Groot

So long, 2014. It’s been a year of Olympics and Iggy and Kim Kardashian and Groot, to say the least. This week, the Diversions desk is waxing nostalgic about its favorite art of the year. Today, our film picks. For our thoughts on music, click here. 

Did we miss one of your favorites? Let us know about it in the comments, or tweet to us @DBKDiversions.

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

“Unique” is not quite the right word to describe Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), but I’m struggling to find anything else. I’ll say this: There are aspects of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s film I would call genius, artistic, entertaining, beautiful, magical, confusing and just plain weird. The performances are almost all brilliant, especially that of Edward Norton (The Grand Budapest Hotel), and the directing is stunningly imaginative. The script is smart and layered, the kind of work that only comes every couple of years.

That kind of complex, unique (there’s that word again) quality makes Birdman the best film of the year. But trust me, the movie is better seen than described. To wrap up Birdman into one word would be a fool’s errand; an easier task is to watch it and enjoy it.

— Michael Errigo

***

Boyhood

Boyhood is that rare film that stands apart from the rest not only because of its quality, but because the sheer act of making it was an enormous undertaking — something never done before. Filmed over the course of 12 years and featuring the actors aging on-screen, Boyhood didn’t have the luxury of planning events. It adapted to whatever happened in the world from 2002 to this year. Richard Linklater and his talented cast and crew have created an ode to boyhood, a love letter to growing up and the heartaches and nostalgia associated with it.

Boyhood’s main character is now 20, so many of his childhood experiences were shared by students at this university, giving us a look back on a life from which we aren’t so far removed. The film, for the most part, doesn’t focus on big life moments. Instead, it revels in those small memories we keep coming back to us for reasons we don’t quite understand. Boyhood is a small fragment of just one kid’s life, but it’s beautiful and powerful, and reminds us of how important every moment can become.

— Jonathan Raeder

The Fault in Our Stars

It’s common knowledge that big-budget action films hit theaters in the summer, while studios nearly always release romantic comedies around Valentine’s Day, with dinner-and-a-movie dates in mind. This summer, though, the film adaptation of John Green’s bestselling young-adult novel The Fault in Our Stars flipped the formula on its head. 

The Fault in Our Stars is far from your typical romantic movie, though. For one, it doesn’t romanticize illness as some other books-turned-movies have (see: My Sister’s Keeper, A Walk To Remember). It’s quite possibly the greatest work of tragic realism at the cinema this year.

The movie also doesn’t trivialize its young characters just because they’re young: The high-schoolers at the center of the film are thoughtful and intelligent, albeit a little foolish. They have flaws, but they aren’t defined by them.

As terminal protagonist Hazel Grace Lancaster, Shailene Woodley (Divergent) secures her status as young Hollywood royalty, and breakout star Ansel Elgort (Divergent) is as much of a heartthrob as his character, Hazel’s love interest Augustus Waters, is.

When I saw the film opening night, the theater was a symphony of laughter, then swoons, and eventually sniffles and sobs. Just as Hazel admits to falling in love with Gus — “slowly, and then all at once” — I, and seemingly everyone else at that midnight showing, fell in love with the film.

— Mel DeCandia

Gone Girl

Gone Girl is a stressful movie. It’s not the sort of film you can sit back and enjoy; it’s the engaging sort that grabs you by your lapel and spins you around until you’re dizzy. Similar to how you might enjoy an upside-down roller coaster, Gone Girl upends your sense of reality and leaves you a bit breathless.

It’s hard to get too far into Gone Girl’s plot without spoiling anything, and to the credit of ever-capable director David Fincher (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), the trailers tease just enough without giving away anything important.

Ben Affleck (Runner Runner) plays Nick Dunne, a writer whose wife, Amy (Rosamund Pike, What We Did on Our Holiday), disappears under incriminating circumstances, leading to a media circus with Nick at the center. The truth of the couple’s relationship is questioned, and we delve into the psychology of love, marriage and power. We also get unusually dark performances by Tyler Perry (Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Neighbors from Hell) and Neil Patrick Harris (A Million Ways to Die in the West).

Through the movie’s twists and turns, Fincher plays mind games and stimulates your concepts of truth and doubt. A satisfying 149 minutes that’s worth more than a single rewatch, Gone Girl had me hanging onto every word.

— Leo Traub

Guardians of the Galaxy

Superhero movie fatigue was setting in when a movie based on a little-known comic came along this summer and proved the genre can still be mined for originality.

OK, Guardians of the Galaxy might have served as another spoke on the endlessly spinning Marvel Studios wheel, but director James Gunn elevated the film from the standard superhero movie fare. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in a movie theater, and maybe that’s because it was so unexpected for the genre. 

Irreverence is not new to superhero movies — The Avengers drew success from witty banter and a flippancy — but Guardians of the Galaxy took this to a new level. Some of this came from the source material, as characters like Groot and Rocket Raccoon made the film’s humor seem appropriate, but it’s evident Gunn’s vision involved standing out with a distinctly cool style rather than blending in with the methodic crowd.

The film instead distinguished itself with sleek and quirky visual effects, a nostalgic soundtrack and a talented cast, led by Chris Pratt (Parks and Recreation) in a star-making role as the self-proclaimed Star-Lord, who heads up a ragtag gang of criminals to fight evil in the universe.

From the moment Pratt dances through ruins and into our hearts up until a baby Groot steals the show with his adorable moves, it was obvious Guardians of the Galaxy set out to show that the superhero movie formula doesn’t have to feel rigid.

— Dustin Levy

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part One

The Hunger Games series came at a perfect time. There was an empty place in our hearts after the Harry Potter movies came to a close, and The Hunger Games successfully filled that void. Part One of The Hunger Games’ third installment is the best Hunger Games movie yet and one of the best movies of the year. Everything from graphics to acting was elevated in Mockingjay. 

Jennifer Lawrence (X-Men: Days of Future Past) is partially responsible for Mockingjay’s appeal. Movies often struggle to have a badass female character. Mockingjay manages to showcase a powerful woman without slamming a feminist agenda in viewers’ faces. 

Reading the book before watching the movie is a good idea, but Mockingjay is clear without that context. Just watch the previous Hunger Games films first. 

Mockingjay is the perfect balance of darkness, action and wit, making it a perfect addition to The Hunger Games. 

— Julia Reed

Under the Skin

Under the Skin is all about alienation. The movie is an immensely abrasive experience, bombarding viewers with unsettling images, sounds and thoughts. It’s hard to pin down what Under the Skin says about consciousness and humanity, because the film is an act of such precise yet savage deconstruction.

Brought to life by a career-best performance from Scarlett Johansson (Lucy), the main character in Under the Skin sees the human world through such clinical alien eyes that it begins to rub off on the viewer after a while.

The film steadily tears down almost all notions about society and the human condition while inducing large amounts of panic and anxiety. You’re left with a profound sense of loneliness and existential dread. Few movies are as unnerving as this one.

— Warren Zhang

Whiplash

From its legato opening moments to its skull-rattling finale, Whiplash utterly pulverized me, in the best way.

No other film this year (including Birdman) conveyed so much about art and the maniacs who devote their lives to it so economically and effectively.

Using competitive jazz drumming as the lens to its side-eyed look at the pursuit of artistic glory and the cycles of abuse that might make that pursuit pay off, Whiplash is more even-keeled than its jazz milieu would suggest. The film functions more like a surgical needle; writer-director Damien Chazelle’s clean cuts and roving takes deliver adrenaline in a long, slow, inescapable crescendo.

And this is to say nothing of the performances. J.K. Simmons (The Legend of Korra) turns bullshit into beat poetry as an effusive jazz teacher. But it is Miles Teller (Two Night Stand) who truly startles: His character might be beaten down, but the actor quietly owns the movie, turning a hollow stare and a few twists of the mouth into mountains of meaning. He is the embodiment of Chazelle’s craft: sparse, spry and all the more affecting for it.

There were better films this year, but Whiplash will be deservedly remembered as one of the greats: It is a totally singular and virtuosic piece of filmmaking and seems destined to launch Teller and Chazelle into new realms of fame.

Oh, and the soundtrack’s amazing.

— Eric Bricker