The Best Films of the 00s

by Tony Dayoub

Oscar night has arrived. And with the Oscar recipients this year being all but a foregone conclusion, I post an alternative to the conversation happening throughout the rest of the film blogosphere.

Here are the best films of the 00s...

The Best Films of the 00s: 2007

by Tony Dayoub

2007 gave us one of the best years in American film in quite some time. Perhaps it is because so many of these films recall the second golden age in American cinema, the Seventies. Homages to Altman, Friedkin, Kubrick, Malick, Pakula, and Peckinpah are represented on the list. One master who had his most fruitful period in that decade even has a film that shows up on the list. 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.

Now, in alphabetical order, the ten best films of 2007...

Seventies Cinema Revival: McCabe & Mrs. Miller

by Tony Dayoub

Perhaps it was the disillusionment with Vietnam, or the revolutionary assault of American society by it's younger generation that led to the marked change in film from the sixties into the seventies. One thing is certain, westerns had up until then been the dominant genre in American film. And as the realities of the civil rights movement, anti-war movement, and feminism started encroaching on our lives, movie audiences started turning their back on these, and other "fantasies" that existed in American film.

Musicals were dying at the box office... just look at Doctor Dolittle (1967) as Mark Harris discusses in his excellent book, Pictures at a Revolution. War movies were becoming less Dmytryk's Back to Bataan (1945), and more Boorman's Hell in the Pacific (1968). Even John Ford was redefining his own depiction of Native Americans with the extremely sympathetic take in Cheyenne Autumn (1964), his last western. With Sergio Leone and Sam Peckinpah now becoming the torchbearers of the genre, cowboys were taking on a distinctly antiheroic role. The time had come for an outsider, like Robert Altman, to subvert the western, which he did in McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971).

Altman was by no means a young novice when he hit it big with M*A*S*H (1970). Already well into his forties, he had made a few less than notable movies like Countdown (1968). And like Peckinpah, he had been a prolific TV director, having directed some of the popular shows of the day, like Route 66, Combat! and Bonanza. But M*A*S*H was the first indication that he was destined for more than the journeyman directing he had done thus far. Ostensibly about the Korean War, Altman admitted that the reason it was such a hit was because it really spoke of Vietnam at a time when few other films were. And while it had many of his hallmarks, like the overlapping dialogue, ensemble cast, and naturalistic approach to shooting, his unique style arguably didn't solidify until McCabe.


The film opens to the haunting sound of Leonard Cohen singing "The Stranger Song" as a man enters frame left riding a mule in the constant drizzle of an unmistakeably northwestern town called Presbyterian Church. It is a mining town slowly drifting into modernity with the building of a church. The man enters Sheehan's, a bar where he sets up a game of poker, introducing himself as John McCabe (Warren Beatty). When the proprietor, Paddy Sheehan (Rene Auberjonois), asks him if he's "Pudgy" McCabe, the man who shot down Bill Roundtree with a Deringer, McCabe doesn't deny it. He just grins as Altman zooms into his gold-toothed smile.

As the myth of McCabe the gunfighter starts spreading, he starts to promote a new enterprise, a prostitution camp. Attracted to the new endeavor, Mrs. Constance Miller (Julie Christie), an opium-addicted madam, arrives in town. Mrs. Miller is the only one to see through McCabe's phony facade to the hard-drinking, charming con-man hidden beneath. She bids to go into business with McCabe to turn the camp into a luxurious brothel. The establishment of the brothel, and the church, accelerates the town's development, bringing both the God-fearing and the corrupt together to form a community.

Soon, the Harrison Shaugnessy Company, in the form of a man named Sears (Michael Murphy), comes calling on McCabe to buy his business. McCabe's response, "Well, Sears, I'm Roebuck. Who'd you leave minding the goddamn store?" McCabe's folksy humor falls on deaf ears, as does his haggling for a greater bid when Sears shows interest in buying McCabe out. Sears leaves, and his company sends out three hired gunmen, a British giant named Butler (Hugh Millais), a kid, and an Indian half-breed, to kill the brothel owner.

When Sheehan tells Butler how McCabe is really the outlaw "Pudgy" McCabe, Butler says, "That man never killed anyone in is life." But as he trudges through the snow, hunted by the gunmen, McCabe has an ace up his sleeve that brings that denial into question, a Deringer pistol.

Altman spends the first hour of the film setting up the house of cards on which McCabe, and Presbyterian Church, is built on. The legend of McCabe is given a lot of credence in the iconic style used to shoot his entry into town. Vilmos Zsigmond's then innovative soft focus cinematography creates a warm, nostalgic, almost historic mood. The haunting Cohen folk songs, heard throughout, serve the same mystical function as a Greek chorus, commenting on the tale and enhancing its archetypal relevance to traditional myths. The silence McCabe adopts when interrogated about Bill Roundtree plays into our expectations of western outlaws and their stoicism when referring to killing.


But once Sears and his company appear, the film shifts into a second hour where Altman explodes the western myth. The outlaw hero, McCabe, is visibly shaken by the quiet departure of Sears. The sun-dappled greenery of the northwest turns into a bleak snowy landscape. When questioned about a gun he carries, an innocent young cowboy (Keith Carradine) explains how he wears it mostly for show, and doesn't know how to shoot it. Goaded into unholstering the gun by one of the hired guns, he is brutally murdered while atop a bridge, falling into icy water, and demolishing the cliche of the honorable gunfight on a dusty street.

Altman's style is never more evident than in this film. His penchant for naturalism comes to the fore in this film, which was shot chronologically as the town was erected. The early scenes are abundant with overlapping dialogue, designed to confuse one's opinion of McCabe. But as his backstory becomes clear, so does the soundtrack, until almost the only sound heard in the climactic 20 minutes is that of snow falling. The cast consists of several actors that had been or would become part of his repertory, including Auberjonois, Murphy, Carradine, John Schuck, Bert Remsen, and Shelley Duvall. And like in M*A*S*H, he uses the setting to reflect his personal views, here the formation of a society.

Altman acknowledges the unimpressive plot in his commentary for the film's DVD. A stranger comes into town and gets together with the hooker-with-the-heart-of-gold to defend the town from a gunslinging kid, a giant, and a half-breed. But he isn't as interested in the cliche plot as he is in what fuels each character's motivation. He is cognizant that societys evolve much the same way the town does in this film, through the push and pull of conflicting moral extremes, as represented by the church and the brothel. Big business generally comes in once the pioneering has been done by the little man, and may sometimes use unethical means to push him out.

Despite just an average box office gross at the time of its release, McCabe & Mrs. Miller has become a cult favorite. It's influence can still be felt today in films as recent as Michael Winterbottom's The Claim (2000) and Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood (2007).

This entry first appeared on Blogcritics on 9/7/08.

DVD Review: There Will Be Blood - From Altman to Malick: The Naturalist Influence on Anderson's Film

by Tony Dayoub


There Will Be Blood is the best film of 2007. It is a character study focusing on Daniel Plainview, played by Daniel Day-Lewis in a performance that fiercely crystallizes the epic vision of the movie's director. Paul Thomas Anderson has given us some noteworthy films already, like Boogie Nights (1997), and Magnolia (1999). His films' ensemble casts inevitably led to comparisons with Robert Altman (M*A*S*H, Nashville), another director known for working with large casts. And in fact, the reason we haven't seen a film from Anderson since 2003's Punch-Drunk Love is because he was serving as back-up director for Altman's last film A Prairie Home Companion, as Altman's health was already failing. With an eye towards one of Altman's more intimate films, Blood is distinctly influenced by other great directors.

The film opens over a vast desolate landscape, seemingly silent. But Jonny Greenwood's score rises to an almost deafening pitch in a piece inspired by the composer György Ligeti's work. Ligeti is best known for music that appears in Stanley Kubrick's films, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and The Shining. Here we get a sense of what this film will be about, because just as this music is used to evoke a certain alienation of Kubrick's protagonist from the world he finds himself in, Blood's Plainview is also an outsider, a misanthrope. It is his ambition to build an impregnable wall around himself that drives him to seek oil in this wasteland.

As the opening sequence continues, Plainview, in a moment of weakness, takes in a boy orphaned by the death of his father, one of Plainview's oil riggers. He names him H.W., and conspiratorially makes him an accomplice in pursuit of his goal. His relationship is where we see him at his most vulnerable. They are led to Little Boston, a poor community, where they were tipped off by Paul Sunday (Paul Dano) that there is oil to be had. Plainview convinces the community to sell him their land, and in return he'll employ the lot of them in helping him fulfill his vision. These scenes are reminiscent of Altman's McCabe and Mrs. Miller. That film's McCabe (Warren Beatty) mysteriously comes to the old mining community of Presbyterian Church where he has dreams of getting rich opening a brothel to serve the miners. Like McCabe, Plainview must appease the community [in the person of Eli Sunday (Dano again), Paul's twin brother] by promising to build a church.

In Blood, however, the schism between capitalism and religion is given a much more central focus. Plainview's greed may be a sign of his corruption, but he hardly hides it. He despises the hypocrisy he gleans from Eli Sunday's sermons, and is disgusted by Sunday's attempt to use faith to disguise his own ambitions. A disastrous explosion of an oil derrick comes at a crucial turning point in the story. The effect of the pillar of oil-fueled fire, and Anderson's attempt to confine the film's lighting to the natural light of the blaze, recalls Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven. In that film's key turning point, when sharecroppers try to smoke out locusts that biblically descend on a farm, it also catches fire. Malick chose to use the eerie light of the flames to emphasize the supernatural quality of this moment. Anderson's burning oil derrick spotlights Plainview's naked greed as the flames shoot into the night.

As Plainview grows old and achieves his goal of retreat from the human race, he becomes a Howard Hughes-type figure. Hermit-like, he never leaves his mansion, and becomes estranged even from H.W. But curiously, as he descends into this madness, the shots become more formal, and symmetrical. The wide-angle shots in his mansion remind me of Kubrick's depiction of The Shining's Overlook Hotel; vast, isolated, yet allowing us to detachedly observe Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) from a safe distance.

Anderson successfully stirs the pot with this soup he concocted to come up with one of the most unique and satisfying movies in the last ten years. Run don't walk to get the DVD, out today on single and 2-disc standard DVD.

Still provided courtesy of Paramount Home Entertainment.

This entry first appeared on Blogcritics on 4/7/2008.

Musings on the Academy Awards or How I Learned to Stop Worrying about Predictions and Love the Oscars

by Tony Dayoub

First Entry - 3:51pm: I've got my Filet Mignon ready to grill, Champagne chilling in the fridge, and will be checking in from time to time today. I will update the blog on random thoughts regarding the countdown to the Oscars. I'll also strive to keep a tally on how wrong I was on my Oscar predictions from my last entry. So keep checking in, and feel free to respond with your own thoughts.

Second Entry - 9:10pm: First upset of the night would have to be Golden Compass winning Best Special Effects over Transformers. Could it have been a case that Transformers' effects were too good to even be recognized as effects?

Oscar Picks 2008

by Tony Dayoub

The writer's strike is over, probably due in no small part to Gil Cates. Cates, producer of The 80th Academy Awards, was the only man in Hollywood sure that the Oscars would go on this year. Makes you wonder if he had some kind of back-channel access to the parties involved.

Whatever the case was, I am glad he made it possible to enjoy my favorite day of the year. There is a case to be made that it diminishes the art by rewarding those who spend money on Oscar campaigns. However, for a movie-lover like myself, there is no more glamorous or celebratory day for American cinema.

And though I may disagree on who should win the awards, here are my picks on who will win the awards.