The Myth of the American Sleepover = There’s a fine, fine line between minimalist and listless. This film goes so far into listless while so obviously aiming for a tempered and profound minimalism … it fills itself with all the markers of what we have come to call “indie,” but there is no life behind its eyes. Tiringly on-the-nose dialogue, a cast that indicates more than it acts, banal coverage (and not decidedly so). It has its moments (but what hyperlink film with a large cast doesn’t). I feel the beauty of adolescence is marching on (or not) because of a youth inappreciable by the young. Empty philosophizing that comes from a desire to be, not empty philosophizing that is simply empty (and therefore mostly the writer’s editorializing). Ugh. There’s an even finer line between portraying the glibness of adolescenceg and simply being glib. The only desire here is the desire to be lauded as a fresh! heartfelt! true! indie. All the markers, but no punch.

Kill Bill Vol 1 & 2 = I ended up liking Volume 1 more than its sequel (despite initially ending it in a lacklustre mood) because the films shine most in their unbridled joy at unadulterated violence. The films are best when the scenes become about the enjoyment of choreography and the slow reveal of known information (we know who will die, so all we have to do is sit back and enjoy the unfolding of that fact). An interesting way to watch a film. Overall, I couldn’t stomach the gimmickry, the pastiche taken a step too far. I kept wanting to scream, “I get it, Quentin! You’re referencing!” But pastiche is most potent when you can give old images a new heart. I would love to watch a film about a deadly spy dealing with pregnancy, but in these films it felt like tacked-on sentimentality, a cheap attempt at credibility. Good performances, though.

Pi = Incredibly dated and entirely a product of its time. A harbinger of a wonderful new voice in cinema nonetheless. I spent my entire childhood adding up numbers and searching for patterns, so I identified strongly with the protagonist. But the supporting actors were one step too self-aware—reeked of actors not identifying with their characters—to suck me in. And the psychological thriller was too manifested (bleeding intestines and drilled foreheads are not as scary as madness). Who am I kidding: I liked the spirit of it, but I didn’t like it.

Weekend = Britain’s answer to the mumblecore walkie-talkie (see Quiet City, In Search of a Midnight Kiss, Medicine for Melancholy). This film is in no way new—despite its refreshingly three-dimensional portrayal of a gay relationship—but it shines in its coverage, which hits home its central theme: the fear of being seen (scopophobia). This is where it is a beautiful film. A discussion too many about “being gay,” because this a a result of the director’s (admittedly respectable) agenda. I’m pretty sure gay couples don’t just sit and talk about their struggles with homophobia. But the film redeems itself in its intimate performances.

Triplets of Belleville = What a joy to watch! Triumph of dialogue-free cinema. It’s very rare to be so deeply engrossed in a film that you’re forcefully pulled out its world when the credits roll. Wonderful, rhythmic, and original. Film for the senses!

Bombay Beach = Stellar and inspiring! A great portrait of America today. Its painful, heartfelt realism is unmatched. The intricate texture of its subjects is just unheard of (outside of the likes of Herzog and Korine). The documentary is great, not only because it provides a healthy cross-section of a community-in-squalor, but also because its documentarian’s worldview is a life-affirming one. Har’el finds a unique beauty in the decrepit and manages to stray from empty sentimentality/the desire to redeem her flawed subjects. Their flaws are indicative of a wider American problem, so you cannot belittle or point fingers. Her subjects are people and not scapegoats, they—especially the children—cannot be blamed for who/where they are. Her mix of doc-style realism and fantastical imagery is breathtaking. You just want to stay with these people for the rest of your life.

Martha Marcy May Marlene = Masterful filmmaking but, in his attempt to be shocking, Durkin exposes his lack of wisdom. The perfectly-paced, frequently-chilling, interestingly-framed world of this film cannot mask the fact that it soon devolves into your typical psycho-thriller. Hokey cuts from past to future, simplistic delineations of the cult-world from the real-world, and an almost immature tendency to hold on what we should see as shocking make the film drag on. Durkin sacrifices interiority (integral to any psycho-drama) for hip showmanship. The film is cooler than it is deep. Still, the filmmaking is stellar: the milky colours, the camera placement, the characterization … the scene-by-scene journey is worth placing this film as a 2011 standout. Excited to see what Durkin does next.

Shame = I refused to go in wanting a sequel to Hunger, but I can’t help but say I missed the raw energy of McQueen’s debut feature. This sophomore effort is good for what it is. No, it is not groundbreaking, but each scene (its coverage, its performances) is masterful. It is a unique character study, and its ultimate lack of rawness wonderfully mimics its protagonist’s emotional emptiness. Standout performances from Michael Fassbender (duh) and Nicole Buharie. Also, an interesting portrait of a sibling relationship that wonderfully borders on incest without statement of it. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the way in which Hunger blew my mind.

Le Havre = An enjoyable watch! Not a film to fall over yourself for, but a reminder that there are virtuos@ of cinema (namely those who can bend and break cinematic form to tell their stories). Not a frame, not a line, not a cut felt overly explanatory. I loved Kaurismäki’s toyland world. Even the matter-of-fact line delivery of his non-actors felt premeditated. Ultimately forgettable, but very much worth the watch.

Sleeping Beauty = I’ll admit I went to see this because Julia Leigh was the only woman in competition at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival (smh). An accomplished film. Its sterile, meditative tone and cinematography reach the mastery of Michael Haneke. Leigh manages to challenge our desire to see. I enjoyed experiencing the visual comfort of moving away from stoically-framed gruesomeness to a poetically-framed hand during (what was essentially) a rape scene. Really good direction and amazing casting. But many of its story elements felt awkward, overly quirky, and out of the blue. Not a great film, but adept filmmaking.