Top Films of the Decade
Wow. It is already the end of the decade. It is hard to believe that it has already been ten years since Y2K; ten years to the day since I sat alone in my basement with my imaginary friends, watching my then-favorite movie of all time, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (which I had started at 9:30, so if the power went out, I would still be able to finish). Given that little scenario, I guess it can be assumed that the last decade has been kind to me. So now as I sit alone in my basement, I have long since done away with imaginary friends and I am watching good movies (Rear Window, The General, and This is Spinal Tap are all on the docket for the evening).
However, it wouldn’t officially be the end of the year (well, it still would be officially, but in our [my] hearts, it wouldn’t be right without some some sort closure) unless I posted my tribute to the decade that was. It was the decade that saw the complete ruin of popular music. Gas has over tripled in value. The economy has dipped into a recession, and people on both sides of the political (also moral and religious) spectrum hate each other so much that it would cause Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson pause. It was the decade I grew up in (for all intents and purposes. Another correct answer could be the nineties). I can’t (and am not interested to) speak to the entire spectrum of events the last decade has brought about. However, from a movie standpoint, I think I know a thing or two (and by that, I mean to say that I consider my opinion valuable enough for you to listen, even when I’m not standing there, forcing you to be polite). Either way, pop in Graduation by Vitamin C (or Auld Lang Syne) and prepare to get nostalgic.
First, I would like to make a lengthy list of Honorable Mention films and write a sentence or two about them.
HONORABLE MENTION
Rocky Balboa (2006)
Rocky is brought back from retirement (at the age of sixty-something), because of a simulated fight on Sportscenter (you read that right), to fight the heavyweight champion of the world (named Mason “The Line” Dixon). Also, it was REALLY GOOD. Wins for most surprising film of the decade (as even the trailer sold this for the stinker every ounce of my intellect expected it to be).
Michael Clayton (2007)
Bourne scribe Tony Gilroy and one of the decade’s best casts made this a charmingly minimalist film that hearkens back to (and yet still modernizes) the grand legal thrillers of yesteryear. Even more proof that if George Clooney isn’t a modern day “classic movie star”, he at least thinks he is.
Casino Royale (2006)
Amid one of the most epic prequel/reimagining plagues in recent memory Martin Campbell and Daniel Craig revamped the Bond franchise by making the correction the series had been needing for quite some time: more Jason Bourne. As a result of invisible cars, outer space lasers (even Mike Meyers couldn’t out-crazy them), and giant flying saws, Bond had been as irrelevant as The Communist Manifesto until they put him in a modern setting and helped the series feel more real and practical (something you can’t really successfully do with communism).
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Some studio exec (now probably fired) made the mistake of believing that the people who liked Pirates of the Caribbean did so because it was a smart film (it kind of was, but I don’t think a lot of people got that). So, Winter of 2003, another nautical franchise was launched (smarter, but not as light and fluffy) and sold as another big adventure series. However, it didn’t have non-stop action, so the public shut it down instantly. In truth, Peter Weir's epic took 6 years to be fully realized (putting its creation well before the inception of everyone's favorite theme park adaptation). However, to call it a failure would be an understatement. Fortunately, the results of the first voyage for Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany are there for us to enjoy, and are better on repeat viewings than either of the next two Pirates adventures we were forced to endure.
Brick (2006)
Film noir is one thing. Teenagers are another. The two ideas are mutually exclusive of one another (in that before I saw this film, I considered their blending the cinematic equivalent of dividing by zero). However, Rian Johnson took the contemptible idea and made a snazzy, artsy, and outstandingly entertaining mashup with it. Extra points for furthering the star of the stellar Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
A Mighty Wind (2003)
The award for catchiest musical numbers from this decade goes to Christopher Guest and company. Their usual improv comedy was charming and funny as usual, but A Mighty Wind showcased the troupe’s talent for music that had been kind of missing since This is Spinal Tap. Any time Eugene Levy singing can bring a tear to your eye, it is pretty special indeed.
Minority Report (2002)
Minority Report is a film I love for many reasons, but I think I can boil down my feelings on to one specific thing: product placement. Minority Report has the best product placement ever. What would future Toyotas look like? How would the Gap advertise in the future? How will newspapers update in the future? And how does that affect our hero? It is all clever, believable, and driven (something product placement never is in all cases) and those three things describe the entire film.
The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)
The Bourne Series was one of the best bits of pop, mainstream entertainment of the decade. The final film is the best, with some of the coolest action of the decade (Guy killed with book? Check. Car chase? Double check. New remix of Extreme Ways by Moby? Check.). Bourne was one of the definitive figures of our generation, and that they managed to keep his very similar films fresh and exciting was a great accomplishment.
The Lookout (2007)
The Lookout has the distinction of having the second worst trailer of the decade (just behind the international trailer for Slumdog Millionaire). It had to be sold to an audience that doesn’t really exist (because I am not an audience), and its two seemingly contradicting faces (an intelligent comedy and by-the-numbers formulaic teen thriller) meant that the studio tried to sell it to the teens who would just as soon see Date Movie. It is paint by the numbers, (as advertised) but what you can’t pack into a trailer is the notion that this film is one of those rare instances where the numbers actually can be painted into an actual story (or painting if you want me to complete the metaphor), and the formula is handled with precision and care. The movie is as entertaining as anything the decade had to offer.
Memento (2001)
Memento has gotten quite a cult following because of its non-linear storytelling (which is apparently a big deal even, like, 60 years after Citizen Kane [no, I don’t think Citizen Kane invented the idea either]). Guy Pierce is a great leading man, and Christopher Nolan would later (and by later, I mean with every film he has ever made) establish himself as one of the great entertainment directors. Memento is a gimmick film. But just let me say: Best. Gimmick. Ever.
The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007)
Of all the great topics to make a documentary about, my favorite involved two men competing against each other in a battle specially crafted for children. Sure, you can have your Fog of War (loved it, but it has been too long since I saw it for me to include it on this list), but I personally like my human interest docs. In a decade where documentary filmmaking has been dominated by bias and boredom, perhaps capturing people at their lowest is one of the best ways to truly achieve honesty. I personally think it is as great a portrayal of all of the quandaries of life as has been captured on film in the last ten years.
Once (2007)
When people sit in a van and sing at the top of their lungs, usually the song is Queen’s Bonhemian Rhapsody (courtesy of some movie....ugh, not there right now). Some people might branch off and choose other songs (most of them also by Queen. I’m personally a fan of Don’t Stop Me Now, but We Are the Champions, We Will Rock You, and Another One Bites the Dust are all acceptable answers as well). Well, when me and my friends (and I hang out with a lot of guys) sing at the top of our lungs, we sing from Once. “I don’t know you! But I want to! All the more for that!” Nuff said.
Ratatouille (2007)
My strategy for Pixar next year: To avoid spoilers in advertising, simply put in the trailers, “From the people who have made Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, Toy Story 2, Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Cars, Ratatouille, Wall-E, and Up. Really, if you don’t get it by now, will you ever? Here’s the date. Just go.” Or more specifically, “From the people who took a children’s story about a rat that makes food, and somehow made it charming, hilarious, touching, and superbly intelligent...(follow it with the date of the next film).”
The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums is, like all of Anderson’s films, idiosyncratic. On the surface, it is all about Anderson’s style and his little gimmicks (the 90 degree rule, for instance) that he packs into every frame. However, I’ve come to find that one of Anderson’s idiosyncrasies could objectively be considered a film strength (I love the whole package, but I strike from this angle): his thematic obsession. Anderson is a man obsessed with the underdog; the people we don’t want to be around. So he made a film about a rich family that is actually really messed up (because who really loves emo rich people?). From widower Chaz who is so distraught that he runs his family through rigorous fire drills to ensure their safety, to Margot who traveled the world to find meaning (and lies to her husband and looks all emo while doing it), to drug-addict/cheap Western author Eli Cash, Anderson’s quirk and his love for the people society has cast out come together brilliantly for one of the great redemption stories I’ve seen in a long time.
A Serious Man (2009)
One could call a lot of Coen films “inside jokes”. But I think A Serious Man takes that to a new level. One of the most “Jewish” films ever spawned, A Serious Man is one of the most layered and complex films of the decade (you don’t really realize how much you missed until the end of the film). It rewards multiple viewings, although like all Coen films, it is a treat every time you see it.
Children of Men (2006)
If a movie this decade warranted a Don LaFontaine voiceover, it would be this one. “In a world where women can no longer have children, Clive frickin (not really a LaFontaine thing, but I like it) Owen is a man without a future. Until the future of humanity finds him... and asks him to protect it (to clarify for those who haven’t seen the film, there would be clips of him seeing the chick with the baby showing under this). Clive Owen. Michael Caine. And the best frickin tracking shot ever spawned by man star in, CHILDREN OF MEN.”
O' Brother Where Art Thou (2001)
I love the Coen brothers. Although I consider most of their comedies minor when compared to their “serious” films (which really are just subtler comedies), there is no Coen film that I don’t love, and there are at least 8 that I doubt I will ever grow tired of, if just for aesthetic beauty. O’ Brother falls into that category. From the music to the cinematography, it is one of the prettiest, quirkiest films I ever saw.
Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
After the epic was pronounced good and dead (courtesy of Alexander, Kingdom of Heaven, and Troy) the intellectual fanboys (those of us who wanted a little bit more than Spider-Man, Batman, and Professor Xavier [not the name of an actual film, but I’d see it if it was. It would have to be better than Wolverine. Maybe we’d get a bit of the stuff Patrick Stewart proposed on Extras.]) moved on to thrills of the lower budget, more R-rated variety (usually made by the Spanish). Alongside Cuaron’s Children of Men, Pan’s Labyrinth took fantastic storytelling and used it as part of a discussion on larger issues (in this case, fascism). Thrilling, powerful, and terrifying, the movie is on the shortlist of the decade’s best fantasy (and surely the first thing mentioned on Del Toro’s application to direct The Hobbit).
King Kong (2005)
Jurassic Park meets Indiana Jones meets Tremors: and that was just the middle hour. I don’t really disagree with the people who said Jackson’s opus was “too much movie,” but when it all works so well, who cares? This, plus a pick of mine further down the list, solidify my opinion that Jackson has replaced Spielberg as the entertainer of our generation.
Monsters, Inc. (2001)
“From the people who took a fifties industrial culture, inhabited it with monsters, and combined elements of the buddy film and coming of age story into a unique take on fatherhood and one of the most engaging fantasy/comedies of all time... I mean seriously, you can’t even make this stuff up (except for the fact that they did). (DATE HERE)”
THE MAIN LIST
20. Synecdoche, New York (2008)
Roger Ebert recently named Synecdoche, New York his favorite film of the decade, meaning that I can no longer claim to champion it as the underdog film that I had hoped it would be (it didn’t do well financially, and the critics gave it a paltry 60-something percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes). However, Ebert’s praise (as well as just the mystique Charlie Kauffman has developed over the last decade) pretty much ensures that this thing will find an audience in the coming years. Which is good, because few films will anger audiences more. Synecdoche doesn’t really have a story. It hardly has characters. It relies totally on its ideas and Kauffman’s abilities as a writer to keep us intrigued regardless of how forward-moving the whole thing is. Having only seen it once (Ebert admitted that only multiple viewings allowed him to arrive at the conclusion), I look forward to my next experience with it. Who knows. Maybe in fifty years if I do another one of these, it might be at the top as well.
19. United 93 (2006)
I will admit that I was a little bit skeptical when I heard the guy behind the Bourne films was making a 9/11 movie. However, Greengrass brought with him everything that made the Bourne films work (his ability to craft intensity and develop character were really what set the films apart. Also his shaky cam). Unlike other films that tried really hard to do honor to the events, Greengrass engulfed us in the uncomfortable situation and took discomfort to a level of dread and tension I haven’t seen in a movie before. Even now that the events are in the much-more-distant past, the movie still maintains its power over me (someone not even connected with the flight in any way). Greengrass treated United 93 like a real film, and his sensibilities as a filmmaker kept him from exploiting 9/11 or whatever else people thought was going to happen when these movies started coming out. What we now have is a movie that allows us to see a brief glimpse inside the day America changed, and maybe even more importantly, by using film and the event to knock loose our fears and tensions, Greengrass achieved one of the rare moments in cinema where everything came together to tell us a little something truthful about ourselves as humans.
18. Drag Me to Hell (2009)
After a twenty year hiatus from making schlock horror, Sam Raimi returned to the genre he helped innovate and reminded everyone that he still is the greatest of all the masters of both horror and comedy. Horror comedy, as Raimi pioneered it, is perhaps the most immersive of all genre blends. It scares us (and believe me, Drag has its share of legit scares), but so that our minds don’t become desensitized to the scares, it gives us opportunities to laugh as well (which actually makes the audience even more uncomfortable). Raimi is incredibly comfortable in this arena. He choreographs a symphony of shock thrills and grossout gags (and shock gags, which are as terrifying as anything) to create a movie that caused me to have a stupid grin on my face during its entire runtime. Even after twenty years, Raimi was able to instantly surpass all of the horror from contemporary filmmakers (even with a PG-13 rating that so many people claim is irredeemable for good horror). If anyone questioned whether Raimi had lost something in his move to big budget entertainment, I think this movie was as resounding a “No,” as he could possibly have mustered.
17. Spider-Man/Spider-Man 2 (2002, 2004)
More Raimi. I fought for a long time over whether to include the Spider-Man films or not. They certainly weigh down the highbrow aura that I am trying to create (maybe the five Pixar films help with that as well). However, I always come back to one moment each from the original Spider-Man and its sequel, and I am unable to exclude the films because of them. From the original, after defeating the Green Goblin the first time, Spider-Man rescues Mary Jane and takes her to the garden roof of a high-rise somewhere in New York city. She asks him who he is. To this point in the story, Peter Parker has been a loner nerd who we’ve only related to through Sam Raimi’s wonderfully over-the-top portrayal of just how dorky a human being can be. However, Peter has completely transformed under the suit as Spider-Man. His tells MJ on that building, “You know who I am.”
“I do?”
“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”
And with that he dives off the building and swings away, screaming “Woohoo!” at the top of his lungs and running off the side of another building. It was at that moment that I knew I was watching American mythology. The use of vertigo and the adrenaline of flying, mixed with the simple, everyday feelings someone has when they’ve done a good job at something, mixed with the optimism of a life improving, all against the backdrop of larger-than-life buildings that hint at the grander mythos: it’s storytelling at its finest. The other moment is the final moment of Spider-Man 2. Mary Jane has just left her wedding in a decision to be with Peter Parker. She sells the moment perfectly, all smiles, telling him she is willing to go through whatever in order to “Save him.” Police sirens sound and Peter looks out the window. “Go get em Tiger,” she says, and Peter jumps out to the rescue (in a grand scene of him swinging through New York, mirroring the first film). However, it doesn’t end there. It ends with MJ, standing in the apartment. Once Peter is gone, the smile leaves her face. She made the right decision, but like Peter for most of the film, she must now deal with the consequences. Unlike the myth, this is an extremely human moment (one the third film, sadly, didn’t elaborate on at all). It is the expression of a small life; not the grand scale. Like the hero, the duality of the series is what made me fall in love with it, and I hope the next sequels expand on this.
16. Zodiac (2007)
David Fincher’s Zodiac is one of the more enjoyable films of the decade, which is kind of strange, as it is about a serial killer. I wouldn’t call it entertainment, but I suppose as a film lover, any great use of the film medium entertains me to a certain extent. The movie has a ferocious style to it, that keeps the film from becoming another slow police procedural. Its performances are all great (which is good, because the characters are all limited on screen time as they come in and out of the story depending on the actual case files). It is a long film, with a devotion to realism, and I think there are just too many examples of how monotonous such movies can be. However, the cast is up to the challenge, and Fincher’s script keeps things fresh. Unlike many similar mystery films, Zodiac is very rewatchable. This is because the film is enjoyable for reasons other than the mystery. We love the characters. We love the camerawork. We love the tension and the humor. Getting there is more than half the fun (an important requirement for any film about an unsolved mystery).
15. Finding Nemo (2003)
“From the people who reinvented classic animation for a whole new generation, created one of the great adventure yarns in the history of animated film by crafting a story about love, cooperation, and learning to let go, and made us simultaneously laugh and cry, all while submersing us (quite literally) in one of the most gorgeously conceived worlds ever invented, and who invented pop culture and created stories for both kids and adults in a generation when the competition was merely referencing pop culture for cheap laughs to please the parents, comes a film that will probably share the studio’s wonderful skill for casting pitch-perfect voice acting, telling stories that don’t demean children but rather take them to darker places to make the final product more meaningful, and taking no shortcuts en route to crafting perfection. (DATE HERE)”
14. Kill Bill Volumes I and II (2003,2004)
Quentin Tarantino has made a career out of excess. His movies feature too much dialog, too much violence, too much indulgence, too many characters, too many “in” film references, too much wit, and too much sohpistication. To my knowledge, Tarantino is the first ever example of an intellectual whose entire spectrum of knowledge comes directly from the film medium. If that’s not a true synopsis of the man, it is at the very least a good way to go into his films. His characters all work incredible well, but all of them are carved out of the depths of past film characters that preceded them. His stories and creative decisions are similarly affected by all of the film that he has internalized over the years. For the Kill Bill films, Tarantino took this excess to a whole new level. His genre blend of the western and the samurai film was unique. His use of lengthy (and over-stylized) title sequences, heavy musical interludes, seedy animation, Power Rangers action, ludicrous plot developments (that always somehow work): it would almost seem like someone was imitating what most of the public thinks a Tarantino film is. Except only Tarantino could make something so outlandish work so smoothly. His backlog of music (all of it pitch perfect for mood and pacing); his elaboration of the idiotic to the insightful ( a gun that shoots “truth serum” is used to create one of the film’s most poetic moments); his understanding of what film is and how it tells stories; it’s all carefully honed in on one of the most ambitious and ridiculous sagas ever put to the big screen.
13. The Dark Knight (2008)
With the exception of my number one pick of the decade, there was no movie that I anticipated more than The Dark Knight. Christopher Nolan had proven to me that he was a great storyteller (I’d already seen Memento, Insomnia, The Prestige, and Batman Begins), but the followup to Begins just felt like it had the makings of something that went beyond that. Watching Begins again, I couldn’t pinpoint what in it made me anticipate it more than, say, Quantum of Solace (as Casino Royale has held up much better to repeat viewings than Batman Begins has), but regardless, I knew it was going to be great, and then it was great. The performances were dynamic (Ledger was everything the hype said he was), and the direction from Nolan was similarly outstanding (he finally mastered the shaky cam action). The script, up to expectations, was the crime film/superhero myth/war epic that we all wanted. I shivered, shook, and squirmed through the entire film, and I went back time and time again, soaking in more than anyone should have a right to from a superhero film. It expanded the possibilities for entertainment on a large scale, and it reminded me that big budget entertainment can be every bit as intelligent as the Oscar bait that I usually have to trudge through to get a semblance of an idea.
12. Let the Right One In (2008)
The last decade has not been kind to vampires. Twilight (as well as Underworld, Blood and Chocolate, and the other slew of Hollywood knockoffs) has cheapened the brand that was once responsible for a handful of the greatest horror films of all time. Contrast this with zombies, who have gotten a solid remake (Zach Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead), an impressive re-imagining (28 Days Later), and one of the greatest parodies of all time (Shaun of the Dead). However, in spite of that, the best horror film of the decade is STILL a Vampire movie, and I’ll be darned if it isn’t one of the finest vampire movies of all time. Like all great genre films, Let the Right One in has very little to do with the genre. It is a film about childhood (a topic that, if done right, is more powerful in the cinematic medium than any other). It utilizes the cold Swedish winters, the uneasiness of blood, and the fear of the night as catalysts for its story about just how uneasy and uncertain adolescence is. What does it mean to have a friend, even if that friend kills for sustenance. What does that friendship really mean? The movie creates parallels between growing up and the vampire mythology (a biting commentary if you will), and in doing so it realizes an epiphany that is so brilliant it almost seems obvious. The end left me shaking.
11. Hot Fuzz (2007)
Hot Fuzz is a mess. I mean that in the most positive way that I possibly can. It is a mess of everything I love about movies, but it is still a mess. Edgar Wright’s followup to Shaun of the Dead is funnier, longer, and more polished than its predecessor. What it lacks in brevity, it more than makes up for with its lion’s share of wit and its ability to create laughs, thrills, and chills at every single turn. It’s the type of genre blend that makes your head spin (part screwball comedy, part Michael Bay actioner, part Agatha Christy mystery, part Horror romp). Wright and co. also bring to the table a hearty helping of some of the most intelligent (almost sophisticated) writing you will ever find. Packed with filmmaking (and film loving) “in” jokes, and thematic conundrums (who really is the good guy in the movie?) that make it reward repeat viewings, Hot Fuzz is one of those movies that can only really be appreciated fully once it has been digested, reflected on, and then enjoyed again and again.
10. Up (2009)
“From the people who made a movie for kids out of an old miserly man and his house (and an annoying Nature Scout), that had everyone balling their eyes out for the first ten minutes, the last ten minutes, and at least a couple ten minute segments in the middle, while still having everyone from three to ninety-three in stitches laughing and at the edge of their seat in either suspense or adrenaline-fueled anticipation (when they weren’t crying); that used symbolism, imagery, and lighting in ways that dwarf even the most seasoned and talented of Hollywood’s storytellers, and created a film so emotionally charged and universally appealing that it dominated top ten lists and box office records alike; that continued to raise the bar, even when it seemed there was no way they could break through the next ceiling (following up one of the masterpieces of the decade), by trying more difficult subject matter and making movies that truly break through the walls of entertainment and come out as something animation rarely is: art; comes a movie that will probably feature the studio’s trademark wit, visual flare, and willingness to take their stories to the ends of the world (tipuis in South America), the dark corners of life (death and mourning), and proper thematic conclusions (the spirit of adventure is different things at different times in life, but I will leave that for you to discover).”
9. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is the kind of movie that I fall hard for. Critics and audiences both may reject it, but I am absolutely in love with just about every single frame of this film, and I consider it Wes Anderson’s masterpiece. Like its filmmaker, The Life Aquatic is very much an oddity. With all of its beautiful, idiosyncratic photography, self-satisfied dialog, and generally quirky (though entirely unlikable) cast of characters, the main debate over The Life Aquatic is whether its external trappings amount to anything substantial. The story moves to the absurd multiple times, and it is true that the whole enterprise reeks of self-satisfaction. Then again, so does all of Anderson’s work. In spite of the general critical consensus that there isn’t much below Aquatic’s surface, I generally hold that it is a movie that can (and for me, it certainly does) resonate deeply. While the story will occasionally stray into out-of-place action sequences and ludicrous dialog, I think it all ultimately is feeding into the film’s overall goal. I actually consider The Life Aquatic to be one of the seminal works this decade about male insecurity. The entire movie, like its titular protagonist, is unlikeable. Zissou has lost his humanity, and he no longer has any confidence. He puts on a facade, and the film follows him through it. It manipulates itself to give him meaningless redemptive moments, and everything he says is a cliche to match (“I’m on the edge. I don’t know what comes next.”) The man and the movie are interlinked. I think a lot of people got that from the film. Where I think they fail to track with the film is that the point is not the redemption of Zissou. Zissou is not redeemed in the movie by any action he takes. He continues along the same course for the entire film. Even the movie’s most dramatic moment in the submarine is pasted over with inane dialog and the completion of uninteresting subplots. But that is Steve Zissou. Love him or hate him, that is who he is. He is a bunch of meaningless subplots and facades that cover over the real man deep down. But The Life Aquatic gives us a chance to watch him, and to slowly realize that, in spite of all of that, he is a person. Behind every cliche he utters is a hint of truth. We are meant to see that truth, and even as he does his darnest to ruin it with his misunderstanding, we are meant to slowly see him as a broken person and root for him for solely that reason: he is a person, and deep down, he wants to be better. Themes aside, I think The Life Aquatic is probably Anderson’s funniest movie. It is absolutely beautifully shot, and some of its sequences are incredibly cathartic. If not a thematic powerhouse (or even a stylistic revolutionary) Anderson has crafted non-mainstream films that capture a lot of the innate, animal joy of cinema (slow mo walking to British invasion music, dramatic camera movement, and shots full to brimming with action). He finds the innate joy in objects (like large binoculars and guns). He takes great casts and has them explore strange, unique characters, even if they don’t always work. I think people who look for something else from Anderson’s films miss the point. I feel like each film he makes is a love poem to cinema, and what it can be, and what we enjoy from it. Regardless of how similar they are, or what they are about, they are movies during which I feel comfortable letting myself go. They aren’t stupid or lazy. In fact, I think The Life Aquatic is very ambitious. They are the type of entertainment that I wish there was more of, and it kind of upsets me that this movie was pretty much universally rejected from both sides.
8. Unbreakable (2000)
I am an M. Night Shyamalan apologist. While the world abandons the man they once thought was the next Hitchcock, I refuse to forget the work he pumped out that made them say it. Unbreakable is his best film. It is one of the most immersively stylistic films of the decade. Subtly the best superhero film ever made, it is neither a part of the genre nor a deconstruction. It just is. It is what superhuman dramas could have been had superheroes not demanded big budgets and outlandish action. Really, Unbreakable is more entertaining than all of them. It moves to a beat. It is wonderfully pulpy (with fun performances from Sam Jackson and Bruce Willis). It is shot unlike any other film, its shots ripped right from the frames of a comic book. It’s music scores not a movie but a story. It’s color schemes further manipulate its mystery. It almost feels animated; certainly ethereal. Everything moves to such an otherworldly beat, and yet there is something dramatically human about it. It is down to earth, even while being unlike anything this earth possesses. I suppose that is what all hero stories are; mere imitations of life, sometimes as it should be, sometimes how it shouldn’t. But ultimately we can view it, and as it imitates our world, we benefit from it. Shyamalan found the truth in the superhero, just as he did with the undead in The Sixth Sense and aliens in Signs. In all three cases, it matters not what the genre is, but how the genre impacts the audience.
7. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Film is a medium that combines all of the elements of all the other artistic mediums; there is art, photography, theater, music, and literature. I believe that by combining all of these elements, film has the potential to surpass them all. It rarely does this. However, I think The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford reminds me of the potential of film that no other medium can capture. It feels unlike any film I’ve ever seen. It is almost a museum exhibit. However, (and no offense to the great museums of the world) it would be the best museum exhibit ever. It documents two great historical figures (both featured in the title) with grace and a presiding poetry (one of the best voiceovers in cinema). It brings to the table some of the best (almost showiest) ensembles for its presentations. Roger Deakins provides his camerawork (its the prettiest film I’ve ever seen, almost distractingly so). Nick Cave and Warren Ellis provide the score (ethereal, hauntingly otherworldly, mixing with the voiceover to give the entire film a sense of time and place). The cast features some of the best lead and character actors working today (notably Brad Pitt, Casey Affleck, Sam Rockwell, and Paul Schneider) giving Oscar-y performances (dominated by difficult emotions and powerfully long, intense scenes). Andrew Dominik’s labor of love is one of the great experiences of the cinematic medium. It takes us in and out of the world of the characters, and provides us with so much stunning artistry along the way that I can’t imagine anyone in love with film not immediately seeing Assassination as definitive of what makes it lovable.
6. Shaun of the Dead (2004)
Shaun of the Dead was the cinematic directorial debut of Edgar Wright, the man who I consider the most promising director working today. Wright similarly wrote the screenplay (with the film’s lead, Simon Pegg). His ability to channel the joy of cinema is the best since Tarantino. Shaun is a bit more obvious than Tarantino’s best work, but that doesn’t constitute a fault. Rather, Wright is the voice of a generation that grew up on Tarantino. Unlike Tarantino (who grew up on good cinema) Wright grew up on trash. His movies are loving parodies (almost homages) to that trash. He brilliantly channels what he loves about movies (that supersedes quality in many ways). Like Spaced (the TV show that Wright, Pegg, and co-star Nick Frost were all involved in), Shaun is referential and highly stylized. However, it showcases Wright’s matured sensibilities. Shaun of the Dead is more pointed than any of Spaced was. It forms complete thoughts on friendship and dating (it pitches itself as a romantic zombie comedy [rom-zom-com]). It has more than its fair share of laughs, but it takes this to a new level. Like Sam Raimi, Wright doesn’t settle for laughs. He has to scare us. More than that, every moment of his film must make the audience want to stand up. Rather than just a blend of horror and comedy Wright takes it one step further. The places he takes his characters are shocking. Absurd sequences (like the zombie beating to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now”) hint at Wright’s ability for merely creating wonderful anarchy. All of it combines together for a movie that modernized comedy. Like its followup, Shaun defies definition. More than Hot Fuzz, Shaun maintains an intelligence that constantly reminds me that Wright isn’t just one of the great entertainers of our era; he is one of the great filmmakers.
5. Serenity (2005)
Well, the browncoats lost the war. First the alliance trampled them. Then TV studio execs. And then film audiences. What almost became the defining saga of the 2000’s was stomped to death, and even now, I don’t want to understand. I just want to keep on believing that all the money fans waste on Avatar and Transformers will eventually find its way to Joss Whedon so he can continue the saga that I fell in love with. Serenity may only have been one adventure for Mal, Zoe, Simon, River, Wash, Jane, Inara, Book, and Kaylee, but what a way to go (if they did in fact go). Faced with the impossible task of winning new fans and pleasing old ones, Joss Whedon put together one of the best darn screenplays ever written. It mixed the thoughtful sci-fi of the series’ smartest episodes with the playful humor of its funniest. He packaged it all so it worked for new audiences. He created a great villain in The Operative, and managed to up the scale for every single member of the crew. With a minimal effects budget, he made the money count (the battles in the film are kind of Star Wars meets Pirates of the Caribbean, and it is just a lot of fun to watch). I was brought into the series by Serenity, so I personally can speak to how well it works for uninitiated audiences. However, that’s all kind of moot now. We’ll just have to go back to buying all the new DVD’s in hopes of getting something more. It may not be a lot, but its enough. We might be fighting a battle we’ve already lost, but we’re nerds. We’re known for that.
4. Where the Wild Things Are (2009)
At Christmas, every time I open a gift, regardless of how awesome it is, I am always slightly disappointed that, under that wrapping paper, there isn’t a fresh new box of legos. Over the years, I’ve come to substitute movies as my fun gifts (slightly more practical, and FAR more age appropriate). This is sort of symbolic of the trade I made in my life, as it became apparent that I was growing out of my imagination. I replaced creating my own worlds and playing God with learning the art of storytelling. Movies, with their characters, worlds, and scenarios, are really my last outlet for the freedom of imagination that was once my most treasured asset. What does this have to do with Where the Wild Things Are? Well, assume for a moment that a movie didn’t settle for being a substitute. Imagine, that a passionate, talented, and incredibly daring filmmaker (like Spike Jonze) set out to make a movie that wasn’t a substitute for, but was an actual representation of imagination. Not getting mired down in the bog of restraint that is creativity, Jonze fully delved into a personal place that is a child’s mind, and emerged with something more reminiscent of my time with my legos than anything that has ever been captured on the screen. He looked deep into the soul of a child, and emerged, not just with resonance, but with actual answers. His film is a study of how children use imagination as a coping mechanism and a way of dealing with who they are. He sealed the deal by actually making his “Wild Things” reflect the foils we all create for ourselves. It is a dreamlike, out-of-body experience, that goes beyond the reach of its source material. It might baffle and confuse many audiences, as its structure forgoes the need for narrative in favor of grandeur (only ever in the interest of being what every child wanted their world to be), but I can’t recall having ever been so personally affected by a film.
3. Wall-E (2008)
“From the people who took a movie about a romance between two robots, and crafted the most touching love story of the decade, while simultaneously piecing together no less than a thematic discussion on the meaning of life and place love has in humanity’s true survival, while not only channeling such classics as Star Wars and 2001: A Space Odyssey, but actually surpassing them in many ways (with a near-silent first half hour that, with its use of imagery, character, and even allegory, could be the best half hour in the history of cinema) comes a film that could possibly bring in many of the world’s most talented people (both past and present) like Ben Burt and Roger Deakins, while at the same time utilizing the works of some of the greatest artists in all of history (using Chaplin and Keaton as the prototypes for the silent stars), all the while often engaging in the world of the art film (featuring, at times, real actors, ambiguous thematically important film references, and juxtaposing a dystopian future with a video tape of Hello Dolly and “Put on Your Sunday Clothes”) and yet somehow managing to entertain most children and adults (with the same, time tested jokes, courtesy of the timeless and ageless Chaplin and Keaton, and scaring and emotionally touching all using camera and imagery that hearkens back to all of the great filmmaking over the course of 100 years). The next movie could include all of this. Odds are it might not (no other movie in history has) but the next movie from these guys promises to bring the spirit that created this masterpiece with it, and that promise alone is almost as encouraging as the idea that, after only a decade and a half of films, Pixar might just be getting started (OK. So the last part might not work in the trailer. But I felt that if I was going to run a Pixar motif through this piece [as they have run a quality motif through the decade] I should at least end it on a somewhat reflective note).”
2. No Country for Old Men
I’ve written so much about No Country for Old Men. I take every opportunity I can to tell people that I consider it the height of all cinema. It is the best crafted film of all time, and for it, the Coens are the greatest of modern masters. However, it seems odd to think that it has been over two years since it was released. I saw it 9 times in theaters (and as I often say, I’d still be going if it was still there). I wish I had something I could say that would sum up my love for this film. Here’s my best go at it.
“If all things worked as they should, cinema would mature as time went on, with each filmmaker taking from their predecessors. If that were the case, we would have films that look like No Country for Old Men. It is a film of higher calibre than those it is being released alongside. It feels like the natural conclusion of a cinema evolved through Griffith, Murnau, Hawks, Hitchcock, Kubrick, Scorsese, and even Tarantino. The Coens understand all of film, and they craft their movies around that understanding. However, No Country for Old Men may be the first instance in the filmmakers’ history where they put aside all of their usual idiosyncrasies and focused in solely on creating a perfect film with the voice of the medium. It helps that the book that started the story gave them a worthy voice for such an adaptation (from Cormac McCarthy, a modern master in his own right). The Coens, like McCarthy, believe in describing, not explaining. Everything is there, in perfect order. You need to figure it out. Still, there is the gorgeous aesthetic (the lack of music and the power of sound are both utilized to a paralyzingly haunting effect), the ability to create pitch perfect humor, horror, and excitement at every single spot (and the knowledge of pacing and audience reaction that must have been required to make such a feat formulate into something so stirring) is something I don’t consider any other living filmmaker capable of doing (at least as well as the Coens do it). I’d say it is separate from the Coens’ other work, but as I look back on their stellar canon (boasting such perfect films as Miller’s Crossing and Fargo), all of the elements that make No Country great are all there. They are just finally all forced into one product for this masterpiece of the cinematic medium.”
1. The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003)
Like the two films above, I’ve written a lot about The Lord of the Rings over the years. Before I really loved or understood film, The Lord of the Rings was my favorite set of movies. However, I think that is part of why it has been such an interesting journey. For three years, I ate, drank, breathed, and slept The Lord of the Rings. My Decembers were dominated by three events: my birthday, Christmas, and the release of the next Rings film. Of those three events, I only really spent the entire rest of the year anticipating The Lord of the Rings. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I was even able to start judging them objectively. When that happened, it felt odd. The movies were no longer experiences. They were no longer euphoric expressions of the escapism that helped me get through my growing up years. They were movies, and like all movies, I had to judge and rate them. Little did I know, that was only the beginning. I’ve watched all of the films about five times in the last two years (compared to the forty or fifty times I watched them over the three year span during which they were released). During those five times, my judgment of the films’ place in history has changed. They no longer rank as my favorite films of all time (an honor I first give to Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. and Carl Th. Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc). However, I think that my film experience has allowed me to understand the movies better. Jackson’s place in the filmmaking canon is an interesting one. His storytelling is indulgent, in that it focuses on the little things more often than the big picture. He is not above following twenty or thirty subplots over the course of one film (which still requires he cut about half of the subplots out of each of the series’ three books). However, Jackson’s style (really derived from his B-movie blood-and-guts extravaganzas) translated Tolkien almost word for word. It’s not the same language, but its an easy translation, and one that maintains much of the poetry that made the original so powerful. Scenes like the one where Bilbo and Gandalf smoke their pipes before the party in Fellowship of the Ring, or where Aragorn and Gandalf discuss the likelihood of Frodo’s survival, aren’t really story moments. They actually slow things down. But they are such gorgeous character moments, and they add so much to the Middle Earth Jackson was trying to create, that they actually become the greatest of the film’s strengths. I’ve come to realize that only a filmmaker obsessed with the minute can create classic grand stories (see David Lean and Quentin Tarantino for other great examples of this). This is the main reason why I favor The Lord of the Rings over even the Star Wars saga. Star Wars is manufactured for optimal entertainment. By definition, it doesn’t have the heart that Lord of the Rings has. At the end of the day, when I take the DVD out of the player, Han, Luke, and Leia are all characters that leave with the movie. When I leave The Lord of the Rings, Sam, Frodo, Aragorn, and Gandalf are almost friends, who I don’t feel like parting with. They’re mine, I found them. They came to me (Okay. I’ll stop. There's no need to get angry). They are parts of me. They don’t feel like they were crafted characters in a script. They feel like they are actually real people in a real world. A world that reflects many of the thoughts and fears I too share. A world so visceral, that no matter how old I am, I can still revisit it, and fall in love with it over and over again.
