The Best Movies of 2018: Part 1

As we all bade adieu to 2018, there's an overwhelming sense of relief. Thank goodness that awful year is over! And, I agree. On a global level, 2018 was not exactly a good year. But I have to say that, in the world of film, 2018 was the best year in a while. There were SO many excellent films this year. And I know this because if I compare the forthcoming list of my 30 favorite films of 2018 to my Top 30 lists for the past three years, it's shocking how much better this year's films are. My pick for #30 this year would easily make it into the Top 20 at least in any of the previous years. Even films that didn't make my list at all this year could have made it into the Top 20 in previous years! The general quality of film in 2018 was unbelievably high. So, please, if you haven't seen the films on this list, check them out. Even as the world crumbles around us (and perhaps because of it), film as an art form is going strong.

Also, as always happens with these lists, I need to include the caveat that I haven't seen every film released in 2018. I watch a lot of movies—a LOT of movies—but it’s impossible for me to see everything. This year, I feel like I saw most of the titles that I was interested in, but you never know. Considering that every year there are multiple obscure films that blow me away, it’s always possible that my favorite film of the year is one I’ve never even heard of. There are also many 2018 films that simply haven't gotten a theatrical release yet and therefore it has been impossible for me to see them. This includes Oscar-shortlisted foreign language films like Never Look Away, Birds of Passage, and Ayka, and intriguing indie animated films like Tito and the Birds, and Ruben Brandt, Collector. Last year, I had to publish my list before films like A Fantastic Woman and The Insult had been released in the U.S., and they would have been high on my list had that not been the case.

All that said, I stand by all of the excellent films on this list and am proud to present them as my Top 30 of the year. Starting with…

30: The Guilty

There are few film gimmicks as satisfying as the limited setting. We now have many examples of films where the camera is limited to mostly one room or location (Alfred Hitchcock popularized this with films like Rear Window and Rope), but it always feels fresh and original. This is partly because it's an incredibly difficult gimmick to pull off, so it forces a filmmaker to adapt in new and different ways. It's also because, without elaborate set pieces, it forces a film to generate interesting characters to drive the plot. The Guilty is a perfectly executed thriller which uses its limited setting not as a hindrance, but as a benefit; utilizing a single office space for the entirety of the film gives the audience a sense of claustrophobia which adds significantly to the tension. The film follows Asger Holm (Jakob Cedergren), a disgraced police officer who been demoted to answering emergency dispatch calls while awaiting trial. The cocky Asger is clearly disinterested in his new assignment, but that changes when he receives a call from a kidnapped woman in distress by the name of Iben (Jessica Dinnage). Using limited information, and not being able to leave his desk, Asger tries desperately to save Iben and figure out the details of her kidnapping. It's truly edge-on-your-seat stuff, and the mystery at the film's center is satisfying and well planned out. Director and writer Gustav Möller doles out information to the audience at a perfect pace, never feeling like he's coyly holding back, while also not giving too much away at one time. I also have to say that the cast is excellent. Cedergren conveys a lot as the stoic Asger, and portrays him as a character we can root for even if we don't like him very much. But the film soars due to the quality of its voice-over performances. Everyone Asger speaks to on the phone sounds utterly believable, and the authenticity of their performances is what makes the movie so compelling. I didn't realize until after the movie had ended that we never even see Iben because I could visualize her so perfectly due to Dinnage's performance. The Guilty recently made the Oscars shortlist for best foreign language film, and there's been an announced American remake starring Jake Gyllenhaal. Honestly, that's already an impressive legacy for a film made on a shoestring budget film from a first-time film director. But after seeing The Guilty, the appeal of the film is immediately apparent. It's really impeccable filmmaking.

29: Jinn

It's still so rare to see movies about being a Muslim in America. And films that do examine the lifestyle of the modern American Muslim tend to either offer a watered-down view, or go to extremes in depicting the worst examples of Islamophobia. That's why Nijla Mu'min's debut feature is such a triumph. Jinn doesn't shy away from discussing the discrimination that Muslims face in the United States, but that's also not what the film is ultimately about. It's a touching coming-of-age drama that also feels like an honest portrayal of Muslims as opposed to a sensationalized one. The film follows Summer Jennings (Zoe Renee), a young girl who is surprised by her single mother's conversion to Islam. Her mother, Jade Jennings (Simone Missick), is a popular local weather woman, who struggles with how her colleagues and fans will accept her new religion which has brought much fulfillment to her life. Throughout the course of the movie, Summer and Jade come to terms with what their religion means to them, and what they mean to each other. The central relationship between Summer and Jade is a beautifully defined one, and marks Mu'min as a storyteller with a clear and vital voice. It's exciting to see groundbreaking films like Jinn get made at all, but it's especially satisfying when they're this good.

28: Eighth Grade

Often, the best films are the ones that transport us to another world. Be it a fantasy world, a far off land, or another era, the feeling of being immersed in another place or time is a gift that movies can give us. Eighth Grade, the directorial debut of comedian Bo Burnham, almost immediately transports its audience to the endearing and awkward world of Kayla Day (Elsie Fisher). While there are plenty of films about high school life, we rarely see media about middle schoolers. This might be because 30-year olds can't play middle schoolers, but it also might be because that's a really awkward time in most people's lives and few want to revisit it. But Burnham forces us to dive back into the harrowing days of eighth grade headfirst. The awkwardness is made bearable by Fisher's winning portrayal of Kayla, which is easily the most delightful performance of the year. We know we're seeing Kayla at a difficult time in her life where she doesn't know who she is or how she relates to the world. But what Burnham's film makes immensely clear is that Kayla is ultimately going to be okay. We know she'll make it through this because we all somehow did. Burnham is a wonderful comedian and Eighth Grade is frequently hilarious, but when I reflect back on Eighth Grade, the humor isn't what stands out to me. It's this film's tremendous heart.

27: The Hate U Give

Multiple films in 2018 deal with tensions between Black Americans and police officers. While other films take an understated approach and address the project more artistically (Blindspotting and Monsters and Men come to mind most prominently), The Hate U Give is the one that addresses this delicate topic most directly and clearly, and that alone makes it one of the most essential films of the year. The Hate U Give is adapted from a YA novel, and its source material origins are readily apparent, leading to the emotional beats being (with a few notable exceptions) fairly predictable. But that predictability doesn't take away from their impact. It's impossible to watch this film without feeling emotional, and The Hate U Give shows unparalleled bravery in its storytelling. Despite its heavy subject matter, it's a shockingly accessible film. And while the point of the film is primarily to make a statement, it is still character-driven. Russell Hornsby in particular creates one of the best characters of the year with his portrayal of Maverick Carter, a protective and powerful father and reformed gang member. In a just world, both Hornsby and the film as a whole would be on everyone's radar for awards season, but even if it doesn't pull in the accolades it should, this film's legacy will leave an impact for a long time to come.

26: The Tale

I was on the fence about including The Tale on this list because it's a TV movie. But it's also not just any TV movie and, considering it was originally made to be released in theaters and competed at Sundance, I think it has merited its place on this list. I honestly don't understand how The Tale didn't sweep every television award out there, because this is one of the most groundbreaking films I've ever seen. Jennifer Fox's autobiographical film about the sexual abuse she experienced as a child is unbelievably powerful, and approached the topic in a way I've never seen in film before. It's raw, haunting, and brilliant. Fox ordinarily makes documentaries, and that journalistic approach has served her well here. I've rarely seen a director be so vulnerable from behind the camera, and the film she has made is staggeringly personal. It demands to be seen, discussed, and it will undoubtedly stay with anyone who watches it.

25: Nancy

Nancy came and went without much fanfare when it was in theaters, and that's a shame, because this is a really excellent little indie film. The consistently excellent Andrea Riseborough stars as Nancy Freeman, one of the oddest protagonists of 2018. Nancy is, on the surface, an incredibly unlikable character. Awkward, antisocial, and disdainful, she seems to only get pleasure from scamming and compulsively lying to people. One day, she sees a news segment about a couple whose daughter was kidnapped as a child. While Nancy has no particular recollection of this happening to her, something about the story seems to resonate with her. She's the right age, and looks eerily similar to the sketch of what the child would look like today, so she contacts the parents and meets with them. The film constantly makes you second guess your thoughts about Nancy and her motives. Even if you don't like her, she's fascinating and increasingly sympathetic, with Riseborough's performance bringing out unexpected nuance to the role. J. Smith Cameron and Steve Buscemi also do wonderful work as the grieving parents, whose mixture of optimism and caution upon meeting Nancy is truly heartbreaking. The smart screenplay constantly subverted my expectations, and combined with the outstanding ensemble cast, Nancy is one of the most underrated films of 2018 for sure.
 
24: Searching

As computer screens increasingly become the thing we as a society spend most of our time looking at, it makes sense that films are starting to delve into the computer screen as a storytelling gimmick. And gimmicky as it is, it can be incredibly effective when done well. Searching is not the first film to have unfolded as if we're sitting at a computer screen, but it is the best example so far, and the one that best mines the familiar setting for emotional depth as opposed to shock value. John Cho is wonderful as a father desperately searching for his missing daughter, and the subtleties of his performance and of the film-making make this mystery soar. Plus, the opening scene (which borrows more than a few pages from the opening of Up) could hold up on its own as a pretty phenomenal short film. Searching is exciting not only for its originality and excellence in its own right, but because it feels like a predecessor for even better films that are sure to come. It shows that the medium of film is continuing to evolve, which is always a good thing to be reminded of.

23: Cold War

In Cold War, the latest film from Polish filmmaker Pawel Pawlikowski, a music director named Wiktor Warski (Tomasz Kot) discovers a remarkable new talent in Zula (Joanna Kulig), a young and driven singer with a downtrodden past. He nurtures her talent, turning her into a star, and along the way, the two fall in love. And if you think this sounds like the premise of a DIFFERENT film from 2018 (perhaps an Oscar frontrunner starring Lady Gaga) then you're not wrong. On paper, the two films have a lot in common, but ultimately they're incredibly different. And not just because Cold War focuses on Polish mountain folk music instead of pop. Cold War is like a film from another time. And I'm not just saying that because it's a period piece (set during the Cold War, duh). The nostalgia element of Cold War goes beyond, say, having the costumes and sets be from the 50's. It really feels like it could have been made forty years ago. It's a movie that feels lived-in, a callback to the Golden Age of Hollywood and all the romance that era conjures up. And like the best films of that era, it's deceptively simple. Pawelowski is a master of minimalism. Most of the scenes of Cold War are very short, but convey an incredible amount of information in their briefness. In one or two lines, and sometimes even in just a glance, we learn everything we need to know. The black and white cinematography is lush, the music is sweeping and gorgeous, and the characters feel like they could have stepped into Rick's Café Américain had Casablanca been set in the Soviet Union. But despite all the lyrical glitz and glamor, Cold War also thrives when its undercurrent of sadness comes through. The title is laden with meaning, and the war serves as a constant backdrop for the story. Wiktor and Zula are very much two lost souls, constantly looking for meaning—in music, in Paris, in Poland, in themselves, in other people—and failing to find it. It's a bittersweet film that has been beautifully and delicately placed together. Despite its Chekhovian sense of melancholy, it's a delight to watch and experience.

 
22: You Were Never Really Here

A violent movie starring Joaquin Phoenix as a hitman sounds like it would be a badass action film. But anyone going into Lynne Ramsay's You Were Never Really Here expecting something akin to John Wick is bound to be surprised. Ramsay takes an action film premise and turns it into an arthouse wonder— methodical, brutal, and lyrical. As the film goes on it travels down paths no one would ever expect, devolving further and further from both reality and our expectations of cinematic form. Ramsay is one of the most underrated directors working today, and she is like an expert puppetmaster here, creating a disturbing cinematic elegy that is both beautiful and difficult to watch. Not everyone will love You Were Never Really Here, and I imagine some might even be repulsed by it, but the amazing way the film is put together demands to be admired. And at the center is our unlikely protagonist. Phoenix does quite possibly the best work of his career, turning his signature intensity inward to create a compelling character who feels more like an attack dog than a person, struggling with how to confront all that he has to repress in his line of work.

21: We the Animals

Much like You Were Never Really Here, my #21 pick is another difficult film to watch that comes together thanks to the wonderful ambition of its director. On a surface level, We the Animals is about a young boy and his brothers growing up in a broken household. But that description doesn't really do the film justice. It's not really a film about a story, it's more about the way the story is told. We the Animals reads like a cinematic poem, evoking feelings and emotions rather than simply depicting actions. It's abstract and experimental, but undeniably effective and easily ascends the ranks of the best films about childhood. It's always exciting when a film actually makes you feel a sense of pure wonder, but that We the Animals makes you feel that way amidst a gritty landscape of hardship is truly incredible. This is the first narrative feature from director Jeremiah Zagar, who previously made documentaries, and the use of documentary techniques blended with old fashioned movie magic makes this film feel wonderfully original and true. This ensemble cast is perfect— child actors Josiah Gabriel, Isaiah Kristian, and Evan Rosado are beautifully natural, and Raúl Castillo is a standout as their problematic but still sympathetic father.

20: Shirkers

In 1992, a young aspiring filmmaker in Singapore named Sandi Tan set out to make a movie with her friends. The film, called Shirkers, was unlike anything that had been seen in Singapore's fledgling film market before, and gained a certain cult following while it was still being shot. There was national buzz about the movie, and many anxiously awaited its release. But then, Tan's film professor, a charismatic American named Georges Cardona took all the footage to edit it together...and never finished the project. All the footage, along with Georges, were lost to Tan, and Shirkers joined the mythical ranks of unfinished films that are fascinating in their non-existence. 20 years later, some of the footage of this legendary shoot was rediscovered, and Tan took the opportunity to finally make Shirkers: but not the Shirkers she tried to make so many years ago. This documentary is exquisite in how difficult it is to categorize. It is a documentary about the making of this lost film, but it's also an act of personal discovery for Tan— a visual memoir looking at the lives of her and her friends at the time, and how they've all changed now. It's a movie about artistic expression and the creative process, and the struggles artists face in trying to bring their vision to life. There's an almost dreamlike quality to Shirkers that makes it as elusive as the non-film at its center. I'm trying to give as little information about Shirkers as possible because the joys of this documentary come from the unexpected twists and turns it takes. It's unlike any other film out there, and hopefully reannounces Tan as a filmmaker of note. Everyone should watch Shirkers, if only because you're unlikely to ever see anything quite like it, and that's a rare thing in any artistic medium.

19: Support the Girls

Support the Girls follows Lisa Conroy (Regina Hall), a manager at a bar called Double Whammies that is exactly what it sounds like. Lisa is hard-working and proud, a protective mama bear type who treats her employees like her own children and is desperate to maintain respectability in spite of the assumptions people make about her place of employ. You might not expect one of the most poignant films of 2018 to take place in a knock-off Hooters, but when you really think about it, it's kind of a fitting setting. Double Whammies is America— an institution built on misogyny and racism, now being held together by a woman of color who gives it far more of her energy than it deserves. In this way, Lisa is probably the most relatable character of the year, with her clear capabilities masking an inner desperation that is heartbreaking when it finally comes to the surface. Hall has been doing consistently great work for years, but she is an absolute revelation here, fearlessly leading a stellar ensemble all-around. An undeniably bittersweet film, it's strange to me that a film that features so much sadness ultimately feels triumphant. I think that Support the Girls has a lot in common with its main character. Like Lisa, this is a film that sees the negative and understands its consequences, but still exudes an automatic feeling of "everything will be okay" because it knows no other way to be. It's an unlikely feel-good film with a lot of hope and heart, and it's no wonder this little-indie-that-could has been included on so many best of year lists.

18: Border 

Blending fantasy with political commentary, the Swedish film Border, directed by Ali Abbasi, has one of the absolute best premises of the year. Border follows Tina (Eva Melander), a border agency guard left disfigured by a chromosome deformity. But while altering her appearance, this deformity seems to give Tina superhuman powers, such as being able to literally smell guilt on those passing through the border. Tina lives a quiet and unassuming life, but it becomes clear that not everything is as Tina believes after she encounters a suspicious man who looks exactly like her. What transpires is a modern day fairy tale that, like the best fantasy, uses mythology to make statements on our own humanity. Tina is a wonderful character, and it's thrilling to watch her journey towards self-discovery, even as that journey leads her down increasingly dark and repulsive paths. A wonderful and strange riff on a Beauty & the Beast-esque story, Border is gorgeous, wild (in every sense of the world), unforgettable, and worth seeing for the glorious character makeup and sound design alone.

17: Suspiria

One of my favorite films of all time is Dario Argento's 1977 giallo classic Suspiria. If you haven't seen it, it's difficult to describe, but it's a horror movie unlike any other. A technicolor nightmare, the film uses bright colors, a breathtaking and utterly bonkers score, and avant-garde cinematography to create a disorienting experience that makes it the most terrifying film I've personally ever seen. While perhaps not a title known by everybody, Suspiria has been one of the most influential films in the horror genre. For example, if you've ever seen a Guillermo del Toro movie, you've seen some of Suspiria's influence at play. Rumors of a remake have been floating about for years and we finally got one in 2018 courtesy of Luca Guadagnino. This was both one of my most anticipated films of the year, and one of the ones I was most nervous about. I really wanted it to be great, but worried it might fail to live up to the original.

While, for me, the original is still beyond comparison, I think that the 2018 Suspiria is a more-than worthy remake, which wisely doesn't try to recreate the unusual combination that made the original work so well and fills in the gaps on the original's flaws. Here, there's much more of a story, and Guadagnino's version makes more use out of the films' superb setting: a German ballet school run by witches. Rather than using the bright, zany colors that give the original its signature look, Guadagnino goes for a muted color palette that is striking and distinct in its own way. While more straightforward than the original, the new Suspiria succeeds in creating in its audience that wonderful feeling of being scared...but you don't really know why. Why do people keep fainting? What do these mysterious voiceovers mean? Who the hell is Helena Markos? Why does this old man act suspiciously like Tilda Swinton? WHAT IS GOING ON? AAAHHHHH! This is a film designed to set you off balance, and it's an exciting ride to take if you're up for it. There's a great twist towards the end of the film that I never saw coming but found incredibly effective. Plus, it features plenty of subtext and imagery that begs to be analyzed and analyzed without ever finding a definitive answer. It's an unforgettable film which, like its predecessor, I imagine will grow in esteem and become a cult classic in future years.
 
16: Can You Ever Forgive Me?

I truly think that Melissa McCarthy is one of the best actresses working today. She's a consummate performer who has consistently proven her versatility and excellence in a way that sadly doesn't get as much recognition as it should. There's a time-honored tradition in Hollywood of only respecting the craftsmanship of comedic actors once they prove they can also do dramatic roles, and so hopefully Can You Ever Forgive Me? will usher in a new age of respect for McCarthy. She plays the author Lee Israel, a biographer who, later-in-life, began forging letters from great literary figures to make ends meet, and discovered she had a knack for it. Israel isn't a particularly likeable character. She's cantankerous, unscrupulous, bitter and generally closed-off from those around her. But as portrayed by McCarthy, you root for her all the way. She's a surprisingly relatable character, an embodiment of the worst instincts that despair and hopelessness can lead anyone to act on. The film is as much about literature as it is about crime, and director Marielle Heller strikes a really nice balance between the two subjects. From the aesthetics to the writing, the movie has the feel of walking into a used bookshop— there's a distinct charm and feel to it that is deceptively cozy. Despite focusing on two unabashedly awful people— Israel and her partner-in-crime, lowlife criminal Jack Hock (Richard E. Grant)— the film somehow manages to be a "feel-good" film. It shows us moments of warmth and humanity even in the most artificial settings. The heart of the movie lies in the interactions between Israel and Anna (Dolly Wells, wonderful and underrated), one of the kind-natured booksellers that Israel dupes with her counterfeits. There's a sweetness to these interactions that is beautiful to watch. And yet, the sweeter these conversations get, they become more heartbreaking as we and Israel know the deception inherent at their core. The film perfectly walks this line, being sweet while always maintaining the criminal edge that prevents it from feeling cloying. It's a wholly unique crime film, buoyed by an excellent ensemble with McCarthy more than capable at the front.

15: The Old Man & the Gun

Throughout his relatively short career, director David Lowery has shown himself to be a master of both understatement and charm behind the camera. His strongest film to date is the wonderful The Old Man & the Gun, which stars Robert Redford in the true-life story of lifelong criminal and prison escapee Forrest Tucker, a bank robber who made headlines later in life as the ringleader of the "Over the Hill Gang," a group of elderly thieves. Tucker's story is a rather amazing one. Although he's a career criminal, police reports and witness interviews always noted his significant charm, and his frequent breaks from prison give him a sort of legendary quality. Lowery's film-making feels inherently nostalgic, and paints a perfect portrait of a genuine outlaw hero who belonged in another time. It's elegant in its simplicity. And, of course, the secret weapon here is Redford. It's hard to imagine a better match between actor and role than this. Redford obviously knows how to be utterly charming, but he also brings in an emotional depth and integrity to Tucker that you don't expect, so you grow to care about him immensely. I don't know if this will truly be Redford's final acting role as advertised, but if it is, it's hard to imagine a more perfect swan song for him. Much like Lowery's film A Ghost Story last year, there's an indefinable quality to The Old Man & the Gun that makes it unlike anything I've ever seen, and yet incredibly familiar, like wearing an old glove.

14: Beast

This British psychological thriller slipped mostly under the radar, which is a shame, because Beast is easily one of the most fascinating films of the year. It follows Moll Huntington (Jessie Buckley), an upper-class girl in Guernsey who falls in love with a mysterious stranger who has just arrived in town named Pascal Renouf (Johnny Flynn). There's only one problem: Pascal might be responsible for the rapes and murders of a number of young women in the area. Steady and atmospheric, Beast treats its audience to a slow-burn without ever feeling sluggish. It does this by focusing on Moll. Despite the inherent mystery surrounding Pascal, Moll is undoubtedly the more interesting character, and it's fascinating to learn more and more details about her as the film goes on. On top of a smart screenplay, the film succeeds on the strength of its two leads. Buckley and Flynn are both phenomenal, and excel at playing the dualities of their respective characters in a believable and thrilling way. Beast might not have been widely seen, but I am sure a promising career awaits both of its stars.

13: The House That Jack Built

There's no doubt that The House That Jack Built is the most controversial film on my list. News reports gleefully reported that it inspired massive walkouts at Cannes. In the glee of reporting on this, many articles hardly mentioned that the film also received a ten-minute standing ovation at the same festival. In other words...it's a Lars von Trier film. People are going to passionately hate it, and people are going to passionately love it. You can count me in the latter category. Firstly, to address the controversy surrounding the film, I feel like the reports of the movie's violence are overblown. Yes, it's a violent film, and yes, it is often incredibly disturbing. But I also didn't personally feel like any of the violence had crossed a line or was all that out of bounds from what I'd expect from a movie about a serial killer. (although, granted, I saw the edited version being released in the U.S. and not what was screened at Cannes). The reaction to the violence in the film reminds me of the initial reaction to Psycho; the film-making was so expert that people imagined violence that wasn't actually there. The vast majority of the violence in The House That Jack Built is psychological as opposed to physical, which makes the bouts of physical violence all the more effective.

The House That Jack Built is, quite simply, one of the best and most honest serial killer films ever made. Much of the credit for this is due to Matt Dillon as the titular Jack, who gives an exhilarating career-best performance as a brutal and calculating psychopath. One of the most reprehensible film characters of the year, Dillon is nonetheless compelling to watch, as over the course of the film he peels back the layers of this vicious killer. This is where I think The House That Jack Built divides audiences. It is a character study that tries to put us inside the mind of a serial killer, and that's a place no one truly wants to be. Von Trier is, as always, relentless, but this is also undoubtedly his most personal film, as he reflects on his own artistry through Jack's identity as a killer. And the film truly won me over in its epilogue. I don't want to give away a single thing about this epilogue or what happens in it, but it was shocking to me in a way that none of the preceding violence ever could be. It clarifies the film's intentions, and most bizarrely, offers a surprising dose of unequivocal beauty to accompanies an uncompromisingly grotesque film.

I certainly understand why The House That Jack Built has its detractors, and there are criticisms of the film that I think are valid. But I also think there's a genuine brilliance to this movie that demands to be recognized, and I hope that the divided reactions to the film lead to it being discussed as opposed to dismissed.

12: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

Really great animated comic book adaptations have been difficult to come by. Since they're inspired by an established illustrative style, animated comic book films have often felt constrained by the pages they lift the story from. And the best animated comic book films tend to feel like someone just filmed their source material directly as opposed to really making an independent project (I'd propose Marjane Satrapi's excellent Persepolis as the good example of this). That's what makes the animation of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse so ingenious for me. It simultaneously feels like a comic book and like a film in a way that I don't think any other movie has quite been able to balance. It wears its inspiration like a badge of honor but also develops a unique style of animation that is bright, bold, thrilling, and inherently cinematic. It's a stellar example of how animation can honestly accomplish things that live action can't. Towards the end of the film, reality starts to literally break down and the bright, neon splotches of color that take over the screen demonstrate this better than any CGI ever could. Animation as a genre is at a creative peak, but Spiderverse is truly some of the most original animation ever put to screen. Aside from its groundbreaking style, Spiderverse is simply a great film in all aspects. The storytelling is excellent. It's perfectly paced, and often meaningful and surprising (I don't want to give anything away if you haven't seen it but the Doc Ock reveal was one of my favorite film moments of the year). For a film with so many characters, you grow to genuinely care about them, even ones with very little screentime. A lot of this is due to the fact that this cast is absolutely stellar. Not only do they have a lot of star-studded names, but everyone gives it their all— it's a masterclass in voice acting. You get the sense that every single person involved in the process of making Spiderverse understood how special this project would be, and put extra care into their work. It's a gorgeous and wildly inventive film that I imagine will only continue to grow in prestige as its influence on the industry comes more into focus.


11: Cam

No film took me by surprise this year quite like Cam. I hadn't even heard of this sci-fi thriller before it was released on Netflix, but saw it had good reviews and an interesting premise so I decided to watch it. And while I am SO upset that this film didn't get the ad campaign its quality merited, it was also amazing going into it knowing nothing about it, and it absolutely blew me away. Madeline Brewer (of The Handmaid's Tale fame) stars as Alice Ackerman, better known as Lola_Lola, a career "camgirl," meaning a webcam model who performs erotic acts on a videofeed for money. For this film in particular, I don't want to give anything away, but, let's just say...it gets weird. It's like an episode of Black Mirror on steroids. Writer Isa Mazzei and director Daniel Goldhaber have created a true sci-fi nightmare, and they do so in sexy technicolor. The twists and turns of the story are beautifully executed, with moments of both visceral and psychological horror that are genuinely chilling. The aesthetics are also fantastic. It's clear that this film was made on a shoestring budget, but the inventiveness of the excellent cinematography and production design would never suggest it. But what truly elevates this film is Mazzei's screenplay and how it depicts camgirls. Mazzei is a former camgirl herself, which might explain why this is the best and most realistic depiction of sex work I've ever seen in film. The script doesn't look down on Lola or any of the camgirls, while also using its sci-fi premise to comment on how these women are exploited by their industry. And Brewer has never been better. She inhabits Lola and makes her a confident and resourceful heroine for our times. Cam is due to be a cult classic, and in a weaker year for film it would have easily been in my top 5. If you haven't seen it yet, go to Netflix and watch it now! You can thank me later.


In case you couldn't tell, I really loved all of these films. So which ten managed to beat them to gain my top spots for the year? Find out in Part 2! And let me know your thoughts on my picks so far in the comments!