005. Flight

005. (06 Jan) Flight (2012, Robert Zemeckis) 53



Now we know what would've happened if you remade The Lost Weekend with a plane crash and terrible music cues. Tonally all over the map, this is far too preachy to get away with a gag scene where a coked-up Washington rides an elevator while a Muzak version of "With a Little Help from My Friends" plays. It ticks all the boxes for a substance abuse drama, meaning there are few surprises to be found with Zemeckis's predictable direction as an added liability. Whenever he lets the camera linger on anything (e.g. the miniature vodka bottle in the empty hotel room, Washington's tearful face at the end of the hearing), it's clear something dumb or gimmicky is about to transpire. The plane crash scene is exciting, I suppose, but it's a pale imitation of the 2004 Lost premiere.

311. Les Miserables

311. (15 Dec) Les Miserables (2012, Tom Hooper)* 28



Midway through act two, Hugh Jackman and Eddie Redmayne quite literally are up to their necks in fecal matter. That Les Miserables willfully offers that metaphor makes it the ballsiest or most clueless film of the year. Considering how dreadful it is, I'm leaning toward the latter.

There's not an iota of scale in Les Miserables, with roughly four wide shots that so much as hint that this is a historical epic in its entire bloated runtime. Just like in The King's Speech, Tom Hooper's amateurish aesthetic undermines every moment. Here he's as reliant on dutch angles as he is on dopey framing, keeping heads in the corner of a shot while negative space dominates the background. It's one of the worst photographed major studio films I've seen. But there's simply not much to work with since the sets and costumes are decidedly unremarkable. When Les Miz is not irritating to look at, it's boring.

Tom Hooper's direction is astoundingly misguided. Without dialogue, he relies on the score to tell the story. Unfortunately, only five musical numbers are at all good. Most of the talk-singing is instantly forgettable (namely the added and useless tune "Suddenly"). The nasally Hugh Jackman and overly emotive Samantha Barks are shameful standouts in the cast. Russell Crowe channels Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia! Eddie Redmayne and Amanda Seyfriend, without a hint of romantic chemistry, are wasted vocal talents. The much discussed Anne Hathaway is the only performer to give emotional impact to the film at all, overplaying her part, but at least not embarrassing herself in an intense close-up during "I Dreamed a Dream."

Hooper has suggested he attempted to emulate West Side Story, at least during "One More Day," which shows how ambitious and incompetent he is. His shoddily edited film not only is totally incoherent, unmoving, and uninteresting, it's laughable. Crowe's biggest dramatic moment is the most obvious joke, but it's impossible to enumerate the goofs in a film where next to nothing works. Empty heads and empty filmmaking.

281. Abe Lincoln in Illinois

281. (21 Nov) Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940, John Cromwell) 37



With Daniel Day-Lewis's definitive Lincoln now on film, Raymond Massey's Oscar-nominated turn seems more clumsy than it might have in years past. His tall, gawky frame allows him to bring physicality to the role, but his Lincoln is an empty-headed yokel. It's no easy task removing the intrigue from such a fascinating man. However, the scenarios here are downright goofy; Lincoln wins respect by wrestling a local bully and charms Mary Todd by hitting his head on a chandelier. Reducing his history to anecdotes, the film does no justice to the man. Ruth Gordon, high-voiced and wild-eyed, is a beguiling Mary Todd, at least. James Wong Howe's accomplished cinematography opens up this stuffy adaptation.

277. Silver Linings Playbook

277. (17 Nov) Silver Linings Playbook (2012, David O. Russell)* 31



Grating and mind-numbingly pandering, there's not a single genuine moment to be found in Silver Linings Playbook. There is, at least, the effervescent presence of Jennifer Lawrence, who at least elevates every scene she's in. But she's the only one bringing nuanced work alongside actors who are pure caricature. Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver, in particular, could hardly be in worse form, offering performances without the slightest hint of humanity in them.

David O. Russell's script is pure amateurism. He feels the need to cram all of his small ensemble into every scene, even when they have no place there (e.g. the psychiatrist at the football game, the cop at the dance competition). This gives the false sense that people from all walks of life are bonding when, in fact, this underscores the phoniness. And what could be further from reality when, out of nowhere, someone shouts to a busload of Philadelphia Eagles fans who happen to be Indian, "Go back to your own country! The Eagles are our team!"

The gags here are about as subtle, revolving around something as stupid as a mispronunciation of Trazodone. The so-called drama includes a manic episode where Cooper freaks out about his missing wedding video. Such scenes are painfully out of place considering the serious tonal shift it requires from broad comedy, but it emphasizes just how bad Cooper is in the lead. It's all the more reason why I'm certainly overrating Lawrence, who at least can read a line without seeming like she's in a high school play.

268. Lincoln

268. (10 Nov) Lincoln (2012, Steven Spielberg)* 51



With their decisively titled Lincoln, Spielberg and company have invited the expectation that this will be the definitive film about the man's life and work. This is no sweeping biopic, however, as it narrowly focuses on his efforts to get the 13th Amendment through the House of Representatives. The confinement in time, along with Tony Kushner's careful selections of scenes, the right dramatic moments, and a surprising amount of humor keep this reined in. But other than a superb performance from Daniel Day-Lewis, this in no other way lives up to an overly ambitious title.

Spielberg attempts to play silly tricks on us, trying to draw suspense out of the final House of Representatives vote, for instance, which plays like we're watching C-SPAN more than anything else. A far more questionable decision comes when we're misled into thinking we're at Ford's Theater at the moment of assassination when in fact we're at another theater entirely.

Kushner understandably has to inject expository dialogue here and there, but it's often shockingly clumsy. Scenes with Sally Field, as a thoroughly unconvincing Mary Todd Lincoln, are full of bits where she explains something that's happened in years past, from her buggy accident to the death of their son. It places on undue burden on Field, who has to enlighten us on critical history that would be far more compelling if it had played out on-screen.

The cast is a mixed bag. Tommy Lee Jones and Lee Pace are the strongest scene stealers. Many smaller roles are downright distracting, notably appearances by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Adam Driver and S. Epatha Merkerson. Work by Michael Stuhlburg and Walton Goggins is shamefully lacking in nuance.

To Lincoln's credit, the film mostly make efforts not to be too much a revisionist history. Only a dopey moment where Mary Todd and Abraham chat about how history will remember them, near the film's end, feels totally unnecessary. Injecting African-American characters into a story that might otherwise have only been about white people granting equality is also well-advised.

In terms of crafts, Janusz Kaminski's cinematography looks like something you'd see on the History Channel. A handful of sets stand out, but the costumes are wholly unremarkable. John Williams has composed a subdued score that reminds me just how shameless and boisterous his work on War Horse was.

205. The Master

205. (16 Sep) The Master (2012, Paul Thomas Anderson)* 76



It's not disappointing to see Paul Thomas Anderson in such similar territory to There Will Be Blood, but the earlier film's such a stronger indictment of religion and a more ordered, compelling narrative. It's still extraordinary to see Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman build off one another's performances with such collaborative spirit. The deprogramming scene, in particular, is an acting master class. Each man's use of charisma to different ends is intriguing enough and there's much to be said for the strength of Anderson's script. However, the film's final third feels sluggish, distractingly on-the-nose when when Amy Adams delivers a monologue in her last scene. Adams seems slightly out of place here, simply not keeping up with her co-stars. With the most limited of screentime, Laura Dern makes a far better impression. It's difficult to imagine anything will come close to matching Mihai Malaimare Jr.'s perfect cinematography.

196. Starman

196. (09 Sep) /Starman/ (1984, John Carpenter)* 60



Starman precariously straddles genres, playing best as a romance, but opting for most of its runtime to be a high stakes chase film. Unfortunately, the high stakes feel disingenuous. When Karen Allen and Jeff Bridges face any sort of trouble, the pair are almost always dependent on the charity of others rather than their own ingenuity. That furthers the theme that mankind is at its best when things are worst, but it also makes for a plot too convenient to be believable.

The best scenes here play up Allen and Bridges's undeniable chemistry. Her emotionally fraught performance balances perfectly alongside his restrained, mannered turn as an alien. Even as the rest of the plot becomes implausible, their relationship feels increasingly real.

066. A Better Life

066. (Feb 25) A Better Life (2011, Chris Weisz) 28



Astonishingly unsubtle in making its politics known, A Better Life almost never lets a scene go by without making an embarrassingly obvious or slanted point about inner city life as a Mexican-American. Immigration issues are especially poorly handled and whenever gang issues are introduced as the film clearly thinks it's a modern day Boyz N the Hood, lacking any of that film's poignancy or impact.

The major problem is that Demian Bichir and José Julián are completely unbelievable as father and son. Julián is a miserable child actor, amplifying the scripting issues. The son has no sense of Mexican culture and the hardship of inner city life for the poor. He's shocked by the idea of several people living in one bedroom, for instance, which is hard to believe considering he attends a school that's entirely Latino. That he never would've encountered this concept before is implausible, but it's even more troubling that the film uses the character as an introductory course to Mexican-American culture. The kid somehow has no support system whatsoever, so he's never encountered uniquely ethnic festivities or had discussions about what it means to be working class striving for something better.

Thinking it's a slice of life drama, A Better Life could hardly feel phonier. Consider the set-up for Bichir's truck getting stolen. It's downright comical how Weisz tries to dupe us with reassuring camera angles so he can spring the theft on us. The Bicycle Thief rip-off that follows is too ridiculous for words.

The film then moves into relatively obnoxious territory following Bichir's arrest. We're meant to sympathize with him because he's being deported and torn away from his son. The film's refusal to acknowledge the illegality of coming to America without documentation is reminiscent of the boneheadedness of The Visitor. Adding a child to further manipulate the situation doesn't work; it just further emphasizes A Better Life's irresponsibility in failing to show the big picture.

Bichir is, at best, competent in a handful of scenes. His big crying scene is unmoving, but that has a great deal to do with his complete lack of chemistry with Julián. They actively make one another worse. Bichir at least knows how to act to the camera, but he in no way merits an Oscar nomination.

469. The Descendants

469. (19 Nov) The Descendants (2011, Alexander Payne)* 44



There are ample opportunities for poignancy in The Descendants, but whenever the film comes close to making an emotional impact it turns into a sitcom. Take for instance a key scene near the film's end where Judy Greer tearfully forgives the comatose woman who tried to steal her husband; at first it's a touching, powerful moment, but before you know it she's somehow playing the scene for laughs. Such jarring, inappropriate moments mar a film that could've been uncomfortable, but relatable in the way Payne's Election and About Schmidt were.

I cannot imagine Payne could've scripted something more amateurish. From the Screenwriting 101 voice-over that introduces the flick to an awful comic relief character named Sid who serves no purpose at all except to offer cheap laughs, it's hard to believe Payne ever wrote Election. To his credit, he gets a very solid performance out of Shailene Woodley. She gives the film whatever humanity it has.

George Clooney is doing what he always does, coasting along and failing whenever presented with a challenge. He has to do some physical comedy when following the man he knows had an affair with his wife. Waddling behind a bush, it's a wonder why anybody lets this man approach acting physically at all. He can't do sight gags to save his life and he sabotages the scene.

A couple veteran performers, Robert Forster and Beau Bridges, are trotted out for no good reason. Both have completely thankless roles. Bridges, for instance, has to be a sounding board during a climactic moment where Clooney makes a major decision that doesn't really impact the plot very much in any direction. The film attempts to balance the two plots of a cheating, comatose wife and a major land deal. They're clumsily connected for convenience's sake, but it's almost astonishing just how little the latter plot matters at all.

By the end, all these characters want to do is eat ice cream and watch March of the Penguins. Sounds decidedly more fun and thought-provoking than a screening of The Descendants.

457. The Artist

457. (06 Nov) The Artist (2011, Michel Hazanavicius)* 48



The first thirty minutes of The Artist are lighter than air, suggesting a rather promising comedy. Then the film turns dramatic and whatever momentum was being gained is lost. A charming series of takes where Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo's flirting interrupts filming on a movie they're making gives way to suicide attempts and house fires and all sort of melodramatic nonsense. The movie simply ceases to be any fun and, considering it's sustaining on the gimmick of being silent, that makes the last three-fourths of the film quite a chore. There are amusing moments along the way, mostly involving an adorable dog. It's one of the frothiest, dopiest movies I've seen in quite some time. I guess that certifies it as a Best Picture contender.

429. Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy

429. (10 Oct) Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011, Tomas Alfredson)* 31



When Oscar bait falls, it falls hard. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is absolutely incoherent and joyless. There's not a spark of humor or wit. It rushes through an abundance of nonsensical plot without ever stringing threads together. The script is about as awful as adaptation gets. These writers think that overcomplicated structure can make up for bad plotting and makes your film "smart." Yikes.

Gary Oldman's Oscar buzz is absolutely hilarious. He doesn't do a single thing in the entire film, maybe saying a total of one hundred words in the film's runtime. If he got a Best Actor nomination, it would be among the most hilarious on record. His face hardly moves and he's aged terribly. There's nothing to fuss over.

Colin Firth is tolerable in a supporting role, but the film is so choppily edited that none of the performers can come off well. While I sincerely doubt Alfredson's ability to direct after seeing his mediocre Let the Right One In, amateurish editing and fundamentally awful scripting surely put this on the wrong track from the start.

Focus Features better gear up to spend millions of dollars on this Oscar campaign if they want to see so much as a nomination for Costume Design or Art Direction. Even that is a major stretch for the nothingness this deserves.

422. Moneyball

422. (24 Sep) Moneyball (2011, Bennett Miller)* 74



With zingers clearly written by Aaron Sorkin and under Bennett Miller's intensely focused direction, Moneyball's clearest fault is its tendency to be too on the nose. Nevertheless, it's captivating filmmaking that defies sports genre cliches. (It's a novelty that Moneyball is about an underdog team that's poised to defy all the odds, but doesn't actually go the distance.) Unlike most films integrating sports or new footage, Miller isn't reliant on them. Instead, he sustains tension or lets us off the hook to craft a bona fide crowd-pleaser. Brad Pitt and Chris Pratt give the film's most accomplished performances.