I DON'T REMEMBER THE TITANS

...nor do I want to.

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Best Films of 2018

Top 10 Films of the Year:

1.       ROMA (Netflix)

If I harbored any doubt that Alfonso Cuarón was among the greatest filmmakers/storytellers of this (or last) century, it was forever dispelled with Roma. Cuarón’s hyper-naturalistic memoir reveals the thorny relationships between employers, caregivers, and those who receive care. It possesses a kind of clarity, maturity, and tenderness that only comes with distance and time. As it communicates the innumerable intersections of and parallels between ethnicity, class, and gender, it neither rushes nor exaggerates and romanticize, which is quite commendable considering just how visually rapturous Cuarón’s execution is. Moreover, he does so without pontificating or criticizing. Some of the film’s detractors claim it’s an elitist exaltation of domestic workers; I find that assertion unfair, for it would require a larger conversation about who is able to represent whom. I believe Cuarón respectfully illuminates and savors the mundane for therein lies the clandestine miracles of life. It’s clear he has so much love for the ghosts of long ago. Roma is a paean celebrating and lamenting all the pains and pleasures that usher us through any given year.  (Watch the trailer.)

2.       COLD WAR (Amazon Studios)

Sexy, sad, and everything in between, Paweł Pawlikowski’s Cold War chronicles a nearly two decade-long love affair between Wiktor - an accomplished music director - and Zula - a rising singer - in a world in threat of extinction. The film examines the violation of cultural identity and the mechanism of war which thwart any attempt to preserve authenticity. Epic and tactfully sparse in equal amounts, the film is comprised of unbearably terse episodes peppered over fifteen years. Thus, we are only privy to fragments of the characters’ tumultuous timeline together. Within the interlude – between each passionate episodes - Pawlikowski brilliantly employs subtext and chilly atmospheric tension to sustains the pair’s longings – and subsequently preserves our infatuation with them. Cold War is a rich love story swathed in bitterness. By the end, we can’t help but envy, pity, and mourn each part of Wiktor and Zula’s hot-blooded romance. (Watch the trailer.)

3.       THE TALE (HBO Films)

The Tale is a work in progress. I say this without insult but unrestrained admiration. Documentarian Jennifer Fox’s devastating filmic memoir about childhood sexual assault is personal exercise in understanding deeply entrenched trauma. Much of the film’s approbation notes its nuanced handling of difficult thematic material and Dern’s towering yet understated performance, but Fox’s haunting lyricism – the way she manifests a cinematic conversation between her present self and her younger self from dispersed memories  – makes this film a formal and aesthetic triumph just as much as a cultural watershed.

Initially, I questioned how “accurate” the film’s conclusion was. Did the events unfold with the same amount of understated poetic justice? Did Fox have the opportunity for confrontation and vindication as depicted? I realize that asking for explication undercuts the power of Fox’s investigation and exemplary subjectivity. The film itself is an act of introspective healing. As harrowing as The Tale is, it is essential viewing. (Watch the trailer.)

4.       THE FAVOURITE (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

I’m still quite ambivalent towards the film’s nauseating photography, but make no mistake; The Favourite is the best writing and acting you’ll witness this year. While Lanthimos other films (Dogtooth, The Lobster, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer) are the superlative statements on the auteur’s résumé – perhaps in part because he also penned them – his dark, stomach-churning talents certainly lend themselves well to this gleefully filthy farce. The deliciously dicey sexual politics between the characters provides a scathing critique of class, decorum, regal period pieces, and the current political climate on a grand scale. The trio’s absurd antics keep the film alive with color and candor, but film’s lasting impact comes with the glimmers of profound sadness laced within Olivia Colman’s performance as the sovereign. Colman, one of the finest living actors, carefully vacillates between her character’s illogical command and her surprising frailty. The Favourite typifies the best kind of satire: deliciously catty as it plays out with a melancholic sting in its aftermath. (Watch the trailer.)

5.       HEREDITARY (A24)

Balance is key in life – and because we’ve relished the delectable delights of Mary Poppins Returns and Paddington 2, a hearty dose of uncompromising nihilism is also imperative. Hereditary more than excels in that role. It is a grotesque descent into unimaginable horror led by Toni Collette in a game-changing performance. Following films like Antichrist (2009), Babadook (2014), The VVitch (2015) and this year’s equally terrific and terrifying The Haunting of Hill House series, Hereditary marks an apex in the horror subgenre exploring the connection between loss and dread. It’s aware of the genre’s robust history. Consequently much of its success lies in its perceptive ability to draw from other classics like Rosemary’s Baby, Don’t Look Now, and The Exorcist while continuing to probe the complexities of grief and unconscious shame. (Watch the trailer.)

6.       YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE (Amazon Studios)

Had the titles not already been taken, You Were Never Really Here could have easily be called “Making a Murderer,” “Gone Girl,” or “Vengeance Is Mine.” Lynne Ramsay’s follow-up to We Need to Talk About Kevin follows a damaged antihero hired to rescue trafficked girls. Her The story’s presentation is so lean and alienating that it’s difficult to ever form a comprehensive understanding of merciless world the characters inhabit. The violence is graphic, however Ramsey rarely shows the actual acts as they are committed. Instead, she takes us through static terrains in the wake of horrific brutality. Her juxtaposition of overwhelming ambient noises creates a particularly affecting cacophony. Surreal, distressing, yet oddly tender and uplifting, You Were Never Really Here confirms once again that Ramsay is an artist of the highest order. (Watch the trailer.)

7.       EIGHTH GRADE (A24)

Bo Burham’s Eighth Grade a wonder to behold – that is, if you can endure an utterly distressing experience to endure. Eighth Grade’s young heroine, Kayla, navigates the frightening contours of adolescence. During my initial viewing of Eighth Grade, it felt like a slideshow of memories from the most repellent stages of childhood. I only allowed myself to recognize it all at a distance – perhaps a self-induced safety mechanism – as if all of it existed in a half-remembered past.  Revisiting the film months later, it felt startlingly indicative of not only my eighth grade year but every year of life. If we cut through the handful of distinct aches of puberty, I’m really not so different now than I was at age thirteen – though Kayla is perhaps a bit less polished. What’s more, Kayla’s anxieties, comforts, and hopes function the same way mine do now. Burham’s film brims with compassion, so it’s easy to see - and feel - that eighth grade wasn’t that long ago. (Watch the trailer.)

8.       IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK (Annapurna Pictures)

Fear begets fear... until it eats the soul. Barry Jenkins’ adaptation of James Baldwin’s novel is a exquisite study of how fear - internalized and externalized - leads to systematic racism and discrimination. As Baldwin and Jenkins reveal, the only remedy to combat this fear is love – and there’s so much of it in and around Beale Street. (Perhaps Donnie Darko’s Jim Cunningham and his simplistic binary theory were actually prophetic?) It’s difficult to examine Jenkins’ expertise without acknowledging his stylistic and thematic influences – specifically Wong Kar-wai and his intoxicating visual romanticism and Douglas Sirk and his flair for weepy melodrama. Yet even as glimmers of other great works shine through Beale Street, Jenkins contributes his own unique voice to the pantheon of Cinema. Using Baldwin’s poignant prose as a template, he blends the conventions of great American stage plays with docudrama tenets to craft a vast universe of feeling. Furthermore, If Beale Street Could Talk is evidence that Moonlight certainly wasn’t a fluke. (Watch the trailer.)

9.       MARY POPPINS RETURNS (Disney)

It feels inappropriate to include such an imperfect movie among intimidating achievements like Roma and Cold War. Even with all its excessive schmaltz, saccharine sentiment and scenery-chewing cameos, Mary Poppins Returns represents a kind of homage I feared was entirely lost. Not so; I learned nothing’s gone forever, only out of place. Sure, the film’s nostalgic structure (or lack thereof), design, quips and songs are all aggressive imitations of a perfect cinematic and cultural touchstone, but the whole ordeal is just so beautifully flattering it’s impossible not to melt in its warmth. It reverently and earnestly reminds us just how lucky we are to have a classic like Mary Poppins to return to. It sends up and throws back to the pinnacle of the expansive (and now unforgivably carnivorous) Disney kingdom. As demonstrated here, indulging nostalgia from time to time can be quite healthy. Unlike most current family movies that pander to the lowest common denominator, Mary Poppins Returns transcends cynicism, pop iconography, and humor ingrained in the present moment. Although much of the film’s success is due to the collaboration of a surplus of talent, the film belongs to Emily Blunt. She, in fact, IS practically perfect as she evades mimicry and adds nuanced wit and benevolence. (Watch the trailer.)

10.   MADELINE’S MADELINE (Oscilloscope Laboratories)

Madeline’s Madeline, an experimental coming-of-age thriller, is a film for those who care deeply about grueling and convoluted “artistic process.” It deftly walks a tight rope between satire and an earnest exploration of psychosis and performance – not unlike Bergman’s Persona or Lynch’s Mulholland Drive. Co-Writer/Director Josephine Decker fashions a platform for the fascinating newcomer Helena Howard; she reveals a rare kind of brashness and vulnerability in the title role. Alongside Howard, Molly Parker and the ever-brilliant Miranda July put their trust in Josephine Decker’s peculiar process. As such, they elevate and legitimize Madeline’s nightmare. There is palpable malice woven through the confounding narrative, though it is impossible to discern its primary source. Thematically, the film picks up the baton where Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York left it, but Decker uses a film language loaded with obtuse codes and metaphors. Aesthetically, the film is something else entirely – more dangerous and anomalous than we’re comfortable seeing. And for that reason, it’s quite difficult to shake. (Watch the trailer.)

Another Praiseworthy 10 (in alphabetical order):

BEN IS BACK

BLACK PANTHER

BLACKkKLANSMAN

BURNING

CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME?

THE DEATH OF STALIN

LEAVE NO TRACE

SHOPLIFTERS

SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE

A STAR IS BORN

Best Direction:

1.       Alfonso Cuarón for ROMA

2.       Paweł Pawlikowski for COLD WAR

3.       Lynne Ramsay for YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE

4.       Barry Jenkins for IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

5.       Yorgos Lanthimos for THE FAVOURITE

Best Adapted Screenplays:

1.       IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

2.       BLACKkKLANSMAN

3.       BURNING

4.       CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME?

5.      BLACK PANTHER

Best Original Screenplays:

1.       THE FAVOURITE

2.       SHOPLIFTERS

3.       EIGHTH GRADE

4.       THE DEATH OF STALIN

5.       EIGHTH GRADE

Best Leading Actors:

1.       Bradley Cooper in A STAR IS BORN

2.       Ethan Hawke in FIRST REFORMED

3.       Joaquin Phoenix in YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE

4.       John David Washington in BLACKkKLANSMAN

5.       Lucas Hedges in BEN IS BACK

Best Leading Actresses:

1.       Toni Collette in HEREDITARY

2.       Olivia Coleman in THE FAVOURITE

3.       Emily Blunt in MARY POPPINS RETURNS

4.       Laura Dern in THE TALE

5.       Yalitza Aparicio in ROMA

Best Supporting Actors:

1.       Timothee Chalamet in BEAUTIFUL BOY

2.       Steven Yeun in BURNING

3.       Richard E. Grant in CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME?

4.       Adam Driver in BLACKkKLANSMAN

5.       Josh Hamilton in EIGHTH GRADE

Best Supporting Actresses:

1.       Natalie Portman in VOX LUX

2.       Emma Stone & Rachel Weisz in THE FAVOURITE

3.       Regina King in IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

4.       Amy Adams in VICE

5.       Emily Blunt in A QUIET PLACE

Best Cinematography:

1.       ROMA

2.       COLD WAR

3.       IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

4.       AT ETERNITY’S GATE

5.       SUSPIRIA

Best Film Editing:

1.       SUSPIRIA

2.       BLACK PANTHER

3.       FIRST MAN

4.       ASSASSINATION NATION

5.       WIDOWS

Best Sound Design:

1.       YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE

2.       FIRST MAN

3.       A QUIET PLACE

4.       ROMA

5.       SUSPIRIA

Best Production Design:

1.       SUSPIRIA

2.       MARY POPPINS RETURNS

3.       THE FAVOURITE

4.       BLACK PANTHER

5.       READY PLAYER ONE

Best Costume Design:

1.       MARY POPPINS RETURNS

2.       SUSPIRIA

3.       THE FAVOURITE

4.       BLACK PANTHER

5.       IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

Best Original Scores:

1.       Marc Shaiman for MARY POPPINS RETURNS

2.       Ludwig Göransson for BLACK PANTHER

3.       Alexander Desplat for ISLE OF DOGS

4.       Justin Hurwitz for FIRST MAN

5.       Nicholas Britell for IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

Best Original Songs:

1.       “The Place Where Lost Things Go” from MARY POPPINS RETURNS

2.       “Shallow” from A STAR IS BORN

3.       “Suspirium” from SUSPIRIA

4.       “All the Stars” from BLACK PANTHER

5.       “Treasure” from BEAUTIFUL BOY

Best Animated Features:

1.       SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE

2.       ISLE OF DOGS

3.       THE INCREDIBLES 2

4.       MIRAI

5.       RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET

Best Acting Ensembles:

1.       MARY POPPINS RETURNS

2.       SHOPLIFTERS

3.       BALCKkKLANSMAN

4.       THE DEATH OF STALIN

5.       A STAR IS BORN

2018′s Most Important Films:

1.       THE TALE

2.       SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE

3.       BLACK PANTHER

4.       INSTANT FAMILY

5.       CRAZY RICH ASIANS

To commemorate Ingmar Bergman’s 100th Birthday (and a sold-out Criterion Collection boxset of 39 of his films), let’s recall his greatest works:

1.       PERSONA

2.       THE SEVENTH SEAL

3.       CRIES & WHISPERS

4.       WILD STRAWBERRIES

5.       SHAME

6.       FANNY & ALEXANDER

7.       AUTUMN SONATA

8.       THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | WINTER LIGHT | THE SILENCE

9.       SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE

10.     THE VIRGIN SPRING

[idontrememberthetitans]

The 100 Greatest Foreign Language Films of All Time

1.       Persona (Sweden, 1966)

2.       Jules and Jim (France, 1962)

3.       The Conformist (Italy, 1970)

4.       The Rules of the Game (France, 1939)

5.       Tokyo Story (Japan, 1952)

6.       M (Germany, 1931)

7.       Bicycle Thieves (Italy, 1948)*

8.       Rashōmon (Japan, (1950)*

9.       8 ½ (Italy, 1963)*

10.    Breathless (France, 1959)

11.    In the Mood for Love (Hong Kong, 2000) | 2046 (Hong Kong, 2004)

12.    The 400 Blows (France, 1959)

13.    La dolce vita (Italy, 1961)#

14.    L’Avventura (Italy, 1960)

15.    Last Year at Marienbad (France, 1961)

16.    The Seventh Seal (Sweden, 1958)

17.    L’Atalante (France, 1934)

18.    The Mirror (USSR, 1975)

19.    Hiroshima mon amour (France, 1959)

20.    Raise the Red Lantern (China/Hong Kong, 1991)

21.    Cries & Whispers (Sweden, 1972)

22.    The Grand Illusion (France, 1937)

23.     Au hasard Balthazar (France, 1966)

24.     Three Colors Trilogy: Blue, White, & Red (Poland/France/Switzerland, 1993/1994)  

25.    Fanny & Alexander (Sweden, 1983)*

26.    Cría cuervos… (Spain, 1976)

27.    Pierrot le fou (France, 1965)

28.    Stalker (USSR, 1979)

29.    Ikiru (Japan, 1952)

30.    Spirit of the Beehive (Spain, 1973)

31.    Wild Strawberries (Sweden, 1957)

32.    Talk to Her (Spain, 2002)

33.    La strada (Italy, 1956)*

34.    Cléo from 5 to 7 (France, 1962)

35.    Umberto D. (Italy, 1952)

36.    Solaris (USSR, 1972)

37.    Forbidden Games (France, 1952)*

38.    Rome, Open City (Italy, 1945)

39.    Nights of Cabiria (Italy, 1958)*

40.   The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (France, 1964)#

41.    The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (France, 1974)*

42.    The Seven Samurai (Japan, 1954)

43.    Children of Paradise (France, 1945)

44.    The Emigrants (Sweden, 1972) | The New Land (Sweden, 1973)

45.    Woman in the Dunes (Japan, 1964)

46.    Belle de Jour (France, 1967)

47.    Elevator to the Gallows (France, 1958)

48.    La belle et la bête (France, 1946)

49.    Ugetsu (Japan, 1953)

50.    Wings of Desire (West Germany, 1987)

51.    Holy Motors (France, 2012)

52.    Day for Night (France, 1973)*

53.    The Lives of Others (Germany, 2006)*

54.    Through a Glass Darkly (Sweden, 1961)*

55.    Au revoir les enfants (France, 1986)

56.    The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (France/USA, 2007)

57.    The White Ribbon (Germany, 2009)#

58.    Z (Algeria, 1969)*  

59.    Army of Shadows (France, 1969)

60.    All About My Mother (Spain, 1999)*

61.    Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (Taiwan, 2000)*  

62.    Autumn Sonata (Sweden, 1978)

63.    4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (Romania, 2007)#

64.    Amour (Austria, 2012)* #

65.    Orpheus (France, 1950)

66.    y tu mamá también (Mexico, 2001)  

67.    Taste of Cherry (Iran, 1997)#

68.    Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday (France, 1953)

69.    The Battle of Algiers (Italy, 1967)

70.    Knife in the Water (Poland, 1962)

71.    Ran (Japan, 1985)

72.    The Best of Youth (Italy, 2003)

73.    The Double Life of Veronique (France/Poland/Norway, 1991)  

74.    A Separation (Iran, 2011)*

75.    Pan’s Labyrinth (Mexico, 2006)  

76.    The Official Story (Argentina, 1985)*

77.    The Great Beauty (Italy, 2013)* 

78.    Amarcord (Italy, 1973)*

79.    The Tin Drum (West Germany, 1979)* #

80.   Ida (Poland, 2014)*

81.    Underground (Bulgaria/Czech Republic/Serbia, 1995)#

82.    Black Orpheus (France/Brazil, 1959)* #

83.    Persepolis (France, 2007)

84.    Viridiana (Spain, 1961)#

85.    Poetry (South Korea, 2011)

86.    Contempt (France, 1963)  

87.    Yi Yi (A One and a Two) (Taiwan, 2000)

88.    Amélie (France, 2001)  

89.    Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Belgium, 1975)

90.    Timbuktu (Mauritania, 2014)

91.    City of God (Brazil, 2003)  

92.    Vivre sa vie (France, 1962)

93.    Black Girl (Senegal/France, 1966)  

94.    Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (Spain, 1988)

95.    Teorema (Italy, 1968)  

96.    Farewell, My Concubine (China/Hong Kong, 1993)#

97.    Dogtooth (Greece, 2010)

98.    Babette’s Feast (Denmark, 1986)*

99.    That Obscure Object of Desire (Spain, 1977)

100.  Happy Together (Hong Kong, 1997)

* Winner of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film

# Winner of the Palme d’Or/Grand Prize of the Cannes Film Festival

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Best Films of 2017

1.       Call Me by Your Name

No individual can be attributed sole authorship of Call Me By Your Name. André Aciman’s psychologically astute novel chronicling a young savant’s  coming-of-age is deftly translated into a cinematic language by James Ivory, the master director of the restrained British classics The Remains of the Day (1993) and Howards End (1992). In tandem with the screenplay, Luca Guadegnino’s erotically-charged direction explores the interplay between human emotions and the luminous physical spaces that envelope them; he has such affection for the characters and the beauty of Northern Italy. And then there’s Timothée Chalamet, a revelation who embodies a world of feeling and budding introspection. Chalamet elevates the film into a realm of tremendous importance. Call Me By Your Name is an empathetic mosaic of diverse artistic voices yearning to explore the delicacy and heartbreak of new love.

2.       mother!

We are living in an ‘Age of Absurdity’ – especially as we experience our own Sisyphus-esque nightmare of historical and political repetition. Through its bizarre – often hilarious – scenarios, visuals, and themes, Aronofsky’s mother! successfully harnesses, exploits, and displaces our anger into something rather ineffable. That is not to suggest that mother! distracts us from the legitimate horrors and absurdities of today. Contrarily, mother! validates the power of our own incense, and as such, its deliberate assault on the audience demands a response from every single viewer. Indolence is simply unacceptable. mother! has given us a reason to shout; what a gift it is to be so intellectually and viscerally aroused. (For more…)

3.       I, Tonya

Don’t waste your time with any other biopic this year… or any year, really. I, Tonya simultaneously works as a damning and hilarious critique of class inequality and an affectionate correction of a pariah’s reputation. The film interrogates the role of unreliable testimony while complicating the very notion of truth. With myriad filmic techniques, the film’s distinctive style is just as frenzied as the case on which it’s based. Set aglow by the extraordinary Margot Robbie and a most talented ensemble of character actors, I, Tonya is the one of the funniest, most challenging films in recent memory. The film subverts the cultural myth and subsequently lionizes Harding. Every beat along the way is exhilarating.

4.       Phantom Thread

As the Harvey Weinsteins of the world are gradually dethroned, Phantom Thread is a sly companion to the commentary on gender politics and rightful disruption of power dynamics. The film’s production values are exquisite and the central performances impressively controlled, but it is P.T. Anderson’s perceptive writing that gives the film its diabolical bite. It’s kinky, witty, squirm-inducing, and deceptively weird. I walked out of the film with a sick grin; the film’s final twist crept up on me like a strong cocktail.

5.       Lady Bird

Lady Bird emits a kind of authenticity often lacking in other quirky, angst-ridden female coming-of-age dramedies. Greta Gewig has found a lovely vessel to convey her personal history in Saorse Ronan, and in turn Ronan has (again) cemented her talent in the public consciousness. Gerwig – with the help of her cast – has made her own distinct experiences feel universal and relevant.

6.       The Shape of Water

Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water is anything but “original” and “unusual” as audiences and critics have proclaimed. Instead, it’s a sincere homage to gothic fairytales and paranoid thriller of the 1950s – which proves to be just as gratifying. As filmmakers increasingly mistake convolution for profundity, del Toro beautifully reaffirms the effectiveness of classic storytelling in the tradition of Spielberg and Hitchcock.

7.       Personal Shopper

At once a taut ghost story and a high-fashion melodrama, Personal Shopper is an upsetting and carefully-calibrated meditation on loss and grief. While Kristen Stewart’s acting range is limited, her performance (not unlike her remarkable turn in Clouds of Sils Maria) is so deeply rooted in her character’s apprehensions and fixations that she gives meaning to the story’s confounding ambiguities. When the film closes, you can feel your blood run cold.

8.       The Killing of a Sacred Deer

Even Yorgos’ usual deadpan antics and dark absurdity can’t provide enough of sedation to assuage The Killing of a Sacred Deer’s impenetrable misanthropy. The film begins with an obtuse scenario and quickly descends into one of the most disturbing predicaments. Yorgos’ other works (Dogtooth, The Lobster) have been inflammatory simply because their satirical elements are so contradictory, and this film is no exception. When the film wraps up, it isn’t exactly clear what specific attitudes Yorgos harbors toward humanity… and I suppose that’s part of its masochistic fun.

9.       Dunkirk

“Brevity is the soul of wit,” and after a career of frustratingly longwinded and needlessly intricate romps, Christopher Nolan may have finally found his mantra. Dunkirk, as vast as it is intimate, elevates the war genre to new heights while tactfully evading any sentiment.

10.   Lady Macbeth

In a year saturated with stellar debuts across directing, writing, and acting, this shocking British import is the most impressive of the bunch. Lady Macbeth is a wicked revenge tale told with the utmost precision and patience. Director William Oldroyd, Screenwriter Alice Birch, and star Florence Pugh deliver one of the year’s most compelling fictional characters. The injustices and abuses she endures spur a kind of sympathy and respect that almost justify her problematic actions. Additionally, the film is peppered with biting humor, and the static camera and prolonged takes make Lady Macbeth nearly unbearable to withstand.

Runners-Up

1.       Get Out

2.       A Fantastic Woman

3.       Blade Runner 2049

4.       The Beguiled

5.       The Square

6.       A Ghost Story

7.       The Florida Project

8.       The Disaster Artist

9.       The Big Sick

10.   Beach Rats

Best Direction

1.       Darren Aronofsky for mother!

2.       Christopher Nolan for Dunkirk

3.       Olivier Assayas for Personal Shopper

4.       Guillermo del Torro for The Shape of Water

5.       Sofia Coppola for The Beguiled

Best Actor in a Leading Roll

1.       Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name

2.       Daniel Day-Lewis in Phantom Thread

3.       Daniel Kaluuya in Get Out

4.       James Franco in The Disaster Artist

5.       James McAvoy in Split

Best Actress in a Leading Roll

1.       Cynthia Nixon in A Quiet Passion

2.       Margot Robbie in I, Tonya

3.       Saoirse Ronan in Lady Bird

4.       Sally Hawkins in The Shape of Water

5.       Vicky Krieps in Phantom Thread

Best Actor in a Supporting Roll

1.       Richard Jenkins in The Shape of Water

2.       Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name

3.       Willem Dafoe in The Florida Project

4.       Patrick Stewart in Logan

5.       Barry Keoghan in The Killing of a Sacred Deer

Best Actress in a Supporting Roll

1.       Hong Chau in Downsizing

2.       Allison Janney in I, Tonya

3.       Lesley Manville in Phantom Thread

4.       Laurie Metcalf in Lady Bird

5.       Mary J. Blidge in Mudbound

Best Original Screenplay

1.       Paul Thomas Anderson for Phantom Thread

2.       Greta Gerwig for Lady Bird

3.       Steven Rogers for I, Tonya

4.       Jordan Peele for Get Out

5.       Yorgos Lanthimos for The Killing of a Sacred Deer

Best Adapted Screenplay

1.       James Ivory for Call Me by Your Name

2.       Scott Neusradter and Michael H. Weber for The Disaster Artist

3.       Virgil Williams and Dee Rees for Mudbound

4.       Scott Frank, James Mangold and Michael Green for Logan

5.       Brian Selznick for Wonderstruck

Best Foreign-Language Films

1.       A Fantastic Woman (Chile)

2.       The Square (Sweden)

3.       Loveless (Russia)

4.       Raw (France)

5.       Happy End (Austria)

Best Acting Ensemble

1.       Lady Bird

2.       I, Tonya

3.       Get Out

4.       The Big Sick

5.       The Disaster Artist

Best Cinematography

1.       Blade Runner 2049

2.       The Beguiled

3.       The Shape of Water

4.       mother!

5.       Dunkirk

Best Film Editing

1.       Dunkirk

2.       I, Tonya

3.       Blade Runner 2049

4.       Baby Driver

5.       Get Out

Best Production Design

1.       Blade Runner 2049

2.       The Shape of Water

3.       Phantom Thread

4.       mother!

5.       The Beguiled

Best Original Score

1.       Jonny Greenwood for Phantom Thread

2.       Alexandre Desplat for The Shape of Water

3.       Hans Zimmer for Dunkirk

4.       Jon Brion for Lady Bird

5.       Carter Burwell for Wonderstruck

Best Original Song

1.       “Mystery of Love” from Call Me by Your Name

2.       “This Is Me” from The Greatest Showman

3.       “Remember Me” from Coco

4.       “Evermore” from Beauty and the Beast

5.       “Visions of Gideon” from Call Me by Your Name

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The Top 10 Alternative Christmas Films

1. Fanny & Alexander (1983)

“Let us be happy while we are happy. Let us be kind, generous, affectionate and good. It is necessary and not at all shameful to take pleasure in the little world.”  

2. Batman Returns (1992)

“You know, mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it... but a kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.”

3. The Lion in Winter (1968)

“No one else is caroling tonight. It might as well be Lent.”

4. Carol (2015)

“Forgive me, shopping makes me nervous.”

5. 2046 (2004)

“He didn't turn back. It's as if he boarded a very long train headed for a drowsy future through the unfathomable night.”

6. Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

“...And at no time did he ever leave my mind.”

7. The Apartment (1960)

“'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... nothin'... no action... dullsville!”

8. Elle (2016)

“Shame isn't a strong enough emotion to stop us from doing anything at all. Believe me.”

9. Tangerine (2015)

“Merry Christmas Eve, Bitch.”

10. A Christmas Tale (2008)

“I’m the one with cancer.”

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The Indiscreet Depravity of the Bourgeoisie: Why mother! is the ideal remedy in an ‘Age of Absurdity’

(A love letter to Paramount Pictures)

Enfant Terrible Darren Aronofsky has given us a treasure to behold. Until now, he has never risen to evocative heights of our beloved foreigners Lars von Trier or Michael Haneke. mother! opened over a week ago and is already deemed the disaster film of the year. Despite considerable critical acclaim, the public has been unforgiving. Its provocations may be masturbatory and obvious, but mother! is a masterpiece: the performances intelligent (if not deliciously scenery-chewing), the cinematography beautiful, and the sound design superlative. All these tenets are irrefutable. Its thematic elements and symbols, on the other hand, are contentiously debated. Yes, it is a heavy-handed Judeo-Christian allegory, creation myth, environmental cautionary tale, think-piece on gender roles and relations, and repulsive entry in the torture porn catalog. It is relentlessly misanthropic, pretentious, nihilistic, and explicit – all reasons I admire it so fervently.

I don’t care to regurgitate the circulating discourse surrounding mother!. However, what I do find particularly affecting, effervescent, and cunning about mother! is how it plays like an absurd – and at times quite grotesque – comedy of manners, which few seem to be discussing. Aronofsky is a humorist, intentional or not. Black Swan was 2010’s comedic apex and cheeky piece of trash art. Did I love it? Sure. It was gorgeous and deliriously ridiculous. But unlike Black Swan which veers more towards camp, mother! is a hybridization of absurdism and high comedy. Its style and execution harken back to the great absurdist playwrights Samuel Beckett, Harold Pinter, and Edward Albee. The only cinematic equivalent I can posit is perhaps Luis Buñuel. These writers were masters of subjecting their audiences to a cacophony of humorous oddities and social displeasure.

Like the best comedies of manners, mother! critiques the chronic woes and dissatisfactions of society’s most affluent. The elite toil to stay relevant with the transitional in-crowd.  mother!, however, never clearly defines or reveals the codes of “society.” Instead, the safe haven Lawrence’s character tries to maintain is invaded from the outside; throughout the film, an increasing number of guests descend upon Lawrence and Bardem’s serene home. In the beginning, their behaviors are familiar - their speech recognizable, their conduct plausible - yet all of it is so troublingly out of place against the established environment. The film plays with the juxtaposition of incongruent situations which all devastatingly come to a head in the film’s finale.

Additionally, mother’s non-specific vocabulary, characters, and locations not only aid metaphorical interpretation but equally give way to a confounding absurdism – a kind that makes you chuckle out of sheer discomfort. Accordingly, its criticisms of humanity (or more appropriately mankind) are more widespread. Aronofsky’s definition of “high” society encompasses more than just Park Ave. socialite, Ivy Leaguers, Woody Allen Intellectuals, and Hollywood’s finest. As depicted in mother!, people who possess any amount of privilege in society are under attack. 

The film is cyclical, both on micro and macro levels. Lawrence’s character exasperatingly attempts to preserve order in her environment, which is not unlike the selfless role of the mother in the domestic space. However, her efforts are perpetually thwarted by the invaders. It is a Sisyphus myth; despite one’s efforts to produce something or establish order, everything will always be dismantled.

For one painful reason or another, we are living in an ‘Age of Absurdity’ – especially as we experience our own Sisyphus-esque nightmare with historical and political repetition. I don’t pretend to take the cyclical terror lightly. Through its bizarre scenarios, visuals, and themes, mother! successfully harnesses, complicates, exploits, and displaces our anger into something rather ineffable - not dissimilar to Lawrence’s character’s own agony and confusion. That is not to suggest that mother! distracts us from legitimate horrors of today. Contrarily, mother! reaffirms the power of our own incense, and as such, its deliberate assault on the audience demands a response from every single viewer. Indolence is simply unacceptable.

I have to express my gratitude to Paramount for taking this risk… and the subsequent catastrophe despite a shrewd marketing campaign. If not for the studio’s imprudence or overzealous desperation for a change of scenery (see - or don’t see - Baywatch, xXx: The Return of Xander Cage, Ghost in the Shell, or Transformers: The Last Knight), mother! would be another inaccessible arthouse darling. Its wide release has amplified the polarizing and impassioned conversation. mother! has given us a reason to shout; I don't expect to see a more arousing film this year.

By any means necessary, go see it, be incensed, and then realize how productive and life-affirming anger can be. mother! may be yanked from the Cineplexes soon, but take heed: mother! won’t be buried.

If for no other reason, see it for Michelle Pfeiffer. She’s a hoot.

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2013 ACADEMY AWARD PREDICTIONS

Oscar parties aren’t complete without a cute, little ballot competition—even if the prize amounts to a jumbo box of candy or a Starbuck’s gift card. The key to winning this vitally important game of strategy is not having taste or even having seen all the contenders; it’s about doing your research and understanding trends. The Oscars, more than any other award show, are ALL about politics… but that goes without saying. I may not Remember the Titans, but I do remember when Denzel Washington took home the Best Actor statuette for Training Day. So if the Oscars have little credibility, why do we care? We need something to get through the winter... and let's be honest, this past Superbowl was more soporific than an overdose of NyQuil. This is a bang-up little guide to help you act like the pretentious prick in the room who claims to know everything. --Robert Sevenich

BEST PICTURE

WILL WIN: 12 Years a Slave

SHOULD WIN: 12 Years a Slave

WHY: I can’t remember the last time there was such a tight Best Picture race. (Let’s take a brief moment to reflect on the greatest sin of omission: Inside Llewyn Davis. I had to say my piece like every other snob.) As the dust settles after the other award shows, it seems there are three films vying for the top prize: 12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, and Gravity. All three were unanimously acclaimed and wildly popular with audiences. Although 12 Years a Slave was released in the early fall, it has seen fairly consistent praise and hasn’t lost any of the initial momentum. It’s also the kind of stirring biopic that the Academy likes to laud. In most cases, they overlook other brilliant original works in order to recognize amiable, emotionally manipulative true stories (e.g. Gandhi, A Beautiful Mind, The King’s Speech), but this year, 12 Years a Slave deserves all the praise it can get.

OTHER THINGS TO CONSIDER: Some critics and audiences feel that it is emotionally exacerbated and historically extorted. People have also had a problem with Brad Pitt (a white male and incidentally the film’s co-producer) and his act of deus ex machina. But let's not rewrite history for the sake of being politically appropriate; a white dude probably emancipate Solomon Northup. Also, Gravity has all the technical prizes locked including Director, but if the Academy wishes to showcase one film this year, Gravity will inevitably sweep everything and win Best Picture. I wouldn’t be surprised if American Hustle causes an upset either; it won the Golden Globe and has had an awesome marketing campaign… even if the movie is nothing more than glossy, big-haired boredom. If the cards fall right, the Academy may evenly distribute the awards—especially if Lawrence loses to Nyong’o and Her takes the prize for Best Original Screenplay.

BEST DIRECTOR

WILL WIN: Alfonso Cuarón for Gravity

SHOULD WIN: Alfonso Cuarón for Gravity

WHY: Gravity may not have been the best movie of the year, but it was arguably the best directed movie of the year. Disregarding the pretty shitty screenplay, Gravity was astounding on every technical and emotional level.

DARK HORSE: Steve McQueen for 12 Years a Slave. Customarily, the recipients for Best Picture and Best Director are locked together at the knees, even if the direction is not the best aspect of the movie [remember when David Fincher (The Social Network) lost to Tom Hooper (The King’s Speech)?]. On another note, Steve McQueen is Black. Yes, I said it. There have only been two other Black directors nominated for this award: John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood) & Lee Daniels (Precious: Based on the Novel PUSH by Sapphire). Dare I say that “race” could have a trumping factor in the race?

BEST LEADING ACTOR:

WILL WIN: Matthew McConaughey for Dallas Buyers Club

SHOULD WIN: Anyone but Bale… but I think Bruce Dern in Nebraska gave the year’s strongest male performance.

WHY: This category has the stiffest competition. There hasn’t been a collection of nominations this good in a very long time. There were SEVERAL incredible performances that could have—and should have—made the cut, including Tom Hanks (Captain Phillips), Robert Redford (All is Lost), Oscar Isaac (Inside Llewyn Davis), and Joaquin Phoenix (Her). Matthew McConaughey was indeed brilliant, looked completely emaciated (invaluable brownie points for voters), and won the Globe and SAG award (the SAG is the best indication of who will eventually win the Oscar). Bruce Dern, the Cannes Film Festival winner, gave the most comedic, crass, and painfully nuanced performance in Nebraska. If he ends up on top, the win won’t be dubbed as a “Lifetime Achievement Award.”

BLACK BEAUTY: Leonardo DiCaprio in The Wolf of Wall Street. Leo still doesn’t have his golden dildo. Let’s be honest, he was absolute dynamite in Da Woof of Whale Street. I think America (myself included) will flood the streets in jubilation if he wins.

BEST LEADING ACTRESS

WILL WIN: Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine

SHOULD WIN: Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine

WHY: Blanchett was a delicious revelation in Blue Jasmine. It was not just the best performance of this year, but is now one of the lasting performances of cinema. Her win for Woody Allen's blisteringly ridiculous character would be the most justified of the entire ceremony. It’s (nearly) a lock.

DARK HORSE: Amy Adams in American Hustle. Adams is America’s Sweetheart. She has been nominated five times and is the only nominee in this category who has never won. If voters want to award American Hustle (and the Hollywood A-lister) in some way, she could beat Blanchett. Unfortunately she wasn’t nominated for Supporting Actress for Her—the year’s most understated performance. Also, after the nominations were announced and Blanchett swept literally every other trophy, Woody Allen (Blue Jasmine’s writer/director) became the subject of some negative attention—though is anyone really surprised about the allegations? Could this backfire and leave Cate empty handed? Probably not, but Crash did win Best Picture.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

WILL WIN: Jared Leto in Dallas Buyers Clubs

SHOULD WIN: Jared Leto in Dallas Buyers Club (so long as he refrains from making more disrespectful and downright stupid statements about how he did research by “living” among the trans community… whatever the hell that means.)

WHY: He was the best and will win. You can take this guess to the bank.

DARK HORSE: None.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

WILL WIN: Lupita Nyong’o in 12 Years a Slave

SHOULD WIN: Lupita Nyong’o in 12 Years a Slave

WHY: Watch 12 Years a Slave, and then you can answer that question yourself.

SOMETHING TO CONSIDER: Jennifer Lawrence is infallible; I have never written anything truer. She’s funny, fierce, and super fun—though woefully miscast—in American Hustle. Had she not won last year for O’Russell’s Silver Linings Playbook, I’d put my money on her. Even with a Leading Actress statuette, she has an excellent chance of winning her first Supporting Actress statuette. She and Nyong’o are the critical and commercial favorites—not to mention they are ungodly beautiful. Who wouldn't want to watch them walk across the stage?

BEST WRITING, ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

WILL WIN: 12 Years a Slave

SHOULD WIN: Before Midnight

WHY: Since we can assume Gravity will win Best Director and ALL the technical awards, 12 Years a Slave is likely to take home a solid and worthy trio of statuettes: Best Picture, Supporting Actress, and Adapted Screenplay. Historically speaking, the Best Picture winner has a complementing award for Director or Screenplay (in many cases both). It’s hard to imagine 12 Years a Slave will only win Picture and Supporting Actress—but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Though I’m elated the discreet charmer Before Midnight—the final installment of the "Before" Trilogy—crept into the race at all, Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy ought to have a consolation prize for their 3-decade-long commitment to Céline and Jesse. After all, The Return of the King cleaned house in 2003. Is it too much to ask for the Academy to give the trio a small token of our appreciation?

DARK HORSE: The Wolf of Wall Street. The film is fantastic for so many reasons, but Terence Winter’s razor-sharp, cynical screenplay truly carries Scorsese’s direction and Leo’s bravura performance. Voters may feel a mere nomination doesn’t do justice. And I would have to agree.

BEST WRITING, ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

WILL WIN: Her

SHOULD WIN: Her

WHY: This is far and away the hardest category to predict. The “Original Screenplay” Oscar gives the Academy the opportunity to recognize the audacious, innovative sleeper hits that stimulate our wits and warm our hearts—for example Lost In Translation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Little Miss Sunshine, and Juno. Her seems to fit that mold perfectly… and rightly so. It is the superlative meditation on the search for intimacy and human connection.

DARK HORSE: American Hustle. There's a chance O’Russell’s American Hustle could snatch it away. If there’s any award the film is likely to win, unfortunately it’s this one. If only it were nominated for “Best Hair & Makeup.” It could win that award (and nothing else) and--at the end of the day--still be distinguished as an “Oscar Winner.” I guess dreams don't come true. Instead, they crash and burn.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

WILL WIN: Frozen

SHOULD WIN: The Wind Rises 

WHY: Hayao Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises is uncommonly breathtaking, but unfortunately no one has seen it. The Disney Animation Studios, unlike Studio Ghibli, have yet to win this award. Frozen was truly great—not to mention a box-office rock star. It may have labored a little too hard to untangle the traditional problematic “Disney” themes and plot devices, but its earnest efforts and subversive attention alone are worth praising. I hate to break it to you, Pixar, but Disney has officially reclaimed the keys to the Magic Kingdom.

DARK HORSE: None.

BEST MUSIC, ORIGINAL SONG

WILL WIN: “Ordinary Love” from Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom

SHOULD WIN: “Let It Go” from Frozen

WHY: I have no doubt Walt Disney is turning over in his grave knowing that the shrill “Let It Go” has already inspired countless drag performances. I’m really not as fond of the ballad as every other tween, queen, or musical theatre junkie, but god bless Frozen’s creative team for attempting to revive the animated musical in the tradition of the Howard Ashman/Alan Menken era of the early nineties. But remember: the Oscars are really just a political convention... and Nelson Mandela just passed, so you can trust that U2 will win for “Ordinary Love.”

DARK HORSE: “Let It Go” from Frozen

OTHER CATEGORIES

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY: Gravity

BEST ART DIRECTION-SET DECORATION: The Great Gatsby

BEST COSTUME DESIGN: The Great Gatsby

BEST FILM EDITING: Gravity

BEST SOUND MIXING: Gravity

BEST SOUND EDITING: Gravity

BEST HAIR & MAKEUP: Dallas Buyers Club

BEST MUSIC, ORIGINAL SCORE: Gravity

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS: Gravity

BEST FOREIGN-LANGUAGE FILM: The Broken Circle Breakdown (Belgium)

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: The Act of Killing

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Robert Sevenich's Best Movies of 2013

The Top 10 Films of the Year:

1. 12 YEARS A SLAVE (Fox Searchlight)

The rumors are true: not only does 12 Years a Slave head the intimidating lineup of 2013’s best movies, but it’s also an unqualified masterpiece of disturbing power. Not since Spielberg’s Schindler’s List has a historical drama so effectively juxtaposed such unspeakable cruelty with great human empathy. Certainly earlier films have respectfully portrayed American Slavery, the shame of our nation, but Steve McQueen’s bleak new vision feels uncommonly precarious. It has a profound sense of urgency, stripping the subject of all things antiquated, making it a pervasive concern of the present moment. Although Chiwetel Ejiofor, Michael Fassbender, Sarah Paulson (in all her wicked wonder), Alfre Woodard, and the radiant Lupita Nyong’o amplify the film’s overall impact, much of its power lies in the keen point of view that McQueen engenders. With the exception of one inconsistent sequence, we are only exposed to Solomon Northup’s reality; we see other characters come and go and feel the turbulence and instability of Northup’s twelve years. This deliberate channel has an alienating effect but never curtails the emotional punch. Typically, biopics too often resort to the unnecessary glorification of the protagonists, but McQueen makes a bold move and only uses Northup as a lens for us to witness the atrocities of history. He is passive--certainly not a hero--but still an invaluable presence. Yes, Jessica Lange and her troupe of stellar actors and writers continue shake us to the bone with their terrifying television anthology, but nothing deserves the subtitle “American Horror Story” more than 12 Years a Slave.

2. HER (Warner Bros. Pictures)

Our identities no longer only extend the limits of our physical or mental edifice; we are now hyperactive beings with nearly infinite connections to the external world. In a way, we possess synthetic extremities that carry our personalities and imaginations well beyond our shells.We are most confident expressing ourselves on Facebook and through online dating (or hookups). Now, everything feels possible. Spike Jones’ earnest science fiction “comedy” Her is about a man--functioning more like a machine--who falls in love with his artificial operating system, who behaves exactly like a human. For a metaphysical romance with a somewhat creepy framework, it’s remarkably compassionate toward humankind; it refrains from approaching the issue of artificial intelligence with cynicism and paranoia but instead with tenderness and optimism. Unlike the bulk of the movies released this year, the characters in Her are all good-natured and have a real longing to communicate their appreciation and love for others. It feels lonely and intimate all at once. Her is not a satire but an affirmation of life--a tapestry woven from sincere feeling. Jones brilliantly challenges our accustomed notion of consciousness and superbly captures the zeitgeist of tomorrow. Or maybe even later today.

3. THE WIND RISES (Studio Ghibli & Touchtone Pictures)

I’ll incriminate myself: I couldn’t wait until February to see the film labeled as Hayao Miyazaki’s “farewell masterpiece,” so I watched a bootlegged version online. I don’t condone piracy, but I can’t say I regret tapping into the black market to see this gentle gem. I promise, come its official U.S. release in two months, I’ll see it again. The Wind Rises, the magnum opus of Miyazaki's career, is a lovely and painfully beautiful biopic, fable of love, and interim wartime narrative echoing Grave of the Fireflies (1988), soars with a clearer beauty and poeticism than in almost all animated pictures. How fitting that Miyazaki's swan song is a tender portrait of an aeronautical engineer--or more appropriately understood as an "artist" or a "dreamer." In his final act of love which seamlessly dances between realism and surrealism, Miyazaki--perhaps cinema's greatest dreamer--calls upon all the elements of nature (wind, fire, water, snow) to illustrate his deep empathy for the human spirit. While the film is rapturous on a grand scale--with breathtaking scenery and an incredible earthquake sequence--it is the small, quietest moments that linger in our minds and hearts: two people walking side by side in the rain, the shadow of a rolling train along the grassy fields, a heartbreaking reunion in a bustling train station, tears drops soaking the pages of a book, and ashes falling in the hair of a child. If Miyazaki is indeed saying goodbye with The Wind Rises, I am thankful he has done it so gracefully and completely. It is an everlasting wonder.

4. BEFORE MIDNIGHT (Sony Pictures Classics)

After nine years, we are reunited with our longtime pals, Jesse and Céline, in Richard Linklater’s complex and charming third installment of his “Before” trilogy. Although Before Midnight is just as witty, spontaneous, and funny as its predecessors, Jesse and Céline are no longer in the courtship phase of their relationship. The movie is not a light romantic comedy. They have gotten off the train in Vienna, Jesse’s flight departed from Paris, and now the sun has set in paradise. Céline and Jesse have had all that heaven allows, and we are left with scenes from their marriage. We observe the wear and tear of time has had on them. Together, Director Linklater and co-writers and stars Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke descend into a realm of darkness. While the film is wonderfully intimate, it’s also frustrating because things don't play out like we expect them to--like we want them to. But isn't that the nature of love? The film is so honest that it almost transcends criticism altogether. Linklater hasn’t so much expanded upon the characters and their idiosyncrasies; he has made them more complete. We continue to admire them for their anger and boundless passion--as damaging and fulfilling as it is. Before Midnight marks the profound evolution of cinema’s most sincere and loquacious saga of love and commitment.

5. INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS (CBS Films & StudioCanal)

In a year dominated by “dramedies,” how is it that the year’s funniest movie is also the saddest? Only Joel & Ethan Coen can answer that question. The Coen Brothers are lords of deadpan and flippant antics, and their latest taciturn masterwork is no exception. Inside Llewyn Davis is a poignant (and unsentimental) portrait of a passionate but chronically dissatisfied soul. Llewyn Davis (played beautifully by Oscar Isaac) is a fading folk artist who cannot overcome his artistic and emotional paralysis and leave behind personal tragedy. The film is literally saturated in gloom and grief; Bruno Delbonnel’s cinematography is a moody filter of real ingenuity. The culmination of miry images and the Coen Brother’s glacial pacing makes the picture feel like a shroud of despondency over our entire bodies. The film, however, is not a condemnation of those who seek self-fulfillment through creative expression but rather a merciful paean--one that's so bittersweet and true, like a great Bob Dylan song, we are moved to tears. While the film may be an act of fictional storytelling, the Coen Brothers carefully evoke the spirit of an ephemeral era so much so that it becomes a historical document of an understated legend. 

6. BLUE JASMINE (Sony Pictures Classics)

It was easy to fawn over Woody Allen’s last hit, Midnight in Paris (2011). It was a sweet nostalgic love song to the city of eternal romance and those who long for simpler, carefree eras. Blue Jasmine, a transgressive, cynical, and utterly delicious re-imagining (or straight-up rip-off) of Tennessee William’s A Streetcar Named Desire, may be Allen’s best work since 1989’s Crimes & Misdemeanors. At the axis of this very dark and cruel comedy is Cate Blanchett—an actor who, time and time again, has proven herself a force of nature. Jasmine French, a name that reeks of phoniness, is a New York socialite of the highest order until her luxurious and decadent world crumbles. She is left broke, unemployed, single, and completely insane. She moves to San Francisco to live with her estranged sister in order to reinvent her image—much like Blanche DuBois. Self-diluted, egocentric, and regularly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Jasmine is concurrently hysterical and horrifying. Blanchett’s performance may seem exaggerated, but I know individuals like Jasmine French, and sometime I see myself in Jasmine French. These similarities make watching the film all the more entertaining… and frightening. Since this is the case, why then aren’t more people obsessed with this movie? I don’t care what the aimless French porno believes; blue is still the coldest color.

7. THE WOLF OF WALL STREET (Paramount Pictures)

Leave it to Martin Scorsese to make the movie I wanted the tonally confused and overrated American Hustle to be—the movie it should be. The Wolf ofWall Street is shamelessly irreverent, wildly abrasive, and completely captivating at its nearly 3-hour run time. Scorsese rarely shies away from shock, but this film is easily his most inappropriate feat to date. If you can get over nonstop f-bombs, graphic nudity, pervasive cocaine snorting, misogyny, and the exploitation of little people, you’ll find The Wolf of Wall Street to be a riotous and clever satire. In the hands of a less capable filmmaker, the film could easily drown in vanity and gratuitous gluttony. But capitalizing on Terence Winter’s pitiless narration and shrewd indictment of corporate America, Scorsese employs cinematic excess to combat cultural excess while keeping a consistent and callous tone throughout the picture. 

8. CAPTAIN PHILLIPS (Columbia Pictures)

It’s possible that Captain Phillips distorts truth and lionizes its protagonist more than necessary, but its hard to deny that Paul Greengrass has made one heck of a movie. Chronically the 2009 hijacking of an American cargo ship by Somali pirates, Director Greengrass (The Bourne Ultimatum & United 93) once again drags us through hell and back. Boasted by two harrowing performances by Tom Hanks and Barkhad Abdi, this energetic film is not merely stimulation for the physical senses, but an unsentimental violation of the human soul. While the end result absolutely reverberates a spirit of American Patriotism, there is an undercurrent of desolation in its soul, for there is still such stratified disparity that exists in the gaps between worlds. In Greengrass’ universe, nothing is ever definitively black or white.

9. GRAVITY (Warner Bros. Pictures)

Laughable screenwriting aside, Gravity is an incomparable mood piece and visual wonder; the 3-D effects alone are enough to make you believe in movie magic and remember why going to the theater is still totally worth it. From the dazzling first few frames of Earth from space all the way to the triumphant final image, Gravity elevates the meaning of “breathtaking.” Similar to Kubrick and his masterpiece 2001, Director Alfonso Cuarón and Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki choreograph a rare kind of galactic space ballet. The entire experience has a haunting visceral effect; we feel at once alone in the infinite universe and part of an interconnected life force. Some may feel Gravity is merely a sharp artifice of technical filmmaking, but even so, it is an absolute thrill. After Sandra Bullock’s pity win for The Blind Side, I was convinced she’d never be nominated for another Oscar. Boy, I was wrong.

10. PHILOMENA (BBC Films & The Weinstein Company)

I’m always prepared to berate movies that aim to emotionally manipulate audiences. Saving Mr. Banks, an offensive “apology” from the Disney Studios to P.L. Travers, is the pinnacle of shamefully maudlin filmmaking. Not only did it sugarcoat essential facts regarding its subject, but it insulted my own intelligence as a member of the audience. I assumed Philomena, the true story of an older woman for her baby wrongfully taken away from her by the Catholic Church, would exacerbate my displeasure for sentimental biographical pictures. To my surprise, Philomena not only respectfully raises spirits, it ignites erudite conversation and affirms the belief that people can be devout and still raise hell in the name of justice. Director Stephen Frears—the genius behind Dangerous Liaisons (1988), The Grifters (1990), and The Queen (2006)—empathetically brings co-star Steve Coogan’s screenplay to life… with humor and pain. The Queen of the Screen, Dame Judi, gives us another reason to weep and fall victim to her spell. She’s a real heartbreaker.

Another 10 too good to pass up:

AIN’T THEM BODIES SAINTS

THE BROKEN CIRCLE BREAKDOWN

BYZANTIUM

DALLAS BUYERS CLUB

FRANCES HA

FROZEN

THE GREAT BEAUTY

THE HUNT

NEBRASKA

THE SPECTACULAR NOW

Best Directors:

Alfonso Cuarón for Gravity

Steve McQueen for 12 Years a Slave

Spike Jones for Her

Martin Scorsese for The Wolf of Wall Street

Hayao Miyazaki for The Wind Rises

Best Leading Performances (Male):

Bruce Dern in Nebraska

Tom Hanks in Captain Phillips

Chiwetel Ejiofor in 12 Years a Slave

Mads Mikkelsen in The Hunt

Joaquin Phoenix in Her

Best Leading Performances (Female):

Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine

Adéle Exarchopoulos in Blue is the Warmest Color

Judi Dench in Philomena

Greta Gerwig in Frances Ha

Sandra Bullock in Gravity 

Best Supporting Performances (Male):

Jared Leto in Dallas Buyers Club

Michael Fassbender in 12 Years a Slave 

Barkhad Abdi in Captain Phillips

Kyle Chandler in The Spectacular Now

Ben Foster in Ain't Them Bodies Saints

Best Supporting Performances (Female):

Lupita Nyong’o in 12 Years a Slave

Sally Hawkins in Blue Jasmine

Amy Adams in Her

Jennifer Lawrence in American Hustle

Sarah Paulson in 12 Years a Slave 

Best Ensembles:

12 Years a Slave

Inside Llewyn Davis

Her

The Wolf of Wall Street

American Hustle

Best Original Screenplays:

Her

Inside Llewyn Davis 

Nebraska

Blue Jasmine 

Frances Ha

Best Adapted Screenplays:

Before Midnight

The Wolf of Wall Street

12 Years a Slave

Byzantium

Captain Phillips

Best Documentaries:

The Act of Killing

Stories We Tell

56 Up

Blackfish

The Armstrong Lie

Best Foreign-Language Films:

The Wind Rises (Japan)

The Great Beauty (Italy)

The Hunt (Denmark)

The Broken Circle Breakdown (Belgium)

The Past (France)

Best Cinematography:

Gravity

Inside Llewyn Davis

12 Years a Slave

Blue is the Warmest Color

Ain't Them Bodies Saints

Best Film Editing:

Gravity

The Wolf of Wall Steet

Captain Phillips

12 Years a Slave 

American Hustle

Best Set & Costume Designs:

Her

Byzantium

12 Years a Slave 

The Great Gatsby

The Great Beauty

Best Original Scores:

Joe Hisaishi for The Wind Rises 

William Butler & Andy Koyama for Her

Lele Marchitelli for The Great Beauty

Steven Price for Gravity

Alexandre Desplat for Philomena

We all make mistakes... some more than others:

The Great Gatsby

Oz The Great and Powerful

After Earth

Gangster Squad

To the Wonder

[idontrememberthetitans]

SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION (1993): Social Darwinism Pushed Beyond All Limits

Written by John Guare & Directed by Fred Schepisi 

Metro Goldwyn Mayer (USA)

Rated R for language and some nudity/sexuality.

In its most desperate and pathetic form, Social Darwinism—survival of the fittest—is very much alive in privileged American society. As we toil endlessly for others’ approval in or above our social sphere, we exhaust every quip, literary and political citation, and jocular yarn in our reservoir. The art of drawing attention at parties with shrewd anecdotes is an infallible method. The most successful socialites tactfully recycle and convey stories from their lives. “Did I ever tell you about that time…” and “Wait until you hear about…” are frequent ploys to entice audiences with outlandish retellings of our ironic happenings. Hence, our life experiences are reduced to humors but trivial anecdotes for us to “dine out on.” We share our stories and experiences through long strings of hashtags and selfies, which consequently simplifies us. In a sense, we become running jokes.

Six Degrees of Separation (1993)—a contemporary comedy of manners—is a frisky, philosophically canny, and disarmingly dark critique of stratified high society and the sad compromise of profound life experiences for cheap anecdotes. The film is bursting with more profound themes, motifs, and elevated language than one cannot possibly process at once. It explores the idea that everyone on the planet is separated by only six other people. Considering we are all so close, we are simultaneously comforted and tortured with the multitude of connections waiting to be explored—doors waiting to be opened. How do we find the right six people to make the connection, and with whom is it worth laboring to form a bond? John Guare’s play and screenplay are inspired by the true story of a con-artist who skillfully fooled a group of New York aristocrats into believing that he was the son of Sidney Poitier.  

In the film, Paul—a silver-tongued young Black man—shows up at Flan Kittredge, a successful art dealer, and wife Ouisa’s Central Park apartment after claiming to have been stabbed. He says he is friends with the Kittredge’s children at Harvard and the son of Sidney Poitier—who is in the city casting a movie version of Cats. Paul instantly woos Ouisa and Flan with his sharp rhetoric and esoteric knowledge of art and literature. Paul fills the Kittredge’s night with lively discussion and fine cooking, so naturally they invite him to stay the night. The next morning, however, they find him with a male escort and kick him out. After sharing their bizarre misadventure with friends, they come to realize that Paul has duped many others with the same stories. After much investigation, they learn that “Paul” is nothing more than a homeless conman who forced his way into the lives of others. This realization impels Flan and Ouisa on a playful, but ultimately tragic, search for the kid known as “Paul.”

As a high comedy, Six Degrees is particularly concerned with satirizing the affectations and shortcomings of people in the highest societal echelon. The exclusiveness is revealed through the juxtaposition of the socialites with those who totter on the periphery—individuals in lower classes representing marginalized populations. Flan and Ouisa operate in a world of money-grubbers with discriminating taste, highbrow observation, liberal sensibilities, Ivy League degrees, and ample time to run foundations, attend galas, and take weekend trips to Rome. They have their own exhausting language packed with pedantic knowledge and inside jokes which inadvertently alienates those on the outside. The film is essentially a mental exercise for us, testing our own endurance and ability to keep up with their pace. 

While they live well beyond “comfortable” means, money and personal finances still cause Ouisa and Flan great anxiety. Wealthier people with more fame and connections captivate them, proving Ouisa and Flan are in a perpetual state of wanting more than what they have. Paul, their foil, also desires more than what he has, though it is never definitively stated. He’s young, Black, gay, and homeless embodying many of society’s marginalized groups. By a stroke of genius, he successfully learns the rules of the game—drawing upon every bit of imagination—and imitates the lifestyle for which he longs. We learn that the characters’ overarching goals are not monetary but deeply personal; they want to feel connected with others—hence “six degrees of separation.” If we think about our potential connections to others, we’ll drive ourselves crazy. This theme is brilliantly expressed through the recurring motif of Sistine Chapel’s Michelangelo painting. The piece depicts God’s creation of Adam and their point of contact. Throughout the film, Ouisa and Flan recall taking a lift up to the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and “slapping” the hand of God, once again reinforcing their desire to feel close to others.       

                                                  It’s been said that life imitates art; Six Degrees of Separation uses a Kandinsky painting (along with Michelangelo’s painting) as a metaphor of the human soul. The Kandinsky, the Kittredge’s prized possession, is painted on both sides of the canvas: one side geometric and controlled, the other vivid and chaotic. Humans are similar to the painting, vacillating between states of control and chaos. Even the most confident controlled individuals have poignant moments of vulnerability. At times, we have such an acute understanding of who we are in the world, and other times we are random… “like a collage of unaccounted for brush strokes.” Six Degrees, as a complete piece of art, is a rich and gorgeous mess.

Some of John Guare’s “theatrical” elements  from  the play don’t translate well to the intimate medium of film. For example, a few performances—including the underdeveloped Will Smith as Paul—feel a little embellished and unnecessarily grand when incarnated on screen. Some of the play’s monologues interrupt the comfortable, quick pace and break our attention. Though much of the film’s genius is credited to Guare, Director  Fred Schepisi’s confident directing keeps Six Degrees from becoming a dramedy driven by talking heads. Schepisi uses an interspersed episodic framing device of sharing anecdotes. His alacritous intercutting between reoccurring gestures, symbols, and lines sustains our curiosity throughout the picture.

The film’s only Oscar nomination was for the incandescent Stockard Channing’s masterful performance as Ouisa Kittredge. She is a delicious metropolitan matriarch who shrewdly dominates every social scenes, but she has moments of true grace, empathy, and underlying sadness—all beautifully embodied in the final scene. Channing is better known as a successful stage and television actor, but I sincerely hope she circles back to motion pictures soon and finds herself the lead.

Watch the trailer: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWr5hBNWBOI

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Top 10 Neo-Noir

1. BODY HEAT (1981)

2. THE GRIFTERS (1990)

3. BOUND (1996)

4. THE LAST SEDUCTION (1994)

5. MULHOLLAND DRIVE (2001)

6. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (2011)

7. BATMAN: MASK OF THE PHANTASM (1993)

8. MEMENTO (2001)

9. BLADE RUNNER: THE FINAL CUT (1982, 2007)

10. BRICK (2005)

[idontrememberthetitans]

POETRY (2010): Life Without Instagram Filters

Directed by Chang-dong Lee

Kino International (South Korea)

Unrated, but contains depictions of strong thematic material.

“When one has no words, how does one think?” asks Iris Murdoch, a prolific philosopher and writer whose brilliance was challenged by the effects of Alzheimer’s disease. In contrast, when one cannot think, how can one find words? This paring of questions is the chief artistic conundrum when exploring portrayals of dementia and other memory deteriorating conditions. The medium of film miraculously renders emotions that are almost impossible to articulate in words. In recent years, films about aging individuals have rightly become popular among critical spheres—and audiences.

Films like Amour (2012), Away From Her (2007), and Iris (2001) are indeed masterpieces of nuanced beauty and unspeakable heartache. Though they all have somber tones, they seek closure in the midst of the fleeting lives portrayed on screen. Incidentally, “dementia” movies have a tendency to succumb to exploitation (i.e. The Notebook). In a sense, the Alzheimer’s victims are displayed so that we—the audience—have a cathartic reaction to their failing quality of life; doesn’t it strangely validate our own healthy salubrious youth? Where most films look at the impact of Alzheimer’s on those caring for the victims, Poetry (2010), a devastating and poignant film from South Korea, looks at one woman’s solitary struggle to understanding the fading universe around her.

Faced with a recent Alzheimer's diagnosis in the midst of a horrific and grisly family crime, Mija—an aging, good-natured housemaid—begins a poetry class, desperate to find words to describe beauty before language escapes her completely. She is the sole guardian of her grandson, Jongwook, who is blamed for the suicide of his classmate, Heejin, whom he and his friends raped repeatedly during and after school. As guilt and responsibility overwhelm her consciousness; poetry is her way of lessening pain and freeing her memory from despair. Gradually, Mija herself becomes a kind of poem reflecting on what it means to really see the world without an Instagram filter. 

Poetry’s bookends are simultaneously laced with disquieting and consoling tones. The film opens with a wide, extended shot of a schoolgirl’s body floating down a river. The sequence feels disconnected from the story to which we are soon introduced, that is until we realize that the body belonged to Heejin. The puzzling ending involves two abrupt departures (or disappearances); Mija doesn’t show up to her final poetry class, but mysteriously her poem does. As one of her classmates reads the poem aloud, the voice becomes that of Heejin. The poem transcends the “Self” and fuses with the spirit of another; the point of view shifts from Mija to Heejin from beyond the grave as she gives a message of love to those she left behind. Suddenly, the opening image of her lifeless body is no longer grim--but instead observed with tenderness.  

Though Poetry is infused with sumptuous photography and deft writing (which won the Cannes Film Festival prize for Best Screenplay), the film belong to veteran Korean actress Jeong-hie Yun (Mija). It would be easy for Yun to succumb to hyperbolized characterizations of mental illness like so many actors—but she resists. In one scene, Mija recounts before her class a time from her childhood when she felt truly beautiful and cherished. Lee keeps the camera directly on Yun, creating a perfect vessel to carry Mija’s confession to us. There are very few faces in cinema as sad as Yun’s in this scene--Yun strips the human heart completely bare. With her incredible vulnerability and Lee’s candor and complete empathy for Mija, the sequence is a heartbreaking and naked exposé of a great human weakness: the perpetual longing to revisit the past. Sadly, Mija’s memories are slipping away and she is left in darkness.

As perceptive as a sonnet, Poetry allows us to gradually process every beautiful and haunting moment as it gracefully unfolds before our senses. Lee gives his story the time and patience to breathe deeply. The soft imagery—as warm and delicate as a Monet painting—oddly offsets the disturbing thematic undertone, almost as if the cinematography is the way in which Mija wants to see the world contrary to the reality of life. It’s often difficult to decipher precisely what is going through Mija’s mind. We are so troubled, so morally conflicted by the themes expressed, that the film itself acts as a catalyst for our own bewilderment. The irony in Poetry is that its central conflict is so convoluted and excruciating that any human would have difficultly internally processing, regardless of one’s mental capacity. Mija’s grasp on her grandson’s trouble and the tragedy of Heejin’s death are not solely attributed to her Alzheimer’s; the situation is too large for any person to overcome alone.

To see the theatrical trailer, click the link below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fo2dfY317-k

[idontrememberthetitans]

ROSEMARY'S BABY (1968): Why getting raped and impregnated by the devil is no laughing matter.

     Directed by Roman Polanski

Paramount Pictures (USA)

Rated R for disturbing adult situations/language, and some violent images.

October: the time of year for Millennials to engage in cheeky apple-picking outings and zombie parties for the unimaginative, and--above all else--salivate over reruns of the cult classic Hocus Pocus. My new favorite tradition involves surrendering to the deliciously transgressive (and completely ridiculous) show American Horror Story. With each sexually-charged and terrifying mini season, the anthology series devilishly pays homage to the horror-trailblazers including Hitchcock (Psycho), Carpenter (Halloween), and De Palma (Carrie and Dressed to Kill). In the spirit of the genre, the incandescent troupe plays--without restraint--serial killers, poltergeists, sadistic nuns, southern gothic witches, extra-terrestrials, and spawns of the devil. The show’s most reoccurring plot devices are imbued with demonic possession. 

     Movies of this horror sub-genre, like The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), and recently The Conjuring (2013), serve as facile models for “spin-offs,” not only for their relentless gruesomeness and explicit depictions of Satan’s handiwork, but because they leave very little up to the imagination. Their horrific traits are unequivocal and fairly easy to mimic; they usually come at the expense of grotesque makeup and special effects. How often has the grisly demon-possessed character (who thrashes about the bed and speaks in tongues) been recycled in movies and shows? Often enough to get queasy at the sight of green pea soup. The most reputable and abiding horror comes from what cannot be seen directly... or cannot be seen at all. It is for this reason that Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968) remains an apex of terror in cinema. Much like Lucifer himself, the horror in Rosemary’s Baby is always obscured.

In describing the film’s premise, it’s hard not to make it sound pretty silly: Rosemary, a young woman suffering through a rough pregnancy, is afraid that her husband may have promised that their cooky elderly neighbors can use their baby to sacrifice in their supernatural rituals in exchange for his success in an acting career. During the pregnancy, she becomes emaciated and fearful that her baby will not grow to term. Rosemary’s predictions, however, are not wholly ratified; she is actually carrying the antichrist in her womb after being unknowingly impregnated by the Satan.  We suspect this may be the case long before Rosemary does. This is why we squirm in our seats; there is nothing we can do to warn Rosemary of the wicked scheme against her. Yes, this precarious plot is psychologically compelling enough to hold one’s attention for two hours, but Mia Farrow’s tour-de-force performance and the sophisticated blend of psychological tension and droll taste make Rosemary’s Baby better than just a creepy American horror story.

Rosemary’s Baby’s themes of paranoia, conspiracy, and parasitic turmoil have become hallmarks of horror entertainment, but its sinister spirit has never been fully resurrected. Yes, Mia Farrow's pixie cut quickly became an icon of fashion in the late sixties and seventies, and one's ability to accurately references the movie gives him or her a kind of "pop" credibility, but to this day no filmmaker, avant-garde artist, or freak-show performer has effectively recreated the movie's disturbing qualities. Its tone may be somewhat diffident as it lacks the precision and confidence of Polanski’s later works, Chinatown (1974) and The Pianist (2002), but its modernity and psychedelic style inspire an inadvertent abstruseness--which translates to sheer terror. 

         Two sequences in particular help Rosemary’s Baby surpass the heaps of cheap thrills in other movies into a realm of unthinkable trepidation. The scene in which Rosemary is drugged and impregnated by the devil is the most accurate depiction of a feverish nightmare ever assembled on film. Plenty of filmmakers--from Hitchcock to Lynch--have tried to illustrate nightmares, but no vision has ever been more haunting and--frankly--spot-on than Polanski’s rendering. When Rosemary is “roofied” after dinner with her husband, she becomes drowsy, confused, and slips into a semi-unconscious state. Her dream is a psychological assembly of imagined and real figures--both menacing and comforting. She is guided through a hypnotic labyrinth of shifting locations and figures. Despite many paradoxes and inconsistencies, she accepts the reality of her dream... that is until the projection of her husband morphs into a hairy beast who penetrates her. She then screams, “This is no dream; this is really happening!” Throughout the entire scene, Polanski brilliantly juxtaposes fragments of dark beauty and strange brutality--Catholic symbolism and pagan imagery--proving to have a firm grasp on the evasive nature of nightmares.

In the end, after Rosemary gives birth and is told that the baby is stillborn, she hears the faint cries of a baby coming from the adjacent apartment. She grabs a long knife, enters a secret door into the neighbors’ apartment, and find a geriatric group positioned around a cradle draped in black. She confidently advances toward the cradle, pulls back the fabric, and gasps at the sight of the child. Unlike Spielberg’s late disclosure of the shark in Jaws, Roeg’s exposure of the “child” in the red jacket in Don’t Look Now, and Scott’s slow build to reveal the creature in Alien, we do not see Rosemary’s baby. Instead, we see her look of utter horror--which is more unbearable than the sight of any demonic baby. She asks, “What have you done? What have you done to its eyes?!” We do not see Polanski’s physical incarnation of the antichrist, but we are left alone with our imagination... which makes our blood run cold.

Oddly enough, Rosemary’s Baby has a wicked sense of humor all the way through. Five-time Oscar nominated screenwriter and actress Ruth Gordon finally won the well-deserved Best Supporting Actress prize for playing Minnie Castavet, the queer witch who lives next door. Gordon, a natural comedian whose writing credits include Adam’s Rib (1949) and Pat and Mike (1952), cunningly keeps the humor from slipping into farce. For example, in the end, when Rosemary cries at the sight of the child and drops the knife, Minnie pulls the knife out of the wood floor and rubs the dent with her finger before muttering under her breath, “Ah, shit.” Her quirky comedy doesn’t necessarily contradict or balance out the terror. It actually heightens it, demonstrating that the greatest dangers are hidden within seemingly innocuous presences. Also, the notion that a group of elderly Manhattan socialites are secret devil-worshipers is downright hysterical; you can’t help but chuckle when they cheer, “Hail Satan!” Conversely, the possibility that your grandparents and all of their friends are disciples of the devil is the scariest thought of all, right? 

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Top 50 Scariest Movies of All Time

Psycho (1960)

The Shining (1980)

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

The Night of the Hunter (1955)

The Exorcist (1973)

Repulsion (1965)

The Innocents (1961)

Antichrist (2009)

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)

Les Diaboliques (1959)

The Blair Witch Project (1999)

Carrie (1976)

Halloween (1978)

The Others (2001)

Funny Games (1997, 2006)

Alien (1979)

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The Sixth Sense (1999)

Don’t Look Now (1973)

Let the Right One In (2008)/Let Me In (2010)

Poltergeist (1982)

The Devil's Backbone (2001)

Jaws (1975)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)

The Ring (2002)

Dracula (1931)

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

The Omen (1976)

Black Swan (2010)

Misery (1990)

Rebecca (1940)

Eyes Without a Face (1959)

The Conjuring (2013)

Hour of the Wolf (1967)

Saw (2004)

Peeping Tom (1960)

The Haunting (1963)

Bug (2006)

Suspiria (1977)

Coraline (2009)

Jurassic Park (1993)

Deliverance (1972)

The Night of the Living Dead (1968)

The Mothman Prophecies (2002) 

Scream (1996)

The Strangers (2006)

The Cell (2000)

The Orphanage (2007)

Dressed to Kill (1980)

Drag Me To Hell (2008)

[idontrememberthetitans]

THE 100 GREATEST FILMS OF ALL TIME (Revised Anniversary Edition)

1. THE GODFATHER (1972, 1974, 1990)

Written by Mario Puzo and Written & Directed by Francis Ford Coppola (Paramount, USA)

2. SCHINDER’S LIST (1993)

Directed by Steven Spielberg (Universal, USA)

3. THE TREE OF LIFE (2011)

Written & Directed by Terrence Malick (Fox Searchlight, USA)

4. CITIZEN KANE (1941)

Produced, Written, & Directed by Orson Wells (RKO, USA)

5. THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939)

Directed by Victor Fleming (MGM, USA)

6. PSYCHO (1960)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (Paramount, USA)

7. CABARET (1972)

Directed by Bob Fosse (ABC Films, USA)

8. SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950)

Written & Directed by Billy Wilder (Paramount, USA)

9. PERSONA (1966)

Written & Directed by Ingmar Bergman (United Artists, Sweden)

10. 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968)

Directed by Stanley Kubrick (MGM, USA/UK)

11. WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (1966)

Written by Ernest Lehman & Directed by Mike Nichols (Warner Bros., USA)

12. E.T. THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL (1982)

Written by Melissa Mathison & Directed by Steven Spielberg (Universal, USA)

13. CASABLANCA (1942)

Directed by Michael Curtz (Warner Bros., USA)

14. THE LORD OF THE RINGS (2001, 2002, 2003)

Directed by Peter Jackson (New Line Cinema, USA/New Zealand)

15. GONE WITH THE WIND (1939)

Directed by Victor Fleming (MGM/Selznick Films, USA)

16. AMERICAN BEAUTY (1999)

Written by Alan Ball & Directed by Sam Mendes (DreamWorks, USA)

17. SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (1952)

Directed by Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly (MGM, USA)

18. STAR WARS (1977, 1980, 1983)

Written & Directed by George Lucas (20th Century Fox, USA)

19. ALL ABOUT EVE (1950)

Directed by Joseph Mankiewicz (20th Century Fox, USA)

20. THE LAST PICTURE SHOW (1971)

Directed by Peter Bogdonovich (Columbia, USA)

21. RAGING BULL (1980)

Directed by Martin Scorsese (United Artists, USA)

22. HOWARDS END (1992)

Produced by Ismail Merchant & Directed by James Ivory (Sony Pictures Classics, UK)

23. VERTIGO (1958)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (Paramount, USA)

24. APOCALYPSE NOW (1979)

Written & Directed by Francis Ford Coppola (Paramount, USA)

25. JULES AND JIM (1962)

Written & Directed by François Truffaut (Janus Films, France)

26. MARY POPPINS (1964)

Produced by Walt Disney & Directed by Robert Stevenson (Disney, USA)

27. ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND (2004)

Written by Charlie Kaufman & Directed by Michel Gondry (Focus Features, USA)

28. SPIRITED AWAY (2001)

Written & Directed by Hayao Miyazaki (Studio Ghibli, Japan)

29. REAR WINDOW (1954)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (Paramount, USA)

30. CITY LIGHTS (1931)

Written & Directed by Charles Chaplin (United Artists, USA)

31. THE SEARCHERS (1956)

Directed by John Ford (Warner Bros., USA)

32. BONNIE & CLYDE (1967)

Directed by Arthur Penn (Warner Bros., USA)

33. SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS (1937)

Produced by Walt Disney & Directed by David Hand (RKO/Disney, USA)

34. ON THE WATERFRONT (1954)

Directed by Elia Kazan (Columbia, USA)

35. IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946)

Directed by Frank Capra (Republic Pictures, USA)

36. THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991)

Written by Ted Tally & Directed by Jonathan Demme (Orion Pictures, USA)

37. NASHVILLE (1975)

Directed by Robert Altman (Paramount, USA)

38. A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE (1951)

Directed by Elia Kazan (Warner Bros., USA)

39. MULHOLLAND DRIVE (2001)

Written & Directed by David Lynch (Universal/Studio Canal, USA)

40. LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962)

Directed by David Lean (Columbia Pictures, UK)

41. THE GRADUATE (1967)

Written by Buck Henry & Directed by Mike Nichols (Embassy/United Artists, USA)

42. ANNIE HALL (1977)

Written & Directed by Woody Allen (United Artists, USA)

43. CHICAGO (2002)

Directed by Rob Marshall (Miramax, USA)

44. BICYCLE THIEVES (1949)

Directed by Vittorio de Sica (Umbrella Entertainment, Italy)

45. CHINATOWN (1974)

Written by Robert Towne & Directed by Roman Polanski (Paramount, USA)

46. REDS (1981)

Directed by Warren Beatty (Paramount, USA)

47. THE HOURS (2002)

Written by David Hare & Directed by Stephen Daldry (Paramount/Miramax, USA/UK)

48. NOTORIOUS

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (RKO, USA)

49. THE SIXTH SENSE (1999)

Written & Directed by M. Night Shyamalan (Hollywood Pictures, USA)

50. RASHÔMON (1950)

Directed by Akira Kurosawa (Janus Films, Japan)

51. THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (1940)

Written by John Barry & Directed by George Cukor (MGM, USA)

52. BREATHLESS (1959)

Written by François Truffaut & Directed by Jean-Luc Godard (Rialto/Studio Canal, France)

54. THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)

Directed by William Wyler (Samuel Goldwyn, USA)

54. NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1959)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (MGM, USA)

55. LA DOLCE VITA (1960)

Written & Directed by Federico Fellini (Pathé Consortium, Italy)

56. DR. STRANGELOVE

or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

Written & Directed by Stanley Kubrick (Columbia, USA/UK)

57. THE THIRD MAN (1949)

Written by Graham Greene & Directed by Carol Reed (Rialto/Studio Canal, UK)

58. MIDNIGHT COWBOY (1969)

Directed by John Schlesinger (United Artists, USA)

59. TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (1962)

Directed by Robert Mulligan (Universal, USA)

60. THE CONFORMIST (1970)

Written & Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci (Paramount, Italy)

61. SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959)

Written & Directed by Billy Wilder (United Artists, USA)

62. BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (1991)

Directed by Gary Trousdale & Kirk Wise (Disney, USA)

63. THE RULES OF THE GAME (1939)*

Directed by Jean Renoir (Janus Films, France)

64. JAWS (1975)

Directed by Steven Spielberg (Universal, USA)

65. THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1926)*

Directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer (Denmark)

66. DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944)

Written & Directed by Billy Wilder (Paramount, USA)

67. TOKYO STORY (1953)*

Directed by Yasujirô Ozo (Janus Films, Japan)

68. THE COLOR PURPLE (1985)

Directed by Steven Spielberg (Warner Bros., USA)

69. MOULIN ROUGE! (2001)

Directed by Baz Luhrmann (20th Century Fox, USA/Australia)

70. METROPOLIS (1927)*

Directed by Fritz Lang (Kino, Germany)

71. THERE WILL BE BLOOD (2007)

Written & Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (Paramount Vantage/ Miramax, USA)

72. THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965)

Directed by Robert Wise (20th Century Fox, USA)

73. THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING (1988)

Written & Directed by Philip Kaufman (Orion Pictures, USA)

74. FINDING NEMO (2003)

Directed by Andrew Stanton (Disney/Pixar, USA)

75. MELANCHOLIA (2011)

Written & Directed by Lars von Trier (Zentropa/Magnolia Pictures, Denmark)

76. 8 ½ (1963)

Written & Directed by Federico Fellini (Francinex, Italy)

77. SENSE AND SENSIBILITY (1995)

Written by Emma Thompson & Directed by Ang Lee (Columbia, USA/UK)

78. BLADE RUNNER: THE FINAL CUT (1982, 2007)

Directed by Ridley Scott (Warner Bros., USA)

79. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN (1998)

Directed by Steven Spielberg (DreamWorks/Paramount, USA)

80. PINOCCHIO (1940)

Produced by Walt Disney & Directed by Ben Sharpsteen & Hamilton Luske (Disney, USA)

81. ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST (1975)

Directed by Milôs Forman (Warner Bros., USA)

82. MICHAEL CLAYTON

Written & Directed by Tony Gilroy (Warner Bros., USA)

83. THE 400 BLOWS (1959)

Written & Directed by François Truffaut (Janus Films, France)

84. IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT (1934)

Directed by Frank Capra (Columbia, USA)

85. ATONEMENT (2007)

Written by Christopher Hampton & Directed by Joe Wright (Focus Features, UK)

86. SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1942)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (Universal, USA)

87. IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (2000)*

Written & Directed by Wong Kar Wai (USA Films, Hong Kong)

88. LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD (1961)

Written by Alain Robbe-Grillet & Directed by Alain Resnais (Rialto/StudioCanal, France)

89. TAXI DRIVER (1976)

Directed by Martin Scorsese (Columbia, USA)

90. BRINGING UP BABY (1938)

Directed by Howard Hawkes (Warner Bros., USA)

91. PATHER PANCHALI (1955)*

Written & Directed by Satyajit Ray (Sony Pictures Classics, India)

92. DO THE RIGHT THING (1989)

Written & Directed by Spike Lee (Universal, USA)

93. PARIS, TEXAS (1984)*

Written by Sam Shepard & Directed by Wim Wenders (Argos Films/Fox, West Germany)

94. SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS (1927)*

Directed by F.W. Murnau (20th Century Fox, USA)

95. PULP FICTION (1994)

Written & Directed by Quentin Tarantino (Miramax, USA)

96. THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962)

Directed by John Frankenheimer (United Artists, USA)

97. THE PIANO (1993)*

Written & Directed by Jane Campion (Miramax, Australia/New Zealand)

98. THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955)

Directed by Charles Laughton (United Artists, USA)

99. TRAFFIC (2000)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh (USA Films, USA)

100. BEFORE SUNRISE (1995) / BEFORE SUNSET (2004) / BEFORE MIDNIGHT (2012)*

Directed by Richard Linklater (Warner Independent/Sony Pictures Classics, USA)

*New Titles on the “Top 100 Films” List

Titles Removed:

FORREST GUMP (1994)

SLEEPING BEAUTY (1959)

REBECCA (1940)

THE PIANIST (2002)

TITANIC (1997)

KRAMER VS. KRAMER (1979)

FARGO (1996)

THE AFRICAN QUEEN (1951)

THE DEER HUNTER (1978)

THE GRAPES OF WRATH (1940)

NETWORK (1976)

LEAVING LAS VEGAS (1995)

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DOGVILLE (2003): A Place Not Too Far From Home

Directed by Lars von Trier

Rated R for violence including sequences of rape, and for sexual content.

Zentropa/Canal+/Lions Gate

“And they’ll pile up the bodies and I’ll say, ‘That’ll LEARN ya!’” So condemns Jenny--the berating plebeian maid from Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s sly musical The Threepenny Opera in the famed song “Pirate Jenny.” The song is Jenny’s condemning ballad as she fantasizes about avenging herself for the abuse she suffers from the townspeople. She imagines a pirate ship arriving in the harbor and annihilating the entire town. The pirates--she dreams--would come ashore, chain the civilians, and Jenny would order them to kill every civilian before sailing away with them. The song is a bruising exposé of tortuous retribution. 

Brecht, a modernist German playwright and social scientist, did not desire to reinvent the theatre medium, but rather destroy the “institution” of theatre and investigate its functions. His distinct aesthetic was first and foremost a forum for political and social propagation. He used the Defamiliarizing Effect (Verfremdungseffekt): removing the audience in such a way that prevents them from identifying or empathizing with the characters or action. Instead, they should view the presentation through a critical lens, so afterwards they are provoked to act. Brecht achieved this effect by stripping the play’s events of everything familiar and comfortable—ultimately crafting a harsh, demoralizing experience. His production elements and techniques were representations of life—not actually life itself—so the audience could always be reminded that it was “only a show.” 

Many artists have attempted to infuse their works with Brechtian attributes. The films of Jean-Luc Godard (Breathless and Pierot le fou), Nagisa Oshima (In the Realm of the Senses and Empire of Passion), and Rainer Werner Fassbinder (The Marriage of Maria Braun and Veronika Voss) bear many of Brecht’s trademarks. No director, however, has been able to unearth Brecht’s spirit (while cunningly exploiting his dogmas) more successfully than the Danish provocateur Lars von Trier. Whether you feel he’s the Messiah or the Antichrist, it’s almost impossible to discredit his uncompromising, daring visions. All of his films--brimming with Verfremdungseffekt--evoke a Brechtian temper... whether intentional or not. He claims the end results of so many of his films are grave misfires. When von Trier made a Holocaust picture, the product was Europa (1991): a hypnotic nightmare of an alternate post-war Germany. When he set out to make a musical, he created Dancer in the Dark (2000): a “kitchen-sink” re-imagining of Dead Man Walking and The Blair Witch Project. When he wanted to produce a horror film, he birthed the controversial Antichrist (2009): a misogynistic, gothic porno. And of course his masterpiece Melancholia (2011), a somber reckoning of the apocalypse, was his shot at making a disaster flick. However, in his trial to pay tribute to Brecht in Dogville (2003), he did just that... and brilliantly, I might add. 

The highly experimental and disputed Dogville, a film whose soul is equally chastising as Jenny in The Threepenny Opera, is a cynical embodiment of the tacit oppression of our “modern” American culture and deconstruction of “goodness.” Dogville, the first part of Lars von Trier’s incomplete “USA: Land of Opportunity” trilogy, portrays an isolated Colorado mountain town called Dogville during the 1920s. The civilians are good and unassuming; they contently live out their undemanding day-to-day business without qualms or complaints.

That is until Grace, an altruistic young woman fleeing a mysterious past, stumbles upon Dogville and meets Tom, a local writer, who persuades her to ask the town for refuge. The town, although wary of her request fearing that housing a potential fugitive could jeopardize their livelihood, allows her to stay--so long as she is a contributing member of their society. Grace courteously integrates herself into Dogville--helping the women with household duties, rearing the children, and even assisting in manual labor For her work, she is not paid but given food, shelter, and porcelain figurines as tokens of the town’s gratitude. 

But soon the “happy times” in Dogville come to an end; the town discovers that she may have been associated with gangsters from whom she is fleeing. The town is offered a bounty for turning her in. Although Grace assures the town that she is no fugitive of the law, the town, including her ally and romantic interest Tom, gradually turn against her--abusing her loyalty, kindness, and physical and emotional dignity. The children humiliate her and betray her trust, the women deprive her of basic human needs, and the men rape her. After they catch her attempting to escape, they clamp a metal collar around her neck and chain her to a anvil (an intentional allusion to the film’s title). 

Grace soon reaches the end of her tether. Tom betrays her and responds to the bounty. As it turns out, it was Grace’s her father and his gang of mob men who issued the request, and soon they arrive in Dogville. We learn that Grace was merely running away from the violent lifestyle her father endorses. Pleased to be reunited with his daughter and guilt ridden for driving her away, he suggests that the town be punished for their cruelty towards his daughter. At first, Grace feels the town should be forgiven because they “are doing the best under very hard circumstances.” Her father criticizes her senseless compassion labeling it as arrogance. But after Grace looks upon the Dogville and acknowledges its true depraved nature, she asks her father to slaughter every person and burn the town to the ground. Grace believes, “If there is any town this country would be better without, it’s [Dogville].” The film closes with Grace and her father’s gang driving away leaving only the town’s dog alive. The credits role over a photo montage depicting America’s poverty, violence, and tyranny. It’s ironically (and snidely) accompanied by David Bowie’s song “Young American.”

I intentionally revealed the ending because it compliments Brecht’s and von Trier’s attempts to establish Verfremdungseffekt--suppressing emotional investment. We are meant to anticipate what will happen because it keeps us at distance so we ca be judgmental. Perhaps Dogville’s Brechtian techniques are a little more obvious and distracting than necessary, but I think that was the goal. A beautifully shrewd--if not callous--narration precipitates a wealth of exposition and clarity into characters’ psyche throughout the film. Each scene is introduced with a slide possessing a title, number, and detailed description of the action about to unfold. We predict the upcoming events which effectively forestalls our commitment to the emotional trajectory. Von Trier’s obtuse style, captured through the crude, handheld camera work, proves to be another cognitive hurdle. Filmed in a largely bare soundstage and made decorated with incomplete set pieces with partial walls lacking ceilings, drawn indications of where structures ought to be, and written labels of landmarks creating only the blueprints of an actual town, we consequently feel as though we are watching an absurdist play. Many of the characters’ activities are performed in pantomime without the use of functioning props: the actors pretend to open doors, garden, and eat among other things. All sounds are manufactured separately from the action. Ergo, we never forget that we are only observing an imitation of reality. 

Verfremdungseffekt is often misunderstood as an “alienation effect.” It is, in fact, not complete emotional distance like the term "alienation" would suggest, but rather a sort of push and pull effect. We are hesitantly brought closer to the characters only to be ripped away at the last minute. Dogville, though praised for its unique approach, was also criticized for it empathetic absence. Yes, the Brechtian style does make it difficult to be in solidarity with the characters and events, but von Trier, with the help of Nicole Kidman’s incredibly controlled presence, does create isolated emotional moments bearing great depth. In one unnerving scene, the three women of the town (Patricia Clarkson, Chloë Sevigny, and Sioban Fallon) confront Grace about her seduction of and fornication with Vera’s husband (Stellan Skarsgärd)--though we know she was repeatedly the victim of rape. Vera decides to teach her a lesson: one by one she smashes Grace’s porcelain figurines until she can hold back her tears. This scene evokes a truly visceral reaction in--not just Grace--but us. Like Grace, we feel that the cruel shattering of the porcelain is as punishing as the disintegration of human flesh. Once the scene is complete, von Trier shows us another areal view of the town’s plot--successfully reestablishing the “performance” aspect. During the finale, as Grace asks her father to kill everyone in the town, she instructs him to shoot Vera’s children in front of her while promising to stop the slaughter if she can hold back her tears. Grace states, “I owe her that.” Though this may sound sadistic, who’s to say we wouldn’t want the same fate for Vera after ages of physical and emotional abuse?

Grace is a completely empathetic figure--the only of all von Trier’s characters as it turns out. Like her name, she is delicate, practices great discipline, and is unwaveringly generosity, yet she--like most cinematic villains and certainly more than any other von Trier females--is profoundly destructive and unforgiving in the end. Can von Trier justify this jarring discrepancy? How is it that Grace encapsulates morality in von Trier’s universe? Well, in typical Brechtian tradition, he is attempting to expose a complicated--if not problematic--criticism of humanity (or maybe just America): true evil--cloaked in innocence and virtue--must be eradicated through greater malicious acts. What, exactly, does this say about the U.S.? Damned if I know.

Dogville’s sequel Manderlay (2005), however, kicks and screams a little louder... which may be why it doesn’t work quite as well. In Manderlay--an equally compelling and WAY more controversial tale--Grace (taken over by Bryce Dallas Howard) and her father’s gang come upon a southern plantation (Manderlay) that still practices slavery even more than sixty years after the Emancipation. Irate and disgusted, Grace--in her persistently altruistic (and arrogant) way--decides to stay at Manderlay, liberate the African Americans, and assist them in establishing a newly structured life. After famine, disorder and conflict, and reincarnations of oppression, we learn that Grace’s efforts actually did a greater disservice for the plantation: the African Americans were happier, safer, and better cared for under the structure of slavery. I’ll let you interpret von Trier’s overarching message. Von Trier has promised us that Grace’s American misadventures are not over; the final installment, Wasington, is in delayed treatment. Since Manderlay, he has created his “Depression” trilogy, beginning with Antichrist (2009), Melancholia (2011) following, and concluding with the two-part pornographic epic                              NYMPH( )MANIAC (with an incredible ensemble cast) set to open this winter. Though Manderlay was not a success, I certainly hope von Trier musters enough anger to ventures back on American soil (figuratively of course... he has never been for fear of flying) for a final Brechtian indictment of the land of the free.

                                                   [The Cast of NYMPH( )MANIAC]

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Top 10 Science Fiction Films

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Metropolis (1927)

Star Wars (1977, 1980, 1983)

Blade Runner: The Final Cut (1982, 2007)

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

Minority Report (2002)

The Matrix (1999)

Alien (1979)

Children of Men (2006)

Solaris (1972, 2002)

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A.I. ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (2001): The Unbearable Absence of Being

Directed by Steven Spielberg

DreamWorks and Warner Bros.

Rated PG-13 for some sexual content and violent images.

         Science fiction is--more often than not--viewed as a creative depiction of a potential future. Effectively, it is extrapolative work of misanthropic possibilities. If we examine some of the superlative samples of science fiction filmmaking--Metropolis (1927), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Blade Runner (1982), and The Matrix (1999)--we can assess that their objective is to warn us of our latent dystopian fate: the pervading threat of artificial intelligence. These films also bring into question what it means to be real. Unfortunately, this is the reason many of the most thought-provoking science fiction works are inherently downers.  Author Ursula K. Le Guin wrote that “anything carried into its largest extreme becomes depressing.” I think that’s why my despondent nature craves these gloomy cautionary tales. Conversely, Le Guin would suggest that science fiction, in its most productive and worthy state, should be “descriptive,” not “predictive.” It requires more imagination than scientific deduction. As an audience, we desire truth--not by way of anticipated predictions--but through abstractions of the “now.” It is the duty of artists to create vessels (symbols, metaphors, lies) for exploring desired truths. Plato would argue that we cannot look directly at the sun; we must linger in the darkness and wait for others (possibly the artists) to gradually introduce these truths.

Stanley Kubrick and Steven Spielberg’s definitive exploration A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)--inspired by Brian Aldiss’ Supertoys Last All Summer Long and strongly paying homage to the science fiction masterwork 2001--surprisingly functions as both a “predictive” and “descriptive” piece of science fiction. A.I., a film brimming with unyielding beauty and darkness, is the thirty-year labor of love conceived by the late Kubrick and brought to life by Spielberg. A.I. marks the beginning of Spielberg’s unofficial “Running Man” trilogy, followed by the dazzling and chilling (but problematically paradoxical) Minority Report (2002) and the boisterous Catch Me If You Can (2002). All three films feature protagonists fleeing incrimination while pursuing closure after the destruction of their respective nuclear families. A.I. is an interpretation of Carlo Colladi’s Pinocchio--though “David” is more a reincarnation of Disney’s gentle, unassuming hero than Colladi’s original malevolent menace. David is a robot child designed to love his imprinted parents (or clients). The pressing dilemma proposed in the film’s introduction is: can the imprinted “parents” love the robot child in return? After his “mother”--or the women whom he is conditioned to love--abandons him, David sets out on a relentless two-thousand-year odyssey to find the Blue Fairy so he may be a real boy like Pinocchio. His super-objective is to fully receive his mother’s love. 

The film is far from perfect: parts are slow and sprawling, many of the performances are far too calculated, the point of view and narrative are inconsistent, and some beats are unintentionally creepy. Critics and audiences probably feel that Minority Report improves upon A.I.’s shortcomings, as it is confidently more thrilling and satisfyingly conclusive. Even though Minority Report is an incredible film with striking imagery and a brilliant string of action, there isn’t much food for thought in its wake. A.I. is challenging to process while watching it and also in the hours, days, years after experiencing it--for its abiding impression is simultaneously hopeful and tragic.   

A.I. is an apex of contemporary design and style. It is visually arresting and musically sumptuous, concurrently unearthing great hostility and uninhibited tenderness. One would justifiably assume that the story’s darker, eerie elements belong to Kubrick, and the lightness is Spielberg’s touch. But Spielberg insists it’s the other way around. Janusz Kaminski’s haunting cinematography and Rick Carter’s expansive production design capture the future’s foreboding atmosphere as well as the spiritual grace which rises above the physical world. Apart from Spielberg’s lovely resurrection of Kubrick’s vision, John William and his luminously modern and classical score, which incidentally remains his most under-appreciated, tap into an infinite universe of raw and complex emotion. Williams incorporates equivocal musical motifs throughout the film’s epic course. One can only identify them after watching the film and listening to the soundtrack multiple times.

Yes, A.I. is clearly a “predictive” work: a "what if?" cautionary tale--similar to 2001 or Blade Runner--warning us of the dangers in creating emotionally capable artificial life. As humans, can we accept the responsibilities and consequences of our escalating creations when they surpass our own control? However, A.I. is really not about the repercussions of artificial intelligence on humanity... but the opposite. The film is a sad, theoretical meditation of mankind’s effects on a conscious artificial being. Like Pinocchio, A.I. raises the question of what it means to be real. Is it enough to say that one’s own consciousness of his or her Self is a testament to the presence of life? After David learns that he is not indeed one-of-a-kind but the first of a series of loving models, he defeatedly articulates, “My brain is falling out,” while staring into the vastness of the drowning Manhattan skyline. Does David’s personal awareness and recognition of his consciousness slipping away validate his humanity? This question epitomizes one of the most taxing concepts--enigmas--of life. This is not an issue of the future; it is an issue of the present moment. This is why, as Le Guin implies, works of art like A.I. are not merely prophecies of the future but imaginative descriptions of our current state of being.

Additionally, David possesses an honest (and all-too real) human flaw: the indefatigable pursuit of things that do not exists. Ultimately, his problem cannot be solved through science... but through an act of magic. Had A.I. ended at its 2 hour mark with David trapped under the sea praying to a submerged statue of the Blue Fairy until the end of time, it would simply be a tragic cautionary odyssey. But the troubling final sequence of events transcends beyond the scientific realm and into what can only be described as "fantasy" or a "fairy tale." Spielberg chooses to conclude David’s journey in a fairly audacious and perplexing way: an advanced form of robots revives David from the ice caps 2000 years into the future--after mankind’s extinction. Since David is the last link between humans and robots, the benevolent robots desire to grant David’s undying wish: to be human. But they cannot fulfill his wish. They can, however, conjure a temporary projection of his mother constructed from his memory: documentation of what he has lived. He is able to spend one final day with her. At the end of his celestial day and before his mother drifts back again into an eternal sleep, she says that she loves him. This is David’s everlasting moment of happiness--essentially his reason for being. If the fulfillment of one's destiny is not enough to define "life," David falls asleep for the first time and presumably dies. Where there is death, there had to be life. This is evidence of David's humanity. Perhaps, supporting Le Guin’s idea, something indescribable and magical--beyond science--envelops this final moment... a kind of deus ex machina. 

Does A.I.’s ending show that David’s journey is triumphant? The simple answer is yes: David does becomes human. But I think the ending is unintentionally more convoluted than we are lead to believe. Although it is never overtly mentioned, his mother’s “resurrection” is not real--much like David himself. It is an illusion: she does not actually exist nor can it be proven that she loves/loved him. The maternal replica projects an artificial love borne from David’s own mental yearnings. For an artificial being, is this artificial love sustainable?  In the thematically similar "cerebral" films, Solaris (1972) and its superior 2002 remake, this difficult notion is also explored. In the film, a psychologist, Chris, travels to a terrorized space station that's experiencing a disturbing phenomenon while it orbits a mysterious planet. Soon after Chris arrives, he realizes that the planet’s aura materializes the physical presence of people from the passengers' dreams and nightmares. His deceased wife visits him night after night, and each time he destroys her by sending her out into space, she reappears. He's conflicted whether to stay orbiting Solaris so he may live in a fantasy with his mind’s projection of his wife, or return to Earth and live without her. Can the heart ever be satisfied with an imitation of what is real--a mere fabrication of something that only exists in one’s mind? This idea is what makes A.I.’s final permeating impression--although disguised in sentiment--so upsetting. After more than ten years, its initial impact is distressingly alive. It may not be the first of its kind, but it is nevertheless an alluring demonstration of the tension between provocative science fiction and fantasy.

[idontrememberthetitans]

The Top 10 "Domestic" Dramas

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

American Beauty (1999)

A Woman under the Influence (1974)

In the Bedroom (2001)

Long Day's Journey Into Night (1962)

Rabbit Hole (2010)

Ordinary People (1980)

Blue Valentine (2010)

Interiors (1978)

A Separation (2011)