Best of the Decade: 5-1

There Will Be Blood - 2007

Easy Way Out: Reprinting what I wrote when I named it my favorite film of 2007

"The title alone deserves prizes, but the way it breaks down in this wonderfully epic and wholly personal story is something unexpected. There Will Be: never before—not that I can think of—has a filmmaker used the future tense to such advantage as Anderson has. There Will Be Blood maintains a constant sense of foreboding, of inescapable forward movement, the world turning. Johnny Greenwood's ominous score punctuates the actions of malicious oilman Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) with percussive notes that seem to whisper, “There. Will. Be. There. Will. Be.” And the editing is something marvelous; it seems, at first, as revolutionary as Eisenstein. Every shot propels you into the next. The present never seems like anything more than the set-up for the future.

And then: Blood. There's shockingly little of the red stuff onscreen—it pops up occasionally in all the right places—but it's always flowing in the undercurrents. Plainview's salvation, acting under the assumption he has a soul that can be saved, is in the oil, the black blood beneath his feet. And for Eli Sunday, the charismatic and overconfident young hillside preacher, the blood of Christ is his ticket. It brings him the attention and subservience that give his life value. And then there will be fathers and sons and even brothers and the blood that runs between them, poison that can be passed between generations.

While Plainview exists outside archetype for the most part, I couldn't help but be reminded of Tony Soprano who, had they shared a birth year, probably would have been his spiteful rival. They are American men of the highest regard, admired for their ambition and psychoanalyzed for their eternal winters of discontent. Tony struggles to make sense of the family he’s been given, though, whereas Daniel tries to force sense out of the family he creates for himself and almost succeeds in doing so.

When the elements are taken together, Anderson has drafted a clear portrait of how the past shall haunt the future as economic greed and corrupt religious fervor continue a tenuous partnership. When one is destroyed, the other is “finished.” Anderson, once on the cusp of doing something revolutionary, has more than fulfilled his early promises with a picture of bloody brilliance."

The Class - 2008

Like the fourth season of The Wire (aka greatest show of all time except maybe for Mad Men but I don't wanna get into that right now) condensed into two (French) hours, "The Class" is frustrating because it feels painfully real and sadly familiar. This urban classroom--in which we spend almost the entirety of the film--is a typical microcosm of a Western Europe that's becoming a melting pot so quickly, the teachers can't keep up. Unlike any inspirational-teacher movie you've ever seen, the Palm D'Or winner shows how frustratingly powerless the individual can be against rapidly changing social and political forces. Plus, there's the hurbis of youth to contend against. Worst of all, François Bégaudeau, playing a version of himself (the movie is based on his experience as a teacher) has to make sacrifices every day that seemingly benefit no one: students for other students, knowledge for order, depth for simplicity of understanding. And yet, amidst all the docudrama, you can't ignore the feeling that the students are better for having sat through his class. And that you are, too.


The Incredibles - 2004
There's an anger in Brad Bird that can't be contained. His movies--Iron Giant, Ratatouille, and this one--all seem fueled by some great internal frustration with society. Thank God he channels it into these animated gems, none more brilliant, exciting, and quietly revelatory than "The Incredibles." The movie tackles quite the mature list of issues (man finding his meaning, idol worship, familial ties, honoring the weak, etc.) and Brad Bird resists the urge (if there was one) to slap a smiley-face on it, Kids' Meals contractual statements be damned. Claiming his inspiration was frustration with "every kid getting a trophy just for showing up," Bird creates a world in which the truly special (superheroes) are denied the use of their talents. Bird is using a Pixar movie to give a middle finger to the generation of child-rearers that believe self-esteem is more important (and attainable) than action, than drive, than truly aspiring to something. And speaking of action, this movie has it all and it executes each set piece wondrously. As the titular super family reunites and kicks ass while taking names, Bird seems to be in the background shouting, "Earn your f***ing trophies!"


Children of Men - 2006
There's nothing clever or sleek about the dystopian future in Alfonso Cuaron's "Childen of Men." Rather, it's unsettlingly possible, at least in a visual sense. Nature and urban decay bleed into each other across invisible dividing lines, violence built into the very design of the world. Our hero is a reluctant, broken soul and every shot that captures Theo's (Clive Owen's) eyes reminds us of how little he has left to fight for. Despite all this, it's a call for hope. (In some ways, it's the quintessential pre-Obama Obama movie.)

Cuaron's direction is gorgeous; he's a master conductor of the story's symphony of bursting explosions and soft silences. Substance stays rightfully atop style, however, as a ripping-at-the-seams, jingoist public becomes the battleground for private fears. (It's not so hard to picture, is it?) Protecting Kee--the literal key to humanity's future--is Theo's desperate last act of redemption and it's a harrowing privilege to watch him fight his way through it.




The Lives of Others - 2006

"I shouldn't listen to Beethoven's Appassionata piano sonata too often. Otherwise, I feel like petting children's heads and will never finish my revolution." -Lenin

"What if Lenin could have somehow been forced to listen to the Appassionata, just as he was getting ready to smash in somebody's head? … I 'saw' a picture of a man in a depressing room, with earphones on his head, expecting to hear words that go against his beloved ideology, but actually hearing a music so beautiful and so powerful that it makes him re-think." -Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, director of "The Lives of Others"

I'll keep it atypically brief. "The Lives of Others" follows Hauptmann Wiesler (the sadly deceased Ulrich Muhe), a surveillance specialist in East Germany's secret police in 1984 as he's assigned to keep tabs on a playwright and actress suspected of anti-Communist leanings. But like a good soap opera, he gets tangled in their personal dramas (although their bleak plights are made of stuff a soap wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.) And then slowly, the transformation begins and everything they say that would otherwise damn them inspires Wiesler while giving him a heartache. He breaks his own rules to grow closer to them, to protect them. The plot's movements come together in beautiful, unexpected ways and its characters are damaged, complex, and thankfully articulate. Art can change minds, change lives, the film claims, and after one of the best final scenes in modern cinema, you'll have to agree.

So, tell me:

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