Another year has come and gone, and as far as movies were concerned, 2014 was full of sharp divisions. I unashamedly adored the good pictures and despised the bad. Now, the debate rages in my mind: would I rather prefer a year of pretty good versus mediocre, or wonderful versus loathsome? Last year, I felt the good firmly outweighed the bad, and while I will "purge" myself of the stinkers in another list, today, I'd like to celebrate my favorite achievements and experiences from the last 12 months. A caveat to this list: I missed out on some commonly recognized films, such as "The Grand Budapest Hotel," "Under The Skin," "Snowpiercer," "Only Lovers Left Alive," and "The Theory Of Everything." I can't see every movie every year (believe me, I'm trying to), but as with all lists like these, you're getting a cross-section of the cinematic landscape curated through my limitations and sensibilities. So, without further ado, in the words of Heath Ledger's Joker, "Here we go."
10) Begin Again.
I deliberated between this film and "The Fault In Our Stars" (call that a #11 spot), but ultimately chose this for two reasons. The first is that of the two, "The Fault In Our Stars" is by far the more popular, garnered by favorable reviews, box office success, and pop culture relevancy. It's got its fair share of recognition already.
The second, and most important reason, is that "Begin Again" left me with the biggest gleeful grin on my face. As singer/songwriter Gretta (Keira Knightley) and producer Dan (Mark Ruffalo) record her city-spanning outdoor album (which sounds like a sweeter Norah Jones), I feel a childlike spontaneity and energy. Using pantyhose for a pop filter on a microphone, enlisting neighborhood kids for an impromptu chorus, carrying all the equipment from rooftop to alleyway to boat: these choices envelop in the process of making music for the joy it can bring. And these songs are joyful. They tell the story of people trying to make the best out of their worst, whether it be divorce, a break-up, or a lack of satisfaction with their efforts.
Ruffalo and Knightley share warm chemistry; James Corden and Cee Lo Green bring laughs in their supporting roles. "Begin Again" was a delight to experience, and definitely recommended as a heartwarming, happy picture.
9) Guardians of the Galaxy.
Okay, I'm gonna pitch this to you. Imagine a space epic based off of an obscure late 60's comic series. The cast is going to feature five misfits, the standout star being a giant humanoid tree that repeats only three words. The soundtrack? A blend of 70's pop, R&B, and rock. (Oh, by the way, an aside to Mr. Tarantino. You know that one song from "Reservoir Dogs"? It's ours now. Forever.) Doesn't this sound like the #1-grossing movie of the year? Well, it should, because it is.
"Guardians" is a testament to the golden rule of cinema: it doesn't matter how crazy or ludicrous an idea can be, as long as it's executed well, and damn, this film is a blast. It marries the spectacle of "Star Wars" and goofiness of Mel Brooks, and the match is made in heaven. Director-writer James Gunn gives his characters equal time to be pathetic, loving, spiteful, and loving in a manner that makes them more relatable. If the Avengers are the people you want to be saved by, the Guardians are people you want to dance with. Judging by its popularity, looks like Vin Diesel was right: "WE are Groot," and that's fine by me.
8) The LEGO Movie.
Talk about another surprise. I entered "The Lego Movie" with the least amount of anticipation. I, along with the naysayers, dismissed this film as another bland, uninspired studio project, meant to cash in on the brand. Who would've thought that eleven months later, I'd be saying this: "The Lego Movie" is the "Toy Story" of this generation. Yeah, I said it.
"The Lego Movie" revitalizes animation, specifically stop-motion. All the Youtube videos and White Stripes videos of the past have prepared us for this moment, and never has the use of the medium been so ambitious. As layers of blue bricks imitate ocean waves and throngs of yellow-headed people partake in synchronized dancing, my mouth drops to the floor, trying to make sense of the creative process, thinking of the hours spent designing, editing, and physically moving each piece to craft this Lego multi-verse.
If the film were just ambitious technically, it'd be one thing, but its comedy is never-ending in the same vein of "Airplane!" or "Hot Fuzz", movies that require more than one viewing and a need to search every spot of the frame to catch every joke. This movie is overwhelming, but never loses sight of its simplicity, which not only evens out the pace, but propels it to greatness. "The Lego Movie" doesn't simply tell a tale of good vs. evil, but one of balance: the balance of creativity and structure, innocence and wisdom, childhood and adulthood. It shows us the positives of each stage of our development as people, and teaches us that we need both frames of mind "working together in harmony" to succeed. In its effort and imagination, "The Lego Movie" crafts a tale that will span generations, certain to grow in importance as the years go by.
7) Her.
Part of me feels like I'm cheating for including this film, seeing as it won the Oscar for "Best Original Screenplay" for 2013, but its wide release was in January 2014, so I'm excited to include it for this year. What "Her" examines is the prospect of artificial intelligence's integration into society in the context of a love story. Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) are one of cinema's great odd couples: a man who feels the beauties of the world have gone gray and an artificial intelligence program whose wide-eyed innocence is enraptured by every experience in the world. However, their relationship develops just like it would between two people. It rises and falls; they share conversations about the mundane and the unfathomable; they laugh, making jokes using awful puns; they sing duets (a magic little lullaby entitled "The Moon Song".)
Director Spike Jonze takes this love story and pulls it in different directions, whether it be the solutions to problems that arise in this kind of human/AI relationship or the comparison of limited human understanding and the seemingly infinite expansion of artificial consciousness. It looks at the stigmas associated with this kind of interaction, as well as the evolution of AI from something as simple as Siri to as complex as a lover. This can leave the latter part of the film wandering a bit, but Jonze's earnestness to explore the possibilities is admirable, and serves as a thoughtful "what if" scenario developing from the current state of humanity's relationship with technology.
6) Interstellar.
I see "Her" and "Interstellar" as siblings, cut from the same cloth. They both desire to explore the possibilities of science fiction using its effect on society as an emotional anchor. However, there's a stark difference between Spike Jonze and Christopher Nolan. "Interstellar" stuns me primarily because of Nolan's direction, his scope. Really, there's no one in Hollywood whose sense of grandeur equips them with the skill set to push the boundaries of the visual medium in capturing the immensity and unpredictable nature of space. One could make the argument for last year's "Gravity", but its strength more lies in drawing the viewer into the astronaut's point of view, not so showing off the infinite magnitude of space. Nolan, along with director of photography Hoyte van Hoytema (who, coincidentally, worked on "Her"), choose breathtaking shots of galaxies, planets, and landscapes that stretch the screen similarly to "Lawrence of Arabia." Add in Hans Zimmer's haunting, at times disturbing, and colossal score, and the movie envelops its audience in this extraterrestrial environment.
However, I've found Christopher Nolan's movies to be hit-or-miss with me, and what I've determined to be the culprit is the characterization. The ambition and technical craftsmanship is always there, but I've noticed that his films I enjoy are bolstered by the performances. Heath Ledger's Joker in "The Dark Knight" takes the sprawling metropolis of Gotham City and shrinks it to the size of a bouncy ball; never does the camera deviate from his face and his performance elevates the script and film as a whole. I disagree with many on this next point, but I dislike "The Prestige" because I feel Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman's performances don't stand out over the underwritten, one-note characters. When there's no emotional anchor for me to relate to, I find I can respect the vision of the piece, but enjoy little, my reaction dropping to disinterest.
Thankfully, "Interstellar" follows in the same vein of the first example, in possibly my favorite marriage of performance and ambition of Nolan's work. Matthew McConaughey is a powerhouse: tenacious, curious, loving. He makes it easy for us to follow him to the edges of the universe, even past our comprehension of what we know. Anne Hathaway serves as a sobering counterweight to McConaughey's looseness, dedicated possibly moreso to the search for a habitable planet for us to call home.
I compare the film most often to "2001: A Space Odyssey", and with the same curious fervor for exploration, "Interstellar" ventures forth to discover new environments, dimensions, and states of being. It celebrates humanity's restlessness and its efforts to keep moving, often unsure of where the journey will lead us, but hopeful that there'll be something wonderful and awe-inspiring to find.
5) Gone Girl.
A husband searches for his missing wife. From such a simple idea comes one of the more adept thrillers I've seen in years. "Gone Girl" is wound like a watch, meticulous and sharp, thanks to David Fincher's direction and Gillian Flynn's screenplay. (Just goes to show you what happens when you let the author of a novel adapt her own work. Novel idea, right?)
"Gone Girl's" intrigue comes from its pace. Looking back, there are points in the film where it could end and I'd be satisfied by the answer, but like a wind-up car, the movie pushes on, disregarding traditional mystery narrative and ending on its terms. Like "Her", the story stretches into different tangents, at times satirizing the romanticized media frenzy of criminals, and at others, looking at the nature of perspective and how one can alter their opinion towards another at the drop of a dime.
But with all this jammed into 149 minutes, I could follow the movie for 149 minutes more. An all-star cast (Ben Affleck, Neil Patrick Harris, and an underrated Carrie Coon) leads the way. Exalted by a jaw-dropping performance from Rosamund Pike (a Best Actress nomination is all but certain), "Gone Girl" chalks another success up to David Fincher's name.
4) Whiplash.
I'm gonna brag a bit. While watching "21 & Over," I noted Miles Teller's slightly sarcastic, sharp-tongued, but endearing charisma, leaned over to my best friend and said, "I think this guy is going to be the next big thing." Ladies and gentlemen, let me indulge in my psuedo-comment war and say "FIRST." Miles Teller's rise as a leading man, starting with "The Spectacular Now," "Divergent", and "That Awkward Moment", culminates in his career best in Damien Chazelle's "Whiplash," the tale of an aspiring jazz drummer (Teller) pushed to the brink by his sadistic teacher (J.K. Simmons) to be in all senses of the word, perfect.
"Whiplash" is Chazelle's debut, and already he shows an adept gift for atmosphere, pacing, and sharp dialogue. He keeps the film nail-bitingly tense, but never for too long, releasing some of the pressure with a little humor or romantic subplot before raising the stakes and madness even further than we previously thought expected. I'd normally feel silly defining a jazz movie as a "thriller," but as I watch "Whiplash", I feel a constant uneasiness in my gut, resembling a horror movie where you know the worst is yet to come, but you don't know when.
This fear is manifested in J.K. Simmons' Terrence Fletcher, a psychotic man who rules his ensemble with a dictator's iron fist. Simmons gives this character an overbearing presence, from his demeanor to his mastery of manipulation. He's a ticking time bomb, and as I sit, I wait to see what possible thing could set him off into a frenzy of expletive mania. What's scarier is that Chazelle allows you to see his point of view, and to a degree, we can empathize, driven by a subconscious desire for greatness. Simmons is this year's frontrunner for Best Supporting Actor and I would be surprised if he doesn't clinch the Oscar.
However, let's not forget Miles Teller, whose Andrew begins to adopt Fletcher's insanity as his stubbornness rivals his teacher's in a demand to not only destroy his teacher's expectations, but his own. Andrew's blood is literally left all over the drumset, as a sacrifice to his chosen craft. We see through Andrew's eyes how an obsession with excellence can derail one's sanity, and in an explosive finale, we see the product of such a battle. Needless to say, I, along with the rest of the theater was breathless. This may not be the kind of bait the Academy looks for, but this is the kind of movie that we will never forget.
3) Boyhood.
Much of the talk around Richard Linklater's "Boyhood" is in relation to its 12-year production, starting in the summer of 2002 and ending in the fall of 2013. The film sees the same family, Mason (Ellar Coltrane), his father Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke), mother Olivia (Patricia Arquette), and sister Samantha (Lorelei Linklater), through those twelve years of development as Mason grows from a first-grader to a college freshman.
One can't talk about "Boyhood" without referencing its real-life timespan, but to stop there does the film a disservice. Anyone can make a nearly three-hour movie with film collected over twelve years. Where "Boyhood" excels is in Linklater's ability to cherry-pick pieces of my life, your life, your parents' lives, and pull the same emotional weight out of each moment. Do you remember fighting with your siblings over car space? What about the moment your dad explained to you what birth control was? Do you remember how embarrassed and grossed out you were? Were you, (and ARE you really) aware of how much Mom did for you?
"Boyhood" brings these moments out to the forefront, celebrates them, whether good or bad, as pieces that guide us through lessons of life. By the end, these people are family; we're protective, proud, and happy to see them grow wiser, stronger, more thoughtful. But in no way does "Boyhood" wrap it all in a bow and "happily ever after". It would've missed the point if it did. We don't seize the moment, the moment seizes us. We never stop growing, learning, or changing. We're molded by time and experience, and if we've done it all right, in the end, we're molded for the better.
2) Birdman.
This is easily the most pathetic selection on the list. "Birdman's" characters are pathetic; they're losers. They're pretentious, naive, angry, and desperate. But aren't we all? Director Alejandro González Iñárritu expresses that "we all have a Birdman", the belittling voice in our head. It says we're not good enough; it's never satisfied with our efforts: our own little Terrence Fletcher, if you will.
Riggan Thomson's (Michael Keaton) voice takes wing as Birdman, a character he used to play in a popular superhero franchise. After declining to do the fourth movie and seeing his popularity decline over the years, Riggan tries to write, star and direct in a Broadway adaptation of "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love," in a bid to reclaim his star power. All throughout the film, Riggan comes across opposition including a pretentious actor (Edward Norton), a spiteful critic (Lindsey Duncan), and Birdman himself, who spends the movie persuading Riggan to don the costume one more time.
"Birdman's" characters are driven by applause, almost to total madness. They look to others for validation in their efforts, and their audience is coping with a society whose connection with the Internet and the virtual is growing. As a response, people, fearful of losing tangibility, consistently ask if something is "real." Are the effects real? Are the actors actually doing what is shown on stage?
Edward Norton's character, in a scene with Naomi Watts, suggests that while they're performing a scene as lovers in bed, they should actually have sex, to achieve maximum artistic potential. The line's funny, but this leads to my question "Birdman" implies: what is this artistic zenith? Does it matter if we achieve it; why can't we be happy that our effort pleases us? Riggan's daughter (Emma Stone), in a rage towards her father, brings up that because he's not on Twitter, or with the flow of technology, it's as if he doesn't exist. With society's growing interaction with technology, and technology's ability to tie us closer together, it's as if we can't be left alone anymore. Other individuals need to talk about a play or a movie or book for it to gain tangibility, to gain worth.
"Birdman" deals with the psychological impact of a virtual society blended with ego, and one man's search for some comfort and peace in himself. Through a tautly edited, fantastically acted work, Iñárritu has managed to wake us up from our cell phones, and think about how we deal with ourselves and the others around us.
1) Locke.
Catch me at the right time, and I would call "Birdman" my favorite movie of the year. However, after revisiting Steven Knight's "Locke," I'm utterly stunned by how much it achieves with so little. On the night before the most important day of his career, with wife and sons waiting at home to watch an anticipated soccer match, Ivan Locke (Tom Hardy) decides to instead drive to London, in a move that will upheave his entire life.
The entire movie is shot inside Locke's car, the interactions with his family, friends, and coworkers taking place on a car speakerphone. The film is intimate, as if we're sitting in the backseat, completely immersed (and soon after, completely versed), in all the doings of his life. Locke, strained from this juggling act of trying to keep everything afloat, is laid bare and broken, even to the point of physical sickness. Trapped in his car, his thoughts wander, go on tangents, burdened by stress, we see the psychological damage in real time: hard to watch, but oddly familiar.
As the movie ends, the camera rises to show all the cars on the highway, and suddenly it dawns on me. When we drive in our cars with the windows up, either blaring the radio, picking our noses, or letting the stress of our lives wash over us with tears, we enter our own little world, where for the length of a car ride, we can be set free, left to our own devices to process everything life throws at us. But what Knight reminds us with this last shot is that like Locke, we may not be perfect; hell, we may be awful people. But we're all trying to do the right thing. We're trying to be better. The process is difficult, almost unbearable at times, and we may leave some loose ends frayed beyond repair. But we keep on trying, cause in the end, that's all one can ask for.
"Locke" features Hardy's strongest performance, a stellar supporting cast (all voice-overs), and impactful writing from director Steven Knight. It is a gem, and I am proud to name it my favorite movie of 2014.
DANIEL'S NOTE:
A million and twenty thanks to each and every one of you reading my reviews, whether past or present. I can't believe it's been more than a year since I've started this blog; it's an absolute joy exploring how cinema's influence, whether it be to remind us of the virtues of life, take us to fantastic worlds, challenge our perceptions, bring us to tears, or simply make us smile. I hope that 2015 exceeds any expectations, bringing us groundbreaking stories, moving performances, and stellar works of human expression. And hopefully, I'll be sitting in that comfy chair, nestling a popcorn bucket in my arms, letting the movies do their magic. So along with this year of 2014, the Man Without A Plan is signing off.
