Three directors made the best films of their careers in 2002 — Todd Haynes, Hayao Miyazaki and Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund. Well, that's four directors, but between them, they made three movies ...
In addition, Peter Jackson reached the midpoint in his mammoth Lord of the Rings trilogy. And some guy named Steven Spielberg made not one but two really good movies.
Lots to choose from.
I went with Miyazaki because the only person who plausibly rivals him for the title of history's greatest animator is Walt Disney. No Miyazaki, no Japanese anime, at least not on this side of the Pacific.
By the way, here's one of my favorite quotes from the late great Roger Ebert about animation generally and Miyazaki specifically:
"Already I have heard from a few people who don't want to see it "because it's Japanese." This is solid-gold ignorance. "Is it only dubbed?" I was asked. You dummy! All animated films are dubbed! Little Nemo can’t really speak!"
The man was a genius. Miss him every Friday ...
My choices are noted with a ★. A tie is indicated with a ✪. Historical Oscar winners are noted with a ✔. Best foreign-language picture winners are noted with an ƒ. Best animated feature winners are noted with an @. A historical winner who won in a different category is noted with a ✱.
My brother and I were somewhere in Ohio on the last leg of our drive from Seattle to Baltimore when my good friend Mister Muleboy texted me with the sad news that film critic Roger Ebert had passed away.
"My favorite critic," I wrote back. "Great influence. Last of his kind. He will be missed."
All of which is true. Many people have already offered up their memories and appreciation of the man and his work, and I can't add much to it. I will say I think what I liked best about Ebert is that he so obviously loved movies, loved people, loved life. His joyful passion came through every word he ever wrote or spoke.
You'd think that first trait—loving movies—would be a prerequisite for a film critic, but if you read enough writing about movies, you know it's not. Indeed, some critics (professional and otherwise) are so soured on the subject, you'd think they were writing at gunpoint.
Not Ebert. I get the impression that at the end of a long day of previewing movies for the Chicago Sun-Times, he relaxed by watching another movie, probably in the company of someone who liked talking about movies. His enthusiasm couldn't help but rub off on you.
And when I say he was the last of his kind, I mean that when a few years ago illness first forced him to take a long break from reviewing movies, I realized there was no single, unifying voice out there waiting to take his place. There'll be plenty of movie reviews written without him, but never again, I think, will there be a single starting place when it comes time to read them. He was the touchstone for a generation of movie fans.
Named for Katie-Bar-The-Door, the Katies are "alternate Oscars"—who should have been nominated, who should have won—but really they're just an excuse to write a history of the movies from the Silent Era to the present day.
To see a list of nominees and winners by decade, as well as links to my essays about them, click the highlighted links:
Remember: There are no wrong answers, only movies you haven't seen yet.
The Silent Oscars
And don't forget to check out the Silent Oscars—my year-by-year choices for best picture, director and all four acting categories for the pre-Oscar years, 1902-1927.
Look at me—Joe College, with a touch of arthritis. Are my eyes really brown? Uh, no, they're green. Would we have the nerve to dive into the icy water and save a person from drowning? That's a key question. I, of course, can't swim, so I never have to face it. Say, haven't you anything better to do than to keep popping in here early every morning and asking a lot of fool questions?
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