#give me a rakish smile or the horror of his new existence or just some of that irrepressible bitchy flair

[indelicateink]

entertainment weekly, 21 july 2023

[ahouseoflies]

Best Films of 2017, Part IV

We’re getting closer. Part I, Part II, Part III. GOOD MOVIES 42. A Quiet Passion (Terence Davies)- I think the biggest strength of this film, a pretty conventional one by Davies's standards, is a drive inward that is steady but not judgmental. Dickinson's retreat isn't treated as tragedy, but as a natural trajectory that was there in the first scene. (A lot of the heavy lifting is done by Emma Bell, the actress who plays young Emily with constancy.) The life of the mind is a lonely one, but there isn't much choice in the matter. The film moves along in a leisurely way, matching the long days of such privileged people, and it's funny until the bon mots drift into Frank Underwood territory that doesn't make sense. And the parts of the movie that don't work, the ones that succumb to the biopic mold, feel like that: told in the cadence of a joke but a bit empty. 41. Stronger (David Gordon Green)- For most of its running time, Stronger is a raw film bolstered by searing, sharply felt lead performances. It doesn't take the easy way out or succumb to cliche, suggesting that, gasp, maybe being a symbol for an entire city could be exhausting and frustrating. Then, quite quickly, it gives in to all of the cliches. The conversation with Carlos would have been an awesome deleted scene. 40. Split (M. Night Shyamalan)- Shyamalan flat-out knows how to make this kind of movie. It's not without its faults--can you even complain about his tendency to cast himself anymore?--but his cross-cutting game hasn't slipped a beat. The film is composed and patient, but it doesn't trespass the self-indulgent line the way that some of his earlier work does. Some of the abuse stuff is handled clumsily, but I suppose it has to match the touch of the psychology material, which can only be breezy and flippant. Here's what's different about the filmmaker's approach: Shyamalan hasn't guided many actors to great performances. (I guess Haley Joel Osment is still number one.) But this movie is James McAvoy's performance. He gets to have fun technically by switching back and forth among the personas, but the serious business is the fact that the whole thing's tone rests on his shoulders. Like many successful B movies, it has a fluidity that allows the audience to laugh at it, laugh with it, or be genuinely scared--sometimes in a span of minutes. If McAvoy hadn't gone all the way, the movie wouldn't have been able to.

39. Molly’s Game (Aaron Sorkin)- This movie has a lot of the things that make me love movies. A scene in which someone flushes drugs down the toilet and hides valuables because the feds are coming. Self-effacing but rousing speeches that reference classic literature. An "I'm good for it" sequence dedicated to someone's gambling downward spiral. Cleavage. But all of the things I'm describing are window dressing, and this is maybe the first Aaron Sorkin screenplay that has more fat than meat, as tasty as that fat may be. The film's thesis shines in Idris Elba's strangely-accented monologue, the one that starts with "Is this what a RICO suspect looks like?" It seems to suggest that the world is indeed rigged against women, but it might be because they have more integrity than men, which makes it more difficult for them to succeed. It's an interesting notion, and the figure at the center of the film might be perfect to prove it, but there are so many flashbacks and scenes that feel obligatory to get us there. 38. Star Wars: The Last Jedi (Rian Johnson)- Good, if micro-managed in the way that a film-as-shareholder-commodity has to be. It's interesting to me that, though there are only nine movies that take place in this universe, the storytelling is more codified than any other genre I can think of. Even though it's less clinical than The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi has to jump through an inordinate number of hoops to be "a Star Wars movie." No matter how these are sold, they all have the same beats. That history is a gift in some ways. Even though we haven't heard from him in thirty-plus years, Jedi Master Luke's personality tracks in every way. It makes total sense how he would hold people up as symbols instead of personalities, and the movie benefits from the archetypes its predecessors have created. On the other hand, I think we spend thirty minutes on a mission that fails, and the movie hangs Finn out to dry. It's a sort of Empire mandate that the characters have to be separated from one another for the majority of the running time, and that makes for a strained middle section. I get that people like these movies because they're engineered and manicured for maximum pleasure, and I cherish the goofy bits like the drunk creature thinking BB-8 is a slot machine. Maybe these just aren't for me. Until I cry at the end. 37. Win It All (Joe Swanberg)- It ends abruptly and doesn't get as psychological as it could, but Win It All is designed for maximum pleasure. There are a few inventive gestures that make for a jaunty hang--I loved the superimposed counter that showed how up or down Eddie's bankroll was. Jake Johnson, who co-wrote, has real rakish chops. 36. American Made (Doug Liman)- It's helpful to compare this movie to T.C.'s summer disaster The Mummy, which cast him as a static rake. Doug Liman presents the same smiling mug, but he punches a few holes into the persona, letting us see the shortcomings of T.C.'s Barry Seal if not the delusional quality that the actual man must have had. (The movie tries to sell us on boredom as the main motivation for a near-suicide mission, but it was probably more complex than that.) The actor is at his best when he lets himself seems slightly dumb, when the audience is a few steps ahead of him. Luckily, that's the whole film. It helps that this is the first Liman movie since the original Bourne Identity to have a vibrant "stolen" quality to its visuals. American Made careens through its beats at a breakneck pace, and the biggest flaw of the movie is that it remains that fast at the end, when we need more answers. 35. Mudbound (Dee Rees)- A true ensemble, Mudbound has a deft hand with its own emotional effects. Dee Rees knows the moments that matter--the reunion of father and son after the War is unforgettable--and she nails them. The ending is a poignant culmination of a lot of momentum. Much of the film's success comes from real Movie Stars, Jason Mitchell chief among them, elevating their characters past types though. And some of them don't get there all the way. Jason Clarke's Henry is pretty much Unfeeling Man's Man Farmer and Jonathan Banks is totally Racist Pappy. (Not a joke: His character is actually called Pappy.) In the end, I can't help but suspect that similar characters and situations--he drinks to forget what he's seen!--haven't been staged better elsewhere.

34. Raw (Julia Ducournau)- These types of movies--by that I mean late New French Extremity, I guess--have to go too far. If they didn't, they would lose the perverse aesthetic high ground that they're all so smug about. So it goes too far, but I would like to show Raw to someone making, say, an X-Men movie because Julia Ducournau crafts more immersive world-building in twenty minutes than some of those movies do in multiple entries. The beginning was jagged, but when the storytelling settled into itself, it reminded me of Repulsion because the taboo that guides Raw starts out as a metaphor, then becomes a device, then becomes literal, and then it circles back around to metaphor. Maybe that journey is the reason it exists.  33. Get Out (Jordan Peele)- I saw this movie twice. The first time I was kind of cavalier about it. The line I said at parties was: “I personally prefer genre movies that let you attach social commentary to them. The subtext is the text here.”  Knowing the film's secrets the second time around helped me to appreciate the performances better, especially in the powerhouse hypnotism scene. Kaluuya has to play an everyman but also, for obvious reasons, an everyman who stands out. The balance of vulnerability and heroism that he pulls off is impressive, armed with a fake-smile that is perfect for the micro-aggressions he has to stand and take. Chris embodies a civility that lets him stay in the house past his level of comfort, but he’s smart enough to insist on leaving when some horror protagonists would get illogical. I still think the film escalates a bit too quickly from suspicion to actual danger, and, man, I don't know what that TSA investigation tangent is doing at such a crucial moment. But I'll admit that I didn't give the film enough credit in February. Comedies of manners are common; horrors of manners are rare. 32. Logan Lucky (Steven Soderbergh)- From a screenwriting perspective, there are probably two schools of thought for heist movies. Approach A outlines every detail of the plan; that way, when the characters overcome their challenges, we are more impressed because we were warned of the dangers in advance. Approach B leaves the viewer in suspense, and the hurdles pop up for the viewer in a way that mirrors the characters' surprise. I prefer Approach A, and I think there's a degree of difficulty that can't be discounted there. In fact, there's a sort of joy of exposition that is unique to the heist genre and jives with Approach A. Logan Lucky operates mostly on plane B, and it frustrated me at first in what seems like a sterile, straight first act. But then, as I try to avoid spoilers, it goes so far past what we thought the heist would be, and it branches out into Soderberghian "what was actually happening during that time" territory. I had to re-evaluate my prejudices as I joined in on the fun. Despite the inevitable "What It Did Wrong" YouTubes that some killjoy will make, I didn't notice any narrative cheating. Daniel Craig is the eye in the zany storm. 31. The Big Sick (Michael Showalter)- I feel slightly diminishing returns with each super-autobiographical portrait of a comedian. As heart-wrenching as this one gets, it follows the beats that we're used to, right down to the rock-bottom argument with a fast food cashier. Cue the twenty different endings and the uninspired visual style. But why be a sour-puss when faced with a movie so sincere and eager to please? Besides keeping all of the subplot plates spinning, besides being fair to the female character, the film offers original moments and ideas. The triangle that emerges among Nanjiani, Romano, and Hunter authentically captures the way decorum frost melts once two generations realize their common ground. And "the movie that a guy shows a girl to test her taste on a third date" is something that I myself am guilty of, but I haven't seen it portrayed in a film. What isn't unique in the big structural picture is completely unique in certain moments. 30. The Belko Experiment (Greg McLean)- Its ending is only "good enough," but The Belko Experiment is my kind of ultraviolent trash. I would be perfectly happy if we could get the White Stripes of Experiment movies on odd years and alternate them with The Strokes of Purge movies on even years. For one reason or another, empathy machine John Gallagher, Jr. is still in his Hi, Mom! or Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight phase. When he gets his Taxi Driver, watch out.

29. The Lego Batman Movie (Chris McKay)- I laughed twice during the opening production logos. Of course it devolves into everyone teaming up to save the city, as the straight versions of these movies do, but The Lego Batman Movie, especially in its lower stakes first half, was one of the funniest films of the year. I'm kind of thrilled that the satirizing of tropes I cherished from the margins in the '90s is now de rigeur, sponsored by the same studio that has shoved cliches down our throats. Will Arnett deserves special mention for inhabiting this specific version of Batman so well that he makes you rethink 70+ years of the character's make-up. It's no small feat. This movie, yes, probably counts as a slip-up of my superhero ban. I didn’t realize that until I was halfway through.

28. A Cure for Wellness (Gore Verbinski)- This is a difficult film to recommend because, if the person you're talking to cares only about story, he won't like it. It's strained and sometimes illogical, a "you can never leave" story that has been around the block a few times. But look out for the Miami Viceans on here when this film gets reconsidered for its visuals because, I'm telling you now, A Cure for Wellness has the most stately and controlled images this side of Kubrick. It's a perfect reference Blu-Ray if you still care about such things. Verbinski is credited with the story, and I doubt he told the screenwriter much more than "water, wrinkled faces, the color white," but he does some things with that sandbox that I haven't seen before. 27. It Comes at Night (Trey Edward Shults)- It Comes at Night never completely explains its own horror conceit of encroaching "sickness"; even by the end, there's a lot that we don't know about the apparently apocalyptic event that has singled out the characters. That presence of an absence is the film's greatest strength--it allows us to attach to the human frailty at the center without distraction. However, it's the film's greatest weakness as well because it's what keeps the proceedings small, like a cost-cutting measure. In capturing bleak human frailty, Trey Edward Shults knows exactly what he's doing. He uses literal darkness to suggest emotional darkness, and his script guides the viewer along character arcs without holding anyone's hand. A character uses the word "brother-in-law" instead of "brother" and, because of the context, it produces as much of a gasp as a gunshot would. I didn't recognize Riley Keough at first, which is an excellent sign for a young actress. There's a moment when her character catches another character eyeing her breasts, and she tugs her shirt with a unique mixture of flattery and shame. I can't wait to see what she does next. 26. Wind River (Taylor Sheridan)- If a movie has a scene of #RennerSeason making his own bullets, then my fingers won't let me give it lower than three stars. He's amazing/hilarious in this as the know-it-all spirit warrior--basically Steven Seagal in a better actor's body. He's perfect for squinting and selling lines like, "You keep looking for clues...but you're missing all the signs." Taylor Sheridan's screenplay is tight and meticulous in a way that we used to get all the time but feels special now. The backstory is doled out with care, and every character is rich enough to get a moment to shine. He shoots his own material with less visceral impact than someone like Denis Villeneuve did, but he does lend a specific sense of place to the film.There's a crucial late scene that sort of solves the mystery for us, making everything that comes after seem like falling action baggage. Your mileage may vary, but I'm not sure there are other ways to get across the information. I was okay with it. 25. The Post (Steven Spielberg)- The Post is a great time at the movies, but it's ultimately a bit too much of a movie for me. It has a hand-held lightness to its look, an energy that belies how quickly it was made. Streep's Kate Graham has a satisfying arc that eschews a lot of the grandstanding that this type of picture would normally lend her. Her lesson in confidence is laid on thickly, but Streep doesn't play it that way. Unfortunately some of the brusqueness I like in the filmmaking carries over to the screenplay. It offers few of the laughs-in-crisis that make individual Spielberg scenes so good, and most of the conflicts resolve themselves just a little too easily. ("I wonder if the guy I think has the papers actually has them...yep, after a few calls, I found out he does.") The less said about the cartoonish Vietnam protestors and the CCR needle-drop, the better. Overall, do I prefer the lean, realistic version of this story over the more belabored, showy version? Sure.

24. The Work (Jairus McLeary, Gethin Aldous)- The Work is undeniably raw, pure, and effective in the emotion it documents and generates. The access given to the filmmakers as they capture a group therapy program in Folsom State Prison is unbelievable. But for that reason, there's something on the margins of the film that feels exploitative and violating to me. I'm interested in how Bloods and Aryans console each other, not to mention how the most damaged figure is not a prisoner at all. But I get the sense I shouldn't be watching any of this. 23. Marjorie Prime (Michael Almereyda)- I like everything that this chamber piece specifies and everything that it decides to leave vague. The film is unsentimental, considering how sentimental this premise could be. It seems bent on reminding us, sometimes tragically, about how we shape our own memories until the original moment is gone in every way. I'll admit that it seems a little slight by the end, despite the weight suggested by what I just described. Even when it's surprising you, the film never writes in capital letters, and part of that feeling comes from bland visuals. But that's a small complaint for a film that is grappling so palpably with the challenges of authenticity in modern life.