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dcnativegal · 7 years

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Another autumn behind the sagebrush curtain

Something I’m getting used to in Christmas Valley is body odor. I don’t want to embarrass my smelly clients but I also need to breathe, so I regularly plug in one of those melted wax aromatic thingamajigs, and it does help. But I was in line at the Chevron, which is also kind of a fast food joint and a grocery store, and the gentleman before me was quite odiferous. Wow, phew, ack. A lot of my clients and perhaps a significant part of the population up in North County is without running water, sewage hookup, and/or electricity. Maybe you’ve heard of that zen saying’. Before Enlightenment: chop wood, haul water. After Enlightenment, chop wood, haul water. Well, all that chopping and hauling is the day to day reality here with no pretensions for spiritual edification.

I did a couple’s counseling session recently and one point of contention was who does the dishes. Sounds familiar to most couples, amiright? In this case, it’s a matter of hauling water and sometimes but not always heating it to do the dishes. Good grief. Same with gardening. You want vegetables? You gotta haul the water.

When money is tight, and a felon and his disabled girlfriend are living on her disability check, and sometimes his phone is out of minutes and sometimes hers is, and they haul water, and sometimes pay for a shower at the RV park ($4. Not sure if shampoo is provided), and the laundromat is 40 miles from your homestead…. Body odor will result. Me and my nose will adapt.

Winter is on its way. We’ve already had several frosts. The outdoor potted plants are now indoor. We never did plant the azaleas that Karen gave us to prove that azaleas are possible to grow in the high desert. (I remain skeptical.) One just up and died, and the other one is on a window ledge by the wood stove. I’m back to keeping a warm coat in the car just in case the car breaks down and I have to wait in the cold for help. I have an emergency kit, a spare tire, bottled water and protein bars. I don’t plan to break down any time soon or to hit a deer or god help me an elk, but you never know. I’ve learned from last winter to be prepared. Cell phone reception is an iffy thing, and we all depend on the kindness of strangers in bad weather. At the beginning of November, I’ll have my studded tires put on and then I’ll be ready for whatever ice and snow gets tossed on us humans in these high altitudes.

I learned recently that for every 1000 feet in altitude, it is 5 degrees color than at sea level. So at 4,000 feet up, it’s 20 degrees cooler. Lakeview, the county seat, is the highest altitude town in Oregon. That doesn’t seem right, since there are the Cascades and all. Maybe the highest county seat.

It’s gonna be in the 80s today in DC. A bit warm for early October but by no means unusual. It was 29 last night in Paisley.

I’ve graduated a bunch of people with Substance Use Disorder since I started in February, giving them a certificate, notifying their probation officer, closing out their treatment plan, changing their diagnosis to say, in remission, making a compliance note, and then a service conclusion note. They are so happy not to have to call in every morning to see if their random urinalysis color is on for the day. If their color is called, they have to get to our offices during the day, and if they work a job during the day, it’s a hassle, although most employers are cool with it. I’ve been flexible with my clients since I started practicing in North Lake, allowing the clients to come in for a spit test (for guys because I’m a gal) or a pee test or UA (for gals because I’m a gal so I can watch them pee. Oh joy.) when they are already in town, saving them gas and another trip to come in between 4 and 5 when we’re supposed to be most available for drug tests. And I’ve been happy to oblige. However, I’ve been informed from people above my pay grade that I’m not supposed to be that flexible, ‘cause then everyone will want to come in whenever. So new clients are going to have to come in from 4 to 5pm when their color is called. Gas or no gas. If they ‘no show’, they have to start the 90 days over again.

I have an ambivalent relationship to the punitive aspects of drug treatment. Sometimes I think, just have abundant available treatment options, people, and come on, taxpayers, pay up. And other times I see that, in one case or another, threat of jail and even brief time in jail scares them sober. I’m particularly worried about the poverty around here. A gallon of gas is beyond some folks some days. I do encourage my clients to quit smoking because you could buy gas with that cigarette money.

Or food. One of my clients just had kids taken by DHS and now the client is not eligible for food stamps. Apparently, when single years ago, this client could get food stamps for a month near to $200. Not anymore. Do folks realize that it is Democrats who shore up the ‘safety net’ and increase food stamp allowances? Not these folks. If they vote, they vote Republican. Do I point this out in session? No, I do not.

I wish I could tell you some stories from my clients’ worlds but I can’t. I will share themes, instead.

One theme for people with ‘substance use disorders’ is about cannabis. I have at least 4 clients who have stopped using methamphetamine, and good on them. Seriously. But they still smoke pot. Weed. A bowl. Now and then or several times a day. And they object to the fact that their body fluid drug tests (spit or pee) are ‘dirty’ with THC. They stopped using meth! They aren’t drinking whisky or beer. Why can’t they have weed? It’s LEGAL. It’s NATURAL.

If you’re under 18 it is NOT legal.

If you’re on probation for a drug offense, and sometimes if it is not a drug offense but you’re on probation, or you lost your kids to foster care for domestic violence, then YOU CAN’T USE POT. PERIOD.

I tell them, I’m so sorry, but that’s the rules. And my job is to help you get off probation. I did not make the rules. Neither did the probation officers. If they want to lobby Oregon state legislature, get on to Salem, and knock yourself out. Meanwhile, YOU CAN’T USE IT.

So then I hear, but I can’t sleep without it. I get so angry without it. It helps me cope with my PTSD. Which is for real.

It’s MEDICINAL.

Do they have a medical marijuana card? Nope. And even if they did, most judges say, tough, no THC in the drug test. No nothing in the drug test. Not a single beer.

Okay then, let’s look at the options for treating the PTSD. Nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks, hypervigilance. There are options. Some of them has to do with talk therapy, and that’s where I come in. but there is help from medications. There really is. I’ve seen it work since I got here. We have a psychiatric consultant who is a nurse practitioner. He treats half the rural counties in Oregon, and does it remotely from The Dalles. Thursday is Lake County day. He looks like Arlo Guthrie, and recently failed to kill a single elk with his bow during a 10 day vacation.

Okay, so these clients then say, drugs aren’t natural. Pot is natural.

My retort is that arsenic and uranium are natural, too.

They don’t want to be dependent on a drug. Excuse me, what is cannabis? They don’t want to have to pay for a drug. They grow their own medicine in the form of pot and why is that a problem? I mention again, it’s against the terms of probation.

But, but, I once was on a drug and it made me crazy. Did you try another drug? Nope.

I don’t believe in drugs. So if you had an infection in your leg and it was either take an antibiotic or have it cut off, what would you do? Stuff it with herbs and wait.

See what I’m up against? Those clients who kicked meth but work daily on 6 bowls of pot, chopping wood, hauling water, hustling cigarettes, bartering for hay for the goats and feed for the chickens are going to be on probation forever. I’ve had clients on probation for 7 years. Alrighty then. I’m taking your spit and meeting with you and your probation officer looks at you with the stink eye and Oregon Health Plan pays for me and the spit, and taxpayers pay for the probation officer, and here we are.

For the folks who finally get clean of all of those substances, gosh they are my favorite clients. I miss them when they graduate. They are so glad to be done, to be off probation, to have a simple life with a job and their kids at home, and church on Sunday. I give them their certificate, tell them to stop by to visit if they’re nearby, lend them movies for free, and remind them to be nice to gay people. (Especially at church.) Off they go.

At some point they made a decision to get clean and stay clean. For most but not all it was residential rehabilitation that did they trick. Removed them from their day to day, sat them down with a counselor and with a group of fellow ‘substance use disordered’ folks, and forced them to gaze at their navel. After a month or 3 months, boom, they are clean and sober. They return to 90 days of random testing and weekly visits with me in what is called aftercare. And then, they are DONE. And their sweet simple life is so sweet and so blissfully simple.

Mostly I sit and listen to their stories. I am grateful to be a witness to their transformation.

I wish I could do a study of all the gay people who grew up in Lake County. I’d like to know how they survived high school at one of the three schools (North Lake, Paisley and Lakeview). When did they came out to themselves, to one other person, to their parents, and what happened then? Where did they move after high school? How out are they now? And are they okay. (Did it get better?)

I have pretty darn good gaydar which I keep refining over the years. I’ve been wrong a few times, because effeminate men can be straight, and butch women can be, too. But I knew the first few minutes of the movie Juno that the actress, Ellen Page, was gay, and that was years before she came out. I just knew it by how she marched to the convenience store for yet another pregnancy test. I said, lesbian. Queen Latifah is gay, too. I don’t think she’s ever coming out. Jody Foster. Most definitely, and finally out. Anyway, there are two boys in Paisley that I think are gay. And I don’t know for sure. But I wish I could cast a protective aura around them. Because whatever they evolve into, (gay, bisexual, trans) they could be targeted because they are gentler, more creative, and have emotional intelligence. We’ll see. I’m not close enough to either of them to offer protection. And one is related to a very conservative family. So I’m just watching. I’m not sure what else to do. I go to the same church as these boys (when I go to church in Paisley). So that’s something. My mere presence as an out gay person must mean something.

Maybe next June I’ll hang a rainbow flag on the house. I fear a stray bullet. Or rather, an intentional bullet coming from a 12 gauge. I know, from good authority (Valerie’s daughter), that ‘nobody cares.’ But I don’t quite believe that. I still don’t have the nerve to put on my car, in defiance, the brilliant bumper sticker: I don’t mind straight people if they act gay in public.

I miss gay people. There is Valerie. And a few lesbians in Klamath County that I located with the help of google, the Herald and News (out of Klamath Falls) and one lesbian in particular who hooked me up with the others. I am ridiculously glad to see my one gay male friend who works with some of my clients, and now that another of my clients has moved to a third foster home, he is no longer the client’s worker so I see him less often. But he stopped by last week in Christmas Valley and is investigating a former client so maybe I’ll see more of him. Not that I ever wish anyone to be investigated because some kid is neglected. But sometimes kids need to be rescued and parents need a wake up call. He’s an awesome social worker, and all around great husband and father to four kids (who were born to substance use disordered cousins). Gay men make perfect friends for women, gay or straight. They have emotional intelligence. They don’t want to get in your pants. And sometimes, they share your interests, like knitting. Or social work. Valerie’s first husband’s husband knits AND crochets.

It’s dusty out here. Sometimes it’s alkali dust from the dried patches of the lakes, when the wind is just right. Sometimes it’s dirt dust. This weekend I’m staying in a tiny town in Deschutes county where Valerie is cow and puppy sitting. The ranch house is full of flies; she says it’s because of how close the leppies (baby calves whose mother rejected them) are to the house. But when I visited her here when she was the main ranchhand, a few summers ago, there were piles of dead flies in the window sills. She was just now talking to her sister on the phone and walking around killing fly after fly. I am amazed at her deadly skill. And then there’s dust. On everything. Thick layers of it. She apparently mopped thoroughly ever single floorboard just yesterday. Today I can write my name in the dust with my be-socked toe. The views from the house are beautiful. The house itself is adorable, with a lovely porch, decorated in Rustic Cowboy. But I am having trouble with the dust. Val says, at least it’s not bus exhaust and city soot. Yea, true. But when I close the windows in the city, the soot stays outside. She says it’s because of the wind here. And the dirt is just real dry. The dirt can go wherever it wants to! I just don’t want to live in it.

I didn’t realize I’m such a prissy butt.

I’m near to Bend while visiting Brothers, which is a proper city, with stop lights and everything. I have a ‘must visit’ list now every time I approach a city: If it’s Sunday, I attend church. I check out the ethnic food. (I highly recommend the salmon pho with the cheerful all-male waiters at the Vietnamese.) I check out the local yarn shop and make a bee line for the sale bin. And I see a movie. If I’m lucky I can do all four.

Tomorrow, we’re going to an episcopal church, and sing hymns with multiple verses that I recognize. Alleluia. Not sure where we’ll eat. I’m voting for Indian. I have enough yarn (for the rest of my existence) so I’ll pass on the store this time. On Monday when I’m heading back south, I’ll go into Bend again and I’ll probably see Blade Runner 2049. I loved the first version, and I’ll love this one, too. I’ll have had my fix, and head south into a food desert, conservative churches, and zero movie theaters. Although the chili and cornbread at the Sage Hen Café is pretty good and I love the chicken and avocado Caesar salad at ‘erry’ restaurant. It used to be Jerry’s, but the J and the s are missing.

Dallas is not in Texas. Springfield is not in Massachusetts or Ohio. Lewisburg is not in Pennsylvania. Florence is not in Italy. Newport is not in Rhode Island. Bridgeport is not in Connecticut. Warrenton is not in Virginia. Oakland is not in California. I’ve mentioned before that Albany is not in New York, and Ontario is not in Canada, either. They are all in Oregon. The ocean, known as the coast or the beach, is West, not East, of wherever I am. Do not under any circumstances pass a snow plow on the right. That’s just dumb. And never go into a rural area without a full tank of gas. I started out at the edge of a reservation on the way to Portland recently and figured there was a gas station. WRONG. I spent about 30 miles wondering what I would do if I ran out of gas. With no phone signal. And way past the age where all I had to do was show a little leg (a la It Happened One Night.) I figured maybe I write a big sign that said OUT OF GAS, and pray. But I finally made it to a gas station just in time.

Also in Oregon: Sweet Home, Bonanza, Remote. Halfway, Paradise, Pendleton, Aloha. Eightmile, Thirtymile, Tenmile and Friend. Chiloquin, Keno, and Paisley.

One benefit of living in a frontier outpost is that there are virtually no chain businesses, with the exception of a couple of gas stations and the one Safeway in Lakeview. One Dollar Store and a True Value. Everything else is a small business. You can buy almost anything from a store that has only one location. I can buy excellent quality yarn at Willows in Christmas Valley. There are at least 3 thrift shops with big selections. I bought a little bit of furniture for my office at a store in Lakeview. Many stores serve multiple functions, like the Chevron/fast food/grocery store. The True Value sells toys. You can buy clothes and rent movies at Santa’s Hardware in Christmas Valley. Ammo, knickknacks, milk, nails, and deodorant are available at the Paisley Mercantile. If you’re into quilting, there are shops in Lakeview and Paisley. The county could use more pharmacies—there is only one, called Howard’s, in Lakeview. And there is the one hospital, of which I am an employee since they took over the county mental health service. Folks in north lake county go shopping up in another county, Deschutes, where there is Costco and Walmart and BiMart, which has a pharmacy. Is BiMart only for bisexuals? No. Bisexuals are the largest category of not-straight, though you’d never know it by popular culture. I guess I’d have to dust off my official bisexual card. Kidding. No such thing. I’m a lesbian-identified bisexual, based on my history, and a persistent crush on Ryan Gosling. Anyway, we support small businesses out of necessity here in the Oregon Outback because we have no choice. And I gladly pay a little more for gas at the Summer Lake General Store and the Chewaucan garage to thank them for persisting and existing.

Since I moved out here, I’ve been especially interested in stories in the news about people who are building bridges, across class and race and political party. Black friends on facebook encourage all their white friends to be a proactive ally against racism in all its forms. I do speak up when there is an opportunity, which is a tricky thing to recognize. Speaking up in a way that communicates, and builds a bridge. I listen to a bunch of podcasts which are focusing on studies of bias (Hidden Brain, Invisibilia, Freakonomics.) A recent story from Sincerely x was narrated by a black woman who was told repeatedly by her mom and her teachers that she ‘ain’t nothing, and ain’t gonna BE nothing.’ She has proven everyone wrong. I listen to This American Life, Moth Radio Hour, Strangers, Terrible Thanks for Asking, and a couple with funny names like “Conversations with People who Hate Me.” There’s a podcast called Home of the Brave, and the narrator interviews Trump supporters hoping to understand them better, and another called Strangers, same thing. Us & Them is a podcast out of West Virginia. It had a recent episode called Hillers and Creekers which described the bullying that upper class (Hillers) did to working class (Creekers) residents. Wow. To make sure I don’t lose touch altogether with black culture, I listen to 2 Dope Queens and Historically Black. I’ve subscribed to Reparations but haven’t listened yet. There’s Still Processing from the New York Times, which focused on biracial folks in the most recent episode. I fill my ears and mind with hours of podcasts every week, what with all the driving I do beyond the reach of radio. I am the better for it. I may work less than 30 hours a week, but I drive another 8 hours for my commute.

I confess I wish someone would like to build a bridge to me. A friend of Valerie’s invited us over for dinner early on, and included one of the resident gun-worshipping, trump-supporting curmudgeons. She proceeded to start a conversation about racism. It did not go well. Of course, the curmudgeon did not have a racist bone in his body (where are those blasted racist bones, anyway?) And, naturally, he’d had one unfortunate encounter with a black person in which the black person was mean to him and so, that’s it: black people had a chance and they blew it. It was too vast a territory to traverse over tri tip. He didn’t trust me. And I don’t know what our host intended. Self-described as a moderate republican, she is a decent person, and noble to the point of saintliness in some of her activities here in rural America. But I felt put on the spot, and discouraged. I’m game. But I do not desire to be put on a hot seat and ask to explain 400 years of white supremacy, and why it is still real and still important, as a sort of freak show. I had an idea about starting an anti-racist book group when I first arrived. Let me get my health together first; i just don’t have the energy right now.

Have I mentioned how gorgeously beautifully picturesque this place is? How happy I am to snuggle next to my beloved girlfriend in the fake brass bed I got off of the DC Craigslist? How much I enjoy all the wool I am collecting? I am one prolific lap blanket maker right about now. How glad I am that I made this move?

#antiracism addiction lgbt rural

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moviesbarelyreviewed · 7 years

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The Best of 2017

So it’s been two years since my last post on this here blog. There are may and varied reasons for this, but I won’t bore you by getting into them. What’s important is that I’ve still been seeing movies, still been thinking about them, and still been telling everyone I know to see the ones I love. And so I hope that this post will get this blog back in business, though I hesitate to make any promises, given that I am now a first-year law student, meaning that a) There’s a very good chance I won’t have the time to keep up with this blog and b) I’ve learned that making promises can sometimes inadvertently bind you in an irrevocable contract, which could prove very costly for me down the road (don’t ask me how, I still don’t understand contracts).

Nevertheless, it’s the end of the year, so I’ve made my list of the year’s best films, and I want to share it with you all. As always, I couldn’t see every movie that came out this year. I used to say that I was only an amateur film critic of dubious reputation and professionalism, but I’m not sure I can claim even that title at this point (see: it’s been two years since my last post). So before you all start banging down my doors, complaining that I left your favorite film off my list (this has never happened, but I like to imagine that I’m important enough to where it would), I’ll note up front that I have not seen The Last Jedi, I, Tonya, The Shape of Water, Call Me By Your Name, and whatever film you’re thinking of right now, probably. But with that being said, I’ve seen many of the year’s big contenders (shoutout to a/perture Cinema in Winston-Salem, NC, for allowing me the opportunity to see some smaller films that I couldn’t catch in any other theater) and I feel comfortable in saying that this is a fairly comprehensive list. Like in the past, I start the list with number 11, because there was just one film I couldn’t leave out.

11. Raw (Julia Ducournau). I really think that we’re living in a golden age for horror films, and if you don’t believe me, well, note that the first three films on my list are all horror movies. The first is Raw, an ice-cool, coming-of-age shocker from French director Julia DuCournau. I feel confident in recommending most of the other films on my list to just about any moviegoer out there, but I can’t say the same for Raw. This is, quite simply, not a film for everyone, which is completely fine. The story follows teenage vegan Justine (Garance Marillier), who goes away to veterinary school and is forced to eat meat as part of a hazing ritual during her first week. The new taste opens Justine up to some other... new tastes, though I hesitate to say more for fear of spoilers. Suffice it to say, this movie has at least three of the most memorable scenes of the year. You can probably guess from this description alone that squeamish viewers need not apply. But those who can stomach the story’s taboo twists will find an intelligent, sensitive, and provocative tale, solidified by a killer soundtrack and a fearless central performance from Marillier.

10. Happy Death Day (Christopher Landon). There’s something to be said for a movie that is impeccably crafted, brilliantly acted, and profoundly impactful. But there’s also something to be said for a movie that isn’t any of those things, but is still fun as heck. Happy Death Day, the horror-thriller from director Christopher Landon, certainly falls into the latter category, but I think it more than deserves a spot on this list. Making a great genre film is often harder than making a great original film, because most everyone who sees genre films is familiar with their tropes and not looking for something they’ve already seen before. Happy Death Day manages to rise above those genre pitfalls, however, primarily due to its central gimmick which, albeit, it apes from films like Groundhog Day, Edge of Tomorrow, and even this year’s Before I Fall. Newcomer Jessica Rothe stars as Tree, who begins the movie as an obnoxious, stuck-up mean girl. We know, of course, that she is about to learn some important lessons. Unfortunately for Tree, though, she has to learn those lessons by, well, being murdered.... a lot, until she is able to uncover the identity of her masked killer. Like the aforementioned Edge of Tomorrow, Happy Death Day wisely doesn’t take itself too seriously and has a lot of fun with its circular time structure. Indeed, I found myself laughing throughout this movie, because it’s just such a blast to watch. Even though some of its third-act twists are utterly ridiculous, it doesn’t matter because the movie has already strapped you into its roller coaster ride long before. And as far as roller coasters go, this movie is as breathless as they come.

9. Get Out (Jordan Peele). Get Out is unquestionably one of the defining movies of 2017. Even though it came out in the first quarter of the year, it has stayed in the minds of moviegoers and critics alike, which alone is a tremendous accomplishment for director Jordan Peele. If you still haven’t seen Peele’s twisted tale of a black man (Daniel Kaluuya) who finds himself enduring figurative (and possibly literal) hell while spending a weekend with the parents (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener) of his white girlfriend (Allison Williams), you’re in for a truly original, unforgettable experience. Sure, the shocks and twists are effective, but what takes this movie beyond the level of a traditional genre film is its button-pushing topicality. Chances are it’ll make you squirm long before its supernatural scares come. It’s no wonder that it’s the movie everyone has been talking about for months on end.

8. Wind River (Taylor Sheridan). Director Taylor Sheridan made a huge splash just last year with his screenplay for the unlikely Best Picture nominee, Hell or High Water, and with Wind River, his directorial debut, he deserves to make an even bigger one. Like Hell or High Water, Wind River is a neo-western, though not a conventional one. It’s set on an Indian reservation in Wyoming, where wildlife tracker Corey Lambert (Jeremy Renner) is the only white man for miles, a fact which plays both a provocative and potentially problematic role in the movie’s plot. When a young Indian girl from the area is brutally murdered, Corey is called upon by FBI agent Jane Banner (the excellent Elizabeth Olsen), a city-slicker who is out of place on the reservation, to say the least, to help her navigate the community and investigate the crime, a task which eventually forces Corey to exercise some painful demons from his past. Although there is a hint of white saviorism in how the plot unravels, the movie’s lasting message is a poignant and pressing one about the current state of Native Americans in our country. Sheridan deserves a lot of credit for telling a little-told story with grit and honesty, and the actors certainly do their part as well, particularly the great Native American actor Gil Birmingham (who was brilliant as Jeff Bridges’ partner in Hell or High Water) as the father of the murdered girl.

7. The Lego Batman Movie (Chris McKay). I honestly didn’t think I could love 2015′s The Lego Movie any more... and then I saw the Lego Batman Movie. Despite a new director and the element of surprise having worn off, Chris McKay’s follow-up to The Lego Movie somehow reaches the impossibly high bar set by its predecessor. It does so mainly by not deviating from what made the first movie so successful: quirky characters, fast-paced humor, and beautifully detailed Lego environments. Will Arnett reprises his role from the original as a particularly narcissistic Batman, trying to protect Gotham from the likes of the Joker (Zach Galifianakis), Harley Quinn (Jenny Slate), Bane (Doug Benson), and many more, all while trying to deal with Dick Grayson (Michael Cera), the teenage orphan that he has accidentally adopted. As in the first film, there are as many jokes for adults as there for kids, and as in the first film, the movie has a heartfelt message at the core of its kicky and occasionally silly goings-on. There may come a point when these Lego movies wear out there welcome... but we’re not there yet.

6. Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan). So apparently some people thought Dunkirk was boring? I must confess, I am in the exact opposite camp. I was completely riveted by Christopher Nolan’s often unbearably intense war epic. Like most of Nolan’s movies, Dunkirk doesn’t spoon-feed its audience by dumbing things down. Instead, we’re expected to sift through the movie’s huge cast of characters and occasionally confusing time structure with little help from the filmmakers, which I, for one appreciated. But even if you can’t get your mind around everything going on in the film, it’s hard not to surrender to its incredibly immersive effect. I’ve rarely felt so embroiled in the goings-on of a movie as I did when watching Dunkirk. It proves that there are still many great war stories to be told, and many great directors willing to breathe new life into history.

5. Baby Driver (Edgar Wright). Like the Simon and Garfunkel song from which it takes its title, Baby Driver is as slick, cool, and effortless as movies come. Director Edgar Wright has yet to make a bad movie and, in Baby Driver, he borrows much of the visual panache and witty dialogue displayed in his great 2010 film Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, but this time targets it at... those of you who probably thought you were too cool to see a movie like Scott Pilgrim. Cool is something this movie certainly doesn’t lack. For those who haven’t seen it, Baby Driver is the story of a teenager named Baby (Ansel Elgort), who supports himself and the old man (CJ Jones) he shares an apartment with by working as a getaway driver for a band of bank robbers (Jon Hamm, Jamie Foxx, and Eiza Gonzalez are the robbers, Kevin Spacey is their leader). But when Baby falls for a good-hearted waitress (Lily James), he’s forced to choose between her or his wayward lifestyle.... which of course isn’t as simple as it sounds. As you might expect, Baby Driver has some truly epic action sequences, but what really gives it added style points is its brilliant use of music. Baby syncs all of his getaway drives up to classic rock songs and, as a result, the movie is a sort of musical-action hybrid rarely seen on the big screen. It needs no saying that the songs, from Queen’s “Brighton Rock” to Focus’s “Hocus Pocus”, are all perfectly chosen for their particular moments. No one else today is making movies like Edgar Wright. But they should be.

4. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonagh). If you’ve ever seen one of Martin McDonagh’s films (or plays for that matter), you’ll know that the man likes his humor as black as coal. Three Billboards, his latest, certainly doesn’t deviate from this trend, but it also has an emotional heft and modern-day relevance that perhaps In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths lacked. The rather clumsily titled film is set in a small Missouri town where Mildred (Frances McDormand) has recently lost her daughter to a brutal rape and murder that has left the community shaken. Frustrated by the perceived lack of effort in investigating the crime on the part of the local police, Mildred buys three large billboards on the edge of town and arranges for three different, but all damning messages to be painted on each (the most pointed of all reads “How come, Chief Willoughby”). But Mildred’s bold act doesn’t win the favor from the townsfolk that one might expect. That’s because the chief of police (Woody Harrelson) is a universally-admired family man, who is seen as the misplaced object of Mildred’s ire. Complicating matters even further is racist, firebrand cop Jason Dixon (the always incredible Sam Rockwell), who threatens to send Mildred over the edge with his untamed aggression. For my money, this is the best acted movie of the year. No one in the rich ensemble, which also includes John Hawkes, Lucas Hedges, Caleb Landry Jones, and Peter Dinklage, gives anything but their best. Even more impressive is McDonagh’s screenplay which is both brutally funny and brutally sad. His characters are some of the most believably complex I’ve seen in a long time. The moral ambiguity that all of their actions are subject to is not unlike real life itself. As much as I’ve enjoyed McDonagh’s films in the best, Three Billboards is an exciting step forward for a director already near the top of his game.

3. Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig). Come on, you guys new this would be on here. I mean, seriously, it’s a coming-of-age dramedy directed by Greta Gerwig and starring Saoirse Ronan. I don’t think I could write a better sentence than that if I tried. Now sure, I’m a sucker for these types of movies, but I think the overwhelming critical acclaim for Lady Bird (peep that Rotten Tomatoes score) proves that, at least this time, my hype for this movie is justified. To be fair, I think Lady Bird does lack the intense emotional impact of a film like The Perks of Being a Wallflower or The Spectacular Now, which keeps it from being a complete home run for me, but that’s probably by design. Yes, the movie is profound and often moving, but it’s also funny and whimsical in ways that those movies aren’t. Indeed, it has a lot of the quirky, shaggydog charm we’ve seen in recent films starring Gerwig, like Frances Ha or Mistress America. This time, though, it’s Ronan who stands in for Gerwig and, if there was any doubt beforehand, she proves that she’s the finest actress of this generation. And yeah, she’s only 23. Her performance here as Lady Bird, a strong-willed teen clashing with her parents (beautifully played by Laurie Metcalf and Tracy Letts), while experiencing her first relationships (Lucas Hedges and, later, Timothee Chalamet play her suitors), is yet another peerless turn in a career already chock full of them. Although I think Frances McDormand, in the above mentioned Three Billboards, gives arguably a better performance than Ronan, I’m rooting for Ronan to get the Oscar, because it’s long overdue. And that’s really all there is to say about Lady Bird. This wise, funny film hits basically no wrong notes and, though it’s hard to imagine how Gerwig will top this one, I can’t wait to see her try in the future.

2. The Disaster Artist (James Franco). The Disaster Artist is my favorite film of the year, but, for reasons I will explain shortly, I went with a different film at the top of this list. As for James Franco’s hilarious and inspiring film, however, I simply couldn’t have enjoyed it more. The Disaster Artist, based on the book by Greg Sestero, is the scarcely believable, but undeniably true story of Tommy Wiseau (James Franco), a bizarre man from some unknown Eastern European country (though he swears he was born in New Orleans), who sounds like Dracula and looks like the lead singer of a death metal band, and his 2003 film “The Room” which has become a cult classic of Rocky Horror proportions, primarily because it may well be the single worst film ever made (though don’t tell Wiseau). The Disaster Artist also tells us the story of Greg Sestero (Dave Franco), Tommy’s friend and roommate who starred alongside Wiseau in The Room. Like Tommy, Greg is an aspiring actor, but unlike Wiseau, he’s a clean-cut, all-American guy that seems to have at least a little bit of acting talent. The Franco brothers strike a great dynamic in their scenes together, but the real highlight of this movie is its depiction of the filming of “The Room.” If you’ve seen “The Room,” which I had, I think you can appreciate these scenes even more, but even if you haven’t, there’s much to laugh, gasp, and marvel at. The real achievement of The Disaster Artist, though, is the way it rewrites this narrative. Though there are a lot of laughs at his expense, Wiseau is an oddly inspiring figure, a man who, despite what everyone told him, had a dream and achieved that dream with nothing but a lot of passion (and, ok, a lot of cash that we still aren’t really sure of the source of). That’s a story we can all relate to.

1. The Florida Project (Sean Baker). The Disaster Artist, like I said, is my favorite film of 2017. The Florida Project, at least at this point, falls just short of that title because I’m still on the fence about the ending of Sean Baker’s film. I’ve gone back and forth on how I feel about it, but I think I need to see it again to truly decide. Nevertheless, I think the fact that I’m still thinking about this film, which I saw months ago, speaks to its power, and that’s why I’m choosing it as the best movie of 2017. The tale of Moonee (the delightful Brooklynne Prince), a mischievous 6 year old, and her mother Hailee (newcomer Bria Vinaite, in a stunningly brilliant performance) is an uncompromising look at poverty in America that still brims with vitality in every shot. Much is owed as well to the work of director Sean Baker, who brings the kitschy motel where Hailee and Moonee live, to life, in eye-popping color. And let’s not forget Willem Defoe’s lovely, warm-hearted performance as Bobby, who runs the motel and gives Moonee and Hailee break after break, despite his best instincts. The Florida Project will put you through the emotional ringer, especially in its climax, but the thing which struck me the most is how true this film is. It’s as essential as it is gripping, giving a voice to a group of people who are rarely heard from in today’s political landscape. And despite its unflinching realism, the movie is ultimately hopeful, and fully invested in the very premise that explains why movies endure into 2017: a little imagination can make anything seem possible. In 2017, I think that’s a lesson we all can all take heart in.

-PSH

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