10. “La La Land”
Contrary to the embittered backlash-y conversation, “La La Land” doesn’t have to be a certifiable masterpiece to still soar. It’s a magical, enchanting musical about the joys, heartaches and compromises made to achieve one’s dreams within a starry-eyed city. “La La Land” has elements that are masterful: its candy coated emotional expressionism; the infinitely charming Emma Stone; the lithe, dazzling filmmaking and its show stopping tunes. Shot in glittery “Cinemascope” (not really), ambitious director Damian Chazzelle is proving to be the most talented new helmer working today. And of course, it features irresistibly catchy and wistful songs about hopes and desires. “La La Land” is a movie you fall head over heels for and while I wasn’t as bowled over as some critics (which is ok), its achingly bittersweet ending about choices and time nearly makes up for any little quibbles along the way. [Review]
9. “One More Time With Feeling”
Nick Cave suffered a catastrophic blow in 2015. His 15-year-old son fell to his death in a drug related accident and the undertow of tragedy nearly pulled him irretrievably into the darkness. Cave coped by recording his (extraordinary) new album Skeleton Tree (prophetically written before the heart-rending calamity) and rather than having to writhe uncomfortably through a press tour about the LP, Cave and his snake skinned band The Bad Seeds, decided to produce a documentary about the making of the record, and they called upon a friend — Andrew Dominik who employed the Cave and Warren Ellis score to “The Assassination Of Jesse James…” to dolorous effect. A mournful pall hangs over ‘OMTWF,’ it’s almost unbearable to sit with at times, the ache and sorrow coming out of artists too dignified to cry, but too wounded to hide their anguish. Shot in haunting black and white (optimally in 3D for those lucky enough to catch it in that format), Dominik puts an attentive lens on Cave’s melancholy and the grief-stricken creation of this album. Cathedral-esque in tenor, the filmmaker creates a church wherein Cave and allies can howl freeform at the banshees of pain. An elegiac paean to loss and the glimmers of life that still burn like embers, “One More Time With Feeling” may despair at times, but its beautiful requiem for the fallen is worthy of worship. [Review]
8. “American Honey”
In “American Honey,” filmmaker Andrea Arnold catches lightning in a bottle. She’s a storm chaser who’s found a woozy, ecstatic truth. Bathed in a sun stroked glow, the crackling vitality of “American Honey” shines a light on coming-of-age angst with captivating intensity. An exhilarating travelogue through the rootless and poor underbelly of white trashy middle America and the castaway kids and hustlers who inhabit it, the intuitive picture explores dreamers, orphans and improvised families with an authentic documentary-like, in-the-moment realism. But it’s stylish and raw — an intimate, Cassavetes-esque in-your-face camera bobs and weaves, gifting the movie with red-blooded adrenaline. Shia LaBeouf is more than willing as a rat-tailed grifter, but it’s the untrained shining diamond Sasha Lane that provides the movie with its flashbulb rapture. Musically vibrant and pulsing with an electrical current, “American Honey” crackles with a sonic youthfulness and the euphoria of finding love in a hopeless place. [Review]
7. “Jackie”
It speaks to the sizable talents of Pablo Larrain, one of the greatest contemporary filmmakers working today, that the Chilean helmer not only directed three films in 2016, he painted three distinctly different ones, all featuring diverse shades of asymmetric identity. “The Club,” a caustic meditation on mercy came first, then the slippery and playful, “Neruda” and lastly, his finest work of the year, the mesmeric “Jackie.” Eschewing traditional biopic beats, save a framing device that still speaks to its refracting themes of private and public masks, “Jackie” stands on its side thanks to the inspired use of Mica Levi’s destabilizing score — one that Larrain cuts into the elegiac film in unintended places just enough to throw the viewer off center. Larrain’s disorienting deconstruction of myth-making features an elusive, but outstanding star turn by Natalie Portman as Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. Portman plays the first lady, as an in-the-moment PTSD victim; traumatized by the death of her husband, and horrified by the way the world and powers that be immediately move on. But there are several Jackies to choose from. A mirror-cracking look at façade and persona, Portman plays with dignity, superficial presentation, evasive maneuvers and brave faces while wearing elegant or blood-splattered dresses. It’s as if Larrain doesn’t want you to know who Jackie is, but her protective disguises only conceal so much and its astonishing 16mm gaze shatters the glass regardless. It’s a tremendous stunner; a multi-leveled and complex portrait of a woman struggling to preserve a legacy in the face of unbearable tragedy while veiling truths in favor of printing the legend. [Review]
6. “Moonlight”
Perhaps when images and feelings lay dormant in your mind for long gestation periods they eventually transform into something mystic, because what else explains Barry Jenkins’ magical “Moonlight”? “Medicine For Melancholy” was a promising little indie, but eight years later, nothing can prepare you for the disarming brilliance of “Moonlight” and the acceleration of his filmmaking talents. Who we are in the world, where do we fit and whose skin are we living in exactly? Questions of identity swirl around Jenkins’ balmy, beautiful triptych about an introverted, gay, black boy, teenager and then adult struggling to discover himself, his sexuality, and where he belongs. Featuring three amazing performances by three actors in formative life stages, (plus a show stopping Naomi Harris), what defines them is their isolating loneliness, their timorous uncertainty and the need for a little love and compassion. Emotionally insightful, Jenkins’ movie courses with deep wells of empathy. It all crests with the grown-up man who fronts hard, but heartbreakingly insulates himself from the world in denial. “Moonlight” is porous; the swelter and cool winds of Miami shimmer through the screen and the immersion of its rapturous feelings overwhelm. Like its humid Miami weather and the twilight that marks some of its glowing scenes, “Moonlight” casts shadows over the heart while its soft waves envelope the senses. [Review]
5. “Manchester By The Sea”
If I had to determine my number one film solely based on the measure of emotional devastation, the pick would easily be Kenneth Lonergan’s heart wrenching, humanist drama. In “Manchester By The Sea,” a broken Casey Affleck is ravaged by tragedy, wrought with trauma — he’s always living life at half-mast. And yet through fate, the already ill-equipped uncle is forced to act as his nephew’s guardian following the untimely death of his brother and return to the scene of his greatest pains and failures. It’s impossible not to empathize and it’s a stunning, achingly textured performance by Affleck, but a stoic one that never invites pity. Lonergan’s solemn drama also resists the temptation to simply play the sad bastard card. Full of unexpected riches, including a beautifully operatic score that lends the movie a woeful, but elegant tenor, ‘Manchester’ is startlingly funny in places too — the storyteller sensible enough to understand life doesn’t break for tragedies and cruel ironies don’t yield to suffering. ‘Manchester’ provides no easy answers for its protagonist, suggesting sometimes we carry on despite wounds that never heal. In this case, it’s the burden of living with a gaping hole in your heart while the gulls around the bay no longer sing. [Review]
4. “Elle”
In some circles, it’s very unpopular, very frowned-upon for a man to love every inch of the problematic, distasteful minefield that is “Elle,” (ok, minus the brutal beginning), but I’ll just quote the always-unassailable A.O. Scott who nailed it by describing Paul Verhoeven’s latest offensive, thorny provocation [paraphrasing from poor memory] as “deliciously perverse” or “delightfully wicked.” I can’t remember which, but both apply. The audacity to create a rape revenge drama that’s also a very twisted, pitch-black comedy is a misguided line no one would dare to walk today, but the bold, unflinching Verhoeven — back at the top of his game again — has always possessed an unusually high level of temerity (having foreign and foreign sensibilities certainly helps). A fearless Isabelle Huppert is just masterful in the multifaceted role of prey that refuses to be victim, yet owns her complex and ambiguous desires even as the game of control and power she plays spins out of control. Through her indestructible facade, sense of droll humor and deep-seated sense of curiosity, she flips the tables and the movie on its back. Uncomfortably satirical, “Elle” is easy to loathe or love; like it or not Verhoeven’s picture is an empowering (and darkly funny) portrait of an implacable woman not to be fucked with. [Review]
3. “Toni Erdmann”
Super heroes come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes they even arrive wearing bad wigs, barring gaudy fake teeth and sporting tacky suit jackets. The eccentric father of “Toni Erdmann” isn’t a traditional hero per se, but he does appear out of nowhere to rescue his tightly-wound daughter from her soul-crushingly dull power-point presentation existence. Beautifully absurd or excruciatingly beautiful, I giddily cackled along with Maren Ade’s hysterical third feature. Centering on Ines, a careerist woman (a totally game Sandra Hüller) and her prankster-happy and estranged father, Winfried (a brilliant Peter Simonischek), ‘Erdmann’ begins with a surprise visit from dad who barges into her life after his dog suddenly dies. However, after the unplanned stay (guests, like fish, begin to stink on the third day), her bizarre dad with his penchant for juvenile, whoopee-cushion gags, decides to stay put under the not-so-convincing disguise and alter-ego of ‘Toni Erdmann,’ a German chancellor or some such fabulism that sticks around like glue underfoot. What unfolds is an offbeat, hilariously awkward, but luminous portrait of family, all its cracks and deficiencies with the background of dysfunctional, disconnected global economics simmering artfully in the background. Daringly peculiar, “Toni Erdmann” also serves as a tender, albeit very unusual examination of the special bonds between self-reliant children and their goofy parents. A movie about fathers and daughters, their divisions and similarities, while Ines tries to avoid salvation as “Toni Erdmann” contemplates familial denial and distance the comedy also acts as a sweet, protective and odd coming-to-terms tribute to weird old dad. [Review]
2. “20th Century Women”
Tender storyteller Mike Mills can’t help but take the deeply personal, make it intimate and then transform it into something beautifully perceptive and universal. Mills’ sensitively-attuned antennas always pick up the minutest of nuanced feelings; it’s in his DNA, he couldn’t deny it if he tried. The considerate filmmaker has already composed the melancholy, but lovely drama about his dying father’s late-in-life coming out (the severely underrated “Beginners”) and his latest splendid effort explores the life of his unconventional, mysterious and complicated mother — an emotionally elusive person he struggled to understand. “20th Century Women” is perhaps an investigation where he works it all out. As a personal therapy, on the couch, laying back, his art school sensibilities in tow, Mills creates a fabulously shimmering and alive picture about mothers, sons, and makeshift families through the prism of an evocative ‘70s California; an era he teleports into with ease. Everything about “20th Century Women” feels authentic, from its wonderful performances (collectively outstanding, but Annette Benning and Greta Gerwig are fantastic highlights), its earnest, careworn feeling and even its kaleidoscopic pop-art explosions. Mills’ heartfelt drama asks us to consider who we are: sometimes punks, sometimes “art fags” (the latter all the way), always vulnerable, always human, always expressed through the pulse of a lively and jittery beat. Delivered with stacks of emotional texture — laughter, sadness, confusion, ache — cotton-pilled, laminated T-shirt, Betamax-streaked aesthetics and just layer upon layer of full-blooded empathy, no other movie of 2016 felt so iridescent with its compassion and truthfulness. It’s a marvelous coming of age tale about a wise ol’ woman and the warmest movie about an inscrutable matriarch that you’ll never know. [Review]
1. “Arrival”
There was no clearer reflection of this self-serving and troubling year where tolerance and decency seemed to disintegrate, than Denis Villeneuve’s glistening and gauzy “Arrival.” Alien immigrants come to earth attempting to bear gifts and they are immediately treated with distrust and paranoiac fear. And rather than band with hope and unity, self-interest, panic and unfit, self-seeking leadership threaten to unravel the planet. And so, it’s nothing short of a miracle that Villeneuve and screenwriter Eric Heisserer, could craft a movie, both intimate and grand in scale, about communication. Not about the desire for human, or extraterrestrial connection per se, though that’s obviously an elemental theme, but the literal nuts and bolts of language, could you — or better yet, a studio head — ever imagine composing a cerebral drama about a linguist trying to teach alien heptapods their ABCs? “Arrivals” vernacular possesses voluminous marvels; its elliptical syntax and emotional intelligence, its quietly commanding star (a brilliant Amy Adams), its exacting camerawork (Bradford Young), its human texture and its ability to apply head swirling ideas of time and death and transform them into something profound and poignant. To borrow a sentiment from our Jessica Kiang, Villeneuve’s thoughtful and haunting drama is the one Christopher Nolan had hoped to form with “Interstellar,” but “Arrival” actually sticks the heady landing. Unspooling like prose, like a symphony in its gleaming final moments, “Arrival” asks that rather than build barriers, we tear them down, look to the stars and, without fear, exchange ideas with the cosmos. [Review]
Honorable Mentions next:
Leftover Detritus, for the advanced reader only (the one brave enough to go this far).
Honorable Mention: Ten films I adored that didn’t make the cut included in order are (21-30— wait, seriously??): the charming and delightful “Hunt For the Wilderpeople” (Ricky Baker being one of the best characters of 2016; Sam Neill never better; Taika Waititi one of the best comedians working today), “De Palma” (just let the master do all the talking); “Weiner” (a raging narcissistic sociopath, but a charismatic politician on the right side of things and pulls off the unimaginable feat of making you (sort of) empathize with him despite his fucked-upness); “Kicks” (hip-hop sensibilities meets, Sofia Coppola-like dreaminess and the announcement of a compelling new director); the terrifically humane rotoscoped documentary “The Tower”; Jeremy Saulnier’s visceral, stress-inducing “Green Room”; the scuzzy/beautiful “Kids”- like “White Girl” with an astonishing turn by the all-grown-up Morgan Saylor (the kid from “Homeland”); Ava DuVernay’s “13th” (one of the most searing documentaries of the year); “O.J. Made In America” (sprawling and engrossing look at America through the lens of a fallen superstar) and “Newtown” (about the school town shooting, a documentary that ripped my heart out).
Props to “Don’t Breathe,” a horror thriller that was way better than I ever could have expected and another kind of oh-my-god, freakshow, “Tickled,” was a gas. More films worth a shout out: The water-logged horror, “Evolution,” the tenderhearted “Pete’s Dragon” (great soundtrack), the awesome South Korean zombie/horror “Train To Busan,” the mostly-excellent “The Wailing” (that just went on for too long), the funny and charming “Maggie’s Plan,” the neo Western “Hell Or High Water,” Ira Sachs‘ endearing “Little Men,” and the uneven, but I suspect-will-get-multiple-rewatches baffler “Hail Caesar” by the Coen Brothers. And don’t let me forget my love for the heartening and triumphant “Zootopia,” easily the best mainstream animated film of the year. Yes, I must mention these films, because they were all so damn good, sorry. In case you’re interested, here’s the Playlist group’s collective top 25 picks (though made through voting rather than communal consensus).
Television: It’s hard to get inside and unpack “Atlanta,” it’s so insightful, weird, and surreal all at once; definite stoner sensibilities going on within its urban hip hop flecked milieu. It’s perhaps a little “Louie”-eque, though set in Atlanta with a can’t-get-his-shit-together 30-something (Donald Glover), trying to juggle weed, baby mamas and getting his hustle on, but that doesn’t even do it justice. Hoover up the deadpan brilliance of this show now. “Stranger Things” was far from perfect, but it’s the very-watchable and digestible kind of binge-watching TV that is going to keep audiences at home rather than in the theaters — a somewhat troubling conversation for another day. “Transparent” was engaging and yet somewhat disappointing this season. Abysmal: Diversity on screen is always a big victory, but the empty, texture-less “Luke Cage” was awwwful. Easily the worst show I suffered through all year. Then again, Marvel TV generally stinks.
Guilty Pleasure: “Now You See Me 2” which is terrible, but also awesome, but also horrifyingly bad.
Hands Down Worst Actor Of 2017: Jesse Eisenberg, I love you, and you can be a exceptional, one of the best actors of your generation, but holy shit, you were so godawful in “Batman V Superman” and arguably worse in “Now You See Me 2” (god, I can’t wait for the sequel).
Huge Disappointment: Love the Seth Rogen crew, but “Sausage Party” was ungood.
I Am A Cold, Unfeeling Bastard: “Finding Dory” perturbed me to no end given that the film was centered on the premise that its main protagonist was a huge imbecile. OK, that character was just short-term-memory-challenged, but I became exasperated with her ineptitude and how the filmmakers exploited her memory loss to complicate the plot.
Too Cold and Distant For My Heart: I admire you Marty, but “Silence” didn’t really do it for me. I’d take “Kundun” over it any day.
The Film That Could Have Been In My Top 5 That Never Was: “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.” I’m a closet “Star Wars” fan, the original trilogy meant everything to my childhood. But as an adult who has kind of outgrown them, I’ve yearned for a “Star Wars” film for grown-ups that really addressed the meaning of the costs of war (those that mocked the Vox headline have zero idea of what they speak of). In other words, “Rogue One” was made almost specifically for me. The “Star Wars” spin-off featured many compelling elements; its themes of sacrifice, scrappy unity and its grown-up texture about regret, rebellions, extremists and more. But it was not to be for me; too narratively splintered and fragmented to fully absorb. I’m dying to read the one-day-they’ll-tell-it-story about how the production started over with crucial parts of the narrative after they began filming. They once said 40% of the movie was reshot, and I 500% believe it.
Best Superhero Movie Of The Year: Hands down the excellent “Captain America: Civil War” which employed super hero fisticuffs and antics to Trojan-Horse-disguise a movie about comrades and bonds of brotherhoods broken in the name of convictions and ideologies. No one died or needed too; a confederacy and a deep-rooted kinship were at stake.
Worst Superhero Movie Of The Year: A consensus seems to have formed that “Suicide Squad” was worse than “Batman v Superman.” Make no mistake, the David Ayer-directed villains-starring team up film was awful, but compared to the flagrant narrative incoherence of Zack Snyder’s wild debacle, it was Shakespeare. It’s shocking to hear that Warner Bros. thought they had a good movie on their hands and that actors like Ben Affleck were pleased with the drama until critics (rightly) trashed it. Please note for the peanut gallery crowd, this is not my bias against these films. It is my personal opinion that I do not like these films. They do not work for me at all.
Worst Franchise Faceplant: Warner Bros. and their DCEU. Don’t let any fanboy point to the box office and say negative buzz didn’t matter. WB were embarrassed this year in the industry and are still stinging from it.
Uncredited Director Of The Year: Tony Gilroy
One Of The Worst Movies Of The Year Many People Are Too Polite To Label As Such: Paul Feig’s “Ghostbusters.”
Solid Pictures Arriving in 2017: James Gray’s “The Lost City Of Z” and the polarizing, but underrated “Personal Shopper” by Olivier Assayas.
I think I’ve got it all out of my system. Goodnight, Godspeed and if we’re lucky, God willing (no Trump whammies, please), see you at the end of the year.
