Year in Review: Top 10 Quotes

We remember great movie quotes because they are funny or poignant or important, and many of us use our favorites in everyday conversation. There is an art to a great movie line and just a little bit of science. What will tug at the heart strings, tickle the funny bone, or stick in viewers’ minds? There is some calculation to it all. Although, just as often, writers stumble backward into something great.

The quotes that interest me most, however, are not the humorous quips or the bravado-laden boasts. I am intrigued by the individual lines that get at the heart of a film. Sometimes, these lines stick out right away, and other times, it takes a moment’s thought, but when it hits you, it hits you like a ton of bricks. These are the quotes this year that best summed up the soul of the movies in which they appeared, the lines that tell us all we need to know about the characters speaking them and the lives they lead.

10. “It’s just an ordinary pen – looks like a pen, writes like a pen, and listens like a pen.” – from A Most Wanted Man

Philip Seymour Hoffman’s German intelligence officer, Gunther Bachmann, says this to a man he is sending to do his dirty work for him. It speaks directly to the complex worldview of a man whose only job is deception. Bachmann sends many people to do his bidding, but he always believes he is on the side of right, or at least, this is what he has convinced himself. Deception is second nature to him now, including self-deception.

9. “A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing.” – from Birdman

Though never spoken in the film, this line appears on a scrap of paper taped to Riggan Thompson’s (Michael Keaton) dressing-room mirror. For a film about an actor who wants to be taken seriously as an artist in a world where being taken seriously means less and less, it is a bold statement of purpose. The villain of Birdman is the instant-evaluation culture bred by the Internet, a culture that criticizes and dismisses art with all the consideration of a swarm of flies on a fresh carcass. The line reminds us that the swarm does not matter, even if that swarm is us.

8. “This is not only your film.” – from Life Itself

Leave it to Roger Ebert, in his dying days, to sum up the great paradox of documentary filmmaking. Director Steve James is rightly protective of his craft, and Ebert is more than willing to share the struggles of his cancer and treatment, but at the end of the day, the question remains: For whom is this documentary made? For James? For Ebert’s family? For the audience? Once a work of art is completed and submitted for exhibition and scrutiny, it belongs to everyone. Speaking via email, Ebert tells James succinctly that he may be the director, but one day, the film will not belong only to him.

7. “I think forgiveness has been highly underrated.” – from Calvary

When Catholic priest Father James (Brendan Gleeson) says this to his daughter, played by Kelly Reilly, she believes he is asking her for forgiveness, and he is, but it is so much more. The heart of John Michael McDonagh’s slow-burn meditation on faith in a faithless world is forgiveness and who deserves it and who has earned it. Every character in the movie is either seeking forgiveness or committing acts for which they should be forgiven. In one line, Father James summarizes his world view. We all deserve forgiveness, whether or not we have earned it.

6. “I don’t share that interpretation of events.” – from Force Majeure

Force Majeure is about a husband and wife whose marriage has been forever altered by one shared moment, and though they lived that moment together, they did not experience it the same way. Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke) cannot face up to what he has done. He cannot admit it for fear of the blow to his pride, so he denies what he knows to be true. He falls back on trying to sound logical when his protestations are anything but. The film begins with the event, but it tells the story of Tomas coming to grips with the event as it occurred, not as he wishes it had.

5. “It’s like all of life has unfolded before us just so we could stand here and say, ‘Fuck yeah!’” – from Boyhood

The character who says this is not of particular note, but the sentiment may be the epitome of viewer reactions to the film. Boyhood is about life unveiling itself in the little moments, the details, the minutes that pass rather than the years. While we sit and analyze the past and plan for the future, life simply moves forward. The grandest statement Richard Linklater’s film makes is that we should stop analyzing and planning, and instead, maybe we should take a second just to stand here and say, “Fuck yeah.”

4. “On TV, it looks so real.” – from Nightcrawler

Louis Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a man who has not faced reality in some time. He has no goal but to succeed at whatever he may try and by any means necessary. So, he slithers through the Los Angeles night, preying on carnage and selling it to the highest bidder in network news. We know the reality. He does not, and the hyper-sensational news – not too far removed from the world we live in – certainly cannot see the reality. When Bloom tours the news studio, he says this about the fake Los Angeles backdrop behind the desk, but he could just as well be speaking about the news itself.

3. “Nobody is stopping you.” – from Winter Sleep

Said multiple times by multiple characters, the line grows in thematic weight each time someone new utters it, failing to recognize the irony of his statement. Everyone in this movie is stagnating, dreaming of a different, better life, but unmotivated to seek out fulfillment. Instead, they argue and complain and accuse others of being too lazy or too scared to chase after what they want. They are right when they say there is nothing standing in the way, but no one seems to realize this about their own goals. All they would need to do to find out is take a step in the right direction.

2. “So I’m to become a non-entity?” – from Mr. Turner

Art is an ever-evolving medium, bouncing from one inspiration to another and from this stylistic choice to that. The worst fate I can imagine befalling an artist is to live to see his pioneering style fall out of fashion. This is the theme of Mr. Turner and the preoccupation of the protagonist, JMW Turner. We meet him when he is riding high in the European art world, an influence on and the envy of his contemporaries, but no one stays at the top forever. Turner knows this, and as his life slips from him and his work falls into obscurity, he wonders aloud to his doctor if he and all he has accomplished will add up to nothing in the end.

1. “You will never do something as hard as staring someone in the eyes and telling them the truth.” – from A Most Violent Year

Abel, as played by Oscar Isaac, is a man of honor and integrity, but the business he has chosen has fallen into the muck. It is a world of thieves, liars, criminals, and gangsters. Struggling to keep his business afloat with nothing but honesty and hard work, there is no one who knows the difficulty in telling the truth better than Abel. He says this line about midway through the film to a group of salespeople-in-training. From the ground up, he is trying to build a business that is above reproach, but he has no delusions about the world around him. He is preparing his troops for the hardships they will face in following his example, but for his conscience, he must put himself and everyone else to the test.

Check back tomorrow as Last Cinema Standing’s Year in Review continues with the Top 10 Performances of the Year.

Ballots in hand: Five Oscar-worthy feats the Academy should consider

Nomination ballots went out yesterday to the members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Members of each branch – such as actors, writers, editors, musicians, ect. – will vote for their favorites in 24 categories, delivering between three and five Oscar nominees in each, except for Best Picture, which will be between five and 10 nominees.

As the Academy makes its decisions, I thought it would be fitting to make a few suggestions to members of the specific branches and urge them to take a closer look at some films that might be flying below their radars. Admittedly, few if any of the people mentioned will have their names called out on nominations morning, but hopefully, by calling them out here, I will encourage fans of great cinema to check out their work as well.

Best Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman in A Most Wanted Man

When Philip Seymour Hoffman died in February, it was a crushing blow to the film community. Inarguably one of the best actors of his generation, Hoffman was never afraid to take a chance with a character. For his final starring role, Hoffman tackled the part of Gunther Bachmann, a German intelligence official trying to come to terms the terrible things he has done and seen in the name of protecting the innocent.

Sometimes the Academy gets a little sentimental and tosses a nomination or an award to someone who has died, but rest assured, this would be no sentiment nomination. Hoffman, whose resume speaks for itself, is doing career-topping work in A Most Wanted Man. From the accent to the walk to the posture, Hoffman puts everything he has into creating the full portrait of a man who came to a crossroads long ago and wishes he could turn back and travel the road not taken.

Best Cinematography: Fabrice Aragno for Goodbye to Language

When Jean-Luc Godard makes a movie, it is an event in the cinephile world. The master French auteur has spent more than 50 years reinventing what can be done on film. He has pushed the boundaries of form, style, and storytelling with basically every feature he has made, but he has not done it alone. To push the craft, he has enlisted the help of some of the best up-and-coming craftspeople in the business.

Cinematographer Fabrice Aragno has shot only two fiction films in his career, both for Godard. His work on 2010’s Film Socialisme and this year’s Goodbye to Language 3D has been the perfect complement to Godard’s latest avant garde obsession. Some of the shots in Goodbye to Language boggle the mind for their visual complexity and emotional intensity. With so much 3D trash in the marketplace, it is refreshing to see a film that uses the technology to break down the barriers of what is possible on screen, and that is worth celebrating.

Best Original Screenplay: Jon Ronson and Peter Straughan for Frank

This could show up in a number of places on a list like this – supporting actor, original song, costumes, sound mixing, etc. – but it all starts with Jon Ronson and Peter Straughan’s weird, funny, and ultimately poignant story of the strangest rock band of which you have never heard. The beauty of the concept is that the story is told from the eyes of a pretender. He does not belong here, but in trying desperately to change the chemistry of the thing he loves, he blows it up.

Few scripts are as succinct and cutting when it comes to the world of artists, particularly the world of a bad artist. The main character is a fraud who fancies himself a talent, but when he meets a truly impressive group of people, his fragile ego breaks, and he sets off on a path of destruction, whether intentional or not. Ronson and Straughan’s script is a stirring rebuke of those who try to create but can only destroy.

Best Editing: Chris Gill for Calvary

John Michael McDonagh’s Calvary is a thriller, and like all thrillers, it is beholden to its pacing. Unlike most thrillers, it does not rely on quick cuts, fast action, and choppy storytelling. It is a measured consideration of a priest’s crisis not with his own faith but with the faith of a town whose soul has blackened. Calvary simmers and seethes, and only in the end does it boil over, but by that time, the audience has stewed so long the release of pressure is more of a jarring punch to the gut than a relief.

Gill is one of the best editors in the business, though his work is sometimes overshadowed by the flashier tendencies of the directors he works with, most notably Danny Boyle on 28 Days Later and Sunshine. Calvary might not make Gill a household name or bring him more prominence in the industry, but it should. His invisible contribution to the world of this story is indispensable, and without it, the whole house of cards would collapse.

Best Sound Mixing*: Jesper Miller, et al, for Force Majeure

It is remarkable how much of human relationships is predicated on silence. We try to define our interactions by what we say and how we say it, but the quiet moments in between speak louder than any of that. The trick director Ruben Ӧstlund plays in Force Majeure is to turn the normal silences in a long marriage toxic.

Sound mixer Jesper Miller and his team work wonders with the moments between lines of dialogue, when two people whose lives have taken a turn neither expected cannot summon the words to speak. The air is heavy, and the tension is overwhelming, which makes it that much more stunning when Miller brings in the prerecorded music, pitched at a volume greater than we would expect. The oscillation between the quiet and loud and the intelligence to know when to use which make Miller’s achievement breathtaking and turn the film from a marriage drama into a natural disaster epic.

*Note: Sound mixing refers to the adjustment of the levels of sound in a film and the balance of elements such as dialogue, music, and sound effects.

On Robin Williams, Lauren Bacall, and what we lose when an icon dies

It has been a rough week, to say the least, for film fans. The loss of icons Robin Williams and Lauren Bacall in the same week has taken a definite toll. Tens of thousands of words have been written on both, and it is not my intention to add to the noise – however sincere and heartfelt that noise may be. Williams and Bacall were legends who touched countless lives in the eight decades of work between them, and they deserve every word of honorific praise bestowed on them.

All in all, it has felt like a tough year. Williams and Bacall. Ruby Dee. Bob Hoskins. Philip Seymour Hoffman. And I certainly have not named them all. By coincidence, I had only just finished my review of A Most Wanted Man, Hoffman’s stunning final lead performance, when I heard the news about Williams. Hoffman was a personal hero of mine, and I used the review as a way to honor the actor I loved and will remember.

After that, I could not immediately turn around and write on Williams. It just was not in me, so I gave it a day. The next afternoon, I sat down to write an appreciation of the critically dismissed, nostalgically revered Hook to honor Williams and belatedly Hoskins, and the news of Bacall’s death came. Williams has grabbed the lion’s share of headlines and deservedly so – a major talent, a long life well lived yet still tragically brief – but Bacall is no less than a paragon of Hollywood cinema, a throwback to the classics of yesteryear.

In that, I found a similarity. I mentioned nostalgia, which is a word that gets used a lot these days. The Internet is an ideal place to revel in the joys of our youth, and oh, in how many joys of our youth did Williams play a part? He was the Genie. He was Peter Pan. He was Mrs. Doubtfire. He was a lost boy found in Jumanji. He was so much more of course, but to my generation, who grew up with those films and many others, he represented childhood memories that will now be colored by just a little pain.

Bacall is a representative of old Hollywood, the studio system, the “They don’t make ’em like that anymore” pictures. She taught a whole other generation how to whistle. She was Bogie’s girl and so much else. But what strikes me is how the nostalgia is the same. Loss is always painful – be it marked by the years past or the loved ones passed on – but when what we lose represents something even deeper, the pain takes on new shapes and colors and levels.

I wrote after Hoffman died that the important thing to focus on and respect was the grief of a family who had lost a father, son, and loved one. That remains true of Williams and Bacall, of Hoskins and Dee, and of any others lucky enough to influence large swaths of people. Most of us did not know them personally, and the pain we feel is not the same and could never be. But the loss we feel, that is as real as it gets.

The loss of Bacall hurts because she connected us to our past, both cinematically and nostalgically. She has gone and taken a little part of history with her. The same is true of Williams, and for many, the loss feels more personal because his films were a part of our personal histories.

When I think of Jumanji, it is tied up in memories of my grandparents’ living room – of my grandmother who has been dead nearly a decade now and of my grandfather whom I am lucky enough to have still around – a place where we would sit on the floor, too close to the TV, chins resting on our palms, and stare up at the screen. My grandmother cooked and my grandfather researched the family as they obliged their grandchildren to take over the room with children’s movies.

And what are Hook and Mrs. Doubtfire about if not the love of fathers for their children, so rarely portrayed in movies with any real insight or care. Raised by a single father myself, I know what that love looks like, and as engrossing as those films are, what I take from them is the love of fathers for their children and how it might not hurt to send a little of that back the other direction.

So, yes, let us mourn the passing of Williams and Bacall and all those others. The loss of icons is great, but the loss of what they represented will be felt even as the years press on. Those memories of my grandmother’s French toast, of walking around the lake with my grandfather, of my own father who went to work every day but always came home – those memories are tinged with just a little more sadness now, but I will take the sadness as long as I can keep the memories.