20. “High Flying Bird”
If any character in this basketball disruptor drama references the institution of slavery, they must repent with a makeshift Hail Mary: “I love the Lord and all his Black people.” “Moonlight” scribe Tarell Alvin McCraney’s virtuosic script plays the bit for comedy, but its conspicuous repetition underscores the age-old exploitation and feeble compromise of American sports (and sports movies by extension). This is where “High Flying Bird” finds its depth, sewing renewed faith in Black liberation beneath a chatty corporate gambit. For his part, Steven Soderbergh harmonizes daringly with McCraney’s words, as the director’s iPhone cinematography creates an insurrectionary informality in the halls of power. Even if the world didn’t quake with this gutsy critique of the ostensibly progressive NBA, wait for the next labor dispute between owners (“I love the Lord…”) and players, and check on this mustard seed again. – Chance Solem-Pfeifer
19. “Luce”
Depicting racial strife in the United States is no easy task, and portraying this subject correctly—in a manner that cherishes empathy, but restrains itself to factual information nonetheless—is nearly impossible. And yet, “Luce,” the unsung masterpiece of 2019, leaps over every anticipated hurdle in its path with style and precision before arriving at a morally ambiguous conclusion that will leave you broken for days after the credits roll. Julius Onah’s psychological drama carries itself with an icily fierce countenance, filled with social commentary and well-defined characters (Onah and J.C. Lee’s screenplay is immaculate), both of which are beautifully enhanced by pitch-perfect performances from Naomi Watts, Octavia Spencer, Tim Roth and particularly Kelvin Harrison Jr. Regardless of where you fall on the racial spectrum, “Luce” deserves your attention. – Jonathan Christian
18. “Her Smell”
Gen-X rocker Becky Something isn’t just the center of her own world but a planet in her own right, keeping her impossibly patient family and friends forever in orbit with her endless cries for attention. As Becky stumbles between rooms, spraying her well-meaning associates with bile and resentment, Alex Ross Perry’s “Her Smell” remains anxiously in thrall to its lead’s volatile impulses, shooting each backstage rampage like a Gaspar Noé fever dream. Practically the whole film is an extension of Elisabeth Moss’ erratic performance, which presents Becky’s rock star persona as the armor of an insecure narcissist seeking validation from the roar of the crowd. It’s only when the inevitable crash comes and the façade finally drops, however, that “Her Smell” manifests as a life-affirming tribute to the people who see us for who we really are and choose to stick around regardless. – David Pountain
17. “Us”
For some, Jordan Peele‘s “Us” suffered from “difficult second album” syndrome. Armed with a bigger budget, more resources, and a larger canvas, he crafted something that was grander but, detractors claimed, lacked the cultural specificity and narrative tightness of “Get Out.” And, to be sure, “Us” is definitely messier and more abstract, but with those extra resources, he crafted something more ambitious and outrageous — and, we would argue, just as relevant. Led by a never-better Lupita Nyong’o in dual roles (suburban wife and mother Adelaide and her vicious, scratchy-voiced underground doppelganger Red), Peele conjures a nightmarish universe out of a family vacation to the beach that says provocative things about immigration, race, and how our country was founded and continues to run (as many have pointed out, “Us” = United States). But he houses these subversive elements in an even more muscular, poppy horror thrill ride, making “Us” a titanic accomplishment: the perfect distillation of Peele’s parallel loves of barbed social commentary and old episodes of “The Twilight Zone.” – Drew Taylor
16. “Little Women”
There have been just shy of 10 big-screen adaptations of Louisa May Alcott’s coming-of-age story about four sisters in post-Civil War Massachusetts – but under Greta Gerwig’s razor-sharp eye it feels brand new. Despite the seemingly “safe” material, it’s an audacious step after her debut, the tenderly introspective “Lady Bird.” Gerwig clearly knows and loves the book, which is why she is in the best position to rip out all the pages and put it back together in her own way. Her “Little Women” is familiar but fresh, bursting with hope and optimism without ever losing poignancy. It helps that her cast is the stuff of dreams: Saoirse Ronan is Jo March, Timothée Chalamet finds his most perfectly complex role to date as Laurie Laurence and Florence Pugh makes it finally not just possible but utterly necessary to, well, actually like Amy March. Emma Watson also proves her chops, Eliza Scanlen keeps going from strength to strength, and Laura Dern calms the catty and humorous “Big Little Lies” veneer as a beautifully soft Marmee. A top-to-bottom delight. – Ella Kemp