Safe (1995)

There's a famous story by Charlotte Perkins Gilman called "The Yellow Wallpaper" that I had to read for sophomore year in high school. It's about an unnamed woman who descends into madness after she spends months inside a room at home believing that she's severely depressed, and her husband, a doctor, seems oblivious to her feelings. She starts to obsess over the queasy yellow wallpaper in the room, whose swirling design seems to constantly change, and whose color rubs off on whoever touches it. Eventually, she sees what looks like a woman crawling on all fours behind bars, and in a bout of madness, rips the entire wallpaper off. Her husband comes in, faints, and she says, "I've got out at last."

Todd Haynes' "Safe" doesn't dare to let its protagonist, or audience, escape. In one scene, Carol (Julianne Moore), similarly "diseased" like the woman in "The Yellow Wallpaper," lies down next to her fellow camper at an environmentalist retreat, partners in one of many spiritual exercises. When asked to recount to her partner a room she remembers living in during childhood, she says: "There was yellow wallpaper..." and is interrupted by an ambulance, announcing the death of one of the inmates.

"Safe" is, more than anything else, a great and important L.A. movie. Not only does it display some of our most memorable highways and venues, but it digs deep into the core of how privileged, upper-middle-class Southern Californians feel all the time. Or in the late 1980's, at least. In a way, it's David Lynch's "Rabbits" segment of "Inland Empire" stretched out to a feature length film, complete with fuzzy, low-lit photography and detached high camera angles. It reaches a similar kind of realism as "Short Cuts" (also starring Moore), except Haynes takes into account the faux-religious (or, should I say, cultish) influences that lure these rich, unhappy people into believing that they have the cure. This movie is about Scientology and The Kaballah Center, but it's also about me.

There's a particularly funny scene where Moore's stepson reads out an essay at the dinner table: "In the 80's there are more gangs in the Los Angeles basin. Plus, many more stabbings and shootings by AK-47s, Uzis, and Mac 10s, killing numerous innocent people. L.A. was the gang capital of America. Rapes, riots, slashing throats...are all common in the black ghettos of L.A." "Why does it have to be so gory?" Carol asks. "Gory? That's how it really is! God," he replies. This is the whitest family you've ever seen, and watching Carol's bafflement is a hilarious display of her ignorance. Does Carol really have problems if those people have it so bad? Later on, the son asks how "uzi" is spelled. "Exactly the way it sounds," says his father (Xander Berkeley).

Carol impulsively gets her straight red hair permed, which, as we see later, is a result of her trying to fit in. There's a neat use of color coding throughout the film, such as when Carol is at a party with her friends, each of them wearing a distinctly different color of the rainbow, each of them permed to perfection. Later on in the film, while Carol watches a commerical on TV, we see color bars, and then the title card: "WHERE ARE YOU?" This is the turning point of the film, where Carol becomes convinced that she, like several others, suffers from "environmental illness."

But don't we all have environmental illness? Living in Los Angeles, where you feel like there are more cars than people, can be incredibly suffocating. I took a week-long trip to Arizona last year to visit friends, and I was amazed at the vast expanses of highways that are completely empty, aside from a car or three. It's almost a form of meditation, driving alone on the highway, in the DAYTIME, but my friends seemed to think nothing of it. It's funny how things look from different perspectives, which is another reason I watch movies, and why I found "Safe" both hilarious and terrifying.

In fact, I think I've even been to the place where the environmentalist camp was filmed, which made me feel even more uneasy. Religious retreats happen there all the time. Do you see how this movie is starting to creep into my life?!

Anyway, I'm rambling, but I think this is one of the best movies I've ever seen, one that anyone who has lived a good portion of their lives in L.A. should make essential viewing. There's a great line in the movie where the preacher of the environmentalist cult/thing says, "We need to give up the rage...and strive for a quiet light." I think it's road rage he's talking about, and in a movie filled with quiet light, I think I'm kind of worried.

Oh, and on a side note: Watching "Safe" reminds me of other movies, particularly Lynch's, which oddly works in its favor. Perhaps the opening credits of "Mulholland Dr." were borrowed from any of the highway sequences in this film, complete with a Badalamenti-esque synthesized score, and angled shots of the backs of cars. That doesn't make me love Lynch's film any less, but it's interesting to note that films about L.A. can have similar motifs.

Grade: A

I'm Not There (2007)

(Why is this a production still if it never happens in the movie?)

I enjoyed "I'm Not There," even if it got a little tiring. Bob Dylan is the most elusive figure in rock n' roll history, and any attempt to bring him to the screen will probably have you stumbling somehow. Director Todd Haynes tries to renovate this by splitting his life into six different characters (none of them named Bob Dylan), all played by different actors. What he comes up with is a movie that, through its kaleidoscopically dense narrative, manages to say absolutely nothing about Bob Dylan that you wouldn't know already, and will confound anybody with little more than a passing interest in the man and his myth. Because none of the characters have anything in common with each other, it leaves the audience with nothing to grasp onto, and ends exactly where it began.

But that was probably the point. "I'm Not There" is a fan's movie, a spot-the-reference field trip through loopholes of persona that never really seem to mesh or intertwine. But did you really expect them to? It's filled with impressive cinematography and memorable montages (all set to classic or bootleg Dylan's songs), and makes for a highly entertaining experience, but it's ultimately a hollow shell of a film. You can get more out of listening to an entire Dylan album than watching it.

The problem with assuming six different characters are all playing one person is that you can never feel for them directly. You're at a distance, because once you get a sense of how one character works, the film shifts to a completely different one. Again, perhaps that was the point, but how is the audience supposed to connect to the material? The montages are the best parts of the film because we hear the Dylan songs we know well and love, but what about the movie? What's the point? I also felt that the movie could easily have been a half hour shorter or longer if Haynes really wanted it to be. For a movie that pretty much runs around in its own world with little (if any) substance, adding or subtracting certain scenes wouldn't really make a difference.

It's hard to really talk about the movie specifically other than the performances, because it's so self-reflexive and glossy that there's nothing more to say about it once it's out of your system. Watching these actors attempt to embody Dylan is like watching actors try to embody Dylan. You laugh at Cate Blanchett because of how hard she tries to match Dylan's mannerisms, and how Christian Bale seems like a parody of Dylan, but they never really amount to more than that. It's hard to find the nuances in the characters, and you can't just fit them all together like pieces in a puzzle.

But if you're a fan of Bob Dylan, it's certainly worth seeing, if only that you'll have the illusion of being enlightened for 2 and a half hours. "I'm Not There" is a case where a director takes a pretentious concept and makes it watchable, if only for a select group of people, if only to further celebrate the myth of Bob Dylan, and if only because somebody had to try.

Grade: B-

Across The Universe (2007)

"You didn't get my left nipple right," Evan Rachel Wood says to Jim Sturgess, after a scene fashioned uncannily like the borderline R-rated nude scene in "Titanic". "Sorry. I drew it from a distance," he replies, and therein lies one of the many problems contained in Julie Taymor's 2007 musical "Across The Universe". It is a film that will most likely come and go without consequence--that is, unless it miraculously scores some Oscar nods and its teenage cult following to go with it.

One day, a musical called "Mamma Mia!" came to Broadway and started a trend of jukebox-musicals, shows in which a certain classic artist or group would have their music carefully arranged in a well-advertised production, all with stories we already know. Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and the Beach Boys all got that treatment. Is it any surprise that nearly all of those musicals, save for "Jersey Boys", either flopped or closed within weeks of their debut? People don't just want songs they already know; they want something else. But then again, "Mamma Mia" is still standing. There must be a reason why. (I know why--I've seen it, and it's oodles of fun.)

The Beatles are arguably the greatest band of all time, partly because they made, at times uncompromisingly experimental, eclectic, and resonating music that continue to shape millions (billions?) of lives. For that reason, it's amazing to think that there hasn't yet been a movie about the Beatles themselves. Or at least, not to my knowledge. Perhaps it's because it's too unwieldy a topic, or perhaps it's because two of them haven't died yet.

Regardless, "Across The Universe" is not the movie to rekindle your love for the Beatles, to start a new generation of Beatles-mania, nor will it be a movie to cherish for years to come. Instead, it's merely a cut-and-paste conversation piece that strangely has a lot of Beatles songs, a film with some nice visuals but almost no flair, and hardly any believable characterization. In fact, it contains some of the laziest mapping of characters I've seen in quite some time in a movie, and I found myself scratching my head every couple of minutes wondering what, and why, things were going on.

Perhaps the most intriguing number in the entire film comes early on. A tan-skinned (Asian?) cheerleader, with two black blemishes on her lips that are never explained, stands on a crowded football field. She begins to sing "I Want To Hold Your Hand," for no particular reason (this is basically how all the songs go). It's an incredibly slow, jarring verison, but we soon get used to it. Then we see her looking at a blonde-haired jock standing with his blonde-haired girlfriend. Hey, typical high school girl crush on the football star, right? But no. He walks away, and in a confusing moment, the two girls lock eyes with each other. The Asian girl turns her head. We realize by the next shot that she's presumably lesbian as she watches the blonde girl practice. "Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man," she sings, and I laugh. It's clever, at least I think it's supposed to be, and it's all the more emphasized by her walking along the field as the testosterone-fueled football players tackle each other all around her, letting her pass as they fly across the screen. That's what works for me as symbolism--she has no need for the opposite sex.

But perhaps I'm looking too deeply into it here. Perhaps she's not completely disowning the opposite sex, because the next time we see her, she's escaping from some guy's apartment into our protagonist's apartment through the bathroom window (Beatles reference--get it?). We don't see the guy, we just hear her talk about some guy she's escaping from. I'm guessing that the audience isn't expected to think about this as some sort of character inconsistency, but is instead supposed to laugh at how clever the Beatles reference is. We get it, it's funny, but it's not working. Why does this girl (named Prudence) have black blemishes on her lips? Why is she suddenly in love with Sadie, a prostitute/punk rocker/jungle-fever-girl a few scenes later? Why does she suddenly feel better about everything when "Dear Prudence" is sung? Why is this relevant to me and nobody else? And anyway, the movie treats Prudence's bisexuality too preciously to make any sort of real statement or impact.

The movie is filled with character inconsistencies like those, which ends up taking away anything it could have had if it tried. I wasn't able to invest myself in any of the characters, because I just didn't get why they were doing the things they did. The first time we hear Evan Rachel Wood say a sentence, it's about the narcissism of having children. Her apparent feelings of rebellion in that scene never come up again until much later in the film, past the point where it could have meant anything (try a random 10-minute departure from reality with Bono, who makes a cameo as Doctor Robert, a hippie who drives a bus presumably run by LSD, and exits the film as quickly as he entered). We also don't feel anything at her soldier boyfriend's funeral, even though the movie expects us to. Why not? Because we didn't know the guy. Why should we feel bad for him, or her, for that matter? And it's a motive that isn't really explored. She has very few doubts before she moves on to the next guy. No transition--just a song about her feelings, then cut to making out with him. Yay.

So, I mean, I don't really know what else to say--I could go on for hours about what was wrong with this movie. Most of the setpieces are boring, like a bowling alley that all of a sudden turns into something like a discotheque. Hardly any of the songs have context; the only scene that creates some sense of wonderment, aside from the gorgeous opening shot, is "Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite," set to easily the worst song in the entire film, yet manages to be a weirdly fascinating bout of kinetic, frenzied imagination. It's as random as anything else that happens in the movie, yet somehow, it works. Maybe Taymor should have made the movie more trippy, and less drippy.

I began this review with a quote that I was going to use to mention how pretty much nobody in this movie seems old enough to have lived in the 1960s. Well, I just said it, and there you go. I probably know less about the 1960's than these filmmakers, but it seems to me that they certainly had importance. "Across The Universe" does not.

Grade: C-

Henry Fool (1997)

Hal Hartley's "Henry Fool" is that great work of fiction, one that many people spend their whole lives trying to create. There are literary allusions abound; characters come, go, and return all over again in the most unusual or unexpected ways; and above all, it doesn't tell us anything more about its characters than we need to know. We enter their world, witness their sometimes bizarre actions, and learn to accept those actions, just as the characters themselves eventually accept each other.

It's also about the art of fiction; or rather, writing. I've heard someone say before that all stories follow the same essential pattern: a strange someone, or something, comes to a town or any place, and brings unprecedented change. As vague as that sounds, I couldn't help but think about that concept as the titular character (portrayed by the absolutely unforgettable Thomas Jay Ryan) walks down the street, carrying a briefcase and a cigarette plastered to his mouth, ready for action, in perhaps one of the most memorable character entrances of any movie. "Get up off your knees," he says to James Urbaniak, reflecting the entire film: every character will be taking a stand in some way, somehow.

As he moves into the Grim household, setting down his mysterious "confession" notebooks and searching the fridge for donuts, he gives the static, unassuming garbageman Simon Grim (Urbaniak) some witticism, a notebook, and a pencil, telling him to write whenever he feels like it. He does, and everyone who reads his writing elicits a variety of strong reactions. Parker Posey, who plays Simon's sister Fay, is her usual bitchy self, but this is one of her best roles, as she lets her Southern tinged voice to gain full power and plays a sexpot to great comedic heights.

The splendor of "Henry Fool" is the deadpan dialogue and the soaring musical score, even going so far as to work together: the piano chimes continuously add an extra punchline to Fool's hysterical, decidedly spoken intellectual ramblings. And when Fool wants to go to a club and party, the music lets him party, as he freaks with two strippers in a hilariously awkward, unexpected scene.

At times, the film seems too long, running about 2 hours and 20 minutes; but the final half hour makes it all worthwhile, bookending all the scenes beforehand and leaving the viewer with a comfortably ambiguous, much-debated ending. Anyone can have their own interpretation of this movie, and to point out any flaws with it is missing the point; it shows an alternate reality that can only exist in the realms of independent cinema. And undoubtedly one of the best.

Grade: A

Snatch. (2000)

You know how every once in a while there comes a movie that tries to mix style and substance and tries to make a big deal about it? That's probably a generalization, but I'm referring to such recent mainstream movies as "Smokin' Aces" and "Sin City," in which quirky characters and heavy dialogue are mixed with crazy camera techniques and cool soundtracks, usually to the delight of the young and young at heart worldwide. They've been called "MTV-style," "neo-noir," "video games",and "Tarantino-esque," among other things, but none of those actually explain what the movies are.

And the problem with that kind of movie is that recently, it hasn't worked. The story is almost always the first thing that's sacrificed, for the sake of some nifty imagery that never really sticks with you once you're done watching, or even if you are watching. (The primary exception to this is "GoodFellas," which is a movie that, over a decade later, manages to be just as entertaining, groundbreaking, and eye-orgasm inducing as when first released.) I can't say how many movies I've sat through, with or without friends, that I could describe as being utterly neutral to my emotions: it's there, I'm seeing it, but I just can't feel it at all. (Ahem, "300.")

Now, as for "Snatch"--it most definitely worked for me. In fact, it works so well that I'm amazed the directors of the aforementioned movies haven't taken its perceivable advice. It's hard for me to say why I liked it, but maybe I can suggest a few things.

For one thing, and perhaps the movie's most important success, is that the majority of the soundtrack cues in this movie are perfect. It's not often that a song and an image are so well edited that you really feel like a part of the scene, but this movie does it on a handful of occasions, notably in a few of Brad Pitt's scenes, where his mumbling gypsy-boxer is let loose to kick some ass. Pitt isn't particularly great in this movie; he doesn't do as much as you would expect him to, but he fits the part amiably, as do the rest of the cast.

It's nice to see Jason Statham not playing the badass action hero once again, even though he has his one particular scene...in fact, pretty much everyone in this movie has their one particular scene, but Dennis Farina and Alan Ford have perhaps the most ridiculous performances of all. "Snatch" is also a very funny film, in that its visual plot twists are well placed, and thankfully it doesn't get too loony for its own sake of plausible entertainment.

I'm typing this review late at night, and I better go to sleep, so I will say that unfortunately the movie ends too quickly, and by the end credits we realize that "Snatch" can only exist in its self-contained world, as fun and bloody and pointless as it really is. But all movies, good or bad, are in and of themselves, and knowing that they can be revisited more than once can be a reassuring thing. All the other guys can have their "300" and eat it too, but the rest of us will still have our "Snatch."

Grade: A-

Black Snake Moan (2007)

Craig Brewer's sophomore effort shoves its themes in your face in the first scene. First, there's black-and-white footage of a blues singer explaining how blues and love are intertwined. Then it blacks out, heavy blues starts to play, and it cuts to Justin Timberlake fucking the shit out of a startlingly bare-breasted Christina Ricci.

It's certainly one way to start a movie, and it's what I would expect from Brewer, one of today's most promising new directors, who began his first film (the excellent "Hustle and Flow") in just as eye-opening a way. But I did get the feeling that most of the audience already got what they came for.

If "Flow" was the ultimate hip-hop movie--deconstructing the craft while telling a convincing story of a pimp's rise to fame--then "Black Snake Moan" certainly doesn't live up to those standards. By no means is it a bad movie; it's just never clear on what sort of movie it wants to be. It's not an homage to 70's exploitation films, as the posters would lead you to believe; nor is it a sex romp with dirty Southern jokes. It's more of a pseudo-"born-again"-Christian-sex-anxiety-tale, yet with a heart. And if that makes absolutely no sense, then I don't know what else to tell you.

The original reason for me wanting to see this movie (as well as its primary selling point), aside from being a fan of "Hustle and Flow", was the concept: how the hell could they get away with making a movie about chaining a girl to a radiator? But that aspect of the story, when viewed as a part of the whole movie, is more of a comedic device, which, surprisingly, is thrown away more easily than it's brought in. The movie has a number of small plot holes--or, rather, character inconsistencies--that I don't feel are worth getting into. We already know that it's not a perfect movie--so let's talk about the acting.

Samuel L. Jackson probably enjoys his acting career more than anyone else his age, and he shows it. His breakthrough role in "Pulp Fiction" jumpstarted a cult following of crazy whiteboys (the ones who made that 30 seconds of "Snakes on a Plane" worth seeing), who are always searching for one of those classically delivered phrases, many of which he echoes here, such as "bad motherfucker". This role doesn't do anything new for him, apart from proving his worth as a blues singer.

Christina Ricci--probably the main reason to go out and see this movie, if anything. I always find it fascinating to see actresses play these types of roles, where either they lose their minds completely, or their clothes, and at the same time looking as dolled-up as possible. The fantastic opening credits sequence (another one of Brewer's talents), in which the camera lingers on Ricci's swaying hips in a jean miniskirt as she trots along the freeway, has a great "fuck authority" image that needs to be seen to be believed.

Another notable sequence is the supposedly "much-talked-about" trashing scene, which, if it has, I never heard anything about. Basically it consists of Samuel L. Jackson playing blues to a full crowd at the local bar, as Ricci bumps and grinds in slow-motion along the dance floor with numerous partners, her dirty-blonde hair stuck to the front of her sweaty, dirty face. It's almost scary to watch, since by this point (SPOILERS AHEAD) we would have assumed that Ricci was cleansed of her freaky nymphomaniac doings (another plot hole). (SPOILERS FINISHED) Apparently, this is different, yet it's ultimately the dirtiest, and most memorable, scene of the film.

One problem that a lot of people have had with Ricci in the past (and not that she tends to play white-trash roles--this time to the extreme, no less) is that she's always exposed her giant forehead, which gives her a strangely youthful look, her huge eyes and weird mouth popping out at you. Thankfully, "Black Snake Moan" fixes that problem, as her hair is almost always disheveled in front of her.

Justin Timberlake is woefully miscast as Ricci's boyfriend, an anxiety-ridden yet ultimately hopeful guy who enlists for the military. It's hard to watch a pop star/sex icon play a flawed character. His subplot is never believable, and his character never reaches a satisfying ending.

It's ultimately a testament to Brewer's craft that the best scenes in "Black Snake Moan" are the ones that play like the first, with blues and sex mixed to create some extremely provocative imagery--and ultimately, those two elements are what save the characters. But it's scenes like those that made me think of what the movie could have been, rather than what it already is. The majority of the humor comes from people cursing each other out, which is always fun, but that's not good enough, coming from a director who's already proved that he can put together something much more concise, resonating, and heartwarming.

But honestly, it's good enough, and as the first movie I've seen in 2007, it's just an inkling of things to come.

Grade: B-

49 Up (2005)

Life is short, yet slow and unpredictable. Who are we to judge if we've made a difference in the world, or to predict what might happen in the future? The people in "49 Up" have had to contemplate every 7 years the major decisions they've made in that period of time, evidently because director Michael Apted won't leave them alone. But there's a reason for that--and you would know it, emotionally, after watching this overwhelming 2 hour 15 minute segment.

"49 Up" may be the best documentary I've seen since "Hoop Dreams". The seventh chapter in a filmmaking experiment, originally conceptualized in 1964 as a British working-class study ("Give me a child at seven, and I will show you the man"), is very similar to the 1994 basketball saga, not to mention that Roger Ebert loves to endorse both, but in that both give you glimpses of lives and ambitions in motion. However, the difference is that this film goes one step further: it takes place long after the ambitions were fulfilled or denied, attempting to give enough closure for either result.

All but one of the protagonists are white, most living in a middle-class society, most divorced at least once. But all appear to be content with their lives, repeatedly stating that they are "happy"-- it's obvious that we're not seeing all of these people's lives, and some loose ends are left hanging. They're also somewhat irritated that they have to still be in these movies. Is it right for everyone to be able to see what these people are doing? Maybe not, but all for the sake of art.

One thing that stuck out in my mind while watching this was that there are never any questions or comments about religion (apart from the final protagonist, who discusses his preference for the older Testament over the New). You would think that religion could be a significant part of people's lives. Or maybe my Jewish upbringing puts those thoughts in my head.

Regardless, I haven't seen any of the previous segments, so this one felt like a giant load of character for me (it contains footage from all the others, so it's like a combination of each). But this works to an advantage, because we can see distinct parallels and differences in all of their lives, and, knowing that these aren't just characters on screen, but real people, allows us to contrast our lives, where we've been (if over or near 49) and where we may be going (if significantly under 49, like me), to these seemingly run-of-the-mill characters. They may not like it if we judge them--and nobody will ever blame them--but the rewards for moviegoers (not to mention humanity) are endless. Here's to "56 Up".

Grade: A

Top Ten of 2006 (detailed)

I already listed my top ten movies of the year in my last post, but this is my yet-to-be-published school newspaper article on the topic, with an explanation for each pick. The writing itself sounds a little too snappy for my tastes, not to mention family-friendly, but I'll get over it if you will. The article has yet to be designated appropriate for the newspaper, so it'll most likely go through some changes, but I might as well post it here as it's fresh off my mind. Thanks for reading.

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It seems we live in a time where all the “good” movies are released at the end of the year, now dubbed “Oscar season”; and in the nine months before, we get the same rehashed, generic trash.

But that’s not entirely true, as can be seen from my top ten list below; four of them were released before October, which is when awards season begins to heat up. We live in a moviegoing city, which means that smaller, riskier films that struggle for distribution are released by independent theater chains, so that us Angelinos can get some variety.

Overall, it would be callous to call 2006 a bad year for movies, because there were a select few that pushed—or at least fine-tuned—the boundaries of where celluloid could take us. Two of them were even by the same director (and I’m not talking about Clint Eastwood). And on more than one occasion, we were sent to places we wouldn’t ever want to return.

Here are the films that impacted me the most, in descending order:

10. Notes on a Scandal

There are certain movies that are enjoyable for their controversial plotlines and over-the-top performances, and this is certainly one of them. It’s a lot more thrilling than most movies this year, thanks to Judi Dench’s unbelievable performance and Cate Blanchett’s refreshing countenance—this is the best she’s ever looked on screen as far as I know, and it’s another memorable turn from one of the most consistently brilliant actresses in show business.

9. United 93

While not only a humbling experience in a movie theater, this is one of the best examples I’ve seen of how to treat a sensitive subject in the most accurate and effective way possible. What I admired most about this movie were its subtle, yet essential characteristics—such as the lack of familiar faces in the cast and the flight’s duration occurring in real-time—that director Paul Greengrass made sure to put in, so that this wouldn’t be an attempt to cash in on a major tragedy, but instead a near-perfect re-enactment that will eventually have to be revisited.

8. Jesus Camp

Possibly the scariest movie of the year, this documentary portrays a part of America more people need to know about, through a summer camp in North Dakota, in which precocious evangelical Christian children are sent to be trained as “Jesus’ soldiers” and to “take back America for Christ”. According to former leader of the National Associaton of Evangelicals, Pastor Ted Haggard, when the evangelicals vote, they determine the election—so, apparently, this is where it all stems from. What’s fascinating about the film is that it doesn’t force any opinions on you—it just shows you a neutral point of view, and lets you make your own decisions. A backlash of controversy came after the film’s release, causing the camp to eventually be shut down. Pastor Haggard’s resignation from his position at the association—due to allegations of homosexual promiscuity and drug abuse— didn’t help either. See for yourself.

7. The Science of Sleep

In director Michel Gondry’s imagination, dreams unfold with funky music, a hazy rainbow of colors, and an endless sense of invention—but that’s just the first scene. That third characteristic runs throughout this quasi-autobiographical exploration—Gondry’s first written screenplay—making this his most personal film yet. The versatile Gael Garcia Bernal is the naive protagonist while Charlotte Gainsbourg plays his love interest, and either can be seen speaking three different languages, riding stop-motion animated creatures, driving around in cardboard cars, or destroying the environment from an office building to the tune of a White Stripes song. This is stuff I can gladly tolerate.

6. Dave Chappelle’s Block Party

I put two Michel Gondry films on my list—so what? He’s definitley one of the coolest cats around. But the real host this time is the once-heralded, now-humbled comedian Dave Chappelle, who lets the cameras document his legendary, once-in-a-lifetime musical event for hundreds of lucky fans: the greatest underground hip-hop concert ever assembled. Maybe that’s pushing it a little, but whoever loves the genre has no reason to be disappointed with this movie, which features rap heroes such as Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Kanye West and the reunion of The Fugees. As well, there’s a load of wacky characters that all supply memorable scenes, including Chappelle himself, who thankfully stays himself, and proves that you don’t need to impersonate Rick James to entertain an audience—you just have to know what brings people together.

5. The Prestige

Christopher Nolan knows how to make intelligent movies for a wide audience, and he proves it again with this expertly crafted magician’s anxiety tale. Two tricksters battle each other over their reputations and their women, and who better to play both of them than Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale, the latter of whom can effortlessly juggle charisma and menace in any role he plays; and David Bowie is nearly unrecognizable as a soft-spoken scientist. This is a film all about the details. It may be entertaining on first viewing, but a completely different thought process once it’s over—its shocking Usual Suspects-like ending will overwhelm you while you put all the pieces together.

4. Half Nelson

We finally have a movie about drug addiction that brings new depth to its characters, but works just as well as a high-school drama. Ryan Gosling, already the best actor of his generation, plays a crack-addicted history teacher that befriends one of his female students, maturely portrayed by newcomer Shareeka Epps. Outside of the classroom, both of them find the world tumbling down around them, each caught in a struggle between the right and wrong decisions. The soundtrack by the indie-rock band Broken Social Scene gives the scenes their rightful presence. Undoubtedly the year’s best directorial debut and a beautifully understated effort from all involved.

3. Inland Empire

I have no idea who David Lynch is whenever he makes a movie, even though I’ve met him in person. Many of his films throw all narrative sense out the window, leaving the viewer to take them at face value. But if you can get past that, as I always do, you’ll find his latest—a three-hour nightmarish film-within-a-film role-reversal extravaganza (in digital camera, no less)—to be his deepest rabbit hole yet (the rabbits included), and like absolutely nothing you’ve ever seen. To spoil any of the images or inside jokes writhing around in this behemoth would be sacrilege, but I will say this: nobody knows sound design or lighting tricks like Lynch, and this is him with a bigger toolbox. And Laura Dern gives every inch of herself to a role that has to be seen to be believed—Lynch always gets more out of his actors than any other director. It took me three months to digest most of this film, but I’ve finally gathered that this has to be American cinematic genius, if not extraterrestrial.

2. The Departed

There’s no reason for anyone who loves going to the movies to not have seen this already. In my opinion, this is why people go to the movies, especially for two and a half hours: to be entertained, to have a fast-paced narrative, lots of snappy dialogue, a concise and purposeful soundtrack, a few A-list actors moving freely in their own element and therefore playing unforgettable roles, under the watchful eyes of a tried-and-true master director, Martin Scorsese, who now can add another masterpiece to his long film career. And topping it off, there’s an unbelievable ending and a little sly symbolism to ponder as you leave the theater. You want to know why the price of admission is so high at the mall? Because movies like this exist, and can be made, and hopefully will be made more often in the future. Who would have thought that such a box-office-smash could possibly be such a satisfying movie on every single level—and the best mainstream movie of the year, anyhow?

1. Mutual Appreciation

So you haven’t heard of it? Well, you have now. My favorite movie of 2006 is one that I connected to the most personally. Andrew Bujalski’s self-distributed sophomore effort, continuing his fictional documentation of what the current post-college generation bickers about in their spare time, has a plot that we’ve all heard before: a twenty-something singer-guitarist falls in love with his best friend’s girlfriend. But visually and performance-wise, it’s a whole other story. In black and white, with a miniscule budget, no background music, and improvised dialogue by non-professional actors who are mostly the director’s friends (think Cassavetes)—including the director himself—this movie consists entirely of people just being people. And it floored me, because I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt like I’d already known the characters on a movie screen for my entire life, and my being there was like paying a visit to see how they were doing. This effect makes the spontaneous happenings that much more meaningful, such as when the main character drunkenly enters a room of unknown girls, and they dress him up in women’s clothing. You may think I’m not being serious, but the overall confusion between the needs of characters and subtle hints at unrequited love throughout the film give each scene an uncanny undertone of reality. I was able to meet Bujalski himself after the show, and I thanked him for the experience. Evidently, we have some great talent under the radar.