Y2K, throw your hands up at me

In the year 2000... Ketchup was green, Florida was red, and Pantone's color of the year was Cerulean Blue. Guess you had be there - and chances are, a lot of you were! One fact that's come into focus since I started publishing these commemorative observations is that the worth of any given year is highly subjective; war, disease, economics, reality TV - whatever shape the world was in was only as good or bad as the condition of my own personal bubble. For me, 2000 has a few blurry spots; I'd lost a considerable amount of weight due to an eating disorder, I began to engage in more social interactions amongst my peers as well as romantic relationships, I began my senior year of high school, I was earning my first taxable paychecks. But because I'm me, a lot of these developments feel worn and faded for the reason that they hang on the hooks of an era in Pop Culture that I found to be bland and uninspired. 

In hindsight it becomes apparent that I really began to lose touch with Television after Seinfeld ended in '98. I turned 17 in February of '00 and so I wasn't about to embrace the likes of Bob the Builder, Dora the Explorer, or SpongeBob SquarePants. But at the same time I had zero interest in CSI, The West Wing, or The Sopranos. And I don't know what age group was popping the sleeping pills that were Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and Survivor but they certainly weren't capturing the attention span of an angry teenager with better stuff to do. So that presents the question: what exactly was I doing? 

I'd all but ignored or dismissed the music of the 1990s, so it either had something to do with my age or the way it saturated the zeitgeist but I began to notice new songs and artists in this year - both ironically and genuinely. Actually, from my point of view, the defining cultural sounds and imagery that best illustrate the start of the 21st Century would be the content of TRL. Britney, Christina, *NSYNC, and The Backstreet Boys made it seem as though Teen Pop was the only option. But there was also Destiny's Child and Alicia Keys. Linkin Park and Papa Roach. The White Stripes and Radiohead. Then all of it would become sanitized and repackaged into a compact disc of Now That's What I Call Music, leaving one Marshall Mathers to point and laugh at the whole parade. 

Despite the quality or actual longevity of these bands and artists, almost all of them remain relevant today, and it's because they fall into the net that is The New Millennium. Even one hit wonders from 25 years ago still swirl around the playlists marked "Today". So far this century has felt like one cohesive glob, but there are some abstract and indefinable qualities that make 2000 stand alone as a unique era unto itself; it was no longer the 90s but the tone of the decade that followed wouldn't fully emerge till September of 2001. So here we were, with our trucker hats and PlayStations, celebrating the union of Brad and Jen and praying for the safety of Elián González. A Big Mac cost $2.24. The computers didn't crash. Jennifer Lopez was always somewhere on TV. What more could we ask for? 

We've all sang the song and danced the dance of "The Films of 1999" - that sparkling gem of innovation and achievement. But even more memorable than the masterpieces that came out that year was the hope and optimism surrounding the future of Motion Pictures - that we were perhaps at the dawn of a new age where risk takers were blessed with the money and technology to realize this potential Renaissance. But we're not gathered here today to lament for the eleventy millionth time how that prophecy did not come to fruition, but I bring it up because by the end of 2000 it was glaringly apparent to me that not only did it not live up to the previous year's output, but that it was perhaps the weakest year for movies I'd witnessed since I started paying attention to such things. I mean it was partially unfair to hold it to the standards of '99 (the fact that I first saw Magnolia in January of '00 may've presented a greater contrast) but this was ridiculous. There weren't even any real standouts to me at the time, and I saw a ton. I remember really liking a handful of new releases but I couldn't shake the feeling that they would've been like window dressing in any year from the '90s. And now, 25 years later, as I stand back and scan the directory of Y2K Cinema, I find that I was mostly correct in my original assessment; I still managed to squeeze out a pretty eclectic Top 20, but in addressing the year 2000 as a whole, no, I was not entertained. 

- Paul

1. Unbreakable

I was not at all part of the Sixth Sense cult - I thought it was good, but not in a way that had me fully prepared for this. I think what stood out to me at the time (and still) was the directing; I was becoming more hyperaware by the minute at that age, and stuff like movement and composition and overall mise en scène were of utmost importance, and there is nary a shot in this entire movie that isn't remarkable or clever to some degree (minus those parting title cards...). 

2. Wonder Boys

Another pleasant surprise that was a bit different from what I was expecting. I remember being turned on by how small the scope of it is: a dialogue driven character study over the course of a few days was very much what I was into at the time. It was marketed as a Dramedy and I sorta digested it that way, but when I revisit it now I'm beginning to recognize it as one of my favorite straightforward Comedies. 

3. Shaft

I showed up for the novelty of Sam Jackson fulfilling this no-brainer casting decision, and what I got was a sharp and exciting triumph that continues to be one of the best Action Movies of this century. I was expecting a low-key Blaxploitation parody but it takes itself just seriously enough to be equal parts smart and fun. The big takeaway from its amazing ensemble cast was that Christian Bale was fast becoming a favorite actor. 

4. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

This was still when the Coens could do no wrong, and it was of my opinion that this movie continued that streak. The soundtrack deserved all the praise and prosperity it received, but as usual I was most impressed with the writing; their playful execution of regional and era-specific dialects will always be the first thing I think of when I think of them in their heyday. 

5. Best in Show

It's like "The White Album" of Mockumentaries; not only is it the best, but everyone's contribution is unique and at the top of their game, creating one cohesive collage of absurdity. It's so fitting that the main thread is a contest because you can't help but root for a favorite performance. 

6. American Psycho

Even people who read the book didn't know what to expect. I remember some initial disappointment that it wasn't a gorefest, but instead it quickly identified itself as the Black Comedy it was supposed to be -- and that humor landed gracefully into the canon of Pop Culture, due largely to the talents of its lead actor. 

7. Sexy Beast

British Gangster Films always seemed to flirt with surrealism, but this one just fucks. I can't pretend Ben Kingsley doesn't steal the show but that's mostly amplified by Ray Winstone's fear and fatigue. These two deserved their own BBC miniseries. 

8. Cast Away

A Hanks/Zemeckis reunion held a lotta weight, so personally there was gonna be some amount of letdown. And there still is; I've always felt underwhelmed by the final act, and excessive CGI makes the entire scenario a lot less threatening, but it's still easily one of the most engrossing movies of the year (and probably this century). 

9. Traffic

Storytelling by way of color scheme! Soderbergh certainly has a look, and he, along with cinematographer Peter Andrews (wink wink), went hard and reached the mountaintop with this one. For as heavy-handed as it is, it inspired decades of copycats who never seemed to do it as well as it was done here. 

10. Ginger Snaps

The "Teenage Werewolf" trend wasn't new, but this was an admirably fresh take on it - at least to me. And from my perspective this was one of the worst times for Horror, maybe ever, so a clever Indie Gem with rich performances and practical effects actually seems that much more miraculous in hindsight. 

11. Memento

There were some entries that felt clever and daring enough to feel like they came outta the 90s. Sometimes maybe a little too clever. Like, cutesy? I will say Chris Nolan on a shoestring budget is something we have very little of in this world and it's a challenge I'd like to see him create for himself again in the future. 

12. Snatch

I was embarrassed about liking it at the time, but I thought it was pretty funny and had a great soundtrack; the Huey Piano Smith closer is inspiring. It all felt very much like a mood of the moment; I never saw another Guy Ritchie movie after this one but along with Lock, Stock in '98 it felt like the appropriate curtain call for the Violent Gangster Comedy craze. 

13. The Beaver Trilogy

Technically made in 1979, and 1981, and again (yes, again) in 1984, the three shorts were complied into a trilogy and began the Festival Circuit in 2000, making this the most creative and ambitious passion project of the year. 

14. Amores Perros

Imaginative, provocative, and, of course, dark and depressing, Iñárritu gave us an unflinching debut with a unique voice and a sharp eye. I didn't know it at the time but he was the real hope for the new century. 

15. What Lies Beneath

And we also had seasoned veterans trying to stay ay the top of their game. Obviously Zemeckis fell in love with computer animation long before this but here's where he began to use it in frivolous ways (or the technology itself began to falter). Either way, at its core this is a wonderful, twisty, old-fashioned tale with remarkable performances driving it home. 

16. Cherry Falls

While Horror was still in the midst of "Ironic Slasher" mode, it was a joy to find something that wasn't just a music video for a soundtrack album. All the tropes are still present but what keeps this afloat is its truly wacky premise and collection of colorful character actors. Additionally (or probably especially) I'd present this as further proof of just how captivating and unique Brittany Murphy was. 

17. Requiem For a Dream

π, now in color! I remember reading about this in '99 as part of that grandiose promise that Film was only gonna get more inventive and exciting. And to be fair, every shot and every cut and every sound effect had my attention, but definitely to be filed away as a neat exercise. It remains in that folder to this day. 

18. Mission: Impossible II

I still can't shake that initial rush of how much more I liked it than the first one. It was at this point that I'd felt John Woo had become a parody of himself, and that other people were in on the joke as well, and that maybe this is just what these kindsa movies had become; it was the only big, loud Summer Blockbuster that year that stayed with me, and that's because it was noticeably silly. 

19. Scarlet Diva

Art imitating life imitating whatever the hell this is. Originally a kinda funny kinda sexy kinda weird faux documentary, and now through the lens of a quarter century worth of sobering reality, it apparently wasn't funny or sexy at all. The fact this this is a public diary entry gives it a gravitas that, admittedly, makes it more interesting. 

20. In the Mood For Love

In terms of tone, texture, and themes, one could call it a claustrophobic Barry Lyndon -- or at least I do. Were this to take place in the contemporary Western World it would have been a raunchy melodrama, but in its 1960s Hong Kong setting it's a paced tragedy, and that manages to make it more effective. 

BENNETT INVENTORY : Good Movie, Bad Ending

I love a good ending. I love surprises, punchlines, ambiguity, shock cuts, fadeouts, even neat & tidy old fashioned happy endings. From a distance there's no right or wrong, until we have to get dreadfully specific and make that eye-rolling declaration: it depends on the movie. Don't go hard for 100 minutes and then get all soft on me; movies earn their endings whether they like it or not and sometimes whether they mean to or not. It's a big responsibility but it's also a tremendous freedom - in my story writing experience I would often write just as an excuse to invent a provocative conclusion. But it's clear, in many movies, that the means were more urgent than the ends. 

A lot of these are your standard climax, some of them are the final moments before the credits, some are a painful bruise on the body of the movie, some are so forgettable that I can barely remember how everything turned out. In any case I'll leave it to you to agree or disagree - because that's a good ending. 

- Paul

*** S P O I L E R S   A H E A D***

The Fugitive (1993)

Maybe one of the most engrossing movies ever -- all the way up until Dr. Kimble confronts the architect of the whole frame-up, Dr. Nichols, and like Tommy Lee Jones I struggle to care. Harrison accuses him of "switching samples" in regards to whatever the overall motivation was but I never bother to remember any of that, and then he inexplicably follows the criminal mastermind into some backroom out of public view(!). Ultimately this is so Tommy Lee can be a part of the showdown which is all we wanted but it ends up being such a drag after the elaborate chase that was the entire film. 

The Thing (1982)

No, not the cryptic staredown between Kurt and Keith David - that's on the Best Endings list, so no surprise that it overshadows the formulaic Action Movie climax with the explosion and underground tunnels and the witty curse word remark. But the real troubling moment is the faltering monster FX that noticeably pale in comparison to the the dazzling achievement that is the rest of the movie leading up to it. Supposedly Team Bottin fell behind schedule with all the effort put into the other creations that it resulted in this immobile puppet that feels like an afterthought. 

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

The movie has many strengths and perhaps just as many weaknesses so there's a polite balance throughout. I'm not here to get into any of that, but I will say that the whole film could've come out ahead had Spielberg & co. given the audience a little more credit. Instead he leaves us with one of the worst expository speeches I've still ever heard as an animated alien lifeform (voiced by Ben Kingsley) tediously explains to David everything that we already know. I'm not complaining about the repetition but rather the crude disregard for even a remote chance of any abstraction. After I left the theater I went home and watched 2001 to get the taste out of my mouth. 

Trading Places (1983)

The story lands right where it's supposed to and right on time as the two lead characters reach the heights (and depths) of their respective class status. Then they join forces, which is also satisfying. Then they all board a train wearing silly disguises and talking with funny accents in a sequence that is comedically beneath a Benny Hill sketch. You'd think two SNL vets could make this work, but no; whatever tone the movie created had shifted into a silliness that feels like an entirely different movie. Furthermore, the second climax involving the commodities trading floor becomes literal white noise as the esoteric stock market stuff loses my interest entirely. 

Unbreakable (2000)

This one hurts. What an otherwise shockingly original and nearly perfect movie that had me surprised with every development, up to and including the surprise ending! I like M. Night - I like just about all the movies I've seen and I like the twists... to a point. Regardless of his impeccable storytelling strengths (as well as a creative eye) he truly has no faith in an audience's intelligence: he'll show us what's really going on, and then explicitly tell us, and then show us yet again. And in the odd case of Unbreakable, he employs title cards to tell us even more. Dreadful. 

Django Unchained (2012)

I'm sure this is hypercritical and won't get much support, but once Dr. King and Calvin get killed, I find I'm much less invested in any further outcome. Plot wise, yes, it's necessary for Django and Broomhilda to be reunited and the remainder of that journey (though sorta rushed) is entirely compelling, but not as satisfying as it should've been. The movie is so much more concerned with building the relationship between Django and Schultz that the actual objective always feels sorta incidental, so once he dies we have to force ourselves to become more invested in the very peripheral romance. 

M*A*S*H (1970)

To be fair there was no right or wrong way to end this movie - it has no narrative thread in a traditional sense, it's just a disjointed series of hijinks, and that's fine. Actually, that's great - it was Episodic Comedy before it was even televised. So for some ridiculous reason (regardless of the source novel) they decided to tack on some version of a "plot" in the form of an arbitrary football game to close out the film. It goes on for what feels like 20 minutes and it is a completely superfluous and disorienting bit of filmmaking that just about sinks the whole movie. 

Cast Away (2000)

How about this: when he comes back to civilization the world is run by intelligent apes. Seriously though I don't know how else it should've ended. No I didn't want him to die on the island and his rescue could've only ever had bittersweet consequences, but I think that's the point - or at least my point: the paint-by-number wrap-up kinda writes itself (in a boring way); everything else that was exciting or interesting was on that island and they did too good a job holding our attention with the survival element that they themselves became stranded in their own painted-in corner. 

They say this one has a surprise ending

The attractive, magical idea of a standalone, sequel-less movie first entered my head when I was 7 years old, when my father offhandedly stated that he hoped that they would never make an Edward Scissorhands 2, citing how such a thing would detract from the already-perfect story and bittersweet closure. This was the first time I'd ever considered such a concept, and I was of a split mind (pause for laughter...) on the idea. It's difficult for the child mind to grasp the notion of not wanting any kinda continuation of a world I'd been so enamored with. (After all, isn't this the lucrative basis on which all franchises are born?) But what my father said challenged my superficial yearning for more of everything/anything and got me thinkin' about the sanctity and purity of a singular story and the allure of inevitable loose ends.

The point of this longwindedness is to hopefully set up a framework for: my indelible adoration/frustration with Unbreakable, my holy-shit-fantasy-come-true reaction to Split, and, yes, eventually my still-simmering 'hot take' on Glass.

Anyone who's kept up with this site for the past 10+ years should already be aware of how I've consistently championed Unbreakable as one of the best movies of the 2000s, and certainly M. Night's greatest cinematic achievement. To this day, I'm still pleasantly confused in regards to its popularity with other moviegoers who aren't me: billed as "From the director of The Sixth Sense," I'd've assumed people would've been put off by a slow-burn character study with very little 'action' and no second act. But I was pleased; it gave me hope as to how well it did financially and how post-1999 cinema could be about big marquee movies that focused on low-key moods & high-concept premises grounded in expert cinematography and fresh capabilities. And, as usual, it was nice to be on board with the public re. a popular culture signpost. And whatever everyone else took from it, we were all able to agree on one thing: the ending.
That goddamn ending.

Because these essays are written for entertainment purposes only, there will be minor spoilers throughout (which is actually pretty consistent with most published reviews). Also, while I don't feel like dissecting the guy's entire filmography movie by movie, I figure while we're here, we should address the 'twists' situation and get a few thing straight.
I like his endings - I like the idea of them. They're typically imaginative and organic to the stories they follow. But for a guy who's a competent screenwriter and expert director, he can't seem to exercise any tact when it comes to the art of the reveal (which, really, is the whole meat of the burger). These ideas must read fantastically on paper, but on the screen they play out like a recap of Part One of a two-part TV movie; recycled scenes and dialogue from earlier in the film play out in a jumble of bad editing and clumsy exposition. If an audience can't retain stuff they saw 90 minutes ago, what makes you think they're even paying attention at all? Notwithstanding, Unbreakable doesn't quite follow this model -- No, its conclusive gaffe is much more bizarre: a series of title cards assuring us that completely uninteresting events took place after the movie ended. It's a startlingly amateurish head-scratcher in an otherwise magnificent film, and will always be a big black asterisk next to the title.

Weak storytelling devices aside, Unbreakable's Dragnet-like ending all but guaranteed that it was closed-off from potential sequels. Part of me always kinda appreciated this guarantee - in the handful of things that make the movie unique is that it is just a first act that manages to be more engrossing than most traditionally-structured stories. And after 16 years it sits high as the crown jewel in an uneven film career -- and clearly I don't think I was alone in feeling that way.

In every instance, this 'ending problem' has overshadowed each individual movie. I can't think of Sixth Sense, Signs, or The Village without confronting all the same aforementioned hangups. Similarly - albeit conversely - Split suffers this same hiccup in a most ironic way. Watching it again recently, it's easy to forget that it's an all-around headbanger and effortlessly one of the best of 2016. The kidnapping sub-genre can often derail into grotesque places which sometimes diffuses what generates its suspense in the first place; and because of its Hitchcockian tones and performance-driven plot, it felt like a return to form for the man who was once supposed to be "the next Hitchcock."

And many will find it hard to believe: as I sat watching it for the first time - roughly halfway through - I thought (perhaps subconsciously) that this particular story could potentially serve as some kinda crossover device with Unbreakable. This thought left my head as quickly as it came in, and I wish I'd said it aloud so someone could've witnessed my premonition.
Call it wishful thinking, or maybe there actually are subliminal clues throughout that alerted me to what would be The Ending To End All Endings.

In fact, is it fair to say that we didn't even need a continuation? Was Split's ending enough of a rush that no movie could've lived up to what those last 60 seconds promised? In a non-rhetorical frame of mind, after taking a look at Glass, I would answer 'yes.'

But let's not come at it from that direction. All that really states is: in this disjointed trilogy, Unbreakable is the better movie. And that's fine - I can live with that. And while I've not read any fan or critical reaction (I rarely do), I can imagine that, as with any highly anticipated sequel, it doesn't meet expectation. I know - it didn't meet mine. And again, that's fine.

What it is is that, for years, I've wrestled with the frustration of, "Why won't this guy make a sequel to Unbreakable?" And what happened was that he made a sequel to Split instead. And once you stop crying and catch your breath, you realize that's not entirely a bad thing. And it's not an entirely missed opportunity either - the shades of Unbreakable are still there, and the attempts to get Samuel into center stage don't go unnoticed. Though the fact remains: there wasn't any story left in Unbreakable to tell -- like a comic book, it's just onto the next adventure, the next villain, the next locale.

But as I've stated so many times in the past, sequels aren't solely about comparison -- there's still a movie here to be seen.

While it's unfortunately not the Mr. Glass movie it could've been, it's also not the David vs. Beast movie it could've been either. What it does is tries to satisfy the needs of its two predecessors, and only manages a small portion for each. What it does accomplish as a Split sequel is that, while the story or the character didn't need any kinda continuation, the performance did. James McAvoy manages to transcend both realism and parody; while there's nothing too subtle about his portrayal, even still you watch extra close to make sure there aren't any flaws.
As far as I can tell, there aren't.

The hard sell is calling attention to the formulaic predictability of comic book structure and lore while most of the moviegoing public has been spoon-fed the real stuff year after year -- it's in their blood. Though not for lack of trying: once again, Sam Jackson's main function is to deliver expository monologues as to exactly what's going on; constantly calling attention to how things are playing out, even though we ourselves can see it plainly. And while this is clearly some shitty writing, you could do worse than giving it to Samuel L. Jackson.

One refreshing masterstroke we're left with is that he does throw in one left-field mystery involving yet-another party of comic book villains that is left comfortingly unexplored.
Regardless, Shyamalan's back on track with a muddled ending bogged down with explanations, connect-the-dots resolutions, and zero faith in audience smarts. After a series of moody, captivating, borderline moving movies - Glass included - we deserved a much stronger ending. But ain't that always the case? We can't complain; if this is an inadequate ending to Unbreakable, well, we're already used to that.

What's important here is that this isn't M. Night at his worst -- it's not even him being mediocre. It's been a long time, but I'm gonna throw caution right into the wind and look forward to what he does next. In other words, party like it's 1999.

- Paul

BENNETT INVENTORY : Paul's Top 10 Films of the 2000s

'Twas the decade of adaptations: comic books, video games, tv shows, & plays -- the plays themselves often adapted from previous films (or classic albums/artist catalogues); a decade of sprawling anthologies & hasty remakes, lackluster computer animation, & less-than-compelling 3D (has it ever been more-than?) & yes - some or all of these qualities apply to both foreign & domestic mainstream contemporary cinema. So, what can be said of the independent genre (because, after all this time, it really is a genre)... Franchise rights & million dollar cartoon dragons & robots have stolen all the thunder, leaving only the innovation of consumer grade digital video as the last 'edge' in originality. Cinephiles & mainstream critics alike have adapted to the times, & mediocrity has become the new standard of "masterpiece." Now, I have no personal vendetta; I only use this because it's a recent example, & it's one of the few new films I've bothered to see in the past six months: out of all the reviews I've read for Inception, I'm left with this very specific summation: "It's not a masterpiece... but it's one of the greatest films ever made." There can only be one of two explanations for this mass contradiction: either people can't seem to own up to how they really feel about the movie (good or bad), or they've simply been conditioned to praise anything that isn't one of the aforementioned "adaptations" as "original."

The truly troubling thing here is that: this is just the beginning. In 1999, Entertainment Weekly noted that very same year as "the year that changed movies." Not that we needed it to be pointed out to us - we all felt it - but the validation itself only enhanced the exhilaration. EW, like the rest of us, was wrong. After the slew of stale movies released in 2000, & when Traffic lost to Gladiator, I, for one, thought it was immediately obvious as to how wrong we were. Not that I was instantly fatalistic regarding the entire decade to come - but all the promising aspects of '99 eventually let me down in one way or another: the hokey subsequent Star Wars prequels, the decline in CGI standards, the increasing inadequacy of Wes Anderson & Shyamalan, the near-absence of P.T. Anderson, & the absolute absence of Kubrick.

I say these things not to be sensationalistic; they come out of mere, honest frustration. Throughout the '90s, I was convinced the 80s were the worst decade in film. I was wrong; & I definitely don't say that in any kinda comparative sense -- I was 180 degrees wrong. Collectively, the 80s were great in nearly every sense, & if any point can be made outta this rant, it's this: I like my comedies PG (or PG-13) & my horror & action movies R. 

I can't be sure of what can be said of the fact that it's completely backwards now -- only that it's clear that everything is really wrong & bad, & I've just about given up.

10. The Devil's Rejects  In no way like the Freddy or Jason fan base -- it takes an intense amount of talent to turn a posse of serial killers & rapists into likable protagonists in the span of one film. (Corpses doesn't play into this sentiment).

9. Bubble  The only thing more surprising than the acute sense of realism is the sudden left turn into surrealism. Point being, the film was a surprise - a rarity in one's lifetime, let alone this decade. 

8. Zodiac  Proof that Fincher will always do his best work in the crime genre. More notably, the best male performance of the 2000s goes to Mark Ruffalo's understated (& underrated) portrayal of Inspector Toschi.

7. Secretary  "Romantic Comedy" has been synonymous with "shit" for nearly ever. This film is proof that no genre or sub-genre is completely hopeless. Great films have nothing to do with what side of Blockbuster you can find them on.

6. 21 Grams  After Pulp Fiction filmmakers managed to drive non-linear storytelling into the ground. Sometimes it was necessary to the structure - most times an annoying gimmick. The astounding thing about 21 Grams is that these scenes could play out in any order (linear included) and it would still be compelling & visually stunning.

5. The Pledge  The Crossing Guard was a very loose but good film filled with a lotta cynicism & melodrama - pretty much what you'd expect with Sean Penn behind the camera. So it comes as a pleasant shock to find The Pledge to be a tight genre picture that still manages to be wholly original. & of course, any time Jack doesn't play "Jack" is a fascinating thing to watch.

4. Unbreakable  The film that convinced me that, one day, Shymalan would trump both Spielberg and Hitchcock. It barely beats Dark Knight as the best comic book movie of all time.

3. INLAND EMPIRE  With the freedom of digital video, Lynch is now able to illustrate an almost literal stream-of-consciousness structure through visual prose - something we've all kinda been waiting for since Eraserhead.

2. About Schmidt  Another instance of Nicholson playing his age. But even more than that; he earns the character of Warren Schmidt with such humility that he sells an incredibly fragile parting shot that, in the hands of most other actors/writers/directors, it would've come off as sentimental hogwash.

1. No Country For Old Men  The best film in a career of otherwise 'best films' - for two directors who explore every genre of cinema, this is the ultimate 'Coen film.' If I were to show someone a Coen Brothers movie who'd never seen one, this would be it. A thriller that would make Hitchcock jealous.

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part 10 -- Flip you for real