The Wonderful Films of 2021 (Patreon)

I say it every year, but I genuinely hate the idea of ranking movies. They’re just not a comparative art. They’re too big, too chaotic, too varied for these elements of difference to really matter. Besides, there’s nothing interesting about what another human being ranks above another. It always just leads to this rote counter-argument of “no, I think X is better!!!” And I genuinely dislike that conversation. Especially when there are so many other conversations I love. For instance, I love talking about whether or not they moved me. I love talking about how they work and what makes us connect to them. I also love talking about what makes them complex, strange, or unnerving. I love everything that makes them human and fallible.

Especially in a year where movies may have mattered more than ever.

To put it simply, being in a movie theater is really important to me. Not just for the social element. I even love going to movies by myself. Because there’s something about being there in a sea of strangers, getting lost in the light in front of us… Of course,  the last couple of years has made that often impossible and sometimes just difficult. It made one of my favorite things in the world just… gone. And as theaters lay on the brink of death, there’s this part of me that just wants to celebrate all of it, as if pleading with every fiber of my being to make this experience as safe, wonderful, and viable as we can for the future. I know some people shrug their shoulders and point to the plethora of options at home, but it makes me feel exhausted to explain the importance of the difference between. Because I totally get it. I have a great TV. I have endless options. I know the convenience of hitting pause. Like you, sometimes I opt for convenience and do it that way, too… But that’s not what I want.

I want to go to a dark place. I want to be locked in and undistracted. I want something big, beautiful, loud, and enthralling. I want the swirling miasma of reactions filling the audience. And having emerged, I want to be a part of a larger conversation with the world. Especially because the streamers don’t care about movies. Trust me. They really, really, really, really don’t care. Because movies are just not economically viable for them. For one, movies have to display top notch competency (either popcorn or artistic) to draw you to pay a ticket price. But for streamers? They’re too expensive for the measly few hours they get out of them. And TV series are what makes sense for their model. Everything they’re doing now is a middle of the road bargain to steal the luster of the five major studios (or part of parent company machinations). So I will say this in as clear terms as possible: if you think streamers should be the new place to go for movies, you will help kill movies. I am not trying to be hysterical. I get that a lot of this is going to change anyway. But to the best of my ability, I will not hasten their death. I just love movies. And that love is as simple as it gets.

Now, with all that having been said, the point of doing these stupid year end lists is that they get you to do two important things:

1. Provide a chance to talk about the movies that never got their space in essays (especially if they deserved it). And…

2. Maybe provide some urgency in getting folks to something you might not have otherwise.

Now, two other notes. I actually did better than usual this year, but I still shamefully need to see a lot including: Encanto, Tick Tick Boom, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, Bergman Island, The Lost Daughter, Nine Days, Red Rocket, Coda, Being The Ricardos, The Paper Tigers, Shiva Baby, Riders of Justice, King Richard, Jacob’s Wife, Flee, Val, Malignant, Mass, and Benadetta (I can’t believe I haven’t seen a new Verhoeven yet).

Also, I always put a “*” asterisk in front of certain titles to represent when I know someone involved with the production, so take my opinion with a big ass grain of fucking salt. But not including movies I genuinely like also feels stupid. So take that as you will.

With that, let’s get to it:

NOBLE EFFORTS I WANTED TO LIKE MORE

These are the movies I really wanted to like, acknowledge had some good stuff going for them, but didn’t quite work for me. Though I understand mileage may vary.

Don’t Look Up - So I wrote in depth about this movie https://www.patreon.com/posts/short-note-on-of-60592672  and it may seem like I really didn’t like it, but I don’t know. As suspicious as I will be of their tact, I acknowledge that it’s hard to really judge what’s “effective” in terms of things aiming for the right goal.

Venom 2 - The two Venom movies actually get a fascinating question of how we glom onto art. Do you prefer a messy film that accidentally gets into interesting things seemingly by accident? Or do you prefer a film that knows what you find interesting / likable about it, and is even aiming for that pocket, but somehow comes up short? Because that’s how I feel about the two of them respectively and I think I somehow might like the first better?

The Card Counter - I haven’t written about it, but I think modern Schrader and I are at a bit of an impasse. So much is just the way he stoically characterizes certain things (like in this case, gambling) and always comes back to the same hang ups. One day I'll probably get to it, but for now let’s just go: “not for me, which also leaves me feeling out of it, but I’m still waiting for my take to fully click.” By the way, for all my headstrong essays, I have this kind of “I’m not sure yet” response way more than you think. But that’s why I, you know, don’t write about those films.

House of Gucci - This one is pretty much why I wanted to include the “noble efforts” category at all. Because it’s this absurd movie that is promising all these ridiculous, pulpy highs - and actually delivers on some of them! Like the sex scene (hahahha). Heck, it even provides this fascinating lens of how to look at the way different actors act (for instance, I love Irons and Pacino in it for different reasons and everyone else is like a train wreck). But after that functional first hour it just get soooooo lost in the morass of “and then this happens” storytelling, while somehow MISSING the big beats where characters actually changed. And I kind of can’t believe they messed up the most important line near the end. Like so much Ridley stuff, it’s gorgeous and finding interesting moments, but needed some script rejiggering. This really should’ve been something more grand.

Nobody - Maaaaan, “nobody” wanted to love this film more than me, but they do some really gross and heinous shit with the emasculation framing of his character, all before getting into the fun and games of the fisticuffs. It was just so unnecessary and dragged it into that ugly Wanted territory that I thought we left behind a decade and a half ago. It’s especially weird because the film’s penchant for fun and silliness (Chrisopher Lloyd!) should have been powering this movie from minute one. It’s a shame. Woulda loved it otherwise.

GOOD POPCORN TIMES!

Movies I liked and thought were really fun!

F9 - The ninth Fast film is kind of the perfect barometer movie for me this year. It was my first time back in a theater after the pandemic year. And I was finally seeing a big summer movie! The (fully masked) audience was there to have fun! Now, is it a good fast film? Or even close to the best of the series? Not really. But it absolutely has its moments (which I wrote about) and sometimes going to the movies is about the circumstances of things beyond. I am most thankful for the experience.

Black Widow - I really, really liked the first two thirds of this one and, my god, Florence Pugh is incredible - but the last third prompted this whole constructive dialogue about set-ups and pay-offs and what “last act” problems are really about.

*Last Night In Soho - Dammit, I could watch Wright direct anything. Particularly if it’s gonna be full of London in the Swinging 60’s and practical Texas Switches. There’s some little delays and hitches with script things in setting up the bait, but man is the style of this one infectious.

No Time To Die - I think I was pretty generous with my first view on this one, but a couple of key parts of miscasting and approach really stick with me long after https://www.patreon.com/posts/five-quick-about-57415171?l=fr . But it’s still beautiful. And weirdly soulful in its way. It even has some of my favorite little moments of the Craig era. But overall, I’m thankful for the run and looking forward to what comes next.

Spider-Man: No Way Home - I feel like we’ve reached the apex of this weird endless dare with the MCU to be more! More! More! With the endless insider referencing. Look, its charms are obvious, but I have to keep reminding the MCU insiders that, to the outsiders, it’s almost impenetrable. And in the end, rather than actually add up to something, it does all the marvel fake-out themes I’ve come to rue. In the end, I can walk out and simultaneously say “wow, that was a good time” while fearing for the entire future of cinema.

Dune - A movie that somehow did the impossible of adapting Dune into a dramatic, aesthetically-pleasing, and utterly-professional popcorn movie. Seriously, even though this approach tends to be less my style, I thought they did a really good job making it work. But it’s also probably a bad sign that I literally forgot I wrote a piece on it. 

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings - In my brain I can’t help but compare this film with Dune. Maybe it’s that I saw them close together? Or maybe it’s that they represent two different sides of the popcorn movie approach. For Dune, it is trying to make it most serious, to dramatize and imbue with importance. But Marvel always aims for the lark. But if there’s anything I hope I’ve communicated in the last decade of covering these damn movies, it’s that “the lark” is actually harrrrd to pull off. But while many MCU movies coast on likability, Shang-Chi does the damn work and thus does such a good job with so many important aspects. Honestly, it’s one story timing thing away from nailing the whole damn thing. It’s probably my favorite one since Black Panther.

Bad Trip - It’s one of those miracles of production more than anything where you wonder how they got this lucky in so many moments (hint: it’s because you have 100s of hours unused middling stuff). But my friend just put this on and I found myself suddenly enraptured with Eric Andre’s weird, semi narrative fever dream. You just give into it. Which makes me wonder what would happen if we just let Eric Andre be president and see if it somehow worked out better.

THE MOVIE THAT SHOT ITSELF IN THE FOOT

Licorice Pizza - So let’s get right to it. The two scenes with the asian restaurateur are a wreck. Sure, you “can see” that there’s possible baseline of trying to say this character is racist, with the horrific accent and interchangeable (to him) wives, but it’s such a bad handling of it that refrains from any cues of their ow personhood in the middle of it. This piece from Jen Yamato in the LA times calls it from “harmful at worst, tone deaf at best.” But the thing you can't shake is that the film secretly feels like it's kind of funny. After all, this is not once, but twice Anderson’s played in that space (with Josh Brolin yelling in Inherent Vice) and you just get that bad feeling in your gut. And the thing about stuff like this is it puts the viewer into this automatic bind. Because on paper, you’re asking them to separate “bad scenes” from the rest of the film. But the thing you’re really asking to separate is when your friends are like, “yeah, this movie dismissed my entire personhood.”  You can’t reconcile the two. It’s the old joke I always invoke where you’re inevitably asking “but other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?” But it's honestly a question for Anderson, who seemed caught off guard by the whole thing and still is. And yes, in the end, it takes away from every nuanced thing he’s trying to do with the film, which is a film that’s trying to show a lot of nuance in other arenas. Because for most of its running time, Licorice Pizza is this sprawling portrait of two confusing times of youth, the age where you’re 15 and trying to act like an adult, and the time you’re 25 and instead of taking the world by storm, you’re suddenly feeling like a kid. In the interplay between them, it acts like a movie deeply cognizant about the way age gets wielded like a weapon, along with our aspirations and absurdities that come along with it. Especially as it touches on a tiny showbiz world filled with the likes of Jon Peters and Jack Warden types. And all the while, it seems like it’s building to point about the pains of growing up. But Spoilers for the rest of the paragraph, it all goes to the space of the uneasy bargain, because it leaves a lot of space for interpretation ove how much this “joyful ending” is really all in his head. Sure, it gives us all the semiotic clues to see it that way, but leaves me also noticing that this is also not once, but twice where we were left with codified “dream” endings of bad romance (same for Phantom Thread) . Which can’t help but leave me with two big questions: What is the fantasy? And who is it really for?

I LIKED THEM, BUT HAVE WEIRD PERSONAL HANGUPS

Parallel Mothers - Probably the most emotionally messy film of the year? Like, good granola, I was having a heart attack watching the shit pile up. But maybe I should have known better. Almodovar is not afraid to let you bring your empathy to strange and hurtful places. But in the end, I mostly have trouble reconciling the ending bookmarks and what he’s really trying to go after in the main story - even though I think the aim is uniquely powerful.

BELLE - Now that I’m a WEEB I can tell you that Hosoda has become one of my favorite directors! And I was sooooo excited about going to see his new film in theaters. Interestingly enough, it was full of all of his trademark ambition, but I couldn’t help but feel like certain elements felt half-threaded (which I wrote about here). But in the end, there’s so few like him.

Evangelion 1.0 + 3.0 - I feel like this film was for everyone who spent two and half decades with the show and was looking for a cathartic way of letting go. But as someone who came to the series a few years ago and fell in love with it exactly as it was? The entire rebuild project felt like an odd and unnecessary venture. A remaking, a remixing, and rewriting of something that I didn’t really think needed any of it (wrote about it here). While I like this entry the most, especially Rei’s story, I can’t help but feel like it robbed us of a decade of Anno going off to do different things?

Luca - This film is gorgeous, thoughtful, deeply felt, but it’s yet another film I wanted to love unabashedly and can’t help but feel this weird hangup with. Because it runs headlong into these clear problems of what happens when you can’t be blunt about your metaphor. To which, I actually wrote about it in comparison to the spectacular effect of Turning Red.

West Side Story - As a critic, sometimes the most important thing to realize is that you’re not in a space to be fair. I mean, pretty much, the only time I ever stop movies is for that reason. And yes, I only got half-way through this film and decided I need to stop and come back to it at a later time. Because I admit, I kind of had an existential problem with this movie since its inception. The original is one of my favorite films of all time, one that defines the “how to” of doing a musical to me in so many ways - but it’s one that is absolutely an artifact of its time, too. I was filled with questions. Why remake it now? How? But please know, even with my concern, I had this deep sense of trust in it. Spielberg is one of my favorite directors ever. Tony Kushner wrote Angels in America, which is quite possibly my favorite piece of art. And Kaminski has shot a handful of the best films of all time. But the problem with cinema is everyone can be outrageously good at what they do, yet it’s still about how it all adds up. It can be “great” versus “right” for the project. And what we think is “right” can vary. For me, I felt like I was bumping into every part of it in different ways. I couldn’t help but constantly compare with something in my head. And the attempts to comment and modernize feel well-intentioned and yet I bumped, perhaps out of a sense of telling vs. the dramatization of the original. Similarly, everything glides over the amazing dancing, but so little feels like it hits in the edit. It makes it feel seamless, but that’s in stark contrast to what I adore in “the seams” of the original. But I realize how much of this is so deeply personal, just an argument in my head and a movie of the past. This is NOT an evaluation of the film. Because sometimes you gotta come back when you can be in the right space - and come to watch a movie for what it is. For which, I’ll be back.

Power of the Dog - Wait, It’s not higher!?!? Yeahhhh, I adore Campion, but I’ve wrestled with this film more than anything else this year. It’s not a matter of not understanding it and it’s incredibly brilliant machinations of storytelling and how she finds incredible moments of tension. It’s just I’ve been going back and forth about how it deals with a couple tropes - two tropes that I realize have had this miraculous impact on my life. Maybe one day I’ll have clarity. For now, I remain on pause.

I LOVED THEM WITHOUT RESERVATION!

Simple as that!

Barb and Star Go To Vista Del Mar - I love absurd comedies and this one hit like a damn balm. Plus it’s full of all sorts of unexpected surprises. The most unexpected? Who knew Jamie Dornan could do all that???

Annette - Everyone loves Baby Annette! We were perhaps expecting another vibrant, hypnotic show stopper in the tradition of Lovers on the Bridge or Holy Motors. Instead we got a purposefully-awkward digital opera which prompted me to write a whole piece about the use of garish aesthetics. All these months later, it’s a movie I can’t believe exists. And the only thing that left me wanting was that I wish we got a few more bangers from Sparks along the lines of “Shall We Start?”

*Werewolves Within - Horror comedies are maybe the hardest genre to pull off, but this was such a lovely surprise. Because it manages to pull off that loose, fun vibe while still having a script that feels as tight as a drum and completely focused on the whodunnit aspects. Moreover, between this and The Afterparty, I hope everyone is realizing Sam Richardson’s earnest / funny leading man potential.

The Tragedy of MacBeth - Shakespeare adaptation is so interesting to me. Because there is an inherent density to them, all because you are watching something in archaic, poetic language. Honestly, their function often relies on you having already learned it. Or, maybe they prove how much such language doesn’t even matter and show you can get by on showing action and behavior in the drama of cinema itself. Either way, every adaptation puts it all through a prism where choice gives rise to emotion or abstraction and or a thought about what adaptation really means… as if all ultimately designed to be studied in schools. Meanwhile, I have my own thoughts about adapting Shakespeare (which purists would likely hate), but Joel Coen’s version of the Scottish play is often electric. So many character actors get to do great work, but really it’s most fun to see Denzel Washington sink his teeth into the role, reminding us how good he really is when those trademark mannerisms get applied to a whole range of emotions. I’ve been waiting to see something like this from him for forever. Oddly enough, for Frances Mcdormand, I think it’s one of those cases where it seems like such a slam dunk, but I think her immediate severity hurts the role? Like, I’ve always believed the character works best when they have a more normalized exterior at first and the corrupting harm creeps in and takes all. But maybe I’m wrong. All I know is that when it comes to the most transcendent aspect of the film, it’s Kathryn Hunter as the witches. To put it simply, it is one of the most incredible unifications of performance and direction that I have ever seen. Honestly, I have never seen something feel so otherworldly and yet primordial. She’s completely hypnotic. And it’s the depiction that cements the film's legacy in the canon of “shakespeare stuff” that cannot be missed. Months later, I still feel like I see her out of the corner of my eye.

*The Green Knight - When describing A Ghost Story the filmmakers said, to paraphrase “we couldn’t explain it, we just had to make it first.” Once again, this is true for The Green Knight. On paper it’s a retelling of the famous Arthurian legend, but this adaptation actually manages to evoke the uneasy horror and fantastical edges of medieval literature. More importantly, at its core it uses the framework of the legend to make such an insightful characterization of what it means to be among the brazen young. Most impressive of all, it takes the incredibly complicated “ending” of this story and completely nails the dismount. I love it.

The Suicide Squad - The film feels like an unlikely miracle. In the midst of superhero saturation, Gunn managed to jump over to D.C. for a spell and use the entire leftover toy box to craft something genuinely funny, weird, violent, angry at the right targets, and yet still deeply heartfelt. For that, it’s a testament to writing craft above all else. I think they even figured out Idris Elba’s leading man persona? I still need to watch Peacemaker, but after that I’m pumped.

Nightmare Alley - Got this one in right under the gun (I watched it the day of the Oscars) and I’m so mad I didn’t get to it earlier. For one, I just love the way Del Toro makes movies. He’s so good at making every shot feel like it has a real sense of depth and space to it, while showcasing this remarkable way of splitting a tone between gory viscera and living adoration. Really, it’s because there is empathy for both. This time, he’s playing with the familiar aesthetics of 1940’s carnie culture and we see his trademark adoration for the “monsters” and weirdos of society, while setting his sights on the real demons within the hearts of men. In any one else’s hands, it would be easy to see the first hour as a delay, but you can feel every ounce of joy as Del Toro takes you through the world of Carnie-dom (and all of it really ends up being crucial to the story). I had never seen the original so I can’t compare, but I think the film nails the arc of old-timey tragedy. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, “no man can outrun god” indeed.

The Matrix Resurrections - I unabashedly love this weird as hell movie. Faced with the series being taken out of their hands, Lana Wachowski returned and ended up making one of the most personal and meta “tentpole” movies of the last… forever? I mean it’s a movie that directly engages its own need to exist, along with contemplating its past and how it has been weaponized against their intentions. And it does not care one iota about evoking the familiar look and action feel of the prior trilogy, complete with Neo barely even fighting (and often making the choice to literally repel fighting itself). But Lana could not care less about what you think the film *should* be doing. And instead she made a film that strives for beautiful moments and even the indomitable spirit of a cosmic love story - and in doing so, actually reevaluates an entire sense of identity in the process. As much as it’s a joke, she’s putting it clearly… they “painted the sky with rainbows” indeed.

THE TOP TWELVE

My favorite movies of the year, full stop. Sometimes it’s that they were incredibly thoughtful, misunderstood, fascinating, or most of the time, deeply emotional experiences for me.

The Last Duel

I feel like it’s a movie that got swallowed up by assumption before people even saw it? Heck, it even just became an Oscar punchline. It’s like people looked at the goofy, mostly era-appropriate hair and just assumed it mishandled everything within. Granted, I really do get the fear. And people understandably said they had no interest in “rape Rashomon,” for equally fair reasons. But, the whole point is that’s not what it is. In fact, the film offers a pretty squarely a surgical take down of every harmful component of modern culture’s treatment of sexual assault, from masculine insecurity, to ownership of women’s bodies, and ultimately upholds the most incredible, centered empathy for Jodie Comer’s plight and personhood. She really gave a performance worthy of hundreds of awards. But honestly, I feel like I’m the last one who can speak to all this. There are so many better people to talk about this than me (this essay is great) and the endless things the film has to say. I know it’s not an easy watch, but I feel like there’s something so strange about how this film became a punchline in popular culture, when if you really look at it, it’s saying a million things that that same culture needs to reckon with.

The Many Saints of Newark

Like the film above, it feels like one of the most misunderstood films of the year? But please know going in, This Sopranos prequel has MAJOR spoilers for the show right from the start, so don’t watch on its own. But I feel like so many fans watched this and got angry at its choices… even though they’re doing exactly what the show did? I mean, The Sopranos ALWAYS did the bait and switch with conflict, always aiming for the more petty and personal. Similarly, this film tackles so much of the nonsense myth making of Italian mobster culture and the blame game of the Newark riots, not to mention reframing the entire architecture of the show when it comes to certain characters and the relationships. As someone on their sixth watch of the series, it’s been fascinating to see the way it casts a shadow over everything. And to everyone complaining about the fact that young Silvio comes off like a cartoon, put clips of them side by side and see that it’s the exact same mannerisms. Little Steven always played it like that. So I’m filled with questions. Why is there this constant state of denial over what this property is really like? Why is The Sopranos some different show in everyone’s head? Why does the audience always act like it's some action drama when it’s more interested in pathetic comedy? Why does it always buck expectations and then the audience freaks out like the show has never done it before? Why do I feel like that part of the audience is like Sideshow Bob and the rakes? From minute one, Chase has never, ever let the show have a moment of indulgence… So why would he start now?

*No Sudden Move

Soderbergh’s latest period has had him churning out functional, fun, “shoot from the hip” style genre movies and this is probably the best of them (at least until Kimi this year). I get why some folks bounced off this, one whether it be the wall-eye distortion that has a real impact on viewers with vision impairment - or the fact that’s a pretty dense and verbally-driven script. But it played like gangbusters for me. Just a slow spinning out of all these nesting doll reveals. But all anchored by an incredible Don Cheadle performance as an old, fading point man who's just trying to squeak by. I’d argue it’s one of his best of all time. But after all these months, it’s that near-the-last line of (vague spoilers I guess?) “you can be trusted,” that sticks with me. It’s  such a subtle, incredible plea that unlocks the weird heart of the movie. I can't stop thinking about the phrasing and how much the film really rides on it. Just spectacular.

Titane

“It’s! About! Dads!” That’s what my friend shouted excitedly after we saw it, but Julia Ducournau’s follow-up to Raw is about a lot of things - though it’s just as transfixing, violent, and inescapable. But I feel like it’s one of those films that can get a deep-dive semiotic essay because so much of it is still brewing in my mind. Right now, I’m still in the visceral feelings stage - because it’s so good  at evoking that aching nature of what we’ve lost and what we want people to be - and what we want them not to be. For now, I’ll settle for the fact that there’s twenty shots that are burned into my mind. And I’ll never hear Future Islands’ “Lighthouse” the same way again.

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn

I’m always trapped between wanting to explain everything about this movie and wanting to say nothing. But I will say this, only because it go edited on Hulu and you deserve to know: it starts with a graphic, full-on, funny sex tape… and they censored it. I find this so upsetting for two reasons. The first is because it bodes awfully for the future of streaming and its relationship to art films that adults are fucking fully grown adults are going to see. And two, it speaks to literally the entire thesis of the film and how the basic appearance of a woman’s sexuality can cause society to lose its fucking mind. And boy does director Radu Jude get into all of it, even the entire cultural and political history of a country and in that way it actually ended up reminding me of Godard’s 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her (but you know, more sensitive). My friend from Romania described it as “the most Romanian movie ever” and now I have a million questions. But rather than ask them or spoil any more of where the film ultimately goes (if you’ve seen it, you know), just know it’s worth seeing for yourself.

INSIDE

There’s no film I watched more times this year than Bo Burnham’s Inside. I’m as surprised as you. I was part of an audience that thought Eighth Grade was great, but I had only seen bits of his stand-up before. But suddenly I was thrown into a “comedy” space of someone actually trying to contextualize and reckon the maddeningly lonesome rooms we’d all been existing in for the pandemic. Unlike a lot of comedies, it ignored nothing. It was full of stark introspection, anger, cynicism, and dissociation - and through sheer force of will, it characterized the slow deterioration that so many of us felt. And finding a piece of art that mirrored all that without trying to blanket over false promises of “hope” was actually the most cathartic part. A year later, all songs remained locked in memorization… Jeffrey... Jeffrey Beeeezos.

Petite Maman

Leave it to Celine Sciama to take the pandemic as an opportunity to make one of the most quiet, understated films of the year (I think it should be coming out soon, but I’m so mad at the delayed release for wide). It’s also wonderfully short, too. But the film straddles this perfectly-knowing line of sadness and playfulness that’s hard to describe (it’s kind of like Celine and Julie Go Boating). But in the end it’s going for this deeply powerful expression of the moment of childhood where you, as a child, realize that your parents are people. That they, too, have youth inside them and a series of old wounds that are so hard to understand. But you innately come to understand that you can help them feel them in turn. It’s that one line, “I come from this path behind you” that still sticks with me. Sciamma has now made two of the best of my favorite films of the last three years. Cheers to that.

The Worst Person In The World

Yet another film I don’t want to spoil, but want to talk endlessly about. Because it’s a beautifully-written film about looking for selfhood within relationships, the masks of self-hatred, the wounds that sting, and how the arc of time makes us reflect ourselves in the other. It still kind of boggles my mind that some people are finding the characters hollow when they’re drawn so succinctly??? Like, I worry it has to do with Norwegian speaking rhythms or something???? Because in the end, it so understands the reality of what we lost, what we gained, and what we can carry with us inside. But gah, to talk Spoilers for the rest of the paragraph, when you realize you’re watching a film that’s a bit of an heir to Terms of Endearment, you reckon with the depth of what you’ve really been seeing the whole time. In that, it’s one of the most artfully drawn eulogies about the damage we cause, the shortness and length of time, and what we need to heal inside ourselves.

The French Dispatch

I get why people may have bounced off it. It’s dense, non-narrative, and maybe even a little exhausting. But it’s those same qualities that make it the most thematically-rich film that Wes Anderson has ever made. To the point that I felt compelled to write a 22,000 word mini-book on every little brilliant detail. Because Anderson has left us with something grand. A funny, non-judgmental film about perspective, insight, the secondary art, youth, politics, our impact on stories, and also understanding what parts of the stories we have the right to tell. I was moved to tears, like, six times. I think it’s incredible. Maybe even his best.

C’mon C’mon

It’s absolutely the candidate for “the most slept on film of the year,” especially because I feel like no one is making movies like Mike Mills. They’re just so achingly sensitive. And in a world where we so often make art about flawed or even contemptible characters, he’s making films about how hard it is to live even when you are doing your best to be as decent as possible. Because, in the end, life is so achingly fragile. And this film is really just centered around the prospect of an Uncle and mom having a delicate conversation with a young boy - one who is going to have to reckon with a troubling aspect of his life going forward (that his father is mentally ill). The whole time I felt like my heart was going to burst. For it understands the preciousness of a child’s brain, but knows you can’t keep them living in denial. It’s a movie that represents every conversation I wish an adult had with me, especially because it comes together so powerfully. For in the end, it’s a movie, quite literally, about the power of release and the power of actually listening to everyone around you. Please see it if you haven’t. It’s incredible.

Pig

Have you ever had a movie where people constantly tell you that they can’t wait for you to see it? Like, not in the general sense, but YOU specifically because they know you well? And then when you finally see it you’re like, “OH FUCK YUP. ABSOLUTELY,” and you cry a lot? Yeah, that was Pig for me. But I honestly love that it kind of sold as “John Wick, but they took his pig,” because it’s only a starting point before the movie starts unfolding itself so gracefully. It’s like every 20 minutes I was like, “wait, is THIS the movie???” Especially when it starts firing off nuggets of wisdom we should all be holding in hearts. And when you start getting to those final spaces, all the dominoes start falling and it gives way to one of the most powerful experiences. Because it’s a movie about being haunted while walling off grief, and the things it takes to really break down those barriers (wrote about it all here). I already love Cage, but this is an incredible feat. His best work. And how it wasn’t Oscar-nominated I’ll never know, but the path has always been a farce. This film deserved all the acclaim in the world. Which is why all year this and C’mon C’mon sat at the vague “top of my list,” because I couldn’t imagine I’d have a more powerful experience than I did with both of them.

And then something came along…

Drive My Car

There are few things more engrossing than riveting stillness. A lot of films try… And fail. You’ll see these ornate frames and composed silences. But underneath that artifice, they’re often missing the storytelling basics. The things that have to be established to put you in the headspace of characters. Because as a storyteller and audience, you have to know where the tension is. And you have to slowly chip away at it to build catharsis. During the three hour run time of Drive My Car, every character is on the verge of letting things out, but instead strike these horrible bargains within. You see it all on their faces. And no matter how small or intimate, the stakes always feel immense. But perhaps it’s no surprise that this film is so aware of the conventions of theater, and specifically Chekhov, where the moments in between can speak volumes. And where the words that are actually said can strike like daggers. After decades of exposure, I’ve never seen Chekhov’s work feel so alive. And I’ve never seen a film play so lovingly like an ode to Kairostami, all before cutting loose and going for our hearts with targeted assurance. Heck, at the end of act 2, they even call their shot in bringing the emotion “to the audience.” All to craft the transcendence of “the genuine moment.”

But the final hour is not an array of singular moments, but a series of continued catharsis built from every second that has come before. It cut no corners. It made every character feel real and lived in. And in execution it understands that it needs no tricks beyond the power of shot reverse shot (like the car confessions). It aims big. And it aims deep. For it’s a film that wraps its hands around life itself and asks, “How? How do we live with this? How do we live with ourselves and the people who have hurt us? And that we have hurt in turn?” How do we keep letting the genuine moments slip by? How do we not become lost to it?” You nearly get lost with it. But in so much repetition of the lines of pain, it somehow makes you forget the final words of Uncle Vanya that are coming… and never have they felt so earned. By the final denouement that earns the title, you finally come back to the world… having changed.

I’ve come to really dislike the world masterpiece because it gets into too many questions of qualification. All I can say is that Ryûsuke Hamaguchi has made a film that feels crucial. Like it needs to exist for everything going forward. The imbues form, theme, writing, performance, and a deep understanding of art and communication - all to craft something that transcends barriers and connects us - to the point that it, you know, wins an oscar and gets nominated for best picture and stuff. But all those designations feel hollow and mechanical in comparison to the emotional space of the film itself. Every time I even think about parts of this movie I start breaking out into tears.

It, in and of itself, is the genuine moment.

<3HULK