It is a universal truth that people love lists…or at least I imagine it is because I love them so passionately. And yet, it is equally true that any top ten list is doomed to be incomplete. Most people, myself included, do not have the time, money, or inclination to watch every new movie that comes out. So, it is necessary to have some sort of method for choosing what to see and what to skip. In deciding which films I would watch this year, I relied on word of mouth and critical consensus…or at least I like to pretend that I did. (In the end, most of my decisions were determined by what was actually playing in Sierra Vista. It’s a sad fact that unless you live in New York City or Los Angeles, you are at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to film-going). So, I would like to preface my “Best of 2005” list with a confession: there are several films that might have had a shot at showing up on this list if I had seen them. Noah Baumbach’s film The Squid and the Whale is supposed to be tremendous; the film Capote, starring Philip Seymour-Hoffman, has received almost universal acclaim; and George Clooney’s latest directorial outing, Good Night, and Good Luck, looks absolutely gorgeous. None of these movies played the circuit in Sierra Vista, so my advice is that you see them when they come to video…I hear they are very good. I’ve heard a lot of good things about March of the Penguins too, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit through Morgan Freeman narrating a parable about the sanctity of marriage.
Having said all of that, I’m quite happy with my list. 2005 was a banner year for film, and I think that all of these pictures are worthy of recognition. In some cases, I found it impossible to make a decision. Of course, there is no objective standard for evaluating which films are “the best.” The whole thing is just an excuse to talk about movies, and I have almost six-hundred words worth of space left, so without further ado:
The 10 (plus 3 or 4) Best Movies of 2005
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A History of Violence – In addition to working on a purely surface level as an action film, this is a poignant examination of Americana and the violent and primitive urges that lurk beneath its surface. In his last few films, Cronenberg has experienced tremendous growth as a director. Here he appears to be at the peak of his artistic powers. This film contains all of Cronenberg’s signature elements; it relentlessly seeks to comprehend and categorize the relationship between sex and violence. Remarkably, it also displays traits that I have never associated with Cronenberg; it sports a lovely sense of humor and adopts a compassionate and even redemptive stance toward its characters. Cronenberg the venereal horror shock artist was an important filmmaker, but Cronenberg the humanist sans irony is more than that. He is an auteur.
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Grizzly Man – Without a doubt this is one of the most powerful documentaries I have ever seen. Timothy Treadwell’s story could easily have become fodder for camp and exploitation, and so it is a remarkable achievement that Werner Herzog is able to present Treadwell with so much honesty and empathy but never soft-peddle this kind warrior’s bizarre and infantile theatrics. Indeed, as narrated by Herzog, Timothy Treadwell’s mission to protect Alaskan grizzly bears becomes a quixotic battle for truth and beauty in a chaotic and unsympathetic world. Watching Treadwell walk the fine line between love and madness, we perceive all of the beauty, fragility, and absurdity of the human condition.
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2046 – What is it that makes this film so haunting? Is it the stunningly subdued performances, the breathtakingly pensive cinematography, or something more elusive? Whatever it is, Wong Kar Wai’s latest opus is a heartbreaking meditation on love, loss, and loneliness and nothing short of remarkable. 2046 is a film charged with lyrical eroticism, and if its lack of a traditional narrative structure threatens to alienate the casual filmgoer, its intricate interplay of romantic, retro, and sci-fi elements provides an alternative conceptual framework in place of narrative that is at once enigmatic and engaging. The film is suffused with both pathos and poetry, and those who water at the trough of film to slake their spiritual thirst will come away revitalized
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King Kong – Everyone’s favorite love story about a beautiful girl and her monkey is brought back to gleefully overstated life in Peter Jackson’s latest romp. This is everything that you could possibly want in a King Kong remake and then some: tommy guns, giant bugs, dinosaurs, killer bats, and a harrowing climax (in which the world’s biggest myth meets his end atop the world’s largest metaphor) that would melt a heart of stone.
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Munich – In attempting to untangle the complex and disparate threads that constitute the Israel/Palestine question, Steven Spielberg has crafted one of his very best films. Despite the allegations of bomb throwing ideologues on both sides of the isle, Spielberg’s film does not pander to Islamic terrorists, nor does it mollycoddle militant Israeli Zionists. Instead of taking sides, Spielberg is intent on capturing the common humanity of characters bound up in a violent struggle that mutates and escalates with a cancerous mind of its own. Along with Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, Munich is the second great film this year to take a good hard honest look at the ambiguities of violence, and like Cronenberg’s masterpiece, it raises far more questions than it answers.
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Brokeback Mountain – Brokeback Mountain is certainly the most critically celebrated picture of the year, and if it isn’t my favorite film from 2005, it is superb, nevertheless. Every scene in Ang Lee’s film is perfectly measured. Nothing is overstated or maudlin. The movie tells a great love story with restraint and poignancy, but what really makes the picture shine is its accessibility. This is not just a movie for gay cowboys, it’s a movie for anybody with a soul.
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Pride & Prejudice – Keira Knightley delivers what is surely the artistic breakthrough performance of her career in one of the most remarkable Jane Austen adaptations ever brought to the big screen. In fact, everything about this film is remarkable: from the cinematography, which uses gorgeous vistas and lengthy tracking shots to great effect; to the writing, which captures the spirit of Austen without being slavishly devoted to the text. The resulting movie is visually dazzling, smartly sexy, and hands-down the best date movie of the year.
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Junebug – This is a small picture, but a very good one. A Chicago art dealer travels with her new husband to Carolina to strike a deal with an unknown artist and meet her husband’s family. Junebug, which boasts an incredible performance by Amy Adams, manages the remarkable feat of depicting a family of Bible Belt Christian in-laws whose eccentricities are so profound that they appear almost neurotic, and yet it never scorns or ridicules its characters. The film is unflaggingly kindhearted even in the midst of tragedy, and it graciously acknowledges the profound beauty that lurks beneath the surface of seemingly mundane lives.
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Tropical Malady – This might be the simplest film of the year, but it is also undoubtedly one of the most challenging. In the film’s first half a young Thai soldier and his shy country friend fall in love among the idiosyncrasies and incongruities of globalization. In the film’s second half, the soldier tracks a shape-shifting shaman through the Thai jungle. But why bother talking about “who goes where and does what to whom” in a movie like this? The truth is that summarizing what little plot exists in Tropical Malady seems akin to summarizing the plot of a ballet: it tells less than half the story and with none of the poetry or magic. And Tropical Malady is film that is filled to the brim with poetry and magic. These emerge not from plot, but from carefully observed details and moments of myth and transcendence—subtle shades and textures of meaning that we hunt for avidly, only to discover that they have been creeping up on us the whole time.
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Oldboy – The unflagging level of physical and emotional violence indulged in this Korean revenge flick is matched only by the style and grace with which it is filmed. At once stomach-churning and gorgeous, Oldboy is a vengeance picture worthy of standing alongside Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill Vol. 2. However, unlike the Kill Bill pictures which possess a comic-bookish levity that removes the audience from the graphic depictions of violence, Oldboy is virtually relentless. And yet, when redemption arrives in the final moments of the film, it is done so artfully and with such good faith toward both the audience and the characters that it is impossible to feel anything but gratitude toward this picture.
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The Corpse Bride and Wallace and Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit – Each of these films displays impeccable craftsmanship, and each is a joy to watch. So, once again, and with feeling: Death to CGI! Long live Stop-Motion!
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Land of the Dead – Let them eat flesh! In Land of the Dead the proletarian undead raise hell and raze corporate capitalism as George Romero opens fire on post 9/11 America. Nobody interweaves splatter-fest gore with withering social critique like Romero, who manages to entertain and provoke at the same time, proving that you can have your cake and eat it too.
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Sin City – Good cops, bad cops, thugs, mugs, jugs…and oh, did I mention a trophy-hunting werewolf who dresses like Charlie Brown? This isn’t a film adaptation of a graphic novel. It’s a graphic novel posing as a film. Every frame is a panel straight out of Frank Miller’s comic book chronicles of film noir hell, operatically violent and brutally romantic.