Obligatory Best of 2011 List

Well, here we are again. That time of year when I tell you how wrong it feels to whittle down an entire year's worth of films into a handy Best Of list. How does Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life" stack up against Paul Feig's "Bridesmaids?" Do I opt for the silent glory of "The Artist" or the uncanny primates in "Rise of the Planet of the Apes?"

Film isn't just one thing -- a "movie." It's everything: art, entertainment, music, story, experimentation, hope, death, revolution, joy, sleaze, divinity, despair. To rank them on the same scale seems entirely unfair.

What I can do is offer an unranked list of titles that left an impression on me in 2011, whether for pure entertainment value, a breathtaking performance or a show of artistry that took a few viewings to fully appreciate. So here you have it, my list of notable films of 2011.

My top 5 (really 6) list appears in today's Union-Tribune. I've listed them here but click the link for a brief justification for each.

"The Artist"

"Buck" and "Bill Cunningham New York"

"Drive"

"Of Gods and Men"

"Hugo"

If I'd chosen my top five on another day, I could just have easily substituted one of these three films for "Hugo" (the other films are solidly in place).

"The Descendants"

While I was immediately blown away by Shailene Woodley's performance, it took two viewings of Alexander Payne's family dramedy to really draw me in -- but it was well worth it.

"Midnight in Paris"

With the exception of Rachel McAdams' shrill character, Woody Allen's Parisian fantasy was pure joy.

"The Tree of Life"

A visual poem that envelops you in memory, light, existence...until Sean Penn's mug drags you back to an unwelcome reality.

A few more films worthy of honorable mention:

"Certified Copy"

Having seen it only once, director Abbas Kiarostami's film is a puzzle that I've only half solved. I can't wait to give it another viewing and see what other pieces of this indeterminate relationship I can piece together. Either way,  it's impossible not be be taken in by Juliette Binoche.

"Last Lions" and "Project Nim"

I admit it, I'm a sucker for documentaries about animals, especially when they take out your heart and stomp it to bits. In "The Last Lions," the circle of life is to blame for one lioness' struggles. But chimpanzee Nim can point the finger at a few too many despicable humans.

"Like Crazy"

The level of intimacy director Drake Doremus can create through this mostly improvised film is sometimes more effective than you're prepared for. And actress Felicity Jones declares herself to be the Jessica Chastain of 2012 (I hope).

"Moneyball"
I was happy to see a movie about baseball with very little baseball in it (others saw this is a negative), but Brad Pitt's performance as Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane was the film's greatest accomplishment.

"Rise of the Planet of the Apes"

I went in thinking Franco could do no wrong. I walked out thinking, "Franco, who?" This prequel was the most enjoyable surprise of the year.

"Take Shelter"
If you don't know Michael Shannon's name by now, his performance as a husband and father battling apocalyptic visions is the perfect introduction. You most certainly know Jessica Chastain's name after this year, and you'll see why yet again here.

"Weekend"

A gem of a little film about a weekend-long romantic encounter between two young men that transforms them both in subtle, unexpected ways. 

Thanks to everyone who's joined me on this journey through the films of 2011. Here's to a 2012 full of good film, great friends and lots of love.

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"The Artist," and I'm sticking to it.

Jean Dujardin as George Valentin and
 Berenice Bejo as Peppy Miller in "The Artist."
AP Photo/The Weinstein Company

With my 4-star review of "The Artist," I give away one of my top picks of 2011 (the official list runs December 30). After winning a slew of awards from critics groups and festivals (including the San Diego Film Critics Society, which voted it Best Film, my vote included), this black and white silent film is now suffering through something of a backlash with accusations that its story is too slight, the content is low-brow, and its style is merely a "technical exercise" in filmmaking. Obviously I don't agree, though I can see some of what they're saying -- but I loved the film anyway. You can read why in my review.

I was thrilled to get the chance to interview the film's director, Michel Hazanavicius (a name I will forever know how to spell after fixing it in spell check dozens of times), a Frenchman who dazzled me with his ability to articulate the essence of American storytelling during our conversation and in the film itself. You can read the story here.

You also might want to check out Mike Ryan's (Moviefone.com) astute and entertaining explanation of why "It's OK to Like 'The Artist,'" in which he somehow manages to compare the film to the 90s band The Gin Blossoms -- and have it not be an insult.

A friend recently asked me what holiday movies are a must-see for her family, which includes a husband and two college-age sons. When I recommended "The Artist" she scrunched her face up and said with disbelief, "Really? Isn't that the silent movie?" as if that meant it was far too artsy-fartsy for her family's taste. My response was that this is a very mainstream film (hence the backlash, critics are supposed to hate anything mainstream, don't you know) that is perfect for the holidays because it just makes you feel good. 

The way things are going these days, I'll take it where I can get it.

Happy holidays to all! I'll post my top picks of 2011 next week.

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This post will not be about movies.

This post will not be about movies. I feel I deserve a short break from thinking about them after the tornado of screenings, screeners, think lists, nominations and voting I just experienced. (You can read how our critics group voted here and stay tuned later this week for my personal Best of 2011 list.)

Today I want to talk about another important part of my life -- my dog Luna, a border collie mix rescued in Baja after someone found her next to a litter of puppies that had been put into a garbage bag and thrown in the trash.  My (now ex) boyfriend and I adopted her 3 1/2 years ago from The Barking Lot, a phenomenal rescue group that's worth your support.

From the moment we met, I knew she was a sweet old soul. When she first approached me, she stood up on her hind legs up and gently placed her paws on my waist. I loathe dogs that jump on me (sorry labs) but this was different. After she jumped up, she every so gently pulled me in for a hug. I swear, I am not exaggerating.

She was a shedder with white fur - two of my supposed deal breakers right there. We didn't know how old she was and could see that her teeth were a total disaster. It was love at first sight.

Once we got her home it quickly became apparent that I was her go-to human. She was fine with my boyfriend, but only if I was nearby. If I left the room, the house, the dog park, she would go in to what we came to refer to as her "dogatonic" state -- on her back, stiff as a board, totally refusing to move or react, even if she ended up being carried home (she weighs over 40 pounds).

She soon got comfortable with my boyfriend and, eventually, most men. (I try not to imagine what happened to make her so fearful of men.) But she still hung on to a general anxiousness that took a lot longer to dissipate. In fact, I can recall the moment it happened.

It was just a typical early evening walk. All bathroom business before figuring out what's for dinner. On the way home I glanced down and saw my newly transformed dog. Her normally flattened out, suspicious ears were perked up high on her head with eager curiosity. Her normally tucked tail was raised parallel to the sidewalk and swishing side to side in all its bushy glory. Her fear was lifted. She was a confident, happy dog.

I know plenty of people, usually parents, who dismiss a devoted dog owner's love for their pet. Yes, I can admit that my dog (or my cat, who I've been gaga over since 1999) is not the same thing as a human being. I can't speak for the people who spend thousands of dollars on a pure-bred puppy shipped in from Oklahoma, but when I saw my abused, beaten-down rescue dog finally become so comfortable in the life I'd given her that her entire body language changed, well, that feels really damn good.

Since then, I've made it my mission to do whatever possible to keep her ears and tail at an upward angle. Lucky for me, what she required turned out to be exactly what I needed to keep me well-adjusted and (mostly) happy: regular walks through fresh air and pretty scenery, socializing with dog-walking neighbors and, particularly now that I'm single again, a living being who is so happy to see me at the end of the day that I rush home from work excited for the moment I open the door. So, basically, we're a good match.

Though Luna seemed as happy as one animal with emotional baggage could possibly be, a friend, who is also a veterinarian, recently noticed that her teeth looked pretty bad and were likely causing her pain. This was upsetting not just because of her suffering but because my bank account had already suffered $800 worth of dental bills the year prior to have her teeth cleaned and four pulled (like I said, her bad teeth were no secret to us when we adopted her).

To hear that the original vet had barely even dinged the problem was upsetting to say the least. Forget the money. It's the almost two years since then that piss me off. During that time, her infections worsened (as did her breath) and her life was just a little less perky perfect -- all for something we could've got right the first time if only we'd been told that her dental problems were too severe for this general practitioner's skill set.

Luckily, this vet friend told us about the best animal dentist in Southern California, Dr. Brook Neimiec at Dog Beach Dentistry. It wasn't cheap (cough, cough) but after an unspeakable number of extractions, two root canals and gum surgery to root out several infections that the experienced doctor described as "pretty nasty," she's on the road to being an even happier dog.

But first she needed to do a little more suffering post-surgery. This pathetically cute picture pretty much says it all.

Unlike humans, dogs pretty much put the bad experiences behind them almost as fast as they happened. By the end of day two, she was trying to get me to rough-play with her and leaping for joy when I gave her a treat (with a pill surreptitiously packed inside).

It also seems that, since her infections started clearing up, her sense of smell has improved dramatically. On our walks she is uncharacteristically stubborn, insisting that she sniff every blade of grass, branch and fire hydrant on our normal route. The same grass, branches and fire hydrants she has showed no interest in for the six months I've lived here. This passive (non-dogatonic) resistance is way out of character and actually really annoying. But once I figured out the likely cause, I got that same surge of grateful pride. Giving a dog back her sense of smell is like getting a paraplegic to walk again.

Her ears are perked. Her tail is lifted. She is happy again and better than ever (minus 11 teeth, that is). Mission accomplished.

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Scorsese for Kids

Asa Butterfield (left) plays Hugo Cabret and Chloe Grace Moretz
plays Isabelle in HUGO, from Paramount Pictures and GK Films.

Watching Martin Scorsese chatting it up on The Daily Show last week was a revelation. Or maybe it was just a good sales pitch. Either way, his easygoing, lighthearted interview was a far cry from the tightly wound, uber-serious director we've come to know over the decades. Considering his latest film, "Hugo," is aimed at children, I'd say that's a good thing.

I've had my own first-hand experiences with Scorsese over the course of my career -- first as an intern in his small New York production office, and later while working on an American Movie Classics event with his Film Foundation. While I walked away from these jobs with some darn good anecdotes (most notably the time his mother Catherine - you know her as the mother of Joe Pesci's character in "Goodfellas"- nervously pumped me for information about her overworked son when I went to her apartment to pick up a homemade calzone),  I also cite both experiences as the reasons why I opted out of the entertainment business as a career. Or at least the star-pleasing side of the business that requires one to jump at every command, scurry around in a hushed panic, and suppress the ballooning urge to scream, "DID YOU FORGET WHERE YOU CAME FROM?!"  Clearly this was not my cup of tea.

Now that I'm happily ensconced on the outside of that nonsensical hysteria, I don't have to think about what kind of plates the great director requires for his take-out pizza or what pants his tailor needs to alter. I can shove that stuff in the gossip bin where it belongs and enjoy the results of his lifelong dedication to filmmaking, which he puts on display in "Hugo" (read my review here).

That being said, I still like to spill an anecdote or two when the mood strikes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Lean on This

I closed out my day off from work/Veteran's Day/11/11/11 with Thursday night's Colbert Report, which ended on an unexpected note with Colbert, Brian Eno and Michael Stipe's a cappella performance of "Lean on Me." I'd seen a few posts about it scroll by but didn't pay much mind until I saw and heard it for myself. I was truly taken aback by how much joy and comfort that song offers, especially when these guys sing it so earnestly.

Lately it seems like even Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert can't cut through the ugliness we're living through these days, though I still appreciate their efforts at trying. Sometimes the funniest joke can't do what a simply perfect song can, especially when it's sung by such well-intentioned people for no reason other than the joy of doing it. The crowd joined in. There was no showboating, no horsing around. It was just pure sentiment and joy. And it made me feel better.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Brian Eno, Michael Stipe & Stephen Colbert - "Lean on Me"
www.colbertnation.com
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A Singular Olsen Sister

Elizabeth Olsen and Sean Durkin,
star and director of "Martha Marcy May Marlene"
Photo credit: Earnie Grafton, U-T

At last, an Olsen sister who can have her photograph taken without posing in a ridiculous manner. But that's not the only quality Elizabeth Olsen has that's worth celebrating.

I spent some quality time with Olsen, star of the new indie "cult" film (literally) "Martha Marcy May Marlene," when she was in town this summer with the film's writer/director Sean Durkin. We were the only two women at a sparsely attended critics' mixer and, while the men did that thing they do where they show each other how much they know, she and I sat together at a table chatting about going to college in New York City (she's at NYU, I went to Columbia), her suddenly exploding career and how she's the first Olsen sister who actually likes performing (her sisters prefer board meetings for their company, which they've been attending since their tweens).

All in all, it was a pleasure to cross paths with Olsen at this precious moment in her life, between carefree young adult and celebrated actress.

Here's my interview with Olsen and Durkin and my review of "Martha Marcy May Marlene."

You don't have to join any "families" to see the film.

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Bill Cunningham: A pure portrait

My own personal fashion icon, Bill Cunningham

I'm so thankful for having had just enough free time this week to finally catch "Bill Cunningham New York" on Netflix Instant. What an absolutely perfect portrait of a true New York personality. Not the chic, filthy rich, high society New York, but a relic of the days when the city housed personalities known not for their ability to generate money, but for their truly original character.

More than the street fashion he admires enough to photograph, Cunningham himself is the work of art; perhaps the last "honest and straight" person to still be living and admired in New York.  Director Richard Press captures the frugal fashion spotter exactly how he would prefer (if he didn't hate the attention so much) -- simply and naturalistically. 

This delicate, touching portrait officially puts Cunningham right alongside Buck Brannaman on my extremely short list of men I wish would adopt me. If you haven't seen either "Bill Cunningham New  York" or "Buck," do so immediately.

In the meantime, check out my preview of the San Diego Asian Film Festival, running October 20-28 at Hazard Center. As for the Steve Martin, Jack Black, Owen Wilson release "The Big Year," I ask that you only commit the amount of time it takes to read my review, full of many terrible bird puns that couldn't possibly be worse than the film itself.

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