1. Unbreakable
I didn’t care for Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense, but his latest offering, the unfairly maligned Unbreakable, went from being a film I never thought I would actually see to being the 2000 movie that moved me the deepest. An entrancing meditation on the close, symbiotic relationship of good and evil (or the power of religious delusion), the film lends itself to quite a few different interpretations. Its mood is mysterious and a tad offbeat for a Hollywood movie; it’s a wacky, thoroughly hypnotic spiritual thriller. One of the greatest accomplishments of the film is its reliance on visuals (which is exhibited in the truest scene in the whole movie, the first one), and Shyamalan punctuates moments with chilling, mesmerizing sound effects. Unbreakable is a keeper, a vivid, atmospheric, and cinematic piece of storytelling by a very assured young writer-director.
2. Hamlet
Having recently studied William Shakespeare’s Hamlet briefly in theatre class, I now have an even greater appreciation for Michael Almereyda’s take on the play. I am usually more than a little skeptical of modernized versions of classics, as are most levelheaded people, but this one is truly exceptional and stunning because it doesn’t transform its source into what it isn’t; it extracts the play’s essence, throws it into the context of today’s world, and watches to see if it floats. It is a testament to the simplicity and relevance of Shakespeare’s masterpiece that it does, and that corporate New York brings out new layers of emotion (and emotional comprehension for the audience) in the legendary text. In one of my favorite moments in Y2K cinema, Hamlet is compared to the young-and-brooding James Dean, and it works completely because it adds a different and apt shade to the character, who has rarely been portrayed as such a tormented, angst-ridden young man. Almereyda blows away some of the dust that collects on works this old and this famous, with the help of John de Borman’s sleek and insidious cinematography, and turns his revitalization into a masterful work in and of itself.
3. Dr. T and the Women
Don’t accuse Robert Altman or Anne Rapp of sexism; accuse Dr. Sullivan Travis, the protagonist in their latest collaboration. Dr. T and the Women can easily be misunderstood as a disgusting visual orgy, with its crowds of female cardboard-cutouts and their complete devotion to the titular character, but it also doesn’t take a great imagination to realize that this flawed, brilliant film is a sly parody of the southern gentleman who worships at the feet of divine women. Dr. Travis is the only character written with any attention to detail or humanity, and that makes sense since we’re seeing everything from his marred point-of-view. When women turn out to be people more complex than he imagined them to be, he freaks. Travis is a much more carnal (or perverted) man than his sweet demeanor lets on; a) he doesn’t hesitate to sleep with Helen Hunt while his wife is being treated for some mental illness suffered only by aristocrats, and b) the film suggests that there’s more to his being a gynecologist than his supposed ability to empathize with women. Still, while Altman and Rapp have a ball shooting down Dr. T’s polite and admiring attitudes towards the female sex, which prove to be their own kind of sexism, they do it in tongue-in-cheek fashion, seeming to almost sympathize with their muddled character.
4. Topsy-Turvy
This was a 1999 leftover that reached my city a few months into 2000. It is a transporting biopic that has more to do with the spirit of theatre than the particulars of its subjects, the famed duo Gilbert and Sullivan. While its first hour is rather tiresome, it is certainly not useless since it prepares us for the burst of pure joy that is the remainder of the film. Topsy-Turvy is a gorgeous work of art direction, and the meticulously crafted sets keep us watching as the putting-together of The Mikado unfolds in delightful vignettes that feature wonderful music gleefully performed. Though I didn’t find the movie to be especially profound on the subject of either artists or the theatre, and was glad of it, the final scenes, which seem to say that no work of entertainment can change the way we live our lives, let alone change the world, nearly brought me to tears.
5. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
After seeing this one, I knew I had to try and acquire some knowledge of the wire-fu genre, so I picked up a wonderful 1991 Hong Kong classic, Swordsman II. It reminded me of the films I used to see on TV when I lived in the East from 1996 to 1998, the movies my uncle always used to watch on Saturday afternoons. However, while having to get reacquainted with the Hong Kong style of martial arts filmmaking, I found the cinematography bleak, depressing, even reminiscent of Tarkovsky. The movie crams huge amounts of often-incomprehensible plot into less than two hours, and it’s a thrilling ride with beautiful fight choreography and a style of editing that’s almost orchestral. Despite being touted the definitive movie of its genre, Swordsman II’s awe-inspiring fight sequences have none of the coherence and clarity of Ang Lee’s acclaimed Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Choreographed by Yuen Wo-ping, whose work in The Matrix was also amazing, the action-packed fight sequences here are filmed with fluidity and are riveting on a physical as well as an intellectual and emotional level. Chow Yun-fat (who reminds me of my uncle) is as cool as ever; the renowned Cheng Pei-pei delivers a devious performance; Michelle Yeoh, according to my dad, pronounces her Mandarin awkwardly, but is still capable; and Zhang Ziyi and Chen Chang are sizzling newcomers. While the plot is pretty generic, and the first half hour seemed stilted and campy, its ordinariness gives the film a mythic quality with an emotional backbone. The movie is sublime, the kind of pleasure Hollywood at its best can conjure up. (I honestly think it will win Best Picture at the Oscars.)
6. Traffic
Traffic is an immense movie about the drug war, but, oddly enough, its biggest flaw is that it’s too short. For a film about “heavy” issues, this one’s pretty darn moving, mainly because it links everything back to family life. Steven Soderbergh expertly navigates a number of plot strands involving the economic, legal, and political sides of the drug trade, including one concerning a filthy rich kingpin and his wife, another one set in a very seedy Mexico, and another featuring Michael Douglas as America’s new Drug Czar and his heroin-addict daughter. Despite the ease with which Soderbergh follows these numerous characters and tackles this ugly, billion-dollar subject (he is helped by his own affective and efficient color scheme in his cinematography), he never makes the cycle of selling and using drugs seem anything less than incredibly complex and disheartening. What is the use of the government’s war on drugs when it’s practically unwinnable? While Traffic’s ending seems a bit too pat, Soderbergh’s answer is more than reasonable: the war needs to start at home.
7. Dancer in the Dark
I’ve heard it said that Dancer in the Dark is emotional pornography. And I’ve heard the conclusion that if it is, it’s definitely hardcore. I think it’s ridiculous to call the film emotional rape; the movies are a consensual experience, an agreement between the filmmaker and the audience. I’ll throw out another analogy: if Dancer in the Dark is going to be compared to sex, then it’s obviously sadomasochistic. Lars von Trier magnifies the techniques of your average Hollywood melodrama several times, tosses it into a pop-alternative musical, and pushes the pain and hurt and martyrdom to outrageous extremes. But it’s still no worse than what the American melodrama does to its audiences, and I love melodramas; the genre exploits our emotions, but it makes us feel. It seems they are specifically tailored for that part of us that enjoys self-pity, and musicals are made for that hopeful, life-loving side of ourselves. It’s amazing how Dancer in the Dark got to me; the musical numbers are tremendously moving, featuring some of the best songs Björk has ever written (on “I’ve Seen It All,” I was choking up; by the time the “Scatterheart” scene played, I had been won over and I was in tears). So the film doesn’t make a lot of sense from a logical standpoint, but, like all good melodramas and musicals, it makes sense in the terms of extreme emotions.
8. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai
The calmest movie I saw all year, Ghost Dog is about connecting and disconnecting, and about the Big Scheme of Things. There’s a religiousness to it. It’s a violent film, but what pertains more to religion than death? The RZA score has a strange, jazzy energy, and the Robby Müller cinematography is unattractive but vital in achieving the atmosphere of the film, which puts all the eerie forces of nature into balance. The film, like the last two M. Night Shyamalan movies, is unpredictable, but all the events are run by karma and seem inevitable. The film is a paradox, merging a slew of contradictions- the certainty and confusion of religion, the Eastern and Western cultures, the desire for peace and the reality of violence- to make a very mystifying thing that I’m sure bears the trademarks of its director, Jim Jarmusch, whom I’m eager to get fully acquainted with.
9. Nurse Betty
It’s not the unpredictability of Nurse Betty that makes it endearing; in fact, I never even thought of it as unpredictable. Instead, it’s the fact that it celebrates illusions instead of bashing a culture deluded by Hollywood. Moreover, it’s because it’s just a joy to watch. The surprising thing about Nurse Betty can be identified if you take the auteurist path and look at it in the context of Neil LaBute’s career. I’m pretty sick of him and other filmmakers bickering about how ugly the world is in such arrogant and indulgent tones; I mean, I love it when storytellers can be honest, but who likes a cynic? This film is an adoring salute to American crazies and the optimist and dreamer in everybody, as corny as that sounds. The real treat is the cast, and LaBute has the sense to let the real driving forces in the film- the actors and the screenplay- shine without his interference. Renee Zellweger is an excellent comedienne with an elastic face and she gives one of my favorite performances of the year. Greg Kinnear is pitch-perfect as a befuddled actor on a soap. Allison Janney and Tia Texada make hilarious appearances. And Chris Rock and Morgan Freeman are able to communicate interesting undercurrents skillfully buried underneath their manic screen chemistry.
10. Cast Away
Forget the poorly handled final act; the middle slice is a spellbinding piece of filmmaking that goes back to the roots of the art form: a series of pictures strung together, and a lot of silence. Not only is Cast Away a tribute to the power of silence in movies, and the relevance of silent films, but it is also further proof that Tom Hanks can fill over an hour of any movie all by himself, with just his everyday charisma, without having to say much of anything. He’s a very good actor and this is one of his best performances. Despite the third act being an overdone, runny mess, the gist of it is resonant: some experiences won’t let you go back.
I thought, contrary to popular belief, that 2000 was a good year for movies. It certainly had a shaky start, and the stream of good films began late in the year; perhaps I feel it wasn’t as bad as some claimed it to be because I saw more first-run movies than I did in previous years. I really like all the films on my top-ten list, and love over half of them. But the aforementioned were not the only films that thrilled me last year. I must cite two runners-up, which I have never done before: the Coen Brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou?, which is a madcap mish-mash of Great Depression iconography that features two incredible musical numbers, and High Fidelity, a beautifully acted, stream-of-consciousness film about lonely people fetishizing pop music.
I can’t completely support the seeming consensus among critics that says 2000 was a great year for movies if you considered the foreign fare since I haven’t seen Edward Yang’s Yi Yi and a bunch of other so-called masterpieces, and because I loved so many American movies released in 2000. However, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was certainly a foreign-language film to treasure, and I have recently seen two gorgeous films not eligible for this list (they are for next year’s): Claire Denis’ Beau Travail from France, and Abbas Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us from Iran. I am glad to say that I feel 2000 yielded at least half a dozen masterpieces, which is good enough for any year.
BEST ACTOR: Michael Douglas for Wonder Boys
Runner-up: Tatsuo Matsumura for Madadayo
BEST ACTRESS: Renee Zellweger for Nurse Betty
Runner-up: Laura Linney for You Can Count on Me
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Greg Kinnear for Nurse Betty
Runner-up: Jeff Bridges for The Contender
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Bonnie Hunt for Return to Me
Runner-up: Kate Hudson for Almost Famous
BEST SCENE: “Scatterheart” in Dancer in the Dark
Runners-up: “Didn’t Leave Nobody But the Baby” in O Brother, Where Art Thou?; “Flirtation on a Train” in Unbreakable; “Fight Between Zhang Ziyi and Michelle Yeoh” in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
I also must speak a little on the year in music videos, since they’re just about the only short films I ever see. There were a few that were passing pleasures. “Otherside” from the Red Hot Chili Peppers was a fitting homage to The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and German Expressionism but was only a little more memorable than their dull clip for “Californication.” The video for D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” was gimmicky yet very raw, matching well with one of the year’s best singles. Robbie Williams’ “Rock DJ” was vile, humorous, and tongue-in-cheek. The Wallflowers’ “Sleepwalker” was minor Mark Romanek, his retread on the visual style and gimmicks he used in such masterpieces as “Closer” and “Criminal,” but there are still some great images here, and its all beautifully photographed. A Perfect Circle’s “Judith” (David Fincher’s return to MTV) was a pretty standard performance video, but its scratched-up look and dim cinematography suggested volume and intensity oozing out of the television screen. No Doubt’s “Ex-Girlfriend” (also one of my favorite singles from last year) was Hype Williams’ first non-hip-hop endeavor, and its neon color scheme has a vibrancy that is lacking in his latest work with rappers and booty-shakers, which comes across, at least to me, as grim and depressing instead of titillating. Probably my favorite video from last year was Madonna’s “Don’t Tell Me," directed by Jean Baptiste Mondino. I suppose I’m a Madonna fan; the song, which is R&B mixed in with country twang, is the best one on Music, which is probably her greatest album. The video is the best one she’s made in about half a decade, since Mondino’s clip for “Love Don’t Live Here Anymore.” It’s simple and works so well with the song that simply hearing the tune on the radio ends up a little unsatisfying.
FAVORITE NEW DISCOVERIES:
My education on the world of the classics has only just begun. I have always been watching old films, but my immersion in them, and in art movies, probably began one or two years ago when Turner Classic Movies named Ingmar Bergman as their Director of the Month, and they played Persona and Wild Strawberries and The Seventh Seal, films that changed my life. I saw a great number of movies in the film canon last year- the most I have ever seen in one year- and I am eager to experience more of the treasures of the past in 2001. More than half of this list of twenty films (made before 1995) ranks among my all-time favorites.
1. The Crowd (1928)
2. L’Avventura (1960)
3. Our Hospitality (1923)
4. Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
5. His Girl Friday (1940)
6. Detour (1945)
7. The 39 Steps (1935)
8. Greed (1924)
9. The Red Shoes (1948)
10. Land Without Bread (1932)
11. The Dentist (1932)
12. Children of Paradise (1945)
13. Walkabout (1971)
14. Barry Lyndon (1975)
15. It’s Always Fair Weather (1955)
16. That Obscure Object of Desire (1977)
17. The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)
18. Throne of Blood (1957)
19. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)
20. Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)
By Andrew Chan [FEBRUARY 23, 2000]