2002: The Best-of List that Breaks all the Rules

When I started E-mailing out my year-end top-ten lists back in 1997, my choices were culled largely from the videos I'd get free via Eastern Illinois University's InterLibrary Loan service, which meant the lists were inevitably skewed toward older cinematic fare. It was predictably difficult to stay cutting-edge while trapped back in Charleston, Illinois, so I resigned myself to an historical exploration of all world cinema had to offer on VHS. It was an invaluable gestation period for expanding my repertoire, but as cinema is a popular culture phenomenon as well as a century-old medium of artistic expression, I understood I was missing a big chunk of the equation when I'd announce that Powell & Pressburger's 1943 The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp was among the best films of the year. Thanks for sharing Alan, but the clerk at Blockbuster has no idea what you're talking about.

Upon finally emigrating to the People's Republic of Ann Arbor, I was well-versed in the classics, but so out of touch with recent contemporary product that I tabbed Terence Malick's inscrutable The Thin Red Line to win Best Picture in an informal but expensive Oscar® prediction contest against my best friend at work. Thus in defeat came the understanding of what sort of commitment was necessary if anyone was to take my film endorsements seriously, and luckily my new locale was suited to the task, as there is no shortage of movie houses in southeast Michigan. If I still entertained the dream of writing to a large audience about film, it was time to start patronizing the multiplexes, the art theaters, the repertory houses more than a little regularly.

Ann Arbor's highly idiosyncratic independent video stores were no less equipped for feeding one's incurable cinephilia, however, and my historical surveys continued apace. I'd finally subscribed to Facets' rental-by-mail service as well, enabling me to experience the seriously obscure and marginal in between the latest Julia Roberts or Jackie Chan releases. So my artistic education traveled in two directions, both forwards and backwards, allowing for two year-end compliations: the brand-new ("film") and the less-new ("video"). Such a distinction, I hoped, would give my friends ample suggestions when at either the theater or the video/DVD lending establishment. (Oh, and I've kicked the aforementioned colleague's heinie the past two years at the Oscars®. Ha!)

No system is perfect, though, and flaws started appearing the more my filmgoing desires were indulged. What about the restored prints of classic films that are regularly screened at the Detroit Institute of the Arts (DIA), like Klimov's shattering 1985 Soviet masterwork Come and See, or Pontecorvo's 1956 The Wide Blue Road? What about the retrospective of Koji Yakusho ("Japan's Leading Man") films shown by the University of Michigan's Center for Japanese Studies last fall, all made within the last decade but unavailable on video in the USA? What about when the historic Redford Theater shows Rocky on the big screen over the July fourth weekend? What about the new IMAX versions of Beauty and the Beast or Apollo 13, neither of which I'd seen during their regular theatrical releases? To which category do these cinematic experiences belong? (And more importantly, does Alan have waaaaaaay too much free time on his hands if he's agonizing over something like this?)

Called into question is to what degree an annual "best films" list should realistically reflect the range of films the average moviegoer is likely to have access to at that time. To strictly abide by the rule that eligible films can only be released within the previous calendar year is nearly impossible, as exemplified by the professional critics' 2002 lists you're already seeing: The Hours? Adaptation? Chicago? Talk To Her? The Pianist? In 95% of the country these films won't be seen until 2003, but they're given limited release on the two coasts (sometimes for only a week or even just a day!) to qualify for Oscar® consideration, and journalists lucky enough to catch a glimpse make lists like mine seem instantly obsolete. If the professional film pundits are a bit too forward-thinking, surely an amateur can be justified in loosening his standards to cover those exceptional films left behind.

Which is all to explain the convoluted reasoning behind my two lists for 2002. I am choosing to err on the side of being overly-inclusive, so that you are made aware of what gems are truly out there in various forms, but an absolute distinction will be made, in this case the mode of exhibition. One list details the best films seen projected theatrically onto the big screen, regardless of year of production; the other, films seen on a TV screen by means of the VCR or DVD player or simple cable broadcast, which would suggest largely older releases. Since the two modes mostly use different viewing aspect ratios, it can be safe to argue that I am differentiating between two different types of motion picture experiences. If that sounds good to you as well, then without further verbiage I present the films that blew my mind in one way or another in Y2K2, and that you should by no means avoid:

[Okay, just a little more verbiage. Please note that these lists are not ranked, so all films should be considered equally amazing. Additionally, both lists exceed the traditional ten-point count, just because.]

2002's BEST THEATRICAL SCREENINGS

1. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
If you don't know what this film's about, you're more out of touch with reality than I am. All you need know is this film represents the quintessence of the Magic of the Movies, writ large. Even the opening ten-minute battle sequence totally kicked my ass, and could've been its own movie. And this is only the beginning of the series, woo hoo!

2. The Heart of the World (2000)
The DIA held a Guy Maddin retrospective last summer, and showed this short film of his before each feature. It turned out to be the best of all his creations! Essentially a spooky spoof of silent film trailers, Maddin revealed himself to be a master not only of his individual style, but of styles long past. Brilliance compacted into five hyperkinetic minutes.

3. The Last Waltz (1978/2002)
Martin Scorcese's documentary of The Band's legendary 1976 farewell concert is given a refurbished re-release, featuring a gathering of musical virtuosi unlike any other. Neil Young, Dr. John, Emmylou Harris, Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton….a testament to what's good about America: rock and roll. (Okay, so some of those performers I named are Canadian or British. You know what I mean.) I fell in love with this movie so much, I bought the $60 CD boxed set of the soundtrack. How completely depressing that our music today doesn't hold a candle to this.

4. It (1927)
This was by no means Clara Bow's first role, but it's her defining one - exemplifying her trademark flapper vivaciousness, that "it" the film defines (in an issue of Cosmo, no less - the mag's been around that long?) as "that quality possessed by some which draws all others with its magnetic force." Bow is a revelation, an absolute dynamo, and all without sound.

5. Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner (2001)
Okay, this is not an easy film - the guy in front of me slept through half of it, and at three hours long, all in Inuit with subtitles, one can hardly blame him. But this recreation of an ancient Eskimo legend is like an arctic Lord of the Rings, with a much tinier budget: featuring the forces of good versus evil, performed by natives in period costumes, this is a one of a kind piece of ethnography. With fantastic blinding northern landscapes, superior acting, and an astonishing volume of raw meat consumed by the cast, your patience will be rewarded.

6. Metropolis (1927)
It seems 1927 was a good year for movies. Historians have issued what they're calling the definitive version of this oft-recut German sci-fi classic, combining all surviving elements in an attempt to approximate the version at its premiere. Approximately one-quarter of the footage is considered lost, replaced here with explanatory intertitles. If I'm this wowed by the restored print's cinematography, I can only imagine how its first audiences reacted 75 years ago. Its spectacle quotient rivaling that of The Matrix, this silent (!) epic integrates Teutonic myth with futuristic fantasy, and director Fritz Lang must have worked his set crew to their deaths building the eponymous setting. If you're as lucky as me, you can experience it with live organ accompaniment. Priceless.

7. The Lady and The Duke (2001)
A Francophile Scotswoman (Lucy Russell, whose fluid French makes me sound like a Neanderthal), trapped in Paris during the Revolution, gradually learns her sympathy for the royals may be a liability. A scathing critique of the Republic's founders, in which the nobility are cast as martyrs, and those newly in power behave no better than the Gestapo. This film isn't for everyone, as it consists mostly of chamber pieces long on French dialogue, but you'll be surprised at what director Eric Rohmer can do with digital video and painted backdrops, all the while educating us with a new take on world history.

8. Spirited Away (2001)
Another Japanese cartoon by the creators of the equally-mesmerizing Princess Mononoke, this visual feast finds a young girl thrown into a universe she, and we, barely understand. (It seems the spirits of nature like to take baths a lot, and little Jihiro is conscripted to work their bathhouse. Don't ask.) Animation can break all the rules of time and space, and this film does just that. The ultimate effect: a neverending sense of wonder, and the Silver Bear at the Venice Film Festival. Limitless creativity, and a palpable sense of threat. Parents be warned, this ain't no Disney movie. (Oh yeah, and dragons are COOL.)

9. Heaven (2002)
Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi on the lam, in love, looking like Sinead O'Connor, speaking perfect Italian; it's all somehow a recipe for ecstatic romance, and German director Tom Tykwer pays perfect tribute to deceased scripter Krzysztof Kieslowski's transcendent style with this rapturous display of pure cinema. Is Italy really this beautiful?

10. [A four-way tie between]
Lola (1961): Another restored classic, this one a gossamer-light French seaside tale with Anouk Aimee waiting for her prince to come. Sigh……
Gosford Park (2001): Altman's tour de force of ensemble acting and poignant analysis of social hierarchies. Oscars® to everyone - I wish.
Matewan (1987): John Sayles' flawless dramatization of an actual 1920's unionization dispute among West Virginia miners. The topic gets no less controversial with age.
Kiss Me, Stupid (1964): A Hollywood sex farce fighting against the constraints of an anachronistic Hays code of conduct. A mainstream feature film that tries to make okay prostituting your wife to get a career break. Try not to think about it too much, and enjoy the endless stream of brilliant dialogue between Melvyn Douglas, Kim Novak, and Dean Martin.

2002's BEST VIDEO SCREENINGS

[This is divided into two lists: six works of perfection, and seven of near-perfection.]

1. Les Enfants du Paradis (1945)
I saw this back in film school, and didn't see what the big deal was. Ten years later, I fell in love with it. Everything that is good about classic French cinema: endless romantic longing, flawed but noble protagonists, an uncynical belief in the powers of art, and, of course, mimes. Absolute perfection - and all filmed during the Nazi occupation, no less.

2. The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)
The USA and the USSR conduct near-simultaneous A-bomb tests on opposite sides of the world, knocking the planet out of its orbit and floating towards the sun. Eschewing cheeseball special effects and focusing instead on the personal dramas that erupt in the face of impending doom, this sci-fi thriller shows London journalists slowly piecing the global warming phenomena together and figuring out what it all portends. (1998's equally harrowing disaster pic Deep Impact must have taken a page from this oft-ignored masterwork by keeping the story at a human level.) A brilliant anti-nuclear cautionary tale that never loses its step, and a plausible scenario with chilling implications; even if all the nations can work together and halt the Earth's drift, we're still permanently stuck closer to the sun. Send copies to North Korea!

3. Code Inconnu (2000)
Or, "Incomplete Tales of Several Journeys." Skip the overhyped The Piano Teacher, this is the Michael Haneke film to see. A series of isolated single takes, all interrupted prematurely, following several characters throughout the new ethnically diverse Fortress Europa. Haneke gets his points across as much by what he leaves out of the frame as what he leaves in. Beautifully intense, and persistently moral. Most disturbing moment of deracination: a black teenager, born in Paris, asks her older brother where Africa is.

4. The Boyfriend (1971)
"Kenneth Russell's Talking Picture!" Whoever suggested Russell should try his hand at a musical must've been on crack - and thank goodness for that. A talented but under-resourced British musical theater troupe performs for meager audiences, and we are privileged to witness the sort of show they fantasize it could be. The constant stream of visual playfulness, hyperbole, humor, and extreme close-ups is exhausting; fans of last year's Moulin Rouge will get a kick out of this trippy production. And who'd'a thunk it - Twiggy has talent!

5. Bande à Part (1964)
A healthy dose of Godard every now and then is always a good thing - his earlier works especially, when he still had a sense of humor. A restored print of this film, loosely translated as "Band of Outsiders," made the art theater rounds earlier this year, but I missed its Detroit appearance, so I had to settle for a badly-faded video copy instead. You'll be bored to tears if you approach this as anything other than a comedy; Godard's inept wanna-be thieves spend 90% of the film trying to figure out how to arrange a heist of a suburban Paris family's assets, with interludes at an English class, dancing in a café, and competing for the affections of Anna Karina. Once again, it's more the How of Godard's presentation than the What of the content that entertains, with a blithe narrator regularly informing you of the most irrelevant aspects of the story.

6. Toy Story 2 (1999)
Word had it this was the rare sequel that bettered its predecessor, and gosh darn it, it's better than most anything out there. It's possible I got such a kick from it because the protagonists suffer identity crises concerning whether they're playthings or collectibles (anyone seen my action figure collection?), but more likely I was mesmerized by a hysterical script that doesn't let up for a minute, the animators' attention to the minutest details of movement and expression that keep your eyes busy from start to finish, and the deft vocal characterizations by a enormously talented cast for even the least significant characters. If you kept passing on this one at the video store like I did, assuming it's just lightweight family entertainment, then you're as wrong as I was. The ending credits even feature a faux bloopers reel showing the animated characters flubbing their lines or tripping over the sets - diapers are recommended, you'll laugh so hard.

[And the runners-up:]

7. Reds (1981): Warren Beatty can be deep, too!
8. Grand Hotel (1932): Garbo wants to be left alone, again…but if she were, would there be a movie?
9. Volga-Volga (1938): I kid you not, a Soviet Union musical.
10. The Trouble With Angels (1966): Nuns, nuns, nuns!
11. HUD (1963): A fearless Paul Newman plays unrepentant, uncivilized, unregenerate.
12. That's Entertainment! (1974): MGM musical numbers, minus the inane plots!
13. L.I.E. (2001): Like Happiness, a completely unnerving film that makes a pedophile sympathetic; also like that film, it shows that there are brilliant films that pretty much no one should see.

The moral of the story? Just like a music lover can watch MTV or attend the symphony, film fans can mine a rich historical tradition and also stay abreast of current trends. I'm not saying one is better than the other; but be aware that you have more choices than you could imagine. (Dare I mention how funny Pootie Tang was? Sa da tay!)

Happy New Year, and let me know what you liked this year. No such thing as too many critics.