The Films of 2008: My Favorites

Sorry this list is a little late, but New Year’s week was a bit hectic for me. (Jacob came into town; much merriment—and a touch of drama—ensued.)
Cloverfield—The first film I saw last year is still my favorite. Yes, it’s high concept, but more importantly it’s ferociously entertaining, using special effects sparingly and generating gargantuan amounts of suspense and terror. By depicting a monster movie scenario via shaky camera work and naturalistic performances, Cloverfield accomplishes the difficult feat of making its Godzilla-esque premise believable. Some criticized producer J.J. Abrams and co. for exploiting 9/11 imagery to unnerve their audience, but the best horror filmmakers have always used real fears to underlie fanciful stories.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall—Hands down, my favorite comedy of the year. Writer director Jason Segel established himself as a rising talent to watch with this hilarious and relatable film. All the pain of breakups is made as real as it is hysterical, as hapless Peter (Segel) tries to escape to Hawaii, only to run into ex Sarah (Kristen Bell, always perfection) and her vain new rock star beau (Russell Brand). Luckily, adorable and caring hotel clerk Rachel (Mila Kunis) is there for support—and maybe more. By now, we all know the raunchy/sweet, improvisational MO of the Judd Apatow gang movies (he produced this), but Forgetting Sarah Marshall distinguishes itself with strong storytelling and vivid characterizations that go just far enough to amuse without devolving into Cartoon Land.
Iron Man—If not for a Certain Acclaimed Blockbuster, this would easily be 2008’s best superhero film. As is, it’s a fantastic film that delivers the action goods without sacrificing story or character. Robert Downey, Jr. brought his career roaring to new heights as the funny, evolving Tony Stark, who has a traumatic experience in Afghanistan and decides to change from weapons magnate to advocate for peace. The scenes with Stark developing his super suit have the same sense of wonder and discovery that made Spider-man such a delight. Meanwhile, Gwyneth Paltrow imbues Stark’s long-suffering (and smitten) assistant Pepper Potts with enough depth and likability to remind us why she became a movie star in the first place.
Sex and the City—No, I’m not one of those gays who gathered around the television for each week’s installment of the HBO megahit. But I was game to see the big screen version with my friend Elon (a devoted fan) and was pleasantly surprised by just how good this movie is. Yes, it’s an entertaining and often witty romp filled with glitzy fashions. (This has to be the biggest ode to conspicuous consumption since The Devil Wears Prada pretended to condemn materialism while celebrating it in every frame.) But it’s also a surprisingly dark and affecting look at broken hearts and the enduring power of love and forgiveness. Besides, the cast’s lived-in chemistry with each other is an alluring entertainment in its own right.
The Strangers—The horror genre is in a weird place right now. We’ve got torture porn, a trend that mercifully seems to be on its way out (though I anticipate annual Saw sequels through 2015). We’ve got a seemingly endless stream of remakes, most of which are as bland as they are unnecessary. But here’s a movie that’s simple, stark, and incredibly effective. The best elements of Halloween—from the shadowy camerawork to the masked killers and spooky sound design—combine into a power house scare show that knocked this horror junkie off his feet. Liv Tyler’s vividly emotional performance as the victimized Kristen helps sell the harrowing this-could-happen-to-you-scenario. Why’d the killers pick them? “Because you were home.” That lack of rhyme or reason may be The Strangers’ biggest scare of all.
The Dark Knight—What can I say about this massively popular, tremendously lauded film that hasn’t already been said? That it’s deftly plotted? Politically relevant? Fabulously acted—especially by Heath Ledger as an indelibly vivid Joker? Said, said, and said. Aaron Eckhart probably hasn’t received enough attention for his complex and sympathetic portrayal of Harvey/Two Face, though, and I will say that the action sequences are killer—just because a movie is deep and dark doesn’t mean it can’t have bad-ass set pieces.
The Pineapple Express—Compared to the humanistic Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Pineapple Express is business as usual for Judd Apatow: broad characters, wackiness, and a secondary plot. It’s a 21st century stoner movie with an action template: Dale (Seth Rogen) and his dealer Saul (James Franco), two sorta-buddies, are forced to go on the run after Dale inadvertently witnesses a murder. What elevates this farce beyond being merely entertaining is Franco’s outstanding performance (he inhabits this lovable flake in the deepest way possible) and that trademark dash of sweetness that balances out all the drug and sex jokes. By the end, Dale’s come to see Saul as more than the “loser” who supplies him his weed—he respects and cares for him as a friend. Altogether now: awww.
Milk—It took years of development and half a dozen false starts, but the wait was worth it for this biopic of legendary gay activist Harvey Milk. Sean Penn gives a bravura performance as the charismatic Milk, who overcame the odds to become America’s first openly gay man in office; the film tells the story of his years in San Francisco, where he became “the Mayor of Castro Street” and helped mobilize an entire generation to fight for gay rights before his tragic assassination by a disgruntled colleague. None of the criticisms that have been lodged at this film—that it’s built on biopic clichés and is occasionally preachy (both of which are more or less true)—have diminished my tremendous affection and respect for it. It’s a hopeful and inspiring tale, full of detail and brilliant acting—standouts in the latter category include Emile Hirsch as queer spitfire (and future AIDS Quilt creator) Cleve Jones and Josh Brolin as the conflicted and murderous Dan White. As Milk says in the movie, “You gotta give ‘em hope”—and that’s exactly what this beautifully rendered film does, at a time when the gay community (youth especially) needs it more than ever.

"You gotta give 'em hope"

Last night I saw Milk, the fantastic new film from Gus Van Sant. Sean Penn stars-- in a buzzy, Oscar-worthy performance-- as Harvey Milk, America's first openly gay man to win public office. Penn shares the screen with a strong ensemble that includes James Franco as Milk's long-suffering lover/campaign manager Scott and Josh Brolin as conflicted politician Dan White (whose resentment of the flamboyant and successful Milk boils over into rage and murder). The standout-- besides Penn-- is Emile Hirsch as colorful, fiercely energetic Cleve Jones, who's brought out of his youthful aimlessness and inspired to become a powerful activist. (Jones went on to create the AIDS Quilt; I was lucky enough to meet the man at a recent New York Times Talk and was in awe of all the history he's lived through-- and influenced.) Hirsch expertly embodies this empowered, plucky queer, to such a degree that I really think he's a young actor to watch. (He already garnered strong notices for his starring role in Penn's film Into the Wild.) The movie starts like a Shakespearean tragedy, immediately establishing that its hero will eventually be assassinated, along with San Francisco mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber). Penn is narrating his life story onto a tape labeled "just in case," well aware that his audacious activism has made him a target. We flash back to 1970, when Milk flirts with a cute young man (Franco) in the subway and the two spend the night together. They eventually move to San Francisco, where Milk opens up a camera shop on Castro Street that quickly becomes a community center. Galvanized by the city's homophobia (police, Milk notes, are none too pleased with the neighborhood's new found status as a gay mecca) and by successful efforts to mobilize gays to boycott hostile businesses, Milk decides to run for office. After a string of failed attempts, he finally wins when district rezoning lets the Castro elect him to the Board of Supervisors by a landslide. The campaigning takes its toll on Milk's relationship, however, and Scott leaves when he tires of playing second fiddle to politics. (He remains a friend and ally, however; the emotional chemistry between the actors is richly drawn, and their intimacy is palpable.) Milk soon finds new love with Jack (Diego Luna), a troubled Spaniard; but he has bigger concerns, like growing animosity with would-be ally, Supervisor White, and the need to defeat Proposition 6, which would block gays from teaching in public schools. (The parallel with this year's Proposition 8 is undeniable, especially when Milk declares anti-6 fliers that don't even mention gays as bloodless and ineffectual; the same criticism was lodged at anti-8 commercials.) Milk is up to these challenges, though, expertly using his charm and innate skill at playing the political game to achieve his ends. Van Sant portrays the events with clarity and real human drama, working from Dustin Lance Black's shrewd and insightful screenplay. At times, the movie can feel a little After-School-Special-ish in its gung-ho approach to activism, but that's a minor quibble for a film so rich and beautiful. Van Sant imbues the film with detail and compassion, and it's a gift to both film buffs and gay youth, who are sure to find inspiration and hope in this tale of a gay man who was determined to destroy the closet and win civil rights by any means necessary. I, for one, feel like getting involved again; Prop 8's passage proved that the battle is far from over. Harvey would be proud.