With the year winding down, it's time to delve into the obligatory wrap-up of bests and worsts reminiscences. Sure, there are quite a few films left on the docket (most notably the new Fincher joint), but with the release dates so obscenely clustered around the holiday break, I doubt I will be afforded the time to give them the serious consideration and multiple theatrical viewings (the power of my cinematic OCD compels me) I deem necessary to properly pontificate. So, with the understanding that I will likely enjoy, but not have my life changed by Tintin, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, MI4: Ghost Protocol and Sherlock Holmes: The Return of The Slow Motion Explosion, let us begin analyzing 2011. The year I will best remember for my death, the boiling over of my disgust with Internet hatorade and my rebirth into cinematic ecstasy.This year started off slower than any in recent memory. I didn't see anything in theaters until the Farrely's utterly forgettable Hall Pass in late February. At the risk of losing intrepid readers right out of the gate, I must admit the first movie to blow me away and my runner up for film of the year was Zach Snyder's audacious paean to auteur excess, Sucker Punch. His first wholly original project, Sucker Punch is a dynamic visual feast that has the audacity to focus on challenging themes that are rarely, if ever, addressed in modern fantasy action fare. Namely misogyny and the male gaze, and the derisive snorts issued forth from the provincial online detractors was as predictable as it was pointless. No one seemingly had a damn thing to say about how thematically bold it was or the truly next level film making going on. It was an inside hit job from the start. A retribution sacrifice carried out by disgruntled pedants and frustrated nerds for some imagined blasphemy committed on Watchmen perhaps? Whatever the reason for the hate it engendered or the box office catastrophe it became, when reactions are that volatile, some sort of magick is happening. Usually the kind that takes a few decades removal from to contemplate and comprehend. It's the H2 or Scott Pilgrim of the last year and like those other initially misunderstood gems, I eagerly await the time when people inevitably come around to its transgressive charms.
The summer doldrums were made all the more dismal by a slew of drooling junk food features aimed at grown men who wished they were still 11 years old. Thor and Fast Five were rousing enough with the latter a masculine, imbecilic blast and the former a histrionic delight. Captain America and Green Lantern were where it all fell apart for me. Paint by numbers drivel and excruciatingly unnecessary to boot. Sarsgaard's deliriously unhinged turn in Lantern was a personal favorite performance of the year for me admittedly, but both pictures were so hastily assembled and callously tossed out, it left a sour taste in my mouth toward superhero cinema. A distaste I hope The Dark Knight Rises will ameliorate this coming July. Transformers was its usual grating garbage. Overlong, ugly and every other negative adjective that's come to be associated with the execrable series. Harry Potter 7.5 was mightily impressive, especially considering how much I've loathed and felt distanced by the entire series. It was a film so well made and so blissfully expensive, I felt invested in the characters finally, primarily due to seeing them in action for 2 straight hours as opposed to droning on about nonsense that means nothing to a geriatric muggle such as myself.
On the Asian tip, I thoroughly enjoyed Miike's orgiastic tribute to feudal masculinity with 13 Assassins and was mesmerized by Jee-Woon Kim's serial killer tone poem I Saw The Devil. For underground fare, I fell head over heels in love with Hobo With A Shotgun and gave Christopher Smiths Black Death the grim appreciation it deserved. Troll Hunter was an absolute blast and along with Apollo 18, was a found footage type film I actually enjoyed for once. Kevin Smith's Red State was the best thing he's ever done by a damn sight and I implore him to keep directing if that's where his material is heading. I loved The Thing prequel and can't wait to pair it with Carpenter's forbear for a somber, icky, snowbound double feature. Immortals was gorgeous stupidity and Rise of the Planet of the Apes a welcome surprise that inspired me to revisit the original series, which happens to be no slouch itself.
The two worst film going experiences I had were the monotonous tedium of Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark and the masturbatory monstrosity Super-8. Both films were colossal let downs considering the pedigree behind them and how great the trailers looked. DBAOTD was simply a total misfire. All good intentions and zero invention. More of the same dark whimsy we've come to expect from DelToro, but entirely lacking in heart or purpose. I seriously considered walking out. Super-8 however, is the more egregious pile of manure betwixt the 2. It starts off well enough, but descends into a senseless, slavish recreation of Spielbergian tropes without bothering to make a lick of narrative sense. Featuring a bunch of kids ranging from unlikable to uninteresting and a monster that appears intermittently to disjointedly do only that which the ever changing whim of whatever particular scene demands of it, Super-8 is everything wrong with the creatively bankrupt, backward looking and nostalgia mythologizing generation of geeks holding the reins of blockbuster Hollywood today. Liking Suburban 80's Spielberg swill isn't enough J.J. You need earned character moments and a definitive thematic arc to cut the treacle and justify your leaden, lens flare laden CGI monument to riding your bike around the neighborhood. Grow up.
Insidious was terrifying. There's just no better way to put it. An anxiety inducing chill machine for the ages. James Wan and Leigh Whannell have my eternal devotion having now crafted 4 films I greatly enjoy, 3 of which I would describe as being touched by brilliance. Easily the best horror film of the year. Attack The Block was a real treat as well and a forceful calling card for its creator, Joe Cornish.
Hugo blindsided me as the original trailers had me expecting a waning master cashing in on 3-D with farcical kiddie garbage. What I got instead was Scorsese the master craftsman, stepping up his game exponentially by pushing past his comfort zone and giving us something new. Everything you've read about this ode to the majesty of the moving image is true. Don't miss it in theaters in 3-D, I guarantee you will regret it.
What more can be said about Drive? It is easily my favorite film of the year. I saw it 4 times theatrically and, despite the pervasive national punchline it became due to all the various spin off art it inspired and outraged reactions it caused, I still maintained my swooning, pubescent adoration of its effortless guile and poetic enchantment. It made me feel like I was 17 years old again and seeing Natural Born Killers, Se7en, The Crow and Pulp Fiction for the first time. Total cinematic intoxication. This film had such a profound effect on me, I chased its sense memory by revisiting Michael Mann films for the rest of the year after Drive left theaters, staying aloft on related fumes while awaiting the bluray. A movie like Drive is why I cherish the art form. A perfect synthesis of setting, sound, performance, writing and shot composition. It effortlessly enthralls and is one of many reasons and reminders I can glean from this year that I'm eternally grateful to still be around, enjoying my life and my passions with loved ones and fellow travellers. Here's looking forward to 2012.
0 comments:
Post a Comment