Okay, okay - so the title of this post is a tad convoluted. The phrase "Worst 'Best'" is absurd. I get it. In fact, if I could think up a better title, I'd
definitely use it. But here we are. Sorry.
Essentially, this is a list of ten films that I hate (hence the "worst" part of my title). Yet, these are movies that are widely known as
classics - they've raked in millions of dollars, had many critics swooning, appear on "Best Of..." lists, and won plenty of awards (hence the "best" part of my title). In my opinion, these are the bloated carcasses that float face-down atop our contemporary film canon. These are the "classic" movies that I feel are overrated, over-appreciated, and over-celebrated. For the most part, I think they suck. So, I guess it's time to dive in headfirst. The list will be presented in alphabetical order, and you'll find NO SPOILERS HERE. I promise.
- Avatar (2009): There's no better place to start than this - full of technical innovations, nominated for nine Oscars, and the
highest grossing movie of all time. I'll admit: at face value, this is a terrific film. Unfortunately that's all this schlock-heap actually
is - face value. After the first few scenes whiz by, during which it's impossible not to gawk at all the pretty colors and glowing things, it becomes apparent that the film is a tiresome cliche. The plot? It's called
Dances With Wolves (or
Pocahontas, or
The Last Samurai, or whatever). The characters? A hero without an ounce of charisma, a villain lacking any motivation whatsoever, and a love interest naive enough to be suckered into it all. Riveting. Remember when good science fiction had to be thematically rich? When you'd sit around for hours contemplating
2001: A Space Odyssey, when you'd rewind and re-watch the final scene in
A Clockwork Orange just to puzzle it all out? Even sci-fi classics heavy on the action, like
T2 and
The Matrix, still have ideas ripe for the plucking, still engage the intellect alongside the imagination. Nope. Not with
Avatar, though. Why write an intriguing plot when you can have big explosions? Why create engaging characters when you have gluttonous 3-D? Why have challenging themes and ideas when you can simply
tell the audience what to think? This movie is incredibly disappointing. It doesn't matter how
realistic it looks, how
fully-realized the setting seems. The millions of dollars and years of hard work can't make it more than it is. This is a movie of cardboard. Thin. Flimsy. Nothing more.
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Blade Runner (1982): I've watched this movie three times. Each time I
want to like it, I
want to see it the way so many others do: as a masterpiece of science fiction, an experimental film noir, a cerebral thriller. Alas, on three separate occasions, I have not. Yes, the set design is lovely. Yes, Harrison Ford does a terrific job. But why are we all so infatuated with this movie? Why do we insist upon labeling it a classic? Well, I think any film that spends as much time brooding as this one does, we tend to view as deep, or emotional. But is it? So our hero is troubled, does that make him more dimensional than any others? More frustratingly, the narrative is a convoluted mess. In terms of plot, it doesn't just twist and turn, but does nauseating loops. In terms of theme, it bounces between contrasting influences and ideas. Some movies pull this off admirably, all of David Lynch's films spring to mind, but the delivery here is so dull, the pacing practically static.
This is my biggest complaint:
Blade Runner is SO BORING. When character motivations are muddled, when the plot is dank and unknown, then the action ceases to be interesting. Maybe if I watched this movie another three times (or three-hundred times, for that matter) it would start to be enjoyable. For now, though? I'm done trying.
Blade Runner can keep its pseudo-intellectualism and its down-trodden demeanor. I'd rather watch
Star Wars any day of the week.
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Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961):
Breakfast at Tiffany's is widely regarded as a lovely little romantic comedy, one that examines love and friendship in a quirky, flirtatious way. To me, it's a bland film. The pacing is mild, the performances mediocre, and the writing is perfectly humdrum. The dialogue tries so hard to be sparkling and witty, but comes off cheap and unrealistic. Even the color palette, with its pale pinks and soft yellows, feels numb. Everything about this movie is lukewarm. Everything, that is, except the overwhelming racism dashed into the mix. For those of you who don't know, an Asian "character" is played by none other than Mickey Rooney, who milks the offensive stereotype for all it's worth. So, if mediocrity splashed with overt racism is what you're after, then look no further. This is a movie that has
not aged well, but then again, it wasn't good from the start, so I guess I'm not surprised.
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Gladiator (2000): "Are you not entertained?!" No, Mr. Crowe, I am not. I don't care how many weapons you swing. I don't care how many foes you defeat. This movie is a Roman chariot with a bum wheel - sure, it takes you from points A to B, but the ride is uncomfortable and inescapably slow. As our chiseled hero, Russel Crowe glowers through every scene, frowning as hard as he can, refusing to exude any range of human emotion. And you know what's
most aggravating about it all? Crowe won an Oscar for "Best Actor" because of this. Not from
A Beautiful Mind or
The Insider (he's fantastic in both of these, by the way), but
from
Gladiator. It's really hard to comprehend. The only salvageable performance here is from Joaquin Phoenix as the slithery villain, Commodus. Unfortunately, this is the movie's only highlight. The rest of the film is typified by poorly staged action sequences, uninspired cinematography, and a gaggle of actors who all seem to be sleepwalking. If you're into historical epics, especially ones set in ancient Rome, then watch
Spartacus - it's spectacular.
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Heat (1995): Again, I'm baffled why so many people like
Heat. It's about three hours long, full of terrible storylines (a few of which go nowhere), lacks a single
likeable character, and has a cliched climax to boot. Hooray. To detail and describe each of its specific flaws would take pages, so I'll merely touch on a few of the miscalculations I find most amusing: -- 1.) After sitting through a lengthy montage in which our master thieves are planning an elaborate bank robbery, the actual heist ends with our criminal masterminds walking out the front door...in broad daylight...without masks of any kind. Is this supposed to be ironic? Tongue-in-cheek? I doubt it. The film takes itself too seriously to have a sense of humor. What a ridiculous moment. -- 2.) Apparently the L.A.P.D. is unaware of public safety, because many officers in this movie shoot endless rounds of ammunition from very big, very loud guns, in very public areas. I understand in movies you often have to suspend your disbelief, but seeing our hero detective (played by Al Pacino) sprinting down a busy city street shooting wildly at the bad guys is absurd. Keep in mind, this extensive
shootout is cut with scenes of civilians fleeing for their lives. Does Detective Pacino see the innocent people he's endangering? Do
any of the cops in this movie realize how reckless they're being? This is just awful. -- 3.) For whatever reason, the movie has an inane subplot about a serial killer who murders prostitutes. It serves no purpose (apart from a misguided sense of complexity), and gets even
worse when a haphazard attempt is made to tie it to the main story. It's silly, superfluous, and just plain dumb. -- In no way whatsoever is this a great crime drama. If you want a new classic, go watch
The Departed or
The Usual Suspects or
The Dark Knight. Save yourself three hours of aggravation and skip
Heat. I mean it.
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The Lady Eve (1941): This is a screwball romantic comedy from the 40s, so it's filled to the brim with goofiness. Regrettably, it's the goofiness that is this film's undoing. Random cases of mistaken identity hijack the plot, misunderstandings run rampant, and endless hijinks ensue. Due to the incessant calamity that is constantly underway, the movie is emotionally distant. It becomes impossible to engage anything on an emotional level because the humor is too over-the-top, the circumstances too outlandish. In the midst of all this nonsense is an excellent performance by Barbara Stanwyck, but unfortunately Henry Fonda is always there to spoil it. Too bad.
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Solaris (1972):
Solaris should have been my kind of movie. It's an intelligent sci-fi gem, heavy on atmosphere, saturated with stimulating concepts, and centered on a captivating main character. Here's my only real complaint about this classic movie: it is, without a doubt, one of
the most boring films I've
ever seen. It's dull, tedious, slow moving, and so on. An intellectual agenda is on display at all times, which means it feels more like a final exam than a movie. Each scene is a riddle, but they're unfortunately not very interesting riddles. While you struggle to decipher all the symbols and motifs, you'll notice the movie feels longer and longer. As an absorbing motion picture, I think it fails. As a cure for insomnia, it could be a monumental success.
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Tron (1982): It's bright, shiny, colorful, technologically innovative, but totally lacking in heart. Herein lies the essence of
Tron's failure. Not even Jeff Bridges, who is
always awesome, could make it more than a vaguely amusing light show. It's a short film that feels hopelessly long. Perhaps this is because it's almost impossible to connect with the characters and situations, perhaps because beneath all those lovely colors is a shallow black emptiness. If you're intrigued by the premise, then watch the sequel
Tron: Legacy instead. It is a far superior movie, one that better balances razzle-dazzle and emotionality. (As an added bonus,
Legacy also has Jeff Bridges in a
dual role!
So righteous!)
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The Untouchables (1987): If stripped of all the accolades and fanfare,
The Untouchables would be a decent, albeit underwhelming, crime drama. The script is sparse but quick, the art direction is charming, and a few performances (notably those by Robert De Niro and Sean Connery) are quite entertaining. However, for all its critical acclaim and lasting influence, this movie is disappointingly sub-par. The film's director, Brian De Palma, is one big reason to blame. Scenes hustle by too quickly - the audience barely gets a chance to admire the scenery, or study the characters, or internalize the plot. Instead we're jostled hastily forward, skipping the artistry of it all and focusing solely on the bare bones at work. Yet, while De Palma glosses over the hard work of his crew, he dedicates focus and energy to celebrate himself. Directorial style can be a lovely thing when it harmonizes with the production, but in
The Untouchables, the movie stops on a dime so our director can establish a not-so-subtle reference, or to inject some personal finesse that is ultimately unnecessary. It's jarring and counterproductive. But all of De Palma's stylistic hiccups pale in comparison to the film's primary problem: our central performance, played by Kevin Costner. This is a lifeless portrayal, one so wooden it practically blends in with the set decoration. Whenever a moment demands an authentic emotion, Costner stares blankly and speaks in monotone. It's laughable. Really. Even now, thinking about it makes me chuckle. I think the man is a pretty poor actor in general, but some movies can utilize Costner in agreeable ways (
Man of Steel, for one). In
The Untouchables, however, his inability to emote is in bloom. Watch and be astounded.
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West Side Story (1961): Like a few of the movies on this list,
West Side Story's biggest fault is all the awards and acclaim it won but didn't deserve. This is a completely functional motion picture. A few performances are nice, the set design is apt, the pacing is moderate, and the music is lovely. But to win 10 Academy Awards? To be so fondly and warmly received by critics? To be such an integral part of our pop culture? Hardly. This is a terribly forgettable film - one that epitomizes the phrase I employed earlier: "...overrated, over-appreciated, and over-celebrated." Folks, this is just not a very good movie. I'll admit, I'm not wild about the overriding choices at work here. Dancing as a substitute for gang violence and homicide? I'm sorry - call me cynical, call me narrow-minded, but I can't suspend my disbelief that much. The whole thing feels silly. It's unabashedly, fundamentally absurd. And wait, isn't this supposed to be a modernization of
Romeo and Juliet? So why is the climax butchered? Why are so many of the film's basic components, like performances and choreography and dialogue, so excessive? I know it's a musical, but that doesn't mean it has to be so over the top. If you're seeking a good movie musical, I'd opt for
Chicago,
Little Shop of Horrors, or
Singin' in the Rain. All of these movies are superb productions, and have a better grip on the mechanics and artistry required. But for
West Side Story, it all feels fake. Something about it resonates flatly. My advice? Go see it on stage. In the theater, with a live orchestra playing and real people putting in an honest effort, it feels a little more alive.
