We're fortunate, I think, to be in the middle of a revolution these days of film and film production. There's a fight going on (whether you care or are aware of it or not) for not only the kind of movies that are being made today but also the manner in which films are being made, marketed, and released today.
Modern streaming services like Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, et al. have changed the game in determining what movies we want presented to us, how we want to select our movies, and how we want to watch our movies. It is to stay at home these days--in the comfort and ease of our overstuffed chairs and couches, and our overstuffed surroundings, and our overstuffed sweatpants and pajamas, and our overstuffed flat-screen TVs in the corner of the room.
It is comfortable and easy these days to stay home and download a movie, or stream it, or simply "pirate it" (let's be honest). Going to the old-school trouble of actually getting dressed to step outside, and face the elements, and confront the crowds, and do the unthinkable of entering the age-old traditional movie-theater cineplex for something as old-fashioned crazy as "going to the movies" takes some revolutionary courage, itself, today. The playing field has evolved, and it is perhaps not what we knew when we were growing up.
All in an attempt to rebuff this growing competition, a pleasant outgrowth of this battle is the fact that it's never been more comfortable to go to the movie-theaters and to watch a movie. In many places, ticket prices have lowered to somewhat reasonable levels.
[Aside: It would be nice, now, if the movie-theaters' concessions stands would follow suit. I'm sort of tired of being gobsmacked by laying down a crisp $20 bill on the counter for a small Coke and a small popcorn and not receiving any change back. But I digress....]
Nowadays, a moviegoer is expected (and almost required) to visit the theater's online site first, buy tickets there, and reserve seats. Which means, of course, no more unnecessary standing in unnecessary lines. No more worrying about getting a good seat. No more worrying period, for that matter. It's easy. It's simple. It's guaranteed, every time.
And speaking of seats: Movie-theaters have gone the extra mile in completely restructuring and redesigning the whole idea of movie-theater seating. Nowadays, most up-to-date cineplexes come complete with oversized, soft-leather reclining seats, warming coils, blankets, and swivel trays for food and drink. And young theater-staff serve as waiters and waitresses now, bringing your concessions orders directly from the lobby to you, as you sit comfortably in the dark in your seat.
[Aside: But unfortunately you're still not getting back any change for your snacks.]
It is, admittedly, an elegant improvement. And if it's keeping movie-theaters alive in 2019--getting people to leave the comfort of home and the convenience of their Netflix subscription to face the weather, and the traffic, and the crowds, and the reality of traditional movie-viewing at these new, modernized movie-houses--then so be it. There is still (even in this jaded, uber-downloadable age of the late 2010s) something to be said, after all, for going to the movie-theater to see a movie. The smell of the popcorn that hits you at the front door, making your mouth water. The richness and the fullness of the sound system. The clarity and the crispness of the digital projection. The vastness of the big screen.
Going to the movies is still an event, just as it's always been. But now--with so many other streaming challengers vying for our time and attention (and, let's face it, the simplicity of just staying at home in our sweatpants and our pajamas and "ordering up" a movie online is hard to compete against; there's no getting around it)--movie theaters have a monumental task ahead of them if they're going to stay relevant and alive. Movie theaters have a mountain to climb, now, if they're going to hold on to their place as a cathedral, of sorts--a holy place, the grail castle, holding in our hearts the nostalgic, traditional memory of the place where we go, with strangers in a darkened room, to experience the experience of the movies.
But along with all of this, then, is another interesting wrinkle to the story. Streaming services (like, particularly, Netflix, again) have proven--at a remarkably fast pace--to be a formidable competitor. Not only did Netflix learn to play the game early on with movie theaters, but in recent years the company has grown into a powerful movie studio system in its own right. As a result, Netflix has changed not only the rules of the game but also the very layout of the playing field.
Netflix is not a joke, in other words. It really is here to stay, it would seem. And while it's here, it is determined to earn its share (and more) of movie audiences. And it's doing this by quickly expanding into the movie-production business. Of course, for many years now it has created its own original series, and specials, and shows, available only by subscription. But in no time at all (and I mean in what seems like a mere blink of an eye), Netflix Studios has moved into the world of financing, producing, and marketing a growing roll call of impressive, award-worthy motion pictures. Netflix has entered the ring with the big boys--United Artists, Paramount, Universal, et al.--and has established itself, quickly, as a powerhouse to be reckoned with.
Just for example, let's take a look back at 2018, when suddenly little Netflix was appearing on the radar with a list of serious films by serious filmmakers--films that were being endorsed by critics, embraced by audiences, and encouraged by Academy votes as awards season drew near. Top-shelf filmmakers--like brothers, Joel and Ethan Coen--released their 2018 Netflix film, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, both on the streaming service and (concurrently) in a limited number of theaters for a limited theatrical run. Alfonso Cuaron repeated this double-release formula with his heralded 2018 film, Roma, which aired on Netflix while also playing a limited release in theaters throughout the country. Roma was not only my pick for the best film of 2018, but it topped "Best Of" lists of many critics and filmgoers of last year.
[Aside: Of course, it was not meant to be. The Hollywood powers that be--older, established, and unwilling to see this new kid on the block, Netflix, as anything but an interloper in the world of the old Hollywood ways of doing business--decried the nominations of Cuaron's film (though it deserved all the praise it received, in my opinion) and, as we may all remember, bestowed its highest award of Best Picture of the Year to the safe, comfortable, PC film, Green Book, released by (...wait for it...) Universal Pictures. The fallout of it all, however is: Roma is a film that is a genuine work of art and will last (although snubbed by the establishment because of the name Netflix in its credits); Green Book, on the other hand is...well...does anyone even remember it, one year later? Hello? Is this thing on?...]
And by way of a third example of Netflix's presence in the film industry in 2018, one need look no further than Tamara Jenkins' beautiful, sad, funny, and achingly honest feature, Private Life. It was one of the best films of 2018, but as it turns out--for some inexplicable reason--it just sort of lingered in the shadows and stayed there. Though it would eventually receive the same double-release treatment as Roma and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs--its brother and sister on Netflix--the cineplex release didn't happen immediately. And so, unfortunately and unfairly, Private Life failed to gain much notice when it came time, later in the year, for the major awards season. For whatever reason, Private Life did not get the attention it should have gotten--from the critics, from filmgoers, and even from yours truly.
[Aside: More on this topic below, in my lists, actually.]
Which brings us (finally) to this year's "Best Of" list of films, 2019. And a cursory glance at the studios that I've included for my picks will tell you immediately the lay of the land for the playing field these days. For example, the little studio, A24 (which has, over the past several years, been home to a number of high-quality, smaller, independent-style films) claims four films to its credit on my various lists below. The streaming service, Hulu, claims one. And the giant, Netflix, has emerged from the footlights this year to stand fully in the spotlight, center stage, with five of my favorite films of this year to its credit.
And it's not just me. One or two of these Netflix films are being embraced and lauded--nearly universally--as one or two of the finest films of the year. And with another awards season quickly approaching, the interloping new kid on the block may finally elbow its way this year all the way to the big stage, to claim what it deserves.
The old ways of Hollywood may be teetering on its pedestals. "The center cannot hold," T.S. Eliot warned. Statues may fall this year. (Or in the year to follow. Or the next year....) Or be pulled down.
The revolution is at hand. And these are interesting times to love the movies.
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LIST #3
Movies From 2019 I Still Haven't Seen Yet (To Date) That I'm Guessing Probably Would Have Made It Somewhere On My "End-of-Year Best-Of" List
(Had I Seen Them In Time)
1.) The Farewell -- (Director: Lulu Wang, Studio: A24)
Obviously--as the title of this list more than clearly spells out--I have not seen this film yet, although I want to. But from everything I've read about it, and from just the trailer alone, I can tell this is a fantastic film. And the emerging star of Awkwafina may be deservedly on the rise. Nominations are in order for her, from what I understand. And I hope that happens.
2.) A Hidden Life -- (Director: Terrence Malick, Studio: Fox Searchlight Pictures)
Love him as a philosophical film-poet, or dismiss him as a pretentious, bloated hack (and I am decidedly in the former camp), director Terrence Malick has made a handful of some of the finest modern American films that we have in the canon: Badlands (1973); Days of Heaven (1978); The Thin Red Line (1998); Tree of Life (2011). To put it simply, I would go see any film made by Malick. He is a treasure.
3.) The Lighthouse -- (Director: Robert Eggers, Studio: A24)
I admittedly don't know much about this film, other than that it stars Willem Dafoe, Robert Pattinson, and a seagull. I also know that the black-and-white cinematography by Jarin Blaschke is being praised. Oh...and the name Robert Eggers gets my attention, as well, as he helmed 2015's unsettlingly pleasant surprise, The Witch. Weirdness reigns amid the rocks and the waves, by all accounts. I can't wait.
4.) Little Women -- (Director: Greta Gerwig, Studio: Sony Pictures)
Former "mumblecore" leading lady and newly emerging director-par-excellence (her debut, 2017's Lady Bird, was the best movie of that year, in my opinion), Greta Gerwig is rising on the scene as a huge talent. Reuniting with her Lady Bird star, Saoirse Ronan, this new updating of Alcott's famous, beloved novel--in the hands of Gerwig--is getting some new life breathed into (c.a. the age of women's empowerment). It may be upsetting some devoted fans of the book, who view the written text as Gospel, clearly; but it seems the majority of audience members are pleased with this retelling. Two things are certain, regardless: Both Gerwig and Ronan have proven themselves great at their respective art. They work well together, too.
5.) 1917 -- (Director: Sam Mendes, Studio: Universal Pictures)
To date, this film hasn't even been released yet, but good Lord...the trailers. This thing looks good. This thing looks really good. And, supposedly, it has been filmed and cut to appear as if the entire film is all shot in one long take. Cinematic experimentalism on early-20th century battlefields, all in the capable hands of Sam Mendes. I look forward to seeing it.
6.) Uncut Gems -- (Directors: Josh Safdie and Bennie Safdie, Studio: A24)
I think I know even less about this film, really, than any of the others, except for the fact that it's getting some explosively good initial reviews--particularly Sandler's dramatic performance as a jeweler/gambler gone bad. Sandler has been on the skids, career-wise, for a while now. But I've always found him particularly interesting when he ventures into dramatic territory. His nervous, angsty, angry shtick works really well in the handful of dramas that he's been in. He's got the goods. I'd like to see this, if for no other reason than to watch Sandler's performance.
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LIST #2
2019 Honorable Mentions *
So, my various lists here are going to start getting a little more interesting, with more of the entries reflecting some of the "revolutionary" aspects I alluded to above. And here is a perfect example to begin with: This year, the streaming service, Hulu, released a new 6-part adaptation of Joseph Heller's classic 1961 anti-war satire. Previously, the book had been interpreted for the big screen in 1970 by the young Broadway/Hollywood phenom-director, Mike Nichols, whose incredible one-two punch of 1966's classic film version of Edward Albee's, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, was followed one year later by the classic anthem of disaffected youth, The Graduate. Nichols' Catch-22 is a fine film...but it's not great. It's certainly not without its problems. And the largest problem with it is that the bulk of Heller's book is either rewritten, reshaped, truncated, or trimmed away entirely to fit Paramount's carefully budgeted 2-hour time frame. And the problem with that is you can't honestly (not to mention accurately) tell Heller's story in a 2-hour movie. So this is where the magic of streaming services like Hulu can pick up the slack and present a long-form serialized motion picture--like this one. Does this movie work? Yes...for the most part. It is not perfect. It has some problems still. But it is at least the closest thing to Heller's original, intended tone and vision that we've been allowed to see so far on the screen--large or small. Does a film like this (serialized, not released in the cineplexes but instead only streamed on a subscription service at home) belong in any discussion of "End-of-Year-Best-Of" lists. To quote Dylan, here: "The times, they are a'changin'." And I think in 2019 the answer to that question has to be, unequivocally, "Yes."
2.) Private Life -- (Director: Tamara Jenkins, Studio: Netflix, 2018) *
Okay... I know. I know. I realize I'm not far into all this official listing business, and I've already cheated. I've already had to insert an asterisk. (I've already fucked things up; let's say it like it is.) But still... I feel compelled to include this film on my list of favorite movies that I watched this year--or at least an Honorable Mention, for God's sake--because even though it was released last year (literally, January, 2018), I did not get around to discovering this gem until this year, basically a year after its release. Let me be very honest: This is a wonderful movie; and had I been aware of it last year (I take total blame for this, for whatever reason), I would have included it on my list of favorite movies of 2018--alongside Netflix's Roma and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (interestingly enough). But I didn't see it last year; I only saw it later--this year. And so, technically, it's one of the best movies I saw this year, 2019, even though it was released last year, and this little movie deserves an Honorable Mention mention, if nothing else. (And if that rationale sounds irrational and like I'm trying too hard to include a movie on a list simply because I want to include it, even though it doesn't belong and invalidates the whole notion of list-making...well...then, touche', I guess. I don't care: It's my list; I can do whatever the hell I want.)
3.) Rocketman -- (Director: Dexter Fletcher, Studio: Paramount Pictures)
I heard the question asked: "Did we really need another biopic about a gay British rockstar, following last year's hugely popular biopic on Freddie Mercury, Bohemian Rhapsody?" Well, the answer this year was, "Sure. Why not?" Fletcher's take on the material, here, was interesting and came at me a little unexpected: I wasn't sure, at first, what everyone was doing during the opening musical numbers--singing and dancing, as if it were an old-fashioned movie musical. (Until the obvious occurred to me: That's exactly what was going on.) How clever to bring that approach to the life of Elton John and to the material of his songs. The movie worked.
4.) Tell Me Who I Am -- (Director: Ed Perkins, Studio: Netflix)
This movie took my breath away. I was not expecting this when I started it. I didn't cheat and go online beforehand to look up spoilers. I simply watched the trailer for this documentary film on Netflix, and I saw the critical praise the film had garnered, and I decided to hit PLAY. And I couldn't take my eyes off it. And afterwards, I had to watch it again. And then I couldn't stop thinking about it--the ethical dilemma and argument that resides at the core of this story. The real-life drama that unfolds as two twin brothers confront each other, across a table, after years of silence and separation, and get down to truths and revelations about their family... The greatest playwrights living would not be able to script a better work of fiction than this true story, told minimally and effectively. A very powerful nonfiction film from Netflix.
5.) Us -- (Director: Jordan Peele, Studio: Universal Pictures)
While I thought that Jordan Peele's 2017 directorial debut, Get Out, was a good film--well made and entertaining--I honestly felt it was overrated, too. I didn't think it was a bad movie, but I didn't think it was as great as everyone else seemed to think it was. And so this year, when Peele's follow-up came out, Us, I figured it might be the same kind of thing: An entertaining and well-made film, but nothing great. But I was wrong. Us is a much better film than its predecessor, I feel. There is a lot going on here. And after seeing it at a local cineplex with my two older-teen daughters, the drive home that night after the show was given over to discussing, and dissecting, and debating what we had just seen. (Not a bad way to spend an evening with my daughters....)
6.) When They See Us -- (Director: Ava DuVernay, Studio: Netflix)
Another instance of a streaming service getting it right. When it comes to trying to tell an intricate story in a thorough, artistic, and emotionally satisfying way, this is how it's done. Like Hulu demonstrated earlier in the year with its long-form treatment of Catch-22, Netflix responded in kind with an amazingly powerful long-form telling of the infamous Central Park Five case of 1989. This movie hit audiences right in the gut, and it did not stop throughout the length of its four serialized chapters. It was a weakening experience watching this film. It hurt, emotionally. It gripped you, and it didn't let go. When They See Us is a perfect argument, in fact, for why the revolution in the film industry is happening and should be happening. This is what streaming services can do better than the old-fashioned Hollywood/feature-film system. This is a beautiful movie that could not have been told any better any other way.
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LIST #1
My Top 10 Films of 2019
Like the second half of its title implies, the emphasis here is on "smart." The script of Booksmart is alive with intelligence and a caustic, raunchy, bold sense of humor. This is the kind of young-teen post-adolescence-on-the-cusp-of-adulthood sort of film that generally features young men in the leads. (American Graffiti. Diner. Superbad. I could go on...) In fact, it isn't too difficult to imagine a stereotypical film-pitch in some Hollywood producer's office, beginning, "Imagine Superbad. But with girls." And while that comparison is apt, and not really an insult, Booksmart is so much more than just "Superbad with girls." It is so much better than just that three-word encapsulation implies. At its heart, Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever form an inseparable pair of irrepressibly lovable loners--two misfit young women, best friends since the playground, celebrating their last night together, and their first night ever of planned debauchery, before graduating from high school and going their separate ways. No, it's not a particularly original conceit, and it's not meant to be. That's part of the joy of it, actually. The familiar journey that the two girls go on over the course of one long night is a classic set-up that we've seen played out before...yes... But never quite like this. And it's a delightful breath of fresh air. It's a little bit trashy. It's a little bit raunchy. It's funny. It's silly. It's honest. It's moving. I really enjoyed it.
9.) Joker -- (Director: Todd Phillips, Studio: Warner Bros. Pictures)
This movie impressed me. Despite the fallout from negative criticism and controversies surrounding the movie's release (its purported careless disregard for on-screen violence; its supposed misrepresentation of mental illness; its accused pandering to cliches' and tropes from a handful of Martin Scorcese's early existential masterpieces), Phillips' film knocked my legs out from under me. It's a serious film that takes its subject matter, its genre, and its iconic anti-hero protagonist seriously. And Joaquin Phoenix's performance?... Well, this will be considered sacrilege by many avid contemporary filmgoers and film buffs, but for years now--since Christopher Nolan's 2008, The Dark Knight--Heath Ledger's mesmerizing performance of The Joker (his last role, as it turned out) has been considered the career-defining performance, the golden ring, the standard-bearer. In my opinion, though, Phoenix overshadows Ledger's performance. He outdoes him. This is jawdropping method-acting going on in this movie. Joaquin Phoenix deserves recognition for what he's done here.
In the spirit of full disclosure: I was actually a little reluctant to go see this movie, at first. I was a big fan of Morgan Neville's 2018 documentary film, Won't You Be My Neighbor? In fact, that film appeared on my "Best Of" list last year. Similarly, Gavin Edwards' 2019 book, Kindness and Wonder: Why Mr. Rogers Matters Now More Than Ever, appeared on a recent list of mine, as I tallied some of my favorite reads of the past year. Let's face it: In an irony that even he could not have foreseen, it is "hip" these days to jump on the Mr. Rogers fan-bus. And I'm actually all-in on that. I get it. When I was sitting in the theater last year, watching Neville's documentary, I am not too proud to admit that, sitting there in the dark with a room full of strangers (as is the custom when venturing forth to watch a movie the old-fashioned way), I found myself crying more than once. A knot in the back of the throat. A tightening of air passages. Eyes filling with tears. And crying. More than once. And I wondered about that: Why? What about this man, Fred Rogers, has the power today to elicit--from a grown man, like myself--such emotions coming out of nowhere? Am I depressed? Am I sad? Is it the times that we live in--so disruptive, so divided, so acidic, so knee-jerk volatile, and so angry? Everything about this gentle, kind man represents the exact opposite of all of that, and I think Neville's 2018 documentary film--as does Heller's 2019 feature film, here-- captures the spirit and the soul of Fred Rogers so perfectly. He is an antidote for our times. He, and everything that he was and that he still represents, is what we are missing today, and maybe what we need. And, so, yes, I did go see Heller's movie (as I knew I would all along). And, yes, Tom Hanks is his usual brilliant self. But so much more than that, even, it's the film's script, and the rest of the cast, and the direction, and the art design, and the spirit of Fred Rogers running through every frame of the movie. It's all rather lovely and...well...beautiful.
7.) Jojo Rabbit -- (Director: Taika Waititi, Studio: Fox Searchlight Pictures)
I guess in a roundabout way you could say this movie is the best thing to come out of Disney's subsidiary, Marvel Studios, in all of 2019. [Aside: I'm not kidding.] For what do you do after making a truckload of money, directing 2017's Thor: Ragnarok? Well, for starters--if you're Taika Waititi--you take the helm of a little dream-project inspired by Christine Leunen's international bestselling novel, Caging Skies, which tells the story of a young boy, Johannes Betzler, a member of the Hitler Youth, growing up in Nazi-controlled Vienna during W.W.II as a lonely, sensitive, imaginative, and compassionate little boy who has, as his imaginary friend, none other than Adolf Hitler. [Aside: And it's right about here where I usually lose people when trying to explain the premise of this film.] How, you might ask, does Waititi take this outrageous (and possibly even offensive) concept and turn it into one of the brightest, funniest, deepest, saddest, liveliest, most run-out-of-the-theater-afterwards-and-tell-all-your-friends-to-go-see-it movies of the year? Well...he does it. Channeling the likes of auteur filmmaker, Wes Anderson, Waititi brings just the right touch to his material, letting this gentle little fable unfold to share its message of love and understanding and acceptance. And by the time we, along with little Jojo, discover the tough and tender Jewish girl that his mother is hiding in their house, there is no turning away from this film. It's extraordinary. Jojo Rabbit is one of the great surprises for me this year. A great little film.
6.) Midsommar -- (Director: Ari Aster, Studio: A24)
More than any movie on my list (for whatever this may or may not say about me), Aster's movie lingered in the back of my mind long after I finished watching it--replaying scenes, images, and ideas over, and over, and over. This movie haunted me, disturbed me, intrigued me, fascinated me, and finally convinced me that it is, in fact, a great movie. Of course, as soon as a filmmaker/artist comes along and tries to do something startling and fresh, the negative appraisals and accusations are quick to surface, claiming that actually Midsommar was just a crude and easily apparent "lifting" of Robin Hardy's creepy 1973 cult-classic, Wicker Man. But that's not true. And it's selling both movies too short, I think. Yes, are there some motifs and tones and themes from Hardy's film that reappear in Aster's story? Of course. Such criticisms mean nothing to me, though, since they seem to act as if art (any art) exists in a vacuum somehow, oblivious to the inspirations and the influences of all the art that has come before. That's the way it has always worked--whether you want to call it inspiration or homage or "lifting. [Aside: Go back and read Professor Harold Bloom's seminal 1973 critical work, The Anxiety of Influence, if you want to understand how this works in literature, storytelling, etc. It's hardly anything new. In the meantime, give Aster his due: He is the real deal. He knows what he's doing, and what he's doing is something very interesting and exciting.] While 2018's Hereditary got attention and praise, my initial viewing told me that it was somehow overrated. After watching this year's Midsommar, however, I see that he's building on something. There are echoes within his work. He's really trying to do something as an artist; I look forward to seeing where he goes next. (I may have to turn my head on occasion, not wanting to see what he's showing me. But that's okay. I'll go along with him where he leads. I trust him.... I think.)
5.) Knives Out -- (Director: Rian Johnson, Studio: Lionsgate)
Wunderkind writer/director, Rian Johnson, had a rough 2017. After weathering the storm of online critical backlash from some overly zealous and unimaginative cult-like Star Wars "fans," Johnson--whose eighth chapter in that saga, the much unfairly maligned, The Last Jedi--decided to quickly regroup, circle the wagons, and raise a filmic middle-finger to all of his unappreciative naysayers. [Aside: For the record--and this is coming from an admitted lifelong Star Wars fan--I loved his contribution to the Star Wars canon. Johnson's 2017, The Last Jedi, is fresh, and daring, and fun. I think it's a very good movie, and I actually feel kind of bad for him, having to put up with so much whining and crying from supposed "fans" who supposedly didn't get what they supposedly wanted. But I digress....] His latest film, Knives Out--fresh on the heels of all the heaped abuse--is about as much fun as anything you were likely to see at the movies this past year. As he is seemingly wont to do, Johnson turns his attention to yet another genre and does his usual tinkering and deconstructing-reconstructing. And what you have, then, is a modernized Agatha Christie-style murder-mystery, the likes of which you've never quite seen. There is just enough post-modern edginess to keep the whole thing kind of hipsterish and cool, but it's mainly a blast from the past (not to mention a blast at his childish critics who don't seem to "get" him). Johnson is the real deal, though. This movie put a smile on my face for its whole running time.
4.) Once Upon a Time in ... Hollywood -- (Director: Quentin Tarantino, Studio: Sony Pictures)
Like an old, champion prizefighter, Quentin Tarantino (with his ninth feature film credited to his resume',) still has the moves. And when he wants to, he can still come into the ring (and his "ring," here, is not so much a genre as it is a film-storytelling style that he very nearly created single-handedly back in the early-1990s), maybe a little older, maybe not quite as in-shape as he used to be, maybe a little slower, maybe a little more methodical in his game-plan. But when he decides to put it all together and to get into his new-found rhythm, like that metaphorical old boxer, Tarantino can still swing with the best of them and can still prove that he's the undisputed champ. Simply put: Nobody does what Quentin Tarantino does better than Quentin Tarantino. And he does it all again flawlessly, here. He has maybe faltered a time or two in his career. (His previous directorial outing, for example, 2015's The Hateful Eight, had all the usual pieces in place--it looked and sounded and felt like a Tarantino film--but, God help me, the movie felt like a mess and a bit of a slog to sit through.) With this outing, though, Tarantino again finds his stride. And as he does so often and so well, he is begging, borrowing, and stealing from every one of his cherished memories as a lifelong lover of the movies. His title, here--borrowed from Italian director, Sergio Leone, who enjoyed reusing the phrase for his own movies (Once Upon a Time in the West, and Once Upon a Time in America, et al.)--is a definitive nod to film geeks everywhere. But Tarantino's title serves another purpose, too. He's reminding us that he, just as he's always been, is in the business and the art of telling stories. And his story this time is about those who are also, like him, in the business and the art of telling stories. And like all the old, traditional stories that begin with the phrase, "Once upon a time..." and end with the closing coda, "...and they all lived happily ever after," Tarantino is going to deconstruct this narrative pattern in his usual premeditated, post-modern way. For in this film, as the title tells us, Tarantino sets the scene in Hollywood, a veritable land of make-believe, where anything can happen, and usually does. And in this particular story--as in all the great stories of old--truth is malleable. It can be reshaped and reformed to fit whatever fictional reality the storyteller wants. And we've seen him do this before, as a filmmaker. (I'm thinking particularly of 2009's great, Inglorious Basterds, where Tarantino had Adolf Hitler and the Nazis get their fitting comeuppance in a fiery blaze of ingloriousness.) Because in this world of make-believe, after all, anything can happen. Facts can be altered. History can be rewritten. Good people don't have to die senselessly and brutally at the hands of crazed, drugged-out followers of Charles Manson. The good guys can win, after all. And the dead don't have to die. They can be brought back to life. And they can, as the saying goes, all live happily ever after....
3.) Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker -- (Director: J.J. Abrams, Studio: Disney)
What is there left to say about Star Wars? For the past 42 years, I have followed along with these characters and this storyline (as admittedly clunky and convoluted as it has gotten at times) with the same devotion of that wide-eyed 10 year-old boy who first sat in his seat in a darkened movie-theater way back in May of 1977 and fell in love with George Lucas' imagined universe. Whether they are good movies or bad movies, whether they make sense or they don't make sense, whether they are deemed to be too slavishly devoted to the tried-and-true formula that has worked before or are deemed to be too daring, and different, and disrespectful of the audience's wants and needs, none of that talk matters to me. My rational mind as one who obviously likes to study film, analyze film, and "talk film" admittedly gets put on the shelf when it comes to something like Star Wars. I love it. And I always have. I don't care about all the incessant online chatter and banter. There's no end to it. There's no outcome that could make everyone happy. There is no way that Abrams' film could possibly be all things to all people. The film-saga's worldwide legion of fans is made up of many particular mindsets, and there is no way that this, the supposed final chapter in the Skywalker saga, was going to wrap everything up nice and neat for everyone, answering all questions, and resolving everything in a way that would satisfy all fans everywhere. That was an impossibility. But, all that being said, I think Abrams has done a rather remarkable and admirable job. I don't care about all the naysayers. I don't care about all the negative hype, all the cool, uber-ironic, hipsterish hate being dished out on something as "old" and "outdated" and "so totes '70s" as Star Wars. [Aside: "Okay boomer." Really? Give me a fucking break. And while you're at it, learn how to actually have a logical discussion and discourse. And take your airpods out of your ears, and get your phone out of your hands, and look me in the eyes, and speak intelligibly, and pull up your goddamned pants. THEN we can talk about your thoughts and opinions. Maybe.] Is this a perfect film? No. Does it have its share of flaws? Yes. Is it silly, and goofy, and irrational? Yes. (And in so saying, I have just neatly summarized every Star Wars film ever made.) But did I have a good time watching it? Yes. Did it thrill me, make me laugh, move me, and recapture for me that elusive sense of childlike wonder and fun that I first felt when I was that 10 year-old boy? Absolutely yes...to all of it. I got the lumps in the back of the throat. The tears stinging the eyes, on several occasions throughout. I had "all the feels" while watching The Rise of Skywalker, to be sure. Totes. The movie played me, just as surely as John Williams' familiar opening crash of chords played, once again, over the loud Surround Sound speakers in the cineplex. And I loved it. Abrams' film is a great ending to it all, I think. So there.
2.) The Irishman -- (Director: Martin Scorcese, Studio: Netflix)
Recently, I revisited the Art Institute of Chicago, strolling through its familiar marbled halls. My favorite area of the museum would have to be its Impressionism wing. And some of the artists I am always most drawn to are deservedly famous names of 19th century (usually French or Dutch) Impressionism--artists such as Gustave Caillebotte, Edgar Degas, Vincent Van Gogh, and Claude Monet. Particularly with the museum's rather comprehensive collection of Monet's paintings--his various series of the Houses of Parliament, shimmering in a gauzy haze across the Thames; his ponds; his lily-pads; his gardens; his haystacks--it is surprisingly thrilling to slowly walk along, looking at each of his canvases, so many times the same subject, the same view, a similar composition, a similar take on what (at just a casual, passing glance) appears to be the same painting painted over and over and over. But of course to a careful eye you see what Monet was really trying to do with his repetition, with his repainted scenes of haystacks--some of them in the bright sunlight and blue sky, some of them at dusk with a pink and violet tinge, some of them capped with snow, some of them bare in the broiling summer sun. Monet was not out of ideas; he was simply exploring the theme of the passage of time on his chosen set of beloved subjects. He observed the changing seasons. He observed how the seconds, minutes, and hours moved. The way the light changes. The way shadows appear and stretch themselves across the ground. The same subject--looked at from different angles, at different times, and in different ways--could appear as a different subject every time.This is what the great artists do. And this is what Martin Scorcese has done--one more time--with his latest film, The Irishman, the "inspired-by-true-events" life story of a life in the mob; told as only he can tell it; told as he has told it many times before...but different. Studying the light. Studying the change of seasons. Studying the passage of time. It almost seems beside the point to say that the cast for this thing is impeccable. Once again, he is joined by his two favorite muses, the actors Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci. Between just Scorcese and De Niro, alone, the two of them have created some of the greatest film-art of our time: Mean Streets; Taxi Driver; Raging Bull; Goodfellas.... Do I need to go on? When Pesci joined them in 1980 for Raging Bull, what Scorcese managed to tap into--an improvisational feel of the on-screen relationship between his two actors--is the kind of gold that you can really only be lucky at striking once. But then the three of them struck it again together in 1990's Goodfellas. And then again, five years later, in Casino. And now, fast-forward 24 years, to 2019's The Irishman. [Aside: And to think that I haven't even mentioned Al Pacino's name yet, playing (to the hilt) Teamsters leader, Jimmy Hoffa. This should tell you what kind of movie this is when I "bury the lead" like that, finally getting around to mentioning an actor of Pacino's caliber with just a few sentences left of my review. This thing is a work of art, after all.] The feeling I had while watching this late-career masterpiece from Scorcese (another Netflix production, by the way), was that I was watching a genuine artist at work--a group of them, actually, comfortable with one another, familiar with one another, familiar with this story, and these characters, and this subject. But it's not, finally, about the repetition of the subject. It's about the changing of the seasons. And the passage of time. And the way the light moves.
1.) Marriage Story -- (Director: Noah Baumbach, Studio: Netflix)
Which brings me, at long last, to my pick for what I think, finally, is the best movie of 2019. Yet another Netflix production from this past year, this movie is undeniably incredible. It left me speechless when I watched it. And I don't even really want to talk about it here, strangely enough (particularly after I have devoted so much time and space to doing nothing but talking about film, ad nauseum, perhaps). I simply want people to watch this movie. Whatever way you can--whether that is through streaming, on Netflix, in the comfort of your home, or in the movie-theater, at your local cineplex, Whatever. Just find it, and watch it. And maybe you're single. And maybe you're dating or in a relationship with a significant other. And maybe you're married--maybe only just recently married or maybe getting ready to celebrate 30+ years together. And maybe you're divorced. I don't know. I don't want to say that someone who isn't married couldn't understand, or appreciate, or like this film; just as I don't want to say that someone who has never gone through the agonies of divorce couldn't understand, or appreciate, or like this film. But...if you are married, you will certainly "get" this movie in particular ways, as opposed to someone watching it who has never been married. Similarly, if you are divorced, you will most definitely experience the depths of this film in a way that a viewer who is not divorced will not be able to fully understand. That's just the way it is. As someone who has experienced both marriage and divorce, I can say only this: In all my years of watching film and of loving movies, I cannot recall a more devastatingly honest depiction of it all. What Baumbach has accomplished here, with the acting chops of his two leads, Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver (both of whom have never been better on film and who both, deservedly, are being talked about for awards this year), is nothing short of amazing. It's so good, and so powerful, and so affecting, and funny, and sad, and moving, and ultimately hopeful (I think), that all I want to do is encourage you to watch it. During these revolutionary times of ours, do it now. On Netflix. Or in the cineplex. Take your pick.
