We're already two decades into the 21st Century and we've seen a lot of really stellar and incredible films. In fact, the new millennium has had quite a transition in the way we view movies. VHS tapes became obsolete as DVDs became standard issue, ditto Blu-ray discs. Nowadays, viewers and audiences have the option to stream films (and TV shows) on their phones, laptops or flat screens, which seem to have been contributing factors to the decline in ticket sales at movie theaters. Even so, the latter still are (and will arguably always be) the greatest place to see the latest (and occasionally classic) blockbusters or critical darlings.
That being said, here is a two-part look back at the last twenty years of cinema, beginning here with the 2000s and my picks for the films that remind us why we go to the movies.
The following criteria were used in determining said films:
--Is it thematically- and superbly-written?--Is it artistically-made?
--Has it achieved critically and/or commercially success? More than that, is it still discussed years after its initial release?
--Does it have universal appeal, one way or another? (i.e., is it poetic and/or timely?)
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Here are a few quick notable mentions that didn't make the final cut, but still worth mentioning.
Tom Hanks is a FedEx engineer who survives a plane crash and ends up on a desert island. That's the basic premise of this contemporary spin on Daniel Dafoe's Robinson Crusoe, as Hanks' Chuck Nolan makes due with the items he has (including a Wilson volleyball, an unexpected source of empathy) while trying to chart a way back to civilization. Hanks' engrossing and committed performance, along with William Broyles's brilliant screenplay and Robert Zemeckis's skillful direction, makes for a thoroughly gripping and stirring character-driven drama.
Technically the first film released in the decade and century, this update and continuation of the landmark synchronization of music, sound, and animated imagery from 1940 features guest host interludes that seem dated by today's standards. But the animated sequences showcased (including the iconic "Sorcerer's Apprentice," starring Mickey Mouse, from the original) are breathtaking, spectacular, and inspiring to watch. From "Pines of Rome"s flying whales to the lively, Hirshfeld-inspired "Rhapsody in Blue," and the beautifully poetic "Firebird Suite." This concept remains a bold, experimental, and collective celebration of what the mediums of animation and music are capable of.
Director Clint Eastwood made two films back-to-back, based on the battle of Iwo Jima (the first being Flags of Our Fathers, told from the American perspective). This companion piece, told from the perspective of the Japanese, is even more compelling and intriguing, showing a humane side of soldiers long stereotyped as enemies. Ken Watanabe is commanding and loyal as real-life General Tadamichi Kuribayashi. Like Terrence Malick's 1998 epic The Thin Red Line, Letters is an unconventional but engrossing war film.
In a decade where fantasy genre had a renaissance, Guillermo del Toro became one of the most visually-stunning artists and filmmakers of the era. This dark period fantasy (described as a fairy tale for grown-ups--and a violent one, at that) is arguably his magnum opus. A young girl named Ophelia moves with her pregnant mother to the estate of her stepfather (a sadistic fascist) in 1940s Spain, and stumbles across a mysterious labyrinth. There, she meets an age-old faun-man who believes she's the lost princess of a forgotten kingdom, and gives her three tasks to prove herself. Thoroughly amazing and grim.
A profound true story of three young aborigine girls who escape a training school to return home during a period of familial and racial removal in 1930s Western Australia. Director Phillip Noyce adapts Doris Pilkington's powerful book about the "Stolen Generations" (an era that lasted over sixty years) with both heartache and grace, aided by Peter Gabriel's reflective and bittersweet score. A heartbreaking but important film.
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Here are my picks for the ten standouts films of the 2000s.
Director Lee Daniels' adaptation of Sapphire's bruising novel, Push, follows a teenage girl as she seeks hope in an alternate school from a compassionate educator, and begins to see life anew, despite her harsh and abusive upbringing. With committed performances from Gabourey Sidibe (in a powerful debut role), Paula Patton (as her kind-hearted instructor), and especially Monique (who won an Oscar for her edgy turn as a monstrous mother), Precious avoids any genre cliches and goes for the heart. A very difficult, profane, but ultimately hopeful story.
At the time of its release, one of my college professors declared Slumdog Millionaire as a film that needed to be seen on the big screen. While I unfortunately missed that opportunity, I was nevertheless captivated by this remarkable movie. Director Danny Boyle and screenwriter Simon Beaufoy took what seemed like a cheap concept from Vikas Swarup's novel "Q & A" (a young man, who is a contestant on India's version of "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire," recounts his life with each question), and turned it into an amazing, modern-day Dickens tale. Dev Patel and Freida Pinto's breakout performances, and A.R. Rahman's engaging score, make this a compelling original film.
Comic book movies made such a splash in the decade. Most forget (I assume) that five years before Christopher Nolan redefined Batman and two years before Sam Raimi took Spider-Man to new heights, writer-director M. Night Shamayalan followed up his Oscar-nominated debut The Sixth Sense with what may be the most grounded film based on the concept of comic-book figures, if not specific figures themselves. Bruce Willis gives what may be his best screen performance (aside from John McClane) as a security guard who survives a train wreck unharmed, and Samuel L. Jackson is mesmerizing and complex as a mysterious art gallery owner who believes superheroes walk the earth. The way the story balances estranged relationships between fathers and sons, and husbands and wives, as well as long tracking shots and striking color palettes, is a testament to Shamayalan's creativity and understanding of the mediums of comic books and film.
The idea of indie filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson making a movie centered around funnyman Adam Sandler was initially laughable, to say the least. When Punch-Drunk Love premiered at Cannes in 2002 (where it won Anderson the Best Director award), the naysayers were quite surprised. Anderson had become the first auteur director to bring out a radical side of the beloved goofball, while also tailoring to the actor's strengths and quirks. The film follows a small novelty business owner, Barry Egan, who suffers from compulsive anger tendencies, wrestles with concepts of loneliness and love, and stumbles on a promotional loophole involving packages of pudding and frequent flyer miles. The combination of Anderson's direction and writing, Sandler's committed performance, Gary Rystrom's bizarre sound design, and Jon Brion's odd-but-affecting music, make for an idiosyncratic, strange, and incredibly daring film.
Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments. William Wyler's Ben-Hur. Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew. These films have been regarded as some of the most faithful screen adaptations of Bible (or Bible-related) stories ever made. Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ chronicles the final twelve hours of the life of Jesus Christ, including his torture and crucifixion. Like Carl Theodor Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc, Gibson's film (which he reportedly self-financed at $20 million) may be the most intimate account of faith and religion for a mainstream audience, and certainly the most graphic and divisive.
Probably the first time I remember feeling a different kind of emotion in the movie theater, particularly from Pixar. The famed studio's breathtaking animation, ethereal and emotional center (partly thanks to Thomas Newman's amazing score), and genuine hysterical comedy from its instantly unforgettable characters (Albert Brooks fits clownfish Marlin like a fin, while Ellen DeGeneres's endearing and forgetful Dory steals every scene she's in) strengthen a simple story of a father's journey across the sea to find his son. With distant echoes of Homer's The Odyssey and Collodi's Pinocchio, Finding Nemo has endured the test of time for all ages.
Many found this PG-rated adaptation of Maurice Sendack's beloved children's book polarizing, considering its edgy tone. I, on the other hand, am one of the few who was instantly impressed with director Spike Jonze and screenwriter Dave Eggers' vision. Wild Things is, at its heart, a very artful and poetic view of childhood angst and growing up. The animatronic puppets for the "wild things" (courtesy the Jim Henson Creature Shop, and recalling The NeverEnding Story) are impeccable and fantastic, while singer Karen O and composer Carter Burwell's music bridges the gap between young and old (despite being more of a film about childhood for the latter).
An elderly man ties thousands of balloons to his house and flies to South America to the place he and his late wife always wanted to go to, only to be distracted by a determined boy scout, a dog with a talking collar, and a colorful bird. Sounds like the most ridiculous scenario and cast of characters, at least on paper. But this being a Pixar film, the studio has shown in the latter half of the decade how to best take the most unlikely concepts (from a rat who dreams of being a world class chef, to the last robot on earth) and transform them into meaningful works of art. Up may be the oddest of their most original stories to date, and yet it works. Its emotional journey packs a punch (that four-minute opening montage still tugs at our heartstrings), along with lots of laughs, adventures, and surprises, with Michael Giacchino's score hitting all the right notes. In the words of canine Dug, we love it.
If M. Night Shamayalan's Unbreakable was based on the concept of comic books, then Christopher Nolan's groundbreaking take on DC Comic's most enduring superhero stood in a category of its own. Nolan's 2005 feature Batman Begins brought new life to the backstory of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne (an excellent Christian Bale) and his journey to bringing order and restoration to a bleak and despairing Gotham City. This 2008 follow-up improves on those themes (with the addition of mind-blowing IMAX footage and gripping action), while emphasizing motifs of escalation, chaos, and choices. Although the late Heath Ledger's phenomenal and chilling performance as the Joker is the film's centerpiece, The Dark Knight is so much more than that. This may be the deepest, most layered, compelling, and certainly most haunting, take on the Caped Crusader ever put to celluloid.
This one's a bit of a cheat, but bare with me. When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote his fantastical stories about a place called "Middle-earth" (which he began with The Hobbit) in the early 20th Century, he intended it as one immense adventure of a band of diverse characters journeying to destroy an all-powerful ring. Unlike George Lucas's Star Wars saga (which began in the public's eye as a standalone 1977 feature), Peter Jackson's adaptation of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed back-to-back. Fans and critics have their picks for which of the three films stands out the most. In all fairness, the three films (2001's The Fellowship of the Ring, 2002's The Two Towers, and 2003's The Return of the King) work best collectively. Featuring an impeccable roster of celebrated actors, groundbreaking visual effects (including Andy Serkis' definitive motion-capture work as Gollum), and astounding set pieces (including some filmed on location in Jackson's native New Zealand), Jackson and company have created a staggering, thrilling, emotional, and universal adventure, appealing and applicable to all walks of life. An unprecedented achievement in the history of cinema.
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