The Best Films of the Decade

The 2010s of cinema are about to finish. The omnipresence of Marvel and the evolution of home video are not the only thing audiences should remember about this interesting decade in film. Forget not that this decade was also the decade that gave us The Human Centipede.

In the grand scheme of things, perhaps not many positive things will be said about this decade. Historians may remember it for the transformation of white supremacy, the end of privacy, and democracy under attack. But I think at least one promising piece of news from this rather bleak decade has been the fact that Hollywood, thanks largely to protest (and box office returns), has become a far more diverse place. The #OscarsSoWhite outrage of 2015 led at least in some way to the profound success of films like Moonlight, Black Panther, and Get Out. In 2017, the top-grossing movies of the year were those led by female protagonists (Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Beauty and the Beast, and Wonder Woman). There has been an "explosion of queer content" this past decade, as well. Hollywood and the Academy have a long, long way to go on these issues of representation, but there have been some significant steps in the right direction.

And sure, Hollywood has had problems with originality and nostalgia this past decade. We are in Peak TV, not Peak Movies. It shows. Whether or not this problem continues or is resolved heading into the next decade is something we will have to wait and see. If we can put aside those issues, it's worth remembering some of the most exceptional films of the past ten years.

The best films of the decade, in no particular order are:

Moonrise Kingdom
The past decade saw some of director Wes Anderson's most renowned work: Isle of Dogs, The Grand Budapest Hotel, and Moonrise Kingdom, his best. Moonrise Kingdom is quintessential Anderson, so if his other films haven't exactly been your cup of tea, definitely stay away from this one. It is the archetypal Anderson film because, in addition to that unique color palate and the terrific score by Alexandre Desplat, there is a lot of quirkiness in the acting, namely in the performances of Bruce Willis as a local police chief, Edward Norton as a Scout Master, and Bill Murray and Frances McDormand as the parents of a young girl (Kara Hayward) who is rebellious and runs away with her crush (Jared Gilman). It is the first film of both Hayward and Gilman, who do an outstanding job depicting the young love of these two teenagers. And if you have any experience with Scouting, especially memories of people who take Scouting a little too seriously, this is a must-see.

The Salesman
Iranian writer and director Asghar Farhadi had a remarkable decade, as two of his films (this and the 2011 film A Separation) won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, although he did not attend the Oscars to accept the award for The Salesman to protest the U.S.'s travel ban. This film, like his others, is deeply concerned with the modern difficulties and complexities of the real world, especially when good people do bad things. The main character related to this is Emad, who is played by Shahab Hosseini (who also worked with Farhadi in About Elly and A Separation and who won the Cannes Film Festival award for Best Actor). Emad is a teacher, but he and his wife, Rana (Taraneh Alidoosti) are also actors preparing for a local production of Death of a Salesman. One night while Emad is away, Rana is attacked in their new apartment. Emad and Rana are both ashamed and both start to lose sleep in the aftermath. Rana becomes almost paralyzed, and Emad becomes obsessed with finding the attacker. The Salesman is not a thriller, but it feels like it has that DNA. Unlike many films these days, Farhadi's scenes can say a lot more with several tense moments of silence than a thousand CGI battle cries can.

12 Years a Slave
12 Years a Slave, directed by Steve McQueen, is perhaps the most powerful and disturbing film of the past decade. American film directors have tackled the subject of slavery in the United States before, but not quite like this. Perhaps, as co-star and producer Brad Pitt put it, "it took a Brit" to tell this story so profoundly. Based on the memoir of Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), whose story was nearly lost to history, the film adaptation, in just two hours and fourteen minutes, wipes away the Lost Cause propaganda of The Birth of a Nation and Gone With the Wind. Solomon was a renowned musician who was kidnapped and sold into slavery. For twelve years, he fought to survive, but that (at least in the beginning) was not his primary motivation. "I don't want to survive," he tells other slaves. "I want to live." Ejiofor, who was nominated for Best Actor, is joined by a stellar cast that includes Lupita Nyong'o, Michael Fassbender, Paul Dano, Sarah Paulson, Benedict Cumberbatch, and others. 12 Years a Slave is not an easy film to watch, but it is a necessary one, especially because there are still some people in this society who sugarcoat the reality of what this nation did.

Mother
I'm cheating a little bit because this movie was released in 2009 in Korea but 2010 in the U.S. Director Bong Joon-ho started the decade at his peak with this thriller, and then apparently peaked again at the end of the decade with the much-acclaimed Parasite, which has found its way on many top-ten lists of this year. Of his actors, while it's a bit awkward watching Won Bin as a person with a disability, Kim Hye-ja is superb as his doting mother. When her son is accused of murdering a teenager girl in their small town, she does anything to prove his innocence. She does this despite earning minimal income selling traditional herbal medicine and practicing acupuncture without a license. But as a character, she is given more agency as she becomes more determined (and more malicious). In addition to getting great performances from his actors, Bong's directing skills are exceptional. The tiptoe scene is so simple yet so tense. Plus, the film starts and ends with a notable theme by Lee Byung-woo. Mother is one of the great cinematic murder mysteries of all time.

Black Swan
Black Swan, the psychological horror/thriller directed by Darren Aronofsky, features what is likely Natalie Portman's single best performance as Nina Sayers, a perfectionist ballerina recently cast as the Swan Queen and going through a psychological crisis. Also starring in the film are Mila Kunis as the woman Nina considers her rival and enemy, Barbara Hershey as Nina's overbearing mother, Winona Ryder as Nina's thrown-away predecessor, and Vincent Cassel as a very pre-MeToo bully and jerk of a director. (Incidentally, I'm disappointed in myself that when I wrote my original review nine years ago, I focused on the bad dialogue I thought the character was given and not of what a disgusting scoundrel he is.) It's not the scariest film of the decade (that would be last year's Hereditary), but its creepiness involving finger nails and toe nails will likely stay with you. Black Swan is a campy yet exciting time.

Wadjda
Wadjda was promoted as the first feature film shot entirely in Saudi Arabia, an ultraconservative Islamic state where it has only been in the past few years in which women have been given the right to drive and cinemas have been re-introduced. The story is about a women girl named Wadjda (Waad Mohammed) whose primarily ambition is to buy a bicycle. Her mother (Reem Abdullah) is supportive of Wadja, but not to the point of earning the scorn of society, especially as she is worried about her husband gaining a new wife. Wadjda's main antagonist is the authoritarian school principal, Ms. Hussa (Ahd Kamel), who runs the girls school with an iron fist. The film, written and directed by Haifaa al-Mansour in her feature film debut, pokes at the Saudi establishment and orthodoxy but is careful not to rock the boat too much. (To avoid publicly mixing with the male crew members on the streets of Riyadh, she often directed scenes with a walkie talkie in a van, as Saudi Arabia has strict rules on gender segregation.) Thus, the film is undoubtedly critical, though not as much as some in the West probably would have wanted. Because of this, it avoids Hollywood cliches and instead is a rather humanist and honest piece of filmmaking. Its star, young Waad Mohammed, is a non-actor, much like the young boy in Bicycle Thieves, which clearly serves as an influence. Wadja is as remarkable as it is groundbreaking.

Inside Out
Nobody doubts Pixar Studio's ability to make astonishing art. That being said, other than Coco, most of what Pixar gave us throughout the past decade was simply sequel after sequel. Inside Out, however, really is an astounding work of psychology-inspired fiction. In it, a young girl's emotional state is navigated by Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Disgust (Mindy Kaling), and Anger (Lewis Black), all of whom are appropriately cast. The girl whose brain they're inside, Riley (Kaitlyn Dias), is a pre-teen going through a rough time as her family moves from Minnesota to California. While being a rather powerful emotional trip, it is also quite funny, namely the dream sequence, the recurring gum commercial song, and the moments when we get to see the emotions of the parents. And the colors in this film are unlike practically any other animated film I can think of. Like many Pixar films, a lot of the ideas and jokes will fly over young children's heads, but the core message of the film, namely that sadness can be just as essential as joy, will not be lost on them.

Room
Adapted from the novel of the same name by Emma Donoghue (who also wrote the screenplay) and directed by Lenny Abrahamson, Room is a powerful tale of a woman named Joy (Brie Larson) being held captive by her rapist in a shed. She is trying the best she can to raise her five-year-old son Jack (Jacob Tremblay) and keep him as active and healthy as possible, despite all the obvious obstacles. Arguments that naturally happen between a mother and child are only made more frequent and worse in such conditions. This film has fantastic performances, namely from its two stars, Tremblay and Larson. I put Tremblay first because he's basically the main star of the film; in fact, he appears in it more than Larson does. Larson was rewarded handsomely (and deservedly so) with an Oscar for her work, but because the Academy is the Academy, Tremblay was not even nominated that year (though he did win other awards like the Critics' Choice Award). Some of the moments in this film are heartbreaking and some are heart pounding, and it is an absolutely unforgettable work.

The Florida Project
Described by writer and director Sean Baker as a modern-day "Our Gang" set in modern economic harshness, this is a powerful and moving film about children in difficult times. Taika Waititi recently claimed (rather smugly) that he didn't want "American" acting among the performances for the children in his film Jojo Rabbit. Fair enough; there are numerous examples of bad acting among young actors in American films. The Florida Project is undeniably not one of them. The performances of Brooklyn Prince, Valeria Cotto, and Christopher Rivera as the three main children in this community of residents living out of cheap motels outside the powerhouse of Walt Disney's fantasy are among the three best of the entire decade. This is a film about kids being kids, for better or worse, while their parents struggle to make ends meet. The main adult (if that is the right word) is Hailey, played by Bria Vinaite, whom Baker discovered on Instagram. She is in over her head, and while it is easy to empathize with her because the deck is stacked hugely against her, it is also quite difficult to sympathize with her, as she continuously makes one bad decision after another, usually erupting in a violent temper. Her father figure (and that of the children) is Bobby, the hotel manager played by Willem Dafoe, whose performance is so great that his losing the Oscar that year will go down as one of the biggest mistakes the Academy has ever made. The struggles these characters all go through can tell you more about economic struggles in the U.S. these days that practically any other film, and there are not many endings as heartbreaking or unexpected as this one.

Life Itself

When I was a child, I had no idea who Siskel and Ebert were. I did, however, know that if a film's previews claimed "Siskel and Ebert give it two thumbs up," it must have been worth seeing. There has never been a film critic quite like Roger Ebert, and there never will be another one. Few could debate like he could, and none could write like he could. His prose was certainly worthy of that Pulitzer he famously won in 1975, but it was neither dumbed down nor overly lofty. All that is evident in this documentary. It centers on the three major loves of Ebert's life: Gene Siskel, movies, and Chaz, his wife. The most interesting scenes in the film usually are the ones detailing the sometimes explosive relationship between Ebert and his film partner, Siskel. James, whose 1994 documentary Hoop Dreams was massively lauded by the duo, includes those famous outtakes of the two nearly at each others' throats while taping a promo. "It's 'And the Moves!" Ebert scolds after Siskel messes up. When it's time to do it again, Siskel says, "That's this week on Siskel...and Ebert...and the movies...and the asshole, and that's Roger!" But the most moving scenes are the ones featuring Chaz; she's a talented raconteur. With regards to James' directing, there's nothing particularly noteworthy about it, I guess. It doesn't have a bold premise like This Is Not a Film or innovative animation like Life, Animated; it doesn't feel like an epic history of a complex issue like O.J.: Made in America. But his ability to capture such poignancy is unlike just about any other documentarian these days, and Life Itself is probably the best proof we have of this.

Honorable Mentions: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, Hereditary, Rogue One, Mary Poppins Returns, Monsieur Lazhar, Won't You Be My Neighbor?, Little Women

Read More →

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

All things must end, even a mega-successful film series that started forty-two years ago. The sci-fi powerhouse that has produced about a dozen on-screen films, several television shows, and countless other novels and games is finally coming to an end (sort of). The Rise of Skywalker is the ninth and final episode of the so-called "Skywalker Saga" of Star Wars that detailed Luke Skywalker and friends defeating the Empire in the original trilogy, Anakin Skywalker being corrupted by the Dark Side and becoming Darth Vader in the prequel trilogy, and now Rey and friends fighting the First Order in this sequel trilogy. Directed and co-written by J.J. Abrams, who directed The Force Awakens as well, it is not as bad as most critics have claimed, but it also feels like, despite a successful payoff in the film's final act, there are a lot of dull movements one is required to sit through to get there.

This one is a bit more convoluted than its two predecessors. "The dead speak!" the film proclaims. Palpatine, the emperor of the Galactic Empire who first appeared in Return of the Jedi and whose rise to power was chronicled in the prequel trilogy, apparently is still alive despite being thrown off a bridge by Darth Vader. Palpatine is again played by Ian McDiarmid. To prevent this mysterious return of the Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) searches the galaxy to find Palpatine and eliminate the threat to his power. At the same time, Rey (Daisy Ridley, the star of this trilogy) continues her Jedi training under General Leia Organa (the late, great Carrie Fisher in her final role), who hopes to conclude what her brother Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) started. When the Resistance finds out that Palpatine has returned, they too seek him out to destroy him once and for all. So Rey takes a hiatus from her training to join Finn (John Boyega) and Poe (Oscar Isaac), along with Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), C-3PO (Anthony Daniels, the only actor appearing in all nine episodes), and BB-8 (the most adorable Star Wars character until Baby Yoda took that over this year) to find the location of Palpatine while avoid being hunted by Ren and his knights.

Joining the cast are Keri Russell (who worked with Abrams on Felicity) as Zorii Bliss, an old acquaintance of Poe's; Dominic Monaghan (who worked with Abrams on Lost) as a Resistance fighter named Beaumont Kin; and Naomie Ackie as Jannah, a former Stormtrooper who now fights against the First Order. But the biggest return besides McDiarmid is Billy Dee Williams as Lando Calrissian, who (despite appearing several times as the character through voice work) has not appeared on screen as his most famous role since 1983's Return of the Jedi. Also returning from previous films are Lupita Nyong'o, Kelly Marie Tran, and others. But while the cast can seem a bit overcrowded, it is a joy to watch the delectable performance of Richard E. Grant as Allegiant General Pryde, a loyalist who is suspicious of General Hux (the returning Domhnall Gleeson), at ease following the orders of the Supreme Leader, and ever faithful to Emperor Palpatine. It's a role that might not be as complex or interesting as Grant's previous work in films like Can You Ever Forgive Me? (which earned him an Oscar nomination earlier this year) or Withnail and I, but it's one of the most enjoyable on the screen; he looks like he's relishing every moment.

I do, though, wish the film had given Russell, Nyong'o, Tran, and Ackie something as interesting to do as it had for Grant. Tran, the victim of vicious attacks from trolls after The Last Jedi was released, does not have a major presence in this film. Co-writer Chris Terrio has defended this by explaining that some of the problems with making her scenes look believable with Fisher and the CGI were why they were cut. Audience members can make of that what they will. Some will undoubtedly not believe Terrio and conclude that the trolls have won.

Let me try to be as clear as I can: I liked The Rise of Skywalker. I found that it has some noticeable problems (more on that later), but I wouldn't call it a bad film. I appreciated that we finally get to see Rey, Finn, and Poe all together in a way we used to see Luke, Leia, and Han. I like that C-3PO is utilized more. And while it can drag, it does not do so in a way that feels too taxing. It does not drip with unfeasible visuals like the prequel trilogy did, but it does not possess those unforgettable moments of The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, or the standalone film Rogue One. As a result, it can sometimes (or often) feel like a bit of a bore. It is the only time I can remember looking at my watch during a Star Wars film.

Just as the two previous films fell into the trap of copying various moments and emotions of the original trilogy, so too does The Rise of Skywalker. It is great seeing McDiarmid again in his most famous role, and it's not necessarily a bad (if implausible) idea bringing back this character one more time. But unlike in the prequel trilogy, where the actor was given a variety of moments to really shine, with this film it does not feel that way. Sure, the character looks and feels different, more like a ghoul than an emperor, but it's not enough to justify his presence. And while at times The Rise of Skywalker is surprisingly quite unpredictable, it also keeps hitting the same notes one would expect. By this point in the trilogy, it seems many fans and nearly a majority of film critics have had enough. I don't blame them, and perhaps it's best that Disney and Lucasfilm have decided to put a pause (hopefully a permanent one) on the films and instead focus on television.

One thing though that the team does seem to succeed in is finding a way to conclude such a grand, multi-generation story arc in a way that is sure to satisfy many fans. Kathleen Kennedy, the producer and president of Lucasfilms, has not been given nearly enough credit for this. Sure, there have been bumps along the way (Solo), but just look at the success of this trilogy and of the new Disney+ show The Mandalorian. Yes, critical response to The Rise of Skywalker has been so-so or negative, but again, many fans will come away likely enjoying this film. As I left the theater, I overheard a young boy talking with a man I assume was his grandfather. The boy asked the man if it was his most favorite film. Politely dodging, he responded that he really enjoyed the film, and began explaining that he saw the original Star Wars film way back in 1977. He later joked with the other members of the family that the boy had joined the Dark Side as he began misbehaving. This sci-fi fantasy is a permanent part of our culture, and an unsuccessful new trilogy would have made that less likely.

Read More →

10 Years: My Favorite Articles Over the Past Decade

Ten years ago today, I saw the film The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, a mostly delightful film directed by Terry Gilliam and starring Heath Ledger in what was his final film. I was in Seoul, South Korea, beginning my overseas career that has taken me to Europe, Asia, and Africa. I decided to write about the movie. I called the film a "fascinatingly imaginative" one. My review of the review itself is that it's okay; one can certainly see that I was not as focused as a reviewer should be, and too many swings were taken.

I'd like to think I've gotten better, at least a little bit.

As the ten years have passed, I've included below a list of some of my favorite reviews. I cannot identify why I like them; some of them aren't even that well-written. But for whatever reason, they've stuck with me.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes
Three years ago, in my review of Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the better-than-expected reboot of the series, I wrote that the horror of the film was that the "descent with modification" that is evolution is flipped and the hegemony of humans over their distant cousins is reversed. The horror of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is that now both species have guns, and will do anything to destroy each other. There exists here an embrace of the "killer ape theory," the idea that "war and interpersonal aggression was the driving force behind human evolution." War has found a way.

All the Star Wars Movies Ranked
You have not lived until you've seen The Star Wars Holiday Special. I almost simply want to leave it at that. Why was there a desire to turn the hit 1977 blockbuster into a Christmas special one year later on TV? Money, I guess. Money, and the fact that people often like movies that are so bad, they're good. This "holiday special" opens with Han and Chewie being chased by a Star Destroyer, some mumbo-jumbo about a Christmas-like holiday called Life Day, and then a bizarre introduction of the cast. The regulars are all there--how they were convinced to do a TV holiday special, we'll never know--but we also have Bea Arthur, Art Carney, and Harvey Korman. And an animated portion. And it's a musical. And Carrie Fisher was high. And George Lucas has supposedly said that if he could destroy ever boot-legged copy, he would. Watch this mess of a movie, and then watch Harrison Ford's reaction to it.

Jurassic World
I can still remember the day I saw Jurassic Park somewhat vividly. It was a hot summer day in 1993, and as I jumped out of our family's car, my mother explained to me that I might find the film to be scary because in the movie "some of the dinosaurs eat other dinosaurs." From the opening moments, I was completely mesmerized, and I probably had no idea that movies were capable of presenting such images. I loved it from start to finish. We left the theater, had lunch, then came back to watch Free Willy. It remains one of the greatest days of my life. I can't imagine that twenty years from now I will remember watching Jurassic World, the fourth installment in this franchise, the one where the movie's makers stood on the shoulders of geniuses and were so proud of their ability to make what is now the world's fifth-highest-grossing movie of all time (with $1.4 billion in just one month) and bring back the franchise from the dead. The trouble is that they never stopped to think if they should.

Inception

With Nolan, there is a special attention to detail, and when there are elaborate and expensive CGI images, one gets the sense that Nolan, unlike so many other directions, has not forgotten that the onus is on him to make the audience believe that these images are real. Cities fold onto themselves and characters fly like acrobats in a gravity-less corridor. There are nightmares--Cotillard's near-perfect moments as practically a ghost tormenting Cobb's guilt--filled with sudden horrifying glances, a look that could kill. And then a firm grip with a broken glass, and a powerful charge. And there is the wonder of subtext with regards to psychology and even architecture, all culminating in a film inspired by obvious previous science fiction films.

Black Swan
Nassim Nicholas Talem's The Black Swan is a philosophy book about improbability and how to deal with it. The title comes a Latin expression--more or less that a good man is as rare as a black swan (black swans were obviously non-existent). With the discovery of black swans in the seventeenth century, a millennium of thinking had instantly been erased. Moments of unpredictability--the outbreak of World War I, 9/11--present a "black swan problem."

There are characters here in Aronofsky's movie that participate in this game so that their desired outcome is achieved. However, its central player, performed by Natalie Portman, is one who is feeble and unable to do as the other characters do. But it's much more complicated than that--it appears she is going crazy.

Jackie
The first dialogue in the film, a tense humorless banter session between a grieving widow angry at how the press is handling the aftermath of the assassination, and a journalist (Crudup) confused about what to say and skeptical of how much control Mrs. Kennedy has with the article he's writing sets a sufficient tone. Within moments of the scene, it's clear just how much preparation Portman put into this role, her best work since her Oscar-winning performance in Black Swan. She likely practiced and practiced until she perfected that very wealthy, breathy Mid-Atlantic voice of Jackie's. It's not simply an imitation, but one that requires her to be scared, sad, bitter, confused, angry, comforting, and concerned.

She puts it to best use when we see Jackie fight back against the new administration to make sure JFK gets what she believes to be the most appropriate funeral. She confronts Jack Valenti (the LBJ aide and future president of the Motion Picture Association of America, played here by Max Casella). As she heads out the door, it seems Valenti has won and there will be a more modest procession for safety purposes. But won he has not. Jackie turns back to him. "Mr. Valenti, would you mind getting a message to all of our funeral guests when they arrive?" He will. "Inform them that I will walk with Jack tomorrow--alone if necessary. And tell General De Gaulle that if he wishes to ride in an armored car or in a tank for that matter, I won't blame him. And I'm sure the tens of millions of people watching won't either." Why is she doing this? She's just doing her job, she asserts.

Smoke Signals
Thomas is awkward and loquacious, to say the least, but he's not afraid to retort with an equally mean comment. Victor cruelly brings up the fiery deaths of Thomas' parents, and yet Thomas, after pausing and quickly collecting his thoughts, calmly brings up the fact that Victor's father Arnold, an abusive drunk, likely will never come back after abandoning them. In addition to his wit and humor, Thomas is a fantastic raconteur, even if he embellishes his stories. He is played as a teenager by Evan Adams and as a young boy by Simon Baker, and both are quite good portrayals. So too are the two playing Victor: young Cody Lightning and as an adolescent by Adam Beach, probably the most successful indigenous North American actor these days (even though he was criminally misused in last year's Suicide Squad). The film frequently switches back and forth between when Thomas and Victor were children and to the present day, where Victor reluctantly agrees to let Thomas accompany him to Arizona (because he needs his money) to retrieve the ashes of the recently deceased Arnold. But where there's smoke, there's fire, as they say.

Life of Pi
Pi is a a mystic and a philosopher. His parents are scientists, though they named him not after the mathematical equation but after a swimming pool, the Piscine Molitor pool in France. Piscine, or Pi, mostly rejects his parents' lack of faith because "to choose doubt as a philosophy of life," the author Yann Martel mentions in the book, "is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."  This is a fascinating thought, and I wished it would have made it to the film. Unfortunately, much of this deeper thinking is omitted; instead, we are treated to more of a visual experience. Pi may be a philosopher as is the author, but director Ang Lee is a visual artist. As an artist, he is remarkable and deserves his nomination for Best Director.  But with Life of Pi, he hasn't been able to marry the visual with everything else like he did with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Brokeback Mountain.

12 Years a Slave
This is a tale of a total deficit of empathy and compassion. The other major movies regarding the black American experience this year (42 and Lee Daniels' The Butler) are ultimately about success. 12 Years a Slave is only about failure. It's true that there is a portion not necessarily about success but about survival. The primary motivation of Solomon is not to revenge, which he does only once, fighting back against a terribly vicious man played by Paul Dano. Instead, his motivation is to live, as he clearly states. I have not yet mentioned how magnificent Ejiofor is as Solomon Northup. It is one of the very best performances of the year and perhaps the decade. Of the elements of this film, particularly the direction from Steve McQueen, are incredible and worthy of their Oscar nominations. It is truly one of the best films of the year.

Roma
The parents (played by Marina de Tavira and Fernando Grediaga) do not always come across in the best light. The father is unfaithful and abandons his family, while the mother is concerned about her daughter getting fat and sometimes lashes out at Cleo. In one scene, she strikes one of the boys, quickly apologizes while weeping, and then blames Cleo. The children seem to not notice this cruelty; this youthful ignorance likely is what sparked the film's conception. (Cuaron is not making things up. Domestic workers around the world are undoubtedly mistreated.) In Cleo's case, she is not an authoritarian figure to the children, probably because it's not in her nature and probably because she knows it might cost her her job. Because she's so kind to the children, they really adore her. Her adult employers, maybe not.

Aparicio, whose father is Mixtec and whose mother is Triqui, made her debut performance in Roma, and she was nominated for Best Actress at the Academy Awards, making her the first indigenous actor to do so. She hasn't decided if she will continue acting or not, but I hope she does. De Tavira was also nominated, and her performance is terrific as well. There's a lot to read in between the lines with her performance. In the scene where she takes Cleo to the hospital, for example, she practically destroys her husband's car as she squeezes it between two trucks. She either has too much on her mind due to his abandonment, or she just wants revenge, or perhaps it's both. There's complexity to her. This makes sense, as Cuaron has stated that the film is a tribute to both his mother and his nanny.

Wadjda
This is somewhat the conundrum for young Wadjda. It's obvious from the lectures she receives from her mother and teachers that what she is doing is wrong. So what are the terribly forbidden acts she commits?  Well, for one, she listens to rock (or pop, or something). She sticks up for her mother against a mean driver.  And of course, she really wants a bike. Not only does she want a bike, but she wants to ride it faster than any boy. But she receives no support. "A woman's voice is taboo," according to her teacher. How appropriate it is that Wadjda gets a bit of an epiphany when she sees a bike atop a car, as if it's flying. But there are two obstacles for her in her quest. First, as Saudi Arabia is literally the only country in the world where women are banned from driving, she is prohibited from riding in public. (Recently, the country decreed that it is permissible for women to ride bikes, as long as they wear an abaya while doing so and be accompanied by a male guardian--so how often do you think that's going to happen?) Second, the bike costs about 800 Riyals (about $213).

Scream
Craven, who passed away this past September, was criticized in the past for his depiction of violence. When asked about this by Terri Gross in 1980, he discussed not only witnessing the carnage in Vietnam on a nightly basis in front of his TV screen as being sort of a muse for him, but also him shooting a rat as a young boy for fun. "And it took a lot of killing to kill that rat," he said, "and it continued screaming for a long time. I'll tell you, when I was done I was totally drained. I was totally shocked by what--not only what I had done for amusement, but how fiercely that thing struggled to stay alive. And that moment never left me. You know, I never again hunted, never killed. But I remembered how hard just a rat struggled to be alive. And somehow I was able to transfer that to, you know, the thought of any human being--anything, how fiercely we all hang onto life." This is certainly true for the Barrymore character, as she does everything to hang on to life, trying to call out for her parents, returning home, but unable to produce any kind of audible cry. It's nice to know that even if Williamson created a fun slasher whodunit with a bit of dark humor in it, Craven was fluent in the terrible reality of violence and its impact on ourselves. 

The NeverEnding Story
Children will like the film, if they can tolerate the fact that they've already seen various different stories just like it. There are numerous cliches in it: witches and wizards, a boy on a quest, a land called Fantasia, and a bunch of strange creatures that look like their next stop is the Cantina from Star Wars. The scenes that really work are the ones that present something new to the genre: like a humorous scene involving an archaic tortoise who's allergic to youth, and another quite dark one involving the Swamps of Sadness. In this scene, if sadness overtakes those who enter, they sink into the swamp. There's nobody there to clap and make one's pet come back to life, but it's still a fairly enjoyable movie. 

A Fish Called Wanda

Curtis is perfect at portraying such a seductive and funny character. And while it's reasonable to believe that perhaps Cleese's character would be the smart one of the group, he is the one who dances in the nude (while speaking Russian), only to discover a family walk in on him. Kline in particular is wonderful to watch. He is as animated as Chaplin and as fast as Keaton. Moment after moment, he shines. He is ready to assassinate Ken (regardless of the consequences), he loquaciously speaks Italian as he makes love, and he deeply inhales the leather boot of Wanda in the film's best fetish moment. He likes winning, too, and when he is challenged on the United States losing the Vietnam War, he shouts, "We didn't lose Vietnam! It was a tie!" His jealousy, his hatred of the Brits, his constant need to complicate things are all marvelously done by Kline. But as clumsy as Otto is, there is something deeply troubling him. To tie in the Morris-Dunning-Wheeler aspect, Otto is frequently called stupid, and his voice slows--"Don't ever, ever call me 'stupid,'" he warns. There is complexity here, yet Kline allows hyperbole without losing control, and there is an endless amount of stupidity with his character. For Kline's performance, he was awarded the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

Into the Woods
Once the familiar becomes strange, as Michael Sandel has said, things are never quite the same. So it is in Disney's adaptation of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine's Into the Woods. Here, the familiar becomes quite strange. I recall complaining to my theatre professor when my university put on a production of Into the Woods my freshman year that I didn't care for the sudden change in mood during the second act of the musical. But he and others convinced me of this necessity; strange is often quite good, and Disney, of all studios, has done a mostly good job of avoiding the "Disneyfication" of these famous stories like it did for practically a century.

Head
I imagine most young teenagers of the late 1960s, the ones too young to appreciate Pet Sounds and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band as much as their older siblings, the ones who really dug the zany, Marx Brothers-style comedy of the two seasons of The Monkees, probably were confused out of their mind after watching Head, the 1968 counterculture cult film co-written by Jack Nicholson.

Head is probably the strangest movie I have ever seen. And it's not just strange--it's bad. It would have been bad for the young fans of the Monkees, it would have been bad (or good, I suppose) for music lovers who readily dismissed the group as frauds who couldn't play instruments. It would have been bad for older folks who were utterly confused at young Baby Boomers and their values. And it would have been bad for Baby Boomers who had no idea how to articulate what they stood for.

Crossing the Line

Movies are usually seen through prisms and experiences. Here's mine: I have lived in South Korea for about seven months. I have become much more interested in North Korea than I was in the United States, but not because South Koreans are interested in North Korea (most of them are clearly not). I have been to the DMZ, as mentioned, and tours to a city called Kaesong, or Gaesong, have been suspended by the South after North Korean soldiers shot and killed a South Korean tourist. The North and South are currently negotiating terms to open up the tours again. Relations between the two are currently at their usual worst. When I watched this film, it was about a week after a South Korean vessel suffered an explosion and thereby sank it, causing the deaths of nearly fifty South Korean navy men. As of now, it is not clear if North Korea was responsible. If conflicts do heat up again, Mr. Dresnok and I are geographically speaking not too far apart, and we will be first-row witnesses to the tempest.

Life Itself
Film critics are meant to be the unsung heroes of movie-watching. That is, we not only are long passed the days of Pauline Kael and Siskel and Ebert but we are also passed the point where people take film critics' opinions seriously. But if Ebert could have had some kind of totally objective viewing of such a documentary, I believe he would adore this movie. He would certainly be proud of director Steve James, one of Ebert's favorite directors. Ebert famously said that no good movie is too long but no bad movie is short enough. I've never found that particularly accurate, but it surely is here. I didn't want the film to end. But all good things must end; such is life itself.

Power Trip
One last thing about Georgia and electricity. The film details many Georgians illegally connecting their electricity. When I was in Georgia, an older woman was cutting the electrical wires to sell, and accidentally cut the wrong switch. The result: the entire country of neighboring Armenia was without internet. My Western friends and I never heard anything else about her, but we partly suspect she's in prison.

Mitt
How lucky Whiteley was when the Romney family approved of the making of a documentary about his first campaign for president back in 2006; surely he could not have imagined that this would in fact be a six year journey, an intimate portrait unlike that of any other candidate in 2008 or 2012. We are reminded of the fascinating race that was 2008; the Democrats, with their history-making candidates, and the Republicans, awkwardly trying to show the country they weren't George W. Bush. At the time, you will recall, the nomination seemed to be Rudy Giuliani's for the taking (Rudy Giuliani?), and John McCain, who initially started as Giuliani's main opponent, kept sinking and sinking and sinking. Romney stood as sort of the most credible conservative alternative, yet conservatives were very suspicious (and rightfully so) of Romney due to his frequent flip-flops. Romney, aware of this perception, tells his advisers and family members that he is the "flipping Mormon." Watch McCain's sucker punch, seen in the documentary, to Romney, mockingly calling him "the candidate of change."

But also consider Romney's response. He tells McCain that the "I know more about foreign policy than you do" argument is flawed. Romney was right. The first presidential debate between McCain and Obama focused on foreign policy, and yet not only did Obama actually beat McCain, but McCain lost the election, largely because of the Iraq War and the economy. The point I'm trying to make is that Romney is seen frequently in this documentary as a very astute candidate. He humbly calls himself a flawed one, one who doesn't really fit the Republican mold, and yet time after time in this film he is right. 

One time he was wrong however, is the actual election night, which is where our film opens. He doesn't have the president's number. Why would he need it? To concede, of course, and yet he hasn't even written a concession speech. Think of previous failed candidates--Mondale, Dukakis, Dole--they all knew, as everyone did, that they were going to lose. Romney, on the other hand, apparently really thought he was going to win, and who can blame him? After all, he probably was listing to the wrong pundits...One particular scene that I enjoyed was the very final one. I won't reveal it, only to say that it answered a question I'm sure many have had about losing presidential nominees: where do they go when they lose? In this scene, Mitt and Ann Romney seem content, about as content as someone can be who lost two consecutive presidential elections. But they're alive, as are the beautiful members of their family. Life goes on. The long day closes. 

Yellow Submarine
This movie may not have as long-lasting a legacy as the Beatles' music itself, but that's mainly a comment on how high the bar is in relation to their music. Yellow Submarine is largely credited with helping to make animation be perceived as a serious art form. Beyond that, there are obvious influences as far as Terry Gilliam's work with Monty Python and the French animated film Fantastic Planet. And there's little doubt that most children, even these days, would be mesmerized by the animation, especially during sequences like "Nowhere Man" or the dizzy Sea of Holes, a scene unlike anything ever produced in pictures. Some adults, though, might be overwhelmed or possibly disinterested (or might suffer from a headache). Still, what a wonderful way to introduce young children to the Beatles, especially the last few moments of the movie.

Noah
In his exhaustive anthology of the history of violence called The Better Angels of Our Nature, Steven Pinker starts with the Bible, which "depicts a world that, seen through our modern eyes, is staggering in its savagery." He cites Matthew White, who estimates that through 600 passages that discuss violence, the number of deaths is around 1.2 million--genocidal numbers. The victims of the flood would increase the number to 20 million.

Incidentally, Pinker's thesis is that humans are, contrary to the "if-it-bleeds-it-leads" philosophy of the media, actually becoming more peaceful, not more violent. He humorously opens his work by reminding us of the Cain and Abel story: "With a world population of exactly four, that works out to a homicide rate of 25 percent, which is about a thousand times higher than the equivalent rates in Western countries today."

Director Darren Aronofksy embraces this violence. His Noah is heavy on it. At one point, the title character, played by Russell Crowe, throws a spear at an adversary. I can't wait for the action figure; it will make Paramount Pictures a fortune. Is this really a Darren Aronofky film? It is, and Noah is the great disappointment of the year. It feels like an amateurish undertaking filled with fairy tale dialogue.

Southside With You
One could easily make the argument that if this movie weren't about the Obamas, it would be far less interesting (or marketable). Just as Boyhood was special only because it was filmed over twelve years, Southside With You only works when we're reminded that this is the current First Couple we're watching. Part of the flaw of this movie is the second-rate screenplay that seems more like a mediocre theater playwriting dissertation. The conversations are almost predictable, covering topics ranging from God, Black American art, and Stevie Wonder. But I will at least concede that there was a line in the film I found humorous: a woman scolding someone by telling them, "Watch your mouth--your ass in church."

The church is where we see Obama the community organizer, an exceptional line of work that has often been mocked by people with only half a brain. "No is just a word," he tells the hopeless, members of a community struggling to find funding. And the opposite of no, he says, is on, as in carry on. Barack Obama is the closest thing this nation has ever had to having a Preacher in Chief. It's probably the film's best scene, though it tiptoes towards cliches. It's at least the only moment where Sawyers actually sounds like Barack Obama, a little too professorial, as Michelle tells him, but it's a reminder that Obama has been one of the best orators to have occupied the White House. A motivator, a coach, a pragmatist, a patriot.

It's in this scene where Sawyers shines the most. Sawyers has had bit parts in major movies like Zero Dark Thirty, but here in his first starring role, the guy looks like Obama, talks like Obama, even shakes hands like Obama. The movie may have sub par dialogue, but it at least recognizes that Barack, in the story at least, probably knew that he likely was going to speak at this community meeting, and that it might just be pretty impressive to show off to his supervisor (a supervisor he is courting). But it's a success nonetheless. Things from there become more intimate as Michelle agrees to drinks and teasingly asks him if he prefers white or black women.

Crazy Rich Asians 
Constance Wu plays Rachel Chu, an economics professor at New York University. She's dating another professor named Nick Young (son of Eleanor). He's adorable but kind of frugal, using her Netflix password and things like that. But he invites her to Singapore for spring break so they can attend his best friend's wedding. Within a matter of minutes, the entire Young family and their network know of this Rachel Chu, and they can't stand her. Even though Rachel's mother is unaware of this gossip, she tries to warn her daughter as she heads abroad to meet Nick's family.

"Your face is Chinese," she tells Rachel. "You speak Chinese." But, she adds in English, "you're different."

She's right. According to the Hofstede Center, China is a collectivist culture that can be described as masculine (success-oriented and and driven), often acting with the "interests of the group and not necessarily of themselves." The Center also claims that "people should not have aspirations above their rank." This helps explain how Rachel will be viewed by Nick's family.

Roger Moore
Roger Moore, who passed away last week, did it better than just about everyone else. In terms of James Bond, his most famous role, he was the only one of the six who understood the farcical, fictitious, facetious nature of the character. Spies, frankly, don't look like James Bond, they don't dress like James Bond, and they don't drive extravagant cars like Bond does. I certainly doubt they introduce themselves like he does, regardless of which order they put their name in.

Thus, Moore's Bond was more humorous than Sean Connery's, certainly more than Timothy Dalton's or Daniel Craig's. It would be hard to image practically any of the others floating around in space like he did in Moonraker in the era of late 1970s sci-fi, or dressed like a clown in Octopussy. But this is what helped set him apart, and this is why to many he was the best. After six seasons of the successful series The Saint, Moore would go on to eventually tie Connery with the most appearances as Bond (a total of seven). They ranged from pretty darn good (The Spy Who Loved Me and For Your Eyes Only) to mediocre or slightly substandard (Moonraker, Octopussy, A View to a Kill), to the bad (Live and Let Die) and awful (The Man With the Golden Gun). They all, for the most part, have a humorous bent, particularly when Moore finally appeared to stop doing a version of Connery's Bond and just come up with a new persona. His was far gentler; his Bond may have been as horny as the others were, but at least he didn't rape a woman (like Connery's Bond did in Goldfinger). Yet for whatever reason, 53 percent of women rated Connery the best.

Tim Curry
Roger Ebert wrote in his review of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a film he didn't like, that Curry was the most enjoyable cast member to watch because, for one, he was the only one (according to Ebert) who looked like he was having fun. Indeed, Curry seems to be always having fun in his films. He has a taste for the hyperbole, which heightens the enjoyment, whether he's complimenting Sylvester Stallone's daughter's big, round diphthongs in Oscar, or going toe-to-fin with Kermit the Frog in Muppet Treasure Island, or butchering a Romanian accent in the guilty-pleasure film Congo.

Tim Curry has never quite been a main-stream actor. Often he is "the guy from..." or something like that; many of his performances may forever be lost in the Nickelodeon vault of history and time. But many of his films have gained cult film status, such as Times Square, in which he played a radio show host. The film was not particularly well-reviewed upon its release in 1980, but since has become celebrated by the queer community for its portrayal of young (implied) lesbians. Clue, likewise, virtually became unknown despite its all-star cast, solid reviews, and famous title. It was only with the popularity of home video and its frequent showing on Comedy Central that it became well-known. Of course, The Rocky Horror Picture Show in 1975 was the firm visualization of surreal camp, with its tribute to B-horror and science fiction movies, rock 'n' roll, and transvestism. Curry, likewise, has never really been a leading man, and he has claimed in interviews that he doesn't want to be one. He usually is his best when surrounded by other talented performers.

Leonard Nimoy
Just about anyone could relate to Spock in at least one way. The most obvious is the fact that the character grew up with a Vulcan father and human mother. Star Trek, as many know, was at the time exploring societal issues and controversies in a way no other series even dared. One young girl, herself biracial, identified with the character and wrote to Nimoy seeking advice. He wholeheartedly replied, telling her to be true to herself as opposed to simply trying to be popular. The current president has been criticized for being "too Spocky and not enough Rocky," but relying on the former's qualities seems to have served him better. Barack Obama, obviously, is also biracial, and perhaps this is why he told the nation yesterday that he himself "loved Spock." Beyond issues of Spock being biracial were issues of him simply being weird; Robert Lloyd of the Los Angeles Times suggested that these days we would simply say Spock is "on the spectrum." Spock is different, no doubt, but he is also undeniably talented, strong, and influential. As Captain Kirk tearfully tells his crew at the conclusion of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Spock's heart was the most human. 

Christopher Lee
Like many young people, I first saw Lee in 2001 in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, his best film. In it, he plays Sauruman the White, the wizard corrupted by Saron's power. His fight scene with Ian McKellen as Gandalf the Grey is truly spectacular. I don't think I really understood quite who Lee was as an actor until I was introduced to some of the Hammer horror films he first became known for. He appeared in 1957 as the Creature in The Curse of Frankenstein, a gorier version of the famous story, but despite the gore, Lee appeared to have never judged these characters he played. He once said that he "always felt sorry for them, that they didn't want to be that." The grotesque makeup applied to him and the lack of dialogue do not do much to present an image of the actor's abilities, but the film's follow-up did. That film was in 1958 as Dracula, the elegant count. The Guardian put it this way: "Christopher Lee was Dracula; he had taken over the character as clearly as Sean Connery took over James Bond."

The Language Of Hollywood
Fortunately, Paul Thomas Anderson's Punch-Drunk Love from 2002 not only fantastically uses color, but also tells a great story. Calling this Anderson's least presumptuous film (because it's a 90-minute rom-com starring Adam Sandler), it tells the story of a man named Barry, tortured by his many sisters growing up and who probably has some kind of personality disorder. He falls in love with a friend of his sisters, but must protect her from being harmed by a violent group of men hunting him down for blackmail money due to Barry's one-time use of a phone sex operator. Punch-Drunk Love is half the length of Magnolia, Anderson's previous film, and yet Punch-Drunk Love has aged so much better than Magnolia (which does suffer a bit from presumptuousness). It's one of Anderson's best films, certainly Sandler's best, and is the best film in the class. The best was saved for last.

The Best Movies of 2017
The Florida Project is a masterpiece. Like Tangerine before it, Sean Baker finds atypical stories so worth telling. To paraphrase the fine folks at Pop Culture Happy Hour, this movie might seem like it's going to be "poverty porn" and overly didactic, but it isn't. I don't know how Baker and team managed to do a movie like that this way, but they did. Part of it may be due to the performances, which are perfect. With all due respect to Sam Rockwell's more ostentatious performance in Three Billboards, The Florida Project features probably Willem Dafoe's best performance yet, as the hotel manager and borderline babysitter for the hotel's kids and their parents. (I'm rooting for him to win the Oscar, though he's the underdog.) There are also so many other brilliant performances by unknown actors who for some reason have not been nominated for anything this awards season (especially Brooklynn Prince and Bria Vinaite as the daughter and mother, respectively, living in this low-rent hotel not far from Disney World). This movie is probably one of the best of the decade, and I cannot wait to see the next projects directed by Baker.

All 90 Best Picture Winners Ranked
Basically the first film about the disastrous Vietnam War to reach a wide audience in the United States, The Deer Hunter is about three steel worker friends (Michael, Nick, and Steve, played by Robert De Niro, Christopher Walken, and John Savage, respectively) who are sent to Vietnam. The war has lasting consequences for them all. The most famous, powerful, and controversial scene involves the three of them being held as prisoners of war in a North Vietnamese camp (filmed on the actual River Kwai). There, they are forced to play Russian roulette. This scene is controversial partly because there is no evidence of American POWs being forced in engage in such an act, partly because (in an era when I'm sure American attitudes toward Vietnamese people were at an all-time low) many believe the depiction of the captors is racist, and partly because it unfortunately led to many actual suicides. For these three reasons, the scene is unfortunate. Once a lie is put into a major film, it is difficult to convince the public that it is not a lie. If you're willing to accept the scene as a metaphor for what happened it Vietnam, it might be more palatable.

Read More →