(Don't mind this, folks, just moving my posts from the Top 10 of 2011 Thread to this one)
the Adjustment Bureau (George Nolfi) An unbelievably silly film, but it's all so ridiculous that you either go with it in a goofy way or just get frustrated to the point of murderous rage. Most will go the latter route, I suspect. I await the ridiculous internet memes centered around the plot holes in the film that are no doubt soon to come.
Bridesmaids (Paul Feig) Very amusing crowd-pleaser with a game comic performance by Kristen Wiig, who clearly knows how to write to her own strengths. Not a lot to say about a film like this beyond just listing the justly memorable comedic set pieces (my favorite was the parade of illegal car acts near the end, if just for how Wiig expertly beats the idea into the ground). Another populist all-audience flick I can happily pull off the shelf for pickier guests.
Ces amours-là (Claude Lelouch) I should have known better than to expect anything but maudlin schmaltz from Lelouch, but fool me seventeen times, shame on me... The film starts to right itself towards the end, when it turns into a musical and begs the question why the whole thing couldn't have been sung, though. The self-reflexive moments are pretty clumsy and pretty much cement now just as then how Lelouch had no business being mentioned in the same breath as the Nouvelle Vague-- those were pics made by lovers of great films, his are a product of shitty ones.
Crazy, Stupid, Love. (Glenn Ficarra and John Requa) It really must be the best year for American movies in God knows how long when even populist fluff like this is so much better than it needed to be. Showing a real humanist spirit beneath the romantic comedy veneer, this is a very funny and charming date movie that ticks off all the marks one would ever want in a film of this fashion.
Drive Angry (Patrick Lussier) Grindhouse as envisioned by Maxim Magazine. Seeing it in close proximity with some of my half-remembered basic cable darlings helps with the enjoyment factor-- this is not the work of an aesthetic auteur, but it has an oddly good-natured and laid-back charm for such an absurd glorification of violence geared die-rectly at the targeted frat house contingent. Not a soul on screen is taking this entertaining exercise in excess the least bit seriously. William Fichtner, as ever, steals the show by intentionally mis-inflecting his lines, and while I'm not familiar with Amber Heard's oeuvre (which I assume is primarily of the Wearing Tank Tops and Short-Shorts genre), there's probably no actress alive who could say a line like "I fucking hate devil worshippers! Who do they think they are?" (paraphrased, but within spitting distance) with a straight-face, so it's hard to blame her awkward dialog deliveries. It also doesn't help when you're acting against lines like "I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to defile your corpse" (which, let me assure you, is
not paraphrased)
Hesher (Spencer Sussman) The question of why this one had so much trouble getting distributed doesn't take very long to get answered once the movie starts. This is the kind of repellant film that is so proud of its ugliness, so gleeful in its idiotic naughtiness, that it can't be bothered to deign the viewer with any reason for its own existence. No, the mere fact that such vulgar trash exists at all is vindication enough, I suppose, now let's dig in and see how deeeeep this shit truly is! It's anyone's guess what fine young actors like JGL and Natalie Portman saw in this repulsive indie exercise in daring the viewer to stop watching.
Higher Ground (Vera Farmiga) Well-made (if a bit MOR) character piece tracking one woman's life of faith through all its stages. I liked the little moments of observant behavior, like the friendly neighborhood pastor awkwardly meeting with the men of the church to listen to a series of audio tapes on how God wants husbands to manually stimulate their wives' clitorises, or how Farmiga's character will legitimately lapse into theologically-derived conversation at the slightest opportunity. The film does suffer from some actor-turned-director insecurities (those fantasy sequences were flawed with Paul Newman made
Rachel Rachel and they certainly haven't aged well here), but I appreciated the intelligent and not overly judgmental approach toward Christianity and the performances are right.
the Ides of March (George Clooney) A strong, mature film that nevertheless doesn't seem to be saying anything new or anything familiar in a new way. The disillusionment storyline progresses in an unexpected direction and flirts with being a nice Mamet-esque story of intrigue and betrayal before settling into a more conventional if still involving plot of political maneuvers. The whole endeavor seems a few jolts short of actually starting up the consternation it wants to ignite.
Insidious (James Wan) Another interesting pic I never would have sought out were it not popping up on some of the other lists here. Wan has a talented eye for the theatrics of suspense and generally any of the "scare" moments that are not derailed by assorted "jump" hokum are first-rate-- he has great control of atmosphere, less so of any of the realities of the scares he teases. If he'd focused entirely on the intangible threats and forsaken the ill-defined spectral world the film devolves into, this might have been a great film. As is, it's still a much better horror excursion than I'd have ever expected from the "auteur" behind
Saw.
Jane Eyre (Cary Fukunaga) Superior nth adaptation of the Brontë novel that manages to evoke a sense of place, nature, and atmosphere far better than most period lit adaptations-- wise, since a mood piece is probably the smartest way to approach something like this. Aided by visual wit and ideal performances from Mia Wasikowska (still one of the most consistently interesting young actresses working today) and Fassy (as the girls on my Tumblr Dashboard call him).
the Mill and the Cross (Lech Majewski) Slightly more tolerable than most of the other higher profile art house flicks from this year, but still frustratingly inert and too comfortable with its lack of discipline. Some interesting camera set-ups and the occasional striking image ease the pill.
Nostalgia For the Light (Patricio Guzmán) I just don't understand the arthouse scene anymore. Unfocused, un-color corrected documentary politicizing Chilean astronomy and offering up the occasional striking image that could have easily come from
NOVA (and probably would have been surrounded by sounder material)
Restless (Gus Van Sant) Of particular offense in such close quarters with John Green's superior take on the young love and cancer tale,
the Fault in Our Stars. This film does everything the book doesn't and shouldn't and wouldn't, and does it poorly. A smug, braindead film so misguided in its intent that there surely must be some other level its operating on, because why else would such grand talent be wasted so spectacularly? Viewing was made all the worse for knowing that the Blu-ray also contained an alternate "silent" cut of the film that eliminated the tortuous dialog. The film's sole saving grace is how beautiful and autumnal everything looks (maybe the film only works as an elaborate Rodarte-esque fashion ad), and the prospect of ditching the dumb specifics of the plot and just telling a cute doomed young love story without the affectations was exciting. But then one sees Van Sant literally used the same blockings and set-ups and just told the actors to intuit their lines wordlessly, the primary functions of which are communicated through obnoxious title cards that foist the same dreadful dialog on us. The resultant "alternate" film is even worse, if that's possible.
Rodarte: the Curve of Forgotten Things (Todd Cole) (
Pick one) Fashion as the infinite aesthetic / Aesthetics as the infinite fashion
Take Me Home Tonight (Michael Dowse) Well,
That 70s Show was relatively funny, but this is a comedy from writers of that show that didn't make me laugh once, though I must admit the film has a certain 80s movie charm that left me entertained regardless. Teresa Palmer is a qt. Chris Pratt is trim and fit. Bob Odenkirk and Michael Ian Black are wasted. I wish I had been wasted.
Tanner Hall (Tatiana von Fürstenberg and Francesca Gregorini) Truly terrible boarding school "drama" that is less insightful and well-observed into the hows and whys of teenage girls than any given five minutes on the CW (and if that's not damning enough, what is?). How is it that women were responsible for the creation of this cliched monstrosity? The only reason this misfire is on anyone's radar is the presence of up and coming actresses like Rooney Mara and Brie Larson (who at one point sports the most Herculean towel this side of Shirley MacLaine's in
All in a Night's Work), and no doubt they'll be working as quickly as possible to make this one fall deeper and deeper down their IMDB profile.
Tyrannosaur (Paddy Considine) I tire so very quickly of films which want to "shock" me, particularly artsy-leaning character pieces like this. The cheap opening ploy, wherein the main character kicks his dog to its death, is only matched in laughable faux-bravado by Eddie Marsden's entrance, urinating over his wife's body while she feigns sleep. Oh my stars, you r soooo brave, movie! Once the film gets this garbage out of its system, it fares a little better than I'd have guessed based on the first half, but this is still bollocky wank shite.
Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (Apichatpong Weerasethakul) Okay, so I'm cheating here since there is a thread for this, but it's filled with too much fawning for a dissenting voice to be welcomed. So I will simply say, for the sake of anyone else who just doesn't get it either, that this was probably the closest I've ever come to walking out of a movie in the theater. I hated it on a basic level and my arguments against it aren't kind to its fans, so I will leave it at just being one of those things where I'm over here and everyone else is over there.
the Way (Emilio Estevez) Maudlin Sheen Family travelogue masquerading as insightful. Limited filmmaking skills on Estevez' part doesn't help, though Martin Sheen comes off best-- it helps to just picture President Bartlett making the religious trek, as Sheen plays the part nearly identically. So earnest that it's hard to get too worked up against it, but there's not much here beyond seeing the sights/sites depicted.
Your Highness (David Gordon Green) Not really a stoner comedy (there's like two scenes of someone getting high-- every Wes Anderson movie is a stoner comedy three times over comparatively), but then again, not really a comedy either. Oh, it thinks it is, that's for sure. But I count zero laughs, though I recall letting out a chuckle at the intentionally overcooked romantic interest Natalie Portman lays on in one scene (she's the only one who comes out of this thing no worse for the wear). Apparently the dialog was mostly ad-libbed, and even the dregs of improv like Drew Carey and crew could surely do better than "Cervix is where I'll be tonight. When my penis is up your vagina" (or some awkwardly phrased equivalent). As a fantasy adventure, it's not half-bad and is moderately entertaining in spite of itself. Imagine if everyone involved gave up trying to be "shocking" and tried to be "funny," or just made a straight fantasy film-- I at least wouldn't feel embarrassed by-proxy for how expensive this looks.