Best of 2005
I'm generally reluctant to recommend films to people, and when I do I offer a standard list of disclaimers that usually ends with "...well, I liked it anyway." Which is an oblique way of saying "This is something I found valuable, and if you value some of the same things I do, you may enjoy this film as well." All of which serves to let me off the proverbial hook in the event that the person I'm recommending it to ends up hating it. I'm never sure if I've loved a film until several days later and the initial emotion of the first viewing has faded.
Having said that, I humbly offer my favourite film of 2005: The Squid and the Whale.
I first saw The Squid and the Whale at the Vancouver International Film Festival where my last short, On A Sunday, was in competition. I had convinced my wife and our film's director and producer to attend, even though none of them had heard of it. Which put me solidly on said proverbial hook.
The Squid and the Whale is a comedy about divorce. Loosely speaking. It's also a coming-of-age story for its teenage protagonist, the eldest of two sons born to two bohemian intellectuals living in Brooklyn's Park Slope in 1986. It is the third feature film from writer/director Noah Baumbach, who co-wrote The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou with Wes Anderson, who wrote and directed one of my favourite films of all time, The Royal Tenenbaums. See how this all works?
Noah Baumbach earned an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay for The Squid and the Whale which was largely autobiographical. Jeff Daniels, who plays the faded patriarch and writer-gone-to-seed, Bernard Berkman, actually wore clothes from Noah's father's wardrobe. Baumbauch shot the film for $1.5 million, on Super 16 millimetre and the camera work is largely handheld, which makes the film feel like it was shot as it happened by a fifth member of the Berkman family.
In the case of the VIFF screening of The Squid and the Whale last year my cohorts enjoyed the film as much as I had, which came as a relief. But sooner or later we all have to defend a film we love that others, often our closest friends or family, hated. For instance, how could I like films as different as Heat and Husbands and Wives? The closest I've ever come to a catch-all statement to defend myself is that the film has to transport me for its duration. Which means that I have to buy into the reality of the film, but I don't necessarily have to like or relate to the characters or subject matter. My parents have one of the healthiest marriages I've ever witnessed, and I've never been to Brooklyn, and yet I have no doubt that that the pain, confusion and absurdity suffered by the Berkman family in The Squid and the Whale is true and authentic.
I don't think that's a lot to ask of a film, (especially at today's ticket prices), but it is a tough thing to accomplish.
Having said that, I humbly offer my favourite film of 2005: The Squid and the Whale.
I first saw The Squid and the Whale at the Vancouver International Film Festival where my last short, On A Sunday, was in competition. I had convinced my wife and our film's director and producer to attend, even though none of them had heard of it. Which put me solidly on said proverbial hook.The Squid and the Whale is a comedy about divorce. Loosely speaking. It's also a coming-of-age story for its teenage protagonist, the eldest of two sons born to two bohemian intellectuals living in Brooklyn's Park Slope in 1986. It is the third feature film from writer/director Noah Baumbach, who co-wrote The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou with Wes Anderson, who wrote and directed one of my favourite films of all time, The Royal Tenenbaums. See how this all works?
Noah Baumbach earned an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay for The Squid and the Whale which was largely autobiographical. Jeff Daniels, who plays the faded patriarch and writer-gone-to-seed, Bernard Berkman, actually wore clothes from Noah's father's wardrobe. Baumbauch shot the film for $1.5 million, on Super 16 millimetre and the camera work is largely handheld, which makes the film feel like it was shot as it happened by a fifth member of the Berkman family.
In the case of the VIFF screening of The Squid and the Whale last year my cohorts enjoyed the film as much as I had, which came as a relief. But sooner or later we all have to defend a film we love that others, often our closest friends or family, hated. For instance, how could I like films as different as Heat and Husbands and Wives? The closest I've ever come to a catch-all statement to defend myself is that the film has to transport me for its duration. Which means that I have to buy into the reality of the film, but I don't necessarily have to like or relate to the characters or subject matter. My parents have one of the healthiest marriages I've ever witnessed, and I've never been to Brooklyn, and yet I have no doubt that that the pain, confusion and absurdity suffered by the Berkman family in The Squid and the Whale is true and authentic.
I don't think that's a lot to ask of a film, (especially at today's ticket prices), but it is a tough thing to accomplish.
4 Comments:
Perhaps thats how I feel about Hudson Hawk and Dune, among the more critically panned movies of the last two decades. I won't defend myself, but I like them.
Plett
I loved Hudson Hawk when it came out. But for me truly great movies have to stand up under subsequent viewings over time. I haven't seen it recently, but my guess is that Hudson Hawk wouldn't. Dune on the other hand...
Perhaps the DaVinci Code should be paying royalties to Hudson Hawk; obviously a direct ripoff of the brilliant premise of Hudson Hawk.
This is what happens when you open up your world to comments. Morons like me finally have a venue.
Great to hear you're getting playtime at festivals. Any other events on the horizon?
Plett.
Initial reports from Cannes indicate that Da Vinci may suffer a similar fate as Hudson Hawk.
Morons like you (Plett) are always welcome.
No festivals on the immediate horizon. OAS has just about finished its festival run, and the new film is in post-production. More on that at a later date.
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