I have been reading lots of Top 10 Movies of 2004 lists, from critics and bloggers and friends, and following the nominations and prizes for various film-related awards, and reading a lot of blogs that analyze the films from 2004.
And I am so lost in a sea of films about which I know very little.
Looking at the Golden Globe and BAFTRA nominations, I realize how many of the generally critically acclaimed and/or commercially successful movies I haven’t seen. (Not that I saw a lot of the obscure lil indies, either.)
But people are arguing about Vera Drake and I am not sure it ever played in Austin, or if it did I missed it, but I missed so many movies. I also missed I [Heart] Huckabees, which I’m sorry about, and Birth and Closer, which I’m not.
I have seen Sideways, which seems to be the film to watch out for on Oscar night. I don’t want to see The Aviator or even Ray. Million Dollar Baby hasn’t come to Austin yet, and I think I would like it, but that’s because I used to belong to a boxing gym and I like movies with boxing chicks in them. It’s not because I am looking forward to fine performances or any of that.
I spent about 10 minutes today writing down a list of the 2004-released movies that I have seen. I mean the movies that qualify for 2004 awards, not the ones that were released in Austin, because we frequently get award-winning end-of-year films a bit late.
Now bear in mind that I already have a list of those movies in a text file on my computer, and I could also find them quite easily by looking through my archives. But I didn’t want to do it that way. I wanted to write down a list from memory, to see what leapt to mind first, and (when comparing it with the full list later) what I’d forgotten.
I looked over the short list and the one film that leapt out at me, and the film I really liked the best and also thought was good and innovative and compelling and all that, was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I also marked a couple of other movies that struck me as being particularly entertaining to me, and those were Baaadassss! and Shaun of the Dead.
Then I marked three more films that were on a slightly lower tier than the others, and which were obviously flawed in one way or another, but which stuck vividly in my mind and which I enjoyed: Sideways, The Stepford Wives, and The Ladykillers.
That was off the top of my head, with no real thought involved, but look at what’s missing that I did see: The Incredibles, House of Flying Daggers, Fahrenheit 9/11 … and those are just the ones that people hope will win awards. I liked all of those films to a certain extent, but they weren’t All That.
I don’t understand how I am supposed to judge a film. I can tell you if I like it or if I don’t like it. I can tell you if it bores me to death or annoys the crap out of me. I can tell you if it made me cry (although I tend not to admit that) or if I nearly fell out of my seat because I was laughing so hard. I can tell you if I put the DVD on my wish list or tried to find it on sale at Fry’s because I feel like I ought to own it immediately.
I can judge the acting in a specific film, or at least determine whether the characters are believable and why. I think Sideways is on my second-tier list because of Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church, that their performances made the movie what it is, and without them I might have been disgusted with the film. (I haven’t written a review of Sideways yet so I feel like I’m getting ahead of myself.)
I will certainly tell you how I feel about the dialogue, if it sounds realistic or awkward or wonderfully witty or plain dumb.
I can analyze components of a film. I can tell you my response to a film. I cannot seem to rate a film, though. I am not sure how I would deal with writing those newspaper-style reviews in which one must grade a film with stars, or little popcorn boxes, or on a 1-10 scale. I think after awhile it would make my brain hurt.
If you give me a list of movies and ask me to pick the “best” ones, I don’t know what I’ll select or how I’ll select it. I doubt I’ll be very consistent. And sometimes the “best” nominations don’t strike me as being standouts.
For example, look at any compiled list of the Top Movies of All Time, or the Top Movies of the 20th Century, or anything like that. If critics are involved, which movie is at the top of the list? Which movie is always at the top of the list? Citizen Kane, natch.
Now I like Citizen Kane, enough that I would watch it for fun and not for a class or to research an essay or anything like that. It’s a good movie. I won’t argue. But the best movie ever? The best movie of the 20th century? Certainly it’s been quite influential, but so are the films of D.W. Griffith and I doubt most of us would want to sit through Birth of a Nation or Broken Blossoms or any of his other films other than for reasons of education or curiosity.
I just spent a few minutes writing down the movies I would put on a Top Films Evah list, without much thinking about it. It looks like this:
1. The Wild Bunch
2. Brazil
3. Some Like It Hot
4. Casablanca
5. undecided between Bringing Up Baby and Holiday
6. Raiders of the Lost Ark
7. A Clockwork Orange
8. L’Atalante
9. The Lady Eve
10. North by Northwest
Now, I’m not sure why I thought of those. If you asked me to pick the Top 10 movies again in a week, everything below the first three movies would almost certainly change. I’m looking at the list right now and wondering where the Marx Brothers ought to fit in, and why the hell I was even thinking of L’Atalante, which I’ve only seen once (but it was quite memorable). Casablanca probably shouldn’t be rated so high, but it’s such a beloved film by so many people. I mean, all kinds of people like to watch Casablanca—can you say the same for Citizen Kane? But does it matter? Because probably even more people have enjoyed Titanic, or worse yet, the Shrek movies, and I think those are all dreadful.
I am suspicious about why critics always reach consensus on Citizen Kane being the top film of films. I wonder if they all have little chips planted in their heads. (Aside: How many chips-in-the-heads movies were there in 2004? and what does this say about us as a society?) More likely, it’s a rote answer that comes from terminal indecision: you can’t possibly pick ten best movies, but everyone agrees that’s one of the biggies, so you can’t ignore it, you have to keep sticking it up there. Besides, what would you replace it with?
I started writing reviews on my Web site for my own records. I wanted to be able to look back and see when I viewed a film and what I thought of it. But I can’t write reviews on a publicly accessible site and not think of the audience. I had to rewrite portions of my House of Flying Daggers review because my boyfriend pointed out that I was giving away big chunks of storyline without warning. I don’t write in a vacuum.
And in the past few months, I’ve been reading more and more film weblogs, and review sites, and published movie reviews and essays. I know about the controversy in which New York Times critic A.O. Scott claims that critics praise Sideways disproportionately because Giamatti’s character naturally appeals to the types of people who become movie critics. I know that the Oscar nomination forms were due before the Golden Globe awards aired to minimize the effect of one on the other. I know who Anthony Lane is and I am terribly jealous of his ability to toss glowing witticisms into the air, in speech and in writing, as if they were nothing. I know that Howl’s Moving Castle is kicking box-office ass in Japan and I can’t wait for it to get here.
After too much of this kind of reading, I feel overwhelmed. I haven’t seen any Wong Kar-Wai or Takashi Miike films. I haven’t even seen Finding Neverland. I can’t keep track of what’s going on the film industry in America, much less in other countries.
And the thing is, I don’t have to. I have to keep reminding myself. No one is paying me to write about film. I’m not writing a thesis or a book or some substantial work about film. This is supposed to be fun, damn it. And it is. I don’t have to see any movies I think I won’t like, such as Meet the Fockers or Shrek 2 or Beyond the Sea. I don’t have to see any movies at all.
I have trouble sometimes when my boyfriend and I rent movies. I feel like I am being pressured to watch as many movies as I can. But no one’s pressuring me except myself, and it’s just needless stress.
Does it matter, which movies win awards? Or which movies people think are best? How does it affect me? The award-winning and critically acclaimed films are most likely to be released on DVD, or even theatrical re-release. But in 10 years, are the films we’re picking now going to be the films we still remember? In 30 years? Which movies won Academy Awards for 1974? How many of them have you seen? (Okay, that was not a good example … The Godfather, Part II, Chinatown, Amarcord). What about 1954? (On the Waterfront was a big winner that year.) How many of you have actually seen Citizen Kane? In the past three years? Own it on DVD? I don’t.
But, of course, it sure is all fun to talk about. And that’s probably the reason why most of us follow along with televised awards ceremonies, and read Best Of lists, and even write movie reviews to share. You can derive a whole lot of harmless amusement from arguing with critics, or picking selections for the Oscar pool, or even discussing with your boyfriend why you liked Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind a lot more than he did.
Now, can I have some nominations for Best Movie That Isn’t Citizen Kane, please? It would make a helluva fun discussion.
Movies are super-popular mass media, with a narrow distribution channel — there are lots fewer theater movies than tv hours — and many fewer movies than recordings and books released.
And so the conventional tv/newspaper movie review format is designed to answer the question — will a gazillion people like this movie. This is true even for smaller-audience award candidates.
A weblog is different — it is read by however many hundreds/thousands of readers who have compatible interests and sensibilities. A weblog review can be about the taste of the reviewer, without having to make a reliable recommendation for all of the tv watchers and newspaper readers.
First and most importantly, thank you for being another woman who loves The Wild Bunch.
Second, I’ve never been comfortable saying “best movie,” because I don’t feel like I’ll ever been well-informed enough to make that sort of decision. But my favorite movie of all time (for what it’s worth, Citizen Kane isn’t on my list, but The Lady From Shanghai often is) is Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt.
I always wish reviewers would say what the film is good at. My least favorites are special effects, beautiful imagery, and slapstick humor. My favorites are interesting characters, witty dialog, and interesting psychological situations. I think the Austin Chronicle likes anything that’s unusual, whether it’s actually good or not.
So then something that’s a “best” movie would be good at more things that other movies are. Most of my favorite movies have something weird about them that really strikes me, but they have such major flaws that I couldn’t call them “best” in a national review sort of way. But sometimes I do feel comfortable recommending them to strangers as good movies. One example of that is “The Iron Giant.” Sure, it has a couple of great characters, some characters with smarts, and fun deadpan humor–things I love. But it also has gorgeous animation, it has a good lesson (it is a kid’s movie after all), and it makes you cry without being overly manipulative.
I wonder if the “Citizen Kane” thing is about that movie being an amazing movie at the time, but now that lots of its good ideas have been stolen so many times, it doesn’t seem so great anymore. (I don’t know, I haven’t seen it.)
I agree that it’s fun to talk about movies. Hearing what people have to say can help you decide whether it sounds good to you. And talking about movies you like lets you relive them.