Movie Minutiae: 2018 In Retrospect

2018:

I’m still processing a lot that happened last year, so it’ll probably be a bit more time before I fully grasp what twenty eighteen meant to me on a larger scale. A lot happened, and the highs and lows were even more extreme than 2017 (I’d like to blame climate change/climate disorder in both the metaphorical and literal sense), but having recently transitioned out of the year, I’d say that overall it was more positive than anything else. For instance:

• I went to 6 weddings/wedding receptions (in and out of state) and got to witness several people I love vouch their love for one another.

• Two lovely and close friends and couples I know got engaged.

• I helped kill Moviepass by seeing “Black Panther” 9 times, “The Last Jedi” 8 times, and several others (#noshame #wakanda4evar) – and after Moviepass decided to rickroll on its promises, I discovered Sinemia and AMC Stubs A-list, all in which solidified my constant presence in movie theaters (before running numbers, it looks like I attended movie theaters approximately 40-60 times throughout the year).

• I started taking film classes at USC using my staff benefits, and very quickly discovered that it takes more discipline for me to stop working on film (aka sleep) than it is to get started. I also met some great people and professors who have supported and inspired me to continue.

• I had the privilege of attending the first “Women in Animation” symposium.

• Tazaki turned two years old!

• I got to visit Croatia and Australia, accumulating memories and travel points along the way.

That being said, I would also say that 2018 was an interesting year of thematic foils in cinema – that is, films that addressed the same topic, and had vastly different approaches and effects. This notion stemmed from a close friend (cc: 友利さん）who noted that two movies, “BlackKkKlansman” and “Sorry to Bother You,” both had black protagonists who navigated their worlds with a ‘white’ voice.

I would extend the idea of thematic foils to the following as well:

• Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse // Black Panther

• Vice // Fahrenheit 11-9

• If Beale Street Could Talk // Green Book

• Won’t You Be My Neighbor // Mary Poppins Returns

• Shoplifters // Burning

• Destroyer // You Were Never Really Here

• Museo // Can You Ever Forgive Me?

I also found several movies that engaged with non-chronological and non-linear storytelling. In some instances, the effect was obvious (e.g. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse) while it was less explicit in others (e.g. If Beale Street Could Talk).

Major regrets that I did not see in theaters include the following:

• Widows

• Blindspotting

• Hale County This Morning, This Evening

Once I develop better writing discipline, I’ll get into more details about these cinematic foils and ideas. For now, here are my top cinematic minutiae of 2018 – a list films that have a particular memory and emotion associated with them.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse - dir. Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman [14 Dec 2018]

"You're the best of all of us, Miles. You're on your way. Just keep going."

If Beale Street Could Talk - dir. Barry Jenkins [25 Dec 2018]

"When I was growing up, I was trying to make a connection between the life I saw and the life I lived. There are days when you wonder what your role is in this country, and what your future is in it. This is one of them. The thing that tormented me the most was the very thing that connected me to all the people who are alive. I’ll tell you a story if I may."

Vice - dir. Adam McKay [25 Dec 2018]

"I can feel your recriminations and your judgement. And I am fine with it... You chose me and I did what you asked."

Perfect Blue (20th Anniversary Re-Release) - dir. Satoshi Kon [10 Sep 2018]

"You're the one who needs to wake up."

Black Panther - dir. Ryan Coogler [16 Feb 2018]

"How do you think your ancestors got these? You think they paid a full price for it? Or did they take them like they took everything else?"

Shoplifters - dir. Kore-Eda Hirokazu [23 Nov 2018]

"If someone hits you and tells you they are doing it because they love you, they are a liar."

Burning - dir. Lee Chang-dong [26 Oct 2018]

"Do you know Bushmen in the Kalahari Desert, Africa It is said that Bushmen have two types of hungry people. Hungry English is hunger, Little hungry and great hungry. Little hungry people are physically hungry, The great hungry is a person who is hungry for survival. Why do we live, What is the significance of living? People who are always looking for these answers. This kind of person is really hungry, They called the great hungry."

Museo - dir. Alonso Ruizpalacios [14 Sep 2018]

"The men who did this are miserable bastards with no past or future."

Can You Ever Forgive Me? - dir. Marielle Heller [19 Oct 2018]

“I was so tempted to trip you, just now.”

“Wow, you’re ... a horrid cunt, Lee.”

“So are you, Jack.”

Deadpool 2 - dir. David Leitch [18 May 2018]

"What do you get when you take eight feet of chrome, one pinch of courage, a cup of good luck, a dab of racism, a splash of diabetes and a wheelbarrow full of stage 4 cancer? Answer: a family. See? I didn't lie on what kind of film this was. If there's anything you take away today, other than the need to Google "what the fuck is dubstep," it's that we all need to belong to someone."

Movie Minutiae: Notes on Top 10 Films

I revisit my top 5 and 10 films periodically, and sometimes I write notes like the following.

04 January 2019, 12:16PM PST

The top 5 didn’t shuffle too much from the last time I wrote some thoughts on film, with only a minor shuffle between “Paprika” and “The Tale of Princess Kaguya” from 3rd to 2nd and 2nd to 3rd, respectively.

“Mad Max: Fury Road” and “Inglourious Basterds” fell off the list because ultimately, I favored these movies for their editing as opposed to the overall effect. They both stand on my “Top 10 for Film Editing Inspiration” (maybe I’ll make a list later, if my psyche irks me enough) but they did not stand the test of time as films that really, truly reverberate with me.

There was definitely an interesting kerfuffle as to what would be in places 6-10 (these standings change the most at each assessment) and while “Minority Report,” “In the Kingdom of Dreams and Madness” and “Ratatouille” ultimately kept their places, there was ample room for ordering and re-ordering and re-re-ordering and re-re-re-ordering (and so forth...) ‘til there was some semblance of a (non)sensical list.

Indescript scribblings mirroring indecisive mullings

“The Host” and “Rashōmon” join the ranks as films that seem to resonate the most with me at this point in time.

The special mentions list – “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse”, “Black Panther”, and “Get Out” are unapologetically black films. It took awhile to parse down the special mentions list, and I found it interesting the all three films are centered around Black protagonists who, to a certain extent (some more than others) grapple with their own relationship to American racial politics and/or the post-19th to 20th century slavery and colonization African diaspora legacy. Special mentions are films that I considered very closely to be in top 10 but, for reasons I may not be able to articulate at the moment, did not quite but I still felt warranted a mention. This special mentions list is actually the most interesting I’ve had in a long while.

I am sad and disappointed that, out of my favorite films, only one is directed by a woman (Mami Sunada, who also directed my favorite documentary – maybe another list for “Favorite Documentaries” for another day is waiting).

I am also disappointed that most of these films are from 2002 and onwards, with only one film being from before with Akira Kurosawa’s “Rashōmon” from 1950.

Lastly, I am disappointed that my film preferences are still predominantly East Asian (Japanese, Hong Kong, Korean) and American (Hollywood and American Independent).

I hope with time, this will expand. (I am open to recommendations from anyone who is reading this.) As much as I love film, there’s still so much I don’t know much about, and ideally a year from today, my knowledge will have expanded beyond my current limitations that I’m disappointed with.

Notes on Top 10

#1: The Grandmaster [2013] - dir. Wong Kar-wai

Prior to the new year, I saw a number of posts about how 2018 was a terrible year that people were happy to throw away into a burning garbage dump — similar sentiments thrown at 2017.

Despite all of the current and ongoing tumultuousness, I still consider 2013 to be one of the most defining years of my life. It was easily one of my worst years, and easily one of the most important.

Heart break, economic instability, and workplace bullying consolidated into one giant slap in the face, resulting in me physically collapsing and being forced to take a few days off to recover. Additionally, two people I loved died unexpectedly: Roger Ebert, the man who cultivated my love in film and never once doubted me as a writer and filmmaker; and Bà Ngoại, my maternal grandmother who had survived two wars, experienced heart break of every kind, and always supported me throughout my adolescence and beyond.

All of this happened within 6 months.

“The Grandmaster” was the first movie I watched in theaters after my grandmother died. I accompanied Weinstein’s cut with a glass of whiskey, and cried for the first time after a week of feeling numb.

“The Grandmaster,” for whatever flaws it may hold, has continued to not only comfort me during the saddest and darkest of times, but has also helped me navigate times of uncertainty and instability.

It is flawed, grandiose, and arguably Kar-wai’s most commercial work.

I also learn continuously from it, flaws and strengths and all, and it has shaped my understanding and love of film, history, and how fiction can be more truthful than reality. Each character appears, disappears, re-emerges, and disappears again, imitating life as you may have it: the only constant is change.

Each character, with their own philosophy, stands out on their own, each a story waiting to unfold, and in some cases never revealed more than a whip of a blade.

Circumstances beyond each characters’ control shape them more than anything, and it is only through will, choice (some right, some wrong), and primarily luck that some characters persevere, and others return to the past.

While any character has the potential to be a grandmaster, only one emerges as a confluence of their will, the right choices, and unfounded luck.

C’est la vie.

That, among many other minutiae, is why it is highly unlikely that another movie will ever take its place as my #1.

#2: Paprika [2006] - dir. Satoshi Kon

How is it that Satoshi Kon was so prescient about society’s relationship with technology and personas, and by extension our projections of reality and fantasy?

“Paprika” is not a film that easily sits with one viewing. It is audiovisual fest, similar to a fantastical dream that one feels but has difficulty fully grasping without another viewing.

Fortunately, in the advent of records and media, subsequent viewings of “Paprika” are more than possible, and highly recommended.

“Paprika” is like a fervent, feverish dream, a dream that echoes truths about Japan’s sexism, codification of inferences/non-speak, toxic masculinity (figurative and literal), power dynamics, and projected versus actual love and personalities.

Kon has been one of my favorite animators of all time. I miss him still.

#3: The Tale of Princess Kaguya [2013] - dir. Isao Takahata

I was unsurprised to learn about Isao Takahata’s abusive tendencies and work environment upon his passing last year. Anyone familiar with brilliant minds and talent is also familiar with how that brilliance can be leveraged to excuse atrocious and abusive behavior.

Takahata’s rage against Japan very easily spread to those closest to him, and to what degree he justified this rage, perhaps I’ll never know.

What I do know is that in all of his anger, nothing shook me more than the anger he poured into creating “The Tale of Princess Kaguya,” a feat of Buddhism, beauty, joy, and a level of rage and despair that rises to challenge the level of rage and despair of his previous work, “Grave of the Fireflies.”

It is a tough question as to whether or not we can celebrate the work of an artist once it becomes that they were so abusive that their closest colleagues credit them for killing rising talent.

I think that, in a case against binaries, we can both celebrate and critique the work as it pertains to who its driving artist was.

In the case of Takahata, “The Tale of Princess Kaguya” is a perfect encapsulation of who he was: brilliant and brutal. Brutal, more so than brilliant.

#4: The Wind Rises [2013] - dir. Hayao Miyazaki

Did anyone truly believe Hayato Miyazaki would retire after “The Wind Rises?”

I certainly did, and that’s perhaps why I cried even more after finishing his fictional account of Jiro Horikoshi, the creator of the Japanese Zero during WWII.

I’ve been criticized for finding Miyazaki’s “The Wind Rises” moving given the fact that Horikoshi created an effective and efficient war machine — and, for those who know me, the critique weighs in on the hypocrisy given my stance on war and the military.

I understand the critique, and I understand the hypocrisy, if not the outright irony.

I’d like to believe that Miyazaki understands this critique, hypocrisy, and irony as well. (For those who wonder “how would you know Q?”, I invite you to Google his comments as to why he did not attend the 2002 Oscars to accept the Academy Award for Best Animation for “Spirited Away.”)

Was Horikoshi complicit in war? Was his seeming apolitical-ness a gross privilege? Was the Zero an engineering feat? Was this movie, in detailing the fascism of Imperial Japan, implicitly criticizing the current Abe regime’s continued attempt at historical revisionism?

I would like to argue yes, to all of the above. Because to be human is to be critiqued, hypocritical, and fundamentally ironic.

#5: Moonlight [2016] - dir. Barry Jenkins

How on earth are we ever deserving as someone like Barry Jenkins, especially in this day and age?

I ask myself that question every time I even think about Jenkins’ 2016 masterpiece, “Moonlight.”

I’ve only seen it once, and the moment I walked out of the theater, I knew it would be one of my top 5 favorite films.

As one of the quietest films I’ve ever seen, it is also one of the most powerful statements in cinema as it pertains to masculinity, blackness, queerness, and tenderness.

How does one linger on a gaze that says more than words can convey?

How does the omission of sound at a key moment elicit the key disconnect between trauma and bureaucracy?

How does touch transcend sexuality and into a need for love?

How does one reframe Miami as a landscape of poetry within the abandoned and discarded?

And how do you break boys into men without shattering their spirit, psyche, and very being?

These are all questions that “Moonlight” answers, and more.

#6: Minority Report [2002] - dir. Steven Spielberg

If you were already critical of me loving a movie like “The Wind Rises,” then I do hope you’re more than willing to give me hell for liking “Minority Report.”

Spielberg minimizes the more insidious nature of surveillance that is fundamentally flawed by opting out of actual critique acknowledging the power structures that underlie state enforcement. This cop out is further varnished by a slick Neo-noir cinematography that I have always admired, with specks of foreshadowing red indicating a “shit about to hit the fan” moments.

“Minority Report” is a classic Hollywood take on a Philip K. Dick novel that rudimentarily explores implications and then inexplicably ends without actually addressing the insidiousness of state-sponsored surveillance, incorrectly assuming that state surveillance will simply end on the basis of basic human decency, morality, and ethics (spoiler alert: it probably never will, because people are people).

Lastly, the film arguably glorifies the sleekness of said surveillance, what with its touch screens, looking glasses, automated cars that inspired a generation of iPhones, Oculi and Teslas. How does one dress up such a depressing notion, of a black mirror society in which we must gouge out our eyes in order to truly be free?

With all of this pessimistic analysis cultivated and grown for 17 years, I still hold “Minority Report” dearly in my heart because still, whenever I watch it, I find it worthwhile to watch while understanding how problematic the larger issues surrounding it are. It was, after all, the first movie that really got me thinking about what I was watching, and whether or not I should agree with everything said and implied.

This film taught me that things are not mutually exclusive: that you can explore ideas and still be enjoyable; that you watch something and understand how the implicit ideas are troubling; and that Tom Cruise will always be running.

#7: Ratatouille [2007] - dir. Brad Bird

I was an impressionable, nervous, and insecure 18-year-old about to embark into college when Bird’s “Ratatouille” came out.

I was especially unsure about what I wanted to do in life, as I had just had an existential crisis (yes, this is real) after realizing that, even if I became the best clinician possible, that the US healthcare system would force me to turn away patients who were too poor to afford health insurance.

So there I was, a lost 18-year-old, feeling like I had just thrown away 4 years of high school pre-med studying, and torn between continuing down healthcare or having a “oh fuck it all” and switching gears to film school.

Escaping into Pixar, I was engrossed in the Parisian adventures of Remy, an eccentric and misfit rat trying to break free of tradition by becoming a chef (an eccentricness and misfitedness that I heavily related to).

But what really did me in was Anton Ego’s speech at the end. To this day, I think he may have been a bit too hard on himself, but the sentiment still rings true 12 years later:

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new.”

“The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant.”

“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.”

#8: In the Kingdom of Dreams and Madness [2013] - dir. Mami Sunada

Mami Sunada accomplishes something quite striking in her documentary: she captures the existential pessimism of Hayao Miyazaki that, unless you read his interviews, would have easily eluded you. Because here’s the thing –

Miyazaki is a curmudgeon, a luddite, and a grump.

But most of all, he’s tired.

He’s tired of Abe, he’s tired of anime, he’s tired of consumerism, he’s tired of people trashing the environment, he’s tired of Japan, he’s tired of people, and he’s tired of life in general.

The only thing more tired than Miyazaki is, perhaps, a rotund white cat.

For all of Miyazaki’s curmudgeonry, Sunada manages to capture moments of sincere joy and tranquility, and more strikingly eases Miyazaki into admitting his own thoughts as unfiltered as possible by Japanese standards.

The ending scene, where Sunada holds the camera to capture the dichotomy between Miyazaki’s pessimism in contrast with the joy of pre-school children, is quite something.

#9: The Host [2006] - dir. Bong Joon-ho

Bong Joon-ho’s “The Host” is such an odd film.

I remember initial American reviewers were mixed, often citing that the movie was an inconsistent bag of emotions, and that traditional monsters don’t show the actual monster 10 minutes into the film.

They are correct on all counts, which is why this movie has stood the test of time for me.

What many American reviewers missed is that Joon-ho’s oddball monster movie is fundamentally about Korean-US international relations after the Korean War, especially with regards to American military presence within South Korea.

This evil exists because American scientists poured formaldehyde into the Han River, and through freak science, a monster is born. People are kidnapped and taken by this monster. Families are quarantined while they are grieving lost members. Old family drama inappropriately unfolds during times relegated for despair. The media and politicians lie.

Yet for awhile, the viewer wonders: is this monster truly evil? We have not seen it eat anyone. Perhaps it is not as horrific as it presents itself?

And that is part of the brilliance of Joon-ho’s film, because later he reaffirms that this monster is actually truly evil incarnate. It has already revealed itself to be evil – why was there any room for doubt?

But that is a fundamentally human mentality, because oftentimes evil is insidious and subtle, rarely revealing itself in broad daylight. Evil relishes in mystery before it kills, so it is understandable that we would find reason to doubt the monster actually kills people even though, in retrospect, the red flags were there.

I will reiterate that the media and politicians lie about the existence of the monster despite first person corroboration – a lie that they desperately work to maintain to the point of nearly performing a lobotomy on the protagonist who only wants to save his daughter from the monster.

The lie that the media and politicians stand by is a testament to society’s larger unwillingness to acknowledge evil when it flashes and smirks is grisly existence into our cornea, and the inherent farce and additional casualties caused when we are slow to respond and react for reasons the exclude morals, ethics, and humanity.

“The Host” is an odd monster movie because it exposes us to our own willingness to ignore evil until it unleashes more collateral than if we had simply admitted ourselves that something truly, unapologetically horrible had brazenly stuck its head in our doors.

Perhaps it’s something we can’t quite make eye contact with.

#10: Rashōmon [1950] - dir. Akira Kurosawa

A few weeks ago, a theology student pulled me aside and asked me what was the one question I wished I could ask my respective deity.

I told her:

“Why do people lie to themselves so they can sleep at night?”

“Rashōmon” addresses this same sentiment, and concludes on a profoundly depressing and stark note about the worser aspects of humanity.

For what are we but beings who will lie just enough to maintain our own narratives that may not align in the face of actual truth?

And if there is no narrator for actual truth, does truth matter?

Kurosawa rips apart the underlying aspects of Japanese society – and humanity at large – in which we will do whatever possible to preserve our own reputations, even if it means risking death, so long as we maintain our own dignity without admitting accountability.

Such is the farce of our own conditions sometimes, I suppose.

Special mentions

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse [2018] - dir. Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman

What a beautiful, radical film. I honestly can’t believe that last year we were blessed with not one, but two beautifully unapologetically black superhero films that addressed different aspects of the Black/African diaspora as a result of 19th and 20th century colonization and slavery.

“Spider-verse” is what I consider an exemplarily radical film since it looks explicitly focuses on the modern demographic of Brooklyn while decentralizing (fridging) Peter Parker with the fundamental idea that anyone – yes, anyone, no matter what you look like, no matter your abilities are – can be heroic. It is as diverse as it is inclusive.

An extra shout out to the positive and supporting male role models. (I am convinced that Mahershala Ali should be in every film at this point.)

And goodness, what a radical breakthrough in animation. I’m sure Satoshi Kon would be proud of the climax. And what a soundtrack.

Black Panther [2018] - dir. Ryan Coogler

I watched this film nine times in theaters (yes, I am the person who helped run MoviePass into the ground and I don’t care) because it is a film that helped me get through some rough patches early last year primarily because of its female characters.

T’Challa is likeable, but Okoye is a whole different level for me: she has been a role model of sorts for me, in many different iterations. (Also, the rhino likes her more.)

And what a soundtrack to match such a cinematography.

Get Out [2017] - dir. Jordan Peele

Jordan Peele’s breakout horror still shakes me to this day, if not even more. It’s one of those films that, with time and age, only further sinks down into how horrific the circumstances that surround the non-white characters.

(Anyone that thinks that it qualifies as a comedy is, quite frankly, missing the fucking point. For fucks sake, this shit is horrific – why the hell would anyone laugh except for some kind of relief from tension?)

Movie Minutiae: Associative Memories of 2017

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"

Movie Minutiae: Notes on Top 10 Films

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.

pastelmurder:

Miyazaki-san talking about Jiji not being able to speak at the end of Kiki’s Delivery Service

-The Kingdoms of Dreams and Madness