Ten to See

I have been drowning in good movies lately, which is a great problem to have.  My recent forays to the theater have proven engaging, challenging, uplifting, and inspiring.  There's a plethora of fantastic options right now, including offerings for movie-goers of all sorts, from sugar-rushed kids to more sophisticated film aficionados.

The impossibility of keeping up with all the great stuff I've been seeing, review-wise, and with AFI Fest looming in a couple weeks (with screenings already having started), I decided to revive the long dormant Ten to See feature, so I can at least touch on all the wonderful movies you ought to check out.

One of the buzziest movies of this Oscar season (yes, it's that time of year) is Alejeandro Gonzalez Inarritu's Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), a searing technical stunner about the nature of celebrity, the pursuit of relevance, and the burden of fame.  Michael Keaton plays an actor once famous for playing a latex-sporting superhero (sound familiar?) who decides to become a "serious actor" by staging a theatrical adaptation of a Raymond Carver story.  While most actors aspire to be involved with mega-blockbusters that will make them household names, Riggan Thompson seeks the validation of the elite, shunning his lucrative past even as it haunts him: throughout the film, Birdman's gravelly voice intones colorful wisdom, haunting Riggan every step of the way.

The brilliant casting doesn't end at Keaton.  Edward Norton is just as carefully chosen as a wildcard actor brought in because all of Riggan's top choices are booked on massive film franchises, including Jeremy Renner, an Avenger (Norton famously got the axe after one outing as the Hulk, to be replaced by the affable Mark Ruffalo for the eventual super team-up).  Even Emma Stone as Riggan's waifish, addict daughter is inspired, as she, too, is attached to a super-franchise, and she, too, is about to make her Broadway debut in Cabaret.

The film is a great showcase for its cast (Norton especially), but it's even more impressive for its technical prowess.  Cinematographic maestro Emmanuel Lubezki and Inarritu construct the film to appear as if the bulk of it is a single take, with hidden cuts serving the magic.  Thus, the film reflects its theatrical subject matter, with characters entering and exiting the "stage" as the camera gets caught up in the various characters' gravitational pulls, each one the star of his or her own world, each one an interesting footnote in Riggan's impressive ego.

Birdman is rightfully cold, almost dead inside as it casts its piercing glare on the emptiness of celebrity culture, on the dishonest idiocy of the riotous clamber for a few seconds' notoriety on YouTube.  It's a film for the mind rather than the heart, carefully calculated and full of righteous bile.  And it's one for the ages.

Another tale of artistic torture - and one of the most crowd-pleasing movies this season - is Damien Chazelle's Whiplash, about a music student (Miles Teller) who finds himself under the rule of a militaristic instructor, played with ruthless charm by J.K. Simmons, who finally gets a role worthy of his immense talent, and knocks it out of the park with one of the year's best performances.

Whiplash echoes Black Swan in some ways, as Teller's Andrew is completely obsessed with his pursuit of perfection.  He won't be satisfied with greatness; he wants to be one of the all-time greats, never forgotten, forever celebrated.  Teller has, for years, been on the brink of superstardom, and Whiplash demonstrates why.  He's a monumental actor, but his work is never needlessly showy.  He brings such art to every part he tackles, even in more mainstream fare like Footloose and Project X, that he never indulges in the easy showboating that makes stars of lesser performers.

And Simmons's performance is beyond praise.  He is ruthless, cold, driven, and dynamic.  He imbues his scholastic fury with nonchalance, occasionally donning a loose kitten's mask that does little to hide the lion within.  He makes the words "Not my tempo" a venomous phrase, enough to crush the spirit of the most passionate percussionist.

Though the performances dominate, the rest of the film keeps pace.  It's a master class in direction and editing, the film cutting in perfect time with the explosive action, including a truly unforgettable final scene.  Even when you think you know where Whiplash is going, it surprises you, and ever note is perfectly tuned.  It's one of those movies everyone will love.

For families heading to the theater, there are a few strong animated options to choose from.  The Book of Life is perfect viewing for this time of year, with Halloween and Dia de los Muertos just around the corner.  It's an impossibly energetic movie, full of color, humor, and culture.  The art direction is superb, with the characters' skin and joins giving them the appearance of wooden puppets, which beccome even more festive when they head to the underworld and take on flashier skeletal forms.  The story is a simple love triangle, but full of fun action scenes, a cute sense of humor, and truly bizarre musical numbers - including mariachi covers of songs by Mumford and Sons and Radiohead - that somehow work.  It's a bit exhausting at times, but its got a huge heart, and style to burn.

Even better is the latest from Laika, The Boxtrolls, which is about as adorable and beautiful as movies get.  The animation is stunning, and I love that the first trailer for the film highlighted all the work that the studio's artists put into bringing their detailed worlds to life.  The story of a boy raised by underground creatures is much more than a Jungle Book-style story of worlds colliding.  The Boxtrolls takes on class disparity and the monstrosity of humanity, too, all with a fantastical flair and a childlike sense of wonder.  Ugly has never looked so good, or been so enjoyable.

Though I hate to use one of my slots for a movie I've already reviewed, I can't help but mention once again how amazing The Tale of Princess Kaguya is.  It's the best animated movie of the year so far, jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and has a beauttiful soul.  Seek it out, however far you may have to drive.

Speaking of movies that may be hard to find, Jake Paltrow's Young Ones is currently playing in limited release, and it is something to behold.  A fusion of sci-fi and Western, Young Ones centers on a future where water is scarce, and thus a source of power.  "Pray for rain," the characters repeatedly say, while others engage in illicit activity for the chance of an upper hand.  Paltrow draws from a slew of influences, with a clear love for classic filmmaking (the fade is very in vogue here, and I love it), as well as nods to Tarantino and Chinatown.

Paltrow has assembled a strong cast, including gawky Kodi Smit-McPhee at his best, and Nicholas Hoult channeling James Dean as the bad boy who stirs up trouble but gets the girl (Elle Fanning) nonetheless.  Michael Shannon rounds out the main ensemble, and is typically good, if less unhinged than normal.

Young Ones concerns itself with the nature of memory, and the danger of forgetting while determining the course of history.  The young will inherit the Earth, but what if the Earth isn't worth inheriting, and what if the young aren't worthy of it regardless?  It's a strange, and strangely touching movie, and one of the year's most unique visions (joining the ranks of Snowpiercer in that regard).

Just as Gone Girl served up a scathing look at marriage, so Force Majeure turns a critical lens on the nuances of matrimony.  The film is uncomfortable in the best ways, as a couple on holiday face tension after the husband flees, leaving his family behind, when an avalanche appears to be on the verge of destroying the restaurant where they are dining.  The result is a funny, subtle battle of the sexes as the family attempts to enjoy the rest of their trip in the face of misunderstanding, misperception, and outright dishonesty.  Marital toxicity spreads and infects, revealing that unhappiness is contagious; misery truly loves company.  The far-off, controlled explosions that trigger planned avalanches have a ripple effect, disturbing the carefully groomed appearance of familial bliss.

Force Majeure skewers ideas of gender essenstialism, especially the roles parents usually take within the family unit.  We become voyeurs of intimate ugliness, seeing the faces that people only show in the company of those they know and trust.  The machinery of the ski resort - the symphony of preparation - is echoed in the family's activities, but things can't, and shouldn't, always go as planned.  With beautiful long takes that find stillness in perpetual motion, and one of the year's best performances from the fierce, even terrifying Lisa Loven Kongsli, Force Majeure is an unexpected delight.

Continuing our world tour, we turn our attention to blind chess-playing youths in India, in the documentary Algorithms.  That such a subject even exists is surprising, and watching these masterful kids play such a complex game without the chief sense involved is incredible; I couldn't last five minutes in a game with any of them.  The film is shot in gorgeous black and white, reflective of the game and symbolically representing the gray areas of tournament rules and play.  Some of the players are completely blind while others are visually impaired to a point.  The dream for many of these kids is to one day compete with sighted players, an imposing possibility that leads to intensive training, and immense pressure.  Impoverished communities and families rally around their champions, hoping that they can find success despite coming from a place that doesn't necessarily afford them many opportunities.  This is amazing stuff.

Another great documentary is Advanced Style, about women over sixty who have captured the world's attention with their wonderful fashion sense, as documented on the blog (and in the book) that shares the film's name.  What begins as a parade of introductions, with big personalities and lots of inventive ensembles, gradually becomes a celebration of being old.  These women are still vivacious, active, and full of joy.  The film is sweet and adoring, as it should be, as it looks at the realities of love, life, health, and work at an advanced age.  These women don't recede from society as their bodies start to fail and their minds slow down' instead, they dominate life, inspire others, and savor every moment.  And they are rightfully celebrated in this brisk, delightful documentary.

Finally, as Halloween is just around the corner, a horror film deserves a spot on this list.  Annabelle doesn't scratch that particular itch, but The Canal does the trick nicely.  Part haunted house story, part psychological murder mystery, The Canal plays something like an Irish Sinister.  Like that film, this one recognizes the haunting power of filmed images; archivist David (Rupert Evans) tells visiting students that old films contain ghosts, as those appearing on screen are long dead and gone.  When old police footage reveals grisly murders that happened more than a hundred years earlier in David's home, he must face the possibility that there's an evil contained within the walls trying to repeat those bloody crimes.

While it isn't packed with scares, and some of the material feels familiar, The Canal does a nice job of carving its own niche in the genre.  The oppressive sound causes unease, especially the aggressive clacks of a film projector showing a silent film.  And some of the creepiest scenes take place in daylight, in open spaces, which is a nice change of pace from the usual dark corners and cobwebbed hallways one expects to find in the genre.  The squeamish should be warned that The Canal gets extremely disgusting toward the end, with some imagery that will forever be burned on viewers' retinas.

Hopefully one of these titles catches your fancy, and if not, there are plenty more good movies still coming this year.  Soon, my coverage of AFI Fest will begin, with reviews of all sorts of exciting movies and a personal diary about my first film festival-going experience.