It happens every year. That handsomely produced movie, often British, usually a period piece. It’s a perfectly fine film — unchallenging, uncomplicated, more or less forgettable. It has the right stars, the right tone, the right credentials, the right subject matter, and most importantly, the right budget for an awards campaign. (It helps if the Weinsteins are involved.)

Every year, one or two of these titles sneak their way into the Oscar race. Occasionally, they gain such steam that they actually win the big prizes. The most notable example in recent years? The King’s Speech, which won Best Picture shortly before no one ever spoke of it again. Seriously, when was the last time you heard someone mention The King’s Speech in conversation? Does it stick out in your mind as one of the strongest films of the past decade? The King’s Speech defeated Black Swan, Toy Story 3, Inception, and most shamefully, The Social Network, all movies I’ve heard people talk about over the past few years.

The King’s Speech is fine. But it didn’t deserve an Academy Award for Best Picture. It’s just that sometimes, the safest choice is the choice that takes home the big prize.

The Imitation Game has plenty in common with The King’s Speech. It focuses on World War II-era Britain, a well-trodden period of history. It hinges on a central male performance that is inarguably its strongest suit. The Weinsteins are distributing it. And it is one of the frontrunners in the Oscar race as far as nominations go, almost certain to procure a nod for Benedict Cumberbatch, and nearly as certain to earn a slot in the Best Picture race also. The Golden Globes have so anointed it, tying for five nominations with Boyhood (bested only by Birdman‘s seven).The Imitation Game starts off in stride, with an amusing interview between Cumberbatch’s twentysomething maths prodigy Alan Turing and Commander Alastair Dennington (Charles Dance, borrowing some menace from Tywin Lannister as an otherwise underwritten adversary). Turing is what would have been classified then as an “odd fellow,” someone we would say now is “on the spectrum.” He doesn’t pick up on social cues and sees little value in being polite. But his country needs him to solve the riddle that is Germany’s Enigma machine, for (as this film tells it) that is their only hope of winning the Second World War. So the stakes are high. We are reminded often, but we don’t really feel it.

Alan cares obsessively about the machine he’s building to crack German codes, but not so much because he’s concerned about the outcome of the war. His gigantic code-cracking machine, which he names Christopher, is his only true companion in the world — though the mission’s sole female member, Joan (a miscast Keira Knightley), tries to get through to him. In addition to (probably) having Aspergerg’s, Alan Turing is also gay, and it’s hard to say which of these qualities ostracizes him more in the intolerant climate of mid-century Britain. The Imitation Game takes place over the course of three time periods, World War II falling in the middle. The film has a framing device, with a police officer (Rory Kinnear) investigating Turing after a robbery, wondering about his secretive past. It also flashes back to his childhood in an all-boys school, where he developed a crush on his first and only friend, Christopher, who taught him how to break codes (and was likely gay himself). How this would-be romance ends is revealed late in the story, though we can guess from Alan’s resigned solitude that it wasn’t a happily-ever-after.

Strangely enough, these childhood flashbacks may be the strongest and most poignant aspect of The Imitation Game. The World War II stuff holds our interest, as Alan clashes with his superiors and equals (including Matthew Goode, Allen Leech, Matthew Beard, and Mark Strong). These conflicts hit the proper story beats but don’t create palpable drama, with Turing remaining emotionally closed off throughout and the larger stakes of the global battles rarely making an impact.

Perhaps most egregiously, the code-breaking drama isn’t very convincing — are we really supposed to believe that geniuses like Alan and Joan didn’t ever think to look for common phrases in the German messages before Turing has his big climactic breakthrough? Because I thought of it, sitting in the theater, about a half an hour before they did. Either I also could have ended World War II (several months before it actually ended), or the script by Graham Moore takes a bunch of lazy shortcuts with the historical facts and hopes audiences are too dumb to think about it much. (Probably the latter.) Keira Knightley’s Joan is fun in concept. She’s meant to be the spunky, just-one-of-the-boys token female, and in theory it’s fun that the gay and the girl are the key agents of change in this World War II story. But The Imitation Game is obviously more comfortable pushing a feminist agenda than a homosexual one, which makes us wonder why it bothers with the gay stuff at all. Knightley is fine, but she’s too big a star to play the girl genius no one expects anything of — when Keira Knightley walks into a scene, we know we’re meant to pay attention. A lesser-known actress, perhaps more of a tomboy, would be more believable in the role. Knightley, too, is poised to earn an Oscar nod — she got one from the Globes — but that’s a shame, considering that she’s doing nothing new here, and very well may take a slot away from more deserving and vital actresses like Wild‘s Laura Dern or Nightcrawler‘s Rene Russo.

If Cumberbatch does get a nomination, he will deserve it, at least, for he’s the live wire in a film that is otherwise fairly inert. The Imitation Game contains a couple of weak, large-scale special effects shots that are supposed to make the scale feel epic, but they’re poorly rendered and ill-advised, and end up looking cheap. Alexandre Desplat’s score is too lush and cheerful to convey the sense of foreboding that should be felt in a World War II story. (It’s the musical equivalent of a “Keep Calm and Carry On!” poster.) There’s no sense of risk or danger, which follows in the grand tradition of stiff-upper-lip dramas about serious subject matter that aren’t ultimately all that serious. How is it possible to turn such a monumental true story into a trifle? If we’re to believe an impassioned speech by Joan and the title cards at the end of the film, Alan Turing is single-handedly responsible both for winning World War II and for inventing the computer. His reward from the British government? Castration for his “sexual deviance,” which led to his suicide at age 41. The film seems slightly sad about this, when it should be furious. The homophobic angle is tepid and movie-of-the-week-ish. It would’ve felt like a softball back in the 1990s; now, it’s just insulting. This film was made in 2014. Audiences can handle a more daring and provocative film than The Imitation Game, one that is truly outraged at the way Turing was treated by his government, as it should be. There is no passion here, merely a shrug, as if to say, “Pity about that Turing chap, eh? But it ended all right for us!”

Turing’s story is nothing if not tragic, but The Imitation Game instead chooses to focus on more uplifting elements and save the real drama for a few lines of text on screen before the end credits roll. I have no doubt that Alan Turing was a fascinating figure, nor that Cumberbatch plays him as well as this script allows, but I’m also certain that this script misses many opportunities to portray Alan Turing as complex as he really was, to show how his sexuality and other peculiarities frustrated and isolated him, to allow him to be three dimensional rather than just a cog in the machine. Director Morton Tyldum misses the point of most of the drama, focusing instead on the visuals.I don’t mean to be too harsh on The Imitation Game. It’s slick and entertaining enough, with good performances and an engaging story. But I’m not the one poising it for Oscar gold, and by those standards, it isn’t up to snuff. There’s a smarter, more ambitious film lurking somewhere near the edges, but The Imitation Game settles for being a well-produced, “nice” movie, the kind the Oscars throw gold at on occasion. It’s the sort of film that is best when you don’t think about the better version that could have been. There was potential here for something phenomenal; what we got was fine.

The smaller-scale British drama Pride is more successful in highlighting the historical injustices faced by gay people thanks to the British government. It takes place in Margaret Thatcher-era Britain, based around the miner’s strike of the mid-1980s, which happens to be a historically significant period in the lives of gay men as well. The film follows a small band of gay men and women who organize the awkwardly-titled LGSM (Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners) to show solidarity with their fellow Thatcher-opposed brethren, but the sheltered, conservative small-town miners don’t exactly know how to get on with their more flamboyant counterparts, and some of them don’t want the support of a bunch of “perverts.” It sounds like the setup for an ultra-schmaltzy feel-good movie, but Pride doesn’t unfold as obviously as all that — it has stronger characters and more satisfying emotional beats than Milk, and is ultimately a stronger film. Yes, a few characters are staunchly prejudiced and serve as the villains of the piece, but even they are given their fair shake in the script by Stephen Beresford. For the most part, the outlooks and attitudes in the small-town Welsh mining community Onllwyn are diverse and varied, as are those of the LGSM. On the gay side, there’s the charismatic outspoken leader Mark (Ben Schnetzer), the flamboyant and fun Jeff (Freddie Fox), the still-closeted Joe (George MacKay), token lesbian Steph (Faye Marsay), and the disco-dancing Jonathan (Dominic West). There’s also a cameo by Looking‘s Russell Tovey as Mark’s ex. In Onllwyn, we get the inevitable Harry Potter alums of a certain age, like Bill Nighy and Imelda Staunton, plus Paddy Considine as Dai Donovan, who brings the LGSM to town in the first place. Jessica Gunning plays Sian, a housewife who finds her activist calling when the gays come to town.

It could all be very cringe-worthy if handled in broader strokes. The trailer made the film look upbeat and cutesy and very grandmother-appropriate, but the film itself is reasonably gritty. Pride‘s characters are mostly based on real people, which doesn’t always lend itself to characters who think and behave like real people. Here, it does. “The sassy queen,” “the slut,” “the stud” — the usual gay archetypes are almost entirely absent, thank goodness. (Though there is a vegan lesbian couple.) Instead of first introducing us to the miners, and letting them be our proxy, Pride presents fully realized gay characters and follows them into Onllwyn, which is not how these stories typically play out. (Twice over the holiday I saw the trailer for Disney’s MacFarland, USA, another story about a white teacher making an impact in an ethnic community — this time, Kevin Costner and Latinos. Oy.)Pride does get bogged down in a surplus of subplots in its second half, trying to fit in too wide a spectrum of 1980s gay life. Here it strays from the juxtaposition of the working class town versus the big city homosexuals to become a more typical “gay movie,” which is not inherently a bad thing but overly ambitious and unnecessary. It might have been irresponsible t0 set a gay story in this era and not touch on the AIDS epidemic, but it’s out of place in an otherwise focused story. (Then again, given that many of these characters are based on real people, some of whom were HIV positive, it might have been equally egregious to sweep these details under the rug and never mention them.)

That’s a minor complaint in an otherwise stellar movie, one that has the quirky fish-out-of-water British humor of something like The Full Monty while presenting us with a whole host of three-dimensional gay, female, and working class characters of all ages, shapes, and sizes, none of whom are easy cliches. That’s no small feat. Pride has rightly been nominated for the Golden Globes’ Best Musical or Comedy award, a slot that often goes toward a lame studio comedy like The Tourist or a musical dud like Burlesque instead of an underseen gem that could use the attention. (I’m not sure that Pride is really a comedy, but oh well.) It’s hard to single out a single awards-worthy performance in the all-around solid cast — Dominic West playing gay, Bill Nighy as the long-closeted Cliff, or Ben Schnetzer’s admirable activist Mark in the centerpiece role. Pride is probably too small to factor into the Oscar race at all this year, but in a just world, it would replace The Imitation Game as a contender. Faring much better than The Imitation Game is that other handsome British biopic featuring a likely Best Actor contender, The Theory Of Everything. In an overcrowded awards season, The Theory Of Everything has, like The Imitation Game, garnered most of its buzz for its central performance, this time by Eddie Redmayne. Otherwise, it has flown just under the radar in a year with more daring and provocative films like Boyhood, Birdman, Gone Girl, and Selma dominating the critical conversation.

It’s too bad, though, because The Theory Of Everything is worlds better than The Imitation Game, and doesn’t deserve to be dumped into the same boring British biopic box. Eddie Redmayne plays Stephen Hawking throughout the bulk of his life, from his time as a PhD student at Cambridge through the 1980s. The story begins as Stephen meets Jane Wilde. They’re both young and single with limitless possibilities ahead of them. Hawking is already considered a genius, though he’s having trouble narrowing down a focus for his studies. Jane warms up to him easily, falling for his mind and reticent confidence more than any other trait. She’s a religious girl, while Stephen is a man of science. The opposites attract.Shortly after this courtship begins, Hawking collapses and is diagnosed with ALS. He’s given a window of two years to live. Simple tasks like walking and talking first become very difficult, then impossible. Stephen gives Jane an easy out but she refuses to take it, declaring her love and starting a family with Stephen despite the fact that he may not be around much longer. The years go on, and Stephen doesn’t succumb. Both partners find themselves challenged by their relationship. Stephen’s ALS is only one factor — at times, it’s what threatens to drive them apart; other times, it may be the only thing keeping them together.

This should be boring. We’ve seen many stories like this: a tortured prodigy faced with physical obstacles, a wife standing patiently by to help him carry on. Many moments in The Theory Of Everything seem set up for a familiar, predictable beat to land, only to have it… not. The Theory Of Everything rarely dips into the well of Things We’ve Seen Before, and never shows us something just because it happened. Every scene is part of a story — not just a true story, but a truly cinematic one. Not every biopic can claim that. And it’s fun — especially once Stephen starts utilizing the computer-generated voice he’s now known for, which in all its robotic monotone emerges as a real extension of his playful personality.The Theory Of Everything avoids the grand dramatic gestures we think we see coming from miles away. There are no explosive dramatic moments, no forced tensions, no false notes. It’s primarily a story of love between Stephen and Jane; very little of it focuses on anything but that. Their relationship evolves into something different than it started as over time, as all loves do if they last long enough. But that love’s always there, always visible on Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones’ faces. They needn’t say the words. It’s a relief, in a movie like this, to actually buy into the romance. So many similar movies try and force the idea of love upon us, but don’t seem to believe in it themselves. The Theory Of Everything is convinced.

Better still, this is the rare biopic about a male figure that gives equal consideration to his love interest — in many moments, the story belongs to Jane rather than Stephen, and they’re equally wrenching. Jane never becomes either a naggy shrew or a cheerleader, as females tend to in such stories. She’s not just here as a vessel for Stephen to project upon. We palpably feel the pain both of these people are faced with, hers as worthy of the cinematic treatment as his, not shoved aside just because he’s famous. The Theory Of Everything may be about a real-life figure facing the challenges of ALS, but to its credit, it could just as easily be about two characters named Stephen and Jane going through more typical marital turmoil, and we’d be equally invested.The script by Anthony McCarten is remarkably mature, sparing us the hissy fits and histrionics so often utilized to create false drama in a movie like this. The drama lies in the truth of the situation — we don’t need a lot of screaming and crying to feel it. We are constantly amazed by how well Stephen Hawking handles the challenges of his illness in this movie — that allows us to feel his pain more, not less. Director James Marsh’s subtle touch, on display in documentaries like Man On Wire, is equally present here. He lets moments play out as they actually would, not as the rules of an Oscar movie would dictate.

The Theory Of Everything can’t help but feel a little like A Beautiful Mind Jr., because the stories have so many similarities. Late in the film, it also begs comparison to the spectacular The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, which was one of the best films in a year that also gave us No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood, and Zodiac. The Theory Of Everything is not quite as inventive or artful as The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, but it’s a good deal better than Best Picture winner A Beautiful Mind, featuring a more impressive lead performance. Redmayne is superbly convincing in each and every moment, from his first slight struggles through his wheelchair-bound middle age. What he manages to convey with limited dialogue and movement is astounding, yet he also finds room in his performance to be truly funny (just like Hawking). It’s tempting to write off such performances as showy Oscar grabs, but Redmayne wins us over. It must’ve been seriously hard work, but it looks effortless.I initially underestimated The Theory Of Everything, putting off my viewing until long after its release. I thought it was another Beautiful Mind, another King’s Speech. But it’s much better. Redmayne may or may not end up being my favorite leading male performance of the year, but he’s certainly in contention, and he blows Benedict Cumberbatch out of the water. (No offense to Cumberbatch, but he plays a stronger character in a film by a better director, and it’s a more physical performance.) I’d be delighted if Redmayne won an Oscar for the role. (And it would certainly be something if both Redmayne and Julianne Moore won Oscars this year for people suffering from rare illnesses.)

While The Imitation Game has a few figures serving as obvious foils to Turing, The Theory Of Everything more intelligently has no antagonist but time itself. Hawking decides early on that he will devote his life’s work to the study of time, just after he learns that he probably hasn’t got much time left. He studies a span of billions of years while counting down the tiny handful of years his doctor has given him. Time changes Stephen, just as it changes Jane, just as it changes us all, in a way that might seem like cruelty but is merely cosmic indifference. Stephen, at times, seems more like another of Jane’s children instead of her husband, but ALS has merely hastened what time would have done to him eventually — and what it will do to her, and what it will do to all of us. Time makes us old, and feeble, and ultimately nonexistent. We have only a little of it, so we must use it wisely, living and loving as we see fit. This is one Oscar-grab movie that is actually worthy of an Oscar or two, a reminder of why these handsome British dramas started winning awards in the first place.     *

You don’t make a movie about Wall Street in 2011 unless you’re saying something about what’s going down in America. J.C. Chandor did that with the gripping drama Margin Call, taking us inside the offices of a fictional investment bank on the literal eve of the financial collapse that (temporarily?) crippled the United States in this new millennium.

Chandor’s next film, Deepwater Horizon, due later this year, will explore the worst oil spill in U.S. history. It’s obvious that the man has a bone to pick with capitalism, a fact also apparent in his third and, to date, best film, A Most Violent Year.

A Most Violent Year is set in New York City in 1981, but its themes are hardly limited to that era. As most savvy period pieces tend to be, it’s as much a film about right now as it is about the 1980s, though the look and feel of it do inspire a nostalgia for a time (and cinematic era) long past. It brings to mind some of the most iconic and lauded movies of all time, The Godfather and GoodFellas and Scarface, and also The Sopranos, the television show widely regarded as the pinnacle of the medium. It’s a bit premature to hold A Most Violent Year up to those classics now, but at the very least it holds its own in the same conversation. The Godfather was not just a story about gangsters, nor was The Sopranos, nor is A Most Violent Year. These are stories that explore everyday Americana on a cutthroat edge. Maybe these characters are more violent than us — more likely to go to prison, more likely to die a gruesome, early death at the hands of some low-life scoundrel. Then again, maybe not. When you live in a violent place during a violent time, you never can tell.

A Most Violent Year does not actually take place over the course of a year. Its scope is instead set around a single winter month, as Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) makes a deal with some property owners for a piece of land that is crucial to the expansion of his heating oil business. It is, in fact, a bad time to be in Abel’s business, as someone has been hijacking his trucks and stealing the fuel, selling it to his competitors and crushing his bottom line. But Abel refuses to arm his truck drivers, knowing that this will only start a cycle of violence and get people killed on both sides of the fight. It would also seriously harm his reputation and threaten his own freedom and well-being, and that of his family. His employees are scared shitless, his home is invaded in the middle of the night — even his attorney wants him to take a stand against the crooks. Abel won’t have it. He makes tough choices that his associates, employees, and wife may not agree with, always in the interest of preventing violence and preserving the life he has so carefully built for himself.

But it’s a violent world, and it’s a violent year, and sometimes violence is unavoidable. The film’s title refers to the climbing crime rate in New York at this time — New York City was once an exceedingly dangerous place to be, with 1981 being one of its worst moments. Throughout the film, radio reports remind us of crimes occurring all around the city, acts of violence that have nothing to do with Abel Morales or his business but are targeted at innocent, faceless people nearby. Violence is everywhere and could happen to anyone — and chances are, sooner or later it’ll happen to you.

Several acts of aggression are carried out in A Most Violent Year, but they aren’t as frequent or extreme as the title might suggest. This is not GoodFellas or even The Godfather, and it sure as hell isn’t Scarface.(Though, like Tony Montana, Abel hails from a Spanish-speaking nation.) Those gangster movies cited above bathe in bloodshed in a way that A Most Violent Year does not; violence is threatened more often than it is carried out, though that doesn’t mean there isn’t doom in the air throughout. The first murder in A Most Violent Year is actually a mercy killing, directed at an unfortunate animal that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. A Most Violent Year has a lower body count than virtually any other crime thriller you’ve ever seen; Abel is more businessman than gangster, but that’s a line that is easily blurred. Abel Morales is trying to make it in America, and you can’t do that without becoming a target — and doesn’t everyone have a right to self-defense? Every success comes at someone’s expense — sometimes one’s own; more often somebody else’s.

The question in A Most Violent Year is this: who will pay for Abel Morales’ success?

A Most Violent Year is as much about doing business in America as it is about violence, but A Most Profitable Year just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Abel considers himself an honest businessman, but he does have something to hide, or else the D.A. (David Oyelowo) wouldn’t be making a case against him. His lawyer Andrew (Albert Brooks) has fewer scruples than Abel, and his wife and bookkeeper Anna (Jessica Chastain) also seems willing to cut corners. (She’s also daughter and sister to ruthless gangsters herself, spoken of often but never seen.) When a gun, dropped by a no-good prowler, is discovered by one of their daughters in the front yard, Anna pushes Abel to “do something.” She wants him to arm himself, just as his associates want him to give guns his drivers. Because in America, the safest you’ll ever feel is in the presence of a deadly weapon… right?

Like The Godfather, A Most Violent Year is about a man who spent his life striving not to become a gangster, only to find himself backed into a corner by circumstance. When his family is in jeopardy, can he still live up to this moral code? But A Most Violent Year is more like The Sopranos in the ways it gets into the nitty-gritty of Abel’s business dealings with various other head honchos and gangster-types, painting a vivid picture of who wants what and why. A Most Violent Year is populated by well-drawn, believable characters, each with their own agenda, each with their own interests at heart. Abel Morales is no Henry Hill, Tony Soprano, or Don Corleone, but he’s living in a Scarface world. He is an immigrant who made good for himself. He has a business he’s passionate about and a family he loves. He will not let his American dream die a quiet death.

A Most Violent Year is filled to the brim with interesting things to say about capitalism — about who must suffer so that the Abel Moraleses of the world can prosper. It uses violence to make a point, but that’s only an extreme angle on the world we’re all living in. Morals are difficult, perhaps impossible, to hold onto when you want to get ahead. And we all want to get ahead. This concept wasn’t born in the 80s, or even in America, but there may be no better backdrop for such a tale. The Twin Towers are seen from a distance in the background in a few key shots, not so much to remind us of the violence that occurred there in 2001, but as a reminder of what they represented, what that attack sought to affront. Money. Power. Security. Success. Manhattan is always seen from a distance in Chandor’s film, set primarily in Queens. Because Manhattan is something to aspire to, a better place on the horizon. It’s what Abel and Anna, along with everyone else, are chasing. Money. Power. Security. Success.

In the United States of America, every year is a most violent year for somebody. The methods may have changed, but the rules haven’t. We still do business in the exact same way, promising what we can when it benefits us and backing out when it stops. We borrow money we don’t possess, we call in favors wherever we’re able, we let go of anyone who threatens to drag us down. Abel hopes to avoid violence, but his success, in its own way, is an act of violence against those he needs to do the dirty work for him. To get to the top, one must leave the bottom-dwellers behind. In one killer scene, Abel shares his strategy for convincing customers that his business is top-of-the-line. Ask for tea, not coffee. Pie, not cake. Always go for the fancier option. It explains his fancy house, fancy clothes, and fancy wife, too.A Most Violent Year feels like an epic, perhaps because it reminds us of bigger, brassier stories set in this world, or maybe because Abel Morales is a stand-in for every American who ever strove to get ahead. (Basically, all of them.) It’s this year’s Wolf Of Wall Street, but Abel is neither sheep nor wolf — unless he’s forced to choose, and then he’ll pick the latter. Chandor’s direction is superb, emulating films from this era without totally aping them, and his writing manages to get his points across in the most obvious way without ever being obtuse. You’d need to be daft to not pick up on the themes of this movie, but the world he creates is tactile and real. He’s helped greatly by a towering lead performance by Oscar Isaac, who does more with a confident stare than most actors could do with a bombastic monologue, and the phenomenal-as-usual Jessica Chastain, who has a reasonably small but powerful part to play here. (Women are typically sidelined in such films, and while A Most Violent Year is primarily a male-dominated affair, at least Anna gets some juicy business of her own.) Alexander Ebert, who scored Chandor’s All Is Lost, returns here with equal triumph.

As much as it may remind of the great movies of yore, A Most Violent Year is no mere imitation of better films that came before — it’s enough of a novelty to see a crime story about a man who refuses to commit crimes, amongst other unique aspects that are all Chandor’s own. Abel is very, very careful to ensure that everything he does is on the up-and-up, legally speaking; moral crimes, on the other hand, one can’t really be held accountable for. He is a good man living in a shady world, convinced that he’s the exception to the rule; it’s the system that’s screwed, not him. (And who hasn’t told that convenient little lie to themselves?) He navigates through the moral murk and deceit, making compromises we’re all familiar with.

We’d all like to live in the idealized America — land of plenty, free of violence. Abel tries really hard to, but the people around him know that he isn’t, and Abel will learn that over the course of this story. His previous films were solid, but with A Most Violent Year, J.C. Chandor announces himself as a writer and filmmaker to be reckoned with. The man obviously knows his Coppola and Scorsese, but he also knows a little something about modern day America, too. A Most Violent Year has more to say in one scene than most films do in their entire running time. It’s a most excellent movie. *

It’s been nearly a year since Patrick, Dom, and Augustin signed off on us, and now they’re back, taking a relaxing weekend getaway to the woods.

But watch out, boys! These woods are full of bears!

And no, I do not mean the traditional Goldilocks, Berenstein, Winnie-the-Pooh variety. Overweight hairy gay men are on the prowl — beware!

Yes, Patrick, Dom, and Augustin have ventured out into the forest, but no — they’re hardly roughing it, since they’re staying at Lynn’s cushy cabin (sans Lynn). Dom and Lynn are officially an item now, Patrick is still mooning over the loss of Richie, and Augustin is still an insufferable asshat. Patrick and Dom call Augustin out on being an insufferable asshat, at least. But still. Patrick wants this to be a sober weekend of male bonding, even though he’s secretly chatting with his lover-boss Kevin when he thinks no one’s watching. Dom and Augustin grumble a bit but go along with Patrick’s itinerary of cherry-eating, redwood-gawking, and Monopoly-playing; that is, until Doris shows up, feeling frisky.

(Yes, rest assured: Doris remains the highlight of this series.)It turns out that the boys’ retreat is not so remote or isolated. There’s a whole bevy of gays in the forest looking to party, essentially turning an ancient forest of sequoia trees into a rave scenario as only gays can do. The foursome decides to do molly, which has Patrick sucking face with a Richie lookalike (a neat little fakeout moment that makes us think it really is Richie, the one truly great moment in this episode) while Dom has his first infidelity in his open relationship with Lynn. Augustin (slightly) surprises us by running off with Damian from Mean Girls, who remains too gay to function. He’s a big ol’ hairy bear now and goes by the name Eddie, and he is also in possession of a House In Virginia (Augustin’s code for HIV). This could be an intriguing development for Augustin… or just something else for him to whine about. We’ll see.

As per usual, what little “plot” there ever is on Looking only inches forward here. I’m not sure how long has passed since last season (it would be rather odd if it were actually a year, considering that these characters are acting like it’s been a matter of weeks), but Richie is physically out of the picture while still present in spirit while Patrick has sex in the woods with Kevin, apparently embracing the naughty side he fought against (somewhat) last season. This vacation episode is a little like Girls‘ “Beach House” episode from last season, minus all the drama (naturally — Looking doesn’t do drama).Patrick wanted this weekend to be about the three of them, and I was on board for that. As it turns out, this mantra is hypocritical, since he invites Kevin out for a secret fuck in the woods while Dom and Augustin have also run off with strangers. It’s an apt metaphor for the show, which is almost never about these guys’ relationships with each other. I still find Patrick, Dom, and Augustin a weird and unlikely trio, and the little shading of history we’ve got from them in past episodes has not cemented the bond. I don’t see any reason why they’d actually enjoy each other’s company — especially since all Augustin can do in this episode is complain about how he’d rather be off getting drunk and laid. (And, ironically, is the only one who does not get laid in this episode.) What happens here is just fine, I suppose, but might this premiere have been better if it really had stuck these three guys alone together in a cabin for the weekend, and seen what developed? Surely something more interesting than Patrick taking Atlantic Avenue would have transpired. (Then again, this is Looking, the anti-drama.)

“Looking For The Promised” proves, at least, that it is self-aware, by making its characters self-aware. Patrick feels guilty enough about his trysts with Kevin to not tell Dom and Augustin (until he does, in the end). Augustin says that he deals with feeling like a shitty person with bad behavior. Whereas Patrick has optimistic ideas about this trip in the beginning, by the end he only wants to watch the sunrise and “pretend that everything’s going to be fine.” Perhaps this setting is intentional — are Patrick, Dom, and Augustin in the deep, dark, metaphorical woods, so that they may emerge later? They head into the woods to be together, isolated from the San Francisco scene, and end up separated with the same problems they face in the city. Patrick literally beckons his problems out to their retreat while Dom has pictures of his man-friend everywhere during his first sexual rendezvous and Augustin is spilling his woes to a stray bear.But here’s the real news. In Season Two, Looking has only gotten hairier. Augustin’s beard is fuller and we’ve now added a bear to the mix. By season’s end, I fully expect the entire cast to look like Cousin Itt doppelgangers (which most of the extras already do anyway). “Looking For The Promised Land” is a perfectly acceptable season premiere, one that continues the show’s sometimes frustrating lack of narrative momentum but relocates it to a forest populated by bearded drag queens. I don’t dispute that this is a reasonably accurate look at a particular segment of San Francisco’s gay scene, but I still wonder why it’s on television. That is not to say that it shouldn’t be on television, but Looking has yet to wholly justify its existence to me, and maybe it shouldn’t have to, and it probably doesn’t want to, but how am I supposed to feel about any of this?

Patrick is hooking up with his boss, who is in a committed relationship. Dom is in some version of a sugar daddy open relationship. Augustin is an insufferable asshat. Sure, these are all things that people do. But I’m not sure that merely watching Patrick, Dom, and Augustin blindly navigate their ways through problematic relationship is much more entertaining than watching real people do it. If these were my friends… well, they probably wouldn’t be, for much longer.So I’m conflicted. I’ve had a whole year to get used to the idea that Looking is not the gay series many of us expected it would be. It is shaggy, meandering, and oddly depressing, given that we are seldom given anything of substance to invest in. Girls is like that, too, in ways, but with more humor and originality.

My jury is still in deliberation on Looking, which improved throughout its first season and has begun its second season troubling me all over again. Creator Michael Lannan had all this time to respond to critical and fan reaction to the series, and his answer was: this. Maybe we should admire him for sticking to his guns. Maybe Looking is the medicine we should take while craving a spoonful of sugar instead. Maybe this is going somewhere good. Maybe Damian from Mean Girls and Doris should run away together and do a spin-off called Too Doris To Function.

I’ll give Looking a few more episodes to play its hand, but for now?

Looking, you still haven’t found me.*

Some films are great.

Some films are Important.

Some are both, some are neither. Many are one, attempting to be the other.

This time of year always unleashes at least one major release about a historical event we’re all familiar with, usually a true story, often centered around a major war or some other national or global watershed moment. Is it something about the onset of winter that makes us want to watch such stories?

No. It’s the Oscars.

These films are poised for Academy Award nominations, so they’re almost always released in the fall, often around Christmas Day. If they don’t win Best Picture, they’re at least trying to. They can be biopics or war films, literary adaptations or historical dramas. Maybe two or three or all of these. They smack of prestige. Often, they’re not quite as good as the marketing would have us believe. But sometimes they are.

As a war film/biopic/historical drama/bestselling literary adaptation, Unbroken was touted early on as the Film To Beat in the Oscar race of 2014, but that kind of early buzz can work against a prestige drama, as may be the case here. Based on a hit book that tells an incredible true story, co-written by the Coen brothers, and directed by Angelina Jolie, of all people, it is the tale of Louis Zamperini, an Olympic athlete who overcame some seriously harrowing obstacles during World War II. Louie is the child of Italian-American immigrants, a young troublemaker who is bullied for his outsider status and channels that angry energy into running track, which eventually takes him to the 1936 Olympic games in Berlin, where he is treated to an impassioned speech by Adolf Hitler. Louie doesn’t know it yet, but this man has set into motion events that will cause him serious harm and endanger his life numerous times, in numerous way, threatening to break him all the while.But — spoiler alert — they don’t.

Unbroken has the sheen of a typical awardsy prestige drama. Jolie’s direction is assured enough, in that this falls right in line with other handsomely produced wartime dramas that favor lush visuals over grit and bloodshed. Louie Zamperini faced unimaginable horrors, including 47 days with scarce food and water in a life raft with two fellow soldiers and a school of hungry sharks circling around them. And that might have been the most pleasant part of his story. He also had a stint in a POW camp where a particularly surly Japanese officer had it out for him. The actual experience of these events is obviously, inevitably more hellacious than any movie about them could depict, and Unbroken doesn’t even get close to putting us in that unspeakable situation. But did anyone expect an adaptation from the author of Seabiscuit directed by Malificent to “go there”? I didn’t.

So Unbroken is more War Horse than Saving Private Ryan, but that’s not inherently problematic. For what it is, Unbroken is an engaging drama, far from the best of the year but by no means the worst. It tells its story straightforwardly, without moral complications or a whole lot of character depth, but it is a hell of a story. We are meant to see Louie Zamperini as an American hero, a stalwart guy with a will made of iron. He never falters, and we never expect him to. Stories like this are comfort food — they go down easy and fill our bellies with warmth, like a big heaping helping of all-American apple pie. Jolie is no Kathryn Bigelow, but she knows how to make a movie.Unbroken is most notable for its lead performance by Jack O’Connell, a rising star if there ever was one. (In case you haven’t heard, he’s the new Tom Hardy.) Thanks to O’Connell, this Zamperini is exceedingly good-looking, but so is everyone else in the movie. As Unbroken tells it, World War II was fought and won exclusively by supermodels, and perhaps someone needed to tell its director: “Hey, Angie — hate to break it to you, but not everyone is beautiful.” The supporting cast features Jai Courtney, Garrett Hedlund, Finn Witrock, Domnhall Gleeson, and assorted other lesser-known gorgeous people, which occasionally make Unbroken feel more like Magic Mike Goes To The Pacific. Even the villain of the piece is played by Miyavi, an attractive Japanese musician making his English-language film debut.

Unbroken has its share of effective moments and a few that fall flat. The structure of the film starts us off in a tense action sequence during World War II and then winds back to depict some not-so-intriguing childhood flashbacks I suspect are there primarily because they’re in the book. (Some of the dialogue in this sequence is pretty painful.) The later obstacles are suitably grueling, if not exactly gritty, and maybe none of it would work if Jack O’Connell weren’t so engaging. He was scrappier in this year’s lesser-seen feisty indie Starred Up, but here he proves himself a worthy leading man in mainstream fare, too.

Unbroken may slip into the Oscar race as a crowd-pleaser, as these films often tend to, with a Best Picture nomination, though tepid critical reaction could just as easily hurt its chances. Jack O’Connell would have a fighting shot at a Best Actor nod in a year that wasn’t already so overstuffed with kudos-ready leading men, but he’ll have to wait his turn while Eddie Redmayne and Benedict Cumberbatch get their due. As for Jolie, the slot that once might have been hers now seems more likely to go to another director of a historical biopic, Ava DuVernay.It’s almost shocking that it took until 2014 for moviegoers to get a movie about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Though it also took us until 2012 to get one about Abraham Lincoln.) There are few American legends so towering, so influential, and so worthy of seeing of seeing on the big screen as King. (The man has his own holiday!) Selma is focused exclusively on 1965, the most tumultuous and significant year of the Civil Rights movement, when King was already a powerful and beloved minister and activist, at a point where he could choose to push forward, at the risk of getting his friends and other innocent people killed, or step back, letting the nation’s white leaders, primarily President Lyndon B. Johnson, deal with the Negro Problem when they got around to it.

For Dr. King, of course, that wasn’t much of a decision to make. While many white men in power fundamentally agreed with King’s principles, actually enforcing them was too politically dicey. Black men and women technically already had the right to vote in 1965, but white bureaucracy in the South often unjustly prevented them from doing so, leaving African-Americans without representation in the police force, juries, and government. Selma highlights all of these issues quickly and effectively, though it uses a little more talk than action in so doing.

King is played by David Oyelowo as effectively as you can imagine anybody doing so, and it’s just one turn in a wholly effective African-American ensemble that also features Oprah Winfrey, Common, Short Term 12‘s excellent Keith Stanfield, and Orange Is The New Black‘s villain Lorraine Toussaint. Selma was directed by a black woman, and comes most alive in scenes between its black actors. The issues at hand are not so simple as black and white — there are a wide array of opinions and ideas amidst King’s followers, and all are given a fair shake. Not everyone who wants to see African-Americans treated equally agrees with King’s methodology — some wish him to be more extreme, some less. Perhaps it shouldn’t feel so fresh and exciting for a major awards release to feature black characters talking to each other about political strategies, but it does, and that builds a lot of goodwill toward Selma.

Fittingly, most of Selma takes place in Selma. Where the film falters a bit is when it steps outside that city to take us into the White House, in King’s meetings with Johnson (played reasonably well by Tom Wilkinson), and into other rooms with other white men in power, like a judge played by Martin Sheen and Tim Roth’s Governor of Alabama, George Wallace. Particularly awkward is a hammy cameo by Dylan Baker as J. Edgar Hoover, who seems like he should be twirling a mustache. The dynamic between King and Johnson is intriguing enough for maybe one scene of this movie, but otherwise, we needn’t see a bunch of moments telling us what all these white guys are thinking and doing throughout all this, because we already know. None of these characters are particularly well fleshed-out; they are talking heads, and they undermine the down-to-earth authenticity Selma builds in Alabama. Most of what transpires in the city of Selma feels real; a lot of what happens outside it feels phony. What matters in Selma is what happens in Selma, but we spend a fairly large portion of the movie in Washington, D.C. and Montgomery, away from King and his followers.

With Oprah Winfrey as producer and Brad Pitt, winner of last year’s Best Picture Oscar for the dynamo 12 Years A Slave, (another significant film about African-American issues, naturally), executive producing, I’m not sure if the makers of Selma felt it was necessary to have a lot of white guys in the movie to lend some star power, or give Caucasian audiences a proxy, or if they really did think this was the best use of Selma‘s screen time. (At least there is no awkward Pitt cameo this time.) DuVernay’s direction is mostly effective and occasionally impressive, though a few of her choices feel too obvious. Virtually every scene that takes place in the White House unfolds in the Oval Office, which feels stagey and claustrophobic. I also had some trouble with the film’s final moments, featuring the marchers singing muted underneath an uplifting song by English singer Fink from 2011, which then leads into an on-the-nose (Golden Globe-winning) rap from Common and some rather self-congratulatory closing credits. It’s an aggressively bogus way to end an otherwise lovely film.

Selma may leave us on a false note, but I won’t do the same in my review, because there’s too much here worth celebrating. DuVernay lands the film’s most crucial moments, especially the shocking brutality King’s peaceful protestors faced at the hands of the Alabama police, who are mostly faceless in their attacks, rendering them as scary as any vampire or zombie. There are also several compelling dramatic scenes, including an interaction between Martin and wife Coretta (Carmen Ejogo) that addresses his infidelity, and the film’s best scene, in which an octogenarian grieves for the grandson (Stanfield) who was just senselessly shot by police. Henry G. Sanders has only a few scenes in this film, but this one is so immensely powerful — I wish there was Oscar talk for him, since it’s one of the year’s most effective supporting turns.

In these and a handful of other moments, DuVernay makes the struggles of the people of Selma immediate and heart-wrenching, forcing us to feel, as King and his followers did, that change needed come to imminently and at any price. I wish the wonky political scenes had as much grit and gravitas, and that DuVernay was able to sell the entire movie the way she so effectively lands the scenes of panic and violence. But I’d much rather see a version of Selma that gets the violence and bloodshed right and falters a bit in the talking head scenes than one that nails the white politicians and rings false note after false note in depicting the people of Selma.

There could have been even more Selma in Selma, and a lot less Oval Office — a fuller view of these people’s lives and the struggles they were up against. But I’m mostly content with the Selma we got. It is poised to snag a Best Picture nomination, is likely to earn a nod for Oyelowo, and may make history if DuVernay becomes the first black female to find herself in the Best Director race. It seems perfectly fitting that a film about a black man who made history could do so for a black woman as well.

*

It was a very good year at the movies… but a weird one. Reversing the trend of recent years, the summer blockbuster fare offered a surprising amount of good taste, from the goofy-fun Guardians Of The Galaxy to the surprisingly clever Edge Of Tomorrow. Even sequels like Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes and unnecessary reboots like Godzilla offered something in the way of quality.

I saw many films I liked over the course of the year, and not too many that I didn’t. 2014 was not a year of masterpieces, save one or two, but a year when more movies than average were better than you’d think.

That’s good news and all, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at the Academy Award nominations announced this morning. Only one of my own Top Ten films is found in the eight-movie Best Picture lineup (you probably already know which). Two more are included if you expand out to my Top 20. The lack of diversity among the nominees is disheartening, but it’s endemic more of a lack of diversity in high-profile releases; the showing for people of color in awards season shouldn’t rely entirely on Selma‘s shoulders, but that’s how it went down this year. In general, the Academy went for the dullest, blandest available options — old vets like Meryl Streep and Robert Duvall got nods for roles no one would consider amongst their best work, the Weinstein-backed Imitation Game nabbed a predictable but depressing eight nominations despite its flagrant mediocrity in nearly all categories, and if the Best Director race were a food, it would best be likened to a bowl of plain, room temperature oatmeal. American Sniper made a surprisingly strong showing with six nods, presumably because it has the word “American” in the title.

This was a year in which a black woman could have made history as the first nominee of her gender and race to make it into the Best Director category. (Ava DuVernay must be kicking herself for not titling her film American Selma.) I am a fan of one or two of the films in just about every category, and the most likely winners are, for the most part, the most deserving, so it could be worse.

But it could be better. Since the Oscars have largely failed me this year, I am especially proud to announce my own ten favorite films of 2014.

10. MAPS TO THE STARS

It seems appropriate to start off with a tour of Hollywood. Sit back and relax, folks, as we cruise past the homes of Tinseltown’s elite and mighty. Witness them in their natural habitat, fucking and killing each other. Watch the cub as he learns to hunt, mimicking the moves of an older, more dominant male. See the parents protect their young fiercely, savagely, showing no mercy. Observe as the wounded female takes a deadly swipe at an even more wounded female — but oh! Oh! Look how the weaker one fights back!

Now, look away, folks! It’s about to get bloody!

David Cronenberg’s Maps To The Stars is one crazy movie, veering wildly in tone from satirical comedy to moody drama to violent shocker. It is, in many moments, truly funny, but in most movies that are this amusing, most of the cast doesn’t end up dead by the end credits. The macabre elements won’t shock anyone familiar with Cronenberg’s previous works, including A History Of Violence and Eastern Promises, though this is more tongue-in-cheek than many of his efforts. The morals in this movie universe are severely fucked, as they are in Hollywood. Maps To The Stars is a vehemently nasty piece of work.

But it’s also a sharp satire of overprivileged brats, both the teen and adult variety. One of its main characters is the child star Benjie, who is feeling insecure about his age even before he’s legally able to drive. He’s no longer the ingenue, so he cops a Justin Bieber-like attitude as his behavior goes unchecked, escalating until he makes some truly fatal mistakes. Faring no better is Havana Segrand, a middle-aged Lindsay Lohan, as petulant and childish as any teenager. Like Benjie, she’s concerned that she’s past her expiration date in Hollywood. Both Benjie and Havana hallucinate dead acquaintances; meanwhile, there’s a mysterious girl covered in scars who has just stepped off a bus in Hollywood…

Maps To The Stars is a willfully weird cinematic experience. Some will find its shifting tones jarring. Others will find them delightful. Obviously, I’m in the latter camp, and while Julianne Moore deservingly sweeps up awards for her stellar work in Still Alice, it comes as no surprise to me that she can do drama brilliantly. Maps To The Stars, on the other hand, shows that she’s an equally gifted comedienne. Her performance would be the most brilliant satire of Hollywood narcissism in any year that didn’t see the resurgence of Valerie Cherish on HBO’s The Comeback. It’s enough to make those tourist lookie-loos swear that they’ll never come back to Hollywood…

9. COHERENCE

It was a good year for science fiction on the big screen, both in big budget blockbuster form (Edge Of Tomorrow, Guardians Of The Galaxy, Interstellar) and a handful of inventive indies that swapped special effects for intellectual curiosity. The One I Love had Elisabeth Moss and Mark Duplass playing a couple whose counseling takes a freaky turn, which was plenty of fun. But for my money, I preferred an even smaller doppelganger story made on a really tiny budget.

A prime example of how an imaginative filmmaker can do a lot with a little, James Ward Byrkit’s Coherence is a nifty sci-fi thriller that manages to be smart, spooky, and suspenseful all while taking place almost entirely in a single dining room. A comet is passing overhead while four Angelino couples have gathered for a dinner party, guzzling wine and reveling in each other’s dramas when suddenly iPhones start smashing of their own accord and the lights go out. There’s no internet, no cell service — and suddenly these eight friends are left to fend for themselves when something seriously trippy begins happening.

Yes, it’s a classic Twilight Zone-style setup, and anyone expecting jump scares or CGI monsters will go home utterly empty-handed. Coherence is a thinking person’s thriller, one where quantum physics is the villain. (When was the last time you saw a movie like that?) The script was entirely improvised, with the actors knowing almost nothing about what they were facing, which must be why their reactions feel so genuine. The only recognizable star is Buffy The Vampire Slayer‘s Nicholas Brendon, playing a washed up TV star with a drinking problem — not so far from the truth — and the rest of the cast feels similarly lived-in and down-to-earth, like eight people you really would meet at a Los Angeles dinner party. (Inevitably, at least one would be a washed up TV star with a drinking problem.)

Coherence won’t change the face of science fiction at the movies, and it’s best watched with no expectations and as little prior knowledge as possible. (I had literally no idea what genre it even was when I saw it.) But it represents the very best of do-it-yourself, ultra-low-budget, single-location filmmaking without feeling even slightly claustrophobic, except in the way it’s intended to. It’s the kind of movie a studio would never make, and the kind of movie creatives like Byrkit can and will make anyway, even without an assist from Hollywood.  8. FRANK

Lots of movies are made about artists, mainly because movies are made by artists. There are few subjects more often explored than the tortures of being creative, which is how we got films like Big Eyes, Birdman, Chef, Mr. Turner, Listen Up Philip, and We Are The Best in 2014, to name a few.

What is not always the case is that many films raised questions about whether or not the creative geniuses in question were really so masterful at all. Whiplash tells the story of a young musician sacrificing everything for a tyrant maestro who demands perfection in the most flawed of ways, and it was very good. But Lenny Abrahamson’s Frank goes deeper and darker in exploring the link between genius and madness, ultimately making a stronger (if more ambiguous) point.

Our protagonist is not the titular Frank but Jon, a young man who wants desperately to express himself musically but displays no discernible talent. Even his tweets are banal and cliche. Jon is asked to join a quirky, obscure band called the Soronprfbs that plays pretentious, unmelodic music. The Soronprfbs are perfectly content being as offbeat as their unpronounceable moniker, but Jon’s desperate need to be liked and adored eventually worms its way into the frontman’s papier-mâché head, too.

Frank uses comedic extremes to explore complex ideas about the chasm between authenticity and popularity, about the traits we worship in a musical artist and disdain in anyone else, about how empty and fleeting social media stardom can be. Most of the music in Frank is hilariously awful, from the unlistenable noise of Frank’s early work to an attempt at mainstream pop that he dubs “Frank’s Most Likable Song Ever” (though there is something bizarrely beautiful about his final number, “I Love You All”).

Frank eventually reveals himself not as a complicated genius, but as a child-like savant, forcing us to question the reverence these characters have had for him all along. Ultimately, the character Frank’s creativity is purer and less adulterated than any calculated attempt at mainstream success could be, and that is true of Frank the film as well. The absurdity of many early scenes gradually gives way to something profound and unexpected. Surfaces can be deceiving; leave it to a man with a papier-mâché head to teach such a lesson.

7. THE SKELETON TWINS

Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader starring in a movie together? That’s a no-brainer. Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader starring in a movie that’s all about sexual abuse, infidelity, and suicide? Not so likely. The Skeleton Twins is a fresh, smartly-scripted indie dramedy that isn’t afraid to go dark, showing us the most interesting work we’ve seen from Hader or Wiig this side of Saturday Night Live. Their sketch comedy camaraderie translates easily into sibling chemistry as they play Milo and Maggie, twins who make suicidal overtures on the same day, brought back into each other’s lives after a ten-year silence. The reason for the brother-sister breakup is revealed along the way, and it’s a doozy.

The Skeleton Twins has enough comedy to satisfy Bridesmaids fans and enough drama to let us truly empathize with these characters. Come for the laughter, stay for the tears. Suicide is often a gimmick in indies, but in this one, it’s a real threat. We believe that one or both of these characters won’t live to see the end of the movie (and maybe they don’t). Milo and Maggie’s lip sync to Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” may be the comedic highlight of 2014; sequences involving laughing gas and dressing up for Halloween are equally hysterical. In these scenes, The Skeleton Twins might as well be a broad Bridesmaids-style studio comedy about a married woman and her sassy gay brother.

But in the end, The Skeleton Twins eschews feel-good sentiment for spiky drama, like Maggie’s not-so-nice treatment of her devoted hubby (Luke Wilson), her acidic attitude toward her mother, and a jaw-droppingly harsh line she delivers to Milo in their climactic argument. Bill Hader officially joins the ranks of Saturday Night Live alums who can carry a drama — Kristen Wiig’s already there, but she’s never been better. It was too much to ask of the Academy to recognize either of them this year, but would it have been such a crime to nominate it for Original Screenplay? No other film had The Skeleton Twins‘ blend of sharp dialogue, strong characterization, and bold storytelling. The film charts a course toward a bittersweet ending, making for the shrewdest mix of comedy and pathos in 2014. 6. ENEMY

What the fuck?

Those three little words are on everybody’s mind as Denis Villeneuve’s psychological thriller comes to an abrupt conclusion, and it’s not like things were super normal before that startling final image. This was a big year for doppelgangers, from The One I Love and Coherence (mentioned above) to Enemy‘s darkly comedic cousin, The Double, which starred Jesse Eisenberg as an office drone who encounters a savvier, suaver version of himself, illuminating all his flaws in comparison. I quite enjoyed The Double, but my biggest kick in the Year of Doppelgangers was derived from Enemy, in which Jake Gyllenhaal plays a history professor who sees an extra in a movie who looks exactly like him. The more he tries to unravel this mystery, the more mysterious the mystery gets… (And watch out for spiders!)

What do I love about Enemy? Just about everything. Gyllenhaal gives not one but two diverse, dynamic performances, and Sarah Gadon is equally compelling as Jake #2’s pregnant wife. The score by Daniel Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans is creepy and mesmerizing, one of the best this year. Enemy forces us to focus on obscure items, like blueberries and keys and spiders, and wonder what the hell they mean.

Beyond that ballsy ending, what I admire most about Villeneuve’s film is that it does no hand-holding. Want to understand what’s happening in Enemy? Well, you’re on your own. See it two times, maybe three. Read up on theories on the internet. Discuss, discuss, discuss. Under The Skin, starring Scarlett Johansson, was an equally elusive sci-fi story of 2014, receiving a lot more critical praise than Enemy. Though I admired its subtext, the film as a whole didn’t work as well for me as Enemy did.

Enemy isn’t just a movie, it’s a full-on brain teaser designed to give you hours of fun. (Or torture, depending on your perspective.) It’s not for everyone and was never meant to be, but for those of us who find most movie puzzles too easily solvable, Enemy is unpredictable, providing a jolting shock to the senses dulled by too much mindless pap. If I had to pick a cinematic moment from 2014 that floored me like no other, it would be the end of Enemy.

Because seriously… what the fuck?

5. NIGHTCRAWLER

As much as I loved Enemy, I must admit that it contains only the second (and third) best Jake Gyllenhaal performance of 2014. The top slot goes to Nightcrawler, in many ways a spiritual sequel to my favorite film of 2013, The Wolf Of Wall Street. (Though Gyllenhaal’s Lou Bloom makes Jordan Belfort look like Mother Theresa.) It’s a shame the Academy didn’t agree, as Gyllenhaal’s slimy intensity is enough to make your skin crawl. It’s not often that the protagonist of a movie is also one of the year’s ickiest screen villains. (And in a just world, Rene Russo would be nominated, too — did Meryl Streep really need that 19th nomination?)

On the one hand, Nightcrawler is all about the news media, as cutthroat and savage as it was shown to be back in the 1970s, in Network, and the 1990s, in To Die For. In that respect, Nightcrawler adds nothing new (though still has plenty of fun rolling around in such tropes). What’s fresh in Dan Gilroy’s impressive first feature is the Lou Bloom character, quite likely a sociopath, spouting off self-help tripe he’s memorized off the internet in order to sound more “human.” Lou Bloom has no empathy for his fellow man. He takes full advantage of his underpaid assistant, he treats women like objects and sex like a negotiation, and he will break any and every law in order to beat his competition. In other words, he’s exactly like most CEOs of major corporations.

Lou Bloom doesn’t revel in excess the way Jordan Belfort and his cronies did in The Wolf Of Wall Street. He has no real interest in money, except as it relates to success. As a “nightcrawler” who speeds throughout Los Angeles chasing car accidents and crime scenes, hoping to shoot the most extreme footage for the morning news, Bloom has twisted the American dream into a nightmare, and his line of work — chosen at random — means that the more gruesomely terrible things happen to people he doesn’t know, the happier he is with his work. (And the more money he makes.)

Lou Bloom is willing to exploit anyone and everyone so that he comes out on top, and many people are willing to be exploited by him because they’ll also get ahead in more incremental ways. If that makes you uncomfortable — well, good! It should. But that’s living in America in 2014…
4. A MOST VIOLENT YEAR

…Which isn’t all that different from living in America in 1981, as it turns out. Crime stories have often been used to explore broader American themes. Tony Soprano was a gangster, but also a family man who felt pressured by the enormous demands of his work. Michael Corleone was just a guy who wanted to carve out his own identity rather than fall back on the family business, which just so happened to involve the occasional murder. Most Americans will never kill a fellow human, but it’s not so hard to relate to characters who do, which must mean something. A Most Violent Year gets at what that “something” is.

The protagonist of J.C. Chandor’s drama, played by Oscar Isaac, is not a gangster. And he’s trying really hard not to be. His wife Anna comes from a violent family; many of associates are as crooked as they come; he’s being pressured from all sides to retaliate because his business is being robbed. We expect Abel to react violently, because that’s what we’re trained to want in such movies. Vengeance. Abel fights against these instincts, and his own, holding out on violence even as violence encroaches closer and closer on him. The movie does the same — it’s one of the least bloody crime epics you’ll ever see, which is not to say that there isn’t some violence. What there is more of, however, is talk of violence. Particularly gripping are Abel and Anna’s arguments about whether they’re safer or at more risk with some artillery in their house. Abel isn’t a fan of guns; Anna doesn’t agree with him. There may be no more divisive issue in America at the moment; A Most Violent Year touches on it fleetingly but directly, in perhaps as blatant a way as an American film can get away with. One of the big questions hanging over Chandor’s movie is: will Abel embrace his Second Amendment right to bear arms? And: should he?

A Most Violent Year isn’t just a tease; it’s proof that taking the straight and narrow path is often the hardest available route. Abel can choose to be good at his business or good as a person, but likely not both. He is the polar opposite of Lou Bloom in Nightcrawler, a man tortured by the limited options available to him; but like Lou Bloom, he is willing to do what he must in order to get ahead in America. Lou’s year turns out to be a lot more violent than Abel’s, but both stories arrive at a similar conclusion — the worker bees, often minorities, will suffer countless injustices, while the fat cats living large at the top of the heap turn a blind eye to their suffering.

There are no real villains in A Most Violent Year. These are just everyday people doing what they can to get ahead — which is sometimes immoral, sometimes illegal. Lou Bloom would probably admire Abel Morales; Abel would abhor Lou Bloom. Whether by choice or happenstance, they’re a couple of the biggest scoundrels of 2014; they might be the most despicable Americans on screen in 2014, except that this year also gave us…

3. GONE GIRL

…”Amazing” Amy! Who, throughout the course of Gone Girl, does prove herself to be truly fucking exceptional.

Abel and Anna’s marriage in A Most Violent Year is a little fucked up. Nick and Amy’s marriage in Gone Girl is a lot fucked up. That’s already kind of a spoiler, so if you have seriously somehow made it all the way to January 2015 without learning what the big twist in Gone Girl is, skip ahead to #2 — or, better yet, read on and get it over with, and welcome back to pop culture relevance.

The problem in Nick and Amy’s marriage is the same problem as in a lot of marriages: she’s faking it. The difference is that “it” is not merely an orgasm, but her own abduction and murder. And as is true in both cases, she blames it on her husband.

Like the novel by Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl is a playful thriller. It’s as much a black comedy as it is a mystery, to the extent that even an exceedingly gruesome murder is so over-the-top it’s almost funny. David Fincher is one of our most reliable filmmakers — I’m never disappointed by his output. He has the rare knack for elevating genre movies far above and beyond their genre, and in this case, injecting more meaning and nuance into a pulpy bestseller than was there to begin with.

Gone Girl prompted more critical discourse than any other film of 2014, and for good reason. It’s a sharp satire of the way our easily manipulated media seizes onto domestic tragedies, and ultimate pointlessness of the truth. Nick and Amy’s marriage is farce on a number of levels, but aren’t so many marriages equally artificial? Nick and Amy each have a role to play in the theater of matrimony; their marriage is “just for show,” as American Beauty put it. And what we end up with in the third act of Gone Girl is merely a macabre extension of what thousands or millions of Americans are already doing — putting a happy face on for the cameras when what’s inside is sad and broken and probably best abandoned.

Gone Girl needn’t have been so incisive to be the hit that it was — that’s just a bonus. Rosamund Pike is spectacular as the ruthless Amy, but Flynn has smartly balanced this story out with more admirable female characters, played to perfection by Kim Dickens and Carrie Coon. It’s refreshing just to see so many women playing key roles in a genre thriller, but Gone Girl has a lot more to offer than a feminist casting coup. Amy Dunne is an evil genius — it’s only fitting that Gone Girl be the smartest movie of the year.

Gone Girl provides the best blend of smarts and pure entertainment in 2014. The real crime in this story is that Gillian Flynn was robbed of an Oscar nomination — which only proves Gone Girl‘s point about how easy it is to underestimate a woman…

2. MOMMY

…Especially a woman like Die. Unemployed, single, provocatively dressed, and utterly unable to control her teenage son.

Classical scope is having a moment. Widescreen presentation was originally invented to get people away from their TVs, and in 2014 several movies have gone back to the more squarish aspect ratio of yesteryear (as TVs get bigger and wider to emulate movie screens). Ida’s squared-off black-and-white cinematography is some of the most striking of the year, making a beautifully scripted story look equally lovely, while Wes Anderson’s Oscar beloved The Grand Budapest Hotel tells the bulk of its story in a 1.33:1 scope that seems well-suited to his mannered, obsessively symmetrical stylings. Maybe before long, every movie will look like a selfie.

But for now, my favorite Instagram-ready movie may not technically be a 2014 release in the United States at all. In Mommy, Canadian filmmaker Xavier Dolan focuses on a trio of characters brought together partially by blood and partially by chance. Anne Dorval, Antoine Olivier-Pilon, and Suzanne Clement deliver three of the year’s most powerful performances — Dorval is Die, a single mother coping the standard array of troubles a woman in her position would, and then some. Olivier-Pilon is Steve, who is sweet as an angel in one moment and full of explosive rage the next — and we, like Die, are never sure if we should love him or fear him. Clement is Kyla, a neighbor who is brought into their lives, becoming, for a time at least, closer to Die and Steve than she is with her own family.

This was a big year for maternal relationships, from the mentally ailing mother Julianne Moore plays in Still Alice to the maternal bond that forms between aunt and niece in Ida, from the New Agey space case who abandoned her Skeleton Twins to the mysterious mama in Enemy, from the boogeymom of The Babadook to the stone cold stage mom (and a ghostly dead one) in Maps To The Stars, from the grieving parents in The Disappearance Of Eleanor Rigby to the soul-searching orphan of Wild to the aborted motherhood in Obvious Child. Even the biggest movie of the year, Guardians Of The Galaxy, opened up with mommy issues.

But Mommy naturally takes the cake. Aside from the core trio, there are virtually no other characters of consequence in Mommy, a lovely, heartbreaking, and unpredictable story about three relationships — the maternal bond between Die and Steve, the teacher-student dynamic between Steve and Kyla, and the eventful, unlikely friendship of Die and Kyla. If The Skeleton Twins contains the best comedic musical moment of 2014, Mommy easily wins for dramatic ones. Maybe only a quirky gay French-Canadian filmmaker of a certain age could get away with using Eiffel 65, Celine Dion, and Oasis’ “Wonderwall” to highlight serious dramatic beats in a movie, but it works.

At first, Mommy’s tight cinematography is off-putting and claustrophobic, forcing us to focus exclusively on the actors’ faces in a way we’re not used to. But it also serves as an apt visual representation of Die, Kyla, and Steve’s limited options in this world, widening in select moments that hint at more possibility than circumstance will ultimately allow.

Dolan’s film is about the kinds of characters who often go ignored in cinema — people who are struggling with the day-to-day, doing the best they can with a raw deal. When we first meet Die, she seems crass and uncouth, not the sort of woman we’d easily warm up to. But that’s a serious underestimation. By the end of Mommy, we will have fully considered Die as well as Steve and Kyla, and we will know that they aren’t the way they are because they chose to be, but because they couldn’t do any better with what they were given. Without spoiling too much, there is a montage late in Mommy that is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen in a movie.

Mommy could have focused on any one of these three characters and been a terrific movie — instead, it gives them all equal consideration, and becomes transcendent. In many other years, Mommy would be my favorite movie, but…

1. BOYHOOD

…It’s 2014, and Boyhood.

What’s left to say that hasn’t been said? Yes, it’s boring to pick the same movie that the majority of critics dubbed as the best of 2014, the one the Golden Globes anointed Best Drama, the one most likely to take Best Picture at the Oscars. Seriously, when does that ever happen? Boyhood is just that good.

It seems fitting that Boyhood be anointed the year’s best film, as so many films this year had something to do with adolescence, from the storybook whimsy of The Grand Budapest Hotel to the children’s book nightmare come to life in The Babadook. A child’s imaginary world comes to life in The Lego Movie, and the villain turns out to be the boy’s father, who can’t see that playthings are meant to be enjoyed. In Interstellar, the bond between a father and his daughter, whose adolescence and early adulthood he misses, ends up saving the planet. Guardians Of The Galaxy is helped by a gust of nostalgia as our hero listens to the mixtape is departed mother gave him as a child. The Fault In Our Stars sees two teenagers dealing with some very heavy subject matter — their own mortality — despite the tender young romance blossoming between them. Disparate adults are brought together to squabble like children in This Is Where I Leave You. A mentor  abuses his pupil in Whiplash, all in the name of pushing a prodigy to the brink of perfection (or self-destruction), while a father contemplates ending all of humanity — including his own wife and child — in Noah. The Disappearance Of Eleanor Rigby sees a woman who has lost her child return to her childhood home and regress, while a woman who is no way ready for motherhood seeks to terminate a pregnancy in Obvious Child. Neighbors sees two reasonably young parents mourning their carefree youth, struggling to accept that they are now the cranky “old” couple next door. We Are The Best! saw a trio of teen girls try a punk attitude on for size. Love Is Strange explores the marriage between a very mature gay couple, but ends on a note that suggests the coming of age of a much younger character instead. A woman goes on a thousand-mile trek just to process her grief at being orphaned in Wild. So many adult characters were caught in a state of arrested development: the suicidal Skeleton Twins, the underprotective parent in Force Majeur, the titular savant of Frank, the chaste Ida, the fierce and feral teenager prematurely entering a harsh man’s world in Starred Up, the born-yesterday alien vixen in Under The Skin, the ultimately immature villainness “Amazing Amy” — a children’s book heroine — in Gone Girl, the immature Angelinos in denial in Inherent Vice and Maps To The Stars. And, of course, a boy’s is explored almost as exquisitely as it is in Linklater’s film in Mommy, but with much sadder results — you could call it the anti-Boyhood.

The above is a mixed bag of mostly-good movies, but none approach the level of greatness Linklater achieved in going out on such a limb, making a movie that could have derailed in so many ways. The year piqued early for me and anyone else who adored Boyhood, which was just about everyone — I was already all but certain back in August that I’d found my #1.

Few films have ever been made as ambitious as this — there’s not much need to reiterate that here. Twelve years, same actors, no set script, aging as real people do. Boyhood is a film about life, plain and simple. Though it chronicles the advancement of Ellar Coltrane’s Mason from early childhood to his freshman year of college, Boyhood is almost equally about his sister and parents. A curious thing happens. We often see characters aged up with makeup, and we buy the passage of time in cinematic terms, the way we buy a CGI mutant in a blockbuster. It’s not real.

But in Boyhood, time really does pass before our eyes in the most subtle of shifts, allowing us to connect to these characters more fully and completely than most. By the end of Boyhood, I felt something I’ve never felt in a movie before — that I really had experienced the last twelve years of these people’s lives. Because of that, I have a deeper connection to the characters in Boyhood than almost any other fictional character — the kind of relationship that is only built by reading and rereading a cherished novel, by spending years engaged with the protagonist of your favorite television show. It takes time to form bonds with people — real, prolonged amounts of time. The best filmmakers may be able to approximate it suitably, but there’s still that cinematic artifice. Not in Boyhood.

Richard Linklater, an engaging filmmaker who makes the movies that interest him, regardless of whether or not they fit the mold, is getting his just desserts at long last. It’s easy to imagine some other director attempting such a project and fucking it up royally, but Linklater knows how to find drama in the space between the signposts. There are few hugely dramatic moments in Boyhood, because there are few hugely dramatic moments in most young lives. At least, not ones that ultimately matter. Who we are is shaped instead by the little things — squabbless with our siblings, aimless afternoons spent with our father, some forbidden beer with buddies, our first love, a mother trying to balance her romantic pursuits and her maternal obligations. There’s nothing exceptional about boyhood, which is what’s so exceptional about Boyhood.

Boyhood is a unique film experience, but it wasn’t immediately clear that the public and awards-givers would warm up to a nearly three-hour film about, you know… life. Maybe in other years containing a juggernaut like 12 Years A Slave or Titanic, it wouldn’t have picked up steam. But in 2014, there wasn’t really a single release that had all the Oscar steam behind it.

I don’t want to take anything for granted — you never know when the Weinsteins can pull a King’s Speech and knock down a truly deserving movie in favor of some mediocre drivel. But 2014 does seem to be Boyhood‘s year, and deservedly so. It’s hard to imagine a more laudable project, not just in this year, but any year. It’s the rare movie that breaks the boundaries of the medium, showing us something we’ve never really seen on screen before. Linklater will have a hard time topping this one, but something tells me he’s up to the challenge.

*

Once again, it’s Oscar time.

This year’s race is gearing up to be one of the least predictable in recent memory. For every race that has an all-but-guaranteed winner (Julianne Moore, Best Actress; J.K. Simmons, Best Supporting Actor), there are as many that are truly up in the air — some with not only two possible winners, but several. Best Actor? It’s anybody’s guess whether it goes to Eddie Redmayne or Michael Keaton, and an upset by Bradley Cooper isn’t out of the question. Will the Academy reward Richard Linklater’s assured hand at shepherding Boyhood, a 12-year-in-the-making indie that’s full of genuine emotion and about as naturalistic as film can be, or Alejandro Inarritu’s brash, attention-grabbing stylings in the seemingly editless celebration of artistic ego Birdman? We’ll have to wait and see.

The big prize, Best Picture, is up for grabs, too, in a way it hasn’t been in ages. Boyhood was once the clear front-runner, then American Sniper made a killing at the box office and snatched up a surprising number of nominations. But not so fast! Birdman gobbled up awards from the DGA, the PGA, and SAG, making it the film to beat. And you should never underestimate Harvey Weinstein, who, as usual, is gunning desperately, cloyingly hard with his down-the-middle The Imitation Game, which boldly saves all the most fascinating details of Alan Turing’s life for the title cards at the end of the movie. Can we count out The Grand Budapest Hotel? Maybe not, given that ties only Birdman in nominations, and those who love Wes Anderson love him a lot. Even expected also-rans such as The Theory Of Everything, Whiplash, and Selma have at least some chance if the major contenders split the vote enough.

So there’s real suspense at the Oscars this year — for me included. The gold could either go to my very favorite film of the year, or this could be another massive disappointment, with a slicker, emptier production crowding out more deserving fare, like recent years that brought us such dubious Best Picture winners as The King’s Speech and Argo. Here we have clanging Hollywood ego (Birdman) battling conservative patriotism (American Sniper) up against sentimental indie humility (Boyhood) versus Harvey Weinstein (The Imitation Game). Which of these factions will emerge as most dominant in the Academy?

That’s a question for Sunday evening, but for now, it’s time to examine the true best of the year, across the board — those that were nominated, those that should have been nominated, and those who never had a chance.

Here are my Not-Oscars for the 2014 year in cinema!

(As usual, I pick a winner and then list my four other “nominees” in descending order based on how much I liked them. Check out last year’s Not-Oscars here.)

BEST ACTOR

Jake Gyllenhaal, Nightcrawler
Eddie Redmayne, The Theory Of Everything
Jack O’Connell, Starred Up
Oscar Isaac, A Most Violent Year
David Oyelowo, Selma

Honorable Mentions: Matthew McConaughey, Interstellar; Johannes Kuhnke, Force Majeur

My Best Actors for 2014 all feature men whose constrained exteriors contain (or strive to contain) something awesome or fearsome within. Jake Gyllenhaal’s Lou Bloom is the sinister, sicker cousin of Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort from last year’s The Wolf Of Wall Street; both are origin stories about unrepentant American villains, but not the type you’ll find in a Marvel movie or a Jason Bourne film — the kind you might cross paths with on the streets of New York City or Los Angeles. Many called DiCaprio’s performance the best of his career, and he was rewarded with an Oscar nomination (but not a win). Sadly, Gyllenhaal can’t claim the same, though his work in Nightcrawler is undoubtedly a career highlight thus far. It’s not just a physical transformation, though how a normally very good-looking leading man inhabits this too-skinny, weasely-looking creature of the night is beyond me. Gyllenhaal allows Bloom to be a true sociopath, spouting off sound bites he’s memorized off the internet to pass as a real human being. He’s one of the best bad guys we’ve seen on screen this century, not because of the depths of his depravity or any one particularly heinous act, but because of how much he reminds us that in today’s America, those who reap the rewards are often those who play dirty.

Eddie Redmayne, who could very well take home the Oscar this year, is infinitely impressive in The Theory Of Everything, conveying so much while able to say and do so little as the ALS-afflicted Stephen Hawking. Jack O’Connell, very good in the Oscar-ignored Unbroken, gets so much more to do as the outraged teen criminal fighting to survive in a bad man’s world in Starred Up. Oscar Isaac is cool and calculating as a businessman who won’t give in to his base desires for vengeance and violence, despite enormous pressures from his wife, his employees, and an unknown enemy. And as Martin Luther King, Jr., a man we all know plenty about, David Oyelowo makes a real character out of an icon while still pulling off the reverence and dignity associated with one of the world’s greatest freedom fighters.
BEST ACTRESS

Julianne Moore, Still Alice
Anne Dorval, Mommy
Lisa Loven Kongsli, Force Majeur
Kristen Wiig, The Skeleton Twins
Rosamund Pike, Gone Girl

Honorable Mentions: Jessica Chastain, The Disappearance Of Eleanor Rigby; Agata Trzebuchowska, Ida

My 2014 roster of Best Actresses is a group of very unhappy wives and mothers. It’s a crime that Julianne Moore doesn’t have an Oscar already; fortunately, that almost certainly stands to be corrected this year for her fine work in Still Alice. While her role as an intellectual grappling with memory loss may not even be amongst her top five best performances, that’s more of a testament to her stellar work over the past few decades than any shortcomings of the film. (This isn’t just a Lifetime Achievement Award gussied up as an award for Still Alice, as sometimes happens, but it is another example of Oscar rewarding a terrific actor a little too late.)

Julianne Moore would face more competition from Anne Dorval’s fabulous and complex portrayal of a suffering single mother in Mommy if the film were a bona fide 2014 release, but instead it fell into the awards season nether-region. Lisa Loven Kongsli was adept in bringing both the comedy and the pathos putting up with a cowardly husband in Force Majeur. Kristen Wiig went darker than ever as one of two suicidal siblings in The Skeleton Twins, but still provided ample laughs in a sing-along with Bill Hader. And as the missing mastermind Amazing Amy, Rosamund Pike’s ice-cold turn in Gone Girl conjures up one of 2014’s most memorable screen characters, a figure who will prompt feminist discussion and debate for years to come.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Suzanne Clement, Mommy
Laura Dern, Wild
Rene Russo, Nightcrawler
Patricia Arquette, Boyhood
Carrie Coon, Gone Girl

Honorable Mentions: Jessica Chastain, A Most Violent Year; Tilda Swinton, Snowpiercer

My 2014 Best Supporting Actresses are women in (or soon approaching) middle age, grappling to accept what is versus what used to be. Mommy begins as a mother-son story, and at first, doesn’t seem to have much room for Suzanne Clement’s Kyla; it’s hard to grasp exactly how she’ll fit in to the story of conflicted mother-son Die and Steven, and for a while, she doesn’t. But Kyla turns out to be an instrumental observer in the events that unfold. Kyla stammers and stutters, failing to express herself in the manner she intends to, but Clement brings everything we need to know across — and more. Mommy is a love triangle of sorts about a mother, a son, and another woman, but Kyla is in many ways the heart of the story, even if technically she has the smallest arc.

It’s a testament to how good Laura Dern is, always, that her role as Reese Witherspoon’s mom in Wild feels like the essential soul of the movie; it’s a nice tribute to Cheryl Strayed’s real mom, who inspired the journey that inspired the book. Dern was happily, and somewhat surprisingly, nominated for her efforts — Rene Russo was not so lucky, but her comeback in Nightcrawler was a sight to behold; her news producer Nina displayed ball-busting bravura and feminine fragility in equal measure, and I can only hope it’s the first of several more late-period performances we’ll see. Patricia Arquette, the most likely Oscar winner this year, plays second-fiddle to her on-screen offspring, much like Laura Dern in Wild. By the end of Boyhood, young Mason’s story is just beginning, but it’s a troubling passing of the torch by his mother, who grapples with what her life has amounted to as her youngest heads off to college. And as Ben Affleck’s faithful twin in Gone Girl, Carrie Coon provides the moral center in an otherwise morally fucked tale of vengeance and marital artifice, and plenty of comic relief, too.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Antoine Olivier-Pilon, Mommy
Henry G. Sanders, Selma
Ethan Hawke, Boyhood
Mark Ruffalo, Foxcatcher
J.K. Simmons, Whiplash

Honorable Mentions: Edward Norton, Birdman; Martin Short, Inherent Vice

If there’s a common thread between my Best Supporting Actors this year, I don’t know what it is. They range from quite young to very old, from good-natured to truly terrifying. They are boys and men, fathers and bachelors, teenagers and senior citizens. My very favorite is Antoine Olivier-Pilon as Steven, a teen who is sweet-natured and sensitive one moment, bursting with rage and violence the next. Ultimately, Steven is confused, and we are allowed to shift our feelings about how Die should deal with him from one scene to the next. But Olivier-Pilon nails Steven’s child-like vulnerability and also his rambunctious joy, aided by the likes of Celine Dion and Oasis on the soundtrack.

Henry G. Sanders, an actor previously unknown to me, did so much with so little in Selma. He’s certainly not a name many would recognize, and has only one showcase scene — but I felt more for his grieving character than anyone else in Selma, and I wished more of the film focused on these individual civilian stories (and less on the Oval Office). Ethan Hawke reteamed with Richard Linklater for Boyhood in a role that, like the Before Sunrise series, is partially based on the direction his own life took over the course of twelve years, but also managed to show us a wiser paternal side of Hawke than we’ve seen before. Mark Ruffalo was solid in Foxcatcher, an enigmatic and elusive film in which the two main characters more often than not left us wondering what they were thinking; but with Rufalo’s Dave Schultz, we know exactly where this solid meat-and-potatoes dude is coming from, and the scene in which he’s coerced to lie in a documentary about his “mentor” shows us just what he’s made of. And what’s left to say about J.K. Simmons, undoubtedly an Oscar winner after this weekend, as the jazz teacher who’s as menacing as Freddy Krueger? Not much, but I can’t deny that he made the movie. A long-unheralded character actor gets his just desserts at last.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Gone Girl — Gillian Flynn
Enemy — Javier Gullon
Frank — Jon Ronson & Peter Straughan
The Double — Richard Ayoade & Avi Korine
The Theory Of Everything — Anthony McCarten

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Mommy — Xavier Dolan
The Skeleton Twins — Craig Johnson & Mark Heyman
A Most Violent Year — J.C. Chandor
Nightcrawler — Dan Gilroy
Whiplash — Damien Chazelle

(I don’t subscribe to the Academy’s ruling that Whiplash was an adapted screenplay. As usual, the distinctions between Adapted and Original are largely ridiculous.)

BEST SCORE

Enemy
Gone Girl
Under The Skin
Nightcrawler
Interstellar

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

Ida
Under The Skin
Inherent Vice
Gone Girl
Nightcrawler

2014 Roster

    1.    Boyhood
    2.    Mommy
    3.    Gone Girl
    4.    A Most Violent Year
    5.    Nightcrawler
    6.    Enemy
    7.    The Skeleton Twins
    8.    Coherence
    9.    Frank
    10.    Maps To The Stars
    11.    Ida
    12.    The Double
    13.    Inherent Vice
    14.    The Theory Of Everything
    15.    Force Majeur
    16.    Whiplash
    17.    Edge Of Tomorrow
    18.    Starred Up
    19.    Pride
    20.    The Disappearance Of Eleanor Rigby: Her
    21.    Still Alice
    22.    Selma
    23.    Obvious Child
    24.    Wild
    25.    Under The Skin
    26.    The Babadook
    27.    Guardians Of The Galaxy
    28.    Foxcatcher
    29.    Snowpiercer
    30.    The Grand Budapest Hotel
    31.    The Lego Movie
    32.    Birdman
    33.    Blue Ruin
    34.    The One I Love
    35.    Dear White People
    36.    The Fault In Our Stars
    37.    Interstellar
    38.    Into The Woods
    39.    22 Jump Street
    40.    Only Lovers Left Alive
    41.    Unbroken
    42.    American Sniper
    43.    Life Itself
    44.    Godzilla
    45.    They Came Together
    46.    What If
    47.    Night Moves
    48.    Happy Christmas
    49.    Veronica Mars
    50.    Captain America: The Winter Soldier
    51.    Venus In Fur
    52.    Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes
    53.    A Most Wanted Man
    54.    Chef
    55.    Neighbors
    56.    Grand Piano
    57.    The Drop
    58.    The Rover
    59.    Noah
    60.    Listen Up Philip
    61.    X-Men: Days Of Future Past
    62.    We Are The Best!
    63.    Palo Alto
    64.    Bird People
    65.    Love Is Strange
    66.    The Imitation Game
    67.    The Purge: Anarchy
    68.    Locke
    69.    Non-Stop
    70.    Nymphomaniac
    71.    This Is Where I Leave You
    72.    Stranger By The Lake
    73.    Bad Johnson
    74.    Transcendence

*

No, Academy Awards drinking games are nothing new or novel, and yes, every other more reputable pop culture website has already posted one.

But if I’m going to be watching the Oscars, and I’m going to be drinking, and I’m going to be playing a game, I may as well be playing my own Oscars drinking game, so here it is.

I tried to avoid some of the most obvious ones, because I know me some Oscars, and if I wanted to, I could seriously get you drunk before 6 PM.

Have fun, everyone!

*

DRINK EVERY TIME…

Neil Patrick Harris says or implies that we wish he was Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.

A joke spoils (or comes close to spoiling) Gone Girl.

A mention of Selma is followed by a cut to a “person of color.”

Neil Patrick Harris makes a gay joke about Alan Turing.

Someone jokes about how The Imitation Game and The Theory Of Everything are similar because they’re both British biopics.

Neil Patrick Harris insinuates that a Gone Girl-like sexual experience turned him gay.

Ellen’s selfie from last year’s Oscars is mentioned. (Take two drinks if it’s shown.)

Someone asks if the show is “rushing or dragging” or screams “NOT MY TEMPO!”

Anyone jokes about how many Oscars Meryl Streep has.

Anyone jokes about how many Oscars Julianne Moore doesn’t have (yet).

An award recipient says they could not have made the movie without their spouse who had nothing to do with making the movie.

You see (or someone mentions) Groot from Guardians Of The Galaxy.

Oprah looks surprised by a particularly edgy joke.

Meryl Streep shrugs.

Clint Eastwood gets that ol’ Dirty Harry murderous gleam in his eyes.

Tilda Swinton looks like she’d rather be participating in a bisexual threeway.

Lady Gaga gestures in a way that is obviously meant to show off her new engagement ring.

A previous Oscar winner that you forgot existed or thought was dead appears to present an award.

An affable celebrity that another celebrity takes a dig at smiles and shakes their head good-naturedly but you can tell they are secretly digging their fingernails into their skin under the table and plotting revenge. (Take two drinks if it’s George Clooney.)

Someone mentions that they had a really clever bit planned, but the producers cut it for time.

You see a clip from The King’s Speech, The Artist, or Argo.

SMILE KNOWINGLY AT…

Anything to do with hacking or North Korea.

Anything to do with a fake baby.

50 Shades Of Grey mockery.

References to how American Sniper is the only Oscar movie to make a significant amount of money.

Anyone singing any part of “Everything Is Awesome.”

Any mention of Harvey Weinstein in jest.

SMOKE SOME POT IF…

Anyone jokes about how watching Inherent Vice makes you feel like you’re stoned.

Someone dusts off an old Matthew McConaughey bongos reference.

A mention of Wes Anderson is followed by a cut to Wes Anderson and an abnormally enthusiastic amount of cheering.

James Franco’s ill-fated hosting duties from several years ago are mentioned.

TAKE A SHOT IF…

Someone gets seriously sentimental or patriotic about American Sniper.

Someone talks earnestly about how hard being an artist is in reference to Birdman.

Someone speaks earnestly about Alan Turing’s sexuality in reference to The Imitation Game, which neglected to show him being even a little bit gay.

Lyndon B. Johnson is mentioned.

Anyone likens Jake Gyllenhaal’s character in Nightcrawler to paparazzi or people in Los Angeles in general.

An actor actually manages to thank the screenwriter who wrote all their dialogue.

Jupiter Ascending is mentioned.

“12 Years” is mentioned either in the context of filming Boyhood or slavery. (Take two shots if they are mentioned together.)

Someone mentions Meryl Streep while accepting an award for a movie that in no way involves Meryl Streep.

The second recipient of an Oscar opens their mouth to say something just as the music strikes up and they are promptly whisked off stage by someone famous’s hot daughter.

Anyone says “…or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance” in its entirety.

A winning actor or actress starts to talk about the other nominees in their category but stops before mentioning each of them by name.

The winning supporting actress mentions that it was an honor to be nominated alongside Meryl Streep, with the implied undertone of “fuck you, Meryl, I WAS BETTER THIS YEAR.”

A winner mentions watching the Oscars as a child and never imagining that they might someday be up there.

FINISH YOUR DRINK IF…

Woody Allen shows up.

You catch a glimpse of Lupita N’yongo’s brother.

There is a clips montage about heroes.

Neil Patrick Harris appears in a Birdman costume.

Jaws music plays someone offstage.

A presenter reflects soberly about how important the screenplay is but none of the nominated screenwriters have yet been thanked in a speech.

Anyone calls out the blatant fact that Birdman is exactly like Black Swan.

*

*

Bitches, dick, Jack Daniels, and Jurassic Park references, all rolled into one.

*

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My Top 10 for the year 2007 comes to you from the midst of the WGA Writer’s Strike of 2007-2008, when there was some doubt about whether or not a typical Oscar telecast would even be possible without those striking scribes.

That would have been quite a shame, since 2007 is one of the very best (if not the best) cinematic years of the new millennium thus far. In almost any other year that decade, my #3 choice would probably have been my #1 choice.

Of course, the Oscars did happen, with major wins for Marion Cotillard, Diablo Cody, and the Coen Brothers, amongst others. But it’s interesting, and a little depressing, to imagine an alternate reality where we never saw a bunch of very deserving actors and filmmakers take home the gold for a job well done.

(A briefer version of this Top Ten list was first published in my “Confessions of a Dangerous Film Student” column in INsite Boston in early 2008.)

“There Will Be Gold: In Support of Awards Season”

Let’s get this out of the way — naturally, I support the writers. Because… well, duh.
But I, like you, dear reader, also mourn the loss of things like scripted (read: watchable) television and those oh-so-glitzy Globes o’ Gold — almost as much as I miss the possibility that I might make money on a screenplay in the near future. What with my love of cinema (and the obsessive compulsion to express my love in list form), this time of year is basically my Christmas, and it is unfortunate indeed that a quibble has taken the focus off a slew of movies that are well deserving their aurous rewards.

So lest this strike never end, let’s celebrate 2007 as the year entertainment went
out with a bang — the best year for movies in quite some time — and, even if this year’s
Oscars are FedExed to recipients in lieu of a ceremony, I shall exercise my god-given
right to give kudos where kudos are due.

The year’s ten best films are as follows:10. ATONEMENT

There was never a chance in hell that a film could encapsulate the rich, stirring prose of Ian McEwan’s brilliant novel, but this lavish adaptation comes close enough for me. Beginning with a rousing day-in-the-life of a wealthy family (and their less well-to-do staff) in England prior to World War II, the film follows the fanciful Briony (Saorise Ronan) as she innocently invents one fiction (a play) and then a much more dangerous one that has devastating consequences for her sister Cecelia (Keira Knightley) and Robbie (James McAvoy), whose bright future is about to take a dark turn.

Despite an awkward execution of the book’s first tricky jump in time, place, and POV, McEwan’s haunting tale of lives undone by a child’s misunderstanding hits just as hard in the film’s crushing denouement. Joe Wright’s direction is assured and striking, particularly in the film’s more intimate first hour, before the tale takes on an epic scope (including an impressive but unnecessary long take of the beach at Dunkirk). It is only at the end, when Atonement unleashes a powerful revelation, that the full scope of the story becomes clear, and enhances so much of what we’ve seen. While the movie can’t quite match the impact of the book, it’s a mighty fine adaptation with a rare brand of emotional power that is not based so much on what happens to these characters, but what does not.

9. NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN

Darkly funny and relentlessly tense, Joel and Ethan Coen have centered one of their best films on the most memorable screen psycho in recent memory (played to oddball perfection by Javier Bardem). Anton Chigurh is as unhinged and unpredictable as that pageboy haircut would suggest. As in all the best white-knuckle thrillers, here, at every moment, we expect something much worse to happen than what actually does. No Country For Old Men is certainly one of those. It has a pitch-black soul — so that even the characters it spares don’t really seem that far away from annihilation.

Perhaps the Coen brothers are the most perfect filmmakers in existence to execute the grim vision of Cormac McCarthy. The Coens love to tell stories about foolhardy heroes who end up being the punchlines of some grand cosmic joke, and McCarthy is more prone to bleak chaos. Somehow, they balance each other out. The story is entirely unconventional when it comes to who lives and who dies, and while that definitely challenged me upon my first viewing, I also had to admire the screenplay for its daring. I’m still a little sad about how things go down in this film, which I guess is the mark of a good movie. The gorgeous Texan landscapes are worth the price of admission alone. 8. PARIS, JE T’AIME

A collection of miniscule movies celebrating the famed French city, highlights include shorts by such notable filmmakers as Gus Van Sant, Tom Twyker, the Coen brothers, Alexander Payne, Walter Salles, Alfonso Cuaron, Sylvain Chomet, Wes Craven, and Richard LaGravanese, along with brief but full-bodied performances from the likes of Elijah Wood, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Steve Buscemi, Juliette Binoche, Margo Martindale, Gena Rowland, Bob Hoskins, Nick Nolte, Gaspard Ulliel, Catalina Sandino Moreno, and Natalie Portman.

As always in anthology films, some chapters are going to be more enjoyable than others. In the space of just a few minutes, several of these shorts manage to be touching and transporting; a few leave us wondering, “That’s it?” Cuaron’s single-take stroll at twilight is impressive technically, but not narratively; LaGravanese’s segment feels like an entire feature rolled into a short. Some are heavy dramas, others are light comedies, and a few contain a touch of magic. All in all, it’s a fitting tribute to the City of Light. If only every film had this breezy sense of creative freedom and joie de vivre!7. IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH

Americans are typically more concerned with domestic disasters than those on foreign turf, which explains why so many of 2007’s current events films flopped while everybody tuned in for updates on Lindsay, Paris, and Britney’s tiresome shenanigans.  Too bad, because this mournful look at the effects of the current war on soldiers features what might be the best performance of Tommy Lee Jones’ career as he portrays a father searching for his veteran son’s killers. The young man survived horrors overseas, but did not survive those that still lied in the hearts of the men who returned to American soil changed by the experience.

Charlize Theron, James Franco, and Susan Sarandon turn in solid performances in what turns out to be a not-so-terribly-cheerful movie. (Films about parents mourning their children are seldom laugh riots.) As it turns out, this little David of a movie was no match for the Hollywood Goliath, as it got all but lost this awards season. (Jones did get a deserved Best Actor nomination.) It’s one of the most egregiously underseen films about current events “Over There,” featuring brilliantly understated writing and direction from Paul Haggis that even Crash’s most vehement naysayers would be hard-pressed to rip apart.

6. MICHAEL CLAYTON

Michael Clayton is a curious movie; it’s not really about what it’s about. Michael Clayton is a law firm “fixer” — no law degree, but an ability to smooth talk the firm’s clients into doing what they otherwise might not. That doesn’t end up having much to do with the movie’s actual plot, which concerns an attorney who has gone off the deep end and now threatens to undermine their defense of a lawsuit against U-North, an evil conglomerate of the sort that’s easy to root against. And even that fairly typical plot isn’t really what the movie’s about. It’s a character piece — one in which the title character is not nearly the most interesting character.

George Clooney is just fine in his usual leading man mode, but Tom Wilkinson, as a guilt-ridden lawyer rapidly losing his mind, and Tilda Swinton, as the ruthless corporate villainess, give two of the year’s strongest supporting performances. The script is so good that this slick drama can just as easily pose as an enthralling thriller, even if the actual suspense is fairly minimal. Not bad for first-time director Tony Gilroy (the screenwriter of this year’s similarly breathtaking The Bourne Ultimatum).5. I’M NOT THERE

Todd Haynes’ unusual tribute to Bob Dylan is for the most daring of moviegoers — those looking to take a ride unlike any other. (And not necessarily only for Dylan acolytes, considering I’ve never had much interest in either the man or his music.) Not so much a movie as a tapestry in motion, it’s more mentally stimulating than emotionally involving — but well worth seeing for the performances of such esteemed thespians as Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, and especially the incomparable Cate Blanchett (all playing characters loosely based on Dylan).

This is essentially another anthology movie, though unlike Paris Je’Taime, these “short films” are all on the same subject and all by the same writer-director. Per usual for such films, some segments are much stronger than others. The most striking is Blanchett, playing a male in a stylish black-and-white segment, though Ledger leaves an impression opposite Charlotte Gainsbourgh in the most emotionally resonant piece. Is an artsy, elusive film featuring a number of actors playing Bob Dylan (but not named Bob Dylan) pretentious? Oh, sure. But in this case, it’s also mighty intriguing.

4. INTO THE WILD

Full disclosure: I saw this film at a screening attended by Walt and Billie McCandless, so I was extra-attuned to the film’s inherent tragedy. Though I doubt I’d be much less affected by my viewing no matter the circumstance. Based on the true story of Christopher McCandless, Sean Penn’s film entrances us with the reckless derring-do of a young man’s quest for emancipation — from his parents, from society, and from mankind at large. Along the way, he meets a series of vivid supporting characters played by Catherine Keener, Vince Vaughn, and Kristen Stewart, along with the very excellent Hal Holbrook. The film is episodic by nature, as many travelogues are, but still manages to build toward its inevitable conclusion all the while.

What makes it work is the tragic fact that McCandless was ultimately punished for his arrogance against the elements, and we are left to feel conflicted about his journey. We get swept up in the excitementof his travels even as the backs of our minds nag: “Hmm… this might be a really bad idea.” It’s easy to admire McCandless for his bold spirit, but Penn is a shrewd enough filmmaker not to leave it at that (as many directors might have). We see the hole McCandless’ absence left back home with his parents and sister (well-played by Marcia Gay Harden, William Hurt, and Jena Malone). It’s all anchored by a bold turn from Emile Hirsch in a film that reminds us that adventure is not a game, man is no longer wild, and absolute freedom is not something that can be seized without consequence.3. THERE WILL BE BLOOD

Heaven isn’t exactly the place Daniel Day Lewis and Paul Thomas Anderson were matched, but the combination of (arguably) cinema’s most captivating actor with (arguably) today’s most alluring auteur makes for a hellishly good time at the movies. The film’s title promises blood, and there is some — but not much until the end of the movie. Until then, there’s just a lot of oil, as the titanic antihero Daniel Plainview goes from poor prospector to the sort of wealthy tycoon who can afford his own bowling alley. (Wink wink, to anyone who has seen the climactic showdown.)

It’s a thoroughly American movie, one that tackles a lot of heady subjects — capitalism, materialism, greed, religion — and also explores the complex and ultimately heartbreaking bond between Daniel and his adopted son (a “bastard in a basket”), who is eventually blinded in a cruel twist of fate. The film’s titular payoff is one of the most riveting final scenes in motion picture history, in my not-so-humble opinion — guaranteed to leave just about any viewer speechless. What else to say on my summary of this excellent piece of cinema, except: “I’m finished!”2. THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY

It’s damn near impossible to make a beautiful film about blinking, but artist-director Julian Schnabel and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski have done it. It’s the kind of story that could never be dreamed up unless it happened to a real man — Jean-Dominique Bauby, who suffers a life-altering stroke that leaves him with only one very unconventional method of communication at his disposal. The camera shows us the world through our paralyzed protagonist’s one functional eye without feeling claustrophobic, alternating the hospital-bound scenes with flashbacks to Bauby’s pre-stroke life. Strangely enough, we come to realize that he may be better off now, despite his condition.

Mathieu Almaric has the challenge of projecting all the rage, confusion, frustration, and sadness Bauby experiences after the incident using just one eye, really. If there was an Oscar for Best Performance By A Single Body Part, he’d be a shoo-in. There are some nice supporting performances, but ultimately the film rests all on him and the movie’s visual stylings (which make very good use of some icebergs). It’s a spellbinding, deeply moving experience that affects us all the more because it’s incredibly true.     1. ZODIAC

This is one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen in my life, and it’s not even a horror movie. Only a handful of scenes are even attempting suspense. There are no jump scares. (Okay, there may be one.) There’s not an excess of blood or gore, and the killer is seen in, what? Less than 5% of the film? Even the DVD extras scared the shit out of me.

That’s because it’s a true story. These murders actually happened. The way it went down is fucked up and perplexing and contradictory the way only real life can be. At this point, maybe it’s unlikely that the Zodiac killer is still jaunting around the Bay Area, but he could be, because they never caught him definitively. In fact, we have no idea how many Zodiac killers there are. Maybe one. Maybe several. Hell, maybe I’m a Zodiac killer!

(Spoiler alert: I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Zodiac killer.)

Movies have taught us a great deal about serial killers. They have tidy motives sprung from traumatic childhoods; they are masterminds willing to spend years planning and executing flawless crimes; their diabolical patterns can be unlocked by collecting roughly three clues, all of which were right there all along. But Zodiac teaches us something else — that everything we’ve learned from movies is wrong.

No stranger to darkness and depravity, David Fincher delivers his most mature and accomplished film to date, a complex mystery that painstakingly examines the false leads, dead ends, and twists and turns of a real investigation. A journalist, a police detective, and (yes) a cartoonist team up, represented by the A-list acting dream team of Robert Downey Jr., Mark Ruffalo, and Jake Gyllenhaal (it’s a pretty easy-on-the-eyes lineup). The investigation unravels them all in different ways, and this emotional toll is as integral to the story as the cold-blooded killings themselves.

Which is not to say that the handful of scenes depicting the Zodiac’s shooting and stabbing are not effective. They make Fincher’s Se7en look like Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, and not because they’re more gruesome or numerous, but because they play out like real killings. No killer has actually executed people as artfully as the madman in Se7en. Real murder, I imagine, plays out much more as it does in Zodiac, with an unsettling randomness. A few of the victims don’t even die, which is almost more chilling. And since they never caught the guy (that we know of), there’s no Psycho-like final scene that explains why. These murders are administered by a villain who is all the more terrifying because of what we don’t learn about his psychopathic state of mind.

Oh, and P.S.: I wasn’t kidding about those DVD extras. If you think this movie is disturbing, wait until you watch the interviews with real-life people who encountered the Zodiac. These are currently the only bonus features I have forbidden myself from watching when home alone.

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I’m tempted to post my review of Mad Max: Fury Road as a series of questions that popped into my head while watching it, but I won’t do that. It’s an early summer blockbuster that is being hailed by many critics as a masterpiece. Some have called it one of the most revolutionary action movies of recent years. There’s certainly something distinctive about it — that much is true. You can tell that just from looking at the pictures.

More than anything, Mad Max: Fury Road has reminded me that moviegoing is a subjective experience. One man’s Speed is another man’s Speed 2: Cruise Control. (I’m probably one of few people who actually likes Speed 2: Cruise Control, and prefers it to Mad Max: Fury Road, but let’s not go there.) Some people can sit through a film and find it wild and daring and completely innovative, while someone else — like, say, me — can sit there and be bored and frustrated all the while.

We all bring a little something different with us into a theater, and we all take a little something different home with us when we leave. Some leave with the treasure, some leave with the empty box that it came in. I was hoping to be exhilarated and dazzled by Mad Max: Fury Road, and from what I saw and heard of the film before its release, I had every reason to expect to be. So what happened?

Mad Max: Fury Road is a movie, I guess. At least, it contains some of the things that movies tend to have in them — driving, explosions, movie stars. It also lacks some critical aspects of most movies, such as a plot and characters. The end credits reveal a lot of cool character names, but I had no idea who any of them were, since few are mentioned by name and we rarely get a moment to bond with one of them. Even Mad Max himself pointedly doesn’t share his name until the very end — and that’s the one character I did know.

Quick question: I get the Max part, because that’s his name — but why is he Mad? He’s actually the most reasonable guy in the movie.

(I guess you can’t build an action franchise around a guy called Level-Headed Larry, though.)

The part of Max is performed by Tom Hardy — I won’t say played by, because there doesn’t seem to be a character to play. The Max character is basically a series of crazy stunts, with occasional breaks for squinting. Max is haunted by… something involving a little bugged-out CGI girl. Given that this is a dystopia, we can imagine that whatever it is wasn’t all sugar and spice and everything nice, but lacking any context, it’s mainly just there to trip us out. At first, Max only wants to escape enslavement by some other bugged-out-looking people, who feed off his blood for… well, there might be a reason. The main one we follow is played by Nicholas Hoult. Like Max, he changes his mind about wanting to help people at a certain point, without much exploration of how or why. There’s no time for that.Mad Max: Fury Road is basically a commute. Its characters all go driving in one direction for an hour, stop for a while, and then go driving back in the other direction. It has about as much story as your average traffic jam. The characters are all either hideously ugly or stunningly beautiful, which makes us wonder how much work it must be to keep up those supermodel good looks in a post-apocalyptic world. The characters are heading somewhere called “the Green Place,” but they should probably stay put wherever they are if they have the supplies to look like Victoria’s Secret angels.

I’m not here to nitpick George Miller’s apocalypse, though — mainly because, if I kept going, I’d never stop. You can ask a thousand questions about how this world does or doesn’t make sense — and I’d argue, it mostly doesn’t — but that’s not a fun way to watch a movie like this. I can forgive many leaps in logic as long as the movie gives me something to invest in, but in my eyes, Mad Max: Fury Road should instead be subtitled Mad Max And The Mystery Of The Missing First Act. As many movies do, Mad Max: Fury Road jumps right into the action, but unlike most movies, it never goes back to orient us in anything resembling a story. Despite the decidedly masculine title, Mad Max: Fury Road asks us to place most of our interest in the women on screen — first and foremost, Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), whose parents must have really wanted her to be an action heroine with a name like that. (No ballet lessons for Imperator Furiosa!) Then, a quintet of hotties (the aforementioned Angels) who are only distinguishable by their hair color and very vaguely distinguished personalities, like Spice Girls. (Seriously, we’ve got Ginger Spice, Scared Spice, Having A Baby Spice, and… I honestly couldn’t tell you anything about the other two.) Finally, there’s a gang of badass grannies — cool in concept, but also pretty indistinguishable from each other, and mostly here to up the body count for the third act.

Imperator Furiosa and the Holograms are on the run from a bad guy named Immortan Joe, whose main villainous quality is that he’s very ugly. We never see him actually do anything to threaten or harm these characters, until they’re all on the run and everyone from Column A is trying to kill everyone from Column B anyway (and vice versa). Immortan Joe is apparently in charge of some kind of water supply he occasionally likes to spray at people, but how much water is there and where does it come from? Is he being stingy, or does it make sense to ration it in, you know, a bone dry apocalyptic desert? The heroes’ plan, in the end, is to just turn all the water on at full blast and let it spray everywhere and seep into the desert, which doesn’t seem like a very good idea. It made me wonder if, five minutes after the movie ends, they all run out of water and realize they probably should have used it more sparingly. (Immortan Joe was right all along!)In the end, overthrowing Immortan Joe’s evil power regime is astoundingly easy and probably required zero driving. (An old lady in the first few minutes of the movie could’ve done it if she was just a little less terrible at shooting.) A lot of water is wasted, which is celebrated as a good thing. We have no clue what will happen next, because the rules of this world have not been established. We know nothing about what Imperator Furiosa and Mad Max will do now, because we didn’t really know what they were doing in the first place. Imperator Furiosa claims she wants “redemption,” but aside from being kidnapped from the Green Place a while ago, it’s unclear what she’s been up to that she needs to be redeemed of. About Max, we know even less. Maybe he’ll go see what that googly-eyed girl is up to. (Except she seems kinda dead.)

There are several jarring CGI effects that feel at odds with the rest of the movie: a phony-looking sandstorm, the unconvincing nighttime effect that basically just dyes everything blue. It’s enough to make one wish Miller had stuck to his guns more in favoring practical effects — so much of the movie looks so good that when it looks bad, it looks terrible.

That’s true of the world-building as well — what’s good is so good that it only highlights the weaknesses all the more. As dazzling as the visuals are most of the time, so much of this world is underimagined, leaving an endless parade of basic questions unanswered. Such as: if resources are so limited, what do these people eat? (Max takes a bite out of a lizard at one point, but I have a hard time imagining that’s the most viable sustenance available.) If these people don’t get any water, how can they survive? This doesn’t feel like a world anyone could survive in for five minutes, let alone however long it’s been since the apocalypse. Gas is scarce, but apparently more abundant than everything else, given all the driving. How? (I will spare you any questions pertaining to the baddie playing an electric guitar suspended from a truck, though plenty arose.)It’s not that I need the answer to every question that popped into my head. A little mystery is great! Too much exposition can be even worse than not enough. But for all the sound and fury of Fury Road, there’s nothing to care about. No real characters, and no story. Grand scale epics work best when we can identify with some aspect of what the protagonists are going through, and there was none of that here, because I’ve never been in a car chase. That’s all this is. We never saw where these people came from, we have no idea what they really want out of life. We know nothing about them, except that they’re probably really thirsty. (For all the business about water, though, we don’t actually see any of them lusting for hydration.) The movie is incredibly spare with dialogue, particularly of the conversational kind, and that’s fine. Imperator Furiosa has an immediate goal that’s clear enough — to get these women to safety — but we still don’t know why she cares whether they live or die. Or why she picked today to try. Why now? Where did the sudden desire for redemption come from, all of a sudden? And, given how erratic her plan is, are we sure these ladies weren’t better off where they were before?

(Had this movie had a first act, it might have shown us that these women were, in fact, not better off in the clutches of Immortan Joe. As is, we have no idea.)

As for Max, well… I defy anyone to come up with a single adjective to describe his character.

(No, “mad” doesn’t count.)

A lot of action movies these days have similar problems — barely-there characterizations, plot holes, a serious favoring of style over substance. The trouble is, I didn’t expect Mad Max: Fury Road to be one of them. George Miller clearly knows how to stage an enthralling action scene, and in concert with the cinematography by John Seale, the visuals are mesmerizing. On a technical level, Mad Max: Fury Road is exquisitely crafted. The film has a visionary quality that lingers in the brain like a fever dream — but so what? I didn’t care. The characters are as deep in the movie as they are on the poster. The stakes? If these characters die, then… they’re not alive anymore. (And many of them do die, with no emotional consequence.) There’s a lot of driving, but they’re going nowhere; a lot of stuff that would be super cool, if only it made any sense.

For my money, I found Miller’s Babe: Pig In The City a more thrilling and visionary film. (And not an entirely dissimilar one.) It had sharply-defined characters and a real narrative to go along with arresting action and enticing visuals. (Yes, I’m being serious.) We knew where that pig came from, where he was, and where he wanted to be… and why.

Some will call Mad Max: Fury Road George Miller’s masterpiece, and I will say he peaked with Babe: Pig In The City.

Like I said, we all come in and come away with different things when we visit the movies. Keep your sound and fury, and I’ll keep my adorable piglet, and we’ll all be happy.

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Continuing my retroactive Top 10 lists, this one takes us back to 2006, originally published in my “Confessions of a Dangerous Film Student” column in INsite Boston.

“Black Gold: Darkness Reigns During Awards Season”

I like fun. I promise.

But when it comes to selecting the year’s best movies, I’m not much for sunshine and puppy dogs — I’m all about drama. Whereas the Academy is more likely to recognize reasonably safe, audience-friendly films — you know, the ones that won’t send aging voters to the ER — the movies I reward tend to challenge and enlighten in ways Dreamgirls wouldn’t dream of.

So yes, this list is dark. It has a high body count. The films that aren’t death-centric revolve around drug addiction, pedophilia, or statutory rape instead. But considering how few of the silver screen’s pitch-black gems get the gold they deserve, it’s only fair that I recognize their murky genius here.

So without further ado… from out of the shadows rise my Top Ten Films Of The Year!!

10. NOTES ON A SCANDAL

Helen Mirren may be the critic’s darling for her cool portrayal of The Queen, but those who like their dames less regal should make note of Judi Dench’s icy turn in Notes On A Scandal. Dame Judi is positively nasty as Barbara Covett, a spinster school marm who takes a fancy to the hot new teacher on the scene, Sheba Hart. Covett both befriends and resents the younger teacher, especially as Sheba begins an affair with a studly student.

It’s wicked fun to hear the usually-mannered Dench rattle off nasty zingers from Patrick Marber’s script, contained in the diary that acts as Covett’s co-conspirator, as she convinces herself that she’s doing Sheba a favor when really, she’s lording power over her with the mistaken belief that this can somehow end in some happy romance. As usual, Blanchett makes for an alluring foil who imbues Sheba with layers of complexity. While it’s all fun enough to be one of the lighter entries on my list, we do have infidelity, blackmail, and age-inappropriate sex, which all results in a scandalously satisfying viewing experience.9. CASINO ROYALE

Sorry, Pierce Brosnan, but Daniel Craig makes your 007 look like 003 and a half, tops. The recasting of one of the world’s most iconic film roles is only the first aspect that makes Martin Campbell’s James Bond remake feel like a totally fresh franchise. For quite some time now, 007 films have been rather silly affairs, with the Bond girls and the dastardly plots only a few steps removed from their parodies in the Austin Powers movies. (That’s what you get when you cast Denise Richards as a nuclear physicist named Christmas Jones.)

Sure, Casino Royale is as slick and diverting as any prior Bond film, enough to satisfy purists. But it’s also smart enough to modernize Bond for a more progressive era with savvier-than-average Bond girls (welcome to the club, Eva Green) and a dapper but less smarmy Bond (notice that a buffed-up Craig is the one now climbing voluptuously out of the water). By getting gritty with the torture and making James a realistic, vulnerable human being, for once (gasp!), Casino Royale goes deeper and darker than any other Bond has previously dared, shaking our nerves while stirring our emotions. Let’s have another round! (As if there were any danger that they’d suddenly stop making Bond films after this.) It’s only fitting that the rare Bond film that would make my Top 10 list is also probably the darkest 007 to date…8. VOLVER

Being an Almodovar film, Volver isn’t exactly dark — it carries the director’s trademark quirkiness and colorful cinematography — but it also centers around a woman who returns from the dead shortly after her granddaughter kills her sexually abusive stepfather, so it ain’t Dora The Explorer either. Penelope Cruz is Raimunda, a woman who is busy dealing with her aunt’s death, her teen daughter, multiple jobs, and then her husband’s body after he’s been stabbed and left for dead on the kitchen floor. Raimunda treats this as just one more pesky task on her “To Do” list, and she doesn’t yet know that her mother has reappeared from beyond the grave and become her sister’s new roommate.

Even moreso than most of his films, Almodovar posits Volver as a love letter to strong and vibrant women — there are almost no male characters of any significance, especially after the pervy stepdad is out of the way. Cruz is so good in this Spanish-language delight, you’ll never want to hear her speak English again! (And I mean that in a nice way.)7. THE DEPARTED

Packed with the likes of DiCaprio, Damon, Nicholson, Wahlberg, (Martin) Sheen, and (Alec) Baldwin, it’s almost shocking to see so much A-list talent on screen in one place in The Departed… especially since, true to its title, nearly everyone bids us a bloody adieu. The Departed is a nasty piece of work, even by Scorsese standards, with a seriously grim outlook dressed up as a slick studio thriller. The premise couldn’t be any more high-concept, with DiCaprio’s Billy Costigan going undercover as an Irish gangster to try and bring down Nicholson’s crime lord Frank Costello, who has himself planted Damon’s Colin within the police force.

The Departed gives us the ultimate domino effect of double crosses and at least one seriously shocking death scene. But Scorsese is the master of violently dispatching great actors, so here, as always, we hate to see ‘em go, but we love to watch ‘em leave. If it doesn’t quite reach the annals of classic cinema the way Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and GoodFellas did, that’s only because Scorsese’s landmark in the past is so incomparable. It’s easily his best since GoodFellas, clear proof that Scorsese can still deliver the nasty goods when he wants to.6. THE FOUNTAIN

The Fountain is a lush, romantic story about eternal love, but don’t worry — it’s about death, too. (And thus, more than worthy of being on my downer Top 10 list.) Darren Aronofsky doubles down on the bombastic bleakness he wrought in Requiem For A Dream in this tale of a terminally ill woman (Rachel Weisz) and the husband (Hugh Jackman) who is desperately seeking a cure for her. Jackman also portrays a conquistador exploring new lands for Queen Isabella, as well as a lonely man traveling through space in the distant future, with only a tree as his companion.

Yes, The Fountain is ambitious enough to take place in the past, present, and future, and the budget is much lower than you might expect it to be in spite of its dazzling cinematography and special effects. With its sprawling timeline, fractured structure, and an overflow of Big Ideas, The Fountain is not for everyone, but Jackson and Weisz turn in astonishingly emotive performances and the film is equally unafraid of being overwrought. Rare is the love story that is really more enamored of our obsession with eternal life, but Aronofsky was obviously the right man for the job.5. PAN’S LABYRINTH

A young girl discovers she’s the lost princess of a magic land… sounds light, right?  Well, Pan’s Labyrinth is the only fairy tale in recent memory to also depict a man’s face being bashed in with a wine bottle, so don’t bring the kids.

It’s been a long time since we saw a cinematic fantasyland as richly imagined as this. And probably even longer since we saw one so devastating. Pan’s Labyrinth takes the “it was all a dream” trope of family-friendly flicks like The Wizard Of Oz a few steps further, presenting a real world we can really understand wanting to dream a life away from. Guillermo Del Toro creates a dazzling fantasy world to offset the cold, cruel real one — and when his young heroine retreats into her imagination, we’re as relieved as she is to get away from the brutality. As fantastic as his fictional monsters are, Pan’s Labyrinth reminds us that these created creatures are only born to help us deal with the real ones.4. LITTLE CHILDREN

Don’t let the innocuous title fool you — Little Children deals with some very grown-up subject matter, and though it’s less death-drenched than most of my list, it’s definitely not for children.

Two restless parents meet cute on a playground (Kate Winslet and Patrick Wilson, both incredible) and begin a torrid bout of adultery. That’s pretty lurid on its own. But Little Children also centers on a child molester living with his doting mother (Jackie Earle Haley and Phyllis Somerville, equally incredible). These damaged characters give into their base desires just like — yep! — the titular lil’ kids. It’s a funny, moving, and somewhat disturbing portrait of the suburban underbelly from the man who gave us In The Bedroom. Even the steamy sex scenes between two incredibly attractive actors can’t distract us from the unsettling themes.3. HALF NELSON

Ryan Gosling gives it his all as Half Nelson’s charismatic inner-city teacher, striving to steer his students toward the straight and narrow. But this is not your average feel-good scholastic flick. The difference? Here, teach has a major heroin problem, thus his every encouraging word is laced with hypocrisy. Fun!

We’ve seen plenty of films about how inner city youth are in need of a little TLC, and there’s usually a benevolent educator there to shine a guiding light. Half Nelson gives us the flip side, presenting the teacher as the fuck-up who may never get things right, while allowing us to instill our hope in the next generation (which is the whole point of education). Shareeka Epps more than holds her own as the precocious student who knows teacher’s dirty little secret. The result is a heartbreaking look at how sometimes, the people we look to for guidance are the ones most in need of intervention.2. CHILDREN OF MEN

Much of the Earth’s population has fallen victim to war and famine. And if that’s not bad enough, all of humanity is about to go the way of the dodo. Yes, Children Of Men absolutely belongs on this downbeat list. Fans of Y Tu Mama Tambien already knew Alfonso Cuaron was a terrific filmmaker, but with Children Of Men, he confirmed more: he’s one of the best. Ever.

In a not-too-distant future, women have become infertile. There are no more children. Clive Owen is just one of many sad sacks waiting out human extinction. There is no hope… until radical ex-lover Julianne Moore pops back into his life, with some big news: one woman in all the world is pregnant.

Shocking in moments, painful in others, and tender just when we need a break from the tension, every note Cuaron strikes in Children Of Men is electrifying in ways that bear comparison to the best of Kubrick and Spielberg. Through long takes and otherwise expert filmmaking, he builds the suspense to an almost unbearable degree and delivers a truly surprising moment of violence that tells us all bets are off in this sci-fi dystopia. His apocalyptic tomorrowland feels all too real — it’s one glimpse into the future that actually feels like it could be coming. (But let’s hope not.)1. UNITED 93

No need to explain why this one’s a downer. With 9/11 still very present in the public consciousness, it’s questionable whether we needed a cinematic reminder. But thanks to Paul Greengrass’ riveting, documentary-like approach, United 93 does right what Oliver Stone’s sappy, malfocused World Trade Center did not  — it strips away the politics and aftermath of that fateful day and takes us back to that moment when our generation faced true global terror for the first time. A moment that changed so much forever.

The filmmaking is remarkably invisible, following men and women doing their jobs, going about their business, on a day that begins like any other ordinary day, with no one (but a handful of terrorists) aware that historic events have been set in motion. It’s as if a documentary crew just so happened to be in the right place to capture the action.

With subject matter as monumental as this, Greengrass had the right instinct — go small. Give us the details, and let us fill in what we already know about what’s happening. As the second plane hits, we read on the characters’ faces the devastating disbelief that this is actually happening; as we’re stranded aboard the titular flight in the film’s final act, we feel everything the passengers do. But in a way, we did already.

The brilliance of United 93 is that it approaches September 11 with attention to detail that, anywhere else, would be boring; it focuses on nondescript, everyday individuals to capture our collective horror. We’ve been on planes. We’ve been at work during a crisis. (Though certainly a lesser crisis.) And we were there on 9/11, seeing an unspeakable event unfold on our TV screens.

Many have shied away from this upsetting masterpiece, but it’s their loss — watching United 93 subjects us to terror and despair, sure, but it’s terror and despair we were already subjected to in real life. I can understand not wanting to relive it. But what United 93 does is allow us to process the fear and the grief — not alone, but together. We experience the strength and courage of the passengers in those final moments. Presenting these events to us with as little razzle-dazzle and embellishment as is possible in a narrative feature film, United 93 is a rare, powerful, and cathartic masterpiece in which we not only bear witness to a historic event, but are allowed to become a part of it. United, indeed.*

(A “Then & Now” perspective.)

This Top 10 is actually a 20, because sometimes ten just isn’t enough.

Actually, it’s because that’s how I wrote it back when it was originally published a decade ago, and if I’m bothering to re-post it I may as well re-post the whole thing, right?

This stop on my time-traveling Top Ten tour takes us back ten years to 2005, to what is probably my most controversial #1 pick ever. (And also one of the most controversial Best Picture winners of an Academy Award ever, too.) I won’t spoil it here, but if you’re familiar with the year (and my tastes), then you probably know it already.

And you know what? I still stand by that choice a decade later. Looking back on these lists sometimes make me want to rearrange things, and occasionally makes me want to omit a choice entirely in favor of something else. Something that seems great in the moment doesn’t always stand the test of time. There are movies on this list — and any list — that don’t end up provoking much thought down the line, that I never bothered to watch again, while others are still as viscerally amazing now as they ever were and have been rewatched several times since.

Of course, picking the best films of any given year is not an exact science, especially when you’re in the moment, rather than looking back on the year with some context at a future date. So, on that note, you’ll read what I had to say about each film then, and I’ve also decided to include notes at the bottom of each entry explaining what my relationship to the film is now, and how my opinion may have differed.

Got it? Okay. Let’s go back in time.

*

(I still think this is Apatow’s best work.)

9. MATCH POINT
There’s something very sexy about Nola (Scarlett Johansson). More than her husky voice, more than her smoldering looks, more than that predatory confidence she displays, there’s a vulnerability behind it all that makes her irresistible (though we all know it’d be much wiser to resist her). Chris (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) certainly sees it, and if he’s a little sketchy as a character it’s because we’re meant to identify with him as he marries into the lifestyle of the rich and fabulous. That lifestyle, of course, comes at a price — the price being that his wife is too perfect, and things are a bit tedious when he’s with her. He wants her upper crust life but can’t identify with it — instead, he identifies with the similarly-classed Nola, and fixates upon her.Match Point is a movie about wanting what we can’t have — or at least shouldn’t have, for then we must pay the price… and Allen is clever enough to know that even acceptance from the mighty isn’t quite enough to ever belong. That is the basis for the fatal attraction between Chris and Nola. The well-to-do are completely clueless about the ambitions and desires of the have-nots in this movie, and it’s just as well — they’d rather not know. Certainly one of Woody Allen’s darkest films, this one displays his long-dormant talent for compelling characters and sharp dialogue. Gone is the typical neurotic, rambling Woody character he often portrays himself, though Chris is not too far off — chasing an ideal. The difference is, Chris is ruthless enough to have it, whereas Woody never has been. ‘Til now.(I haven’t revisited this film in a long time, though it did mark an important turning point for Allen. He still misses as often as he hits, but he’s made a few very worthwhile films in the vein of this one, whereas his frothier comedies are not usually so compelling.) 

8. THE SQUID AND THE WHALE

This film is a good film, but the title is probably the only reason why it’s on my Top 10. It is the reason I went to see the movie. Don’t get me wrong — the film is good enough to belong on this list, and that is partly because its title so neatly defines what this movie is about — a clash of the titans. To outsiders, the spats between Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney would seem nothing more than lovers’ quarrels between two people who are no longer right for each other, but experienced through the eyes of their two sons, their battles are epic, larger than life.

The Squid And The Whale gives each member of the family equal consideration, and equal importance—somehow we see things through the naive eyes of its adolescent protagonists and also see the truth beyond what they can see in the thick of things. The parents are flawed people who make real mistakes, and this is the unusual film that does not ask us to like or dislike them as people. The same is true of the children. There are no conclusions to be drawn from this simple, honest, truthfully-acted film, and no lessons to be learned. It is merely a study of a family falling apart and coming together, again and again, the way real families do.

(Sorry to be redundant, but I haven’t seen this one again either. I’ve really enjoyed some of Baumbach’s subsequent work, though — Frances Ha in particular — so I’d love to go back and revisit this.)

7. GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK.

There’s quite a lot left out of Good Night, And Good Luck that most writers would have included — the film almost feels too slight for its own good. But George Clooney’s luminous drama about the McCarthy era depicts what is on screen just right — complete with fine acting and a convincing atmosphere, all in glorious black and white. David Strathairn’s performance is certainly Oscar caliber, and the shadowy cinematography sublimely reflects a society scared into silence.

Journalism is the central character in this film, with real news footage edited into the film’s depiction of behind-the-scenes politics at CBS, and at the end we feel grateful for bold journalists like Edward R. Murrow. Without their opposition the course of our nation might have been dramatically altered… and we’d never see a movie like this.

(This is still the peak of George Clooney’s career as a director, although he’s certainly made himself a staple at the Oscars one way or another ever since. That said, this film is not discussed often, and I’m guessing that the look and Straitharn’s performance remain its most notable attributes.)

 

6. A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

The film’s title could very well speak for the career of the film’s director, David Cronenberg, who also has a history of weirdness in his films… and this one is no exception. The world in A History of Violence is just this side of reality, though its dramatization of the innate violence inside us is utterly truthful. Viggo Mortensen portrays Tom Stall, a man who has successfully contained the aggression within — until a holdup at his diner compels him to kill again.

That one act of violence, though in self-defense, triggers a chain of further bloodshed… people act out in ways they didn’t expect of themselves, unleashing inner demons they didn’t know they had. Tom’s son gets into fights at school, Tom and his wife engage in some very aggressive love-making… it’s not just the heroes and villains who’ve got a history of violence here. For delving deeper and darker into these characters than most stories would, A History of Violence is one of the year’s most compelling films. Is it better to confront our true nature or deny it and live in a contained harmony?, the films asks, but never quite answers.

(I still haven’t caught up with most of Cronenberg’s early work, but I’ve seen every one of his films since this one, and I always appreciate the off-kilter weirdness he brings to stories that could be much more straightforward in other hands… he ended up on my 2014 Top Ten, too. This is still probably his best film of the bunch.)

5. BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN

It’s ironic that such a quiet, introspective film has received so much publicity for its unapologetic portrayal of a homosexual relationship. Ennis and Jack certainly wouldn’t want such a fuss. Brokeback Mountain, in fact, should be applauded for how revolutionary it isn’t — it makes no compromises for the fact that its romantic leads are men, nor does it add anything to the story that wouldn’t be necessary if it was a romance between Heath Ledger and Maggie Gyllenhaal. It is like any other story of doomed lovers, and the combination of the time, the place, and their gender just happens to be what keeps them apart.

As directed by jack of all genres Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain uses the ambling pace and wide-open, spartan iconography of typical Westerns to ground the story, leaving all traces of progressiveness to the media coverage. Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger are both convincing, thankfully without “playing gay.” Much is made of Brokeback Mountain being a love story, and it is… but I prefer to think of it as a buddy movie with benefits.

(Brokeback Mountain is still iconic, largely because Ledger passed away just a couple years later, and this was his defining performance up until The Dark Knight won him an Oscar posthumously. It’s both a romance and a tragedy, an important sign of its time, when homosexual pairings were still viewed much more suspiciously than they are now. It’s kind of amazing to view this movie as a response to that, and see how different things are just a decade later. That said, I never thought this movie should have won Best Picture, though it certainly would have been more symbolically significant.)

 

4. WALK THE LINE

Joaquin Phoneix’s performance may be less showy than Jamie Foxx’s Academy Award-winning turn in Ray last year, but that’s part of what makes Walk The Line such a great film. Phoenix embodies Johnny Cash so naturally, you forget you’re watching a biopic… you’re watching a fascinating character who just happens to come up with some of the greatest country songs ever recorded along the way. Sure, the typical musician biopic staples are in place — childhood trauma, disapproving parents, womanizing, drug abuse — but what helps Walk The Line rise above that is that, at heart, it’s a real love story between two dynamic people (and not just checking the “love story” box off the biopic checklist).

Reese Witherspoon shows off her acting chops as June Carter, an equally compelling character who is afraid to be with Johnny for the same reasons she loves him. The songs featured in the movie are not just placed there because Johnny Cash sang them, but are actually fueled by June and Johnny’s relationship; they help move the story along. It’s refreshing to see a movie about a musician that seems like it would exist even without the iconic artist in question. Walk The Line contains not only love for Johnny Cash the musician, but who Johnny Cash was a man — lonely, brooding, and one of a kind.

(This movie gets a bit of flack for being too biopic-y, but I still love it. I wouldn’t want to take Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Oscar away, given his untimely death, but I do prefer Phoenix’s performance as Johnny Cash.)

3. MUNICH

Munich is no Schindler’s List, and that’s one of the best things that can be said about it. Though the heavy subject matter isn’t far from his 1993 masterwork, Spielberg does not attempt to recreate or outdo his Oscar-sweeping triumph and instead delivers a taut thriller that resonates with moral ambiguity to prove that, even as the best-known filmmaker of the past several decades, he’s still maturing as a storyteller.

Munich takes place in 1972 but, even better, feels like it was made back then, when studios spent big money to let autuers tell large-scale, lengthy masterpieces (and people went to see them). We empathize with the assassins in Munich, though we do not necessarily believe what they are doing is right, or what anyone is doing is right. The characters sometimes question whether what their actions are helpful, without questioning whether or not they should carry them out. Violence begets more violence, vengeance begets more vengeance, and at the end there is not more peace, but more bodies. There is no trace of the too-saccharine Spielbergian ending that marred this year’s otherwise-excellent War of the Worlds… there is no conclusion at all, the only fitting ending to a story with so many wrongs and no right.

(This film holds up pretty well in Spielberg’s canon, a cut above more recent efforts like War Horse and Lincoln. It’s his best film in the last decade, though I’d like to see him outdo it, since it’s still not amongst his top five or maybe then top ten.)

2. MYSTERIOUS SKIN

While Brokeback Mountain will go down in history as 2005’s groundbreaking gay love story, Gregg Araki’s haunting, little-seen Mysterious Skin is, for my money, edgier, deeper, and far more affecting. In the film, two eight-year old boys are molested by their Little League coach one summer; by the time the boys are 18, one of them is a prostitute while the other has convinced himself the “missing hours” from his life are attributed to an alien abduction. Neil and Brian don’t know each other; the film tells their stories separately until Brian begins to remember another boy who may have been “abducted” too.

The film covers all its bases without resorting to tired cliches about sexual abuse — from what we know about Neil, it was almost inevitable he’d become a hooker with or without his coach’s influence. He remembers that summer fondly. Brian, however, internalizes his trauma to the point of asexuality. By showing us two widely contrasting characters dealing with the same trauma, the film wisely avoids an oversimplified, after-school special mentality. Araki is fearless, delving into the film’s darkest material headfirst to show how a sexual predator might charm his way into the life of a boy under the guise of a father figure.

The performances by Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbett are some of the best this year. Gordon-Levitt, in particular, should be commended for making what might have been a teen-whore caricature real and vulnerable. When the boys finally meet again in the film’s haunting final scene, it suggests that the most intriguing, most hopeful part of this story lies just beyond the closing credits — we can only imagine how their lives unwind from here. The need they have for each other at that moment is far greater than love and certainly not motivated by sexual orientation — it’s something even Ennis and Jack could envy.

(I still think this is one of the great underrated indies of the past decade. My admiration has only grown. It was the first real display of Gordon-Levitt’s chops, which have been much heralded since, though I wish Araki would make another film that lives up to this one.)

1. CRASH

Everyone’s a little bit racist. Cowriter/director Paul Haggis takes this hot-button issue so head-on, some critics and moviegoers felt sideswiped… and listening to lovers and haters try to defend their Crash position is one of the year’s best cinematic debates. In any event, that this is one of the most divisive films of the year only proves that Crash is doing something right.

Crash, like many films before it, takes a group of barely-connected strangers and weaves them together on a string of coincidences — here, the forum is race relations in Los Angeles. What many of its detractors missed is that Crash is a metaphor — the characters say blatant, bigoted things to people of other races, things that are often left implied but unsaid in today’s PC world. They’re speaking what is unspoken… the characters experience the world not the way it is, but the way it seems.

Take the film’s most powerful scene, during which a black woman (Thandie Newton) is trapped in a burning car, and a white police officer (Matt Dillon) tries to save her. She tells him to go away — why? Because this is the man who molested and humiliated her the night before. It is unlikely that the exact same man who harassed the woman less than 24 hours ago would find himself pulling her out of a burning vehicle, but it is very likely that the woman, having just been violated by a white policeman, would refuse help from a white officer even when her life depends on it. But during this crucial moment, a new relationship is formed… she is a person who needs help, he is a person who can help her. In a matter of life and death, both put aside their preconceptions and do what most people, no matter how bigoted, would. They fight to preserve human life.

Some call Crash preachy because the white officer “learns something” in this scene — but who could come so close to death and learn nothing? Does he feel guilt now for molesting this woman the night before? Probably. Does it change his life? Does it make him a nicer person afterward? We don’t know, but I bet not. Crash expertly does what it sets out to do, and it is a touching, funny, suspenseful, scary, tragic, superbly acted, beautifully shot, and balanced film, with not one but two of the most emotionally affecting scenes in a movie this year. I could speak volumes more praise for Crash, but suffice to say you either buy into it or you don’t. Trust me on this, though… those of us who do are the lucky ones.

(Yep, I still really enjoy Crash, and I’m still on board with it winning Best Picture in this roster. While it gets a bad rap for highlighting flaws in the Academy, people tend to forget it was a tiny-budget indie that would ordinarily fly under the radar, and it’s kind of amazing that such a small movie could soar to such heights. I find that inspiring, to be honest. I still find myself defending Crash all the time. Every time I watch it, the emotional beats always land just right… except one, involving Ryan Phillippe’s character. I think the film is very misunderstood, and in terms of Best Picture winners, there are certainly more egregious upsets in the years since… Argo and The King’s Speech, for starters.)

*

And now, my awards for the actors, writers, and directors. These awards aren’t wildly original this year. A lot of my picks are already the frontrunners in their races, or at least in the running. A year in which the most deserving people actually get awarded? It’s crazy!

  

BEST ACTOR
Joaquin Phoenix, Walk The Line
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
David Strathairn, Good Night, and Good Luck.
Heath Ledger, Brokeback Mountain
Jeff Daniels, The Squid and the Whale

BEST ACTRESS
Felicity Huffman, Transamerica
Reese Witherspoon, Walk The Line
Q’Orianka Kilcher, The New World
Laura Linney, The Squid and the Whale
Joan Allen, The Upside of Anger

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Paul Giamatti, Cinderella Man
Terrence Howard, Crash
Brady Corbet, Mysterious Skin
Matt Dillon, Crash
Jake Gyllenhaal, Brokeback Mountain

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Catherine Keener, Capote
Scarlett Johansson, Match Point
Thandie Newton, Crash
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Amy Adams, Junebug

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Crash – Paul Haggis
Match Point – Woody Allen
The Squid and the Whale – Noah Baumbach
Nine Lives – Rodrigo Garcia
Me And You And Everyone We Know – Miranda July

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Munich – Tony Kushner
Brokeback Mountain – Larry McMurtry & Diana Ossana
Mysterious Skin – Gregg Araki
The Constant Gardener – Jeffrey Caine
A History of Violence – Josh Olson

BEST ENSEMBLE CAST
Crash
Good Night, And Good Luck.
Me And You And Everyone We Know
Happy Endings
Munich

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And in case that wasn’t enough, here’s every movie I saw from 2005 in order of greatness (or suckability, as we get toward the bottom).

2005 MOVIES

(in descending order)

1. Crash
2. Mysterious Skin
3. Munich
4. Walk The Line
5. Broke back Mountain
6. A History of Violence
7. Good Night, and Good Luck.
8. The Squid and the Whale
9. Match Point
10. The 40-Year-Old Virgin
11. Cinderella Man
12. Serenity
13. Transamerica
14. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
15. Happy Endings
16. The Constant Gardener
17. Me and You and Everyone We Know
18. Nine Lives
19. Hustle & Flow
20. The New World
21. Junebug
22. Red Eye
23. Cache (Hidden)
24. Mr. & Mrs. Smith
25. Syriana
26. In Her Shoes
27. Capote
28. An American Haunting
29. Ripley Under Ground
30. War of the Worlds
31. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
32. Jarhead
33. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
34. King Kong
35. November
36. The Island
37. My Summer of Love
38. March of the Penguins
39. Sin City
40. Memoirs of a Geisha
41. Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
42. The Upside of Anger
43. Batman Begins
44. Proof
45. Dark Water
46. The Interpreter
47. Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic
48. Gunner Palace
49. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
50. Rent
51. Kontroll
52. The Family Stone
53. Prime
54. Dear Frankie
55. Sahara
56. Pretty Persuasion
57. Hitch
58. Tell Them Who You Are
59. Flightplan
60. The Libertine
61. Winter Solstice
62. Monster-in-Law
63. Four Brothers
64. Dot the I
65. The Wedding Crashers
66. Just Like Heaven
67. Dust to Glory
68. Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
69. Be Cool

*

If you’d told me before the fact that a movie about male strippers starring Matthew McConaughey and Channing Tatum would have been amongst my top five films of 2012, I may not have believed you, except for one key fact — the movie was directed by Steven Soderbergh, who tends to elevate could-be lowbrow material above and beyond expectations.

The first Magic Mike was, seemingly, an anomaly — a relatively light-hearted summer crowd-pleaser with real substance beneath the surface. Shedding genre conventions like rip-away pants, underneath the fairly straightforward plot beats of your average frustrated dancer movie, you could find both hard bodies in thongs and a pretty astute treatise on American economics — a tragedy about the working class. (Yes, seriously.)

Magic Mike XXL jettisons the All About Eve-esque plot machinations of the first film (as well as “The Kid” character who set them in motion, thankfully). In fact, it essentially jettisons any semblance of a plot at all. It’s as frivolous as you’d expect a summer sequel to a movie about male strippers would be, but it’s hardly disposable. Like the original, it’s a rarity, but in a different way. Magic Mike XXL is less about this gang of hunks, and more about the people who drop singles to ogle them. (Women, mostly.) Watch Magic Mike XXL, and you’re not really watching a movie about male strippers — it’s the rare movie that’s true subject is its own audience. If you’ve seen Magic Mike XXL, chances are, you’re somewhere in this movie.

I can confirm this, because at the screening I went to, I was one of about four males in the theater, and it was a full house. The ladies were out in full force — mostly in their late 20s and early 30s, they were drinking wine and laughing and cat-calling the sexy guys on screen, clearly having a great time. In other words, it was a lot like most bachelorette parties, complete with exotic dancing.

Unlike almost any other movie put out by a major studio, Magic Mike XXL doesn’t care at all what straight males think of it — even less than the first Magic Mike did. (Despite the titillating strip sequences, Soderbergh’s original had a certain masculine bro vibe, largely sidelining the ladies.) There’s no gratuitous female nudity here to appease heterosexual men, and why would there be? They’re not at this movie.

Instead, Magic Mike XXL positions itself as a treat for the underserved — namely, gay men, African-American ladies, and women over forty, three audiences Hollywood almost never makes movies for. You could neatly divide the movie into sections titled “Something For The Gay Dudes” and “This Part’s For You, Sisters!” — it’s that obvious, and that goes a long way in making Magic Mike XXL as charming as it is. It makes no apologies for what it is, no concessions for what it isn’t. It is not only a movie about male strippers that will appeal to women and gay men, it is also a movie that gladly depicts women and gay men enjoying said male strippers — no angst or baggage, just pure pleasure. That probably shouldn’t be such a novelty, but it is. And that’s what a strip show like the one put on by the Kings of Tampa is meant to do — allow you to forget your worries for a night and just give in to the fun. In that sense, XXL definitely delivers.The plot, for what it is, has Channing Tatum’s Mike Lane returning to form, taking a holiday from his small but successful furniture business after being ditched by his love interest from the first movie. (I didn’t mind Cody Horn’s flat affect in the first film as much as some people did, but I’m also not sorry she’s absent from this sequel. Her replacement for this film, Amber Heard’s moody photographer Zoe, fares a tad better.) Mike rejoins his old bros on a road trip to a stripper convention where they plan to perform their old routines. Along the way, he convinces them to ditch their fireman and sailor costumes and instead, figure out how to express their own true selves through their “art.” Mike already learned to follow his dream in the first movie; the sequel has the rest of the gang following suit.

The film manages to work in echoes of the first film’s American economics theme in sly ways, as most of these guys have something else they’d rather do for a living than collecting singles for taking their clothes off. “Male entertainment” wasn’t anyone’s first career choice, but life often has us doing something we’d rather not do for money, while we wait on Plan B or C or X to work out. Magic Mike XXL is about embracing your day job (or night job, as it goes in this case), about putting something of yourself into it and making the best of whatever that may be. That theme may not resonate as well if these guys were all, say, accountants, but it works nicely here.

These very basic character arcs would be enough for a perfectly average sequel, but XXL is much less concerned about male angst than its predecessor was. More weight is given to how the audience feels — which is unusual in any movie, but especially unusual in one in which the major roles are still mostly populated by men. The stripping sequences focus less on the moves and machinations of guys taking their clothes off, more on how much the women are digging it. The audience in the big strip-off is filled with women of all colors and sizes — real women, not typical supermodel-y extras — and they look like they’re loving every minute of it. (Most of them probably were — if you’re going to be an extra, why wouldn’t you want to be an extra in Magic Mike? They provide the strippers and the singles!) It’s a fun reflection of what we all, in the actual audience, paid to see — what’s on screen is essentially exactly what’s happening in the movie theater, except with less money flying around, because we spent all our dollar bills on popcorn.

Yes, the extras are plenty well cast, and good for you on that, Magic Mike XXL. But what’s even more novel are the “set pieces.” Before the big strip-off in the finale, we visit a gay bar, a strip club for African-American “queens,” and a gathering of post-menopausal women guzzling wine. These are not locations you’ll find in any other summer sequel, it goes without saying. (Though I’d argue that any one of them would have vastly improved Jurassic World.) Writer Reid Carolin takes his sweet time in each sequence, to the extent that any forward momentum of the plot virtually stops to pay these demographics tribute.

First, Mike and the gang happily unleash their gayest dance moves at the gay bar presided over by a drag queen named Tory Snatch, and no one has to make any sort of “no homo” joke. These guys are straight — even Matt Bomer’s vain pretty boy Ken (though the actor who plays him is not). We get it, and we don’t need it spelled out for us, thank gawd. I doubt we’ve fully entered an era in which straight male characters don’t have to make gay jokes just to double-confirm their heterosexuality all the time, but Magic Mike XXL is a heartening sign of changing times. When was the last time you saw a bunch of straight guys hanging out in a gay bar in a movie, actually having a good time, and not even once reminding us that they don’t swing that way?

Next, the film introduces its Matthew McConaughey stand-in — Mike’s former mentor and paramour, Rome (played by a surprisingly up-to-the-task Jada Pinkett Smith, who’s pretty great). If this isn’t the film’s longest sequence, it certainly feels that way, as we take plenty of time away from our lead characters to observe various African-American hotties, including Michael Strahan and Donald Glover, strip down to their underthings. Technically, most of this is totally inconsequential the movie’s narrative, but it’s hard not to enjoy Rome’s confidence-boosting sermons as her “queens” get their laps danced. We see that Rome has built an entire business out of making women feel good about themselves, and that’s pretty cool, really.

Finally, in the very best of the three pit stops on the way to the big show, Andie MacDowell (!) of all people pops up as Nancy, a wealthy divorcee who is utterly delighted to have her home invaded by her daughter’s stripper buddies during a pinot noir-drenched girls’ night. Like the previous two sequences, XXL could easily have resorted to reducing these women of a certain age to cheap jokes, but there’s not a hungry cougar in the bunch. Instead, there’s a rather beautiful moment in which Ken tells a shy married woman that her husband needs to appreciate her for the gorgeous creature she is. We understand that Ken is, essentially, doing his job — making women who are not often fawned over feel desirable for a night — and so does she. But he’s also doing her a great kindness, the kind of kindness you wouldn’t expect in a summer comedy. Magic Mike XXL doesn’t punish its extras or supporting female characters for desiring our male leads, no matter how old or big or gay they might be.

(Also on the roster of women we might not expect to find in this movie: Elizabeth Banks, who, after The Hunger Games and Pitch Perfect movies, I fear is never not playing an emcee.)

Magic Mike XXL cuts “male entertainment” down to its essence. These guys truly enjoy giving women pleasure, whether it’s Mike trying to turn Zoe’s frown upside-down, or Big Dick Richie (Joe Manganiello) performing a ridiculous Backstreet Boys striptease in a convenience store trying to make a sourpuss clerk crack a smile. Yes, sure, the fact that all these hot male strippers are such nice, thoughtful, respectful guys underneath is totally a fantasy — in the same way that almost every action movie has a perfectly idealized female for its hero to smooch in the end. Fair’s fair — it’s long past time for the women to get their wish fulfillment, and that’s what this summer sequel is all about.

Magic Mike XXL probably has less male nudity (or near-nudity) than the first Magic Mike, and most of the dance scenes aren’t quite as inspired — that doesn’t seem to be director Gregory Jacobs’ specialty. (It wouldn’t have hurt to give us an extra few minutes of Channing Tatum doing his thing at any point. Who would complain?) The movie is clearly more concerned with giving us a good time than giving us a raunchy sexy time, and I’m fine with that. It may have been even more daring to deliver a similar story that really hammered home the sexuality, but ultimately, women aren’t going to strip shows for masturbatory material — they’re going to have fun. It’s not about getting off. (There’s a whole other genre of movie for that.) I’d argue that Magic Mike XXL delivers what any show at Chippendale’s aims to — a campy, slightly risque night of fun and laughter.

Will Magic Mike XXL end up on this year’s Top Ten list? For most critics, doubtful. For me? It’s definitely possible. Magic Mike and Magic Mike XXL are quite different, yet feel of a piece. The first one delves deeper, but I had a better time with the sequel. They’re both deceptively smart, and this one really knows its audience. We know it knows us, because we’re in the movie. It was made for us.

With that in mind, I’ll be saving up my singles in hopes of a Magic Mike XXX.*

These days, the state of the film industry can be disheartening. Studios are focused almost exclusively on franchises, reboots, and colossally expensive tentpole releases. Mid-budget movies have gone the way of the dodo, and even the “indies” aren’t as independent as they used to be — three out of the last five winners of the Independent Spirit Awards’ Best Film have also won Best Picture (Birdman, 12 Years A Slave, and The Artist), and the other two starred Natalie Portman and Jennifer Lawrence. Few of the more notable independent films in recent years stand for what independent cinema used to be — narratively original, formally daring, possessing a spirit that is totally unrestrained by the Hollywood hit-making machine.

They were once an alternative to what the studios offered, not just a cheaper version.

It’s not that honest-to-God independent films aren’t being made anymore — it’s just increasingly difficult for them to cut through the noise in the digital age, when making a film has never been easier or cheaper. Apps like Vine have turned every user into an amateur filmmaker. Sean Baker is not the first to attempt shooting high-quality entertainment on an iPhone, but with Tangerine, he’s done it exactly right, allowing the flexibility of the camera to capture the kinds of shots we don’t often get to see in a low-budget movie. In most moments, the movie looks absolutely incredible — but none of that would matter if he hadn’t found the right story to tell with his handy Apple product. Many of the characters in Tangerine can’t even afford an iPhone, but there’s something about their ultra low-budget lifestyles that totally gels with the energetic but inexpensive way the film is shot. If these ladies were to decide to document their misadventures on an iPhone, it’d look a lot like this. (That is, if they had some help with post-production.) Tangerine is the story of a friendship between two male-to-female transsexual prostitutes with very different temperaments. The first is fiery Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez), who has just spent 28 days in prison and emerges with exactly two dollars to her name. The second is drama-eschewing Alexandra (Mya Taylor), who is currently turning tricks for cash to bribe the bouncer at Hamburger Mary’s to let her perform a small set of holiday tunes. The story starts and ends on a typically golden Christmas Eve in Hollywood — the sun-drenched cinematography aptly underlines the absence of wintery coziness we normally associate with the season.

The plot kicks into gear as Sin-Dee and Alexandra are reunited at the seedy real-world location Donut Time — which, if you’ve spent much time in Hollywood, you’ll know is exactly where these characters would hang out. Alexandra’s loose lips let Sin-Dee know that her pimp boyfriend Chester (James Ransone) has been unfaithful to her. That isn’t terribly surprising news to learn about a sleazy, meth-addicted pimp, but it sure doesn’t put Sin-Dee in the Christmas spirit. She goes on a frantic tear through Los Angeles to locate Dina (Mickey O’Hagan), the “real fish” (AKA, natural-born woman) Chester’s been kicking it with. Meanwhile, an Armenian cab driver named Razmik (Karren Karagulian) picks up assorted colorful characters — you know, the sort of folk who aren’t hip enough to Uber — before his life intersects with Sin-Dee’s mission to drastic effect. This is already more plot than you’ll find in a lot of indies, and that’s just for starters. Baker and his co-writer Chris Bergoch don’t skimp on story, which is just one of several elements that helps Tangerine stand out as a truly innovative indie. When Sin-Dee does find Dina, there’s some outrageous catfight comedy before the film briefly becomes something like a road trip movie, even if the “trip” in question is only a trek down Santa Monica Boulevard to see Alexandra perform at Mary’s. (It’s a beautifully sad sequence.) Razmik’s wife and mother-in-law also become significant characters in an unexpected way, pulling Tangerine into domestic drama territory. Baker moves so nimbly between tones and genres, the film can be uproariously funny and immensely depressed all at once.

Los Angeles is the most overexposed movie star in film history, but Baker’s vision of Hollywood is a world away from what we generally see. These are not the kinds of characters who usually get whole movies made about them, and when they do, they’re often portrayed as tragic figures. There’s a little Christmas misery in store for every character in Tangerine, but Baker doesn’t pity them. They are agents of their own free will, even if their options are limited. If there was ever another choice for Alexandra and Sin-Dee besides the working girl life, it seems to be long gone by the time we meet them here. Tangerine is matter-of-fact about who these people are. They don’t apologize for it, Baker doesn’t apologize for it, and we aren’t asked to feel sorry for anyone. We witness moments of truth and grace from each character (except low-life Chester), but also the kinds of behavior you’d likely find in most prostitutes, cheaters, and drug addicts. These are not hookers with hearts of gold — they’re just hookers with hearts. Much has been made of Tangerine being the first film to premiere at Sundance shot entirely on an iPhone. That’s impressive, but it’s the film itself that’s worth raving about. Mya Taylor turns in a just-about-perfect performance as Alexandra; as Sin-Dee, Kitana Kiki Rodriguez isn’t quite as expressive, but her feisty presence feels essential. Neither of these ladies is a polished performer, but that works just fine for a movie shot on something you might be reading this on right at this very moment. (Performance-wise, the first scene is the roughest — get past that, and you’ll have a good time.) Editing, cinematography, and soundtrack are all top-notch, not just “pretty good, for a movie shot on an iPhone,” but damn good for any movie. Happily, Tangerine doesn’t feel like a film that had to be shot on an iPhone, but one that wanted to be.

Baker previously made 2012’s terrific Starlet, the story of a pretty young porn star who befriends an elderly lady, and starred multiple members of the cast of Tangerine. Both films are nuanced portrayals of characters who would often be looked down on as sex workers, but feel quite different otherwise, especially aesthetically. Tangerine made me excited about the future of independent cinema for the first time in a long time. As indies seemingly get lighter and more studio-friendly, Tangerine dares to be different. Scroll through Vine, and most of what you’ll see is underwhelming, if not eyeroll-inducing; this is what you can really do with an iPhone.

Few artists reach the literary legend status David Foster Wallace did — and fewer still do it with, essentially, one work. Many who do die tragically young. Perhaps there are certain eras more likely to breed this kind of tortured artist — Wallace was five years older than Kurt Cobain, and didn’t commit suicide until 2008. He was in his forties when he died.

Yet, captured in the earliest moments of his celebrity in James Ponsoldt’s The End Of The Tour, Wallace might as well be the other poster boy for Gen X angst — the literary Nirvana. The film depicts him on the last stop of his book tour with Infinite Jest, the 1,000-page tome that became an instant, unlikely runaway success — hailed as a masterwork upon release, prompting comparisons of Wallace to once-a-generation luminaries like Hemingway.

Stories about such figures tend to be larger than life, featuring screaming fans and flashing lights and usually at least one lonely shot of said celebrity staring mournfully in the mirror. An anguished artist battling an addiction of some kind — pills or booze or sex or fame itself, or maybe all of these — succumbing to the monstrous pressures of success.

But it should come as no surprise to anyone who’s read his work: Wallace refused to adhere to such a conventional narrative, and the first movie to be made about him follows suit. In The End Of The Tour, it’s not being a preternaturally gifted artist that comes at a price — it’s being human.

The protagonist of The End Of The Tour is an ambitious novelist named David who is not David Foster Wallace. That would be David Lipsky, whose debut novel The Art Fair didn’t make nearly the splash that Infinite Jest did. Lipsky also has a gig writing for Rolling Stone, suggesting to his boss (Ron Livingston) that the magazine conduct its first author interview in a decade with the hot new commodity on the literary scene. This makes a lot of sense for the magazine, given the cult of personality that rose up around Wallace, building him up as one of the tortured gods of the 1990s — a young, prophetic rock star in the literary world.

Lipsky prepares to meet this rock star, as eager as anyone to buy into the myth of the untouchable genius. But the man he finds refuses to be the man Lipsky is expecting. Lipsky keeps trying to unlock an easy, central mystery, the Key to Being David Foster Wallace — the kind of thing that makes for an easily digestible celebrity profile. (Ironic, since Wallace’s work takes so much mental mastication to get through.) What Lipsky’s discovers is that there is no tidy narrative, no singular addiction, no buried breakdown, and no pithy quote that can account for the painful prudence of Wallace’s writing. David Foster Wallace is not an addict; he’s a person. He’s depressed, and there is no glamour in it, no meaning or rhyme or reason. It is what it is, and it isn’t pretty.

Jesse Eisenberg played a troubled wunderkind to Oscar-nominated effect in The Social Network. Here, he portrays David Lipsky on the other side of that fence — a man who would love to be a tortured genius, but is neither quite tortured nor quite genius enough to achieve what Wallace did. (In the years since this 1996 interview, Lipsky has gone on to become a notable writer in his own right, but it’s ironic to note that his most meaningful work may be the one that’s all about Wallace’s brilliance.) Eisenberg, as usual, doesn’t care to be terribly well-liked by the audience, allowing Lipsky to come off as self-serving and vaguely monstrous through most of the film (though he’s ultimately not a bad guy). Lipsky’s a hypocrite — unhesitant to poke through Wallace’s medicine cabinet and hit up his ex-girlfriend for the dirty deets, but flinching when Wallace wants to know anything about him, and flying off the rails when Wallace has a conversation with Lipsky’s girlfriend.

By contrast, The End Of The Tour has nothing but reverence for David Foster Wallace, though it’s a more grounded reverence than we’re used to from most biopics. Eisenberg and Lipsky both step aside to make room for Wallace’s greatness, which goes rather undisputed by Ponsoldt even if the subject himself is rather humble about his talents. At one point, Lipsky suggests that Wallace dumbs himself down in everyday conversation so as not to alienate the “common people”; Wallace denies this, believing (or at least professing to believe) that all inner lives are equally rich. Regardless, Jason Segel’s performance is so full of vulnerability and depth, it’s impossible to take Lipsky’s side in this or any other matter that poses their ideals against each other. Generously, Eisenberg doesn’t fight to give his character equal standing — The End Of The Tour is Wallace and Segel’s show, hands down. (And this gives us every reason to believe Segel will be a part of the Oscar conversation come winter.)

As portrayed by Jason Segel, Wallace is both tremendously sad and almost heroically good-natured. Having suffered serious bouts of depression, he now makes a concerted effort to show kindness to the people around him and set himself on the same playing field as everyone else, despite a cult of celebrity that could and has devoured similarly talented men. Wallace could have moved to New York City or Los Angeles and been the toast of the town. He could have received nothing but fawning praise from friends and strangers. Instead, he’s a bit of a recluse, spending most of his time with his two dogs in chilly Illinois suburbs. He dresses for a radio interview the way most of us wouldn’t even dress to run to the corner store for milk. Fame is what he fears — or, rather, the inauthentic bullshit that comes along with it. Wallace lived for 13 years after the (never published) Rolling Stone interview, but his death hangs like a heavy cloud over the proceedings. Everything Wallace says in 1996 we know, in some part, fueled his hanging himself in 2008.

Most of the film unfolds in conversation, with Lipsky trying to provoke certain responses from Wallace, who rarely takes the bait — instead, firing back with some insightful nugget of quiet wisdom that outdoes whatever pull-quotable sound bite Lipsky was hoping to get out of him. It is reminiscent of a slightly bigger two-hander between a pretentious wannabe and a complicatedly private public figure, one that also boiled down to a tete-a-tete made available to millions — that would be Ron Howard’s Frost vs. Nixon. That was a great film, thanks largely to Frank Langella’s dynamic portrayal of Richard Nixon, and The End Of The Tour similarly owes a lot to the affable, unaffected way Segel plays Wallace, aided by Donald Margulies’ deft script. There’s never exactly an antagonistic relationship between these two men the way there was between Frost and Nixon — the script doesn’t build to anything quite so climactic. The friction between these men is more about the sadness they feel about themselves, yearnings and longing brought to light through this interview.

The leads are the movie — The End Of The Tour features only brief appearances from very few supporting characters. Mamie Gummer and Mickey Sumner play college friends of Wallace; Anna Chlumsky appears as Lipsky’s Wallace-adoring girlfriend; Joan Cusack is the chipper Twin Cities driver who knows nothing about Wallace, though she is quickly won over by his radio appearance. In a movie dominated almost entirely by two charismatic males, it’s worth nothing that every other character, besides Lipsky’s little-seen boss, is female — even the young intern played by Maria Wasikowska (Mia’s sister). I’m not sure this means much, but at least the women here are more than just objects of longing and lust for the men at its center. Though their appearances are brief, all of these women are fully realized characters, which is more than you can say for a lot of movies that are largely concerned with the male ego.

Though much trimmer than Infinite Jest, The End Of The Tour provides an awful lot of thematic weight to chew on, which is probably inevitable for any good film about David Foster Wallace. It’s drenched in 1990s nostalgia — Alanis Morissette and the John Woo’s Broken Arrow are featured prominently — in that strange cultural moment that fell between grunge and bubblegum. Wallace gorges on candy and junk food. He loves popcorn movies and brainless television. He’s addicted to these empty pleasures — activities, like masturbation, that provide a temporary, numbing solace from his despairing mind. (Which is the reason he’s given up drinking.)The film isn’t cheap enough to reduce either Lipsky or Wallace to “one or the other” cliches, but there is a battle between art and commerce central to the narrative. Wallace rues the irony that the more fame he acquires, the more he’ll end up feeling like a fraud; Lipsky takes note of Wallace’s lonesome life and still can’t help but covet his success. And then, of course, there’s the fact that this conversation is only happening so it can be published and devoured by the readers of Rolling Stone — which has a fine reputation for journalism, sure, but also exists mainly to feature rock stars looking all sexy and badass on its glossy cover.

Wallace is the complicated novelist who lives for McDonald’s and John Travolta movies, while Lipsky is the rock-and-roll magazine writer who tries to prove how “serious” he is by reading, well, David Foster Wallace. In The End Of The Tour, the literary world, like everything else in America, is depicted as the serpent eating its own tail. An artist like Wallace can only be celebrated through the magic of mass consumption, but the more popular his work gets, the less value it has in the eyes of consumers — and Wallace himself. Lipsky visits Wallace’s home searching for juicy details that will sell Wallace as a certain kind of author — maybe a reason for readers to feel smugly superior to him, or maybe a reason to elevate their blind worship to even greater heights.

What he finds instead is just a lonely human being who feels sad a lot of the time. Yes, Wallace has channeled that sadness into a book that a lot of people like, but ultimately, that celebration doesn’t change his situation any, and in fact might just isolate him further. It certainly doesn’t cure his depression, either, and for a wannabe luminary like Lipsky, the revelation that fame isn’t a panacea for all life’s ills is very bad news indeed. We like our artists tortured, maybe because we want to believe that there’s a price to pay for stardom, or maybe because we hope there’s some dirty, terrible secret that separates them from us. Or else, why do they have it, and we don’t?Every generation has its superstars, tormented and otherwise, but there’s something particularly downbeat about Generation X’s icons. Kurt Cobain isn’t mentioned in the film, but it’s hard not think, too, about his suicide while watching it. Like Cobain, Wallace produced one work that rocketed him to star status and suddenly posed his talents as a commercialized product — essentially, everything he thought his work was railing against. Ponsoldt does a spectacular and rather depressing job of miring this movie in its era — the mid-1990s comedown from the excessive highs of the 80s feels very ingrained in who Wallace was, both as man and as artist. His melancholy feels less particular to his character, and more emblematic of Gen X itself. (Which might be what made Infinite Jest so resonant.)

Culturally, it is probably only about now, in 2015, that we are ready to delve into what the 1990s meant, the way we’ve already exhaustively deconstructed the 1970s and 1980s. I’m not sure Margulies or Ponsoldt consciously meant to take on such a lofty topic, but it’s a fitting task for the movie that explores the mind behind one of the essential pop cultural products of the decade. (Can it be a coincidence that Wallace’s work has “infinite” in the title, while Ponsoldt answers it with “the end” of the tour? I doubt it.) In 1996, America was hungry for an icon — to replace Cobain, perhaps — and Wallace happened to come along at the right time with the right book. But ultimately, even award-winning literary titans are have to be packaged a certain way to make an impact. It may not look it on the outside, but The End Of The Tour is one of the most insightful works about modern celebrity in ages.

It’s nice to think that the silver lining of sadness might be great art — which is why we have The Bell Jar and Nevermind, Starry Night and Aladdin‘s wisecracking Genie. The list goes on and on — writers and musicians and actors and artists are our modern-day Christs, dying for our sins. They create greatness and, in the process, destroy themselves, and we consume it, enjoying their soul-searching insight without having to look so deep within ourselves. At least, that’s the romantic version. But there’s no indication in The End Of The Tour that David Foster Wallace would be any happier a person if he never wrote a single word. He is neither bolstered nor undone by fame. His stories and his depression seem to be entirely separate entities. But then, we can’t ever be truly sure, can we?

For all that he opens up to Lipsky (and us), The End Of The Tour‘s David Foster Wallace remains elusive. We believe he’s being honest, but still, he never comes fully into view. We don’t get the little detail that clicks everything into place and allows us to nod our heads and say, Aha! Yes, I understand him perfectly now. And that’s the point. It’s easy to define a person, particularly a celebrity, by their untimely death, especially when it’s their own doing. But there was a whole life that came before that. David Foster Wallace may have committed suicide at one moment in 2008, but there were many moments up until then when he didn’t. Moments when he wanted to, thought about it, decided against. These are the moments The End Of The Tour decides to define Wallace by — not so much by what we see on screen, but by everything we don’t that’s implied.

We are not 2,000 words in a magazine. We are not a 106-minute movie. We are not even a 1,000+ novel hailed by everyone everywhere as a masterpiece. The End Of The Tour is about many things, but ironically, it is most about how no biopic, no biography, and certainly no celebrity profile interview in Rolling Stone can ever tell us who a person is, famous or otherwise. No matter how big a book we write, we are so much infinitely bigger.

*

(A “Then & Now” perspective.)

Like my 2005 list, this Top Ten comes at you twenty strong, because that’s how I wrote it back in the day on my LiveJournal. And like last time, I’ll be adding my commentary about how the movies have held up 11 years later, because tastes change. Some of these movies have aged well in my mind, and others? Not so much.

I don’t think of 2004 as a particularly strong cinematic year in the abstract, mostly because the movies that dominated the Oscars fell, in my mind, in “good, but not great” territory. (They’re in my Top 20 here, but mostly not in the Top Ten.) A Clint Eastwood movie cleaned up in Best Picture, Best Director, and two of the acting categories, and three biopics of varying quality also made stronger showings than they probably deserved. (Those would be the biopics of Ray Charles, Howard Hughes, and J.M. Barrie.) Even the year’s critical darling, Sideways — which did manage to come away with several nominations, including Best Picture — felt too uneven for me to wholeheartedly embrace, despite some lovely moments. (More on that later.)

However, now that I’m looking at 2004 again, I realize how many incredibly strong films came out that year, several of which I’d count amongst my favorites. They just weren’t incredibly well-represented at the Oscars.

So here it is. Let’s revisit 2004.

*

THE TOP 20 FILMS OF 2004

20. RAY

Jamie Foxx had the Oscar for Ray before the film was even released; now that he’s won a Golden Globe, he’s almost a shoo-in to take home the golden guy. I’m happy to say it’ll be a well-deserved award, for Foxx not only captures Ray Charles in a way that few other actors could, but also makes him a dynamic character. Smartly, the film avoids using his blindness as too much of a foil, and allows the story to delve into some of the darker elements of Charles’ life (heavy drug use and lots of womanizing, though they’ve been toned down a bit). Supporting performances are solid and the film has a nifty structure, though I wish it didn’t devolve into Trainspotting territory toward the end. The best moments in Ray are far better than the picture as a whole; those moments are good enough for me. Congratulations in advance, Jamie.

(I haven’t revisted Ray. Of course, Foxx did win the Oscar, and that remains the primary reason the film is at all noteworthy. Like Walk The Line, released the next year, this one became the go-to example for a “typical” musician biopic, the sort mocked in Walk Hard. I’d be curious to see how it plays now, but not quite curious enough to seek it out.)19. MEAN GIRLS

There aren’t many comedies these days that actually get funnier every time you watch them; Tina Fey’s first screenplay (adeptly adapted from a nonfiction book) isn’t a triumph of storytelling, but its consistently wry humor makes repeat viewing enjoyable. No movie this year has spawned half as many worthy one-liners, and the performances are all tons of fun. Lindsay Lohan is a capable leading lady, but Rachel McAdams steals the show as Plastic Regina George, a complete bitch we’d still totally hang out with. Lots of stuff, like a running joke that compares teen girls to feral animals, is funny, but it’s the little things that make this movie stand out: Amy Poehler’s hilarious “Cool Mom,” for one. It’d be pretty lame to call this movie “so fetch,” so… I’m not going to try and make fetch happen. But it’s, y’know… fun.

(Oh, here we go. It’s almost funny to see a comedy staple like this on a Top 20 list. Mean Girls really has held up as one of the most consistent comedies of this century. It hasn’t aged a bit, and in fact, a lot of its more subtle jokes really do take a few viewings to catch on… but now, of course, you’ll hear them quoted often. Fey’s zany brand of humor plays a little better now that we’ve seen 30 Rock and gotten used to it. I still don’t know that this is Top 10 material, but I’m sure I’ve seen it more than any other movie from 2004, so maybe it deserves to be up there.)

18. SIDEWAYS

Critics have overpraised this simple comedy, stretching a small, low-key movie into “the best movie of the year!!” In its straightforwardness and lack of focus, Sideways can’t quite fulfill that hefty obligation, but let’s not forget the movie’s charms: a solid leading man in Paul Giamatti and a lovely supporting performance from Virginia Madsen; a setting and subject that allow for lush, wine-soaked set pieces; and some delicious dialogue in the film’s best scenes. Parts of the movie are superbly written and directed, others left me wanting more from the script. The best scenes center around two middle-aged men struggling with new relationships mid-life. (Have they aged as well as the wine they’re drinking? Not really.) The worst scenes depend partially upon Thomas Haden Church’s one-note, sitcom-level performance, which would be a complete bust if not for his character’s funny lines (as is, he brings nothing to the underwritten character or the movie itself). Still, there are enough funny and touching moments in the film to recommend it — though it’d be far more enjoyable if you imbibed some merlot beforehand.

(I had a bone to pick with Sideways in 2004. I simply didn’t enjoy it as much as most critics did, and I got tired of the heapings of praise I kept hearing. I stand by my assessment of Sideways as a flawed movie, though I’m probably not quite as bothered by it anymore. I’d still call it ever-so-slightly overrated.)

17. HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN

Harry Potter has hit puberty, and so has the series of films based on his adventures. Director Alfonso Cuaron infuses new life into the series, lifting the story off the page and creating a story that truly is as magical as it ought to be. The film isn’t afraid to go a little darker than the prior films in the series, no doubt setting up even further mayhem at Hogwarts. Almost universally agreed to be the best of the Potter films, Harry Potter and the Prisoner Azkaban has me eager for more.

(While all of the following Potter sequels were good enough, none were quite as daring as this. Cuaron was the only filmmaker to really put his own stamp on a Potter movie.)

16. FINDING NEVERLAND

A story can’t really be any cuter than one about the creator of beloved childhood hero Peter Pan and his make-believe games with the real-life boys who inspired it. Really, it just can’t. Unless that man is played by Johnny Depp, doing an accent. Hooray for Finding Neverland, then! It’s a bit somber for a family film, a bit light for an adult drama, but Finding Neverland tells an engaging story with a fine cast (Kate Winslet, Julie Christie, Freddie Highmore, Radha Mitchell, and Dustin Hoffman all do solid work). It touches on important, mature themes, but never strays far from childhood, much like its subject. Strangely enough, the figure who never quite comes into focus is J.M. Barrie himself, but the movie is so good-natured and well-executed we hardly notice. Seeing “Peter Pan” performed for the first time (and how people react to it) is especially fun.

(This review tells me I liked this movie a lot more in 2004 than I thought I did. I don’t recall any particular for it, maybe because Depp has overstayed his welcome as a movie star in his latest endeavors. On the other hand, Kate Winslet is worth watching, always. I still don’t see myself going out of my way to see this again.) 15. A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT

Audrey Tautou more or less reprises the role of Amelie for Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s wartime love story about a woman determined to find her lost lover against all odds. The cinematography is beautiful, and the more serious subject matter lends itself to Jeunet’s talents for creating big moments out of small things. Tautou is winning, as always, and the supporting characters are just as well-drawn. A sweeping love story, an epic war, comedy, drama, suspense, Jodie Foster, and the French — A Very Long Engagement has it all.

(I’ll have to trust my 2004 opinion. This isn’t a movie I’ve thought much about, though I’m sure it’s perfectly fine, still. The problem with Top 20 lists is that they’re bound to be padded with some decent but unremarkable films.)

14. MILLION DOLLAR BABY

Okay, so Clint Eastwood looks like an exhumed corpse and the trailer made this movie look godawful. It’s actually pretty good. Hilary Swank deserves the Oscar she’s probably going to get for her portrayal of a driven boxer-wannabe who won’t give up because she’s got no other future. Morgan Freeman lends his graceful presence as the narrator and Eastwood’s longtime friend, and he too will be nominated for his efforts here. Eastwood’s gruff presence is sometimes right on target and sometimes a little awkward (I personally think it’d be a better film with someone else as the lead), but that’s the way he likes it. He takes his sweet time getting to where the story is going, but it thankfully deviates from the usual sports champion film formula and instead delves into some dark, somber themes. Eastwood should be praised for his originality in tackling the material, from his moody (lack of) lighting to his willingness to abandon the tried-and-true Hollywood champ-movie formula. Million Dollar Baby packs in a few surprises — one of them being that it’s not terrible.

(Ouch. Some harsh words from 2004 me. I think Eastwood’s movies are often more acclaimed than they should be — though many of his more recent efforts have earned dwindling praise for this very reason — but this one does feel like a bit of a classic. It’s easy to see why it won so many Oscars, including Best Picture, though I still wouldn’t count it amongst my favorite films. Leaving it off my Top 10 may have been a reaction against its frontrunner status — fair enough, though it’s possible I’d find room for it now. Then again, maybe not.)

13. HOTEL RWANDA

It’s hard to compare a movie about mass genocide to one about a few characters squabbling over adultery or enjoying a hootenanny in wine country. As far as big themes go, Hotel Rwanda is the most important film of the year. While the film is competently (but not super impressively) written and directed, the subject matter transcends any flaws that could be found in the storytelling. Hotel Rwanda tells the true story of a man who used his hotel-manager savvy to do an entirely different sort of negotiation, saving the lives of hundreds of Rwandans targeted for death. As that man, Don Cheadle gives an utterly convincing performance that should pave the way for his status as a leading man — and earn him an Oscar nomination. (Sophie Okonedo, as his wife, deserves props as well.)

Though absent of graphic violence, Hotel Rwanda can be difficult to watch — there is constant tension as we wonder how these people are going to stay alive. But the film’s refusal to wallow in unimaginable horror — criticized by some for treating genocide too lightly — and the protagonist’s modest heroism make it watchable and even, at times, uplifting. Director Terry George makes a subtle but clear point about international relations with Africa (basically, that the Western world is unwilling to concern itself with Africa’s troubles), but thankfully leaves unnecessary politics aside, focusing the story entirely on Rwandans. There’s no denying the power of a story like this one, one that many moviegoers will know nothing about. There are some haunting moments here, and while the film doesn’t leave the kind of imprint Schindler’s List does, it isn’t too far off.

(Through a twist of fate, I ended up sitting through this twice in week, which was not ideal. I haven’t watched it since, but I still have a high enough opinion of it. #13 seems like the right slot to me.)12. MEAN CREEK

It’s easy to dismiss or even forget Mean Creek as the subtle gem that it is, but writer-director Jacob Aaron Estes has made a tiny masterpiece that perfectly captures the ferocity and frailty of adolescent males. The film avoids cliches, making every character — even its meanest ones — a real person. Led by an unusually talented young cast (some familiar faces like Trevor Morgan, Scott Mechlowicz, and Kieran Culkin joined by newcomers Ryan Kelley, Josh Peck, and Carly Schroeder — all considerably talented and spot-on), the story is a straightforward, simplistic one, tackling big themes with its young characters. These kids don’t act like adults when faced with tragedy — they act like adolescents, making big, stupid mistakes, and they deal with the consequences. The film is layered with male-male relationships: between brothers, friends, a bully and his victims, all of which seem like natural, uncharted territory. I can’t think of a film that better understands the unspoken rules and hierarchies of adolescent males, the ways they interact with one another, their fears and insecurities. Truly one of the most underrated, underseen films of the year.

(Yep! And still not a movie most people know about. It probably deserved to be in my proper Top Ten, which made me want to cheat and sneak it in there, but instead I preserved the list as it was in 2004, so here it is at #12.)

11. THE BOURNE SUPREMACY

If Collateral was the 2004 film that showed that thrillers can be done in exciting new ways, The Bourne Supremacy is the one that proves there ain’t nothing wrong with tradition. That isn’t to say that Bourne is by-the-numbers in any way — everything here feels fresh, which is particularly impressive since this film is a sequel. This time, Jason Bourne is the hunter, under the false impression that Treadstone is still after him. He still struggles with his memory loss; he is still tortured by his dual-sides: sensitive Matt Damon guy versus calculating killing machine. Damon proves again that he’s a true movie star while Paul Greengrass directs with a fresh, almost documentary-like approach, so the action is all the more immediate and engrossing. It’s all pretty standard fare, but the superb cast (also including Julia Stiles and the always-outstanding Joan Allen) and stylish direction make this an action film that is truly, truly exciting. (Perhaps my favorite moment is the film’s last scene, reincorporating Moby’s “Extreme Ways” at just the right moment.) There are no frills here, just pure, unadulterated wham-bam action. And it’s so much fucking fun.

(This film is actually even more notable than it seemed at the time, one of the first to usher in the handheld camera in a blockbuster — which is now such an action staple, you’ll see almost zero movies that don’t use it. It remains the strongest of the Bourne movies.)

And now, for our main attraction… The Top 10!

10. THE AVIATOR

In a year where most of the would-be epics were anything but (Troy, Alexander, The Alamo), it’s refreshing to see one of those big-star, big-director, big-movie movies actually get it right. Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio make up for the misbegotten Gangs Of New York with the Howard Hughes biopic that deftly balances the man’s soaring career and dazzling public persona with his shadier private life (madness and womanizing and nudity, oh my!). As an added bonus, we are taken back to the glory days of Hollywood to fraternize with icons like Ava Gardner, Louis B. Mayer, Jean Harlow, Erroll Flynn, and Katharine Hepburn.

Like any Scorsese production these days, the film rounds up one of the most impressive casts imaginable — Alec Baldwin, Alan Alda, John C. Reilly, Jude Law, Kate Beckinsale, Willem Dafoe — plus, of course, Cate Blanchett’s very showy turn as the very showy Katherine Hepburn. DiCaprio’s performance is one of his very best and Scorsese’s filmmaking is exciting. You can call the movie bloated, but it’s bloated with so much good stuff it’s hard to complain. There’s something to be said for the big prestigious Hollywood drama that actually delivers.

(I know not every Scorsese fan ranks this amongst his best, and sure, it’s no GoodFellas or Taxi Driver. I have a fondness for Scorsese’s excesses, which is how I picked the similarly sprawling The Wolf Of Wall Street as my favorite film of 2013. I can understand anyone who feels like it’s all too much, but I’ll take this over Ray or Finding Neverland any day.)

9. THE INCREDIBLES

There’s no question that The Incredibles provides some of the most entertainment value you’ll get in any movie this year. What it also does is redefine our expectations of the computer-animated film: The Incredibles masquerades as a family movie, but most of it is pitched at an adult level — which isn’t to say the kids don’t love it too. (Pleasing the parents and the kidlets accounts for the boffo box office.)

Director Brad Bird has taken Pixar to a new level, doing away with the standard Disney formula “kiddie story + some jokes for the adults = all-around hit” and making a bona fide action movie that just happens to be animated. (It’s not hard to imagine a live-action version that plays out in almost exactly the same way.) Will Pixar ever fuck up? After watching The Incredibles, I’m compelled to say, “Probably not.”

(I’m not sure anything Pixar has put out counts as a “fuck up,” but a handful of their attempts since have not found the same level of unanimous praise — take Cars, Brave, or Monsters University. Still, with WALL-E, Toy Story 3, Up, and Inside Out under their belt post-Incredibles, they clearly still have the magic touch most of the time. I did recently see this again, and while many stories since have definitely played in this same superhero sandbox, this remains one of the strongest entries in the genre.)8. KINSEY

Biopics are tailor-made for Oscar season. A famous actor playing a famous persona, often with some sort of accent or disability (see Ray or The Aviator), is bound to get an Oscar nomination. Kinsey, at least, never seems like it’s actively going for the gold; written and directed by Bill Condon, Kinsey is content to tell a fascinating story without being flashy or grandiose.

Kinsey, as portrayed by Liam Neeson, is certainly a worthy subject for a movie, and his ambition to explain sexuality in scientific terms is not only an interesting story, it’s an interesting character study. Why does Kinsey do this? How does it affect his life? More than telling us what happened, Kinsey centers around the man at the heart of it all, and doesn’t try and make light of the fact that his actions, though monumental, might also have been damaging to the people around him.

Neeson and Laura Linney (as Mrs. Kinsey) both turn in great performances, and Condon’s script is tidy and effective. Condon shows us everything we want to see and nothing more; it’s a well-crafted story about an interesting man studying something that fascinates and baffles us all.

(I remember almost nothing about this movie.)

7. BAD EDUCATION

Oh, Pedro Almodovar. What a task you’ve given me, trying to explain why Bad Education is one of the 10 best films of the year. How could I ever summarize what this movie is about, or why it is so compelling? Suffice to say that Bad Education is about real life versus how films depict real-life, and is also an homage to Alfred Hitchcock, and is also a disturbing tale of molestation and abuse in the Catholic church, and also stars Gabriel Garcia Bernal as a cross-dressing prostitute (and that’s just one of his personas). If that doesn’t at least make you curious, I don’t know what will.

Bad Education isn’t a perfectly executed movie — at least, not by traditional Hollywood standards — but that’s part of it’s charm. It forgoes some character development and obscures what, exactly, is going on in order to keep an aura of mystery and suspense. And that’s all right with me. There are excellent performances all around, but Almodovar’s energetic direction is the glue that coheres the choppy individual pieces into a fresh, satisfying whole. The film’s final moment is a chilling stroke of genius — and this is bound to be the creepiest use of “Moon River” ever put to the screen.

(This is probably the film that first set me aflame with Almodovar love, though I saw Talk To Her before this. I’ve only come to appreciate him more since, though this probably remains my favorite. Definitely my cup of dark, fucked up tea.)6. COLLATERAL

Collateral was one of few films this year to give me that geeky film student thrill of excitement at its very coolness. Sure, it’s basically just a standard Hollywood thriller at its core, but it’s such a damn good one! Michael Mann gives us a kinetic jolt in every electrifying scene, even when it’s just a seemingly innocent conversation between a cabbie and his fare. Jamie Foxx and Tom Cruise are pitch-perfect in their respective roles: the daydreaming cab driver and the merciless hitman who holds him captive. The action scenes are plenty good, but what makes the film is the smart dialogue by Stuart Beattie — between Foxx and Cruise, between Foxx and Jada Pinkett Smith, between Cruise and whoever he’s planning to kill. (It’s fun to see Cruise’s usual stalwart hero persona subverted, allowing him to come off as a bloodthirsty asshole for a change.)

You might expect a story centered around a taxi to take place in Manhattan, but this one plays like a nasty love letter to the City of Angels. Mann makes after-hours Los Angeles a very sinister place indeed, and the film packs some smart surprises without getting too caught up in plot twists and turns. A smart thriller (I’d rather call it an “action drama”) is a rare thing, but Collateral has it all — an intelligent plot, compelling characters, plus an exciting visual style.  equals one of the best movies of the year. Not bad, for a Tom Cruise action flick.

(Like The Bourne Supremacy, Collateral looked and felt a lot more “different” than it does now. Its style has been aped, though it is still one of the most respectable thrillers of the past dozen years. Alongside a win for Ray, this was definitely the Year of the Foxx, though it marked an interesting departure for Cruise, whose career is robust as ever in 2015, while Foxx has had only a small handful of memorable parts since. Long story short, this is still a great movie.)

5. BEFORE SUNSET

It was a big year for high-quality sequels, with Shrek 2, The Bourne Supremacy, and Spider-Man 2 repeating themselves all the way to the bank. But the year’s best sequel is Richard Linklater’s Before Sunset, reuniting Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy as strangers whose one-night stand in Paris nine years ago left the question “What if?” imprinted in the back of their minds. Hawke and Delpy co-wrote their own stories and dialogue — the performances are fresh and genuine, but also as precise as anything you’ll see elsewhere. (They’re not as improvised as they may seem.)

Best of all, the film unfolds in 80 minutes of real time, following these two characters on a walk through Paris with the sinking sun reminding them that, again, they only have a short time together. Somehow, Linklater pulls all this off flawlessly, and although the film is essentially one long conversation, it’s never boring for a single second. I sincerely hope that this is only the second entry in a series of inspired films.

(And I got my wish! This was actually the first of these films I caught, and it took me several more years to catch Before Sunrise. I still find this the best of the trio, but each film makes the others stronger and more layered. There’s basically no limit to the praise I could heap on Linklater, so I’ll just stop.)

4. CLOSER

It’s unfortunate that many critics were turned off by the morally questionable actions and frank sexual dialogue in Mike Nichols’ Closer (I guess USA Today‘s Mike Clark and Entertainment Weekly‘s Lisa Schwarzbaum never raise their voices or speak of cum). To each their own, but for my money I identify more with Closer‘s fierce, angry lovers than the mopey loser Paul Giamatti portrays in critical darling Sideways. (Come on, guys — everybody gets a little nasty when it comes to sex and love.) Likable or not, the characters in Closer are vividly brought to life by four outstanding performers who, in a just world, would each get an Oscar nomination. (Why Julia Roberts’ delicious foray into bitchville hasn’t received more praise is a mystery to me. She’s fantastic.)

Patrick Marber, who adapted his own stage play, has crafted playful, biting dialogue that puts most Hollywood movies to shame, and Nichols has brought the production to life in a way that rarely betrays the film’s theatrical roots. The movie’s two best scenes occur back-to-back — the supercharged confrontation between Roberts and Clive Owen as they admit their infidelities (it has to be some of the best acting ever), and Natalie Portman’s coy striptease that simultaneously shows us how much and how little she’s willing to reveal. Closer is great fun to watch — how can you go wrong with four incomparable actors spouting off acidic dialogue in a film directed by one of Hollywood’s greatest?

(It surprises me to find this at #4, given that I have the poster in my living room and count it amongst my favorite films. I’ve seen it more than any of my other Top 10 films from 2004. It’s just one of those films that seems like it was made for me — four of my favorite actors screaming at, crying about, and fucking each other, plus some super gorgeous cinematography. It’s not really in the wrong spot on this list, but as I’ve found in other years, sometimes the movies you rank the best don’t necessarily become your favorites.)

3. MARIA FULL OF GRACE

Maria is full of heroin, full of fetus, or full of shit in any given scene in this movie; she is rarely full of grace. But the movie is. Joshua Marston’s documentary-like tale of a young, knocked-up Colombian girl who becomes a drug mule to escape her humdrum home life is both subtle and searing, an exercise in restraint that doesn’t shy away from the real dilemmas girls like Maria face.

At the center of it all, Catalina Sandino Moreno turns in a fantastic first performance. She’s neither a sinner nor a saint but rather your average teenage girl, one who takes a huge gamble that could cost her her life (in several ways). Marston’s movie is smart enough to avoid drug-movie cliches and the sense that you are watching A Very Special Film. It’s all utterly real, unfolding in front of you, neither melodramatic nor underwritten. Maria Full of Grace never makes a misstep — it truly is a graceful picture.

(Still holds up, though we haven’t heard as much from Marston as I would have expected since. Moreno pops up here and there, though she also hasn’t had a role quite as juicy as this. Maybe it’s time for a sequel?)

2. ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND

There’s no doubt that Charlie Kaufman is one of the most original screenwriters out there, but until Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he hadn’t proven that he could write a story about real people. The ideas in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind are brilliant and intricate and unique and absurd, but they’re also rooted in the deepest of human emotions, and that’s what makes it work.

As Joel and Clementine, Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet give some of the most heartfelt performances of their careers. Like the gang from Closer, they’re real people — sometimes they’re cuddly, sometimes they’re assholes. They flirt, they fight, they fuck, they drink — they do all the things that real couples do. Since their relationship is essentially seen backwards, Kaufman shows us their uglier final fights and then slowly reveals the better times, the reasons they were together in the first place. By the end, we’re fighting for their memories to survive not because they’re perfect for each other, but because we know these are the moments that defined their lives, for better or worse.

Director Michel Gondry handles Kaufman’s script masterfully, the perfect visual accompaniment to such a kooky, bizarre screenplay. The supporting characters, too (portrayed by Elijah Wood, Kirsten Dunst, Tom Wilkinson, and Mark Ruffalo) round out the story. It’s a convoluted premise based around a very simple notion: that love is too painful to remember and too important to forget. Anyone who’s ever been in a relationship gone sour should relate. There are beautiful moments both visually and narratively — this is truly a landmark cinematic achievement.

(And has remained so ever since. This might very well be the most enduring film of 2004. If I had to pick one film from this year to preserve for a future civilization to remember us by, it’d probably be this.)

1. DOGVILLE

Lars von Trier’s Dogville is perhaps the year’s biggest anomaly; I moved it around everywhere between #2 and #11 before deciding that it belonged here. It’s difficult to place because it is such a challenging film to enjoy — in some ways, it’s hardly a film at all. What it is is a Dogma 95 study in bare bones moviemaking essentials: a compelling story and strong performances, that’s it. There’s nothing else in Dogville: no sets, no special effects, no locations save the stage itself. Even the titular dog is imaginary.

The ensemble cast is great, and Nicole Kidman proves exactly why she’s Hollywood’s hottest actress in a performance that would be unbearably sweet if not for the film’s tongue-in-cheek finale. It’s easy to see why one would claim that Dogville is a bad, or even terrible, film — with its purported anti-American sentiment, three-hour running time, and blatant disregard for the comforts we look for in today’s moviegoing experience, it’s a film that many (particularly those who are virgins to Von Trier’s always-unconventional storytelling) won’t understand or enjoy. For me, it was a groundbreaking cinematic achievement that went above and beyond its experimental mission statement. My favorite films are those that take risks, and Dogville does so in a major way. There’s simply no way to compare it to these other films. Dogville is in a league of its own, and for me is the year’s crowning cinematic achievement.

(I have soured on Von Trier since this film. I didn’t even bother to see Dogville’s Kidman-less “sequel” Manderlay. I try not to let his more recent efforts get in the way of what was so daring and brilliant about his first few films, which remain great — I just wish he’d move on and do something else for a change. I wrote more in my “#1 Club” revisitation of this film.)

*

BEST DIRECTOR

Michel Gondry — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Mike Nichols — Closer
Michael Mann — Collateral
Martin Scorsese — The Aviator
Bill Condon — Kinsey

Honorable Mention: Joshua Marston — Maria Full of Grace

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Charlie Kaufman — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke, and Julie Delpy — Before Sunset
Joshua Marston — Maria Full of Grace
Stuart Beattie—Collateral
Bill Condon—Kinsey

Honorable Mention: John Logan — The Aviator

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Patrick Marber — Closer
Paul Haggis — Million Dollar Baby
Jean-Pierre Jeunet — A Very Long Engagement
David Magee — Finding Neverland
Tina Fey — Mean Girls

Honorable Mention: Larry Gross — We Don’t Live Here Anymore

BEST ACTOR

Jamie Foxx — Ray
Leonardo DiCaprio — The Aviator
Liam Neeson — Kinsey
Gabriel Garcia Bernal — Bad Education
Don Cheadle — Hotel Rwanda

Honorable Mention: Ethan Hawke — Before Sunset, Jim Carrey — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

BEST ACTRESS

Catalina Sandino Moreno — Maria Full Of Grace
Hilary Swank — Million Dollar Baby
Julia Roberts — Closer
Julie Delpy — Before Sunset
Laura Dern — We Don’t Live Here Anymore

Honorable Mention: Nicole Kidman — Dogville; Kate Winslet — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Clive Owen — Closer
Morgan Freeman — Million Dollar Baby
Jude Law — Closer
Freddie Highmore — Finding Neverland
Peter Sarsgaard — Kinsey

Honorable Mention: Alan Alda — The Aviator

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Virginia Madsen—Sideways
Natalie Portman—Closer
Laura Linney—Kinsey
Cate Blanchett—The Aviator
Sophie Okonedo—Hotel Rwanda

Honorable Mention: Regina King — Ray

BEST ENSEMBLE CAST

Dogville
Closer
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
Mean Creek
Collateral

*

2004 FILM RANKINGS

1. Dogville
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. Maria Full of Grace
4. Closer
5. Before Sunset
6. Collateral
7. Bad Education
8. Kinsey
9. The Incredibles
10. The Aviator
11. The Bourne Supremacy
12. Mean Creek
13. Hotel Rwanda
14. Million Dollar Baby
15. A Very Long Engagement
16. Finding Neverland
17. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
18. Sideways
19. Mean Girls
20. Ray
21. Alfie
22. Shrek 2
23. Open Water
24. Garden State
25. Spider-Man 2
26. Saved!
27. Kill Bill Vol. 2
28. Born Into Brothels
29. Fahrenheit 9/11
30. We Don’t Live Here Anymore
31. I, Robot
32. I Heart Huckabee’s
33. In Good Company
34. Good-Bye, Lenin!
35. Little Black Book
36. The Passion of the Christ
37. The Phantom of the Opera
38. Coffee & Cigarettes
39. Hero
40. 13 Going on 30
41. The Terminal
42. Spanglish
43. Ocean’s Twelve
44. Meet the Fockers
45. Napoleon Dynamite
46. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
47. Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy
48. Alexander
49. Around the Bend
50. The Dreamers
51. Eurotrip
52. The Manchurian Candidate
53. Starsky & Hutch
54. Shark Tale
55. The Day After Tomorrow
56. Saw
57. Troy
58. The Village
59. The Stepford Wives
60. Tarnation
61. Van Helsing
62. The Forgotten
63. A Home at the End of the World
64. The Chronicles of Riddick
65. Catwoman

*

(A Then & Now perspective.)

The further back I go in time, the less secure I am in my Top Ten choices. That’s largely because I haven’t seen all these movies again since, and I have no idea how, say, House Of Sand And Fog measures up to The Last Samurai.

On the other hand, there are a few of these films I know very well, which always makes me feel they belong higher on the list. On some level, isn’t the movie I’ve watched the most times probably my favorite?

That’s what makes ranking films fun in the first place. There’s no need for a list that changes as you do — it wouldn’t tell us anything. Instead, we look back on where we were, where the movies were, and think about what’s changed in both cases. Sometimes, the path a filmmaker took after a given year makes me look upon his film less favorably. Other times, I see more of a director’s work and then appreciate a film they made more than when I first saw it. It goes without saying that creating a Top Ten list is not a perfect science.

Few of these films from 2003 are ones that I’ve revisited often or count amongst my favorites. But in 2003, I thought they were damn good, apparently — or at least better than everything else I saw — and so did many others. If I were to re-rank them now, I know exactly which one would be my favorite, and it’s not my #1 or #2 choice. But as much as it may pain me, I am keeping the list intact for historic accuracy. You’re welcome, Mystic River.

*

TOP TEN FILMS OF 2003  10. KILL BILL VOL. 1

Quentin Tarantino proves he’s still the king of violent, edgy, ain’t-it-cool postmodern entertainment. Over-the-top and in your face every step of the way, the film packs a mean punch despite its showiness. The B-movie plot is given grade-A Hollywood production value, making it a fun ride from start to finish. A blood-spattered action pic is the perfect forum to showcase Tarantino’s talents (and disguise his shortcomings).

(I probably appreciate Kill Bill now more than I did after viewing just this first half. I like but do not love most of Tarantino’s films, as there’s always a cool post-modern detachment that keeps me from fully investing in the story. That’s certainly true in Kill Bill. I found this one to be the better of the volumes by far, given that it has the most epic action sequences. The “two volume” gimmick might have worked better if they’d been rearranged a bit, but both the visuals and the storytelling work better for me in this first film.)

9. IN AMERICA

A genuinely heartfelt piece of filmmaking, made all the more poignant due to its close ties to the true story of writer/director Jim Sheridan. It’s increasingly rare to see a movie that so openly and straightforwardly deals with familial love, free of the usual contrivances. In America is sometimes melodramatic, but never manipulative. Solid performances all-around (especially from the kids) support a charming, funny script. A rare entry in a dying, oft-clichéd genre: the feel-good film.

(I haven’t seen this since and remember, mostly, the warm and loving tone of the film, as well as a surprisingly tense sequence set at some fairgrounds. Plus Samantha Morton’s short haircut. I would happily watch this again sometime.)

8. MONSTER

A complex character realized on screen with astonishing results. Charlize Theron goes beyond physical transformation to play serial killer Aileen Wurnos — she channels her. Theron doesn’t hold back, but unfortunately, the script does, at times — going too far for us to sympathize with her but not far enough to take us inside her head. Some aspects of her lesbian love affair with Christina Ricci’s Selby feel underexplored. Regardless, Aileen is always compelling to watch, even when we want to look away from her ugly misdeeds.

(A dozen years later, Theron’s performance is still just as riveting as ever. These “transformative” acting stunts don’t always age well, but Theron really went for it, and it shows. Her Oscar win came relatively early in her career, but all these years later I think she’s one of the most respectable leading ladies we’ve got. That’s pretty good, especially for someone who’s been starring primarily in big budget sci-fi/fantasy endeavors lately.)

7. MYSTIC RIVER

One of the best ensemble casts of the year comes together for the involving story about two crimes — one in the past, the other in the present, but both equally pervasive in the lives of the characters. The script is solid, in spite of a few awkward moments (typical of Eastwood), keeping up the suspense with some nifty twists and turns. But the top-notch performances are what really drive the story — it’s solid work all around from Tim Robbins, Marcia Gay Harden, Laura Linney, Thomas Guiry, and Sean Penn. If only Clint Eastwood hadn’t done the music.

(Though it displays several of Eastwood’s recurring sins as a director, I found this held up well when I watched it again a couple years ago. Eastwood’s last seven films have not been stellar, but he had a good run with this, Million Dollar Baby, and Letters From Iwo Jima.)

6. AMERICAN SPLENDOR

It’s not a film for everyone, but it is a film about everyone — the average joe who tirelessly survives the mundanity of everyday life. It mirrors the attitude of its protagonist — content to be imperfect, irregular, and unremarkable — and in doing so, becomes something remarkable after all: a love letter to weird people. Harvey Pekar’s life is drab, in essence, but colorfully and richly portrayed by the film. American Splendor goes beyond truth by placing the real Harvey Pekar in it, defying genre and formula for a strikingly original approach.

(American Splendor is one of those movies I kind of forget about, but I feel like I would probably appreciate even more now than I did as a film student. It was pretty much the first signal of Giamatti as a serious leading man for a certain kind of movie… usually an offbeat movie about someone grumpy. Plus, it has Hope Davis, from back when Hope Davis was in a lot of things. Maybe she still is, but I don’t see her enough.)

5. FINDING NEMO

It can be hard to review Pixar movies without overusing the word “delightful.” Arguably the most purely enjoyable film of the year, there’s nothing not to like: beautiful animation, a clever script, hilarious voice work (especially from Ellen DeGeneres), and a charming story. It is certainly the best major animated film in years, but it also transcends the genre to become not only something that an entire family can enjoy together, but something that even the most sophisticated adult viewer can admit to loving without shame.

(Finding Nemo intentionally brought back happy flashbacks to Disney’s The Little Mermaid, one of their very best. Animated films can do “under the sea” like no one else, and in a lot of ways this is the quintessential Pixar movie… though it certainly has competition. It’s surprising that the sequel has been such a long time coming. I watch this when I’m in the mood for nothing but unadulterated joy, though they do make room for some brief, melancholy echoes of Bambi early on.)

4. LOST IN TRANSLATION

A delightful and distinct film with two solid leads playing superbly-written characters. Sophia Coppola proves that she has a unique, fresh point of view in both her writing and direction, and Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson are not only completely convincing as foreigners in a strange land, they also look like they’re having a hell of a lot of fun. Watching the film leaves the viewer with an indefinite emotion that is neither happy nor sad, a tell-tale sign of a talented filmmaker. A pleasure to watch.

(Well, this takes us back to a time when neither Sofia Coppola nor Scarlett Johansson was a proven commodity. Coppola was known only for The Virgin Suicides, while Johansson was still a rising starlet with her biggest roles ahead of her. Coppola is a polarizing auteur — people tend to either love her or hate her, and this film achieves similar results. I tend to like what she does more often than I don’t, and I still appreciate this movie, even if it does somewhat overdo it on ScarJo staring vacantly out of windows.)

3. COLD MOUNTAIN

A wartime epic told the old-fashioned way, which is not easy to do these days. The love story between Ada (Nicole Kidman) and Inman (Jude Law) is well-crafted without inducing any eye-rolls. What makes it fresh, however, is not the romance, but the separate journey each character makes — he tries to make his way back home, she struggles to take ownership of hers. They must find themselves before they find each other, encountering violence, horror, and hardship galore along the way, as well as a robust supporting cast featuring Natalie Portman, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Kathy Baker, Renee Zellweger, and plenty more. It’s a well-crafted, well-executed film in every way, thanks to Anthony Minghella’s superb talents as writer/director.

(I have a special fondness for this movie, since I met Minghella around its release and he died a few years later. This was, unfortunately, his last major release… if you don’t count the little-seen Breaking And Entering, an odd little romance starring Jude Law and Juliette Binoche. Cold Mountain was largely snubbed come Oscar time, which I find particularly unfortunate in a year where Seabiscuit was nominated for Best Picture. I think it has held up remarkably well and is one of my favorite romantic epics. It would probably be my #1 movie from 2003 if I was doing it over again, though I don’t know many who like it as much as I do.)

2. 21 GRAMS

Though the jumbled plot is a unique, bold choice, the film is really a showcase for some of the most talented actors of our time. A phenomenal Sean Penn (who made another big splash in Mystic River this year) gives the film its heart (no pun intended), while the fearless Naomi Watts gives it some bite. The film is wrenching and emotionally exhausting, but the performances put us right there every minute, unable to look away.

(Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu got a bad rap after this for essentially making the same movie again and again, and I have a particular grudge against him for robbing Richard Linklater and Boyhood with his Oscar wins for Birdman, which I will never not think is ridiculously overrated. This is the kind of story that feels overdone now, but was reasonably fresh at the time, and a good showcase for its actors.)

1. LORD OF THE RINGS: RETURN OF THE KING

A fitting finish to a truly remarkable achievement in filmmaking. Peter Jackson has literally brought magic to the screen with a masterful gift for fantasy storytelling unseen since Spielberg’s heyday. A true epic, filled with heroism and honor, mercifully free of postmodern cynicism. Though it could not be made without today’s technology, the film itself is a timeless story that will be beloved for years to come.

(I basically never have the time required to rewatch these movies — that’s what I get for buying the Extended Editions on DVD. I really appreciated several of these performances and the genuinely moving story at the time. For whatever reason, my feelings about Peter Jackson are less pure these days, as I’ve had no interest in any of his Hobbit movies, which may have retroactively turned me off of Middle Earth completely. Aside for the laughably bloated ending to this installment, I will go ahead and stand behind this choice as my #1 film, even though it seems highly unlikely I’d place it here if I were evaluating these films today. I can’t really imagine finding this more powerful than Cold Mountain, but maybe that’s only because I’ve had time to get over what a massive technical achievement this trilogy was, in addition to some solid storytelling.)

BEST ACTOR

Sean Penn, 21 Grams
Paul Giamatti, American Splendor
Ben Kingsley, House Of Sand And Fog
Tim Robbins, Mystic River
Bill Murray, Lost In Translation

Honorable Mention: Johnny Depp, Pirates Of The Caribbean: The Curse Of The Black Pearl; Jude Law, Cold Mountain

BEST ACTRESS

Charlize Theron, Monster
Naomi Watts, 21 Grams
Scarlett Johansson, Lost In Translation
Hope Davis, American Splendor
Jennifer Connelly, House Of Sand And Fog

Honorable Mention: Keisha Castle-Hughes, Whale Rider; Nicole Kidman, Cold Mountain

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Dominic Monaghan, Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King
Tom Guiry, Mystic River
Judah Friedlander, American Splendor
Albert Finney, Big Fish
Billy Boyd, Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King

Honorable Mention: Djimon Hounsou, In America; Sean Astin, Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Shohreh Aghdashloo, House Of Sand And Fog
Renee Zellweger, Cold Mountain
Marcia Gay Harden, Mystic River
Samantha Morton, In America
Christina Ricci, Monster

Honorable Mention: Miranda Otto, Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King; Patricia Clarkson, The Station Agent

BEST ENSEMBLE CAST

Cold Mountain
Mystic River
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
21 Grams
American Splendor

BEST SCORE

Hans Zimmer, The Last Samurai
Gabriel Yared, Cold Mountain
Howard Shore, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Danny Elfman, Big Fish

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Cold Mountain
Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King
Big Fish
American Splendor

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Lost In Translation
In America
21 Grams
Finding Nemo

BEST DIRECTION

Peter Jackson, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Anthony Minghella, Cold Mountain
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, 21 Grams
Sofia Coppola, Lost in Translation
Edward Zwick, The Last Samurai

*

2004 MOVIE RANKINGS

1. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
2. 21 Grams
3. Cold Mountain
4. Lost in Translation
5. Finding Nemo
6. American Splendor
7. Mystic River
8. Monster
9. In America
10. Kill Bill—Vol. 1
11. The Station Agent
12. The Last Samurai
13. Big Fish
14. School of Rock
15. Master & Commander: The Far Side of the World
16. A Mighty Wind
17. Whale Rider
18. House of Sand and Fog
19. Calendar Girls
20. Shattered Glass
21. Down With Love
22. The Matrix Reloaded
23. Love Actually
24. Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines
25. Bend It Like Beckham
26. X2: X-Men United
27. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
28. Something’s Gotta Give
29. Sylvia
30. The Triplets of Belleville
31. How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days
32. The Matrix Revolutions
33. The Shape of Things
34. Elephant
35. Seabiscuit
36. The Hunted
37. Bruce Almighty
38. Hollywood Homicide
39. Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, & Blonde
40. The Hulk
41. Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle
42. Dreamcatcher
43. View From The Top

For anyone going through Looking withdrawals since HBO cancelled their low-rated gay series, the internet now has your methadone. Season Two of EastSiders just made its Vimeo debut.

Seeing as it takes place in Silver Lake (the Brooklyn of Los Angeles, for you outsiders), EastSiders is not quite but almost as hairy as the San Francisco-set Looking, which is quite possibly the single most important factor in depicting any hipster ‘hood. Unlike other hipster habitats like Brooklyn and Portland, Silver Lake has managed to maintain a relatively low profile without being savagely mocked by the media — possibly because Los Angeles is already so viciously ridiculed, what’s the point? Silver Lake is a great neighborhood, one I would visit more often if it wasn’t so terribly far. (It’s 7.6 miles from my apartment in West Hollywood, which in Los Angeles traffic takes about a day and a half.) I would wager that Silver Lake has managed to retain what is good about cool, hipsterish neighborhoods without quite succumbing to what makes them ripe for parody — but don’t take my word for it. Take a look for yourself in EastSiders.

For my money, at least, EastSiders centers on a more believable and relatable group of friends than Looking ever did, similarly navigating through sex and romance and questions of identity and finding oneself (but mostly sex and romance). And, as a bonus, the characters are endearing and easy to warm up to — yes, all of them! By which I mean, there’s no Augustin. (Okay, I’ll stop talking about Looking now.)

As in Season One, the focus of EastSiders’ second outing is on the strained relationship between exes Cal (played by writer, director, and series creator extraordinaire Kit Williamson) and Thom (Van Hansis), who, in the Season Two premiere “Weirder Than Normal,” find themselves in bed with a hunky third party, confronting questions about where their relationship is heading (or not heading). The other big development is the arrival of Cal’s flighty sister Hillary (Brianna Brown), who shares his fondness for alcohol in a memorable day-drinking sequence but has a host of other problems to contend with — or shrug off (such as being homeless).

“Sodom (And Gomorrah),” the season’s second episode, takes the gang to a party called Sodom hosted by the drag queen Gomorrah (Willam Belli) and Quincy (Stephan Guarino), where, despite the party’s racy moniker, they find more drama than debauchery. While Cal and Thom are still feeling things out, the episode’s centerpiece is Cal’s best friend Kathy (Constance Wu) coming to terms with the sharper edges of her heart, and her patient boyfriend Ian (John Halbach) trying to decide when enough is enough. The romantic ups and downs keep things interesting, but the episode’s real highlight is the glimpse at Los Angeles’ east side gay nightlife, bearded drag queen and all. Real-life L.A. eastsiders who are watching will feel right at home.

The third episode, “Sex Therapy,” is the steamiest as well as the most artistically ambitious, concerning Cal and Thom’s sexual misadventures as they discover that a couple seeking a third can be just as rigorous and awkward as traditional dating between just two guys. Things take a slightly surreal turn, but of course, that’s how things really feel sometimes when you’re caught up in such a situation. Meanwhile, Jeremy (Matthew McKelligon), who caused plenty of drama last season in flings with both Cal and Thom, is maintaining a lower profile as the semi-welcome houseguest of his sister Bri (Brea Grant), but his mooching can only go so far. He finds himself holding back from getting attached to the handsome older doctor who wants more than just a good time in the sack.

As the season unfolds, things get a little criss-crossed as surprising secret romances form between unlikely lovers. A major emerging theme is fidelity — both what that means when a relationship is opened up, as well as what happens when it goes on behind someone’s back and when the one you want won’t commit (possibly, because their heart already belongs to another).

In short, Season Two is off to a very promising start, and it’s still only just beginning to simmer…

*

Movies these days tend to be events. Even the smaller ones are often given the royal treatment, when it comes from a beloved, established filmmaker. Noam Baumbach is certainly one of those, yet he’s managed to avoid making capital-E Events out of his efforts, even when The Squid And The Whale had him hailed as one of the hottest auteurs of the new century.

In the past few years, Baumbach’s movies have been received as trifles instead. They come across as cinematic shrugs. “Maybe this works, and maybe it doesn’t!” each new film seems to say. In part, it might be because he’s been fairly prolific recently — 2015 saw him release both While We’re Young and Mistress America. Or maybe because it’s easy enough to compare his movies to those of Woody Allen — both in craft, content, and recent frequency of output.

Allen’s movies aren’t often that ambitious, either, and they come out so often, it’s easy to give the less inspired ones a pass — if one doesn’t quite ring our bell, there will soon be another. The same is true of Noah Baumbach. I know this sounds like a back-handed compliment, which is really not how I mean it at all. I don’t mean to say he’s not trying that hard, because making a movie of any kind or quality requires herculean effort, especially ones that are as enjoyable as While We’re Young and Frances Ha. It’s just that the effort doesn’t show. I hate to say that they feel “tossed off,” but they do, in a way. It’s just that they’re tossed off incredibly well that makes them feel so unique.

The latest is Mistress America, a spiritual sequel, of sorts, to 2013’s Frances Ha, which ended up unexpectedly sneaking onto my Top Ten list that year. I wasn’t sure I loved Frances Ha until I started remembering so many moments from it so fondly — like a spontaneous weekend trip to Paris that Frances accidentally sleeps through, or the way she merely squawks when a friend makes what might be a pass at her. Like its titular character, whose name is cut off on her mailbox the same way her life has fallen short of its full potential, it is a movie content with its quirks, effusive and engaging despite not necessarily amounting to much in the grand scheme of things. (Frances Halladay’s life looks rather puny when you stack her up against The Wolf Of Wall Street‘s Jordan Belfort in my #1 pick from 2013, just as Frances Ha is a much slighter movie. But in their own ways, they both have plenty to say about the power of money in New York.)

Frances Ha is deceptively simple, while at the same, revisiting a similar creative bohemia as the one found in Woody Allen’s Manhattan (and plenty of his other films) — writers, actors, and artists finding kinship in each other, spouting more ideas than credentials. Fittingly, Frances Ha updates Allen’s formula with a post-recession, millennial brokeness that is essential for any accurate account of present day twenty-something life in the big city. Yes, I know it sounds a lot like I’m re-reviewing Frances Ha, but you can’t examine Baumbach’s latest without at least a glance back at what he’s done with Gerwig previously. Mistress America is less of a throwback — its look and feel are more contemporary, and, by design, its vision of New York City has far less charm — but it’s also talking about “our generation” in a major way. Like Frances Ha, it is a half a throwback, while the other half is as immediate and relevant as a movie can be.

While Frances Halladay and Mistress America‘s Brooke Cardinas certainly have plenty in common — particularly that they’re both co-written and played to perfection by Greta Gerwig — the movies have a few key differences. For one, the wide-eyed protagonist of Mistress America is actually Tracy Fishko (Lola Kirke), a freshman at Barnard and aspiring writer who finds herself at odds with her classmates, gravitating instead toward her thirtyish stepsister-to-be. Like Frances, Brooke is passionate and charismatic, with big ideas and not so much follow-through or finesse, having a hard time paying the rent. (This isn’t Baumbach repeating himself — technically, almost any story set in New York City these days should revolve primarily around paying the rent.) But Brooke is also a bit of a self-involved monster, who seemingly only considers what other people have to say when it’s something she can poach for a tweet. (As Tracy eventually tells her, Brooke’s relationship with social media is awkward.) Brooke is a singular construction, more the butt of a joke than Frances Halladay was, and at least somewhat less sympathetic — but still, it’s hard not to root for her on some level.

I have a feeling I’ll have more to say about Mistress America‘s themes when I have a chance to watch it again, perhaps around the time my Top 10 list comes out? (Hint!) For now, I mustn’t forget to praise its more surface-level highlights, including an absolutely hilarious sequence set entirely in a Connecticut mansion that takes up most of the second half of this movie, but moves at such a clip it feels like the best (and possibly only) screwball comedy in decades.

Mistress America occasionally threatens to turn into one of those tired films where someone writes a story based on someone else, and that person gets mad at it — and that does happen, it’s just somehow fresh again as Baumbach and Gerwig present it. The movie zigs where other movies zag to keep us guessing. Baumbach’s While We’re Young was a perfectly enjoyable 2015 trifle, but it’s obvious where Mistress America is very subtle, while exploring some similar ideas. (Brooke is at least a decade younger than Ben Stiller and Naomi Watts’ characters in that movie, but she still manages to feel like a dinosaur when she’s hanging out with a bunch of college kids.) Baumbach has always managed to include vital female characters in his films, but this one is almost totally dominated by women, and in my opinion, it’s his best work. To be honest, I was too busy enjoying Mistress America‘s madcap pace to bother thinking about it much in the moment, but beneath the absurdity is a biting and relevant piece of work, one that will reward many multiple viewings. I can’t wait for it to so.For an even more contentious rivalry between a misguided older woman and an ingenue, consider The Diary Of A Teenage Girl, the controversial tale of a fifteen-year-old who begins a passionate affair with her mother’s boyfriend. (Ick!) Minnie (Bel Pawley) is a talented budding artist whose hormones go a-ragin’, as hormones tend to do at that age. However, most teenagers don’t have a single mother who regularly holds cocaine-fueled ragers and encourages the flaunting of pubescent T&A. (Or maybe they did in 1976, when this story takes place.) Minnie’s absentee mom Charlotte (Kristen Wiig) all but advocates for her daughter’s sexual experimentation, which unfortunately for Charlotte includes the 35-year-old Monroe (Alexander Skarsgard), simultaneously boning mother and daughter. (Ick!)

An affair between a teenager and a much older dude is slightly more taboo now than it was then (though equally illegal), but the film doesn’t make any particular judgments about the characters. While not exactly condoning the romance, writer/director Marielle Heller doesn’t demonize Monroe or depict him as a depraved pervert. He’s just a guy who gets involved with someone he obviously shouldn’t, for multiple reasons. Their love story is given as equal a consideration as any other — he’s not just a pervert, and she’s not just a victim. The two have a genuine bond and genuine feelings, however illegal those feelings may be. Minnie’s emotions aren’t dismissed just because she’s a teenage girl who only recently went through puberty.

Heller is remarkably competent as a first-time filmmaker, nailing the period details and guiding the cast’s uniformly strong performances. But it’s the subject matter itself that feels freshest. The Diary Of A Teenage Girl contains some fairly graphic sexuality and an even franker look at a young woman’s libido, without shying away from the more uncomfortable bits. By the end, Minnie will have engaged in some behavior we probably wouldn’t want our own daughters or sisters engaging in, but it’s hard to judge, given how honest Heller is in depicting the confusing tug-of-war between childhood and womanhood that hits every girl at one point or another.

Minnie makes choices many of us wouldn’t make, exploring her sexuality more freely than a lot of people would at that age (though, again, it is the 70s), but none of it is out of character. Heller knows we have a tendency to throw the book at a woman — particularly such a young woman — who shows such sexual agency. So do some of the characters — like one of Minnie’s teen peers (and sexual partners), who is intimidated by the mere fact that a teenage girl knows what she wants and expects sex to be mutually satisfying. (The nerve!) In this way, the film is practically daring us to judge it, or any of its characters. Ultimately, The Diary Of A Teenage Girl shows that growing up isn’t about being ashamed or dissuaded from sex, but merely learning how to navigate around fleeting desires to find what one truly wants.And finally, there’s Queen Of Earth, the new film by Alex Ross Perry that somewhat defies categorization by genre, because what happens in the storyline doesn’t necessarily match the murky mood it strikes. Queen Of Earth begins with a lengthy close-up of a very distraught Catherine (Elisabeth Moss) reacting to the very bad news that her boyfriend James (Kentucker Audley) has been seeing someone else and is leaving her. Catherine takes off for an indefinite stay at the family vacation home of her best friend Virginia (Katherine Waterston), kicking off a third notable arthouse flick this summer that relies heavily on conflict between its female leads.

Things are not exactly warm and fuzzy between Catherine and Virginia. Flashbacks reveal that the friendship was almost equally toxic a year ago, when Catherine and James visited this very lake house in somewhat happier times. (For Catherine.) Also of note: Catherine’s father, a famous artist, recently committed suicide, and Catherine, an artist herself, is having a hard time slipping out from underneath his shadow. Complicating matters is Virginia’s perpetual fling Rich (Patrick Fugit), who seems to enjoy subtly tormenting Catherine.

The less said about what truly happens in Queen Of Earth, the better, but suffice to say that the unsettling direction and agonizingly creepy score by Keegan DeWitt make everything feel entirely off-kilter, even when there’s nothing explicitly unnerving happening on screen. In ways, Queen Of Earth could be construed as a partial remake of Ingmar Bergman’s Persona, though it attacks some different ideas. The title refers to Catherine’s high opinion of herself — at least, before those twin tragedies befell her — which is pointed out by Virginia numerous times in the flashbacks. (We see less evidence of Catherine’s haughtiness than Virginia seems to.) Both  women come from wealthy and/or well-known families; Virginia does not ever work, it seems, and Catherine was a glorified assistant for her father. Their privilege may or may not have something to do with how things turn out.Queen Of Earth ultimately goes down a more traditional path than you might expect, given how unusual its aesthetic is. The color palette is reminiscent of a 70s film, and aspects like the film’s titles and poster are also throwbacks, while the tone itself is entirely in keeping with a post-modern indie. Individual haunting moments hang together better than the movie as a whole, and a nagging question or two may linger once it is over. Katherine Waterson is as captivating and elusive a figure as she was as Shasta in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice. In both films, we end up feeling like she’s hiding a lot of her character from us, and in Queen Of Earth, it might have helped to know her a little better, if only to explain some of her actions. But this is really Elisabeth Moss’ showcase, and she’s phenomenal from the first frame — even if the journey Catherine goes on is not a terribly original one for the plot of a psychological thriller. (The ending is fairly ambiguous, though at least it’s clear exactly what psychological state Catherine is in.)

If the story of Queen Of Earth lets us down somewhat, Perry’s direction keeps us guessing — unfolding largely in long takes, it’s the kind of film where watching someone listen tends to be more revealing than watching a person speak, and the flashbacks feel so immediate that it’s sometimes jarring to return to the present day story because we were so invested in what happened before. Without further examinations upon repeated viewings and a clearer grasp on what’s happened by the end, I cannot say with complete confidence that Queen Of Earth is about the narcissism of artists and rich people, but that’s the direction I’m leaning. A high-and-mighty, privileged woman like Catherine may get used to things turning out a certain way, and when they suddenly go wrong, the effect can be quite a wake-up call. This film is the sound of her thudding back down to Earth.

*

It seems exactly enough time has passed to allow for a film that prominently features New York City’s fallen World Trade Center without any explicit reference to September 11. Though Joseph Gordon-Levitt has top billing, The Walk really belongs to two much bigger stars — the Twin Towers themselves, brought back from the dead in all their steel majesty in Robert Zemeckis’ latest technological feat.

Though the shadow of 9/11 inevitably looms large, The Walk does an admirable job of leaving the past — or, in this case, the future — behind, telling a solid story that doesn’t really need to acknowledge the sad truth that we all already know anyway. Movies have had a shaky time confronting that horrific attack head on — Oliver Stone’s overwrought World Trade Center and the bewildering Best Picture nominee Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close being two notable examples, with United 93 as one masterful exception. It’s hard to believe that Zemeckis would have ended The Walk with the same loving, lingering shot of the towers had they not met such a cruel fate, but the film also acknowledges that we’ve mourned and grieved enough to do some celebrating of what was for a change.

The Walk is respectful of the towers’ legacy, but not overly cautious about it. Unlike its hero, it feels no need to tip-toe around the truth, and instead immerses us in a moment — 1974 — when the towers were just being built, met with mixed feelings by the people of New York City, but certainly a thing to behold. Zemeckis takes us back to to a time when we were not awed by what happened to them, but amazed by the towers themselves. He allows them to be a symbol of wonder and possibility, which is no small feat, given that we all know what came later. As a love letter to the enduring spirit of New York City in the wake of a tragedy, The Walk is a masterpiece.

As a movie? It’s alright.

Like the celebrated documentary Man On Wire, The Walk tells the story of Philippe Petit, who is, as his name suggest, very, very French. He is played by the very, very American Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who does an admirable job not only with a French accent, but with a certain… oh, how do you say?… je ne sais quoi. The casting of Gordon-Levitt tells you everything you need to know about Zemeckis’ approach — though he’s probably about as good as any American actor could be in the part, it’s impossible to see the character as anything but Joseph Gordon-Levitt “doing” French. The part doesn’t exactly leave room for a nuanced performance. It’s a stunt, and so is the whole movie.

Maybe that’s appropriate for a movie about one of the greatest stunts of all time, and maybe if you want the real story, you should watch the documentary. This version gives us schmaltz and spectacle in equal measure, a family-friendly sheen brushed with the broadest of strokes. Narrated from atop the Statue of Liberty, The Walk takes us back to Petit’s days as a street performer in Paris, shown first in black-and-white, followed by an unmotivated, unceremonious switch to full color. (It probably won’t bother anyone else, but I find it weird that the midpoint of what we see of Petit’s life is black-and-white, while his childhood and later years are in color.) Petit has a genuinely cute meet-cute with fellow street performer Annie (Charlotte Le Bon), who quickly becomes his girlfriend/cheerleader. (I wouldn’t say Annie is a terrific character, given that she’s the film’s sole femme, but Le Bon at least adds some welcome spunk to the typical “girlfriend” role — though it’s unfortunate that women are still limited to a few scenes of nagging, followed by lots of crying/smiling/clapping reaction shots, in such films.)It is clear early on that The Walk is not really interested in real human drama. Philippe’s rejection by his parents is shrugged off in a mini-scene and never mentioned again, and there’s no other indication of what might be driving him to perform an insane, illegal, death-defying stunt, except that he saw a picture in a magazine and just, you know, decided to. The film’s nimble, whimsical tone is able to pull this off for a while, until The Walk tries rather half-heartedly to become a heist film in its mid-section, collecting a team of perfectly adequate supporting characters like Jeff (Cesar Domboy), conveniently afraid of heights, and J.P. (James Badge Dale), conveniently fond of illegal activities. This section of the film reminded me of Argo, in the sense that it’s trying to ratchet up suspense about something I already know the outcome of — which certainly works in some films, but did not at all work for me in Argo, thanks to stale screenwriting. (The Academy clearly disagreed with me.) The Walk‘s screenplay tries even less than Argo‘s did — the heist business is shamelessly borrowed from other movies, and even Zemeckis doesn’t seem fully committed to it (though Alan Silvestri’s very heist-y score sure is). The only real suspense in this film is in the cable connected between the towers! (Yep. Went there. Deal with it.)

Which brings us to the walk section of The Walk, also known as the Reason You Paid Money For This. It more or less does the trick, without resorting to cheap tricks (such as, say, having Petit dangle from the wires, about to plummet to his death, which did not happen). Given how short it is on substance, would The Walk have been equally or more satisfying as a 30 or 40-minute experience, without the lengthy setup? Probably. Zemeckis’ most egregious error is the corny device of having Petit narrate the film from atop the Statue of Liberty. The location itself is a nice nod to that original gift to New York City from the French, which pays off in the film’s touching finale, which suggests that Petit’s walk may be what made the towers such an endearing landmark in the first place — another architectural gift from France, albeit a very indirect one.Perching Petit on the Statute of Liberty, talking directly to camera, immediately frames the movie as a fantasy, which is kind of an odd choice for a true story, but I could have forgiven it if the constant voice-over wasn’t so intrusive, interrupting moments that might be genuinely moving with dialogue from Petit telling me how genuinely moving this moment was. Petit narrates all kinds of moments for no reason, pointing out things we can already clearly see are happening. (This is the perfect movie for blind people. You won’t miss a thing.) Zemeckis co-wrote the script with Christopher Browne — this being Browne’s first feature credit on a screenplay — and writing has rarely been Zemeckis’ strong suit. The film’s best scenes are the ones where Petit the Narrator pipes down for a minute, but those are few and far between. The story is already as simple as can be, so the constant explaining grows maddening. Petit’s walk, in its first few blissful seconds, is chatter-free, but then Future Petit cuts in to tell us how he’s feeling, rather than just letting us feel it with him. Do we need to be told that crossing the Twin Towers on a wire 110 stories off the ground is super exhilarating? Apparently, we do. And for those of you thought Forrest Gump‘s CGI feather was bad? No joke — in The Walk, we get the whole bird.

Yes, The Walk is coated with a hefty helping of Hollywood cheese; by comparison, it makes Cast Away look like it was directed by Michael Haneke. More often than not, Zemeckis gets more excited about computer-generated wizardry than he does about storytelling. That pays off in the sense that this 3D is some of the best you’ll find (and I’m not generally a fan of 3D), and the CGI recreation of the Twin Towers is sometimes (but not always) astonishing. It’s impressive special effects work, though I couldn’t help but feel short-changed by the fact that it’s so much easier to cross the World Trade Center with computer graphics than it was on a steel cable for Philippe Petit. Now, I don’t expect them to actually string Joseph Gordon-Levitt 110 stories off the ground just for the sake of realistic stunt work, but when Philippe furiously refuses to wear a safety belt during the walk because it would be inauthentic, it rings a little false because this whole movie is a cheat.Yeah. I know, I know — all movies are, in a sense. But not all movies are about an act of high-wire athleticism like The Walk. And while a lot of what’s accomplished here looks reasonably impressive on a big screen in 3D — and will probably not hold up so well on smaller screens in 2D — there’s a disconnect between what the movie is and what it’s about, how Zemeckis asks us to applaud little CGI Joseph Gordon-Levitt for his high-stakes artistic “coup” when almost nothing we’re seeing has any real risk, art, or physicality to it. The real Gordon-Levitt was walking across the floor against a green screen. As good as the digital effects are, I never found them truly convincing, just as I was never convinced that Joseph Gordon-Levitt was actually French. You never for a moment forget that it’s all artifice, which is strange for a movie that purports to be all about artistic authenticity.

But I don’t think Robert Zemeckis cares about that, and much of his audience won’t, either. The Walk is really a ride, meant to provoke only the most surface-level responses. And that’s fine. I won’t say the film never pulled my heartstrings, though I was more moved by the Twin Towers than anything involving the character of Philippe Petit. Is there something wrong, when steel and concrete provoke more emotion than flesh and blood? Zemeckis doesn’t exploit 9/11 — this is a lovely tribute to the towers — but this film would be much more of a dud if it didn’t have the emotional weight of a real tragedy bolstering our emotions. Despite the artifice, it’s rather magical to see something that was so suddenly and ruthlessly taken away from us brought back by the movies. The Walk transports us to a time before tragedy, temporarily erasing the pain of the present and letting us relive a more innocent moment. (Okay, maybe 1974 wasn’t so innocent, but it is in this movie.)

The Twin Towers were already gone by the time I made it to New York. As much as I cringed at its chatterbox voice-over and paper-thin characterization, I can’t stay mad at The Walk, because it gave me one last chance to go up there and see what all the fuss was about. I’m glad I made the journey.*