By Elliot Boswell
1. No Country For Old Men -Why is Ridley Scott directing "Blood Meridian?" I think the Coen Brothers proved with this one that they're tailor-made for Cormac McCarthy adaptations, and to give it to anyone else seems misguided at best. "No Country" is a bleak, brutal tale of a drug deal gone wrong, with Josh Brolin as the sap who thinks he can get away with $2 million in cash and Javier Bardem as the merciless force of nature who pursues him. Everything is shrouded in ambiguity: there are no "a-ha!" moments here. Every single scene is constructed with utmost care - I'm thinking of one particularly brilliant one in which utter terror is induced merely by the unscrewing of a light bulb. A cold-blooded exercise in filmmaking perfection.
2. There Will Be Blood - It's strange that a film with such colossal flaws could be so magnificent. Adapted from the Upton Sinclair novel "Oil!", Paul Thomas Anderson has put together a distinctly American epic about the clash between two distinctly American forces: capitalism and evangelicalism. Daniel Day-Lewis's seismic performance as oilman Daniel Plainview has been compared to the best of Laurence Olivier, and more than makes up for Paul Dano's relatively lackluster turn as self-proclaimed prophet Eli Sunday. The film builds until it can no longer contain itself and explodes in the only way it can; that is, the most bizarre way. While it doesn't have nearly the formalist genius of "No Country," I predict a longer shelf life.
3. Juno -As soon as the scribbly indie titles popped up and the seemingly precious dialogue started, I thought I was going to hate it. But after the first half hour or so, the film really began to grow on me and, as you can tell from this list, I ended up loving it. Ellen Page gives a remarkable performance as the pregnant title character: She takes a role that could easily have been another sarcastic teenage reject and makes her funny and self-conscious and acerbic and heartbreaking all at once. And it's about time that there is a sympathetic portrayal of a teenager's parents who respond to the situation as lovingly (if a little wryly) as many of us hope our own parents would. There are many instances in which this hilarious and touching film could trip itself up, and it never does.
4. I'm Not There - Todd Haynes takes an ambitious, collage approach towards one of the 20th century's biggest icons in his multi-faceted look at the numerous self-reinventions of Bob Dylan. There is definitely a positive correlation between how well you know Dylan and how much you enjoy the film - in fact, I'd say that both "Don't Look Back" and "No Direction Home" are required viewing beforehand, as I recognized some scenes lifted from them. The performances are all good, but Cate Blanchette is especially excellent as the nervy, "Blonde on Blonde"-era Dylan. And the music is obviously the greatest thing since ... well, ever.
5. Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street - Seriously not funny. It being a musical and all, I was expecting the blood, gore and general murder to be done with a wink and a nod, and while it wasn't visually convincing, the murderous emotions were certainly present. Tim Burton nails a grim, 19th century London like no other current director could have done, Johnny Depp is taut and riveting as the vengeful barber, and Alan Rickman is appropriately Snape-esque as his rival. Sondheim's score is dark and jarring, plenty of throats are cut along the way, and there really isn't any redemption at the end. Which I bet really turned off the Broadway-going crowd - I wish I could have been there when my high school drama teacher saw it.
Honorable Mention
Superbad - Apparently, this was the year of Judd Apatow. After getting a sleeper hit with "Knocked Up," Apatow follows with this one, starring Jonah Hill and Michael Cera. Forget the crude (though hilarious) sex-'n-booze jokes: This is a tender look at the close bond between two friends and their fear of losing it. Fresh out of high school ourselves, most of us can relate.
Bust of the Year
Across the Universe - All the visual dazzle in the world can't save this "musical" from its own ridiculousness. But the film's biggest crime isn't its hackneyed dialogue or clichéd cinematic motifs: it's the utter lack of self-referential parody that was such a part of The Beatles. Oh, and the Fab Four references? Introduced with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. And when the main character (Jude) is followed like the Pied Piper through the streets of Liverpool by a crowd of people singing (surprise! "Hey Jude"), you begin to realize that no one but Lennon and Co. can pull their stuff off.
