After almost a whole year of wondering whether or not I'd have enough titles worth listing on a year-end "Top Ten" list, I watched movie after movie in a December scramble and found out that many great movies really were waiting for end-of-year releases and that I shouldn't have missed certain movies from earlier in the year, ones I was now catching on video. As a result, I discovered an armload of good films and am now sad I can't include more of them in my list. 

So here they are. As usual, these are more personal takes on my favorites of the year:

1. Brokeback Mountain. Boy, this one's been talked about enough, hasn't it? The breakthrough mainstream-targeted gay star-crossed romance movie is charging at full speed at the time of this writing, winning the majority of critics awards (LA and NY film critics rarely agree on best picture, for instance, but here they did). As a result, the conversation is in full swing. Is it really that good? Is it overrated? Are straight audiences only paying attention to it because of politically correct pressure? Will this movie actually create more bridges for the gay community? Can it win the Best Picture Oscar? Well, when I think about it, even with all the hype aside, I do find myself loving this movie, and I believe it has mostly to do with one very simple reason -- I'm an Ang Lee fanboy. And I didn't actually realize this until a little while ago. I've loved, or nearly loved, every movie I've seen from Lee -- Eat Drink Man Woman, Sense and Sensibility, Crouching Tiger, and, yes, even Hulk. I must be attuned to the man's wavelength. Brokeback Mountain is vintage Lee, full of beautiful scenery, quiet longing, lots of introspection, and patient pacing. I can feel the concern inside his characters, and in Brokeback Mountain, the characters have a very real urgency connected to their concerns. No film has moved me more this year, and I guess I shouldn't be surprised about that at all.

2. Good Night, and Good Luck. Yeah, I know, I had this rated as a 9 out of 10, so what the heck is it doing here at number 2? Well, I suspected that I liked it a lot more than I gave it credit for, because I kept thinking about it long after I had written the review. So I watched it again recently, and I was right -- I really dig this film. Initially, I was held back by, well, its black-and-white simplification -- it is indeed out to unreservedly extol the virtues of Edward R. Murrow. But the conflict here isn't whether or not Murrow was a good person, it's the ongoing struggle to maintain journalistic integrity in the face of mounting obstacles. Murrow, then, is the action hero of the piece, the one we root for once the movie has compelled us to cheer for the reporting of truth. Much of what makes this work comes from David Strathairn's stellar performance as Murrow, which I was thrilled to watch a second time. I like everything about this movie -- it has a point of view and communicates it sharply. I tip my hat to George Clooney for fulfilling the potential revealed from his previous movie.

3. Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit and
4. Corpse Bride. This is my vote against the oncoming forces of imagination-less computer-animated features, content as they are to rip off the successful movies that came before them in terms of humor, pacing, kid appeal, and adult appeal. Non-animated movies come in all shapes and sizes, so why must animated movies all follow one template? Yes, I know the answer -- it sells. But I'll take love for the craft over love for the money any day, and nothing says love for the craft more than stop-motion animation. The Curse of the Were-Rabbit maintains all the charms of Wallace & Gromit's animated shorts, full of clever puns, modest charms, and featuring the best silent comedy actor of our time. Corpse Bride isn't even for kids -- or, if it is, it's for those kids who celebrate more during Halloween than Christmas. Both movies show a joy in being able to express their worlds in their unique ways, and both happen to do this very well. Remember, the key word here is "unique."

5. King Kong. With Steven Spielberg fully ensconced in his "adult" phase, Peter Jackson steps in to fill the void he's left behind. Despite King Kong's December release, it has summer movie written all over it. This is an important distinction -- Jackson's film is an ode to the 1933 movie, which was mostly concerned about how cool they could make dinosaurs look and how neat-o it would be to watch a giant ape battle airplanes on top of the Empire State building. Jackson's Kong really takes off when he indulges in his own horror movie-honed glee, trying to outdo his own imagination with super-crazy action extravaganza set pieces. That stuff with Kong developing a relationship to Ann Darrow -- that's just icing on this cake. This movie lives for its wow factor, as many of the best movies in the past have.

6. Grizzly Man. Here's one of those movies that aligns itself with my cynical point of view about people: they create much ado while trying to fulfill simple needs. Timothy Treadwell wasn't any more complicated than the next person -- his peculiarity came in acting on extreme impulses to address his own insecurities and concerns. The fact that Werner Herzog comments on Treadwell's life opens up the window of perspective; it allows us to see Treadwell more as a human being with flaws, motives, and sad emotions, less as the cartoon character that he tends to make himself appear. The presentation of differing perspectives is this documentary's biggest strength -- it's an analytical work, not just a fact-presenter. That's my kind of doc. Two other Herzog documentaries (The White Diamond, Wheel of Time) were released in New York in 2005, and I've read they're just as compelling as Grizzly Man. I look forward to seeing them on DVD in the coming year.

7. Star Wars: Episode III -- Revenge of the Sith. Star Wars cursed itself by becoming too big, by meaning too many things to too many kids at the time. I credit the 1977 movie with showing me how great movies could be, and the original trilogy followed through, enthralling me all the way (yes, I even loved the Ewoks). The discovery always felt personal to me, and I've always understood these movies were journeys of the imagination. It's true the prequel trilogy didn't quite live up, but it definitely had its moments, and, for what it's worth, they always made me feel like I was visiting a familiar place. They're hyper-criticized, which is unfortunate, but for me they are what they are, and they work. Episode III is a great finish -- it's surprisingly, weirdly politically relevant and, in the way it ties ends to Episode IV and creates parallels to the story of the original trilogy, it's unabashedly nostalgic. It also has The Emperor taunting Yoda by calling him, "my little green friend!" That's kind of postmodern, isn't it -- has anyone in the Star Wars universe ever acknowledged that Yoda was green? I love this stuff!

8. The Aristocrats. Comedy is underappreciated and comedy is hard. It requires talent, ingenuity, and, perhaps, some good amount of taboo insanity. The Aristocrats shows all this, whether it's trying to be an analysis of humor or just giving various comedians a chance to indulge in their dark sides. I used to write comedy through the drawing of a comic strip, and that process has made me critical and appreciative of it, so this movie speaks to that side of me. Good comedy is borne from personal insight, and what could be more revealing of that than watching comedians tell a freeform dirty joke? With that in mind, well... beware all ye who venture to watch this no-holds-barred movie.

9. A History of Violence. This is another movie I'm afraid has been overpraised to the point where new people seeing it will wonder what the big deal is. Its effectiveness lies in its simplicity. It works because the story functions successfully on a straightforward level. It lingers because its subtext isn't tough to decipher. Frankly, I enjoyed its extremely black humor, which is evident not only in what some characters say and do but also in the way it handles the unexpected directions it takes (William Hurt's appearance pretty much seals the deal). This is what I would call a "cool" movie, one that isn't self-conscious -- it does what it needs to do, knows how to do it well, and leaves an impact. It's actually amazing how many movies have a difficult time in just being this simple.

10. 2046. Formally, 2046 is kind of a messy movie because it just bounces about all over the place, visiting different parts of different narrative threads, scattershooting its imagery. But since it's a film about the memories of lost love and the callous attempts to fill the void, the style fits entirely. In many ways, 2046 actually reflects the year 2005 for me. That may say more about me than I care to admit, but, looking back, I'm afraid it's quite true. Tony Leung's Mr. Chow is living in an uncomfortable aftermath, trying to make sense out of feelings that refuse to define themselves in neat terms. And throughout this last year, I was there too. I can sympathize even more now, half-a-year after seeing the movie, filling up a year's worth of love-related regrets. Hm, maybe that's all I want to say about this -- except to add that Wong Kar Wai has a lot of insight into this territory. 

Just missing my list were: The New World, a film to be felt; and Kung Fu Hustle, a comedic piece of gold. The Squid and the Whale and Pride & Prejudice were a couple of surprising notables. And Asian cinema had a strong showing this year with Howl's Moving Castle, Nobody Knows, 3-Iron, Ong-Bak, Pulse, Tropical Malady, and Oldboy -- an excellent variety of unique visions. There's that word again.

Thanks for reading, and happy new year, everybody.

(Article also posted on www.windowtothemovies.com.)

Photo from Brokeback Mountain: ©Focus Features. All rights reserved.