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2004: The Year In Movies

Luke Rush counts down the best films of 2004



12. Super Size Me
Director: Morgan Spurlock

It’s practically common knowledge by now that fast food is generally bad for you (though judging by the increase in related lawsuits, public responsibility regarding that fact seems to be waning), but Morgan Spurlock’s gutsy, voyeuristic exercise in public awareness is the first time someone has gone as far as to put a face on it. Turning himself into a garrulous, engaging emcee in the name of science, Spurlock’s Super Size Me is an informative, entertaining and sometimes shocking document, part documentary and part road movie. To think that he was rejected from film school five times is enough to give any burgeoning filmmaker hope.

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11. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Director: Alfonso Cuaron

The third installment in the Harry Potter series has been cited by the greatest number of fans as the best story to this point, and the movie version holds true to that proclamation all the way through. Azkabanis also the darkest of the first three in terms of theme, so the move to Cuaron as director works just as well as you might think. The kids are noticeably more comfortable than they were at the start, but the presence of notable supporting talent like David Thewlis (Professor Lupin) and Gary Oldman (a striking turn as Sirius Black, a cornerstone character in terms of importance if not presence) pushes this one over the top. An adventure fit for any audience, young or old.

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10. Shaun of the Dead
Director: Edgar Wright

A smash hit in its native Britain, Shaun of the Dead was unjustifiably quite a flop in the States, never reaching a level of release that would have allowed it to make a real dent. And that’s a shame, because Shaun is a well-written, whip-smart comedy that comes off well regardless of whether you’re a zombie cinema aficionado or not. Simon Pegg, the title character and also the film’s co-writer with director Wright, creates the perfect modern anti-hero with his oafish flatmate Ed (Nick Frost). Chock full of pop culture references both common and obscure, Shaun of the Dead is destined to become a cult classic (Office Space, anyone?), just due for a movie that never really had a chance in America.

The opening of a new IKEA store

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09. Goodbye, Lenin!
Director: Wolfgang Becker

On the surface, Goodbye Lenin! is a story about a newly-liberated Germany struggling to come to grips with Capitalism. Dig a little deeper, though, and you’ll find a touching story about a son who loves his mother enough to go incredible lengths to keep her alive, even if it means intentionally distorting reality. Goodbye Lenin! is a sweet, whimsical fable the likes of which we don’t see very often anymore, entirely fictional but still grounded within the confines of basic reality. Becker, who also co-wrote the screenplay, intertwines social commentary with some striking comedic moments, to great effect. Certainly one of the year’s great surprises.

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08. Control Room
Director: Jehane Noujaim

Control Room was this season’s most striking documentary by virtue of its modest intentions. It was made not to inflame or provoke, as most were during this election season, but to merely tell a familiar story from a different angle. The proliferation and influence of the news media is nothing new to Americans, but to see the media influence by way of the Middle East and its primary media mouthpiece, Al Jazeera, one sees that the general role of network news in culture is quite universal. Noujaim juxtaposes the efforts of Al Jazeera with the public relations efforts of other organizations as well as the American military in Iraq, on a balanced, depoliticized stage. It passes no judgment, and there are no antagonists or protagonists, just a public relations battle that finds its greatest divergence in the two sides’ cultural philosophies.

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07. Collateral
Director: Michael Mann

Michael Mann has proven himself to be equally adept at creating compelling character sketches about both ordinary people and extraordinary people (The Insider being an example of the former, and Alibeing one of the latter), and his 2004 effort, Collateral, finds him dabbling in the corner of each. The interplay between Jamie Foxx’s everyman taxi driver Max and Tom Cruise’s amoral, impenitent hitman Vincent brings the two groups face to face, a culture clash of sorts that finds two men just trying to make their living, albeit through wildly factious avenues. The film boasts a top-notch cast, even below the headliners (including Mark Ruffalo, Bruce McGill, Javier Bardem and Peter Berg, who directed this year’s Friday Night Lights), and Mann’s knack for handsome, atmospheric nightscapes gives the film a suitably reined-in, claustrophobic feel.

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06. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Director: Michel Gondry

If you’re a music fan, you’ve probably seen Michel Gondry’s handiwork accompanying the White Stripes’ “Fell In Love With A Girl” or any number of pop videos. His gifts as a visual trickster play well with the quirky strengths of Charlie Kaufman’s script (a redundancy if I’ve ever heard one, “quirky” and “Charlie Kaufman”) for the audaciously titled Eternal Sunshine, as well as a group of actors who can ably carry that aura of quirkiness along. Buoyed by what is arguably Jim Carrey’s finest performance to date and a resplendent Kate Winslet (lest we forget Elijah Wood, Kirsten Dunst, Tom Wilkinson, and yes, Mark Ruffalo), it is the antithesis of Before Sunset’s traditionalist romance, but no less the attuned love story with its finger right on the relations between the heart and the mind.

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05. Finding Neverland
Director: Marc Forster

You can usually tell after seeing a movie whether the director truly had his heart into the project or not, and it becomes flagrantly apparent in the case of Finding Neverland that Marc Forster was pursuing his vision with a reckless abandon. It’s a fantastic story about a legendary story, and while it is certainly susceptible to fits of creative license, it becomes rather easy to just roll with the tides of the crisp, well-told tale of James Barrie and his realization of Peter Pan. It’s honest, heartfelt, and true to itself, which is more than we can seem to ask of most films these days. If your eyes aren’t damp by the end, then you probably didn’t invest in the story as much as the film itself does. But they won’t be.

Marc Forster’s Finding Neverland

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04. Million Dollar Baby
Director: Clint Eastwood

I couldn’t help but think time and time again during Million Dollar Baby of how ironic it is that the man who might very well be the greatest living American director – who not only writes the musical scores for his films but carries them along on a bed of emotion and nuance that every other movie director should wish they had such a feel for – was the guy who once played Dirty Harry Callahan. Million Dollar Baby uses boxing as nothing more than a surface metaphor, its axioms as analogous to life’s trials and tribulations. The boxing sequences, while impressively carried off, are secondary to the exchanges amongst the three primary characters, which vacillate from the standard Eastwood terseness to engrossing, near-lyrical dialogues. It’s not a stretch to think that all three, Eastwood, Hilary Swank, and good-as-ever Morgan Freeman, could and should get nominated. It seemed unusual that the first Oscar season in four years not to have the specter of the Lord of the Rings hanging overhead didn’t have a surefire favorite, but after all, that was just the first 11 ½ months. It’s here now.

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03. The Passion of the Christ
Director: Mel Gibson

While it was bound to meet an avalanche of contradictory opinions in light of the fuss that was raised long before its release, one thing is for sure about The Passion: There’s never been anything like it. The best thing that The Passion had going for it is that it wasn’t made by someone within the Pentecostal Christian/Falwell-approved loop, a group who would have undoubtedly shunned the film’s heretofore unseen level of personal violence had it taken place under any other set of pretenses. They certainly would have never put something like that to film themselves. Gibson never budged from his original concept ofThe Passion, and it shows. The film is unflinching, brutal, audacious and uncompromising in every sense, light years beyond Scorsese’s revisionist history of Christ or any Christian-endorsed filmmaker’s Sunday School-ing of crucial historic material. Mel Gibson might be a radical, but then again, radicals do seem to have a flair for getting people’s attention.

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02. Sideways
Director: Alexander Payne

Chances are that you’ll probably find a lot of flawed movies about perfect people at your local cineplex – I’m looking at you, Hollywood –  but much less often do you find a perfect movie about flawed people. Or at least a just-about-perfect movie.Sideways finds its beauty in the flaws of a handful of lost, wandering souls, and a little bit of northern California sun… But mostly the lost souls. Paul Giamatti is quickly going to have to take out a patent on the sad-sack character, taking one step closer to being this generation’s everyman actor with his performance as Miles, an aspiring author who buries his constant struggles in his auspiciously astute knowledge of wine. Sidewaysis a familiar story, being that we’ve seen its characters in our own daily travails, friends and acquaintances who make the same mistakes and find it hard to snap out of their bad habits. We laugh at the characters in Sideways because we know this sort of stuff happens. Sometimes it even happens to us.

01. Garden State
Director: Zach Braff

The Passion might be the bigger spectacle with all of the press, and Sideways might be the finely honed, spit-polished tale of human ineptitude, but there wasn’t a single movie in 2004 that charmed any me more than Garden State. It’s not a perfect film, but as a level headed, personable examination of everything from suburbia to family life to the sometimes-aimless purpose searching of young adulthood, it’s dead on. As evidenced by this movie and his directorial efforts on Scrubs, it’s pretty clear that Zach Braff, despite being a relative greenhorn on the scene, knows how to put together an affecting, emotionally relevant story arc. Add an immaculate supporting cast of Ian Holm, Peter Sarsgaard and that irresistible pixie Natalie Portman (her idiosyncrasies here seem to match up pretty squarely with her precocious youngster from Beautiful Girls), and you’ve got yourself a small-scale masterpiece.

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Honorable Mention

– Before Sunset (Director: Richard Linklater)
– Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (Director: Adam McKay)
– The Corporation (Directors: Jennifer Abbott and Mark Achbar)
– Mean Girls (Director: Mark S. Waters)
– Friday Night Lights (Director: Peter Berg)
– The Terminal (Director: Steven Spielberg)

Film Reviews

Film Review: It Chapter Two

The sweet spot between Stephen King fans, horror fans and (believe it or not) comedy fans



The final installment in the It saga is a clever, scary, probably-too-long allegory about the power of friendship — complete with a 20-foot clown spider. Sure, it’s probably a half-hour longer than it really needs to be — but It Chapter Two is still a fantastic film that hits the sweet spot between Stephen King fans, horror fans and (believe it or not) comedy fans.

It’s a story about friendship, and just like the first film, it’s those relationships that make this story so compelling and keep it woven together in a way that you really care about what’s happening to all the folks Pennywise has been menacing across these two films. Sure, Bill Skarsgård’s absolutely terrifying performance as Pennywise is what puts butts in the seats, but at its heart, this is a story about the power of friendship to win out over pretty much anything. If we work together, we can overcome fear, loneliness, doubt, depression — and yeah — even a supernaturally godlike killer clown. Thankfully, all the blood keeps that message from getting too sappy along the way.

The first It in 2017 was a surprise, monster hit — but for good reason. The Stephen King adaptation by director Andy Muschietti is pretty much a horror masterpiece wrapped in a compelling coming of age story. Think Goonies meets a face-eating monster flick with jump scares galore to keep the blood pumping. But, despite a decently-closed ending to the first chapter, the story was always conceived as a two-part film run, which is pretty much the only way one could hope to possibly wrap up King’s massive tome (the studio actually briefly considered splitting Chapter Two into two films, because there’s just so much material). 

It Chapter Two makes a wise decision to keep the stellar younger cast from the first film involved via ample flashbacks, while still providing space for the adult Losers to live and breathe (and, ahem, die) while bridging the gap between who they were and who they all grew up to be. It also embraces the inherent silliness and insanity of its premise to laugh, now seen through the lens of middle-aged adults as opposed to middle school minds. It’s a hard tone to hit, and it arguably might come off with more laughs than scares, but it’s true to the inherent madness of Pennywise.

The adult cast is also a home run by and large. James McAvoy makes for a capable adult Bill; Jessica Chastain is the embodiment of adult Bev; James Ransome nails grown-up Eddie; and Isaiah Mustafa does a capable job providing the necessary info-dumps as adult Mike. But the real breakout is Saturday Night Live alum Bill Hader as grown-up Richie. There’s scattered buzz that Hader could be worthy of an Oscar nomination for his performance, and he deserves every bit of it. We knew Hader had comedy chops, and he uses them plenty to keep this dark tale from getting too dark, but he really taps into the emotion of what it’d be like to go through something so traumatizing. And the moments that break Richie will almost certainly break you, too.

As for the changes to King’s original novel, sure, they’ll certainly be noticeable for fans. That said, the book itself — especially the ending — is absolutely wild and arguably impossible to adapt in a way that could work on the screen. The ending on-screen largely stays true to King’s themes built into the novel, and for the story that’s been told across these two films, it really does work. Hell, even King himself shows up in a cameo to make a joke about just how hard it can be to get an ending right.

Thankfully, despite a few bumps, It Chapter Two pretty much nails the landing. In a world filled more and more with King adaptations, this two-film run will stand as one of the best.

It Chapter Two is in cinemas now

Directed by: Andy Muschietti
Written by: Gary Dauberman
Cast: James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Bill Skarsgård
Distributed by: Warner Bros. Pictures
Run time: 169 minutes

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Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Fight Club, and the Quest For Authenticity

An exploration of the struggles in constructing an authentic self



As with any of Quentin Tarantino’s films, his ninth is a fountain of hot-takes. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood has something for everybody with an opinion about just about anything. The film has touched off conversations about #MeToo, nostalgia, Christianity, and foot fetishism. In short, I fully understand that the last thing anybody needs is yet another angle on this movie. 

Nonetheless, I would like to propose that Tarantino’s latest is not only the sweetest, most optimistic film of his career, it’s also a rather profound exploration of the struggles in constructing an authentic self. By looking at this film’s use of doubling, and by contrasting it with how doubling functions in David Fincher’s Fight Club, I want to argue that Once Upon a Time in Hollywood offers unexpected wisdom about the possibility of finding authenticity in a world of artifice, even as it creates an artificial past.

The film is utterly unique in Tarantino’s catalog, lacking (until the ending) the gruesome violence that characterizes so many of his films. The specter of that violence still hangs over this film and adds a lot of juicy tension to scenes like Cliff’s visit to Spahn Ranch. One has come to expect carnage in scenes like this in the past, and Tarantino masterfully uses that expectation to create a scene that is a masterclass in suspense. 

Once Upon a Time‘s directorial craftsmanship is joined by absolutely stellar performances across the board. Leonardo DiCaprio’s lead performance as Rick Dalton is a complex web of rage, vulnerability, and desperation and should earn the actor an Oscar nomination if there is any justice. Likewise, Margot Robbie is simply dazzling as Sharon Tate and, like the film itself, she makes the viewer long for a world in which Tate survived Charles Manson’s impotent rage. 

It is Brad Pitt as Rick’s stunt-double, Cliff Booth, that I want to focus this analysis on, however. Pitt’s performance pairs nicely with DiCaprio’s and his characterization of Cliff is a kind of negative to DiCaprio’s Rick Dalton. For all Dalton’s frantic, nervous desperation, Pitt’s Cliff is a rock of bemused stoicism, and the two performances feed seamlessly off one another. So seamlessly that they function as two parts of a single whole, which is of primary concern to the film, I argue.

The doubling of Cliff and Rick offers substantial food for thought about the nature of identity in this film, and I want to suggest that Once Upon a Time says something important about personal redemption. Some viewers have dismissed Tarantino’s latest as mere wish-fulfillment, but others, such as David Bentley Hart, see a sincere moral imagination in the film’s re-imagination of the Manson tragedy, and its attempt at crafting an alternative narrative that redeems the broken past through art. Hart’s reading of the film seems right to me and I think that central to the film’s power is Rick Dalton’s process of reconciliation with himself. He struggles with being two people at once, the biological Rick Dalton, and the Hollywood creation “Rick Dalton.”

DiCaprio’s Dalton is an amalgam of an old-Hollywood system actor. He is part Clint Eastwood, part James Arness, and part John Wayne. He is meant to be taken as an archetype of an actor who is a product of a star-driven system. Whatever role Dalton was playing, he was, for his audience, “Rick Dalton,” and his strength was in delivering on the expectations that system created. The problem with that for Dalton is that he became a fictional version of himself in the process. His individual identity, as an artist and as a man, was lost, replaced with the product “Rick Dalton” that was crafted and sold by the entertainment industry. And as Hollywood began transitioning away from the system in which this was successful, Dalton experienced a profound identity crisis.

The forging of that artificial identity required the pairing of Rick with Cliff, his confidant, and stunt double. “Rick Dalton” could not very well be an action hero if he could not fall off a horse. However, to do so would eventually bear a heavy toll upon Rick Dalton. Cliff, the rugged stunt man, could bear the physical burdens that made the on-screen persona possible. 

The resulting partnership was a two-sided coin for Dalton. Sure it made the creation of “Rick Dalton” possible, but it stunted the human development of Rick Dalton, and in the midst of epochal changes in the industry threatened his very existence. Cliff made Rick look powerful on-screen, but off-screen, Dalton’s life became similarly dependent upon Cliff, who could not fix his own TV antenna or even drive his own car. To create the heroic, powerful “Rick Dalton,” Rick Dalton became nothing but a spider-web of powerlessness and anxiety. 

“Rick Dalton’s” power resided fully in Cliff’s preternaturally capable hands. He may or may not have killed his wife, but he is a master stuntman nonetheless, an expert driver, a skilled handyman, and he even beat Bruce Lee in a fight. This is all before his near single-handed massacre of the Manson family at the film’s climax. In short, the power he brings to the creation of “Rick Dalton” is dangerous, with a mystical violence lying just below the grinning, calm surface he presents. He is the id to Dalton’s superego and together, they form a precarious ego.

Here a comparison to Fight Club is in order.

David Fincher’s 1999 adaptation of Chuck Palahniuk’s novel also dealt with a character split into two halves. The crafted persona of “The Narrator” (Edward Norton) comes to depend on the unbridled violence of his other half, Tyler Durden (performed by, coincidently or not, our own Brad Pitt). Durden is the id to The Narrator’s out-of-control superego, and he frees the depressed white-collar worker from the constraints put on him by consumer society, supposedly connecting him back to his state as a “natural man.” 

Like Rick Dalton, The Narrator lives a life curated for success in the machinery of his industry. The demands of this effort eventually replaces any authenticity his life might contain with a manicured performance. His is a kind of simulacrum rather than a man. 

Here is precisely where Once Upon a Time in Hollywood diverges from Fight Club, however, and the change helps make Tarantino’s film far more optimistic than Fincher’s. 

For Fight Club’s Narrator, Pitt’s Tyler Durden is a hammer used to destroy the carefully curated image. Trapped in a consumer nightmare existence, Norton’s character invents a psychic projection of himself that frees him from the shackles of his inauthentic lifestyle. What many viewers of the film miss, however, is that, despite the apparent ethical move toward authenticity, what this actually results in is a kind of fascist movement (today we might call the Fight Club an Alt-Right group) based on a mythology of the past. In short, The Narrator and Durden replace one form of inauthenticity with another. 

Once Upon a Time inverts the relationship between Pitt and his double. Here, the free and violent Cliff is not the solution to Rick’s problem of inauthenticity, he helps facilitate it in the first place. (One other major difference is, of course, that here Pitt’s character literally exists and is not a psychic manifestation of The Narrator’s subconscious). When, at the film’s end, Rick and Cliff amicably part, both are given the new opportunity to exist without dependency upon the other in this optimistic fantasy world in which Old Hollywood and New Hollywood come together without the violent fracture of the Manson murders.

The difference is significant. Because Cliff is not leading Rick from one artificial life to another, Rick is free from his codependency upon his stunt man and free to create a whole version of himself. 

And as it turns out, Rick is a good actor. In the film’s third act, while separated from Cliff, he blossoms in his craft. Hired by a director who breaks with practices of the system that created “Rick Dalton,” Rick is forced to act, not merely perform “Rick Dalton.” DiCaprio’s performance in these scenes are the moral centerpiece of the film and we see a transformation in Dalton. Freed of the constructed identity that created “Rick Dalton,” including his id, Cliff, he sheds the confines of the old system and metamorphoses into an actor that may one day star in Roman Polanski films of an imagined New Hollywood. 

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