Instead of going the convention Best of 2018 route, Criterion Collection tried something different. They asked their regular contributors: What new discovery did you make this year? The results are amazing: What They Found: Our Contributors Share Their 2018 Discoveries Proud to be included with this group of people. (As additional commentary for what I chose, here’s this.)
An example of being heavy-handed for no discernible purpose. My review of The Destroyer is now up at Rogerebert.com.
You can subscribe here if you’re interested. I’ll provide links to the stuff I’ve written during any given month, plus anything else I think is cool. You can click to see the first newsletter, just to see the format. This is a work in progress. Would love to keep in touch this way.
Yup.
There are a couple of funny things about “Santa Claus Is Back in Town,” co-written by Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Famers, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, who also wrote “Hound Dog,” “Kansas City,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “Young Blood,” “Don’t,” “Stand By Me,” “Searchin'” …
Elvis’ 1st Christmas album came out in October, 1957. It is, to this day, the best-selling Christmas album in the United States and still one of the best-selling albums of all time.
The songs are a mixed bag: a couple of gospel tunes (already recorded and released by Elvis), a bunch of traditional Christmas songs (“White Christmas,” “Here Comes Santa Claus” “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”), a new Christmas song and future Christmas classic called “Blue Christmas” and then … the completely undomesticated “Santa Claus is Back in Town.” Before Tom Parker came down with the hammer, closing off avenues of communication, Elvis had asked Leiber and Stoller to write him up a Christmas song. I get frustrated when people who don’t know what they’re talking about say that Elvis was just some dummy, who was a tool of larger forces, with no “agency” (as the kids say today). No agency? NO AGENCY? (I feel like Paul Dooley in Breaking Away screaming over and over, “REFUND? REFUND? REFUND??”) Elvis had maybe the most agency of ANYONE, to dream up the life for himself he actually achieved. HE did that, everybody else was just along for the ride, and it was like hanging onto a rocket during blast off. Elvis loved hymns, loved Christmas, loved those old Christmas classics. But he wanted a strong start to his album. A start that connected this hymn-loving-gospel-loving man (true) with the sexy r&b guy (also true). And this was what Leiber and Stoller came up with.
By October, 1957, some of the controversy surrounded him had died down (thanks to his three appearances of the middle-brow Ed Sullivan Show in the autumn of 1956 and winter of 1957). But Elvis was still was a hugely controversial figure. You have to imagine yourself back into the era to get what was going on here. The Demon from the South comes out with a Christmas album, and to many many people (if you think like an uptight Northeastern Protestant-type person it makes sense) this in and of itself was an outrage. How dare this greaseball “co-opt” traditional Christmas carols, first of all, but then to have the GALL to sing RELIGIOUS Christmas songs – never mind the fact that Elvis had performed “Peace in the Valley” during one of his appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show, never mind how openly religious he was (in 1956 he was asked what was the worst part about being on the road so much. He replied, totally sincere: “I can’t go to church as much as I would like to no more.”). Elvis, the white trash sexpot who had somehow made all of the teenage girls in America lose their minds, singing Moms-apple-pie Christmas songs … it was seen as yet another example of the world coming to an end.
But the funniest part of all this is – and it’s funny in a much deeper and more subversive way – is that, yes – he sang many traditional songs on the album, and beautifully – songs nobody could really complain about – but he led off the album with “Santa Claus Is Back In Town”. This was the first track, and it’s one of the nastiest blues tracks in Elvis’ career. At one point, he actually cackles. He sounds evil and hot, like literally your worst nightmare (if you’re an uptight Northeastern Protestant-type parent) or your best dream (if you are the Tween daughter of an uptight Northeastern Protestant-type person). Elvis didn’t try to bury the song on the B-side, hoping to avoid controversy. No, the whole thing STARTS here, a powerfully destabilizing choice.
“Hang up your pretty stockings – turn off da light … Santa Claus is comin’ DOWN YOUR CHIIIIIIMNEY TONIGHT!”
I mean … that really IS the world coming to an end. Or A world, at any rate. As Lester Bangs put it in his famous obituary for Elvis: “Elvis kicked ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window’ out the window and replaced it with ‘Let’s fuck.’ The rest of us are still reeling from the impact.”
In addition, the song starts with a feint. It lulls you into complacency: there are some piano chords, there are the Jordannaires singing in beautiful harmony: “Christmaaaaas … ” (ding-dong) Christmaaaaasss” … (ding-dong) “Christmaaaaas … ”
and maybe you think you know where the song is going.
You don’t.
“Mr. Harris” – Aimee Mann. Every time I hear women being judgmental about older men dating younger women – and I hear it all the time – I think of … well, my own life. My greatest love was 13 years older than I was. And I was 25 when I met him – at that point, it was a HUGE age difference (age difference lessens in importance as you get older). But I also think of “Mr. Harris.” Don’t knock May-December til you’ve tried it.
“Alibi” – Bradley Cooper, from A Star is Born. Absolutely love it. It rocks. Cooper knows his Eric Church, I’m thinkin’. Anthemic electric guitar.
“Whiskey In the Jar” – Metallica, playing live in Dublin, 2006. Hearing the audience sing along is electric. My cousin Liam said, “It’s the unofficial anthem of Ireland.”
“Song for Children” – Brian Wilson. From SMILE. Every time I hear one of these tracks, I think of that beautiful moment in Love & Mercy when the studio musician tells Wilson during a break, “Listen, we’ve played for everyone. But you? You’re touched, kid.” Goosebumps.
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” – Nirvana. Live. It’s so eerie. So ominous. So GIGANTIC. I will never ever be “over” this song.
“Laugh I Nearly Died” – The Rolling Stones. Talk about eerie.
“Put Your Hand In the Hand” (take 1) – Elvis Presley. Slightly tired. Granted, it’s only take 1. (I love listening to all the different takes of all of his stuff. You can feel the song take shape – Elvis always worked with the full band in the studio, in real time. These are all live takes.)
“New Slaves” – Kanye West. Yes, I know, I know, KANYE, WHAT IS UP WITH YOU KANYE. Well, he’s nuts. This isn’t news.
“Dark In My Heart” – Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs. I love them so much.
“I Hate You” – Jerry Lee Lewis, from 1978’s Jerry Lee Keeps Rockin’, a truer title never spoken. I love his little swoops of the piano in the middle of this gentle country tune – stabs of aggression, of personality – he can’t help it. Everything he is goes into everything he does. And that’s why he’s Jerry Lee.
“A Rumor in St. Petersburg” – the cast of Anastasia. And this right here is why I love iPod Shuffle and why it will be pried from my cold dead hands. From Jerry Lee Lewis to THIS.
“Creep” – Prince. Okay, so everyone appears to need to cover this song at some point in their career. There have been many astonishing covers of it. Well played, Radiohead. But what is unique about this epic live performance from Prince (yes, I cribbed the mp3 from Youtube) is that Prince somehow … because he’s Prince … turns this epic expression of self-loathing into a FEROCIOUS anthem of self-acceptance. Acceptance in the tune of “Fuck you if you disagree” … and opening his arms to include the audience in this too: we are all creeps. Creeps are sexy, beautiful, thank God we’re creeps, revel in it. Now, Radiohead does this too. But when Prince does it … it feels different. He takes the song SOMEWHERE ELSE. It’s almost 8 minutes long. If you haven’t seen it, here it is.
“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” – Jerry Lee Lewis. Elvis called this song “the saddest song I’ve ever heard.” Hank Williams made it famous. This album (Jerry Lee Lewis Sings the Country Music Hall of Fame, Vol. 1) is made up of Lewis singing classic country songs, part of his determination to cement his position in country music. Which he did, becoming one of country’s biggest stars.
“Land of a Thousand Dances” – Little Richard. Pretty sure he recorded this in the late 60s. You can hear it in the sound, the enormous horn section, the frenetic rhythm, it’s r&b on steroids.
“Float Like a Feather” – Dawn Mitschele. Beautiful and sad. Can’t remember how I found this.
“Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing” – Stevie Wonder. A perfect song off a perfect album.
“Do Rae Me” – Eminem (feat. Lloyd Banks). Hailey’s giggles in the background in the beginning make this whole thing … insane.
“In a Little While” – Wynona Carr. She died in obscurity. She was a peer of Sam Cooke’s, came from the same gospel world, encouraged to put out a “pop” album, which she did (it’s fantastic), and she left behind a bunch of gospel tracks too. But nothing happened for her while she was alive. I love her stuff so much, I wish her story had been different.
“Rock & Roll High School” – The Ramones. Classic.
“Caruso” – Lara Fabian. Her voice is such a phenomenal instrument. What a belt.
“Sweet Virginia” – Jerry Lee Lewis (featuring Keith Richards). I can’t get enough. From JLL’s Mean Old Man in 2010.
“Gimme Shelter” – The Rolling Stones. Two words: Merry Clayton. Impossible to imagine the song without her. That was no “backup vocal” gig. And the Stones knew it. Her voice cracks … once. The next time she goes for that note, she digs in, and it cracks twice, and the entire world falls apart. But Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz wrote about this already, in a great post where he walks through the song second by second.
“My Truly, Truly Fair” – Guy Mitchell. WTF. It’s even funnier – and weirder – coming directly after “Gimme Shelter.” An entire culture toppled in a 10-year period. However, I won’t lie: there’s something catchy about this.
“Rave On” – Buddy Holly. The Crickets were one of the best bands ever. This still sounds fresh, exciting, still leaps out of the speakers.
“Black Dog Blues” – The Jack Hills. This is how the song is listed, but I don’t know who The Jack Hills are (besides a place in Australia), and I have no memory of ever listening to it. Welcome to my music collection.
“Dibs” – Kelsea Ballerini. Great name. I think this is adorable. The song is (sort of) country-ish (there’s a banjo), but it’s more pop song, with a couple spoken-word sections. I like it, it’s catchy.
“Rock ‘n Roll Ruby” – Brian Setzer. People mock him. Dummies. He was one of my “ways in” to this kind of music, its depths, the byways, not just the big names. Through him, I found Billy Lee Riley and Sonny Burgess. I was, like, 14, 15. Besides, I remember reading some article years ago – 20 years ago – where some record label guy said, “If Brian Setzer said tuba solos were gonna be the next big thing, I’d believe him.” SO THERE.
“Satisfied” Sia (feat. Miguel & Queen Latifah). It flat out gives me goosebumps throughout. From Hamilton Mixtape.
“Ten Cents a Dance” – Doris Day, sung in the harrowing Love Me or Leave Me (which I wrote up for Film Comment). The placement of this song in the narrative (mentioned in the piece) is brutal. And she plays it brilliantly.
“Criminal” – Eminem. One of the best tracks on that album, and that’s saying something.
“Love Somebody” – Robbie Williams. Superstar. One of the best things going now, in the last 20 years, whenever. I am grateful for him. There’s very little “filler” in his work. He swings for the fences. He writes pop anthems. And he can FILL THAT SHIT.
“Must Have More” – L7. I don’t think I can sufficiently describe how much I love them, and how much they meant to me when I was a wild wild girl in my 20s.
“Just For Love” – ELO. I’m no Bill Janovitz. I can’t explain why ELO’s chord changes and song structures hit the absolute sweetest of sweet spots. It’s like pressing into the bruise on an apple. The songs make me feel sad, but not devastatingly so. A yearning, maybe is a better word. The song remains as a net underneath me, containing all the emotions they unleash. If that makes sense. I mean, in song after song after song, this is true …
“True Love” – The Everly Brothers. Perfection.
“In Only Seven Days” – Queen. Written by John Deacon – who also wrote “Spread Your Wings” which is up there with my favorite Queen songs. There’s something sweet about this, not too much bite, but I really like it.
“Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” – Leftover Cuties. I am so so glad I discovered them.
“You Know Me” – Air Traffic Controller. I discovered them because Bleu (one of my favorite singer/songwriters working together) produced their album, and promoted them like crazy. They opened for him when I saw him play. They’re fantastic.
“Sixty Minute Man” – Jerry Lee Lewis. At least it’s not sixty seconds!
“Could Be Worse” Bleu. Speaking of Bleu!!
“Just Lose It” – Eminem. One of his few dance hits.
“Deep Water” – Seal. I have a very specific memory attached to this song. An unprintable memory. But a good one!
“Downs” – Big Star. You can hear the coming of “grunge” in this. They were such phenoms.
“Raw-Hide” – Link Wray. 1959 TV performance, a year after “Rumble,” one of the only instrumentals to be banned from radio play. Let that sink in. (No, just kidding. Let’s retire “let that sink in.” But still. Banning an instrumental because of what it might unleash is through the looking glass – although a huge tribute to the song, too. If you listen to “Rumble” and think like a censor or frightened PTA member, you can hear the Danger). When this clip below gets to his guitar solo near the end – the “solo” is really just one note – which he hits again and again, swooping it, curling it, digging into it – it’s so exhilarating the audience starts screaming. And he’s just playing one note over and over. That’s Link Wray.
“The Weight” – Aretha Franklin. Aretha covering The Band. It gives me goosebumps.
“Vogue” – Madonna. Peak Madonna. Well, for me, Dick Tracy was peak Madonna. But I love this phase too.
“Best Friend” – Sofi Tukker (feat. NERVO, The Knocks & Alisa Ueno). SO CATCHY.
“Did You Miss Me” – Wanda Jackson. Beautiful. She could rock out with the best of them, but here she sings a ballad and I love it.
“Cleopatra, Queen of Denial” – Pam Tillis. We’ve all been there, Pam.
“Celebrity Skin” – Hole. Iconic.
“Down Came the World” – Waylon Jennings. I think it’s one of his most beautiful vocal performances.
“Little Baby” – Buddy Holly. Sexy. With that boogie-woogie piano going on, in the background, and then foregrounded with a solo.
“Candles” – the Glee cast version, which is totally lovely.
“Mystery Train / Tiger Man” – Elvis Presley, onstage in Las Vegas, off the tremendous That’s the Way It Is album. This is thrilling. He’s returning to his roots, one of the first songs he recorded – and morphing it, taking it into the present with him. He would not be a nostalgia act, no way no how.
“Forget Her” – Jeff Buckley. What a voice, what a spirit. Will always always treasure the memory of seeing him live.
“On the Fence” – Brendan Benson. One of my favorite singer/songwriters today. And he came to me via a commercial for an iPod, so thanks, Apple. This is the best off his latest. I love how honest he is.
“She Bangs” – Ricky Martin. Take me there, Ricky, you and your frenzied horn section.
“Michael Row the Boat Ashore” – by the beloved American folk singer and unrepentant Stalinist, Pete Seeger
“Love Is a Woman” – The Beach Boys. There’s something so goddamned pure about this.
“Monkey Wrench” – Foo Fighters. Talk about pure. The first full-length song on The Colour and the Shape, the album that put Foo Fighters over into mainstream superstardom (there had been one previous album, which I love). The Colour and the Shape was a revelation, especially to those of us – my generation – still traumatized by Kurt Cobain’s death. If you feel like mocking that statement, get in fucking line. We were mocked relentlessly by mainstream media and everyone else for how we grieved. We didn’t care then and we don’t care now. I listened to The Colour and the Shape every day for almost a solid year. Maybe more. I don’t know. I mainlined it into my veins and I couldn’t get enough. The album holds up. A classic.
“Norwegian Wood” – Waylon Jennings. Such a great cover.
“Let It Be Me” – Indigo Girls. The sentiment is a little earnest for this cynical lady, but it’s a beautiful song. I love them (or, most of their songs. There are a few clunkers). I’m slightly surprised they’ve “lasted” but I am happy they have. I still keep track of them.
“I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow” – The Soggy Bottom Boys. Off the O, Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack.
“Make You Feel My Love” – Bob Dylan. OUCH.
“She Even Woke Me Up To Say Goodbye” – Jerry Lee Lewis. Live in London, 1983. Such a hilariously bitter song title. Gorgeous performance, with a thoughtful and yet – always – aggressive performance. His personality is such it can’t be denied expression: it’s in his piano playing (exquisite), his voice, and his asides.
“Folk Singer” – Brendan Benson. See above comments. He hasn’t written one boring song. No “filler.”
“The Hunter’s Wife” – Pistol Annies. Sister, this is a sorry sorry tale.
“Don’t Stop Believin'” – Journey. This song has been in my life – via osmosis – for almost my entire time on this planet. I was not a huge Journey fan, it’s not really my taste, not when I was a teen and not now. But this song definitely has “something” that makes it a classic. And it is now 100% associated with this:
“No Regrets” – Little Willie John. It’s so romantic, painfully, yearningly. No regrets … but the regret is in the music, the harmonies.
“Morning Sun” – Robbie Williams. I love this song’s build. It’s a classic Williams structure. Ballad start. And then … it changes. It gathers its forces, and EXPLODES.
“One Last Time” – Lin-Manuel Miranda and Christopher Jackson, from Hamilton. It reduces me to a puddle of tears.
“Blue Moon of Kentucky” – Nigel Lewis with the Tombstone Brawlers. I love this so much. I love this whole album so much. I tripped over it during one of my Elvis rabbit holes. It’s called “A Psychobilly Tribute to Elvis” and these crazy bands don’t just cover the main hits. Like, one band covers “Crawfish,” of all things, the opening song in King Creole. It’s awesome.
“Lawdy Miss Clawdy” – Elvis. This is from the “first sit-down show” on the 1968 “comeback special” (which just had its anniversary. NBC celebrated by airing it again!) You listen to this, where he’s playing the stuff that got him started in 1956, and it’s now 1968 and it’s just extraordinary how he enters into these songs – not as throwback, or nostalgia for the past. Here, he enters into the song as though it’s the first time he ever sang it. And that, kids, is why he was The King.
“Heart Shaped Box” – Nirvana. THESE LYRICS. “Forever in debt to your priceless advice …” It cracked open our world. As Tori Amos said of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”: “It gave a generation some juice.”
“Nowhere Fast” – Eminem (feat. Kehlani). Every time I write “feat” I think of that purposefully awkward cable-access show where Stephen Colbert interviewed Eminem, pretending he didn’t know who Eminem was. At one point Colbert says, “What does ‘feat’ mean?” Eminem trying to be polite and having to deal with this – maintaining his deadpan although you can tell he wants to laugh – is extremely entertaining.
“Love’s What I Want” – The Monkees. From their new album, which I adore.
“Words I Couldn’t Say” – Leighton Meester, from Country Strong, starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Garrett Hedlund. This movie surprised me. I thought it would be ridiculous. But it’s kind of great. Something happens with Gwyneth Paltrow when she sings (see Glee), she’s freed up, she’s glorious, she’s a star. Hedlund is great as a barroom singer, uninterested in big-time fame, and Leighton Meester is terrific as the new hottest country star. Good music, too. I was surprised at how moved I was by the final scene.
“Superstitious” – Stevie Wonder. That guitar line. I mean, it KILLS.
“Always On the Run” – Lenny Kravitz. Your mama was right, Lenny.
“Young World” – Ricky Nelson. He was so huge. Outside of his still passionate fan base … has that knowledge filtered down into the mainstream? He feels forgotten to me. Almost like Brenda Lee. I know there are those who know, who remember. I’m talking about people who AREN’T fans. Like, Brenda Lee set records that weren’t broken until Madonna came along 20 years later. Anyway, I love Ricky Nelson.
“Huh Babe” – Luke McDaniel. Off of one of the many “Sun Records recordings” compilations. It’s interesting because – outside of the big-wigs like Howlin’ Wolf, Ike Turner, Rufus Thomas, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis – there was a lot going on there, people who didn’t “hit it” big, those who came along post-Elvis. Everything sounds like Elvis, like here – with those little hitches and glitches that Elvis had in his voice. This also has Carl Perkins echoes. But there is that classic Sun sound, which has to do with ephemeral things … the acoustics in the room, the slap-back – RCA spent a shit-ton of money trying to re-create the Sun sound once Elvis signed with them – but they couldn’t pull it off. Nobody could. Totally distinctive sound.
“Every Sperm is Sacred” – Monty Python. Hilarious. And it gets funnier the longer it goes on. It’s a 4-minute long song! When the sopranos burst in … when the boy chorus … singing these ridiculous dirty lyrics … hits my funny bone at the perfect angle.
“Money Honey” – Eddie Cochran. He had a sexual persona almost as strong as Elvis’. He was a sex powerhouse. Sorry to be blunt, but I’m a girl, and that’s what’s going on with him. This is a live version, which captures who he was in front of an audience, and it had to have been overwhelming. What a loss.
“Maybe” – Alison Krauss. Her voice, it’s just perfection.
“Flower” – Liz Phair. This is what adult female sexuality sounded like (or can) … right before the teenage Lolitas took over the airwaves, with their performative sexuality – slightly pervy since all of them were so young. Liz Phair was not messing around. This is what it looks like when a woman not only says “Yes” but initiates the conversation. “I want to be your blowjob queen.” Go for it, good for you. If you want true liberation, you need to own how much you want to say “Yes” and then go for it. And also deal with the fact that you might have some bad sex along the way. That’s part of the risk. People will try to shame you. Fuck them. This is what Liz Phair “represented” – and the riot grrrls – they weren’t “role models” for me, because I didn’t need role models. They SPOKE what I – and everyone I knew – was already doing. It was the zeitgeist. I didn’t “relate” to Madonna’s sexuality, who was the big thing in high school. It was too performative for me, way too much pressure. In looking back, I found more to admire in Joan Jett’s attitude, which – was equally performative, but felt more grown-up, maybe? Like, she was sexual but it had nothing to do with how she was PERCEIVED, whereas Madonna played with perceptions – and often brilliantly – but it just didn’t strike a chord with me. Liz Phair came along when I was a little older and I was like, “Holy shit, that. THAT’S IT. That’s my life RIGHT NOW.”
“Bridge Burning” – Foo Fighters. I am always amazed at how Dave Grohl can scream in tune.
“Do Somethin'” – Britney Spears. After my monologue about Liz Phair, it is time to reiterate how much I love Brit-Brit. I was a fan from the jump. Two things can be true at the same time. This is a great dance tune.
“Junk” – Tim Christensen, Tracy Bonham & Mike Viola. From their wonderful Paul McCartney tribute album called Pure McCartney. McCartney fans, I recommend this. These are three singer/songwriters I love, so it’s really fun to hear them sing these McCartney songs. Tracy Bonham, among other things, plays the violin, and there’s a beautiful violin bridge here.
“U Hate It” – Liz Phair. From Funstyle, an album nobody seemed to get, and even actively disliked. This song is about how much everyone hates her new album, which makes me love her even more.
“Four Green Fields” – The Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem. The most sentimental Irish song ever? Some stiff competition there. But if you want to know why my dad – who basically raised us on the Clancy Brothers – used to say, “Tommy Makem was the real singer” – this is the song to listen to.
“Hush” – Jellyfish. From Spilt Milk, an album we all loved in my crowd. It was very big. I had no idea they would be so short-lived, but I absolutely adore this album. Not a bad song on it. ELO-influenced. Queen-influenced. Fantastic.
“Ghost Riders in the Sky” – Johnny Cash. A Spaghetti-Western song. Cash is so authentic. Authentic to his core. You can hear it in his voice. There it is, there he is. Pure and unadorned.
“A Change Is Gonna Come” – Sam Cooke. One of the most important anthems of the civil rights movement. It’s overwhelming. And it makes me want to cry because of Sam Cooke’s early end.
“My Way” – The Sex Pistols. WTF.
“The World Was Wide Enough” – Leslie Odom, Jr., Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton. The buildup to the Hamilton-Burr duel and then the duel. No turning back now. Heartbreaking.
“Greatest” – Eminem. I’m dazzled by him and I make no apologies.
“Little Less Conversation” – Elvis Presley. Absolutely ferocious.
“Chain Gang” – Sam Cooke. He was such a brilliant song-writer (and arranger and producer). The rhythmical grunts from the chain gang punctuating the song – with an echo on it – just genius, give the song that extra pop. He was so observant, his lyrics always reflected that, his songs came out of real life, were not general, always specific.
“Sunglasses At Night” – Corey Hart. Holy mackerel, I had no idea I even had this. I don’t even know what the lyrics mean, but what I DO know is that I am unable to hear this song now without thinking of …
“Is It So Strange” – Elvis. Recorded in 1957. A beautiful ballad. It’s filled with emotion once you know the backstory.
“Deep Feeling” – Chuck Berry. God, his guitar SPEAKS.
“Girls! Girls! Girls!” – Elvis Presley, the title song to the 1962 movie. Now listen nobody’s gonna call this peak Elvis. In fact, for many, songs like this reiterate their hatred of the movies. But if you remove all that – if you can – this song is pretty catchy, in a super silly way. “I never get to finish my lunch because there’s always bound to be a bunch of girls.” I mean … I like it because it’s got Elvis’ insouciance, his pleasure in pleasure. It’s so apparent.
“Love Game” – Jerry Lee Lewis. 1980. Big string section, grounded by his piano. And his voice. This is a big song. He wails and snarks about his heartbreak, which you never really believe in, but it doesn’t matter, because he means it while he sings it. It won’t last long, though. Jerry Lee doesn’t get thrown off easily.
“Detroit City” – Brandon Calhoon. What a great rock ‘n roll voice.
“Time Stands Still” – Pat McCurdy. I was wondering when he would show up. He’s an old friend. We’re not really in touch – except for a brief recent-ish conversation about Elvis. This is from his album called Showtunes, which includes a duet with me and Pat. He wrote it for us specifically. We recorded it at a small studio in Milwaukee, both in the booth together, a live take. Fairly certain, if memory serves, the first take was the take used.
I post this helpful tutorial from Katharine Hepburn (aka my good friend Alexandra Billings) every year. Just in case you need some ideas for decorating your Christmas tree.
Oh, Alex. I love you.
I am so excited I can’t even tell you to participate in a post-screening discussion of Nicolas Roeg and Donald Cammell’s 1970 film Performance with Matt Zoller Seitz and writer/editor Ian Hill. The screening is part of “The Sopranos Film Festival“, curated/hosted by Matt Zoller Seitz (who has a book coming out on The Sopranos), with major input from Sopranos creator David Chase himself. (He chose many of the films to be screened at the festival, including Performance).
Performance is screening on January 10, 10:00 pm at IFC Center, discussion to follow. Ticket information here.
Performance is so destabilizing it still feels radical, with its multiple fluid intersections of crime, beauty, sex, celebrity, gender … I mean, whatever else you want to throw in there. Plus starring Mick Jagger, James Fox, Anita Pallenberg and Michele Breton.
I did a re-watch of all of Nicolas Roeg’s stuff this month, following his death, since I was writing a tribute to him for a yet-to-be-disclosed outlet. Performance is fresh in my mind, although – if you’ve seen it – you know how the film never really leaves you. It takes root in your brain. Your nervous system. Its images rise unbidden from the deeps. It’s that kind of movie. I have never seen it on the big screen and I can’t wait.
“During filming [The Night of the Hunter], as they drove along a freeway, [Charles] Laughton told [Robert] Mitchum, ‘I don’t know if you know, and I don’t know if you care, and I don’t care if you know, but there is a strong streak of homosexuality in me,’ to which Mitchum replied, ‘No shit!’ and then ‘Stop the car!’ to Laughton’s tortuously worded admission. This was a well-worn routine for Laughton, and Mitchum’s joking reaction put Laughton finally at ease, a precious moment of understanding between two very different people.”
– Dan Callahan, The Art of American Screen Acting, 1912-1960
Sorry, y’all. I found it all to be very empty. Yet another pep talk with Jack … which of course took place in the kitchen in the bunker … ARGH PEP TALK. ARGH THE BUNKER. There were some good sequences, and Dean’s little monologue about how now he understood the violation of being possessed, blah blah, was well-played. But that’s no surprise. He plays everything well. It’s just all really EMPTY for me. Something important – the life-blood – has been severed. They’ve cut themselves off from the powerful SOURCE of the series, which fed them for 11 years. It’s not there anymore. Now, with an entire AU going on, and creatures moving back and forth, and magic spears, and a girl in a Jawa costume … it no longer feels like it takes place in our world. It’s … phony. That’s the only way I can put it. I just don’t believe in it. Sorry to be a downer. Maybe others enjoyed it and can express why! I’m always open to the thought I might be wrong, and I’m always willing to take another look.
So all this Top 10 stuff gets a little bit too competitive for me sometimes. There can’t be a “winner” anyway, in art. It doesn’t work like that. This has been a really good year and I’ve seen a lot of stuff I not only enjoyed, but loved. For various random reasons, they couldn’t be highlighted on a Top 10 but I would be totally remiss if I didn’t mention them. A lot of these are smaller films, without any “names” in them. They either were barely released, or released only VOD, and therefore buried in the avalanche of “content” (Grrrrr).
So here goes.
dir. Eva Vives
I reviewed this wonderful film for Ebert. It really didn’t get much play, not in the theatres, not in the commentary, not anywhere. People were too busy bitching about Bradley Cooper loving Lady Gaga’s nose (eye. ROLL.) This is a really well-done film about a standup comedian hovering on the edge of what appears to be a nervous breakdown. Mary Elizabeth Winstead is phenomenal as Nina, an alcoholic wild woman, who’s burning bridges faster than they can be built. So many female stars now need to always “win” in every scene they do. Even when they “lose” it has to somehow be noble. They don’t want to be judged. It’s a real problem (for me, at any rate. I’m bored.) Winstead doesn’t give a shit. She goes where the character goes. The character does some crazy shit, shit that can’t be explained by a “rational” person, but … duh … that’s what happens when you start to crack up. I really loved this film and I wish it had generated more chatter. Check it out.
dir. Jeremiah Zagar
I reviewed this for Ebert, and although I called out some of the things that didn’t work for me, overall this is an overwhelming piece of work, mostly in a sensorial way: sounds, light, music, shadows … all pouring into the story being told, a parents’ troubled marriage seen through the eyes of their three rambunctious sons. Excellent work with the child actors (many of whom were total non-professionals), as well as the adult performances from Sheila Vand and Raúl Castillo, both superb. For me, it’s the LOOK of the thing that is the real draw – it’s beautiful and poetic, not realistic – emotional. Terrence Malick-influenced, for sure. The visuals are tactile, urgent, immediate.
dir. Thom Zimny
The doc was criticized for “soft pedaling” some of Elvis’ more scandalous behavior, or not addressing the critiques, etc. Oh, please. Critics have had their fun and free rein for 40 years and counting. No one will stop you from continuing to tear him down. There is literally not one corner of this man’s life that hasn’t been picked through, criticized, lampooned. And okay, fine, he’s a big target. I get it. But that’s not all there is, and this documentary, as I wrote in my review is a long overdue act of artistic redress. Sometimes, because he was so huge, the image is so separated from the actual guy and his work – it’s like screaming into a void if you try to talk about him seriously. (As I just experienced in Memphis, though, people are hungry to talk about him seriously.) Like, enough already. And again, just because ONE documentary doesn’t focus on how awful he was doesn’t mean jack-squat. Or what it MEANS is is that SOME people think his work is worth talking about. If you don’t agree, big whup. It’s a free country. What is great about The Searcher is that it tracks his artistic journey, his “search,” while also giving informative background about the phases of his career, the music that came out of each phase, what he was trying to work through, how connected he was to the things that influenced him. Like Peter Guralnick’s two-volume biography, it humanizes him – without becoming hagiographic. It may SEEM hagiographic to those who can’t stand him … but it’s not. It’s trying to correct the skewed record, it’s trying to tip the scales back – just a little bit – to consider the work. It’s about freakin’ time. Gorgeously shot, too. William Eggleston-inspired. Haunting. It’s like he just left the building yesterday. Thank you, HBO.
dir. Victor Levin
This movie has a lot of problems, the main one being the overwritten script. You can see the words on the page as the actors speak the lines. HOWEVER. Watching Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder talk and bitch and argue and debate definitely has its pleasures – and honestly I’m listing it here mainly because of the sex scene, which is one of the funniest sex scenes I have ever seen in my life (the funniest sex scene is Burt Reynolds and Sally Fields in The End). As my online pal Willow Catelyn Maclay said, when she referenced this movie on Facebook: “That scene is peak Keanu.” Totally. The sex scene unfolds in one long take which adds to the funniness of it. These two actors had to create that RIDICULOUS event from beginning to end, with no cuts. This accomplishment should be celebrated. So here I am. Celebrating it.
dir. Haifaa Al-Mansour
I was assigned this one to review for Ebert, which was a real treat. Sanaa Lathan is one of my favorite actresses (wrote about her here), and yet she’s rarely at the center of a story. (See Something New as soon as you can. I never get sick of that movie. Also Love & Basketball, which I adore.) Here, in Nappily Ever After, she’s at the center (and perhaps it will be the start of a franchise? I’m not sure. I don’t remember the movie getting much “play” and there are no comments on my review at Ebert. This was an easily findable film, streaming on Netflix, so I’m not sure what the issue was). One of my favorite acting moments of the year is Lathan’s, in Nappily Ever After, which I wrote about in the piece. She’s not just a really good actress. She is BOLD, she makes BIG choices, but these choices are always connected to something real, something honest. Like I said in the piece I wrote about her, she’s a Leading Lady. It’s where she belongs, so it’s fun to see her run with it.
dir. David Sington and Heather Walsh
Another fortuitous Ebert assignment. Here is my review. I stan for NASA and for this whole story, the space race, astronauts, the revenge of the nerds, the accomplishments, the whole nine yards. I find it endlessly fascinating. One of the reasons Hidden Figures hit me so hard was that I know so much about this era and all the players … but I didn’t know THIS. And now I am so glad I know! Hidden figures, no more! (Incidentally, as I mentioned on Twitter, my Nasa-stan stance was one of the reasons I had problems with First Man, even as critics were hailing it as the film of the year, a masterpiece, a “humanist” work, getting all lyrical (It may be a character flaw, but I get suspicious when writers get lyrical. Unless you’re Truman Capote or Tennessee Williams, you would be better off staying away from trying to be lyrical.) Mercury 13 tells the story of a group of women who went through astronaut training in its initial stages. Just like John Glenn and Neil Armstrong and Gus Grissom and Buzz Aldrin and all the rest. Many of these women are still alive, and they are interviewed, and of course we all know the end of the story: there were no female astronauts. It would take 20 years for that to happen. So what happened? I mean, it’s obvious: rank sexism and ridiculous patriarchy holding onto its privilege. Nothing new there. But HOW it happened, and what these women went through – is a fascinating glimpse of yet another group of “hidden figures,” many of whom did BETTER on all those tests and drills than the men who eventually went to the moon. I highly recommend this very well-done and informative documentary.
dir. Ryan Coogler
One of the few “Movie Events” of the year, the sense of excitement was palpable. Although I knew I would eventually catch up with it, I didn’t go during its release, because superhero movies do not interest me. Before superhero fans FLIP OUT, let me ask you: are you interested in Emperor Diocletian’s palace? In the minutia of the Politburo archives? In James Joyce’s juvenilia? No? Well, your disinterest doesn’t invalidate my interest. I don’t need approval from others – or a consensus – to feel like I’m “allowed” to love the things I love. And believe me, people have had weird prickly responses to my interests over the years, which has always seemed absurd to me, but there you have it. “I guess I’m dumb because I like Tom Clancy, huh” was an actual unprompted question by a regular commenter on my site years ago during Bloomsday. It is literally impossible for anyone to invalidate me loving the shit I love, even if they say to my face “I don’t love those things.” Okay, fine, you’re you and I’m me. Shrug. Whereas superhero fans need everyone to bow down in compliance or they suffer PTSD flashbacks to being bullied for being a nerd in grade school. But that is so ridiculous because superhero/comics fans have won the culture wars so completely and in a way few subcultures ever get to experience. You’ve WON. You get 10 of your movies a year. Endless franchises. The entire industry bows down before you. You have bent the industry to your will. You’ve WON. But as we saw in This Is the End, James Franco goes to Hell for being “a sore winner.” Y’all are sore winners. Preamble over: I don’t give a shit about superheroes. However, I DO give a shit about Ryan Coogler (whose Fruitvale Station and Creed were BOTH standouts in their respective years). I think he’s a major MAJOR filmmaker, and his accomplishments here are quite literally dazzling, in all the ways that matter. The cast is superb from top to bottom, the characters are well-developed, interesting to watch, the action was gripping, not too video-game-y, and the FEELING in the whole project was exciting, energetic, and NEW. It’s 100% a total blast, but it doesn’t sacrifice emotional underpinnings running really deep. There’s a lot of emotion in this movie, and you can feel it.
dir. Jim McKay
I loved this movie so much! I was assigned to review for Ebert and it was SUCH a treat. I loved it so much it was on my Top 10 for quite a while before the fall and I started catching up on other stuff. But it’s that good and it made that much of an impression. This is not a serious down-trodden drama, although its topic (undocumented immigrants trying to get by in New York) is quite serious. Instead, it becomes – practically – a gripping sports movie in its final sequences – where I actually found myself clapping aloud in impatience and stress, wanting him to succeed, pushing him to succeed, saying, “Oh come ON” when something got in his way. I loved it so much.
dir. Paul Feig
I saw this movie twice in the theatres – here’s my review for Ebert – and I will see it again. It’s got it all. I realize that Black Panther will probably win an Oscar for Costume Design, but I think a Special Award should be given to Renee Ehrlich Kalfus for the costumes for A Simple Favor. Blake Lively’s wardrobe alone! My God, it’s fantastic. It’s unexpected. Another film would have put her in short skirts, high heels, a nod to “She’s gorgeous” and call it a day. Not here. She wears pinstripe suits with watch chains. A tuxedo suit without a blouse. Every outfit more outrageous – and yet more perfect – than the last. You never ever know what this character will do, based only on the clothes she wears. Excellent performances from everyone, a byzantine plot that makes less sense the more you think about it, and yet never once less than totally entertaining. Anna Kendrick’s offscreen line “I’m concerned about your knees right now” is still making me laugh.
dir. Adam Rifkin
Little did I know that my review would be a pre-emptive obituary, but it is. A summing-up of this man’s career, the gift of it, the gift of who he was (still was at that point), and what he has brought to our culture – rare and precious, really. It will seem more precious the further away we get from it. He had many career disappointments (many of which were self-inflicted), but he was an honest to God movie star, and The Last Movie Star was a reminder – a necessary reminder – as to WHY.
dir. Quinn Shephard
A couple of people I respect who also reviewed Blame didn’t care for it all that much, but I loved it. Here’s my review. Written by an actual high school girl (who also starred AND directed), it takes the “mean girls” genre and launches it to a whole other weirdo sicko level. Mysterious, fraught with emotional peril, beautifully shot … it’s sometimes silly, but never un-interesting, and it resists cliches. It’s brave enough to take on some topics adults might shy away from. Chris Messina is just great as the semi-loser wannabe-actor drama club teacher, who – honestly – should not left be alone with teenage girls. Very good performances from this young group of actresses. Believe me when I say: it’s not what you think it is.
dir. Rupert Everett
The movie is not perfect, but I treasure it for Everett’s insight into Wilde, in particular his insight as a gay man. So often the story of Oscar Wilde ends with the trial, with him a martyr on the block. Which, indeed, he was. But he lived for three more years, and those years are FASCINATING in what they reveal, but also in their sense of blank utter fucking tragedy. Everett understands and he does not try to “excuse” Wilde for living life dangerously, or for making “poor choices” (enough with critics weighing in on someone’s “poor choices” … if I wanted to join the PTA I would have joined the PTA, not decided to write about ART.) Everett understands that Wilde’s “choices” came out of “the closet” so to speak, and how gay men operated – in total secret, taking HUGE risks – was part of the draw. Oscar Wilde’s story has always moved me, and The Happy Prince brought me to tears. Here’s review.
dir. Andrew Bujalski
I’ve been iffy on Bujalski’s stuff in the past. But I loved this, and could not be more thrilled that Regina Hall won Best Actress at the NYFCC voting. GOOD. I’m so happy! The second I saw her performance, I knew it would be one of the performances of the year for me – it’s my kind of acting, what can I say – and I’m just thrilled that so many other people feel the same way. The film is a day-in-the-life of her character, a manager of a family-friendly (?) Hooters-type establishment, her staff a makeshift family, whom she looks out for, but whom she keeps on a short leash too. She has issues with her husband, with the restaurant owner, with the cable company, and she’s just trying to get through her DAMN DAY. All of the acting is top-notch, and I fell in love with the rhythm of the whole thing, its slow build of emotional tension, and how strongly its style and mood helped me invest – TOTALLY – in all of these characters. And watch for the scene where Regina Hall sits on the curb outside the restaurant, talking to the cable guy about getting the TVs turned back on – and then having to deal with another call coming in from a landlord trying to set up an apartment showing. This scene is what I mean when I say it’s my kind of acting. Nuts-and-bolts stuff. You don’t hear the voices on the other end. You totally believe there are other voices on the other end. Regina Hall CREATES them. Phenomenal.
dir. Sara Colangelo
Maggie Gyllenhaal gives one of the performances of the year in this, the underseen and not-talked-about-nearly-enough-if-at-all Kindergarten Teacher. I’m slightly cranky and don’t have an optimistic view of life. I’m not Eeyore, but the insistence on happy endings, morally uplifting stories, and “it all turns out right in the end” is DEEPLY alienating to me. I can groove on stories that aren’t tragic, of course. Many of the films I love show INSANE triumphs which THRILL me. But when there’s a feeling that things have to be clear, unambiguous, everyone’s choices being “right,” people trying to “be their best selves,” and that’s the only way to live … okay, that’s fine … but it’s not a requirement of art to run by those rules. The character Gyllenhaal plays in Kindergarten Teacher is extremely challenging – not for her, but for an audience. I CRINGED watching her, I gasped like “Oh my God, no, she didn’t” at her choices. I could see how this woman was way WAY off, and that taking a poetry class had made her … tip over the edge. Gyllenhaal does not judge her character, or condescend to her. She BELIEVES what this woman believes. You can see why her family loses patience. But you can also see where she’s coming from. She’s bored out of her mind. She’s been teaching 5 year olds for 20 years. She’s DYING for intellectual stimulation and – and here is where it gets dark as pitch – to feel like she’s special. Gifted. Talented. But not everyone is gifted or talented. Some people are just ordinary. This is such a bitter pill to swallow that her character basically refuses, and how she deals with this is so stressful to watch I found it hard to even finish the movie. It was a TORMENT. And I appreciate a movie that leaves room for torment. My view of the world is dark. I know people can go nuts, for no reason other than they’re lonely and lost. I went nuts because I was lonely and lost. People do unthinkable things for reasons that make total sense to them, reasons that “uplift” them, make them feel good. And the world cries out in horror (and rightly so). This is the realm Gyllenhaal, always a bold actress, unafraid of “not looking good”, lives in. She’s so so good in this.
dir. Brett Hanover
My fellow jury members and I voted this best Hometowner Narrative Feature at Indie Memphis. It’s not distributed yet, and it’s not available to seen anywhere, so although it might be unfair to include it here, I figured it might be good to keep this title – and this young Memphis filmmaker – on your radar. It’s not an easily classifiable film. Is it a documentary? Yes. Kind of? But … not really either. I wrote more about the film here. It’s haunted me ever since I saw it. Hanover is young, but he’s a bit of a phenom. An original eye.
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dir. Melissa Haizlip
One of the docs of the year for me – not released yet. It’s currently scooping up awards around the country (including at Indie Memphis, where I saw it). There’s no distribution yet, but I predict this film will be HUGE. It unearths a gigantic cultural history, super important to 20th century understanding, a short chapter (the PBS show Soul! – which came and went in a 5-year period but had enormous reverb (many people who went on to be gigantic show-biz icons got their debut on this show). I wrote about it as well at the Indie Memphis roundup. Not only is the story itself interesting, but Haizlip is a talented filmmaker, a gifted interviewer – and the sheer amount of footage she had to put together for this film is awe-inspiring. She did an incredible job.
dir. Graham Carter
A magical sweet film, which we saw and loved at Indie Memphis. I wrote about it here. It’s difficult to describe its magic, because it’s quiet, unobtrusive, but pierced through with a kind of sweet romanticism – gentle humor – that felt sincere, organic – like, this is how Graham Carter sees the world. The film is funny, and stylized – people periodically burst into song (John Prine songs, all), but it’s also so grounded in its own sensibility, its objectives. I loved its gentleness, its rough edges, its humor. It’s a small miracle.
dir. Barry Jenkins
I can’t even tell you how intense the mood was in the packed theater at Indie Memphis for the regional premiere of Barry Jenkins’ latest film, a gorgeous adaptation of James Baldwin’s novel of the same name. If you’ve read the book, then you know it doesn’t take place in Memphis, but “Beale Street” – in Baldwin’s words – has a larger meaning, connecting the black community. Stephan James is amazing (he’s had an amazing year. He was also fantastic in Homecoming, opposite Julia Roberts. He was an acting student of a friend of mine! She adored him!), but the whole cast is incredible. It is THRILLING to me that Regina King – whom I have loved since Jerry Maguire – scored the Best Supporting Actress win at the NYFCC. I don’t think I’m talking out of school when I say the surge of excitement about that vote was palpable, as was the surge of excitement when she won. Her portrayal of a mother desperate to save her son – the lengths she will go to – the mistakes she makes (there’s a scene in Puerto Rico where you feel like you’re going to explode watching – and when she bursts out sobbing, so did I), and how she digs her heels in to follow through on the courage of her convictions. It’s an insanely moving performance. It wore me OUT. Barry Jenkins’ visual style is swooningly poetic, moving the story into an almost abstract realm (in one shot, in particular), which suits the story’s gigantic implications. It’s a beautiful film.
dir. Steven Soderbergh
This was the “series” by Soderbergh which you downloaded onto your phone, and then chose how you wanted to watch it. A Choose Your Own Adventure. It was all about the byways, the different inroads, the complicated intersections of disparate people. There was a lot of WTF with this, but I thought it was so much fun, and I got lost in the maze. Sharon Stone is fantastic – perfectly cast, “all” she had to do was show up – but that’s the thing: Sharon Stone is so rarely cast where she had to “just” show up. Garrett Hedlund is always fun to watch. I thought it was a hoot.
dir. Paul Dano
Actor Paul Dano’s directorial debut. He’s got an eye. An eye for landscape, an eye for behavior, how to place people in the frame, how to widen/narrow the frame. He knows what he’s doing. An ambitious debut, I suppose, although ambitious connotes – somewhat – reaching for something. This doesn’t feel like a reach. There’s a What Maisie Knew quality about this film, although the kid in this film is older, and when he sees stuff going on with his parents, he knows more, he can put 2 and 2 together. Jake Gyllenhaal plays a good-natured guy, a talker, a charmer, who’s really just a Big Kid. A man who is married, with a kid, and he takes those responsibilities seriously, but he also kinda doesn’t “get it.” He gets fired from jobs a lot for overstepping boundaries. They’ve had to move multiple times. Mom – played by Carey Mulligan, in one of the best performances of the year – is tougher, harder. When Dad decides to join the crew fighting a forest fire far away, she’s like, “What the hell are you doing?” You get paid nothing, and you will be GONE. Why can’t you just be NORMAL and a REAL MAN? While Dad is gone, Mom starts to act out. Almost immediately. And it’s there that the story really begins. What Mom does is pretty outrageous, and calls into question the situation set up in the beginning sequences – that Mom is responsible and Dad is irresponsible. It’s fascinating. Carey Mulligan has a sharp perpetually disappointed look on her face. You can’t blame her for having HAD IT with her husband, but … there’s stuff going on with her that is way WAY beyond what her husband would be capable of. I’m not a Mulligan fan. I’ve said this before. She’s not a Leading Lady, in the romantic sense of the term. I don’t buy her in a romantic context. Her “Daisy” was … not good. To me, she’s like a big blank on the screen. However, Mudbound – which I wrote about a lot – was great for her, because she didn’t have to carry the thing, and she was part of an ensemble, and she also didn’t have to be figure of romantic desire/aspiration. (When I mentioned my lack of thrill surrounding Carey Mulligan on my site, someone asked me if I saw Mudbound. It’s okay if you don’t read me every day, but that’s the only way to keep up. Mudbound was on my Top 10 and I wrote about it extensively, here, and also for Ebert.) So anyway, despite the fact that I had never liked her in anything, I recognized what she brought to Mudbound. She’s even better here. Maybe when she’s in stuff where you’re supposed to like her, admire her, want her, I’m just not seeing it. She’s so blah. But when she’s in stuff where she’s supposed to be part of the background, and pissed about it, she’s better, she’s got edges, she’s PISSED. Maybe she’s pissed that she’s NOT the Leading Lady. (Not HER the person, but the characters she plays.) That’s what’s going on in Wild Life. Her behavior is really quite appalling, and she not once pleads for our sympathy. She doesn’t give a shit. I admire the HELL out of this quality in an actress. It’s rare. I also admire her for her answer to the RIDICULOUS question asked at a QA about how she could play such an “unlikable character.” We are a soft soft people, we have created people who ask such stupid questions, whose engagement with art is ONLY on a moralistic basis. And these people are liberal/progressive, so don’t feel all superior. Don’t these people realize that “unlikable” (so-called) characters are the meatiest, the best roles? Of COURSE she wanted to play this mother role. It’s one of the best roles she’s ever had. She’s phenomenal.
dir. Ali Soozandeh
Very depressing animated film, following a series of characters – who all live in the same high-rise – in modern-day Tehran, who break all the taboos in the culture – and, of course, there are many taboos. Endless taboos. They don’t break the taboos to be “daring” or to “stick it to the man.” They break the taboos because they are forced to. Such a rigid culture allows no wiggle-room. And so prostitution flourishes. Unwed mothers flourish. Lost Boys with nowhere to go flourish. Tehran seethes with discontent, with sneaking around, with a black market – all of which are – actually – healthy responses to an insane environment, rampant with a double-standard for men and women. Human beings are going to figure out ways to survive, even if you set rules meant to limit their choices. This is a bleak film, with beautiful rotoscope animation.
dir. Morgan Neville
I wouldn’t call this a particularly well-done documentary, but I would call it essential viewing, especially if you are going to watch Orson Welles’ The Other Side of the Wind. It contextualizes him, it, that time in his life, and after, the mistakes he made, the mystery of him. Morgan Neville had another busy year, with this and Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
dir. Alexander Baack
A beautiful, funny and thought-provoking rom-com, about a deaf woman who falls in love with a blind man. Hillary Baack, the actress, is deaf, and Paul Guyet, the actor, is blind, so this setup has a verisimilitude it would lack if abled actors had been cast. The script (by Alexander and Hillary, who are married) is funny and touching – illuminating about disability and how disabled people are treated – but the touch is light. You get the point, it’s not hammered at you. Both actors have tremendous natural charm, and their chemistry feels real, based on similar senses of humor. Sally Struthers is incredible as the man’s mother, happy her son has found someone, deeply invested in the couple’s happiness. But also hilarious. The performance has it all. My wonderful brother, Brendan O’Malley, plays the “sidekick” to the lead, a sidekick who has his own life going on, his own goals and dreams. He’s an essential addition to the story. I’ve seen the film a couple of times, and it has worked every time. You care about what happen to these people. I interviewed Alexander about the film. It’s streaming now. Go find it!
dir. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
This movie is kind of difficult to describe – although I attempted to do so in my review. I loved it so much. It’s kind of sort of the story of Gerhard Richter, a German painter, still alive and still productive after six damn decades of making work. But this is no ordinary biopic. It’s a portrait of a kid who grew up in Dresden, surrounded by Nazis (his father refused to join the Party), who is then trapped behind the Iron Curtain after the war. All along, his feelings about art are developing. But they’re not allowed to develop, because any ideological political group – like the Nazis, like the Communists – have a vested interest in controlling artists, telling them what they can and cannot convey, or whatever they DO convey they are told HOW to convey it. (There is a connection here to the guy who asked that question of Carey Mulligan. It’s an ideological question. He was trying to seem “woke.” Don’t you want to play an empowered woman? If you were “in charge,” sir, you would set about telling artists what to convey and how to convey it, I have no doubt.) So this kid is caught in the crosshairs of these ideologies. Gerhard Richter eventually escaped from East Germany into West Germany, where it was like emerging from a time machine. Surrounded by interpretive art, surrealist art, “installations,” performance art pieces – the whole ridiculous nine yards – he starts to think about who he is, what he has to say. Again, this doesn’t really describe the film, or how it does what it does. It’s a very moving panorama, but – lest it sound totally serious – with some really light-hearted moments, almost slapstick, particularly in his romance with a young fashion designer student. There are connections to be made, under the surface, political realities to be faced – former Nazis turned into good Communists – the whole texture of his world. I love Gerhard Richter (as I wrote about in my review), so this movie was a feast for the mind and soul. I learned a lot. Loved it.
dir. Barry Levinson
Not to be rude but I do try to avoid most critical commentary. Especially in real time. I go back to re-visit what critics were saying after I see the thing. But I try my hardest not to be drenched in other people’s opinions before I see something. I had no real desire to see Paterno, mainly because I find the whole story so disgusting, and the culture of Penn State even more so, and after a couple of years dealing with headlines about these sociopaths, I was done. But one day I decided, Sheila, it’s Pacino, you HAVE to watch it. I read some critiques later which said they didn’t like the film because it focused too much on Paterno and not the victims. Memo From Sheila: The film is called Paterno. Of course its focus is Paterno. Review the movie that’s there, not the one you think the artists should have made. Besides, the victims HAUNT this thing, even MORE so in their absence. The absence of them highlights Paterno’s absolute incomprehension and indifference about what had gone on on his watch. It takes him FOREVER to get the magnitude of it, and also how much trouble he is in. That nothing, nothing, will go back to normal. And maybe people watching didn’t give a shit? Who cares about an old man who doesn’t get it? was maybe how they thought. Well, okay. Shrug. If that’s what you think. But from my perspective, what is interesting is the sociopathic narcissistic one-thing-only focus of that football program, and how it was the cover for a predator, and how Paterno – as the creeeeeepy final shot shows – knew, or at least sensed. He was not an idiot. He knew. He just didn’t care. Just speaking for myself, but that’s a far more interesting story. Or, at least, this is the story of Paterno. What helps all of this is Al Pacino’s performance, one of his best in years, one of his best in general. What I loved so much about it is that Paterno the character “robbed” Pacino of his schtick. Pacino’s schtick is “I talk very softly for a while, and I am calm and rational, and then I SUDDENLY START SHOUTING FOR A LONG TIME … WITH BIG PAUSES … AND THE WHOLE ROOM STOPS BECAUSE I AM SO POWERFUL AND FILLED WITH CONVICTION.” And listen, he’s great at it. But it is schtick, make no mistake. It’s his fallback position. Joe Paterno is so repressed, so single-minded (always yearning with his body and mind to get back to his man-cave where he can watch football), that he descends into a kind of dementia right before our eyes. He does not understand what is happening. He is 10 steps behind. Surrounded by family members and lawyers, all of whom GET how huge this is going to be, Paterno is a baffled hunched-over passive presence, who continues to think this will all blow over, who has no sense of what is the right thing to do because he’s not getting it in the first place, who cannot “step up” into a leadership position – despite his status at Penn State – because there’s honestly NOTHING there. There is NOTHING going on with the man but football. And so Pacino couldn’t throw a satisfying tantrum, couldn’t even flare up in anger or self-defense. This man is too confused, too passive, too utterly incompetent to respond in any way. This is a very brave performance because it doesn’t allow him to do the things he always gets kudos for, the things that are considered “good acting.” All of that is stripped away. And he looks very old, very tired, and – worst of all – very confused. It’s a really really good performance.
dir. Yorgos Lanthimos
As a single person in a culture which prizes coupledom, I found Lanthimos’ dystopian weirdo The Lobster thrilling (my review here). But he’s hit or miss for me. The Favourite is racking up awards, and appearing on many Top 10s, and I don’t quite see it. It’s definitely not one of the best of the year, not even close, but it does feature three great performances, from Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, and the machinations of that royal court are very entertaining. Normally we see men jostling for power. Here it’s women. What was interesting to me was the different kinds of power being jostled for, and how this highlighted a conflict particular to women: Rachel Weisz’s character uses her closeness to the Queen to wield real political power. That’s why she does what she does. She is an advisor, a chief of staff, the Queen is so out of it that she needs this input. Everyone turns to Weisz for decision-making. She’s making enormous choices about troop deployments and military activities. This is HER power. For Emma Stone it’s different. Getting close to the Queen for her means a safe haven, an umbrella where she can live her personal life as she sees fit. Marry, party, whatever. She needs the power of the Queen to get there. Rachel Weisz’s character wants to be in the man’s world, where real power lies. Emma Stone couldn’t give a shit about that. She just wants to be ensconced beside the Queen so she has protection. This battle, this conflict of interests, still goes on in the ranks of feminism, and it’s a worthy fight to have. Focusing only on personal empowerment is – in many ways – the definition of privilege. Of course men don’t have to choose between the personal and the political. And they’ve botched it all up. But women botch it up too. And there isn’t room for more than ONE woman in the hornet’s nest, there’s only one “favourite.” Who’s it gonna be? Still, the rapturous response to this film is slightly baffling to me. It just didn’t have that effect on me.
dir. Paweł Pawlikowski
As a companion piece to his extraordinary 2014 film Ida (my thoughts here), Cold War shows another side of Poland’s frozen-in-time culture during the decades of Soviet domination. In both films, music plays a huge role. In Ida, there are jazz clubs, a saxophonist, clubs. In Cold War, there’s “traditional” folk music of Poland, and then there’s rock ‘n roll, and jazz. There’s a chilling portrait here of how a folk-music and folk-dance company was put together, their successes, their travels – but you know that this is really just a propagada push from the Polish Communist overlords, and their Soviet puppeteers. Nationalism was something to be co-opted and used – it could not be allowed to flourish on its own. You’re not Polish, you’re Socialist. Severing people’s loyalty to their countries – severing that identity – was a huge part of Soviet policy towards the nations under its umbrella. There’s a reason why immediately following the Berlin Wall crumbling, genocidal wars broke out all over the place. Nationalist movements exploded. It was always there, just iced over by the Communists. So this folk-music group is totted out to admiring guests, some of them Western, to basically say, “Look at our happy peasants! Singing the folk songs and doing their traditional dances they’ve been doing for centuries. Nothing wrong here! They love being Socialists.” They sing with a gigantic banner of Stalin behind them. So this was one of the most fascinating aspects of Cold War, which takes place over a 10, 15-year period. But, in essence, it’s a love story, and a painful heartbreaking one at that. Monica Castillo wrote about the love story aspect of it over at Ebert.
dir. Jason Reitman
I had a pretty vehement disagreement with a young dude on Twitter about this movie. One of his comments was: “Why was abortion never mentioned?” It was such a clueless comment I didn’t even know how to respond. You think every woman who gets pregnant – even unexpectedly – thinks of getting an abortion? Kiddo, you’ve gotta get out more. Stop trying to be “woke.” This is a married couple, and yes, the pregnancy is unplanned, they’re already overwhelmed, but … what … they’re gonna abort the baby? In what universe? Why? I know plenty of women who are pro-choice but would never in a million years get an abortion themselves. I know plenty of married women with a couple of kids already who would never in a million years get an abortion. Not for religious reasons, but because they themselves will accept a baby if it comes. THAT’S WHAT BEING PRO-CHOICE MEANS. CHOICE. THE WORD CHOICE IS DELIBERATE. CHOICE. CHOICE. There are some aspects to this film that didn’t work for me. It doesn’t quite hang together. But what does work, works like gangbusters. Charlize Theron’s performance in Young Adult was one of my favorites in recent memory. If the world were fair, she would have won the Oscar for THAT and not Monster. She’s so believably out of it in Tully that you ache for her to get some sleep. When Tully – a so-called “night nanny” shows up – played by Mackenzie Davis, an actress I’m really excited about (every since Always Shine, my review here – things start to shift. And things start to get weird. I have not had a child, nor will I ever have a child, but I have enough friends who have to know that this is a creepily accurate portrait of just how devastating pregnancy can be – physically. Your body’s a mess, your hormones are all over the place, you’re in a brain fog, you’re sleep-deprived … everyone wants something from you, your obligations never end. And you’re not COMPLAINING because you love your kids, but STILL. Tully is funny and smart and disturbing.
