The Best Films of the 00s: 2008

by Tony Dayoub

This is a somewhat reworked repost of my 2008 end-of-year wrap-up, originally published on 1/23/09. The main difference is my inclusion of Üç Maymun (Three Monkeys) on the list instead of as an honorable mention. It replaces a television show (In Treatment) I included on the original list; not because I regret the original decision to include it, but because this series is really dedicated to discussing the decade's cinematic offerings.

I started blogging in 2008 so you should see a marked difference in my selection of films. This isn't by design, necessarily. 2008 just afforded me the opportunity to watch more movies through press screenings, screeners, and invitations to film festivals, now giving me additional access I wouldn't normally get in Atlanta. Some reminders: I cannot judge movies I haven't seen, so if you feel a film you like was unjustly left out, it might be that I haven't seen it; also, if I already wrote a review for it, I'll include a link back to the original review.

And now, in alphabetical order, the best films of 2008...

DVD Review: A Christmas Tale (2008)

by Tony Dayoub



When I reviewed Un conte de Noël (A Christmas Tale) almost one year ago, I ended my post with this observation:

A memorable image comes midway in Un conte de Noël when [a central character] opens a present from a neighbor, a gold necklace with a heart-shaped charm. As she admires it, there is a cut to the charm spinning in the center of the film frame as the surrounding space dissolves into a snowy exterior of the family home. This central image somehow captures the ineffable feelings that arise when viewing this exquisite film, of a family that may not actually like each other much, but manage to hold deep love for each other nonetheless.

This ethereal image of the twirling bauble still lingers. It is the essential image of the film, distilling the warmth and fragility of the almost archetypal family story of the Vuillards.



But director Arnaud Desplechin elevates the familiar genre of the Christmas family reunion beyond its cliche saccharine elements, complicating the tale by introducing long-held resentments, rivalries, and recriminations between the siblings and their parents. The two characters who are often at the crux of most of these complications are the cancer-stricken Junon (Catherine Deneuve) and her least favorite son, Henri (Mathieu Amalric). So it is with no small tragicomic irony that it is only Henri's bone marrow that is deemed compatible with Junon's need. And it is a credit to Desplechin's profundity in fashioning this small fable that these two characters who dislike each other so immensely still love each other greatly, and in fact, identify with each other to the exclusion of the rest of their family. Thus does the gyrating trinket in the image come to literally depict the otherwise unknowable heart of gold buried deep within the spiteful characters.



It is because of Desplechin's ease at pictorially depicting such lush, passionate emotions in counterpoint to the quiet expressions of love and regret at the center of the family's interactions that this film made my top ten list for last year's films (and is seriously vying for top ten of the decade).



Criterion has wisely timed this week's release of the film on DVD and Blu-ray to the holiday season, when the movie's magic can most effectively touch the viewer. And what an astounding trio of supplements it includes: an essay by esteemed critic Phillip Lopate; a 35-minute documentary featuring interviews with Amalric, Deneuve, and Desplechin—all eloquently expressing their fascination with each other and the film (in English, surprisingly); and L'aimée, Desplechin's 2007 documentary about his paternal grandmother, her death when his father was only two, and how it impacted the development of his family. It is this last one hour doc that proves to be most insightful, illustrating how Desplechin's interactions with his own family in Roubaix, France may have served as the inspiration for A Christmas Tale—also set in Roubaix—released one year later.

Movie Review: Un conte de Noël (A Christmas Tale) - An Exquisite Depiction of Family Dysfunction

Un conte de Noël (A Christmas Tale), the French language film by Arnaud Desplechin, is one of the most elegantly beautiful films I've seen in a long time. A portrait of the extremely dysfunctional Vuillard clan, a family at a crossroads of sorts, the movie is bolstered by the performances of Catherine Deneuve, her daughter Chiara Mastroianni, and the fascinating Mathieu Amalric. Everything, from the music to the imagery to the performances, contribute to a sense of warmth and reality so rarely found in this usually American genre, the family reunion film, that the movie is simply one of the most satisfying cinematic experiences I've had in the last couple of years. The Vuillards are a family that revel in their animosity towards each other, turning it into a gamesmanship of sorts between them. Eldest daughter Elizabeth (Anne Consigny) is trying to extricate herself from the relentless negativity, but in doing so she takes the game to a new level. After dealing with the habitual irresponsibility of middle brother Henri (Amalric), she bails him out of a business deal that went bad, with the condition that he is never to be present, or even talked about, in front of her for as long as they live. This extreme measure may be a way of coping with her son Paul (Emile Berling) and his schizophrenic breakdown. Add the stress of the discovery by Junon (Deneuve), the family matriarch, that she suffers from a rare form of cancer and needs a bone marrow transfusion. The upcoming family reunion this Christmas is one that most of them are not looking forward to. Desplechin adopts a variety of techniques to communicate a great amount of backstory in what seems like a breezy 2 and 1/2 hours. At the outset of the film he uses shadow puppets to describe how the childhood death of brother Joseph may have been the inciting incident in the family's complex history of mutual loathing. This short prologue casts a mythic quality on what is a essentially a family of traditional archetypes, a fact Henri makes note of early in the film when he says (and I paraphrase) that if his life is a myth he does not know what part he is supposed to play. The director also often has his characters break the fourth wall, and discuss their inner thoughts, or read personal letters directly to the camera. Another curious device, that may not be as successful, is one in which the viewer enters a scene being shot as if through a peephole, with the lens aperture slowly opening onto the scene proper, a form of eavesdropping that literally reminds us that though we are privy to the Vuillards' secrets, this is just cinema. All of the technical aspects of the film seem to be on point. Grégoire Hetzel's music is lush and comforting, enveloping us in the familial warmth that this family deceptively seems to lack. The imagery also plays counterpoint to the events of the film. Eric Gautier's golden-toned cinematography, and the use of what looks like actual childhood photos of the actors, create a nostalgic sense of history and the indomitable spirit that this family has developed in dealing with their fair share of tragedies. The performances are uniformly excellent. Deneuve gives what could easily be her valedictory performance in film, despite still being too young to leave the screen. It is because she imbues Junon with an unspoken regret for the way she's alienated herself from her family. Still, Junon would rather let the cancer take her than deal with the family issues head-on. Mastroianni is charming as Sylvia, wife of Ivan (Melvil Poupaud), the youngest brother. A mother of two, the fading beauty wonders what course her life would have taken had she chosen to marry cousin Simon (Laurent Capelluto), a painter, instead. Amalric's ugly Henri is a man at odds with himself, both seeking to reconnect with his loved ones, while constantly stirring things up when their dust-ups have settled. For instance, he turns out to be one of only two family members (the other is a youngster) whose bone marrow is compatible with Junon. He is happy to oblige, but still can't bring himself to call his mother by anything but her first name. The detestable little Henri is a physical embodiment of the family and their animus. A memorable image comes midway in Un conte de Noël when Elizabeth opens a present from a neighbor, a gold necklace with a heart-shaped charm. As she admires it, there is a cut to the charm spinning in the center of the film frame as the surrounding space dissolves into a snowy exterior of the family home. This central image somehow captures the ineffable feelings that arise when viewing this exquisite film, of a family that may not actually like each other much, but manage to hold deep love for each other nonetheless.