beyond this list :
EYES WIDE SHUT
STAR WARS EPISODE 1 : THE PHANTOM MENACE

1.    Magnolia
2.    The Insider
3.    Limbo
4.    Topsy-Turvy
5.    The Straight Story
6.    Toy Story 2
7.    Run Lola Run
8.    Election
9.    The End of the Affair
10.  American Beauty

Grand Jury Prize

After-life
Being John Malkovich
The Blair Witch Project
The Dreamlife of Angels
Felicia's Journey
Fight Club
The Limey
The Minus Man
Tarzan
Titus
 
 

 I’m afraid I ran into the usual little hindrance this year when I was putting together
this comprehensive (but never final) list of the best films of the year. There hasn’t been a
year like this in some time. It’s not a year when the majority of the films are exceptional
(like 1993) or a year when we see several absolute ‘classic status’ films (like 1997). It’s
certainly not a perfect year. It has yielded some magnificent films. It has yielded it’s
share of crap. Just like any year, it’s had it’s ups and downs.

 What I’m overjoyous about, however, is that this year marked the return of two
filmmakers long since retired to hiatus (many thought permanently). Sure, it was exciting
when Terence Malick returned last year to create one of the best films in recent years
(‘The Thin Red Line’), but in 1999.....we were blessed with the return of two directors
whose films have shaped the American cinemascape since the 1960’s. They, like the
great novelists, know that quality greatly surpasses quantity and while it may have been
nice to have seen them release more films in their lifetimes - the offerings they leave us
are always ample enough to forgive such disappearances. Absence makes the heart grow
fonder, right?

 So, the return of Stanley Kubrick was totally misunderstood. The return of George
Lucas was scoffed at by fans, critics and even people unfamiliar with his multi-billion
dollar franchise. We must expect such behavior in the face of genius. Nice
rationalization, right? It’s not rationalization, folks, it’s the truth. Let’s think. Were any of
Kubrick’s films any different in pacing, style and acting than his latest opus, ‘Eyes Wide
Shut’. Were any of the ‘Star Wars’ films lacking in wooden acting or contrived plotlines?
No, they weren’t. Each director created exactly in the style they had previously
employed. Here are two more treasures, neither fit for categorization. I want to go on the
record to say : I was not let down in either instance. First show, opening day, even
weeks later - after multiple viewings - I was still entranced by both pieces of cinematic
wonder.

Eyes Wide Shut

 The year-and-a-half filming, the controversial digital additions, the startling and
consuming plot (taken from Schnitzler’s ‘Tramnouvelle’) and the rigorous symbolism.
The color, the lighting, the haunting score, the utter perfection in every frame. I could go
on and on. Stanley Kubrick’s final film (pound by pound in the top five of the last
decade) is absolutely flawless and brilliantly realized. Everything from the Christmas
lights (which seem to wrap themselves around the actors) to the mirror scene (set to
‘Baby did a Bad, Bad Thing’ by Chris Isaak) warrants a louder ‘Yes! Yes!’ as it unfolds
before us, shimmering with it’s complexities and glazed over in it’s slyness (like that
casting - Cruise and Kidman, director Sydney Pollack, Leelee Sobieski, Alan Cumming -
wow - what a cast!). March 21 is the video release date for those of you hungry to
experience what is the ultimate swansong - misconstrued, picture perfect and absolutely
ready to begin it’s powerful shelf life.

Star Wars Episode 1 : The Phantom Menace

 When Ric Olie (Ralph Brown I) shouts “Shields are back! That little droid did it!”
in the classic ‘Star Wars’ British stiffness - an acting method that should be explored in a
doctorate thesis - you know you’re in for an absolute replica of the first three films. From
the presence of Jar-Jar Binks (I liked him folks - that makes one of us!), the ewok of this
prequel, to the beefed up and astounding special effects (which don’t look that far
removed from the original trilogy, when you get right down to it) - this new installment
only carries one thing different than the first three : the proved star power. The casting
agent who put Neeson and McGregor in the film was taking a huge risk - one that ended
up working out - in casting already famous and noted actors. When we watch them here,
both use their God-given acting talent to further remove themselves from real acting.
Confusing, right? It all goes back to my theory about the stuffy British acting. Both
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan work completely as low-key Jedi Knights. It’s really an
overlooked marvel that ‘The Phantom Menace’ follows suit so directly. And as far as I’m
concerned - less Darth Maul made the movie better. A great villain that leaves you
wanting more - another truly ‘Star Wars’ thing to do. Finally, I think this became a great
opportunity for everyone to prove once and for all that they are not ‘Star Wars’ nerds.
Folks, it’s okay to like this film. It doesn’t make you a ‘Star Wars’ nerd. The personal
politics of opinion as relayed to moviewatching (see also : ‘The Blair Witch Project’) are
getting out of hand. What kind of nonsense is a world where it has become accepted to
dislike something simply because it’s popular? Shame on all of you.

That’s right, I saw it four times. And I would’ve seen it again, too.

Magnolia

 If it’s not enough that the Aimee Mann songs were so well placed - you’ve got to
love a film that goes out of it’s way to surprise you. Every once in awhile it’s great to see
a film with a huge ensemble cast that doesn’t have any particular standouts and doesn’t
do anything but amaze you, utilizing it’s actors in such a satisfying manner, you have to
stand in awe. And who better than directing prodigy (and I mean that with every
implication intact) PT Anderson, the creator of the offbeat and jaded ‘Hard Eight’ and
the sad and stylistic epic ‘Boogie Nights’, both on my top ten list in 1997. “If I’m going
to get final cut once in my career, I might as well abuse it”, said PT Anderson to the
Entertainment Weekly. What a great concept. It’s hardly mistreating one’s own stamp of
approval- deservedly bestowed upon him - to create such a funny and soulful tapestry of a
film. I think I remember saying on the way home that I couldn’t believe he had made a
film that was better than ‘Boogie Nights’. But he did. ‘Magnolia’ is equal parts a
redemption saga, a human tragedy and a study (and a sly self-mockery) of coincidence. It
is sometimes sad, sometimes hilarious and sometimes extremely moving. And to finish
where I began - the Aimee Mann songs, the sole inspiration for the film, become more
than a musical accompaniment - they become the lifeblood of the story, occasionally
stopping to underscore (and doing it so well every time) and assist in crafting the bursts
of emotional alchemy that are ‘A PT Anderson Picture’. I have thought about little else,
since I’ve seen ‘Magnolia’, than seeing it again.

The Insider

 Michael Mann is a director who could easily fall into the pitfall of making big
budget performative documentaries (where style swamps content). He’s always been a
real master at avoiding making such films. From his roots with the eerie and jarring
suspense classic ‘Manhunter’ to his modern day masterpieces such as ‘The Last of the
Mohicans’ and ‘Heat’, he’s always been able to back up his beautifully shot and
cinematically complex films with terrific scripts. ‘The Insider’ is his absolute high point.
Shot by Dante Spinotti (a master at creating lived-in and awe-inspiring cityscapes), the
film has that look, feel and texture of the news world. It hangs heavy with that bustling,
pseudo-perfect look to a world that’s constantly conniving in itself. It’s got the showcase
of greed down to a science. It’s music is haunting, surreal - very, very Michael Mann-ish.
But the whole shebang is the performances. Russell Crowe - completely falling into the
very soul of Jeffrey Wigand, professional whistleblower - is another in the set of brilliant
male lead performances we were lucky to see this past year. He looks and acts as Wigand
- the nervous mannerisms, the blunt speak and the reproach of a man who just wants to
do the right thing and be left alone. Pacino, with the usual over-the-top performance
lends his own brand of credibility to Lowell Bergman, the producer that fights for
Wigand’s chance to squeal. Pacino is a lion in anything he’s in (except ‘Donnie Brasco’)
and his Bergman-as-Pacino turn is no mistake - it works extremely well. And finally, to
the Mike Wallace lookalike (are these actors chameleons or what?), Christopher
Plummer should also see Oscar recognition for this astounding piece of work. ‘The
Insider’ is absorption defined.

Limbo

 It not ample to call John Sayles a great director. John Sayles is one of the great
storytellers of our time. He culls three masterful performances from his actors -
Strathairn, brooding, distant, self-reliant, ruggedly handsome and morbidly deadpan;
Mastrantonio - a chameleon, changing her demeanor to fit the receiving end of her own
brand of blunt, positive chatter and the extraordinary Vanessa Martinez - the model of
Sayles himself, the storyteller living the “defeated” role in other’s lives as if they were
her own, through her mind, completing the literary code by reproducing her own scars as
prose. Edited masterfully by Sayles himself - he fragments the people existing alongside
a town where the working class get off on hardship until it kills them. They are splinters
of the reality infusing itself into nature and nature, providing and taking away, splinters
itself into all. Strathairn is on a mission of redemption : and every step he takes is as
beautiful and devastating as in any Hemingway novel. ‘Limbo’ never stops proving it’s
title and it’s themes in every image, every word and every gesture. It’s a motion picture
as a novel - a white-knuckle page turner without the reading.

Topsy-Turvy

 What a delightful Holiday treat. A film that’s not quite a bio-pic of the musical
duo Gilbert and Sullivan and not quite a testament to the past, when eloquence was pure
and humor was bone dry. It’s not quite conventional and it’s not quite experimental. It’s
pacing is incredibly indulgent and though it’s funny, there is a touch of bittersweet that is
completely necessary. The film’s subject seems expertly tailored for Mike Leigh’s style
of writing - completing a rough-cut of a script, improvising for long months with his
actors and polishing a script based on such character enhancements (in fact there’s a
scene where Gilbert is watching a rehearsal and stops the actors ever other line or so to
change or suggest something, an extremely reflective scene of both Leigh and W.S.
Gilbert). And his characters are the best part. He cuts Gilbert, Sullivan, their actors, their
sponsors, their wives and all other passerby-ers directly out of his literary and creative
mind - as if they were the modern Londoners that have inhabited some of his most recent
works of genius, such as ‘Secrets & Lies’, ‘Career Girls’ and ‘Naked’.  The principles
playing Gilbert and Sullivan, Jim Broadbent and Allan Corduner, respectively, are just
mind-blowing. Broadbent, who has busted his ass (for as long as I’ve been watching
movies) in supporting roles, carries the film on his shoulders as if it were made of
feathers. He gives the performance of the year. And Corduner, less rough-cut than Gilbert
and more of a delicate idealist, completely complements Broadbent on every side. It’s
such a wonder to admire the two of them, interacting and spitting out two dollar words,
guarded and roundabout (at each other), like they were bullets. Also rounding out this
magnificent motion picture are grand turns by Kevin McKidd as a pompous scotch actor
and Timothy Spall as an overweight and extremely sensitive (yet terribly lovable)
headliner, fading, as it were. The movie burns bright and exists in such a wonderful state
- flawless, unflinching and meandering - so full of itself (like Gilbert) and yet, so
articulate (like Sullivan). It’s the very picture of lush entertainment.

The End of the Affair

 ‘The End of the Affair’ has one of the neatest tones I've ever seen in a motion
picture - an incredibly small movie encompassed only by the gigantic and complex
emotional web within it's shadowy corridors, brownish film quality and excessive acting.
(It certainly benefits heavily from a recurrent and haunting score by Michael Nyman, the
wholly original genius behind such scores as ‘The Piano’, ‘Gattaca’ and ‘Carrington’).
Neil Jordan creator of ‘Mona Lisa’ and ‘The Crying Game’, a former writer, scores his
best attempt at cinema to date. Ralph Fiennes, brooding, assuming and smug - plays the
wooden, free spirited green-eyed monster to absolute perfection. Stephen Rea (his 8th
film with Jordan) and Julianne Moore are both marvelous as British folk (Rea is from
Ireland, Moore from the U.S.). And Ian Hart, the underrated British character actor
(awesome as John Lennon in ‘Backbeat’), rounds out this magnificent cast as a private
detective, training his scarred son in the ways of Hart’s immoral and scandalous
profession. Totally literary, entirely fascinating and simply stunning is Jordan’s
concoction - a Graham Greene novel adapted for the screen that even warrants
comparison to Greene’s ‘The Third Man’ (coincidentally re-released on the big screen
this year). An absolute wonder to watch.

The Straight Story

 From the opening shot of a woman entering her house to get a drink and then
relapsing back to her sunbathing on a faded suburban piece of lounge furniture to the
closing moments of this absolutely sublime and hypnotic film, we can feel the presence
of David Lynch. And you know what? It’s the best film I’ve ever seen him make. What a
simplistic wonder to behold - the retelling of actual events that took place in 1994 when
Alvin Straight (the other breathtaking performance this year, Richard Farnsworth) took a
‘66 lawnmower (we’re talking 5 mph max, here, people) from his hometown of Laurens,
Iowa to visit his ailing brother (Lynch regular Harry Dean Stanton) in Mt. Zion,
Wisconsin. And, my God - the subtlety and endearing touches Lynch puts on this slow,
but sure journey. Straight, who walks with two canes himself, can barely keep his own
show on the road, let alone make the trek to see his brother. But the utter length and
determination that come about on his trip (where he’ll meet a barrage of wonderful
characters) keeps his focus and the sweeping reality that will come about, always at the
forefront of our consciousness. When he finally gets there - the big realization comes that
his entire excursion, however strange and unsafe, was out of necessity. And that
realization is the best thing of all. Lynch (as does Mamet this year, see : ‘The Winslow
Boy’) shows us that his style is adaptive for any situation and for any subject matter. If
there is something to prove, either by Lynch or Straight - it is confirmed tenfold. A
magical film.

American Beauty

 ‘American Beauty’ feels simple, like a folk song writing itself as it goes along,
leaving a residue of somber sweetness on the screen, but not at the expense of exposing
the gritty, sometimes scathing psychosis that seems to live as an illusion in it’s world, it’s
characters and it’s epiphanies. The projection of human bodies as deteriorating, sparkling
and grimly “ordinary” throughout the film feels like the voyeurism of it’s most important
characters (Ricky and Lester) : a guilty pleasure you can’t help but partake in. As the film
directs it’s meaning behind the walls and curtains of middle-American suburbia, it sings
this folk song loud and clear, like a rebellious anthem of honesty. ‘American Beauty’ is
anything but simple. Whatever familiarity, whatever comparison it draws - here is
nothing like you’ve seen  - and that statement is not meant as commentary or shock
warning. What comes out of this film is at once beautiful, as the title suggests; and ugly,
as it’s characters live only to mask. It’s trials come about with real depth, real originality
and sincerity. There are moments in the film that will rewrite your soul and some words
that will trap your brain into examining the reality of itself (and the surrealism of
everyday). This is one of the few films released in recent years that spoke to me directly
from the inside and I found solace in relating to.

Run Lola Run

 Another oddball prize for the year : the most energy I’ve seen in a film to date. A
three-act video game of sorts where you watch the crimson red-haired Lola race against
the clock to receive enough money to buy her boyfriend Manni out of his trouble with a
violent hood. The first acts concludes. You’ve lost. And it starts up again. Two players
left. And the film moves with just that speed-obsessed attitude. Electronica blasts over
the soundtrack. Lola runs. And runs. And runs. Tom Tykwer’s film, a near-allegory for
the coming millenium (when it was released in August of 1999), is such a watchable
piece of raw entertainment. It will remind you of the fast and delectable pace of
‘Trainspotting’ - but even more swift. It’s a film that maintains countless viewings and a
film that will pump you up. It’s got an amazing performance by Franka Potente as the
lovable, if misguided Lola. It’s the headliner (along with my next choice : ‘The Blair
Witch Project’) of a new wave of film. It’s electric. It’s visually stunning. ‘Run Lola
Run’ is the speed of light, the speed of light and the speed of our future - on film.

Election

 Maybe the reason I liked ‘Election’ so much was it’s fiery and pitch-deterring
premise : High School ethics teacher will stop at nothing to hinder overachieving
student’s bid for school president. Meanwhile, he sleeps with his wife’s best friend
(whose ex-husband was banished from the area for sleeping with just the same
overachiever that the ethics teacher is so adamant about halting). The befitting word:
biting. This film bites with such a commentary, such a unique vision of casting (Matthew
Broderick as the bad guy, Reese Witherspoon as the student) and such a fresh and
unforgettable yarn - it’s hard to simply classify it as a comedy. It’s a brutal satire with
much more credit due than it earned itself at the box office. Who could forget the tension
mounting as an untreated bee sting continued to swell as Broderick’s plan and his
marriage fall apart? Who could ignore the freeze frame that exists in a period of ten
seconds that gives us a very un-expository background of all the characters? Is it
over-the-top or is it played just right? Is there a tone set or a message to be conveyed, or,
is writer-director Alexander Payne (‘Citizen Ruth’) simply twiddling about inside this
unfashionable and brilliant plot? It’s a series of questions that come up over and over,
viewing after viewing - but one constant remains - ‘Election’ is the smartest and most
brilliantly executed vision of high school politics (both literal and figurative) in
existence.

After-life

 ‘After-life’ reminded me of ‘The Truman Show’. It’s a film with such an exciting,
fresh premise that is executes it to absolute perfection. ‘After-life’ is a tranquil melody of
a film. It regards a team of Japanese workers, actually working at the gates of heaven so
to speak, helping newcomers to the eternal bliss in pinpointing the one moment they
would take with them from earth to the next life. During their stay, they are to make a
film chronicling this moment. It’s the type of film where everyone is sedate - the serene
calming effect it has wisps you away to this fantasy world easily and without resistance.
The interpretation of the place just outside the gates of heaven is neither assuming nor
lofty and does the smart thing by leaving heaven to our imaginations (for those of you
waiting to catch me contradicting myself after my rant over the pompous definitiveness
of heaven in the pompously crappy ‘What Dreams May Come’). Though neither a big
movie or a loud movie, there is more truth and beauty in all the silence of ‘After-life’
than a dozen American action films. And that’s the way it should be.

Being John Malkovich

 You must think me insane. After I lambasted this film for it’s startling jolt of
reality in it’s third act, I thought about it. And I thought about it. And I thought about it
some more. I saw it again. A second viewing is the better viewing. What an amazing
work of fluffy ridiculousness, haunting self-discovery and tragicomedy. And for the love
of God - Malkovich is due an Oscar! It is he who holds the threads together, parades a
brilliant self-mockery and plays into the very absurdity that John Malkovich would be
part of some strange hero-worship cult. When he’s mocking himself, he’s terrific. When
he’s playing John Cusack (who inhabits his body for quite awhile), he’s a grand
comedian : doing an impression of someone we all know (since we’ve been watching
him throughout the first part of the film) in the presence of the story we’re all watching
him in. Blurring the audience with a premise that compounds it’s absurdity every
moment is an effective technique. Director Spike Jonze exploits it well, taking it low-key
and keeping the visuals simplistic rather than extravagent and irritating (as most music
video directors would do : see ‘Stigmata’). The reason this film works so perfectly is that
it never makes perfect sense. It exists in another world, but hides behind the pretense of
our world. What hangs especially heavy is the fact that writer Charlie Kaufman has
several other scripts that have just been sold. All of them deal with the oddities of the
body. We’re all in for a whole box of cinematic ecstasy in the very near future.

The Blair Witch Project

 The genre was dead. Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez had the key to bringing
it back to life. They had shot it in 1994 and left it on the shelf, thinking it unworthy. So
for 5 years, the recreation of the classic horror film was only scaring up dust. Released
and built up as a confusing reality - on a website (sure to go down in folklore), in the
press, on television, even word of mouth advertising which called for a limited release
two weeks prior to it’s theatrical run - the marketing alone is kinda scary. Kinda really
scary. But, beyond the genius behind the most successful film ever made (I think the
rough estimate was that it made something like five-hundred times as much as it cost to
make); the film stands tall on it’s own and speaks jarringly for itself. Both times I’ve
watched it, I’ve felt so uncomfortable, so tense, so scared - I can hear my heart beating
out of my chest. I watch this grainy and not quite real home video footage, laced to an
amped up soundscape (the hidden masterstroke) and I’m genuinely afraid. And I love it.
It’s just an amazing fright film, hands down. Now, for the business end of it. The fatal
flaw in this film’s following (and I don’t really consider this a real flaw) is that it’s a
closed experience. It’s an exhilarating descent of sorts that disturbs you to no end while
you’re watching it - but it doesn’t go to far with you. You may be aware of your
surroundings for a night - but it doesn’t haunt you like some. It’s an entirely internal
event - and you’ll never be more sucked into a film. It’s 80 minutes fly by like 5. And
perhaps that’s what turned millions of moviegoers and video renters against this modern
masterpiece. Maybe they couldn’t admit to themselves, at the height of their fear, the fact
that they were manipulated and, above all, the terrifying reality that they’d seen
something genuine - not a straight-to-video, by-the-numbers gore-fest. This is an
honest-to-goodness thrill ride, in the tradition of ‘Alien’, that I was not ashamed to call
the scariest horror movie experience I’ve ever had. And I stand by that.

The Dreamlife of Angels

 A wonderful French film about the friendship between two stragglers, one a girl
who has left home in search of independence and the other a likeable, but jealous
squatter. Second cousin to ‘Breaking the Waves’, the best scenes in this film are of Isa,
played magnificently by Elodie Bouchez, who watches over a stranger, a comatose little
girl in whose house she and Marie (Natacha Regnier) are squatting.  Like a real-life
angel, Isa reads to her and shows her pictures - it’s absolutely beautiful and
heartbreaking. And it all comes around full circle as Marie’s life spins hopelessly out of
control when her jealously burns her - and the friendship. The real driving force of this
truly rich and fantastic movie is the brilliant performances of it’s two principles, who
shared the ‘Best Actress’ award at Cannes last year. ‘The Dreamlife of Angels’ stuck
with me - I mean it really sat in my shell like a piece of sediment. But what remains after
we’re haunted by the almost documentary-like feel of the awesome hand-held
photography is the simplest, most base form - emotion, the shiny pearl from the
aggravation inside of this oyster of a film.

Felicia’s Journey

 You’d think after an accomplishment like ‘The Sweet Hereafter’, Atom Egoyan,
one of the best directors working today, would get a little more recognition when he
followed it up with this equally unsettling and certainly brilliant film. Two weeks in
Philadelphia. Hardly even noticed in the country. Whisked away to video, where it can
enjoy even more obscurity. What a shame. The best of the three very Hitchcockian films
to be released this year (‘The Talented Mr. Ripley’ and ‘The Sixth Sense’ being the other
two), ‘Felicia’s Journey’ is a really solid effort. Everything meticulously crafted, from the
wood finish look of Hilditch’s mansion to the use of language - Egoyan has created a
film that’s equal parts ‘Shadow of a Doubt’ and ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’. The
performances by Bob Hoskins (#4 in my list of great male performances this year - keep
reading) and Joanna Cassidy are so sound and both come through so heartily - it’s
unsettling to watch the cat and mouse game of a vicious, gigantic cat, speaking
eloquently and traumatized with a naive and timid little mouse - who doesn’t know it’s
the victim. A fascinating, if extremely heavy film.

Fight Club

 Subversive subliminal techniques, special effects that call attention to how cool
they are and viscous and sadistic violence. Hard to believe that such a visionary and dark
film could occupy a place in cinema as fleeting as it did. Here’s another film that missed
it’s mark - and it’s audience. So why am I so gung-ho about it? Because it occupied my subconscious so heavily and so completely that, even moreso than ‘Magnolia’, I was not
able to stop thinking about it for days. Literally, it occupied every single thought I had from
the time I woke up until I laid my bones down to sleep. As conflicted as I was about ‘Fight
Club’, I loved it. Brad Pitt and Edward Norton both give knockout performances as Tyler
Durden and “Jack”, respectively. The dark horse of corporate sabotage, underground club
founding and just good old-fashioned mayhem, Tyler Durden may be one of the most prolific characters in recent cinema - and he may not. The film leaves you full of these little questions
- each one burrowing itself into your brain so that even if you don’t like the film at first, you’re
still going to be thinking about it regardless. For days and days and days.

The Limey

 “I looked under chairs/I looked under tables/They call me the seeker”, boom the
words from The Who’s ‘The Seeker’ as the opening credits burst onto the screen, “I don’t
get to get what I’m after/until the day I die”. Another of the great characters of recent
cinema - simply named Wilson (Terence Stamp, Yes the big #5 in male performances,
‘99) - Steven Soderburgh’s latest opus deals with the classic themes of revenge,
redemption and loyalty. Fragmented editing ushers ‘The Limey’ (as it did in his former
masterworks ‘Out of Sight’ and ‘The Underneath’ - yes, the unsung and greatly
underrated re-make of 1949’s ‘Criss Cross’) into a mismatch of past (Terence Stamp in
Ken Loach’s ‘Poor Cow’, circa 1967), present and future. This tale becomes a beautiful
infusion of all three. ‘The Limey’ is energetic, low-key and very, very entertaining.
Stamp, whom I’m convinced is mocking his own thick-accent (is this the year for
self-mockery or what - we’re taking ourselves lightly at the end of the millenium), is
flat-out splendid. Watching the nearly unintelligible accent wreak havoc with everyone
involved (especially in a funny cameo turn by Bill Duke) becomes both a challenge and a
pleasure. Peter Fonda, as aging record producer Terry Valentine, (inviting reminders of
his lifetime attachment to the sixties, ie ‘Easy Rider’) is extremely effective. While
Stamp is looking “under chairs” and trying to “get what [he’s] after” - his Wilson is one
ultracool badass. Soderburgh may underscore with his nifty editing, but it’s Stamp who
carries the movie.

The Minus Man

 The numbness left in me as I walked out of the theater was strange. Hampton
Fancher’s extremely abstract and very smart character study had affected me like drugs. I
was quiet and detached. I admired the film. Owen C. Wilson’s performance, polite and
caring, had rocked me (#6 anybody?). I loved the sparing use of voice-over and the even
more sparing use of violence. A calm, exacting euthenasiast, poisoning amaretto and
slipping it into the drinks of those whom he felt were too unhappy to live anymore. The
dream sequences where he imagines two police officers (Dwight Yoakam and Dennis
Haybsert) deciding his fate. The tender way he handles the couple he lives with (Brian
Cox and Mercedes Ruel) and the girl who is in love with him (a nice, really
unostentatious turn by Janeane Garofalo). All sorts of small, fragments that fit together,
like broken shards of a mirror, to form the reflection of an extremely interesting
character. A film whose silence is deafening.

Tarzan

 In what is one of the most perfect and accomplished animated films I’ve ever
seen - Disney has created a succinct, cinematic and entirely passionate story of parallel
worlds. It’s also somewhat experimental in nature - an action movie shifting tones and
visualizing a universe while practically reinventing the use of animated cinematography
(particularly moving camera shots). While, as usual, I’m simply astonished in front of the
screen, I’m also feeling the gears rotating in my head - there’s a level of darkness in the
coming to terms with death and a level of hope in the foster care of a human by apes - a
ray of Darwin-laced goodness made less a cartoon than a reality. This is the idea of man
being ushered in by his predecessors, learning the base elements of his existence and the
animalistic tones to his attitude - and compounding these survival skills by reaching out
to embrace human interaction - to embrace the realization of man’s place in relation to
the beasts of the forest. That said, the character of Tarzan is intense - violent,
misunderstood and precarious of his feelings. The entire setting of the Disney landscape -
the talking animals, the villain and the love interest are all played down so that all which
is allowed to remain in your perception is the motion of energy, the beauty of the jungle
and the entire struggle to maintain balance in nature. Grappling with the big issues and
remaining a thoughtful and child-oriented slab of entertainment - "Tarzan" is a joy to
behold.

Titus

 The visual imagination of Julie Taymor is astounding. Bringing ‘The Lion King’
to life on the stage and now ‘Titus’, a lengthy, violent and flamboyantly exciting
Shakespearean adaptation; she is brilliant. A colorful and vibrant film, complete with
digitally enhanced effects (a woman with twigs for hands - amazing), extremely dark
comedy and amazing performances - I still call ‘Titus’ a masterpiece. It stands in the
same vein as recent Shakespeare films, like Richard Loncraine’s ‘Richard III’ and
Kenneth Branaugh’s ‘Hamlet’. ‘Titus’ is striking and original, evoking the true nature of
Shakespeare’s tragedies: swarming and passionate. Amazing performances from Anthony
Hopkins and Jessica Lange and, above all; Harry Lennix, as the dissolute Aaron - a
character not unlike ‘Othello’’s Iago. Above all, the film is a show. It’s a great big circus
of majestic paints and fiery revenge fantasies - and swirling around - is that great, poetic
old English, still far superior to the ‘slang’ we shoot around in today’s language.

Toy Story 2

 Inherently insightful, extremely sharp and absolutely superior to it’s predecessor,
Pixar’s pride and joy, ‘Toy Story 2’, is just a wonder to behold. Everything here is
lovingly entertaining and glides just far enough away from Disney to be, oh what do the
kids call it - ‘cutting edge’ - but stays close enough to the heart of the big mouse to
remain an endearing film, further exposing some of the best characters ever animated :
Woody and Buzz. The peak into the mind of a toy is more realistically etched than most
dramatic films attempting to get inside the minds of real people. The jokes are wittier,
more direct and, following with the theme of the year, extremely self-mocking (of both
itself and it’s parent company). It’s high time we see a film that depicts toy collectors as
big, greedy kids that are more obsessed with image and value than the actual plaything
they possess. The new villain is voiced by Wayne Knight (yes, “hello Newman”) and
there are a whole slew of new and wonderful characters : The Miner who is ‘mint in the
box’; Jessie, Woody’s sister; and the evil Zurg (Buzz’s archnemesis), who hilariously
undergoes some confrontation with his own childhood trauma. Endlessly inventive and
tirelessly full of heart and comedy.

Also Highly Recommended
(singular and noteworthy achievements)

Anywhere But Here - an underrated film from master director Wayne Wang, complete
  with two wonderful performances from Natalie Portman and Susan Sarandon.

Boys Don't Cry - an upsetting film with the best female performance of the year : Hilary
  Swank as Teena Brandon, a girl exposed while masquerading as a boy in the
  heartland.

Bringing Out the Dead - a hyper-energetic three act film about an ambulance driver
  (Nicholas Cage) searching for solace on the streets of NY. Tom Sizemore is
  phenomenol as one of Cage’s three maniacal EMT partners

The Cider House Rules - a wonderful life story complete with an apt cast of child actors
  and the indispensable Michael Caine.

Cookie's Fortune - another delightful film from Robert Altman, his best since ‘Short
  Cuts’. Wonderful ensemble cast led by Charles S. Dutton.

eXistenZ - a numbing and smart science-fiction caper about a virtual reality machine that
  consumes both Jude Law and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Truly outshined ‘The Matrix’.

The Green Mile - extremely watchable and moving prison drama with Tom Hanks, again
  wowing us with his super-nice guy posteur.

The Iron Giant - another great animated movie, this one a great comment on fifties
  paranoia and friendship. Just delightful.

Man of the Century and Mumford - two feather light, easygoing comedies : the former a
  sendup of twentiespeak and the latter, a well-rendered ‘Great Imposter’ story with
  Loren Dean easily carrying the film.

Man on the Moon - Jim Carrey (here comes #7!) is absolute wonderment as
  comedian/prankster Andy Kaufman in a clumsy, but funny biopic of his life.

New Rose Hotel - Unfortunately straight-to-video, Abel Ferrara’s adaptation of this
  Wiliam Gibson short story is ambiguous, driven and visually stunning.

Ravenous - Sly humor and pro-cannibalism. An offbeat and curious little film.

The Red Violin - The Canadians have done it again! A moving continental film about a
  violin’s three century journey into the hands of  Samuel L. Jackson

The Sixth Sense - An absolutely eerie thriller made entirely in the style of Hitchcock.

Sleepy Hollow - Visually perfect. Not too many movies get this stamp of approval, but
  Tim Burton’s achievment earns it in every single frame.

The Source - A fascinating and fast-moving documentary regarding the beat movement.
Sweet and Lowdown - Woody Allen’s psuedo-biopic of the late great jazz guitarist
  Emmett Ray, played hilariously by Sean Penn.

Three Kings - A true original. Just missed being in the top ten. The kind of multi-layered
  film that consistently works on each of it’s levels. George Clooney is just about
  amazing. I’m convinced that he’s the risen Cary Grant.

The Winslow Boy - Also nearly missed the top ten. David Mamet’s clean and tense
 re-working of the classic play. And when I say clean, I mean it’s G-rated. And it’s
 amazing. Nigel Hawthorne and Rebecca Pidgeon give forcefully grand displays.
 

Ten Abhorrences to avoid if      confronted with

10. Any Given Sunday

 When you throw seven subplots, a soundtrack cranked up to "guaranteed
deafness" volume and a barrage of familiar, boring dialogue into the endzone - invariably
it may pass itself off as a raw and untapered pump-fest and get away with it. Granted.
"Any Given Sunday" is the emptiest, poorest use of resources possible for a male
revitalization ceremony. Every second I was watching the film - save the first twenty
minutes, which are beautifully chaotic and striking - I was waiting for it to evolve into
something solid. But it never does, it stays as soft as clay - moldable and without any
closure. Had Stone gone the extra mile and put it in the kiln (read : picked a focal point
and stuck with it) - it could have been a good film. As it is, it feels like a
work-in-progress I'd have to bite my tongue not to criticize loudly.

9. The General's Daughter

 It's always fun to picture studio execs seated around a polished table, drinking
bottled water and discussing how they can adapt the rights to a novel they've just
purchased. The meeting over "The General's Daughter" probably went something like
this - Pitch : We've got a very serious story about a girl who has been raped and whose
father, valuing the secrecy and tradition of army integrity, denies the incident and buries
it. In a therapeutic and horrid exhibition, she recreates it, hoping he'll resolve the matter
between them or at least show him how awful her experience was. Oh, and there's a
subtle romance between the investigator (John Travolta) and the rape specialist
(Madeline Stowe) who are hired to sort through the aftermath. Q: Should we make it a
serious film or pleasant (?!) summer fare? A : Well - we won't make any money with a
serious film, let's try to make this dark subject matter entertaining and let's get
Bruckheimer ("The Rock", "Con Air") in on it. A sick and truly inappropriately rendered
film.

8. Joe the King

 Frank Whaley, working from his own experiences, has created an extremely
detached and uninteresting memoir of sorts. Casting such heavies as Camryn Manheim,
Ethan Hawke, Val Kilmer and John Leguizamo - in sorted supporting roles - he proves
that Hollywood considers the independent film a cleansing zone for stars to try to prove
they're real actors instead of earning tools. Copying the last frame of Truffaut's "The 400
Blows" seems like the ultimate blasphemy in what is a truly one-dimensional offering
from an obvious actor-turned-director-overnight job. Got me good and familiar with the
workings of a new watch I had purchased.

7. American Pie

 My brother told me I wouldn't have lasted in the 1980's because every teen
comedy was just like ‘American Pie’. I thanked him for the warning and for saving me
some time. Here's another great paradox : Teens learn that you don't need sex to have a
healthy, rewarding relationship - and five minutes later - they're all engaging in raw,
unadulterated coitus. One more : a movie billed as funny that hasn't a single funny joke in
it (save the short-film material that is the "Nadia masturbating" scene). And those of you
using Eugene Levy as your scapegoat to the "it's not bad" safety net - no one's buying that
crap - this is less celluloid than an unrated Fox melodrama.

6. For Love of the Game

 I consider it rude to walk out of a film, no matter how bad it is. You can always
bitch about it later, right? Here's the true challenge : Sam Raimi's (yes, that Sam Raimi)
‘For Love of the Game’, a film in which Kevin Costner and Kelly Preston commit
relationship suicide for over (well over!) two hours, yet still manage to walk through their
roles. Fifteen minutes into it, I looked at my filmgoing partner - a shared look of "it's
going to be a long, boring sit" took place. When a film is work to sit through -
something's wrong. Course, I'm the rube that paid to see it, knowing full well what I was
getting into. I'd like to say there's no one to blame but myself, but that would be the easy
way out. I'm going to blame everyone who was involved in this atrociously pulse-less
formula fest - right down to the gaffer.

5. The Thirteenth Floor

 Craig Bierko is involved in a virtual reality creation that's equal parts (and by this
I mean direct theft of) ‘Back to the Future 3’, ‘Dark City’, ‘The Matrix’ and ‘Terminator
2’. Not only is he a brooding and extremely dry presence to be carrying a film - he can't
possibly think his taking the fall as the key glitch here will mask what an unintelligible,
yet strangely familiar and constantly slow-moving film this really is. That last shot looks
as if it were taken literally from the storyboard of ‘Dark City’. Free advice : If you're
going to be unoriginal, cover your tracks. More free advice : if you’re going to make a
film, don’t make a really bad one.

4. The 13th Warrior

 When it began, I was open-minded and ready to accept whatever a shelved
Banderas action pic based on an early Michael Crichton novel could dish out. I marveled
at how fast it painted Banderas's past - and moved on to his career as an ambassador that
hangs out with Vikings, only to become one of their "thirteen warriors" in an effort to
fight cannibalistic baddies that have terrorized them. At this point, stop reading and go
back and examine some of the elements I've revealed and ask yourself if there's any
possible way to make sed elements into something watchable. When Banderas learns
their language (from sitting around a fire with them two whole nights in a row!) and
suddenly their foreign tongue - like some dubbed epiphany - becomes English, you'll be
missing that precious money spent on such a travesty moreso that you miss your dead
relatives.

3. Deep Blue Sea

 Deep Blue Sea is actually quite miraculous in it's faults. It's a movie that starts as
if a half hour already lapsed in it's storyline - and it genuinely expects the audience to
either figure it out or fill in the gaps. When the digitally created sharks do show up -
supposedly the savior in throwaway summer horror films, not to mention visual effects
extravaganzas - they're utterly boring. They are forgettable and lack any real presence
that could possibly create a threat for the paper thin characters. And therein lies the rub -
the writing and acting are so far below par, we want to root for the sharks, it's only
natural. But the sharks, remember, were a let-down, so it becomes a struggle as to which
life form we're rooting for. Kind of an interior struggle to choose the lesser of two evils.
Me? I was rooting for a power failure in my house, rendering my VCR useless.

2.  Dogma

 Ever notice how Kevin Smith is considered a poster boy for "independent
filmmaker"? Why is that? This guy has less than no talent. If he had no talent, at least
there'd be a reason for my complaints - but he made the hilarious and promising
"Clerks.". So, how did I arrive, using my logic, at the conclusion that he has less than no
talent? Simple. You take the 1 point he earned by making "Clerks." and subtract a point
each for the unfunny "Mallrats", the pompous (and again unfunny) "Chasing Amy" and
two points for the overlong, word-heavy (like carrying a Buick full of religious jargon
over your shoulder) "Dogma". Folks, the talley is -3. If I were anyone remotely connected
to money in the film industry - I'd spend that money having him run out of town before he
can "create" again. But that's just me. (Yeah, TUA Bookstore employee, I’m talking at
you!)

1. Stigmata

 Here we have the ultimate example of why music-video directors should pass
through a series of tests before given the task of creating a motion picture. Unintelligible,
poorly acted, visually uninteresting and, dare I say, boring, is the film that is ‘Stigmata’.
Patricia Arquette (the huge blemish on the enjoyable and cathartic ‘Bringing Out the
Dead’) screams her lines, Gabriel Byrne seems distracted (probably by the paycheck he
was looking forward to) and Jonathan Pryce is absolutely awful as the hammy Houseman
(sounds like a new wave DJ of rave mixes), crown prince of the Catholic Church. The
movie looks like a projected video monitor playback of a Tony Scott movie. It appears to
be letterboxed - cropped and then put on the screen. I have never jotted so many awful
and unkind things in my notes. A true abomination of cinema and proof that the horror
genre is, in fact, dead.