The Best Films of the 00s: 2005

by Tony Dayoub

Sorry for the delay. I've had a heck of a stomach virus. Today, I continue my series of posts assessing the best films of the decade, spotlighting my favorite films of 2005. Steven Spielberg deserves special recognition for giving us two of the best films of the decade in one year, a cautionary science fiction tale and a historical thriller, both of which address post-9/11 concerns. A reminder: 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 never saw it. At the end of the month, I'll post my ten best for 2009. I will then follow up with my 10 best films of the 2000s.

And now, in alphabetical order, the ten best films of 2005...

2046, director Wong Kar Wai - An entrancing companion to Wong's In the Mood for Love, it follows that film's lead, writer Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung Chiu Wai), through a string of affairs in the wake of his failure to consumate his love for the previous film's Su Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung). It's a wonderful excuse for Wong and Christopher Doyle to photograph some of the most fascinating Asian actresses out there: Li Gong, Faye Wong, and Ziyi Zhang. And it's likely the only time you'll see a fusion of science fiction, period drama, and romantic thriller in any film, much less a Hong Kong art film.

The 40-Year-Old Virgin, dir. Judd Apatow - Sweet, silly, filthy, and uncannily on target, Apatow's film directing debut is also one funny movie. Steve Carell (The Office) plays the anti-Michael Scott, a sexually naive, but not entirely ignorant, stereo store clerk. His charming performance as an amiable dork helps ameliorate Apatow's occasional inclination toward (over-) extended dialogue riffs that are just this side of offensive.

The Constant Gardener, dir. Fernando Meirelles - Ralph Fiennes' diplomat, Justin Quayle, may be the onstensible hero in this exposé on pharmaceutical misdeeds in Kenya, adapted from John le Carré's 2001 novel. But the true heart and soul of this film resides in Rachel Weisz's portrayal of Quayle's spirited activist wife, Tessa. Her murder is the film's inciting incident, but Weisz's engaging performance— captured in impressionistic flashbacks woven into the chronologically fractured narrative—hangs like a spectre over the rest of the corporate espionage thriller.

Grizzly Man, dir. Werner Herzog - The German director fashioned much of this haunting documentary from found footage of Timothy Treadwell, an idealistic environmentalist who died as he lived, among dangerous grizzly bears in Alaska. At the outset of the film, Treadwell doesn't seem any stranger than your average animal documentary host (it takes a certain kind of person to fill that position). But as the movie progresses his quirks—and anecdotal evidence from those who knew him—pile up to form an image of a man not unlike the misguided, obsessive protagonists of Herzog's fictional narratives.

A History of Violence, dir. David Cronenberg - One of the best arguments for using graphic novels as source material, Violence is easily Cronenberg's best and most accessible film in a decade full of such films from the usually cold and cerebral director. Cronenberg (The Fly) examines the effects of violence on a small-town family after Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) defends his coffee shop from a hold-up. The director implies that violence begets more violence, and explores the idea that perhaps it is hereditary; Stall's son (Ashton Holmes), often picked on by bullies, begins to display a knack for ending fights as well; and Stall's brother (William Hurt in an Oscar-nominated role as a Philly gangland boss) has a propensity for violence as well. What it boils down to is not whether violence is genetically ingrained, but if a person has the will to overcome those tendencies.

Munich, Dir. Steven Spielberg - Spielberg's second film of the year (see War of the Worlds below) finds him still working out some of his feelings post-9/11. His cultural background comes into play here, as the story explores the price paid by an Israeli Mossad agent (Eric Bana) when he becomes all too aware of the complicated feelings and repercussions that arise when he seeks retribution for the murder of 11 Israeli athletes in 1972's Munich Olympics by Palestinian terrorists. Look for Daniel Craig in a supporting role, first showing some of the leading man potential used to great effect in Casino Royale just one year later.

The New World, dir. Terrence Malick - Malick averages one film every decade. But if they all achieve the glorious transcendence which this film does, it's fine with me. Here, he fuses the fact and mythology behind the legend of Pocahontas (exquisitely portrayed by the young Q'orianka Kilcher) and John Smith (Colin Farrell), continuing his exploration of man's tendency towards violence and its effect on nature. The two lovers overcome cultural differences to create a harmonious oasis of peace in an unforgiving world. Malick overcomes the limitations of language both aural and visual to convey the beauty of paradise lost.

Sin City, dirs. Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez - Forget The Wrestler (well not really, it's quite good). Marv, the beat-up but never broken bruiser at the center of Sin City's best segment, is the role that heralded Mickey Rourke's comeback. Even under a thick layer of prosthetics, nifty effects, and a mannered performance dictated by the neo-noir stylings of Frank Miller's graphic novels, Rourke's gravel-inflected voice and brawler's physique help convey the sweet soul of this pitiable but heroic loser. His performance helps close the circle begun by the noir films that inspired Miller's comics in the first place.

Syriana, dir. Stephen Gaghan - Gaghan's film is as much a primer on the forces driving U.S. dealings in the Middle East as the film he won the Oscar for writing, Traffic, is a primer on the drug trade. The great ensemble cast includes Matt Damon, Jeffrey Wright, Chris Cooper, William Hurt, and Christopher Plummer. But the two standouts are Alexander Siddig (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) as the wise young Prince Nasir, and George Clooney in his best performance as CIA agent Bob Barnes, a stand-in for the former agent whose exploits provided the source material for the film, Robert Baer.

War of the Worlds, dir. Steven Spielberg - The first of Spielberg's 2005 diptych addressing the post-9/11 temperature (see Munich above) sees the director creating sympathy for a (usually) absent father (Tom Cruise) forced by circumstances to own up to his responsibilities. This is quite a turnaround for the older, wiser director whose usual focus on broken families rarely sides with the father while typically idealizing him (Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Ford in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). Here, Cruise is presented warts and all, usually bumbling into a heroic save.

For more of this ongoing series, click here.

Movie Review: The Spirit - Campy Comic Book Film a Misfire Post-Dark Knight

I was kind of tickled by Frank Miller's The Spirit. Not the instant classic that I've deemed the 2-dimensional Sin City (2005) to be, what could have been a fun campy tribute to the pulpy comics of yore ala Beatty's Dick Tracy (1990), Losey's Modesty Blaise (1966), or Vadim's Barbarella (1968), turns out to be a colossal misfire of the first order in late 2008, post-Dark Knight. How dare this movie be produced after the comic book hero genre got serious? Of course, if you can manage to not be so fanboy about it, it's really a magnificent piece of eye candy. And Miller has fun expanding on the traditional comic book tropes of duality between hero and villain, identity, etc. The Spirit (Gabriel Macht) and the Octopus (Samuel Jackson) are both ciphers on the page, infused only by whatever personality the actors, their costumes and their surroundings bring to them. The Spirit is the remnant of deceased officer Denny Colt. His various girlfriends are all facets of an idealized woman, and depending on which one he's with, one wonders if Colt has allowed his heroic identity to take over to release him from any ties he once might have had to a fiance played by Sarah Paulson. In the original comic book, the Octopus was never seen outside of a gloved hand at the corner of a page frame. So imagine the fun for Jackson and Miller to craft the character by allowing him to dress in every outfit from Samurai to Nazi officer. But I can't help feeling uncomfortable at the Aryan-ness of the whole enterprise. In addition to the Octopus, every person of color is on the wrong side of the law, including Italian Louis Lombardi as the clones, Spanish Paz Vega as Plaster of Paris, and the Cuban-American Eva Mendes as Sand Saref. And the rest of the denizens of Central City are all lily-white. Even more discomfort do I later feel in light of this little tidbit I discovered.

Sin City and Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Neglected Value of Artifice in Cinema

There is an interesting debate brewing in my mind after a visit to two little corners of the blogosphere. Should a movie's substantive value be deemed nonexistent simply because style takes precedence in that particular film? Or does the artifice sometimes disguise the substance beneath the style, and perhaps entertainment value also? Admittedly, this is not a new debate. Formalists and realists have been arguing this for a while in some form or another. The germ of this began at Jeremy Richey's Moon in the Gutter where people are arguing about the value of the film Sin City (2005) under a post he entitled Images From The Greatest Films of the Decade: Sin City (A Film Directed by Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller) . After I complimented Jeremy on his selection of Sin City as one of the films he honored with his beautiful frame captures, Samuel Wilson commented:

I respectfully disagree. The exact faithfulness of Rodriguez' [sic] adaptation is the movie's great flaw. Comic book dialogue works according to a different narrative logic from movie dialogue. Transcribing Miller's dialogue directly on film ended up sounding stilted to me. I admit also that I liked the Sin City comics initially, but grew tired of Miller's obsessions by the end of the third series -- which does leave possibly the best story, "A Dame to Kill For," to be adapted in a second movie. I can admire the movie visually (those are nice captures) and I suppose it can be appreciated as a formal experiment...

This elicited a comment from J.D.:

Well, the stilted sounding dialogue seemed, to me at least, to be kinda the point, drawing attention to the artificiality of the whole thing - this is, after all, a hyper-stylized world right out of a Mickey Spillane novel. I think that some actors did a better job with the dialogue than others. Clive Owen and Mickey Rourke, for example, fared very well, while Michael Madsen, not so much, but I think that it is more to do with the strengths and limitations of various actors in the cast.

Put me squarely in J.D.'s camp, seeing as how I agree that Sin City is an ambitious attempt to pay simultaneous homage to both the film noir genre and the graphic novel medium. Some of the noir elements are diluted by the time the story reaches the screen, in part because this is a filmed adaptation of a medium that was already adapting a film genre. Post-modernism at its best, no? And J.D. makes a good point. However I feel about the film, he is correct in saying that some actors, Jessica Alba and Michael Madsen in particular, did not serve the material well under the constraints of the screenplay. But does the artifice of the film undermine its value? Film is an inherently artificial medium, and isn't anything put before the lens already influenced unnaturally by the very presence of the camera? So you can see why the argument that a film lacks substance or reality, holds little water with me.



It was with that frame of mind that I must have carried some of this debate over to another site I frequent, Ed Howard's Only the Cinema, where we discussed a better example. When Ed posted his 50 Best films of the 1980s, I was taken aback by the absence of a few films, but when I brought some of them up, amongst them, Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and Blade Runner (1982), Ed responded:

Tony, some of those I do like but don't consider list material (like Raiders, which is fun but hardly any great masterpiece)... and others I respect but don't have much personal love for them, like Blade Runner... an effects showcase...

Blade Runner has always been and continues to be a flawed film, no doubt. But it did move the cinematic medium forward visually, and has proven to be highly influential. Besides that, it clearly falls into the larger context of film history as a new iteration of film noir (see an earlier post on Blade Runner) much like Sin City does. So it is working on more levels than an ordinary film. And, in my mind, Raiders is a tougher case to argue. As I said in response to Ed at his site:

Sure, it is a Hollywood blockbuster, but it is hardly a trifle in film history. It is a significant homage to an often neglected genre, the Saturday morning serial. It is near flawless in its execution as an action-adventure film. As a suspense thriller, though it may be forgotten after repeated viewings, it rivals the work of Hitchcock (especially in the how-did-he-film-that department). And it doesn't fall prey to the trite dialogue, or wooden characterizations routinely found even in the original Star Wars trilogy.

Ed's response:

Tony, Raiders is undoubtedly a great action-adventure flick. To me, though, the Hitchcock comparison is more revelatory for the differences than the similarities. Hitch was a sublime craftsman with an unrivaled technical mastery, but this formal acumen was rarely used only in service to the suspense or the action. There is invariably something deeper, something of substance, going on in Hitch's best films, whether it's the depth of the characterization, the thematic and psychological subtexts, or, as in Psycho and North By Northwest, a certain playfulness with the formal conventions of genres. As good as Hitchcock was at entertaining, I think he was always conscious of making his films interesting beneath the surface as well. Raiders is all surface. I enjoy it, and I'm certainly not judging it negatively for its popularity, but there's just nothing there beyond a fun adventure. To the extent that the Indiana Jones films have any substance at all, it's in the form of a regressive Orientalism that shows through much more clearly in Temple of Doom but is present in the first film as well.

Let's remember that before Cahiers du Cinema first crowned Hitchcock as an auteur he was often dismissed as a genre director in much the same way that Spielberg has been. Thematically, Spielberg has matured in a way that make his particular concerns much more evident in his recent films, concerns such as his fascination with World War II and Nazi Germany. This theme is treated in a much more adolescent way in his earlier films, 1941 (1979) and Raiders in particular, which were fed by his childhood "education" through movies. His exploration of the effect of the war, and more specifically the Nazis, on his father's generation matures during the course of his career so that by the time he directs Schindler's List (1993) and Saving Private Ryan (1998), he cannot trivialize Nazi Germany nor America's involvement in the war as he does in his earlier films. Seeing as he could not simply get from there to here without an evolution in his art, there is then a value to Raiders of the Lost Ark that deepens once its place in the broader context of Spielberg's filmography is examined, if only to serve as a contrast to his later films. The fact that the film seems to be "all surface", as Ed puts it, is not necessarily so because of the foundation it initially establishes in his progressively conscious thoughts on WWII. So I'd like to hear from my readers on this. Are entertaining films to be dismissed as lacking any substantive value, or might a viewer glean something deeper from them the same way one can in "pop art"? Tell me about some of the movies that you were surprised to find went deeper than you once might have thought. Or tell me why such movies should correctly be viewed as simplistic or superficial.

Movie Review: The Wrestler - An Ode to Mickey Rourke

Mickey Rourke triumphantly returns to the screen in the best role he's played since... Marv in Sin City (2005)? Well, that wasn't so long ago. Yet it seems that every time Rourke continues to impress us with a tour-de-force performance, as he does in Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler, he is hailed as the "Comeback Kid," when in fact, he's never gone anywhere. One look at his filmography confirms this, as he has had at least one film, if not more, released every year since his debut in 1979, except for the years 1993 and 2007. True, they frequently aren't movies you would see in the year-end top ten lists. But like Marlon Brando, the quirky and mumbling Rourke is a performer that never fails to fascinate in any number of variations on the tough guy persona he usually imbues with the soul of a child. In The Wrestler, he plays fading superstar Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a veteran of the sport that though filled with showboat antics, may actually be more punishing than similar gladiatorial displays out there. Robinson moves through his humble life, struggling to collect his cut of the gate; having trouble making ends meet; and deluding himself into thinking he is actually connecting with a stripper, Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), which he frequents. Oblivious to the destructive toll the matches take on his aging body, it is only after a particularly brutal rematch with the Ayatollah (Ernest Miller) that he gets a warning sign. Suffering a major heart attack, he is forced to retire, and it is then that we see what few prospects Robinson has. He lives alone in a trailer park. He has no family save for his now grown daughter, Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), who won't talk to him. Is it only a matter of time before he has to risk returning to the ring? Aronofsky's skill as a storyteller continues to grow. Gone is the film-school vibe of his first film, π (1998). The visual gimmickry of his overrated Requiem for a Dream (2000) is harnessed to better use here, as in one scene where he crosscuts between Robinson as he prepares for a match, and Cassidy psyching herself up for her next dance. Both self-destructively chase down the money no matter what the physical or psychological cost to each. The Wrestler expands on the promise the director displayed in the misunderstood The Fountain (2006). Like in that film, Robinson risks all to sustain the connection to someone he loves, despite the inevitability of his self-destruction in doing so. But here the emotional core is not lost in the sci-fi pyrotechnics of the earlier film. The Wrestler is a variation on the film noir subgenre, the fight movie, which only serves to underscore the parallels between Robinson and Rourke. A rising star in the eighties, Rourke's bad decisions, like interrupting his career to venture into the world of boxing, interrupted his ascent. Noxious behavior in his personal life, which included arrests for spousal abuse, and a DUI further illustrate his penchant for masochism. His newfound vigor in returning to acting is evident in his portrayal of Robinson's climactic attempt to recapture the glory he once garnered in the ring. Rourke's iconic performance is both powerful and touching. Like Brando, who was always ill at ease with his handsome looks, Rourke has shown signs of the same. The onetime pretty boy now has a face scarred by reconstructive surgeries after the beatings inflicted in boxing. And Robinson's bloodied visage evokes previous roles in which Rourke has taken safe harbor, away from his looks, like Marv in Sin City, or John Sedley in Johnny Handsome (1989). These ugly bruisers both hid a secret child-like soul, the same way Robinson does. In one scene, Robinson's loneliness prompts him to step outside his trailer home, and invite a neighbor kid to play a wrestling game on an outdated Nintendo. When the child loses and politely decides to leave, Robinson is embarrassed that not even a rematch can entice the boy to stay. The Wrestler should go down as one of this actor's landmark roles, but don't call it a comeback. He's always been around, even if we haven't always been looking. Darren Aronofsky will discuss The Wrestler at 1:30 p.m., Saturday, October 11th, at the Stanley H. Kaplan Penthouse, located on the tenth floor of the Samuel B. and David Rose Building, 70 Lincoln Center Plaza, New York, New York, 10023; $16 The Wrestler is the Closing Night film at the 46th New York Film Festival, and is playing at 8:30 p.m. Sunday, October 12th, at the Avery Fisher Hall, 70 Lincoln Center Plaza, New York, New York, 10023; $40 This entry first appeared on Blogcritics on 10/9/2008. Photo Credit: Fox Searchlight / Wild Bunch / Film Society of Lincoln Center

NYFF Day 6 - Notes on The Wrestler and Waltz with Bashir

Yeah, that's Mickey Rourke up top, looking every inch the battered and beaten has-been many had written him off as. Except his fantastic performance in Darren Aronofsky' s The Wrestler, which I caught today should change all that. There is a survivor's spirit within Rourke that Aronofsky taps into which is perfectly in line with other such performances he's given in his career, whether before the abuse he received during his sojourn into boxing - as in Johnny Handsome (1989) - or after - as in Sin City (2005). Don't have time to get much deeper than this, but consider it a preview to my full post on the film, and perhaps a separate post regarding some really interesting comments he made after the screening. I'll have those up next week, when The Wrestler closes the festival. Playing tonight and tomorrow is Ari Folman's Waltz with Bashir, an imaginative and unique take on the documentary. It has real-life interviews dramatically presented in an animated format that recreates the subjective experience of the 1982 war in Lebanon as seen by Folman, and other fellow soldiers. I didn't have the time for a complete review today. One is definitely forthcoming. This film is very important in many ways and should definitely be experienced on the big screen. Below is a schedule of the events for today and tomorrow. More information can be found at the festival's web site. EVENT TITLES NYFF – Festival main slate film OSH – NYFF Sidebar: In the Realm of Oshima SCREENING LOCATIONS ZT – Ziegfeld Theatre, 54th St. between 6th and 7th Avenues WRT – Walter Reade Theater, 65th St. between Amsterdam and Broadway, upper level Wednesday, Oct. 1 6:00 A Summer Hours, with Ralph (NYFF/ZT) 6:30 FREE PANEL: The Place of Oshima (OSH/WRT) 9:00 Shiro of Amakusa, The Christian Rebel (OSH/WRT) 9:15 Waltz with Bashir, with I Don’t Feel Like Dancing (NYFF/ZT) Thursday, Oct. 2 4:30 Shiro of Amakusa, The Christian Rebel (OSH/WRT) 6:00 Waltz with Bashir, with I Don’t Feel Like Dancing (NYFF/ZT) 6:30 Pleasures of the Flesh (OSH/WRT) 8:40 Band of Ninja (OSH/WRT) 9:00 Summer Hours, with Ralph (NYFF/ZT) Waltz with Bashir is playing at the 46th New York Film Festival, at 9:15 p.m. tonight, and 6:00 p.m. tomorrow, at the Ziegfeld Theatre, 141 West 54th Street, New York, NY 10019, (212) 307-1862 The Wrestler Photo Credit: Fox Searchlight / Wild Bunch / Film Society of Lincoln Center Waltz with Bashir Photo Credit: Ari Folman and David Polonsky, © 2008, Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics / Film Society of Lincoln Center

Movie Trailer: The Spirit

by Tony Dayoub


Click on the picture above for the trailer to the latest comics-to-film adaptation, this one based on Will Eisner's classic landmark hero, and directed by comics great Frank Miller (Sin City, 300).

It's so hot right now, the best I could do was link to this YouTube capture, but I'll update it when I can get a direct link to the official one.

Let me know what you think in the comments section.

UPDATED: The picture now links directly to the trailer on the official website. Enjoy.