For what it’s worth, I subscribe to the Guillermo del Toro school of my relationship to film (see below). I prefer “favorites” over “best” for year-end lists, and that includes warts and all blemishes that make movies feel real and human to me. I also can’t really speak to the subjectivity of “best” per se because opinions are like assholes and everyone’s got one, but I know what moved and stayed with me.
READ MORE: Check Out All OF Our Best Of 2015 Coverage Here
I haven’t written a best-of year-end list for two years running now (here’s my 2012 list) because I’m usually spiritually drained and feeling a little mentally challenged by year’s end, after all our exhausting Best Of Year coverage. The same is true for 2015, which is why I’m probably the last person to write my list. However, I’ve decided to forge ahead despite feeling that I don’t really have anything valuable to say. As usual, trying to rank art is a fool’s errand, but hey, it’s what we all do, so let’s just get on with it. The resolute formula for me is always experience and resonance, but with a bend towards that echo: a movie not only has to make a big impact in the moment, but it has to have a long-tail enduring quality, and if it doesn’t stick with much deep resonance in the heart, mind, and soul, there’s probably a reason for that. 2015 had plenty of riches. This is what stuck with me the most, bearing in mind that most top 10 (or 20 lists can change on any given day. And yes, I’ve seen “The Lobster,” thank you for asking, but I stick to 2015 release date rules only.
TIE 20. “Wild Tales”
The timing of Damian Szifron’s “Wild Tales” was a bit unfortunate. Most saw it long ago in 2014, but its official North American release was just this spring, so the film’s been largely forgotten, sadly. But man, it is a hell of a debut and a hilarious, pitch-black examination of retribution, rage, frustration, and the incensed impulses that drive our sense of fairness and justice that is just dripping with delicious irony (cut up in six different vignettes, one of the better one-director omnibus films). If you’ve ever experienced road rage, been outraged by the inconsideration or discourtesy of your fellow man, or cackled with insane frustration at a day full of the shittiest luck ever, this movie is built for you. [Oli’s review from Cannes]
TIE 20. “Mad Max: Fury Road”
I certainly have plenty of issues with “Mad Max: Fury Road.” The protagonist of the movie is its weakest character and Furiosa is actually who I’d love to follow in a sequel (or at least have them both together again), its early flashbacks to Max’s pre-apocalypse life are a bit inelegant, the Xtreme Sports score is a bit much, and while there’s little dialogue in the film, when people open their mouths, it can be kind of clunky (see the on-the-nose scene about “looking for hope and redemption”). Still, the layering of culture in George Miller’s run-and-gun action opus and how it’s presented—at a blazing and unrelenting 500mph—is both rich and inventive. ‘Fury Road’ is essentially a breakneck chase movie, but one where you learn about the characters—their motivations, their fears, and dreams and the highly detailed societal norms of warlord Immortan Joe’s cult following— while the movie barrels forward. Hierarchy is quickly established, including barbarically pragmatic roles for women, slang is dropped yet never elucidated, martyrdom mythologies are gleaned, and the way this civilization functions is inferred along the way, but never actively explained. Plus, of course, it’s a visceral firecracker of “holy shit!” ferocity, stunts, and I-cannot-believe-they-pulled-that-off dynamism. Come for the blistering, full-tilt action, stay for the thought-provoking consideration of the post-apocalypse. Witness me, indeed. [My review]
19. “Queen Of Earth”
The rise and evolution of indie filmmaker Alex Ross Perry has been exciting stuff. ARP always showed promise; he’s a fierce writer, but when great, professional actors joined the fray, they made his material really sing. “Listen Up Philip” was a fantastic riff on gifted literati like Philip Roth, Woody Allen, and Noah Baumbach, and their acerbic characters. However, for his follow-up to that critically acclaimed effort, Perry zagged left when some might have expected him to zig right. His poisonous, but twisted, “Queen Of Earth,” a kind of claustrophobic psychodrama homage to Roman Polanski and Robert Altman films like “Images” or “Three Women,” and akin to Woody Allen following up “Annie Hall” with “Interiors.” It’s a bold move to follow a celebrated comedy with something darker, more cerebral, and this psychologically agitated. Set in a deceptively tranquil upstate lake house, Elisabeth Moss and Katherine Waterston (one to watch in 2016 and soon to be a huge star) deliver tremendous performances as two BFFs whose fragile relationship begins to aggressively metastasize over the course of a weekend, while the already delicate party (Moss) begins to mentally unravel. “Queen Of Earth” and its examination of narcissism and privilege is also deliciously arch and acidly funny; Perry’s playfulness with hysterical tone and point of view is impressive stuff. There’s a tart aftertaste to this melodrama, but it’s mischievous, wry, and haunting. I can’t wait to see what he does next. [My review from Berlin]
18. “Entertainment”
Road movies are almost always about the journey of self-discovery. Rick Alverson’s dark, twisted, angry, and hilarious “Entertainment” completely deconstructs that paradigm with a bleak and humorous tale about a directionless and alienated comedian (Gregg Turkington) who becomes so lost on his voyage that he essentially disintegrates into the abyss by the end. It’s extremely misanthropic and provocative, but man, does it feature some deeply fucked up laughs. Ultimately, a scathing social critique about our accelerated, empty culture and the deep disaffection and disillusionment it engenders, some critic I can’t remember called it (to paraphrase from memory) a caustic existential howl into the nothingness and that nails it. [My review from Sundance]
17. “Love”
Talk about imperfect, Gaspar Noé’s provocative 3D sex film is it, but there’s something in its low-lit wistfulness that lingers. It includes cameos by the director, characters named after him, and other seemingly narcissistic elements (though I think they’re more tongue-in-cheek than many give them credit for), but beneath the layers of its provocation — stereoscopic jizz, ejaculating dicks, bouncing boobs, and incessant fucking — is a genuine and melancholy story about loss. It’s essentially a wistful, rainy-day reflection on the past filled with bittersweetness and regret, and scored and shot with a genuine empathetic tenderness. Anyone who’s ever loved can relate to its heartache, especially in its melancholic, beautifully shot third act, where the sun goes down on all the painful memories of our mistakes. [Jess’ review from Cannes]
16. “Son Of Saul”
The directorial debut of the year? Hard to say because there were so many fantastic debuts in 2015, but László Nemes’ “Son Of Saul” was an outstanding achievement, albeit a hellish one. There’s little to love about a holocaust movie, and this one, in particular, is essentially like rats running around in the maze of Dante’s “Inferno,” but its impact is undeniable. “Son Of Saul” is literally hell on earth, and it follows an Auschwitz prisoner whose job is to burn the dead. But the mostly-silent man goes on his own nightmarish odyssey when he comes across the body of his dead son and becomes hellbent on finding a rabbi who will help him arrange a proper, but clandestine, burial. Featuring long, horrific takes that weave through the labyrinth of fiery abyss, “Son Of Saul” is an unspeakably harrowing and visceral experience, but at the very least, the searing drama, which burns its mark on your soul, introduces us to a brand new filmmaker who surely has many great things to come. [Oli’s review from Cannes]
15. “Eden”
The “Inside Llewyn Davis” of French House movies, Mia Hansen-Løve’s sprawling two-hour-and-10-minute “Eden,” about the life of a French garage DJ over the course of some 10-odd years, isn’t quite as centered on failure as the Coen Brothers musical masterpiece. Yes, it has great bangers, beats and moments like the formative days of Daft Punk, but it’s a very mature, grown-up piece of work, nostalgically looking back on the halcyon days of being young, the hopes, the promises, and the way your dreams and life’s plans don’t always go the way you hoped. It feels… maybe not worth its exorbitant running time, but upon its melancholic conclusion and reflective look at the salad days, “Eden” reveals itself to be poignant examination of the changing seasons of life; a bittersweet and autumnal look at life lived on the edge of irresponsibility and hedonism and the lost loves that marked the days of our youth. [Nik’s review from TIFF]
14. “Heart Of A Dog”
With pain, suffering, loss, and love comes wisdom, but also a deep curiosity into who we are and what comes next in the next life. Idiosyncratic musician, filmmaker, and spoken word artist Laurie Anderson has already been deeply inquisitive throughout her exploratory artistic career, and with “Heart Of A Dog,” her first feature-length documentary, Anderson uses the death of her dog as a jumping-off point to examine… well, everything. A lyrical essay and a moving meditation on life and death and the moments that define us as people, Anderson contemplates her dog, who he was, and how he lived and saw the world. But in considering that life, she goes far beyond her beloved canine and looks at the world around us, and makes gentle connections about the human condition and the current state of humanity. Her impressionistic thoughts ponder the aftermath of 9/11, both human and political, her half-remembered childhood, and more. In sharing her story, her upbringing, discussing our shared catastrophes and the deaths that have shrouded her life, Anderson illuminates the corners of life with sublime and poignant grace. [Gary’s Telluride review]
13. “Cartel Land”
An extremely layered portrait of the war on drugs, one of the greatest strengths of Matthew Heineman’s engrossing doc — aside from his remarkably intimate, unprecedented access, and its gorgeous visuals — is the manner in which the complexities of the drug war in Mexico are illustrated by the slowly revealing and gradually changing grip the audience has on all the characters’ moralities. Everyone is not who they seem at first; virtuous men are revealed to have dubious motivations, self-righteous soldiers’ bigoted ideals eventually come to light, and valiant folk heroes fighting the good fight betray all goodwill. As the engrossing “Cartel Land” unfolds, it becomes heartbreaking and tragic as self-interest always ends up outweighing the greater good. It’s a shocking and distressing experience to watch the embodiment of hell, paved with good intentions, tile up before our very eyes. [Katie’s review from Sundance]
12. “The Duke Of Burgundy”
Got an underloved genre of cinema? Deconstructionist Peter Strickland will uncover it, love it, and make a delicious feast of outre cinema for you. He tackled Giallo by way of sound mixing for the cineaste lovers’ “Berberian Sound Studio,” and for his latest film, the luxuriously styled “The Duke Of Burgundy,” Strickland looked to shocking ‘60s exotica, lurid ‘70s surrealism, and bizarro horrors, plus the overall worlds of soft-core sexploitation cinema. Channeling an erotic collage of the wonderfully strange and desirous cult films by Jess Franco, Luis Buñuel, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and Robin Hardy’s “Wicker Man,” the sensual and sumptuous ‘Burgundy’ delves into fetishism, voyeurism, and kink via the S&M relationship between two lesbian lovers. Gorgeously baroque in its aesthetic presentation, with a florid and faithful mysterious psyche-folk score, Strickland’s picture is a tactile cinephile’s delight and hypnotic trance for all the senses. [Nik’s review from TIFF]
11. “The Assassin”
A wuxia assassin movie that barely features any martial arts or fighting is perverse, but maybe that’s the mysterious beauty of filmmaker Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s remit. A film that took forever to mount (maybe five years?), while certainly an enigmatically told, maybe even a little confounding — its narrative comes into focus like the pieces of a slow-moving glacier — “The Assassin” was certainly a worthwhile wait that rewards the patient viewer. More tone poem than action film, Hsiao-Hsien’s picture is essentially an arty melodrama about choosing between love or duty — a deeply conflicted assassin falls prey to a crisis of conscience, and it’s loaded with the baggage of personal history. As a punishment for going soft on an early mission, said killer’s (Shu Qi) resolve is put to the test by her master, the one who kidnapped her from her family at an early age. She must kill a man from her past (Chang Chen), but it turns out the military governor is one she was once betrothed to. Now, “The Assassin” isn’t at all this linear or clear; it’s a lyrical, gorgeous to look at, and totally indirect, but as the narrative softly falls into place, one dreams along with the picture. Ravishingly crafted in every aspect, from costume to art direction, style, and aesthetic, “The Assassin” is the rare picture whose contemplative mood and stunning visuals make the experience of drifting through its exquisite clouds more compelling than any story it could dare tell. [Jess’ review from Cannes]
