'Ironclad' starts strong but becomes tedious, hypocritical

In a way, it's impressive “Ironclad” (2011) is mediocre instead of plain shitty. The film had an almost completely different cast before financing got tricky, and there are 18 executive producers in its credits. So when the squire Guy says "We held" after a tough victory, you can imagine the creative team saying the same thing.

The story of “Ironclad's” production is inspiring, but director/writer Jonathan English only makes a halfway decent historical action film. The plot concerns a Templar knight, Thomas Marshal (James Purefoy), who helps lead an effort to stop King John (an entertaining Paul Giamatti) from killing the barons who forced him to sign the Magna Carta. Marshal and Baron William de Albany (the great Brian Cox) form a group similar to that of Akira Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" and fortify Rochester Castle, King John's main target. Meanwhile, Lady Isabel (Kate Mara) is unsatisfied with her husband, the constable of Rochester. The last part sticks out because it's a pointless subplot that destroys the morality of the film.

English directs a good film for an hour or so. He emphasizes action, but the bits of dialogue are often meaningful. The best parts involve Marshal and the squire Guy. During one exchange, Marshal tells Guy it is not noble to kill. Guy asks, "Not even when it's done for freedom?" Marshal replies, "Not even when it is done for God." This line shows honor that wasn't present in Mel Gibson's “Braveheart.” Later, when Guy broods after his first kill, Marshal consoles him: "Faith, Guy. Only the weak believe that what they do in battle is who they are as men." This line counters the cynicism in Clint Eastwood's “Unforgiven,” in which William Munny doesn't share anything as insightful with the Schofield Kid.

The action in “Ironclad” is interesting at first. Although the setting and parts of the battles recall Peter Jackson’s “The Two Towers,” English’s visual style is more intense and visceral. The weapons in “Ironclad” don’t neatly slice and chop flesh and bone. One of the seven heroes, Jedediah Coteral, even uses a severed arm as a weapon. You almost find yourself believing so few men can defend Rochester Castle. That is, until the portcullis is raised under the heroes' noses and everything goes to shit. Then you have a select few survivors doing the improbable. The main problem is not believability, however. The last action scenes simply do not raise your pulse like those in Takashi Miike's “13 Assassins,” John Woo's “The Killer,” or Sam Peckinpah's “The Wild Bunch.” The outcome is predictable, but the greater flaw is that “Ironclad” offers nothing noteworthy after King John sets a bunch of pigs on fire to take out the castle's keep. Shouldn't our heroes do something as electrifying?

English compromises the morality he sets up in “Ironclad.” Marshal makes a good hero of few words, but his honor is lost when he gives into the advances of Lady Isabel (a name very close to Jezebel, the infamous woman in The Bible). Marshal resists Isabel several times because he has taken a sacred vow not to have sex. Isabel eventually convinces him he should not deny his desires. Nevermind that she's married. Nevermind that the heroes of the movie are fighting because King John failed to live up to his word. The sad thing is Purefoy and Mara have chemistry and lose it after their characters have sex (the funny thing is not even an adolescent would defend the sex – no tits!). English wastes an opportunity to illustrate the honor of Marshal and instead suggests vows aren't important, that one should do whatever one wants, just like King John, Marshal, and Isabel. Not to mention Isabel has no characterization other than her tingling vagina. But at least it’s understandable when Marshal fucks Isabel. In an earlier scene, he leaves the castle to get food … without telling anyone. Marshal says all the right things to Guy, but his decisions outside of battle are questionable. “Ironclad” pretends this moral discrepancy doesn’t exist.

English should be commended for seeing his film through production hell, but if he wants to be successful in crafting action art, he must come up with something more heroic than the second half of “Ironclad.” Even though the good guys win, their victory is hollow.

Genre and Politics in '13 Assassins'

It’s rather cool that “13 Assassins” is reminiscent of both “Seven Samurai” and “The Wild Bunch,” further reinforcing the connection between the samurai and western. Moral codes. Honor. Sentimentality. There’s a scene in “13 Assassins” of samurai being forced away by the sight of guns – a historical point with much to say about our postmodern culture that was created by numerous technological advances. Out with the old, in with the new. Not only does the scene invoke Kurosawa and Peckinpah, but it trumps the argument that the action film can’t be for thinkers.

But what makes “13 Assassins” electrifying is the stamp of Takashi Miike, an incredibly prolific director (about 40 movies since 2000!) who ignores the line between the highbrow and lowbrow. For the most part, “13 Assassins” is impressive from a technical standpoint, but Miike throws in CGI bulls on fire, an effect that really looks like shit. If I had seen such a thing in any other historical epic, you would likely be reading a mini-rant now. But in this case I remember that Miike has directed many direct-to-video productions. His lack of taste, if anything, has made the world of film more interesting and funny.

I don’t want to mislead you, though. “13 Assassins” is one of Miike’s most accessible films. The humor is sharp rather than demented. While the film is very violent, the level of violence is comparable to movies like “Saving Private Ryan.” As in “Seven Samurai,” the good guys are introduced one by one; this formula, for whatever reason, is always fun.

As agreeable as the film is to general audiences, I couldn’t help but notice subversive elements. With films like “Ichi the Killer” and “Izo,” Miike is as satirical as he is fond of genre. In “13 Assassins,” the samurai poses are very obvious (and thus awesome), but the coolness is countered by some of the deaths that follow. I found myself relishing the genre glory but losing the high moments later. Early on, images of an amputated victim approach the territory of “Audition,” Miike’s horror masterpiece.

In interviews Miike has deflected the idea that his work has social commentary. Nonetheless, “13 Assassins” touches on a few political morals. For example, the major question is whether a samurai should stay loyal to his master if the latter is corrupt and murderous. Obviously, the 13 assassins say no, and we root for them. But what are we doing in our actual lives? Are we blindly following an inhumane Military Industrial Complex and/or leader, or is our political reality not so bleak?

In “13 Assassins,” a bandit/hunter named Kiga is found in a cage and freed. Although he is of samurai lineage, he rejects samurai tradition (i.e., he fights with sticks and stones and doesn't appear to be someone willing to commit ritual suicide). He joins the cause as the thirteenth assassin but is flippant about the carnage that ensues. In a way, Kiga represents postmodern culture. Rather by direct or indirect participation, we make up a political entity that fights other political entities, but many of us are often disconnected from the traditions and sacrifices involved (even as voters). But like Kiga, we find meaning in our personal lives. But would we appreciate life more from a different perspective? Lord Naritsugu, the antagonist of the film, provides an answer with his rumination on war: “With death comes gratitude for life.” The veterans I know might agree.

'The Fighter,' My Favorite Film of 2010

When I saw the advertisement for "The Fighter" a few months ago, all I could think was that director David O. Russell ("Three Kings") was wasting his talent on a pretentious and sentimental boxing film for the all-important American dollar.

Instead, what we have here might be the most honest film of 2010. You're going to hear "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake more than once. You're going to see homely women that must make the elite Hollywood crowd wince. Hell, you're going to see and hear the two boxers and brothers this film is about, Mickey Ward and Dicky Eklund, right as the end credits roll. The hilarity and pain of real life are plastered all over this movie - unlike "Cinderella Man," which makes the Great Depression seem like a fight anyone could have won.

One of the simplest pleasures I've had in a theater is watching Christian Bale play a crack addict. Bale excels in roles in which he can't get outside of himself (e.g., "American Psycho" and "The Machinist"). In this respect, the pathetic energy of Bale's Eklund is natural. But reality catches up with him in the form of Melissa Leo, who plays Eklund's aggressive mother. Russell prevents Bale from chewing scenery by finally getting him to connect with other actors, something that only Steven Spielberg had achieved, and that was more than 20 years ago when Bale was a child in 1987's underrated "Empire of the Sun."

But really, this film has a fuckload of effective performances. I already mentioned Leo, whose acting in the film's domestic disputes brought to mind experiences from my own life (that's powerful shit, my friends). Amy Adams drops her innocence to play one of the strongest women I've seen on the screen in a while, and what's particularly inspiring is that Adams makes it clear that this strength comes from bad decisions her character must live with; there is no fake, inherently badass quality to speak of. The father, played by Jack McGee, is overpowered by the women and boxers around him, but one winds up empathizing with him as a steady figure rather than dismissing him as a pussy.

In the middle of these performances is subtle Mark Wahlberg. Yes, that's right, he's fucking subtle. He's the subtlest boxer I've watched in a film, and you need to see that. For example, after winning his first comeback match, Wahlberg isn't able to enjoy the moment because of the conflicting personalities around him, and you don't get that with a line or even a shrug, just his eyes.

At this point I could be a typical reviewer and point out that this film isn't about the fighting but the characters. But that would be bullshit. The fighting in any boxing movie is very important. Compare "Rocky" and "Raging Bull." Their stories and fights are different. Rocky has long, unrealistic fights to show us how much the underdog can overcome, and Raging Bull has short, nasty fights to accentuate the brutality of the protagonist and sport. "The Fighter" doesn't take either route. The women who parade the signs make the scene as alive as anything, as do the fools in the audience. The fights aren't spectacular or painful to watch; they simply involve people punching each other. This is the most down-to-earth boxing since "Diggstown."

I believe Russell has directed his greatest work, a decidedly humorous masterpiece of sports cinema, and it would be a shame if one avoided it because of the trailer's phony inspirational vibe. I almost did, and I would have missed my favorite film of 2010.

A Review of Christopher Nolan's Filmography or: How I Managed to Offend Some of His Fans

This entry reviews Nolan's filmography. After reading this entry, if you feel like I have said something dreadfully wrong and you are driven to dislike me to any extent, congratulations. You are a Batman Fan. But if you read this entry and disagree or perhaps find yourself nodding in agreement, you are a Normal Human Being. If you think Nolan is a shitty director, you might be a Sophisticated Filmgoer. Pat yourself on the back.

(Note: If one were to say I am biased against Batman and superheroes, I would accuse one of the opposite. There are many, many Batman and superhero stories - whether we’re talking film, television, or comic books - that I prefer over “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight.”)

Following (1998)

I had watched every Nolan film with the exception of his debut up until two weeks ago. Perhaps surprisingly, “Following” features some of Nolan’s best direction. Its black-and-white imagery, obscure cast, and unpretentious dialogue give the film a naturalism that I prefer to Nolan’s phony realism in “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight” (interestingly, you can see the Batman emblem on a door in “Following”). Initially, I was bugged by the voice-over at the beginning of the film, but this exposition is later tied into a sequence that effectively brings the story to its climax. As in “Memento,” Nolan employs a nontraditional time frame for “Following,” but in contrast to “Memento,” the time frame doesn’t resemble a gimmick. That is, Nolan isn’t simply telling the main story backward.

Memento (2000)

That one can easily follow “Memento” is evidence of Nolan’s talent as a storyteller. As the main story is told in reverse, black-and-white scenes - that move forward as a traditional story would - are interjected to illuminate the mental condition and purpose of Guy Pierce’s protagonist. When the two series of events meet, the viewer may solve the mystery (or maybe not). Much like the characters in “Following,” the players in “Memento” have dubious motives, establishing moral ambiguity as a consistent theme of Nolan’s work. My favorite scene is when Pierce cannot remember whether he is chasing or running away from someone (Nolan’s wit takes a serious blow after “Memento”). What strikes me the most about the protagonist is not his rare disease that prevents new memories but his psychological need for resolution - a need that is common among humankind and the basis for the mystery genre itself.

Insomnia (2002)

“Insomnia” features a recent Al Pacino performance that doesn’t amount to self-parody. Maybe this showcases Nolan’s potential as a filmmaker more than anything. But I digress. Nolan sets up another case of moral ambiguity with the protagonist, but he makes it awfully damn clear that Robin Williams’ character is a shit-eating piece of shit (I stole this clever line from the back of the DVD case). What worries Pacino is that he starts to realize that he might also be a shit-eating piece of shit, and to make matters worse, he’s in fucking Alaska during perpetual daylight. Thus, the man gets no rest. I dig this lesser work from Nolan, but I have to excuse Hillary Swank’s horrible go-getter role and the firefight climax that should have been saved for a dumb action movie. Finally, one should note Nolan adopts the linear narrative starting with this film.

Batman Begins (2005)

And here, Nolan throws moral ambiguity out the window (but thankfully doesn’t abandon it in his career). We can forgive him for this, however, because Liam Neeson plays the villain! Also, Cillian Murphy! (When speaking of The Villain in Batman films, the word “also” is a must.) Anyway, this movie isn’t realistic (any scene involving the redneck toy Tumbler is incredibly fucking stupid, for example), but Nolan’s main concern is showing us how Batman began, thereby making him less myth and more man (or rather, more Christian Bale-ish). I can appreciate that. What I cannot appreciate is how retarded some of the dialogue is: “It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.” Well, Jeezus Christus, just slap me with your balls while you’re at it. Lastly, Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes) gives Nolan a two-movie streak of shitty female characters, the director seemingly forgetting what he accomplished with “Following” and “Memento.”

The Prestige (2006)

Just as one can see Nolan gradually define morality with “Insomnia” and “Batman Begins,” one can see him return to the morally gray territory of “Following” and “Memento” in “The Prestige.” Neither magician in this film would be allowed in the church choir, which makes the conflict all the more decadent (and enjoyable). Nolan brilliantly creates a parallel to this conflict with a Thomas Edison vs. Nikola Tesla subplot (and getting David Bowie to play Tesla is terrific casting), granting the film an evident, but secondary, science fiction element. I would mark “The Prestige” as Nolan’s first step toward science fiction, even though others give that distinction to “Memento.” One should keep in mind that “Memento,” unlike the subplot in “The Prestige,” is primarily concerned with answers, not the backbone of quality science fiction: questions. The only major problem with “The Prestige” is the ending, a parlor trick (oh! he has a twin!) that cheapens the aforementioned conflict.

The Dark Knight (2008)

First, let me assure everyone of one thing: I do not consider “The Dark Knight” Nolan’s weakest film because it is his most successful film. I believe “The Godfather,” “Jaws,” and “Blazing Saddles” are three of the greatest films in history and the best work from their respective directors. Furthermore, in case anyone still has questions on the matter, I was blown away by “The Dark Knight” after I saw it in a theater. However, I tailored my opinion after repeated viewings and more thought.

“The Dark Knight” is Nolan’s weakest film because it is, quite frankly, full of shit (i.e., it does not accomplish what it thinks it does). Nolan pretends this film is more believable than other Batman vs. Joker stories, but it isn’t. The Joker is still able to pull off impossible scheme after impossible scheme, and Batman is still the only one who can stop him. Do I have a problem with either of these things by themselves? Of course not. However, Nolan’s pretense on the matter is absurd. And if only that were the single major flaw of the film.

Replacing Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllenhaal doesn’t change the fact that Rachel Dawes is a boring character who serves as little more than a piece of meat for the predominantly male cast.

Remember the silly line I quoted from “Batman Begins”? “The Dark Knight” is replete with this obvious Flashcard Writing. The worst offense is Commissioner Gordon’s monologue explaining the entire fucking movie, interpretative thought be damned.

Some people say moral ambiguity is at play in “The Dark Knight,” and Nolan undoubtedly shares this view, but I don’t buy it. The film is no more morally ambiguous than Burton’s two Batman films, in which the protagonist breaks the law however he sees fit to fight criminals. In fact, I would argue that Burton’s first film has more moral ambiguity insofar as Batman is directly responsible for creating the Joker via dropping Jack Napier into a chemical vat. In “The Dark Knight,” the Joker is not the effect of Batman’s existence (unless you want to argue that Nolan’s Joker wasn’t abused as a child). As Alfred Pennyworth says, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” Yeah, that’s another Glaring Flashcard for the stupid audience (which includes me and you, by the way), but it illustrates that Batman has a noble purpose and that the Joker is wrong.

“The Dark Knight” is not a bad movie, and it features one of the best performances of the 2000s (I don’t even have to say the actor’s name), but it is not a masterpiece. Also, watch “Batman: The Brave and the Bold.” OK, I’m done.

Inception (2010)

“Inception” is Nolan’s first full-fledged attempt at science fiction, and while I wouldn’t call it a knockout punch (come to think of it, I wouldn’t call any movie a knockout punch), it is a thinking person’s theme park ride. Moral ambiguity is back again. The idea of sneaking around in someone’s dream is fucked up, no matter the purpose. As far as the time frame is concerned, Nolan’s narrative is still linear, but the dream-within-a-dream-within-a-dream structure is far from a standard experience. You won’t know what I’m talking about until you see it, but when the van finally hits the water, the effect is orgasmic. (So be careful whom you sit by.) Alright, alright, so most of the characters in this film are about as flimsy as paper, but Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s coolness makes up for that shortcoming. Now, about the ending: it’s not complicated, and there’s no reason for Multiple Interpretations. Nolan is simply pointing out that reality and dreams have meaningful interplay, a theme explored previously by the late Satoshi Kon’s “Paprika.” In other words, it doesn’t matter whether the last scene is a dream or not. The conflict has been resolved in the protagonist’s mind.

Acknowledgements. Then I'll blather about 'Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker.'

Well, shit, it's been more than two months since my last entry that concluded Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List. I told several people--hopefully not more than several--that I would write a follow-up to the list. You know, mention some movies that didn't make the list (e.g., no Clint Eastwood films!) and thank people and so on. I'll just stick to the thanking.

I extend a hearty thank-you to everyone who read the list (including friends at Facebook, Comic Book Resources, and Anime Forums), to those who commented on the entries, and to those who encouraged me to continue writing (my girlfriend is certainly part of this long list). Special thanks go to Ray R. from CBR (I quoted him here) as well as other members of that forums site. Special thanks also go to IcareAlot from A4 (because I did steal a line from him for the "Save the Green Planet" review) as well as other members of that forums site. If I do another list, I hope it's as rewarding as this one.

Alright, I'm done being a nice guy. Now I am going to give a negative review to a direct-to-video film, "Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker." Why should anyone read or write this shit? We have to start somewhere.

But seriously, "Mask of the Phantasm" is a very good movie. Perhaps the best Batman film yet. It also didn't make back its small budget during its theatrical run. Ouch! That doesn't give me dollar signs to use as a fucking crutch while I pontificate about how "Mask of the Phantasm" is better than every comic book movie--and certainly most movies ever made.

I have determined that the preceding paragraph is the product of poor transitional thought and anger, but the point I wanted to make is that perhaps "Return of the Joker" could have been very good, just like "Mask of the Phantasm." Paul Dini is a solid writer, and "Batman Beyond" refers to a new Batman who uses futuristic technology and hangs out with an older, grumpy Bruce Wayne ... fair concept. Hell, it even sounds fun. Here's the problem: "Return of the Joker" should be fun, but it's not.

But could we call "Mask of the Phantasm" fun? It was serious most of the time, but Joker attacking someone with bologna? Yeah, that's worth a laugh.

"Return of the Joker" has nothing to laugh about. That's because--and yes, I'm about to spoil this no-theatrical-release mofo--the Joker in this film is actually Tim Drake. The guy who used to be Robin. The really young guy. In the film, we get a dark flashback involving Batman, Drake, Batgirl, the Joker, Harley Quinn, torture, death, and insanity ... maybe I could let you fill in the blanks. It shouldn't be too hard. Just think of an obvious way to make the young Robin fucked up. Like, Robin gets tortured by the Joker and Harley Quinn, but Batman and Batgirl come to the rescue, and Joker and Harley Quinn die, but Batman did not kill them, thus making their deaths Rightful Punishment, and Drake, though rescued, is insane.

So fuck it, that's all I have to say about the story. I can't enjoy this morbid nonsense. I'm just wondering why this movie contains the phrase "Batman Beyond." After all, Joker doing fucked up shit to people and Batman dealing with the consequences are not beyond my expectations.

And then a thought comes, and none of this matters! Ding, ding, ding! It's a nearly 10-year-old straight-to-video Batman film! Jeezus, what was I thinking?

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 5-1.

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.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 10-6.

No. 10 - “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” (2004)

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” works as romantic comedy and science fiction. I can’t say that about any other film I’ve seen. But such is the quality of Charlie Kaufman’s writing, which serves as a hole puncher to allow us to peek into the human soul …

Goddamn! I gotta quit that kind of talk. Let’s just say Kaufman knows the awkward conversations that precede and follow relationships. He also knows good science fiction is built around questions, not maxims and computer-generated spaceships that bore the shit out of me. Sure, maybe the answer to “Should we fuck with our memories to reduce heartbreak?” is simple, but it’s fascinating seeing how the idea plays out.

I have to admit, for a while I was sucking off Kaufman so much that I somewhat dismissed Michel Gondry’s role as director. I mean, is it a coincidence that the Kaufman-scripted “Adaptation,” “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” and “Synecdoche, New York” remind me of each other visually, despite having different directors? No. But I’ll put money down saying Gondry’s film has the best pacing out of the bunch.

(As a side note, what I like so much about the memory-tampering sequences is how they aren’t just visually engaging—when one watches the destruction of a life via memory swipe, it is irksome. Maybe James Cameron could learn something here.)

Finally, the cast is the main reason “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” is a pleasure to watch. Jim Carrey delivers his most restrained performance, with Kate Winslet playing the wild card. Regardless of how their characters are scripted, Carrey and Winslet make a strange pair, but their interplay is universal in how it speaks to our …

I’m moving to the next one.

No. 9 - “Caché” (2005)

Man, I would have been pissed off if I had paid to see this bugger in a theater. Director/writer Michael Haneke likes fucking with us and then, to slightly plagiarize a friend, laughing maniacally at the ruckus. Basically, think an evil, thinner Alfred Hitchcock with white hair and beard, glasses, and vicious teeth.

But I really like the bastard, what can I say. But yeah, I missed the ending to this film. Strange idea, isn’t it? Missed the fucking ending. Then you look at the title again, “Caché,” and curse yourself for letting Haneke win again.

You will get no definitive answers to the mystery, but this isn’t “The Birds.” Haneke simply dangles possibilities in front of you.

The crazy thing is I don’t think Haneke gives a shit about what actually happened in this story. He wants you to look at what caused the mystery. Truthfully, it’s a simple ploy, but we are so used to certain conventions that it is devastating. Thank Christ you’re not the protagonist.

Plus, any movie that puts all its opening credits on one screen is admirably cuckoo.

No. 8 - “The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001)

A few people may see this movie at No. 8 and go, “Sorry, I can’t get into Wes Anderson.” I can help with that. If Anderson’s intentions are that dubious, pretend this entry is about your favorite movie of all time.

Essentially, “The Royal Tenenbaums” is a storybook of a film, complete with obvious typography and a section for the cast of characters. The story is narrated by a calm Alec Baldwin, which is a testament to Anderson’s knack for self-referential contradictions. Clearly, the introduction of this film is an odd way to start a movie. But listen closely. A cover of “Hey Jude” by The Beatles is playing in the background, and the lyric “Take a sad song and make it better” perfectly describes what Anderson is doing with the dysfunctional Tenenbaum family.

For example, instead of presenting Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman in a superb role), the insensitive father, in a totally negative light, Anderson wants us to laugh at him when he lies about having cancer to win his family back. Rereading the previous sentence brings to mind a genuine sadness to this film that Anderson cloaks and reveals ever so well.

But fuck all that. Look at this cast: Hackman, Anjelica Houston, Ben Stiller, Gwyneth Paltrow, Luke Wilson, Owen Wilson, Danny Glover, Bill Murray, and Kumar Pallana.

I believe I have shown there is nothing that difficult to “get” here. If I haven’t, perhaps I should have included “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” in this list like my wacky side suggested.

No. 7 - “The Piano Teacher” (2001)

Close call. I almost listed two movies in a row by the same director twice. (Check out No. 16, “Audition,” and No. 15, “Ichi the Killer,” both by Takashi Miike.)

A question remains, however. Does Michael Haneke deserve to have two movies in a top 10? No, the scheming bastard certainly doesn’t. I am not a Haneke fan in the way one is a Nolan fan. Haneke is a self-important and deceptive person. Having said that, his films are unique, provocative, and unforgettable, and those three adjectives should describe all of the top 10. Otherwise, what the hell am I doing?

I want to switch gears a bit to write about Isabelle Huppert, who plays the titular protagonist. Huppert is a scary actress, much like Daniel Day-Lewis is a scary actor. The depths she is able to convey through both subtle and fierce performing may scar you. I could not remove her character from my mind. Her motivations and secrets are tormenting.

But see, that’s only the excellent actress at work. During the film, you might feel guilty, as Haneke’s camera angles seem more like hiding spots for the most depraved voyeur than visual framing for a story. Like Hitchcock, Haneke is very interested in letting you see nastiness, but the primary weapon in “The Piano Teacher” is sexuality, not violence. If you can handle the violence, Haneke thinks you should be able to handle the sexuality.

(By the way, “Audition” has lost its throne as the most disturbing movie on this list.)

No. 6 - “Oldboy” (2003)

This revenge film from director/writer Park Chan-wook is as visceral as it is intellectual. Don’t let those who praise the hallway fight as cool lead you astray. “Oldboy” is not about heroism or victory. Chan-wook takes the Sophocles approach to tragedy but mixes in enough dark humor and romance to make you think he was the kid burying bodies in the sandbox to make a larger point about—ah, just take my word for it.

This movie is fucked up. That is one claim no one will dispute. The challenge is to take “Oldboy” in a broader context rather than as a film for the sake of itself. If one misses the commentary on the dreary revenge film genre, the movie may resemble unjustified torture. I assure you it is not. Even the infamous squid scene ties into Chan-wook’s critique of revenge flicks. (I’ve read that more than one real octopus had to die for the scene.)

But it’s so addicting! “Oldboy” is immensely rewarding on repeated viewings. Choi Min-sik's lead performance is just as scorching every time (the same can be said for Yoo Ji-tae's antagonist), and his voice-over narration doesn't get tiresome, as it is needed and funny. The flip side is that one also realizes this is an incredibly contrived story, but for a contrived story, it knows how to punch you in the gut.

Damn, I wanted to put this at No. 1.