I remember there was a moment–probably when Marky Mark calls his wife on his satellite phone from the Iraqi bunker [in Three Kings], or maybe it was in The Limey or The Insider or Fight Club–when I felt like movies had changed, that the artists had figured out the new machines & everything would be different from then on. Turns out that’s not really the case, but it was a great year. The one on that list that keeps getting better for me is Topsy-Turvy, which has climbed into the all-time pantheon.
What is about ‘9 years and the movies? ’89 was similarly remarkable, or at least felt so at the time (Do the Right Thing, sex, lies, and videotape, Drugstore Cowboy, Heathers…), and then there’s the legendary ’39. No time to do the research on the others right now…
I did think Sexy Beast was the best movie of whatever year it came out (it was a slow year) but I think that’s 90% based on the good will generated by the opening scene–it didn’t so much lead to disappointment in the rest of the movie as an undercurrent of strangeness that, along with Kingsley, kept the rest of the movie afloat (at least the first time around–I’ve not been back yet).
Yep, Topsy-Turvy is the cream of that crop. Surprisingly, I haven’t seen it but for the one time, when it slew me. Terry, too–I was there to see. But Bridget Jones’s Diary was on cable the other day, reminding me that I always mean to rout around more thoroughly in the ouevre of Shirley Henderson (has anyone seen Wonderland?) and to watch Mark Darcy’s better half in action about a few hundred more times before I die.