Reality and revelry

Late last week I decided that I would finally start catching up on the year in film 2009. I didn't actually see a single film in a theater the entire year, and I'm not proud of that fact — not one bit.
However, I do take heart in the fact that I managed to see two great films in the comfort of my home via Redbox at a cost of $2 and change. (On a side note, I have little sympathy for the closing Blockbuster brick-and-mortar locations; in the few times I was a patron, the most-popular titles were always sold out, and the harder-to-find titles were very rarely found.)
I started with "The Hurt Locker." In retrospect, this probably should have come later in my schedule of screenings. I'm pretty sure the bar has been set tremendously high for all films that follow.
What struck me the most about "The Hurt Locker" was the complete and utter lack of pretense. While there is manufactured drama and other thematics in any work of fiction, the dialogue and its delivery reminds us that this story comes from a very real place. There are a number of good documentaries on the Iraq war (including Michael Tucker's excellent "Gunner Palace"), and this film — more so than any other fictionalized accounting of the soldier's mission in Iraq — reminds me of them in the sense that the quiet scenes and booming action sequences alike draw me into the moment and never feel like I'm witnessing the product of a scripted, financed Hollywood spectacle.
Too many modern films about the military are too quick to concoct an emotional breakdown to serve the purpose of humanizing the trained killers we see on screen (Count the 2005 Sam Mendes film "Jarhead" among them, despite the absolute brilliance and reality in Swofford's published memoir). In nearly any other film, Staff Sgt. James' showering with his armor on would seem contrived or cliché. For such a powerful character to react in such a way — the only other time he unravels to such a level is his off-base excursion to find those responsible for the DVD-hocking "base rat" Beckham — is incredibly telling. We know that no person's resolve can be so steely that it never breaks; we know James is troubled on some levels. We know it will be shown in some way — but the way it comes across to the audience is not so much subtle and nuanced as it is logical, reasoned and seemingly real.
But as the opening quote and closing scene remind us, the conflict between the quiet intensity of defusing bombs and the violent outbursts both within and beyond the characters' minds and mouths is not the issue here. "War is a drug," as journalist Chris Hedges put it. James isn't so much surviving each day in Bravo Company to return home to his family; he knows that "one thing" that he loves.
As the greatest film critic of our times, Roger Ebert, pointed out: This film is not about action; it is about suspense. I'm hard-pressed to think of another film focusing on the military that includes so much suspense. The levels to which it rises in "The Hurt Locker" are top-notch. Think Gene Hackman's best works ("The Conversation," "The French Connection"). Think Alfred Hitchcock.
I'm not sure if "The Hurt Locker" is the best film of 2009; I'm not in a position of authority on the matter having seen only two films released since January 2009. But the part of my life that's been spent enjoying cinema is better for this film.
On a much lighter note, I followed the critically acclaimed "Hurt Locker" with a film that engendered equal amounts of praise for vastly different reasons: "The Hangover."
I've always found it very difficult to put good comedy into words. Good comedy is far too nuanced to try and explain with an alphabet. It's the indescribable look on John Belushi's face as he tries to smooth things over with the vengeful Carrie Fisher while on his knees in the last hour of "Blues Brothers." It's the wheelchair-bound Dr. Strangelove grappling with his diagnostic apraxia, trying to maintain some decorum while his uncontrollable hand tries to salute the Führer.
"The Hangover" isn't as good as those classic comedic moments, but it executes so many jokes so well, it gets a tip of my hat, even as I admonish myself for a guffaw over a poor, innocent baby being it by the door of a police car.
Both of these films have flaws, to be sure. "The Hurt Locker" could have done without the slow-motion shot (I tried to understand what purpose it served; I still haven't found it). The superfluous pop music throughout "The Hangover" will certainly be very dated in four years' time (Look back to Todd Phillips' "Old School" for a better score and use of a soundtrack — "Master of Puppets" and "Dust in the Wind" are now forever linked, in my mind, to that film instead of the respective albums they appear on).
I know I've seen better films in the last decade, and I've been privy to a decent amount of press screenings in my time, but I'm pretty sure the $2 I spent to rent these films on DVD gave me the best entertainment value I can remember in quite some time.