Stalag 17 
1953 / Billy Wilder > Though he's not particularly known for layered works, Wilder definitely swings the bat hard when it comes to making the audience enjoy a movie. Together with William Holden in his Oscar-winning performance, he cooks up a rip-roaring adventure in what could be called the bachelor's version of The Great Escape. The comedy easily surpasses the drama in Stalag 17, as the latter is often predictable if simple and honest. A German POW camp during World War II shouldn't be something you laugh about, but give the writers of the original play some credit for giving us a reminder that laughter remains an alternative tool for vengeance.
Life of Brian 
1979 / Terry Jones > There are a lot of renowned comic troupes in the world, and often they exist in variety because different audiences clamor for different styles of humor. Well, count me out of the Monty Python crowd. This isn't my cup of tea. Life of Brian definitely had moments of ingenuity, but far too often it missed and felt repetitious. Moreover, when the joke's on someone who's made into a punching bag (as these characters are), the intended satire can lose a lot of its charm.
Jaws 
1975 / Steven Spielberg > There are a lot of stories behind production mishaps in Jaws, most of them dealing with issues with faulty animatronics of the shark. How right they were, and how sad. For 70% of the film, it's really something swell, atmospheric even when bordering on the expected cliché. More often than not, Spielberg just couldn't get the villain to look real, so he used clever methods of making sure the audience would feel its presence other ways (like filming from its point of view, below the water, with the menacing theme music signaling impending doom). But then you see it, and it's over. Unlike The Thing, where the literal creativeness of the special effects made up for its outdated looks, here I had trouble digesting the climactic battle because it looked just downright silly. It's really sad when special effects ruin the potential for a great film to age well, and this is no exception.
The Thing
1982 / John Carpenter > It doesn't matter how much the special effects in The Thing have aged, what stood out for me is the sheer ingenuity of its intentions. The creature from outer space is keenly unique, grotesque and memorable, but more importantly, the writing is taut, imaginative and the pacing fills every scene with tension. Color me absolutely surprised that I enjoyed this that much, as I was pretty much expecting some sort of kitsch fare that was good for a laugh more than a scare.
Synecdoche, New York 
2008 / Charlie Kaufman > Here's a thought: Twenty years from now when we look at the 2008's global filmography, Synecdoche, New York will be the year's towering achievement. Kaufman's directorial debut is an injection of a life into the bloodstream, and the way it shakes down our internal struggles and chaotic delusions is truly magnificent. It's imperfect in the way it should be, in that pseudo-bullshit philosophical manner that nobody can really explain. And because it tries to explain things so minimally, it becomes the viewer's movie. Everyone can live this, everyone is this, and as crazy as it sounds, sometimes I find myself thinking that it's about me. The aging of man is a topic that has been touched upon with much success in the past (Ikiru, Wild Strawberries) but never like this. It's something only Kaufman can do, and it will undoubtedly polarize, fascinate and confuse for years to come.
Horsemen 
2009 / Jonas Åkerlund > You know how a well-written thriller is supposed to be one step ahead of the viewer, making sure that the tense atmosphere continues until the very end? This isn't one of those. Too often, the genre conventions fell into place and I found myself one step ahead of Dennis Quaid's detective in charge of discovering the Horsemen behind some grizzly murders. In and of itself, this could survive if the story is good, but even that fails because of lack of scope. It's as if someone promised me a trip to Paris and then took me to Philadelphia—it simply doesn't work. No matter how well intentioned the ending may be, disappointment remains. All this is quite sad in two respects: Akerlund was on my list of directors to watch after a risky yet satisfying effort in Spun. Also, it was nice to see Zhang Ziyi play something different (in this case, a creepy, slithering snake of a woman with devious intentions).
The Ox-Bow Incident
1943 / William A. Wellman > The Ox-Bow Incident is a simple story of conscience done very, very well. Often reminding me of Henrik Ibsen's An Enemy of the People, the film's crux is a lynch mob hellbent on punishing some rogue cattle rustlers for the crime of murder. How this unfolds isn't particularly novel, but is undoubtedly daring for a film made in 1943. Henry Fonda is instantly watchable, as is Dana Andrews and Anthony Quinn as a couple of men that get held up at the stake. If only the resolution didn't delve into a sort of preaching mode, this would have stood out as a better testament of mob mentality.
Gomorra
2008 / Matteo Garrone > Gomorra is a deeply rich film that lacks the sensationalist touches we often see in mafia dramas. Remember how Heat was a poetic version of cops & robbers? Well, this is what you get when you strip out the loud violence and criminal glamour. The multiple storylines seem a bit daunting initially, but they end up really impressing on the basis of their meticulousness. Based on the book by Roberto Saviano, Garrone's adaptation really works to stress the capitalist reaches of the modern Camorra, the Naples-based organization on which the works are founded upon. From the typical youngster wannabes to the world of waste disposal, the film is a nuanced treat into the daily ongoings. It's so real that Saviano himself has been forced into exile due to fear of death. This is impressive stuff for the patient viewer, and almost honorable because it doesn't build up the lifestyle, but rather puts it in perspective from both local and global viewpoints.
The Night of the Hunter 
1955 / Charles Laughton > After Robert Mitchum's turn as the dashing anti-hero in Out of the Past, I found it refreshing to see his portrayal of a so-called holy man with a batshit crazy mind. The man gives you the creeps in The Night of the Hunter, with his wild religious rhetoric and instantly suspicious demeanor. What tricks me is that I can't figure out what Laughton was up to. The film's hard to figure out because it's not simply a good vs. bad story, as it has shades of a fable and a darkly Biblical undertone. But all that withstanding, everything simply falls apart at the end. Symbolically and fundamentally, it becomes a jumbled mess. Sure, it's possible to justify everything that happens, but it just doesn't feel acceptable to a rational mind. Either way, one thing is for sure: This has some of the finest cinematography I've ever seen in a black & white film. Stanley Cortez uses beautiful, stark angles and really captures the depth of what one can do without color.
Frankenstein
1931 / James Whale > Regardless of what kind of classic status Whale's Frankenstein may hold in the annals of cinema, the fact that it mostly circumvents the humanist touches of Mary Shelley's original work keeps it from actually being a great film. So much of this hinges on the simple fact that the creature is never given a chance to grow and mature. In the novel, it's Frankenstein's fear that drives the creature into madness, but here it's the doctor's assistant making a mistake by providing an "abnormal brain" for the experiment. Therefore any sort of commentary the film tries to make becomes null. Criminal brains do criminal things, so where's the lesson of morality and the God factor? Shelley tried to warn of taking life and death into the scientific framework whereas Whale gives us no particular basis to believe that it's good or bad, simply that you have to make sure to pick the brain of a gentle, loving person in order to create a creature that may also be gentle and loving. When the viewer already expects the worst, then the compassion for the creature is lost, and in the process, so is the wonder and warning within the story.
Chaplin
1992 / Richard Attenborough > Considering the spotlight on Robert Downey, Jr. post-Iron Man, it's shocking that more people haven't brought up his magnificent performance in Chaplin. Even now, watching Charlie's flicks, I can't help but substitute in Downey's face without a worry. At age 27, he mimicked the lives of one of the most magnetic performers in cinematic history yet it feels as if no one remembers. Some of this blame arguably goes to Attenborough for taking an unorthodox approach to a biopic by focusing on Chaplin's love affairs to progress the storyline, which led to slightly uneven pacing and treatment of his work as almost secondary. While this may have resulted in mixed critical response, there's no denying that his life did indeed revolve around women, and that the longing for his first love led to multiple marriages to younger and younger women. Furthermore, there was at least 12 minutes cut from the director's version and almost two hours left on the cutting floor altogether. Who knows how much better this would have made it, but even as it stands, it's an incredibly enjoyable piece about a fascinating icon of culture and is worth viewing to get a glimpse into him and his works as well as the ridiculousness of the McCarthy era.
The Girlfriend Experience
2009 / Steven Soderbergh > The big question everyone will be asking is, "Can Sasha Grey act?" Sad to say, the pornographic star's crossover role has such a limited emotional palette that it's hard to tell. Her character is the subdued type, quiet and reserved except for bursts of emotion inflicted at a loved one. And the story itself is Pretty Woman with a tinge of cynicism. Credit to Soderbergh for giving the girl a chance (as I'd love to see her do more work outside of the realm of the skin and saliva), and for fleshing up the sights of Lower Manhattan true to life. But from those basics, the film is a study of the world's oldest profession in its modern setting without really bringing anything we didn't already know. Were it a character piece, I could understand, but even that doesn't seem to really fit into the details of the script. Even the stints at social commentary via the clientele's morning shoptalk is too lackadaisical to derive some level of interest.
State of Play
2009 / Kevin Macdonald > Frankly, there was no way this film could make me happy. The original 2003 BBC miniseries on which this is based is one of my single favorite pieces of television ever. It's clever, thrilling and intelligent. John Simm in the lead is downright brilliant and the rest of the cast is near perfect. But in the process of cramming six fantastic hours into two for the global mainstream audience, quite a bit of detail and charm has been lost. While it remains a rather well-made film, the last third seems rushed and increasingly trite. The pacing of the movie kills the appreciation of the character motivations and starts insulting the viewer's intelligence. Incidentally, the same storyline in the miniseries successfully orchestrates these emotions. Thus, I can't stress enough that everyone should give the original a chance. Avoid a couple of clunkers this summer and spent those extra four hours diving into this riveting Brit drama and come out much more satisfied.
The Elephant Man
1980 / David Lynch > When dealing with subject of such social sensitivity as Joseph Merrick, the so-called "Elephant Man," directors are put in a very tight spot: They can either go balls-out with sympathetic adoration, or stay back and reduce the emotions in order to portray the objective viewpoint. Lynch, as confident and masterful has he thinks he is, tries to combine the two into proving a fuller experience. It's unfortunate, then, that I personally just didn't find much satisfaction in his overall presentation. Save for the famous "I am not an animal!" cry, I found The Elephant Man mostly uninteresting, if well-made. The question we have to ask as viewers is fairly simple: Was Merrick actually an interesting person? Is he worthy of being made a film about? Or are we falling into the same trap as circus goers and simply praising a film because it involves a deformed man of possible intelligence, and we simply cannot be caught failing to extend our hearts to him?
Grave of the Fireflies
1988 / Isao Takahata > War's tough business, and fallout from the bloodshed affects everyone involved. Bravely and tastefully, cinema has over time tried to convey such moral dilemmas and barbaric vengeance, but once in a while, a movie comes along that makes the viewer feel dirty for the wrong reasons. Widely acclaimed for its animated portrayal of two young, Japanese orphans in World War II, Grave of the Fireflies has made me feel that way. It's easy to justify the film's bleak, helpless nature as a dose of realism, but I'd go as far as to say that it plays on the sensitivities of those who have dealt with wartime struggles. It manipulates the viewer without substantiating the emotions. Akiyuki Nosaka, on whose novel the film is based, was himself inspired out of sheer guilt for failing to support a family member. This guilt is what's now being projected on the hapless viewer? That's unfair, and the director should actually be the one to feel dirty. Our sympathy should be earned, not exploited with the tears of young children.
Ace in the Hole
1951 / Billy Wilder > Now, Billy, you've failed me here. This story of exploitation may have gotten a rise out of people back in the day, but it's aged faster than anything else I've ever seen by you. Even Kirk Douglas seems like he's too busy acting to actually play his part. Something about how simple you make everything seem in Ace in the Hole just doesn't feel right. The morality is too clear cut, and if I really wanted to doubt my conscience, maybe I'd go back to watch the layered Sweet Smell of Success instead! Or am I just feeling backlash to the sudden sprouting of liberal guilt in our current media environment?
Departures
2008 / Yojiro Takita > It's so fitting that when the Academy finally honors an Asian work with the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, the crown is worn by a bastion of studio-laced mediocrity. Departures reminds you over and over that you're watching a carefully directed art film that has symbolism and emotions and all that other good stuff that separates it from the barrage of mainstream dramas. But as successful as it is in conveying the little artifacts of daily life, it's equally as frustrating in forgetting to treat the viewer with the kind of respect necessary for this to be a mutually enjoyable experience. There's an elegant humanist setup to the whole show that gets sideswiped in the second half by an overarching approach of connect-the-dots that has just enough edginess to garner an awards shower that'd even make the Weinsteins proud. In a year where Japan had a couple of far better films (All Around Us, Tokyo Sonata), it's sad that the global audience will judge the market with this caricature of human development.
Singin' in the Rain
1952 / Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly > With the possible exception of Cary Grant, I can't imagine anyone more suave than Gene Kelly in classic cinema. He's got the type of charisma that makes movies, careers and eventually legends, and he puts it all on display in Singin' in the Rain. The fact that the famous title sequence was actually performed when the actor had a 103° fever just makes it that much more extraordinary. But as a film, you can often tell that the story itself was written to match the musical numbers. But let's face it: You don't watch this for plot, you watch it to see Kelly and Debbie Reynolds and Cyd Charisse dance and sing and dance again. For that, it's absolutely dandy. In fact, the wondrous Broadway sequence, with its innovative set designs and dazzling colors, is alone the worth the price of admission.
Casino
1995 / Martin Scorsese > There is no Henry Hill in Casino, and that kills it. Scorsese had a hook in Goodfellas with Ray Liotta's Hill as a guy you could cheer for. Someone caught up in the shebang and rightfully taking advantage of it. Someone you could like. But this three hour long venture finds Joe Pesci another despicable gangster to play, but one that isn't counter-balanced. Throw in the working girl-cum-druggie, deceitful wife in Sharon Stone's Ginger and the scales just tip in ways from where there is no retribution. Why is that so troubling? Because this is, technically, a fantastic piece of work. The production may be one of the finest the director's ever put on, and that's why its mediocrity is so tragic. I just didn't care about anyone. I needed my Henry Hill.
It's a Wonderful Life
1946 / Frank Capra > The television stations loved playing this every Christmas when I was growing up, but I never actually saw the whole thing. The moments I caught here and there over the years, I somewhat fused together, but until now, I never really understood the mythology of George Bailey. Consider this a spiritual companion piece to Memories of Matsuko: Sometimes the things that we want to do weren't meant for us to begin with. Luck and circumstance are part of the game, and It's a Wonderful Life shows us the grass doesn't always have to be greener in order for a happier day. It's highly manipulative, but ironically not nearly as sentimental as one would expect. By the end, we don't really care because the manipulation was for a positive cause, because without it the modern moviegoer may be too cynical to enjoy a scene of sincere, unexpected happiness and joy. Could they make this now? I doubt it, but I'm happy that its spirit has barely aged in over half a century.
Taken
2008 / Pierre Morel > The story of a retired Jason Bourne-type going after sex traffickers who've kidnapped his daughter. How could I resist? Liam Neeson is nothing short of a bad ass in the follow-up to Morel's parkour-actioner District B13. No punches are pulled, and lots of disbelief are suspended. The man's on a mission, okay? It doesn't matter that he's taking out 13,216 baddies in a foreign country. He can do it, and you can't stop him. It's his daughter! In a sex slave trade! It's just not right! But seriously, it's a fantastic adrenaline ride that gets the benefit of the doubt when it comes to plausibility. Jason Bourne would be proud.
Kind Hearts and Coronets
1949 / Robert Hamer > As a pleasantly told story of lineage-based revenge, Kind Hearts and Coronets is chockful of smile-enducing comedic moments that point towards the brilliant, charismatic performance of star Dennis Price and the multiple personas of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Wait, what? To be specific, Alec Guinness plays eight different roles in the Ascoyne family tree that's the target of Price's ascension to dukeship, and each is played with hilarious aplomb. It's a well-made dark comedy, though I can't help but think that the straightforward manner of its storytelling holds it back from being a far better film. The story is purposefully predictable (as the many hints would indicate), but I find that a bit of a cop-out. Had Hamer insisted on a more novel approach to the film's progression, it wouldn't simply be an issue of "Who's next?"
Dog Day Afternoon
1975 / Sidney Lumet > Bleaker than it initially comes off, Dog Day Afternoon is a scriptwriting achievement by Frank Pierson (who was rightfully awarded an Oscar for it). It head-on attacks society and the system in cleverly underhanded ways (i.e., who could have imagined a gay rally challenging the likes of Harvey Milk?) without being whimsical or, more importantly, impractical. It's harsh but loving, and Lumet's direction is nothing short of just right. Nothing really feels forced, and the phone call between Chris Sarandon and Al Pacino (fully improvised, amazingly) is a testament to the heart of the film.
Fanboys
2009 / Kyle Newman > Sadly, the funniest parts of this Star Wars geek-a-thon are all in the trailer. Probably a must-see for those who can recite the Boba Fett entry in Wikipedia from memory, the movie does nothing else to field itself away from a typical teenage comedy. It also comes off as a half-assed, stereotypical attempt at rationalizing the world of fanboys. Then again, we all know this bit to be true: Dan Fogler has made out with Maggie Q, and most of us haven't.
He's Just Not That Into You
2009 / Ken Kwapis > He's Just Not That Into You is one of the most mediocre attempts at legitimizing the tough-love, romantic dramedy genre in Hollywood. It fails primarily because it tries to be street smart only to then fall into trite turns and twists seen a mile away. The lack of focus also doesn't help: Proper storytelling needs to address the little nuances that tilt emotions, but here we're dilly-dallying left and right, making sure the dots connect, and all the while, are being given advice and then being told it's wrong. This again reminds me of Ben Younger's much unheralded sophomore effort, Prime, which I recall as one of the last movies with similar themes and big stars that worked successfully on multiple levels. Plus, let's be honest at this point: Scarlett Johansson's sheer presence on a screen is enough to ruin any movie.
