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.
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.
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."
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 2017Life 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 SubmarineThis 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 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.
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