Another year is nigh upon us, so we at RT figured it was a good time to reflect on the cinematic slate with a compilation of some of our personal favorites of 2010. It was a strange year, one bereft of a four-quadrant-spanning film that galvanized the public – like 2009’s Avatar, for example – but not without plenty of highlights and idiosyncratic releases, from Inception to Scott Pilgrim. So take a look at our selections (we tried to avoid overlap), and tell us: what were your favorite movies of 2010?
Pixar came full-circle in 2010, returning to the characters that helped put them on the map back in 1995 with the release of Toy Story. And as Pixar’s technological capabilities have increased over the years, so has the sophistication of their stories. Sure, you may have choked up at the end of WALL-E, or the opening act of Up, but that doesn’t mean you were emotionally prepared for what the master storytellers at Pixar could do to you with characters you’ve known for 15 years. In what may be their last outing, Woody, Buzz and the gang prepare to say goodbye to their owner Andy, who is heading off to college. The movie puts the toys in the same position as many parents, watching a child become an adult and feeling proud, scared, happy and sad all at the same time, and director Lee Unkrich makes us feel everything Andy’s toys feel; I defy any parent to watch the last act of Toy Story 3 without a lump in your throat (if not outright tears). That we can feel so much in an animated film is a testament to the skill of the artists at Pixar, and shows that Unkrich, and producers John Lasseter and Andrew Stanton, are some of the most talented filmmakers (animated or otherwise) working today.
This movie probably isn’t going to get a wide release until January (if ever), which means that only those living on the coasts will be able to track this down in the local art house theater. The good news is that it’s likely to get plenty of Oscar nominations, which means it may eventually hit the multiplexes. It’s absolutely the kind of movie the Academy loves to honor; it’s a period drama, it’s about royalty, and it’s about someone overcoming a serious handicap. But don’t let the clichés fool you – this is a very rewarding movie. Colin Firth puts in a simply amazing performance as Prince Albert (later King George VI), the unexpected heir to the throne of England who suffers from a terrible stammer. Firth does a terrific job of making us feel Albert’s frustration and self-disgust, and I think he’s a shoo-in for Best Actor this year. Geoffrey Rush plays the speech therapist whose unconventional methods help break through to Albert, and Helena Bonham Carter brings considerable depth to her role as Albert’s wife Elizabeth; I think it’s a safe bet to expect nominations for both of these supporting roles.
I was giddy watching Unstoppable, and walking out, I said to myself, “This is why I go to the movies.” There’s something liberating about Unstoppable‘s brilliantly simple premise (our heroes must stop a runaway train) – there’s no need to embellish a scenario so primal, no reason to convolute matters. Unstoppable is briskly paced and terrifically acted – the famous faces here (Denzel Washington, Chris Pine, and Rosario Dawson) each do a terrific job of convincing you they’ve actually spent years of their lives down at the rail yards. This is the kind of old-school, meat-and-potatoes, irony-free filmmaking that went out of style in the mid-1990s, which is kind of a shame, since a lot of those movies were really fun.
A friend of mine described Black Swan as “The Red Shoes meets Repulsion.” Throw in a dash of director Darren Aronofsky’s previous film, The Wrestler, and he’s spot on; Black Swan is at once a backstage drama about the blurred line between a dancer and her role; a thriller about a young woman’s descent into paranoia and madness; and a gritty examination of the ways in which performers suffer for their art – and find moments of transcendence. The performances are outstanding: Natalie Portman is superb in the tricky central role; Mila Kunis is marvelously ambiguous as her co-star/rival; and Winona Ryder’s scary turn as an over-the-hill dancer is a haunting reminder that today’s ingénue is tomorrow’s bitter has-been. Still, though Black Swan is masterfully crafted, it’s cold to the touch; this is a movie you admire more than love. But there’s a ton to admire here – this is an uncompromising effort from one of contemporary cinema’s most consistently interesting filmmakers, and there’s never a second that this haunting film is less than compelling.
I’ll recall 2010 as the year of the video game movie. We had the usual adaptations, like Prince of Persia (notable as the biggest adaptation ever, albeit with little box office in return) and another Resident Evil, and then we had something like Scott Pilgrim vs the World. Vibrantly violent, warp-filled and with audio design that sneaks in sounds from Sonic the Hedgehog and remixes the Link to the Past theme song, Scott Pilgrim is the quintessential ’80s kid hero. A common criticism of the film is its emotional simplicity; I call it purity. Video games can exist on a total absolution of story: if the boy wants to rescue the princess, what more is required to start this journey? Edgar Wright knows this, and gives us streets of rage and indie rock.
Disclaimer: not a fan of TRON. It’s deadly serious with bad characterization and even worse dialogue. Overall, it just feels pointless. Which is kinda exactly what TRON: Legacy is, isn’t it? For me, I’m guessing that TRON came out at the wrong time (where I allow the story problems to overtake the effects) and TRON: Legacy came out at the right time (where I don’t). Movies are always defended for their escapism, but few ever achieve such value. TRON: Legacy delivers the adolescent joy, a rather unique unified vision of lights and music and action. It’s an out-of-body experience. Meaningless, but an experience nonetheless.
Truth is in the mind of the beholder, so it was great to see three faux verite films — Banksy’s mystifying Exit Through the Gift Shop, Harmony Korine’s heartwarmingly filthy Trash Humpers, and this — mocking, deflating and in some cases quite literally taking a dump on the tedious line between fact and fiction. Pitched somewhere between Exit and Borat — or if F for Fake-era Orson Welles had joined the cast of Jackass — Casey Affleck’s purported account of Joaquin Phoenix’s retirement and hip hop career is really a colossal Gonzo prank, alternately grotesque Method madness and a much-needed, nasty satire of celebrity culture. The fact that Affleck revealed the doco to be a sham should mean Phoenix gets a Best Actor nomination; if only to see him throw up on and fall off the podium.
It was a good year to be bored in LA. I loved the slow-burn narcissism of Noah Baumbach’s Greenberg and Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere, but nothing beat West Coast ennui better than a gang of pre-punk teenage girls with guitars in this hazy, Quaalude-stoned reverie for the city’s hedonistic heyday. Beautifully filmed by debut director Floria Sigismondi, who paints a kind of lovesick valentine to The Virgin Suicides via Christiane F., The Runaways captures what most join-the-dots music biopics don’t: the vitality of its subject. It’s as though the film had been shot through a smear of glam rock facepaint by a camera mounted on platform boots — catching that fleeting thrill of being 16 and defiant, before the world comes crashing back down. And Dakota Fanning’s eerie-eyed, silent film miming to “Lady Grinning Soul” — before flipping off the school assembly — goes way deeper than any over-the-top, earnest Oscar acting.
Is Kick-Ass essentially a glossy teenage fantasy with a reasonable premise stretched far beyond the realm of plausibility? Sure. Is this necessarily a bad thing? Not if you ask me. I never read the comic that spawned Kick-Ass, and to be honest, what piqued my interest the most was, like many others, the prospect of seeing little Chloe Moretz hacking and slashing her way through hordes of baddies. Furthermore, beyond the fact that Aaron Johnson’s Dave Lizewski is an everyman who spontaneously decides to try his hand at crimefighting, superhero-style, I really knew precious few details about the story itself. In other words, much of what I saw in Kick-Ass was a pleasant surprise for me, from the animated side-story of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, to the unexpectedly gritty (albeit cartoonish) violence, to the “origin story” of Red Mist. I expected the movie to be fun, and it certainly was, but there was something more, something downright cathartic about the experience. Yes, these characters inhabit a fictional universe, but what if? I admit that I myself have actually wondered what would happen if real people became caped vigilantes, and Kick-Ass sort of brought those daydreams to life, in very entertaining fashion. It’s a solid production that fulfills its title’s promise and even manages to be thoughtful about it in the process.
Bong Joon-Ho has established himself as one of the elite filmmakers hailing from South Korea, and though I wasn’t as enamored as many others were with his breakout hit, 2006’s The Host, I enjoyed his crime thriller Memories of Murder and thought his segment of the 2008 omnibus film Tokyo! was the best. And that brings me to Mother, which isn’t just my favorite limited release of 2010, it’s my favorite film of the year, period. This is basically a Coen Brothers movie set in the Korean countryside; you’ve got the rural setting, the off-kilter cast of characters, the mixture of quirky humor and abrupt violence, and it all works perfectly. Korean screen veteran Kim Hye-Ja steals the show as the overprotective mother (natch) of a mentally disabled young man accused of murdering a schoolgirl. She’s convinced he’s innocent, and her quest to prove it leads her in some surprising directions, often with ominous results. Mother is an engaging, well-acted, and equally character- and story-driven film that really showcases Kim’s acting chops and makes great use of dark humor. It’s further evidence that Korean cinema is a force to be reckoned with, and I love it.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place! Every once in a while a movie makes me feel, and I mean really feel. Anxiety, stress, pain, nausea, a variety of emotions and desires. And makes me think. And makes me feel alive. And makes me so thankful for my decrepit limbs. 127 Hours at points felt like 127 hours of pure torture. It was possibly one of the hardest movies I have ever watched… and yet I can’t remember the last time I have felt so inspired. It is truly a work of art. And James Franco is without a doubt the most delicious human being on the face of the planet. If you can stomach it, see it.
If you can get past the stereotypical and predictable story of the comeback of a washed-out fighter, you will find an amazing story about a family, relationships, and addiction. While the movie is called The Fighter, for me the boxing took a back seat. This is one of those movies where you truly feel for and connect with the characters — all of them — from the smallest to the largest role. They are interesting, colorful, deep, and flawlessly portrayed by a cast of astonishing actors. Definitely the feel good movie of the year!
Deafeningly hyped from the moment it was announced, Christopher Nolan’s latest between-Batmen project teased filmgoers with months of slow reveals: the intriguing cast, that eye-popping trailer, and, of course, the top-secret plot. By the time the film finally reached theaters, it was all but impossible for it to live up to expectations, but it came pretty darn close — and in the end, the most disappointing thing about Inception was just how darn complicated so many people seemed to think it was. Under all that hype, Inception doesn’t really ask for anything more complicated than our undivided attention — and while it certainly isn’t without its narrative flaws, it rewards that attention with a cinematic experience that lingers long after the opening credits. In the year that started with The Tooth Fairy and ended with Little Fockers, we should all be grateful that a film built on layered storytelling and a teasingly ambiguous final act could rake in more than $825 million.
Get Low is a film that shows us nothing we haven’t seen already — Robert Duvall as a crotchety old coot, Bill Murray as a charming charlatan, Sissy Spacek as an amazing talent given too little to do — but familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt. Think of director Aaron Schneider’s understated dramedy as cinematic comfort food with top-shelf ingredients, like artisan macaroni and cheese, and you’re on the right track; Get Low‘s goals are modest, but it achieves them all with quiet aplomb, and contains some marvelous performances by one of the year’s most talented casts in the bargain. Watch it and lament Hollywood’s unwillingness to do this kind of thing more often.
The first time I tried D-Box I hit my boyfriend and asked him why he didn’t protect me from “that violation.” For those unfamiliar with the technology, D-Box is a chair that jerks you around during the film and takes the movie experience one big, new step towards theme park ride. This seemed too klassy to be paired with Inception and too comically excessive for Resident Evil: Afterlife (the first 3D/D-Box film, so I heard), but for a documentary about steel-clad, 40 year old, adolescents bungee-ing in poop-shacks, this was a freakin’ coup. This, along with the fact the event was packaged to me as a date, brought me to the theater. It was also my first Jackass experience (insert cherry-popping pun here) and, not to sound hoi polloi, but I kind of regarded it as something as dignified as porn, only with barnyard animals, and the evil man inside me really wanted to see how the animals factored in (they’re easily the funniest thing in the movie). The pranks were good, if sometimes messed up (like the snake-filled coffin they put that snake-phobe in) but those guys are totally good-natured pals. I mean, Chris Pontius dressed like a gorilla and scared the older guy so much he “had to take a mean s—” and everyone had a good laugh. Not me, though. I really only liked the parts with the animals, which may or may not make me some kind of freak.
You can’t make a documentary about counterfeits without making the point that documentaries are their own little counterfeit realities. Exit Through the Gift Shop pairs this conundrum with graffiti art, which is likely the only art whose presiding authorities work to prevent and remove the work. Banksy, the 35+ year old British skater/graffiti artist, is known globally for his subversive stencils of beefeater rats and snogging bobbies, and for as long as he’s been perpetrating his illegal street art, he’s kept his real identity unknown. The irony here may be lost to half the world but it’s all too clear to Banksy, whose work loves to twist the literal into new shapes. “About” a used clothing salesman (maybe) named Thierry Guetta who becomes a copycat graffiti artists and turns into a production line manufacturer of “custom art,” the film points as strongly to the flaws of the art world/market as it does to Banksy’s own surprise that he’s made himself a major mover/shaker as a result of his illegal activities. Whoever the subject of the film is and whether or not it’s a high-stakes sham are about as relevant as all the money that was hand-over-fisting “Guetta,” I mean Banksy, I mean [insert name here]. Maybe it’s real, maybe it’s not, but we’ll believe it for 90-plus minutes and question half the world afterwards. A Brit might phrase it another way but this American thinks, “Ask not what your documentary can do for you.”
