Johnny Simmons

I contemplated doing a top ten lists of 2010 films which would have sufficed as proof of my favourites, but I’m not if not set in my ways and that seems much to imitative of the Academy’s recent return to nominating ten films for the honour – so I opted not to (not that this is actually cause for concern, but allow me my pretentiousness) – I went for an even more atypical top 7 instead. By now you’re probably tired of me telling you that 2009 had better films to offer us than 2010 and if I were to line-up my two top ten lists of the two years three 2010 films would make it into the combined ten. That doesn’t lessen my appreciation for the films I like this year – they’re still good. I haven’t found anything to fawn over embarrassingly like Bright Star or pontificate on continuously (and superfluously) like An Education but I do have one film at the top and a trio immediately after that’s difficult to separate. And the also-rans are in no way substandard. (All Awards)

When I think of my first impressions of some of these films, the results are kind of interesting. But, movie loving is a strange thing. Some of these films improve significantly on multiple viewings (The King's Speech, Scott Pilgrim vs the World) and some of them lose a bit of their lustre (The Social Network). The film I've seen most this year is The Kids Are All Right - and each time I see it, something new appears for me to love. Ah, le cinema....

(unless otherwise indicated, click on the photos for reviews)

                  

In its way Agora is just the sort of film that makes sense on my list of personal favourites. I’m as keenly aware of its issues as any of its detractors – well, except for Jose, even I can’t defend it from the tongue-lashing he gave it – but Amenabar’s pseudo-historical saga appeals to me not only on a social level but artistically. True, its technical achievements are impressive, and maybe there’s something in it being the first A (well, A-) that I gave this year. At its strongest moments, though, no other drama this year – not even The Social Network – is able to marry intelligence with entertainment so sumptuously. And, I’ll always credit it for making me appreciate the ellipse which I was never half as interested in when I was actually studying Technical Drawing.

I’m anxiously waiting what Michôd’s next cinematic encounter entails. Perhaps, Animal Kingdom shouldn’t work as well as it does – and a throwaway description of it I heard (an Australian, small-scale GoodFellas) made me wonder if it’s all really as rote as that. Still, when it comes to being seamless in blending acting, direction and writing Michôd’s work here is astounding. It approaches the bleak issues with a freshness – that’s not delusion – and manages to suggest interesting things about potential archetypes with smart profundity.
                        

                            

Detractors seem taken with the notion that the work is not laudable because the story is a normal suburban one with lesbians – no kidding. The very point of The Kids Are All Right IS the rote ways of suburban life, Paul is a mere plot point (albeit a nice, juicy one) and Choledenko knows to create the tone that makes the film dependant on its familial issues and not its LGBT themes. It’s a bit insular to boil it down to holding merit for the way that that ends up being so progressive; its strongest asset is its non-judgemental attitude toward its entire cast. It’s the sort of film that’s a bit like an arbitrary voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of a group of flawed individuals.
                                                                 

                                             

When you get past the fact that The King’s Speech isn’t what you expect it to be, the tale that Hooper crafts is comforting in its stylish sedateness. The amalgamation of everything that makes it thoroughly British (even if in an ostensibly formulaic way) is stimulating to watch as Hooper and Seiberg use the conventionality to create something subtly imaginative. I don’t care if it’s technical aspects have (unfortunately) turned into something of a joke recently, but it’s the sort of subtle camerawork and editing that’s always impressive and what’s more it emerges as one of the most well paced cinematic experiences of the year.

                                                               

Rabbit Hole

One of the strangest things about Rabbit Hole is how much we manage to learn in a mere hour and a half. Neither Lindsay-Abaire nor Mitchell is willing to waste time on the extraneous and they make each minute contribute to a consistent movement forward that’s deliberate (though, never forced) and organic always in its progress. I’d never call it overwrought because despite its emotive potential there’s a sort of sheen preventing it from being too interested in the hypersensitivity of dealing with death and more involved in the detachment Becca and Howie feel from the world. Mitchell echoes it in his directing, and Lindsay-Abaire ensures that it wraps up concisely – but not with an obtrusive ribbon to tie it off.

                       

No movie this year puts a perpetual smile on my face as much as Scott Pilgrim vs the World (yes, I’m in lesbians with it). It’s continually daring without any arrogance about it, and in its somewhat single-minded desire to entertain us it never robs its characters of their integrity. A videogame geek, I am not, but I feel affronted on its behalf for being relegated to mere “dabbling” in technological innovations. Wright’s dedication to story and characters triumphs over a number of the more non-comic films of the year, and he approaches his subjects with a dearth of pretentiousness that even more of them could benefit from.

                            

Amidst the barrage of Oscar prognosticating and choosing sides that’s happening online, it’s difficult to remember where your allegiances lay in the first place. The staunchest of supporters for The Social Network supporters have turned into a mean crowd, but that won’t make me waver in my appreciation for it. Rabbit Hole wins in the succinct department, but The Social Network emits a smoothness to it that’s never smarmy – no matter. Fincher’s directing style is not exactly personal, but his intent on coalescing technical aspects with the insularity of his protagonist is impressive. Add that to the fact that for every pithy bit of dialogue that makes you start, there’s an equally intelligent scene that makes you think.

                        

FINALISTS: The Ghost Writer (review) tops my other list, and true there’s a delicate divide preventing me from surrendering completely to it. Despite the slightest of reservations, though, Polanski’s control over the story is excellent and a seamless screenplay merging with a talented cast makes for a rousing, intelligent but always entertaining thriller; Somewhere is a more dubious choice – ostensibly, I suppose – but I might even intimate that it’s my favourite piece from Coppola. It depends resolutely on her ability to retract the sometimes officious hand of the director and let the film just exist in its natural state culminating in an indolence that’s not overly stylised but still sophisticated and most important emotionally motivating.

                          

SEMI-FINALISTS: They’re all worth your time for various reasons like The Fighter (review) for its ultimate focus on familial relationships and issues of self all under the smokescreen of a boxing film; Greenberg (review) for being so continuously smart in examining the misanthropic tendencies of a man simultaneously hateful of the universe and desperate for appreciation; Nowhere Boy (review) for managing to have that many obvious clichés in its pockets but still – in the end – managing to be refreshing in its focus not on Lennon but a troubled teenager; Let Me In (review) for taking the horror genre and moving it from the obtrusive to the psychological all the while never exploiting its young leads.

#14: Cairo Time (review)

#15: Shutter Island  (review)
#16: The Runaways (review)

#17: How to Train Your Dragon (review)

#18: Blue Valentine (review)

#19: Black Swan (review)

#20: Get Low (review)

#21: Green Zone (review)

#22: Night Catches Us (review)

#23: Toy Story III (review)

#24: Nanny McPhee & the Big Bang (review)

#25: Winter’s Bone (review) 

  

Nomination Tally (24 Categories, some miscellaneous some not)
127 Hours  1 nomination
Agora 10 nominations (1 Gold, 3 Silvers)
Alice in Wonderland 1 nomination (1 Gold)
Animal Kingdom 9 nominations (3 Silvers)
Black Swan 6 nomination (1 Gold)
Blue Valentine 1 nomination (1 Silver)
Brooklyn’s Finest 1 nomination
Burlesque 2 nomination (1 Silver)
Country Strong 1 nomination (1 Gold)
The Fighter 3 nominations (1 Silver)
For Colored Girls 3 (1 Silver)
The Ghost Writer 7 nominations (2 Golds, 3 Silvers)
Greenberg 1 nomination
Green Zone 1 nomination
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows 2 nominations
Inception 4 nominations (1 Silver)
The Kids Are All Right 10 nominations (4 Golds, 1 Silvers)
The King’s Speech 9 nominations (1 Silver)
Let Me In 2 nominations
Mother & Child 2 nominations
Nanny McPhee & the Big Bang 1 nomination
Never Let Me Go 2 nominations
Nowhere Boy 2 nominations (1 Silver)
Rabbit Hole 11 nominations (5 Golds, 1 Silvers)
Robin Hood 1 nomination
The Runaways 1 nomination (1 Gold)
Scott Pilgrim vs the World 9 nominations (1 Gold, 2 Silvers)
Shutter Island 7 nominations (3 Golds, 3 Silvers)
The Social Network 13 nominations (4 Gold, 1 Silver)
Somewhere 2 nominations
Tangled 1 nomination
True Grit 1 nomination
           

There, free at last – I am – my 25 favourite films of 2010. What do you think of my ragtag collection of picks? Snap decisions: how was 2010 in film for you?

It’s been an unusually good year for the leading men. I look at the Academy’s list of nominees, and even though one in particular sticks out oddly– it’s not a terrible performance. I could easily flip-flop between my actual list of nominees and the six finalists and still be satisfied with whatever top 5 I come up with. This was actually the category that gave me the most indecision in choosing nominees; never has a list of nominees felt so arbitrary, even the winner is debatable. Last year Ben Whishaw in Bright Star was an indisputable winner, but I’d be willing to give any of these five gentlemen a gold star. So, in the face of the generally bland showing of 2010 films it’s nice to see such good male performances.

        
(Click on the photos of the gents for full-reviews of featured film)
         

Coppola is so interested in getting that listless tedium of real life down Dorff is forced to play the part through expressions and not dialogue, and he succeeds impeccably. Coppola’s lucky that he has the sort of open face that’s able to convey the blandest of emotions without making them seem hackneyed, so all those somewhat injudicious close-ups work incredibly well. He doesn’t make Johnny into two irreconcilable characters – the father and the actor – they’re one and the same, both of them hopeless cases so when that emotional breakthrough (breakdown?) comes towards the end it’s not completely unexpected, and not at all forced but it’s still profound and moving. (Highlight: Breakdown)

As the narrative of unfolds, you realise that Howie seems bland around Becca, not because the character is substandard or because Eckhart is not trying hard enough; it’s because Eckhart’s Howie is aware of how tenuous a grip on life his wife has, he’s just making the decision to be silent about it, which is why those looks he steals her way in the first half hour become so important. He’s just as tightly wound, and has even more trouble opening up to those around him because no one expects it of him. That’s why that argument with Becca comes off as more soliloquy than conversation, he has a whole lot of pent up rage inside. That adage of still waters running deep couldn’t be more significant. (Highlight: Walking the Dog)

There are times where’s he’s just a bit excessive with the physical tics, but the moments where he succeeds most are the deposition scenes where he’s able to merge the potentially arcane reasons beneath Mark’s ostensibly reckless behaviour against the somewhat wiser and still very gauche sensibilities of his present day sense. He just might get off with playing up the eccentricities of the character in earnest, because since it’s a real person he has a smokescreen to hide behind but he ultimately wins because he decides to carve Mark’s most piercing moments around more than just those tics, while managing not to let the inevitable vulnerability within become too much of an absolution of his less attractive qualities. (Highlight: “Does that answer your condescending question?”)

Because of the manner in which Seidler opts to establish Bertie’s idiosyncrasies Colin is obliged to characterise Bertie by the relationship he has with those around him. The rapport between he and Rush emerges as most obvious, but three significant moments of his play out opposite other performers. It’s easy to play the psychological motives behind his stutter trite, and Hooper and Seidler are lucky that Colin doesn’t play them as such. You can trace the moment he shuts down opposite his father, or note the self-deprecating way he speaks to his brother or the ways he opens up – or conversely closes up opposite his Queen. He’s anomalous in the way he keeps his emotions close to his chest, but reveals them under pressure – and Firth ensures that the transition between the two is natural. (Highlight: Either A Story for his Girls or A Bedroom Conversation with his Wife)

Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine (as Dean)

Gosling has a natural ambiguity to him that makes him all wrong for the palpable villainy of his role in All Good Things but perfect for the role of Dean here. Unlike Williams the narrative isn’t as interested in his back-story, so it’s up to him to create that impression of a real person with underlying issues – and not just in the more obvious scenes. Thus, the ambiguity ends up working – excellently – to his advantage as he manages to avoid any propensity for playing the character like a villain, instead finding the most sincere emotions in a man who’s sort of drifting through life, but who we don’t loathe. (Highlight: Pleading his case at the film’s end)

FINALISTS: Leonardo DiCaprio brings that same sort of intensity that has defined his recent performances to his Teddy in Shutter Island, but it’s more than an exercise in something he’s already done. For one, he must carry the entire film on his shoulders and he succeeds even when the narrative gets too pulpy; James Franco in Howl; even if you ignore the fact that this is James Frecheville debut, his performance in Animal Kingdom is still something special. Unlike his supporting cast, he must establish his characters through the most tacit of inclinations – and he delivers from that opening scene; this time around with Fuqua Ethan Hawke examines a different side of his range in Brooklyn’s Finest; in the same way that Hamilton avoids the temptation to make Night Catches Us the stereotypical racial drama Anthony Mackie does not give in to the possibility of turning Marcus into a formulaic “angry young man” – he grounds his character in a firm sensitivity that becomes one of the film’s strongest suits; Ewan McGregor doesn’t come off as particularly mysterious but he manages to be something in The Ghost Writer. It’s his film, and though he carries it on his shoulders he does so unobtrusively knowing when to recede for the supporting players to shine but always ready to take control again.

SEMI-FINALISTS: Collin Farrell eschews his most obvious calling cards in Ondine deciding to establish Syracuse with a steady reticence that feels like under acting but isn’t really. He’s not the film’s main enigma, but he manages to be even more mysterious by playing his emotions so close to his chest and still never being disingenuous; I’d give James Franco an A for effort in 127 Hours, simply because you know that he’s doing the best possible job he can with what he’s effort – and you know that he’s relishing it. Sometime he falls victims to Boyle’s own intent to evade the harsher tones of his character but ultimately it’s his performance – and little else – that’s able to evince any semblance of emotion from the stony narrative; Aaron Johnson needs to establish that certainty of charisma in Nowhere Boy without “playing” John Lennon, and he does it with startling adeptness – at least from where I sit. He’s still rough around the edges as a performer, but he (and Taylor-Wood) use that newness to his advantages making Lennon a fine example of someone trapped by his surroundings, but not melodramatically so; Kodi Smith-McPhee is even better in Let Me In than he was in The Road. He’s not the one playing the “old” character, but he imbues Owen with all the emotional complexities that you’d expect from an older thespian and delivers on the facial expressions when Reeves roots the film in the visuals and no dialouge; sometimes you get the feeling that someone else could have done the title role in Baumbach’s Greenberg better, but that doesn’t mean that Ben Stiller isn’t doing good work. He’s slightly unsubtle as we first meet the character, but the rapport he strikes between Gerwig and (especially) Ifans reveal a warmer side to him as an actor (and the character) that’s surprising and impressive; Mark Walhberg in The Fighter

And on to the writing accolades...

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

This is sort of like an ideal movie in that it really does begin with the screenplay, even though the writing never becomes an overpowering crutch. In fact, like so many of the achievements of Animal Kingdom it might be easy to miss just how great the screenplay is – or essential. The memorable characters are not as much about the brilliant performances as they are about the cohesiveness of plot and development coming from Michôd.
          
                       

Each authorial decision Baumbach makes, here, serve as palpable evidence of his interest in ensuring that his story moves forward. This is a difficult story to work with without making it too terse or stark and his interest in character (not just the main ones, or even the ones we see) is a significant reason as to why Greenberg ends up being a success – and such a good opportunity for the actors.

           

There’s an almost self-effacing easiness with which The Kids Are All Right unfolds, and the screenplay is an important part of that. Blumberg and Choledenko are both intent on keeping the narrative as uncluttered as possible, sometimes complex but never complicated and though it unfolds in simple spurts it’s never simplistic. When it comes to the scope of it all the screenplay is at the head.

         

I praised Seidler’s decisions in my original review, and after a second viewing I’m still impressed. Like The Kids Are All Right there’s a simple nature to the way the story unfolds which is never simplistic. This is the type of film where the characters often talk too much – and for too long, but even though The King’s Speech depends on its screenplay it’s not dialogue driven. True, dialogue driven writing works for some but Seidler  realises that it won’t here and instead goes for a naturalness that’s impressive.

Coppola seems much more aware and comfortable with the characters she carving than I’ve ever seen her. It’s not exactly minimalist (although it is low-key) and there’s nary a false moment as she gives us an almost voyeuristic look into this man’s life. The chance that the editing and photography team get to work with those smooth transitions depends on the organic development of plot here – courtesy of Coppola’s screenplay.

  

FINALIST: I sort of hate leaving Agora off the list, and it is a historical drama – not history, and sure there’s something vaguely humorous about crediting Hypatia with so much – but ignoring historical inaccuracies (which are neither here nor there, to be honest) Amenabar’s ability to turn even the most abstract of scientific principles into potentially riveting plotpoints is damned impressive; though I cannot wholeheartedly surrender my love to Blue Valentine it’s screenplay is a treasure worthy of effusive praise, not only for its obvious gutsiness but for the consistency of development which could have been easily waylaid for theatrics; Hamilton’s writing in Night Catches Us in beautifully devoid of agenda or pretentiousness – she’s more interested in her characters than any of those which is why the film manages to be as consistent despite a few issues.

      

SEMI-FINALISTS: Easy A is not as fresh as some of its biggest champions might say, but it’s aware of that and finds comfort in its comedy ancestors; in its final instalment Toy Story III manages to retain its charm and comedy all the while ensuring it delivers on the emotional poignancy necessary for the departure; The Fighter owes its accolades more to the direction than the writing, but at its strongest moments the focus on family ties and relationships is stunning if exasperating in the fact that there’s an even more excellent movie hidden underneath the very good one we get.

There’s sort of an irony as to Polanski’s writing and his direction – but he knows what he’s doing. He opts for a literal thriller-ish nature to his direction which means that the screenplay must be the opposite, and it is. It’s constantly subtly, and almost always unassuming despite its intelligence. That ends up being the quality that serves it best when it comes to that final dénouement where everything unravels so beautifully.

On the most obvious it is not the screenplay that’s responsible for all the cool things going on in Let Me In, and yet what Reeves creates on the page is necessary. It’s probably one of the barer screenplays of the year as it is – ideally – a bit of paradigm for the film itself and in that light the meticulousness of the entire exercise is commendable. I wouldn’t necessarily agree that less is more, but it’s an asset here.

It’s seamlessly adapted from the play it emerges as, perhaps, the most significant facet of this already well made film. Nicholas mentions in his review how we’re eased into every important situation, and that’s something important which can’t be overstressed. He’s careful to maintain a realness to the situation while managing to ensure that everything that happens has some reaction that maintains the realism and takes the story forward.

 
Scott Pilgrim vs the World has such a strident way to it so that it’s a bit difficult to single out a specific entity as its champion and in that light I’m unsure that I would champion its screenplay – and yet Wright’s adaptation is a significant as to why Scott Pilgrim manages to survive the journey from comic book to cinematic entity. It manages to be socially conscious without overemphasis on pop-culture fanaticism and it’s youthful without being pretentious. And, of course, it’s consistently hilarious – even when it succeeds with those singular moments of poignancy.

      

His droll dialogue, incidentally, ends up becoming a detriment to the praise he deserves since he’s doing more here than just providing witty lines. He fools you into thinking that he’s doing something especially newfangled on his own, when he’s just using old paradigms to create something classic and fresh at the same time. He deserves credit for never making the deposition scenes come off as retrospective as they could have been and ensuring that they are the foundation of the screenplay without making becoming pretentious.

FINALIST: How to Train Your Dragon is a whole lot of fun, but more than its hilarity it deserves credit for constantly ignoring the easier tricks and hooks that come with the territory and deciding to keep the best interest of its story – and characters – at the heart of it.

SEMI-FINALISTS: Winter's Bone, True Grit

         
Which screenplays impressed you most this past year?

It seems like a a weird parallel to make, but for the first third of Sofia Coppola's Somewhere- and sometime onward - I couldn't stop thinking about Rob Marshall's Nine. Earlier this week Joe Reid (of the hip and funny Low Resolution) tweeted that it's difficult to accuse a movie centring on aimlessness of aimlessness and it brought me back to Guido Contini's indecisiveness and Marshall's conceit of framing the entire film in that same interlude of vacillation of his protagonist. It's something that the critics didn't take too kindly to. And, although, the critical reaction to Somewhere hasn't been as irresolutely damning, it hasn't been particularly positive either; which is a pity. Like Nine, though the ostensible indolence of the protagonist seems to suggest a film with no point - and ultimately no merit - Coppola's Somewhere -- is a film created with aplomb and evidence that films need not have an overreaching "point" to be good.

Judging from how harsh my grade reactions to most films seem, you'd think that I expect a film to present me with much in order for me to appreciate it. But, I'm not in support of the idea that film - or any other artwork - should give us some seminal perspective on life and the issues we face in it. When it comes Somewhere it probably emerges as devoid of any significant "answers" to the big questions in life, but Somewhere is an ultimately internal exercise. Even though Jack's Hollywood problems seem to exist as an allegory for any random actor in Hollywood Coppola is least interested in Hollywood as a character and easy to discern that his profession - like a host of things he experiences - is just incidental. It's the sort of script that demands an actor who's a bit of an anomaly, someone able to externally establish things that should be internalised without making it ostentatious. One of the hooks that that didn't immediately jump out at me was the pair of strippers who come to dance for Jack. Dorff's expression is one of wanness that's jarring - not only because of the potential inappropriateness (considering the, situation) but because that's an expression he seems to have on his face *a lot*. You'd be wrong if you think that that's evidence of Dorff's limitations, though. It's an awareness of character that's striking and especially profound.