Films of 2011 Top Ten - 10-1

And now, the end is here. And so I face the final curtain. On the final day of 2011 when everybody’s either in a reflective, nostalgic mood or angrily cynical about everyone else being in a reflective, nostalgic mood, I count down my ten favourite films I saw this year. Just a reminding qualifier: these are not films that came out this year. In fact, of the films that came out this year or late last year, we will finish them off very quickly, as I head into...

#10. The King’s Speech (2010, Tom Hooper)

So I can reveal that my favourite film that came out this year - be it a hangover release from a 2010 production that, as usual, we received in theatres months and months after the rest of the world, or a prelude to films that will actually come out here in 2012 but that I managed to see on a totally legitimate online streaming site – was The King’s Speech. To be a bit unfair to the film, it is very typical Oscars bait, characteristic of so many prestige productions of the last twenty years, but in its defence, it is the first truly great example of Oscars bait in a good, long while. Colin Firth (masculine swoon) puts in a magnificent performance as the proud but nervously stammering George VI, while Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter are excellent in support. Tom Hooper directs with immense flair, blending pathos and comedy to create an enthralling story that is both a political narrative and very personal drama. Overall I found it a very uplifting, humanist take on a key figure of the twentieth century, and it richly deserved all the accolades and awards it won.

#9. The Dark Knight (2008, Christopher Nolan)

I think I gave a spoiler about five posts ago that this film was coming up at some point, and while I hate to be a predictable film buff who raves about how brilliant this film is... well, shit off, it’s a masterpiece. I’m not a fan of comic book movies on principle, but I think this is as close as we will ever come to being able to disengage the comic book superhero aspect from the story. The rich ensemble cast is regathered, although Katie Holmes inexplicably morphs into Maggie Gyllenhaal (to everyone’s benefit), and Aaron Eckhart is added along with the late and totally great Heath Ledger, whose performance as the Joker set a new benchmark for creepy villainy. Earlier I said that Jack Nicholson didn’t float my boat in the same role, almost because there was something self-conscious about that that led to disbelief. Ledger here puts in such an idiosyncratic portrayal that remains so deplorable and mysterious that it will continue to haunt and influence this, and other franchises like it. Again, though, the real master at work here is Nolan who has exquisitely carved out a dark morality tale that probes our notions of good and evil, and becomes so much more than just a comic book film.

#8. Oldboy (Oldeuboi, 2003, Chan-wook Park)

Apparently South Korea is the new powerhouse of classy world cinema, although this film is the only one of their recent spree of form that I’ve managed to catch. This highly stylised, violent and captivating film harks back to ancient traditions of revenge tragedy, punctuated with ultra-modern frenetic editing and an ominous aesthetic of despair. Despite its far-fetched premise – man is imprisoned for fifteen years in a small room for no reason and just as suddenly let out into the world – the film manages to twist and contort the continuum of past, present and future into weird, unexpected tangles, but comes out the other end with a coherence that only drives home the impact of the story. Min-sik Choi is spellbinding, brooding and menacing in the lead role, and the immense expressiveness of his face is a key part of Park’s overall aesthetic. At times the film seems jumpy and off-putting, but the huge cathartic payoff at the film’s climax makes it all worthwhile. Crazy film, but crazy good.

#7. City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin)

From extravagant revenge tragedy to slapstick-based comedy, City Lights nevertheless manages to fulfil an equal spot in the far-fetched premise stakes: Chaplin’s ubiquitous tramp is befriended by an eccentric rich drunk who recognises him when intoxicated but forgets him each morning as he sobers up. Meanwhile the tramp becomes besotted with a beautiful blind flower girl and endeavours to help her in any way he can. What makes this film such a delight is, firstly, unlike a lot of silent film, it is less a set of Vaudevillian sketches, and while it has some classic moments, it just follows a straight path of story and the comedy, physical and otherwise, is all in service of the sweet romantic plot. It’s probably the most accessible of Chaplin’s films to modern audiences, not just because it is genuinely funny, but because the timeless love story is both relatable and very touching.

#6. Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949, Robert Hamer)

This dark comedy masterpiece probably provided the most laughs of any film I saw this year. Combining a withering British wit with an engaging revenge story, it tells the story of the bitter, disinherited aristocrat Louis Mazzini, who vows on his mother’s death to regain his rightful place in nobility. How? Why, of course, by murdering all those who stand between him and the D’Ascoyne inheritance. If, like me, you think of Sir Alec Guinness as Obi-wan Kenobi who may or may not have already been an established British star of stage and screen, you simply must watch this. Guinness is gifted a chameleonic role as all the members of the D’Ascoyne family and the spirit and charisma he injects into each one is a treat to watch. Dennis Price is beautifully sardonic as the coldly plotting Mazzini, and there is a superbly dry, mannered British quality both to his role as narrator and to the way he executes his master scheme. I did have one quibble with the ending but I’m happy to shrug it off; this is a clever, genuinely hilarious film.

#5. Roman Holiday (1953, William Wyler)

So from the darkly comic to the romantically comic. This film probably has the spot it does through our old friend the expectations. That’s not to say I was anticipating my not enjoying this film, but rather that it manages to keep so many tricks up its sleeve, and deftly avoids all the clichés as it navigates through otherwise familiar territory. Audrey Hepburn is sweet and pretty as Princess Ann who decides on a whim to escape the shackles of her royal protocols and go on a bit of bender in Rome. While there she meets down-on-his-luck journalist Joe Bradley – the very dapper Gregory Peck – who with his garrulous photographer buddy soon realises what a story he has on his hands. For the most part, the story follows an amusing arc of hijinks that is ultimately a bit pedestrian, but when we think we know where it’s heading, it pulls out its trump card and reveals itself to be very sophisticated in its narrative structure. Without giving too much away, the moment when Joe reveals his true identity to the Princess is one of the most heartwarming moments captured on film, not just because it’s sweet but because it’s also sad, and not in any way trite. I’m extremely grateful that the film refuses to cop to any of the audience’s wishes – secret or otherwise – for a sunset-ride ending, and it is so much more satisfying and enjoyable as a result.

#4. Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no Haka, 1988, Isao Takahata)

In spite of the fact that I’ve discussed many a crushingly depressing film on this countdown so far, I’ve tried to avoid the hyperbole of calling anything ‘the most depressing thing, ever, in the history of anything’. The reason is that that title belongs indisputably and irrevocably to Grave of the Fireflies. The story of two orphaned children trying to live out the final days of world war II in Japan, it gives me cathartic chills of pathos just thinking about it. Since the film begins with the older of the two children, Seita, collapsing in despair in a busy train station saying “that was the day I died”, I don’t think it’s a spoiler to mention that the story doesn’t end happily. However, there is a beauty in the totality of its tragedy, as it opens our eyes to the bleakness and hopelessness of war. It is a credit to this film’s sheer brilliance that I forgot I was watching animation, and a dubbed version thereof, and was just swept along on a wave of raw emotional power.

#3. In Bruges (2008, Martin McDonagh)

Right. Need to reset myself into silly-comedy mode. Again I feel I’m just late to the In Bruges party, but it slipped so stealthily under the radar of non-independent non-cult comedy when it was first released, yet managed to hang onto a reputation that is richly deserved. One of the smartest and funniest films of the past few years, it’s a darkly comic crime caper with a bit of a morality twist. What it achieves, firstly, is a quotability to match Tarantino at his best, with a delightfully coarse Colin Farrell as good as he could ever be. His challenge is met by a sweet, funny Brendan Gleeson, and although the two Irish lads are as entertaining company as you’d hope for, there was a big surprise waiting in the wings for halfway. Having Ralph Fiennes appear only halfway through the film is like having Lionel Messi on the bench to come on at half-time, and in cockney gangster form is brilliant. Although the film had me in love all the way through, I have to say I am a sucker for a story with a whole lot of complex threads that manages to dovetail them all by the conclusion. When all the little parts of this film came together in an explosive manner at the climax of this film, it was all I could do to stop from applauding like a lunatic, while sitting at my desk in a quiet office. I just loved it.

#2. Man on Wire (2008, James Marsh)

I’m obviously not someone who believes you shouldn’t judge documentary and non-documentary films together. I’m also keenly aware that two films from 2008 have squeezed into my top three. Will there be a third? From the moment Michael Nyman’s hauntingly beautiful Fish Beach starts playing at the start of Man on Wire, I was enamoured with this film. The story of tightrope walker Philippe Petit’s quest to walk between the two buildings of the World Trade Center [sic] in 1974, this part-biography part-crime film is magic in its pure essence. Petit’s flamboyant, impish personality is the star as he gesticulates and expostulates all about his love of the tightrope, and how he feels the WTC towers were meant for him to cross them. This is also a tense, exhilarating story with the suspenseful feel of a heist caper as it recreates Petit and his crew of conspirators managing the subterfuge that would find Petit suspended a mile in the air above a busy New York sidewalk during the morning rush hour. The culmination of the act is spine-tingling and awe-inspiring, but what makes the film yet further impressive and effective is the unspoken tragedy that befell those twin structures 27 years after the fact. Marsh’s decision not to mention or reference 9/11 was a brilliant one artistically, as the film is far more emotional as a result of what is not said. For fans of this film (i.e. everyone who’s seen it, come on), I also heartily recommend checking out Kurt Andersen’s excellent interview with Marsh and Petit on Studio 360. Although they basically just explain everything I just said anyway, it’s a great indictment of what a magnificent piece of filmmaking this is.

And so that moment is here... should we take an ad break? Well, drum roll maybe...

#1. Ran (1985, Akira Kurosawa)

There are good films, and there are great films, and then there are those films that take your breath away with the breadth of their mastery. Ran is one of those films, to the point where, while I was watching it in my lounge room one evening, I had to turn off all the lights and put my mobile out of reach, so I had nothing to distract me while I watched. It’s known as Kurosawa’s retelling of King Lear, although according to Wikipedia he came up with the idea organically, before the similarities were pointed out to him. As full disclosure I should say that I, like the Romantic critics, believe King Lear to be the pinnacle of Shakespeare’s achievements but, like William Hazlitt, believe that performance of the play engineers a necessary diminishment of emotional power. What Kurosawa achieves with Ran is not only a conservation of the emotional power of the story, but a rich, complex morality tale that King Lear itself could aspire to. A couple of key artistic decisions where the stories diverge are crucial to Ran’s monumental brilliance. Firstly, although I had immense fun playing Edmund in our school production in 2000, the Edmund/Edgar/Gloucester sub-plot has always seemed to be little more than a sub-plot and ultimately a distraction from the main story. It is completely absent here. Secondly, he portrays Hidetora, the king at the centre of the action here, as a former despot and tyrant (with remnants of his reign of terror lingering in disfigured human form), and so his tragic fall from grace has a poetic and cathartic resonance to it that excels the success of any other previous portrayal of the story. The heirs to Hidetora are sons here, not daughters, which is in some ways an arbitrary decision, but the conflict between the two eldest that ensues as their ambitions (and that of the relevant women involved) outweigh their blood loyalty to each other as brothers becomes the driving force and emotional crux of the film. The fulcrum sequence in the middle of the film, when the warring factions clash and Hidetora is caught in the crossfire, is possibly the most epic and mesmerising ten minutes I’ve seen on film. The sight of a psychologically cracked and broken down old man trudging slowly through two immense armies that part in shock before him, while his safe keep burns behind him, is the most striking and resonant image of the film. It also manages to adumbrate the enormous scale and scope of Kurosawa’s vision, of the destructive and explosive potential of human ambition and the lust for power. Although those minutes alone could account for Ran’s position as my favourite film I saw this year, every second of this masterpiece is just one piece of an enormous, psychologically weighted jigsaw.

And on that note, I wish you all a happy and hearty new year, and raise my glass to more and more movie-watching in 2012. I will be back in a day or two to run down – and trash – all the films considered unworthy of making the top 100 cut, but for all intents and purposes, that is the end of my top 100 countdown.

As a PS, I just noticed that with the exception of the ineligible Man on Wire, all of my top ten are also on the IMDb's top 250. How conformist of me.