Favorite Films of 2021

I saw far fewer movies than normal last year. I don’t think I even broke one hundred. As a result, I was debating whether I should even bother with a favorites of 2021 list. So, as with all important questions, I took a Twitter poll, and seven people voted that they wanted me to do this. For the sake of those seven, here are the films that impressed and stayed with me the most over the past year.

A lot of things happened last year. I got a new job and moved halfway across the country. I completed by doctorate. Both those things were time consuming and I missed several releases as a result. One of those was Dune; I still haven’t had a chance to catch up with it.

I was going to watch more movies in the first weeks of January, but then I got COVID and had to stay home. I missed Memoria because of that. At least I was able to catch up with a lot of streaming options, and I think I did a pretty decent job of that.

Finally, I’m obligated to note that there were a lot of movie musicals last year. Many of them you will see on the list below. Dear Evan Hansen you will not. And with that, here are my favorite films of 2021.

Good films worth noting (30-21):

Bergman Island, Last Night in Soho, Titane, A Quiet Place: Part II, Spencer, Procession, House of Gucci, Nightmare Alley, Benedetta, Shiva Baby

Honorable Mentions:

20. The Novice (Lauren Hadaway) – A freshman (Isabelle Fuhrman) with a type-A+ work ethic pushes herself to be the best on her college’s rowing team, and a psychological and physical breakdown ensues. More than a mere cautionary tale against perfectionism, the masterful marriage of imagery and sound places the viewer in Alex’s (Fuhrman) mental space, as the relationships she prioritizes come to the forefront of the film.

19. Cruella (Craig Gillespie) – I truly do not understand the hatred this film got. Yes, the premise sounded terrible, but it was from a writer of The Favourite, the director of Lars and the Real Girl, the trailer had major Batman Returns vibes, and it starred two fantastic actresses who delivered delightful scenery chewing performances. It may or may not have been an origin story for the puppy killer Cruella de Vil (although a sequel could easily get Stone’s antihero there), but it was the most fun I had at the movies all of last year.

18. Undine (Christian Petzold) – A beautiful myth and story of sacrifice that suggests the unification of anything always comes at a cost. The reworking of the myth into present day Berlin reminds us the wounds of WWII are still not completely healed, just as the world of the water nymph and the human cannot be completely reconciled.

17. The Mitchells vs. The Machines (Michael Rianda) – A crazy rollercoaster of a film about the importance of family, learning from everyone, and appreciating who we are, even when that makes us “different.” When a robot apocalypse plans to eradicate humankind, the ultimate dysfunctional family all has to learn lessons about their unique gifts to save the world. The premise and execution are bonkers, but Olivia Colman’s evil phone and the unorthodox quality family time make it a joy-filled trip worth taking.

16. Pray Away (Kristine Stolakis) – The testimonies of several survivors of conversion therapy recount their experiences of coming out and reckoning with their sexualities in a culture where it was taken for granted you should “pray away” the gay. The examples of grief and repentance from former conversion therapy leaders at the harm they caused are truly remarkable instances of contrition, and the culmination of the testimonies with a lesbian church wedding shows that true faith and queer acceptance are not opposed to one another.

Runners-up:

15. Summer of Soul (…or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) (Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson) – The 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival was billed as “the Black Woodstock” in an attempt to garner the same coverage and excitement, but America had moved on, and all the footage shot then was forgotten until this past year. Assembling the “lost” footage into a documentary, director Questlove delivers a front-row seat to a first-rate concert of Black musicians, but he also does so much more. Intercutting the archived footage with interviews, he highlights the ways that gospel, jazz, blues, and other Black music has shaped communities, given a voice to the voiceless, and challenged the norms of white America. The concert culminates with a performance by Nina Simone, and her artistry and song choices could not be a more perfect climax.

14. Mass (Fran Kranz) – “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there with them.” The two couples in Mass may not be gathered in Jesus’ name, but they are gathered at an Episcopal church, and they’re gathered for some sort of healing, although none of them know what that looks like. The Mass is a sacrifice, as is this gathering and the memories of the horror that induced it. What’s truly remarkable about Mass is the empathy it engenders for all its characters and the way the catharsis extends not only to them but to the viewer as well. By the time the dismissal happens, the viewer truly understands what it means to go in peace and what cost that entails.

13. Licorice Pizza (Paul Thomas Anderson) – I’ve gone back and forth on this film, but what ultimately won me over is the idea that Gary (Cooper Hoffman) and Alana (Alana Haim) are two stand-ins for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship that’s less than ideal, but still deeply care about the other person. Gary and Alana’s relationship is certainly not ideal, but there’s also a sense of innocence in a world of cynical fakes. And to be sure, no relationship in Licorice Pizza is ideal; perhaps that’s the relationship to the mysterious title. Gary and Alana may be fakes as well, but they’re ones who hustle for each other and others’ happiness and not their own interests.

12. The Tragedy of Macbeth (Joel Coen) – Joel Coen’s first feature without his brother Ethan, this is visually one of his most stunning films. Shot in gorgeous black and white and anchored by two solid performances from Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand, Shakespeare’s tragedy unfolds briskly as Coen trims the play to its most essential lines. It’s not an unorthodox choice for adapting Shakespeare, but it works here, because it matches the tightness of the visual imagery. Stealing the screen is Kathryn Hunter as the three witches, whose appearances to Macbeth perfectly foreshadow his encroaching doom.

11. In the Heights (John M. Chu) – The stroke of genius to this musical adaptation is having Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) tell his story and the story of Washington Heights to a group of children rather than breaking the fourth wall as he did in the stage show. It preserves the story for the next generation, it organically maintains the theatricality of the source material without becoming contrived, and it connects the story across generations as well. The rest of Lin Manuel Miranda’s musical transfers pretty effortlessly to the big screen, with stunning production numbers that celebrate the Dominican Republic, our dreams, our loves, and our vocations.

The Top Ten

10. The Last Duel (Ridley Scott) – Of the two period pieces about the horrors of toxic masculinity and not believing women (this and Benedetta) and of the two Ridley Scott flicks released year, The Last Duel is the one that stood out above both. The Rashomon-style storytelling illuminates the truth and just how much one’s desire to be the hero of their own story can lead to dangerous and harmful assumptions that hurt the most vulnerable, as can be seen from the flawed perspectives that form the first two narratives. When the corrective third narrative occurs, we’re not supposed to believe it just because the protagonist is a woman, but because of the ways her narrative confirms what each man has already told us about himself.  Framing the film is the titular last duel fought in France, reminding us of what it means to live in a world where might makes right.

9. Pig (Michael Sarnoski) – When a radical act of mercy and forgiveness serves as the climax of a film, the love it has for all its characters is apparent. When that act references Babette’s Feast, Chef, and Ratatouille, the love extends not only to the characters but to our enemies, our vocations, and our pets. Pig is a film that defies easy conventional descriptions, but its one constant is the love and mercy that permeates it. Part buddy road trip, part mystery, part comedy, part neo-noir, the blend of styles and genres come together around a fantastic performance from Nicolas Cage, whose commitment to what he loves at any personal sacrifice makes all the genres work. The gradual revelation of the blissful past makes the sins of the present harder to bear, but it also makes the merciful response to them all the more striking.

8. The Card Counter (Paul Schrader) – Our sins have long-lasting consequences. That is the obvious theme of Paul Schrader’s latest thorny story of redemption, and it is one that plays out with nightmares of the past, torture, prison time, mentoring, and card counting. Oscar Isaac gives a career best performance as the gambler William Tell, who appreciates the order of prison life, the security of small stakes card counting, and following orders. However, the guilt of some of those orders leads to an unusual attempt at atonement by helping a kid named Cirk (Tye Sheridan) with the assistance of an investor named La Linda (Tiffany Haddish). Confronting past demons is something Schrader excels at, and an ever-present sense of guilt drives the story to its tragic conclusion perfectly.

7. A Hero (Asghar Farhadi) – One difference between a good movie and a great movie is knowing where and when to point the camera. What makes that distinction for A Hero are the frequent cuts to a child, reminding us that the sins of adults make an impression and have more victims than just the adults. Farhadi knows the tragic nature of his story about a man on leave from debtor’s prison who spins one good deed into an elaborate fabrication of his heroism, and Farhadi also knows that the consequences of such a fabrication can most strongly be shown through the reactions of a child. Rahim (Amir Jadidi) may become the titular hero, but his son’s silent witness to his shortcoming is what most strongly underscore the cruelty of a culture that prizes appearances without second chances.

6. The Lost Daughter (Maggie Gyllenhaal) – Perhaps the greatest collaboration by two actors I’ve ever seen, Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley’s portrayal of one woman at two different points in her life is haunting, beautiful, and seamlessly merged. They are tremendously aided by Maggie Gyllenhaal’s directing, which perfectly times the cuts between past and present, as the memories of the past grow into longer and longer segments. Leda’s choices could easily make her repugnant, but Colman and Buckley show the tortured soul underneath the cruel exterior. The cinematography both captures the beauty of the Greek island and creates an intimacy for a story about broken relationships and missing dolls. The way Gyllenhaal merges the dichotomy captures the tragedy and longing of every child as wel as the toll that takes on every mother.

5. The Power of the Dog (Jane Campion) – An unlikely marriage between a rancher and a widow leads to an unlikely friendship between his brother and her son. The friendship is unlikely, because the coarse, arrogant, bullying demeanor of Phil Burbank (an intimidating Benedict Cumberbatch) is completely at odds with the mild-mannered, effeminate Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). As much a psychological thriller as a western, The Power of the Dog simultaneously shows humankind’s capacity for cruelty and kindness, for holding onto one truth while denying another. Above all, it addresses the importance of mentors and the ways they can shape our lives for good or ill, as each mentee becomes more or less subject to the shadow cast by the power of the dog.

4. Drive My Car (Ryûsuke Hamaguchi) – A sprawling, heartfelt epic about dealing with loss, the pangs of creating art, and the formative relationships that are both positive and toxic. If that makes Drive My Car sound intimidating, it shouldn’t, because each minute of this three-hour movie is a delight from the flawed yet loving marriage of director/actor Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and writer Oto (Reika Kirishima) to the multilingual production of Chekov’s Uncle Vanya that brings together a truly unique ensemble. It would be wrong to single out any relationship without mentioning the others, but the bond that forms between Kafuku and his young driver Mitari (Tôko Miura) turns into an unlikely friendship that reveals the way we grow from all past relationships, even those that were less than ideal.

3. West Side Story (Steven Spielberg) – A near perfect adaptation of a near perfect musical, Spielberg and Tony Kushner’s home run revitalizes West Side Story for a new generation while honoring the greatness of the source material (both Shakespeare and Laurents). The changes work beautifully, the emotional casting choice pays off perfectly, and as Tony and Maria Ansel Elgort and Rachel Zegler have enough chemistry to be believable as the star struck lovers while also being unremarkable enough to blend into their cultures of which they are a product. The tragedy doesn’t just affect them, it affects everyone, as the stellar supporting cast makes clear. (full review)

2. The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson) – On the one hand a parody of the New Yorker, but at the same time a love letter to cinema, magazines, and widening our horizons. The French Dispatch is possibly the most Wes Andersonesque film ever, and its smorgasbord of characters, sets, costumes, and stories revels in Anderson’s typical quirkiness, but it also provides a wider lens for viewing the world and learning about other cultures as each reporter brings their unique voice to each segment. Tying everything together is the joy Anderson finds in his eccentric collection of characters and scenarios—a joy that is refreshing and infectious as Bill Murray’s editor’s love for his titular magazine.

1. Annette (Leos Carax) – Art influences life and life influences art. In other words, our entertainment shapes the way we view the world, and the world shapes the type of entertainment that is made. On its surface, Annette is a toxic love story between offensive comedian Henry McHenry (a terrifying Adam Driver) and world-renowned soprano Ann Desfranoux (a sublime Marion Cotillard). However, this toxic relationship exposes the mechanics behind opera, comedy, and musicals through the simple lyrics, blurring the line between fantasy and reality, and the fame (or infamy) each character achieves.

With each performance within the film, director Leos Carax draws attention to the way the audience reacts and asks what they take away from each character’s performance and persona. On a larger level, as scenes blur from performance to dream to studio, he is asking the same question of the art and performances that we have enjoyed throughout the past couple centuries. How have these art works shaped our own views, and how have our views influenced the art we create? How does our art treat the most vulnerable? Who does our art celebrate? And most strikingly, who does our art give voice to? (full review)

Favorite films of 2020

“For many of my friends, 2019 was a rough year. At the rate 2020 is going, this year may not be better.” I wrote that last January. I’m not sure I have anything to add. I certainly had no idea what 2020 had in store. All I will say is that I am more hopeful for 2021, and I hope to get back to reviewing more this year.

I saw far, far fewer films than I normally do. Therefore, I will not do my usual top 35. Since it was 2020, I decided to list 20 films. I make even less claim that these are the greatest films of last year, partially because of the ones I have yet to see (Minari and Nomadland among others), but also after a year of a pandemic and quarantine, I’m more interested in the films that moved me the most than the ones that are most technically excellent.

Honorable Mentions:

20. On the Rocks (Sofia Coppola) – When Laura (Rashida Jones) starts to think her husband Dean (Marlon Wayans) is acting strangely, she makes the mistake of confiding in her philandering father (Bill Murray) who assumes the worst and tries to convince Laura to join him in an increasingly elaborate spying scheme to prove Dean’s infidelity. Murray is fantastic as the ultimate privileged, rich white man, and his antics are hilarious, but the final act turnaround gives a meaningful perspective about the cost of affairs and broken relationships.

19. Little Fish (Chad Hartigan) – A story of a pandemic that causes people to panic and try foolhardy self-cures might seem painfully potent for 2020. However, the role that memory plays in shaping our view of the world and how we react when we lose that turns this into both a romance and a thriller with surprising poignancy as no one can be sure of what they know, and therefore must cherish what they have even more.

18. Bad Education (Cory Finley) – A true story of student investigate journalism exposing and toppling a school’s administrative system of embezzlement and corruption, except it is told from the point of view of the embezzlers (Allison Janey and Hugh Jackman, both excellent). It’s a fascinating choice, and one that provides an engaging dramatic twist as we slowly realize the corruption of the antihero protagonists who bring about their own downfall.

17. The Truth (Hirokazu Kore-eda) – The truth is subjective. It’s not, but memory is, and memory can change what we believe is true. Or in the case of Fabienne (Catherine Deneuve), whose recently published autobiography upsets her daughter Lumir (Juliette Binoche) with its omissions and falsehoods, the truth is whatever is most convenient for her. The relationship between mother and daughter takes on several dynamics as Lumir’s family visits her mother, grandmother and granddaughter bond, and Fabienne’s latest sci-fi film about motherhood casts new light on her own relationships. Kore-eda’s first European film is as gentle as most of his others while never allowing the characters to escape from the actual truth.

16. Shirley (Josephine Decker) – In some ways a remake of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, this biopic about Shirley Jackson also plays like one of her horror stories. With fantastic performances from Elisabeth Moss and Michael Stuhlbarg, the painful process of creation and the toll it takes on the artist and her subjects is thrilling to behold.

Runners-up:

15. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittman) – The single-take title sequence of this film is probably my favorite scene in any film this year. It’s a moving example of compassion in a horrible situation. The rest of the film is likewise an exercise in compassion as it follows the road trip of two high school girls to procure an abortion. The abortion is a done deal, but the heart of the film is the relationship between the two cousins and their support and love for one another regardless of what decisions they make.

14. Young Ahmed (Jean Pierre & Luc Dardenne) – The dangers of religious fundamentalism and the impressionability of youth are the focus of the latest film from the Dardenne brothers. When Ahmed (Idir Ben Addi) begins learning the Quran from an extremist, the welcoming, charitable faith of his family and teacher starts to repel him. The Dardennes do not soft pedal where the tragedy of that repulsion leads, while always focusing on the loss of childhood innocence as well as true faith being replaced and corrupted by the fundamentalist misinterpretation.

13. Small Axe: Mangrove (Steve McQueen) – In America, we rarely hear about Britain’s civil rights movement, cases of police brutality there, and its own systemic injustice. After making the first movie to dramatize the American slave experience with his best picture winner 12 Years a Slave, Steve McQueen dramatizes the experience of the Black British citizens in the 1960s and ’70s. As the police routinely target the titular restaurant for no reason other than racism, it is impossible not to sympathize with the plight of the owner and the British Black Panthers. The film transitions flawlessly into a courtroom drama, where the challenge to white power by black voices in a society built to silence them can finally be heard.

12. Sound of Metal (Darius Marder) – When punk metal drummer Ruben (Riz Ahmed) begins to lose his hearing, the adjustment he must make to living as a deaf man is one that he resists. His girlfriend and co-performer’s (Olivia Cooke) support give him the courage to start the journey, but accepting his new state of life is much harder. The portrayal of the deaf community is beautiful and affirming, but whether Ruben can come to see that remains as clouded as his hearing.

11. Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart) – Celtic faerie tales clash with English settlers in Tomm Moore’s third animated masterpiece about Irish folklore. As in The Secret of Kells, wall-building authority figures are challenged by the innocence of childhood and the wonder of the supernatural. The marriage of two worlds, wolves and humans, effectively challenges the notion of blindly following orders and acting out of fear as young Robyn (Honor Kneafsey) and her father (Sean Bean) become closer to the wolves they hunt than they could have imagined. The animation is gorgeous, and the mythical world building as timely as ever.

The Top Ten

10. What the Constitution Means to Me (Marielle Heller) – Different perspectives are a recurring theme in many of the movies that meant the most to me this year, and Heidi Schreck’s play recalling her high school debates about the constitution and how she feels about it now provides a perspective that is different than at least half of this country’s. It’s a stirring example of patriotism, showing love for our country and anger at the ways its laws have been abused. In a time when division only seems to be increasing, Heller’s film hopefully shows ways in which we can be united even when we have very different interpretations of the constitution.

9. The Prom (Ryan Murphy) – I think I’m obligated to include one musical in my top ten, and The Prom is the best musical of 2020. Sorry, Hamilton fans. Ryan Murphy’s adaptation of this underdog story is as energetic and heartfelt as it should be. The musical—about a lesbian high schooler whose school board cancels the prom instead of letting her attend and the quartet of down on their luck Broadway actors who decide to make her their cause célèbre—is the epitome of a feel-good story. As my friend Ken Morefield said, it ears every laugh and every tear. Meryl Streep’s narcissistic diva threatens to steal the show, but the music and the story truly make it all about Emma (Jo Ellen Pellman) and how we treat those who are different from us.

8. The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson) – This is Close Encounters of the Third Kind in the style of David Lynch. In other words, it’s precisely the type of film that I love. The atmosphere of mystery, fear, and wonder is pitched perfectly throughout the film. The film is a story of unknown frequencies taking over a switchboard and radio station the night of a high school basketball game, and framing it as a 1950s TV episode adds an Americana element that heightens both the aura and sense of unease as the protagonists try to figure out what is out there beyond them.

7. Yes, God, Yes (Karen Maine) – I don’t think there was any film from last year which hit closer to home than this for me, mostly in a Catholic weekend retreat full of sanctimonious piety. When Catholic high schooler Alice (Natalia Dyer) finds herself on the receiving end of a perverse rumor, the assumptions that follow expose the hypocrisy and shortcomings of an overly-simplistic, fundamentalist approach to religion. While writer/director Karen Maine definitely has something of a legitimate axe to grind against legalistic religious beliefs, her film is hardly anti-religion as Alice learns other ways to follow God than what she’s been taught. (full review)

6. Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (Bill Ross IV & Turner Ross) – One of the two best documentaries of the year, the Ross brothers capture the final night of a closing bar in Las Vegas. As we watch the regular customers shoot the breeze, sing, flirt, dance, drink, and celebrate for the last time at this particular bar, the humanity of each participant always remains forefront, even as the night wears on and the liquor flows more freely. No 2020 film exists more in the moment than this, and that ability to appreciate the present for what it is without romanticizing the past or worrying about an uncertain future is what makes each moment so powerful and memorable.

5. Da 5 Bloods (Spike Lee) – A sprawling Vietnam epic about the trauma of the past never truly being past. That goes not only for the four surviving Vietnam vets and their memories of fighting in the war, but also for America’s history of racism and the discriminatory treatment of black soldiers in the ’60s. As the four surviving bloods reconvene in Vietnam to find a cask of gold they were transporting in the war, the film becomes a tribute to American classics like The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and Apocalypse Now, but it more importantly retells those stories through the experience of its black protagonists. At the heart of the film are the relationships that racism and war have damaged, as evidenced by Chadwick Boseman’s deceased Stormin’ Noman whose memory holds the bloods together from beyond the grave.

4. Dick Johnson Is Dead (Kirsten Johnson) – Kirsten Johnson’s moving tribute to her dying father (Dick Johnson) and cinema itself is easily my favorite documentary of the year. Kirsten admits she is making time capsules to remember her father, but the film also serves as a sharing of careers as she and her father reenact different types of movie deaths and talk about his work as a psychiatrist. The moments of family life are beautifully captured, and it’s nearly impossible not to crave chocolate cake after a birthday scene. Kirsten’s staging a funeral for her still living father may raise some eyebrows, but the communal love and the ways cinema can bring us together and heal us are what tie the proceeding perfectly into the rest of the film.

3. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe) – The very best type of stage adaptation, one that maintains the staginess of its source material while making maximum use of cinematic techniques. Wolfe captures the drama and intensity of August Wilson’s play about what it means to be a black musician in a white man’s world, and the phenomenal cast is more than up for delivering the monologues and increasingly tense exchanges. Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) has reached a level of fame that she is not afraid to use to stand up for herself and others, even if it gets her labeled as “difficult to work with.” A day in a recording session of the titular song reveals not only how much harder a black musician has to work for recognition, but the grueling discouragement the less famous have to endure. It is most noticeable with Levee (Chadwick Boseman), the band’s equally talented but far less famous trumpet player, and how his desires lead him to clash with his fellow musicians instead of the system that refuses to give him a chance.

2. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt) – “The rich exist for the sake of the poor,” said St. John Chrysostom, “but the poor exist for the salvation of the rich.” Watching Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow—a tale of survival and friendship about a pioneer and cook (John Magaro) and the Chinese immigrant (Orion Lee) with whom he sets up an unorthodox business—with that sentiment in mind colors this story of entrepreneurship. The rich man is Toby Jones’ Chief Factor, who owns the only cow in the Oregon settlement. When the two protagonists decide to steal some of its milk to sell miniature cakes what begins as a means of survival becomes an opportunity for greed to set in. The bonds of friendship may transcend material possessions, and at its heart, this film is a beautiful story of friendship as necessary to survival; however, the bondage to capital and to whomever has the most of it haunts not only our protagonists but the world for generations.

1. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Céline Sciamma) – For most critics this was a 2019 film. For me, it was the last film I saw in theaters in 2020 before everything shut down due to COVID. I’m still amazed that I was fortunate enough to see an extraordinary film about art, the creative process, and the ways that art shapes how we view the world. When painter Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is hired to covertly paint a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) in order to secure an arranged marriage that the latter wishes to avoid, what begins as a manipulative and contractual relationship is transformed by the art highlighting the humanity and dignity of both painter and subject. With women having been subjected to male gaze since the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus, the need for feminism in art and any male dominated fields comes to the forefront as different perspectives enrich the way we see the world.

The Red Shoes

Year of release: 1948               Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.     Starring Anton Walbrook, Moira Shearer, and Marius Goring.

Originally published as part of the Arts & Faith top 100.

The most famous line in The Red Shoes is probably an early exchange between Boris Lermontov (Anton Walbrook) and Victoria Page (Moira Shearer). The director of a prestigious ballet company asks the aspiring ballerina why she wants to dance. Her reply: “Why do you want to live?”

The answer impresses Lermontov enough to earn her a small part in the company, but it also reveals the two most important themes of the film—the importance of vocation and the danger of allowing that vocation to become an idol.

Probably one of the least commented on scenes is when aspiring composer Julian Craster (Marius Goring) plays through his rewrite of the titular ballet for Lermontov. At one point, he replaces a pedestrian hymn with a Lutheran chorale. The chorale is Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland (Now come, Savior of the Heathen). It’s a fascinating choice of music to pair with a setting of a Hans Christen Andersen fairy tale, but one that emphasizes the theme of idolizing art and the necessity of salvation from that.

For Vicky and Julian that hope of salvation comes in the form of their love, to the consternation of Lermontov. However, it may not be enough to save them from the slavish devotion to their art that Lermontov expects and requires of everyone in his company. An early dismissal of his prima ballerina because she got married causes the fired dancer to exclaim, “He has no heart.” Ballet for Lermontov is a jealous and merciless god that will allow for no other loves.

Lermontov embodies the red shoes of the titular fairy tale and ballet. As he relates the story of the ballet to Craster, he says with palpable exhilaration, “At the end of the evening she gets tired and wants to go home, but the red shoes are not tired. In fact, the red shoes are never tired…Time rushes by. Love rushes by. Life rushes by. But the red shoes dance on.” When Craster inquires how the story ends, Lermontov nonchalantly says, “In the end, she dies,” as if that’s the natural outcome once someone can no longer create their art.

Obviously, Vicky is the young girl and how her story ends is a fait accompli, foreshadowed through the settings of two of her major interactions with Lermontov and the place where she first meets Julian. Both men represent two vocations, and both of them make one incompatible with the other. That is the tragedy of the film, and it is from that which all the characters need salvation.

In a scene towards the end, there is an acknowledgment of that need for salvation, but it is too little too late. The conflict between the two vocations can be seen in Vicky and Julian’s bedroom. Not only does the allegedly blissfully married couple sleep in separate beds, but the lighting creates a dark chasm between them, showing that need for reconciliation. The scene turns into both of them pursuing their art, making it even clearer that their two loves are too envious to allow a competing force.

Importantly, the film allows the viewer to be swept up in the grandeur of the art and romance, wishing for both to work out with a happy ending, without acknowledging how toxic the idolization of a vocation is. Brian Easdale’s gorgeous score, Robert Helpmann’s stunning choreography, and Moira Shearer’s flawless execution make the ballet of The Red Shoes come alive as it needs to. It indicts the viewer’s own desires, making them culpable for any time they’ve idolized a love of theirs excessively.

The more I think about it, the more perfect that chorale choice is. It matches the perfection of the dancing, the acting, the scoring, the directing, the costume design, and it does so in a way that reminds the viewer that any art or the need to create art cannot be the only reason to live. Art for art’s sake is not necessarily a bad thing, but as beautiful and enriching as great art is, it becomes even greater when it exists for something beyond itself as well. That’s a realization that all the characters eventually have, and it’s one that the final scene hauntingly and tragically depicts.

 

Personal recommendation: A+

Favorite films of 2019

For many of my friends, 2019 was a rough year. At the rate 2020 is going, this year may not be better. For myself, this was one of the most time-consuming years I’ve had in a while, as can probably be seen by the unexpected four-month hiatus I took from writing film reviews.

I saw even fewer films than I normally do, and yet there seem to be fewer that slipped through the cracks this year. I still need to catch up with Pain and Glory and Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but most of the films being placed on other yearend lists I’ve seen.

At the same time, this was one of the richest years movie-wise for this entire decade, with enough great titles to chose from that narrowing my list down to the top twenty was difficult, let alone the top ten.

I have not seen Joker. This review by Andrew Spitznas convinced me I would hate it, but in light of its surprising 11 Oscar nominations, I will make time for it, and I will keep an open mind. This essay gives me some hope it might have something of value. Regardless of how I end up feeling about it, nothing I have heard makes me think it would be in contention for the list below. You are welcome to tell me how wrong I am or how excellent my instincts are.

I have been informed that Joker features a performance of a Sondheim song, which makes it one of at least three films this year to do so. The other two made my top ten, but I still doubt Joker is on par with them.

One thing that strikes me looking over all thirty-five titles below is how many of them relate to one another. Two films about the importance of sisterhood made the top ten. There are two comedies with strong political overtones, two films about the evil of money, two films about the horrors of British imperialism, two films about opposing the Nazis, two films about people close enough to one another to drive each other insane, and two films in black and white.

The calls below are mine, and I make no claims that these are the best films from last year. Indeed, there is more than one choice that I’m sure will leave people scratching their heads. However, these are the ones that meant the most to me, and I make no apologies.

Good Films Worth Noting (35-21):

A Hidden Life, Peterloo, Transit, Ad Astra, Once Upon a Time … In Hollywood, Rocketman, Dark Waters, Burning Cane, Diane, The Report, Everybody Knows, High Life, Non-Fiction, For Sama, Waves

Honorable Mentions:

20. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (Marielle Heller) – Casting Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers was a stroke of genius, but Marielle Heller’s decision to frame the entire film as an extended episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was an ever greater stroke of genius, allowing Rogers (Hanks) to address the audience directly asking them “What do you do with the mad that you feel?”

19. Amazing Grace (Sydney Pollack & Alan Elliott) – A front row seat to watch Aretha Franklin perform is a great thing. A front row seat to watch her work with her band and choir over a two-night recording session is transcendent. Filmed in 1972, and only being released now, Amazing Grace is a testament to the power of Franklin’s music and her use of her talent for the glory of God.

18. Apollo 11 (Todd Douglas Miller) – For anyone who was not alive for the original moon landing, this documentary recreates the excitement and awe with visuals and sound that place the viewer right alongside the NASA scientists and more stunningly the astronauts taking the first steps on the moon.

17. Light from Light (Paul Harrill) – A modern day ghost story starring Marin Ireland and Jim Gaffigan beautifully and sensitively explores the human need for connection—both physical and spiritual—as a single mother investigates whether a recent widower is receiving communications from his late wife.

16. The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers) – Eggers’ follow up to The Witch is a Lynchian nightmare in the middle of the sea. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe play two men assigned to keep the titular lighthouse, but mermaids, gulls, and their own paranoias being to drive them insane. It’s a descent into madness and warning of the dangers of obsession, but a breathtaking and stunning one to behold.

Runners-up:

15. The Nightingale (Jennifer Kent) – On the one hand, this is a brutal story bluntly stating that colonialism is horrible and screwed over women, immigrants, and people of color. At the same time, it’s a brilliant frustration of the rape-revenge narrative, showing how futile violence is, especially in a world run by and for the most powerful. Kent subjects the audience to horrors that surpass her debut film, The Babadook, but she celebrates solidarity between victims of different backgrounds and shows the true cost and goodness of progress in a way that prevents this from becoming gratuitous or exploitative.

14. One Child Nation (Nanfu Wang & Lynn Zhang) – A sobering documentary about the horrific effects of China’s one child policy and the unwitting accomplices to that policy around the world. In tracing her own childhood co-director Nanfu Wang reveals the horrors and abuse against women, children, and families that stemmed from blindly following orders and a nation’s desire to put profits ahead of people. As a stark contrast to the subject matter, the beauty of children and celebration of life remind the audience and the directors what China stole from its citizens. Most striking is witnessing Wang’s own journey as she cross-examines the propaganda she was taught throughout her childhood.

13. Missing Link (Chris Butler) – After several weaker entries, Laika studios have returned to the top of their game, or at least very close to it, with this Jules Verne-ian tale about Sir Lionel Frost (Hugh Jackman), an arrogant British explorer who goes to America to prove the existence of the Sasquatch (Zach Galifianakis). As with Laika’s previous films, wokeness forms an inherent part of the plot, but here it’s not tacked on as gratuitous moralizing, instead being an integral part of the story. The visuals are as stunning as ever, and the labor of love about leaving old dreams behind for newer and better ones and overcoming prejudice is as timely as ever. Best of all it eschews many of the cliches that have plagued family films of late. (full review)

12. Shadow (Zhang Yimou) – Political intrigue, double crossing, honor, and exquisite martial arts all take center stage in this story of an elaborate coup between opposing kingdoms in ancient China as one king’s desire to honor a peace treaty clashes with his general’s desire to avenge his honor. Yimou’s choreography of the martial arts is some of his most stunning work ever, and the black and white cinematography heightens the looming tragedy and breakdown of trust and relationships in games of political intrigue, in which everyone puts their own interests first, even if it seems otherwise.

11. They Shall Not Grow Old (Peter Jackson) – If anyone ever wanted to imagine what it would have been like to live through a battle in a WWI trench, Peter Jackson manages to place them there with They Shall Not Grow Old, a documentary constructed from WWI footage and letters from the trenches. It’s a stunning technical achievement that rivals Jackson’s groundbreaking special effects from two decades ago in The Lord of the Rings, but also a painful reminder that war is hell, evoking compassion for the soldiers forced to suffer through the barbarity, keeping their memories alive. In many ways, the contrast between the humanity of the soldiers and the carnage of the battlefield maintains a Tolkien-esque spirit that possibly surpasses what he captured of the same in The Lord of the Rings.

The Top Ten

10. Frozen II (Chris Buck & Jennifer Lee) – Is this one of the ten greatest cinematic achievements from 2019? Probably not. Is it a very good musical, with beautifully written songs that are placed perfectly throughout the film for maximum emotional impact? Absolutely. I’ve seen it twice now, and the sisterly bond between Anna and Elsa (once again Kristen Bell and Idina Menzel) that was the heart of first film is even stronger here. Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez’s songs likewise top the strong score of the original film, building from the opening lullaby to Elsa’s inspiring power ballad to Anna’s heart-wrenching testament to the difficulty of change and loss. Along the way, Olaf provides even wittier comic relief, and Kristoff and Sven continue their welcome support with a thematically cohesive song of their own. (full review)

9. By the Grace of God (François Ozon) – I’m sure this has already been called the French Spotlight, but that description is misleading, because this chronicle of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church is not a story of investigate journalism bringing a monstrous evil to light, but a tale of survival from the perspective of three victims. Ozon balances the shifting narrative from one victim to the next perfectly, organizing each chapter as a progression to the realization of the full horror, not just for the viewer but the survivors as well. Based on a true story of an abusive priest in Lyon, France and the coverup by the diocese, the importance and difficulty of speaking out are at the center of the film as the consequences of sexual abuse and the subsequent silence become more deafening and widespread.

8. The Farewell (Lulu Wang) – The opening title card of The Farewell reads “based on a true lie.” It’s a lie that exposes a cultural and generational clash between Chinese customs and American ones as well as between parents and children. Billie (Awkwafina), having grown up in America, is horrified by her family’s intentions of honoring a Chinese custom not to tell her grandmother she has cancer. The family reunion under the guise of a cousin’s wedding brings out the differences not only between the emotional Billie and the more stoic Chinese traditions, but how time and environment change all the family members. Underneath the differences, however, is a strong love that manifests itself the best way each family member knows how—even when those ways are less than ideal—and it is that love Lulu Wang captures with beauty and sensitivity.

7. The Last Black Man in San Francisco (Joe Talbot) – Why do we tell stories and what purpose do they serve? That question is at the heart of this poetic, quasi-fantasy, semi-autobiographical film about Jimmie Fails (himself) and his devotion to the house built by his grandfather in San Francisco. Directed by Fails’ childhood friend Joe Talbot and written by both of them, this film depicts not only a cultural and family legacy but a celebration of art, plays, and cinema and how all of them can help us wrestle with our past and help us prepare for the future. Deeply indebted to The Wizard of Oz, the quest of Jimmie and his friend Mont for a home that has a special emotional value for them ends up revealing the ways each individual shapes a community.

6. The Dead Don’t Die (Jim Jarmusch) – The first socially conscious comedy on this list and the second of three Adam Driver performances, The Dead Don’t Die is a typical offering of droll Jarmusch humor. Excessive fracking has shifted the earth off its axis, which interferes with the earth’s cycle around the sun, which in turn causes a zombie apocalypse. Adam Driver, Bill Murray, and Chloe Sevigny play a team of cops fighting the legions of undead, even though it’s pretty clear that the events will end badly. In the face of certain death, Jarmusch never loses his sense of humor, highlighting the importance of caring for one another, the environment, and the importance of fighting for a cause that seems hopeless. (full review)

5. Parasite (Bong Joon Ho) – The first of two movies in which money is the ultimate curse to appear in my top ten. It’s tempting to call Parasite: Shoplifters, the dark and gritty remake, but that would be selling short this melodramatic, borderline fable of class warfare. Whereas Kore-eda’s Palme d’Or winner from last year was concerned with a family motivated by altruism doing their best to survive in the only ways they know how, Bong’s film is primarily concerned with the corrupting influences of money and materialism on everyone it comes into contact with, as can be seen through the central family who are motivated more by greed than anything else. The film escalates to the finale, where Bong pushes it to an eleven, but the quasi-surreal nature throughout makes it a satisfying payoff in which the true parasite (money and the love of it) turns on its hosts, and the morbid humor punctuates the bleak atmosphere at perfect intervals to offset the tragic nature of the story.

4. Knives Out (Rian Johnson) – Probably the most fun of any movie released this year, Rian Johnson’s whodunit is a riveting mystery with a conscience and delightful sense of humor. When the 85-year-old Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead by apparent suicide and detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) is anonymously hired to investigate foul play, the greed of the millionaire’s family quickly becomes contrasted with the inherent goodness of Harlan’s assistant Marta (Ana de Armas). It’s a modern-day Agatha Christie inspired parable on “woe to you who are rich,” and as obvious as the politics are, Rian Johnson’s sizzling dialogue and eclectic cast of characters prevents the movie from ever becoming a sermon, even with villains who literally quote current political talking points. (full review)

3. I Heard You Paint Houses (aka) The Irishman (Martin Scorsese) – This may not be Scorsese’s final film; and with the streak he’s been on, I hope it isn’t. Nonetheless, it is a stunning and epic culmination to his career both as a love letter to a bygone era of cinematic gangster epics (many of them his own) and a thoughtful, heartbreaking story about the ways that violence wrecks communities, friendships, and families. Robert De Niro plays Frank Sheerhan, an Irishman whose skill at “painting houses” earns him an in with the Italian mob, notably Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), even as it estranges him from his family, notably his oldest daughter Peggy (Lucy Gallina, then Anna Paquin) whom Frank pushes out of his life, even as he laments her absence. The reverse aging CGI is surprisingly effective at allowing the titans to play younger versions of themselves as Frank’s recollection of his life gradually reveals the hollowness of what it was, and that now it is what it is.

2. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach) – The second film starring Adam Driver in my top ten, and the first starring Laura Dern (so you should know what #1 is), Noah Baumbach’s brutal story of a marriage ending is unflinching in its portrayal of the ways we can hurt one another out of anger. Making that hurt even more painful is the fact that Charlie and Nicole (Driver and Scarlett Johansson) still clearly love one another, even though neither is willing to accommodate the other. A relationship this toxic may sound like excruciating cinema, but the journey of both protagonists to learn how to be alone and not use one other for their own happiness is hopeful and inspiring. It also features the best scene of the year in a soul-bearing single take performance from Driver. (full review)

1. Little Women (Greta Gerwig) – Gerwig’s approach to retelling Alcott’s famous story is one that has earned her both praise and criticism. For my money, her nonlinear approach to the story of the four March sisters is a stroke of genius—heightening the bonds between each sister, while giving each one of them their own arc. The filters are different for each timeline—golden for the earlier years of fond memories and none for the later years, enabling her to cut effortlessly between the different time periods as she juxtaposes scenes to draw comparisons that deepen the joys and sorrows of family life and sisterhood. Gerwig blatantly loves her characters, their unique personalities, their triumphs, as well as Alcott’s novel. Reuniting with Gerwig from Lady Bird, Saoirse Ronan is phenomenal as Jo, but the rest of the family stands out along with her: Florence Pugh as the carefree and later world wise Amy, Emma Watson as the quietly supportive and occasionally materialistic Meg, Eliza Scanlen as the sensitive Beth, and Laura Dern as the longsuffering Marmee who holds the family together. (full review)

Cats

Year of Release: 2019      Directed by Tom Hooper.  Starring Jennifer Hudson, Judi Dench, Francesca Hayward, Idris Elba, Taylor Swift, Ian McKellen, Jason Derulo, James Corden, and Rebel Wilson.

To answer the most important question regarding Tom Hooper’s adaptation of Cats: does Jennifer Hudson have the vocal chops to pull off “Memory,” yes, she most emphatically does. Is it enough to save a train wreck of a movie that, with few exceptions, is a series of mind-bogglingly bad decisions? For that matter is “Memory” enough to save the show itself which is likewise a series of (less) bad decisions?

Before I brand myself as a hater of Cats the stage show, which is a more or less enjoyable two-plus-hour dance recital if you can accept it for that, let me sincerely say that it has several decent songs and the choreography is fun to watch. The songs I particularly enjoy from the show are “Memory,” “Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats,” “Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat,” and “Macavity the Mystery Cat.” The song (yes, singular) that I enjoyed in this presentation was “Memory,” in spite of Hooper’s attempts to sabotage it.

Hudson lands the one big showstopper that’s far more difficult to sing well than most people give it credit for. Hooper then follows it with a reaction shot of two humans imitating cats that elicited deserved howls of laughter in my theater. If following the one earned moment of pathos in the movie with that wasn’t bad enough, Victoria (Francesca Hayward) then sings the desperate Oscar attempt for best original song, cowritten by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Taylor Swift: “Beautiful Ghosts.” It’s the equivalent of a figure skater nailing the triple axel and then twice falling flat on her face while trying to turn around at the end of the rink.

I understand that the truncated act I version of “Memory” is followed with the full version of “Beautiful Ghosts,” so following the full version of “Memory” with a shorter reprise of “Beautiful Ghosts” could make structural sense. This ignores several important points. First, “Beautiful Ghosts” is lyrically a watered-down version of “Memory.” No musical needs to a new song to repeat the emotions of the song immediately preceding it. Second, “Beautiful Ghosts” stands out structurally and musically like a sore thumb from the rest of the score. Finally, it’s an okay song at best, so placing it next to the most famous song in the show is a particularly bad idea.

Speaking of bad ideas, possibly the worst one plaguing this movie is the decision that the paper-thin plot tacked onto the original needed more explanation. As a result, ridiculous and redundant expository dialogue has been introduced to the originally completely sung musical, explaining at the end of the Jellicle Ball, one cat, chosen by Old Deuteronomy (Judi Dench), gets to go to the Heavyside Layer to be reborn. A seven-year old could have told you that from watching the stage show without it being explained to them, but apparently Hooper and screenwriter Lee Hall think the average movie goer in 2019 is less intelligent than the average seven-year-old. It doesn’t make the plot more sensical—that’s not possible—it just makes the stupidity of it more apparent.

Even more mind-numbingly, all of this is being explained to Victoria, the youngest and newest cat attending her first Jellicle ball. In the stage show, the performing cats break the fourth wall, addressing the non-feline audience to explain the “Naming of Cats” and who the various cats are. It makes no sense at all that this needs to be explained to a cat, an animal with one of the best instincts. Inconsistently, the movie also doesn’t entirely abandon the fourth-wall breaking. For the final number, “The Addressing of Cats,” Old Deuteronomy looks right at the camera, presumably forgetting about the audience-surrogate Victoria standing right next to her. Or maybe it’s because Victoria has now become a Jellice cat, which is the one unexplained aspect of the stage show that the movie insists on keeping a mystery.

I’ve been negative long enough. Francesca Hayward is a very good dancer and singer, and from the little bit she has to act, presumably a good actress too, knowing how to emote with her body and eyes. Ian McKellen’s 110% commitment to mimicking a cat is more enjoyable than almost anything else in the movie, and of course there’s Hudson. Taylor Swift is also in the movie, and she performs “Macavity the Mystery Cat” with surprising skill, even if her breathy singing style doesn’t quite have the aggressive edge the song needs.

As a groupie of Macavity (Idris Elba, playing a smaller version of Shere Khan), it’s weird that Swift’s Bombalurina is the only female feline to have a noticeably not-flat chest, which the camera creepily draws attention to. If I wanted to think about this movie more than I do, I might say it’s an example of slut-shaming by making the most sinister female cat the only sexual one, as contrasted with Jason Derulo’s flirtatious Rum Tum Tugger. But I really don’t want to think about it that much. I especially don’t want to think about Rebel Wilson in a CGI fat cat suit spreading her legs and scratching the inside of her upper thighs, but bad ideas plague this movie in truly incredible ways. However, writing those sentences back to back just made me realize that when this movie focuses on cat bodies, or human ones thanks to CGI cat fur, the focus is almost always female and always unflattering.

I haven’t even talked about Hooper’s bad camera choices here. He apparently learned the lesson from his dumb single-take song idea for Les Misérables, but he’s overcorrected, cutting so frequently that, for the most part, we barely get to see the dances. Steven McRae’s tap dancing as Skimbleshanks is one of the few nice exceptions, even though Andrew Lloyd Webber decided the song need to be updated, cutting the bridge and re-orchestrating it, as he does to the detriment of several songs, such as “The Old Gumby Cat” and “The Addressing of Cats,” although the latter may have been because Judi Dench doesn’t have the voice to sing its enormous range.

I also need to mention the human faces on the mice and cockroaches that Jennyanydots (Rebel Wilson) keeps in line and occasionally swallows whole. Since the entire set was designed for human-sized cats, shouldn’t mice and cockroaches be proportionately larger than they are in real life, and not the same size? It’s a strange disconnect, much like the shots of human cats crawling on all fours and then randomly deciding to walk on two legs that plague most of “Jellicle Songs for Jellice Cats,” but clearly not something that mattered to anyone making Cats or anyone who will enjoy it, which can probably be said about most of this movie.

 

Personal recommendation: D+