2005 and my inevitable foray into listmaking

Always late to the party, that’s me. So this week, after all the bigshots have filed and discussed their lists and generally moved on, I’m going to be running through the previous year in movies, with missives on my favorites, my least favorites, prominent motifs and a look to the future.

My Favorite Movies of 2005

When I started writing this, I initially titled it “The Best Movies of 2005.” But that’s not accurate. I have no idea what the “best” movies of this year, or any other year, are. I suspect, in fact, that no does. AFI can make all the top 100 lists it wants, but the label “best” is far too vague to be terribly useful. There are, as far as I’m aware, no rigid criteria that one can use to judge “best” movies (or any other artform) in anything remotely approaching a universally agreed upon manner, so I’d caution against anyone who claims to have all the answers. Or even several of them.

That said, there were some movies that I quite enjoyed this year. As several critics have pointed out, despite the failings of the box office, 2005 was quite a good year for movie fans. I’ve made my list in order of preference (with my favorite film at the end), but with the caveat that on any given day the order might have been (or might turn out to be) different. So here are my favorite films, the ones that struck a personal chord, the ones that seemed to have been crafted with the deepest, most layered emotional or intellectual textures, the ones that thrilled me and delivered gleeful jolts of rollicking entertainment with the overwhelming fury that can only be summoned by the best of the silver screen. Where applicable, I've included links to my reviews of the films in question.

The Aristocrats: A.O. Scott had it right when he referred to this film as an essay. A riotous, precisely-edited take on the world’s bawdiest joke, the film is far more than a collection of clever euphemisms and naughty offenses; it’s a detailed and delicious diagnostic of the art of joke telling -- a treatise on the pernicious humor of wildly vulgar language.

Land of the Dead, Serenity, Batman Begins, Sin City: For those of us who relate to this trailer far more than we’d like to admit, 2005 was a very good year. Each of these films is a better than solid entry into its respective genre; Land of the Dead a frightening, sickening and tense bit of socially-aware zombie horror; Serenity a delightfully light-footed and clever sci-fi romp; Batman Begins very nearly the gloomy, serious superhero movie every Dark Knight reader imagined; and Sin City the gold standard in brutal adolescent noir.

Munich: I feel as if I should reject this film, but I can’t. It’s simply too overwhelming, too pointed and too immaculately crafted to forget. Its human sympathy for terrorists isn’t quite the attempt to legitimize their actions that some have suggested, but it certainly borders on the reprehensible. And true, it’s not likely that the Mossad agents involved in assasination ops would have been so wracked by unbearable guilt. But despite all this, Spielberg and Kushner offer a gripping take on the psychological scars of necessary, moral violence that is simply too well-made for me not to include.

Broken Flowers, Funny Ha-Ha, Capote: Sadness comes in many forms, from subdued middle-aged despair to buried, vainglorious panic to quarter-life uncertainty. These three films showcase individuals at various life stages dealing with the sort of undefined, inwardly-focused, insurmountable longing and uncertainty that is a defining characteristic of contemporary life. Whether in Andrew Bujalski’s cast of trip-tongued youngsters, Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s selfish quest for writerly fame, or Bill Murray’s eerily still, silent Don Johnston, each provides a glimpse into a life (or lives) desperately groping for purpose amidst the fog of life's ephemeral chaos.

King Kong, War of the Worlds: Despite those moronic prequels, which may or may not show up on my Worst of 2005 list, we are all George Lucas’ children now, and nowhere is this more evident than in these two mammoth, overpowering films. Peter Jackson and Steven Spielberg are auteurs of spectacle with the power to dazzle and wow, utterly enveloping us in fantasy – all without sacrificing character – like no other working filmmakers. True, both of these films have problems: Kong’s first hour should have been cut to 20 minutes; World’s final scene undoes most of the film’s earlier emotional impacts. But by and large, they’re both on target for most of their running time, and they are without question two of the most ballsy, brain-rattling entertainments to grace the big screen in a long time.

A History of Violence: David Cronenberg breaks down both social and genre trappings in this eloquently violent tale of despairing revenge. While the film lacks the literal flesh-stripping and psychosexual terror of The Fly or Dead Ringers, it nonetheless pierces the derma of both societal structures and individual civility, exposing the thin-skinned layers that enclose man’s essential ferocity.

The Squid and the Whale: No, I didn’t grow up in New York and I’m not a child of divorce, but more than perhaps any other film, this movie bores an agonizingly direct opening into the heartache and anguish that occur when the brilliant-but-fallible start families together. It’s a tragedy of a great family, fractured and broken by individual weakness. Jeff Bridges, especially, gives the year’s best performance, as a strong-willed, intellectually superior man whose fragile nature is exposed and further undone by his sad, self-lacerating choices.

Other notables: Constantine, Downfall, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Syriana, Good Night, and Good Luck, Ong-Bak, In Good Company, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Movies I didn’t see due to my generally dormant, listless spirit that might have made this list: 2046, Match Point, The New World, Will Eggleston in the Real World, Grizzly Man, The Girl From Tuesday.