Kantroversy: Getting Off on the Loving to Hate

Current Events update: Kanye West interrupted Taylor Swift's moonman acceptance speech. And it caused the world to explode in righteous indignation.

Are we not punishing Kanye for providing exactly the kind of theatrics we’ve come to expect from him, the kind of famously egotistical outbursts that have turned him into a divisive but iconic figure? Sure, the public's loud, unceasing vitriol is amusing, only because people seem so energized by their own hate and capital-S Shock! at what happened. "How dare he!" we like to proclaim as if we're coming to Taylor Swift's defense within her earshot, but villifying the man isn't any kind of brave act or political statement. Calling him a "douche" is about as meaningless and ineffectual as, well, calling someone who can't hear you a "douche."

Kanye was being exactly the kind of outlandish, self-involved artist we, to some degree, WANT him to be. His reputation for such behavior provides us with a set of expectations, a certain sense of character background and foreshadowing in the great Joyce-ian narrative that is the ensemble piece of pop culture. He provides that dramatic conflict that not only attracts and titillates viewers, but it also laces his own music with hidden layers; by establishing a public persona, he can peel it away within his lyrics.

I hope that if he takes this "time to think" that he's proposed, he gets the chance to watch the frustrating documentary "Shut Up and Sing" about the Dixie Chicks' fallout after their anti-Bush sentiment. Oh, Kanye, interrupt European dance-pop gurus Justice if you must, but never create a victim out of a conservative-values figurehead; you'll find yourself ceremoniously turned into a joyless symbol of "the wrong." Kanye's never hesitated to bait the public before with egotism or grand overstatements, but beware of baiting the piranha-like "moral defenders". They're unforgiving, despite their credos.

I think Kanye dramatically underestimated how much the public views Taylor Swift (as a 19 year-old white, "pure" country artist) as an innocent child rather than the uberfamous musical colleague Kanye probably sees her as, or at least saw her as in the environment of the Video Music Awards. This will never (and shouldn't) affect his album sales, but my worry is that the demonization of Kanye--"he interrupted a little girl!!!"--doesn't become a long shadow hanging over his career, a darkness the public chooses to hang over his head, requesting act upon act of contrition. He always has been an envelope-pushing entertainer and, sheesh, are we not entertained?

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:

What did I miss?

Any other lists you're craving?

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Best of the Decade: 10-6

Junebug - 2005

The "main character" in "Junebug" is almost not a character at all. The man who brings his new wife to visit his rootsy Southern home has few lines, no real cinematic presence. (I've watched this movie several times and I coudn't even give you the name of the actor.) And yet, his inclusion in a scene brings about huge, poignant moments from the characters around him. "Junebug", on paper, is a fish-out-of-water story, the artsy urban wife (Embeth Davidtz) thrown into the broken interactions of a tightknit, traditional family. But "Junebug" is an incredibly endearing story about goodness, about how to be present for the ones we love, something easily lost when the modern world gives us a false feeling of connectedness.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - 2004
Charlie Kaufman is the generally acknowledged king of post-MTV magical realism. (The urban Kundera, maybe? I don't know. Whatever.) "Being John Malkovich" and "Adaptation" may go down as his most brain-itchingly intricate pieces, but "Eternal Sunshine" will always be the script where he found his heart or, at least, was finally unafraid to show it. And with Michel Gondry behind the camera and Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey shining in front of it like never before, "Eternal Sunshine" struck an immediate chord with a generation that wasn't sure if it was disaffected by romance or not. Emotionally raw but visually fantastical, "Eternal Sunshine" explored clever hypotheticals about time, love, and memory, but it kept coming back to that beating heart at its center: love is frustrating, painful, complicated, and worth it.

Shattered Glass - 2003
The protagonist is a pathological liar, and a committed one at that. As he spin lies into widely-praised articles for The New Republic in the mid-90s, the film delves deeply into Stephen Glass's fractured psychology and the extreme steps he takes to ensure his stature as a golden boy. Hayden Christensen, of all people, gives a tour-de-force performance across from an equally compelling (but more understated) Peter Sarsgaard as the new editor who suspects Glass of foul play (and loses most of his employees' loyalty for questioning the popular kid.) Despite knowing how it ends, the inside-journalism mystery-cracking is still exciting and the office politics are dead-on. Most of all, though, the film lets the character reveal though his own actions, tics, and lies, the deep-seated (but not easily forgiven) psychological layers that led him to such corruption.

Wall-E - 2008

For the sake of efficiency, I'm just going to reprint what I wrote when I named it the best film of last year:
"Wall-E is, for the first half anyway, nearly an experimental film. The lack of dialogue, the apocalyptic landscapes, the tiny, quirky life of a robot—it almost sounds like a film Dieter would have pitched. And yet, Wall-E is instantly and deeply emotional in its quiet movements. It’s a Chaplin film in which the slapstick is understated and the world is vast and gorgeously colored. And, good Lord, the inventiveness involved is simply staggering, from the overall concept to those incredibly tender moments using—of all things!—music and footage from "Hello, Dolly!" Almost single-handedly, it reminded me just how wondrous the cinematic experience can be.

Wall-E, in its second half, sharply addresses waste-lot/want-lot culture with satire that’s so playful it becomes hopeful. Too many wrongly pigeonholed Wall-E as An Inconvenient Robot; it’s about far more than environmental protection. It’s about clinging to our own identities as human beings rather than our identities as consumers looking for the next fix. (Remember when the bloated future people were offered a new color in their bland, monochrome unitards? Brilliant!)

It’s about the persevering force of optimism. It’s about the very value of life, and it’s revelatory in its presentation of the message. Wall-E feels like—and, I believe, is—a film that will be seen as a groundbreaking achievement in its flawless, technical beauty; in its bold, risky storytelling; and in its ability to ask mass audiences to set down their Extra Large Cokes and pay attention to the present and wonder—quite hopefully—about the future."

Almost Famous - 2000

Show me the music, Cameron Crowe. "Almost Famous" is the rare film in which every character in a large ensemble is perfectly, brilliantly used, from Fairuza Balk's payphone call with William's mother (Frances McDormand in a shoulda-won-an-Oscar performance) to Zooey Deschenal's loving, rebel-spirited flight attendant sister to Jimmy Fallon (!) as a manager who really inaccurately predicts the future of the Rolling Stones. All are wonderfully-drawn escorts on William's Odyssey-like journey of trying to write an article for Rolling Stone about the band Stillwater. But he's also trying to reaffirm his untainted faith in his rock god idols and they're trying to let him reaffirm their faith in the music. Sharp and poetic, unexpectedly moving, it just may be the best film ever made about rock and roll.

Any guesses at what #1 will be? Hint: it's very likely that it's the only film you've ever seen by its director.

Best of the Decade: 15-11

Memento - 2000

I still remember when "Memento" came to a theater near me. I saw it on the marquee of our local Regal and gasped "Oh my God" so intensely that my high school carpool driver slammed down on the breaks, thinking my outburst referred to some spectral image on the road before her. (Sorry, Lindsey!) I was giddily shocked that this buzzy indie I had heard so much about was actually in a theater in my county. I talked my dad into taking me--on a school night!--and, incredibly, the movie lived up to the hype. (Even if my dad accurately predicted the ending about 45 minutes into the movie. The bastard.) "Memento" was Christopher Nolan's coming-out party, his Hollywood-geek cotillion, and in my humble estimation, nothing he's done since has lived up to the brainy, twisty genius of it (although the teaser for "Inception" looks pretty nifty, no?). "Memento" plays a game with its audience, puts them in its protagonist's shoes, and then tells revenge tale that may not be what it seems. It repeatedly makes your jaw drop and in flashes, grabs at your heart.

Shrek - 2001

Yes, "Shrek."

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World - 2003

It's a little funny that two overly-titled (with colons!) sea-faring movies came out in 2003 and both brought something modern audiences hadn't seen in a long time: really exciting naval warfare. And while I do love that first "Pirates" movie (I tolerate the second and still don't understand 94% of the third), it's "Master and Commander" that I happily watch again and again, my respect for Peter Weir's craftsmanship growing every time. Besides being beautifully made, "Master and Commander" is a rare bird: it's about smart, honest, good men who all respect each other and just want to make decisions that benefit their ship and their country. No gimmicks (although there is an awesome Galapagos sequence) or hostility for drama's sake. I envy the children who first found their role models in the Patrick O'Brien characters, but I'm thankful Weir brought them to the screen so gracefully in "Master and Commander" (which truly gets better with every watch.)



About Schmidt - 2002

Dear Ndugu,

"Election" put Alexander Payne on the map and "Sideways" made him the auteur dujour, but it's this in-between film that resonates most for me. Following his retirement and his wife's death, the title character treks across the country in his camper to get to his daughter's wedding (to Dermot Mulroney, doing the best Keanu Reeves impression ever captured on film) but the journey's intention is something far heavier: Schmidt wants to know why he's on earth. What's the point of it all? Schmidt doesn't really get any straight answers, but rather a series of emotional highs and lows, memories and discoveries that don't so much give clarity as opaque meaning. And why is Alexander Payne one of the only directors who can make voiceover work so dramatically well? I don't know either.

Best,

Aaron

Crash -2005

Yeah, I can hear the collective eyeroll from the cineaste crowd. (Maybe I spend too much time on blogs where haterade is the new black coffee.) But I'll always defend "Crash," as a fantasy, as a parable, as a hold-my-breath gut-wrenchingly effective ensemble drama. Yes, it's about racism, but it explores so well the painful, barely-shadowed fears behind each hate. It's about the way society--society being all of us--punishes those who live up to our expectations of them. It's about well-drawn characters carving out their point of view. Even though I've seen it at least half a dozen times, I still get lost in all the dramatic tension, hovering closer and closer to the edge of my seat while big questions hang in the air, waiting to be asked during the credit sequence.

What am I thinking?

Best of the Decade: 20-16

Munich - 2005

Speilberg shot this movie essentially a few months before its release and Tony Kushner was writing segments of dialogue on set. "Munich" has to be one of the most successful rush jobs in cinematic history. Dissecting the harsh, vengeance-laden aftermath of the Israeli hostage situation at the Munich Olympics, "Munich" deftly balances dramatic thrills and unsettling themes. How much effect do these revenge assassinations have on the Hydra-like enemy hierarchy? And what effect do they have on the souls of the assassinators?

Bend it Like Beckham - 2002

"Bend it Like Beckham" is unlike any other movie that involves teenagers and misunderstandings. Watch the way that several of Jesminder's troubles--fear of showing her legs, sister's in-laws thinking she's a floozy--get solved by rational discussion. Any other movie would drag out these dramas, but "Beckham" loves its characters too much to let them suffer zany antics more appropriate for a Shakespeare-in-high-school comedy. "Beckham" also feels like this decade's most successful attempt at teenage feminism, richly lacing it with sports and melting-pot cultural divides but never making it about girls who just want to be "like the boys." They're proudly feminine.

In the Bedroom - 2001

About as emotionally wrenching as any drama about grieving parents should be, "In the Bedroom" separates itself from similar films because of how richly textured that grief becomes, the many ways it manifests itself in the lives of Matt and Ruth Fowler. They go through their stages apart from each other until one mutual feeling--revenge--brings them momentarily together. Based on an Andres Dubus short story, "In the Bedroom" is a surprising and harrowing take on how destructive the act of coping can become.

Slumdog Millionaire - 2008

As the internet continues to strengthen the overall feeling of global interconnectedness, American audiences seemed perfectly primed for the arrival of a high-concept, familiarly-themed, excitingly-made film from a major but distant country like India. (The way the public enthusiastically embraced it reminded me of all the Beijing Opening Ceremonies talk from earlier that year.) And "Slumdog" was perfectly timed, the right movie at the right moment; but Danny Boyle's masterpiece is, even out of its historical context, a brilliant and affecting piece of filmmaking. Tracing Jamal's quest through the slums and a (too?) rapidly developing urban India tingles the senses and grips the heart.

Inside Man - 2006

With its New York street corner dynamism and murky social politics, "Inside Man" seems at first like a sleek remake of a 1970s heist movie. Even Denzel Washington's hat seems fashionably plucked from an earlier era. Spike Lee's (until then, unseen) masterful touch for high-stakes boiler room tension, though, spins the story into a modern context. Everyone around our hero (Washington) plays mind games and makes power grabs, complicating a bank robbery that's a brain-teaser to begin with. Lee and writer Russell Gewirtz (his first feature!) never waste a line or even a frame; every moment provides deep character insight, plot twists, and winking modern social messages. It's so crafty and satsfying, it's one I always want to watch again as soon as it's ended.

Thanks for reading!

Best of the Decade: 25-21

Lost in Translation - 2003

A lyrical, melancholy character piece that helped everyone totally forget about "Godfather Part III," this Tokyo-set film is Sofia Coppola's exploration of aging, of hoping life's questions will be answered simply by growing up. Bill Murray and Scarlett Johanssen give great, aching performances as two people who feel lost despite the fact that things are more or less going their way. They use each other to work through these pains and it's a stark, hopeful reminder of just how much of life is made up of relationships.

Michael Clayton - 2007
I just didn't think Clooney had it in him. The man's contagious charms have made many a movie work, but even "Syriana" didn't prepare me for his performance in "Michael Clayton." His iconic face is masked only by the weight of the character's dilemmas and I'll never forget the way that final shot left me speechless. "Clayton" is about the critical point in a life where one can choose to grow a conscience or not. Michael struggles to commit while navigating his way through an ugly corporate conspiracy and the terrific performances from Tilda Swinton and Tom Wilkinson raise the game.

Murderball - 2005
This incredibly crafted doc helped spur forth a cult fanbase for wheelchair rugby, or murderball. And don't get me wrong, while the undercurrents of sensationalism while watching specially-designed wheelchairs pound into each other is addictive, this documentary works so well because it treats each player as an unfolding story, men who have to redefine their goals without redefining themselves as people. It's certainly inspirational (and rude, hilarious, honest, inventive...) but I feel like that's underselling it. It's simply great filmmakers working with fascinating subjects.

Far from Heaven - 2002

I won't claim to be proficient in the works of Douglas Sirk, but you kind of know an homage when you see one. And yet Todd Haynes' meticulously styled melodrama is very much its own living, dyanmic, current movie. As looming social forces start to creep into the Whitaker home, mother Cathy--Julianne Moore, who needs to takes some more great roles these days--suffers quietly at first. But then it's not suffering anymore; Cathy lets go of the notions of a pre-determined life and accepts the challenges of not knowing her future, but knowing her impulses. Slowly and quietly, you watch her grow a soul.

School of Rock - 2003

Is there a musical number more joyously infectious than the climactic title tune in "School of Rock"? I think it's pretty telling that when I Google Image searched "School of Rock" for screenshots, most of the results were from actual rock schools modeled after the film. The Jack Black-anchored "School" is funny and warm; every character has a good heart and a clever edge (except for Sarah Silverman). It's also one of the most honest movies about the experience of being a rock fan--as these amateurs/kids come together under the umbrella of fandom and homework, they pull inspiration from their predecessors and keep the evolution of art going.

Do you crave more of my musings? You probably do!

I'm on twitter.

Best of the Decade: 30-26

The Counterfeiters - 2007

Based on the true story of Operation Bernhand, in which specially-selected Jews in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp were forced to counterfeit enemy currency and disrupt their economies, "The Counterfeiters" begins with incredible material. But writer/director Stefan Ruzowitzsky never rests on the premise; working in stark earth tones and framing his actors like portraits, he creates an unsettling atmosphere that mirrors his characters' fear as they choose whether or not to blur their morality.

The Departed - 2006

Despite a Best Picture Oscar, The Departed still seems to carry an air of Scorsese-selling-out. Whatever. If this is Scorsese selling out, I wish he'd done it earlier. Working with the most densely-plotted script of his career, The Departed is both sharp and pulpy; it plays like an Italian opera in the grimy Boston streets. It's a brilliant exercise in tension and reveals and it completely holds up after each viewing.

Letters from Iwo Jima - 2006

"Letters from Iwo Jima" was more than a rebound after Eastwood's deeply-flawed "Flags of Our Fathers" failed to wow anyone. It was a brilliantly-crafted modern masterpiece, weaving personal tales of war together through the lens of Iwo Jima's Japanese soldiers. Many filmmakers have tried to capture wars from "the enemy's perspective" but the effect is always overly-didactic. Eastwood, though, keeps the movements intimate and it makes his themes about war's universal experiences ring truer.

Up the Yangtze - 2007

When I think of good documentaries, the words "powerful" and "enlightening" might come to mind, but until "Up the Yangtze" I never would have thought "gorgeous." The cinematography is so arresting, it's almost too easy to ignore the rest. But the rest--which chronicles the effect the building of the Three Gorges Dam has on a few different Chinese citizens--is an eye-opening experience, especially for an American audience. (Watching some of the American and European tourists on the Chinese cruise ships are enough to make any non-jigoist cringe.) But the power lies in the characters' seemingly hopeless fight to change their lives in a China that's changing more rapidly than their dreams can manage.

Dawn of the Dead - 2004

I hope history is kinder to "Watchmen" than the present, because I truly believe Zack Snyder is a visionary filmmaker. The greatest argument for that case, however, is 2004's urgent, absurd, thrill-a-minute remake of "Dawn of the Dead." With no explanation, the virus starts spreading and zombies walk the earth. We hide in a mall--and I do mean "We"; Snyder pulls you right into the action, fighting the undead beside the characters--and one gruesome set piece after another ratchets up the tension and the film's quickening pulse. "Dawn of the Dead" is startling and immediate and you can't think about anything else when you watch it; it may be the most viscerally satisfying movie of the decade.

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