favorite films of the last decade, in very particular order
1. Under the Skin 2. Swiss Army Man 3. Holy Motors 4. The Social Network 5. Whiplash 6. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse 7. Good Time 8. Inception 9. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives 10. The Comedy
11. Ex Machina 12. The Little Hours 13. I, Tonya 14. Birdman or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance 15. Selma 16. Avengers: Endgame 17. Embrace of the Serpent 18. The Big Short 19. Beasts of the Southern Wild 20. The Invitation
thoughts: - I need to see more movies. - I need to see more movies from other countries. - I need to see more documentaries. - I’ve only watched 1 of the 9 movies Werner Herzog made this decade.
My thoughts on Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, with spoilers throughout.
Putrid, sexist exploitation. Put ‘em in their place racism. Fetishized children. And worst of all, at its core an open letter declaring crimes of the past can be washed away by heroics in the present.
I walked into Quentin Tarantino’s latest hoping for an aloof and enjoyable adventure. I expected the movie to be politely detached from Tarantino’s choice to take no responsibility for Harvey Weinstein’s crimes, and aggravatingly indifferent to the rape committed by Roman Polanski, one of the subjects of the story.
I was wrong.
I was wrong to pay for my ticket. I was wrong to be in that theater.
The film is not passive or accidental in its vileness. It is active. Aggressive. Disturbingly intentional, and malicious.
It has a message, and it wants you to fucking hear it.
This can be distilled down by five pieces of the film.
1. Cliff is known as the stunt man who murdered his wife.
While the murder is left ambiguous, Cliff’s wife “deserving” to be killed is not. In a flashback she’s shown to be spitting insults and ingratitude at Cliff, and her implied murder is a dark punchline. After, Cliff is shown to be rightly ostracized in the film community, as it’s an open secret that he’s a wife-killer. But it only causes him discomfort and costs him some jobs, and thanks to Rick he’s even able to keep working.
This sounds an awful lot like Roman Polanski in the aftermath of his rape of a 13 year old girl.
2. Bruce Lee, the action star of color that get’s put in his place by a white guy.
Midway through the movie, Bruce Lee arrives full of swagger. Quentin takes a moment to pontificate over who would win in a fight, Bruce Lee or Muhammad Ali. Pitting two heroes of color against each other to decide which one would be better is bad enough, but that’s not what happens on screen. No, moments after Bruce Lee arrives, he’s put in his place by a white nobody. Quentin dresses him down with a middle aged stunt man who doesn’t like Bruce talking shit on set. For Quentin, Bruce—the action star who came to Hollywood to be a leading man, the man who was forced to be the sidekick to a white man on his own martial arts show—is in need of an ego check.
3. Heroes ask for an ID before fucking children decades younger than them
Where the movie shifted from being gross to abhorrent, is when a Manson girl hitches a ride with Cliff. From moment zero, the camera fetishizes her. Before she gets in, we have a two-shot scene. When Cliff speaks, half the frame is taken up by the girl’s ass as she leans into his car. When she speaks, she’s biting her lip and eyeing every inch of the old man before her. After she gets in, Quentin has the underage girl satisfy his foot fetish by pressing her feet on the windshield. And then, she asks Cliff if he wants to have sex, which Cliff declines only because it’s illegal. He doesn’t protest when she spends the rest of the ride laying with her head in his lap.
This, again, is a scene in a movie that features the character Roman Polanski, who raped a 13 year old girl. Roman’s probation report would later describe that girl as “not only physically mature, but willing.”
4. The young actress gets used and abused
On set, Rick meets an eight-year-old girl who is a true pro. Unfortunately, Quentin punches down, making her professionalism cartoonish and a joke by giving her an over-the-top soliloquy on the responsibility of an actor, and having her ask to be called by her character’s name.
When Rick starts crying, the girl walks over to him, kneels next to him and puts her hand on his leg to console him. And when she calls out Rick for using a cutesy name for her, it’s a punchline at her expense. He returns the favor by making a crack that in 15 years (when the girl will be 23) she’ll feel as useless as he does (he being a middle-aged actor who drinks all night instead of taking his job seriously).
Later on set, Rick’s scene with the girl is disturbing. Not only does his character threaten to shoot her in the head, he asks the hero how much he’s willing to pay for her while clutching her across the chest. Then, Rick improvises by throwing the girl down to the floor, a careless and selfish act for his own acting ends, with zero regard for her.
To cap it all off, after the girl is debased by the tv show’s script and Rick’s throw, Quentin has her go up to Rick to tell him that’s the best acting she’s ever seen. What a miserable low point for her to deliver a high for Rick.
5. Crimes of the past are washed away by heroics of the present
Sure, Cliff is a creepy wife-muderer that is only getting work because his famous buddy. But in the end, he saves the day. What a lovely story for Quentin to write for Roman Polanski, someone who’s past crimes are often brushed aside for the power of his art. Can you really hate either of them for the one bad thing they did, when they’ve done so much good for the world?
In the end, the movie isn’t some careless, fast-and-loose escape. It’s seems deeply concerned with fetishizing underaged girls, who sometimes make it very hard to say no to their advances. Over and over its clear that Quentin thinks some victims have it coming, and even the worst crimes of the past can be forgiven by the actions of today.
Doug drives up in a black Chevy SUV. A huge presence on the street. A luxury house on wheels. Inside, Doug looks small behind the wheel. Black with white grey hair, turtleshell glasses, and a beard trimmed shorter than in his photo on the app.
As we pull away, he tells me he’s listening to Mardi Gras music. He asks if I’ve ever been. I tell him not for Mardi Gras but yes I’ve been to New Orleans.
Passengers have told him not to eat the food down there and that the city smells like a sewer. I agree with him that they’re nuts. Isn’t that true for a lot of cities on the coast?
He’s happy I agree. But says Cairo isn’t like that. That’s where he grew up. Lived on the banks of the Mississippi. He could see down the bend of the river where the steamships were, the big wheels turning.
Loved it there.
Didn’t have to worry about breakfast ever. His mother would go outside and grab an apple, grab a pear, grab a grape. And that was it. And if they didn’t have anything to grab, he could go down the road and get some from the neighbors. People were friendly to one another.
He asks if I’m from Chicago. I tell him I’m from the burbs and have lived here 10 years. “You’re a Chicagoan. You’ve drank that lake water long enough to say that. That’s what I tell people too. I’ve lived here 40 years. I like driving people because I get to see parts of the city I’ve never seen.” He says that happens in every city. “You go to Paris. You go to Amsterdam. You won’t see the whole city. You have to keep going back.”
Doug loved how much sun was out today. Another vortex is coming. You know it’s bad because they might close the schools.
The sun makes him think of eating outside in Europe. Every time Doug was in Paris, people were eating outside. Eating as they go. Out in the sun.
He loves Paris. Traveled there when he was in the military and after. He went to Notre Dame high school and then went to Notre Dame the place. It was so big, all these alcoves, he didn’t realize that there were nuns working there, so he was walking around with his head looking up and one comes out of the shadows with a basket. Scared him half to death. He left the cathedral. He’d had enough for the day.
Ahead of us, a car pulls out in front of another. The other car honks, veers, keeps going.
Everyone’s in such a hurry. He doesn’t like the week days where people are always going somewhere. Sunday’s are usually better. His daughter does this for a living. She asks him when he drives and tells him he’ll never make any money doing it like that, and he tells her yeah, he won’t. He’s just trying to help pay some bills. He doesn’t drive at night like she does. People are different then. He asked her what she’s does when she gets one of those passengers, she says she just drops them off right at the police station.
Once when he was in Paris, he was standing across from the Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Élysées. Doug didn’t know how to get to it, so he just tried to cross the roundabout. Everyone started honking. Thinking who is this guy? What’s he trying to do? He had a trench coat over his arm and a car’s mirror snagged on it. Ripped out the lining. Brand new coat.
We come up to the same car that veered out. Doug slows down and lets the car go. “Come on baby. You can go.”
Doug was supposed to be done driving people at noon and it’s 35 after. I ask if I’m going to be his last for the day. He says he’ll probably pick up a couple more on his way back to the south side.
With the sun so warm, Doug was thinking of barbecuing.
”What do you like to barbecue?”
“Ribs and chicken. Maybe some ribs today.” He makes sure to do ribs when the kids are over.
Doug loves cooking. Always has. In the military he was a cook too. Later on his girlfriends, when he still had girlfriends, they loved to go to his place. All the smells from the food. And none of them could cook.
“I was so cool. I was so cool, Alex. Then one day I wake up and said what’s going on with my pants? Why’s my stomach hanging over them like that.”
He’s hoping the cold is done soon so he and his wife can head to their place in Michigan. Sitting out there growing tomatoes and eating them off the vine.
They have a place outside Grand Rapids. Middle of the forest. Deer everywhere but not too many accidents. Look down the road for 10 miles and not see a car. He and his wife are in an old folks community up there. It’s a de-stressor. “You wake up one day and a kid down the street gets the back of his head blown off. Six people in a club are shot. Sometimes you need to get away.”
In Michigan a bus takes them where they need to be. They do arts and crafts. Kid stuff. “Now take your needle and do this,” he laughs. He loves the small town. The rivalry between Michigan and the Spartans that he sees in the store. And it’s 10 miles to that store so you better not forget anything. Or you’re not going to get it until the next day.
He and his wife met in college. Have been together ever since. Rocky road at times. But now they sit together and he falls asleep watching TV, and his daughter comes up and tells him “hey dad, wake up you’ve got to go to bed.” He laughs more. “We had a good life.”
We’re stuck at a light. Almost there now.
You know people come to Chicago from everywhere. From California. Chicago is the best city in the world in the summer, and they know it.
He’s never been to California though and asks what I thought of it. I tell him LA’s like Paris because it’s city where people have this big idea of what it is before they go, but LA doesn’t live up to it the way Paris does.
He looks back up at the sun and says he hasn’t traveled much lately. The lights green but the traffic hasn’t moved.
I ask where he’d go if he did. “Brazil for Carnevale.” Not a moment’s hesitation. He wants to see the beach of Ipanema. And the girls.
A minute later we arrive. Shake hands. Tell each other how happy we are to have met.
I can’t remember another year I saw so little in theaters. Here is my 2018 in film:
THE BEST Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse Solo: A Star Wars Story Hereditary BlacKkKlansman Black Panther Sorry to Bother You The Death of Stalin Annihilation
THE WORST A Quiet Place
THE REST Vice Ant-Man and the Wasp Deadpool 2 Mission: Impossible - Fallout
Alex’s favorite gaming experiences (in order)
1. Destiny and Destiny 2 A world that captured my imagination, a crucible where friendships were found and forged, the single best gaming experience of my life.
2. Planescape: Torment A novel that could be told no other way. Narrative storytelling perfected.
3. Baldur’s Gate, Baldur’s Gate 2, and Baldur’s Gate: Throne of Bhaal The foundation of my love for fantasy, an epic that you can live.
4. Fallout ½ Dark, intelligent, hysterical, and scary with characters that scream off the screen.
5. Portal ½ A hilariously challenging journey–better written that it has any right to be–that makes every solution feel like a triumph of wit and will.
6. Red Dead Redemption (Similar: LA Noire) A dream. A world of Hollywood and history to walk in, exist in, thrive and die in.
7. Gone Home (Similar: Dear Esther, Firewatch) Dread-filled, beautiful, affecting, and perfectly executed. A story that needs to be felt, and makes you the better for it.
8. Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End (Similar: The Last of Us) Pure adventure, lived by characters that crack and break as they careen into each other and the world around them.
9. Mass Effect 2 Heir to the cinematic throne of science fantasy. An impossible mission full of misplaced hope, discovery, and a gallery of diverse and disparate allies.
10. Far Cry 3 A game where character, narrative, and ability are perfectly paired with gameplay and progression. How you approach the world ties you more impossibly tight to the protagonist and his story, in ways realized and otherwise.
11. Counterstrike 1.6/Source Perfectly demanding of patience and skill. A high risk, high reward battleground sport.
12. Left for Dead 2 (Similar: Diablo 3, Battlefield: Bad Company 2) The ultimate cooperative experience that demands flex and inventiveness from it’s players as it works tirelessly to defeat you.
Honorable Mentions
Unreal Tournament, Duke Nukem 3D, Goldeneye 64 First steps into competitive and cooperative multiplayer
The Witness Beautiful and devastatingly difficult puzzles where victory is a life event
Inside A cinematic sidscrolling masterwork where every frame reinvents what the story is and the game can be.
Batman: Arkham Asylum A study of Batman and comic book characters that is unmatched.
The Secret of Monkey Island Wildly funny and inventive, the best of the golden age of adventure games
Overwatch Addictively rewarding of skill, teamwork, and time investment
The Best The Little Hours Good Time* I, Tonya* The Disaster Artist Logan Get Out Lady Bird Spider-Man: Homecoming Call Me by Your Name The Phantom Thread Thor: Ragnarok It Comes at Night The Big Sick* Wonder Woman
The Worst Blade Runner 2049 Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 A Ghost Story
The Rest Star Wars: The Last Jedi Baby Driver Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Dunkirk John Wick: Chapter 2*
Some callouts: - Swiss Army Man is incredible and important and perfect. - Do you really think La La Land was good? Why?
The Best Swiss Army Man Embrace of the Serpent Moonlight The Lobster The Invitation Manchester by the Sea Rogue One Fences Captain America: Civil War Hell or High Water Deadpool 10 Cloverfield Lane
The Worst La La Land Doctor Strange Tickled
The Rest The Witch The Nice Guys Arrival Hunt for the Wilderpeople
Sarah and I met in the Virginia Theater in April of 2007.
We might have met outside or upstairs first, but I remember her standing in the basement. Maybe she was a little late. Maybe it was the second shift and she had to find us down there. But I remember her special brand of shy self confidence as she waved hello from the dim lit hall.
Illini Film and Video filmed all of the pre and post show discussions for Roger Ebert’s Film Festival. I was the president of IFV and I was there for almost every screening that year because my life was in wonderful shambles.
She was a member, but I didn’t recognize her. She hadn’t been to any meetings, and when I asked her later, the only person she remembered from signing up on Quad day was “a guy in red sunglasses next to a robot”. That was the former president, my sometimes romantic rival and friend.
At Ebertfest, there was a roster of assigned roles for our volunteers: manning one of the three cameras, taking one of the two chairs for directing and live editing the panel, etc. Wherever she was supposed to be, I’m pretty sure I made certain that Sarah would be sitting downstairs with me.
After our hello, I got Sarah a club t-shirt that she changed into in one of the unused greenrooms, and we got to work. I liked her. I already liked her. I got that charge you get sitting next to someone beautiful you want to impress that may have just had their shirt off in the other room.
The screening she came for was Come Early Morning. We filmed the little intro, and then rushed upstairs to find some seats. Sarah and I sat next to each other. I was very happy about that.
It’s hard to even remember now—that excitement you get just being next to a stranger that you want to want to know you—but I still remember her arm being by my arm, and her leg being by my leg, distracting me through half the movie. That was probably the last time I was ever happy to be distracted watching a movie.
After the show, the credits rolled, the crowd cheered, and we dashed downstairs, filmed the interview with Joey Lawrence Adams, and packed up for the day.
Upstairs I found Sarah. She remembers this better than me, but apparently I made some crack about her waiting for an autograph (probably because I’d done that a dozen times myself). What I do remember is talking. Hanging out in the light, getting to know her, trying jokes, succeeding at a few, and in general being jazzed that this person was in front of me.
She said her ride was there, I guessed from the way she was talking that she had a boyfriend. But it was April, and I still had an entire summer and semester to find this girl again.
I left the theater in a state of joy. Just meeting her, I had a contact high. This had never happened to me before, never like this.
I walked outside, into the parking lot, too many people, into a field, and called a friend, Joe Bernier. He wasn’t someone I talked to about these things… I didn’t really have anyone i talked to about these things.
I told him I just met this incredible girl, I described her, what she was like, what I thought about her, why I liked her, and he asked me a completely reasonable question: “that’s great, but why are you telling me this?”
I guess in a way I knew. I knew that I had met the love of my life. I more or less told him that. And 5 months later I’d feel like I was pretty right on the money when I stumbled into her in a crowd.
There were other days where we fell for each-other after this. Catchphrase in my apartment with Jeff. Walking in the fall around Urbana. The 3am trip to Walmart’s DVD pile…
That one I should write down sometime. That’s what falling in love is like.
It’s chatting someone on AIM at midnight to ask if they want to go to Walmart with you to get some westerns to watch.
It’s picking that person up at the dorm and digging through discount movie piles under 24hour fluorescents and sitting down on your bed to watch something incredible and cool with the one person that matters in the universe who’s just as jazzed as you to be watching this thing and sitting next to you.
But I was a lost cause already at that point. I was just trying to bring her around.
