Not Coming to a Theater Near You | 2005 in review

by Chiranjit Goswami

Top 10 Films of 2005

1 Caché Michael Haneke

Disguised as a video-surveillance thriller, Haneke’s film is far more interested in contemplating hidden prejudice, personal denial, and national guilt. It’s also another of Haneke’s habitual exercises in shaking inert viewers out of their comfort and requiring the audience to actively engage in the images he presents them. Falsely accused as another display of Western-fault, the film simply requests recognition of prior immature transgressions tainted by intolerance—an action with potential value given recent events. Caché exhibits the vast capability of the cinema when filmmakers attempt to extend the margins of perspective and examine all media. Its merger of reality, memory, dreams, and imagination simultaneously critiques all involved parties for their passive voyeuristic positions, including Haneke—who appears to believe Welles’ assertion that the camera is a critic. Of course, Haneke’s opinion of Godard’s assertion that cinema is truth at 24 frames per second may be far more complicated.

2 A History of Violence David Cronenberg

Cronenberg’s confounding chronicle of our inability to deny or conceal our inherent brutality is frequently graphic, but certainly novel. Cronenberg skillfully presents the ambiguous nature of violence, understanding both the satisfactory purpose and detrimental results of aggression. His frequently funny neo-western enthusiastically undermines the naive stance of hawk or dove, delivering shocking rebuke moments after allowing fulfillment. Functioning as enigmatic enactment that fascinates rather than redundant ideological manifesto, the film’s success is apparent in the decidedly diverse reactions it causes while navigating the border between condemnation and endorsement.

3 The Wayward Cloud Tsai Ming-Liang

Tsai’s latest film contains quite honestly the most devastating final sequence I have witnessed at a theatre since Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream, though instead of sensory overload, Tsai conversely succeeds in coercing viewers to thoroughly contemplate his characteristic unbroken takes. Here he is alarmingly unflinching as he constructs a disturbingly amoral situation that contrasts not only with his film’s deliriously delightful musical numbers and its absurdly hilarious deadpan soft-core, but also with his characteristically distinctive elegiac content. Unfortunately the moral complexity and conflicting sensation created by his cathartic climax will probably prohibit Tsai’s film from ever receiving distribution in North America. Tsai’s choice to demolish the isolating barriers he once imposed upon desire is far more abrasive than any collision his characters conduct to quench their physical and sexual thirst. His film also includes the year’s most inventive visual technique: a camera placed in the corner of a corridor, somehow implying potential connection within his natural split-screen. Plus, how can we deny the appeal of a musical involving watermelon, pornography, and drought?

4 The Squid and the Whale Noah Baumbach

I mistakenly assumed Baumbach’s dysfunctional semi-autobiography would be the refuse of Wes Anderson’s whimsical artifice. Instead it’s agonizingly honest American filmmaking regarding masculine ineptitude that reveals just how lowbrow literary intellectuals can sink while trying to maintain their highbrow significance. It’s also substantial evidence that sports metaphors, animal imagery, and the 180° rule remain worthwhile cinematic tools. Even though I am not a child of divorce, it’s downright distressing how familiar some of these adolescent scenarios feel. Hopefully, I will never advise my eldest son that this film is only minor Baumbach while ignoring my youngest son’s declaration that he is a philistine.

5 Good Night, and Good Luck George Clooney

Far less abstract than Haneke’s Caché, but suitably more modest in technique, Clooney’s endeavor is just as severe in its condemnation of television’s voluntary decline. Clooney’s report on Edward R. Murrow’s struggle against Senator McCarthy’s brutish tactics is a smooth polished American parable that thankfully limits its scope and enthusiasm to the profession of journalism, instead of distracting us with personal details. Perhaps incorrectly labeled as pure hagiography, this portrait of Murrow is far more balanced in shades of grey once we recognize Clooney is targeting an institution and its viewers, who both appear content to distract themselves with amusement rather than substance.

6 Broken Flowers Jim Jarmusch

Another instance of this year’s recurring theme of faulty fathers, Jarmusch’s paternal road-trip through pockets of America’s social strata is a sedated restrained reminder that time inhibits repair. While portraying an affable bachelor unable to grasp the effect of his existence as he visits the aftermath of his love-life, Murray’s worn and weary expression finds its most comfortable climate since Rushmore. Jarmusch and Murray excel at making the small details seem significant, allowing their character and audience to experience a mutual sense of awkward connection with the various women Don discarded. Once Jarmusch encircles Don we realize this elusive opportunity to overcome the daunting distance he deliberately constructed within his lethargic life may have arrived too late to make a difference.

7 Dave Chappelle's Block Party Michel Gondry

Chappelle declares his boisterous bash and to be a “celebration, bitches,” but it feels more like a cultural festival rather than a narcissistic party. Documenting Chappelle’s efforts to throw a block party in Brooklyn, Gondry gently illuminates the everyday struggles of urban Black America using hip-hop culture, Chappelle’s hysterical comedy, and vibrant digital video as his method of delivery. For a demographic minority that is arguably losing its political influence within contemporary America the celebration of community is a display of support, collaboration, and unity. For a director renowned for his visual ingenuity, Gondry’s colorful concert film is surprisingly humble, but brilliantly enthusiastic, joyous, and liberating.

8 Me and You and Everyone We Know Miranda July

I usually discard films that attempt to be so exasperatingly precious. However, July’s peculiar debut regarding the frustrating and sublime nature of connection evades the usual transgressions of the overly adorable by persistently trudging through both the uncomfortable and the grotesque. She is also aided considerably by the sincere performance of John Hawkes, who portrays a man unable to understand how infuriating his genuinely tender nature can be to those he adores. However, I’m much less enthusiastic about Brandon Ratcliff’s performance, despite the raves it has received, and I’m utterly exhausted by the lengths to which July stretches her internet-poop gag.

9 L’Enfant The Dardenne Brothers

Another exquisitely emotional, startling simulation of reality using the Dardennes’ trademark verité style. As always we anxiously follow behind our imperfect protagonist unaware of his motivations and strategies, and we watch a frail female faint when confronted with the morality of the male she has chosen as mate. Once again an uncomfortable tension builds because of our familiarity with the cruelty of the surrounding world, yet the potential for decency and virtue persists. That the Dardennes are able to create another intensely honest experience so naturally from the most basic film grammar is a demonstration of their faith in cinema. However, it is a minor misstep to extend their inquiry past their required conclusion. Once Bruno makes his decision to take care of the child he has truly raised in his own image, we understand his maturation is complete. His decision to sacrifice himself and accept the punishment for his crime only emphasizes this point. However, by the time the brothers present their admittedly moving, though rather redundant coda, it becomes apparent that the Dardennes have become exceedingly attached to their inspirations. That their central influences are a cinematic saint such as Bresson and a sacred scribe such as Dostoevsky does not place the Dardennes above reproach, though such a slight stumble is easily forgivable.

10 Grizzly Man Werner Herzog

Herzog’s latest examination not only of our illusionary authority over nature, but also of our constant miscalculation of our position within the civilization we have deliberately constructed, gently exposes/exploits the hubris entangled within Timothy Treadwell’s earnest intentions. It also provided this year’s purest moment of comedy, as Herzog mischievously followed Treadwell’s intimate confession of his painful solitude with footage of Timothy directing his girlfriend to stay out of his shot in order to maintain the lone-wolf persona he had so carefully calculated. However, I remain concerned that the death of Amie Huguenard seems to be relegated to a discarded detail.

Honorable Mentions:

Genuine Entertainment:

Finally, this year’s most courageous piece of film-related writing had to be Stanley Cavell’s letter to Chris Chang in defense of Mr. & Mrs. Smith in Film Comment, entitled “Falling in Love Again.”

← Return to Feature Index

Return to Site Index