RTD: 10 Most Overrated

AMOUR (2012, dir. Michael Haneke)

Of all the films I have on this list, Amour is the one I dislike the least, so much so that I sometimes question if I should be including it on this list – its two lead performances from Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are amazing, its solitary setting is effective, and there are moments of mortal dread that would send chills up even Ingmar Bergman’s spine. In spite of this, when all is said and done, my ultimate reception is lukewarm, an identical reaction to every Michael Haneke film I’ve seen yet. There’s a cold detachment that permeates through every one of his films, and this film is no exception. What ultimately lands Amour on this list, though, is the overwhelming grand-scale praise it receives, even being called one of the very greatest films of the century (so far, anyway). I truly hope for Haneke to click with me one day, and maybe that day will come, but for now, I will continue to be the voice of dissent.

CAROL (2015, dir. Todd Haynes)

Face it: it is no longer progressive or radical to make movies about people with secretive lives in the 1950s, and dare I say that its debatably unnecessary to make such movies anymore. Todd Haynes should be the first to know this, considering he made the excellent Far from Heaven, which is very much this kind of movie. Well, he appears to still have hang-ups with taboos and the 50s, because now he has brought us Carol, a vapid study of a secret lesbian relationship during this time. Nothing whatsoever is worth getting involved in, and not even the film itself seems particularly interested in what it has to say. Carol plods along in all of its tediously flat glory, without any kind of clever writing, riveting drama, spectacular production design, awesome performances, or even any heart and soul to latch on to, and after all of that vacuously familiar melodrama, Carol adds absolutely nothing new for gay cinema. And because of that, this might be my most hated on this entire list.

DRIVE (2011, dir. Nicolas Winding Refn)

Drive is one of the most pretentious examples of “style over substance” I’ve ever seen. This movie is trying so, so hard to be cool and edgy that it borders on being downright precious. Tightrope-tense action set in stark contrast with a hypnotizing electronic score (admittedly the best parts of the movie)? Check. An attempt at humanization of a gritty criminal by involving him in a terribly forced side-plot that has little fit to the material at hand? Check. Vapid character interactions masquerading as surreal to give the viewer the illusion of substance? Check. Drive was one of the films to gravitate us toward Ryan Gosling, whose uniquely quiet style of acting emanates a very unique presence, but Drive couldn’t quite figure out just how to handle him, so his performance comes off as unflattering strange – in all fairness, I blame this in part on the material & directing he was given. When his talents are exercised correctly (which is more often than not), Gosling has gone on to be an exceptional actor, and it's great seeing him move forward from Drive. If only everybody else could.

FRANCES HA (2012, dir. Noah Baumbach)

Admittedly, my exposure to Noah Baumbach’s work has been fairly minimal, but his work that I’ve seen has convinced me that he does not live in the real world. His films feel endlessly filled with bohemian-esque would-be artist types with little connectible qualities or relatable struggles, and nowhere are Baumbach’s worst traits more prevalent than Frances Ha. This film is such a negative stereotype of indie cinema its almost remarkable: following the Woody Allen playbook, a dancer (Greta Gerwig, who’s trying way too hard) in the Big Apple floats from one cushy joint to the next, wallowing in her ennui and unrealized aspirations with zero reason care beyond her “I’m so quirky and indie” attitude, surrounded by an uninteresting and gentrified New York City (hey, it’s in black & white, though!). Perhaps there’s some kind of satire going on, but Frances Ha feels so unironic and sincere that it’s a laughable effort.

GET OUT (2017, dir. Jordan Peele)

I found a few things to like within Get Out – the Sunken Place sequence is memorable, Daniel Kaluuya shows a promising future as an actor, and the protagonist’s security guard friend is an absolute riot. In general, I suppose I can understand the appeal of Get Out to a certain degree. The key words there are “certain degree”. What I can’t understand is how Jordan Peele’s admirable yet ultimately flawed debut – marred by serious tonal imbalance and a hilariously off-the-rails climax, with no particularly memorable style – is widely regarded as this visionary masterwork of horror and social commentary, as if that’s never been done before, let alone done better or even more memorable – despite the elements I mentioned earlier, I struggle to remember any kind of significant impact any of the film may have had while I was watching it. It just kind of comes and goes. Personally, I’m more in favor of Peele’s follow-up, Us. Also flawed, but it is a lot more poignant, clever, and, frankly, scary.

HOLY MOTORS (2012, dir. Leos Carax)

Listen, a movie doesn’t necessarily have to have a cohesive narrative to be an enjoyable experience. In fact, that’s the key word: experience, and that’s what matters at the end of the day after watching a movie. Then there are films that abandon the idea of narrative in favor of being a totally unique experience, films like The Color of Pomegranates and Upstream Color. While this isn’t particularly to my taste, I can appreciate them. But now we have Holy Motors, which follows the routine of Mr. Oscar (Denis Lavant) and all of the strange affairs he gets involved in, with no particular stakes or bigger picture at hand. Just a series of vignettes – fine. But what is so special about Holy Motors? I didn’t see anything particularly profound ideas behind it, no distinct style, or no interesting visuals or effects (with the exception of an awesome body-motion capture sequence) – just a lukewarm series of weird things, which aren’t even entertainingly weird. Holy Motors has become one of the most beloved arthouse films of the last 10 years, but if you’ve yet to see it, trust me when I say you’re not missing much.

MOONLIGHT (2016, dir. Barry Jenkins)

The first third of Moonlight is some of the most riveting and piercing drama I’ve seen in quite some time, driven by a powerful dynamic between its central characters, further anchored by a bold performance by Mahershala Ali, a performance so strong I stood and applauded his Oscar win as it unfolded on the television. And then the rest of the film played out, chronicling the coming-of-age and sexual discovery of Chiron (played by three different actors), and it didn’t take long for the film to gradually lose my attention, due to a second act that feels all-too familiar, and a third act that moves at a snail’s pace just to arrive what felt like absolutely nowhere, all of this with no attempt at any kind of distinct singularity: no remarkable cinematography, a half-baked script. Because of the mastery of that first third, all of these issues I have with Moonlight become all the more exasperated. At least the Best Picture flub made for an entertaining moment at the 2017 Oscars.

PHANTOM THREAD (2017, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

Trust me when I say I genuinely want to like Phantom Thread: the story of a meticulous dressmaker (Daniel Day-Lewis) and his dominant relationship with a modest and submissive young woman (Vicky Krieps) is a premise with promise, promise that carries through the first third of the film. After that, though, despite the lavish sets and costumes, despite the unsettling yet alluring score by Johnny Greenwood, despite giving the film a second chance (which ended with me shutting it off halfway through) Phantom Thread ends up becoming a tedious chore as it plods from one scene to the next, becoming stale as it remains in a stasis as its characters and subject matter never really amount to much, nor do they really go much of anywhere, and when they do, it’s not enough to regain my interest. I think worst of all with Phantom Thread is a lackluster performance from the incredible Day-Lewis, in his final performance (in all fairness, his abilities as an actor peaked with There Will be Blood). Maybe one day I’ll see Phantom Thread that will ignite the love that I want to give this movie, but for now, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say “so what?”

WINTER’S BONE (2010, dir. Debra Granik)

I can understand the appeal of Winter’s Bone, Debra Granik’s landmark sophomore effort: the world it inhabits is flawlessly realized, being a section of rural blue-collar America with a curious hue of the post-apocalyptic. Most of all, though, this was the film that put the talents of one Jennifer Lawrence on the map, playing a young woman desperately searching for her father with the weight of her family’s welfare on her back. Like I said, there are remarkable elements exhibited in Winter’s Bone, but I was only to appreciate it from a distance. Not once did I feel truly captivated by the drama at hand, leaving the film rather lukewarm. This isn’t uncommon for me with indie films, but the praise that Winter’s Bone got in 2010 (and continues to get) is impossible to ignore, and it just kind of baffles me for something that feels like yet another indie film, albeit one with something more to offer. It’s nothing too special at the end of the day, but eight years later saw the release of Granik’s absolutely incredible follow-up, Leave No Trace.

YOUR NAME. (2016, dir. Makoto Shinkai)

Your Name. went on to break box office records for Japanese anime, and I admit that this movie does not go without its charms: the animation is absolutely gorgeous (my mouth was agape a few times from its quality), the romance is quite sweet, there are plenty of heartwarming & cute moments, and the concept is certainly unique and dare I say ambitious in its story of a boy and a girl linked together through ways that transcend time & space (quite literally). If only the script was ironed out, because throughout Your Name., despite its charms, is a clunky mess of a narrative, with none of its world’s rules or functions explained concisely, and it becomes a hell of a head-scratcher, and for a film that has apparently joined the ranks of great anime next to Akira and Spirited Away, I would expect something more cohesive. In all fairness, I’ve heard that a lot of the viewer’s understanding of the mind-bending story depends on whether they’re watching the sub or the dub version (I can’t remember which I watched). Regardless, I can’t say I think Your Name. is a great film, but I can say I still enjoyed it to an extent.