I see the desert’s shifting sands, Imbued with that most priceless Spice, A trap that only changes hands When offered blood as sacrifice.
I see it’s home to Fremen rovers And to undulating worms, The former subject to takeovers While the latter heeds no terms.
I see the cruel Harkonnen despots Ripping riches from the land, While the Fremen reap no respites As they flee across the sand.
I see the eager House Atreides Coming here to take control. Though they look like lords and ladies, Who can guess their final goal?
I see an upstart heir-messiah, Barely out of boyhood’s thrall, Soon a scion made pariah, Desert sands to break his fall.
The desert claims what it consumes And chooses whom it will anoint. I see so much (and large it looms) But cannot see beyond this point. _______________________
MPA rating: PG-13
I’ve never read Dune, but my VC has and is an ardent fan of David Lynch’s strange 1984 adaptation, for some reason. While she has yet to see Denis Villeneuve’s new incarnation of George Herbert’s massive sci-fi opus, I was glad for the multiple times she convinced me to see Lynch’s version, since I knew generally what to expect. Herbert’s novel is notoriously dense, with dozens of characters and unfamiliar terms in alien languages, so it was a benefit not going into the movie cold.
Villeneuve has already proven his talent for serious science fiction, from the cerebral but deeply touching Arrival to the lengthy but engrossing Blade Runner 2049, so Dune seemed like a natural next step for the director. The first question: Is it better than the 1984 film? A resounding yes! You can take your pick of what was the main problem with Lynch’s film: the constant internal monologuing, the ultra-compressed plotline, or (what I think) the introduction of so many strange elements of Dune’s world without enough time for them to come off as anything but bizarre. That’s a time issue too, I suppose, but it’s a problem that Villeneuve has countered by splitting his adaptation of the first Dune book into a two-parter, making this year’s installment only Part One.
This protraction of the runtime over two films allows the plot to breathe. That plot is still largely the same – the Atreides house taking control of the desert planet of Arrakis to harvest the hallucinogenic Spice only for things to go very, very poorly – but Villeneuve has carefully chosen what to show and what to leave for later, such as providing glimpses of the home planets of the Atreides and Harkonnen clans while leaving the Emperor and the giant-headed mutant Guild Navigators off-screen and only mentioned. There is also more room for character development, mainly for the young messianic heir Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), his noble father Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac), and skilled fighter Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa), the latter a major figure in the books who gets way more screen time here than in Lynch’s film.
Villeneuve’s Dune is rightfully being lauded not just for its improved adaptation and talented all-star cast (including Rebecca Ferguson, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgard, and Javier Bardem) but for just how immersive his on-screen world is. Like Gravity, this is a film that was made to be experienced in a theater, with that blaring Hans Zimmer score accentuating how massive the spaceships and architecture are as Shakespearean backstabbing plays out amidst quasi-religious drug reveries and space colonialism. While Chalamet didn’t impress me that much as Paul, he and the rest of the cast embrace their roles fully to sell how this strange future universe is their own. Likewise, the set design and special effects bring the explosive battles and gargantuan sand worms to startling life, making the film a shoo-in for technical Oscars next year.
But then there’s the second question: Did I like this new version of Dune? Well, sort of. With Lynch’s film, I could still appreciate the underlying story that Herbert created, and here, there is even more to appreciate to bring that story to the big screen. I’m convinced that Villeneuve’s Dune is the best possible version of this story, but I’m still not sure if it’s a story I can say I enjoy. Even with the extra time to get to know the characters, I still didn’t really connect with any of them, which is perhaps unavoidable considering how far removed they are from the world we know. Plus, as with the Hobbit films and Infinity War, it’s hard to make a final appraisal of Part One when the full story is yet to come, though thankfully Part Two has been confirmed. Several characters just drop away without knowing their fates, while other clearly important characters, like Zendaya’s blue-eyed Chani of the native desert-dwelling Fremen, get little screen time except for slow-motion dreams.
So Dune: Part One is an immense achievement of filmmaking and a worthy adaptation of its famed source that may be more accessible than Lynch’s film but is still bound by the limitations of the same story. Perhaps that’s a matter of personal taste that might be solved by repeat viewings, but I’m still glad the long-awaited epic was worth the wait on a visual level alone.
Best line: (Jamis, in one of Paul’s visions) “The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve, but a reality to experience. A process that cannot be understood by stopping it. We must move with the flow of the process. We must join it. We must flow with it.”
“The first Asian hero!” the headlines declare, A landmark of cinema, and you were there. It’s representation I’m glad to endorse, And long overdue as a matter of course. Yet somewhere I feel Wong is crying a river And can’t help but feel quite a bit like chopped liver. And Hogun, Thor’s buddy so fleetingly brought in, Somewhere in Valhalla is feeling forgotten. And ol’ Jim Morita, a Howling Commando, Had no superpowers but still made his stand, though. So yes, it’s important, the first Asian lead, But let’s not forget someone had to precede. _______________________
MPA rating: PG-13
In contrast to 2020, I’ve been lucky enough to see all of Marvel’s releases this year in the theater, but whereas I was alone for Black Widow in an empty theater, I got to see Shang-Chi with friends. It really felt like the movie theater experience was truly back. It also helped that it was a kick-butt blockbuster and one of the best origin movies of the recent MCU.
I consider myself at least somewhat hip to comic book lore, and I had never heard of Shang-Chi before his own solo film was announced. Although the character dates back to the ‘70s when he was introduced as the son of Fu Manchu and modeled off Bruce Lee, the public unfamiliarity with the character allowed Marvel Studios to craft their own synthesis of story elements, from the ten rings of the Mandarin (previously impersonated in Iron Man 3) to a cosmic monster that ranks as one of the more obscure villains in Marvel history. Here, Shang-Chi’s father is Wenwu (Chinese superstar Tony Leung), an ancient warlord granted immortality and great power by ten arm rings, or bracelets if you get right down to it. Trained from childhood to be a master of martial arts, Shang-Chi or “Sean” (Simu Liu) escapes to live a normal life as a valet in San Francisco, only to be dragged back into the world of lethal assassins and mystical secrets, along with his friend Katy (Awkwafina) and sister Xialing (Meng’er Zhang, in her mainstream film debut).
Just as Crazy Rich Asians revitalized the rom com with its all-Asian cast, Shang-Chi succeeds in satisfying Marvel’s efforts at diversity with a superhero film that is good in its own right (and reunites Awkwafina and Michelle Yeoh too; now I wonder if they’ll ever run into Gemma Chan of Eternals). I haven’t seen Simu Liu in the Canadian sitcom Kim’s Convenience, but Marvel once more excels at casting likable heroes, both on- and off-camera. His camaraderie with Katy and his tortured past with his father paint him as a would-be assassin just trying to live a normal life, and Liu’s charisma opposite Awkwafina and Leung really sells the character, even if the other two outshine him at times. Katy becomes one of the most endearing and actively involved Marvel love interests, and Wenwu is the best kind of villain, the type whose motivations are not only misguided but understandable and sympathetic even.
No Marvel movie is perfect, of course, and Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is no different. The final battle is both an awesome spectacle and a CGI mish-mash, and one training sequence results in some unrealistically fast skill growth. Perhaps there is an overreliance on flashbacks too. Yet Shang-Chi is also Marvel’s first big-screen foray into stunt-heavy martial arts, which never disappoint, from a thrilling free-for-all on the side of a skyscraper to an artful wuxia-style fight/dance reminiscent of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (hello, Michelle Yeoh again). Shang-Chi may not break any molds and may not be the funniest or most powerful of Marvel properties, but it’s still an outstanding debut for Marvel’s first Asian lead, with just a few welcome cameos to introduce him to the larger MCU. It’s my favorite Marvel release of the year so far, and I look forward to seeing how they’ll use this new corner of Marvel mythos.
Best line: (Shang-Chi’s aunt, played by Yeoh) “You are a product of all who came before you, the legacy of your family. You are your mother. And whether you like it or not, you are also your father.”
What’s lost is lost forevermore, It can’t be as it was before. Our memories are tethered more To wisps of smoke and whispered lore Than any solid souvenirs That lasted past the days of yore.
The lovers of the lost are faced With echoes that recede in haste. No matter how they’re called or chased, They leave our mortal feet outpaced, Assured that lovers left in tears Won’t let their vestige be erased. ___________________
MPA rating: R (mainly for a long and unnecessary sex scene, could be PG-13 without it)
This psychological thriller Blindspot would probably have been better suited for October, but I’m still in catch-up mode here. Don’t Look Now was one of the films on the list about which I knew very little going in, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from what I believed to be an acclaimed horror from the ‘70s. Based on a Daphne du Maurier story and released in the UK as a double feature with The Wicker Man, Don’t Look Now is not really a horror film to me, unless you would consider Rebecca one as well. Both du Maurier adaptations are far more concerned with psychological uneasiness and characters’ inner self-doubt than your standard scarefest, so the “psychic thriller” moniker on the film’s poster fits well.
Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie play married couple John and Laura Baxter, whose young daughter Christine drowns tragically at their British home. Still reeling from grief, they move to Venice, where John has been commissioned to restore a decaying church. Laura happens to meet two sisters in a restaurant, one of whom is blind and psychic, telling Laura that she saw her deceased daughter. The psychic woman later warns her that John is in danger and has psychic abilities himself, even as he begins seeing his daughter’s red coat along the darkened canals of Venice.
Don’t Look Now is clearly interested in not just frights but art, the kind that alienates just as much as it interests. A uniquely choppy editing style sometimes intercuts seemingly unrelated scenes, playing into the theme of precognition to make the audience doubt what they’re watching at a particular time. This applies to an extended and apparently infamous sex scene, which could easily have been excised but likely is defended as art for its editing. While the editing isn’t always to my taste, it does serve to focus the viewer on the film’s recurring motifs, such as water, broken glass, and reflections, carefully crafted imagery I didn’t fully appreciate until reading about the film afterward.
As for the performances, Sutherland and Christie are quite convincing as a couple sharing grief but torn apart by how they respond to the idea of their daughter contacting them. They serve as the main point of sympathy, and, through their British presence in an Italian city, the film fosters its sense of otherness and anxiety, as if the rest of the cast are watching them from a distance and refusing to let them in on a secret. The two sisters (Hilary Mason, Clelia Matania) waver between unnerving and kindly, though the psychic one adds to the film’s intermittent weirdness, such as a séance where she practically reenacts the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally.
As with many artsy critical darlings, Don’t Look Now is a film I can appreciate more than I enjoyed it. It’s clearly had an impact on filmmakers to come, with many directors citing its influence, and the image of a child in a bright red jacket has carried over into other films like Schindler’s List and Flatliners. The film excels in building an atmosphere of menace in its Venetian setting, particularly during a tense accident and the climax, but the editing of that climax seemed to suggest some deeper reveal that didn’t make itself clear. An admirably Hitchcockian examination of grief, Don’t Look Now manages to be at once well-crafted, odd, and ultimately unsatisfying.
Best line: (Inspector Longhi, with an interesting observation) “Age makes women grow to look more like each other. Don’t you find that? Old men decay, and each becomes quite distinct. Women seem to converge, eh?”
Silence your cell phones, your children, your pets, Or else you won’t have long to live with regrets. Everything’s changed, in an instant or less, Necessity-drawn to acute quietness.
Earth and its racket must screech to a halt As whispers and shushing become our default. A snap of a twig or reaction to pain Can rain certain death on the noisy insane.
Flee without footsteps and scream without sound, And grieve without digging or pounding the ground. Meet the new normal, devoid of a voice. Silence is golden; there’s no other choice. __________________________
MPA rating: PG-13
I may not be much for horror in general, but A Quiet Place was exactly the kind I most enjoy, taut and suspenseful rather than gross and gory. John Krasinski’s story of relentless blind creatures hunting anything that makes a noise was viewed from the perspective of a single family of survivors attempting to make the most of the apocalyptic situation, as quietly as possible on their farm until everything falls apart. A lot has changed since the first movie in 2018: beyond the obvious world-changing pandemic that delayed the film’s release for over a year, I remember seeing the first film with my dad in the theater. Just as the previous film left the Abbott family without their patriarch Lee (Krasinski), I watched Part II alone in the theater, having lost my dad as well. When I realized the parallel, it was a sobering thought that helped me connect even more with their struggle, as they venture beyond their ruined farm in search of other survivors and safe places.
The film starts with a flashback to when the alien invaders first came to earth, a harrowing sequence that gives Krasinski (also directing) a chance for a cameo. Soon though, we pick up right where Part 1 ended, with mother Evelyn (Emily Blunt), deaf daughter Regan (Millicent Simmonds), timid son Marcus (Noah Jupe), and Evelyn’s newborn baby venturing away from home after finding a way to kill the creatures with Regan’s hearing aid static. While the first film was solely about survival, Regan sees her hearing aid as a chance to fight back against the creatures, grudgingly aided by tortured neighbor Emmett (Cillian Murphy).
My appreciation for A Quiet Place was somewhat muted by the fact that its plot felt so similar to the 2015 film Hidden, which also featured a family quietly hiding from lurking enemies. Hardly anyone saw Hidden, though (a shame, since it’s a great film), so I suppose the originality issue only bothers me. This time, however, Part II is able to chart its own course, making it feel more original and unpredictable. Krasinski proves once more how adept he is at building up the tension across several parallel storylines, with only a few of the typical “dumb” decisions common to the horror genre. By the end, A Quiet Place Part II becomes almost a coming-of-age story for Regan and Marcus, with Simmonds and Jupe proving to be two of the best child actors today. It does share the abrupt ending of the first film, but luckily there is already a Part III in the works that we can only hope will conclude this series on a high note. It’s an above-average horror tale that deserves it.
Best line: (Emmett, to Regan) “And you were right. I’m nothing like him [Lee]. You are.”
Rank: List-Worthy (joining the first film and Hidden)
Would every war have been the War To End All Wars, we sigh, That dealers of demise and gore Would not be fashioned anymore From friends and fathers summoned for To fight and kill or else to die.
How many heroes, horror-hewn, Have died for lack of peace, Both peace from battles body-strewn And peace of mind, that distant boon? No haunted human is immune, From memories that never cease.
A hero may not ever meet Recipients of peace. The foolish, thoughtless, and elite Think heroism obsolete, But we will not forget their feat, For neither do our memories cease. ___________________
MPA rating: TV-14 (violence somewhere between a strong PG-13 or a light R)
Like last year with Journey’s End, it seemed like Veteran’s Day was the right time for a World War I movie. The Lost Battalion may have been a TV movie created for A&E, but it holds up with the best films about World War I. Grown-up child star Rick Schroeder plays Major Charles Whittlesey, a former New York lawyer who grudgingly follows his general’s commands and leads the Army 77th Infantry Division to take the Argonne Forest, only to be cut off from all support as they hold their ground. The true story was first told in a 1919 silent film (which is available on YouTube), but, unlike that version, the 2001 film never leaves the battlefield, showing the cost-heavy struggle in all its savagery and heroism.
It’s easy for World War I films to be boiled down to trench warfare, so grimly brought to life in films like 1917 and Journey’s End, but it was a change of pace for The Lost Battalion to leave the trenches behind and mostly take place in a forest setting. Schroeder does an excellent job as a weary commander forced by duty to lead his men into certain doom, while the rest of the cast excel at depicting the mixed ethnicities that fought alongside each other on the battlefield. The violence was stronger than I expected for a TV movie, with blood spatter that still doesn’t come close to Saving Private Ryan or Hacksaw Ridge (which also featured the 77th), but the cinematography and editing go a long way toward making the battle more chaotic and dire. The Lost Battalion is a reminder of many things – the stubborn courage of American soldiers, the bitter pill of “acceptable losses,” the military bonds that transcend racial conflict – but, as with so many war films, it makes me grateful to all who have fought for freedom.
Best line: (Major Whittlesey) “Two days ago, we had a Chinese working our field phone, an American Indian for a runner. They’re both dead, but that’s not the point. These Italian, Irish, Jews, and Poles, they’d never hire me as an attorney. We wouldn’t be seen at the same events. But we will never in our lives enjoy the company of finer soldiers or better men than we do tonight.”
There once was a spider I hated, A creature that God had created. It helped to cull pests, The most useful of guests, But I didn’t care so I slayed it. ________________________
MPA rating: PG-13
I may not be a fan of the horror genre in general, but Halloween is a good excuse to seek out some new scary movies I might actually like. Supernatural horror is usually my preferred cup of tea, with a greater focus on tension over gore, but there’s one subgenre that often gets overshadowed by all the zombies and vampires out there – the nature creature feature.
When I was a kid, two things truly terrified me: the clown from Poltergeist and spiders. And unfortunately, I could only reassure myself that one of those wasn’t real. I would freak out at the mere sight of a spider on the playground, and I used to paper-clip notecards over the spider pictures in my biology book. So it’s no surprise at all that I never expected to see a film titled Arachnophobia in my life. I don’t know if this is common, but my once-severe antipathy toward spiders eased over time. I’ll still kill any that dare cross my threshold, but I can at least look at them without cringing. Maybe I just got used to Shelob and Charlotte.
The debut of director Frank Marshall, Arachnophobia is basically Jaws for spiders, taking an intimidating but largely non-threatening animal and turning them into a bloodthirsty monster seemingly targeting humans. An unfortunate American photographer (Mark L. Taylor) goes with a British spider expert (Julian Sands) to investigate new species in the Amazon rain forest before being bitten and killed by an unusually aggressive and resilient specimen. When his body is sent back to small-town California, the spider hitches a ride, beginning a series of unexplained deaths for new arachnophobic doctor Ross Jennings (Jeff Daniels) to figure out.
I was prepared for Arachnophobia to bring back my discomfort with arachnids, and certain scenes with large numbers of the crawlies emerging from throughout a house did give me the willies. The fact that much of the lurking and eventual confrontations with the spiders take place in everyday home locations add to the squirm factor, since you never know what could be prowling just out of sight in the places you feel safest.
Yet I found myself more entertained than scared, thanks to the unrealistic lethality of the spiders and the slight camp of the plot. John Goodman plays a scene-stealing pest control expert, whose arrogance belies an unusual competence for someone in this kind of movie, and there’s an undercurrent of dark irony as Dr. Jennings’ patients keep getting killed right after he examines them. The film never fully embraces its comedy label, but somehow it totally sells a face-off between Jeff Daniels and a tarantula. With Amblin Entertainment as one of its production companies, Arachnophobia has a Spielbergian vibe to it that feels more like E.T. than Jaws. I might have been able to handle it as a kid too, but then again it might have just made me even more skittish. At least now I know I’m over my fear of those eight-legged freaks… I mean, friends. See, no repressed spider hatred around here….
Best line: (Ross, after killing a spider) “Therapy.”
What looms within the human heart, Unwilling ever to depart, Is easy to depict in art For everyone to see:
The darkness and the violent lusts, Sin that beguiles and disgusts, That takes our innocence and rusts To gag morality.
It must be seen, the world insists, To show the horror that exists. Its advocates are but realists, As ugly truth they show.
Perhaps that truth is worth a peek, If only for what not to seek, But excess horror lacks critique And merely lets it grow. ______________________
MPA rating: R (strong language and violence, plus nudity in the Redux version)
And here I am finally halfway done with my 2021 Blindspot series… in late October. Okay, so I’m still behind this year, but I’m gaining ground. I had considered Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now for my Blindspot list in past years, but I remembered my mom saying how much she didn’t enjoy it. But it is a classic, right? It’s a monument of modern filmmaking, a testament to the senseless horror of the Vietnam War, a character study of men on the edge of sanity making hard decisions and quoting poetry. Yes, it’s all of these things, and I didn’t much care for it.
Somewhat based on Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and relocating the novel’s river journey from the African Congo to wartime Vietnam, Apocalypse Now is as much a psychological contemplation as it is a tour of the Vietnam War. Interspersed with nighttime shootouts and upriver ambushes, Army Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) waxes philosophical over the bleakness of battle and his internal moral debate of what he will do when he encounters Kurtz (Marlon Brando), the effective but crazed colonel his superiors have sent Willard to kill. At times, the film’s tone almost turns into dark comedy, as when Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore (Robert Duvall) insists on surfing in the middle of a beach assault, but it yields to hallucinogenic nihilism by the end, which is more of a whimper than a bang, to borrow from the film’s own T.S. Eliot quote.
I technically watched Apocalypse Now Redux, the 2001 director’s cut that added 49 minutes to the original runtime, including 20 minutes that Coppola later removed again for yet another director’s cut in 2019. When I later read what the additional material was, I wasn’t surprised since they weren’t really needed. The longest added sections, including a stopover with Playboy bunnies and a visit to a plantation of French holdouts, not only slow down the pacing but mainly serve to make the film even more R-rated, adding in two sex scenes absent from the original.
On one hand, I can recognize what captured the regard of so many critics. Coppola’s direction is often top-notch, particularly during a sequence where Willard walks through a chaotic, flare-lit camp under attack, which is like a carnival battlefield from hell. I can’t fault the acting either, from Brando’s climactic soliloquy justifying his actions to Duvall’s mercurial officer who flits from cruel to kind and says “Someday this war’s gonna end” almost with regret. It was nice to see Laurence Fishburne in an early role, as well as minor parts for Harrison Ford, Scott Glenn, and Dennis Hopper.
Yet for all its strengths, the film ultimately feels aimless, with its inevitable climax just happening with no subsequent consequences, reactions, or closure for anyone involved. Its status as a critical darling makes me feel like I’m in the minority in disliking it, but it’s a lot like Blade Runner, another technically impressive Blindspot that proved to be style over substance, petering out with no effort to satisfy the audience. I suppose that’s a sign of creative independence and art, but it doesn’t make it a film I care to watch again. I’ve seen people complain that Apocalypse Now was snubbed for the Best Picture Oscar in favor of Kramer vs. Kramer, but I’m glad the smaller, more personal film won. On some level, others must have felt the same as I do.
Best line (not going for the obvious “I love the smell of napalm” line): (Willard, quoting Kurtz) “In a war, there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action – what is often called ruthless – what may in many circumstances be only clarity, seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it, directly, quickly, awake, looking at it.”
The leafless woods’ alarming hem Does greet our eyes on every side. A wall for us but not for them, Where those we do not speak of hide.
Branches hang low But point to the sky To silently show Where we go when we die.
The elders say our safety’s sure Within the glen the village claims, But who can feel safe or secure When watched by creatures without names?
Nobody sees, And nobody hears, But none disagrees, And everyone fears. _______________________
Since starting out his career as a director with three excellent films in my view (The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs), M. Night Shyamalan has certainly had his ups and downs, with The Last Airbender being the low point. Nowadays his films are greeted with a mixture of optimism and misgivings, but back in 2004, there was still good reason to have high hopes for his fourth feature, The Village. Seen as a turning point between “good Shyamalan” and “bad Shyamalan,” The Village is indeed a middle-of-the-road effort with a plot that can’t help but buckle under its expected assumptions.
The titular village of Covington is home to a collection of folk living their best 19th-century life, including Ivy (Bryce Dallas Howard in her first major role), the blind daughter of the village’s Chief Elder (William Hurt), and Lucius Hunt (Joaquin Phoenix), a young man who wants to leave the village and venture to the distant towns for medical supplies. Yet the elders forbid leaving the village due to the ever-present fear of what lies in the surrounding woods, red-cloaked creatures known as “Those We Don’t Speak Of.”
There are plenty of elements to admire about The Village, notably James Newton Howard’s haunting Oscar-nominated score, which I heard and loved long before I even considered seeing its source. Shyamalan’s adroit camerawork and use of color also add to the atmosphere, and as with his other films, the script and camera are careful to only reveal what he wants the audience to know. The problem is that a thinking audience who knows Shyamalan’s penchant for twists can fill in gaps. While I went in knowing what to expect, my VC did not and yet still guessed the main “twist” long before its reveal. Plus, it feels like it ends too soon, with one subplot regarding romantic tension between William Hurt and Sigourney Weaver’s characters going nowhere.
I can see how The Village can be mocked and defended in equal measure. Its story might be labeled “dumb” (and has), but it’s far more psychological than the horror tale it may seem like on the surface. I could see it as a short story from some acclaimed writer, with its character archetypes and old-timey dialogue. (By the way, the quaint dialogue is both a plus and a minus. Most of the actors make it work, but Judy Greer’s delivery of one line is especially cringe-worthy.) The Village is not necessarily a bad film, but it’s a very fragile one, liable to fall apart if you ask too many questions. It’s neither as scary nor as deep as it wants to be, but it’s still a far sight better than Shyamalan’s low points since.
Best line: (Ivy) “Sometimes we don’t do things we want to do so that others won’t know we want to do them.”
It’s been a while since I posted any Top Twelve lists, but this one is particularly overdue. My lists of favorite movies of the year are usually long after the New Year, when most people post them, just because I typically take longer to watch all the worthwhile films of the year. But in the past, I have at least posted my top songs of the previous year in January, which was foiled in 2020/2021 due to a tight school schedule. Now that I am finally through with school, it’s time to revisit the great musical gifts that 2020 had to offer.
To be quite honest, I consider 2020 a rather weak year for movies but a fantastic one for music. It was hard to pare down the list to a Top Twelve, considering how many other favorites ended up in the Runners-Up. I always find it interesting how my tastes continue to diverge from what is mainstream and popular; only one of these songs ended up in the Billboard Top 10, and you can bet Cardi B and Billie Eilish are nowhere to be found.
As always, there are no doubt songs I’ve missed along the way that I hope to discover at some point. My 2019 list seemed watertight at the time, but it wasn’t until this year that I was introduced to The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” or Mika’s whole My Name Is Michael Holbrook album. Speaking of the latter, I sort of retroactively assess years by the artists I fall in love with, such as Florence and the Machine in 2016, Kygo in 2017, etc. And 2020 continued this trend, making me a huge fan of Mika, Sparks, and The Orion Experience, all of which have been around for years and deserve way more attention. (Sparks did get a documentary this year called The Sparks Brothers, which I hope to review at some point.)
While most of these songs may not have been mainstream hits, I consider all of them modern classics at this point. Hopefully, you readers will agree, but if not, let me know what your favorite songs of 2020 were. It was a tough year for many reasons, but good music can make hard times more bearable and even fun. It takes more searching these days, but I’m always grateful that great tunes like these are still being created.
12. “Can I Believe You” – Fleet Foxes
Dropped on the autumnal equinox with little fanfare, literally the day after being announced, Shore is the latest album from Fleet Foxes, and while I wasn’t very familiar with their previous work, I was blown away with this dreamy folk tour de force. It was hard to pick a favorite among songs like “Quiet Air/Gioia,” “Young Man’s Game,” and “Jara,” but I settled on “Can I Believe You,” the kind of subdued jam that sends you to another plane when you close your eyes while listening.
11. “Lights Go Down” – I Dont Know How But They Found Me
Deriving their name from a Back to the Future quote and their lead singer from Panic! at the Disco, I Dont Know How But They Found Me made an exciting alt rock debut with their Razzmatazz album. Though “Leave Me Alone” and “New Invention” got more exposure, “Lights Go Down” is the clear standout for me. Those instantly memorable synth notes at the beginning give way to a similarly toe-tapping chorus and sax solo that are simply infectious.
10. “Kings & Queens” – Ava Max
Aside from the next song, this is the only other song on the list that I actually heard on the radio. Ava Max could be dismissed as a wannabe Lady Gaga, but I’ve enjoyed her work since “Sweet but Psycho” three years ago. The catchy beat and guitar solo of this anthem of female empowerment meld pop and rock in an effortlessly appealing single.
9. “Dynamite” – BTS
Yes, this is the monster hit that topped the Billboard Hot 100 and set multiple Guinness world records, and with good reason. Since I typically spurn rap, I wasn’t much of a fan of BTS before, and it’s perhaps a little ironic that their first English-language hit and the song that won me over was written by someone else. But who could resist this exuberant pop smash, making full use of the K-pop juggernaut’s energy and harmonies and somehow landing a spot on Rolling Stone’s updated list of the Top 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. It’s a perfect summer hit.
8. “Need Each Other” – TWRP, featuring Planet Booty
I missed out on featuring TWRP’s “Starlight Brigade” on my list of 2018 songs (since I only discovered them in 2019), but I am glad to not repeat that oversight here. The costumed Canadian band once more killed it with their Over the Top album, and while “Black Swan” seemed like the obvious choice, I had to pick “Need Each Other,” a funk-fueled collab that extols the feelings of community and mutual love that were most needed during the pandemic’s worst days.
7. “Daniel, You’re Still a Child” – Declan McKenna
Not only do I love the inventive green-screen music video, but Declan McKenna’s “Daniel, You’re Still a Child” is an eminently sing-alongable jam that never gets old, even if I don’t fully understand the potentially dark meaning of the lyrics. I could have also gone with “The Key to Life on Earth” or “Beautiful Faces,” since the whole Zeroes album rocks, but “Daniel” is the real stand-out.
6. “A Good Song Never Dies” – Saint Motel
I don’t dislike Billie Eilish’s theme song for No Time to Die, but this song proves beyond a doubt that Saint Motel needs to do a James Bond theme. “A Good Song Never Dies” already sounds like one, and the horns and bassline have swaggering style to spare. It also makes them the only returning band from my 2019 list, further cementing them as one of my favorites and one of the most underrated groups out there. Special mention for “Preach.”
5. “My God” – The Killers, feat. Weyes Blood
Through most of the year, I was sure that “Caution,” the lead single from Imploding the Mirage, would be The Killers’ obvious entry on my list, but then I heard “My God.” This anthem of catharsis is The Killers at their best, and Weyes Blood’s pure voice during the bridge gives me chills every time. Special mention for “Lightning Fields” as well.
4. “All That” – Sparks
Last year was the year I discovered Sparks, the duo that have been making fantastic, quirk-filled music for over fifty years with nowhere near the acclaim they deserve. They’re still going strong with the album A Steady Drip, Drip Drip, with “All That” being the best. With its wistful, nostalgic lyrics and clapped beat, it sounds like both the culmination of a long career and a classic that’s been around for years. With Edgar Wright’s recent documentary about the Mael brothers, I’m glad Sparks is getting more attention. Special mention for “Self-Effacing” and “Left Out in the Cold.”
3. “My Rajneesh” – Sufjan Stevens
In 2020, I also gained a greater appreciation for the poetic delicacy of Sufjan Stevens. While the year saw a whole album from the auteur, with great songs like “Video Game,” “America,” and “Tell Me You Love Me,” the highlight somehow didn’t make it on the album. The B-side of “America” and running for 10 minutes, “My Rajneesh” is an endlessly inventive meditation on spirituality encapsulating his odd artistry. The extended fadeout is a bit anticlimactic, but the high points are glorious.
2. “Someday” – Kygo, with Zac Brown
And Kygo once more returns to the list, having scored #4 for the 2017 list and #3 for the 2018 list. (I guess he keeps going up.) While many artists held live remote concerts during the lockdowns, Kygo’s Golden Hour festival was a highlight of them all. With my dad’s passing still in my mind, “Someday”’s hopeful themes of missing someone just spoke to me, and the combination of country and tropical house is a perfectly catchy combination to boot. Special mention to “Lose Somebody” and “Broken Glass.”
1. “Before We Drift Away” – Nothing But Thieves
Honestly, I was really torn on which song would snag the top spot, since any of the top 5 could have won that honor. But when listening to all of them in sequence, the building momentum of this one became self-evident. Starting dreamy and peaceful, the mounting strings and drums erupting into the chorus take it to another level of sublime pop rock. “Before We Drift Away” wasn’t even a single, but I love it dearly, and it kills me that Nothing But Thieves is still largely unknown in the U.S. Special mention for “Moral Panic” and “Is Everybody Going Crazy?”
And that concludes yet another yearly song countdown. Better late than never, right? What did you think of my list? Let me know whether you agree with my musical tastes or think I’ve been locked down for too long, and be sure to share your own favorites from 2020 as well. It may have been a crappy year, but at least there was great music to help us all through. As always, below is my long list of runners-up, continuing the countdown in order (#13, #14, etc.), so hopefully you’ll find some new favorites among my list as well.
“Medicine Man” and the rest of the Lush Life album – The Orion Experience
“Thank You”, “Phoenix”, and “Symphony” – Sheppard
“The Gate” and “The Door” – Caroline Polachek
“Say Something” and “Magic” – Kylie Minogue
“Bummerland” – AJR
“Crocodile Tears”, feat. Jens Hult and “Nights Like That”, feat. Georgia Ku – BUNT.
“Lost in Yesterday” and “Why Won’t They Talk to Me?” – Tame Impala
“No Ordinary” – Labrinth
“Lost in Paradise” – ALI, feat. Aklo
“Night Crawling,” “Golden G String,” and “Plastic Hearts” – Miley Cyrus
Love Goes album and “The Lighthouse Keeper” – Sam Smith
“Physical,” “Break My Heart,” and “Levitating”, – Dua Lipa
“Think about Things” – Daði Freyr
“Changes” and “Modern Loneliness” – Lauv
“Bury Us” – The Naked and Famous
“In Your Eyes” – The Weeknd
“All Eyes on You”, “Forever Alone”, and “Godsent” – Smash Into Pieces
“La Vita Nuova” – Christine and the Queens, ft. Caroline Polachek
“Moonshine” and “Pluma” – Caravan Palace
“It’s All So Incredibly Loud” and “Heat Waves” – Glass Animals
“Zombie Prom” and “Oh My God” – Kaiser Chiefs
“Why Try” and “Nominated” – Ginger Root
“Papa” – Scott Helman
“Synthian” and “Gave Up on Us” – NINA
“Gold” and “Last Night on Earth” – Paloma Faith
“Le Coeur Holiday”, feat. Soprano, and “Belle D’Estate” – MIKA
“Box in My Head” and rest of The Symbol Remains album – Blue Oyster Cult
“In Your Eyes” – Robin Schulz, feat. Alida
“Husavik” – from the movie Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga
“Everyone Changes” feat. Gabrielle Aplin, “Sometimes”, and “Wherever You Are” – Kodaline
“Head & Heart” – Joel Corry x MNEK
“And It Breaks My Heart” and “Who You Lovin” – LÉON
“Maybe I” – Seven Billion Dots
“Higher” – Bishop Briggs
“Chinatown” – Bleachers, ft. Bruce Springsteen
“Headphones”, “19,” and “Irony” – FAITH
“I’ll Get By” and “Born in California” – Avi Kaplan
“Comeback” – Carly Rae Jepson, ft. Bleachers
“Dancing in the Dark” – Frank Walker
“Rosenrot” – Faun
“All My Love” – Elderbrook
“Who I Am” and “Prover” – Milet
“Gravity” and “Acacia” – Bump of Chicken
“Heaven on My Mind” – Becky Hill & Sigala
“Blood Bonds” and “Paranoia” – Nathan Wagner
“Under the Sun” – Bakermat
“Sign” – Roosevelt
“Lucid” and “Paradisin’” – Rina Sawayama
“Losing My Mind”, “Roman Empire”, and “Can You Feel the Sun” – Missio
“Break Up Song” and “Happiness” – Little Mix
“幸せのシャナナ” – BRADIO
“Young and Restless” – SIAMES
“Many Roads” and “Need You,” feat. Madge – Chaos Chaos
“Light the Light” – RADWIMPS
“I Think There’s Something You Should Know” – The 1975
“Rescue Dog” – Train
“Sunburn”, “Animal”, “Can’t Wait”, and “Drunk” – The Living Tombstone
“Superlove” – Royal Republic
“I Don’t Know What We’re Talking About” – NSP
“The Movies” and “You Should Probably Just Hang Up” – Nightly
“Fools” – ufo ufo
“Keep Me Light” – Tall Heights
“Animal” and “Hate You” – Jim Yosef x RIELL
“Come Over” – Dagny
“Baby It’s You” and “Californian Soil” – London Grammar
“Riots” – Stuck in the Sound
“Someone Else’s Dream” – Absofacto
“Gimme a Minute” and “Stay Gold” – PVRIS
“Seventeen” – Deamn
“Scream Drive Faster” and “Best I Ever Had” – LAUREL
“Change” – Pale Waves
“Tell Me I’m Wrong” – Dwayne Ford, feat. Clara Sorace
“sustain++” – Mili
“homebody” and “hiccup” – Valley
“Wonder” and “Teach Me How To Love” – Shawn Mendes
“Cardigan” – Taylor Swift
“Off My Mind” – Hazel English
“I Saw Love” – Forest Blakk
“Pretty Please” – Jackson Wang and Galantis
“Let’s Love” – David Guetta & Sia
As with past music posts, I want to end my yearly music list with an overdue tribute to the many music artists we lost in 2020, including Neil Peart of Rush, Pop Smoke, David Roback of Mazzy Star, Barbara Martin of The Supremes, Kenny Rogers, Bill Withers, John Prine, Ryo Kawasaki, Florian Schneider of Kraftwerk, Brian Howe of Bad Company, Little Richard, Steve Priest of Sweet, Bonnie Pointer of The Pointer Sisters, Vera Lynn, Charlie Daniels, Ennio Morricone, Regis Philbin, Peter Green of Fleetwood Mac, Malik B. of The Roots, Leon Fleisher, Trini Lopez, Frankie Banali of Quiet Riot, Ronald Bell of Kool & The Gang, Toots Hibbert of Toots & The Maytals, Lee Kerslake and Ken Hensley of Uriah Heep, Tommy DeVito of The Four Seasons, Helen Reddy, Johnny Nash, Eddie Van Halen, Tony Lewis of The Outfield, Alto Reed of Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band, and Charley Pride. May they rest in peace, for they and their music will not be forgotten.
I’ve heard the most dangerous creature is man, And I suppose that must be true. We love coming up with formidable monsters That threaten our whole point of view, And somehow we manage to conquer the foe And add to the others we slew. So if such a creature did rampage and roar We’ll have all this fiction to clue Our panicking, delicate, desperate species On what we should probably do. ______________________
MPA rating: PG-13
Giant monsters and mech suits have long fascinated Japan and many a young boy, but I honestly have never been a big fan of the genre. In the past, I could attribute this to the poor quality of the old Godzilla movies with their laughable acting and near-visible zippers. Yet I also am not much enamored of modern effects extravaganzas like Transformers or the 2014 American version of Godzilla. There’s a fine line between spectacle and noise, and a human element worth caring about is an oft-overlooked necessity. So why did I add 2016’s Shin Godzilla to my Blindspot list? Well, not only did it win Japan’s equivalent of Best Picture but I’ve heard plenty of people sing its praises, calling it a more realistic take on the classic Godzilla story. And while I agree with that to a point, Godzilla is still Godzilla.
Directed by Hideaki Anno of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame, the film doesn’t waste much time before an underwater disturbance strikes Tokyo Bay, sending the Japanese government into a tizzy. One young cabinet member named Rando Yaguchi (Hiroki Hasegawa) is the first to suggest that a giant creature is the cause, and the way he is scoffed at before being proven correct makes it clear who the main character is amid all the cabinet meetings. Indeed, cabinet meetings are a notable fixture of the film as their bureaucratic hesitance contrasts sharply with the rampant destruction of a radioactive lizard. In this way, it certainly is more realistic, suggesting that a disaster of this scale and suddenness will already have wreaked its havoc by the time the government figures out what to do about it. Hope seems lost but for Yaguchi’s bold efforts leading a brain trust to develop an innovative way of stopping the monster once and for all, aided by an attractive envoy from the U.S. (Satomi Ishihara).
Shin Godzilla is effective in its satire of government inefficiencies, though its cabinet meetings grow tedious with repetition, but what of the creature itself? Unlike many Godzilla films where the monster pops out of the ocean fully formed, this version actually goes through several stages of rapid evolution, all of which leave destruction in their wake. I realize it’s unfair to compare Japan’s special effects with Hollywood’s, and the scenes of toppled buildings and flying rubble are top notch, but the Japanese effects do fall short in depicting the creature. Its snake-like first form especially is almost laughable with its googly-eyed stare, and while the later versions are more menacing and massive, I feel like Godzilla’s unblinking eyes still make it feel somewhat fake. That being said, the final battle to take out the giant is appropriately awe-inspiring in its scale, giving the humans a chance at heroism rather than just panicking and reacting.
Shin Godzilla (or Shin Gojira to use the famed monster’s Japanese name) can be translated as “New Godzilla,” and it indeed tries to start from scratch, doing away with any past films or the reinvention of the creature as some kind of protector fighting other monsters, which is the direction Hollywood took with the recent American films. While the film has its merits, I must admit I fail to see why it would warrant major awards attention, outside the technical categories. I suppose Godzilla just looms larger in the Japanese consciousness, especially since the film incorporates scenes that echo real-life Japanese tragedies like the 2011 earthquake and tsunami just as the original Godzilla films derived from concerns over nuclear fallout. Shin Godzilla may not reinvent the giant monster movie, but its satirical take on the genre makes it a worthwhile member that is far better than the days of men in rubber suits.
Best line: (one of the bureau directors) “Man is more frightening than Gojira.”
Rhyme and Reason 