The Best Movies of 2019: Part 2

Here are my picks for my top ten favorite films of the year. If you haven't yet, check out Part 1, where I examine my picks for #30-#11. All excellent movies, but here are the films I truly believe to be the best of the best.

10: See You Yesterday (dir. Stefon Bristol)

See You Yesterday might just have the best premise of any sci-fi film over the last few years. It’s about a high-school science genius C.J. Walker (Eden Duncan-Smith) who uses the time machine she invented to try and save her brother Calvin (rapper turned actor Astro) after he was shot by the police without cause. It’s a premise that does what every good sci-fi story should do: it uses fantastic and unreal elements to comment on modern issues in a way that a film grounded in realism never could. And it does so while showcasing multiple young actors of color in roles as scientific prodigies. And that’s crucial to the film’s success. It allows debut writer Stefon Bristol to portray the reality that young black men are targeted by the police while not making it define life in black city communities. The result is a very lived-in movie with a vibrant energy that feels new and essential. It’s no wonder that Spike Lee himself chose to produce the film—Bristol has his own distinct sensibilities, but Lee’s political undercurrent is clear through both this film and the short it was based on.

The good news is that this film is not just a good premise—Bristol meets and exceeds upon the promise he already showed with this idea. It’s a gripping film, one which isn’t without its share of levity despite the seriousness of the issues it’s addressing. It features some really incredible acting. Pretty much everyone in the ensemble seems to be on the same wavelength, including one actor who might just be the best bit of stunt casting in recent memory. But special mention needs to be given to Duncan-Smith and Dante Crichlow who plays C.J.'s best friend and time traveling partner Sebastian. These young actors are ones to watch and the film succeeds on the shoulders of their remarkable performances. Credit also needs to be given to Astro, who is particularly heartbreaking in one of the film's final scenes, when Calvin realizes the impact of what is going on and makes a decision that is gut-wrenching in both the context of the film and pertaining to its real-world implications. See You Yesterday is a worthy addition to the litany of time travel stories that already exist. It's also a wonderfully original and important piece of social commentary. But the fact that it marries these two aspects of itself so wonderfully is what truly makes it exceptional.

9: A Land Imagined (dir. Yeo Siew Hua)

If A24 were to produce a David Lynchian noir film, it would look a lot like A Land Imagined. Singapore's submission to the Academy Awards, which won the Golden Leopard at the Locarno Film Festival, is a wonderfully dreamy mystery film which masterfully weaves narratives of mysticism and political commentary, all done with a visual flair that makes it one of the most visually interesting films of the year. Yeo Siew Hua's neo-noir follows police investigator Lok (Peter Yu) as he investigates the disappearance of construction worker Wang Bi Cheng (Liu Xiaoyi). Yu portrays Lok as being wonderfully sensitive, and he immediately tunes into the fact that there is more to this case than meets the eye. Most of the film feels like we're following Lok as he tumbles down a proverbial rabbit hole, one which feels deeper and deeper as we become more immersed in the film's poetic depths. Like any good neo-noir, the A Land Imagined has atmosphere in spades. Most of our prominent characters mention suffering from insomnia, but in the world of A Land Imagined, dreams are where the world makes the most sense. It's while we're awake that we see the real nightmares.

Highly experimental, Yeo is clearly a director with a deep bag of tricks, which he uses to craft a meticulously beautiful experience. For example, as Lok investigates, we see him tracing the steps that Wang once walked, and Yeo recreates some of his scenes shot for shot replacing the actors. The result is unnerving, as if Yeo is performing a magic trick on screen. While the disappearance at the film's center is compelling and thrilling in its own right, A Land Imagined is more concerned about the nature of mystery itself. While it frequently delves into dark territory, it nonetheless feels like an escape; it's a movie you can get lost in. But for all its ambiguity, A Land Imagined remains firmly grounded in its purpose. It plays with notions of reality, so that we as an audience consider our own reality and truth. It uses surrealism to exposes hidden truths of our societies and the people who so often fade into the background, whether by choice or circumstance or necessity. A Land Imagined is a dense journey to undertake, but it's also a satisfying one, and if one allows themselves to give over to its distinctive sensibilities, it's a hugely rewarding one.

8: Greener Grass (dir. Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe)

I warned you that some of my choices for the best films of the year are particularly weird, and without a doubt the weirdest of the lot is Greener Grass. It's frankly not even close. Greener Grass is one of the strangest things I've seen in any medium, and as a result is one of the most original and unforgettable films of the year. The film takes place in the American suburbs, but more like the suburbs in a nightmarish alternate reality. Everything is brightly colored, everything is perfect to the point of being garish, and everyone is as polite as they are passive aggressive. It's The Stepford Wives by way of My Wet Hot American Summer.

Based on their short film of the same name, Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe wrote, directed, produced, and star in this movie, and it makes sense that they took on so many hats while producing this film because its success relies on all these elements existing on the same wavelength. There isn't much of a plot—it's mostly a series of connected vignettes—so if anything was out of place the movie would immediately come screeching to a halt. It's a film that thrives because of the weird energy coursing through its veins, and if an audience member can sync up with it, they'll be in for an experience that is truly unique. It's rare to find a movie that actually defies convention. If Greener Grass had to be categorized, it would have to be labeled a comedy; it is certainly one of the funniest films of the year, and features my favorite line of the year with, "If anyone's a school, it's Julian," (which makes sense in context...kind of). But it's almost reductive to label it a comedy. Greener Grass was actually distributed by IFC Midnight, which usually deals exclusively in horror. And while I don't think anybody would really call Greener Grass a horror movie, it's still more disturbing than most horror movies release, so the categorization kind of makes sense. And that's what makes Greener Grass one of the best movies of the year. There's simply nothing like it. By the time one of the principal characters transforms into a Golden Retriever halfway through the movie you hardly bat an eye even though there have been no other supernatural elements until that point. I have a feeling some people will absolutely hate this movie (if you're not into it by the first five minutes turn it off), but the people who love it will REALLY love it, and I guarantee that no one can truly expect what Greener Grass has to offer. For as disorienting as it can be, Greener Grass is ultimately a real breath of fresh air.

7: The Third Wife (Dir. Ash Mayfair)

In her feature debut The Third Wife, Vietnamese filmmaker Ash Mayfair possesses an assuredness that makes it feel like she's been directing for years. There's an inherent patience in this filmmaking, which allows the camera to linger, and which trusts the audience to interpret the images on screen without interference. It's a good thing that Mayfair has such an innate understanding of the medium, because The Third Wife is a tricky film to pull off, and it would not have succeeded without Mayfair's guiding vision. The film takes place in 19th century Vietnam, and follows a 14-year old girl named Mây (Nguyễn Phương Trà My , who was only 12 when filming began) who becomes the third wife of a much older man. Child-marriage is a difficult subject to talk about on film, and Mayfair smartly chooses to make The Third Wife a coming of age story. By focusing on Mây's life and identity, it makes her a richly developed character, and gives her a sense of agency and independence without relegating her to simply being a child bride. The Third Wife was at the center of much controversy over the decision to cast a minor in the lead role to tackle such difficult material. But anyone offended by this a) has no idea the emotional complexity children are capable of and b) hasn't seen Trà My 's performance. She's absolutely incredible, and it is clear from her relationship with the camera how much trust she and Mayfair have for each other. There is an understanding of the abuse inherent in Mây's situation, and the more strength that Trà My expresses on screen, the more vulnerable she subsequently feels to us.

Despite her circumstances, Mây is still a teenager after all, and her position doesn't change that fact. The Third Wife is ultimately, an unlikely coming-of-age story, and the Mayfair is careful to leave space to allow Mây to explore her own identity. For as awful as the subject matter is, the film itself is hauntingly beautiful. The camera lingers on the beautiful landscape, and uses bold color themes to craft a setting which looks like a paradise, but of course hides secret horrors. That idea of hidden ugliness under a gorgeous backdrop is present within the screenplay as well, and so much of the film's most brutal truths are left unsaid and simply alluded to. This includes a terrifying implication in the final few minutes of the scene which is all the more horrifying for how understandable it is. It is a film that criticizes these cultural practices, but from a place of understanding. For all the controversy surrounding The Third Wife, it is a powerfully empathetic film, and one which marks Mayfair as a potential force to be reckoned with in the industry.

6: Diamantino (dir. Gabriel Abrantes and Daniel Schmidt)

I knew I’d love Diamantino within the first five minutes. We’re introduced to the sweet and innocent Diamantino Matamouros (Carloto Cotta), a football player (football as in soccer) with godlike ability on the field. His secret is that when he’s in “the zone,” all the other players on either team seem to drift away and it’s just him and “the puppies.” Suddenly, on screen, Diamantino is transported to a pastel pink-colored galaxy where it’s just him surrounded by enormous Pekingese puppies. It’s the best and most memorable example of the whimsical surrealism that is this film’s signature tone, and if that tone was all it had going for it, it would probably still be one of my favorite films of the year. But what lands it so high on this list is that Diamantino’s oddball fun is the unlikely vehicle for some of the most astute political commentary of any film this year.

Over the course of Diamantino’s runtime it touches on so many hot-topic global political issues (with Donald Trump, Jair Bolsonaro, and Brexit among the most lampooned topics) that one would be forgiven for thinking that it doesn’t really say anything substantive about any of them. But that’s not the point—rather than be about one topic in particular, Diamantino addresses what it sees as a central issue unifying so many of the world’s problems: namely a lack of empathy which leads to the rise of neo-fascism. Diamantino is particularly interested in looking at said lack of empathy through a religious lens. Making any sort of religious film can be very tricky, but I think Diamantino pulls it off better than just about any other movie I can recall. Diamantino the character is a very obvious Christ-figure, here imagined as essentially a grown-up child. He is sensitive, and naïve, and possesses a genuine desire to help others. It should be said that Cotta plays Diamantino perfectly—making such an innocent caricature absolutely believable. Diamantino’s problem is that he is surrounded by people who are eager to mislead him and use him and his talents for their own personal gain. It is at once a celebration of traditional Christian values, while a condemnation of the way that those values are exploited and manipulated worldwide.The film itself is so weird and wonderful that the astuteness of the commentary almost creeps up on you unawares. One minute, you're laughing at some fun cinematic hijinks. The next second, the direct bite of the film hits you. It's a movie that needs to be watched multiple times to truly understand just how many different cylinders it's firing on.

5: Fast Color (dir. Julia Hart)

There is a world in which Fast Color got its due. After rave reviews at its premiere at South by Southwest, it was picked up by a small distributor called Codeblack Films (an offshoot of Lionsgate) which just had no idea what to do with it. It was released without much attention or advertising (I’d been excited about the movie and was actively looking for it to be in theaters and STILL missed its theatrical release). And this is really a shame because this movie is not only incredible, but really could have found a wide audience had it been given a chance.

The film focuses on Ruth (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), who comes from a family where the women all possess the genetic trait of supernatural powers. Ruth, afraid of her inability to control her own powers (she can influence the weather), must return to the home she fled from after discovering scientists are attempting to capture her for experimentation. This means reconnecting with her estranged mother Bo (Lorraine Toussaint) and her daughter Lila (Saniyya Sidney) who she had abandoned as an infant. The story is strong—and another, more popular comic book movie from this year that claimed to inject the genre with pathos could have learned a lot of things about subtlety from this movie. But what really sets Fast Color apart are the performances. Mbatha-Raw gives what I think is her best performance to date as Ruth, and Toussaint gives by far one of the best performances of the year as Bo. She is absolutely commanding on screen, simultaneously projecting weariness and power. But they’re not the only ones who do a good job, Christopher Denham does some nice work in a small role as Bill, the scientist hunting Ruth, and David Strathairn brings some surprising tenderness to his role as the local town sheriff.

Apparently Amazon is working on developing a TV series based off of the film (with Viola Davis signed on as a producer). Should that series come to fruition I will definitely look forward to seeing it, and perhaps it could introduce more people this true overlooked gem of 2019.

4: Bacurau (dir. Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles)

In case it hasn’t already been abundantly clear given my favorite films of the year, I love it when a movie gets really weird. The more bonkers the movie is, the more apt I am to be intrigued by it. That being said, few things can frustrate me more than weirdness for weirdness’ sake, but if a movie can use its strange perspective to create something meaningful, it’s absolutely transcendent. And potentially no movie I’ve ever seen has epitomized what I mean by this better than Bacurau. It’s an absolutely wild, as I’d argue any Brazilian dystopian revolutionary Western should be. It feels like Robert Altman is directing a movie written by Quentin Tarantino, but script-doctored by Caryl Churchill. It’s the type of movie that you’re pretty sure you’re just starting to understand until the UFO shows up. It’s honestly impossible to imagine if you haven’t seen this movie, but the end result is that Bacurau possesses a frenetic energy that manifests into a feverish political current. It’s a cinematic rallying cry for revolution that is being screamed into your face full blast. And considering Brazil’s current political climate, it comes from a state of desperation that is heartbreaking and magnetic. It’s a film with something to say, which has found a truly unique way of saying it.

To attempt to describe the plot would be meaningless—this is a film far more concerned with setting, character, and themes. But it is a testament to the strength of both the screenplay and production that Bacurau feels as coherent as it does, and never loses energy or consistency even as it juggles startling tonal shifts and new colorful characters. Ultimately, I just can’t describe it enough except to see it is a movie that defies description.

And, I must say, that especially when looking at it so high on my list with Diamantino (which was a co-production between Portugal, France, and Brazil), I’m envious of some of the political film that is being produced out of Brazil in the wake of its own far-right dictator. Yes, I know it’s unfair of me to judge this based off of the only two Brazilian movies I’ve seen this year, but if the best cinematic response to the resurgence of fascism in the United States that we have to offer is Jojo Rabbit, then comparing that to these two incredible films is honestly a little embarrassing.

3: One Cut of the Dead (dir. Shin'ichirô Ueda)

The current trend in storytelling now is that comedies tend to be weighted with meaning and insight as opposed to simply being funny. If we look at the Golden Globe nominees for best Musical or Comedy you find decidedly not comedic movies like Green Book, The Favourite, Vice, I Tonya, Get Out, The Big Short, The Martian, Joy, and many more. And while a good number of these movies contain comedic elements the fact is that in terms of themes explored these far more resemble what we would have considered dramas at one point. To be fair, part of this might be because a lot of the movies that are released today that sit firmly in the comedic category are frankly really bad. Most comedies are released in the summer and exist primarily to showcase big name stars as opposed to quality writing. Actually good comedies that embrace silliness (like Airplane! or most of Mel Brooks’ filmography) are few and far between.

Which is what makes Shin'ichirô Ueda’s film One Cut of the Dead so refreshing and wonderful. It is a goofy good time that is so genuinely brilliant in its construction and style that there’s no way it won’t be a cult classic for years to come. I’m not the only one that thinks so—the story behind the film’s success speaks to its quality and appeal. Initially made with a budget of about $25,000 and starring no well-known actors, the film didn’t get much attention during its initial 6-day run in Japan. But after playing at film festivals where it received enormous acclaim, word of mouth started to grow and after a re-release in Japan it has grossed over $30,000,000 worldwide, earning back over a thousand times its budget. Such success is not a fluke—One Cut of the Dead is actually just that good. And while I praise it as pure silliness, it’s worth noting that it also has a lot of heart, and features some good commentary about the artistic process in the age of commercialism should you choose to consider it.

As for the content of the movie itself, I could go into the plot, but honestly, I just think everyone should see this movie. But I will say it’s like a cross between Shaun of the Dead and Noises Off and if that doesn’t sound amazing then you don’t know what both of those are.

2: Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-ho)

At about the midway point of Parasite there is a scene where the family at the movie’s center is drinking whiskey in the rain. A poor family with ambitions to ascend to a higher social status, they have lied their way into the room they now occupy through a meticulously constructed series of events that make the first half of Parasite one of the best heist movies ever made. This scene is the first real moment of quiet the film has, and the brilliant director Bong Joon-ho allows the scene to linger. It allows the characters to be at ease, while also creating a sense of unease amongst the audience. After the fast pace of the rest of the movie, the longer the scene goes on the more it creates a sense that the shit is about to hit the fan. And it absolutely does. The rest of the movie is chaos, although in traditional Bong Joon-ho fashion it’s a brand of chaos that one would never expect. For all the weirdness and insight and brilliance that the rest of the movie possesses, this is my favorite film scene of the year, and I think it sums up why Bong Joon-ho is one of the world’s best directors. He frequently presents us with the outlandish and the bizarre and the over-the-top, but he also is a master of restraint when the film calls for it. The scene where they drink whiskey in the rain prepares us for a second half of a film that one could never be really prepared for. After this scene nothing will ever be the same.

Parasite is an almost impossibly complex movie. As much as I love it I know there are so many details and metaphors that I have not yet grasped. It’s also a movie that I think everyone will watch differently. It’s such a bold piece of art that it invades your senses and takes hold of you, almost like the parasite referenced by the title. I think that’s the secret of Parasite’s universal appeal; beyond just the sheer skill behind all aspects of the filmmaking it’s a film that will personally speak to everyone. And, of course, the social commentary is as on point and nuanced as it is essential and bold. I remember when it premiered at Cannes to rave reviews, nobody thought it would win the Palme d’or. Typically that award goes to the movie that everyone on the jury is okay with winning, as opposed to the one they all think is the best (the de facto second and third place prizes tend to be movies that aren’t necessarily better but are somewhat bolder). But Parasite took home the top prize in a rare unanimous decision. This is the first time a South Korean film has taken the honor, and it is also the first time that the jury’s pick for the best film of the year matched the critics’ pick for the best film of the year. Parasite has tapped into an unusual alchemy that speaks at once to audiences, critics, and artists of all backgrounds and perspectives.

Parasite is, for me, the undeniable film of the year. It is the one movie of 2019 I feel like everybody truly needs to see. I would even say it’s probably the best film of the year if I’m being completely honest. But there was one that stuck with me even longer and more deeply, and that is…

1: An Elephant Sitting Still (dir. Hu Bo)

It is difficult to express my enthusiasm for An Elephant Sitting Still properly. Whenever I have tried to talk about it with people I want to convey how profound I found it to be, while also including the caveat that I don’t know if I could ever recommend it to anyone. It’s a movie I think should be watched, but not without an understanding of one what is getting into. After all, it is a four hour film, and those four hours are some of the bleakest I’ve ever sat through. It is an undertaking of a movie, but one which I believe is ultimately incredibly rewarding. Director Hu Bo wrings beauty out of despair in an incredibly personal way that affected me in a way few movies ever have.

An Elephant Sitting Still follows four people in a small town in China who, for various reasons, are undergoing the worst day of their lives. They all dream of escape, specifically of getting to the city of Manzhouli, where supposedly there resides the elephant referenced in the title. Similarly to Parasite, this is a movie about how a person’s aspirations are defined by their own context. The four main characters here (played movingly by Peng Yuchang, Zhang Yu, Wang Yuwen, and Liu Congxi) are undergoing their own personal hells and the most perfect thing they can dream of is heartbreakingly mundane. The power of this movie is such that the circumstances of these characters’ lives is not just understood but felt. The filmmaking (all muted colors and long takes) makes you feel closely connected to them in a visceral and shocking way. I didn’t watch this movie in theaters, and I’m glad of it. I needed to take a break multiple times simply to process what I was watching. But then leapt back into the film hungrily, eager to see how these people would end up, and hoping for a sliver of happiness for any of them. In so many ways, An Elephant Sitting Still reminded me of the works of Eugene O’Neill: it focuses on characters misunderstood by those around them, it’s incredibly pessimistic and focused on personal tragedies, and it uses realism in a way that transcends real life. While Parasite is the best constructed movie of the year, what gives An Elephant Sitting Still the edge for me is its roughness. It allows itself to be rough and unrefined in a way that allows for unbelievable honesty. It is a film that rips its own heart out and presents itself right there on the screen.

It was only until after I watched An Elephant Sitting Still that I learned about the tragic backstory of the film’s making. It is both the first and last film of writer and director Hu Bo, who tragically killed himself at the age of 29 shortly after this film’s completion. I didn’t know this going into the film, and I’m glad I didn’t, but it also explains quite a bit about his willingness to bare his soul so completely here. Even as his only film, An Elephant Sitting Still showcases a complete artistic vision from this filmmaker. It is a product of the artistry that can only come from a place of loss. It is a thesis statement that is both heartbreaking and poetic. Despite the emotional toll it takes, it’s one of the only movies from this year that I’ve watched a second time—even after the four hour runtime I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to these characters. I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about this film and that would be reason enough for it to be my pick for my favorite film of the year.



So there we have it, my picks for the 10 best films of the year. As I stated at the start of this list, it's an unusual lineup, and somehow even more obscure than my year-end lists tend to be. I hope, though, that if you haven't heard of some of these films, I've been able to express what I love about each and every one of them, and that there might be some you've added to your own list. If you've watch any of these films, or have seen some already, please let me know! I always love to discuss, even if we disagree (sometimes especially if we disagree). And I'd love to hear from all of you what some of your favorite films of the year are. Are there movies that you think I've missed, or are there movies here that you think shouldn't have been included? Let me know! And let's all keep watching movies. At a time when the world is crashing down, art is honestly more important than ever, whether it's an escape or a rallying cry. Thanks for reading!

And if you want more film coverage, you can take a look at my 100 favorite film performances of 2019!