Wanted: The best film of 2012

It's rare that I would get into July without having at least a good placeholder as my #1 movie of the year.

As you probably know, I rank the movies I see from a given calendar year as I see them. I've seen 20 of them from 2012 -- a fairly pathetic total, but remember, I moved last month -- and I have yet to see something that I think could at least be in contention for the #1 spot at the end of the year.

That's not to say that my current #1 -- Jeff, Who Lives at Home -- is not a very enjoyable movie. I have drunk the Duplass brothers Kool-Aid, and I'm a big fan of most of their work. But #1 for the year? I see it more as around #20, when all is said and done. Assuming that the second half of the year will provide more worthy candidates than the first half, as it always does.

This is part of the reason I'm going to see Beasts of the Southern Wild tonight, which will be my first trip to the theater in exactly four weeks and one day.

Not surprisingly, there's a ton of worthy summer fare that I haven't caught up on, some of which demands to be seen on the big screen in order to have its greatest impact. But right now, I'm not looking for another FX epic that will likely land somewhere around the middle of my list. I want greatness.

Will Beasts of the Southern Wild be great? I don't know. In fact, I don't know a whole lot about it, and I'm glad for that fact. So, don't say anything about it in my comments section, at least until tomorrow morning (or until you've seen it appear in my Most Recently Seen list on the right).

But if the festival buzz about it is any indication, it could be a contender for that #1 spot.

Coming into the movie with this mindset has made me realize that there's a certain something I look for in a potential #1. Usually, I don't go into a popcorn movie thinking it could be #1. I'd like to think that I'd give that popcorn movie the chance to be the best movie I see that year, but I also know that I'd be disappointed if I did end up crowning it as the best movie of the year. In other words, I'm kind of hoping The Dark Knight Rises does not knock my socks off. (Its much beloved predecessor was only my #15 movie of 2008, and I doubt this one will actually be better.)

So I definitely prefer it if this potential best movie is something independent, or at least with an independent mindset. You'll see that borne out in my choices for best film of the year from the last ten years. (I could go back further, but that would just be self-indulgent. Or, I should say, even more self-indulgent.)

Let's take a look:

2011 - A Separation
2010 - 127 Hours
2009 - Moon
2008 - The Wrestler
2007 - There Will Be Blood
2006 - Children of Men
2005 - Hustle & Flow
2004 - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
2003 - Lost in Translation
2002 - Adaptation

There are a couple things these movies have in common. One is that they are mostly dramas. You could argue that a couple of these verge into comedic territory, but only slightly.

Another is that they are mostly not genre films. Moon is science fiction and Children of Men is post-apocalyptic, but neither of those genres are "heavy" genres -- and by that I mean that the genre does not heavily influence our expectations for the film, like a thriller, a noir or a romantic comedy would heavily influence our expectations. I'd argue that the genre classifications of Moon and Children of Men are actually a relatively small part of why I think they are so great.

Another thing they have in common is that most of these films has a big star -- a big male star in most cases. That's where Beasts of the Southern Wild seems to diverge from the others in terms of my usual criteria. The star of Beasts is a young girl with a name that's nearly impossible to pronounce on sight: Quvenzhane Wallis. I looked it up, and it's pronounced Qui-ven-ZHEN-ay. We'll all have to figure that one out if she becomes a household name.

However, the film's greater entrenchment within independent cinema than most of my yearly bests doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't be a prime contender. Last year I discarded my predilections in order to crown A Separation as my favorite film. As this film was produced entirely within Iran, clearly it does not boast any world-famous performers -- nor anyone likely to become world famous anytime soon.

But this is a lot more speculation than I usually like to indulge in. Even writing a post like this places undue burdens on the movie I'm going to see tonight. Now I'll be watching it specifically with an eye for how great it might be, not just taking in what it actually is.

But what can I say. I've gotten to July 11th without seeing what I consider to be a great film in 2012. I'm starved. I'm looking for contenders, and I can't trick myself into thinking I'm not.

Sorry to disappoint you, but don't expect me to check back in tomorrow with my thoughts. After all, if this is going to be my favorite film of the year, I want to keep up the suspense for when I reveal that choice in January of 2013.

One thing is certain: It will just be nice to get back to the movie theater after a month's layoff.

Those Duplass brothers make movies with heart

Jeff, Who Lives at Home opens with Jason Segel talking into a tape recorder.

At first, you think it's supposed to mean that Segel's character, Jeff, is an idiot. He's talking about the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs. Particularly about the perfect synergy of coincidences in its final scene -- you know, the scene where Joaquin Phoenix uses a baseball bat to smash a bunch of unfinished glasses of water, thereby killing a bunch of aliens. Sorry if I just ruined Signs for you.

The most obvious and snarkiest way to play this scene is to use Jeff's love for the movie Signs -- which he admits to watching at least a half-dozen times -- as proof that he is someone to pity or laugh at. (Never mind that I'm with Jeff, not to the extent that he is, and notwithstanding that last scene in particular.)

But if you think Jay and Mark Duplass would go that way, you don't know Jay and Mark Duplass.

They love their character Jeff, and they love that he loves Signs. In fact, I'm not even sure they disagree with him. Maybe they love Signs too.

In both of their last two films, the previous being Cyrus, the Duplass brothers have managed a pretty nifty balancing act. They are adhering to the modern-day Apatow-infused comedy sensibilities enough to provide good material for the trailers, but secretly taking the movie itself in their own direction, one with an unexpected amount of heart. (This is not to imply that Apatow's movies don't have heart, but they don't have the raw, genuine, unfiltered heart that Duplass movies do.)

The Signs bit is a good example. If any part of that bit appeared in the trailer, though I believe it does not, it would be used to demonstrate that Jeff is a geek or a loser -- not very cool, someone who loves a director as played out as M. Night Shyamalan. In fact, you could take that one step further and say that the entire title Jeff, Who Lives at Home is intended to give you this impression, that Jeff is a man child who has never matured, who loves getting stoned and watching movies appreciated by geeks in his mother's basement.

Some of this is true. But the reasons he's never matured are not part of the realm of comedy. And Jeff's home? He's barely there at all.

I love this about the Duplass brothers, that they are kind of baiting and switching us for our own benefit. Cyrus did not play like many people thought it would play, as kind of a Step Brothers lite. (Though I might not have minded that, because I love Step Brothers.) Many people surely thought that John C. Reilly and Jonah Hill would spend the running time of Cyrus playing cruel pranks on each other in their desperate attempts to win Marisa Tomei's love. That stuff is in play, but not nearly to the extent you'd think it would be. And the supposed big set piece, in which Reilly and Hill come out the door of a wedding reception fighting, is a deadly serious, tragic moment -- as it would be in real life.

Mixing tragedy in with their comedy is what earns the Duplass brothers their heart. And without these difficult moments of real pain, the heart that fills the stretch run of Cyrus wouldn't be so satisfying. But don't be confused -- when I say "heart," I don't mean "shmaltz." I mean a genuine affection for the characters and a genuine, honest approach to a truly satisfying catharsis.

I won't say if Jeff, Who Lives at Home ends that way, because it just came out and you should see it. However, you can guess from my tone that I'm very satisfied with how it ends -- and with the movie in general.

And if something about the structure of this movie ends up resembling a little M. Night Shyamalan movie about aliens allergic to water, it's all the more proof of the Duplass brothers' refreshing disdain for cynicism.