013. Beasts of the Southern Wild

013. (19 Jan) Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012, Behn Zeitlin) 31



What a terrible bunch of Oscar nominations! You could point a camera at most petulant children and get a variation on Quvenzhané Wallis' performance, if you can call it that. Nearly as bad is the screenplay nod. Most dialogue, like a sea captain telling Hushpuppy he saves the wrappers for his chicken biscuits to remember he was a different person each time he unwrapped them, is downright embarrassing. Benh Zeitlin's nomination is bad, but at least makes sense as the film is clearly over-directed. He intercuts shaky, but occasionally visually interesting shots with clumsy visual metaphors (i.e. the titular beasts, melting glaciers).

I'm not one to use the phrase "poverty porn," but from the sadsack opening shot of a trailer onward, it certainly fits. Beasts barely introduces its ill-defined ensemble in their bleak world before jumping from scene to scene with no sense of coherence. Most bits are grating, but the inability to establish settings or story gets exhausting by the time the gang try to escape a hospital where they're being fed and given medical treatment. Still, more of a "Best Picture" than Les Miserables.

334. Amour

334. (27 Dec) Amour (2012, Michael Haneke) 60



I'm reminded of the line from Bergman's Face to Face where Liv Ullmann watches her grandmother sitting by her grandfather's deathbed and laments, "For a brief moment, I realized that love embraces everything. Even death." That more probing, albeit obvious work tackling similar subject matter is far more moving and fascinating than the overly restrained Amour. That's not to say this doesn't have its own share of obvious imagery or commentary, with one particularly dopey dream sequence. Nevertheless, this is certain to resonate with anyone familiar with the hardships of elder care. Few films have shown the frustrating, debilitating nature of aging so artfully. Haneke knows very well what he's doing here, but this seems like a minor work for a man who's capable of so much more than a slow, sorrowful character study. Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are underwhelming in their roles.

312. Django Unchained

312. (19 Dec) Django Unchained (2012, Quentin Tarantino) 75



Coming off the lean, perfectly structured Inglourious Basterds, it's not really a surprise or much a disappointment that Django Unchained isn't on par. Mostly, it's the absence of Sally Menke as film editor that's deeply felt, since this doesn't have the sharpness her collaborations with Tarantino had. But this is nevertheless engaging and exhilarating. To his credit, the substantial runtime isn't felt for a second due to clever scripting that crafts believable relationships and allows on-screen time to pass fluidly.

Christoph Waltz is certainly the standout here, though Leonardo DiCaprio sinks his teeth into a menacing role. Samuel L. Jackson, offering a variation on his same old schtick, is impossibly fun to watch chew scenery. Jamie Foxx and Kerry Washington could have been recast midway through the film without anyone noting their absence.

Robert Richardson's cinematography is outstanding, as are the sets and costumes. Oscar nominations for most technical aspects are in order.

It took two viewings of Inglourious Basterds to fully appreciate this, so I have every intention of revisiting Django. It's so dense and thoughtful, full of nuanced arcs, all the while being quite reverential to its genre. There's a great deal to take in on a single go-around, and surely much reward in a second or third attempt.

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.

305. Zero Dark Thirty

305. (08 Dec) Zero Dark Thirty (2012, Kathryn Bigelow)* 83



Terse, intelligent and exhilarating, it's hard not to be a little in awe of Zero Dark Thirty's confidence and competence. From the opening series of scenes about torture, it's clear this is constructing a thoughtful, even defining dialogue on the limitless complexity of the war on terror. Offering no easy answers and sticking us with an unsociable, obsessive main character, this has all the urgency and understanding that's been lacking from post-9/11 works about terror (e.g. United 93).

Jessica Chastain's Maya is the perfect fit for this narrative. From her steely resolve to her all-consuming need to kill bin Laden, she's endlessly fascinating. Her steady, rather devastating arc is done so much justice by Chastain, one can only pray she takes home the Best Actress Oscar.

The sheer leanness of Zero Dark Thirty is perhaps what it's easiest to marvel at. Mark Boal's The Hurt Locker script was laden with filler scenes, but there's not a wasted moment here. It's all in service to the theme of military intelligence coming at a high price for all involved, and that even good information can mean nothing without intuition and judgment.

The final sequence at the bin Laden compound should be enough to assure this a couple Oscars for sound work and a deserving nomination for Greig Fraser's cinematography. Alexandre Desplat's score is his umpteenth stroke of genius from recent years.

280. Life of Pi

280. (20 Nov) Life of Pi (2012, Ang Lee)* 49



Ang Lee regresses with Life of Pi, exploring his trademark themes of repression and grief in a most literal sense. Even his obvious fades and a reliance on cheap imagery like a slow teardrop streaming down someone's face suggest the aesthetic of a director less developed than Lee. Claudio Miranda's cinematography and the visual effects are undeniably stunning, but they serve a narrative that's never emotionally involving or particularly interesting. David Magee's screenplay is a redundancy since he employed all the same tricks, to similarly hackish effect, in Finding Neverland. The ending serves as a ten-minute third act, dissolving all enchantment away from Life of Pi once and for all.

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.

247. Argo

247. (13 Oct) Argo (2012, Ben Affleck)* 76



Ben Affleck continues to be one of the most consistent, exciting directors working today with Argo. Though this tense, taut thriller plays exquisitely throughout, it's hard not to relish the details. From the old Warner Bros. logo that opens the film to the outstanding production design to an ensemble all but destined to win a SAG Award, Affleck manages to barely falter in a film precariously straddling genres. The comedic bits set in Los Angeles are admittedly very funny, but some of that scripting is too on-the-nose in a way that's not in keeping with the more organic feel of the thriller segments. Alan Arkin's crowd-pleasing performance is especially out of step with the powerful work of the Houseguests. All the plots wrap up a little too tidily, as well, but it's too satisfying to matter much.

057. Trader Horn

057. (19 Feb) Trader Horn (1931, W.S. Van Dyke) 42



Along with The House of Rothschild, it's hard to imagine there's a Best Picture nominee that's aged quite this badly in terms of racist depictions. The African tribespeople here are described as "children" and "savages," which is scarcely a surprising perspective since this is from 1931. However, as this could've been a simple adventure film focused on the exoticism of the African landscape, it is rather jarring that it's so determined to make nonstop racial jabs at the natives.

Trader Horn's clear strength is how it repeatedly becomes a creature feature where the ensemble are nearly killed by wildlife. An especially exciting sequence has them firing upon a couple dozen crocodiles. There's also an amazingly adorable scene where they discover a lion cub. The parade of African animals is a novelty, but even that's marred by the killing of a rhinoceros.

008. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

008. (05 Jan) /Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close/ (2011, Stephen Daldry)* 82



On a second viewing, I can truly appreciate what powerful filmmaking this is. The emotional weight Daldry lends to both simple scenes, like Thomas Horn's scenes opposite Jeffrey Wright and Viola Davis, and the powerhouse ones like Horn's with Bullock. It's a rarity when fine acting, focused direction, and technical achievement combine like this. Chris Menges' cinematography and Alexandre Desplat's score are especially wonderful.

The film itself is repeatedly an outright devastating experience. I can scarcely recall being more moved by situational sadness or finely drawn connections between characters. Daldry continues to be the most accomplished of emotion-driven directors working today.

492. The Tree of Life

491. (11 Dec) /The Tree of Life/ (2011, Terrence Malick)* 94

486. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

486. (07 Dec) Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (2011, Stephen Daldry)* 82

478. War Horse

478. (24 Nov) War Horse (2011, Steven Spielberg)* 44



In its first act, it seems War Horse is trying to look and feel like a '40s countryside drama in the vein of Lassie Come Home. There are obligatory elements like an animal that can't be kept and a farm that's at risk of being lost. But where a '40s film like The Yearling would've matched glossiness with emotional impact, War Horse is more tonally akin to a '70s Disney feature. It slides in utterly surreal comic relief like a goose that nips at people's heels while it should be fleshing out characters.

The fundamental failing of the film -- aside from the plot being so incidental and uninteresting -- is that it never allows us to forge relationships with the characters. The horse is the only constant in the film. People come and go from his life. Tom Hiddleston has the most thankless role of all as an English officer who dies before we get even the faintest hint of his backstory. Spielberg's inability to contextualize the death of a significant supporting character at the start of a war is disturbing, and he does it at least a couple more times throughout the course of the film.

The only series of scenes not centered around the horse is where Jeremy Irvine, who trained has an unhealthy attachment to him, is his brief stint in the war where he sees a little bit of combat before being blinded by gas. Neither he nor any other human in the film gains insight into the hardship of war. The very final shot has the horse staring off into the sunset after returning home. It's a totally bizarre closing shot, as the lessons of war's cruelty have all been learned by the horse and not the humans. That might be impactful if this was an animated film where the horse can talk and pontificate, but there are enormous battle sequences and lives lost. It's a bit too serious to not articulate any big themes.

The inevitable conclusion where the boy and his horse are reunited is unabashedly contrived and manipulative. Oscar voters are sure to weep at the silly moment, but I was too exhausted from the preceding and present ridiculousness to care.

The cast is, not surprisingly, totally wasted. No one comes close to making an impression except Emily Watson. She's acting in a more serious, involving movie than everybody else.

The crafts are almost shockingly unremarkable. The cinematography is lacking as the film is supposed to have scope, but there's no memorable imagery to be found. John Williams' score is perhaps his most pounding and dreadful. He emphasizes every little aciton and movement, determined to turn this dull film into something exciting through sheer will. It will likely dominate the craft awards at the Oscars, but I've seen Spielberg do these exact same battles on a grander, more effective scale.

470. Midnight in Paris

470. (20 Nov) Midnight in Paris (2011, Woody Allen) 54



There's clumsiness in both the film's key plot device and the way famous individuals who populated 1920's Paris are introduced. Though warmth and charm carry a handful of scenes, it's burdened by inobservant observances like no time period recognizing its own significance. Owen Wilson's character wants to take his chances with an entrancing young woman in the past rather than his clearly dreadful fiancee in the present; that sort of deck-stacking prevents the film from feeling romantic or insightful. There are also some smug moments like Wilson pitching a scenario to Luis Buñuel.

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.

455. Hugo

455. (05 Nov) Hugo (2011, Martin Scorsese)* 57



There are moments of fun and whimsy here that suggest Scorsese doing a kid's movie was not a total misfire. But the film itself can be deadly dull, making it unsuitable for younger viewers. It's also hard to believe they'd enjoy the last act's ode to Georges Melies. Broad supporting characters and their distracting subplots really derail the film. (A train in a dream within a dream literally derails around the same point the film itself does.) When an obligatory chase scene takes place late in the film, it's clear this has outstayed its welcome. Nevertheless, the crafts are lovely and Ben Kingsley is quite good.

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.

408. The Help

408. (03 Sep) The Help (2011, Tate Taylor)* 54



The Help is so cloying and manipulative, it's almost implausible a performance like Viola Davis' can exist within it. The film simply doesn't deserve her, as Davis gives a performance with such grace and nuance the rest of the cast looks amateurish in her wake. The bug-eyed Octavia Spencer, for instance, is positively exhausting to watch, playing broad comedy as if she wandered out of a TBS sitcom. I'm unclear how both of these ladies can be considered on par in Oscar buzz.

The film itself is so shamelessly tear-jerking, sentimental, and crowd-pleasing, it seems destined for a Best Picture nomination. That's an excessive honor, to be sure, for a film that overplays a poopy pie joke and derails in its unrelentingly upbeat finale. (A senile Sissy Spacek saying she can only remember that she was put in a nursing home by Bryce Dallas Howard and that her daughter ate poop is where the gag has clearly been beaten to death.) The lengthy run-time is felt in the last hour when an out of nowhere argument erupts between Emma Stone and Chris Lowell. For the most part, The Help is well-structured enough to maintain interest, but the need to tie up loose ends with the last few scenes is the film's undoing.

Sharen Davis' costumes would be a worthy awards competitor. A plaid jacket Lowell wears in his second scene with Stone is an outstanding costumes and all of the work here easily outshines her forgettable garbs from Ray and Dreamgirls. She rivals Anna B. Sheppard as one of those costume designers with no range, but she's in her wheelhouse with The Help.