The Best Films of 2008

1. Synecdoche, New York

Charlie Kaufmann's directorial debut, a haunting, loving, brilliant tome on life and mortality, was the most affecting film of the year.  A superbly-crafted existential fantasy about a theater director who fills a warehouse with a reenactment of his life and the lives of everyone around him, the plot doesn't work in a chronological, traditional way but instead as an emotional journey towards the end of...us.  Featured powerful performances by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Samantha Morton and Michelle Williams.  Not to be underestimated or dismissed, a film masterwork that lingers long after the credits roll, begging to be revisited.  A classic. 

2. Milk & Paranoid Park

It was quite a year for Gus Van Sant, the best American filmmaker currently working.  He began 2008 with one of his lyrical, heartbreaking, aggressively independent arthouse features (a la My Own Private Idaho, Elephant, Last Days) Paranoid Park, about a teenager wandering aimless in the wake of a terrible accident and ended with a return to what, for Van Sant, counts as mainstream (a la To Die For, Good Will Hunting, Finding Forrester) Milk, the story of the first openly gay man ever elected to public office.  The former was an act of filmmaking brilliance, subtly Felliniesque and Hitchcockian, rewriting the language of cinema and never losing the emotional core of this boy on this journey.  The latter was the most uplifting film of the year, finding joy and hope in absolute sorrow.  Milk also contained some of the best performances of the year-- Sean Penn outdoing himself once again, James Franco re-astounding after a virtuoso comedic turn in Pineapple Express and Josh Brolin bringing real pathos to the role of Dan White, turning what could have been a one-note character into the most complex man in the film.  Paranoid Park brought us the debut of Gabe Nevins, with a face that Van Sant trusts to carry his entire film-- it does.

3. The Wrestler

An emotional wrecking ball of a film, anchored by the performance of the year.  For once, all the hype is true: Mickey Rourke is that good as Randy "the Ram" Robinson, a broken down piece of meat, an aging pro-wrestler who traded in his life for the whiz and the bang of the crowds and the fame and finds himself middle-aged and alone.  Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood are good in supporting roles, but this is Rourke's show-- playing of his own broken persona he finds the heart of the character and never misses the mark.  Occasionally the film can't live up to the extraordinary realism of this performance, but it's a tiny flaw-- Darren Arronofsky trades in his usual theatrics for a more somber, toned down approach and almost scores a complete masterwork.

4. Doubt

John Patrick Shanley brought his Pulitzer and Tony award winning play about the evolution of the Catholic Church in the wake of John Paul the Second to the big screen with out losing much of the parable's power.  As much a period piece as an allegory on certainty or a drama about homosexuality and child molestation, it contained more notable work from Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep, although the film is stolen by Viola Davis, going head to head with Streep in a ten minute scene that becomes the heart of the film.  The woman is incredible.   The most intelligent film of the year.

5. Forgetting Sarah Marshall & Pineapple Express

Judd Apatow and his unstoppable comedy factory were responsible for the two funniest, purest entertainments of the year-- the first,Forgetting Sarah Marshall, was a fairly traditional romcom that never lost touch with realism whilst keeping the heart and humor intact in it's story of a man recently broken up from his girlfriend who goes to Hawaii to ease the pain, only to find here there with her new beau.  The second and the most interesting was David Gordon Green's second masterwork of the year, a brilliant combination of wildly homoerotic buddy comedy, stoner romp, head trip, and action satire.  Forgetting Sarah Marshall proved the big screen viability of Peter Segal, who scripted and starred; Pineapple Express continued Seth Rogan's steamroll through Hollywood and featured another truly exceptional performance by James Franco.

6. Wall-E

Great science fiction is rare, making this Pixar release a gem.  And it's a wonder it was even green-lit by parent corporation Disney-- so sparse on dialogue is the first half it almost plays as a Chaplin-esque silent film and so heavy handed the environmental message of the second half it plays almost as propaganda.  But never mind the last act flaws, the film is magical.  About a robot left alone cleaning Earth after man has ben forced to desert the planet , the film is cute, touching and heart-rending, smart and perceptive, and the animation is brilliant.  Not a 'children's film' by any means, it's a worthwhile experience for anyone with a penchant for great cinema.

7. Revolutionary Road

Sam Mendes directs reteams Kate Winslet (his wife) and Leonardo DiCaprio in this unofficial sequel to Titanic filtered through his own American Beauty.  Frank and April Wheeler are two free-sprits who, in the mid-50s, are disenchanted with the average life but find themselves saddled with children, pointless responsibilities and trapped in a suburban hell from which they are unable and unwilling to escape.  In a big, brassy performance Winslet is extraordinary and DiCaprio hits a personal best with his quieter, more subtle performance.  The film occasionally ascends into melodrama and a few scenes find the wrong tone, but the closing passages are wrenching, the emotional currents that flows through the film are unwavering, and when the two leads spar, your witnessing some of the best acting of the year.  A devastating portrait of suburbia that makes American Beauty look like 'Father Knows Best'.

8. The Duchess

An intelligent, exuberant, touching and entertaining costume drama (the best in some time, in fact), telling the engrossing story of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire, married to the duke at a young age and effectively imprisoned-- a bird in a gilded cage-- unable to pursue her own passions and, infuriating the Duke to no end, unable to produce a male heir.  Slightly feminist in theme, the film is handsomely mounted, continually gorgeous, showing a young woman ahead of her time, awash in celebrity and fashion, and, as seen by Saul Dibb's film, increasingly relevant to today.  Keira Knightley shines as the centerpiece of the film, but Ralph Fiennes, as her husband, is the real standout, taking a character that, on paper, is no more than a standard villain and via performance making him relatable, despicable, sympathetic and terrifying... all at once.

9. The Dark Knight

The biggest, most popular film of the year (and almost of all time), the latest Batman film was intense, mesmerizing, suspenseful and shockingly intelligent.  The years most effective score underlined the action and the suspense builds to a breaking point, overshadowing that the film is overlong and riddled with plot holes.  And the performances!  Heath Ledger in a swan song of terrifying, chaotic insanity.  Aaron Eckhart in a big, juicy, melodramatic role that he chews through admirably.  Christian Bale, still the most effective of all the batmen.  And Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gary Oldman, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman in supporting roles as good as you would expect from such marquee names.

10. Snow Angels

A small, quiet drama from David Gordon Green about a teenager making the first steps towards love and a thirty-something couple taking the final steps away from it, before everyone is irrevocably changed by a tragedy.  The film is set in a small, icy Northeast town in the dead of winter, and the photography is perceptive and beautiful.  The first two thirds of the film are perfect, the final reel expertly made but belonging to a more melodramatic film.  Sam Rockwell is brilliant as an unstable alcoholic trying and failing to get clean and Kate Beckinsale is a revelation as his ex-wife, trying and failing to get by.

Most Disappointing 

1. Slumdog Millionaire

2. Wanted

3. Religulous

4. Burn After Reading

5. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Performances 2008

Actor

Leonardo DiCaprio (Revolutionary Road)

Colin Farrell (In Bruges)

Sean Penn (Milk)

Sam Rockwell (Snow Angels)

Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)

Actress

Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married)

Keira Knightley (The Duchess)

Frances McDormand (Burn After Reading, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day)

Meryl Streep (Doubt)

Kate Winslet (Revolutionary Road)

Featured Actor

Josh Brolin (Milk)

Ralph Fiennes (The Duchess)

James Franco (Milk, Pineapple Express)

Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon)

Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)

Featured Actress

Penelope Cruz (Vicki Christina Barcelona)

Viola Davis (Doubt)

Rosemarie Dewitt (Rachel Getting Married)

Emma Thompson (Brideshead Revisited)

Debra Winger (Rachel Getting Married)

Bush/Nixon

I know that the above picture is... aggressive, but this is not, really, going to be a tirade comparing our most disgraced president to the controversial man who just left office.  They are not really the same in any way, other than infamy, in my opinion.

First though, a little bit about the Academy award nominated Frost/Nixon.  It is fine.  It is entertaining, and occasionally it reaches beyond into moments that are truly extraordinary but they, alas, do not last.  The film is directed rather pedestrianly, but no one can be expected, least of all Ron Howard, to reinvent the wheel with what is essentially a performance piece.  And, yes, that's what it is.  Frank Langella as Richard M. Nixon is sublime, Michael Sheen as David Frost is very good; Rebecca Hall is beautiful, Kevin Bacon is steely, Oliver Platt is comic relief-- everyone does a fine job.   

Instead, this is a post (like a similar post on Gus van Sant's Milk) about how bloody goddamn timely the film is.  The David Frost interviews were the point when an angry, disillusioned America got what they wanted (and deserved) from a president who had tarnished the office, the country, and himself: not necessarily an apology, but at least an admission of guilt.  Afterwards, they were free to move on.

And here we are, in 2009, deserving the same thing from a man guilty of the same sins.  Richard Nixon (according to Howard's film and most widely accepted accounts of him) was an intelligent man, ill-at-ease with himself.  He had the brevity to accept guilt, inwardly at least (the Frost confession is still far from an outright confession), and contained the admirable ability to self-doubt.  George W. Bush is of middling intelligent, filled with bravado-- I doubt he believes he has done anything wrong, nor could he ever admit to doing so.

And that is a shame.  More shameful, however, is that there is no clamor for any such apology for any alleged wrongdoings... or even a clear explanation.  Despite all the blatant lies about such a wide range of things and all the lives ruined because of said lies, no one seems to care... It's as if the last eight years, with all their horrendous nonsense, were just one of those things.  And, I suppose, it is-- in the modern age of American and world politics-- but only because we allow it to.

I suppose that John F. Kennedy was the last time America actually believed in any of it's leaders (of course, I could be wrong-- maybe we've always mistrusted and blindly accepted, from Washington and Jefferson through the modern day-- maybe we've always elected shepherd instead of Commanders in Chief and history has convinced us otherwise) then he was shot and we were given Johnson and his Vietnam fiasco followed by the Nixon scandals.  Behold, the fathers of American cynicism, producing their heirs in Reagen, Clinton and the Bushes.  Is Obama any better?  Theoretically, a week in, he seems honest anyway, which is refreshing change.

Yes, I know that Bush will never apologize or even admit any wrongdoings in his eight years in office-- he will ride horses and drink O'Douls content with his legacy.   America needed to heal after Watergate-- we demanded something from Nixon, he replied, and left us with bitter scars.  I think we need to heal again after eight years of executive misuse-- yet we demand nothing from Bush, he acts accordingly, and leaves us with open wounds.

On the Birthday of Jackson Pollock...

...allow me a moment to decry the fact that I have been to Cody, Wyoming, the birthplace of the great painter, and was aghast to find that, for the most part, the otherwise lovely town is unaware that they are, in fact, the birthplace of Jackson Pollock. 

They are, however, greatly aware that their town was founded by Buffalo Bill Cody.  They hold a rodeo in his honor.  The kind woman at the Chamber of Commerce offered plenty of information on said rodeo.  She did not know who Jackson Pollock was. 

Two previously posted personal photos from the National Gallery in Washington, D.C.

Suicide Tuesday

I find myself, here on this Suicide Tuesday, alive... vaguely.  Not dead, not permanently maimed, not mindlessly vacant and wandering the streets panhandling for change and wrestling dogs for scraps like a psychotic.  My eyesight is almost entirely back to normal.  I have, more than once, had the energy to get out of bed.  I had the urge to eat something-- not much, but baby steps, of course.  I'm yet to be able to gain an erection, but I'm sure that skill will return in time, and besides... I don't have the energy for one now anyway.  Yes, it was quite a weekend.

I was feeling whimsical after work on Saturday, when we all headed deliriously over to Amps with giant styrofoam letters left at the bar from the private birthday party we had just finished hosting.  I had little interest in spending my hard earned money on a drug I was tired of, as I am fairly tired of cocaine, and instead tried a little harder and got four hits of ecstasy for the same price.  Yay.

So, the rest of the night and most of the morning was spent rolling about the French Quarter.  My initial instincts had been to hookup, but that proved impossible in my attention-deficit state, coupled with the fact that it was about 8am.  Noonish, I went by the bar to retrieve a bag I had left the night before, made my self a triple and wandered out to catch the bus back to Meitaire. 

None of this is the problem, really.  In fact, I was very happy throughout the previously mentioned adventures, as MDMA is wont to make someone be.  In fact, throughout my experimentation, X is definitely my favorite illicit substance.  It's just so overwhelming yet clear.  So complete and intoxicating and still something one can somewhat function on and be out in something similar to a version of public.  The problems began when I got home, wasn't the least bit sleepy, was still rolling a bit, and started drinking on an empty stomach.

I drank all day Sunday.  Jeana got home and took me out to a bar for a drink or two after she got off work.  I came home and continued drinking.  I passed out sometime around 3 in the bathroom.  Sometime around 5 I relocated to my bed.  I woke up around noon (yes, still rolling a bit) and fixed myself a bloody mary, followed by a screwdriver.  This is, I will admit, where awkward decisions were made on my part.  Some people may know that certain kinds of cough syrup and most types of allergy pills will, when taken in unrecommended quantities will make you pleasantly (or unpleasantly, depending on your disposition) wrecked.  So, going to CVS to procure these drugs were not a good idea.  Taking an entire bottle and box of both substances whilst still on a bit of a roll and steadily consuming vast amounts of alcohol was a stupendously bad idea.  I did, however, have quite a time while I could both stand and stay awake.  I passed out in the vicinity of 11(pm) on Monday and awoke about 6(pm) on Tuesday.  Most of the preceding was written on Wednesday.

So, yes, preach if you must... I guess I could have died and that it is a grand miracle that I'm alive.  I did, however, have buckets and buckets of fun.  As I'm conscience to write this, I say even trade.

On the Academy Award Nominations

(Side note:  I've been patiently waiting for Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler to open near me before publishing my year-end best of list.  With the film opening in New Orleans on Friday, expect that list to appear sometime on Monday)

In a year of mostly lackluster films, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences did a fine, if not exceptional, job of choosing nominees for the 2009 Oscar ceremony.  Most surprising were the almost virtual shut outs of three high-profile contenders-- Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino received not a single nomination (take that you old cur!), Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road, considered a shoo-in for Best Picture and lead acting nods walked away with a few tech categories and a silly Supporting Actor nom for Michael Shannon's loud, off-putting work, and The Dark Knight, the most popular film of the year and one of the best, received the obligatory nod for Heath Ledger's knock-out work (expect him to win as well) and swept the tech cats, but went without the expected Best Picture and Best Director nods.

I personally was a little surprised by the myriad of noms for Gus Van Sant's Milk, by far the best of the nominated Best Pictures.  While I think it was almost the best film of the year, I didn't expect the Academy to agree.  After Crash beat Brokeback Mountain in 2005, I thought it was clear they preferred old-fashioned racism parables (this year Gran Torino) to thoughtful gay rights tomes.  Thankfully, I misread, and the AMPAS are atoning for past mistakes.

The acting categories were mostly as predicted with a few surprises-- the invaluable Richard Jenkins snuck in as a lead actor for The Visitor, Melissa Leo as well as lead actress for the little-seen Frozen River.  Taraji P. Henson received a baffling nomination  for her work in The Curious Case on Benjamin Button and, fresh off the massive success of Iron Man, Robert Downey Jr. snuck in for his satirical role in Tropic Thunder.  Personally, if a comedic performance was going to be nominated on the basis of a years worth of stellar work, I would have preferred James Franco in Pineapple Express, but I'll take what I'm given.

Bravo to the Academy for their recognition of Viola Davis's ten show-stopping minutes in Doubt and for not feeling the need to ego-stroke Cate Blanchett for average work in Benjamin Button.  One wonders why they chose to applaud Angelina Jolie's histironics in Changeling and choose Kate Winslet's role in The Reader over more accomplished work in Revolutionary Road.

One also questions the nomination of Waltz with Bashir as Best Foreign Language film but not Best Documentary or Best Animated Film, of which it could also have been nominated.  The original screenplay category contained three small treasures-- In Bruges, Frozen River, and Happy-Go-Lucky; the Best Song category did not contain Bruce Springsteen's marvelous 'The Wrestler', from the eponymous film.

Then there is the troubling case of Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire which, readers of this blog will remember, I hate.  Thankfully none of the subpar acting was singled out, but ten overall nominations for this nonsense is a bit overboard.  The fact that the only slightly better Benjamin Button received 13 is not a bit more heartening.

The Nominees-

Best Picture
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

Actor
Richard Jenkins, The Visitor
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

Actress
Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Angelina Jolie, Changeling
Melissa Leo, Frozen River
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, The Reader

Supporting Actor
Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road

Supporting Actress
Amy Adams, Doubt
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler

Director
David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Gus Van Sant, Milk
Stephen Daldry, The Reader
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

Adapted Screenplay
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Doubt
Frost/Nixon
The Reader

Slumdog Millionaire

Original Screenplay
Frozen River
Happy-Go-Lucky
In Bruges
Milk
Wall-E

Animated Feature Film
Bolt
Kung-Fu Panda
Wall-E

Orpheus

I slid into work just before midnight, already well lubricated from the Brad Paisley concert, and poured myself a triple Jack and Coke.  There was a decent crowd, I went about my work, stocking, refilling, cleaning.  It was Latin Party-- the promoter arrived, the place filled up to capacity within fifteen minutes like a tidal wave overtaking a coastal town. 

Three bartenders scrambling to serve 100 people, one barback scrambling to keep from running out of necessities, unable to get to the store rooms, unable to move through the packed club.

...alerted security to the old homeless man dancing for change inside the VIP after his 'audience' made clear they wished her were no longer there.  It was cold outside-- he didn't want to go.

...ran out of ice, made several trips down to the corner store, dragging back bag after bag or ice, arriving only to have to go again almost immediately. 

...saw the girls screaming and bickering on the side walk, saw the unconscious girl dragged to the chair.

The police came shortly after to deal with the screaming girls, who had stopped their screaming and supplemented it with brawling.  Three cop cars, their lights a fine accompaniment to the house music blasting inside.  Upon entering the lobby, the cops discovered the OD in the chair, called an ambulance to take her away.  Official club position is that she drank too much... I've seen plenty of drunk people, none whose eyes rolled back like that.  Trying to move the girl angered her male companion-- he attacked the police officers and was promptly arrested.

Three strikes, you're out.  Tired of this nonsense, the NOPD shut down the Ohm Lounge at 3am, cleared everyone out, robbed us of at least another $1000 in tips.  The employees promptly went to @ to bemoan their misfortune.

"Chaos, baby.  Bang your head on that."

Time Well Wasted

It was Jeana's birthday, and, in celebration, we went to the Paisley Party tour held at the New Orleans Arena.  

Opening act was Dierks Bentley, giving off the impression of trying to hard to be affable and 'down-home' as he sang all his hits, most of which I like very much.  Was much the change (not necessarily  for the better) from the show he did five years ago at Tipitina's where, by the end of the evening, so drunken was he that the audience sing along was all that could get him through 'What Was I Thinking'.

Followed up by Brad Paisley, guitar virtuoso and probably the most viable artist in country music (great singer, affecting songwriter, astounding musician) singing most of his most recent and popular songs (could have used some 'All I Wanted Was A Car' or 'Time Well Wasted', Brad...).  Said wonderful things about New Orleans, attempted to sing 'City of New Orleans' but was very honest about clearly not knowing the words... promised to learn it next time, sang 'When the Saints Go Marching In' instead.

Anyway, Brad's AV unit deserves an award of some kind, as their displays were breathtaking and at times threatened to overshadow the performer.  Pre-recorded cameos by Taylor Swift, Dierks Bentley, Keith Urban and B.B. King were entertaining.  Pre-recorded cameo by Alison Krauss was not, because my enthusiasm that she's really on the stage!! made me look quite foolish when she turned out to be a video projection.

In all, a fine show.  Drank plenty of Jack Daniel's, felt warm and fuzzy.  These are not my personal photos, but instead belong to Russo-- I forgot my camera.

The American Dream

I have seen the dewey fruition of the American Dream-- the grand, glowing catharsis that is all that this country wishes to be and the perfect example of our can-do spirit.  I have been there, and you can go there, too.  This is Laughlin, Nevada.  But let's be precise:  American Dream is not in Laughlin, it is Laughlin, perched in neon splendor upon the Colorado River.  

But this post is not about Laughlin and why it is the American Dream-- that post will have to wait until I perhaps visit there again (and, great God, how I want to visit that mystical place again).  No, this post is about something I saw today, something I experienced first-hand, fully-immersed in the experience but always the constant outside observer.  Today I saw not the American Dream, but the clawing, fighting, brutal struggle to achieve it, against all odds, through hellish circumstance, desperate attempts to plant personal flags in the fertile soil of our national mythology.

I went with my friend and roommate to Delgado Community College to keep company while she registered for the upcoming semester under the assumption it would take 30 or so minutes.  It did not-- it took hours.  First we stood in a long line a swelteringly hot room-- these people directed us to another line, even longer, located in a hallway.  Upon reaching the front of the hallway line, we were told there was a problem, we could not be helped by these people; to go stand back in the original line.  We stood there (it was shorter this time), and upon reaching the front, were directed to a computer where we filled out some online forms.  Then we went back to the line, stood in it again for some time, and at the front were handed an index card with the number 26.  There were 100 index cards potentially awaiting circulation-- as we tried to find a seat they called number 93.  Thus queued, we waited in the sweltering hot room for one tired woman to process the 32 people ahead of us.

As not a post about Laughlin, Nevada this is also not a post about inefficieny, but instead about the people I witnessed and watched as I waited in these lines.  Everyone seemed to be undergoing similar troubles, hopping about between these long lines and waiting in this oppressively hot room, and yet... the grumbling was almost non-existant.  Yes, of course, there was some overheard here and there in snatches of cellphone conversations and drifting from our own mouths, but over-all... none.

Here were people waiting patiently in this glorious unpleasantness to better themselves, and damn grateful for the opportunity.  Here were people struggling to gain the rights to a piece of paper that would allow them the wages necessary to live in their houses, to drive their cars, to pay for the daycares for the children they were forced to bring with them on this particular day.  Here were people looking to learn a trade in plumbing or welding, to become a teacher, to become a nurse; to learn actual skills apart from the useless liberal arts, things more important than English literature or film studies.

So I watched these people standing in lines attempting to do what, as Americans, we are trained to do.  To improve ourselves, to reach for the stars, to do better in this life than our parents ever had the opportunity to do.  Isn't that the American dream.

A close friend of mine told me some years ago that she could explain the ills of our generation, and I think she made quite an argument.  Modern American society has always been about outdoing our parents, about being richer and more successful than they ever could, yet, our parents reached the pinnacle.  It's impossible now to do better than the parents that run the country, to be more successful or richer than the partners, CEO, politicians who form the upper-middle class that define America.  They've tapped out, leaving their children awash at liberal arts colleges without point or purpose, lethargic and broken.

And I agree with that, for the stereotypical America about which it's written.  But as for the real America?  The one that doesn't run the country but keeps it running?  It is far from the truth.  There is still room for betterment and improvement.  The American dream still exists for the average American, who, as privelage washes down from the upper classes and out amongst the general population, is finally getting a chance.