5. “Jackie”
It’s genuinely odd to me that “Jackie” is emerging as an Oscar contender, because the mythmaking Oscar version of this story is not what Pablo Larraín delivers in his English-language debut. Instead “Jackie” is about that very practise of mythmaking, about the lie of celebrity and the self-conscious fabrications of fame. Natalie Portman‘s itchy, mannered turn is perfectly suited to this meta project of deconstruction (though again, I’m surprised at how much awards traction she’s getting given Hollywood’s fondness for naturalism and this role’s lack of it). Portman’s own fame and performance is layered on top of the fame and performativity of Jackie Kennedy herself in ways that makes even the most expected biopic beats (interviews with a journalist; a confession to a priest; even a drunken dressing-up montage) sing with an unexpectedly discordant, atonal energy (brilliantly embodied in Mica Levi‘s score). Standard biopics, even the two good ones, tend to be shrouded in reverence for their subjects and polished to a smooth, gleaming, period-accurate sheen. But “Jackie” is a sharp-edged bundle of razor wire dialogue and flashing shards of mirror and artifice that forcibly remind you that you’re not watching the real thing — it’s at best a refracted, distorted reflection, and a partial one at that. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t dazzle — Larrain’s thrilling filmmaking intelligence lends flares of brilliance to this clever, difficult investigation into the myths that Jackie created about Camelot, and the myths we’ve since created about her. [Review]
4. “Arrival”
It’s not often that a Hollywood film really surprises — it is a risk-averse industry town that would rather tweak a formula than roll the dice on a something new, or potentially difficult, or hard to market. But so much about Denis Villeneuve‘s “Arrival” surprised me — the somberness of the tone; the arcane linguistics theories put forward to support its central thesis; the unabashed interest and respect it has for its central character (beautifully, quietly played by Amy Adams) a woman whose emotional sensitivity is accorded as much importance to the story as her intellect. Most of all I was surprised by the whole third act that, as a fan of science fiction in general I felt followed through on its tantalizing sci-fi premise in a more comprehensive way than almost any other film in recent memory. There are formulaic elements, to be sure — the whole middle section feels a little overfamiliar in its sabotage plot and international politicking, but the real core of the film is the hugely ambitious, far-reaching and gravely beautiful idea that, as a species, we might someday be able to transcend the mess we’ve made, and evolve beyond our current states. It gave me a peculiar sense of calm optimism for the distant future, even if the immediate short term seems bleak. I said up top that these films were my lifeboats, well, “Arrival” is a lifeboat rendered as a spaceship, hovering overhead, buoyed up by the belief that we will one day move beyond our worst impulses, beyond the artificial frontiers we create and beyond time and death itself. In 2016, which often felt like a trudge through an ankle-deep sludge of time and death, “Arrival,” simply, gave me hope. [Review]
3. “OJ: Made in America”
Months after devouring all 467 minutes of Ezra Edelman‘s monumental ESPN-funded documentary I still have not quite finished processing everything it has to teach us about race relations, celebrity and ego in contemporary America. Watching its five parts back-to-back felt like witnessing the grandest classical epic unfold in real time before your eyes, like witnessing the events that Homer jotted down in The Odyssey or that Sophocles would turn into “Antigone.” This is a colossal film, not just in runtime and breadth and exhaustiveness, but in terms of its importance for understanding that what America is today has its roots in divisions that plagued society long before Orenthal James Simpson threw his first football. Most impressive is the twofold focus: on OJ as a towering figure made of equal parts talent, charisma and egotism, a supremely gifted and charming man who believed that his exceptionalism put him beyond the rules that governed ordinary men (and certainly ordinary black men); and on OJ as a puppet, the crest of a wave not of his making, a symbol of an America divided by the very racism he believed he transcended. In the crucible of OJ’s spectacular rise and dangerous, precipitous, lethal fall Edelman reads the entire recent history of the United States and it’s as gripping as any thriller and as primal as any Greek tragedy.
2. “Things to Come”
If there’s a problem with Mia Hansen-Love‘s “Things to Come” it’s this: it’s perfect. And it has the kind of fine-boned perfection that tends not to provoke as much visceral reaction, and therefore noise, as imperfection, especially as there are always those who will interpret a quietly rapturous response as a lack of urgency. But “Things to Come” is urgent, in fact it’s a vital picture, a hopeful portrait of how to approach even the direst of life-stage setbacks (here the end of a decades-long marriage) with humor and spirit and grace. Personifying all those characteristics, of course, is Isabelle Huppert in her approx. 64th great performance this year — here she plays philosophy professor Nathalie, the mother of two adult children, who separates from her husband in a typically undramatic yet brilliantly observed scene. It’s the way Hansen-Love threads together the often oppositional forces of life, beds the drama down into anti-drama and Ikea bags and the way Huppert negotiates even the character’s trickiest turns with agility and a gleam in her eye that makes “Things to Come” so special, and I’ve a feeling that in the near future we’re going to need all the examples of how to face an uncertain future, in which circumstances beyond our control are having irrevocable effects on our lives, that we can get. Self-care has become something of a buzzword of late and perhaps that’s Nathalie’s most admirable trait: the ability to continue to like herself, and trust her independence, despite adversity. If recent events have left you feeling despairing, bitter or fearful, the best revenge on them is living well, and this lovely, wise film shows us how we might do just that. [Review]
1. “Moonlight”
I don’t understand by what alchemy Barry Jenkins‘ quiet, deeply moving film can continue to gain in power and beauty long after you watch it, but it does: it’s a film I loved immediately but in the days and weeks since, it has, without my even really noticing, accumulated. Perhaps it’s the liquid smoothness with which it unfolds, the way time seems to lap lazily around its ankles, like time can when you’re little (or Little) before a cut so quick and seamless that we scarcely register we’re in another moment, and not just another verse of the same sad, sweet song. Perhaps it’s that while you watch you’re slightly bewitched by the lovely way the music complements these fragile, wary characters, or how the three central performances from Alex R. Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and Trevante Rhodes meld into a single choral whole in that one expression of naked unsureness on Black’s face in the bright light of his friend’s kitchen. Actually I think it’s that the film is made up of such fine-edged slivers of intimate insight that you scarcely even notice the lacerations they’re leaving across your heart until it’s a few days later and you suddenly bleed out thinking about Mahershala Ali’s Juan teaching Little to swim. Or maybe it’s just that we grow towards kindness the way plants grow toward light, so the expansion we feel is the not movie at all, it’s us, becoming bigger, kinder people for having watched this little miracle of a film. I made the slightly facetious claim earlier that all of these films had in some way “improved” me, but I say it here with absolute sincerity and a restored conviction in the power of cinema that no other 2016 title has quite instilled: “Moonlight” makes us better people. If only there were some way of putting it in the drinking water.
Honorable Mentions
This list absolutely killed me to draw up — that’s how a good a movie year I had — and if I thought anybody would have the patience to read it, I’d have gone up to 25, maybe even 30 titles. For those curious, my 21-25 picks would have been: 21. Jim Jarmusch’s “Paterson”; 22. Japanese sci-fi/bodyswap animation “Your Name“; 23. Karyn Kusama’s terrific little thriller “The Invitation“; 24. Jeff Nichols‘ lovely, quiet “Loving“; 25. Laika‘s beautiful and moving “Kubo and the Two Strings“; with Kenneth Lonergan’s “Manchester By The Sea,” Park Chan-wook‘s gorgeous “The Handmaiden“; the as-yet undistributed “Japanese Girls Never Die” by Japanese director Daigo Matsui which I reviewed for Variety and two Chinese films that I also covered for Variety — “The Summer Is Gone” and “Underground Fragrance” — bringing the tally up to 30.
I could go on, so I will — I also really enjoyed and heartily recommend Kleber Mendonco Filho‘s “Aquarius“; Jake Paltrow and Noah Baumbach‘s “De Palma“; totally bonkers Iranian film “A Dragon Arrives!” from director Mani Haghighi; heartfelt, funny, profane Irish movie “A Date for Mad Mary“; Turkish director Reha Erdem’s sorrowful little fable “Big Big World“; weird German psychosexual drama “Original Bliss“; Whit Stillman’s delightful “Love and Friendship“; promising Aussie debut “Hounds of Love“; Amat Escalante‘s divisive Venice title “The Untamed“; the Daniels‘ surprisingly affecting quirkfest “Swiss Army Man“; Kelly Reichardt‘s triptych “Certain Women,” Dan Trachtenberg‘s deeply enjoyable “10 Cloverfield Lane“; Taika Waititi‘s charming “Hunt for the Wilderpeople“; Ira Sachs’ terrific “Little Men“; Hirokazu Kore-eda‘s beautifully played “After the Storm“; Chad Hartigan‘s undervalued “Morris From America“; Danish pregnancy horror “Shelley“; and Antonio Campos‘ “Christine” which featured the best performance that seems to consistently slide off the register in this crazy competitive year for female performances, from Rebecca Hall.
I haven’t yet seen “Silence,” “I, Daniel Blake,” “Moana,” “Under the Shadow” or “The Fits,” among many other titles, but believe all the people who have told me that I should.
I am, as ever, tortured by the certainty that I’ve left something stellar off by mistake, but for the time being, that’s it. Thank you for reading — not just this beast but throughout 2016. As you probably know, since May we’ve been a wholly independent entity, which is exciting but also perilous, and we appreciate your visit more than ever — please don’t be a stranger in 2017. We promise to be good. Stay warm.