11 Best Films of 2011, Part 1.
A disclosure: I still haven’t seen Steve McQueen’s Shame, Alexander Payne’s The Descendants, Michel Hazanavicius’ critically-acclaimed silent film The Artist, or Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation. Given my upcoming travel schedule, there will be a high liklihood that I won’t be able to get around to them before the New Year. I’ve also not much desire to see War Horse or J.Edgar for the sheer manipulative feeling that both exquisitely-crafted films present.
But that said, I’ve seen enough films this year to proffer what I feel are the year’s eleven best, and I’m confident that the list would stay the course irrespective of what new films I may see in the next two weeks.
Contrary to popular belief, it’s been an amazingly strong year for American filmmaking, a feat that is likely hidden by the shitty economy and the shadows of studio juggernauts like Transformers 3, drivel like New Year’s Eve and Twilight, and the umpteen comic book films leading up to next year’s Avengers. But the other American cinema, the less than $15 million dollar budget films that populate only a handful of screens and haunt the DVD and Video-On-Demand circuit, this cinema has shown a remarkable insight and gift for nuance. This has largely and shockingly been missing in the foreign films of 2011, as only two non-American productions made my list, and those two films were British.
It’s also noteworthy that four of my top ten films are documentaries. I’ve stated on this blog that escapism has engulfed the global box-office, where tepid, unfunny romantic comedies and jingoistic superheroes provide the opiate to our everyday realities. But it is in the documentary where we find our most truthful and compelling stories, because those stories are our own. I do hope that one of the offshoots of the digital DIY age is the emergence of low-cost, high-concept documentary films that pull back the curtain on the mysteries of our everyday life.
But without further adieu:
11) Attack the Block, Joe Cornish, United Kingdom.
J.J. Abrams’ Super 8 got the global appreciation of a thowback kid-fantasy akin to The Goonies or classic Spielberg, but it was actually Joe Cornish’s Attack the Block that truly captured the sheer joy of being a kid on a wild and dangerous adventure. Set in the housing projects of South London, the film follows a ragtag group of teens as they are inexplicably forced to defend their block against an alien invasion. It’s no coincidence that the film echoes the racial and economic potboiler that resulted in the devastating riots in London earlier this year, and the film pulls no punches on where it is coming from. That this is all couched in a white-knuckle action film with some of the most kinetic and bravura sequences to defy a small budget in recent memory is astounding. An instant cult classic.
10) Cave of Forgotten Dreams, Werner Herzog, USA.
Werner Herzog is guilty of being as big a manipulator of emotions as Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard, or any of the big-name studio blockbuster directors. Herzog’s insistence upon placing himself in the thick of his documentaries often clouds the veracity of the subject, as he often makes commentary from his own experiences and places them over the subject.
But the saving grace is that Herzog is one of cinema’s great thinkers and philosophers, and despite his insistence on asking questions of the subject within his own context, every question is meaningful and absolutely necessary. Herzog’s latest documentary - shot in beautiful 3D no less (the only 3D film to make my list) - explores the caves of Chauvet in France, long believed to be the home of the oldest cave paintings on Earth. Herzog is given exclusive access to this treasure of art history, and his study and questioning of the art leads to a greater discussion of our purpose and function as both creatures and as an organized society. The paintings serve as a mirror to our fears and ambitions, and through them - and Herzog’s relentless inquisitiveness - do we learn the nature of survival, work and our pursuit of beauty. The claustrophobia of the setting echoes our own paranoia and fears the unknown, all plunged in darkness. It is an amazing documentary and an extraordinary achievement, one that is likely never to be made again.
9) Martha Marcy May Marlene, Sean Durkin, USA.
Paranoia strikes deep, and in the grips of the unknown, comfort is found in the form of a status quo. One might argue that this is the foundation of the modern cult or gang - to take in the broken and confused, and provide a sense of order and belonging. Sean Durkin’s harrowing Martha Marcy May Marlene is a portrait of a placebo, a band-aid on a bullet hole in the consciousness of a young woman struggling to reconnect with reality after spending time in a cult.
As with most stories that deal with issues of the mind, the film leans heavily upon nuance and real-time exposition, and as a result the pacing is slower and languid, befit for the lush surroundings of where the film takes place. The true success of the film however rests upon the shoulders of actress Elizabeth Olsen, who deserves far more notoriety for her acting prowess than simply being the sibling of the Olsen Twins. Olsen delivers a powerhouse performance of extreme subtlety, burying her inner torment with a mask of false confidence. There is so much going on in this character’s mind, and Olsen never once allows any of it to bleed as obvious. A slow, engaging film that commands our attention and compassion.
8) Meek’s Cutoff, Kelly Reichardt, USA.
An article in the New York Times called Meek’s Cutoff as eating one’s “cinematic vegetables,” in essence a film that is consumed for the betterment of the understanding of cinema, no more, no less. I disagree, as Meek’s Cutoff is simply brilliant filmmaking, a ramrod-straight experience of the American West, told without romance or agenda. Kelly Reichardt’s direction is free form and as open as the plains, a style the mirrors the experience of the pioneers, not knowing where they are going, navigating on hunches and base knowledge of the sciences of soil and water. The film is an exposition upon survival and trust, two elements that often painfully contradict one another. Meek’s Cutoff ends abruptly and without warning, leaving us with the same level of uncertainty as the characters. We don’t simply watch the film, we experience it, which is a rarity in today’s explain-it-all studio filmmaking.
7) Bill Cunningham, New York, Richard Press, USA.
I admit it. I take Bill Cunningham for granted. On my two-hour Sunday ritual of reading the New York Times Sunday paper, I often thumb past the Style section and maybe give Cunningham’s “On the Street” photo spread about ten seconds of my attention. Logic tells me that this is a Herculean task to put together, but I turn the page as if it is just another giant ad for Macy’s.
After seeing Bill Cunningham, New York, not only do I have a far greater appreciation for his column, I’ve come away with a greater message of what it means to pursue one’s bliss. Cunningham, who has done this job for decades, lives beyond modestly and refuses to take payment for his work, citing a salary as a true detriment to his freedom. And ultimately that is what this film is about - freedom. Cunningham lives in New York City as if it is his true playground, and he is bound to nothing. It is a philosophy however that is not without its collateral damages, and Cunningham, when asked the tough questions of faith and companionship, artfully dodges with an air of dignity and composure, like so many of the fashion-forward socialites in his photos.
6) Drive, Nicolas Winding Refn, USA.
Drive is, unquestionably, first-and-foremost, an exercise in style. It’s plot is simplistic and the film languishes in the day-glo synth aesthetics of yesteryear (actually the 80s) and is undeniably cool. Ryan Gosling plays the antihero to pitch perfection, with a swagger and style that was the stuff of macho wet dreams and countless Halloween costumes on Facebook. The movie doesn’t pretend to be anything other than an uber-cool love story, and that is completely fine by me. This is escapism done right - effortlessly, elegantly, and always with that one bit of reality (a shockingly violent bludgeoning) that always reminds us we are still only on the periphery of abandon. Perfectly executed.
Tomorrow, the top five!
