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Best of 2014: #8. Child's Pose

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#8. Child's Pose (Poziția copilului). Călin Peter Netzer. Romania.

Winner of the Golden Bear at last year's Berlinale and starring the grand dame of Romanian cinema Luminița Gheorghiu who has appeared in some of the greatest hits of the country's "new wave" of the past decade (Death of Mr. Lazarescu, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, Aurora, Beyond the Hills), Child's Pose might be the most unusual comedy I've seen in a long time. On its surface, it's a family melodrama about a mother named Cornelia (Gheorghiu) going to all length's to protect her adult son (Bogdan Dumitrache) after he gets into legal trouble after fatally hitting a teenage boy with his car. And on this level, it works beautifully.


Culminating in a moving and upsetting climax, Child's Pose is brilliantly acted throughout and has enough familial drama and tension to fill a standard Lars Von Trier film. But that's the director's clever deception. More than a family drama, Child's Pose is a scathing satire of wealth and privilege. It wasn't until I went back and rewatched the film that I truly noticed the Buñuel-esque touches that reveal Child's Pose's true nature. Is Cornelia a mother who will stop at nothing to keep her son safe, or is she just a woman of power and means trying to subvert justice for her own gain? In fact, she's both of those things, and that's what makes Child's Pose so richly compelling.


With: Luminița Gheorghiu, Bogdan Dumitrache, Vlad Ivanov, Florin Zamfirescu, Ilinca Goia, Nataşa Raab, Adrian Titieni, Mimi Branescu

Best of 2014: #9. Obvious Child

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#9. Obvious Child. Gillian Robespierre. USA.

It's not everyday that I walk away from a film with as many scatological jokes as Obvious Child with such a beaming smile on my face. In what could have been another irritating "modern" rom-com for socially awkward girls, Obvious Child manages to be both hysterically funny and genuinely touching. Less of a girl-meets-boy comedy of errors and more of a girl-tries-to-find-date-for-her-Valentine's-Day-abortion romp, Obvious Child provides the perfect vehicle for star Jenny Slate to elevate from being a bit-part scene-stealer to a gifted leading actor. Along with Lisa Kudrow in The Comeback this year, Slate—with her hilarious stand-up bits and hopelessly uncomfortable run-ins with the father of her fetus (Jake Lacy)—proves the old theory that comedians make excellent transitions into drama (and usually not the other way around).


With: Jenny Slate, Jake Lacy, Gaby Hoffman, Gabe Liedman, Polly Draper, Richard Kind, David Cross, Paul Briganti

Best of 2014: #10. Only Lovers Left Alive

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#10. Only Lovers Left Alive. Jim Jarmusch. UK/Germany/France/Greece/Cyprus.

Director Jim Jarmusch (Stranger than Paradise, Mystery Train, Dead Man) is no stranger to a certain kind of "cool," and it's probably no surprise that he managed to transport his signature love of dark music and deadpan delivery into a vampire tale. "Tale" might be misleading, as it's far more of "a brief episode in the eternal lives of two vampires in love," played by Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton (who also stole every scene in this year's Snowpiercer). Once you accept that Jarmusch is more concerned with the mood of his world (which bounces between Tangiers and Detroit) and the tools that his vampires use to occupy themselves in their eternity than he is with narrative conflict, Only Lovers Left Alive becomes a sumptuous little film with plenty of delights. Hiding behind sunglasses, Swinton with her long windswept white hair and Hiddleston with his rock star saunter are about as alluring a vampire couple as Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie were in The Hunger some thirty years earlier.


With: Tilda Swinton, Tom Hiddleston, Mia Wasikowska, John Hurt, Anton Yelchin, Jeffrey Wright, Slimane Dazi

Best of 2014: Honorable Mention. Nymphomaniac

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Nymphomaniac. Lars von Trier. Denmark/Germany/France/Belgium.

I don't even know what to really say about Lars von Trier's films any more. With each new one, they tend to feel less and less like films and more like events. Hyped to death around the world and across the Internet, the sensations I get leading up to seeing these films feel more like those that I get before long-planned trips or eagerly awaited parties. My subsequent reactions don't feel like responses to the films themselves but to the particular experiences. Those reactions also never feel weighted by my own criticism or opinion. If you asked me whether I liked Nymphomaniac or not, I don't really have an answer.


I find my own experience with Nymphomaniac to be hindered by a number of factors: I watched both volumes alone On Demand from start-to-finish after the theatrical screening was pushed back two weeks; I settled on watching the "theatrical cuts" (which von Trier had nothing to do with) since I couldn't find any information regarding the releases of his versions (which clock in around an hour-and-a-half longer than the studio edits); I eventually watched the director's cuts, at home, both volumes back-to-back and simply found myself comparing the strengths and weaknesses of both versions. I still cannot even say that I like or dislike Nymphomaniac. What I will say critically, however, is that Nymphomaniac (Vol. I, to be specific) contains both the single greatest performance and the single greatest scene in any film this past year.


As Mrs. H, a mother of three whose husband has left her to be with our protagonist Joe (here played by Stacy Martin, whose lack of presence runs the risk of fading her into the wallpaper of every scene; later played by a much more captivating Charlotte Gainsbourg), Uma Thurman enters Joe's apartment (and the film itself) like a hurricane, clutching her three mute boys as she shuffles through Joe's apartment. She refers to her sons always as a collective entity ("the children") and even refuses to use her husband's name ("the children's father" suffices) and asks Joe, "would it be alright if we showed the children the whoring bed?" She escorts the sad angel-faced children into the bedroom as if they were walking into a museum exhibit, showing the children "the whoring bed," or their Daddy's new favorite place. My descriptions of the scene and Uma's performance can't do either the justice they deserve, but "shattering" is a word that comes to mind. Nothing that follows comes anywhere near the fever pitch of this chapter. Neither Thurman nor von Trier have ever shined brighter than they did in those 10-to-15 minutes, and even if I can't really tell you that I liked (or even disliked) Nymphomaniac, I can assure you that Uma made the experience totally worthwhile.


With: Charlotte Gainsbourg, Stellan Skarsgård, Stacy Martin, Shia LaBoeuf, Christian Slater, Willem Dafoe, Uma Thurman, Mia Goth, Sophie Kennedy Clark, Connie Nielsen, Michael Pas, Jamie Bell, Jean-Marc Barr, Udo Kier, Jens Albinus, Jesper Christensen, Nicolas Bro, Hugo Speer, Christian Gade Bjerrum, Jonas Baeck, Christoph Schechinger, Jesse Inman, David Halina, Anders Hove, Simon Boer, Cyron Melville, Saskia Reeves

Best of 2014: Cinema

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Few years in recent memory have felt as lousy as 2014. I fear that I might make such a claim every year, but in looking back, it's been a while since I've struggled to put together ten films from a given year that I could call "the ten best films of the year" or even "my top 10," if I'm trying to keep things more subjective. While cinema seemed to stand still, I saw far more impressive work on television this year, as TV continues to "up its game" on nearly all fronts (well, maybe not CBS). HBO's The Comeback and Olive Kitteridge, Comedy Central's Broad City, and Amazon Prime's Transparent all stood taller than any of the new films I saw this past year—a claim my snobby, cinema purist 21-year-old self would scoffed at if he heard me say it.


This year, I noticed critics and audiences grabbing hold of a bunch of films whose flaws (or lack of charisma) tended to outweigh the strengths. From impressive feats like Boyhood to above-average sci-fi actioners like Snowpiercer to avant-garde critical darlings like Under the Skin to standard, moderately spooky horror yarns like The Babadook, so few films managed to shake me in the ways my top 5 of 2013 did—Stranger by the Lake, Blue Is the Warmest Color, Top of the Lake (which I would have disqualified from the list if I had known it would be returning for a second series), Bastards, and Spring Breakers. For at least those five, I had zero reservations singing my praise about them.

With each of the 2014 films I've chosen (some of which are festival leftovers from 2013 that had a U.S. theatrical run during this calendar year), there's a hesitation I feel in each one. I was impressed on different levels by them all, or I wouldn't have made this list, but something's still missing. In an attempt to focus on the strengths of the films I've listed over the weaknesses, I've decided to leave the #1 slot blank—possibly to be filled at a later date, or perhaps to remain as a reminder of how lackluster of a year 2014 was for film. I'll be posting a couple runners-up and a music list at a later date. So, at last for 2014, here are my 9 favorite films, an honorable mention, 9 runners-up, and the 2 films I truly hated. Click here to read the posts in descending order. NOTE: The "Runners-Up" section is for the best of the year, not the worst. Just to clarify.


1.
2. Force majeure (Turist). Ruben Östlund. Sweden/France/Norway.
3. Ida. Paweł Pawlikowski. Poland/Denmark/France/UK.
4. Xenia. Panos H. Koutras. Greece/France/Belgium.
5. Misunderstood (Incompresa). Asia Argento. Italy/France.
6. Abuse of Weakness (Abus de faiblesse). Catherine Breillat. France/Germany/Belgium.
7. Maps to the Stars. David Cronenberg. Canada/Germany/USA/France.
8. Child's Pose (Poziția copilului). Călin Peter Netzer. Romania.
9. Obvious Child. Gillian Robespierre. USA.
10. Only Lovers Left Alive. Jim Jarmusch. UK/Germany/France/Greece/Cyprus.


Honorable Mention:

  • Nymphomaniac. Lars von Trier. Denmark/Germany/France/Belgium.

The Worst of 2014:


Runners-Up:


  • Young & Beautiful (Jeune et jolie). François Ozon. France.
  • Something Must Break (Nånting måste gå sönder). Ester Martin Bergsmark. Sweden.
  • Under the Skin. Jonathan Glazer. UK.
  • Gerontophilia. Bruce LaBruce. Canada.
  • You and the Night (Les rencontres d'après minuit). Yann Gonzalez. France.
  • X-Men: Days of Future Past. Bryan Singer. USA/UK.
  • Boyhood. Richard Linklater. USA.
  • Gloria. Sebastián Lelio. Chile/Spain.
  • Little Gay Boy. Antony Hickling. France.

Best of 2014: Music

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If 2014 was a lackluster year for film, it was a pretty fantastic one for music, at least from my own vantage point. As the ways in which we consume and discover new music rapidly changes, I can never assume what anyone I know encounters throughout a given year. I also have no idea the best way to present this list to you. YouTube links? A Spotify playlist? Or are you using Rdio? Should I spend an extra hour gathering all the mp3s and uploading a zip file? I don't know, so I'll just do it as I've done in previous years with links to the songs in question (most of which surprisingly didn't come with music videos… maybe I have no idea what makes and what doesn't make a single these days). I wanted to single out the ten albums that got the most rotation from me this year, both to broaden the number of tracks I'm posting but to distinguish a little between the ways in which I personally consumed the 2014 music I came across. This isn't to say that the albums the 20 singles I'm posting below aren't worth your time. It's just that I found myself drawn to the single in question over the actual album—perhaps because I didn't even hear the rest of it.


If I had to choose the best new track I heard in 2014, that honor would go to the first single off the Swedish group Lust for Youth's latest album International: a little ditty called "Epoetin Alfa." I, too, am disappointed at the lack of pop music on the list, but either I missed it (very likely) or 2014 wasn't a good year for it. I actually liked Grimes' summer single "Go," even if it sounded pretty dated and uncool. I'm happy Rihanna passed on it so we could hear Grimes explore her vocal range, and I'm also happy her fans didn't like it, prompting her to trash her album and start fresh. Special mention to two albums I listened to the shit out of that aren't exactly 2014 albums: The Knife's Shaken-Up Versions, which is basically the tour album for their Shaking the Habitual tour (which is also the duo's farewell tour), and Cold Cave's Full Cold Moon, which is really just a compilation of the singles the band released since their last album. For samples of each, check out the lesbian redux of The Knife's classic "Pass This On" featuring Shannon Funchess of Light Asylym and "God Made the World" from Cold Cave. Whatever, I hope all this copying-and-pasting is of some use to you guys. Here's to new PJ Harvey in 2015!

10 Tracks from the 10 Albums I Liked/Listened to Most, No Order:





21 Additional Tunes, Including My Favorite Song of 2014 at the Top


The Worst of 2015: Jurassic World

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Jurassic World. Colin Trevorrow. USA.

Following not-so-closely on the heels of two famously reviled sequels, Jurassic World certainly should have earned its place next to its unfortunate predecessors, The Lost World and Jurassic Park III, but from the rock I’m currently living under, few people seemed as vocal about their disdain for this trash as they had been for the others. Admittedly, I have a soft spot for the Alexander Payne-penned third installment which brings an embarrassed Sam Neill back as Dr. Alan Grant to one of the dinosaur-infested islands with a hilariously neurotic divorced couple, played by Téa Leoni and William H. Macy, in search of their missing son... Payne's involvement even coaxed Laura Dern to briefly return to the series, quite literally phoning in (on a white cordless phone) the bulk of her screentime to Neill from her suburban paradise. Fourteen years later, the Park has been upgraded to a World, a tourist attraction for dumb Americans who are already on the verge of losing interest. Like the two irritating kids in the original, a pair of teenage siblings—one a weepy prepubescent nerd, the other a suspiciously horny date-rape-bro-in-the-making—fly to Jurassic World to visit their shrew of an aunt (tediously played by Bryce Dallas Howard), who runs the island's prehistoric attractions with a sharp ginger bob and a sensible pair of heels that can withstand walking on grass, through the jungle, and away from hungry dinosaurs. Thankfully, when chaos erupts on the island as it has been known to do, a hammy, humorless velociraptor trainer (played stone-faced by Chris Pratt, who apparently traded his charm in for a chance to be a chiseled, boring action star) comes to save the day (I guess).


Director Colin Trevorrow manages to produce a decent action sequence or two over the course of Jurassic World, but in just his second film, he brings along almost all of the worst aspects of his terrible debut feature, Safety Not Guaranteed: a contrived centralized romance between two characters you're actively rooting against (played by two actors who fall somewhere around Natalie Portman and Hayden Christensen in Star Wars on the scale of onscreen chemistry, or lack thereof); laughless comic relief from the insufferable supporting cast (Jake Johnson is slightly less irritating here than he was in Safety); groan-inducing dialogue; a disappointing and unwarranted narrative “twist;” and a cheap, but plentiful dose of queasy sentimentality. But despite all of this, I got the impression that a lot of people over the age of twelve didn't mind Jurassic World, which boggles my mind. The only aspect in which Jurassic World actually succeeds is in proving what a truly astonishing feat Steven Spielberg accomplished with the original, a near-perfect Hollywood blockbuster that remains as magical and as thrilling as it was nearly twenty-five years ago. Hollow, bloated, and joyless, Jurassic World is just a sad reminder of how seldom films like Jurassic Park actually come around.


How about this alternate ending? Instead of finding the love that melts her icy exterior to reveal a conveniently gross maternal instinct, Bryce Dallas Howard gets eaten by the T. rex down to her ankles, leaving her high-heeled feet on the doorsteps of Jurassic World (I mean, really, what kind of misogynist bullshit was at play with those fucking heels?)... as the film's swishy pair of pseudo-villains, played by Vincent D'Onofrio and BD Wong, board a helicopter that flies romantically into the sunset just as the iconic John Williams score begins to play.

With: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Vincent D'Onofrio, Nick Robinson, Ty Simpkins, Irrfan Kahn, Jake Johnson, BD Wong, Omar Sy, Judy Greer, Lauren Lapkus

Worst of 2015: The Overnight

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The Overnight. Patrick Brice. USA.

Let’s hope in the coming new year that we see an end to the unsavory cinematic trend of using fake genitalia! As the most glaring and embarrassing example of a fad that’s been on a slow incline since Mark Wahlberg whipped Dirk Diggler’s bright shining star out in Boogie Nights, The Overnight finds Jason Schwartzman and Adam Scott donning fake dicks that look to have been stolen from the set of a Muppet porn shoot for an extended length of time, as penis size is just one of the many not-so-subtle themes that the film hacks through over the course of a single evening.

Essentially a cartoonish retread of Radley Metzger’s sexploitation masterpiece Score!, The Overnight substitutes high-class erotica and perfectly-executed camp for a positively unsexy and supremely unfunny exploration of a boring, white couple (Scott and Taylor Schilling) in Los Angeles’ “wild” night with a pair of wealthy swingers (Schwartzman and Judith Godrèche). The Overnight misses every target it foolishly tries to hit, whether that be attempts at playful absurdity with Schwartzman’s studio full of paintings of assholes and Godrèche’s part-time job as a breast-pump model or woefully sincerity about what it’s like to be a “modern couple” (you know, the kind where the woman can be the breadwinner). Whoever thought a night of skinny-dipping, pansexual orgies, and drug-taking could be such a fucking drag.

I’ll consider it a blessing that I only saw two films in 2015 that I truly hated (though I almost considered seeing David O. Russell’s Joy simply to add it to the list). I’ll be posting the 2015 Best Of throughout the week.

 With: Adam Scott, Taylor Schilling, Jason Schwartzman, Judith Godrèche

Best of 2015: The Here After (Magnus von Horn)

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The Here After (Efterskalv). Magnus von Horn. Sweden/Poland/France.

The bleak Scandinavian chamber drama is a class of film dear to my cold heart, and Magnus von Horn’s feature debut is one of the better offerings I’ve seen come out of Sweden since the passing of the genre’s forefather, Ingmar Bergman. Immaculately lensed by Polish cinematographer Lukasz Zal (Ida), The Here After concerns John, a teenage boy just released from prison after murdering his girlfriend, and his unsuccessful attempt to reassemble himself into a town and family that still hasn’t recovered from the tragedy.

What follows is expectedly hopeless and grueling, as the town grapples with alternating anger, denial, confusion, and curiosity, and von Horn explores these conflicting emotions with a surprising depth. Cryptically played by Ulrik Munther, who truly looks like an over-sized child with his baby face and wiry appendages, John remains a haunting blank slate throughout the film, as the people around him start to crumble. The Here After will open theatrically in the U.K. from Soda Pictures in March and currently does not have U.S. distribution. In France, Nour Films will release The Here After under the title Le lendemain sometime later this year.

With: Ulrik Munther, Mats Blomgren, Alexander Nordgren, Wieslaw Komasa, Loa Ek, Ellen Jelinek, Inger Nilsson, Oliver Heilmann, Felix Göransson, Stefan Cronwall

Best of 2015: The Club (Pablo Larraín)

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The Club (El club). Pablo Larraín. Chile.

Winner of the Grand Jury Prize at this year’s Berlinale, the latest from Pablo Larraín (No, Tony Manero) is a searing portrait of a group of ostracized Catholic priests (and a nun), sequestered by the church to a small coastal town where they keep a low profile. Hoping to usher in a new era of Catholicism after nearly two decades of scandal, the church sends a young priest (Marcelo Alonso) to the town to assess the situation after a brutal confrontation threatens to expose their dirty secret of protecting clergy members suspected of serious wrongdoing.

Phenomenally acted by the entire ensemble cast, most of whom have appeared in several of Larraín’s previous films, The Club cleverly introduces us to a seemingly hapless group of charming misfits dancing along the line of stability in their secluded purgatory, but everything culminates in a brilliant, jarring climax that really illustrates the gravity of what we’ve been witnessing over the course of the film. Submitted as Chile’s official selection for the 2016 Academy Awards, The Club marks another sophisticated and nefarious success for the gifted, young director. The Club will be released by Music Box Films theatrically in the U.S. in February and by Network Releasing in the U.K. in March. Wild Bunch Distribution released El club in theatres in France this past November.

With: Marcelo Alonso, Alfredo Castro, Roberto Farias, Antonia Zegers, Jaime Vadell, Alejandro Goic, Alejandro Sieveking, José Soza, Francisco Reyes, Gonzalo Valenzuela, Diego Muñoz, Catalina Pulido

Best of 2015: Carol (Todd Haynes)

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Carol. Todd Haynes. USA/UK.

Only the upcoming award season will be able to tell us whether the buzz patrol (or the hype train, as my friend Brian put it) had done a disservice to Todd Haynes’ latest triumph or not. After all, Carol, an adaptation of Patricia Highman’s 1952 novel The Price of Salt, has been gaining traction since last May, when it was poised to win the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, only to lose out to Jacques Audiard’s Dheepan and be awarded a shared consolation prize for Best Actress (curiously awarded to Rooney Mara instead of Cate Blanchett and split between Mara and Emmanuelle Bercot for Mon roi). And yet with all the hype and all the praise surrounding Carol, I still found myself unspoiled and even a bit surprised by the film, an elegant and enthralling experience (two adjectives I never thought I’d see myself using to describe a Hollywood lesbian melodrama in 2015).

Like fine wine and Anne Bancroft, Blanchett appears to get better with age, and as the title character, she’s impeccable. Smoking cigarettes, wrapping Christmas gifts, and removing one’s gloves has never been quite this alluring. Dividing his career into two clear arenas (“women’s films” and “rock n roll pictures”), Carol sits beautifully alongside Haynes’ other “women’s films” (easily the preferable of the two sides): Safe, Far from Heaven, and Mildred Pierce. I’ll be curious to see how he does combining both elements like he did with the brilliant Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story in his next feature, a Peggy Lee biopic with Reese Witherspoon. For Carol, I just hope that you too are unphased by that precarious hype train and that I haven’t added fuel to that fire. Carol is now playing theatrically in the U.S. and the U.K. from The Weinstein Company and StudioCanal respectively. UGC Distribution will open the film next week in France.

With: Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Kyle Chandler, Sarah Paulson, Jake Lacy, John Magaro, Cory Michael Smith, Carrie Brownstein

Best of 2015: All Yours (David Lambert)

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All Yours (Je suis à toi). David Lambert. Belgium/Canada.

Shamefully overlooked by the mainstream film festival circuit as well as the LGBT ones, All Yours is Belgian filmmaker David Lambert’s bold and arresting follow-up to his well-regarded, more widely seen debut feature Beyond the Walls (Hors les murs), which premiered at Cannes back in 2012 and enjoyed a healthy festival run at gay fests across the globe. Perhaps due to a spoiler-y plot detail that arrives in the film’s third act, the gay festivals (in the U.S., at least) shied away from All Yours, and while lead actor Nahuel Pérez Biscayart (Glue) was rightfully awarded the Best Actor prize at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, All Yours didn’t see the mainline festival run it deserved following its premiere at Karlovy Vary.

As a brash, desperate hustler from Argentina who accepts an invitation to become the live-in boyfriend of a much older baker (Jean-Michel Balthazar, a regular of the Dardenne brothers) in Belgium, Biscayart is sensational, and like the protagonist in Beyond the Walls, Biscayart’s Lucas is a deeply complicated, impulsive, and frustrating figure, one you don’t often see at the center of a film… and one that’s hard to keep your eyes off. Rounding out the sad bizarre love triangle is the Audrey (Monia Chokri of Xavier Dolan’s Heartbeats), a guarded young mother who works at the bakery.

Visually audacious and dramatically complex, All Yours should have announced Lambert as a visionary filmmaker on the rise, but as I’ve expressed many times before, I never quite seem to have my finger on the pulse. In the U.S., All Yours is currently streaming on both Netflix and Hulu from Breaking Glass Pictures for your viewing pleasure; it currently doesn’t have distribution in the U.K. Outplay Films released Je suis à toi theatrically in France earlier this year.

With: Nahuel Pérez Biscayart, Jean-Michel Balthazar, Monia Chokri, Augustin Legrand, Anne-Marie Loop, Achille Ridolfi

Best of 2015: Tales of the Grim Sleeper (Nick Broomfield)

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Tales of the Grim Sleeper. Nick Broomfield. UK/USA.

With the year book-ended by a pair of first-rate miniseries (Andrew Jarecki’s The Jinx on HBO and Moira Demos and Laura Ricciardi’s Making a Murderer on Netflix, respectively), 2015 felt a little bit like the year of the true crime documentary, and how fitting for a year marked by civil unrest, racial injustice, and a growing distrust in the police force. You can hear these sentiments echoed throughout Nick Broomfield’s Tales of the Grim Sleeper, a troubling mosaic about a serial killer who haunted the streets of South Central Los Angeles over a twenty-five-year period. No stranger to making films about murder conspiracies (see Kurt & Courtney and its thematic sequel Biggie & Tupac, as well as the pair of Aileen Wuornos docs he made), Broomfield takes a different angle with this film, trying to piece together testimonials about The Grim Sleeper, who was widely believed to have been able to carry out his crimes due to the racial discrimination and negligence of the local law enforcement.

Getting nowhere as a white British man with a camera in South LA, he enlists the help of Pam Brooks, a former prostitute with the sort of star quality young Hollywood couldn’t sell their souls to obtain, who helps him look for a number of missing women believed to have been victims of The Grim Sleeper. With so much time passed and so little evidence, Broomfield pieces together fragments of a terrifying portrait of America, merely scratching the surface of a story that’s pages have been torn out, raising questions that won’t ever have an answer. Tales of the Grim Sleeper is available streaming on HBOGo and HBO Now in the U.S. and was released by Sky Vision in the U.K.

Best of 2015: Everlasting Love (Marçal Forés)

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Everlasting Love (Amor eterno). Marçal Forés. Spain.

Comparing Marçal Forés’ Everlasting Love to Alain Guiraudie’s Stranger by the Lake (L'inconnu du lac) is almost unavoidable. Both films explore the darker aspects of human desire. And both center around seedy public cruising areas where a lusty, fatalistic affair ignites before traveling down a sinister path of no return. Everlasting Love takes a more infernal path than Stranger by the Lake, blending horror elements with a touch of surrealism as a chance run-in between Carlos (Joan Bentallé), a Japanese language professor, and Toni, (Aimar Vega), a quiet, withdrawn student of his, in the gay cruising woods leads to an afterschool sexual encounter, initiating a dangerous obsession.

Following his debut feature Animals, a wonderfully offbeat coming-of-age film about a teenage boy and his teddy bear who’s come to life, Forés crafts another unsettling, polarizing tale that blends genres together to assemble its own strange and unusual world. Framing the film around Carlos, a handsome daddy with a taste for no-strings-attached encounters and a pattern of crossing ethical and moral boundaries, Everlasting Love highlights the fears of a specific type of gay man—single, professional, middle-aged man with the libido of a teenager and an aversion to commitment—and then perpetuates them by proving that playing with fire will lead to its proverbial conclusion and reiterating a dread-including concern many of us have speculated at some point in our lives: the kids are definitely not all right.

Everlasting Love was released by TLA Releasing in the U.S. and the U.K. and, under its original title Amor eterno, by Optimale in France a few months back. In the U.S., it’s available for streaming on the new gay platform Dekkoo.

With: Joan Bentallé, Aimar Vega, Sonny Smith, Joana Mallol, Miguel Rojas, Adrián de Alfonso, Oriol Vilalta

Best of 2015: Full Contact (David Verbeek)

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Full Contact. David Verbeek. Netherlands/Croatia.

Working from an air force base somewhere in the Nevada desert halfway across the world from the targets he's surveying, Ivan, a stoic drone operator played by Claire Denis’ muse Grégoire Colin, finds his life spiraling out of control following the accidental bombing of a Muslim school that he mistook for a terrorist camp. Distracting himself with the company of a Las Vegas stripper (Lizzie Brocheré), Ivan finds himself unable to maintain an emotional distance from his work and from his involvement in that attack, just as the film takes a bold, surreal turn.

Arguably the most visually astounding movie of 2015 (kudos to Dutch cinematographer Frank van den Eeden, whose work was equally as impressive in Nicolas Provost’s The Invader (L’envahisseur) a few years back), David Verbeek’s Full Contact, his strongest film to date, is a mystifying experience that defies easy characterization or classification. Without going too much into detail, it best resembles David Lynch’s Lost Highway in terms of narrative devices, not to mention the bewildering feeling it ultimately leaves you with. It’s divisive, for certain, and sometimes that alone is enough for my admiration.

However, like another polarizing film from 2015, Sebastián Silva’s Nasty Baby, Full Contact suffers from starting stronger than it finishes. But the narrative shifts in Full Contact function less like a clinical experiment on the audience’s emotional investment as they do in Nasty Baby than an audacious mode for probing the intertwining themes of guilt and rebirth. Additionally, a lot of Full Contact’s success relies on a pair of impressive, bilingual turns from both Brocheré, who somehow manages to mask her French accent flawlessly when speaking English, and Colin, whose detached presence is truly haunting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any distribution information regarding Full Contact outside of the Netherlands.

With: Grégoire Colin, Lizzie Brocheré, Slimane Dazi, Alain Blazevic, Robert Jozinovic

Best of 2015: Neon Bull (Gabriel Mascaro)

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Neon Bull (Boi Neon). Gabriel Mascaro. Brazil/Uruguay/Netherlands.

What’s most impressive about Gabriel Mascaro’s Neon Bull isn’t its lush cinematography by Diego García (who also shot Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Cemetery of Splendor this year) that gorgeously captures the sweeping landscape of the northeast region of Brazil as effortlessly as the tight, confined spaces where the characters (and the bulls) spend their more intimate moments. It’s not the truly remarkable performance by Alyne Santana, making her screen debut as precocious girl named Cacá who travels with her go-go dancer mother in a troupe of traveling vaqueiros (essentially Brazilian cowboys), at the heart of the film (and know that I don’t often find a lot of praise to give for performances by children).

It isn’t the epic, hypnotic sex scene that occurs late in the film and actually manages to break new ground (as difficult as that may be) in the canon of cinematic sexuality… nor is it the languid pace Mascaro uses to tell his story… nor the refreshing sensitivity that he employs to approach his characters, flaws and all. What makes Neon Bull so impressive is the fact that there’s almost no frame of reference for everything we see transpire onscreen. Unlike, say, Quentin Tarantino (for lack of a subtler example), Neon Bull is not the culmination of all the films, all the music, all the stories Mascaro has seen, heard, or read. It almost feels defiant against the notion of allusion, but rejecting the viewer’s expectations just for the sake of doing so can be a really cheap move… and that’s not what Mascaro doing here.

Nothing that happens in Neon Bull follows an expected course of action or fits into a familiar mold. This extends from the characters’ interactions with one another to the role of the titular “neon bull” to the images that inhabit the screen—whether those images function on a purely visual level like a long shot of Iremar (Juliano Cazarré) on an empty dirt field littered with rainbow-colored streamers and broken mannequins (pictured above) or whether they service the story itself like a sequence involving two men masturbating a bull.

Despite some of these lascivious details I’ve mentioned, Neon Bull’s strengths are so quiet and unassuming that it might seem easy for a passive audience member to miss them altogether. Kino Lorber will release Neon Bull in the U.S. later this year. No word on either a French or U.K. release at this time.

With: Juliano Cazarré, Alyne Santana, Maeve Jinkings, Carlos Pessoa, Vinícius de Oliveira, Josinaldo Alves, Samya de Lavor, Abigail Pereira, Roberto Berindelli, Marcelo Caetano

Best of 2015: Nova Dubai (Gustavo Vinagre)

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Nova Dubai (New Dubai). Gustavo Vinagre. Brazil.

When radical queers bemoan the rise in the gay marriage movement or the focus of institutions like the Human Rights Campaign, their criticisms can be echoed outside of just the political climate of the West and into the the realm of LGBT film festivals (or, perhaps LBGT cinema as a whole, even if those descriptions are troubling). With a few exceptions around Europe, gay film festivals have become the dumping grounds for whitewashed, heteronormative, sexually conservative drivel. In all fairness, they may have always functioned in that way, but hopefully not at the expense of challenging, exciting queer cinema and video art. When you start seeing things like Roland Emmerich’s mercifully ignored Stonewall on your local gay film festival’s schedule and not Gustavo Vinagre’s Nova Dubai (literally New Dubai), something’s amiss with the programming.

Indelibly opening with a shot of a man’s face buried in the hairy ass of another, writer/director/star Vinagre sets the tone and precedent for Nova Dubai. While certainly not catering to everyone’s taste, the first seconds of the film give you an idea for what lies ahead. And what lies ahead is at once hilarious, sexy, moving, and scandalous; it’s the sort of film I’d imagine Curt McDowell (Thundercrack!) would be making if he were born in the 1980s.

Set in a small town in Brazil that’s being overrun by new housing developments, Nova Dubai explores its setting like a sexual tour guide of a city on the cusp of over-development and (everyone’s favorite buzzword of the past few years) gentrification. Through these construction sites and once-deserted areas, the characters confront a series of overpowering truths—their sexual proclivities, these housing projects, a sad desperation that may or may not be the product of mental illness—all of which the characters accept as things beyond their personal control. Their rebellion is felt as strongly as their ultimate concession, and the emotions that arise from that are conflicted, at best.

Nova Dubai is the sort of defiant, challenging example of queer cinema we desperately need to see more of. In fact, each of the queer films on my list this year fill a particular void, but the deficiency that Nova Dubai represents feels the most urgent and necessary. It’s a grand accomplishment that won’t ever reach the audience it deserves, which is a testament to the film’s ability to provoke its audience, an act that should be embraced by the world of LGBT film festivals even if it’s clearly not.

Nova Dubai made its North American premiere at the Art of the Real film program at the Film Society Lincoln Center last April. I don’t have any distribution information for it, but be sure to keep an eye out for it at your local festivals that tend toward more adventurous programming.

With: Gustavo Vinagre, Bruno D’Ugo, Hugo Guimarães, Fernando Maia, Caetano Gotardo, Daniel Prates, Herman Barck, Marta Vinagre

Best of 2015: Te prometo anarquía (Julio Hernández Cordón)

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Te prometo anarquía (I Promise You Anarchy). Julio Hernández Cordón. Mexico/Germany.

If you held a knife to my throat and forced me to choose a number 1 for my 2015 list, my favor would probably lean toward Julio Hernández Cordón's Te prometo anarquía (literally in English, I Promise You Anarchy), a film about a handsome twentysomething skateboarder named Miguel (Diego Calva Hernández) who organizes black market blood drives in Mexico City. Though it's never explicitly stated, one can infer the increased demand for blood to be a direct reflection on the growing rate of drug cartel-related violence in Mexico.

Expertly directed and written by Hernández Cordon (Gasolina, Marimbas from Hell), Te prometo anarquía places an unusual trust in its audience, avoiding the tendency to give too much explanation to its narrative or overly define the world it inhabits. It's strange that trusting one's audience (and in turn, one's own writing) would still seem like a bold act of defiance, but it still feels like such a rare occurrence. The pieces for Te prometo anarquía are laid delicately, unassumingly, and they culminate into the film superbly.

As I mentioned in my piece of Nova Dubai, each of the queer films on my list this year represent a void in the greater spectrum of cinema. If Carol is the big, polished Hollywood film that's actually of quality, then Te prometo anarquía is the queer international feature that treats sexuality (or at least sexual labeling) as an afterthought. Neither the film not its protagonist thrive on sexuality or queerness; they're just pieces of a larger whole that has nothing to do with sexual preference. This isn't to say that it's the cinematic equivalent of a douchey masc4masc "I'm just a dude who happens to like men" bullshit... It's just that queer/gay sexuality is a fluid detail of a film that isn't about sexuality at all. While the film doesn't put an unnecessary weight on any specific element or theme (to its credit), aspects like class distinction, particularly between Miguel and his best friend/sometime lover Johnny (Eduardo Eliseo Martínez), end up playing a bigger role in the overall picture.

With its deft screenplay, natural performances, hazily sumptuous cinematography by María Secco (who has shot several of Hernández Cordon’s previous films), Te prometo anarquía moved me in a way a lot of films usually fail to do. It caters to a number of my specific interests—melancholy, floppy haired boys who look like they were snatched up at a casting session for the new Gus Van Sant film; the appearance of Galaxie 500 on the soundtrack; plot details that are left hauntingly unanswered—while also being an otherwise exceptional motion picture. I don't have any distribution information on Te prometo anarquía, but keep an eye out for it at festivals in 2016.

With: Julio Hernández Cordón, Eduardo Eliseo Martínez, Shvasti Calderón, Oscar Mario Botello, Gabriel Casanova, Sarah Minter, Martha Claudia Moreno, Diego Escamilla Corona, Milkman, Erwin Jonathan Mora Alvarado, Juan Pablo Escalante

Best of 2015: Ten Honorable Mentions

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For fun, I’ve also put together a list of 10 more films that wouldn’t exactly qualify as numbers 11 through 20 of my favorite films of the past year as much as simple honorable mentions for leaving some impact on me (not always positive). Here they are alphabetically:



Amy. Asif Kapadia. UK/USA.

Effectively made, linear biographical doc about the tragic late singer Amy Winehouse that avoids the use of talking heads and bland cultural theorists. It seems slightly ahead of its time, in that docs of this manner will probably be the standard for young stars whose lives were cut short in the limelight with the immensely increased use of video in nearly all of our personal lives. It’s rather surprising that director Asif Kapadia (Senna) was able to obtain so much valuable footage of the singer in her early days, when video wasn’t exactly the norm. Amy has been released on video and on demand in the U.S. through A24 Films, in the U.K. through Altitude Film Distribution, and in France through Mars Distribution.



Barash. Michal Vinik. Israel.

An excellent coming-of-age tale of a rebellious Israeli teen girl whose affair with a new female classmate is given a back seat to a more fascinating story about the girl’s older sister who has gone AWOL from the military and has disrupted the entire family unit. Unfortunately, I don’t have any distribution information regarding Barash. Keep an eye out in festivals this year.



Big Father, Small Father and Other Stories. Phan Dang Di. Vietnam/France/Germany/Netherlands.

Cryptic and gorgeous film about a trio of youth at the dawn of the new millennium in Saigon that concludes with a truly memorable and lengthy tussle through the dark, muddy forests that surround the city, from the director of Bi, Don’t Be Afraid!Big Father, Small Father and Other Stories will be released in France as Pères, fils et autres histoires by Memento Films later this year. No word on U.S. or U.K. distribution.



Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief. Alex Gibney. USA.

As compelling and shocking as it should be, despite omitting some key elements from the book. Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief can be viewed through HBO’s On Demand sites in the U.S. I’m not sure about other parts of the world.



It Follows. David Robert Mitchell. USA.

An inspired horror film with a fantastic John Carpenter-esque score. I had trouble deciphering how exactly the film treated sexuality (the menace is transmitted through sexual intercourse). But despite a rather disappointing finale, It Follows was easily the best offering of the genre this past year. It Follows is currently on video and on demand in the U.S. through Radius, in the U.K. through Icon, and in France through Métropolitan Filmexport.



Jason and Shirley. Stephen Winter. USA.

A fascinating fictional retelling of the making of Shirley Clarke’s landmark documentary Portrait of Jason. I wrote more about Jason and Shirley for Frameline earlier this year. I don’t have any distribution information on the film.



Nasty Baby. Sebastián Silva. USA/Chile.

Nasty Baby is the kind of film that truly pisses people off, and as I discussed in my piece on Full Contact, I kind of admire that spirit. I have friends who reside on both sides of the fence with this one, but I probably fall with arms and legs dangling on both ends. I resent and appreciate its manipulation, but in all honesty, I was pretty taken with it before it took its devious turn, which I’m not convinced actually worked. The supporting cast, which includes the always wonderful Kristen Wiig, Mark Margolis, and Alia Shawkat, is great nonetheless. Nasty Baby is available on video and on demand in the U.S. from The Orchard, and will be released by Network Releasing in the U.K. in April. No word on a French release.



A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron). Roy Andersson. Sweden/Germany/Norway/France/Denmark.

Not nearly as brilliant as its predecessors, 2000’s Songs from the Second Floor and 2007’s You, the Living, Roy Andersson’s conclusion to his unnamed trilogy about human beings is still rightfully amusing and visually potent. A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is available on demand and streaming on Netflix from Magnolia Pictures in the U.S., as well as in the U.K. through Curzon Artificial Eye, and through Les Films du Losange in France as Un pigeon perché sur une branche philosophait sur l’existence.



Seashore (Beira-Mar). Filipe Matzembacher, Marcio Reolon. Brazil.

A quiet, moody tale of unexpected young gay love in Brazil, a country which made a pretty strong showing on my end of the year lists. It’s stunning to look at and one of the stronger films I saw circulating the gay film festival circuit last year. Seashore is available on video and on demand (and on Netflix currently) in the U.S. from Wolfe Releasing. It will be released theatrically in France by Epicentre Films under the title Beira-Mar; ou l’âge des premières fois in February. I didn’t find any U.K. info.



Welcome to New York. Abel Ferrara. France/USA.

A real fucking hot potato of a movie loosely based on the exploits of defamed French politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Abel Ferrara’s Welcome to New York is at once a hypnotic bit of high art/high sleaze erotica, adorned with dazzling, lengthy sequences of gluttony and perversion, all heightened by the lead performance by Gérard Depardieu at his most repellant. The film loses something once it turns into a courtroom drama, with some sketchy, very Abel Ferrara moments between Depardieu and Jacqueline Bissett as his wife, but like several other of Ferrara’s works (notably The Blackout or New Rose Hotel), Welcome to New York is a fascinating failure that is best appreciated by those versed in the underrated American filmmaker’s oeuvre. There’s plenty of drama involving the release of Welcome to New York in the U.S. from IFC Films, who apparently edited the film for an R-rating, much to the dismay of Ferrara. I believe the European releases of the film were the director’s cut.

Best of 2015: Cinema

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With each passing year, my annual lists (which seem to mark the only time I have in a given year for writing “for fun” about film) become increasingly, unintentionally esoteric, purposefully defiant of any form of order, woefully incomplete, and predictably homoerotic. As each year comes to an end, I lament the films upon films I haven’t seen and frantically try to fit as many of those into my December schedule as possible. This year, I realized that my list was going to comprise of a bunch of films most people hadn’t heard of, no matter how many Oscar screeners I try to hustle through, and I accepted that. When I was in my early 20s, I would have marveled at a list of films only the most elite of cinephiles had even heard of, but these days, I just feel like an asshole.


These 10 films impressed me more than all the others. I’m slightly embarrassed that there isn’t a single film by a female filmmaker on the list, but I suppose I’d be more ashamed if I included one just for the sake of inclusion. Feel free to share your thoughts or possible suggestions (my to-see list is already epic). I’ve included distribution information for all of the films I could find it for (in the U.S., U.K., and France). And without further adieu, my 10 favorite films of 2015, listed alphabetically:





I also wrote about 10 additional films that left an impression on me, as well as the two films I hated the most in 2015: Jurassic World and The Overnight. Look for my 2015 television and music wrap-ups later this week.


Oh, and the most overrated film of 2015? Mad Max: Fury Road, which might have made my honorable mentions list had the world not praised it to high heaven and set my viewing up for disappointment. Alas.
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