Dark rises, and light to meet it as we approach the final chapter of 2017's story. And despite all the tragedy that such a year held, the cinema proved as inviting and comforting a safe haven as ever.
If 2016 found us in a depressed state, then 2017 was a year that looked to find the hope and optimism when we grew uncertain of the future, attempting to make sense as we went along. From films like Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri that directly confronted our morality and sense of justice, to The Shape of Water that slyly dealt with ongoing xenophobia. 2017 also gave us films based on events of the past still relevant to today, with true stories surrounding Winston Churchill, The Washington Post, and soldiers desperately clinging to hope of rescue. Even something as fake as The Greatest Showman emulated P.T. Barnum's ability to create genuine, if only superficial enjoyment from his viewers. Not to mention that 2017 finally saw attempts at greater diversity, including prominent films from black filmmakers like Get Out and Mudbound earning due attention, Greta Gerwig's Lady Bird strongly resonating with audiences, Wonder Woman's long-awaited solo venture doing justice to her iconic legacy, and Pixar doing justice to Mexico's heritage with Coco.
And even outside of films, 2017 was a year where we needed more than ever to lean on each other. Through the controversial politics, fear stoked through hatred, and the tragedies of Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, and Maria, 2017 was a year that depended on our unity. United through blocked travel bans, people risking their own lives to save others affected by those hurricanes, and the broken silence of victims of sexual abuse. Even if it was only minor, 2017 was a year defined by those still crucial moments of triumph, and even though those struggles will always be waiting, it's that camaraderie that gives one hope even in the bleakest of times.
But now it's time to move on to more upbeat territory, and to cover all of those fantastic - and heavily varied films that I saw over the year.
If 2016 found us in a depressed state, then 2017 was a year that looked to find the hope and optimism when we grew uncertain of the future, attempting to make sense as we went along. From films like Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri that directly confronted our morality and sense of justice, to The Shape of Water that slyly dealt with ongoing xenophobia. 2017 also gave us films based on events of the past still relevant to today, with true stories surrounding Winston Churchill, The Washington Post, and soldiers desperately clinging to hope of rescue. Even something as fake as The Greatest Showman emulated P.T. Barnum's ability to create genuine, if only superficial enjoyment from his viewers. Not to mention that 2017 finally saw attempts at greater diversity, including prominent films from black filmmakers like Get Out and Mudbound earning due attention, Greta Gerwig's Lady Bird strongly resonating with audiences, Wonder Woman's long-awaited solo venture doing justice to her iconic legacy, and Pixar doing justice to Mexico's heritage with Coco.
And even outside of films, 2017 was a year where we needed more than ever to lean on each other. Through the controversial politics, fear stoked through hatred, and the tragedies of Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, and Maria, 2017 was a year that depended on our unity. United through blocked travel bans, people risking their own lives to save others affected by those hurricanes, and the broken silence of victims of sexual abuse. Even if it was only minor, 2017 was a year defined by those still crucial moments of triumph, and even though those struggles will always be waiting, it's that camaraderie that gives one hope even in the bleakest of times.
But now it's time to move on to more upbeat territory, and to cover all of those fantastic - and heavily varied films that I saw over the year.
As always, some honorable mentions. Just missing out was War for the Planet of the Apes, which blended the excitement of a blockbuster with a deeply emotional and gripping moral journey, featuring breathtaking CGI and Mo-Cap, and an even more breathtaking lead performance from Andy Serkis. The Post proved that Steven Spielberg is still a master of his craft even at B-material, methodically running us through a still timely story of journalistic integrity and its importance, and also made great use out of a huge ensemble cast. The Disaster Artist was one of the year's funniest films, director and star James Franco excelling in portraying the vices and passion of the singularly odd Tommy Wiseau, made even better by the power and sweetness of Wiseau and Greg Sestero's friendship. It was by far my greatest pleasant surprise of the year, largely for the powerful, flawlessly cast young actors who believably embodied the tightly knit group of friends, and delighted with its effective and nightmarish scares, especially Bill Skarsgard's animalistic Pennywise. Mudbound was a striking and deeply felt tableau of 40's southern life, tackling issues of early PTSD and always ongoing racial barriers in sensitive yet uncompromising fashion, and factoring in a great ensemble cast bringing her vision to life makes Dee Rees one to watch.
And without further ado, my top ten best films of 2017. Put this on your "Good Morning, Missouri" wake up broadcast!
Number 10
Baby Driver
Dir. Edgar Wright
Dir. Edgar Wright
An exhilarating thrill ride that comes out sprinting and refuses to let up, Baby Driver was easily the most consistently stylish, entertaining, and endearing action movie of the year. As kinetic and joyous as his previous Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Edgar Wright directs Baby Driver as if it were a jukebox musical, swapping singing and dancing out for car chases and parkour. They say the soundtrack is the heartbeat of a movie, and that's literally the case here, as the film ebbs and flows through its set-pieces and character moments with a killer playlist of tunes, the screeching tires and the pulsing of guns synchronizing in rhythm. A cute surface gimmick that works splendidly with the onscreen action, with Wright making extensive use of practical daredevil stunts, with winding and frenzied close-shave precision that leaves me breathless and my heart pounding.
But the most surprising element of Baby Driver is how intimate a film it is, as those many tracks on Baby's queue add continually intriguing and gripping new layers. Ansel Elgort is finally given a role fitting his signature cockiness, anchoring the film with a natural charisma, and an observational silence of tremendous emotion, selling you on the tragedy of his character. It also helps that he has a terrific cast surrounding him, with the likes of Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx, Eiza Gonzalez, and an especially frightening Jon Hamm as the dangerous criminals surrounding him, but especially CJ Jones and a breathtaking Lily James that act as his moral balance, that show that somewhere beneath this stoic street criminal, is the powerful soul of a good man. "Play it again, Sam."
Number 9
Phantom Thread
Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
But the most surprising element of Baby Driver is how intimate a film it is, as those many tracks on Baby's queue add continually intriguing and gripping new layers. Ansel Elgort is finally given a role fitting his signature cockiness, anchoring the film with a natural charisma, and an observational silence of tremendous emotion, selling you on the tragedy of his character. It also helps that he has a terrific cast surrounding him, with the likes of Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx, Eiza Gonzalez, and an especially frightening Jon Hamm as the dangerous criminals surrounding him, but especially CJ Jones and a breathtaking Lily James that act as his moral balance, that show that somewhere beneath this stoic street criminal, is the powerful soul of a good man. "Play it again, Sam."
Number 9
Phantom Thread
Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Paul Thomas Anderson returns with a venture into the London couture scene, following the life of an intricate and obsessive man with similarly meticulous, elegant, and sometimes sinister fashion. Starring Daniel Day-Lewis, the film follows fashion designer Reynolds Woodcock, an obsessive man of needlepoint-specific requirements to bring his work to life, who slowly begins lashing out and losing composure when his routines are disturbed, and thoroughly detached from emotional connection, keeping secrets close to the chest. It's the closest thing Day-Lewis has come to a self-portrait, bearing similar hallmarks of his intense method performing, his alienation to those unprepared for him, but also bringing out more humorous and absurd quirks through his dedication. Even without makeup and accents, it still reminds you why Day-Lewis is one of the great acting giants.
But it doesn't rest squarely on his shoulders, as Anderson fleshes out the world surrounding him with keenly focused detail, like the little secrets Woodcock hides within the garments he fashions. Phantom Thread makes for a very atypical take on the male gaze, that while briefly tapping into the lustful eye of desire, is more interested in its other facets. The male gaze can be lustful, but it can also be neglectful, jealous, fickle, distracted, and much more, as Reynolds attempts keeping his distance from Alma, played by Vickey Krieps, who makes perfectly clear she's more than just some easel. She can also take that confusion of the male gaze to her benefit, twisting it as she pleases, as Krieps becomes one of the few actors ever to best Day-Lewis. The film is delightfully twisted as it shows the sometimes perturbing places artists draw inspiration from, and when it makes it way to the hilariously confounding ending, you truly believe that these two unequivocally deserve each other.
Number 8
Call Me By Your Name
Dir. Luca Guadagnino
But it doesn't rest squarely on his shoulders, as Anderson fleshes out the world surrounding him with keenly focused detail, like the little secrets Woodcock hides within the garments he fashions. Phantom Thread makes for a very atypical take on the male gaze, that while briefly tapping into the lustful eye of desire, is more interested in its other facets. The male gaze can be lustful, but it can also be neglectful, jealous, fickle, distracted, and much more, as Reynolds attempts keeping his distance from Alma, played by Vickey Krieps, who makes perfectly clear she's more than just some easel. She can also take that confusion of the male gaze to her benefit, twisting it as she pleases, as Krieps becomes one of the few actors ever to best Day-Lewis. The film is delightfully twisted as it shows the sometimes perturbing places artists draw inspiration from, and when it makes it way to the hilariously confounding ending, you truly believe that these two unequivocally deserve each other.
Number 8
Call Me By Your Name
Dir. Luca Guadagnino
Call Me By Your Name was one of the last movies I saw in 2017, and certainly one of the greatest surprises, as director Luca Guadagnino crafts a sensitive, and heartbreaking portrait of first love. An excellent Timothee Chalamet plays Elio, a standoffish and wayward teenage boy who eventually lets his guard down, as he more and more begins to fall for an older graduate student, played by Armie Hammer, staying at his parents' Italian mansion. Through James Ivory's deliberate and slowly unfolding progression over a six week timespan, as Elio slowly begins confronting his turbulent feelings and blooming sexual identity, the once estranged distance between the two morphs into a kindred and passionate spiritual connection, the sensual time together a chance of liberation away from judgmental eyes.
This sense of romanticized release and discovery is further complimented by its 80's Italian setting, with a downplayed but intimate sense of scope and breathy downtime, that feels like unearthing a time capsule. However, enchanting as these qualities may be, it all eventually has to come to an end. Despite the passion and freedom experienced in their settings, such a romance can only fall apart, as such a bond still bears taboo and intense personal sacrifice, especially given Oliver's origin from a pre-aids epidemic America. The film feels very melancholy with that bittersweet shadow hanging over it like a specter, and also makes that time feel evermore precious, as is Guadagnino's time with every gracious touch he brings to the pairing. Call Me By Your Name certainly pulls no punches when it comes to the aftermath of the separation, even extending into the ending credits that land like a bruising shot to the gut.
Number 7
The Shape of Water
Dir. Guillermo del Toro
This sense of romanticized release and discovery is further complimented by its 80's Italian setting, with a downplayed but intimate sense of scope and breathy downtime, that feels like unearthing a time capsule. However, enchanting as these qualities may be, it all eventually has to come to an end. Despite the passion and freedom experienced in their settings, such a romance can only fall apart, as such a bond still bears taboo and intense personal sacrifice, especially given Oliver's origin from a pre-aids epidemic America. The film feels very melancholy with that bittersweet shadow hanging over it like a specter, and also makes that time feel evermore precious, as is Guadagnino's time with every gracious touch he brings to the pairing. Call Me By Your Name certainly pulls no punches when it comes to the aftermath of the separation, even extending into the ending credits that land like a bruising shot to the gut.
Number 7
The Shape of Water
Dir. Guillermo del Toro
With his time spent in the worlds of Hellboy and Pacific Rim, it's a joy to see Guillermo del Toro return to his fairy tale roots, crafting his most thoughtful and lush film since Pan's Labyrinth. Like all of the best fairy tales, del Toro's simple premise, a new take on the timeless Belle and the Beast mold, paves way for much more layered and idealistic storytelling. Taking place within an early-sixties Cold war, the once strong paranoia and sense of superiority of the time still carry tremendous relevance today. As the military hold the strange underwater creature captive, with a scathing Michael Shannon regularly subjecting him to brutal violence, del Toro very pointedly tears into still prevalent prejudices, particularly ongoing xenophobia and lack of compassion for people and character traits foreign and uncomfortable to us, distilling them with the innocent view of a child's eyes.
Said innocence is best embodied by Elisa, the one constant ray of sunshine in this otherwise brutal and terrifying world, whose own outsider status from her muteness means she's able to connect with the creature on a personal level. She's the one spirit whose condition means she isn't marred by hatred or fear, but a genuine curiosity cutting through the verbose, but inattentive negativity of her higher-ups, brought to phenomenal life by a superb Sally Hawkins. Del Toro unfolds the film like a scary, but enchanting bedtime story, full of lovable characters surrounding Elisa (including those played by Richard Jenkins and Octavia Spencer), and fashioned with a flowing visual style that becomes a character in its own way, as it takes the form of a beautiful picturebook come to life. The result is a frightening, but gorgeous work of art that offers us fantastical escapism as it confronts the hardships of the outside world.
Number 6
Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Dir. Rian Johnson
Said innocence is best embodied by Elisa, the one constant ray of sunshine in this otherwise brutal and terrifying world, whose own outsider status from her muteness means she's able to connect with the creature on a personal level. She's the one spirit whose condition means she isn't marred by hatred or fear, but a genuine curiosity cutting through the verbose, but inattentive negativity of her higher-ups, brought to phenomenal life by a superb Sally Hawkins. Del Toro unfolds the film like a scary, but enchanting bedtime story, full of lovable characters surrounding Elisa (including those played by Richard Jenkins and Octavia Spencer), and fashioned with a flowing visual style that becomes a character in its own way, as it takes the form of a beautiful picturebook come to life. The result is a frightening, but gorgeous work of art that offers us fantastical escapism as it confronts the hardships of the outside world.
Number 6
Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Dir. Rian Johnson
No
doubt the year's most controversial movie, Star Wars fans were hotly
divided on the numerous ways in which The Last Jedi seemed to rewrite
the very fabric of the franchise, including a laughable petition to have
it struck from the canon. Now that's just unfair and reductive, because
even if you didn't enjoy it, there's still so much to admire this movie
for.
SPOILERS, by the way.
While it didn't strike the same balance that J.J. Abrams accomplished, director Rian Johnson took full advantage of his blank canvas, creating a product that reinvented Star Wars as much as it honored it, even directly turning fan theories on their head like Rey's non-eventful lineage in the meantime. Such a move really put into question if we loved new characters because they were attached to Star Wars royalty, and by ditching such pre-conceptions altogether, was able to highlight just how strong and fully established these characters stood on their own. Characters were where Johnson's architecture shined, continuing to make stellar use of the fantastic new players such as Rey and Ben Solo, as well as returning royalty - such as Mark Hamill's best performance as Luke Skywalker to date, and extracted a welcome looseness and enthusiasm from the stellar cast.
While it didn't strike the same balance that J.J. Abrams accomplished, director Rian Johnson took full advantage of his blank canvas, creating a product that reinvented Star Wars as much as it honored it, even directly turning fan theories on their head like Rey's non-eventful lineage in the meantime. Such a move really put into question if we loved new characters because they were attached to Star Wars royalty, and by ditching such pre-conceptions altogether, was able to highlight just how strong and fully established these characters stood on their own. Characters were where Johnson's architecture shined, continuing to make stellar use of the fantastic new players such as Rey and Ben Solo, as well as returning royalty - such as Mark Hamill's best performance as Luke Skywalker to date, and extracted a welcome looseness and enthusiasm from the stellar cast.
Johnson is like an excited kid bringing his fantasies to life, as well as bringing a noticeable sense of darkness surrounding the war's brutality, with a prolonged race for survival that begins to make one question if the Resistance cause is even worth the bloodshed anymore. He also goes above and beyond in technical skill, showing a practical and striking sense of rich visual storytelling, which at times veers the film close to the style of Anime. But Johnson's most controversial choices come in where he directly challenges every pre-conceived notion we have about Star Wars, and the Force, the latter in which he takes drastic new liberties in expanding. Many may be angered with Luke going Doctor Strange, but I found these decisions bold. With his additions, Johnson has done more to make the Force ever so enchanting and grand than George Lucas did with three prequels, because the Force isn't an exact science, and should be allowed to adapt and have its potential continually uncovered. And with J.J. Abrams returning to close out this new chapter he started, the future looks brighter than ever for the galaxy far, far away.
Number 5
Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri
Dir. Martin McDonagh
One of the year's most blistering and darkly comical films, In Bruges director Martin McDonagh pits us headfirst into a toxic battle of wills between a grieving and vengeful mother, and the police force she felt did nothing to bring her daughter's killer to justice. Three Billboards is a movie simmering with pent up anger, mainly carried by the immovable force of Frances McDormand's Mildred Hayes, who drags the stagnant case into the public eye, in some misguided hope that to close the case will bring much needed relief. What intentions the billboards she rents came to serve begin to twist, soon becoming a symbol of still festering wounds, that only belittle her daughter by defining her by her horrible attack, and become a clear sign that whatever hope of closure and satisfaction still won't be enough to fill a gaping hole of bitterness.
Police politics are also a heavy concept running through Three Billboards, taken from our own ongoing issues of blind brutality, unfiltered rage and prejudice, and the always destructive hivemind mentality that to criticize one is to criticize them all. McDonagh gets some hearty, decidedly un-PC laughs towards that misbehavior behind the badge, but also succeeds in giving those people humanity, like a double-edged sword that takes down self-righteous naysayers who undercut their own messages by lashing out in blind hatred. Embodied by Woody Harrelson as the chief showing compassion for Mildred's plight, and Sam Rockwell's fuming officer slowly finding his soul as he confronts the consequences of his violent actions, the film finds a genuine heart to balance out the hostility at the center of this run-down podunk town. And no ending this year hit me quite as hard as Three Billboards' fantastic cliffhanger, which even now still lingers with me.
Number 4
Coco
Dir. Lee Unkrich
Police politics are also a heavy concept running through Three Billboards, taken from our own ongoing issues of blind brutality, unfiltered rage and prejudice, and the always destructive hivemind mentality that to criticize one is to criticize them all. McDonagh gets some hearty, decidedly un-PC laughs towards that misbehavior behind the badge, but also succeeds in giving those people humanity, like a double-edged sword that takes down self-righteous naysayers who undercut their own messages by lashing out in blind hatred. Embodied by Woody Harrelson as the chief showing compassion for Mildred's plight, and Sam Rockwell's fuming officer slowly finding his soul as he confronts the consequences of his violent actions, the film finds a genuine heart to balance out the hostility at the center of this run-down podunk town. And no ending this year hit me quite as hard as Three Billboards' fantastic cliffhanger, which even now still lingers with me.
Number 4
Coco
Dir. Lee Unkrich
And while dealing with death isn't new territory for Disney, few are willing to tackle the facets of death as head-on as Coco. In fact, Pixar feels more interested in tackling symbolic death, that of intentional severance while still alive. A toxic lack of forgiveness, that even with their reasons, can slowly kill both parties through lack of acceptance, and cold-hearted dismissal. It shows Pixar once again excelling at taking weighty and delicate issues, and laying them out for children to easily understand, with just as many rewards for adult viewers. And as is custom for the studio, their visual skills have not taken a hit whatsoever, bringing an epic and glistening world to stunning life, populated by numerous instantly memorable characters, with Gael Garcia Bernal's trickster Hector running away with the show. I fall more in love with this movie every time I watch it, and I'd be remiss not to mention the film's ending scenes, where Pixar once again achieves breaking their audiences into a sobbing mess. I think we can safely put the argument that Pixar have "lost their touch" well and truly to rest.
Number 3
Dunkirk
Dir. Christopher Nolan
You'd have to wonder how a director as heady as Chris Nolan, responsible for films such as Inception and Memento, would adapt to a World War 2 setting. While less scientific than his usual oeuvre, the psychology of Dunkirk proved a seamless fit for his stamp of quality. Shifting focus between three separate and often intertwining timelines, Nolan strips himself down to the bare essentials of storytelling, directly undercutting his notorious habit of exposition, at points making this a practically silent film. Nolan veers it closer to a horror film, as the massive beaches of Dunkirk become a claustrophobic prison, and the progressively hopeless soldiers begin to shatter every passing day. Nolan takes keen interest in how the decay of a man on death's door affects their camaraderie, giving way to cowardly desperation, terrified finger pointing, and abandonment at the hands of Cillian Murphy's rescued survivor at sea.
Even with hope on the way, such as Mark Rylance's noble ferry sailor and Tom Hardy's valiant Air Force pilot, the stakes and the specter of death are always intensely felt, as this venture into the storm quickly becomes more likely a suicide mission. But what good is sacrifice on the part of those soldiers, if those who can aid them aren't willing to do the same? At what point does fear override our humanity and govern our choices? And impressive as these three timelines are in isolation, it's how the film combines and eventually unites them, as they all hit their third act meeting point for a harrowing and nail-biting finale, where Nolan makes his voice heard loud and clear, that make it an outstanding experience. Also a heavy theme on Nolan's mind is addressing the misguided belief that to be victorious in war is to win without failure, when to ride through the eye of a hurricane, and to escape the clutches of death are victories in their own right. I think when the final image of a burning fighter plane is enough to make you emotional, you've accomplished an impressive feat.
Number 2
Lady Bird
Dir. Greta Gerwig
Even with hope on the way, such as Mark Rylance's noble ferry sailor and Tom Hardy's valiant Air Force pilot, the stakes and the specter of death are always intensely felt, as this venture into the storm quickly becomes more likely a suicide mission. But what good is sacrifice on the part of those soldiers, if those who can aid them aren't willing to do the same? At what point does fear override our humanity and govern our choices? And impressive as these three timelines are in isolation, it's how the film combines and eventually unites them, as they all hit their third act meeting point for a harrowing and nail-biting finale, where Nolan makes his voice heard loud and clear, that make it an outstanding experience. Also a heavy theme on Nolan's mind is addressing the misguided belief that to be victorious in war is to win without failure, when to ride through the eye of a hurricane, and to escape the clutches of death are victories in their own right. I think when the final image of a burning fighter plane is enough to make you emotional, you've accomplished an impressive feat.
Number 2
Lady Bird
Dir. Greta Gerwig
I so didn't see this coming. As someone who never considered himself a fan of Greta Gerwig, that in one year she would not only turn me into one, but make what would very nearly be crowned my favorite film of the year is unbelievable. But she did, and I am truly at a loss for words over just how much I adore her directorial debut.
Inspired by her own life, and led by a virtuoso performance from Saoirse Ronan, Gerwig navigates us through the turbulent and often uneventful life of wayward teenager Lady Bird, as she prepares for college life in a rocky post 9/11 Sacramento. Lady Bird (real name Christine) is a very unapologetic central character, a candid and often egotistical girl who can't help but to crave being the center of attention, with outreaching ideals and sometimes sneering condescension that leads her to brutal confrontations, her mother - lovingly and crushingly played by Laurie Metcalf - bearing the brunt of those lashings. It would have been very easy to make this character irredeemable, but Gerwig complements those traits by ensuring a constant beating heart under the surface, and a sense of relatability to those harsh fights, and Ronan is ever such a charismatic lead.
Apathy is a pervasive mood all throughout Lady Bird, with the post-9/11 timeframe actually an appropriate place to drop us. Watching the film has the weird novelty of opening a time capsule, except the memorabilia is all the moods of the time that have carried over to now. It's the perfect place for Gerwig's signature snark and stream-of-consciousness musings, highlighted by often mundane details, with plot threads dropping and reforming together at random points attempting to make sense as it goes on. But despite all that snark, there was still such a warmth to the movie, beautifully emulating the forward thinking progression and boundless potential of the early Millennial era, including pointedly deconstructing the cliched white picket fence Suburban happy ending. But above all, I loved this movie because I didn't relate with any in 2017 like I did with this. I know well those feelings of apathetic soul-searching, obsession over the most meaningless things, lashing out and clinging to hurtful rage, only to find myself intensely regretting those decisions. That's why Lady Bird herself is so endearing to me, because in some ways I could completely see myself in this character, warts and all. While Greta Gerwig may not have invented the coming of age film, she blessed it with an unmistakable and powerful soul.
But only one could be crowned. And in the end, I knew it could go to none other...
Number 1
Blade Runner 2049
Dir. Denis Villeneuve
Inspired by her own life, and led by a virtuoso performance from Saoirse Ronan, Gerwig navigates us through the turbulent and often uneventful life of wayward teenager Lady Bird, as she prepares for college life in a rocky post 9/11 Sacramento. Lady Bird (real name Christine) is a very unapologetic central character, a candid and often egotistical girl who can't help but to crave being the center of attention, with outreaching ideals and sometimes sneering condescension that leads her to brutal confrontations, her mother - lovingly and crushingly played by Laurie Metcalf - bearing the brunt of those lashings. It would have been very easy to make this character irredeemable, but Gerwig complements those traits by ensuring a constant beating heart under the surface, and a sense of relatability to those harsh fights, and Ronan is ever such a charismatic lead.
Apathy is a pervasive mood all throughout Lady Bird, with the post-9/11 timeframe actually an appropriate place to drop us. Watching the film has the weird novelty of opening a time capsule, except the memorabilia is all the moods of the time that have carried over to now. It's the perfect place for Gerwig's signature snark and stream-of-consciousness musings, highlighted by often mundane details, with plot threads dropping and reforming together at random points attempting to make sense as it goes on. But despite all that snark, there was still such a warmth to the movie, beautifully emulating the forward thinking progression and boundless potential of the early Millennial era, including pointedly deconstructing the cliched white picket fence Suburban happy ending. But above all, I loved this movie because I didn't relate with any in 2017 like I did with this. I know well those feelings of apathetic soul-searching, obsession over the most meaningless things, lashing out and clinging to hurtful rage, only to find myself intensely regretting those decisions. That's why Lady Bird herself is so endearing to me, because in some ways I could completely see myself in this character, warts and all. While Greta Gerwig may not have invented the coming of age film, she blessed it with an unmistakable and powerful soul.
But only one could be crowned. And in the end, I knew it could go to none other...
Number 1
Blade Runner 2049
Dir. Denis Villeneuve
Here we are, at last. Until Lady Bird came out, there was no doubt in my mind that this was going to run away with the crown. Blade Runner may not have been as near to my heart as Star Wars, but this film and director Denis Villeneuve not only succeeds in matching Ridley Scott's stamp of quality, it arguably surpasses it. At a time where blockbusters dominate the screen, and some believe big budget can't be art, 2049 is a film that comes to completely shatter that notion, an epic masterpiece of imagination and thought.
Right out the gate, Villeneuve is spot on in his recreation of Scott's original world, the overpopulated streets of LA continually growing as abrasive corporations and omnipresent advertisements hover over their heads, in a world where the organic has all but dissipated. The world building is unmatched in this film, with Villeneuve's technical storytelling hitting its apex as his initially intimidating 160 minute runtime eases by. The world has devolved into utter toxicity outside of the cosmopolitan jungles, as scavengers and castoffs have fled to desolate slums, and radioactivity has left other major cities in decaying ruin. And yet, there is this disarming sense of beauty to the world, with a harsh, but vibrant sense of color, such as a Las Vegas bathed in deep reds and oranges. It's a stunning achievement in craft, given life by an intoxicating aural atmosphere - especially from the pitch perfect Zimmer/Wallfisch score, and numerous instantly iconic images that could tell a story on their own. To say that this is the finest achievement of DP Roger Deakins' career isn't doing it justice, and I will be devastated if he doesn't win the Cinematography Oscar in a cake walk.
Villeneuve has also done well to populate the world with new, but perfectly tailored faces to coincide with returning likes. Filling in for Rick Deckard is man of the moment Ryan Gosling, as the modified Agent K, a Replicant turned Blade Runner with crippling identity issues, none the least of which is owed to his job requiring him to kill his own kind (a practice that brings to mind ideas of racial and cultural denial, and disregard for older generations that paved the way for younger immigrants). Always at war with himself and casually regarded as having no soul, K is constantly attempting to fill some void in his life, most notably by feeling the need to surround himself with the company of Joi, that plays like a darker version of Her. Joi is a very warm and endearing presence, but also a lie that feels too perfect, giving K the illusion of a soul that makes him look sociable, but feels more like a safeguard shielding himself from society.
Joi's appearance is also one of the ways that 2049 oddly becomes the year's most feminist film, as this movie makes extensive use of prominent and well-realized female characters, and Villeneuve taking direct shots at the objectification and representation of women. In wake of recent stories, the corporate world of Blade Runner's evolution to preying upon the lustful eye of buyers feels especially timely, its city surrounded by nude and idealized holographic advertisements, parentage and lineage becoming intrinsically tied with the film, to Jared Leto's God complex inventor scrutinizing every inch of his newborn female Replicants. Such was a bold series of decisions Villeneuve made, in a way that tactfully addressed sexism without treating women as fragile glass figures, and it certainly gave the cast terrific material to work with, including Ana De Armas, Sylvia Hoeks, Robin Wright, Mackenzie Davis, and more.
And despite the fact that it takes him until the final hour of the film to show up, this is easily Harrison Ford's best performance in years, as it's perhaps the most invested he's been in a role for a long time, embodying the stance of a demonized, embittered, broken man at the end of his rope in agonizing isolation, all the while giving his signature gruffness a lot of time in the spotlight.
As a continuation to Ridley Scott's original vision, it's as if we never even left. But even without seeing Scott's classic and viewing it as a standalone, it's a triumph, as well as offering tremendous value on rewatch with new secrets to stir on. In fact, it's so good, you wish Ridley would hand Denis the keys to Alien. Villeneuve reportedly wants his next film to be a reimagining of Dune, and if so, I do wonder if he may be pigeon-holed into Sci-Fi territory. If he does, however, I'm not complaining. With the incredible sandbox of potential Sci-Fi offers him, you can see why Villeneuve is so fond of the genre. With his ability to blend high concepts with inventive imagery, he truly feels like a man within his element, and with Arrival and 2049 as a calling card, in time he could easily become one of the great Sci-Fi directors. This is the stuff the genre was made for.
Also, quick congratulations to Ryan Gosling, who has now consecutively starred in two of my favorite films of the year. Things are looking really good for First Man.
And that's a scene! This year was pretty wild, but we made it, and I thank you for sticking with me through it. But now 2018 is calling, and does the slate of films look ever so impressive. In a few days, I'll be running down the films that I'm most looking forward to this year, and I'll be sure to leave updates on some of the first movies I watch this year.
Until then, take care. "We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when..."
Right out the gate, Villeneuve is spot on in his recreation of Scott's original world, the overpopulated streets of LA continually growing as abrasive corporations and omnipresent advertisements hover over their heads, in a world where the organic has all but dissipated. The world building is unmatched in this film, with Villeneuve's technical storytelling hitting its apex as his initially intimidating 160 minute runtime eases by. The world has devolved into utter toxicity outside of the cosmopolitan jungles, as scavengers and castoffs have fled to desolate slums, and radioactivity has left other major cities in decaying ruin. And yet, there is this disarming sense of beauty to the world, with a harsh, but vibrant sense of color, such as a Las Vegas bathed in deep reds and oranges. It's a stunning achievement in craft, given life by an intoxicating aural atmosphere - especially from the pitch perfect Zimmer/Wallfisch score, and numerous instantly iconic images that could tell a story on their own. To say that this is the finest achievement of DP Roger Deakins' career isn't doing it justice, and I will be devastated if he doesn't win the Cinematography Oscar in a cake walk.
Villeneuve has also done well to populate the world with new, but perfectly tailored faces to coincide with returning likes. Filling in for Rick Deckard is man of the moment Ryan Gosling, as the modified Agent K, a Replicant turned Blade Runner with crippling identity issues, none the least of which is owed to his job requiring him to kill his own kind (a practice that brings to mind ideas of racial and cultural denial, and disregard for older generations that paved the way for younger immigrants). Always at war with himself and casually regarded as having no soul, K is constantly attempting to fill some void in his life, most notably by feeling the need to surround himself with the company of Joi, that plays like a darker version of Her. Joi is a very warm and endearing presence, but also a lie that feels too perfect, giving K the illusion of a soul that makes him look sociable, but feels more like a safeguard shielding himself from society.
Joi's appearance is also one of the ways that 2049 oddly becomes the year's most feminist film, as this movie makes extensive use of prominent and well-realized female characters, and Villeneuve taking direct shots at the objectification and representation of women. In wake of recent stories, the corporate world of Blade Runner's evolution to preying upon the lustful eye of buyers feels especially timely, its city surrounded by nude and idealized holographic advertisements, parentage and lineage becoming intrinsically tied with the film, to Jared Leto's God complex inventor scrutinizing every inch of his newborn female Replicants. Such was a bold series of decisions Villeneuve made, in a way that tactfully addressed sexism without treating women as fragile glass figures, and it certainly gave the cast terrific material to work with, including Ana De Armas, Sylvia Hoeks, Robin Wright, Mackenzie Davis, and more.
And despite the fact that it takes him until the final hour of the film to show up, this is easily Harrison Ford's best performance in years, as it's perhaps the most invested he's been in a role for a long time, embodying the stance of a demonized, embittered, broken man at the end of his rope in agonizing isolation, all the while giving his signature gruffness a lot of time in the spotlight.
As a continuation to Ridley Scott's original vision, it's as if we never even left. But even without seeing Scott's classic and viewing it as a standalone, it's a triumph, as well as offering tremendous value on rewatch with new secrets to stir on. In fact, it's so good, you wish Ridley would hand Denis the keys to Alien. Villeneuve reportedly wants his next film to be a reimagining of Dune, and if so, I do wonder if he may be pigeon-holed into Sci-Fi territory. If he does, however, I'm not complaining. With the incredible sandbox of potential Sci-Fi offers him, you can see why Villeneuve is so fond of the genre. With his ability to blend high concepts with inventive imagery, he truly feels like a man within his element, and with Arrival and 2049 as a calling card, in time he could easily become one of the great Sci-Fi directors. This is the stuff the genre was made for.
Also, quick congratulations to Ryan Gosling, who has now consecutively starred in two of my favorite films of the year. Things are looking really good for First Man.
And that's a scene! This year was pretty wild, but we made it, and I thank you for sticking with me through it. But now 2018 is calling, and does the slate of films look ever so impressive. In a few days, I'll be running down the films that I'm most looking forward to this year, and I'll be sure to leave updates on some of the first movies I watch this year.
Until then, take care. "We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when..."
Good choices, you really like a lot of the best picture nominees. Also it's ironic that your favorite movie this year and last year both star Ryan Gosling.
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