To date, I've viewed and considered 136 releases from 2012. Not all are anxiety-driven incidental commentaries on the precarious states of either the world, film culture, or both, but in keeping with last years crop of Movies That Mattered, those considerations are still certainly in play.
For the first time, I've pretty much managed to see all the end of year prestige films and major releases. As a voting member of the St. Louis Film Critics Association, this is particularly important. I see the films, I review them if possible, and then, at the end of the year, as the dust is finally settling, I step back and try to evaluate just what I'm seeing in the crème de la crème, and others that moved me one way or another.
Good old fashioned escapism is still alive and well and valid, and in 2012, there ended up being a lot of worthwhile movies. Glancing at my own ranked list, I find that the top sixty are all films that I wouldn't want to do without. This was not the case in 2011, a year that yielded more long-term powerhouses, but lesser - and certainly scattered - in overall quality. In order to make my 2012 top ten, the entries couldn't just be great, they had to transcend.
Looking at my picks for the Best Films of 2012, one could speculate that filmmakers seem to feel, on varying levels, that perhaps if we have faith and pull together, we can better navigate these uncertain waters.
Wherever possible, I link to my ScreenAnarchy review or article dealing with the film in question. Many of the descriptions below are cherry picked from my previous writings posted either here or at my own site, ZekeFilm.org.
Movies I've yet to see: End of Watch, Rampart, The Turin Horse, Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, Ted, Coriolanus, The Well-Diggers Daughter, This Must be the Place, My Sister's Sister.
Life of Pi is the story of a young man whose family opts to move their family zoo, stocked with all manner of exotic animals, from India to the U.S. But when their ship sinks, the young man is the only survivor. Make that, the only human survivor.
He's forced to share his lifeboat with a ferocious Bengal tiger. The heart of the film is these two and their precarious dance of life and death. That alone is enough raw fuel for a nail-biting story, but Life of Pi, even with its fair share of overwroughtness, offers so much more.
What, in the wrong hands, would've easily become a ham-fisted, water-logged yarn about the value of terminally generalized "faith" in the face of desperate survival is, in instead a meticulously constructed wonder of a film that challenges and fulfills on nearly every level a motion picture can operate on. The 3D technology is put to its most artistically flamboyant use to date, trading in hypnotically beautiful images that go beyond both photographed reality and computer generated expectations.
There is no false hope, no shoehorned optimism for the sake of hollow "inspirational" storytelling. Some cry foul at the film's last act, but I savor it as a gateway for further consideration of the major topics Life of Pi offers about humanity, nature, and God. Life of Pi puts all of this out there. It in fact is what it's all about.
Moonrise Kingdom is, on the surface, a fully functional story of pure love trying to make a go of it in a world that wants to keep a lid on it. Two tween lovebirds, a renegade Khaki scout and a disaffected privileged girl, run away together, and everyone spends the rest of the movie trying to find them. It is a lighter film than Anderson's immediate live action predecessors, but all the more poignant for it, with unexpected moments of exhilarating comedy fused with coming-of-age-too-soon melancholy. Anderson is clearly intoxicated by his love of cinema here, paying small tributes to everything from Sergio Leone to Peckinpah to German Expressionism. But it's still trademark Wes Anderson, and better than ever.
The sci-fi chase that ensues offers not just the requisite thrilling action and brain-bending time travel mumbo jumbo, but deeply layered characters that make sense, even amid their life of punishable wrongdoings. Looper is a keeper - a rare writer/director (Brick's Rian Johnson) driven film of scope and ideas that is satisfying in its uneasiness.
Cyril is the titular kid, who has a bike but not a dad. When he finally connects with the man he so desperately longs for, only to be shut out, it may be the single most heart-wrenching moment in recent cinema.
The town hairdresser's selfless decision to care for Cyril proves to be no tossed off commitment, however, as the kid wanders deeper and deeper down the pathways of troubled youth. The Kid with a Bike is searingly sparse in both its aesthetic and its honesty. It mourns for what can't be had even as it guides us to savoring the blessings we've been given.
But more astonishing is how the film washes away famous movie stars and young child actors in a miles-long blast of mud water and debris. Of course what's seen isn't real, but it certainly feels that way, which is of course the point. Everything that follows is emotionally and physically informed by this unforgettable sequence.
Ewan McGregor and Naomi Watts brave conditions and physicality that few actors of their caliber would consider. But the bigger story is young Tom Holland, who plays their oldest son, and completely carries this heavy, heavy film. The Impossible falls into the category of "just tragic enough" for most audiences to take; an attribute to its credit considering its more important messages of survivor's guilt and the deep value of helping wherever and whomever we can.
Amour is "deliberate pacing" done right, putting viewers right into the skin and tempo of this aging couple faced with their final days together. In one sense, it's all about how these people occupy their established space, the carefully composed frames on the screen in which they reside. We are, without error, seeing the final act of a life together, fully lived.
In another sense, Amour is deeply unpleasant on a gut, human level. Haneke is no stranger to confrontational filmmaking, and although this has been called his most "hopeful" work, that may just be another way of saying least assaulting. Amour is all about love - difficult, messy, physically withering, in-it-for-the-long-haul love. It's not always pretty, but somehow, even amid a tough ending, it is beautiful.
Django Unchained, historical revenge fantasy through and through, comes out blasting, swearing, and bandying more now-shocking but era-appropriate racial slurs than a lot of folks are going to be comfortable with. Tarantino never even begins to apologize for it, nor should he feel the need. By now most film buffs will know if Tarantino is right for them or not. For those of us who do anticipate his new work, and continue to be impressed by it, it's up to us to navigate the boundaries of when wallowing in brutal, albeit stylized subversion is morally worth it - even as it touts itself within a modernly moral viewpoint, if not a similar reckoning.
In this epic, mythical subversive Western, things must get messy before they get better (even if a larger betterment is the result of a personal mission). And since they happen to be movie characters occupying a movie, these things will go down in movie fashion. And our box office is one fueled by aggression. But perhaps, just maybe, violent revisionist fantasies such as this one can serve as deliberate gaze, forcing sidesteps in our own internal grappling with our national past sins, as well as our own troubled hearts that make for such a situation in the first place. And such consideration is indeed a healthy thing... in between the gunfire.
Holy Motors may leave you fuming, it may leave you floored. With its deep, European foundation of influences and references semi-obscured, many will only grasp a fraction of it outright. Thus, it invites perplexity, multiple viewings, homework, and discussions to follow. Not all will be happy with where they end up. ("The place where limousines go at night.") But for the adventurous cinephile, it is a ride that must be taken.
Case in point, Joss Whedon's The Avengers. A film like no other, in that it successfully brings together the headliners of several other established super hero franchises into one movie, united against a common foe. But in true Marvel Comics form, the unification of these diverse personalities is something that must be worked through before they can function as needed for the greater good. By the end, this team of Earth's Greatest Heroes is an unlikely, if temporary, community unto itself.
An engaging blockbuster worthy of the big screen in every way, and refreshingly appropriate for filmgoers of most ages, it will do that thing that we're otherwise poised to loose in movieland - forge community. That's a tall order for one film, but The Avengers is no ordinary film.
Ann Dowd plays the manager of a fast food restaurant. It's a busy Friday night when a perverted individual posing as a cop calls, and quite convincingly coerces Dowd's character to strip search a young female employee (Dreama Walker) in the back room. From there, it only gets worse. Dowd's performance is a risky and subtle one, unglamorous and unflattering as could be. I'm thrilled that my organization voted to grant her the St. Louis Film Critics Association 2012 Award for Best Supporting Actress.
But beyond the great, gutsy performances and the re-framing of the classical ethical conundrum of why people blindly follow authority, Compliance speaks to our own deeper, darker cinematic obsessions, forcing our gaze upon them. The young pretty girl does in fact undress, but in this context, it's the goreless equivalent of morally probing torture horror.
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2012 was most certainly a rewarding movie year, with even "popcorn" movies like The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises (#49) offering considerable food for thought while heady splendors such as Life of Pi and Holy Motors proved quite enjoyable. As we looked, and continue to look, we see that the reflective surface of the screen is like a calm yet threatening sea, holding up a mirror that we can stare into ourselves with, even as we'd best try not to altogether sink into it.
My Honorable Mentions, #11-20:
11. This Is Not A Film (d. Mojtaba Mirtahmasb, Jafar Panahi. Iran)
12. Beasts of the Southern Wild (d. Benh Zeitlin. USA)
13. Lincoln (d. Steven Spielberg. USA)
14. Zero Dark Thirty (d. Kathryn Bigelow. USA)
15. Wreck-It Ralph (d. Rich Moore. USA)
16. Declaration of War (d. Valérie Donzelli. France)
17. The Perks of Being a Wallflower (d. Stephen Chbosky. USA)
18. Argo (d. Ben Affleck. USA)
19. The Master (d. Paul Thomas Anderson. USA)
20. Seven Psychopaths (d. Martin McDonagh. UK)