Decade in Review

I considered putting this in the 10 Best Films of the Aughts thread, but it's really a different kind of thing. I was hoping the thread could be a repository for anything from a list of favorites, to your decade's end "awards", thoughts about how the last ten years in film has impacted you, etc.

I decided to write up (with a partial assist from some of my earlier posts) my favorite films of the decade, and I got to 25-ish before I decided to stop. Some of the thoughts are really simple and short, others a little more elaborate. It became much longer than I originally anticipated- another reason for the new thread.

I realized after making this list that I don't have any films for '09 on it. So I'll throw The Hurt Locker in haphazardly at number 26.. Or maybe Inglourious Basterds...

25) LET THE RIGHT ONE IN- The main ideas are vampirism and being allowed entrance. In a relationship, there will always be an element of exploitation. Advantage will be taken, but it cannot exist without the other party's consent. The movie feels wonderfully neutral, with no judgment passed on the nature of Eli and Oskar's relationship. Not that there aren't motivations to analyze, or conclusions to be drawn. Obviously this probably isn't going to work out well for Oskar in the long run. Just that what an outsider thinks is healthy, or loving, or beneficial to two people who make the choice to live for each other is irrelevant.



24) GERRY- There's something very powerful about the idea of getting truly lost in America. It's fascinating to see something familiar made alien by context.

In a way the same trick is played with the dialogue. The conversations were not nonsensical at all, but word choice and a lack of exposition made them seem absurd. For example, when Gerry tells Gerry that he conquered Thebes, you know he's talking about a video game, but the lack of introduction to the subject, the sense of eavesdropping combined with the setting give the lines an almost allegorical quality.

By the end, as the two Gerrys are desperately wrestling in the empty desert, I was left feeling like the film was some sort of combination of Samuel Beckett and Kafka. A completely disorienting and haunting experience.



23) ELEPHANT/LAST DAYS- I love that Van Sant takes two of the biggest circuses of the past generation and uses them to subvert media-driven expectations and explore, of all things, what is unknowable.

It's important to note this is not the same thing as saying there are no answers. Indeed, in both cases there are potential answers everywhere. But the public, and the media specifically, attack the events as *issues* that need to be boiled down to some sort of essence that is just not there. There is never one thing, or even a series of things, that clearly define the gap between reason and action.

In Elephant, we see the killers watching Hitler on the History Channel and playing violent video games. But one also plays Beethoven on the piano. If we're going to ask if Marilyn Manson might have had some influence on the massacre, why not wonder if Beethoven was as well? Is his music less stirring?

In Last Days, instead of character development, we're given, in a sense, character decay. We're pushed further and further back. Literally- in the case of films most famous scene- the camera is positioned outside Blake's house, and slowly pulled away as he constructs a barrier of sound between himself and the outside world.



22) Yi Yi- I have trouble getting people to watch this. If you have, or have ever had, y'know, family- then you would probably like this movie a whole bunch.



21) DOGVILLE- Breaking the Waves felt like a provocative take on the nature of sacrifice, and ultimately sainthood. What seemed transgressive actually never veered outside of the lines. Bess was loyal to her husband, obedient, and gave of herself fully- and in the end, miraculously, as she died, he was cured.

Dogville, in a very different way, seems to do the same thing with concepts of charity, divine grace, and justice. von Trier weaves a poltical and religious allegory that holds our feet to the fire on our record of mistreatment of the poor and the downtrodden, as well as the small minded pettiness that is so pervasive, especially in small town America. He is essentially asking us, if we look into our own souls, are we worth saving?

In a cinematic gesture the equal of Quentin Tarantino's "face of Jewish vengeance", von Trier casts Sonny Corleone as a gangster Old Testament God, who convinces Grace that the people have rejected her, and that it would be more arrogant to not hold us to her standards than it would be to punish us.

As the town is burned, it calls to mind 9/11. And while that is highly provocative, I never got the sense that von Trier was crassly equating that Old Testament justice with those events. Instead it seemed to be about the things we have squandered as a country, and the arrogance to think this could never happen to us.

20) BURN AFTER READING- What at first blush might seem like a minor effort is really a precisely calculated "thriller" that's probably every bit as tight as No Country. The conventions of the espionage film are employed to clever effect not as a send up of the genre, but as a satire of a much bigger target. One could read the film as an indictment of American intelligence (in both senses of the word) in the Bush era. I think the film works best as a statement about the absurdity of existence, as illustrated by comic buffoons whose greed and petty desires serve little purpose but to make things worse for everyone involved.

Two brilliantly set up jokes that, to me, are the movie in a nutshell: First, Harry Pfarrer's mysterious basement construction project, which turns out to be a dildo machine. A hilariously sad gesture undoubtedly motivated by his extreme guilt for constantly cheating on his wife- while she, of course, is cheating on him as well. The second is how long it takes (about five minutes) for Harry's previously bragged about muscle memory to kick in... right before he blasts the face off Chad, who, like the picture itself, grins like a glorious idiot in the face of oblivion.



19) GHOST WORLD- It's funny how often people begin a discussion of Ghost World by talking about the ending... which is really a beginning.

Have you ever noticed that young people in movies often feel like they are speaking in the voice of the adult writing them? How about the cliche of the kid who has it all figured out, and teaches the adult a lesson in the end? These examples are why a little honesty in a film often feels like a breath of fresh air. In reality, while adults often don't know much more than kids, we at least usually know enough to realize nobody has all the answers.

One of the greatest things about Ghost World is the way it addresses this discrepancy. It puts us in the middle of the lives of Enid and Becky- two literally too cool for school girls who think they have everything figured out, right when they're at a point they're going to find out they don't know what they thought they knew.

But it doesn't begin there. Instead, it draws us into their world... which is admittedly a pretty interesting place. The girls are smart, precocious, snarky, hip people you'd probably enjoy hanging around (assuming they enjoyed hanging around you.)

But as Becky starts to drift off into a squarer life than Enid had planned for either of them, Enid has to figure out where she is going. She has been comfortable on the sidelines- looking at everything ironically, laughing at the average person's stupidity. The problem is she has no idea where to go from there. She only knows she wants something different, hopefully better than what Becky is headed towards.

Which brings us back to the bus. For me the important thing about the bus is not where it is going, but that Enid assumed it wasn't even running. In the end, when it shows up, she realizes it's time to get on and see where she goes from here.



18) BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN- Once again Ang Lee explores repression and its effects in a specific cultural context. The story of Ennis and Jack is moving and tragic, and its power accumulates as the film goes on. It's a slow burner, but it gets you in the end.

What really elevates the film, though, is the character of Ennis Del Mar. Ledger's performance is perfectly modulated brilliance, and he and Lee do nothing less than redefine a classic American archetype.

Quite the opposite from the idea of the rebellious, laconic loner, he is actually paralyzed by fear and held in check by a society that demands he act in a certain way. Instead of a man of few words who speaks with his actions, Ennis is a character who is unable to speak or act on what he wants.

His dreams and desires could have been anything that society looked down upon or denied him. The disconnect from what he wants and what he feels he can have is tremendously painful to watch.



17) THERE WILL BE BLOOD- The one thing I knew when I read the script was that Daniel Day-Lewis would fucking nail the milkshake line. What I didn't realize was just how much depth there was to Plainview.

Daniel is undeniable, a force of nature. He does what he does because he can't do anything else. What he leaves in his wake is both good and bad, but that's all but irrelevant to him. Still, Anderson and Day-Lewis find the humanity buried deep within this larger than life figure. When he sits near a dying fire after just having murdered a man he thought was his brother, those fading embers are like the last remnants of his withered soul being snuffed out. The image is almost apocalyptic.

The film contains what may be my favorite image of the decade- when Daniel checks the oil covered bit and shoots his black hand into the air.



16) FOTR:EE- To be honest, the theatrical cut didn't wow me. With the additional footage, the movie seemed to have room to breathe. I haven't gone back to revisit the original version, but I don't see a need to. This is really the only cut of any film in the trilogy that I unabashedly love, as the series begins to feel a bit ragged as it goes on. But this one gets almost everything right. Very little bloat, tedious exposition, redundancy, cheesiness. McKellan and Bean really shine. The opening in the Shire. Moria. Maybe there are better films that could go in this spot, but Jackson and company get so much right in a genre where so many have failed to produce anything worthwhile, let alone magical.



15) KILL BILL- This might be oversimplifying it, but if Reservoir Dogs established Tarantino's voice, Pulp Fiction established the way he likes to tweak genre, Jackie Brown established that he is a great writer/director for women, then Kill Bill brought it all together- adding a new element that he continues in Basterds, a sort of cross pollination of genres.

The dinner table scene is so great. In a way it denies us what we've been expecting, yet reveals with such simplicity what the movie is really about. At the heart of this ode to revenge films is a brutally honest look at two people ending a relationship.

As an aside, while I was watching the middle of the predictable and boring remake of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I couldn't help but think of that scene, and the people who were disappointed by the lack of a big final showdown. I imagine they liked the "you hated my meatloaf? I'ma shoot you in the face!" version of two assassins breaking up more than QT's elegant finish.



14) ZODIAC/MEMORIES OF MURDER- A bit of a cheat, here. Memories of Murder is probably the better film, the more moving experience, but for whatever reason I connected with Zodiac a little more. Maybe because of my familiarity with the setting, or because of the parallels to America post 9/11. I don't mean to equate the two films, but when I think of one I can't help but think of the other.



13) A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE- Cinematic sleight of hand of the highest order. Cronenberg presents a portrait of an idyllic, small-town American family, and then begins painting over it in broad, bloody brushstrokes. Without feeling like he is preaching, the film makes us wonder why we are entertained by this. Like the best of Lynch, it looks underneath the surface of American society and finds something darker.

But the real kicker is the ending... this is where the magic comes in. The final, wordless scene is like nothing we have experienced in the film before. As the daughter hands her father his dinner plate, we get a sense of routine, of ritual. As his son passes the food, his face betrays something we never saw him feel before with his dad... fear? resentment? As husband and his wife stare at each other, she seems just as likely to kick him out as let him stay.

It took me a minute to wrap my head around what I was feeling, but I realized, for the first time, the family felt real. There was a sense of anger, fear, disconnection, resentment... all of the things that were missing before. It was a chilling effect. The film is, in essence, saying that this is who we really are. It was not about the violence shattering the family. It was about violence being essential to its make up.




12) THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD- Maybe it was a stroke of genius casting an actor who had lived in the shadow of his more famous older brother as the fame hungry Bob Ford, opposite one of the most famous movie stars on the planet as his outlaw hero. Or maybe it was just a little meta nod. Or, you know, none of that nonsense. Anyway, it worked. Affleck gives the performance of the decade.

The film is not what I was expecting. It's much more quiet, lyrical, and haunted. Almost as if the characters are already ghosts. Prisoners of history.

In the film's greatest scene, James and the brothers Ford resignedly walk as if to marks on a stage for the inevitable assassination. And later, when Bob is actually on stage recreating his infamous act, he is heckled mercilessly. As he leaps from the bright lights into the darkness- the film perfectly punctuates the twisted ignominy of his fate.



11) ADAPTATION- I almost think this film, like Memento, gets penalized for being too clever in its construction. The final act is set up perfectly, and can be read hopefully or with tremendous cynicism depending on how you look at it. The film is really rich, Cage, Streep and Cooper are phenomenal, and in some ways I think this is the funniest film of the decade.

10) CITY OF GOD- A tremendously energetic and propulsive film that conveys the danger and desperation of growing up in such circumstances, but also manages the winsome and whimsical qualities of the best coming of age stories.



9) OLDBOY- I had heard a lot, went to lengths I normally don't go to see it as soon as I could, had a ton of expectations, and was probably focusing too much on those when the film threw me a curveball. Oh Dae-Su was suddenly set free from his prison. Surprise. This is not what I was expecting. As he emerged from that suitcase, I left my baggage behind.

Yet it began to dawn on me that I did have a (sinking) feeling where this was going. What I thought was going to be about revenge was actually about knowing the truth- no matter what the cost, no matter how painful. Oh Dae-Su was like a man stumbling through a dense thicket toward some light, even as he must have known that light might be an oncoming truck.

The Mido situation was devastating, to be sure, but something I'm honestly puzzled more people apparently didn't see coming. Of course it went to that place. The film was about facing even the ugliest of truths. For him, and us, it was about facing what we dread. And then, in the end, making the choice to forget it if we can, and ignore it if we must. To smile... to live with it....



8) CHILDREN OF MEN- Cuaron's direction is legendary. The way he uses the camera, the long tracking shots immersing you in the action, frames that are packed with information. Such a great job of visual storytelling. The adaptation is a tremendous elevation of the source material. Very relevant to the world we live in. Clive Owen does Bogart proud as the new century's Rick Blaine.



7) MULHOLLAND DR.- The film that really turned me on to David Lynch. I don't really see a point in trying to describe my reaction to something so singular. Perhaps silencio is best.



6) ETERNAL SUNSHINE- Might not be entirely accurate, but I like to think of this as the thinking person's romantic comedy. Not because it's clever, hip, original, and bittersweet- even though it's all those things. But because it celebrates what is truly special about being in love. Not greeting card happiness, or even the intense highs and lows of a passionate relationship. Eternal Sunshine shows us the best part of being in love is that, despite that we live counter to this in almost every way, it allows us, perhaps forces us, to embrace the moment. Which is really the only thing we ever have.



5) SPIRITED AWAY- What every children's film should aspire to be. A perfect mix of the beautiful, the grotesque, and the whimsical.



4) IRREVERSIBLE- The backwards telling is not anywhere near the intricate puzzle of Memento. Instead it serves a simpler purpose- to isolate each occurance from its antecedent. As the film unfolds (folds?) we are forced to confront only what occurs in the moment. Eventually, as we learn what came before, the outrage and even desire for violence the audience might normally feel if the film was told chronologically is replaced by a more appropriate sadness and lament. Because no act of violence or retribution can return what has been lost.

A lot has been made of the methods used by Noe to provoke the audience. Most notably the subsonic noise and the long and brutal rape scene. But there is a small moment, one some people might actually miss, that shows this is the work of someone genuinely concerned and outraged by human behavior.

During the rape, while we are feeling about as awful as we could possibly feel, a small, dark silhouette appears at one end of the red corridor. For the briefest moment, we allow our minds to imagine that this person might actually help the woman being destroyed right before our eyes. And then, in what is probably the most chilling thing I have ever seen in a movie, the silhouette recedes back into the darkness, doing nothing. This type of horror happens every day, and in our passivity are we not somewhat complicit?



3) IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE- In a way I liken it to what's so special about Goodfellas, because it's so much about the feel of the piece, the sense of time and place, and the rhythms. It's like a symphony. As much as the film is a classic of love unfulfilled, it also taps into the power of nostalgia and memory like no other film this decade.



2) MEMENTO- Still the most dazzling first viewing I've ever had. And even on subsequent viewings: the narrative mastery, the dark humor, Pearce, Moss, and Joey Pants have never been better... the film holds up. But back to that first viewing, as the feelings of sadness and loss gave way to something that cut even deeper. Being left with a sense of utter emptiness and despair as the film lays bare the lengths we will go, and the lies we must tell ourselves to find purpose and keep going.

When I think of the film, I remember that polaroid of Leonard after he killed one of his John G's. Pointing at himself, bloody, crazed, and momentarily happy.



1) NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN- Thrillers should be about economy, and this one is as tight as it gets. It's a great, faithful adaptation of Cormac McCarthy, while still feeling quintessentially Coen. It's both terrifying and funny.

In what is surely the greatest moment of Josh Brolin's career, and second only to marrying Diane Lane in his entire life, his character, Llewellyn Moss, finds a satchel full of drug money, pauses to contemplate exactly the world of shit he's about to enter into, and says simply, "Yeah." (Incidentally, the best use of the word yeah in a film since Unforgiven. Look it up.)

It's a fool's chance, but he can't help but take it. He allows himself that one moment of contemplation, but from then on he puts his head down and refuses to accept what's coming for him. Even though he is constantly losing ground, he must believe he can get away with it. But he is simply staving off the inevitable, lasting for as long as he is able. Removed from the comfort of our couches, that sounds a hell of a lot like the nature of things.

Ed Tom Bell's charge is to protect people like Moss, but realistically what can he do against the tide of violence and death? It's not even that he is just one man, it's that he doubts the very authority given to him. After all the senseless acts he has seen, he has come to fear that his idea of justice might be a joke. And if that's the case, it opens up all kinds of other thoughts that trouble him...

Which brings us to Anton Chigurh- who is both the embodiment of the inevitable for Moss, and what Bell fears the most. But what is his nature? The film seems to toy with ideas that he is both an unstoppable force and/or a sort of specter. But that would let us off too easily. In reality Chigurh is a man, perhaps the only man in the film who has stared into the abyss the others are refusing to face. He is clearly mad, but he has steeled himself against the harsh realities of the universe, and in doing so has emerged as a self styled agent of fate. Ostensibly he works for drug dealers, but he has no loyalty, and he's not in it for the money. He is putting himself in the middle of the violence to test himself. And if you're unlucky enough to cross his path, how can you possibly gainsay him? He is raising the gun, aiming it at you, pulling the trigger... what about this is unclear, or deniable?

Favorite performances of the decade:

Casey Affleck- The Assassination of Jesse James

Daniel Day-Lewis- There Will Be Blood/ Gangs of New York

Heath Ledger- Brokeback Mountain

Guy Pearce- Memento

Kang-ho Song- Memories of Murder

Tony Leung- In The Mood For Love

Maggie Cheung- In The Mood For Love

Samantha Morton- Morvern Callar

Kate Winslet- Eternal Sunshine

Laura Linney- You Can Count on Me

Naomi Watts- Mulholland Dr.

Hae-sook Kim- Thirst

Well, for one thing I get the feeling that von Trier, ever the provocateur, was cultivating that sort of label. I remember in the lead up to the film, all the articles I read mentioned that he had never been to America, and instead of saying the obvious, that one doesn't need to visit a country to criticize it, I got the feeling he was enjoying bringing out the hypocrisy of those who made an issue of it.

As feel bad as the credits are, as much as the use of the Bowie song juxtaposed with those images function as an attack on our record, I don't feel like it's any more incendiary than the stuff he's implying with the film. In fact, I think it's much less. The credits are Michael Moore level tweaking. The film is much more sophisticated, though not necessarily any less subtle. I do agree the message, such as it is, could be applied elsewhere, but I don't think there's any doubt Dogville is America.