adaptation

The Best Films of the Decade

Posted on Updated on

Yes my friends, I took a hiatus from blogging for a while. Between end of the semester grading and other professional commitment, as well as my family’s raucous Chrismakkuh celebrations, there simply was not any time. These are my excuses, anyway, for producing a “best of the decade” list weeks after you ceased having the desire to read such arbitrary lists. My bad, ya’ll.

Still there? Okay then, before you read, you should know a few things:

1. I spent much of the 2000s with my DVD/VHS player, dutifully watching non-contemporary films as part of my Film Studies degree. Consequently, I did not see nearly as many new releases as I would have liked.

2. I am not a big fan of blockbuster/franchise films, so I refuse to put any of The Lord of the Rings films on a “best of” list.

3. I favor films with a melancholy bent because I enjoy a good cry.

Now here, in no particular order, are my favorite films from the last 10 years:

Brokeback Mountain (2005, Ang Lee)

To me this is a near perfect film. Flawless cinematography (I am thinking of long shots of white sheep running up the side of a green slope), intelligent mise en scene (the slow death of Anne Hathaway’s sexuality is marked by her ever-blonder coif and increasingly talon-like nails) and a spare script. And then there’s the cast. Everyone in this film was wonderful, but the stand out was, of course, Heath Ledger, who plays Ennis as a man whose desires are so tamped down that he literally swallows his own words before uttering them. When Ennis embraces Jack’s denim shirt in the film’s final scene, it’s a moment that rips your heart apart. Timely, beautiful, perfect. Fuck Crash (2005, Paul Haggis). Yeah, I’m still bitter.

Amelie (2001, Jean-Pierre Jeunet)


Overly precious at times? Sure. But it’s irresistable in its preciousness. One of my favorite sequences occurs early in the film, when the narrator explains the little things in life that Amelie enjoys: “Plunging her hand deep into a sack of grain, cracking creme brulee with a teaspoon and skimming stones on the Canal St. Martin.” Here we are treated to a dizzying, high angle shot of the canal which sweeps over Amelie (Audrey Tautou) as she squats on a bridge to skip stones. Little moments like that take my breath away.

Memento (2000, Christopher Nolan)

Trapped in the head of Leonard (Guy Pearce), who lost his short-term memory after the traumatic murder of his wife, we experience life as he does — en medias res. We, like Leonard, find ourselves in the middle of situations — at one point Leonard finds himself running and doesn’t know if he’s being chased or the one doing the chasing — that only make sense when we move backwards and retrace our steps. Luckily, Leonard has a “system”–tattoos, notes, reminders placed around his abode. Yes, it’s a gimmicky concept for a film, but what always grabbed me about Memento is how it provides such a useful allegory for the mourning process. Leonard’s unceasing drive for revenge is a sublimation of his desire to work through the trauma of his wife’s death. At one point Leonard explains “I don’t even know how long she’s been gone…I lie here not knowing how long I’ve been alone. So how can I heal? How am I supposed to heal if I can’t feel time?” See, now I’m all shivery.

Once (2006, John Carney)

I’ll be totally honest: this movie could have been total crap and it would still be on this list as long as it retained its glorious, haunting soundtrack. But thankfully, Once isn’t crap. On the one hand it’s standard musical fare:  a heart-broken guy (Glen Hansard) and a lonely girl (Marketa Irglova) have a meet cute (he’s singing on the streets, she needs her vacuum cleaner fixed) and discover that they make beautiful music together. Really, really beautiful music. What is wonderful about Once though, is how seamlessly musical numbers are woven into the fabric of the diegesis. Every time the guy and the girl (they are never given proper names) open their mouths or tickle the ivories, it makes perfect narrative sense. And when they sing “Falling Slowly” in the middle of a piano store, their voices tentatively coming together for the first time, it’s absolutely magical. I’m talking full goosebumps. I should also add that, next to this year’s Up in the Air, Once contains one of the most realistic and refreshing conclusions to a love affair that I’ve seen in years.

Adaptation (2002, Spike Jonze)

Adaptation is a film about, well, adaptation: cinematic, biological, and social. Charlie Kauffman (Nicholas Cage) is asked to adapt Susan Orlean’s novel, The Orchid Thief, into a splashy screenplay and it is his struggles to do so that create the fascinating film we watch. A skewering of Hollywood,  a meditation on passion (and its absence), and, weirdly, an action adventure story, Adaptation is Kauffman’s most inventive script to date. And as a result of his performance in this film Nic Cage has an eternal free pass to make shit, which he continues to do with impunity.

Half Nelson (2006, Ryan Fleck)

In his best screen performance to date, Ryan Gosling plays Dan Dunne, an idealistic Brooklyn teacher trying to teach History to his primarily African American and Hispanic middle school students. Dan cares about teaching and about his students. Dan believes he can make a difference. Sound like a cliché yet? Oh right, there’s one more thing: Dan’s got a wicked crack addiction. When a favorite student, Drey (Shareeka Epps), catches him smoking crack in a school bathroom, the two form an unlikely alliance. Drey wants Dan to stop doing drugs and Dan wants Drey to stay out of the drug trade. Both ultimately let each other down. The film is equally effective as a parable about the frustrations and despair of the political Left and as a portrait of America’s failed  school systems.

Royal Tenenbaums (2001, Wes Anderson)

There are so many things to love about this movie: the deadpan narration by Alec Baldwin, the quirky cast, the soundtrack. But best of all is the mise en scene. Every shot in the film is crammed with details — Henry Sherman’s fastidious bow-ties (Danny Glover), Margot Tenenbaum’s (Gwyneth Paltrow) bookshelves crammed with slim plays,  and the endless rows of Richie’s (Luke Wilson) framed drawings, dutifully hung by his adoring mother (Angelica Houston). Yet despite it’s loopy surface, the film is filled with moments of deep human connection. One of my favorite scenes in the film is an exchange between Chas Tenenbaum (Ben Stiller) and his future step-father, Henry. Over the course of the film we learn that Chas reacts to his wife’s untimely death, not by mourning, but by keeping his two young sons on a short leash — expecting the next disaster to strike at any moment. Rather than break down, he takes control. On the day of his mother’s marriage to Henry, a union Chas has opposed through much of the film, Chas is confused to discover that Henry has an adult son named Walter (Al Thompson). Henry has to remind Chas that he has been married before and that his wife died. He is a widower. As Henry, Walter and Richie adjust their ties in the mirror, Chas approaches the group of men and begins to adjust his own tie as well. He then announces, as if the news were completely new, “You know, I’m a widower myself.” Henry pauses, turns towards Chas, and places his hand on his shoulder  “I know you are, Chas.” It’s a simple exchange, a throwaway moment, but it grabs me every time.

Old Boy (2003, Chan-wook Park)

If someone kidnapped you and kept you imprisoned in a bland apartment for 15 years with only a television for company and the same dumplings to eat day after day, you’d be pretty pissed off, right? Old Boy follows Oh Dae-Su (Choi Min-sik), businessman-turned-martial arts expert, as he seeks revenge for his years of imprisonment, and boy is he mad! The film is riddled with graphic violence but my favorite scene by far is the infamous “hammer scene” in which a wounded Dae-Su fights a horde of men with nothing but a hammer. Here the fighting is lugubrious and painful, men groan and creep and fall. And the best part is that Park films it in one long take like a slow, bloody waltz.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003, Quentin Tarantino)

I have always been critical of Tarantino’s reluctance to engage in the necessary task of editing his films. For me, Inglorious Basterds (2009) was long and flabby. Kill Bill: Vol. 1, on the other hand, felt just right to me (perhaps because Tarantino had to cleave the film into 2 volumes?). I suppose I’m a sucker for films in which women are given meaty, kick ass roles. How can you not love a film in which Uma Thurman informs the survivors of a massacre created by her own hands, “Those of you lucky enough to have your lives, take them with you. However, leave the limbs you’ve lost. They belong to me now.” Kick. Ass.

Grizzly Man (2005, Werner Herzog)

Using the 100 hours of footage that Timothy Treadwell, aka, the “Grizzly Man,” left behind after his brutal death, Herzog attempts to make sense of the man’s seemingly insane desire to live among wild bears. Was Treadwell crazy? Probably. But this is not the only message of the film. Treadwell was also a man filled with passion and love. The film could have been exploitative, but it’s not. It’s simply sad.

Up in the Air (2009, Jason Reitman)


Critics have been stumbling over each other to praise this movie, but for once the praise is deserved. As so many have already noted, Up in the Air is a timely portrait of today’s dire economic climate. As I sat in the darkened theater, listening to real Americans explain how losing their jobs was going to impact their lives and their families, I couldn’t help but think of all the people I know right now who have lost their jobs, have had their hours cut or who simply cannot find work. But then,oddly enough, the film also soars as a romantic comedy. The rapport between Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) and Alex (Vera Farmiga), two commitment-phobes addicted to air travel and impersonal hotel rooms, is honest and funny. And can we talk about George Clooney for a minute? Every look, every gesture, every half-smile was perfect. Take the scene at Ryan’s sister’s wedding reception. In a few dialogue-free shots we see Ryan’s walls come crashing down. We can actually see him falling in love (0r what he believes to be love) with Alex. And then there’s Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), who was truly wonderful as a smart, ambitious young woman who realizes, as most of us do around the age of 23, that the “grand plan” we had for ourselves in college doesn’t really translate in the real world. Finally, the film’s ending (I promise, no spoilers here) was the perfect balance between realism and idealism, despair and hope. It’s the kind of film that makes you appreciate your own very heavy backpack.

And the rest:

Lost in Translation (2003, Sofia Coppola)

Thank you Ms. Coppola, for not letting us hear what Bob (Bill Murray) says to Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson).

American Splendor (2003, Shari Springer Berman)

Paul Giamatti is a god.

District 9 (2009, Neil Blomkamp)

A science fiction social problem film turned explode-y action adventure film. I was literally on the edge of my seat throughout the entire film. Then I bawled like a baby. I’m not sure that’s ever happened before.

City of God (2002, Fernando Meirelles)

This film is noteworthy for its  stunning cinematography and kinetic editing alone, but it’s translation of the classic gangster formula to the slums of Rio de Janeiro is what makes this one of the stand out films of the decade.

There Will Be Blood (2007, Paul Thomas Anderson)

Dirty, greasy and bloody. If movies had an odor, There Will Be Blood would smell like sweaty men and rust. I drink your milkshake!

Children of Men (2006, Alfonso Cuaron)

OK, I’ll admit it: My husband and I watched this one with English sub-titles  because we found the British accents too difficult to understand. And we still loved it. So there.

Talk to Her (2002, Pedro Almodóvar)

You have to love a film containing a beautifully shot, black and white silent film, “The Shrinking Lover,” depicting a tiny man and an enormous vagina. Enough said.

Brick (2005, Rian Johnson)

Sure, you all fell in love with Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 500 Days of Summer (2009, Marc Webb).  But I fell in love with him here, spouting hard-boiled lines like “Throw one at me if you want, hash head. I’ve got all five senses and I slept last night, that puts me six up on the lot of you.”

Shaun of the Dead (2004, Edgar White)

Genre mixing at its finest.

Knocked Up (2007, Judd Apatow)

Debbie (Leslie Mann): I’m not gonna go to the end of the fucking line, who the fuck are you? I have just as much of a right to be here as any of these little skanky girls. What, am I not skanky enough for you, you want me to hike up my fucking skirt? What the fuck is your problem? I’m not going anywhere, you’re just some roided out freak with a fucking clipboard. And your stupid little fucking rope! You know what, you may have power now but you are not god. You’re a doorman, okay. You’re a doorman, doorman, doorman, doorman, doorman, so… Fuck You! You fucking fag with your fucking little faggy gloves.
Doorman (Craig Robinson): I know… you’re right. I’m so sorry, I fuckin’ hate this job. I don’t want to be the one to pass judgment, decide who gets in. Shit makes me sick to my stomach. I get the runs from the stress. It’s not cause you’re not hot, I would love to tap that ass. I would tear that ass up. I can’t let you in cause you’re old as fuck. For this club, you know, not for the earth.
Debbie: What?
Doorman: You old, she pregnant. Can’t have a bunch of old pregnant bitches running around. That’s crazy. I’m only allowed to let in five percent black people. He said that, that means if there’s 25 people here I get to let in one and a quarter black people. So I gotta hope there’s a black midget in the crowd.

Note: thank you to the poster on IMDB.com who transcribed this wonderful exchange from Knocked Up so I didn’t have to.

I would love to hear your thoughts on your favorite moments from these films or about any glaring omissions.

Advertisements

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE review

Posted on Updated on

Theatrical Poster
Theatrical Poster

My husband does not like to go out to the movies. But after viewing the trailer for Where the Wild Things Are a few weeks ago he changed his mind. “That,” he told me, “I would see in the theater. We can bring the 3-year-old.” Here my heart sank: I was ecstatic that my husband was willing to venture out of the house for a movie. But after looking into the film’s production history and reading early reviews, I knew that this film was  not for 3-year-olds.

Book cover

Seeing the film this past weekend only confirmed my hunch. It’s not that Spike Jonze’s vision of Maurice Sendak’s classic 1963 book is too violent for children (though there are scenes in which lives are threatened and limbs are removed). Rather, the problem is that the movie is simply not for children. Case in point: when I went to see the film a girl about the age of 7 or 8 was seated in front of me and she continually asked her parents questions like “Why was that funny? What happened?  Why did you guys take me to a 9:30 pm movie?” Okay, that last question was mine.

This child was frustrated and my guess is that the film will also frustrate audience members who were hoping to share the movie with their children, much as they shared the beloved book with them. But, I for one am completely satisfied with Jonze’s re-visioning of Sendak’s work. I’m glad it’s not for kids.

Sendak's Max starts the wild rumpus.
Sendak's Max starts the wild rumpus.

While Jonze took many liberties with his adaptation, the original story remains in tact. A little boy is punished for being a “wild thing!” and escapes to a world in which being a wild thing is celebrated. After indulging his id for a while the boy decides to return to the place  where “someone loved him best of all.”

Jonze's Max rumpusing with Carol.
Jonze's Max rumpusing with Carol.

Jonze’s film completely immerses us in the consciousness of a 9-year-old boy (Max Records):  we listen as he composes imaginative stories for his mother while idly poking at the pantyhose on her toes and we experience how a child’s emotions can change in an instant from pure joy to pure pain during a raucous snowball fight. And this is just in the first 15 minutes of the movie.

Max surveys his kingdom.
Max surveys his kingdom.

Once Max reaches the land of the wild things he  is made king of all wild things and his first post-election promise is to “keep out all the sadness.” How does he does he achieve this impossible task? By initiating a “wild rumpus” through the woods, drafting plans for an elaborate fort — a place “where only the things you want to happen, would happen” — and by promising the beasts that every night they will sleep in a “real pile” (that is, in a giant snoring heap of wild things). Of course, Max soon learns that it is impossible to keep all of the wild things happy all of the time. Carol (James Gandolfini) is perpetually jealous, Judith (Catherine O’Hara) gives him way too much lip, and KW (Lauren Ambrose) insists on making friends (or are they captives?) outside of her small social circle. In other words, Max learns that he much prefers being a child. Let the adults worry about keeping everyone happy. Amen, Max.

For me, the emotional high point of the film was when Max boarded his boat to go home (a trip that lasts “night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year”). The wild things gather on the shore to say good-bye, looking forlorn and abandoned, as children do when a loved one departs. KW approaches Max, putting her face against his, and tells him, “Please don’t go. I’ll eat you up, I love you so.” That was always my favorite line of the book because it could easily come out of the mouth of a child or a parent. I often tell my daughter, when she is being particularly lovable, that I could “eat her up.” For me this is a gesture of love, but for her this is a frightening concept: to be consumed by the love of another. “Don’t eat me up!” she cries and then I have to assure her that I am only joking. But I’m not, really. I could eat her up. Along the same lines, when my daughter was younger she would occasionally bite me when giving me a big hug. Even children understand that love is the overwhelming desire to consume the beloved.

A columnist for Entertainment Weekly, Christine Spines, took her 5-year-old and 15-year-old sons to see the film and wrote about her experiences. Apparently, the 5-year-old “loved” it. But I still see this as a movie for adults, not for kids. Kids don’t need to see Where the Wild Things Are because they are living Max’s life right now. Children know well what it is to run and jump with no purpose other than the joy of running of jumping. Children are capable of  imagining entire worlds for themselves in which they are the king. And children understand that adults have a responsibility to take care of them and to love them, even when they are acting most like a wild thing. Adults, on the other hand, need to be reminded of these departed joys. This movie filled me with both longing and happiness. This movie is not for my daughter. This movie is for me. Thanks Spike.