The Year 2001: Moulin Rouge! (Baz Luhrmann)

The final part to his 'red curtain' trilogy, following on from the international success of Strictly Ballroom (1992) and Romeo + Juliet (1996), Baz Luhrmann, not one to take subtle road when big, bold and brassy will do, takes it one step further with the stunning visual feast, fanatically edited and beautifully photographed, a throughly modern take on the musical, Moulin Rouge! Once again we're joined by Reel Whore, of Reel Whore, 'cinema's bitch', a great writer to boot, with posts full of acid barbs, in your face humour all marked with a unique and insightful look at the world of cinema, makes a case for this 'exhilarating' film and wonders why it was overlooked at the Academy Awards.

A recent advert for the DVD release of Slumdog Millionaire touts it as the best film of the decade. I couldn't help but laugh when I read this. Have people forgotten about Moulin Rouge!?

Slumdog Millionaire and Moulin Rouge! have similar roots; both projects' directors were inspired by Bollywood films. However, while Millionaire was the Academy darling this past year, winning eight of its ten nominations, Moulin Rouge! was widely snubbed, winning only Best Costume Design and Best Art Direction from its eight nominations. Baz Luhrmann (Romeo + Juliet) wasn't even nominated for Best Director! Could it be Rouge! is the inferior, less entertaining of the two?

I think not. The exclamation point in the title says it all; expect excitement. On the day I saw Moulin Rouge! in theaters, many audience members were not prepared. I know this because I watched at least four people leave before the Diamond Dogs began to can-can. When friends asked my opinion of Moulin Rouge!, I made it clear that it was awesome, but you had to give it at least fifteen minutes to adjust to the frantic pacing and wild cinematography.


Before I get too far ahead of myself, Moulin Rouge! is the tale of Christian (Ewan McGregor, Big Fish), a young British writer who moves to Paris at the turn of the nineteenth century to embrace the Bohemian lifestyle. Shortly after arriving, Christian meets the dwarf Toulouse-Lautrec (John Leguizamo, Spawn) who is developing a new play with his Bohemian friends for the Moulin Rouge's owner Harold Zidler (Jim Broadbent, Gangs of New York). Christian and his mad writing skills are quickly accepted into the group and he is presented to the Rouge's star, Satine (Nicole Kidman, To Die For), to secure her favor for their play. Only problem is Satine mistakes Christian for the Rouge's potential financier, the Duke (Richard Roxburgh, Van Helsing). Ultimately Satine must seduce the Duke, while keeping her burgeoning romance with Christian a secret.

Once Christian and Lautrec meet, there is barely a moment's pause in the singing. Beginning with music from the Sound of Music flowing to the popular cover of Lady Marmalade and culminating in my favorite scene, a medley of love songs atop an Elephant's head, it's nearly forty-five minutes before the film returns to a standard story format. In Moulin Rouge! you find popular songs from artists such as David Bowie, Madonna and Nirvana in mash-ups against seemingly contrary songs, sampled as part of a larger medley, or used in their entirety to particularly comic effect. You might think the result would be irritating, but it's quite captivating. The music of Moulin Rouge! grabbed me in such a way that I snatched up the soundtrack the first chance I got and still give it a listen every couple of months. Until researching this post, I never knew they released a Volume Two. Needless to say, I will cop that tout de suite.


The rousing music is barely even the half of it. Colors jump off the screen. Deep reds, cool blues, neon greens and pale whites are so crisp they crackle. When the doors to the Moulin Rouge first open, a swirling, dizzying flurry of vibrant costumes and leering faces assaults the eyes; Luhrmann uses the visual overstimulation to mimic Christian's perspective on his virgin voyage to the cabaret.

If the music and imagery don't excite you, gazing upon Ewan McGregor will topple your defenses. His boyish smile and adamant belief in the love that he and Satine share is irresistible. You can feel McGregor giving it his all in every scene. Kidman is equally impressive. In fact, from Broadbent's boisterous showmanship to Leguizamo's absinthe-tinged lisp and Roxburgh's nasally tantrums, all the actors deliver scene after hilarious scene. Like Luhrmann's visuals, they can turn on a dime to deliver the most heart-wrenching and dismal moments, changing the playful nature of Rouge! into a rueful affair.


Outstanding music and exhilarating visuals presented by some of the most talented actors--you couldn't ask for anything more. Bollywood films are designed to give audiences their money's worth and Luhrmann does exactly that with Moulin Rouge!.

The Year 2001: Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch)

Ranked amongst his finest work, David Lynch's critically acclaimed neo-noir/mystery/psychological thriller/surrealist - whatever you want to label it, you would be hard pressed to find an equal in the year 2001 - had audiences totally puzzled but exhilarated with its nightmarish take on the Hollywood-on-Hollywood movie. Tony Dayoub of Cinema Viewfinder; his excellent film blog that manages to mix reviews and posts on world cinema, established classics, independent film and popular culture with relative ease, check out his latest, excellent Star Trek podcasts for a great example of his versatility, tracks the history of this marvellous film, which started life as a 'TV pilot for ABC' before transcending into 'one of the best films of the decade'.

David Lynch's Mulholland Drive began life as a TV pilot for ABC, the same network which aired Twin Peaks - Lynch's greatest mainstream success. It would be interesting to see how each show would fare in today's television landscape, one where serialized shows like Lost have succeeded, in part because ratings expectations are much lower and cable's serials lead the pack in competing for viewers' attention. In any case, the TV network was not ready for a mysterious drama set in Los Angeles where the central MacGuffin was two women's search for one's forgotten identity. So Lynch did something similar to what he did for the European theatrical release of the Twin Peaks pilot. He fashioned a lengthy ending, tying up the open-ended plotline, and got the rights to release the film theatrically.


Naomi Watts plays Betty, a stereotypical Midwestern woman who moves to Hollywood to become an actress. Naive and overeager, she is determined to prove herself in the corrupt industry town. Meanwhile, a woman receives a head injury in a car accident on Mulholland Drive. Dazed, she finds her way into the apartment that Betty is moving into.


Betty runs across the enigmatic accident victim in her very own shower, a woman struggling to remember her identity who starts calling herself Rita (Laura Elena Harring) after spotting a poster of Gilda in Betty's apartment.


Subplots and seemingly unrelated characters intrude on the central plot. No doubt these were to be coherent subplots on the prospective TV series. One such storyline involves rising movie director, Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), whose luck turns for the worse after being threatened by two heavies seeking to cast one Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George) as the star of his next picture. These plots would have continued and tied in to the main story had Mulholland Drive gone to series. Instead, Lynch uses them to fold the movie in on itself, tying Camilla and Adam to Rita in the film's climax, bringing up questions of identity and reality versus surreality, themes that recur often within Lynch's work, but are distilled here to their purest form.


One can almost see the invisible line that Lynch draws at the point where Mulholland Drive departs from its relatively conventional TV origins to the surreal realm in which he frequently wanders. It is about an hour and a half in when the movie metamorphoses from a neo-noir Nancy Drew to a haunting exploration of the obsessive ardor Diane Selwyn (Naomi Watts again) feels for Camilla Rhodes (Laura Elena Harring again).


Diane awakes into a nightmare of a life, as if the first part of the film was a desperate dream formed by her fragile mind to put things right in her sad existence. Whereas Betty and Rita make love after bonding over the mystery of Rita's identity, Camilla rebuffs Diane, choosing director Adam instead. The promise Betty displayed as an actress in the first part has evaporated, with Adam giving the lead role in his film to Camilla rather than Diane.


Identities transmute into new ones. The real merges with the surreal in the most necessary way yet for a Lynch film. The director even finds moments to comment on the part he plays as a master of ceremonies in these proceedings, as evoked by the stage magician that helps usher in the tonal shift at the point of departure in the film.


Consciously or not, Lynch refers to other works of his including those that have yet to be: once, when he enlists Rebekah Del Rio to sing her version of Orbison's "Crying" (Blue Velvet's iconic scene where Dean Stockwell mimes to Orbison's "In Dreams"); once again, when the electrical surges of the magic show help to transmogrify Betty into Diane (Lost Highway, Twin Peaks); and finally, when the actress' descent into madness foreshadows the insanity of Nikki Grace (Laura Dern) in Inland Empire (2006).


Mulholland Drive is the apotheosis of Lynch's filmography, transcending its humble TV beginnings to become one of the best films of the decade.

The Year 2001: The Royal Tenenbaums (Wes Anderson)

At once richly ironic, blackly comic and daubed in pathos, The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson's star-studded packed indie hit, charts the life and times of a once gifted trio of siblings, deserted by their wayward father who returns to the family nucleus to make amends for transgressions past. A wry, knowing and beautifully shot film, Pat Piper of the formidable Lazy Eye Theatre; his irreverent, on the nose film blog, full of left-field insights on the workings of film and wickedly funny posts, takes a, typically, side glance at the wonder of this film by concentrating on 'the anti-hero of the year 2001', Royal Tenenbaum, in this brilliant piece for Counting Down The Zeroes.

When I originally saw The Royal Tenenbaums in the theater, I wouldn't say I was impressed by it. That's to say it didn't play to my expectations. I loved Rushmore for its eccentricities and for the strange camaraderie between Blume and Fischer. But truth to tell, Rushmore is easy to like. Its quirk plays to a larger audience. So I suppose I was expecting more of the same with The Royal Tenenbaums. At the time, I should have praised Wes Anderson for not digging into the same bag, but instead I criticized him for it.

Upon further viewings, I have come to love this film. I have said it before, and I will say it again - The Royal Tenenbaums is as close to a piece of art on film as I have ever seen. Every scene is perfectly framed. Every movement, perfectly choreographed. Every line, perfectly delivered. There are so many things to write about this film. I could do a weeks worth of material, but I'll spare you all from that. Ric at Film For The Soul has told me that for Counting Down The Zeros, I have carte blanche which may or may not be a good thing. So instead of writing a traditional review, I'm instead going to write about my favorite character of the film, Royal Tenenbuam.


Royal Tenenbaum is a piece of work. At one moment repulsive, the next touchingly sweet. Royal calls them as he sees them, and does so with the tact of a five year old. One can stand around and debate whether Royal is an asshole or simply just a son-of-a-bitch for hours. The evidence is certainly there. But then you'd miss the fact that he is the glue of the Tenenbaums. As dysfunctional as all of them are, they are less so when Royal is around.

After being separated from his wife and family for several years, Royal attempts to get back into the family fold by faking stomach cancer. It's a shrewd ploy, but it plays off the universal truth that crisis brings us together. Crisis makes us forgive and forget. But there's a lot of forgiving and forgetting to be done and Royal hasn't given himself much time.


One can always question Royals intentions. Does he still love Etheline? Does he even love his children? The story plays as if Royal is attempting to redeem himself. To ask forgiveness. His disease is fake, but Royal truly acts as if he has one last shot to make things right. Only times are different. The children are grown up and they are facing real-life problems. Richie's suicide. Chas' inability to deal with the death of his wife. Margot's attachment issues. Even Eli's drug addiction. But like all anti-heroes, Royal falls into each situation and rises to the occasion.

What makes Royal so amicable is that he's played by Gene Hackman. It's hard to imagine anyone else playing this character, which goes to show how perfect Hackman made it. Played by a lesser, this could have been a disaster. All asshole and no heart. There is a struggle within Royal of wanting to do bad, but trying to do good and Hackman always keeps a good balance without tipping one way or the other. Hackman does just enough to show that Royal is redeemable without going overboard. There's an exchange between Royal and Richie towards the end of the movie. When Royal tells him that this near death experience has given him a new lease on life, Richie reminds him that he's not dying. Royal's response to this is "but I'm going to live." It's a great line not only for its humor, but for the volumes it says about the character. And Hackman delivers it with a kind of glee that makes you love the character, even when he's bullshitting you. And there's another line around the same time. Royal says "the past six days have been the best six days of probably my whole life." The narrator then follows with "immediately after making this statement, Royal realized that it was true." Even without the narration, you believe Royal because Hackman's performance makes it true.


As much of a character as Royal might be, he's still a real person, facing real problems. Take away all his quirks, and he's just a guy looking for redemption. It's a universal message and what I think is interesting is the way Wes Anderson has spun it. There are those who believe that some things can never be mended. That if you let the problems go too long, the pain becomes too deep. Yet, the story of Royal and the Tenenbaums tells us that it's never too late. That love comes in many forms and that love is unconditional. And because of that even the worst characters are redeemable. Even Royal.

The Year 2001: Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson)

There's no doubting the movie event of the year 2001, taking an extraordinary amount of time, talent and money to bring it to the screen, Peter Jackson's first chapter of the world renowned fantasy epic Lord of the Rings - all three parts were incidentally filmed back to back - The Fellowship of the Ring became a huge box-office success and upped the ante when it came to event cinema. Once again we're joined by the awesome J.D of Radiator Heaven, who we must congratulate for receiving a Lammy nomination for best reviewer, and no wonder considering this great submission to Counting Down The Zeroes, in which J.D marks this film as one of those rare things, a film 'that lives up to its mountains of hype'.

It was the film many thought would never happen and that languished in development hell for years, bouncing from studio to studio until New Line Cinema took a very big gamble with filmmaker Peter Jackson who, at that point in his career, was known for making slapsticky low budget horror films (Braindead) and had one art house hit (Heavenly Creatures). He wasn’t someone you would necessarily entrust millions upon millions of dollars on making a trilogy of fantasy films – not the most commercially successful genre (Willow, anyone?). Jackson was also tackling the much-beloved series of books by J.R.R. Tolkien, get it wrong and you’re going to have legions of very unhappy fans.

However, Jackson was a fan too and he had a vision, which, with the help of his co-screenwriters Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens, and army of collaborators, brought The Lord of the Rings vividly to life. The first film, The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), was a massive critical and commercial success and would be followed by two even more successful sequels, The Two Towers (2002) and The Return of the King (2003). Everyone has their favorite film of the trilogy and for me it’s the first one because it has an intimate feel rendered on an epic scale, if that makes any sense. In other words, The Fellowship of the Ring is about a small group of characters, the Fellowship, and the journey they undertake.


Jackson establishes this intimacy early on with Bilbo Baggins’ (Ian Holm) birthday celebration. The Special Extended Edition DVD version takes its time introducing the hobbits and their world. Jackson uses warm, inviting colors and folksy music to convey that the hobbits are friendly, down-to-earth people who live in a tight-knit community where everyone knows each other. Most importantly, we are introduced to Frodo (Elijah Wood), the hero of this epic tale. For it is he who Bilbo entrusts with the last remaining Ring that he must to take Mordor to destroy so that it doesn’t fall into the hands of the evil Sauron.

The Shire sequences also establish the dangerously seductive lure of the Ring, the origins of the quest and the creation of the Fellowship as led by the mighty wizard Gandalf the Grey (Ian McKellen). Aside from Frodo, fellow hobbits Sam (Sean Astin), Merry (Dominic Monaghan) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) join him on his journey. The group starts simply enough and over the course of the film others join their ranks, including Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), a human ranger, Legolas (Orlando Bloom), an elvan archer, Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), a grumpy dwarf, and Boromir (Sean Bean), a human fighter. At heart of the Fellowship (and really all three films) is the friendship between Frodo and Sam. It is Sam who looks out for Frodo and sticks with him for the entire quest.


There are all kinds of parallels, story structure-wise, between The Fellowship of the Ring and Star Wars: A New Hope (1977). The Tolkien books were an obvious influence on George Lucas’ films. The main characters from both films are plucked from obscurity, a remote rural environment to go on a dangerous quest and are mentored by an elderly wizard type. Hell, Han Solo and Aragorn are characters cut from the same cloth and are both given cool introductions to establish their respective badass reputations.

Jackson manages to get some career-best performances out of many cast members. Elijah Wood, Sean Astin and Orlando Bloom, in particular, have never done anything better since (or before for that matter, except maybe for Wood and his chilling turn in Sin City) and this film launched a series of very eclectic leading man roles for the always watchable Viggo Mortensen (it doesn’t get more diverse than disparate roles in Hidalgo and Eastern Promises). Both Ian McKellen and Christopher Lee give the film some serious class and loads of genre credibility. It is Wood and Astin that anchor this film and give its heart. The relationship between their two characters epitomizes most noble aspects of friendship and of the Fellowship. This only deepens in subsequent installments.


Once our heroes begin their journey, Jackson establishes a riveting urgency as they are pursued by the nightmarish ringwraiths and a vicious army of orcs. And yet this only strengthens the camaraderie among the hobbits and the rest of the Fellowship despite its dysfunction in the form of Boromir. However, when it matters and when faced with dangerous opponents, they work as a team as evident in the exciting and visceral battle against a monster in Balin’s Tomb and the even grittier battle against the orcs at the film’s climax.

Contrary to popular belief, Peter Jackson did not have a lifelong ambition to adapt Tolkien’s books into films. Producer Saul Zaentz owned the film rights for years and gave them to Jackson when he and Fran Walsh met with him and expressed their passion for the project. Zaentz sold the rights to Miramax who wanted to make only one film with Jackson. Disney was the financial backer but they didn’t believe in the project, refusing to give Miramax the money to make it. Harvey Weinstein, head of Miramax, gave Jackson three weeks to find someone else to make the film and in 1998, New Line agreed to make it into three films. Jackson originally proposed two films but it was New Line’s idea to make three.


In order to cut down on costs, Jackson decided to film all three films back-to-back over a grueling 274-day shooting schedule on location in remote areas of New Zealand in more than 100 locations with 20 major speaking roles and 20,000 extras. At the height or production, the film crew swelled to 1,300 people with seven units shooting multiple elements simultaneously. Jackson and company were at the mercy of New Zealand’s notoriously mercurial weather – unseasonal snowstorms and overnight flooding but in the end, the filmmakers accomplished what they set out to do and the proof is in the impressive final results.

The Fellowship of the Ring broke the opening day record for a December film on Wednesday, earning $18.2 million. It went on to make $314.7 million in North America and $555.9 million in the rest of the world for a worldwide total of $870.7 million.


The Fellowship of the Ring received overwhelmingly positive notices from most of the major film critics. Roger Ebert gave the film three out of four stars and wrote, "Peter Jackson ... has made a work for, and of, our times. It will be embraced, I suspect, by many Tolkien fans and take on aspects of a cult. It is a candidate for many Oscars. It is an awesome production in its daring and breadth, and there are small touches that are just right.” USA Today also gave the film three out of four stars and wrote, "this movie version of a beloved book should please devotees as well as the uninitiated." In his review for The New York Times, Elvis Mitchell wrote, "The playful spookiness of Mr. Jackson's direction provides a lively, light touch, a gesture that doesn't normally come to mind when Tolkien's name is mentioned." Entertainment Weekly magazine gave the film an "A" rating and Lisa Schwarzbaum wrote, "The cast take to their roles with becoming modesty, certainly, but Jackson also makes it easy for them: His Fellowship flows, never lingering for the sake of admiring its own beauty ... Every detail of which engrossed me. I may have never turned a page of Tolkien, but I know enchantment when I see it." In her review for the Washington Post, Rita Kempley praised the cast, in particular, "Mortensen, as Strider, is a revelation, not to mention downright gorgeous. And McKellen, carrying the burden of thousands of years' worth of the fight against evil, is positively Merlinesque." Finally, Time magazine's Richard Corliss praised Jackson's work: "His movie achieves what the best fairy tales do: the creation of an alternate world, plausible and persuasive, where the young — and not only the young — can lose themselves. And perhaps, in identifying with the little Hobbit that could, find their better selves.”

The Fellowship of the Ring is one of those rare films that live up to its mountains of hype. Jackson tells an engaging story and crams as much of the source material as possible into the film. Sure, certain characters and subplots have been cut-out but that is the nature of a feature film adaptation. Maybe some day someone can turn it into a mini-series so that everything can be included. Until then, we have Jackson’s magnificent films to enjoy.

The Year 2001: Waking Life (Richard Linklater)

Definitely one of 2001's most innovative films, Richard Linklater's Waking Life, used live flesh and blood actors, edited and completed the film as per the norm and then, and this is the seller, stuck animated images, a sort of hi-tech tracing technique, over the footage, leaving a dreamy, trippy rotoscoped movie, the likes of which play tricks with your eyes and your head in equal measure. Shawn Braley of Deadpan, a great writer whose passion and knowledge of film belies his young age, takes on 'the risk taker' director and and hails a film that 'you wish you had more time with' in this brilliant submission to Counting Down The Zeroes.

“Dream is destiny”

So often are films made to entertain, whether it is for the broadest possible audience or for the smallest niche. So often are the first thoughts behind the filmmakers intent is what can entertain, and then what does it mean to the story. While I would argue that Richard Linklater isn’t one of cinema’s most innovative directors by any means, I would say he is a risk taker. He takes major risks by not giving in to formula, and making a film that is right for the story he is creating.

In 2001, With Waking Life; Richard Linklater, took his usual dialogue fused shtick, and mixed it with a fresh new style that adds a much needed element. He places us into the mind of a character simply named Main Character. He doesn’t need a name, because he is all of us. This character is in a perpetual state of dreaming, constantly waking up to find out later he has yet to truly quit dreaming.


Following our Main Character, we go from person to person learning about free will, existentialism, self destruction, lucid dreaming, God, each other, and so many other topics all relating back to our dreams. What’s truly fascinating about Waking Life is its lack of a structure. The film has a nice bookend quality to it, but we don’t have three acts, we have two acts. One where the character is unaware of this dream state, and another where he becomes aware of it.

It is my thought that without interest in the philosophical or intellectual pitter patter of this script, you cannot enjoy it. This is simply due to the fact that often times the viewer is watching other people talking. If what they say is of no interest, than in the end, you will probably gain nothing from Waking Life. I happened to find a lot of what is said very fulfilling. Not only does the narrative discuss moral and ethical problems that our society faces today, but it does so without trying to provide some sort of answer. It simply allows the character to come in contact with all of this information, which is what we do throughout our own lives, and within our dreams that information seems to fish around and come back at us in some way or another.


Waking Life’s rotoscope animation isn’t anything exciting to look at really. This film could have been made without it and still be captivating. What the technique adds to it is that dream-like layer that would be hard to attain with a simple real world transfer. It was an interesting way for Linklater to play out his dream concept on screen.

Waking Life is mostly related to Linklater’s 1991 film Slacker, with its lack of a narrative and joy of intellectual conversation. And while Slacker grabs that early 90’s generation wonderfully, especially that particular group of people in Austin, Texas, it doesn’t seem to add up to much in the end. Waking Life however leaves the viewer wanting more by the time the credits are rolling, not because it needed any more story, but due to the fact that these characters are so engaging, and we get so little time with each of them. It is pretty rare that every character you come into contact with in a movie you wish you had more time with, but Waking Life is able to capture that quality to perfection. Linklater seems to know this and enjoys giving us little glimpses so we always want more.


So much more could be discussed about the different conversations they have, but discussing those discussions would simply ruin the experience of what Waking Life is, a myriad of intellectual curiosity placed within this lucid dream state.

The Year 2001: Artificial Intelligence: A.I (Steven Speilberg)

The infamous Kubrick/Speilberg hybrid, Artificial Intelligence, was initially greeted by something of a muted, almost disappointed, reception when released at the cinema in 2001, yet lately it's enjoying something of a reassessment and finally gaining some of the praise that fans believe is long overdue. Sam Juliano, of the equally infamous Wonders in the Dark; chapel to superlative defying film criticism, housing a host of wonderful writers that truly love and know their subject, please check out their attempt to list the greatest films of the decade, with help from you, the reader, ruminates over one of Speilberg's 'masterworks', a film 'of lasting and significant emotional resonance', and explains why it's his number one film of the year 2001.

The idea behind A.I. was originally conceived by Stanley Kubrick, who subsequently entrusted the proposed project to Steven Spielberg. When Kubrick died suddenly in 1999, his widow successfully persuaded Spielberg to assume complete artistic control of the film, including the direction. Set in a future time when progress in robotics poses a conceivable menace to the human species, David (Haley Joel Osment), a robotic boy, is the artificial life form who is capable of experiencing love. As a prototype, he is given to a couple whose real son is mired in what appears to be an irreversible coma. After a discordant initiation David and his mother bond, at which point the "real" son miraculously awakens from the coma, rejoins to the family, and tricks David into engaging in dangerous things. The father concludes that they must return the robotic boy to the manufacturer for destruction, but the mother arranges for his escape via abandonment. For the duration of the film David seeks to be reunited with his mother, and for a time is joined by "Gigolo Joe," a robot designed to function as a male prostitute. David becomes frozen I an the ocean, and millennia later--long after the extinction of the human species--robots of the future rescue him and allow him to reunite with his mother for one day that will last in his mind for eternity.


A.I. Artificial Intelligence, fueled by some profound philosophical themes and issues of motherhood, is arguably one of Spielberg's masterworks, and for this writer it ranks with Schindler's List, Empire of the Sun and E. T. on the short list of the director's greatest achievements in cinema. Like the other three, it is extraordinarily moving, and it paints yet again a piercingly provocative view of childhood and of the human condition, tinged with an overwhelming sense of sadness. The film is based on a short story by Brian Aldiss entitled "Supertoys Last All Summer Long," published in 1969, and it draws considerable influence from Disney's Pinocchio.

The setting is futuristic, and the narrative commences after a catastrophic global warming-induced flood that has ravaged the landscape and exacerbated population pressures. Couples are required to secure licenses to have children, and the technological advances have now reached the point where companies are producing mechanical humans that are veritable doppelgangers of the real children, even to the extent of expressing genuine affection. Children who are obedient and stay young forever is an ideal scenario for prospective parents. Of course the very concept that "human love" has been replaced by "machine love" serves as the ironic juxtaposition of a film that strives to portray hope, but instead in large measure presents a dire picture of family disintegration, and lost capacity to love. In effect, the film is made up of three distinct parts. In the first, David strives to assimilate in a human family, while in the second part we follow his adventures during his search, until finally in the third part, he confronts his dream. The first part is clearly the most psychological as it documents the struggle for affection. The second part above all showcases Spielberg's satire of American society in the context of David's discovery of the world around him, after he is stranded alone. David's abandonment suggests a 'saturation' of American consumer society where everything becomes disposable and interchangeable, once the trend is past.


The film's most omnipotent and wrenching scene may well be the aforementioned one where the mother abandons her son to the forest. To save him she had no alternative but to abandon him to survive on his own, as the father had threatened his dismantlement and destruction. The robotic boy's never-ending search for his mother of course mirrors the plethora of adopted, abandoned, lost and abused children in today's society who are enlisted in an eternal mission to find love, only to become entangled in harmful vices when it is unconsummated. Then there's a circus where robots are publicly sacrificed, reflecting a modern-day spectacle that's all the rage in America, where an ecstatic crowd contemplates gigantic robotic trucks that clash and are eventually destroyed. Gladiator, Kubrick's Spartacus and Spielberg's own Schindler's List are all recalled here.

In the film's final chapter David meets Gigolo Joe (Jude Law), a superman whose only apparent goal is to satisfy women. Recalling the show Sex in the City, Joe seems to be a direct reference to the increasingly significant phenomenon of unmarried and independent women who do not need men to survive. He brings the child to the red city, a town of a thousand lights where vice reigns in what is an obvious transposition of Las Vegas.


Ultimately, as per chronicled in the utterly arresting sequence near the end, the earth becomes mired in a deep freeze, which is brought about by a planetary collapse of climate. The subsequent melting of the Arctic ice sheets and submersion of the coastal cities ends a two-thousand year freeze, which 'reactivates' David and his stored memories of a human civilization that has long ago disappeared, but his quest for his mother and human love endures with the advanced computer life forms that have replaced humanity--shapeless, sexless, emotionless, yet with a degree of compassion, as they assist David in realizing his goal. The short passage visualizing this fleeting moment is one of the most beautiful codas in all of American cinema since the advent of the new millennium. The conclusion of A.I. hasn't pleased a number of critics and moviegoers, but it's in keeping with the film's myriad themes, which also includes the nature of existence, the responsibility mankind has to the sentient beings that it creates, and the issues that arise when man's technical reach extends beyond his moral grasp.

The film again demonstrates Spielberg's gift with young children, as Haley Joel Osment, shifting seamlessly between a cold machine, a child in love and a dangerously obsessed creature. Francis O'Connor, who plays his mother, effectively conveys the ambivalence of her feelings, while Jude Law as the gigolo shines in his extroverted mode.

Spielberg alumni, cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, composer John Williams and editor Michael Kahn all make major contributions to Spielberg's futuristic parable. Kaminski's elegiac canvasses are tinged with melancholy, and are perfectly accentuated by the bittersweet music. But it's a film that stays with you largely because of its philosophical themes, which in the end question the validity of eternal life, the fleeting nature of mortality and how the power of love can transcend centuries. It's a film of lasting and significant emotional resonance and it's my choice for the best movie of 2001.

The Year 2001: Hedwig and the Angry Itch (John Cameron Mitchell)

Already with a huge cult following in tow, John Cameron Mitchell adapted his co-written off-Broadway hit, Hedwig and the Angry Itch, about a fictional rock & roll band, fronted by a transgendered singer, hailing from Communist Berlin with dreams of becoming American superstars, to high critical acclaim and picked up a host of awards for his efforts. Joseph Belanger of Black Sheep Reviews; his well established, phenomenal, blog with a vast archive of excellent reviews and host of the fabulous Mouton D'Or Awards, recalls his reaction to this highly original film of 2001, in this great submission ot Counting Down The Zeroes, and recalls how totally stunned he was by the whole affair.

I can still remember how I felt after seeing HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH for the first time. It was raining but the only reason I noticed that was because I was wet when I got home. I didn’t feel a thing while I walked outside; I was far too stunned. What had I just seen? I certainly couldn’t say that I had ever seen a rock opera about a transsexual singer/songwriter from East Berlin who had a botched sex change operation and who had immigrated to America only to have all of her music ripped off by a pretty little white boy. The only reassuring thing about this state was that I was fairly certain no one else could say they had seen that before either.

Well, plenty of people had seen the Off-Broadway hit but that is still a pretty paltry faction of people. Yes, HEDWIG got its humble beginnings in New York City. It was written by John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask and the title character was performed by Mitchell himself. After the show concluded its run, Mitchell had bigger plans and bigger wigs in mind for both Hedwig and himself. He had never directed a film before but must have felt comfortable enough with this material to take that risk. The risk most certainly paid off and to watch Hedwig, you would never know he had never directed before. Mitchell took a play that was grand in scope but limited in size and eradicated any notion that it had to be contained on a stage. His direction of Hedwig goes from town to town following the former lover who stole all his songs while simultaneously moving back and forth between time and space to tell Hedwig’s incredible story. His performance of Hedwig earned him a Golden Globe nomination and to watch it, you cannot imagine anyone else filling those gigantic platforms.


Sure, it’s all a little jarring at first but then at ten minutes in, a song starts. An animation takes over the screen and tells the story of how love began. The song is called, “The Origin of Love” and the drawings are nothing more than stick figures shaking almost elegantly on parchment but it doesn’t matter. They capture exactly what the complex song is saying so simply. The song details how all of us were once connected with another. There were boys attached to other boys, girls with girls and even girls attached to other boys, if you can believe that. Until one day, the gods decided that too much fun was being had and split all of these perfect unions into halves that would then have to scour the world to find their counterparts. Before this moment, there was no need for love, to search for it, to crave it because it simply didn’t exist. Hedwig is not a man or a woman and certainly not whole. Her search is bold, empowered and unfailing … and will likely never be over.


I think its fair to say that there are still too few people who have seen anything like HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH and I think its fair to say, too few people ever will. Thanks to John Cameron Mitchell though, a select group of fortunate people can now fell a little more open minded and hopefully a little more whole.