Spencer TuckermanThere was plenty to bemoan about last year, but one issue that only people like me found despairing was the massive hit that movies took. And I don’t mean film business—as theaters shut down and scrambled to navigate a full year without moviegoers. There just weren’t that many movies, especially great ones.
When looking back at last year’s list, it’s incredible that something like Mank—a perfectly good movie from a director I love—was able to qualify for my top five. I haven’t thought about it since. It probably wouldn’t have made this year’s top 15. Especially coming on the heels of an incredible movie year in 2019, it was a real bummer for someone who devotes most of his free time to watching movies.
This year wasn’t perfect by any means, but at least—for now—movies are back.
If I were to think of what defined my year in movies, it would be the way 2021 was carried by two types of movies: Ones that delivered exactly what I wanted (Licorice Pizza, Luca, Dune, The French Dispatch) and those that completely caught me off guard and brought something I didn’t know I desperately needed (Titane, Spencer, Pig, Riders of Justice). This didn’t feel like a terrifically strong movie year, but in that specific sense—the yin and yang between predictability and unexpected wonder—2021 was perfect.
I watched 76 movies that were given a wide U.S. release in 2021, and here they are, in order. I started at the top because I know people will just scroll to #1 and read from the bottom up anyway. It’s what I do.
01. Licorice Pizza
dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Paul Thomas Anderson made a Richard Linklater movie.
I'll just go ahead and make the Once Upon A Time in Hollywood comparison as well. They're each films set in a very specific era of LA history and not intent to do anything there but hang out and prod at their characters. This is a very good thing, even if it isn't something I historically come to PTA for. He's a director whose work is typically in a wrestling match with eternal stakes. I found Phantom Thread (which I love, by the way) to be his least-ambitious work. In comparison to Licorice Pizza it may as well be Magnolia.
In place of that ambition is something far, far looser and more warm, joyful, and exultant. Calling it a hangout movie feels a bit derisive, as those are typically "shaggy," which is not how PTA operates, at least at this stage of his career. Here he's good at making his perfectionism seem random, sending his characters spinning in circles while still delivering precise dialogue cast in gorgeous 35mm with a pitch-perfect soundtrack. (It’s also just incredibly textured. The ephemera here would make Wes Anderson proud.)
It's his funniest movie, though it's not a comedy. It's his most romantic movie, though there isn't really a romance. It's a movie designed to be returned to, much like Once Upon A Time in Hollywood. That was the first movie I watched in 2021. It's only fitting that this will likely be the last.
02. C’mon C’mon
dir. Mike Mills
A beautiful movie about family and childhood and life and all the contrasts that come with it. The idea that the things that shape us are often forgotten. The idea that those with the best perspective on it all rarely realize they have it. The idea that things are wonderful and terrifying and painful and magical all at once. And the idea that this bewildering experience is somehow universal.
Love-letter-to-life movies are my favorite. Everyone in this rules, most especially Joaquin Phoenix, who was already high on my personal list but may deliver my favorite performance here.
Definitely need to see this at least one more time before I totally give myself to it, but it feels like the first special movie to come out in a couple years.
03. The Green Knight
dir. David Lowery
Grand, distinctive, and enchanting, it's the kind of movie positioned to become an enduring favorite if it weren't for the fact it feels like it already is. Perhaps it's the moral at the core of The Green Knight—Arthurian, almost Biblical, in its time-testedness—that already makes this feel like it's withstood decades.
Dev Patel is one of our very best.
04. Titane
dir. Julia Ducournau
A demented circus thats greatest stunt is bending back around to heartwarming. Buried in this body horror is a story of genuine love—a beating titanium heart of humanity that's exactly what I felt Raw (Ducournau’s debut) was missing.
The presentation surrounding this theme is exactly what Ducournau has already proven herself to be a master at. It's incredibly visually stimulating—as confident as it is dynamic. We have a new visionary on our hands. And as someone who admired her first film much more than I liked it, Titane feels like she's unlocked something in her arsenal. I'm unbelievably excited to see where she goes next.
(To add to the disorientation, the fire alarm in my theater went off during the scene in which our main character is bracing to punch herself in the face. For a brief but significant moment I thought Ducournau had somehow rigged all the theaters to flash lights at the audience. She's not that good yet.)
05. Spencer
dir. Pablo Larraín
Confounding in a lot of ways. Subtlety is not always this film's strong suit and I'm still not sure how I feel about the closing minutes. I can anticipate the ways in which this will have detractors.
But also... damn. Sort of impossible for me to not fall for. It's everything I want from a biopic. It focuses on a finite moment in time (one that doesn't have a direct relation to why the person is famous), it takes liberties in all the right ways (pushing back on the extremely boring impulses biopics have), and it centers around a real performance (rather than an impersonation).
It's kind of stunning the ways in which this feels like, of all things, The Shining. Much of this is about a person in a large home, grappling with isolation (though emotionally), and wrestling with the past. So much of this is composed like a horror movie, claustrophobically stuffy and formal, vast and empty outdoor expanses butting up against dark and cloistered interiors. There are literal ghosts!
06. Pig
dir. Michael Sarnoski
A film that feels conscious of the ways in which we're primed to receive it. Maybe I was just able to go in blind enough, but I hear "Nic Cage's pig gets stolen and he has go to get it back" and I expect certain things.
In passages, Pig even teases us with what we came for, but its power lies in its ability to wash that away. It's like showing up for John Wick only to discover Kelly Reichardt. (Wonderful Old Joy grace notes here).
It's a fragmented meditation on loss that feels a touch off-track in its earlier moments, but finds itself before long, receding inward at every fork in the road. I love it.
07. The Power of the Dog
dir. Jane Campion
Slow and easy but burnishing a remarkable sense of foreboding and propulsion. If you're like me, one of the first things you'll notice is the score, which makes that cosmic threat seem constant. I'm not a person that traditionally makes note of these things, but this is the second time this year Jonny Greenwood has gotten me without me realizing it was he who was responsible. The man is incredible.
What's more, so is Benedict Cumberbatch, a performer I have traditionally disliked quite a bit. He is fantastic here. A "damn, where has this been?" type of showing.
Every year it feels like there are one or two last-minute entrants that practically demand a return visit but won't receive one given the crowded December movie schedule. The Power of the Dog is this year's. (I realize this is a problem reserved only for people like me who have a compulsive need to obtain a complete grasp of the year in movies in order to rank them like a moron.)
I say that to make the point that I loved this, though it's too early to tell to what degree. It's the kind of movie you just have to go along with at first. The themes bear fruit early but the narrative keeps itself hidden until the last possible instant. I'm curious how I might feel about it once I'm able to watch more confidently.
08. Minari
dir. Lee Isaac Chung
Minari manages to pull one of my favorite film tricks in making the profound seem simple. As much as I love the high-wire acts of filmmakers like Charlie Kaufman and the Safdie Brothers, there's something uncommonly impressive about a movie that can dominate Sundance and then go home and impress someone who knows nothing about movies.
Everywhere you look is something brilliant that isn't calling attention to itself––be it music, acting, set design, cinematography, or the film's namesake herb. Minari, like its setting, is both gentle and teeming with life. And young Alan Kim is just incredible here.
I adore this film's balance. Minari is doing a lot of things at a high level, but it does it all unpretentiously, making a nuanced story look simple and go down easy.
09. Dune
dir. Denis Villeneuve
I think I've always been the anomaly in that I harbor a great deal of respect for Denis Villeneuve and have felt a strong connection to his work—though not to the bombastic sci-fi that seems to define him in the public eye (Blade Runner 2049, Arrival) but in the more grounded material (Enemy, Sicario). This relationship has really tempered my personal expectations for Dune. It's perhaps the white whale of sci-fi properties, a story so massive that it was almost believed to be impossible to do justice on screen.
All this to say that I enjoyed Dune more than I expected, as if Villeneuve went so large and majestic that it circled right back around to the rare kind of spectacle you can't help but be thrilled by.
I don't think it's quite Movie of the Year material (though part of that is owed to it being very much half a story), but it's balls-to-the-wall fun, every pocket containing an interesting piece of sound design, or character decision, or awe-inspiring musical bed.
10. Luca
dir. Enrico Casarosa
I'm planting my flag on Luca Mountain.
It's, hilariously, almost like Tenet in that the filmmakers have shed (most of) the heavy emotional baggage and settled for something that may not be their objective best work but is far breezier and lightweight than anything they've made in years—maybe since the legendary Ratatouille.
That's not to say Luca is devoid of deeper readings, because it is not. But when the studio's recent hits are about negotiating loss and finding your place in the world, a movie about friendship, identity, and life's grand adventure feels like a summer day in the Italian sun.
Finally, saying each new Pixar film is their prettiest feels a lot like Apple proclaiming each year's iPhone is the best they've made. It's just assumed. Yet it bears a mention that this thing is triumphantly gorgeous and tactile. I'd buy a coffee table book of stills.
11. The French Dispatch
dir. Wes Anderson
It's hard not to view The French Dispatch as a bit of a taunt. Wes Anderson is a filmmaker who has always been defined in images, vignettes, and ephemera, and this is a movie structured in such a way to bring as much of that as possible. It may be he lightest work (packing in something like six stories with a litany of framing devices will do that), but it's also an already dense director at perhaps his densest.
Simply put, this is the most Wes Anderson-y he's ever been. As such, I don't see this being a successful entry point to his filmography, but a treat for the diehards. It's everything we want. It's full of stars—special shout out to performances from Jeffery Wright, Benicio Del Toro, Frances McDormand, and Timothee Chalamet. It's, of course, gorgeous to look at, even delivering an absolutely stunning animated section.
It may not be Anderson at his tip-top form, and I don't think people will love this, but I did.
12. Riders of Justice
dir. Anders Thomas Jensen
Definitely feels cut from a less prestigious cloth than Another Round, and part of that is certainly the fault of a title and poster are that are truly just total dog crap, but there's something really remarkable hidden right below the surface here, and Mads Mikkelsen feels uniquely positioned to draw it out. Between this poor sales job, the shadow of Another Round, and the fact that it's in Danish, this is just destined to be a 2021 hidden gem, which is a shame. It puts a precarious amount on its plate both in genre and theme, yet it does an admirable job of balancing it all.
Are all Danish movies this dark? It feels like the few Danish movies I've seen are treading in extremely murky waters. Someone needs to check on the people of Denmark.
13. Nomadland
dir. Chloé Zhao
Gorgeous, visceral, tactile, and heartbreaking. It's incredibly American, but it's also so much more internal than that, which I'm glad for. I feel like one of the few that was thrilled this wasn’t a long essay on the destruction of the middle class, but rather one woman’s navigation of that space amidst a personal isolation that mirrors it.
It's an interesting pairing with Minari because they're pretty similar in construction (and even theme). These are very grounded stories punctuated by much more poetic interludes that seep in just long and often enough to keep you thinking larger.
14. The Matrix Resurrections
dir. Lana Wachowski
It would seem fitting, given that The Matrix is about the paradox of free will and destiny, that its reboot manages to balance so many similar paradoxes. Is this fan service or a fan taunt? Is this a rehash or something original? Is all the meta commentary genius or annoyingly snarky? Is this all corny or cool as hell?
Of course neither and both are true, making this a "Wow, I didn't realize you could do that" type of movie. Given, or maybe forced into (again with the paradoxes), the opportunity the create a fourth Matrix movie, Lana Wachowski exhumes and reanimates the series in a way I didn't think was possible. Yes, I have seen all the movies. I rewatched the original last year and confirmed that, while I don't love it as many do, it's clearly a titanic piece of filmmaking that set the stage for so much. So I recognize that me really enjoying this installment very well may not speak for a diehard fan who feels betrayed by the big swing Wachowski took here.
But it's in conversation with so much that, against my best efforts, continues to despair me about the film industry. I can't help but be swept up in it.
Put that first act in the hall of fame. The first 30-45 minutes are some of the very best stuff to hit a movie screen this year.
15. Shiva Baby
dir. Emma Seligman
Me, before starting Shiva Baby: "Huh, only 77 minutes?"
Me, 30 minutes into Shiva Baby: "If this continues much longer I am going to crawl out of my skin."
I think it's easy to make an anxious thrill ride without any teeth, but this has depth. I'd argue I'm not exactly the target audience of this story in many ways, yet I really related to the unique brand of misery that is a family gathering when you're graduating college yet have no clue what comes next. That this angle is simply one of many is a testament to all Shiva Baby is able to precariously balance like a house of cards—a laundry list of stressful dynamics and comedic beats alike.
16. No Time To Die
dir. Cary Joji Fukunaga
Maybe I’m just starved for blockbusters to return to theaters, but I found this largely very effective, at least by the rubric we use to grade these.
I’ve got some questions about supporting characters (mostly, why they have zero substance), but it’s large, exciting, and emotional, and balances it all well enough to make the hulking run time breeze by. Any time I started to feel my appreciation slip a little bit, they hit me with a great set piece. There's a "Nordic off-road chase" followed by a forest scene that is just big-screen movie magic.
17. Quo vadis, Aida?
dir. Jasmila Žbanić
This is upsetting and affecting because of how singular it is. It's a war film whose focus rarely leaves its main character.
It would be interesting to pair with The Thin Red Line a film that takes the opposite approach, situating itself on the front lines but featuring expanses and an impersonal approach that's able to comment on the shame of war from the other end.
18. The Rescue
dir. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, Jimmy Chin
Maybe not as rambunctiously entertaining as Free Solo (an extremely high bar), though remarkably as harrowing, still bringing the "THEY'RE GONNA DO WHAT?!" moments I crave in these kinds of documentaries.
It's all very humanist, the kind of reaffirming "faith in humanity restored" story we all inherently crave. The sheer determination here is astounding and genuinely hopeful. During the film I caught myself thinking how humans will look back at this story in 100 years and marvel how a bunch of people managed to pull this off with rudimentary means, crackpot ingenuity, and sheer bravery.
But I think this documentary's legacy, especially come Oscar campaign season, will be its production. Simply put, it's the best example of recreation I've ever seen—perhaps the only one that manages to successfully fill in the gaps with "fake" footage to a degree that it doesn't break your immersion in the film while drawing in some marvelous computer animation helping audiences orient themselves in a dark, claustrophobic world.
We all know what a 60 Minutes version of this would look like. The filmmakers elevated this to such a high level.
19. Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain
dir. Morgan Neville
As much as I tend to be enchanted by the concept of world-weary artists, I wouldn't consider myself a Bourdain acolyte. I'm interested to see reviews of this from diehard followers (of which there are many) because, from my perspective, it felt remarkably successful at dicing up and serving his multiple lives: the lovable everyman, the natural celebrity, and the indecipherable addict. It certainly feels intentional that the poster features three Bourdains, and the film delivers these in sequence with the final act truly turning up the heat and exploring matters that are equal parts illuminating and mystifying, beautiful and difficult.
20. Summer of Soul
dir. Ahmir-Khalib Thompson (Questlove)
Stunningly told and constructed, especially considering what must have been a lot of pressure to do the story justice, and especially for a first-time director.
Perhaps one inherent benefit of having a musician such as Questlove guide this ship is that it's paced out much like a concert. This documentary knows when to stop the show for a single song and when to throw three legendary artists at you in the span of five minutes. It knows when to get funny and it knows when to get heartfelt. It knows when to get loud and it knows when to cut the music.
It brings the type of investment and historical immersion I don't often experience outside of a museum while also filing neatly into one of my favorite brands of documentaries: the "I can't believe they got this all on video and I can't believe we're just now seeing it" kind.
It's a real labor of love and a bonafide historical document. I feel like I need even more. I want to see this at the center of a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame exhibit with some photographs and posters and such.
21. A Quiet Place Part II
dir. John Krasinski
John Krasinski is a good director, man. This wasn't an easy movie to make a sequel to, and he pulled it off. It's as good as the original, just in different ways now that the premise is no longer novel and refreshing on its own.
The decision to shift the focus onto Cillian Murphy and Millicent Simmonds is brilliant. They're the stars here, and he knows it. While Blunt and Jupe (both of whom I love) are almost reduced to the B-plot, Murphy and Simmonds anchor a movie that's solid as a rock—well-constructed and hitting the right notes and the right moments, even if he insists on making the monsters a full-blown supporting character. (When has a movie ever benefitted from this?!)
I hope Krasinski is done with this series, because I'd like to see him take a crack at something else. The guy has a great feel for how movies tick.
22. Old Henry
dir. Potsy Ponciroli
I simply cannot believe we got a movie starring Tim Blake Nelson in 2021.
If you're the type of person to whip your head around upon hearing that elevator pitch, this is a winner. It's a throwback of a sort with heavy Unforgiven influence (a good thing) but a little lacking in heft outside of the stellar performances and precisely calculated mood.
I can't decide whether the complete and total lack of attention this has received is a total shock or perfectly logical. Either way it's another diamond in the rough––perhaps the best––from a year that's contained a few.
23. House of Gucci
dir. Ridley Scott
Structured and scaled like a Greek tragedy but gracious enough to not take itself too seriously, House of Gucci is almost an Italian Wolf of Wall Street. Unfortunately it sands off much of the exultant enjoyability and sick bite which are, uh, the whole point of that movie.
I really enjoyed this, and am a bit shocked people seem disappointed after that trailer (what were they expecting???). I feel a bit weird that I'm walking out thinking it almost wasn't campy enough. Give me more of the soundtrack! Give me more hammy accents!
24. Zola
dir. Janicza Bravo
When you think "movie adapted from a tweet thread" (especially this particular tweet thread) your first imagined aesthetic is a blitz of sound and graphics. There is some of that, but this is far more moody than I anticipated, and I love it for that. The tone is a real masterpiece, and it presents itself as more American Honey (shoutout to another great Riley Keough performance) than Spring Breakers. It would've been easy to show this story, but Janicza Bravo took the time to tell it. This is all the product of a careful director, which is very cool to see for something based on a chaotic series of tweets.
25. The Card Counter
dir. Paul Scrader
The type of movie you can only make when you're 75 years old and basically rolling out of bed and into confident brilliance each morning. That's not to say we shouldn't appreciate it. The opposite, actually. It takes 50 years to be this casually wonderful but not many artists can or will pull that off.
I found Isaac and Sheridan to be fantastic, and while I don't think Haddish totally works in this role she's at least fascinating with a winning screen presence.
26. The Novice
dir. Lauren Hadaway
Like a streamlined Whiplash or Black Swan, but also a sports movie. Each of those two have elements of competition and self-immolation, but this has both.
In addition to a really pristine aesthetic execution, it's also got some things to say about "hustle culture" and other silly things we've come to value as a society over simple happiness and wellbeing.
Maybe not quiiiiite great but absolutely one of the biggest sleepers of the year and a really promising first feature.
27. Judas and the Black Messiah
dir. Shaka King
Come for Daniel Kaluuya as Fred Hampton. Stay for Daniel Kaluuya as Fred Hampton. Continue to think about Daniel Kaluuya as Fred Hampton for the remainder of 2021. He was obviously great in Get Out, but he's absolutely leveled up here. So has Stanfield.
Dominique Fishback appeared in Project Power (a movie I really disliked). I'm very glad to see she's immediately found stronger footing. This film is a far, far more fitting display of her talents, and she deserves the credit she'll soon be getting.
28. No Sudden Move
dir. Steven Soderbergh
Steven Soderbergh is a prolific director. We're talking about a 58-year-old man who has directed 28 feature films, including six since 2017. No Sudden Move bears the weight of that output, as it feels made by a man who brings a lunch pail to work in an industry filled with directors who decidedly do not—at least not these days.
This feels like someone's 28th movie, and I think I mean all that as a compliment. Soderbergh is just an expert at this point, and this one spins a web without seeming to break a sweat, even while the disparate plot threads are perhaps too numerous and the pace unwarranting of a second watch to pick up the loose ends.
Maybe we haven't had a Soderbergh homer in a few years, but I for one am more than content sitting on my couch and watching him hit doubles, especially when they're this brand of talky, "adult" movie that seems to have been pushed to the sideline in Hollywood. It won't be one I rave about at the end of the year, but I simply can't be mad at an ensemble, Coen-tinted crime thriller.
29. Together Together
dir. Nikole Beckwith
Sneaky good! Really charming! Explores some rarely trodden territory! Feels like a transmission from the late-2000s indie scene! Why does this have zero buzz?
It feels like these movies used to exist a lot. They’re short indies that are feel-good but a little offbeat, starring some fringe names. (I think Away We Go is a good example.) I discovered indie movies at a time when these were really popular, and if you’d have told me there’d be a day when studios are desperately cranking out movies to fill online streaming services, I’d have assumed these would be a lot more popular than they are, yet it seems like they’ve sorta fallen out of fashion?
Regardless, I love the ways in which this explores platonic friendship through a rom-com lens. There’s care taken to specifically avoid an obvious romantic path, and it comes off really fresh and heartwarming for it. First Cow did this for male friendship last year, but this is something new and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it on screen.
It’s not a 5/5, but I really do love a sleeper 3.5/5 from a young director, and I wish more people were watching it. Ed Helms and Patti Harrison nailed it.
30. CODA
dir. Siân Heder
A totally new story fit inside a very familiar package. The upshot of this kind of proven path is that it works and we’re trained to follow it. I knew the beats ahead of time and they still got me.
CODA is just effusively charming, led by a total beam of light in Emilia Jones. It might not rewrite the book, but it’s an incredibly easy movie to be taken by.
31. The White Tiger
dir. Ramin Bahrani
If Slumdog Millionaire believes the only way out of the lower caste is through an embrace of suffering until encountering divine intervention masquerading as dumb luck, The White Tiger believes the only way out is by lying, cheating, and stealing while rebelling against all impulses (good and bad) that have been hardwired into your brain since birth. I don't know which is more depressing, but I know which rings more truth.
While it lacks some of its predecessor's spiritual beauty, this feels relatively more incisive, a kind of Indian Wolf of Wall Street, albeit with less of a tongue-in-cheek approach.
32. The Beta Test
dir. Jim Cummings, PJ McCabe
Not sure this totally works, but not sure I care. This is also what I said after watching Cummings' Thunder Road. He's a director (and writer, and actor) who is furiously carving out his little corner of the film world and, regardless of your opinions on the success and clarity of his distinctive voice, I think the whole effort is impossible not to admire, especially when it's this kind of whiz-bang fun.
I watch enough movies that I'm most insulted by the boring ones. If you're gonna go down, at least do it swinging for the fences. This film isn't that kind of admirable failure (because it's actually good), but it scratches that same itch.
Let's put our hands together for new release nutso movies we can watch on our couch after a long day at work for the price of seven dollars.
33. Benedetta
dir. Paul Verhoeven
Hollow schoolboy provocations and incisive critique of power structures in one go. The whole movie exists to play the two off each other, yet I can't help but feel one undercuts the other a little bit.
A lot of this stuff is very smart and there's also more than one fart joke. I mean, sure.
34. West Side Story
dir. Steven Spielberg
Still don't love musicals. Still don't love Ansel Elgort.
But this Steven Spielberg fella knows how to piece a movie together.
35. Jagged
dir. Alison Klayman
I'm obviously aware of Alanis' music, but I've never considered myself a fan and I didn't know much, if any, of her story. Yet I found myself really swept up in this. I was really impressed by her—not just the talent but also the immense archive of her journey she's maintained and her admirable sense of self. Alanis tells this story in the way only someone who's been ruminating on it for 25 years can. I hope one day I can reflect on my own life with this level of clarity, confidence, and wisdom.
It all makes her comments disavowing the documentary a little confusing to me, especially since I didn't read them until after I finished watching. It's unclear what's been twisted here, and her use of the word "salacious" jumps out, because it's not a word I'd use to describe this. I think this paints her very lovingly, and seems to be told almost entirely from her perspective.
36. The Velvet Underground
dir. Todd Haynes
Retrospective documentaries are rarely as engaging as those created in real time, but this really elevates itself in its construction. It's crafted with an artists' eye. I always wonder why more documentaries aren't built like this. It's so much more stimulating than your normal "talking heads and archival footage" doc.
37. Stillwater
dir. Tom McCarthy
Write out the plot to this one and you'll see how outlandish it is. There are good ideas here but I can't help but feel like, at least the ones worth keeping, would've rang more true had they been cast in an authentic light. (For an example of how to successfully do this kind of story, see Tony Scott's Man on Fire.)
I give it credit for drumming up plenty of anxiety and affection in equal measure despite a plot that's twisting exactly where you think it is, but this quite literally feels like they've fused two different films together. Miraculously, a series of endearing performances anchor a movie that skids into home with an oddly resonant, if blunt, closing moment. You can do a lot in 140 minutes.
38. Those Who Wish Me Dead
dir. Taylor Sheridan
Not very smart or distinctive, especially by Taylor Sheridan standards. It's shallower than I expect from him. But it's a good deal of fun and feels like a throwback to a kind of movie that doesn't get made much anymore.
Get this thing on the in-flight entertainment system of every plane in America and it'll find a footing. I kinda love these types.
39. Bad Trip
dir. Kitao Sakurai
It's pretty rare that I audibly laugh at movies (which I understand is weird). This had me crying real tears more than once, and that is an achievement.
This commits to the narrative arc much more than Borat did, but I think it works, which is not what I felt about Borat. Obviously people watch these movies to see the stars Punking unsuspecting victims, yet the structure feels more fleshed out here. Instead of the narrative pieces feeling like filler, they're part of a clear concept. It's like a studio comedy that's sucking in people who aren't in on the joke.
40. The Mitchells vs. The Machines
dir. Michael Rianda
Let's hear it for movies that are Pretty Good!
41. Nobody
dir. Ilya Naishuller
Lots of fun, anchored by Odenkirk playing the Breaking Bad hits. I really did enjoy it from front to back, especially a few of the character turns in the final act.
So, here's my issue: This falls into a genre I'm just completely sick of. The best way I can describe it is "Reddit-core." There's a rising tide of this type of movie, and it puts a bad taste in my mouth every single time. Kingsman, I Care A Lot, Baby Driver, and even the John Wick movies use this tone, and Nobody is just bathing in it. They're just self-aware to the point of being obnoxious, as if they're worried I'm not having fun so they have to constantly tell me I should be having fun by mashing a giant red FUN button.
Either make a more unique movie or accept that I've signed up for the stereotypes and do them well. Doing the stereotypes while constantly winking about them is annoying.
42. Cruella
dir. Craig Gillespie
It’s pretty good! Or at least better than it has any right to be. The 100-minute version of this would probably be my sleeper hit of the year. Unfortunately the film’s reach in that final act exceeds its grasp.
This is an extremely impressive Emma Stone performance. Not in the sense that she’s deserving of Oscar recognition, but in her ability to command my attention for 135 minutes of a movie I otherwise had zero interest in. It’s a talent that’s far more intangible but arguably more impressive.
43. One Night In Miami…
dir. Regina King
I always really respect when directors take a big swing on their first feature. There are well-worn archetypes we typically get with rookies, ones were there are roadmaps for success newbies can lean on when embarking on the daunting task of creating a whole movie where one previously didn't exist.
Regina King does nothing of the sort here. One Night in Miami... is slow, complicated, daring, and unique. It nails a couple of my niches: talky movies and intersecting histories. It places four legendary figures in one spot at a crucial time in both their own lives and the history of America, affording us the opportunity to simultaneously sift through the Civil Rights Movement and Jim Brown's decision to retire from the NFL. Again, this is up my alley and it's super fun.
It's very much a stage-to-screen adaptation, which, for me, means a couple things: First, it's very slow, mostly to its detriment. It takes a bit to catch its groove. Second, its very script-focused. It feels like every awards season we get these kinds of movies (see: The Report, Honey Boy, The Two Popes) where the pieces almost seem to outpace the whole. Did I love the movie? No. Did I love the performances in the movie? Yes. Ultimately this is fine, and I hope to see One Night in Miami...recognized on Oscars night, but it does leave me wanting a little bit more.
44. Finch
dir. Miguel Sapochnik
One that rewards patience. It's way too slow out of the gate, but stick around to see this thin, tired plot start to throw its weight around with pretty good affect.
Between Finch, CODA, and Palmer, it feels like Apple TV+ has found its niche in slightly above average emotional crowd pleasers, with CODA being the best of the bunch. As a streaming service, there are worse things to be.
45. I Care A Lot
dir. J Blakeson
On one hand I find myself rolling my eyes at how Rosamund Pike's character is practically identical to her role in Gone Girl. On another hand I find myself irritated she wasn't more similar. If you're going to run back a hit, at least follow the proven playbook. I hate that this is my takeaway, but I suppose it's the burden you inherit when you practically copy a character from a very successful novel and movie.
Part of what made Gone Girl so good is that, at some insane level, those were two evil characters who might exist. Larger than life, yes. But rooted in a kind of truth. I suppose these two are supposed to be rooted in the truth of capitalism, but it seems preposterous that an unassuming legal guardian and a drug kingpin find each other and wage a bloody war. There's a bag of diamonds, a flying oxygen tank, and an unlikely multi-national partnership. It's just... way goofier than the cat-and-mouse story it was setting up. And the absurdism undercuts any bite its capitalist, win-at-all-costs critique it might've had.
It's also something I'm glad Netflix is pushing. Not everything needs to be great, and I'll take all the flawed-but-interesting movies Netflix wants to shovel at me as long as they can still bring the stray hit.
46. The Father
dir. Florian Zeller
Very cleverly made and expertly acted by Anthony Hopkins and Olivia Colman. One of those movies you watch and think, "It's impossible to know how anyone else would do in these roles, yet I feel certain these were the best choices."
Beyond that unshakeable stink of "used to be a stage play" that always seems to leech on otherwise great stories, I'm not sure how much I loved this film's prodding. At some point "unflinching portrait" grows into "emotional terrorism" and I think this is at least toeing that line. Some of this is just brutal to watch, and maybe not in a productive way. Although it's possible it's just hitting too close to home (which will be the case for many).
While I respect and even admire aspects of this, I think it slots mostly into the "not quite for me" category.
47. Annette
dir. Leos Carax
Never seen anything like it!
Furthermore: What?
48. The Guilty
dir. Antoine Fuqua
Claustrophobic, sleazy, and economical, yet clumsier than all hell. I have no idea what this movie wants me to believe or feel, yet there's undeniably something here. (Or, more likely, in the original film, which I've yet to see.) The construction is admirable, as it's essentially a radio play set to screen. It's incredibly taut and thankfully brief.
One mark of a good actor is the ability to hoist a mediocre movie on your shoulders and strong-arm it into watchability. Very few others (Denzel!!!) could've salvaged this. And one thing I give it credit for is one of the better tension-breaking moments in recent memory, involving a bicyclist.
49. Bergman Island
dir. Mia Hansen-Løve
I really admire what this is doing (mining the gaps between life and fiction while extricating the past along the way), but found it languid to the point of being boring. Objectively cool but unfortunately dull.
50. The Voyeurs
dir. Michael Mohan
Like Rear Window meets Sex, Lies, and Videotape for a new generation. The only trouble is both of those movies still work in 2021, leaving this feeling a bit like a student project or thought exercise designed to bring them into the current moment.
The shortcomings are a bit unfortunate because I do think this has some smart things to say beneath the cold, surface-level sheen and clunky script.