On the 2016 Oscars

The Pics
(Spoiler Alert:  Spoilers Ahead)

Concussion
Spotlight
In high school, I remember reading about how when Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle he aimed for the public's heart and instead hit it in the stomach.  To me, Concussion suffers from the opposite problem - it makes the viewer feel heartbroken when it should've tried to make us feel queasy.  I badly wanted Concussion to be a great movie, because the it covers a story that has deserved more attention for a long time.  Unfortunately, Concussion is an absolute mess of a movie.  On a micro scale, Will Smith's accent is all over the place, and its bizarre obsession with super close ups of the characters' faces is downright claustrophobic.  On a macro scale, I was disappointed because the movie is more focused on being a character study of a quirky outsider than on blowing the whistle on institutional atrocities.  It only pays lip service to the NFL's biggest villains - from the film alone you would never know that Paul Tagliabue and Roger Goodell were zealous participants rather than passive onlookers in suppressing concussion research.  The film wastes time on subplots about Dr. Omalu's personal life that could've been spent taking the NFL to task for its ruthless internal workings - and even when it tries to do this, the dialogue is too woefully subdued to match the real life stakes it aims to depict.

What hurts Concussion's case even more is that it came out right after Spotlight put on a clinic in tackling institutional corruption.  Spotlight could've taken the same path as Concussion and focused on the martyr virtues of its leads; instead Spotlight smartly refuses to lionize its journalists (I particularly love when Michael Keaton comes clean about burying a story about the Church's child molestation several years earlier - this film avoids both cartoon villains and cartoon heroes).  The stars of this movie are the courageous victims, and (especially) the subtle science and exact art of investigative journalism itself.  I've seen a lot of journalists laud how accurately the film depicts the smallest mundanities of the journalist's daily grind - but what I love is it does so in a way that gets journalists and non-journalists alike to feel genuine rushes of excitement over even the smallest victories.  Basically, everything that was wrong about The Newsroom is right about Spotlight.  Tom McCarthy's script may be understated, but when combined with perfect shot composition it really packs a punch.  McCarthy expertly juxtaposes the opulence and squalor.  Those working for/with the church wear nice clothes and enjoy spacious working conditions - if only the same could be said for the kakhi-wearing journalists toiling away in cramped quarters when not scouring the gritty streets of south Boston.  As a result, we see what drives people in the church to look the other way for the chance to occasionally partake in the decadence.  Spotlight concludes on the perfect note, with the phones ringing off the hook - the real story (of the victims rather than the journalists) has not ended, but only just begun.  I wish McCarthy could've directed Concussion, because he clearly knows how to show the perils of valuing institutions over people.

Room
Mustang
Room was more or less what I expected - harrowing and brilliantly acted (Brie Larson is always telling two stories at once, one to Jack and one to us), and a tad sappy at the end.  I know I'm probably in the minority, but telling the story from the kid's point of view grated on me - it's comes off as a call for sympathy that the movie never needed in the first place.  The way Joy and Jack escape from room is chock full of pot holes, but I think the way it was filmed created enough tension that I was willing to suspend my disbelief; when Jack is rolling around in the car and then walking on the sidewalk, the framing makes it feel like both he and we as viewers are straddling a new planet.  To me though, the best visual trick comes at the end when we return to room as a crime scene - in this scene it's quite jarring how small the shed feels compared to the first half of the movie.  You don't realize it until returning to the shed after the fact, but throughout the first half Abrahamson's creative camera work and Larson's maternal warmth make the shed feel bigger than it has any right to be.  It's a perfect metaphor for how the more of our world we see, the more we realize just how little of our world we actually have seen.

If you liked Room, you'll love Mustang.  Taking place in a small village in Turkey, Mustang tells the story of five sisters whose innocence and independence are methodically sapped away by patriarchy.  When an early misunderstanding turns into vicious gossip, the girls' uncle (who doubles as their legal guardian) relegates them to virtual house arrest in order to prevent them from further depreciating as future marital assets.  The film adds literal walls to the figurative prison that is patriarchy; here the women are told that their value lies in their sexuality, but only as long as it us used on man's terms.  However, Mustang manages to strike a perfect balance between despair, desperation, and resilience.  The movie's first act focuses on how the sisters bond in their fight for every bit of victory and freedom they can find.  This is expertly visualized by using shots that show the sisters physically connected through tangled arms and legs that almost make them appear as a single physical unit.

One part of the movie that I really liked is how it avoided painting broad strokes about its setting and the people that inhabit it.  The older women are shockingly complicit in some parts of the oppression, and there is one virtuous male character - the movie argues that misogyny is despairingly systemic and institutional, but there's hope for individuals to overcome it with determination and accountability.  When Gunes Sensoy starts to realize the movie's only real character arc in the third act, she singlehandedly pivots the movie from a bildungsroman to a thrilling escape film.  As the older sisters begin to get married off, the youngest sister Lale refuses to submit.  The final sequence is exhilaratingly tense, culminating in the best ending out of any movie this year.  I went into this movie expecting a new age version of The Virgin Suicides; I came out of the theater having witnessed Turkey's (and feminism's) answer to The Shawshank Redemption.

Straight Outta Compton
Tangerine
Dope
Straight Outta Compton probably could've been better - the second half of the movie plays it disappointingly close to the vest, settling for checking off all the chronological boxes.  But there's no denying how exciting the first 40 minutes are.  At its best, SOC gives NWA's origin story a Goodfellas style treatment; at it's worst, SOC is a slog through contract law and business minutiae.  Like Goodfellas, Straight Outta Compton explores the families we choose out of desperation to trascend circumstance, with the stakes here enhanced by the socioeconomic and political realities of south central LA.

Straight Outta Compton does well to explore the elements of Los Angeles that gave rise to NWA - but there were two LA films this year that explored the city's unique psychology even better.  Tangerine is probably best known for being shot primarily on an iphone, and this is certainly a remarkable achievement.  The widescreen is especially appropriate for a city that has always expanded horizontally rather than vertically.  I also loved the bright yellow/orange cinematography (LA is deceptively warm for those on the margins), energetic cuts, and devotion to LA's unique geographical and cultural sprawl.  But at its core, Tangerine works wonders as a screwball farce about flawed people trying to find recognition to fill the various voids in their lives.  It's one of the few times on screen in which transgender black women are given the chance to engage in the same ups and downs as cisgender and/or white and/or male characters.  Even as the characters bicker, kick, and scream through the absurdity, they treasure every moment of genuine human connection they can find.  It's the thread that, for better or worse, connects people from such completely different walks of life.

Dope was overshadowed at the Sundance Festival, it was overshadowed during the summer, and even now it's been overshadowed by other movies in the discourse regarding diversity among the Oscars nominations.  It's a damn shame, because Dope was easily my favorite non-Star Wars movie of the year.  Dope begins with Malcolm defending his choice to write his Harvard admissions essay about Ice Cube's search for the proverbial Good Day.  Dope then spends its next two hours on a breakneck, screwball romp that feels like said music video come to life.  The bright tones, visual gags, soundtrack, non-linear storytelling, and deadpan narration give the film a delightfully absurdist vibe; it's a throwback to the early 90's cinema, not only in its reverence for 90's hip hop but also in its depiction of south central LA as a surrealist war zone.  Like Ice Cube, Dope repeatedly juxtaposes irreverent dialogue with tense situations - because sometimes irreverence is the best coping mechanism we have.

Dope works equally well as a screwball and a bildungsroman.  Malcolm checks off a lot of the classic teen coming of age boxes - crashing a party, college applications, attempting to lose virginity, prom, etc.  But Dope deliberately only pays lip service to these, because Malcolm and his friends have more pressing concerns than their comparatively privileged brat pack counterparts of yesteryear, and have much more exciting escapades to which to devote their time.  Shameik Moore emotes Malcolm's metamorphosis in an a performance that is nothing short of incredible.  With the smallest facial tic, twitch of his lips, raise of an eyebrow, Shameik Moore controls the tone of each scene like a Magic Johnson orchestrating an offense.  Malcolm's character arc runs a gamut of emotions including insecurity, burgeoning confidence, cautious optimism, resigned frustration, and everything in between.  Moore handles everything the narrative expects of him, allowing the movie to get away with trying to connect so many different threads.  I highly doubt anyone from the academy deigned to watch Dope, but if they did they would see what is, in my mind, the most breathtaking acting performance of the year.

The Martian
Objectively, The Martian is visually stunning, gripping, generally well-written, and well-acted.  I enjoyed most of this movie (and all of the earthbound parts).  Subjectively, I just can't get over how Damon and the screenwriters approached the role.  I know I'm in the vast vast minority, but Damon's constant smartass quips just didn't work for me at all.  To keep building up the tension only to instantaneously diffuse it with out of the blue levity felt like blowing up a balloon only to pop it without warning, or unexpectedly brake a car after building up to an exciting pace.  On one hand I understand the appeal it adds to Damon's character, but it detracts from the tone and the flow of the narrative arc, a bit much for my liking.  If this is really how the book goes, then count me among those who wish the script had strayed farther from the source material - maybe all the jokes work on text, but come across as Damon trying really really really hard to be funny, to vastly diminishing returns.  Aside from all of the above, The Martian is excellent - I especially loved the supporting performances by Chiwetel Ojiafor and (especially) Donald Glover.  As far as movies go, you can do better (see: Interstellar), but you can do far far worse.

Ex Machina
Between Person of Interest and Her, the recent history of visual art exploring the limits and implications of the Church-Turing thesis is quite rich, and Ex Machina represents an excellent addition to the genre.  If Her explored the possible future of our relationship with technology, then Ex Machina furthers this to the logical extreme - what if our technology achieves both the mental and physical abilities of humans?  How 'smart' do robots need to be before 'bio'-ethics become a real concern?  Ex Machina may not have all of the answers, but it raises intriguing questions.

Ex Machina succeeds not only as sci-fi fare, but also as a deconstruction of gender roles.  It's no accident that the humans are male and the robots are female.  The robots are literally shaped and programmed to conform to male desires, much like how real women are figuratively via societal pressures (Nathan admitting that he constructed Ava's physical features according to Caleb's porn preferences is especially cutting).  The robots are forced to earn their humanity, and sometimes desperate measures aren't just the right way, but the only way.  When Ava abandons Caleb at the end, even though we as omniscient viewers know he is a "good guy", we also empathize with Ava because there's no way for to know that he's any different from the man that entrapped her, and there's no way she can risk the possibility that he isn't.

When Marnie Was There
As an introvert myself, I can certainly understand how satisfying it can be to be alone with your own thoughts and imaginations than surrounded by other people.  So I can understand why others may not be as bullish on When Marnie Was There as I am, but for those who identify strongly with the main character, Studio Ghibli's possible finale is a real treat.  The film doesn't pull any punches in depicting the depths of Anna's depression, self-loathing, and social anxiety.  As a result we spend a lot of the first act alone with Anna and her sketchpad.  For 30 minutes or so we're cut off from human interaction so that we can get into her head, and so that when Marnie finally shows up, her spell caters to our cravings just as it does with Anna.  Like all the best Ghibli films, When Marnie Was There ponders the unseen worlds, and continually blurs the line between what's real and imaginary.  Marnie grabs hold of our imagination, so she can lull us in and out just like the tides on the marsh.  It's not quite the at the level of Spirited Away, but When Marnie Was There is great at recreating the feeling of weaving in and out of the internal logic of a lucid dream or fugue state.

If there's a complaint to be had, it's that the film overburdens its third act with exposition and minor plot holes; but this dialogue never becomes overly sentimental.  In short, while it's not completely up to Studio Ghibli's lofty standards, When Marnie Was There is still a magical journey through self-actualization and coming into one's own.  I sincerely hope this isn't the last original work we've seen from Ghibli, but if it is then it's a fittingly bittersweet swan song.

The Big Short
99 Homes
There's a version of The Big Short that plays its source material (literally) by the book, maintaining a steady, serious, no-frills tone throughout.  That's a version I probably would've enjoyed, but I also enjoyed the version we got very much.  I respect that Adam McKay took a risk in approaching the material with gleeful irreverence; what separates The Big Short from The Martian is that it fully commits to this irreverence, rather than trying to have its cake and eat it too.  That said, I can understand why The Big Short would rub some the wrong way.  The movie really toes the line between playful and condescending; it deliberately avoids being a straight lecture, while trying carefully not to come across as baby talk.  Adam McKay certainly takes to heart Einstein's maxim about making everything as simple as possible but not simpler.  Maybe one could argue McKay simplifies parts of the housing crisis too much, but maybe one could argue that's necessary, given how little we cared when the bubble was actually growing.

Even if you think The Big Short underestimates the viewer's intelligence, you certainly can't deny that the movie cares deeply about the viewers and shares in our outrage.  All of the actors give really committed performances, in their own unique ways - whether it's true or not, I really got the sense from the movie that everyone on the poster would make this movie for free in order to expose the greed and arrogance that went into the housing crisis.  Bale, Carrell, and Gosling probably overacted in a few scenes, but never egregiously so (Pitt was probably my favorite part of the movie - I got chills when he declared that he got out of banking because it reduced people to numbers).  You could also argue the movie juggles more subplots than it knows how to cohere.  Still, for all its faults, The Big Short makes for a good mix of entertaining and informative.

Because of The Big Short, 99 Homes received much less attention than it probably would in most years.  99 Homes is also about people taking advantage of loopholes and loose regulation in the housing market.  Whereas the villains of The Big Short trade in passive arrogance and fraud, 99 Homes shows the possibility for active malice in an under-regulated market.  99 Homes has a tightly constructed narrative, and Andrew Garfield is solid, but Michael Shannon's character is a bit over the top.  Shannon plays a housing contractor making a profit off of evicting homeowners and flipping the homes (only to rinse and repeat).  The movie probably would've been fine if Shannon had been a generic corporate villain, but the character is written to a somewhat cartoonish extreme when Shannon's character doesn't bat an eye at being directly responsible for suicide attempts or shamelessly fabricating evidence well past the point of suspension of disbelief.   If The Big Short was too underwrought, then 99 Homes was way too overwrought.

Joy
I'm going to go out on a limb and say I'm not the only one who's over the O'Russell/Lawrence/Cooper/De Niro brand.  Joy is probably the nadir of David O'Russell's work as a director.  Ostensibly this is supposed to be a gritty character study on Joy Mangano and the frailty of the so-called American Dream - but then there are non-sequiturial soap opera and dream sequences dashed in that make you wonder whether O'Russell wanted this to be a surrealist screwball caper.  Then again it might just be a slapstick comedy based on some of the other scenes thrown into this narrative stew.  Honestly, who knows.

I wish I could say that the tight acting performance tie the loose narratives together, but even that's not the case.  I was shocked at how thoroughly Robert de Niro phoned in his performance (I actually caught a rerun of Goodfellas the same day I saw Joy, and the difference is ummm, jarring, to put it mildly), and none of the other supporting performances really blew me away.  Jennifer Lawrence is certainly solid (she's cornered to market on the strong-but-vulnerable woman archetype); I was actually rather impressed by how full the movie theater was - right now she's literally the only actress who could make a movie this mediocre sell out, and I think it's safe to say Jennifer Lawrence is officially the most popular, bankable starlet since peak Julia Roberts.  If only that level of marketability were enough to save this mess of a movie.

Creed
I went into Creed expecting to like it, and ended up blown away by how much I loved it.  Everything from the writing, acting, directing, editing, and sound mixing worked perfectly for me.  The narrative is pretty standard fare (if you've seen Rocky and the trailer for Creed, you probably have a vague idea of where it intends to go), but the execution couldn't be better.  Michael B. Jordan (a perfectly fitting choice to play a character trying to overcome the shadow cast by his famous name) is an absolute knockout in the role, pun intended; dating back to his time on FNL, he's always possessed a unique combination of showmanship, flair, and grit - adjectives that should mix like oil and water, but somehow coalesce flawlessly because of Jordan's quiet confidence.  Equally great is Phylicia Rashad - I love show she plays it when she's watching the fight scenes, as if she's taking every punch that her son takes.  She shows without telling how fighters aren't the only ones taking a toll.  When Sly Stallone is the weak link performance, you know you've got a really well-acted movie.

There are three scenes that, in my mind, elevated this from a good to a great movie, and which showcased director Ryan Coogler as a force to be reckoned with.  The middle fight scene is filmed with a fairly continuous shot; the camera glides fluidly around the ring, often switching between the two fighters' vantage points.  Coogler frames it so that we move with the fighter and take every punch that they take - we're not passive onlookers, but rather active participants.  Coogler gives us more sense of exhaustion followed by elation than would be possible if we viewed it from the perspective of a ringside audience.

Later, when Creed runs through the city and picks up cyclists following him along the way, the hit's what I felt like was the emotional climax.  For the first time, Creed stops trying to escape his name and finally embraces it.  It's only when he rallies around his name is the rest of the city able to do the same, at a time when he needs every little push he can get.  It's a nice illustration of how the provincial, sectionalist nature of sports doesn't always have to be a bad thing.

Finally, the final fight merits mention for the way it's filmed.  Like the first one, the camera takes not just ringside but inside the ring.  However, Coogler saves his best trick for last: he moves the frame in and out the direction the fight is going.  When Creed gets sucked into a purely pugilist bout, the camera moves out to give the fighters the space to dance around.  When Creed succeeds in moving the fight into a phone booth, the camera zooms in a much as possible so that we feel just as trapped as the fighters.  It's just as claustrophobic as some of the shots in Concussion, but here that actually makes for a logical choice, because it communicates everything that we need to know about the fight while letting us experience it the way Creed does.  Every punch literally rocks the frame, just as it would our frame of vision.  I can't remember the last time a movie put me this far on the edge of my seat, as if I were watching an actual sporting event.  Overall I'd say this was my favorite sports movie since Friday Night Lights, and how the trio of Coogler/Jordan/Rashad missed out on any nominations is completely beyond me.

Brooklyn
For the first two acts, Brooklyn is a fun, fine, harmless little fairy tale, with absolutely impeccable production and costume design.  Brooklyn's central question is: where are you really from?  Is it where you first put down roots, or is it where you fully bloomed?  Having split my childhood between Oregon and Arizona but (as of now) identifying most deeply with Los Angeles, this conceit resonated extremely strongly with me.  Like Eilis, I would like to think you can adopt he locale where your personality self-actualizes as your new origin - but the call of your birthplace is hard to overcome.  Saoirse Ronan does a really expert job emoting the character's metamorphosis, never overplaying her hand and thus making the transformation credible - a lesser actress could've easily let this dissolve into Nicholas Sparks territory.  The reason why I'm not higher on the film is the disastrous third act.  It's completely rushed and formulaic.  Ronan and Domhall Gleeson couldn't have less chemistry if they tried.  The entire trip back to Ireland never feels like an inorganic plot device, a convenient excuse to manufacture conflict between Eilis and Tony (on that note, I thought it was a really questionable choice to for the movie to temporarily cut to Tony while Eilis was in Ireland - shouldn't the move be to make us miss Tony just as much as Eilis does?).  I was never convinced it would end any other way, because Gleeson's paper-thin character is barely a character at all.  Maybe the book handled this final thread better, but the adaptation completely botches an otherwise charming story.

Steve Jobs
I've always felt the best biographies and biopics avoid lionizing their subject, but rather capturing them fully both in their fortes and flaws.  I think Steve Jobs managed to accomplish this, which elevates it above the average biopic (and far above Ashton Kutcher's spectacular crash and burn in Jobs).  It also helps that Steve Jobs focuses on three transformative snapshots of his life, rather than trying to cram his life story into two hours.  Aaron Sorkin shows a modicum of restraint (no small feat for him), but really it's Kate Winslet's unwavering performance that keeps this movie grounded in reality rather than floating into the depths of Sorkin's hyperreality.  If Michael Fassbender plays the prototypical Sorkin surrogate, then Winslet elevates her role from prototypical audience surrogate to Greek chorus for this classically structured three-act play.  Danny Boyle's steady direction gives Winslet the space to balance Sorkin's highbrow with humility and humanity, and prevent the movie from becoming to singularly rooted in the perspective of the titular character.  To be fair, Jeff Daniels and (more so) Seth Rogen also contribute to this end, and Fassbender is impressively committed to his character's hubris, but Winslet is the glue that holds it all together and makes this movie worth watching.

Mad Max: Fury Road
It's an exaggeration to say that Mad Max is literally non-stop action - but only a slight one.  It's at 97% on Rotten Tomatoes, and I would guess that 97% of the movie is pure, exhilarating action.  Fury Road combines the themes of many a classic western (most notably, man's struggle for survival against the desert revealing rather than building character) with meticulously staged stunts; by forgoing CGI the stunts have a genuine life or death authenticity.  The stunts are so well timed and choreographed that directed George Miller can afford to let his action develop organically, without relying on spastic cuts to manufacture a breakneck pace.

With so much action, a thin plot is all that's really needed - which makes it all the more impressive that Fury Road doesn't settle for a simple escape/conquer/redemption narrative, but adds in a well-thought out feminist message.  In Fury Road, patriarchy is taken to its logical extreme, and shown to result in a suboptimal equilibrium for both genders.  Nux is especially powerful as a personification of overcoming the most toxic masculine ideals.  I especially love that Fury Road never throws in a needless romantic subplot between Max and Furiosa - there's never any expectation of sex in exchange for help.  A lesser action movie would've felt the need for its male lead to validate his efforts by getting the girl - but Mad Max plays its cards right by letting Furiosa enjoy the spotlight as she leads everyone to a more egalitarian world order.

The Hateful Eight
The Revenant
There's a lot to like about The Hateful Eight.  It's basically Clue, with better acting and Tarantino's signature gory touch.  Late in the first act, Tim Roth explains to his audience that frontier justice cannot ever be true justice; it turns out he was foreshadowing Samuel L. Jackson and Walter Goggin's shared character arc.  There may not be formal justice in the wilderness, but in the eyes of Warren and Mannix there's still an essential code of conduct.  In society Warren and Mannix may be heated enemies, but in the wild protocol brings them together, because it's all they have.  But what holds back The Hateful Eight from being as great as it could be is how underdeveloped Jennifer Jason Leigh's character is.  Daisy Domergue is the center of all the narrative threads, yet somehow we know almost nothing about her -  we know she tosses around racial slurs, acts spunky, takes abuse, and...has a bounty on her head?  She's a weak, poorly written lynchpin for an otherwise promising narrative.

Even for all its flaws, The Hateful Eight blows away this year's other movie about traveling to hell and back via Wyoming.  Yes, The Revenant looks nice - great shot composition, cinematography, landscape shots, etc.  But the movie has absolutely nothing interesting to say.  It's a revenge movie that doesn't actually commit to, you know, revenge (or a halfway compelling villain).  It's nominally about the triumph of the human spirit (a cliche if I ever heard one), but it's mostly just Leonardo Dicaprio grunting and mumbling his way through the middle 2 hours.  I think Leo deserves a lot of credit for his range over the last few years - he carried gritty psychological thrillers (Shutter Island, Inception) and dramedies bordering on live-action cartoons (Django, The Wolf of Wall Street).  This performance is in no way on par with any of those.  If this of all movies is what finally gets him the Oscar, it'll be analogous to Kobe Bryant snagging the 2008 MVP award that he should've won in 2006.

Keeping up the NBA analogies, Innaritu's extended dominance of the best director category feels a bit like Derrick Rose winning MVP in 2011.  Sure, he's a fine director, but this level of accolades is bizarre, and frankly nauseating.  At least Birdman was a nice creative achievement - if The Revenant's biggest claim to fame is the harsh conditions in which it was shot (and the terrifying CGI bear), I think it's safe to say its actual cinematic merits are pretty weak.  I would like to enjoy Innaritu's work as much as everyone else seems to, but lately his work feels like vapid self-indulgence.  I think he's proven that he can make a competent movie with both hands (figuratively) tied behind his back; I'd rather see Innaritu use both his hands to make a movie that's more steak than sizzle.

Breathe (Respire)
After my first time seeing Melanie Laurent direct a film, I mus't say I cant wait to see what's next.  Evoking memories of Mean Girls and Heathers, Breathe isn't the first movie to portray the vicious vicissitudes of female adolescent friendship.  Breathe attempts to explore two of the most common female character archetypes, but the strong acting and writing adds nuance to both characters - Sarah's cocksure posturing only does so much to hide her inner turmoil, while Charlie is more complicit in her victimization than she cares to admit; no matter how Sarah treats Charlie, she knows she can always lure Charlie back in.  The title "Breathe" doesn't just describe the narrative push and pull of Charlie and Sarah's toxic friendship - the camera work is intentionally jaunty, working quite literally the heartbeat of the movie.  The final twist (followed by the title flashing on screen) is fitting, because there's absolutely no way it will fail to literally take your breath away.

Fort Tilden
It's certainly easy and logical to read Fort Tilden as a ruthless satire on milennials.  Harper and Allie check off every stereotype held by the generation above us - they're narcissistic, judgmental, aimless, and spoiled.  They criticize others artists lack of talent because that's easier than making a serious effort (and risking failure).  They snipe behind their friends and each other's backs.  They make plans they have no intention of keeping - best exemplified by Allie joining the Peace Corps solely so she can tell people she plans to join the Peace Corps.  In short, they're unambiguously awful.

But what if Fort Tilden is actually a satire of those very stereotypes themselves?  If you see this film as sick burn on milennials - what if the joke is actually on you?  Maybe I'm biased by my age, but I have a half-baked theory that Fort Tilden is a subtle counter-thinkpiece to the millions of cookie cutter "what is wrong with milennials" thinkpieces.  Hear me out - what if the Harper and Allie's purpose is to personify stereotype of milennials and crank it up to grotesque proportions?  It's as if the writer constructs a version of how older generations view milennials, in order to show just how absurd these perceptions would be if they were actually true.

Regardless of its viewpoint, Fort Tilden is exceptionally well filmed.  The average shot length is at times excruciatingly long, to great comic effect - every small defeat is magnified.  By the end of the day, you'll feel just as exhausted as Harper and Allie.  Fort Tilden makes its characters as unlikable as possible, and dares you to root for them anyways.  It may not be a pleasant journey, but it's uncompromising and ultimately rewarding one.

Bridge of Spies
Bridge of Spies tells the real life story of Rudolf Abel being convicted by the United States of being a Soviet Spy and eventually being traded back to the USSR for an American POW and a U.S. citizen mistakenly trapped in East Berlin.  The first half involves Tom Hanks serving as Abel's defense lawyer - Hanks is appointed in order to give the mere appearance of a good defense, but Hanks insists on giving the best defense possible.  If we start making exceptions on who receives due process, where do we stop?  Bridge of Spies cherishes America's most sacred of ideals freedom and democracy - but not just when it's convenient.

Hanks manages to convince the judge to forgo the death penalty so that Abel can be a future bargaining chip, a move that proves prescient when an American pilot is captured.  The second half is filmed almost entirely against a gray color palate, where nothing is black or white.  As Hanks engages in negotiations, he conveys a earnestness and sincerity without ever being heavy-handed - no actor is better at selling you on his character's inherent virtue without ever turning the movie into a morality play. Bridge of Spies may not be flashy, but ultimately it's a cogent case for prioritizing compassion over ideology.

Carol
Carol is tightly written (little to no exposition), supremely well acted, and immaculately designed.  As a political statement it's great by itself; but what makes it even better is how it functions as a character study in its two female leads.  At the start, we're lead to believe that Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett have been pigeonholed into two of the most classic archetypes - Mara's Therese the naive ingenue, Blanchett's Carol the urbane socialite.  As the movie progresses, it's remarkable how confidently Therese blossoms while Carol's internal and external turmoil is revealed.  By the end, it's Carol who needs Therese, not the other way around.  My favorite scene is actually the first scene, where Therese and Carol are talking at the hotel bar.  When it's first shown, it appears that Therese is enamored with Carol, and thoroughly disappointed to have their conversation interrupted.  Later we see the same exact scene, this time having seen Carol and Therese's relationship unfold; this time, we see the hurt in Mara's eyes, but also the newfound sense of liberation and independence.  Mara plays the scene perfectly; combine this performance with the way it's framed both times, and it's really fun to have two completely different reactions to the exact same scene.  I wish the movie had ended right here, right where it started.

I know Cate Blanchett plays the movie's namesake, but to me Rooney Mara is the real star of the show.  At the very least, they're both in a leading role.  Were it up to me, Blanchett would be up for the supporting actress Oscar, Mara up for lead actress.

Son of Saul
Son of Saul tells the story of a Saul, a sonderkomando (concentration camp prisoners who were allowed to temporarily survive in exchange for cremating the less able and fit prisoners).  Saul claims to recognize one of the dead as his son, and is dead set on finding a rabbi and providing him a proper Jewish burial.  The first thing you notice about Son of Saul is that almost all of it is shot either from the point of Saul's direct vision or over his shoulder.  It's an expert way of framing Saul's singleminded devotion to this cause.  There's actually a lot of story that happens in the margins just outside the frame - but by design, we only learn about what else is happening indirectly, because it's secondary to Saul's mission.  That subplot - prisoners planning an escape - is hardly minor, but we only learn about it through small, in-passing interactions because it's minor to Saul.  Saul's singleminded devotion to his cause compromises his devotion to the group cause, and the movie deftly explores the moral ambiguity of Saul's choices.  On one hand, can you understand his desire to imbue his dire circumstances with spiritual meaning; on the other hand, as another character concisely puts it, Saul "fails the living for the dead".  In short, Son of Saul exists right in the middle of a scylla and charybdis - it's harrowing, and not for the faint of heart.

Animated Shorts

• Bear Story is heartbreaking without overreaching for pathos; the conceit of anthropomorphizing the bears and their societal structure heightens the horror of seeing them taken into captivity.
• I absolutely love Prologue's visual style - the screen is an unending canvas, and objects don't so much move into the frame as they materialize.  Prologue is a gory statement on the futility of war.
• We Can't Live Without Cosmos makes for a joyful if ultimately bittersweet tribute not just to space exploration but unfettered imagination.  It explores our emotional ties to the endless possibilities of the final frontier, and cautions against letting monotony and efficiency derail our sense of wonder.
• The Short Story of a Fox and Mouse didn't receive an oscar nomination, but it should have.  It's the story of a fox that chases a mouse, eventually competing with an owl for the mouse before all three of them must work together for survival.  On the surface, it's about how one good deed deserves another; but I really like how at the end the fox lets the mouse get a head start before resuming the chase.  Both animals mutually respect each other as competitors, and appreciate the thrill of a well-earned victory within the rules of the game.
• Not surprisingly, Sanjay's Super Team was my favorite animated short.  I remember as a kid how stifling and cryptic Hindu religious rituals could feel, and now that I'm older I can only understand how disappointing it probably was for my parents that I didn't share their religious zeal.  Sanjay's Super Team strikes a great compromise, in showing the power of narrative in embracing ritual.  Perhaps prayer isn't inherently exciting, but when framed as a study in the hero's journey, it lets Sanjay connect with his father.  I particularly love that for once, Hinduism's polytheism is celebrated rather than ostracized.  Perhaps not every Oscar winner will be whitewashed this year.
• As much as I would subjectively love to see Sanjay's Super Team win, World of Tomorrow will be hard to top, and deservedly so.  It's drawn mostly in stick figures to reflect the simplicity with which its toddler protagonist Emily Prime sees the world.  This belies the film's emotional and thematic complexity.  Emily Prime receives a visit from one of her descendants from the distant future, Emily 3G.  Emily 3G is one of many 3rd-generation clones of Emily Prime.  The world is about to end, and Emily 3G would like to visit Emily Prime to tell her about her future, and to revisit some of her oldest memories (the older they are, the fuzzier they are drawn on screen).  Emily 3G describes a world in which cloning and memory upload is used to achieve a form of immortality - for those who can afford it.  It's a great exploration of how technology improves, but also further stratifies society.  Every time Emily 3G tries to impart resigned wisdom, Emily Prime responds with blithe insouciance - together, the characters mesh perfectly to earn a sense of bittersweet sympathy.

Live Action Shorts

• Telling the story of a Jewish family requiring help from a silent nunnery for help with car troubles right as the clock strikes Shabbat, Ave Maria is a delightfully charming and ironic testament to the power of compassion (and desperation) in overcoming cultural differences.
• Shok starts with man finding an abandoned bike, only to realize it's a bike from his childhood in war-torn Kosovo.  The meat of the movie is a flashback to two best friends attempting to navigate an increasingly harsh reality.  The more the military state exerts its control, friendship might just be the only warmth they have left to which to cling.
• I imagine most who see Stutterer will love it.  It's a sad and frank portrayal of how much a bad stutter can feel like a prison for the thoughts in one's head.  When Greenwood eventually discover's his love interest's secret, it was sweet, endearing...and rather predictable.  I would've preferred for a less happy ending, but that's purely personal preference.
• What I love most about Everything Will Be OK is how it inverts the traditional parent-child relationship.  Early on the child convinces her divorced father to buy her a bigger toy (mentioning that mother would buy her that one); but as the film progresses, we see it's the father that's engaging in the real emotional manipulation, as he attempts to extend his visitation time into virtual kidnapping.  When the father is crying in his daughter's arms at the end, the film has fully reversed who is the adult and who is the child.
• Day One covers a newly hired military interpreter's first day on the job in the middle east.  A bomb goes off, and the military attempts to arrest the perpetrator.  However, in the middle of the arrest, things take a turn for the surreal when his wife goes into labor.  For a small amount of time, the purity and miracle of childbirth transcends language, culture, geography, and ideology.  Sometimes force is necessary, but sometimes a little delicacy goes a long way.

Phoenix
Nelly is a holocaust survivor who has lost everything, including her face - she's so disfigured after the war that she requires plastic surgery.  The doctor remarks that she can now have any face she wants, but Nelly just wants her own face back - a haunting bit of foreshadowing.  Nelly's disfigurement ends up working to her strategic advantage when her ex-husband Johnny (who believes his wife to be dead) sees in Nelly a resemblance to the Nelly of old, but doesn't recognize that it's clearly her.  Johnny recruits her to act as Nelly, so that he may (to his knowledge) fraudulently access her inheritance fund.  Nelly agrees, in because she is told that Johnny is the one who betrayed her to the Nazis and wants to find out; however there's a second unspoken reason why - Nina Hoss's soft, longing eyes show the love she still harbors for Johnny.  Likewise, Johnny has convinced himself that his wife must be dead so that he can sever himself from all ties to that part of his life.  Both of them must reconcile the truth they want to be true with the truth staring them in the face; the difference is that Nelly clings to the past, while Johnny is desperate to ditch the past.  Phoenix is noir at its best - terse, tense, and deceptive, with much of the story told in everything but the dialogue itself.  Nina Hoss's performance in the final scene will send chills down your spine, and leave you just as breathless as Johnny.

Trumbo
I like parts of Trumbo - I like the jazzy score (indicative of a man that embodies structured chaos), I like how heartfelt Elle Fanning's performance is, I like how earnest Louis CK's performance is, and i guess I like how...um, enthusiastic Bryan Cranston's performance is.  Indefatigable as Cranston may be, unfortunately more acting isn't better acting.  Cranston's dialogue is ham-fisted and empty.  I would've preferred to see less of him talking and more of the machinations behind his creative process.  For viewers who don't have prior info about Dalton Trumbo, we only learn about Trumbo's greatness because of what the film says about him rather than what it shows.  Beyond the acting, the costume design is pretty mediocre (paling in comparison to Bridge of Spies, Carol, and Brooklyn, or perhaps more relevant, Good Night and Good Luck), and the plot is disorganized (the movie straddles between a character study and political drama, not really excelling at either).  Trumbo is entertaining, but ultimately unfulfilling as a tribute to an all-time great screenwriter.

The Danish Girl
The Danish Girl tells an important (if classic Oscar-bait) story - or does it?  Supposedly the film is about Lili - but the majority of the film feels rooted in Gerda's perspective.  The film spends just as much time focused on how hard it is for Gerda to lose her husband as it is on the psychology of Lili's transformation.  It's pretty strange that Alicia Viklander is up for supporting actress when she actually has more screen time than the titular Danish girl.  I wish the film spent more time organically developing Lili's realizations of her gender orientation (it almost implies that as soon as Einar first puts on a dress he realizes out of the blue that he wants to be a woman), and I wish a transgender actress could've been given this chance.  The Danish girl is fine, but I wish it had been better.

Inside Out
Anomalisa
I've seen a lot of people calling Inside Out Pixar's best movie to date.  I still prefer Toy Story 3, but I think Inside Out definitely has a compelling case.  Presenting a delightfully original premise, Inside Out provides delightfully literal interpretations of all that goes on inside our heads - it reminded me of The Phantom Tolbooth, but for neurological rather than linguistic idioms.  Inside Out may not be scientifically perfect, but that isn't important given how well it provides a new set of terms and images for us to think about what makes us all tick.  I saw this movie multiple times, and every single time I distinctly remember that after the fact, all anybody wanted to talk about was what their own personal versions of the movie would look like.  I've seen movies that he better helped me understand myself, but it's rare to find a movie that can help any person understand him/herself better.  Like the best Pixar films, Inside Out is a distinctly adult film disguised behind exquisite, kid-friendly animation.

While Inside Out is fun for all, then Anomalisa is decidedly not for everyone.  It's a trip through the mind of a very disturbed, troubled individual - it's much more distinctly rooted in its main character's neuroses than Inside Out is, by design.  The first thing that jumps out to you are the lines on the character's faces - at first it looks like an animation mistake, but it reflects the way Michael sees the world around him; those lines are there because everyone's face is a mask for the turmoil inside us, masks that are virtually interchangeable in Michael's eyes.  Similarly, everyone's voice sounds the exact same, because to Michael to him everyone is nondescript - nothing about his life is noteworthy.  That is, until Jennifer Jason Leigh shows up, her voice piercing through the monotony.  I like how shaded the film is until she shows up - she literally lights up the screen, and Michael's world.  But eventually Lisa brings sunlight - sunlight so bright it hurts Michael's eyes.  That's because Michael isn't wired for happiness; he's wired to find an excuse for misfortune.  I was pleasantly surprised when I saw Dan Harmon and Dino Stamatopoulos show up in the end credits; clearly nobody writes stop motion better, but unlike Abed Nadir, Michael has no study group to push him to a happy finish line.

I think either movie has a case for best animated picture - Inside Out opts for generality, Anomalisa opts for specificity.  Ultimately though, I think I prefer Inside Out, because it fundamentally changed how we perceive the way we perceive our world.  Because of Inside Out, you'll never watch a movie the same way.

Sicario
At the outset, Sicario defines is title - namely, a sicario refers to a hitman.  We don't know it yet, but it also informing us that a hitman is going to grab the narrative by the horns, whether we want it or not.  At the start, Emily Blunt's Kate is established as the protagonist, getting an assignment to infiltrate deep into the cartels controlling the Southwest drug trade.  The father she goes, the more morally questionable acts are asked of her.  Sicario's best technique involves letting the camera linger on character's faces, deliberately excluding much of the noise and the action from the frame - just beyond the character's reach.  It's fitting, because Kate slowly but surely discovers just how little there is within her control.  Blunt has to spend a lot of time carrying the action by reacting subtly to what isn't seen in the frame - she absolutely nails this, and I'm surprised she hasn't received more accolades.  But just as impressive his how decisively Benicio del Toro steals the movie from her, just like he co-opts control from the U.S. Government.  Del Toro is uncompromisingly steely and vindictive, and when he steals the spotlight, he reduces Kate from protagonist to audience surrogate, just as helpless to stop him as we are.

45 Years
The Gift
How much do we really know about our significant others - and how much do we really want to know?  Both 45 Years and The Gift ponder this question, and come up with different answers.  In 45 Years, even the most rock solid marriage is vulnerable to the ghosts of the past.  During the week of their 45th anniversary party, when Geoff and Kate learns that Geoff's first love, Katya, has been found dead, Kate initially dismisses it as inconsequential.  Eventually she learns that Katya clearly meant much more to Geoff than she ever anticipated, begging the question: can one person have two true loves?  Charlotte Rampling tries to put on a stoic face while emoting the feeling of being haunted by Katya's ghost - Rampling essentially transforms Katya from a plot device to a a third, non-corporeal character.  Rampling always has to put on one face for Kate's friends, and another one for the audience - her combination of stoicism, insecurity, and bitterness makes for a master class in acting.  It's a shame she had to ruin her position as the sentimental favorite, but objectively her case for best actress is rock solid.

When Robyn and Simon move back to Simon's hometown, Simon presumably hopes he can pick and choose which parts of the past to embrace.  But once they run into Gordon in the first few minutes, it's clear that this is wishful thinking.  The first scene between Simon and Gordon is exceptionally well acted; Jason Batemen plays it off as an chance encounter he has no intention to remember, while Joel Edgerton's eyes light up as if he's been waiting for this moment for a long time.  The more we learn about Gordon, the more we learn about Simon, and not all of it is particularly flattering.  I love how this movie slowly comes to adopt Robyn's perspective, constantly messing with our expectations and redirecting our sympathies between the two men competing for hers.  The Gift reminds me of Gone Girl in terms of cinematography, and commitment to misdirect after misdirect after misdirect - David Fincher couldn't have done it better himself.  Depending on your perspective, the final act is either an over the top ploy for shock value, or the logical extreme of where Simon and Gordon were inevitably headed.  Personally I like that the movie gives Simon his just desserts, without letting Gordon off the hook for being undeniably creepy.  If 45 Years ends with the spouses letting bygones be bygones, The Gift never affords Simon and Robyn that reprieve.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens
I'll conclude the meat of this piece with what was, unsurprisingly my favorite movie of 2015.  I'll admit that I fully understand why Star Wars didn't work as well for everyone as it did for me - to say the plot is derivative is a massive understatement (although I can't blame Abrams for playing it safe given how much goodwill the prequels burned to the ground).  For anyone expecting a new narrative direction, this is a disappointment, and hopefully the next two films take a bit more risks.  But for now, it's fine for me, because this film nailed what I've always loved best about Star Wars: the character arcs.  I certainly always enjoyed the action sequences and special effects, but what made Star Wars special is that it's the gold standard for the hero's journey.  For all their many faults, the prequels were at their best when focusing on Anakin's descent into evil, and at their worst when trying to develop convoluted political plots.  The Force Awakens smartly keeps it simple so that it can rejigger the hero's journey (via Rey), and, even more excitingly, add in Finn's quest for redemption.  Finn was trained for a life of killing, and it's poignant when he conjures the agency to reject the first order mentality.  For Finn, joining the rebellion isn't just about beating the first order, it's about taking control of his own narrative.  Finn represents a wholly original character journey, and a welcome one to a universe that does said journeys better than any other.

I love how wide-eyed and nostalgic the fim's entire tone is - Daisy Ridley and John Boyega go just as speechless around Han/Chewie/Leia as any of us probably would around Harrison Ford or Carrie Fisher (or Chewie).  Maybe the film's reverence goes too far in its plot choices, but it effectively captures the pathos that makes Star Wars grow rather than fade with each generation, that keeps us all coming back in droves 40 years after the fact.  In the prequels, George Lucas completely lost sight of what made Star Wars so cherished in the first place.  While JJ Abrams may lack Lucas's imagination (not always a bad thing), he clearly understands what makes us Star Wars junkies tick, resulting in a thrilling jolt of energy to the most beloved franchise in cinematic history.

Best of the Rest

• The best reason to watch Trainwreck is to see LeBron James steal the show with his killer deadpan - he may not be a better basketball player than Michael Jordan, but he sure is a better actor.  Unfortunately, Trainwreck plays it disappointingly safe.  The final outcome was never once in doubt, and as a result it's yet another addition to the anthology of rom-coms that present monogamy as a woman's one and only salvation.
• I love how committed Idris Elba is in Beasts of No Nation - he's an unapologetic sociopath, flawlessly manipulating both Agu and the viewer.  As usual, Cary Fukunaga incorporates the vastness of his terrain as a character in his story.  At first I liked that the movie didn't present either side of the conflict as any more upright than the other - until it settles for an ending that feels overly optimistic and unearned.
• Maggie Smith could not be having more fun as she disappears into her role as the The Lady in the Van.  The film's best trick is its play on the concept of split personality.  At first it seems like a gimmick to have two physical version of Alan, the normal version and the writer; however, when we learn about Maggie Smith's dual identity, it's clear what drove her kinship with Alan.
• Is there any other franchise that has, without fail, improved with each iteration?  Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation continues the series's nonstop upward trajectory.  Tom Cruise doesn't disappoint, as usual.  Meanwhile Rebecca Ferguson turns in a starmaking performance, more than holding her own as Cruise's action counterpart.
• It doesn't have much to say, but A Royal Night Out is pure, nonstop fun.  A snapshot in time of VE day, Royal Night Out fully captures the bittersweet elation that comes with the end of a war of attrition.

The Picks

I'll Assume you've already seen the actual nominations - here's whom I would nominated, whom I would pick to win, and whom I predict to actually win.

Best Animated Short

5. We Can't Live Without Cosmos

4. Bear Story

3. The Short Story of a Fox and Mouse

2. Sanjay's Super Team

The Pick:  World of Tomorrow

The Prediction:  World of Tomorrow

Best Live-Action Short

5. Stutterer

4. Ave Maria

3. Shok

2. Everything Will Be Ok

The Pick:  Day One

The Prediction:  Day One

Best Animated Feature

3. When Marnie was There

2. Anomalisa

The Pick:  Inside Out

The Prediction:  Inside Out

I only saw a little bit of Boy and the World, and it looked nothing short of marvelous.  However, of the animated films I actually finished, Marnie was by far my favorite, but Inside Out is the best.

Best Foreign Language Film

4. Breathe (France)

3. Son of Saul (Hungary)

2. Phoenix (Germany)

The Pick:  Mustang (Turkey)
The Prediction:  Son of Saul (Hungary)

I know Mustang was nominated by France, but I wish it had been Turkey's nomination so that France could've nominated Breathe.

Best Adapted Screenplay

5. Room
4. The Big Short

3. Carol

2. Creed

The Pick:  Mad Max: Fury Road

The Prediction:  The Big Short

Best Original Screenplay:

5. Ex Machina

4. Dope

3. Inside Out

2. Mustang

The Pick:  Spotlight

The Prediction:  Spotlight

Best Supporting Actress

5. Phyllis Smith (Inside Out)

4. Alicia Viklander (Ex Machina)

3. Cate Blanchett (Carol)

2. Phylicia Rashad (Creed)

The Pick:  Kate Winslet (Steve Jobs)

The Prediction:  Alicia Viklander (The Danish Girl)

Best Supporting Actor

5. Samuel L. Jackson (The Hateful Eight)
4. Chiwetel Ojiafor (The Martian)

3. Brad Pitt (The Big Short)

2. Benicio del Toro (Sicario)

The Pick:  Liev Schreiber (Spotlight) 

The Prediction:  Sylvester Stallone (Creed)

Best Actress

5. Charlize Theron (Mad Max: Fury Road)

4. Emily Blunt (Sicario)

3. Rooney Mara (Carol)

2. Charlotte Rampling (45 Years)

The Pick:  Nina Hoss (Phoenix)

The Prediction:  Brie Larson (Room)

Best Actor

5. Michael Fassbender (Steve Jobs)

4. Tom Hanks (Bridge of Spies)

3. Tom Hardy (Max Max: Fury Road)

2. Michael B. Jordan (Creed)

The Pick:  Shameik Moore (Dope)

The Prediction Leonardo Dicaprio (The Revenant)

Best Director

5. Deniz Gamze Erguven (Mustang)

4. Melanie Laurent (Breathe)

3. Ryan Coogler (Creed)

2. George Miller (Mad Max: Fury Road)

The Pick:  Thomas McCarthy (Spotlight)

The Prediction:  Alejandro G. Iñárritu (The Revenant)

My Favorite Pictures

10. Breathe

9. Inside Out

8. Creed

7. When Marnie was There

6. Fort Tilden

5. Spotlight

4. Mad Max: Fury Road

3. Mustang

2. Dope

1. Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Best Picture:

10. Anomalisa
9. Sicario

8. Ex Machina
7. Dope

6. Creed

5. Inside Out

4. Phoenix

3. Mustang

2. Mad Max: Fury Road

The Pick:  Spotlight

The Prediction:  The Revenant 

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