Cinematic Capsules: August 2012

Zoolander (2001)

Ben Stiller's fashion world farce is nothing more than a cameo-filled waste of time. Blame most of the failure on Stiller himself, who in addition to directing and starring in the picture, also co-wrote the cliché-addled screenplay. The usually-reliable Will Ferrell is only intermittently funny because he is given absolutely nothing to do. The one shining light is surprisingly Owen Wilson, who plays an up-and-coming rival of Stiller's with just the right amount of oblivious gusto. The film provides a few genuine moments of laughter but they are fleeting.

Overboard (1987)

An outlandish, crude, and surprisingly cruel picture from director Garry Marshall that is saved solely by the undeniable chemistry of stars Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. Hawn plays a rich and spoiled shrew living on a yacht who hires handyman Russell to remodel her closet. When she is unsatisfied with the work she fires Russell without compensation. That night she falls off the yacht and is taken to a nearby hospital where it is discovered she has amnesia. Russell takes her in as revenge, leading her to believe that they are married and that she is tasked with raising a household of four unruly boys. The romantic comedy hits all of the familiar beats and the ending is telegraphed from the very first scene, but it has its odd charms to it. However, it is still hard to stomach Russell's lying despite Hawn's previous cruelty, especially after he falls for her and they consummate the relationship. It all feels a bit too close to rape for me but maybe I'm over-thinking it.

Mildred Pierce (1945)

A very good lead performance from Joan Crawford is not enough to salvage this pedestrian production of a thoroughly mediocre screenplay. Crawford plays the titular character, a grass widow who waits tables and eventually opens her own business, all to provide every possession and opportunity to her pretentious, petulant daughter. The film opens with the murder of her second husband and the events preceding the killing are then told in flashback. Michael Curtiz's direction is fairly rote throughout with a few glaring technical flaws, an out-of-focus shot here, the distracting shadow of what appears to be a boom mic there. Due in part to the structure and some very poor supporting acting, the film's climactic twist is telegraphed from the very first reel, which leaves little room for surprises or excitement. Getting back on my high horse for a moment, it is also a sad state of affairs to see the portrayal of hard-working, entrepreneurial woman in the 1940s be completely undone by blind devotion to such a one-note villain.

Johnny Guitar (1954)

The Western with the greatest title of all time justifiably warrants such a decorous demarcation. Director Nicholas Ray's deft hand guides this intense tale of jealousy and mob rule with an assuredness that blazes onscreen. A hard-bitten, hard-scrabble, hard-working woman played by none other than Joan Crawford, sets up shop on the outskirts of a close-minded community, a town filled with people that want nothing more than to run her--and any other sign of progress--out of the country. The familiar gender roles of the archetypal Hollywood Western are completely thrown out the window here as the film depicts the bitter battle of two tough women that wholly consumes the lives of a town filled with meek men. The film can also be read as an allegorical tale of the Communist witch hunts but it is never once heavy-handed, it refuses to dip into proselytizing. The screenplay by the blacklisted Ben Maddow is a treasure, rife with tense exchanges and a plethora of memorable lines. A cavalcade of familiar Western mugs (including Ward Bond and Royal Dano) dot the supporting cast, while Sterling Hayden and his sonorous voice play the titular hero. But the film belongs utterly to Crawford, who runs the show much like her character Vienna runs the saloon and the broken-hearted lives of the men who love her.

Pickup on South Street (1953)

This raw and gritty noir from director Samuel Fuller sees a two-bit grifter (Richard Widmark) embroiled in some very serious Cold War danger when he inadvertently heists some microfilm meant for the Commies. Fuller and cinematographer Joseph McDonald pull off some incredible camera work here, repeatedly swooping in to a series of subtle and dramatic close-ups from a variety of off-kilter angles. Fuller's screenplay and direction depicts the criminal underworld and their no-nonsense approach to life with a deep understanding. The only thing that doesn't quite jive is pickpocket victim and unknowing Communist carrier, Jean Peters, falling so quickly for Widmark's straight talk and sleazy moves, but that's rather small potatoes. The best actor in the whole picture is Thelma Ritter, who plays a stool pigeon with her own moral code. Ritter imbues her tired, broken down character with a gentle heart and a quiet resignation. Her final appearance late in the picture is not only the best scene in the film, but one of the greatest in cinema history. It is the quietest moment in an otherwise knockabout film, punctuated with a splendid monologue on mortality. "I have to go on making a living, so I can die." 

Cinematic Capsules: July 2012

Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941)

The lone screwball comedy to be helmed by Alfred Hitchcock is not much more than a trifle for either genre fans or auterist critics. The film is about a harried husband and his shrew of a wife who discover that their three-year-old marriage is null and void due to a mix-up in zoning laws. Furious that he did not rectify the situation immediately, the wife kicks the husband out and quickly begins seeing other men. Meanwhile the husband pursues her with impassioned intensity (insanity?) in an effort to win her back. Capably made but only intermittently funny, Mr. and Mrs. Smith depends on its leads to get the goofy antics across and unfortunately it is only half successful. Robert Montgomery does a solid job of playing the husband. He can handle the wackier bits as well as play the straight man when required. However, Carole Lombard fizzles as the wife. She plays it all a bit too broadly, even for the genre to which she is known. This is only the second Lombard film I've seen, after Twentieth Century, my least favorite Howard Hawks film, and in both instances I found her performance to be shrill and unpleasant. Throughout Mr. and Mrs. Smith I was constantly asking myself why Montgomery would even want to reconcile this relationship. Lombard gives us no indication of her charms despite the fact that every man in the film swoons for her. Her emotional outbursts and erratic behavior are the hallmarks of a psychotic, not a lover.

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Even a second viewing on a scratchy print at a discount theatre cannot diminish the power of The Cabin in the Woods. It is still easily my favorite film of the last half year. Unfortunately, the film screened once in Texas at the ass pimple end of 2011 so it will not qualify for end-of-the-year accolades. Them's the breaks. Director Drew Goddard and producer Joss Whedon have co-written the horror film to end all horror films, while simultaneously deconstructing and taking the piss out of the entire genre at the same time. Five college kids head off for a pleasurable weekend retreat to the titular location but they quickly discover that nothing is at it seems. If I say anything more it will ruin the surprises of one of the most inventive, witty, gory, and hilariously freaky films I have ever seen. The cast is a real hoot as well, and it is great to see some Whedon regulars (Amy Acker! Tom Lenk!) sprinkled throughout. The Avengers may be raking in all of the dough and finally making Joss a household name, but The Cabin in the Woods is the purer, more idiosyncratic, and satisfying work. Grr Arrgh!

The Spirit of the Beehive (1973)

A ruminative exploration into the internal lives of a Castilian family in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, Victor Erice's The Spirit of the Beehive is a poetic piece of filmmaking superbly constructed. Every shot in the film is an expertly framed composition. A series of subtle dissolves are eminently effective. At the film's heart is a revelatory performance by the sad-eyed child Ana Torrent who plays the younger daughter, a girl obsessed with befriending the spirit of Frankenstein's monster after attending a screening of James Whale's 1931 film. The alternately compassionate, competitive and cruel interplay between Torrent and her sister (played by Isabel Telleria) is achingly real. The Spirit of the Beehive at times feels like Fanny and Alexander starring a prepubescent Celine and Julie. The film effortlessly achieves the oft-attempted but rarely successful feat of tapping into the quiet curiosity of childhood.


La Luna (2011)

Pixar's latest animated short, currently playing theatrically in front of Brave, is a resolute charmer. The adorable story of three generations of star sweepers out on their nightly shift features some of the most stunning images the famed studio has yet released. Director Enrico Casarosa tells the simple, fantastical tale with a deft touch. The film has an old world charm which coming from Pixar feels fresh and invigorating. The shorts division is responsible for the studio's most exciting work of late, specifically when they're working on original story lines and characters as opposed to the bland brand-reinforcements starring the Toy Story or Cars creations. With prequels and sequels becoming an increasingly large part of the company's slate, the recently announced Finding Nemo 2 being the most egregious of them all, the shorts are the place to see the creativity and wonder that defined Pixar.

Into the Abyss (2011)

It is staggering to think of Werner Herzog's far-flung travels over the last decade as he continues to pursue the ecstatic truth. From the Alaskan wilderness to centuries-sealed caves in France, from Buddhist ceremonies in India to Antarctic science stations, Herzog now journeys down to death row in small town Texas with his fascinating documentary, Into the Abyss. Herzog has never claimed to be objective in his documentaries and here his anti-execution stance is firmly defined at the outset. His presence as filmmaker and interrogator is felt in every scene as he inquisitively guides his interview subjects down a series of off-beaten paths. He once again shows us that he is the master of the long take, getting onscreen subjects to do or say the most outlandish, contradictory, or beautiful things. One leaves the film, which pivots deftly from harrowing to hilarious, not with images of grisly homicide or even a better understanding of the death row experience, but animals. Always animals. The moments that linger, tantalizing and tenacious, are anecdotes from preachers, prisoners, and wardens about squirrels, monkeys, and hummingbirds, all creatures unconcerned with the plight of us foolish humans.

Straw Dogs (1971)

A Peckinpah horror film. Dustin Hoffman plays a cultured egghead, basically the antithesis of a usual Peckinpah protagonist, who moves with his wife, played by Susan George, to the English countryside where they are soon harassed by local hooligans. The film charts Hoffman's attempts to remain rational and civilized in spite of the atrocities committed against him and his wife. Peckinpah's take paints Hoffman as an ineffectual coward, who cannot stand up to the bullying taunts and does not see the extent of the damage the villains are perpetrating upon him and in particular, his wife. A sense of dread permeates the film from the very first frame and it does not let up until the typically bloody finale. Despite the contemporary setting and the foreign country, the movie is a Peckinpah flick through and through, meaning it is at once depraved, nauseating, violent, challenging, and a true work of art. Straw Dogs is a fascinating, nightmarish statement about society that one wrestles with long after the credits roll.

Cinematic Capsules: June 2012

I'm stealing a device used by my mortal enemy Sean over at The End of Cinema blog. Each month I will be posting a compendium of capsule reviews for the films I saw over the course of the last thirty days (Disney features and films from the current year excepted). I will then be indexing the films on decade-by-decade pages for easier navigation further on down the line. One thing I will not be doing is retroactively ranking a year's new additions because that would drive me insane. It's the lightning round kids, did you bring your golf clubs?

Castle in the Sky (1986)

The lone Miyazaki film I had not yet seen is--as the rest--a sweeping tale full of chimerical imagination and gorgeous animation. The film follows a girl who is being pursued by an army and a band of pirates because she possesses a crystal that contains an energy source humans no longer no how to harness. She falls from an airship into the arms of a sweet boy looking for adventure. The two head off in search of the castle in the sky, a sort of Atlantis in the clouds, that was once home to an ancient race but has since fallen into ruin. The film combines many elements familiar to those of Miyazaki's oeuvre, there is a fascination with flight and aerial craft (Porco Rosso), an abiding reverence for nature (Princess Mononoke, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind), and a young female protagonist (all of the rest). Castle in the Sky doesn't quite live up to some of the masterpieces later in his career, in part because it feels just a tad too long, but second-tier Miyazaki is still some of the greatest cinema out there.


I'm A Cyborg But That's Okay (2006)

Park Chan-wook's follow-up to his revered vengeance trilogy, is the story of a girl who is convinced she is a robot and is institutionalized when she slits her wrists and inserts active wiring into her flesh. At the sanitarium she meets a bunch of patients with their own quirky brands of psychosis, including a boy who steals peoples' traits while wearing a bunny mask. The boy falls for the girl, who he longs to care for, in turn losing some of his psychosis along the way. The film is a tad overwhelming with all of the manic characters running about, but as the film slowly teases out hints of how all of these people came to be here, the girl's story most of all, it becomes something deeper and more rewarding. The budding romance between the two main characters is disarmingly sweet. Chan-wook's eye is as strong as ever, he practically overloads the frames with vibrant color and well-conceived action.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

My first official exposure to Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy and truly I only gave in for David Fincher (and that absolutely incredible teaser trailer). The brief plot outline for those living under a rock for the last couple of years, involves a disgraced journalist (Daniel Craig) who is offered the job of ostensibly writing the memoir of an aged industrialist (Christopher Plummer), when in fact he is investigating a decades-old murder. He is helped by the titular anti-heroine, played well by Rooney Mara, a tech-savvy, drug-addled, motorcycle punk with some serious issues. Because of all of the hype and hysteria surrounding the work I was expecting something all together more gruesome than what was delivered, maybe something more akin to a certain movie by the director of the aforementioned cyborg film. Admittedly the scenes of rape and torture were plenty brutal and stomach-turning, but I expected the film to be more relentless. Instead a lot of it is taken up with Craig looking at old pictures and talking to elderly nazis, while Mara types away on her MacBook. The investigative nature of the film immediately recalls Fincher's Zodiac, a more idiosyncratic and all together better film that leaves the viewer with a lot more to chew on. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is far from bad--in fact, it's good!-- but it feels less personal. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross once again contribute a stellar soundtrack, as they did for Fincher's The Social Network.

The Italian Job (1969)

Aptly summed up as the film where Benny Hill plays a computer wizard with an ass fetish, the original British version of The Italian Job is for the most part, a painful experience to watch. It is a woefully unfunny attempt at a comedic caper film that traffics in that special blend of tedious weirdness only Britain in the late sixties could produce. Michael Caine plays a career criminal who takes on an elaborate heist for his recently deceased friend. Noel Coward of all people plays a well-to-do, thoroughly British crime lord who oversees the plan from his regal perch in prison. The first hour is an absolute waste of time, with Caine bedding various birds while piecing together the elements for his theft of $4 million in gold being transported through Italy. The film is most remembered for its climactic car chase featuring a trio of colorful Mini Coopers, and the sequence is easily the most fun part of the picture, even though it is one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. Somehow the silliness that eludes the film for its first seventy minutes works here. Unfortunately the goofy getaway is not enough to salvage an otherwise worthless movie.

On Secret Sunshine

Never underestimate cinema. Just when I thought that I had finally seen it all, that every story had been told and that all I'm currently watching is pale recreations of former glories, along comes a film to refute me and soundly knock my clock off. True, there is nothing in Lee Chang-dong's Secret Sunshine that has not been explored before a thousand times over, but the brutally honest and wholly organic depiction of two very difficult human feelings - grief and disillusionment - sets the film apart.

In an absolutely astounding performance, for which she won the Best Actress award at the Cannes Film Festival, Jeon Do-yeon plays a widower who moves with her young son from the bustling metropolis of Seoul to her husband's hometown of Miryang to start a new life. It is not long before a new tragedy strikes and the film follows this woman's intensely harrowing journey through the stages of suffering. In one respect the film feels almost like something Lars von Trier would concoct, what with the amount of misery Do-yeon's Shin-ae is put through (and that we must sit through). Two-thirds of the film is set aside to show this woman's pain and suffering and yet not once are we ever detached or exhausted. From the first frame Jeon Do-yeon's performance draws us subtly and sublimely in and then refuses to let go.

There seems to be an interesting trend in South Korean cinema nowadays that focusses obsessively on the bonds of family. There is of course, Bong Joon-ho's aptly named Mother, as well as Lee Chang-dong's most recent film Poetry, which shares many similarities with Joon-ho's film. A case could even be made for Park Chan-wook's Oldboy but I leave that to your imagination because if I say anything more I could ruin everything. Everything. The strong familial relationships in these films seem all but nonexistent in contemporary American cinema which nowadays is content to use the easy shorthand of the dysfunctional family to pad out its films. What was the last great American film about family, mothers and sons? All I can think of is Ashley Judd or Liam Neeson kicking ass. Ho-hum.

Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life deftly depicts the compassion, frustration and jealousies of family in that elliptical, obsessively singular style he alone has mastered. Everyone I know who has a kid told me that I missed an essential element of that film because I myself have not experienced that most primal of bonds. I would assume then that anyone in that position should steer far clear of Secret Sunshine because they may never come back. Another similar quality of both The Tree of Life and Secret Sunshine is their deep desire to explore the limits of spirituality, although the films differ significantly in approach and come to almost opposite conclusions, that is if they come to any conclusions at all.

Shin-ae begins the film uninterested, if not completely dismissive of religion, brushing off her neighborhood pharmacist who tries pushing the good book on her to ease her mourning. Later when she hits rock bottom, she finally finds solace when visiting a nearby church, albeit a solace that is flimsy and ultimately fleeting. Shin-ae's ardent acceptance of faith and the ensuing journey religion provides her is one of the film's most thrilling explorations. Lee Chang-dong's script weaves through the tricky nature of faith from a detached but compassionate stance. He boldly takes us from agnosticism to fervent devotee and back again in a patient and understanding manner. That Shin-ae's suitor and guardian, the mechanic Jong Chan, remains with the church long after Shin-ae has moved on is not lost on the audience. We understand now how one could find happiness there.

This patience that Lee Chang-dong possesses, that allows the audience to pick up on the subtleties and complexities of the characters, their questions and passions, is truly what makes Secret Sunshine an unequivocal success. The considerate construction of the film, that focuses with such intensity on a grieving woman while still allowing time for explorations on the edges with a couple of secondary characters and their own journeys, is remarkable. And while the performances at the center of the aforementioned Mother and Poetry carry their respective pictures, Jeon Do-yeon goes deeper and wider, creating a character that despite the hardships and devastation, manages to live on to the end of the picture, and beyond.

My Top Ten Most Anticipated Films of 2012

Guess what?  The Dark Knight Rises is totally going to suck.  You know how I know?  My eyeballs and ear canals told me.  Between Anne Hathaway's clunky delivery of truly horrible dialogue in the trailer to the downright laughable six-minute mumblecore prologue attached to Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol, this one looks like a true turkey.  And what's up with that football scene?

Below is a list of ten tantalizing, thought-provoking cinematic spectacles due out sometime in the next 365 days, all of which look infinitely more interesting than Tom Hardy with a gas mask.  (As a brief aside, if you want some really good contemporary Batman, you should check out Scott Snyder's current run in DC Comics' New 52.  Now that's an interesting Dark Knight!  Bonus: you can understand what everyone's saying!)  You won't find many of the other big blockbuster names here and for that I apologize.  I'm not sure why, but what the hell, I love ya!  What do you say, let's boogie!


10. Untitled Terrence Malick Project

Do I really think that this film starring Ben Affleck as a man who returns to his hometown after the dissolution of his marriage, will be released anytime in the next decade?  No, not really, but we have to tell ourselves lies in order to get through each agonizing day.  A new Malick film is like a golden carrot of destiny guiding us forward through the eternal abyss of time.  I'm writing this list way too late at night.


9. Gangster Squad

So that guy that made Zombieland is apparently directing a film about the L.A.P.D.'s war against organized crime in the 1940s and 50s and he got Sean Penn, Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone, Josh Brolin and Nick Nolte to tag along.  That sounds like a pretty righteous idea.  Let's hope it cleanses Public Enemies from our collective consciousness.

8. Seven Psychopaths

Playwright Martin McDonagh reteams with his In Bruges star Colin Farrell for this, his second feature. The story of a screenwriter who winds up in a dognapping scheme sounds like just the right vehicle for McDonagh's trademark black comedy.  And with co-stars Sam Rockwell, Woody Harrelson, Mickey Rourke and Christopher Walken, the potential for shenanigans is at a fever pitch.

7. Wreck-It Ralph

Disney's newest animated feature is about a villain from a classic arcade game who longs to be a hero.  He attempts to do this by sneaking into a new fangled game and unleashing a vicious enemy in hopes of defeating it.  I'm not just plugging this just because I'm already vowing to watch it.  It actually sounds pretty interesting.   Plus, Ralph is voiced by John C. Reilly so you know it's going to be awesome.

6. Casa de mi Padre

Although I rarely find his films enjoyable on the whole, I think Will Ferrell is absolutely hilarious.  I especially like how he has used his fame as of late to do any weird, wacky thing that comes into his brain.  First there was the great appearance of ace reliever Rojo Johnson at a minor league baseball game, then came the Davenport, Iowa Milwaukee's Best commercials, and now comes this Spanish-language epic about two brothers trying to save their father's ranch from a drug lord.  Because, why the hell not?

5. Brave

If you couldn't tell by yesterday's list, Cars 2 really, really hurt.  I actually toyed with the idea of setting up an online campaign to raise funds to buy billboard space around Emeryville begging Pixar to stop making sequels.  Please Brave, prove me right by being original, heartfelt and incredible.  But nothing like the Incredibles.  We've already seen that movie.  Help me Brave, you're my only hope.

4. Lincoln

Steven Spielberg is back suckas and he's taking no prisoners.  His long-gestating tale about Abraham Lincoln navigating the Civil War is filming right now and looks like it should hit theatres right around Christmas.  The film stars Daniel Day-Lewis as the sixteenth president and is based on the work of Doris Kearns Goodwin.  She's a Red Sox fan but don't hold that against her.

3. Much Ado About Nothing

Joss Whedon's contemporary adaptation of the classic Shakespeare comedy was shot at his house during his vacation away from some other movie he directed.  Much Ado features a veritable rogue's gallery of just about every wonderful actor from many of Whedon's beloved television series.  Above all the film stars Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof as Beatrice and Benedick which means I can finally stop writing all of that Fred and Wesley Angel fan-fic.

2. Django Unchained

Quentin Tarantino describes his latest film as a "Southern", a Western set in the South about a slave, played by Jamie Foxx, who rises up and wreaks vengeance upon his oppressors.  With a stunning supporting cast headed by Leonardo DiCaprio as the plantation owner, Django Unchained sounds like a hell of a bloody good time. 

1. The Master

Paul Thomas Anderson returns to the big screen for the first time in five years with this thinly veiled story about the rise of Scientology starring Philip Seymour Hoffman as a man who comes home from war and decides to create his own religion.  It's going to be tough topping There Will Be Blood but this sounds like it's got a pretty great shot.

Boy, I can't wait to see how all of these movies let me down!

The Best Movies of 2011 (and all of the others too because what the hell)

Another godforsaken year gone and what do we have to show for it?  Nothing except wrinkles, regrets, some magic beans, and lists, lists, lists.  Below is one such list, detailing every film released theatrically in 2011 that I, for whatever drunken reason, deemed worthy of my precious time.  For your benefit I went ahead and ranked them all, from the films I hated with such profound passion that I cursed my very existence, to the ones I will realize I completely overpraised five years from now.  The top ten movies even get their own pithy commentary by yours truly.  They all must feel honored.  Lastly, keep in mind that I'm a stickler for rules, so any film that had a premiere earlier than 2011, even if it didn't make it to Seattle before the calendar year, is ineligible.  Therefore you won't be seeing such indie titles as Beginners and Meek's Cutoff (although to be honest, neither would have made my top ten regardless); or such foreign fare as Poetry and Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.

Without further ado, the cinematic year in review:

22. Cars 2
21. Drive
20. The Artist
19. The Muppets
18. Win Win
17. Source Code
16. Captain America: the First Avenger
15. Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey
14. Kill All Redneck Pricks: A Documentary about a Band Called Karp
13. Beats, Rhymes and Life: the Travels of A Tribe Called Quest
12. The Adventures of Tintin
11. The Future


10. Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

Having not seen any of the other entries in the Mission: Impossible series I must declare that my excitement for this fourth installment was riding on just one element: Brad Bird.  Animation genius behind the Iron Giant, the Incredibles, and one of my favorite films of all time, Ratatouille, Bird took on the fourth Mission film to prove that he was capable of handling a live action movie, emphasis on action.  And boy howdy, does it go off like gangbusters.  Bird's background in animation, where one must be a perfectionist with both framing and movement, pays huge dividends as we are thrust headlong into a bonanza of explosions and gunfire.  The two hour film is almost relentless with exhilaration, from the opening prison break to the Kremlin bombing to the hotel heist to the blind car chase to the nuclear launch, it is breathtakingly sure of itself.  Along the way we get just enough moments of goofy hilarity to relieve the tension and then its back out into the fray.  Ladies and gentlemen, Brad Bird, action hero.


9. Winnie the Pooh

Disney's comfortingly low-key return to the Hundred Acre Wood proves once and for all that you don't need pop culture references, celebrity voices, 3-D gimmickry or any other manner of foofarah to make an enjoyable family film.  The beautifully hand-drawn Winnie the Pooh is timeless; full of gentle, charming moments that should delight any filmgoer regardless of age.  It stands up well alongside its thirty-five-year old predecessor, the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.  Heck, the hallucinatory Backson sequence from this year's film may give the Heffalumps and Woozles a run for their money.  One of the great rewards stemming from Disney's purchase of Pixar Animation Studios came when Pixar head John Lasseter was given free rein of the Disney animation department.  He immediately ousted anyone who couldn't draw from the building and re-opened the hand-drawn division.  They have since released two gorgeous little films (the other being 2009's the Princess and the Frog) both of which are vastly superior to Pixar's 2011 output.  Here's hoping that they are allowed to make many more.


8. Moneyball

Like last year's the Social Network, Moneyball seemed like the least filmmable story on the face of the earth.  How does one translate Michael Lewis's phenomenal book about the rise of statistics-based management on the Oakland A's baseball team into something even remotely cinematic?  Ample credit is due screenwriters Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin (the latter also having penned the Social Network) for zippy dialogue that managed to present the science in an intelligent manner without it ever becoming tedious (unlike this sentence).  In fact, my only real qualms with the film are when it strived to be more conventional, shoehorning in a treacly father-daughter relationship that was utterly superfluous.  Thank Willie Mays (or whomever you pray to) that the film ended up in director Bennett Miller's hands after Steven Soderbergh (and his animated Bill James) left the project.  Miller's tasteful, restrained direction smartly kept the focus on the audacious tenacity of Brad Pitt's Billy Beane, never feeling the urge to resort to flashy spectacle.  

7. Rango

Unlike most mainstream films cranked out nowadays, children's films in particular, the delightfully oddball animated feature Rango doesn't feel like a film created by committee.  It has the distinct imprint of a personal, idiosyncratic vision.  Director Gore Verbinski's neo-Western about a sheltered chameleon (voiced winningly by Johnny Depp) who finds himself in a drought-stricken desert town, a place where he can start anew, inhabiting the persona of the hero he longs to be, is full of bizarre interactions with genuinely fresh characters.  The action set pieces are all staged beautifully, which is to be expected by the man that deftly helmed the first three over-the-top, rip-roaring Pirates of the Caribbean films.  The jokes are organic, not shoehorned-in pop culture references.  Sure, the plot and machinations are borrowed from every other Western under the sun, but in this style, with this perspective, it all feels like a loving homage, not a calculated move.  It all just feels right.  In a left field sort of way.


6. Bridesmaids

I am shocked by how much I enjoyed Bridesmaids.  Shocked, I say!  I didn't catch up with the film until about a week ago, having avoided it solely on the absolutely atrocious trailer I was subjected to prior to the film's release.  It looked like the most by-the-book, lowest-common-denominator, gross-out film to come through the pipeline.  Despite proclamations of critics and friends I wholeheartedly trust, I couldn't bring myself to sit through it.  Thankfully with six months' distance, my defenses were weakened enough to open up to this sweet, honest and emotionally mature film, that just so happens to traffic in equal amounts of diarrhea and vomit.  Kudos to Kristen Wiig, who co-wrote the film (with Annie Mumolo) and gives a fearless performance as a down-on-her-luck single woman who feels threatened less by her best friend's impending nuptials, than by the model of perfection who tries to usurp their lifelong friendship.  Wiig adeptly carries the emotional weight throughout, even when she's getting herself arrested for drunken shenanigans on a plane or punching a giant cookie.  Plus, as a true sign of the film's greatness there's nary a trace of Wiig's real-life husband, Bill Hader, anywhere!  I hate that guy!

5. Super 8

Critics like to try and tie a cinematic year together under a common theme or idea.  This allows everyone to put a nice ribbon on everything and go to sleep believing that there is a semblance of order to the universe.  Either that or they're just over-analyzing the trivial, as usual.  If I were to be fool enough to play such frivolous games, which I undoubtably am, I would unoriginally argue that 2011 was the Year of Adolescent Protagonists and Movies About Movies.  No film merged the two so completely than J.J. Abrams' Super 8, the most fun summer blockbuster I've seen since well, J.J. Abrams' Star Trek two years ago.  The film tells the endearing story of a group of gawky, geeky kids trying to get their homemade zombie film completed amidst the chaos and destruction brought to their hometown by the escape and subsequent hunt of an alien being.  A blatant but loving homage to the early work of Steven Spielberg, the film tapped into the collective past of a certain group of cinephile so precisely that it felt a bit like a comfort blanket.  But that's okay, I like staying warm, especially if the blanket is made with care.  What lifts Super 8 above the level of mere carbon copy and allows it to stand on its own is the honest portrayal of the lives and friendships of these kids which is due both to Abrams' assured writing and direction, and the uniformly winning performances of the cast.  I would be remiss if I didn't single out Elle Fanning because her portrayal of the new girl in the group is pitch-perfect.  Her transformation into a zombie before the eyes of pining protagonist Joe (played by Joel Courtney) might be my favorite single scene in any film this year.

4. War Horse

From J.J. Abrams aping Spielberg, we turn to Spielberg himself aping the works of John Ford with the majestic War Horse.  Spielberg's been rather quiet for the last several years, having only released the miserable Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in the last half decade, a textbook example of phoning it in, but thankfully he returned this year with not one, but two solid features.  While The Adventures of Tintin is an enjoyable--although uneven--genre exercise (infinitely better than Crystal Skull though), one cannot deny the high level of commitment on display in War Horse.  In this story about a boy and his horse, separated through hardship and turmoil, questing to return to one another, Spielberg is firing on all sentimental cylinders.  While not all of it works--the French reverie in the film's middle is a little too precious--one cannot help but be won over by the end of the picture.  The lyrical evocation of early twentieth century rural life is top notch, the scenes of battle are distinctive and harrowing, and the cinematography (by frequent Spielberg collaborator Janusz Kaminski) is stunning.  Most every performance is superb, not least of all that of the horse(s) that portray the titular character Joey.  I'm not quite sure how Spielberg was able to wring such emotional nuance out of a horse but I swear I could see fear, love and joy in its eyes.    

3. Midnight in Paris

Woody Allen's fantastical fable, Midnight in Paris, is a pure charmer from start to finish.  A conflicted American writer vacationing abroad with his fiance and her family, finds himself, at the stroke of midnight, transported back to the 1920s and the great intellectual scene then based in Paris.  Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein, and Salvador Dali all drink and carry on, critiquing one another's work and having the time of their lives until morning comes and the world rights itself.  Admittedly I am a born sucker for the 1920s time period so I was hooked the moment that magical cab appeared and whisked Owen Wilson away.  As always there's a backlash brewing, calling the film flimsy, the supporting characters one-dimensional, and the lessons learned trite.  Yes, yes, and yes, but that doesn't matter at all because that's not what this film is about.  Midnight in Paris is Cinderella, it's Sleeping Beauty, a fairytale, nothing more, nothing less.  Rachel McAdams's shrill harpy of a fiance is nothing but a wicked stepsister deposited in a luxury hotel suite.  We're not supposed to care about her, she's simply a plot point.  And despite the lack of complexity in the realization that the grass will always be greener, I enjoyed the fact that the movie lets you have your cake and eat it too. We are reminded that the 1920s and every other period in the history of the world seems unsatisfactory to those living in it, but they're still great places to visit.  Especially when they're portrayed so beautifully as in Midnight in Paris.

2. Hugo

Is there a more consistently invigorating filmmaker out there than Martin Scorsese?  Most often my initial memory of seeing a new Scorsese picture is the buoyant feeling I have while walking out of the theatre, my mind racing with excitement, close to the speed of Scorsese's trademark verbosity.  The closest auteur I can think of that exudes such a passion for the art form of film is Quentin Tarantino, but even his adoration of cinema must go through the transcendent trajectory of Scorsese.  Scorsese's entire career has been a proselytizing paean to the magical powers of cinema and if--heaven forbid--he were to suddenly cease making films, I can think of no more perfect a send-off than Hugo, his absolutely gorgeous, glorious, magnificent love letter to early cinema.

Based on the acclaimed children's book The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, Hugo follows the titular character (played by the wonderful Asa Butterfield) an orphan living in the clockwork of a French train station.  Over the course of the film he tries to rebuild an automaton and discover the historical mystery of George Melies, pioneer of early cinema, now beaten down and working in the train station toy shop.  Ben Kingsley's deft portrayal of Melies carries the picture, as he transforms from a heartbreakingly defeated man to a genius reborn.

There has been a lot of ballyhoo made this year about the Artist, the French-produced silent throwback that has audiences swooning for its magical return to the early days of cinema.  Unfortunately there is nothing beneath the film's black-and-white facade but a barrel of snake oil.  It is all trick, no magic.  There is neither substance nor wit under the film's artificial veneer.  It doesn't even feel like a silent film.  With its infinite charms, Hugo manages to transport us much more successfully to a bygone time and place, evoking such an honest and heartfelt recreation of cinema past, despite its 21st-century technology.  The Artist is littered with allusions to classic films but with no apparent rhyme, reason or skill.  Hugo on the other hand, spends ample time showing the actual recreation of older films, and the enthusiasm and affection for the cinema's forefathers permeates every single frame.  Editor Thelma Schoonmaker's tour-de-force of a silent film homage contained in Hugo has more verve in its half minute of screen time than the entirety of the Artist.  Hugo will be the film we return to decades down the line when the artifice of the Artist has been fully swept into the dustbin of history.

1. The Tree of Life

I am so predictable.  While I think it's a stretch to say a work of art changed my life, I can think of no film that has had a more lasting impact on my person than Terrence Malick's fifth feature.  Not just this year, any year.  Having waited impatiently for a long, long time (as the Tree of Life's release date was rescheduled time and again) I feared that the fever pitch of my anticipation would be nothing but detrimental to my viewing experience.  Fortunately there is no artist working today that can so completely bypass our expectations and give us something so grand, majestic and unwieldy, that we could never have hoped to contain it with our puny imaginations, than Malick.  After my first viewing, the Tree of Life clung to me for weeks on end.  I woke up with it for days and it acted as a prism for which to see my actions, life and relationships.  The film hung over most every thought or conversation.  That sounds melodramatic and cheesy, which is probably how the plot of the film sounds to most people, but like the film, I am being unabashedly sincere.

It is this relentless sincerity and purity of vision that really propels Malick's work into the stratosphere.  Really, how could any other film released this year top Tree of Life?  None of the other admittedly fine films on this list had half the ambition and audacity of this epic, that sets its wide eyed gaze on the potentially small story of a mid-century childhood in Texas and somehow manages to consume the creation of the universe in the process.  There were also dinosaurs and they were awesome.

The performances in the film are uniformly fantastic.  Jessica Chastain plays the matriarch less like a mother and more like an angel.  Brad Pitt gives the most mature performance of his career as a fierce, determined, but woefully flawed father trying to navigate an uncertain world and instill ethics and purpose in his children.  Many saw the parents as a simple dichotomy of good and evil, but it is far more nuanced than that.  The kids run to their mother for protection but she is completely ineffectual; while the father is the most complex and fascinating character in the whole movie.  But it is Hunter McCracken's portrayal of the young Jack, our protagonist, that carries the film.  This kid is so natural, so unflinchingly real, that I hope to never see him again in another movie because I don't want to believe he is not Jack all of the time.  He's that good.

The Tree of Life felt so real to me, as if it were my childhood being displayed onscreen, or better yet that of my father, who grew up in the midwest in the same time period.  My thoughts continually returned to my dad throughout the film and then on back to his father and their relationship.  It made me reflect on my mother, this time in a light I was unaccustomed to, or maybe I had just neglected.  It made me think about family and the bonds and connections that are so intwined with our DNA that we cannot even articulate them.  They're just there.

In the final sequence of the film the adult Jack (Sean Penn) envisions a reunion in the afterlife between himself, his long-dead brother, father, and the rest of his family.   They walk along a beach, wordless but completely understood.  An arm on a shoulder is the only reassurance we need.  This emotional reverie allows Jack to finally find a modicum of grace, the longed-for quality his beautiful mother exuded that has heretofore eluded him.  He returns from his metaphorical heaven, literally descending from his austere downtown high rise, and then out the door and back into civilization.

Then a bird flies by and you just weep.

Where's the Love? A Kelly Reichardt Retrospective

I really want to like Kelly Reichardt, I really do.  I just recently caught up with her third feature, the minimalist Western, Meek's Cutoff, a film that received a significant amount of critical praise upon release, and one that I had been very excited about.  Unfortunately, as the feature folded into credits I was left with disappointment.  I was nothing but deflated.  There were elements within the preceding ninety minutes that tantalized me, teasing my brain with excitement.  But to my chagrin, nary a thread I followed, whether stylistically or dramatically, paid off.

Don't get me wrong, Ms. Reichardt has talent.  She is most definitely an artist with a distinctive style, stark that it may be.  I believe I could spot her work in a line-up.  She is most certainly not a hack.  Unfortunately her cinematic potential has not yet been sustained to the point of creating a significant and wholly satisfying work.  I see it throughout her three features in fleeting fits and starts and this excitement compels me to continue seeking out her efforts, despite my prior frustrations.

I actually quite like Old Joy, which tells a quiet, simple story of friends who grew apart long ago, tentatively dancing around one another again before going their separate ways.  The film is told in a low-key manner that pulls you into its world, allowing you to sit side by side with her characters and their awkward reunion.  It is easily Ms. Reichardt's most satisfying work.  Wendy and Lucy had similar attributes and I found the filmmaking to be accomplished but the movie's failing came with the story itself.  We are shown a deep and loving bond between the two titular characters and the emotional devastation that is wrought when they are separated.  The plight of the movie is the quest for reunion.  It is the only thing that matters.  That is until they do reunite and decide its just best to leave one another again.  The plot deals with themes explored in Old Joy except that Wendy and Lucy do need one another and are not complete as individuals.  Basically dogs are more important than friends.  You don't leave them with strangers to go to Alaska indefinitely.  It's just stupid.

From Meek's meager beginnings (more on that in a moment), I was more entranced with the film's style than the substance.  She's shooting in 1:33, I thought.  That's awesome!  But why?  And why am I more concerned with her sense of framing than her characters?  Because in this film her characters are all but non-existent.  I actually think that is a major step backward from both Old Joy and Wendy and Lucy.  In both previous films, we got a definite grasp of who these people (and dogs) are and what their motivations were.  We get very little to latch onto in Meek's Cutoff, save Michelle Williams's pioneer and her burgeoning feminism.  One character is pregnant but I didn't notice until the last couple of minutes of the movie.  Was it a big reveal, supposed to heighten the drama of the denouement?  Nope, she just wasn't framed from the waist down earlier.  Knowing this earlier in the film would have differentiated her from her bonneted brethren but instead she's just there, somewhere.  The only other character we get a bead on is Meek himself, played far too broadly by Bruce Greenwood, who is nothing more than an idiot and a nuisance to the proceedings.  His character goes through no emotional arc and is the same oaf at the end of the tale as he is at the onset.  He learns nothing.  One aspect the film wants us to question is whether he is evil or just misguided, but we never care because as my astute girlfriend put it, this guy would never survive in the West.  He would be swallowed whole.

The film starts with Meek already guiding the emigrants westward.  We are never shown their initial meeting, the pioneers' desperation, or how Meek sold them on the idea of him being their guide.  Its really no beginning at all.  We are just thrown in together with this faceless, mumbling bunch.  And we tag along as this faceless, mumbling bunch pick up a lone Indian who has been tracking them for a spell.  The argument between the settlers on whether to kill the Indian or supplant Meek with his guidance is a major dramatic point within the film.  They eventually throw their lot in with the Indian, while Meek tags along repeatedly warning them of their folly.  Was the decision for the best?  We'll never know because the Indian walks away and whoops, here are the credits!  Damn, no beginning and no end?  This movie is all middle!  I'm open, even invigorated, by the prospect of blowing off dramatic structure and creating new, unseen forms but to do so there needs to be something to guide us, the audience, and it better be more engaging than that blowhard Mr. Meek.

At first I thought the crucial element missing from Reichardt's work was humor, but I realized that there are dozens of filmmakers I revere who betray not an ounce of humor, Terrence Malick for one.  No, we don't need humor but we do need joy.  And this is what Reichardt patently lacks, despite including the word in the title of her first film.  Just the hint of happiness or transcendence would give us all something to cling to when Michelle Williams's pretty face is offscreen.  Instead we see static.  Well-composed, truly independent static, but static nonetheless.