The Coveted Iron Ox of 2010

And now to close out talking about last year (unless I feel like it again) with what was easily the best film of 2010, Winter’s Bone.  In case you don’t know by now, and you may not since you’re stupid; Winter’s Bone is a film about the organized crime culture in the Ozark mountains.  The culture in question isn’t sensationalized.  This isn’t a gangster film.  If Dave Simon brought all the insight and skill he brought to bear on The Wire to crystal meth in the Midwest instead of the white powders on the East Coast; he might have had a story like this.

The premise is a 17 year old girl (Jennifer Lawrence), to whom it has fallen to raise her young brother and sister, is facing homelessness if her former meth cook father isn’t located.  He apparently skipped bond and put their home up as collateral.  The police cannot locate the man, though they have been trying in earnest.  When this matter is brought before the girl, she answers ,”I’ll find him.”

What follows is a descent into the crime world of the Ozarks.  The movie builds tension masterfully and will not let go.  As in every crime movie, since most characters are criminals, they are separated into those with a code and those who are animals.  Which is which isn’t easy to tell.

What I love most about this film is that it doesn’t ever stray from its own reality.  There’s no ghost in the machine.  There’s no cavalry.  Nobody is coming to help you.  Problems don’t have easy solutions and where there is no choice, often one must be carved in blood.  The solution to the problem may be more horrifying than the problem itself.

Deadwood fans will recognize John Hawkes as Teardrop the brother of the missing.  John couldn’t be playing a character more different than Sol Star this time.  He’s utterly believable as The Guy You Don’t Want to Fuck With.  And Jennifer Lawrence deserves all the praise she’s gotten for this film.

I loved this movie.  8 of 10.

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Black Swan, mostly

To start, it’s official.  Darren Arronofsky is a genius.  He’s made great movies before.  Requiem for a Dream was freakishly good and The Wrestler was simply amazing.  You might think I’m biased or predisposed to like an Arronofsky offering.  You might think I’m one of those fake asshat internet reviewers who plays favorites.  Well, I both like M. Night Shymalan and think Avatar: The Last Airbender was one of the best animated shows of the last 15 years.  And I HATED The Last Airbender.  There was some potential there (which actually made it more painful to watch), mostly in the supporting actors (except for the retard who played Soka); but an epic failure is still failure.  A steaming pile of shit doesn’t smell any better for being epic.  But I digress…

 

Anyway, though I’ve enjoyed his other work, Black Swan is hard evidence of Arronofsky’s genius.  I hate ballet.  I mean no disrespect to those gifted athlete/artists who dedicate their lives to it; nor to those who can appreciate it.  But I’ve never been able to appreciate people jumping around in costumes(says the former pro wrestling fan and current hypocrite).  When I say I hate ballet, I’m more recognizing a flaw in myself than mocking the art form.  I just have no appreciation for it.  It bores the living crap out of me.

 

So when I’m sitting on the very edge of my seat during a movie about ballet; THAT is a fucking achievement in storytelling.  I was utterly engrossed in a story about a prestigious New York ballet company’s production of Swan Lake and the struggle of a new headlining ballerina to get into her dual roles in the production.  ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT.

 

At its core, the film is about artistic interpretation and what an artist has to go through.  It’s much like The Wrestler in that sense.  The art forms are different and the tone of Black Swan is much darker; but at their core, both movies are about what people go through to express their art.  (yes, I used the word art to describe pro wrestling; its not the canvas its what’s on it, long live Sting!) In this ballet, specific feelings have to be conveyed through the dancer to the audience.  Natalie Portman is a ballerina who is called to convey, through her dancing, complex emotions that she (she’s basically been homeschooled and still lives with her mother) has never actually experienced.  Through her journey to imagine these emotions in order to express them on stage; her hold on reality begins to weaken.

 

Vincent Cassel is great as a (possibly insane) driven director and Mila Kunis co stars as 180 proof sex.

You will involuntarily attempt to cover your eyes at least once.

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The King’s Speech

A person who considers himself civilized ought to be able to admit when they are wrong.  When it comes to reacting to a piece of art (often a strong word in cinema but applicable just the same) it’s difficult to be flat wrong.  I had another article all written about the best films of 2010.  It was (I flatter myself) a sharply witted entry.  But my reaction to the film that took home the Oscar for best picture was just wrong.  There’s no other way to slice it.  I didn’t “get it”.

 

When I saw The King’s Speech, I had a very hard time giving a shit.  The actors in the film were all talented, and turned in their usual charming performance (especially Colin Firth who is always fun to watch no matter what craptastic adaptation of a musical he happens to be in).  The story itself, removed from the striding history that engulfs the characters is interesting in its own right; but I was unmoved.

 

I, as an arrogant American, don’t give a shit who’s king of what.  I barely respect my own president.  I mean, after all, he works for me.  So what the hell did I care if some rich asshole in the country Winston Churchill brought through WW2 had a stutter?  It’s really an indictment of the people listening to the stutterer that they can’t let go of the speaker’s difficulties talking and focus what is being said.  Even noticing a stutter is at worst in poor taste and at best an irrelevancy.  And if you are king, you are king whether you stutter or not.  And I also thought had this man not been born to his specific parents; nobody would give a rat’s ass.  All these thoughts kept me from simply enjoying the story which was not without its charm.  But, that’s on me.  I didn’t get it.

 

The thing is; the who, what, where, and why of this film don’t really matter.  That Colin Firth is the King of England is not important.  What is important is that the film is history’s window.  The filmmakers had diaries, correspondence, even birthday gifts exchanged between the teacher and his pupil.  This could have been a story about any two people.  This movie is literally like stepping through a photograph to another era.  It is looking through drawings on the cave wall and seeing the artist.  The story is of a teacher and a student and friends; and it’s real.  It’s a real window on two real people from an age (even though relatively recent) that haunts us.  It was an age where heroes and villains were larger than life and strode the earth like titans.

 

So yes, I missed the point.  I get it now.  While it’s not the best film of 2010; The King’s Speech is special.  The first time I saw it; I was unmoved.  Now, I can barely watch it without being moved.  To reach through a photograph and touch history is an achievement.

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