FILM / Captain Canada's Movie Rodeo / December 2019 / Gabriel Ricard
Image © Netflix
I can honestly say I saw a lot of good movies in 2019. Many of them were older films I’ve just been meaning to see. Those still count as candidates for any list I might throw together. At least, as far as I’m concerned.
If I’m not allowed to count those, I think you can still say it was a pretty good year. The argument I’m willing to make is simple. Once again, when it comes to the best movies of 2019, it was a case of quality over quantity. That would be the optimistic way to look at it. I think that’s fine. With so much bullshit going on in movies these days, to say nothing of the rest of the world (which exists, guys, I swear), I think you should look for genuine, grounded optimism wherever you can find it.
So rather than be depressed that so few great movies came out this year, I’m going to be pleased that the best movies of 2019 are strong contenders for any list of the best movies I’ve seen in my life. One could also say that I just don’t want to consider complete despair.
And I don’t have to. Nor do I have to deny the reality that film as a whole is struggling on a number of levels. Disney is a big part of that, but we’re also getting lazier. There’s a lot going on, and there is an argument to be made that cinema is not reflecting that as much as it could. Then you have the enormous resources being poured into the death rattles for the industry of Hollywood blockbusters. You imagine those resources, even for just one superhero movie we probably don’t need, being put to use elsewhere. It’s hard not to get a little depressed. Especially if you like stuff like superhero films to begin with.
I’m aware of all of these things. Yet the best of 2019 still gives me a sense of overall optimism. At least, as far as the movies are concerned.
The Drunk Monkeys staff will almost certainly be doing another Best of the Year collaboration for film, TV, and all the rest. For movies that blew my hair back in 2019, I’ll have more than enough to discuss. I wish there was more than that, but it’s entirely possible that I’m being selfish.
At any rate, and just in case you’re curious, the best movie of 2019, as far as I’m concerned, is Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman. Before that, it was Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. While both films are exceptional in every possible way, I hope the best movie of 2020, which will be here before we know it, comes from someone much younger, and much less familiar to me. I’m not saying we throw out the old guard, the legends who are still working.
However, in terms of the next generation, and in terms of the next generation having the resources they deserve to transform the medium, we aren’t where we should be. We can get closer by supporting the films and filmmakers who make up an essential corner of the universe of film. Where the blockbusters and escapism can be found, as well. It’s a big world out there.
Despite what anyone may tell you, there is room enough for different types of movies. There is more room than we realize.
The Irishman (2019): A+
Martin Scorsese is one of the most versatile filmmakers in movie history. It really is that simple. The weird problem Scorsese has is that his mob movies, which represent a small portion of his output, are so culturally powerful, a lot of people tend to forget about stuff like Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore or Hugo.
At the same time, the mob movies aren’t all that similar to one another either. There are obviously some thematic connections, as well as shared casts, but movies like Goodfellas and Casino ultimately tell two very different mob stories. Neither of them is very similar to Mean Streets either.
The Irishman is nothing like any mafia story Martin Scorsese has told before. It has a spiritual relationship to his earlier entries on the subject. When you have a sprawling 3 ½-hour saga about Jimmy Hoffa (an impeccable, dynamic Al Pacino), and the truck driver-turned-hitman who becomes one of his closest professional confidants (Robert De Niro, who is as good here as he has ever been in his storied career).
The movie largely focuses on De Niro as Frank Sheeran, and Sheeran’s rise from unionized truck driver, to someone who may or may not have put the bullets in the back of ol Jimmy’s head. At the same time, because of the movie’s gargantuan length, The Irishman also delves into Frank’s relationships to the likes of Russell Bufalino (a riveting, late-career turn by Joe Pesci), his disintegrating family life (Anna Paquin, as his daughter, is a force to be reckoned with in the movie’s final act). One thing about The Irishman is that it takes its time.
More likely than not, you won’t have a problem with that. The Irishman emotionally is the end of an era in the careers of these men, who have been working together in one form or another for over 50 years (Harvey Keitel, who has a small role here, first worked with Scorsese in 1967). You can’t watch this movie without thinking about these things, or occasionally noting the effectiveness of the digital de-aging effects (as well as the rare moments where it doesn’t look exactly right, but that’s okay). However, for the most part, you will simply be locked into this a movie that is funny, genuinely harrowing, and intensely bittersweet. It is a flawless achievement for everyone involved.
One which we unfortunately can’t completely deconstruct here. To be sure, people are going to be discussing The Irishman for a long time to come. Scorsese may have the “gall” to not be a fan of Marvel movies, but he is anything but complacent, or a gatekeeper. He’s simply passionate. That has always been the case. That passion is on stunning display here.
The Irishman recently premiered on Netflix on November 27th. Set aside some time for it.
Dolemite is my Name (2019): A+
Are we in the midst of an Eddie Murphy comeback? Time will obviously tell. At the time of this writing, Murphy is planning to return to standup, Saturday Night Live, and fan favorites like Coming to America. If Dolemite is My Name, a deeply personal, energized portrayal of the legendary actor and comedian (among other talents) Rudy Ray Moore, is any indication of things, the next few months are going to be pretty exciting. That certainly applies to anyone who has waited patiently for someone with Murphy’s talents and timing to prove those things never left him.
First and foremost, Dolemite is My Name is one of Eddie Murphy’s best performances of all time. Period. Murphy brings enthusiasm, energy, and something relatable and unknown to us, as he plays one of the most underrated and unique figures in cult movie history. The movie uses Murphy’s brilliance as its centerpiece, while simultaneously emphasizing an impressive supporting cast (Da’Vine Joy Randolph is a breakout star of the highest order), good pacing, and the essential touch of creating a portrayal of the time and place in which these people lived and worked (the 1970s).
Directed by Craig Brewer (Hustle & Flow, Black Snake Moan), Dolemite is My Name is another strong offering on Netflix. It is a time capsule with more than enough personality and vibrancy to be a story worth appreciating in the 21st century.
Revenge (1989): B+
*Not* the Kevin Costner vehicle, but rather, a brutal family story that focuses on the vengeance of a weary father, Revenge definitely isn’t for everyone. It lets you know pretty early on, when a teacher murders a young student. The father dedicates himself to avenging his murdered child. To that end, he has another child for the sole purpose of creating the perfect vehicle to destroy the teacher who destroyed his first-born. This story, spanning decades, doesn’t suddenly take a turn for the upbeat. Trust me.
This curious Soviet film, which tells a Korean story with Korean actors, is a slow-burn tribute to the toxicity of rage, and the horrors that can befall someone whose purpose in life is an unfortunate one. There is a constant yearning for humanity that makes this story all the more difficult to get through, but it does keep Revenge from being altogether bleak. Revenge is dark stuff, but one of its messages might be that it doesn’t actually have to be that way. For its seemingly simple story, this collaboration (one of three) between director Ermek Shinarbaev and the Korean-Russian writer Anatoli Kim has a lot to say.
Honky Tonk Freeway (1981): B-
Honky Tonk Freeway is perhaps the weirdest movie John Schlesinger (who won an Oscar for directing Midnight Cowboy) ever made. It is also one of the biggest box-office bombs of only time. Its gross against a budget of some twenty-four million? Around two million. Honky Tonk Freeway didn’t ruin anyone’s career. It also didn’t do anyone any favors. It has since fallen into obscurity, but it’s an oddball worth examining in the present.
The story centers around a small town desperate to survive, after a new freeway essentially relegates them to a slow death by neglect from the outside world. It is a large-scale satire with extreme personalities, as well as numerous smaller stories that inevitably wind up being part of the larger narrative. In terms of bringing everything together, the movie is admittedly kind of messy, even with good performances from the likes of William Devane, Teri Garr, Jessica Tandy, Beau Bridges, Beverly D’Angelo, Hume Cronyn. Despite the chaos, and the fact that it doesn’t quite all come together, Honky Tonk Freeway is deserving of larger reappraisal.
Basically, imagine if Robert Altman had smoked a pound or so less of marijuana per day. You probably would have gotten something like Honky Tonk Freeway. Take that as you will.
Joker (2019): C-
Were it not for Joaquin Phoenix’s performance as the iconic DC villain Joker, I really don’t believe there would be much to recommend with Joker. It is a beautifully-shot, well-paced story that puts the focus on the character’s descent into madness. It is also a shallow, tedious interpretation of the character. That gives Joker the distinction of being one of the worst movies of 2019, in terms of a philosophy and heart that measures up to what Phoenix brings to his character.
Because while Phoenix’s take on the character is sympathetic, layered, and quite spectacular in its unpredictable force, the movie itself is miles beneath that. To be sure, Joker is not the incel wet dream some thought it might be. If anything, politically speaking, it’s just a lazier remake of the supposed convictions behind the 2006 adaptation of V for Vendetta.
This is a story in which a decent human being is broken well beyond a few million pieces, at the hands of a gleefully cruel society. The movie does a good job of establishing that this is not simply some mediocre man who dreamed too big. Phoenix gives Joker/Arthur dignity. It is the only thing in the film that actually seems to have an emotional connection to a story that is supposedly relatable.
If the movie had been directed by someone else, perhaps. However, Todd Phillips doesn’t particularly care about the weight of a crowded, exhausted world on the shoulders of anyone who desperately needs help. There is no empathy in this movie. That is frustrating, since the movie makes every effort to manipulate you into believing that there is. What you have is style that leans heavily on Joaquin Phoenix to make us care, and to make us believe the movie cares about anything other than box office returns. Joker is not a commentary on a cold, selfish society. It is just another byproduct of that society. You’ve been duped, if you believe this movie actually has something to say.
The fact that sequels are now a certainty, after everyone swore there wouldn’t be, is a pretty good indication that this movie is pure product. It turned your anger at the world into one of the hottest commodities of 2019.
Which is fine. It happens to everyone.
But get off those fucking steps in the Bronx. Please. People need to go to work. As soon as your film tourism gets in someone’s way, it becomes obnoxious. You become the assholes Arthur wants to destroy by the movie’s end. The fact that so many fans of the movie fail to get that is another gentle reminder that Joker is just glossy junk food with an Oscar-worthy performance at its center.
Oh well. I’ve been wrong before. I might be now. Probably not, but I guess we can table that until January.
Gabriel Ricard writes, edits, and occasionally acts. His books Love and Quarters and Bondage Night are available through Moran Press, in addition to A Ludicrous Split (Alien Buddha Press) and Clouds of Hungry Dogs (Kleft Jaw Press). He is also a writer, performer, and producer with Belligerent Prom Queen Productions. He lives on a horrible place called Long Island.
