The Best Films of the 2010s

I never intended to take long breaks between articles I write here. I always told myself that this would be a perfect outlet for the few people who are interested in the random opinions rolling around in my head. But the fact is I started this blog more than 10 years ago  – my first post was in March 2009 and I missed the anniversary. I once had dreams this would get someone’s attention and be the first step on a journey that would lead me on an exciting journey around the world, writing about some of the best films and getting an opportunity to speak to some of the most creative people on the planet.

It did lead me to a few fun paths. I’ve been doing a podcast with some great friends of mine for five years now – we just passed our 200th movie this year. I do write once a month for and am proud of the work I do there – most of it, anyway. But eventually, life just kept happening. My friends have gotten married and are having children now. I’ve been working full time and have had the opportunity to work with some terrific people. But, well – when I thought about this tiny space on the corner of the internet, I realized what it said about my life now. I learned – quickly – that the world was rapidly changing and some of my existing beliefs weren’t going to match the new reality.

The more I think about the 2010s, the more I realize that seemingly all of human civilization went through the same thought process. Yes, the end of the 2000s were awful due to the financial crash, but there were seemingly so many opportunities at the start of the new decade. New businesses were disrupting the traditional market and leading to exciting new opportunities. Streaming services were (finally) destroying cable and video rental. Social media was mainstream but there was still a sense that this would be the great unifying force of the world that would finally help us create a utopia built on sharing knowledge with each other.

I know some people laughed at that last paragraph, because well…all of that is wrong. We weren’t moving to a bright future. Instead, we have a large portion of the population who was afraid of change and afraid the world was passing them by. So they fought tooth and nail to bring back debates I thought were long ago settled – ideas like whether or not Nazis are evil and deserve a nice smack to the head, whether or not businesses shouldn’t treat employees like a valuable resource and instead treat them like they’re supporting characters in a Dickens novel, how the rich deserve to be fetishized and can’t possibly do anything bad, precisely because they’re rich, and best of all, whether or not a head of state should act like some sort of mutant cross between Tony Soprano and George Wallace. And, the golden age of streaming is officially over. Media companies and content providers have morphed into exactly the kind of monopoly we hoped they would destroy. Worst of all, content has less and less value, especially to the people who worked to create it.

Halfway through the decade, we all realized that we can’t assume regression won’t happen – we need to keep fighting to go forward. Humans are flawed and some people will support evil, even if they don’t want to admit that fact to themselves. And while it’s far easier to deny reality and use social media to create a bubble from what we don’t want to hear, trapping the entire world in that bubble is only going to get people hurt – or worse.

But the most important thing is that you should never give up what you enjoy doing. Even if it doesn’t lead you down the path you thought it would, it can still make for a great journey.

And that’s why I’m writing this now. This temporary break from reality to rank the best movies of the last decade is exactly what I sometimes need.

I’ve typed more than 700 words so far and haven’t mentioned a single film I want to highlight. (You try to summarize a decade in a mere paragraph.) The best movies of the 2010s are the ones that offered hope and made us remember that better lives are still worth fighting for. Some of the ones I’m going to discuss were big-budget films about superheroes. Others were introspective independent dramas that didn’t make the money they deserved to make. I have a feeling that different writers’ “Top Ten” lists of this decade are going to be wildly different. Not necessarily by design, but because the average person’s time at the cinema has become just as fragmented as everything else in our world. I have a feeling my number one pick is going to be very controversial and will require a lot of explanation. But we’re just getting started.

First, I want to highlight some honorable mentions. These are the films that I’m still thinking about almost ten years later, but lack the gravitas required to rank them as films that define the entire decade. Still, each one is a masterpiece in its own right and everyone should check them out. (If you want to skip all this and go directly to the list, click here.)

Arrival (dir: Denis Villeneuve) – I struggled on whether I should highlight the excellent Blade Runner 2049 or this film. I decided on Arrival for two reasons. First, it seemed redundant to include multiple franchise revivals on this list (spoilers for later). But more importantly, Arrival had a positive message about the future of humanity. Maybe that wouldn’t have been enough to win praise in any other decade, but this decade needed hope like a man wandering a desert needs water. Everything people do matters. We’re just limited in our perception of our lives. Maybe, millennia from now, this movie will seem even more prescient.

The Big Short (dir: Adam McKay) – A significant portion of the early 2010s was spent looking back at the 2008 financial crisis and trying to determine how to prevent that from happening again. Of course, no one ever decided the best way forward and we eventually all forgot about finding a solution. The Big Short was a healthy reminder of how so many people got away with wrecking the economy and destroying people’s futures. The film took the time to explain what happened to an audience that doesn’t know what collateralized debt obligations are. Sure, it may have been a touch too heavy-handed in those moments, but those scenes certainly made an impression on me. The film was trying to get everyone to take another look at our failures –  and that warning has become even louder since the film’s release.

Drive (dir: Nicolas Winding Refn)- I’m not at my superlatives of the decade yet, but I think I would give “most wasted potential” to Refn. His films have become increasingly alienating and he’s been struggling more and more to get his works greenlit. I admire how Only God Forgives went for broke, but that doesn’t change the fact it has one of the most boring protagonists ever in fiction. And The Neon Demon was completely forgettable (minus Keanu Reeves as a seedy motel manager) until it crossed into the utterly incomprehensible by the end of its run time. But Drive remains an incredible crime film where all the pieces fit seamlessly together. We’re barely told anything about the titular driver (not even his name) but by the end of the film we’ve learned so much about him just by listening to the few things he says. He’s a man who doesn’t want redemption for himself, but to help the innocent people who’ve become trapped in the underworld he inhabits. It reminds me a lot of Michael Mann’s Thief. Crime is not an act to be glorified or boasted about. It’s something desperate and grimy. It doesn’t matter how “cool” you make your criminals appear – at the end, they’ll get exactly what they deserve. The film may not be completely original in its content, but it tells an old story in a new way. And the soundtrack is one of the greatest film soundtracks ever.

The Favourite (dir: Yorgos Lanthimos) – I wanted to highlight Yorgos Lanthimos because he had an incredible run in the 2010s, starting with Dogtooth. (Yes, I know it was released at festivals throughout 2009, but it didn’t premiere in the U.S. until January 2010, so I’m counting it.) His films were some of the most controversial, the strangest, the most disturbing, and the most beautiful of the decade. The Favourite is the perfect Lanthimos film to highlight because it has all the qualities of his work and it’s by far the most accessible film he made. Lanthimos used the story of Queen Anne  to create a Shakespearean dark comedy about betrayal and manipulation in a way that still resonates today. Over the past three years, we’ve seen people eager to get as close as possible to the centers of power and only to end up ruined, the servant of an individual who has no love for anyone but themselves. In today’s political climate, The Favourite is practically a documentary. And the ending is one of my personal favorites of all time – everyone else agrees that Lady Sarah knew exactly what she was doing, right?

 Gravity (dir: Alfonso Cuarón) – The 2010s were marked by an increasing division between popular blockbusters and the award bait Oscar winners. Ten years before Gravity was released, Best Picture winner Lord of the Rings: Return of the King debuted in theaters. Everyone saw it and everyone had an opinion on it.  But films that are both critical favorites and popular with audiences have increasingly disappeared. Gravity is one of the few films of the decade that managed to remind everyone what a director can still accomplish when trying to make a film for everyone. The story of Gravity, about an astronaut trying to get back to Earth after her ship is destroyed, is almost irrelevant. What matters is how Alfonso Cuaron took the material and made the best, most innovative film he possibly could. There have been movies that have been set in outer space, but Gravity is one of the few films that feels like it was actually filmed in outer space. And most importantly, the characters aren’t just used as something to explain the special effects that threaten them. We want Ryan Stone to get back home and that desire only increases as the film goes on. Not even Marvel movies kept me in such suspense or made me care about the protagonists as deeply as Gravity did.

Green Room (dir: Jeremy Saulnier) – This is the perfect film to summarize what, exactly, has happened to our world. It’s nominally a thriller set almost entirely in one run down concert venue as an aspiring punk band witnesses a murder and tries to escape before the white nationalist club owners can permanently silence them all. But it’s also about how the rise of white nationalism seemingly caught everyone off guard. Who would have imagined that Green Room would have come to life just a year later in Charlottesville? At the start of the decade it would have seemed like science fiction. Now, the film serves as a stark warning to us. The people who used to put on white hoods never went away. They plugged along on the fringes where they were ignored (like the secluded concert venue in this film) only to come back as empowered and as dangerous as they ever were. Even minor victories over them would still leave behind a lot of destruction and chaos. If we’re going to effectively destroy them, we can’t just depend on singing Dead Kennedy’s songs to make them go away.

Inception (dir: Christopher Nolan) – Christopher Nolan has made two types of film in his career. His movies either start from a strong central idea and are allowed to flourish from that center (like Memento, The Dark Knight, and Dunkirk), or he piles on as many loose ideas as he can into a giant blob in the hopes that the movie will work (like Interstellar or The Dark Knight Rises). Inception fits into the former. It’s a fantastic idea about how memories and dreams make a person – and how the people with power are those who can shape a person’s dreams. The movie would be noteworthy for its special effects – particularly the hallway scene. I remember people cheering after they first saw Joseph Gordon Levett literally fight people on the ceiling. But even more importantly, the film wraps deep philosophical ideas around its action movie cloak. It’s asking the biggest question of all – what can make us change our mind? And even if we can change our mind, can we change who we are? And that’s a question that we still desperately need to answer.

Nebraska (dir: Alexander Payne) – “OK Boomer” has become the last big hashtag of the 2010s. It’s an easy way for younger generations to dismiss older ones after baby boomers grew further and further away from the issues that millennials believe should be defining the national discussion. It may feel satisfying, but I’m not sure how much it will accomplish. If we’re going to bring everyone back together, we need movies like Nebraska. This is the best film of the decade about aging and obsolescence. Woody Grant is a man with a singular focus – he wants the million dollars he supposed won in a mailing contest. He barely listens to his son as he tries to make it to the office that will supposedly give him his reward. Everyone around him knows it’s a fraud, but that doesn’t deter Woody. Yet when he lets the mask drop, we see how much pain he’s hiding. His confusion is reflected by the other characters in his hometown. Everyone in Lincoln, Nebraska is cut off from the world, obsessed with a half remembered past. The scene of Woody walking through the house shows just how afraid Woody is of his future and why he’s so eager to be disconnected from reality. (“This was my parents’ room. I got whipped if they found me in here. I guess nobody’s gonna whip me now,” Woody says, as he wanders the decaying ruins of the farmhouse.) If films like Nebraska can help everyone understand that fear of letting the world slip through our fingers, maybe we’ll be ready to tell them that driving down the ruined Main Street of their home towns can still be a triumphant gesture.

We Need to Talk About Kevin (dir: Lynne Ramsey) – There are a lot of other reviewers who put movies like The Witch and Hereditary on the best lists of the year – particularly if they’re ranking horror films. But, even though I admire the skill behind their creation, those weren’t really scary to me. I can only think of a few movies that did. Green Room was one, and We Need to Talk About Kevin is another. The film is a character study, not about Kevin, but about his mother Eva. As the film opens, she is trying to come to terms with the school massacre her teenage son has just carried out. Then the film works backwards, showing us how we got to that moment – and how early and deep the seeds of violence are planted in her son. Kevin is an absolute monster, but the film wants us to look at Eva and see how much we still pressure women to have superhuman abilities when it comes to raising children. The film is horrifying because we’ve seen Kevin’s story countless times in the news – and in watching Eva’s story, we realize there aren’t any easy ways to stop the Kevins of the world.

Waves (dir: Trey Edward Shults) – This story of an African American upper middle class family is the most recent film I want to highlight my countdown. Waves manages to be about several lives and focus on several things without seeming jumbled or random. I thought I knew who the protagonist is and what sort of “coming of age” battle they’ll face. Then the film completely changes course at the halfway mark. Best of all, it feels perfectly natural. It takes bravery to abandon established characters midway through the film and it takes intelligence to make it work. And the film doesn’t forget to treat its characters as flesh and blood people instead of symbols. Sometimes they’re angry, sometimes they’re frustrated, sometimes they’re excited, sometimes they hate each other, and sometimes they love each other despite what they’ve been through. Waves is a refreshing antidote to the blockbusters that treat their protagonists as symbols and I sincerely hope Sterling K. Brown gets an Oscar.

This next section is where I want to give out the “special jury prizes.” Film festivals give these prizes to highlight special achievements that otherwise would fall through the cracks. I want to to call special attention to specific genres and film movements that I believe had an enormous impact on the decade, even if they aren’t on my top ten list.

The Philo Farnsworth Special Jury Prize for Best TV Narrative:

Sometime in the late 2000s, film and television started to be treated as equals. Television showsallowed creators to explore complex themes and characters over a much longer period of time and became a greater part of the popular discourse than they’d ever been. Sure, Friends may have garnered huge ratings in the nineties…but no sane person would say the show had the same impact as Pulp Fiction. Part of this was because the way we watched TV changed. Before streaming, an episode of any given TV show was designed to be aired and then forgotten in the course of a week. Streaming platforms allowed viewers to take as much time as they wanted with a show and stories could be more intertwined and dependent on what came before the most recent installment. I have a feeling this is a big reason why so many shows are being revived on streaming platforms and not endlessly stuck in syndication. The brands are recognized but the shows themselves become hopelessly dated.

It’s to the point where the most popular franchise in the world (The Marvel Cinematic Universe) is essentially the highest budgeted TV show ever created, where the characters’ arcs are played out across multiple “episodes” and the “series finale” is what everyone will be talking about after it’s released.

But while they’ve grown closer together, there still aren’t any TV shows that are being properly compared to films. I want to highlight one TV show that sought to replicate what could have only been done in a movie a mere ten years ago.

It’s a revival, but it’s a revival that did everything correctly. The creators had been long absent from making films – both hadn’t done anything for about 11 years. They were given an opportunity to recreate their most famous work and didn’t just use it to stir nostalgic feelings in viewers. Rather, they used it to forward the story, resolve many of the unresolved plot threads that had driven fans crazy for decades, and show exactly what they’d learned in 25 years.

Twin Peaks: The Return (dir: David Lynch)

The first series changed television forever, allowing it to be a medium that could handle high drama. It made TV respectable. Lynch had already been nominated for Best Director at the Oscars – twice – and here he was writing and directing a network TV show. In 1990, that didn’t happen.

And then, 25 years later, he did the same thing with the same franchise, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable to show on television. The most famous episode of the new season only has about ten minutes of dialogue (not counting the Nine Inch Nails performance). The rest of the episode is a long form art film built on abstract images and music that no sane head of any network would have allowed to be broadcast.

Yes, I know there were people who were disappointed about the lack of the “real” Dale Cooper and the fact that it ends on another cliffhanger. (Or does it?) But people started to turn against the original show in the second season and that didn’t stop it from having an enormous impact on television. I can’t wait to see what this series inspires other creators to do.

The F.W. Murnau Silver Medal For Best Foreign Film:

There was a French film released that caused quite a stir when it was first released, even getting an NC-17 rating. It was also one of the best love stories of the decade.

The movie works precisely because it’s not just about romantic longing. It’s how those feelings can change a person over the course of time. There are great moments, and there is also heartbreak. But in the end, what matters is the connection that people shared, however long that connection lasts.

There was a lot of focus on the sex scenes in the movies, with gay couples saying it doesn’t resemble what they actually do with their partners. I understand the criticism but the film isn’t supposed to be a documentary. It’s like saying Saving Private Ryan is bad because Tom Hanks didn’t really go through basic training. Films are about emotional truth and, while watching a movie, we’re invited to share in feelings and emotions we would not get anywhere else. The sex in the movie isn’t about titillation. It’s about a couple being honest about their desires and achieving something they crave, even if they still don’t understand why they want it yet.

Blue is the Warmest Color (dir: Abdellatif Kechice)

It’s unlikely the actors and the director will ever reunite – the two leads said in interviews they will never work with the director again. That’s real life imitating art. Both of the lead actresses have become very successful and moved forward with their careers – like their characters do in the film. There may have been pain making the movie, but no one involved can deny it’s an important part of their lives.

I wish more romance films were like this. There’s a tenderness to the characters andthere’s never any hint that the two people at the center of this movie are not equals. They’re both trying to navigate their feelings for each other and figure out the best way to express them.

The Fritz Lang Special Jury Prize for Best Foreign Film:

What could top Blue is the Warmest Color?

There was another film that, to me, was a perfect reflection of the world around me. It addressed the desperation of fleeing refugees and broken families around the world. People in war torn nations are finding not safety, but scorn when they attempt to flee. And having a kid sue his parents for allowing him to be born into a world that doesn’t want him has become especially relevant as Generation Z comes of age and finds that the previous generations are still trying to raise them in their world – a world that doesn’t take their concerns seriously.

The more I think about it, the more I feel recognizing this as the best foreign film of the decade is the only decision I could reasonably make. This movie encapsulates so much about a desperation that people everywhere feel. While the aforementioned law suit is not the main focus of the film, it’s something that I would have laughed at ten years ago. Not anymore.

Capernaum (dir: Nadine Labaki)

The film is now officially the highest grossing Arabic film in history. I’m surprised it took this long considering how often people try to frame stories of refugees and runaways in a compassionate way. This film did for me what a lot mainstream news outlets couldn’t do. It made me realize how important  12 year old Zain is to the world.

Yes, he is guilty of stabbing someone. But, after seeing what he’s been through, that’s the only logical choice he has. He’s slowly learning about the adult world after years of being shielded from it and figuring out how cruelly it betrays children.

The world Zain inhabits is scary and he’s lucky he found kindness from even a few people. Yet the film still ends on a hopeful note. This decade has been marked by a return to a divisive, tribal mentality where people don’t want to know about anything that’s happening thousands of miles away. But the film ends as Zain finally manages to smile. By venturing away from home, he realized that he actually did have an impact on the world. His existence is important. And he has a right to change his world.

The George O Squier Special Jury Prize for Outstanding Services in Streaming:

I couldn’t figure out where else I could recognize this next film. It’s too old to actually be considered for a “best of the 2010s” list. For another, the content of the film isn’t the most important aspect of if (even though it’s a great introspective work). What matters is the fact that we finally had a chance to see this movie at all.

Streaming, like multiplexes, was supposed to be the best way for people to watch whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter if they wanted to see last year’s Best Picture winner, last year’s Marvel blockbuster, or even an independent film that was struggling to get a major release. All films were equal and everyone could access them.

That’s not what happened. The focus is centered on original content for Netflix and other media companies are holding onto their intellectual property like some sort of nerd Ebeneezer Scrooge so people would be forced to shell out more money to watch reruns of a 20 year old sitcom. For me, this was just another example of us regressing back to the place we started when Netflix killed Blockbuster. People are not going to be able to afford every possible service they’ll need to see what they want and I’m not optimistic about the next ten years.

But there was one example when streaming demonstrated what it could do if its owners used correctly. In this case, we finally had a chance to see a film that had been languishing in a vault in Paris for more than 40 years. Originally, only a select few could see even limited clips of it. And considering how another one of Orson Welles’ unreleased films was treated when it was put together by Jesus Franco, we should be grateful that Netflix bother to give Welles’ final film the attention it deserved.

The Other Side of the Wind (dir: Orson Welles)

Orson Welles made this film late in his career as a reaction to the New Hollywood movement and the European New Wave movements that claimed him as a major inspiration. But at the time when Godard and Truffaut were citing him and an inspiration, Welles himself was viewed as a joke – a Macy’s Day balloon caricature who was more content to make talk show appearances than to finish his films.

Welles viewed this as his comeback. He wanted to show that he could do exactly what the crazy kids could do and he succeeded. I don’t know what would have happened if the film had received a release in the 1970s. Perhaps it would have been treated as too incomprehensible and nothing about Welles’ career would have changed at all.

But the film is no longer a “what-if.” Its release allows us to see that Welles still had his creative spark and still wanted to make films. And, in his own way, he set the template for the 1990s indie film boom by creating great spectacles with minimal resources. Everyone working today owes him a debt, and Netflix finally allowed a small portion of it to be repaid. I hope that streaming will allow us to see more lost projects like this.

The Chuck Jones Special Jury Prize for Best Animated Film:

I was fortunate to grow up during the second golden age of animation. Pixar showed us how animated films could deliver the same emotional impact as the best Hollywood dramas. TV shows like The Simpsons demonstrated that animation didn’t just have to be for children. The Disney Renaissance produced some great films that made the medium more respectful than it had been for a generation.

Unfortunately, those attitudes have stumbled a bit. There are still some great animated films, we’ve moved into an era of recycling existing property instead of using animation to explore new ideas. There’s absolutely no artistic reason for Frozen II to exist and everyone knows it.

It’s ironic then that my pick for the best animated film of the decade is based on an existing property that’s already received multiple live action adaptations. But this film showed how animation can help tell a story. The film is filled with multiple sight gags and a colorful palette that would be impossible to replicate in live action. Additionally, the characters can be much more faithful to the source material. Comic heroes are supposed to be larger than life figures that could never exist in our world. Transporting some of them into live action (like Ultron) takes away their impact. But here, we’re not only introduced to a character everyone knows, but multiple variations of that character and each have a different artistic style. They all seem different, but they all feel the same burdens and responsibilities.

Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse (dir: Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman)

I like “parallel universe” stories because they make for an interesting contrast with what everyone already knows. They let authors take the basics of a character and build on  them. So we get a Spider-ham that pulls mallets out of his spider suit, we get a depressed Peter Parker whose personal life has been ruined, and we get a Miles Morales, a new Spider-man who desperately wants to be a hero – but doesn’t know what he will have to give up to do so. And this Kingpin is the best version of the character I imagine we’re ever going to get. He’s out to destroy the world – not out of malice, but to recover from the pain of what was taken away from him. New York’s destruction is merely unfortunate collateral damage. Every single character lets the mask drop and shows their humanity, even if they come from worlds that don’t come close to matching our own. This is not only the best animated film but the best superhero movie of the decade.

The D.W. Griffith Award for Most Original Film of the Decade

One of the most common questions I hear about films is “why don’t filmmakers make anything original?”

They do, but studios aren’t interested in their efforts. Even Oscar bait has become routine. AMPAS has always been hopelessly conservative and usually picks Best Picture based on which movie has the oldest and whitest characters or producers involved.

Cinema’s now been around for such a long time that it’s easier for filmmakers to a.) be incredibly talented from a technical standpoint and b.) rely more and more on the easiest tricks in the book. Most films over the past 10 years didn’t take risks with their story telling or their scripts.

So I want to highlight a film that did try something new. I very nearly gave this award to Her, but as wonderful as it is and as intriguing as it made a romance between a man and an operating system, it’s plot still followed the same path of countless indie romance films.

Instead, I’d like to highlight film that took even more risks and seemed to laugh at the concept of fitting into a genre. I doubt everyone will enjoy every moment in it. And the average movie goer will be left with more questions than answers. But that uncertainty is where no creative ideas are formed.

I can’t describe the plot with any certainty, but I believe the movie a response to Instagram. Everyone wants to take on different roles in public. Now we finally have a tool that allows us to do so. But what if there was a man who only existed through how he presents himself in public? And how would human experience change if everyone is putting forward a false face?

Holy Motors (dir: Leos Carax)

The film is about an actor named Oscar who rides around in a limo to various “appointments” and, essentially, plays a series of random characters. Sometimes he’s comforting his daughter after she is picked up from a party. Sometimes he’s a man on his death bed. One time he’s a psychotic vagrant who kidnaps a super model and bites people. We never learn who he truly is or what, exactly, his goal is as wanders around and inserting himself into these moments. It’s nominally how he earns a living, but that makes no logical sense. Surely there can’t be an entire industry that pays people to fake their entire lives so they may offer even one person an intimate emotional experience…

Oh, right.

The film is original because it captures the dream-like quality of the acting profession. We get the sense that the characters Oscar plays have a life beyond what we see in the film. We see the line between the character and the person shatter to the point where it’s virtually irrelevant who Oscar is. And the film mocks those who are overly obsessed with the different styles of acting and the craft required to embody any character. No matter what Oscar does, even if he’s in a motion capture suit, what he does is effective. Some will be endlessly caught up on trying to figure out Oscar’s true identity and will get frustrated with the film’s inability to explain itself. But they’ll have to admit it’s unlike anything they’ve ever seen.

The Michael Curtiz Award for Most Underrated Film of the Decade

This award is to recognize a movie that wasn’t given the chance it deserved. I don’t believe this film is among the greatest of the past decade. But I do think it was unfairly overlooked.

When this movie – about different groups of people across many centuries – was intially released, mainstream critics eviscerated it. The only thing anyone had to say about the story was how the segments that take place a few hundred years in the future – and how insensitive the filmmakers were to imagine white actors living in a future Seoul.

This is a movie that I found myself defending more than I thought I needed to. Is it perfect? No. Could those aforementioned scenes in Seoul have been handled with more care and sensitivity? Probably. But everyone seemed so limited in their focus. They wanted to take a movie about how humanity is connected and use it to divide audiences.

When I first saw the film in theaters, it was at a screening that was almost entirely sold out. One person in the audience bragged about how this was the fourth time he’d seen it in a week. I understand why he wanted to keep coming back. More than the directors’ more famous films, this movie was a satisfying philosophical examination on who we are as a species – and what we may become. The tiniest actions matter in the long run, even if they seem worthless to us living in the present.

Cloud Atlas (dir: Tom Tykwer and the Wachowskis)

I don’t think any filmmakers have fallen harder in my lifetime than the Wachowskis. They went from being the ultimate cool figures of pop culture to being considered the most pretentious, divisive filmmakers that only losers could possibly like. They managed to demonstrate why with their follow up, the incomprehensible Jupiter Ascending. But they made this film at a crossroads in their lives. Lana and Lilly (the film was made before Lilly transitioned) are the first transgender directors who ever belonged to the mainstream. They made this film, asking what it meant to be human, at a time when they were questioning who they were. It makes sense that each of the characters would take on new identities across time. Cloud Atlas a personal film about the Wachowski’s identities. They went for broke to try to explain who they were and, even though too many people wanted to dismiss their efforts, it still made a profound impact on me.

The Stan Lee Memorial Award for Best Marvel Film:

To wrap up the special awards, I would like to highlight the best of the film series that meant so much to the decade.

Recently, Martin Scorsese stated that he doesn’t consider Marvel movies “cinema” in an interview. The result was an outcry. Marvel fans claimed that Scorsese was an out of touch old man whose films they didn’t care about, so there was no point in even acknowledging his opinion.

That’s unfair both to a director who has been one of the greatest influences on modern day cinema and lets Marvel off the hook too easily. I’ve made my feelings about the Marvel Cinematic Universe well known in other reviews. To me, each film only existed to promote the next one in the series. They were made not as a personal reflection on what these characters mean to them but as a way to be “memeable” and as easily understood as possible.

Yet I still disagree with Scorsese to a certain degree because I don’t believe any series should be painted with such a large brush. There are some wonderful moments in Marvel movies and it would be foolish to dismiss how the films have been used to showcase heroes that, even 20 years ago, would have been unthinkable to carry a $200 million dollar blockbuster.

And that latter attribute is what made some of my personal favorites in the MCU. There were a few films that were risky propositions from a studio planning standpoint. So the executives left the filmmakers alone to do what they would with the characters. If it failed, hey, the next Avengers movie could make up the loss.

When it worked, it worked well. Iron Man is an incredibly complex film about the responsibility wealthy innovators like Tony Stark have to the world. Black Panther was a movie that centered on an almost entirely black cast and treated its characters with respect – something that’s still rare for a studio blockbuster.

Then there’s my personal favorite of the decade. It’s a movie about characters no one had heard of featuring a cast that had no star power. Yes, it’s too derivative of the first Avengers movie, but I prefer it because the director wasn’t focused on how it would lead to the next installment.  I empathized with all the characters and I wanted to see them succeed.

When a movie can give a talking tree one of the most heroic moments of an entire franchise, then it’s a movie that needs all the praise it can get.

Guardians of the Galaxy (dir: James Gunn)

Gunn said his Guardians were the Rolling Stones to the Avengers’ Beatles. The Avengers set the standard, but the Guardians picked up where they left off and went in a tougher, more rebellious direction. The film wasn’t afraid to make fun of itself and other Marvel movies. It was the antidote I needed to Marvel movies that I cared less and less about. If Marvel can take more risks like this, then maybe I will become as big a fan as everyone else.

Finally, here is my list of the Best Films of the 2010s. I usually don’t rank films but this time, I feel obligated to do so. This order doesn’t necessarily represent which films I’ve rewatched the most or which one I think the most people will agree with. Instead, my ranking is based on the movies I think made the biggest impact of the last decade and how likely I believe they’ll be discussed for decades to come.

10.) The directors that guided the 1990s indie film boom are all middle aged now. Some of them (like Kevin Smith) have fallen out of favor with movie fans. Others are in a position that must feel very unusual to them. They are now part of the old guard that they fought against and toppled. There are those like Danny Boyle who are focused now on making the most crowd pleasing films they can. Sam Mendes has directed not one, but two Bond films. I could never have imagined I’d live in a time when I could unironically type, “yep. The guy who made American Beauty also brought Blofeld back.”

And then there are a few that kept above it. They continued exactly as they always have, just a little older and a lot wiser.

Paul Thomas Anderson is a great example of that latter elite group, but while The Master, The Phantom Thread, and Inherent Vice great, I still find myself going back to his earlier films. The latter films still take risks, but for reasons I can’t explain, they don’t carry the same impact for me. Maybe it’s because Anderson used to utterly shatter every taboo put in front of him, while his later films show a more conservative approach.

And then there’s my number ten pick.

This director made what was probably the most influential film of the 1990s. He could have quit then and there and he would still be revered. In fact, he’s talking about stopping in a few years. Still, even if he wanted to make films until he died, he could have easily made endless clones of his first two films and everyone would have been happy. After all, by 2000 his name was an adjective in film lexicon.

He didn’t do that. Instead, he delved even further into the genres he loved as an adolescent and dusted off creaky genres like the kung fu film, the Spaghetti Western, and Euro War movies to create the two films he made before this one. And the result was critical success and Oscar wins.

Then, in 2012, he released his only pure western. He set it in the antebellum south and the film featured some of the most violent shootouts of the decade. But that didn’t dull its impact. If anything, I found myself enjoying it far more than Best Picture winner 12 Years a Slave. Yes, the institution of slavery is one the darkest things in the nation’s history and we still haven’t moved passed it. But by taking a B-movie approach to the material, Tarantino left nothing ambiguous. The slave masters are unquestionably the chilling villains. The titular freed slave turned bounty hunter is destined to destroy those who harmed him. The slaves are meant to do cruel, unspeakable things that were never in any history textbook but show how white people viewed them. And Tarantino was kind enough to give us a happy ending.

Django Unchained (dir: Quentin Tarantino)

Some people, like Spike Lee, criticized Tarantino for turning the institution of slavery into an action spectacle. I understand why he said that. But in doing so, Lee forgot one of the most fundamental things that makes movies great – the emotional experience. 12 Years a Slave was absolutely more accurate from a historical point of view. But Unchained is more satisfying.

Django was also criticized for focusing more on Dr. Schultz than the titular freed slave turned bounty hunter. But that’s missing the point. Schultz is a man who believes anyone can be reasoned with and simply showing that you’re smarter than another person is good enough to win the fight. We know now that’s not the case. Trying to complicate a fight with unnecessary details is pointless. Django didn’t hatch a complicated plan to save his wife. He went in, saved her, and destroyed those who would harm her. In the past few years, people have been debating whether or not it’s morally right to punch a Nazi. They’re falling into the same trap Dr. Schultz fell into. I have a feeling Django Unchained is going to be remembered more fondly as more people understand its message.

9.) Martin Scorsese (I’ve already spoiled the pick, but I’ll press on) has become a surprisingly contentious figure in pop culture. He’s not being criticized for the films he’s made. He’s being mocked because he doesn’t like the same films the average younger fan likes.

I’m not going to comment any further on his quotes regarding Marvel movies. What I will say is that, when you’re not only one of the more lauded filmmakers of your generation but also someone who has done more to promote film preservation and world cinema than anyone else, you’ve earned the right to talk about what cinema is.

His complaint was that the average popular blockbuster, even if it’s skillfully made, doesn’t try to include complex characters or deal with complex things. Everyone is entitled to their opinion if they can back that opinion up with evidence, but his statement made me wonder what a Martin Scorsese superhero movie would look like. Not a Superman adaptation that just happens to be directed by Martin Scorsese, but a film in which Scorsese tackles those people who live a life that seems like a complete fantasy to the rest of us and who believe themselves to be beyond human. They’re surrounded by the most attractive people on the planet, anything they want they can get, and they’re the ones who seemingly define the rules for the world around them – until the world moves on.

Then I realized such a film already exists.

Scorsese’s Goodfellas is one of the greatest films of all time. It depicts a blue collar villain who believes he’s merely taking a few shortcuts to get the life he deserves – a life that includes a beautiful wife, more money than he can spend, and a network of people who can protect him from anything. It doesn’t matter if he has to burn down a failing restaurant or help his friends hide the body of a man they murdered. What matters is the doors that he sees open in front of him and that he gets people to carry his mother’s groceries “out of respect.”

This film is virtually a remake of Goodfellas from a thematic standpoint. Yet the gangsters of Goodfellas had become mainstream in their actions. Pop culture romanticizes people like Henry Hill (and his peers like Tony Montana) for finding the “good life.” It completely misses the point of Hill’s story, but Scorsese realized that he helped romanticize those stories.

So he found a new Scorsese villain working as a stockbroker in New York City. Here again was a man who had everything, but was happy to destroy himself and found out the hard way that the rules still apply to him.

The Wolf of Wall Street (dir: Martin Scorsese)

Jordan Belfort was the perfect villain of the 2010s. Although he was indicted nine years before the market collapse, his story is the perfect story to explain it. He was a talented man who had unquestionable skills as a salesman. Yet he wanted to be something beyond human and he worked very hard to attempt to reach that goal. And when he achieved it – having a giant home, millions of dollars in the bank, and a supermodel partner who everyone envied – he was more content with destroying himself with drugs. And that’s even before he’s arrested by the FBI. I put The Big Short in my honorable mentions because I believe it’s a great exploration of the 2008 financial crisis. But Wolf of Wall Street is a better one because it explored the mindset that existed among the people who caused it. They wanted to be above the “riff raff” – but in the end, they found out the hard way that’s impossible.

8.) Independent studio A24 was to the 2010s what Miramax was to the 1990s. (Hopefully the people in charge at A24 have a much cleaner moral character than the Weinsteins.) It became shorthand for Oscar bait films. They haven’t quite had a breakout hit yet, but looking through their filmography is really a shorthand list for the best of the best. Movies like Ex Machina, Midsommar, The Witch, and The Lobster would have been treated like dumb genre films by any other studio. When A24 got involved, they didn’t let the filmmakers insult their audience. (I don’t know what happened with Tusk. Can’t be lucky every time, I suppose.)

But they didn’t just make smart genre films. They also had some of the most effective dramas of the decade. Take my number eight pick. It’s not only a film about gay romance, which is still a taboo for far too many people. It’s a film that makes Stanley Kubrick’s three act structure seem reserved. Each act is a seemingly disconnected short film. The segments would have done well on their own, but the shifts in tone and in the characters would be jarring in another film.

But this movie has a point to it all. It offers us a glimpse into a man who most people would never pay attention to. As an adult, he’s a convicted felon who is seemingly determined to fit every possible stereotype people have of drug dealers.

But as a child, he’s someone who still seemingly had a lot of hope in his life. There were people who cared about him and wanted to give him a chance. The tragedy comes from the other people, including his mother, who seemingly know he’s gay and have decided that’s why no effort should be put into raising him. He deserves to be bullied as well.

The film ends on a note of hope, as the man – who has gone by three different names at different stages in his life – finally becomes comfortable with who he is. And he’s with someone who will love him. This decade certainly isn’t ending on a high note, but despite  gay people, minorities, and those living in poverty are still facing the same challenges we should have resolved by now, there’s hope at the end of the journey.

Moonlight (dir: Barry Jenkins)

Even though Chiron is the main character, I felt a connection with Mahershala Ali’s Juan. He was the person who wanted to correct his mistakes through Chiron and believed raising him would help him avoid his fate. And, indeed, he’s one of the few that treats him with kindness. But it may be too late to make amends. Juan is implied to be the reason why Chiron is growing up in a broken home. (He’s the person who sold crack to Chiron’s mother.) And besides, Chiron eventually follows Juan’s path. Juan disappears after the first act, but his presence is still felt with the actions that lead Chiron into the diner, where he can finally be exactly who he really is. Juan is one of the most fascinating characters of the last decade, and the reason behind that is because the film is smart enough to let us witness the complete impact he had on one man – even if it wasn’t always positive.


7.) As I get older, I find myself finding more enjoyment from nonfiction. I know that it’s a sign that I’m going to end up as an old man who endlessly talks about this nice article he just read about “the war.” But honestly, when you’re young the world is simultaneously very open but very limited. You dream of going out and conquering it, but you have no idea what there actually is to conquer.

Besides, real life is far, far stranger than fiction. Listen to any true crime podcast and you’ll hear about people who make Silence of the Lamb’s Buffalo Bill seem like a community organizer. Works of fiction only give us a brief glimpse into people’s lives and once we close the book or once the credits role, they may as well not exist.

In news articles and in documentaries, we know the story keeps going. And nothing captures that idea more than my number seven pick. It was a documentary about one of the most sensational events of the late 20th century. There was no one who witnessed it that didn’t have an opinion on the man and no one who didn’t try to understand what it all meant when he was seemingly exonerated despite the overwhelming evidence he’d committed a brutal crime.

I was six years old when this all happened. I don’t remember too much about the trial, but I do remember asking my Mom why the news didn’t show more pictures of his wife. I also had no idea who he was or why the accusations against him would be considered so shocking. This film gave me that perspective I was missing. And it covered how the story didn’t end when 100 million people heard him declared “not guilty” in October 1995. The ramifications of those two words lasted much, much longer.

O.J. Made in America (dir: Ezra Edelman)

I am not a big sports fan so hearing that ESPN was doing a “30 for 30” documentary on Simpson didn’t interest me. I didn’t think it would tell me anything new.

I was wrong. The film carefully explains what O.J. symbolized to a lot of people and why his murder trial dominated our entire culture. And more than that, it addresses some of the same issues that we’re still facing today about black people and the justice system. Simpson isn’t treated with any sympathy – during the last episode, he’s played as a complete joke and a has been even without the murder trial. But his story has something very important to say about us as a society, and Ezra Edelman found it.

6.) The movies of the 2010s were seemingly made up of two things – first, a whole bunch of remakes/reboots/sequels to ensure brand recognition. The second thing was that every snobby elitist would utterly despise mainstream remakes/reboots/sequels and laugh at those who paid full price to see them.

Don’t get me wrong – there were a ton of bad reboots in the 2010s. And thanks to this attitude, studios believed they didn’t have to put any effort artistically when it came to blockbusters.

Fortunately, there were a few directors who knew that was wrong.

This film had no right to be as great as it is. But then again, the original trilogy had no right to have the enormous impact on action films and video games it did. Everyone involved was determined to make the best film possible. And when they revisited the franchise after 31 years, their new film had no right to not only win the most Oscars that year, but to be as incredible as anything they’ve done.

The original trilogy is an homage to dead mainstream genres, including westerns and road movies. The titular character was essentially a ronin. They were never the driving force of the story and their presence was almost irrelevant. What mattered was the societies and people they encountered.

Original, the films in the franchise were about nuclear war and the environmental effects our dependence on oil was having to our society. This film was different. It not only attacked demagogues, but it addressed how they view people as commodities. The most important message of the film is how authoritarians aren’t evil out of sadistic tendencies. It’s deeper than that. They believe they are masterminds that can fix everything wrong. So if they have to curtail speech or target a group of people as a scapegoat – it’s not because they want to be evil. It’s just that’s the only possible solution. It has to be, because they’re the ones who came up with it and only they can fix everything. They don’t view themselves as sadists because they don’t view everyone around them as people. So, if they want to hold young women hostage for breeding purposes, it’s because that’s why they believe women exist.

Besides, it’s one of the greatest action films ever made with stunts and sequences that are some of the most incredible action sequences I’ve seen.

Mad Max: Fury Road (dir: George Miller)

The folks at the AV Club recently named this film the best of the 2010s. It seemed like an odd choice on a list that labelled P.T. Anderson’s The Master as the second best film of the decade. But there’s a logic to that. The decade was defined by safer bets. No one needed a new Mad Max and, at best, the treatment it would get is a shrug and a “Well, Road Warrior was better.” But director George Miller was determined to outdo the original trilogy. Fury Road should a guide to blockbuster filmmakers and remind them you can respect your audience and, better yet, you can respect yourself when you make $100 million dollar movies about a post apocalypse world. Compare it to Avatar and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

5.) Horror is an incredibly difficult genre to get exactly right. I’ve very rarely been scared by a movie. They are either too fantastical and or too dependent on jump scares. For example, if demons are real and can possess a little girls, then doesn’t that mean God definitively exists? It’s hard to be scared by The Exorcist as I’m contemplating what the implications are. Also, if you’ve seen Jason Voorhees stab one camp counselor, you’ve seen it 100 times. By the end of that franchise, Friday the 13th was more like a carnival show where audiences were being asked to give the performing geek something new to swallow. It may be interesting what they’ll come up with, but it’s not scary.

The scariest films are those that can conceivably take place in our reality. They fill us with a certain level of dread, because as we leave the theater, we don’t know whether or not there’s someone waiting to abduct us outside. But fear doesn’t have to come from that nightmare scenario. We can just as easily get scared by a trip to go meet our partner’s family for the first time or by seeing a person act in a way that isn’t quite normal for reasons we can’t put our fingers on.

This film is a touch fantastical but it’s grounded in those very real human fears. I highly doubt the film is honestly suggesting we should be scared of evil cabals of brain surgeons. But it does capture the feeling when we see something that doesn’t quite make sense and the anxious feelings we get when someone is paying a little too much attention to us.

There are horror directors that can’t that tension right after decades of directing. This first time director not only did it but took the material to the next level. He wanted to explore what evil is and how racism can still work just beneath the surface of polite society. The film doesn’t even label its villains as explicitly evil. Their exteriors are polite and comforting. But that doesn’t change who they are underneath that attractive exterior.

I can’t think of a better allegory for present day America.

Get Out (dir: Jordan Peele)

There’s absolutely no reason this should have worked. Jordan Peele had been a (highly successful) comedian for years. Maybe it was that experience that influenced this film. Chris is treated with respect by the white family he goes to visit. But ultimately they just want to exploit his talents and destroy his humanity. I can imagine Peele felt the same things Dave Chappelle felt as white audiences quoted from his sketches while completely missing the point he was trying to make. Get Out manages not just to be an effective statement against the racism so-called “progressives” still have. It’s an exploration of Peele’s own feelings about being a black entertainer in a white dominated industry.


4.) This is another A24 entry that is one of the most emotionally touching dramas of the decade – and it wasn’t nearly as lauded as much as it should have been.

The film has an almost documentary feel to it. None of the actors – with one exception – were professionals and the film was clearly shot on location. That lends a credence to the film and made me half remember some vague story I saw on the news.

But the film also presents a side of an important story we usually don’t see. Other filmmakers have talked about the financial crisis and the growing income inequality in this country. As I’m writing this, we have a slew of politicians running for president next year who have pledged to do something about it. But the stories and focus usually revolves around the rich. In Wolf of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort got his and then proceeded to kick the ladder away to prevent anyone from bringing him down. And even after he’s caught, he’s not nearly punished enough.

But what about the people left at the bottom of the ladder? This film takes place in the shadows of one of the most famous tourist attractions in the nation. But we never see it until the end. Despite it being so close, the park seems like a fantasy world to the characters in the movie. The kids spend their days spitting on cars and annoying the manager of the motel they live. They’re not necessarily content but there are echoes of Huckleberry Finn’s life in their lives. They find amusement and distraction wherever they can.

But also like Finn, the adults around them are trying their best to hide their kids from the reality of their lives. The main characters mother exchanges sex for money, steals from tourists, takes food from diners, and commits multiple acts of fraud. But she was also very sympathetic. Yes, she’s guilty of multiple crimes, but all she were trying to do was raise her child and prevent them from ever finding out exactly why she has to lock her kid in the bathroom when a john comes over.

But of course that illusion comes crashing down, and when it does, it’s heartbreaking.

The Florida Project (dir: Sean Baker)

One of the best scenes in the film has the motel manager (Willem Dafoe) confronting a man who accuses Halley (the mother of six year old Mooney, the main character) of stealing their “magic bands” for Disney World. Dafoe tells him he’d be happy to call the deputies so the tourist can file a police report, but then presses him on what he was doing with Halley so late at night. Dafoe is the individual who is trying to keep the blinders on for the kids. His motel becomes Mooney and Halley’s version of The Florida Project – a place that’s supposed to be happy and comforting where kids can play all day. Of course this illusion is silly, but we want Mooney to hold onto it for as long as possible. And it made me think about the illusions we’ve all used to distract ourselves from what we’re facing today (like the ones Disney creates) – and how those illusions are quickly crumbling.

3.) This was a controversial film when it was released. I remember a bunch of theaters taping signs to their box office windows warning the audience that this wouldn’t be a film that was easy to understand. It got a lot of  critical praise but was sharply divisive to audiences. Many thought it was a puzzle that needed to be solved.

I hate the idea of films being puzzles and trying to “solve” this movie isn’t what anyone needs to do. Although the film does tackle some big philosophical questions about humanity’s place in the universe and our purpose on earth, it’s not meant to spell out what the meaning of life is. Rather, it’s encouraging people to make their own meaning and revealing the best way to do so.

The film’s director spent 33 years working on this film in one form or another. In the middle of writing the script, he disappeared from public view and didn’t direct a film again for 20 years. Something about the concept seemed to frighten him.

But the movie was eventually completed and when it was released, there hadn’t been anything like it since Stanley Kubrick passed away. It was simultaneously deep and analytical, but also surprisingly moving. In anyone else’s hands, this would seem hopelessly pretentious. But for me, the film carries the weight of an important event and I don’t know if I’ll ever see something quite like this again in my lifetime. Stanley Kubrick once said, “If it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed.” This movie proves it.

Tree of Life (dir: Terrence Malick)

There was a lot of discussion about the religious message writer and director Terrence Malick wanted to convey. The unusual cinematography suggest God looking down on creation. But I don’t think that his film is told from God’s point of view (why would God wonder about the mystery of creation?) nor do I believe it’s meant to be a retelling of the book of Job. I believe the film is told from the point of view of a man who has committed suicide and having his life flash before his eyes. At the end, he’s able to get the answers about the universe, he discovers the answers were right in front of him all along.

There’s this annoying habit for people on a certain end of the political spectrum to scoff at the concept of emotions. I don’t know why. We’re the only species on the planet that not only possess the ability to love but can question what love means. Tree of Life is about that unique capability humanity possesses. And Malick was the only director talented enough to explore it.

2.) I’ve mentioned before how one of the biggest influences on me wasn’t necessarily critical reviews or even certain directors. What did it for me was visiting websites like Corona’s Coming Attractions and reading about the films that were in development. That’s how I started figuring out who directors were and how their involvement could potentially change a movie.

I came across the announcement of this movie back in the day when Corona’s was still very important to me. I thought that it would be abandoned and never officially released. I’d forgotten about it completely until a trailer was released. Everyone, from what I remembered, treated the news with a great, big, “Huh?: It seemed impossible – a film covering the youth and adolescence of a single character in real time.

By the time it came out, the director had flirted with mainstream success but hadn’t really had a critical and commercial hit in a long time. This was seemingly a vanity project that had to be seen even if it was a disaster. I expected it to be an indie-Cimino story. The director’s skill couldn’t match his ambition and the result would be one of the greatest, but most infamous, curiosities of all time.

Fortunately, I was wrong.

Not only is this movie a perfect time capsule of the years it covers (I’m nine years older than the main character so I remembered everything it showed perfectly) but it allowed director Richard Linklater to cross multiple genres. This is a film that’s simultaneously a comedy, a dramatic coming of age story, an exploration of substance abuse on a family, and a fascinating portrayal of a single mother. But it also captures what human lives are really like.

Films follow a formula and most audiences can predict call backs to characters and scenes and predict how the story will end. That doesn’t happen in this movie. Like in life, some things are just dropped and forgotten about. People who were an important part of our lives are not seen again after a few years. People move around and change careers, sometimes in ways we don’t expect. And no one is sure how their story will end.

I can’t think of another work of fiction does tells the full story of a person’s life quite as well as my number two pick.

Boyhood (dir: Richard Linklater)

As a kid, Mason can only watch the world around him and doesn’t logically grasp why his parents aren’t together and how his mother Olivia is forming a new relationship with another man. But we can still feel what Mason emotionally feels – it’s the same confusion and  helplessness every child in that situation feels. As he gets older, we feel proud of Mason asserting himself – but also have concerns for his future. In just two hours, Mason becomes a reflection of all of us watching his story. Linklater’s script perfectly captures those defining moments we all face in life – going from a child to a new college student with every door opening up for us, our future finally in our control.

Linklater apparently wants to do this again with a Sondheim musical Merrily We Roll Along. And it was treated the way I initially thought of Boyhood – there’s no chance this will succeed. But maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

1.) I need to clarify something before I reveal my number one pick of the decade.

I don’t necessarily think this is the most creative, most ambitious, or technically best made film of the decade – Boyhood would probably get that honor.

Instead, I picked it because it perfectly represents the decade and the issues we’re facing but still haven’t worked out yet. At the start of this countdown, I discussed how full of hope we were about the future in 2010, even as we were climbing from a disaster. We now had the technology that could unite us and let everyone share their ideas. Social media was treated as the biggest thing since electricity.

But we know now that the exact opposite happened. Now we’re trying to figure out how to get social media under control to prevent bad actors from causing our destruction.

This was the first film to raise its hand and say, “You know what? Maybe we should be a little more careful and maybe the people who invented these platforms don’t have the best intentions in mind.” What amazes me is how poignant the film gets as time goes by. The biographical subject is well on his way to becoming public enemy number one and the subject of scorn rather than praise.

Is it his fault? Not necessarily – there’s a reason people use social media and he was responding to a demand. But it’s becoming increasingly clear that social media panders to our own worst desires and allows a certain group to take pleasure in other people’s pain. The movie’s final line (“You’re not an asshole. You’re just trying so hard to be.”) no longer just applies to the creator of Facebook. It applies to everyone who’s ever mocked someone for “being triggered” and use their timelines as a way to shut out anything that challenges their existing beliefs.

The film tried to warn us. Maybe if we’d listened a little harder, things would be different now.

The Social Network (dir: David Fincher)

The film doesn’t treat Mark Zuckerberg as an outright villain. He’s treated as more of a Victor Frankenstein character – someone who is obsessed with what they can do but never takes the opportunity to question whether they should. This isn’t his fate at the end of the movie (although he’s utterly alone and trying to reach out unsuccessfully to his ex girlfriend on the platform he made, left wondering why she won’t accept his friend request). But that’s certainly happening now. We also never learn about Zuckerberg’s view of humanity in the film. Does he believe people are inherently bad and he can use that to his advantage? Possibly. But more likely he never bothered to ask himself what he thinks of human nature. All he cared about was what he could do and how his creation would garner him respect.

The story kept going long after the credits ended, and that real story feels exactly like the third act of an extended version of The Social Network. Zuckerberg is rich, successful, but ultimately despised by the public he desperately wants to love him. His conflict in the movie with Eduardo Saverin has spilled out into the open as Congress calls for Facebook to be regulated and confront him about what he’s unleashed on the world. The film was asking Zuckerberg, “what benefit is there for a man to sell his soul for bragging rights?” Maybe it’s time we take a break from our profiles answer that question for ourselves.

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A Review of Avengers: Endgame (WARNING: SPOILERS)


I remember being at the midnight screening for Iron Man. No one knew what to expect. He was not a popular character like Spider-man and Robert Downey Jr. hadn’t really made a comeback from his years as a desperate addict, where his jail sentences for possession increasingly outweighed the time he spent on sets.

And then we not only saw a great super hero movie (it still ranks as among the best Marvel movies I’ve seen) but one that showed a lot of promise for the future. In the after-credits scene where Nick Fury met with Tony Stark to discuss “The Avengers Initiative,” the audience went NUTS. We couldn’t image what seeing all of the Avengers on screen could possibly look like. I couldn’t even imagine a movie devoted to a character like Thor.

Yet as time went on, I grew increasingly disappointed. The best Marvel films, like Iron Man, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Black Panther allowed the filmmakers to use the characters as a starting point and still improvise and create a new story. (I’ll also add Deadpool, even though that’s not a part of this franchise.)

But those were few and far between. After tripe like the first Thor and The Incredible Hulk, Marvel films were becoming less of a priority for me to watch. What sealed the deal for me is when the talented Edgar Wright was forced off the Ant-Man movie because he was not permitted to do the story he wanted. That battle showed that Marvel movies were not being made in the template of Iron Man, but were coming under the control of studio heads. If Iron Man is the first Star Wars movie – a risky proposition that no one thought would succeed, much less become a cultural phenomenon- then films like Iron Man 2 were The Phantom Menance – a spectacle created by middle aged accountants rather than younger, hungrier artists who wanted to explore why the characters and themes are important to so many people.

But against all odds, this attitude and viewpoint seemingly worked. Audience came out in droves and each release, for them, was an event. Part of this has to do with the phenomenally talented cast and part of it has to do with the fact that the superheros were not new, but already an important part of American pop culture. People already cared about the characters and the films, for the most part, used them very well.  For all of its flaws, the Marvel universe has never questioned why people loved Captain America so much.

And now it’s all coming to an end with the aptly titled Endgame. The anticipation around it felt like a religious event more than a movie release. People packed into theaters, whispering in hushed tones in anticipation. And I get it, especially for people who can say they grew up with these films.  If this turned out to be terrible, it was likely to have kick started an armed revolution.

But I have good news. It’s very far from terrible. In fact, the last hour may be some of the greatest blockbuster filmmaking I’ve ever seen. But it also borrows many of the flaws that the other Marvel films have. There are plot holes you can fly Nick Fury’s flying base through and some of the emotional impacts feel unearned. Yes, this was always going to be the last outing for several Marvel heroes (including Stan Lee, who makes his final cameo ever in this film) but that doesn’t mean we had to waste them.

I’ve made my views of Infinity War very clear. I thought the ending was a cheat for the audience and something that was ultimately meaningless. I know I may not be in the majority of that view – people still reference that “ending” a year after the film’s release – but it dimmed my view on Endgame.

First, I knew going into the film that the deaths of the major characters from Infinity War wouldn’t stick. Not because it was necessary to the narrative, but because business decisions regarding the future of the franchise had already been announced. Why should I be emotionally involved in Spider-Man’s turning into dust when I know he has another film appearance lined up? I figured it would be something that would be overturned very quickly.

Second, since these deaths weren’t permanent, I thought the filmmakers would very quickly overturn them. There would be no reason for any of the characters to properly acknowledge them. It would be about making sure all of your favorite heroes are resurrected and Thanos is found to continue the epic battle from the last film.

It would have been exciting, but also very cliched – like the average comic book, really. And that was not the film I wanted or the one I felt that audiences who have been following this story for ten years deserved.

But I was completely wrong, at first. And I’m glad the film earned its climax. But there were definitely some challenges on the journey.
















The film starts on a more hopeless note with the remaining Avengers finding Thanos, only to discover he has destroyed the Infinity Stones and reversing what he has done is now seemingly impossible. Thor quickly decapitates him out of rage, which just makes the situation that much more hopeless. This happens in the first twenty minutes, and it sets up a deeper fight.

Back on Earth, we flash forward five years. It reminded me of Children of Men, where people still pretend like society is intact (including having the characters visiting a diner where kids ask for a picture with Hulk) but no one can move on from the mystery of why their loved ones are dead. Sure, the Avengers know what happened, but the average person doesn’t seem to understand. Even Ant-Man, when he re-materializes after being trapped in the quantum realm, is shocked by the sheer scale of the destruction of the world. He asks a little boy what happened, only to be replied with a scoff.

But then the film introduces an element that can be very problematic for any narrative – time travel. Yes, the second act of this movie follows the remaining Avengers on a Back to the Future II style adventure as they travel back in time to moments from their previous films so they can collect the Infinity Stones, reassemble the Gauntlet, and snap everyone back into existence.

From a marketing standpoint, this makes sense. We should get an opportunity to relive some of the famous settings and moments from the previous the films. This was the only way to do it and, in fact, Endgame builds on them by adding things we didn’t see. It’s a great way to get another look at Battle of New York at the end of the first Avengers and a funny way to see Star Lord dancing to “Come and Get Your Love” all over again – or watch him dance and realize how weird his behavior is.

But then the film goes out of its way to a.) establish rules for time travel (you basically can’t change the past because when your future self goes into the past it becomes your future and changing anything would just create an alternate reality rather than change the current reality) and b.) immediately break those rules to remind people of scenes they liked before.

For example, one of the most memorable scenes in Infinity War had Thanos sacrificing Gamorah to win the Soul Stone. That exact scene is duplicated here with Hawkeye and Black Widow. And I don’t mean it’s a variation – I mean it’s the exact scene where one of them has to be sacrificed to get the stone. And then we’re told that the character who died can’t be brought back with the Infinity Gauntlet.

Except that point is immediately rendered moot. Gamorah is “resurrected” (well, her past self is sprung forward in time and skips the whole “death” bit from Infinity War) and no one stops to think if the same could be done for other characters. (Thanos is also resurrected via time travel, as he discovers what the remaining Avengers are trying to do.) It felt like a major character had to die to satisfy audience expectations (the actual hero body count is surprisingly low, considering the hype) and so the filmmakers duplicated a previous scene for a check mark.

And this film seems focused on those check marks. We see an extended scene with the Battle of New York, including extra moments like The Hulk getting angry about having to take the stairs. It’s tonally reminiscent of the scenes in the first Avengers, such as the moment when the Hulk interrupted Loki’s villain speech to smash him into the floor.

That scene worked the first time because it was an opportunity to play these opposite characters against each other. This time, it’s not revealing anything new about The Hulk. Yes, it’s admittedly funny when he looks down the climb and bellows, “STAIRS!!!!!” But we’re dealing with a reality that’s far different than the reality of the Battle of New York. Is it to remind people of better times? I don’t think so – none of the characters pause to reminisce on this major part of their lives. It was for the audience to nod with recognition.

Those moment, and a lot of other moments, didn’t feel like a narrative necessity so much as an “event.” Blockbusters are becoming increasingly reliant on “meme moments -” those moments that will be spread and parodied online with little regard for how they fit into the larger work.

Endgame is full of those moments, but when they work, they work beautifully. Most of these moments come in the final battle of the third act. When I said this is some of the best popular filmmaking I’ve ever seen, I meant it. It’s in the third act that every hero comes back to battle against Thanos’ army. When Captain America cries out, “Avengers, assemble,” it’s moment that earns the applause. And there’s never any moment where one character has to carry this massive scene. Every single major character is given a heroic in this final battle, even if it consists of just raising a finger. Plus, we do end up learning more about the characters and what really matters to them. The moment where Peter Parker and Tony Stark are reunited is an emotional one. And I have to admit I cheered when the female superheroes teamed to protect Peter as he tried to get the Infinity Gauntlet back. And finally, yes. This story for these characters is definitively over and newer characters will be what drives the story forward. That’s all I’ll say.

Endgame is very likely to end its run as the highest grossing film of all time. I am not going to ruin the party by saying we’ve all been duped and Endgame is terrible. It is not. There are a lot of great moments in this film and I’m glad that everyone involved was committed to giving this story a proper ending. But I also can’t ignore what doesn’t work about it. Most of the second act is padded with emotional moments we’ve already experienced and the result is sort of reminiscent of the movie Mr. Burns entered into the Springfield film festival. By now you’ve already seen it and made up your own mind. But for those who haven’t – expect a good time. But I can’t say that, in the future, this will hold up as well as we hope.

On another note, I can officially state I am a member of the “Didn’t Take One Restroom Break During Avengers: Endgame” club. We are an elite group, and proud.

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The Best Films of 2018

I know.

I didn’t mean to take a year off from this personal blog. There were some personal issues and my column over at PopDose was covering a lot of the same ground.

But the biggest thing was that there wasn’t anything I saw that was worth responding to and, once again, the biggest problems with film and the film industry are still around.

First, MoviePass, which I had high hopes for, crashed and burned due to poor decision making and basically devolved into a scam. Marvel continues its domination and Avengers: Infinity War treated audience with such contempt that I sat with my mouth open in the theater. (I wrote about that experience on PopDose.) Streaming is growing even more splintered, and FilmStruck, the best streaming service available, was shut down for such petty reasons that it felt as disastrous as the 1965 MGM vault fire. AMPAS tried to render itself irrelevant by adding a “Best Popular Film” category to the Oscars in order to make themselves seem relevant to an audience that willingly pays to see Venom.

And the films I did see just didn’t stand out to me as much as my previous year’s picks. Usually I see something that blows me away and sets the standard for the other releases. And that just didn’t happen this year.

It’s not to say that I didn’t have a good time at the theater. It means that we seem to be entering a nadir where no one is trying anymore. Everyone is still coming to terms with 2016 and not able to artistically respond to it. Plus, further media consolidation means we barely need filmmakers anymore and could just use punch cards to make films. Want something that makes you laugh? Here’s Generic Comedy #20187, which features Kate McKinnon acting well below her abilities.

But there were some great films that came out and I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell people about them. And there were some films I had to remove from my list. I liked Hereditary, but I found myself thinking of horror films that were far more effective with their premise. Being another unofficial remake of Rosemary’s Baby isn’t going to score any points with me. I also liked The Hate U Give, and it definitely took an emotional toll on me. But then I realized just how poorly the dialogue was handled. Every actor seemed to be giving a speech rather than conversing with other characters. And I even liked Black Panther for being a superhero movie that had something worthwhile and intelligent to say. But it didn’t change my mind as a whole about Marvel and Panther just didn’t everything I want in a superhero movie. For once, I’d like a filmmaker to use a superhero to tell his or her personal story and not another film designed by committee. But I did end up with ten films that I feel do capture the best of filmmaking in 2018.

(Also, this is limited to the films I actually watched. Cold War and Roma are things I wanted to see but couldn’t in time. So don’t feel personally slighted if your pick isn’t on this list.)

Before I get into my main picks, there is one film I’d like to discuss.

Honorable Mention

I was not sure if it was fair to include this as one of the best films of 2018. After all, it was shot much earlier than that. But it had never been completed until this year and it’s one of the most amazing things I watched.

Some of you are already guessing which film I’m referring to, but I’ll press on. New Hollywood both revered and condemned classic Hollywood. The filmmakers were very eager to point out their influences as they deconstructed genre pictures. But they were not necessarily eager to learn all they could from them. “Thanks Gramps,” New Hollywood seemed to say, “we’ll take it from here.”

There was one filmmaker from the classic era that wanted to say something equally profound. “You think you’ll on top of the world now, but I’ll show you. You’ll end up just like me.” And for better or for worse, he was right.

The Other Side of the Wind (dir: Orson Welles)

The movie was shot over five years in the 1970s. Welles and his surviving family had to wade through multiple legal battles to get the rights to the incomplete film back. Netflix released it to much fanfare, but I was concerned it would be a piece that was better shrouded in mystery that would seem too dated.

I was wrong. If I didn’t know better, I would have said the quick cuts, the limited space and time frame of the setting, and the obsession with the film business influenced the 80s and 90s independent film boom. But of course, that can’t be. Not when it languished in a vault as Welles begged for money to complete it. But the technique behind it still doesn’t feel dated. Welles rewrote film narrative and predicted shorter attention spans, fast action, and short scenes that fit right in with the streaming age.

But what about the story? It’s amazing how closely it parallels Welles’ life. I would have almost expected that he knew what would happen and what his future held. But I highly doubt Welles looked at Jake Hannaford’s life as something to be envied. Hannaford had his glory days behind him and people were constantly questioning his genius. Indeed, I think the reason Welles never finished it, besides the legal difficulties, was that it was so painfully autobiographical and Welles couldn’t stand it.

I don’t know what would have happened had the film been released in the 1970s. It likely would not have been the big commercial comeback that Welles wanted. But maybe, just maybe, it would have helped cement his legacy before his death as someone who created modern film narrative and as an artist who still had a lot to say.

Now, let’s get onto the list.

First Place

As I said, I couldn’t find a movie that fit the “best film of the year” description for me. Nothing seemed to be that exciting or that well made to stand out to me. And then, late in the year, I saw this film.

This film is the most effective costume drama I’ve seen in a very long time. Most costume dramas (like this year’s Mary, Queen of Scots) don’t have anything worthwhile to say. They’re content to regurgitating old drama and using their costumes to hide their lack of things to say.

But not this film. It borrows equally from Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon and Othello, with well rounded characters plotting and scheming to get ahead in the court of the sickly queen. But who is really getting what they want? And what is the queen’s goal in all of this?

The tension from those questions make the film work.

The Favourite (dir: Yorgos Lanthimos)

Lanthimos is a director who is very obsessed with the terrible wreckage people’s desires cause. In the past, it’s lead to some disturbing films. But Lanthimos decided there was something much funnier going on in this story. Yet the funniest thing is how each of the characters are trying to outdo each other. Abigail becomes the hero, but I think everything that happened to Sarah was part of her plan all along. When Abigail realizes this, it’s far too late. The three central characters all have a good chemistry and all embody their roles and archetypes well, from the wise veteran to the smart yet naive new blood. And the film is thankfully not obsessed with once again turning the English nobility into demigods. Queen Anne is almost useless in her duties and cannot function without Sarah behind her. The other characters, despite their powdered wigs, do not embody honor or intelligence. Lanthimos is very eager to show Hollywood why it’s faith in the nobility of the past is so misplaced, and why Shakespearean characters like Iago are more fondly remembered than Prince Hal.

Second Place

Everyone is eager to invoke Alfred Hitchcock whenever any new thriller comes out. But that’s a misunderstanding of what Hitchcock was about.

Hitchcock films weren’t just thrillers. They were character studies about what people do in “thrilling” situations. They’re also about how people are limited in understanding exactly what is going on in the world around them. Misunderstandings and missing details can be just as dangerous as a murder plot.

This is a film that understands what Hitchcock was trying to convey and I’m surprised more people aren’t talking about it. It’s a thriller that mostly takes place in one room. We don’t see many of the important characters – we only hear their voices over the telephone. Yet this simple set up creates a wild plot with fantastic twists and turns as a man realizes he is far less capable than he realizes.

The Guilty (dir: Gustav Möller)

The Guilty follows a disgraced cop named Asger Holm who was involved in a shooting. Reassigned to desk duty, he’s working as a 911 dispatcher while awaiting his court date. One day, a call comes in from a woman who is crying as her ex-husband kidnaps her. From there, he tries to play the hero and save her, only to realize there’s something much worse happening.

The film works because of its focus on Holm. We feel his desires to “save the day” and then we feel his shock as her learns more and more about the woman’s situation. Even though we only experience the majority of the characters through Holm’s headset, we can picture their desperation and their confusion. And at the end, we feel the same fatigue that Holm feels as he realizes he’s not matching the heroic image that he’s built up for himself.

This film deserves a lot more attention than its received. See it whenever you get the opportunity.


Third Place

I know my obsession with past filmmakers is quoted in my first last pick. But there’s another film that deserves more praise than it’s getting from a first time director. It’s the most effective satire of the world of 2018.

Imagine a world where the newest business craze is to basically offer slave labor to corporations. Where class warfare is starting to bubble to the surface again. Where minorities are not able to truly be themselves. Although this film is being advertised as taking place in an alternative timeline, it’s not. This is the world that we see whenever we look out the window. Even the “American Dream” of working hard for success and wealth seems to be increasingly bizarre both in our world and in the film’s world.

Sorry to Bother You (dir: Boots Riley)

Sorry to Bother You follows a man named “Cash” Green who gets work as a telemarketer. At first he struggles, but then develops a “white voice” over the phone that turns him into one of the top earners for his company. Yet his ascent is not cause for celebration, especially as he’s forced to cross a picket line and realizes that he’s participating in the trading of slaves. And then the film throws a twist at the end of the second act that really shows why director Boots Riley is so concerned about the state of the world and where we may end up. It seems shocking that people would treated the way the film depicts, but I could almost imagine Amazon offering a similar service as WorryFree proposes.

The Rest

As is tradition, I present the rest of my list in alphabetical order.

A Quiet Place – (dir: John Krasinski)Horror films as a whole don’t usually scare me. They’re too fantastical and I can never identify with the characters as they’re being chased by a ghost. Krasinski’s debut also seemed like it would be too much of a gimmick. A film where people can’t make noise? I thought that went out of style in 1927. But A Quiet Place uses that gimmick to tell a familiar story in a new way. At its core, the film is about a man trying to be a good father and having doubts about his ability. This plot can drive some of the best films and some of the worst. But Krasinski, no doubt from his time on The Office, knows how to make his character seem familiar, like a coworker you may bump into in the cafeteria. Also, the new way of living the family has set up for itself to deal with its silent existence is incredibly unique. And the inability to make noise creates some of the tensest horror film moments I’ve ever seen, like when a woman gives birth without being able to scream.

 A Star is Born (dir: Bradley Cooper) – This was the third remake of the original story and one that would either be great or crash and burn. Music is incredibly disposable these days and it seems like a more accurate title for a modern remake would be A Star is Bor – Oops, Never Mind. Yet the film plays like an Unplugged rendition of the story. There is no slick choreography or show stopping numbers, even during the concert scenes or the moments at the Grammys. Instead, the film focuses on the dynamic of two opposites trying to figure out what they other means. Soft rock singer Jack (Cooper) discovers Ally/Lady Gaga in a drag bar and they fall in love. As her star rises, he continues to fall into a desperate state. While she is utterly enamored with him, he’s distant and unable to express himself to her. She is building a carefully manufactured image to appeal to a fan base (Ally talks about how she doesn’t like the pop music she’s making) while Jack doesn’t care about his fans. Still, when they come together on stage, you can see the chemistry between both the characters and their performers. Those moments are what makes the film work.

Annihilation (dir: Alex Garland)Garland is behind some of the smartest, most visually appealing science fiction today. Annihilation will hopefully come to be seen as his masterpiece in due time. The film is about a mysterious area on earth where biology has stopped functioning properly. This leads to mutated animals and, possibly, a creature that could destroy humanity. That could be the plot of an old Roger Corman produced B-movie, but Garland uses the material to discuss man’s place in nature and what the effects man is having on the environment. It’s also the most gorgeous looking film I’ve seen this year. It certainly has the best special effects. They’re used to create something new that stirred my imagination instead of dulling it.

Black Kkklansman (dir: Spike Lee)Lee staged an incredible comeback with this story of a black police officer who takes charge of an undercover investigation into the local KKK chapter – work that eventually leads to him talking to David Duke in the most satisfying movie scene of the year. But the film also showcases the underlying tension that still exists in our society. The main character Ron Stallworth became a police officer out of a sense of civic pride, but is distrusted by his community and other officers openly use racial slurs in his presence. He takes on the Klan because that’s the easiest target he can find, even though his victory isn’t enough to stop the prejudice against him. And, as we see in the footage from the Charlottesville rally, the people Stallworth took down sadly never went away.

Capernaum (dir: Nadine Labaki)There have been a lot of great films lately in the past few years about how kids no longer have real childhoods. They have to face the horrors of the world head on, no matter how much the adults around them try to protect their innocence. Last year’s The Florida Project was about that and it was my pick for the best film of the year. Capernaum covers much of the same ground in an even crueler way. The film follows Zain, who sues his parents for giving birth to him. We find out later that he ran away from home after they sold his older sister as a child bride just as she hit puberty. It gets progressively worse from there as Zain tries to carve out a new life with Rahil, a woman he meets that is in Lebanon illegally. It’s a story that feels increasingly desperate, like someone wondering what they have to do to get attention. Zain’s story feels increasingly familiar as we learn about people trying to escape desperate situations in their home.

The Death of Stalin (dir: Armando Iannucci)It takes a very twisted mind to turn the death of one of the great monsters of history into a Dr. Strangelove-esque satire about a deservedly ruined state where its leaders are more interested in feeding their egos than the public’s best interest. Actually, it doesn’t, but it does take a very smart mind to make a film as funny as this one. The Death of Stalin follows a group of highly dysfunctional people trying to decide who replaces the vacuum left by Stalin. The result is a slow burning chaos that results in a lot of people getting killed. What makes it funny is the subtle reaction people who are suffering from deep anxiety about their futures. They put on absurd faces as they try to go through a traditional funeral while plotting to stab each other in the back. Its treatment of the upper echelon of the Communist Party is like a version of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar adapted by Luis Bunuel. Also, the casting is spot on.

Shoplifters (dir: Hirokazu Kore-eda)This film won the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival and its easy to see why. Its story of a family assembled from scratch trying to find domestic bliss doesn’t just reflect Japanese society. It reflects the entire developed world, as more people are trying to imitate the family life they grew up with while the reality around them is growing increasingly bleaker. Director Kore-eda is seemingly mocking the techniques of Ozu, who used his films to examine how a westernizing Japan was causing people to abandon their roots. Shoplifters shows how, in only a few generations, people don’t have the means to go back to those roots.

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The Best Films of 2017

Everyone talks about how 2016 was the year that sanity and reason finally collapsed. 2017 existed to prove us wrong. There were literal Nazi protests that saw someone standing up against hate murdered, there is a “president” who is barely able to function as a human being and is so completely deranged that I found myself fearing a nuclear war for the first time in my life, there were the revelations that several people I once respected are not worthy of respect due to the way they treated people around them. Finally, there were the continuing losses of legendary figures in the film world. George Romero, Tobe Hooper, Harry Dean Stanton, Martin Landau, Jerry Lewis, Don Rickles, Adam West, Mary Tyler Moore, Powers Boothe, Michael Parks, Johnathan Demme, John Hurt, Bill Paxton, Miguel Ferrer,  Roger Moore, Robert Osborne…these people made a tremendous impact on our culture that is not likely to be seen again.

Also, Hollywood still has not chosen which direction it will take at the crossroads it finds itself. Studios are becoming larger while streaming services, which are how most people view films, are becoming unnecessarily fractured. And instead of facing reality, everyone seems to be sticking their fingers in their ears. We have an FCC chairman with the IQ of celery who’s been advocating for an internet that resembles France before the revolution. We should be living in an exciting era, but too many shortsighted people with too much power claim to know what’s best for everyone else.

There was one good moment in my 2017 – films finally became more accessible.

In an era where practically everything you want to watch is available with a click of a button, some people are finally starting to understand that media needs to be more accessible to the general population. That’s why I’m a proud owner of a MoviePass, which exists to be a Netflix for theaters. It’s amazing – I pay one price and can go watch whatever films I wish in theaters.

This means that for the first time in a long time, I had to cut some movies from my top ten list. I really liked Lucky, Logan Lucky, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized they liked the necessary gravitas to be permanently enshrined as the best the year had to offer. I even found myself contemplating placing Atomic Blonde, my favorite action film of the year, on the my list of the best overall films. Sure, it has plot holes the size of Connecticut but I admired the skill behind it and was pleased that filmmakers are bothering to take risks with genre films.  I even considered placing Darren Aronofsky’s mother! on my list because it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a filmmaker go for broke. Aronofsky had a vision that he wanted to tell in the way he told and was brave about that vision. It didn’t work from an emotional standpoint, but I’m still thinking about it at the end of the year. I wish more films could be as confident as mother!, even as they crash and burn.  

As a reminder, films I have not personally seen do not make the list. I unfortunately missed Get Out in theaters and have no reason to doubt that its rave reviews are well deserved. I intend to check it out as soon as possible. Additionally, like all rewards season movies, some things have not been released where I live, like Phantom Thread. I will hopefully be catching up on films I missed in time. But I still think that, no matter what I missed, I had enough films to make a very good list.

But before I begin my proper list, I wanted to give special mention to one particular item that shows how blurred media is becoming. More people depend on streaming services to watch things and, finally, there was one streaming service/channel that had some of the most exciting moments of 2017 for me.


Twin Peaks: The Return (dir: David Lynch) – I can’t put Twin Peaks on my list because it’s a TV show at heart. It requires knowledge of the preceding chapters, is episodic, and (surprise) aired on TV.

But in the same way that the original Twin Peaks run changed TV forever, the new run also kick started a revolution and showed how much television has evolved.

Most auteurs have migrated to TV, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese as the film industry grows unwilling to invest in risks. Lynch himself has not directed a film eleven years. TV has also become the uniting cultural force in our landscape. In my experience, people are far more likely to have an opinion on this year’s season of Stranger Things and Game of Thrones than Thor: Ragnarök.

Lynch’s Twin Peaks takes full advantage of that changing landscape. In 18 hours, he crams in enough story that will leave people thinking for years. And he did it without compromising his vision. There are entire episodes that have practically no dialogue, there are scenes of graphic violence that most show runners would never dare attempt, and there is enough of a pause to allow for Lynch’s bizarre sense of humor to shine through.

Also, Lynch shattered our expectations. Characters who come back are clouds of their former selves (Kyle MacLachlan spends most of his scenes repeating what everyone just said to him), major guest stars (like Michael Cera) appear for only a scene and then vanish, forgotten actors like Matthew Lillard are given a major presence that shows their range, and the show is not afraid to acknowledge the passage of time or pretend like the cast has to be young.

It’s an amazing show that should cause studios to worry. After all, if television is going to be this brave and accommodating to artists, then what’s the point of films?

Also, I was just glad to finally get a conclusion to the story of Dale Cooper. At least, I think we did.

Without further ado, here are my picks for the best films of 2017.


Last year’s Moonlight reminded me of a what a film should be. I should enter a world that I normally wouldn’t see and live a life that is completely alien to me. Moonlight accomplished this task and just missed being my top pick because I felt it more appropriate to pick a bleaker film to represent that bleakness that was 2016.

But that message was not lost to me and I wanted to recognize a film that lets me live a new life. And this year’s top film did that. I was able to see the truly forgotten people of the world – people who try to put on a bright smile while they’re realize their lives have turned into an unrecognizable mess. This was emphasized by the fact that the main character was a child, who is largely oblivious to the petty crimes that her single mother commits just to keep their lives intact. It reminded me of Mark Twain’s writings, where the kids are often far wiser than the scheming adults who have long forgotten some important truths of the world. Only at the end do the kids realize how dark their world is, at which point the titular place seems like a cheap farce designed to hide the sadness of the world.

The Florida Project (dir: Sean Baker)

What really helped the film was the lack of professional actors in the cast. Yes, Willem Dafoe is present and deserves an Oscar for playing the motel manager that caters to poor people and their families. But the best thing about The Florida Project is its authentic feeling. All of the amateur actors give performances that rival their Oscar-winning counterparts, and I have a feeling that was only because they’ve lived similar lives where they have to make ends meet by prostituting themselves on Craigslist. Either way, the result is an incredible film that I won’t soon be forgetting.


I struggled a bit with the placement of the next two films. I knew the nine remaining films I wanted to highlight, but I couldn’t decide what counted as “the best of the best.” So it really came down to a question of which films I’m most likely to see again. And then the choice became easy.

I’ve been a fan of this director’s work since 2004, when he moved from TV to film. He’s been consistently among the funniest filmmakers working today, but he also showcases a great talent for action and genre deconstruction. It takes a very smart person to take a Steve McQueen character and allow the audience to laugh at him while still admiring him. It also takes a smart person to cover so many different genres in one film and do them equally well.

Baby Driver (dir: Edgar Wright)

People are still obsessed with “coming of age” films, but I honestly think Baby Driver is the most emotionally honest one in a while. It plays like a fantasy that every young man has. Who doesn’t want to be the cool getaway driver, spending his days remixing music and seducing a beautiful diner waitress? But then the fantasy ends and we see the inevitable result and destruction such a life causes. Still, it’s a fantastic ride (that pun is completely intended) featuring some great performances and wonderful action scenes.

(On a side note, yes, I am not forgetting this is likely to be Kevin Spacey’s last major role. The film was released before the numerous scandals around him broke and I have no doubt he would not have been cast had Edgar Wright knew about his actions. Spacey is still a talented actor and plays his character well in the movie. It’s a shame he’s also a scumbag who has caused people a lot of pain.)


For my final ranked pick, I thought about the experience that movies are supposed to provide. Most people still feel that pointing a camera at two people playing make-believe constitutes a film. Not many people take full advantage of the medium.

This film did. It put me in a time and place that I had never experienced before. And while most war epics are about understanding the conflict, this one focused on the civilians and soldiers who had no idea what was happening. They were fighting for their lives based on things far beyond their comprehending. The film makes you feel every moment of their tension and fear. Even at the moment of triumph, the film reminds you that these characters have a long way to go.

Dunkirk (dir: Christopher Nolan)

Christopher Nolan has proven himself to be the most creative technical director working today. His effects and scenes are as grand and lofty as anything Steven Spielberg used to do. And they’re put to a great purpose. I was not just enjoying the technical aspects of the air battles. I understood what the stakes were and why I should care that these characters succeed. And all of this was done without showing a single Nazi soldier until the very end of the film. I hope that everyone got a chance to see this on IMAX. It’s an experience I won’t soon be forgetting.


The rest, as tradition dictates, are listed alphabetically

Blade Runner 2049 (dir: Denis Villeneuve) – This belated sequel to Blade Runner is far better than it has any right to be. It takes what could have been a disaster that sullied a classic and turns it into one of the greatest sequels ever made. The new Runner accomplishes this by taking the world of the original film and expanding upon it, showing how normal people would live their daily lives. Everything about this world has changed and we see how the people are reacting to a world that has become even worse in thirty years. And yes, the film brings back characters, but it’s a sequel that acknowledges what happened in the original and how eager they are to move on with their lives. It’s an equally fascinating world as its predecessor.

Detroit (dir: Kathryn Bigelow) – I’m genuinely surprised Detroit has not received more attention from critics. It’s a far better movie than Zero Dark Thirty that actually has a message that’s still (unfortunately) very relevant. Detroit is nominally about the 1967 race riots that gripped the Motor City, but focuses much of its run time on the Algiers Motel incident that saw police officers torturing suspects to extract a confession. It’s one of the tensest chamber dramas I’ve seen, helped by the amazing performances of the cast. I felt like I was in the motel right along with the characters and then realized that, unlike some of the people, I was able to walk out when it was all over. That is something that we as a society need to remember.

I, Tonya (dir: Craig Gillespe) – The Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan story was a touch before my time. I only learned about it from a Weird Al song. But her biopic makes me feel sympathetic for an unsympathetic figure. Tonya Harding was a woman who literally tried to destroy the competition – something that few people would celebrate. But the film doesn’t try to repaint her actions. An opening crawl reveals that the interviews the filmmakers conducted with her were contradictory at best. Rather, it shows the broken home she came from, filled with abusive romantic partners and an unfeeling mother who literally put a knife in her bicep. It makes me realize just why people became so interested in the story. And it still takes time to condemn all us voyeurs in the audience who built Harding to be an international sensation. It’s funny, it’s clever, and it’s touching.

Lady Bird (dir: Greta Gerwig) – This film was something we still don’t see enough of at the multiplex. I was happy to see a talented female director get a chance to tell a really personal story. Lady Bird is a story of a millennial’s youth. Like all teenagers, she thinks the world revolves around her and thinks that adults only exist to crush her dreams. I know I remember a time when I felt that wayBut while most “coming of age” films think that audiences need to learn that lesson, Lady Bird only offers us a glimpse into Lady Bird’s life. We learn that she’s frustrated and makes a lot of mistakes but, deep down, she’s slowly recognizing there’s a lot she needs to learn. It’s a more honest message than you’ll get in a lot of award bait, coming of age movies.

Raw (dir: Julia Ducournau) – Raw is the best feminist horror film since Ginger Snaps. It focuses on the…messiness…of coming of age films by following a new, vegetarian university student who develops an insatiable lust for meat after being forced to eat a rabbit kidney as part of a hazing ritual. And when I saw “meat,” I don’t just mean the animal variety. Raw, like all great horror films, has so many layers to unpack that it forces you to watch its graphic violence and gore. Those moments of someone eating a severed human finger aren’t just there for shock. They actually mean something about society’s expectations of women and the feelings that young people go through when they discover what their bodies can do.

The Shape of Water (dir: Guillermo del Toro) – I’ll admit I found the idea behind the film very weird when I saw it. It was about a human woman, rendered mute by a childhood injury, falling in love with a literal water monster. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what del Toro was doing. The monster movies that del Toro loved in his youth were some of the most progressive films of their time. Women were allowed to be main characters and they at least acknowledged there were some people who didn’t conform to society’s expectations. The Shape of Water is a tribute to that feeling. The film is a buttoned-up 1960’s period piece that has a female protagonist and features gay and black characters who are depicted as the voice of reason. That shouldn’t sound rebellious or groundbreaking, but it’s still a message that we need to hear. Also, the film contains my favorite individual scene in any film this year, in which Fred Astaire is replaced by the Creature from the Black Lagoon. 

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (dir: Martin McDonagh) – Although this film does not explicitly mention social media, Three Billboards perfectly captures the level of discourse in our country. In order to get any attention to even the most horrible problems, you have to stand on a corner and constantly shout about how awful things are and how no one is doing anything to fix it. Then you have to wait for people to shout back about how your statement really inconveniences them and how it would be better if we just didn’t talk about problems at all. It’s a great satire wrapped up in a touching drama about a woman grieving the loss of her daughter. Frances McDormand also gives the best performance she has since Fargo. 

So thank you for these bright moments, 2017.

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Call Me By Your Name – The Most Problematic Movie of 2017

Every year, there is always one film that all the critics seem to love but doesn’t connect with me. Films like The Revenant, which won DiCaprio an Oscar but which I found to be all style and no substance.

This year, that film is Call Me By Your Name. It’s got a 98 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes and the National Review Board named it one of the ten best films of 2017. Normally, I would simply roll my eyes, wonder why everyone is throwing raves at a film with the pacing of a geriatric trying to lose a footrace to a snail, and leave it at that.

But when I saw the film, I realized there were aspects of it that I need to respond to – namely, how such a film like Name can win such reviews in a year that has been marked by a cultural reexamination of sex, sexuality, and the use of positions of power to seduce young, less powerful people.  Frankly, I found Call Me By Your Name creepy.

Call Me By Your Name is a gay romance film. The 17-year-old Elio (Timothee Chalamet) is seduced by a PhD student named Oliver (Armie Hammer) who is living with Elio’s family over the summer to help his professor father with his work.

The film wouldn’t be worthwhile even without the undertones I’m discussing. Somehow, it takes two and a half hours to tell this story, which includes every Merchant/Ivory stereotype imaginable. (James Ivory wrote the screenplay.) It’s obsessed with the nostalgia and all of the characters are the sort of people who embody the phrase “Starbuck liberal.” They live in a huge mansion despite never seemingly doing anything. (OK, yes, there are scenes of the professor looking over pictures of ancient statues for research and going to an archaeological dig, but his profession is treated as an afterthought.) There are long scenes of characters playing the piano and walking along a lake just to pass the time. And the editor seemed to feel that, if it was shot, then it deserves to be in the movie. One long shot shows Elio and Oliver are riding bikes and abandon them to walk. But the film keeps showing their forgotten bicycles as they retreat further along the path. I wanted to tell the camera man to stop being lazy and get over there. There are elements of the film that I liked. The soundtrack is good and the father’s final monologue is profoundly moving. But it didn’t end up meaning anything to me. Close your eyes and picture an Oscar bait drama. Call Me By Your Name is exactly that. The film means nothing but seems to imply enough to make people wonder if it’s meant to be profound. It’s the Chauncey Gardiner of movies.

But let’s address the main reason I am writing this – the relationship between Elio and Oliver. There have been some truly wonderful films about gay romance. Last year’s Moonlight comes to mind. Milk also had some great sex scenes that showcased the passion between the characters. Gods and Monsters is a fantastic film about an old man trying to recapture his youth by seducing a young gardener. The fact this old man happens to be the celebrated director of Frankenstein helps everyone realize how progressive some of those old monster movies were. Blue Is the Warmest Color is one of the greatest, most honest love stories I’ve ever seen.

I never felt such a connection in Elio and Oliver’s story. Mostly, I was concerned about Elio. He was clearly still wondering what exactly these feelings about Oliver meant and if he was truly ready to act on them. And Oliver spent the entire time mocking him for it. There’s a scene late in the film in which Elio masturbates into a peach. When Oliver finds it, he mocks Elio and goes in to take a bite of the peach. Elio begs him to stop, but Oliver continues to tease him with it.

This is not seduction. Elio is clearly embarrassed and Oliver wants to do nothing but take advantage of Elio’s naiveté. And it made me think of some of the recent headlines that have dominated our national conversation.

We live in a time when sexual assault cases are finally catching up to powerful people. Kevin Spacey forced an affair with several men (at least one of whom was under aged) and has gone from one of the most celebrated American actors to a pariah who is unlikely to find work for a long, long time. Harvey Weinstein helped produced some of the greatest films of the past 40 years, but the accusations against him have ruined his career in a matter of weeks.

Was it just because of the fact that they were, at best, inappropriately pressuring romantic partners? No, it’s because they were powerful people who used their positions of power to abuse people they did not view as equals. To them, their actions were about exerting that power over people who could do nothing to stop it. It was a game to them.

There are just so many scenes in which I felt Oliver was acting the same way. I talked about the peach scene above. There’s another scene in which an intoxicated Elio vomits in the street after a night out with Oliver, who treats it as entertainment. Oliver is also the one who ensures that Elio can see his naked body as he is changing to go swimming. To Oliver, Elio is a play thing. Yes, there are scenes in which Elio starts to be more assertive in his feelings. (He’s the one who kisses Oliver first.) But too many scenes took me out of the film and back into the reality we live in. Why should I feel charmed by this story when I’ve seen how it plays out in our world?

“Well, what about Dirty Dancing?” someone told me after I confessed my views. “That’s about a 17-year-old having a relationship with a much older person and it’s a classic.” That was a good point and I was willing to address it to them directly up until they told me to, quote, “fuck my double standard.”

But I’ll address it here. Yes, Baby is a teenager and is much younger than Johnny. But Dirty Dancing was not only told entirely from Baby’s point of view, it painted Baby as Johnny’s equal. Baby was a smart, confident young woman who initiates all of the romantic overtures with Johnny. Indeed, Johnny initially scoffs at the idea Baby can be his “dance partner,” and the film ends with her as Johnny’s equal in every way.

Call Me By Your Name doesn’t do that. The whole reason Elio seems to be attracted to Oliver is because Oliver is everything Elio is not – and more. The film paints Elio as an inexperienced skinny youth who has isolated himself from the ways of the world, while Oliver is a stereotypical “manly man” who is not only extroverted but constantly in control over everyone he meets. He looks far older than his character is supposed to be. (Oliver is 24, but Hammer is 30.) This is something the film goes to great lengths to acknowledge Elio’s inexperience and his adolescent looks. I never felt that Oliver and Elio were equals in the relationship, and the more I thought about it, the worse it got for me.

Call Me By Your Name may have worked in another year. But it comes across as incredibly tone-deaf to release such a film now. Some have already said that they disagree with me. Fine. To them, I ask they think about what the outcry would be if the film were told exactly as it was but Elio was a young woman. There would be pitchforks and torches outside the distributor’s offices.

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A Review of Blade Runner 2049

My biggest concern with Blade Runner 2049 is that the creators would use it as an opportunity to remake the first film with a bigger budget rather than delve deeper into the  fascinating world that the first film created. Think Tron: Legacy. That was a sequel to a beloved ’80s sci-fi classic that looked great but ultimately was a narrative mess that left me with far more questions than answers.

Blade Runner 2049 avoids this trap by doing what a great sequel should do – using the original as a springboard for new ideas. Yes, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is back but he’s not the protagonist of the film. 2049 also does not repeat the same things of what it means to be human as the first film. The new characters make that question almost irrelevant. Instead, the new Blade Runner asks the next logical question. What will it be like when humanity is replaced?

Before the release of the film, director Dennis Villeneuve kept a tight lid on the plot. It does help if you know as little as possible, but it’s also impossible to properly discuss the film without at least revealing some of the major plot points.

It’s thirty years after the events of the first Runner and Officer K (Ryan Gosling) has been tasked with hunting a replicant named Sapper Morton (Dave Bautista), who works as a “protein farmer.” (This job involves harvesting grubs for people to eat.) K is obviously a replicant himself and is harassed by other LAPD officers for being a “skin job.” K manages to “retire” Sapper, but discovers a box buried under a dead tree on his property. The box contains the skeletal remains of a woman who died in childbirth – a woman who also turns out to be a replicant.

Take one guess as to who that is.

K is tasked with hunting down the child of the replicant, while the Wallace Corporation (which bought the bankrupt Tyrell Corporation) sends out a replicant assassin named Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) to find the child and bring it back to their headquarters alive. Along the way, K comes to believe he is the mysterious child and tries to find out just what happened to his mother and father.

I’ll start where the filmmakers want to start. When the first film was released, everyone loved the visual design but criticized the story. I know some people who will do the same here. The film is long, but I never felt bored and I cannot identify scenes that I would remove. Even the long driving sequences tell us a lot about this new world. For one, Blade Runner 2049 subtly builds on a future from the alternate timeline of the first film. There are references to Pan Am and the Soviet Union still being in existence in this future. We see advertisements everywhere but rarely see anyone purchase anything. We see humanity going through the same things that we’re fighting today, including the use of children in sweatshops. And there are throwaway jokes about a giant blackout that caused the erasure of most records. I laughed when I heard someone talking about how his mother still regrets losing all of his baby photos in the blackout, but then I realized that something very similar can happen to us. Those are the sort of moments that lesser films ignore. Yet those are what create the film’s world.

So Blade Runner 2049 looks great, but I already knew that would be the case before I purchased my ticket. What I cared about was the story behind those visuals. I was impressed that 2049 acknowledged what the existence of replicants meant to the world. It was something hinted at in the first film – the replicants were perfect beings that humanity was frightened of. Here, we see replicants living out domestic lives and blending into human society perfectly. There’s no discussion about who is a human and who is a replicant because it’s irrelevant. What matters more are character’s actions and how they build their own lives.

Considering the film is about childbirth, 2049 is much more sexually charged than the original. The most interesting subplot in the film involves the romance between K and his holographic girlfriend Joi (Ana de Armas). She’s a sort of Siri like hologram that lives in K’s flat and is excited when K brings home a new device that means she can travel with him. My personal favorite scene in the film has Joi hiring a “pleasure model” replicant so that she and K can finally consummate their relationship. It was a tender moment of devotion, but then I had to take a step back and realize that this was something that wasn’t happening to real people.

And the film anticipated my realization. K eventually sees an advertisement of a giant holographic Joi teasing him and potential other clients about how she can fulfill their desires. It gives K pause. Does Joi really “love” him? What is their relationship? What does it mean to have a product replace genuine humanity? It makes it more complicated because K himself isn’t human.

The film is also not obsessed with the actions of its predecessor. Harrison Ford doesn’t appear until well into the second act and by that time it’s clear that what’s happening is outside Deckard’s control. There are only two other characters from the original that make an appearance and there’s no reference to replicants being any sort of threat like they were in the first film. 2049 is looking to create its own impact.

So it focuses on the new characters. Ryan Gosling is great as K, a replicant who seems comfortable with the fact that he was designed solely to take orders from the police. (“I wasn’t aware that was an option,” K says after he’s asked if he wants to turn down an assignment.) Yet he also wants more in his existence and seems excited when he finds out he may be the most important being in this new future. I frequently forgot Gosling’s character was meant to be a replicant. He plays the noir cop trope perfectly. But, playing a trope involves a level of artificiality. K has the same desires that all of us have. He wants to matter in a world that treats everyone like a burden. Gosling makes the film work. He’s perfect as the fake human who still wants something more in life.

The only weakness the new Blade Runner has is in Jared Leto. As Wallace, he’s become the replacement for Tyrell and the character would, on its surface, is meant to parody the younger innovators who are challenging the status quo (like Mark Zuckerberg) but also have no control over their own creations (also like Zuckerberg). Leto, however, plays the character like some sort of bored god. He’s not a threatening villain or even an interesting character. He shows up occasionally to deliver his lines like he’s reciting monologues from Richard III in a high school classroom and somehow imply that he’s behind the whole conflict of the film. He just leaves me with more questions than answers. Why, exactly, does he want replicants to replace humans? Does he think that they’ll select him as their leader? What are his feelings about the modern world? He was the only element of the film that left me with more questions than answers. I’d also like to remind Jared Leto that acting does not mean blinding yourself with contact lenses. It means connecting your character with your audience. Still, his character didn’t ruin the film. Luv made a great antagonist in her own right.

Blade Runner 2049 is one of the biggest surprises of the year. It had every reason to crash and burn. But it’s not only a worthy sequel to the original classic, it’s every bit as good the original. Villenueve was not satisfied in recreating the same themes and tension that existed in the previous film. He updates the Blade Runner story so that it resonates even more with a world that is very close to living in the world of the first movie.  Now that we’ve decided we no longer care about real experiences and virtual experiences, we have to decide what our experiences mean. Blade Runner 2049 forces us to confront that new reality.

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A Review of mother!

It’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog, mostly because August has become a desolate wasteland for films. (Although you should absolutely see Detroit and Logan Lucky if you get a chance.) Luckily we’re slowly getting into Oscar season, which means studios have remembered they don’t have to release poor films just to please teenagers who spend their time at the movies contemplating the feasibility of getting to third base in the last row of the theater.

It’s this mentality that leads to films like mother!, Darren Aronofsky’s latest film. I didn’t really understand what it was when I went into it. I know that it was marketed as a horror film with some vaguely religious overtones. I was expecting something like Lars von Trier’s Antichrist.

It’s not. mother! is a simultaneously fascinating and frustrating film. Aronofsky was not interested in courting the main stream, despite his recognizable cast. The story may seem familiar but has been turned into something dark and ugly. It’s an uncompromising film in an age where everyone seems to be seeking compromise so as not to offend their own beliefs.

Maybe that’s why people have turned against it so much. But to dismiss mother! is a mistake. Arronofsky’s film is an intelligent allegory that time will treat kindly.

For the first act, I tried in vain to figure out what the film was “really” about. I was convinced that the film is like a code that requires you to “understand” it. It’s the idea that lead to the insipid Room 237 documentary. It starts with the titular Mother (Jennifer Lawrence) living in a giant mansion in the woods with Him (Javier Bardem). Like Antichrist, no characters are named. Their idyllic life is interrupted by an older couple (Ed Harris and Michelle Pfieffer), who wander into their home and start questioning aspects of the couples life.

I can’t quite say what happens after that. There’s murder, pregnancy, mysterious images of death and decay, and a paranoia reminiscent of Rosemary’s Baby. But mother! is not interested in the standard narrative conventions. There’s never a moment where the film tries to explain itself or even identify if it’s a skewed point of view. “Is this all a bad dream?” an audience member behind me asked, about ten minutes before it ended. The film isn’t saying.

It’s easy to pick up on a few of the symbols. mother! is a Christian allegory, taking some of the ideas presented in the Bible to their logical conclusion. It starts with the Garden of Eden (the home) and Adam and Eve arriving, a tragedy involving their sons, the birth of Christ, the devotion of his followers, and the ultimate destruction that blind faith and fear causes in the Book of Revelation. It’s more difficult to relate to them on an emotional level. The film is very Kubrickian in that regard. It’s no interested in the emotional plight of its characters – not even Mother. It’s more interested in trying to convey its symbols to the audience. Yet I couldn’t figure them out at first. I spent my time wondering how many things that dying heart in the walls of the house could possibly be, wondering if I would get a payoff.

So why was it only when I stopped trying to figure it out did it work for me if mother! didn’t have an emotional core and was uninterested in allowing the audience to keep up? Because then I realized that the film didn’t have just one meaning and, no matter what, I was admiring the skill behind it. mother! was completely unpredictable and what it left up to the imagination was just as intriguing as the images it created. For example, we never get a chance to read Him’s poetry for ourselves. But everyone who does is left in an emotional frenzy. Mother is reduced to tears and can only repeat that “it’s beautiful” after she reads his final draft. So what does it say? The fact mother! doesn’t reveal his poetry is part of the point.

People criticized Eyes Wide Shut when it was released, but no one recognized how it created a world from the ground up that was only familiar enough to be completely disturbing. mother! works the same way. It’s party scenes feel familiar, like parties you’ve been to or even hosted. But as things become more out of control (fans begin ripping pieces of the wall off the house “just to prove they were there”), the film feels more like a nightmare that many people have had, where you recognize where you are but everything looks wrong. mother!’s subversion of expectations is what makes it so memorable and so horrific.

The weakest spot in the film for me is Jennifer Lawrence’s performance. The reason a movie like Black Swan worked was because of Natalie Portman’s performance. She served as a gateway into the world of Swan and I felt as confused and scared as she was. I never felt that with Mother. This film doesn’t have the same goals as Swan, but I was still left wanting more from Lawrence. She’s been sleepwalker through roles lately and I don’t know why. Lawrence maintains an emotional distance throughout the film that makes it difficult to relate to her and thus even more difficult to understand Mother’s plight. I usually don’t blame actors but I have a feeling a reason the film was made was thanks to Lawrence’s influence. Why bother if you don’t have passion in your performance?

But then is hard for me to complain about a lack of humanity in any actor when the characters they play may not even be human. And I found it very easy to relate to her demeanor as she ordered strangers not to sit on an unfinished sink at a party, and try to sneak away from the invading guests as they become more violent. It was enough for what the film needed, if not enough to get Lawrence any award recognition.

mother! is a film that requires an awful lot of patience. More patience that most people are probably going to be able to muster. But there is a pay off and mother! contains some of the most haunting images in modern horror. I understand why some people will dismiss it outright, but I can only admire its ambition and the lasting effect it left on me. Aronofsky’s got something here that I don’t fully understand. But I still admire it.

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A Review of Dunkirk

There are two possible Christopher Nolan films. In his great films (Memento, The Dark Knight, Inception) Nolan starts with a central idea and allows everything to build from it. In his not so great films (Interstellar, The Dark Knight Rises) Nolan piles as much as he can into the film to hide the fact that he doesn’t have a core to build from. Sometimes it’s still enjoyable due to the characters (like Rises) but I still leave the film missing something.

Dunkirk had the potential to fall into either category. It’s a very complicated narrative with some thin characters. But it’s also built on a great attention to detail that really captivated me. Despite knowing nothing about the characters, I still felt a deep connection with them.

Dunkirk is about the evacuation of Dunkirk. (Shocking, I know.) The film is separated into three separate stories – land, air, and sea. On land, soldiers try to evacuate France as the Nazis close in. In the air, members of the Royal Air Force try to protect the Navy ships full of soldiers from Dunkirk. On the sea, civilian sailboats sail to Dunkirk to support the Royal Navy as they ferry soldiers back after Germany destroys many naval ships.

What’s amazing is how Nolan wanted to create a spectacle on film. Dunkirk is the most amazing looking and amazing sounding film I’ve seen in a while. I don’t care how much you have to pay for a ticket. You owe it to yourself to see Dunkirk on the biggest screen you can.

It’s not just about the amazing visuals. It’s about the sense that you’re actually in Dunkirk with the troops, or that you’re on a ship that’s being torpedoed. There’s no sense of the larger battle. We never see a single German soldier nor do we get a sense of why Dunkirk is so strategically important.

Unfortunately, this leads to some bad characterization. I cannot name a single character from the film without checking IMDB nor can I identify a stand out performance. Everyone is never onscreen long enough for them to stand up for me. The point, I guess, is that each of these individuals were only in the background of the later conflict. This isn’t a film about intimacy. And the actors never challenge themselves in playing these characters. It’s reminiscent of old war epics from the 1950s. That sounds like a compliment, but think of how many performances from The Longest Day stand out to you.

Even though the acting is a tad wooden, it works for the film. The characters are running on base emotion – confusion, desperation, and anger. Unlike Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line, no one bothers to philosophize about the war. That’s a conversation that’s worked for many films. But it wouldn’t work for Dunkirk. This tone works for this film because I get a greater emotional connection with the characters.

My personal favorite story was the “sea,” which saw boat owner Mr. Dawson traveling with his son and another boy to Dunkirk to rescue the troops. They find a sailor who survived a German attack. It’s a microcosm of every war film, with conflicting interests causing tragedy. And the actors were playing archetypes. Dawson was committed to duty while the soldier was in shock over seeing his friends die. 

I also enjoyed a scene on “land” in which a bunch of soldiers trying to escape in a shipwrecked boat are threatened by Germans using the boat for target practice and piercing the hull. It’s a tense scene out of a horror film, as the soldier try to remain calm as stray bullets threaten them. We see the bullet holes form on the side of the ship and hear the silence in the score. (There practically is no score, except for a ticking stop watch that permeates through every scene.) 

That last scene shows the intimacy in Dunkirk. It’s a simple scene shot in a grand way that really made me feel like I was there. Nolan is a director that still cares about the craft. He can take seemingly flimsy material and turn it into something incredible. 

Dunkirk is an experience that few films are willing to try anymore. It’s not about the characters. To paraphrase Casablanca, their problems don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. It’s about our sharing their experience. Dunkirk is one of the most effective war films to come along in quite some time.

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A Review of Atomic Blonde

The John Wick franchise has received a lot of critical praise. Most viewers see it as a return to the great, choreographed action films of the past. I’ve heard people talk about how it ranks with Die Hard.

I was not among the biggest fans of Wick. I enjoyed the technical skill but I didn’t feel engaged with any of the characters. Over the top action films can go in two different directions. They can be self-aware and use their elaborate scenes of violence for comedy. (See the underrated Shoot em Up) or the action underscores the internal conflict in the main characters. They are not shooting people to look cool, but to distract themselves from an internal struggle that’s much worse. (See John Woo’s classic The Killer.)

Wick tried to have it both ways. The revenge plot was dumb and was meant to be a flimsy excuse for the action sequences. This could have still worked if Wick embraced the absurd aspects of its premise. But Wick takes itself far too seriously. The best scenes weren’t even the action scenes, but the scenes of Wick talking to the concierge of the secret assassin’s hotel, making requests for room service. The action scenes were far too quick and never built up.

Atomic Blonde, by Wick co-director David Leitch, improves on its predecessor. First, the action scenes are much better. They’re allowed to build and allowed to continue as long as they need to. And I actually cared about the characters involved in the shooting.

The entire film is told as a debriefing by MI-6 agent Lorraine Broughton (Charlize Theron). She’s a very dissatisfied agent who wonders what’s going to happen to her. The film’s main actions take place roughly a month before the fall of the Berlin Wall and Lorraine is already trying to imagine a life after the Cold War. She drinks straight vodka and is constantly turning up with new bruises. She’s working with Percival (James McAvoy), a station agent in East Berlin who dresses like an English punk rocker. Neither of them are what they seem.

Theron is a great as a grizzled secret agent. She’s not a superhero that is always in command of a fight. She’s very vulnerable and constantly in pain. She’s required  to present a tough exterior, which is why she blows off people in her life. But much like Craig’s Bond, she’s chugging liquor in order to live with the things she’s done. Theron’s performance is about an internal struggle with everything she has to do.

The film also has a lot of something I thought John Wick was lacking – style. The film is made to look like an eighties synthpop music video occasionally interrupted by spray paint interstitials. It helps set the mood of the film as a fantasy rather than an a realistic portrayal of spy work – which helps explain the plot twists. John Wick threw neon everywhere to suggest something stylistic, while Atomic Blonde actually created a new action movie world.

Now, I cannot explain the plot. It has something to do with smuggling an East German refugee with knowledge of a list of deep cover agents across the Berlin Wall. But there are double and triple crosses between practically all of the characters. We’re never told exactly why the agent needs to be smuggled out against East Berlin when a physical copy of the list exists. We’re also introduced to numerous characters (including a man who hangs out on the roof of an East German movie theater) that the film promptly forgets. And the person telling this story may not be entirely reliable. This storytelling technique has been used to great effect in other films, but here it tested my patience.

But the action scenes work despite the confusion I felt at times. Atomic Blonde makes you feel for the characters and hope they succeed. The entire film can be summarized with the staircase fight scene. Lorraine tries to fight multiple assassins to protect Spyglass, the East German refugee. She’s outnumbered and there’s a chance she’ll be killed, but she presses on. The film pulls no punches, making the audience feel every blow and stab the assassins give to Lorraine. That’s how I felt watching the film. Not like I was being stabbed, but as though I couldn’t understand what was happening yet understood the stakes.

I enjoyed Atomic Blonde. Yes, I understand that it’s ridiculous. But to me that was part of the charm. I at least cared enough about the characters to care about the action scenes. Atomic Blonde is among the best pure action films to come out in some time.

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A Review of War for the Planet of the Apes

I really enjoyed Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. It took the first film as a starting point and focused on the apes actually creating a society from scratch. It wasn’t another mindless action film, but a film about “people” trying to figure out how they belong in a rapidly changing world.

Dawn worked because it wasn’t reliant on the first film. War leaves me conflicted. I still like it a lot. But should I praise it for giving me more of something I like or condemn it for not taking as many risks as its predecessor?

I’ll go with the former option. War does everything Dawn did correctly. There are also many nods to the original series. This new Apes has ended one of the best modern blockbuster trilogies. 

In the years since Dawn, Caesar and the apes have been at war with a group of humans. One, known as the Colonel (Woody Harrelson) is becoming particularly vicious in his attacks. One of them kills Caesar’s wife and son. He sends his tribe to find a new home while he and a small group go to the Colonel’s compound. There they find the Colonel has captured his tribe and is using them to build a wall so he can continue fighting a civil war with what remains of the U.S. army.

Let’s start with Andy Serkis’ Caesar. Serkis has officially replaced Lon Chaney as the Man of 1000 Faces. He puts just as much effort into his mo-cap roles as Daniel Day Lewis does in his dramas. Caesar was bound to be impossible to play across an entire trilogy, going from a convincing ape to a convincing man.

Serkis in War plays Caesar as an ape doing his best to convince himself he’s something more. The film plants seeds of an epic myth that will be told by the ape society for centuries. Caesar seems keenly aware of this and wants to live up to that expectation. It would be challenging for an actor to play a character, much less one who has to do it as an animal. 

Besides Caesar, most of the apes still communicate in sign language. Think about the challenge. These actors have to convey complex emotions as creatures that can’t talk and that lives part of their lives unable to feel what they currently feel. 

I mention all of this because I don’t believe the acting in the Apes trilogy has been recognized enough. It’s a challenge to make these characters relatable and empathetic and to make poo tossing the ultimate symbol of rebellion. Yet the actors in War do it perfectly. 

What’s especially fascinating is how none of the films explain what’s happening to human civilization. I have no idea what really remains of society. There’s still an army, but no one seems to know who they’re serving. It makes the people left scared not just for their lives, but for their futures. Remember the first Apes film, when people couldn’t talk and functioned like wild animals? This film shows they may be well on their way to that fate. (One young girl even picks up a vanity key chain that reads “Nova.”) It makes for a complex villain in the Colonel. He’s not sadistic, but responding and imprisoning apes becauses he’s scared. 

Finally, the actual war scene is engaging. It’s not a battle between the apes and the humans. The apes are only caught in the middle as the humans fight. It’s in sync with the other films in the franchise. Apes were never meant to be man’s enemy. We were our own enemy who “blew it up.” And it’s exciting to watch Caesar dodge missiles as he tries to ensure his tribe’s survival. I was emotionally invested in Caesar and wanted him to prevail. 

Yes, I liked War. It’s perfect from a technical standpoint and kept me engaged the entire time. But I felt the film was reusing a lot of elements from Dawn. Caesar’s character arc is the same. He has to choose between his tribe and his own desires, often at times when he can’t see the consequences his decisions are having. It worked in Dawn because the villainous Koba was there as a foil to Caesar, but there’s no foil here. It was also odd seeing the apes back as the oppressed class. That had already been done in Rise. Using the apes as slave labor to build a wall sure does resonate in today’s climate and I was emotionally invested in their plight. But it also was something I’d seen before. 

So I’m not as enthusiastic about War as I was for Dawn. This approach was the safest the film could take. It’s the equivalent of going to a restaurant and re-ordering your favorite dish. It’s still enjoyable but the only reason that it became your favorite was because it surprised you when you first tried it. That surprise is gone. It’s not really anyone’s fault and I’m glad that I still enjoyed the experience. But can you imagine if War took a few more chances?

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