Before we jump in, a disclaimer; living away from home without a vehicle or a half-decent indie theater makes being Mr. Moviephile just a little harder. I haven't seen The Master. Or Cloud Atlas. Or Flight. Or Amour. Be forewarned; this list is imperfect, and incomplete. But it is also a celebration of an imperfect but thrilling year at the movies. It is a chance for me to reflect upon the year that was, and to preserve my opinions for posterity. And, most of all, it is my belated New Year's gift to my beautiful readers, most of whom do double duty as incomparable friends. As always, I'll cite Barbra here: "May all your storms be weathered/and all that's good get better!" And now, without further ado, the list.
Which is very long. But not that long. Seriously. To make this less daunting, here's a picture of it set next to Anna Karenina.
Okay. As my good buddy Bane says, "Let the games begin!"
Runner-Up: Skyfall--
10. Les Miserables
The discerning critic in me gave it a B+, but the everyday moviegoer in me loved the hell out of it, and repeat viewings further accentuated the positive...so yeah, I caved. However, I don't feel too bad. Admittedly, Russell Crowe sounds like he wandered in from a movie about the British Invasion, and yes, Tom Hooper needs to get a tad more acquainted with his tripod, but one of the great purposes of the cinema is to amaze us, and Les Miserables does something truly amazing; it makes one of our most ubiquitous musicals galvanizingly fresh again. The former heir to the Genovian throne is getting all the attention, and it's true that Anne Hathaway has earned her Oscar by making the most famous of musical theater songs a full-on leap into the void, devastating and thrilling us all at once with the furious passion she puts into the jump. But let's also hear it for screenwriter William Nicholson, who deftly adjusted this story for the screen, and for Hugh Jackman, who carries the whole enterprise with his confidence, sensitivity, and sheer emotional commitment. At the end of the day, it's a sterling, stirring adaptation.
9. Silver Linings Playbook
No gimmicky setups. No high concepts. This is that rarest of cinematic creatures--a mainstream movie about nothing more or less than a couple of people and how they interact with one another. It had the year's best soundtrack (sorry, Django Unchained), and its best climax, a wordless dance-off that's both a slam-bang comedic setpiece and a thrilling, cathartic release of carefully built tension. It also had some of the year's strongest performances; heartwarming work by a reinvigorated Robert DeNiro, a commendably go-for-broke performance by Jennifer Lawrence, and, best of all, a star-making turn from Bradley Cooper, who, with his stunted eyes and tremulous voice, is the quiet, heartbreaking
center of this smart, sweet film about the traces of madness in all of
us.
8. Bernie
The true story of Bernie Tiede, a mortician and small-town social butterfly turned murderer, could be told as a crime thriller, a tragic romance, or a dark comedy. Director Richard Linklater's stroke of demented genius was to make a film that was a combination of all three, to cast a never better Jack Black as the titular character, and to enlist the real-life residents of said small town to act as a riotously funny Greek chorus.
7. Footnote
6. Perks Of Being A Wallflower
Mean Girls gave the Facebook generation our Heathers, and in this touching and assured adaptation of Stephen Chbosky's best-seller, we have our Breakfast Club. Like that film, this tale of a few high school outcasts deals honestly and forthrightly with the fiery eruptions of confusion and self-doubt that characterize the high-school experience--and also with the fragile beauty of the once-in-a-lifetime friendships forged amidst the flames. Centered by Logan Lerman's deeply felt lead performance and anchored by the sturdy direction of Chbosky himself, Perks also benefits from a revelatory supporting turn by Ezra Miller, as well a typically brilliant Emma Watson, who masters an American accent faster than you can say "Wingardium Leviosa".
5. Looper
4. Argo
3. Beasts of The Southern Wild
2. Lincoln-
First, some concessions; this film's on somewhat shaky historical footing, and, like every critic who's seen it, I am shocked, shocked that a director as great as Steven Spielberg didn't know to end the thing with that indelible shot of our 16th president walking alone down the hallway, and instead kept going. But forgive this movie its very real flaws and you'll see a masterpiece, one that engages eternal questions of governance and human nature while never losing focus of its central figure, who, thanks to the peerless Daniel Day-Lewis, becomes a person again, a sublimely sly and savvy politician whose warmth masks a stone-cold intellect, and whose rapier wit is a defense mechanism against his volcanic, indignant anger at God and man. Day-Lewis's adjective-defying work alone renders Lincoln a must-see, but the brilliance of the behind-the-scenes talent makes it a candidate for classic status. Spielberg has a tendency to weigh his movies down with treacle, and screenwriter Tony Kushner sometimes tramples delicate human emotion with his brainier-than-thou verbosity. Just as they did on Spielberg's last great movie, Munich, they correct each other's weaknesses and play off of each others strengths; here they create a film that is booth (Freudian slip?) deeply sentimental about the possibilities of democracy and unstintingly honest about the pain, guilt, and insurmountable loneliness that await those elected to run a democracy. It's hopeful, haunted, and smart-as-a-whip--in other words, it has an awful lot in common with the man it chronicles.
1. Moonrise Kingdom
Stylistically, Wes Anderson's movies come off like cinematic equivalent of the artwork done by children during therapy--they tell stories of unspeakable emotional turmoil with vibrant, fanciful flourishes that both express pain and redeem it by refashioning it into something beautiful. Not surprisingly, that style is extremely well-suited to this tale of troubled children. Moonrise Kingdom is a breathtaking ode to nature, an examination of the Typical American family, a piece of metafiction about the glorious escape provided by good art. But it is, first and foremost, a movie about kids who try to emulate adults while fearing adulthood. That's a conceit rich with comedic and dramatic potential, and the movie mines it for all it's worth. As little Sam and Suzy flee their idyllic island town to start a new life together, they do their damnedest to imitate an authentically adult runaway romance, and the results are often flat-out hilarious, with Anderson affectionately poking fun at noir, melodrama, and even French avant garde while still creating something entirely original. That said, he never once forgets the serious, bittersweet truth hiding just beneath the laughs; these kids are on a doomed mission to live a world apart, to create a space big enough to crowd out reality. They're playing grown-up in hopes of avoiding the agony of actually growing up.
But adulthood is not a living thing to bargain with; just like the movie's masterfully metaphorical climactic flood, it is a force, an event that will happen whether one wants it to or not. The journey to maturity is a wrenching existential crisis; it's also funny as hell. Part of the key to Moonrise's greatness is the way it acknowledges these contradictory truths and brings them together. The other essential ingredient is the cast, especially the two non-pros who play our protagonists. They share a quick look in the film's final scene that hits on the kind of elemental emotional truth many seasoned thespians spend years trying to grasp. They're a big part of what makes this Wes Anderson's best film, and, although there isn't much competition, probably the best movie ever made about puberty.
Coffee break recommended here. Yes, there's more. But here's a picture of this blog compared to one of the Hunger Games book, and those aren't even that long!
The Magnificent Ambersons Awards
This part of the post is named after Orson Welles' 1942 film, which is, famously, half flop and half masterpiece. Thus, here's where I'll talk about some movies that weren't exactly great, but had some truly noteworthy aspects...
Performances
Leonardo DiCaprio, Django Unchained--The bright-eyed wonder boy from Titanic has shown an impressive willingness to get his hands dirty, and rarely have they been dirtier than in Django Unchained, where, as conniving slavemaster Calvin Candy, he raises sliminess to an art form. His third-act monologue is a sick, twisted showstopper, and DiCaprio goes above and beyond scenery chewing to demonstrate just how deranged his character is, just how thoroughly he's convinced himself that his barbarity is merely good common sense.
Selma Hayek, Savages--It was a banner year for villains--The aforementioned DiCaprio earned his place in the Tarantino Rogues Gallery, and the two Toms (Hardy and Hiddleston) successfully brought two of the campier comic book baddies to the screen. However, my favorite baddie flew under the radar. Playing a doting mother who doubles as a murderous drug lord, Hayek turns in a fiercely intelligent performance that constantly prompts the viewer to ask; is she really being sweet, or is she just quietly going in for the kill?
Behind-The-Scenes Talent
Rhythm and Hues Effects, Life of Pi--If you thought Gollum was the apotheosis of CGI, wait till you get a load of Richard Parker. That's the name of the majestic, terrifying tiger at the center of this survival story, and, thanks to the good folks at R&H, he's not just real enough to touch--he's real enough to emote, and, as a result, we're emoting right there along with him.
Scenes
Bane's Opening Salvo, The Dark Knight Rises--The occasionally wondrous but sometimes wobbly conclusion to Chris Nolan's Batman trilogy did boast a few truly unshakeable scenes--especially this go-for-the-jugular attack on a football stadium. As a boy soprano sings "The Star-Spangled Banner", Nolan reminds us that we're not just in some fictional comic book city, but in a real place--one that's about to go up in flames. After a cleverly edited bit of cringe-inducing suspense (oh my GOD, is that poor boy gonna die?!?!), Bane blows the entire field mid-game, a symbolically loaded gesture that literally shatters one of our most basic social structures and, in the process, gives a crowd who came to witness some NFL-sanctioned action a lot more violence than they'd anticipated.
Maya's Flight, Zero Dark Thirty--Unlike every other living human, I don't think Kathryn Bigelow made all the right decisions when bringing the hunt for Bin Laden to the screen. But she did get a lot right, including this whopper of an ending. After the hunt, we're aren't treated to rah-rah triumphalism; all we get is an unblinking shot of Jessica Chastain's CIA agent, weeping in exhausted gratitude. It hammers home the point that the fight against radical Islam is a wholly new kind of war, one where there is no clear-cut victory--only temporary relief.
Billy's Turn, Seven Psychopaths--Martin McDonagh's madcap follow-up to his crazy-profane-brilliant In Bruges loses considerable steam in its third act, but the film's middle section is a wonky wonder. The highlight is Sam Rockwell's five-minute monologue, a tremendously funny riff on action cinema that mocks shoot-em-up tropes even as it embraces them with an almost religious zeal.
Hulk Smash!, The Avengers--The title says it all. Joss Whedon finally figured it out--the Hulk works best on film not as a lead character, but as an occasionally featured scene stealer whose chief function is to hit stuff real good. Better luck next time, Loki.
Trend of the Year: "You Hate Me! You Really, Really Hate Me!"
*Arrested Development reference. Haven't watched Arrested Development? Look who has a new New Year's resolution!!
The End. If you've made it to here, tell me and I'll give you a hug. Happy 2013, folks!
