Howl's Moving Castle: Why the rush, Hayao? The plot doesn't even follow a fairy-tale brand of logic.2046: Wong Kar-Wai will just never equal In the Mood for Love, sorry. Zhang Ziyi, however, shows off some dazzlingly intense acting chops, though.
The Libertine: All the acting is beyond award-worthy; it is downright heroic. The sets are the most majestically lurid depictions of Restoration England ever. Unfortunately, in all the research and acting brio, someone forgot to tell the scriptwriter(/playwright) Stephen Jeffreys that John Wilmot, the Earl of Rochester, played more than memorably by Johnny Depp, was wickedly funny. That the audience misses out on a display of true, ribald brilliance is a tragedy.
Batman Begins: Katie Holmes. 'Nuff said. Seriously, although this was the best popcorn film of the year by a longshot, there was a slackness in the directing that made the film seem just a bit languid. I think Chris Nolan focused a little too much on making this "dark" and forgot superhero films are supposed to be fun too.
Saraband: Ingmar Bergman's triumphant return to the screen was actually barely a footnote to an unparalleled career.
Wedding Crashers: Did the film-makers forget they casted Christopher Walken? How can you avoid making Christopher Walken funny? Apparently, the film-makers also were under the impression that comedies can be over 2 hours long. Bastards. Kung Fu Hustle: Stephen Chow, you're just not that cool. Sorry. Maybe I just have something against cartoonish violence in a non-cartoon setting, but I yawned my way through this one.
Broken Flowers: I haven't seen Dead Man yet, but I don't like Jim Jarmusch. The plot and casting of this film is tailor-made for a wise but hilarious romp, but it feels more like a slog through a series of fuzzily conceived trailer quotes. Seriously, watch the trailer, all the best parts are in there. I don't think there was a single other film this year with more wasted potential.
March of the Penguins: Cute
is
so
fucking
overrated.
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