Film Freak Central’s Top 10 of 2012

Top102012

by
Walter Chaw
I wish To the Wonder
had been
released this year–Take Shelter, too. The one
because I love Terrence
Malick and I'm excited that he's working so much, the other because I fear
that Take
Shelter
is the last time Michael Shannon will anchor a
picture without
being instantly Christopher Walken-ized. It's his The Dead
Zone
, and
he's amazing in a movie that takes big risks and pays off in a
meaningful way;
if he were to star in it now, I think it would be
mistaken
for camp. I also wish I'd seen Margaret in time
for my 2011 list. Alas, local publicity has never been terribly
interested
in my participation. Nevertheless, thanks mostly to Netflix
and FYC
screeners, I saw a great many great films this year.

I also saw Hitchcock. The Hobbit: An Unexpected
Journey
, Cloud
Atlas,
and Prometheus. There were
technically "worse" movies this year, but why stick another fork in Alex
Frost
or
What to
Expect When You're Expecting
? At the end of the day, when
we measure the
worst films of the year, shouldn't we focus on things we thought were
going
to be good that were all kinds of memorably awful? In other
words,
you
probably shouldn't have heard of every title on best-of lists, and you
probably should have heard of every title on the worst-ofs.
Great films need
champions,
like those little hole-in-the-wall restaurants you take your friends
to,
whereas awful films with broad impact (like Guy Fieri's Times Square
Frankenstein) need excoriation. Everything else is just wallpaper in
the rec room,
as it were.

You could argue that if 600 films were released this
year, 20-30 were probably wonderful, while 570-580 were varying degrees
of
not–meaning that if you're trolling for bad, you have a lot to choose
from.
When we talk about terrible, we should talk about socially damaging
pictures
like Beasts of the Southern Wild, maybe, or the
way that Cloud Atlas
presumes post-racial status by using rampant yellow-face to
almost no
mainstream censure while Tarantino's slavery flick prompts several
articles
about its use of the word "nigger." Again, a slavery
flick. I'm
imagining a Django Unchained where every
instance of the word is
replaced by "African-American." ("I counted six bullets, my
African-American brother." "I count two guns, my African-American
brother.") Besides, can we agree by now that Tarantino is commenting as
he's indulging? No?

Why not the same standard for Lincoln,
which
drops the "n" bomb once or twice? Because Spielberg hasn't been
criticized for it in the past? Because there are really no powerful,
driven
black people in it? Because it has white folk helping out black
folk, unlike
Django Unchained, which is a black guy killing everybody?
Then
why not go after Spielberg for his chronic, pathological exploitation
of
children in showing Tad Lincoln, unforgivably, get news of daddy's
death in
what is
essentially a bait-and-switch played dishonourable and loose to herald
another
of Spielberg's disastrous endings? Lincoln is
this year's The King's
Speech
: milquetoast soaked in milk. Congratulations on your
third Oscar,
Daniel.

We should even take a moment to discuss what it's
like to watch a film shot entirely in extreme close-up with wide-angle
lenses. No, Tom Hooper is not suddenly a good
director, he has simply been validated just enough to make him believe
that all his
decisions are good ones. Imagine the reign of terror that would have
ensued had
Battlefield Earth been a huge success. Still,
Anne Hathaway is a
revelation. She dies thirty minutes or so into the picture. Once she
does, you are
free to
go. Or you could wait for the clip on the Oscar broadcast.
Congratulations
to you as well, Ms. Hathaway.

The worst films of the year were drag shows: bad
makeup, vampy performances, played to the rafters, with precious
little in
the way of self-awareness. If we look for commonality among the worst
of the
worst, we identify a slippage in film-craft–enough so that the tease
that maybe
a few more frames of Tod Browning's London After Midnight
have turned up was enough to send shivers down the spine of every
practical-effects
lover in the audience. And, by the way, last night I watched "Pawn
Stars" in 48fps. It looked so real.

But the best: the best films of 2012 were the best
critiques of the worst films of 2012. They examined the digital
revolution and
what it's wrought in the cinema. I had a lovely conversation one night
with a
projectionist friend of mine about the cost and consequences of digital
projection–and my key takeaway from it was that, like how we feel
about Global
Warming now, we're past the point of preventative measures and
well into the period where we should be hoarding water and digging out
a shelter in our
backyard.
The best movies of the year examined how we watched movies
and
understood them–they flattered our ability to understand human
relationships
by being quiet and showing it to us. They presented moments of real
nostalgia
and regret for things that are gone and not coming back.

I'm drawn to pictures like that, I know. It's a predilection
I'm done apologizing for; if you've stuck with me for any
period of
time,
gentle reader, you know what to expect from me by now in any case. I
look to
movies for personal revelation. I'm offended when they, Skyfall-like,
try to tell me the answer is, "Bitches, man." (Boy, Kate Winslet sure
did a number on ol' Sam. Good for her.) I'm gratified when
something
like Haywire says everything there needs to be
said about what's wrong
with The Bourne Legacy, more eloquently
than
any splash of digitized
column-width ever could. I like my echo chamber. I've decorated it with
posters
and bookshelves.

I also didn't like Moonrise Kingdom
much. And I
love Wes Anderson. And so it goes.

Top102012holymotors2WALTER
CHAW'S TOP 10

Things
I didn't see that I might have liked to
have
seen:
Zero Dark Thirty, Amour,
The Imposter,
This is Not a Film, Barbara

Thing
I didn't see on
purpose, four times:
Breaking Dawn 2.2:
Pedophilia and Pre-Arranged Marriage, LDS Edition

Things
I saw and was glad I
did:
Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning,
Keep the Lights On,
Compliance, Chronicle, The
Tall Man
, Bad 25, I Wish,
Headhunters,
Elena, Killer
Joe
, Life Without Principle, The
Grey

Things
I saw and was sorry:
Hyde Park on
the Hudson, Promised Land, Les Misérables

The
worst films of the year:
Cloud
Atlas
, Hitchcock, Prometheus

Here's
my list of the Top 20 films of 2012 followed by capsule write-ups
grouped thematically:

  1. Holy
    Motors
  2. Oslo,
    August 31
  3. Once
    Upon
    a Time in Anatolia
  4. The
    Loneliest Planet
  5. The
    Master
  6. Django
    Unchained
  7. Wuthering
    Heights
  8. Haywire
  9. Cosmopolis
  10. The
    Turin
    Horse
  11. Killing
    Them Softly
  12. Beyond
    the
    Black Rainbow
  13. The
    Deep
    Blue Sea
  14. The
    Kid
    with a Bike
  15. The
    Snowtown Murders
  16. Alps
  17. Magic
    Mike
  18. Harakiri:
    Death of a Samurai
  19. The
    Dark
    Knight Rises
  20. Intruders
Top102012moonrisekingdom

ANGELO MUREDDA
10.
In the Family

(d. Patrick Wang)
In
the climactic set-piece of Texan
dramaturge Wang's first feature, a defense attorney urges the
multi-hyphenate director-star's
character to take all the time he needs in making his case for sole
custody of
the child he raised with his late partner. That dictum also applies to
the
film, which luxuriates in quiet moments that less patient filmmakers
would
consider expendable. Wang doesn't always know where to put the camera,
but his
script is an unfailingly smart character study of a decent man who's
ostensibly
spent his whole life passing in hostile environments now forced to
disclose
both
his sexual and ethnic otherness in a community he considers home. Like
Kenneth
Lonergan's
Margaret last year, this
is a fine work of minimalist
American filmmaking about the grandest of subjects, in this case the
family
and its most sacred totem: the child.


9.
The
Loneliest Planet
(d. Julia Loktev)
Late
in
The
Loneliest Planet
, Nica (Hani Furstenberg) and
her fiancé Alex (Gael García Bernal) come to a minor truce while
conjugating "to
listen" in Spanish. It would be a shame to spoil what drove them apart
on
their backpacking tour through Georgia in the first place, but suffice
it to
say their choice of reconciliatory verb isn't insignificant. Like the
spatially-inflected work of Kelly Reichardt, who composed
Meek's Cutoff almost as a
side-scrolling video game moving
at
a wagon's pace, Loktev forces us to slow down and pay heed to
subtle shifts
both in the landscape the couple traverses and in the emotional
distances
between Nica, Alex, and their eventual guide Dato (Bidzina Gujabidze)
at any
given point. The result is a deceptively simple but
ingeniously-designed film
whose form is perfectly in step with its modest thematic inquiry into
the
spaces that open up between intimates.


8.
Bestiaire
(d. Denis Côté)
The
first animal we see in
Bestiaire is a human, a
twentysomething art student
sketching a taxidermied mammal in drawing class. That's the last we
see of
our kind for some time in this most unusual, strikingly lensed, and
hypnotically-paced documentary, which presents the animals of a safari
park in
Quebec with the bemused detachment and light sympathy Côté usually
brings
to his eccentric human protagonists, like the shut-in father and
daughter of
last year's
Curling. Much as he
downplays the
human overseers of the park, Côté never obscures his own hand in the
proceedings: The disorienting reverse shot of the drawing woman through
the
stuffed beast's antlers is the first of countless droll (and
uncomfortable)
compositions that forces us to wonder if documentarians and spectators
are
really so far from taxidermists after all.


7.
The Deep
Blue Sea
(d. Terence Davies)
Among
recent adaptations from stage to screen,
you'd be hard-pressed to find a better match-up between source text and
director than Davies's
The Deep Blue Sea,
based on the Terence Rattigan play. Judging from the extravagant
melancholy of
Davies's candid voiceover in
Of Time and the
City
,
he has a lot in common with his latest film's protagonist, Hester, a
manic-depressive who seems to wake up one morning to find she's
incapable of
holding any feelings in reserve. Rachel Weisz plays Hester in
a career-best performance composed of far subtler shades than her
Academy Award-winning
turn in
The Constant Gardener. It's a tricky
role, calling for a movie star
to hold those glorious close-ups, but equally demanding a performer
without a
trace of vanity, one who's capable of descending to bathetic lows and
lighting up
the
dim, shoddily-plastered rooms the script crams her into. Mission
accomplished: Her self-destruction is about as gorgeous as they come.


6.
Moonrise
Kingdom
(d. Wes Anderson)
So
well-defined is Wes Anderson's style that
each new film sometimes seems beholden to a rulebook that delimits
what's
possible from the first to the last frame. What a lovely surprise,
then, to see
him forego his usual coda of a slow-motion procession in
Moonrise Kingdom, a movie that
closes
with one of the most indelible
images of the year: a painting that melts into a snapshot of a faded
memory as
surely as the painter's childhood innocence will melt into adult woes
the
moment the film ends. Above all else,
Moonrise
Kingdom
is young-adult literature at its most
delicate, with a
getting-to-know-you stretch on the titular islet as evocative and
tender as the
growing-up montage in Terrence Malick's
The
Tree of Life.


5.
Killer Joe
(d. William Friedkin)
Friedkin's
may not be the first name you'd
associate with gracefulness, but that's what it takes to turn a play as
relentlessly sour as Tracy Letts's
Killer Joe
into a generous actors' showcase. Letts's nasty turns-of-phrase and
Southern
Gothic tropes are in full, riotous effect, but credit Friedkin for
bringing out
the baseline humanity in this gallery of grotesques. Masterful
performances
abound, though it's the brutalized women who come out on top in spite
of their
abjection. Juno Temple invests her idealistic waif with just the right
amount
of veiled cynicism. She's surpassed only by Gina Gershon's
tightly-wound
opportunist, whose survival instincts withstand the worst humiliations
the
other characters (and the film) throw at her.


4.
Holy Motors
(d. Leos Carax)
Much
has been made of the supposed grand
innovation of
Les Misérables' live singing,
but what of
the show-stopping centrepiece of
Holy Motors, a
lyrical dance between virtuoso star Denis Lavant and chanteuse Kylie
Minogue?
Whether you read her song as the film's thematic linchpin or just an
ironic
riff on "The Way We Were," it's tough to steel oneself against its
sad whimsy. Those who come to Leos Carax's latest expecting either a
manic
revue or an allegory about the death of film are sure to find what
they're
looking for, yet it's this emotional undercurrent about performers
inhabiting
new selves in aging bodies–which is always just this side of ironic,
given the
inherent phoniness of the premise–that makes the film a singularly
moving
experience.


3.
The Master
(d. Paul Thomas Anderson)
No
one, not even Stanley Kubrick, does male
hysteria quite like Paul Thomas Anderson. The temptation is to read
The Master as the next
logical step after
There Will Be Blood's widescreen
vistas, but the more natural
reference point might be
Punch-Drunk Love. The Master lifts a sequence
from that curious star
vehicle
almost wholesale, but instead of Adam Sandler running for his life in
circles
through a deserted L.A. street, we get Joaquin Phoenix fleeing into a
cornfield. They're both headed nowhere, at least until they're not, and
while
the earlier film grants its lovable hysteric a moment of pause ("I have
a
love in my life"),
The Master is
more interested in the disenchantment and hopeless wandering that
follows. As
the titular Svengali, Philip Seymour Hoffman is a terrific blend of
patriarchal
back-patting and hot air, but this is Phoenix's movie; the moment he
realizes
his master has nothing left to offer him is as heartbreaking as
anything this
year.


2.
This
is Not a Film (In film nist)

(ds. Jafar Panahi & Mojtaba Mirtahmasb)
The
most vital piece of filmmaking this year
was
also the most self-deprecating. Jafar Panahi's self-portrait of a
muzzled
artist banned from making films and awaiting his prison term for
anti-government propaganda was tellingly smuggled out of his apartment
and
beyond Iran on a flash drive embedded in a cake. Like Robert Bresson's
A Man Escaped, this is a film
(indeed) about an escape
artist
making do with the materials at hand; by extension, it's about the
exhilarating
imaginative and political liberties afforded by living in the most
untenable,
dire conditions. That isn't to say it's redemptive: Panahi's late play
with his
iPhone camera after the departure of DP and co-director Mojtaba
Mirtahmasb (who
was also imprisoned as a result of his work on the non-film) suggests a
powerful docudrama hemmed in by spatial and aesthetic considerations.
It isn't
a film only because it isn't allowed to be.


1.
Tabu
(d. Miguel Gomes)
Kindly
ignore anyone with the temerity to
suggest that Miguel Gomes's newest film is strictly for cinephiles. To
repurpose bell hooks,
Tabu is
for everybody, particularly anyone capable of a gut reaction to the
lovesick
harmonies of Phil Spector's "Be My Baby," played twice via a
Portuguese boy band's cover. Brilliantly structured as a contemporary
chamber
drama about loving your neighbours in the first part and, in the
second, as a
dreamy silent film re-imagining of their heretofore unknown histories,
this is
the rare critical darling that's as warm as it is intelligent. That
Tabu manages to juggle
its humanistic portrait of
its central characters–a Portuguese landowner in Africa (played as a
stone-faced young huntress by Ana Moreira and as a haunted older woman
by Laura
Soveral) and her bleeding-heart neighbour
(Teresa
Madruga, terrific)
in present-day
Lisbon–with a sobering critique of their colonial
ignorance and
privilege is astounding. That should make it essential viewing for
anyone
who wants to take on a romantic epic in exotic lands from here on out.
Or for
anyone, really.


11.
Bernie
(d. Richard Linklater)

12.
Barbara (d. Christian
Petzold)

13.
Alps (d. Giorgos
Lanthimos)

14.
Goodbye
First Love
(d. Mia
Hansen-Løve)

15.
Zero Dark Thirty (d. Kathryn
Bigelow)

16.
Stories
We Tell
(d. Sarah Polley)
17.
Cosmopolis (d. David
Cronenberg)

18.
Goon (d. Michael Dowse)
19.
Beyond the Black
Rainbow
(d. Panos
Cosmatos)

20.
Oslo, August 31st (d. Joachim Trier)

Best
Undistributed:
Greatest
Hits
, Leviathan,
Tower,
Vivan las Antipodas,
When Night Falls

Top102012killerjoe

BILL
CHAMBERS
10.5
The in-all-ways
tragic prologue of Dark Shadows,
a self-contained short that
might be the best thing Tim Burton's ever done. The picture fleetingly
rises to
the occasion thereafter, but otherwise peaks with "Nights in White
Satin"–Danny
Elfman wisely sits out the credits of this one–and a breathtaking young
woman (Bella
Heathcote, looking, in critic Tim Lucas's words, like
"love-at-first-sight
incarnate") on a train to…nowhere, it turns out, though the ride is
indelible.

10.
The Loneliest Planet

(d. Julia Loktev)


It doesn't take much to imagine Chuck Lorre
repurposing this material for his trademark "Ain't he a stinker?"
yuks. But even though the caveman truth of her male companions comes as
a shock
to our heroine, a dorky redhead backpacking through the Caucasus
mountains,
there is something resigned about the film's attitude that's just
heartbreaking.
9. Oslo,
August 31st (Oslo, 31.august)
(d. Joachim
Trier)


A low-key High
Noon
in which the showdown is between a desperate man and
his
willpower.
Memories and relapse become inextricably entangled for recovering
addict
Anders, a nice guy poised to self-destruct during a weekend leave from
rehab
because the holes he left in the lives of others have closed up in his
absence,
leaving him to retreat farther and farther into the dangerous depths of
his mind.
Depressing;
vital.
8. The
Dictator
(d. Larry Charles)


It's too loaded a
statement to say that Sacha Baron Cohen is the new Peter Sellers, not
the least
because his racial caricatures serve the opposite purpose of Sellers's
own, but
it's a handy shorthand for the particular skill set he brings to the
table–including
an incredible capacity for silliness. Some would argue that, like the
similarly
crass Ted, The Dictator
fizzes
out into conventional romcom
sentiment, but Ted doesn't end with Mark Wahlberg
promising to abort his
firstborn if it's a girl. For my money, the funniest movie since The
Jerk
–and
in many ways an edgy version of the same fish-out-of-water tale.
7. The
Grey
(d. Joe Carnahan)


I was prepared to
sneer, given the director (Joe "The A-Team"
Carnahan) and
basic premise (Liam Neeson vs. wolves), but The Grey
is so palpably
grief-stricken it humbled me. The most emotionally authentic film about
death
since Rob Zombie's Halloween II.
6.
Holy
Motors
(d. Leos Carax)
It's about
transience, I think: the mutation of cinema, the strangeness of being
an actor,
the decline of pop stars, automobile travel. A gratifying
mindfuck, and if it has anything in common with Cosmopolis
apart from the limos, it's that both films offer kaleidoscopic X-rays
of their
directors' heads–and maybe, just maybe, of our world at this moment.
5.
Killer
Joe
(d. William Friedkin)
I will always fondly
remember Killer Joe for inspiring a mass exodus
at
a press screening,
only to properly end mere minutes later. I'm glad to see the Twitterati
have
since embraced it for the exuberantly appalling scuzzball noir
it is,
featuring a performance of instant legend from 2012 MVP Matthew
McConaughey and
Juno Temple as the world's most erotic Gelfling. Deep down, William
Friedkin is
a frustrated exploitation director–one of our best.
4.
Cosmopolis

(d. David Cronenberg)
This is the film I'd
hoped the hysterically overpraised American Psycho
would be, and now I
remember that Cronenberg was actually going to direct that movie once
upon a
time. Better late than never, and Don DeLillo's circular dialogue is a
better
match for Cronenberg's sensibilities than Bret Easton Ellis's lumpy
prose,
anyway.
3.
Take
This Waltz
(d. Sarah Polley)
As an actress, Sarah
Polley is a bit of an ice queen, but as a filmmaker, she's warm,
generous, and
playful. Make no mistake, there's still an edge there: Her candy-coated
Toronto is also conspicuously clammy,
and she fearlessly backs her shiftless female protagonist into a
corner.
Resonant
as all get out, Take
This Waltz

made me momentarily un-sick
of Michelle Williams, Seth Rogen, and even the romcom genre itself.
2. The
Master
(d. Paul Thomas Anderson)


Scene of the year:
Lancaster Dodd challenges Freddie Quell not to blink.
1.
This
is Not a Film (In film nist)

(ds. Jafar Panahi & Mojtaba Mirtahmasb)
"If we could
tell a film we wouldn't need to make one," sighs filmmaker Jafar Panahi
in
exasperation in the first of a few botched attempts to act out a script
he
couldn't get approval to shoot by a government that's now sentenced him
to six
years in prison and banned him from filmmaking for another fourteen.
Which is
like asking him not to eat, as we see in his frustrated, sometimes
reckless
attempts to do something, anything with video cameras that ultimately
document
one of his last days as a free man. He feeds his daughter's pet (one of
the
great reveals–I won't spoil it), shares his wisdom in impromptu DVD
commentaries, and bickers with neighbours, all the while struggling not
to
crack. The piece, this "effort," culminates in an absurdly compelling
sequence in which Panahi does rounds with a charismatic garbage man who
knows a
lot more than his vocation might suggest. As they descend the building,
each
floor takes on a more menacing character than the last, until finally
they
reach the street and find Tehran in flames. This is not a
metaphor…though it
might as well be.
Runners-up:
21 Jump Street,
Beyond the Black
Rainbow
, Moonrise
Kingdom
,
ParaNormanMagic Mike

Regrettably
Missed:
Django Unchained, Tabu, The Color Wheel
Indefensible: Ruby Sparks, Hitchcock, Prometheus
Top102012master
CONSENSUS:
THE 5 BEST FILMS OF 2012
1.
Holy Motors | The Master
2. This is Not a Film
3. The Loneliest Planet
4. Killer Joe
5. Oslo, August 31st

19. The
Dark Knight Rises
(d. Christopher Nolan)

11. Killing
Them Softly

(d. Andrew Dominik)

9. Cosmopolis
(d. David Cronenberg)

A mess narratively, Nolan's
films work because they're
emotionally coherent. They are operas, grand and melodramatic, and the
finale to his troubled trilogy carries as its payload an unquiet
argument for tearing it all down before siding with order, some would
say fascism. Our hero takes the easy way out, our heroine just wants to
escape, too, and the only people left are disenfranchised and revealed
for the venal, small things they are. It's an interesting thing to
suggest that the United States is in need of a Truth and Reconciliation
Commission after our financial collapse–even more interesting because
we've yet to ever address the class war that festers at the middle of
our ills. Where Bane is from, where Batman is from, and where they end
up with a new hero rising from the working class…it's fascinating,
and
it's ours.

Andrew
Dominik's The
Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
will
one day headline a forgotten masterpieces festival that I program with
Jonathan Glazer's Birth.
His follow-up, Killing Them Softly, is a metaphor
for the American financial collapse, overtly in the constant playing of
speeches delivered by George W. Bush and Barack Obama, staring into the
teeth of a hard decade, maybe more, of debt ceilings, fiscal cliffs,
and general insolvency. It opens to blowing papers that remind
instantly of the chits around the feet of Wall Street traders (who were
themselves brutalized in this year's Dark
Knight Rises
), then focuses in on sad-sack criminals and
the sad-sack organized-crime bureaucrats enlisting the sad-sack
assassins to kill them. Brad Pitt and James Gandolfini anchor the
production with spot-on and, in the latter's case, devastating
performances, even if Gandolfini's medium-functioning lush takes a
backseat this year to Denzel Washington's high-functioning pilot. Two
scenes, both with Ray Liotta's low-level thug, are destined for legend,
the first an unbearably tense robbery of a card game he runs, the
second his inevitable exit in a fury of broken glass and traffic
signals. If it's occasionally too spot-on in its attempt to draw the
collapse of the United States money system before decades of graft and
slackening regulation, it's also artful in its outrage, almost amused.
This isn't anything new, it says, and there's always another way to get
paid.

David
Cronenberg's astounding adaptation of Don DeLillo's "unfilmable" Cosmopolis
is
likewise about the Occupy Movement (literally this time), as a
billionaire mover of money attempts to negotiate sex with his chilly
artist wife; early detection with his very thorough proctologist; and
solvency with the man who wants to kill him on principle. It's
another undead Robert Pattinson character who wants immortality, sex,
and happiness, this one casting into harsh consideration what's really
important to all those "team Edwardians" out there. As biomechanical as
any of Cronenberg's tax-shelter bogeys, the creatures of Cosmopolis
are
melded with their technology, trading in lights and figures as the
world burns down, in search of one authentic thing even if it's Chinese
takeout, days old and cold, and a haircut from a trusted scissor. When
Cronenberg gifts his parasite with stigmata, he creates one of the most
disturbing satirical moments erupting from our entire mess.

18. Harakiri:
Death of a Samurai
(d. Takashi Miike)

17. Magic
Mike
(d. Steven Soderbergh)

13. The
Deep Blue Sea

(d. Terrence Davies)
6. Django
Unchained
(d. Quentin Tarantino)

Self-respect, dignity, and
the absolute
corruption of the ruling class mark Takashi Miike's brilliant remake of
Masaki Kobayashi's timeless Harakiri (1962).
The original undergoes extensive, essential changes (what it shows,
what
it doesn't), and in so doing engages the entire samurai genre in a
sign/signifier duality: It doesn't mean what it seems to
mean; it is the Heisenberg
principle as it manifests in film. It doesn't seek to be another
examination of the Bushido code, but rather a canny conversation about
its representation in modernity as it trails a long tradition behind it.
Miike, here and in last year's 13
Samurai
, demonstrates that the United States doesn't have
the corner on Quentin Tarantinos. If only Tarantino were a quarter
as prolific.

Steven
Soderbergh's Magic
Mike
has
the spirit and smarts of John Huston's Fat
City
while
following a similar trajectory as Miike's crucible of blood and shame.
Matthew McConaughey's 2012 resurrection is captured in part here as he
plays the owner of a male strip club headlined by the titular stud
(Channing Tatum), who's just smart enough to know better but not smart
enough to know how to get out. It's a funny, thoughtful take on the
difficulty of "making it" and the peculiarity of male friendship,
whether success be measured in love, finances, responsibility, or,
finally, self-respect. Self-respect and dignity: major themes
in a
year that might offer some recognition of a need for both. It has
the tough core of a Seventies flick and walks an impossible line
between farce and tragedy to become, at its end, as likable as it is
unerringly contemporary. It's also the sweetest love story of the
year–yeah, I'm looking at you, Moonrise
Kingdom
.

Rachel
Weisz plays Anna Karenina essentially, but a far more sympathetic one
than Tolstoy's spoiled child of privilege–if only because Weisz is a
singular, extraordinary talent and here gives, in Terence Davies's
rapturous, drunk, Wong Kar-wai-ian adaptation of Terence Rattigan's
play, the performance of a career. She's Hester, caught in a loveless
marriage to a much older mama's boy of a prig, engaged in adultery with
a younger man who doesn't love her like she loves him, doesn't need her
in the same desperate manner. Davies shoots the story in much
the same way he did his underseen Of
Time and the City
: obliquely, in blues, in dreamy, swaying,
waltzing motions that speak at once to the rapture of this deep and to
the dangers of drowning.

A
love story of a slightly different shade, Tarantino's Django
Unchained
provides
an appropriately savage, appropriately stunning look at the legacy of
slavery, at black-on-black violence, at the cost of vengeance. It
returns the Spaghetti Western to the United States that spawned it,
providing a sophisticated indictment of Reconstruction much like Inglourious
Basterds
was
brutally frank about the establishment of a Jewish state
post-Holocaust. Tarantino's films, violent, glorious, prurient at
times, self-indulgent at others, are at their heart moral exercises
that have as their base a real questioning spirit. His only real rival
Sergio Leone as a master of soundtrack and score, consider his
use of a John Legend song followed not long after by Johnny Cash. Too
easily dismissed as a revenge film, Django
Unchained
is instead
about original sin.

20. Intruders
(d. Juan Carlos Fresnadillo)

15. The
Snowtown Murders
(a.k.a.
Snowtown)
(d. Justin Kurzel)

12. Beyond
the Black Rainbow
(d. Panos
Cosmatos)

When the dust settles and
the smoke clears, I do wonder if guys like
Juan Carlos Fresnadillo and Pascal Laugier won't finally get their due
as the spearhead of a horror revolution, the two of them landing with
new films in the same year that Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon received a round of applause for their genre-hating The Cabin
in the Woods
. Fresnadillo's is Intruders,
a Clive Owen-fronted piece about parents' inability to protect their
children from the disappointment of discovering that they're
flawed, helpless, and as frightened as their kids are of the things in the
darkness of the closet and pooling beneath the bed. Maybe they're even
responsible for them. It posits a truly awful antagonist in Hollow
Face–a thing that wants to steal faces to present as his own–and it
seems that only Owen's father character and the daughter he's trying to
protect are able to see it. It's the kind of movie Guillermo
Del
Toro would have made back in his Devil's
Backbone
days;
and it certainly doesn't hurt that it knows enough about its genre to
make a knowing, haunted reference to Robert Wise's Curse
of the Cat People
in
not just a tree-knot mailbox, but also the depth of its parent/child
relationship, all of disappointment and horror. Doesn't hurt that
it's really scary, too.

Scary in a different way is Aussie Justin Kurzel's debut The
Snowtown Murders
. Based on a notorious serial killing spree
in little Adelaide, the film follows the exploits of affable, chubby,
bearded John Bunting (Daniel Henshall) as he seduces lost, abandoned
Jamie (Lucas Pittaway) and enlists him in his cleansing expeditions.
The spiritual cousin to Animal
Kingdom
, it owes its icy mendacity to John
McNaughton's still-unequalled Henry:
Portrait of a Serial Killer.
In
portraying evil as banal, charmless, and predatory, it essays without
much judgment how it is that the soulless find minions and the
rationales offered up for the necessary culling of imaginary flocks.
Its violence plain and unglamorous, the whole of it is presented
unadorned as this poison capsule of desultory, feckless malignance.
Human cancer doing only what cancer ever does, terrifyingly and
without malice or any hint of human emotion.

Panos
Cosmatos's '70/'80s throwback/existential horror trip Beyond
the Black Rainbow
is
a singular achievement–equal parts homage and psychotropic atrocity.
It's about Elena (Eva Allan), sort of, prisoner of utopian
science
lab Arboria, a facility introduced in a video that reminds of David
Cronenberg's intro to the futuristic condo in Shivers
before
becoming something what a Cronenberg film would look
like in his mutations period if it were designed by Salvador Dali and,
why not, a young George Lucas. Elena plots to escape her captivity past
Terry Gilliam nightmares and the clutches of evil Barry (Michael
Rogers) into an impossible world of Tony Scott's immortal cadavers
housed in gauze and curtains. And there's something called "The Devil's
Teardrop," which is more or less exactly what it sounds like. The
Brood
in
parts and Santa
Sangre
in
others, it is, in other words, deeply disturbing and immanently
rewarding. It's madness. What's not to love?

8. Haywire
(d.
Steven Soderbergh)

A singular film this year
and the perfect antidote to Sam
Mendes's fit of pique at Kate Winslet divorcing his unpleasant ass (Skyfall),
it's a spy/assassin movie broken down into its component parts and
reconstructed around an absolute kickass, sexy heroine who is betrayed
by every man not her father and so kills everyone. She's never the
victim, never the product of a broken home or a lousy upbringing, she's
just very good at what she does–yet still seen as
expendable by her peers and bosses. Soderbergh re-establishes
himself as one of the country's most vital filmmakers, shooting
everything in a way that is completely unexpected so that it owes a
greater kinship to the auto-critical, meta-gangster flicks of the
French New Wave than to its more obvious antecedents. Look at a scene shot
in an apartment where a character standing up and sitting down is
chronicled by a fluid camera, moving up and down in tandem but through
a shelving unit. It's not as arty as you might think, but it's more
brilliant than you probably give it credit for being. Take it as a
lovely companion piece to Anton Corbijn's The
American
: artisanal films about artisans.

7. Wuthering
Heights
(d. Andrea Arnold)

5. The
Master
(d. Paul Thomas Anderson)
4. The
Loneliest Planet

(d. Julia Loktev)

Andrea Arnold's Wuthering
Heights
is
bestial, filthy–it's the best Jane Campion film in a year without one,
and it joins Django
Unchained
as the
conversation about race and its representation that Lincoln was
not. It's an eloquent explication of how Romanticism and Faulkner's
Naturalism are bridged by the Brontë, as well as the best
adaptation of
classic literature in a year that saw a really good try in Joe Wright's
fascinatingly askew Anna
Karenina
. I've always loved Wuthering Heights,
loved its supernatural element, its lust, its hero so pitch in his rage
and desire for vengeance that he destroys everything he seeks to
preserve for a legacy that's not his to claim.

Then
there's Paul Thomas Anderson's The
Master
. Essentially an adaptation of the first book of John
Keats's Endymion,
in which our hero relates his dreams and visions in preparation for his
descent
into deeps, his wakening of a long-imprisoned god, his pursuit of
beauty and love. It is a Romanticist text through and through, telling
of the slipperiness of identity and following a seeker in Freddie Quell
(Joaquin Phoenix) who is the quintessential evocation of the modern
figure lost, knowing only that he lacks.
I love the moment
where Freddie dreams to find that his "master," Lancaster Dodd (Philip
Seymour Hoffman), based not very loosely on L. Ron Hubbard, has shared
his dream–or that we're sharing their dream, or that the dream is
collective and not personal; by the end of The Master, the
separation between the audience and the product has become meaningless.
The entire film is one of Dodd's exercises in dissociation–in
accessing something collective and sublime in the beating of a man's
hands against a glass window.

The
biggest joke and the highest sublimity of the piece is Anderson
identifying Freddie's motivation throughout as one satisfying sexual
encounter. He offers Freddie a vagina made of sand, another underage
and out of reach to time, a dinner party of them subvocal and mocking.
Dodd gets the same treatment, a brusque handjob from his harridan wife his only
release. The only natural sex in the film comes in the final
scene as Freddie mocks his master's voice. He's won a sort of victory,
I suppose, but I wonder if the climax isn't when Freddie rides a
motorcycle on a salt flat…forever, and if that moment where Freddie
and Dodd have it out in neighbouring jail cells isn't actually the most
intimate in a picture striving for them. It's a film about
Keats's consummation sublime; Wuthering Heights
is
a
different evocation of the same.

Julia
Loktev's The
Loneliest Planet
is
disappointment of another sort. Impossibly observant, impossibly
intimate, it is the second-best use of score (an existing piece by
Richard Skelton) in a film this year behind only Tarantino's, and the
picture, by
the end, establishes itself as a de
facto
fourth film in Gus Van Sant's
"death trilogy." Set in Soviet Georgia's Caucasus mountains (where,
legend has it, Prometheus was chained for his sins against heaven), it
puts its young lovers in a natural state with and against one another.
It challenges notions of gender–identity, really–and does it
lyrically, gracefully, and, yeah, even poetically.

10. The
Turin Horse
(A torinói
ló)
(d. Béla Tarr)

3. Once
Upon a Time in Anatolia
(Bir
zamanlar Anadolu'da)
(d. Nuri Bilge Ceylan)

Elder statesman Bela Tarr's
The
Turin Horse,
in
perhaps capturing the dead-horse-beater that anecdotally drove
Nietzsche mad, proceeds to beat a dead horse over the course of
increasingly deadening, though never less ferocious, cycles of
hardscrabble, meaningless existence. The well runs dry, the tempest
rages, frugal repasts mark the time spent fuelling for the next round
of pointless subsistence. There is a mad fury to Tarr's vision of the
apocalypse, of Sisyphus in his toils but focused in on the blisters,
the lame arm, the filth. Universal? Certainly universal, and
unabashedly
grand in its occasional pronouncements that "everything is lost
forever." There is nothing that matters in The
Turin Horse
, and the extended shots of our hero (Janos
Derzsi) and his daughter (Erika Bok) staring into the endless eddy
outside their hovel's window have about them a certain entropic rage.
It's a film bout inference, and a horror movie by definition.
Watch it in a cycle with Melancholia and
Synecdoche,
New York
with
a Lexapro chaser.

Nuri
Bilge Ceylan's Once
Upon a Time in Anatolia,
his
astonishing follow-up to the underappreciated Three
Monkeys
, is set against the gorgeous Turkish "outback,"
where
a small group of policemen and coroners and doctors accompany a
confessed murderer to a dimly-remembered grave where he's interred his
victim following a drunken row. That's it. Home to the most beautiful
landscape cinematography of any film this year (a close second: John
Hillcoat's too-conventional Lawless), it's about
the smallness of individual lives against all the crushing weight of
history and culture. Like The
Turin Hors
e, but
with a slower existential boil. The most spiritual film of the year,
watching it is a spiritual experience, anchored by a moment in the
middle where our sojourners, finding succour for a moment in a friendly
village, are served a candlelit nightcap by a young woman haloed
in her innocence and youth. The reactions our heroes have to her
are natural: some are smitten, some are appalled that they're smitten, some
recognize in her what they've bartered away in a second's
misconsideration–or a lifetime of them. It's about regret, and
routine. It's the year's most Kierkegaardian picture, and I can't shake
it.

14. The
Kid with a Bike (Le gamin au vélo)
(ds. Jean-Pierre
Dardenne & Luc Dardenne)

2. Oslo,
August 31st (Oslo, 31. august)

(d. Joachim Trier)

The Dardennes' best film
since The
Son
, The
Kid with a Bike
channels
Truffaut's Antoine Doinel films with the saga of poor little Cyril
(Thomas Doret), abandoned by his asshole father (Jérémie Renier) and
thrust into the foster care of hairdresser Samantha (unbelievably
beautiful Cecile De France) in an unquiet period of his life. Given to
uncontrollable fits of rage, Cyril falls in with the wrong people, gets
into bad trouble, and then tries to make amends. Through it all is
that streak of forgiveness and charity that marks the Dardennes as,
ultimately, perhaps more daring than dour Michael Haneke. Shot with no
affectation, the performances are likewise unaffected, while Samantha's
dedication to Cyril plays as the kind
of genuinely-earned salve to melancholy.

Compare
it to Joachim Trier's heartbreaking Oslo,
August 31
st,
which features a remarkable, again completely unaffected, performance
by
Anders Danielsen Lie as Anders, an addict pushing 30 who finds himself
smart, briefly sober, and staring down the barrel of unconquerable
barriers. He wanders the titular city on the titular day, haunting old
friends and leaving messages for an ex-girlfriend we infer
he's
damaged irreparably with his penchant for self-destruction. He goes to
a job interview, goes to lunch, finds a girl who wouldn't mind going
skinny-dipping, and makes his way home. Along the
way, there are conversations and confessions, with the film opening
like
a divine revelation when Anders, who we see early on trying to kill
himself, asks a buddy what use are platitudes when everything has
passed you by and it's too late? Everything is lost
forever. There're no missteps here, only keen observations and quiet
epiphanies and recognition. It all feels like a message from a bell
jar. Its sense of regret, the ability to capture through script and
performance and image that fleeting passage of youth and what it really
means to be resigned to a bad end, is pure. It's devastating.

16. Alps (Alpeis) (d.
Giorgos Lanthimos)
1. Holy
Motors
(d. Leos Carax)

Giorgos Lanthimos follows
up his incomparable Dogtooth with
another strange, narratively loose, emotionally dense picture, Alps,
that presents a team of caregivers who masquerade as the
recently-deceased in order to ease the suffering of the
recently-bereaved. (They name themselves after the titular mountain
range in the first of the film's philosophical feints and
presumptions.) Superheroes of a sort, they cast themselves as
emotional avengers, even when it's clear that there are not always
existential wrongs to be corrected. Alps is
a
film about playing roles until they aren't roles anymore–a film about
belief and suspension, even as it's about denial and avoidance.

Leos
Carax's astonishing Holy
Motors
offers
its own transcendence in the act of creation and consumption. In
following Denis Lavant during an endless ride in the back of a
limousine ferrying him from role to role as he dons and sheds myriad
skins in myriad scenarios, it's the most exhilaratingly confounding
mystery of the year. It would be comfortable in a double feature with Mulholland
Drive
. (Not many films would be comfortable there.) Too pat
to
say that it's a movie about movies, Holy
Motors
is
a movie about belief and the almost sexual relationship between
spectator and art object in any medium. It's the most
accomplished
picture I've ever seen that goes about these things in this way that
wasn't directed by fellow film critic Godard. Carax's first full
feature in
thirteen years, Holy
Motors
serves
a complement to the "Merde" section of Tokyo!; it's dangerous in a way that films aren't much anymore, challenging to say
the least, and feral/unclassifiable. It is the most satisfying film of
the year because it is the most cinematic film of the year; watch it
after anything and find it commenting on what you've just seen. Magic.

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69 Comments

  1. corym

    I’ve been reading the site long enough that I’m not completely surprised by these lists, but it was a nice surprise to see Killing Them Softly pop up. That film hasn’t gotten a lot of good press, but I’m willing to give Dominik the benefit of the doubt after Jesse James. I’m optimistic on that film–nice to finally catch a ray of hope.
    I’m a unrepentant lover of feel-bad cinema but, glancing through the great films that came out this year, I’m sort of shocked by the unrelenting existential dread. Where was our head at this year?

  2. corym

    I’ve been reading the site long enough that I’m not completely surprised by these lists, but it was a nice surprise to see Killing Them Softly pop up. That film hasn’t gotten a lot of good press, but I’m willing to give Dominik the benefit of the doubt after Jesse James. I’m optimistic on that film–nice to finally catch a ray of hope.
    I’m a unrepentant lover of feel-bad cinema but, glancing through the great films that came out this year, I’m sort of shocked by the unrelenting existential dread. Where was our head at this year?

  3. corym

    I’ve been reading the site long enough that I’m not completely surprised by these lists, but it was a nice surprise to see Killing Them Softly pop up. That film hasn’t gotten a lot of good press, but I’m willing to give Dominik the benefit of the doubt after Jesse James. I’m optimistic on that film–nice to finally catch a ray of hope.
    I’m a unrepentant lover of feel-bad cinema but, glancing through the great films that came out this year, I’m sort of shocked by the unrelenting existential dread. Where was our head at this year?

  4. Steve Martin

    I’ve also been reading the site long enough to be completely shocked by this year’s praise of bullshit “art for art’s sake” that can’t hold a candle to anything Lynch. And where are the mentions, good or bad, anywhere of Chaw’s boy Affleck and his “Argo”, or “Life of Pi”, “Looper” etc.? Too mainstream for you guys, or no, rather too obvious of contenders since Mr. Chambers actually wrote that “The Grey” is “The most emotionally authentic film about death since Rob Zombie’s Halloween II.” That is LMFAO, sexy and you know it pretentious wankery. Actually, I think I said best when I said:
    “I believe entertainment can aspire to be art, and can become art, but if you set out to make art you’re an idiot.”
    Love ya,
    Steve

  5. Steve Martin

    I’ve also been reading the site long enough to be completely shocked by this year’s praise of bullshit “art for art’s sake” that can’t hold a candle to anything Lynch. And where are the mentions, good or bad, anywhere of Chaw’s boy Affleck and his “Argo”, or “Life of Pi”, “Looper” etc.? Too mainstream for you guys, or no, rather too obvious of contenders since Mr. Chambers actually wrote that “The Grey” is “The most emotionally authentic film about death since Rob Zombie’s Halloween II.” That is LMFAO, sexy and you know it pretentious wankery. Actually, I think I said best when I said:
    “I believe entertainment can aspire to be art, and can become art, but if you set out to make art you’re an idiot.”
    Love ya,
    Steve

  6. Steve Martin

    I’ve also been reading the site long enough to be completely shocked by this year’s praise of bullshit “art for art’s sake” that can’t hold a candle to anything Lynch. And where are the mentions, good or bad, anywhere of Chaw’s boy Affleck and his “Argo”, or “Life of Pi”, “Looper” etc.? Too mainstream for you guys, or no, rather too obvious of contenders since Mr. Chambers actually wrote that “The Grey” is “The most emotionally authentic film about death since Rob Zombie’s Halloween II.” That is LMFAO, sexy and you know it pretentious wankery. Actually, I think I said best when I said:
    “I believe entertainment can aspire to be art, and can become art, but if you set out to make art you’re an idiot.”
    Love ya,
    Steve

  7. ChrisA

    I’d been waiting excitedly for this, and it doesn’t disappoint. Another great, surprising list from some great, surprising critics. Thanks!

  8. ChrisA

    I’d been waiting excitedly for this, and it doesn’t disappoint. Another great, surprising list from some great, surprising critics. Thanks!

  9. ChrisA

    I’d been waiting excitedly for this, and it doesn’t disappoint. Another great, surprising list from some great, surprising critics. Thanks!

  10. corym

    @Steve
    Calls someone pretentious then quotes himself. You can’t make that shit up.

  11. corym

    @Steve
    Calls someone pretentious then quotes himself. You can’t make that shit up.

  12. corym

    @Steve
    Calls someone pretentious then quotes himself. You can’t make that shit up.

  13. tom

    delighted to see wuthering heights so high on walter’s list. 🙂 holy motors & this is not a film seem to be pretty unanimously the films of the year among the better critics knocking about, can’t wait for both.
    what happened to ian pugh? i liked that guy.

  14. tom

    delighted to see wuthering heights so high on walter’s list. 🙂 holy motors & this is not a film seem to be pretty unanimously the films of the year among the better critics knocking about, can’t wait for both.
    what happened to ian pugh? i liked that guy.

  15. tom

    delighted to see wuthering heights so high on walter’s list. 🙂 holy motors & this is not a film seem to be pretty unanimously the films of the year among the better critics knocking about, can’t wait for both.
    what happened to ian pugh? i liked that guy.

  16. tom

    this is pretty unreadably formatted BTW, just sayin’.

  17. tom

    this is pretty unreadably formatted BTW, just sayin’.

  18. tom

    this is pretty unreadably formatted BTW, just sayin’.

  19. Slick McFavorite

    @ corym
    yeah. I don’t doubt you can’t

  20. Slick McFavorite

    @ corym
    yeah. I don’t doubt you can’t

  21. Slick McFavorite

    @ corym
    yeah. I don’t doubt you can’t

  22. Johnny Cade

    Uh guys, I think that’s a quote from “the” Steve Martin. Guess he likes the site too, “The Jerk”. 😉

  23. Johnny Cade

    Uh guys, I think that’s a quote from “the” Steve Martin. Guess he likes the site too, “The Jerk”. 😉

  24. Johnny Cade

    Uh guys, I think that’s a quote from “the” Steve Martin. Guess he likes the site too, “The Jerk”. 😉

  25. I had to forego the chance to see Wuthering Heights and meet Andrea Arnold at last year’s Foyle Film Festival in my home town of Derry-Londonderry. How I wish things had been different now. As an aside: did anyone catch A Royal Affair? It’s been very well received on these shores.

  26. I had to forego the chance to see Wuthering Heights and meet Andrea Arnold at last year’s Foyle Film Festival in my home town of Derry-Londonderry. How I wish things had been different now. As an aside: did anyone catch A Royal Affair? It’s been very well received on these shores.

  27. I had to forego the chance to see Wuthering Heights and meet Andrea Arnold at last year’s Foyle Film Festival in my home town of Derry-Londonderry. How I wish things had been different now. As an aside: did anyone catch A Royal Affair? It’s been very well received on these shores.

  28. @Simon: I liked it. It’s…sturdy. And Mikkelsen gives good stern face. Should be a capsule by me in the TIFF archives.

  29. @Simon: I liked it. It’s…sturdy. And Mikkelsen gives good stern face. Should be a capsule by me in the TIFF archives.

  30. @Simon: I liked it. It’s…sturdy. And Mikkelsen gives good stern face. Should be a capsule by me in the TIFF archives.

  31. Chris

    Well, at least Walter acknowledges that he’s got an echo chamber. That he loves it is no surprise to anyone who has ever visited his Twitter account. Why listen to constructive criticism when you and your simpering Chawlettes can spend all day ragging on the bumpkins? And yes, I have stuck with you for a period of time, and yes, unfortunately, I do know your predilections. So much promise, so much ego. Now eviscerate my post quickly and then go back to passive-aggressively re-tweeting negative reviews of movies you profess not to care about for the next six months.

  32. Chris

    Well, at least Walter acknowledges that he’s got an echo chamber. That he loves it is no surprise to anyone who has ever visited his Twitter account. Why listen to constructive criticism when you and your simpering Chawlettes can spend all day ragging on the bumpkins? And yes, I have stuck with you for a period of time, and yes, unfortunately, I do know your predilections. So much promise, so much ego. Now eviscerate my post quickly and then go back to passive-aggressively re-tweeting negative reviews of movies you profess not to care about for the next six months.

  33. Chris

    Well, at least Walter acknowledges that he’s got an echo chamber. That he loves it is no surprise to anyone who has ever visited his Twitter account. Why listen to constructive criticism when you and your simpering Chawlettes can spend all day ragging on the bumpkins? And yes, I have stuck with you for a period of time, and yes, unfortunately, I do know your predilections. So much promise, so much ego. Now eviscerate my post quickly and then go back to passive-aggressively re-tweeting negative reviews of movies you profess not to care about for the next six months.

  34. tom

    ego is the only plausible motivation behind the snark in your own post, chris.

  35. tom

    ego is the only plausible motivation behind the snark in your own post, chris.

  36. tom

    ego is the only plausible motivation behind the snark in your own post, chris.

  37. Gee Chris, heaven forbid Walter might have been using “echo-chamber” as a metaphor for art as a mirror to the soul, as opposed to a metaphor for internet argument. Let me guess which one is more important in your world. And as for passive-aggressive, methinks you could do with a mirror yourself….

  38. Gee Chris, heaven forbid Walter might have been using “echo-chamber” as a metaphor for art as a mirror to the soul, as opposed to a metaphor for internet argument. Let me guess which one is more important in your world. And as for passive-aggressive, methinks you could do with a mirror yourself….

  39. Gee Chris, heaven forbid Walter might have been using “echo-chamber” as a metaphor for art as a mirror to the soul, as opposed to a metaphor for internet argument. Let me guess which one is more important in your world. And as for passive-aggressive, methinks you could do with a mirror yourself….

  40. Hugh

    I agree with you about the nature of Top 10 lists, Walter, so I’d like to nominate Berberian Sound Studio as one of the best unknown films of last year. I don’t think it had a wide release outside of the UK, apart from being available to view online (which would undermine the point of the film, I think). Features a great central performance by Toby Jones (the ‘good’ Capote, and apparently also the ‘good’ Hitchcock now), and a wonderful use of sound design. I think watching it would be an even deeper experience for someone steeped in 70’s Italian horror cinema, but I found it immensely satisfying.

  41. Hugh

    I agree with you about the nature of Top 10 lists, Walter, so I’d like to nominate Berberian Sound Studio as one of the best unknown films of last year. I don’t think it had a wide release outside of the UK, apart from being available to view online (which would undermine the point of the film, I think). Features a great central performance by Toby Jones (the ‘good’ Capote, and apparently also the ‘good’ Hitchcock now), and a wonderful use of sound design. I think watching it would be an even deeper experience for someone steeped in 70’s Italian horror cinema, but I found it immensely satisfying.

  42. Hugh

    I agree with you about the nature of Top 10 lists, Walter, so I’d like to nominate Berberian Sound Studio as one of the best unknown films of last year. I don’t think it had a wide release outside of the UK, apart from being available to view online (which would undermine the point of the film, I think). Features a great central performance by Toby Jones (the ‘good’ Capote, and apparently also the ‘good’ Hitchcock now), and a wonderful use of sound design. I think watching it would be an even deeper experience for someone steeped in 70’s Italian horror cinema, but I found it immensely satisfying.

  43. Chris

    Gee, Justin, I guess I don’t see the difference. But that must be because I don’t use words like “metaphor” and “mirrors to the soul” enough. And if you think Walter is above Internet arguments, “methinks” you have probably spent less time reading him than me, or willfully ignoring certain aspects of his character. But I’m sure that’s different because they all had it coming (just like me… but not like Walter who, clearly, is above reproach). I on the other hand just love arguments and hate those nasty soul mirror things. You want to prove you’re the bigger man? Put your money where your mouth is and let me have the last, bitter word.

  44. Chris

    Gee, Justin, I guess I don’t see the difference. But that must be because I don’t use words like “metaphor” and “mirrors to the soul” enough. And if you think Walter is above Internet arguments, “methinks” you have probably spent less time reading him than me, or willfully ignoring certain aspects of his character. But I’m sure that’s different because they all had it coming (just like me… but not like Walter who, clearly, is above reproach). I on the other hand just love arguments and hate those nasty soul mirror things. You want to prove you’re the bigger man? Put your money where your mouth is and let me have the last, bitter word.

  45. Chris

    Gee, Justin, I guess I don’t see the difference. But that must be because I don’t use words like “metaphor” and “mirrors to the soul” enough. And if you think Walter is above Internet arguments, “methinks” you have probably spent less time reading him than me, or willfully ignoring certain aspects of his character. But I’m sure that’s different because they all had it coming (just like me… but not like Walter who, clearly, is above reproach). I on the other hand just love arguments and hate those nasty soul mirror things. You want to prove you’re the bigger man? Put your money where your mouth is and let me have the last, bitter word.

  46. Slick McFavorite

    btw, Justin, I believe it’s “I think”.

  47. Slick McFavorite

    btw, Justin, I believe it’s “I think”.

  48. Slick McFavorite

    btw, Justin, I believe it’s “I think”.

  49. tom

    for what it’s worth, i’ve seen walter admit he was wrong on multiple occasions, i’ve seen him accept criticism gracefully and i think he shows a greater capacity to have his mind changed, even humbled, by cinema than most other critics around. guy’s nothing if not in love with the medium, in touch with his emotional responses and brutally honest to a fault; he’s in this for the right reasons.
    i’ve also seen him be unnecessarily provocative, snarky or dismissive, and he can be oversensitive in situations when a level head would better serve his arguments, but personally i’m willing to take the bad with the good. it’s not obvious where ‘ego’ stops and ‘passion’ begins; rather have both than neither. also, let’s face it, twitter brings out the worst in everyone. xD

  50. tom

    for what it’s worth, i’ve seen walter admit he was wrong on multiple occasions, i’ve seen him accept criticism gracefully and i think he shows a greater capacity to have his mind changed, even humbled, by cinema than most other critics around. guy’s nothing if not in love with the medium, in touch with his emotional responses and brutally honest to a fault; he’s in this for the right reasons.
    i’ve also seen him be unnecessarily provocative, snarky or dismissive, and he can be oversensitive in situations when a level head would better serve his arguments, but personally i’m willing to take the bad with the good. it’s not obvious where ‘ego’ stops and ‘passion’ begins; rather have both than neither. also, let’s face it, twitter brings out the worst in everyone. xD

  51. tom

    for what it’s worth, i’ve seen walter admit he was wrong on multiple occasions, i’ve seen him accept criticism gracefully and i think he shows a greater capacity to have his mind changed, even humbled, by cinema than most other critics around. guy’s nothing if not in love with the medium, in touch with his emotional responses and brutally honest to a fault; he’s in this for the right reasons.
    i’ve also seen him be unnecessarily provocative, snarky or dismissive, and he can be oversensitive in situations when a level head would better serve his arguments, but personally i’m willing to take the bad with the good. it’s not obvious where ‘ego’ stops and ‘passion’ begins; rather have both than neither. also, let’s face it, twitter brings out the worst in everyone. xD

  52. Dan

    I actually can’t believe this is the first time I’m saying it, and it might not be the last, but…
    FUCK YOU, WALTER – You and your overtly destructive criticism, which you can shove right up your (presumably) fat ass.
    We’ll have to use our imaginations on that last one, since not one picture of you has shown up anywhere online in the last 10 years, at least none I’ve taken the time to find, but I’m betting dollars to donuts that you’re fat, ugly, or both – the bitter, angry kids who think too much usually are. I know I was – once (and then my Dad got a job).
    At least Kael had the balls to show off her wrinkly countenance, and Ebert had the courage to show off his missing jaw. But then, those are courageous people, non-reactionary thinkers who will, thankfully, be far more read than your all-or-nothing, black and white diatribes – love letters to utter bullshit, and shit-flinging at works that – let’s face it, man – you really wish you were fearless enough to make.
    So, to kick off 2013, and in case you missed it –
    GO FUCK YOURSELF.
    I finally said it, but it really doesn’t feel good, because for so long I’ve been praising your critical analyses as potentially worthwhile creative works in themselves. For so long I’ve believed you were the sole light in the darkness of anti-intellectualism in film reviews. But I realize now what a fucking fool I was, and what a fucking tool you are. This last year finally pushed me over the edge.
    To be so so so so SO criminally wrong on at least one of your “Worst” list (and on several of your “Best”) that it defies logic really shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet I’m still reeling. What’s going on here? Why do I give a shit what you think? Why does it get my goat? I’m sure my therapist could tell me, but right now I’m at a total loss.
    It’s no secret “The Dark Knight” and the two Soderberg films you loved were utter twat – no one whose opinion I respect thought different. And after skirting the issue forever, to finally “admit” that Nolan films are “a mess narratively” should have been something of a humble revelation – if you weren’t such a condescending prick about it.
    “Prometheus” was awful in many ways, but at least it was *interesting*. At least it made me think – and not just about its terrible and needlessly convoluted screenplay. It was also visually arresting, a truly cinematic 3D experience that was worth the extra time and money, not to mention putting up with the terrible acting. I’m loathe to admit it, but it stayed with me, much as “Les Mis” will undoubtedly – and maddeningly – stay with me.
    “The Hobbit”, on the other end of the spectrum, I intentionally avoided in 3D, was geared up for the worst, and actually enjoyed the hell out of. Of course it’s an overlong mess (nobody said it was going to be anything else), but it’s a fun, entertaining, popcorn mess, and I had a blast. Not everyone can just let go and have a good time – or at least not everyone can only do so with pretentious pus that no one else likes.
    But all of this is just warm up for “Cloud Atlas”, easily the only movie from 2012 worth talking about that I saw (the jury’s always still out on those obscure art-house pics you and your staff are always jizzing about). To be so inexorably offended at something so grand and beautiful is one thing – but instead of just saying “hey, not my thing” (like you did with that piece of shit “Moonrise Kingdom,” and that I *always* have to with *everything* by the Two Andersons) that you felt the need to *attack* based on your own insular ideas of what constitutes “socially damaging” (likely brought on by what I’m guessing is a truly woeful self-image) is so pathetic that it’s just downright sad.
    Since I’m sure you missed it before (and knowing you’ll probably miss it again) here’s an “anyway” repost of my reaction to your reaction – ego talking to ego most definitely, but, you know, I gotta talk to people in their own language.
    It’s there, just past this piece from The Onion that you (and I) should take a long look in the mirror after reading.

  53. Dan

    I actually can’t believe this is the first time I’m saying it, and it might not be the last, but…
    FUCK YOU, WALTER – You and your overtly destructive criticism, which you can shove right up your (presumably) fat ass.
    We’ll have to use our imaginations on that last one, since not one picture of you has shown up anywhere online in the last 10 years, at least none I’ve taken the time to find, but I’m betting dollars to donuts that you’re fat, ugly, or both – the bitter, angry kids who think too much usually are. I know I was – once (and then my Dad got a job).
    At least Kael had the balls to show off her wrinkly countenance, and Ebert had the courage to show off his missing jaw. But then, those are courageous people, non-reactionary thinkers who will, thankfully, be far more read than your all-or-nothing, black and white diatribes – love letters to utter bullshit, and shit-flinging at works that – let’s face it, man – you really wish you were fearless enough to make.
    So, to kick off 2013, and in case you missed it –
    GO FUCK YOURSELF.
    I finally said it, but it really doesn’t feel good, because for so long I’ve been praising your critical analyses as potentially worthwhile creative works in themselves. For so long I’ve believed you were the sole light in the darkness of anti-intellectualism in film reviews. But I realize now what a fucking fool I was, and what a fucking tool you are. This last year finally pushed me over the edge.
    To be so so so so SO criminally wrong on at least one of your “Worst” list (and on several of your “Best”) that it defies logic really shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet I’m still reeling. What’s going on here? Why do I give a shit what you think? Why does it get my goat? I’m sure my therapist could tell me, but right now I’m at a total loss.
    It’s no secret “The Dark Knight” and the two Soderberg films you loved were utter twat – no one whose opinion I respect thought different. And after skirting the issue forever, to finally “admit” that Nolan films are “a mess narratively” should have been something of a humble revelation – if you weren’t such a condescending prick about it.
    “Prometheus” was awful in many ways, but at least it was *interesting*. At least it made me think – and not just about its terrible and needlessly convoluted screenplay. It was also visually arresting, a truly cinematic 3D experience that was worth the extra time and money, not to mention putting up with the terrible acting. I’m loathe to admit it, but it stayed with me, much as “Les Mis” will undoubtedly – and maddeningly – stay with me.
    “The Hobbit”, on the other end of the spectrum, I intentionally avoided in 3D, was geared up for the worst, and actually enjoyed the hell out of. Of course it’s an overlong mess (nobody said it was going to be anything else), but it’s a fun, entertaining, popcorn mess, and I had a blast. Not everyone can just let go and have a good time – or at least not everyone can only do so with pretentious pus that no one else likes.
    But all of this is just warm up for “Cloud Atlas”, easily the only movie from 2012 worth talking about that I saw (the jury’s always still out on those obscure art-house pics you and your staff are always jizzing about). To be so inexorably offended at something so grand and beautiful is one thing – but instead of just saying “hey, not my thing” (like you did with that piece of shit “Moonrise Kingdom,” and that I *always* have to with *everything* by the Two Andersons) that you felt the need to *attack* based on your own insular ideas of what constitutes “socially damaging” (likely brought on by what I’m guessing is a truly woeful self-image) is so pathetic that it’s just downright sad.
    Since I’m sure you missed it before (and knowing you’ll probably miss it again) here’s an “anyway” repost of my reaction to your reaction – ego talking to ego most definitely, but, you know, I gotta talk to people in their own language.
    It’s there, just past this piece from The Onion that you (and I) should take a long look in the mirror after reading.

  54. Dan

    I actually can’t believe this is the first time I’m saying it, and it might not be the last, but…
    FUCK YOU, WALTER – You and your overtly destructive criticism, which you can shove right up your (presumably) fat ass.
    We’ll have to use our imaginations on that last one, since not one picture of you has shown up anywhere online in the last 10 years, at least none I’ve taken the time to find, but I’m betting dollars to donuts that you’re fat, ugly, or both – the bitter, angry kids who think too much usually are. I know I was – once (and then my Dad got a job).
    At least Kael had the balls to show off her wrinkly countenance, and Ebert had the courage to show off his missing jaw. But then, those are courageous people, non-reactionary thinkers who will, thankfully, be far more read than your all-or-nothing, black and white diatribes – love letters to utter bullshit, and shit-flinging at works that – let’s face it, man – you really wish you were fearless enough to make.
    So, to kick off 2013, and in case you missed it –
    GO FUCK YOURSELF.
    I finally said it, but it really doesn’t feel good, because for so long I’ve been praising your critical analyses as potentially worthwhile creative works in themselves. For so long I’ve believed you were the sole light in the darkness of anti-intellectualism in film reviews. But I realize now what a fucking fool I was, and what a fucking tool you are. This last year finally pushed me over the edge.
    To be so so so so SO criminally wrong on at least one of your “Worst” list (and on several of your “Best”) that it defies logic really shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet I’m still reeling. What’s going on here? Why do I give a shit what you think? Why does it get my goat? I’m sure my therapist could tell me, but right now I’m at a total loss.
    It’s no secret “The Dark Knight” and the two Soderberg films you loved were utter twat – no one whose opinion I respect thought different. And after skirting the issue forever, to finally “admit” that Nolan films are “a mess narratively” should have been something of a humble revelation – if you weren’t such a condescending prick about it.
    “Prometheus” was awful in many ways, but at least it was *interesting*. At least it made me think – and not just about its terrible and needlessly convoluted screenplay. It was also visually arresting, a truly cinematic 3D experience that was worth the extra time and money, not to mention putting up with the terrible acting. I’m loathe to admit it, but it stayed with me, much as “Les Mis” will undoubtedly – and maddeningly – stay with me.
    “The Hobbit”, on the other end of the spectrum, I intentionally avoided in 3D, was geared up for the worst, and actually enjoyed the hell out of. Of course it’s an overlong mess (nobody said it was going to be anything else), but it’s a fun, entertaining, popcorn mess, and I had a blast. Not everyone can just let go and have a good time – or at least not everyone can only do so with pretentious pus that no one else likes.
    But all of this is just warm up for “Cloud Atlas”, easily the only movie from 2012 worth talking about that I saw (the jury’s always still out on those obscure art-house pics you and your staff are always jizzing about). To be so inexorably offended at something so grand and beautiful is one thing – but instead of just saying “hey, not my thing” (like you did with that piece of shit “Moonrise Kingdom,” and that I *always* have to with *everything* by the Two Andersons) that you felt the need to *attack* based on your own insular ideas of what constitutes “socially damaging” (likely brought on by what I’m guessing is a truly woeful self-image) is so pathetic that it’s just downright sad.
    Since I’m sure you missed it before (and knowing you’ll probably miss it again) here’s an “anyway” repost of my reaction to your reaction – ego talking to ego most definitely, but, you know, I gotta talk to people in their own language.
    It’s there, just past this piece from The Onion that you (and I) should take a long look in the mirror after reading.

  55. Dan

    http://www.theonion.com/articles/im-sorry-but-ive-had-just-about-enough-of-me,30925/
    ———————————
    This movie was beautiful, exciting, and it moved me greatly. I’ll take an incredibly mounted, flawed amalgam of both pretentious and sentimental philosophy with beautifully-paced action (such as this or “Watchmen”), over excrescently boring, pretentious dogshit about absolutely nothing (like “The Fountain”, “The New World”, and “The InnKeepers”, all of which Walter seems to love because they… why? Actually, I’m sorry. Seriously. Why the fuck?) any day of the week.
    And the reason the same actors played different characters is – ya know – kinda built into the premise of cyclical human history and reincarnation? Not always successfully done, but not real difficult to understand why it was attempted. Yes, the philosophy is simple, though not all of it naive – just as simply because something is convoluted and complicated on the surface doesn’t automatically make it inherently worthy of study.
    I agree with Kevin that there was no Magic Negro. He was a good sailor, and a perceptively good (not to mention hot) friend who changed someone’s mind about slavery. That’s it. How is that offensive? And when contained within it is commentary that seems intrinsic to the overall themes of the whole movie, how is that storyline not worth pursuing?
    There was, of course, no need for black face. But in all honestly, I wouldn’t have been opposed to it, though I am white so admittedly disqualified from even proffering that as an option. The only reason they didn’t do it while continuing to do yellowface was not because they couldn’t have done it without being culturally insensitive, but because Al Sharpton and Spike Lee would have had a field day, and there are (fortunately) no Asian equivalents to those ass-clowns.
    That the Wachowskis self-financed this gives me a little fucking hope that someone, somewhere is committed to making large-budget movies that challenge us with big ideas wrapped in equally challenging, but always exciting, narratives – not just commercial monstrosities that challenge us to keep our IQs, or to stay awake.
    The fact that Walter has the nerve to make comparisons to reference to Solzhenitsyn’s imprisonment in the middle of this as a form of irony, but not the nail-clawing actual prison sequence in the middle of horrendously interminable – and boring as all shit – “The Dark Knight Rises”, is selective fucking memory if I’ve ever seen it.
    Oh, and “The Field Where I Died” might have made even *me* cry, but that was rightfully considered one of the worst, most boring episodes of “The X Files” produced during the Duchovny years. I’ll give him this – for the kind of work he heaps praise on, at least Walter’s consistent.
    Just didn’t realize he was so sensitive about critics being attacked. There, there, Jon Lovitz. Perhaps we should all grow a thicker skin.

  56. Dan

    http://www.theonion.com/articles/im-sorry-but-ive-had-just-about-enough-of-me,30925/
    ———————————
    This movie was beautiful, exciting, and it moved me greatly. I’ll take an incredibly mounted, flawed amalgam of both pretentious and sentimental philosophy with beautifully-paced action (such as this or “Watchmen”), over excrescently boring, pretentious dogshit about absolutely nothing (like “The Fountain”, “The New World”, and “The InnKeepers”, all of which Walter seems to love because they… why? Actually, I’m sorry. Seriously. Why the fuck?) any day of the week.
    And the reason the same actors played different characters is – ya know – kinda built into the premise of cyclical human history and reincarnation? Not always successfully done, but not real difficult to understand why it was attempted. Yes, the philosophy is simple, though not all of it naive – just as simply because something is convoluted and complicated on the surface doesn’t automatically make it inherently worthy of study.
    I agree with Kevin that there was no Magic Negro. He was a good sailor, and a perceptively good (not to mention hot) friend who changed someone’s mind about slavery. That’s it. How is that offensive? And when contained within it is commentary that seems intrinsic to the overall themes of the whole movie, how is that storyline not worth pursuing?
    There was, of course, no need for black face. But in all honestly, I wouldn’t have been opposed to it, though I am white so admittedly disqualified from even proffering that as an option. The only reason they didn’t do it while continuing to do yellowface was not because they couldn’t have done it without being culturally insensitive, but because Al Sharpton and Spike Lee would have had a field day, and there are (fortunately) no Asian equivalents to those ass-clowns.
    That the Wachowskis self-financed this gives me a little fucking hope that someone, somewhere is committed to making large-budget movies that challenge us with big ideas wrapped in equally challenging, but always exciting, narratives – not just commercial monstrosities that challenge us to keep our IQs, or to stay awake.
    The fact that Walter has the nerve to make comparisons to reference to Solzhenitsyn’s imprisonment in the middle of this as a form of irony, but not the nail-clawing actual prison sequence in the middle of horrendously interminable – and boring as all shit – “The Dark Knight Rises”, is selective fucking memory if I’ve ever seen it.
    Oh, and “The Field Where I Died” might have made even *me* cry, but that was rightfully considered one of the worst, most boring episodes of “The X Files” produced during the Duchovny years. I’ll give him this – for the kind of work he heaps praise on, at least Walter’s consistent.
    Just didn’t realize he was so sensitive about critics being attacked. There, there, Jon Lovitz. Perhaps we should all grow a thicker skin.

  57. Dan

    http://www.theonion.com/articles/im-sorry-but-ive-had-just-about-enough-of-me,30925/
    ———————————
    This movie was beautiful, exciting, and it moved me greatly. I’ll take an incredibly mounted, flawed amalgam of both pretentious and sentimental philosophy with beautifully-paced action (such as this or “Watchmen”), over excrescently boring, pretentious dogshit about absolutely nothing (like “The Fountain”, “The New World”, and “The InnKeepers”, all of which Walter seems to love because they… why? Actually, I’m sorry. Seriously. Why the fuck?) any day of the week.
    And the reason the same actors played different characters is – ya know – kinda built into the premise of cyclical human history and reincarnation? Not always successfully done, but not real difficult to understand why it was attempted. Yes, the philosophy is simple, though not all of it naive – just as simply because something is convoluted and complicated on the surface doesn’t automatically make it inherently worthy of study.
    I agree with Kevin that there was no Magic Negro. He was a good sailor, and a perceptively good (not to mention hot) friend who changed someone’s mind about slavery. That’s it. How is that offensive? And when contained within it is commentary that seems intrinsic to the overall themes of the whole movie, how is that storyline not worth pursuing?
    There was, of course, no need for black face. But in all honestly, I wouldn’t have been opposed to it, though I am white so admittedly disqualified from even proffering that as an option. The only reason they didn’t do it while continuing to do yellowface was not because they couldn’t have done it without being culturally insensitive, but because Al Sharpton and Spike Lee would have had a field day, and there are (fortunately) no Asian equivalents to those ass-clowns.
    That the Wachowskis self-financed this gives me a little fucking hope that someone, somewhere is committed to making large-budget movies that challenge us with big ideas wrapped in equally challenging, but always exciting, narratives – not just commercial monstrosities that challenge us to keep our IQs, or to stay awake.
    The fact that Walter has the nerve to make comparisons to reference to Solzhenitsyn’s imprisonment in the middle of this as a form of irony, but not the nail-clawing actual prison sequence in the middle of horrendously interminable – and boring as all shit – “The Dark Knight Rises”, is selective fucking memory if I’ve ever seen it.
    Oh, and “The Field Where I Died” might have made even *me* cry, but that was rightfully considered one of the worst, most boring episodes of “The X Files” produced during the Duchovny years. I’ll give him this – for the kind of work he heaps praise on, at least Walter’s consistent.
    Just didn’t realize he was so sensitive about critics being attacked. There, there, Jon Lovitz. Perhaps we should all grow a thicker skin.

  58. tom

    lol. somebody forgot to take their meds

  59. tom

    lol. somebody forgot to take their meds

  60. tom

    lol. somebody forgot to take their meds

  61. RJH

    Dan, if you’re trying to be taken seriously and not just venting then the cheap jabs about Walter’s presumed appearance (and…lack of pictures on the Internet?) as well as the angry yelling don’t help. Even if you have a point worth making there’s no way anyone’s going to pay much attention when you’re screaming.

  62. RJH

    Dan, if you’re trying to be taken seriously and not just venting then the cheap jabs about Walter’s presumed appearance (and…lack of pictures on the Internet?) as well as the angry yelling don’t help. Even if you have a point worth making there’s no way anyone’s going to pay much attention when you’re screaming.

  63. RJH

    Dan, if you’re trying to be taken seriously and not just venting then the cheap jabs about Walter’s presumed appearance (and…lack of pictures on the Internet?) as well as the angry yelling don’t help. Even if you have a point worth making there’s no way anyone’s going to pay much attention when you’re screaming.

  64. Dan

    @RJH,
    At this point, I don’t care to be taken seriously on this or any site, especially since I doubt anyone gives a shit what I think. Which is as it should be – I’m not a published writer (presently), and I’m certainly no movie critic (thank fucking God).
    But speaking of “seriously,” you honestly think *I’m* yelling and screaming? Good lord, have you read what people write on these things? Go on Yahoo! and read any average forum response and try to maintain your respect for human decency. At least I’m not a fucking halfwit. I would say, in fact, that while I’m nowhere near his intellectual equal, I’m just as bitter, mean, and spiteful as Walter is in virtually every one of his reviews – except for the ones where we need tread carefully, lest we slip on his spilled semen.
    Oh, and I did finally find a picture of our dear old critic. Just as I suspected – Big fat fucking shocker.
    I might feel badly pointing this out, except that I have to hear how hot he thinks every other actress is (I distinctly remember him commenting on how much he wanted to fuck someone – probably Naomi Watts. The image is not a pleasant one.) Shallowness abounds, and I’m not above pointing out the fat nerdy asshole for what he is. Because, as I said, that used to be me. (Maybe the asshole part never went away – but if not, then I’m in very good company).
    The bottom line is that I actually care a LOT about film (hence all the vitriol and emotion), so if my open divorce letter to Walter was bitter and mean, it’s because I clearly care that much.
    And on that note… I’m off to write movies and shows that I now truly, genuinely hope Walter totally hates. ‘Cause if and when that happens, I will feel vindicated not only that I’m making stuff *I* like, but that I’ll actually have made something – not just pissed all over someone else’s shit.

  65. Dan

    @RJH,
    At this point, I don’t care to be taken seriously on this or any site, especially since I doubt anyone gives a shit what I think. Which is as it should be – I’m not a published writer (presently), and I’m certainly no movie critic (thank fucking God).
    But speaking of “seriously,” you honestly think *I’m* yelling and screaming? Good lord, have you read what people write on these things? Go on Yahoo! and read any average forum response and try to maintain your respect for human decency. At least I’m not a fucking halfwit. I would say, in fact, that while I’m nowhere near his intellectual equal, I’m just as bitter, mean, and spiteful as Walter is in virtually every one of his reviews – except for the ones where we need tread carefully, lest we slip on his spilled semen.
    Oh, and I did finally find a picture of our dear old critic. Just as I suspected – Big fat fucking shocker.
    I might feel badly pointing this out, except that I have to hear how hot he thinks every other actress is (I distinctly remember him commenting on how much he wanted to fuck someone – probably Naomi Watts. The image is not a pleasant one.) Shallowness abounds, and I’m not above pointing out the fat nerdy asshole for what he is. Because, as I said, that used to be me. (Maybe the asshole part never went away – but if not, then I’m in very good company).
    The bottom line is that I actually care a LOT about film (hence all the vitriol and emotion), so if my open divorce letter to Walter was bitter and mean, it’s because I clearly care that much.
    And on that note… I’m off to write movies and shows that I now truly, genuinely hope Walter totally hates. ‘Cause if and when that happens, I will feel vindicated not only that I’m making stuff *I* like, but that I’ll actually have made something – not just pissed all over someone else’s shit.

  66. Dan

    @RJH,
    At this point, I don’t care to be taken seriously on this or any site, especially since I doubt anyone gives a shit what I think. Which is as it should be – I’m not a published writer (presently), and I’m certainly no movie critic (thank fucking God).
    But speaking of “seriously,” you honestly think *I’m* yelling and screaming? Good lord, have you read what people write on these things? Go on Yahoo! and read any average forum response and try to maintain your respect for human decency. At least I’m not a fucking halfwit. I would say, in fact, that while I’m nowhere near his intellectual equal, I’m just as bitter, mean, and spiteful as Walter is in virtually every one of his reviews – except for the ones where we need tread carefully, lest we slip on his spilled semen.
    Oh, and I did finally find a picture of our dear old critic. Just as I suspected – Big fat fucking shocker.
    I might feel badly pointing this out, except that I have to hear how hot he thinks every other actress is (I distinctly remember him commenting on how much he wanted to fuck someone – probably Naomi Watts. The image is not a pleasant one.) Shallowness abounds, and I’m not above pointing out the fat nerdy asshole for what he is. Because, as I said, that used to be me. (Maybe the asshole part never went away – but if not, then I’m in very good company).
    The bottom line is that I actually care a LOT about film (hence all the vitriol and emotion), so if my open divorce letter to Walter was bitter and mean, it’s because I clearly care that much.
    And on that note… I’m off to write movies and shows that I now truly, genuinely hope Walter totally hates. ‘Cause if and when that happens, I will feel vindicated not only that I’m making stuff *I* like, but that I’ll actually have made something – not just pissed all over someone else’s shit.

  67. One day, Walter Chaw, I’m gonna be a big time movie writer (even though I am not a published writer, presently), and I’m gonna write movies that will make so much money that your piddly one-star reviews won’t even matter! And then you’ll be sorry! You’ll be sorry!!!!

  68. One day, Walter Chaw, I’m gonna be a big time movie writer (even though I am not a published writer, presently), and I’m gonna write movies that will make so much money that your piddly one-star reviews won’t even matter! And then you’ll be sorry! You’ll be sorry!!!!

  69. One day, Walter Chaw, I’m gonna be a big time movie writer (even though I am not a published writer, presently), and I’m gonna write movies that will make so much money that your piddly one-star reviews won’t even matter! And then you’ll be sorry! You’ll be sorry!!!!

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