5. “First Cow”
I can’t stop thinking about that final shot, and about the rich sense of history—and profound loss—that Kelly Reichardt weaves throughout her latest blistering analysis of the myths America tells about itself. Was any movie this year clearer in its depiction of the insidious evils of capitalism, and of the incremental decay of always wanting more? Reichardt transports us to 1820 in the Pacific Northwest, at a time when American settlers were pushing further and further into a lush, verdant country that they were convinced belonged to them. It’s hard to carve out a simple life here, and yet that’s all Otis “Cookie” Figowitz (John Magaro) and Chinese immigrant King-Lu (Orion Lee) want. A small cabin. Enough money to get by. Enough food to eat. It all seems within grasp once King-Lu learns of Cookie’s baking skills, and when they steal enough milk from a local big-wig’s (Toby Jones) cow—the first cow in the settlement—to make biscuits. But that one transgression sets off a series of events that put Cookie and King-Lu in increasingly reckless situations for which they (and in particular, the sensitive Cookie) are thoroughly unsuited. How many lives were lost in the building of this country? How many rich people remained in power because they were able to snuff out the dreams of people poorer and less privileged than them? “First Cow” feels like a cautionary tale, a warning about wanting too much in an unforgiving world, and continues Reichardt’s consideration of lives in the margins of American society. It might be her strongest work yet.
4. “Driveways”
In a year punctuated by a staggering amount of cruelty exhibited by both our government and our fellow citizens, Andrew Ahn’s “Driveways” feels like a glimpse into a different kind of reality, one in which kindness is the purest quality any person can offer to another. Do not mistake “kind” for “fragile,” though; Driveways is populated by characters whose resiliency is unquestionable. What Ahn suggests is that self-sufficiency is not the same as self-fulfillment, and in the friendship he develops between the young Cody (Lucas Jaye) and the older Del (Brian Dennehy), Ahn demonstrates the healing power of companionship. Is every person who is lonely broken? No. But there is joy and satisfaction to be found in sharing a meal, sharing a newspaper, sharing stories, and sharing experiences, and Jaye and Dennehy are fantastic together as two individuals in drastically different chapters of their lives who still find pleasure in each other’s company. “Driveways” chips away at the idea that isolation of any kind, whether in childhood or adulthood, is beneficial, and instead offers a counterpoint: Why not put your trust in others, instead of just yourself? The result is lovely and melancholy in equal measure, and Dennehy’s final performance will warm a part of you that you might have forgotten was there.
3. “Minari”
The Hollywood Foreign Press Association incurred a justified amount of backlash recently by announcing that Lee Isaac Chung’s “Minari” would be categorized as a Best Foreign Language Film candidate for the 2021 Golden Globes, which is a frankly mind-boggling decision when you consider that this movie has one of the most typically American narratives you’ll ever find. “Family moves to the heartland to cultivate a farm and build a new life together” is as straightforward a distillation of the American dream as it gets, and Chung adds beautiful depth and nuance to his semi-autobiographical tale. When patriarch Jacob (a never-better Steven Yeun) relocates his wife Monica (Yeri Han), daughter Anne (Noel Cho), and son David (Alan S. Kim) from California to the Ozarks because he’s convinced that the soil in the latter will help him realize his dreams of growing the next “garden of Eden,” myriad questions of old country vs. new country life arise and threaten to split the family apart. The arrival of Monica’s mother Soonja (Youn Yuh-jung) further crystallizes those differences and complicates the question of whether Jacob is acting for his family or for himself. What is the cost of a new life, in a new place? The film continues a conversation started by films like “The Namesake” and “The Farewell” about first-generation living and about the shifting demands of assimilation, and each member of the ensemble is achingly excellent. Shoving “Minari” in a “foreign” box instead of attempting to understand what the film is saying about the complexities of the American dream is an impressively shortsighted mistake.
2. “Sound of Metal”
If “Lose Yourself” were a cautionary tale instead of a classic hype-up track, “Sound of Metal” would be the manifestation of Eminem’s Oscar-winning song. We’ve become so accustomed to the idea that living in pursuit of your passion is the only way to live that we’re unmoored, practically set adrift, when something changes about ourselves that transforms our self-worth. So it goes with drummer Ruben Stone (Riz Ahmed), who loses his hearing and almost everything else in his life in one fell swoop: his place in the band Blackgammon, his relationship with girlfriend and bandmate Lou (Olivia Cooke), and nearly his sobriety. When Ruben moves into a community for deaf recovering addicts, his understanding of who he is is challenged in practically every way, but “Sound of Metal” never feels grueling, torturous, or tedious. Instead, director Darius Marder accomplishes something similar to what he did with his script for Derek Cianfrance’s “The Place Beyond the Pines”: With Ahmed’s exceptional performance at its center, “Sound of Metal” peels back layers of addictive personality traits, toxic masculinity manifestations, and codependent relationship dynamics to find the core of humanity each person spends their life either emboldening or undermining. What choices hurt us? What choices help us? Ahmed helps us feel the toll of each decision with those hugely expressive eyes and his wiry body, while Paul Raci steals every scene he’s in with his patience and his steadfastness. Those closing minutes will haunt me for a long time.
1. “Saint Frances”
I cannot stop telling people about this movie, which I saw on somewhat of a whim at the SXSW Film Festival last year. It ended up being my favorite of the fest, and remains my favorite of this year, because of its refreshingly realistic depiction of aimless adulthood, its thoughtful questions about motherhood and family, and the unending amount of compassion it offers to each of its characters. Kelly O’Sullivan stars in her own script as 34-year-old Bridget, who is bouncing from job to job and one-night stand to one-night stand in the Chicago suburbs. She approaches nearly every situation with a kind of deadpan bemusement, but the events of one summer—during which she gets an abortion, and also accepts a job nannying a 6-year-old girl—threaten to change that. That’s not to say that “Saint Frances” is predictable; the bond that Bridget creates with her babysitting charge Frances (Ramona Edith-Williams) isn’t exactly what you would expect. There are no sitcom-lite antics here. Rather, what O’Sullivan and director Alex Thompson create is a measured and empathetic portrait of what life can be like once you realize that providing love is just as meaningful as receiving it.