That's My Dad.

Spring Breakers -

A tense, cold-blooded thriller thick with atmosphere, laced with dark comedy, trap rap culture and a surprisingly imaginative, no bullshit introspection on post-modern hedonism. (8/10)

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Chromatics - Kill For Love

Like all the qualities of a classic art-house film, post-punk gone synth-pop quartet Chromatics quietly make their mark with one of this year’s more ambitious, subtle and captivating records, the 90-minute “Kill For Love”: a thematic and ethereal sonic canvas not unlike last year’s M83 with “Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming”, only done right this time. (8/10)

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Childish Gambino - Royalty

Congratulations! Finally a Childish Gambino release without any dick jokes!

If this statement remotely appeals to your criticisms, Donald Glover has listened to your complaining. “Royalty” quite literally plays as a large response to nay-sayers of his nerd-core, punch-line laden and occasionally aggressive rap personality. By turning up the “swag” factor and doing without nearly every speck of originality Gambino held to his name, Glover has inadvertently landed his seat in some indie-rap/Young Money hybrid convention. Gone is the DIY mix-tape production style and pop. culture references; a shame considering that’s exactly what people flocked to his shows for. Instead, “Royalty” is a continuation of his past LP “Camp” where his technical ability as a rapper is on constant center-stage; a highly unnecessary focus point considering Gambino’s early mix-tapes (“I Am Just a Rapper”, “Culdesac”) enforced that while being some of his most exciting work. Even with this album’s wide-ranged feature list, Gambino ends up looking like a fool with either superior guest spots like Bun B, Beck and Danny Brown or hand-picking awkward company like Chance the Rapper, Danielle Haim and a cringe-worthy Tina Fey. It goes to show when a nerd rapper excessively worries about what everyone thinks of him over every career move; you stop being geek and become a product of mass appeal and consumption. (5/10)

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My Week With Marilyn - 

An absolutely magical introspection into the human condition of one of the most intricate figures in film: Marilyn Monroe. With an impeccable British ensemble, luscious cinematography, pitch-perfect direction and an awe-inspiring, methodical and eternal performance by Michelle Williams, “My Week With Marilyn” attests as one of the most understated gems of art-house cinema in 2011. (9/10)

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Top 20 Films of 2011 (1-10)

1. The Tree of Life

2. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

3. Drive

4. Beginners

5. Moneyball

6. Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

7. A Separation 

8. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

9. 50/50

10. The Artist

The Artist - 

Welcome to the year’s most celebrated film in cinema: The Artist.

In case you haven’t heard about this film, The Artist is a silent black-and-white film telling a very classic Hollywood tale of the death of the silent era and the birth of the talkies.

If there’s an undeniable attribute of The Artist, it’s how many bold statements it makes towards Hollywood, decline in mainstream media and the art of cinema and storytelling, among various other aspects.

The Artist worships everything Hollywood has ever culturally stood and how it directly the human spirit at a vulnerable time in it’s history. Of course, expectedly, the film celebrates and glosses up a long lost age of glamour in popular culture, not to mention art style. A daunting task The Artist takes on is recall classically structured stories and the way they play out. You don’t even have to bother to check for authenticity, this thing plays out like something Cecil B. Demille would have made. For a film like this, that’s the biggest compliment imaginable.

Another great value of the film is how it speaks to its current surroundings in 2011 cinema. The Artist presents cryptic layers of psychological and artistic frustrations it seems to have with the characters moving from the silent era to the “talkies”, but, in modern context, The Artist addresses current films growing consistently shallow for entertainment while neglecting the concept of telling a wholesome story. It’s cheesy when it comes down to it, but no color, language or explosions are ever required to win the hearts of audiences in a theater.

Yet The Artist makes such a bold mark in modern cinema, it’s hard to call it a masterpiece when it’s core story leaves much to be desired. Classics like Sunset Boulevard or Singin’ in the Rain applied more vigor towards building a well-rounded tale of the human spirit, where The Artist falls short and feels a little too gentle for its own good.

When all is said and done, The Artist is a cinematic achievement and one specifically built to charm Hollywood and, almost definitely, the Oscars.

This film was my mom. (8/10)

Ten Films You Need to See This Year. 

Contagion

Drive

Moneyball

50/50

The Ides of March

The Rum Diary

Like Crazy

My Week With Marilyn

Take Shelter

Martha Marcy May Marlene

Drive is a two-toned poem. Cool, calm and collected. Disturbing, psychotic and heartless. There is a major split personality component to this film, a bizarre and an unforeseen mixture of elements; like drinking Mexican Coke in an American bottle. Drive is a 50/50 blend of pure art-house and grind-house; both film styles constantly given homage to by current film-makers, but never combined so dreamily like this before.

We have our unnamed protagonist, played by Ryan Gosling. Serving as a humanistic and heartless bastard, Gosling’s character is the vehicle of the film’s ultimate purpose and Gosling couldn’t have been a better driver; not literally. The biggest rush that Drive produces comes from the shifts it takes on multiple levels. With the delicate care to its characters and their relationships, primary characters allow themselves to show, not tell their psychological state. The cast make it a point to pour idiosyncratic humanism in their performances, offering a stripped-down, minimalist style of acting; common art-house stylization. The film’s approach to action is where we see the player flip the table over. When Drive comes off as a highly sensitive, quiet and sweet tale, we get bashed on the head with a load of out-of-place violence with such gore and heartlessness that we can only be astounded. It’s the only film that manages to capture the swing and psychotic nature of a ruthlessness in a protagonist. The only reason why Drive’s action comes off so disturbing is in its dense and intricate context. Blood and gore are aspects to violence that are usually given in overdoses in order to establish a tone, but with Drive, we’re completely thrown off our feet with progressive attacks of violence serving a grand purpose to create an unconventional thrill. 

Aside from shift, Drive covers its bases with a rich amount of thought. The film manages to capture glimpses of abstract existentialism all while blurring the line between realism and fantasy. Technically superior in all aspects to the point where everything comes off as dangerous, sexy and slick. Drive tips its hat to many old works, ranging from the classic style of Steve McQueen’s Bullitt to Gosling’s uncompromisingly cutthroat performance that echoes the likes of Eastwood and Bronson. It’s an inventive rework on the heist genre that always seems to get successfully remodeled. 

Drive is not a people’s film. This is strictly a work to and from art-house/film-obsessed folk. Its cast will befuddle many and please very few; director Nicolas Winding Refn is one of many directors who deliberately undermine their cast in order to carve out raw and rough performances that contrast their usual work. This always sheds light on entire layers of actors who never had the opportunity to expose. Yet on all terms and conditions, Drive is sincerely a challenging work to take in and appreciate. As a work of colorful inspiration, I cannot deny Drive the title of the slickest, meanest and finest art-house work in recent years. 

This film was my dad.