Many great films fail to sustain a durability beyond the year of their release. 1979’s Denis Christopher lead Breaking Away, for example, topped many of that respective year’s ‘Best Of’ lists and racked up several Academy Award nominations. Unfortunately it is also one of the most forgettable, or forgotten, well recognized films of the greatest decade for movies. Similarly, Tom Hooper’s The King’s Speech was hailed as a cinematic achievement in spite of lacking (and, really, not being designed for) any kind of repetitive value. It can be identified as the first of many films in this past decade to have been created sheerly for nominations and to win awards. With each subsequent year, we’ve seen a push made for these well produced, over-marketed awards vehicles, always bolstered by big media serfs and self-employed film critics desperately hoping to have their opinions taken seriously.
As we’ve been dealt more the same in this medium, my priorities as a filmgoer have shifted. What I look for most when I watch a film is the ability to be consistently and thoroughly entertained on an intellectual level. Ideally, I want this to the point where I will need to watch the movie at least two more times to collect all of the data it has to offer. Regardless of the rigid bounds that have been imposed to determine whether or not a movie is ‘good’, as far as I’m concerned if the piece of filmmaking can provoke… anything… out of me as a viewer, then regardless of the quality or apparent flaws in the work, to some degree - what has been made has been a success.
Despite having its creative choices mocked incessantly, Fred Durst’s The Fanatic is an example of this. Technically speaking, The Fanatic is a well made film. Many have tried to liken it out to be the latest incarnation of Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. But it’s not. It’s not even in the same category as The Room, or a Troll 2 for that matter. (If you want something on par with that released recently, check out Evening Installation.) It is a self-aware horror-thriller with gaping issues related to plot and the abilities of its actors. The Fanatic attempts to use humor and interesting design schemes to cover those problems up and does so enough to create an enjoyable ride. The end result is a messy film with an admirable (or some would argue laughable) performance from John Travolta. It’s a well paced 88 minutes that does not stimulate the intellect of its audience, but at least offers something in its visceral creativity to make the viewer wonder, ‘What happened with this?’
A year ago I had predicted that 2019 would be a rebound for movies, after taking note of the decline in general quality following 2013. I was half-correct. Although the year did not produce a staggering number of game-changing films, those that did take a swing and succeeded made a significant impact on the popular cinematic climate.
Before I present the ten films that made my end of the year list, I want to briefly go over the great movies that served as runners up and only narrowly missed out. Yes, The Fanatic is on the list.
23. Paddleton (dir. Alexandre Lehmann)
22. Pasolini (dir. Abel Ferrara)
21. Relaxer (dir. Joel Potrykus)
20. JoJo Rabbit (dir. Taika Waititi)
19. The Beach Bum (dir. Harmony Korine)
18. The Fanatic (dir. Fred Durst)
17. The Farewell (dir. Lulu Wang)
16. The Art of Self-Defense (dir. Riley Stearns)
15. Knife + Heart (dir. Yann Gonzales)
14. Lords of Chaos (dir. Jonas Åkerlund)
13. Extremely Wicked, Shocking Evil, and Vile (dir. Joe Berlinger)
12. Midsommar (dir. Ari Astar)
11. The Irishman (dir. Martin Scorsese)
A fairly strong year for horror and bleak cinema, all-around. In retrospect, when we’re looking back on 2019 as a landmark year for film — much like how we view 1989 and 1999, respectively, as big years for blockbusters — I think it will indeed be viewed as a dark chapter for pop culture at large. While television distanced itself further from its ‘Golden Age’ and found comfort in a state of progressive decomposition, movies at least fought to maintain some kind of relevancy.
Nobody could have imagined in the year 2006 that Martin Scorsese would release a film in a medium that serves as the modern equivalent to ‘direct-to-video’. Or even that many of the front-runners for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, a now antiquated ceremony that only serves to worship the ruling class and flaunt tactical politics, would come from that same source. And after struggling for years to put out worthwhile films, it seems that in 2019 Netflix finally found its footing. Many of the movies that cracked my Top 30 were funded and/or released by Netflix. This was a company that peaked with its first original film, Cary Fukunaga’s Beasts of No Nation and immediately swan-dived afterward.
I referred to the Oscars as “antiquated” but also made a note that these kinds of films are finally being recognized by the Academy. Why is that? Seems contradictory.
Awards ceremonies are looked at as unnecessary by the general public. Film, as a genre, has grown stagnant. The box office has been facing a downward trajectory for some time, narrowing the field of wide releases almost exclusively to billion dollar action figure and doll machines. On the surface, these matters should be looked at as “irrelevant”, yes. But they’re not. The truth is, as much as we gripe about the Oscars, or how movies suck, or that the calibre of talent both in front of and behind the camera isn’t up to snuff — this isn’t something that most of us want to let go.
To quote a friend of mine, the director of Coven - Mark Borchardt, “Movies are important because we decided they’re important.” There is a power to the medium of film, much like there is a power found within the pages of a novel, that is difficult to put into words. These are not things that can be replaced by personalities or short-form storytelling. Movies themselves are not dying, but maybe the way they have traditionally been made is — or is about to. If there were a time to evolve the medium and change the way stories are told in film, it would be now. A different kind of ‘movie’ may need to be constructed in order to enforce that inevitable return to relevance.
There is something to be said about film being a communal experience, and an exchange of energy and ideas between a filmmaker and their audience. Even if serialized and unscripted storytelling is more en vogue at the moment, it is too vast to be replaced.
10. Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-Ho)
Every armchair film critic in the west just discovered Korean cinema this year. My, how cultured you must be to have watched and enjoyed Parasite. (I am, indeed, being a snob.) To be clear, Parasite is a wonderful movie. When it was released in South Korea and I managed to receive a screener, it was a breath of fresh air. It couldn’t have arrived at a more perfect time because, to that point, much of the year’s releases had left me dry. We don’t have as many movies out in theaters as we do tulpas posing as movies. These things convince you in the moment that you’re watching a legitimate film and it takes about two weeks to realize that you got duped, that you’d been had. That thing you watched wasn’t a film, it was a puppet show performed out of a cardboard box and you got awed by the spectacle of it.
Parasite has intentionally created a discourse about ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ that has been hijacked by the American press to feed into this ‘eat the rich’ mentality (which, admittedly, the film is partially about). The way that I’ve felt about this movie, simply due to the culture surrounding it, is probably the same way many critics have begrudgingly felt about Joker. You want to neg it because there is a distaste for those propping it up and why they are propping it up. But Parasite is too good to ignore.
Bong Joon-Ho as a filmmaker is very ‘hit / miss’ in my book. He is similar to Guillermo Del Toro in that, from time to time, he gets too big for his britches and winds up fumbling his films with ambition. Snowpiercer, Okja, and The Host specifically suffer from a desire to create overwhelming, fantastical stories without topographical bounds. Parasite is a very Korean film and it speaks to the culture there using something that, in spite of location, we can all intrinsically relate to. What Parasite does best is critique not only the rich but the working class — which is something that has been greatly overlooked in much of the commentary about this film.
09. Marriage Story (dir. Noah Baumbach)
Imagine making a deeply personal film that is likely an allegory for your previous marriage. You get two of the most popular actors working to play surrogates of your ex-wife and yourself. You make a tremendous film, a worthy successor to Kramer vs. Kramer. And then the internet has its way with it, taking one scene with 55 seconds of over-acting (55 seconds that really should have been shaved off) and rendering your movie completely dismissible to a portion of the mainline audience. That is what surrounds Marriage Story at the moment.. Will that matter come awards time? Of course not, not even close. Most of those voters are probably just discovering Scumbag Steve memes.
Marriage Story is a frustrating film and that is why it is a successful film. The relationship between Adam Driver’s Charlie and Scarlette Johansson’s Nicole is believable and the differences between them, that lead to the dissolve of their marriage, touch on familiarities that can be found in any relationship. It makes the decisions that these characters make all the more infuriating to watch.
The best performances in this movie come from those occupying supporting roles. Laura Dern steals the show and, if there is any justice, will be the front-runner at the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. Ray Liotta and Alan Alda, also, make the most of their limited screen time. Liotta is the effective shark you want in the courtroom when you’re getting hammered and Alda is the kind, ‘warm blanket and a cup of tea’ offering attorney you would want to coddle you into accepting failure and immediate death. The level of talent in front of and behind the camera cannot be overstated. This is Noah Baumbach’s best film.
08. Honey Boy (dir. Alma Har’el)
Honey Boy is an exquisite character-piece by director Alma Har’el and writer/star Shia LaBeouf. It is a thinly veiled biopic about LaBeouf’s upbringing, living out of a rundown hotel room, dealing with an abusive father who can’t seem to grow up or pull his life together, and building momentum as the star of the Disney Channel sitcom Even Stevens. It is a lot for a young child to endure and have to process and this movie places LaBeouf’s once deteriorated mental state and obnoxious desire to be taken seriously as an actor into a better context.
LaBeouf, like his fellow Disney Channel alum Ben Foster, for years had suffered from a case of being somewhat of an over-actor. And like Ben Foster, it took Shia LaBeouf some time to grow into the version of himself he’d been aching to be. Maybe hopping in and out of personalities had something to do with that, picking up aspects of himself he’d always wanted to embrace but never felt comfortable with until the veneer of a character gave him a chance to. He is one of our more fascinating and self-indulgent ‘famous people’ and yet, in Honey Boy, he not only gives the best performance of his career but for the first time fully disappears into the role of James, his father.
Noah Jupe’s performance is also not to be understated as LaBeouf or “Otis” in this film, the child actor at the center of the story. Jupe is required to carry significant weight in Honey Boy and he does not falter for a second. With the exception of FKA Twigs whose role, in fairness, does not require much of her, every actor in this movie is firing on all cylinders.
07. Uncut Gems (dir. Josh and Benny Safdie)
Good Time was my number one film of 2017. I was so impressed by the Safdies ability to create, or recreate, a visual New York texture that felt authentic that it easily won me over. Good Time was something to be injected into modern film almost for the sake of New York City’s place as a western ‘character’. For almost twenty years it had been sterilized by a bright and shining green vision that was propagandized by trustfund writers in the late aughts and early ‘10s. I am thoroughly convinced that the New York City you have seen in Sex in the City and Lena Dunham’s Girls may have never really existed to begin with, and if it had it didn’t last long. New York is what it’s always been: a grimy, crime filled city. And that is exactly how it should be portrayed.
Uncut Gems is a worthy successor to Good Time, although it does fall short in harnessing the energy captured in that 2017 film. It offers what is undoubtedly Adam Sandler’s best, most fun, and also most stressful performance to date. Moreover, it gives character actors Eric Bogosian and Judd Hirsch a chance to shine on the big screen for the first time in what feels like ages. What the Safdies perhaps do best as directors is create an ensemble of clashing characters, often played by actors you’d never expect, and use them to build a fleshed out and realistic world.
06. Climax (dir. Gasper Noé)
Climax was not a film that sold me in its opening fifteen to twenty minutes. As a matter of fact, I was ready to shut it off after taking note of the artificial home entertainment system set up around a television screen that subtly advertised a recommended viewing guide, constructed by Noé. (Don’t do that. If you want to do that, write an article or be more subtle.) I also struggled to get through an opening of fairly boring, forced character development, giving us a glimpse of mostly redundant, Jarmusch-esque conversations between characters. Everything after that, though, is gravy.
The premise of Climax is… what if there was a dance party where someone spiked the punch bowl with acid? It’s a stripped down concept for a film. And outside of the usual Gasper Noé angles and camera tricks, the visuals are not explored beyond lighting, shot lengths, and basic cinematography — which I actually commend him for. He chose not to indulge and if he had then it would have weakened the film.
Climax captures the ‘night out’ feeling better than most other films — especially those that unfold in real time, as this movie does. A large portion of the movie occurs within a single shot and it allows Noé to convey a building sense of dread that feels more and more authentic the longer the film runs. By the end of the movie, what you’re left with is disgust for the events within the story and admiration for Noé as a filmmaker for what he accomplished in 96 minutes.
05. Under the Silver Lake (dir. David Robert Mitchell)
Under the Silver Lake is A24’s strongest release of the year, which was dumped quietly on streaming after being held in containment by executives for over two years. This is David Robert Mitchell’s odd and unlikely follow up to his 2016 horror film It Follows. Admittedly, when the project was announced and a trailer initially dropped online, I was not very interested. I reluctantly downloaded a pirated copy of the film and, early this year, opted to throw it on while spending the night at my girlfriend’s. She fell asleep midway through and I finished it, having found aspects that I respected but, overall, my impression of the film was that it was just kind of… whatever. Fast forward approximately 48 hours and I started to get the reverse of that ‘tulpa’ effect that I mentioned before. Rather than exiting the movie and gradually feeling like I had eaten a styrofoam hamburger, there was a kernel of something left in my brain that informed me that I was wrong and I had to go back. This is not the first time this has happened. It had occurred in the past with pieces of art that I would eventually love — for example Twin Peaks, The Life of Pablo, and many others.
And so I watched it, again. My appreciation for Under the Silver Lake grew remarkably and I was able to enjoy its subversive nature more than I had on a sleepy first viewing. The idea of an acclaimed low-budget filmmaker being granted the keys to the Hollywood kingdom, thanks entirely to his unusual financial hit, and upon entry choosing to make this particular film is, to me, fascinating. Andrew Garfield is an unlikable yet charismatic protagonist who makes all sorts of socially taboo discoveries and never really winds up satisfied with what he finds. It’s a powerful statement on the unfortunate nature of accomplishing your goals.
04. The Standoff at Sparrow Creek (dir. Henry Dunham)
Henry Dunham made an impressive debut with The Standoff at Sparrow Creek, Cinestate’s first independent feature without S. Craig Zahler’s name attached. The Standoff at Sparrow Creek is a marvelous, tense film in vein of Reservoir Dogs. I caught it at a tiny theater in New York City to a crowd of approximately twelve people. It was released the same day as streaming and, directly because of that, drifted below the radar. Now that the year is done, I don’t see too many people talking about this film and that is much less than what it deserves.
Dunham’s Sparrow Creek is a taut crime thriller about a militia that falls into the spotlight following a mass shooting at a police funeral. Similar to Under the Silver Lake, Sparrow Creek explores a number of current social taboos and, in typical Cinestate fashion, blurs the lines between ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ effectively. The story not only legitimizes the prospect of a potential necessity in having militias in the face of a police state, but pushes the idea of authorities framing situations to break their ethical guardrails for ‘the public safety’. It’s an intriguing notion that dances through ‘false flag’ territory and winds up somewhere in Waco. I find it interesting that this film not only skated in the mainstream press, but received mostly positive reviews, given the flack that Cinestate’s other major 2019 release Dragged Across Concrete received for being far less inflammatory.
03. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (dir. Quentin Tarantino)
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is one of Quentin Tarantino’s softer films. It feels like a break from everything that has come before and a swan song for the director (in spite of insisting that he has two more films left in him, plus whatever comes of that Star Trek installment he’s working on). It’s the ultimate character-piece, a cultural statement, and a fairy tale rolled into one.
This film not only possesses Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt’s best performances, respectively, but generally also has some of the strongest acting of any Tarantino film. By stripping away the excessive action and violence that has become his hallmark, Quentin Tarantino has given his characters room to marinate and come into their own — even more than what we’ve grown accustomed to from him as a filmmaker. It’s almost as if Tarantino posed a question to himself, as to whether or not he could make an outstanding film that was as triumphant as those of his past, without allowing for a consistent thread of what arguably most people have come to recognize him for (outside of lengthy, conversational dialogue and aping iconography).
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is, for all accounts, an enormous success. It’s like jumping into the world of a novel and appropriately hopping out after two hours and change.
02. Dragged Across Concrete (dir. S. Craig Zahler)
S. Craig Zahler is one of the most subversive directors working with money behind him. After back-to-back home runs with the niche western horror Bone Tomahawk and the pulpy, Vince Vaughn lead Brawl in Cell Block 99, Zahler has produced his masterpiece — Dragged Across Concrete. But this is not an easy film to get through.
Mel Gibson and Vince Vaughn star as a couple of rule-bending cops who get suspended without pay for, all things considered, a very light case of police brutality. Both of the men, but particularly Gibson’s character Brett Ridgeman are besmirched by the media, and find themselves in a hole thanks to mounting medical expenses and a carefully planned engagement. This film offers the opposite end of a coin that The Standoff at Sparrow Creek presents to its audience and illustrates a specific case in which conveniences should have been taken to prevent an otherwise inevitable tragedy from occurring.
The violence in this movie is fast, harsh, and far from fun. But you wouldn’t know that that is what you’re in for based off of the opening thirty minutes. On the surface, it seems as if Dragged Across Concrete may have a pacing problem, things feel a little slow, but it’s not until the central issue of the story ignites that you understand the importance of spending time with the characters the way Zahler intended. The film manages to build such great stakes for Ridgeman (Gibson), Lurasetti (Vaughn), and a third party thrown into the mix - Henry (Tory Kittles), that it becomes impossible to take your eyes off the screen. Zahelr does an amazing job of creating intensely unlikable antagonists with limited means. It nudges the audience to recognize that evil does exist, and it's not necessarily the familiar undesirables we frequently come to know in day to day life.
01. Joker (dir. Todd Phillips)
There are three kinds of people that critique Todd Phillips’ Joker. There are those that rave about it, those that dismiss it, and those that enjoyed it but don’t feel it’s appropriate to hold it in high regard either due to the controversy, the director being Todd Phillips, or the fact that it is a comic book film. Time will hopefully wash those last two categories of individual away from the conversation because, to put it simply, Joker is phenomenal. It is a perfect snapshot of the era we are in and will be remembered as such. Above that, it is a remarkable piece of filmmaking.
As I watched Joker, I kept waiting for the moment where I’d be pulled out and reminded that this is a comic book film. Where are we going to get the insert that can undo everything we’ve seen and build a billion dollar extended universe? It never came. I left the theater wholly satisfied. Two weeks later, I still felt satisfied. A month later, I still felt satisfied. Upon my second, third, and fourth viewings of the film — nothing had changed. In no way, shape, or form does the fact that Joker is based upon a comic book property ever impair it. It may as well have come out of the Tim Burton Batman-era because of that.
Todd Phillips, as a director, is a very competent technician. You take a look at Hated, his documentary on G.G. Allin, Frat House - an unreleased HBO special, or even his second most recent film War Dogs, and it is evident that Phillips has talent behind the camera. Making films that are intended to be taken lightly, like The Hangover trilogy and Old School, does not make for an unserious person or artist. You can make the argument that it is talent squandered, but the talent itself is unquestionable — even if the nature of his last two films sucked the teet of Scorsese, hard. Joker is transparent about its influences and doesn’t latch to them as much as you might expect. It uses those influences as tools to inform its own story, setting, and characters — like any good film should.
Quite obviously, Joaquin Phoenix shines above the rest to give a career-defining performance as Arthur Fleck. He is pitiful, frustrating, relatable, and somebody to absolutely get behind and root for. Because it’s a movie. And if you can’t root for the bad guys in movies, where can you root for them?