Wednesday, February 11, 2015

My Top Ten Films of 2014


Hello again! Long time no see! Due to a lot of other writing obligations, I've criminally neglected this poor blog and all of you lovely readers. So, I spent much of these first weeks of 2015 catching up on films I hadn't seen from last year. (Please keep in mind, I still haven't gotten to see all of the movies I want. But after one final edit, I am official leaving my list alone. Though I will hopefully be reviewing the other ones as I catch up on them.) And in an attempt to try and make my absence up to all of you beautiful people, I thought I would give you my Top 10 films of 2014! (Better late than never, right?)


10.) Obvious Child by Gillian Robespierre

Proof positive that the often maligned (and often deserving of it) rom-com genre can still surprise in 2014, Gillian Robespierre's Obvious Child is effortlessly charming and hilarious while allowing emotion and poignancy to arise naturally rather than having it's protagonist bob and weave through a course of convoluted obstacles. Building a romantic comedy around an abortion does not sound like an easy task. Building a romantic comedy around an abortion that actually happens sounds Herculean. But Robespierre and her lead Jenny Slate beautifully (and refreshingly) extract every ounce of emotion out of every situation without passing judgement. Rather, Robespierre allows burgeoning comedienne Donna Stern (Slate) to reveal her own flaws and insecurities through her interactions with friends and family, her audience and Max (Jack Lacy), a one-night stand that sets everything in motion. Wonderfully observed characters give way to even better dialogue ranging from poignant, retrospective, even philosophical musings to fart jokes and monologues about panty gunk, and make Obvious Child one of the funniest and most interesting comedies of the year.


9.) Whiplash by Damien Chazelle

Besides maybe The Babadook, Damien Chazelle's Whiplash is the scariest horror movie I saw in 2014. It tells the story of a young jazz drummer (Miles Teller) who, in his pursuit to be the next Buddy Rich, begins studying under the tutelage of a monster wearing a man's skin (J.K. Simmons). Whiplash is one of those few movies that I was actually nervous about seeing, all because of the clips I had watched of Simmons' ruthlessly ferocious Terence Fletcher. And he does not disappoint, delivering a performance of such white hot fury, that even when he's calm, you're shaking in fear and anticipation of what his next outburst will bring. Even the quietest scenes in Whiplash boil with an almost unbearable tension and when things finally explode, the results are visceral and powerful. But perhaps most frightening thing about the film is what it has to say about what it takes to attain greatness. The film's argument that you must be almost maniacally obsessed with your one true goal to achieve it, that you must be willing to make any sacrifice necessary, be willing to corrupt yourself, desensitize or even dehumanize yourself to achieve eminence, is incredibly unnerving. Perhaps even more so when the viewer realizes to what extent for them the film's message's is valid. 


8.) Birdman by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu

Birdman is unlike anything I've ever seen. A movie made to look as though it was done in one long continuous shot, it follows washed up superhero actor Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) who attempts to write, direct and star in a Broadway play based on the Raymond Carver short story "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." It's an intensely ambitious endeavor that costs him untold sums of money and exacerbates his various personal and professional relationships. Equally ambitious is Inarritu's vision for Birdman - a film that deals with mental illness, the corrupt, pandering Hollywood system, art criticism, the inner workings the theater and the interweaving and often indiscernible barrier between the real world and the world created on stage and on screen. While the particulars of how the film deals with criticism comes off as cartoony at best, all of the film's other positives make up for it and then some. With magical performances (Antonio Sanchez's drum score is a thing of beauty and Michael Keaton and Edward Norton are used to their utmost potential), magical realism and magical camera work by master cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, Birdman is one of the strangest, poignant and magnetic films of the year. 



7.) The Double by Richard Ayoade 

A film based on a novella by Dostoyevsky by way of George Orwell's 1984 and Terry Gilliam's Brazil? That is straight cultural catnip for me. The story, boiled down to its essence, is about a man (Jesse Eisenberg) who is driven to a complete psychological breakdown after his life is usurped by a doppleganger (also Jesse Eisenberg) who is better than he is at... Well, everything. I just love the feel of this movie. First, like Gilliam, Ayoade is a virtuoso of production design. Every single detail of the film down to the most insignificant detail is finely tuned. The Film also happens to be one of the coldest, achingly brutal, viscously cynical, deadpan tragicomedies ever made. But despite how cold it is, despite how much of a distance Ayoade keeps between himself and his characters, there's still that sense of Monty Python whimsy and absurdity that Terry Gilliam is famous for and a sense of genuine humanity brought about by Eisenberg and by Mia Wasikowska as his love interest Hannah. And despite the overwhelming feeling of detachment in the film, Ayoade manages a film that is surreptitiously powerful. Under all that cynicism and icy, often smothering stylization, there is a warm, beating core of palpable, truthful tragedy that allows The Double to emotionally resonate deeply with audiences. 


6.) Inherent Vice by Paul Thomas Anderson

Many people have been calling Paul Thomas Anderson's latest movie "Inherent Twice" and for good reason. Based on Thomas Pynchon's 2009 novel of the same name, the film tells the story of strung-out shaggy dog private investigator Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) who after being visited by his ex-girlfriend Shasta (Katherine Waterston), sets out to stop a plot involving Shasta's new lover and wealthy real-estate developer Mickey Wolfmann being abducted and put into an insane asylum by his wife and her lover. Confused? Well, the story's not really the point (and you may have to watch the film more than once as a result). Like many of the great detective movies, Inherent Vice uses its intricate, oftentimes convoluted procedural elements as a way of looking at the world behind them. And as a result, Inherent Vice is a deeply melancholic movie. What some people who call Inherent Vice PT Anderson's love letter to '70s cinema don't seem to realize is that it's set in 1970 for a much more important reason. 1970 represented the death of the dream of the '60s. America was still dealing with a Manson-induced terror and a world gone mad. Like Doc in the movie, the American people were caught up in a weird place - simultaneously looking back and looking forward. Is this movie ridiculous and hilarious? Yes. But it's also a gloomy and inspired look at one of the central points of American identity (with maybe a little film vs. digital thrown in there too.)


5.) Only Lovers Left Alive by Jim Jarmusch

Jim Jarmusch does a vampire hangout movie. While it may not quite be the best or my favorite film of 2014, it's hard to argue that Only Lovers Left Alive isn't the coolest movie of 2014. The film tells the story of two immortal vampires, Adam and Eve (played perfectly by the waif-like Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston), one in Tangiers and one in dilapidated mansion in the heart of a nearly abandoned section of Detroit, who have seen hundreds of years come and go and continue to struggle to find a place in a world that has progressively less and less space for them. A beautifully dreamy movie backed by an amazing soundtrack (performed and co-written by Jarmusch himself) with a surprisingly strong sense of humor, Only Lovers Left Alive is unlike any vampire movie ever made. But despite the bloodsucking, this is above all a Jarmusch film and no one has a longer to hang out and ruminate on life than a pair of vampires. What makes this film so brilliant are the scenes of these two ancient lovers simply musing over the tragedy of time and the billions of myopic humans throughout the world's history and weighing them against humankind's ability to produce a Bach or a Baudelaire, a William Burroughs or a Tom Waits. It's a rock and roll movie about creativity, love, and a spirit that binds the world and the history of the world together. And it's cool, man. Cool.


4.) Nightcrawler by Dan Gilroy

Nightcrawler has the best introduction to any character (and any film) this year. In the first 10-15 minutes we see Lou Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal), an intensely gaunt and creepy individual, viscously beat a security guard maybe to death and then attempt to apply for a job (after selling stolen building materials) using a perfectly polished sales pitch. That is exactly what Nightcrawler, Dan Gilroy's seedy, neon-soaked L.A. thriller, is for the rest of its runtime. Lou Bloom commits horrific act after shockingly sociopathic act and then delivers these speeches that feel like something one might learn in a business seminar. Nightcrawler is a blistering, tightly contained filmed. One whose cynical look at the state of modern journalism is jet-black and unflinching. And Gyllenhaal is the perfect conduit for Gilroy's caustic and often darkly hilarious indictments. Gyllenhaal is absolutely magnetic as he rides a razor-thin line, putting a dazzling spin on his moral-less actions as a freelance videographer selling grizzly crime scene footage to local news organizations while barely covering up his vomitous hatred for society as a whole. Without Gyllenhaal's performance, Nightcrawler simply wouldn't have worked. But with him, it becomes an uncompromising look at our own hypocrisy, pulling no punches on showing us exactly who is to blame for our current state. 


3.) Ida by Pawel Pawlikowski

Before Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska), a young nun in 196o Poland, is to say her official vows she is charged by her Mother Superior to learn more about her past. But little do she and Mother Superior know that not only is she actually Jewish (not too many Jewish nuns for those keeping track), Anna is not even Anna. She's Ida and her past is deeply entangled in her country's dark history during World War II. What follows is a stunningly beautiful spiritual noir shot in the 1:33-1 box of classics gone by, a restrained and austere investigation of faith, responsibility and the faults of a brutal time in the world's history. As much about Ida's revelations as it is about the revelations of her cynical and worldly aunt and only living relative Wanda (Agata Kulesza) - who together go on a journey to discover more information on Ida's parents who were murdered during the Nazi occupation - what's so brilliant about Ida is the way Pawel Pawlikowski's controlled direction invites the audience to contemplate on the characters' stories in the larger context of a country which, in a time of mass chaos, had unbelievably despicable atrocities perpetrated upon it, but also perpetrated them itself. Ida is a deceptively wide-reaching film, a story seemingly simple on the surface but with the power to devastate an audience. What makes it truly remarkable, however, is that it forces you to come to terms with the story's sorrow on your own.  


2.) The Grand Budapest Hotel by Wes Anderson

The Grand Budapest Hotel is by far the most Wes Anderson-y movie that Wes Anderson has ever made. It may also be the best film he's ever made (sorry Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums for me). For one, it takes everything Anderson has been known for - his gimmicks, his gags, his style, inclinations and motifs - and pushes them to their furthest extent yet. But it's not all of the different aspect ratios or flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks, everything packed in so tight and so full that it's nearly impossible to catch them all in one go, that makes the film great. It's that Anderson has finally clicked everything into place so that it works like an intricate, handcrafted grandfather clockwork, almost unbelievable in its elegance, making keeping up with all the twists and turns utterly delightful and consistently rewarding. It also gives the most deeply personal look into Anderson himself than any of his films to date have. As the Grand Budapest's long-time concierge M. Gustave, Ralph Fiennes brings to life an individual who puts forth a tenacious air of civility and propriety in the face of increasingly violent and sinister events. Like M. Gustave, Wes Anderson has a nostalgia for a time in which he never lived. And he uses The Grand Budapest Hotel and all its rigor and structure to silence his critics. Is there a veneer here that covers up a crassness underneath? Yes, of course. But Anderson has always had a deep understanding for that underlying crassness (look at all the pompous and pretentious characters in his previous films). Here he manages to finally delve deeply into it to reveal something extremely poignant about the nature of dignity, arguing that the veneer may just be what we need to ultimately turn us towards a better place. 


1.) Under the Skin by Jonathan Glazer

I love art films to put it bluntly. I love films that put their emphasis on the abstract and thematic presentations of their ideas rather than doing so through through a traditional narrative. But my love isn't automatic. To be a "good" art film in my eyes there has to be coherence in the statements that are being made through the thematic material. A "good" art film also has to be able to connect with the audience on a visceral level even if the audience can't exactly comprehend why that connection (and their reaction to it) is happening. Jonathan Glazer's Under the Skin does this spectacularly. Based loosely on Michel Faber's 2000 novel, the film has its fair share of provocative imagery. Floors that turn into deep pools of black liquid, full frontal nudity across the gender spectrum, a potential sexual liaison with a man afflicted with neurofibromatosis, entire bodies popping into nothingness and a mind-penetrating score, kept me completely transfixed while the coherency held. By the end, Under the Skin becomes a complete picture of the evolution and ultimately the devastation of femininity through the eyes of an extraterrestrial being. And in the process, it manages to create one of the most strangely beautiful and heartbreaking stories I've ever seen. It is not only an incredible feat to accomplish this using such abstraction, it is an inspiration. This is an artist's dream. And it is breathtaking. 

The Rest

And that's my list! Like I said, I haven't seen all the films I want to see yet and I wasn't able to include all of the films I may have liked to have included on my list. But I want to shout some of them out anyway. So, here are some odds and ends for the year 2014:

My Other 2014 Favorites (In No Particular Order): The Babadook, Blue Ruin, BoyhoodCaptain America: The Winter Soldier, Dawn of the Planet of the ApesEdge of Tomorrow, Frank, Guardians of the Galaxy, Jodorowsky's DuneJohn Wick, The Lego Movie, Life ItselfLocke, The Missing Picture, Night Moves, The Raid 2: BerandalSelmaSnowpiercer, Starred Up

Top Ten Films of 2014 That I Want to See and Will Soon: Calvary, Dear White People, A Field in England, Force MajeureA Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, LeviathanListen Up Philip, Mr. Turner, Two Days, One Night, Winter Sleep

Eight Movies That Can Suck a Fat One: The Amazing Spider-Man 2, GodzillaHornsA Million Ways to Die in the West, Sin City: A Dame to Kill For, Teenage Mutant Ninja TurtlesTransformers: Age of Extinction, Tusk