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A Year in Film: 2012

2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | Essays/Reviews

What follows are my OCD attempts to list and rate every movie I watch in any given year. (I've done the same for my year's reading in the book log.) Given that I watch some relatively obscure films, I've set it up so that the film title links to the IMDb page for the film so you can get more information easily.

Starting in 2009, I began assigning out star ratings (out of five stars) to films I've watched. Five stars is equivalent to an A, 4½ to an A-/B+, four to a B, and so on.

 

2-8 State of
Play (2003)
 In the first moments of State of Play, a riveting BBC 6-episode miniseries, a young black man is shot in the head by someone who certainly gives off every impression of being a professional assassin. Meanwhile, a Parliament member finds out that his research assistant was found dead on the subway tracks, an apparent suicide. From these two humble beginnings spawns an intricately complex and fascinating story, one that's told so ridiculously well that it's all but impossible to quit watching once you've started. Although State of Play features dozens of key players, its main focus is on the reporters who are digging into this story from every angle and slowly unearthing the connections that are tying it all together. Make no doubt about it, the central story here is compelling, and even if the rest of the series wasn't great, it would be compulsively watchable. But what really makes State of Play so fascinating is the immersion into the world of these reporters - its immersion into deadlines, and sources, and scoops, and more. Of course, it doesn't hurt that you have such a phenomenal cast playing the parts, with several faces who went on to far bigger things over time, but all creating vivid, complex characters who truly come to life over these six episodes. (Still, even with all the great characters, there's no way I can't single out the always great Bill Nighy for his sardonic, steely performance as the chief editor; it's also not hard to see even this early in his career that James MacAvoy was destined for great things.) Part political thriller, part drama, part mystery, State of Play tells a rich, complex story, but does so while never neglecting the characterization or the world-building that makes it truly feel like something that could have been filmed as a documentary rather than being performed. It's phenomenal television, and I'm kind of kicking myself for not watching it before. (One brief and irritating postscript: I was five episodes into this when I discovered that BBC America, who re-ran the series when I recorded it, apparently edits their episodes drastically for length, cutting as much as ten minutes from each episode, which in turn means that I missed out on almost an hour of this series. I feel like that much lost time almost demands a rewatch at some point, and it's something I may have to do once I pick up the series myself. Still, I feel like I saw the series enough to be enthralled; I'm more frustrated that I was cheated out of almost an hour of the show with no disclaimer or note.)
2-4 Fright Night (1985)
 There's nothing really wrong with Fright Night. It's got a good premise (a variation on Rear Window where a teenager becomes convinced that his neighbor is a vampire), generally good, solid performances (with the actor playing "Evil Ed" as an exception), fun ideas, and some solid creature effects. It all adds up to a movie that doesn't really have much wrong with it...but at the same time, it never really does anything really well, either. The best horror films always have those immortal, unforgettable sequences or shots - the elevators in The Shining, the shower in Psycho, the dinner in Texas Chainsaw - that really get under your skin and stay there, and whether they scare you or just impress you, they're memorable. But Fright Night has none of these. The final act, which is basically a giant cat-and-mouse game in the vampire's house, should give us that, but there's nothing really special about it - it just feels like it's going through the motions. In the end, Fright Night is fine, but it's also entirely forgettable, and in many ways, that's the most damning criticism you can ever make of a film, I'd say.
2-4 Chronicle
(2012)
 Historically, January is a dumping ground for movies, a place where the studio tosses out stuff they know is going to flop anyways. And even in that field of dreck, Super Bowl weekend is reserved for the worst of the batch. I mention all of this to say that, going in, Chronicle seemed destined to be bad. A found footage film by a first-time director dumped on Super Bowl weekend? And yet, the reviews were good, the reactions strong, and my curiosity was piqued...and I'll be damned if Chronicle didn't by and large deliver. At its core, Chronicle is a superhero story, following three high schoolers as they share an experience that leaves them with powers they never dreamed of. The film's first half, charting the growth of those powers, is a blast - it channels that wish fulfillment part of superpowers better than any superhero film in recent memory, truly creating a sense of wonder and excitement about what these boys can while never neglecting the characters, making them interesting, sympathetic, and likable. And all of that is essential, because as the first half gives way to the second, the characters start to realize that having powers doesn't change who you are, and the film begins going to some far darker places. Chronicle can't have had much of a budget, but it does a lot with what it has, most notably in a spectacular third act that evokes Akira in a lot of ways. But the best thing about Chronicle is how nicely is constantly evokes that sense of wonder; while it stretches the found footage concept to its breaking point (and sometimes a little beyond), it uses it well, creating a mundane feel that's perfect as a juxtaposition for these amazing events. Chronicle isn't flawless, but few movies are; what it is, though, is ambitious, involving, smart, and genuinely exciting. It's the kind of film that's destined to find a cult following over time, and I'm thrilled for that; anything that encourages movies more like this, I'm all for.
2-3 Shame
(2011)
 A lot of the attention Shame is getting is due to its NC-17 rating, and there's no way you can argue the film doesn't deserve the rating; in telling the story of an emotionally damaged man who compulsively engages in sexual activity without gaining much joy from it all, the film necessarily depicts sexuality in a graphic and frank fashion, showing the activity while stripping it of just about anything appealing or erotic. But the film also argues nicely for the validity of the rating, given that Shame is a film that addresses adult subject matter in a mature, non-titillating way and does so thoughtfully and powerfully, creating a conversation that's far more appropriate for adults than anyone else. Much like director Steve McQueen's previous film, the incredible Hunger, Shame gains a lot of power from long takes, silent faces, and letting the actions and performances speak for themselves. Luckily, he's aided by the go-for-broke performance by Michael Fassbender, who creates a character so emotionally damaged that he's unable to form any semblance of a real relationship other than a sexual meeting. Evoking pain, isolation, compulsion, and rage in every scene, Fassbender's work here is amazing, and his willingness to bare all not only physically but emotionally is outstanding. He's matched by Carey Mulligan as his sister, who's every bit as damaged (albeit in a different way) and who's asked to bare no less, and she succeeds every bit as well as Fassbender - the scene where she sings a haunting, heartbreaking version of "New York, New York" is riveting for every second of its length, as her face tells you everything you need to know about her. In the end, for all its focus on sexual promiscuity, Shame is more a story about emotionally damaged people than it is about addicts, and its ability to evoke the sheer pain and isolation these people are feeling makes it one of the most compelling and draining cinematic experiences of the year.
2-3 The
American (2010)
 The American didn't do all that well at the box-office, which is no big surprise; with its nearly silent protagonist, conflicts far more about internal decisions than external action, and a strongly character-oriented story for a movie about a weapons designer for assassins on the run after a job gone wrong, The American is the kind of film that will probably find more appreciation among the arthouse crowd than the multiplexes. But given that movies like this are right in my wheelhouse, I found a lot to love here. In his review, Roger Ebert invokes Le Samourai, and the comparison is apt; in his performance, Clooney plays a man whose nearly silent demeanor leaves him to be defined by his actions, giving the reader the task of attempting to crack through his thick facade. The plotting is simple here, but the characters are incredibly rich and well-portrayed; from the well-meaning village priest to the (absurdly beautiful) prostitute who becomes Clooney's sole attachment, the cast all acquits themselves beautifully. But this is Clooney's movie, and his presence serves him well here, fascinating us with this enigma of a man. In many ways, The American feels like a film that might fit in better in the 1970s than today, but that's okay; given my love for films of that era and quiet, hardened characters like this, The American is the kind of movie that's all but designed for me, so it should be no surprise that I liked it a hell of a lot.
2-3 Highlander (1986)
 Many people love this movie, apparently; after all, it spawned three sequels and a TV show, so someone had to love this at first sight, right? Or maybe they were just thrilled by the concepts of immortals in a time-spanning battle for superiority? That I can accept more than the idea that someone actually liked this movie, which has to rank right down there with the most inept and laughable things I've seen in a long time. Watching Highlander is like a competition to find the part that amuses you the most. Do you go for the self-satisfied and distracting camerawork, or are you more into the barely sketched-in special effects? Do you crack up for Sean Connery as a Spaniard, Clancy Brown as a metalhead barbarian, or Christopher Lambert with his absolutely bizarre mishmash of accents that makes him sound uncannily like Tommy Wiseau? The answer, really, is "all of the above and more"; I haven't even touched on the hilariously over-the-top supporting performances, the ludicrous dialogue, the poorly staged fights, or the increasingly nonsensical plotting. So, sure, Highlander has a cult. But that certainly doesn't make it anything other than a hilariously bad piece of movie-making.
2-3 One, Two,
Three (1961)
 It's rare for Billy Wilder to make a project that's entirely worthless, and while One, Two, Three doesn't become such a work, neither does it ever come close to measuring up to Wilder's best work. With One, Two, Three, Wilder attempts to do a pure farce, and it doesn't play to his strengths - namely, it lacks the dramatic heft that gives his best work such impact and makes the comedy all the funnier. The premise involves the head of a Coca-Cola plant in Berlin in the midst of the Cold War, Communist plots, and capitalism run amok, all of which should play to Wilder's cynical strengths. Instead he goes broad for most of the jokes, and a lot of them just never really hit, even though the performers are doing great. That being said, the movie pulls together nicely in the final act, as all the motion and energy finally gets put to good use in a blur of outfitting, painting, planning, and preparation that connects quite nicely (the lack of datedness helps a lot). All in all, One, Two, Three isn't completely without merit, but it's definitely among Wilder's weaker efforts, and it's hurt pretty deeply by the passage of time, which has left many of its jokes sadly out of place.
1-31 Charade
(1963)
 Often referred to as "the best Hitchcock movie that Hitchcock never made," Charade is a complete blast, beginning to end. The plot seems simple enough - a young widow soon discovers that her husband was not who she thought he was - but trust me, Charade is anything but simple, with bluffs within bluffs, twists within twists, and almost no character being the person you think they're going to be. Nowhere, of course, is this more evident than in Cary Grant's performance as the mysterious Mr. Joshua, whose secrets are hard to keep track of, but whose charisma, sardonic wit, and withering sarcasm makes him a joy no matter what form he takes. (He also gets the best shot of the movie, which involves nothing more than his facial expression.) And, of course, there's Hepburn, who is adorable and effortlessly charming, and hard not to love; no matter what the danger is, we genuinely want her to be okay to be happy, which gives the film stakes beyond what it could otherwise half. I've often remarked that the hardest thing for a film to do is straddle genre lines, but Charade makes it look so easy; it manages to juggle romance, comedy, thriller, drama, and mystery elements, all while never making anything feel out of place and while pulling together a surprisingly complex plot whose swerves are all but impossible to get ahead of. In short, it's one of the most purely enjoyable movies of all time, and a prime example of just how great cinema can be at creating a joyous experience.
1-29 Floating
Weeds (1959)
 A few weeks back, I watched Ozu's original version of this story, which he filmed as a silent movie, and wondered what on earth he could do to make it better. From a plot perspective, Floating Weeds is no different from A Story of Floating Weeds, at least not in the broad strokes; there are a few secondary characters who change, but by and large, this is the same film, except made in color, with sound, and with a longer running time. It's this latter point, I think, that makes the biggest difference, as Ozu seems more willing to let his characters breathe, to let their silences speak, and to let body language tell as much of the story as any dialogue or intertitle ever could. It also feels, too, like he emphasizes the age difference within the film all the more, playing up those generational gaps that so often fascinate him in movies like Tokyo Story. The end result is every bit as moving and effective as the original film, and maybe even a little more; the characters feel more nuanced, less cut-and-dry here, and it's that humanity that really speaks to anyone who sees the film, even 50 years after it was made. It baffles me that Ozu was viewed as "too Japanese" for an American audience; while he's undoubtedly making films immersed in his own culture, the stories here are human ones, first and foremost, and no amount of cultural barriers or language gaps can make the facial expressions, the body language, the tears any less effective or recognizable. On a basic level, this may be the story of a father trying to build a bond with a son he barely knows, but more than that, it's a story of people who are reaching out to each other, reacting to their rejections, and trying to define what it means to be successful in their own lives. And there's no way I can't empathize with so much of that. What a beautiful, engaging film this is.
1-28 The Artist
(2011)
 I went into The Artist with somewhat low expectations, even with hearing its praises sung by so many people; my first reaction was that people loved it for what it was doing (being a black and white silent film in a modern age) more than the film itself. But I'll admit when I'm wrong, and I was wrong about The Artist, which ended up being one of the most winning, charming movies I've seen in some time. Much has been made of making a silent film these days, but as you watch the movie, the reason for that choice becomes obvious: here's an anachronistic film about an anachronistic figure - here, a silent film star struggling with his new lack of relevance in the age of talking motion pictures. The Artist evokes the silent film era wonderfully, recreating silent films with love rather than snarkiness or mocking, and truly immersing the audience in the world they inhabited. Of course, the form also allows the film to toy with its boundaries beautifully, most notably in a dream sequence that's brilliantly done and has to be one of my favorite scenes I've seen in a movie this year, not just because of what it is, but because of how it plays with the film itself. The story couldn't be more simple or archetypal in many ways, but as with so many movies, it's all about the execution, and The Artist is so charismatic, so charming, and so character-driven that the story really soars, becoming as much about these characters as it is about silent-movie stars in general. Much like Scorsese's Hugo earlier this year, The Artist is partially a love letter to an era of films long gone, but it's more than that; it's an engaging, wonderful film that succeeds on its own merits, even while gaining so much more when viewed through the eyes of a cinemaphile.
1-25 3:10 to
Yuma (1957)
 I put off the original 3:10 to Yuma for a while, mainly because I saw the remake (which was quite good) and felt like I basically knew the story. I'm glad I waited for a bit; watching this one without constantly comparing it to the remake left me able to judge this on its own considerable merits and savor how much this has going for it. To me, 3:10 to Yuma plays out a lot like High Noon, with one man struggling with his own fears to do a job because he knows it's the right thing to do, even when it seems like no one will be standing with him. And as played by Van Heflin, Dan Evans, the hero of this story, plays that line between doubt and morality perfectly, creating a character in which either decision would seem believable and understandable. But as good as Heflin is, 3:10 to Yuma wouldn't be half as fascinating without the dynamic between Dan and his prisoner, Ben Wade, here played by Glenn Ford in a charismatic, charming, hard-edged performance that makes Wade into something more complex than a simple villain. So often, westerns had/have a reputation as being a showdown between good and evil, but 3:10 to Yuma makes that dichotomy harder to define and get a grasp on, all of which gives the film a depth and richness beyond what I expected. As the film progresses, we get both men showing signs of regret for their lives, debating how they'll be remembered, and struggling to do what they think is right in a given situation. And all of that comes together beautifully in the film's finale, bringing all of those themes together in a perfect last few scenes. An essential western, and an essential film, period.
1-24 Island of Lost
Souls (1932)
 A classic monster film that brings out some great subtext out of the already richly interesting The Island of Dr. Moreau, Island of Lost Souls uses that book's template - in which a mad doctor is working to transform animals into human beings - to create something more subversive and fascinating. Much of Island of Lost Souls' success is owed to its great atmosphere and sense of unease; there's a ton of great scenes in this film, from the recitation of The Law (by an almost unrecognizable Bela Lugosi) to the riveting and oddly unsettling climax, Island creates a fantastic atmosphere of unnatural acts and nature run amok. More than that, the film dabbles with something more subversive, playing with a female creation of Moreau's whose feelings for our protagonist definitely seem to run towards the animalistic. In some ways, this plot is both the best and weakest aspect of the film: it's the best in that it gives the film a fantastic sense of wrongness to it all, playing against the sense of normality in the same way the novel did, but it's the worst in that it's probably the weakest aspect of the film from a filmmaking perspective, with the female lead being passable and the story kind of slowing to a crawl around this point. But even that section is merely okay, and never bad; balanced against all the interesting parts of the film (especially Laughton's fantastically charming, slightly deranged performance as Moreau), you have a monster movie with lots of interesting subtext, ideas, and atmosphere, all of which make it a pretty above-average B-movie with lots to appeal to any horror fan.
1-23 Hard Luck (1921)
 Another Buster Keaton short film triple feature, and while this run may not have given me a new favorite like The Scarecrow, it was still a lot of fun to watch, and I still giggled like an idiot throughout. All three of these have a bit of a split structure, with the first half of the film revolving around one subject before jumping into the second half, sometimes with only the thinnest (or strangest) of connections. Convict 13, for example, opens with Buster Keaton struggling his way through a not-too-successful game of golf before being mistaken for a condemned criminal and pushed back into prison, while The Haunted House opens with Keaton's misadventures in a bank with a bottle of glue before chasing some counterfeiters into a house they've rigged to appear haunted. And Hard Luck may have the strangest transitions, going from Keaton's repeated suicide attempts into a hunting party and then a showdown with bandits. But the plotting is never the important thing in these movies; what's important are the gags that Keaton delivers, and he has some amazing payoffs here. The Haunted House may be the best of the batch, with Keaton getting his usual astonishing mileage out of a single elaborate set, here played by an elaborately structured "haunted" house complete with collapsing stairs, faux ghosts, and trap doors. But Convict 13 is no slouch either, with Keaton using a medicine ball and a rope in hilarious fashion, getting some incredible airtime out of an elastic cord, and getting laughs through doing nothing more than carefully brushing dust off the rocks he's been breaking. Meanwhile, Hard Luck lacks that single-set genius, but it makes up for with some incredible goofiness, including an amazing reaction to a bear rug, suicide attempts that are laugh-out-loud funny, and a final gag whose silliness can't be understated. None of these three are ever going to make my top tier of Keaton work, but that doesn't make them bad at all; they're hilarious, full of testaments to Keaton's genius (and the importance of a perfect reaction, which he shows again and again here), and more than anything else, full of laughs. And that's the most important thing you can say about them, really.
1-23 The Haunted House (1921)
1-23 Convict 13
(1920)
1-20 Re-Animator (1985)
 Somehow, even with my love of horror films and splatter films, I'd never seen Re-Animator until this midnight showing at the Belcourt, which found a great print to run of the film with an appreciative crowd. And what a blast of a movie it is. The plot is relatively simple: it follows a medical student named Herbert West, who may have found the key to re-animating dead tissue, and his roommate as they begin to experiment with the chemical he's created. However, trying to explain the sheer anarchy that results from this is hard to do even when you're watching the film, much less after the fact; the fact, for instance, that there's a severed head attempting to sexually assault a young woman pretty much makes a sort of deranged sense in the world of the film, as does the part that intestines play in the death of one of the main characters. In short, it's pure, gleeful splatter goodness, and watching it all is a complete blast. There's a few signs of scar tissue where the film didn't get the running time it needed (most notably in the fact that one of the main characters was supposed to have hypnosis powers, something which doesn't come through in the final film), but even so, Re-Animator is a treat. Is it gory to an insane degree? Oh, my, yes. But its tongue never leaves its cheek, and its sense of fun and chaos is a pretty big blast. It's not quite as out there as, say, Evil Dead II, but what it lacks in comedy it more than makes up for in all kinds of way, from fun acting to some amazing throwaway gags. A blast, on every level.
1-19 Man with
the Movie
Camera (1929)
 A wildly experimental (especially for the time) silent film, it's hard to list all the innovations you can find by watching Man with the Movie Camera, and it's also hard to imagine what audiences of the time thought of it. Here's a movie that a) tells its story without any intertitles or dialogue, relying only on its visuals; b) tells layers and layers of stories, including a cameraman filming life in Russian cities, the film he's filming, and an audience watching that movie; c) features a slew of inventive editing and crosscutting; and d) often has some blindingly fast shot lengths, even by today's standards. And yet, for all of that (or maybe because of that), Man with a Movie Camera is compelling and fascinating even today, when so much of what it's playing with have become acceptable and even the standard. Much of that, no doubt, comes from the fascinating aspect of watching a city unfold in the past and being able to see what a day in the life of Russians living in big cities was back in the 1920s. But a lot of it, too, is just the vicarious joy and excitement of someone deciding that cinema is its own medium and should be harnessed as such, and not be forced into restricting itself to the rules of literature. Man with a Movie Camera isn't really the kind of movie you watch over and over again, but it's also one whose impact and importance are hard to overstate. More than that, as a film fan, it's hard not to enjoy the thrill of watching someone play with the medium for the first time and do it so well.
1-17

Hausu (1977)
/

You'd think by my third watch of Hausu that it would lose some of its impact, that familiarity would dull some of the craziness and insanity. And sure, that's true when it comes to some of the big setpieces - the killer lampshade, the piano - but no matter how many times I've seen it, I find myself surprised by the things I forget and just how much insanity is packed into the film. In what other film could you possibly forget that there's a scene in a noodle shop with a bear just hanging out in his kimono? Or that there's a cat that sings the movie's theme song? But that's the joy of Hausu, which still ranks as one of the most batshit insane films I've ever seen - and that's saying a lot. That's the joy of the film, though; there's something genuinely exhilarating about seeing something that's unlike anything else you've seen, and with its changing shutter speeds, odd fades, musical numbers, kung fu fights, theme songs, hand-drawn magic, and floating body parts, Hausu definitely fills that void of uniqueness. This showing was with my film club, who had expressed a lot of curiosity about this one; by the time they finished, their faces were a mixture of amusement, satisfaction, incredulity, and shell shock - and that's about the right look for when you first finish Hausu. It defies description, defies a standard rating, and defies logic, but all of that is why I love it and why it thrills me so much to watch it. There's something genuinely joyous about a movie that doesn't just break the rules, but just assumes that there are no rules, and behaves accordingly. Hausu isn't a film for everyone, but if you're willing to follow it out to the edge, you're in for an experience unlike anything else you've ever had. And that's why I love it.
1-16 A Story of
Floating
Weeds (1934)
 Much like Ozu's later masterpiece, Tokyo Story, A Story of Floating Weeds couldn't be much more simple from a plot perspective, but that in no way undermines the power of the story it's telling or how rich the characters that inhabit its world are. A troupe of actors return to a small town where the troupe's leader has a long-hidden family relationship; when his current love finds out, she extracts her revenge in such a way that no one comes out ahead. That plot description almost sounds like a thriller, but instead, A Story of Floating Weeds is more of a familial drama, watching as these characters react and respond to the events of the film. On watching Tokyo Story, what occurred to me is how well Ozu seemed to have understood human emotion and the pain that our families can cause us - not only by the things they do, but also by the things they fail to do. Beyond that, though, A Story of Floating Weeds also looks at what love can drive people to do, from the revenge inspired by a woman spurned or the young couple who are both willing to give up everything to be with each other. What comes from all of this is a remarkably human story, one that feels universal despite its very Japanese setting and story; these are human beings, first and foremost, and there's not one of them who we can't empathize with, no villain we can't understand and no hero we find flawless. I'm eager to watch Ozu's sound remake of his own film; everything I read says it's even better than this version, and that's hard for me to imagine, when you have something so simple and perfect as this is. In the end, A Story of Floating Weeds is a touching, beautiful film, one that's more interested in the relationships it shows than in telling a simple story - and in doing so, tells something more profound than the story would have allowed otherwise.
1-16 The Meaning
of Life (1983)
 I've seen most of The Meaning of Life over the years, but never sat down and watched the whole thing in one sitting; in some ways, I wish I had just stuck with my piecemeal viewing. Taken as a whole, The Meaning of Life is an incredibly bleak, fatalistic piece of comedy whose cynicism and downbeat mood can get awfully hard to take by the end of it all. The Meaning of Life lacks a lot of the silliness and fun of the best Python work, and in their place is a little more vicious and acerbic towards the world as a whole. That's not to say that it's not a funny movie - there are a lot of scenes that cracked me up, and some of the musical numbers are genuinely hilarious and stupidly catchy (none more so than the ode to the Catholic church near the beginning of the film). But there's just such an air of bitterness to it all that it's hard to find much enjoyment out of the movie, and I can't deny that the higher budget and filmmaking polish of the film hurts it a little; there's something about the Pythons that just seems to work better when they're flying by the seat of their pants. Of course, without a budget, you wouldn't have The Crimson Permanent Assurance, one of the most hilariously inventive openings I've seen in some time; the story goes that Gilliam just kept running farther and farther with the joke, and the end result is insanely over-the-top, but all the more fun for it. I didn't hate The Meaning of Life; it's too smart, too sharp, and too frequently funny. But at the same time, it lacks a lot of the fun and whimsy that made the Pythons so enjoyable to watch, and taken as a whole, it's more than a bit of a downer.
1-16 Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011)
 I ended up reading the novel Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy earlier this year, and having seen the film, I'm glad I did; I'm honestly not sure I would have been able to follow the film without having read the story already, given how the film absolutely refuses to dumb itself down or make any concessions towards making the movie more accessible, so much so that I can't help but feel that its faithfulness to the story may almost be a handicap of the film. If so, though, it's one of the only bad things I can find to say about it - from the pitch-perfect 1970s atmosphere to the absolute acting clinic put on by every actor in the film, this is a phenomenally well-done and realized film, one that immerses you in the complex world of espionage and counterintelligence and never leaves you feeling that you're getting a Hollywood version of things. While the general plot arc - in which a former agent is brought in to ferret out a Russian mole working within the highest levels of British intelligence - sounds simple, the actual story here is richly complex, involving defectors, power plays, the complicated use of bluffs and double-bluffs, and more, giving the film a true sense of just how complex the spy world really could be, meaning that the film's biggest challenge is also part of what makes it so appealing. Beyond that, though, there's the phenomenal cast, all of whom play their parts brilliantly, masking their true feelings and intentions behind layers and layers of false fronts, and none more perfectly than Gary Oldman. Oldman has been known for his over-the-top scenery chewing, but his subtle, quiet performance here is brilliant, conveying more with a single nod or a stare than any words could convey. Tinker, Tailor isn't a film for everyone, and if you're going, you need to be prepared for a challenging watch. But for those who can immerse themselves and navigate its layers of storytelling, there's a brilliant, mature piece of storytelling that never insults the audience's intelligence in any way, and acting that brings out the human depths of it all.
1-15 A Matter
of Life and
Death (1946)
 A wonderful, joyous fantasy about a pilot who very literally escaped Death and finds himself in a trial for his very life, A Matter of Life and Death is just another piece of evidence why the Archers (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger) may just be one of the best filmmaking teams of all time. A Matter of Life and Death has so much going on - a glimpse into the afterlife's bureaucracy, a pilot given a second chance at life, a touching love story, a metaphysical question as to what's real and what's not, a medical drama - and yet it pulls it all together effortlessly, spinning it all into a wonderful fantasy whose love story, characters, humor, and amazing visual style turn it into a true masterpiece of filmmaking. To discuss too much of the story would ruin part of the joys to be found here, but in watching how the Archers depict the pilot's afterlife experience (ironically filmed in black and white, a sharp contrast to the "real" world's vivid Technicolor), you get the sense of something truly awe-inspiring, whether it's a stunning shot of personnel peering through holes in the ceiling or a staircase that seems to go on for all eternity. More than that, though, there's the way the Archers frame the story, balancing the fantastic elements with the possibility of something more grounded going on, and expertly walking the line between the two and never committing to one over the other. All of this adds up to one of the most joy-filled, touching films I've had the pleasure of seeing; I spent so much of this just savoring what I was watching and loving all the small touches. The Archers have yet to let me down with a film, but A Matter of Life and Death may just be their best work, and when you consider that their filmography includes movies like Black Narcissus, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, and The Red Shoes, that's high praise indeed.
1-15 The Lion
King (1991)
 On some levels, watching The Lion King as an adult shows a few of the flaws in sharper focus than seeing it as a younger viewer; the over-reliance on celebrity voices can be distracting, the fact that the company hadn't quite managed to match computer animation with hand-drawn is evident, and apart from the instant classics ("Hakuna Matata," "I Just Can't Wait to be King"), a lot of the songs are pretty forgettable at best. And yet, at the same time, I'm all the more impressed with a lot of the movie, most notably how mature and thoughtful its take on some serious themes are - themes like death, our legacies after we leave this world, owning up to our responsibilities, and more are some heavy ideas for a piece of family entertainment, and The Lion King does them very well, balancing a serious look at the themes with a family-friendly feel that keeps the film from feeling too adult. And while some of the computer animation stands out today, that doesn't make it bad; so many of the sequences here are still beautifully stunning, from the iconic opening to that stampede that everyone remembers. The biggest thing The Lion King has going against it today is how amazing Pixar's work has been, and how it's set a new standard for family films in many ways, but the fact is that The Lion King still holds up quite well, even with a few niggling flaws in the mix; if you doubt that, try watching it with small children and watch how caught up they get in it and how much pure pleasure they get from the film, from the jokes to the serious moments.
1-14 Young
Adult (2011)
 Young Adult is being marketed as a somewhat sarcastic comedy about a successful woman who goes back home to see an old boyfriend; while that's nominally what the film is about, it couldn't be more wrong in terms of the film's tone. That's not to say that Young Adult isn't frequently laugh-out-loud funny; it's just that the laughs are often incredibly uncomfortable, and are there as much as a release of tension as for the comedic joy of it. It's hard to think of a mainstream film I've seen in recent years with a more unlikable protagonist than Young Adult, much less one whose main character, I'd argue, gets no sort of redemption at all in the film despite desperately needing one and living deeply in denial. As played by Theron, Mavis is a fascinating trainwreck of a character, one whose adolescence has so deeply affected (some might say "scarred," others "spoiled") that she's all but unable to function as a fully grown adult; combine that with some obvious alcohol problems and you have a deeply toxic character on her way to a spectacular flameout. Theron gives a dynamite performance, never letting on that Mavis is in any way aware of her own flaws, and instead conveying an absurd self-confidence and an icy demeanor that probably was fine in high school but only serves to isolate her now. She's matched, though, by Patton Oswalt, playing a classmate of Mavis's who was beaten severely and partially crippled for being gay (though he isn't), and whose anger, disappointment, and rage at his own life matches Mavis's perfectly. This is an acidic piece of work, and while I loved it, I can see why it's a tough sell; there's no lessons learned here, no good redemption, just a sense that this is just another stop on the way to oblivion. But as a character study of people defined by their pasts and unable to move into adulthood, Young Adult is a fantastic piece of work. It may make you wince, it may make you cringe, it may make you laugh, but what it does more than anything else is create vivid, fascinating characters and stays true to them all the way to the bitter, bitter end.
1-14 Puss in
Boots (2011)
 My interest in the Shrek movies waned pretty quickly; while I enjoyed the first one well-enough, I never really loved it, and nothing in the second one told me that there was much more to be gained from the series - with one exception: Antonio Banderas's inspired turn as Puss in Boots, a character that embodied everything I loved and enjoyed about cats while still being a hero. So I was intrigued enough by the idea of a Puss in Boots standalone film, and by and large, this delivered what I hoped for. Gone are the snark, the innuendoes, and the pop-culture jokes that cluttered up the Shrek movies; in their place are a lot of fun cat jokes, a great sense of adventure, and a nice playfulness with nursery rhyme characters that feels fun and enjoyable rather than smirking and smarmy. It's not on the level of some of the outstanding stuff Dreamworks has been putting out as of late (I'm thinking here of How to Train Your Dragon and Kung Fu Panda 2, especially), but it's a lot of fun and I'm far more likely to go see it again than pick up a Shrek movie. As for the two little critics of mine? My son loved the swashbuckling and the jokes, and my daughter loved the music and the dance fights (so much so that she stood in the aisle and danced through the credits). So that's a pretty strong round of praise from them - add it to mine and you have a fun family movie enjoyed by all.
1-14 Mon Oncle d'Amérique (1980)
 You can't talk about Mon Oncle d'Amérique without talking about the way in which the film is made: while telling the story of two men and a woman, their connections and relationships over the years, and charting the paths of their lives, the film is often narrated and interrupted by a (real) professor discussing his theories of human behavior and what governs it. To him, human behavior can be understood through behaviorism - rewards and punishments, pleasure and pain. Laying this information over the film gives the situations and behaviors on display some added depth, to be sure; it turns the film from a human drama to something more complex and interesting in many ways, adding a layer of psychology and human interest to stories that we've seen over and over before. But while the gimmick serves to illuminate some of the story and gives the movie a purpose and point of view, it's not really enough to make it truly great for me. The story isn't ever all that involving, the characters uninteresting, and while the behaviorism is an interesting layer, it's pretty basic stuff from a psychological perspective. Still, it's an interesting variation on an old trope, and inventive enough to be entertaining as a watch.
1-13 The Wages of Fear (1953)
 The Wages of Fear takes a little bit to get going, and I feel like it goes on about five minutes too long (or maybe it's just that I wish it ended five minutes sooner to avoid a sour ending that never sits right with me). But in between those two aspects is one of the tensest, most nerve-wracking thrillers I've ever seen, and even a second viewing doesn't dull its impact or the tension that it can exert on you. The premise couldn't be more simple: a group of desperate, broke men get offered a massive cash bonus in exchange for driving massive truckloads of nitroglycerin across a rocky, dangerous road. Out of this premise, the filmmakers create a series of jaw-dropping and incredibly intense setpieces, ranging from a corrugated iron road that demands high speeds to an unexpected rock slide to an incredibly narrow turn, and manages to create some jaw-dropping suspense out of each of them, masterfully turning the screws perfectly with each new scene. The end result will have you twitching with anxiety, even if you know how it all turns out; as a thriller, it's hard to imagine Wages of Fear working any better than it does. And even though the opening takes a bit to get going, it sets the scene and the characters perfectly; it gives you the desperation needed to drive the film, as well as giving us a sense of the characters. But you can't justify the ending nearly as well; it's hard to explain too much without giving it away, so suffice to say that the last five minutes feel tacked on and excessive, and never feel like something that grows out of the film itself. Even so, none of that detracts from the masterful work on display for the rest of the film; it's an essential thriller, and a clinic on how to turn psychological screws on the audience.
1-13 Paradise Lost
3: Purgatory
(2011)

 The first film in the Paradise Lost series introduced the world to a truly horrific murder of three young boys and to the "West Memphis 3," three teenagers who were railroaded into the murder conviction largely based on the fact that they wore black and listened to heavy metal music. The second film, Revelations, was almost a study in the effects of the first film, following the movements that sprang up in the wake of the first film and seeing what the new attention had done to the case. It was a fascinating film, but one that almost felt as though it were drifting from the core of the films; in that way, it's almost a relief (although an infuriating, heart-breaking one) to find Purgatory returning to the murders and the trials at the heart of this case. Purgatory was completed shortly before the WM3 were finally released on an absurd technical plea, leaving the film now with a short epilogue detailing the release. It's almost a relief to have it there, as infuriating as that plea is in many ways (essentially, the three pleaded that they were innocent but chose to plead guilty to be released on time served, which keeps them from suing the state into the Stone Age for the wrongs it committed); otherwise, Purgatory would offer almost nothing in the way of hope. Systematically analyzing the trial and focusing on the wave of new evidence that's been uncovered since the trial (most notably some intriguing DNA evidence), Purgatory hammers home just how little evidence there is to point to the WM3, as well as finding a new suspect who seems to have been ignored entirely by the police until this point. (To be fair, this aspect would be more effective had the film not done it in the second film with someone who is now one of the WM3's biggest supporters; even so, the case it lays out here is far more damning and solid than the implications presented in Revelations.) Simultaneously, it takes a long hard look at the original trials and the appeals processes that have failed the WM3 so many times, finding a slew of issues with both that may serve to crush any belief you have in the justice system. Even the "happy" ending, in which the WM3 are finally freed, isn't free of anger...and yet, I'd be lying if seeing the three free and watching Echols and Baldwin embrace didn't make me tear up all over again, just as I did watching it live. Taken together with the original film, Purgatory creates a fascinating portrait of how wrong justice and go, and just what the cost of those errors can be; if nothing else, the juxtapositioning of images of the three as the first entered prison with their faces today only underlines just how much time and life these men have had robbed from them, and just how heavy the toll this process has taken really is. Are these easy watches? Not at all. But I think it's all the more essential for that difficulty - we owe it to these men and others in their situation to face the cost of justice gone awry, and we must stand up to it whenever we see it in action.
1-12 Being Elmo:
A Puppeteer's
Journey (2011)
 I've seen a few people give Being Elmo some flak for essentially avoiding anything close to dramatic tension or darkness, and it's a fair point; even a cursory watch makes it pretty clear that this is essentially a puff piece on Kevin Clash, the puppeteer responsible for creating Elmo as we know him today, and it avoids delving into some of the darkness or less flattering aspects that seem to crop up occasionally in the film. And normally, I'd have a problem with that, but at the same time, Being Elmo is just so utterly charming and fascinating that I can't hold it too much against it. Clash is an insanely talented performer, and watching him work Elmo and his other puppets only emphasizes exactly how much talent he has and just how much work goes into making his creations truly feel as though they're coming to life. As for the story the film tells, while it eschews anything truly dramatic, the glimpses of the Muppet workshop, the story of Clash's good luck and fortune, the training of international Muppet performers, and the vicarious stories of Jim Henson make the movie really compelling and intriguing, even if only for its window into a world so many of us love but so few of us know much about. Don't come to Being Elmo looking for anything controversial; instead, come for a portrait of a man who is working incredibly hard to create something that brings true joy to so many lives, and come for the glimpse into some of the work that goes into making Sesame Street come to life. If that's what you expect, you'll have a lot of fun with this; it's winning, charming, and moving, even in its polish.
1-11 The Last
Man on
Earth (1964)
 From a plot perspective, I really like The Last Man on Earth; it's an adaptation of Richard Matheson's justly beloved I Am Legend that seems to actually get the appeal of not only the stripped-down nature of the story, but also the beauty and impact of that perfectly ironic ending that gave the story its title. That it executes the story with a little more action throughout doesn't really bother me; it's an adaptation, and the story is so internalized that a direct adaptation would be difficult in the extreme. On the other hand, The Last Man on Earth falls short on the execution level in a variety of ways, from some subpar acting from most of the supporting cast to some remarkably unscary vampires. But really, a lot of my problems come with Price in the main role; while I like Price a lot, and he plays the part well, he never feels quite convincing as a scientist or as a "regular guy," which is what the story needs to truly work. That being said, the movie creates a great mood of isolation, and I really liked the closing sequence, which adds a nicely done dimension to Matheson's ending. All in all, The Last Man on Earth ranks pretty solidly in the "decently good" category for me; the mood of it all really helps a lot, and helps to offset some of the bigger problems that I have with the movie. And if nothing else, I admire how they stick to the emotional cores and themes of the story, even while turning it into a more open film.
1-10 The
Balloonatic (1923)
 A Buster Keaton short film triple feature to treat myself today, and what a joy it all really was. At about twenty minutes apiece, each of these films is essentially a testimonial to Keaton's genius, reminding me not only how funny he could be, but also how inventive, creative, and clever he could really be - and none really demonstrated this better than The Scarecrow, which may be my new favorite Keaton short I've seen. Much like Steamboat Bill Jr., The Scarecrow largely revolves around a single set, in this case a one-room house that's been rigged in such a way to maximize the available space. To say more would ruin some of the fun, but watching Keaton and his co-stars navigate the house is a beautiful exercise in choreography, timing, and brilliant comedy, and the whole thing only gets funnier and funnier as it comes to involve a dog and a motorcycle sidecar. It's sustained brilliance, and flawless in every way. Neighbors is pretty close to being just as good, although I feel like it feels a little more like strung together gags than a continually plotted piece, but when the gags are this good, that's a small complaint. Watching Keaton's use of clotheslines to hurtle between buildings, a rapidly diminishing stack of men, or a cleverly rigged plank of wood, Neighbors is a great example of how Keaton could look at the simplest situation and see ways to use everyday objects for brilliant comedy. Finally, there's The Balloonatic, in which a rogue balloon strands Keaton in the wilderness on a typically bizarrely creative camping trip. The Balloonatic isn't as tightly constructed as the other ones; there's a little more slack in the pacing, and the plotting doesn't feel quite as interwoven with the locations. That being said, when the gags pay off - I'm thinking here of Keaton's escalating fishing plan, or some of the payoffs of the canoe trip, or the perfect final bit - they still work perfectly. Keaton is one of those rare artists whose weakest work is still amazing, and these short films only serve to reinforce my love and admiration for his films. (All three films are available legally and free online in decent to great quality; watch The Scarecrow here, Neighbors here, and The Balloonatic here. They make for a great way to spend a lunch hour.)
1-10 Neighbors (1920)
1-10 The
Scarecrow
(1920)
1-8 Thelma &
Louise (1991)
 For as controversial as Thelma & Louise's reputation can be, I don't think I quite expected the movie to be so...well, kind of generic. That's not to say that the movie was bad: it's got a lot of fun energy, mostly driven by the charismatic performances of Davis and Sarandon; the plotting is fun to watch build; and as you'd expect, the themes, ideas, and feminist notions of the movie make it fun to pick apart. But really, those things are about all the movie really had going for it for me. Apart from Thelma and Louise, most of the other characters are incredibly generic and disposable, even when they're played by actors like Harvey Keitel and Michael Madsen. Moreover, the movie never seems to settle into the right tone; it tends to be too playful when it needs to be serious, and often lurches into sentimentality and mawkishness when it's aiming for drama. (Nowhere is this more apparent than in the final moments, which Ebert rightfully slams; the movie should have trusted its fade to white more and not felt the need to immediately cut to a cheesy montage or crank up the country music - it torpedoes the effectiveness of the ending.) Even with those disclaimers, though, I can't deny that I enjoyed Thelma & Louise quite a bit - there's a sense of fun and charm to it that's inescapable, and the thematic underpinnings are really compelling. I just don't think the movie as a whole is as rich as it should be to be truly great.
1-7 Never Let
Me Go (2010)
 A pure plot summary of Never Let Me Go - in which a group of children in an alternate present come to understand their reason for existing and what it means for their lives - suggests a thoughtful science-fiction thriller, something along the lines of Gattaca, where intriguing ideas are explored while our characters fight against their fates. But that's not Never Let Me Go, which instead is a calm, haunting portrait of people who have made their peace with their fates and purpose and do their best to make the most of the time they have. The end result is strikingly beautiful and flawlessly acted, but it's also never quite as engaging as you'd hope, mainly because the movie never really makes us care about the characters as much as we need to. You can see, as you watch this, how rich the book that inspired it must be, and how fascinating the lives and decisions of these characters must be. But the movie has a lot of ground to cover, and while the actors are all top-notch, the scripted characters never really have the time to come to life, instead rushing through their plot sections to get to the end. Even so, Never Let Me Go is a beautifully shot film, and its melancholy and thoughtful mood go a long way towards overcoming some of the movie's problems. But it never makes the characters really live, and ultimately, that makes it too inert to really work for me.
1-6 The Intruder (1962)
 You can watch The Intruder legally on YouTube here, which in its own way, is kind of depressing - that such an incredible, incendiary piece of filmmaking should be relegated to a forgotten public domain recording. And yet, Roger Corman's loss is our gain, as this galvanizing portrait of American racism and demagoguery is watchable any time you'd like. The titular intruder is played here by William Shatner, who will erase every cheesy memory you have of him as he absolutely inhabits a smooth-talking racist who rolls into a small Southern town that's about to begin integration. His goal? To put a stop to the process, a goal that he goes about by means of talking to the people, playing on their hates, and working them up to a frenzy. What follows is one of the more blistering and brutally honest looks at racism that I've ever seen, one whose titanic gutsiness is only emphasized by the year in which it was made. The Intruder was apparently one of Corman's only box-office failures, and it's not hard to see why; the film he's made here forced Americans to look long and hard at their own prejudices and hatreds, and to see how easily led they could be by appeals to their lower natures. But viewed with some distance from the era that it depicts, it's not hard to see how much of a masterpiece The Intruder is; from Shatner's phenomenal performance to Corman's unsettling, unflinching portraits of mob rule, the film absolutely fires on every cylinder. I honestly can't say enough good about it, and I can't recommend enough that you watch it.
1-5 An
Education
(2009)
 The story of a 16-year-old girl who finds herself drawn into a relationship with a charming older man, An Education manages to be about so much more than that simple summary might suggest. Of course, given that the screenplay is in the able hands of Nick Hornby, who manages to use relationships to explore far more complex human feelings, that shouldn't be a surprise; that being said, I was still unprepared for how much An Education moved me by its conclusion. Much of the credit has to go to Carey Mulligan, whose performance as young Jenny is staggering - it's equal parts charming, naive, sweet, sullen, and heartbreaking - in other words, she's a pure teenage girl, and her feelings of love and her devastating moments wouldn't be half as effective without her performance. Equally important to the movie, though, is Peter Sarsgaard, whose charm and kindness makes his performance as David work; given what we see the character do and what we learn about him as the film progresses, it's easy to see how important his performance is to making the film work. But in the end, what truly makes An Education work is its beautiful understanding of the relationships it depicts and the characters that inhabit them. Whether it's the appeal of David to young Jenny, the complex feelings her father displays, or the subtle dynamic between David and his friends, the film absolutely nails the dynamics that dictate the situations, and conveys them beautifully while never feeling expository or showy. The film stumbles slightly in the final scenes - it feels as though it rushes to get to the end, for some reason - but it's a minor, minor flaw in a wonderful film that otherwise truly moved me in a variety of ways.
1-4 Cyrus (2010)
 What on earth is this movie trying to be? Cyrus isn't sure if it wants to be a comedy, a drama, a romance, or a character study, and the end result is that it never succeeds in doing any of them well. The plot feels as though someone tried to do for Step Brothers what Paul Thomas Anderson did for Adam Sandler movies when he made Punch Drunk Love - that is, they wanted to make a "real world" version of the story and explore all of the emotional implications that such a story might create. Here, Jonah Hill plays the overgrown man child desperately trying to push away his mother's (Marisa Tomei) new suitor, played by John C. Reilly. The character work is okay, but Cyrus himself never feels like a real person, only a caricature; therefore, by the time the movie wants to invoke sympathy for him, it can't help but fail in the process. Moreover, the attempts at comedy are too painful to be funny, and too ridiculous to be taken seriously. By the end, it just feels like a muddled mess of a movie, one that simply can't decide what it wants to be and ultimately succeeds at doing almost nothing.
1-3 The
Illusionist
(2010)
 Although the pairing would never have occurred to me, it really does seem almost perfect that the animator behind the wordless, stylish Triplets of Belleville would find himself directing an animated feature based off of an unproduced Jacques Tati script. After all, both men find their humor in rich, detailed worlds; both eschew the use of dialogue in favor of simple whimsy and a sweet sort of slapstick; both find as much fun in watching people as in telling a story. And yet, even with all of those matches, I wasn't quite prepared for what The Illusionist gave me, which was a bleak, heartbreaking story of an artist facing the end of his livelihood and his fame and finding himself far more alone than he ever expected. The plot of the film follows an older magician who finds himself playing in bars and empty theaters, only to gain an ardent young fan who believes his tricks to be true magic. It sounds sweet and moving, and it is, but the film evolves from there, following the magician as he becomes forced into more and more menial jobs as the young girl moves on beyond him. Apparently inspired by Tati's strained relationship with his daughter (one of them, anyway), The Illusionist is as much a story of people moving on with their lives and finding that their place in life is not what they expected. And far from being one of Tati's wonderfully dry but hilarious stories, the movie is quietly devastating, feeling more like the heartbreaking epilogue to Tati's career rather than the lost entry. It's no less effective for that impact, but it's not at all what I expected, given the film's pedigree; in some ways, though, that unexpected direction made the film's emotional impact all the more impressive. In short, don't go into The Illusionist expecting the Tati of M. Hulot's Holiday or Mon Oncle; rather, this is the story of a man looking back at his career and wondering what it all meant, with all the emotional complexity such a story deserves.
1-2 Elite Squad:
The Enemy
Within (2010)
 Elite Squad: The Enemy Within has earned comparisons to nothing less than The Wire, so it's no real surprise to find that the movie has problems living up to that very high standard. But that also is a bit of a misleading place to begin with the movie, which is far more of an action movie with a little bit of thoughtfulness added in than it is a social commentary piece. The Enemy Within is the story of the commander of an elite police unit who finds himself involved in the dangerous and corrupt world of Brazilian politics, and there's some nicely lived-in details that make the movie feel genuine and brutally honest...but there's also a slew of over-the-top action sequences and right-wing fantasies that undermine the message the movie seems interested in conveying. As an action movie, The Enemy Within isn't too bad; it's involving enough, and the story it spins is an intriguing one. But the worldview and the social commentary don't feel sufficient enough to make the movie a true masterpiece; instead, they feel like some interesting window dressing on a lot of explosions and shootouts. And the end result feels like a movie that strives to make a point while still being entertaining, but only really succeeds on the second part. Is it entertaining? Yes. But is it a great movie? Not even close.
1-1 Beavis and
Butthead:
Season 8
(2011)
 If you had told me last year that Beavis and Butthead would not only finally be showing new episodes, but would be one of my favorite television comedies of recent memory, I don't think I would have been able to believe you. And yet, here we are, with the show closing its eighth season after a very long hiatus, and you would hardly know they had taken a break at all. The show's a little different than it used to be, most notably with the substitution of MTV reality shows in place of the music videos, but given that so many of my favorite moments of the year have come from those clips, I can't complain that much. (The best, hands down, would have to be the psychic from Nashville, which made me laugh until I couldn't breathe at points.) But the episodes themselves have been no less fantastic, with the boys seemingly unchanged even as the world around them gets more strident and more insane. Whether they're working in tech support, chasing a rat out of their house, or mistaking an abortion clinic for a brothel, Beavis and Butthead manage to make their idiocy almost profound at points, and combining that with their vicious, take-no-prisoners sarcasm as they watch TV has made the show's return one of the most pleasant, consistently hilarious surprises of the year. Here's to a lot more episodes to come.

 

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page updated:
February 9, 2012