The Asphalt Jungle

The Best of the Decade - #8

March 9th, 2010 by Raj Ranade

2007 was a very good year.

Fareed:

Zodiac (dir. by David Fincher): 2007 was a landmark year for American cinema as several established auteurs provided memorably dark visions of a nation mired by fear and twisted ideals.  While both “There Will Be Blood “ and “No Country for Old Men” went on to Oscar glory, another superb tale about the country’s dark side was largely ignored – David Fincher’s “Zodiac.” That so many critics have gone on to place the former two films on their “Best of the Decade” lists at the expense of the latter, is a real crime. Fincher’s neo-noir is a stunning exploration of the damaging potential of obsession, a pitch perfect example of cinematic restraint, and a testament to how the genre can illuminate contemporary cultural anxiety. In short, “Zodiac” is the best pure noir of the last decade and a film that should not be forgotten.

The film opens with the serial murderer’s first attributed murder which occurred on the night of July 4, 1969, a date that forces the audience to consider the Zodiac tale as a fundamentally American one.  His arrival on the scene is foreshadowed by the fireworks that light up the night sky above San Francisco Bay.  The visual dissonance between the darkness and the bursts of flame as well as the aural one of the silence against the repeated thunder of the explosions slyly defines the Zodiac as a disruptive force who will soon throw the lives of everyday Americans into chaos. The opening shot of July 4th evening speaks to the aesthetic success of the film where Fincher reigns in his signature stylish excess. His restraint allows the more visually complex moments in the police procedural, peppered throughout the production, to resonate on a deep visceral and symbolic level.

Fincher’s coolly confident tour-de-force executes a far grander ambition to frame the fears of today’s America. With its Osama bin Laden-like antagonist, “Zodiac” stands as a damning indictment of an impotent administration incapable of finding its enemy.  This film exemplifies how the neo-noir of today serves as a window into the troubled subconscious of the American mind.  It uncovers the truth lying in the dark alleyways of the nation’s psyche with such vehemence that it pistol whips audiences, forcing them to wake up and face the grim American existence.

Raj:

No Country for Old Men (dir. by Joel and Ethan Coen): Twenty-three years after they broke through with their brutal Texas noir “Blood Simple”,  Joel and Ethan Coen returned to those same arid, sun-blasted landscapes to make the best film of their career.  As a thriller, “No Country for Old Men” is as accomplished as any film this decade, but the ambition of the Coens extends far beyond simple genre thrills – “No Country for Old Men” is a film with all the force of Greek tragedy in its exploration of eternal violence and hubris, as well as a fascinating exercise in the subversion of cinematic form.

That the film succeeds on so many levels is a tribute to the craft of the Coens, which is nothing short of searing and indelible. Working with the spare, skeletal prose of Cormac McCarthy’s novel, the Coens fashion a film that similarly builds powerful meaning out of keenly observed detail.  Few thrillers that bound along at the pace of “Country” would take time to exhibit details like frantic scuff-marks from the boots of a strangling victim, the condensation on a bottle of milk left out, or the dead dogs found at the aftermath of a drug deal, but the film builds incredible power through the accretion of such apocalyptic detail. The film initially seems like a masterful example of total Hitchcockian control – particularly in the brutally tense suspense set-pieces like the hotel showdown – which is why the film’s famously ambiguous and elliptical ending is such a tremendously effective shock.

The true weight of the ending comes from the existential torment the Coens wreak upon their affectionately-drawn characters, embodied by the best ensemble the Coens have worked with since “The Big Lebowski”. Josh Brolin deservedly was launched into a major career after his restrained but thoroughly charming portrayal of the morally ambiguous Llewelyn Moss, and Javier Bardem deservedly took home an Oscar for his embodiment of implacable, callous chaos. It’s Tommy Lee Jones’ underrated performance that is the soul of the movie, however, and his final monologue is a triumph – a beautiful verbal coda that is the perfect grace note to this visual masterwork that is a terrifying look into the dark soul of man.

Entry Filed under: Best of the 2000s