The MacGuffin

One of the surprises of the 2012 Academy Awards was the nomination of a Spanish film called Chico & Rita (2010) for Best Animated Feature. I’m assuming that not many people have heard of this film, but they should. It is a vibrant, colorful love story that borders near perfection in its music, animation, and narrative skill. Directed by the trio of Tono Errando, Javier Mariscal, and Fernando Trueba, the film does not necessarily push the boundaries of animation, and because of that must rely more on its characterizations and ability to tell an engaging tale—and it does so in the best way possible. Filled from beginning to end with rhythmic Latin beats and cool emotional jazz, the film is very much a melodrama. But don’t let that deter you; yes, the story here is melodramatic, but in the sweetest way possible. We fall in love with the characters just as easily as they fall in love with each other.

Do you play video games, in particular first-person shooters? These include games such as Call of Duty, Battlefield, Halo, so on and so forth? I ask this because the connections between those kinds of games and the latest film Act of Valor (2012) had been swirling around by the time I got to view it. The similar traits are clear: military and armed forces deep in the middle of special operations, where men do courageous things in the midst of intense battle. I understand what directors Mike McCoy and Scott Waugh (along with writer Kurt Johnstad) wanted to do: present these individuals and come as close as they possibly could to reenacting missions that have happened in real life (an opening title screen says as much). However, while there is much to admire, from their intentions to the very people they put on screen, the film falters from a number of cinematic missteps, resulting in a film that feels all too much like an episodic, real-life version of a video game.

Steve James, the filmmaker who made one of the best American documentaries in Hoop Dreams (1994), has returned with yet another great, fascinating, and engaging film in The Interrupters (2011). This time, his story deals with urban and gang violence among the youth in Chicago neighborhoods, so prominent that it has recently received nationwide attention. In a way, this film is more urgent than his previous one, as the lives involved struggle every day just to survive. It’s a heartwrenching tale of a few brave souls who take it upon themselves to step deep into this world—a world that so many have chosen to turn away from—and do what they can to prevent further tragedy from happening. We get a glimpse into what life is like for these young individuals, we learn names and stories of those that would normally be represented only by statistics. And because of that, James has made a film that every single person should see.

In the trailer of Oren Moverman’s latest film, Rampart (2011), a quote says that “Woody Harrelson is the most corrupt cop you’ve ever seen on screen.” I would guess that that statement is fairly accurate. The character Harrelson plays, L.A. police officer Dave Brown, is not a good man. Heck, he’s not even a descent man. Brown is a down and dirty son of a gun in the worst way possible. He’s a hateful, misogynistic, egocentric, adulterous drunk who does whatever he wants, all the while hiding behind the protection of his badge and the power of his gun. When it comes to cinematic anti-heroes, you can’t get much worse than this guy. I usually like protagonists that tiptoe that moral line, who do questionable things as a means to an end. It’s much more interesting to see a person who has faults and eccentricities; it makes their journey much more fascinating to watch and analyze. So why exactly didn’t that work for me here?

There are some films that have become so familiar to us that watching them again feels a bit like coming home. We know the characters, we know the sequences, and sometimes we can even say the lines of dialogue before they come. They are so a part of who we are that we associate the film with our own upbringing. That’s how I feel every time I see Robert Zemeckis’s (1985). One of the essential films of the 1980s, I feel that it’s safe to say that just about everyone knows and has seen it, and for some of us, couldn’t fathom what growing up would be like without it. It does everything that you can expect out of pure entertainment—with names, places, and images that have lasted in contemporary popular culture. I’ve become so familiar with the film that I can’t remember the first time ever seeing it.

Here’s what I’ve been watching recently:

The opening shot is as striking as any you’ll see. Up high in the Peruvian mountains, amongst the clouds and mist, a line of soldiers, animals, and workers snake their way down a steep path. While the shot is taken from a distance, it’s clear that this moment is not manipulated at any point—those are real people steadily going through the dangerous cliffs of the rock side, with the green canyon thousands of feet below. This is just one of the many haunting images that populate Werner Herzog’s daring and ambitious examination of human nature, (1972). It’s a film that examines the depths to which obsession can take a person, created by a man who has made a career out of his obsession for the cinema. There are some filmmakers who do the work as a job, others because they simply enjoy it. Herzog does it because it is ingrained in his very being.

Sometimes, the beauty of smaller or independent films is that they are populated by characters that feel more tangible than those of big Hollywood films. The achievement of Dee Rees’s film Pariah (2012) is through the believability of its main character. Adepero Oduye, who plays Alike (Ah-Lee-Kay), is so tender and sincere with her performance that it seems as though she were picked up right off the streets and placed in front of the camera. She is so natural here, never gesturing towards the audience or making it known that what we are watching is an “act.” Instead, she breathes and lives her character with an element of truth; not at any moment did I feel any kind of falsehood. Too many lesser actors would strain—trying too hard to gain an effect from the viewer. Oduye doesn’t do that with Alike, she just…is.

With 2011 officially in the books, it’s time once again to look back and reflect on some of the best films that have come out in the past year. As with all movie writers, coming up with a list like this is usually expected, but also damn near impossible. To me, reading and writing these types of articles are only beneficial in spreading word about titles that really had an effect on me, while stirring up debate between those who strongly agree with my choices, or vehemently disagree. No one list is ever truly definitive; what is considered great to one may not register the same way to another. The only real truth is that 2011 had a wide range of very interesting and fascinating films, and just like every year, there’s always a good handful worth noting.

No other genre evokes a sense of place better than the western. You have vast rolling hills, expansive barren deserts, horses, hats and pistols, and sleepy towns where sheriffs and robbers shoot it out to the death. It’s a world long since passed, where those with gold and guns dictated the law. What I find so fascinating about westerns is that they are a representation of a place that once was—with people who perhaps lived lives that were similar to the ones we read about in folk stories, or watch in the movies. Survival and the hope of prosperity drove people toward these places, and motivated those who wanted to steal their way to a better life. There are a handful of great movies set in the Wild West, but very few have reached the plateau of Sergio Leone’s epic, (1966).