Page 1 of 3
Critically acclaimed movies tend to bunch up near the end of
the year, as distributors jockey for Oscar momentum. And 2012 certainly
has plenty of upcoming films we’re excited about—Jeff Nichols’
Mud, Josh Radnor’s
Liberal Arts, Steven Spielberg’s
Lincoln, PT Anderson’s
The Master, Ang Lee’s
Life of Pi, Tom Hooper’s
Les Miserables, and Peter Jackson’s
The Hobbit,
to name just a few. Oh, and Christopher Nolan has some kind of small
superhero movie coming out in a couple of weeks. But 2012 has also
blessed us with an unusually large number of notable films in its first
six months. It’s a development we whole-heartedly support. Here are our
favorites, from a lush documentary about sushi to a completely new kind
of horror film, from a tiny Belgian character study to a superhero
blockbuster. Here are the 25 Best Movies of 2012, released between
January and June.
25. Blue Like Jazz
Blue Like Jazz follows young Donald Miller (Marshall Allman) in
a tale of coming of age and crisis of faith, as he breaks free from his
fundamentalist Christian life in Texas to explore the larger world via
Portland, Ore. Donald works hard to separate himself from his past. He
turns down the Bible college he was planning to attend and rebels by
enrolling at Reed University. At this notoriously God-less school, he
seeks freedom in booze, drugs, activism and some PG-rated hedonism. He
struggles to fit into a world that is suddenly much bigger and scarier
than he’d managed- all the while he grappling with the guilt of his
background and faith. Led by the superb Allman, the cast shines.
Allman’s Donald somehow maintains a boyish charm even as he grows more
cynical and lost. As social activist Penny, Claire Holt deftly juggles
both genuine optimism and self-importance as the girl who is always out
saving the world while everyone else nurses hangovers. Tania Raymonde’s
performance as Lauryn, Donald’s lesbian best friend, manages to be both
caustic yet somehow warm. This adaption of Miller’s essays is as
entertaining and exuberant as one could possibly desire in a
coming-of-age story. But director/writer Steve Taylor, co-writer Ben
Pearson and Donald Miller are fully aware of the reputation Christianity
has in contemporary America, and they neither deny or shy away from it.
As a result, Blue Like Jazz deserves a serious look from audiences
outside its target demographic.
—Clay Steakley
24. Sound of Noise
In the Swedish film
Sound of Noise, directed by Ola Simonsson
and Johannes Stjärne Nilsson, six rogue, experimental musicians
coordinate four guerilla performances throughout their city in an
attempt to free its inhabitants from the stodgy tyranny of classical
music. These six drummers perform avant-garde movements from their
revolutionary score, “Music for One City and Six Drummers”, in different
locations utilizing everyday objects—a heart monitor, a shredding
machine and even power lines, for example—in order to create a musical
performance like no other. The film takes a whimsical and youthful
approach to storytelling while also presenting a totally original idea.
Though the stories focus on a single string of events and a small group
of individuals, as a whole they are able to delve into and aptly dissect
hugely abstract ideas such as art, personal expression, and family
dynamics without reducing them into trite aphorisms or belittling their
complexity.
Sound of Noise is a delight from start to finish.
—Emily Kirkpatrick
23. A Bag of Hammers
A Bag of Hammers is like the funny guy at parties. He’s not
perfect, maybe a bit of a lush and flabby around the middle, but you
love having him around. The feature debut from Director Brian Crano
follows two cheeky criminals as they steal cars from funeral goers. Ben
(Jason Ritter) and Alan (Jake Sandvig) are best friends and felons,
sharing the wit and maturity of teenagers as well as a mysteriously dark
past. When an out-of-town woman and her son rent the house next door,
the young men find themselves quickly drawn into a wholly different
sense of morality as it becomes clear that the 12-year-old boy, Kelsey
(Chandler Canterbury), is being badly neglected by his high-strung
mother, Lynette (Carrie Preston). At first, the friends try not to be
concerned and shrug it off as “none of our business.” It’s not long,
however, before Kelsey becomes their business, and they have to become
role models overnight.
A Bag of Hammers is well shot and well
acted. There are truly brilliant scenes that occur through out the
film—watch for a particular hard-hitting monologue from Ritter to
Chandler Canterbury’s Kelsey in the diner about two-thirds of the way
in—and these are what give the film its shine.
—Maryann Koopman Kelly
22. The Intouchables
Based on a real-life relationship, the odd couple of this film is
composed of Philippe (François Cluzet), a millionaire paralyzed in a
paragliding accident, and Driss (César-winning Omar Sy), a street hood
by way of Senegal. White, black; rich, poor; immobile and extremely
animated—Philippe and Driss are opposite in nearly every way. Their
paths would never even cross were it not for the paperwork Driss needs
signed to show he’s looking for work in order to qualify for state
assistance. Tired of waiting to interview for a job he surely won’t get,
he storms into Philippe’s office and slaps the form on his desk. Unable
to move from the neck down, Philippe of course can’t fill it out, so he
asks Driss to return in the morning. Impressed with Driss’
forthrightness and the fact that he actually comes back the next day,
Philippe offers him a job. It’s the best thing to happen to both of
them. Energetically paced by editor Dorian Rigal-Ansous and scored by
Ludovico Einaudi, the immensely enjoyable Intouchables hinges on this
central relationship but also broaches social taboos with a politically
incorrect wit that flays what’s considered off-limits: socioeconomic
disparity, race relations and especially physical disability. The
filmmakers aren’t afraid to “go there,” and that they do elevates the
sincerely feel-good material to larger cultural relevance.
—Annlee Ellingson
21. Under African Skies
Director Joe Berlinger’s fascinating, immersive documentary
Under African Skies
celebrates the 25th anniversary of Paul Simon’s landmark Graceland
album and also examines the firestorm of controversy that it ignited. In
1985, Paul Simon traveled to Johannesburg, South Africa, to meet and
record with the black South African musicians who had become a kind of
inspirational obsession for him. Nine days in South Africa and
subsequent sessions in New York and London culminated in the five times
Platinum, Grammy-winning cultural touchstone Graceland. While the
album’s musical excellence was nearly universally praised, there were
accusations that Simon’s pastiche of South African music with his own
melodies might be more a case of cultural imperialism than of
collaboration. To his credit, Berlinger presents all arguments
impartially and leaves the viewer to come to his or her own terms with
Simon’s motives and actions. The emotional core of this film, however,
is the jubilant, gorgeous music and the musicians who created it. We are
presented with electrifying performance footage, both from 1985 and
2011, of Simon and the true center of the Graceland sound—guitarist Ray
Phiri, incomparable bassist Baghiti Khumalo, and drummer Isaac Mtshali.
What unfolds is remarkable. By film’s finish, when Tambo and Simon
embrace, it is evident that, differences aside, at the end we are left
with the music. And the music is damn good.
—Clay Steakley
We see a lot of movies, most of them bad. So it’s always a joy to
remember the good ones, and 2012 has already had plenty—from a
documentary about sushi to a new kind of horror film, the latest from a
tiny Belgian film to a superhero blockbuster. Here are the 25 Best
Movies of 2012, released between January and June.
20. The Raid: Redemption
The Raid: Redemption is the type of hyper-violent action film
that makes grown men wince (and then chuckle) and their girlfriends and
wives wince, roll their eyes (and then wonder what is wrong with men?!)
Yes, guys, it’s that good. Directed by Gareth Evans,
The Raid: Redemption
is the second film by Evans to star Indonesian martial artist Iko Uwais
and feature the traditional Indonesian martial art of Pencak silat. The
plot is simple. Rookie policeman Rama (Uwais) is part of a 20-man
assault squad attempting to stealthily enter an apartment building and
arrest the ruthless crime lord who controls it. Things begin to go wrong
as soon as the squad makes it too far in to retreat. From there, all
hell breaks loose—and stays really, really loose—the rest of the way as
Rama tries to survive the waves of gun-toting, machete-wielding and
generally inhospitable building inhabitants trying to kill him.
The Raid
is a study of all the places on a human body one can shoot, stab and
punch- and in this “study” the movie leaves its mark. Though its fight
sequences are hardly exercises in gritty realism, they nonetheless
possess a rawness—a tendency toward fatality—that’s not often seen on
the Big Screen. As for flaws, it’s hard to find many in
The Raid: Redemption
without resorting to a questioning of the value of the genre in
general—and the excessive violence in particular. But considered on its
own merits and judged by how well Evans and Uwais do what they set out
to do,
The Raid: Redemption delivers. Besides, there’s really just not much to be said against a film that blows up so many people using a refrigerator.
—Michael Burgin
19. Carol Channing: Larger Than Life
Carol Channing is such an endearing, sharp, funny personality that
director Dori Berinstein could easily have just thrown her camera on a
tripod, have the 90-year-old musical theater legend spin anecdotes for
an hour and a half, and had a great documentary. Thankfully, what she
made is even better. From Hello, Dolly composer Jerry Herman to Debbie
Reynolds to Chita Rivera to a professional Carol Channing impersonator,
the film paints an affectionate portrait of a performer who so loves and
embodies musical comedy, that if it hadn’t existed before she did,
surely her elemental talent would have summoned and created it for her
out of pixie dust, brass, feathers, plywood, and of course, diamonds.
Channing effortlessly keeps herself off the pedestal of celebrity and
draws anyone into her sphere with the congeniality of an old friend.
It’s easy to see how everyone from chorus boys to presidents is enamored
by her. And then there’s husband Harry Kullijian.The two are
ridiculously adorable and clearly overjoyed to be together again after
all this time. Tragically, Kullijian passed away in December. All the
more luck, then, that we have this small but moving document of the
couple so we can share some of their spark for just a little bit.
Carol’s childhood sweetheart, reunited in marriage after 70-odd years
apart. Carol Channing: Larger than Life is like a warm cinematic hug
from Shubert Alley, not to be missed by anyone with even the remotest
passing interest in Channing or Broadway history.
—Dan Kaufman
18. How To Grow A Band
A good film—and a good band, for that matter—can be much like The Wizard
of Oz’s smoke-billowing wizard. If everything goes just right, if the
curtain doesn’t get pulled back, then the audience can find itself part
of a great and powerful experience. That said, in
How To Grow A Band,
director Mark Meatto proves that, sometimes, a look behind the curtain
can yield just as amazing of an experience. Meatto followed the
folk-formal-fusion-but-don’t-you dare-call-it-bluegrass band Punch
Brothers for two years: on tour, in studio, on the street, in the living
room, in comfort and in flux. The portrait of the band that emerges is
clear and precise. We come to know the band so well that the music is
comfortingly familiar by film’s end; we come to the know the band
members so well that we can hear each individual personality filter
through each song. Meatto is careful to give the audience more than
concert footage. Instead, he treats the band as a character in and of
itself—with its own personality and idiosyncrasies, up days and down
days, energy and exhaustion. There’s also commentary by such
heavyweights as cellist Yo Yo Ma and John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin
(himself an accomplished mandolin player).
How To Grow A Band
is evenly paced, seamlessly edited, visually rich and musically
exceptional. Meatto reminds us of the gritty truths of touring—we see
rehearsals and jam sessions in Thile’s small living room, miles covered
by mini-van, tiny dressing rooms stained with graffiti, and the endless
details of promotion and marketing. On screen, there is Punch Brothers,
the band. The effortless movie-making is simply not apparent—just sit
back and enjoy the show.
—Joan Radell
17. Boy
Boy isn’t exactly a comedy, even though it will make you laugh,
and it isn’t a feel-good movie. It’s a movie about crushing failure,
personal identity, and the possibility of hope as experienced in one
Māori family, circa 1984.
Boy opens with an 11-year-old kid
(James Rolleston) giving a school report titled “Who Am I?”, his voice
speaking over a montage of scenes from his life. It begins with a Māori
greeting: “Kia ora. My name is Boy, and welcome to my interesting world.
My favorite person is Michael Jackson. He is the best singer and dancer
in the world.” Boy’s report moves from comedy to tenderness as he
begins to talk about his own dad, Alamein: “My dad’s not here right now.
He’s a busy man…When he comes home, he’s taking me to see Michael
Jackson,
LIVE. The end.” The students are
utterly bored and the teacher is smoking a cigarette out an open window.
Soon we also discover the lie of his father’s life—as another student
whispers, “Yo man, you’re a liar. You’re dad’s not overseas. He’s in
jail for robbery … Same cell block as my dad.” There’s an utterly
serious core to
Boy that could be missed among all the Michael
Jackson references. This is especially evident in the character of
Alamein—whose true purpose in returning home, we discover, is not to
reconnect with his sons, nor even to visit the grave of his wife, but to
dig in a field for stolen money he’s buried. What separates
Boy
from other movies in its category is its child-centeredness. These
kids’ fantasy world, which includes not only Boy’s humorous revisions
but Rocky’s belief that he has magical powers and can change reality
around him simple by raising his hand and concentrating, creates just
the right amount of irony to make the much harsher “real” world
believable. The movie’s power lies in how the irony collapses.
Increasingly, viewers find themselves seeing the world through the
children’s eyes. We suspect it might be more emotionally true than the
adult way of looking at the world. At least it’s more hopeful, and
that’s exactly what we, like Alamein, need.
—Aaron Belz
16. Your Sister’s Sister
Improvisation must be alternately liberating and frightening for actors.
It certainly can provide fresh results and lead to a realism that is
otherwise hard to harness. Alternatively, dialogue can lack polish, and a
film’s structure may be too loose and meandering. In the case of Lynn
Shelton’s newest, Your Sister’s Sister, the outcome is mixed. The film
begins with friends sharing drinks and fondly remembering Tom, a
recently deceased buddy. Tom’s brother, Jack (Mark Duplass), ruins the
memorial by angrily describing him in an unflattering light. Tom’s
ex-girlfriend, Iris (Emily Blunt), pulls Jack aside and proposes he
recoup in isolation at her family’s island house. Jack arrives at the
secluded destination but discovers an attractive, barely dressed woman.
Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt) is the lesbian sister of Iris, mourning the
breakup of a seven-year relationship. Both grieving losses, Jack and
Hannah connect on the first night and drink too much, leading to an
awkward sexual encounter. Based on this film and her last, Shelton seems
interested in exploring jealousy and rivalry, both topics that are rife
with possibility. The cast certainly seems to have fun with the
material but while their improvisation gives the dialogue life, it also
lacks a certain refinement that could’ve come from more time or a single
hand.That said, it’s an intimate drama on a scale that few actors the
stature of Emily Blunt venture to participate in. It’s a rarity to see a
female-centric film in American cinema today, nonetheless a good one.
—Will McCord
15. Bernie
Let’s talk about Richard Linklater, the man who just doesn’t seem to
care what you think. Or, to be more specific, what his critics think.
And that’s a good thing. From
Slackers, to
Dazed and Confused,
A Scanner Darkly and
Before Sunrise-
the pattern in Linklater’s creativity is that there is no pattern. And
now he gives us a murder story, in a surprisingly simple but cleverly
subtle package. Bernie is as much about the town of Carthage, Texas, as
it is about its infamous resident Bernie Tiede (Jack Black), the town’s
mortician and prime suspect in the murder of one of the its most
despised citizens, Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine). Unlike Nugent,
Bernie is conspicuously loved by all. When he’s not helping direct the
high school musical, he’s teaching Sunday school. Black seems to possess
an innate restraint that prevents him from slipping too far into
caricature with Bernie, who we come to learn is not nearly as
complicated as we first suspect. The 78-year-old MacLaine approaches the
role of Marjorie with a certain reverence, turning in yet another in a
career of great performances. Like a well-played mystery, Linklater’s
excellent, darkly humorous (and true) story is interspersed with
tantalizing interviews of the community’s residents. Linklater uses real
East Texas folks to play the parts, a device that serves as the perfect
balance against the drama that leads up to Bernie’s fatal encounter
with the rich bitch of a widow. The comedy is sharp with some of the
film’s best lines coming from those townsfolk. With
Bernie,
Linklater once again has proven himself a fearless director who is
neither complacent nor formulaic. Since I’m a critic, Linklater himself
most likely won’t care what I think. And that’s a very, very good thing.
—Tim Basham
14. Undefeated
Undefeated is such a well-meaning, heart-on-its-sleeve documentary that
one feels morally obligated to write words in praise of it. Having
scored a 2012 Academy Award win in the Best Documentary category, it’s
safe to say that Oscar voters are not in the camp of doubters and
naysayers.There is, after all, so much to appreciate in directors Daniel
Lindsay and T.J. Martin’s film about a North Memphis high school
football coach and his hardscrabble Manassas Tigers’ 2009 miracle
season. The documentary vividly profiles each of its four principal
subjects: There is the compassionate and voluble coach Bill Courtney,
whose commitment to his players borders on saintly; the troubled Chavis,
battling anger issues as he seeks to be a mature team leader; the
sweet-tempered O.C., blessed with superior talent but struggling with
academics in his quest for a scholarship; and “Money,” an honors student
and undersized lineman with a never-say-die attitude.
The team’s chance to make its first play-offs in Manassas’ 110-year
history that drives the suspense in the film. In introducing us to
Courtney,
Undefeated finds its voice.One realizes that it’s on
the backs of individuals like Courtney that entire communities find
their soul, their humanity.
—Jay Antani
13. Oslo, August 31
Somber, thoughtful, elegiac,
Oslo, August 31st asks why life is
worth living when it’s been squandered. It’s not as if the main
character, Anders (Anders Danielsen Lie), has had the most difficult
life. On the contrary, he’s from a well-to-do family and has frittered
away his time clubbing and doing drugs. At the age of 34, he’s given a
new chance as he’s on the verge of being released from a drug
rehabilitation center. He starts on a 24-hour trip that may or may not
lead him to accept his lot in life and keep trying. But will the viewer
care? Anders struggle with addiction and depression, but he’s far from
cinema’s most sympathetic protagonist. Nonetheless, that’s exactly
Joachim Trier’s point. The writer/director believes there are worthwhile
stories to be told among the privileged (as exemplified by his first
film,
Reprise), and
Oslo, August 31st is not a story
meant to elicit sympathy for the economic straits of its main character
as much as for his spiritual straits—his regret, his loneliness, his
inability to connect with others. Anders Danielsen Lie gives a raw
performance, baring a deep sense of melancholy. Thin, pale with sad
eyes, he gives the impression of being an apparition. At one point, he
sits alone in a coffee shop and listens to bits of conversation around
him, merely a fly on the wall. The camera work is elegant and
deceptively simple, often imperceptibly dollying forward on these
intimate moments.Though the film provides a gentle wash of dark
feelings, one can’t help but feel cleansed by it and more alive when it
ends.
—Will McCord
12. Elena
With
Elena, director Andrey Zvyagintsev was interested in
exploring an uncompromising Darwinian world—as he describes it,
“tarantulas in a jar.” It’s a bleak landscape to paint, and he’s done so
with only a few characters and a relatively simple story. Set in
Moscow, Vladimir (Andrey Smirnov) is a wealthy, retired man living in a
modern, sleek apartment. His former nurse, Elena (Nadezhda Markina), is
his wife, but she lives in another room with a separate TV and still
treats him like a patient. His daughter, Katerina (Yelena Lyadova), is
completely estranged but does show up when Vladimir becomes ill and is
hospitalized. The event forces Vladimir to confront his mortality and
think about writing his will. Elena must also think about her welfare as
she faces the prospect of being widowed even as her son’s family
struggles with little money. Simple and spare,
Elena succeeds
in creating a dark world. Vladimir’s apartment is shot beautifully with a
cold precision. Smirnov’s portrayal of Vladimir is tough,
uncompromising and very believable, as is Elena Lyadova’s depiction of
his daughter.
—Will McCord
11. Jiro Dreams of Sushi
Directed by David Gelb,
Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a documentary
about one of the greatest masters of the culinary world, one whom casual
foodies have never even heard of. This man is 85-year-old sushi
shokunin (Japanese artisan), Jiro Ono, who runs a ten-seat, sushi-only
restaurant called Sukiyabashi Jiro located in a Tokyo subway station. He
is hailed internationally as an innovator in the art of sushi. A seat
in his restaurant must be reserved at least a month in advance and
customers pay $300 a person for a prix fixe tasting menu that takes
about half an hour to complete. The film’s close ups of the sushi and
the shokunin’s hands at work have an incredible clarity and crispness.
The music score nicely parallels the repetition, not only in Jiro’s
daily life, but also in his dedication to the art of sushi. Every day,
from when he was a small boy left to fend for himself at the age of
seven, Jiro has strived for a more perfect realization of the sushi he,
literally, dreams about at night. Although Jiro’s work is ostensibly the
focus of the documentary, the film is really propelled by the story of
his relationship with his two sons; the youngest of whom has started his
own restaurant, and the oldest of whom, at the age of fifty, continues
to work with his father, training to one day take over his restaurant.
Devoid of the typical familial jealousy you may expect,
Jiro Dreams of Sushi
is instead a beautifully filmed documentary about a father and his sons
who have devoted their lives to the pursuit of the perfect piece of
sushi.
—Emily Kirkpatrick
Page 3 of 3
We see a lot of movies, most of them bad. So it’s always a joy to
remember the good ones, and 2012 has already had plenty—from a
documentary about sushi to a new kind of horror film, the latest from a
tiny Belgian film to a superhero blockbuster. Here are the 25 Best
Movies of 2012, released between January and June.
10. The Cabin In The Woods
For a movie chock-full of twists, perhaps the biggest is that despite all appearances to the contrary,
The Cabin in the Woods
is a heartfelt love story. Mind you, not between any of the young and
pretty college students who tempt fate at the cabin in question. No,
this romance is between creators Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard, and the
scary-movie genre as a whole. A ménage à terror, if you will. Like
Scream before it, the film is a simultaneous dissection and celebration
of all the tropes to which it pays homage, while also managing to be a
superb example of the genre in its own right. The script is vintage
Whedon—smart, funny and surprising. Thanks to Goddard’s direction and
staging, and despite the film’s very focus on the formulaic nature of
horror, it still manages to be tense, atmospheric and
jump-out-of-your-seat scary. The fun of discovery is just as much in
play as all the blood and slime. Shot three years ago, the sight of a
slighter, pre-
Thor Chris Hemsworth as one of the students in
peril already looks a little dated. The rest of the students are
basically there as eye candy and cannon fodder, as is only proper, but
they all commit to the material extremely well. Make no mistake: This
isn’t
The Tree of Life. It’s a schlocky little horror movie. But with such loving attention to detail and fun,
The Cabin in the Woods
may very well be the ultimate schlocky little horror movie. It’s just
too bad that no machine yet exists to take you back 100 minutes so that
you can experience it again for the first time.
—Dan Kaufman
9. Marley
It’s not entirely clear why director Kevin Macdonald decided to make a
documentary about the musician Bob Marley, a cultural icon whose life
has been recounted countless times through a variety of mediums.
Whatever his reasons, he’s clearly up to the task.
Marley
offers an expansive and at times fascinating perspective on the man
through interviews with his fellow former Wailers, family, and childhood
friends. The film is fairly detailed concerning Marley’s songwriting
and musicianship from his early ska days up through the release of Catch
a Fire. After this, however, it skips through his catalogue, choosing
to focus more on his personal life, conversion to Rastafarianism, the
tumultuous state of Jamaican politics, and his prolific womanizing—all
of which are important elements of the artist’s character. This makes
for an interesting journey, although music geeks will surely miss the
behind-the-scenes insight about classic albums and songs that might have
appeared.
Marley, which is beautifully shot for a documentary
(the Jamaican locations help immensely), begins not in the Caribbean,
but in West Africa. This fades into live footage from the 1970s of
Marley performing the song “Exodus.” Vintage concert performances are
peppered liberally throughout the film, showcasing Marley as a whirling
dervish of spinning, sweaty dreadlocks, possessed of an energy that
feels boundless. Marley’s personal life was tumultuous, to say the
least, and the film’s interviewees are happy to talk about it. Just when
it seemed that he was poised to crack the elusive black American
audience he so desired, he was stricken with cancer. When its a story of
someone as profoundly interesting and influential as Bob Marley,
there’s just so much things to say.
—Jonah Flicker
8. Sound of My Voice
The first ten minutes of
Sound of My Voice are some of the most
claustrophobic, dread-filled moments to grace American cinema in years.
With no preamble, we follow a young couple as they voluntarily submit
to an ominous set of late-night rituals beginning with handing over
their valuables and allowing themselves to be handcuffed and
blindfolded, and culminating in an elaborate secret handshake and
meeting with a mysterious leader in a basement somewhere in the San
Fernando Valley. We quickly learn that the stranger, Maggie, claims to
be a traveler from the future who has returned to collect a chosen few
followers, whom she will lead to a “safe place.” The young couple, Lorna
and Peter, are aspiring documentarians and have infiltrated Maggie’s
sect to expose her as a fraud and cult leader. Co-written by director
Zal Batmanglij and Brit Marling (who plays Maggie),
Sound of My Voice
relentlessly simmers and threatens to boil over at any moment. Peter,
who blames his mother’s death on a New Age cult, begins as a fierce
opponent to the entire idea of Maggie’s group. Slowly, she breaks
through his armor with both intimidation and seduction. Lorna’s
relationship to the group and to Peter grows strained as things get
weirder and weirder. Why is Maggie collecting blood from her followers?
How does she know Peter teaches at a girls’ school and where did she
obtain that yearbook? Does she suspect Peter and Lorna plan to sabotage
her? The filmmakers refuse to feed us answers just as they refuse us
explanations. Marling’s Maggie is a twisted messiah whom, most
frightening of all, we can never completely damn. As a result, this
intellectual thriller shot on a shoestring budget outshines any
mega-budget summer offering and provides striking proof that independent
cinema is alive and well.
—Clay Steakley
7. This is Not A Film
In December 2010, renowned Iranian director Jafar Panahi (Offside) was
sentenced to six years in prison and banned from making films for 20
years. His crime? Supporting the opposition party during Iran’s highly
charged 2009 election. Alone in his apartment, Panahi turns on a camera.
What follows is a document of the day-to-day life of a man under house
arrest: He spreads jam on bread. He brews tea. He feeds his daughter’s
pet iguana. He calls his family. He checks in with his lawyer. But it
also evolves into a provocative meditation on the nature of filmmaking
itself: Although he has been barred from directing films, writing
screenplays, leaving the country and conducting interviews, Panahi’s
sentence says nothing about reading or acting, so this is what he does,
explaining what his most recent film would have been about had he been
allowed to make it. His friend Mojtaba Mirtahmasb, arrives to follow him
around the apartment with a camera in lieu of the static shots. Panahi
acts out his unmade script, about a young woman whose conservative
parents lock her in her bedroom. The parallels between filmmaker and
character are uncanny. Meanwhile, outside, a nervous energy gathers in
the streets as New Years fireworks boom like bombs and armed officers
patrol the neighborhoods. Over and over, Panahi’s friends and family
tell him, “Don’t get worried,” which suggests they know that he will,
and likely with reason. This Is Not a Film is a snapshot of a filmmaker
in exile, yes, but also a poignant portrait of a country under a
repressive regime and a compelling manifesto on the perseverance of art.
Like René Magritte’s The Treachery of Images, in which the artist
scrawls the words “This is not a pipe” under a painting of just such a
smoking device, this is not a film but a representation of one.
—Annlee Ellingson
6. The Avengers
Too often, a superhero film is an exercise in missing the point.
Fortunately for both casual movie-goer and comic book aficionado alike,
Joss Whedon gets it. As a result,
The Avengers not only stands
out as one of the best efforts in the modern era of “super” movies, it
also represents the most complete manifestation of the superhero team
aesthetic yet seen on film. As for the plot—it’s the stuff of which
basic, dependable comic book arcs are made. Thor’s mischievous
half-brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston), gets his hands on the Tesseract and
promises some good-ol’-fashioned world conquering by means an alien
army. Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) gathers the most powerful folks he
knows to fight the threat. While Whedon smartly recognizes how key
Downey Jr.’s Stark is to the story, he also allows most all of his cast,
heroes and villain, ample opportunities to shine, both in dialogue and
action. (Hawkeye and Nick Fury, not so much.) It can’t be overstated how
crucial such balance is to a team film. As Loki, Hiddleston may be the
best-cast arch-villain since Ian McKellen’s Magneto. But
The Avengers’s
impending blockbusting will not just be the result of stellar casting.
Throughout the film, Whedon allows much of the action to proceed at
superhero pace—“placing” the camera for best vantage rather than
over-indulging in bullet-time and other tricks. Finally, a director who
gets the point instead of misses it—and a studio that is smart enough to
hand him the reins.
—Michael Burgin
5. Once Upon A Time in Anatolia
Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, co-written and directed by Nuri
Bilge Ceylan, is a Turkish police procedural based on the real-life
experiences of one of the writers. The story follows a group of men as
they travel around the Anatolian steppe at night in three cars in search
of a buried body. The main homicide suspect, Kenan (Firat Tanis), is
being escorted from one location to the next as part of a deal he’s made
with police Commissar Naci (Yilmaz Erdogan) to identify the grave of
the man he murdered. They are accompanied on this overnight search by
police officers, grave diggers, gendarmerie, as well as Prosecutor
Nusret (Taner Birsel), and Doctor Cemal (Muhammet Uzuner). Nusret and
Cemal each prove bastions of cynical, yet humane, reason in the face of
Naci’s explosive temper and Kenan’s inexplicable brutality. Every
character in this film has a story that they repeat over and over.
Despite these repeated tellings, no real truth ever fully comes to
light, for no story in this film is fixed—each is constantly changing
and adapting.
Once Upon a Time In Anatolia insists that no
matter how large or small they may be, these lies, these changing
stories, are a necessity in order to deal with life and carry on. Among
this multitude of stories, many parts of the film are left unexplained,
or intentionally vague. Instead of making the film feel incomplete,
these unanswered questions instead suggest the complexity and endless
nuances of humanity and the story that is being told here. By the end of
the two and a half hours, the viewer has become thoroughly involved in
everything that’s happened and cannot help but begin to construct his or
her own story of the events and how they took place. As a result, the
viewer becomes just as guilty as the characters of justifying and
rationalizing a story that refuses to be clarified and categorized so
simply.
—Emily Kirkpatrick
4. Monsieur Lazhar
Director Philippe Falardeau’s new film,
Monsieur Lazhar,
presents various lives with seemingly few similarities forced to deal
with tragedy in ways that are remarkably and movingly similar. At a
French-Canadian school in Montreal, a teacher has just committed suicide
in a classroom, traumatizing her highly impressionable and innocent
students. Into her place steps Monsieur Lazhar, an Algerian immigrant
who is recovering from an unspeakable personal calamity in his own
recent past. Such a meeting of two disparate worlds, especially in a
classroom setting, has been played out time and time again in film,
often in the most clichéd manner. But
Monsieur Lazhar is the
exception to the rule. The acting is stellar throughout the film, from
the one-named Algerian actor Fellag’s subtle and warm portrayal of the
title character, to the cast of precocious children who make up his
classroom. “The classroom is not a place where you infect a whole with
despair,” Lazhar says at one point in the film, speaking to both the
previous teacher’s classroom suicide and another teacher’s urging him to
tell his students more about his story prior to coming to Montreal.
Monsieur Lazhar is a thoroughly engaging film that goes far beyond the average classroom drama in emotion and storytelling.
—Jonah Flicker
3. The Kid With a Bike
The Kid with a Bike continues the Belgian writing-directing
brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne’s extraordinary run of charting
the lives of European down-and-outers navigating difficult moral and
spiritual terrain. The Dardennes’ latest follows 11-year-old Cyril
(Thomas Doret) as he struggles to reconcile with the fact that his
father, Guy (Jérémie Renier), has abandoned him. In shock and denial,
Cyril, with the aid of Samantha (Cécile de France), a neighborhood
hairdresser, tracks down his bicycle, which Guy had secretly sold for
much-needed cash before his departure. The two also locate Guy himself,
leading to a wrenching reunion that ends with the father literally
shutting the door in his son’s face. Samantha’s show of concern draws
Cyril to her, and she welcomes him into her home as her foster son. Full
of confusion and self-loathing after his father’s rejection, Cyril is
prone to disobedience, defying Samantha’s efforts to create a sense of
structure and belonging for the boy. Cyril’s inevitable mix-up with a
local hood, Wes (Egon Di Mateo), initiates a downward spiral into crime
and retaliation that threatens any prospect for better days ahead for
the wounded Cyril and the devoted Samantha. As with all of the
Dardennes’ films, the above events proceed naturally as a chain of
causes and effects. Theirs is a cinema of keenly observed sociology,
always interested in man’s capacity to prevail despite terrible
socioeconomic odds and psychological trauma. As portrait of a young
boy’s resilience and of compassion shown by one human being towards
another,
The Kid with a Bike is part of the grand tradition of humanist realism.
—Jay Antani
2. Moonrise Kingdom
After seven features, a Wes Anderson production is unmistakable: white,
upper-middle-class dysfunctional families deadpanning wry dialogue amid
meticulous mise-en-scène to an eclectic soundtrack. Also: exquisite,
often centered, shot compositions; uninterrupted lateral tracking
camerawork through dollhouse-like sets; and inserts of quasi-obscure
cultural objects. The auteur’s calculated quality persists in his latest
film as well, but where his past work can come off as chilly and
detached,
Moonrise Kingdom exudes a warmth and innocence
generated by the earnest adolescent romance at its core. The year is
1965, and the sleepy New England island of New Penzance is stirred to
action when Khaki Scout Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman) and local resident
Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward) run away together. Sam’s fellow Scouts
dislike him, and his foster parents don’t want him back. By the time we
catch up with him, he certainly looks the part of an “emotionally
disturbed” orphan: slight of frame with heavy black glasses, a coonskin
cap and a shadow on his upper lip, his uniform plastered with merit
badges, both official and homemade. But Sam is full of surprises: He’s a
quite skilled outdoorsman, and when he reunites with the mod girl with
whom he’s been exchanging letters for a year, he matter-of-factly hands
her a bouquet of wildflowers and begins imparting survival tips.
Likewise, Suzy is an unexpected rebel with a volatile streak that upsets
the balance among her lawyer parents (Bill Murray and Frances
McDormand) and three little brothers. Delightfully, Anderson and
co-writer Roman Coppola avoid clichés at every opportunity. The forces
that would typically work to tear Sam and Suzy apart instead rally
behind them, perhaps infected by the conviction of their love, which
never wavers, even in argument: “I love you, but you don’t know what
you’re talking about.”
Moonrise Kingdom is whimsical and, yes, precious, but only in the very best sense of the word.
—Annlee Ellingson
1. Beasts of The Southern Wild
Briefly describing
Beasts of the Southern Wild is like trying
to explain the inner-workings of an airplane to someone who’s never seen
a wheel. In his feature debut, director Benh Zeitlin has stirred up a
magic pot of poetry, neo-realism, surrealism, pre-historic creatures,
the ice age, childhood and lost cultures. The film is a symphony of
curiosity that builds toward a glorious crescendo. It’s set on an island
known as “The Bathtub,” located outside the Louisiana levees. It’s a
forbidden land — off-limits according to the government — but misfits
still inhabit it, living in makeshift shelters and using vehicles that
would be at home in a post-apocalyptic world. If Zeitlin’s sheer
ambition weren’t enough, the film’s young star and narrator, Quvenzhané
Wallis, was born with a magnetic screen presence. Six-year-old Wallis
injects Beasts with youthful verve. The story is told through her
character’s curious eyes, and she emits so much lovable hope that it’s
impossible not to follow her.
—Jeremy Matthews
Resources : Michael Dunaway ;-)
