2008 began with a shaky-cam monster movie (you forgot about Cloverfield didn’t you?) and is ending with the usual crop of Oscar-baiting prestige films (and Valkyrie). And in between…there was The Dark Knight (and, even bigger, the Dark Knight hype). So how good a year was 2008 at the cinema? Not nearly as good as 2007. But there were still some pretty memorable pieces of work…from a scathing assault on religious silliness to a tale of a washed-up rassler with a thing for strippers and cheesy ’80s rock to, well, The Dark Knight.
And now one last review of the stuff that thrilled, tickled and terrified us (or, at least, me) in 2008*:
1. Religulous (Larry Charles)
Snarkmaster Bill Maher uses humor and pointed questioning (the same one-two punch he brings to his terrific show Real Time) to expose the illogic of religion. Well, okay, exposing the illogic of religion…that’s sort of like exposing the fatness of John Goodman or the lameness of John Mayer. Not a tasker. But Maher’s point sinks in nonetheless: The faithful often have no idea what they’re really investing their faith in, and that’s kinda scary (especially when they have bombs and the book is telling them to kill). Maher barely has to break a sweat in tearing down most of his opponents, who range from an incoherent Muslim rapper to a blinged-out preacher to a maker of looney contraptions for those observant Jews who still want to use the phone on the Sabbath. Godless heathens snicker and nod at each other. Maher’s secret weapon is director Larry Charles who has a little genius for assembling the material in a way that amplifies the meaning (maybe he should’ve gotten more kudos for Borat). The year’s most hilarious, troubling, inappropriately entertaining movie.
2. 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days… (Cristian Mungiu)
Watching this is like mainlining depression, but its brilliance is undeniable. Mungiu considers a young, naïve college student who seeks an illegal abortion, and the friend who risks her own freedom to help her (now that’s a friend). The camera gazes upon this bleak reality with an unflinchingness that is both heroic and deeply unnerving. Mungiu almost makes us long for the sentimental contrivances of Hollywood – anything to protect us from the grim truths he is laying bare. Ickiest abortion scene since Alfie (not the Jude Law one). And just incidentally…does the sun ever shine in Eastern Europe?
3. The Visitor (Thomas McCarthy)
An emotionally paralyzed college professor becomes involved in the lives of a pair of imperiled immigrants in post-9/11 New York. The film seems glum, almost affectedly so, at first, but by the end it feels soulful and genuine as can be. Considerations of the collective experience are normally much more contrived and irritating (think Crash); this is a quiet, subtly devastating film and not a showy, star-studded hype-machine (again, think Crash). Richard Jenkins gives one of the year’s great performances as a man proceeding methodically from indifference to compassion to outrage to calm awareness, and finding solace in his new-found affection for beating on a drum in the park. We are all in this together – just not in a Crash sort of way.
4. The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky)
Mickey Rourke? In one of the great performances of recent times? The only thing more shocking – and yes, Rourke really is that good – is Darren Aronofsky shedding his expressionist pretensions (I’ll never forgive the ghostly doughnuts he rained on Ellen Burstyn) and getting down to real filmmaking. But back to Rourke…man, what did that guy do to his face? Deformed, inexpressive features are normally a detriment to an actor, but they serve Rourke perfectly in his portrayal of a washed-up pro wrestler who can’t choreograph his life quite as well as his matches (or really smile anymore, not that he has much to smile about). Rourke is ravaged yet vain, bull-like yet diffident, and never lovable (or pretty). The film’s arc is predictable as hell but Aronofsky hangs so many ripely garish, beautifully detailed moments on it that it almost seems original.
5. Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson)
I personally was not waiting for someone to marry Scandanavian angst to vampire angst, but now that I’ve seen it done, I’m grateful to Tomas Alfredson for conceiving of the idea. His movie is much more than just a snowy, brooding, at times savage horror film though: It’s a touching examination of adolescent alienation and the ties that bind the lonely (including Rubix cubes and a mutual disdain for asshole middle schoolers). The themes have all been dealt with via vampire myth before – insatiable blood-lust as metaphor and forbidden love and the despair of the outcast – but never with so much psychological specificity and naturalistic kick. Underworld was always lame but now it seems woefully outdated too.
6. Milk (Gus Van Sant)
On the surface, a completely run-of-the-mill biopic. Paint-by-numbers. Actually, it’s that way under the surface too…but there’s life running through the cliches thanks to Gus Van Sant, who has made his most passionate, confident film probably ever. The familiar movements don’t bother you because they’re taking you somewhere – right into the heart of gay civic resolve, and sometimes anger, as embodied by slain politician and activist Harvey Milk, who is vividly brought to life by Sean Penn. Formally a bit clunky but full of real feeling and solid characterizations. And Emile Hirsch is so cute I could just die.
7. In Bruges (Martin McDonagh)
An odd little riff on male bonding, the charm of Old Europe, conspiracy-theory-spewing midgets and Ralph Fiennes trying to out-British-bad-ass Ben Kingsley. Oh, and Colin Ferrell approaching possibly the peak of his roguish, eyebrow-manipulating, slightly infantile allure as a guilt-ridden hitman who doesn’t give a fuck about the charm of Old Europe. It’s fun sometimes to watch a film that feels unburdened by narrative effort and simply breezes by on cool-jazzy tone, odd-ball characterization and kooky incident…and Colin Ferrell’s eyebrows (which I believe I already mentioned).
8. The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan)
The plot’s a muddle. Heath Ledger’s anarcho-terrorist cross-dresser Joker is sprinkled a little too sparsely about the story…and is it possible that Heath’s over-the-top antics don’t seem as mind-blowing the second time? Oh, and there’s Christian Bale’s low, raspy, sub-Selma Diamond Batman voice, the WTF? move of the year (outside of Indiana Jones and the fridge). There’s a lot to object to, let’s face it…but the sheer force of Christopher Nolan’s vision – retro in its under-use of CGI but seemingly ahead of its time in thundering action prowess wedded to a soaring-if-sometimes-cheesy sense of melodrama – plows through them all. And I don’t care what anyone says – Maggie Gyllenhaal is damn sexy.
9. Slumdog Millionaire (Danny Boyle)
If M.I.A. hadn’t already made Paper Planes, she would’ve had to record it for this movie, Danny Boyle’s almost indecently exuberant tribute to the hardships of being a street-urchin-turned-call-center-gofer in Bombay/Mumbai. Okay, so maybe Boyle doesn’t ultimately say that much about the human struggle, and maybe the whole thing is just a little too Bollywood-vibrant for its own good…and maybe building an entire story around a guy trying to win on the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? isn’t the hottest idea ever? But screw it…bathing in filth, pining for your facially-scarred true love and being threatened with losing your eyes the better to earn as a singing beggar were never more, um, fun?
10. Mongol (Sergei Bodrov)
If you thought Genghis Khan was nothing but some mean guy who went around killing and conquering on horseback…think again. He also had sex with hotties, frolicked with his children (when he wasn’t off killing and conquering on horseback) and united his people (much like Shaka Zulu – yes I just enjoy saying “Shaka Zulu”). His childhood also wasn’t so hot. You thought it was awful when your dad yelled at you…imagine spending your formative years with your head in stocks, after your father croaked and left you alone to face your enemies and hopefully fulfill your destiny as savior of your tribe. Could suck, right?
Honorable Mention – With Minor Objections Where Applicable:
The Bank Job – All heist films should be this rocking. And they should all have Saffron Burrows in them.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – Okay, I got it – I’m mortal. How much money did Brad Pitt get paid to sit there letting the make-up and CGI do all the work?
Man on Wire – Crazy bastard remembers wire-walking between Twin Towers. Filmmaker reminds us of 9/11 without ever reminding us of 9/11. French people are still smug as hell.
Wanted – The year’s most crazily detailed, trippy action sequences. And the story? I still don’t know what the hell that was about.
Cloverfield – I hope Philadelphia gets it next time. Or Dallas. Or Topeka. Anywhere but New York (now New York knows how Tokyo feels).
Frost/Nixon – Ron Howard is always just good enough to keep your attention but never quite good enough to make you think you’re seeing something great. Frank Langella is so good, he actually had me thinking I was watching Dan Hedaya.
Revolutionary Road - Liked it better when it was called Mad Men. Kate Winslet can have her Oscar as far as I’m concerned.
The Edge of Heaven – Here’s a name to remember: Nurgül Yesilçay. Okay, forget about remembering it. Just take my word for it – she’s hot.
Sukiyaki Western Django – Quentin Tarantino proves he can’t act in crazy eye-popping gory Japanese Westerns either. I hope Inglourious Basterds doesn’t suck as bad as Death Proof.
Iron Man – Robert Downey, Jr. makes being a superhero’s alter ego cooler and sexier than being a superhero.
The Ruins – The year’s finest “Let’s Watch Pretty, Shallow People Get Killed One at a Time” exercise.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona – You almost see Scarlett’s boobs! I thought Javier Bardem was going to kill Penelope Cruz with an airgun, then I remembered it wasn’t No Country for Old Men.
*=No, I have not seen Wall*E. Please don’t tell me how great it is. I’ll see it when I see it, if I see it.
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