If not for a rush of intelligent Oscar-bait in the second half of the year, 2013 would have been one of the worst years for film in recent memory—filled with sequels which were more obligatory than anticipated and high-profile snores. The year lacked any kind of cohesive character or true risks, until the daring shock of 12 Years a Slave rocked the cinema out of its complacency. After that, things began to gel. We got one of the most resonant action blockbusters in years, David O. Russell playing at being Scorsese and Marty showing him how it’s really done, and Spike Jonze once again revealing the fragile core of modern life.

American Hustle is one of those movies where you walk out of the theater unsure as to whether or not you really, truly liked what you just saw.  You need time to digest it, to sift through what just happened.  I’m not saying it’s a thinking man’s movie (which is a stupid phrase anyways), but it is a movie that makes you think.

I've written before about the 2013 summer movie season as being a bit on the unremarkable side for me. As I think about the past twelve months strictly in terms of the movies that were released in that period, a general feeling of disappointment can be pretty easily applied to all 12 months. That’s not to say the 2013 summer movie season was a letdown from bell to bell. Nor would I say that about the overall year. It’s just that as I think about the movies that came out this year, it feels as though coming up with even ten truly great films is a little too much of a stretch.
 

I love 2003’s Oldboy, the original Korean film directed by Chan-Wook Park.  The entire ‘vengeance trilogy’ is a favorite of mine.  I own the original film and have seen it multiple times.  It always struck me as a very well done mystery with a very, very thick sense of realism.  It never seemed Hollywood to me.  The action scenes were gritty and realistic (as realistic as a hammer fight in a hallway can be).  The characters acted and reacted naturally.  It was at times confusing, mysterious, and strange yet it was always compelling.  It’s the sort of film that can be viewed multiple times and still be amazing.

Everything Lynch wrote and directed before making Mulholland Drive was bringing him to this masterpiece. The film combines all of Lynch’s positive attributes and none of his negative ones. Gone are nonsensical, abstract sequences, gone are inappropriate shifts of tone such as in Wild at Heart, gone is the occasional silliness from Twin Peaks, and gone is the frustration found at times in Eraserhead and Lost Highway.

A month ago I went to see a film and there was a gentleman who sat a few seats away from me in the same row.  To this day I’m not sure if he was slightly disturbed or just had poor social skills, but he laughed at all the wrong moments, made strange sounds, and tried to talk to the people around him.  I wasn’t quite annoyed, since if the young man did have mental issues then it’s not right to judge him for it.   But I can honestly admit that I wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the situation.

Nearly two hours into 12 Years a Slave we finally got to the most horrific, gut-wrenching scene.  After two hours of being emotionally exhausted, three adults gave up and left the theater, no longer able to handle what they were seeing.  Moments later a woman got up with her two children, the oldest of whom couldn’t have been over 10.  The first thought I had was “what sort of fucking idiot brings their kids to a movie this brutal?”  My second thought was “how the fuck did they make it this far?”