The time has come, once again, for my annual roundup of my 30 favorite films of the year. My preamble will be a bit shorter this year (let's get right to the movies!!!). While I do watch an unreasonable number of movies every single year (this year more than ever) I obviously can't see EVERYTHING, and considering the number of under-the-radar titles that always make the cut for me, I'm sure there are some surprises that have completely passed me by. A few standout titles that I know I haven't gotten to are Saint Omer, which has a January release so is sort of on the cuff between a 2022 and 2023 release, and might make my list next year. I also have not been able yet to see some of the most notable documentaries of the year, including standout titles like All the Beauty and the Bloodshed and All That Breathes. Still, since I acknowledge I can't literally see every movie (until someone decides to pay me to do so) I'm very happy to stand by this list as it is. As always, the choices are subjective, and I hope you enjoy my analysis and add some of these films to your personal to-watch lists. Now, let's kick things off with...
#30 Leonor Will Never Die
One
of the most consistent presences on these end of year lists is Everything
Everywhere All at Once (and it will appear on my list as well), but it
wasn’t the only great genre-blending, family-centric, multi-world, action comedy
starring a badass older Asian woman to come out this year. Filipino film Leonor
Will Never Die is a wonderful movie that feels like it’s The Wizard of Oz
by way of Quentin Tarantino and Looney Tunes. The titular Leonor is Leonor
Reyes (a wonderful Sheila Francisco), a retired, reclusive filmmaker who lives
with one son and is haunted by the ghost of her other son. When she suffers a
head injury, she is transported into the world of an unfinished screenplay of
hers, forcing both Leonor and her family to confront their feelings on love,
loss, and legacy head on. It’s a delightful journey to take, featuring a cast
of colorful oddballs, and some surprising creative choices. Wholly original, it's an underrated gem from this year that is worth seeking out.
#29 Resurrection
There are some horror films which shock you into submission with bold, blatant scares. There are others that ramp the tension up slowly, getting under your skin so that the greatest sense of fear comes days after the movie has already ended. Resurrection, a psychological thriller from director Andrew Semans, is one of the latter types. It follows Margaret (Rebecca Hall), a business woman and single mother to Abbie (Grace Kaufman). Her life is derailed when she sees David (Tim Roth), an ex who she cut out of her life years ago. The reappearance of David prompts nightmares in Margaret, who begins to behave erratically. As more about Margaret and David’s relationship is revealed, Margaret’s actions begin to make more sense, and the fallout of her addressing those actions becomes increasingly treacherous. This is the rare slow-burn film that actually has a payoff worthy of its leadup, due in no small part to the powerhouse performance of Hall and the disquieting one of Roth. In a year of great horror movies, Resurrection is one of the most unforgettable. It’s uncomfortable to watch, but ultimately a satisfying tale of trauma and resilience.
#28 Brian and Charles
In Jim Archer’s Brian and Charles (expanded from his short film of the same name), Brian Gittins (David Earl), is a failed but determined inventor who quite accidentally builds a working robot named Charles Petrescu (Chris Hayward). Although the most successful of Brian’s inventions, Charles is still rather haphazardly put together—he’s clunky in appearance and childlike in demeanor. To Brian, Charles is at once an achievement to be proud of, a child to be responsible for, and one of the only friends he has. It’s one of the best film duos of 2022. They, like the film they’re in, are quirky and odd and undeniably endearing. Brian and Charles may not be a perfect film—the second half is solid, but doesn’t quite live up to the promise of the first—but it’s so inventive and lovely that it can’t help but be compelling. It has the sort of rough-around-the-edges charm that is utterly delightful, and it’s impossible to not be won over by it.
#27 Last Film Show
One of the most talked-about films of the year was RRR, S.S. Rajamouli’s epic action drama, which became an unlikely international hit and even more unlikely Oscar contender. When India didn’t select it as its entry for the Best International Film category, there was a lot of uproar, with many calling the selection committee out of touch for snubbing the film. In many ways, yeah, it was probably a bad decision, as RRR would have been a surefire lock for a nomination (India has not had a nominated film in this category for over two decades). But having seen their selection, Pan Nalin’s Last Film Show, I personally feel they selected the better film. And it’s a film that could be a contender for that award if Oscar voters give it its due. Last Film Show follows Samay (Bhavin Rabari), a nine-year-old boy who befriends Fazal (Bhavesh Shrimali), a projectionist at a local movie theater. Under Fazal’s tutelage, Samay becomes fascinated with everything about film, and his dreams of becoming a filmmaker coincide with his hopes of escaping his small village for a better life. The story isn’t exactly revolutionary (have you seen Cinema Paradiso? It’s VERY Cinema Paradiso), but it’s still a remarkably affecting story, and Nalin tells it beautifully. In a year where we saw a record number of movies about “The Magic of the Movies,” Last Film Show stands out as one of the most straightforward, but also one of the best.
#26 Inu-Oh
Masaaki Yuasa is one of the strongest voices in animation today—and his lushly animated, passionate, and innovative filmography would be a great one to look into if you want to see what the world of anime films looks like beyond Studio Ghibli. His latest, Inu-Oh, is my favorite of his to date, and if nothing else, it’s without a doubt the best animated glam-rock opera set in 14th Century Japan that came out this year. It tells the story of Inu-Oh, a deformed, magical being who befriends Tomona, a blind biwa player who can communicate with spirits. Together, they form a musical act and sing the stories of dead Heike warriors. Their anachronistic performance style captivates their audience, earning them popularity while they not only reinvent how stories are told, but redefine which deserve to be heard. It’s an old fable made modern, and the results are thrilling to watch.
#25 Confess, Fletch
More than any other film on this list, it frustrates me that Confess, Fletch didn’t get more attention than it did. The film is an adaptation of Gregory Mcdonald’s novel, one of many featuring the titular character of I.M. Fletch—played this time by Jon Hamm— and in a just world, it would be the start of a whole new series of Fletch films (the series was adapted to film once before starring Chevy Chase). This film is, simply put, a delight. Every single person involved seems to be having an amazing time, and has clearly put a lot of love and care into bringing this story to screen (it’s even reported that Hamm gave up a good chunk of his salary to finish financing the production of the film). Even if you’re not familiar with Fletch, the vibe of the film becomes immediately clear: a bumbling journalist inadvertently finds himself the prime suspect of a murder, and only gets into more trouble when he attempts to solve the crime himself. Hamm’s version of Fletch is less bumbling than Chase’s was, but he turns in his funniest performance yet, and is aided by a delightful supporting cast. He not only disappears into the role, but it becomes hard to imagine Hamm playing any other role as effectively. Confess, Fletch is an unendingly charming film, and the type of crowd-pleaser that I simply can’t imagine someone not enjoying.
#24 Decision to Leave
It’s
been wonderful to see the rise of Park Chan-wook in the filmmaking world. While
he has refused to define himself to one filmmaking style, he gained
international recognition as somewhat of a genre filmmaker, thanks to his
interest in human brutality and tendency towards the odd and suspenseful. But
somewhere along the way he has gone from a cult favorite to a bona fide
cinephile darling, with his filmmaker cred being cemented when he won Best
Director at Cannes this year. Decision to Leave feels like the perfect
film for this prolific director to make right now; it features the same
intricate storytelling Park is known for, but doesn’t shy away from the twisted
streak that has also always defined his work. The film tells the story of insomniac
detective Jang Hae-jun (Park Hae-il) who becomes fascinated by Song Seo-rae
(Tang Wei), a widow suspected of murdering her husband. No one does fucked up
romance like Park, and the romance at the center of the film is just as complex
as the mystery itself. Stylish and Hitchcockian, Decision to Leave feels
at times like it’s more mundane than some of Park’s more “out-there” works, but
there’s great complexity hiding right below the surface. A frontrunner for Best International Film at the Oscars this year, Decision to Leave has more than earned the accolades it has received, and when we look back on the year in film for 2022, it's destined to be one of the most defining and during titles.
#23 Wet Sand
One of the reasons I enjoy watching obscure films is that I go in without knowing what to expect. Sometimes I end the movie and understand why it’s not gotten attention, but sometimes a movie can really take me by surprise, and become one of my favorite films of the year just hours after I’d first heard of it. That was the case with the Georgian film Wet Sand, a powerful drama that just got better and better as the layers of the story unfolded. The film takes place in a small village, where everybody knows each other and likes each other. When a local man hangs himself, his granddaughter Moe (Bebe Sesitashvili) returns home to plan the funeral. The sudden death and Moe’s return prompts long dormant secrets to become unearthed, and the unassuming drama becomes unbelievably tense and gripping. Be warned, this one is very much not a feel-good film, and director Elene Naveriani leans into the devastation of the story for maximum effect. They lay breadcrumbs along the way so that the tragic conclusion feels inevitable, and the horror of what will happen hits before it actually unfolds on screen. It’s a clever twist of the knife that makes Wet Sand one of the most heartbreaking and beautiful films of the year. It’s definitely an underrated gem that’s worth seeking out, and Naveriani is a great talent whose next film deserves a much higher profile.
#22 Incantation
In what many have been calling an all-time great year for horror, one title that I wish was getting more attention is the Taiwanese film Incantation. The plot is deceptively simple—Li Ronan (Tsai Hsuan-yen) desperately tries to lift a curse from her daughter Dodo (Huang Sin-ting)—but the way the familiar plot unfolds is surprising and genuinely terrifying. Incantation is a found footage film, and is a masterclass in how to use that form in a way that doesn’t feel gimmicky. The documentary style makes the terrors feel real, and makes the stakes feel particularly high. I’d say Incantation was one of the scariest films I personally saw this year, but that’s not why it’s on this list. Scares aside, the exploration of motherhood and the determination of a parent to conquer evil is the best I’ve seen in a horror film since The Babadook. Incantation has haunting imagery, wonderful craftsmanship, and a truly emotional core that will tug at your heartstrings just as effectively as it has you jump out of your seat.
#21 Fire Island
Who knows where star and screenwriter Joel Kim Booster got the idea to retell the story of Pride and Prejudice on present day Fire Island, but I’m incredibly thankful that he did. Despite featuring different characters and taking place in a completely different time and setting as the original book, Fire Island is one of the best adaptations of Pride and Prejudice brought to screen—no small feat considering how often this story has been told on screen. It’s one of the smartest adapted screenplays I’ve seen in a long time, and understands the whole point of Pride and Prejudice innately. Every theme that we know from Pride and Prejudice is present here—the importance of family bonds, the insidiousness of classism, the severity of social scandals—and feels heightened when presented in this contemporary lens. It provides a genuinely fresh take on a 200-year-old classic, and does so by highlighting the story rather than reinventing it. The character updates are perfect, and the casting is perfect. And with all this praise, I haven’t even mentioned…IT’S FUNNY! If you want an enjoyable rom-com, Fire Island fits the bill. If you want a stealthily smart piece of filmmaking where every choice feels purposeful and studied, Fire Island will satisfy and cinephile's needs as well.
#20 Paris, 13th District
Is a list of movies worth anything if it doesn’t contain one sexy French film? Paris, 13th District tells the stories of several young, hot Parisians and how their lives are affected by love, lust, and loss. Like most films like this, the lack of a singular narrative means that it could feel aimless, but the strength of the screenplay (co-written by superstar Céline Sciamma) and the brilliant ensemble means that Paris, 13th District never feels out of place. Even when the perspective suddenly shifts, it’s always cohesive and compelling. I don’t think Paris, 13th District necessarily breaks new ground or does anything I’ve never seen before, but it carries out familiar tropes pretty much perfectly, depicting and defining love in the time of millennials as well as I’ve seen on screen. The entire cast is wonderful—relative unknowns Lucie Zhang and Makita Samba are definitely ones to watch in the future—but I want to give particular praise to Noémie Merlant, who’s a standout here. Merlant gained widespread recognition for her work in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and has gained attention this year for her supporting turn in Tár, but personally this is my favorite performance I’ve seen from her. She and the rest of the cast simply have an ease on screen that makes these characters—and their triumphs and struggles—feel so achingly real.
#19 Întregalde
A Romanian drama about lost humanitarian aid workers isn’t exactly the stuff of blockbuster hits, but the little-seen Întregalde stands out not just as one of my favorite, but as one of the most thrilling films of the year. As I mentioned, the film follows a trio of well-meaning humanitarian workers who get lost in the mountains while bringing supplies to poverty-stricken regions in Transylvania. They meet Kente (Luca Sabin), a local who agrees to help them find their way, until it becomes clear that he is more confused than they had initially realized. Soon, they are helplessly lost, and find themselves under threat from factors they never would have anticipated. The film offers a slow burn, for sure, but it’s one that pays off in spades and ended up being one of the most affecting films of the year. Director Radu Muntean is a skillful filmmaker, who makes his audience feel just as disoriented as the characters at its center. What starts as a low budget drama becomes a weirdly terrifying ordeal, one defined by peril and paranoia. But, to be clear, I wouldn’t call Întregalde a horror film—it’s a political thriller with a rather important message. Our humanitarian protagonists are well-meaning, but it’s also clear they’re not equipped to make substantive change, and are certainly incompetent when confronted with the actual poverty they have supposedly devoted their time to. Muntean doesn’t demean or discredit his characters, but he does pass judgment on them, and his commentary is insightful, pointed, and direct. His secret weapon is Sabin, who has never acted before, and who is captivating as Kente. It’s an understated performance, and is the emotional core of the whole film. You feel for him, and he brings a level of authenticity to the role that his casting was clearly meant to invoke. If Muntean ever feels like he’s lecturing about social responsibility from behind the camera, Sabin’s on-camera presence firmly establishes Întregalde as a film that is deeply human. It’s a film about flawed characters doing their best, and about the implications present when their best is just not good enough.
#18 She Said
She Said tells the story of the reporters at the New York Times who broke the story of producer Harvey Weinstein’s history of rape, sexual assault, and abuse. It is mind-boggling to think of how difficult a film like this would be to pull off. You’re already dealing with sensitive material that is hard to depict on screen in a responsible manner, but you’re also criticizing the very industry that you are a part of. While there are not exactly Weinstein defenders out there, there is still a lingering discomfort within the film industry concerning the ghosts of their past, making this film’s message even more difficult to communicate. I think the shadow of Weinstein is a huge part of why She Said has not received the attention it deserved this awards seasons. It’s also what makes the success of She Said so remarkable. She Said doesn’t try to shed any new light on the case—it doesn’t have any headline grabbing “gotcha!” that would have cheapened the film. Instead, it simply presents the story as it unfolded, in a way that demands to not be ignored. Director Maria Schrader and writer Rebecca Lenkiewicz avoid cliché and let their audience react without informing them of what their emotions are supposed to be. That level of trust is imperative in making the film as informative and effective as it is. A film about Weinstein’s crimes was inevitable. We’re lucky we got one as powerful and masterfully made as She Said.
#17 After Yang
Kogonada made quite an impression with his debut film Columbus, a quiet drama about architecture. It was an intriguing film that made me curious to see what he came up with next. Considering how grounded Columbus was, I never expected Kogonada’s sophomore feature to be in the realm of science fiction. But I think it’s a testament to Kogonoda’s skill as a filmmaker that with only two films—and two films that on their face should be completely different—he already has a distinct style and artistic point of view. After Yang follows a futuristic family that finds their life upended when their adopted robotic child Yang becomes unresponsive. What I love about After Yang is how confident it is in its vision of the future. The world feels fully realized without beating us over the head with how clever it is. Most of the worldbuilding occurs in the background, without attention being drawn to it. It allows us to be intrigued by the world but not be distracted by it, making it feel more immersive than most futuristic settings I’ve seen on film. And Kogonada takes this strategy because, while it’s necessary for the story that it takes place in the future, After Yang is ultimately about themes applicable to the present day. Over the course of the film, After Yang explores such grand themes as family, loss, identity, and what it means to be human. They’re themes that have been explored by many films in the past, but After Yang presents them in a context and setting that feels fresh and often poignant. After Yang is lyrical, philosophical, and truly powerful precisely because it is so unassuming.
#16 The Fabelmans
It’s truly staggering to consider how impressive Steven Spielberg’s career is. He started out as a spunky wunderkind, showcasing technical knowhow and an uncanny sense of pacing and emotional understanding. Along the way, he became a seasoned veteran, to the point that it’s easy to take his work for granted. The crowd-pleasing tropes that defined him and revolutionized filmmaking now feel expected from him, and even though his films are consistently well-made, it’s harder and harder for Spielberg to genuinely surprise anyone with his worj. This is what makes The Fabelmans so powerful—it gives us everything we expect from a Spielberg film, but contextualizes it so it feels new again. Many have commented that it’s Spielberg’s most personal film, but crucially, it’s also his most vulnerable. And that vulnerability gives The Fabelmans an urgency that you don’t often see from a filmmaker this far along in their career. The film follows the journey of Sam Fabelman (Gabriel LaBelle), a young man on his path towards becoming a filmmaker. The result is many scenes where the audience feel like they’re a fly on the wall, simply observing the life of a boy and his family—but by the film’s end it becomes clear how every moment contributed in some way to where Sam—and Spielberg himself—ends up. Even if you didn’t know it was autobiographical, it would be pretty obvious in the way that characters are portrayed so vibrantly. Each one feels real, allowing the film to feel lived-in, avoiding the oversentimentality that would have been present in the hands of a lesser filmmaker. In fact, while Paul Dano and Michelle Williams have been the awards season contenders all years for their performances as Sam’s parents (and they’re both quite good), the standout characters for me are those who are more on the sidelines. Judd Hirsch steals the whole film with two scenes as Sam’s eccentric granduncle. Then Chloe East steals it again with her breakout portrayal of Sam’s first girlfriend. There’s a great scene with where Logan (Sam Rechner), a jock and Sam’s high school bully, confronts Sam over how he’s been portrayed in one of Sam’s films. The scene gives a level of nuance to the character that is noticeably absent when it comes to another bully, Chad (Oakes Fegley). Because Logan had some sort of effect on making who Spielberg did, in a way that Chad did not, Spielberg serves him well despite his many flaws. It’s a quintessential trick throughout The Fabelmans, and one that Spielberg uses well. Even the family friend who had an affair with his mother comes across really well, thanks in no small part to a career-best performance from Seth Rogen. For all of the buzz and spectacle surrounding any Spielberg film, he is one of the greats because of his understanding of people. And The Fabelmans is a sterling example of this.
#15 The Wonder
I tend to like a lot of obscure films. It’s one of the main reasons I put this list together every year—in the hopes that someone will read about a film they’d never heard of before and then seek it out. And there are plenty of obscure films I watch where I understand why it didn’t exactly find massive commercial appeal or rake in the awards. But occasionally there are great films which, in another world, I could see carrying a lot more clout and being Oscar contenders. One such film is The Wonder, directed by Sebastián Lelio and starring Florence Pugh in, what I think, is by far her strongest performance to date. Perhaps it was the bland title, perhaps it was overshadowed by another prestige Irish film, and perhaps it’s just that it was a Netflix film and they have a history of burying great films every year; whatever the reason, The Wonder is a gem that didn’t get the attention that it deserved. The Wonder follows Lib Wright (Pugh), a nurse in the 1800s who is hired by a village counsel to watch after Anna O’Donnell (Kíla Lord Cassidy). Anna has become something of a sensation for having supposedly lived for four months without eating anything. Lib’s job is to determine whether Anna is in fact eating and, if she is, how she has done so without being noticed. It's an intriguing premise—one which implicitly asks its audience at the outset to set aside their assumptions about the rules of reality. Lelio is a wonderful storyteller, and he guides his audience with an assured hand. What seems like a story with one mystery—is Anna eating or not—ends up being far more complex, and the central question ends up being almost irrelevant in the grand scheme of the story. It’s a story of morality and yes, wonder, and it’s an excellent cinematic puzzle that deserves to be sought out.
#14 Broker
A few years ago, director Hirokazu Kore-eda made a big impression with his film Shoplifters, earning the Palme d’Or at Cannes and an Oscar nomination for Best International Film. Given that film’s success, I’m surprised there hasn’t been more attention paid to his follow-up film, Broker. All of the strengths of Shoplifters are still on display here. It's another excellent tale of found family featuring tricky questions of morality, as well as some of the best performances of the year. Broker follows two friends (Song Kang-ho and Gang Dong-won) who have an illegal side business where they take babies that have been abandoned at a local church and sell them to perspective parents at for a profit. When a mother (Lee Ji-eun) who recently gave up her child finds out about their dealings, she accompanies them as they try to find a set of parents for her child. Meanwhile, the three find themselves under investigation by two detectives (Bae Doona and Lee Joo-young). Perhaps the greatest trick Kore-eda pulls off is that we don’t feel repulsed by the actions of our protagonists who…again…literally steal and sell babies. But Kore-eda is never interested in passing judgment on any of his characters. Rather, he’s interested in them as humans, not just in spite of their flaws but because of them. The result is that his films are character studies at their heart, and not just lectures on ethics. This approach makes Broker far more interesting, and allows its morals to be reflected on with greater complexity. It’s also a film that features some incredible performances. Lee Ji-eun is a singer making what I believe is her acting debut in this film, and she’s really remarkable here. As a mother who gives up her child, she has arguably the most difficult role to pull off with sensitivity, and she does so with grace. Bae Doona might be familiar to some international audiences for her work in Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, The Host, Sense8 and more, and she gives another excellent performance here in a role that could have been one note in another actor’s hands. But the standout, of course, is Song Kang-ho. Years ago, the Parasite star had already established himself as one of the best actors working today, but he still managed to surprise me with just how good he is here. There’s an ease to Song’s performance that allows him to disappear into the role, and he defies expectations as a character who is defiantly pleasant in the face of the harsh world of the film. Both his performance and the film as a whole are understated, but unforgettable.
#13 The Innocents
As far as horror films go, The Innocents isn’t one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen. But it is 100% one of the most disturbing. The film is about a group of neighborhood children who, while playing, discover they have some sort of supernatural abilities. Like all good films about children, The Innocents offers a great depiction of childlike curiosity and naivety. Of the children at the film’s core, there are ones that are purely, well, innocent, and there are ones who are clearly volatile and capable of great cruelty. But what writer/director Eskil Vogt does so well is capturing how that cruelty stems from its own kind of innocence. Whenever a child here does something villainous, I don’t feel like we’re supposed to feel like that child is evil. Rather, there’s a childlike purity to their emotions, and a youthful lack of understanding of the consequences of their actions. It’s a deft line to walk, and it’s what elevates The Innocents above other “evil child” films. It makes the story feel more real, which in turn makes the stakes feel more dangerous and urgent. Things that occur that would be simply disturbing in another film feel downright horrific here. The unease of watching young children in peril, let alone cause peril, is never not upsetting, and Vogt leans into that technique with devastating effect. None of this would work if not for the exemplary young cast, but they’re all pretty extraordinary, and have that natural quality that is present in all of the best performances from child actors. I don’t know if I could ever recommend watching The Innocents—you’re guaranteed a really bad time—but it’s masterfully constructed and evoked stronger feelings in me than almost any movie this year.
#12 Triangle of Sadness
Criticism of the wealthy and powerful has always been a present theme in art. This year saw a particularly high number of films critiquing the rich, but none were as strong nor as vicious as Triangle of Sadness. This year’s winner of the Palme d’Or is a trilogy of related films—all wildly different and all biting in their own way. The first segment is a two-hander about Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean), a pair of models who have a fight about relationship politics involving money and traditional gender norms. In the second segment, Carl and Yaya join a bunch of other wealthy people on a cruise ship which descends into the vacation from hell. In the third (and a bit of a spoiler here…) several of those cruise ship passengers have to survive on a deserted island, and find themselves deferring to the leadership of Abigail (Dolly de Leon), a former cleaner on the ship. One thing I love about the discussion surrounding Triangle of Sadness is that, unlike other films with a similar format, there’s no consensus about which is the “best” part of the film. There are champions of every single segment, which speaks to how just how strong this film is. If you think of the film as a triangle, each of the three segments are a different side. They exist on their own, but support each other and intersect in crucial and interesting ways. Personally, I think the first segment is very well-written, but is simply less dynamic than the other two portions which truly swing for the fences. The second segment is my personal favorite—the cruise ship setting is an amazing backdrop for this sort of commentary, and the way the literal turbulence of the waves mimics the emotional turbulence of the characters is genius. The whole thing culminates in an ill-fated dinner scene that is absolutely incredible. I’d heard about the scene and didn’t think I was going to care for it—without giving too much away, it has quite a bit of grossout humor that I typically don’t respond to. But I was surprised to find that I didn’t just like the scene, it was my favorite film scene of the year. Watching a woman in pearls chugging champagne through spasms of puking is the sort of on-the-nose metaphor we really need—just a beautiful piece of satirical slapstick, and the best use of vomit I’ve ever seen in a film. Plus, this second segment features one of the best bits of stunt casting in 2022, which I won’t ruin if you don’t know about it. The final segment of this cinematic triangle features a lot of great moments, but everything is overshadowed by the amazing performance of Dolly de Leon. In her 50s, de Leon gives the breakout performance of the year—a pure embodiment of righteous vengeance. Ultimately, Triangle of Sadness will not be for everybody. But it’s a film that will have at least SOME effect on anyone who watches it. It’s a film that has stayed with me, and one with images and ideas that I imagine will remain iconic for years to come.
#11 Prey
One of the most acclaimed films of 2022 was Top Gun: Maverick. The film was highly regarded in its for its striking visuals and emotional heft, but was particularly beloved for its role as a sequel. Many critics felt it not only matched, but surpassed the original beloved film in the franchise, breathing new life into the story, and refining the themes and motifs already present in the original. I liked Maverick well enough, but if there’s a franchise film that I feel deserved the reputation it received, it would be Dan Trachtenberg’s Prey, the fifth film in the Predator franchise. Although it did receive acclaim, this movie deserved far more attention. It's remarkable—an incredible action movie that carries true prestige clout. The film focuses on Naru (Amber Midthunder—a revelation), a young Comanche warrior who encounters a Yautja who comes to Earth well before the events of the previous films. It’s a confident take—one which revitalizes a franchise that had felt gimmicky early on. Prey examines the Predator concept at its very core, and in doing so creates a story that first-time viewers can enjoy without the context of the previous films, and that fans of the franchise can find satisfying in how it pertains to the rest of the mythology. I could see a whole series of films where the Predator squares off against warrior archetypes throughout history, but choosing a Comanche warrior was particularly brilliant. Not only is this a culture known for its hunting, but it’s a culture that has famously been the victim of persecution and genocide by settlers. It’s ripe for metaphor, and the film takes advantage of it (and addresses the persecution and murder by settlers head on). The filmmakers also treats its representation seriously (due in no small part to producer Jhane Myers, a member of both the Comanche and Blackfeet Nations) and there is painstaking detail put into creating historical accuracy—especially notable considering this is a fantasy film. As a hero, Naru is one of the great on-screen heroes of the year, and the rare horror film protagonist who is even more compelling than the villain. Prey is a smart film—an entertaining franchise film that is elevated by its craftsmanship and sense of purpose. It was one of the biggest surprises of the year for me, and I hope its success can influence similar films down the road.
I've already discussed twenty amazing films, and there are ten that I liked even more. Which ones will they be? Find out in part 2!
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