From my Oscar blog post:
Don’t get me wrong. I was delighted that a blockbuster action movie on this scale should demand such a high level of intellectual engagement from its audience and be an enormous global hit – fourth highest-grossing film of the year, and the number one out of those with original scripts. But it’s still an action movie. For all the film’s ideas and switching between different levels of perception and reality, there is never any emotional engagement, and this is a serious weakness in Christopher Nolan’s writing.
His debut film, the little-seen Following, was a straightforward noir story set in contemporary London, but it’s gimmick was its achronic script. Once that was removed, the rest of the story was tedious in the extreme, even with some unexpected twists and a 69-minute running time. The sudden swerve in the last five minutes should have been a “Whaaatttt???” moment. Instead it was “...Oh”.
Inception is the first film since then he’s written alone, and dazzling though it may be, challenging though it’s audience may find it, it’s just an exercise in mind games that many have played before in other media, most prominently Philip K. Dick’s novel “Ubik”, which has a near-identical premise, albeit a different plot. In short, Nolan can send me to Limbo, but he can’t make me care.
9. I Love You Philip Morris.
A bizarre but fascinating character study from the writers of Bad Santa, which struggled to find a release date in the United States. Jim Carrey plays Russell, a life-long law abiding citizen, who comes to a moment of self-actualisation after a car crash and leaves his wife and family to embrace his true identity as a flamboyant gay man. However, he finds the gay lifestyle prohibitively expensive, and after plying his trade as a conman, is caught and imprisoned, whereupon he falls in love with his cellmate, played by Ewan McGregor.
What unfolds from here is a surreal mixture of prison break drama, sensitive romance and black farce, with Carrey's typically physical performance matched to an equally eccentric character, meaning that it never feels too hammy. McGregor, in contrast, plays Philip with deadpan sweetness, bowled over by the attention of the outgoing and devoted Russell. Their relationship is truly tested when Philip is released, leaving Russell to concoct increasingly surreal escape plans.
The film saw its release repeatedly postponed in the US due, allegedly, to the explicit sex scenes - the reveal that Russell is gay is offered in the most in-your-face manner currently legal in British cinemas, and the film rarely misses a moment to attack the audience's preconceptions. But if you can look past that, or aren't too bothered by it, there is a charming, funny story of star-cross'd lovers - which happens to be true.
From the blog:
It’s a good film, and one that deserves the rounds of applause that have been greeting in British screenings. But it’s still a schematic, formulaic picture, filled with the kinds of elements that appeal to awards voters, especially American ones. The British monarchy is regarded with fond affection by many of our cousins; one of those funny quirks that separates us, apart from three thousand miles of brine. Films about them always go down well in the US, as do stories of overcoming adversity, beating disability and standing up for what needs to be done. One could view the film as a Merchant-Ivory take on High Noon.
It’s the performances that make the film stand out, and the only thing that will stop Colin Firth collecting the award for Best Actor is a sudden fatal heart attack. He adds a convincing emotional frailty to a story that needs an unpredictable element, and it neatly counters Geoffrey Rush staying just the right side of the ham counter. If The King’s Speech wins the top prize, even if it sweeps the board, I won’t be too miffed. Like I said, it’s an enjoyable film, slickly produced and telling an engaging story neatly without resorting to obvious manipulative tactics.
7. 127 Hours.
How does one follow a global smash which had something to say to every culture in the world? You make a film about one man in one place. You tell his story, and let the viewers respond for themselves. And then mount a production of Frankenstein.
Aron Rolston's story of survival by force of will is another on this list that is so strange it could only be true, as he finds himself trapped in the middle of nowhere, his right arm jammed under a boulder. His psychological and spiritual journey takes the place of any physical movement, and the result is a refreshingly honest portrait of a man brought low by nature, unable to use what civilisation has given him to escape.
As the days drag towards a full week, he sees his store of food and water run low and starts to mentally shift away from the gully. He slides into his own memories, has visions of a possible future and slips into a dream state with its own Hollywood ending, before snapping back to the harsh reality. James Franco is on screen for every second of the film, slowly peeling away Aron's layers to reveal a man fuelled by his own sense of pride and self-satisfaction, whose dwindling stock forces him to take a final, drastic decision.
Franco's performance is remarkable, a fully-rounded picture of a man in crisis, and is supported by a thoughtful script and Danny Boyle's restless, probing camera. It's an impressive achievement.
6. True Grit.
What is there to say about the Coen Brothers that has not been said before? The last remake they attempted, The Ladykillers, was widely reviled for despoiling an Ealing classic, although I rather enjoyed the cheerily morbid Southern Gothic approach, seasoned with some ripe dialogue and a return to comedy for the much-missed Tom Hanks, chewing the scenery as a hybrid of Colonel Sanders and Krusty the Clown.
True Grit is an altogether different proposition, offering a dark story o enforced adulthood as 14-year-old Mattie Ross hires a booze-soaked US Marshal and ex-gunfighter to track down the man who killed her father. Jeff Bridges mines "Rooster" Cogburn for all the character can offer, imperceptibly shifting from a broken-down smart aleck to a vengeful crusader and unlikely mentor. The Coens' finely tuned ear raises its wordy head with some rich, flavoursome dialogue that rolls around the mouth, but the show belongs to Hailee Steinfeld.
Making her film debut, she immediately commands the attention of the audience and the respect of her elders by brokering the horses her father left for money and negotiating for cheaper funeral arrangements. By the time she encounters Cogburn, we are wondering in what form she will leave him after chewing him out. A coming of age story of a peculiar style, authentic in tone and colour.
5. The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans.
Werner Herzog does like his obsessive characters, and few are more haunted than Nicholas Cage's cop on a Bayou beat. Addicted to pain medication after he rescued a crook during Katrina, he spends his time scoring hits, shaking down lowlifes, making time with his escort girlfriend and occasionally doing some police work as his existence lurches further and further off the rails.
When it was released I described this as a merger of Requiem for a Dream and The Naked Gun, and I stand by this assessment. The former's woozy, junky's-eye view of the world is merged with a taste for the ridiculous, as Cage hallucinates lizards on a coffee table during a stake-out and attempts to make good by taking down a drug lord with the aid of his lucky crack pipe.
The film contrives to inspire laughter with Cage, a cheerily amoral centre to the story, itself an exploration of living with fear of consequences and riddled with surreal images like a break-dancing ghost or Cage emerging from behind a door, in the middle of shaving, to menace an elderly informant while looking like a strung-out vampire.
The film's conclusion is remarkably efficient, with myriad plot threads being closed off in post-modern fashion("Great news!") and Cage ultimately back where he started., proof if proof be need be that lessons are rarely learned.
4. The Joneses.
This was, seemingly, a tough sell, not helped by the sparse and poorly-rendered advertising campaign, but this masked an interesting, unexpected gem.
A new couple has moved into a picturesque suburban neighbourhood. They have two teenage children, all the latest mod cons and seem to have the perfect life. Soon, they're hobnobbing with the local glitterati and showing off the material fruits of their lifestyle. The audience, however, suspects somethings up when we see Steve Jones sleeping alone - and his daughter climb into his bed. Because they're not a family. They are salespeople by stealth, employed by an agency to get America spending.
A sharp, witty and acidic view on the West's obsession with possessions and visible status, and the corrosive effect on human relationships, this was the overlooked film of the year. Demi Moore as the buttoned-down corporate stooge shows the steel that got her back into the limelight, while David Duchovny is simply the character we've come to enjoy from Californication and the less serious episodes of The X Files, the louche and occasionally-successful ladies man with a conscience - a conscience that starts to prickle as the Joneses' exhortations to their new-found friends starts to conflict with the economic downturn.
Certainly worth your time, if not your undivided attention, and benefiting from an excellent supporting turn from Michael McKean as a man who simply can't say no. Ever.
3. Toy Story 3.
From the blog:
Toy Story 3 is a new high-water mark for Pixar and the best Second Sequel of all time. I honestly don’t know of anyone who has seen the film and not loved it. It’s a phenomenal piece of work with a multitude of layers, offering children another fun adventure with the gang, teenagers a chance to reflect on their lost childhoods and adults to see a metaphor for death and the afterlife, but without ever becoming heavy-handed or bogged down in subtext. It’s characters who have always come first at Pixar – this, by the way, is the reason they are so successful – and no scene in the company’s catalogue proves this better than one particular moment in this film. Those who have seen it know the one I mean. Everything is expressed with simple gestures, without a word being spoken. It’s incredibly powerful, and only reinforces my opinion that there is nothing beyond Pixar’s reach. Not even infinity itself.
2. The Social Network.
A recent survey found that the average age of the voting members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences – the people who decide who gets what – is 57. 57. There’s been some concern that a hip, youthful film like The Social Network would struggle to engage with older viewers, but the film’s greatest strength is that you only need to understand the most fundamental basics of Facebook to appreciate the story of its creation.
It’s a classic tale of flawed genius, pride, greed, friendship and betrayal, told against a backdrop that has only existed for a few years. Another commentator (What? I can call myself a commentator if I like. I can call myself Susan If I want, but it might attract a different clientele) noted that it was the first major film that could not have existed before the 21st century. I’d say that you could have made this story about the inventors of the Penny Post, but it would not have the immediacy, vitality and relevance that are endowed in it by Aaron Sorkin’s engaging script and David Fincher’s masterful direction. Fincher was previously nominated for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a heartstring-tugging crowdpleaser and the worst film of his career – yes, including Alien3 – so it’s a pleasure to see him getting recognition for a piece of work worthy of his ability and talent. The prize is his.
So, the best film of 2010. Desk-slapping drumroll please...
1. Four Lions.
Only Chris Morris, the most provocative and fearless satirist of the last few decades, would find a group of suicide bombers to be an appropriate source of comedy. Only Chris Morris, arguably the most skilled and inventive comedy writer since colour television, would make such an idea work so well.
Morris has stated in interviews that he saw the same kind of dynamic in terrorist cells as in five-a-side football teams, and this form of traditional character conflict forms an access point to the story, as four men from Sheffield attempt to wage jihad against the forces of Western imperialism, Toploader and high street pharmacists. The brilliance of Morris's writing, in collaboration with Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong - themselves experts in the dark humour of the male psyche after seven series of Peep Show - is to show the men's absolute devotion to a cause and their struggle to relate it real life. Barry, a white convert, suggests bombing a mosque to radicalise moderate Muslims, and this plan is compared to punching oneself in the face. Barry quickly shows how serious he is, and winds up with a nosebleed.
Omar, the group's leader, attempts to explain his struggle to his young son by using The Lion King as an analogy. Not only does the boy accept his father's patient and encouraging explanation, he embraces the philosophy wholeheartedly, becoming excited about his father entering heaven "before his head hits the ceiling". The film repeatedly overturns cliches and stereotypes, with Omar the most Westernised of the group, chatting to his wife on equal terms and visiting her at her work, while his brother, a much more traditional Muslim, advocates peaceful interaction with other faiths, but still finds himself targeted by the police.
The film's climax, ostensibly set at the London Marathon, underlines the futility of all sides, with Omar attempting to talk down dimwitted cell member Waz, who's simply to trusting and easily-led, while police snipers argue about whether or not the Honey Monster is a Wookiee. Comedy starts to look more out-of-place than ever as Morris shows, in microcosm, how the relationship between cultural spheres has decayed. One senior figure, played by a cameoing Benedict Cumberbatch, confirms that the authorities are just as hopeless as the would-be bombers, a group that continually tries and fails to understand who they're fighting for, what they're fighting, or why they're fighting at all.
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