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Photo of the Day: November 27, 2009
While the week between Christmas and New Year's is far from a dead zone for movies, most of the new fare that's going to be brought out before year's end has already come out, and those that the studios did save for Christmas day release look wholly uninteresting, from sequels to films that were horrible missteps to begin with, to overly earnest inspirational fare. Instead, we'll join the living in the past bandwagon and revisit our favorite big screen experiences of the past year. Much as we wouldn't mind going to the movies every day, life and work have an annoying habit of limiting just how much time can be spent in a darkened theater. Which, of course, means that it is (as always) highly subjective and hardly comprehensive. And don't let our failure to provide picks this week keep you out of the theater. In addition to all the great and funny stuff that's been coming out in recent weeks, the AFI's Rialto series continues with one of history's best heist movies, Rififi, and starts a Wes Anderson retrospective. And, there's a special midnight preview of P.T. Anderson's latest, There Will Be Blood, at Georgetown on Saturday. As of this writing, tickets are still available.
Our top ten for the year:
- No Country for Old Men: The Coen brothers' latest isn't really a return to form at all. Because they've never been quite as good as this. Few literary adaptations bear the stamp of their author quite as much as No Country does in its visual manifestation of Cormac McCarthy's lean and devastating prose. Fewer movies still are willing to take the chances the Coens do here, leaving the movie eerily quiet without a musical soundtrack, and leaving much of its narrative threads jarringly unresolved. Javier Bardem creates a psychopath for the ages, and Tommy Lee Jones delivers the monologue of his career to end the movie with an elegant yet devastating whimper.
- This is England: While it follows the basic template of punks-gone-bad tales from Suburbia to Romper Stomper, Shane Meadows' autobiographical tale of growing up as a skinhead in the grim, racially charged, and economically depressed early days of 1980s Britain hits harder than similar movies. Part of that could be its pitch-perfect soundtrack of classic punk and ska, with particular attention paid to the great Toots and the Maytals. Part also is the nuanced look at the clash between racist and non-racist skins as British nationalism boils over into violence that divides former friends. Mostly though, it's Meadow's personal perspective, as he makes audiences see through his own eyes, via a stunning performance by 13-year-old Thomas Turgoose as his young alter-ego.
- I'm Not There: Five actors, none of whom actually play Bob Dylan, somehow fit together to create a more accurate picture of the cultural shape shifter than any straightforward biopic ever could. Todd Haynes' film is the most daring of the year, risking the alienation of audiences (and succeeding on that front much of the time) through a wholly deconstructed and impressionistic narrative that is as much about channeling the filmmakers and culture of the 60s as it is about the elusive Dylan himself.
Michael Clayton: Clooney has never been better than in this gripping legal drama about a down and on-his-way-out lawyer trying to hang on to a life that seems to be spiralling out of his control. First time director Tony Gilroy's understated script echoes the quiet subtley of 70s political thrillers, and its muted colors and gloomy mood seem to reflect Clayton's sad-eyed desperation. The twists and turns of a sometimes overly complex plot are held firmly in place by Clooney, who buries the charm that is often his stock and trade in favor of an exhausted and largely internally focused performance. 
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Favorite Moviegoing moment of the year: Wait Until Dark, Screen on the Green
The one thing that stands out in my memory of movie-going for the year had nothing to do with the excellent newer films. That moment happened during the summer screening of this Audrey Hepburn classic. The movie itself is still fantastic, despite some slightly over-the-top melodrama from Hepburn ("Do I have to be the world's champion blind lady?"). And anytime you can lay out on the mall on a warm summer night and watch a great old movie is a night well spent. But this particular screening highlighted what's so great about movies in the theatre vs. movies at home: the communal experience of seeing a film, and sharing common emotions with a large crowd. This experience is the best argument I know against the exaggerated reports of the theater's imminent demise at the hand of movies on demand. **SPOILER ALERT** Near the end of the film, which takes place mostly in the dark as the film's blind heroine turns out the lights in order to level the playing field between her and the thugs who are after her, after a particularly tense moment, Alan Arkin jumps out of the shadows after Hepburn, completely unexpected. From a vantage point near the back of the large mass of people gathered on the Mall that night, it looked as if a sudden earthquake had hit, as half the crowd jumped in surprise. This was followed by a murmur of the nervous laughter that usually piggybacks on public displays of fright. For just a moment, scores of people all at once were experiencing the same rush of emotion, the same adrenaline boost. It was a fun reminder of why it is that a comfy couch and a big HDTV will still never quite replace a crowded theater. I look forward to more of the same for 2008.
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