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.

Darkest before the dawn

This past weekend saw the record-breaking release of The Dark Knight, the highly anticipated sequel to Batman Begins. As a life-long Batman fan, I would have been excited for this movie no matter what-- especially considering how much I enjoyed Christopher Nolan's first installment, a moody and action-packed origin story. But after the death of Heath Ledger, who completely reinvents Batman's greatest nemesis the Joker, I was more eager than ever. The arrival of Joker had been teased at the end of Begins, and many wondered if it was a good idea; after all, Jack Nicholson's portrayal in Batman (1989) was terrific and seemed all but definitive. The announcement of Ledger seemed strange indeed; after all, while he was a respected actor, his good looks seemed incongruous with the bizarre character. But every on-set report and early review suggested he was creating something special... and the movie itself was touted as outstanding in virtually every aspect. I'm happy to report that everything you've heard about The Dark Knight is true. It's relentlessly dark. It's dense and thought provoking. And yes, Ledger is mesmerizing-- but more on that later. The Gotham City we return to here is a little different than the one depicted in Batman Begins. The criminals have been forced to regroup and go under the radar; a host of well-meaning fools have donned makeshift Batman costumes in an attempt to "help"; and the police and the population at large have decided they might not be so crazy about their newfound protector. (There's actually a warrant out for his arrest; between this movie and Hancock, superheros have it tough this summer!) Even Batman/Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) isn't sure how he feels about the state of things. He's annoyed by the wannabes and both inspired and threatened by Harvey Dent (a superb Aaron Eckhart), a hot shot D.A. who looks like Gotham's great white hope-- but is also romancing Bruce's old flame Rachel. (This time, Ray Ray's portrayed by Maggie Gyllenhaal, who is much more adept at playing a grown-up than Katie Holmes was.) Into this fray enters the Joker, a mysterious, makeup-wearing maniac who seems motivated by nothing more or less than a destructive and anarchic glee. Joker's sudden dominance over gangland sets in motion an unsettling chain of events that have cops, citizens, and elected officials scrambling in panic. (I was on edge for pretty much this entire movie; Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard's sublimely menacing score only enhances this effect.) Over the course of two and a half hours (a little too long, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?), we watch events awash in moral complexity as the characters clash, strategize, and mourn. There are schemes on both sides, intense battles, and tragic losses. Nolan's film plays out on a grand scale, but never succumbs to the sort of mindless drivel that permeates too many lesser comic book movies. What he's aiming for here is something subtler, darker, and infinitely more effecting than a mere collection of stylized set pieces. He certainly engaged a dynamite cast to bring his vision to life: Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine, and Gary Oldman all engage in supporting roles; only Bale, so appealing and multi-dimensional in Batman Begins, seems in need of meatier material. Plus, that heinously exaggerated rasp he uses as Batman has got to go. (He seems to fall victim to the same problem that plagued original big-screen Batman Michael Keaton; he's outshone by his villains and supporting cast.) But back to Ledger: all sympathy and hype aside, his performance here is nothing short of extraordinary. He owns every scene he's in and always leaves you wanting more. Ledger hits just the right notes of creepiness and humor, expertly crafting one of the great screen baddies of all time. Scenes like his opening proposal to Gotham's criminals (they're ready to shoot him on sight, but he ensures they're forced to take him with deadly seriousness) and his sinister taunting of a guard ("How many of your friends have I killed?" he asks in a sing-song crazy voice that stops just short of camp) are gruesomely, unforgettably compelling. Ledger's willingness to so thoroughly immerse himself in the character, even appearing in drag for one memorable sequence, signify him as one of the greatest young actors of the 21st century. It's certainly a shame that neither Ledger nor movie fans will ever be able to revisit his dazzling interpretation of the Joker. Meanwhile, Eckhart follows his own character's journey from hard-working do-gooder to tragic monster; 13 years after Tommy Lee Jones' hackneyed turn in Batman Forever (1995), we're finally getting the psychologically complex, deeply disturbing Two Face we deserve. (Be warned: Harvey's mutilated visage is not for the faint of heart.) In the end, The Dark Knight shines as a rich and rewarding cinematic experience, one that pushes the boundaries of not just the superhero mythos but film in general. I can't wait to see it again.