Counting Down the Zeroes 2004: Undertow

This will be appearing in Film For the Soul's Counting Down the Zeroes project Saturday, August 1st. Enjoy.


When I think of the great opening scenes in film history I think of Argento’s Suspiria, Scorsese’s Raging Bull, Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West, and of course, the greatest of them all, Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil. In addition to those masterpiece openings, I would add the more modern addition of David Gordon Green’s opening to his brilliant 2004 thriller Undertow. In six minutes Green gives us a narrator introducing the story in typical oral mythology fashion (“this is their story, as it was told to me”); his usual in-the-moment, painfully real dialogue ( We see two teenagers presumably in the middle of a tryst as the boy says: “We should disappear. Go someplace where we can see everything” And the girl replies: “Let me see your knife…can I carve my name in your face?”); and pretty much every editing trick in the Final Cut Pro bag of tricks. All while being accompanied by Philip Glass’ eerie score that sets the perfect mood for the rest of the picture. It’s a perfect way for Green to begin his film: he wants Undertow to be a myth, he sets us up the way a master storyteller would, and visually he gives us one of the best pieces of character development I’ve ever seen. It’s an incredibly entertaining, beautifully edited and orchestrated first six minutes, and it’s one of the best openings to a movie that I’ve ever seen (clip is supplied below).




The film plays as a myth, more specifically a myth about the Munn family and some gold coins that act as the catalyst for, what else, murder. Here Green’s Southern Gothic look is a perfect fit for the type of story he’s set out to make; his film exists in this fable (to borrow a word used to describe the film by the brilliant Ed Howard) world, and the allusions to Laughton’s Night of the Hunter are just as obvious as his allusions to the fables where children must set out on an odyssey of discovery, growing up too fast and alluding danger along the way.

Why are these kids growing up too fast and on the road? Because their estranged (and strange) Uncle Deel (Josh Lucas who plays the role with maniacal glee) is in town visiting their dad John (played by Dermot Mulroney) inquiring about a job on the new Munn family farm (Chris and Tim are the kids, and they hate the farm, but their dad insists on them remaining alienated from city life). We come to find out the history of the Munn family – a certain affliction that bothers Tim, the death of their mother, and we get some insights into why John prefers giving it a go at farming when it seems that he’s never done it before – but more specifically we begin to see the history between Deel and John, and why there is such bitterness between them. This all eventually boils over and leads to an intense, and ultimately deadly, confrontation about some gold coins that may or may not be hidden in the house. From that point on the film is an eerie thriller. It’s an unconventional one, too, especially in the way that Green stages most of the chases and scare moments in daylight, creating an unsettling feeling akin to what John Carpenter did in his boogeyman masterpiece Halloween.

SPOILERS FOLLOW:

The film is not just a thriller, there’s a lot lurking beneath the surface – the film is also about the Munn kids (Chris and his odd little brother Tim) and their journey, but more specifically Undertow is about forgotten kids. In their great series The Conversations, Ed Howard and Jason Bellamy talk extensively about this theme of kids just "wandering around" in Undertow. This gets at the larger theme in the film which is that kids need a home, and more specifically the displacement, and the fractures lives/journey of the Munn kids. When Chris and Tim construct their house in the junkyard Chris places a mug that reads “Home Sweet Home” on the dash of the car they’re sleeping in. Sadly, at that moment, that seems to be the most suitable house they'll find (they'll find themselves in other houses, too, along their journey). The junkyard, though, acts as a perfect Gothic setting for the film, it also acts as a nice metaphor, showing how displaced these kids are, seen as nothing more than bits to be sent to a scrap heap. This is later made even more obvious by Green when the Munn kids find brief refuge and friendship at a hideaway inhabited by other displaced kids.

The junkyard also acts as a metaphor for how “chopped-up”, or fragmented, their lives have become, and the affect that can have on two kids. The junkyard is just as compartmentalized as their lives, and made me think about the Munn kids and the stages of their life that is shown to the audience, or talked about by the characters. Chris (Jamie Bell) and Tim used to live in the city when their mom was still alive (one stage of their life), their mother dies (second), dad moves them to a farm (third), Deel comes into Chris’ life and reveals that his mom was actually his girlfriend first…hinting at the fact that Deel is probably Chris’ biological father (fourth), their dad dies (fifth), they go on the run and find a home at the junkyard…a momentary safe haven (sixth), they come upon a compound where other displaced kids live (seventh), their chase ends with Deel and Chris involved in an intense fight where Deel eventually is stabbed and left to die on the bank of the river (eighth), and the film ends with the both of them being rescued by their grandparents (ninth stage). My own arbitrary organizing there shows that they go through nine significant changes in their young lives.

Their journey is broken up into stages, or continuing with the myth idea, chapters of the story. So it’s apt that they take refuge midway through their journey at a place that is the epitome of compartmentalization. The ending is befitting of a myth, too, as Green ends his film with a deus ex machina, but we accept that as a viewer because we’re always aware that what we’re watching is myth. The stages of the film and the set piece of the junkyard also act as a reminder that Green’s film is a pastiche of some of the films that have certainly inspired him: Badlands, Days of Heaven, and the aforementioned Night of the Hunter. Green is above simple thievery, though, as each allusion helps punctuate his own ideas, making Undertow the best films of 2004.

Green’s pretty comfortable, as I mentioned earlier, at throwing every trick in the book in that opening six minuets, but he allows the film to pretty much play out without barely any camera trickery at all. He still adds in some nice editing touches, but nothing as overt as the opening. He also continues to showcase those great scenes he's known for where the viewer happens upon a conversation in medias res, and we hear all kinds of interesting things that real people would say; however, Green isn’t going for the affect his George Washington or All the Real Girls went for, he’s content keeping Undertow within the boundaries of the thriller and myth. Whether or not that hurts his film is an interesting debate as I think this is Green’s best film, and is his most underrated (or overlooked), and I think too often, and unfairly, people omit Undertow when talking about Green’s triumphs as a director.

It’s no surprise Terrence Malick produced this film. His influences are just as evident here as the influence of Night of the Hunter, and it’s refreshing to see another filmmaker, who like Malick, doesn’t just film something beautiful for beauty’s sake. There is a purpose to cinematographer Tim Orr’s shots, and even though they are beautifully framed and conceived, they aren’t showy, blow-away shots that exist only to draw attention to how good the filmmakers are. These are shots that are designed to evoke mood – visually-poetic conceits that conjure up the danger and horrors found in the original Brothers Grimm stories – shots that always tell us something about the narrative, and help move the story along.

Undertow sits comfortably at the top of my list for best films of 2004. It’s a refreshing thriller that embraces the ethereal qualities found in myths or fables, giving the viewer great locations (the opening six minuets of the film, the junkyard where Chris and his brothers seek refuge) that are feasts for the eyes, and scenes of surprising warmth (the scene where Chris finds out that two waifish girls have tried to steal his coins, and instead of lunging at them in anger, he looks upon them with empathy as if to say: “we come from the same place”.) that showcase Green’s narrative skills in addition to his extremely creative and poetic eye. Undertow is David Gordon Green’s masterpiece, and the best film of 2004.

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My Top 10: 2003

It’s time to submit your top 10 for Film for the Soul’s Counting Down the Zeroes project. So head on over to Film for the Soul and submit your list in the comments section here. Then Ibetolis (the blog’s author and organizer of this massively impressive project) will place the lists on the Counting Down the Zeroes blog, which acts as an archive for all of the reviews and lists associated with this fun project. My list comes after the jump...

This list wraps-up the year 2003 and looking back on the releases from that year, I have to say that I quite shocked by how many quality action films there were. I count four (Open Range, Kill Bill, Master and Commander, Lord of the Rings) in my top ten.

Three foreign language films find their way into the top 10 this year – one was two of the best filmmakers working today (The Son), and the others were by two old pros (The Man on the Train and Saraband) one of those masters, Ingmar Bergman, is the greatest filmmaker of all time in my humble opinion, and sadly 2003 would mark the final time he would release a movie – and another three foreign films find their way onto the honorable mention list.

Two really good horror films (May, Oldboy) were released in 2003, but couldn’t quite make the cut. I think this marks the first year I don’t have a slot open for a comedy…although Christopher Guest’s lovely A Mighty Wind, and the very warm and funny (not to mention manic) Jack Black vehicle School of Rock, came awfully close to cracking the top ten.

One of the most wonderfully bizarre film experiences I’ve ever had was watching the Polish Brothers’ Twin Falls Idaho upon its release in the late 90’s – and their 2003 follow up, Northfork, was one of the most beautifully photographed films of the year. Another indie darling, David Gordon Green, made quite possibly his "worst" film in 2003 (All the Real Girls), and that’s not a knock on the film, because it’s a beautiful film…it’s just proof how high the bar has been set by the North Carolina director. From indie darlings to an old master: Peter Weir proved once again why he’s one of the best filmmakers we have working today (Master and Commander)…I just wish he would release more stuff.

Billy Ray made a phenomenal debut with the extremely tense and always interesting biopic about “journalist” Stephen Glass (Shattered Glass). Sofia Coppola followed up her 2000 masterpiece The Virgin Suicides with a wonderfully genuine and sweet, unconventional comedy (wisely removing the romance) starring Bill Murray in a career performance (Lost in Translation).

The best film of the year was a film that elevated my soul to new heights…a film that had me thinking about it long after I walked out of the theater. I still remember the day I first saw it, and the many subsequent viewings haven’t lessened the power of the Dardenne’s film. The Son is a rare film that, as Roger Ebert so eloquently said in his review, “needs no insight or explanation. It sees everything and explains all. It is as assured and flawless a telling of sadness and joy as I have ever seen.” The Dardenne’s are a treasure, and in 2003 you will find their most prized jewel in The Son.

On with the list…

Honorable mention (AKA “the other ten”): All the Real Girls, American Splendor, The Dreamers, Elephant, House of Sand and Fog, May, A Mighty Wind, Oldboy, School of Rock, Whale Rider

10. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Peter Jackson)
9. The Man on the Train (Patrice Leconte)
8. Open Range (Kevin Costner)
7. Northfork (The Polish Brothers)
6. Saraband (Ingmar Bergman)
5. Master and Commander (Peter Weir)
4. Shattered Glass (Billy Ray)
3. Kill Bill Vol. 1 (Quentin Tarantino)
2. Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola)
1. The Son (Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne)

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Counting Down the Zeroes 2003: The Son

Here's my second review for the year 2003 for Film for the Soul's Counting Down the Zeroes project -- click the link and check out all of the other fine entries for the year 2003.

I think Roger Ebert said it best when he reviewed The Son upon its 2003 theatrical release: “All a critic can bring to it is admiration. It needs no insight or explanation.” So, what else is there to say then? If I say the film is brilliant, then how is it brilliant? That’s the thing about the films of the Dardenne Brothers, it’s not so much how it is brilliant – the aesthetics are your typical (seemingly) simple minimalist tactics: over the shoulder shots, voyeuristic tight shots, and long takes with no musical score to tap us on the shoulder and tell us it’s time to feel something – it’s the why that makes it different. The Dardenne’s make films about something. They rely on the audiences expectations that something has to happen, and then revel in letting things just play out with a total disregard for how popular film and television have trained us to see a scene. The Dardenne’s look at their subjects with the precision of an expert artisan; they measure, assay, and then proudly display to us their findings. And Ebert’s right, all one can do is show their admiration, because really, what filmmakers trust their audiences enough to understand that it is in the small, quiet moments of the banality of everyday life where the most profound truths can be discovered.


The Dardenne’s finest film is indeed The Son, a film with a title that aptly represents their style of filmmaking: simple and to the point. We know there is a man named Olivier (played by Olivier Gourmet who one the Best Actor prize at Cannes that year) and that he works at a trade school. He teaches carpentry to boys fresh out of juvenile prison. One day he is approached to take a boy named Francis. He cannot because they are full; however, Olivier sees something in the boy and begins stalking him, sizing him up and trying to find out as much as he can about him. Countless films have trained audiences to think that one of the following will occur: Olivier sees potential in the boy and will turn him into a proper citizen through hard labor and lots of on-camera soul searching, Olivier is a pedophile who stalks children, or Olivier is the boy’s father. None of these are true, although the first instance does sort of occur as Olivier tells the woman in charge of placement that he can take the boy in his wood shop.

We get small slices of insight into Olivier’s life. One night after work Olivier is visited by a woman. They trade pleasantries, but Olivier seems detached – fiercely focused on what seems like the rude and inappropriate practice of soup – while his guest stands and looks at him. We come to find out that this is Olivier’s ex-wife. She is getting re-married and is pregnant. Olivier wonders why she had to tell him this today. She says because I am off on Wednesday’s. He replies “why this Wednesday.” It’s exchanges like this that make me adore the Dardenne’s and extol them as two of the most important filmmakers working today. The way they carefully mete out the information in the scene – so that the viewer is now assuming the correlations between the films title and Olivier and his ex-wife – is a perfect example of how, when used properly, the effects of minimalist cinema are some of the most powerful tools a filmmaker can use.

When Olivier begins to take a more blatant, vested interest in Francis certain truths are revealed that I dare not give away. We soon begin to see the relevance of the film’s title, and we begin to see that The Son is a film with many religious allegories (work/labor as penance, grace, faith through works/deeds versus forgiveness, revenge/forgiveness); however, it is not interested in your generic apprenticeship type storyline. The two have brief conversations, usually interrupted by work or table soccer, but eventually Olivier finds out what Francis did to get locked up, and it’s from that point on that the film starts to unravel deep pain and truths that are the rarest of commodities in film.

I hesitate to divulge too much more information – sure the film has been out for six years now, but if you haven’t seen the film I implore you to do so now. This is the type of film that can elevate the soul to places that we normally associate with the great pieces of classical music, poetry, literature, philosophical or religious inquiry, etc. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, as cheesy as it sounds, this film has the ability to change you, and I wouldn’t want to spoil that by giving away plot points – even though a film as good as this rises above any kind of “spoiler warning”.

The aesthetics of the film are typical of the Dardenne’s and of this particular film movement. The Dardenne’s simply observe the action in the film – they let the audience watch intently knowing that they don’t need to “punch up” any scenes with visual or dramatic élan. The film is simple, and there isn’t a lot that “happens” in traditional film speak, but despite the so-called simplicities of The Son it is a film that is extremely intense and superbly crafted. You watch with that kind of undivided attention as if you were listening to a really good lecture or trying to eavesdrop on an interesting conversation in a coffee shop.

The plot is not sitcomy. There are moments where Olivier is alone with Francis and we assume the worst. Specifically I’m thinking of the scene where the two are cutting wood with a saw, and because of how we’ve been trained by lesser films we think something bad is going to happen; but no, the Dardenne’s aren’t interested in that, they’re interested in the craft of what Olivier does – they film the scene and watch him with just as much precision and care as Olivier is applying to sawing the wood…it’s an amazing scene that, despite seeming simple enough, is a rarity in film.

The film is a masterpiece because the Dardenne’s understand this simple truth: when adult mentors make an impact in a young person’s life, the change that may occur rarely looks like the way it is portrayed in movies like Freedom Writers or Good Will Hunting. The process of transformation is usually a slow burn (I’m speaking form experience here as I’m a teacher at a school with the same kinds of kids as Francis), and the Dardenne’s use of minimalist staples help punctuate that sentiment; sure there are epiphanies, but rarely do they occur in such an over-the-top manner. The banality of it all is actually what makes The Son work – what makes it uber-real, here the banality is a good thing, a platform for the Dardenne’s to show that it’s often in the banal that the most change occurs.

Yes, Olivier is teaching Francis a trade, but he’s doing much more than that, and when you see the movie (or if you have you know what I’m speaking about here), and you’re made aware of certain information that the characters have, it makes the ending all the more powerful. Why? Because of what it not done. Too often we have been trained to expect something to “happen”, because everything in film these days has to have foreshadowing or a “big” climax; a crescendo or coda that really makes the viewer feel like they experienced something. That’s Hollywood, though; in real life it’s the small moments that make the difference, and they often go missed if you’re not looking for them. My vocational experiences have shown me that these are the moments when the marginalized, troubled kids like Francis learn…not in shouting matches or big emotional breakdowns, but in silence, working side by side – by simply being. No one in film understands this more than the Dardenne’s, and when the film ends in typical Dardenne fashion, just as banal as what has preceded it, all you can do is shake your head in gratitude that somebody got it right.

The Son is a masterpiece without the pomp or pretension found in the minimalist cinema of John Cassavetes or Lars von Trier. The Dardenne’s are able to evoke great emotion from the simplest (without drawing attention to how stripped back those moments are like the aforementioned filmmakers) through silence and astute observation. There’s something refreshing about the way the Dardenne’s have managed to even strip back elements of the minimalist movement to create a fly-on-the-wall type of film that allows us to sit and breathe and ponder next to these characters.

So, Ebert was right. I haven’t added much insight with this “review” into the themes this film broaches. Part of that is because I don’t want to give away some of the films deeper moments by ruining things for first time viewers, but ultimately I think it proves Ebert’s point that when one talks about The Son all the critic can do is admire it. There’s no critical deconstruction necessary because the Dardenne’s leave it all out there in their film; they don’t deal with nuances, but they’re not over-the-top, either. They simply observe and then proceed in displaying what they set out to do. I guess the most suitable way to wrap this up is with another quote from Ebert’s great review: “The Son needs no insight or explanation. It sees everything and explains all. It is as assured and flawless a telling of sadness and joy as I have ever seen.” There is no need for me to further explain the brilliance of this film. Ebert, obviously, says it better than I ever could, and it's pretty clear to this humble blogger that The Son is without question the best film of 2003.

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Counting Down the Zeroes 2003: Open Range

You know the drill. Ibetolis of Film for the Soul is onto 2003, and I submitted this piece for his continuous look at the films of the noughties.

Kevin Costner's western is the best modern entry into the genre since Unforgiven; I actually think it’s better than Unforgiven. It’s a call back to the kind of western that Raoul Walsh would have made; a film that is conventional in plot, but unconventional in its execution of the plots action. The acting is superb, especially by the veteran Robert Duvall who owns this movie from beginning to end. What's even more interesting about Open Range is the detail that Costner puts into the film. Every nuance seems true, every seemingly simple artistic touch hits the right note, and there’s something warm and comforting about the pacing of the film and the antiquity in its aesthetic.

Costner is most interested in the theme of displacement and men in power positions telling those “beneath” them what to do with their live. There’s a great speech by Boss (Duvall) at the beginning of the film that sets the plot in motion. He and Charley (Costner) are free grazers who are looking at some men who roughed up their buddies and scared their herd away. They’re looking out at the great expanse when Boos says: “It’s a beautiful country. A man can get lost out here. Man can forget that people and things aren’t as simple as all of this.” It’s a great moment that foreshadows their decision to get into a war with the evil Baxter (Michael Gambon in a great villainous performance), the owner of a nearby that doesn’t take kindly to free grazers.

In another great speech by Boss he informs the townsfolk that he and Charley have no intention of hurting them, and as Boss stares right at the towns corrupt Marshal, he gives another great speech: “Losing cattle is one thing, but a man telling another man where to go in this country…well that just aint right.” And so begins Boss and Charley’s time in the town. They meet some friendly people: a feed store owner (played by the late great Michael Jeter, in a great supporting role), a nice woman that Charley has a fondness for named Sue (Annette Bening in a throw away role, but she’s good when she’s on screen), Sue’s brother Doc Barlow (Dean McDermott), and the corrupt Marshal played by James Russo. But all of these characters take a back seat to the relationship between Boss and Charley.

What makes this film better than your average Western is the amount of time and attention that is paid to the relationship between Boss and Charley. Boss is obviously a father figure to Charley, and it’s interesting to watch the way he handles him, almost reining him in at times, during certain situations. Charley is an ex-hired gun, a man who saw a lot of bad things and did even worse things during the Civil War. There’s a great moment when Charley tell Boss not to stand behind him, which leads to a nice quiet moment at night as the two look up at the stars and Boss just listens as Charley calmly tells him about his history as a professional killer.

The final shootout is an amazingly constructed and masterful piece of mise-en-scene. However, before the shootout there’s a great moment with Boss and Charley as they load their guns and prepare for the battle that’s about to occur. Now watch as Boss cedes authority to Charley as he begins to lay out for them what will most likely occur. Charley can pretty much see how things are going to go, where people will be, and how people will react; and Boss is almost scared of this version of Charley. The shootout that follows begins abruptly with a loud bang, getting the message across that these shootouts from the old west weren’t always drawn out exercises. What follows is moment after moment of meticulous execution of the town’s logistics as the camera sweeps in and out of corridors and buildings. The camera looks through all kinds of perspectives: high angle, low angle, dutch angles, through windows, down low shots obstructed by onlookers (as if we ourselves have been dropped into the action). It’s an amazing piece of filmmaking, and Costner’s control and restraint of the moment, his ability to change perspectives and show a lot of the action through long shots, proves what a great director he can be (forget for a moment The Postman and Waterworld).

The big shootout aside this is just a fabulous western that raises some interesting themes of displacement, and how “lesser” civilians are being discriminated against by those “higher authorities”. It’s also an interesting look at the ugliness of gun violence. Like Clint Eastwood’s masterful Unforgiven, Costner’s film also is interested in how loud, brusque, and altogether unpleasant gun violence is – especially in the old west. Costner shows the town as people who are not just bystanders watching the violence unfold, but as people who retreat to the hills to get away from what they know will tear their town up. There's a great scene where Charley and Boss are riding into town as most of the town is retreating up the hill to the church and Charley calmly states "they know a fights commin'".

I have read interviews where he talks about how Costner was not just interested in the loudness and abruptness of the violence caused by guns, but also how the towns where these shootouts occurred had to deal with this fact and try to live a normal life. He mentions in the same interview that he saw pictures where there were bodies everywhere; obviously someone had to remove those bodies, and he was interested in not making a John Wayne type western where the bodies just seemed to disappear, and then the town rejoices with piano and whiskey. Costner was more interested in showing how a town has to deal with the aftermath of a shootout, and what kind of closure does it really bring anyway?

Open Range is a great reminder just how powerful and affective the western can be while simultaneously being a great entertainment. There is great scene after great scene of classic western tropes, but above everything is Robert Duvall's performance as Boss. The way he tries to rehabilitate Charley into a functioning member of society is one of the most interesting things about the movie, and the conversations they have with each other and with Sue are sometimes more interesting than the action scenes. Watch Duvall deliver that speech in the tavern the first night they go into the town, or the concern he has for a dog floating down the street due to a flash flood, or the disdain in his voice when he tells Sue that Baxter’s men killed his dog. He is just so fun to watch in this role, and it's a shame he was never properly recognized for it. Yes, it's true the ending may go on a tad too long, but I didn't mind the stay too much because to say it plainly (which seems apt for this film): Open Range is a great, great movie...easily one of the best of 2003.

Extra Stills (I went a little crazy capturing images):

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My Top 10: 2002

Ibetolis of the brilliant Film for the Soul has added another fun feature to his massive "Counting Down the Zeroes" project. It's simple: just click the links above or go here to "My Top 10" on the man's blog and submit your top 10 list.

Late last month I pointed you all towards the above links in hopes that you would submit your top 10 lists on Ibetolis' blog. Well, he's wrapped-up another successful year in 2002, and as we head into 2003 he;s once again asking all of us to submit our top 10 lists. Click here and submit your list in the comments section and Ibetolis will archive it on the Top 10 blog. Onto the list...

Looking at my list of films 2002 was another American-heavy year on my list. It was also a year that had two great films by Spielberg (perhaps the most unfairly scrutinized filmmaker in a long while...being popular gets you hated I guess), and contributions to the list from great filmmakers like: Paul Schrader, Paul Thomas Anderson, Spike Jonze, Steven Soderbergh, and Martin Scorsese. Not too shabby.

The best film of the year for me was Paul Schrader's masterful biopic about the sex-obsessed life of Hogan's Heroes star Bob Crane, Auto Focus. It reminded me of some of the best work the man has previously done in his career: American Gigolo, Taxi Driver (as a screenwriter), Affliction, and Bringing Out the Dead (again as a screenwriter). I have always been fascinated by Schrader's own obsession with themes about men who are so narrow minded and controlled by their desires that they spiral out of control. Their slavish duties to their personal yens create fantastically interesting cinema, and Schrader is among the best in the biz at showcasing these kinds of male-centric stories. Auto Focus is perhaps Schrader's greats film as a director.

Spielberg pops up twice on the list -- perhaps the first and only time a director has appeared twice on a best of list -- first is Minority Report, a brilliant neo-noir that has some of the most beautiful shots I've seen in any noir picture. It's a fantastic ride, and the story unfolds at a brisk clip, and actually makes a lot of sense. Adapted from the Philip K. Dick novel, it rivals another Dick adaptation, Blade Runner, as being one of the best noir/sci-fi hybrids ever made. The other Spielberg on the list is his super-fun, and super-glossy Catch Me if You Can. An infectiously fun film with some great performances by Leonardo DiCaprio (who like Spielberg had two great films released in 2002, the other being Scorsese's Gangs of New York) and Tom Hanks who enjoys playing the East Coast G-man out to get DiCaprio's con man. The chase is a lot of fun and reminded me of films like North by Northwest and Charade, other "thrillers" that were all about the relentlessness of a chase. Catch Me if You Can also has one of the most fantastic credit sequences I've seen in any film.

City of God and Russian Ark are the only foreign films to make the list this year. City of God reminded me of a Brazilian Goodfellas as it has every kind of post-production trick in the book brusquely pushing the viewer through relentless scene after relentless scene. It was definitely one of the more interesting films of the year, and showed an interesting, darker side of Rio. Russian Ark is famous of course for being one continuous shot. It finds its way on the list for the sheer audaciousness of such a feat...and the film isn't half bad, either.

Punch-Drunk Love at one time would have been tops on the list, but I find myself coming back to some of the other films more often than Paul Thomas Anderson's sweet and bizarre romantic comedy. Adam Sandler proves that there's something in there lurking...maybe not a great actor, but an interesting one; and Anderson always makes us interested in Sandler's Barry. He's an odd duck, but Sandler plays him as something more than just a misunderstood soul...there's nuances to the performance that just make you shake your head and think "what has Sandler been hiding from us all these years." It's about as dark, strange, and otherworldly a romantic comedy can get -- but those scenes in Hawaii -- let me tell ya: pure cinematic poetry.

Charlie Kaufman's best film Adaptation. was also, sadly, the last film Spike Jonze directed (until this years much anticipated Fall release of Where the Wild Things Are). This is also one of Nicolas Cage's best performance as twin Kaufman brothers who must write a screenplay for an adaptation of a popular book penned by Meryl Streep's character. The amazing thing about the film is not just about the astute commentary on all of the "how to" workshops offered in Hollywood (although, the scenes with Brian Cox are some of the funniest, and most pointed bits of satire I've seen), but as it progresses it evolves into a meta-film of monumental proportions. It's one of the best examples of Kaufman's obsession with postmodern cinema, and it's easily his finest work. Jonze has a lot of fun too turning the film into all of the cliches that Cage's character relies on to burst through his writers block.

Todd Haynes' Far From Heaven was a wonderfully constructed call back to the melodramas of Douglas Sirk. I cannot add anything that my friend Sam Juliano hasn't said better --- after all, he saw it 21 times in the theater! Click here to read his thoughts on the film. It's definitely one of the most beautiful looking films of the 2000's.

One of the biggest films of the year was also one of the most entertaining. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was the last time Harry and friends would be so innocent and squeaky clean. It has all of the fun elements of a film like The Wizard of Oz: meaning that it's both childish in delight and still contains a bit of bite with its darker elements. This is my favorite Potter picture as it was the last time any remnants of joy seeped through the darker elements of the story -- you know, before every Potter film became The Empire Strikes Back.

I always try to include one comedy on my list, and one of my favorite in all of the 2000's was Jake Kasdan's brilliantly funny Orange County. I am a lover of writing, and literature, so naturally the protagonist journey was one that was appealing to me. And when he finally gets to Stanford and meets his mentor, it's one of the warmest scenes of the year. Jack Black also proves with this film (and 2000's High Fidelity) that he's best used in small does. I'll never stop quoting the line: "I didn't go to college, and look at me, I'm kick ass."

Here's the list with the honorable mentions:

1.) Auto Focus (Paul Schrader)
2.) Minority Report (Steven Spielberg)
3.) City of God (Fernando Meirelles)
4.) Punch-Drunk Love (Paul Thomas Anderson)
5.) Adaptation. (Spike Jonze)
6.) Far From Heaven (Todd Haynes)
7.) Catch Me if You Can (Steven Spielberg)
8.) Russian Ark (Aleksandr Sokurov)
9.) Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Chris Columbus)
10.) Orange County (Jake Kasdan)

Honorable Mentions:

About a Boy, Changing Lanes, Femme Fatale, Gangs of New York, Solaris, Talk to Her, Whale Rider.

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Counting Down the Zeroes 2002: Auto Focus

"Tell them sex is normal. I'm normal. People have these hang ups..."

This is what Bob Crane, a shell of his popular self, explains to his ex-agent at the end of Paul Schrader's Auto Focus. He has to tell himself that because he's so dense he can't see that his obsession with sex doesn't mesh with his obsession with being liked; he fails to see the conflict. Paul Schrader is at his best when he's profiling characters who will do anything to be liked. These are usually men, and the characters are often people who have a need, sometimes an obsession, to be understood and to be liked. Whether it be Travis Bickle, Jake LaMotta, Julian, or the subject of his brilliant 2002 film Auto Focus, Bob Crane, Schrader is a director obsessed with studying how these types of characters, and their need to be liked, leads to a lonely existence.

Auto Focus is not about Bob Crane (Greg Kinnear) the television star, that much we already know, and Schrader wisely zips through that part of his life within the first 15 minuets. The film is more concerned with the Bob Crane who had an unending need to entertain and be liked. He doesn't want to disappoint anyone, and this is one of the main reasons he frequents strip clubs: he doesn't want to feel bad for turning down an invitation.

The bulk of the film is concerned with Crane's relationship with tech-head John Carpenter (Willem Defoe) who introduces Bob to the swingin' world of strip clubs, sex with multiple partners (their motto becomes "a day without sex is a day wasted"), and orgies. It's clear that the friendship he began with Carpenter was the catalyst for his own downfall, but what Schrader shows is also a man whose naivete put him in compromising situations. Crane was never embarrassed by his obsession with pornographic magazines, and in a scene where his first wife finds a stack hidden in the garage Crane explains that there's nothing to be ashamed of, "I'm a photo nut" he proclaims, as if he were looking at them for their artistic quality. That's the sadness that permeates every frame of the film: Crane is a man almost childlike in the way he sloughs off the fact that he's showing people naked pictures of girls ("not everyone looks at these things the way you do, Bob" his agent explains to him one day on the set of a Disney movie) or how he's playing the drums in strip clubs in order to "hone his craft".

Kinnear plays Crane as the lovable loser he was. He's all surface, never concerned about his own morals or ethics, because I don't think he ever thought about that; he just wanted to be liked and that came at whatever cost. Even when Crane's ego gets so big, as he becomes more and more comfortable with his suit of celebrity, he cannot help but berate his friend John Carpenter in the nicest possible way. There's also a moment where Crane, late in his career, is on some local cooking show and makes a disparaging remark to a women in the front row. It's a sad scene that shows how Crane's sexist humor is a product of a man who refuses to evolve; he thinks aloud and his thoughts of women aren't the same as those he has to work with. It shows how the obsession, the nightly immersion into amateur pornography clouded his mind resulting in tactlessness; he's involved with sex on a daily basis, so why shouldn't everyone else depersonalize sex the way he does. It's a sad, telling scene that is common in these types of biopics, and Schrader shows the perfect amount of restraint with the scene, never going over-the-top with it; and Kinnear, too, who plays the scene perfectly as a man who is oblivious to his own idiocy.

There's another great scene at the beginning of the film where Crane is doing a press junket for the show and he's being interviewed by a radio host. Crane, a former radio host himself (that's how he broke into Hollywood) is looking forward to the interview. However, the interviewer asks him a rather snarky question: "so would you say that if you enjoyed World War II you'll really like Hogan's Heroes." Crane is taken aback for a moment as the interviewer gets up and leaves as Crane screams "you're an entertainer, you should understand." It's all about entertaining for Crane, and even though now in the not-so-sensitive time of 2009 it may seem silly to think that Hogan's Heroes was ever an entity to be taken seriously, but back then nothing like that had been done before, and the fact that Crane doesn't really question his enthusiasm for promoting his new comedic show about a concentration camp shows Crane as a man who dissected few situations, all he wanted was to be told he's a nice guy and that he's doing a good job. It's a brilliant performance that transcends apery -- sure Kinnear looks and acts like Crane, but he also shows the man as being someone who is walking the tightrope of debauchery and celebrity.

Defoe plays Carpenter for the sleaze that he was. A man who uses his niche, his understanding of technology to leech onto the leftovers of celebrities. He forms a bond with Crane because really, Crane is the only type of person someone like Carpenter can be friends with. Crane doesn't like to disappoint, and there come a few times in the film where you get the sense that Crane is going to pull the trigger on ending their friendship, but he looks at Carpenter's pathetic grin (a grin only Defoe can supply) and just can't do it. Carpenter is the ferryman ferrying Crane to the underworld of sleaze: orgies and amateur pornography all for the gratification of the aftermath -- Crane and Carpenter don't get off on the moment, they get off on watching it later. There's a telling scene where they are watching one of their hidden camera, homemade porn films where they try to guess which city the act took place in. Crane and Carpenter causally talk to each other as they both reach down their pants as Crane says "this is making me hot..." It's a sad, pitiful descent Crane makes, and he's ushered there by the sad, pitiful Carpenter.

Paul Schrader has written many of Martin Scorsese's best films and as one watches Auto Focus they feel like they're watching the prototype for a Scorsese film: humble beginnings, quick ascent to the top, tragic downfall. That's the career arc of Bob Crane, a star on television before his personal obsessions clouded his need to always be liked. Once he alienated all of his contacts, leaving him pretty much unhireable, he had no other choice, because of his need to be liked, but to cut ties with Carpenter, which ultimately led to his death in a hotel room in 1978.

Schrader is on the very short list of directors who always have my attention. He's extremely underrated as a director. His writing credentials are well documented, and really, he's responsible for what I think are Scrosese's best pictures (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Last Temptation of Christ, and Bringing Out the Dead). He's a filmmaker that has always been interested in showing characters that aren't always easy to take; they're often characters filled with flaws who are responsible for creating uncomfortable moments that make the viewer wince. However, Schrader writes about these characters as if they were case studies. He lets the audience contemplate their actions as they unfold in an authentic way. Schrader's films are never overwrought and are always interesting and deeply thought provoking; evoking themes you can find in most of his films and certainly in all of the pictures he's penned for Scorsese. Here his aesthetic is subdued and subtle: as the film begins he paints his images with a beautiful sheen evoking the hope and prominence Hollywood can offer; however, as the film progresses, and Crane devolves so does the films style as the last part of the film is filmed mostly in close-up with hand held cameras evoking the paranoia and grasping-for-acceptance mentality displayed by Crane at the end of his life.

Auto Focus is like a lot of Paul Schrader movies: a forgotten, or never seen, masterpiece. I love the biopic -- especially films that show me someones life I didn't know much about or an aspect of their life I didn't know much about -- it's one of my favorite genres. This was a natural marriage I think as Schrader, one of my favorite filmmakers, tackles one of my favorite genres. I think it's the best film of 2002.

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My Top 10: 2001

Ibetolis of the brilliant Film for the Soul has added another fun feature to his massive "Counting Down the Zeroes" project. It's simple: just click the links above or go here to "My Top 10" on the man's blog and submit your top 10 list. It should be another fun thing to look back at in the archives. I'll post my list on here every time he wraps up another year on his site and remind you guys to head on over there and submit your lists. Since I didn't do this for 2000, I'll post that list at the bottom. Here's what I submitted as my list for 2001:

I'm still trying to catch A.I. as I know my fellow blogging friends like Sam Juliano hold it in high regard, so as it is with any list, it has the possibilities to change at any time.

2001 was a funny year for me. If I were to construct this list during that time (fresh out of one semester of college and thinking "what the hell am I to do with my life?") this list would look awfully different. You would probably see Vanilla Sky atop the list because at the time I was younger, dumber, and a Crowe apologist.

I pretty much copped out with this list from the onset by placing a released film Apocalypse Now Redux, at the top of the list, even though it does have a lot of new footage. But still, it's one of the greatest achievements in the history of cinema, and it was released in 2001 (albeit a different version that is debatable if it was necessary at all) so it goes at the top as a reminder of its influence on all the films below it.

Everything else on the list is just kind of "meh" as 2001 wasn't a particularly strong year in film, but as I always say on this blog, any year that produces reasons for me to talk about film is a good year -- there is no such thing as a bad movie year as long as intelligent and provocative movies are being produced.

David Lynch produced one of his masterpieces with Mulholland Dr. and Wes Anderson topped his previous masterpiece Bottle Rocket (yeah that's right, not Rushmore) with the amazing The Royal Tenenbaums, a film he has yet to top. The Claim was Michael Winterbottom's (who seems to release a good to great film every year) criminally underrated western starring Wes Bentley and Sarah Polley and Milla Jovovich and containing some of the most beautiful cinematography in a western since Robert Altman's McCabe and Mrs. Miller.

No Man's Land was the only real Foreign film that got my attention. The Tailor of Panama was a lot smoother and cooler than Soderbergh's Ocean's Eleven (which was also a great, fun movie). The Pledge was the last great performance we've gotten from Jack (yes that includes The Departed). And Ghost World was the perfect film for nerds like me...plus I'll always remember the soul patch line, ha.

The Majestic was another patience required drama from the king of lingering Frank Darabont. The only difference between this film and the way too long The Green Mile was that The Majestic was a sweet call back to the old style of dramas released in the 30's and 40's. Like his masterpiece The Shawshank Redemption, you don't mind the length of the film because you like the characters and like hanging out with them.

Finally Wet Hot American Summer: I always try to place one comedy on my year end lists, and even though Ghost World could qualify for that title, it's a tad too dark, and I really just wanted to give some love to the people who made The State and are starting to become a popular now with films like Role Models and I Love You Man (too many to name, but the most famous to come out of that group are Michael Ian Black and of course Paul Rudd).


So with that, here's my list for the best films of 2001:

1. Apocalypse Now Redux
2. The Royal Tenenbaums
3. Mulholland Dr.
4. The Claim
5. No Man's Land
6. The Tailor of Panama
7. The Pledge
8. Ghost World
9. The Majestic
10. Wet Hot American Summer

Runner ups: Ali, Amores Perros, Black Hawk Down, Devil's Backbone, Heart's in Atlantis, Heist, Memento, Monster's INC., Ocean's Eleven, Sexy Beast, Vanilla Sky.


Here's 2000 (in no particular order):

Traffic
Wonder Boys
The Virgin Suicides
You Can Count on Me
George Washington
Almost Famous
High Fidelity
The Contender
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai


Other good movies from 2000:

Dancer in the Dark, All the Pretty Horses, The Way of the Gun, O Brother Where Art Thou, Requiem for a Dream, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Thirteen Days, and Yi Yi.

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Counting Down the Zeroes 2001: Heist

Here is my second entry (fourth overall) for Film for the Soul's brilliant, and impressively exhaustive inventory of the films from the 2000's, Counting Down the Zeroes. The film I chose for my second go-round with the films from 2001 was David Mamet's underrated thriller Heist. And don't forget to check out the other fine entries at Film for the Soul.


Heist opens with a classic 1940’s black and white Warner Brothers symbol; setting the mood throughout that this is going to be a classic noir picture: haggard criminals who do "one last job", heists gone wrong, double crosses, double speak, brilliant actors who play bad guys that steal every scene they're in, and of course there's a femme fatale. Heist is also like those classic 1940's noir films in that it's heavy on attitude and style; it's a noir with filthy, wonderful Mamet language. David Mamet’s 2001 film is one of his least revered, and it’s understandable if you’re a Mamet veteran, than everything in Heist seems second rate compared to his much better films. However, I feel like Heist is one his most entertaining films: it has arguably his greatest cast spouting off some of his most hilarious dialogue (although State and Main gives this film good competition; and no I’m not counting Glengary Glen Ross because Mamet didn’t direct that.).

Heist is a typical Mamet film – a con on top of a con on top of a con, and I’ll be the first to admit that this is definitely his most convoluted thriller that definitely reminds the viewer of the better cons he’s pulled: House of Games and The Spanish Prisoner. If you’re well versed with Mamet and his con films, then nothing here will likely surprise you; and perhaps that’s where some of the backlash or laissez faire attitude comes from in regards to Heist. There’s still some fun “gotcha” moments that one expects from Mamet, and as always, the dialogue is hilariously irreverent, inane, nonsensical, and of course brilliant.


The story concerns Joe (played by Gene Hackman in on of his last truly great performances) a semi-retired criminal who seeks the good life because he’s been “burned” (caught on tape) after a recent jewel heist goes wrong. He’s accompanied by his team: Fran his wife (Mamet’s wife, and muse, Rebecca Pidgeon), Bobby (the always great-to-see Delroy Lindo), and Pinky (Mamet stalwart Ricky Jay). The group meets with Bergman (the invaluable Danny DeVito, who gives one of his best performances – the man was born to be in a Mamet film) and his nephew Jimmy (Sam Rockwell) to go for one last score: a Swiss airline is bringing in a ton of gold and they’re going to steal it.

And from there the typical Mamet plot conventions kick in. When they finally get to the big heist scene the plot is under a cloud of suspicion; a position that Mamet prefers the audience is in. The heist scene is wonderfully staged, but as is the standard with most Mamet films, you can never be quite sure if what you’re seeing is supposed to the real thing, or a magic trick, a clever ruse to fool the unsuspecting victims in the film. Therefore, some of the tension is subdued because Mamet veterans know that what you see is not what you get…so you’re constantly waiting for that “real moment” to happen. Still, it’s a damn fine heist scene (although my enthusiasm may be a tad tame since I just watched the greatest heist film ever made a few nights ago, Le Circe Rouge, so this pretty much pales in comparison to that film’s seminal, and masterful heist scene).

It’s no use trying to explain the intricacies (or contrivances) of a Mamet plot, so I think the best thing to do for the rest of the review is to give an example of why we all watch Mamet films in the first place: the insanely brilliant and nonsensical dialogue. Here are some of my favorite bits from the movie, enjoy:

Coffee Cart Man: Hey buddy. You forgot your change.
Joe Moore: [Takes the change] Makes the world go round.
Bobby Blane: What's that?
Joe Moore: Gold.
Bobby Blane: Some people say love.
Joe Moore: Well, they're right, too. It is love. Love of gold.

Fran Moore: Stay in the shadows.
Joe Moore: Hey, everybody's gonna be looking in the shadows.
Fran Moore: So where's the place to be?
Joe Moore: The place to be is in the sun

Bergman: “My nephew Jimmy Silk, yup, that’s who he is.”

Bobby: “You know why the chicken crossed the road, because the road crossed the chicken.”

Bergman: “Everybody needs money. That's why they call it money.”

Jimmy: So, is he going to be cool?
Pinky: My motherfucker is so cool, when he goes to bed, sheep count him.

Jimmy: No one can hear me.
Joe Moore: No one can hear what you don't say.
Jimmy: Hey, I'm as quiet as an ant pissing on cotton.
Joe Moore: I don't want you as quiet as an ant pissing on cotton. I want you as quiet as an ant not even thinking about pissing on cotton.

Pinky: It's a shame you know what, we didn't actually get to do the thing, the swiss job. It's a beautiful plan.
Joe Moore: Cute, huh?
Pinky: Cute as a pail full of kittens.

Pinky: Oh my, oh my. Go sell chocolates you Heidi-motherfuckers, go sell cukoo clocks, we got your gold!

Jimmy: How long has he been with that girl?
Pinky: What girl is that?
Jimmy: His wife.
Pinky: How long is a Chinaman's name?

Bobby Blane: Sometimes adrenaline gives people the shakes, some might think it's cowardice, so maybe you'd want to pray about it.
Jimmy: I'm not a religious man.
Bobby Blane: There's nothing wrong with prayer. We knew this firefighter, this trooper, who always caried a bible next to his heart. We used to mock him, but that bible stopped a bullet.
Jimmy: No shit.
Bobby Blane: Hand of God, that bible stopped a bullet, would of ruined that fucker's heart. And had he had another bible in front of his face, that man would be alive today.

Bergman: Where's the gold?
Joe Moore: In the heart of the pure.


Back to the film: The acting is great across the board here, and there’s no doubt that Danny DeVito was made to make a Mamet film. It’s too bad DeVito wasn’t around during the heyday of noir; he could have had a lucrative career playing the slimy crime boss. He has a great scene here where people start shooting each other and he wildly tells people to stop shooting because they can talk it out. It’s a hilarious scene that I can really only imagine someone like DeVito executing.

Gene Hackman is his usual great self, here, and really this film acts as a reminder of how much I miss seeing Hackman in films today. It’s too bad Hackman hasn’t really made anything since. He pulls off the beleaguered Joe really well, and he more than handles Mamet’s dialogue. It’s just a shame that this great actor retired with Welcome to Mooseport as his last film.

Despite all of the praise I’m throwing at this seemingly mediocre picture, it’s not as if I don’t understand the negative response towards the film. Perhaps the expectations were too high, though, and considering the last film he made of this ilk was the brilliant The Spanish Prisoner, I think it’s fair to say that some people haven’t given Heist a fair shake due to unfair comparisons.

I feel like this era of Mamet is one of his finest, and most underrated. In 2000 he made the fantastic comedy, State and Main, then followed up with this extremely enjoyable thriller, and then later came Spartan, a film I think is one of the most criminally underrated of the noughties (I know I’m probably alone in that camp, but I think the film is brilliant.).

Heist is a film that becomes clearer, not more ridiculous, upon second viewing, and that’s what I love about Mamet films – most films of this ilk worsen upon subsequent viewings because the holes in the plot become bigger, more noticeable; however, with Mamet’s con-game films, they become richer with each viewing.

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