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87. How High -- Jesse Dylan (*½) A filthy stoner comedy so scattered in its target, timing, and design that one can't even distinguish its jokes apart enough to realize how excruciatingly flat most of them really are.
86. Swordfish -- Dominic Sena (**) An opulent Hollywood action flick can concoct no better scheme to undermine its own fun factor than to interpolate pretentious tirades on "the justice of crime" in between its set pieces. Had the set pieces been of more interest in and of themselves, maybe Swordfish's cheeky attitude would've been easier to disregard.
85. Ali -- Michael Mann (**) This nebulous biopic relies primarily on expressionistic montage sequences to idolize its subject, but it carries itself without a trace of the structural discipline or insight one would expect from an auteur of Michael Mann's stature.
84. Evolution -- Ivan Reitman (**½) A mildly spirited throwback to the high-scale, high-budget comedy of Ghostbusters, Reitman's latest showcases the degeneration of the director's comic talent in the face of a corporate and public demand for toilet humor. This isn't even to mention that the picture's assortment of low-brow gags isn't even offered enough breathing room alongside the director's rather cloying penchant for over-the-top special effects.
83. Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within -- Hironobu Sakaguchi (**½) Lushly detailed, but short on spirit, ingenuity and thought, this CGI "spectacular" exemplifies science-fiction at its most inconsequential.
82. Rat Race -- Jerry Zucker (**½) Rat Race's simple and potentially fertile premise ends up being executed with more energy than an audience will be able to tolerate. Even the film's most inspired gags have been so lavishly conceived as to smother their own humor with their expensive design.
81. Kate and Leopold -- James Mangold (**½) Cozy, fluffy warm-heartedness only flies so far, and beyond a certain point, this flick should've learned to abandon the quaint time-travel gimmick in favor of some good, old-fashioned, character-based romance.
80. Spy Game -- Tony Scott (**½) Tony Scott has finally delivered a single-film compilation of all the cheap, overwrought editing gimmicks and jazzy photographic ploys that a recent Film Quarterly article has finally devised a term for: "intensified continuity." In other words, Scott's logic is that if he uses enough cuts and fast-motion transitions in his mise-en-shot, he'll dazzle the audience into forgetting that they're actually watching a movie.
79. The Others -- Alejandro Amenàbar (**½) The Others pushes too far to its restrained extreme, offering no payoffs for its bone-chilling setups, and proving that "sophisticated" thrillers can be just as meat- headed as flashy ones.
78. Planet of the Apes -- Tim Burton (**½) Perhaps recycled social commentary is too much to ask for, but this blockbuster's multitude of recycled visual flourishes can't merit much praise on its own.
77. The Curse of the Jade Scorpion -- Woody Allen (**½) Woody Allen could've regurgitated this screenplay over a Friday evening, and judging from the man's irrepressible talent, that must be why his latest is only lightly discouraging in its mediocrity. But even as film for film's sake, The Curse of the Jade Scorpion only leaves us to feed on the wit of the dialogue, which clearly hasn't been sanded down to Allen's standard (or anyone's, for that matter).
76. Novocaine -- David Atkins (**½) In this frantic noir fueled by the allure of Helena Bonham Carter's poisonous femme fatale, debut director David Atkins insists on slathering a gooey veneer of exaggerated goofiness over all the proceedings, resulting in a feature that strains to be weird and colorful without realizing why it even bothers to do so.
75. The Mexican -- Gore Verbinski (***) What makes this star-driven charmer initially offbeat is its choice to strand its male and female stars in separate universes. But what really carries The Mexican past the finish line is James Gandolfini's performance, a cute study in contrasts.
74. Osmosis Jones -- Peter and Bobby Ferrally (***) Osmosis Jones presents a tough verdict, as it fuses an abysmal gross-out farce (filmed in live-action) with a gloriously inventive adventure of the human physiology (rendered in jaunty animation). Which one outweighs the other? The viewer's threshold for bottom-of-the-barrel toilet humor may ultimately have to dictate the tipping of the scale.
73. Blood: The Last Vampire -- Hiroyuki Kitakubo (***) As an exercise in glitzy animation, Blood can be forgiven its virtually nonexistent narrative drive for the sake of its visuals, which in some instances blend CGI and traditional artwork with an unprecedented seamlessness.
72. 15 Minutes -- John Herzfeld (***) This insanely heavy-handed attack on media exploitation blurs the line between satire and subject unnervingly well. While it openly showcases the fact that it's brains have been splattered all over the wall from Frame 1 onward, its passions ultimately transcend the quality of its execution (though it can be reasonably argued that director John Herzfeld's execution has managed ways of disguising its own brilliance).
71. Jurassic Park III -- Joe Johnston (***) Alexander Payne's frisky screenplay would rather not lecture us viewers on the hazards of meddling with Mother Nature. After contriving another excuse to plummet Sam Neill back in peril, this third installment of the series contents itself with yet another round of cleverly devised thrills.
70. The Fast and the Furious -- Rob Cohen (***) A mind-numbing but spirited B-flick that knows how to mount a precarious set piece and, just off to the side, generate a bit of a "moral dilemma" for its protagonist.
69. Kiss of the Dragon -- Chris Nohan (***) This fierce, bone-crunching martial-arts fare remains lacking in two qualities: intelligence and clumsy CGI tricks. Both deficiencies benefit the tight choreography.
68. Angel Eyes -- Luis Mandoki (***) Though it glides along with the soap-opera spirit, Angel Eyes is wise not to dilute a serious emotional energy with the pat, unearned resolutions we'd expect from a Hollywood romantic thriller.
67. Donnie Darko -- Richard Kelly (***) Like Spielberg's A.I., Donnie Darko is a suggestive film of dark ideas and morbid premonitions, but even as its take on teen angst demands the uneven narrative structure Richard Kelly has opted for (combining time travel and psychosis for an offbeat effect), very little of all this "profound" material has been reigned in and developed into something truly workable. The screenplay reaches desperately for effect, achieves it, but then doesn't have much else to survive on. Yet in spite of its many glaring foibles, Donnie Darko heralds the arrival of an unusual new directorial talent, capable of fashioning moods that linger far beyond a picture's mere running time.
66. A Knight's Tale -- Brian Helgeland (***½) Though parody may not have been intended here, Brian Helgeland's nutty romp through the Medieval jousting scene can almost be received as an inflated version of Gladiator, joyously calling attention to its anachronisms and dopey showboating.
65. Zoolander -- Ben Stiller (***½) The dubious success of this feature lies mostly in its surrealist humor, a brand of comedy that requires actors willing to push way too far without evincing a conscious effort. Ben Stiller's cast may overwork itself from time to time, but the players generally have their knack for effortless stupidity down pat.
64. Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back -- Kevin Smith (***½) Kevin Smith charges ahead at his most lascivious and least pretentious, abandoning good taste altogether as he caps off the New Jersey Chronicles with his nastiest antics yet. Indeed, his is the choicest breed of toilet humor: punishingly vulgar, but generally free of the scatological references that often pervade modern slapstick. This comic blowout is cheerfully offensive, but not nauseatingly so.
63. The Golden Bowl -- James Ivory (***½) The Merchant-Ivory collaboration sets its audience far apart from its characters in this observant Henry James adaptation, but does the picture's sense of detached objectivity work too hard against our concern for the situation? The approach is an effective one, but not quite so effective as to render any intimacy superfluous.
62. A.I. Artificial Intelligence -- Steven Spielberg (***½) One of the year's most disastrous, most compelling motion pictures, A.I. represents at its best a jarring amalgam of two sensibilities that don't quite equate with one another thematically: the Kubrickian postmodernism and Spielbergian idealism clash wonderfully and terribly for an unprecedented, baffling effect. And although Spielberg has taken no steps to discipline his film's philosophical weight, the presence of that weight can't be very confidently denied.
61. The Road Home -- Zhang Yimou (***½) This simple, evocatively composed parable of young love could've flourished on its own without a narrator to imposingly recapitulate the conflict for us, but the tale nonetheless vibrates with an undeniable weight of truth.
60. Himalaya -- Eric Valli (***½) This feature's vast, sweeping widescreen compositions of the Himalayan landscape inspire viewers to project their imaginations far and beyond the dimensions of the story, an affair owing its mythic grace primarily to the photographic intensity of its production.
59. Iron Monkey -- Woo-ping Yuen (***½) Whereas Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was both poetically grandiose and giddily rousing, Iron Monkey, an earlier effort directed by the former feature's choreographer, owns up only to the more obvious of those two virtues.
58. K-Pax -- Iain Softley (***½) Kevin Spacey's role as a schizophrenic who might be an alien who might just be Jesus Christ remains shrouded in ambiguity throughout the entire film. Up until the forcedly mystical climax, this choice remains crucial to bolstering the film's allure as an engaging puzzle, albeit a rather hokey one. But as director Iain Softley allows this mystery to linger permanently, even beyond a final shot inviting us to make up our own minds, he reveals an aim toward cheap "thought provocation" that simply can't excuse the fact that he didn't quite know where to carry the story.
57. From Hell -- Allen and Albert Hughes (***½) This lurid conspiracy thriller actually functions more noticeably as a mood piece than a whodunnit, as its historically theorized take on the Jack-the-Ripper scandal tends to take a perfunctory back seat to the art direction, which, though critical purists may contend otherwise, stands as a nice little accomplishment all on its own.
56. Bread and Tulips -- Silvio Soldini (***½) We've seen enough sleeper hits chronicling the housewife's discovery of her own independent spirit, and enough instances in which the film's offhanded charm rescues it from mediocrity, but why not one more? As derivative as it may be, Bread and Tulips knows its material by heart, and its story capers on its way with just enough vigor to stir us to tag along.
55. Ocean's 11 -- Steven Soderbergh (***½) Sly and quirky and built with craftsman precision, Steven Soderbergh's Ocean's Eleven marks a playful digression from his characteristically ambitious film fare, but perhaps it would've been a more welcome scrap of fluff right after Erin Brockovich's shameless grandstanding, as opposed to following from the heat of the director's magnum opus Traffic.
54. Boesman & Lena -- John Berry (***½) In a strident feat of the all-but-obsolete heightened acting style of Old Hollywood, Danny Glover and Angela Bassett convey through their conflicted rapport the psychological ramifications of apartheid. The blacklisted Hollywood talent John Berry (now deceased) directs this his final feature with a tired, resigned simplicity to allow his actors all the room in the world to broadcast their theatrical intensity.
53. Training Day -- Antoine Fuqua (***½) Denzel Washington sinks his teeth into the acme of over-the-top melodrama and pulls through with a performance that's simply jarring in its raw, unfiltered energy, though there's little else to note of his accomplishment. At least it's suited to the material, which takes the ambiguities of good and evil for yet another fresh spin through some tempestuous, but ultimately shallow waters.
52. Hedgwig and the Angry Inch -- John Cameron Mitchell (***½) The lesser of the year's two neo-musicals is still unexpectedly affecting in the way it allows its confrontational tone -- a by-product of the bitter, self-pitying angst of sexual dislocation with which its story is concerned -- to steadily dwindle as the lead transvestite's life progresses on its downward spiral, as if the film itself is laboring as much as the protagonist to conceal the anxiety at the core of Hedwig's provocative behavior.
51. Vanilla Sky -- Cameron Crowe (***½) Cameron Crowe poses desperately here as the David Lynch of the new millennium, but he probably didn't quite foresee how this cheeky metaphysical free-for-all would hold up against the enigmatic weight of Mulholland Drive. Still, Vanilla Sky is invigoratingly pretentious as it strains to baffle us with all its surrealist mind games, after which it apologetically explains away all the confusion in the blink of an eye. But to be fair, I'd have to call this mindless entertainment at its most thoughtful.
50. The Dish -- Rob Sitch (***½) This humanist Aussie comedy looks out compassionately for the little guys amid historic happenings of cosmic importance, making the irrelevance of their personal dilemmas seem subtly moving within the context of their times. It's almost like a tiny counterpoint to the postmodernist detachment of Kubrick's 2001.
49. Shrek -- Andrew Adamson, Vicky Jenson (***½) Mercilessly lampooning the Disney-esque cuteness of which our population has apparently grown so wary may perhaps be an endeavor worthy of tireless acclaim, and indeed, it yields some potent humor in the long run. But this sort of trenchant cynicism can only stretch so far -- so far, that is, before it begins to appear aggressively irreverent, a quality I wouldn't mind so much if Dreamworks weren't so quick to congratulate itself for churning out "the world's first multi-layered animated farce." As fiercely entertaining as Shrek may be, its creators have obviously forgotten that adult-oriented comedy can't quite compensate for a bankrupt visual imagination.
48. The Tailor of Panama -- John Boorman (****) Pierce Brosnan clearly relishes his opportunity here to finally serve as the stark antithesis to his customary 007 screen persona, and the man's self-indulgent performance is just one of the many treasures to discover in this disarming John le Carré adaptation, a spy thriller charged by witty rapport rather than the old cut-and- dried action violence so familiar from James Bond's heyday.
47. Atlantis: The Lost Empire -- Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise (****) Disney flies off on a tangent (at least faintly) by nudging its animated fare further toward the hard-edged sci-fi lyricism heralded by the Japanese, though the studio retains some of its characteristic comic buoyancy for the sake of securing that tried- and-true traditional appeal.
46. Joy Ride -- John Dahl (****) John Dahl isn't afraid to deliver self-consciously goofy entertainment. The real question is: Are you afraid to submit to it? Perhaps one would carry the praise too far to describe this creep-show's visual aura as faintly "expressionistic," but in a baffling way, Dahl's achievement with this surrealistically off-the-wall B-flick may in fact merit just that sort of extravagant assertion.
45. Me You Them -- Andrucha Waddington (****) From its familiar but charming testament to the true dominance of the female sex to its rambunctious account of a screwball family life, this Brazilian homespun comedy may not strike any pithy chords, but it still feels very full and content with the exercise of relating a story (and an exceptionally engaging one at that).
44. Monsters, Inc. -- Pete Docter (****) Pixar's latest reminds us that children's entertainment needn't be cynically multilayered to qualify as witty storytelling. Hot off the heels of Dreamworks' Shrek, this experience proves immensely refreshing.
43. Moulin Rouge! -- Baz Luhrmann (****) The subversive pop musical of the new millennium takes excess to brand new heights as Baz Luhrmann, the delinquent who recently perpetrated Romeo + Juliet, gleefully lampoons the genre while reveling in the open-canvas stylistic opportunities it's so conveniently offered him.
42. Heist -- David Mamet (****) Rug-pulling aficionado David Mamet doesn't pull a narrative double-cross here as well as he did in The Spanish Prisoner, but this minor failing simply allows his screenplay's personalities and tersely lyrical dialogue to dominate the limelight.
41. Our Lady of the Assassins -- Barbet Schroeder (****) Shot with guerrilla-style haste in Colombia's most perilous urban jungle, Our Lady of the Assassins takes a poetically realistic glance at the corruption of the human individual as the foundation for the corruption of the human culture (not vice versa).
40. Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone -- Chris Columbus (****) Though overlong for a children's yarn, this much-derided adaptation of J.K. Rowling's overnight legend is about as visually lush as these features get.
39. Bread and Roses -- Ken Loach (****) For just another piece of muckraking agitprop, Ken Loach's latest politically charged social drama pays surprisingly close attention to character.
38. O -- Tim Blake Nelson (****) Discriminating audiences will have a rough time resisting the tendency to feel superior to this teenage rendition of Othello, but it must be said that the material has been observantly reworked into an entity all of its own. The melodrama is indulgent, the plotting contrived, but the production team only "stoops" to these dramatic "lows" in deference to the original spirit of Shakespearean tragedy.
37. Black Hawk Down -- Ridley Scott (****) Ridley Scott has proven himself quite bold to deliver a war film that abandons the old sentimental interest in character in favor of a grueling simulation of the combat experience.
36. The Deep End -- Scott McGehee, David Siegel (****) The potency of the maternal instinct is tested cleverly in a unique film-noir setup that pits the American mother against the criminal forces that threaten her son.
35. The Princess and the Warrior -- Tom Tykwer (****) This sullen art film invites us to dissect its characters' mysterious personal dilemmas, generally adhering to a studied kind of mood that lends one the impression of some unfathomable enigma lurking between the lines. Or is that just an impression?
34. Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust -- Yoshiaki Kawajiri (****) Yoshiaki Kawajiri has fashioned another rousing animated hommage to the Sergio Leone western, this time within the context of Gothic sci-fi horror. The result is more atmospheric than his masterful genre standard Ninja Scroll, but not quite as ingeniously devised.
33. No Man's Land -- Danis Tanovic (****) This satire on war, politics, and media intervention seems to throw its hands up in the face of an irredeemable global fiasco, but it's very timely and quite on target.
32. Memento -- Christopher Nolan (****) Christopher Nolan's puzzle flick told backwards actually manages to justify its last-minute, rug-pulling climax in that it lays the groundwork for audience manipulation throughout its entire running time.
31. Sexy Beast -- Jonathan Glazer (****) The uneven story structure contributes well to this piece of pop-mysticism gangster lore.
30. The Man Who Wasn't There -- Joel and Ethan Coen (****) The Coens' deceptive storytelling hijinks can't be disguised by this picture's frivolous, but evocative monochrome cinematography, even as the two talents labor so earnestly to prove themselves much more than mere stylists.
29. Spy Kids -- Robert Rodriguez (****½) Who would've guessed that Robert Rodriguez could carry this impishly inventive children's fantasy with so much delicious gusto? He seems to have finally delivered on the promise of his farcical short film "The Misbehavers" (of Four Rooms ill repute), and it's safe to say the wait was worth the reward.
28. The Score -- Frank Oz (****½) Frank Oz's heist flick plays by the rules of the game at its own steady, surefooted pace, building patiently on the suspense to arrive at one resoundingly thrilling payoff.
27. Bridget Jones's Diary -- Sharon Maguire (****½) A tribute to the resiliency of modern woman as well as the resiliency of romantic comedy in general, a joyous revitalization of the entire genre.
26. Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India -- Asutosh Gowariker (****½) This Bollywood crowdpleaser juggernaut works a more inventive magic on the formula it's pilfered from California studios than our nation's moviemaking moguls could ever dream of accomplishing today.
25. Baby Boy -- John Singleton (****½) John Singleton's thematic follow-up to Boyz in the Hood finally rivals Spike Lee's best with its take on the black male's infantilized consciousness within modern-day U.S.A.
24. The Pledge -- Sean Penn (****½) Jack Nicholson embodies one of 2001's few legitimate specimens of the classic Aristotelian tragic hero as a detective whose obsession with one final case plummets his soul into madness.
23. Panic -- Henry Bromell (****½) This unassuming amalgam of film noir and Greek tragedy may inspire some recollections of HBO's The Sopranos, but its heart and its mind are situated in an altogether different dimension.
22. Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade -- Hiroyuki Okiura (****½) For one of the most technically accomplished spectacles of hand-drawn animation ever to grace the silver screen (and perhaps one of the last), the ironic shock here actually lies in the picture's narrative: a quiet, studied little fable paralleling "Little Red Riding Hood" in a mode that would appear more appropriately suited for a live- action arthouse release.
21. Lantana -- Ray Lawrence (****½) Ray Lawrence has carefully organized this indictment of a modern culture permeated by the deep-seated suspicion of its own dignity; as the figures of this ensemble drama gradually abandon their faith in one another, the very fabric of their society seems teetering on the verge of unravelment.
20. Bully -- Larry Clark (****½) A grotesque cinema-verité production that captures the decay and self-destructive prurience of an entire generation, for the most part failing to address all the moralizing "solutions" for this sort of teenage decadence that it could've just as easily smeared in our faces.
19. A Beautiful Mind -- Ron Howard (****½) Classical Hollywood filmmaking sees a fitting revival in Ron Howard's rather crafty biopic, a feature that transfers the formula of blockbuster melodrama into the overexploited territory of psychosis without succumbing to more than a couple clichés.
18. Innocence -- Paul Cox (****½) This paean to geriatric passions travels beyond the supposed "novelty" of a story about elderly romance and into the intimate concerns of its characters, whose personalities are by no means overshadowed by the picture's unconventional premise.
17. Divided We Fall -- Jan Hrebejk (****½) A deviant Holocaust farce that recalls Billy Wilder at his manic best, all the while striking some sharp emotional chords beneath the surface.
16. Amélie -- Jean-Pierre Jeunet (****½) Cloyingly cute and capricious for some viewers, but nonetheless brimming with warmth and verve, Amélie altogether remains a rare sleeper hit that can inspire whole crowds without the burden of hackneyed sentimental treacle on its shoulder.
• Wit -- Mike Nichols (****½) [special consideration] An overtly glib, but compelling meditation on the isolated psyche of a cancer patient, broadcast exclusively on television, but unequivocally worthy of theatrical recognition.
15. Monster's Ball -- Marc Forster (****½) Human misery receives insightful treatment from Marc Forster's tribute to the implicit, subconscious communication between kindred wounded spirits.
14. Under the Sand -- François Ozon (****½) Bergmanesque psychoanalysis and Hitchcockian intrigue find a tantalizing fusion in this story of a woman straining to cope with the sudden disappearance of her husband.
13. Chunhyang -- Im Kwon-Taek (****½) This Korean folk-fable dramatization reaps rich fruit from its abstractly mythic narrative.
12. Va Savoir -- Jacques Rivette (****½) French New Wave legend Jacques Rivette delivers an offhandedly symphonic ensemble romantic comedy with little discernable effort.
11. The Royal Tenenbaums -- Wes Anderson (****½) A quantum leap for Wes Anderson. At last, he tones down his stylized production design and allows his screenplay some air, and his affinity for character and situation now shines through brilliantly.
10. Gosford Park -- Robert Altman (*****) 9. In the Mood for Love -- Wong Kar-wai (*****) 8. The Widow of Saint-Pierre -- Patrice Leconte (*****) 7. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring -- Peter Jackson (*****) 6. The Circle -- Jafar Panahi (*****) 5. Ghost World -- Terry Zwigoff (*****) 4. In the Bedroom -- Todd Field (*****) 3. Waking Life -- Richard Linklater (*****) 2. Amores Perros -- Alejandro González Iñárritu (*****) 1. Mulholland Drive -- David Lynch (*****) |
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André Lyon’s Complete 2001 Film ranking |
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2001 in Review |
