it.
Oldboy (Chan-Wook Park, 2005) 87
The first time I watched Oldboy was in context with the rest of Chan-Wook Park's "vengeance trilogy" (of which this is the finest entry by a long shot), which necessarily means that a lot of thematic and tonal similarities between the films were going to be taken for granted. A few weeks ago, upon rewatching this in isolation from its counterparts, it finally dawned on me just how grim this film truly is. In a viewing marathon filled to the brim with blood and revenge and mean-spirited violence, the impact of these sorts of things -- for better or for worse -- ends up going by the wayside. And while my first viewing of the film at the end of last semester certainly knocked the wind out of me, it was only this time that I was able to fully appreciate the twisted humanity it puts on display. And it's just twisted enough that I could easily imagine lots of people getting seriously turned off. But where the film might lose some people is exactly where I latch on. As with Mysterious Skin, I have a certain natural fondness for films that step outside of a well-defined comfort zone and tap into dark, almost unspeakable recesses of the human mind. The plot developments in Oldboy very quickly drift away from the expected "hard-edged badass" (of which there is plenty, of course, although most of it is in the film's first half) into much more unexpected, disturbing territory. But that's what makes this so special and keeps it from becoming "just another revenge flick" (that and the fact that it's a technical tour de force, but that's a topic for another day). The motivation, no matter how sick and depraved, has an unnerving verisimilitude; sometimes, in the real world, having a villian who's just a crazy, fucked-up son of a bitch is adequate enough for this kind of shit to go down. It's a trying film, to be sure, but never at the expense of entertainment or pathos. It takes you to dark places and shows you unpleasant things, but it's not so unkind as to deny you payback for your emotional investment. Again: this is excellent.
P/Q
Pan's Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) 97
If "masterpiece" is a word I throw around too much, Pan's Labyrinth is the sort of film that makes me wish I didn't, because that's exactly what it is. Guillermo del Toro's estimably mature adult fantasy is among the extremely few near-flawless cinematic achievements of the decade (or ever, for that matter); I have now seen it a good five or six times and still cannot shake the effect it has on me. It gives me everything I could want from it: it's brutal, it's creepy, but more than anything it's profoundly sad. The scene where Ofelia imagines herself standing in her father's lavish court is one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen, especially given the context in which it happens. Not to mention the spine-chilling Pale Man scene, which must be the single most recognizable sequence from any film in a rrrrreally long time. But seriously, neither words nor a near-perfect score can do justice to how phenomenal this is. If you haven't seen it, go watch it this instant. If you have seen it, go watch it again. You'll be glad, I promise.
Party 7 (Katsuhito Ishii, 2000) 21
More fool me for thinking Casshern was going to be the worst film in this entry. Somehow, against all laws of nature and dictates of good taste, Party 7 manages the trick of not only being worse, but being significantly so. Things like this are to blame for Japanese culture unfairly getting stereotyped as a cracked-out hodgepodge of absurdist nonsense. Party 7 tries so hard to be quirky and unusual and goofy and funny and unique that it just ends up downright painful. I honestly can't think of another word for it. Usually I can adjust my inner tempo to self-conscious weirdness, no matter how forced, but this just gives me nothing whatsoever to grab onto. It's really more like two entirely separate films haphazardly glued together: the first is a dull "I stole money and I'm running away from gangsters" story with lifeless characters and no development; the second is one of the most appallingly weird things I have ever seen onscreen, and no, I do not mean that as a compliment (an aging peeping tom named Captain Banana, whose attire is a spacesuit and frog helmet, tries to get a twentysomething boy to put on a yellow jumpsuit in order to embrace his "inner peep" or some shit). These two continue alongside each other with no particular rhyme, reason, or sense of pacing, until the pointlessly over-the-top denouement inevitably brings them together and accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Surprised? Yeah, I wasn't either. Really, if I hadn't rented the damn thing, I probably would've burned it or something. But they'd fine me for that, and it wouldn't be worth it. I just want this movie out of my life forever. I'll start by finishing this review.
Peeping Tom (Michael Powell, 1960) 87
Oh man, this was exceptional. It's sort of my dream to stumble upon a lesser-known older film that is just as great as all of the world-famous classics of its era. Peeping Tom is such a film. It's not too much of a stretch to say that the reason why it's been shuffled under the rug all these years is because it was so ahead of its time. Released twenty, even ten, years later, this might've been seen as a masterpiece. Released in 1960, it was so reviled that it destroyed the career of its director. Why? Because it takes a troubling subject and fleshes it out so skillfully that it essentially removes the audience from its comfort zone whether they like it or not. It's hard to watch this and not get creeped out (the soft-spoken, understated, but chilling lead performance works wonders on this front). But at the same time, it's even harder to watch this and not get completely involved, which is of course the ironic point Powell is trying to make. Just as Mark enjoys watching what he has done, we're gripped with a similar fascination. Peeping Tom implicates its viewers. It makes them accomplices in what is happening onscreen. People back in 1960 did not like this at all, and there's a chance that it still might be seen as distasteful and ugly today. Me? I think it's absolutely brilliant, and likely one of the finest examples of psychological horror I have ever seen.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer, 2006) 46
Tom Tykwer directed this. The man who made a name for himself with the kinetic, uber-hip, stylish Run Lola Run made this. Two more dissimilar films you will never see, to say the least. This is a movie that handles its weirdness much like many women handle their perfume: everyone knows a little dab will do ya, but in the end some erroneous idea about excess seems to take over in spite of it all. Some women, I swear to god, use half the bottle because they think each additional squirt will somehow make them that much more aromatic. Instead, it's just nauseating. Perfume, likewise, can't stop at being a dark, quirky serial killer yarn; it's so desperate to assert itself as "something different" that it feels compelled to keep piling the weirdness on until the whole thing just becomes ridiculous. By the time it got to its mass orgy/Christ figure/zombie flesh-eating payoff (oh, if I were only joking), I knew there was no way it was ever going to be able to recover itself. And that's a shame, because it starts off intriguingly, only to have its interest shift away from what happens in the plot in order to focus on the "what next?" element of its rather depraved downward spiral (and may I just say this spiral goes on and on and on -- at 147 minutes, I shit you not, the film's way too long). I'd be lying if I said it's not entertaining; it certainly is. It's ... captivating, to be sure. But it doesn't add up to much. It's just weird for weirdness' sake, and -- aside from Lynch and very few other exceptions -- I'm not really cool with that. Bonus points for casting Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, though. Always good to see those guys.
Pig Hunt (James Isaac, 2008) 63
The best thing that can be said about Pig Hunt is that it's a movie that understands itself. One does not go into a movie about a group of moronic city kids who go into the woods to hunt a two-ton pig expecting a profound story, or some life-altering revelation, or some shattering new take on modern cinema. No. One goes in expecting a big ol' dumbass horror flick with zero logic, campy dialogue, and tons of cheap humor. And the filmmakers get this. They have no pretensions. "Dumbass horror flick" is all Pig Hunt ever tries to be, and that's all Pig Hunt ever needs to be. And you know what? It's kind of awesome. Somehow the complete and utter absurdity of literally every damn thing in this movie does not bother me at all. It just works. It's incredibly entertaining, highly enjoyable, and actually very funny (sometimes even when it tries to be). Honestly, I could not have asked for more.
Primer (Shane Carruth, 2004) TBD
We tried to watch this, but the rental copy was all scratched up, so it skipped like ten minutes of the movie. This is not the kind of movie where you want to miss anything, much less ten minutes. I liked what I saw, but I'm definitely going to have to see the whole thing in order to pass judgment. Stay tuned! (Author's Note, two and a half years later: Never even tried watching it again. Apparently the film doesn't make sense anyway, so I'm all right with my negligence.)
The Princess and the Warrior (Tom Tykwer, 2000) 45
Okay. I get it now. Tom Tykwer is all about flash and pizazz. This is why Run Lola Run worked so well: it was 100% style. It didn't even try for that whole "substance" thing. On the flipside, this is why Perfume didn't work: it actually tried to tell a story -- a fucking weird one -- and it fell on its face, fucking weirdly. The Princess and the Warrior, despite being Tykwer's immediate follow-up to Lola, unfortunately bears more similarity to the latter film. It ain't just dumb, it's flat-out silly. The story it tries to tell is so contrived and so ham-fisted and so poorly handled that I'm led to wonder what exactly appealed to Tykwer about it in the first place. Scarcely anything clicks here: the movie's way too long, it's frustratingly slow paced, and there's something about it that's just off-putting on a visceral level (not to mention having one of the stupidest endings I've seen in a long while; without giving anything away, it's like Tykwer felt the need to grab his audience by the throat and scream, "D'YA GET IT?! THE SYMBOLISM?! HUH? WELL, DO YA? IT'S A METAPHOR! GET IT?! D'YA SEE THE METAPHOR?!" Yes, Tom. We get it). Not unpredictably, the successful things are the stylistic touches. The film's really well shot. Like, really. It just forgets that these things cease to matter if the story sucks.
Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) 100
Still just about the closest to perfection that any film has ever come.
The five minutes of Gus Van Sant's Psycho I saw on TV a few weeks ago: -3
VINCE FUCKING VAUGHN?!
Public Enemies (Michael Mann, 2009) 41
You just can't predict some things. Of all the boring-as-shit movies out there, I never would've expected a Johnny Depp movie about John Dillinger to be one of them. Simply put: Public Enemies takes a loooong time to go absolutely nowhere. It's unbelievably dull. Mann's technical prowess is impressive enough and Depp's acting is good enough that together they make this a difficult film to hate outright, but damned if I'm not very unimpressed and disappointed. The sad thing is, the film's got a lot going for it. It really does. They just forgot one key element: a script; something that dictates that things happen, and interestingly. Because all of the gripping parts are in the trailer. That's two minutes long. Public Enemies is 140 minutes long. What fills (or doesn't fill, depending) the remaining 138 ain't really worth the $10 you'd have to pay for it.
If "masterpiece" is a word I throw around too much, Pan's Labyrinth is the sort of film that makes me wish I didn't, because that's exactly what it is. Guillermo del Toro's estimably mature adult fantasy is among the extremely few near-flawless cinematic achievements of the decade (or ever, for that matter); I have now seen it a good five or six times and still cannot shake the effect it has on me. It gives me everything I could want from it: it's brutal, it's creepy, but more than anything it's profoundly sad. The scene where Ofelia imagines herself standing in her father's lavish court is one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen, especially given the context in which it happens. Not to mention the spine-chilling Pale Man scene, which must be the single most recognizable sequence from any film in a rrrrreally long time. But seriously, neither words nor a near-perfect score can do justice to how phenomenal this is. If you haven't seen it, go watch it this instant. If you have seen it, go watch it again. You'll be glad, I promise.
Party 7 (Katsuhito Ishii, 2000) 21
More fool me for thinking Casshern was going to be the worst film in this entry. Somehow, against all laws of nature and dictates of good taste, Party 7 manages the trick of not only being worse, but being significantly so. Things like this are to blame for Japanese culture unfairly getting stereotyped as a cracked-out hodgepodge of absurdist nonsense. Party 7 tries so hard to be quirky and unusual and goofy and funny and unique that it just ends up downright painful. I honestly can't think of another word for it. Usually I can adjust my inner tempo to self-conscious weirdness, no matter how forced, but this just gives me nothing whatsoever to grab onto. It's really more like two entirely separate films haphazardly glued together: the first is a dull "I stole money and I'm running away from gangsters" story with lifeless characters and no development; the second is one of the most appallingly weird things I have ever seen onscreen, and no, I do not mean that as a compliment (an aging peeping tom named Captain Banana, whose attire is a spacesuit and frog helmet, tries to get a twentysomething boy to put on a yellow jumpsuit in order to embrace his "inner peep" or some shit). These two continue alongside each other with no particular rhyme, reason, or sense of pacing, until the pointlessly over-the-top denouement inevitably brings them together and accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Surprised? Yeah, I wasn't either. Really, if I hadn't rented the damn thing, I probably would've burned it or something. But they'd fine me for that, and it wouldn't be worth it. I just want this movie out of my life forever. I'll start by finishing this review.
Peeping Tom (Michael Powell, 1960) 87
Oh man, this was exceptional. It's sort of my dream to stumble upon a lesser-known older film that is just as great as all of the world-famous classics of its era. Peeping Tom is such a film. It's not too much of a stretch to say that the reason why it's been shuffled under the rug all these years is because it was so ahead of its time. Released twenty, even ten, years later, this might've been seen as a masterpiece. Released in 1960, it was so reviled that it destroyed the career of its director. Why? Because it takes a troubling subject and fleshes it out so skillfully that it essentially removes the audience from its comfort zone whether they like it or not. It's hard to watch this and not get creeped out (the soft-spoken, understated, but chilling lead performance works wonders on this front). But at the same time, it's even harder to watch this and not get completely involved, which is of course the ironic point Powell is trying to make. Just as Mark enjoys watching what he has done, we're gripped with a similar fascination. Peeping Tom implicates its viewers. It makes them accomplices in what is happening onscreen. People back in 1960 did not like this at all, and there's a chance that it still might be seen as distasteful and ugly today. Me? I think it's absolutely brilliant, and likely one of the finest examples of psychological horror I have ever seen.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer, 2006) 46
Tom Tykwer directed this. The man who made a name for himself with the kinetic, uber-hip, stylish Run Lola Run made this. Two more dissimilar films you will never see, to say the least. This is a movie that handles its weirdness much like many women handle their perfume: everyone knows a little dab will do ya, but in the end some erroneous idea about excess seems to take over in spite of it all. Some women, I swear to god, use half the bottle because they think each additional squirt will somehow make them that much more aromatic. Instead, it's just nauseating. Perfume, likewise, can't stop at being a dark, quirky serial killer yarn; it's so desperate to assert itself as "something different" that it feels compelled to keep piling the weirdness on until the whole thing just becomes ridiculous. By the time it got to its mass orgy/Christ figure/zombie flesh-eating payoff (oh, if I were only joking), I knew there was no way it was ever going to be able to recover itself. And that's a shame, because it starts off intriguingly, only to have its interest shift away from what happens in the plot in order to focus on the "what next?" element of its rather depraved downward spiral (and may I just say this spiral goes on and on and on -- at 147 minutes, I shit you not, the film's way too long). I'd be lying if I said it's not entertaining; it certainly is. It's ... captivating, to be sure. But it doesn't add up to much. It's just weird for weirdness' sake, and -- aside from Lynch and very few other exceptions -- I'm not really cool with that. Bonus points for casting Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, though. Always good to see those guys.
Pig Hunt (James Isaac, 2008) 63
The best thing that can be said about Pig Hunt is that it's a movie that understands itself. One does not go into a movie about a group of moronic city kids who go into the woods to hunt a two-ton pig expecting a profound story, or some life-altering revelation, or some shattering new take on modern cinema. No. One goes in expecting a big ol' dumbass horror flick with zero logic, campy dialogue, and tons of cheap humor. And the filmmakers get this. They have no pretensions. "Dumbass horror flick" is all Pig Hunt ever tries to be, and that's all Pig Hunt ever needs to be. And you know what? It's kind of awesome. Somehow the complete and utter absurdity of literally every damn thing in this movie does not bother me at all. It just works. It's incredibly entertaining, highly enjoyable, and actually very funny (sometimes even when it tries to be). Honestly, I could not have asked for more.
Primer (Shane Carruth, 2004) TBD
We tried to watch this, but the rental copy was all scratched up, so it skipped like ten minutes of the movie. This is not the kind of movie where you want to miss anything, much less ten minutes. I liked what I saw, but I'm definitely going to have to see the whole thing in order to pass judgment. Stay tuned! (Author's Note, two and a half years later: Never even tried watching it again. Apparently the film doesn't make sense anyway, so I'm all right with my negligence.)
The Princess and the Warrior (Tom Tykwer, 2000) 45
Okay. I get it now. Tom Tykwer is all about flash and pizazz. This is why Run Lola Run worked so well: it was 100% style. It didn't even try for that whole "substance" thing. On the flipside, this is why Perfume didn't work: it actually tried to tell a story -- a fucking weird one -- and it fell on its face, fucking weirdly. The Princess and the Warrior, despite being Tykwer's immediate follow-up to Lola, unfortunately bears more similarity to the latter film. It ain't just dumb, it's flat-out silly. The story it tries to tell is so contrived and so ham-fisted and so poorly handled that I'm led to wonder what exactly appealed to Tykwer about it in the first place. Scarcely anything clicks here: the movie's way too long, it's frustratingly slow paced, and there's something about it that's just off-putting on a visceral level (not to mention having one of the stupidest endings I've seen in a long while; without giving anything away, it's like Tykwer felt the need to grab his audience by the throat and scream, "D'YA GET IT?! THE SYMBOLISM?! HUH? WELL, DO YA? IT'S A METAPHOR! GET IT?! D'YA SEE THE METAPHOR?!" Yes, Tom. We get it). Not unpredictably, the successful things are the stylistic touches. The film's really well shot. Like, really. It just forgets that these things cease to matter if the story sucks.
Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) 100
Still just about the closest to perfection that any film has ever come.
The five minutes of Gus Van Sant's Psycho I saw on TV a few weeks ago: -3
VINCE FUCKING VAUGHN?!
Public Enemies (Michael Mann, 2009) 41
You just can't predict some things. Of all the boring-as-shit movies out there, I never would've expected a Johnny Depp movie about John Dillinger to be one of them. Simply put: Public Enemies takes a loooong time to go absolutely nowhere. It's unbelievably dull. Mann's technical prowess is impressive enough and Depp's acting is good enough that together they make this a difficult film to hate outright, but damned if I'm not very unimpressed and disappointed. The sad thing is, the film's got a lot going for it. It really does. They just forgot one key element: a script; something that dictates that things happen, and interestingly. Because all of the gripping parts are in the trailer. That's two minutes long. Public Enemies is 140 minutes long. What fills (or doesn't fill, depending) the remaining 138 ain't really worth the $10 you'd have to pay for it.
R
Rebecca (Alfred Hitchcock, 1940) 98
A lush, gorgeous, and utterly haunting experience that by all means deserves to be called one of the finest films ever made. It's definitely in my top ten, anyway.
[REC] (Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, 2007) 83
Almost certainly one of the finest horror films I have ever seen. At times almost unbearably tense and frequently genuinely frightening.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) 55
I see lots of movies. Quite a few. Enough to make me think I'm past the point of ever seeing another movie that'll have me gaping at the screen, thinking "WTF" for its entire duration. Repo! The Genetic Opera almost effortlessly convinces me I'm so fucking wrong about this. I have to qualify that 55: this is not a movie I could ever give a straight-up score to. It's not. It wouldn't work. I'm only taking a guess at this, but that final score appears to be an average: if I gave this an 85 for sheer entertainment value and a 25 for how good it really is, that'd just about even it out. This movie is terrible. It's so goddamn bad. But it's entertaining as shit. Go watch it, and I defy you to take your eyes off the screen for even a moment. You won't be able to. So, er, I really don't know what to say about this. It's an instant cult film, for sure (like many have said, it's like the lovechild of Rocky Horror and Sweeney Todd by way of Blade Runner ... and it's got Paris Hilton in it). Am I glad I saw it? Er, well, yeah. Would I watch it again? Er, well, yeah. So I guess, technically, that makes me part of its cult. But I really, really, really don't want to think that way. If you've seen this, you know what I mean.
Repulsion (Roman Polanski, 1965) 59
This is sort of a hallmark of 1960s horror, and while it doesn't quite work for me, I must concede that it's an intriguing and cleverly conceived mood piece. I think my biggest problem is that, dammit, it just doesn't scare me. At all. In fact, if we're going on thrills alone, the movie is almost completely ineffectual. This wouldn't be as big of a deal for me if the film hadn't been built up as omg one of the scariest things ever (thanks, dad), but it was. I mean, sure, there are some eerie elements (the hands in the hallway, the highly symbolic cracks in the walls), but they're not frightening. They're just sort of evocative. So I'm left to admire the film based on technique alone. Luckily, Polanski knows exactly what he's doing. He creates an atmosphere nicely and knows how to skillfully build on it until the action reaches its logical breaking point. I just wish that breaking point were a bit more visceral. At least for me, anyway. God knows the film's plenty scary enough for some. I just wish I could be included, because it is a good film. It just happens to be one that also feels strangely incomplete.
Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes, 2008) 68
About ten years ago, Sam Mendes directed a little suburban relationship drama called American Beauty. Remember that one? Wasn't the happiest film ever, was it? Well, now he's gone and directed Revolutionary Road, another suburban relationship drama that successfully makes his prior Oscar-winner feel like a rollicking good time by comparison. Man, this is a harsh, harsh movie. I'm not going to deny it's very well done (the performances in particular are stellar, and I'm banking on Kate Winslet finally winning an Oscar for her work here), but it's nothing I would want to subject myself to ever again. You see it once, you get the point; you've seen what there is to see. You see it twice, you're really just engaging in masochistic behavior. By this token, Revolutionary Road falls into a curious class of film: one that if done well will be depressing, but one that if not done well will still be depressing. Thank god it's done well.
Rocket Science (Jeffrey Blitz, 2007) 30
Rocket Science is a remarkably miserable movie. It is dreary to the fullest extent of its abilities, which are considerable. It also thinks it's funny, though by whose judgment I have no idea. This, a film ostensibly about high school debating, was recommended to me by a friend who knew that I spent many a weekend in high school competing at speech tournaments. In hindsight, I hope to God the recommendation didn't come because the main character reminded him of me. The so-called "hero" of this vapid ordeal has exactly zero likable qualities. He stutters, he's antisocial, he obviously has some pretty serious emotional problems (unless you count getting drunk and throwing a cello through someone's window as typical teenage behavior), and he's suitably lacking in any sort of personality. In other words, I couldn't have given a damn about him. He's not exactly the sort of guy who puts you on the edge of your seat rooting for him. The even worse news is, the film doesn't like him either. So for 100 minutes the kid gets pushed around, wrestles unsuccessfully with his personal demons, and ultimately ends up in a place arguably less desirable than he was when the film started. This is an underdog story; one might reasonably expect an arc with an ultimate triumph. Here, not so much. And when a comedy about a troubled teenager attempting to overcome his obstacles and emerge victorious accomplishes neither being amusing nor its story-based goals, I think it's safe to say the film as a whole is a complete failure. That it's also a wholly depressing experience is just an added bonus. At the very least, the film could've used more smartass, banjo-playing dry cleaner guy. He was at least somewhat interesting.
Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (David Mirkin, 1997) 65
Believe it or not, I actually got this for my dad for Christmas, but had never actually watched it myself. Well, the weekend I was sick I figured, "What the hell?" and curled up and gave it a looksie. To my surprise (and perhaps chagrin), I enjoyed it quite a bit. I suppose general classification would call this a "chick flick," but not in the abject, toe-curling way that would apply to a dumb rom-com or some weepy loved-and-lost relationship drama. Instead, Romy and Michele -- unlike its two terminal airhead heroines -- is actually pretty intelligent, and there are plenty of solid laughs to be had along the way. The premise? Romy and Michele, two incurable ditzes, learn that their 10-year high school reunion is in two weeks and decide to "better" themselves in order to look prosperous and successful (including a hilarious, half-baked plan to lie to former classmates about having invented Post-It notes in the intervening years). It's predictable and formulaic, sure, but it's a lot of fun. Although the necessarily-happy conclusion does require you to suspend a somewhat uncomfortable amount of disbelief, the preceding 80 minutes or so are entertaining, well-written, and have some delightfully pointed and accurate things to say both about high school and about the ingenuine, phony nature of these so-called "reunions." And I enjoyed it for that. I know I'm not its target audience, but that just goes to show that some of these for-the-ladies movies really can satisfy just about everyone looking to have a good time, even the male counterparts. I mean, my dad and I both like it. That's gotta say something.
Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, 1999) 75
A flashy, stylish, hyperkinetic action film that exists for the sole purpose of being a flashy, stylish, hyperkinetic action film. There's basically no substance beneath its glimmering, immaculately produced surface, but the movie's just so damn nice to look at that it really doesn't matter. It's a lot of fun: not the sort of thing I'd ever turn to for any sort of "substantial viewing experience," but it's a staggering exercise in technique, and it's highly entertaining. For a movie whose only goal is to entertain, I'd say that's a success.
The Rutles (Eric Idle & Gary Weis, 1978) 70
Not having watched this in years and years, I was concerned that my younger viewing self had played up this film's quality a bit too much and that I'd be slightly disappointed upon revisiting it. I shouldn't have worried. Eric Idle's unfortunately underrated Beatles sendup is still amusing after all these years, though definitely more sly and clever than straight-up hilarious (not that there's anything wrong with this at all; it's just slightly different from what I remembered). One good thing that comes with age: I actually get all the references now (I'm pretty sure the humor inherent in the Brian Epstein-inspired Leggy Mountbatten would have been lost on 12-year-old Chris; just a guess), and I'm able to recognize all of the curious guest cameos (like wtf that really is Mick Jagger/Paul Simon/George Harrison, as well as half the original SNL cast). So yeah. Good stuff. And short! You can watch this twice instead of watching Public Enemies once!
A lush, gorgeous, and utterly haunting experience that by all means deserves to be called one of the finest films ever made. It's definitely in my top ten, anyway.
[REC] (Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, 2007) 83
Almost certainly one of the finest horror films I have ever seen. At times almost unbearably tense and frequently genuinely frightening.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) 55
I see lots of movies. Quite a few. Enough to make me think I'm past the point of ever seeing another movie that'll have me gaping at the screen, thinking "WTF" for its entire duration. Repo! The Genetic Opera almost effortlessly convinces me I'm so fucking wrong about this. I have to qualify that 55: this is not a movie I could ever give a straight-up score to. It's not. It wouldn't work. I'm only taking a guess at this, but that final score appears to be an average: if I gave this an 85 for sheer entertainment value and a 25 for how good it really is, that'd just about even it out. This movie is terrible. It's so goddamn bad. But it's entertaining as shit. Go watch it, and I defy you to take your eyes off the screen for even a moment. You won't be able to. So, er, I really don't know what to say about this. It's an instant cult film, for sure (like many have said, it's like the lovechild of Rocky Horror and Sweeney Todd by way of Blade Runner ... and it's got Paris Hilton in it). Am I glad I saw it? Er, well, yeah. Would I watch it again? Er, well, yeah. So I guess, technically, that makes me part of its cult. But I really, really, really don't want to think that way. If you've seen this, you know what I mean.
Repulsion (Roman Polanski, 1965) 59
This is sort of a hallmark of 1960s horror, and while it doesn't quite work for me, I must concede that it's an intriguing and cleverly conceived mood piece. I think my biggest problem is that, dammit, it just doesn't scare me. At all. In fact, if we're going on thrills alone, the movie is almost completely ineffectual. This wouldn't be as big of a deal for me if the film hadn't been built up as omg one of the scariest things ever (thanks, dad), but it was. I mean, sure, there are some eerie elements (the hands in the hallway, the highly symbolic cracks in the walls), but they're not frightening. They're just sort of evocative. So I'm left to admire the film based on technique alone. Luckily, Polanski knows exactly what he's doing. He creates an atmosphere nicely and knows how to skillfully build on it until the action reaches its logical breaking point. I just wish that breaking point were a bit more visceral. At least for me, anyway. God knows the film's plenty scary enough for some. I just wish I could be included, because it is a good film. It just happens to be one that also feels strangely incomplete.
Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes, 2008) 68
About ten years ago, Sam Mendes directed a little suburban relationship drama called American Beauty. Remember that one? Wasn't the happiest film ever, was it? Well, now he's gone and directed Revolutionary Road, another suburban relationship drama that successfully makes his prior Oscar-winner feel like a rollicking good time by comparison. Man, this is a harsh, harsh movie. I'm not going to deny it's very well done (the performances in particular are stellar, and I'm banking on Kate Winslet finally winning an Oscar for her work here), but it's nothing I would want to subject myself to ever again. You see it once, you get the point; you've seen what there is to see. You see it twice, you're really just engaging in masochistic behavior. By this token, Revolutionary Road falls into a curious class of film: one that if done well will be depressing, but one that if not done well will still be depressing. Thank god it's done well.
Rocket Science (Jeffrey Blitz, 2007) 30
Rocket Science is a remarkably miserable movie. It is dreary to the fullest extent of its abilities, which are considerable. It also thinks it's funny, though by whose judgment I have no idea. This, a film ostensibly about high school debating, was recommended to me by a friend who knew that I spent many a weekend in high school competing at speech tournaments. In hindsight, I hope to God the recommendation didn't come because the main character reminded him of me. The so-called "hero" of this vapid ordeal has exactly zero likable qualities. He stutters, he's antisocial, he obviously has some pretty serious emotional problems (unless you count getting drunk and throwing a cello through someone's window as typical teenage behavior), and he's suitably lacking in any sort of personality. In other words, I couldn't have given a damn about him. He's not exactly the sort of guy who puts you on the edge of your seat rooting for him. The even worse news is, the film doesn't like him either. So for 100 minutes the kid gets pushed around, wrestles unsuccessfully with his personal demons, and ultimately ends up in a place arguably less desirable than he was when the film started. This is an underdog story; one might reasonably expect an arc with an ultimate triumph. Here, not so much. And when a comedy about a troubled teenager attempting to overcome his obstacles and emerge victorious accomplishes neither being amusing nor its story-based goals, I think it's safe to say the film as a whole is a complete failure. That it's also a wholly depressing experience is just an added bonus. At the very least, the film could've used more smartass, banjo-playing dry cleaner guy. He was at least somewhat interesting.
Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (David Mirkin, 1997) 65
Believe it or not, I actually got this for my dad for Christmas, but had never actually watched it myself. Well, the weekend I was sick I figured, "What the hell?" and curled up and gave it a looksie. To my surprise (and perhaps chagrin), I enjoyed it quite a bit. I suppose general classification would call this a "chick flick," but not in the abject, toe-curling way that would apply to a dumb rom-com or some weepy loved-and-lost relationship drama. Instead, Romy and Michele -- unlike its two terminal airhead heroines -- is actually pretty intelligent, and there are plenty of solid laughs to be had along the way. The premise? Romy and Michele, two incurable ditzes, learn that their 10-year high school reunion is in two weeks and decide to "better" themselves in order to look prosperous and successful (including a hilarious, half-baked plan to lie to former classmates about having invented Post-It notes in the intervening years). It's predictable and formulaic, sure, but it's a lot of fun. Although the necessarily-happy conclusion does require you to suspend a somewhat uncomfortable amount of disbelief, the preceding 80 minutes or so are entertaining, well-written, and have some delightfully pointed and accurate things to say both about high school and about the ingenuine, phony nature of these so-called "reunions." And I enjoyed it for that. I know I'm not its target audience, but that just goes to show that some of these for-the-ladies movies really can satisfy just about everyone looking to have a good time, even the male counterparts. I mean, my dad and I both like it. That's gotta say something.
Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, 1999) 75
A flashy, stylish, hyperkinetic action film that exists for the sole purpose of being a flashy, stylish, hyperkinetic action film. There's basically no substance beneath its glimmering, immaculately produced surface, but the movie's just so damn nice to look at that it really doesn't matter. It's a lot of fun: not the sort of thing I'd ever turn to for any sort of "substantial viewing experience," but it's a staggering exercise in technique, and it's highly entertaining. For a movie whose only goal is to entertain, I'd say that's a success.
The Rutles (Eric Idle & Gary Weis, 1978) 70
Not having watched this in years and years, I was concerned that my younger viewing self had played up this film's quality a bit too much and that I'd be slightly disappointed upon revisiting it. I shouldn't have worried. Eric Idle's unfortunately underrated Beatles sendup is still amusing after all these years, though definitely more sly and clever than straight-up hilarious (not that there's anything wrong with this at all; it's just slightly different from what I remembered). One good thing that comes with age: I actually get all the references now (I'm pretty sure the humor inherent in the Brian Epstein-inspired Leggy Mountbatten would have been lost on 12-year-old Chris; just a guess), and I'm able to recognize all of the curious guest cameos (like wtf that really is Mick Jagger/Paul Simon/George Harrison, as well as half the original SNL cast). So yeah. Good stuff. And short! You can watch this twice instead of watching Public Enemies once!
S
Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock, 1936) 67
Very old-school Hitchcock doesn't really work as an engaging suspense tale (it's clear he hadn't hit his stride just yet, although the signs are definitely there), but is nonetheless a skillfully made and entertaining piece of work. It also proves once again that the man had an incredibly bizarre sense of humor, as when a meeting between two criminals is halted so that they can stare into an aquarium tank and remark that a tortoise looks like it has a mustache. It's also unusually short, which I suppose was customary for the time (what with those pesky film stocks and all), so that doesn't allow it a whole lot of time to breathe or create any lasting mood, but that's all right. It's a fun movie. Despite its central plot points of bombing and death, it's light entertainment. It's enjoyable to watch. Though armed with the knowledge that Hitchcock would spend the next 25 years making films that were far superior, I still liked it quite a bit.
Scandal Sheet (Phil Karlson, 1952) 63
A fun, kind of nondescript but well-made film noir. Although it doesn't really give me any sort of incentive to revisit it, it entertains while it's unspooling, which means it does its job right.
Scotland, Pa. (Billy Morrissette, 2001) 69
How's this for a hook: "1970s fast-food version of Macbeth with Christopher Walken as a vegetarian Macduff." If you're anything like me, this will have not only immediately migrated to the top of your must-see list, but you'll actually already be halfway to the video store (or Netflix queue, as the case may be). The good news is that it delivers on that promise, at least insofar as its conceit will allow. In the grand scheme of Macbeth adaptations, I'd say this is somewhere in between Kurosawa's Throne of Blood (a classic, of course) and that post-apocalyptic Mad Max-style version my 10th grade English teacher showed us (which is incredibly bizarre and I still have no idea where she found it, because I can't). Morrissette manages something that, truthfully, has been tried a bazillion times and many fail at: being decently faithful to the Bard while still putting a clever, entertaining spin on one of his stories. By all accounts, Scotland, Pa. could have gone off the rails at any time; it never does, though, and as a result it becomes something of a small delight to watch. It's dryly funny in the only way that's appropriate for this sort of thing, and of course Christopher Walken is always fun to watch ("You've really done a lot with the place. Of course, the last time I was here there was a dead body in the fryilator!" has just entered the Movie Quote Hall of Fame). Familiarity with Shakespeare's play isn't necessary, of course, but I imagine it's somewhat more fun if you are. Nonetheless, I find it hard to believe most people wouldn't be greatly entertained by this. It's a hoot.
Scream (Wes Craven, 1996) 79
Still fresh, clever, and funny after all these years.
Se7en (David Fincher, 1995) 96
It's a testament to Fincher's craft that I still feel an overwhelming sense of dread while watching the scenes leading up to the conclusion, despite being all too aware of what happens. I don't know how many times I've seen this, but it always unfailingly puts me on edge. Maybe it isn't "scary" in a typical horror sense, but it's unshakably disturbing in ways very few other films have ever managed to be. At least for me. Se7en is a film that crawls under my skin and stays there. It doesn't need to rely on cheap JUMP! moments or (east) buckets of blood: it instead gets by on creating one of the most oppressively gloomy atmospheres I can recall in film, racheting up the tension little by little, and delivering a gut-punch mostly unparalleled in mainstream film. Call it what you will; I think it's incredibly brilliant.
Seven Pounds (Gabriele Muccino, 2008) 47
Ick. Contrived, saccharine blah. It doesn't do anything you don't expect it to, and doesn't do any of these expected things interestingly (it attempts a nonlinear editing style to try to conceal the "big twist," even though we the not-stupid viewers basically have it figured out within 15 minutes). The only legitimate surprise is that it features what may in fact be the single most ridiculous scene involving a jellyfish I have ever watched. But you have to sit through, like, 95% of the movie before you get to that. Which is to say: not worth it.
Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954) 95
If Seven Samurai had been the only film Akira Kurosawa ever made, I have no doubt the man would still be regarded as one of the finest directors who ever lived. Even with his almost inconceivably brilliant filmography, this remains his best work: a 207-minute epic of honor and humanity that is still just as jaw-dropping today as it must have been 55 years ago. Rewatching this not too long after having endured Che, it struck me just how phenomenally well Kurosawa handles his three and a half hours. A film should only ever be as long as it needs to be, and if 207 minutes seems excessive at first, just sit down and watch the film. You will not know where the time went. This never gets dull even for an instant: the characters, large and small, are all excellently developed (and, as with all Kurosawa films in which he appears, Toshiro Mifune steals every scene he's in), the story feels utterly natural and logical, and of course the compositions themselves are never less than beautiful (though the man was prodigiously talented in all aspects of his art, I've always felt Kurosawa's biggest asset was his visual style). And I could go on and on, but I won't. I can't do it justice. You just have to see it and experience it for yourself. It's a great film. One of the best. And it only gets better each time you watch it.
Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock, 1943) 74
A uniformly nasty and often brilliant tale of familial suspicion that, unfortunately, suffers from an abrupt and overly Hollywood-ish ending that sort of robs the proceedings of its wicked edge. Still, the majority of it is excellent.
Shallow Grave (Danny Boyle, 1994) 66
A vicious, meanspirited little thriller. It works, though. You have to suspend a healthy amount of disbelief (without saying it's impossible or even implausible, I'm not entirely sure when the key event that leads to the conclusion could have happened), but once you let yourself go the film is entertaining enough to work on its own terms. It has a biting edge that may be just a little too dark for a lot of people, not to mention a cast of characters who are fundamentally despicable, but these things suit the material. The last thing a story like this calls for is a warm, cuddly treatment; Danny Boyle puts it on ice and lets it stay there. It's also an interesting historical curiosity: this was both the feature debut for the now Oscar-winning Boyle (it predates even his breakthrough Trainspotting by a couple of years), as well as one of the first screen appearances for Ewan McGregor. It's clear even from these humble beginnings that both men are quite talented, and it's fun to know where both ended up. Shallow Grave is quite a bit darker than anything I would've expected from such an early stage, but it's enjoyable nonetheless. Fun, you might even say, in the most macabre of senses.
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) 77
Tons and tons of goodwill and high regard over the past few years have made this into something of a classic, and while I do have to agree that it's an impressively strong film, I also have a few reservations. Certainly, to call it Kubrick's best (as many have done) is to do a horrendous injustice to his 1964-1971 holy trinity, and perhaps some of his lesser-known films as well. Let's face it: as a haunted house/ghost story, the film is almost a complete failure; there are elements of it sprinked throughout, but they're too half-baked and sporadic to seem consequential at all. Aided by Jack Nicholson's iconic but nonetheless over-the-top performance, though, where the film really excels is in its depiction of madness. It's eerie, claustrophobic, and chilling. Almost all of the credit for this, really, goes to Kubrick. The Shining has a weak script. Sorry, but it does. The direction, however, is among the most flawless in history. Kubrick was a notorious perfectionist and he'd re-shoot scenes ad nauseum until he got exactly what he wanted. This film was in production for almost a year and a half and, I believe, used more miles of film stock than any other movie ever made. It shows, and it's kind of brilliant. The film is sparkling, pristine, and technically flawless. (Really, don't ever debate the talent of Stanley Kubrick with me. You may not like the films, but it's impossible to deny the man was a genius -- one of the best -- at what he did.) So, despite its weaknesses, The Shining is a compulsively watchable movie. It's just so damn well made that I have to admire it. Sure, Kubrick made better films, but none of them strike me as being as quintessentially a "director showcase" as this one. That, far more than the story itself, makes it a must-see.
Sin Nombre (Cary Fukunaga, 2009) 90
One of the most affirming feelings for a movie buff is the awareness of having been exposed to something novel, to emerge from a theater knowing that you have just experienced greatness. Unfortunately, the more films one sees, the less often this occurs; but in the end it just serves to intensify the feeling when it does happen. Sin Nombre is one hell of a fine film. The last time I can remember leaving a theater with that same feeling in my gut was almost a year ago (and you know which film I'm talking about). It's about time I was reminded what it feels like. To the extent that the film is being marketed at all, which it isn't, I take issue with the approach: face-value synopses make this sound like a movie strictly about Latin American immigration to the United States. While this does constitute a large portion of the film, it is also among the most provocative, not to mention unflinching, meditations on the brutality of gang violence I have ever seen. But ultimately these two themes, which start out running parallel to each other, coil together in a way that makes them fundamentally inseparable. The ensuing story is satisfying on every level stories are capable of satisfying on. This is a dark, frightening, and forceful film, but it's also a hopeful one. There's beauty in nearly every shot, and despite the overwhelming grimness in which the proceedings are mired, it refuses not to take the good along with the bad. In addition to telling its story with a nearly flawless urgency, this quality also lends it a humanity that makes one's emotional investment in the characters all the more rewarding. The payoff, though rooted in an unmistakable inevitability, is profound and moving in ways I still have not found words for. Sin Nombre is a miraculous achievement: the directorial debut of an American filmmaker who no doubt has a long and fruitful career ahead of him, and for the moment by orders of magnitude the best film of 2009. I'll definitely let you know if I see a better one before December's over, but let's be realistic here: I wouldn't hold my breath.
Six-String Samurai (Lance Mungia, 1998) 53
I'd say it's maybe just a little too much of a good thing. It's all well and good that they set out to make an absurd, largely pointless comedy with random silly monsters and a bunch of crazy shit that isn't supposed to make sense. I'm totally cool with that. It's just ... you have to have enough of said crazy shit so that your story doesn't lose momentum. The first half of this film is fantastic: its hilarious, WTF-bomb-dropping approach worked so excellently for me that it was just about the most fun I'd had watching a film in forever. Unfortunately, though, instead of introducing new stuff as the story rolls on, it starts to recycle itself (oh, look, more crazy monsters, except these live in underground pipes, etc.), and in the end it just becomes kind of tiresome. Again: too much of a good thing. So it ends not with a bang, but a whimper. And that's a shame, really, because there's a lot of genuinely hilarious stuff here; I give it a middling score not because I disliked it, but because it bites off more than it can chew and ultimately never recovers. Which isn't to say you shouldn't see it. You'll have a lot of fun with it. Just don't expect greatness (or even consistency) from it.
SLC Punk (James Merendino, 1998) 66
For its appealingly brief 96 minutes, SLC Punk walks a dangerous two-edged sword. It comes equipped with a well thought-out message, but lacks an effective means by which to deliver it. As a result, it opts for the bludgeoning technique, which -- needless to say -- can get a bit tiresome. After a while, you get it and wish the film would move on. It doesn't. Which isn't to say this is bad. On the contrary, it's actually quite entertaining. First of all, it has something to say, which puts it ahead of a good many films already, but it's also much funnier than I expected it to be. Which is to say, I wasn't expecting it to be played for laughs at all, but it is, and those laughs are genuine. For some reason, the scene of Steve-O's old friend attempting to apply for a job in a chothing store stands out. Who knows why? But, yeah, it's a good film. It's youthful, energetic, somewhat anarchic, and -- with these in mind -- fun. I just wish I could add "subtle" to that list of adjectives, but you can't have everything.
Slumdog Millionaire (Danny Boyle, 2008) 90
Damn, this was good. I mean, no, really: damn, this was good. It's such a rare experience to walk out of a so-called "feel-good movie" feeling good not only because the story itself was legitimately uplifting, but also because everything just WORKED. Calling this a game-show version of City of God may sound inadvertently deprecatory, it's actually a very apt comparison; the good news is, while not nearly as dark or violent, Slumdog Millionaire is very nearly as good as Meirelles' 2002 masterpiece. Stylishly directed by Danny Boyle (of Trainspotting and 28 Days Later fame) in a way that's flashy but adds to the goings-on, this is a simple story amazingly well-told with great performances and visuals to accompany it. The main character is so damn likable that you're really on the edge of your seat the whole time just hoping he'll pull through. In a year distressingly absent of great movies, here's one that's crept in just under the finish line. I can't even begin to tell you how welcome it is.
Some Like It Hot (Billy Wilder, 1959) 78
One of the all-time great movie comedies. I really don't have too much to say about this one, other than it holds up really well. I've seen this about six or seven times now and it's still consistently hilarious. It's not perfect: some of the jokes do fall flat, and others likewise wear thin with time, but this is the case with pretty much every comedy. Wilder knew what he was doing and he did it very, very well. And hats off to him to tackling such an edgy subject in an era when such things were most definitely not smiled upon.
The Spirit (Frank Miller, 2008) 36
If Sin City ever met the old-school TV Batman by way of Re-Animator, the result would probably be something like The Spirit, Frank Miller's ludicrously misguided comic book adaptation. It's awful in the same way Richard Kelly's Southland Tales was awful: it thinks it's really awesome and ambitious, but it's really just a hilarious trainwreck. And I qualify my use of "hilarious": it's not that the movie itself is funny. It tries to be, but it isn't. It's the fact that it thinks it's funny that makes it so damn funny. There's a big difference. Samuel L. Jackson hitting Gabriel Macht over the head with a toilet and screaming "TOILETS ARE ALWAYS FUNNY!" by itself is not amusing. However, the fact that Miller even put it into the movie is goddamn hilarious. See what I'm getting at? The movie is a long series of one WTF after another. It's so bad it almost works. Almost. Did I mention it also thinks it's a hardboiled film noir? Well, it does. And that, much like just about everything else in this movie, is a bad move.
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring (Kim Ki-Duk, 2003) 80
Gorgeous. Breathtakingly gorgeous. Really, I can throw these words around, but you won't know until you see it. This, quite simply, has some of the most tremendous cinematography I've ever seen. Every single frame from this film is a composition that I wouldn't mind (and in fact, would like) hanging on my wall. Korean filmmaker Kim Ki-Duk, the man behind the also-great 3-Iron and Time, is responsible for some of the most poignant and haunting films to come out of Asia this decade. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring, in addition to its stunning beauty, holds true to both of these qualities, and emerges as its director's best work (from what I've seen, at least). Its relatively dialogue-free story is quite simple, but very emotionally resonant. Though owing hugely to the Buddhist faith (something I admittedly know little about), there's a universality about the proceedings that makes its themes of sin and redemption really hit home. The story coupled with the visuals make for an awe-inspiring, immersive experience. This is what cinema can accomplish as a visual medium. This is what I call actually "seeing" a movie. So do yourself the favor of tracking it down. Even if the story doesn't grab you (it's deliberately paced, to say the least), I find it hard to believe anyone could be disappointed with the images Ki-Duk has managed to capture on film.
Star Trek (J.J. Abrams, 2009) 74
Well, holy crap. They did it right. I'll admit straight out that I'm not a Star Trek fan at all, but it's nonetheless in my blood and that makes me feel a certain amount of reverence. However, this movie manages to do something unthinkable and kind of miraculous: completely lift the nerd stigma that's plagued the franchise for decades while still being faithful to its roots and its characters. I don't know about you, but I liked the cast a lot: Chris Pine is an excellent Kirk, proving once and for all he's not just a Shatner look-alike; Zachary Quinto and John Cho are very good as Spock and Sulu, respectively; and no better actor in the world could've been chosen for Scotty than Simon Pegg. So it's an endearing ensemble. Also, perhaps a bit more expectedly, the movie's gorgeous: the budget went into the CGI, and it shows. Beautiful spacescapes and explosions take up a large portion of the film, and it's hard to take your eyes off of them. Most importantly, though, it's fun. It's incredibly solid popcorn escapism that's equally capable of entertaining, impressing, and surprising. And I bet the biggest surprise of all is that no one saw that coming. So yeah: it's awesome. Even if you do have to put up with Anton Yelchin's awful fake Russian accent.
Sukiyaki Western Django (Takashi Miike, 2007) 68
I must admit, half the fun of seeing this again was being with people who had not watched it yet. Let's face it: this is really the sort of movie you watch once, are amused by, and then move on with your life. There's nothing deep here, no hidden details or worldly food for thought that would require multiple viewings. It's supposed to be a self-conscious, ridiculous, wildly over-the top homage to everything, an endeavor it more or less succeeds at. But seeing it with people who don't quite know what to expect is a treat in and of itself: Sukiyaki Western Django is a movie that is so patently absurd that literally anything can happen at any moment, and gauging reactions can sometimes be as much fun as the lunacy that's transpiring onscreen. Does it hold up as a film? Yeah, sure. Like I said before, it does what it sets out to do. If you're making up your own rules it's hard to break any of them, and if one thing can be said about the film, it's that there's nothing else quite like it in the world. Maybe it's not an especially great film, but it's a fun one that I'd really have no trouble recommending. That alone puts it way ahead of a lot of other films, and those don't even have a heavily made-up Quentin Tarantino in a steam-powered wheelchair.
Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950) 93
The way I see it, Billy Wilder is just about the greatest director that no one knows about. Names like Kubrick and Hitchcock get thrown around constantly by all manner of film fans, hardcore and casual alike, but for some reason Wilder seems to get lost in the shuffle. The truth is, though, that from the mid-40s to the early 60s, the man basically just made one amazing film after another. However, none in my opinion are quite as amazing as Sunset Blvd., still one of the most profoundly unsettling films ever released by a major studio. Let's face it: Wilder had balls. Big ones. For when it was made, this was edgy stuff. It's still potent almost sixty years later. (The same thing struck me the first time I watched Double Indemnity, Ace in the Hole, and Some Like It Hot -- the man simply refused to play it safe, which no doubt is an integral part of his greatness.) The usual Movie Night crew was chuckling and commenting throughout, but it was easy for me to see that it wasn't so much genuine amusement as it was nervous energy. Despite preconceived notions about "old movies," this is not an "easy" film. It tackles some dark, disturbing subject matter with a frankness that makes it indelible. And with a strong script, brilliant performances (Gloria Swanson is ... beyond words as Norma Desmond), and top-notch direction, it's little wonder this has become one of the all-time greats. I respectfully agree.
Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (Chan-Wook Park, 2003) 64
Let's put it this way: I am so, so, so glad I saw this before Oldboy. If I'd seen it after, it -- as good as it is -- would've been a disappointment. And it's a very good revenge film. It's stylish and entertaining and held my interest throughout (though I do agree, Adam, that the "let's spell it out for you!" ending can be done without; I got it well before the voiceover came on), but it's also the sort of film one leaves expecting a bit more from. Luckily for us, more is coming. In my case, I only had to wait 30 minutes for it.
Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008) 71
Charlie Kaufman is no lightweight. He's written no less than three of our finest contemporary movies (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation., and Eternal Sunshine, for those keeping score). This film, his directorial debut, is the result of all that success. As such, it's very much what you might expect. Being torn between deciding whether something is brilliant or utter pretentious wankery is not a common condition in film today, but Synecdoche, New York delivers on that promise. It's two hours of a maverick screenwriter trying, much like his main character, to create the ultimate "deep, meaningful story about life." Does Kaufman succeed? No, but neither does his character. That's the point. The movie is highly imperfect, but in that respect it's totally perfect, because life itself is similarly flawed. So do you see the issues I'm having trying to review this stupid thing? Every potential mistake it makes can be totally rectified by playing the "oh but it's life" card. So that just leaves me with my opinion. What did I think of it? Well, I think Roger Ebert is right: it's the sort of film you should never see unless you've seen it already. It's difficult, complex, unwieldy, bizarre, highly surreal, multi-layered, and -- I suspect -- quite meaningful. Hell, it's a Kaufman film. It hit me on an intriguing emotional level the first time; who's to say how it'd affect me a second? That is to say, I liked it. About as much, perhaps, as I like life itself. On some days, it's great. On other days, it sucks. On most days, it's simply a very curious thing.
Very old-school Hitchcock doesn't really work as an engaging suspense tale (it's clear he hadn't hit his stride just yet, although the signs are definitely there), but is nonetheless a skillfully made and entertaining piece of work. It also proves once again that the man had an incredibly bizarre sense of humor, as when a meeting between two criminals is halted so that they can stare into an aquarium tank and remark that a tortoise looks like it has a mustache. It's also unusually short, which I suppose was customary for the time (what with those pesky film stocks and all), so that doesn't allow it a whole lot of time to breathe or create any lasting mood, but that's all right. It's a fun movie. Despite its central plot points of bombing and death, it's light entertainment. It's enjoyable to watch. Though armed with the knowledge that Hitchcock would spend the next 25 years making films that were far superior, I still liked it quite a bit.
Scandal Sheet (Phil Karlson, 1952) 63
A fun, kind of nondescript but well-made film noir. Although it doesn't really give me any sort of incentive to revisit it, it entertains while it's unspooling, which means it does its job right.
Scotland, Pa. (Billy Morrissette, 2001) 69
How's this for a hook: "1970s fast-food version of Macbeth with Christopher Walken as a vegetarian Macduff." If you're anything like me, this will have not only immediately migrated to the top of your must-see list, but you'll actually already be halfway to the video store (or Netflix queue, as the case may be). The good news is that it delivers on that promise, at least insofar as its conceit will allow. In the grand scheme of Macbeth adaptations, I'd say this is somewhere in between Kurosawa's Throne of Blood (a classic, of course) and that post-apocalyptic Mad Max-style version my 10th grade English teacher showed us (which is incredibly bizarre and I still have no idea where she found it, because I can't). Morrissette manages something that, truthfully, has been tried a bazillion times and many fail at: being decently faithful to the Bard while still putting a clever, entertaining spin on one of his stories. By all accounts, Scotland, Pa. could have gone off the rails at any time; it never does, though, and as a result it becomes something of a small delight to watch. It's dryly funny in the only way that's appropriate for this sort of thing, and of course Christopher Walken is always fun to watch ("You've really done a lot with the place. Of course, the last time I was here there was a dead body in the fryilator!" has just entered the Movie Quote Hall of Fame). Familiarity with Shakespeare's play isn't necessary, of course, but I imagine it's somewhat more fun if you are. Nonetheless, I find it hard to believe most people wouldn't be greatly entertained by this. It's a hoot.
Scream (Wes Craven, 1996) 79
Still fresh, clever, and funny after all these years.
Se7en (David Fincher, 1995) 96
It's a testament to Fincher's craft that I still feel an overwhelming sense of dread while watching the scenes leading up to the conclusion, despite being all too aware of what happens. I don't know how many times I've seen this, but it always unfailingly puts me on edge. Maybe it isn't "scary" in a typical horror sense, but it's unshakably disturbing in ways very few other films have ever managed to be. At least for me. Se7en is a film that crawls under my skin and stays there. It doesn't need to rely on cheap JUMP! moments or (east) buckets of blood: it instead gets by on creating one of the most oppressively gloomy atmospheres I can recall in film, racheting up the tension little by little, and delivering a gut-punch mostly unparalleled in mainstream film. Call it what you will; I think it's incredibly brilliant.
Seven Pounds (Gabriele Muccino, 2008) 47
Ick. Contrived, saccharine blah. It doesn't do anything you don't expect it to, and doesn't do any of these expected things interestingly (it attempts a nonlinear editing style to try to conceal the "big twist," even though we the not-stupid viewers basically have it figured out within 15 minutes). The only legitimate surprise is that it features what may in fact be the single most ridiculous scene involving a jellyfish I have ever watched. But you have to sit through, like, 95% of the movie before you get to that. Which is to say: not worth it.
Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954) 95
If Seven Samurai had been the only film Akira Kurosawa ever made, I have no doubt the man would still be regarded as one of the finest directors who ever lived. Even with his almost inconceivably brilliant filmography, this remains his best work: a 207-minute epic of honor and humanity that is still just as jaw-dropping today as it must have been 55 years ago. Rewatching this not too long after having endured Che, it struck me just how phenomenally well Kurosawa handles his three and a half hours. A film should only ever be as long as it needs to be, and if 207 minutes seems excessive at first, just sit down and watch the film. You will not know where the time went. This never gets dull even for an instant: the characters, large and small, are all excellently developed (and, as with all Kurosawa films in which he appears, Toshiro Mifune steals every scene he's in), the story feels utterly natural and logical, and of course the compositions themselves are never less than beautiful (though the man was prodigiously talented in all aspects of his art, I've always felt Kurosawa's biggest asset was his visual style). And I could go on and on, but I won't. I can't do it justice. You just have to see it and experience it for yourself. It's a great film. One of the best. And it only gets better each time you watch it.
Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock, 1943) 74
A uniformly nasty and often brilliant tale of familial suspicion that, unfortunately, suffers from an abrupt and overly Hollywood-ish ending that sort of robs the proceedings of its wicked edge. Still, the majority of it is excellent.
Shallow Grave (Danny Boyle, 1994) 66
A vicious, meanspirited little thriller. It works, though. You have to suspend a healthy amount of disbelief (without saying it's impossible or even implausible, I'm not entirely sure when the key event that leads to the conclusion could have happened), but once you let yourself go the film is entertaining enough to work on its own terms. It has a biting edge that may be just a little too dark for a lot of people, not to mention a cast of characters who are fundamentally despicable, but these things suit the material. The last thing a story like this calls for is a warm, cuddly treatment; Danny Boyle puts it on ice and lets it stay there. It's also an interesting historical curiosity: this was both the feature debut for the now Oscar-winning Boyle (it predates even his breakthrough Trainspotting by a couple of years), as well as one of the first screen appearances for Ewan McGregor. It's clear even from these humble beginnings that both men are quite talented, and it's fun to know where both ended up. Shallow Grave is quite a bit darker than anything I would've expected from such an early stage, but it's enjoyable nonetheless. Fun, you might even say, in the most macabre of senses.
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) 77
Tons and tons of goodwill and high regard over the past few years have made this into something of a classic, and while I do have to agree that it's an impressively strong film, I also have a few reservations. Certainly, to call it Kubrick's best (as many have done) is to do a horrendous injustice to his 1964-1971 holy trinity, and perhaps some of his lesser-known films as well. Let's face it: as a haunted house/ghost story, the film is almost a complete failure; there are elements of it sprinked throughout, but they're too half-baked and sporadic to seem consequential at all. Aided by Jack Nicholson's iconic but nonetheless over-the-top performance, though, where the film really excels is in its depiction of madness. It's eerie, claustrophobic, and chilling. Almost all of the credit for this, really, goes to Kubrick. The Shining has a weak script. Sorry, but it does. The direction, however, is among the most flawless in history. Kubrick was a notorious perfectionist and he'd re-shoot scenes ad nauseum until he got exactly what he wanted. This film was in production for almost a year and a half and, I believe, used more miles of film stock than any other movie ever made. It shows, and it's kind of brilliant. The film is sparkling, pristine, and technically flawless. (Really, don't ever debate the talent of Stanley Kubrick with me. You may not like the films, but it's impossible to deny the man was a genius -- one of the best -- at what he did.) So, despite its weaknesses, The Shining is a compulsively watchable movie. It's just so damn well made that I have to admire it. Sure, Kubrick made better films, but none of them strike me as being as quintessentially a "director showcase" as this one. That, far more than the story itself, makes it a must-see.
Sin Nombre (Cary Fukunaga, 2009) 90
One of the most affirming feelings for a movie buff is the awareness of having been exposed to something novel, to emerge from a theater knowing that you have just experienced greatness. Unfortunately, the more films one sees, the less often this occurs; but in the end it just serves to intensify the feeling when it does happen. Sin Nombre is one hell of a fine film. The last time I can remember leaving a theater with that same feeling in my gut was almost a year ago (and you know which film I'm talking about). It's about time I was reminded what it feels like. To the extent that the film is being marketed at all, which it isn't, I take issue with the approach: face-value synopses make this sound like a movie strictly about Latin American immigration to the United States. While this does constitute a large portion of the film, it is also among the most provocative, not to mention unflinching, meditations on the brutality of gang violence I have ever seen. But ultimately these two themes, which start out running parallel to each other, coil together in a way that makes them fundamentally inseparable. The ensuing story is satisfying on every level stories are capable of satisfying on. This is a dark, frightening, and forceful film, but it's also a hopeful one. There's beauty in nearly every shot, and despite the overwhelming grimness in which the proceedings are mired, it refuses not to take the good along with the bad. In addition to telling its story with a nearly flawless urgency, this quality also lends it a humanity that makes one's emotional investment in the characters all the more rewarding. The payoff, though rooted in an unmistakable inevitability, is profound and moving in ways I still have not found words for. Sin Nombre is a miraculous achievement: the directorial debut of an American filmmaker who no doubt has a long and fruitful career ahead of him, and for the moment by orders of magnitude the best film of 2009. I'll definitely let you know if I see a better one before December's over, but let's be realistic here: I wouldn't hold my breath.
Six-String Samurai (Lance Mungia, 1998) 53
I'd say it's maybe just a little too much of a good thing. It's all well and good that they set out to make an absurd, largely pointless comedy with random silly monsters and a bunch of crazy shit that isn't supposed to make sense. I'm totally cool with that. It's just ... you have to have enough of said crazy shit so that your story doesn't lose momentum. The first half of this film is fantastic: its hilarious, WTF-bomb-dropping approach worked so excellently for me that it was just about the most fun I'd had watching a film in forever. Unfortunately, though, instead of introducing new stuff as the story rolls on, it starts to recycle itself (oh, look, more crazy monsters, except these live in underground pipes, etc.), and in the end it just becomes kind of tiresome. Again: too much of a good thing. So it ends not with a bang, but a whimper. And that's a shame, really, because there's a lot of genuinely hilarious stuff here; I give it a middling score not because I disliked it, but because it bites off more than it can chew and ultimately never recovers. Which isn't to say you shouldn't see it. You'll have a lot of fun with it. Just don't expect greatness (or even consistency) from it.
SLC Punk (James Merendino, 1998) 66
For its appealingly brief 96 minutes, SLC Punk walks a dangerous two-edged sword. It comes equipped with a well thought-out message, but lacks an effective means by which to deliver it. As a result, it opts for the bludgeoning technique, which -- needless to say -- can get a bit tiresome. After a while, you get it and wish the film would move on. It doesn't. Which isn't to say this is bad. On the contrary, it's actually quite entertaining. First of all, it has something to say, which puts it ahead of a good many films already, but it's also much funnier than I expected it to be. Which is to say, I wasn't expecting it to be played for laughs at all, but it is, and those laughs are genuine. For some reason, the scene of Steve-O's old friend attempting to apply for a job in a chothing store stands out. Who knows why? But, yeah, it's a good film. It's youthful, energetic, somewhat anarchic, and -- with these in mind -- fun. I just wish I could add "subtle" to that list of adjectives, but you can't have everything.
Slumdog Millionaire (Danny Boyle, 2008) 90
Damn, this was good. I mean, no, really: damn, this was good. It's such a rare experience to walk out of a so-called "feel-good movie" feeling good not only because the story itself was legitimately uplifting, but also because everything just WORKED. Calling this a game-show version of City of God may sound inadvertently deprecatory, it's actually a very apt comparison; the good news is, while not nearly as dark or violent, Slumdog Millionaire is very nearly as good as Meirelles' 2002 masterpiece. Stylishly directed by Danny Boyle (of Trainspotting and 28 Days Later fame) in a way that's flashy but adds to the goings-on, this is a simple story amazingly well-told with great performances and visuals to accompany it. The main character is so damn likable that you're really on the edge of your seat the whole time just hoping he'll pull through. In a year distressingly absent of great movies, here's one that's crept in just under the finish line. I can't even begin to tell you how welcome it is.
Some Like It Hot (Billy Wilder, 1959) 78
One of the all-time great movie comedies. I really don't have too much to say about this one, other than it holds up really well. I've seen this about six or seven times now and it's still consistently hilarious. It's not perfect: some of the jokes do fall flat, and others likewise wear thin with time, but this is the case with pretty much every comedy. Wilder knew what he was doing and he did it very, very well. And hats off to him to tackling such an edgy subject in an era when such things were most definitely not smiled upon.
The Spirit (Frank Miller, 2008) 36
If Sin City ever met the old-school TV Batman by way of Re-Animator, the result would probably be something like The Spirit, Frank Miller's ludicrously misguided comic book adaptation. It's awful in the same way Richard Kelly's Southland Tales was awful: it thinks it's really awesome and ambitious, but it's really just a hilarious trainwreck. And I qualify my use of "hilarious": it's not that the movie itself is funny. It tries to be, but it isn't. It's the fact that it thinks it's funny that makes it so damn funny. There's a big difference. Samuel L. Jackson hitting Gabriel Macht over the head with a toilet and screaming "TOILETS ARE ALWAYS FUNNY!" by itself is not amusing. However, the fact that Miller even put it into the movie is goddamn hilarious. See what I'm getting at? The movie is a long series of one WTF after another. It's so bad it almost works. Almost. Did I mention it also thinks it's a hardboiled film noir? Well, it does. And that, much like just about everything else in this movie, is a bad move.
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring (Kim Ki-Duk, 2003) 80
Gorgeous. Breathtakingly gorgeous. Really, I can throw these words around, but you won't know until you see it. This, quite simply, has some of the most tremendous cinematography I've ever seen. Every single frame from this film is a composition that I wouldn't mind (and in fact, would like) hanging on my wall. Korean filmmaker Kim Ki-Duk, the man behind the also-great 3-Iron and Time, is responsible for some of the most poignant and haunting films to come out of Asia this decade. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring, in addition to its stunning beauty, holds true to both of these qualities, and emerges as its director's best work (from what I've seen, at least). Its relatively dialogue-free story is quite simple, but very emotionally resonant. Though owing hugely to the Buddhist faith (something I admittedly know little about), there's a universality about the proceedings that makes its themes of sin and redemption really hit home. The story coupled with the visuals make for an awe-inspiring, immersive experience. This is what cinema can accomplish as a visual medium. This is what I call actually "seeing" a movie. So do yourself the favor of tracking it down. Even if the story doesn't grab you (it's deliberately paced, to say the least), I find it hard to believe anyone could be disappointed with the images Ki-Duk has managed to capture on film.
Star Trek (J.J. Abrams, 2009) 74
Well, holy crap. They did it right. I'll admit straight out that I'm not a Star Trek fan at all, but it's nonetheless in my blood and that makes me feel a certain amount of reverence. However, this movie manages to do something unthinkable and kind of miraculous: completely lift the nerd stigma that's plagued the franchise for decades while still being faithful to its roots and its characters. I don't know about you, but I liked the cast a lot: Chris Pine is an excellent Kirk, proving once and for all he's not just a Shatner look-alike; Zachary Quinto and John Cho are very good as Spock and Sulu, respectively; and no better actor in the world could've been chosen for Scotty than Simon Pegg. So it's an endearing ensemble. Also, perhaps a bit more expectedly, the movie's gorgeous: the budget went into the CGI, and it shows. Beautiful spacescapes and explosions take up a large portion of the film, and it's hard to take your eyes off of them. Most importantly, though, it's fun. It's incredibly solid popcorn escapism that's equally capable of entertaining, impressing, and surprising. And I bet the biggest surprise of all is that no one saw that coming. So yeah: it's awesome. Even if you do have to put up with Anton Yelchin's awful fake Russian accent.
Sukiyaki Western Django (Takashi Miike, 2007) 68
I must admit, half the fun of seeing this again was being with people who had not watched it yet. Let's face it: this is really the sort of movie you watch once, are amused by, and then move on with your life. There's nothing deep here, no hidden details or worldly food for thought that would require multiple viewings. It's supposed to be a self-conscious, ridiculous, wildly over-the top homage to everything, an endeavor it more or less succeeds at. But seeing it with people who don't quite know what to expect is a treat in and of itself: Sukiyaki Western Django is a movie that is so patently absurd that literally anything can happen at any moment, and gauging reactions can sometimes be as much fun as the lunacy that's transpiring onscreen. Does it hold up as a film? Yeah, sure. Like I said before, it does what it sets out to do. If you're making up your own rules it's hard to break any of them, and if one thing can be said about the film, it's that there's nothing else quite like it in the world. Maybe it's not an especially great film, but it's a fun one that I'd really have no trouble recommending. That alone puts it way ahead of a lot of other films, and those don't even have a heavily made-up Quentin Tarantino in a steam-powered wheelchair.
Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950) 93
The way I see it, Billy Wilder is just about the greatest director that no one knows about. Names like Kubrick and Hitchcock get thrown around constantly by all manner of film fans, hardcore and casual alike, but for some reason Wilder seems to get lost in the shuffle. The truth is, though, that from the mid-40s to the early 60s, the man basically just made one amazing film after another. However, none in my opinion are quite as amazing as Sunset Blvd., still one of the most profoundly unsettling films ever released by a major studio. Let's face it: Wilder had balls. Big ones. For when it was made, this was edgy stuff. It's still potent almost sixty years later. (The same thing struck me the first time I watched Double Indemnity, Ace in the Hole, and Some Like It Hot -- the man simply refused to play it safe, which no doubt is an integral part of his greatness.) The usual Movie Night crew was chuckling and commenting throughout, but it was easy for me to see that it wasn't so much genuine amusement as it was nervous energy. Despite preconceived notions about "old movies," this is not an "easy" film. It tackles some dark, disturbing subject matter with a frankness that makes it indelible. And with a strong script, brilliant performances (Gloria Swanson is ... beyond words as Norma Desmond), and top-notch direction, it's little wonder this has become one of the all-time greats. I respectfully agree.
Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (Chan-Wook Park, 2003) 64
Let's put it this way: I am so, so, so glad I saw this before Oldboy. If I'd seen it after, it -- as good as it is -- would've been a disappointment. And it's a very good revenge film. It's stylish and entertaining and held my interest throughout (though I do agree, Adam, that the "let's spell it out for you!" ending can be done without; I got it well before the voiceover came on), but it's also the sort of film one leaves expecting a bit more from. Luckily for us, more is coming. In my case, I only had to wait 30 minutes for it.
Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008) 71
Charlie Kaufman is no lightweight. He's written no less than three of our finest contemporary movies (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation., and Eternal Sunshine, for those keeping score). This film, his directorial debut, is the result of all that success. As such, it's very much what you might expect. Being torn between deciding whether something is brilliant or utter pretentious wankery is not a common condition in film today, but Synecdoche, New York delivers on that promise. It's two hours of a maverick screenwriter trying, much like his main character, to create the ultimate "deep, meaningful story about life." Does Kaufman succeed? No, but neither does his character. That's the point. The movie is highly imperfect, but in that respect it's totally perfect, because life itself is similarly flawed. So do you see the issues I'm having trying to review this stupid thing? Every potential mistake it makes can be totally rectified by playing the "oh but it's life" card. So that just leaves me with my opinion. What did I think of it? Well, I think Roger Ebert is right: it's the sort of film you should never see unless you've seen it already. It's difficult, complex, unwieldy, bizarre, highly surreal, multi-layered, and -- I suspect -- quite meaningful. Hell, it's a Kaufman film. It hit me on an intriguing emotional level the first time; who's to say how it'd affect me a second? That is to say, I liked it. About as much, perhaps, as I like life itself. On some days, it's great. On other days, it sucks. On most days, it's simply a very curious thing.
T
The Tenant (Roman Polanski, 1976) 38
An discomfitingly misguided film, not to mention ludicrous and slow as molasses. Roger Ebert hit the nail on the head: if The Tenant weren't a Roman Polanski film, it'd be laughed off as total garbage. Clearly he's trying to one-up himself here and outdo Repulsion; to say he fails miserably would be an understatement. Repulsion was not a bad film, but it felt like a somewhat undercooked one; still, it was forgivable. It was the work of a younger and less experienced director. The Tenant is the work of a man who had just finished making Chinatown, one of the greatest detective movies of all-time, and as such it's just plain embarrassing. I suppose this could've worked as a simple paranoia story. It would've been predictable, but with Polanski's talent for conjuring up atmospherics, it still might've been decent. But when the main character (played by Polanski himself, no less) starts to dress in drag and trip out and basically go down the rabbit hole, the movie effectively reaches the point of no return. The slowness of the narrative is frustrating up to that point, but when it chooses to reward us with that nonsense, it becomes flat-out tedious. And then there's the ending. Oh god, the ending. As if it weren't enough to see Polanski in drag and makeup hurl himself through a third-story window, you get to see him -- bruised and bloodied -- crawl up the stairs and do it again. If this were a smarter film, I'd suspect some sort of tongue-in-cheek parody at work. But no. This is just fucking stupid. And to think this has the audacity to call itself a horror film. What a riot. The only thing that's scary is that it got made in the first place. The rest of it's just morbidly fascinating, like watching a trainwreck. You know it's awful, but somehow it's just impossible to look away.
Tenebre (Dario Argento, 1982) 57
There's a certain self-conscious ridiculousness surrounding this movie that I really got into. Whether or not Argento is actually taking himself seriously I don't know, but the film comes across as so completely campy and un-serious that it's hard not to find it just a little bit endearing. Plus, it has a bitchin' soundtrack that just screams 1982. So yeah: not great, but not terrible either. Fun. Unpretentious. Bloody. It's not scary in the slightest, of course, but I'm really not sure it's supposed to be. It's just, for all its murder and mayhem, a decent lightweight entertainment. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.
Terminator Salvation (McG, 2009) 59
It's a perfectly acceptable action flick. There's nothing especially great about it, but there's nothing especially terrible either. It's just an action flick. If you want to see kinetic fight scenes, things blowing up, and fast-paced car chases without any other pretenses, look no further. I guess I'm just kind of spoiled by the James Cameron films: Terminator 2 is among the best sci-fi/action movies ever made, and while it's ridiculous to expect Terminator Salvation to even come close to that film's greatness, it's still all too obvious what can be accomplished with these characters and this story if one tries hard enough. Still, it misses by a long shot being the trainwreck that T3 was, and -- like I said -- it's got some cool explosions and CGI stuff. Plus, part of it was filmed right across the street from my house. This doesn't change how good the film is, of course, but it kinda makes me like it just a little bit more. I'm shallow like that.
Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989) 45
I suppose calling this the Japanese Eraserhead wouldn't be too far off the mark. While there is some semblance of a coherent narrative, it really plays second-banana to the fact that the director just wants to fuck you up bad. But David Lynch is an extremely skilled director, and he's capable of making brilliant films from elements that would be insufferable in anyone else's hands. So whereas Eraserhead is fucked up and weird and disturbing, it clicks with me. It works. Tetsuo, on the other hand, never rises above just being a series of surreal, hyperkinetic grotesqueries. Technically, the film is brilliant: the editing is virtuoso, to say the least. But the thing is, you get it rather quickly. I'd say that by the 30-minute mark at the very latest, you've seen what there is to see. Even though the film itself is a very brief 63 minutes, it still feels like it just goes on and on and on. There's no doubt Shinya Tsukamoto made the film he wanted to make (the ultra-stylish final product glistens with a sort of rough-edged, demented perfectionism), and the film does have its avid cult followers, but I can't really count myself among them. I am glad I saw it. It satisfied my curiosities. But it's not the sort of thing I think I'd ever need to return to.
The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949) 76
The premise itself hasn't aged especially well, but the cinematography is the stuff of legends. Harry Lime has arguably the best character introduction scene in film history. Also: it's really hard to go wrong Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten. I mean, I'm just sayin', 'cause they were in that one other movie too.
This Is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner, 1984) 84
Eh, everyone's seen this. We all know how good it is. I don't think I need to say anything about it.
Time (Kim Ki-Duk, 2006) 76
A haunting and poignant film from South Korea, which -- at least in terms of what gets international distribution -- seems to be a powerhouse for haunting and poignant films. Upon further consideration and the inevitable second viewing, I may even raise that 76, because there are a lot of intriguing ideas here that are handled very, very well. The general idea runs thusly: a jealous woman, afraid her boyfriend may be getting bored and tired of her, has plastic surgery to completely alter her facial appearance. Then, as the "new" woman, she begins a relationship with the same boyfriend, who of course does not realize that she is the same woman. The film refuses to shy away from the difficult ethical and emotional ramifications of this, and the result is both unsettling and provocative. Ki-Duk (whose, well, haunting and poignant 2004 film 3-Iron is also well worth seeing) is, if anything, a master of subtlety: he plays the whole affair very low-key, develops his two main characters enough to make them utterly believable, and then places them smack-dab in the middle of a moral puzzle that, by nature, has no easy answer. It's not light entertainment, to be sure, but it's the sort of thing that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go. For that alone I admire it, but it also has something even deeper to say about love and human attraction, and the way it says these things makes it something of a triumph. It's definitely worth tracking down; I know I want to see it again very soon.
Tokyo Gore Police (Yoshihiro Nishimura, 2008) 34
I'm not the kind of guy who loses his shit just because something is Japanese. I don't get people who do. Our Japanese friends, colorful as their culture may be, are just as capable of making a bad film as anyone else. To be honest, you kinda know what you're getting yourself into with a title like Tokyo Gore Police. It's a splatterfest, and its main goal is to showcase as many gruesome mutilations as its 110-minute runtime will allow. And I get that. I'm cool with that. I'm one of the least squeamish people you'll ever meet, so that's not my problem with it. My problem with it is that it's just a bad film. I suppose the ooey-gooey blood and gore is effective in some exaggerated way, but it looks fake. It looks like movie gore. To add to that, the story (highly trained police killer wants revenge for her father's murder) is pretty pedestrian and uninvolving, which in itself wouldn't be too much of a burden if the heroine wasn't so damn uninteresting. It's impossible to connect with her, especially when she's really not that sympathetic (she bloodbathes some random dude who feels her up on the subway). To round it out, poor continuity editing makes this seem more like an extended trippy dream sequence than a coherent story. But oh well. It definitely has promise (I like the general idea quite a bit: futuristic Tokyo, privatized police force with extreme crime-fighting strategies, and so on), but it doesn't focus that promise in a way I find satisfying. Audiences that just want to see people get gored and mutilated and hacked up and bloodied in ridiculously graphic ways will probably get into it; I wanted a little more emotion and a stronger plot to justify it. Or maybe there's just some cosmic law that states that a sane and ethical person is only allowed, based on moral principles, to like one film of this ilk. I found that film when I watched Miike's Ichi the Killer (which is just as grotesque and graphic, but has a certain something that the Tokyo Gore Police Club lacks). So just watch that one instead, yes?
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
The one thing I don't understand about this film (or more specifically, I suppose, about the Irvine Welsh novel it's based on -- which I do own a copy of and I will read whenever I get a chance, i.e. summer) is what the hell the title means. Is it slang? Is there some implicit, symbolic meaning? Is it just a pleasant alternative to Junkies Gone Wild? If I ever meet Mr. Welsh, I'll have to ask him. Also, I didn't realize until this viewing that Welsh actually has a cameo, playing the dealer who gives Renton the suppositories at the beginning. But these are just details. The big picture remains the same: this is still a good, solid, entertaining movie. It's not a great one (if you want one of those, I urge you look no further than Boyle's recent Oscar winner), but for what it is I say it does quite well. You could definitely find much worse ways to spend an hour and a half.
An discomfitingly misguided film, not to mention ludicrous and slow as molasses. Roger Ebert hit the nail on the head: if The Tenant weren't a Roman Polanski film, it'd be laughed off as total garbage. Clearly he's trying to one-up himself here and outdo Repulsion; to say he fails miserably would be an understatement. Repulsion was not a bad film, but it felt like a somewhat undercooked one; still, it was forgivable. It was the work of a younger and less experienced director. The Tenant is the work of a man who had just finished making Chinatown, one of the greatest detective movies of all-time, and as such it's just plain embarrassing. I suppose this could've worked as a simple paranoia story. It would've been predictable, but with Polanski's talent for conjuring up atmospherics, it still might've been decent. But when the main character (played by Polanski himself, no less) starts to dress in drag and trip out and basically go down the rabbit hole, the movie effectively reaches the point of no return. The slowness of the narrative is frustrating up to that point, but when it chooses to reward us with that nonsense, it becomes flat-out tedious. And then there's the ending. Oh god, the ending. As if it weren't enough to see Polanski in drag and makeup hurl himself through a third-story window, you get to see him -- bruised and bloodied -- crawl up the stairs and do it again. If this were a smarter film, I'd suspect some sort of tongue-in-cheek parody at work. But no. This is just fucking stupid. And to think this has the audacity to call itself a horror film. What a riot. The only thing that's scary is that it got made in the first place. The rest of it's just morbidly fascinating, like watching a trainwreck. You know it's awful, but somehow it's just impossible to look away.
Tenebre (Dario Argento, 1982) 57
There's a certain self-conscious ridiculousness surrounding this movie that I really got into. Whether or not Argento is actually taking himself seriously I don't know, but the film comes across as so completely campy and un-serious that it's hard not to find it just a little bit endearing. Plus, it has a bitchin' soundtrack that just screams 1982. So yeah: not great, but not terrible either. Fun. Unpretentious. Bloody. It's not scary in the slightest, of course, but I'm really not sure it's supposed to be. It's just, for all its murder and mayhem, a decent lightweight entertainment. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.
Terminator Salvation (McG, 2009) 59
It's a perfectly acceptable action flick. There's nothing especially great about it, but there's nothing especially terrible either. It's just an action flick. If you want to see kinetic fight scenes, things blowing up, and fast-paced car chases without any other pretenses, look no further. I guess I'm just kind of spoiled by the James Cameron films: Terminator 2 is among the best sci-fi/action movies ever made, and while it's ridiculous to expect Terminator Salvation to even come close to that film's greatness, it's still all too obvious what can be accomplished with these characters and this story if one tries hard enough. Still, it misses by a long shot being the trainwreck that T3 was, and -- like I said -- it's got some cool explosions and CGI stuff. Plus, part of it was filmed right across the street from my house. This doesn't change how good the film is, of course, but it kinda makes me like it just a little bit more. I'm shallow like that.
Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989) 45
I suppose calling this the Japanese Eraserhead wouldn't be too far off the mark. While there is some semblance of a coherent narrative, it really plays second-banana to the fact that the director just wants to fuck you up bad. But David Lynch is an extremely skilled director, and he's capable of making brilliant films from elements that would be insufferable in anyone else's hands. So whereas Eraserhead is fucked up and weird and disturbing, it clicks with me. It works. Tetsuo, on the other hand, never rises above just being a series of surreal, hyperkinetic grotesqueries. Technically, the film is brilliant: the editing is virtuoso, to say the least. But the thing is, you get it rather quickly. I'd say that by the 30-minute mark at the very latest, you've seen what there is to see. Even though the film itself is a very brief 63 minutes, it still feels like it just goes on and on and on. There's no doubt Shinya Tsukamoto made the film he wanted to make (the ultra-stylish final product glistens with a sort of rough-edged, demented perfectionism), and the film does have its avid cult followers, but I can't really count myself among them. I am glad I saw it. It satisfied my curiosities. But it's not the sort of thing I think I'd ever need to return to.
The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949) 76
The premise itself hasn't aged especially well, but the cinematography is the stuff of legends. Harry Lime has arguably the best character introduction scene in film history. Also: it's really hard to go wrong Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten. I mean, I'm just sayin', 'cause they were in that one other movie too.
This Is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner, 1984) 84
Eh, everyone's seen this. We all know how good it is. I don't think I need to say anything about it.
Time (Kim Ki-Duk, 2006) 76
A haunting and poignant film from South Korea, which -- at least in terms of what gets international distribution -- seems to be a powerhouse for haunting and poignant films. Upon further consideration and the inevitable second viewing, I may even raise that 76, because there are a lot of intriguing ideas here that are handled very, very well. The general idea runs thusly: a jealous woman, afraid her boyfriend may be getting bored and tired of her, has plastic surgery to completely alter her facial appearance. Then, as the "new" woman, she begins a relationship with the same boyfriend, who of course does not realize that she is the same woman. The film refuses to shy away from the difficult ethical and emotional ramifications of this, and the result is both unsettling and provocative. Ki-Duk (whose, well, haunting and poignant 2004 film 3-Iron is also well worth seeing) is, if anything, a master of subtlety: he plays the whole affair very low-key, develops his two main characters enough to make them utterly believable, and then places them smack-dab in the middle of a moral puzzle that, by nature, has no easy answer. It's not light entertainment, to be sure, but it's the sort of thing that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go. For that alone I admire it, but it also has something even deeper to say about love and human attraction, and the way it says these things makes it something of a triumph. It's definitely worth tracking down; I know I want to see it again very soon.
Tokyo Gore Police (Yoshihiro Nishimura, 2008) 34
I'm not the kind of guy who loses his shit just because something is Japanese. I don't get people who do. Our Japanese friends, colorful as their culture may be, are just as capable of making a bad film as anyone else. To be honest, you kinda know what you're getting yourself into with a title like Tokyo Gore Police. It's a splatterfest, and its main goal is to showcase as many gruesome mutilations as its 110-minute runtime will allow. And I get that. I'm cool with that. I'm one of the least squeamish people you'll ever meet, so that's not my problem with it. My problem with it is that it's just a bad film. I suppose the ooey-gooey blood and gore is effective in some exaggerated way, but it looks fake. It looks like movie gore. To add to that, the story (highly trained police killer wants revenge for her father's murder) is pretty pedestrian and uninvolving, which in itself wouldn't be too much of a burden if the heroine wasn't so damn uninteresting. It's impossible to connect with her, especially when she's really not that sympathetic (she bloodbathes some random dude who feels her up on the subway). To round it out, poor continuity editing makes this seem more like an extended trippy dream sequence than a coherent story. But oh well. It definitely has promise (I like the general idea quite a bit: futuristic Tokyo, privatized police force with extreme crime-fighting strategies, and so on), but it doesn't focus that promise in a way I find satisfying. Audiences that just want to see people get gored and mutilated and hacked up and bloodied in ridiculously graphic ways will probably get into it; I wanted a little more emotion and a stronger plot to justify it. Or maybe there's just some cosmic law that states that a sane and ethical person is only allowed, based on moral principles, to like one film of this ilk. I found that film when I watched Miike's Ichi the Killer (which is just as grotesque and graphic, but has a certain something that the Tokyo Gore Police Club lacks). So just watch that one instead, yes?
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
The one thing I don't understand about this film (or more specifically, I suppose, about the Irvine Welsh novel it's based on -- which I do own a copy of and I will read whenever I get a chance, i.e. summer) is what the hell the title means. Is it slang? Is there some implicit, symbolic meaning? Is it just a pleasant alternative to Junkies Gone Wild? If I ever meet Mr. Welsh, I'll have to ask him. Also, I didn't realize until this viewing that Welsh actually has a cameo, playing the dealer who gives Renton the suppositories at the beginning. But these are just details. The big picture remains the same: this is still a good, solid, entertaining movie. It's not a great one (if you want one of those, I urge you look no further than Boyle's recent Oscar winner), but for what it is I say it does quite well. You could definitely find much worse ways to spend an hour and a half.
U/V/W/X/Y/Z
Up (Pete Docter, 2009) 72
I'll start by saying what everyone else starts by saying: holy shit, Pixar is amazing. I mean, they've gotta have the most sterling track record of any production company in film history by now. But let's not get too overexcited and start calling Up their best film ever, as some have (Ratatouille? WALL-E? Finding Nemo?). It's an excellent achievement, to be sure, and it comes highly recommended from yours truly; I just don't think it stands up to the creme de la creme of Pixar's output. Which isn't to say there's not some fantastic stuff here: for better or for worse, the film's best moments come during its first few minutes. So beautiful and emotional is the (mostly dialogue-free) prologue that the rest of the movie can't quite stand up to it (if it had, then yes: masterpiece. But sadly ...), but it certainly puts out a fighting effort nonetheless. The finished product is yet another film destined to win countless fans for generations to come: a great, funny, cute story that is entertaining for all ages and actually comes with a well thought-out emotional valence as well. In other words, yeah. It's just what Pixar does.
The Vanishing (George Sluizer, 1988) 80
A potent and disturbing film that, for me at least, is far more unsettling than the average horror flick for the simple reason that it bypasses the irritating in-your-face tendency that characterizes many of the genre's entries and instead opts for a slow, deliberate pace that doesn't reveal its secrets all at once. To me, true horror comes not from being startled or presented with eerie elements of the supermatural, but with the implementation of frightening things that are utterly possible in everyday life; The Vanishing, especially with its two well developed main characters, is never anything less than believable. Although I gather I stand alone among the movie night crowd, I found it chilling and fascinating.
Versus (Ryûhei Kitamura, 2000) 59
I don't think words can accurately describe how ridiculous this film is. Is there anything this film doesn't have? It's a gun-wielding gangster samurai zombie movie set in a supernatural forest with immortals and reincarnated souls. Or something. Not that it matters. As fun as all this craziness is, though, the one thing I can't quite forgive it for is the small little flaw of making absolutely no goddamn sense whatsoever. I realize this isn't really the point, and that you're just supposed to watch it so you can see crazy shit happen and awesome fights and so forth, but think about how much better it would be if it had a story! It'd really be something! Oh well. I guess you can't have everything, and what the film does give is suitably badass if one is in the mood for this sort of thing. I can't deny that I was alternately amused and entertained for the film's entire duration (+20 WTF points for the scene where the crazy-haired guy just randomly hovers down from the sky), but at the end it still felt like there should have been more. Not that I wouldn't still recommend it to people. I probably would. It's that sort of thing. Hell, I'd even see it again. It's just ... what the fuck, just go watch it.
Waltz With Bashir (Ari Folman, 2008) 53
In general, if I dislike a film I'm inclined to lay the blame on the filmmaker a long time before I even think of indicting myself (and I'm sure 99.9% of all moviegoers share this sentiment). Waltz With Bashir is an interesting film in many ways, not the least of which is that it turns my previous statement upon itself. No, I did not like it, but for once I feel like I'm the responsible party and that the good-intentioned Ari Folman really had nothing to do with it. I think my lukewarm reaction stems from my inability to form any sort of emotional attachment to what was happening onscreen. War is never easy and maybe I've just become desensitized to it, because the images here are undeniably potent without ever actually striking a chord or plucking a heartstring. They're just ... there. I feel like I should be profoundly moved by the film's final few minutes, which jarringly switch away from a gorgeous dreamlike animation very reminiscent of Linklater's Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly to present live-action images of crying women wandering the streets of a crumbling city, but I just wasn't. Instead of seeming like a poignant concluding note, it felt anticlimactic. We never got to the bottom of Folman's eerie dream sequence, nor did we ever have a chance to warm up to any of the individuals he interviewed for his quasi-documentary. But am I missing the boat in expecting these things? Did I just not go into the film in the right mindset? I don't know. I wish I did, because it feels like it could be a really great film. Instead, I can't really regard it as anything more than an underdeveloped, if visually stunning and incredibly humanistic, curiosity.
Watchmen (Zack Snyder, 2009) FV: 64 / SV: 70
I think I may be just about the only teenage/college-age male in the known universe who did not enjoy Zack Snyder's previous effort, the dull and pointless CGI splatterfest 300; likewise, I have a special distate for both the Wachowski brothers' grim and misguided take on V for Vendetta (another unpopular stance, I gather) and the ludicriously awful Sean Connery vehicle The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (which I pray to god everyone hates). With both an unsureness of Snyder and a past history of seriously not-good Alan Moore adaptations, I naturally approached the film version of "graphic novel to beat all graphic novels" Watchmen with some trepidation. Imagine my relief when, after having watched it, it dawned on me that it not only didn't suck, but it was actually pretty okay. I wasn't head-over-heels in love with it, but that was all right. Contented, I spent a couple weeks being sure that "pretty okay" was more or less going to be my final verdict. As it turns out, much to my increased delight, this was not the case: a trip to Denver brought about a viewing in IMAX, and suddenly the film leaped from "pretty okay" to "quite good" (bigger is unquestionably better in a film that relies so heavily on visuals). I stand convinced now that a third viewing might even push the score higher. I'm still not gushingly in love with it (as many are), nor do I ever think I will be, but I can certainly accept that Snyder has taken on an unenviably difficult task and actually done pretty well by it. Only time will tell if this will go down as the "great art" some have proclaimed it to be (I'd certainly argue that it isn't), but for the time being it's an enjoyable popcorn flick. I'm happy with that. I mean, aren't you?
Where the Wild Things Are (Spike Jonze, 2009) 37
They managed to take one of the sweetest, most heartwarming children's books of all-time and turn it into something equal parts dreary, depressing, and tedious. Good job, guys. At least, thanks probably entirely to Jonze, it looks great, but that's about it.
The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky, 2008) 63
Honestly, if the credits (and hype) hadn't told me that Darren "Pull Out All the Stops and Then Some" Aronofsky directed this, I would've had no clue. Compared to films like Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, this thing hardly seems directed at ALL. It's very minimal, but that's good. It's what the film calls for. There's really not too much to say about it: born loser one-trick pony spends 105 minutes realizing he's a born loser one-trick pony and that, no matter what the stakes, he has to stand by that trick. There's your whole movie, right there. For what it is, it works. It's a bit thin, but then it doesn't try to do all that much. The Oscar Hype Machine is working overtime for Mickey Rourke, whose sure-to-be-nominated performance is definitely the reason to see the film (at the end of the day, though, I still greatly prefer Sean Penn's work in Milk and Frank Langella's lauded turn in Frost/Nixon). That, and -- genre differences aside -- it's still a hell of a lot better than The Fountain. Just sayin'.
Zebraman (Takashi Miike, 2004) 65
Typical Miike weirdness (if the words "typical" and "Miike" ever belong in the same sentence, which I don't think they do). If we're using, say, Audition or Ichi the Killer as a baseline, it's definitely one of his lighter films: self-consciously stupid and unapologetically campy, but also highly entertaining (as most Miike tends to be). Far from his best, but he's just such a bizarre director that I don't even really think I care how good or bad it is. I'm just glad to have seen it.
Zombieland (Ruben Flesicher, 2009) 84
It doesn't happen nearly often enough, but every once in a while a comedy comes along that just gets it right. Zombieland is that movie. Words can scarcely describe how good it is: it's delightful, fun, upbeat, and flat-out hilarious. The trailers made it look good; the actual film is clearly one of 2009's best.
I'll start by saying what everyone else starts by saying: holy shit, Pixar is amazing. I mean, they've gotta have the most sterling track record of any production company in film history by now. But let's not get too overexcited and start calling Up their best film ever, as some have (Ratatouille? WALL-E? Finding Nemo?). It's an excellent achievement, to be sure, and it comes highly recommended from yours truly; I just don't think it stands up to the creme de la creme of Pixar's output. Which isn't to say there's not some fantastic stuff here: for better or for worse, the film's best moments come during its first few minutes. So beautiful and emotional is the (mostly dialogue-free) prologue that the rest of the movie can't quite stand up to it (if it had, then yes: masterpiece. But sadly ...), but it certainly puts out a fighting effort nonetheless. The finished product is yet another film destined to win countless fans for generations to come: a great, funny, cute story that is entertaining for all ages and actually comes with a well thought-out emotional valence as well. In other words, yeah. It's just what Pixar does.
The Vanishing (George Sluizer, 1988) 80
A potent and disturbing film that, for me at least, is far more unsettling than the average horror flick for the simple reason that it bypasses the irritating in-your-face tendency that characterizes many of the genre's entries and instead opts for a slow, deliberate pace that doesn't reveal its secrets all at once. To me, true horror comes not from being startled or presented with eerie elements of the supermatural, but with the implementation of frightening things that are utterly possible in everyday life; The Vanishing, especially with its two well developed main characters, is never anything less than believable. Although I gather I stand alone among the movie night crowd, I found it chilling and fascinating.
Versus (Ryûhei Kitamura, 2000) 59
I don't think words can accurately describe how ridiculous this film is. Is there anything this film doesn't have? It's a gun-wielding gangster samurai zombie movie set in a supernatural forest with immortals and reincarnated souls. Or something. Not that it matters. As fun as all this craziness is, though, the one thing I can't quite forgive it for is the small little flaw of making absolutely no goddamn sense whatsoever. I realize this isn't really the point, and that you're just supposed to watch it so you can see crazy shit happen and awesome fights and so forth, but think about how much better it would be if it had a story! It'd really be something! Oh well. I guess you can't have everything, and what the film does give is suitably badass if one is in the mood for this sort of thing. I can't deny that I was alternately amused and entertained for the film's entire duration (+20 WTF points for the scene where the crazy-haired guy just randomly hovers down from the sky), but at the end it still felt like there should have been more. Not that I wouldn't still recommend it to people. I probably would. It's that sort of thing. Hell, I'd even see it again. It's just ... what the fuck, just go watch it.
Waltz With Bashir (Ari Folman, 2008) 53
In general, if I dislike a film I'm inclined to lay the blame on the filmmaker a long time before I even think of indicting myself (and I'm sure 99.9% of all moviegoers share this sentiment). Waltz With Bashir is an interesting film in many ways, not the least of which is that it turns my previous statement upon itself. No, I did not like it, but for once I feel like I'm the responsible party and that the good-intentioned Ari Folman really had nothing to do with it. I think my lukewarm reaction stems from my inability to form any sort of emotional attachment to what was happening onscreen. War is never easy and maybe I've just become desensitized to it, because the images here are undeniably potent without ever actually striking a chord or plucking a heartstring. They're just ... there. I feel like I should be profoundly moved by the film's final few minutes, which jarringly switch away from a gorgeous dreamlike animation very reminiscent of Linklater's Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly to present live-action images of crying women wandering the streets of a crumbling city, but I just wasn't. Instead of seeming like a poignant concluding note, it felt anticlimactic. We never got to the bottom of Folman's eerie dream sequence, nor did we ever have a chance to warm up to any of the individuals he interviewed for his quasi-documentary. But am I missing the boat in expecting these things? Did I just not go into the film in the right mindset? I don't know. I wish I did, because it feels like it could be a really great film. Instead, I can't really regard it as anything more than an underdeveloped, if visually stunning and incredibly humanistic, curiosity.
Watchmen (Zack Snyder, 2009) FV: 64 / SV: 70
I think I may be just about the only teenage/college-age male in the known universe who did not enjoy Zack Snyder's previous effort, the dull and pointless CGI splatterfest 300; likewise, I have a special distate for both the Wachowski brothers' grim and misguided take on V for Vendetta (another unpopular stance, I gather) and the ludicriously awful Sean Connery vehicle The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (which I pray to god everyone hates). With both an unsureness of Snyder and a past history of seriously not-good Alan Moore adaptations, I naturally approached the film version of "graphic novel to beat all graphic novels" Watchmen with some trepidation. Imagine my relief when, after having watched it, it dawned on me that it not only didn't suck, but it was actually pretty okay. I wasn't head-over-heels in love with it, but that was all right. Contented, I spent a couple weeks being sure that "pretty okay" was more or less going to be my final verdict. As it turns out, much to my increased delight, this was not the case: a trip to Denver brought about a viewing in IMAX, and suddenly the film leaped from "pretty okay" to "quite good" (bigger is unquestionably better in a film that relies so heavily on visuals). I stand convinced now that a third viewing might even push the score higher. I'm still not gushingly in love with it (as many are), nor do I ever think I will be, but I can certainly accept that Snyder has taken on an unenviably difficult task and actually done pretty well by it. Only time will tell if this will go down as the "great art" some have proclaimed it to be (I'd certainly argue that it isn't), but for the time being it's an enjoyable popcorn flick. I'm happy with that. I mean, aren't you?
Where the Wild Things Are (Spike Jonze, 2009) 37
They managed to take one of the sweetest, most heartwarming children's books of all-time and turn it into something equal parts dreary, depressing, and tedious. Good job, guys. At least, thanks probably entirely to Jonze, it looks great, but that's about it.
The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky, 2008) 63
Honestly, if the credits (and hype) hadn't told me that Darren "Pull Out All the Stops and Then Some" Aronofsky directed this, I would've had no clue. Compared to films like Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, this thing hardly seems directed at ALL. It's very minimal, but that's good. It's what the film calls for. There's really not too much to say about it: born loser one-trick pony spends 105 minutes realizing he's a born loser one-trick pony and that, no matter what the stakes, he has to stand by that trick. There's your whole movie, right there. For what it is, it works. It's a bit thin, but then it doesn't try to do all that much. The Oscar Hype Machine is working overtime for Mickey Rourke, whose sure-to-be-nominated performance is definitely the reason to see the film (at the end of the day, though, I still greatly prefer Sean Penn's work in Milk and Frank Langella's lauded turn in Frost/Nixon). That, and -- genre differences aside -- it's still a hell of a lot better than The Fountain. Just sayin'.
Zebraman (Takashi Miike, 2004) 65
Typical Miike weirdness (if the words "typical" and "Miike" ever belong in the same sentence, which I don't think they do). If we're using, say, Audition or Ichi the Killer as a baseline, it's definitely one of his lighter films: self-consciously stupid and unapologetically campy, but also highly entertaining (as most Miike tends to be). Far from his best, but he's just such a bizarre director that I don't even really think I care how good or bad it is. I'm just glad to have seen it.
Zombieland (Ruben Flesicher, 2009) 84
It doesn't happen nearly often enough, but every once in a while a comedy comes along that just gets it right. Zombieland is that movie. Words can scarcely describe how good it is: it's delightful, fun, upbeat, and flat-out hilarious. The trailers made it look good; the actual film is clearly one of 2009's best.
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