2010 was quite the eventful year.
The Haiti Earthquake shook the world, the ‘Deep Water Horizon’ spilled millions of gallons worth of oil into the sea, and The Kings Speech beat out The Social Network for Best Picture
Me? I was a little kid, oblivious to such atrocities.
But a decade has since passed. That little irresponsible child has aged into a slightly less irresponsible teenager, and films have sufficiently overrun my life.
It’s been an eventful decade. Perhaps, not quite as monumental as Jiro Horikoshi’s 10 years in the sun but it’s been a significant decade nonetheless.
Some ‘core’ pictures during my decade of film has transcended mere entertainment and metamorphosed into cinematic works of art. Such films have taught me much wisdom on love, life and magic.
These are the 10 movies of last decade that have impressed me, touched me, awed me and left one hell of a visceral impact on me.
10. Roma (2018)
Alfonso Cuarón is an artist, and Roma is his canvas.
His trip down memory lane, delving back into his vague recollections as a child in 1970’s Mexico City proves to be a touching magnum-opus.
Roma is not a biopic of Cuarón’s childhood — the film is centred around Cleo and the affluent household she works in, and the trails and tribulations that follow — but his childhood memories are etched all over the film, all his fears, joys and sadness intact.
This labour of love, this stunning passion piece is an inaccessible yet beautiful work of art, akin to a painting drawn by an especially talented impressionist artist.
9. Kingsman : The Secret Service (2014)
Kingsman toys with ‘Bond’ in each and every aspect, and manages to outclass 007 with flying colours.
‘Manners Maketh Man’ is the new ‘Shaken, not stirred’. Colin Firth has taken the ‘king’ from The Kings Speech and carried all the mannerisms and gentleman lingo to become a Kingsman.
All the outlandish set pieces are here. All the spy shenanigans are present and Kingsman has not misplaced one single inch of coolness present in the Bond flicks.
But where Bond is often all-too engrossed in maintaining its trademark ‘style’, Kingsman diverts on a detour, on a quest to carry genuine heart.
It utilises the often dull, soulless ‘spy’ landscape to tell a story about a lost boy who grows to become the greatest gentleman the spy industry has seen.
His name is Unwin. Eggsy Unwin.
8. The Social Network (2010)
The Social Network awakens a buzz inside of me.
The buzz is born from the simply irresistible, infectious excitement this film harbours. It is entertainment to the highest octane with a plot that runs along at the highest treadmill speed.
From monologue to monologue. From sequence to sequence. The film operates as a rollercoaster, there are ups and downs and loop arounds. And when the ride comes to a halt, it’s all the more noticeable.
Fincher and Sorkin orchestrate every instrument and fine-tune them to utter perfection; add Trent Reznor to that ensemble and ‘perfection’ takes on a whole new meaning.
7. Black Swan (2010)
Bolstered by a tour-de-force performance from Natalie Portman, Black Swan is perhaps the most visceral descent into madness put on screen.
Aronofksy directs with both the characteristics of the black and white swan. One shot will be directed with flowing grace and the other with an erratic shake, illustrating the different characteristics of each swan and capturing both the beauty and horror of dance.
Before long, Aronofksy has bound us into a hypnotic lull. We can only watch as Nina spins, and spins and spins, unravelling themes of abuse, schizophrenia and the self-destructive strive for perfection until Nina has spiralled out of control.
Whiplash who?
6. The Wind Rises (2013)
An impeccably crafted, fiercely complex, poignant masterwork that carefully weaves through the life of Jiro Horikoshi and his creation of the Zero Fighter — a plane that would later kill millions in World War 2.
But Jiro’s Zero Fighter is shunned out of the spotlight. A lifetime’s creation is given nothing more than one fleeting scene, shown to be an inevitable, but disillusioned endgame.
Instead, The Wind Rises angles itself from a philosophical angle. What compels Jiro to create death machines? Imbued with a wiseness from the age-old Miyazaki, themes on the fragility of life are explored to a tee.
Jiro, in certain ways, mirrors Miyazaki. Both are tunnel-visioned, both had a loved one torn away from tuberculosis, and both were immensely, often detrimentally dedicated to their respective arts.
Perhaps this was why Miyazaki was so compelled to create this film. To make his final few works, as all great artists do, an all too knowing self-reflection on the life he’s had.
“The wind is Rising! We must try to live!”
5. The Shape of Water (2017)
Guillermo Del Toro embarks down the classic theme of love and moulds it into a shape that is abstract and unparalleled in artistic merit. The picture recaptures the essence of a childhood fairytale and utilises it to create something unspeakably original.
Desplait’s harrowingly magical score, Hawkin’s silent performance and Del Toro’s sincere direction all work in sound symphony to form something quite special.
Forget Snow White and Rapunzel; their commentary on love pales in comparison to the tale of Elisa and the Sea Monster, and the forces of evil that attempt to pry their unspoken bond apart.
4. Your Name. (2016)
Makato Shinkai’s undisputed masterpiece miraculously mixes his trademark, spell-binding animation with romance for a deliriously fantastic movie.
It’s a disorientating experience at first. Your Name begins as a particularly difficult puzzle. But once the film gains momentum, all the pieces fit together and it’s almost like a magic trick how flawlessly it all composes together.
Shinkai astonishingly grapples with an abstract feeling most filmmakers would struggle with and creates liquid gold substance. The feeling of longing. The sensation of coldness from the warmth that was once there. An endless longing for something — or someone.
Nothing more, nothing less, than a cathartic experience.
3. Arrival (2016)
Memory is a strange thing. Most films leave my mind after they’ve finished their rounds in my head, but Arrival is a strange oddity in which it has lingered long past its due-date.
Why is that? I can never pin it down to one factor.
Perhaps it is Max Richter’s stirring score that rings and echoes in my head as it guides us along through the cathartic last few minutes.
Perhaps it is Jóhann Jóhannsson’s otherworldly score, full of foreign noises that build up an atmosphere so mysterious it stimulates all your senses. Truly a beautiful piece of music. May he Rest In Peace.
Or maybe it’s simply pure awe at how the film twists and turns and builds upon a special story about invasion into one about the morality of choice and the all too troubling nature of knowledge.
It is emotional, intelligent and special.
2. Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood (2019)
Quentin pulls back from his bravado establised in Django Unchained and Inglorious Basterds to make his sagacious, personal love letter to Hollywood.
Taratino permeates old Hollywood with a healthy dose of ‘coolness’. It’s reminiscent of a place once jam-packed with an unadulterated mood.
While critics have been quick to denounce Quentin’s ‘aimless’ direction, as a director nearing his final picture, Taratino has learnt that his simple, conventional plotting doesn’t always equate to greatness. Sometimes his films work best when they simply drift around, soaking in the environment.
But don’t be mistaken, he rules the film from afar with an iron first. It feels like an impeccably good time — until it’s not. The tension slowly ratchets up, counting down the days to that fateful night.
We can only hope the characters we rode along with can rewrite history and begin the ‘Once Upon a Time’.
1. Call Me By Your Name (2016)
Love is rarely a feeling that can be expressed in words. It’s something so abstract and special that language rarely suffices to communicate it.
Somewhere in Italy, first love is blooming between precocious Elio and the all-the-wiser Oliver. It’s captured through the lens of a masterful director, who renders ‘love’ down to the smallest of glances at one another and the vaguest of dialogue.
Is it better to speak or die? Watching the unspoken love grow is a poem in action. Small glances turn into longing looks. Vague dialogue grows brave enough to be blunt and a raging flame is born.
Soon, Elio will look into those flames with tears. But despite the winter that has overtaken that revitalising summer, Elio will always manage to find that warmth somewhere.
Call Me by Your Name is Luca Guadagnino’s triumph. Sophisticated, sensitive and awakening. Cinematic perfection.
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