the year that was ...

Where did the lazy, cozy, red-wine-soaked winters of yore go? So far this has been a frantic, angry-badger-faced season for me, which means I've only now caught up on last year's films. Here's my list of 2010's best:

1. Winter's Bone

Call it Ozark noir. Jennifer Lawrence stars as a ceaselessly determined teenager who must hunt down her meth-cooking father to keep her family together. As she portrays this search through backwoods Appalachia, writer/director Debra Granik captures her subject and setting with a documentarian's eye. It's atmospheric, moody, and riveting. Lawrence, who played a similarly precocious and world-weary teenager in The Burning Plain, makes her character's pluck endearing and believable, while Dale Dickey and John Hawkes offer indelible portraits of not-entirely-unsympathetic figures entangled in the meth business.

2. Black Swan

Sure, I can handily buy all the "it's about the artistic process" arguments, but for me, this is a blood-soaked psychological thriller, as gleefully over the top as Carrie or Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Darren Aronofsky has never been one for subtlety, and thank goodness. Natalie Portman has never been better as a ballerina losing grips on reality (she relishes the stage like Elizabeth Berkeley did the stripper pole in Showgirls ... that's not a knock). Barbara Hershey and Vincent Cassel haven't gotten the praise they deserve as Portman's manipulative mother and director, respectively.

3. Somewhere

Sometimes I think about what it must be like to be Sofia Coppola.

"But Daddy, I want to make a costume drama!"

"When I was in the front row at the Anna Sui show ..."

"I loved that song 1901, off my husband's last album."

It's easy to hate on Coppola, but perhaps that's because we all wish we were hollywood progeny, fashion icons, and indie rock wives. Also, that we could write delicate, minimalist screenplays and bring them to the screen with grace and visual splendor. That's just what Coppola's done with Somewhere, her best film since Lost in Translation (the less said about Marie Antoinette the better). It's easily her most minimal, defined by dialogue-less scenes, a rudderless narrative flow, and relationships are implied rather than stated. I love the ambiguity as well as apathy for traditional narrative propulsion. Stephen Dorff stars as a disenchanted hollywood star living in the famed, decadent Chateau Marmont. Elle Fanning (she of the Dakota Fannings) is his charming, precocious daughter. They interact, disconnect, go to Milan. Their relationship -- and Dorff's lack of relationships with everyone -- feels quintessentially LA. It reminds me of the line from Less Than Zero, "People are afraid to merge."

4. White Material

I've written about Claire Denis' brilliant examination of post-colonialism before, so I'll keep it brief. Isabelle Huppert (always great) is the steely operator of a coffee farm in a crumbling African nation. It's abstract, non-traditional, haunting.

5. I Am Love

It had me at hello. A snow-blanketed Milan, John Adams' lavish score, and vintage credits. A fitting start to an opulent send-up to old style melodrama. Tilda Swinton (who else?) stars as a the matriarch of a dynastic Italian clan. Betrayal, dueling loyalties, clandestine love. It's all there. The soap opera is fun, but the technical marvels are the reasons to stay - costumes to die for and the most appetizing prawn I've ever seen.

6. Animal Kingdom

When his mother overdoses, a teen is forced to move in with his only family -- a notorious gang of bank robbers. Similar to this year's The Town, it's a fairly traditional crime film that explores loyalty, honor and family. The white trash Australian setting is fascinating and Jackie Weaver deserves all the praise she's receiving as the motley crew's duplicitous matriarch.

7. The Social Network

Yeah, it's been overpraised. Which is too bad, because there's now a bit of a backlash against this witty, insightful look at flawed ambition and social alienation. Few directors working today possess David Fincher's skill and precision, and when paired with Aaron Sorkin's rapid-fire dialogue (so good it warrants comparison to Preston Sturges), it's hard to beat. The opening confrontation between Jesse Eisenberg and Rooney Mara could easily be one of the best first scenes ever, and contains my favorite line of the year, "Dating you is like dating a Stairmaster."

8. Shutter Island

A real treat for lovers of old film, Martin Scorsese approaches this psychological thriller with an eye to Hitchcock and Georges Franju. The technical merits are peerless, and supporting turns from Ben Kingsley and Max Von Sydow are over-the-top in a great way. This is also, I think, the better of DiCaprio's "tortured soul due to late, crazy wife" performances.

9. Inception

Now for the other DiCaprio as a "tortured soul due to late, crazy wife" film. With The Dark Knight and this follow-up, Christopher Nolan deserves credit for pushing blockbuster filmmaking into an uncharted realm. It's also refreshing to see an original idea (not a franchise, reboot, etc.) get the big budget treatment (even if every line Ellen Page says is a piece of exposition). And as much as this isn't a performance piece, why people haven't been talking about Marion Cotillard's affecting work as Leo's luminous (albeit slightly crazy and dead) wife is beyond me.

10. Exit from the Gift Shop

An engaging look at the art of the scam, which itself might just be a scam. It looks at the rise of street art and the mysterious (and potentially fictitious) Banksy, who along with Shepard Fairey are the empresarios of the movement. It's all about what's art and who decides, or as Jennifer Egan put it in the excellent A Visit from the Goon Squad, "When does a fake mohawk become a real mohawk? Who decides?"

my life in mocktails

For those of you interested in how Amy and I are doing with this detox bit, check here for updates, anecdotes, and breakdowns: http://onceandfutureslurry.tumblr.com/

We're both quite funny, so it's worth a read.

that time we stopped drinking

One night over drinks (naturally), my friend Amy and I decided to take a break from booze. We came up with a 90 day goal, which takes us through March. This isn't a Lohan situation (as it's not court-mandated), we're just seeing if we can.

The reasons why are plenty. First off, I probably drink too much, in both frequency and quantity. It could be that I'm feeling the weight of my holiday season glut, or that everything I did in my early 20s is now catching up with me (eeep), but I just feel my body telling me to slow down.

Speaking of body, well, it could just be gay panic (at the disco), but the post-holiday puffiness has me wanted to focus a bit more on all that, so the lack of hangovers will make weekend workouts less rare.

Oh, and then there's the money. My rough estimates for how much I spend going out each month are brutal and un-sharable. Let's just say funneling some of that into savings would be advisable (or at least that's what Suze Orman would tell me).

So far, it's been surprisingly easy. We started on January 2, after the New Year's revelry had subsided. The first day was easy, as I was in a van coming back from a boozy trip to the Catskills, in which I may have been my most hungover ever.

On Saturday, I went to the Xanadude party in Williamsburg. The whole thing felt like the East Village had hopped the river, devoured Willamsburg, and then thrown it back up. Which is my way of saying it was more gay scenester than gay hipster. That said, the music was killer (the theme seemed to be regurgitated glitter); there was a giant, inflated cat tacked to the ceiling; a drag queen wore gloves adorned with talons; tank tops are in this winter; and I was perfectly fine sober. Funny is still funny, and awkward is still awkward. The biggest challenge is that any social anxiety is felt more acutely (a big reason people drink in the first place). Oh well, I'll figure it out.

Going forward, I think Amy and I are going to set up another site where we chronicle all of this, so stay tuned!

(Pictured: Me, in egregiously mismatched patterns, a little over a year ago at a winery in the Franschhoek Valley region of South Africa)

christmas? again? already?

Moments of utter bliss can occur in the most random of places. Picture me, puffy-eyed, hair tussled, early this morning at the Admirals Club at O'Hare. What an odd time to discover a bootleg version of Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story online.

It's not an exaggeration to say I've waited my entire adult life to see this movie. It's the first work from Todd Haynes, who I've had a crush on since I saw Safe in high school. It only grew when I saw his other films -- Poison, Velvet Goldmine, Far From Heaven -- in college.

But until now finding this first short film has been impossible. Due to his liberal, unauthorized use of the Carpenters songbook, and the fact that he uses Barbies (a trademarked entity) to play Carpenter and the other characters, it's been banned everywhere.

Amazingly, it lives up to my decade-long anticipation. It's camp meets David Lynch meets Kathy Acker meets Ivy League dissertation. It's unflinching, impossible-to-look-away-from, highly stylized, and profoundly disturbing. So, a fitting precursor for the Todd Haynes filmography.

I encourage all of you to take a look!

best. date. movie. ever.

Obviously, I'm kidding.

Nothing says "afternoon of a bonus day off" like an ultra-realistic film about the explosive demise of a relationship, but laundry was the alternative, so I couldn't resist.

Eeep. To call Blue Valentine the cinematic equivalent of getting punched in the stomach might be an understatement. Deliberately difficult to watch and pulling no punches, the film painstakingly documents all the horrible things people do to each other in a relationship. Unfortunately, it's a like what Cassavetes would have been like if he tried way, way, way too hard. That said, Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams can't be faulted. Yes, they're "fearless" for being so exposed, but they also make the film seem almost believable and real, even at its most contrived. If this is what that hipster couple next door grows up to become, I hope to have moved by then.

To that point, imagine my surprise to be alone in a sea of couples watching the film at the Angelika. What were these people thinking? Apart from loving seeing movies by myself, I was thrilled to be alone, I was relieved to not have shared the experience with anyone I know (Trading gasps during an abortion or awkward sex scene isn't going to bring me closer to anyone).

So, as hard as it was for me, the cold walk home with someone else would have been way harder.