Everybody who writes about movies dreads
making these lists, yet all of us want to readeach other’s lists. Partly
we’re looking for affirmation, partly we’re looking for ideas, and partly we’re
looking for guidance on how to approach this strange exercise in subjectivity
and perspective. I kept my movie-watching in 2013 to an almost human scale at
roughly 175 films, about half the number I typically watched in the days of
Salon’s “Beyond the Multiplex” column.
(I know plenty of people in and around the film business who watch 450 to 500,
or even more.) Even so, you wind up faced with ridiculous conundrums: How do I
decide whether a contentious French drama about a love affair between two young
women is better or worse than an absorbing and informative documentary set in
Tahrir Square? Can’t we say they’re both terrific, and leave it at that?
Sure we could, but that would be cheating. I
decided sit down one day in mid-December and make the list quickly, without
much deliberation. I don’t fiddle with it for weeks and I don’t try to make
guesses about historical importance or whatever; that won’t make me happier,
and the odds that I’ll look at it six months or a year from now and think I
screwed it up are pretty high in any case. Suffice it to say that what
everybody says about 2013 is true: It’s been an explosive year for movies in
general and especially for American cinema. We may be in the “post-theatrical”
age but movies continue to play surprisingly widely on the big screen, even as
more and more people watch them at home, on mobile devices or via brain
implants. (OK, that technology’s not quite ready, but just you wait.)
The 10 movies on this list all moved me,
challenged me, thrilled me and delighted me; I recommend them all without
hesitation. [. . .] 1. “Stories We Tell” 2. “12 Years a Slave” 3. “Inside Llewyn Davis” 4. “Ain’t Them
Bodies Saints” 5. “Blue Is the
Warmest Color” 6. “The Great Beauty” 7. “The Square” 8. “The Invisible
Woman” 9. “Her” 10. “The Wolf of Wall Street” (The10 best movies of 2013, Andrew O'hehir, Salon.com)
- - - - -
Douglas Moran
I'm trying to decide
if the fact that I've not only not seen any of these films but
have no interest in seeing any of them means: A) I'm a typical shallow,
middle-class American with middle-brow tastes; B) I don't get out often enough;
C) Andrew's taste is too highfalutin' for the likes of me; D) None of the
above.
One thing for sure:
I'm never going to watch the hugely-praised "12 Years a Slave",
which while I'm sure is an excellent film, I know will depress the living crap
out of me. Life is depressing enough; I don't need to pay money to see a
film and be artificially depressed. I know this makes me a plebe, but
jeez. (It reminds me very much of when the Glenn Close/John Malkovich
"Dangerous Liaisons" was released--I saw it based on the reviews, was
depressed as crap by it, and have never, ever wanted to see it again.)
—
Andrew O'Hehir
@Douglas Moran All of the above, Doug. I mean, the ordinary moviegoer
wants something different than a critic wants, and there's kind of no way
around that. I'm not going to pretend to be a populist, Gene
Shalit style, if it doesn't fit. I heard Vincent Canby talk about this years ago:
When you see 200+ movies a year, you become a specialist, and you're looking
for something you've never seen before. Whereas ordinary moviegoers, by and
large, want to see essentially what they've seen before, done well or with a
new twist, and with a familiar outcome. The audience for "12 Years a
Slave" is inherently much smaller than the audience for
"Gravity" or "The Hobbit," and even the audience for
"Wolf of Wall Street" (with stars and glamour but a somewhat
"unsatisfying" conclusion) is somewhat smaller.
—
Douglas Moran
@Andrew O'Hehir @Douglas
Moran In all
honesty, I have no idea how you can watch that many movies in a single year.
I have to imagine that it changes your perception, and have often thought
that "uniqueness" becomes far more of a sought-after quality for a
critic than "entertainment". So something that the great mass
of people will find entertaining, a huge percentage of critics will either roll
their eyes at or actively detest--"Sleepless in Seattle" or
"Love, Actually" being a couple of perfect examples of that.
Isn't there some quote about the familiar becoming detestable, or
something like that? When you see 40 romantic comedies in one year (most
bad), you've got to get burned out on them. Or so I've thought.
Of course, when one
goes to so few films in a particular year, one is pre-disposed to want to like
them. And then if you don't, it's even more disappointing. Such was
my reaction to "Elysium", which was one of the few films I made an
effort to see this year, and which was basically, "Meh". Which
pissed me off mightily; "I spend all this time, effort, and money, and all
I get is 'Meh'? I'm going to blog about this until my fingers fall
off!" Etc.
And ironically, when
one skips a film because of reviews and then sees it on DVD or whatever and it
turns out to be okay, you may end up liking it better. Such was the case
for me with "Oblivion", which got (at best) "Meh" reviews,
but which wasn't too bad. So long as I didn't spent the effort and time
of going to a theater to see it.
With critics, the
best one can do is find a critic who either provides enough information,
entertainment value, or shares your opinions closely enough so as to be useful
to you. So although we seen it demonstrated many times that your tastes
are wildly different from mine, you write informative and entertaining reviews
that provide enough data that allow me to make an informed decision. (I
felt the same with Charles Taylor, FWIW.) And given my knowledge of your
tastes, I know that I wouldn't enjoy "12 Years a Slave", no matter
how goddamn awesome it is in some absolute, Platonic Ideal of a Film way.
It would just depress me, anger me, make me cry or outraged or whatever,
and my blood pressure doesn't need that. So I skipped it.
But I won't stop
reading your reviews. Even when you call me a typical shallow,
middle-class American with middle-brow tastes. So there! :)
—
Emporium
@Douglas Moran @Andrew
O'Hehir This
was like something out of a Jane Austen novel.
The lord discusses aesthetic preferences
with one of the respected men in his nearby town—a pastor, an affluent farmer,
a doctor. The lord will be the master in this conversation, but he takes care
to give room for the town leader to imagine himself less afflicted than the
lord is, that his comparative ignorance and suspicion of change is a sign of
his being contented in settled, rich, bourgeois propriety.
So the town leader for a moment gets to
pretend he's master in this conversation, by tending to the lord's affliction
in a way that highlights his own contentment. Chest out, pleased in feeling a
proprietor — who, being a small master of the universe, is of course mostly
just going to indulge in daily contentment rather than jostling foreign novelty—
he then quickly lends the rest of his thought to acknowledging the real
superiority of the lord and the stultifying aspect of his perpetual
fixedness.
The lord has the refined intelligence
and awareness; the lord rightly has the authority to instruct.
And he, even if he harrumphs his way through the reviews, nevertheless still
listens. This doesn't make him a joke; he's still a battler. But deep
down he acknowledges his betters. In his middling
home set up so middlingly, on the table — even if mostly unread — is apt to be
the Times.
The town leader doesn't want the
authority of the lord. He feels comfortable in some place middling — the lords
keep the psychic terror "Krakens" at bay. But he likes that the
lord's preference for him owing to his being the ideal John Bull-type the
royalty can rely on, means he ranges his own grounds with that much more
righteous pomposity.
Here it means being an agent in the
comment sections, who may not be an O'hehir or a Taylor, but owing to their
concern to single him out in a friendly, acknowledging fashion, he's a warden
to everyone else.
For this empowerment, this
flattering divine touch, of course he's still reading his
reviews, however much he's thereafter openly begrudged. Mr Collins to Lady
Catherine de Bourgh, nothing ever will sink the truth benighted in this grand
moment of grace!
—
Douglas Moran
@Emporium @Douglas
Moran @Andrew O'Hehir So
if I parse this correctly (which is hard, honestly, given the length of your
analogy), I only read O'Hehir's reviews because he occasionally answers me with
courtesy and good humor in the comments section? Not because, as I said,
I find them informative enough to help me decide which movies to see, but
because he has shown me Noblesse Oblige? Is that what you're saying?
—
Emporium
@Douglas Moran @Emporium @Andrew
O'Hehir @Douglas Moran @Emporium @Andrew O'Hehir In
true gentry style, his courteous, good-humored reply had a lot of teaching in
it — which some might find plainly arrogant: critics pursue and are
entertained by novelty, something new and smart; ordinary people, by a
repeat of the same 'ol sack of shit. Under cover of the ostensible key
difference — number of movies watched — is being pushed a class difference,
a difference in quality of person.
To which you replied you're still not
going to see "12 years," even if God had placed all the wisdom of the
universe in it, if there's any risk of it spoiling your dinner. But you're
obliged to have had him visit, and ensure him you'll keep reading his reviews
to make sure you make an informed decision as to which film out there won't
depress, anger, outrage, or unsettle your blood pressure in any way.
With such self-mockery here, I gathered
you conceded that the films he likes are probably those anyone who has a larger
stake in the world probably ought to watch. The bumpkin was visited by a lord,
and afterwards felt contented and even thrilled.
So, yeah, I'm thinking noblesse
oblige.
—
Douglas Moran
@Emporium @Douglas
Moran @Andrew O'Hehir Ah, I see; thanks for clarifying.
I've got it now: You're a pompous, pretentious bore who
believes that, by reading a couple of posts by people you don't know
in any way whatsoever and of whose past interactions you have zero knowledge,
you nonetheless feel informed and wise enough to pass judgement
thereon. Got it.
That will save me
considerable time in the future should I happen upon another of your
comments; I'll simply skip over it and save myself the trouble of trying to
untwist your tortured syntax. Thanks; appreciate it.
And by the way, Pro
Tip: If you're going to use such over-boiled phrasing and grammar, you
might want to re-read your comments before pressing the "Post"
button. For example, I "assured" Andrew; I didn't
"ensure" him. Also, a single return after a
paragraph suffices. I'm sure on re-reading other edits will occur to
you, given your vast and superior knowledge of the written form.
—
Andrew
O'Hehir
@Douglas Moran I have to admit, this whole thing was hugely entertaining.
And one of my main reactions (to myself) was: Dude, no freakin' way is some guy
in the comments going to out-marxist-analysis me!
—
Douglas Moran
@Andrew O'Hehir @Douglas
Moran [laughter]
- - - - - - - - - -
Emporium
@Andrew O'Hehir @Douglas
Moran
When you see 200+ movies a year,
you become a specialist, and you're looking for something you've never seen
before. Whereas ordinary moviegoers, by and large, want to see essentially what
they've seen before, done well or with a new twist, and with a familiar
outcome.
This description of ordinary moviegoers would
seem to have nothing to do with how many movies they watch. Anyone who wants to
see what they've seen before with a familiar outcome, isn't going to seem to
naturally evolve into someone who prefers the new and different if they upped
their viewing habits. Rather than finally yearn to barf it up, then change it up, they'll eat their predictable bland plate of steak and
potatoes with the same insistent pleasure Homer Simpson would his one-billionth
donut.
That is, it's more honest to say that
even if the critic can only for some reason make it to ten rather than the two
hundred films they prefer or at least usually have to watch, they just naturally are people who take most
pleasure, not in the repetition of thrills, but in the piquant, the fresh, the
new. They're beyond repetition-compulsion; are more evolved than
middlebrow — and it's not owing to practice.
There certainly are critics that are
that. True leaders; better than the average dope, I mean. Still, there's a good
number I reckon unconsciously pick choices they can imagine leaving the mob in
a fit of frustration. Became the critic, to indulge the delight in stymying.
Critic film geeks.
Emporium/Patrick McEvoy-Halston
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