It's always interesting for me to see how the overall quality of the year in film affects my selection process for annual "Best of" lists. Strong years can make it easy to decide on a top twenty, but makes ranking them a chore. Years such as this, on the other hand, feel pretty settled in terms of what's the best (don't expect me to deviate too much from the median when it comes to my top two), but then fleshing out the rest of the list is more taxing.
For me, my #14-9 slots were constantly shifting as the year progressed, and will likely continue to do so long after this publication. #20-15 feel almost arbitrary, as all of them are largely flawed efforts that wouldn't even figure into my consideration during a stronger year, but boast specific assets and memorable hooks that help them to stand out.
I don't mean to cast shade here. The point of articles like this are to celebrate, not to denigrate. And anyone who claims that there aren't
at least 20 movies worth celebrating any given year clearly doesn't watch enough movies.
First, a few shout-outs to titles that just missed the cut:
-To The Lobster for the originality of its deadpan
dystopia
-To Moana for its grand
musicality and gorgeous Pacific scenery
-To Queen of Katwe for its earthy
slice of life wrapped in a sports movie
-To The Red Turtle for its
painterly magic realism
-To The Salesman for its gripping moral complexity
-To Tanna for its vibrant cultural
snapshot of native Melanesia
-To Toni Erdmann for its droll
father-daughter absurdism
-To Tower for its powerful alchemy of testimonial, reenactment and animated abstraction
A now, the back half of my Top Twenty[-one] Movies of 2016 [UPDATED]:
#21: ELLE (dir.
Paul Verhoeven)
It's
hard to describe exactly what makes this sexual Rorschach such a
durable one. As off-putting as its provocations on rape, misogyny and
self-victimization are, it's impossible to turn away; Verhoeven
tees them up with such perverse precision for his muse Isabelle
Huppert to absolutely knock out of the park with her frosty
frankness. Even the most twisted stories can be artfully told.
#20: THE WITCH
(dir. Robert Eggers)
If
thou wouldst desire jump scares and other unholy concessions of pop
horror, deliver thyself from this film! But mayhaps if thou wouldst like to live
deliciously, to chilleth thy bones in the immaculate paranoia of
Puritans beset by unnatural providence, cultivate seeds of dread
sown upon the most commonplace of images, then prithee, permit
thyself to be seduced by its whispered devilry.
#19: THE EDGE OF
SEVENTEEN (dir. Kelly Fremon Craig)
This
tragicomic teen flick treads a fine line between jadedness and empathy, capturing the hormonal push-and-pull of youth with wry
emotional intelligence. While it announces the arrival of a fresh and
promising voice in Kelly Fremon Craig, true ownership goes to Hailee
Steinfeld, who elevates the entire project with a salty star turn
that's as heartbreaking as it is caustically funny.
#18: THE SHALLOWS
(dir. Juame Collet-Serra)
Or:
“Jaws Meets Gravity: A Guerrilla Thrilla for
Millennials”. In an otherwise arid summer at the multiplex, this
satisfying B-movie blend of tight thrills and self-aware shark
horror silliness stood out like a shimmering blue (and red) oasis. At
last Blake Lively has a bona fide top billing upon which she can
proudly hang her surfer suit, working both suspense and camp with
sheer star charisma.
#17: ZOOTOPIA
(dir. Byron Howard, Rich Moore)
A
rare message movie that succeeds in spite of being a message movie,
hitting the sweet spot between sincerity and satire. Adorably
packaged as a brightly coloured L.A. noir but with talking animals (the
world-building here is as wily as it comes), it nimbly probes ideas
of racial profiling, politics of fear, systemic bias and other such
topical themes while neither sermonizing nor trivializing them.
#16: MANCHESTER
BY THE SEA (dir. Kenneth Lonergan)
Lonergan
strikes a courageous tone in this comedy of manners built upon grief.
He's less interested in a tight, tidy story than he is
in sitting us down with his characters and trusting us to be
fascinated by the varied ways they respond to tragedy (which of
course, is never tight and tidy). Casey Affleck's face is like a
living oil-on-canvas, with layers and textures worth exploring in
every corner.
#15: I AM NOT
YOUR NEGRO (dir. Raoul Peck)
This thought-provoking
extrapolation of the unfinished manuscript of social critic James
Baldwin grants posthumous voice to his often overlooked point of view
on race relations. With punctiliously curated film clips and archival
footage, presented in a manner as carefully articulated as Baldwin
was himself, it challenges viewers to confront their own ignorance
and reconsider their understanding of what it means to be black or
white in America.
#14: SING STREET
(dir. John Carney)
The
third in Carney's incorrigible 'stealth musical' trilogy may lose the
ragged soul of Once and Begin Again, but it does gain a
more polished, humourous screenplay (his finest yet) and a healthy
dose of romantic 80s nostalgia, however sanitized. It's
impossible NOT to adore this tale of hopeless youths learning to
drown out the noise of their shit lives with creativity, brotherhood,
and rock n' roll.
#13: JACKIE (dir. Pablo Larrain)
You
have to give yourself over to its meandering psychological vibe to
get the most out of this anti-biopic. It's less a historical record
on America's most fashionable first lady than a chilly essay on
image, legacy and the mirage of Camelot, scaffolded around a wrought
iron performance from Natalie Portman. Mica Levi's suite of funereal
dirges lends unique voice to its hazy mise-en-scene.
#12: WEINER (dir.
Josh Kriegman, Elyse Steinberg)
The funniest movie of the year
was not wrenched from the minds of comics, but from the sordid
headlines of yesterday in this political-lite documentary that
chronicles the doomed NYC mayoral campaign of a disgraced congressman. Though edited as a 'reality show'-style farce,
there's a profound sadness to its account of how ideals can
become undone by ego and tabloid superficiality.
#11: SILENCE
(dir. Martin Scorsese)
Its glacial pace and tortuous
depictions make it a trying sit, but patient audiences will find
lots to unpack in Scorsese's complex meditation on faith and doubt,
wherein the act of a single step bears symbolic weight as painful as
any physical brutality. This is an epic of introspection, offering
lovely frames but no easy answers or sides to take in the quandaries
it presents on religion and imperialism.
Come back tomorrow for the top ten.
