If you step back and look at the whole of what the big screen gave planet Earth in 2011, it was like the people in the movie business all conspired together to ring your doorbell, filling your body with great anticipation for an awesome delivery, causing you to open the door to see what it might be and discovering a flaming bag of shit that you have to waste your time and money by putting out before it spreads. And now you have shit-covered shoes! 2011 was packed to the gills with sequels, reboots and the same formulaic hackery that has been worked over so many different ways for far too long. But there were a few memorable moments.
Every year since 2005, I've written down all the movies I've gone to see and—"NERD!"—ranked them as I see each one. For the first time since I started doing said lists, I did not see 10 movies this year that I thought were worthy of being included in my addition to the hundreds of pretentious "Top Ten" lists that are made at the end of every year (or in my case, the middle of the following year. Of course, there were countless commercial and other indie films that I never saw, but I still spent a boatload of money watching a lot of films in 2011.
This year I decided to do something new: a pop culture favorites list spanning movies, music and television as opposed to a list strictly about movies. It didn't appear that there were any groundbreaking new happenings in the world of music, but, to me, 2011 was the year of great American television.
I decided to make this a blog post because I enjoy nerding out on stuff like this. Also, any potential spoilers will be marked ahead of time, so worry not. Let's get at it, shall we?
The Pretty Damn Good's of 2011 (Memorable Mentions)
Source Code
A short, fast-paced, time-traveling modern sci-fi masterwork, "Source Code" came out in February and ended up being my favorite action film of the year.
Damages — Season 4
Being moved from FX to a DirecTV-only Audience Network may have seemed like the start of a slow death for the convoluted thrill ride that is "Damages," but the move gave the show more creative freedom, allowing for more violence and profanity—two of my faves. The fourth season delved into the dark world of war profiteering, and the season finale was a thing of unforgivably brutal beauty.
"Goodbye, Michael" — Episode 22, Season 7 of
The Office
The Office
When Michael Scott finally leaves Dunder Mifflin for good, it feels like a series finale even though the show still continues. Steve Carell's last episode was carried out perfectly and was a fitting end for a character who, for all his bumbling faults, was a man with a heart of gold.
Foo Fighters — Wasting Light
In a time where it seems like every hit on the radio is a ridiculous new dance track or a guy whistling over acoustic guitar about how much nothing he's going to do today, the veteran Foo Fighters rose from the depths of the dying fires of rock 'n' roll and mightily declared, "Fear not, people of the world. We have the rock."
These days, cinematic vampires are emotional, angsty outcasts who worry more about protecting chicks with skin as pale as theirs instead of jumping from the shadows, decapitating and/or relentlessly sucking the blood from unwilling passersby. But in "Fright Night," Jerry (Colin Farrell) takes our historical notion of the vampire and flips it on its head. Jerry moves into a new house next door to Charlie Brewster (Anton Yelchin) who suspects him to be a vampire. It's probably because Jerry does literally anything he wants to do without trying to hide the fact that he's a vampire. It's really astonishing. There are a few moments of gut-wrenching terror, but the surprise to me was how funny the movie was. David Tennant, who plays the faux-magician/vampire hunter Peter Vincent, brings so much extra life into the movie with his character's quick, drunken wit. I might be completely alone here, but I loved this one.
Without a doubt, "Drive" was the craziest movie I saw in 2011. Ryan Gosling stars as an unnamed Hollywood stunt driver who moonlights as a getaway driver-for-hire. "You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window." After a deal gone bad, he becomes more and more unwillingly entangled in the underbelly of the violent and deceitful mob. For about 45 minutes, "Drive" plays out as a subtle mystery with the viewer figuring things out just as Driver does, and then BAM! Out of nowhere it turns into an orgy of blood, broken appendages and splattered brains. Whether or not you're a seasoned horror buff, what ensues will turn your stomach for sure.
For the first time in what seems like decades, the 2000s has its first memorable cinematic anti-hero. Not since the days of Steve McQueen, Paul Newman and Clint Eastwood has there been a character in film who commands such an epic presence by barely uttering a word as Ryan Gosling's Driver character. With his white scorpion-adorned racing jacket, Driver needs nothing other than his presence to enthrall the viewer. It was flawed, to be sure, but experiences like watching "Drive" are so rare these days that its minor faults were easily forgotten for the rest of the movie's unexpected greatness.
"I've been having these dreams... They all start with a kind of storm."
A blue collar thirtysomething named Curtis LaForche (Michael Shannon) is having nightmares and visions of strange natural behavior and apocalyptic thunderstorms. His mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was in her thirties. He begins to construct a tornado shelter in the ground behind his house, much to the chagrin of his wife and friends. Is he losing his mind, or is he having visions of the storm of the millennium?
The attraction to the premise of "Take Shelter" hinges on an inherent curiosity in human beings. If you start "Take Shelter," regardless of whether or not you like it, the urge to find out whether or not Curtis is a nutcase is too strong to ignore. It's worth viewing on a basic level because there are two wildly different possible outcomes to the end of the movie. Option A: Curtis is succumbing to his genetics and irreparably losing his mind. Option B: His visions are real, and hellfire will rain from the skies. (If that doesn't grab you, I don't know what will.) What kept me enthralled is the authenticity of the performances. Curtis is a working man, someone who will do what he thinks is best to protect himself and his own regardless of the perceptions of the gossipy townsfolk. "Take Shelter" builds unimaginable tension over the entire length of the film at a methodical, thoroughly engaging pace and concludes with an ending that was my personal favorite in 2011.
There were two movies I saw in 2011 that I thought were awesome from start to finish. One is the only other movie left on this list; the other is "50/50." For such heavy subject matter as a healthy young man (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) living with spinal cancer, "50/50" takes it on full blast with dignity, grace and poetic profanity. The writer of the film, Will Reiser, himself battled spinal cancer in his twenties and was inspired to write the screenplay after the ordeal as a sort of catharsis. It's a buddy comedy, but one that will touch you deeply.
Almost every movie centered around a character living with cancer ends up being a big tear fest with said character slowly fading away, culminating in a tediously dramatic death scene with everyone in the theater sitting in their own snot. "50/50" has its share of teary moments for sure, but it shows the world that it is possible to present an account of someone's battle with cancer without being a blatantly melodramatic tearjerker. Every line comes from the heart, all the performances are gripping—even Seth Rogen's pervy character—and it resulted in the best feeling I had leaving a movie theater all year.
I was late to board the "Homeland" train. By the time I started the first episode, Claire Danes had already won seemingly every dramatic award there was for drama, as well as the show itself. The show had been built up a great amount by the time I got around to starting it. Five days later, I'd killed the whole first season. The hype is real, people.
Sergeant Nicholas Brody (Damian Lewis) is rescued from a hideout in Iraq eight years after going missing. He returns home to a rousing welcome and the attention of the entire country. Everyone thinks he is a hero, except CIA agent Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) who has reason to believe he has been turned by terrorists as part of a secret infiltration operation to make some sort of attack on U.S. soil. The viewer, for the majority of the season, is completely oblivious to what Brody has up his sleeve, if anything. What intrigued me just as much, even though it isn't the main focus of the show, is the secret that Carrie herself is hiding. In the first episode, we find out that Carrie takes an anit-psychotic medication. For what? She won't divulge it to anyone, not even her confidante in the agency (Mandy Patinkin). In the same vein of "Take Shelter," "Homeland spends all of the first season building to an inevitably dreadful conclusion, one that greatly succeeded in pulling me in for season two. It's easily the best new drama of 2011.
First of all, if you've never heard of the Black Keys, stop reading and go buy Rubber Factory. Listen to that and come back. Like seriously, right now. Take your time, this will still be here when you get back.
It was the shit, no? Now, if you haven't heard El Camino, go do the same thing you just did, and come back again.
If you are familiar with the Black Keys, then you should know by now that El Camino is easily the most awesome and consistently listenable rock album that's been released since the year 2000. That sounds like a pompous exaggeration, but this is one time where I make this statement not as opinion, but as a stone cold fact. I mean, seriously, there isn't a bad song on the entire album. If you like rock music, then you've either worn your CD player out by now from listening to this majesty so many times or you're in for the ride of your life. It's the perfect mix of soul-shaking blues and rock 'n' roll that comes up and grabs you by your respective genitalia and won't let go. "Gold On The Ceiling" perfectly encapsulates every sound I wish was part of every song ever.
There is no question about it; "Breaking Bad" is the best show on television. If you're not familiar with the show by now, then surely you've heard the premise somewhere along the line: chemistry teacher Walter White gets cancer. He decides to cook meth to leave his family some scratch after he croaks. With the help of ex-student Jesse Pinkman, he perfects the greatest recipe for meth anyone has ever seen or smoked, all while trying to stay one step ahead of his DEA brother-in-law. In season two, his cancer goes into remission. Realizing he has instead come down with a serious case of holy-shit-what-the-fuck-do-I-do-now's, Walt is forced to make the decision of staying a meth-making felon or backing out and reaping his rewards of a huge one-time score. Since the show will begin its fifth season in the summer, you can probably guess where he ends up. But you'll never see a second of the show coming.
As much as I would love to delve into the all-around awesomeness that is "Crawl Space," I won't ruin the episode. Literally, physically and emotionally, Walt hits rock bottom. There have been only a handful of episodes of television that have left me reeling - the majority of those being Lost episodes - but none have filled me with such a range of emotions as the last ten minutes of "Crawl Space" did. Bryan Cranston delivers the best acting of just about anyone ever, and the ending is pitch perfect. My words can't do much more to emphasize this episode's greatness. It's the best non-finale episode of television in years. Straight up.
Thor
I can't get enough of this damn movie. "Thor" is, to me, the most fun Marvel comic movie yet. It's so gaudily epic and the performance by Chris Hemsworth was pitch perfect, not to mention unexpectedly laugh-out-loud hilarious. "Thor" exceeded my expectations in every way, was endlessly quotable and totally worth the many repeat viewings that will happen in my future.
Michael Fassbender in
Shame
(Heads up: If you watch this movie, you will see this man's penis.)
While "Shame" will be completely unwatchable to many of those who attempt it, Michael Fassbender is one of the few actors whose films I feel absolutely compelled to watch regardless of plot. People need to know what they're getting into with this movie. In a nutshell, ol' dude has a sexual addiction that consumes almost his entire daily life, even while working, and his estranged sister shows up to his place and messes up his routine. That's the long and short of it—no pun intended. Directed by English artist/filmmaker and fortunately-named Steve McQueen, "Shame" is not for the faint of heart, but it pushes the bounds of modern filmmaking into a more ambitious and challenging direction. It is not a pleasant film to watch and honestly not one that I would recommend, but the fact that this man—who I began to admire after "Inglorious Basterds" in 2009, had the balls—still, no pun intended—to play a role that requires he bare every single bit of his body and soul to the camera adds more justification to my admiration of him as a performer. It is an incredibly raw and unrestrained performance and one of the best in 2011. In all honesty though, the way Fassbender is put together, this was probably the easiest acting gig he's ever had—dick pun intended.
Favorites of 2011
10. Fright Night
Ok. This is it. This is where you decide whether or not you are going to have faith in any recommendation I ever give from here on out. You're probably thinking to yourself, "Wait, 'Fright Night?' How the hell does this nimrod expect me to take this list seriously if he's gonna put some pansy-ass vampire movie with that random Irish dude in it as one of the best of the year?" Well, first of all, your language is rude, Colin Farrell is awesome and name-calling isn't nice. "Fright Night" was simultaneously everything I wanted it to be and nothing I expected.
9. Drive
For the first time in what seems like decades, the 2000s has its first memorable cinematic anti-hero. Not since the days of Steve McQueen, Paul Newman and Clint Eastwood has there been a character in film who commands such an epic presence by barely uttering a word as Ryan Gosling's Driver character. With his white scorpion-adorned racing jacket, Driver needs nothing other than his presence to enthrall the viewer. It was flawed, to be sure, but experiences like watching "Drive" are so rare these days that its minor faults were easily forgotten for the rest of the movie's unexpected greatness.
8. Take Shelter
"I've been having these dreams... They all start with a kind of storm."
A blue collar thirtysomething named Curtis LaForche (Michael Shannon) is having nightmares and visions of strange natural behavior and apocalyptic thunderstorms. His mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was in her thirties. He begins to construct a tornado shelter in the ground behind his house, much to the chagrin of his wife and friends. Is he losing his mind, or is he having visions of the storm of the millennium?
The attraction to the premise of "Take Shelter" hinges on an inherent curiosity in human beings. If you start "Take Shelter," regardless of whether or not you like it, the urge to find out whether or not Curtis is a nutcase is too strong to ignore. It's worth viewing on a basic level because there are two wildly different possible outcomes to the end of the movie. Option A: Curtis is succumbing to his genetics and irreparably losing his mind. Option B: His visions are real, and hellfire will rain from the skies. (If that doesn't grab you, I don't know what will.) What kept me enthralled is the authenticity of the performances. Curtis is a working man, someone who will do what he thinks is best to protect himself and his own regardless of the perceptions of the gossipy townsfolk. "Take Shelter" builds unimaginable tension over the entire length of the film at a methodical, thoroughly engaging pace and concludes with an ending that was my personal favorite in 2011.
7. 50/50
Almost every movie centered around a character living with cancer ends up being a big tear fest with said character slowly fading away, culminating in a tediously dramatic death scene with everyone in the theater sitting in their own snot. "50/50" has its share of teary moments for sure, but it shows the world that it is possible to present an account of someone's battle with cancer without being a blatantly melodramatic tearjerker. Every line comes from the heart, all the performances are gripping—even Seth Rogen's pervy character—and it resulted in the best feeling I had leaving a movie theater all year.
6. Homeland — Season 1
Sergeant Nicholas Brody (Damian Lewis) is rescued from a hideout in Iraq eight years after going missing. He returns home to a rousing welcome and the attention of the entire country. Everyone thinks he is a hero, except CIA agent Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) who has reason to believe he has been turned by terrorists as part of a secret infiltration operation to make some sort of attack on U.S. soil. The viewer, for the majority of the season, is completely oblivious to what Brody has up his sleeve, if anything. What intrigued me just as much, even though it isn't the main focus of the show, is the secret that Carrie herself is hiding. In the first episode, we find out that Carrie takes an anit-psychotic medication. For what? She won't divulge it to anyone, not even her confidante in the agency (Mandy Patinkin). In the same vein of "Take Shelter," "Homeland spends all of the first season building to an inevitably dreadful conclusion, one that greatly succeeded in pulling me in for season two. It's easily the best new drama of 2011.
5. The Black Keys — El Camino
It was the shit, no? Now, if you haven't heard El Camino, go do the same thing you just did, and come back again.
If you are familiar with the Black Keys, then you should know by now that El Camino is easily the most awesome and consistently listenable rock album that's been released since the year 2000. That sounds like a pompous exaggeration, but this is one time where I make this statement not as opinion, but as a stone cold fact. I mean, seriously, there isn't a bad song on the entire album. If you like rock music, then you've either worn your CD player out by now from listening to this majesty so many times or you're in for the ride of your life. It's the perfect mix of soul-shaking blues and rock 'n' roll that comes up and grabs you by your respective genitalia and won't let go. "Gold On The Ceiling" perfectly encapsulates every sound I wish was part of every song ever.
4. Midnight in Paris
One thing that I am 100% sure about is that I am not a Woody Allen fan. Quite frankly, I think the man himself is just about the most annoying son-of-a-bitch who ever lived. I don’t hate Woody Allen or his movies, but I’m intrigued as to how he’s lasted so long and stayed the exact same in a business that is ever-changing. His movies and methods of production have stayed pretty much the same
since the early ‘70s, and with as many movies as he’s made since then, a
good many of them have been stone cold duds. "Midnight in Paris" is not one of those movies; it was my favorite of last year.
A romantic screenwriter named Gil (Owen Wilson) travels with his fiance's family to Paris on vacation and is completely enamored with the rich history and elegance of the city and the artists who used to thrive there. While wandering around Paris after dinner and a few drinks, Gil is summoned into a taxi cab that transports him to the 1920's. Over the next handful of nights, he meets all sorts of figures from history, including Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Salvador Dali. The beautiful message of the film is that even though we humans, specifically the over-imaginative people prone to serious bouts of existentialism, tend to be inherently wrapped up in the nostalgia of a time long gone that we forget to fully enjoy and embrace the beauty of the present.
The way I put it after my initial viewing of "Midnight in Paris" via Redbox was that the movie is like a warm hug for 90 minutes. It is a labor of love from Woody Allen, an ode to a magical city and the magical people who fed off of the magic that Paris produced. It's a multi-generationally inclusive movie that shows the importance of making sure you make the best of the time you have on Earth.
A romantic screenwriter named Gil (Owen Wilson) travels with his fiance's family to Paris on vacation and is completely enamored with the rich history and elegance of the city and the artists who used to thrive there. While wandering around Paris after dinner and a few drinks, Gil is summoned into a taxi cab that transports him to the 1920's. Over the next handful of nights, he meets all sorts of figures from history, including Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Salvador Dali. The beautiful message of the film is that even though we humans, specifically the over-imaginative people prone to serious bouts of existentialism, tend to be inherently wrapped up in the nostalgia of a time long gone that we forget to fully enjoy and embrace the beauty of the present.
The way I put it after my initial viewing of "Midnight in Paris" via Redbox was that the movie is like a warm hug for 90 minutes. It is a labor of love from Woody Allen, an ode to a magical city and the magical people who fed off of the magic that Paris produced. It's a multi-generationally inclusive movie that shows the importance of making sure you make the best of the time you have on Earth.
3. "Crawl Space" — Episode 11, Season 4 of
Breaking Bad
As much as I would love to delve into the all-around awesomeness that is "Crawl Space," I won't ruin the episode. Literally, physically and emotionally, Walt hits rock bottom. There have been only a handful of episodes of television that have left me reeling - the majority of those being Lost episodes - but none have filled me with such a range of emotions as the last ten minutes of "Crawl Space" did. Bryan Cranston delivers the best acting of just about anyone ever, and the ending is pitch perfect. My words can't do much more to emphasize this episode's greatness. It's the best non-finale episode of television in years. Straight up.
2. Michael Pitt as Jimmy Darmody in Season 2 of
Boardwalk Empire
(Heads up: One GIANT SPOILER ahead)
Every once in a while there are certain performances, whether on film or television, that are so heart-achingly tragic they stick to you like hot glue for years after the initial viewing. One that particularly stands out to me is Heath Ledger's performance as Ennis Del Mar in "Brokeback Mountain." His character lives decades of heartache for brief moments of pleasure, but the morbidity of it in the film is not just for the sake of being sad; it reminds us of a real human being. We are imperfect creatures that carry burdens of all kinds, and the burdens of Jimmy Darmody, for the first two seasons of "Boardwalk Empire," were far too weighty than he ever could have handled.
In the end, Jimmy was a man who could have had it all: a great occupation, a great family and great status. The sweet, educated college boy turned WWI vet turned gangster made a series of unfortunate decisions and friendships that led to his untimely and, for myself, extremely lamented death. However, Michael Pitt's portrayal of the fictitious life of Jimmy Darmody in the 1920's, as displayed through on the the best television programs since the medium began, shows all who see it today that life in America, and the consequences of war are a generational reality, one that has been the same for young men longer than we care to imagine and longer still than anyone ever deserves.
1. "Always" — Series Finale of
Friday Night Lights
My decision to place this at number one on my list is really just to elaborate for the last time just how wonderful "Friday Night Lights" was to someone like me. My dad got me into this show in the fall of 2007. He mentioned how good it was and I said something to the extent of, "I don't give a shit about a show based off of that Billy Bob movie, football's stupid, old man, rabble rabble rabble." My dad, almost pleading with me, responded, "Will, they don't even spend ten minutes an episode on the field." My dad is one of those men who enjoys so few things on TV that if he really likes something, it's most likely fucking phenomenal. I bought the cheaply priced first season and, with constant college homework, finished it in about ten days. After also finishing a couple slices of humble pie with a side of crow, I was hooked on this tale of growing up and shaping lives in Dillon, Texas.
I could discuss at length the specifics that made this show so special to me, not to mention the thousands of other die hard fans who lobbied to keep this small show on the air for five years. Instead, I'll just take the one quotation from this show that accurately sums up the series and sticks with me more than any film, television show or from any human being, for that matter.
Early in the fifth season, East Dillon quarterback Vince Howard is acting a horse's ass to everyone because he's upset his convict, mooching, asshole don't-give-a-shit father just got out of jail and is forcing himself back in with him and his mother. Coach Eric Taylor catches on to the fishiness with his QB1 real quick and calls him in the office:
Early in the fifth season, East Dillon quarterback Vince Howard is acting a horse's ass to everyone because he's upset his convict, mooching, asshole don't-give-a-shit father just got out of jail and is forcing himself back in with him and his mother. Coach Eric Taylor catches on to the fishiness with his QB1 real quick and calls him in the office:
(If this doesn't work, I'm a stupid asshat and type "Friday Night Lights character" into YouTube.)
"That's what character is; it's in the trying." That's some deep shit, Coach.
That scene and the delivery of that line gave me goosebumps and damn near moved me to tears when I first watched that episode. That's really all any person ever needs to do and all anyone can ever ask of you: try. That's just one of the hundreds of lessons that can be learned from "Friday Night Lights." It truly is the type of series that, as a parent, you could chuck at your 13-year-old and be like, "This will tell you what you need to know from here on out." However, I don't recommend you do just that.
"Friday Night Lights" was a show that seemed so authentic in its storytelling of small town life, frequently to the point where it seems more real than any "reality" show on television today. Like "Midnight in Paris," it emphasizes the importance of the friends and family in a non-cheesy, non-"Full House" kind of way. Its characters go through tons of trouble and strife while struggling for a way to rise out of it in a noble manner.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to planning my full back tattoo of Coach Eric Taylor.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to planning my full back tattoo of Coach Eric Taylor.
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