Knowledge is the Treasure: Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull opens, like the Indiana Jones adventures before it, with the Paramount logo dissolving into something literal (an actual mountain, a mountain on a gong, etc.). In each movie, the post logo reveal has given us a sense of time and place, but in this instance, it is disorienting. The first shot is of a tiny hill, and once the prairie dog pops through it, he is immediately scared away as a speeding car crushes over the dirt. What first almost feels like the director, Steven Spielberg, poking fun at the openings of the past, now takes on a greater weight. Seeing this creation of nature wrecked by a creation of man hints that we are in an age of destruction.

The car is filled with teenagers listening to Elvis, driving too fast and feeling the exhilaration of their youth. They come upon some military trucks and challenge one of them to a race, and seeing the two vehicles side by side provides a perfect metaphor of innocence vs. tact. The teens don't have a care in the world, as nothing in their lives has had consequence yet. The race ends when the military trucks take a detour by a sign labeled "Atomic Cafe" while the young and carefree fly away to continue growing and learning about the world. Unlike our still unseen hero, they have no idea that things are not going to stay that easy.

From the trunk of one of the military vehicles, our beloved Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford, the best he's ever been) is reborn. Fittingly, he's not revealed to us until his trademark fedora is placed firmly on his head. The first word he utters is "Russians," and it generates a tinge of excitement because we can see Indy is already in over his head. But there's something different when we look at him now. Unlike the teens from the opening sequence, he seems tired and less certain he will be able to get out of the current predicament ("We were younger. We had guns."). That doesn't stop him, of course, from outsmarting his captors when they force him to find a crate in the Area 51 warehouse.

We never would have expected to see Indiana Jones assisting in the recovery of "mummified remains" of this sort, but sure enough, the crate is opened and the content is the corpse of something that is not of this world. For Indy, seeing is not believing at this point. It will naturally take a journey for him to truly gain an understanding of an existence he currently doubts. This has been the case with all of his adventures, but the artifact he is protecting here will be harder to accept. Equally as hard though, are the changes in political climate. Paranoia runs rampant, you never know who can be trusted, and those around you are always preparing for the worst.

This last bit comes effectively into play when Indy stumbles upon a nuclear testing site made to look like a suburban neighborhood. Instead of just setting up a bunch of empty houses, trouble has been taken to supply every necessary detail to make this feel like a classic American suburb, complete with mannequins to represent husbands, wives, children, and even pets. Of course, if these bombs really get used, it won't be on Americans, so it's as if the people testing these weapons have to reverse the effect to see if they could possibly identify with how it feels to be in the wake of such destruction. The image of the creepy mannequin faces being obliterated is unsettling to say the least (I also couldn't help but think about Spielberg's own history with the destruction of the "nuclear" family).

The movie gets it's first iconic shot after Indy survives the blast. We watch as he observes the mushroom cloud engulfing the sky, but we never see his reaction to it. Time stops momentarily as our hero gets to take in the scope of something greater than any danger he has ever been lucky enough to escape. This threat is real. It's at this point in the movie that Indy begins to acknowledge that he's not a young man anymore. After being suspended from the college (on accusal of treason), he sits at his desk and looks at pictures of the two people he's lost: his father and Marcus Brody. Unfortunately, time does not stand still quite as often as it used to. Or as a colleague puts it, "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."

Indy misses the father he never really knew. The disconnect between fathers and sons is a Spielberg trademark (best displayed, I think, in Catch Me If You Can), and it's one he will explore again here. Yes, Indy has a son named Mutt (Shia LaBeouf), a motorcycle riding greaser who needs our hero to help rescue his mother. Of course, it isn't until close to the middle of the picture that Mutt finds out Indy is his father; before now, he thought his step father was his real one. There's a genuine sense of disappointment as this tough kid tries to grasp the fact that his father is not a war hero (as he originally believed) but a teacher. The movie has fun playing with their relationship, with Mutt constantly commenting on Indy's age ("What are you, like 80?") and Indy getting onto Mutt about going back to school (before he knew Mutt was his son, he didn't care). It's amusing that he would pick on Mutt for not staying in school; after a chase sequence that ends in the campus library where Indy teaches, he informs the students that if they want to be good archaeologists, they "have to get out of the library."

Since this is an Indiana Jones movie, the plot involves a religious artifact being used to obtain the wrong kind of power. It's fitting given the time period that the artifact is the skull of an "inter-dimensional being," an element that drew a great amount of criticism from audiences. If Indy had punched one of these beings like Will Smith in Independence Day, I could see some rationality behind the complaints. But the screenplay by David Koepp is smarter than that, instead focusing on what these beings represent.

The idea of God is to acknowledge a presence greater than oneself. We learn late in the movie that an ancient tribe worshiped these beings since they came from the sky, and because they were taught farming and irrigation, tools that would help keep them alive. In other words, these beings gave them the knowledge to gain the necessities of life, and to honor them, the people tied ropes around their children's skulls to elongate them in the image of these "Gods." We are critical of what we do not understand, especially when it comes to religion (or to be more precise, a religion that is not ours), but Indy is familiar with the lengths people will go to pay tribute to what they believe is true ("Depends on who your God is.").

Since the days of the conquistadors, anyone seeking the skull has done so for selfish reasons, and now it is in the hands of Russian baddie Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett). She sees the skull as a tool for psychic power, a way to obtain information that will assist in conquering others in times of war. To her, this is acceptable since people have used religion for personal gain for many years (she references how Oppenheimer quoted the Hindu bible when creating the atomic bomb). Of course, the riches that can be obtained are based on real faith, not blind, and it is for this reason Spalko is unable to tap into the skull ("The skull does not speak to everyone."). True faith comes from within (why else would they be inter-dimensional beings?), so it is to her discredit that she believes that her quest for knowledge is genuine. Ultimately, you have to ask the right questions and sometimes knowing the answers is not enough.

The prophet of the movie is Harold Oxley (John Hurt), a seemingly mad scientist who is able to see the light. His instability stems from the fact that the mind is often unable to grasp things as quickly as the soul. While he is able to supply nuggets of information ("The one who was lost." "Someone came."), they do not come full circle until the movie's final sequence when the characters go to return the skull to its rightful owner. It is here Spalko finally gets what she wished for, although neither her mind nor her soul have the capacity to sustain the "knowledge." There's a brilliant shot containing Indy and Spalko on the outsides of the frame and Oxley in the center; it's a perfect way to visually represent that what matters lies within.

In a movie full of awesome shots (this is Spielberg after all), it's hard to top the awe aspiring moment where the saucer takes off. It proves to be a fitting bookend to the mushroom cloud because once again, we look on as Indy does and do not see his reaction. But it's also the other moment in the picture when time stands still, however in this instance it is not a threat. The departure of these beings brings with it a sense of hope (what stands out most is that we don't see where the ship goes...once the rocks drop, it's just gone). When asked if they returned to space, Oxley suggests they went back to "the space between spaces." In other words, a place inhabited by a force greater than ourselves. Oxley's line gives greater weight to Indy's observation to Mutt that, "Somewhere your Grandpa is laughing."

I have yet to mention the action in the picture, maybe because I feel like those scenes are the least significant. They are tremendous fun, with Spielberg as always reminding us why he has yet to be matched when it comes to technical precision. If there is a piece of the action I need to note, it is in regards to the much maligned CGI. Most of the tomatoes thrown here are in regards to the sequence of Mutt swinging through the vines with the monkeys. While I will agree it is cheesy, I also feel it is a nice breather, since the last hour of the movie is basically wall-to-wall action set pieces. I also feel comfortable defending the CGI because this movie is a throwback to the science fiction pictures of the 1950s. All of the visuals here compliment the ridiculousness ("Big damn ants!") of old monster movies, and in addition, Indiana Jones taught us a long time ago that in his adventures, Anything Goes. This is an homage, so if the effects looked too slick, the purpose would be defeated.

The most satisfying scene is saved for last. Because Indy learned that time is not something he has control over, he finally ties the knot with Marion (Karen Allen, still feisty, but not feisty enough). As Oxley put it, "How much of human life is lost in wait." This appreciation for life leads Indy to snatch his hat when Mutt attempts to put it on. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is about realizing you are only immortal for a limited time, and sometimes it takes discovering something beyond one's understanding to realize that. The fact that the movie came almost twenty years after the last entry in the series makes perfect sense, as Spielberg is at the right age to identify with his hero's internal struggles. This is a personal project in a career full of personal projects, and it's those touches that make Spielberg's movies stand out as something special. With Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it's easy to simply look and enjoy what's on the surface, but the reward will be much richer if you decide to look at what lies within.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Spielberg Blogathon

I am very excited to announce I will be participating in a Spielberg Blogathon! Go to http://www.spielbergblogathon.blogspot.com for more details, and be on the lookout for my post in the upcoming weeks.




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"Now I'm Just A Traveling Man.": William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist III

William Friedkin said he wanted to direct The Exorcist because he felt it was about the mystery of faith. Knowing that, I have to wonder if that's why he and the writer, William Peter Blatty, had disagreements when it came to doing a followup. The two were going to re-team to do the sequel even before Blatty wrote his novel, Legion, which would become The Exorcist III for the big screen. But they were unable to see eye-to-eye (a problem they had on The Exorcist as well), so Friedkin backed out and Blatty wrote a novel instead. It did feature characters from the original novel and film, but they were not directly related. Years later, Blatty wrote a script and after deciding to direct, a studio was on board and a new movie was in the works.

Blatty wanted the movie to retain the title of his novel only, but the studio saw things differently. In their eyes, keeping The Exorcist in the title was key, although Blatty didn't want to be associated with the second movie, which was a disaster in every respect. Given his battle with the studio (which led to him re-shooting an ending that feels as tacked on as it is), it's an amazement that The Exorcist III works as well as it does (I've read many, including Blatty, who think it is scarier than The Exorcist). The reason for its success is due not only to the effective dialogue flowing through the screenplay, but also because of Blatty's knack for unsettling and genuinely frightening visuals. Watching the picture again, I had to wonder what the first movie would have been like had he directed it.

The movie takes place in Georgetown, fifteen years after the exorcism of Reagan McNeil and the death of Father Karras. Kinderman (George C. Scott), the cop investigating the deaths in the first movie, was also Karras's friend and is still haunted by what happened that night. He spends the anniversary of the event by going to see "It's A Wonderful Life," even though Kinderman doesn't think such a thing exists. He's spent the last fifteen years a skeptic, as he believes "the whole world is a homicide victim." He still spends time with priests, but not to make himself feel better. Instead, it gives him an opportunity to tell them what's wrong with the world and ask why God would allow such things to happen. His thoughts on the divine are best summed up when he looks at a snow globe, since everything that exists inside it is make believe. There's something envious about the way Kinderman studies it; you get the impression he wants to go behind the glass where it is safe.

Kinderman's already bleak life is made all the worse when a grisly murder occurs and it marks the pattern of a notorious killer, known as "Gemini," who was stopped years before. More murders follow, with each one more bizarre than the last. But while the first victim was a child, the next few are priests, one of which was Kinderman's friend and died in a hospital. This leads Kinderman to consult the head doctor (Scott Wilson, classic as always), and it is here that Blatty explores some of the same areas covered in The Exorcist. While the first picture deeply examined faith verses science, this movie puts them closer to the same level. There's a scene where the doctor has written out exactly what he is going to tell Kinderman when they meet and even refers to the script as he is talking, which in essence means that doctors and priests both must rehearse speeches to be clear about what they are saying. Neither one of them ever has real answers; only projections on paper.

The hospital becomes the key setting once Kinderman discovers a man in the mental ward who he swears is Father Karras (once again played by the awesome Jason Miller). His interviews with the patient reminds of Karras's conversations with the possessed Reagan, which makes perfect sense since Kinderman is a skeptic and at that time, so was Karras. Strangely, the patient knows the details of all the recent murders and even claims to be the "Gemini" killer himself. The movie effectively shifts back and forth between the face of Karras and the face of the real "Gemini" (played by an ultra creepy Brad Dourif), letting the audience know that while Kinderman does recognize this man on the outside, someone completely different lives within. It's as if Karras is being punished for saving Reagan. The fact he is still possessed by something shows that his faith never truly recovered.

The most intriguing scenes in The Exorcist III are the conversations between Kinderman and "Gemini." The dialogue is so rich and disturbing ("Gemini" talks about how a dismembered head can still see for twenty seconds after being removed, so he shows the victim their body) that the images conjured in one's mind are equally as scary to what Blatty cooks up onscreen. In addition, the scenes further extend Blatty's view that people are ultimately weak to the power of evil and it's a force beyond their control. Karras's body is proof of that, as the "Gemini" explains that the body is nothing more than a box for the spirit and these days, he's become a traveling man.

Blatty is able to pull off plenty of skin crawling visuals, the best of which is a sequence in the hospital that consists of a long hallway shot and great use of subtle noise. If the build up is nerve wracking, wait until you get to the payoff, which is a moment that gave me the worst goosebumps I have ever experienced (every time I see the movie I still get them, even though I know what is going to happen). Blatty makes a lot of the scares all the better by providing quick glimpses so our mind goes into overdrive trying to figure out what we just saw. It's a shame he has not directed a movie since The Exorcist III, although given his difficulties with the studio, I guess it is hard to blame him.

If there's a criticism I can give Blatty as a director, it's his overuse of close ups. Maybe it was because he was thrilled to be working with the great George C. Scott, who brings a lot of great moments (and a handful of overcooked ones) to the role of Kinderman. Not one of my favourite characters in the first movie, Kinderman has gone from a needless plot device to a fully realized man who only has faith and acceptance in the things right in front of him: death and destruction. Being a cop has become who he is, since he is incapable of turning his back on the bad around him (like he is unable to live without it). What's interesting is the fact he is able to find the negative even with the positive elements in his life (he tells an amusing story about why he can't go home because of what his wife is cooking).

I'm in agreement that the ending is the movie's greatest weakness. While there are certainly lacking moments here and there, none of them feel as abrupt and unnecessary as the exorcism that ends the picture. It would have been nice to have a showdown of words between Kinderman and "Gemini" but instead, we are treated to a barrage of special effects and demonic imagery. There hasn't been anything very bombastic about the rest of the movie, so to throw it in during the last ten minutes cheapens the journey a bit.

The Exorcist III was met with mixed reviews and fair box office returns, but it certainly didn't garner much real attention. Given the reputation of part two, this doesn't come as much of a surprise, although I view the movie as a stand alone piece and not an Exorcist movie, even though it does share some of the same ideas. Released in 1990, this probably was the first notable horror picture of the new decade. Despite its minor missteps, it has found an audience as the years have passed, and why shouldn't it? The Exorcist III is a reminder of when horror movies were not about grossing us out or tons of sharp cuts, but about finding inventive ways to creep us out of our wits. Twenty years later, it still succeeds.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

The Curse of Everlasting Life: Brad Ellis' Daylight Fades

Review contains multiple spoilers.

When thinking about how difficult life is as a human, imagine how hard it is to live as a vampire. Many people don't like to think about the fact they will eventually die, but do they have what it takes to live forever? Would the humanity they once had fade away as the times passes? Could they get used to feeding on blood, but more than that, the blood of humans? For some vampires, it is not a challenge at all. They accept and embrace what they are, and since they are no longer human, rules do not apply to them anymore. But to others, letting go of their humanity could be too painful, so coming to terms with what they are will be a constant, perhaps eternal struggle.

These conflicts are at the core of Brad Ellis' Daylight Fades, a drama that at its center revolves around an eternal life filled with regret and loneliness. What works about it is the way it shows that not being human doesn't change the fact one can continue to make the same mistakes. If a vampire tries to hang on to what they were before they changed, the fact they are trying to be something they're not can only end in disaster. Hence is the case with Seth (Allen Gardner), a vampire who, as the movie opens, has hit rock bottom and is overwhelmed by all the aspects of his life. His existence is desolate and pathetic, so when he is offered an opportunity to have it all go away, he leaves everything behind and foolishly takes it.

The movie picks back up years later, and we see that Seth's decision to become a vampire has left him worse off than he was before. His resistance to living wild and free has led him to watch his daughter, Elizabeth (Rachel Miles), now in her twenties, who's life is not much better than Seth's was once he finally gave up. Elizabeth has never had positive male figures in her life, and the experience has left her bitter and cruel when it comes to partners and fathers. All this changes when she meets Johnny (Matthew Stiller), a loner who is shy, lacks confidence, and "got left with a broken home." The two share a stale meet cute that might be convincing if they were in high school but here, there's no real chemistry. It feels like they are meeting because the plot requires it.

Their biggest connection comes on a dance floor. Neither of them is looking for a relationship, but as shown through a nicely staged montage, they click and before he knows it, Johnny is in love. Elizabeth's guard is unable to come down though, so she cheats in an act of desperation and the emotional toll it takes on Johnny leads to a car accident he cannot recover from. And this is where Seth enters in. Having tortured himself over not being a part of his daughter's life, he sees saving Johnny from death as the only way he can show his love for her. It's an act of desperation to be sure, because why would Seth want to give someone the life he has? How could he possibly be so selfish as to force his daughter to grow old and die while Johnny stays the same and lives an eternity of Hell?

We have to wonder if Seth is changing Johnny as much for himself as he is for Elizabeth. It's obvious that the years alone have made it a struggle for him to relate to or communicate well with humans. He tries to sympathize with their sadness, but is unable to properly show emotion anymore. By turning Johnny and taking care of him, Seth will not only have someone he can talk to, but will finally be a proper father figure. He can teach Johnny how to survive as a vampire without having to take a human life. You can see the change in attitude as Seth first begins to explain to Johnny what he is. It's the first time Seth has felt alive in years.

Seth is so busy focusing on helping Johnny understand what he is, he never thinks about how the situation will affect Elizabeth. He makes Johnny promise not to change her, neglecting to remember that she will ultimately suffer and have to find ways to explain why he never ages. At one point, they ask Seth if sex is still an option and while they are able, they "can't create life." The only thing a vampire is capable of is taking life away. What Seth has failed to realize is that he's coaching Johnny to become him. Now that Johnny is a vampire, what will happen if Elizabeth cannot handle it and leaves? There are a number of moments where Seth sits outside the house of his lost love, a foreshadowing to Johnny's future. In this world, love is a double edged sword, as you will lose whether you are human or vampire.

The movie's visual style compliments the mood of the story. Most of the scenes take place at night, which lets the darkness cloak the characters in sadness. Seth is kept mostly in the shadows, most effectively during the scenes where he watches his lost love's home. Only half of his face is lit, appropriately showcasing the two sides struggling to exist, one vampire and the other human. Late in the movie, Seth has a lovely reunion with Sarah (Kim Justis, excellent), Elizabeth's mother and the woman he left behind. It is here we realize by turning Johnny into him, he is also turning Elizabeth into her mother. It's a selfish act, but even all the years of being a vampire haven't been able to change Seth from the shell of a man he used to be. The most tragic quality to Seth is that he will spend eternity making the same types of mistakes and not realizing it.

Seth is the glue that holds the movie together, and the scenes that feature him leave a lasting impression. Sympathizing with a vampire is not easy to pull off, but Gardner's quietly moving performance is able to do this. Sadly, the same cannot be said for all aspects of his screenplay. As it has been with a lot of his writing, I find that the supporting characters are often more appealing than the main ones. The same applies here. In addition to Seth, the movie's best character is Raven, played by the dynamite Rachel Kimsey. She is the antithesis of Seth in the vampire world, being that she uses humans as sexual toys and then feeds on them. Living forever is the ultimate party, and since there aren't many vampires around, the world has become her personal playground.

Raven sees Johnny as a protege and uses her sexuality as a way to bring him to her side. She looks down on humanity and uses her lifestyle as a way to make Johnny do the same. What I like about her performance is that she is not flat out aggressive with Johnny to adhere to her ways. Instead, she is patient with him and uses small temptations in hopes he will come around. As much as I love Raven, I never found Johnny's journey with her convincing. There's a scene where he talks to Elizabeth and is frustrated about the fact she left him in a time of crisis. Instead of simply voicing his disapproval of what she did (although he should have been understanding about it, since he killed someone right in front of her), he tells her he does not love her anymore. It feels too convenient, as if it has to happen so Johnny will get to experience the Raven side of being a vampire for a while.

I mentioned earlier how lame the meet cute between Johnny and Elizabeth is and sadly, their relationship never develops into something realistic. Worse, with the exception of Seth, none of the other relationships in the movie have any ring of truth to them. Since Elizabeth has never had a father, the screenplay provides an alcoholic stepfather named Tim (Michael Gravois), who exists for no other reason than to be overbearing and unsupportive. We also know that he is in the movie so Seth can attack him later. Same applies to Elizabeth's ex-boyfriend (Adam Burns), a complete asshole whose every appearance is building to the moment Johnny will finally get angry and kill his first human. I like the idea he will have to pay for this sin, but the movie's resolution to it is a cop out. I don't have a problem with the fact Johnny writes a letter detailing what he did, it's that the movie attempts to milk emotional resonance by showing the dead kid's mother watching Johnny leave after he drops the letter at her door. In this case, less would have been more.

Seth's best friend, Patrick (Dennis Phillipi), has become the close family connection and the real father figure to Elizabeth, although in many of the scenes, he feels more like an intruder. Instead of helping any of the conflicts he gets involved in, I kept thinking he looked like that cool uncle who would give you a sip of his beer when you're a kid. Equally out of place is Johnny's best friend, Jake (Drew Smith), a character who is in the movie to provide comic relief, although the only thing comic about him is that his dialogue sounds like a cheap stand up routine. He is supposed to be support for Johnny, but his comments are both egotistical and misogynistic (will Gardner ever be able to outgrow writing this character?).

Good performances could help overcome the issues I have with the two lead characters, but the result is a mixed bag. Rachel Miles tries hard to convey Elizabeth's emotional uncertainties, the problem being that she tries a bit too hard. I found the performance too theatrical, meaning the delivery of every line and every facial expression comes off as overdone. It's as if she is never comfortable in the role. This is most apparent during the scene where she confesses her love to Johnny as he is dying. As she cries, it looks like she is pretending to cry, so instead of appearing sad, she looks like she wants to swallow him whole.

Matthew Stiller fares better as Johnny. Aside from having the right look for the role, he is able to convincingly convey his uncertainty and then acceptance of what he has become. Even when the movie requires him to do things that don't make a lot of sense, Stiller's face gives the perfect amount of nuance to pull the audience along with him. Where he doesn't fare so well is in regards to the romance. Like Rachel Miles, his delivery has a tendency to get a bit theatrical, as if they are competing to see who can talk louder.

Many of the scripts failings are hidden by the cinematography, which strikes the right somber mood. The widescreen framing captures a world that feels worn down and lived in by beings who are uncertain of their purpose and may no longer care. In fact, the imagery is so entrancing it only brings out the screenplay's greatest weakness: that with the exception of Seth, none of the other characters feels lived in. The first time we meet them in the movie, it feels like the first moment they've ever existed and when the movie is over, we can't imagine their lives continuing. Everything begins and ends with the movie itself because the people inhabiting it feel like creations of a plot and nothing more. Due to this, it never feels like anything is at stake (no pun intended).

The movie's climax drives this idea home. After a suicide attempt to hopefully force Seth to change her, Elizabeth decides she, Johnny, and Seth should leave town and start over (what she thinks they'll find by running away is a mystery, as Johnny will still be a vampire). They all agree to it, but once on the road, Johnny realizes he can't go because it's not fair to Elizabeth. He only has one choice, and that is to die. The scene is completely abrupt and there has not been any real progression to bring Johnny to this point. If anything, he should be sacrificing himself out of guilt for murdering a human. Even more puzzling is why Elizabeth is so quick to accept his decision aside from the fact it makes sense in context to the plot (she never got to say goodbye the first time he was going to die, so now she can).

Seth's guilt over what he made Johnny (and how he has ruined Elizabeth's life) lets him know he must die as well. This makes sense, as Seth is the only character in the movie who has not functioned as a simple plot device. The only flaw in Seth's logic is that it seems he would try to stop Johnny and have them leave him behind. In his mind, Johnny and Elizabeth should be able to start over without him. The climax leads to a beautifully composed final scene of Seth and Johnny staring at the sunrise as they accept their fate. It marks the first time they truly see things clearly and are able to accept what they really are. It's a sublime moment in a movie that doesn't completely earn it. There is plenty of admire about Daylight Fades, but it has too many characters and needs a clearer focus. It's an unforgettable ending in search of a memorable path to get there.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Meeting Halfway: The Best of 2010 (so far)

No real need for introductions here...I'll let my choices speak for themselves. More to come soon, and here's to hoping this dreadful summer movie season shows signs of improvement.

LEE



5) Hot Tub Time Machine dir. Steve Pink

It isn't nearly as funny as it should have been, but what ultimately struck me about Hot Tub Time Machine is how well it understands how disappointing life can be. By using a cheap gimmick to take three forty-year-olds back to their glory days, the movie explores how going back to the best days of your past will not fix the problems of the present. In fact, it can potentially make them worse. The idea is conveyed through scenes of embarrassing truth, many of which are meant to be funny, but struck a nerve for me in a different way. If I had laughed more (and don't get me wrong, I did laugh), I'd consider Hot Tub Time Machine a classic. As it stands, the movie is a splendid examination of mid-life crisis.



4) Kick-Ass dir. Matthew Vaughn

A superhero movie that has its cake and eats it too, Matthew Vaughn's latest seamlessly blends the real world with the comic book one, while at the same time finding a way to mix teen comedy and romance with outrageous violence. Like all good movies of this genre, it weighs in on the responsibilities of its heroes and tests their moral boundaries. The title challenges us to think about how we view superheroes when we are children, and the movie shows, sometimes painfully, the realization we come to once we discover that it is not as easy or as chivalrous as we might expect.



3) Shutter Island dir. Martin Scorsese

The most misunderstood movie of the year so far, and one that begs for multiple viewings, Scorsese's newest is a love letter to '50s cinema in style and in tone. It deceptively plays like a textbook mystery, but carefully peeling back the layers reveals something much deeper and profound. This isn't just about finding a missing girl; at its core, the movie is a complex and heartbreaking trip into an irreversibly damaged psyche. It would have been easy to find a satisfying resolution, a road Scorsese sidesteps with the movie's final line of dialogue. Any questions are answered at that point, and in looking back over the events of the movie, there are no cheats to be found. Shutter Island has been invading my brain since I saw it, so needless to say I can't wait to see it again.



2) Exit Through the Gift Shop dir. Banksy

As fascinating and thought provoking as any documentary I have seen in recent years, Exit Through the Gift Shop acquaints the viewer with the lives of street artists as seen through the eyes of someone fascinated with the process. For a while, we are convinced this will be the movie's core focus, until it flips the switch at the halfway point and gives us something completely different to chew on. Many have speculated if the movie is a joke, and whether it is or not, it provides a discussion worthy portrait of the nature and intentions behind art, whether it be from the artist's point of view or the spectator's. Does art always have meaning, and does the artist always intend for it to? This just rips the lid off of one the many questions this movie dares us to ponder.



1) Toy Story 3 dir. Lee Unkrich

Yet another example of why Pixar corners the market in animated features, Toy Story 3 is a work of exceptional maturity and emotional honesty. It expands on the ideas of the first two movies by bravely (and unpredictably) taking its main characters, who always knew little Andy would grow up, and forcing them to finally realize they are only immortal for a limited time. The screwball banter and visual gags are still intact, and while they don't always succeed, they pave the way for some much darker territory. This is the first entry in the series that has seen any real consequences, or to put it more accurately, impending doom. By conveying these themes through Pixar's rich visuals (something that has become one of their trademarks), the movie is able to make us care for these toys more than we could have imagined. They aren't just play things anymore, but living entities with feelings (could we suggest they have a soul?). Let's hope this is the last entry in the series. The movie ends on a perfect and graceful note that lets the audience know nothing more needs to be said.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Breaking the Mold: The Best Movies of 2009

As I looked back over the movies I saw in 2009, I realized that the best of the lot resembled the list I made in 2007. New and seasoned filmmakers shot for the moon, creating bold and risky visions of everything from the damages of heartbreak, to the trials of adolescence, to the decline of the world as we know it. There wasn't a consistent theme to the best of the year, which made putting them in a list all the more difficult. I've spoken with quite a few people who said they didn't see enough great movies in 2009 to make a top ten. I was struggling to figure out which movies would be left out of the top twenty. It was a strong year for movies, in other words, as plenty of filmmakers had something to say and did so in ways that were ambitious, original, and occasionally profound. So, here is my sum up, as best as I could put them in order. As usual, it is always subject to change, and when that is a dilemma, I'd say that's the sign of a good movie year.

LEE

Dishonorable Mentions (in alphabetical order): 12 Rounds, Avatar, Funny People, The Proposal, Terminator: Salvation, World's Greatest Dad, and Year One

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order): Anvil! The Story of Anvil, The Box, Crank: High Voltage, Drag Me to Hell, Gomorrah, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, The Limits of Control, Moon, A Perfect Getaway, Star Trek, Taken, Tetro, and You, the Living

The Next Ten

20) Coraline (dir. Henry Selick)
19) Sherlock Holmes (dir. Guy Ritchie)
18) A Serious Man (dir. Joel and Ethan Coen)
17) Martyrs (dir. Pascal Laugier)
16) The Hurt Locker (dir. Kathryn Bigelow)
15) Bright Star (dir. Jane Campion)
14) In the Loop (dir. Armando Iannucci)
13) 500 Days of Summer (dir. Marc Webb)
12) The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (dir. Werner Herzog)
11) Stingray Sam (dir. Cory McAbee)

The Top Ten



10) Observe and Report (dir. Jody Hill)

I found myself stunned after the first ten minutes of Observe and Report to the point my mouth hung open for the entire run time. Part of it was due to the fearless performance by Seth Rogen (who I was ready to give up on before this), the other was my amazement a studio would green light a comedy this uncomfortable. In an age where comedies consider risk being how often they can gross you out, here's one that uses the same tactic as a way to test the audience, not shock them. I've seen the movie twice and I want to see it again, just so I can remind myself it actually exists.



9) Antichrist (dir. Lars von Trier)

One of the most talked about movies of the year for more reasons than one, Lars von Trier's latest is a strangely compelling and emotionally rich horror movie about dealing with guilt and the multiple meanings of the word, "nature." The movie effortlessly juggles themes involving sexuality, relationships, and gender differences, building to a conclusion that shows how emotional pain leads to the need for physical pain, particularly when dealing with regret and blame. I thought a lot about Milton while I watched Antichrist; it's not an easy movie, but I'll be damned if it's not a fascinating one. Put it on a double bill with The Exorcist.



8) The House of the Devil (dir. Ti West)

Ti West has amazingly, at the age of 29, already mastered the tricky art of building anticipation. His third feature is his best so far, a throwback horror picture that isn't about in jokes or pop culture references, but a dead serious and beautifully stylish movie about the dangers of babysitting for strangers. The gorgeous Jocelin Donahue carries the movie with grace and subtlety, and the legendary Tom Noonan gets to turn the creepiness factor up to eleven for the first time since Manhunter. If the payoff isn't as exhilarating as the tense and remarkably quiet buildup, it hardly matters because it is handled with a technical proficiency and maturity rarely seen in the genre anymore. West remembers what made horror movies special in the first place: sometimes your imagination is scarier than what's actually put in front of you.



7) Fantastic Mr. Fox (dir. Wes Anderson)

Every Wes Anderson movie with the exception of Bottle Rocket has made it onto my top ten list, but none of them have entertained in the way Fantastic Mr. Fox does. Anderson proves animation suites him well with this visually dazzling, consistently hilarious tale of a fox's desire to break out of his boring routine and do what's in his nature. Along the way, the director's signature father/son conflicts come into play, and as usual, they are handled with equal compassion and quirkiness. What surprises most is the way Anderson is also able to weave in, with warm humor and a touch of the profound, ideas about the consequences of war and finding one's sense of purpose. It's a perfect decade closer for the auteur filmmaker, as it opens a brand new door of possibilities for him. Let's hope the movie's box office failure won't hold him back from exploring this medium again.



6) Up (dir. Pete Docter and Bob Peterson)

While I do agree with the majority that the wordless prologue is perhaps the best thing Pixar has ever done, I will still argue that the movie that follows is pretty great as well. The opening scene sets the stage for a visually audacious journey of soul searching for Carl (Ed Asner), a widowed man who decides to literally take his house to the paradise he and his wife never visited. Along the way, he befriends a little boy in need of a father figure and finds out the truth about his childhood hero. The movie effectively captures the need to rediscover one's inner strength no matter the age, and how the images of those we look up to can be shattered when we learn who they really are. It's a thoroughly rich movie, complete with sequences of cliffhanging excitement, unexpected laughs, and emotional honesty. After the underwhelming trailer, Up turned out to be a real treat.



5) Adventureland (dir. Greg Mottola)

I love coming of age stories, even though most of them depend on tasteless gags or a lack of understanding the way teenagers really behave. Even though Greg Mottola's Superbad had its fair share of vulgarities, it still had a firm grasp on who its characters were, emotions and all. Mottola's follow up threatened to be the same movie but instead, it takes a completely different approach. The movie covers the awkward summer after college is over when you can't find a "real" job and girls are tired of boys and ready for men. Mottola builds the central romance with an admirable amount of restraint, using the setting and the music to establish the mood and create memories. An '80s soundtrack can often be a distraction but here, we see how each song will serve as a reminder to a magical moment experienced during a summer with a miserable job and a difficult romance. This is one of those rarities that you don't want to end, because the world the characters inhabit is comfortable and true.



4) Pontypool (dir. Bruce McDonald)

Most horror movies are all about visual style and gore, which is what makes Pontypool one of the biggest pleasures in quite some time. Taking place in one location and focusing on the confusion and then fear (and then confusion) of a disc jockey (a terrific Stephen McHattie) and a few other radio station employees, the movie is a savage critique on the world's slow decent into illiteracy and the potential danger of talk radio. Aside from that, I will say no more, for the unfolding of the events is how this picture hooks you. No one makes movies like this anymore, movies that have a brain and are still able to be a hell of a lot of fun and scarier than we might have expected. Who knew that a dialogue based movie, set in a basement, could have the ability to totally freak you out?



3) Two Lovers (dir. James Gray)

Although James Gray's movies keep getting better, nothing could have prepared me for the dramatic punch of his latest. A story of a lost soul (a never better Joaquin Phoenix) who ends up torn between two women, one as starved of love as he is and the other, needy and helpless, Two Lovers is as honest and unflinching a portrait of necessity and the longing for human connection as any I have seen. The movie features Gray's signature touch for making the viewer feel right at home within its community, an element that gives us a better understanding of why the characters are at this point in their fractured lives. The conclusion to the picture is nothing short of perfection as it brings into focus an ultimatum that isn't based on what the key character really wants, but what will adequately fill the void in his heart.



2) Where the Wild Things Are (dir. Spike Jonze)

Spike Jonze's collaborations with the great Charlie Kaufman adequately prepared him for Where the Wild Things Are, a intensely personal project that takes the ideas of the short and poetic source material and blows them up into one of bravest movies about the struggles of childhood ever made. Once Max (Max Records) gets to the island and meets his new friends, we begin to experience why he is so hostile and frustrated on the inside. Max still doesn't know why he is a part of the world, whether it be the real one or the creation of his psyche, a conflict the movie plays out sans sugar coating or quick answers. Being human is not easy, and as Max learns, trying to confide in creatures of the imagination is not much easier when all you know are scarred human emotions. It's thick stuff, but when it's all said and done, there's no question that a light does shine dimly at the end of the tunnel. It's up to us to decide how much brighter it will get.



1) Inglourious Basterds (dir. Quentin Tarantino)

How appropriate it is that the best movie of the final year of the decade is about the movies! I was a product of the Tarantino generation, and feel that I am better moviegoer for it. While others complained about his lack of originality, I was learning about how to love the movies; not just through his, but because of his. Tarantino borrows the framework, but what fills it is completely his. The man has evolved into a genius due to how he carefully explores the themes at hand, mostly through the behaviors and decisions of his characters. Inglourious Basterds, like his pictures before it, revolves around people who get in over their heads. But what Tarantino makes clear as always is that the mistakes belong to the characters, not him; everything that happens is so because they made it that way. This idea runs wild in Basterds like never before, as Tarantino lovingly toys with his audience by always keeping us in the moment, a tactic that he winds so tight we can never anticipate what he'll throw at us next. It's a movie lover's dream, a picture so enthralled with how movies effect us (and deviously trick us) that it hardly matters if the pieces fit coherently. That's not the point. The movies have the power to play by their own rules, and Tarantino understands this, hell he embraces it, as much as any filmmaker alive. We're lucky to have him.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010