I just finished a rewatch of the Lord of the Rings trilogy extended editions, something I was saving for after I finished season one of The Rings of Power. And I’m glad I did because I was able to appreciate the trilogy that much more, with the events of Middle-earth’s earlier age as captured in the series adding an extra weight and significance to what happens in the movies.
Some stray thoughts on each movie as I went through them…
Fellowship of the Ring
This film is so indelibly etched into my being, not to mention my favorite films of 2001 and of all time. There’s so much I could say about it—so many memories it created for me—but just one is that one of my first dates with the woman who’d become my wife was an all-day marathon of all three Extended Editions during a blizzard worthy of the Caradhras Pass.
Ok, one more: our wedding processional was a combination of “Concerning Hobbits” and “The Breaking of the Fellowship” from Howard Shore’s magisterial score.
I’ve bounced back and forth about whether this one or Return of the King is my favorite of the trilogy, but I’ve landed back on this one.
The Two Towers:
While some of the extended footage that didn’t make the theatrical version made sense as cuts, dropping Faramir’s flashback absolutely didn’t. It provided useful context for both his relationship with Boromir and his father, added color to Boromir’s character, illustrated Faramir’s motivations, and helped set the stage for the Denethor drama to come. I get that it was a long-ish scene, but they could have easily trimmed several minutes from the battle of Helm’s Deep if we’re being honest.
This remains my third-favorite of the trilogy despite having some great moments.
The Return of the King
Listening to Annie Lennox’s “Into the West” as the credits rolled provoked a deep sense memory of sitting in the theater seeing this for the first time. In a stunned stillness I attempted to absorb the enormity of the epic journey that had just concluded.
This time around I was able to better appreciate:
just how long and exhausting the journey was for Frodo and Sam
the ring as a metaphor for addiction (Gollum as a troubled addict, Frodo slowly getting hooked, Sam as conflicted loved one)
the full evolution of Aragorn’s arc from reluctant ranger to confident king (also as a model “warrior poet” a la William Wallace in Braveheart, though for some reason much more appealing???)
the courage of Merry and Pippin as they faced constant peril and/or underestimation
Gandalf’s struggle with leading and inspiring others while harboring his own doubts and guilt about sending Frodo to his likely demise
This isn’t the first major noir (fedora-tip to The Maltese Falcon) but damned if it isn’t the genre’s absolute peak: femme fatale, no-nonsense narration, crime gone wrong, investigator on the case. It’s hard to pick Billy Wilder’s best movie but this has to be near the top.
2. Memento
Seeing this in early high school was my first encounter with Christopher Nolan, Guy Pearce, and the unique thrill of getting my mind blown by a film. It’s also the rare twist-ending movie that offers more to see and untangle with every rewatch.
3. The Third Man
Most noirs of the classic era were pretty clearly filmed on backlot sets. Not The Third Man—you feel every inch of postwar Vienna’s rundown streets and cavernous sewers. Though it starts a little ho-hum, once Orson Welles shows up you’d better buckle up.
4. Notorious
Had to represent Hitchcock on this list. The triptych of Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, and Claude Rains—legends of ’40s Hollywood—turn this into a crackling espionage thriller with an all-time ending.
5. Fargo
God bless the Coen Brothers for injecting their unique brand of weird into what can often being a deadly serious genre. Add to that its emphatically rural and Midwestern flavors and you’ve got a neo-noir more vibrant and vital than an early-morning egg breakfast.
Seeing this Gore Verbinski joint in early high school did three important things: it initiated my undying love of Naomi Watts, it showed me how artful scary movies can be, and it scarred me so deeply that I subsequently swore off horror for a long time. So congrats to The Ring for killing both the VHS tape and my desire for cinematic scares.
2. Shaun of the Dead
As far as I’m concerned, this remains Edgar Wright’s best film. It establishes the tropes we’ve come to expect from the British writer-director’s oeuvre—snappy editing, ingenious use of music, an alchemical mix of humor and heart—while also injecting some scathing, 21st-century social satire into the zombie horror canon.
3. Alien
In space, no one can hear you scream “oh hell no” when an alien bursts through an astronaut’s chest and then torments the other poor souls trapped inside a spaceship with it. This was only Ridley Scott’s second film and you could argue that, in his now decades-long career, he never topped it.
4. Get Out
Though more psychological thriller than straight-up horror, Jordan Peele’s debut feature holds up beyond its hype and heralded twist simply because of how well it’s made. The cast, the script, and Peele’s attentive directorial eye all come together to create a story and setting that even a horror-averse scaredy cat like me couldn’t resist.
5. The Witches (1990)
Had to give some love to the film I watched at a sleepover as a kid and haunted me long after. Despite having read the Roald Dahl book it’s based on, I just wasn’t ready to see those evil child-hating witches come to life—though now, in retrospect, I’m absolutely here for Anjelica Huston really going for it.
Barbarian. Despite being a big baby about horror films, I went to see this opening weekend when I came into some unexpected free time. To say it’s surprising in many ways is a gross understatement.
The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. Thus far it’s managing to strike the right balance of serving a global audience, LOTR trilogy fans, and Tolkien nerds. I quit on House of the Dragon after one episode because I’ve had my fill of Game of Thrones content, but I’m all in on this one.
Bluey season 3. Every season of this show (the best on TV) has a handful of episodes that are stone-cold masterpieces, and thus far “Rain” is holding the championship belt.
Nope.With this and Barbarian, it’s been a delightfully horrific summer at the movies.
If you found high school to be a dark, inscrutable enigma with a rigidly enforced social-class structure and impenetrable lingo, you’ll deeply appreciate Rian Johnson’s lean and masterful debut feature that renders adolescence as gritty film noir. A young, sphinx-like Joseph Gordon-Levitt investigates his ex-girlfriend’s mysterious disappearance like a teen Dashiell Hammett detective, navigating double-crosses and life-or-death stakes that feel right at home in the high drama of high school.
2. October Sky
Chris Cooper and Laura Dern would be enough for a solid cast, but even at 17 years old Gyllenhaal brings the charisma and authenticity emblematic of his now long and impressive career. (Still, the secret star: composer Mark Isham’s devastating heart-punch of a theme.) The movie is about family and friendship and science and America, but ultimately it’s about a teenager with a dream. “This one’s gonna go for miles…”
3. 10 Things I Hate About You
Heath Ledger beaming with rascally charm (and pulling off an epic lip-dub years before they were cool). Julia Styles taking no prisoners. Joseph Gordon-Levitt aw-shucks-ing his way into our hearts. Sorry Clueless: this is the best ’90s Shakespeare film adaptation and it’s not close.
4. Dazed and Confused
Tag your high-school self: were you kinda skeevy like Wooderson, mama-bear protective like Jodi, effortlessly cool like Pink, pseudo-intellectual like Tony, a live-wire bully like Darla or O’Bannion, victimized like Mitch? Dazed lives on because it’s all of us, and that’s alright, alright, alright.
5. Booksmart
This directorial debut from Olivia Wilde was charming as hell. In conjunction with the natural chemistry between Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever as straight-laced overachievers out for one crazy night before high school ends, Wilde’s script brings the film to depths of character, understanding, and humor that are rare in debut features and especially in movies about teens.
Too many unsupervised teenagers at a fancy house. Red Solo cups strewn about. A couple making out. A skater kid sliding down the stairs into a tower of beer cans. Someone throwing up at just the wrong moment.
Welcome to a high-school movie house party.
Despite seeing this kind of party depicted on screen over and over again, I never actually went to one in real life. I was an introverted and mostly well-behaved Christian lad who considered sex, drugs, and drinking taboo. Which is how I usually found myself on Friday nights hanging out with my church youth group friends.
It was a lot more fun than it sounds! We goofed off, played games, pranked each other, watched movies, and shared an occasional deep discussion.
I’m grateful for those times because they kept me out of serious trouble and proved you don’t need mind-altering substances to have a good time.
But they weren’t very cinematic.
A Better Story
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to adopt a deeper appreciation for the high school movie party. The best ones aspire to more than just adolescent revelry; they act as a catalyst for chaotic, dramatic, comedic, or romantic things to happen to the main characters in order to further the story.
Sometimes those things happen away from the ruckus, in a quiet or intimate moment. Think Kat and Patrick bonding on the swings in 10 Things I Hate About You or Josie crushing on Guy while trying to conceal her ruse in Never Been Kissed.
And sometimes the heightened environment of a party can bring simmering conflicts to a boil, as with Seth and Evan’s street showdown in Superbad or Amy and Molly’s bracing blow-up in Booksmart.
Those crucial moments didn’t happen while the characters sat at home dutifully studying for a test or even watching things happen to fictional characters on a screen.
They had to go get into a little trouble. They had to take chances and for once risk not making the safest choices.
If I could share a bit of wisdom with my 15-year-old self—and any other high schooler who’s a little too comfortable with the safe and responsible path—it’s this: Lighten up just a little bit. You can stay true to your convictions (which, by the way, are going to change) while still living your young adult years to their fullest.
So go ahead: join that party. Cheer on Schmidt pulling the knife from his back in 21 Jump Street. Jump into the “Paradise City” mosh pit in Can’t Hardly Wait. Cruise through a moon tower kegger like in Dazed and Confused.
Find ways to make a better story. Because that’s L-I-V-I-N.
I’m very excited to share a new thing I’m part of that’s now live on the internet: Cinema Sugar, a website/newsletter/social media destination for people who love to see, think about, and talk about movies.
Our mission statement:
We are not interested in celebrity culture. We are not interested in hate-watching, takedowns, or tasteless criticism. We believe movies make life sweeter.
It started as an idea from my pal and Chicagoland singer-songwriter Kevin Prchal, with whom I love to nerd out about movies and movie culture. We’ve been building out the brand and website for the last month and a half or so, and are thrilled it’s finally out in the world.
Each month will be dedicated to a different theme or genre, featuring top fives, interviews, curated playlists, movie night guides, personal essays, and so much more.
We’ve got a lot more cool stuff coming, so please check out the website, sign up for the newsletter, and join us on social media to talk movies with your fellow movie lovers.
When we make our art, we are also making our lives. And I’m sure that the reverse is equally true.
That line is from Look & See, the beautiful documentary about the life and work of Wendell Berry.
I think about it often, and I thought about it again recently as I feasted on two pieces of art simultaneously: the limited documentary series The Last Movie Stars on HBO Max and Alissa Wilkinson’s new book Salty: Lessons on Eating, Drinking, and Living from Revolutionary Women.
In sync
Whenever I notice disparate works of art speaking to each other, I call it synchronicity. It’s one of my favorite things to write about because discovering new connections feels both satisfying and alluring.
The Last Movie Stars, which chronicles the lives, careers, and decades-long romance of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, offered a way into this synchronicity not through the series’ content but through its form. As director Ethan Hawke tells the stories of the two subjects, through clever editing he intercuts scenes from Newman’s or Woodward’s movies that speak directly or obliquely to whatever they were going through at the time in their lives.
Examples include contrasting Woodward’s real-life misgivings about being a mother with her performance in The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds as an abusive, resentful mother (acting with her real-life daughter!). Or reckoning with Newman’s own struggle with alcoholism using boozy scenes from The Verdict—a performance inspired by director Sidney Lumet imploring Newman to reveal more of himself in it.
Newman touches on this paradigm explicitly during one archival interview used in the series:
Our characters rub off onto the actor. Probably one of the areas of great discontent is that they probably feel, as human beings, they are merely a series of, a collection of old characters that they played. I sometimes get that feeling about myself, that I have become a series of connectives between the parts of the characters that I really like. And I’ve strung them together into kind of a human being.
A salty symbiosis
That idea of one’s work and life feeding each other while building a kind of accretive self echoed in my mind as I read Salty, Wilkinson’s collection of biographical essays spotlighting nine notable 20th century women who comprise her ideal (if hypothetical) dinner party.
Whether they were writers (Hannah Arendt, Octavia Butler, Maya Angelou), artists (Agnes Varda), activists (Ella Baker), or cooks (Enda Lewis, Elizabeth David, Laurie Colwin), all of them used what they learned in their work and lives to inform—and, ideally, improve—the other:
Chef Edna Lewis bringing black Southern cooking to 1960s New York and then beyond with The Taste of Country Cooking
Filmmaker Agnes Varda translating her fascination with the ordinary into cinematic curiosities
Civil-rights activist Ella Baker practicing communal hospitality as a catalyst for social change and empowerment
These women weren’t movie stars like Newman and Woodward, but their lives were still reflected in their work. They too—to toss a metaphorical salad—were pulling from the strung-together assemblage of old characters they played throughout their lives, making meals with the ingredients available to them.
And that’s all we can do, really. Per Wendell Berry, we make our lives and art concurrently, whether we know it or not.
My compliments to Alissa Wilkinson and Ethan Hawke for the meals they’ve created in these works of art, which are infused with moments and lessons from their own lives that made them all the richer.
I’m creating my movie best-of lists retroactively. See all of them.
As usual with this silly but enjoyable series, I started by consulting my logbook for all the movies from 2000 I’ve seen. That initial list of 36 films had some pretty easy cuts (Men of Honor, My Dog Skip) and plenty of titles I liked but knew were bound to be honorable mentions.
Deciding on my final 10 was probably the easiest time I’ve had doing so in a while. Then again, it required me to cheat for the first time.
A personal and family favorite that’s not only underrated as a romantic comedy but also as a Chicago movie.
3. Almost Famous
Kinda surprised this didn’t hit the #2 spot, but that doesn’t negate my love for it as a musician and former journalism student.
4. High Fidelity
Another great Chicago movie, and one that hit me hard when I saw it in college. So much so that I incorporated it into an essay I wrote for a writing class about my (at the time) brief and unsuccessful dating history. To quote Cusack’s Rob Gordon: “I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and… I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that’s suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.”
5. Cast Away
Hard to argue with Russell Crowe winning Best Actor for Gladiator, but Tom Hanks winning his third Oscar for this role as a cap on his decade-long hot streak would have been just as good. (See also: my list of top movie music moments.)
6.Gladiator / The Patriot / Remember the Titans
An unprecedented three-way tie! It had to be done. All are historical epics (that are just barely historical), led by A-list movie stars at their peak, and became the Holy Trinity of time-wasters for lazy social studies teachers during units on Ancient Rome, the Revolutionary War, and Civil Rights respectively. (See also: Fatherhood in The Patriot and Interstellar and Remember the Titans in my top movie music moments.)
7. In the Mood for Love
A gorgeous, transfixing meditation on love, modernity, and the things we don’t say.
8. Best in Show
Of all the indelible moments from this absurdly hilarious mockumentary, “busy bee” sticks out the most.
9. Frequency
Throughout middle school I used my Juno email account to send occasional dispatches blurbing the movies and TV I was enjoying at the time to friends, family, my soccer coaches, church family friends—basically whoever I knew who had an email address. (In retrospect they were pretty similar to my Media of the moment series.) All that to say, I remember raving about Frequency in one of those emails. Rewatched it last year and it holds up.
10. The Emperor’s New Groove
If I’m being honest, this spot is mostly for the supporting character Kronk, who elevates the movie from fairly rote Disney animation fare to sublime quotable comedy.
Blood, Sweat & Chrome: The Wild Story of Mad Max: Fury Road by Kyle Buchanan. An excellent oral history of one of the greatest films ever made. One of the many tidbits: George Miller’s first choice to play Max was Heath Ledger, which I now can’t stop thinking about.
The Northman. A brutal, heavy-metal fever dream from Robert Eggers.
A World Lit Only By Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance by William Manchester. Published thirty years ago, its scholarship is out of date and perspective rather flippant, but the writing remains spicy and illuminating.
We Own This City. A sequel of sorts to The Wire that was just as compelling with a much shorter runtime. Gotta hand it to HBO Max, which has accounted for pretty much all of my TV viewing over the last year or so between this, Winning Time, Minx, and Station Eleven.
Top Gun: Maverick. The first Top Gun is kinda bad. This one is not.
The Office BFFs: Tales of The Office from Two Best Friends Who Were There by Jenna Fisher and Angela Kinsey. I’ve listened to the Office Ladies podcast since the beginning—where much of the book’s content has been covered previously—but still found this enjoyable and informative.
How the Word is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America by Clint Smith. This fits into a nonfiction genre I really enjoy, where the author visits various places/people that connect to the book’s central theme and explores their histories. Smith covers some stuff I was already familiar with but much I wasn’t—including that the Statue of Liberty has shackled feet.
Recently I thought I should make a list of my top 10 films of all time. Making best-of lists is a hallowed tradition on this blog after all, so why not go for the big kahuna?
Because it’s insane, that’s why. As Roger Ebert wrote: “Let us agree that all lists of movies are nonsense.”
And yet.
As with other forms of nonsense, making lists of movies retains its allure in spite of the absurdity. It’s fun, frustrating, and futile all at once.
Let’s dive in.
It takes two
Once I started putting together my initial longlist to consider, I quickly realized narrowing it down to one Top 10 wouldn’t do. Choosing 10 films from a century’s worth of options would mean leaving out too many iconic (to me) films and rendering this exercise pure masochistic nihilism.
So I gave myself an out. Two, actually.
First, hearkening back to my Favorite Films of the 2010s, I decided to build the list based on genres. This helped provide structure and ensure a wider representation for my picks. Second, I allowed for two films per genre, representing a Legacy pick (before 1980) and a Modern one (after 1980). With two important exceptions, this held true.
Those criteria established, the selections fell into line fairly easily. It felt good to have similar films from different eras paired up rather than pitted against each other. (It did not feel good to leave off so many contenders I love, but such pain is the cost of this endeavor.)
Notes/caveats:
The list is ordered alphabetically by genre, with the legacy selection listed first in each.
I didn’t rank or annotate the films because they speak for themselves.
The selections represent my taste at this very moment. Maybe I’ll revisit this every decade like the Sight & Sound poll to keep myself honest.
Disagree with a film’s genre placement? Leave a comment or let me know and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.
Enough throat-clearing. I give you:
The Greatest Films of All Time
Action/Adventure: Die Hard and Mad Max: Fury Road
Comedy: Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Anchorman
Drama: It’s A Wonderful Life and Unbreakable
International: The Battle of Algiers and The Lives of Others
Musical: Singin’ in the Rain and Once
Noir: Double Indemnity and Brick
Romance: Casablanca and Brokeback Mountain
Sci-Fi/Fantasy: Back to the Future and Lord of the Rings
Thriller: Rear Window and Memento
Western: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and Hell or High Water
Jackass Forever. A dirty, cringey, gut-bustingly funny cinematic soul-cleanse. Bound for my end-of-year top 10 just like the other Jackass movies.
Everything Everywhere All At Once. I think I need to see this at least twice to fully appreciate it, not for any plot reasons but because it really lives up to its title.
Winning Time. I enjoyed this HBO Max show enough to keep watching, but not enough to stick with it after the first season ends next week.
A World Lit Only By Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance by William Manchester. Just started reading this and know already it will be a feast. More to come.
Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood. Richard Linklater’s latest film synthesizes elements from two of his previous ones: the quotidian nostalgia of Boyhood and the rotoscope animation style of A Waking Life.
Summer of Soul. The two words that came to me after watching this concert documentary: exuberance and excellence.
Index, A History of the: A Bookish Adventure from Medieval Manuscripts to the Digital Age by Dennis Duncan. Three stars for the book itself, five stars for the title.
The small movie theater near me temporarily closed in March 2020 due to COVID, but then sadly never reopened. (The one movie I got to see there before the end was Knives Out—not bad…)
Whoever closed the building for good clearly didn’t take a peek around the corner, because these movie posters are still on display over two years later:
For posterity:
Minions 2
Invisible Man
F9
Trolls World Tour
The Way Back
The Hunt
As a friend of mine replied after I sent a photo of this sad, sun-bleached time capsule of another era: “Not a single one I’d want to hang on my wall, otherwise I’d be making some calls!”
If COVID had struck just a few months earlier, the posters for Parasite or Once Upon a Time in Hollywood might have graced these cases. But that’s March at the movies for you.
I’m creating my movie best-of lists retroactively. See all of them.
We’re now over 20 years away from the films in question. This means my impressions of the ones I haven’t rewatched somewhat recently are encased in metaphorical amber, for better or worse. It also means I wouldn’t have seen a good number of them until years after they came out, which will grow only truer the farther I go back.
Regardless, this year’s crop is quite top-heavy, with some all-time keepers landing in my top 4. Contrast those with some all-time stinkers (hello Corky Romano and Pearl Harbor) and it adds up to a notable year at the movies.
On to the list…
1. Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Had to go with my heart on this one, my favorite and the best of the trilogy. (The #1 Trilly.) I’d only vaguely heard of the original books before seeing the trailer on TV. Once I did see the movie in theaters (probably more than once) I was hooked, reading the whole trilogy before Two Towers came out the following year. Because of that familiarity I had with the subsequent films, I especially treasure this one (and its Mt. Rushmore-worthy original score) for the pure cinematic experience it bestowed upon me like a gift from Galadriel. (See more LOTR posts.)
2. Memento
Making this #2 was an agonizing decision. Really, Fellowship of the Ring is 1a and Memento is 1b—a dynamic head-and-heart cinematic dyad with vastly different styles yet equally excellent stories and execution. It was my first encounter with Christopher Nolan, Guy Pearce, and the unique thrill of getting my mind blown by a film. (Note: this is listed as a 2000 film on the internet, but that’s when it premiered at a film festival and I only consider a film’s wide release date to be its official one.)
3. Ocean’s Eleven
One of the most rewatchable movies ever.
4. Zoolander
One of the most quotable movies ever.
5. Enemy at the Gates
This was one of a handful of war movies released around this time—along with Saving Private Ryan, The Patriot, and We Were Soldiers to name a few—that helped to define that genre for me, for better or worse. And this is definitely one of the better ones thanks to the performances by Jude Law, Ed Harris, and Rachel Weisz.
6. The Royal Tenenbaums
Peak Wes Anderson in the best way.
7. Escanaba in Da Moonlight
Written and directed by Jeff Daniels, a Michigan native, this small and delightful indie focuses on the peculiarities of hunting culture in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Read my review.
8. Black Hawk Down
Add this one to my aforementioned “war movie canon” as well.
9. Monsters, Inc.
Even second-tier Pixar like this is still first-rate compared to animated movies in general.
10. The Mummy Returns
What a year for Rachel Weisz! If Dagmara Dominczyk in The Count of Monte Cristo was my 2002 cinematic crush, Weisz in this swashbuckling (if kinda silly) sequel was my 2001 one—and not just because she’s a librarian.
My recent experience with the Band of Brothers podcast made me realized I’m very much a fan of the modern trend of “official” companion podcasts released alongside limited series by the show’s creators—Watchmen and Station Eleven being two recent examples I enjoyed and appreciated.
These are slightly different beasts from the popular post hoc recap podcasts of long-running sitcoms like Office Ladies and Parks and Recollection (two other favorites). Such pods return to their shows years after they ended and usually require a much bigger time investment, given the protracted length of traditional TV shows.
A notable and early hybrid of these approaches: the Official LOST Podcast, hosted by LOST showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. It ran concurrently with the show from 2005-2010 and was probably the first podcast I and many others ever followed. Listening to it meant subscribing via iTunes and then syncing new episodes to my good ol’ click-wheel iPod.
Regardless of the structure, all of these podcasts have the benefit of access to cast, crew, and behind-the-scenes insights you can’t get elsewhere. But you really have to love the original show and the podcast hosts to make them worth your while.
(In that way they’re like modern iterations of DVD commentaries. Which, though eclipsed by the rise of streaming and decline of physical media, are still alive. And long may they live.)
Extra Life: A Short History of Living Longer by Steven Johnson. My favorite author does it again, using his signature storytelling savvy to explain how human life expectancy has doubled in the last century. Vaccines, epidemiology, pasteurization, drug regulation, penicillin, and automobile safety sound like dry topics, but how they came to be is anything but.
KIMI. A lean techno-thriller from Steven Soderbergh.It’s like Searching meets Rear Window with a dollop of COVID paranoia.
Station Eleven. The book was on my list of favorite books of the 2010s, so I was cautiously optimistic about this limited series adaptation. Glad to find it totally lived up to the spirit of the book while thriving as its own thing. Special shout-out to episodes 1 and 9 for being exceptional television.
Hud. That Paul Newman was a gosh-darn movie star.
We Had A Little Real Estate Problem: The Unheralded Story of Native Americans & Comedyby Kliph Nesteroff. Told in rotating vignettes, this book spotlights Native American performers and comedians who have used comedy to cope and reckon with the shameful abuse of Native Americans throughout history.
The Tender Bar. A likable coming-of-age story, with Ben Affleck as the wise and weathered uncle.
The Last Duel. A stellar cast and interesting premise, telling the story and fallout of a rape in medieval France from multiple perspectives. It’s good but also a tough sit.
In 2021 I only saw three movies in theaters, which is two more than I saw in 2020. A personal historic low, it probably goes without saying. But ultimately I’m just grateful to be able to watch great movies, whether at the theater, on a streaming service, or with a library Blu-ray.
To that end, here are the 2021 movies that stuck with me.
10. Shiva Baby
This indie comedy had me cringing but also grinning at its fairly astounding tonal tightrope act, which follows a sardonic young Jewish woman navigating family, friends, and lovers during a shiva. Such a singular, confident debut from 26-year-old (!) filmmaker Emma Seligman.
9. C’mon C’mon
I was split on Mike Mills’s last two features: 2017’s 20th Century Women was as middling as 2010’s Beginners was marvelous. This feels like a return to form, with Joaquin Phoenix as a radio journalist caring for his estranged sister’s nine-year-old son during her absence. It’s a closely observed, touching, and tumultuous portrait of surrogate parenting, and echoes this line from the Richard Powers novel Bewilderment: “Nine is the age of great turning. Maybe humanity was a nine-year-old, not yet grown up, not a little kid anymore. Seemingly in control, but always on the verge of rage.”
8. Pig
Yet another self-assured directorial debut, this one from Michael Sarnoski about a reclusive former chef (Nicholas Cage) who embarks on an illuminating quest to recover his abducted truffle-hunting pig. It’s become pat to laud Cage for the roles in which he really Gets Serious (in contrast to the Go Crazy ones), but it’s nevertheless refreshing when he does tap into his innate performative greatness. And he does here to a quietly magnificent level.
7. In the Heights
With all due respect toSpielberg’s West Side Story, this was the superior NYC-set movie musical of 2021. Better songs, far better talent and chemistry among the leads, and a better overall story that nods to tradition while dancing to its own beats. The mark of a good musical: whenever I listened to the soundtrack (which was often), the songs would earworm me for days. Also recommend In the Heights: Finding Home, the book by Lin-Manuel Miranda and his collaborators about bringing the stage and film versions to life.
6. Passing
This directorial debut from actress Rebecca Hall kinda knocked me out. Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson star as two African American women and reacquainted friends in 1920s New York City, one of whom is “passing” as white. Facade cracks of many kinds abound, and the film uses the fullest of its rather short runtime and black-and-white cinematography to pack a dizzying amount of portent through them.
5. The Green Knight
I went into this wholly ignorant of the source material but was eventually won over by the haunting filmmaking (by David Lowery, whose A Ghost Story was one of my favorites of 2017) and mesmerizing performances—specifically Dev Patel, whom I hadn’t seen since Slumdog Millionaire (meh). Ultimately it was the film’s perfect ending (maybe the best of the year?) that transformed a pretty good experience into something I knew I’d have to revisit.
4. Dune
Similar to The Green Knight, I went into this as a complete Dune newbie and emerged a fan, both of the world the film created and how Denis Villenueve went about it. Compared to Villenueve’s previous film Blade Runner 2049, which was pretty but alienating, Dune is gorgeous (in a deadly way) and mesmerizing—so much so I had to watch it twice in pretty quick succession. Not sure I’ll actually dive into the novels though.
3. Procession
This Netflix documentary features a group of men who were molested by Catholic priests as boys using drama therapy as a way to overcome their long-festering trauma, by making (non-graphic) short films dramatizing their experiences. Despite (or maybe because of) the heavy subject matter, it’s a really beautiful portrait of a brotherhood formed by shared anguish as these men help each other get through their emotional journeys together.
2. The Rescue
An extraordinary documentary from National Geographic (available on Disney+) about the 2018 Thailand cave rescue, which I remember happening at the time but hitherto knew very little about. Combining arresting firsthand footage with talking heads by the amateur British/Australian cave divers recruited for the job, the filmmakers expertly show how the massive operation’s inspiring cross-cultural cooperation and logistical creativity led to a near-impossible outcome. (I mean, just read the details of the actual rescue for a taste of how preposterous it was.) It felt a little like Arrival meets My Octopus Teacher—two other top-10 films for 2016 and 2020 respectively. Other dramatized versions of the story are coming, but be sure to watch this.
1. The Beatles: Get Back
This nearly 8-hour documentary from Peter Jackson telling the story of the Beatles’ January 1969 recording sessions spoke to me on many levels. As a former drummer in a rock band, I recognized the tedium, tension, and creative thrills that hours upon hours in the studio can engender. As someone interested in the creative process, I relished watching even certified geniuses inch their way from nothing to serenading London from a rooftop in less than a month. And as a huge Beatles fan, I treasured being able to spend so much quality time with the lads from Liverpool as they worked through a difficult period together. This film feels like a miracle, and I’m glad to have witnessed it. (Watched on Disney+, which is the wrong fit for this project. Even if it introduces a younger audience to The Beatles, the long runtime will put off just as many potential fans.)
