My 10 Favorite Films of the Decade, 2000-2009

10. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (Wes Anderson, 2004) – I’m well aware that Anderson’s cult following has always preferred The Royal Tenenbaums (that’s lower on my list of 50), but I think all his films remain open to argument. Of course, his filmography warrants a more in-depth study, but I think the important thing is how one relates to each specific film. Those who just yap about his visual or writing style are often engaging in copycat behavior, trying to win a spot in the imaginary cool crowd of film snobs. (Or even worse, they just say, “Royal Tenenbaums is so awesome,” but fail to provide any explanation.) What I’m saying is, I related very much to Steve Zissou. That isn’t remarkable in itself, but more because Anderson managed to make an older man’s midlife crisis seem relatable to men in their 20s. Aside from the amazing (yet standard, in Anderson’s work) soundtrack and cinematography, my favorite element was the pairing of childlike exploration and endurance, with the failure, loss, and regret that comes with adulthood. Obviously that two-part element is present in all Anderson’s films, but the way it played out here spoke to me.

9. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (Larry Charles, 2006) – I tire very quickly when people start complaining about staging or repetition in the guerrilla satire of Sacha Baron Cohen. As far as I’m concerned, all three characters born on Da Ali G Show are priceless, and this type of work should be present in far greater quantities today. We live in really fucked up times, and in the gradient of what we call “society” and “culture,” we somehow convince ourselves that we’re more advanced, more peaceful, and more accepting than we really are. America isn’t the only place where that’s true, but it’s obviously the easiest target. And since America is the figurehead for Western Civilization, it’s the most necessary target. People don’t like having their weaknesses pointed out, but Borat is a secret weapon built for that very purpose. While he does examine ongoing prejudice (ethnic and religious), homophobia, and other failings in the U.S., he also points out the same in Borat’s homeland. He’s anti-Semitic, but he’s friendly to everyone until he learns that they’re Jewish. He hugs, kisses, and wrestles with men, but avoids the word “gay” like a disease. He thinks America is awesome, mostly because of Hollywood and MTV — but the scariest part is that millions of Americans build their collective self-image from the very same sources.

8. Little Miss Sunshine (Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris, 2006) – The perfect one-line description for this film would be National Lampoon’s Vacation crossed with The Royal Tenenbaums, and even a TV Guide-style synopsis sums up its greatness: A family of four has just taken in grandpa (who was ejected from the senior home for snorting heroin) and an uncle (who just attempted suicide after his younger lover left him for his professional nemesis). Young Olive has, by a stroke of luck, been invited to the regional finals for the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant for girls. They don’t have the money to fly her to California, so they decide to drive in the old VW bus, including a mute teenage son obsessed with Nietzsche and flight school, a father who can’t sell his self-help system, and a mother who’s considering divorce over financial stress. What ensues is both hilarious and heart-breaking, and it demonstrates the fact that, no matter how crazy your family is, they’re really all you have.

7. Garden State (Zach Braff, 2004) – Perhaps the timeliest film of the decade, Braff’s debut as writer/director had a lot going for it. The soundtrack (hand-picked by Braff) accelerated the indie music revolution that occurred between 2002-2006, and the younger audience members could easily identify with a character who had been medicated by his father since childhood to avoid the ensuing pain of life. This generation grew up surrounded by diagnoses of ADHD, anxiety, and depression, and the endless pharmaceuticals prescribed for treatment. But we found that music can pull you through just about anything. We never stopped hoping for romance to round out the sharp edges of day-to-day life. And we learned to scream loud and clear into the abyss when all else fails.

6. A History of Violence (David Cronenberg, 2005): Definitely the most bookish entry on my top ten, this slow-paced film starts off as a story of mistaken identity, and deliberately builds into a study of the primal violence that lurks just beneath the surface of everyday life. It actually reminds me of a Henry Miller quote (discussed here previously): “I blush to think of our origins–our hands are steeped in blood and crime. And there is no letup to the slaughter and the pillage, as I discovered first hand traveling throughout the length and breadth of the land. Down to the closest friend every man is a potential murderer” (pp. 287-288, Tropic of Capricorn). History seems to demonstrate that violence is part of who we are, without drawing any conclusions about that fact. Perhaps the only suggestion is that we should fully recognize it and try to come to terms with it — instead of pretending that violence only exists in history books and the news.

5. Blow (Ted Demme, 2001): Without a doubt, my favorite aspect of this film is the wisdom conveyed by George Jung, an everyman who, in the 1970s, “created the market” for cocaine in America. And I’d like to think that he actually said some of these things, if only in interviews with the filmmakers (the real Jung is shown in the DVD special features, speaking about how much he treasures the film). Of all his offerings, I think most about the idea that our lives consist of perfect phases — not just moments or days, but indefinite stretches of time. About three times throughout the film, he ends a segment by declaring, “…And it was perfect.” I’d also like to believe that George Jung is actually as nice as Johnny Depp makes him out to be — so nice that the guys who eventually rat him out feel terrible for doing it. It’s ironic then that George Jung was probably one of the biggest inspirations for America’s War on Drugs, which began in the ’80s. Yeah, he was supplying drug cartels, and cocaine isn’t exactly a safe drug — but Jung never hurt anyone deliberately (physically or otherwise). He’s just a brave, creative entrepreneur with a childhood fear of being poor.

4. Napoleon Dynamite (Jared Hess, 2004): My brother (who graduated from high school in 2006) saw this film in the theaters at least five times, all before I saw it once. In a way I think it spoke directly to that age group, but Napoleon was a breath of Idaho-fresh air that the whole film industry desperately needed. (Of course, the industry needs about 50 more of those now. Things have gotten so stale…) I think Napoleon felt really real to anyone who grew up in America’s low-density suburbs in the ’90s — partly because it took a few viewings to figure out that it took place in present time…and not in 1991. The truth is, a lot of us grew up with podunk stuff happening in our homes, in our neighborhoods, or in our schools. I built shitty bike ramps, I had random toys or action figures that carried way too much significance, and I definitely made keychains and other doo-dabs out of those weird plastic beads. And I’ll admit that I’ve played a game or two of tetherball by myself, when nobody was around to join me. This is a pure original — but it still escapes me how Jon Heder built a semblance of a film career afterwards.

3. Snatch (Guy Ritchie, 2000): After Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and this one, it seemed like Guy Ritchie might churn out the same kind of underground London crime flicks again and again. And while Revolver and Rock ‘n Rolla weren’t departures in subject material, they definitely were experiments in presentation. Still, Snatch is the fist-sized diamond of the bunch — an inimitable action run-around filled with dark humor that gets more enjoyable with each view. The story, performances, cinematography, and soundtrack are all at peak levels — and somehow they all play off of each other in ways that Ritchie might have never even predicted. One perfect film moment that comes to mind is when Mickey O’Neil (played by Brad Pitt in one of his most memorable roles ever) glares savagely at his mother’s camper as it burns down with mum asleep inside. As the flames dance in his eyes, you can practically see the torn flesh of his enemies as he plots his revenge. All the while, Massive Attack’s foreboding trip-hop classic “Angel” pulses in the background. And suddenly this light-hearted fight over a big gem turns into something much heavier. I get goosebumps just thinking about it!

2. Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly, 2001): Much more than Guy Ritchie, it seems that Richard Kelly will be hoping to surpass Donnie Darko for the next few decades (if he continues to make films that long). It’s an artist’s tragedy, really — to get it so right the first time that you eclipse your own chances of toeing a steady creative path. (Colin Wilson’s book The Outsider comes to mind. In the introduction to an edition from the ’80s, he wrote that T.S. Eliot told him he got famous too quickly. Instead, said Eliot, it’s better to develop an audience slowly, while avoiding sensationalism.) For better or worse, Kelly’s first film managed to achieve Kubrickian status. I’m referring to 2001: A Space Odyssey in particular, since both films are endlessly captivating and yet impossible to completely understand or explain. Darko contains a well-measured mix of teenage alienation, science fiction (inspired largely by Stephen Hawking), psychological horror, ’80s tributes (“nostalgia” isn’t the right word, despite all the songs from that decade and nods to Spielberg and Zemeckis), and even romance. It’s been said that Napoleon Dynamite was a hero for unpopular teenagers — but Donnie Darko was a superhero for adults with a variety of borderline neuroses and a constant existential burden. But it’s clear to me that I’ll need to return to Darko for a much longer exploration, so stay tuned for that.

1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004): I very much disliked Eternal Sunshine when I saw it in the theater in the spring of 2004, which is to say that I wasn’t ready for it. I was still far too conventional in my movie consumption, too unexposed to the world of abstract art, and too optimistic about life and love. Now every time I watch the film I think of a quote from Candide: “…Is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away, to loathe one’s very being and yet to hold it fast, to fondle the snake that devours us until it has eaten our hearts away?” I watched this film about three to five times a week during August of 2005, by which point I could relate to — and, therefore, understand — the story much more. What it boils down to is the most naked and truthful portrayal of modern love that I’ve ever seen. In that regard it’s the exact opposite of The Notebook (which was actually released in the same year, and — I’m not ashamed to admit — came in at #16 in my decade list). The Notebook is mostly fantasy; Eternal Sunshine is mostly reality — and it’s strange to say that, since most of the film takes place inside Joel Barish’s head, as his memories of a failed relationship are erased one by one. It took me about 30 viewings before I could understand every detail of the plot sequencing, but ultimately that factor is just as important as Charlie Kaufman’s ideas and Michel Gondry’s direction. Of course, the most vital elements are the unforgettable performances by Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. Every time I watch it, I go through every emotion and experience with them. It all reflects off of my own life, and never comes out quite the same. But I’m always left with a heavy sadness in the final scene as they run down a snowy Montauk beach, hand in hand, and the image skips back and repeats a few times before finally fading to black. I can’t help but think, are we doomed to repeat our mistakes? Will we ever realize the love in front of us, around us, within us? I sure hope so…