#2: Bikur Ha-Tizmoret (2007)

This little gem of a film was a surprise find for me. I heard about it, was interested in it, but had no idea how much it would impact me or make me feel. The movie is a great meditation on the power of silence, and how much stronger it can be when utilized effectively. The movie is the simple story of an Egyptian Police Band that gets off in the wrong city on their way to a performance and have to spend the night in the little town, with all its residents.

The relationship is between the Arabs and the Egyptians, which is surprisingly free of any tension. Instead, these strangers treat each other as individuals and not as strange stereotypes. The group breaks off into segments, staying with various town folk, and have varying but exciting adventures. Tawfiq (Sasson Gabai), the leader of the Band, is a reserved, quiet fellow, and Dina (Ronit Elkabetz) is the woman who tries to break his stern exterior.

A younger member of the Band goes out with younger members of the town and in one brilliant choreographed scene, instructs a fellow on how to woo a female. A random citizen stands by a telephone booth and awaits the call of his girlfriend, his long lost love. The are so many subtle touches, and the movie never feels overdone or overworked. By the time you get to the end, and Tawfiq and his merry band pipe out a wonderful tune, you know you have seen an instant classic.

This film was not nominated for the Academy Award's Best Foreign Language Film award; it was disqualified because the Academy found that over 50% of the movie's dialogue was in English. That is ridiculous in my mind; what should matter is where the movie comes from, and how good it is, not how much of it is in English. I know the category is "Foreign Language Film," but the movie was made by a Foreign Language Country. Isn't that enough? All that complaining aside as to why this was snubbed, The Band's Visit is a criminally underseen movie, but one that will leave quite satisfied and, well, happy.

#3: United 93 (2006)

It goes without saying that the ultimate defining moment of this decade will be September 11th, 2001. It was a watershed date that changed everything about our perceptions of international relations and safety on the home front, the first time American soil had been attacked since December 7th, 1941. Many of you will probably scorn me for making United 93 my number three pick for the decade, claiming that it is too easy a pick and only selected because of its shock value.

Truth be told, United 93 is a very respectful retelling of the events of that day, as we surmise they happened. The movie plays out, more or less, in real time, as the planes hit the trade center and the people on the fated flight quickly realize what is going on. The movie jumps around, from the plane, to the numerous air traffic controllers trying to figure out what is going on. The movie is careful not to exploit its subject matter, presenting the information from the perspective of what we knew that day. It knows nothing more and nothing less.

The movie also doesn't develop any of the passengers on board the Flight, and we observe them as if we too were a passenger on that flight. You really don't get to know people on your flights too well, and no unnecessary backstory is given to anyone. There are no Hollywood actors, and many of the air traffic controllers are portrayed by their real life counterparts. Director Paul Greengrass, who is known for the last two Bourne films, could have easily fallen into action movie clichés, but doesn't. These people are not action heroes, but they are heroes in their own rights, especially the passengers on the plane who fought the terrorists and brought the plane down. Even the terrorists are presented with a sliver of humanity, which is a risky thing for Greengrass to do. It reminds us that not everything is clearly black or white, and no one is truly evil.

I understand many people didn't see this movie because they felt it was too soon for Hollywood to be making 9/11 movies, and I respect people's decisions to not see the film. It is a tough experience, and certainly not entertaining by any stretch of the imagination. But it accurately captures a moment in history, the attitude, the confusion, the sadness, and will be something for our grandchildren and their grandchildren to watch and really understand what happened that fateful day in September.

#4: Ratatouille (2007)

Of the many things we'll look back on this decade and analyze, Pixar's reign of supremacy over all American animation will surely be near the top. The studio came into their own this decade, giving us Monsters, Inc (2001), Finding Nemo (2003), The Incredibles (2004), Cars (2006), Ratatouille (2007), Wall•E (2008) and Up (2009). While no, not all of those titles are spectacular, they are still really good, and most studios dream of putting out this many quality animated films in a decade. Maybe Pixar's golden era is over, as it really was started by 1999's Toy Story 2, and next summer we will get Toy Story 3. As long as John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, and Pete Doctor maintain control, Pixar should continue to produce excellent films.

But Ratatouille tops the list because it is simply the most unexpected Pixar film of the bunch. True, saying Ratatouille is better then Wall•E or Finding Nemo is basically saying which exotic chocolate you prefer; they all are exquisite. And if that lame food analogy doesn't convince you, well, I just simply have to say that whenever Ratatouille pops up on the screen I am hypnotized and can't pull away. The movie sweeps me away into its world of talking animals that can't talk to humans. It's rooted in reality while still maintaining a cartoon perspective on everything. Remy (Patton Oswalt) communicates with the hapless Linguini (Lou Romano) by pulling on his hair and controlling his actions in the kitchen.

Ratatouille is also bolstered by a strong voice cast, which includes Jeneane Garofalo, Ian Holm, and Peter O'Toole as a terrifying food critic who, "...loves food...if I don't love it, I don't swallow." The story is about a rat who loves food, but obviously rats in the kitchen are a bad thing. And when a horde of rats engulf a kitchen and begin preparing dinner for unaware customers, it still is pretty gross, but simultaneously hilarious. And what really makes this movie work is it doesn't exist in a fairy tale land where everything turns out good; a health inspector sees all the rats, and the famed restaurant is closed. Many animators would have kept the health inspector subplot out, but this added touch of reality does wonders for the movie.

That, and an excellent speech by Peter O'Toole's character, Anton Ego, really catapult this movie far and above most animated movies. It is a message I hope hit home with many critics, because it is basically director Brad Bird's way of commenting on how easy it is to laugh a scorn at something someone has put their heart and soul into creating. Bird also directed The Incredibles and last decade's The Iron Giant (criminally underrated). He is a fine storyteller, and I look forward to his new live action film due out in the near future. For now, I leave you with Ego's famous speech at the end of the movie:

"In many ways the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful then our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and the defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new need friends. Last night I experienced something new; an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins then those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less then the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more." - Anton Ego

#5: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Another major talent I was exposed to this decade, and who really came into their own, was Charlie Kaufmann, the screenwriter. His Adaptation (2002) and this film both garnered Oscar Nominations (as did the past decade's Being John Malkovich) and he won for this film for Best Original Screenplay. And there really is no other way to put it, this really is one of the most original things I've seen.

Jim Carrey stars in what is quite possibly his best role, as Joel Barrish, a hapless man who falls for Clementine (Kate Winslet) and begins a romantic relationship with her. However, after they have a big fight, she has her memories of him erased, and so he, distraught, decides to have the same procedure performed on him. Slowly, throughout the erasing process, he realizes that there were plenty of good times with Clementine as well, and he wants to hold on to them.

This movie is directed by Michel Gondry, who certainly has a panache for visual artistry, but really is quite inept at developing his own stories (see The Science of Sleep). He co-wrote the story with Kaufmann, but it is Kaufmann's script that is the real star here. It is about love, and the message it is better to have love and lost then to not have loved at all rings loud as a bell here. But Kaufmann also illustrates how we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes if we don't learn from them. Not just from the Joel/Clementine bookend segment, but also with a great subplot involving Kirsten Dunst, Tom Wilkinson, Mark Ruffalo, and Elijah Wood (in his creepiest role ever). The film ends with a lack of finality, but affirms how powerful real relationships are, and how worth it they can be.

Kaufmann also went on to direct and write the ill-received Synecdoche, New York (2008), though I enjoyed that film immensely. True, I admit that Kaufmann went a little too far with that one, but I still enjoyed its dare, its willingness to break the mold. Any of Kaufmann's films are quite unlike something you have seen, though they definitely echo with famous tales of times past. One things for sure, I will be keeping my eye on him in the coming decades and eagerly await whatever he puts out there for us.

#6: 4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile (2007)

Moving on from a subtle, deft picture about life, to another subtle, but intensely painful and realistic look at abortions in 1980s Romania. The movie chronicles the woman whose abortion this is, and her friend who helps her through the horrific ordeal. Director Cristian Mungiu is a very patient director, and lets whole scenes play out for as long as they need to go.

The camera acts as a third person involved in this abortion, placing the viewer directly in the situation. Editing is spare, and this leaves the actors as the real stars, shaping their own performances and controlling the pace of the movie. In fact, there is one, painful, unbroken 8 1/2 minute shot at a dinner table, as the one girl must leave her female companion to attend a dinner, and Mungiu immerses us in her world, impatiently waiting for this rambunctious party to be over.

But more then the camera composition is how cold this movie feels. Really, once you get through this ordeal, how can you have emotion left? Yes, a fetus is shown in an extended shot, but even if that wasn't there I would still love that picture. That moment alone does not make or break the movie, but it does enhance the gravity of the situation.

To be sure this is an emotionally draining experience, and you won't leave with a grin or a smile. What you will leave with, though, is a sense of what enforcing basic human choices can do to people. I'm not going to make an argument about whether she was in the right to get that abortion, but I will argue that situations like this are the result of governments oppressing their people. More then the message, though, it's a damn fine exercise in nail-biting suspense.

#7: Yi yi (2000)

No one can really thoroughly explore the movies of this decade without, at one point or another, arriving at Yi Yi. As time pushes on we may have to recognize as one of the greatest films ever made, as Sight and Sound did by in 2002 (it was listed as one of the 10 greatest films from 1977 - 2002). My first time viewing this movie, I admittedly dozed off several times, but that was because I had had a tiring day, and not a reflection on the quality of the movie. A subsequent viewing confirmed what my friend had said: it was spectacular.

The movie is about life, it is about people, really living. They make choices not because the plot needs them to, but because they are motivated to. NJ, the protagonist, runs into a woman on an elevator, and simply stares at her saying, "Is it you?" They were once lovers, and he didn't show up one day. NJ is married, has a son, and the movie doesn't force his relationship with this new woman, it grows organically.

So do all the characters, from the mother-in-law, to the son, to his brother and his newly married life. All these characters exist in a practical, tangible universe and are motivated by real life choices. The movie runs 173 minutes, and not a moment of it feels wasted or too long. Edward Yang, the Taiwan director behind this film, has released several others but sadly we here in the States have no access to his other films. I hear his others are incredible too.

I really don't want to say too much more about this movie. It has to be experienced to be appreciated, to be understood. I heap praise on it, but do not raise it higher on my list because though I recognize its greatness, I have a special affinity with the rest of the movies here. Still, any cinephile owes it to themselves to check out this criminally under seen movie. You won't regret it.

#8: Tasogare Seibei (2002)

In this decade, I developed my true passion for movies, my true desire to become a filmmaker. The first major movie I made with my friends was a Samurai trilogy, and through making those movies, I began to see other movies about Samurais, including Kurosawa's great Shichinin no samurai (1954). By the year 2004 I was done with the movie, but The Twilight Samurai (Tasogare Seibei) was released in theaters, and I went with a friend to go see it.

The movie is not blades flashing, or endless gore, or anything that might lend itself to what we expect a samurai film to be today. It is more in the vein of the Kurosawa works of the 50s and 60s, and is a terrific, lyrical masterpiece of loneliness in 19th-century Japan. Hiroyuki Sanada plays Seibei, the samurai of the original title, whose wife has recently died, forcing him to spend his days raising his children. When the woman of his dreams divorces her husband, Seibei takes up the mantle of challenging him.

The movie is a prime example of doing very little with a lot, and is mostly a quiet film, punctuated by brief scenes of violence. There are two sword fights in the whole movie, and one lasts for maybe ten seconds. The movie isn't about the actions of the samurai, it is about how the man lives his life day to day. We are shown his family life, shown what he does to survive, and his resolve at picking up the sword again until he needs to. The movie also doesn't bury itself in mumbo jumbo about honor, the samurai's code, or any of that other stuff. It is simply the character, and what he deems is right.

This movie made a strong connection with me when I first saw it, and continues to resonant with me to this very day. It, along with Kurosawa's samurai films, take me back to the days when I was discovering my love for movies, and how I ate up every moment of those films. Twilight Samurai is a criminally underseen film, but I also enjoy that aspect of it. The few of us that have seen it can marvel in its glory and wonder. This movie was, more or less, my induction into Art House cinema.

Avatar (2009)

It's nice to know that in this world there are still filmmakers who know how to make a solid action movie. Who know that an action movie isn't really about the action at all, but about the characters who carry out the actions. That Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) become completely identifiable and sympathetic in this movie is one of the only real reasons it works.

The film that took 12 years for Cameron to bring to us, Avatar, has certainly been analyzed as a Dances with Wolves, Smurfs, and Ferngully hybrid, and if you like boiling movie's plots down to essentially what they resemble, then this a fair assessment. But Cameron's picture succeeds because it takes what could have been a very silly story, and makes it believable. Sure, this movie is ridden with clichés, and every moment is predictable, but Cameron spends so much time painting the world of the Na'vi and their indigenous land that you fall for them as Jake Sully does.

The movie takes place some odd years in the future (it is never said, though keen eyed people probably picked up on the dates on video diary screens), where the natives of the planet Pandora reside upon a mineral source that is worth lots of money. So, naturally, corporate fat cats want to buy the land from the people and mine the shit out of that stuff. Problem is, the natives won't budge.

Sully is a paraplegic, and is assigned to Pandora when his brother is killed. A rather expensive avatar (Na'vi look-a-likes) was made for him, and since Sully shares the same Genome, he is the perfect money and time saving candidate for the job. Soon, he inhabits the Na'Vi's body and goes to learn about their people.

A lot of the characters in this movie are more caricature then character; Stephen Lang plays the evil Colonel, though really he is just doing his job. Giovanni Ribisi is the above mentioned fat cat, and Michelle Rodriguez plays the only soldier with enough of a conscious to decide killing innocent blue people is wrong. And on the Na'vi side there are the old, wise clan leaders and the hot head warrior that challenges the outsider.

But the movie stands above most other genre pictures because it marvels at the scenery and beauty that is surrounding them. 60% of the film is CGI, 40% live action, and you really can't tell the difference most of the time from scene to scene. The settings, the small creatures, and plants, trees and textures are so pain-stakingly detailed that they absorb you. The world of Pandora is unfolded to us as it is to Sully, and never overloads you with information.

I was skeptical of this movie, but by the time Sully tames a pterydactol thingy and flies through the air, I was sold on the movie and completely exhilarated. At that point, my brain took a backseat and I just drowned in the imagery and action at the end. I fought and fought the movie, and the movie deservedly one.

Maybe most surprising about this film is how patient it is. This is not an action heavy movie; there are few scenes at the beginning when local wildlife attack the naive Sully. But the Colonel doesn't roll out the artillery until the end, and the final action sequence is so epic it makes up for the "lack" of action and shooting earlier. Really, that is so rare for a movie these days to actually make its audience wait for the big battle at the end.

What's even more remarkable is that this movie is a blockbuster hit now, and is not based on anything concrete. Obviously it is an update of our genocide on the Native Americans way back when, but there is no comic book, novel, or anything else that this was based on. All the characters came from Cameron and his crew, and originality like that is about near impossible to find in Hollywood. Of course, the script could have been injected with a shot of originality too, but the creatures make up for that.

A note on the 3D in this picture: it is quite unlike what I have seen before. It doesn't call attention to itself and make things pop out of the screen to hit you. Instead, it just amplifies the scenery and creates more depth to what is going on. I've become less of a fan of 3D in the past year due to the insane amount of films that come out in the format, but here, the 3D doesn't drive the movie, it only serves to enhance everything. That being said, I also saw this in IMAX, and was quite confused as to why the image didn't fill the screen; I expected bars on top and bottom, but there were also pillars on the sides, so the image didn't stretch across the whole screen. Was it like that at other IMAXes? (and I mean real IMAX, not bullshit new IMAX).

This movie has set the bar pretty high in terms of photorealistic CGI; I've never seen anything so convincing, and wonder when the time will come that a whole movie will be created that is completely CGI, without actors (just voices), that is totally convincing. I honestly hope this never happens; CGI can't replace flesh, and Cameron wisely keeps the real actors in live action scenes instead of replacing them. Cameron and Peter Jackson know that CGI should only be used to enhance your movie, not drive it, and filmmakers like Michael Bay and George Lucas believe that computers can do everything.

I hope Cameron doesn't take another 12 years to make another movie; though he knows how to utilize CGI, he also lets the script for the most part take a back seat to it. But this is a smart movie; it doesn't say anything new, but it reiterates what we know, and there is a certain poignancy in watching a line of humans being marched onto a space ship and sent back home, defeated, in the end. "They killed their mother," one spiritually in-touch character says. It's a kick-in-the-pants reminder that we can't continue winning forever, and that eventually, the human race will lose.

#9: Minority Report (2002)

This decade saw a huge leap into the Sci-fi genre by mega-director Steven Spielberg, where 3 of the 7 movies he directed fell into that genre. The first was A.I. (2001), a movie he took over after Stanley Kubrick's death, and though it is a fairly decent movie, it suffers from Spielberg's touch. The second, Minority Report (2002), is named here as the ninth best of the decade. And finally was Spielberg's weakest attempt, War of the Worlds (2005).

Minority Report stands head and shoulders above anything else he made this decade (Catch Me if You Can (2002), The Terminal (2004), Munich (2005), and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)) as a great entertainment and a great story. It's one of the few movies that I can continuously pop into the DVD player and be completely mesmerized for, from the opening to the end.

Tom Cruise plays John Anderton, a futuristic cop in the year 2054, where new technology has allowed cops to catch murderers before they actually commit the crime. The movie sets us on the eve of the program, which is only in D.C., being taken national. Colin Farrell plays Danny Witwer, who is investigating the unit, dubbed Pre-Crime, to find any flaws. Of course, a flaw is discovered when Anderton himself is named as a future killer, though the doesn't know the man he is supposed to kill. Much of the rest of the time he is on the run.

The film is a terrific sci-fi parable of our times, and uses technology that scientists actually believe could exist in the future. The film has a desaturated look, and is quite frenetic during some of the crazier scenes. The overall Production Design is outstanding, from cars that run on autopilot to a really awesome sonic boom gun thingy. Everything about is great.

But what really makes the movie work is its mythology. The future is seen by three individuals, known as Pre-Cogs (Samantha Morton is one of them), who are kept in a water tank at all time and isolated from the cops. How they work, why they work, and why Agatha (Morton) got there is all compelling and really makes you want to know more about this world. Tom Cruise's character is given an admittedly somewhat hammy backstory (his son was taken at a public pool), but Spielberg thankfully never gives us any closure on that thread, which makes it more powerful and more true to life.

My roommate Ben brought up on interesting theory about the ending: when Anderton is eventually apprehended, he is put into Tim Blake Nelson's holding cell, and is he lowered into the catacombs, Nelson says, "All your dreams become reality." (something along those lines) After that, everything is in Anderton's head, as the person who set him up kills himself and dramatic improbable things happen.

Whether the ending is in Anderton's head or really happens is irrelevant to me; its still a thrilling conclusion that I love seeing played out again and again. What does matter is that Spielberg crafted one of the greatest entertainments of our time, and a movie I know will hold up for years and years to come.

#10: The Lord of the Rings (2001 - 2003)

If there's one thing we are going to remember this decade by, it's going to be the chart of the American blockbuster: from its heights as a Best Picture winner, to its fall after LOTR 3 won the top prize in 2003. Think about it, the last time an epic, big budget Hollywood movie won Best Picture was LOTR; since then, its been smaller budget pictures all around, with little box office.

I honor LOTR not because it simply won Best Picture, but because the film is also an amazing feat in filmmaking in general. This movie defined Super-deluxe DVDs, with each one detailing hours and hours of exhausting production. I myself only delved into the Fellowship's special features, but anyone who wants to get a very good idea of what kind of heart and suffering it takes to make a movie, this would be a good one to watch (also Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse).

LOTR details the struggles of young Hobbit Frodo (Elijah Wood) to destroy the Ring of Power before the evil Sauron can fully posses it and return to domination. He is aided by Gandalf the Grey/White (Ian McKellen), Sam (Sean Astin), Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), Legolas (Orlando Bloom) and Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), among a wide host of other characters. After Part One, the movies separate into a sprawling saga of Frodo's quest to destroy the ring and Aragorn's quest to less interesting but still awesome and exciting things.

Probably one of the most impressive things about this movie is how wrong it could have gone; most movies dealing with ogres, orcs, elves, and the like are really lame and stupid, and the fantasy genre really ever breaking the mold is unheard of. Yet this movie rose head and shoulders above the rest, and though it is not without its flaws (Liv Tyler, for one, and the six endings of part 3), it still is a masterpiece of filmmaking.

For instance, watching the movies again last year, I was struck by how detailed and precise Peter Jackson, the director, was in keeping scale and frame of reference in mind. Though the Hobbits and Dwarf are played by actors who are average in height, camera trickery and little people are cleverly used to make the "normal" people seem like giants. Of course, now that you know to watch for it you realize the little people in the wide shots really aren't the actors, but it still works.

That, and the movie's perfection of the motion capture technology for the character of Gollum: even six years later, he seems as lifelike and convincing as when he first hit that screen to take the precious. There very few moments in history of true revolution in technology, but this was one, and it convinced James Cameron that computers were advanced enough for him to make Avatar.

The effects work because Jackson doesn't let them dominate the scenery, he uses it to enhance them. This is counter to George Lucas, who instead created most of the sets in his last two Star Wars pics digitally, on Green Screen. The majesty of the mountains, fields, and forests of New Zealand could not be replicated by a computer, and by seamlessly blending special effects with locations, the way they SHOULD be used, he creates a convincing Middle Earth.

And though the movie is long, and I myself have criticized it for its repeated battles, it can't be denied that the films, as a whole, together, are one solid, magnificent piece of filmmaking. True vision like that is hard to find in movies today.

My Top 10 of the 2000s: Introduction

Going back and reviewing an entire year is quite a hefty task; sometimes more then 200 movies can come out, and there is now way for any human to feasibly see them all (unless they are of course paid to see all those movies). Now, expand that to a decade, where there are thousands upon thousands of movies to take from all over the world.

Creating a top 10 list for any decade is impossible, for sure. I have a severe lack of seeing a lot of the international films that came out this year, especially some films Rainer has seen by Thailand filmmakers that sound incredible. It is quite a monumental task to make any list of ten movies (though Ebert has shattered this tradition and makes lists of twenty) that are supposed to represent the best of what the decade had to offer.

And what did come out this decade? Well, it can be remembered as the decade of the superhero movie, for sure, for it was Bryan Singer's X-Men (2000) that kindled the fire of the superhero franchise, and Sam Raimi's Spider-Man (2002) that brought the flames to a dull roar. Since then, we've had 3 Spider-Man movies, 4 X-Men movies, 1 Superman movie, 2 Batman movies, 2 Fantastic Four movies, 2 Punisher movies, graphic novel adaptations (Sin City, 300, and Watchmen), 1 Iron Man movie (next one due out in 2010), and 1 Daredevil movie, among countless others that I can't remember off the top of my head. 2007 was also the year of threes, with Spider-Man 3, Shrek 3, Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Ocean's Thirteen, Rush Hour 3, The Bourne Ultimatum, and Resident Evil 3 all coming out in a four month period. Some fun things to remember.

In following Ebert's tradition, I have comprised a list of 20 films. Numbers 20 through 11 are unranked and listed alphabetically, but numbers 10 through 1 are ranked. I'll start by releasing that second list of 10, and then tomorrow will start with the unveiling of number 10 on my list. You may ask, "How are you ready to release a top 10 list, when so much of 2009 remains unseen by you?" I have been readily trying this past year to see the rest of the films from this decade, and now I fear that I will just be trying to find the next masterpiece to put on my list, and not pay attention to the movies at all. If something in the next couple of weeks does come out that needs, absolutely needs to make the best of the decade list, then I will modify it and update you all. But really, 2009 is going to get the shaft because you don't get enough time to take in these movies. I, however, have made the judgment, based on what is coming out, that nothing else could possibly crack my top 10.

And so, without further ado, numbers 11 through 20 (ranked alphabetically) of my best of the decade:

The Dark Knight (2008)

Entre les murs (The Class) (2008)

Kill Bill (2003 - 2004)

El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth) (2006)

Memento (2000)

No Country For Old Men (2007)

Spider-Man 2 (2004)

Wall•E (2008)

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001)

Dexter: Season 4 (2009)

Warning: This review spoils content on the TV show Dexter, from Season 1 through most of 4. Please stop reading if you are not caught up on this show.

Boy, what a season of Dexter this was. After the past season's admittedly lame Miguel Prado storyline, in which Dexter tried to create a partner and was usurped by the man's utter lack of control, we get a return to the formula that I surmised was going to define the show from Season One: Dexter hunts another major serial killer. The Ice Truck Killer, a.k.a Dexter's brother Brian Moser, was Season One's big one, but otherwise there hasn't been anything of interest. Season Two shook up the formula before it was established by having Dexter himself be the hunted. And the Skinner, from Season Three, stayed in the shadows most of the time, only revealing himself at the end in a kind of lame twist on what was expected.

But that brings us to Season Four, and the decision to invent the creepiest, most effective fictional serial killer on Dexter: Trinity (John Lithgow, in an amazing performance). His cold, calculated method of three kills, one bathtub murder of a young woman, one forced suicide of a mother of two, and one bludgeoning of a father of two is a great little system. But more fascinating then the method of the serial killer is the performance by Lithgow. But more on that later.

Season Four began with Dexter dealing with his new life: father of three, married man, full time job, yet still trying to satisfy that Dark Passenger we've come to know so well (and who has been embodied by Dexter's dead foster father, Harry Morgan (James Remar)). The first two episodes alone provided some nail biters, as Dexter flubs a kill and tries to retrace his steps.

Briefly back on the scene was FBI Special Agent Frank Lundy (Keith Carradine), retired, hunting the Trinity killer because the FBI for some reason thought that the best serial killer hunter was off his rockers. Right. Regardless, it provides this season with an exciting villain, and after Lundy is offed in front of Deb (Jennifer Carpenter), and Deb herself is harmed, it leads Dexter to hunt Trinity as the suspected killer.

The show, in its first half, is fairly routine for Dexter: he repeatedly juggles family and work and killing, and slowly unveils the Trinity's identity, a.k.a. Arthur Mitchell, Christian, family man. There's a particularly annoying, but thematic subplot involving Angel Bastita (David Zayas) and LaGuerta's (Lauren Vélez) office romance. And Deb's search through her father's old CI files, while paying off in the end, takes a bit of time to get going.

But the show really takes off with the character of Arthur Mitchell. Dexter's discovery that he has a happy family (much like Dexter himself), using them as a cloak. Here, the show repeats the third season in several places, with Dexter seeking knowledge from Trinity, learning to hide himself in plain sight instead of in his very awesome apartment. This is in contrast of him seeking a friend in Miguel Prado last season. Differing, but similar storylines. That, and a repeat of Dexter killing an innocent man was leading this season towards redundant hell.

But lo and behold, in the show's Thanksgiving episode "Hungry Man," Dexter witnesses Trinity's true persona in front of his family, and the constant state of terror they live in. It was with this episode that the season really took flight, and in the last four episodes, cemented the season as, in my opinion, the second best of the show's current four seasons (Season 1 being first, 2 and 3 after).

John Lithgow is terrifying, terrific, and many other "t" adjectives. He brings life and humanity, as well as a monstrous side to the character of Arthur Mitchell, and is believable for every moment of the show, down to the end. Few actors have stood out as much as Lithgow does here, and I hope he is honored in many an awards show to come. He rightly deserves it.

But what officially cements the show is its ending. Season Two and Season Three ended on happy notes: Dexter frames someone else for his crimes, Dexter gets married. What made Season One so terrific was it ended leaving you wanting more; Dexter kills his brother, Doakes begins tailing him, and his then-girlfrend finds out her jailbird ex is telling the truth about Dexter. And this season delivers in a poignant, half-expected yet still totally surprising and devastating moment that leaves you waiting for the next season. Where Dexter will go from here is hard to say, but one knows it will be completely different from the show we've come to love these past four years. It really creates overarching themes for the whole season: it is about Dexter seeking a new life, it is about how Dexter's recklessness cost him, it is about how life is unfair. I eagerly await September 2010 with baited breath.

An Early Look at the Oscars

I usually wait to dabble in Awards hyper-mania until later, on the eve of the Oscar nominations. But, in light of recent changes to the Academy's awards set-up, the surge of top 10 lists beginning to be released, and the announcement of the Golden Globe nominees (which is more or less the official kick-off of Awards Season) next Tuesday, I thought I would share my thoughts on what I think of the current state of the Academy Awards, and who I suspect (with help from the Awards Daily people, a great site I highly recommend) could be nominated/win.

Let's start things off with the most obvious topic: Best Picture. Because the Academy has been criticized for being too "narrow," especially with their exclusion of the the second biggest movie of all time from the top prize short list (though The Dark Knight still managed to scrape in 8 nominations, more then The Reader), those snobbish, elite status members have decided to change the rules, instead allowing 10 movies to be nominated for Best Picture.

Back in the days of yore, there used to be up to 10 nominations for Best Picture, until 1944, when the rules changed and the list was shortened to five films. Now, its back to 10, and I have had reservations about this decision from the moment I heard it. While, yes, it means more movies will be nominated, it still doesn't matter because the five movies that don't have corresponding directors nominated in the Best Director category will immediately be eliminated by prognosticators, leaving the obvious short list of 5 still valid. They were still nominated, yes, but it seems more like a way for the Academy to squeeze in comedies and big budget Hollywood movies, which typically don't get nominated these days.

Of course the list of 10 opens up the high possibility that, maybe, one of the five films without a correlating director will win, and if that ever happens, then this decision would be a more exciting one. But, let's face it, very few of the 6,000 Academy members see EVERY picture nominated...and there were only five! Ten? Forget it, they are too busy. They have lives, they can't be expected to view EVERY single nominated film, while someone like me who rarely has anything to do with his January will plunder into the immense depth of the nominees. In short, it is always what is most popular, and any films sans directors will be ignored.

The 10 also takes away the enjoyable element (for me, anyways) of guessing which movies would be nominated. If there were 5, I would maybe pick Up in the Air, Precious, The Hurt Locker, Nine, and Invictus, and label An Education as the dark horse. Having only seen three of those five I still feel it is a solid list. But now the list is opened up so movies like Up, Avatar, The Lovely Bones, Inglourious Basterds, and Star Trek could could get nominations. When you have a list this dense, it really seems like the Academy is trying to be more open-minded. How about keeping it at five, and nominating Up in the Air, Up, Inglourious Basterds, The Hurt Locker, and Nine? I'd say that's a pretty varied category (also surprisingly drama-lite), but the Academy would much prefer the dark dramas...all of the them.

And at this early stage, who do I think could claim the top prize? Well, anyone who has been paying attention to Up in the Air knows that that has been garnering considerable claim, and I bet it could garner Jason Reitman his second nomination. Hell, if the movie wins, it gets his father, Ivan Reitman, an Oscar (Ivan acted as a producer), and it very well could: it's a funny, yet poignant look at a loner, and a snapshot of our current times. Is it the best of the year? I don't think so, but I've only agreed with the Academy maybe thrice this decade on what the Best Pic of the year was. I wouldn't be mad if it won, though.

As for director, probably the corresponding names to the movies mentioned above: Jason Reitman, Clint Eastwood, Lee Daniels, Kathryn Bigelow, and Rob Marshall. This could also be a year of split director/picture wins, with Eastwood winning another directing Oscar and Reitman taking Picture.

The Best Actor category at this point is pretty boring, actually. We don't have Jamie Foxx, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Daniel Day Lewis, or a Sean Penn - Mickey Rourke-level of dynamic and exciting performances. We've got Clooney for Up in the Air, Morgan Freeman for Invcitus, Matt Damon for The Informant!, Jeremy Renner for the Hurt Locker (though I am half-anticipating a snub), Daniel Day Lewis for Nine, Colin Firth for A Single Man, and maybe this Jeff Bridges movie Crazy Heart will do some business. Out of those seven potentials, though, I'd be hard pressed to pick a frontrunner at this point.

Best Actress will be the more interesting category. It will be an obvious battle between two stellar performances, Gabourey Sidibe for Precious and Carey Mulligan for her dynamic performance in An Education. Yes Meryl Streep will be nominated (when isn't she these days?), and possibly Abbie Cornish for Bright Star, Marion Cotillard for Nine, or a very dark horse would be Saoirse Ronan for The Lovely Bones. Regardless, it will be Sidibe and Mulligan battling to the end.

Supporting Actor seems to have become the new category for crazy, deranged villains. We had Javier Bardem's compressed air-tank-touting Anton Chigurh and Heath Ledger's deranged Joker. This year, two of the nominees will most likely be Christoph Waltz for his terrifying, yet exquisitely evil Nazi villain, and Stanley Tucci, as the rapist and murderer in Lovely Bones. Matt Damon for Invictus could creep in here, Woody Harrelson (for The Messenger) is starting to get the buzz, the Academy could even favor Christian McKay's turn as Orson Welles in Me and Orson Welles. This category is always the most interesting, because it is where the most diverse character actors show up.

Supporting Actress has eluded me the past couple years, so I won't say much more then guessing one or two of the six women in Nine (Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, Fergie, Judi Dench, Kate Hudson, or Sophia Loren) could show up here, Mo'Nique an an obvious frontrunner for Precious, Anna Kendrick possible for Up in the Air (I was not as enamored with her performance), and a maybe Melanie Laurent for Inglourious Basterds (she was Shoshana, and was awesome). So for who will win...Mo'Nique? Honestly, I suck at this category, so I'll stay away until I am FORCED to make a decision.

There are still a dozen or so movies left for me to see before Oscar time. December is when the most exciting, though not necessarily best, movies come out. With The Lovely Bones, Nine, Avatar, Invictus, and A Single Man, among many others, to see I am ready for the mass amount of dinero I must spend at my local cineplex.

Up in the Air (2009)

No matter how much you try, no matter how hard you push, it is almost impossible to separate yourself from people in this day and age, where cellphones, the Internet, and everything keeps us in constant communication with people in the next room to people in Australia. Most people like solitude sometimes; it is nice to break away from the crowd and spend a day alone, with your own thoughts to keep you company. And some people can't stand the idea of not being with someone 24/7.

Up in the Air's protagonist, Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) seeks solitude doing the two things that most of us dread: air travel and firing people. He works for a company which loans out its employees to corporations to fire people whose boss' just don't have the balls to do it themselves. This job isolates Ryan from people because frankly, the person who fires you is the person you hate for the rest of your life. And yet, he stays detached from human emotions, from most connections that aren't personal. Everything is business.

Ryan teaches seminars that are vague but seem to focus on what you can fit in your backpack. You start with the little things and move on up until you are stuffing your house into the backpack. His point is that you can't move, you can't take all of that with you, and that these connections are just things that tie you down. Quite a pessimistic message.

Ryan's company is shaken up when a sexy young lady fresh from Cornell, Natalie (Anna Kendrick) suggests that Internet video is a far cheaper and more efficient way of firing people then flying a bunch of people all over the country. Ryan also hooks up with another woman like him (Vera Farmiga), and learns that maybe he's ready to make a connection.

This is the third movie directed by Jason Reitman, the other two being the hipster Juno (2007) and hilarious Thank You For Smoking (2005). Up in the Air is a quieter film then those two, mainly because it doesn't deal as heavily in the comedy realm as those two films did. Smokingis a satire, and while Air and Smoking share the same basic idea (men who work in positions the rest of us find unsavory), they are both completely different.

Zach Galifianakis and J.K. Simmons both show up briefly as two of the many that get fired in this movie. Galifianakis goes nuts while Simmons questions what he is supposed to tell his kids, and what he is to do next. I actually wonder how many Americans will respond to this movie: to those who have been laid off in the last year or two, Ryan will be a villain, and some may find it hard to identify with them when they are sympathizing with the people getting fired.

The movie also has a message about life in general, about how nothing is planned and we are disappointed frequently. Natalie lists to Ryan and Alex (Farmiga) her perfect man, down to the last, exact detail. Alex, 15 years Natalie's senior, responds that you are happy with what you get, and that even balding men aren't as much of a turn off. Organization isn't key to life's happiness, and you shouldn't feel like a failure if you don't achieve all your goals.

Up in the Air is both a figurative and literal title for the movie. Clooney spends much of his time flying around, but his life is also adrift, flying about with no definite place to land. The only things certain in his life is that he will fire someone, and he will continue towards the ultimate goal he has, to achieve 10,000,000 frequent flyer miles. But the title also refers to the state someone is in after they lose their job: their financial security, their job, everything that was sound is suddenly shaken loose, and they are left up in the air.

I had the pleasure of hearing Jason Reitman give a lecture and a Q&A on the movie soon after I saw it, and one of the things he talked about was how much he is like the Ryan Bingham, insofar as their thoughts on air travel. Air travel is a place where you are completely isolated from your current world and can escape into your mind, or have conversations with people you would have never had a conversation with. And while I suspect Reitman isn't feeling the pinch of the economic climate as much as other Americans, he is connected with people who are. Stay through the end credits to hear a truly sad song that either inspired the movie's title or is based on it (I doubt the former since the film is based on a 2001 novel by the same name).

The movie is smart, but I fear its appeal will not be widespread. Some may not like it because it won't be as funny as they are expecting it to be, and some won't like it because Clooney plays a man that most Americans despise. And I feel I got everything I could out of one sitting through this movie, and wonder if anything else new will be revealed upon a second viewing. Somehow I doubt it. But this is still a solid movie, in fact, it is my favorite Jason Reitman movie to date. It's not as funny as his other two films, but it smartly balances several messages and conveys them all without ever getting heavy handed or preachy.

The Road (2009)

We have always been obsessed with the idea that the world could end at any day, for any reason. But there has been a recent surge of movies all showing the apocalypse, which many feel is near at hand in the year 2012. A movie by Roland Emmerich has been made, detailing the earth's end as being a big special effects extravaganza. That is the most notable, but there are others that exist in a world where humans don't exist.

The Road is a movie about what happens after the world ends. Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee play an unnamed father and son roaming a desolate America. Something wiped out humanity as we know it, and now the pair live in fear, scrounging whatever food they can find, and hiding from people who have turned into cannibals. In a way, its a clever way of illustrating real zombies, yet these people don't lumber around, they prowl.

The movie is based on a Cormac McCarthy novel, read by me, and a novel that stands above the movie. I have read McCarthy's other adapted work, No Country For Old Men and I can say the movie stands above the book. This movie is directed by John Hillcoat, who directed The Proposition (2005) a while back. He is a good director, but he is not a great one.

The movie inhabits a metallic palette, and beautifully conveys the look of this post-apocalypse America. Mt. St. Helen's is beautifully utilized, as the pair stumble across a lake full of trees (Spirit Lake) and dead, barren trees (any tree with a close radius of the mountain). Hillcoat does a good job of using actual locations, and color grading the look, rather then going into a studio and creating the backgrounds with green screen.

Charlize Theron is featured as the Man's wife, in flashbacks of vibrant color, reminding us of a life lived long ago. She leaves, leaving the man and son to fend for themselves, but whenever the man falls into a slumber he dreams of times with her. Robert Duvall and Guy Pearce make key appearances in the film, and Garret Dillahunt makes a fantastically effective villain.

And the performance by Mortensen is a strong, courageous one. Mortensen always seem to inject humanity into any character he plays, whether it be the doubtful King of Middle Earth, a small town killer, or Russian mobster. He is a fine actor. Smit-McPhee, who plays his son, is good for what is asked of him, but isn't astounding. He wears his emotions rather then embodies them, but by the end you can help but sympathize with his predicament.

However, despite all these good aspects, there is are major shortcomings: it isn't grim enough. The movie is really pretty good, but through its pacing, its editing, and its overall style, it doesn't quite get depressing enough. It moves quickly, and in a scene where the Man and Boy encounter a particularly grim cellar, there is no sense of shock, instead only of disgust. The movie doesn't resonate.

And the movie changes the novel's original end slightly, tacking on an extra bit of information that doesn't make any sense and is supposed to leave the audience with more hope then the book. Maybe this is the overall problem, the ending, but I remember feeling throughout the movie, "There needs to be more woe, more sorrow." Maybe Mortensen and his kid are too emotional and not somber enough, which is how I pictured the man's character anyway.

This movie is proof that an almost entirely faithful adaptation isn't the same thing as...adaptation. Adaptation is the process of change, but here the book is the shooting script. The source material must be respected, but does not have to be literally translated. You can never compare two different sources together, but you can contrast what makes them different. McCarthy's stark passages are very visual, but keep a third person perspective in the novel. In the movie, the man narrates, and I feel that was one of the unwise changes, though it works.

I encourage any moviegoer to seek this out over 2012 (2009) however. That movies looks like pure idiocy, spectacle, and no thought whatsoever. At least The Road has a vision, but it is the shadow of a movie that could have been great.

No Russian

My roommate just bought the newest first person shooter (FPS) Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The game is a standard FPS, very thrilling, very exciting, very detailed. I watched my roommate play the first three levels of the game, to see how cool it was, and upon the arriving at the third level I wondered if I would really ever want to put that game in the console again.

Now, it takes a lot to offend me. I think almost anything is OK, and love the satire level of shows like South Park, where any and all subjects are under target. I also embrace the Grand Theft Auto franchise, and have gotten much pleasure out of finding and killing the virtual policeman, and hiring virtual hookers to later kill them and take their money. I enjoy the FPS, where you have to fight an enemy combatant and take down the other team.

But in Modern Warfare 2 I witnessed a level that has offended me more then anything else in recent memory. Be warned, I will openly discuss this entire level, and if you would rather be shocked by it yourself, I say go ahead. It kind of has to be experienced first hand to really get a sense of the shock of the level.

It is preceded by a cutscene, in which whatever character you are playing as (the game jumps between different characters) is informed by his boss that he has been infiltrated into a Russian Mob group or something. Basically, this guy is The Departed level undercover, and can't do anything to blow it. The game warns you at the beginning that this level is controversial and you can skip it, but honestly it should tell what is going to happen in the level, because your curiosity is immediately peaked and it is your natural urge to find out, first hand, what this level is all about.

It opens quite calmly, with you and four of your Russian terrorist buddies entering what my roommates and I originally assumed to be bank, and drew the conclusion of bank robbery. Suddenly, the four terrorists open fire onto all the innocent civilians standing in line at what we realized was a security screening for an airport! Only then did I realize where this level was going.

You spend most of the level slowly walking through the airport, like the Columbine kids or anyone else, quickly picking off any and all innocent civilians you can find, lobbing grenades into elevators and committing mass murder against everyone. My roommate was so shocked that he refused to fire any rounds unless it was necessary, which it did become when actual armed policeman showed up.

Now, you may be asking, and I am asking myself this too, why does killing random virtual people in GTA not bother me at all, but when I get to MW2 I am sickened by what I am seeing? Well, this is what I think goes into it: GTA is violence on such a ridiculous level that you can't believe it will ever happen. When you walk up to someone, shoot them, and then run, it seems comical, and then you just spend a good deal of time running from the police and you either escape or die. Eventually, though, you do die, it is probably this reason alone that I have no qualms about random killings in GTA.

I also have no problems with killing adversaries in FPS because, well, they are armed and trying to kill me. I have to fight back, and it adds a level of exhilaration to the whole thing.

But here, there is no enjoyment to be had. It happens so unexpectedly that it shocks you, but it also conjures up memories of Virginia Tech and Columbine, and also the fact that this really could happen. It really could! So then why is this a video game level? Yes, you are warned to skip the level, and in the inevitable case I do play MW2 I will just select that option so I don't have to deal with it. But you are not told what you are missing, and curiosity will drive you mad (though you could look it up on the Internet).

I visited message boards to gauge people's reactions to this level and got the two expected sides: shocked and disgusted, and then people who just let the bullets fly on the innocents. The main argument from those who "enjoy" the level is that it isn't real, it isn't happening, so it is not bad at all. In fact, many have argued that it is no worse then what has been put on film. But just because it isn't real, doesn't mean it shouldn't effect us; I believe the game designers intended that level to effect the player on a different level then one would be expected to feel normally about a video game.

Now for the real kicker of the level: after spending five minutes killing innocents and then blowing apart guards, you are about to make your escape, when the Russians reveal they know you are undercover and shoot you in the head. The whole point of the mission was to maintain your cover, and instead it was blown all along! It's a great point of discussion, to be sure, but it just leaves you with a big feeling of "what was the point of that level?"

What was the point? To my understanding, that character hadn't been introduced at any point in the game. His role was completely irrelevant, nothing was furthered, and you watched hundreds of innocents die. Plus, if the CIA had a man undercover, and knew this attack was going to happen, would they really let it carry out just for the sake of continuing their agent's cover? Sadly I think the answer is yes, and 24 has posed weird questions like these in past seasons.

In the end, some may call me a pussy for finding the level disgusting, and I say go ahead. I like knowing I have some moral reservations about SOME things these days, which frankly is saying a lot because we live in a world where we have been desensitized to the point where airport murder levels are acceptable. Sometimes we need to pull back the reins a bit and evaluate what the point of that really is.

A Serious Man (2009)

Dark is a word you could use to describe this film; cynical is another. Comedic, maybe. They are all appropriate expressions of probably what is the Coen's most curious recent work to date. It's not fanciful like Raising Arizona (1987) or The Big Lebowski (1998), but its less cynical then No Country For Old Men (2007) and less comedic then Fargo (1996).

The movie is, at its bare bones, an adaptation of the Book of Job, and if you don't know that story, read it and find out what horrible things God will do to you to make you prove your fate. Much the same happens here, as Larry Gobnik's (Michael Stuhlbarg) life begins to spiral out of control, beginning with his wife asking for a divorce, and the incessant arrogance of everyone around him. He seeks help from three rabbis, who offer some interesting, but useless, insight.

You'll leave the movie with mixed emotions on it, I guarantee it, but this movie is meticulously and somewhat ingeniously constructed so that a single viewing, I think, may not be enough to really take in and understand all the movie has to offer and is trying to say. Most of the Coen's movies are about people who get in bad situations and things deteriorate until it ends badly for them. In Fargo, Jerry Lundegaard (a decidedly unsympathetic character) sinks deeper and deeper into a quagmire of his ransom, and in No Country For Old Men (2007), Llewelyn Moss continues playing his cat-and-mouse game with the unstoppable Anton Chigurh.

Here, however, is a man who you assume has done the best with his life and who really doesn't deserve to undergo the unraveling chaos his life is hurled into. Larry is the kind of man who doesn't stand up for himself, who lets others wash over him, as his wife begins discussing marrying an older man, Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed). Sy is the kind of man much akin to Peter Sarsgaard's character in An Education (2009); though not good looking, he is charming and reassuring, while being a complete slimebag underneath it all.

You almost forget there is a ten-minute opening sequence which tells the story of a Jewish man and his wife on a cold winter night encounter what she believes to be a Dybbuk, which, Wikipedia helpfully explains, is a soul that possesses someone's body, a soul that did not fulfill their life's purpose. Though the question is left unanswered: was this man really a Dybbuk?

I will not pretend to know what the opening is supposed to mean, but I have my theory: it lays out the rest of the movie to come, and the movie's eventual sudden ending. But maybe I'm completely off base on this one, and will delve into the many theories other's may have on IMDb or other message boards (sometimes IMDb message boards can be enlightening, sometimes they can be a sad example of what our country has come to).

The technical aspects of this movie are superb, from Roger Deakins' Cinematography to Roderick Jaynes' editing. The movie constructs a few terrific intercut sequences, paralleling either a doctor check-up and a Yiddish lesson, or two simultaneous car crashes, to the movie's powerful and sudden ending.

I really look forward to seeing this movie again. I think it is a fair step up from Joel & Ethan's previous venture, Burn After Reading (2008) which I feel is just an excuse for a slideshow of big stars to be in the same movie, doing ridiculous things. No, this movie is not gut-bustingly funny, but it lingers with you, and is a movie you will enjoy discussing and pondering. I really look forward to seeing it again.

M (1931)

I have seen Fritz Lang's M only twice now, but it is a movie I grossly underestimated, or forgot about, the first time around. This is a movie of profound power, that has the ability to challenge you with one viewpoint, and then unexpectedly turn things around on you and force you to view everything from a new, different perspective.

Petter Lorre is Hans Beckert, an elusive, anti-social young man who is a pedophile. Much beyond that, he also kills his victims, and this act causes such an uproar in the streets of the unnamed German city that police begin raiding bars to find him. Eventually he is found, but many great sequences lead up to this revelation.

First is the opening sequence, a simple yet powerfully done sequence in which children are shown playing, and then the faceless Beckert strides up and offers to buy a young girl a balloon, all the while whistling Edvard Grieg's Hall of the Mountain King. No gratuitous acts against the young girl are shown; instead, we simply get a shot of a balloon stuck in wires, and a ball rolling to a stop in the grass.

The movie descends into much of the first half as a standard police procedural, as the cops try desperately to find who this pervert is, working hours of overtime and getting 90% false leads. A unique spin comes from the German Underworld, who are getting so fed up by the constant police raids that they decide they must find Beckert themselves and end this once and for all.

M to me really speaks to German cinema in the early years of film, and solidifies my belief that they were they best filmmakers of the day. Robert Wiene helped define German Expressionism with The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), and F.W. Murnau (Nosferatu, Sunrise) and G.W. Pabst (Pandora's Box) have turned out the greatest works from those early days. Not to mention Erich von Stroheim (Greed). And Fritz Lang essentially invented the science fiction genre with Metropolis (1927), another film I'd love to revisit because it has been so many years.

It is then sad that Adolf Hitler not only led the greatest genocide in history, but also destroyed the German filmmaking industry for Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda films. Fritz Lang had to leave his native Germany and went to America, and never directed anything notable ever again. But here is a film full of invention, tackling a subject that will always be grisly and unpleasant.

Two other remarkable scenes include: a scene where Beckert, driven mad by his desire to kill children, finds another suspect and whistles merrily the Mountain King. He is recognized by a blind man, and is marked by a young man with an M on his shirt. This shot, as Beckert turns and realizes what is on his coat, is one of the definitive shots in movie history. The realization that dawns on Lorre's wide eyes speak volumes about the danger he knows he is in.

Finally, the last scene in the film is altogether another remarkable piece of virtuoso filmmaking. Captured by the German Underworld, Beckert is put on trial in front of not just mobsters but many citizens from Germany up above. One man is assigned to Beckert's defense, and two powerful speeches are delivered: the first comes from Beckert. Writhing on the ground, he screams that the urge to commit this horrible acts is something he can't control. Here, Peter Lorre lets loose with the character and screams for mercy, because he really is insane, he really can't control the urges.

The second speech comes from his "lawyer" who states that, yes, this man has committed these awful crimes, and that he should be left to the police, not killed by the mob of angry people standing at this mock trial. A strange thing happens during these two speeches: you actually feel sorry for the pathetic little man, writhing on the floor. Not empathy, for anyone who does may need to be checked out themselves, but a small grain of sympathy is shed for this unworthy man.

In America and indeed maybe most other places in the world in the 30s, you wouldn't find a movie that explored such dark and resonant themes as these. I love classic Hollywood pictures, but something has to be said for the mundanity of most of their plots. You see where they are all going, its just how are they going to get there. But in Germany particularly, anti-heroes and antagonists were getting plenty of attention, and it is a shame that Hitler rose to power, because of the War and genocide, and also the destruction of many more potentially great films.

Footnote: The movie ends by stating that the current version of the film, which runs 110 minutes, is still an incomplete form of the movie. Like with so many other pictures in that day, scenes were edited out and that footage was lost. Still, the edition that exists in lovely Criterion transfers is well worth the watch.

Antichrist (2009)

I have only seen one other film by Lars von Trier, and that was Dancer in the Dark (2000) starring Björk. Dogville (2003) is the next movie I'm going to take on of his, but there seems to be a recurring theme or whatever of crazy women in his movies. Though Björk was a tragic figure, She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is fucking insane.

The movie is divided into six sections, an Epilogue and Prologue which are beautifully shot in black and white and underscored with a Handel aria, and then four chapters, Grief, Pain, Despair, and the Three Beggars. What these segments all mean is pretty obvious, by the end anyways, and make the film more or less ambiguous, depending on who you are.

But let me rewind and tell you what the movie is about. Simply, it opens with He (Willem Dafoe) and She having graphic sex while their son decides it is pertinent to jump out a second-or-third story window, which leads to his death. She goes nuts, unable to cope with the guilt that she could have prevented this death and did nothing. He is a therapist of some kind, and decides that her fears lie in Eden, a place in woods where they go.

The film's prologue and first two chapters are actually pretty good, I guess. The film rarely dips into a lot of graphic nature in the first half, save a wolf and deer, and sex, but is an interesting avant-garde therapist movie. Her feet burn in the forest, He makes Her walk between stones, and good ol' therapy sessions abound. This stuff isn't very riveting either, though.

The second half is more riveting, and a lot worse then the first half. She goes nuts, attacks Him, and everything spirals out of control. Chaos Reigns, as the cute fox says at the conclusion of Chapter 2, and indeed it does here. The movie is needlessly graphic, and while I was cringing during certain genital mutilation scenes, it never effected my in the way I think it wanted to. Hearing all the critic's reactions from its Cannes and subsequent screenings, I was expecting something that would rock me to my core, leave me traumatized, and effect me in some way.

The movie gets kudos, overall, for its cinematography (Anthony Dod Mantle) and the courageous lead performances by Dafoe and Gainsbourg. This movie gets worse in my mind as time goes on, but I cannot deny that they gave great performances. Sadly, it was in a movie that is much more boring then it would like you to think. It wants you to think it is brave, bold, daring, and exploring deep themes, when really it can be summed up as one of the ultimate anti-feminist films of all time.

It's amazing that I have to sum this movie up as overall being very...boring. All the problems in the film come from von Trier himself, and while I commend him for going out and trying something different, I reprimand him for not having any clear ideas about what he was trying to achieve. The significance of Eden is so painfully obvious, and the way She parallels the great vixens of mythology, Eve and Pandora, is ridiculous.

The reason I saw this movie in the first place was because it divided the general opinion of it. It ended up on a film critic poll as one of the Best and Worst movies at Cannes. How do you not see that movie? I won't discourage the truly curious to not go see it; you should seek it to at least experience it for yourself and decide where you stand. But to everyone else, who has no idea what this movie is, and how no idea what they would be in for, I say, stay as far away as possible.

Not Rated, but it contains several graphic sex scenes, genital mutilation, and animal abuse. Not real animals, animatronics. But still.

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

As the final shot of the movie faded out, and the credits began to roll, I started to absorb what I had seen, process what I had heard, and interpret how I felt. But it was all quickly summed up by the old lady who was sitting behind, who said, "That movie almost made me cry."

I do not clearly remember Maurice Sendak's 1963 story book, on which this is based. That book contains 338 words, I guess, and this movie contains 101 minutes. How you expand a book that you could read in under a minute to a full length feature that explores all the emotions and turmoils of childhood is a sight to behold and fall in love with.

The plot is thin, but basically tells the story of young Max (Max Records) who likes to play, but who also is somewhat ignored by his older sister. When his mother and he have a disagreement, he runs away, and enters his imaginary world via a little boat. There he meets the Wild Things, voiced by an all-star cast including James Gandolfini, Lauren Ambrose, Catherine O'Hara, Chris Cooper, Forest Whitaker, and Paul Dano. Gadolfini is the only one I was able to recognize, and the rest disappeared into the fur and feathers of their characters.

The movie is a dark one, especially for one intended for children. I believe the movie will scare children, but it will not scare them in a horror film-kind-of-way; at a horror film, you experience empty, meaningless scares which hold no emotional resonance and that you can shake off later (save the few great masterpieces of horror). This will scare kids because it bleeds with truth, and is something that will resonate with any grown-up or child. I say it is scary, but I don't say that meaning kids won't like it. They will. People don't give kids enough credit for being able to understand deeper, more thematic issues.

The CGI in this film is incredible because it serves the story and enhances everything around it, something I wish more filmmakers would pay attention to. The Wild Things exist, are in fact people in fur costumes, but the faces are CGI, and that is what is important. It allows young Max, who is quite incredible in this movie, to be able to act off these characters because they exist for him as they do for us. He doesn't have to pretend that these things exist and hope that the emotion comes through later.

And the performances are all around magnificent, from little Max to all the voice cast who add so much depth and emotion to their characters that you love each and every Wild Thing, for all their flaws and attributes. And though I kept thinking of Tony Soprano whenever Carol, the main Wild Thing talked, I eventually forgot Soprano because this is a different character completely. The Wild Things are kids themselves, and that is what makes this movie so beautiful.

Because really, it is all in Max's head, everything that goes on. Or maybe it isn't. Who knows. The movie is beautiful because it is so honest about childhood, and I kept having memories flood through my brain of events in my past that oddly mirrored what happened in this film. Max claims to have magic that slips through the cracks, and gets into an argument with Judith (O'Hara) about how there is nothing that can plug up the cracks. And a dirt clod match ends with Alexander (Paul Dano) calling time-out, but still getting attacked and getting upset. And when Max tells Carol how the sun will eventually die. These are all just a few scenes that make up a greater movie.

And this kid's film is one-in-a-million because it is quite drab, it's colors primarily browns, blacks, and whites, and not as vivid as what our ADD addled youths are used to these days. Like Pixar, it ignored making the pop culture references and focuses on characters and story, and that is what kids and adults want more then anything. Warner Bros. should be commended for sticking with this project, and letting Spike Jonze, who's only other feature credits include the incredible Being John Malkovich (1999) and Adaptation (2002) (both Charlie Kaufman scripts) run wild with his imagination. So far he's only made three films, and I consider all three to be spectacular. Whatever Jonze does next, I'll be paying attention.

Rated PG, contains many dark themes and a limb dismemberment.

What's Left for The Office?

I rarely do this, break off from film and review something television show related, especially when that television has only started its season. But The Office had a very important episode this past Thursday: Jim and Pam finally tied the knot.

This may sound like the ramblings of someone who has probably spent too much time watching this show, but I feel it is important to "blog" about it because Jim and Pam's relationship has been the emotional thrust of the show, the center story that the rest of the series has more or less revolved. I had always imagined the show ending with Jim and Pam's wedding, but now it has happened a mere four episodes into the show's sixth season.

Which begs the question: what's left for the Office? This show now almost feels over to me, as everything is fairly routine and, as the past season indicated, whenever something gets shaken up it just resolves itself simply a few episodes later (Pam moving to NY for school, Michael and Pam quitting Dunder-Mifflin). Jim has been promoted to co-manage with Michael Scott, and while the episode "The Promotion" hilariously detailed the way these two play off each other, I also feel it is a device that will become tired very soon.

The only thing left, I guess, is for Michael Scott to find his true happiness, which it seems he may be on the way to discovering considering who he hooks up with at the end of the wedding. But there is no satisfying way to wrap up each character's story lines. Pam is going to have a baby, another exciting prospect I guess. What I'm trying to say is this needs to be the show's final season. Can you really imagine a 7th season of the Office, where Pam and Jim are parents?

To comment on the wedding episode briefly, I thought it was an effective combo of hilarity and sappiness that worked for me. The dance at the end was, I guess, also kind of stupid, but it worked for me in that stupid kind of way. I haven't seen the YouTube video that inspired it, but I probably won't seek it out. The Office's interpretation was a fitting way for Jim and Pam to get married, I guess.

Die Büchse der Pandora (1929) (Pandora's Box)

It is curious how, back in the day, some directors (particularly German ones) structured their films into Acts. There is not set number of acts, it was just how many you needed and what fit. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) has six acts, and Pandora's Box (1929) has eight. Why? No reason really, it was just what director Georg Wilhelm (G.W.) Pabst required for his film.

Pandora's Box is a curious little film. Twice I have now seen it, and I will not deny that through many of the first six acts I became a little wearisome of it, waiting for it to pick up its pace and continue on. But the last two acts are so engaging and full of drama that they make up for some of the slower moments in the earlier parts.

What really magnetizes the film together, though, is Louise Brooks, who stars as the main character Lulu. She has a presence that I do not think I have seen equaled by any other silent screen actress. When she is on screen, she is magnetic, transfixing you with her odd haircut that seems to accentuate her soft features (made possible through soft focus, of course). She is absent for most of the film's second act, and it suffers without her.

The plot can not really be summarized in a sensible way, but essentially it is about Lulu, her seductive power over men, and how she sinks deeper and deeper into despair. She begins by seeing "clients", and her most reliable is an old man who at one point claims to be her father, but you are sure he could not be.

She is put into a show and, through a series of events becomes involved in an accidental murder, goes on the run, and ends in one of the best scenes of silent cinema as she unwittingly invites Jack the Ripper into her run down living place. Her beauty stops the Ripper from using his knife, but soon he succumbs, and Lulu's hand goes limp.

Whenever I watch a silent movie, I find I usually tune out the track that Criterion or whomever has composed specifically for it. Of course the music effects my perception of what is happening on screen in a purely visceral level, but in my head I usually create other atmospheres to go along with what is happening. In act seven, in a scene at a bar I imagine glasses clinking and people cheerily talking, or when Lulu succumbs to Jack the Ripper I imagine her last breath escaping her lips.

That is probably the most interesting aspect of silent movies: they are the most pure form of film there is, because without the noisy scores, they are just film. And they seem the most fitting version of the format because film is in and of itself an illusion of rapid images creating fluid movement. Sound, of course, has made films better and a great sound design will enhance and enrich the movie. But there is something about letting the movie tell its own story, and silent movies are challenging for any person in today's society.

And Pandora's Box is a film that would only work in silence. If these characters spoke, the situations would be come ridiculous, outrageous, and downright silly. But here, melodrama is straight drama. Few films would only work in silence, and here is one of them. Anything by the silent clowns Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplain, and Harold Lloyd I would also include in that category.

The title of the film refers to a Greek myth, about a woman named Pandora who like Lulu was beautiful and happy. The gods gave her a box, and told her never to open it up. Sadly the curious thing did, and unleashed greed, sadness, anger, and a bevy of ill feelings upon our world. That Lulu mirrors this character is without saying, and that she unwittingly spreads lust and greed makes this one of the most unique adaptations of Greek Mythology.

This film, while dull in a few areas, is ultimately a beautiful work of silent filmmaking at its peak, when sound films were permeating every inch of American cinema. Louise Brooks alone makes the movie worthwhile, and stands out for me as one of the most unique films from the silent era.

Capitalism: A Love Story (2009)

"I don't think I can do this anymore. Those of you watching in the theaters must go out and act. And please, hurry up."

These are more or less the words that Michael Moore uses to close his latest documentary, Capitalism: A Love Story. They are urgent words, asking us, the American people, to step up and do something about corporate greed. Of all of the films Mr. Moore has ever made, this is the one he's been really waiting to do, and examines a subject that we really shouldn't be idle on much longer.

Mr. Moore's movie is scattered all over the place, though. The economic system, our meltdown, capitalism, is such a huge topic, that it would take three or four hours to fully cover the entire subject effectively. With the two hours he has, Mr. Moore presents effective and not-so-effective arguments for...well, I'm actually not sure what he is arguing for exactly. The downfall of capitalism? The uprising of socialism? Neither, I think, but maybe for corporations to stop being greedy...

The movie follows Mr. Moore's usual tactics of trying to meet with CEOs and being denied by security guards. You almost feel sorry for those guys having to deal with what the CEOs should come down and face (though that is what security guards are for). And there are scenes of weeping Americans, and yes, it is pretty horrifying that anywhere from seven to nine police cars show up to evict a family from their house.

Probably one of Mr. Moore's best examples of capitalism run amok comes in a story about a Pennsylvania Juvenile Detention Facility, where kids are sent there for nearly a year for doing crimes as petty as setting up MySpace pages joking about how the Assistant Principal sucks. That the judge is paid millions for sentencing these kids (none had a chance, as several of them recall) is a crime too horrific to be true, but it is.

Another very shocking revelation comes in life insurance policies taken out by companies on their employees, so that if an employee dies unexpectedly, the company will be the primary benefactor in that employees death. Even more offensive is that this practice is referred to as "Dead Peasant Insurance." How is this legal? It was explained, I think, but Mr. Moore points out that it shouldn't be because it's the same principle as taking at a claim against your house burning down because then you would want...that house to burn down!

And if you really want to get pissed off all over again at the bailout, perfect for you because it happens again. Though what pisses me off most about the bailout is that there was never anything stipulating how the money was supposed to be handled. So AIG gave it's employees bonuses and sent its CEOs or whatever on multi-million dollar vacations.

Mr. Moore doesn't offer many solutions, but there is one shining example of the Chicago factory workers whose building was shut down with only 3 days notice, and no severance given to any of the hardworking employees. Those employees refused to leave the factory until Bank of America came down and resolved the issue. It's uprises like that that show how much power the average American holds. We just don't realize yet.

Probably the most chilling section of the movie comes from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's final State of the Union address, which he gave via radio because he was too sick to do it public. However, he had the cameras film him saying that he proposed a second bill of rights in which every American would have the right to a home, a job, healthcare, and education.

I find the musings of both liberals and conservatives on the issue of Michael Moore amusing. Most commonly he attacks the Republicans, but he is also a strong critic of Bill Clinton, and though he sings the high heavens to Barack Obama in the movie, he would easily turn on Obama as well. People have different outrageous opinions, but here is a movie that I think you can't highly disagree with, at least on the most basic level. That corporate greed has run amok is no secret, that Citigroup planned to take over the world back in 2004 should have been reason enough to tear their building down brick by brick, and that our money that was supposed to fix the economy has been mainly used to benefit CEOs, and has not reciprocated to us, should cause us to march on Wall Street and demand, like Mr. Moore, every cent of our $700 billion back.

Häxan (1922)

Silent films, to me, represent a very unique time in film's history; this is the time when the job of director, producer, and screen actor was being developed, and it is amazing that films back then were more daring then any single film you usually get in a year in this millennium. Filmmakers back then explored the newest possibilities, particularly the German Expressionists who were probably the best Silent Filmmakers (F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang, Erich von Stroheim, and Robert Wiene are among the best from that time).

Häxan is such a silent movie, adventurous, daring, trying new things, but it is also one of the only films that defies any convention, any labeling. It is part documentary, part drama, part comedy, and part horror. Yet this movie comes from a Danish director, not a German one, and exemplifies the limitless boundaries of the imagination from that time.

The movie is told in seven parts, though most of them really don't mark the ending of one story. Chapter One is basically a slideshow, as director Benjamin Christensen shows us a lot of researched history on the paranoia of people from the Middle Ages that led to their belief in Witches (Häxan translates, more or less, to The Witches). We get drawings that illustrate hell, where demons put the damned into cauldrons (I couldn't help but notice one of the cauldrons was marked "Judei"), and hot metal liquid is poured down the damned's throat.

Part Two on is mainly recreated scenarios involving witches actually existing. We see the horrible hags in their coven, plundering dead thieves' bodies from the gallows and using their remains in potions. One witch requests a love potion and we get two imagined scenes in which a portly brother of the church chases the witch, madly in love with her.

The film also highlights how witches were ousted: being thrown, naked, into a pond to determine their witchhood. If they floated, they were recovered from the pond and burned; if they sank, the fathers would thank God for sparing this girl's soul (though no remark is made as to whether this woman is rescued).

The only part of the movie I would call a running story, or thread, comes when a man falls ill and his wife blames witchcraft. An old woman stops by for food, and the wife immediately has her arrested by the church, who proceed to torture a confession out of her. And she describes the Witches' mass.

The Witches' mass is introduced to us in the film's first chapter, and it is mainly something you kind of have to see to really grasp how paranoid everyone was back then. To partake, the women fly high up into the sky to some castle and garden, and proceed to frolic with the devil and his minions. Probably the most significant moment of this movie involves the witches proceeding one by one to the devil and placing a kiss on his derrière. This marks them as witches, and allows them to continue on their evil wicked ways.

What message this movie is trying to put out, what lesson it is trying to teach is unclear to me. I was never certain if the director believed all the findings he researched, or he was merely laughing at how paranoid everyone was back then, and how that paranoia made everything a reality. Really, he seems to be presenting the second part as his main point, but he also has conviction in the scenes involving the witches.

The movie breaks the fourth wall a lot, and in Chapter 6 or 7, the director mentions that the actress who played Maria the Weaver (Maren Pedersen, another witch) turned to the director during shooting and said, "The Devil is real. I have seen him sitting at my bedside." Her conviction in this story is resolute, which is why Mrs. Pedersen probably partook of this film.

This film was made before there were conventions and clichés in film. There were no definite rules of story that we learn today in our classes, and Häxan is a movie breathing with life and invention from its director's limitless research on the subject of Witchcraft in the Middle Ages. Even by today's standards I would say this film is very daring and I have really never seen anything like it in all the other movies I have ever seen.

50 Years of Janus

Recently I have gained access the Janus Box Set of 50 films, some of the greatest works ever made, and some that I have never heard of. Surmounting the task of going through 50 films is no small undertaking, but I have decided to make going through this list a little more interesting. I will write a review for every movie I see from the box set, including the movies I have already seen. There will be no set time when these reviews come out, they will just occur when I get around to seeing the next film. I have also decided to proceed through the set in Chronological order, so as to experience the evolution of film from 1922 to 1979. So tonight I watch the first movie in the set, Häxan.

At the Movies: Revised

Last week saw the premiere episode of At the Movies, the long running review show that Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel started in the 70s, that continued with Roeper, and was eventually passed onto the two Bens, Lyons and Mankiewicz.

Now, the show has returned to its roots: journalists, this time A.O. Scott and Michael Phillips, and what a blessing and relief this return was. When Roeper finally signed off, the two Bens took over, and ushered in what could have been a perpetual dark age of movie criticism. The show was focused more on glamor and sound bite reviews rather then thoughtful discussions on the movies. Ben Lyons, who is the film expert over at E! Entertainment, received the blunt end of the criticism because he was, well, a child.

Ben Lyons had declared the previous winter that I Am Legend was one of the greatest movies ever made, and maybe we were all being a little too mean to him for that claim. Of course, you are asking for it when you are essentially saying something is up there in the league of Citizen Kane or Seven Samurai. His reviews were awful, focusing mainly on deconstructing the plot for the viewer and then offering a surface level take on the movie. Mankiewicz was no better, really, but at least he had the air of knowing film, having hosted segments at Turner Classic Movies.

But somehow there is an invaluable lesson in writing movie reviews rather then quickly throwing out your opinion. You become stronger as a writer and learn to articulate your points better as time goes on, something neither of the Bens could do. With New York Times critic A.O. Scott and Chicago Tribune critic Michael Phillips now helming the show, you know you are at least getting the opinion of someone who can express it thoughtfully.

In viewing the first episode, I was happy to see the two journalists reviewing the films, with A.O. Scott even reviewing the movie The Burning Plain in the jumbled fashion the movie is apparently assembled in. Yet, these guys seem like good acquaintances and not yet at the point where they can spar with each other. They never directly disagreed with each other, with every movie getting two skip its, see its, and a rent it with another of those options. There is a beauty to going back and watching Ebert and Siskel disagree heavily on Baby's Day Out and the way they attack each other. Right now, the show feels like it needs to deconstruct that last layer to get these two really butting heads, and hopefully we'll get some good stuff in the coming year.

But, for the time being, the show At the Movies has been reinstated into its rightful place, and I look forward to watching this show again, as I stopped watching it when the Bens dominated the airwaves.

World's Greatest Dad (2009)

To put it lightly, World’s Greatest Dad may be one of the most shocking things I have every seen. Not shocking in a “look at how much torture I can throw your way,” but in a “people really act like this” kind of way.

Robin Williams, in his best role for quite some time, plays Lance Clayton, a poetry high school teacher whose course is suffering, whose girlfriend keeps blowing him off, and whose son is the greatest monster to walk the earth (Daryl Sabara, no longer a cute Spy Kid). When tragedy strikes, Lance somehow finds it is the greatest thing that every happened to him.

I don’t want to talk too much about this film because that would give away so much of what makes it so special. In the last month we have had some great trailers, for movies like District 9, Inglourious Basterds, and In the Loop which intrigue you but don’t tell you too much about the film. World’s Greatest Dad has another spectacular trailer that undersells the movie. It’s probably the blackest comedy I’ve ever seen.

I do feel the movie gets carried away in its second half, blowing everything to its biggest possible extreme, but it also feels strangely authentic. I urge those who haven’t seen the movie to stop reading and go see it now, for I fear cannot continue without spoiling the best parts of the film.

The movie is a great study in our morbid fascination with the dead, especially when death comes unexpectedly. In the worst people you remember the best parts about them, and lay them to rest in the most delicate and painless way possible. This movie feels like writer and director Bobcat Goldthwait reacted so strongly to the public’s reaction to Michael Jackson’s sudden death that he went out and made this movie. It has a certain timely and timeless quality about it.

When Michael Jackson died, everyone was stunned, because he was only 50. Farrah Fawcett’s death earlier that day came with smaller impact because it was known she would die, but people didn’t focus on someone who was probably a genuinely nice person, and instead focused on the pre-white Michael Jackson. From recent years until his death, the public hated Jackson, and when he died, he was our hero.

The same applies to this movie. It is so twisted, so morbid, yet so true. The movie is set in Seattle, but you would only know that if you were a Seattleite. The movie never tells you, but one wonders if there is some deliberation in setting it there. Williams walks out of the Guild 45^th and stares at a magazine stand downtown. Yet this made me happy, made me feel like there was an extra something in this movie for me. There are no shots of the Space Needle or of downtown at large, and the High School is no school I know of. But it is an interesting, deft touch.

People will go to see this maybe expecting a Disney comedy. When I first saw the poster, that’s what crossed my mind. This is a movie you are either totally for or really against, but no matter where you stand on the quality of the movie, you cannot dispute its important message about our culture and our times.