The Best Films of 2022: Part 2

And so continues my discussion of my favorite films of 2022! These are my esteemed Top 10. For #30-11, check out part 1 here!

#10 Skinamarink

The last film that I added to this list is Skinamarink—released just a few days ago, I considered saving it for 2023’s list, but given that it had already received considerable amount of buzz at the end of 2022, it felt worthy of inclusion now (and, let’s face it, the later Oscar date has truly fucked up the film release schedule beyond repair). Made with a budget of just $15,000, Skinamarink is a major success story in the world of independent film, and it’s been heartening to see an experimental film like this gain such widespread audience acclaim. In Skinamarink, two young children awaken to discover that their father has disappeared, along with all the windows and doors in the house. There is a plot to Skinamarink, but more than WHAT happens, what’s fascinating is HOW it happens. We almost never see the characters in Skinamarink on screen, and when we do it’s just in fragments—the back of a head, or the bottom of their legs. Most shots are of inanimate objects, and the camera is either still or panning very slowly. You’d think this would mean that most of the storytelling occurs through dialogue, but actually there’s very little dialogue in the movie, and much of it is garbled. The storytelling is communicated chiefly through ambience. Writer/director Kyle Edward Ball is clearly a champion of the idea that the scariest thing is the unknown. He gives us almost no information, and the beauty of this is that the information you DO get ends up carrying great weight. Ball gives us just enough to go on that a story and an inner mythology start to materialize. The rare moments that do advance the plot feel particularly significant, and are typically quite terrifying. In a great year for horror films, Skinamarink stands out as a film with a potential to truly be seen as one of the greats a few years down the line. It’s a surrealist nightmare—and a tale that demands to be experienced rather than simply watched.

 

#9 Argentina, 1985

 

The legal drama has been a tried-and-true film genre for decades. A courtroom is an inherently dramatic and evocative setting, and one that offers a clear opportunity for narrative structure. Argentina, 1985 is the in a long line of excellent courtroom genres in the cinematic canon, and while it doesn’t exactly redefine the genre, it’s a near perfect version of it. Argentina, 1985 tells the true story of what is known as the Trial of the Juntas—the first time in history that war crimes were tried in a civilian court. One of the things that director Santiago Mitre does really well here is make a complicated case feel very accessible. I knew almost nothing about this historic case before the film, yet never felt lost or bogged down by information. Mitre explains with perfect clarity not just what is happening in the film, but why it matters. The balance between facts and dramatic stakes is the secret to why this film is so effective—it tells the facts without getting mired down by them. And it never loses sight of the fact that it’s a story, so it’s entertaining as well as educational. The great Argentine actor Ricardo Darín leads a strong ensemble as prosecutor Julio César Strassera. It’s a role that’s pretty standard for this genre—the justice-minded Atticus Finch archetype, but Darín’s performance allows him to stand out as one of the best examples. His belief in right and wrong comes across not just as fuel for someone on a soapbox, but as a genuine necessity of life. He’s not just a lawyer, he faces genuine consequences for the outcome of this case, and his determination and strong moral compass make him one of the best on-screen heroes of 2022. Argentina, 1985 is expected to earn an Oscar nomination for Best International Film, but isn’t currently expected to win. But it’s such a crowd-pleaser that I could see it pulling a major upset, as it recently did at the Golden Globes. For fans of the courtroom drama, Argentina, 1985 is a must-see. For those who are not already fans of the genre, Argentina, 1985 is exceptional enough to make them a convert.

 

#8 The House

 

2022 was a phenomenal year for animation. Right at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, producers started investing in animation, as it was easier to make than live-action projects, and I think we’ve started to see the result of that investment this year. The animated films from major studios seemed to just be of a more consistently high quality in 2022, and the world of independent animated film had one of its strongest years in a long time. But out of all of the great animated films from this year, my favorite was by far The House, an anthology film that was sadly buried by Netflix (who didn’t even submit it for the Oscars, and barely campaigned for it for the Emmys). Written by celebrated author Enda Walsh, The House tells three separate stories—each one taking place at a different time and in seemingly a different dimension—but all three are set inside of what appears to be the same house, and all three are weird and wonderful. The three segments are made by different animators from around Europe; collaborators Emma de Swaef and Marc James Roels from Belgium, Niki Lindroth von Bahr from Switzerland, and Paloma Baeza from Britain. While not exactly household names, these four are heavy-hitters in the world of indie animation—they have distinct styles and eccentric sensibilities. While each of these animators are very different, they’re clearly cut from the same cloth, and it’s the collaboration between these distinct sections that makes The House work so well. All three of the segments would be great as their own short films, but they work even better as parts of an intriguing whole. When viewed as a singular piece, themes become motifs, and something that was once interesting suddenly becomes poignant.

 

 

Lindroth von Bahr is known for her strange short films featuring anthropomorphized animals, and she continues that trend here. Her segment tells the story of a real estate developer (who happens to be a rat) whose dreams of selling the titular house for profit hits a snag when he discovers it is infested by insects. As the infestation gets worse, the developer’s life begins to crumble around him. It’s unnerving—to the point that a musical number performed by hundreds of beetles and larvae is the LEAST disturbing thing to happen during the segment. And an unsettling pair of potential buyers who take up residence in the house might be two of the most skin-crawling creations to be on screen this entire year. Baeza’s segment also uses animals as characters—this time, they’re cats—and focuses on a landlady desperately trying to renovate the house, despite it being abandoned due to an apocalyptic flood. Desperate and dramatic, of the three segments, it’s the one least firmly rooted in the horror genre, yet there’s an undeniable anxiety running through the segment that’s nonetheless captivating to watch. I like both of these segments, a lot, but my favorite was undeniably the first segment, courtesy of de Swaef and Roels. I’ve been a fan of this duo for a few years now, first learning about them from their excellent film This Magnificent Cake! and their segment is an absolute masterpiece. The only part of The House to feature human characters, it tells the story of Mabel (voiced by 2022 horror standout Mia Goth), a young girl whose family moves into a newly decorated mansion designed by the mysterious architect Mr. Van Schoonbeek. To Mabel’s shock, her family seems oblivious to the strange goings-on in the house upon their arrival. To say more would be a disservice to this simple, but undeniably effective film, which has become one of my favorite haunted house stories I’ve ever seen. The animation uses the soft felt puppets that de Swaef and Roels are known for, and the pleasing style creates an interesting juxtaposition with the terrifying events that unfold. It’s creepy, but it’s also cozy, in the way you want from a ghost story told around a campfire. And ultimately, that’s what The House is. It’s a series of stories—exceptionally and memorably told. And it does so while showcasing what the world of animation has to offer beyond the world of Disney and Pixar.

 

#7 Women Talking

 The first round of awards buzz typically happens during film festivals, as critical response gives an indication of which films have the early clout to be in Oscars contention. Of course, every year, there are a few early frontrunners that lose momentum and seem to fall out of the conversation by the time the Oscars actually comes around. Unfortunately, that appears to be the fate of Women Talking, which seemed like a Best Picture lock a couple of months ago but its awards potential has all but failed to materialize. This is a shame, because not only is it a strong film, it’s an essential one. Inspired by real-life events, and based off of the novel by Miriam Toews, Women Talking takes place in an isolated Mennonite community. The women and girls of the community have, for years, been drugged and raped at night, and then gaslit about the incident in the morning. When the truth comes to light, all of the women meet in secret to debate what they should do; do nothing, stay and fight, or leave. On the one hand, I can understand how the film might be too wordy to be accessible to a larger audience, but I also don’t understand how anyone could not be invested in the subsequent debate, or engrossed in the high stakes hinging on its outcome, where these women’s lives hang in the balance. It’s heavy material, but it’s thrilling and genuinely cinematic. Writer/director Sarah Polley is firing on all cylinders here, and not a single moment feels out of place. I was particularly taken by the sense of space within Women Talking. Much of the film takes place in one room, but that room proves remarkably versatile. When needed, it can feel claustrophobic, and a reminder of how trapped these women feel. But at times it can feel expansive—this room is also a place for these women to speak freely, and it serves as an opportunity for genuine escape. It’s a small film, but the attention paid to little details means that it’s able to communicate the big ideas at its core.

 

You also cannot discuss Women Talking without talking about the amazing ensemble cast. Any film like this will live or die by its cast, and every single person pulls their weight. This is a dream script for any actor—every single character is given moments to shine, and each one feels fully realized and full of depth. No character is defined by a single emotion; there isn’t “the angry one,” or “the sad one,” or “the logical one” or anything like that. Instead, each performer finds nuance, and allows their role to live between the emotional lines. And not every emotion has to be negative—within Women Talking there are moments of levity and joy and humor, despite the decidedly heavy material. This sincere understanding of humanity is partly why Women Talking never feels like a lecture. It’s a satisfying story and one of the most important films of 2022, whether it does well on Oscar night or not.

 

#6 Hit the Road

 

The family road trip film is a tried-and-true genre. A road trip is a literal journey, providing a clear sense of time for a film. The claustrophobia of a family trapped in one vehicle is a great catalyst for drama, and the fact that the characters are on the move gives a filmmaker an opportunity to play with new and interesting locations. It’s not a genre that frequently lends itself to experimentation, which makes it particularly remarkable to watch Panah Panahi completely turn the genre on its head with his debut film, Hit the Road. In this film, a family of four drives across the Iranian countryside. There’s the level-headed mother (Pantea Panahiha), cantankerous father (Hassan Madjooni), jaded adult son Farid (Amin Simiar), and his boisterous 6-year-old younger brother (Rayan Sarlak). The film proceeds like a typical family drama. The dad is funny and clearly grumpy about the length of the trip, the kid is adorable, they all sing and dance and banter and just generally feel like a real family. But it’s clear that Farid’s head is in another place—the only hint to the serious matters that the film will be addressing over the course of its journey. No one should be surprised by the political undercurrent that appears in Hit the Road. Panah Panahi’s father, Jafar Panahi, is one of the great figures in Iranian cinema, and has long faced persecution from the government for the content of his films—he’s been imposed with a 20-year filmmaking ban, and is currently in prison in Tehran. I’ll actually talk quite a bit more about Jafar Panahi later on in this list (spoiler alert, I guess), but needless to say, there is more to this road trip than meets the eye. Panah Panahi is a less experimental filmmaker than his father, but still showcases an assured and distinct vision behind the camera, one that is just as bold and politically-minded as his father’s.

 

The beauty of Hit the Road lies in the mundane. Even as we learn more about the context of this road trip, the characters rarely betray just how extreme the situation is. There’s a casual acceptance of it all, which betrays itself primarily in a bitterness behind the eyes of the two parents. The whole cast is strong, but Panahiha and Madjooni are truly exceptional. Madjooni is obviously a source of comic relief, but his goofiness can turn on a dime. It ends up being a wonderfully tragicomic performance, one chock full of weary anger. Panahiha is maybe the soul of the film. Her performance as the mother displays a great deal of strength, as the family member the others look towards to keep it all from falling apart. There’s a great deal of restraint to Panahiha’s performance (there’s a notable line where she says to herself, “I think I’m losing it” as calmly as if she were saying "I need to buy bread") which makes the moments where the cracks begin to show really pop. It’s an emotionally rich performance that is undeniably affecting. Running in parallel with these performances, Panah Panahi occasionally breaks from the grounded slice-of-life nature of most of the film and enters the world of surrealism—to great effect. In these moments where the film breaks from the narrative forms we’ve come to expect, Panahi is teasing us, inviting us to escape from the harsh realities of the world he’s depicting…which makes Hit the Road all the more compelling when he brings us back down to earth. Hit the Road is a journey worth taking, and a promising start for a filmmaker already stepping out of his father’s considerable shadow.

 

#5 Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes

There is no movie I’ve recommended to other people this year more than Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes. I was first intrigued by it when I heard it compared to another Japanese film One Cut of the Dead, one of my favorite films of the last few years. Both films have a simple premise, but follow that premise to the fullest, with excellent results. In Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes, a man discovers that, through his computer, he can have a chat with himself two minutes into the future. The film then progresses in seemingly one take, with us seeing those two minutes again...while simultaneously seeing what the NEXT two minutes will be. It’s somewhat difficult to explain without seeing it, but director Junta Yamaguchi and writer Makoto Ueda make it very clear and easy to understand on the screen. Within, well, two minutes, I was already hooked and excited to see how it would progress. The film never brings up questions like how or why this is happening, and by not getting bogged down by those reasons, it allows us to explore the concept of the narrative to its fullest. As the film goes on, the mechanics of time become increasingly complex, and the glimpses into the future paint an increasingly dire picture of what will happen. It can become very slapstick—a time travel version of characters running through a series of corridor doors—but it somehow creates genuine suspense and intrigue. The screenplay is an unbelievably elaborate puzzle box, as it literally has to answer one question but raise another every two minutes. It’s fast-paced and brilliant—and I can guarantee will surprise anyone who watches it. Ultimately, the thing that makes Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes succeed is that it’s wonderfully unpretentious. In an era where sci-fi can at times be incredibly self-serious, and there’s an expectation of exploring grand themes at every point (sometimes to great success, sometimes not) I found Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes to be incredibly refreshing. It takes the idea at its core incredibly seriously, but doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s whimsical and unassuming, and one of the most original movies of the year.

 

#4 The Eternal Daughter

One of my favorite conceits in storytelling is when a ghost story is told outside of the genre of horror. Ghosts and hauntings and the burdens of the past are all such intriguing ideas that it’s a shame they’re typically relegated to just one genre. The Eternal Daughter makes a strong case for more films like itself. It’s a gothic drama, and an eerie reflection on memory, loneliness, and inspiration. Tilda Swinton plays Julie Hart, a filmmaker who travels with her mother Rosalind (also played by Tilda Swinton) to a remote hotel that happened to be Rosalind’s former home. It’s a chance for the two to grow closer, and Julie hopes that the trip will allow her to write a screenplay based on her mother’s life. Suffice it to say, it doesn’t take long into their trip before some weird stuff starts happening. If ghosts are tied to unresolved business, then it’s clear this house is cursed with an aura of dissatisfaction. There’s a lot of cliché things going bump in the night—the sound of a woman crying even though she isn’t there, too loud winds and creaking hallways, a not insignificant amount of fog—but the cliché nature of it is kind of the point. Filmmaker Joanna Hogg is not trying to reinvent the ghost story, rather she’s using the familiar tropes of the genre as an atmospheric backdrop, allowing the more pressing and real ghosts of the past to come to the forefront. The spookier everything around the mother and daughter gets, the sadder and more brutal Rosalind’s memories about the place become—the unfortunate recollections of the past propelling the story to a darker and darker place.

 

And as much as The Eternal Daughter is a ghost story, it’s also a story about writing and the artistic process. Yet, for a story about writing, very little writing takes place. Despite her best efforts, Julie is increasingly distracted and restless. The more material her mother gives her, the less she seems capable of writing it. Whether overwhelmed by the revelations about her mother’s life, or unnerved by the strange goings-on, Julie seems haunted something of her own which is preventing her from the task she set out to do. Writing and ghost stories have often gone hand in hand. While it doesn’t go in the same violent direction, The Eternal Daughter reminded me of The Shining in how it reconciles personal disquiet and unease with an inability to produce creatively. Like any good ghost story, The Eternal Daughter is all along leading towards a very distinct conclusion—and what a great conclusion it is. It would be a disservice to say more, but this was one of my favorite film endings of 2022. It’s an ending that answers questions just as it raises more. It’s a film that is deceptively simple—so bare bones that it feels like there is nothing to hide, which then begs for a second viewing when its secrets are revealed to have been lurking in the shadows all along.

 

#3 No Bears

 

Every year, there are lots of musings about the state of the industry, typically on the basis of box office performance. Ever since COVID became a global presence nearly three years ago, this sort of analysis has become only more pronounced, as movie theaters as a venue continue to feel the effects of the pandemic in a more pronounced way. Much of this discussion feels reductive to me, and demonstrates a narrow view of what the movie industry actually is. Films like Top Gun: Maverick and Avatar: The Way of Water are spoken of as if they’re essentially indie darlings by virtue of not being in the MCU (despite the fact that both are sequels of popular existing properties). What’s lost in all of this discussion is that film is not just an industry, it is an artform. Every article that bemoans the end of film as we know it ignores the fact that film will endure as long as there are filmmakers. There might need to be a change in the way that films are made and the way they are distributed, but as long as cameras exist, there will be movies. No film this year proves this more than No Bears, and no filmmaker proves this more than its brilliant director Jafar Panahi—my favorite director working today.

 

Panahi is an Iranian director, known for his strong political and cultural commentary. That commentary got him in trouble, and back in 2010 he was arrested on charges of propaganda against the Iranian government, and imposed with a 20-year filmmaking ban. Since then, he has continued to work under miraculous circumstances, creating several films in secret. His first secret film, entitled This Is Not a Film, was famously smuggled out of Iran and to the Cannes Film Festival on a USB drive hidden inside of a cake. No Bears is his fifth feature film since his ban, and like in the four before it, Panahi plays a version of himself. This time, the premise is that Panahi is living in a small village near the border of Iran and Turkey, remotely directing a film where the rest of the cast and crew is on the other side of the border. His presence is a puzzling one in the village. Surely he’d have more comforts (and better wifi signal) at his home in Tehran, so why is he there? Mirroring the real-life allegations against him, the village becomes quickly suspicious of Panahi’s intentions, and how those intentions might conflict with the societal mores of the town. Meanwhile, Panahi’s film-within-a-film runs into complications when the plot—about a couple attempting to cross the border—turns out to have more relevance than expected with the cast. As always, Panahi experiments with the blurred line between reality and fiction in a compelling and powerful way. All of the themes in Panahi’s previous works are present here—his commentary on the Iranian government’s tyrannical censorship is as sharp as ever—but there’s a certain quality to No Bears that makes it feel like his most self-reflective work to date. The mere existence of this film is a bold statement, but he feels more fed up with it all than he ever has before. While none of his films have been particularly joyous, there was a certain cheeky revolutionary spirit to them that manifests itself differently here. A weary sadness fills No Bears with an exasperated urgency that is compelling and powerful. For his part, Panahi gives his best performance yet, feeling like a bona fide actor and not just an intriguing presence. In the tragic final moments of the film, the character of Panahi seems to grapple with the importance of the choices he has made. Is this film important? Will it make a difference? Is it worth it even if things don’t change? The answer to all three of those questions, I believe, is yes. In July, Panahi was arrested alongside other filmmakers, and has remained in prison in Tehran, with little news about when or if a release can be expected. This to me is what film is about. If Panahi is willing to go to jail and risk his life to make No Bears, the industry can deal with “underperformance” at the box office. Panahi is one of the most vital artists and commentators working today. His future may be uncertain, and who knows when or if he will make another film. But if he is able to, he will, and we are all the better for it.

 

#2 Everything Everywhere All at Once

 One of the biggest and earliest surprises of the year in film was the success of Everything Everywhere All at Once. It became a hit with both audiences and critics, despite not being a part of a franchise, and despite coming from two filmmakers whose last movie was a little-seen indie about a farting corpse. It led to many think-pieces on why exactly people seemed to respond to this particular film so much, and what became clear is that there wasn’t a consensus as to what one thing made this film so beloved. Everyone who loves it has their own reason for doing so. Fitting for the title, the story is so richly layered that there are different things to latch onto. It’s about so many themes and explores so many ideas (and does so really well, in fact) that it’s a bit like a cinematic Rorschach Test: the movie serves whatever purpose you need it to in that moment. And it does so while featuring dildoes and hot dog fingers and an ominous bagel, and fanny packs, and a raccoon chef. It’s wacky, it's deep, and it’s an artistic tour de force that deserves every accolade it has received.

 

For anyone who somehow hasn’t seen it, the film follows Evelyn Quan Wang (Michelle Yeoh), a laundromat owner who suddenly discovers that the universe as we know it is under attack and she might be the only person who can save it. To do so, she must tap into other versions of herself from other dimensions—and was specifically chosen because she was the least remarkable version of herself, and therefore the one with the most potential. This is such an intriguing idea, and I love the way the film examines the idea of potential and what can make us special. While the film resonated with audiences of every demographic, it can’t be ignored that at its heart, this is a story about immigrants, and the story of sacrifice that Evelyn had to make is incredibly purposeful. The fact that she gave so much up is what makes her so special, and that’s beautiful. And, as the film makes particularly clear, the life that sacrifice leads to is in no way one to be ashamed of, and is one that in another world, might even be desirable. It’s just one of the beautiful ideas that this film examines and, while I can’t go into all of them (I’m already just barely finishing this list…) it’s one I feel is essential to the film’s success, and you can’t discuss the movie without at least mentioning it.

 

The story is wonderful, but everything about the film backs it up. Despite working at a fraction of the budget of other blockbuster movies this year, Everything Everywhere All at Once is one of the best technical achievements of the year, with the editing in particular being shockingly good. And, of course, there are some amazing performances. Ke Huy Quan and Stephanie Hsu in particular give incredible performances that in any other movie would have been the best performance in the film. But, like any good supporting performance, the achievements of their performances do not overshadow those of Michelle Yeoh’s. This is the performance of the year, and an incredible showcase for an actor of this caliber who has still never quite gotten her due internationally. This movie would be worth seeing just for Yeoh. Luckily, she has a film bold enough to back up her formidable work.

 

#1 The Banshees of Inisherin

 

Years before Martin McDonagh ever became a filmmaker, I saw his play The Pillowman and it changed my life. It made me reassess what comedy, and what storytelling as a whole, could accomplish. I instantly bought all of his plays up until that point, and almost immediately regarded him as one of my favorite writers. So it is not necessarily surprising that I’ve picked The Banshees of Inisherin as the best film of 2022. Not only that, I think it is his best film to date, and feels like the perfect culmination of his nearly 30-year career as a storyteller in the public eye.

 

The Banshees of Inisherin follows Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell at his most endearing), a sweet man who is confused by a sudden and seemingly reasonless falling out with his former best friend, musician Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson). The rural Irish setting is one that McDonagh has not featured in any of his films before, but it is one that he knows well, as his first five stage plays are also set on remote Irish islands. The Banshees of Inisherin therefore feels a bit like a return home for McDonagh, and it is a welcome one. There was a time when an Irish dialect was basically synonymous with his work. While McDonagh’s distinct writing style can work for anyone, its distinct rhythms lend themselves particularly well to a lilting Irish dialect. While American actors have given great performances using McDonagh’s words, compare them to the Irish actors and you really hear how these words were intended to be said. From a thematic standpoint, it also feels particularly pointed for McDonagh to make an Irish film right now. All of his plays set in Ireland were written before the IRA laid down arms, and the undercurrent of tension surrounding the country is a huge part of their atmosphere. By returning to Ireland after all this time, McDonagh addresses the topic of “The Troubles” more directly than he ever has before, which ironically allows it to feel more universal. It’s a film about the Irish Civil War, yes, but it’s also about humanity in general. His work is always whimsically dark and violent, but The Banshees of Inisherin feels especially insightful, and even poetic at times.

 

But for all of this talk about how profound The Banshees of Inisherin is, it shouldn’t be forgotten that it’s also just a really enjoyable film. McDonagh’s stories are always meticulously crafted, with little breadcrumbs left along the way ultimately leading to a big payoff. It’s entertaining, and also hilarious! As much as it affected me on a deeper level, The Banshees of Inisherin also had me laughing out loud for most of it. It’s my personal favorite film of the year because nothing ever felt out of place. Every aspect of this film is in sync—the performances, the script, the score, the cinematography, even the many farm animals. It’s a new fairy tale, as grim as they come, and a film that feels practically perfect in every way.

 

 

 

There you have it! Those are my favorite films of 2022. It's been a phenomenal year for film, and I can't wait to see what 2023 brings. Be sure to check out my list of my 100 favorite performances of the year, and check this space again in March where I'll once again be doing my annual Oscars predictions! And, remember, keep watching great movies!