Let's pretend that I posted something yesterday, and I'm off to a great start in my firestorm of content. Can we do that? I think we can do that.
20. Mystic River (2003)
-directed by Clint Eastwood
If nothing else, see Mystic River for its acting. Featuring an ensemble comprised of Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Marcia Gay Harden, Laura Linney, Kevin Bacon, Laurence Fishburn, Emmy Rossum, and supremely underrated young actor Tom Guiry, Mystic River could very well be the most well-acted film of the decade. Bring some tissues, though, as this movie is anything but cheery. The plot centers around three adults who were friends in their youth (played by Penn, Bacon, and Robbins): one day, one of the children is kidnapped and held for nefarious purposes (screw discretion: molestation). The film explores how that one event creates a maelstrom of chaos that tears through otherwise happy lives. The spark that ignites the forest fire comes when Penn's daughter is murdered on the same night that Robbins (the child-abuse victim) comes home with blood on his hands. I won't explain any further, so as to avoid spoilers, but, to quote my Twitter feed, "this shit's intense." Sean Penn and Tim Robbins receive most of the acting accolades, and rightly so, but one of the stand-outs for me was young Tom Guiry, who plays the murder victim's boyfriend, who becomes the first suspect. The scene in which he finds out about his girlfriend's death, and confesses that he was going to marry her, is utterly heartbreaking. Hell, this whole movie is. Doesn't mean it's not a great movie, though.
19. WALL-E (2008)
-directed by Andrew Stanton
Sometimes, the simplest concepts are the most difficult to execute, the easiest to screw up, and the least attempted kind of film. Sometimes, though, the simplest concept is the best movie. WALL-E has a premise any child could, and does understand it: boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy and girl save the day. Who cares if the boy is a trash compactor and the girl is a glorified iPod? These are the movies, dammit. WALL-E has to be one of the bravest films in recent memory, in that it refrains from dialogue for almost half of the film. This, especially coming from a purported 'children's movie,' is astounding. Too often, movies attempt to cover up lack of content with quick editing, or an overload of content, or a frenetic pace. WALL-E is quiet, controlled, and methodical; it has enough faith in its material to sell itself. The film has plenty of time for small moments of sublime beauty: WALL-E and EVE watching the sun set over burning oil tankers, WALL-E trailing his hand through a planet's ice-ring, and, of course, the 'define dancing' scene, in which the two heroes simply move through space to music. It all sounds so very elementary, but it creates moments of pure magic. That the rest of the film is spectacular doesn't hurt, either: WALL-E looks better than any animated movie I've ever seen, no doubt partly because of cinematographer Roger Deakins' (aka God's) help with the film's look. The design, as well, is utterly engrossing. Every frame of WALL-E has something inventive, creative, beautiful, and worth seeing. And you know what? The film works wonderfully on an emotional level. The plight of WALL-E and EVE moved me far more than any of their more serious, live-action counterparts of 2008. Jamal and Latika can suck it. Benjamin and Daisy can go cry to their mothers. I don't even want to get started on Frost and Nixon. My heart belonged to a little trash compactor and his iPod.
18. Before Sunset (2004)
-directed by Richard Linklater
This recommendation comes with one corollary: to fully appreciate Before Sunset, you must first see its 90s predecessor, Before Sunrise. With its companion piece, Before Sunset reveals itself to be one of the most intelligent, bittersweet treatises on young love, failed expectations, and the slow acceptance of reality ever made. In the first film, Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy), spend one night together in Vienna. They're young, they're in love, and they think that doing such pedestrian things as exchanging numbers or contact information will dim the passion of their experience. Instead, they agree to meet again in Vienna in exactly six months time. In Before Sunset, Jesse and Celine meet at a book store in Paris, ten years later. The entire film consists of them walking around in real time, having a conversation. But my God, it's a conversation worth hearing. They start simply: catching up on each other's lives, finding out what kind of person they've each become, but all too soon, the bare threads of their lives begin to show, and they confess that the lives they've led aren't the lives they wanted to lead. Restrained, slightly sad, and more than a little autobiographical, Before Sunset perfectly captures the way that reality slowly takes the place of dreams, until the dreams are forgotten and the reality is set in stone. It's almost impossible to describe this film and do it justice: Watch Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. Together, they're hardly longer than the second Transformers movie, and they are much, much more worth your time.
17. The Departed (2006)
-directed by Martin Scorsese
The Departed is all kinetic energy. Despite its run-time of over two hours, The Departed chases, jumps, turns, dashes, and fights through to the end, attacking the viewer like a whirlwind. Scorsese is one of the most gifted working directors, and, for The Departed, he leaves everything he has at the altar of cinema. This film's complicated web of plot threads, involving lies, deceptions, and hidden identities, is easily navigated, thanks to a literate, concise script, a sure directorial and editing hand, and virtuoso performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon. The movie is jam-packed with memorable sequences: the chase to the roof-top, fueled by mistaken identities and ended in a moment of sudden violence, the shoot-out in the warehouse, and, of course, the blood-soaked finale, which will simply blow your mind (for readers who've seen the movie, I really do apologize for such an aggressive pun).
16. The Hurt Locker (2009)
-directed by Kathryn Bigelow
How does she get away with it? Kathryn Bigelow has created a movie that just seems to ooze contradictions, but somehow, improbably, it all works. The film is so quiet in its issues that some have labeled it completely apolitical, yet it's almost impossible to walk out of this film without understanding what it was trying to convey. It's a film of staggering dramatic impact, but seems to be based entirely on action sequences. The movie has little to no plot: it's a string of vignettes that happen to the same characters, yet it feels like it's telling one hell of a story. How does it all work? Maybe it's the talent involved: Kathryn Bigelow is nothing short of a genius, and brings an uncompromising artistic sensibility to the movie. It could be the acting: Jeremy Renner delivers one of the best performances of 2009, as do Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty in supporting roles. Perhaps it's the cinematography of Barry Ackroyd, which is beautiful while appearing pedestrian (yet another contradiction), and the editing of Bob Murawski and Chris Innis, which is laser-focused and intense. I don't know. It's probably all of these things. The Hurt Locker gathers a bevy of disparaging elements and fuses them into something elementally profound, pulse-pounding, and moving.
15. Hotel Rwanda (2004)
-directed by Terry George
Dramatizing a genocide isn't easy. There's something about the murder of millions that just seems...hard to bring to the screen convincingly. Maybe it's the fact that crimes occurring on a scale so large are almost impossible to fathom; that any attempts at drama will be met with skepticism. Hotel Rwanda manages the subject with dignity and grace. I think much of its success comes from the decision to compartmentalize and reduce the scale of the events portrayed: director Terry George uses the events happening at the Milles Collines hotel to represent the event as a whole. Amazingly, it works. We almost never leave the confines of the hotel, yet are given a clear, resonant picture of the chaos that happens outside its walls. Indeed, setting the film at the Milles Collines has an ancillary benefit: as the story is ultimately one of hope, its body count is relatively low. To create a more graphic representation of the Rwandan genocide would have been too much for most viewers. Luckily for us, the story is one of hope and redemption. If every death is a tragedy, than every life saved is a miracle. Hotel Rwanda is in the business of miracles, and, after watching the film, it's hard not to feel like you got your money's worth of miracles.
14. Moulin Rouge! (2001)
-directed by Baz Luhrmann
I really don't know how to approach this film objectively. This was one of the keystone movies of my adolescence, in that I watched it early, loved it, and watched it again and again. There's something in the pulsing energy, the frenetic but not chaotic pitch, the perfect balance of sublime silliness and melodrama-level tragedy, that just draws me in. And why shouldn't it? Moulin Rouge! is a spectacularly well-made film: everything looks great, everything works great. The music numbers are inspired, the performances are pitch-perfect, and the story is, if not dazzlingly original, dazzling in its execution. And you know what? This movie is just plain fun. Not all of it, admittedly, but the parts that go for levity pay off wonderfully. The movie is compelling drama: though I've since moved past such a phase, my sister still cries every time she watches it, even though she's seen it more times than is possible to count with all her fingers and toes. Moulin Rouge! is a bit silly, but it knows that, it embraces that, and it uses that to its advantage. The film's heart is in exactly the right place: it breathes beauty, freedom, truth, and love, and encourages all viewers to do the same.
13. Synecdoche, New York (2008)
-directed by Charlie Kaufman
Here's a misunderstood masterpiece if there ever was one. On its release, Synecdoche, New York was dismissed as thick, difficult, and nearly incomprehensible. Only Roger Ebert stood on its side, and recently christened it the best film of the decade in his version of the list I'm transcribing now. Well, to put it simply: Roger Ebert is right, the other critics are stupid. End of story. Now, I'm not saying that Synecdoche, New York is easy: I've seen it at least six times since its release, and I'll be damned if I can tell you what actually happens in the movie. On the surface, it tells the story of theater director Caden Cotard, who attempts to stage a play encompassing the entirety of the human experience. I'm not even going to attempt to describe what happens from there, but, honestly, it's irrelevant. It doesn't matter. The whole is less relevant than the sum of its parts. Each scene is beautifully crafted, well acted, and, above all, exquisitely written. I honestly think this could be the greatest screenplay ever written. Writer/director Charlie Kaufman imbues his scenes with such tenderness, such insight, that they become poetry. The last monologue of the film deserves to be recognized as a genuine piece of literature, and treated as such. Who cares if everyone who watches this film doesn't understand every part of it? There's something worthwhile here for everyone; more than something. Lots of things. Synecdoche, New York is an abyss which, if one stares long enough, will begin to stare back.
12. Waltz With Bashir (2008)
-directed by Ari Folman
For me, Waltz With Bashir is the cinematic equivalent of a sucker punch to the stomach. No, more than that: it's being beaten by a baseball bat, it's being obliterated by a locomotive. It's having your soul sucked out through your teeth. Sounds fun, right? Waltz With Bashir is possibly the only film of its kind: it's an animated documentary that uses a macabre, surrealist lens to make sense of a massacre. The visuals are astounding. From the opening moment, in which a wild dog charges down the street, to the closing shot, in which the viewer's animation safety net has been brutally substituted for live action, Waltz With Bashir provides an endless parade of moments both horrifying and fascinating in their combination of unspeakable crimes and surreal beauty. The scene, roughly twenty minutes into the film, in which a young Ari Folman and his two friends in the war rise out of the sea to approach a screaming crowd, illuminated by flares, still sticks with me. I don't know how to describe this movie, visually speaking. It's completely unique. It's fascinating. It's unsettling. The whole film strikes an uncanny balance between interest and revulsion: through the unreal medium of animation, Waltz With Bashir strikes at the heart of how much can go wrong in a world fueled by the dark side of human nature.
11. Gosford Park (2001)
-directed by Robert Altman
Alright, it's time for a tempo change. Gosford Park isn't exactly a feel-good comedy, but it's much brighter than the past few entries. Even if it's a murder mystery. The point isn't the murder here: the point is the complex web of human interaction that takes place between the rich guests of a hunting party in 1930s England, the servants of its well-staffed house, and the flashpoints of conflict when the two socioeconomic worlds merge. Gosford Park is one of the most engaging, complex, witty, labyrinthine films I've seen in a long time. It's almost impossible to grasp the full implications of every action on first viewing, but even for the casual viewer there's many a gem to be found. The acting ensemble is both gigantic and talented: Maggie Smith, Helen Mirren, Clive Owen, Kelly MacDonald, Emily Watson, and Michael Gambon immediately stand out in my mind, but this could because their names are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. Gosford Park contains no bad performances, and almost no mediocre ones (sorry, Ryan Phillipe). The web of humanity that the script casts is almost impossibly interesting: I feel like I could watch this movie every day for a year and find something new every time. Robert Altman, one of America's great directors, shepherds his bemused herd of actors through the plot's twists and turns with wonderful dexterity. Watching Altman direct an ensemble like this is like watching a master pianist use the entire range of a grand piano.
Tune in...later (I'm not promising tomorrow this time. If not tomorrow, then Sunday, perhaps?) as I reveal the top 10 of the decade. Any predictions?
Showing posts with label WALL-E. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WALL-E. Show all posts
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Top 10 (which is to say all) Pixar films
It should be no secret by now that I love Pixar movies. No, not love. Love. That's right. It's earning that capital letter. Pixar Animation Studios continually churn out some of the most inspired, intrepid, and affecting film-making to come out of the studio system today. So, in the spirit of list-making and finishing a blog post before dinner, I'm going to run down Pixar's efforts from best to least best (I couldn't bring myself to say worst. Even the worst Pixar film is still head and shoulders over most of the crap that comes out nowadays). Enjoy!
(note: some of these reviews might sound a little critical; this is simply because I need to provide some faults to differentiate #10 from #1. Please remember that all of these films hold some place in my heart.)
10. Cars
Alas, this 2006 offering is Pixar's weakest feature. Its plot, continuing the 'anthropomorphic objects' theme, surrounds the derring-do of one Lightning McCloud, a hotshot young race car whose arrogance is taken down a peg or two when he finds himself stranded in a small 'average American' town. The world in which Cars takes place is, uncharacteristically, never fully realized. It appears that it's identical to our own world, save that cars take the place of humans, but is that it? A guaranteed feature of most Pixar films is that the world the characters inhabit feels real and plausible within the constrains of animation. The film is also, by far, the most unoriginal and conservative (arrogant young man learns error of his ways through studious application of small-town life). This isn't to say that the film doesn't offer up its own special pleasures: my favorite has to be the Italian tire-store owner and his hapless forklift assistant, whose pit-stops must be seen to be believed.
9. A Bug's Life
This second entry into the Pixar canon represents one of their most timid works to date, which is to say that the Pixar artists don't attempt anything new. So, A Bug's Life is familiar territory, but still does great things with said territory. Most notable is the gang of circus bugs who pose as warriors to pick up some extra cash; each character, from the uber-masculine ladybug Francis, to the joyfully gluttonous caterpillar Heimlich, are all carefully created and wonderfully realized. Unfortunately, not all the characters are so lucky. The villain, Hopper, is at a loss for interesting characteristics, and attempts to make up for it by snarling a lot. A well-known axiom: a grasshopper cannot be intimidating, regardless of how much he snarls. Indeed, his villain status makes him rare in the Pixar Pantheon: most Pixar films have characters with flaws, but few all-out villains that are given no humanistic traits. Oh well. Still a fun piece of work.
8. Ratatouille
Most top 10 Pixar lists have this one near the top, but, for the love of all that is good and holy, I just can't put it up there. I respect Ratatouille's technical proficiency, inventiveness, and joyous creativity, but, for whatever reason, it doesn't do too much for me emotionally. Suffice to say that I was entertained, but not moved. This isn't to say that it's a bad film: indeed, Ratatouille is great fun, with some very inventive and amusing moments. I respect it, but I don't love it. And, as you may remember me saying before, respect without love can only take things so far.
7. Up
I cry for the potential of this movie. The first two acts are wonderful, top-form Pixar, but the last act is a bit of a let-down. The first ten minutes (mostly silent) is some of the best film-making to come out this year: it chronicles the lifelong relationship of Carl and his wife Elly; how they meet as children, become sweethearts, create dreams together, get married, and realize that the realities of everyday life slowly suck their dreams away. The first bit is so bittersweet and heartbreaking: I thought the film was going to blow me away. The next part, which chronicles Carl's journey to the Amazon, as well as his burgeoning relationship with young boyscout Russell, is also fantastic. It's full of the right blend of warm humor, sharp characterization, and quiet empathy. Hell, even when they get to the jungle, and encounter the sillier supporting characters (Doug the talking Dog and Kevin, the gratuitously colorful bird), the film retains its original emotional core. Where it falters, however, is in the ending. We meet the villain, Charles Muntz, whose use in the film should be the masterstroke: He is the man who inspired a young Carl to have his travelling dreams. Carl meeting his hero and realizing his shortcomings fits with the rest of the film's themes wonderfully. Instead of something with a light touch, however, we get dogs in an aerial biplane battle and two octogenarians fencing. Why the sudden B-Movie action? It's completely incongruous to the spirit of the rest of the film. Sadly, Up trips in the last leg. What could have been one of Pixar's best is relegated to being #7. Oh well.
6. Toy Story 2
Rarely is a sequel this successful. Toy Story 2 isn't a rehash of the first film, or a sad attempt to continue the franchise. It's its own piece, full of light, humor, and surprisingly touching themes. The film is most concerned with loss and abandonment: as Andy gets older, and the toys start losing their lustre, they begin to contemplate what will happen to them when the person they love stops loving them back. The scenes with the new toys (owned by Crazy Al, the toy collector) are particularly affecting. Only someone with a heart of stone could be completely unmoved by the scene, told in silent montage set to "When Somebody Loved Me," that chronicles Jessie's relationship with her owner, and her subsequent abandonment. I'm making the movie sound like a terrible downer, but it's also full of great humor as well. Toy Story 2's take on Barbies is something for the ages. The only slight qualm I have with the film is that it goes a little overboard with film references; careful viewers can spot homages to Star Wars, Jurassic Park, 2001, This is Spinal Tap, etc. I feel it detracts from the film on repeated viewings. Other than that, this film is near perfect.
5. Monsters, Inc.
This is one of Pixar's great concepts. What if the monsters in your closet are just blue-collar guys trying to make a living who are just as terrified of you? Monsters, Inc. allows Pixar to create one of its most detailed and original worlds: the city of Monstropolis. Its inhabitants are monsters of such varying shapes and sizes that Darwin's head would explode after one minute of observation. The film's voice-cast is especially worth noting, comprised by the likes of Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, Jennifer Tilly, and James Coburn. The film works as comedy, thrill-ride, and corporate satire, and its central theme is potent: love and laughter are more powerful than fear. the final shot, a Chaplin homage, is a beautifully realized ending.
4. Toy Story
It's hard for me to put this one all the way up at #4, but that's how it goes. This, the original film, the one that started over a decade of successes, is still a classic in its own right. It's rightly praised for its visual inventiveness and technical acuity, but to focus on its superficial aspects is to ignore its unusually perceptive and complex portrayal of jealousy, pride, and the simple desire to be loved. The film is stuffed to the brim with great comedic moments (my personal favorite: "You're a sad, strange little man, and I pity you") and moments that ring true emotionally (the part where Buzz discovers he's a toy, attempts to fly anyway, and falls and breaks, always gets me). Toy Story, upon its release was a bolt from the blue that revolutionized the medium of animation. Yes, I respect it for its contributions to film, but I also love it for being a great movie.
3. Finding Nemo
Sometimes the best stories are the simplest ones. This tale of a father trying to find his son is full of warmth, love, quiet insight, and sights of astonishing visual beauty. It also boasts some of the most well-realized characters in Pixar's history. A write has no choice but to give a shout-out to Ellen DeGeneres as Dory, in what may be, perhaps the best, definitely my favorite voice-over performance in the movies. The movie is filled with great stand-alone sequences with their own colorful cast: the Shark Support Group, the Sea Turtles, the Sea Gulls. And who could forget Darla, perhaps the only character since Norman Bates to earn her shrieking violin music. This isn't just great animation. It's great film-making, period. And, let's be honest: Who here hasn't tried to speak Whale at least once?
2. The Incredibles
Unarguably the most complex effort on Pixar's behalf, it's also one of the best and most intelligent. Brad Bird's film is a sharp-edged satire of contemporary values; its plot concerns superheroes who are forced to pretend to be normal in the face of lawsuits from people who didn't want to be saved, or objected to the manner in which they are saved. As Bob Parr, or Mr. Incredible, points out society "keeps finding ways to celebrate mediocrity." What on earth is that line doing in a children's film? The answer, of course, is that this isn't a children's film. The Incredibles also explores a recurrent Pixar theme, which involves characters meeting their god and becoming disillusioned (see Up, Monsters, Inc., and Cars for other examples...even if I didn't write about that aspect of them. Oops.). Only in this film, however, does the character in question (Buddy, or Syndrome, depending on whose side you're on) decide to commit the rest of his life to killing that god. The Incredibles speaks volumes about societal mistrust of the extraordinary, dissatisfaction with life, and the inability for ideals to live up to reality. Plus, it gives us Edna Mode, who is, for my money, the best character to come out of a Pixar movie.
1. WALL-E
It was always going to be this one at the top, wasn't it? WALL-E is a singularly unique and staggering cinematic achievement. In its first forty minutes, it establishes its world and its characters entirely without dialogue. Even when speaking parts are introduced, the prevailing interactions are actions, not words. This is the closest thing to a silent film release since 1928. If not for a certain animated Israeli documentary that I can't shake, I would call this the best film of 2008. Even so, I would lay money on the fact that of all films from last year, WALL-E will be remembered for the longest. Much of its power comes from its simplicity. Sure, there's plenty around the edges about wastefulness, laziness, and stagnation (Pixar does love to to show people whose dreams have slowly died, don't they?), but the central conceit is almost impossibly simple: boy meets girl, boy falls in love, girl does the same. The emotion in this movie is so palpable and tangible. What's more impressive is that it's done with a glorified trash compacter and an egg-shaped iPod. WALL-E finds something universal at the core of the human experience and plugs into it, channelling it to the greatest extent. As an added bonus, the "define dancing" sequence is Movie Magic at its best.
Well, there you have it. Have y'all seen all of these? Or at least some? Am I perhaps to lenient with Pixar? What ranks as the best effort in your mind? Don't be shy. I love arguing.
(note: some of these reviews might sound a little critical; this is simply because I need to provide some faults to differentiate #10 from #1. Please remember that all of these films hold some place in my heart.)
10. Cars
Alas, this 2006 offering is Pixar's weakest feature. Its plot, continuing the 'anthropomorphic objects' theme, surrounds the derring-do of one Lightning McCloud, a hotshot young race car whose arrogance is taken down a peg or two when he finds himself stranded in a small 'average American' town. The world in which Cars takes place is, uncharacteristically, never fully realized. It appears that it's identical to our own world, save that cars take the place of humans, but is that it? A guaranteed feature of most Pixar films is that the world the characters inhabit feels real and plausible within the constrains of animation. The film is also, by far, the most unoriginal and conservative (arrogant young man learns error of his ways through studious application of small-town life). This isn't to say that the film doesn't offer up its own special pleasures: my favorite has to be the Italian tire-store owner and his hapless forklift assistant, whose pit-stops must be seen to be believed.
9. A Bug's Life
This second entry into the Pixar canon represents one of their most timid works to date, which is to say that the Pixar artists don't attempt anything new. So, A Bug's Life is familiar territory, but still does great things with said territory. Most notable is the gang of circus bugs who pose as warriors to pick up some extra cash; each character, from the uber-masculine ladybug Francis, to the joyfully gluttonous caterpillar Heimlich, are all carefully created and wonderfully realized. Unfortunately, not all the characters are so lucky. The villain, Hopper, is at a loss for interesting characteristics, and attempts to make up for it by snarling a lot. A well-known axiom: a grasshopper cannot be intimidating, regardless of how much he snarls. Indeed, his villain status makes him rare in the Pixar Pantheon: most Pixar films have characters with flaws, but few all-out villains that are given no humanistic traits. Oh well. Still a fun piece of work.
8. Ratatouille
Most top 10 Pixar lists have this one near the top, but, for the love of all that is good and holy, I just can't put it up there. I respect Ratatouille's technical proficiency, inventiveness, and joyous creativity, but, for whatever reason, it doesn't do too much for me emotionally. Suffice to say that I was entertained, but not moved. This isn't to say that it's a bad film: indeed, Ratatouille is great fun, with some very inventive and amusing moments. I respect it, but I don't love it. And, as you may remember me saying before, respect without love can only take things so far.
7. Up
I cry for the potential of this movie. The first two acts are wonderful, top-form Pixar, but the last act is a bit of a let-down. The first ten minutes (mostly silent) is some of the best film-making to come out this year: it chronicles the lifelong relationship of Carl and his wife Elly; how they meet as children, become sweethearts, create dreams together, get married, and realize that the realities of everyday life slowly suck their dreams away. The first bit is so bittersweet and heartbreaking: I thought the film was going to blow me away. The next part, which chronicles Carl's journey to the Amazon, as well as his burgeoning relationship with young boyscout Russell, is also fantastic. It's full of the right blend of warm humor, sharp characterization, and quiet empathy. Hell, even when they get to the jungle, and encounter the sillier supporting characters (Doug the talking Dog and Kevin, the gratuitously colorful bird), the film retains its original emotional core. Where it falters, however, is in the ending. We meet the villain, Charles Muntz, whose use in the film should be the masterstroke: He is the man who inspired a young Carl to have his travelling dreams. Carl meeting his hero and realizing his shortcomings fits with the rest of the film's themes wonderfully. Instead of something with a light touch, however, we get dogs in an aerial biplane battle and two octogenarians fencing. Why the sudden B-Movie action? It's completely incongruous to the spirit of the rest of the film. Sadly, Up trips in the last leg. What could have been one of Pixar's best is relegated to being #7. Oh well.
6. Toy Story 2
Rarely is a sequel this successful. Toy Story 2 isn't a rehash of the first film, or a sad attempt to continue the franchise. It's its own piece, full of light, humor, and surprisingly touching themes. The film is most concerned with loss and abandonment: as Andy gets older, and the toys start losing their lustre, they begin to contemplate what will happen to them when the person they love stops loving them back. The scenes with the new toys (owned by Crazy Al, the toy collector) are particularly affecting. Only someone with a heart of stone could be completely unmoved by the scene, told in silent montage set to "When Somebody Loved Me," that chronicles Jessie's relationship with her owner, and her subsequent abandonment. I'm making the movie sound like a terrible downer, but it's also full of great humor as well. Toy Story 2's take on Barbies is something for the ages. The only slight qualm I have with the film is that it goes a little overboard with film references; careful viewers can spot homages to Star Wars, Jurassic Park, 2001, This is Spinal Tap, etc. I feel it detracts from the film on repeated viewings. Other than that, this film is near perfect.
5. Monsters, Inc.
This is one of Pixar's great concepts. What if the monsters in your closet are just blue-collar guys trying to make a living who are just as terrified of you? Monsters, Inc. allows Pixar to create one of its most detailed and original worlds: the city of Monstropolis. Its inhabitants are monsters of such varying shapes and sizes that Darwin's head would explode after one minute of observation. The film's voice-cast is especially worth noting, comprised by the likes of Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, Jennifer Tilly, and James Coburn. The film works as comedy, thrill-ride, and corporate satire, and its central theme is potent: love and laughter are more powerful than fear. the final shot, a Chaplin homage, is a beautifully realized ending.
4. Toy Story
It's hard for me to put this one all the way up at #4, but that's how it goes. This, the original film, the one that started over a decade of successes, is still a classic in its own right. It's rightly praised for its visual inventiveness and technical acuity, but to focus on its superficial aspects is to ignore its unusually perceptive and complex portrayal of jealousy, pride, and the simple desire to be loved. The film is stuffed to the brim with great comedic moments (my personal favorite: "You're a sad, strange little man, and I pity you") and moments that ring true emotionally (the part where Buzz discovers he's a toy, attempts to fly anyway, and falls and breaks, always gets me). Toy Story, upon its release was a bolt from the blue that revolutionized the medium of animation. Yes, I respect it for its contributions to film, but I also love it for being a great movie.
3. Finding Nemo
Sometimes the best stories are the simplest ones. This tale of a father trying to find his son is full of warmth, love, quiet insight, and sights of astonishing visual beauty. It also boasts some of the most well-realized characters in Pixar's history. A write has no choice but to give a shout-out to Ellen DeGeneres as Dory, in what may be, perhaps the best, definitely my favorite voice-over performance in the movies. The movie is filled with great stand-alone sequences with their own colorful cast: the Shark Support Group, the Sea Turtles, the Sea Gulls. And who could forget Darla, perhaps the only character since Norman Bates to earn her shrieking violin music. This isn't just great animation. It's great film-making, period. And, let's be honest: Who here hasn't tried to speak Whale at least once?
2. The Incredibles
Unarguably the most complex effort on Pixar's behalf, it's also one of the best and most intelligent. Brad Bird's film is a sharp-edged satire of contemporary values; its plot concerns superheroes who are forced to pretend to be normal in the face of lawsuits from people who didn't want to be saved, or objected to the manner in which they are saved. As Bob Parr, or Mr. Incredible, points out society "keeps finding ways to celebrate mediocrity." What on earth is that line doing in a children's film? The answer, of course, is that this isn't a children's film. The Incredibles also explores a recurrent Pixar theme, which involves characters meeting their god and becoming disillusioned (see Up, Monsters, Inc., and Cars for other examples...even if I didn't write about that aspect of them. Oops.). Only in this film, however, does the character in question (Buddy, or Syndrome, depending on whose side you're on) decide to commit the rest of his life to killing that god. The Incredibles speaks volumes about societal mistrust of the extraordinary, dissatisfaction with life, and the inability for ideals to live up to reality. Plus, it gives us Edna Mode, who is, for my money, the best character to come out of a Pixar movie.
1. WALL-E
It was always going to be this one at the top, wasn't it? WALL-E is a singularly unique and staggering cinematic achievement. In its first forty minutes, it establishes its world and its characters entirely without dialogue. Even when speaking parts are introduced, the prevailing interactions are actions, not words. This is the closest thing to a silent film release since 1928. If not for a certain animated Israeli documentary that I can't shake, I would call this the best film of 2008. Even so, I would lay money on the fact that of all films from last year, WALL-E will be remembered for the longest. Much of its power comes from its simplicity. Sure, there's plenty around the edges about wastefulness, laziness, and stagnation (Pixar does love to to show people whose dreams have slowly died, don't they?), but the central conceit is almost impossibly simple: boy meets girl, boy falls in love, girl does the same. The emotion in this movie is so palpable and tangible. What's more impressive is that it's done with a glorified trash compacter and an egg-shaped iPod. WALL-E finds something universal at the core of the human experience and plugs into it, channelling it to the greatest extent. As an added bonus, the "define dancing" sequence is Movie Magic at its best.
Well, there you have it. Have y'all seen all of these? Or at least some? Am I perhaps to lenient with Pixar? What ranks as the best effort in your mind? Don't be shy. I love arguing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)