2017: a year of ups and downs, a roller coaster designed by an architect who clearly never experienced vertigo.
For such a tumultuous time frame of figurative and literal fires, seeking refuge and comfort in the cinema became a normal foray of escapism. Add with the advent of MoviePass (thanks to a friend for fueling my addiction!), movie theaters quickly became secondary homes.
Below are personal favorites without adequate description for lack of adequate time. I’m fully aware of how problematic and/or flawed some of these are; they are listed here because I saw them at distinct moments in my life at the time.
Which is to say: each of these movies has an attached and associative memory, most of which are indirectly related to the movies themselves. I’m only including a snippet to each movie to indicate why they’re on the list.
1. Coco - dir. Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina
"Omg you need to go see Coco. It's sooo good. Cried my tears out. Reminded me so much of you."
2. The Last Jedi - dir. Rian Johnson
"Look, Certain Subset of Star Wars fans: Star Wars is about the same stuff it was when you were a kid. It's not the franchise's fault you grew up to join the Epmpire."
3. Blade Runner 2049 - dir. Denis Villeneuve
"The most awful thing the world has done to K is to put him on a spectrum where he’s defined as less than human. The world defines so many of us that way every day. It shouldn’t matter. But it does. Because there’s institutional power behind it. Because there’s violence behind it. Because when the world tells you day in and day out that you’re worth less, it’s hard not to start believing it sometimes."
4. Logan - dir. James Mangold
"I think we should watch 'Logan' on Thursday though. Will you be free enough to squish with me?"
5. Paddington 2 - dir. Paul King
"btw: I saw a movie called "Paddington 2" on Saturday. It was like getting the most comforting hug you could ask for" "Q is really into creepy animals"
I revisit my top 5 and 10 films periodically, and sometimes I write notes like the following.
29 August 2017, 8:00am PDT
It’s interesting to see what has fallen off since I first wrote a note back in March. Unsurprisingly, “The Dark Knight” fell off first – as I’ve learned more over the years, Christopher Nolan has become less and less appealing in that he is a remarkable technician with little to no ideology (save a rare stance in “The Prestige”) – as well as “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “Beauty and the Beast.”
“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” fell off because after re-watching it, I realized that Joel is an abusive shit ass to Clementine, and I wasn’t having any of it.
“Beauty and the Beast” was replaced by “Ratatouille” after I remembered how much more influential Bird’s culinary classic was in shaping my sense of film criticism, as well as inspiring me to pursue filmmaking despite actual and perceived barriers.
“Inglourious Basterds” came into top 10 (to be honest, I’m not sure why it wasn’t in my initial list; maybe forgetfulness?) because Christoph Waltz’s venomous and alluring portrayal of a polite Nazi is haunting. Sally Menke’s editorial decisions make this film stand out for me in more ways than one (e.g. reimagining and reengagement with history and the implications of such pursuits), and most notably the scenes between Shoshanna and Frederick as they seemingly come off as ‘meet cute’ but are clearly underlined with severe issues of power dynamics (e.g. racism, militarism, patriarchal entitlement, etc.)
My top 10 films – with two honorary mentions that are basically “honorary number 10s” - are films that resonate with me for reasons related to filmmaking (philosophical and technical) and personally. These are the films that I will rewatch and learn something with each subsequent viewing.
#1: The Grandmaster [2013] - dir. Wong Kar-wai: I doubt this will leave my #1 spot for the next few years, if ever. The Grandmaster not only accomplishes philosophical and technical feats that have hugely influenced me as a filmmaker and individual, but it also holds a special place in my memory – specifically, the time, space, and circumstances under which I saw it alone in the Sundance Kabuki Theater in San Francisco.
#2: The Tale of Princess Kaguya [2013] - dir. Isao Takahata: Takahata’s watercolor dreamscape doesn’t detract from his obvious anger at how society and sexism can render the most pure-hearted, beautifully enthusiastic child into depression and entrapment. A beautifully and personally haunting film that never fails to wreck me at the end of each viewing (see: bawling).
#3: Paprika [2006] - dir. Satoshi Kon: Over the years, it’s become more and more obvious how utterly perfect of a film “Paprika” is: its explorations of personas, of perceptions, of power, of personalities, and of psyche – really, everything about it becomes more and more profound over the years. Atsuko’s struggle of accepting her own desires in contrast to societal barriers (see: sexism, misogyny) is something that’s become more and more pronounced over the years.
#4: The Wind Rises [2013] - dir. Hayao Miyazaki: Miyazaki’s film highlights the crux of his philosophical struggle: pursuing dreams, and the curse that comes with them. The titular character, Jiro Horikoshi, grapples with his own genius and the ensuing responsibilities that come in creating a machine of death – a beautiful machine, but a machine of death nonetheless.
#5: Moonlight [2016] - dir. Barry Jenkins: Like I mentioned in my previous note, I’m unsurprised that Jenkins’ masterpiece knocked “Minority Report” from top five. I’ve only seen this film once, and even then I know it’s nothing short of a masterpiece. Every note, every beat, every scene is perfect; it’s only an added bonus that Jenkins drew heavily from one of my favorite directors, Wong Kar-wai.
#6: Minority Report [2002] - dir. Steven Spielberg: This film is one of the most influential movies that made me consider the intersection of entertainment and implications that science fiction can explore (Tom Cruis notwisthanding). Janusz Kaminski’s cinematography work is something I frequently refer back to whenever I’m in an inspirational rut; the neo noir shots are truly something to behold.
#7: Inglourious Basterds [2009] - dir. Quentin Tarantino, edited by Sally Menke: Honestly, I don’t know why this didn’t make my original top 10 list. Waltz’s polite Nazi mannerisms and Menke’s attention to detail in underlying the inherent power dynamic that Shoshanna faces while dealing with a persistent Frederick are more than enough to propel Tarantino’s WWII romp into what I consider an extremely influential film. (Also, strudel.)
#8: Mad Max: Fury Road [2015] - dir. George Miller, edited by Margaret Sixel: This is effectively a nonstop car chase that is an amazing technical feat, much in thanks to Sixel’s editing. Theron’s performance as the steely Furiosa is one that I turn to whenever I’m having an extremely bad day (read: it’s dick stomping time).
#9: Ratatouille [2007] - dir. Brad Bird: I saw this movie right before beginning my undergrad, and Anton Ego’s final speech – “not everyone can be a chef, but a great chef can come from anywhere” – was a much needed moment during a time of uncertainty. I was struggling to find an intersection between my love of film and humanitarian work, as well as the barriers (institutional, financial, and perceived) that barred me from more seriously pursuing film. Bird’s culinary crusade is both heartwarming – Patton Oswalt’s Remy is adorable as they come – and heavily critical of the necessary and tumultuous relationship between creator and critic.
#10: In the Kingdom of Dreams and Madness [2013] - dir. Mami Sunada: I’ve watched this documentary once, and it has haunted me for months. Sunada’s attention to detail and ability to capture Miyazaki’s working ethos is something of a feat – the director is notoriously tight lipped, and to see how beautifully she interviewed and documented him as a phenomenal and flawed human being is inspiring and heartbreaking.
Honorary Mentions
Memories of Murder [2003] - dir. Bong Joon-ho: Bong Joon-ho is is one of my all-time favorite directors, and “Memories of Murder” is remarkable in how unbelievably grim and depressing it is. Joon-ho’s long takes and willingness to divulge in humor shape the film into an unbearably grim film. “Memories of Murder” is a narrative and technical feat, and it is unbelievably draining to watch.
Happy Together [1997] - dir. Wong Kar-wai: I suspect that this film will remain an honorary top 10 for a very long time given its understanding of how cyclical and alluring abusive relationships can be, as well as the dreary sense of isolation that comes with being an immigrant. It ends on a heart lifting moment where the protagonist breaks away from abuse through the inspiration and support from Chang, a truly kind and considerate individual, who runs contrary to his abusive, explosive and alluring ex-boyfriend. It is a film that understands abuse, and offers a glimmer of hope for those looking to escape it.
I revisit my top 5 and 10 films periodically, and sometimes I write notes like the following.
27 Mar 2017 @ 07:49, PST
#1: “The Grandmaster,” Wong Kar Wai (2013)
#2: “The Wind Rises,” Hayao Miyazaki (2013)
#3: “The Tale of Princess Kaguya,” Isao Takahata (2013)
#4: “Paprika,” Satoshi Kon (2006)
#5: “Minority Report,” Steven Spielberg (2002)*
#6: “Moonlight,” Barry Jenkins (2016)*
#7: “Beauty and the Beast,” Howard Ashman** (1991)
#8: “Mad Max: Fury Road,” George Miller, Margaret Sixel** (2015)
#9: “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” Michel Gondry (2004)
#10: “The Dark Knight,” Christopher Nolan (2008)
*Note #1:It was incredibly difficult to put Jenkins’ “Moonlight” at #6 because, for all unequivocable sakes and purposes, “Minority Report” is an inferior film by at least tenfold. However, I’ve reserved my top five films for films that have impacted my filmmaking ethos and philosophy is a distinct, discernible way, as well as raising questions -- be it ethical, political, social, etc. -- that I may not necessarily agree with, if not outright oppose.
Also, as ‘childish’ as this may seem: I often revisit my top 5 and 10 films at least once a year, if not more so on any given occasion, because
a) I find them enjoyable (the feeling without necessarily thinking part), and
b) I’m always learning something new with each subsequent viewing.
“Minority Report” is a personally significant film because it was one of my earliest memories in realizing that film was a medium that could explore implications and ideas while adhering to gripping and interesting narratives. (I also love procedurals, which makes sense since I spent many years in the pre-medical track before segmenting off into a different, complementary field -- see: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.) Additionally, Janusz Kamiński’s cinematography in this film never fails to take my breath away.
Since lists are always subjective, in my mind “Moonlight” and “Minority Report” are inherently in my personal top 5 list, so I’ve only listed “Minority Report” in the chronological #5 by chronological succession of their release. I suspect that over time, as the poetry and mastery of “Moonlight” continues to seep into my subconscious, it will easily kick out “Minority Report” into #5 for the rest of my life -- the question, really, is how long that will take. (As of today, I’m giving it a year.)
**Note #2:These individuals are not (in strictest terms) the primary director of the film in question. However, I’ve listed them here because I feel that their contributions are what made the film in question the way it is -- which is to say, they are the heart and soul of why this movie works for me.
Howard Ashman: He was a genius lyricists who embedded spunk into a bibliophilic protagonist, internal conflictions of a ‘beast’ in appearance, and the subtle yet malicious underpinnings of how chauvinism and patriarchy transform a pompous buffoon into an actual monster. Ahistorical hipsters currently going on about how “Beauty and the Beast” is an ‘anti-feminist movie that shouldn’t be celebrated’ would do themselves a favor in further exploring:
1) The original context of which the French fairy tale was conceived, as it was both an examination of arranged marriages and finding ways to cope within the context of a patriarchal society, and
2) To watch the 1946 French film, “La Belle et la Bête” (directed by Jean Cocteau) which added to the original cannon and has the original character that inspired Disney’s Gaston, Avenant.
No lyricist in the Disney Renaissance of the Animation from 1989 to 1999 ever came close to capturing the creativity and clever underpinnings of Ashman’s captivating overtures and haunting ballads of wishes, desires, and longing for a place in what can be a largely unforgiving world to those who do not fall into place. In remembering that Ashman was also a gay man who died as a result of Reagan era domestic policies and died eight months prior to the film’s release, the songs of “Beauty and the Beast” take on an additional weight, melancholy and depth.
Margaret Sixel: Hollywood seems to have forgotten how to properly frame and edit and action sequence since the early 2000s (or, dare I say, even before then) in favor of seeking verisimilitude at best, or valuing quantity of ‘tried and true(ly bad)’ action formulas for the ‘tried and true(ly abysmal)’ middling ground of mediocrity.
“Mad Max: Fury Road” comes together from over 400+ hours of raw footage because of the attentive editing eye of Margaret Sixel: her attention to detail notwithstanding, Sixel astutely refused to fall in line with Hollywood ‘verisimilitude’ and instead opted for visual cohesion in line with what director George Miller strived for -- to create a film that could be understood without subtitles.
Sixel’s background in documentary filmmaking is not only an asset in her understanding of visual cohesion, but arguably the main reason why she understands the invisible fiction of editing. From double to quintuple takes, strategic slow motions and quiet moments during an assault of steampunk battle machines, as well as the beautifully unforgiving desert landscape so ravaged by toxic masculinity that pixels of blue and teal become visual diamonds, Sixel transformed what could have otherwise been standard action fare into a seamless, metal infused movie. (Oh, what a lovely day!)
The speech was not without some problematic elements – what,
for instance, is considered “art” within the paradigm of Western culture as
opposed to the rest of the world and not (MMA within the United States versus
Hong Kong cinema), which is not entirely out of line with Ms. Streep’s speckled
resume of ahistorical interpretations of race relations and power dynamics – but
at its very core, the speech was noteworthy not only for its advocacy of free
press, good journalism, and human decency, but also because it hit a note that
many seemed to miss:
Demagoguery is performative.
It was no accident that Streep focused in on Trump’s
mockery of a journalist with a disability – there were many other instances of
his bigotry that she could have focused on – because at the very heart of that
moment, he was performing for a crowd.
A performance needs an audience.
In the case of Mr. Kovaleski being targeted, the performance
drew mockery, jeer, and debauchery. The performance in question was successful
in arousing some of the worse guttural instincts of a crowd that revels in a
severe lack of empathy, and even more successful because it was circulated
through news and cascaded into further marked outrage or dehumanizing
validation.
Demagogues thrive under any reaction.
Streep, among many of the best actors, understands that
reaction is centerfold to how effective any performance is, and she correctly
zeroed in who Trump is:
He is Hollywood, and he is a performer – and Hollywood will
never accept his performance, no matter how successful he arouses the basest of
emotions.
It was a brilliant and humane craftsmanship of speech
writing.
In these next four years, it will be even more important to
consider the performative nature of demagoguery that comes with an individual
defined by narcissism and a delusionary reality of alternative facts: we must
understand that such a performance is designed to instigate the worse of
instincts, to rile up bigotry, to gaslight one’s sense of reality, to shift
blame and accountability against the unsuspecting, to ultimately manipulate.
Streep understood this, and hit back – hard.
Everyone should be taking note of her rallying cry,
especially as we navigate a White House dominated solely by narcissism that,
amongst many other forms reminiscent of autocracies, aims control of the media
narrative.
Demagogues do not forego their public performance of abuse
because morality and ethics do not bely their conscious. Given that he has
employed Steve Bannon– former editor of the 21st Century version of
“alternative facts” (read: lies) for the “alternative right” (read: white
supremacists; Nazis; misogynists) outlet, “Breibart” – as one of his top
strategic advisors, it will be even more imperative to stay on target in
following and covering the political reality show as it unfolds.
The ensuing story of this country’s politics will not adhere
to human decency: Bannon understands this, and will continue to guide Trump in
this manner because traditional American media does not know how to cover a man
so publicly and proudly devoid of such.
The next four years (dare I even suggest eight?) will be a constant stream of
performative demagoguery, a performance that designed to derange and derail
public attention from the more insidious underpinnings of legislative
undermining and redesign to render the most powerful even more powerful, and
the most vulnerable even more vulnerable to the point of nonexistence. We have
already seen it with the rising advent of Richard Spencer and hate crimes since
that fateful election day, as well as the advent of blatant, baseless lies.
We must continue to be vigilant as to how the performance
and lies of a demagogue point not to the truth, but to the intended effect of
their words: that is, when someone claims that “millions of illegals voted,” do
not waste your attention on refuting and providing facts, but remember that
they do not care, and that such a lie is a proclamation of intent – “millions
of people did not vote for me, and I intend to make voting even more difficult
because of that.”
They have already done it before with voting rights restrictions as recently as last year, and they will continue to do so.
Do not accept such a performance, and do not lose sight of
the mechanisms and intent behind a performance.
Streep understood this, which is why her speech was
particularly powerful.
She refused to accept this performance, and rightfully
advocated for continued free and investigative journalism that runs counter to
an Orweillian possibility of an unrelenting propaganda of “alternative facts”
from the “alternative right.” She focused in what was actually happening behind
the performance, rightfully deemed it demagoguery, and rejected it.
Hollywood followed in suit, and we must too.
Rejecting performative demagoguery will be core to our own
sanity and survival, especially since truly terrible, terrifying forces are
puppeteering the whole orchestration.
Do not accept the demagogue’s performance, anticipate the
intents of its puppeteers, and do everything you can to protect their intended
targets.
It seems apt that, as I finish writing this, Ms. Streep just
received her 20th Oscar nomination. Congratulations Meryl – for
rejecting a demagogue on all of our behalf, for advocating and rallying for the
free press, and for breaking your own award record in the process.
On Friday, I received an email from a reader that stumbled onto my Tumblr blog post inquiring about what I meant about “resisting distinctly as an artist.”
I sent them the following email to elaborate (with minor omissions specific to what the reader shared privately):
…
Regarding what I meant by “resisting distinctly as an artist”: it’s a loaded statement ripe for interpreting as you see fit and appropriate for your own circumstances. That being said, I hope these points will help you find your own means of resistance as an artist:
When creativity and creation are seen as assets to be commodified into economics – create anything and everything that is in direct opposition to economics. For instance, in Hollywood, if creativity and creation mean that whiteness is the centerfold of a story – create a world and story in which whiteness is not the centerfold of a story.
Understanding the politics of your identity is key to usurping pivots of power. Within the context of America, the pivots of power are currently white supremacy and patriarchy: if you are a heteronormative white cis-male in America, you are allotted societal privilege to behave and engage in a spectrum of human experiences and emotions without the restrictions of assumed categories; compare this to the larger narrative of what how most Americans perceive African American women (see: welfare queens, angry black woman, etc.)
In understanding the politics of your identity and how it falls within the spectrum of your circumstances, you can work actively against that as an artist in what you choose to create. Drawing from the previous example: within the American pivot of power: creating an artistic endeavor that imagines African American women as free agents of their own destiny and desire – distinctly juxtaposed to the current narrative of ‘welfare queens’ – is an act of defiance against the assumed underlying power dynamic that ‘only white cis-male individuals are able to achieve certain degrees of human accomplishment.’ Or, to paraphrase Mindy Kaling: “I have a personality defect where I refuse to see myself as an underdog because I was raised with the entitlement of a tall, blond, white man.”
Boiling it all down:
Understanding current limitations and boundaries of imagination and reality helps us create works of art that undermine those limitations and boundaries: as artists, we can imagine worlds beyond the paradigms of what is currently assumed and normal.
Dare to imagine something beyond what is considered the norm and assumed, and be mindful in how you approach your imagination. What are the implications of creating something new, or inspired by something prior? Are you appropriating something, or are you paying due homage? What norms and assumptions are you challenging in your creation?
Disregard what is seen as ‘profitable’ and consider what is moral and ethical.
Speaking for myself, I am a filmmaker foremost, and everything else in my life is secondary and informative of how I approach filmmaking. I don’t limit myself only to the spectrum of cinema – my participation and engagement with life helps me understand larger implications beyond my own individual experience, how my experience is consequently informed, and how I can consequently challenge larger systems in place. It’s a circular system of analysis, deconstruction, and construction of something different, if not entirely new – just like jazz. (For more on this, I highly recommend watching this video essay on Chuck Jones’ development as an artist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHpXle4NqWI)
Artists have the power to question power indirectly while having profoundly direct impacts on the minds of those who experience our work. It’s why the phrase “it’s just a book” and different iterations of such are so, so false: the jester in “King Lear” understood this with regards to comedy, and likewise Hitler understood this with regards to the power of xenophobia in Mein Kamf.
Some last notes:
When it comes to art – nothing angers oppressors more than being out done by anyone they aim to oppress. Oppressors aim to stifle progress and creativity because they themselves are fundamentally incapable of imagining and inventing a better world than what is currently the status quo. So as an artist, creating art that is better than what an oppressor can conjure up is one of the greatest forms of resistance because an oppressor can never, ever replicate true talent and sincerity. (See: Trump’s replica of Obama’ inauguration cake.)
Existing is an act of resistance – never forget that.
