Best of 2011

So another year closes, prompting a look at the films that comprised 2011. Aside from the bevy of wonderful pictures that come during the winter months, I enjoy the added delight of crowning the achievements of the films that made up the preceding seasons. My top 10 of 2011, carved out of over 23 films seen theatrically, left a favorable impression of 2011. It was certainly not better than years past, but overall a fun year in cinema.

A few notes on my list first: no Pixar, no Spielberg, and no Clooney. All people or entities I usually rave about, but because of a sequel to a movie that nobody wanted, a film about a horse, and a barely passable directorial effort, my list remains devoid of these fellows/entities. You'll find a solid mix of film from action, reflexive, and even a couple rom-coms, a mix of intellectually challenging material and just some, plainly put, entertaining stuff. Just for kicks, I looked up the average of the box office grosses for the films and was thoroughly surprised that it was above 40 million collectively. Though some newer releases drag the average down, it's fairly telling of the aforementioned mix. So in the words of The Joker from The Dark Knight: "And here we go."

10. Friends with Benefits

A sense of irony girds the structure of this mid-Summer romcom, which is always a entertaining element to a film. Friends with Benefits understands its entry into the well entried lexicon of romantic comedies that choose to show how young, sexually attractive men and women can't be friends, but distracts the viewer long enough for the ride with the well-deserved digs at the films we all love. The result of which can either be infuriating or delightful depending on your sense of humor. A film so brazen in its derisiveness of the very films it resembles deserves a little credit for entertainment. Less interesting talent would make this film unbearable so thank the stars for Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis for their undeniable chemistry for making this film a cool little flick. By the end, it devolves into the kitschy yet sweet emotions it pokes fun at. I suppose the ending proves that we're all suckers for the Hollywood ending even though we will ridicule it anyway.

9. Crazy, Stupid, Love

Crazy, Stupid, Love, in some respects, is a perfec tbalance to Friend With Benefits: a movie so earnest and optimistic that it comes complete with the sage 13-year old's unwavering belief in the power of love and unrelenting allegiance to the idea of a soulmate. At the risk of oozing being saccharine and schmaultzy, CSL owns up to its willingness to believe in the idea of a soulmate, but argues the position with the real and vibrant characters needed to convince the audience. Take for instance Kevin Bacon's character as the mister of Julianne Moore's adulterous wife character. He's not a mustache-twirling idiot with no sense of remorse or heart; instead, he's a genuine guy looking for love like all the other characters in the film. A certain elegance with the characters is crucial to make a film like this play as realistically as it does which can only be attributed to the strength of the direction. One particular scene pushes the limits of suspension of belief, but that misstep aside, Crazy, Stupid, Love is considerably charming, filled with charming people with the naivete that love can do anything.

8. Moneyball

Moneyball is part biopic, part sports movie. The story of Billy Beane, a baseball general manager who concocted a revolutionary way of appraising talent in the old-minded early 2000 MLB league. Brad Pitt's performance is receiving quite a bit of love during the winter months for his confident, yet leery Billy Beane. As most film's tend to be, this performance may garner attention for the simple fact Pitt's on the bill, but his performance digs deep and delivers; his Beane reminds us of the sobering shortcomings that can eat away at you over time. Pitt brings the turmoil and heartache you'd expect, but hides it behind the charisma that made Billy Beane a man that could lead and make tough decisions. Jonah Hill is a delightful surprise, elevating material that could have easily been a one-note bit part. The dream team of Aaron Sorkin, Bennett Miller, and Brad Pitt do what's expected and a little bit more with this slightly depressing, but heartfelt biopic.

7. Young Adult

Reitman continues his obsession with characters who don't desire the change, but realizes the world kinda wants them to. In this film about a young adult writer who returns to her hometown, Theron gets a little trashy and a lot more c-wordy, if you catch my drift. I was lucky enough to see a Q&A with Reitman where he revealed his most common direction suggestions of differeing levels of c-wordiness. Jason Reitman's greatest talent is his ability to sell really dastardly characters as blood and life figures that you root for against your conscience. Theron brings the sense of entitlement often bequeathed to the popular kids and shows how much of a loser one can be for actually putting stock into it. The scenes are uneasy and discomforting, daring the audience to laugh, agree, or be genuinely offended by her actions. And the penultimate scene catapults this film into my countdown providing a steadfast reminder that deep down, no one wants to change.

6. Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol is one of those perfectly cinematic grand action flicks that glides along and doesn't get bogged down too much with certain things like backstory and exposition. While the truly great action films gives a nice mix of both, a film like Ghost Protocol pushes with such breakneck speed from set-piece to set-piece that you instantly just keep up. It's difficult to quantify entertainment value, but MP:GH has it. There's cool gadgets that defy logic, globetrotting from the Burj Khalifa to Mumbai, and villain's who are smart and ruthless enough to actually do what they plan to without grandstanding. Brad Bird was a perfect choice to continue the franchise, bringing the whimsy and the spy-like intrigue of The Incredibles with the live-action grandeur of a series like Mission Impossible. The world is cartoony and slick where anything is possible, but somehow he sells the blood and the sweat of the characters, showing them that the stakes are high enough. And let us all collectively thank Paula Patton for wearing the hell out of that dress.

5. Contagion

A film filled with so many heavy-weight stars tends to blind the audience, forteitting suspension of disbelief for the recognition of its talent. Contagion does an impressive job of shirking this commonality in a aberrant and defiant way. Directed by  Steven Soderbergh, Contagion is a what-if thriller about a deadly virus that spreads across the globe. Soderbergh's careful interlaying of the stories makes this thriller so engrossing that the audience forgets the stars up there aren't really people. Soderbergh achieves this in a variety of ways, not the least of which through the careful "uglying" up of everyone on the screen. Also, in an early scene (the defiant and aberrant one I spoke of earlier). Somebody famous dies; and they don't just die; they really die. Such is the world that Soderbergh realizes with cold, distant hues and slender focus: anybody can get "got." He turns a lens to our most disturbing human habits, and reveals some ugly observations.

4. Shame

Sex. No drugs or rock and roll. Just sex, treated like a drug. Shame isn't erotic, sexy, or titillating. It's grim, disturbing and pitiable, all qualities that Fassbender and McQueen evoke from the material in a starkly realize and saddening way. This character study about a sex addict whose sister comes to visit and throws his own secrecies about his life utterly out of whack, focuses a majority of the time on the lonesomeness of addiction. No one coddles you for your problem because you don't let them know. And letting them know would be admitting that you have one. Fassbender's Brandon has the composure and even-handedness needed to fool everyone around him into believing his facade of sexual normalcy. And McQueen's direction divorces sex from emotion, but doesn't stop there. His camera never judges. It only emotes the intensity of his addiction and the weight that it casts on him. Combined, they create a film that you feel a little dirty going into, but a really depressed coming out of.

3. Hugo

Scorsese's first forray into the realm of children's pictures approaches carries a reflexive approach to the art of film. The film, adapted from Brian Selznick's The Invention of Hugo Cabaret, follows , at least in part, George Melies who was a revered filmmaker. He and is credited with bringing the imagination and dreamlike qualities to cinema that, until his involvement, weren't thought of. So Scorsese's use of 3-D appropriately fleshes the material, experimenting with the possibilities of film. The true mark of a director lies in his ability to make the personal universal; In Hugo, Scorsese lenses the innocence of youth, the wonder, and the adventure and fits them into a clunky, regimented train station. As any film admirer would imagine, Scorsese's use of 3-D never devolves into kitsch, but engenders a feeling of youth within the audience. In a masterful use of the camera, one scene shows an imposing Sasha Baron Cohen's surly security cop inching closer and closer to your face forcing you to sink further and further in your seat as if chastised by his positioning alone. Hugo stands as a labor of love and a first application to the as yet barely tapped potential of 3-D.

2. Midnight in Paris

Woody Allen gets a bad reputation for making the same story over and over again. I respectfully disagree, preferring that he features similar people with circumstances that change. I believe his oeuvre features characters he knows, especially himself, and simply tries to tinker with them in his playbox of life. Midnight in Paris examines an untapped realm of nostalgia and romanticism in his history and provides the best entry into his filmography since Match Point. To say nothing of the location, the film is gorgeous: cinematographer Darius Khondji captures beautiful hues of amber, showing the warmth of summer and giving an elegaig atmosphere for the characters. The visual style combines with Allen's romantic protagonist to capture a literary paradise that any one would want to bask in. But it's not enough for a beautiful portrait, the painting has to show something not easily noticed by simply looking at it. Allen's work offers a rumination on the foolishness of nostalgia and the humanity in our pursuits of fool's errands.

1. The Tree of Life

Films can't offer answers, but they should offer questions. Meditations on the enormous questions of our existence can never be explained at 2 hours a time, nor should it. But what Tree of life provides is a thoughtful engagement of the questions it poses, simultaneously spanning across millions of years and curtailing it self into minute moments. Why does God take our loved ones? A grieving brother remembers his early life and seeks the answers to one of life's confounding predicaments. How do you make sense of a world where the good endure hardship and the bad are rewarded? Malick's film probes deeply into these matters and engages the medium in a truly arresting work. Glorious steadicam shots and natural light combine with an elliptical editing style to craft a challenging and provoking film that sticks with you long after the first viewing. This penetrating work creates an uncommon experience within the theater, and is a unique drama of epic proportions.

Thinking about Think Like a Man

I tend to have a similar reaction to films featuring large black casts. My eyes and heart well with glee as I see the attached talent. I discover a bit more about the behind-the-camera talent and become even more enthused upon seeing the the dearth of color balancing the often unven distribution of power within in Hollywood. But then comes the moment where I see the trailer. Then comes the "yeeesh." You can guess how I felt about the Think Like a Man trailer.

The self-help book Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man debuted a couple years ago to rapturous reception. Women were starving for Steve Harvey's inside trek into the mind of men. (Ladies, we're not that complicated; all we want is a woman to bring us a sandwich. There, you didn't have to pay $15.00 on Amazon for that!). The book slayed on the New York Times bestseller list, and, as these things go, producers snatched up the chance to repackage it and serve to the masses. Rainforest Films, responsible for Stomp the Yard, and the Trois series takes up the task of realizing Steve Harvey's self-help book targeting women who just can't catch a man. The film also utilizes the talents of Tim Story, a fairly bankable comedic director who lensed Barbershop, Taxi, and Fantastic Four. The evidence of their combined efforts to bring this vision to life lies in part below.

Unfortunately, my ambivalence continues. Firstly, let me highlight the concept which is more intriguing in its approach than in itself. A property like a self-help book screams for a paint-by-numbers look at the book's bullet points. To its credit, TLM has an intriguing frame of the source material. These characters exist in a world not unlike the audience, where Steve Harvey releases a Holy Grail for women who are tired of putting up with the "men of this generation." The play with reality could possibly ground the material into a reality closer to the audience's, while using the film's perspective play to preserve the book's inflaming position as a self-help guide to net a man. This frame allows the book to inhabit a position within the universe that the audience and the film's characters can agree or disagree with. It invites a dialogue with the material, an effective tool to draw the audience in. Potentially, the film, rather than indoctrinating Steve Harvey's point of view on relationships, could serve as a jumping-off point for the conversation Jane and Joe have at the dinner after the movie. Or Tyree and Tisha. Or Juan and Daniela. Movies are meant to be talked about and overanalyzed. So the film gets points for that

At face value, Think Like a Man appears like an affirmative action rehash of movies like He's Just Not That Into You, Valentine's Day, and the upcoming New Year's Eve.  It's a battle of the sexes comedy featuring Kevin Hart who jesters his way in and out of the lives of the central characters. Lots of stars who aren't really expected to do much except fall in love, nail a couple of slickly timed  lines, and look sexy while doing it. I'd imagine that's how a script like this was pitched for distribution. In today's distribution scope, having an all black cast doesn't really move the butts into seats. But it does have the New York Times bestselling crest which shows a bit of financial validation ala He's Just Not That Into You. Given how comically stale those  multi-plotted, big casted holiday movies are I can't expect much out of it. But then again, I'm only one butt, and there are plenty of other butts that like those types of intellectually shallow, and wit deficient exercises.

There is only one fair way to gauge a film; one must judge it on what it sets out to do. With that in mind, I believe TLM is genuinely selling what it's advertising, He's Just Not That Into You, just a shade darker. Hopefully, the film can engage some intriguing dialogue on the self-help book's practicality in real life, and not just serve as an empty hour and a half of cheeky battle of the sex antics. I have more faith in it being the latter.

A rant on modern theater-going

Going to the movies is, and forever will be a delight for me. The feeling of immersing oneself in another world — another person’s mind — for an hour and a half hooked me long before I even considered film as a career path. Unfortunately, the pristine days of watching movies at the cinema have given way to the tide of Torrential downloads, Amazonian digital streams, and that red bastard Netflix, who’ve conspired to destroy my precious and delicate experience. While there is value in living in a time where many varied movies are available through DVD, streaming online, and pay cable, they pale in comparison to that feeling of sinking in a seat at the cinema and taking in an enormous projection of a film with appropriately sized scope. These varied options, under the veil of convenience, have culled to transform the theater experience into the abysmal state it inhabits now. Watching a movie just ain’t what it used to be.

I should prompt you with the occasion that inspired this rant. This past weekend, I watched, or rather, tried to watch a film that had been out for awhile entitled Like Crazy. As the lights came down, and trailers began to roll, a moment which never ceases to delight me, I noticed a persistent flicker on the image. I gave it some time, thinking perhaps it was a bug momentarily gumming up the works. Nope, it kept flickering. Looking around, I searched for someone with that look of “This is bullshit. I’m going to get the manager.” Unfortunately, it was just me who sported the look of disdain. 

I politely excused myself and went searching for someone, anyone to preserve my sacred experience with the film. I had to go damn near to the front ticket booth to let someone know, who assured me the problem would be addressed immediately. Returning to my spot, I gave the man in the projection booth a little time to work his magic.

So I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more.

The film began, and I couldn’t surrender myself because I was too distracted by the flickering. I looked around and everyone else seemed unfettered by the poor presentation. What is it? Everyone has $14.25 to blow on a broken projector?  So I gave up, cut my losses and, most importantly, got a refund.
Unfortunately, this typifies a prevalent state within the US theater experience. Most of today’s theaters suffer from a supreme lack of funds, lack of good material, and dip in interest. I saw Like Crazy at the ArcLight which, at one point, was the Cadillac of watching movies. A couple of years ago, I ventured to the ArcLight in Hollywood and was blown away by the atmosphere, the snazzy decorum, of teeny boppers and old families, and the elegant presentation right down to the attendant who introduced the film to the audience. Although having an attendant introduce a film is unnecessary, it shows a real panache and departure from the less enthusiastic theater chains.

Regrettably, the ArcLight has fallen off, giving a remarkable impression of a jogger limping to the finish line.  The busied lobby of yesterday transformed into a moderately populated chasm of teenyboppers, probably less interested in watching a movie than theater hopping. The attendants cycled through the introduction as if we were one in the line of many introductions to be done, breezing apathetically with little regard to diction or comprehension. Standards have dropped, and I fear that the convenience model of digital streaming has given us the state of movie watching we inhabit now.

What happened to my beloved night at the movies, an event I’ve clung to since my early teenage years. Nowadays, people are more interested in returning texts, rudely yelling at the characters on screen, or worse: discussing with their neighbors.

I love a movie that inspires dialogue, but that dialogue should be after the movie and with the appropriate people. That appropriate person is not me ... or anyone else for that matter.

These are the basics people. No talking. No cell phones. Sit your ass down and get lost. I yearn for that lost cinematic paradise.

Admittedly, there is some irony in discouraging communication in such a communal experience as an outing to the movies. Surrendering oneself to the collection of images requires a concentration and a connection with the material. Witnessing the images in a film almost resembles a type of shared dreaming state, where the viewer lies completely apart from the person next to them and within the film. Yet still, the viewer is captivated in this experience of the film while others are so this position is complicated. Yet still more reason to engage with the film, in a manner, engaging further with your neighbor through shared emotion rather than speech.

That’s so cool. Why would anyone want to mess with that? Why wouldn’t anyone want to preserve that?

Some institutions will be around forever, cinema being one of them; I hope we can preserve what we can of this incredible experience, something so complex and delicate and all at the same time shared amongst an auditorium of silent watchers. Now certainly, if streaming and digital exhibition has taught us anything, it’s the experience of watching a film is malleable. But however malleable the experience, some elements cannot be translated like the feeling of letting a film envelope you, your eyes darting from spot to spot during an intense action sequence, or that stunned feeling after watching an intense story where you no one in the packed theater can move an inch. That’s the cinema that I know and love. I hope we can hold onto it a little longer.