I apologize for not writing this sooner.
Twenty days. Why did the final five take that long to write? The most obvious explanation is I tortured myself on the ordering. About a week ago, any of these five films could have been No. 1 in my mind.
But that is just a partial explanation for this lateness. My personal life has been tumultuous this month. That’s not to say I don’t have a lot to be thankful for. But let’s say my brain has been rather weak. Only now do I consider my wits restored.
No. 5 - “Inland Empire” (2006)
When you get down to it, director/writer David Lynch asks a lot from you with his longest and weirdest movie. The good news is that “Inland Empire” doesn’t require you to watch it in one sitting. Or at least, that’s been the case for me.
The following thought is probably going to doom my reputation as a Serious Commentator, but I feel I have a very odd relationship with “Inland Empire.” As I implied, I’m fine with watching this movie in multiple sittings, and the main reason for this sentiment isn’t the 179-minute running time. Simply put, “Inland Empire” can overload you mentally and emotionally if you accept Lynch’s rejection of a narrative rulebook.
Ultimately, the film is a visceral mystery. Now, now, what the fuck does that mean? As I follow Laura Dern’s confused protagonist through nightmarish cul-de-sacs, I find myself just as clueless and stupefied as she is. Watching “Inland Empire,” you will sometimes have trouble determining whether there is more than one mystery, and if you decide there are multiple mysteries, do you need multiple answers, or does one solution solve the entire puzzle? If the previous sentence leads you nowhere, that is exactly how you feel during the majority of “Inland Empire”—in short, you are never removed from the fear and anxiety of Dern’s character.
And a quick word about Dern. She gives an amazing performance. Somehow, she is able to satisfy Lynch’s craziest wishes and translate her character into a woman we can understand. It’s a daring role that is often difficult to define but always impressive. I was particularly moved by the scenes in which Dern describes the violence she enacted on men. Her delivery during these scenes makes me squirm and guffaw.
There is something I feel I should address: the absence of “Mulholland Dr.” from this list. Frankly, I have no idea why anyone would prefer that film to “Inland Empire,” as the latter features far better acting, writing, and directing. “Mulholland Dr.” is a contrived and humorless combination of ideas. “Inland Empire,” on the other hand, is a fully realized film that Lynch wittily sums up for us: “A Woman In Trouble.”
So yeah, you’re goddamn right I’ll take a challenging and funny movie over a dull, meaningless phenomenon.
No. 4 - “Inglourious Basterds” (2009)
I have to do two things with this entry. First, I have to justify why this film made my list. Second, I have to explain why and how this film deconstructs World War II pictures. I am addressing the second point because some people have inaccurately suggested that “Inglourious Basterds” is sort of a mindless but fun revenge fantasy. In reality, that conclusion is oversimplification.
But yes, it is irrevocable that the film is a lot of fun. Director/writer Quentin Tarantino is all about having a good time at the movies, often through homage. As Tarantino intended, “Inglourious Basterds” is “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” in a World War II setting, with Shoshanna being The Good, Hans Landa being The Bad, and Aldo Raine being The Ugly. This fact, among other things such as faulty subtitles and obtrusive segments narrated by Samuel L. Jackson, proves that we are supposed to have a blast with the story.
At the same time, this movie has a surprising amount of substance from a film history standpoint. Had any WWII movie rejected historical accuracy to this extent? No, they never dared to. At best, WWII films strived for historical accuracy and/or relied on action sequences. “Inglourious Basterds” clearly dismisses both trends. This conclusion is evident in Tarantino’s decisions as a writer and director. For example, why spit on historical accuracy in one monumental scene but pay such careful attention to language throughout the film? While these decisions may seem contradictory at first, they work together to defy convention and audience expectations. Most importantly, Tarantino wants us to laugh, particularly when it’s inappropriate to do so.
And if you still don’t think “Inglourious Basterds” deconstructs WWII films, take this challenge. Watch both “The Dirty Dozen” and “Schindler’s List” and explain how “Inglourious Basterds” champions the goals of these films. I predict you will have trouble finishing such an analysis since “Inglourious Basterds” resembles a critique of these films far more than it resembles, well, them.
Some have called “Inglourious Basterds” disrespectful. Others say you cannot justify its running time (whereas I value the film’s Hitchcockian suspense). But these complaints seem rather minute when one considers that film has the power to kill Hitler and make our mouths water as whipped cream is applied to a strudel. Our reactions to “Inglourious Basterds” typify the concept of being alive. Insert a rant about what art should do here.
No. 3 - “No Country For Old Men” (2007)
Out of these top five films, “No Country For Old Men” has the tightest plot. To use an appropriate cliché, the film is like clockwork. A look at the practical side of the directing/writing team of Joel and Ethan Coen is elucidating. On the set of a Coen brothers film, the tone is relatively relaxed. If you ask Joel what to do and then go to Ethan, you will get the same answer. This confident attention to detail is evident in all their films, but it is most apparent in “No Country For Old Men.” Why? Because their script closely follows a Cormac McCarthy book that assuredly presents description after description in concise sentences.
The Coens are genre whores, too. Genre-wise, the essence of “No Country For Old Men” is encapsulated in the scene where Tommy Lee Jones’ Sheriff Bell opens a hotel room door, his cowboy silhouette representing the mixture of the film noir and western genres. But the movie also contains a fair bit of action (more than any other film by the Coens), and Anton Chigurh is like a horror movie villain in that he always moves forward for another kill. Of course, no Coen brothers film would be complete without comedy, as the darker variety can be found in "No Country For Old Men."
Damn, two paragraphs in and I’m still sucking off the Coens as a general phenomenon. But isn’t that enough? “No Country For Old Men” is the epitome of something we’re familiar with as filmgoers. This film will never be remembered as a great thing by itself. A substantial chunk of its appeal is that it showcases the Coens in top form …
No, that’s not everything. The story is fucking great and very much resembles what McCarthy wrote in his book, which demonstrates the Coens’ eye for what can work in film rather than the philosophy that all adaptations should be faithful. But beyond the theme of an old man not keeping up with the times, there is the face of Chigurh, portrayed by Javier Bardem. Chigurh’s face is symbolic of nothing certain. We can’t tell where he’s from. We don’t know what he’s thinking. We just know that destiny follows him.
Funny. A strange man with a silly haircut is a great visual definition of the universe.
No. 2 - “There Will Be Blood” (2007)
An underrated aspect of “There Will Be Blood” is its sense of humor. The final scene is a self-referential joke from director/writer P.T. Anderson, who has a history of unusual endings (just watch “Boogie Nights” and “Magnolia”). Comparisons to “Citizen Kane” and “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” are apt, but it's a sinister final wink that makes “There Will Be Blood” stand out, and Stanley Kubrick has the patent on that. And like Kubrick’s work, “There Will Be Blood” has a soundtrack that takes on a life of its own while playing off the visuals. (The soundtrack is Johnny Greenwood's greatest accomplishment. Yes, better than the drivel with Radiohead. As a recovering admirer of progressive rock, I interject unnecessary insults about its followers, even when I like them.)
Notwithstanding that Anderson was looking to Kubrick for guidance, “There Will Be Blood” is a distinct creation. Anderson’s dialogue, for example, is strange in how it can fit a story that takes place in the early 1900s but still evoke contemporary culture. Thankfully, even if you don’t listen to OutKast, “brother from another mother” is funny enough as a phrase to work without the reference.
There's also this unknown actor called Daniel Day-Lewis who plays the lead role, Daniel Plainview. His performance is as masterful as any in film history. The voice, physicality, and personality of Plainview are often ridiculously blunt. During the scene in which Plainview performs his first execution, Day-Lewis no longer looks human, contorting his face into an uncomfortable ugliness. Yet in other scenes, I could only laugh at how evil he is, his threats delivered as naturally as we would say “Hello” to a friend.
“There Will Be Blood” works on more than one level and achieves every lofty goal of Anderson. That's the main point here. It's a fantastic character study, a unique comedy, a brutal commentary on American capitalism, and a technical achievement that is scary in its audaciousness. When oil catches fire, the film is an eerie hell and every aspect of its design a brilliant flame nonetheless inseparable from the other in the demonic mise-en-scène.
No. 1 - “Grizzly Man” (2005)
Although “Grizzly Man” is directed by Werner Herzog, it is the work of two great filmmakers: Herzog and the late Timothy Treadwell, who lived with grizzly bears for 13 summers and videotaped more than 100 hours of his work. Indeed, a notable aspect of “Grizzly Man” is Herzog’s acknowledgement of some of the wondrous shots Treadwell set up in the wilderness, many of them unintentionally beautiful.
And yeah, I hope no one has a problem with a documentary being the No. 1 film of the 2000s. I certainly don’t, especially when it involves Herzog, who has blurred the line between feature film and documentary for decades. “Grizzly Man” is as much of a character study, with Herzog making assumptions like any good storyteller, as it is a biography. But I would argue the film goes even further than that. During several scenes, I find myself as fascinated with the mentality of Herzog. When Treadwell remarks on the general beauty of nature, Herzog reveals that he disagrees with Treadwell’s assessment. When a close friend of Treadwell wonders what to do with an audio recording of Treadwell’s death, Herzog insists that she must never listen to the tape and destroy it. Of course, these moments involving Herzog do not outnumber those that deal with Treadwell’s character, but they are just as moving and human.
This is not to say that Herzog relies on his own perception to interpret the actions of Treadwell. Herzog’s various interviewees range from people who loved Treadwell for everything he was to those who questioned or condemned his quest to save the bears. After you finish this film, you are not left with a one-dimensional portrait of the character (unlike the incredibly overrated 2000s documentary, “Man On Wire”). Treadwell is foolish and inspired, courageous and outrageous, tragic and detestable, funny and depraved.
I am still amazed at the sheer watchability of “Grizzly Man.” The foundation of the film is built on information, but the story is sold with emotion. This paradox is perhaps the reason I consider Herzog the greatest narrator in film history. His calm voice—an incredible sound, as German as it is English—convicts me to look for truth as my heart would have it.
