I began typing up my mandatory "best of/worst of" list on January 10th. It was nearly complete when Blogger ate my unfinished post, casting it into oblivion. I was so dejected, I fell into a deep depression. Only now have I begun to crawl out of my own personal pit of despair, to return to this fool's errand some folks call "a blog".
I don't remember a single blessed word I previously wrote regarding my lists. I only know that there were lots of words. Perhaps too many. I do know that what I had previously written was pretty damned good. I was very impressed with my work, which is a rarity for me. Blame our friends at Blogger for what is surely a great loss to humanity and weep.
I will now attempt to re-create my previous post, and I'm sure it will be a trainwreck. But that is par for the course, here.
ACTIVATE FENDERMAN-TRON LIST-O-RAMA 2011 EDITION!!!
The Best Examples Of The Moving Picture As An Artform
10) Contagion
Steven Soderbergh is a treasure. He has this uncanny ability to effortlessly segue between well-made, mainstream crowdpleasers (Erin Brockovich, Out Of Sight, Oceans 11), layered and often challenging independent productions (Che, Bubble, The Limey), and strange animals that defy definition (Schizopolis). He makes it look easy.
He's making a Liberace biography this year! I hate Liberace, but I am eagerly awaiting this production. Only Stephen Soderbergh could get me excited about a Liberace movie, and I love him for that. I love him for a lot of reasons, Contagion being the latest.
Apparently, Soderbegh took a gander at those big-budget Irwin Allen productions from the 1970's, mainly all-star disaster epics like The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno, and decided he'd like to make one of those. Only he'd actually make a good one for a change.
Contagion is the definition of 'subtlety'. There are no loud action setpieces, no shootouts, and there is no clumsy stuntcasting. The closest we get to the latter is a brief appearance by comedian Demitri Martin, and he never even utters one joke! The movie defies the conventions of the genre, avoiding manufactured drama in favor of realistic tension.
Two examples: First, The CDC orders that only laboratories with a certain security level be allowed to experiment with the virus, lest a slip-up expose even more people to this new plague. A scientist close to making a breakthrough is told to destroy his viral sample and discontinue his research. He quietly refuses.
A lesser movie would exploit this plot, most likely through a tragic lab accident, and the scientist would die a victim of his own hubris. But in Contagion, our scientist lives to make his breakthrough, which eventually leads to the development of a vaccine.
Second, a recently widowed father (Matt Damon) is faced with the task of protecting his daughter in a community that is quickly coming unraveled. One night he witnesses a break-in across the street, followed by gunshots. The next day, he procures a firearm of his own to ensure the safety of what remains of his family.
A lesser movie would eventually have this family come under threat by one or more desperate individuals, and the father would be forced to protect his daughter by any means necessary. But Matt Damon never fires his gun in Contagion. He's never forced into that situation.
Does that make the movie any less exciting? Hell no. There are other, more sophisticated ways of building tension, and Steven Soderbergh knows them all.
The film's villain is the titular contagion, and it makes a formidable adversary despite the fact that it's a microscopic virus. The camera lingers on seemingly innocuous objects like doorhandles and cash registers, and the audience is made to imagine the deadly infectious agent squirming upon their surfaces. The haunting electronic score by Cliff Martinez serves as a character in its own right, building a palpable sense of dread, serving to anthropomorphize an invisible enemy.
This is a sophisticated mainstream thriller that doesn't insult its audience, a rarity in this day and age. And Steven Soderbergh made it look easy.
9) Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes
I'm a pretty big fan of the Planet Of The Apes saga. I have been for as long as I can remember. When I purchased the Blu-Ray collection of the original 5 film collection, I watched them all in one marathon setting, rekindling my love for this very weird and surprisingly clever franchise.
On one occasion, I began to ramble incessantly about these films for no discernable reason to my cousin Ky, and after about 15 minutes I noticed his facial expression, which was a delightful mixture of sheer boredom and rapidly growing annoyance. Then I shut my trap. He didn't share my unhealthy love for these films, and that saddened me.
After the maddeningly terrible Tim Burton-directed re-boot from 2001, I didn't hold out much hope for another good entry in this franchise. How could it happen? Then some director I've never heard of named Rupert Wyatt came along and made Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes.
This movie isn't just good. It's really good. The performance capture work is superb, allowing Andy Serkis to deliver a nuanced and genuine performance as Caesar, the ape destined to lead a revolution that will change the planet forever. And surprisingly enough, Rise fits the franchise mold relatively well, balancing the very serious story with some very over-the-top moments, mostly contained within the sequences involving the ape sanctuary in which Caesar is eventually imprisoned. Yet it never descends into the ridiculous.
It was great seeing John Lithgow on the big screen again. He's a very talented and versatile actor, and his performance here is fantastic. It's a relatively small role, but it's the crux of the entire plot. James Franco was motivated to save his brilliant father from succumbing to Alzheimer's disease. This story hit me pretty hard for personal reasons, and I was incredibly moved by John Lithgow's heartbreaking performance as a man slowly but inexorably slipping away, losing a bit more of himself each day.
Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes was a huge surprise for me. I went in expecting something passable, and I came out thrilled at having my expectations shattered.
8) The Rum Diary
Most people didn't see this movie. They just seemed to ignore it. And most people who did see it seemed to dislike it. I don't know what's wrong with these people. I had a great time watching The Rum Diary.
Based on a book written by Hunter S. Thompson in 1961, it remained unpublished until Johnny Depp found the manuscript in the basement of Thompson's home in 1998. The film adaptation became a passion project for Depp, who had been working to get the project off the ground for a decade. He finally convinced Bruce Robinson, the director of two of my favorite movies of all time (Withnail & I and How To Get Ahead In Advertising) to step out of 19 years of semi-retirement to write and direct the adaptation. And I absolutely love it.
The languid pacing and episodic structure of the film were seen by many critics as a detriment, but iI had absolutely no problems with this. It's not a story about any one thing. There's no real "A" plot. It's a somewhat fictionalized and fragmented representation of the short and chaotic period of time that turned a naive young sportswriter named Hunter Thompson into the legend that is Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo Journalist.
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| This guy. |
Also, the movie is hilarious.
7) The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
I've never read any of the late Stieg Larsson's "Millennium Trilogy" novels. I've never wanted to.
There seem to be two camps concerning the books: the people who love them and see them as smartly written thrillers with a complex lead character in Lisbeth Salander, and the people who deride the books as trash, the logical successor to Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code in terms of literary value, with a lead character that represents nothing more than a damaged fantasy girl for the author.
I own the original Swedish film trilogy, and after watching them all early last year I can see where both sides are coming from. Ultimately I'm somewhere in the middle, enjoying all three of the films without feeling strongly one way or another.
As far as The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo goes, the overall plot is hardly amazing, but it's enjoyable in a slightly trashy way. Yes, the protagonist is clearly an idealized stand-in for the author, but Stephen King does the same damned thing in seemingly every story he pens, so it's really not a deal-breaker. The central mystery is revealed to be rather weak when scrutinized. The antagonist is obvious from his introduction. I think the Da Vinci Code comparison is apt. Both stories contain "sweeping conspiracies" with our protagonists following a treasure trail of ludicrous clues leading to a big "earth-shattering" conclusion.
Both of these stories are what I like to call "supermarket smart". Not-particularly-voracious readers hear about these thrillers filled with twists and turns, danger and intrigue, along with a generous helping of controversial elements that ruffle the feathers of various morality groups, so they buy them while grocery shopping.
They take them home, crack them open, and are treated to a story that seems complicated, but is honestly anything but. They don't feel like their intelligence has been insulted; rather, they're often pleased that they were at times able to figure out the plot twists before the protagonists of the story. In the end, the consumer believes that this disposable piece of entertainment is more than the sum of its parts, so they tell their friends about this thrilling page-turner, and the cycle continues.
So why did The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo work for me where The Da Vinci Code didn't?
The Da Vinci Code, for all its sizzling heretical content, bored me to tears. I could not give two shits about boring Robert Langdon, the most ineffectual "hero" I may have ever come across, and his dreadfully dull quest. None of the characters endeared themselves to me. The plodding dialogue and idiotic story nearly put me to sleep.
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo worked not because of its dumb plot, but because of its characters. I liked Mikael Blomkvist, the character. He wasn't a "cool guy", but the actor (Michael Nyqvist) played him with a very relatable awkward charm. He felt like a real human being, not a cypher designed to spout poorly-written exposition. And I found Lisbeth Salander to be a rather complex and intriguing individual, not deserving of the "author's wank material" stigma.
If any other two characters were at the center of this narrative, it simply wouldn't have worked for me. I never would have made it through the whole movie. Compelling characters make all the difference.
From my research (Wikipedia!), I see that the Swedish film version is a very faithful adaptation of the original novel, aside from some interesting changes in the character of Lisbeth Salander. The book ends with Lisbeth realizing that she loves Mikael Blomkvist, buying him an Elvis poster (?) as a gift. But when she sees him on his way out with his sometime-girlfriend Erika Berger, she trashes the poster and disappears into the snowy night, heartbroken.
This is a pretty big mark in the "fantasy girl" column for the detractors. But this moment never occurs in the Swedish film. Aside from their one sexual encounter in the confines of an isolated cabin, Lisbeth never shows much of a physical interest in Mikael. She grows to enjoy his company, but ultimately, she never seems to see him as anything more than a trusted friend.
This was a change that I wasn't aware of until later, and it made the Swedish film seem more... realistic, I suppose.
Usually I'm against American remakes of foreign films. What's the point? Just watch the original film. Don't be afraid of the subtitles, asshole! But in this case, I was actually excited. David Fincher was directing! Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross were providing the score! The trailers showed off some sleek and moody cinematography that the Swedish production could only dream of!
And when I sat down on Christmas Day to watch the film in a darkened theatre, I was not disappointed. It's all about presentation, folks. David Fincher gathered a fantastic cast and crew for this production, and they all served to... say it with me, now... elevate the source material! I was hooked from the beginning, with the "James Bond movie on hard drugs" opening titles sequence set to a great cover of Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" by Reznor & Ross, with Karen O on vocals. It's somewhat incongruous with the narrative that follows, but I appreciated it.
The film itself is beautiful to look at, courtesy of frequent Fincher collaborator Jeff Cronenweth. The score by blood brothers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is a more subtle and more sinister animal than their previous work on The Social Network, dealing primarily in ambient music that blends into the background, creating a palpable feeling of dread and dismay. There are times when the music fades in and out, cleverly integrating itself into the overall sound design, rather than a full-blown musical score.
The principal cast is operating at the top of their game. I love Daniel Craig in this, playing a guy James Bond would probably call a "nerd". I thought Nyqvist was good, but Craig blows him out of the water. I especially enjoyed the way he would occasionally let his glasses dangle by their earpieces, swinging under his jaw while he scrutinized a document. I've never seen anybody do that in a film before, but it's something I actually do quite often. I thought I was the only guy who did that. It's nice to be validated.
But I would be remiss if I didn't mention Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander. Noomi Rapace never really impressed me in the Swedish film. I was never fully convinced by her "punk attitude" persona. It seemed like a put-on at times, like she was pretending to be a counter-culture rebel, playing dress-up, as it were. But Rooney Mara completely immersed herself in this role. I never had any issues believing her performance as Lisbeth. She came across as a genuinely damaged individual who simply didn't care about how she presented herself to others. It's an utterly fearless performance, and she floored me.
The only real problem I have with the movie is the ending, which plays almost beat-for-beat from the novel, with a love-sick Lisbeth tossing her gift to Mikael (at least it's a cool leather jacket in the movie) in the garbage before riding her motorcycle off into the cold Stockholm night. I preferred the Swedish film's ending, which is actually the only aspect of the original production I can say I enjoyed more.
Overall, I think David Fincher's adaptation is a superior movie, and it had no trouble holding my undivided attention throughout its nearly 3 hours, which is quite a feat, considering I had been awake for nearly two days beforehand. Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.
6) Hugo
Martin Scorsese's next movie after Shutter Island was set to be an adaptation of a children's book. A 3-D adaptation of a children's book. This did not compute. What the hell was going on? Did the old maestro finally go insane? I was not familiar with Brian Selznick's book, The Invention Of Hugo Cabret, so I had no idea what this movie adaptation was really about. There seemed to be some kind of clockwork robot in the trailer, and I caught a glimpse of Sacha Baron Cohen dressed up like some kind of authority figure with a very neat moustache.
This was enough for me to take a chance on Hugo. It's a Martin Scorsese picture, for crying out loud! Whether or not I was excited to see it, I was going to see it. In 3-D, despite my misgivings with the format. Marty had to know what he was doing, right?
And holy shit, he did. This is the story about an orphaned boy (Asa Butterfield) living in a Paris railway station, secretly maintaining the clocks in lieu of his dead uncle, but his real obsession is the clockwork man his late father had been restoring before his own untimely death. Wow, this Hugo kid has it pretty rough. Maybe he was cursed by a witch.
At any rate, Hugo continues to work on the automaton, slowly restoring it to working order, confident that when it is complete it will relay a message from his late father. He meets the proprietor of a toy store named Georges (Ben Kingsley), and becomes the old man's reluctant assistant, while forming a close friendship with the old man's niece (Chloe Moretz).
But none of that's important. I mean, it is important, but it's not what the film's really about.Well, I suppose that is what the movie is about, but...
Fuck it, Hugo is about movies. Cinema! The movie is a loveletter to the medium.
The old man is Georges Méliès, one of the pioneers of the motion picture. An amateur magician and passionate artist, Méliès took advantage of this exciting new world, mystifying and delighting audiences with his cinematic prestidigitation. His brand-new techniques were so well-received that a new term was coined to describe the man: Cinemagician.
Without Georges Méliès and his talent, passion, and innovation, motion pictures would certainly not be what they are today. He set the original standard. Every director in the business owes this man a debt. Méliès showed the world the potential of this new celluloid curiosity. He brought dreams to life, and his work has continued to inspire a multitude of fledgling filmmakers to follow their own dreams.
And in Hugo, Martin Scorsese has crafted an elegant and moving accolade to Georges Méliès and his life's work. It was such a treat to see a sampling of the man's work on the big screen, and in 3-D, no less. During this 3rd act montage, where the surviving films of Méliès are screened before an appreciative audience, I was genuinely touched, almost moved to tears.
This is why I go to the cinema. Entertainment in and of itself is a valuable thing, but making a personal connection with a film is rare and priceless.
5) The Adventures Of Tintin
I used to watch The Adventures Of Tintin after school on HBO when I was a kid. I've always had a soft spot for the intrepid boy reporter and his alcoholic sea captain pal. When this project was announced a while back, with Stephen Spielberg and Peter Jackson joining forces to bring Tintin to the big screen, I noticed the lack of enthusiasm from American sources. Most people in the United States have no idea who Tintin is. The phenomenon never really caught on west of the Atlantic ocean, so most folks around here met this news with a resounding shrug.
Not me. I thought it was a dream come true. I was a little hesitant to discover that the inevitable movie was set to be a motion capture production, however. Robert Zemeckis and his work with ImageMovers Digital had made me very wary of the process.
I could never make it to the end of The Polar Express because the character models seemed lifeless and creepy. Beowulf had a good story, but the technology still presented a problem. Zemeckis insisted on creating the digital characters in the likeness of their live-action performers, which presented a serious barrier for me. The death mask representations of Ray Winstone, John Malkovich, Angelina Jolie, Robin Wright and Anthony Hopkins kept me at arm's length. I couldn't enjoy the movie because the tools Zemeckis used to bring it to life served to alienate me.
This is what nightmares are made of.
And with his adaptation of A Christmas Carol, I became convinced that the director was just fucking with me. Why was Bob Cratchitt a midget wearing Gary Oldman's face? That was just disturbing.
But I'll be a monkey's uncle, The Adventures Of Tintin does motion capture right. This movie takes the tools that Robert Zemeckis essentially created and shows the world how to use them properly. A little late for Zemeckis, considering ImageMovers Digital collapsed under its own immense financial weight after their last film (Mars Needs Moms) committed suicide at the box office.
I imagine Robert Zemeckis watching The Adventures Of Tintin in a darkened theatre, leaving halfway through and sinking into a deep depression immediately afterward, broken by the knowledge that his old mentor just humiliated him.
The Adventures Of Tintin is a charming and rousing adventure in the mold of Spielberg's older, better Indiana Jones movies, an old-fashioned globe-trotting experience with a wide variety of memorable, colorful characters. This damned movie enchanted me.
Speilberg wisely chose not to have the digital characters resemble the actors in any way, instead creating stylized, slightly cartoonish likenesses that easily avoid the dreaded "uncanny valley" effect.
Mo-Cap King Andy Serkis (a repeat offender) delivers a performance to be savored as Captain Haddock. He serves the role of the comic relief sidekick admirably, but he's actually three-dimensional. I know that sounds like a pun, but I mean it. Haddock is a clown of sorts, but he becomes a well-rounded character as the narrative unfurls, overcoming his tragic past and self-pity to become heroic in his own right. Serkis had me laughing uproariously one minute, then at the verge of tears the next.
There are several innovative and clever scene transitions that had me grinning from ear to ear, seeing the kind of magic a master at his craft can create with a new tool box. The script by Edgar Wright, Joe Cornish and Stephen Moffat (I love those guys) is funny, exciting, and intelligent. John Williams delivers a strong, memorable score that perfectly complements the action on-screen. Just fantastic stuff all around.
This movie represents a high water mark. Not once during the film did the tools and techniques used to bring it life overwhelm the narrative. Spielberg uses these tools wisely, building upon the loose foundation Robert Zemeckis laid down and creating something great.
The Adventures Of Tintin is also another example of 3-D done right. I love how two lauded veteran directors (the other being Martin Scorsese) have released their first 3-D films in the same year, and both films are worth seeing in 3-D. They need to be seen in 3-D. Fuck James Cameron, Spielberg and Scorsese know 3-D.
4) Cave Of Forgotten Dreams
Werner Herzog made a documentary about spelunking one of the most captivating narratives I had the privilege to see this year. Because it's not about a cave. It's about the origins of human creativty. Hugo may be a loveletter to the movies, but Cave Of Forgotten Dreams is a loveletter to the imagination. And (broken record time) it's another example of 3-D done properly from a director new to the medium. This is really the only example of a film I can think of that should be required to see in 3-D.
I adore this movie.
3) Drive
Nicholas Winding Refn, you beautiful bastard. How did you make this amazing movie? I didn't know exactly what to expect when I sat down to watch Drive. The trailers made it out to be some kind of arthouse version of The Transporter, a film I don't particularly like. But I loved Refn's Bronson, and knew there had to be more to the story than that. And guess what?
Drive is just about perfect. I can't think of a single thing that could possibly improve it. On the surface, one could see Ryan Gosling's "Driver" as an anti-hero who eventually finds something worth fighting for, namely protecting the imperiled Irene (Carey Mulligan) from coming to harm at the hands of some truly terrible people. But there's a lot more seething under that surface.
Driver doesn't know how to be a human being. We don't know a blessed thing about his past, but the events in the film imply that it was a rather brutal, violent one. He keeps himself intentionally distant from others, either unable or unwilling to forge any emotional connections. He's only at ease when he's behind the wheel of a car, whether he's stunt-driving for a local film production or acting as the wheelman for lowlife criminals. He's not a person, but a purpose. He drives.
Only after he meets Irene does he begin to demonstrate anything resembling humanity. She stirs something up in him, something that he didn't know he was capable of feeling. And he doesn't know how to process it.
There's a pivotal moment that takes place in an elevator where Driver romantically kisses Irene, then proceeds to engage in a disturbing act of violence that reveals the depths of his monstrous nature, illustrating to Irene, the audience, and even himself that he can never be the man he thinks she deserves. So he embarks on a self-destructive journey to eradicate the people who seek her harm.
Perhaps he fancies himself as the dashing hero on a noble quest to save a damsel in distress, but in reality he's a monster, just as bad (if not worse) than the people he's killing.
The final scene in the film shows a possibly-mortally-wounded Driver behind the wheel of a car while a song by College intones "and you have proved to be a real human being and a real hero", although the events of the film have proven that he's neither. He's a violent creature that merely attempts to condone his hideous impulses with delusions of chivalry. It's a brilliant role, and Ryan Gosling, an actor I've never really noticed before, completely disappears into it.
But he's hardly alone. Director Refn has filled this movie with fantastic actors who turn in truly memorable performances, including the aforementioned Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Ron Perlman, Christina Hendricks, and Albert Brooks playing against type as the most menacing Jewish gangster I'll ever see on film.
The score by Cliff Martinez (this guy again) expertly creates a sense of menace that looms over the film's quieter moments, and the numerous licensed songs perfectly accent the narrative, adding to the feel that the movie is some sort of lost artifact from the 1980's, recently discovered and presented to a modern audience.
On an unrelated note, Frank Capra's grandson is one of the producers of Drive. I just wanted to share that. Fun fact!
This movie is too good to exist. It had to be some kind of fever-induced hallucination. I wouldn't be surprised to shortly wake up in a hospital bed, recovering from severe head trauma, finding myself in a world where Drive was nothing more than a product of my hyperactive imagination.
2) Drive Angry
If you've read my previous review of this film, then you know why it's on this list. If not, then go read my review to find out why. Drive Angry just worked for me. Every damned frame of this completely over-the-top and out-of-its-mind movie delivered. To paraphrase (not-really) fictional funnyman Tracy Jordan, I want to take this movie out behind the middle school and get it pregnant.
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| Nicolas Cage Approves! |
The only reason why it's not my number one pick?
1) The Tree Of Life
This film profoundly affected me in ways I still can't completely articulate. It's not only the absolute best movie I saw in 2011, but one of the best movies I've ever seen, or will likely ever see. A beautiful, haunting meditation on life, death, and the incomprehensibly glorious cosmos in which this unending drama unfolds, The Tree Of Life is an absolute masterpiece.
I will treasure this experience for the rest of my life.
That's it for the best films of 2011, but I shall return shortly to deal with the worst.
People have to know! They have to be warned!
I found this site while searching for reviews of the girl with the dragon tattoo movie. I really like what you had to say. And 'supermarket smart' is a really great phrase. It makes perfect sense too.
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