January
1, 2005 | Compiling a list of the year's ten best films
is a task I approach with a fair share of ambivalence. Because,
let's face it, what I'm really doing is announcing my favorite
films of the past 12 months. A decade or so from now, I might
look back on the following lineup and want to make additions
or deletions. At this point in time, however, I can honestly
state these are the 2004 releases that impressed me most and
best.
1.
A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT - Jean-Pierre Jeunet's dazzling and
audacious tragicomedy is an exuberantly sweeping fantasia
about the triumph of love over the vagaries of fate and the
horrors of war. Audrey Tautou is luminous as a willful young
woman who obsessively seeks proof that her precious fiancé
did not die on a World War I battlefield.
2.
THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU - Bill Murray gives the
performance of his career as a mercurial celebrity oceanographer
who finds himself adrift, literally and figuratively, in Wes
Anderson's pitch-perfect comedy of melancholy about wistful
regret, inconvenient yearnings and serendipitous second chances.
3.
SIDEWAYS - Raise a toast to Alexander Payne's profoundly funny
and seriously affecting comedy-drama about a wine-snobbish
would-be novelist (Oscar-worthy Paul Giamatti) in the middle-age
of his discontent, and a falling-from-grace former TV star
(Thomas Haden Church) who accompanies the writer on a journey
toward something like self-discovery.
4.
THE INCREDIBLES -- Forget about Van Helsing or I,
Robot - or even the splendid Spider-Man 2. This
year, the very best big-screen action-adventure just happened
to be a whip-smart, computer-animated crowd-pleaser from the
makers of Monsters, Inc. and Finding Nemo.
5.
HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS - After warming up with Hero,
his Rashomon-flavored epic starring Jet Li and a cast
of thousands, Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou kicks it up several
notches with this splendiferously exciting and swooningly
romantic martial-arts extravaganza.
6.
THE AVIATOR - There's a tantalizing hint of autobiographical
impulse at play in Martin Scorsese's wildly entertaining Technicolor
portrait of Howard Hughes (rivetingly well-played by Leonard
Di Caprio) as a visionary genius who drives himself to the
point of madness, and beyond, while attempting to transcend
the second-guessing and backstabbing of lesser mortals.
7.
FAHRENHEIT 9/11 and CONTROL ROOM - In a year filled with provocative
political documentaries, these two fortuitously complementary
films -- Michael Moore's searing and scathingly funny critique
of U.S. foreign policy, and Jehane Noujaim's insightful and
surprisingly balanced view of the Al Jazeera news network
- deserve joint mention on any list of 2004's best.
8.
COFFEE AND CIGARETTES - Still indie after all these years,
Jim Jarmusch (Down By Law) offers the equivalent of
a short-story anthology: An amusing collection of black-and-white
mini-dramas, filmed over a 17-year period, involving animated
conversations between close friends, passing strangers and
competitive power players played by such notables as Bill
Murray, Cate Blanchett, Alfred Molina, Steve Buscemi and Roberto
Benigni.
9.
I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD - Mike Hodges' free-form, almost
stream-of-conscious neo-noir drama isn't so much a
straightforward crime thriller as a moody-bluesy meditation
on the genre. The narrative proceeds stealthily, almost dreamily,
like the recurring theme to which a jazz artist returns between
discursive riffs and melancholy rambles. Try to imagine Hodges'
cult-fave gangster flick Get Carter (1971) remade and
rescored by John Coltrane, and you'll have some inkling of
what to expect here.
10.
METALLICA: SOME KIND OF MONSTER - A mesmerizing documentary
that's all the more amazing for being more or less an accident.
Filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky originally were
hired to produce a promotional film about the heavy-metal
band Metallica. But while they were tightly focused on the
often contentious musicians, they were able to witness and
record two years of emotional upheavals, internecine conflicts
and on-again, off-again group therapy sessions.
Runners up include: Mike Nichols' Closer, Peter Berg's
Friday Night Lights, Guillermo del Toro's Hellboy,
Paul Greengrass' The Bourne Supremacy, Bill Condon's
Kinsey, Taylor Hackford's Ray, Timothy Bjorklund's
Teacher's Pet, Steven Spielberg's The Terminal,
Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill, Vol. 2 and David Mamet's
Spartan.
And
the ten worst? In no particular order - because they deserve
none - the 2004 list of dishonor includes:
BROKEN
LIZARD'S CLUB DREAD -- Super Troopers, the previous
movie written and performed by the Broken Lizard comedy troupe,
was a wildly uneven, hit-and-miss enterprise. But it was a
full-scale laugh riot compared to the ensemble's sophomore
effort, a feeble parody of summer-camp comedies and slasher-killer
thrillers. Indeed, as Club Dread plods interminably
toward its conclusion, there's an unmistakable air of mounting
desperation to all the frat-house prankishness and leering
lasciviousness.
SEED
OF CHUCKY -- Scraping the bottom of the barrel with more determination
than inspiration, writer-director Don Mancini offers a slapdash
mix of camp and carnage in this uncalled-for fifth installment
of the killer-doll horror franchise.
SLEEPOVER
- At first glance, it's easy to dismiss this instantly disposable
comedy as harmless fluff for tweener females who might view
Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen as older, enviable role models.
But if you give it a second thought - which likely is more
than it merits - it's even easier to be creeped out by the
movie's quease-inducing depiction of 14-year-old girls as
budding hotties.
THE
COOKOUT - In the not-so-grand tradition of low-budget, no-brainer
comedies aimed at unwary African-American audiences, Lance
Rivera's witless farce offers a heaping helping of tired stereotypes:
Domineering mothers, near-senile geezers, incontinent toddlers,
slatternly unwed mothers, corpulent dope smokers and, of course,
a white women (poor Farrah Fawcett) who's mightily impressed
and sexually aroused when a previously docile black man (poor
Danny Glover) exerts swaggering authority.
THE
GIRL NEXT DOOR - Risky Business is recycled as frisky
glibness in this tickle-and-tease teen-sex comedy about a
straight-arrow high school senior who discovers his new neighbor
is a semi-retired porn star. Watching this shamelessly derivative
dreck is a bit like taking a late-night channel-surf through
soft-core exploitative flicks, American Pie wanna-bes
and '80s Brat Pack romances.
DE-LOVELY
- Irwin Winkler had never directed a musical before tackling
this biopic about Broadway composer Cole Porter (gamely played
by Kevin Kline). After seeing the finished product - a flat-footed,
ham-handed fiasco that plays like a literal-minded adaptation
of a second-rate Broadway production - you may wonder whether
Winkler had ever seen a musical before he unleashed
this leaden disaster.
GARFIELD:
THE MOVIE -- Only very small children still easily impressed
by the interaction of human actors and CGI animals will be
amused by Pete Hewitt's tepid kid-flick based on the long-running
comic strip about a lasagna-loving cat. It doesn't help much
that, even while cracking wise or tossing insults, Bill Murray
sounds curiously disengaged, if not downright bored, while
providing the voice of the title character.
PAPARAZZI
- Picture a blunt-force revenge melodrama with brackish undercurrents
of score-settling fantasy fulfillment. Co-produced by Mel
Gibson, who hasn't been shy about expressing his displeasure
at being the subject of constant multi-media scrutiny, and
directed by the superstar's former hairstylist, this luridly
trashy melodrama percolates with bilious rage while depicting
amorally relentless celebrity photographers as degenerate
monsters to be killed with impunity.
THE
PUNISHER - The good news: It's marginally better than the
justly obscure 1989 potboiler based on the same Marvel Comic.
The bad news: That's not nearly enough. This formulaic action-adventure
-- about a heavily armed vigilante and a deadly serious (and,
as played by John Travolta, deathly dull) bad guy - is, well,
a punishment to endure.
FAT
ALBERT - Hey, hey, hey? No, no, no. A woefully misguided attempt
to reconstitute a popular '70s TV cartoon show as a full-length,
family-skewing feature, Joel Zwick's clunky mix of animated
high jinks, live-action farce and inspirational uplift is
more annoyingly frenetic than appealingly funny.
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