Here it is—at long last, I present to you my picks for the Top 30 Films of 2023. I’ve seen many commentators talk about how this was a particularly great year for movies, which is an odd statement to me. It’s been a great year for movies, sure, but every year offers some great films if you know where to look. I happen to think this WAS a particularly great year for movies, but I have found my tastes in films in 2023 more at odds with the critical consensus than normal. While my picks tend to have their share of more “obscure” titles and underrated gems, it has felt like this year there were more than normal, with plenty of phenomenal films that didn’t get the attention they deserved. As many celebrate the return of the blockbuster, 2023 was a great year for independent film for me, and I hope that several of the films I’ve listed here pique your interest and can gain some attention in future years. So let’s begin the list! And despite what I’ve just said, we’ll be starting with what was undoubtedly one the biggest films of the year…
30) Barbie
Given Barbie’s success with both audiences and critics, it’s easy to forget just how unlikely this movie was to be a critical darling. When rumors of a Barbie movie were first going around years ago, the project was a thing of ridicule, and seen as the epitome of Hollywood’s lack of original ideas. If we’re being honest, we have to acknowledge that Barbie really is just one giant commercial for Mattel…but what a great commercial it is! What Greta Gerwig has done with the concept of Barbie is absolutely brilliant—it’s a film that is insightful, playful, and inexplicably manages to feel genuinely original. Gerwig and her team of designers have created one of the best fantasy worlds in recent cinematic history—one that feels fully realized and accessible to audience members with various levels of familiarity with Barbies. There’s a lot going on in Barbie—it’s genuinely one of the funniest comedies of the year, but is also an epic adventure film, a heartfelt examination of the patriarchy, a visual wonder, and kind of a musical. Gerwig manages to not only pull off each of the film’s many aspects, but make them feel cohesive so that no moment of Barbie feels out of place with any other. Barbie may not be a perfect movie, but it’s hands down the most ambitious film of the year, and a truly remarkable accomplishment which defied expectations and earned every ounce of its critical and commercial success.
29) Reality
If you don’t know the story of Reality Winner by now, it’s definitely worth learning about her. Winner—at the time, an NSA translator— was arrested in 2018 and sentenced to jailtime for leaking classified information to the press about Russia’s interference in the 2016 United States presidential election. Seemingly in an effort to make an example out of her actions, Winner was given a disproportionate sentence of over five years—the longest sentence for such a felony ever imposed in judicial history. Winner’s case has been examined quite a bit—there’s a documentary and several TV shows have done profiles about her. But Reality is one of the most intriguing and innovative tellings of Winner’s story. The dialogue that comprises the script is taken verbatim from the FBI transcript of Winner’s arrest, detailing the ways in which Winner incriminated herself, and showing what presents itself as an honest depiction of her actions and feelings in those crucial moments. Writer and director Tina Satter first explored this idea with her play Is This a Room, which eventually played a limited run on Broadway and is one of the best pieces of theatre I’ve seen in recent years. And while the stage version was stronger in my opinion, Reality is nonetheless a fascination adaptation of this transcript, and a powerful and riveting thriller. What I love about this type of verbatim work is how strange such dialogue is inevitably going to sound. When words aren’t carefully composed and edited by a screenwriter, the language inevitably feels off in some way, despite it being so true to life. Satter leans into this surrealism, and succeeds in making the mundane feel nightmarish. The cast, for their part, are all phenomenal, with current showbiz “It-Girl” Sydney Sweeney delivering the best and most interesting performance of her career thus far as Winner.
28) Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls
Certainly a contender for the best title of the year, Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls already has the feel of a cult classic. At the start of the film, Onyx is still living in his childhood home and working a humiliating job flipping burgers for bullies. But everything turns around for him when he wins a contest thrown by the sorcerer Bartok the Great to gather at his mansion with other lucky winners to help him complete an important ritual (think Willy Wonka but for satanists). Onyx is over the moon, but when he arrives for the ritual it immediately becomes clear that the invited guests have not been told the full story, and a prophecy implies that Onyx is the one who must rise up and save the world. I hadn’t known about the character of Onyx the Fortuitous until watching this film, but filmmaker Andrew Bowser has been playing this character for years in a series of viral videos from wonderfully weird corners of the internet. But it’s immediately understandable to me why this character has developed a following. Nerdy and awkward, Bowser’s characterization of Onyx is so specific and so odd that it’s impossible to not find him compelling. To be honest, it’s the type of character that I wouldn’t have thought could sustain a feature-length film (and if you find the character grating at the start, my guess is this film is quite simply not going to be your cup of tea) but I was amazed at not just how funny Onyx continued to be, but just how satisfying the film ended up being. One of my favorite things about Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls is that, while crucial bits of the film’s mythology are spelled out, many of the details happen off-screen. The whole point of Onyx is that he’s not a natural hero, but he’s the one who fate has chosen. And as other more naturally heroic characters piece together the film’s central puzzle, we are given just enough information to glean what’s going on while the film hints at a grander lore just out of sight. It’s some really interesting storytelling, and part of a deliberate story which leads to a genuinely touching climactic battle scene. Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls frankly feels like it has no right to be as great as it is—a film that could have simply been a grand old time mines far more emotional insight and nuance than you would expect, and we are all the better for it. Throw in a great cast who is having fun in every single frame and some of the most delightful practical visual effects in any movie this year, and Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls is a film as winning and full of surprises as its titular character. The ending very much sets up the potential for a franchise, and I for one would be on board for any and all future stories in the Onyx the Fortuitous universe.
27) Talk to Me
Talk to Me might not be breaking any ground in the world of horror, but sometimes it’s just nice to see a really, really, really well-made horror film. Talk to Me follows Mia (Sophie Wilde), a teenager still trying to cope with the death of her mother from two years ago. She learns of the latest activity being done at all of the parties thrown by the “cool kids”—letting the spirits of the dead inhabit you by touching an enchanted ceramic hand. When Mia tries it out, she finds the experience exhilarating, and grows increasingly fascinated when she discovers the possibility of using the hand to communicate with her mother. This is a film with a lot of genre savvy, and it plays up a lot of genre tropes, like teenagers making bad decisions at every turn. But Talk to Me actually gives some great context for WHY its characters are making such bad decisions. These are teenagers after all, and even as the dangers of such an activity become increasingly apparent to us as a viewer, the sheer thrill the characters seem to get out of it feels completely natural and understandable within the context of the film. Mia’s own fascination with using The Hand is even more understandable—it is a story about how grief can cause us to act out in self-destructive ways. The hand becomes a very clear but compelling parallel for drug use, and is sympathetic towards Mia’s downward spiral while still showing the danger of it. Wilde is phenomenal here, and I imagine this movie is just the start of a long film career for her—she’s incredibly expressive, and can turn from wide-eyed innocence to monstrous menace on a dime. And the filmmaking from brothers Danny and Michael Philippou is exceptional. The sequences where the characters communicate with the dead are exceptional, and manages to show us the appeal of such an activity for the characters even as we dread the consequences that will soon become apparent. Talk to Me is entertaining enough to be accessible to any audience member, while still carrying the emotional heft of what has become known as “arthouse horror,” and is an instant classic in the world of contemporary horror.
26) Smoking Causes Coughing
Quentin Dupieux, if nothing else, has one of the strongest artistic viewpoints of any director working today. Dupieux is a true Dadaist—his work is ridiculous for its own sake, and frequently defies the idea that a film has to have a reason or purpose. It means that his work can be inconsistent, but is always imaginative and provocative—he’s like the rebel clown of the cinematic world. He’s also prolific, releasing two feature films this year. One was the delightful modern fable Incredible but True, which I enjoyed quite a bit. But Smoking Causes Coughing has become one of my favorite films in Dupieux’s filmography, and I think would serve as a great introduction for anyone interested in his work. In true Dupieux fashion, this film isn’t really about anything, but it is centered around the members of a Power Rangers-esque superhero troupe known as Tobacco Force (despite the name, they’re wholeheartedly AGAINST smoking). After their latest victorious battle against a giant turtle, their boss Chief Didier (a truly disgusting rat monster puppet) sends them on a work retreat to improve group cohesion. But their attempts at group bonding repeatedly get derailed by a series of strange stories, including one told by a fish. An anthology film like this is the perfect showing for an anti-filmmaker like Dupieux, allowing the frantic nature of his style to feel appropriate while he fully explores the playground in his mind. Silly and indescribably, Smoking Causes Coughing is unforgettable and absolutely unlike anything else from this or any other year.
25) The Zone of Interest
The feel-bad film of the year, The Zone of Interest deserves all of the acclaim it has received for its storytelling technique alone. The film examines Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), the notorious Nazi officer who was the longest-serving commandant at Auschwitz. During his time in the position, his family lived right next to the camp, aware of but not engaging with the horrific things taking place just over the wall. Writer and director Jonathan Glazer has made a film that shows an almost otherworldly level of patience and restraint—if you aren’t paying attention, it can feel like absolutely nothing is happening in most scenes. But Glazer also has a great amount of trust in his audience, and earns said trust with every moment of the film. The lack of action is, of course, the very point of the film—the mundanity of the Höss family’s life juxtaposed with what we know is happening just off-screen. Glazer manages to depict the Höss family as human without humanizing them—in fact, the more normal they act, the more monstrous their behavior seems. The moments where the cast directly acknowledges the horrors of Auschwitz are few, but when they come they are undeniably chilling. One of the most evil moments of the film (and, frankly, of any film) comes in a scene where, after receiving bad news at breakfast, Rudolf’s wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) threatens a Jewish housekeeper by saying, “I could have my husband spread your ashes across the fields of Barbice.” Outside of these scant moments, however, most of the evil of the film is apparent almost solely through the film’s masterful sound design. There’s a near-constant backdrop of noise in the background—the sounds of trains, the sounds of screaming, the sound of heavy machinery, etc. It makes the off-screen setting omnipresent, and the lack of acknowledgement of it particularly deafening. Perhaps most unsettling of all, as the film goes on, you as an audience member grow accustomed to the nightmarish soundscape, just as the family itself must have—putting one in an uncomfortable position every time you’re reminded of what you’ve been hearing. It’s difficult at this point to make a film that feels like it says something new about the Holocaust, but The Zone of Interest undeniably does. It’s horrific and unforgettable—a devastating film that is difficult to watch, but nonetheless demands to be seen.
24) Rotting in the Sun
I’ll admit to not being sold on Rotting in the Sun for the first half of the movie. Writer and director Sebastián Silva stars as, well, a filmmaker named Sebastián Silva who is struggling with depression and trying to find inspiration for his next project. I’m not sure how much the character of Sebastián Silva is like the real life version, but he’s pretty insufferable in the film—self-destructive and sullen, he actively pushes away the people in his life and, in turn, the audience. I didn’t know much about the film going into it, but knew it had gotten praise and been designated “a future cult classic,” and I was incredibly confused as to why. And then, without giving much away, something happens that completely changes the course of the film. It was like a magic trick—suddenly the purpose of the film up until that point came into sharp focus, and I was hooked. I don’t want to say much more than that, because Rotting in the Sun is a film that understands its shock value better than maybe any film I’ve ever seen, and leads down a path that is suspenseful and delightful in equal measure. I can’t guarantee everyone will love this film, but I promise it will surprise you (as long as you stick with it). I do have to give some shoutouts to the performances. Actor and social media comedian Jordan Firstman, like Silva, plays a gleefully vapid version of himself that is a lot of fun to watch. But the film belongs to scene-stealer Catalina Saavedra as Silva’s housekeeper Vero. This is hands down one of the best performances of the year. Starting off in the background of the film, she’s already fascinating to watch, but as Vero becomes an increasingly entwined in the movie’s nefarious doings, she becomes transcendent. Vero’s actions often feel cartoonish, yet Saavedra’s performance is so natural that you never second-guess them. It’s a hilarious performance that truly is the heart of this film, and it’s worth watching just to watch Saavedra in action.
23) She Came to Me
An operetta composer with writers’ block. A psychiatrist with aspirations to become a nun and a story to tell involving kreplach. An officious lawyer who loves arbitrary rules almost as much as he loves Civil War reenactments. A tugboat captain with a self-proclaimed addiction to romance who seduces men in bars. A French Bulldog with a keen sense of direction. These are just some of the ensemble cast of characters whose lives intertwine in She Came to Me, the latest film from Rebecca Miller. This film received mixed reviews upon its release, but I for one was utterly charmed by it—the musings on love were unexpectedly poignant, and the ensemble cast was one of the best of the year. To say too much about the plot would be a shame, as much of the delight comes from the ways the lives of the principal characters intersect in unforeseen ways, but like any good story of this nature, Miller’s script is meticulous—it keeps you guessing as to what will happen before culminating in an end that feels absolutely correct. It’s a very sweet film, bolstered by some excellent work. In the sprawling cast, Peter Dinklage is the de fact leading actor, and plays Steven, the aforementioned operetta composer with writers’ block. Steven is plagued by anxiety and indecision and spends much of the film wallowing in his own misery. One of Dinklage’s great strengths as an actor is his ability to make you want to root for him—he doesn’t shy away from Steven’s worst qualities, and is often sullen to the point of being unbearable, and yet you immediately buy him as a true tortured genius, and always root for him to recognize his own self-worth. Anne Hathaway gives what is probably her funniest performance to date in a role that is deceptively composed until the moments that she gets to absolutely let loose (you can tell Hathaway is having an absolute blast). Brian d’Arcy James is insufferable in the best way, and Cold War’s Joanna Kulig gives a compassionate and unpretentious performance in what I believe is her English-language film debut. But if there’s a standout in this cast, it has to be Marisa Tomei, who gives what would have been an Oscar-worthy performance had the film gotten the more positive reception it deserved. She’s truly magnetic, and you can understand why other characters in the film would be drawn to her and won over by her significant charm. It’s a role that, frankly, could have been a mess—she’s dangerously close to being some sort of “crazy stalker” trope—but Tomei rises above the expected portrayal of such a role, and succeeds in making her feel lived-in, and avoids making her an object of ridicule. While Tomei doesn’t have the most screentime, she’s the center of the delightful puzzle that is She Came To Me, and it’s wonderful to watch this film’s mysteries swirl around her scene after scene.
22) Anatomy of a Fall
Palme d’or winner Anatomy of a Fall might not be the most groundbreaking film, but it is a near-perfect example of how great a legal thriller can be. It’s smart, gripping, and filled with increasingly satisfying twists and turns. The film follows the trial of Sandra Voyter (Sandra Hüller) who is charged with murdering her husband, who either fell, jumped, or was pushed from the attic of his home. As the trial continues, secrets regarding Sandra’s life and marriage come to light, raising questions about her morality and innocence. As much as the film is about the central court case, the truth behind the death isn’t ultimately important—the film, in fact, doesn’t definitively answer the question of Sandra’s innocence one way or the other, although I feel pretty strongly in what I feel happened. Instead, the most important decision in regards to what actually happened lands on Sandra’s son Daniel (Milo Machado Graner), allowing the film to shift the public trial into the realm of the personal. It’s a question of the messiness of human relations, and the dangers of intimate details getting thrust into a public light. Anatomy of a Fall, of course, would not work without Hüller’s performance. The film requires a degree of ambiguity, and Hüller always makes us believe that Sandra might be capable of committing this crime. But we equally believe that Sandra would never do such a thing, and Hüller resists any urge to play the quality of “suspicious” in her performance. Anatomy of a Fall is suspenseful, meticulous, and haunting, and will forever be regarded as a future classic in its genre.
21) Perfect Days
Simplicity is a difficult thing quality to have in a film. When a film is too simplistic, it can sometimes feel like, well, nothing is happening. But when a “simple” film actually has something to say, it can be a thing of beauty. Such is the case with Perfect Days, Japan’s submission to the Oscars this year about a man named Hirayama (Kōji Yakusho) who works as a toilet cleaner in Tokyo. The film only takes place over the course of a few days, during which we observe Hirayama’s life and become familiar with his daily routines. And while few would argue that his days are as perfect as the title suggests, it’s clear Hirayama takes pride in his work and is content with the life he’s leading. Of course, as the film goes on, we learn a bit more about his life and history, and see his frustrations at daily obstacles that pop up. These obstacles vary in terms of how significantly they affect Hirayama, but director Wim Wenders (who co-wrote the script with Takuma Takasaki) maintains a sense of restraint throughout the film. The smallest moments become incredibly affecting—the briefest moments of joy feel euphoric, and the slightest hardships feel devastating. Much of the film’s success rests on Yakusho, who is in every scene and nearly ever frame of the film. Yakusho—who won Best Actor at Cannes for this role— is one of the best film actors of all time, and his performance here is a masterclass. As Hirayama, he carries himself with a quiet dignity that is endearing and powerful. There is always a sense of something fuller going on right below the surface; a complexity right underneath the calm. It’s a character study that is endlessly interesting without ever feeling like it’s trying too hard. The whole film reaches a climax where Hirayama drives his car listening to Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good,” while the camera sits in extreme close-up on Yakusho’s face. In just a couple of minutes, Yakusho’s face runs through just about every emotion it possibly could. I imagine the ending will feel different to me every time I watch it: is he grieving, is he at peace, is he feeling free? There’s no right answer, and that’s what makes Perfect Days so extraordinary. It’s a film that will meaning something different to everyone, but is guaranteed to make everyone feel something.
20) Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
It wasn’t long ago that many considered the works of beloved author Haruki Murakami unfilmable. His signature dreamlike quality felt so inherent to his writing that, while his stories could still be told in other mediums, it felt obvious that something would be lost by taking them off of the page. Luckily, we’ve seen several great film adaptations of Murakami works over the last few years specifically, including Burning, Drive My Car, and now Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. This animated film adapts six different short stories, and while it might not be the best film to be adapted from Murakami’s works, it might be the closest a film has come to truly translating his style to film. For one thing, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is animated (beautifully, at that) and it becomes clear early on that this allows filmmaker Pierre Földes to truly embrace the surreal. Sometimes this surrealism is obvious—one of the two most prominent stories in the film involves a human-sized Frog who repeatedly visits a mild-mannered banker insisting he aid him in his war against a worm who causes earthquakes. Other times it’s more subtle, like Földes’ choice to sketch most background characters as outlines, existing only on the fringes of the principal characters’ lives. These choices give the whole film a sort of lyrical quality which makes the potentially stranger story elements feel completely purposeful. This is a film where magic feels like it is real—the type of film you experience rather than just watch. And while I’m sure there are some viewers who will wish for more of a clear resolution to some of the storylines or philosophical ideas brought up over the course of the film, the journey of the film itself is one very much worth taking. This is a mature, hypnotic film, and in a year with a lot of great animation, shouldn’t be forgotten.
19) Joyland
In 2022, Joyland became the first Pakistani film to be included on the shortlist for Best International Film at the Oscars. Perhaps because the film had not been released in theaters yet, it couldn’t gain enough buzz to earn one of the five nominations, and instead was quietly released a few months later. Which is such a shame, because the fact that Joyland was even selected for submission to the Oscars was a bit of a miracle—it is the first Pakistani film to feature a transgender actor in a leading role, and was almost not released due to heavy protests against the film, and is still banned in parts of the country. So it’s an important and groundbreaking film, and separate from that, happens to be a very good one. The film is about Haider (Ali Junejo), an unemployed married man who is desperately searching for work. He finds a job as a backup dancer to Biba (Alina Khan), an erotic dancer who is transgender. Despite his own hesitations, knowing that his family would not approve of this work, Haider takes the job. As he gets to know Biba better, his own prejudices are challenged, and feelings for Biba begin to arise. It’s a touching film, one which gives its characters space to exist and grow. While the film is political by its own existence, it is ultimately a character-driven piece, one far more interested in telling a story than making a statement. In other words, it’s not trying to be groundbreaking, it merely is, and takes on that responsibility with much grace. Junejo’s portrayal of Haider—a flawed romantic at odds with the notions of masculinity which surround him— is sweet and contemplative. Khan is utterly captivating, so that we are as an audience are as drawn to her as Haider is. But Biba is much more than an object of desire, and Khan shows us every aspect of Biba—both her authentic self, and the confident stage persona she has developed in order to survive. As great as both of them are (and they truly are) my favorite performance in the film surprisingly came from Rasti Farooq, who plays Haider’s wife Mumtaz. This is a role which easily could have been disappointing or unimportant, but she’s as important to the central story as either Haider or Biba. Surrounded by the same frustrations with society as Haider and Biba, Joyland gives Mumtaz her own journey—one that is unanticipated and ultimately quite heartbreaking. Farooq plays Mumtaz as independent and in control even as she begins to questions the norms of the world around her, and her performance ultimately brings the larger point of Joyland into wonderful clarity. It is my hope that filmmaker Saim Sadiq continues to make films like this which push the boundaries and cause controversy—and hopefully his future efforts can garner him the recognition he deserves.
18) The Five Devils
The Five Devils offers one of my absolute favorite characters of the year. Vicky Soler (Sally Dramé) is not your ordinary 10-year old: she has a supernaturally powerful sense of smell. This allows her to have a keen sense of her surroundings (during an experiment, she is able to navigate while blindfolded) and allows her to recreate the scents of those close to her in an odd collection of bottles. On the more fantastical side of things, Vicky can even use smells to conjure memories from other peoples’ pasts—transporting her into the past through some sort of olfactory witchcraft. This becomes particularly important when Vicky’s estranged aunt Julia (Swala Emati) arrives unexpectedly. Julia’s presence is met with a degree of confusion from her father, Jimmy (Moustapha Mbengue), and outright hostility from her mother, Joanna (Adèle Exarchopoulos). Vicky’s gift allows her to unravel the complicated history of her family, and we see the dangers of ignoring the past before it collides with the present. There’s something immensely intriguing about The Five Devils. Director Léa Mysius gives the film a dreamlike aesthetic, invoking at once a childlike wonder and a sense of surreal menace. It’s an intoxicating and unsettling film—and grows increasingly eerie as the tragic story at its center comes more sharply into focus. The cast is also excellent. Dramé is fascinating to watch, and encapsulates both the innocence and great power inherent in young Vicky. But the film truly rests on the performances of Emati and Exarchopoulos. Emati was given a difficult role here—the whole point of Julia is that she’s a bit of a cipher, but Emati rises to the challenge. She is at once haunting and haunted—encapsulating Julia’s grief and anger perfectly. Exarchopoulos has been doing amazing work for several years now, and I’m always impressed not just with her work, but with the types of projects she gravitates towards. She’s marvelous here—bringing to life a character who always feels like she’s hiding something below the surface. The Five Devils is a surprising and enchanting tale—one that is sinister, romantic, and wholly original.
17) Rye Lane
In general, rom-coms are not a genre I actively seek out. The genre sadly tends to fall into overused tropes, lazy jokes, and a general lack of originality. But then a film like Rye Lane comes along which reminds me that rom-coms can still be innovative, exciting, and genuinely funny. Rye Lane follows Dom (David Jonsson) and Yas (Vivian Oparah), who meet at an art exhibition and bond over both having recently going through breakups. A friendship quickly starts, and over the course of a single day, that friendship shows signs of becoming something more (although not without its share of speedbumps along the way). These speedbumps are actually part of what sets Rye Lane apart from other films in its genre—the film feels so rich and layered that the difficulties these characters face in their relationship feel genuine and serious, giving the film real stakes. You don’t feel it’s a given that everything will be tied up with a bow at the end, and while I do think Rye Lane has a satisfying and “happy” ending, I was truly surprised and impressed with its ability to resolve these characters’ arcs in a way that felt both unexpected and satisfying. Of course, any rom-com needs great leads, and Jonsson and Oparah are both excellent. Dom is a bit of a meek character (he begins the film by crying on the toilet) but Jonsson doesn’t let that trait hold him back. In Jonsson’s hands, Dom is intelligent and endearing, and he feels fully realized despite playing the quieter of the two characters. But the film really does belong to Oparah, who is an absolute star in the making. Thanks to Oparah, Yas is full of life and absolutely pops off the screen. It’s a performance that is entertaining, but also raw and vibrant and utterly effortless. Even without these incredibly strong performances, though, there would be a lot to love about Rye Lane. Director Raine Allen-Miller directs Rye Lane with a lot of visual flair, creating an atmosphere that feels energetic, youthful, and urgent, all while depicting the city of London in a way I’ve never gotten to see on film. Rye Lane is an absolute breath of fresh air, and one which will appeal to rom-com lovers and skeptics alike.
16) Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
Let’s get this out of the way first: this would be even higher on my list if it had been a complete movie. It’s not that I mind that this is just the first part of a film—when the second part comes out, I eagerly look forward to watching it and viewing these as two parts of the same film. But when it comes to subjectively ranking films this year, I have to admit that this film is by design incomplete. And now that that’s out of the way…let’s talk about what a gamechanger Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is. I still remember the feeling with Into the Spider-Verse came out. It arrived right at a time that the much discussed cultural “superhero fatigue” was starting to set in, and it felt like an absolute breath of fresh air. Everything about it felt like a comic book come to life, yet was inherently cinematic, and used animation and sound in ambitious ways that I’d truly never seen before. To have a sequel on the same level would have been exciting, but I never would have imagined that a sequel would try to push the boundaries even further. While multiverses have becomes incredibly popular in film over the last few years (in part because of the success of Into the Spider-Verse, I might add), this actually feels like a multiverse—the sound and visuals are so high-octane that you often feel like you’re experiencing five movies at once. It’s a visceral experience, and one which truly pushes the envelope in terms of what type of storytelling can be done on screen. But this is not an example of style over substance—the script is just as ambitious as the craft, and in one film raises more genuinely interesting questions about the nature of heroism than in several phases of the MCU. Across the Spider-Verse is a promising look at the future of filmmaking, and it’s only just the beginning,
15) You Hurt My Feelings
It’s been a few years since Nicole Holofcener last directed a film (although in the meantime she did receive an Oscar nomination for writing the screenplay to Can You Ever Forgive Me?) and it’s wonderful to see a film from her again. Holofcener is masterful at creating complicated characters whose faults only serve to make them more compelling. You Hurt My Feelings is about married couple Beth and Don (Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Tobias Menzies) who are both dealing with professional dissatisfaction. Beth is a well-known memoirist who has written her first ever novel and is finding it hard to sell to publishers who only know her for her non-fiction work. Don is a therapist who is worried he is not helping his patients make any actual progress—especially when a couple who has been seeing him directly confront him for his inability to “fix” their probably doomed marriage. Luckily, Beth and Don have a strong relationship, and can rely on each other even as the rest of their lives are in turmoil…or so they think. The film takes a turn when Beth overhears Don speaking ill of her novel which he previously claimed to have enjoyed, causing both of them to doubt the very dynamic they had previously relied on. You Hurt My Feelings is a film about many things: the joys of relishing in pettiness, the sheer inability to please everyone in our lives, and the idea that the illusion of success might be more satisfying than success itself. But above all, it’s about the utter mundanity that inevitably accompanies a crippling fear of failure. That fear of failure is present when Beth’s sister Sarah (Michaela Watkins, excellent), an interior decorator, consistently fails to find the right lamp for a particularly picky client. It’s present when Sarah’s husband Mark (Arian Moayed) questions his own career after his successful acting career experiences what appears to be its first-ever hiccup. It’s present when Don goes out on a limb to be honest with his patients, only for the directness they’d asked for to be utterly rejected and thrown back in his face. It’s present when Beth realizes that the students she teaches are completely unfamiliar with her work and, in fact, are primarily fans of the author she views as her rival and nemesis. A lot of this could be annoying to watch, but Holofcener’s script is so sharp and her cast is so strong that it becomes inexplicably endearing—like Charlie Brown kicking the football, the characters are despondent but approach each scene with a hope that maybe this time they’ll get it right. The whole cast is amazing, but obviously the heft of the film rests on the shoulders of Louis-Dreyfus and Menzies. Louis-Dreyfus is, of course, amazing—she’s one of the greatest comedic actors we have, and Beth is as in her wheelhouse as a role can get. But Menzies—much better known for his dramatic work—matches her beat for beat. His actorly approach gives Don a vulnerability which nicely compliments Louis-Dreyfus, and as a unit, they make for a really welcoming central couple. This film got sadly overlooked for much of the year, but perhaps that’s a fitting fate for two of the year’s most down-on-their luck heroes.
14) Poor Things
It’s still amazing to me that Yorgos Lanthimos has turned into such a reliably prestige filmmaker. Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s wonderful, but typically when a filmmaker is so audaciously weird, they’re delegated to the “not for everyone” category. But Lanthimos keeps churning out bizarre film after bizarre film and is only receiving more and more mainstream success and I truly love to see it. I think part of why Lanthimos has so much appeal is that what we refer to as “weirdness” in his filmography feels completely genuine. Poor Things is not being weird for weirdnesses sake—rather, Lanthimos clearly and firmly establishes the rules of the world of his film which just happens to be “weird” and lets everything exist authentically within those guidelines. Poor Things follows Bella Baxter (Emma Stone) the latest experiment from your everyday neighborhood mad scientist Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe), who embarks on a journey of discovery and self-betterment. Poor Things is, during its worst moments, very interesting, but in its best moments it’s absolutely transcendent. It’s tough to say if this is Lanthimos’ best movie to date, but it’s undeniably his most ambitious. Bella Baxter’s story is epic and extravagant, and features a whole lot of over-the-top design choices which at times feel dizzying, but never unintentional or out of place. As Bella sees the world, Lanthimos made a great choice to not ever film on location in the various famous cities depicted, instead creating funhouse versions of them—the effect is a world that’s disorienting through its own whimsy, familiar yet disconcerting. It would all be too much if not for a series of strong performances which ground the film. Dafoe is doing unexpectedly understated work—his character becomes an unlikely source of sympathy, and he delivers one of the quieter performances in the film when he’s not belching out bubbles. But, obviously, this movie belongs to Stone. This is career-best work, and the film would not work without her. This is a tough role—one that has to be vulnerable while being audacious, and funny without being foolish. She nails it, and is simply magnetic on screen. Poor Things is more than just a glamorous curiosity, it’s a tour de force with moments of genuine magic.
13) Cassandro
Every year, the Oscars recognize their fair share of biopics, and every year, I get bored by the same old biopic tropes being trotted out movie after movie. It’s exhausting, and I increasingly set myself up for disappointment with every biopic that I watch. But occasionally, I’ll see a biopic which reminds me of how wonderful a biopic can actually be. Such is the case with Cassandro, which tells the story of Saúl Armendáriz, a lucha libre wrestler from the 1908s who performs under the name Cassandro. Cassandro competes as an exótico, a type of luchador who performs in drag and acts effeminately in the ring. Like any good biopic, Cassandro doesn’t just tell Armendáriz’s story, it makes a case for why his story SHOULD be told. Given the manliness inherent in most luchadores, the idea of the exótico used to be one of ridicule—they were set up as the opponent who would rightfully lose to the more macho fighter. But, as told by the film, Cassandro changed this viewpoint. He became undeniably popular, and someone audiences wanted to see emerge victorious not just in spite of his flamboyant persona but because of it. It’s a beautiful, crowd-pleasing, underdog story—like if Rocky Balboa was a gay Mexican man living in El Paso. This film makes the world of lucha libre accessible for those who don’t know anything about it (like myself), and the fight sequences are quite thrilling. One scene in particular, where Cassandro fights a famous luchador El Hijo del Santo (who plays himself) is absolutely gorgeous, and almost balletic in the way it is filmed and presented. The film excels in portraying Cassandro as an important athlete, but also in portraying Armendáriz as a person outside of the ring. Cassandro is played by none other than the great Gael García Bernal, who always brings a magnetic charm and great sensitivity to his roles. He’s particularly subtle here. As wonderful as it is watching him in the Cassandro persona, he’s even more compelling when he’s the shy Saúl, who continues to worry whether he will be fully accepted for his sexuality even as a whole country grows to adore him. It’s a beautiful performance, surrounded by a film that warrants it.
12) May December
More than any other movie on this list, May December feels like it really shouldn’t work as well as it does. The elements on their own feel utterly disparate, and yet director Todd Haynes puts them together so masterfully that each odd little part comes together to create a truly riveting piece of cinema. The film follows Elizabeth Berry (Natalie Portman), a renowned actress who will be playing Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Julianne Moore) in an upcoming movie, and goes to meet Gracie and observe her life in preparation for the role. Gracie was the subject of controversy two decades earlier after she had an affair with a teenager named Joe (played by Charles Melton as an adult), who was a friend of her son’s. Gracie served time in prison, but then married Joe who she still lives with and has three children with. The moral implications of Gracie and Joe’s relationship provides enough drama for any film, and I’m happy to say that the film approaches the nature of that relationship and its genesis with an appropriate level of respect and understanding. To add in the character of Elizabeth feels like it should be an unnecessary angle for what the film is exploring. But nothing in this film is unintentional. This is a film about people who, for various reasons, are not able to be themselves—and the trio of actors who portray them deserve all of the accolades they’re receiving. Everything about Gracie’s life feels artificial—from the way she behaves, and the way others behave around her. She as a character is putting on a performance, and it’s unclear throughout the film whether this is done for power, for survival, or both. Julianne Moore gives Gracie an infantile way of speaking that can be creepy, but is undeniably effective. While she doesn’t try and make us forgive the character’s actions and decisions, she still manages to imbue Gracie with a very human fragility. It’s always interesting to see a movie star poking fun at the idea of being a movie star, and Natalie Portman does a really great job of it here. Portman is starring in a film about a tabloid story (while the characters in May December are fictional, there is clear inspiration taken from the real life case of Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau), but her character exists to examine the ethical situation of portraying such a story to a mass audience. The increasing invasiveness of Elizabeth is fascinating and messy, and genuinely uncomfortable. In a parallel to Gracie, it becomes clear that Elizabeth is just as empty as a person—only able to function in a role as someone else, and her self-stated fascination with “morally ambiguous” characters speaks to her own disregard for ethics in her personal life. Portman has proven time and time again that she’s a strong actor, but this performance genuinely surprised me with just how good she was, and while she’s been getting great notice it still doesn’t feel like enough. It’s rare that a famous actor becomes unrecognizable in a role, but it’s even rarer that they do so playing a role so close to their own public image. But as good as Portman is, Charles Melton is clearly the heart of the film. As emotionally immature as all of these characters are, Joe is the only one who feels stunted by circumstance rather than personality. The film begins melodramatically (out of Cannes, May December was already being given the affectionate label of “camp”), thanks in part to a sweepingly cheesy score by Marcelo Zarvos. But the film loses its melodrama, and the prominent score becomes less and less present, as the film goes on. Haynes peels away the exploitative tabloid veneer to find the very real stakes at the film’s center, and the contrast helps the film’s message read even more strongly and genuinely. And this would not work without Melton, who nails it as a victim grappling with the weight of what they’ve lost for the very first time. This is a powerful film, and a complicated story told expertly.
11) Viking
One of the biggest surprises of the year for me was Viking, a French-Canadian film about a team of astronauts on a mission to mars…kind of. The premise of the film is that the first crewed mission to Mars has just begun. But while every precaution has been taken to ensure a successful mission, the team on the ground is worried about the one thing they can’t control: the interpersonal problems that might arise between the members of the team. To account for this, they assemble a “B Team” of people whose personalities exactly match the team of astronauts, who will remain on Earth, but act out the daily events of the Mars mission. The idea is this team can be more easily observed, and perhaps what is learned from their actions can help inform decisions made aboard the actual spaceship itself. It’s a silly premise, and the film eagerly embraces the strangeness of it all, mining the premise for comedy at every turn. As the film goes on, however, it becomes increasingly and unexpectedly poignant. The central thesis of Viking is that humans are not machines, and no amount of exactitude in comparing peoples’ personalities will ever make them predictable. As things begin to go awry in both the mission on Mars and the mission on Earth, Viking really comes into its own. The oddness leads to great sincerity, and it finds beauty in the unlikely situation of its own creation. I began charmed by Viking, and ultimately was taken aback by just how much it made me think and feel. It’s like The Office meets Moon meets Yorgos Lanthimos—a strange cocktail of a film that creates one of the most original and underrated films of the year.
But that's not all! Read about my Top 10 Films of the year with Part 2!
.jpg)