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Best Films of the '90s
PART I
Ari
Eyes Wide Shut (Stanley Kubrick) -
The last film by the great Stanley Kubrick is one of his best, easily the most challenging, thought-provoking and emotionally complex drama of the decade. By revisiting themes of sexual obsession, Kubrick created a haunting dream of jealousy, inadequacy and instability, exploring the complexities of a relationship that’s supposedly happy and secure, but in fact is something far edgier and fragile. Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman are exceptional as the two leads, each bringing the necessary depth for their extremely difficult roles. Eyes Wide Shut is another example of Kubrick’s visual mastery, with sharp, contrasting tones of orange and blue that perfectly capture the nightmarish extremes of the atmospheric story. The film is disturbing, fascinating and at times surprisingly amusing (the sequence with Mr. Milich in particular). No film from the '90s demands as much repeat viewing, and no film from the '90s improves so profoundly each time. The only flaw is the completely unnecessary digital advancements that the studio included during the infamous orgy sequence. This was done to prevent the film from receiving the dreaded NC-17 rating, something that Kubrick would’ve most likely embraced. Either way, Eyes Wide Shut is still a masterwork from one of the great filmmakers.
The Thin Red Line (Terrence Malick) - Malick’s philosophical World War II epic divides audiences like few movies. While The Thin Red Line isn’t the most accessible of films, the level of artistry on display is highly sophisticated. Malick’s vision is so vast and ambitious that I find myself awed by the film each time I watch it. Poetic and beautiful at the same time it’s horrific and brutal, The Thin Red Line examines the cruelty and futility of war along with the psychological torment of the soldiers involved. Malick presents the collective voice of the men, switching perspectives to explore the larger picture of what it means to survive through such chaos. As with all of his work, the imagery does as much explaining as the dialogue. The sweeping cinematography is incredible - lingering on nature’s beauty long enough for us to realize how destructive we are to the world we inhabit. Along with the powerful score by Hans Zimmer (his best), the film builds its dramatic tension expertly. Elias Koteas and Nick Nolte give the best performances among one of the best ensembles of recent years.
Kundun (Martin Scorsese) - While Goodfellas is undoubtedly Scorsese’s greatest triumph of the 90s, I decided to focus on what I feel is his most underrated film of the decade, the mesmerizing and beautiful spiritual epic Kundun. Religious conflict is a theme well explored by Scorsese over the course of his career. It can be found in his crime films (Mean Streets) or more directly in epics like The Last Temptation of Christ. With Kundun, Scorsese delves into a completely different religion and culture from his own, but he brings the emotional and thematic depth needed to fully grasp the complexity of the story. This is because Scorsese understands the spiritual dilemma, whether it’s Christian or Buddhist or whatever. In the end it all comes down to belief and practice and morality, and Scorsese and writer Melissa Mathison brilliantly weave these issues together with this film. While Kundun isn’t as naked or revealing as Last Temptation of Christ, it still feels very personal to Scorsese’s interests and passions. There’s a deeply beautiful and expressive tone to the film, one that’s perfectly complimented by the phenomenal score from Philip Glass. The images and music effortlessly unite for one of the most richly cinematic films of the decade.
Smoke (Wayne Wang) - Paul Auster’s incredible screenplay was wonderfully directed by Wayne Wang and beautifully performed by a cast of highly talented actors that include Harvey Keitel, William Hurt, Forest Whitaker, Harold Perrineau and Stockard Channing. Not enough can really be said about the level of writing in this film. Smoke is literate, emotional, beautiful, moving - with some of my very favorite pieces of dialogue written for the screen. I revisit this film on a regular basis and never tire of its humor, its heart and its drama. This is a film about the human condition with real insight and depth, not some hollow and lazy attempt at cinematic art with paper-thin characters and formulaic plotting. Some critics have praised the film for its novelistic approach, one of the best points you can make about the layered and realistic development of its characters and themes. Sometimes the film moves you with a quiet sequence such as William Hurt flipping through his friend Auggie’s (Keitel) photo/art album and coming across a picture of his dead wife. Watching Hurt, moved to tears as he says, “It’s Ellen. Look at her. Look at my sweet darling”, is one of the most quietly powerful moments I know of. This is a great film.
Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse (Fax Bahr, George Hickenlooper, Eleanor Coppola)
“My film isn’t about Vietnam. My film is Vietnam”. Hearts of Darkness is the fascinating look at the chaotic making of Francis Ford Coppola’s masterpiece Apocalypse Now. Easily the most revealing and intense film about the madness and trials of being a great director under enormous pressure, Hearts of Darkness shows the insanity of one of the most famous productions in film history. The extensive rewrites, the crazed on-location shooting, the increasingly difficult situations with the cast - it’s all here. Coppola’s wife, Eleanor, provides the footage, also recording secret conversations with her nervous, on the verge of a mental collapse husband. The entire ordeal is frightening, but it leaves you with a greater admiration for the importance of cinema as art. The interviews are fantastic, especially with John Milius, who reads excerpts of unused dialogue from his screenplay.
Happy Together (Wong Kar-Wai) - Wong Kar-Wai is an enormous talent who has yet to make a bad film. While his last effort - the romantic sci-fi experiment 2046 - is maybe the least of his films, it’s still ambitious and visually astute in a way that few films are. While Chungking Express and Fallen Angels are perhaps the most entertaining of his works, Happy Together represents what’s ultimately so special about his gift. It’s a love story between two men living in Buenos Aires, both attempting to adapt to a new lifestyle, adrift in their thoughts and feelings for each other and for themselves. As their relationship develops, Kar-Wai offers more than a glimpse of their isolation and loneliness. The flawless performances by Leslie Cheung and the great Tony Leung are the best of their respective careers (this is also one the last performances by Leslie Cheung before his suicide four years ago). As for the visuals, they have to be seen to be believed.
Dark City (Alex Proyas) - There’s a tremendous sci-fi triple-feature from the 90s that delve into similar themes about questioning the nature of reality: The Matrix, Existenz and Dark City. If The Matrix is the most thrilling and Existenz the most experimental (it’s Cronenberg after all), then Dark City is the most purely cinematic and original - no small feat considering how good the other two films are. Dark City is particularly film-literate, mixing ideas from Hollywood film-noir and German expressionism for a fascinating and dazzling sci-fi thriller that contains some of best visual effects work I’ve seen. This is a film without a single false note. The lean structure, the effective performances (especially Kiefer Sutherland and Rufus Sewell), the atmospheric cinematography, Trevor Jones’ thrilling score, the mind-bending concept - everything is intricately done with masterful craftsmanship. The imagination on display is visionary; proof of Proyas’ extraordinary talent as a writer/director.
Raise the Red Lantern (Zhang Yimou) - Zhang Yimou’s elegant and powerful period drama about a young woman (Gong Li) who marries into wealth and the ensuing torment of living with her husband's mistresses. Raise the Red Lantern is considered the prime example of Zhang’s visual artistry (although his recent epic Curse of the Golden Flower is arguably superior). The beautifully decorated sets and costumes are breathtaking, as are the contrasting colors that convey the shifting moods of the lead character. The use of three-strip technicolor photography is what allows the visuals to shine so intensely, providing the viewer with a magnificent display of imagery and tone. The story involves palace intrigue (a reoccurring theme in Zhang’s career), and is performed with edge and realism by Zhang's muse of many years, the exquisite Gong Li. Raise the Red Lantern is a masterpiece of quiet emotion and visual splendor.
Short Cuts (Robert Altman) - Altman’s towering ensemble drama is easily one of the best films of the decade. Where do I begin? Perhaps with Jack Lemmon’s unforgettable performance. Or maybe the amazing chemistry between Lily Tomlin and Tom Waits. The scene stealing work of Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Penn. The increasingly complex relationship between Julianne Moore and Matthew Modine. The horrifying and touching chapter with Andie MacDowell and Bruce Davison’s son. Short Cuts is the kind of emotionally complex statement on American life that only Robert Altman could accomplish. Out of all the incredible performances and stories, it’s the work of Tim Robbins and Peter Gallagher that impress me most. Short Cuts is a triumph.
Bound (The Wachowski Brothers) - While The Matrix is still my favorite of the Wachowski’s films, there’s something particularly special about their 1996 film-noir thriller Bound: it’s arguably the best American directorial debut of the decade. Interestingly enough, Bound is very much like the Coen Brothers’ 1984 debut Blood Simple in its sense of stylish, noir-inspired storytelling. Bound, like Blood Simple, doesn’t just imitate the ideas of film-noir, it genuinely feels like a continuation of that particular movement. The Wachowski Brothers mix elements of an erotic sex drama with a heightened gangster picture, while adding sharp humor and an old-fashioned sense of Hollywood excitement. From a visual standpoint, Bound is pure noir, with long extended tracking shots, obscured angles and dark lighting. The brothers also give it a fresh spin, of course, adding slow-motion shoot-outs, explicit sexuality (all in one long take) and a few sequences of hilariously over-the-top genre humor. Much of this has to do with Joe Pantoliano’s classic turn as mid-level gangster Caesar. From one of the first moments you meet him, “it’s fuckin’ dark in here”, you can see how enjoyable his character will be. Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon are excellent as the two lovers who decide to steal the money from Caesar’s Chicago syndicate led by Gino (Richard C. Sarafian - the director of Vanishing Point) and his violently crazed son Johnny (Christopher Meloni - who almost steals the movie). Probably the most entertaining movie on my contribution to this list.
Husbands and Wives (Woody Allen) - Woody Allen’s piercing look at troubled marriage is vicious and gripping, maybe the best of his straight dramas. The use of hand-held camera movement and longer takes gives the story an immediacy unlike any of his other films. Husbands and Wives is a bitter experience, but one that provokes thought long after your initial viewing. It’s a particularly revealing look at Allen himself, something that makes the film difficult for some audiences. While it’s somewhat disturbing to watch Allen and Farrow act together as one of the couples (especially since Allen’s character falls for a younger woman), the overall purpose of the film isn’t to entertain or please. One of the reasons Woody Allen is one of my favorite filmmakers (he’s probably second behind Scorsese for me at this point) is because of the revealing nature of his work. Serious art is always personal, and Allen makes that point heard loud and clear with this film. I find that aspect of his work admirable and fascinating, and it’s why I contunue to revisit his great films and anticipate his new ones (this year’s Cassandra’s Dream sounds fantastic). Mia Farrow, Sydney Pollack, Judy Davis, Juliette Lewis, and Liam Neeson are exceptional.
Baraka (Ron Fricke) -
The only important thing to really say about this amazing, wondrous experience is to see a 70mm print in a theater. I had the pleasure of attending a recent screening at the Egyptian theater here in LA, and it was an indescribably beautiful event. Fricke traveled across the globe with his camera, photographing the astonishing sights of the planet. There’s not a single line of dialogue in the entire film, yet it says volumes about humanity through its astounding imagery. As the programmer at the Egyptian stated, it would’ve been smart to call 70mm what it really is: high definition. And watching Baraka, I realized just how inferior digital photography truly is. Not only is celluloid richer, but the clarity of 70mm is profoundly sharper than anything seen with today’s digital technology. Not Collateral or Zodiac or even Revenge of the Sith can match the crisp detail and focus seen in this film. The only problem is that digital cinematography is significantly cheaper than 70mm. Baraka contains an environmental thematic arc and becomes a powerful meditation on the nature of our existence. The incredible score is the film’s soul. Sensational experience.
The Eel (Shohei Imamura) - Koji Yakusho is a regular worker who discovers his wife is having an affair at the outset of the film. In a sudden burst of rage, he stabs her to death and is then sent to prison for eight years. After his release he opens a barber shop (it was the skill he learned during his sentence), accompanied only by his pet eel, where he begins a new and hopefully quiet life. Everything changes when a young woman (Misa Shimizu) starts working for him and a relationship blossoms. Her troubled life causes them much strife, leading to revealing details about the past. The Eel is a moving and challenging story about sexual repression, alienation and loneliness, violence and forgiveness. The director, Shohei Imamura, is a master of conveying psychological torment. The Eel, like all of his great films, is atmospheric and eerie, yet strangely personal and emotionally affecting. The film’s deliberately slow pacing may be a turn-off to some viewers, but it effectively captures the slow renewal and emotional ascension of Yakusho’s character. It’s a difficult film in many respects, but Imamura was a daring and ambitious filmmaker who would constantly push things in new directions. With The Eel, he made one of his very best films, and one of the most unconventional and stirring movies of the decade.
Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino) - Tarantino has established himself as the most influential filmmaker of pop-art spectacle since he burst onto the scene in the early 90s and then presented Pulp Fiction. And while there’s a part of me that feels like his homage-driven narratives have actually had a negative influence on a new generation of film-lovers that now mistake reference for substance, I still can’t deny his obvious talent or the level of enjoyment his films provide. Kill Bill is maybe the most overly indulgent mainstream release I’ve ever seen, but it’s a three-hour, crowd-pleasing feast of joyous filmmaking that I love revisiting again and again. What’s most interesting about his career thus far is that his most sophisticated film is the least appreciated. Unlike his other work, Jackie Brown is actually based in reality, with real characters actually talking about real things and expressing real emotion. It’s in Jackie Brown that Tarantino truly proves his worth as a filmmaker. The film is restrained and subtle, balancing his passion for obscure movie references with an actual story. Jackie Brown isn’t Tarantino’s original material, so he’s more careful with plot and character than any of his other work. The performances are great by the amazing cast, the dialogue is the best of his career thus far and the soundtrack is perfect.
The Hudsucker Proxy (Coen Brothers) - It didn’t have the impact of Fargo or Barton Fink or Miller’s Crossing, but the Coen’s old-fashioned 1994 comedy The Hudsucker Proxy is still one of their most enjoyable films. It’s endlessly quotable (”the wacky circumference!”) and brilliantly acted, not to mention one of their most stylish and classy films. The Hudsucker Proxy features Tim Robbins and Paul Newman (sure, sure) in two memorable and amusing performances, the classic hula-hoop set-piece and some of their very finest visual touches. Hudsucker Proxy was a bit overwhelmed by the success of their other features in the 90s, but besides Miller’s Crossing, this is the one I revisit the most frequently.
Fireworks (Takeshi Kitano) - The best film by the great “Beat” Takeshi Kitano, the famous actor/writer/editor/director who was dubbed the Japanese Charles Bronson by Roger Ebert. While his tough demeanor has given him a reputation as one of the leading filmmakers in violent and edgy crime films, Kitano has showcased his talents in many different ways, from the joyful samurai adventure Zatoichi, to the light-hearted and moving drama Kikujiro. That being said, his crime dramas Sonatine and Fireworks are his most accomplished works - films that elevate the Yakuza film into great art. So maybe the arty Charles Bronson is more appropriate for Kitano.
Devil in a Blue Dress (Carl Franklin) - One of the greatly under-appreciated movies of the 90s. Carl Franklin’s jazzy, classy adaptation of Walter Mosey’s novel sees famous literary character Ezekiel “Easy” Rawlins become a Private Investigator that gets in trouble with political scandal, a mysterious femme in a blue dress and deadly criminals in 1940’s Los Angeles. Denzel Washington is at his best in the lead role, and Don Cheadle steals the show as Mouse, his gangster friend from Texas. The dialogue is killer, the period detail is meticulous and the cinematography is atmospheric with a strong, noir-inspired style. Makes a great double feature with Chinatown.
The Truman Show (Peter Weir) - The first dramatic turn for Jim Carrey is still one of the great highlights of his career thus far. Peter Weir’s moving drama about a man who realizes his entire life is an elaborately constructed tv show is original, smart and provocative. Andrew Niccol’s dense and layered screenplay gives the talented cast great material to work with, and each of the actors do outstanding jobs realizing their characters. Memorable performances include Ed Harris as the show’s creator, Laura Linney as Truman’s fake wife, Noah Emmerich as one of his closest friends, and Natascha McElhone as the one person who attempts to free Truman from his artificial prison. When the film comes to its final moments of Truman reaching the end of his world and banging desperately on the wall for freedom, it’s impossible to not be affected by the emotion on display. And because your emotions mirror that of the fictional viewers watching Truman within the film itself, it’s impossible to not be disturbed as well.
Ronin (John Frankenheimer) -
The last great film by the legendary John Frankenheimer (Seconds, Seven Days in May, The Train, Birdman of Alcatraz). Ronin is an elegant, skillfully made chase/thriller - featuring breathtaking car chase set-pieces that rival The French Connection and To Live and Die in LA. Robert De Niro, Jean Reno, Natascha McElhone, Stellan Skarsgård, Sean Bean, and Jonathan Pryce star as characters who aren’t exactly who they seem to be. The taut screenplay uses Hitchcockian plot-devices, secrets and twists, and a lean, precise structure. The film also contains several great exchanges of dialogue: “You scared?” - “Of course I’m scared! You think I’m reluctant because I’m happy?”. Or the scene discussing the art of interrogation: “How did they get to you?” - “They gave me a grasshopper” - “What’s a grasshopper?” - “Let’s see..two parts gin, one part brandy, one part Creme de Menthe....” David Mamet rewrote the screenplay and his influence can certainly be felt. As far as thrillers go, Ronin is easily one of the best of recent years.
Hard Eight (PT Anderson) - Another film that makes a strong case for best directorial debut of the decade. PT Anderson was the most talented filmmaker to emerge in the 90s - following this film with Boogie Nights and Magnolia. That’s mighty impressive, indeed. Hard Eight is set in the casino's of Reno and feels a little bit like Melville and a little bit like Cassavetes. The less you know about the characters the better, as Anderson brilliantly develops the relationships between Philip Baker Hall, John C. Reilly, and Gwyneth Paltrow. The great Samuel L. Jackson has a strong supporting role as well, and Melora Walters (Magnolia) makes a brief appearance as his girl.
Lons
Glengarry Glen Ross (James Foley) -
James Foley's brutal adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning David Mamet play is one of my all-time favorite films, with some of the sharpest, most quotable dialogue in cinema history. A phenomenal ensemble cast of actors - including Al Pacino, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, Ed Harris and recent Oscar-winner Alan Arkin - are all in top form, but it's Jack Lemmon's wrenching turn as flailing shyster Shelley Levene that has stuck with me all these years later. The Levene character is often compared to Willy Loman, but even "Death of a Salesman" doesn't present the aging everyman so broken or pathetic. Baldwin's monologue, which did not appear in the stage version, is 100% perfection in screenwriting and delivery. An incredible, classic sequence.
The Double Life of Veronique (Krzysztof Kieslowski) - Each shot, each image, of Krzysztof Kieslowski's 1991 masterpiece The Double Life of Veronique has some deeper significance. His films are so dense with symbols, motifs and subtle threads, you sense this must reflect the way the man actually saw the world - not a random, senseless collision of moving parts, but an elegant and synchronous universe of interconnectivity. In everyday life, we're unable to detect the hand of fate shuttling us all around, so Kieslowski attempts to slow time down in his films, to demonstrate how "coincidence" is really just a convenient euphamism for fate.
Zero Effect (Jake Kasdan) - The mysterious and elusive Daryl Zero (Bill Pullman) is one of the best film characters to come out of '90s American cinema. There, I said it. He was going to get his own sitcom before "Monk" came along, a bland repurposing of some of writer/director Jake Kasdan's ideas. Zero's a brilliant detective, an expert at understanding human behavior, yet he can't stand to be around anyone. So he's hired lawyer Steve Arlo (Ben Stiller in his career-best performance) to act as his public face. Zero Effect is that rare genre hybrid - a comedy/mystery - that gets both genres right. That is, it's actually funny and intriguing at the same time. Kasdan's deft, witty script, pitch-perfect soundtrack selections and laid-back, subtle style make me wish he'd work more. (And what was going on with the atrocious Orange County?)
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Terry Gilliam) - I saw this film in a screening room filled with film critics, and they all hated every moment. One of the actresses from the film was sitting right behind me, and once the film was over, she actually apologized to her date. Apparently, she had not seen the film previously, and was embarrassed and disappointed. Well, I don't want to sound condescending or anything, but all of these people just didn't get it. Perhaps they had not read Hunter Thompson's book, an understanding of which would help in navigating the movie's time jumps, mumbled dialogue and erratic, occasionally nonsensical storytelling. But Terry Gilliam's trippy, inscrutible style and the exaggerated, shrill performances of Johnny Depp and Benicio del Toro provided the only cinematic means of conveying the chaotic madness of Thompson's lamentation. For the late author, the dream of the '60s peace/youth movement did not die peacefully. It belched up vomit and flopped around for a few years gagging for air. And this is a record of that spiraling, bile-soaked nightmare-time, that foul Year of Our Lord, 1971.
The Insider (Michael Mann) -
Heat is really the film that best sums up Michael Man-ness. (Michael Mann-liness, perhaps?) But this docudrama about tobacco company whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand may be his overall finest achievement. It's certainly the best performance of Russell Crowe's career, in which he not only physically embodies an awkward, prickly middle-aged American man but makes him enormously sympathetic. And the film's insights into the failures of a corporate-owned press are thoughtful and incisive, even more vital now than in 1999. Dante Spinotti's intrusive, claustrophobic cinematography, heavy on close-ups and over-the-shoulder shots, has been frequently imitated in the years since this film's release.
LA Confidential (Curtis Hanson) - The definitive modern noir film, Curtis Hanson's 1997 crime masterpiece is one of the best films ever made about Los Angeles and its sordid history. Kevin Spacey has made a lot of movies since LA Confidential, but he's never again had this sort of energy and immediacy on screen, and he's just one member of a huge, terrific ensemble cast. Somehow, magically, screenwriter Brian Helgeland managed to compress James Ellroy's beyond-epic novel of cops and killers (and killer cops) into a tight, intense 2.5 hour package, but without losing the book's complexity, fidelity to the actual history of the LAPD and its fierce, perceptive intelligence. I still can't believe Oscar voters genuinely preferred Titanic . That must have been a nod to its considerable box office receipts and nothing more.
Quick Change (Howard Franklin, Bill Murray) - The film's a comedy, and a rather goofy one at that, but the opening half-hour remains one of the most clever, compelling bank robbery scenes I can recall. So fiendish is their plan, Bill Murray, Geena Davis and Randy Quaid have little trouble escaping the crime scene with money in tow. Getting to the airport proves significantly more challenging. Like the other genius Bill Murray comedy of the 1990's, Groundhog Day, Quick Change spins an extremely simple premise into a broad, elaborate farce, continually approaching its central problem - escaping New York - from new angles. Jason Robards shines as the dogged NYPD cop chasing Murray's crew around the seedier sections of the Apple and Tony Shalhoub pops up in a small but hilarious role as a bewildered cabbie.
In the Company of Men (Neil LaBute) - Neil LaBute doesn't seem to think much of women. His films tend to present them as either shrill harpies or helpless needy co-dependency machines, as in the Catherine Keener and Amy Brenneman characters from Your Friends and Neighbors. This was the one film where the men truly came off as despicable as the women, cruel manipulators determined to hurt a stranger in order to prove their own dominance. (It doesn't work). A genuinely troubling portrait of the dark, cynical void at the heart of jocular, "frat boy" humor.
Cemetary Man (Michele Saovi)- Michele Saovi's cult classic about a cemetery guard waging a nightly battle against the living dead is reminiscent of George Romero's satirical zombie films, Sam Raimi's ironic Evil Dead series and other popular gems of the zom-com genre. But more than anything else, it's an ode to Italian horror - the masterworks of Dario Argento, Mario Bava and their contemporaries. A terrifically sly lead performance from Rupert Everett (I'd say it's his best to date) gives the film an eerie melancholy, particularly in the second half. Sure, it's weird and creepy and violent and fun, but as you'd maybe expect from a film wrestling with the nature of duality of love and death, it's mostly just sad.
Fresh Bait (Bertrand Tavernier) - French director Bertrand Tavernier has written a few books on American film, and Fresh Bait references American crime thrillers constantly. Its teenaged protagonists are obsessed with American movies (in one scene, they go to a video store and staunchly reject renting anything French, opting instead for Nightmare on Elm Street 6). Their drive to become criminals in some ways derives from a desire to emulate movies heroes like Al Pacino in Scarface (a film they've watched so many times, they can quote it by heart). Well-performed, snappily directed and, of course, as with almost all French movies, a good deal sexier and more lively than its American counterparts. Well, unless you consider close-ups of Bijour Phillips' vulva to be "sexy," in which case Bully might have this one beat.
Existenz (David Cronenberg) -
David Cronenberg's take on many of the same issues the Wachowski's tackled in the Matrix films has less slo-mo bullet dodging. But it's no less intriguing and complex, and it CERTAINLY has the better ending. Allegra Geller designed virtual reality video games that immerse players in a vivid, realistic fantasy world full of danger, intrigue and complicated puzzles to solve. When she's threatened by radicals who hate the concept of virtual gaming, escaping with the help of cynical reporter Ted Pikul, she begins to suspect that this adventure may not really be happening at all. Could she really be stuck inside her own video game? Cronenberg, rather than playing the concept straight as a techno-thriller (how to escape a computer system!), opts instead for intense psychological horror. Geller and Pikul can't stop running; they don't have a chance. They are no longer totally in control of their own minds.
Barton Fink (Coen Brothers) - The Coen Brothers' most perplexing, allegorical script was borne out of the writer/directors own frustrations and shared writers' block. Unable to finish their awesomely complex, twisty script for Miller's Crossing, they tossed off this bizarre indie with John Turturro about a tortured playwright trying to write a wrestling picture while holed up in a fleabag motel that may or may not be a lower circle of Hell. Funny, strange and incredibly insightful about the writing process itself, this is one of the Coen's signature films.
Heavenly Creatures (Peter Jackson) - Peter Jackson's film is based on a true story. One of the girls in the film, Yvonne (Melanie Lynskey), grew up into novelist Anne Perry. I mention this because the story is almost too perfect to have really happened. Young girls with a remarkably intense bond collaborate on a murder. And not a random mother, either - they kill one of the girls' parents! What elevates his film from Movie-of-the-Week to, well, Best of the '90s, is Jackson's refusal to psychoanalyze his protagonists. What purpose did their friendship serve? What lack in their lives could only be filled by the other girl? (He hints around ideas about Victorian repression and latent homosexuality, but staunchly refuses to push these ideas to their natural conclusions). Rather than interpret their story from the outside, he immerses the viewer in the inside, bringing the girl's strange fantasies to life. The filmmaking itself grows increasingly erratic as the story goes on; time-jumps become common, narrative consistency goes out the window. Though we can't understand the exact thought process that could lead a young girl to so despise her own mother, we do get a sense for the cold, almost inhuman emotional numbness that overtook them both.
Sneakers (Phil Alden Robinson) - Phil Alden Robinson's comic caper film unites a fantastic ensemble of actors inside an extremely old-fashioned formula. If there's a more reliable way to turn out a watchable, middle-of-the-road entertainment than that, I'm not familiar with it. And yet, the film isn't the solid, professionally crafted and slightly dull confection its logline implies. As in Hitchcock's or Dassin's heist adventures, the McGuffin (in this case, a tiny encryption device) ceases to matter about halfway through. The cloak and dagger stuff is just the entry point for a story that's really about great promise and wasted potential. Robert Redford, Sidney Poitier, Ben Kingsley, Dan Aykroyd, David Strathairn - geniuses that have thrown away their best and most promising years - have an exceptionally sympathetic Everyman quality that, say, Ocean's Eleven could never touch. They're not "cool," they're not millionaires and they're not a bunch of Thomas Crowns, stealing to keep themselves entertained. Sure, it's exciting and mysterious, but it's also just a job.
Three Kings (David O. Russell)- The best American film about either Gulf War isn't an overwrought meditation on war like Jarhead or a bloated case file like Syriana. It's an action-comedy starring Jamie Kennedy and Ice Cube. I know, I know, that's hard to believe. But David O. Russell's brilliant Three Kings manages to say more about the fog of war and the nature of violent conflict than 10 million well-meaning documentaries. Four greedy soldiers opportunistically scour the Iraqi countryside looking for Saddam's hidden gold, and instead accidentally wind up doing some good. In fact, the whole point of Russell's film seems to be how difficult it is for American soldiers to actually do any good while they're over there. Not because they're bad people or because they don't care - they do! - but because the war is about money and politics, not about achieving any real goal or mission. The film came out 8 years ago and it's set over 15 years ago and nothing nothing nothing has changed.
A Simple Plan (Sam Raimi) - Sam Raimi's most quiet, reserved, contemplative film may be his best. It's often compared to Fargo, the Coen Brothers' icy crime saga from a few years before, but Raimi's really borrowing the spirit of '50s film noir - the James Cain stories about hapless suckers stupidly risking everything on a long-shot at real happiness. Seduced by a mysterious bag of money discovered in the woods, brothers Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton, along with a drunk friend, become tangled in an increasingly-complicated and difficult to manage web of lies. They agree to sit on the money for a while before spending it, but argue over which one will keep it at his house. They agree to burn the money if anyone comes along asking questions, but it's a lot easier to agree to burn a bag of money than to actually go through with it in the end. Raimi's delicate snowbound cinematography, the career-highlight performances of Paxton and Thornton and a chilling score from Danny Elfman make this one of the '90s more compelling and memorable thrillers.
Scott
Fallen Angels (Wong Kar-wai) – Kar-wai’s dazzling follow up to Chungking Express is my favorite of his films. The film is enjoyable for the way that it endlessly experiments with the cinematic form. The characters and the city of Hong Kong itself are captured in distorted, extreme wide angle lenses and vivid color palettes, crossing each other’s paths frequently, yet remaining distant and isolated from each other. Features one of my all time favorite film endings.
Chungking Express (Wong Kar-wai) –
The film that put Kar-wai on the international radar and influenced many American filmmakers. Told in two segments, both following two lovelorn males and the unusual women who become objects of their desire.
American Movie (Chris Smith) – Possibly the funniest documentary I’ve ever seen. At first, I could have sworn it was a mockumentary, since it’s so hard to believe that its subject, wannabe filmmaker Mark Borchardt, could actually be a real person and not some quirky character. It’s a surprisingly effective film about the difficulty of attaining the American dream. Borchardt may not be a talented filmmaker, or even a competent one, but one can’t help but respect the drive and determination that he puts into his dream. Even as we’re laughing at his foibles, we still really want him to find a way to succeed somehow.
Grosse Point Blank (George Armitage) – Hitman Martin Blank (John Cusack) goes back to his 10-year high school reunion as a cover for his next hit. Long lost girlfriend comes into play, old friends wonder what he’s been up to with his life, government officials and rivals are out to kill him, he starts to question his existence and find himself – hilarity ensues. It’s an enormously entertaining film that doesn’t wear out on repeat viewings.
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson) –
I know there are those that find Anderson’s epic to be a bit too long and pretentious, and they can probably plead their case quite well. But I don’t buy into it. I’m blown away by this film every time I watch it. The emotional depth of the characters and writing is pretty astounding, and keeps up throughout the entire 3 + hours. Also, the sophistication of the camera movements and the amount of detail put into every single frame add to the experience, making it one of the key films of the impressive year that was 1999.
Kicking and Screaming (Noah Baumbach) – A personal favorite, and one that would have probably faded into complete obscurity if Criterion didn’t release it last fall. It’s a wry, hilarious, and somewhat bittersweet film about being dragged into adulthood that still manages to resonate with someone like me who is going through the same things as these characters, only a decade later.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle) – Boyle’s stylish adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s acclaimed novel is one of the best films about addiction ever made. Known mostly for its excellent soundtrack, it’s also worth noting for its inventive directorial choices and slightly surrealistic tone.
Ed Wood (Tim Burton) – Much like Borchardt in American Movie, Ed Wood was far from talented, but his passion for cinema was inspiring. Burton’s film casts a sympathetic light on the hack director and (thanks to Johnny Depp’s performance) manages to poke fun of Wood without ridiculing him. Also features great black and white photography and a classic performance by Martin Landau as Bela Lugosi.
Bottle Rocket (Wes Anderson) – The film that introduced Anderson’s unique voice is a tale of young men searching for direction in life, but looking in all the wrong places (i.e. – becoming theives). Owen Wilson’s debut performance as Dignan is still his best work to date. It made Martin Scorsese’s top 10 list for best films of the 90s, so if it didn’t make mine, I’d be a “damn fool!”
Delicatessen (Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro) – I don’t know what happened to Marc Caro, but he collaborated with Jeunet on this and another great 90s film (City of Lost Children). Delicatessen is one of the most twisted, bizarre, and enjoyable comedies to come out of France, or anywhere for that matter. It kind of just has to be seen – explaining it doesn’t do much justice.
Wayne’s World (Penelope Spheeris) – Wayne’s World was something of a cultural phenomenon in the early 90's. I enjoy the sequel a lot too, and almost put that on the list, if only for the Dell Preston character. Mike Myers and Dana Carvey were doing the type of comedy laced with pop culture references here that would later become the hip thing to do throughout the 90s and is still quite popular today, even though it’s kind of running its course.
The Player (Robert Altman) – Altman’s great satire is one of the better (probably even the best) films to criticize the phony, marketability-over-content attitude of Hollywood.
American Beauty (Sam Mendes) – The direction, writing, acting, cinematography, etc. are top notch all across the board. This is one of the films that made me start getting really interested in the art of cinema when I saw it as a teenager.
Election (Alexander Payne) – A sharp political satire disguised as a teen movie that put Payne on the path to becoming one of this generation’s best working American filmmakers.
My Own Private Idaho (Gus Van Sant) -
River Phoenix is phenomenal as the sensitive narcoleptic male street hustler searching for his mom in Van Sant’s most eclectic (and probably best) film. One moment it’s a road movie, then it’s a modern take on Henry IV, then a deep character study, then there’s some documentary-esque footage, then it’s a pseudo-experimental film. All these things jumble together a bit and it feels like kind of a mixed bag on first viewing, but it winds up being an oddly poignant one-of-a-kind film with many moments that really stick with me – especially the ending.
JFK (Oliver Stone) – One of the few Oliver Stone films I can enjoy watching. It’s way too long and a lot of it is probably bogus info, but I can’t help but get sucked in during all the dramatizations of what could have happened.
Wild At Heart (David Lynch) – Lynch’s Palme D’Or winning road movie really does live up to its name. It is quite wild indeed. Full of the usual crazy Lynch touches, a great Laura Dern performance, Nicolas Cage being a nut job, Willem Dafoe being a nut job, plenty of Wizard of Oz references, and a whole bunch of other enjoyably insane stuff.
Continue to PART II
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