Here you are, at long last, the final 15. I realize that the pictures for the 30-16 entry were a bit wonky. Hopefully it will look better for this entry. Again, this is a ‘favorite’ list, not a ‘best’. What were your favorites of the year?
15. A Separation (Farhadi)
Disputes become complicated very quickly, especially when the self-deception of individuals comes into play. Asghar Farhadi, who wrote and directed this masterful work, looks at the complex inner workings of individual desperation and pride. These motivations are presented through characters that are not malicious but are just trying to get by. Furthermore, Farhadi casts no judgment onto the various imperfect players involved, seeming to understand that situations get complicated fast. The truth becomes muddled beyond the comprehension of the law officers, immediate family members and even the two characters directly involved with the incident.
Farhadi presents this as a fact-of-life, combining universality and the specificity of Iranian culture. Every character is complex as the central incident and its aftermath unfolds at the same time as the breakdown of a marriage. There are no easy answers, no saints and no malevolence for malevolence sake. A Separation is heated from start-to-finish and it is impossible not to get caught up in all its sprawling glory as our sympathies shift and hover, grow and lessen. Reveals are slowly doled out with the skill of a deft thriller without getting caught up in any genre trappings. A Separation captures life in all its messiness.
14. Certified Copy (Kiarostami)
A film of halves; entirely based in conversation, simultaneously light and heavy. Certified Copy is about the burgeoning passion of a new love and companion, but also about the disintegration of a romance weighted down by history. It is a mysterious and ambiguous experience and the definition of transfixing. It is less about spending your time trying to decipher the exact nature of the central relationship and more about soaking in its essence, the conversation and the performances. It is about appreciating the ever-shifting but always simultaneous presence of the multiple phases of a dense relationship.
However one chooses to interpret or not interpret Abbas Kiarostami’s Certified Copy, it ensures that it can be experienced in a multitude of contexts, forming its own unique relationship with the viewer that is all their own. While this is something that always occurs with film and is something we often take for granted, Certified Copy seems to exist for this purpose, and what a gift it is.
13. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (Yates)
It is at this point where the numbers become even more arbitrary than they already are. Honestly, I love this film as much as my number 1. So think of these next 13 films as essentially being equal with each other in my mind.
Deathly Hallows: Part 2 represented the end of an era for me and the countless others that grew up a Harry Potter fan. I grew with this series; the first film came out when I was fourteen. I may not have been a child as the franchise started (it was through the films that I became a fan of the books, not the other way around) but I threw myself whole-heartedly into the books and films, and my adolescence was positively littered with Potter-dom. I still believe it is somewhat taken for granted that we were able to experience a franchise that ran this long and that stayed this arguably consistent in quality. The Potter series means more than words to me, so to find that the final film met my expectations to the utmost was in certain regards more rewarding than anything else I saw this year.
Nothing impressed me more than Snape’s swan song; an appropriate tribute to the character, heartbreakingly played by Alan Rickman. The battles and buildup are as successfully epic as the seven films of buildup have sustained. The entire picture is wall-to-wall dazzling, enhancing Part 1 and striving boldly and confidently forth to its capstone conclusion. While nothing can quite match my first experience of it, it ranks in the top three of the franchise for me. This series will be a part of me the rest of my life and I cherish my ability to revisit it at any time I please.
12. Hugo (Scorsese)
I thought it wise to pair my two favorite ‘children’s’ films together. Even more than Harry Potter (where adults represent a large portion of its legions of fans), Hugo feels made more for adult appreciation than for kids. This is not to say that children will not enjoy it as it does contain more than enough of the magic and intrigue that comes with children’s fantasy. Indeed, it has the unmatchable splendor of its own contained world; a train station in 1920’s Paris. It has a central mystery, a mysterious key, automatons, a colorful cast of inhabitants and the rediscovery of a forgotten legend.
Martin Scorsese makes Hugo a singular film experience for several reasons, entirely making up for any uneven pacing or eventual anti-mystery. The first is the 3D; it will be interesting to see how the film fares without it. It functions almost as a physical argument for the form. It does not have to be a gimmick; when someone with legitimate drive to make use of the form, to mold it to support and enhance the world within, it can be unforgettable.
The second is the sense of wonder it contains which is infectious and addictive. Scorsese makes you want to stay in that station. Amidst the darker plot appendages, there is an exuberance, the uniqueness of fantastical discovery that brings one back to childhood. The third is the heart of Hugo, as it reveals itself to be a tribute to the magic of film through its love for central character George Melies.
There is an understanding of what we all see in film that makes us love it so, that brings about an instantly deep connection with Hugo. This aspect of it is what comes straight from the director’s heart, whose passionate work for film preservation is constant and incredibly important. Hugo left me in a drunken haze of film appreciation and an unparalleled respect for the origins of an art form.
11. The Tree of Life (Malick)
I suppose many think this should be much higher on this list. Love it though I do, there is a connection with certain films that I make that results in thinking of said film as ‘one of mine’. It is a relatable feeling to see something and to form a connection with it that allows it to be hoarded amongst a collection of personal favorites. I have this connection with The Thin Red Line and with Badlands and with large chunks of The Tree of Life. Most of the film, starting with the formation of the universe and leading almost through to the end is a transcendent voyage unlike any other. For some reason though, the Sean Penn bookends and the somewhat problematic portrayal of Jessica Chastain (the character, not the performance; she is wonderful) as an all-too angelic saintly mother struck a wrong chord for me. I also question the film’s depth, mainly because The Tree of Life seems more like a record of the memory and singular experience of childhood and a pondering drift through life’s big questions and origins as opposed to something that is particularly complicated in essence. It’s technical achievement, construction and execution is more complicated and ingenious than words can describe, but the finished product, to me at least, does not feel like it is meant to anything but a gloriously complex (in form) but ultimately abstract expression.
More than anything, I do not want this interpretation of abstraction to be taken as a knock; this is what I love about it. I feel lucky to have experienced something this beautiful, poetic, enchanting and moving. I felt brought back to childhood despite watching an individual depiction of it, and the strange and elemental feelings I experienced while watching is something I will never forget. And its drifting ponderous nature; this is also what I love about The Tree of Life. It considers the big and the small and asks us to glide along with it as it moves in and out of its many facets. Terrence Malick has so much skill that he is able to take us through his thoughts and Jack’s memories with the kind of ambition that results in something new and special. Parts of it feel like a continuation on what Walt Disney was getting at with his ‘Rite of Spring’ segment of Fantasia. Other parts feel like a journey of growing up, of the realization that parents expect things of you and that innocence can no longer be maintained. No film this year or in the past several years has been discussed and delved into more than The Tree of Life. While I feel that the film is more of an experience, something that to a degree defies analyzing, it is justifiably worshipped by many in the kind of passionate way that only Malick can incite.
I Saw the Devil is an example of a film I hoard as ‘one of mine’. I perk up when I hear its name, I want to shove it into people’s eyes and praise it to the high heavens. Because I Saw the Devil does something extremely clever with the revenge genre; it sets out to be the end-all be-all, to distill its cliches into an essence of basic emotions, using repetition and pure brutality to really get at what this genre is all about.
What others may see as one-note is actually a very purposeful execution complete with uncomplicated character types and uncomplicated motivations. It uses what may be considered weaknesses in other films and turns them around, using it to an advantage. I Saw the Devil takes revenge as far as it can go, thereby making it automatically relevant. The film excels, because noted South Korean director Kim Ji-woon knows how to tell a story with effectiveness and panache, unlike many others who venture down extremist territory.
The idea that one must become a monster to destroy a monster is familiar. The really wonderful study that takes place in the film are Soo-hyun’s craving to prolong the satisfying feeling revenge gives him, and the idea of revenge as a functioning stopgap between the actual mourning process.
Kim Ji-Woon is a filmmaker who knows how and when to use style. He chooses his moments carefully and infuses them with a trendy sensibility without allowing style to overwhelm his film. His always impeccably choreographed fight scenes are on display, riveting as ever. A confrontation in a greenhouse as well as a rather incredible scene that takes place in a taxi cab are two examples where Kim’s penchant for building up tension and delivering action heavy scenes are on display.
The pacing here is among the most accomplished of 2011. Clocking in at almost two and a half hours, the film flies by, yet it never feels rushed. Kim takes his time letting the story unfold and allowing atmosphere and mood to sink in, without the running time ever imposing itself. It is fully engrossing throughout which is not an easy feat.
I have seen this film twice and it strengthened for me the second time; it is and exhausting roller-coaster that is well worth the ride.
I will be the first to admit that Hanna is not entirely strong. The father-daughter relationship falters, and Wright’s attempts to create a layered fairy tale do not pan out with quite the success he clearly wants it to. But for a multitude of reasons, Hanna is a stylized dream come true for me.
Joe Wright takes himself completely out of his comfort zone with an entirely new type of project. The resulting visual experimentation from Wright’s involvement is invigorating to the extreme; a feast on the eyes and ears that overcomes the script’s shortcomings. His use of tracking shots, extreme close-ups, extreme long shots, handheld camera work and much more all contribute to Hanna’s singularly high-powered style. He also keeps a lot of the action in camera, making the choreography stand out. Whether creating an engaging hyper-stylistic action set piece or subjectively aligning the audience with Hanna’s experiences, Wright always has motivations for his choices and it is a delight to work through them while watching the film.
Along with Wright and Ronan, the third irreplaceable element of Hanna is the score provided by The Chemical Brothers. As opposed to using music to manipulate the audience into certain emotions, Wright creates several different effects with the sound of hypnotic bass-heavy electronica. The score is first introduced at a very precisely chosen moment. Throughout, the music forms a cohesive relationship with the diegetic sound, with both influencing and informing each other. It is also used to crucially represent and accompany each of the action set-pieces. The music The Chemical Brothers have created here is addictive and is as important anything in Hanna.
When all is said and done, Hanna had me entirely at “I just missed your heart”.
It may seem contradictory to say that Lars von Trier’s end-of-the world opus is the director as his most peaceful and life-affirming; but it is. This isn’t to say that Melancholia is sunshine and rainbows; just look at the title and basic plot synopsis. But this is the Danish auteur reaching out and making a human connection with his audience as much as he likely ever will. It is a meditative exploration of the unexpectedly dichotomous nature (and the ways the two converge) between depression that renders one immobile in life, and having to face that which we will all eventually come to meet; death.
Dunst and von Trier, both having first-hand experience with depression, make painstaking connections with Justine that culminate in an uncompromising understanding and loyalty to her. They are unwilling to cater to standard cause-and-effect rules of characterization or to apologize for the frustration and lack of sympathy she can elicit. For those of us who know what bouts of depression are like, this reveals it in all of its extreme truths and ugliness. Von Trier’s previous film Antichrist was made as he went through a severe depression, and no matter what one thinks of that work, looking at Melancholia in the context of a follow-up to his previous film will make for worthwhile discourse someday. In fact, it seems like an entirely essential context to have going into the film.
Melancholia is one of those films that successfully fulfill their ambitions in dealing with profound and fundamental subject matter on a grand level of intellectually-based intuition. You come away with, yes lots to talk about, but just as importantly, a feeling that a filmmaker has come upon something almost indescribable that gets at how we experience life, death and what it all means (or ultimately doesn’t mean). Synecdoche, New York is one of these films (an example that goes about it in an infinitely complex fashion, whereas Melancholia and The Tree of Life is based in abstraction and how the writers’directors have experienced life.) The Tree of Life is another. Some might call these films pretentious but this is reductive and dismissive. Lars von Trier’s latest film is his most accessible, but is no less thought-provoking. In fact, if there is one film that will temporarily win over his detractors, it would be this one. It takes us through the cathartic process of grieving mankind with a scrutinizing look at depression, death, acceptance and world annihilation with an uncharacteristically humanistic eye.
7. The Arbor (Bernard)
Speaking of Synecdoche, New York, here is a film that gets at truth through conceptual reenactment and fiction. What could have been a disastrous execution (the film consists of interviews lip-synched by actors who address the camera) is just the opposite. The past comes to life, going beyond narrative and documentary films, achieving something that exists in between.
The actors become a vessel for the voices and the people behind them. The actors are literal messengers, and having them address the camera, and in turn the audience, creates an intimate connection between the documentaries subject and those who knew her, and us. We also get to know subject Andrea Dunbar through watching segments of her plays performed by actors in the actual slums of Bradford, West Yorkshire where she grew up and lived.
The Arbor is about as deeply depressing as it gets, and director Clio Bernard keeps the frames uncluttered, letting the format and interview material speak for itself by presenting it in a progressive but simple way.
6. We Need To Talk About Kevin (Ramsay)
Here we go with the word abstract again; I tend to love films presented in such a way. The visual representation of an emotional state and a literal materialization of the fearful apathy of motherhood are what We Need to Talk About Kevin is getting at. I may love this film partly because Lionel Shriver’s novel is one of my absolute favorites, and I was able to see Eva and immediately heap upon her 450 pages of the author’s anything but abstract contextualization. The symbolism may be is in-your-face with splattered reds everywhere (for a start), but it represents a state of being and a constant reminder of the guilt and loss Eva feels that cannot be expunged. Kevin exists as the embodiment of a worst-case scenario, a being whose chief understanding of the world is borne out of his instinctual knowledge of Eva’s motherly indifference.
5. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (Alfredson)
When Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy ended, I immediately wanted to revisit it, getting the sense that my love and appreciation for it would only grow over time. Above all other films from this past year, I became the most attached to Tinker’s feel and atmosphere above any other. Tomas Alfredson’s second feature (his first being Let the Right One In), is another adaptation. Everything from the cinematography to Alberto Iglesias’ fabulously wistful jazz score is in a lurking state of mourning.
The film mourns for an era fading before the characters eyes with its air of grey repression amidst the period world of Britain’s M-16 intelligence. It boils down the plot density of the novel into its essentials, without ever having narrative clarity as its priority. Reading the novel before seeing the film did allow me a basic understanding of what happens (which was a task in itself as I find myself easily lost within these types of stories), but the film is not about that. With the ensemble cast of the year, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is a treasure trove of intrigue.
It is an all too uncommon feeling when a film ends and you realize you are not yet ready to leave its world. This is the feeling I had when Drive ended. It is a slick retro ride, filled with homage and influence, operating as a nostalgic demonstration of American genre filmmaking and oozing European sensibilities, complete with existentialist sleaze and minimalist touches. It is a hybrid creature that dabbles in a number of genres that are all in harmony through Nicolas Winding Refn’s infectious appreciation for using cinema to create mood and atmosphere.
It is clear that Refn has been influenced at every turn. But it is not a hollow experience; far from it. Perhaps what impressed me the most about Drive is the smoothness with which Refn blends what is a clear unabashed love for both high and low art. He lets them bleed together in what can be succinctly described as effortless cool. There is a stable assuredness in every shot, every movement and every creative choice made here. One cannot help but want to revisit Drive and explore those choices, the motivations behind them and why they work as well as they do. This is confident filmmaking on display. The mere construction of it is something to behold.
The thankless female characters may be a slight misstep, but it is a minor quibble. With Drive, Refn represents cinema at its most assured, plowing directly into the heart of genre filmmaking.
Jeff Nichols does not play the ‘is he or isn’t he’ game with his audience; Curtis (Michael Shannon) is succumbing to paranoid schizophrenia. We are invited to simultaneously experience events as the protagonist does, and to see the reality of the situation at the same time. Take Shelter is an astonishing second feature by director Nichols whose first feature Shotgun Stories, plays out as pre-destined Greek tragedy. The interplay between conscious choice and being pulled further and further into something that was, on some level, always going to happen is present in both films. In Take Shelter, poor conscious decisions are made by Curtis, but he is also being helplessly dragged down by family legacies and a general feeling of doom.
Take Shelter affected me quite heavily, mainly because it preyed on my fears and depicted them in ways that service the sad reality of the situation as opposed to the heightened subjective journey. After death, going insane might be my biggest fear. It is the suddenness of certain disorders existence that strikes me. Some of the heavier psychological disorders don’t creep their way into you; they make sudden and grandiose entrances.
Curtis’ psychological descent clearly represents the current state of America, and the film never tries to hide this. Nichols wants you to know what he is really getting at. There are a couple of reasons it works. One is that the film does not feel preachy even in its openness; in fact, its message feels necessary. No matter what your political inclinations are, it is difficult not to feel the growing sense of dread all around us. Nichols takes that familiarized feeling and translates it into a different filmic context. In that sense, Take Shelter is frightening in its resonance. It may manifest itself openly, but Take Shelter works hauntingly well because of Nichols’ precision and ability to have his film make its mark in more ways than one.
When discussing Project Nim, it becomes tempting to immediately spring into all-out praise mode. James Marsh approaches stories from different angles. 2008’s Man on Wire functions as a heist narrative. Project Nim is a chimpanzee biopic. Herb Terrace’s experiment was amateurish and botched from the start. By default, this allows Marsh to focus all his energies on telling Nim’s heartbreaking story, using archival footage and some very honest and candid interviews by the many people who came in and out of Nim’s life.
Project Nim is structured as a biopic that allows us to be acquainted with Nim as well as understand our incapacity to truly know a wild animal. All of the action is focused around the chimp, but the film says so much more through the story it tells. It is about humanity and our need to control and manipulate everything to be more like us. It is about the incompetence of man. It is about the well-meaning individuals like Joyce Butler, who care so deeply but are powerless in the bigger picture, and those like Bob Ingersol and Dr. James Mahoney, who never give up on making a difference.
Those who see Project Nim will be heartbroken. It works on many different levels, but people will remember first and foremost the story of Nim’s unstable life. James Marsh has told an unforgettable story and Project Nim is a true accomplishment.
1. Young Adult (Reitman)
Young Adult sadly did not connect with audiences based on box-office numbers and divided the people who did take the time to go see it. My number one was not clear this year; over the last few weeks, I have had about five different films in the top slot. So many character types have had countless films of their own, but to tread new ground and focus with someone like Mavis Gary offers something fresh and new; it took me in entirely. The film would not have succeeded if some did not walk away annoyed and frustrated; this only enhances how uncompromising and ugly its honesty can be.
Jason Reitman and Diablo Cody have created something that feels completely organic; effortless and seemingly simple when it is actually incredibly layered and intricate. Cody knows Mavis Gary in-and-out and pulls no punches when presenting her to us. She is delusional and ruthless; a total basket case who lives either in one extreme lazy sweats and reality TV consumption or another extreme of all-day primping as she presents herself to her old town with unrelenting purpose.
Theron fully inhabits Mavis as someone who cannot see past her own perspective or selfishness. She seems genuinely confused by the existence of certain emotions, and seeing her try to fake her way through them when she needs to is truly something else. This is also the first film I have seen to depict Trichotillomania and I have a special appreciation of the film for this reason. It is a compulsive disorder I have lived with since a young age, only with me the eyelashes are victimized and not the hair as with Mavis.
Young Adult turns expectations on its head with its kitchen scene that denies the audience the expected character turnaround, except that Cody dangles the possibility in front of our face first, making it all the more fascinating. Mavis’ relationship with Patton Oswalt’s Matt is one of the more distinctive interactions between two characters I have seen as he brings a self-aware sadness and longing to the proceedings. He is filled with the same emotions as Mavis but one is delusional while the other is not.
Young Adult is a film I felt an instant connection with; I laughed a lot, I cringed a lot, but mostly I admired the delicate craftsmanship at work from the spot-on writing and directing to the perfect acting. It is a blistering piece that is on the one hand an awkward comedy about emotionally stunted growth. On the other, it is a frighteningly candid character study about how sad it is to be so constricted by a superiority complex and perception of the world including where one places oneself within it.
Complete List of Films Seen in 2011: 13 Assassins, 50/50, A Better Life, A Dangerous Method, Albert Nobbs, American Grindhouse, Another Earth, Attack the Block, Beastly, Beginners, Being Elmo, Bellflower, Bill Cunningham, New York, Biutiful, Black Death, Bobby Fischer Against the World, Bridesmaids, Buck, Cameraman: the Life and Work of Jack Cardiff, Captain America: The First Avenger, Carnage, Cars 2, Caterpillar, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, Cedar Rapids, Certified Copy, Cold Fish, Cold Weather, Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, Contagion,, Cracks, Crazy, Stupid, Love, Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame, Dream Home, Drive, Edge of Dreaming, Hanna, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, Hesher, Hobo with a Shotgun, Horrible Bosses, Hugo, I Saw the Devil, If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front, In a Better World, In Time, Incendies, Insidious, J. Edgar, Jane Eyre, Kung Fu Panda 2, Last Night, Le Quattro Volte, Love Crime, Margin Call, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Meek’s Cutoff, Melancholia, Midnight in Paris, Mildred Pierce, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, Moneyball, My Week with Marilyn, Of Gods and Men, Outrage, Page One: Inside the New York Times, Passion Play, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, Poetry, Project Nim, Rampart, Rango, Red Riding Hood, Red State, Redline, Retreat, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Rubber, Scream 4, Senna, Shame, Sleeping Beauty, Source Code, Submarine, Sucker Punch, Super, Super 8, Tabloid, Take Shelter, Terri, The Adventures of Tintin, The Arbor, The Artist, The Debt,The Descendants, The Devil’s Double, The Double Hour, The Future, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Green Hornet, The Help, The Housemaid, The Ides of March, The Last Circus, The Lincoln Lawyer, The Mill and the Cross, The Muppets, The Rite, The Roommate, A Separation, The Skin I Live In, The Sleeping Beauty, The Thing, The Tree of Life, The Trip, The Ward, The Woman, Thor, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, TrollHunter, Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, Tyrannosaur, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, Unknown, War Horse, Warrior, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Weekend, Win Win, Winnie the Pooh, X-Men: First Class, Young Adult, Your Highness, Yves Saint-Laurent: L’Amour Fou
More than halfway through January, I give you my 30 favorite films of the year. The final 15 will be up on Thursday. These are my favorites; not a list of the ‘best’ of the year, although it goes without saying I believe these are all excellent films. The idea of a restricting Top 10 sort of irritates me; I’ve always been someone who likes to broaden the field and point out a variety of different films that stuck out to me. Margaret, Into the Abyss, Love Exposure and The Mysteries of Lisbon are examples of gaping holes in my film viewing for this year. But I did get to a total of 136 films seen from 2011 and I feel like I saw the vast majority of what I had meant to. I’m thrilled with the group of films that stuck out for me this year. The films that just missed out on a spot were Super 8, The Sleeping Beauty, Tabloid, Rango, Kung Fu Panda 2, The Descendants, Love Crime, Weekend, 50/50, 13 Assassins, Meek’s Cutoff and Crazy, Stupid, Love. I’d love to come up with an introduction to this list that covered the year in film but so much has already been written in ways that go far beyond what I would have been capable to coming up with. I took snippets from my reviews for the films I reviewed here at some point this year, with links provided for the full reviews if anyone is interested. Without further ado…30-16!
30. Bridesmaids (Feig)
It looks like Bridesmaids actually has a semblance of chance for a slot in the Best Picture race this year. Whether it happens or not is almost irrelevant; it is the mere chance that surprises. This notion brings with it much backlash. Between that and the constant references to the shitting in the sink scene (which at this point feels like it is the only scene in the film based on how often it gets brought up), it is easy to forget just how funny and surprisingly layered the film really is.
That the film is only ever put into the context of ‘see, women can be funny too’ proves just how sad the state of female-driven comedies is. Wiig and Annie Mumolo did not set out to prove anything here, but everyone acts as if they did. We should be past the point where an ensemble female comedy is a revelation, but based on the constant contextual discussions of Bridesmaids, it is clear we are not. It does not help that it was advertised using the idea of females doing comedy essentially as a gimmick.
After all is said and done though, it is about the flawed Annie (Kristen Wiig) who has reached a point in her life where nothing has worked out the way she planned. Her only stable focal point is her friendship with Lillian (Maya Rudolph). When Lillian’s wedding plans are taken over by Rose Byrne’s wealthy stylish woman who threatens to replace her as best friend (in Annie’s insecure eyes), she fights fire with fire by being petty and selfish, much to the amusement of the audience. But the film is about her realizing how she handles those situations, seeing her come to terms with that and being ready to rebuild her life. Annie’s character struck a chord with me; this along with Wiig’s performance is why I was so impressed with Bridesmaids as a whole. Is it too long? Yes. Does every joke hit its mark? No. Yet this is one of my favorite comedies to come along in a good long while. Really truly good comedies are infrequent these days (case in point; only three comedies are on this list). This is one of the good ones.
29. Moneyball (Miller)
There are going to be several films on this list that really took me by surprise and the first is Moneyball. I had really no interest in seeing this; in fact it took about 3 months and a rerelease for me to drag myself to the theater to see it. Sports films are generally not a genre I gravitate towards. What is so striking about 2011 is that four sports films made my list of favorites this year; an unprecedented number. Moneyball is mostly a behind-the-scenes look at baseball and how one person tries to change the deeply embedded system using unheard of strategies. It is the classic underdog tale, told with soul, drive, and a spirit of infectious perseverance headlined by Brad Pitt’s performance, which highlights Beane’s hasty insistence and inner detachment when he seals himself off from others. We know how the story ends, but the film earns the audience’s reservations as to how triumph could possibly reign supreme. Moneyball lifted me up and left me feeling roused and inspired.
The Trip boasts an unusual combination of dialogue-heavy comedy, of scenic travelogue complete with a focus on high-end food and finally a somber self-reflexive experiment. While these are occasionally at odds with each other, The Trip is hilarious from start-to-finish and ultimately insightful because of the persistent and atypical way it goes about making its point.
Their conversations are thoroughly escapist, with a strong air of competition. They throw themselves into moments, songs, melodies and impressions. They are constantly trying to one-up each other, whether by seeing who does the better Michael Caine impression or by testing how many octaves each can sing in. Steve may say to others on the phone that Rob is a ‘pain in the ass’, but he clearly gets something out of his hesitant friendship with Rob; the irreverence between the two and their conversations. Each knows what to expect from the other. Steve knows he can vent his frustrations by taking jabs at Rob’s career. He knows their friendship is based on nonsensical conversations. This allows a safety net of irreverence to form for Steve.
Underneath all of the improvised hilarity, The Trip is about understanding Steve and Rob’s friendship, where it comes from, how the film is using their repeatedly competitive conversations and what it all means. Some will see it as a film that goes nowhere. This is precisely the point; it is a story about fame and emptiness, which has been addressed in many recent films, but told in an uproarious, refreshing and unconventional way.
27. Win Win (McCarthy)
As I began watching Win Win on a plane destined for Korea (the TV’s reset themselves several times, forcing me to watch this over the course of four hours), at first I was not enjoying it. It felt like the kind of middle-of-the-road indie that tries really hard to garner some chuckles with some predictable music that evokes that delightfully amused small-town sound that so many films have. Once Alex Shaffer’s Kyle entered and got the story rolling, I found myself increasingly involved. By the last half hour I was glued to the screen, only several inches away from the small TV on the backseat. All of the characters feel dimensional by the end, and it sets up a complicated dilemma that has no easy answers. It is sweet and endearing without ever feeling slight. Tom McCarthy’s writing underlines the place that wrestling has in the characters’ lives, so that when it falls to the wayside for a domestically dramatic scenario to settle in, the sport always feels thematically front and center. Not to mention that Alex Shaffer’s real-life wrestling skills which make his sport-centered scenes a treat.
Sometimes it is the films that surprise us that become the most rewarding film experiences. They make us realize that so many films come with high expectations impossible to meet. What a breath of fresh air it is to go into a film with very low expectations, with no sign of the dreaded hype machine in tow, and to be completely won over to the point where my emotions were running as high as they could.
Steeped in the throes of Greek tragedy, Warrior takes chamber-piece family drama to the arena of MMA. Knowingly playing with clichés and being able to deliver on familiar grounds can be just as difficult to execute properly. It is no small task, but the film is able to deliver. The first hour is a lot of set-up. It is transparent where almost all of these scenes are going, but it conveys them with an unexpectedly quiet meditation. This gives the actors and the circumstances they have to play a refreshing amount of room to breathe. By the end, proportions of such raw physical intensity are reached that you can actually feel the decades of family dynamics being brought into the arena. The result is a well-earned cathartic finale as powerful as anything I have seen this year.
P.S – Make this a double bill with South Korea’s equally impressive 2005 boxing drama Crying Fist; you will not be sorry.
Jane Eyre succeeds because what it does take on is executed with memorable specificity as well as containing some of the best chemistry between two romantic leads in years. For those who are sick of the kinds of romance films that come put today, whether comedy, drama or fantasy, Jane Eyre provides an opportunity to revisit a classic.
Many period films, especially those depicting the Victorian era, unsurprisingly and understandably tend to have the same look and feel. Fukunaga and cinematographer Adriano Goldman create a very precise atmosphere, making full use of the many conventions of the Gothic romance. The film feels naturally lit throughout, creating an often dark and gloomy look with muted grey and brown tones. The barren landscapes, wind and rain and foreboding manors are just a few conventions employed here with stunning effect. Dario Marianelli’s score fills the soundtrack with emotive violins that express the suppressed passion that Jane and Rochester keep below the surface.
Mia Wasikowska, destined for an exciting lifetime of impressive performances, captures the essence of Jane Eyre. Her dignity, guardedness and centered unwavering morals are all perfectly portrayed. She is understated and powerful, conveying subtle transitions in her face at every turn. It might just be the perfect incarnation of the heroine.
It is a rare thing when the two romantic leads have the chemistry the story demands them to have; these two do. The film is most engaging when the two are onscreen together, not just from of the power their scenes have, but because of the way they portray the evolution of their relationship. Buffini makes sure that different circumstances surround each scene they have together, making every single interaction between the two unique.
The film may heavily dilute several themes from the book in a disappointing way, but Wasikowska infuses her performance with what is missing. Was yet another adaptation necessary? Probably not, but it is hard to imagine anyone complaining about it after seeing Fukunaga and Buffini’s splendid interpretation.
24. The Last Circus (Iglesia)
The most utterly berserk and unbridled film from this year, The Last Circus is a nutzoid accomplishment plagued with political undertones (and in-your-face purpose; hello opening credits) from the Franco regime of the 1970’s. A love triangle between two clowns and an acrobat (who is the definition of the self-destructive male fantasy woman), the film inhabits a heightened predicament where love, suffering, violence and insanity all inhabit the same space and become interchangeable. Most films have a set trajectory, where you have some sense of where it will go, even if you do not know how it will get there. The Last Circus reaches what I assumed would be its climactic scene before the halfway point and I realized I had absolutely no idea where it was headed next. It was an unfamiliar and exhilarating realization and I watched as the film darted off into entirely wacky and surreal territory. The last scene which gives off a feeling of finality, hopelessness and defeat is a singular moment in the film. The Last Circus is unforgettable.
23. Midnight in Paris (Allen)
Had it not been for Rachel McAdams’ increasingly shrill caricature, this would be even higher on my list. Considering how much love I have for this film, and seeing it in the 23 slot, it becomes clear just how necessary I feel it is to move beyond the idea of a Top 10. Indeed, this is one of my favorites from Allen, carrying that same magical air as The Purple Rose of Cairo (my absolute favorite from him). Leaving the theater with a giant gleaming smile on my face, Midnight in Paris wins people over for its literalized and fantastical look at the idea of nostalgia and yearning for a time past. And using 1920’s Paris for that is probably the most idealized time and place there is. Owen Wilson proves to be the perfect Allen avatar, neurosis and rationalizing take precedence with him. To see him this enthralled with all the artistic figures of the past is contagious. The romantic and rational sides of Allen interact here and come to several different conclusions. It’s a vicarious dream come true.
McQueen has the confidence of a veteran; his vision is clear and he presents it with poise. Between this and Hunger, it is obvious that long takes are his strong suit. One more film from him and they will be a fully-fledged trademark. He risks distracting the audience but he does not; his lengthy observations make us more attentive, more aware of the physical space and of body language. They allow us to get a fuller sense of the performances and they enhance the notion of the audience observing Brandon through the glass-plate walls; he is a test subject. McQueen distances us with the sterile environment and cagey glass. He puts us up close when it counts, and when it becomes important to unsettle the audience. Fassbender and Mulligan are astounding.
McQueen uses Brandon as cornerstone representative for addiction with a sibling dynamic ripe for rich exploration. Brandon’s surprisingly conventional, but no less powerful, arc towards disintegration is tinted with more hope than one would expect. Shame is arresting cinema that loyally follows its self-loathing protagonist wherever he may go.
Senna plays more like a narrative feature than any documentary in recent memory. Gripping from the start and refusing to let go, this immersive story will enthrall the viewer regardless of their ignorance of Formula One racing and/or three time Grand Prix world champion, Brazilian driver Ayrton Senna. Entirely comprised of archival footage, Senna offers a rare privilege of access for a documentary, resulting in a wholly distinct experience. It does not feel like you are watching something that has already happened; instead it largely unfolds as if for the first time.
I was the only one in my theater when I saw Senna, and I was allowed to have an emotional reaction with a freedom rarely afforded within the theater-going experience. By the end, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. Interestingly enough, the two documentaries on this list spurred a stronger emotive response than anything else I saw this year.
20. Poetry (Lee)
Lee Chang-dong has a knack for staying a couple of steps away from melodrama with his unadorned camera and plots that never feel like plots. In some ways, he is the opposite of melodrama, but he somehow always gives off a sense of it without it defining or even distracting from his pictures. On the one hand, the film is a gentle tale of an elderly woman creeping up on Alzheimer’s who strives to understand how poetry works, looking everywhere for inspiration in order to write a poem. If this sounds nauseating, do not make the mistake of judging Poetry; it has none of the sentiment or predictability the story suggests.On the other hand, there is the tale of a horrific family crime committed, how Mi-ja copes with it as she deals with the aftermath of forced interaction for all parties involved and their differing motivations.
Lee mixes plot elements in ways that are unfamiliar and new, without ever having it feel like something is conventionally unfolding. His two films made after his time as Korea’s Minister of Culture and Tourism heavily deal with coping, the unforeseen circumstances surrounding tragedy and the various ways people try to coexist with their personal tragedies. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting.
19. Tyrannosaur (Considine)
Actor Paddy Considine’s directorial debut sticks us with some pretty miserable folk. That Peter Mullan’s train-wreck of a protagonist, unable to keep himself contained for a moment, is the one that comes to be Hannah’s (Olivia Colman) only support system says it all. Tyrannosaur works because of the central relationship where mutually affectionate moments are able to burst through the defense mechanisms, secrets and stubbornness of the characters and the relentlessly bleak and violent nature of the film.
This is one of those ‘what do I do with myself now’ films that send one off into the world with a fuzzy haze of hopelessness. Some may not think it is worth it or that it does not justify being this depressing. But I appreciate Considine’s insistence on showing us two complicated people with no easy explanations to their predicaments or personalities. It is the matter-of-factness of it that I admire. Mullan has more rage than all the ‘angry young men’ characters of British cinema combined. He’s like the middle-aged present day result of those guys. Colman is in the most horrifically abusive marriage imaginable and has reached the point where excuses and suffering have seemingly buried escape.
18. Martha Marcy May Marlene (Durkin)
That Martha Marcy May Marlene held my spot at number 1 for a time after I saw it indicates that we have approached an even more intense level of appreciation for the films left on this list. Martha Marcy May Marlene disturbingly displays the susceptible nature of the mind and what mankind is capable of subverting through mutual groupthink. It is a complicated character study about a young woman unable to assimilate herself in any environment, and is left with heaps of traumas, sadly stubborn lingering ideologies and zero sense of self. She is a nearly broken being. Sean Durkin wrote and executed this story with staggering maturity. Some broad supporting characterization and some overstated dialogue only mildly hinder the experience. The complex characterization headlined by Olsen and the tension that instills the audience makes for a fearless film from a debut filmmaker.
17. Incendies (Villeneuve)
It has been many many months since I watched Incendies; almost a year. If I saw it again, it may even garner a higher spot on this list. After Biutiful and In a Better World left me underwhelmed (and with the former, downright annoyed), this is the other foreign language film nominee from last year’s Oscars that left an impact on me (the other is Dogtooth, which was my third favorite film of 2010, only to become my favorite after a rewatch taking over from Black Swan). It seems redundant to say that Incendies is involving, especially since I have been describing a number of films on this list as such. However, where some films involve me so much because I did not expect them to, for its thematic content or for filmmaking aspects more than anything else visceral or otherwise, Incendies involved me on a level of pure storytelling. There is no other film that involved me more this year (although several match it) on a storytelling level.
Remarkably devastating, the film balances political strife with the intensely personal and wraps it up in a disturbing familial central mystery. Several sequences are riveting, led by the wonderful Lubna Azabal. The film never feels small, with all of its war-torn setting, the unstoppable presence of politics and war and the linking of past and present using a flashback structure. Incendies leaves an indelible and powerful mark.
16. Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (Bird)
This is the most fun I had at the movies this year; by far the most satisfying action film I have seen since 2006’s Casino Royale. Brad Bird’s live-action debut proves that he has a knack for creating increasingly complicated set-pieces, never losing the high levels of energy, fun and genuine excitement he sets up for himself. There is literally no depth to this film at all and we are all the better for it.
This is what escapist cinema is all about. Seeing Tom Cruise reliably bringing his irreplaceable screen presence to the non-character that is Ethan Hunt is all we need. His penchant for doing as much of his own stunts as he can culminates in the stunning sequence atop the tallest skyscraper in the world; Dubai’s Burj Khalifa. There are no green-screen effects here; the cameras are filming onsite and Cruise really is leaping around and climbing on the outside. It is indescribably thrilling and revitalizing to see an action film pull out all the stops and give us onsite set-pieces that are a much-needed antidote to the typical green-screen action scene. Filmed in IMAX, it feels like we are up there with him; and this is only one scene. Each sequence would be a memorable standout of any other film; Ghost Protocol just gives us one after the other, constantly matching itself. The entire film keeps up this level of entertainment. To put it simply; I did not want this film to end.
Complete List of Films Seen in 2011: 13 Assassins, 50/50, A Better Life, A Dangerous Method, Albert Nobbs, American Grindhouse, Another Earth, Attack the Block, Beastly, Beginners, Being Elmo, Bellflower, Bill Cunningham, New York, Biutiful, Black Death, Bobby Fischer Against the World, Bridesmaids, Buck, Cameraman: the Life and Work of Jack Cardiff, Captain America: The First Avenger, Carnage, Cars 2, Caterpillar, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, Cedar Rapids, Certified Copy, Cold Fish, Cold Weather, Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, Contagion,, Cracks, Crazy, Stupid, Love, Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame, Dream Home, Drive, Edge of Dreaming, Hanna, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, Hesher, Hobo with a Shotgun, Horrible Bosses, Hugo, I Saw the Devil, If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front, In a Better World, In Time, Incendies, Insidious, J. Edgar, Jane Eyre, Kung Fu Panda 2, Last Night, Le Quattro Volte, Love Crime, Margin Call, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Meek’s Cutoff, Melancholia, Midnight in Paris, Mildred Pierce, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, Moneyball, My Week with Marilyn, Of Gods and Men, Outrage, Page One: Inside the New York Times, Passion Play, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, Poetry, Project Nim, Rampart, Rango, Red Riding Hood, Red State, Redline, Retreat, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Rubber, Scream 4, Senna, Shame, Sleeping Beauty, Source Code, Submarine, Sucker Punch, Super, Super 8, Tabloid, Take Shelter, Terri, The Adventures of Tintin, The Arbor, The Artist, The Debt,The Descendants, The Devil’s Double, The Double Hour, The Future, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Green Hornet, The Help, The Housemaid, The Ides of March, The Last Circus, The Lincoln Lawyer, The Mill and the Cross, The Muppets, The Rite, The Roommate, A Separation, The Skin I Live In, The Sleeping Beauty, The Thing, The Tree of Life, The Trip, The Ward, The Woman, Thor, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, TrollHunter, Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, Tyrannosaur, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, Unknown, War Horse, Warrior, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Weekend, Win Win, Winnie the Pooh, X-Men: First Class, Young Adult, Your Highness, Yves Saint-Laurent: L’Amour Fou
Review originally posted on criterioncast.com on March 19th, 2011
Revenge films have been done plenty of times. Park Chan-wook’s Vengeance trilogy and Tarantino’s Kill Bill have reestablished the subgenre as the go-to subject matter for hip hyper-violent cinema. They allow the audience to actively justify their desire for onscreen violence because, well, the bad guys deserve it don’t they? Plus, the morality issues at hand can make for juicy thematic material. I Saw the Devil transcends all of this by taking revenge as far as it can go, thereby making itself automatically relevant. The film excels, managing to overcome its flaws because noted South Korean director Kim Ji-Woon knows how to tell a story with effectiveness and panache, unlike many others who venture down extremist territory.
The plot is purposely simplistic due to a reliance on repetition. The emphasis on immersing the audience in the utter brutality of Kyung-chul, (Choi Min-sik) and the incessant and questionable determination of Soo-hyun (Lee Byung-hun) is essential. Kyung-chul takes pleasure is assaulting and murdering women. The film starts out with his capture and murder of a young woman named Joo-yeon (Oh San-ha). Her fiancée Soo-hyun, a secret agent of some kind, immediately sets out to find the killer. When he finally confronts Kyung-chul, in what would function as the climax of a typical film of its kind, Soo-hyun beats his fiancée’s killer severely, but does not kill him; he lets him go. The rest of the film depicts a repetitious game of cat-and-mouse so Soo-hyun can carry out his revenge again and again and in increasingly merciless ways.
I Saw the Devil takes the revenge film as far as it can possibly go. It forces the audience to not only experience events from Kyung-chul’s perverse perspective, but it throws itself head-on into the pit of torture, pain and violence that the two men engage in. All that exists for Kyung-chul during the film is an unhinged sadistic desire and all that exists for Soo-hyun is a need for revenge that is impossible to deter.
Its examination of what revenge does to a person might not be an outstandingly complex one, but it does its job well and pulls no punches. The idea that one must become a monster to destroy a monster is familiar. The really wonderful study that takes place in the film are Soo-hyun’s craving to prolong the satisfying feeling revenge gives him, and the idea of revenge as a functioning stopgap between the actual mourning process. One of Kim Ji-woon’s strengths is his execution of specific moments that elevate the material. There are two moments where his study on revenge is fully realized. One is when you can actually see in Soo-hyun’s face that the feeling he has choking Kyung-chul is something he does not want to end. The second moment comes at the very end and is very affecting and adds a lot to our understanding of Soo-hyun. This is something Kim does with similarly excellent results in A Bittersweet Life, also starring Lee-Byung-hun.
Kim Ji-Woon is a filmmaker who knows how and when to use style. He chooses his moments carefully and infuses them with a trendy sensibility without allowing style to overwhelm his film. His always impeccably choreographed fight scenes are on display, riveting as ever. A confrontation in a greenhouse as well as a rather incredible scene that takes place in a taxi cab are two scenes where Kim’s penchant for building up tension and delivering action heavy scenes are on display. The pacing in I Saw the Devil is among the most accomplished in recent memory. Clocking in at almost two and a half hours, the film flies by, yet it never feels rushed. Kim takes his time letting the story unfold and allowing atmosphere and mood to sink in, without the running time ever imposing itself. It is fully engrossing throughout which is not an easy feat.
There are still weaknesses that cannot be ignored. The first is that Kim’s characterizations can be a bit too simplistic. It may be thematically understandable for the film to have a one track mind given the very succinct motives of the characters but Soo-hyun and Kyung-chul could have had more depth without losing the ferocity of their motives. This can be attributed to screenwriter Park Hoon-jung (this is Kim’s first film as director only), but characterization has never been Kim’s strong point. There are certainly moments that add quite a lot to our understanding of the two, but it is hard not to wish there had been a bit more.
This film is meant to be extreme and you will not see any arguments from me on the level of violence on display in relation to Kim’s vision. At a certain point though, seeing sexual assault after sexual assault on women adds nothing to the proceedings. This kind of violence is always a tricky subject and it is always going to be somewhat problematic. Aligning us with Kyung-chul and showing us his encounters with women is important to the story. The film is meant to be extremely disturbing but after a couple of these scenes, the audience full well understands the kind of person Kyung-chul is. Certain scenes could have been cut or shortened without losing any kind of its extremist point-of-view. It gets to a point where every time a woman walks onscreen, one can assume there will be an assault, and it becomes disconcerting and obnoxious.
It is impossible to give a blanket recommendation to I Saw the Devil because it is not for everyone’s tastes. Its problems cannot be ignored, and yet I cannot shake it. There is so much to admire here in the ferocity of its vision and execution. The performances are thoroughly strong but it is Choi Min-sik who is nothing less than captivating, giving one of the most memorable portrayals of a serial killer. Whether one thinks it is trussed up trash or a meaningful study on the nature of revenge, it makes no apology for what it is. Unlike many an empty-headed slasher film, I Saw the Devil shows that something meaningful can be said when it uses violence and its impeccable orchestration makes this a must-see for anyone up to the challenge.
Im Sang-soo’s remake of the essential 1960 Korean classic The Housemaid is one of the more highly anticipated films to come from South Korea in recent years. For many decades, Korean cinema had been weighed down with the trauma of division, the government’s control of the film industry and the extreme censorship laws, virtually invalidating film as a mode of free expression. That Kim Ki-young’s The Housemaid made it through was a stroke of luck due to a transitional change of regime. This very simplified context should make it clear why hype surrounded how the New Korean Cinema was going to interpret a rare and iconic example of pre-1990’s Korean film. The “remake” can barely be called that; it is more of a re-imagining. The decision to start from scratch and only use the basic premise (family hires a housemaid; disaster ensues) is inspired. Unfortunately Im Sang-soo’s take on the story is only intermittently successful and is ultimately undone by its simplistic and monotonous depiction of the elite.
A commentary on the emerging middle class, Kim’s 1960 film was a morality tale with a literal wink in its eye. The basic plot was this: a middle class couple hires a woman to become their housemaid in the midst of fixing up their dream house and raising their two children. The woman turns out to be a disturbed individual who sets out to seduce the husband and destroy their family in any way she can. Im Sang-soo (who also wrote the “remake”), discards all of this. It goes without saying that South Korea has changed since 1960; interpreting the premise to make it relevant to their modern day socioeconomic environment was, in theory, the right way to go with this material.
The new synopsis is as follows: Eun-yi (Secret Sunshine’s Jeon Do-yeon) is hired by a very wealthy family as a housemaid for the very young and very pregnant Hae-Ra (Seo Woo) and her husband Joon (Lee Jung-jae). They already have one child named Nami. Eun-yi is awkward, wide-eyed and overwhelmed by the undertaking her job entails. She is hired by “Miss Cho” (Yoon Yeo-jeong), the other housemaid who has been there for decades. One night Hoon seduces Eun-yi, who hesitantly but willfully submits to his lure. “Miss Cho” discovers the pair’s dalliance and even realizes that Eun-yi is pregnant before anybody else (including Eun-yi!). “Miss Cho” tells Hae-ra’s mother (Park Ji-young), who then plots with Hae-ra to get rid of the housemaid whose pregnancy could potentially cause ruin to their family.
Im Sang-soo, not unknown to controversy with his previous films, decided to take on the elite with his latest. As the writer/director himself has stated, he wanted to address the established upper class that has emerged in South Korea, who are extremely wealthy and yield a considerable amount of power (from the director’s perspective). Eun-yi’s experience with the wealthy represents the circumstances and motivations behind the decisions the elite supposedly make. Everything that Hae-ra, Joon and Hae-ra’s mother do in the film is out of greed, jealousy or an effort to save face. It is certainly meant to be a scathing attack on the deluded morals of the privileged. Unfortunately, Im’s critique is greatly diluted by characters that are one-note caricatures. The Housemaid is filled with characters that fail to be interesting or engaging and whose one-note selfishness comes off makes them seem like the stock villains of a soap opera. Hae-ra repeatedly cries offense from being cheated on with “the woman who washes my underwear”. Joon never gets enough screen time to marinate with the audience and is mostly present in sex scenes. The character of Hae-ra’s mother is the hardest to take seriously. From her wardrobe to the performance, it all comes off as hammy and hard to take seriously. In addition to all of this, Eun-yi is not all that absorbing; we feel and care about her but not as much as we should. Jeon Do-yeon does manage to do a lot with the material and puts in a worthy performance. She makes her a victim who actively makes decisions that seem desirable at the time, but ultimately have tragic consequences. Still, a one-dimensional group of wealthy, villainous characters and a sympathetic but only mildly stimulating protagonist does not amount to much, making it difficult to take any deeper meaning about class from the film.
The Housemaid may fall short of its goals but is still entertaining and sexy to boot. There are several specific reasons that the film is worth seeing. The first is the production design by Han Ah Reum. A 2,300 square-foot set was created for the film, the largest in Korean film history. The effort pays off; the entire house is gorgeous with its sleek design elements and modern grandeur. The cinematography by Lee Hyung-deok ideally compliments the production design with its long shots that incorporate large segments of the space, depicting it as intimidating and shallow, but stunning nonetheless. The most important reason to see The Housemaid is the film’s one multi-dimensional character; “Miss Cho”. “Miss Cho” knows more than any other character in the film. She has an arc that begins with her betrayal of Eun-yi and her loyalty to Hae-ra’s mother. She is resentful but loyal to her employees and has hardened by existing through her service to them. “Miss Cho” changes by the film’s end and seeing her navigate through her changing role in the various situations she encounters is by far the most developed material the film has to offer.
Lastly, The Housemaid is book-ended with scenes that stand out from what takes place in between. The first is the suicide of a random woman in the area where Eun-yi works. It is notable because it foreshadows an event that happens later in the film, it acknowledges the very real suicide problem in South Korea and it starts the film off with a very different tone in relation to what comes after. The scene is shot hand-held and directly contradicts the glossy look of the film once we enter the world of the wealthy. The last scene is also very different in tone and is far and away the best scene in the film. Without giving it away, it captures a moment in such a bizarre way that evokes the very present denial of the people involved, and suggests the ability of one character to see through the transparency of the family’s desperate attempts to pretend that nothing has happened. Cryptic, I know. It is important though to give the scene some context without being spoiler ridden, as it is the highlight of the film.
Im Sang-soo made an inspired choice to reinterpret Kim Ki-young’s The Housemaid for the present day. Starting from scratch allowed him to critique the upper class, and the abuses of power that come with the rich, through the eyes of one unfortunate housemaid. Unfortunately, the attack is flimsy and weakly executed. While it manages to be a fun erotic thriller, most of its characters fail to rise above basic characterization. The subversions and deranged qualities of the original are absent and would have been welcome under new contexts. The Housemaid is worth seeing as it makes for an entertaining and harmless experience but do not expect anything more than a decent film, for you might be disappointed.
Note: This review was originally written May 3rd, 2010
To call Bong Joon-Ho’s The Host just another monster movie is a huge understatement to the accomplishment of this film. First, it is hard not to be taken aback by how thoroughly entertaining it is. Second, it is even harder not to be taken aback by all of the tonal qualities of the film and the wonderfully personal and odd family at the center. There is so much to admire here, making it of the best films of the past decade and a rare treat.
The film concerns, in what is a not so flattering depiction of the United States, a 2000 incident in which a mortician working for the US military dumps large amounts down the drain. The first scene depicts the incident and six years later, the fictional consequences make up the main premise of the film. The family is introduced in the very same scene in which the inciting incident takes place. It’s a wonderfully intricate sequence as we are introduced to Gang-Du, a lazy and largely inept but caring father and worker who is currently employed at his father Hee-Bong’s snack bar. Hyun-Seo arrives to the snack bar from school upset at her father for not being at Parent’s Day and for her uncle, Nam-Il for showing up instead with alcohol on his breath. They go inside to watch Hyun-Seo’s aunt Nam-Joo, who is a medalist archer, on television. This time is used wisely to establish the interactions between this family and how Gang-Du, Hee-Bong and Hyun-Seo function together in their everyday lives.
The main plot concerns what happens after this when the monster eventually snatches Hyun-Seo. The monster’s blood is sprayed on Gang-Du’s face making the authority figures thinking that it represents a deadly contagious virus, forcing the family to go on the run as they search for Hyun-Se who they have discovered, is still alive somewhere in the sewers.
The most unique aspect of The Host is the way that director Bong Joon-Ho plays with tone. It’s not black enough to be a black comedy, not outright funny enough to be a regular comedy and not self-serious enough to be a drama; the director understands that life has no genre and that oddly funny moments can happen at the most inappropriate times. He is also, and this is a fundamental key to the success of this film, aware that people do not radically change in extreme situations. The film works so well because the character themselves are such an interesting group to put in the middle of this crisis. Seeing these characters trying to work their way through this problem is what separates it from the pack. While they adjust to the crisis up to a point, these are not people used to solving problems. In addition to this, the crisis does not obliterate the interfamily conflicts; in fact it heightens those conflicts, except in this film that drama is much of the time oddly funny.
An example of this very special tone that Bong Joon-Ho has concocted can be explained by one scene maybe more than the rest. Shortly after Hyun-Seo is taken, the people who witnessed the incident are taken to a building where they are kept for a period of time. This is where we meet the other two key members of the family as Nam-Il and Nam-Joo join their brother and father to mourn for Hyun-Seo, who they still believe at this point to be dead. Many people are sobbing as there are pictures lined up of all the people the monster has killed with small memorials set up for each of them. Gang-Du walks up to the picture of his daughter and starts sobbing. One by one the family members join Gang-Du as they all let their emotions out. Instead of being a serious scene yet without invalidating what these characters are going through, it becomes oddly amusing. It is then taken a step further as their outbursts start attracting attention; people start taking pictures and authority figures start trying to calm them down. Then in the midst of the chaos and the arguing that has broken out between the families as they still grieve everyone falls down which is shown in an overhead shot. Now we have these characters, who still continue to sob, except they are now all writhing on the ground rolling around everywhere. It’s one of the oddest scenes in recent memory and it also might be my personal favorite in the film. The context of the situation is horribly tragic but the director takes this opportunity to show a scene unlike anything else that exists. By giving us a new take on a situation that is a recurring incident in films, a family grieving for the loss of a loved one, Bong Joon-Ho shows us a new take. He can take situations we have seen before and look at them with a different eye and show us a way of seeing things that we have never considered.
The film looks amazing as well. With an unprecedented budget of 10 million dollars, the production values are top notch and the visual aesthetic of the film is engaging as well as the beautiful string-heavy score by Lee Byung-Woo who also did the equally beautiful score to A Tale of Two Sisters. It manages to function as a monster movie as well as it is easily the only stable genre that can be pinned to this film. The monster’s design and movements are frightening as well and of course there are both new spins and homage to old conventions of the genre as well.
The film’s distinct tone also makes the film unpredictable. There are several things that happen in this that actually are very devastating including something that is unprecedented and surely going against what anyone would expect. It becomes unpredictable whether a scene is going to take a drastically amusing turn or a drastically tragic one. This keeps things interesting on yet another level and nothing quite follows any specific pattern and its structure is so refreshing, making it impossible to see the writer anywhere in this piece.
The Host is a uniformly excellent film. It is funny, tragic, fascinating, exciting and suspenseful. It also boasts an additional quality in that we actually care deeply about these characters, not just as individuals, but as a family unit. It makes for active viewing in more ways than one. Bong Joon-Ho has something and watching him further create contributions to film is going to be an absolute treat.