“Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”
– Luke 2:10-11

I saw two movies this past weekend—the second weekend of Advent. They were The Messenger (dir. Oren Moverman) and Up in the Air (dir. Jason Reitman). Both films are winning awards right and left this season, but that’s not the only thing they have in common. Both films focus upon the unfortunate task of bearing bad news.

In The Messenger, Woody Harrelson and Ben Foster play a pair of U.S. Army officers recently back from combat who are assigned to the Army’s Casualty Notification service. They bring the death notifications to the fallen soldiers’ next of kin. It’s a horrible job, but somebody’s got to do it.

In Up in the Air, George Clooney plays a seasoned professional “terminator”—hired to fire employees for bosses too chicken to do it themselves. In the film, Clooney’s character, Ryan Bingham, partners with an intrepid young “terminating engineer” named Natalie (Anna Kendrick), and the two spend their days flying from city to city, leaving a trail of the devastated and newly unemployed in their wake.

Both films are about the tidings of bad news… news of the death of a loved one, news of the end of employment. It made me think about how utterly prevalent bad news is in our world. Our lives are so marked by disappointment and discouragement. The world is so abuzz with the communication of negative messengers. Whether it’s as direct as bringing a death notice to a next of kin or as subliminal as a clothing advertisement communicating the unimpressive flabbiness of any non-model’s body, negative news is not hard to find.

Here we are at the end of 2009—at the end of the first decade of the 21^st century—and what is it we remember? 9/11? Katrina? Iraq? Afghanistan? It’s almost all negative. Turn on the news and what do we see? Glenn Beck bitching about healthcare? Keith Olbermann moaning about Sarah Palin? More bad economic news? New Tiger Woods mistresses? There’s hardly anything encouraging coming in to our ears.

That’s why Advent—that’s why Luke 2:10—rings out with such startling power.

“I bring you good tidings of great joy,” said the angel to the shepherds, “which shall be to all people.”

ALL people. GOOD news. GREAT joy. And it wasn’t just a toothless platitude. It was legit. The best news the world ever received.

As I ponder the painful process that is the bearing (and receiving) of bad news, I’m heartened by the reality that Christ has come, and he’s overcome the world. Joy has won. Good news will overcome.

I’m also challenged, as a Christian, to not contribute to the chorus of complaining and to not get caught up in the endless stream of negative messaging. Rather, I want to spread the good news—the Gospel—which is ultimately the only thing that will pull us out of this quagmire of nature and negativity.

A Savior has come to rescue us, in the midst of our cancer and credit card debt, popstar Propofol  overdoses, swine flu fears and VMA rants. In the middle of our moaning for more love and aching for less pain, a little baby came and funneled it all toward a singular point in the heavens. A star that represented hope.

Joy to the world indeed.

What do you get a hipster for Christmas? Pickier and harder-to-impress than the average person, hipsters can sometimes prove the most challenging of all loved ones to gift to. But if you are stumped as to what to get your v-neck wearing, unshaven nephew or that fair-weather Vegan cousin with the purple hair, fear not! I have some suggestions for gifts sure to be a hit among the hipsters this season.

Film Auteur Coasters: Mix and match coasters bearing the faces of an assortment of indie directors, including Stanley Kubrick, Woody Allen, Quentin Tarantino, Spike Jonze, Paul Thomas Anderson, Noah Baumbach, Wes Anderson, Sophia Coppola, & Jim Jarmusch, among others. Any hipster worth their cinematic salt will want these coasters beneath the towering glasses of oatmeal stout that accompany a communal viewing of Russian Ark. $48-96.

Travel Books Box Set: Hipsters love to travel, and while abroad they love to indulge in all the coolest, most “non-touristy” things. For the inside source, they’ll need to consult resources like the new “Hedonist’s Guide” series of travel books from Tumi. This conveniently packaged collection will help the hostel-going hipster graduate to sophisticating jetset navigation of all the hotspots of Paris, London, New York, Milan, Dubai, Buenos Aires, Berlin and Tokyo. $125.

Moleskine Notebooks: You can’t go wrong getting a hipster a Moleskin. Whether they use it to take notes, write poetry, doodle, dream, or jot down ideas for blog posts (as I do), you will be sure to put a smile on a hipster’s face with this smart and sleek stocking stuffer (comes in numerous varieties and colors). $10-20.

Shwood Wood-frame Sunglasses: The Oregon-based Shwood truly hit the jackpot with this ingenious variation on the traditional Ray-ban style hipster sunglasses. The wood frame look is wonderfully rustic and original, and for about $100 you can get a hipster something that will make them legitimately stand out!  $95-115.

Elitist Coffee: Nothing spells hipster like C-O-F-F-E-E. Especially when it’s super elite, expensive and/or part of the so-called “Third Wave” of American coffee. Two of the biggest names in the new frontier of high-quality coffee are Portland’s Stumptown and Chicago/L.A.’s Intelligentsia. Both brands of coffee can be bought online, and I highly recommend it!

Cigarette Carton Shaped Books: Most hipsters really love reading books (or at least the idea of it), and most of them love cigarettes. Tank Books recently combined the two ideas with a brilliantly conceived series of books designed to mimic cigarette packs – the same size, packaged in flip-top cartons with silver foil wrapping and sealed in cellophane. Buy them individually or as part of the full set in a tin box, which includes books by Conrad, Hemingway, Kafka, Tolstoy, Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson… All authors who loved their cigs. $15-70.

Freitag Messenger Bags: Are messenger bags still cool? They are when made by the Swiss out of recycled truck tarpaulins, unravelled seat belts, bicycle inner tubes beyond repair, and recycled airbags. These durable, entirely recycled bags are all different—each containing unique colors, markings and contours. You’ll be the only kid on the block with this bookbag. What more could a hipster ask for? $195.

Kiva Microfinance: In the charitable spirit of Christmas, why not give a microfinance loan as a “gift” in the name of the hipsters in your life? In all seriousness, Kiva is a cool person-to-person microlending website where you can lend money–with friends or just yourself–to entrepreneurs around the world who are trying to just get by. A product of the peer-to-peer social networking age, Kiva puts a personal, interactive face to the fight against world poverty. You can give Kiva gift certificates ($25-$5,000) to friends who can then lend the funds from the certificate to the entrepreneurs of their choice.

Fuji Instax Camera: In the wake of the death of Polaroid (alive now only via the ebays of the world), Fuji has stepped up with what might be the next generation of instant photography, something every true hipster can’t live without. This quaint little point-and-shoot is a perfect addition to the analog collection of all those anti-digital luddite artisan hipsters out there.  $100.

Build Your Own Bamboo Bicycle: The Brookyln-based Bamboo Bike Studio was founded “to harness the possibility and promise of self-propulsion, reaching out from New York City to developing nations around the world, beginning with Ghana and Kenya in Africa.” Whatever that means… Not that it matters. With weekend-long workshops (“walk in Saturday, ride out Sunday”), you can build an awesome bike out of bamboo! It’s the best present you could possibly give a hipster: simple, hand-made, vaguely Third World, somehow related to the “ongoing climate and energy crisis.” $1250.

Here we are at last: The final 25 of my “Top 100 of the Decade” list. I’m posting this on my birthday, as a sort of present to myself, because as many of you probably know (if you’ve read my blog even a little bit), movies are a big deal to me. They’ve been a big deal for me for a while now, but the 2000s has really been my “coming of age” decade for appreciating, learning about, and experiencing cinema. I published my first film review in 2001 as a freshman in college (the Julia Stiles movie O), and 9 years, hundreds of reviews and a graduate film studies degree later, I’m still at it. The films listed below represent those that have kept my passion alive over these years–not only for the cinema, but for art and life in general. And for God. Maybe it sounds a little strange, but I truly believe these films have enriched my faith.

In any case, it’s been fun reflecting on the decade in cinema by making this list (100-76, 75-51, 50-26). Maybe it wasn’t the 1930s or the 1970s, but the 2000s was a darn good decade in film. Without further ado, here’s the conclusion of my list:

25) Chop Shop (Ramin Bahrani, 2007): Though set in New York City, in the shadow of Yankees Stadium, this film feels remarkably other-worldy (Third-worldly, actually). But that’s the point. Tapping into the spirit of De Sica-style Italian neo-realism, Chop Shop puts a lens on the unseen, difficult lives of the American urban underclass.

24) Dancer in the Dark (Lars von Trier, 2000): This film could easily be seen as some sort of cruel ironic joke, if only it wasn’t so achingly sincere. It may be the most depressing musical ever, but this Bjork-starring film is utterly compelling and packs a major punch at the end.

23) Man on the Train (Patrice Leconte, 2002): This film about two strangers who wish they had the other one’s life is deceptively simple and yet endlessly insightful. We’ve all wished we could live another type of life at some point or another. Leconte comments on many aspects of humanity in this film (identity, aging, mortality, etc) and yet it never feels aggressively cerebral.

22) Adaptation (Spike Jonze, 2002): Charlie Kaufman wrote himself into the script for this film about the writing of an adapted screenplay of a book. With Jonze behind the camera, the effect is discombobulating in a gleefully postmodern sort of way. But in the hands of brilliant actors like Meryl Streep and Chris Cooper (and yes, Nicolas Cage), the film manages to connect on a deeper level than just meta deconstructionism.

21) Cache (Hidden) (Michael Haneke, 2005): This film is compelling on so many levels. It’s a suspenseful thriller, well-acted character study, but it’s also a film that is about watching film (a theme Haneke also explores in his controversial Funny Games). It’s a film about seeing, being seen, and the various levels of “reality” that we must wade through when we start thinking about media and how it increasingly arbitrates so much of our existence.

20) Nine Lives (Rodrigo Garcia, 2005): Nine fragments of nine individual lives, told in segments over a series of nine long shots: all of them women, all unresolved glimpses into tangled lives with branching trajectories. It may sound convoluted, but this film evokes so much truth in its snapshot structure. It’s akin to the soundbite news stories or googled tidbits that populate our everyday windows into other peoples’ worlds… only better.

19) Gosford Park (Robert Altman, 2001): Though it might appear at first glance to be an elegant British murder mystery, Gosford Park is actually a quite profound, moving, entertaining examination of class. Writ large with one of Altman’s trademark massive ensemble casts, Gosford boasts innumerable dynamo performances from the likes of Helen Mirren, Maggie Smith, and Kristen Scott Thomas.

18) No Country for Old Men (Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, 2007): On one level, this film is a pulsating cat-and-mouse thriller, but as it progresses we see that it is about much, much more. The presence and subsequent absence of violence as the film goes along reveals a white flag weariness that matches the arid and emotionless Texas landscape. It’s a film that intentionally refuses satisfaction or answers to its audience, leaving us, like the older characters in the films, to stand stumped and disillusioned by the mundane nightmares of our contemporary world.

17) George Washington (David Gordon Green, 2000): Green’s debut film is anachronistic (there are no computers or cell phones to be seen), but while it may not feel completely comfortable in the 21st century, neither does it feel at home in the 20th. The film is in some ways a lament for the “olden days” of green grass, safe streets, American dreams—but it is also looking away from all that—towards a new future that leaves behind the racial, relational, and economic strife of bygone days.

16) The Pianist (Roman Polanski, 2002): The ending of this film is pure catharsis. After two and a half hours of death and horror, our protagonist (Adrian Brody) is finally redeemed, and over the end titles, he performs Chopin’s magnificent Grande Polonaise for piano & orchestra with the Warsaw Philharmonic in a concert hall. Like the beautiful music played throughout the film, it is both sad and triumphant—equal parts emotional release and spiritual requiem for lost beauty and innocence. Very few films’ end titles are so riveting that not a single audience member leaves for five+ minutes.           

15) The Son (Jean-Pierre Dardenne/Luc Dardenne, 2002): Aside from maybe The Road, there was no more beautiful a portrait of fathers and sons this decade than The Son, which is also the best European film of the decade. A film of great patience, restraint, and quietness (shot in the Dardennes’ trademark verite style) The Son spans the mundane rhythms of life and finds within it an abundance of grace.

14) The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006): This is a thoroughly contemporary film in both obvious ways (the importance of cell phones for the script) and on more subtle levels (the transnational migration of the film from the Hong Kong original—Infernal Affairs—is a decidedly recent phenomenon in cinema). Furthermore, the film’s urban, unrepentant nihilism feels quite authentic in the context of our current cultural quagmire.

13) In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar Wai, 2000): This haunting, dream-like film from Hong Kong (set in the 1960s) is an expression of love—not just the human experience of it, but also our memory of it and its cinematic expression. Thoroughly contemporary in its preoccupations with nostalgia and the urgency of remembrance, In the Mood luxuriates in the inherent sensuality of the cinema and the necessarily mournful implications of the filmic embodiment of time.

12) Old Joy (Kelly Reichardt, 2006): Coming out as it did at the height of Bush-era malaise, Reichardt’s impressive debut captured the emotional tenor of a generation (or a certain large swath of a generation) better than just about any other film this decade. Startlingly simple in story and form (embellished only by a gorgeous Yo La Tengo soundtrack), Old Joy nevertheless provides a striking meditation on things like time, aging, and the loss of idealism.

11) Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2003): Truly one of the most original films of the decade, both in its soundstage-and-chalk stylization and its high-minded allegorical ideals, Dogville is an arthouse epic if I ever saw one. Nicole Kidman as “Grace” is easily one of the juiciest roles of the 2000s, guiding us through a stunning film that on paper should fail spectacularly. But credit Lars von Trier that Dogville transcends pretentious gimmickry and manages to say some of the decade’s most daring and provocative things.

10) Paranoid Park (Gus Van Sant, 2008): This is one of those films that had me silent and stunned for the entire duration of the closing credits. Though highly sensory and aggressively artistic, Paranoid also has a plot—a simple, devastating plot that will grab you and shake you and make you think about the deep interiors of your life that rarely get glimpsed. It’s a totally unique, thoroughly American masterpiece of the cinematic form that demands to be seen in HD and surround sound.

9) Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001): You don’t watch a David Lynch film because it makes sense; You watch it because it rings true. And with Muholland Drive–a film of extraordinary beauty, mystery and sadness–Lynch is at his truest. Aided by a breakthrough performance by Naomi Watts, Drive takes the audience deep into the subconscious interiors of Hollywood and the human condition. The “Silencio” interlude–among other moments in the film–is absolutely unforgettable.

8) There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007): There Will Be Blood is an American masterpiece–a Citizen Kane for the postmodern Net-generation. It’s a stunning, thoroughly modern work of art that paints a stark picture of what happens when greedy capitalism and power-mongering is bedfellow with something so contrary as Christianity. As the title forebodes, the results—for all parties involved—will not be pretty. Though not a political film in the traditional sense, Blood nevertheless acutely captures the blood-oil-Iraq-evangelicals-capitalism zeitgeist of Oughts-era America.

7) I’m Not There (Todd Haynes, 2007): This Bob Dylan biopic is not an easy film by any means, but it is a work of art. There is a lot to admire about the film’s style (cinematography, period costumes, stunning editing) and its acting (Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere and especially Cate Blanchett), but the brilliance of I’m Not There is far less quantifiable. Just as the film—through the case study of Bob Dylan and the 60s—shows us how identity is an elusive thing in postmodernity, so too does it evade any typical conventions of story and cinema. Like the era in which it exists, I’m Not There is made up of disparate images, moments, sounds, feelings, frustrations—small pieces loosely joined by the fragmenting, universal quest for identity.

6) Moulin Rouge! (Baz Luhrmann, 2001): On the level of pure madcap entertainment, this is a brilliant film. But on a conceptual and technical level (i.e. fearlessly hyper-speed editing, audaciously anachronistic musical numbers, songs actually sung by actors!), Moulin Rouge is simply genius. It’s a risky film (as Luhrmann’s always are) that works as a mythic love story but also a pop culture pastiche, culling together a century of sights, sounds, glitz and glamour to forge an explosively cinematic feast for the senses.

5) Before Sunset (Richard Linklater, 2004): This film, essentially an extended conversation between Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, is perhaps the most elegantly urgent film of our increasingly anxious historical moment. It’s about not letting things slip away in a world where second chances—where nothing, really—is guaranteed. Hawke and Delpy are the best romantic movie pair of the decade as they stroll along, in real-time, at Paris-at-sunset, talking life and philosophy and what has transpired for them in the decade since they last met (in 1995’s Before Sunrise). It’s simple, yes. But in a decade that has been anything but, “simple” is a welcome attribute.

4) United 93 (Paul Greengrass, 2006): 9/11 is the defining event of the 2000s, and United 93 is the best filmic representation of it. The documentary-style drama brings us viscerally back to the terror of that day, offering a disturbing glimpse inside the hijacked flight 93 as well as a resonant look at the unfolding chaos on the ground. As a painstakingly objective historical document of the decade’s most important day, this film is a triumph. As a heart-pounding, sweaty-palmed thriller about what existence becomes when teetering on the edge of non-existence, United 93 is a nearly unparalleled achievement.

3) The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Peter Jackson, 2001-2003): Taken as a trilogy, this WAS the decade in blockbuster filmmaking. Its unprecedented scale (three films shot back to back, totalling over ten hours of final film), coupled with Jackson’s meticulous artistry and the able hands of a fine ensemble cast, made these films more than just epic fantasy adventures; They are masterpieces of contemporary Hollywood filmmaking. I still remember where I saw each of these films for the first time, and where I saw each for the second and third time, etc. The films were a cultural event and are firmly engraved in the annuls of “Ought” history.

2) The New World (Terrence Malick, 2005): Malick’s fourth film–and arguably his most sprawling and fully realized–is an epic tale of love, life, growth and nature, set against an American orgins story: The legend of Pocohantas. But it’s not a film about what happens. It’s about what is. In a way that few directors can, Malick confronts us with the thingness of things–the reality of a flock of birds, or a lightening bolt, or a corsetted dress. It’s a film of poetic abstraction that expresses a universe of cohesion by stitching together tidbits of light and longing, in the same way that William Blake saw the whole world in a grain of sand. It challenges our notions of what a film should be, eschewing traditional norms of storytelling while opening the form up to new expressive potential.

1) Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003): There’s a brief interlude in the middle of this film in which Scarlett Johansson’s character sits against the window of her Tokyo hotel room, looking out on the gray, foreign skyline. As an instrumental Squarepusher song plays, a tender handheld camera gracefully surveys the scene–taking in the bird’s eye view of the city but also the figure of Johansson in the foreground. The camera’s attention seems torn between the force of the chaotic city (graciously subdued by the protective layer of glass) and the humanity of this lonely feminine figure. Simple and true as it is, this sequence captures the dialectical essence of Sofia Coppola’s breathtaking film. It’s a film about the triumph of intimacy in the face of crowdnessness, fleeting human connection against the villains of loneliness and time. It’s a film that–through exquisite mastery of sight and sound–viscerally binds us both to the joy and despair these characters (Johansson and Bill Murray) feel. By the end, as the Jesus and Mary Chain serenades a ghostly whisper tour of Tokyo at sunrise, we feel a sort of boozy morning-after solemnity. But we also feel the thrill of having broken through–just for a moment–the 21st century melee of arcade lights and existential anonymity.

The countdown continues! For 100-76, click here. For 75-51, click here.

50) All the Real Girls (David Gordon Green, 2003): David Gordon Green (aka mini Malick) got much acclaim for this film, which starred the then little known Zooey Deschanel and Paul Schneider. It’s the best breakup film of the decade (sorry (500) Days of Summer!).

49) Amelie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2001): This was the foreign film that made everyone fall in love with Paris. Again. It also defined a highly color-saturated, “magic realist” style that would be oft-imitated in subsequent years.

48) Ballast (Lance Hammer, 2008): No one saw Ballast, but it’s one of the decade’s best independent American films. Watch the trailer. The film is a thing of quiet beauty that begs to be experienced.

47) Thirteen Conversations About One Thing (Jill Sprecher, 2001): There’s a decidedly melancholy tone and Edward Hopper-esque look to this “interlocking stories” ensemble film, but it ends up being far from just another artsy downer.

46) Marie Antoinette (Sofia Coppola, 2006): The colors, textures, and indulgent opulence of this film would be annoying if it wasn’t all so absolutely fitting and perfectly executed. A classic story retold through Sofia Coppola’s delicate and distinctive 80s shoegazer lens.

45) Black Hawk Down (Ridley Scott, 2001): Though it had the unfortunate luck to be released just months after 9/11, this stunning action film remains one of the best, most punch-you-in-the-gut depictions of modern urban warfare that we have.

44) Wall E (Andrew Stanton, 2008): Pixar topped themselves yet again with this cautionary tale/robot love story. More than just a triumph of the craft (the best animated movie of the decade), Wall E is a film that speaks to the cultural moment with grace and provocative insight.

43) 25^th Hour (Spike Lee, 2002): Shot in the shadows of the blue-light specters of the World Trade Center, Spike Lee’s film eloquently captures the complicated post-9/11 mood of America. Ostensibly about one man’s (Edward Norton) last night before heading off to prison, 25th Hour is really a letter to NYC and America—full of all the rage, love, sadness, and hope that Lee so keenly conjures up in his films.

42) The Road (John Hillcoat, 2009): Based on the novel (by Cormac McCarthy) that is arguably the definitive piece of fiction for the 2000s, The Road is a triumph of cinematic adaptation that manages to visually render a book some called unfilmable and offer us an unsettling forecast of what nightmares may come if we don’t “carry the fire” and pass it on to the next generation.

41) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004): This Charlie Kaufman-penned film is as unconventional as romances get, what with its trippy examinations of memory, time, and psychology. And yet it all comes together perfectly, capturing quirky blips of spellbinding truth that more conventional films could never offer.

40) Children of Men (Alfonso Cuarón, 2006): Heart-pounding and compelling from start to finish, this action/thriller is more than just a showcase for ear-ringing bombs and spectacularly elaborate single-take gun battles.  It’s a film that jolts us awake to the miracle of life.

39) Traffic (Steven Soderbergh, 2000): Probably the best drug-themed film of the decade, and Soderbergh’s most significant contribution to cinema since Sex, Lies & Videotape. It was pivotal in the way that it energized the “social problem” film genre and proved that films about complicated issues could be made stylishly and for mainstream audiences.

38) Silent Light (Carlos Reygades, 2007): This film about a Mennonite love triangle set in Northern Mexico is original to the core (aside from a very literal nod to Dreyer’s Ordet) and shockingly visceral. The opening and closing shots are truly unforgettable.

37) Kill Bill Vol 1 (Quentin Tarantino, 2003): More indulgent and outrageous than Vol. 2, but even more stylish and painfully entertaining. Who can forget the epic fight scene climax in Japan or the “let’s have us a knife fight” matchup with Uma and Vivica?

36) Letters From Iwo Jima (Clint Eastwood, 2006): This “other side of the story” companion piece to Flags of Our Fathers puts the stunning maturity and storytelling genius of Eastwood on full display. There was no more heartbreaking war film than this in the 2000s.

35) The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Andrew Dominik, 2007): Taking a page out of Malick’s stylebook, Dominik renders a contemplative existential portrait of Jesse James through images and sound, not so much with words. Brad Pitt is at his best, but the real star is Casey Affleck, whose “cowardly” Robert Ford proves to be a most unexpected tour de force.

34) In the Bedroom (Todd Field, 2001): Tom Wilkinson and Sissy Spacek are at the top of their game in this gripping, stays-with-you domestic drama about normal people reacting to abnormal trauma.

33) Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood, 2004): The best of Eastwood’s late career prolific period, Million Dollar Baby is a sports movie (boxing) that packs a real punch. The third act takes a turn unlike anything I’ve seen this decade.

32) The Royal Tenenbaums (Wes Anderson, 2001): Wes Anderson’s most complete, satisfying cinematic entrée, Tenenbaums is a gloriously somber iteration of the sort of hipster/retro nostalgia that has defined the 00s. Anderson’s hyper-stylized, immaculately arranged art direction and mise-en-scene launched innumerable trends in both film and television.

31) Summer Hours (Olivier Assayas, 2009): This exquisite French film is about the beauty and meaning of life, and how it is so much more than objects and mementos and the bric-a-brac of our everyday accumulations. It’s about the hours we spend with our families, running around on a summer evening in a forest or field, sipping wine or eating quiche. It’s about the love and passion and sadness we share.

30) A.I. (Steven Spielberg, 2001): This film ushered in the 21st century with a particularly 21st century gimmick: the mashup. The Spielberg/Kubrick film is also thoroughly modern in its dystopic imagery and technophobic preoccupations: the all-too-immediate question of what happens when our technology becomes more real to us than our fellow humans.

29) The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan, 2008): Not only the best comic book movie ever, but one of the best action/blockbuster films as well. Heath Ledger is one thing (a big thing), but this movie is impressive on so many levels. It’s reassuring that films like this can still get made—super smart films that can still make $700 million.

28) Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000): Before The Dark Knight, Nolan gave us this breakthrough indie hit—a told-backwards film that revels in unorthodox structure and kicked the door wide open for a decade of non-linear narrative exploration.

27) Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (Peter Weir, 2003): In terms of historical costume epics, Weir’s elegant seafaring drama delivered all the goods. It’s an exciting, beautifully made, well-acted film with profound themes and the increasingly rare (but wonderful) blend of regal grandiosity and intimate character development.

26) L’enfant (Jean-Pierre Dardenne/Luc Dardenne, 2005): Shocking both in how spare it is and how affecting it becomes, L’enfant is one of the true gems of recent European cinema. As usual for the Dardennes, the film withholds catharsis until the final few frames, leaving us abruptly stunned, paralyzed, and unsure what to feel as the screen goes black.

2010 may still be a month away, but the new year has already begun. Yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent–the first season in the church calendar year. Everything has reset, with newness and hope the only items on the agenda.

It was a crazy week and a crazy year for me. So many friends and family have lost their jobs. So many deaths, divorces, other bad things. Stresses keep coming, overwhelming as they always are. Mistakes made, plans foiled, Michael Jackson dead. Old and new friends enrich my life. Old and new struggles carry on.

But God with us. Emmanuel. We have reason to push on in faith.

Advent. It’s about anticipating and reflecting upon the mystery that is the Incarnation: the nearly incomprehensible moment when God entered human history by becoming a baby on earth.

God is with us. He’s not just some far-off abstraction or disembodied clockmaker idea. He became one of us. A human. Callouses, stomachaches, blood. And not only that, but he came as a baby! He could have appeared out of thin air as a 21 year old, or as a 30-year-old prophet ready for some serious ministry. But he chose to start where everyone else starts: in the womb. His incarnation was always about working through—not outside of—creation to reveal himself to us in ways we could understand. And a baby who is born and grows up and dies is something we can understand. It was God coming down to our level to bless our unfortunate little existence by becoming part of it. He came to be with us.

Advent reminds us that, in the midst of everyday struggles, we must affirm the reality of the everyday Incarnation. Jesus lived this life too. He also experienced it on good days and bad. He was rained on too. He probably had migraines occasionally. You better believe he knew suffering.

I love that Advent simultaneously forces us away from ourselves and our petty problems while also, in a way, affirming them. It’s a season of denying our self and our possibility in the face of the wholly Other that is the mysterious, Incarnate Emmanuel. But it’s also a chance for us to focus, to synthesize our various desires, issues, concerns, and identities into a cohesive oneness with the bewildering fact that we are here, and so is God. He is with us. There’s a reason why we sing “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.” We share a planet—the dirt, air, water, DNA—with the creator of the universe. This is the most empowering and humbling fact of history, and the weight of it is immense. It is the reason Advent is historically a very solemn season: because the Incarnation cannot be taken lightly.

As I enter into Advent this year, I’m burdened by just as many hopes and fears as the next guy. There is pain and regret in my heart, love and confusion, physical and emotional imperfection, and immense exhaustion. I sometimes just want to drink eggnog or mulled wine and listen to Over the Rhine’s Darkest Night of the Year (for the record, probably the best Christmas album of all time) while languishing in self-pity and world weariness as stocks and bombs carry the torch of history’s tumultuous march.

But Advent accepts all that. It thrives on unsettledness, uncertainty, despair. Which is kind of bleak for a holiday season that is typically thought of as the merriest season of all. Until we recognize that our pain makes Advent all the more meaningful—to look forward, expectantly, longingly, to the moment when all the pieces (of our lives, of history, of heaven and earth) come together in a monstrous cymbal crash that reverberates in every corner and cranny of the concert hall.

Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday. It’s a day when we celebrate the bounty of what we have, with family and friends, turkey and football. But in the midst of the gluttony and laziness and consumerism (black Friday!) of the weekend, it’s sometimes hard to really see the forest for the trees when it comes to our blessings. It’s hard to really get a perspective on how good we have it.

I have an easy way to fix that problem this Thanksgiving: Go see The Road.

This is a film that reminds you that even in the darkest of times, there is much to be thankful for. It reminds you that we are thankfully NOT living in a post-apocalyptic hell, scavenging for food and avoiding cannibals in a world devoid of sunlight and plant life. It’s a film that will reminds us never to take things like food, water, clothes, or shoes for granted again.

Plus, it’s just a phenomenal movie (even if not “enjoyable” to watch in the strictest sense). I’ve seen the film twice and would love to see it again. I wrote a review for Christianity Today, and also interviewed the director, John Hillcoat.

Take two hours out of your holiday weekend to see this film. You’ll be thankful you did.

The countdown continues! For 100-76, click here.

75) Match Point (Woody Allen, 2005): This highly plotted, thoroughly British morality play is the film that reminded everyone that Woody Allen’s best filmmaking days might not be behind him after all.

74) The Others (Alejandro Amenabar, 2001): For my dime, one of the scariest movies of the decade. Great Henry James-ish mood and a dynamo performance from Nicole Kidman.

73) Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, 2008): Michelle Williams delivers one of the decade’s best, most under-appreciated performances in a tragic film that makes a little story go a very long way.

72) A Serious Man (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2009): A striking, complicated, “you’ll be thinking about this for a while” film about God, suffering, and having faith like Job. The Coens’ second best film of the decade.

71) Half Nelson (Ryan Fleck, 2006): Ryan Gosling delivers a surprising performance in this tiny little indie that manages to wrestle with big ideas (Hegel! dialectics!) even while it plays out on an intimate interpersonal stage.

70) The Proposition (John Hillcoat, 2005): Before he directed The Road, John Hillcoat made this moody, visceral, violent Australian western. Featuring an intense score by Nick Cave and great acting by the likes of Guy Pearce and Danny Huston.

69) Amores Perros (Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2000): Translation: “Love’s a bitch.” And that’s surely the takeaway from this dour film. But the execution is nothing short of cinematic genius.

68) Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, 2009): As audacious as ever for Tarantino, with some of the tensest and most well-developed scenes he’s ever concocted. 

67) Inland Empire (David Lynch, 2006): This all-digital, hallucinatory epic (it looks like a home video from hell) is a three-hour montage of nightmarish postmodern images and rabbit trails—an assemblage of 21st century anxiety and scatterbrained vignettes of the most mind-bending sort.

66) Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly, 2001): Richard Kelly’s auspicious sci-fi debut film has proven to be one of the decade’s major cult classics.

65) Finding Neverland (Marc Forster, 2004): As tear-jerkers go, this was one of the decade’s most palatable. A great story-behind-the-story with winning performances from Johnny Depp, Kate Winslet, and Freddie Highmore.

64) The Class (Laurent Cantet, 2008): This fascinating slice-of-life look inside a complicated social ecosystem (the classroom of a Paris working class public school) is as real as a non-documentary gets.

63) Grizzly Man (Werner Herzog, 2005): Was there a stranger, more compelling documentary character this decade than Timothy Treadwell, as portrayed through the fascinating lens of Werner Herzog? I don’t think so.

62) Personal Velocity (Rebecca Miller, 2002): The first and best film from Rebecca Miller (daughter or playwright Arthur Miller and wife to Daniel Day-Lewis) is an eloquent and subtle look inside the everyday struggles of three women.

61) Rachel Getting Married (Jonathan Demme, 2008): One of the best wedding movies ever made, with standout performances from Anne Hathaway, Debra Winger and Rosemarie DeWitt.

60) City of God (Fernando Meirelles, Katia Lund 2003): This harrowing look inside the urban nightmare of Rio de Janeiro’s slums is less flashy and yet more powerful than its Oscar-winning counterpart Slumdog Millionaire.

59) Collateral (Michael Mann, 2004): No film this decade has captured nighttime L.A. better than this thrilling look inside the criminal underworld of the City of Angels.

58) Yi Yi (Edward Yang, 2000): This sprawling family drama from the late Taiwanese director Edward Yang is a masterpiece of wonder in the mundane rhythms of life–a sort of Tokyo Story for Taipei.

57) Gladiator (Ridley Scott, 2000): This Oscar-winning film single-handedly revived the sword-and-sandal epic. Despite how it has been coopted by youth pastors and the like, Gladiator remains a stirring, well-acted adventure.

56) Me, You, and Everyone We Know (Miranda July, 2005): This quirky little film from artist Miranda July is all about the odd mutations of human communication and connection in a digital age. What happens when our computer-mediated relationships turn out to be less than appealing in the real world?

55) Best in Show (Christopher Guest, 2000): Most definitely one of the best flat-out comedies of the decade, this mockumentary features a superb and hilarious cast that includes Jane Lynch, Jennifer Coolidge, Parker Posey and Fred Willard.

54) Kill Bill Vol 2 (Quentin Tarantino, 2004): Most Tarantino films are about 80% ludicrous, violent pop art and 20% insightful and humane. In this film, the breakdown is more like 50/50. It’s a surprisingly affective piece of kitsch.

53) Munyurangabo (Lee Isaac Chung, 2009): Set in Rwanda, this is a film about the effects of genocide, tragedy, and war… but also about friendship and renewal and the life-giving purity of nature. It’s tender, mysterious, quiet, and one of the best films about Africa I’ve ever seen.

52) Flags of Our Fathers (Clint Eastwood, 2006): The first of a pair of films about WWII’s Battle for Iwo Jima, Flags of Our Fathers is a sobering look at the horrors of war, propaganda, and racism. Features a memorable, heartbreaking performance by Adam Beach as Ira Hayes.

51) Zodiac (David Fincher, 2007): There’s something deeply unsettling about this true-story film, creepily told with polished digital elegance by David Fincher. Great performances, striking visuals, and a mood that will make your skin crawl. 

As 2009 winds down, listmaking winds up. Not just for the year, but for the DECADE. I’ve already made my list of the decade’s best albums, but now it is time to evaluate the best in my personal favorite media form: Movies. I spent weeks compiling a list of every film I loved that came out in the 2000s, and then spent a few days narrowing it down to 100. I will countdown my picks over four posts, starting today with the first 25 and ending on my birthday, December 3, with the top 25. Enjoy!

100) Broken Flowers (Jim Jarmusch, 2005): Though Coffee and Cigarettes (2003) was great, Flowers is Jim Jarmusch’s best film of this decade. A gorgeously made road movie with a fantastic cast (Bill Murray, Julie Delpy, Tilda Swinton, Jesica Lange, Chloë Sevigny), Flowers is an open-ended mediation on love, regret, and America.

99) My Best Friend (Patrice Leconte, 2007): One of the best movies about male friendship I’ve ever seen, and one of two films by French director Patrice Leconte on this list.

98) Waking Life (Richard Linklater, 2001): More than just an eye-popping demonstration of the then-new rotoscope animation technique, this talky film is brimful of ideas and 21^st century philosophical chitchat.

97) Sideways (Alexander Payne, 2004): One of the best comedies of the decade for so many reasons… A truer film about forty-something wine snobs was never made.

96) Road to Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002): Sam Mendes’ follow-up to American Beauty provided a striking, moody take on Chicago crime land. Tom Hanks and Paul Newman share some memorably subtle moments (the piano scene!) and Conrad Hall’s photography is among the decade’s best.

95) The Hurt Locker (Kathryn Bigelow, 2009): The fist (only?) great film about the current Iraq war. It’s white-knuckled, impressively acted, and refreshingly apolitical.

94) The Village (M. Night Shyamalan, 2004): Though most of us saw the end coming, this film wins on style and acting alone. Bryce Dallas Howard and Joaquin Phoenix have amazing chemistry.

93) The King of Kong (Seth Gordon, 2007): One of the best documentaries of the decade, this film about competitive arcade gaming has all the best elements of comedy, drama, even thriller… not to mention plenty of insights into human nature.

92) Casino Royale (Martin Campbell, 2006): The reboot of the James Bond franchise was fresh, stylish, and one of the best action films of the decade.

91) Pride & Prejudice (Joe Wright, 2005): This surprisingly mature adaptation of Jane Austen’s classic featured great acting, beautiful visuals, and some memorably elaborate single-take tracking shots.

90) The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (David Fincher, 2008): An exquisitely rendered, peculiar mediation on the fact that our lives—whether lived forward or backward—are lived in time.

89) Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Alfonso Cuaron, 2004): The best of the Harry Potter blockbuster franchise, which has defined the decade more than any one movie brand.

88) Friday Night Lights (Peter Berg, 2004): Though I might suggest that the TV show is even better, the film that preceded it was pretty dang good. Best sports movie of the decade.

87) Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (Adam McKay, 2004): Yes, it’s ridiculous. Ridiculously classic. So many catchphrases—and even Ron Burgundy’s way of speaking—have become incorporated into the comic parlance of our generation.

86) Rescue Dawn (Werner Herzog, 2007): One of the most underseen and underrated films of the decade. Herzog and star Christian Bale are at their best in this twisted, unsettling, strangely beautiful Vietnam war film.

85) Southland Tales (Richard Kelly, 2006): Yes, it’s true that most everyone hated this movie. But most films that are truly great are truly loathed by many. This film managed to summarize its moment so well for me—in an appropriately messy, kitschy, pomo sort of way.

84) Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002): Scorsese’s ode to New York/meditation on violence was more than just a mind-blowing showcase for Daniel Day Lewis. It’s a bloody good historical epic with some fierce filmmaking behind it.

83) Elephant (Gus Van Sant, 2003): This Columbine-inspired art film didn’t offer any easy answers (or easy questions) about teenage violence. And yet as a stylistic exercise and abstract mood piece, it was revelatory.

82) Ocean’s 11 (Steven Soderbergh, 2001): What’s an indie film icon like Steven Soderbergh doing directing a popcorn remake of a rat pack classic? Reinventing Hollywood A-list blockbusters, that’s what.

81) The Queen (Stephen Frears, 2006): Though it’s almost too perfect, The Queen must be acknowledged on this list. Not only is it a spot-on character study (aided by Helen Mirren’s astonishing performance); it’s also a fascinating exploration of media, celebrity, and politics in the tabloid era.

80) The Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson, 2003): Say what you will about this controversial film, but you have to admit that it’s something to behold. Mel might have been a smidge more restrained, but overall—and divorced from all the politics and religious commercialization of it—this is a film of impressive artistry.

79) About Schmidt (Alexander Payne, 2002): Jack Nicholson’s best recent performance was in this fantastic comedy/drama from Alexander Payne. It’s a wonderfully melancholy film with extremely poignant moments and a great “trails west” Americana vibe.

78) Bright Star (Jane Campion, 2009): This John Keats romance film definitely ranks in the top ten on the decade’s “most beautiful to look at” list. But it also has ideas and painfully true insights about love and loss, adding to the visceral impact of the well-lensed images.

77) The Incredibles (Brad Bird, 2004): One of Pixar’s standout classics in the last decade; It’s a film that thrills, inspires, and just makes you feel great about life.

76) Into the Wild (Sean Penn, 2007): Sean Penn’s film version of the amazing book by Jon Kracauer perfectly captures its outdoorsy, existential spirit. It’s a strikingly earnest film with an adventurous pulse most of us can resonate with.

A film about the final days of Russian author Leo Tolstoy (War and Peace, Anna Karenina) may sound like a bore to the average moviegoer, and indeed, The Last Station is admittedly a very bookish, Merchant Ivory sort of film. But it’s also utterly engrossing, superbly acted, and full of big ideas that ring very true. It was a joy to watch this film and I’d be surprised if it doesn’t pick up a respectable amount of awards in the coming months.

The film boasts one of the best casts of the year and features incredible performances from Christopher “Captain Von Trapp” Plummer as Tolstoy and Helen Mirren as his wife Sofya. James McAvoy also turns in one of his best performances, as the wide-eyed protégé/secretary of Tolstoy. Paul Giamatti is also quite good in a villainous role.

Based on the novel by Jay Parini, The Last Station is a film about the complex two-facedness of love; It’s about passion and devotion and the tension between what we think and what we feel. It’s about how love is often simultaneously our greatest source of joy and suffering, and how sometimes the love of an ideology can eclipse the love of another human being (to the detriment of all).

The film is about Tolstoy, a brilliant thinker and writer who at the start of the 20th century has a worldwide reputation and fan base. There is a growing “Tolstoyan” movement (a sort of utopian Christian anarchism) of which he is the figurehead. He is larger-than-life icon and celebrity, and yet he is also a husband and father. His wife (Mirren) wants him to love her first, and yet she fears that his “work,” his ideas and legacy, are a higher priority for him. She loves him deeply and wants him for her own, but near the end of his life he has become “the world’s.” The film is about the pain of loving someone so much that you don’t want to share them, and the problem of feeling closer to a conviction or ideal than an actual physical person or reality.

The Last Station tackles huge ideas that resonate deeply, but it does so in a way that never feels didactic. It’s an entertaining film, first and foremost. And yet it’s all so true. I think all of us deal with this tension between wanting to love and be loved but also wanting to make a difference in the world. Sometimes those desires are compatible and sometimes they are not. Relationships often fall victim in an individual’s pursuit of significance. Does it have to be that way? I doubt it. But more often than not it’s a truism of life: We can’t have our cake and eat it too. There’s only so much energy and will in any given life. Should it be focused on our love or our work? It’s a deep and unsettling question, and The Last Station is one of the best films I’ve seen that asks it.

Why do I always forget how blessed and lucky I am? Why do I always have a hard time recognizing the many things I should be thankful for? How every little thing in my life—both easy and hard, painful and pleasurable—has been orchestrated by God to form a purpose far grander than my own ambitions?

I think part of it is that I’ve grown up in a world of entitlement. Ours is a world of debilitating entitlement. We are raised to assume that we have the inalienable right to be happy and healthy, that we are entitled to money and security and insurance and freedom to do and say whatever we want. We think it’s our prerogative, our destiny, our right. And so when good things happen to us we’re liable to shrug it off as “our due” instead of being humbled to a place of deep gratitude.

But newsflash: we aren’t entitled to anything.

EVERYTHING is a gift from God. Every good thing is a grace, given not out of obligation but love.

When I realized this, it was so utterly freeing. It allowed me to pull back from my life and see it from beyond my own small sphere. Turns out I’m just a miniscule part of a much bigger picture; turns out there is a purpose to my life, but it has much less to do with my immediate satisfaction than the success of the “bigger picture.”

Occasionally I have moments—little God-given epiphanies—when all of this hits me like some sort of heavenly ton of bricks. Last Saturday was one of those moments. I found myself in a five star hotel, eating amazing (and free) food, interviewing the filmmakers of The Road (a film of extreme deprivation, by the way: It really makes one thankful for what we have). Then I met a fellow journalist who—in a roundabout way—might be responsible for starting the chain of events 6 years ago that eventually led to me being allowed to write a book about hipster Christianity. It was a weird and wonderful experience of grace—a “full circle” moment of connection in which God opened my eyes to just how carefully he crafts every detail and weaves every occurrence in life together for his good.

In that moment, I was overwhelmed with thanksgiving, and it was such a sweet feeling. To be humbled to that point of immense gratitude and smallness is nothing like the blow to pride you might take it to be. On the contrary, it’s the fullest and happiest I’d felt in a long time. To realize that I have no right or entitlement to any of this—five star hotel film journalism or whatever the case may be—and yet have been given it in so deliberate and complicated a manner… it’s just so much to take in.

I think it’s true that, as John Piper often says, “God is most glorified when we are most satisfied in him.” And maybe that is where the fullness and joy of thanksgiving comes from—we are feeling the spilling over of God’s glory. His pleasure in our satisfaction is compounding our joy.

The funny thing about grace is that it just keeps coming, even when we don’t recognize it or pridefully mistake it for something we deserve. Of God there is so much to know and love and fear and wonder about. But on cool November mornings like this, in my warm house with some coffee on and the residual smell of bacon in the air, there’s nothing sweeter but to know that he gives. And he gives and he gives.