No bull, no chaser, just the best films of the aughts.

Who’d a-thunk it? We’ve hit the end of the first decade of the new millennium! To be honest, I had it in my head that the end of the decade would be at the close of 2010, not 2009. However, after seeing list after list of the best films of the decade from everyone from the New York Times, Empire Magazine, and a pretty decent list from Paste Magazine, I decided that it would not be the proper finish to the decennium without my very own contribution to this endless stream of lists.

I’m going to do these in alphabetical order, because I really have a problem with ranking terrific films as being “better” or “worse” than each other. For my money, a great movie is just that: a great movie.

Incipit . . .

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days
Written and directed by Cristian Mungiu
--The objectivity that Mungiu brings to the haunting story of two young women trying to arrange an illegal abortion in Communist Romania provides for a pitch perfect look into the difficulty of life in Eastern Europe and the horror of what these women and others like them went through in situations like this. This film is wonderfully directed, with a combination of both handheld work and beautiful, classically constructed shots. This is taut, gripping stuff.

Adaptation
Written by Charlie Kaufman, directed by Spike Jonze
--Charlie Kaufman took his own struggle to adapt Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief and wrote a screenplay that is the dramatization of that struggle to write the screenplay of the movie that ends up on the screen. If it sounds confusing, watch the film. You’ll understand exactly what I mean. Adaptation is staggering proof that as screenwriters go, there are people who write movies, and then there’s Charlie Kaufman.

A.I. Artificial Intelligence
Written for the screen by Ian Watson & Steven Spielberg, directed by Steven Spielberg
--A.I. Artificial Intelligence is widely regarded as the film Stanley Kubrick might have directed. The futuristic re-telling of the Pinnochio story works wonderfully as visual spectacle and also forms an undeniable emotional connection. Kubrick’s ending, often mistakenly attributed to Spielberg, gives him the last laugh on those who think they can figure him out. If you think David’s story ends happily, I encourage you to take a closer look. You might just be surprised.

Casino Royale
Written for the screen by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, & Paul Haggis, directed by Martin Campbell
--As an action film, Casino Royale succeeds on every front. If I had a quarter for every time I thought “They’re NOT!” only to be proved wrong, I would be a few dollars richer after watching the film. Daniel Craig is wonderful as 007 and brings a rough-edged quality to Bond’s signature devil-may-care approach to his job and his life. Just when I thought the film had reached its zenith, I was thrown back in my seat, shocked to find a beating heart present amongst the gunshots, explosions, and shaken martinis.

City of God
Written for the screen by Paulo Lins & Bráulio Mantovani, directed by Fernando Meirelles & Kátia Lund
--Many modern directors use all kinds of tricks to heighten the action on screen, including handheld cameras, quick cuts, time-lapse sequences, slow-motion, and speeding things up. While Meirelles and Lund use all of these tricks, the way they use them is wonderfully distinctive. Instead of distracting the viewer with gimmick after gimmick, their extensive use of these visual flourishes is wonderfully naturalistic and actually achieves the lofty goal that those who use them rarely reach: intensifying the visual experience of the film. City of God is one of the best-directed films I’ve ever seen.

The Constant Gardener
Written for the screen by Jeffrey Caine, directed by Fernando Meirelles
--This a throwback to an older version of the thriller, when the characters were what drove the story, instead of the action-packed moments designed to keep you on the edge of your seat. Ralph Fiennes is outstanding as a bureaucrat in Africa trying to uncover the conspiracy behind the murder of his wife. With wonderful direction from Meirelles, The Constant Gardener lingers in your mind after it’s over. Name another thriller that does THAT.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
Screenplay by Wang Hui Ling, James Schamus, & Tsai Kuo Jung, directed by Ang Lee
--Nowadays, hyper-kinetic fight scenes are the norm, but back in 2000, this stuff was breathtakingly new. Ang Lee’s take on the wuxia film blew my teenage mind. Not only do the fight scenes achieve a sense of visual poetry, but the love stories are incredibly poignant and the ending unforgettable. Films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon are why I love the movies.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Written for the screen by Charlie Kaufman, Michel Gondry, & Pierre Bismuth, directed by Michel Gondry
--After Adaptation, the fact that this film is a cinematic mind trip is no surprise. The fact that it’s that emotionally compelling is. What’s even more shocking is the grace and poise that Jim Carrey brings to his performance as Joel, a man trying to have his ex-girlfriend erased from his memory. As it turns out, Ace Ventura can REALLY act. As for Kaufman, the literal depiction of the whirl of thoughts, feelings, and memories taking place in Joel’s mind is something that only he could do, and do this well.

Finding Nemo
Written by Andrew Stanton, Bob Peterson, & David Reynolds, directed by Andrew Stanton & Lee Unkrich
--I dare you to try to watch Finding Nemo without once cracking a smile. It can’t be done. The film is stunningly animated, wonderfully funny, and beautifully tender. The voice cast is outstanding, with particular credit going to Ellen DeGeneres’ hilarious work as Dory. In Pixar’s long line of diamonds, Finding Nemo is the crown jewel.

Gosford Park
Written by Julian Fellowes, directed by Robert Altman
--Gosford Park is a perfect addition to Altman’s storied tradition of taking a genre story and turning it on its ear. It starts as a whodunit and ends as a whydunit by using the familiar conventions of the Agatha Christie-style mystery to illuminate the socially tense delicate balance between the aristocrats visiting a country house and the servants serving their every whim. The first time you watch Gosford Park, you’re figuring out what the puzzle looks like. Every other time after that, you’re figuring out how the pieces fit together. This film fascinates like few ever do.

The Lord of the Rings
Written for the screen by Phillipa Boyens, Fran Walsh, Peter Jackson, & Stephen Sinclair, directed by Peter Jackson
--Peter Jackson’s project was one of the most ambitious in the history of cinema; that he succeeded so well is nothing short of a movie miracle. On their own they have their ups and downs, with The Return of the King the best film of the trilogy, but seen together? Together, The Lord of the Rings is one of the best literary adaptations, fantasy films, and trilogies ever made. Lumping three films into one slot is cheating, and I know it. They were clearly meant to be seen as one (albeit HUGE) film anyway.

La Vie En Rose
Written by Isabelle Sobelman & Olivier Dahan, directed by Olivier Dahan
--Biopics, such as they are, are nothing new. Even though it contains many of the biopic’s conventions, La Vie En Rose is so much more than that. If some actors are born to play certain roles, Marion Cotillard was born to play Edith Piaf. She’s simply radiant. The masterful final act is one of beauty, grace, and heartbreak.

Letters From Iwo Jima
Screenplay by Iris Yamashita, directed by Clint Eastwood
--I’ve seen a ton of films about war, but few of them have shaken me to the depths that this one did. Letters From Iwo Jima refuses to accept the traditional definitions of “good guy” and “bad guy.” For the first time, I felt that I truly saw those who the history books always painted were evil. I looked at their faces, and realized that they weren’t so different from my own. In a year when Eastwood released two films about the battle of Iwo Jima, this film is far-and-away the superior effort. A masterpiece from an American master.

Lost In Translation
Written and directed by Sofia Coppola
--Lost In Translation is one of those modest little films that sets out to tell a story that appears simple and straightforward. Bill Murray is the middle-aged man in crisis. Scarlett Johansson is the young woman in limbo. The impact of their encounter, set against a background of Tokyo, insomnia, and late nights, is too wonderful for me to even think of spoiling for you. Thoughtful, funny, and poignant, Sofia Coppola’s little film is one that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Million Dollar Baby
Written for the screen by Paul Haggis, directed by Clint Eastwood
--Hilary Swank’s performance as an aspiring boxer is one of the single greatest pieces of acting I’ve ever seen. Morgan Freeman is excellent. Clint Eastwood is great in front of the camera, and even better behind it. I don’t like choosing “favorites,” but this film would be on the shortlist of my all-time favorite movies. Some films have the power to change the viewer. Million Dollar Baby changed me.

Moulin Rouge!
Written by Baz Luhrmann & Craig Pearce, directed by Baz Luhrmann
--Exhilaration! Lightning fast direction. Head-spinning songs. Vibrant colors. Elaborate production numbers. “They wouldn’t do THAT!” This is crazy! “Oh, yes they WOULD!” The musical is back and its name is Moulin Rouge!

Mulholland Dr.
Written and directed by David Lynch
--In his way, David Lynch has been the Boo Radley of American film for years. You don’t really know what he’s doing, but you sure are curious to find out. Mulholland Dr. is a hypnotic film like few modern films are. Lynch found the perfect balance between his trademark dreamy surrealism and the barest glimpse of narrative consistency. I think Mulholland Dr. actually makes perfect sense if it’s approached a certain way. . . but good luck with that. You may not have a clue what’s going on, but I dare you to try and stop watching.

Munich
Screenplay by Tony Kushner & Eric Roth, directed by Steven Spielberg
--When Munich was released in 2005, it was alternately decried in certain Israeli circles as being pro-Palestinian and in certain Palestinian circles as being pro-Israeli. The heartbreaking truth of the film is a deftly nuanced look at the history of the conflict between two great cultures that is alternately thrilling and horrifying. The performances are strong, the ending penetrating, and the final shot unforgettable. Munich is a criminally overlooked gem.

No Country For Old Men
Written for the screen and directed by Joel & Ethan Coen
--From beginning to end, No Country For Old Men is a textbook example on how to make a proper film. The writing is terrific, the direction is nearly flawless, and the cast, particularly Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, Kelly Macdonald and a chilling Javier Bardem, is excellent. This is one of the best films the Coen brothers have ever made. While they’ve made a career out of putting strange characters in even stranger situations, here, Joel and Ethan Coen do the strangest thing of all. They play it straight.

Once
Written and directed by John Carney
--The mere existence of Once is enough to restore a person’s belief in the possibility of the miraculous. The film was shot for a paltry $160,000 over 17 days, with two leads whose combined acting experience was one small part in a 1991 movie. In almost any other situation, all of those factors could have been a recipe for disaster or, at the best, mediocrity. That’s what makes the beauty of Once so astounding. It’s a musical without artificiality, a romance without clichés, and a coming-of-age story without platitudes. When people talk about movie magic, this is what they’re talking about.

Shrek
Screenplay by Ted Elliott, Terry Rossio, Joe Stillman, & Roger S. H. Schulman, directed by Andrew Adamson & Vicky Jenson
--For all of the talk of the brilliance of Pixar, if I had to choose my out-and-out favorite computer-animated film, I might just give the nod to a little movie about an ogre and a talking donkey. Shrek’s ability to thoroughly deconstruct the fairy tale while simultaneously re-affirming its most basic principles is nothing short of genius at work.

Spider-Man 2
Written for the screen by Alvin Sargent, Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, & Michael Chabon, directed by Sam Raimi
--In most superhero movies, the obligatory “regular guy” stuff is what you have to sit through until the hero emerges on screen to jump, fly, and smash his way to victory. That’s what sets Spider-Man 2 apart. The focus is squarely on the trials and tribulations of Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. As a result, the costume never overshadows the character. In many ways, the real world sequences with Peter are more interesting than Spidey’s action setpieces. Note-for-note, Spider-Man 2 is the finest superhero film I have ever seen.

There Will Be Blood
Written for the screen and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
--Anyone who watches a lot of movies gets used to certain rhythms, conventions, and stylistic tendencies that can point the way to where the film is headed. There Will Be Blood is something wondrous and rare: a truly original, honest-to-god, full-blooded, living breathing MOVIE. The performances are perfect. The music is perfect. The direction is almost flawless. Brooding and raging his way across the screen, Daniel Day-Lewis deserves a place in the pantheon usually reserved for actors like Brando. Simply put, this is what you call a masterpiece.

Traffic
Screenplay by Stephen Gaghan, directed by Steven Soderbergh
--Traffic serves as an unflinching look at the world of those who buy, sell, and fight against illegal drugs. Despite juggling a number of stories, characters, and locations simultaneously, Soderbergh (who also served as the film’s cinematographer) always keeps the viewer grounded visually as to exactly where the action on screen is taking place and what’s going on. Before hyperlink cinema became all the rage, Traffic did it first, and in some cases, much, much better.

United 93
Written and directed by Paul Greengrass
--The story of the terrorist attacks of 2001 is not a story that is easy to re-visit, because, unlike many other historical films, we were there and we know how it was. When I first heard about this project, I immediately thought that 5 years didn’t seem like enough time to wait to make the film. I was wrong. The screenplay is completely respectful of those who died on board United Flight 93, and Greengrass’ signature handheld style has never been more effective. As the film neared its conclusion, I reached over and took the hand of the person I was with. Even though a part of me wanted so badly to look away, I couldn’t. United 93 is essential cinema.

Finis.

A Window and a Magnifying Glass

I’ve never been a terribly voracious carnivore, but the best way that I think I can explain what the movies mean to me is to bring up steak. Imagine for a moment that you are a person who loves the stuff. You’d probably have all of your favorite restaurants all lined up in your mind, ranked from best to worst or worst to best, based on the quality of the steak. But the thing that would probably stick out in your mind was the one steak that stood out above the rest; the one steak that started this great love affair. I bet you’d know exactly where it was and how wonderful it tasted. In fact, I bet that every other time you’d go out to eat, that one steak would be in the back of your mind, poking at you. Sure, you might go to Carl’s Jr. to enjoy a hamburger now and then, but you’d know that the strangely named “Six Dollar Burger” didn’t even compare to “the one.” Even if you went to an upscale restaurant with excellent cuisine, while you might enjoy the food, that steak would still be in your thoughts. Then, just when you’d just about began to give up hope that you’d ever have one that good again, you go out and VOILA! Brought to you on a plate that might as well have come borne on the wings of an angel comes another that you’ll remember for a long time, maybe forever.

That is how I feel about the movies. “The one” directly correlates to the films that have left such an imprint on me that I consider the time when I watched them to be a life-altering event. I have often been told that my love of the cinema is misplaced and that the devotion that I bring to the films I love (and the films I hope to love) would be better placed elsewhere. People have said things to me like “it’s only a movie” and “there’s more to life than movies.” By their own statements, they have implied that the type of things that they love and value are somehow inherently more important than the one thing that has become the great passion of my life. I disagree. While I cannot dispute that there is more to life than thinking about, talking about, and watching films, I find it troublesome that these other people feel a need to discredit my connection with the cinema because they do not understand it. At the end of the day, I have decided that I am truly a very fortunate person to have found something that I have connected with on such a personal level. If those individuals who don’t understand have never felt such a passion for something in their own lives, then I sincerely feel sorry for them.

I’ve been blessed with many “steaks” in my life, some of which I have spoken with you about here. I would like to talk about the one that is most prominent in my memory and left the deepest impression.

It was January 7, 2005. My sister and I went to a 1:15 showing at the Block of Orange in Orange, CA. We bought our tickets at 1:00 and entered one of the multiplex’s larger theaters, which was mostly empty, due to the time and the fact that the movie was in limited release. The film was Million Dollar Baby. I sat there in my seat for 2 hours and 12 minutes, and when I left, I was a different person. I don’t think it was something that I really realized at first. My sister and I, who normally don’t have any trouble finding things to talk about, drove the 15 minutes it took to get home in relative silence. The rest of my day was spent thinking about the film. I literally could not take my mind off of it. Even when I tried to think about something else, I just couldn’t do it. The film seemed to be demanding my attention, even though it had been over for hours.

Million Dollar Baby is the story of three people whose lives come together in a boxing gym. Frankie (Clint Eastwood) owns the facility and manages boxers that he deems worthy, and Scrap (Morgan Freeman) serves as the gym’s janitor. Maggie (Hilary Swank) comes to the gym and begins training in the hopes that Frankie will help her become a professional fighter. Frankie reluctantly agrees and the two begin working their way toward a title fight.

What makes this film a tricky one is that, for much of its duration, it’s a conventional boxing picture, albeit a very good one at that. Then, around the midpoint, everything changes. Everything. Million Dollar Baby becomes not only a look at the prices one must pay to get to the top, but also becomes a meditation on the meaning of friendship, loyalty, and what happens when someone is forced to give up a dream. I don’t feel that I am justified in going into detail about exactly what takes place in the film, despite the fact that it’s been out for several years. A part of me seems to rebel against that, due to having had a number of films spoiled for me in that way. However, what I will say is that the film shook me to my shoes, so to speak. It took a very complex issue that, to that point, I had very brusquely presumed that I knew my feelings on and turned it upside down. For the first time, I was forced to truly consider it and question my old assumptions. Easy answers weren’t enough. They couldn’t be. Somehow, Frankie, Maggie, and Scrap didn’t deserve that. For the first time, I became aware that some questions cannot be answered. Some decisions are too terrible to be justified, whether the decision is to do something or not to do something. Either way, with some things in life, perhaps with too many things, someone loses.

I think that my experience watching Million Dollar Baby makes a larger point about what I love about the movies. When I watch a film, I am not interested in merely being entertained, although I hope to enjoy the films that I watch. What I want is a window and a magnifying glass. The window is an opening into the life of another person or group of people. This person might be a lot like me, or we might have nothing in common. The magnifying glass is that chance to do the single most important thing that one person can do for another. It gives me the chance to understand. It is not the enjoyment of seeing beautiful people in exotic locations or seeing people escape dangerous situations with explosions going off all around that entices me. It is that chance to understand that makes going to the movies so special for me. The other stuff may be enough for some people, but not for me.

That’s why I refuse to watch some films. Some friends of mine present the idea that I need to broaden my horizons and watch more movies. However, I remind you of that steak I mentioned earlier. That’s what I’m after, not the cheap imitations. Sure, I might go get “fast food” sometimes by going to see a film that’s just trying to be funny, entertaining, and harmless, but that steak is always in the back of my mind. In fact, I think it’s in the back of my mind every single time I watch a new film. I’m always hopeful that whatever film I’m watching will be another life-changing moment. With high hopes like that, I’m usually disappointed, because those moments are few and far between. Of course, I know that certain films won’t be able to meet those standards, but I always hold out that hope.

4 years later, Million Dollar Baby is still one of the greatest films I’ve ever seen. Since that overcast January afternoon, I’ve seen a few films that have stopped me in my tracks, but those that have impacted me like Million Dollar Baby are fewer still. I believe that that connection is the highest aim and goal of cinema, and that’s why I go to the movies.

Call the doctor, 'cause my jaw hit the floor . . .

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has always had a fiercely independent streak. At the end of the day, it doesn't always matter what success a film's had at the Guild awards or at the Golden Globes. If the Academy likes it, it's in. If not, too bad.

I actually considered getting up to see the nominations this morning. Then, I saw that they were going to be at 5:30 AM. Like that's going to happen. Besides, I don't have cable, so that ruled it out anyway.

The nominations have a TON of things missing, and I'm really surprised that they snubbed some of the films and performances that they did. Here we go . . .

• Not having Clint Eastwood in the Best Actor category is a travesty. He could have WON this award for his performance in Gran Torino. I have never seen him better, and to see him snubbed was not something that I expected, especially considering the fact that he's usually an Academy favorite.


• The Dark Knight gets shut out in the Best Picture race, while The Reader gets in? I have mixed feelings about this, as I like both films. I can take solace in the fact that I called The Reader as my #1 dark horse for the #5 slot. Still, while it's not the single greatest movie made this decade, as some would have you believe, I really thought that the Academy would recognize The Dark Knight.


• What might actually be the biggest surprise is NO SALLY HAWKINS in the Best Actress category!!!!!! She's gotten so much acclaim for her performance in Happy-Go-Lucky, and I think it's ridiculous to think that she missed out on this. I thought with her Globe win that she'd be in for sure, and I even thought that she'd be a major contender.


• Kate Winslet finally ended up in the right category for The Reader, but it's still surprising. That category (Best Actress) is going to be a slugfest this year. In the end, I'm really ok with her not having been nominated for Revolutionary Road, as she gave a better performance in The Reader, which was a MUCH better film.


• Michael Shannon squeeked in in the Supporting Actor category for his role in Revolutionary Road but Leonardo DiCaprio gets shut out in the Best Actor category? I don't get it. Shannon was annoying, gimmicky, and overstated, while DiCaprio created a very complex character. He deserved better.


• No Vicky Cristina Barcelona in the Best Original Screenplay category? You think Woody Allen just MIGHT have deserved the slot that went to WALL-E?


• No Bruce Springsteen in the Best Original Song category? The Academy can nominate up to 5 songs, and they only come up with 3? Unbelievable.


• Slumdog Millionaire gets 10 nominations. 10? Really? You'll probably hear a lot more from me in the future on this, but, while it's a really good film, I don't think all this hoopla is entirely warranted.

Stay tuned to the site over the next several weeks. We'll keep you posted on any breaking developments.

Oh, I've got a light . . .

Clint Eastwood is a god among men, man among boys, and, at 78, could still kick just about anyone's butt in 10 seconds flat. Ask most movie buffs who holds the title of greatest living American filmmaker, and most would pick Martin Scorsese. Since the passing of Robert Altman, it's hard to argue with that choice. However, I think Clint's on the shortlist, and, furthermore, might just be knocking on the door.

For the first time since 2004's Million Dollar Baby, Clint found a project he believed in enough to star in it. Previously, he'd said that he was done with acting and even turned down the lead in In the Valley of Elah, a role that Paul Haggis had written especially for him. (not to worry, Haggis had one heck of a backup plan) I went into Gran Torino with mid-level expectations, and came out blown away.

Clint is a rare breed of filmmaker and one that I think deserves to be considered an auteur. This distinction is one that is normally afforded a filmmaker with a well-defined visual and thematic style whose films are clearly recognizable as "theirs." That said, Clint Eastwood is probably not the first person who comes to mind when thinking about who is or isn't an auteur. From a visual standpoint, Clint's films are very naturalistic. I get the feeling that he could care less about impressing the audience with a nifty shot or camera trick. Instead, his focus is always on serving the story, which, I'd argue, is exactly where it should be. It's on these grounds that I really feel that he deserves the "auteur" label. In most cases, his films are small in scope in that they deal with only a few characters who are usually ordinary people. The real riches are in the emotional landscape he chooses to explore. I challenge you to find a Clint Eastwood film that doesn't feel like a Clint Eastwood film.

Gran Torino is no exception. I went into the film not expecting a great movie, and was completely surprised. I'd been interested in seeing it since seeing the first trailer, but felt that the material seemed formulaic and might come across on the corny side. My initial assumptions have some grounds, but, in large part, Gran Torino's strengths wipe out its weaknesses.

The film's single greatest strength is the performance of Clint Eastwood. I think he deserves serious consideration for an Academy Award nomination. It's one of the finer performances I've ever seen him give and one of the year's best. One of the things I like most about the film is the way it doesn't sugarcoat Walt Kowalski, the main character. He's a racist, pure and simple, and, to be honest, isn't a big fan of a lot of white folks either. It's refreshing to find a character like Walt who doesn't get sanitized and made politically correct. Then, when his perspective starts to shift, the changes are natural and feel as though they've been earned. This is unique, because a lot of films err in this area by trying for certain types of character development without building the character enough to sustain those changes. As a result, the changes feel false and clumsily tacked on. A lot of filmmakers would do well to watch this film and take notes . . .

Another of Clint's trademarks comes into play in Gran Torino to great effect: the sucker punch. He's a master of lulling the viewer into thinking that he/she's watching a certain type of film, creating a false sense of security, and then blindsiding him/her with a sudden shift in tone and thematic content. I wouldn't spoil it for the world, but there's a moment in Gran Torino that will almost take your breath away. It's perfectly set up by the film's humor, one of its unexpected strengths. I spent the first hour and a half laughing and enjoying myself (and enjoying my friend's reactions to Walt's behavior. Priceless.) and then after that moment occurs, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore and the stakes had just gotten monumentally higher.

As most people go through life, they mark different time periods by certain occasions. I've almost always marked my years by movies and I'd have to say that Clint Eastwood's made for some oustanding moments in my cinematic life. With Letters From Iwo Jima, I knew I'd seen one of the greatest films about war that I'd ever seen. With Million Dollar Baby, I knew my life had been changed by one of the greatest films I'd ever seen. Gran Torino doesn't quite get as high up, but I wouldn't worry, 'cause it gets a distinction of its own. It's just one of the year's best films.