Mur13l Awards 2018: A belated thanks!

Sorry it's taken me so long to put the finishing touches on this year's Muriels. It's hard to find time to post when you're working full-time and you have tech week for a show. But as of tonight, the site has been updated with all of this year’s categories. And of course, I would like to send out special thanks to all of this year’s voters!

Josh Bell
Andrew Bemis
Christianne Benedict
Danny Bowes
Steven Carlson
Kevin Cecil
Paul Clark
Dennis Cozzalio
Andrew Dignan
Kevin Dufresne
Philip Dyess-Nugent
Steven Erickson
Molly Faust
Shayana Filmore
James Frazier
Kenji Fujishima
Caden Mark Gardner
Luke Gorham
Jaime Grijalba
Russell Hainline
Glenn Heath Jr.
Eric Henderson
Odie Henderson
Daniel Cook Johnson
Sam Juliano
Donna Kozloskie
Peter Labuza
Adam Lemke
Craig D. Lindsey
Matt Lynch
Sam C. Mac
Jeff McMahon
Patrick Miller
Matt Noller
Rob Patrick
Mark Pfeiffer
Marcus Pinn
Jason Shawhan
Alice Stoehr
Ryan Swen
Scout Tafoya
Melissa Tamminga
Bridgett Taylor
Ian Scott Todd
Hedwig van Driel
Vern
Clayton Walter
Brian Wilson
Bryce Wilson
George Wu

Thanks to everybody! See you this summer for Muriels Hall of Fame voting!

Mur13l Awards 2018 Addendum: Best Films of the 1980s poll

In conjunction with this year’s intensely serious Muriel Awards voting, we had a purely unofficial and fun-ish poll of our favorite films of the 1980s. We used to do stuff like this in the past, so I decided to bring it back this year. Next year – our best films (and performances) of the 2010s!

Here’s the full list. By now, the winner should surprise no one. I was, however, surprised by the high placement of the film at #15.

1. Blue Velvet (1986, David Lynch, USA) [228 points/20 votes]
2. Do the Right Thing (1989, Spike Lee, USA) [202/18]
3. Raging Bull (1980, Martin Scorsese, USA) [110/9]
4. The Shining (1980, Stanley Kubrick, UK) [109/11]
5. Videodrome (1983, David Cronenberg, Canada) [93/9]
6. Sans Soleil (1983, Chris Marker, France) [91/8]
7. The King of Comedy (1982, Martin Scorsese, USA) [77/8]
8. Blade Runner (1982, Ridley Scott, USA) [77/7]
9. Brazil (1985, Terry Gilliam, UK) [73/7]
10. The Thing (1982, John Carpenter, USA) [72/8]

11. E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982, Spielberg) [70/6]
12. Fanny and Alexander (1982, Bergman) [65/5]
13. Stop Making Sense (1984, Demme) [61/6]
14. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981, Spielberg) [60/6]
15. Possession (1981, Zulawski) [52/6]
16. Blow Out (1981, De Palma) [49/6]
17 (tie). L’Argent (1983, Bresson) [47/5]
17 (tie). The Fly (1986, Cronenberg) [47/5]
19. My Neighbor Totoro (1988, Miyazaki) [43/5]
20. Ran (1985, Kurosawa) [43/4]
21. The Empire Strikes Back (1980, Kershner) [42/4]
22. Broadcast News (1987, J.L. Brooks) [40/5]
23. The Princess Bride (1987, R. Reiner) [36/4]
24. Paris, Texas (1984, Wenders) [36/3]
25. Raising Arizona (1987, Coen) [33/4]
26 (tie). Come and See (1985, Klimov) [32/4]
26 (tie). The Killer (1989, Woo) [32/4]
28 (tie). The Green Ray (1986, Rohmer) [31/3]
28 (tie). A Time to Live and a Time to Die (1985, Hou) [31/3]
30 (tie). Blood Simple (1984, Coen) [29/4]
30 (tie). Back to the Future (1985, Zemeckis) [29/4]
32 (tie). Tootsie (1982, Pollack) [27/3]
32 (tie). Hannah and Her Sisters (1986, Allen) [27/3]
34. Love Streams (1984, Cassavetes) [26/3]
35 (tie). Stranger Than Paradise (1984, Jarmusch) [26/2]
35 (tie). City of Sadness (1989, Hou) [26/2]
37. This Is Spinal Tap (1984, R. Reiner) [25/3]
38 (tie). Full Metal Jacket (1987, Kubrick) [24/3]
38 (tie). Dekalog (1989, Kieslowski) [24/3]
40. The Evil Dead (1981, Raimi) [24/2]
41 (tie). Taipei Story (1985, Yang) [23/2]
41 (tie). Where Is the Friend’s Home? (1987, Iran) [23/2]
43 (tie). The Road Warrior (1981, Miller) [22/3]
43 (tie). À Nos Amours (1983, Pialat) [22/3]
45 (tie). Koyaanisqatsi (1982, Reggio) [22/2]
45 (tie). Evil Dead II (1987, Raimi) [22/2]
45 (tie). Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988, Davies) [22/2]
48 (tie). Amadeus (1984, Forman) [21/2]
48 (tie). Hope and Glory (1987, Boorman) [21/2]
48 (tie). Withnail & I (1987, B. Robinson) [21/2]
51. The Terminator (1984, Cameron) [20/3]
52 (tie). El Sur (1983, Erice) [20/2]
52 (tie). A Nightmare on Elm St. (1984, Craven) [20/2]
52 (tie). The Terrorizers (1986, Yang) [20/2]
52 (tie). Die Hard (1988, McTiernan) [20/2]
52 (tie). Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989, Allen) [20/2]
57. sex, lies and videotape (1989, Soderbergh) [19/3]
58 (tie). Tenebrae (1982, Argento) [19/2]
58 (tie). White Dog (1982, Fuller) [19/2]
58 (tie). Aliens (1986, Cameron) [19/2]
58 (tie). Empire of the Sun (1987, Spielberg) [19/2]
58 (tie). Wings of Desire (1987, Wenders [19/2]
63 (tie). The Elephant Man (1980, Lynch) [17/2]
63 (tie). Heaven’s Gate (1980, Cimino) [17/2]
63 (tie). That Day, on the Beach (1983, Hou) [17/2]
63 (tie). Once Upon a Time in America (1984, Leone) [17/2]
67 (tie). Day of the Dead (1985, Romero) [16/2]
67 (tie). Re-Animator (1985, Gordon) [16/2]
67 (tie). Akira (1988, Otomo) [16/2]
67 (tie). Hairspray (1988, Waters) [16/2]
67 (tie). Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988, Almodovar) [16/2]
67 (tie). The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover (1989, Greenaway) [16/2]
73 (tie). Airplane! (1980, Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker) [15/2]
73 (tie). Drugstore Cowboy (1989, van Sant) [15/2]
75 (tie). Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (1984, Miyazaki) [14/2]
75 (tie). Manhunter (1986, Mann) [14/2]
75 (tie). RoboCop (1987, Verhoeven) [14/2]
78 (tie). Toute Une Nuit (1982, Akerman) [14/1]
78 (tie). The Right Stuff (1983, Kaufman) [14/1]
78 (tie). Heathers (1988, Lehmann) [14/1]
78 (tie). The Little Mermaid (1989, Clements/Musker) [14/1]
78 (tie). The Seventh Continent (1989, Haneke) [14/1]
83 (tie). Ms.45 (1981, Ferrara) [13/2]
83 (tie). Mystery Train (1989, Jarmusch) [13/2]

The following films received one vote apiece:
84 Charlie MoPic
Batman
Beetlejuice
Berlin Alexanderplatz
The Big Red One
Big Trouble in Little China
Body Double
Boris Godunov
Born in Flames
Christine (Carpenter)
A Christmas Story
Cinema Paradiso
The Color Purple
The Company of Wolves
Crime Wave
Daniel
Dead Ringers
Diner
Diva
Down by Law
Dressed to Kill
Eating Raoul
Excalibur
Explorers
The Falls
A Fish Called Wanda
Fitzcarraldo
Flash Gordon
Full Moon in Paris
Gloria
Grave of the Fireflies
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
Inferno
Jean de Florette
Kiki’s Delivery Service
The Last Temptation of Christ
Law of Desire
Local Hero
The Long Riders
Loulou
Made in Britain
The Makioka Sisters
Meantime
Midnight Run
Modern Romance
Mommie Dearest
Monty Python’s Meaning of Life
Near Dark
Night of the Comet
The Night of the Shooting Stars
On the Silver Globe
One From the Heart
Passion
Pauline at the Beach
Pee Wee’s Big Adventure
Peking Opera Blues
Personal Problems
Platoon
The Purple Rose of Cairo
Repo Man
Return of the Jedi
The Road (Clarke)
S.O.B.
The Sacrifice
Shoah
Shoot the Moon
Sid and Nancy
Smithereens
So Is This
Something Wild
Stand By Me
Starman
Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story
Tampopo
Terms of Endearment
Three Crowns of the Sailor
To Live and Die in L.A.
Trading Places
La Traviata (Zeffirelli)
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
The Unbelievable Truth
The Untouchables
Victor/Victoria
When Harry Met Sally
Yeelen

And the 2018 Golden Muriel for Best Picture goes to...

“Writer-director Paul Schrader has made a career out of writing (Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ) and directing (Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, Patty Hearst, Cat People) challenging, unforgiving movies about desperate souls on the outside, looking in at a world of fulfillment, of connection, of purpose, the attainment of which they always seem to fall short. With First Reformed, he breathes life into what amounts to a career summation, a crystallization of obsessions and themes of redemption and the shortcomings of belief, and among an often brutal oeuvre I think he’s finally made a film which could be accurately described as exquisite, without betraying any of the rage and paranoia and unsettled psychological terrain that has earmarked both his finest and even his most flawed work. That word “exquisite” should in no way imply preciousness, as if anyone describing Schrader’s work could ever make room for that adjective. First Reformed is a tormented consideration of faith (and the lack thereof), the difficult possibility of transcendence, and the seemingly even more difficult act of holding ostensibly opposed impulses of hope and despair in balance without completely losing one's shit.

“Which, of course, makes it a perfect piece with Schrader’s long-expressed vision and a perfect movie for our particular moment. First Reformed speaks to the faithful in terms of what even the faithless see directly in front of them. Ethan Hawke’s tortured pastor counsels the husband of a parishioner who is despondent over the dire implications of climate change, and the transference of that burden of responsibility from counseled to counsellor addresses one of the pastor’s central spiritual crises, a profound insecurity over whether God can ever forgive us for what we’ve done, on both global and intimately personal levels. Schrader has crafted a brilliantly sustained act of tension between the spiritual and the corporeal (and the influence of each on the other), which inexorably builds toward an act of desperate release, of a man trying to make a mark on the world, on his own soul.

“The movie moves toward what seems like the emotional fulfillment of a career’s-worth of concerns given flesh which, in movies like American Gigolo and Hardcore, have often felt chilly and academic rather than truly embodied. Hawke’s pastor, exiled within his own doubt and overseeing a historically significant house of worship made into a sparsely attended tourist trap under the stewardship of a corporate-style megachurch, truly is God's lonely man. “There have been complaints that Schrader borrows too heavily from Ingmar Bergman’s Winter Light, another examination of an existential crisis of faith and the hollow church where God seems to no longer dwell, in working his way through First Reformed’s winter-scarred psychological landscape, and to these ears those grumblings sound a lot like the accusations often raised against Brian De Palma as being a facile Hitchcock copycat. Like De Palma, Schrader visits the perspectives of another visionary, but he’s hardly a shallow mimic picking over the corpses of Bergman’s greatest hits. In First Reformed he’s synthesized his own obsessions into a style that seems graced by Bergman, but in the shattering end something uniquely his own emerges, slouching toward upstate New York to be born.

“Of all of Schrader's most personal work, including Taxi Driver (with which it also shares stylistic devices and a suffocating sense of isolation derived from transcendental filmmakers like Robert Bresson) this film seems Schrader’s most piercing, the one that hurts the most, the one that offers the possibility of mortification and the bearable weight of an earthly yoke in equal measure as penance for divine deliverance.” ~ Dennis Cozzalio

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Mur13l Awards 2018: Best Picture Countdown, #2

“I consider myself a lucky person, as I managed to see my favorite film of 2018 not only once, but twice, and both times it was in a theater setting, which is surprising considering the Netflix logo that opens the film. I’m not here to bludgeon you with the same points made over and over again for the past months by Alfonso Cuarón and the critics that loved Roma, but I believe there’s no turning it around; it’s a film with the big screen in mind, made for that canvas and that overwhelming capability that usually films shot in 70mm hold onto the viewer’s mind and eyes. Cuarón managed to made a film about the routine of a Mexican maid in the early 1970s that’s as visually imposing and emotionally involving as 2001: A Space Odyssey or The Master, just to name just two classics shot in 70mm.

“There’s a clear intention behind the use of the space inside the frame in Roma. Most of the time the characters are relegated to the background, so we get the time to fully explore the surroundings, trying to capture any period detail (or fault in it), expanding upon the ambience, helped through the impeccable sound design (which puts the camera as a physical entity where the ears capture sound as much as a person in that position is able to). This isn’t because the period detail or the sets are more important than what’s happening to the characters that inhabit them, but because those objects and sounds inform of the choices they end up making. It speaks of their social, racial and gender positions inside society. But it’s not an explicit dig by Cuarón to make these apparent or obvious, as he just decides to make a portrait of the normalcy of that moment.

“Of course, the camera doesn’t always shy away from doing close-ups, or shots where the characters are near the lens. It doesn’t happen often, which is essentially strange for a film that bases most of its raw force in the emotions it can produce in the viewer, but it happens enough times for it to matter and make an impact. We see Cleo (the maid) and her face, her dark eyes, looking at us or at someone or something that’s right behind the camera in essential plot moments, the times where we most need to know what’s inside of her: her smiles, her eyes brightening, the way she looks down when she can’t say something she wants. All of it speaks volumes of both her position and draws us closer to her life.

“Most of the criticism aimed at Roma is related to its supposed lack of class awareness. If anything, Roma is exactly a film about class privilege and how that is stagnated in a lifestyle that is never willing to change, not even in the face of tragedy. There are many tragedies represented in Cleo’s body, face and movements. She will be the servant: no matter what happens, no matter how many times the kids she takes care of says that they love her, no matter how many times the mother says that things will change around the house. No matter what happens, there’s a chasm between them that can never be salvaged, not even by Cuarón homself. Some people read the ending as wiping the board and showing how Cleo is now part of the family. But if you look closer you’ll see that it’s entirely sad, an admission of guilt on Cuarón’s part.

“To act like a movie where a rich man admits that he’s a piece of shit isn’t the best movie of the year is bewildering to me.” ~ Jaime Grijalba

Mur13l Awards 2018: Best Picture Countdown, #3

“Perhaps the biggest injustice of last week’s Oscar telecast wasn’t that Green Book, a movie where a walking Italian stereotype teaches an African-American gent how to eat fried chicken, won Best Picture over BlacKkKlansman and Black Panther, movies directed by African-American filmmakers that handled race and racism in a far more insightful, challenging, entertaining manner. (Don’t get me wrong — seeing Driving Miss Daisy 2.0 win was still fucked up.) It was that If Beale Street Could Talk, the latest from writer/director Barry Jenkins, wasn’t even in the running. (At least the movie received several honors at the Film Independent Spirit Awards the day before, including Best Director and Best Feature.)

“The movie was nominated for three well-deserved awards — Best Adapted Screenplay (the movie is based on James Baldwin’s 1974 novel), Best Original Score and Best Supporting Actress, which Regina King thankfully snagged. I guess Academy voters are still twitchy and shellshocked from the last time a Barry Jenkins movie won Best Picture. It’s a shame; I found Beale to be Jenkins’s finest work so far.

“Apart from being an immaculate portrait of an African-American couple in love (Stephan James and Kiki Layne killed it as the young lovers), it was a multi-layered view of how African-Americans survive in America. Like nearly every movie that was made by a person of color last year (and that includes Sorry to Bother You, Widows and the vastly underrated comedy Blindspotting), Beale astutely addressed how Black men are still seen as unfortunate targets in this systemically oppressive society. Even though James and Layne’s characters are beautifully in love — they got a baby on the way and everything — can it still survive once he gets wrongly charged for rape?

“The movie is a wonder. Everything — the cast, the script, the cinematography, the score — is marvelously done. Now that all this Oscars bullshit is done, hopefully people will watch this film and start asking why the hell this didn’t get all the gotdamn Oscars!” ~ Craig D. Lindsey

Mur13l Awards 2018: Best Picture Countdown, #4

“In her 2015 Dissolve interview with film critic Tasha Robinson, Debra Granik, commenting on her documentary Stray Dog (2014) about a Vietnam veteran, notes the richness of the things she wished her documentary had time to cover: ‘There could have have been a whole film that could have gone much more in-depth on therapeutic discussion, on what it takes to manage PTSD, or to face ghosts, and figure out how to live the next chapter of your life.’ Leave No Trace, Granik’s third feature-length narrative film, is, perhaps, a beautiful expression of that other film that Stray Dog did not have the space to be. At its heart, Leave No Trace is about a father and a daughter, the father, Will (Ben Foster), a military vet suffering from PTSD, who has fled with his daughter, Tom (Thomasin McKenzie), into the vibrantly green, forested public land near Portland, Oregon, where, when the story begins, they’ve been living for years, off the grid, in quiet, companionable existence. Granik, with deft efficiency and a gentle rhythm, sets up their way of life--the ways they gather or grow food, collect rainwater, build fires for cooking and warmth, practice hiding from intruders who might happen upon their camp, and trek periodically into Portland for supplies.

“Peaceful though this father-daughter existence is, the film establishes the conflict at the heart of the narrative with a couple of key moments early on. The most overt threat is the threat of discovery from the outside world, but the sustained emotional center of the film is in the father and daughter's relationship, and it is there that the main conflict resides. In one early scene, Will awakens in a suppressed panic one night, as a helicopter flies overhead; we realize he is experiencing a flashback, the distress of a war time experience we cannot see. We understand, in this small moment, the immense depth of Will’s trauma: Will cannot easily go back to living among other people. But Tom is not her father. At 13, on the cusp of womanhood, we see hints of her desire for the outside world, for new connections. In another moment early in the film, Tom discovers a necklace alongside the forest trail and delightedly, eagerly, wears it. In their frugal, survivalist existence, it is a luxury, a pretty thing that has no practical value. But she wants it for herself in a way that Will cannot really understand. Even before the inevitable discovery comes and the outside world steps in to tell them their way of life is not allowed, we see the hairline fracture between father and daughter. Tom quietly longs for something outside the isolated forest. Will cannot bear to live elsewhere. But the father and daughter’s lives are inextricably linked, so much so that that they often communicate as sparsely as they live, a click of the tongue to say ‘I love you,’ a look or a gesture to express humor or tenderness. We cannot imagine how these two can live without each other, but we cannot see how they can continue either, each person getting, fully, what he or she needs.

“In the same gentle way that Tom and Will live, Granik develops her story and the conflict gradually, matching their rhythms with her filmmaking. When the rupture in their way of life comes, we watch as Tom and Will react subtly but dissimilarly to what they experience. The pain they feel when they are separated and the closeness they feel is never undermined, but slowly the fracture between them, the things they need and feel as separate human beings, widens. Tom wants to learn new things, form new connections, find a community; Will, try though he might, working at a job, living in a traditional home, cannot bear the constant reminders of a trauma that sometimes forces him down to the ground, where he cradles his head in his hands, in a pain he quietly hides from others. The entire film is a quiet one; Granik gives her actors very little dialogue, but frames them, with beautiful work from DP Michael McDonough, in such a way that their faces and bodies communicate the emotion, the things that cannot be said but only deeply felt. Granik trusts the images to do the talking and allows room for the eloquence of silence. An unassuming but assured answer to the frantic editing and frenetic images that so often fill our cinema screens, Granik offers us space to breathe and feel, to learn to love our characters and feel with them their complicated emotions.

“In the same 2015 interview Granik noted, ‘I am always interested in anybody’s roadmap of how they’re making their life work. For many people, there’s no easy path. . . . When people share insights, or reveal whatever they’re doing to be able to live their life and not be weary of it . . . I’m there. You can sign me up for any of those projects.’ That the Academy has not signed up to recognize the brilliance of her project this year is, perhaps, a sad testament to the way un-showy a film like Granik’s about society’s outliers, might be often overlooked. But I trust that, in posterity, Granik will be recognized for the humanity and the brilliance in filmmaking her work demonstrates. And many in the critical community, not least myself, eagerly await whatever project Granik decides to take on next. We’re there; please sign us up.” ~ Melissa Tamminga

Mur13l Awards 2018: Best Picture Countdown, #5

“There’s nothing like waiting on a film for years that actually delivers (in the case of Zama we’ve waited almost a decade for Lucrecia Martel to put out a new feature). This movie delivered tenfold in fact. This isn’t exactly something I’d blindly recommend to anyone (although I wouldn’t be mad at this being someone’s introduction to Lucrecia Martel’s work) but at the same time you don’t have to necessarily belong to the (“arthouse”) audience that this movie is primarily geared towards in order to enjoy it. If you’re a history buff or watch those expedition shows on A&E or the history channel then there’s no reason a Lucrecia Martel novice couldn’t enjoy Zama.

“This is new territory for Martel given that this is a period piece. The basic plot centers around the existential plight & loneliness of our main character Diego De Zama - a court councilor stationed on a remote colonial outpost waiting to be transferred back home. At the start of the film he’s already somewhat miserable & alone and things only go downhill from there (he agrees to take on a vague mission that truly tests his will).

“Race is also a secondary plot. It should be noted that the Black characters in the film (who are all slaves of course) say either nothing or very little but their presence is still profound. The way the camera focuses (and lingers) on the Black characters is very intentional.

“But while this is Lucrecia Martel's first movie set outside of modern times, it still fits with the rest of her filmography. La Cienaga may not to be a traditional “history lesson” but it is a peak in to Latin-American culture much like Zama. Diego De Zama is also going through the same kind of existential crisis as Veronica in The Headless Woman.

“The biggest strand of connective DNA is the element of loneliness & isolation. Diego De Zama is very detached. This is also a common theme in the work of fellow Argentinian filmmaker Lisandro Alonso who, like Lucrecia Martel, recently delved in to the acid historical genre with Jauja (2015). From La Libertad to Jauja (which is a first cousin of Zama) the characters in Lisandro Alonso’s universe are often alone and/or isolated just like Diego De Zama.

“Zama is the personification of complex as it is both dreary & beautiful. I’m not usually one for hyperbolic statements, but this is one of the best films I've seen in years.” ~ Marcus Pinn