My top 10 films

I got nominated in a thing going around Facebook lately, of listing my top 10 films over 10 days. The idea was to simply post a picture from that day’s film but of course I went further and shared my thoughts/feelings about each one, the word count getting longer as the days went on. Anyway, I figured I may as well compile the posts and turn them into a blog post, so here we are…

Day 1

“I have been nominated by Marty Wawrzynczak to post 10 of my favourite films over 10 days. I must post one movie poster for each of my choices and nominate someone new each day to do the same.”

The original rules state that no explanation’s required but I’m gonna break that. My day 1 pick is ‘The Shining’, simply because I don’t think there’s another movie I’ve watched quite so many times. Few movies reward a repeat viewing like this Kubrick masterpiece does, and even once you think you’ve picked up on every last little detail, the foreboding alpine atmosphere of this horror classic never gets old.

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Day 2

Today’s movie came out at a perfect time: in 1999 my friends and I were in our angsty late teens, and Tyler spoke loud & clear to the angry young men inside us… Although these days we probably relate more to the perpetually sleep-deprived white-collar slave narrator. I think Fight Club’s enduring cult following comes from its prescient damnation of the ‘superficialization’ of our society, which has reached staggering heights over the course of this new century that even the twisted genius of Chuck Palahniuk could’ve barely anticipated… One can only imagine how Tyler would react to an age where Starbucks cups litter not only our bins but our Instagram feeds. In replacing ‘safe spaces’ with bloody basements, polished social media narcissism with existentialist self-destruction, and obsession with status and possessions with a lust for raw experience, Fight Club remains a necessary movie for our time: dark, forceful & sardonic, yet never losing its mischievous schoolboy sense of humour along the way.

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Day 3

When I was 12 I noticed ‘The Exorcist’ scheduled for a midnight broadcast in the Green Guide. Even though I knew next to nothing about it, the paranormal title & R rating convinced me to record it – I remember even having to learn how to program the VCR as I’d never bothered to do so for anything before. I watched the tape the next time I was home alone and, needless to say, it freaked the shit out of me. Yet I remained intrigued by what I’d seen and returned to the tape some time later, this time watching it the rest of the way through and becoming mildly obsessed (not possessed) with the film in my early teens. These days, ‘The Exorcist’ no longer warrants its ‘scariest movie ever’ tagline, but it remains an unnerving and timeless horror flick that taps into some very deep themes – of death, losing one’s faith, of puberty and the nature of evil – all brilliantly explored in William Blatty’s novel of which this is an adaptation. The fact that novel, in turn, was based on a true story (whether it really involved possession or not) makes this account of a young girl taken over by a demonic entity all the more compelling.

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Day 4

‘Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring’ was recommended to me by Attila Zeeman years ago. I d̶o̶w̶n̶l̶o̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ legally acquired it, prepared a plunger full of jasmine tea, and sat down to watch it with Kic late one night… And sure enough it was brilliant. This Korean movie follows a young boy who lives with his father (or some sort of guardian monk) in a traditional house in the middle of a remote lake. There’s very little dialogue throughout the film, which makes its striking cinematography, and its succession of simple scenes coalescing into a tale about growing up and growing old, all the more poignant and profound. The overall effect of watching ‘Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring’ is like absorbing a documentary, poem and sacred text all at once… Not a movie to watch over and over, but definitely a movie to watch at least once in your life.

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Day 5

Historical epics don’t get much better than this. Based on the first of a trilogy of novels whose place in Polish culture is akin to that of Shakespeare in English, ‘Ogniem i Mieczem’ – ‘With Fire and Sword’ – follows the exploits of a Polish lieutenant during the 17th-century Khmelnytsky Uprising, when the Polish Commonwealth came under attack by a coalition of Cossacks, Tatars and Ottomans. Part war movie, part love story, part historical drama, Ogniem i Mieczem thrusts you back into a long-lost world of winged cavalry, chivalry, witches and swordfights, when Poland lorded over eastern Europe but ethnic tensions were tearing deep and bloody fissures in the fabric of its multinational commonwealth.

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Day 6

Today, another historical epic most people would be much more familiar with: ‘Gangs of New York’. Focussing on a young lad taken under the wing of a mob boss – a classic Scorsese narrative – what fascinates me about ‘Gangs of New York’ is its hugely ambitious, dynamic, sprawling recreation of mid-1800s New York in all of its madness, violence and vice. Above all else, Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance as Bill the Butcher is hands-down the greatest character acting I’ve ever seen, bringing to life with extraordinary mastery a charismatic, brutal yet paternal gang leader who controls the ‘Five Points’ neighbourhood where the film’s set. So taken was I by the movie back in 2002 that I remember walking past the Dendy Brighton cinemas one night, realising it was about to start playing, and sneaking into the cinema to watch that incredible opening scene again, a gathering of rival gangs that culminates in a street brawl analogous to a medieval battle.

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Day 7

It’s a travesty more people don’t know ‘The Magician’ – so much so I can’t even tag it on Facebook. Combining the quintessential Aussieness of ‘The Castle’  with the violence and black humour of ‘Chopper’, ‘The Magician’ is a mockumentary about Ray Shoesmith, a Melbourne hitman who allows a film student to document his daily life on the agreement he can release the footage if Ray gets killed. And it really does feel that way – the movie was shot on a shoestring budget, the dialogue largely improvised, and the result: a lo-fi masterpiece brimming with grit, authenticity and the recognisable flavour of inner-city Melbourne. It also conveys a plausible sense of the unglamorous lower rungs of the underworld, where deals are made in pub corners and death is dispensed casually and abruptly by folks who could just as well be your local electrician or bottle-o attendant…

Yet it’s also funnier than most comedies I’ve seen, drawing on relatable everyday absurdities and nuances of character that a fly-on-the-wall approach affords. To my great surprise, in Googling the trailer to accompany this text (going for a trailer today since I know virtually no-one’s seen this film), I’ve stumbled upon a brand-new TV series – ‘Mr Inbetween’ – that resurrects Ray Shoesmith as a central character. Check it out!

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Day 8

Wanted to include a childhood favourite here and there are numerous contenders, including the weird & wonderful ‘The Dark Crystal’, the dark, gorgeously animated ‘The Secret of Nimh’, the intense (albeit highly fictionalized) ‘Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story’ – even ‘Star Wars’ and ‘Street Fighter – The Animated Movie’. But I’ll settle on this one: the original ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’. First, it was probably THE defining kids movie of the early 90s, bringing the half-shell heroes to the big screen in a script saturated with the buzzwords of the 80s as it evolved into the 90s (Gnarly, dude! Awe-some!) But there are two things in particular I like about the film, and I say that in the present tense having re-watched it as an adult a few years ago.

1) For all its apparent silliness (I mean, man-sized pizza-eating turtles running around with medieval Japanese weaponry) TMNT’s a pretty dark film atmospherically, set in a crime-ridden New York City where masked ninja thugs are potentially lurking around every corner. Shredder himself is presented with all the chilling ominousness of his similarly masked, sinister-sounding villain compatriot Darth Vader. But what earns this slapstick action blockbuster a place on my list is its distinct Buddhist undertones, personified in the wise, Yoda-like Splinter, who – at one point in the film, mentoring the angsty and troubled Raphael – speaks some of the most beautiful lines of dialogue I’ve ever heard in a movie:

‘My master Yoshi’s first rule was, “Possess the right thinking.” Only then can one receive the gifts of strength, knowledge, and peace. I have tried to channel your anger, Raphael, but more remains. Anger clouds the mind. Turned inward, it is an unconquerable enemy. You are unique among your brothers, for you choose to face this enemy alone. But as you face it, do not forget them, and do not forget me… I am here, my son.’

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Day 9

Goddamn, day 9 of my movie challenge and still so many to choose from. What about my favourite horror movie, ‘REC’? How can a Mateusz Buczko top 10 not feature a World War 2 film? The moment I thought about it in terms of something I’d like to watch one day with my kids, though, an answer immediately popped into my head: ‘Planes, Trains & Automobiles’.

I’m not big on American comedies but PTA is proper funny. As a kid the slapstick’s hilarious; as an adult you totally relate to Steve Martin’s gritted-teeth frustration and sarcastic outbursts as he deals with all the lemons life hurls at him over the course of three calamitous days. Two things really make this movie though: First, the dynamic between Steve Martin and John Candy – two comedic legends of the 80s & 90s – is perfect. But the fundamental magic ingredient is the movie’s big heart. There’s the ‘I like me’ speech Del (John Candy) gives Neale (Steve Martin) in the motel room. There’s Neale taking pity on Del despite everything the latter’s put him through, and sparing him spending the night in his car by inviting him up to share his hotel room again. Finally, there’s the absolute tear-jerker of an ending that you’d have to be stone-cold not to lose some saltwater over. PTA’s a rare comedy in that it delivers as many feels as it does laughs, and it serves up both in abundance. Nice job, John Hughes.

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Day 10

I left this movie til last coz at the end of the day, it’s probably my favourite. There’s so much to love about ‘Lost in Translation’. It’s got Bill Murray pretty much playing himself. Its opening shot is Scarlett Johansson’s bum in pink Bible-page-thin undies. It’s got an awesome soundtrack throughout, adding poignancy and tenderness to an already visually gorgeous, beautifully shot film. It’s set in Japan, a weird and wonderful world unto itself that manages to combine serene, timeless tradition with its own crazy, cutesy, high-octane version of hyper-modernity. But what really elevates this platonic love story of sorts into the ‘most memorable movies’ category is the unusual lead pairing and the relatable narrative, perfectly scripted and portrayed, that brings them together.

LoT is about two people – of different ages, genders, and at very different points in their lives – who nevertheless share the same affliction of feeling lost in life and disconnected from those around them; a situation exasperated in the immediate term by the plush but sterile hotel in which they find themselves spending long hours alone. Striking up a conversation at the hotel bar, the seeds are planted of a connection that blooms into something between a friendship and an unconsummated romance, as the two go on to share a series of adventures and intimate moments through which they end up finding themselves and making peace with their lives again. The film’s ending is the ultimate in bittersweet – I love how it has a ‘false end’ of sorts, before Bob grabs a fleeting second chance to deliver the proper goodbye they both crave – and his beaming grin at the end is intensely moving; the weary, sullen face we got to know at the start of the movie transformed into radiant joy. I should note that the film is also very much an ode to Japan – while some have accused Sophia Coppola of using the Japanese as mere comic relief, I completely disagree and believe her portrayal of the country in all of its whackiness, strange sensibilities and (at times, in stark contrast) Zen stillness comes from a place of great affection and familiarity, and indeed was a huge factor in motivating me to visit Japan for the first time back in 2008.

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My salute to Walter White

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There are a number of similarities between my favourite book, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and my favourite TV show, Breaking Bad. Drugs, sweltering-hot cactus desert, and unpredictable plot twists are recurring themes in both, but the most profound connection between the two is the quote at the beginning of the former, which for me encapsulates much of what lies at the heart of the latter:

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

When we first meet him, it’s painfully obvious Walter White is impotent. He sports a mousey little moustache; wears a colourless ‘old dad’ jumper; even when he smiles it’s like his face is being painfully stretched into an expression alien to its nature. In one early scene we see him getting jacked off by his wife, a blatant demonstration in case you still needed one that this is anything but a virile, manly man.

Around the same time though we’re offered glimpses of his former self – a good-looking man of great intelligence, calm and self-assurance – and really what Breaking Bad is after this point is a return to a supercharged and darker version of this former self… a man who’s brilliant and ambitious, but whose confidence mutates into arrogance and impulsiveness, and who becomes as intimidating-looking as he was previously pleasant- then wretched-looking. The next time we see a ‘sex’ scene it’s an actual sex scene – his libido returned, Walt engages a pleasantly surprised Skyler in passionate sex in their car. But the next sex scene we see after that is an outright assault, Walt forcing himself onto an unwilling Skyler in the kitchen, signalling that his ascent out of wretchedness is becoming, arguably, a descent into darkness… careening way past healthy confidence and assertiveness into the rough and dangerous wilderness beyond – a badland of aggression, impulse, power and control.

The ignition for all this is a cancer diagnosis, the huge treatment costs of which drive Walt to throw together an illegal meth operation. This germinates and sets into motion the evolution of ‘Heisenberg’ – Walter White’s alter-ego; in a sense a re-manifestation of the chemistry genius we glimpsed before but indelibly marked by what has happened since – and what lies ahead. Faced with an inoperable disease and the likelihood of eventual death, Walt has nothing to lose – which gives him not only the impetus to use criminal means to relieve his family of crippling debt, but affords him a critical edge over the experienced, usually much ‘harder’ criminals he contends with. “You got balls” Tuco tells the skinny, bizarrely out-of-place novice in episode 6, and he’s right… because the threat of being shot, hospitalized or otherwise killed is far less confronting when you’ve been more or less assigned a death sentence anyway.

The issue is, the cancer corrupting Walt’s body also corrupts his metamorphosis into a new man. With his cancer time-bomb ticking away he is forced to speed ahead too fast, too aggressively, along a perilous get-rich-quick route that no suburban layman is equipped to navigate – and he ultimately veers off track, giddy off the velocity, and arrives at a very different place to where any of us could’ve imagined. But for me it is understandable if not inevitable – as Walter himself says in an early chemistry-class scene:

The faster they undergo change, the more violent the explosion.

So the question in Breaking Bad isn’t “Is Walter a good guy or a villain”, but do we respect Walt for making it out of the rock-bottom situation he was in – chemistry-teacher dweeb, shat on by even his monobrowed carwash-owner boss, and now issued a medical death warrant – or do we condemn him for going too far? That’s really what the pro-Walt versus anti-Walt debate boils down to – the fact is he goes through an incredible self-actualization, finally applying his scientific genius and mustering up an awe-inspiring reserve of balls, wits and cunning – except that it leads him to criminal activity. Does the former justify the latter? No. But postmodernism dictates that at the end of the day, scriptwriters don’t determine a story’s message: the audience does, and the audience latches onto what it relates to and perceives. As a grown-up, white, middle-class man who knows how life can kick you in the guts even when you’ve only meant well, I’m inclined to cheer when someone Walter White makes good by breaking bad.

In a sense, Walter White represents the latest in a long tradition of pissed-on, then pissed-off, middle-class white dudes who do the wrong thing that feels oh so right. In the early 90s we saw Bill Foster, aka D-FENS – a dorky white-collar engineer – rampage through Los Angeles as he finally loses his shit at an estranged wife and an estranged society at large. Later in the 90s we saw Jack, a self-professed “white-collar slave”, finally break out of the stupor of his meaningless existence to forment a radical alter-ego who makes soap out of human fat and engages in self-affirming violence via organized fights. Derek Vinyard in American History X, and Lester Burnham in American Beauty, are also representatives of men who in their own way stand up to a modern American(ized) society in which the nice meek white guys seem to finish last – and they’ve had enough of that fact.

I’m not making any kind of political argument here that white men are some kind of oppressed species – simply that it’s a common thread between these films and one that invariably resonates with audiences such as myself, even if we know to take it with a grain of salt. Simply put, there is, like a very low but clearly perceptible rumble, an uncomfortable, shameful sense of waste… as Tyler says in Fight Club, “Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering.” In Breaking Bad, we see repeated flashbacks to a Walter White who could’ve been anything – who by rights should’ve been a millionaire running a cutting-edge biotech company called Grey Matter – but instead ended up on his arse, a struggling nobody, through no real fault or crime of his own… and it’s genuinely sad, and you can feel his shame and sadness, see the very weight of it on his sagging shoulders.

Which brings me to what I believe is at the root of Breaking Bad – depression. Depression is ultimately what’s behind Walter’s ongoing stagnation, pathetic passivity and wasted talent, his disappointments and regret so heavy, and buried so deep inside him, that they produce the emotional numbness and physical frailty plastered all over him yet ignored by everyone. It’s only when he’s faced with pretty much the most shocking news one can face in life – inoperable cancer in his chest, itself probably a manifestation of this mental sickness – that something is finally lit and his frozen-over manhood begins to thaw out… a spring after a long and dismal winter that, for all of the uncertainty and volatility it contains within it, is still undeniably a rebirth. “Losing all hope is freedom,” says Jack in Fight Club, who goes to cancer support groups to curb insomnia – and Walter similarly says

I have spent my whole life scared, frightened, of things that might happen, or might not happen. Do you know what? Ever since my diagnosis, I sleep just fine.

We see just how important his diagnosis is to this renaissance of himself when, after receiving news that the cancer’s in remission, he goes to a restroom and bashes the hand dryer or towel dispenser (I forget what exactly) in a rage, deprived of the time-bomb that provided the crucial focus and motivation for the mission he’d just commenced, and already was beginning to enjoy, as it breathed new life into him. Asked by Jesse “So why are we doing this?”, Walter simply replies “I am awake.” The adrenaline, the sense of mission, and the raw utilization of his long-dormant chemistry brilliance that drug-making affords Walter, is what gives rise to Heisenberg – Walter White’s own Tyler Durden, liberating him from a slow death as an ignored, underpaid chemistry teacher who potentially drains his family’s entire savings, and transforming him into a multimillionaire known and respected by even the most hardened bad-asses:

I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.

It’s Walter’s depression at the start of the series, I think, that determines whether you root for him later. Because if you know how debilitating and soul-destroying the experience of depression can be – the hopeless lack of vitality, the helpless lack of self-belief – you feel for this loser guy even as you recognise he’s a bit of a loser… and this is what makes his phoenix-like rise to Heisenberg all the more impressive – because whatever the moral sensibilities, it represents a tremendous victory over a crippling state of life and mind. I still recall the tangible thrill I got when, at the start of episode 6 of season 1, you see a premonition of Walter, head shaved, blood trickling out of his nose, storming with steely eyes through a scene of devastation which it’s apparent he’s responsible for. To paraphrase Fear and Loathing, it’s apparent this man has bought the ticket and is now taking the ride – a man no longer content to sit meekly in the back seat, strapped in til he’s immobile and told to shut up… Walter White is now very much the driver on a war path from which there is no going back. It may be the dark side of it, but he is finally realizing his potential. He is finally “awake”.

Because I sympathize with the depressed Walter I’ve ended up hating the other characters, all of whom seem to miss this point – that this was a man forced to make a beast of himself to cast off a life-sucking demon, Heisenberg representing the porkpie-hatted exorcist. Depression irrepressibly drags us down, and just as a rocket can only escape gravity and proceed into space with a huge, powerful level of propulsion, so it was necessary for Walt to take off using extreme measures. With a shallowness that’s disgusting bordering on disturbing, those closest to him see only the surface end product – a drug kingpin – immediately losing all sight and memory of the man beneath, the kind, well-meaning husband/father/brother-in-law who he was not only in the past but even as he led this second life. None of them ask “Why?” when to me it’s obviously the first and only thing they should do.

Whatever bad Walter did he generally did because he needed to – he cooked meth to provide for his family; he became hard because the world he was dealing with was brutal and ruthless; he killed to protect himself and those close to him – even twice saving the life of Jesse who’d later turn him in and express so much joy in seeing him handcuffed. Who are we to hate him for this? What right do the other characters – free from the agonizing losses, regrets, humiliations, burdens and consequential depression – are to instantly judge, turn their back and even try to ruin the rest of his life on account of this? Because according to our black-and-white version of the world Walt is now a ‘baddie’?

Me, personally, I respect the man behind the chemistry, and was moved to tears by the show’s finale, where my interpretation was (at least for me) finally confirmed by those beautiful few lines he says to Skyler:

I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it, and I was alive.

As a guy who’s just turned 30 and went through a troublesome 20s, with its own share of what-could’ve-beens and blows to my self-esteem, I understand ‘the dark side’ as a necessary if volatile ingredient in regaining one’s strength. Because sometimes you gotta get tough and angry to get back on your feet and march forward. Because as men, it’s in our nature to be proud and primal, and it can take some violence and ‘bad-assness’ to wrestle out of that slowly suffocating anaconda grip of depression. Sometimes, as in Walt’s case, the demons are so powerful and ingrained that is takes a brutal but necessary spiritual/psychological chemotherapy, that inflicts damage on one’s humanity even as it necessarily kills off the cancer of depression, regret and self-loathing. It’s just sad that sometimes, as in the case of Anakin/Darth Vader in Star Wars – one of the few sagas I’d rate on par with Breaking Bad – it drives us all the way past the edge, turning ourselves wholly into beasts to get rid of the pain that overwhelmed us before – like terminal cancer. For these tragic characters though, I feel pity rather than hate… and for Walter, who I don’t feel ever went that far, and who despite constantly proving that he was indeed “the danger”, retained his humility and his humanity to the end… I cannot help but deeply admire.

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight Rises

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