The town of Dogville is filled with Trump voters. Not merely the aspect of their working class status, but their benevolent condescension to the one that doesn’t belong in the town. Their justification for abuse, for prejudice, for causing trauma, for turning a blind eye. Even the intellectual among them makes logical leaps to justify his actions, which seem all the more anti-intellectual. They are both beholden to a particular system of homemade bureaucracy as well as suspicious of it and anyone else that threatens their way of life. Read the rest of this entry »
Here are my new writerly offerings, because I am unemployed and I live a very exciting life.
Over at Movie Mezzanine, I wrote about one of the best scenes in film last year.
There were snickers in the audience when James Franco began warbling on screen, three balaclava-sporting young women surrounding him at the ivory piano. Such derisive, incredulous laughter is only justified if one hasn’t been investing their attention in what Harmony Korine’s madcap nightmare Spring Breakers has to say. When Britney Spears’s “Everytime” floods the speakers, it’s so gorgeous and alluring, the inherent sadness of the song subverted by playing it over horrific, dreamlike images of empowerment. It’s ironic and cynical and strangely powerful, and certainly one of the most captivating things about Korine’s hallucinatory treatise on youthful indulgence.
I tackled Lars von Trier and Rape Culture.
Lars von Trier wants to hold us accountable. His films sear and contain a rawness that’s rare in cinema. He shows a small town community protecting people who abuse a fugitive, sexually and emotionally, and a religious culture that allows its elders to be dispassionate towards a woman who expresses her sexuality in an unconventional fashion for the love of her husband, subsequently deeming it unworthy of being saved. His fictional congregations do not respect women. They do not abide by the idea that a woman owns her body. They allow men to get away with sexual assault and violence, allowing the women to be dehumanized. They perpetuate this dehumanization through subtle ways, feeling entitled to these women’s bodies. The seemingly meek female protagonists subject to this abuse, though, transcend the very culture that takes advantage of them, revealing its rotten core. The Danish auteur isn’t just being sadistic for his own sake; he confronts it. Lars von Trier is attacking Rape Culture.
I’ve started writing some review over at Under the Radar Magazine, first off with an AIDS drama…
As Pina Bausch once said, “Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost.” Set against the exponentially growing AIDS epidemic in San Francisco in 1985, Chris Mason Johnson settles his eye on the intimacy of dance, the irony of the body and its treatment in dance versus sex, and the gradual paranoia of the era in his film Test.
…and secondly with a cliched, but clever teen sex comedy.
The vague pleasures of Premature are intermittent and inconsistent and fairly conventional, and yet they are there. The story of a young man who gets stuck in a time loop that is only ever reset when he orgasms, the film will probably be tiresomely described as “Groundhog Day meets American Pie”, though this only slightly eclipses the latter for the sheer fact that it seems kind of sincere, despite its vulgarities.
And I’m really happy to announce I’ll be doing a bi-weekly column at SoundOnSight.org about music videos and film. I’m kicking it off with OK GO and a call to conversation.
Just over a week ago, OK GO premiered the video for their new single “The Writing’s on the Wall”. Appropriately, the Internet responded with the expected “oohs” and “ahhs”. But, of the dozen or so articles I checked out regarding the video, said articles were no longer than a couple hundred word blurbs that briefly mentioned that OK Go makes cool videos and this was another one of them. I would not call myself a music connoisseur by any means, but I do adore music and I adore music videos. I think we should talk about them with more respect. Let’s talk about their relationship to film, both formally and textually. Let’s talk about how film informed music video aesthetic and how, subsequently, music video informed film aesthetic. Let’s talk about how directors have jumped back and for between the medium and how that’s affected their overall style. Let’s talk about how music videos are just as interesting a short form cinematic medium as the short film, with a wealth of possibilities to experiment with narrative and style. So, I have this is statement: We Need to Talk About Music Videos and Their Relationship to Film.
Have a good week, folks!
If you haven’t checked out the website Movie Mezzanine, you should. Great website with smart writing and wonderful articles. Today, they released a column with several critics listing their top 10 films of the 2000s, so, naturally, I wanted to jump on the band wagon. This time, I didn’t cheat. So, enjoy, and let me know what you think. I’d write my reasons behind each choice, but a) I’ve done it all for each film in the past (with the exception of, like, two films) and b) I’m super lazy.
- Dogville (2004) | Directed by Lars von Trier
- Mulholland Dr. (2001) | Directed by David Lynch
- There Will Be Blood (2007) | Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
- Memento (2000) | Directed by Christopher Nolan
- In the Mood for Love (2000) | Directed by Wong Kar-Wai
- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) | Directed by Michel Gondry
- 4 Weeks, 3 Months, and 2 Days (2007) | Directed by Cristian Mungiu
- Requiem for a Dream (2000) | Directed by Darren Aronofsky
- Pan’s Labyrinth (2007) | Directed by Guillermo del Toro
- The White Ribbon (2009) | Directed by Michael Haneke
Honorable Mention: King Kong (2005) | Directed by Peter Jackson
I believe in “Intelligent Design”, which is to say I am somewhat a proponent of the Auteur Theory. (Holla, Andrew Sarris!) And when one becomes a semi-proponent of such a theory, they are often inclined to fall in love with the director as much as the work itself. Even if it’s only after one film, if one is so enamored by the precise style, the instantly recognize camera movements, even the name itself, Lord knows said cinephile will be in line for the next film by whatever director they’ve fallen in love with. Such was the case with Andrew Dominik, whose incredible film The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford left me intoxicated. But what happens when that director, well, shall we say, seems to lose his mind in a bizarre mash-up of unclear ideas, hack-y visuality, and heavy handedness? Uh, well, you seem to get Dominik’s extremely disappointing Killing Them Softly, or, as I thought of it, I Have No Idea What I Want to Say or How to Say It.
In Dominik’s Killing Them Softly, which is based on the novel Cogan’s Trade by George V. Higgins, follows a hit man (Brad Pitt), as he follows a couple of people who turned over a card game and made it look like another guy did it (said fellow played by Ray Liotta, which makes one wonder where he’s been all these years). Meanwhile, as Pitt’s hit man talks with various people in bars and cars about the approach, the reason, and the morality of the hits, the two fellows who committed the crime, Frankie (Scoot McNairy) and Russell (Ben Mendelssohn), try, seemingly half heartedly, to avoid the new price on their heads.
I do not believe I have ever watched a film that was so incredibly heavy handed and yet had no idea what it was saying or how to say it. Prior to the official release of the film in the United States, back when it prancing around Cannes and competing for the Palme d’Or, Dominik and his team, whoever they are, decided on a fairly overt Americana theme. This Americana theme, which was not, however, very present in the trailers for the film, seems to try to set up some sort of thematic arc or thesis for the film, but, just as the film itself, it seems to be only vaguely related to the film. Throughout the film, there is a constant presence of some political figure on a TV or disembodied voice on the radio, whether it is McCain, Obama, or even W. Bush, talking about the economy. So, here lies the first problem: Less of a lesson or exercise in self reflexivity, Dominick goes for the heavy handedness outside of the direct dialogue (with the exception of certain scenes and certain pieces of dialogue), and feeds it to the audience in a very strange way. He feeds us his badly constructed lesson like a third party. A part of me would have preferred a Godardian lesson through the characters (knock on wood) as opposed to a fairly lazy attempt at chastising the American people. But, as often as these little sound bites from various political speeches featured on CNN and C-SPAN are there, and as often as they use buzz words like “Economy!” and “Fiscal” and “Community!” and “People!”, Dominik doesn’t really say anything about this. There are vague hints about why he’s trying to say something, with the hit man once or twice tip-toeing towards pontification about America being “a business” and the state of the country, but like an essay without an outline or any real thesis, the heavy handedness just seems loud, obnoxious, and vague. In a way, Killing Them Softly is like Andrew Dominik’s economically aimed, loosely neo-noir version of Dogville (whose thesis is far more clear cut, and yet excellently articulated cinematically). There’s some sort of attempt at juxtaposition in the film, with the gritty and slummy landscape of the gangsters (?) and the immaculate, expensive setting for the hit men. But, again, that try at visual cues does not translate well or effectively. There’s a hint of libertarianism, which left me sitting in the theater wondering, “Did Ayn Rand’s ghost possess Dominik or something?”
I was hoping that if the story was lackluster and all over the place, that at least the visual style would be interesting. And I guess you could call it interesting. Interesting in that it is a train wreck. While The Assassination of Jesse James’ style was refined, gorgeous, and purposefully shot (by Roger Deakins, no less), Killing Them Softly’s cinematography felt like the bastard child of J.J. Abrams, Julian Schnabel, and Guy Ritchie. Granted, some of the scenes do look good, but there is, by no means at all, any kind of consistency to the images on the screen. Nothing seems coherently placed together, its editing just as lackluster. Yes, the slow motion scene where Brad Pitt shoots someone looks pretty great (reminiscent of some of the finer scenes in Guy Ritchie’s adrenaline pumped reboot of Sherlock Holmes), but… why? With Russell’s heroin addict, some of his scenes are straight out of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. And, OH THE LENS FLARE! It’s ironic that so many of the scenes should be dictated less by any real action or purpose or even character and more by music and sound, because a short film I recently made (which you can watch here) had just that as its thesis: editing has changed, and when used poorly, can send a film into jeopardy. There’s no purpose to this visual style. There’s no reason. There’s no perspective. It’s just messy. The incoherent mess of a political allegory paired with the hodgepodge visual style… gosh, that’s two strikes.
Stylistically, regarding the plot, we hit another bump in the road. A lot of it, I assume intentionally, feels like a neo-noir. But that tonality of the film shifts, fluctuates, and doesn’t know what to do with itself. There’s a switch to something grittier, which under normal circumstances would not be inherently bad. The switch seems to be nodding to films like GoodFellas (which is sort of ironic), where the realism of the violence takes the center stage, disillusioning the audience of the romanticism they became familiar with two decades prior with The Godfather. That would be fine, you know, if it stayed that way. There’s another shift to something talkier, less noir and more “I don’t know what style I’m working with, so this is like an interstitial”. There’s some dark comedy in there for, like, two scenes. If the film had been sliced and diced into a series of vignettes, each short dedicated to its own kind of style and tone, maybe the film would work. But, as is, we get something confused. Excited, probably, but unable to know its own pace and something easily confused.
My last hope would be performances. Richard Jenkins, as a man (named Driver, for the record) who has long conversations with Pitt’s hit man, is good. Brad Pitt is fine. James Gandolfini is not very good. Ray Liotta is pretty good. Scoot McNairy is the only one who gives an enthralling performance, primarily within the first 15 minutes of the film. But no one really seems to bring their A-game. Pitt’s hit man, with his “inconsistent” moral views (he kills people, and yet criticizes the United States) make his character more pseudo-enigmatic rather than one of true depth. There’s no real good study of any of the characters, when this kind of film from this kind of director would definitely call for it. Its script, as well, is all over the place, with big chunks of dialogue and monologue fairly unnecessary and doing nothing to a) illustrate the character in a more detailed way or b) articulate and elaborate on whatever thesis it may or may not have. But, hey, Brad Pitt looks good in sunglasses.
Killing Them Softly is a confused film: stylistically, thematically, and in a narrative sense as well. With little rhyme or reason for many of the creative decisions made, little attempt to give meaty and interesting characters, and a severe allegory that inexplicably doesn’t have any idea how to articulate its thesis well, what is their left to say? What is there left to comment? I haven’t seen Chopper, but Dominik doesn’t really establish a precise and clear voice like he did with Jesse James. It looks like Dominik, maybe trying his hand at post-modernism, spent less time killing them softly and more time killing his audience haphazardly.
A couple years ago, I wrote a scathing review of the American remake of Michael Haneke’s thriller Funny Games (which will henceforth be known as Funny Games US). The brilliant performances from Tim Roth and Naomi Watts as poor rich people being tortured by a couple of lunatics played by Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet notwithstanding, its smugness and overt message condemning audiences for enjoying sadistic violence was a major turn off. It was a task sitting through it, an absolute nightmare in a way. But, you could say, Haneke achieved his goal. However, after avoiding Haneke’s films for a bit, and not bothering to watch the original 1997 Austrian film, I decided once and for all to delve into the Austrian director’s work. After watching Cache, The Piano Teacher, and The White Ribbon, I decided, because I loved the ambiguity, intensity, and subversiveness of those films, I’d give the original Funny Games a go. I was not, however, expecting much. Haneke’s 2007 Funny Games US was a shot for shot remake of his original film, only in English and with new actors. Having explored Haneke’s work a bit more thoroughly and having grown more mature in my tastes, not only does Haneke rank amongst my new favorite directors (subsection: “provocateur”, next to Lars von Trier), I’ve had a change of heart about both Funny Games. That does not, however mean that I love the film, or even like it more than I did. It’s honestly hard to make up one’s mind about a film that has so much fun and takes so much pleasure in serving up a wretched dish to its audience in such a knowing way. Nevertheless, I do appreciate it more than I did. But why? Well…
All in the Family
Michael Haneke has a lot to say about things. Just things in general. And while his opinion of the upper middle class and the bourgeoisie doesn’t occupy the viewer’s mind for long, due to, um, other events, what he says is just as scathing as his message about violence (which is what I will get to later). Only a certain kind of people would play a music game in the car by quizzing one another on what operatic piece is playing. Is it Mahler? No, Wagner. Or maybe… This version of fun and games certainly occupies the mainstream music listener, but as casual as the family in the film does it (in the Austrian film, the parents are played by Susanne Lothar and Ullrich Muhe), there very act itself reeks of pretension. Haneke gives us a close up of the dozen or so CDs in the car, and while the family enjoys their ride with their expensive boat to their expensive lake house, Haneke cuts short the elegiac bliss and drowns the audiences ears’ in what could be assumed to be screamo. This harsh juxtaposition is like a scale. Opera is considered one of the high arts; screamo, within most circles, is usually written off by “that kind of people” as “noise”. But within the mainstream circle, both would be ignored; thus the scale. They’re both two extremes of the same medium. (I bet if Haneke had waited a few years to remake his film, he might use Skrillex.)
When the family get to their lake house, they enter through a gate, a clear sign that these people are not the ninety-nine percent. But that gate seems to hint at the fact that their lake house not only gates them from, you know, strangers, but gates their lives off from other people. Their lives seem so insular with that gate in place. Their lake house doesn’t look like a nice little cottage by the lake. It looks like a two story house. That you live in. Another spit in the face. While Haneke may be smarmy about the upper class, he has a lot more headed for them than they could ever expect.
The Fabulous Sociopathic Boys
The boys look like clean cut gold caddies in a way, which is a little ironic. They do not look completely out of place in the large, wealthy lake houses they break into, but they also don’t look like they were born there or were there in the first place. These sociopaths, though, are your worst nightmare. Not only because they relish the great violence and torture they cause, but because they look “just like you”, albeit younger and maybe snarkier. A lot of horror films stress the “it could be your neighbor” element, but with very little purpose other than hypothetical paranoia in comparison to these two psychopaths. Haneke seems to be saying, “They are your neighbors. And you know why? Because the media has created them.” I mean, where else would they have gotten the ideas for the sick games they play from other than video games, the news, and, yes, the movies.
Even their dialogue has the bounce and rhythm of other writers, like Hawks and Hecht, the banter resembling kind of a slash version of Bringing Up Baby. They’re fairly young, so they are the target audience. They are, essentially, you. Yes, my friends, Haneke is making the audience the culprit. And how he relishes doing that. I am not sure, however, whether or not he enjoys the game itself or the players more.
As “torturous” of an experience it is to watch Funny Games, most of the violence is suggested. And yet that still doesn’t seem to help. The violence is, perhaps, the most interesting aspect of the film. Even though most of the violence happens off screen, the audience still squirms even though they aren’t watching Hostel or Saw or even Oldboy. And yet they salivate and yearn, unsatisfied with only hearing the screams from the mother, the groans from the father, and the whimpers from their child. Not only that, but here, the violence is real. Or it seems real, too real. Subverting audience expectation is something I’ve become accustomed to when it comes to Haneke. With the ridiculousness of torture porn, it seems so outrageous that it’s just a gross out cliché. However, these so-called funny games are ones that are probably more emotionally savage than physically. Yes, the father’s knee cap is basically hammered in by a 9-iron, but the mother must play “The Loving Wife”. This game involves poor Anna, where she must recite a prayer forward and backwards (clearly mocking religion) flawlessly or her husband will be killed (either with the gun or the knife; it’s her choice). And another game, where she has to undress herself. And another game, where they put the son’s head in a canvas sack. These aren’t just random, elaborate torture devices Jigsaw would use, but truly terribly, emotionally and spiritually scarring tasks that are so diabolical because they are so incredibly simple. It’s all in the simplicity of the thing, and simplicity serves up the realism in a large portion. Why don’t they just kill them? As one of the boys says, “You can’t forget the importance of entertainment.”
However, the problem I had with the films lies in the violence itself, and it isn’t just the violence that makes the film interesting, but also its presentation. These are horrible things happening to good people. And Haneke, all the while, enjoys this. He enjoys seeing his audience both repulsed and gripped by such acts of terror. And what he’s saying, obviously, is that we are terrible people for loving it so much and for loving violence so much. The games are real, and Haneke is playing a game on the audience, not just with this upper class family. But because he enjoys it so much, doesn’t that make him just as complicit as his audience? Isn’t Haneke just as guilty of the loathsome enjoyment of violence as we are, or as any fan of horror? How does on reconcile smugness with what is clearly a grippingly and fascinatingly terrifying film? In his other films, he explores people under pressure, just as he does here, but in other situations. Someone is watching a family; someone wants to act on sexual fantasies after years of repression; more brutal things are happening but in a small German town. But with those films, as subtle as he may or may not be, depending from film to film, there isn’t as much of the impression that he is plainly slapping you in the face and laughing all the while. He subverts audience expectation, but he does not go out of his way to rub it in the audience’s faces. He makes the audience a culprit in voyeurism, but you don’t realize it until after, unlike Funny Games where you clearly know what’s going on, why, and by whom. I guess the ability to forgive Haneke for this arrogance and, I hate to say it, pretension will vary from person to person. I, for one, am still on the fence.
Smashing Down Fourth Wall
Breaking the fourth wall is an act of intrusiveness. It takes you out of the escapism and makes the experience of whatever is going on very immediate. It sometimes is used as a way to connect to the audience and to familiarize the audience with a character’s voice, like Alvy Singer in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall, but here, the fourth wall is knocked down partly out of smugness and partly, once again, to show how reckless and tasteless of a society we’ve become. The two sociopaths every so often wink or talk directly to the audience, which seems unorthodox. Generally, you would think that if a character were to break the fourth wall, it would be one we could either connect to or root for. However, because the thesis of Funny Games is mostly “condemn the audience” and because the sociopaths are an extreme incarnation of “us”, Haneke subverts the aforementioned cliché, making us identify, unwillingly, to the torturers. Although villains certainly have broken the fourth wall in the past, it’s not usually in as much of a self-conscious way, and when they do, it’s because they have appeal and they are the villain we kind of love or love to hate. They are our id that we don’t mind acknowledging. The sociopaths, however, reveal a side of human nature that’s more terrible than we want to admit. Haneke’s other films have explored, to some extent, the terrible things humans can do, but Funny Games rings more poisonous because we don’t want to identify that we could do these kinds of things. We barely even want to acknowledge that there’s a preening yuppie in all of us, never mind our ability to rake a gold club and whack someone with it. Generally, it’s Lars von Trier who likes to slap society in the face with his art films, blatantly but in an expert way. Just look at his biting allegory of America in Dogville and Manderlay. Haneke has no trouble, however, doing that as well.
The painful thing is that these boys control this environment. Not only do the break the fourth wall, they also break the laws of reality. In one scene, where the mother takes a lone shotgun by the coffee table and kills one of the sociopaths, the other searches everywhere he can for the remote control. When he finds it, he pushes rewind, and like a videocassette, the events are rewound and then play is hit. This time, he knows what she’s going to grab for. In this way, it’s extremely frustrating to watch this film. If the villains have the control, why bother watching if there’s no hope for these people? And why, as a matter of fact, do we keep watching after that happens? Again, Haneke points out our blood lust as well as our tolerance for violence.
One chilling image is of a lone television screen displaying a NASCAR race or something like it. Pedestrian though it may be, the television screen is covered and dripping in blood. This image stays on the screen for probably thirty seconds or maybe longer. What’s the point? The desensitization of society. We, as a world culture, have gotten so used to seeing violent images in films, games, the news, TV shows, etc. that it is completely commonplace. Blood seems a little out of place for a motor car race, but that’s the point. No matter how out of place the blood would be, we would still be used to it, barely even phased by its presence. This, I feel, is the most chilling, and most accurate, statement that Haneke makes in the film.
The Circle of Life and Death
At the end of the film, it’s revealed that the boys came directly from the neighbors next door, whom they’d been torturing. And after they’re done with this family, they’re going to start right back up with another. As one of the boys approaches, asking for eggs (a sign from before that the games are about to begin), we understand that it’s all just a vicious circle. That point being that violence, both in the natural world as well as the audience’s compliance, is cyclical. While stopping by your neighbors and torturing them is hardly normal, the dark side of human nature, however, is. In a way, the end, signaling the beginning, is almost like Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, a novel that expounds upon the cyclical nature of revenge and love. Horror films will be made, audiences will go in droves, the feast will continue, and begin again the next time. It’s an unpleasant thought, but true nonetheless. Atrocities will occur in the real word, people will watch the news in shock and awe, and then something else will happen garnering similar coverage and, of course, similar ratings.
All in the Shot for Shot
One could say that making one Funny Games, the Austrian one, is bad enough. But, eye rolls must commence when a foreign film gets an American remake. From the disgustingly sappy City of Angels remade from Wim Wender’s existential symphony Wings of Desire to the remake of Godard’s Breathless by Jim McBride, American remakes of foreign films usually garner scorn and bad reviews. (Not always though, for every failure there’s a Magnificent Seven or Let Me In or even The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.) However, Funny Games US is directed by Haneke himself. What’s more, it’s a shot for shot remake, meaning that every shot from his 1997 film is duplicated here. Unnecessary? That may be up to you, but in remaking Funny Games, he took a film that had pretty much world wide appeal and then focused it, aiming it directly at Americans. For, who else than we to come up with something as gruesome as The Hills Have Eyes, The Last House on the Left, and, of course, Saw? And who other than Americans to make Saw a franchise. One film may have one thing, but seven. What kind of people are we? It’s been noted that our rating system is harsher on sex than violence, while the ratings board in Europe is harsher on violence. Why is that? Why are we so okay with seeing violence? It might be a part of human nature, but what’s with all the reveling and “okay-ness” about it. There are video games, which are an easy target (no pun intended). The thing about the US is that we are slowly losing are ability to truly differentiate between fantasy and reality, especially regarding violence. Violence in film is getting more real, and violence in reality is becoming more prolific and ubiquitous.
But I haven’t addressed the shot for shot thing. In 1998, Gus van Sant remade Hitchcock’s masterpiece Psycho pretty much shot for shot. He said he did it “so no one would have to”. The point also was that duplicating every scene and every shot would not create a perfect replica of the original. Even if you like van Sant’s Psycho, there is no denying it is a lesser film in comparison to Hitchcock’s. Even though, it’s basically the same thing. When Haneke is remaking his film, not only is he basically articulating the same thing, but he also seems to be making a small statement on American remakes of foreign films. While he may not be ushering Park Chan-wook to take the reigns over from Spike Lee for the new Oldboy remake, he does seem to say that American remakes are, essentially, lazy and generally not exercises of artistry or creativity (again, exceptions notwithstanding, like A Fistful of Dollars). Learn to read subtitles and get over yourselves. But, who knows? Maybe Kurosawa will rise from the grave, destroy all prints of The Outrage and remake Rashomon himself.
To me, it doesn’t really matter. Although the Austrian original has more of a worldwide appeal with its content, I’ve become fond of having America getting told off through art. The performances in both films are outstanding and so painful to watch, they are what give the film the most potency. They are both technically proficient, of course, with long takes and static shots. But because they are shot for shot, they kind of blend together in the mind from time to time. The biggest thing I can say to you is see at least one of them. It doesn’t particularly matter which (thus the main failure on Haneke’s point, for neither are terribly distinctive enough to differentiate a whole hell of a lot). While the films may be smug in their condemnation of a sector of society that kind of enjoys this stuff, the potency of its message, its presentation, and execution are pretty flawless. It’s a horror film that creates real fear that the average slasher can’t. It seduces you in the most despicable way, seemingly to prove its very point. It makes you relinquish control completely from the situation. It makes your identify with terrible people. And, yes, it plays minds games with you. You know, Funny Games.
My list of the favorite 101 films of all time continues! See Part 1 here!
21. Casino Royale* (2006) | Directed by Martin Campbell
Bond’s gritty return to the screen is a reboot in the same way that Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy was a reboot: a character reinvention where we get to see his naked psyche taking place in a real world where, in the end, he doesn’t win. The back to basics approach strips Bond of the cartoonish gadgetry of the last forty years in favor for the gritty realism that didn’t make the character popular beforehand. Prior to the readaptation of Ian Fleming’s novel, Bond was an escape, a super hero for the Cold War. In a post-9/11 world, though, and in an age where formulas have to be reinvented, that James Bond with a jetpack just wouldn’t cut it. So, we trade in the special attaché case in favor of a case study, of Bond, his villain, and his Bond girl. This is all subtle enough so that most viewers probably wouldn’t take as much note of it, but it’s still there. The cold metal armor that covers his heart is melted by Vesper Lynd (the elegant Eva Green), and Bond faces ethical decisions and must reign in his ego against the Number, in league with a certain terrorist organization. It’s Craig’s honest portrayal of a cold killer who finally comes to terms with what he does for a living that makes the film so spectacular. Oh, not to mention the superb direction (from Martin Campbell, GoldenEye helmer), the great action sequences (oh, bye Venice; oh hey free running!), and the intense card playing. I know that those sequences are often complained about it, but, when has poker playing been so intense? Bond is reinvented with a new origin story, and yet, without a doubt, we know his name and we know his number.
22. Cast Away (2000) | Directed by Robert Zemeckis
Zemeckis made most of his career for action, sci-fi comedies like Back to the Future (which I hate, by the way) or sappy walks through history like Forrest Gump. But Cast Away may be the best example of his direction, his ability to set up a scene, and his chops as a visual storyteller. For the most part, it’s Tom Hanks stranded on an island. Simple though it may sound, the mostly wordless film concentrates on how isolation affects us, our need for companionship (as evidenced by Wilson), and our struggle to survive as human beings. Tom Hanks’ performance in this is one of the best performances from Nicest Guy in Hollywood to date, at once embodying Robinson Crusoe and Charlie Chaplin. His friendship with a beach volleyball, Wilson, contains some of the most tender and memorable moments in cinema.
23. Charade (1963) | Directed by Stanley Donen
With the colors of Singin’ in the Rain and the macabre wit of Alfred Hitchcock (perhaps The Lady Vanishes), Charade is a jovial and jaunty thriller with exceptional humor and thrills. There are some obvious brushstrokes taken from the Bond films, with the storyline strumming with spies and duplicity, which is a little ironic, since Cary Grant had been offered the role of Bond for Dr. No. It’s the lighthearted wit that makes the film, the connection and chemistry between Grant and Audrey Hepburn superb. And, don’t worry, I have no idea who Cary Grant’s character is either, and I’ve watched it at least 50 times.
24. Chungking Express (1994) | Directed by Wong Kar-Wai
Wong Kar-Wai’s glorious Chungking Express is pop art in the best way possible. Taking its cues from popular romances, nostalgic music, and color drenched, kinetic camera work, the film, despite being an artistic masterwork, actually was made more as a commercial film. It just goes to show that when you have an artist behind the camera, anything is possible. The film is comprised of two stories, both following rather lonely people, who obsess either over the past or what has yet to even happen. Regardless of how superb and beautiful this film is, I kept thinking of one thing throughout viewing this film: “Wow, we Asians are awesome at wallowing in self-pity.”
25. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) | Directed by Steven Spielberg
Spielberg’s film is all sorts of lovely. A story of faith and serendipity, it brings together people who continue to see things that really could not be possible, or even plausible. But they are. Through tremendous special effects, moving performances, a stellar score from John Williams, and, of course, a wonderful role from French New Wave auteur François Truffaut, the film transcends the science fiction genre and makes a film full of emotion. The subject matter initially sounds kind of frivolous and silly, but with its character driven story, it’s anything but that. There’s a surprising amount of faith embedded in the film. Dreyfuss, against the odds, maintains that what he’s seeing must be real, and seeks to find it. The finale of the film is spectacular. The film stands out as one of the best Spielberg has ever made.
26. Clue (1985) | Directed by Jonathan Lynn
Jonathan Lynn’s comedic gem Clue was made before making movies out of board games was cool. Similar to (what I consider) the lesser comedy mystery parody Murder by Death, Clue takes your favorite characters from the Parker Brothers board game, brings them to life, and makes them do outlandish, hysterical things. It’s probably not as self-aware or as deliberate a parody of mysteries as Murder by Death, but what it lacks in that meta-humor is a terrific script and a spectacular ensemble. Madeline Khan’s deadpan deliveries as Mrs. White, Martin Mull’s indignant Colonel Mustard, Lesley Ann Warren’s slinky and sardonic Miss Scarlett, and Tim Curry’s brilliant/bumbling butler are absolutely superb. With Clue, it’s not just a game anymore.
27. Dancer in the Dark (2000) | Directed by Lars von Trier
Provocateur Lars von Trier makes a musical! Yes, my friends, the man behind the devious allegory of Dogville, the satanic glory of Antichrist, and the End of the World character study Melancholia made a musical. With Icelandic singer Bjork. Taking advantage of Bjork’s child-like persona, von Trier employs her to play a slightly naïve Czech immigrant living in Washington in 1964, slowly going blind. Saving money little by little for her son’s operation as she works in a factory, she takes solace in imagining her world as a musical. In that way, it’s a little like Chicago. But what von Trier does with a musical is subvert a musical’s typical job to manipulate the audience emotionally. An unsaid rule of thumb for a musical is that it must be sentimental and happy and sad, etc., the music often working as emotional cues for what the audience is supposed to feel. Lars von Trier turns that on its head and subverts that sentimentality, making Dancer in the Dark one of the most emotionally manipulative films ever made. I say that as a good thing. The moment that Bjork’s childlike Selma and her life start going downhill, there’s no stopping. It’s relentless. It gets to a point where you don’t know how much more depressing, sad, and, yes, melancholy the film could possibly get, and then jumps past those expectations. But it is nonetheless a triumph of feeling, rather than acting for Bjork, and directing for Lars von Trier. With very Bjork-ish music (she wrote the songs), and interesting Dogme95-esque camera work, Dancer in the Dark is the best slap in the face that musicals, and the people who love them, could ever get.
28. Death Proof (2007) | Directed by Quentin Tarantino
Tarantino’s loving ode to car chase films like Vanishing Point and Gone in 60 Seconds (the original one) gets the flack of being “lesser Tarantino”. It’s not as narratively flashy or as experimental, it’s not as visually compelling (so they say), the character’s aren’t as interesting, the dialogue isn’t as good, it’s like an episode of Friends directed by Tarantino, and the complaints go on. On the contrary, the fact that Tarantino reigns himself in, making a rather understated film in comparison to his other works, is refreshing. And what the film does have is an intense car chase on par with Bullitt and The French Connection. This is Tarantino’s girl power film, the closest he’s ever come to making a “women in prison” movie. It’s fun, and the characters are as articulate as ever. My favorite part of the film is the second half, in which Rosario Dawson, Tracie Thoms, and Zoe Bell kick ass. Tarantino provides a wonderful soundtrack along with a great car chase sequence.
29. The Devil Wears Prada (2006) | Directed by David Frankel
It isn’t exactly the typical chick flick you would come to expect from the dozens or even hundreds that have been made, and it’s different in the way that it a) treats its “villain” and b) treats the fashion industry. Meryl Streep’s peerless portrayal of the Devil as Editor in Chief is far from just Streep being bitchy and demanding. There’s that, which is undoubtedly fun to watch, but Streep, in all her glory, is able to provide a duality and vulnerability to the character. Miranda Priestly is still a villain, and she rarely remains sympathetic, but she is at least multidimensional. Secondly, it treats the fashion industry with respect. Going in, we’re given the same perspective that most people in the audience would assume: fashion is stupid and overly expensive. “And they all act like they’re curing cancer or something. The amount of time and energy¡¬ that these people spend on these insignificant, minute details, and for what? So that tomorrow they can spend another $300,000 reshooting something¡¬ that was probably fine to begin with¡¬ to sell people things they don’t need!” However, we, the audience, are enlightened as to what it is: a theoretical, conceptual business of artistry. While Runway, the Vogue like magazine Anne Hathaway’s Andy works at, may focus on the marketing, we are given insights into the artistic side of working in fashion. Also, Emily Blunt is perfect as Miranda’s first assistant, Emily, whose bitchery rivals even that of her boss.
30. Diabolique (1955) | Directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot
Clouzot’s masterful piece of suspense, mystery and horror would eventually give inspiration to numerous directors, including Alfred Hitchcock for Psycho. Clouzot perfected the art of creating tension with The Wages of Fear, and it looks and feels even better in Diabolique. In this rather Gothic horror, camera positioning is everything. Mise-en-scene is of the utmost importance. The planned murder of the bastard of a headmaster as a private school by his wife and mistress, the entire film is built around tremendous suspense. But it’s the ending that will give you a heart attack.
31. District 9 (2009) | Directed by Neill Blomkamp
I was surprised at how quickly District 9, which might be at first glance just be an action sci-fi flick but is far from it, jumps into “political allegory” mode. Less than four minutes into it, the audience is given a look at the societal discrepancies between aliens, or prawns, and humans and their subsequent segregation and ostracism from society. With a wallop of an introduction, the film focuses on one man, originally hired to send eviction notices to the prawns living in District 9, and his transformation into a prawn, his desperate attempts to fix this, and the help he gets from a prawn who can fix the mother ship that can bring them back home. The documentary style filmmaking is an intriguing narrative addition, but it’s Sharlto Copley’s sporadic, improvisational style that brings an incredible amount of realism to the film. This isn’t just a sci-fi film, or even something loosely disguised as an allegory, it’s a sad story of self-actualization and acceptance. This film moved me like almost no other film has ever done.
32. Dogville (2005) | Directed by Lars von Trier
I believe the original intentions of von Trier’s Our Town from Hell were to make a film just to piss off the United States. Von Trier, through all of his diabolical genius, accomplished far more than simply angering Americans; von Trier paints a nasty, but important, portrait of America’s hypocrisies and shortcomings. Utilizing minimalist set design, the little town of Dogville is the nice heart of America. Nicole Kidman, whose performance is superlative, plays Grace, who is America’s gung ho idealism. Almost an ironic exploration of self, through Grace’s “arrogance”, she reveals Dogville’s teeth and dark soul. It’s infuriating, long, and exhausting to watch, but it’s an unrivaled experience, and an honest look at America’s tendency to sweep things under the rug.
33. Down with Love (2003) | Directed by Peyton Reed
Reed’s colorful romantic comedy is a treat, but Down with Love serves up something more than just nostalgia. A critique of the contemporary romantic comedy via the use of techniques reminiscent of the sex comedies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson, every line of dialogue is about the Battle of the Sexes, drenched in sexual innuendo. Ewan McGregor is great as the handsome philanderer and Renée Zelwegger is fabulous as proto-feminist type trying to establish herself as a bestselling author. Even better than the leads are supporting Sarah Paulson as a go-getter editor and David Hyde Pierce as the editor in chief for the magazine McGregor works for. The Battles of the Sexes is hardly over, so let’s get ready to rumble.
34. Dr. No (1962) | Directed by Terrence Young
When the James Bond franchise began, it didn’t lapse into the boring and trying formula that’s become associated with the series. Instead, it was a stricter form of escapism, as similar to any spy movie about the Cold War as anything. Dr. No is one of the best action spy movies to come out of the ‘60s. Of course, it wouldn’t be anything were it not for the charisma of Sean Connery. He’s charming without being annoying, sexy without effort, and cheeky without being silly. Dr. No ends up being a fascinating, action packed adventure.
35. Drive (2011) | Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn
Nicolas Winding Refn’s pop culture infused, postmodern existential character study is a captivating film. It looks great, and Ryan Gosling portrays the Driver with expressions that are at once discernible and unreadable. We feel like we know him. With the neon drenched cinematography, every frame is a work of art. It’s a flashy, pop work of contempo art. With its ‘80s-esque pumped soundtrack, the turbulent and shocking bursts of violence, the neon drenched cinematography, and the love story at the center of everything, the film shifts between being completely original and out of left field and being “Camus Behind the Wheel”.
36. Eat Drink, Man Woman (1994) | Directed by Ang Lee
Ang Lee presents Food Porn and Families. I might be exaggerating a little, but Eat Drink Man Woman, a film about relationships, family, love, and maturing, is gorgeous to look at and to watch. Especially the food scenes. As much as that opening scene is mouthwatering to look at, Lee offers a careful examination of a group of women who are growing up and finally becoming independent from their widowed father. Very humorous and insightful, Lee continues to prove himself an expert at looking at familial subjects. It’s delicious.
37. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) | Directed by Michel Gondry
Kaufman once again explores the complexity of the mind, going through the memories of one Joel Barrish, as he attempts to erase his ex-girlfriend completely. The exploration of pain, love, and how memories affect who we are as people is stunning, genius, and heartbreaking. Both Jim Carry and Kate Winslet play against type, Carry taking on a more serious, somewhat anal and insecure role, while Winslet is goofier, epitomizing the annoying pixie quirky girl. Discovering the people who’ve affected us the most is a journey of self-discovery and it has never been more potent than in Gondry’s visually beautiful film.
38. The Exorcist (1973) | Directed by William Friedkin
William Friedkin’s The Exorcist has been championed as one of the scariest films of all time, and rightfully so. From Linda Blair’s head turning role as a young girl possessed by an evil demon to the even more horrifying subtext regarding religious control, ideology, and homophobia, … did I lose you? Okay, sticking to the most obvious things, philosophically focusing on faith and viscerally focusing on… pea soup, the film gives a sucker punch with every viewing. Ellen Burstyn, Max von Sydow, and Jason Miller also give terrific performances. It’s a film that sounds just as scary as it looks as well, having won an Academy Award for Best Sound. Based on William Peter Blattey’s novel, any day is an excellent day for an exorcism.
39. Fanny and Alexander* (1982) | Directed by Ingmar Bergman
Once stating, “The Stage is my wife and the cinema is my mistress”, Bergman’s tribute to the stage and to imagination is one of the greatest films ever made. Fanny and Alexander is gorgeously photographed, textured, and visualized. Though the theatrical cut of three hours is more than graceful, the work of true perfection is Bergman’s original five hour cut for TV. As joyful and eloquent as Bergman has ever been, the semi-autobiographical film about the beauty of youth and imagination transcends cinema altogether. I’ve made it a new tradition to watch the first episode of the TV cut of Fanny and Alexander every holiday season, as the 90 minute episode contains the best Christmas scene ever. Oh, yeah, that Christmas scene is the entire episode.
40. Fantasia/Fantasia 2000 (1940/2000) | Directed by Walt Disney/Roy E. Disney
Gorgeously experimental and beautifully realized, music and animation come together harmoniously in Fantasia and Fantasia 2000. The films use two artistic mediums of expression in segments to embrace emotion, story, and the artistry of creating animation and creating music. “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” is a standby, of course, but “Rhapsody in Blue”, featured in Fantasia 2000 clocks in at my favorite segment from the two films. Using Gershwin’s gorgeous music to paint a picture, literally, of New York as expertly as Gordon Willis and Woody Allen did in the opening of Manhattan. Combining the two mediums and having them worked together, complementing one another at every beat, comes together beautifully, making for a memorable experience on the screen. Fantasia is a treat for both the eyes and the ears.