I know I generally don't discuss private stuff, but I just had to share. See, I just moved in, well, am in the process, anyway: ikea was raided, many things assembled (then taken apart and assembled again because one little thing was wrong, obviously), and while most of my boxes are still packed, I know my priorities, as you can see below:

This will also (hopefully) mean posting frequency should be back up soon. And: I found the copy of Hable Con Ella that I thought I'd lost, so I now have two, and I'm thinking...contest?

Hotel Chevalier

I'm never quite sure what to think about Wes Anderson. Oh, he's brilliant, especially visually, there's no debating that; unfortunately, he knows it a little too well. Still, when iTunes was being infuriatingly local last night and I was unable to download Hotel Chevalier due to being outside the US, it ruined my evening.

I managed to get a version. Low quality, and I believe the beginning has been chopped off (please tell me, my version starts with Jason Schwartzman opening the door of his room), but I was very happy with it nonetheless.

It's a strange little movie. It's unmistakably Anderson, from the way it's shot to the small details in the set decoration, and even in the way the two characters talk. It never quite takes off, but I was left wanting more, and that can't be a bad sign, can it? Unusually enough for Anderson, it doesn't feel like the characters' whole world is contained on screen, like all they ever were and will be is here, it feels like they are fully realized characters with interesting stories beyond the screen. They breathe. And that's a welcome change.

I'm looking forward to The Darjeeling Limited. The three brothers setup makes me hope it will be more Royal Tenenbaums than Life Aquatic. And to keep me entertained in the meantime, I just ordered Bottle Rocket, which I found clumsily charming the first time around.

Top 50 - #4 - Donnie Darko

This is a movie I really can't be objective about. Oh, of course, we can never judge a movie truly objectively - it's about taste, after all. All kinds of things factor in: what mood you were in when you watched the film, which films you'd seen before, your own life, even. Still, I'm usually able to take a step back and see a movie for what it is, even often understand why people would have a different opinion of it.

Not Donnie Darko though. You have to understand: this was my absolute favorite movie from ages 17 to 19. I must've forced more than a dozen people to watch it with me, and I don't think there's any movie I've seen more often. It's almost as if this movie's in my veins, even now that I'm no longer a true believer or fanatic. And I have absolutely no idea what I would think if I was able to watch it today for the first time.

I can't quite put my finger on what made this movie so perfect for me at that time. Part of it is definitely that Jake Gyllenhaal plays the ultimate misunderstood teen, both aloof, feeling infinitely more intelligent and interesting than his peers and at the same time much more vulnerable and sensitive than he wants to be, or will admit to being. Another big part is that - in the original version at least - this is a film that dares to trust its audience, to not explain too much, and at the time this made me feel majorly intelligent myself, of course.

I still think the movie stands up: there's a lot of first-timer show-offy camera moves, but they work, the tracking shot through the school especially. The dialogue is great. The plot is still fascinating after twenty times. And since I've managed to avoid listening to the director's commentary, the movie is for me still very much open to interpretation, and wonderfully ambiguous.

If I sound a little defensive, it's because I no longer think my adoration of this movie is justified. I do still think it's a movie that will stand the test of time, and will be loved by many troubled teens to come, and it's certainly not just for nostalgia's sake that it ranks this high.

Gretchen: My mom had to get a restraining order against my stepdad. He has emotional problems.
Donnie: Oh, I have those too! What kind of emotional problems does your dad have?

and let's not forget:

Gretchen: You're weird.
Donnie: Sorry.
Gretchen: No, that was a compliment.


Next up: a black and white movie from this decade about "the modern man", with bonus aliens and blackmail.

Quick thoughts - Shrek the Third

The Shrek sequels are surprisingly inoffensive. Yes, they lack the freshness of the original, but whereas with the bloated, convoluted Pirates sequels this bothered me to no end, the Shrek movies keep it simple and short, without any more ambition than entertaining, and in that ambition they succeed, despite a falling lpm ratio. The Shrek-based humor is quite repetitive at this point in particular, but there are lovely little visual jokes - the trees using their branches as a parachute, for instance. Also, the celebrity voices are well-cast, I especially liked that after already using John Cleese in the second movie, they now also added fellow Monty Python alum Eric Idle as a somewhat loony Merlin. The subplot about villains taking back their stories could have been more interesting and fleshed out, but it feels petty to complain about a movie that knows to stay simple, short, and light.

Of course I prefer originality, daring, and so on. But for an evening like yesterday, when I was spending the evening with a friend I hadn't spent time with in a while, there could not have been a more appropriate movie.

Top 50 - #5 - Jules et Jim

Whenever I hear someone extolling the greatness of Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulian, aka. Amelie, I feel like just sitting them down in front of my TV and pushing Jules et Jim into the DVD-player. Jeunet doesn't deny his influence, of course - Amelie is seen watching a scene from Jules et Jim at one point, and he does use some of the elements, including a voice-over eerily similar in tone, to great effect. He's even able to add some things, most notably in his use of color. Ultimately though, there is one thing that makes Jules et Jim many times more fascinating that Amelie, and by far the greater film, and that is Catherine.

I don't think any woman like her has ever been put on screen: willful, strong, yet ever changing and impossible to get a grasp on. She is truly - as much as that expression is a cliche - a force of life: someone whose passion is for living and for living grandly, wildly, freely. She can stand in for every woman, but at the same time I don't know anyone even remotely like her.

Nobody could have played her as well as Jeanne Moreau, of course. She's infuriating, but you can understand why Jules and Jim can't let her go, why she exerts a fascination on them even before they meet, and why they go along with her plans, her desires. Why they try so hard to make her happy, even knowing that it's an impossible task. Why they strive to understand this strange woman, who jumps into the Seine out of protest, dresses up as a man at will, and laughs that wonderful, triumphant, and slightly intimidating laugh.

The tragedy, of course, is that just like Jules and Jim can never be free of Catherine, she can never be free, because she can never be satisfied. She simply wants too much: the home life with Jules, the love life with Jim, the sex life with Albert, even, and independence despite all this. Yet she never, ever stops trying, and even at the end, where it could be said she gives up, you can also see it as her trying out a whole new form of freedom.

There's more to the film, of course. It's gorgeous to look at, the music is amazing, and the tempo, the pace, is unlike any other film I know. It's a tragic film, in a way, but it never makes me said, just melancholic, wistful and feeling like throwing my life upside down. Feeling like simply living more.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

This film's not quite the masterpiece it wants to be, but I liked it, liked it a lot even. It's a western without many of the standard elements: no shoot-outs, here, no chases on horses, no cowboy hats, even, just bowlers. It's almost as much a period drama as a western, in fact. It's a movie I'd sooner recommend to my mother than to my little brother, which you don't expect from a western.

I usually hate movies that are so self-serious and solemn, but I found myself entranced by this one, its slow pace and elegiac tone, maybe because it's content not to give any straight answers. We spend a lot of time with Jesse James and Bob Ford, we get the feeling that we know them, but their precise motivation remains opaque. There are a lot of themes here, from hero worship to celebrity culture, but luckily Dominik doesn't try to convey any specific message, and the assassination of the title is left wonderfully ambigious. Some of the symbolism is heavy handed (Jesse playing with and then killing the two snakes comes to mind), but while this bothered me to no end in The Brave One, here it seemed to fit.

I know a lot of people dismiss Brad Pitt, and he does tend to pick lighter, easier roles he can just coast through on charisma, but he's perfect as Jesse James. Sure, he falls back on his familiar ticks, opening his mouth and showing his tongue, squinting, but who cares when it works? His Jesse is fascinating and charismatic, but you never forget that he is also dangerous and unpredictable.

And then, Casey Affleck. I agree his is the knock-out performance here, keeping his Robert Ford exactly on the fine line between repulsive, sympathetic, and pathetic. He gives you the willies, as another character says at some point, but at the same time you want to put your arms around his protectively and yell out "he's just a kid!". Affleck is 32, but he is totally believable as a gawky 19 year old still finding himself (and imdb tells me he studied physics, which raises him a few points more in my esteem). I could go on about the supporting cast too, but I'll just point out that Garett Dillahunt from Deadwood and John from Cincinnati is great as well.

Why not a masterpiece, then? Well, it's a pacing thing, I think. The coda feels too short, and other parts feel a little uneven. I think the elliptic storytelling works, but it just doesn't feel quite right. I also think the narration had some problems: I had a hard time getting used to it, and it is sometimes a little too explicit about what the characters are feeling. I'm not against it, and I believe the sectioning of the story into "chapters" by the narration was a good idea, but it feels like it could have used a little more tweaking.

I know, this film has been tweaked with forever already, but just like in poetry you need the exact right word in the exact right place, a film can only be a masterpiece if every cut or shot feels like it couldn't possibly have been any different, and this film still feels too fluid for that, too wavering. Too many threads are left dangling.


I do think it's a timeless movie, in the sense that it feels detached from any time and place, feels like it's on some different place, and I can imagine returning to it in ten years, in twenty, if only for some gorgeous images - like Jesse waiting for a train and disappearing in the fog - and the absolutely beautiful Nick Cave soundtrack.

Buñuel blog-a-thon: Belle de Jour

And now, for my contribution to Flickhead's Buñuel-a-thon:



The title "Belle de Jour" is a strange one, and can be interpreted in many ways. The official explanation is that a "belle de jour" is a day lily, a flower that blooms only during the day, but I always associate "Belle de jour" almost automatically with its complement, 'Laide de Nuit'. The title can be translated as "beauty of the day", but also as "beautiful by day", and thus maybe implicitly ugly by night?

The interesting thing is that Séverine is a prostitute during the day, a well-mannered (though apparently frigid) BCBG woman during the night. According to the rules of society, the former is ugly, the latter "beautiful", but if you interpret the name as I do, could it not be the opposite? Might it be that Buñuel is trying to say that's it's not her work in the brothel that's wrong, her masochistic desires, but just her repression of those desires, her lies and pretense?

Buñuel invites us to be a voyeur in this film, to watch the pristine Catherine Deneuve get defiled, and we enjoy it. Are even aroused by it to some extent. The brilliance of the film, in my opinion, is that he never tells us how to feel, not just about Séverine, but also about our own feelings. I like to think that he's on her side, that all he blames her for is her shame, but it's equally possible to look at the film as a cautionary tale about what happens when you don't restrain yourself.

I think the first interpretation is more plausible, though. See, he does stack the deck a little. Just watch the look on her face. It's almost impossible not to envy her in that moment.

Nobody knew how to give the finger to the repressed bourgeoisie quite like Buñuel. And even 40 years later, few films have dared to be this sexy and provocative.






For a more straight-up review, I've recently written one here. In Dutch, alas. So only for the privileged few ;-)

They Drive by Night

My 200th post, already, or so blogger tells me. Not taking this month into account, I'm kinda glad with the posting rhythm I have now, and the tone. Now, on to business.


They Drive by Night really has no right to work as well as it does. It's a weird genre-blend, part social commentary/underdog story, part noir. The plot meanders: first it's about these truckers and their hard life, then it's about how they plan to make it, then about the danger of the road, then all of a sudden it's a noir with a murder and an attempted frame-up. A pre-High Sierra Bogie is one of the two main characters in the first half, then more or less ignored, or at least neglected, afterwards.

Still, it works surprisingly well together. Part of it is because the characters are consistent through the tonal shifts. For instance, Ann Sheridan's Cassie might give in at some point, and go from hard-to-get to loving and trusting fiancee, but she never becomes so soft that we don't recognize her. Part of it is also simply that the dialogue is so good, sharp and witty, and it rolls off everybody's tongue. The cast, including supporting players, is also good, and look for our old pal Shapely in the small role of Irish.

A classic this is not, by any stretch. But just as it's possible to enjoy an unremarkable, yet well-made and entertaining film made today, it's possible to enjoy a film like that made 67 years ago.

William Wyler blog-a-thon: The Best Years of Our Lives

My contribution to goatdog's William Wyler blog-a-thon. Enjoy!



Three men return from war, each wounded in similar but separate ways, both physical and mental, visible and not-so much. They try to fit back in.

It doesn't really sound like enough story to fill 3 hours, does it? But quietly, unassumingly, these three hours pass, and when it's over you look at your watch, surprised at how much time has passed while you were in this world.


I have a hard time expressing what makes this film so fascinating, I don't quite know how to describe its appeal in a way that will prompt everyone who hasn't seen it go see it, now, as they should.

Dana Andrews is the young hotshot who comes back to find that the girl he married just before leaving doesn't really like him so much out of his uniform. Frederic March does get to come back to a loving family, a faithful wife, a son, and a no-nonsense, pretty daughter who very much appeals to Andrews. But he can't stand the job he returns to at the bank, having to deny loans to people who fought alongside him, and falls back on the bottle too often. Finally, Harold Russell, himself a war invalid, plays Homer, a sweet young man who comes out without his hands without even really having participated in battle. There is a sweet girl waiting for him at home, but he can't deal with his family's reaction to his handicap, and can't accept the love and care his fiancee is willing to give him.

What I admire most of all, I think, is that the film - while admittedly being somewhat schmaltzy at times - doesn't resolve all these threads tidily. The ending is uplifting, but there are many problems still remaining, and the film acknowledges that none of these people will lead an easy life. Some resolution is possible, but the problems will never entirely disappear. Something that I suspect has never changed and is still relevant for returning soldiers.

And, of course, this being a studio film from the 40's directed by Wyler and photographed by Gregg Toland, it looks absolutely gorgeous and gets all the details right. The performances are also top-notch, especially also from Russell, who was not a professional actor but rightfully got an Oscar for this part.

It's not a flashy movie, it doesn't have any easy hooks, but it's a thoroughly honest and involving movie. Wyler maybe wasn't an "auteur" in the strictest sense of the word. But he was, as can be seen here, amazing at getting the best out of all his collaborators, putting everything together, and crafting a great film out of it.

The Departed take two

"How's your mother?"
"Oh...I'm afraid she's on her way out."
"We all are. Act accordingly."

I liked this film a lot better the second time around, to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I liked it the first time around too, but I thought it was a little too detached, too cold. Somehow that bothered me less this time. It's quite a focussed, fast picture, a lesson in how to cut the fat without skimping on the details that make a story, and in particular characters, work. It's not subtle in any sense of the word, but it is effective: every detail we're supposed to notice is zoomed in on for a partial second, long enough so we see it but short enough not to hit you over the head with it. The quote above is just a throwaway line, but it summarizes the spirit of the movie perfectly, just like Sullivan's "Okay" just before he, too, goes with a spray of blood.

I know, I know, after railing about the Brave One, how can I endorse this film's all-too-obvious symbolisms and dualities/doublings? Well, maybe because Scorsese doesn't pretend, for all of his flourishes, that this is a crime movie, a movie meant to entertain first and foremost. Also, maybe, because the ending here is honest, more than many other movies of its kind, while the ending of the Brave One is flabbergastingly offensive.

One small quibble: my mother commented in the many fucks in the film. No, I don't mind the word myself, and I think it's a valid - and sometimes very effective - stylistic tool. It can really tell you something about a character, or a milieu. In this film though, I believe it's overused, not so much in quantity (237 fucks, google tells me), but because everyone uses it equally and in the same way, with the exception of Queenan and the shrink (Vera Farmiga, incidentally, it an actress I'm fascinated by). Only Alec Baldwin and Mark Wahlberg manage to infuse something of their characters in the word, and first scene together is priceless for it: but this is not so much because of the f-word but because their profanity is so creative. The use of fuck by the two rats starts feeling old pretty soon.

Oh well. If you can't get enough of the word, you can always check out my post on the Big Lebowski. Or, of course, watch what's below.

The Brave One

So, turns out? Intelligent, affluent, left-wing people's stance on vigilantism... is pretty much the same one as that of the traditional, red-blooded conservative male kind, only more insidious because it thinks it's subtle. Both Neil Jordan and Jodie Foster clearly think they've made something revolutionary here, something nuanced and insightful, but it couldn't possibly more contrived and over the top, from the convenient "Es La Ley" sign all too obtrusively hung somewhere in the frame before Foster's first murder to Foster's ponderous, pretentious purple prose on her radio show. I can enjoy a dumb movie on occasion - what I can't stand is a dumb movie that thinks it's smart.


Weird thing is, just before the end of the movie, I had no idea what I would say about it. Well, that's not quite right, I had plenty of things to say, I just didn't know what the conclusion would be. The star rating. But ten minutes thinking it over afterwards was all it took to make up my mind. So yeah, my first pan? Coming right up.

Top 50 - #6 - The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Craig guessed it, so here goes...

We see a desert. Sand, mostly. Then, all of a sudden, our eyes jump from background to close-up as one of the ugliest faces you've probably seen slides into the frame from the side. Later in the scene, a man jumps out of a broken window, meat in hand.

Later, a boy is getting water from a well when, with ominous Morricone music playing, a small dot appears on the horizon, and gets bigger and bigger as it approaches. The boy runs inside. A man appears in the doorway, walks in, eats some food.

Once upon a time in the West is the film most often regarded as a masterpiece, and when people talk about it one of the things they mention is the opening scene, and how long it takes before the first word is spoken. Once upon a time was clearly meant to be a masterpiece, but I think that the less serious-minded The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is the real masterpiece. Here also, it takes forever for the first word to be spoken: Leone always was a visceral, visual director,

For every good scene in Once upon a time I can easily think of a similar, better one in GBU, as I'll call it from now on. Take the introduction of Henry Fonda as the villain: it's great, absolutely, but does it rival the gradual reveal of Blondie? First we see his hat, his gun, his hands, we hear his sarcastig voice and then finally, see his face. The hanging scene? I'll grant that it's more poignant than anything in GBA, but it's not by far as funny as the successive hangings here, and there's no rivaling the last one for an ending.

Finally, I think GBA is more succesful because its morality is more muddled, less black and white. "the Good" really isn't all that much better than Angel Eyes, "the Bad", maybe just a little more compassionate, and I've always thought Tuco, "the Ugly", is the heart of the film. His scene with his brother is amazing, and his love/hate relationship with Blondie anchors the film, makes it about more than just three men who want money. Also here, it's not words that express it, but imaged: Blondie finally handing Tuco his cigar. Muddying the moral waters even more is the cival war, which suddenly makes what three men do so much less important. The scene jars a little with the rest of the film, but I love it, and I think it's what Blondie and Tuco do for the general that redeems them.

This film is 3 hours long, but that fact still surprises me, because while this is a deliberate movie, it never feels slow or long, and when I watch it time flies. The plot is intricate, but easy to follow, and the power keeps shifting: who has the information, who has the gun, who has the upper hand?

You can't talk about Leone's spaghetti westerns, of course, without mentioning Morricone. The score is amazing, and integral to the feel of the movie, to its texture. Just listening to the music brings back images. The amazing opening titles. The scorching sun. Weathered faces. And, of course, close-ups of eyes, tense and prepared, waiting for the guns to go off.

Recently, my love for and knowledge of westerns was called into question. My gender was the main reason, the guy even admitted to it. But I dare anyone to say now that I don't love westerns. I'm seeing The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford on Monday, and I can hardly wait.

Next up: a movie named for two guys which really is all about a girl...

Once

My review is up at filmtotaal now. Also, I've noticed the number of visitors dropping. I understand, seeing the lack of updates. But please come back in October, ok? I promise I'll be watching many, many films and writing about them.

Also: expect a (short) post on the Brave One tomorrow. Jodie Foster as a vigilante? I don't know whether I'll like it, especially considering the definitively mixed reactions it's been getting, but I AM intrigued.

Top 50 - #7 - The Third Man

Oh, do I love the Third Man's crooked frames, and the grin on Orson Welles' face when light is finally shed upon him. Do I love Joseph Cotton's sad, drunk Holly Martins, who despite his tough guy exterior really is just a naive romantic at heart. Do I love Valli's wistful looks and Vienna's corrupted, crumbling ruins.

Did I hum Anton Karas' zither tunes all night after seeing this film again last Friday? Yes, indeed I did.

There's just so much here. Though the chase through the sewers is a little repetitive and long when seen for the n'th time, the lighting is still amazing, and that shot of Harry Lime's fingers through the grate? Fantastic. The ferris wheel scene is perfect, full of tension and then, of course, that speech. And let's, of course, not forget the final shot: Valli walks towards the camera, towards Holly, for what seems like an eternity, and then, without even a glance, walks out of a the frame. Holly lights a cigarette. Throws away the match. The End.

I won't write too much here as my next VersPers piece will be about this movie, but still: if you haven't seen it...what are you waiting for?
Next up: after a movie about the third man, a movie about three men.

Incidentally: if one of these "next-up" things makes you want to take a guess, feel free to do so in the comments. No prizes will be awarded, but it always nice to be right, right? Also, check out the link list -->

And now, with due thanks to the Shamus

The Bourne Ultimatum

My review (as always, in Dutch) is up now. And I'm quite proud of it, to be honest.

(updated)

Now, for some reactions to comments (I hope you don't mind they're all in English):

@Rene: the first Bourne already shared little with the book that originated aside from title and premise. By this installment, the books and films are an entirely different beast. I have to say, I think I read two of the books, maybe even all three, and all I can remember is some business about a killer for hire with a Spanish sounding name and that I didn't think they were all that good aside what the first film retained: a main character who didn't know who he was, and more importantly, whether he was one of the good or bad guys. Since they already departed from the books so much, and they pretty much invented the entire plot for this one anyway, I see no reason why there could be no more films.

@Nancy: I totally agree that Ultimatum is inferior to Identity plot-wise, and that they were clearly struggling for a plot here. However, I don't think the films have much to do with plot, and kinetically, this one if the best of the trilogy. As for wafer-thin plots to propel possible sequels, I can think of a couple, for instance the CIA and Bourne reluctantly working together to catch someone, followed of course by the inevitable betrayal of Bourne by the CIA etc.

@Lani: thanks for the compliment :-)

And now: as per request, a shorter version in English:

Jason Bourne is often said to be a James Bond for our times, but what does that say about the time we live in? The old JB was maybe rebellious sometimes but always a part of the system, while the biggest enemy of the new JB is the CIA, the American counterpart to Bond's MI-6. In the Bond films spying is seen as necessary to protect the ignorant citizen while in the Bourne films the government has for overshot its purposes and the constant surveillance is presented as something creepy.

Bond may have been a spy, but staying undercover was hardly his strongest point. Bourne, however, truly is the man in the shadow, invisible due to his everyman's face and neutral clothing, someone who expertly avoids all the camera's that crowd our world today. Even Greengrass' camera seems to have trouble following him. Bourne often is seen only in the periphery, and the camera dodges back and forth to get a grasp on him, zooms in, zooms out, goes out of focus and back in. You have to simply undergo the chaos and disorientation for a minute or five to get into the rhythm, but boy, it's some rhythm you've gotten into, then. The ADD-editing and soundtrack fully pull you along in this adrenaline rollercoaster (a phrase, incidentally, which nicely alliterates in Dutch).

(followed by some blabla about the plot)

(something about how this film is, of course, not about the plot, but about the paranoid atmosphere and being on the edge of your seat)

Unfortunately, Greengrass thought it necessary to delve into the moral swamp of Bourne's motivation. In first film, Bourne had no idea if he was a good or a bad guy before his memory loss, and that's exactly what made his character so fascinating, especially since the answer seemed to be "pretty bad". In the second film, he was driven by something we can all understand: revenge. In the third film, however, the body count climbs mostly because Jason dear has some nightmarish flashbacks, and though he kills mostly out of self-defense, it nonetheless seems a bit slim a justification for the high body count. Greengrass seems mostly interested in how good or bad Bourne was before his amnesia, in finding out if he was forced to become a killing machine or whether he volunteered.He thereby neatly skirts the more tricky, but also much more interesting question: whether Bourne's actions now are good or bad: after all, we wouldn't want to confront the audience with their own championing of this bloodbath, would we. Thus, the introspection is limited to a few shots of Bourne looking guiltily at his hands.

(some blabla about other flaws including plot holes and nationalism, but that this is mostly irrelevant because you only think of all this hours afterwards)

Conclusion: see this in theatres, and if the level stays this high, may Bourne live as long as Bond.



Ok, I'm afraid I'm all out of excuses to procrastinate now, my thesis beckons. I bid you adieu.

Top 50 - #8 - The Passenger

I've talked about this film quite often before on the blog, and I now have an article (in Dutch, sorry) up at VersPers, so I won't go into a lot of detail here. Let it just be said Nicholson has rarely been better. And that this film is worth seeing over and over again.

My third Godard

Somehow, I almost feel like reviewing this film as if it was a CD, track by track, and only at the end trying to summarize my feelings about the thing as a whole. It's strange, because this film has much more of an overarching narrative than, say, masculin/feminin, and it's more coherent in tone as well than for instance L'Eclisse, yet at the same time it feels more like a collection of terrific songs than those movies. Take the Billy the Kid moment:

It's not entirely random (it foreshadows a later moment in the film), but it feels like an inspired little riff, a moment that could stand by itself, almost, without knowing who and what it's about. The Louvre sequence is another example, memorably paid homage to in The Dreamers. But the moment that suddenly made me realize I was falling in love with this film was the minute of silence followed by the dance sequence:


There is so much pleasure here just watching these three people move, each with their own thoughts and dreams and motivation but in this moment moving so beautifully together. If you want to be deep about it, it's a metaphor for cinema itself: lives and personalities converging for a moment to create a unit, forever united on screen.

I'm not sure I'll watch the film as a whole very often, though it's entertaining enough - as with all CD's, there are some 'songs' that just aren't that memorable or special. I am sure, however, that in lost moments this is one of the films to pop into your DVD player just to enjoy a single scene.

Top 50 - #9 - The Big Lebowski

I have a confession to make: the first time I saw the Big Lebowski, I was underwhelmed. I liked it, sure, but I thought it was aimless and meandering, and most importantly, I didn't think it was all that funny. Maybe I was in the wrong mood for it that first time, but maybe - and this is in fact what I think is more probable - this film is an acquired taste. It needs to grow on you. Because the second time, you stop looking for a story, and you can just sit back and enjoy its unique atmosphere and brand of humor.

It's telling that I couldn't, in my hint, think of anything that wasn't obvious. I picked nihilists, a cut off toe, and bowling, but I could just has well have mentioned a rug that really tied the room together, or white Russians, or even just mentioned that it was not about just a dude, but about THE dude. There isn't a single part of this film that you can quote without it being clear immediately which film you're referring too. It's telling that Veronica Mars made a habit of referring to it for quite a few episodes in a row and never had to repeat one. Careful, man, there's a beverage here!

The Big Lebowski didn't just grow on me, it also became funnier every time I watched it, which is more times than I can count by now. And while it's profane - as you can see in the clip below - it's also the film by the Coen brothers with the most heart. However - just to build up the suspense, it's not my favorite of theirs, and one more will appear on this list further up.

Just remember: the Dude abides.



Nex up: #8, about a man looking for something in the desert.

You know what happens...

...when there's a DVD shop about to close and they sell all their DVD's for 5 euro?

This happens:

- They Drive by Night (Walsh, 1940)
- My Man Godfrey (La Cava, 1936)
- De Battre mon Coeur s'est Arrêté (Audiard, 2005)
- Dirty Pretty Things (Frears, 2002)
- Adaptation (Jonze, 2002)

Top 50 - #10 - The Princess Bride

Is this a kissing book?

Yes, yes it is, a tale of true wuv, but it's so much more too. Yet I have a lot of trouble saying anything about it except that I cannot watch any part of it without immediately getting a huge grin on my face. Watching the whole movie means jaw cramps the next morning. Shall I try, anyway?

As you wish.

Half the time when I mention this movie, people think I'm talking about the Princess diaries. No, people, no! That doesn't have fencing and the dread pirate Roberts and R.O.U.S.es. That couldn't leave a little boy asking for more.

Grandpa: She doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time
The Grandson: What?
Grandpa: The eel doesn't get her. I'm explaining to to because you look nervous.
The Grandson: I wasn't nervous. Maybe I was a little bit "concerned" but that's not the same thing.

Maybe the best thing I can say about this movie is that I cannot pick a favorite part, not even a favorite character. I love the chemistry between Buttercup and Westley, but who can resist Wallace Shawn's "in-con-ceivable", or Fezzik, who's the prototypical brute but at the same time doesn't want his opponents to die embarrassed? Humperdinck and his six-fingered henchmen are wonderful, and then, off course:

Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

Inigo makes sure this movie isn't just all laughs and lightness: his pain for the loss of his father is real and as such grounds the movie just enough to make sure we keep caring. Through the whole movie, bubbly as it is, there is a cynical strain that you wouldn't quite expect. Consider what Westley says:

Life is pain, highness. Everyone who says differently is selling something.

Most movies have a certain demographic. I don't take my mom to see Kill Bill, nor my dad to see a romantic comedy, nor my little brother or sister to an obscure arthouse classic. This film, however, truly has something for everyone, and though I know there are people out there who don't like it, I'm just gonna go ahead and ignore their existence.

The Grandson: Grandpa, maybe you could come over and read it again to me tomorrow.
Grandpa: As you wish.



Next up: #9, featuring nihilists, cut-off toes, and bowling.