Best and Worst Films of 2010

I never wanted to become that film critic. At the outset of this surprisingly laborious labor of love eight years ago, I reveled in the growth of my cinematic sensibilities, theretofore weaned on the comfort food of Spielberg and Star Wars. Masters like Godard and Fellini were joined by aspirants like Ang Lee and Mike Leigh, Alfonso Cuarón and Quentin Tarantino. The era of Francis Ford Coppola was transitioning into the age of Sofia Coppola.

In recent years, however, the well-chronicled cramming of Oscar hopefuls into the wintery heart of movie awards season has sprouted a new, insidious offshoot. Not only are movie studios chasing the calendar, but now filmmakers are chasing the critics.

The superfluity of theater screenings and DVD screeners I enjoyed the past two months was filled with yak-fests covering every stratum of personal and domestic tumult – failed marriages, coping with the death of a child, growing old, etc. Great movies have been made about these important subjects, and these films were no less earnest or well-made. But, there is a saturation point for dramatized despair, especially when it starts to feel like systemic pandering.

The films that affected me the most in 2010 were not the morose melodramas or standard-issue staples – heck, I got more enjoyment from watching Salt than The Fighter. The recurring theme in movies that mattered this year was the confluence of tradition and modernism, in its broadest sense. Whether it is an archetypal biopic situated against the backdrop of the new medium of social networking, a classic Western in which a teenage girl drives the narrative and bloodlust, or a story about defining the nuclear family in a time of same-sex parents and sperm donors, the films that moved us most were the films about moving on.

Best Film of 2010

The Social Network – It’s suddenly become passé to heap hosannas on this film about the origins of Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg, its tempestuous, brilliant creator. Director David Fincher and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin crafted a smart, seriocomic story about the blending of genius and ambition, together with a snapshot of the youthful, technological exuberance that largely defined the aughts.

2. Black Swan – Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake becomes the springboard for a modern-day exploration of duality, femininity, and the price artists pay in pursuit of creative perfection. Natalie Portman deserves an Oscar, and director Darren Aronofsky further solidifies his place among today’s filmmaking elite.

3. True Grit – Joel and Ethan Coen craft an oxymoronic update of the John Wayne classic: a traditional Western set during the twilight of the Old West and centered around revenge exacted by a 14-year-old. With Roger Deakins’ sumptuous cinematography as a backdrop and award-worthy performance from Jeff Bridges and newcomer Hailee Steinfeld, the Coen Bros. provide one of their most entertaining and accessible offerings.

4. 127 Hours – The harrowing, heroic saga of real-life mountain climber and thrill-seeker Aron Ralston (James Franco, Oscar-worthy) gives director Danny Boyle another opportunity to chronicle the perseverance of the human spirit. Ralston may lose his arm, but he gains a newfound appreciation for life and respect for the balance of nature.

5. The King’s Speech – Before King George VI of England could lead, he had to learn to speak. Such is the predicament facing not only Prince Albert (Colin Firth), but all social and political leaders since the dawn of the communication age. Firth is extraordinary, conveying inner emotions in spite of having to replicate his character’s chronic stuttering condition. Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter give solid supporting turns, and director Tom Hooper notches another triumph in his up-and-coming career.

6. Winter’s Bone – The indie surprise of the year, this plaintive parable about a once-bucolic Ozark village ravaged by an underworld of meth labs and the drug economy. As in True Grit, a teenage girl drives the storyline: here, she must navigate treacherous terrain to track down her fugitive father and save the family home. Expressive performances from Jennifer Lawrence and John Hawkes highlight writer-director Debra Granik’s haunting film.

7. The Ghost Writer – Released last February and seemingly forgotten by December, Roman Polanski’s latest – this is his first thriller since 1988’s Frantic – marks a return to his taut, neo-noir roots. Of course, there are the proverbial allusions to Polanski’s perceived persecution, along with clever use of the controversies surrounding the Iraq War. But, it’s the atmospherics that carry the day here: if this was directed by anyone else, the label “Hitchcockian” would be breathlessly bandied about.

8. The Kids Are All Right – The teenage kids of same-sex parents (Annette Bening and Julianne Moore) decide to locate their biological, sperm donor father (Mark Ruffalo). The disruption and challenges that follow could easily apply to any family, non-traditional or not. Such is the brilliance of the script by Stuart Blumberg and director Lisa Cholodenko, aided by one of the best ensemble cast performances of the year.

9. Toy Story 3 – This tertiary return of Pixar’s beloved playthings fits nicely into the studio’s blueprint of growing with its original core audience. Witty, workmanlike fun is the order of the day until the final five minutes, which packs an emotional punch about both treasuring and letting go of the past.

10. I’m Still Here – Yes, the film itself is choppy and schlocky,

But, no meta-project this year, or maybe ever, so starkly or cleverly shows the trappings of stardom and the malleable line separating fiction from reality in our multimedia age. Joaquin Phoenix deserves serious awards consideration for not only fearlessly deconstructing his public persona but also the months spent he spent exposing our voracious, unforgiving attitude towards those we call celebrities.

Worst Film of 2010

For Colored Girls – It’s bad enough that director Tyler Perry’s aim of grappling with the everyday travails of African-American women is undercut by a hyper-reality in which every man is a philanderer, rapist, murderer, pedophile, and/or HIV-positive closeted homosexual. The rest of this woefu

l adaptation of Ntozake Shange’s 1975 play is two hours of non-stop bloviating that fluctuates between rudderless and overblown. The acting doesn’t help, including some truly embarrassing turns from Thandie Newton, Whoopi Goldberg, Janet Jackson, and every emasculated male performer.

The worst of the rest – The Back-Up Plan; Dinner for Schmucks; Easy A; Eat Pray Love; Grown Ups; The Last Airbender; The Last Song; You Again; The Wolfman; When in Rome; You Again

I'm Still Here

Joaquin Phoenix stars in "The Brad Pitt Story"

Grade: B +

Director: Casey Affleck

Starring: Joaquin Phoenix

MPAA Rating: R

Running Time: 1 hour 46 minutes

The question of whether the meltdown of Joaquin Phoenix, recounted in the film I’m Not Here, is real or an elaborate hoax is at once both inconsequential and crucial to accurately assessing the picture’s merits.

For the record, I have disbelieved Phoenix’s announced withdrawal from acting and decision to launch a career as a hip-hop artist ever since his incoherent, disheveled appearance on Late Night with David Letterman back in February of 2009 to promote the film Two Lovers. While the actor’s tells from that interview are too numerous and nuanced to elucidate here, my skepticism was only heightened after viewing I’m Not Here.

Maybe the tipping point was the scene when Phoenix is offered a supporting role in the movie Greenberg during a visit to his home by funnyman Ben Stiller, the film’s star, and not Noah Baumbach, its writer-director. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the production company formed by Phoenix and Casey Affleck – Phoenix’s brother-in-law and the film’s credited director and, ahem, co-writer – is named They Are Going to Kill Us Productions. And, anyone still uncertain should stick around for the closing credits, during which they will discover that Phoenix’s father during a climactic visit to Panama is played by Tim Affleck, Ben and Casey’s dad.

Critics are divided on both Phoenix and the film’s authenticity. Roger Ebert, for one, trumpets its veracity and, after hedging his review by writing, “(i)f this film turns out to still be part of an elaborate hoax, I’m going to be seriously pissed,” goes on to lecture Phoenix about his bad behavior (“a waste of the gift of life”). Detractors declare that if this chronicle of Phoenix’s mental breakdown is real, then the film is sad and exploitative; if it is “fake,” then the entire project is just irrelevant and narcissistic.

In reality, this debate over I’m Still Here’s truthiness is both a red herring and part of the film’s reason for being. Phoenix has always had a complicated relationship with the vocation of acting, dating back to his days as a child actor. Indeed, the fact that it is likely an Andy Kaufman-esque riff on Hollywood and the trappings of celebrity actually makes certain elements of this meta-documentary more praiseworthy. For one, it transforms Phoenix’s act from pitiable to an award-worthy performance – performance art, even – ranking among the best roles of his career. The same could be said for Sean “Diddy” Combs, whom Phoenix pursues with Ahab-like zeal in an effort to convince the hip-hop mogul to produce his debut rap album. Combs lampoons his aloof public persona while also engendering an appreciation for his artistic and business acumen.

The point of I’m Still Here is not whether Joaquin Phoenix is still all there. Instead, the salient issue is the very real public reaction to his purported collapse. The film opens with a montage of accolades Phoenix received in the wake of his Oscar-nominated performance in Walk The Line: one talk show and awards gala appearance after another, answering the same vapid questions in interview after interview. Only in Hollywood can a hug and kiss be the most insincere form of personal expression.

Soon thereafter, Phoenix publically declares his intent to quit acting during an October 2008 appearance at a benefit play for Paul Newman’s Association of Hole in the Wall Camps. It is amusing to note that even as Phoenix is in the midst of ostensibly bowing out of the film industry, he complains that Affleck gets to perform with Tom Hanks and Jack Nicholson while Phoenix gets stuck reading alongside Danny DeVito.

Over the ensuing months, Affleck’s roving handheld camera – which, curiously, manages to shoot many supposedly verite conversations from multiple POVs – captures the actor’s delusionary descent. In between his pursuant of Diddy and efforts to book rap performances at clubs from Miami to Vegas, Phoenix rants like a lunatic, snorts cocaine, cavorts with call girls, and generally abuses his two man-servants/hangers-on (at least when they aren’t clipping his back hair). Principal among them is Antony “Anton” Langdon, former guitarist of the British rock band Spacehog, who spends most of the film alternately prancing around naked, allegedly selling Phoenix’s secrets to the press, and, most infamously, appearing to defecate on a sleeping Phoenix after an especially vicious argument.

While particularly repulsive, that latter scene is, strangely, the film’s most symbolic moment. I’m Still Here represents Phoenix and Affleck – both younger siblings of brothers devoured by the tabloid press – taking a giant dump on the entertainment industry. In fact, the conspicuous lack of any of mention of River Phoenix is the film’s glaring element of restraint and the most telling sign that I’m Still Here is a put-on. Any true examination of Joaquin’s scarred psyche would unavoidably require mentioning the night in 1993 when River died from a drug overdose on a Hollywood sidewalk as a 19-year-old Joaquin – who then known as Leaf – screamed for help to a 911 dispatcher.

Instead, we get Phoenix diving offstage to attack a heckler at a Miami nightclub after a particular woeful rap set, all while other patrons wear mock beards patterned after Phoenix’s comical guest spot on Letterman. Even if Phoenix’s public antics were faked, what’s undeniably “true” is the media fervor that surrounded Phoenix’s bizarre behavior, how he was pilloried for essentially daring to step outside a circumscribed box. Odd or not, all Phoenix really did publically was grow a beard and declare his desire to quit acting and take up music instead. For that, he was ridiculed mercilessly. Because it is a hoax, I’m Still Here isn’t a window into Joaquin Phoenix’s consciousness. Rather, it’s a mirror reflecting our own.

Neil Morris

*Orginally published at http://www.indyweek.com/indyweek/the-curious-case-of-joaquin-phoenix-in-im-still-here/Content?oid=1665630