So here we are (admittedly a bit later than
other end of year lists) with the top eight films of 2013.
At number eight is Blue
Jasmine. More than once have critics gleefully announced the demise of
Woody Allen, the man Roger Ebert once labelled ‘the treasure of cinema’. Sure
Allen’s filmmaking method of
make-as-many-films-as-possible-and-hope-something-sticks has given us some
wayward products but they have always been more than counter-balanced by the
greats like Annie Hall or Husbands And Wives. Blue Jasmine is a
terrifically written story – which Allen pens himself of course – that manages
to adroitly capture a very challenging paradox: of combining a deft humour with
the frighteningly serious mental disintegration of a woman in her forties. It’s
sublimely poised on a delicate equilibrium for the entire 98 minute running
time. Not only does he negotiate that confluence of tone but Allen also
juxtaposes the travails of Jasmine (Cate Blanchett), her flashbacks with
crooked husband Hal (Alec Baldwin) and the love-life of step sister Ginger
(Sally Hawkins). He manages to incorporate all these disparate tendrils of
story into one captivating, coherent plotline. Blue Jasmine is a lesson
in how to write a near perfect screenplay.
Next: Frances Ha, Noah Baumbach’s
monochrome film. Frances from Frances Ha is full of joire-de-vivre,
definably Iggy’s lust for life. Greta Gerwig is jubilantly hilarious as
Frances. She radiates the requisite optimism for Baumbach’s character and
adeptly enacts the wince-inducing scrapes that Frances gets herself into.
Gerwig – who also writes – is the lifeblood of Frances Ha. But Baumbach and his
cinematographer Sam Levy certainly encapsulate the bohemian cool of New York
City. There’s a hint of fond satire for that hipster kind of culture, something
so intrinsically linked to New York. Frances Ha is a charming watch, a
bit twee but not in the emotionally shallow way – twee in the coy sexy way.
Django Unchained proves that if he so desires, Quentin Tarantino could make a
fantastic suspense thriller. And for two hours that is what we have here – a superbly
scripted, masterfully poised edge, then Tarantino’s self-control relents, the
craziness kicks in and Django becomes the mish-mash of earnest drama and
B-movie gore that its director loves. Jamie Foxx is the eponymous Django, a
freed slave out to wreak his revenge over the world of white men, delicately seeking
to liberate his wife from the lawful clutches of Leonardo Di Caprio’s
plantation owner. Foxx is accompanied by Christoph Waltz and submits another beguiling
performance as a Tarantino German. But perhaps the greatest legacy that Django
bequeaths to the world is proving the acceptance, nay the necessity, of the
production of films that centre on American slavery… even if the last fifteen
minutes was just gratuitously mental.
The Place Beyond the Pines was released into the world way back in spring of this year, a kind
of dramatic epic that sprawls across its 140 minute runtime incorporating three
distinct acts and time periods. The first sees Ryan Gosling in his usual
reticent role choosing to look stay in Schenectady to watch over his son Jason,
who lives with mother Eva Mendes. But he approaches the issue of financial
support in a demonstrably non-lawful manner and is shot by the policeman
Bradley Cooper, who is subsequently wracked with guilt. Cooper has a son called
AJ, the same age as Jason. The third act concerns their volatile, dysfunctional
friendship which is ignorant of the morbid connection between their respective
father's. Whilst it may be a little long for those with shorter attention spans
Pines is a visually appealing movie with a veracity and vigour to follow
through on the style.
Only God Forgives is a neon
bleached blitz set in Bangkok, sometimes highly stylised sometimes gritty and
difficult – but always with that Nico Winding Refn aesthetic in mind. Lieutenant
Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm) is the curious figure who acts as a self-appointed moral
executor in a city bereft of law or justice, Refn’s anarchic angel with a
sword. It features another reticent Ryan Gosling performance, akin to his
appearance in the popular Drive. Photographically this really isn’t that
different from Drive: both take place in dark urban environments, lit
only by the vice and torment of its inhabitants; but this is far grislier fare with
obscurer motives yet it remains wholly compelling and utterly arresting.
3. A Field in England harnessed
plenty of the right kind of social media attention with its unorthodox release:
the movie came out simultaneously in the cinema, VOD (video on demand – iTunes
etc), DVD and on television via the English film channel Film4 (who also funded
the production). And yet a strategy such as this needs a memorable film to
follow through on those concepts; Ben Wheatley delivers on that count: A
Field in England is a richly disturbing exercise in cinematic psychedelia, darkly
surreal and incisively acted. It manages to strike at the contemporary yet
remunerate the English Civil War mental-ness it recreates. Shot in black and
white with a penchant for the bizarre, A Field is a difficult watch.
Particularly the 10 minute psych-out bit towards the end. It’s a kaleidoscopic
montage of mirrored camera effects and slow motion, soundtracked by jarringly
atonal noise. The impact is withering and fascinating, and remarkably efficient
in conveying the bewilderment that it does. But this picture is all the more
interesting for these affectations.
2. From the opening ten minute opening
salvo, almost entirely one beautiful swirling shot, every filmmaking aspect of Gravity
is strangely realist and genuine and fibrous yet blessed with the photographic
cerebral grace that cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki somehow bestows upon
Alfonso Cuaron's film. How the sets and photographic angles were constructed
completely confounds my admittedly limited knowledge of CGI and camerawork, but
I just can't imagine how they were conducted... just staggering. Cuaron’s work
is confounding and brilliant and will be remembered for a long time.
And number one. Number one is the
Italian... thing… Paolo
Sorrentino’s La Grande Bellezza. It’s the most beautiful film I have ever seen. Cinematography, music,
the concept – Toni Servillo reflecting on his bohemian life in the beautiful
Roma – everything is a bit stunning and kind of unexplainable.
That’s it. Another
good year for the art of filmmaking.
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