Jeremy Beck

Jeremy Beck is the editor-in-chief of MovieManifesto. He watches more movies and television than he probably should.

Oscars 2013: Nomination Predictions

Jeremy BeckOscars

“Winging it” has never been my strength. I believe in data, in probability, in hard science. I believe that decision-making is a process of ruthless optimization, whereby one weighs the relevant costs and benefits before selecting the appropriate option. I believe in regression to the mean, the unimpeachable truth of mathematics, and the Gambler’s Fallacy. And I generally believe that, if you think rationally about a question long enough, you can arrive at the correct answer. It’s why I spend hours crafting email-screeds to my friends railing about atrocious decisions in sports, like Mike McCarthy choosing to kick the extra point in a two-point game with 11 minutes left, or John Farrell bringing Brayan Villarreal into a tie game
with the bases loaded in the ninth inning while Koji Uehara plays Scrabble in the bullpen. It’s also why my friends in Colorado lovingly (loathingly?) refer to me as a robot. Much like the sneering spice merchant in Game of Thrones, I trust in logic, not passion.

Of course, that spice merchant got his fucking throat cut, suggesting that logic can only get you so far. And really, predicting the Oscars has always been more art than science. As tempting as it can be to pore over the list of winners from, say, the St. Louis Gateway Film Critics Association and attempt to form a conclusion about The Great Gatsby‘s odds of landing a Best Production Design nomination, in the end, I’m never going to be able peer into the collective psyche of the 6,000-plus members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and learn what the hell they’re thinking. Plus, I just started recapping each of the 92 movies I watched in 2013, so I haven’t been able to delve into the nitty-gritty of the Oscar race with my usual demented zeal. Read More

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The Unmemorables: 2013’s Least Memorable Movies, from Assange to Smaug (Part I)

Jeremy BeckFeatures

About a year ago, film critic Scott Tobias wrote a piece called “The ‘Gentleman’s F’ and the Scourge of Deliberate Mediocrity”. His thesis was that “bad movies are better than useless ones”, and while I don’t necessarily agree with his specific examples, I can see his overarching point. Bad movies may be horribly executed, but at least they’re distinctive and, in their own way, defiantly memorable. Useless movies, on the other hand, are bland, slothful, and scrupulously inoffensive. They’re rarely bad enough to induce anger, but neither are they good enough to inspire debate. They are simply consumed and then discarded, and to the extent that I remember them, it’s with the wistful knowledge that in watching them, I basically wasted two hours of my life.

And so, the following collective represents 2013’s Unmemorables: the Manifesto’s view of the least memorable movies of the year. None of these films is truly terrible—a few are even mildly enjoyable, at least in part—but they produced nothing in the way of an emotional response, be it love or loathing. I simply watched them, and then I forgot about them. And such ambivalence is, in its own quiet way, a more damning reaction than outright rage.

So here’s to the cinematic sinners who sinned by not trying. In alphabetical order: Read More

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The Worst Movies of 2013: Man of Steel, and Other Atrocities

Jeremy BeckFeatures

The greatest advantage of being an amateur movie critic rather than a professional is simple: I’m not forced to see movies that I don’t actually want to see. True, I dutifully attempt to see every movie nominated for an Oscar, which occasionally induces a sense of obligation (did I really Netflix a French animated film called A Cat in Paris?), but for the most part, I watch movies because I want to, not because I’m paid to. So, until the Mr. Provis of the technology generation bestows the Manifesto with his generosity and turns this wee blog into a for-profit enterprise (note to silent benefactors: I’m still available), I can continue to avoid the truly execrable pictures that litter the multiplex each year.

As a result, I can’t possibly pretend to author a list of the actual worst movies of 2013, as I exercised my discretion and passed on such supposed fiascos as The Big Wedding, Grown Ups 2, and Movie 43. I can, however, denigrate the small sampling of this year’s films that I actively disliked. Given my selectivity, it’s a predictably short list: As of this writing, I’ve seen 85 theatrical releases in 2013, and I only found the following eight to be genuinely contemptible. There’s assuredly more dross out there, but for now, you’ll have to settle for me warning you away from these wretched offerings. In no particular order: Read More

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The Best Movies of 2012 (Part II)

Jeremy BeckTop 10 Lists

In case you missed it, you can find Part I of the Manifesto’s countdown of the 16 best movies of 2012 here. And now, the final octet.

8. Silver Linings Playbook. Until he made The Fighter, David O. Russell was pretty much the last director I could have imagined helming a pure crowd-pleaser. But while that boxing flick was a sturdy enough piece of genre execution elevated by a tremendous performance from Christian Bale, it nevertheless represented a step backward for Russell, sacrificing the angularity and unpredictability of his earlier work in favor of stock characters and easy sentiment. Silver Linings Playbook doesn’t shy away from uplift—it’s arguably the most thrillingly happy movie of 2012—but it derives its emotional impact through a delightfully haphazard mix of screwball comedy and disturbing family drama, as well as a provocative examination of mental illness. Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence make a pretty pair, but each suggests real sadness; Cooper’s constant gesticulation conveys the whirlwind of thoughts assaulting his fraying mind, while Lawrence’s flashing eyes and uptilted chin mask quiet vulnerability and heartache. This frenzy of feeling culminates in a landmark scene, which Russell stages with symphonic élan, in which Lawrence goes toe-to-toe with the legendary Robert De Niro (in his best form in years) and shifts her long-simmering passion into overdrive. On one level, it’s just a bunch of crazy Philadelphians rehashing the Eagles. On another, it’s a madcap marvel, a winning illustration of how movies can take pain and fury and desperation, mix them together, and turn them into joy.

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