This has been a strange year for film, at least in my corner. I'm used to things starting strong, with a healthy repertory season and leftovers from the previous year, followed by a weak midsection thanks to the preponderance of bloated summer blockbusters, and a strong finish thanks to last-minute Oscar hopefuls. Well, this year started strong, actually got better around the midsection, and kinda tailed off as it limped toward the finish line. Maybe I'm just not seeing the right films. Well, let's take a look at the films I did see.
Over the last year I saw 41 films in the theaters (a bit of a drop-off from last year's 49). Five of them were originally released in 2003, ten were festival or repertory screenings (four of which starred Alain Delon), and there was two re-releases (Monty Python's Life of Brian and the original Godzilla, of which I wrote in my Half-Time Report). That leaves 24 films released in 2004. That's seven less than last year. Like I said, it's been a strange year. Anyway, here are my picks:
Spartan [David Mamet] -- The first film I saw in 2004 that was actually released in 2004, Spartan was a lean suspense thriller with more on its mind than just finding screws and tightening them, but damn, was it good at that. Not only was this one of the best films Mamet has ever made, but it also gave Val Kilmer his best movie role in at least a decade as the government operative called in to investigate the abduction of the president's daughter. The story has a lot of twists and turns, but none of them are gratuitious and intellectually dishonest, which is a rare thing these days.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind [Michel Gondry] -- I have a confession to make: I am a Charlie Kaufman junkie. If he were to write a script about a guy who has a bad piece of pork and spends two hours sitting on the toilet, I would go see that movie. I have complete and utter faith that whatever he decides to set his considerable talents to will be worth my time and money. Even when one of his films isn't entirely successful (like, say, Human Nature or Confessions of a Dangerous Mind), there's still something worthwhile about them. That said, I had no problems whatsoever with Eternal Sunshine. It is as close to a perfect Charlie Kaufman film as I'm sure I'll ever see -- that is, until he comes up with the next one.
Kill Bill: Vol. 2 [Quentin Tarantino] -- What can I say about this film that hasn't already been said many, many times before? If you liked Kill Bill: Vol. 1, but wanted to know the reasons behind everything and what the characters' motivations were, Vol. 2 was the film for you. If you thought Vol. 1 had too much ultraviolence and not enough of Tarantino's patended dialogue, then ditto. And if you thought that Miramax was being greedy when they split the film up into two parts just so they could charge you double to see the whole thing, you've got them dead to rights. Just be thankful that Tarantino chickened out of his original plan of playing the Bride's demanded mentor Mai Pei. That could have been a disaster.
Twilight Samurai [Yoji Yamada] -- One of the nominees for Best Foreign Film last year, this was an elegantly-told story about a lowly retainer who bears a great many hardships (a crushing debt, the death of his consumptive wife, a senile mother, two small children) and is called upon by his masters to use his latent fighting skills -- which turn out to be quite formidable indeed. It's not often that you find a film of such seriousness that doesn't try to push your buttons constantly, either with music or gloppy voice-over narration. It's also very light on action, preferring to observe its characters as they go about their business, but when violence does break out, it is brief, brutal and very dangerous. This film is finally out on DVD, so if you like this sort of thing, you should definitely seek it out.
Spider-Man 2 [Sam Raimi] -- The only film I saw twice in the theaters this year, it definitely merited the extra viewing, but not because it had an overly complicated plot or eye-popping special effects (although the special effects were quite excellent). Rather, it was worth seeing again because it was a good story, well told. Without having to worry about setting up the characters, Raimi and his screenwriters were able to plunge us straight into Peter Parker's world and the problems he faces balancing work, school, love and his responsibilities as a superhero. The story arc will seem familiar to anyone who's seen Superman II, but that's no reason why it can't work again two decades later -- and it does. Plus, Bruce Campbell's cameo is hysterical.
Fahrenheit 9/11 [Michael Moore] -- Love him or hate him -- you can't really be on the fence about him -- Moore captured the zeitgeist of 2004 in a way a lot of people still can't get over. Pilloried for being a biased attack on George W. Bush and his disastrous domestic and foreign policies, Fahrenheit 9/11 was never meant to be a "fair and balanced" depiction of Bush's regime. It was made with a singular purpose -- to show people clearly and definitively why he shouldn't have been elected in November. That not enough people listened is painfully obvious, but the film still stands as one of the most hotly-debated of the year (along with that other film about the guy who gets beat up for two hours straight).
Before Sunset [Richard Linklater] -- I started the second half of the year with this, Linklater's follow-up to 1995's Before Sunrise, in which Ethan Hawke chatted up Julie Delpy on a train and talked her into spending the night with him in Vienna. When they parted ways the next morning, they made plans to meet up again in six months. This film picks up their story nine years later, when Hawke is in Paris at the end of a book tour promoting the novel he's written about that night. Delpy seeks him out and in the hour or so they have before he needs to catch a plane home, they decide to do some catching up. Turns out that night had an enormous effect on both of their lives, and not always for the better. Then again, who doesn't wonder what their life would be like if they had done things different?
I Heart Huckabees [David O. Russell] -- These are uncertain times we're living in. The death toll from the tsunami
continues to rise, the war on terror shows no sign of being "won" anytime soon, and we have four more years of George W. Bush to look forward to. Enter I Heart Huckabees, a film that says...well, I'm not entirely certain what it says, but I don't think it knows, either. I am certain, however, that this was one of the most idiosyncratic quasi-mainstream films to come out of a major studio in some time. And Mark Wahlberg's fearless performance -- as a firefighter who rides a bicycle to fires because of his concerns about our dependence on oil from the Middle East -- is one to behold.
Sideways [Alexander Payne] -- This is a film that sneaks up on you. Writer-director Payne and his co-writer Jim Taylor have carved out a comfortable niche for themselves observing the day-to-day lives of regular people coming to the end of their rope in films like Election and About Schmidt. Those were just a warm-up for Sideways, though, which gave the American cinema one of its most richly-drawn characters of recent vintage in Paul Giamatti's sad-sack failed novelist Miles (who nonetheless has an impeccable taste for wine). The film also has its moments of pure hilarity, which made it the perfect antidote for post-election depression.
The Incredibles [Brad Bird] -- Bird's The Iron Giant was one of the more wonderful surprises of the summer of 1999, but it got lost in the shuffle thanks to the failure of the Brothers Warner to market it right (see also The Powerpuff Girls Movie -- oh, that's right, you probably didn't). Other animators saw the film, though, including the people at Pixar, who came calling with an offer for Bird to make a film at their studio. The result was The Incredibles, the company's first PG-rated film and its first with an entirely human cast (although superhuman would probably be more accurate). Featuring stunning animation (really, is Pixar capable of anything else?), sharp writing and superb voice acting, this should have a lock on Best Animated Film at next year's Oscars. I mean, they wouldn't dare give it to Shrek 2, would they?
You may notice that there are only ten films -- as opposed to my standard eleven -- on this year's list. I just couldn't settle on a definitive eleventh, although any of the following probably could have fit the bill. Let's hear it for the honorable mentions: Guillermo del Toro's Hellboy (a hell of a thrill ride, which was eclipsed only by that other comic book movie), Guy Maddin's The Saddest Music in the World (one of those films that has to be seen to be disbelieved), Jim Jarmusch's Coffee and Cigarettes (a fun diversion), Takeshi Kitano's Zatoichi (a celebration and reimagination of a Japanese icon), Bill Condon's Kinsey (an accessible film about an inaccessible man who changed the course of human sexuality, some would say not for the better), Steven Soderbergh's Ocean's Twelve (as breezily entertaining as they come, it only comes up short when you compare it to its predecessor), Zhang Yimou's House of Flying Daggers (pretty to look at, impeccably-staged action sequences, and a story that consistently surprises), and Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (this year's Big Fish, a fable that doesn't hide its roots in the fantastic).
You know, now that I think about it, those last four films were the last four films I saw this year, so I guess it didn't end that badly. I just hope 2005 holds more promise, that's all.
Agree? Disagree? E-mail me at cjclark1973@yahoo.com.