Best Films of the 1990s

The first five are in order of preference, everything after that is random,

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino) 1994

Fargo (Joel and Ethan Coen) 1996

La Haine (Mathieu Kassovitz) 1995

Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese) 1990

Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch) 1995

Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze) 1999

Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse (Fax Bahr, George Hickenlooper, Eleanor Coppola) 1991

Dark City (Alex Proyas) 1998

Three Kings (David O. Russell) 1999

La Belle Noiseuse (Jacques Rivette) 1991

The Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont) 1994

All About My Mother (Pedro Almodóvar) 1999

Secrets & Lies (Mike Leigh) 1996

Beauty and the Beast (Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise) 1991

Seven (David Fincher) 1995

Three Colors: Blue (Krzysztof Kieslowski) 1993

Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson) 1999

Before Sunrise (Richard Linklater) 1995

The Hairdresser's Husband (Patrice Leconte) 1990

Princess Mononoke (Hayao Miyazaki) 1997

Fight Club (David Fincher) 1999

Three Colors: Red (Krzysztof Kieslowski) 1994

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle) 1996

Ratcatcher (Lynne Ramsay) 1999

Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson) 1997

Special Jury Prize:
Leolo (Jean-Claude Lauzon) 1992

Honorable Mention:
Election (Alexander Payne) 1999

Disclaimer: I've yet to see the Dardenne Brothers' "Rosetta" and "La Promesse," and the ending of Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven" still bothers me.

Hugo (Martin Scorsese) 2011

     The first half of Martin Scorsese's "Hugo" is a very effective depiction of a young orphan boy named Hugo living in a Paris train station, and it has been identified as "Dickensian" by critics for no better reason then its inclusion of orphans with English accents who are treated terribly by adults.  The best moments are the point of view shots as Hugo observes the passengers and workers from the station's clocks, reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window."  Also well done is the main theme of his search for a purpose in life, though he assumes it will be related to his job of running the station's clocks and fixing the automaton his Father found in a museum before his death. 
     When the focus switches to the preservation of George Méliès' films and early film history, "Hugo" has an unnecessary dependence on expository dialogue.  Although we are shown footage from classic silent films and recreations of Méliès work, there is a voice over narration that feels like it belongs in a PBS program.  In particular, when Hugo and Isabelle read a book on the beginnings of film and Méliès explains how his film career began and flourished, the narration could have been cut altogether, leaving the images alone with the film's score.  If there was a need for explanation, it could have been short and concise, such as when Méliès points to World War I as the eventual decline of his films' popularity, the only line needed was, "And then the Great War began," and that's it.  While the script's dependence on the source novel, "The Invention of Hugo Cabret" by Brian Selznick may be to blame, Scorsese did manage to avoid heavy narration in a scene when Hugo is having a nightmare of a train going off the tracks and crashing through the station's front entrance.  While the book explains that this really happened, Scorsese allows the scene to be on its own with no added dialogue, with the final shot resembling the photograph of the actual train crash.  It's scenes like this that make you wonder why Scorsese didn't follow this model throughout the film, and how it could have benefited from more "show" and less "tell."

Ratatouille: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Rat

     In the Pixar film, "Ratatouille," writer/director Brad Bird begins with what appears to be a simple and quirky story of a rat in France who dreams of being a great chef.  Remy, the aspiring cook/rat, befriends a clumsy and innocuous human named Linguini whose movements Remy can control by tugging his hair, thus giving Remy a vessel to pursue a career in cooking.  When Remy's father learns of Remy's job cooking with Linguini at a Parisian restaurant, he warns his son of the potential dangers of interacting with humans.  His father takes him to a pest control shop which displays dead rats in its window, explaining that rats will always be seen as vermin, first and foremost, and no matter how comfortable Remy becomes in his new surroundings, he "can't change nature."  Remy then defiantly refuses this notion, responding, "change is nature."  He refuses to accept that being a "rat" and spending his life with his rat clan is all he can hope to be.  The film's main theme now becomes evident with Remy's search for identity, unsatisfied with the potential of searching for food in the garbage, he wants to create something, he wants to cook.  Remy's frustration with his role in society is in full view when he confronts Gusteau, his imaginary chef who acts as his mentor, "I'm sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father. I pretend to be a human through Linguini. I pretend you exist so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?"  What Remy learns in the end is he doesn't have to be one or the other, he can be both a rat and a cook.  The film stresses we don't have to be defined by a specific role, that each individual is complex and unique unto him/herself.  A.O. Scott of the New York Times wrote that "Ratatouille" is "one of the most persuasive portraits of an artist ever committed to film," not only for showing Remy's initiation into the cooking process, but also his journey through self discovery to find his own success and going beyond his designated role in society.

The lack of empathetic characters in "No Counrtry for Old Men"

     The praise for the Coen brothers' "No Country for Old Men" has focused on the film's meticulous set-up of the scenes involving Josh Brolin's Llewelyn Moss and Javier Bardem's Anton Chigurh.  Chigurh's persistent hunt for Moss is given great attention to detail in scenes such as when Chigurh removes his boots so not to be heard and Moss construction of tools out of whatever is available (even though after multiple viewings this reminds me more of "MacGyver").  However, all this momentum comes to a halt when Moss is found shot to death in a motel room.  While the unexpected and anticlimactic death of a main character would seem to be the film's main problem, it is actually more so in the abrupt attempt to focus on the perspective of Tommy Lee Jones' Sheriff Ed Tom Bell.  Although the Sheriff has a few scenes earlier in the film, the bulk of the attention is on Moss and Chigurh.  In the end, the Coens try to make the audience see the destruction and reckless behavior of Moss and Chirgurh through the eyes of the Sheriff.  He is shocked by the actions of the two men, how people can treat each other so.  The problem with this tactic is we don't spend enough time with the Sheriff, since the story is mainly told from the point of view from the other two characters, and then all of a sudden we're supposed to sympathize with the Sheriff mostly by way of his forlorn stare and "aw-shucks, I can't believe this just happened" demeanor.   
     The basic structure of "No Country for Old Men" is similar and more a effective in David Fincher's "Seven," with Morgan Freeman's Detective Somerset in the place of Sheriff Bell, Brad Pitt's Detective Mills for Moss, and Kevin Spacey's John Doe for Chigurh.  Both films have a main theme of man's inhumanity to man, but the difference is Somerset is our guide throughout the entire film, he is the main character, and all of the atrocities are seen from his point of view.  From the beginning, he is presented as the experienced, somewhat jaded detective on the verge of retirement who mentors the young, naive, and at times reckless, ambition of Mills.  This relationship further helps us to identify Somerset as the one who will make the best and hardest decisions, leading Mills through the case.  When "No Country for Old Men" ends on another anticlimactic note with the Sheriff's recollection of an enigmatic dream about his father, "Seven" again manages to out do the Coen brothers with Somerset's last line, "Ernest Hemingway once wrote, 'The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.'  I agree with the second part."

Goodfellas: The Last Temptation of Karen Hill

     "This is not a movie with a lot to say, but it's a movie with a lot of great stories to tell."  This quote is from New York Times' film critic, A.O. Scott, on Martin Scorsese's "Goodfellas," in reference to the film's fast-paced, docudrama narrative style.  Scott argues Scorsese is not interested in grand "Shakespearean" themes, but more in immersing us in the world of the Mafia.  This is a bit of departure from Scorsese's other work, such as Taxi Driver, Mean Streets, and Raging Bull, which are more of character studies dealing with inner conflicts on what society expects them to do.  The characters in "Goodfellas" are not conflicted at all about their roles in society.  They relish the power they have, the only laws they follow are those of the mob, and sometimes not even then.  When Henry Hill is put into the Witness Protection Program, the only thing he regrets is no longer being in the mafia, now he's just a "bum" like everybody else.
     The only true Scorsesean character in "Goodfellas" is Henry's wife, Karen.  From the beginning of their relationship, because her family is Jewish, she was concerned they wouldn't except him since he was an Irish-Italian American.  When Henry tells her to hide the bloody gun he used to beat her neighbor's face in, there is a shot looking down at the gun in her hands, she knew she should have left him right then and there, but she was also exhilarated by the whole event, at how dangerous and violent Henry could be.  When she is introduced to the other mafia wives, she can only think about how terrible they look, wearing too much make-up, awful clothes, and they all talk about how terrible their kids are and their husbands are never home.  She worries about ending up like them, and will it just be inevitable since the only people they interact with are the other mafia families?  Soon she excepts this new life, that these are the only people they spend time with, it all becomes "normal."  She is able to distract herself with the mafia lifestyle's perks, such as when she asks Henry for shopping money and he asks how much, she doesn't say a number, but indicates a size with the space between her index finger and thumb.  The one aspect of the mafia lifestyle she can't except is Henry's mistress.  She is so infuriated that at one point she goes to the mistress' apartment building with her two children and  screams into the intercom to stay away from her husband.  When she confronts Henry, she does so by pointing a gun at this face, perhaps the only way she knows how to fully get his attention.  Although only given a supporting role, Karen finds her place among the other Scorsese characters who struggle with what to do when they don't agree with what is expected of them.             

"WALL-E" and Terry Gilliam's "Brazil"

      While it may be obvious and possibly intentional since one uses the others theme music for a teaser trailer, the similarities between Andrew Stanton's "WALL-E" and Terry Gilliam's "Brazil" go beyond the depiction of a post-apocalyptic world, as both main characters are motivated not by strong political or environmental beliefs, but love.  Both characters have tedious jobs, WALL-E is basically a mobile trash compactor, and Sam Lowry of "Brazil" has a low-level government position.  The only moments they have in breaking the tedium of their daily routines is their aspirations for love, with Lowry's frequent visions of a woman in his dreams that he later identifies as suspected terrorist, Jill Layton, and WALL-E's desire for companionship as viewed in a love-scene from "Hello, Dolly!" which he later associates with the arrival of EVE, a robot sent to investigate the possible return of vegetation on Earth.  Their love for these two female characters motivates their actions throughout the films, as WALL-E tries to fulfill EVE's mission of getting the plant to the spaceship's bridge, while Lowry takes a promotion to find out more information on Layton which ultimately leads to blowing shit up with Robert De Niro for one reason or another.  One difference between the films is that "Brazil" takes place in a totalitarian society, while "WALL-E" is on the Buy-n-Large megaship.  However, some incredibly cynical people could see Buy-n-Large as a totalitarian environment since although the robots assist the human passengers with all of their needs, they also tell them what to eat, what color suit to wear, and Auto is presented as the De facto captain of the ship, refusing to follow the human captain's orders.  Of course, Auto has been programmed not to return to Earth because it is deemed uninhabitable, but so what.  In the end, both WALL-E and Lowry live happily ever after with EVE and Layton, although Lowry turns out to be only imagining his happiness while he is actually strapped to a chair in a catatonic state, but hey, he thinks he's happy, and that's all that matters.  Right?  

The Good Old Days as seen in "Wonder Boys"

     In Michael Chabon's novel, "Wonder Boys," which was later adapted to a film directed by Curtis Hanson, we are introduced to James Leer, a college student in the writing class of the main character, Grady Tripp.  James is a socially awkward recluse, who happens to be the most talented writer in Grady's class.  He loves classic Hollywood films from the late-thirties and forties, especially those directed by Frank Capra and starring George Sanders.  He also has a strong fascination with the deaths of many of the movie stars from this era, particularly those who have committed suicide.  Although it might appear contrary to love these films hailed for their optimism, while also obsessing over how actors such as Sanders killed themselves by taking pills, this contrast is what James is so attracted to, how everything, no matter how good and peaceful, can also have moments of great depression.  At a time when Hollywood projected a specific image of America, particularly small-towns, James understood this image was not necessarily true, as he also believed his favorite director, Capra, knew this to be a romantic fabrication.  To quote the novel, "Capra was always thought of as a great sentimentalist, but the world of his films was filled with shadows--only one man's life, remember, separated Bedford Falls from the garish nightmare of Pottersville--in which there often lurked the specter of ruin and suicide and shame."  There are many times when I hear people over the age of 60 speak of how much better things were when they were growing up, how safe it was and how you didn't have to worry about what strange people were going to do.  You have to wonder how much of this perception was created solely by Hollywood films and television, or is it more the selective memories of the audience?  Did they simply choose to look past the bleak moments in favor of the white picket fences?  It is understandable to view the past in a positive light, but one may also be overlooking a whole other important aspect of life.               

"Love Songs:" The Musical that didn't need music

     After watching a Musical, your first thought probably shouldn't be, "that would have been a really good movie if it wasn't for the music."  Unfortunately, this is the case for Christophe Honore's film, "Love Songs."  Released in 2007, it is considered a "modern" musical, set in present day Paris, following the relationships of three young people, Julie, Alice, and Ismael, how they manage their three-way romance, and how they deal with their immediate grief when Julie dies unexpectedly.  The musical numbers are not elaborately staged, but take place while the characters are walking down the street or sitting in their apartments, however, the problem with the musical elements is not the lack of big production, but the type of music.  Not that there's anything wrong with mumbling French indie rock, it's just too insipid to be an effective device in complementing the plot.  The music should enhance our emotional commitment to the film, not leave us hoping for it to stop so we can get back to the narrative.  There are some wonderful moments in the film, from the look of the cold, damp Parisian streets, the black and white still-photograph sequence of Julie's funeral, to Ismael's seemingly desperate fling with another man that turns into a serious romance.  While I was left thinking of these moments, I forgot the musical numbers almost immediately, and began to wonder if they were even necessary in the first place. 
     Once the films was over, I started to think of certain scenes not with its original music, but with a song by Johnny Flynn and Laura Marling called "The Water."  I first became aware of this song when it was included in the second half of the trailer for another French film, "Goodbye First Love," directed by Mia Hansen-Love.  Though it only took up thirty seconds of the trailer, Flynn's song managed to create a greater sense of young people living in Paris (or another French city) more so than any of the musical numbers in "Love Songs."  It's hard to say if Honore should have just scrapped the whole musical idea and included music in a more traditional manner, or maybe the characters simply could have sung better songs.  Whatever the reason may be, if I ever become more fond of mumbling French music, I will give Honore's film another try, but until that day happens, I'd rather listen to Johnny Flynn.

Best Films of the 2000s

The top five are pretty much in order, everything after that is random.

Ratatouille (Brad Bird) 2007

Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch) 2001

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry) 2004

Half Nelson (Ryan Fleck) 2006

Almost Famous (Cameron Crowe) 2000

Pan's Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro) 2006

Before Sunset (Richard Linklater) 2004

Finding Nemo (Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich) 2003

The Son (Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne) 2002

Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki) 2001

Kill Bill Vol. 2 (Quentin Tarantino) 2004

Y Tu Mama Tambien (Alfonso Cuaron) 2001

Kings and Queen (Arnaud Desplechin) 2004

The Edge of Heaven (Fatih Akin) 2007

The Best of Youth (Marco Tullio Giordana) 2003

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Julian Schnabel) 2007

35 Shots of Rum (Claire Denis) 2009

Bus 174 (Jose Padiha, Felipe Lacerda) 2002

Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson) 2008

WALL-E (Andrew Stanton) 2008

Honorable Mentions:
The Beat that My Heart Skipped (Jacques Audiard) 2005
24 Hour Party People (Michael Winterbottom) 2002
Hunger (Steve McQueen) 2008

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (David Fincher) 2011

     Although I'm a fan of David Fincher's films, I was still a little hesitant to see his version of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" based on its reputation of brutality, a convoluted plot, and overall Swedishness.  While these elements are very much a part of the film, the investigation conducted by Blomkvist and Salander was completely enthralling, reminiscent of the other police procedurals by Fincher, "Seven" and the first two-thirds of "Zodiac."  When Salander discovers the names and numbers from Harriet Vanger's notebook were the female murder victims and the corresponding Bible verses describing how they were killed, I suddenly realized how similar this revelation was to "Seven," and no wonder Fincher was attracted to this material.
     Once it is revealed the killer was Gottfried Vanger, Harriet's ex-Nazi Father, and the victims had biblical or Jewish names, the film then rushes past the reasoning for these murders and why he made such elaborate connections to the Bible.  Instead we are left to assume he committed these acts because was a Nazi, and that's it.  Even worse is his son Martin, who also grew up to be a serial killer of young women, however, he doesn't make any grand statements like his Father, he kills them simply because he gets a kick out of it.  When he is finished with his victims, he doesn't leave any evidence, he even mocks his Father for leaving the bodies in such a theatrical manner, for not being practical.  This is sound advice for not getting caught, but it doesn't make for a very interesting character.
     What makes this so frustrating is Fincher has already dealt with similar material.  In "Seven," when the identity of John Doe had been discovered after the majority of the film had focused on his murders that correspond with the seven deadly sins, there is a scene when Detective Somerset reads a passage from one of Doe's journals, telling how he vomited when a man tried to speak to him on the subway.  Along with the conversation in the car at the end of the film, Doe is presented as having a deep hatred for humanity, how he believes his murders will enlighten them as to what they have become.  Fincher is able to achieve this character's motive with a handful of scenes, and that's all he needed to add to "Dragon Tattoo," just a couple more scenes to flesh out the characters of Gottfried and Martin.  Maybe there was more detail given in Stieg Larsson's novel, and even if it was too much information to fit in a film, it could have been synthesized into at least one scene.  Maybe Martin could have described the influence of learning of his Father's murders when he was a young man, or maybe these crimes were not isolated to their family but were a reflection of their society in general.  Whatever the reason, it probably would have been better than what the film ended up with.