The Best Movies of 2018: Part 2

If you haven't read Part 1 of this list, I highly recommend you do! As I say in that post, there were some truly incredible films this year, and every one of my picks for #30 through to #11 is a triumph of cinema in its own right. But now we have truly reached the cream of the crop. Here are my ten favorite films of 2018, masterpieces one and all. Enjoy!

10: Burning

I'd been looking forward to this South Korean mystery drama since it received the highest score from the jury of critics in the history of the Cannes film festival. And after seeing it, I understand why it has such acclaim. Despite being more than 2 hours long, it's an utterly captivating film that increasingly gets under your skin while you watch it. Like the best thrillers, it's unnerving even if you don't fully understand why. Even before things become outright sinister, everything in Burning is perfectly designed to feel slightly unnerving so that you as an audience member are constantly second-guessing your own impressions of what the heck is going on. Burning follows Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in), a young man who out of the blue reconnects with his childhood friend Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo). Despite them having not talked in years, it becomes clear that Jong-su is one of the only important people in Hae-mi's life. Shortly after they've reconnected, Hae-mi goes on a trip abroad, and returns with a new friend, Ben (Steven Yeun). Jong-su is immediately suspicious of Ben, an outsider with a mysterious large income and a detachment that hints at psychopathic. From here, Burning takes multiple twists and turns that I don't really want to give away, but I can only say that this is a movie that is quietly surprising. It is always one step ahead of the viewer, anticipating where you think the mystery will go, and then taking a sharp left turn. It's a film with a genuine sense of danger that is meticulously crafted. What's particularly amazing is that director Lee Chang-dong finds moments of true beauty in such a depressing story. The film is gorgeously shot, and is often its most visually striking at it's the most menacing, creating a haunting juxtaposition. And the secret weapon here is Yeun. The whole cast is fantastic, and works together wonderfully, but Yeun is really a standout in his first ever Korean-language role. He creates an evasive and chilling character, and Yeun never gives away too much to hint at what's really going on behind Ben's calm eyes. It's a very different role than Yeun has played in his best known projects, and it's great to see him in a role worthy of his talents.

9: Private Life

Director Tamara Jenkins has a particular knack for tackling difficult subjects that people otherwise don't want to talk about. Her last film, The Savages was one of the only films at the time to take an honest look at dementia. And now, ten years later, Jenkins' follow-up Private Life once again shines a light on a subject that is pervasive in society and yet oddly seems taboo to actually discuss. The film tackles the sensitive subject of infertility— how it can affect a couple, and how people react around a couple failing to conceive. The couple at the center of Private Life are Paul Giamatti and Kathryn Hahn, and both give work to rival some of the best of their prolific careers. They're funny, they're interesting, and most importantly both have moments where they allow themselves to be completely exposed and vulnerable. Giamatti is at his most Giamatti, acerbic and intellectual, but also more understated than he's often allowed to be. He's really great, but the film is nothing if not a showcase for Hahn. She is absolutely incredible here, and probably exhibits every emotion you could possibly think of over the course of the film. Together, they create a couple that you truly root for. You see them at their best, you see them at their worst. You laugh and cry with this couple and by the film's end, they truly feel like a pair of friends. I became so wonderfully invested in Private Life, and it has stayed with me immeasurably since I saw it. Perhaps due to its Netflix distribution, I feel like it didn't get the attention that it should have. But it's really a gem. Come for the brilliant screenplay that deftly tackles a subject rarely discussed in art. Stay for Kathryn Hahn who, again, gives hands down one of the best performances of the year.

8: Annihilation

I think we take for granted just how much distribution affects the reception a film can receive. Despite great reviews, Annihilation ended up getting mostly ignored this year. It didn't get released in theaters in most of the country, and outside of the United States, it didn't get any theatrical release at all. And that's a shame, because this is an inevitable sci-fi classic that, despite me seeing it in February, has stuck with me more than movies that I've seen in the past week. Inspired loosely by Jeff VanderMeer's acclaimed Southern Reach trilogy, Annihilation takes place not too far in the future, where a mysterious environmental phenomenon called "The Shimmer" is engulfing part of America's Southern coast, and causing the whole ecosystem to change. As The Shimmer expands, the U.S. government tries to figure out what is happening and how to stop it, but every time they send an expedition into the area nobody comes back. It's an intriguing concept, and director Alex Garland follows it to its fullest, creating a beautiful and perilous world of evolution gone wild, filled with equal parts wonder and dread. It's fascinating and thought-provoking, and the type of wonderfully layered film that you see differently every time you watch it. Much like in his previous triumph Ex Machina, Garland tackles a BIG sci-fi concept, but ultimately focuses his movie on the nature of humanity and identity. As lush as the visual world he's created is, Annihilation wouldn't be so brilliant if not for the humans at its core. For example, without giving too much away, the film's most viscerally terrifying moment involves a highly-evolved bear which has developed a new hunting technique that is downright horrifying to think about. It's a fantastic movie monster, but what makes it particularly effective is the performance of Gina Rodriguez as she panics when confronted by it. Also, like Ex Machina, this film has a dance sequence involving Sonoya Mizuno that is beautiful and poetic and utterly nuts and completely unforgettable.

7: Crime + Punishment

One could argue that this has been one of the best years for documentaries ever. A record number of documentaries were deemed box office successes in 2018, and many notable titles came out in a genre that too often goes criminally unrecognized. But the best documentary of the year for me is without a doubt Crime + Punishment. This is one of the most important movies I've ever seen, and one that should be on everyone's radar. Crime + Punishment examines the racism inherent in the police force in the United States, framed around the story of The NYPD 12, a group of cops of color who protested the illegal and racist practices within their departments. It's a remarkable piece of both journalism and storytelling, and is as engaging as it is essential. It's an in-depth film that doesn't soft peddle the topics at hand; no matter how familiar you are with the subjects the film tackles, I imagine everyone will learn something new to be outraged by. While I know that racism is inevitably irrational and driven by hate rather than logic, Crime + Punishment is so clear in its depictions— and so unique in that it places cops as its central heroes in examining this issue— that I hope that some "Blue Lives Matter" advocates might even be swayed by this powerful film. And for those who are hesitant to watch any movie about "hero cops," I personally thought the film did a great job delving into how these particular members of the NYPD grapple with being part of a unit that is antagonistic to the communities they are a part of. From a journalistic standpoint, Crime + Punishment is beyond reproach. From a filmmaking standpoint, Crime + Punishment demonstrates the immense power that a documentary can have. It's a brave, vital, and all-around extraordinary film that I hope will be viewed and discussed for many years to come.

6: Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts

While not anywhere near as popular as it once was, the Western has had a bit of a resurgence in the past few years, with numerous films offering new takes on a genre that is beloved amongst filmmakers but strives for relevance in this day and age. But no Western that I've seen has so effectively merged the tropes of the genre with new ideas as the Indonesian film Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts. One of the lesser-known titles in my top ten, this film is vicious, poetic, magical, brutal, and simply fascinating. The film follows the titular Marlina (Marsha Timothy), a grieving widow whose home is invaded by a gang of thieves who plan to rape her and steal all of her livestock. While I don't want to give anything away, I think the title makes it pretty clear that Marlina kills these thieves (rather gloriously, I might add). Marlina, embracing her newfound identity as a murderer, journeys to town to report her crime and seek out the lesser members of the gang who got away. If you had asked me to imagine what an Indonesian feminist revenge Western would look like, I probably wouldn't have been able to envision it, but Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts is even more original than the concept allows. One of the best images of the year is Marlina, calmly waiting for a bus, her rapist's severed head by her side. The young director Mouly Surya is an immense talent, and while this film didn't make the Oscar shortlist for Best Foreign Language Film this year, if she can keep making films like this, I imagine she's going to be an exciting artist to watch in the world of international cinema.

Also, this film features my favorite score of the year. The main theme for the film is truly haunting and incredible and I am so upset that there's not a recording of it yet. But if everyone goes and watches this wonderful film maybe they'll release one! Go see it and be oddly charmed by this unique and powerful film too!

5: Tully

I don't really understand why Tully has been so ignored this awards season. Maybe it's because it was released so early in the year. Maybe it's because its tone towed a line between quirk and realism that was difficult for voters to define. Maybe it's because director Jason Reitman misguidedly placed his hopes on his lesser film The Front Runner and didn't have the energy to campaign for both projects. Whatever the reason, I imagine there are several alternate dimensions where Tully received its due and was rightfully seen as an Oscar contender. The film follows Marlo Moreau (Charlize Theron), a stressed out parent who at the start of the film has a third kid on the way. Once the child is born, the trials of parenting lead her to consider getting a "night nurse" who will look after the new baby so that Marlo can get some sleep. That ends up being the titular Tully (Mackenzie Davis). The film is an excellent look at the nuances of parenting, but really thrives as a study of the relationship that develops between Marlo and Tully. Theron is fantastic, giving a performance that is relatable and raw. It's a role that one wouldn't initially have imagined her playing, but by the film's end you can't imagine anyone else playing. Davis is also very good as the quirky Tully, a fascinating character that both responds to and reclaims the problematic trope of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. But the true star of the film is the screenplay, written by Diablo Cody. I've always been a fan of Cody's, and I think this is hands-down her best screenplay to date. It's insightful and honest in a way that I don't think Cody's writing ever gets enough credit for, and it wrings genuine laughs from difficult subject matter. The screenplay of Tully leads you to places you would never expect it to go. It surprised me in a way that no other film this year did, and that's saying something. For a film that's as relatable and familiar as Tully is, it does things that no other film would ever try to do. And, what's more, it pulls it off. It's an ambitious film which might be so underrated because its complex cinematic tricks are accomplished in a way that makes it look effortless.


4: Shoplifters

One of the most enduring tropes in storytelling is that of the found family— a group of people who might not be related by blood, but who find each other and rely on each other for survival. There have been many wonderful found families throughout the history of storytelling, but one of the most lovingly put together has to be the family at the center of Shoplifters. This year's winner of the Palme d'or, Shoplifters follows a found family living in poverty as they support each other through a difficult life. Poverty is one of the most difficult things to depict on screen. Almost inevitably, making a film about poverty comes across as exploitative and obtuse. But better than any film I've ever seen, Shoplifters succeeds in depicting poverty without fetishizing it. The characters at the center of this film are simply, wonderfully, human. This is of course due to the wonderful direction and screenplay by Hirokazu Kore-eda, who somehow imbues the world of Shoplifters with every emotion possible, from grief to ebullience— often touching on multiple emotions at once. Much credit needs to be given to the brilliant ensemble, who hardly feel like they're acting at all. Every character is given a chance to shine, and every character has a moment where they surprise us. Shoplifters had me both cheering, and weeping, and will inevitably leave a lasting impression on anyone who is lucky enough to enter the world of this film.

3: BlacKkKlansman

Spike Lee has always been a filmmaker who revels in working against the grain. Perhaps that's why he refers to his films as "joints," because he regularly breaks the established rules of filmmaking to create cinematic experiences that are truly distinct. This has had mixed results for sure— his films are often inconsistent by design, and glorious in their unpredictability. But when Lee's films are at their most effective they can elicit a feeling in a viewer that safer filmmaking simply cannot. In BlacKkKlansman, Lee has his most effective film since his masterpiece Do the Right Thing (which, if you haven't seen yet, you must see because it's quite possibly the most important film ever made). There's an assuredness to the filmmaking here that reaches new heights for Lee, and shows the craftsmanship in Lee's other films that is often taken for granted. The story is inspired by the true story of Ron Stallworth, a black cop who infiltrated the KKK in the late 70's. Much has been made of the film's historical accuracy, or lack thereof. But anyone who watched the film and thinks that Lee was trying to create a historical biopic clearly wasn't paying attention. Lee is using the bare bones of Stallworth's story to comment on the social and political climate today, and takes the liberties necessary to do so. It's an unbelievably smart film, and while it's as in-your-face and bold as Lee's filmmaking tends to be, it also has tremendous subtlety and restraint in key moments that truly make it sing. It's an engaging film, and easily Lee's most commercial film to date. From the opening moments of BlacKkKlansman, there's a sense that it's a bomb about to go off, with the tension escalating throughout the film. By the film's climax it feels like that bomb has gone off, but Lee tricks his audience. After the film's narrative ends, Lee pulls back the curtain and reveals in no uncertain terms the true impact that this film has right when we're no longer expecting it. As the credits rolled, I've rarely seen a movie theater audience so still, as everyone sat and considered the impact of what they'd just seen. BlacKkKlansman is a well-oiled machine and every component is firing on all cylinders. The cast is great, especially John David Washington as Stallworth. The score is great, and epitomizes the film's anthemic rallying cry under the guise of a populist facade. The editing is exquisite, with some of the most fluid use of montage I've ever seen. But what really elevates BlacKkKlansman is the homage Lee pays to the history of black film. In the middle of the film there's a seemingly inconsequential conversation that Ron has with his girlfriend Patrice (Laura Harrier) about their favorite characters in old blacksploitation films. But what's brilliant is that Lee has co-opted the techniques of these films— the only films made for black audiences at the time— and updated and elevated them for a contemporary audience. BlacKkKlansman would have been one of the best films of the year if only for the importance of its message, but the excellence of technical filmmaking on display is some of the best of the year. It's a true cinematic marvel that cannot be ignored.

2: Custody

For the past few years I've gone out of my way to see the Oscar-nominated films in the short categories, and it's inevitably some of my favorite movie-viewing all year. There's frequently excellent filmmaking, and I often get excited when I see that once unknown directors of my favorite shorts have started directing feature films. One of the best live-action short films from the past few years was the French film Just Before Losing Everything, a tense and harrowing film about a mother planning to secretly move herself and her kids away from her abusive husband. It's a truly brilliant short that packs an emotional whallop and impressed me in all aspects of the film-making. So I was really excited to see the trailer for Custody, which not only has the same writer, director, and cast, but is a direct follow-up to Just Before Losing Everything. Set one year after the events of the short film, Custody follows the aforementioned abusive father as he fights for the right to see his son.

Writer and director Xavier Legrand is immensely talented, and has a knack for deriving great drama out of the smallest, quietest moments. One of the best things about both Just Before Losing Everything and Custody is that Legrand doesn't need to show abuse on screen for us to know it's there. This film is tense right from the get go, and slowly ramps up until a truly explosive ending. I don't want to give too much away, but even though this isn't a horror movie, the final scene is the most terrified I've ever felt in a movie theater, at least in my memory. It's honestly astonishing to watch, and proves how capable Legrand has been in pacing out the film's drama. Much credit is due to the fantastic cast. Léa Drucker is incredible as Miriam, a mother doing everything in her power to protect her children. The children, Thomas Gioria and Mathilde Auneveux, are sympathetic and strong as characters that, in a lesser film, would have felt like props. But the film belongs to Denis Ménochet as the abusive father. Best known to Americans as the farmer who sits opposite Christoph Waltz at the start of Inglourious Basterds, Ménochet has created a phenomenal villain. Steady and snarling, it's a fascinating portrayal of a man who sees himself as noble even while steadily showing more and more of the monster within him.

You don't need to have seen the short film to appreciate Custody. It certainly holds up as its own project. But while Custody is brilliant on its own, watching it as a companion piece to Just Before Losing Everything elevates both films. Each one is about a parent being pushed to their lowest point where they realize they must do something extreme for the sake of their kids. Just Before Losing Everything focuses on the mother, while Custody focuses on the father. The difference, though, lies in what each of these parents sees as necessary. The difference is striking and provides further insight into each of these characters. Watch both if you can. When Legrand becomes a famous filmmaker, you can say you were on board before the hype. 

Sadly, Custody just hasn't gotten the attention it should have, but there have been a few that have recognized the genius of this film. The National Board of Review nominated it for Best Foreign Language Film and, even more excitingly, none other that John Waters included it on his Top Ten list for favorite films of the year! He said, "This feel-bad movie of the year is so beautifully acted that it made me feel happy, happy, happy!" So, don't just take my word for it. Listen to John Waters and see this remarkable film.


1: Roma

If there is a signature theme to the filmography of Alfonso Cuarón, it's that he finds ways to make humanity feel extraordinary and to make the extraordinary feel human. His early films such as Sólo con Tu Pareja and Y Tu Mama También have a wonderful "slice of life" quality to them that he manages to bestow with an epicness and richness, elevating them beyond what other filmmakers could do with the same story. In his later work, he delved more into sci-fi, fantasy, and fancy effects that gave him a reputation as a visual master, yet all of Cuarón's work still possessed an inherent humanity. His work on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is far more character-driven than the previous installments, offering a pathos that both guided the film series in a new and rewarding direction and earned the best critical reception of any film in the franchise. In sci-fi works like Children of Men and Gravity, he faces big intriguing concepts, but again focuses on the humans the concepts surround. Children of Men isn't just about a society on the brink of extinction, it's about how people react when facing that reality (or when faced with a slight bit of hope in the apocalypse). Gravity earned much acclaim for its tech-y sequences and cinematic feats, but what stands out when one reflects back on the film are the closeups of Sandra Bullock's terrified face. It's ultimately a very personal, very human story of survival, and that attention to performance earned Cuarón his directing Oscar as much as the technical accomplishments. 

A new evolutionary point in his prolific career, Roma is his most personal film, his most evolved film, and the film that best represents who Cuarón is as a director. Never has this skill for shining a spotlight on humanity been on display more clearly than in Roma. More than any of his films before, Roma is inspired by Cuarón's own life, and particularly his childhood. It follows a domestic worker/nanny named Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), who is inspired by his memories of the domestic worker/nanny in his childhood home (her name is Liboria "Libo" Rodriguez, and the film is dedicated to her). Even without knowing this connection, the film feels personal. There is a beautiful sense of nostalgia to Roma, as if we are watching a memory— due in part to the black and white cinematography and the lush production design and score. Of the members of the family that Cleo is employed by, our eye is constantly drawn to a young boy named Pepe (Marco Graf), whose imaginative and inquisitive demeanor already implies he might be a stand-in for a young Cuarón, even before we see him wandering the woods in a spacesuit costume. The film is incredibly mature and composed, yet also feels at times like it's being told from a child's perspective. Difficult subject matters that might be hidden from a child are often conveyed to the audience indirectly, pieced together through side conversations and subtle hints. And nowhere is this innocent viewpoint more clear than in how the film depicts Cleo. Cuarón depicts her as a genuine superhero— a warrior performing impossible feats, facing her fears to save others, and going through incredible personal struggle while maintaining a calm and pleasing demeanor. Much as Cuarón must have thought as a kid, there is nothing that this remarkable woman can't do.

Of course, that is a fantasy, and mixed in with this idealized vision of Cleo, we see her vulnerability. Part of this, of course, is the deft eye of Cuarón's behind the camera (he did his own cinematography for the first time in his career, and the results are extraordinary). But it would be criminal to not also give credit to Aparicio. A schoolteacher making her acting debut in the film, Aparicio is simply astonishing, and gives a gut-wrenchingly beautiful performance. Cleo is possibly one of the most unequivocally good characters ever put on screen, and while such characters can often be bland, when they are portrayed effectively, they leave a lasting impression. Think Marge Gunderson or Atticus Finch levels of integrity. Cleo is an absolute hero for our time— one that we need even if we don't deserve, to paraphrase another film. Watching a film that so lovingly celebrates a lower-class indigenous Mexican woman feels particularly poignant in today's political climate, but to point out that topicality feels almost reductive. Without taking away from the importance of Cuarón's commentary, the truth is that I imagine Roma will always feel relevant. As political climates change and societies adapt, there will always be a feeling of quiet urgency to Roma. Aparicio's Cleo epitomizes strength in kindness, while behind the camera Cuarón insists on action against injustice. Together, they create a truly breathtaking film that I simply can't imagine someone not finding powerful. It's an instant classic, a new height for one of the best living filmmakers, and easily my pick for the best film of the year.

Well, there you have it! My picks for the absolute best films of this stellar cinematic year. Which of my picks do you agree with? Which do you disagree with? What films do you think I'm missing. There certainly are quite a few celebrated titles from this year which either I liked a lot but couldn't find a place for, or which I thoroughly disliked and think are massively overrated. Let me know your thoughts on my list, and feel free to share your own favorites in the comments! And for more "best of 2018" content, sure to check out my list of the 100 best film performances of 2018.