FILM FEATURE: DON SIMPSON'S TOP TEN FILMS OF 2013

Jep (Toni Servillo) in The Great Beauty.

One man's opinion is another person's read

By Don Simpson

I have an extremely difficult time ranking films that share no common elements other than they were all shot on a medium that captures both moving images and sound. I guess there are certain basic mechanisms of filmmaking that can be done well or poorly, for the most part it is all just the personal opinion of the critic. I prefer to approach the discussion of cinema in terms of whether or not a certain film works for me; whether it is interesting and stimulating, whether it does something new and exciting with the cinematic medium.

So, below are ten films (in alphabetical order) that reverberated in my mind as the most interesting and/or exciting from 2013.

12 Years a Slave – In his triad of films (Hunger, Shame, 12 Years a Slave) about human pain and suffering, Steve McQueen observes the relationships between punishment and dehumanization. These films are fully immersed, psychological studies of crumbling human fortitude. For American viewers, 12 Years a Slave also packs a crushing wallop of historical guilt, as McQueen’s outsider perspective invites us to learn from our nation’s past mistakes and inform our future with those lessons.

Computer Chess – The ensemble’s propensity for philosophizing is reminiscent of Richard Linklater’s Slacker; but, whereas Linklater’s film ruminates upon the existential crises of humans, Andrew Bujalski’s Computer Chess expounds upon the existential crises of synthetic consciousness. All the while, Bujalski achieves an ultimate level of realism by enlisting a cast of computer savvy actors who at least seem like they know what they’re rambling on about. The production design is the real show-stopper though.

The Great Beauty – Watching The Great Beauty prompts me to daydream about what types of films Federico Fellini would have made in the 21st century. While this particular film owes a great debt to the work of Fellini (specifically La Dolce Vita), the sensory overload of the visuals is much more akin to Baz Luhrmann. Beneath the shock and awe campaign of the assault on the senses, Paolo Sorrentino meditates upon happiness, love, sex, art, aging and death; also contemplating the significance of theology, history, economics and politics in our everyday lives.

Pilgrim Song -- Martha Stephens is never condescending or patronizing of her characters, yet she never romanticizes them either. Stephens casts highly naturalistic actors and places them in scenes alongside real people; she captures their stories as if shooting a documentary, allowing the narratives to breath while unfolding naturally and organically. Her unabashed desire to capture the purist possible realism is akin to the tone, pacing and visual aesthetic of Kelly Reichardt’s Old Joy and Wendy & Lucy. Reichardt is certainly someone with whom Stephens shares a fondness for what has come to be known as “slow cinema.”

The Selfish Giant – Borrowing her film’s title from Oscar Wilde children’s fable, writer-director Clio Barnard utilizes the fantastic milieu of a landscape that is perpetually shrouded in the misty grayness of a fairytale to convey the brutally grim reality of this story. Barnard then uses the social realism techniques of Ken Loach and Alan Clarke to ensure that the audience comprehends the true levels of authenticity within this story.

Short Term 12 – On paper, Short Term 12 may sound like a schlocky, feel-good Hollywood movie and that could not be further from the truth. The scenarios and conversations within Destin Cretton’s film shimmer with a high level of authenticity, due in no small part to the amazing ensemble cast and impeccable writing. Brie Larson, for one, is astounding; proving herself to be one of the most talented twenty-something actors working today.

Stories We Tell – We all tell stories. We all have our own unique perspectives and interpretations of events. There is no absolute Truth. Everything is filtered through the various lenses of our past and present. Director Sarah Polley approaches Stories We Tell knowing full well that stories are just that: stories.

Sun Don’t Shine – Building upon the already nightmarish elements of the narrative, Sun Don’t Shine unfolds with the oblique stream of consciousness of a dream — such as when Terrence Malick-esque voiceovers follow the characters’ thoughts as they are lulled into daydreams by the ephemeral rhythms and patterns of the roadside imagery and the unbearably balmy Florida air. Sun Don’t Shine refuses to abide by a traditional narrative structure; the road movie elements are not used to propel the narrative forward, but to trap Crystal and Leo in a smothering and smoldering incapacious space. Their car is like a prison cell with an ever-changing view of the real/reel world; the car windows function like movie screens, dangling carrots of perceived freedom and success just out of Crystal and Leo’s reach.

Upstream Color – Functioning as writer, director, producer, cinematographer, composer, and editor, Shane Carruth is the epitome of the modern day auteur. No matter how confusing and frustrating Upstream Color may be, there is no denying the amazingly singular artistic vision that produced this film. Echoing the godlike control that is held over the film’s test subjects, Carruth is the grand creator and chief inquisitor of this uniquely cinematic world.

Welcome to Pine Hill – Welcome to Pine Hill provides the most naturally positive portrayal of a black character that I have ever seen dedicated to film — and I am incredibly embarrassed to say that if I knew that a white guy directed Welcome to Pine Hill, I probably would not have even bothered watching it. But the outsider perspective actually works in writer-director Keith Miller’s favor, and it certainly helps matters that he avoids all of Hollywood’s racial stereotypes. Most importantly, Miller does not approach Welcome to Pine Hill as a direct discussion of race; though he understands that our world is far from being colorblind and race-related issues are inescapable.


Honorable mentions: The Act of Killing; After Tiller; Ain’t Them Bodies Saints; All is Lost; Blackfish; Blue Is the Warmest Color; Concussion; Dirty Wars; Frances Ha; Her; In the House; I Used to Be Darker; Mother of George; Mud; Pilgrim Song; Post Tenebras Lux; Simon Killer

 

 

FILM REVIEW: UPSTREAM COLOR

Jeff (Shane Carruth) and Kris (Amy Seimetz) in Upstream Color.

Much ado about something

By Don Simpson

Writer-director Shane Carruth's Upstream Color is a fully immersing experience that questions the way in which we perceive the world. A head trip of sound and vision, the meanings and intentions of Upstream Color are impossibly oblique. There is only one thing that is for certain -- there is nothing absolute about Upstream Color, so what follows are merely my interpretations of the on-screen events.

Our transcendental journey begins at a nursery where pale, maggot-like insects are collected from the soil of orchids. The insects are carefully separated and dropped into jars depending on whether they are healthy or dead. Presumably bearing psychotropic characteristics, the healthy insects are soaked in a liquid which is then willingly consumed by a group of young test subjects. While under the powerful influence of the insects, the test subjects showcase superhuman reflexes and powers of mental telepathy.

What appears to be a research study is then escalated to the direct consumption of the insects. One such test subject, Kris (Amy Seimetz), is force-fed the creepy crawly insect by a kidnapper (Thiago Martins). The strange psychotropic qualities of the insect place Kris under a hypnotic haze which can be controlled by the kidnapper. When Kris finally becomes conscious again, she is left poor and jobless, suffering from PTSD.

Kris eventually meets Jeff (Carruth), with whom she seems to share a unique kinship. They both try to decipher their blurry pasts, slowly fitting the puzzle pieces of their memories together. Henry David Thoreau's Walden serves as the cornerstone of Kris' memories and an existential key for both of them.

Parallel to the story of Kris and Jeff is the tale of a rancher (Andrew Sensenig) whose pigs begin to develop strange qualities. This mysterious man is also somehow connected to the insect research and is seemingly able to transport himself -- via energy from his pigs -- like a ghost into the worlds of the unknowing subjects of the research. Presumably their memorization of Walden eventually leads the test subjects to this man's farm, where they learn to work collectively for the good of their community. Or something like that...

Upstream Color begs to be compared and contrasted with Thoreau's Walden. Both narratives evolve into social experiments, though they seem to have different opinions on individualism versus collectivism. Additionally, both stories revolve around the human connection with nature. Also the shedding of wealth and possessions to free oneself plays a major role in both Upstream Color and Walden, although in the former it is not by choice. Carruth's film also echoes the concepts of Buddhism, discussing the cycle of life and the inter-connectivity of all living creatures. Then, on another plane of existence, Upstream Color tells the story of the psychological turmoil resulting from a kidnapping and the overcoming of the resulting crippling stress and paranoia.

Functioning as writer, director, producer, actor, cinematographer, composer, and editor, Carruth is the epitome of the modern day auteur. No matter how confusing and frustrating Upstream Color may be, there is no denying the amazingly singular artistic vision that produced this film. Echoing the godlike control that is held over the film's test subjects, Carruth is the grand creator and chief inquisitor of this uniquely cinematic world.