(In case you missed it, I was counting down my list of the most overrated movies of the year, but I felt that this pick merited its own post. You can read the rest of the acclaimed movies that left me a bit underwhelmed here.)
So, I was lucky enough to see The Big Short
before its general release, and before any reviews had been written.
When the movie ended, I didn't think it was the worst film I'd ever
seen, but I thought, "Well, this movie is going to be completely
forgotten by the end of the year." But then it started getting really
good reviews. And then it started appearing on top ten lists. And then
it started getting nominated for tons of awards, and is seen as an Oscar
contender for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, among other
categories. As a result, to quote Jacobim Mugatu, I feel like I'm taking crazy
pills here.
How fitting to quote a Will Ferrell character when talking about a film directed by Adam McKay.
I don't get it. I just don't get it. How is this film
considered one of the best of the year? How is this film even
considered good when it is such a mess? The response to this movie has
exacerbated my own distaste for it to a considerable degree from when I
first saw it (at least I can admit that I'm biased) to the point that I
now really hate the movie. It is my Interstellar of this year: the movie that a lot of people seem to love, and whose appeal I simply don't comprehend.
One thing I will say is that The Big Short has a very talented cast, and they do good work here. Everyone is committed to their role. But I feel like the script didn't really allow them to be fully utilized. When actors audition for a role, they receive what's called a breakdown, which gives a rudimentary overview of what the character is like so they can prepare for the audition without reading the entire script. I mention this because I feel like everything about the performances in this film was decided from reading the breakdown. These characters never felt fully formed to me, they simply felt like character archetypes. The asocial oddball genius? That sums up Christian Bale. The grumpy asshole with a sensitive core? Steve Carell! The handsome asshole frat boy? Ryan Gosling's got you covered. Their performances are certainly consistent, but it's because they do the same thing in every scene. There's no variation. These characters never grow, and they never change. They find certain mannerisms, but these performances never extend beyond this surface level of characterization.
I will also admit that another thing The Big Short
has going for it is a very important subject matter. The financial
housing crisis in the early 2000's is crucial to know about, and a topic
that many people--myself included--don't understand or think about as
much as we probably should. And I believe that The Big Short had
the best intentions, and earnestly wanted to make a movie that was
accessible to a mass audience. Director Adam McKay, who co-wrote the
script with Charles Randolph, probably thought, "Hey, you know what
would be nuts? If we made a comedy about the housing crisis. That would
be AMAZING if we pulled it off." Well, they didn't pull it off. McKay
couldn't direct a comedy about the housing crisis because it's not
possible to make an intelligent movie on this subject that is also
funny. The two simply don't go together. Look, I love dark comedies, but
the heavier subject matter and the comedy need to go hand in hand. One
of my favorite films of all time, In Bruges, takes a topic you
wouldn't think was comedic (two hit men who are in hiding after one of
them accidentally kills an innocent child) and manages to tell a story
that is both profound and hilarious. Often, the funniest moments are the
darkest, with the brilliant Martin McDonagh (who wrote and directed it)
understanding that the comedy and the incongruous subject matter
actually enhance each other. In contrast, The Big Short feels
disjointed. I didn't find it funny, but the moments that were clearly
meant to be funny felt very tacked on, and felt completely different
from the moments that actually talked about the housing crisis. The film
never understands what tone its trying to set--is it smart, or stupid?
Is it funny, or serious? Don't get me wrong, a movie can be both, but
McKay is never able to find a consistent tone or weave the many threads
of the movie together into a cohesive narrative.
What
I'm trying to say is that the script sucks. It hides behind the gravitas
of its subject matter, and again, I appreciate what it was trying to
accomplish. But this is bad writing. It's lazy, it's sloppy, it's so
scattered and all over the place. This script is so overwrought--it's
trying so hard to educate you and to entertain you that it fails in both
regards. It's the cinematic equivalent of that one teacher everyone has
in high school who curses in class so that his students think he's cool
(this teacher is always a dude).
"Hey
guys. I'm your new English teacher, Mr. Kleinberg. But you can call me
Mr. K. Now, how about for our first class, we...watch a movie! Awesome,
right?! High five!"
The humor here really didn't land for me. Much like present-day episodes of Family Guy,
it seemed to mistake randomness for wit. When characters break the
fourth wall to make a quip, that's not funny, it's pointless and never
explained. Why do some characters talk to us and some don't--what does
this device add to the story? In a signature recurring bit, the film
will cutaway to a celebrity cameo (Margot Robbie, Anthony Bourdain, and
then Selena Gomez and her friend the uncomfortable-looking economist)
who explains a complex economic idea to you. Some people apparently
loved these bit, I just found them annoying. It's as if they couldn't
figure out how to work these ideas into the script, so they just were
like, "Fuck it, we'll put Margot Robbie in a bathtub and nobody will
care that we're just going to tell you this in the most lazy way
possible."
"Not to mention super-empowering to women! Hey, could you guess that we don't pass the Bechdel test?"
I
think the accolades for this script comes down to what I call the
Badfellas effect. See, there are lots of really well-written movies like
Goodfellas (or Glengarry Glen Ross, or most things
written by Aaron Sorkin) where the dialogue is really sharp and has this
great rhythm to it so it has to be delivered really quickly. Those are
great scripts. But because of how influential movies like Goodfellas
are, there have since been numerous copycats, which think that if the
actors read their dialogue really quickly, that must make it good! You
don't need smart snappy dialogue, as long as you focus on the snappy
part. And the problem is that people fall for it. Just because this
movie wants to be Goodfellas, that doesn't make it Goodfellas.
Let me ask all the fans of this movie--is there a single line that you
remember from this film? Can you mention a single scene you thought was
genuinely well-written? I found everything about this script's demeanor obnoxious. I thought its attempts at humor were amateur at best, and flat out insulting at worst. It detracted from what should have been a really strong and meaningful story. The film was smug and in your face, and lost any semblance of endearment that it could have garnered, which made me lost interest in it fairly quickly.
But here's the worst part of The Big Short for me: there were no stakes. Stakes are the root of all drama, but The Big Short wasn't able to derive actual stakes out of one of the most devastating economic crises of all time. The Big Short
wants you to be outraged at how the corporate world and the big banks
are taking advantage of us, but it completely ignores the people who
were most taken advantage of. The protagonists of the movie are a) not
all that likable and b) incredibly unsympathetic. For those who don't
know, the main characters of this movie are fictional representations
(some of them use the real peoples' names and some don't) of the few
stock traders who were able to predict the financial crisis. To be
clear, they didn't try to stop the financial crisis from happening (not
that they would have been able to, mind you), but instead they bet money
on it. In other words, when the crisis occurred, they all made lots of
money because they were the only ones who predicted this had happened.
Meaning
that for every single major character in this film, the financial
collapse that this movie rightfully claims was a horrible thing is not
only not surprising, but also not that bad of a thing. So even though
we're told over and over again how devastating this was, we're not
actually shown evidence, at least not evidence derived from the
characters the movie is actually about. The movie itself points out this
discrepancy. After making several trades, two characters played by Finn
Wittrock and John Magaro (I don't remember their names) are celebrating
when their mentor, played by Brad Pitt, chastises them. Pitt, who is a
producer on this film, has once again cast himself in a crucial role as a
person without flaws, as he did in 12 Years a Slave. He plays
Ben, who the movie would have us believe is the best at math and also
the only person on earth with a conscience. Anyway, Ben points out that
they're celebrating the downfall of the American economy, and even
though they'll be very rich, this isn't something to celebrate. They
look sad. And that's the main problem with The Big Short--the
consequences of this economic disaster is only demonstrated by these
characters looking sad. The one who looks saddest is Steve Carell. Every
time a banker says something evil, Steve Carell looks sad or gets
angry. And he's sad and angry a lot. He's meant to be the moral
barometer of this film. Maybe that's why he's the only character who's
given any semblance of backstory. Apparently, his brother committed
suicide. It's mentioned in two whole scenes and feels very shoe-horned
in. Steve Carell is very sad about it.
There was another movie about the housing crisis that came out this year called 99 Homes.
This film doesn't attempt to explain why the housing crisis happened,
it chooses to focus on the low-income families whose lives were
destroyed by it. There are several scenes of people being evicted from
their homes which are emotionally devastating. The movie shows good
people, real people, who are trying their best in a bad situation, and
stuck with nowhere to go. They end up losing their homes, losing their
lives, and losing their dignity, and are desperately looking for a way
to a better life, even though there isn't one. 99 Homes doesn't
feature any wall street bankers, but it does have Rick Carver (Michael
Shannon), one of the best villains of the year. Rick is a real estate
mogul who has found a way to rig the system to his advantage and
encourages Dennis Nash (Andrew Garfield), a hardworking man who Rick
just evicted from his home, to work for him. Dennis is conflicted
because Rick embodies everything Dennis thinks is wrong with the world.
And yet, Rick's offering the only viable solution Dennis sees for a
better life. By focusing on its characters, 99 Homes is an
artistic embodiment of what the crisis really is about. It doesn't go
into statistics, but watching it, you truly understand the situation on
an emotional level. Dennis represents how good things can be corrupted.
Rick represents greed and ruthlessness better than any character I've
seen since Gordon Gekko. Where The Big Short tells you what happened, 99 Homes actually shows you why it's important.
But hey, in The Big Short, Steve Carell looks sad. And that's apparently Oscar-worthy.
And he's not even THAT sad.
The Big Short succeeds perfectly fine in terms of educating its audience. I think they could have done a better job explaining things, but if that it's purpose then it succeeded in that regard at the very least. Although I'm sure anyone who ignored the movie and just read the book it was based on would be far more informed. However, as a piece of art--which is why film is--it simply doesn't work. Subject matter does not a movie make. The Big Short feels absolutely phoned in, and that simply isn't good enough.
Over the past few days, I've been discussing some of the best movies of 2015 as I counted down my picks for the 30 best films of the year, and handed out my own awards recognizing the best of the year. But, among the movies I mentioned, there were lots of titles that some might feel were noticeably absent. These movies aren't my picks for the worst films of the year by any means (well, some are) but these are movies that I see on a lot of top ten lists, or which have received a hefty amount of critical acclaim, which I very distinctly chose not to include in my discussion.
That's right, it's time for me to complain about movies that everybody else loves! Everyone loves when I do that, right?!RIGHT?!These films range from the "it was good but not great" to the "it was disappointing" to "oh man it sucked." To be clear, these aren't the worst films of the year, but they're the ones that I feel have received acclaim far more than is warranted. Most of these aren't as bad as, say, Jupiter Ascending, but everyone acknowledges that that movie was a mess (albeit a truly spectacular one). So, let's dive in and see what I think were some of the more overrated offerings of the year.
The Revenant
Let's start with a big one: Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's The Revenant. This was easily one of the movies this year I was most excited for. I'm a big fan of all of Inarritu's films, especially last year's Oscar-winning Birdman. Plus, the early footage looked promising, and the all-star cast, led by Leonardo DiCaprio, made it look like there was no way this movie could be bad. And then I saw it and was decidedly underwhelmed.
I will say it's an impressive film--one that I appreciate more than I enjoy. The Revenant overwhelmingly succeeds as a piece of technical filmmaking, and I would be totally fine with Inarritu receiving a Best Director nomination for his work. Plus, it does have some moments. The already notorious scene where Hugh Glass (DiCaprio) is attacked by a bear is brilliantly done. But overall, the movie was incredibly unsatisfying to me. What I've always loved about Inarritu is his ability to tell a story through focus on character. His films rarely have a singular, identifiable plot, and yet remain focused and cohesive towards a final end goal. The Revenant felt aimless. There were many beautiful scenes depicting the brutality of nature, but they did nothing to actually advance the film. Even DiCaprio's performance fell into this trap--while he is certainly committed, the role is not really written to show off his acting chops. When his character is cold, he shivers. When his character is in pain, he winces. There's not really much interpretation going on here. In fact, I felt the entirety of the talented cast was rather wasted, with the exception of Tom Hardy as John Fitzgerald, the only actor who had a chance to truly form a character. It's no coincidence that the best scene in the film involves Hardy. In the scene, Fitzgerald wants to murder the injured Glass, as he feels that keeping him alive will endanger their whole group. He tells Glass that if he wants to be put out of his misery, all he has to do is blink in agreement to show he's okay with this. When Glass doesn't blink, Fitzgerald continues to say this, until it becomes a perverse staring contest where Glass' life is on the line. It's a thrilling scene, but a sad reminder of the level of tension this lackluster film might have achieved if Inarritu had simply had a better editor.
45 Years
While not a huge commercial success, 45 Years has been one of the biggest critical darlings of the year, with heaps of praise being showered on stars Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay. I thought the movie was fine--both Rampling and Courtenay made my list of the best performances of the year--but I couldn't figure out why people were SO excited about this movie. Rampling and Courtenay play Kate and Geoff Mercer, who are about to celebrate their 45 anniversary with a large party. However, just a few days before their big celebration, Geoff finds out that the body a former lover of his (from before he met Kate) who had gone missing had just been found. It's a fascinating premise--a love triangle where one side of the triangle is deceased--and has some nice moments, but ultimately I found it unsatisfying. The film is far more focused on Kate--it's her story--but she's never allowed to change throughout the course of the movie. Rampling is a wonderful presence to watch but, as written, Kate is always at the same level of calm. And while at first, her suspicion and edge hiding underneath her calmer exterior is interesting, it becomes repetitive after a while. Kate never breaks, she never gets a release. That anger is never allowed to burst through, and her story never feels resolved. Many have praised the film's ambiguous ending, but I hated it. I agree it was ambiguous, but I disagree that it was an ending. This movie doesn't end, it simply stops. And unfortunately, this lack of an ending undermines the entire film--no moments are strong enough to justify having sat through it. I wanted to like 45 Years, but it really felt a bit pointless to me. 45 Years is nothingness disguising itself as subtlety. Inside Out
Okay, before I go any further, I should say: I LIKED THIS MOVIE PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! Really, I did like Inside Out. After I saw it, I told people how much I liked it and encouraged others to see it. I think it has a phenomenal message, and I think it's amazing how the film is being used by child psychologists to help their patients express their feelings. It's a good movie...but I do think it has some problems and is one of Pixar's weaker efforts (which isn't anything to be ashamed of considering some of the films Pixar has produced).
Pixar's best films are truly masterpieces--I wanted Up to pull an upset and win Best Picture, and felt Toy Story 3 absolutely merited its spot as a Best Picture nominee Plus I think that Wall-E should have been a Best Picture nominee, and probably would have been had there been ten nominees instead of five that year. So, I'm not biased against it because it's a kids movie, or because it's animated. But when people say Inside Out should be a Best Picture nominee, I'm left scratching my head. Many called it a return to form for Pixar, citing how original the premise is. And, yes, the idea is great. But original ideas aren't what makes Pixar movies great. Sure, Pixar films are really creative, but the reason I think their best films are masterpieces is because of the great storytelling on display. And this is where I think Inside Out disappoints in a major way.
For one thing, as creative as the idea is, it kind of fell apart the second I stopped to think about it (which, unfortunately, I did during the movie). For the small handful who don't know the movie's premise, the film takes place inside the mind of a twelve-year-old girl named Riley, and specifically focuses on the five emotions (Anger, Disgust, Fear, and especially Joy and Sadness) residing in her brain who are responsible for controlling how she feels. Whenever anything happens, these emotions take over and press buttons and pull levers, and we see the reaction reflected in Riley. And yet Joy, over the course of the film, experiences sadness, anger, fear, and disgust. So does Sadness. And it really bothers me because, given the premise of the movie, how is this possible? Are there also little people in the heads of the emotions who are in our own heads? And would those emotions that are in the heads of the emotions that are in our heads also have emotions in their heads? I know that for the film to work at all, these emotions have to have depth to them, which is hard to do if they're stuck on one emotion all the time, but given how complex and intricate the Pixar worlds usually are, this one struck me as distractingly implausible. And I didn't think all of the characters were well-served by the script. I actually found the character of Joy, ostensibly the protagonist, to be pretty unlikable--she was selfish and mean and arrogant and petty. And while this is certainly an interesting interpretation, it didn't really work for me if we're meant to accept this character as a true embodiment of happiness. Plus, I felt that the character of Riley was lacking. This character is important: she's not only a major character, but she's the setting of the movie, and all the stakes of the film rest in our emotional investment to her. But, while I didn't dislike Riley or anything, I also found her a bit bland and didn't find myself becoming invested in her story. I actually think that the filmmakers painted themselves into a bit of a corner here. In order to show how the emotions were affecting Riley, she's only ever allowed to experience five emotions over the course of the film, and only ever one at a time. That's not how real people operate. Riley's never allowed to show a mix of happiness and sadness, or of sadness and anger. Instead, she'll be distinctly happy, and then have to be distinctly angry or distinctly sad one second later with no transition. And this prevents her from being fully realized to me. Someone recently made an edit of all of the scenes of just Riley. A lot of people seem to love it, but for me it just highlights that Riley seems inconsistent, and her story isn't that well-constructed.
Also, I just felt a lot of the rules of the world weren't explained. While some touches were great, I didn't get why some of her Islands of Personality were collapsing, or what would happen if they all vanished--wouldn't Riley have been braindead then?
The most effective part of the story for me was Bing-Bong. This was a character who showcased what Pixar usually does so brilliantly. He was a creative character, yes, but he had genuine stakes and emotion. And, yes, I did tear up during (SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT I'M ASSUMING EVERYONE HAS ALREADY SEEN THIS MOVIE BUT STILL SPOILER ALERT) his tragic sacrifice (btw, even though he's an imaginary character, does Bing-Bong also have little people in his brain controlling his emotions? That must be the worst job in the world, to be the emotions inside the head of an imaginary friend). But you know where I didn't feel emotional? When Riley returned home and cried with her relieved parents. The storytelling that Pixar applied to a supporting character--one who actually isn't all that crucial to the plot when you think about it--was not reflected in the main story. So, I enjoyed Inside Out, and I thought it had some really great points. But is it an incredible movie? No. It's one of Pixar's weaker efforts for me, and the near universal praise for it despite these flaws seems highly overblown to me given the storytelling. I also know it's unlikely, but I'm hoping that this film miraculously loses the Best Animated Feature Oscar to Anomalisa. Seriously, if you look at these two films side by side, I think it should be obvious which is the better effort.
Cinderella
I actually already released a review of this, albeit a joke one consisting of pretty much just the words "pretty" and "bland" over and over again. Because that's what this movie was--it was pretty and bland. It was perfectly fine, but completely forgettable, lightweight, and unnecessary. So imagine my surprise when I find out that a lot of people not only liked this movie, but LOVED this movie. And I'm rather at a loss as to why. Look, I'm not saying that this story is off limits and can never be told again, but this movie doesn't attempt to put any perspective on any aspect of the story. With the amount of money that went into making it, there really should be more offered to the audience than pretty costumes.
Son of Saul
Son of Saul has been considered the frontrunner to win Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Oscars ever since its debut at Cannes. The directorial debut of Laszlo Nemes, Son of Saul tells the story of Saul (Geza Rohrig), a Sonderkommando member who, while disposing of bodies from the gas chambers, discovers the body of a young boy who he believes to be his son. In secret, he tries to arrange for a proper Jewish burial for the young boy. Nemes keeps the camera focused on Saul's face almost the entirety of the movie, and brilliantly sets the horrifying atmosphere using primarily offscreen sounds and Saul's facial expressions. What is actually shown on screen is not as bad as the general sense of madness and horror that Nemes is able to convey. All of this is impressive, and like with The Revenant, there's a lot that I can appreciate about this film and I feel the individual achievements of both Nemes and Rohrig are strong.
But, also like The Revenant, this film was in desperate need of an editor. It's not boring by any means, but there's a lot of time that feels like padding. If this had been a short film--maybe a fifteen minute movie with the same filmmaking skill--it could have been brilliant. It's such a simple story, no more time is needed than that. But instead, we have a feature length that is about an hour too long (although at least it's less than half of The Revenant's runtime). To fill that time, Son of Saul decides to show us how brutal life in the camps was. But as I watched Son of Saul, I questioned the justification for such a demonstration of brutality. We don't exactly learn anything new--nothing presented made me rethink what life in the camps must have been like--nor does this movie make you question anything. The movie is disturbing without being profound. For such a powerful story and such an upsetting setting, nothing from Son of Saul particularly stayed with me. The violent nature of it didn't feel earned. In some ways it felt like no more than artsy torture porn, hiding behind its subject matter to feign relevance.
That being said, I know that many others found far more profundity in this movie than I did, and if this movie did make you reflect on this period of time or resonated with you emotionally, I sincerely hope my comments on this potentially volatile film don't offend. And I must say, I eagerly await first time director Nemes' next film--Son of Saul was smartly made even if I felt that it missed the mark in a big way.
Labyrinth of Lies
And now another holocaust movie. Labyrinth of Lies is Germany's official selection for the Foreign Language Film award at the Oscars (sadly my favorite film of the year, the German movie Phoenix which is also about the holocaust, was deemed ineligible for contention), and many think it is likely to get a nomination. It tells an important story, but does so in what I feel is a misguided way. Labyrinth of Lies' hero is Johan Radmann (Alexander Fehling), a young, ambitious, and law-abiding German lawyer in post-war Germany. With the war over for more than a decade, the crimes of the concentration camps are not discussed, and mostly unknown, with many Nazi guards now living normal lives. After encouragement from a radical journalist (Andre Szymanski), Radmann decides to look into bringing charges against the guards at Auschwitz, which the more experienced attorneys at his firm think is ludicrous. But Radmann finds support from the head of his law firm, Fritz Bauer (Gert Voss), who was in the camps himself and who encourages him to pursue the case and warns him of how deeply it runs. Radmann discovers that what happened at Auschwitz was far more horrifying than anyone had realized, and eventually builds enough of a case to try the Auschwitz guards for murder. In doing so, the atrocities of the Nazis became a matter of public record, and assured that these crimes would not be forgotten, and hopefully never repeated.
As a film, it's fine. It has a nice style to it, but everything feels very generic and by-the-book. It also is not a subtle movie--its message is apparent because it's stated directly to the audience multiple times, and no matter how good that message is, it still feels preachy and heavy-handed when delivered from such a clumsy soapbox. But all of that is fine--they're flaws, but not enough to merit its inclusion in this list. Here's the worst part of Labyrinth of Lies: Radmann isn't real. This is a fictional character. And yet, his actions are all real. This trial happened, and it is one of the most important court cases in world history. But do you know who the prosecuting attorney was? Do you know which lawyer put the case together and did everything significant that Radmann does in the film? Fritz Bauer, who in the movie is demoted to being Radmann's boss. I find this decision, frankly, disgusting. Bauer is a hero--a Jewish concentration camp survivor, who against all odds, worked tirelessly to face his captors and make sure that justice was served. And even though this is a film that tells his story, even though this is a film that has him as a character, and even though this is a film that constantly speaks to the importance of his accomplishments, he is shoved to the side. And who do they put in his place? Radmann.
Look at this guy. He is the Aryan ideal. Radmann isn't Jewish, and is so absolutely the wrong face to put on such an important part of history. This year's Stonewall has rightfully been maligned for how it erased important historical figures in an offensive play to appeal to a broader audience. I see absolutely no difference between that film and how Labyrinth of Lies has replaced Bauer with Radmann. In fact, the only difference I can think of is that Stonewall was a critical flop, and deservedly so, but Labyrinth of Lies is seen as a likely Oscar nominee. And that's horrifying to me.
Macbeth
Okay, so this movie isn't exactly appearing on lots of top ten lists, but it was reasonably critically acclaimed. And more importantly, I hated it so much that I couldn't not include it on this list. I was so excited when this movie was announced. It's been years since we had a great Shakespeare movie (no, Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing was not great. It was fine) and I really thought this might be the one to do it. Macbeth is one of the best plays from one of the best writers of all time, and is especially ripe with potential for cinematic treatment. Plus, with a cast that includes overwhelmingly talented people like Michael Fassbender, Marion Cotillard, and David Thewlis, there was no way this could be bad.
And then I saw the movie, and it was one of the most unpleasant movies I've ever had to sit through.
Macbeth fails as a Shakespearean adaptation, but more than that, it fails as a movie in general. What becomes apparent from the beginning is that director Justin Kurzel has absolutely no interest in Shakespeare's text. He's a more visual director, which is fine, but not when you're dealing with a Shakespearean script, where the language is kind of the point. He cares so little about the text that he's instructed his cast to whisper just about every line of theirs (except at the end when everybody shouts really loudly!) Not only is the cast forced to whisper, but they appear to have been instructed to speak at a rate of maybe 3 words per minute. It's such a slowwwwww movie. Everything about this movie is depressing, from the somber performances to the ugly aesthetic, to the all-encompassing feeling of brooding. Kurzel wants to rely on atmosphere to make his movie work, but when there's no change in that atmosphere from scene to scene, it becomes monotonous really quickly. Macbeth isn't just bad, it's actively unwatchable. It feels like you're undergoing a court-ordered sentence by sitting through it.
I feel for the actors in this movie because, again, I know how talented they are, but they've really been put in an impossible situation. It's clear that they understand what they're saying, but they've all been directed to speak in the same, dull delivery. As a result, the characters on the screen are nothing like the vibrant and iconic characters Shakespeare had initially created. There's no passion or love between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth--two characters who should be utterly devoted to them. Yet Fassbender and Cotillard are never allowed a single tender moment. Speaking of Cotillard, I was looking forward to her performance at the end of the play, when Lady Macbeth famously goes mad, because I thought she would finally be given a chance to just let loose. But even in this scene she speaks in the same rhythm and tone as everyone else has throughout the entire movie. She seems detached and distant, sure, but no more so than she has the whole film, so you are left not really understanding the extent of her madness in this moment, and her untimely death feels perplexing. But the character worst served by the film is Banquo, played by Paddy Considine. I've liked Considine in other things, but his portrayal of Banquo isn't just bad, it's entirely unmemorable. In many productions of Macbeth, Banquo is a standout character. He and Macbeth are friends, and he basically represents the good person that Macbeth was before he became corrupted. Killed early in the play, it is imperative for the emotional stakes of the play that Banquo be likable. Here, he makes absolutely no impression. The entire point of the character is lost.
More like McBlech, am I right? Yeah, I'm right.
When you're directing an adaptation of a previously written script, you are of course welcome to make changes. It is, after all, an adaptation, and a change isn't in and of itself bad. As an example, the film The Mist has a drastically different ending than the book it is based on. But the new ending is justified and consistent with what came before it, so much so that Stephen King, who wrote the book The Mist, has gone on record saying he likes the movie's ending more than the one he came up with. Kurzel has made significant changes to the text, but none of them make any sense. If you're familiar with the play, here are some changes that were made and let me know if any of these make even a little bit of sense to you.
Malcolm walks in on Macbeth as he kills Duncan and wipes blood off his dagger, fleeing because Macbeth threatens to kill him to. Macbeth chooses not to kill Malcolm for absolutely no reason.
Instead of hiring assassins to murder Lady Macduff and her children, Macbeth burns them at the stake in front of everybody.
The porter--a character who would have broken up the overbearing and plodding mood of this movie--was removed entirely.
Instead of Macduff's army using the trees of Birnam Wood as camouflage, they burn the entire forest down. For some reason. Apparently because the smoke blows towards the kingdom, that makes it fulfill the prophesy, but I fail to see how this is a better visual image than an entire forest uprooting itself.
At best, these changes--and others that Kurzel made-- are pointless and don't really add anything. But at worst, they completely alter part of what makes Macbeth so effective. Much of the story is about how everyone trusts and likes Macbeth--he's supposed to be a great guy who no one believes would commit regicide. Kurzel instead portrays Macbeth as your standard-issue tyrant. Even from the first scene, it's hard to believe he hasn't murdered MORE people. By having his crimes way out in the open, Macbeth's brutishness is on full display. He's not trying to hide his misdeeds, which makes the inner guilt he feels about covering up his crimes feel misplaced and nonsensical.
Lastly, for all the emphasis Kurzel placed on visuals, he missed multiple opportunities to capitalize on the parts of the play most ripe for cinematic potential. When Banquo's ghost appears, those who are unfamiliar with the play might find it hard to realize he's a ghost--they just sort of have Paddy Considine standing there with nothing supernatural about him. I've seen stage productions that make a more convincing ghost out of Banquo. Similarly, a film version of Macbeth has a chance to create an effective floating dagger in a way that a staged version does not. But, for some reason, Kurzel opts to have no floating dagger. Instead, he brings back a soldier from the first scene in the film (a battle scene which is not in the play) and simply has the soldier holding the dagger out to Macbeth. It's an odd disparity--I felt that the parts of this play that needed to be more traditionally handled were made far too cinematic, but the parts of this play that most lent themselves for a cinematic rendering were completely shrugged off. There were so many parts of this play that Kurzel didn't take advantage of, and I can't help but feel this might have been rooted in his clear misunderstanding of the text.
To sum up, I think that this film of Macbeth can be summed up by quoting Macbeth himself. It is a film directed by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
You just got Shakespeared!
I'd initially planned to include all of my picks for the most overrated movies of the year in one post, but then I got to the final film on this list and my thoughts on it got so wordy that I felt the need to make it its own post. While I hated the Macbeth more, the amount of acclaim that this movie has received makes it my pick for the single most overrated movie of the year. And you can find out what this movie is, and read what I disliked about it so much, here.
Here's a hint: my nickname for this movie is The Big Shit.
Oscar nominations are going to be announced in a little over a week, and I should have my predictions posted soon. It's a tough batch to predict--this year has been especially unpredictable, with a lot of movies doing much better than expected in the precursor awards, and several movies not doing as well as expected. But, as always, it's a mixed bag. There are some movies that I feel deserve the attention they're getting, and some that I think are really not deserving of accolades of any kind. So, before I shift my focus to what WILL get nominated, I decided to think about what I think SHOULD get nominated. And I figured that the best way to do this is to hold an awards ceremony of my own. I should be clear that this is entirely my opinion--no one else is choosing who wins, just me.
You know, like the Oscars should be.
Below you'll find the results of the first annual Miles Movie Awards. Each category has six nominees, with the exception of Best Picture, Best Ensemble Cast, and Best Scene, which have ten nominees each. I've designated one winner in each category, and the other nominees are listed in order from first to fifth runner up. For the acting categories, there has been a bit of controversy over some performances being classified as either leading or supporting, but I made my own judgments (hence why Jason Segel and Rooney Mara are listed in the Leading categories even though they have been ludicrously classified as Supporting roles at some awards ceremonies). Also, the Best Picture and acting categories shouldn't be a surprise for anyone who has already read my countdown for the best movies and best performances of the year. And now, without any further ado, the winners and nominees are...
BEST PICTURE:
Winner:Phoenix
Other Nominees: Anomalisa
Room
Creed
Clouds of Sils Maria
Ex Machina
The Martian
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence
The Walk
Spotlight
BEST DIRECTOR:
Winner: George Miller, Mad Max: Fury Road
Other Nominees:
Robert Zemeckis, The Walk
Charlie Kaufman & Duke Johnson, Anomalisa
Paolo Sorrentino, Youth
Christian Petzold, Phoenix
Ryan Coogler, Creed
BEST ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE:
Winner: Tom Hardy, Legend Other Nominees:
Jason Segel, The End of the Tour
Ben Mendelsohn, Mississippi Grind
Bryan Cranston, Trumbo
Johnny Depp, Black Mass
Mark Ruffalo, Infinitely Polar Bear
BEST ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE:
Winner: Nina Hoss, Phoenix
Other Nominees:
Brie Larson, Room
Alicia Vikander, Ex Machina
Emily Blunt, Sicario
Saoirse Ronan, Brooklyn
Rooney Mara, Carol
BEST ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE:
Winner: Sylvester Stallone, Creed
Other Nominees:
Michael Shannon, 99 Homes
Harvey Keitel, Youth
Emory Cohen, Brooklyn
David Morse, Concussion
Ezra Miller, The Stanford Prison Experiment
BEST ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE:
Winner: Nina Kunzendorf, Phoenix
Other Nominees:
Jessica Chastain, Crimson Peak
Emily Browning, Legend
Jennifer Jason Leigh, The Hateful Eight
Jennifer Jason Leigh, Anomalisa
Imogene Wolodarsky, Infinitely Polar Bear
BEST PERFORMANCE BY A CHILD ACTOR:
Winner: Jacob Tremblay, Room
Other Nominees:
Imogene Wolodarsky, Infinitely Polar Bear
Oona Laurence, Southpaw
Abraham Attah, Beasts of No Nation
Güneş Şensoy, Mustang
Milo Parker, Mr. Holmes
BEST ENSEMBLE CAST:
Winner:The Hateful Eight (Demian Bichir, Bruce Dern, Walton Goggins, Samuel L. Jackson, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Michael Madsen, James Parks, Tim Roth, Kurt Russell, & Channing Tatum)
Other Nominees: Ex Machina (Domhnall Gleeson, Oscar Isaac, Sonoya Mizuno, & Alicia Vikander)
Clouds of Sils Maria (Juliette Binoche, Lars Eidinger, Johnny Flynn, Chloe Grace Moretz, & Kristen Stewart)
Phoenix (Nina Hoss, Nina Kunzendorf, & Ronald Zehrfeld)
The Stanford Prison Experiment (Michael Angarano, Moises Arias, Matt Bennett, Nicholas Braun, Jesse Carere, Gaius Charles, Billy Crudup, Brett Davern, Nelsan Ellis, James Frecheville, Keir Gilchrist, Miles Heizer, Jack Kilmer, Ki Hong Lee, Thomas Mann, Callan McAuliffe, Ezra Miller, Logan Miller, Benedict Samuel, Chris Sheffield, Tye Sheridan, Johnny Simmons, Olivia Thirlby, & James Wolk)
Creed (Tony Bellew, Michael B. Jordan, Phylicia Rashad, Sylvester Stallone, & Tessa Thompson)
The countdown is finally down to its last installment. After naming my picks for the best performances of the year, and starting my countdown with my pick for the 30th best film of the year, then continuing it with the next batch of ten, we're finally coming into the home stretch. It's time for me to announce my picks for the ten best films of the year. It's a pretty great lineup if I do say so myself, with plenty of movies I think everyone can agree on, and a few weird choices thrown in there. So, let's get started: here are my selections for the 10 best movies of the year!
#10: Spotlight
The current frontrunner to win the Academy Award for Best Picture,Spotlight is one of the year's most acclaimed movies for very good reason. Spotlightfollows the investigative journalists who exposed the Catholic sex abuse scandal, and handles this delicate subject matter with a steady and sensitive hand. The secret to Spotlight'ssuccess is that it really does focus on the journalists and the work they do rather than on the scandal itself. By doing so, it allows Spotlightto avoid coming across as preachy, while still making its point loud and clear. Everything about this film is subtle--the direction, the writing, and the acting--it's all level-headed and calm, but carries with it an astounding amount of gravitas. This isn't just a great movie, it's an important one.
#9: The Walk
Although it received critical acclaim when it was initially released, everyone seems to have forgotten about this movie by the year's end. And that's a real shame, because this movie was one of the biggest surprises for me this year. The Walk tells the true story of Philippe Petit as he famously walked on a tightrope between the Twin Towers. Now, this story was already told in the Oscar-winning documentary Man on Wire, and when I first heard about this movie was being made, I kind of thought it would be redundant. Man on Wire is excellent, and already tells the story of how this happened in an entertaining way--wouldn't any film adaptation of it come across as an imitation? And one that doesn't feature the real man who performed the feat? Well, The Walk completely won me over, thanks in huge part to director Robert Zemeckis. While Man of Wire tells the story of Petit's famous walk better, The Walk does a better job of showing WHY this walk was important, and in the film's incredibly final half hour, actually transports you to the tightrope so you feel like you were there. Zemeckis has a long track record of creating true movie magic--films like Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Forrest Gump, and of course Back to the Future truly capture our imaginations and transport us to these fun and fully realized worlds. The Walk, for me, deserves to be thought of in this upper echelon. Throughout the whole movie, not just the final sequence, Zemeckis finds some wonderful moments of magic and whimsy, all leading up to this breathtaking walk, which was certainly one of the most unforgettable scenes of the year. I also think that Joseph Gordon-Levitt did a good job with a really tough role--anyone who saw Man on Wire knows that if he had played Philippe Petit as accurately as possible, he would have come across as a cartoon character as opposed to a human being, but I think Gordon-Levitt found a good balance of playing a toned down Petit. He captured Petit's spirit, while still coming across as an actual human.
#8: A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence
This is undoubtedly the weirdest movie on my list, this Swedish film from director Roy Andersson is truly unlike any other movie I've ever seen. In lieu of a plot, A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence consists of about two dozen unconnected scenes. Each of these scenes is just one shot--the camera sits in a fixed position and doesn't move for the duration of the scenes. And the scenes are weird--all of the actors (none of whom are actors by profession) wear a bizarre prominent white makeup. It's as if these characters are all clowns, but they're clowns who exist in a world utterly deprived of joy. And then the scenes themselves are just bizarre. There's the shy king who stops into a cafe during war time to hit on one of the barmen while a seemingly endless parade of soldiers marches outside. There's the old man who has a flashback to what his favorite bar used to be like, until that flashback turns into a dirge-like musical number where the barmaid trades shots for kisses. There's a series of mysterious phone calls, where we only hear one side of the conversation, and that side of the conversation is always the same but with different people speaking the lines. Oh yeah, and one of those phone conversations takes place while a monkey screams in the foreground as part of some disturbing science experiment. There are, of course, the two toy salesmen (the closest this movie has to protagonists, and the only characters who feature in more than two scenes) who repeatedly deliver a downtrodden pitch for their utterly useless products (one of my favorite movie lines this year is their somber refrain of "We want to help people have fun.") And then, of course, there is the only scene in the movie that isn't filmed from one fixed position--and I won't say too much about what it is, but it happens to be the single most disturbing and baffling part of any movie this year.
Confused yet? Well, let me tell you something to confuse you even more: Watching A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is the most I've laughed at any movie this year. This movie is hilarious--it's so awkward and odd and absurd, that you can't help but laugh at the whole experience. With the exception of that one disturbing scene I mentioned, I don't think I stopped giggling throughout the entire movie.
"We want to help people have fun."
That being said, I don't know if I'd recommend this film for everyone. When I saw it, even though my friend and I were laughing throughout, pretty much everyone else in the theater hated it. Over half of them walked out before the movie was done, and early on, someone even chastised us for laughing so much (my friend politely informed them that this movie actually is a comedy). My recommendation is to watch a scene or two on youtube--like this one, or this one of the salesmen--and see what you think. These scenes are pretty indicative of what the entire movie is like. If you hate them, you will hate the movie. But if, like me, you find these scenes fascinating, then check out this movie and you'll be in for an experience you won't soon forget.
#7: The Martian
It's tough to make a popular movie. Movies with their eyes set on being major box office successes often walk a fine line between artistic integrity and commercial appeal. As much as I hate the trend, I can understand why producers seem to place emphasis on explosions and effects as opposed to clever writing, because explosions are more likely to get people into the seats. When blockbuster movies tend to fail as a piece of film, it has become fairly common for directors to take to social media and complain about how the studios prevented them from making the film they wanted to make--that happened twice this year with Joss Whedon for Avengers: Age of Ultron (the movie was fine but not incredible) and Josh Trank for Fantastic Four (the movie was a complete and utter disaster). This is why it's so exciting to see a blockbuster movie that figures out a good balance between smart filmmaking and mass entertainment, and I don't think I've ever seen a movie accomplish this balance as well as Ridley Scott's The Martian. I think this might just be the absolute best popcorn movie ever made. It's a movie you can turn your brain off for and enjoy--it's hilarious, but it's gripping and exciting too. But it's also a movie that offers plenty of food for thought, and holds up to analysis if you wish to examine it artistically. The film is about Mark Watney (Matt Damon), an astronaut and botanist who gets stranded on Mars after his crew mistakenly believes he died in a violent sandstorm. After he's stranded, the movie splits its time between Watney figuring out how to survive on a completely inhospitable planet, and the crew at NASA who are trying to figure out how they can possibly bring him back home. The acting across the board is strong, with everyone playing their part well (the standout of the supporting players, for me, was Chiwetel Ejiofor) but the movie clearly belongs to Damon. For the movie to work we have to really be rooting for Watney, and Damon definitely succeeds in making him likable (although he's aided by a great script which gives Watney numerous endearing and funny lines). He uses his humor as a defense mechanism, to help make his situation not seem so bad. But then there are moments where he freaks out, and this is what elevates Damon's performance from good to great. He pulls off these moments of frustration, of anger, and of fear perfectly. I enjoyed The Martian as an entertaining movie. But I also enjoyed it as a cinematic symbol of the value of human resourcefulness, ingenuity, and spirit.
#6: Ex Machina
We go from the big budget The Martian, to a smaller sci-fi film that approaches the genre in a much darker and smaller way. Ex Machina is about Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleeson, who had one heck of a year), a computer programmer who is invited to the reclusive home of computer genius and multi-billionaire Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac) for what he thinks will be a week-long retreat. When he gets there, however, he finds that there's a more significant purpose for his visit: Bateman has created artificial intelligence, and wants Caleb to be the human component of a Turing test for his robot, Ava (Alicia Vikander, who also had a heck of a year. So did Oscar Isaac for that matter. Good job, cast of Ex Machina!) As Caleb tests Ava, it becomes clear that there is far more at play. Nathan's arrogance turns into a sinister megalomania, and some unexplained occurrences begin to take place which completely disrupt any semblance of normalcy. As Caleb explores the true intentions of both Nathan and Ava, what we get is a three-part cat and mouse game between Nathan, Caleb, and Ava, and we don't find out until the very end which of them is a cat and which of them is a mouse. Written and directed by Alex Garland (in his directorial debut) the film never lags in momentum, building ever-increasing stakes and a tremendous amount of tension from its isolated setting. The acting too is top-notch. Gleeson is affable and appropriately geeky as Caleb, and imbues within him a necessary sense of intellect and inherent shyness. I'm pretty convinced at this point that Isaac will never give a bad performance, and his portrayal of Nathan is commanding--Nathan's a complete asshole, Isaac never lets us forget how dangerous this guy truly is. We believe he's capable of anything, and Isaac brings an incredible amount of sheer menace to almost every scene. There's also a good performance from Sonoya Mizuno as Nathan's silent housekeeper Kyoko. But the true revelation here is Vikander. Ava was always going to have to be at the center of the story. Is she human, or not? How aware is she of what's going on outside of the room in which she's always lived? Is she helpless and sympathetic, or is she dangerous and in far more control than she lets on? Vikander's performance manages to walk a perfect balance. You love this character, and truly believe that there is a humanity to her, but she also keeps the performance from being too natural that you forget her robotic origins. For most of the movie, she is a blank slate, and her performance ingeniously allows for any interpretation you may want to throw her way. Do you believe that she's plotting an escape and manipulating Caleb? Congratulations, that theory works with Vikander's performance! Do you believe she genuinely has feelings for Caleb and is an innocent who merely wants him to like her back? Congratulations, that theory works with Vikander's performance! Any theory that you may create in your mind about the true nature of Ava is allowed by Vikander's versatile acting. And, at the end, when all the mysteries of Ex Machina are revealed, her performance still holds up. Ex Machina is an example of sci-fi at its best: it utilizes inhuman and impossible ideas to allow for a more thorough examination of humanity. It will make you question everything you think you know about how your own brain works, and will do so while telling one of the most tightly orchestrated stories of the year.
#5: Clouds of Sils Maria
I'll get right to the point: Clouds of Sils Maria is one of the best screenplays of the decade. Written and directed by Oliver Assayas, it plays with its audience's minds the same way Birdman did last year, and constantly makes you question what is being presented to you. Clouds of Sils Maria is about actress Maria Enders (Juliette Binoche), who got her big break over twenty years ago when she was cast in the role of Sigrid in a play, and then subsequent film, called Maloja Snake which propelled her to stardom. We find out that Maloja Snake is about a volatile relationship between the young Sigrid, and her boss Helena, who begin a romantic relationship that soon turns manipulative and utterly destroys Helena's life. At the start of the play, the playwright dies and a revival of the production is announced: with Maria playing Helena this time. Maria is accompanied by her young assistant Valentine (Kristen Stewart), while the role of Sigrid will be played by the scandal-ridden Hollywood actress Jo-Ann Ellis (Chloe Grace Moretz). The movie is truly about the dynamic between these three women, which is constantly called into question. Valentine and Maria seem to have a relationship that might be like that of Sigrid and Helena's--and scenes of the two of them running lines are almost indistinguishable from their real conversations. The play is woven together to constantly blur the lines between reality and the play within the film, and it's an exciting mindgame to witness.
On top of the screenplay, the casting is inspired. Not only does Clouds of Sils Maria play off of the reputations of these actresses (some of Jo-Ann's scandals are clearly based off of tabloid headlines involving Stewart), but they deliver three excellent performances. The ensemble work between the three is nothing short of extraordinary--the relationships that they build with each other helps their performance as a cast build far beyond the already good performances they pull off individually. If there was one standout performance, however, it would be Stewart's. She won the Cesar Award--the French Oscar--for her work in this, and in doing so became the first American actress to do so. The movie is a masterclass in acting, writing, and directing, and one of the most fascinating movies I saw all year. It's definitely a movie you have to pay attention to, but this complex tapestry of a film is one worth trying to unravel.
#4: Creed
It's tough to keep a franchise going for seven movies. Things tend to lag and get stale, and you experience inevitable comparisons to originals that are now considered classics. When Creed was first announced as a new addition to the Rocky franchise, people let out a collective "huh?" No one was asking for another Rocky movie, especially has the franchise has had some missteps in the past. But Creed is like a shot of adrenaline, which revitalizes the franchise to the point that I wouldn't mind several more Creed films. But it's not my fourth favorite film of the year because of how it compares to the original--I rank it so high because it's such a good standalone film in its own right.
Creed follows Adonis Johnson (Michael B. Jordan), the illegitimate son of Apollo Creed who dreams of being a fighter and building a legacy of his own. He moves from L.A. to Philadelphia and enlists Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone, of course) to train him. The story here is very familiar--it's an underdog story that clearly pays homage to the original Rocky. But while Creed is notable for the similarities between it and Rocky, it's also notable for the differences. Creed is its own film, and Adonis is his own hero. I'm fairly certain that everyone already agrees that Jordan is one of the most promising young talents out there, and he continues to prove why with this performance. At the start of the film, he's living in a mansion and has a steady job, where he just received a promotion. His decision to become a fighter is a really bad one on paper, but Jordan does a great job of showing us Adonis' passion: it's clear that this is the only thing he will be happy doing. Adonis is headstrong, and at times arrogant and angry to a fault, but you never stop rooting for him. If Rocky Balboa was the old face of Philadelphia, Adonis Johnson represents the new Philadelphia, and maintains the same sense of inherent goodness and powerful resolve that made Rocky such a great hero.
Speaking of Rocky, Stallone is back and fulfilling the role of trainer this time--Rocky has become Mickey. Stallone is wonderful, giving one of the absolute best performances of the year. In many ways, it's unfair. Stallone has played this role for so long, and understands this role so intimately, that he possesses such a strong sense of this character that most actors can only dream of. It's a joy just to watch Stallone exist on screen in character. Every moment he's on screen is so natural and so deliberate. Sure, there are particular scenes where he's allowed to really showcase his acting chops, and those are incredible (one scene in a hospital made me cry--if you've seen the movie you know which one) but every second Stallone is on screen is simply a joy to watch.
Creed is a testament to director and co-writer Ryan Coogler--this is simply one of the best made films of the year. The fights are amazing--you really feel like you're in the ring in a way I've never felt before. Many have talked about it before me, but there's one fight in the middle of the film that is absolutely extraordinary. Done in one take, the scene is a masterclass in sound mixing and cinematic staging. Creed is a great movie on both a technical and an emotional level. Whether you've seen the previous Rocky movies or not, Creed is really not one to miss.
#3: Room
The premise of Room is not the most appealing one. It's about Joy Newsome, known in the film as Ma (Brie Larson) who has been kidnapped and held captive in a renovated garden shed for seven years. For five of those years, she's also had her son Jack (Jacob Tremblay) by her side. To shield him from the pain of their situation, Ma has told Jack that their prison, which they call Room, is the entire world, and that nothing exists outside of it. Much of the movie focuses on their day to day routines and Ma's attempts to keep Jack happy and herself sane. But then, after his fifth birthday, she decides that it's time for them both to try and escape.
If this all sounds depressing, don't worry, it definitely is. But Room is also wonderful in its outlook and insight into the mind of a child. Those involved in the making of Room have managed to mine great joy out of small moments in a horrifying situation. Seeing Jack happy, and seeing the satisfaction that this brings Ma, is both devastating and beautiful. The film is, unsurprisingly, held together by the incredible performances of both Larson and Tremblay--they operate as one wonderful unit. For each one, the other is quite literally the entire world, and the closeness of these characters can't help but be powerful. Written by Emma Donoghue, who also wrote the book it is adapted from, and directed by Lenny Abrahamson, Room creates one of the most distinct worlds of the year. It takes a nightmarish situation and makes it feel very real, but in a way that provokes thought as opposed to being flat out disturbing. Horrifying and inspirational, it's a remarkably effective film. At times, it almost feels like an improbably fairy tale with how it creates heartwarming moments out of much darker origins. In the later part of the film which (spoiler) takes place outside of Room, the film isn't quite as strong, but still holds its audience at attention and offers some incredible moments. This is a film that truly stays with you long after you have left the theater.
#2: Anomalisa
One of the best screenwriters of all time is Charlie Kaufman. When I look at his filmography, I'm struck by how many of his films feature truly original concepts. Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Syencdoche NY, these are all movies that offer something truly unique. It's amazing to me that one mind can come up with so many ideas that are so completely realized while being definitively one-of-a-kind. And so when I heard that Kaufman was releasing his first film in about eight years, I was really excited. And once again, Kaufman has created a movie completely without peers--one that is truly unlike anything else. It's hard for me to discuss it without giving away the plot, which I'm going to go over in the next paragraph, so if you're concerned with spoilers and want to experience this movie fresh, then skip over the next paragraph, but know that despite being an animated movie, this is one of the most innately human movies of the year and that it really is not to be missed.
Anomalisa follows Michael Stone (David Thewlis), a customer service guru and reasonably well-known author who is in Cincinnati on a business trip. But there's something about Michael: to him, for the past eleven years, every other person in the world has had the exact same face and voice (all voiced by Tom Noonan, who somehow manages to make his characters distinct even though he must deliver his lines with no differentiation in his voice and with almost the same cadence). Until he is shocked to overhear in the hall outside his hotel room a different voice, that of Lisa Hesselman (Jennifer Jason Leigh). He is, understandably, intrigued--and the film wonderfully portrays Stone's desperation and enthusiasm as he rushes into the hall to find the source of this new voice. A romance begins between them that night, and I loved how simple it was. Lisa is not an extraordinary person--she's kind of awkward and offbeat, and much of what she says is rather plain. And yet watching the film, you, like Michael, absolutely fall in love with her for the very reason that she's herself. And, really, I can't think of a more apt way to display what it's like to be in love with someone: when you are in love, you love a person's personality and characteristics no matter what they are precisely because those traits belong to them. At one point, Lisa sings a charming and thoughtful rendition of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," for Michael and it's the first time he's heard a person sing in years (early on, he tries to listen to some opera on his ipod which is sung atonally and perfectly by Noonan). Lisa, oblivious to how Michael perceives others, says she loves Cyndi Lauper because "she's not afraid to be herself." Little does she know that, despite her own insecurities, she is a symbolic embodiment of that own sense of self-identity.
Pictured: many Tom Noonans.
I don't want to say too much more because I think that this movie is filled with poignant moments that you have to experience for yourself, and which each person will interpret differently. This is a movie about how we operate as people, and everything is geared towards that level of introspection. From Michael's profession working in customer service where he lumps all people together as a singular "consumer" and gives advice on how to appeal to them, to the fact that the hinges are kept on the models' faces to showcase the mechanics of how our expressions operate, the film is full of subtle and not so subtle touches which make us think about the nature of humanity more than pretty much any movie I've ever seen. It took an animated film to shine a light on real people so perfectly.
And, while this should go without saying if you've seen any Charlie Kaufman film ever, there's plenty of offbeat humor and outright weirdness--especially in one incredible sequence involving a hotel manager, a distorted hallway, and someone's face literally flying off.
#1: Phoenix
Most people have not heard of this film. But, you know who has heard of this film? Anybody who has spoken to me this past year, because ever since I saw it, I've said "this is going to be my pick for the #1 movie of the year." A German film (which was criminally deemed ineligible for the Foreign Language Oscar due to a technicality), Phoenix is about holocaust survivor Nelly Lenz (Nina Hoss), who has reconstruction surgery to restore her face after suffering injuries in the concentration camp. She seeks out her husband Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld) who believes that she died in the war, despite her friend Lene's (Nina Kunzendorf) belief that Johnny betrayed her to the Nazis which led to her capture. When Nelly finds Johnny, he doesn't recognize her, but does think she looks enough like hisbelieved to be dead wife that he recruits her for a scheme: he asks her to pretend to be his dead wife so that he can collect her inheritance. Nelly, wanting to be with Johnny again, and curious to find out if he betrayed her or not, agrees to the plan, and goes about being coached to be like her old self. The premise is downright Hitchcockian (it's clearly inspired in part by Vertigo), and gets more and more complex and mysterious as more information is revealed.
This is, quite simply, a perfect film. It's a truly masterful work by director Christian Petzold, who uses each moment to his advantage--I can't think of a single line that was out of place, or a single frame that wasn't utilized. Very little is ever said outright--it's all simply inferred from quieter clues. And much credit should be given to the performances, especially from the three most prominent performers, Hoss, Zehrfeld, and Kunzendorf. As Johnny, Zehrfeld is a true enigma, and we are as in the dark about him as Nelly is. Could he be a sleazy villain, or is he a misunderstood good guy who genuinely loves his wife? Or could he lie somewhere between these two camps? Zehrfeld makes every possibility equally plausible. Kunzendorf almost steals the movie as Nelly's friend Lene--an angry and capable woman who comes across as a voice of reason. Kunzendorf portrays her with a level of strength that makes you trust her instantly, and is a truly commanding presence on the screen. But the undeniable star here is Hoss. Nelly is vulnerable, yet completely in control. Nelly never speaks her motivations out loud, but we understand why she does everything she does thanks to the confidence that Hoss brings to this performance. She's sensational to watch, especially as she runs a complete gamut of emotions. Her performance builds and builds up until the ending--one of the absolute best endings in the history of film. I won't give away how it ends, but I will say that, as the title would suggest, it is a moment of complete rebirth for Nelly. In the more than capable hands of Hoss, this character ends the movie completely transformed into a new version of herself, and it is astonishing to watch. This movie, and Hoss' performance in particular, is a masterclass in acting.
I also want to make a note about how this movie deals with the subject of the holocaust. It's a holocaust movie, but one that takes place after the war has ended. The film doesn't focus on the war, but its lingering ghost is an all-pervasive backdrop. And I think that this film deals with the holocaust better than almost any film I've ever seen. Nelly has clearly been through a lot, but never talks about it. Before her surgery, we never see her face except under bandages and don't know the extent of her injuries or how she received them. There's only one scene where she actively talks about her time in the holocaust, and even then she's unable to finish the horrifying story she tells, and tells it only after falsely stating that it was a story she heard, not one she experienced. The fact that she is unwilling to talk about the camps makes their presence all the more apparent, and is what makes this film's treatment of the delicate subject so powerful. As Johnny coaches her to act like herself in front of their friends, she frequently says, "Surely they'll want to know about what it was like living in the camps, shouldn't I think of stories to tell them," and he assures her "no one will ask." And indeed no one does. This silence speaks volumes, and is equal parts chilling and heartbreaking. The way that Phoenix deals with this subject shows admirable restraint--restraint which extends to its storytelling as a whole. Pound for pound, frame for frame, in terms of acting, writing, directing, importance, story, character, and mood, Phoenix is, to me, a no-brainer pick for the best film of the year. It's thought-provoking, but also entertaining--a mysterious thriller that will keep you guessing in the best way.
Oh, and in case you missed it in theaters, Phoenix is currently on Netflix. Watch it. You will not regret it.
Bonus Pick: Yes! Ham Goes Up An Escalator
As great as Phoenix is, I think we can all agree that the real best movie of the year was this masterpiece from the website clickhole. If it doesn't win the Oscar for Best Cinematography, it'll be a huge snub.
Well, those are my picks for the very best films of 2015. What are your thoughts? What movies did I get right, and what movies did I get wrong? And what movies do you think I missed entirely? Share your own top ten lists in the comments, and I look forward to another year of great movies in 2016!
