Meanwhile, in Rivendell . . .

I usually find myself conflicted when I write these year-end posts.  (Don't we all, right?)  The problem with making top ten lists, for me, is that I often experience a sense of dissonance, torn between what I see as two different 'types' of candidates.  There are the stories that I think deserve a spot on their own merit, for their own technical excellence; and then there are the stories that I want to include because I personally enjoy  them so much, even if they aren't of the highest caliber. This year, I'm happy to report, that's not as much of a struggle!  2021 wasn't a great year for new-to-me movies, to be honest, but the silver lining there is that most of the films that  did stand out to me did so because they were both exceptionally well-made (in my opinion) and intensely satisfactory on a personal level.   Of course, there were exceptions:  films that were so good that I can't not  spotlight them, even if they weren't that "fun"

In my early teens, I adopted a reading motto.  C.S. Lewis had said that, "It is a good rule, after you finish a new book, never to allow yourself another new book until you have read an old one in between" — and by golly, if it was good enough for Clive, it was good enough for me.  So, I implemented that practice.  I alternated faithfully between books I'd never read before and books I had  read before.  After finishing a new-to-me book, I'd begin a reread; after I finished a reread, I'd begin another new-to-me.  I followed this "rule" fairly religiously for several years, if I recall correctly, balancing old and new in a straight 1:1 ratio.  (As I was already in the habit of rereading quite a bit on a regular basis, it wasn't that difficult; it simply became a strict formula rather than a flexible inclination.) Now, over time, I've realized how dogmatic that rule is and how silly it is to impose any kind of ironclad restriction upon my leisure r