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The Man Who Wasn't There (2001)

This decade, the Coens have made great films, good films and, it pains me to say, not good films (I did not care for The Ladykillers and I still think O Brother, Where Art Thou feels like a third or fourth draft for writers who are so attuned to finding the perfect pitch to every sentence and idea). TMWWT may just be a genre exercise like most of their films are, but that fact never gets in the way of the characters in their film, who don't know about genres. Billy Bob Thornton looks like the handsomest cadaver ever, smokes like cigarettes are going out of fashion and watches as his little world crumbles under the weight of cold war era topics like UFOs, dry cleaning and loveless adultery. He and his wife (an exquisite Frances McDormand) may not "have performed the love act in many years" but watching him shave her legs in the bathtub is so romantic it gives me chills. Roger Deakins' B&W cinematography could make me give up color forever.

Death Proof (2007)

QT has changed WWII forever, but my jury is still out on whether Inglorious Basterds is a great film and will hold up. I think Kill Bill Vol. 2 is his best this decade but I feel compelled to show the love for Death Proof. In its 88 min theatrical version it was solid but the 113 minute version on DVD confirms that the Grindhouse project was doomed to fail because Tarantino couldn't make a true scuzzy B-movie if his life depended on it. He loves his characters and he loves to hear them talk and someday, they may just forget that all the talk is merely holding off someone getting shot in the face, and just keep right on yapping. Death Proof is 85% talk, 13% action and 2% gore. Rose McGowan is sympathetic; Mary Elizabeth Williams is heavenly (and sings! and I prefer not to think that she will be raped and killed off-screen, despite Tarantino's opinions on the matter); and Kurt Russell is blisteringly evilarious, esp. when he's getting his ass handed to him at the end.

Femme Fatale (2002)

Brian DePalma only made four movies this decade. Thank God this one was so unbelievably friggin frakkin awesome. A mishmash of all his favorite fetishes (dream sequences, twinnings, supernatural phenomena, hot nude women), plot devices (heists, murder, redemption, hot nude women making out) and cinematic references (with Double Indemnity playing in French on the TV during the opening tracking shot), this is a gloriously lurid melodrama of improbability leading to an ending that actually had me shout out a joyous "No Fucking Way!" Sadly, this was to a near empty theater as everyone else in the country was watching 8 Mile that weekend. Rebecca Romijn is the first and second word on blonde seductresses and Antonio Banderas uses his looks to ironic effect to play the biggest sap ever.

Drag Me to Hell (2009)

Sam Raimi only made two non-Spider Man films this decade and this is the one that wasn't unpleasant and unredeemable (that would be The Gift). Is this better than Spider Man 2? Tough call. Still thinking on that. Is this better than The Evil Dead films? Tough call, but yes it is. Was this the best film of 2009? Raimi came through with a throwback to his early career and blended splatstick, gross-out fluids, and gore, with chills, shadows, thrills and frights, with a low-key but believable love story and made it look so damn easy. Allison Lohman was game, whether trying to impress her boyfriend's parents or getting thrashed upon by a crazy gypsy woman and in that mythical perfect world, her performance would have won nominations. Justin Long's tear-streaked face enters the pantheon of images I hope to carry to my grave.

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