Tag Archive: Best of ’11


With the Academy Awards just under two weeks away, I thought it was about time for me to share my favorite films of the past year. Some were severely under-looked, while others rightfully got the attention they deserved. But I want to split them all up into a few categories.

First, here are the films that I genuinely liked this year that made 2011 pretty enjoyable: Hanna, Tyrannosaur, 50/50, Hugo, Warrior, The Future, Pariah, The Beaver, The Trip, Tabloid, Higher Ground, Win Win, The Adjustment Bureau.

Second, here are films that were better and *just* missed my cut: Contagion, The Guard, The Artist, Moneyball, Margaret, Cedar Rapids, Midnight in Paris, Paul, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, A Separation, Shame, Carnage, Certified Copy.

Alright, here are my ten favorites from this year:

10. The Descendants (Dir. Alexander Payne)

Alexander Payne's observant dramedy was well written with exceptional performances from George Clooney and Shailene Woodley.

While it didn’t reach the emotional heights of Sideways or the bite of Election, Alexander Payne’s newest film still sits with his others as an accomplished, funny, and genuinely moving one. George Clooney gives one of his best performances as a father grappling with his late wife’s adulterous acts while trying to maintain family stability. It’s a memorable, believable, and insightful American drama.

9. The Tree of Life (Dir. Terrence Malick)

Malick's latest film evokes a beauty based on sensational imagery and ideas.

Probably the most polarizing film of the year, audiences either loved or hated renowned director Terrence Malick’s fifth (only!) feature. I was anticipating this perhaps too much, but I left with a unique experience unlike one I’ve ever had in the theater. Frustration and confusion eventually transformed into a higher appreciation; before I knew it, I loved its refusal to be taken for granted, its endless unusual interpretations, and, especially, its bold techniques that create an oblique but unquestionable emotional response. It’s cerebral, striking, and very resonant.

8. Meek’s Cutoff (Dir. Kelly Reichardt)

Haunting historical fiction that places Reichardt at the top of American independent filmmakers.

Who knew a film about the Oregon Trail could be so insidiously provocative and jarring? Kelly Reichardt’s film both evokes a natural, quiet, and calm sensibility and a nightmarish confinement as it tells the story of several travelers making it across the historical terrain. Michelle Williams and Bruce Greenwood give fantastic performances, but this is a film that should be lauded for its own construction. Reichardt’s direction is distinctive and exciting, as she weaves together thoughts and ideas that were as prominent back then as they are haunting now.

7. Take Shelter (Dir. Jeff Nichols)

A family in apocalyptic turmoil in Nichols' second film.

Jeff Nichols’ Shotgun Stories was an observant and well-written story about three brothers in confrontation with another family in a small town; but his latest, Take Shelter, really puts his name on the indie map. Starring Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain as a couple dealing with the husband’s mental instability and visions of the end of the world, Nichols’ second feature is simultaneously terrifying and moving. It brings the horrifically unimaginable into the world of the working class yet doesn’t forget to ground the horror in human emotion. Shannon and Chastain are remarkable, and Nichols’ film is one to watch over and over again to feel its incredible power and witness the solid work of a new writer-director.

7. Drive (Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn)

Ryan Gosling and Carey Mulligan in Refn's pulse-pounder.

Drive is excellent. I think we all know that by now. But the more time spent after seeing it, the more I really admire its reminder that a genre film can be an art film. I’m not saying those two are always synonymous but when they do intersect, the result can be mesmerizing (and this is the first of two films on my list that achieves this). Ryan Gosling’s powerfully stoic performance as the nameless lead is haunting, as is the brilliantly seedy Albert Brooks in an overlooked role as the mob boss after him. Tense action, heartbreaking romance, and enough classic filmmaking techniques to fill a textbook–Drive has it all. But what it has that most other films don’t is an unusual presence that is cerebral, ominous and nostalgic, something that doesn’t come around too often.

5. Martha Marcy May Marlene (Dir. Sean Durkin)

Elizabeth Olsen is captivating in the best thriller of the year.

A smash at last year’s Sundance Film Festival, Martha Marcy May Marlene is much more than an indie breakout-hit. It’s astonishing–the acting, writing, editing, and cinematography are supreme–and welcomes a new voice in director Sean Durkin. Elizabeth Olsen gives an electric performance as the title character, a young woman who escapes a cultish commune to live with her older sister, and seamlessly navigates the mystery and damage of her role. But what Durkin’s film excels is crafting a story so magnetic and alluring that you can’t and won’t forget what you’ve seen on screen for days.

4. Young Adult (Dir. Jason Reitman)

Charlize Theron gives the best performance of the year in Reitman's latest.

Why should we care about Mavis Gary? She’s manipulative, selfish, pretentious, and, really, a grating bitch. Why should audiences care about someone so unlikable? It’s a challenge, but what makes Young Adult such a special case is another question: when was the last time a film like this was made? We stick with Mavis and are drawn into her tumultuous story about returning to her hometown to win over an ex-beau who is now married (Patrick Wilson) no matter what we think of the character, and that’s a testament to Diablo Cody’s mature and tremendous script that’s full of insights and emotion without a pinch of sentimentality or mercy. Jason Reitman guides the story along a tight rope between critical and cautionary with a precise tone, while Charlize Theron gives the best performance of the year as she perfects Mavis’ misguided confidence, warped mentality, and fragile vulnerability down to the last detail. This is the character study of the year.

3. We Need to Talk About Kevin (Dir. Lynne Ramsay)

Tilda Swinton in Lynne Ramsay's bold and relentless psychodrama.

Lynne Ramsay’s experimental, visceral, and piercing horror film is one of the genre’s best entries in years. Tilda Swinton leads an effortlessly strong cast as Eva, a mother with an unwanted son who commits an unfathomably evil act that pits her to question her own responsibility. The way the movie seamlessly conveys her psychological trauma and development is haunting and unlike anything that’s been on screen in years. The editing avoids linearity in favor of a much more character-driven, thematic narrative that is ultimately more terrifying and rich for audiences. I hadn’t seen any of Ramsay’s previous films, but Kevin rapidly made me check them out. Everything from the stark color palette, the evocative cinematography, and, especially, the powerful and wrenching performance from Tilda Swinton, make this one of the best films of the year that will only gain more attention and admiration.


2. Bridesmaids (Dir. Paul Feig)

Hands down, the funniest and most engaging comedy in years.

My favorite movie from the first half of the year, Bridesmaids stuck with me well through the fall and winter. Starring Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph as two best friends whose bond is challenged by wedding craze, the film features nothing that’s recycled, familiar, or easy. It’s honest, it’s well-written, and it’s just so damn funny. The screenplay is full of real insight, wit, and, especially, emotion surrounding female friendships and relationships in general. The ensemble is uniformly perfect (with special mention to the hilarious supporting turns from Melissa McCathy and Wendi Mclendon-Covey). But, most of all, the story is so universal without one ounce of predictability, so funny without being cheap, and moving without being sappy. It’s everything a perfect comedy should be, and there’s no way in hell anyone will stop me from occasionally quoting it from time to time. Look away, Mrs. Iglesias.

1. Melancholia (Dir. Lars von Trier)

The best film of 2011.

I’m admittedly a big fan of Lars von Trier. His defiance against film critics and enthusiasts, evident and alive in Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, and especially Antichrist, is frustratingly pretentious to some but entertaining and provocative to others, such as myself. I find his films to be full of dense thematic ground and unique ideas, but have always seen the effort to create controversy and uproar in his films. That’s what being a divisive filmmaker is all about, anyways. Yet with Melancholia, there was something new. It avoided audience expectations and told a story so profound, unsettling, and beautiful without any tricks. It’s dark and intriguing, but not in the sense of his past films. There’s a purity here, an honesty that reaches the audiences more jarringly and emotionally than any of his past efforts that were based in sole provocation. He’s finally open to audiences without slamming others and just selecting a few niches, for Melancholia is a sweeping study of emotional instability and yearning that lets the filmmaker thrive on much more than a reputation. I don’t feel a ‘guilty pleasure’ tone when watching it; instead, I’m simply enthralled. Technically perfect, the acting is outstanding (Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg give their career bests), the screenplay is insightful and vivid, and the overall film is unsettling and resonant. It successfully and powerfully touches on and explores each key emotion that all films set out to elicit–humor, fear, pathos, hope. I can’t think of a better compliment to give a film. It’s always nice to see one of your favorite directors step up their game when you thought they had already hit their prime.

Charlize Theron is a storm of bitchiness to seriously be reckoned with in Jason Reitman's fourth, and most nuanced, film.

Young Adult–Like almost the rest of the country, I was quite taken by Jason Reitman’s last film, Up in the Air. I thought it was a mature, provocative movie that perfectly tapped into the zeitgeist of the recession and beautifully cinematized the universal message of connection. I thought that Reitman would have peaked with his 2009 film, given that his past two efforts (Thank You For Smoking and Juno) were slighter efforts. Well, I was wrong. Young Adult is a film that’s so uncomfortably and scathingly wise and insightful that it completely reveals how unprepared I was (and am) for what Reitman and Cody have in store for the future of American cinema. Charlize Theron plays Mavis Gary, a divorced, boozy, and directionless ‘author’ of young adult fiction who discovers that her high school boyfriend (Patrick Wilson, suitably boyish and surfaced in a plot-driving role) is married with a baby–and, naturally, goes back to her hometown to win him back. What ensues is 93 minutes of terrific character studies and casual but enveloping story-telling that carries Mavis from stalking her ex-hubby to becoming involved with a former classmate (Patton Oswalt) who has also had high school on his mind. Young Adult is so uncommonly intriguing because of its screenplay that’s full of wit, tragedy, and incidents that are so human. Cody has crafted a character (it’s difficult to call her a protagonist given her abrasive nature) who is so familiar yet so original at the same time; someone who embodies all the anxieties and detriments of growing up while also displaying the hope and potential associated with maturity. It’s a complex character that calls for a complex performance, and Theron more than delivers. She nails the role scene-by-scene, line-by-line. She conjures up a wrath of bitchiness in one look, and within seconds she can portray the heartbreak and vulnerability of someone who’s been hurt. It’s a wonderful, authentic performance that deserves to be recognized. Oswalt, too, is compelling as a former classmate of Mavis’ who calls her out on her misbehavior yet cannot come to recognize the flaws in his own negative perception of the world. Reitman’s direction is assured, solid, and exciting; he tells Mavis’ story without any judgment or mockery, but rather lets it unfold organically, subtly, and emotionally. Young Adult can be bleak, but it’s a portrait of a broken person unlike any I’ve seen in recent years. A

Here’s the trailer:

Tilda Swinton and John C. Reilly in Ramsay's harrowing horror story.

We Need To Talk About Kevin–Certain expectations seem to come with stories that center taboo or controversial subjects like high-school massacres. Will it be a manipulative and probing sob-fest? Or will it be an independent study in high school life, like Gus Van Sant’s Elephant? I was prepared for one or the other when I first heard of this film, but Lynne Ramsay has constructed a bold, terrifying psychological horror film that is both original and full of terrific genre elements. Tilda Swinton is Eva, a mother who is coping with the aftermath of a brutal school shooting executed by her complexly satanic son, Kevin (Ezra Miller). She reflects on what her life was like before when she was married to kind and easy-going Franklin (John C. Reilly) and had another child, a daughter, while the four of them moved from their life in New York City to Connecticut while they slowly became a dysfunctional family. This is a film about the rarely explored link between guilt and memory, and what it means to remember what’s heart-warming and what’s also corrosive. Ramsay’s directorial style is anything but conventional, with a visual palette reminiscent of early Scorsese and an editing style as abstract and anti-linear as Terrence Malick (not to mention an outstandingly ironic taste in music). But comparisons aside, Ramsay is a bold and original filmmaker whose work stands by and for itself as taut, terrific independent cinema. She guides us through Eva’s troubled psyche and Kevin’s demonic existence with striking imagery and emotional resonance. The acting is consistently stellar–John C. Reilly is perfectly cast as the caring yet slightly submissive father who gives the film a sense of heart, while Ezra Miller is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum as he flawlessly embodies a heinous individual with no sense of purpose other than pure chaos. Yet the performance of the film (and quite possibly the year) belongs to Tilda Swinton, who vitalizes Eva with guilt, pain, love, hope, and, ultimately, understanding. Her ability to convey the most complex of emotions with a single look (evident in nearly every scene) is just one of the many reasons why she’s one of the best actresses in film today. We Need To Talk About Kevin is brutal, but it’s a audaciously made film that’s about as singular and resonant as any film I’ve seen this year. A

Here’s the trailer: