Spoiler Alert

In arbitrarily limiting my favorite 2004 films to ten I had to relegate some worthy efforts to also-rans, so let me pontificate a bit more on why some of the critical favorites of this year did not edge onto my list of elite. All of the following films (except for the last one, for which there is a spoiler alert) have some merit and are worth paying to see, although one of them ("Sideways") will probably fare just as well on the living room screen, HDTV or not.

"Sideways" suffers mainly from critical overpraise. It is certainly well-constructed and wittily written, and could well have supplanted "Spiderman 2" on my list but it just didn't pack the same emotional punch. Its characters, especially Thomas Haden Church's asshole, are somewhat off-putting, and their journey to self-knowledge is a bit laid-back for me. That being said, I did learn a little more about wine tasting (though didn't Pope write "a little learning is a dangerous thing?"), and the tale had interesting meanderings. The awkward stop at Giamatti's mother's house reminded me of the sad sack visit in Jim Jarmusch's "Stranger than Paradise." I do like Giamatti as the anti-leading man, for which he is creating a personal niche in Filmdom, but I despise 800-page self-indulgent novels, especially those that exist only on hard copy (like that tome that was scattered to the winds in "Wonder Boys.") Let's give some credit to modern technology! Still, a smart film, and the fact that as many of my friends disliked it as critics slobbered over it could suggest I'm speaking more from peer pressure than critical acumen.

"The Aviator" is big and brassy and entertaining and shows off Scorsese's filmmaking skills to the max, but I appreciated its set pieces more than the film as a whole. The plane crash into Beverly Hills? Wow. Yeah, we all love the director, and Hollywood needs to honor him, but has he made a really good film since the wonderful "Goodfellas?" The problem with making a biopic is always how close one needs to stick to historical accuracy without sacrificing story value. Here, Scorsese seems to have erred in his original casting decision to star DeCaprio. Hey, the guy's a decent actor, but that baby face just limits his credibility, for me, at least. Not until the last act, when Leo dons the mustache, is there any resemblance at all to Howard Hughes. Since this depiction then become more an impression, the same standard had to apply to the other actors--Cate Blanchette, Jude Law, Gwen Stefani--who barely resembled the iconic stars they were depicting. And if that's the case, then why worry about historical inaccuracy at all? Have Hughes start pitching "The Outlaw" ten years before he did so in real life. Turn the film into more a Hollywood phantasmagoria. Okay, but all the anachronisms were distracting. How accurate a tale is this in the end? If it's going to violate reality principles, then why not turn it into a musical? And come on, Marty, must every movie you make threaten the three-hour mark? That's a long time for my bladder to hold up.

"Finding Neverland" is a pretty movie of universal appeal, and in its loving detailed depiction of Drury Lane reminded me of Mike Leigh's terrific "Topsy Turvy." Both tales reveal the darkness in the soul of the theatrical creator, but "Topsy Turvy" was exhilarating, and this movie rather depressing. What a lugubrious tale--and it was much worse in reality, when the husband of the family James Barrie glommed onto suffered and died of throat cancer before the wife expired too. And later, most of "Lost Boys" encountered early deaths from WWI and suicide. Fortunately the filmmaker did not provide an epilogue scroll describing these ultimate fates. The moment when Julie Christie melts and claps for TinkerBell is certainly effective, but not worth the long wait. Johnny Depp, no longer Hollywood's most underrated actor (that title now goes to Bruce Willis), is capable but so restrained that he sapped the joy out of his character's whimsical imagination. I do look forward to seeing his Inner Child released as Willy Wonka.

"Closer" is equally as dark. In fact, not a lot of laughs the entire Oscar season. But this is supposed to be a comedy of manners, I guess. Mike Nichols does a workmanlike job of transposing this popular stage piece to the screen. The problem here isn't in the wit of the script, or in the intense performances, but in the dislikability of the characters. Nothing close to an audience surrogate here as this foursome dally in long-term sexual extortion with each other. I did get a kick out of Julia Roberts discussing the various flavors of semen, but the joy of that moment did not last through the unpleasantness of the proceedings. Nor did it aid my appetite when the film was done. Jude Law's ubiquity is becoming something of a joke (how did he not find a role in "Neverland"?) As for Clive Owen, if he is not the next James Bond, the Ian Fleming ought to rise from his grave and consume the brain of Albert Broccoli, or whoever is in charge of the franchise.

Finally, last and definitely least, my Worst Moviegoing Experience of the Year:

"Open Water": I paid for this turkey under the impression, gleaned from Indie reviews, that I'd be seeing a breakthrough terror film. The interval I spent in the theater was comparable in discomfort to a rectal endoscopy (look it up). SPOILER ALERT: Do not read unless you wish to save yourself an hour and a half of painful tedium. This attractive yuppie couple gets stranded in mid-Caribbean by a clumsy scuba-boat crew, then bobs and weaves for 24 boring hours, occasionally sniping at each other, until they founder and die. Yes, they die; they are not rescued. Fade out, roll credits, reveal the camera that one of their feeding sharks was not able to digest. Call it Ishmael. You know, after enduring 90 minutes of amateur filmmaking and dread I deserved a better pay-off than that. I did like the actors and would enjoy seeing them in a romantic comedy, say "Dangerous Liaisons" or "Virginia Woolf" or "Closer." But when I left the theater I was trying desperately to erase the previous 90 minutes of my life from my memory, like a bad blind date. Now, where are the scientists of "Eternal Sunshine" when I really needed them?