("/ /"=repeat; "*"=theatrical viewing)

[new format a total rip-off of Jeremy Heilman's screening log]

1. Ararat (Atom Egoyan, 2002)* - B [Pretty damn solid, if a tad corny and convoluted; I'm still surprised the reviews are so mixed for such an intriguing, complex, intelligent, and most significantly unresolved journey into the realm of historical truth and slander. Definitely a step above Godard's whining about Schindler's List, even if I like In Praise of Love a bit better overall.]

2. JLG/JLG (Jean-Luc Godard, 1995) - C- [No amount of elliptical pseudo-philosophy and boorish, arid beauty can disguise the fact that Jean-Luc is basically saying with this one that he has no way of acting like a real human being, although it's not that hard to sit through.]

The Last Bolshevik (Chris Marker, 1992) - B [A requiem for film and communism, about a director who thought the two could help each other but ended up destroying each other. Although he's a little more conventional than I had imagined, this confirms the compliments I've heard bestowed on Chris Marker: that he's a documentarian who comments on images with images.]

The Long Day Closes (Terence Davies, 1992) - B [Beautiful and everything (especially that haunting last shot) but almost too honest about itself, and I barely remember it after watching all that Davies; this is sorta like "porta-Davies."]

The Neon Bible (Terence Davies, 1995) - B+ [I have to be the only person on earth who thinks this thematically dead, astonishingly beautiful movie is better than The Long Day Closes, which is probably actually about something. Alas, this has more of those moments, those wonderful Davies moments.]

Terence Davies Trilogy (Terence Davies, 1984) - B [That's an overall rating... overall the shorts are a bit too obvious and draggy but the middle one can be rather amazing, and they stay with you. The structure here of looking back on one's life is kinda Wild Strawberries-ish, but Davies films with his spirit, instead of some sort of intellectualized existential topography.]

6. /Singing in the Rain (Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly, 1952)/* - A+ [Unlike Seven Samurai, L'Avventura, and Metropolis, here's a great movie that really is even better and richer and more fun in the theater. Woah...]

7. The Crime of Padre Amaro (Carlos Carrera, 2002)* - B- [Typically wonderful Gael Garcia Bernal work, relatively even-handed satire/melodrama, really, really hot lead actress. This was one of the worst movie-going experiences of my life though, just because of the audience: little kids running around, yelling; a woman, actually answering her cell phone and carrying on a conversation during the fucking movie. Jesus...]

8. The Seventh Seal (Ingmar Bergman, 1957) - C+ [Boy, am I getting sick of Bergman constantly managing to place theme above characterization without managing to give the characters any weight as people. I think it's his worst movie that I've seen yet; talk about self-plagiarizing...]

/Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998)/ - A- [Watched this one purely out of compulsion, and I must say that I can relate much more to Olivia Williams' Ms. Cross than ever before, which practically makes me sad. What a beautiful movie, what a beautiful ending.]

Alphaville (Jean-Luc Godard, 1965) - A [A sublime self-reflection, for many reasons. Godard here takes into account the classic themes here of paranoia and sexual alienation of two genres he uses specifically here, noir and science fiction, to create an essay on the insecurity of his own art: in the end, why does a filmmaker make a noir or a sci-fi flick? To reflect on their own paranoia within the movie-making system, to reflect on the sexual politics of their society? Is art remembered for what the artist is trying to say or for the reason the artist is trying to say it? Or, as the last line may suggest, petty, resolute catharsis (which, strangely enough, doesn't feel out of place; if the girl isn't a human being but rather a reflection of the idea of a human being achieving triumph by matching small human characteristics, why does it matter?).]

9. Sisters (Brian De Palma, 1973) - B+ [Weird-ass Hitch-homage, like Vertigo + Psycho + some LSD. I can't say if it exactly completely came together for me (the race issues, psychological interplay, the opening and ending so obviously trickily intellectual that De Palma might as well have just skipped the whole surface and "story" and called this one Voyeurism: Brian's Aventures in Vertigoland), but it's fascinating and chilling nonetheless.]

12. Floating Weeds (Yasujiro Ozu, 1959) - B+ [Ozu being one of the few directors who can make intellectual optimism seem genuine. So many lovely images here; did Terry Zwigoff see the ending by any chance?]

13. All or Nothing (Mike Leigh, 2002)* - B- [Quite lovely in parts; the acting and solemn compositions are wonderful. Too bad it tries to stretch out its desperately optimistic tone waaayyy too long to the point of overstatement.]

In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950)* - A [Bogey can act? On the whole this isn't quite as amazingly subtle and emotional as Johnny Guitar, but it packs an intimately reflexive punch; Dixon Steele is the epitomy of nihilistic artistry.]

14. Saturday Night Fever (John Badham, 1977) - A- [What can I say about this? That the Beegee's, Travolta's dancing, and the solemn resolution of the picture rock; that it's similar to 8 Mile right down to the girl he keeps rejecting who looks like Brittany Murphy; that there's a certain poetry/philosophical ambiguity to the naivete of the direction and story. It's dated; in a good way.]

15. Swept Away (Lina Wertmuller, 1974) - C+ [It's less hypocritically pornographic and more thoughtful than Salo, but I had the same problem: it reduces sex to a political metaphor and politics to sex, and as a result the transformations that take place in the film aren't just hard to believe, they're kind of disturbingly pat, especially for such a slow movie that goes on for so long. Lead actress, who looks like Shelley Duvall meets Monica Vitti, is hot.]

Hi, Mom (Brian De Palma, 1970) - B- [Watchable De Palma oddity, voyeurism voyeurism voyeurism blah blah blah blah blah, and the young, great De Niro is in it, who single-handedly makes OK material hilarious (ex. lying to the girlfriend constantly, timing everything; truly brilliant fight between life and cinema). Some other non-De Niro bits are memorable too; there's a gratingly funny, provocative, and fucking scary recording of an African American vigilante theater group that is truly a cinematic approximation of white guilt... but, since I'm probably not making a lot of sense here, you can sense that these fun little bits don't really amount to that much.]

Lessons in Darkness (Werner Herzog, 1992) - B [Half-assed philosophy cobbled together with some of the most remarkable crane shots ever filmed in a 50-minute symphony of oil, fire, industrialism, humanity, etc. Not exactly mind-blowing, but it's intriguingly vague for a "documentary," (at times it feels like a sci-fi flick), and, well, it's really goddamn beautiful.]

Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders, 1984) - A- [A story told nary many flaws with all the heart and mystery it needs to work. The first scene in the stripper booth is one of the most genuinely moving I've seen in quite some time; I liked this a lot better than the overrated Wings of Desire.]

16. Autumn Sonata (Ingmar Bergman, 1978) - B- [Oh really, is it really deeply traumatizing to be a musician whose passive aggressive mother ignored her and her retarded sister as a child, and to now be meeting with that mother and be confessing/commiserating with her many years later? Isn't time really damaging and stuff? Will we ever overcome our own deep inherent traumatic sadness? Will we? I dunno.]

Streamers (Robert Altman, 1983) - B+ [Play-ish, obviously, but the acting is incredible, and so is Altman's sense of companionship. I'm thinking the whole thing may be a microcosmic motivational metaphor for the Vietnam War, and that's probably bullshit, but nevertheless, this is a haunting film with people you know.]

17. /The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, 2001)/ - C- [I used to like this movie? Really, the disturbing undercurrent here is that hobbits are Good and demons are Bad and therefore their quest is Righteous. Really. There is no fucking real conflict of any consequence outside of the realm of Christian ideals. Ignore the flaming pussy, Frodo. Don't submit to the temptation of the ring. Jesus saves. Yadda yadda yadda. Yuck.]

They Live by Night (Nicholas Ray, 1949) - A [Yet another (yawn) transcendent masterpiece from Ray, featuring what has to be the most deeply moving last shot of a face this side of The 400 Blows. I mean, Altman's Thieves Like Us was an interesting genre experiment and all, but this, as Godard might have said, is cinema, dude.]

18. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Peter Jackson, 2002)* - D [Truly insidious, tedious filmmaking, for people who want to be assured that their struggle is the right one by showing us thin exposition and endless, meaningless carnage. Kinda like Pearl Harbor, but more pretentious.]

19. Chicago (Rob Marshall, 2002)* - C+ [Sometimes very entertaining yet irredeemably hollow. The more I think about it, the less I like it; it's essentially a poor man's Mulholland Drive. At least it has plenty of energy and spunk, but too bad it doesn't really go anywhere.]

20. Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002)* - A- [Um, I need to see it again, although after TTT it is soooo nice to care when people get killed. Basically this is a clumsily paced and edited invigorating masterpiece. I wish it were only those last two things though...]

/Punch-Drunk Love (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002)/* - A [Ah...]

21. 25th Hour (Spike Lee, 2002)* - A- [Despite what I had heard about it, I began to get a little worrisome during the Do-the-Right-Thing-ish mirror sequence: had Lee run out of ideas? But it's just one piece of how ambitious (and mostly successful) this film is: an essay both on the state of contemporary post-9/11 NY and how it has affected people in the subtlest of ways, as an allegory, and as a kind of sequel to DtRT, saying that the NY of that movie is still around, only with a little jab in the sense of community and risk.]

22. Adaptation (Spike Jonze, 2002)* - B [Disappointingly not-really-that-funny compared to my expectations for it; still, I can't help but argue with those who say the ending doesn't work and doesn't take the characters anywhere when OF COURSE it does, that's the whole point goddamnit.]

Devils on the Doorstep (Jiang Wen, 2000)* - B+ [Had some trouble connecting with this one, as I wasn't sure where to put my ideology in the story, but in the end it's really powerful stuff, starting with the massacre and ending with that heart-breakingly unexpected last shot. Kind of reminded me of Masaki Kobayashi's system-questioning films, especially Harakiri.]

Dog Star Man (Stan Brakhage, 1964) - C [Revolutionary boredom.]

23. Intacto (Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, 2001)* - B [I guess I had enough fun with this one, but its internal logic certainly makes less sense than this year's other metaphysical Max VonSydow-costarring thriller, and it drags a little more too. Biggest hole: if you just have some random picture of some guy, does that mean you can take their luck? Still, yeah, fun.]

24. She's Gotta Have It (Spike Lee, 1986) - B- [Not much here in the way of depth, but underneath the sitcom exterior you can sense the politically relevant Spike itching to get out. Plus it's nice to see such an unself-conscious movie without any white people.]

Love Streams (John Cassavetes, 1984) - B- [It would probably be more powerful if it weren't so repetitive and obvious, but it seems here anyway that Cassavetes is trying to show his beating heart in front of the camera, and that his honesty is both telling and unfortunately a little bit boring.]

Russian Ark (Alexander Sokurov, 2002)* - B+ [Surprisingly, I was hardly ever bored, partly because this must be the most beautiful DV feature yet, partly because it's fucking amazing, and partly because the gimmickry and historical philosophy are directly intertwined. If Sokurov wanted to make me feel like I was floating in space-time, he succeeded to at least a moderate extent, and that's quite an achievement.]

/Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002)/* - A- [I saw it again with my parents.]

25. A Moment of Innocence (Mohsen Makhmalbaf, 1996) - A- [Me, the one who is bored by most vague, minimalist, self-reflexive Iranian movies, was entranced by this one, because its reflexivity is so honest and dense and built on emotion, and not impenetrable whatsoever. Made me think about the repetition of events and feelings in a way that the too-obvious Autumn Sonata never approached.]

Catch Me If You Can (Steven Spielberg, 2002)* - A [Such a rich feast of a movie, really: an amazingly balanced and effective coming-of-age drama posing (and succeeding) as a comedy. There is real, surprising chemistry between DiCaprio and Hanks, and the scene at the factory in France is so perfectly lit and so honest and so captivating I almost cried. Basically, what makes it a great movie is that it starts out letting us have fun with Frank, and ends showing us that we all have to know we're living in a practical world.]

About Schmidt (Alexander Payne, 2002)* - B [Simple-minded and sometimes condescending to its characters (although the film is seen through Schmidt's attitude, isn't it?), but something about the way that the ending contradicts Nicholson's incessant cynicism is very moving, and there's a scene where Schmidt approaches an insightful woman he meets along the road that is so true and telling that it's painful to watch. katemossmightbelieveingod will hate it though.]

26. Morvern Callar (Lynne Ramsay, 2002)* - B [As much as the pure imagery of the opening and Sam Morton's performance and the stunning ending affected me (cool soundtrack, too), I wanted a little bit more. I think Lynne Ramsay needs to fully learn the difference between artistry and artiness, as consistently watchable and lyrical as this feature is.]

He Got Game (Spike Lee, 1998) - B+ [Touching and multi-layered, typically ambitious study of the overwhelming Hoop Dreams-esque world of basketball surrounding a high school student. It gets a bit trite, but Lee's straightforwardness, colored filters and flashbacks are all necessary; he lends the sport a strange weight that carries into the drama.]

27. Eureka (Shinji Aoyama, 2000) - B [Aoyama's objective here is to mold an impression of the characters' souls and connections into your brain as they traverse away from tragedy and attempt to be normal -- or simply to relieve themselves the way they need to. I can't say I'm crazy about it, but the level of ambition and for the most part success here deserves praise.]

The Pianist (Roman Polanski, 2002)* - C [Very dull holocaust piffle. I can't see what people like about it; that it rips off every other holocaust movie ever made (bear in mind that I love Schindler's List, Life Is Beautiful, and The Grey Zone) and proceed to have an utter lack of characterization, dramatic impact, personality. Arc: Pianist. Enjoys playing piano. Nazis invade. People die. Pianist survives. Starts playing piano again. And happily ever after. Yes, it's as boring as it sounds.]

The Hours (Stephen Daldry, 2002)* - D+ [An enormously pretentious, overblown failure; Daldry couldn't direct himself pissing without hammering the action home. And the story and the message is all new-age hooey -- offensive hooey, too. It seems to imply that the only way women can escape from their (contrived, here) dreary heterosexual intellectualism is to live the same lives as other women, and fuck other women. Dude, shut up. You DON'T understand women.]

28. Max (Menno Meyjes, 2002)* - B+ [Hmm... lots of flaws here (the way Rothman and Hitler converse seems not to advance their relationship but to advance what the movie is saying about their differences; the self-conscious nature of the project) but I have to highly recommend it. This is the sort of person Hitler might have been -- an artist not satisfied with the world of art, only relying on political action as his sole aesthetic. And in a scary way, his philosophy makes sense. We've all had our artistic dead ends, the moments when we feel that what we're trying to express is useless, that we need to see the world as a reflection of ourselves. Cusack, as Rothman, provides compelling and complex contrast, and is spontaneous in this performance as ever.]

Songs From the Second Floor (Roy Andersson, 2000) - B+ [Undeniably visionary and sometimes glorious. This is a society where people march to their work and their deaths, and it grounds everyone as the same (the poet keeps saying, "Jesus was just a nice guy!"). I was affected.]

4 Little Girls (Spike Lee, 1997) - B [Not exactly Complex, but it is a celebration of the emotions of the people in it, and a lament not on hate but on what hate does to people. The most surprising and moving moment comes when an ex-pro-segregation governor grabs a black man from offside and says in a raspy, depressed voice: "This is my best friend. We've travelled all over the world together." The man does not look so happy to be with the governor, but he does look like appearing in the film with him may be important. Is he his friend? And does this redeem the governor's political behavior?]

A Dry White Season (Euzhan Palcy, 1989) - C- [The opposite of 4 Little Girls. You could say it has similar ideals at heart, but you'd be wrong: 4 Little Girls celebrates love, A Dry White Season celebrates liberalism. It is the movie, in a way, that Jeremy Heilman wrongedly calls Bowling for Columbine. Whatever subtlety or humanity is in here is diminished by the fact that the film tells us: KILLING SOUTH AFRICAN BLACK MEN=GOOD. DEFENDING THEM IN COURT=GOOD. Duh.]

30. Slow Motion (Jean-Luc Godard, 1979) - B- [Disturbingly revolves around the idea that Godard could want to fuck little girls and uses film as a masturbatory tool to distract himself with high thought, but it's a thick, honest movie and fun to wade through as such a self-conscious reflection on the capturing of its scenes, even if it's nothing he's never done before.]

/Talk to Her (Pedro Almodovar, 2002)/* - A [Still love it. This time the shot with the dancing couples near the end overwhelmed me. Anyone who says the film doesn't contemplate the morality of Benigno is just plain wrong; the ending is both a lament for over-the-top passion and hopeful for the will to communicate.]

31. Kippur (Amos Gitai, 2000) - C [Proof that war movies shouldn't be slow, contemplative, and artsy, basically; Gitai does nothing, really, with the material, to move beyond war movie cliches. Sure, the soldiers are unenthusiastic. Sure, the sex with the paint is hot and gives the movie a sorrowful note to end on. It's not much, though.]

Nicholas Nickleby (Douglas McGrath, 2002)* - C [I was enjoying it for a while until it became unbearably precious and cute. Nicholas especially pales in comparison with a character like Frank Abagnale Jr., who was so compellingly tricky yet sincere. All Charlie Hunnam emits as Nickleby is pretty-boy virtuousness, and his scenes with Anne Hathaway are really gag-worthy. I can't remember the last time I've wanted to wring an actress' neck so badly. Oh yes. The Princess Diaries.]