The Great Dictator

The Great Dictator

In the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Well, here it is; probably the largest gap in my film viewing history – until now, I had never seen Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. Of course I knew well enough about the film, but had never had the cause to seek it out; my days of watching Chaplin seeming to be largely behind me. When I saw that it was a part of the Best Picture field, I was pretty pleased to be given a reason to watch it and fill that particular hole in my viewing, and indeed when I’d gotten to the field of 1940 I knew it would be the final film I would check off from that list. Really, though, it was that it had been so long since my last Chaplin that was of chief worry for me; would I still be able to appreciate and enjoy him and his work, or had the slew of nonstop dramas that I’d seen for the Best Picture odyssey mellowed me too considerably? During my watch, it threatened to at first, but leave it to Chaplin to come through when it matters the most.

Here, Chaplin pulls double-duty in two roles; one, as the dictator of fictional spoof on Nazi Germany known as Tomainia, Adenoid Hynkel, and the other as an unnamed Jewish barber, who happens to bear more than a passing resemblance to Hynkel (go figure) but who couldn’t be more different in personality and character. While Hynkel tries to conquer the world and encounters a myriad of troubles in his quest to do so, the barber is just trying to get by in the ghetto created by Hynkel’s policies. Really, there’s not a whole lot of narrative to this one, being the type of film it is; it stumbles from gag to gag and coincidence to coincidence rather than craft a throughline for events to happen, but that’s what it’s supposed to be doing. I had to admit, when the film started I didn’t think very much of it; the sound design in particular threw me off, the film opting for odd batches of silence where I’d been taught to expect background noise or soundtrack at the very least, and indeed the film’s abrupt jump straight into the war-time gags initially made them unable to land for me. It was a little bit into the film, though, that I’d noticed it was starting to grow on me; by the time of the scene where Hynkel is swayed into world conquest and dances with an inflatable globe, I knew I was watching something particularly special. What finally sunk in about The Great Dictator seems silly enough to say, given that this is a comedy first and foremost and most all are aware of that going into it, but it was that this is supposed to be a satire that escaped me at first glance; when it finally got into my head, the film made a whole lot of sense, especially as it got into the later portions of the picture. Satire is supposed to not just be funny, but a parody of real life, and not just to be a parody for humor’s sake, but to use that parody to say something about the world and/or the state of it, a definition The Great Dictator perfectly captures with Chaplin’s closing monologue, dictated directly to the camera in a blunt reveal that Chaplin is not speaking to the crowds of Tomainia, but to us the viewers. In being a parody, and in being a satire, using comedy to make us understand the world a little better, The Great Dictator succeeds effortlessly.

I guess the best advice I could give to someone looking to fill the same hole in their moviewatching history that I did with this picture is: don’t go into it expecting it to be a great drama, or perfectly made, or for it to wow with incredible production value. This is a picture of importance, not of soul-crushing proselytizing but of lampooning to take the edge off a serious issue to get us to look at it with a clearer head. In short, don’t go into The Great Dictator expecting it to be what it very clearly isn’t, or especially what it’s not supposed to be. Going into this with the right mindset, one will find the magic of Chaplin is still very much alive and well here, even with this being his first ever talking picture. Chaplin, with this, would become the first ever person to be nominated for producing (Best Picture), acting, and writing for a single film at the Academy Awards. Needless to say, he hasn’t lost a step.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

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La La Land

La La Land

Here’s to the fools who dream.

Call me superficial, but I like to end each new batch of 1001 additions on a particularly good or significant note. That said, I knew that La La Land was gonna be my final 1001 film of this year before it even got added, and indeed before I’d even seen it. Having loved Whiplash to a ridiculous degree, I was more than eager for whatever director Damien Chazelle was gunning to do next, so I followed the pre-production of La La Land closely, and I figured that, even with it being a musical, I would enjoy it enough to want to pick it up on Blu-Ray anyways, so I even passed on initially seeing it in theaters. When I finally did pick it up, I tried to go into it with as little ceremony as I could, just in case the film actually let me down and didn’t meet the expectations that a film that had just tied the record for most Oscar nominations for a single film would generate. Well, I learned something that day, and here’s the best way I can put it into words: Sometimes, some films, even the critically beloved ones, just aren’t for everyone. La La Land is entertaining, a hell of a production, and certainly one of the best films of the past year. But it’s not the best, and that ended up being the period at the end of the sentence that was my experience with it.

Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling are Mia and Sebastian, two individuals living in Los Angeles with their own individual dreams of stardom and making things happen based on what the town can offer them. Being in a musical, the two naturally meet up on a few occasions and end up together… but ending up together doesn’t necessarily mean ending up together, especially when individual dreams are involved, and both Mia and Sebastian must try and come to terms with the inevitable clashing of their dream versions of making it in L.A. and the reality of being dreamers in a town that’s ultimately just another real-life town. For what it’s worth, almost everything involved in this production is the top of its respective game; from director Chazelle’s handling of the material, both dream and reality, to the Oscar-winning work with color and camera of Linus Sandgren, to the score and songs by Justin Hurwitz. And let’s absolutely not forget Gosling and Stone, both of which are very nearly note for note perfect, even if their performances in the song-and-dance aspects of the film aren’t exactly Astaire-Rogers level, but it’s enough to get you through the film; Stone’s rendition of the audition song in the third act being what very likely won her the Oscar. The one thing I will say, though, is that I don’t really know why City of Stars was picked out as the choicest song of the film, or why it won the Oscar for Original Song; aside from the actual melody of it, I didn’t really find it to be the centerpiece of the film the way the film so clearly wanted it to be, and from a quality standpoint, I would’ve put my weight behind Audition for Oscar recognition if I were one of the producers.

Here’s the thing, though, about this one: it’s good, it’s actually very good. But that’s it. And what’s more, it’s not the type of very good that compels you to want to watch it several times over, at least for me personally; I picked it up for home viewing and watched it the first time, and since then I actually haven’t had any desire to see it again, and I haven’t until just now to write notes for this review. Whereas Whiplash is endlessly watchable for me, and I still get every ounce of entertainment out of that one that I did the first time I saw it, La La Land is just… there, and I feel fairly bad about thinking that way about what was Chazelle’s passion project. I can see why people love this, and I can see why Oscar admired it as much as they did, and I might even agree with a lot of what’s been said about it, especially with the rating I’m choosing to give it. But, even with all that’s been said, that personal validation, that internal gong that certain films just strike within me, wasn’t hit by the efforts of La La Land. This is still a really good film, and who knows; you might get a lot more from it than I did. From all that I’ve seen, though, across the realm of cinema, and from all the cinematic knowledge that I’ve accumulated; to me, this isn’t the cinematic second-coming that it thinks it is.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

And that’s 2016’s additions in the books. Now then, I think I hear Best Picture calling my name once more.

Manchester by the Sea

Manchester by the Sea

I can’t beat it. I’m sorry.

I’d never heard of writer/director Kenneth Lonergan before Manchester by the Sea, and considering he’d only made two feature films before this one, that’s not as surprising as it might sound at first glance. Well, rest assured, whatever he might have on his docket next, it and he are squarely on my radar now. Manchester by the Sea was basically this year’s little-film-that-could at the Oscars, getting a Best Picture nom as well as accolades for the major players in front of and behind the camera, including a win for lead actor Casey Affleck. I’d seen the trailer and heard the hype coming from Sundance about the film, and actually decided to see it in theaters, so this ended up being my second viewing of the film, and it was no less inspiring and definitely no less heart-rending. Given the restraint that oozes out of every pore of this film, both from the actors and the filmmakers themselves, it’s amazing how affecting this film manages to be.

Lee Chandler lives outside of Boston, Massachusetts, largely going through his day-to-day routine being a janitor and handyman at an apartment complex, until he gets a phone call that his brother Joe has passed away from a recurring heart defect. Driving back to his previous hometown, Manchester-by-the-Sea, he learns through Joe’s will that he has been named guardian of Joe’s now-fatherless 16-year-old, Patrick, and through several circumstances involving the funeral arrangements, Lee is forced to stay in Manchester until the upcoming spring; something that Lee is very wont not to do, due to the circumstances in his past that caused him to leave Manchester behind entirely. The film largely follows the narrative of Lee as he goes through this process pretty much in straight chronology, punctuated by skips backward in time as Lee remembers his brother and his previous life in Manchester, or rather as his memories intrude into his present, almost unwillingly so, from the way the editing of the film is put together. That right there is the beauty of Manchester by the Sea; this is the type of film where the narrative, while being there and solid, is there to hold up the characters, and specifically what they are going through due to the narrative, and it’s through Lonergan’s script and subtle direction, Affleck’s performance, and the way the film is constructed that what the characters are going through is so apparent and effective, even and especially because of all the restraint exhibited by all involved. I’ve been a fan of Casey Affleck’s since his nominated supporting role in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and part of the allure of this film to me was the one quote on the poster up there, proclaiming Affleck’s work in this to be the stuff of giants. Needless to say, he does not disappoint; here, Affleck is a simmering pot of emotions, barely perceptible on the surface, but absolutely visible and discernible to us the audience due to Affleck’s skill and talent at making the internals of his character fully observable, despite his character’s tangibly holding himself back from feeling everything his body wants him to feel. Lucas Hedges also surprised and impressed me, especially because I’d previously seen him only in a much more quirky role in Terry Gilliam’s The Zero Theorem, and here he shows that he’s got a real future ahead of him, if he keeps at it with roles like this one. Rounding out the major players is Michelle Williams as Lee’s ex-wife Randy, and Williams is good as well (though that’s to be expected of her by now), particularly in the film’s most gutting scene where Randy and Lee meet face-to-face after all they’ve been through, and Randy tries to apologize to Lee for all of it. Many Oscar noms have happened due to one particular scene for the actor, and I’d wager Williams’ nomination for this film is a result of that scene alone.

The thing I love most about this film is that, when you take into account the bits and pieces that make up the narrative and the characters, it really shouldn’t work, at least not as a Hollywood picture. The fact that it does, though, and that it does so beautifully, is in my opinion a testament to how versatile and effective cinema can be as a medium. You don’t need to follow the Hollywood formula to be a good or even great film, and Manchester by the Sea is only the latest example of such a picture that still manages to succeed in the popular and critical circles. I’m really enamored of this film, for many reasons, and that it works almost despite itself is probably one of the major ones. That said, if one doesn’t take to the particular type of entertainment value that this film has to offer, I can see why they would largely want to write this off, though they’d be making a very short-sighted mistake in doing so. This is definitely a film greater than the sum of its parts, and I got just as much out of it this second time around (perhaps more so) than I did the first time I saw it. That’s a great film by my definition.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

Moonlight

Moonlight

You gotta decide for yourself who you’re going to be. Can’t let nobody make that decision for you.

Ed. Note: I’ve decided the best way to juggle the new 1001 films along with the current Best Picture odyssey, remembering that I’d need to keep each Best Picture year relatively fresh in my head for the Judging Oscar segments, is to not juggle; I’m gonna put Best Picture on hold until I’ve finished with the new additions. I technically haven’t started 1939 yet, so I’m gonna hold off on doing so until I’m done with 1001 again, and hopefully the influx of newer, (hopefully) worthwhile films will reinvigorate my odyssey once I get back to it.

I’m sure anybody reading this is aware of the hilarity that occurred at the Academy Awards this past year, when the wrong envelope was given out for the final award, resulting in the wrong film being announced as the winner of Best Picture; the producers of that film, La La Land, even fully gave their speeches before the mistake was finally made known, and the real winner was able to be recognized: Moonlight. Now, most of the shock that occurred when Moonlight’s win was uncovered was justified; La La Land went into the ceremony the overwhelming favorite to win, especially having tied the record for the most Oscar nominations for a single film, and the two other films it tied with eventually went on to win Best Picture themselves, so really it was the upset win of the night, especially with how it went down. So, did Moonlight actually deserve the win? Is it really a better overall film than La La Land? Now, having seen both films, I feel I can say: Yes, it is. It’s by a smaller margin than I was expecting going into the film, but I feel the Academy made the right decision, at least between the two films.

The film is a three-part tale of one young man, who goes by a different name or nickname in each section, growing up as a black adolescent in a drug-dealing neighborhood of Miami (the location isn’t as important as the rest, though). His mother, a drug addict herself, is hardly a positive influence on his life, and indeed he is basically without such people until a chance encounter with Juan, a drug dealer himself, who becomes the young man’s de facto role model in a much more beneficial way than you would think a drug dealer would be. Each of the three stages of the young man’s life, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, is a different story, but each shares thematic elements among the entire film. What separates Moonlight from most of the other coming-of-age dramas in recent memory is two things: the protagonist, Chiron, is both a black youth in America, as well as a gay youth in America, and it’s these two things combined that provide most of the dramatic characterization in Chiron’s story; him trying to figure out what kind of person he is, with all the conflicting influences and obstacles in his life. Despite the film’s setting and narrative, which would seem to make the story rife with conflict, there is surprisingly little of it in Moonlight, though it is there at the film’s key junctions. What there is instead in Moonlight is mood; the film treats its material with a soft touch, a quiet reverence, that amplifies the effect of the film’s importance in regards to Chiron and his growing up, but not enough so as to be inflating the story to heights it otherwise has no business being in. The cinematography is slight, but effective; the acting is muted, but with enough knowhow to flare up when it needs to to make things happen; everything about the film was perfectly paced and controlled, but not in an ostentatious way like other films (like The Revenant, which has everything amped to eleven).

I was impressed as hell that this was director Barry Jenkins’s second ever feature; it had a finesse and a control to it that most features, even of today, seemed to lack. Most of all, though, what I liked about it was how pure a film it was; how simple it was, which only seemed to enhance its effect. I can absolutely see how many people are regarding it as the best overall film of 2016; I don’t know if my opinion of it got to that level, but I certainly appreciated the heck out of this. More than anything, it was exactly what it needed to be, and it was thanks that what it needed to be was at such a high standard that it’s ending up as critically lauded as it is, I think. Kudos to Jenkins, and kudos to the Academy for recognizing this one; it was definitely worth seeing.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

The Big Short

The Big Short

Truth is like poetry. And most people fucking hate poetry.

One Christmas, my brother got my dad a book called The Big Short, all about the recent financial crisis of 2007-08 and how a certain few individuals came out ahead by basically betting that the whole system was going to collapse, and when it actually did, they made billions. My dad, being in the financial world, loved the book, and wanted us all to read it as well, though I never did; I just didn’t think it would be interesting or accessible to someone like me. Then I heard they were making a film from the book, and I started to wonder how they would go about doing it. The film came out, and I didn’t go see it; aside from what I’d heard about the clever and innovative style the film was told in, I didn’t think it would hold all that much of my interest, or it would be too over-my-head. Now, that it’s been added to the 1001 list, as well as getting a nomination for Best Picture, I’ve basically been forced to see it. So, now, now that I’ve seen it, what do I have to say about it? I don’t really know. I don’t know if I can put my reaction to this film into words. But I’m going to try. I do feel that I should at least try to do that.

The ensemble cast, featuring Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling, Brad Pitt, and Christian Bale, among others, are all involved in the financial world of Wall Street banking; not the hyper-stylized world that we’ve come to know from films like Wall Street and The Wolf of Wall Street, but the real world of banking as it actually was (any deviations in the film from what really happened in reality are even lampshaded by the characters breaking the fourth wall and explaining the artistic license as well as what actually did happen) circa 2005 or so. One by one, each of the ensemble becomes aware of the true nature of the “bubble” that is the American housing market and what the general entire financial system is propped up on, or figures it out themselves, and one by one, being in the financial sector, they all try and figure out a way to profit off of the impending collapse, or popping, of that bubble. Do they succeed? Yes. Is it worth it? That, dear readers, is the real question. I’ll talk about the actual film itself, and how it was made; director Adam McKay, who until now had largely been known for his comedy work and collaborations with Will Ferrell, delivers a cinematic explanation of the housing market’s collapse in the only way he can: through subversion. Characters, as I mentioned, frequently break the fourth wall, and there are several segments featuring actors completely removed from the events of the film explaining financial concepts to the audience. The film is structured as a docu-drama, but with just enough of a wry twist thrown into it to add that extra layer of “I can’t believe this really happened” to it all. And that’s the real aspect of what makes this film a winner. This film knows what it is, what it’s about, who the characters are, what kind of people the characters really are underneath; this film knows everything, and rather than just explain it straight, or even through subtext and metaphor to make it palatable, the film takes it several layers further. And that’s the point; this isn’t supposed to be palatable. You’re not supposed to relate to these characters, or root for the heroes and boo the villains. This is real life. This really happened, and the film, more than anything, wants every person who watches it to understand that, and understand it the best they can.

After the credits started to roll, I really was unsure of how to go about writing this review. I tried to think of things to say, about the direction or the editing or the cast or anything of the kind… but I couldn’t. All I could do was feel. I felt angry. I felt upset. I felt sickened. But more than anything, I just felt hopeless. This really happened. This actually happened, and everybody involved with making it happen got off completely free (except for literally one guy who went to jail, who’s mentioned at the end of the film), and they didn’t care. They just didn’t care, as long as they got what they wanted. This film gets a recommendation from me for similar reasons that I recommended Citizenfour last year; I think– no, I feel… that it is imperative that everyone who can see this film should see this film. The obligation to casting a light on these real life events through cinema that I didn’t feel with Spotlight, I felt with this film. Is it just me? It could be, maybe. But in that small area of my mind, or my heart, that still has some positive thoughts to say about humanity and people in general, I really do hope that it isn’t just me. We have to be better than this.

Right?

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

Imitation of Life

Imitation of Life

Once a pancake, always a pancake!

From what I did gather in my usual pre-watch research, I went into Imitation of Life knowing as little about the actual plot as possible, so I could bend and sway with the plot however it turned without knowing beforehand how it would. I’d gotten the inclination that, contrary to other films of the era that are largely by rote and written with formulas in mind, Imitation of Life was to be a serious picture, examining race relations in an era some several decades before the Civil Right’s movement started to smolder. What I got from actually watching it was more than that; it was a little bit of the exploration of race, which was less than I expected, but it was so much more of a worthwhile film as a whole that I was frankly surprised I hadn’t heard of it before.

Claudette Colbert is Bea Pullman, a young widow taking care of her infant daughter Jessie by picking up her late husband’s business peddling maple syrup. One day, a black housekeeper comes to her house responding to an ad in the paper, having gotten the wrong address, but she and Bea hit it off and the woman, Delilah, decides to stay with the Pullmans as long as they can also care for her daughter Peola. From there, the film follows the makeshift family over the years, from Bea’s decision to open up a pancake restaurant featuring Delilah’s pancake recipe, to how the family makes it big when they incorporate and sell Delilah’s recipe nationwide, to how Delilah’s daughter Peola tries to use the good fortune of being fair-skinned to avoid her black ancestry, as well as her mother, when she comes of age. The first word that jumped out at me about Imitation of Life as a film was ‘professional’. Especially considering the last two films I watched, I couldn’t believe how professional everything in this film was, from how it handled itself and its plot to how well put together it was, down to the finest details and the simplest camera moves. Add to it the progressiveness of the plot itself, and it was actually quite stunning how forward-thinking the whole picture was for the 1930s. Apparently it was almost a little too forward-thinking, as the newly enforced Hays Code threatened to shutter the picture because of how it deals with the questions of racial identity, and were still denying their approval even two weeks into the film’s shooting. Thankfully, the film was made regardless, and I’m especially thankful that it was; of the films nominated for Best Picture that I had yet to see, this one is probably the first real genuine surprise find for me.

This film was as simple in construction as it could be, had barely any music to it, and a cast of arguably only one notable name, and it still not only managed to be a wonderful film, it exceeded even that by being so ahead of its time. It’s smart, it’s broad in scope, it’s amazingly well-made; I’m seriously floored that this was made in 1934, especially against other films (such as the last two I reviewed). I saw a few other reviews of this one that weren’t as glowing, that were mostly let down that the film wasn’t as serious and hard-hitting as it could’ve been about the topics of race and identity, especially compared to the later remake of this, which I can understand, but I was still bowled over by how well done this film was that a thought like that hardly crossed my mind. I’m so happy this was made, as well as nominated for Best Picture, and I’d agree with its placement even among a shorter field of nominees. The one other nominee of hers I’ve yet to get to notwithstanding, Claudette Colbert had a hell of a year in 1934.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Grand Budapest Hotel

His world had vanished long before he ever entered it.

Man, Wes Anderson; you surely and clearly don’t give a flying fuck what people think of your films. Or, rather, your filmmaking style, to be more precise. Wes Anderson’s films somehow manage to be all the same, and yet they are all different, but none of them are as clearly enjoyable to just about any possible viewer as The Grand Budapest Hotel. This is the film that finally got Anderson an Oscar nomination for Best Director, and it’s damn easy to see why; for this film, Wes Anderson decided to go all Wes Anderson on himself, Wes-Andersoning his direction to the umpteenth degree, creating a Wes Anderson-ception effect. But still, when the result of such an act is this, to use the most appropriate word possible, delectable, then I’m perfectly willing to give Wes Anderson all the liberties he is requesting.

Befitting the Wes-Anderson-ception moniker I used above, the film’s plot is nested like a Russian doll. We open on a young girl in a cemetery who walks up to a monument of an author, then opens a book by the author with the same title as the film and begins reading. Cue flashback to 1985, where we enter in on the Author who describes how he wrote the book after a visit to the eponymous fictional eastern-European hotel in 1968. Cue flashback to 1968 where we meet the young Author (who narrates), who finds himself invited to dine with the long-time owner of the now-fading hotel, Zero Moustafa, who decides to answer the author’s inquiries as to how he became the owner of the hotel and why he is still there. Cue flashback to 1932, where we finally meet our central players: M. Gustave, played by a delightfully irreverent Ralph Fiennes, the well-regarded concierge of the hotel Grand Budapest, and the young Zero, who has recently become the hotel’s new lobby boy (complete with Lobby Boy cap), and who is swiftly taken under Gustave’s wing. Gustave ends up being framed for the murder of a wealthy aristocratic woman whom he, um, befriended, and who left him a valuable painting in her will, which draws the ire of the woman’s remaining family, particularly her son Dmitri. The rest of the film is a fluff-filled creampuff of an escapade for Gustave and Zero as they try to set about proving Gustave’s innocence, and each layer of the matryoshka doll that is the film’s narrative is resolved in turn. Really, for as big as that plot summary was, though much of it was an admitted tongue-in-cheek reference to the film’s narrative structure, there’s very little of substance that happens in this film. Well, actually, I can be even more broad; there’s very little of substance in this film, period. It is all confectionery, having you as a viewer eat all the frosting off the cake that is the film only to find even more frosting underneath. Now, normally, in the past, when I’ve described a film as all frosting and no cake, it’s been a slightly negative attribute, implying there’s nothing of real worth to the film in question. In all fairness, there’s not a whole lot of worth to The Grand Budapest Hotel either, but it’s just so gosh-darned enjoyable that the lack of substance really doesn’t matter or play a factor into the equation at all. Anderson’s frequent use of miniatures cheerfully add to this effect, implying a childlike whimsy to the proceedings, even as the characters make excellent use of Anderson’s at-times self-contradictory script, using the jarring nature of the slightly-incongruous-of-the-time-and-characters dialogue to great comedic effect more often than not. Especially Ralph Fiennes, who was positively daffy pretty much 100% of the time. And of course, Anderson’s weirdly symmetrical and rectangular compositions, which are even more so as much this time around as they have ever been in a Wes Anderson film.

I think I wasted everything I had to say about Wes Anderson and his newest fanciful delight of a film already, even though what I said wasn’t really a whole lot. And there you have it; The Grand Budapest Hotel in a nutshell. I did think fairly hard, though, about what rating to give the film, before I decided to be nice and give it the rating I ultimately wanted to give it. Even with that, however, there will of course be people that this film, and really all of Wes Anderson’s films, just aren’t for, and watching the other Anderson films I’ve watched, it can be understandable why these people think this way. But not when watching The Grand Budapest Hotel. This is just such an enjoyable watch that you’d pretty much have to have a heart of solid concrete to not find something to like about it. I should know; I’ve often worried about having a heart of stone myself, but it’s films like this one that serve as a nice refreshing reminder not to take absolutely everything too seriously. Give this a watch; if you like it, great, if not, I guess I can’t blame you. But your cinematic palette must be pretty limited indeed if this doesn’t satisfy your sweet tooth, at the very least.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

That’s it for 2014. Thanks for sticking around, and future thanks to anyone who visits in the meantime before the next edition comes out. See y’all next year.