Favorite Films of 2019

Here are some cool flicks.

Runner-Ups: 1917; Hustlers; El Camino; The Report; Blinded by the Light; Shazam!; Anima; Rocketman; Ad Astra; Once Upon a Time In…Hollywood; Dolemite is My Name

20. Wild Rose

A decade ago, this film would’ve been an indie breakout — an earnest crowd-pleaser about fighting for your dreams even in the face of hopelessness. Yet compared to so much of its brethren, it recognizes that the struggles are also internal as well. Wild Rose is enchanting, sweet, moving and hilarious, with one of the year’s best performances at its center: Jessie Buckley. In a meta way, it feels like you’re watching a star yet to be discovered.

19. Ready or Not

Easily the most surprising film of the year, this is a dark comedy/horror thriller that keeps you on your feet, without forgetting the human core. Yet its not merely a maudlin attempt at wringing sympathy — Grace (an extraordinary Samara Weaving) earns it on her own with her unapologetic ferocity and brutal charm. This innately adds to the suspense in a way that a perfunctory character could never.

18. Us

The plot twists of many beloved films often leave a sour taste long after you left the theatre — you respect its boldness and creativity, but it takes the wind out of the film’s sails. This is not the case with Us, Jordan Peele’s arguably more gripping sophomore feature that devastates with a twist that actually deepens your emotional connection with a character. It also features one of the best needle-drops in recent cinema — to put it simply, you will never listen to “Good Vibrations” the same way ever again.

17. Avengers: Endgame

A major franchise caper — or at least turning point — that somehow manages to both be a somber reflection on what we owe to each other, and a time travel bananazoo! It’s surprisingly dexterous, genuinely exciting and unexpectedly moving. It takes its time to bring the Avengers back together, but most importantly the minutes leading up are not filler — it’s as much about the journey as the destination.

16. The Irishman

The 2010s have been an extraordinary, and particularly versatile, decade for Martin Scorsese where his films include a psychological thriller, a children’s film, a dark comedy about Wall Street and two Jesuits in Japan. Yet his gangster films — his most familiar territory — has become his playground for new spins on the genre. The Irishman isn’t that dissimilar to what’s come before, but where his gangster films have previous driven a car 80 mph through street races, it’s a leisurely walk in the park that takes in the depth of its surroundings. It’s contemplative in a way more similar to Silence, and has the scope of an epic biopic since it’s time span is nearly 70 years. Yet this allows us to truly see the devolution of Frank Sheeran, a hitman for the mob that can truly never escape his violence. There’s a straight line from when he’s shooting Nazis in a ditch to when he’s sitting at a retirement home —it’s an epic about a person whose appearance and demeanor changes, yet ultimately remains the same deep down inside. What a baller use of 210 minutes.

15. The Souvenir

When this film came out, my main issue was that the central romance felt oblique — it was vivid, complex and nuanced. I understood why they were together, but I didn’t understand why they were in love. I held it against the film, chalking it up to one of the more mixed trends in recent filmmaking that prioritizes subtlety — at the risk of often erasing emotion — over sincerity.

Yet I wonder if an answer would’ve truly satisfied my longing. It’s not exactly clear if Joanna Hogg — the writer and director that based this film off her experience — understood why she fell in love with the man who inspired this character. Perhaps its something indescribable — it may very well be an idea of love more so than a literal manifestation of it. The sum of various parts of your life that happen to coincide in one mystifying tornado. You can argue that this notion is a disingenuous and sweaty defense of the film. However it also may be the most honest reckoning of not just Joanna’s relationship, but all of ours.

14. Knives Out

The most surprising thing about Rian Johnson’s delightful whodunit is Marta (an incredible Ana de Armas). She’s the nurse to the deceased patriarch of the family, the daughter of undocumented immigrants who unfortunately finds herself with a deadly secret. Not just an easy political metaphor, but a scorch-fire evisceration of white liberalism, and how easily it can evaporate when it senses the tiniest amount of danger. But it’s also a story of her finding her own strength, her voice and her moral tenacity in a world that often rewards the exact opposite.

13. Toy Story 4

Tired: Robert De Niro reflects on the futility of existence

Wired: A toy in a Disney movie reflects on the futility of existence

In the sequel that literally no one asked for, yet somehow works, Toy Story 4 is as heartfelt and fearless of an exploration of existentialism as The Irishman (fight me Film Twitter). Woody examines his purpose in a world where his intended function is irrelevant, and for the first time asks himself — what does he want? Not what he thinks he wants, but what does he really want? Toy Story 4 posits that question to him and forces him to answer it in such evocative ways, with unforgettable supporting characters such as Bo Peep, Gabby Gabby, DUKE CABOOM!, and of course Forky. Yet it also dares to not force its villain into a limited manifestation of their maliciousness, but to ask what if it was shown unfamiliar kindness? It’s an unexpected development that reflects how nihilistic we have become and how grace can still be found in unfamiliar places. The plot with Buzz is admittedly devoid of dramatic prowess, even if its still hilarious, but it’s a small mark against an astounding film.

12. Jojo Rabbit

One of the most consistent critiques of this film is that it fails to recognize the full horror of the Holocaust in exchange for a silly movie filled with Hitler gags and maudlin sincerity. Yet just because it doesn’t didactically address points familiar to its brother and sister films doesn’t mean it’s ignorant of the events. If anything, it zeroes in on a more under-discussed element of Holocaust history — what it means to grow up as a child in an authoritarian society. The ways that it seems hilarious banal on the surface (its fascism for tots) only masks something destructive that could never fully be excavated. If the film slips, its how the film tries to earnestly simplify the complex way of rooting out the fascism. Yet the film never forgets its inherent darkness, and succeeds when it finds grace in the abyss. It also gives a Jewish character unique agency without making her into a mere symbol.

11. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

At one point, Matthew Rhys’ cynical journalist Lloyd “You love people like me. Broken people.” Fred Rogers (Tom Hanks) responds, “I don’t think you’re broken.” How audacious is it in a decade of such morbid retrospection for a film to truly recognize that someone isn’t broken. He’s still filled with foibles, self-doubt, fear and so much more, but the astute Fred Rogers sees this man in ways he cannot see himself. It’s beautiful.

10. Midsommar

Much of this film is about self-denial and the overarching arguments focus on how you must embrace pain to grasp life. Yet it also feels, in a heartbreaking and no less riveting way, like the coming-of-age story of a psychopath (basically Joker’s thesis statement). Only someone who shares DNA with a murderer — the willingness to do something irredeemable — can accept something as fatalistic as the ending of Midsommar. Yet it’s not merely that simple— Dani (played by the great Florence Pugh) tries to deny her inherent nature with logic and reasoning, but her brokenness can only withstand so much. There’s a power that she never knew she had, yet uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

9. The Nightingale

It doesn’t take long for us to recognize the futility of revenge in Jennifer Kent’s devastating and haunting follow-up to her deservedly-iconic The Babadook. It’s an act of psychological disintegration, fledgling catharsis and emotional abandonment. What’s truly surprising, even more so than the thematic rigor of this film, is the unlikely relationship at this film between our lead Clare (a stunning performance from Aisling Franciosi)— a white former prisoner and Billy, an Aboriginal ex-slave (Baykali Ganambarr in his first (!) on-screen performance). Clare, in spite of her own suffering, is forced to reckon with Billy’s suffering as well. The film wisely refuses to sanitize their complexities, elevating them from mere symbols to actual humans. It doesn’t feel like history — it feels eerily like the present.

8. Booksmart

There’s a scene where Amy (a dynamic Kaitlyn Dever) unloads on her fellow classmate Hope (a sternly soulful Diana Silvers) she views as awful, only for her to mention amidst her tirade that she thinks she’s beautiful. It’s a sly moment of brilliant comedy, but also of the type of empathy so deceptively real that it floors you with its energy. Booksmart is a comedy for the new generation — not just one that reflects its own unique experience, but their dreams and aspirations for what this genre can be. Unlike previous high school films, it doesn’t punch down and in fact celebrates the weirdness of its characters. No one is ever as simple as they seem, and the film wisely yields this for not just humor but pathos as well. Olivia Wilde, armed with a dynamite screenplay from Emily Halpern, Sarah Haskins, Susanna Fogel, and Katie Silberman, embraces dramatic cinematography, editing and even sound editing not just because she can, but because it creates a comedy more immersive than that of her studio brethren.

7. The Farewell

A moving film about the inevitability of death, the disappearance of identity and what it means to truly love someone amidst so much uncertainty. It doesn’t need to moralize for you to empathize with the characters’ stakes, particularly Billi (a subtle Awkwafina). Then there’s a final shot that re-contextualizes everything that came before in such an unexpected, yet beautiful way. If you haven’t seen it yet, you will gasp.

6. Her Smell

For me, the key to Elisabeth Moss’ acting is her transparent inscrutability. We know there is something that cannot be accessed — a mystery that will often keep us in the dark. But it’s not indicative of invisible humanity — we just see more unique glimpses of it. We’re left to deal with the strangeness, the stuff that cannot be categorized — terrifying, alien and human in a way that’s often uncomfortable. Thus when we see something more genuine, when she watches the Akergirls play “Sweet Tooth” to her in the studio, and we see her longing for a time when she was close to her bandmates, our heart breaks. It’s a brief moment where she opens up to us.

No other actress could have played Becky Something, a character that is both beyond understanding and clear as day. An agent of self-destruction ignorant of her own damage till it’s too late, and unsure if she deserves a better future. It’s a meditation on what it means not just to be a celebrity, a punk rock musician, a drug addict, and someone sober, but what it’s like to orbit around one. The supporting characters may seem perfunctory, but they are filled with such irrefutable humanity that it’s hard not to feel their pain. They are Becky’s collateral damage. Like them, we want to stay away from Becky but cannot help but return to her and cheer her on, begging for more.

5. Marriage Story

Noah Baumbach is one of the best screenwriters today, capturing the messiness of the human experience through shifting motivations, lack of self-awareness, the different fronts we put on depending on the situation, unexpected humor and so much more. This is him using his skills to tell such a complex story about divorce — one with not just a psychological toll to the parents and child, but the industry that facilitates it in all of its banality. No one is spared from the dehumanizing damage, but there is still room for genuine kindness. Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson’s best work respectively.

4. Uncut Gems

Easily the most sprawling and contemplative film from the Safdie Brothers and Ronald Bronstein, Uncut Gems is still a nerve-wracking, stomach-punching, head-smashing roller coaster ride. As ambitious as it is, it never loses the humanity and in fact uses that scope to probe into something paradoxically more universal and transcendent. You will not be prepared for how Jewish this film is — not just literally, but philosophically and emotionally. Adam Sandler’s career-best performance is a beautiful amalgamation of star power and bone-deep transformation into something remarkably human and deeply unexpected. Julia Fox, in her feature film debut, is also extraordinary as his partner-in-crime, and the crew as usual (including the new DP Darius Khondji) knock it out of the park.

3. Parasite

As Roger Ebert references in his original review of Fargo, there’s nothing quite as thrilling as watching a film that feels like an act of self-discovery. You can feel Bong Joon-ho uncovering this strange, nerve-wracking thriller piece-by-piece, imbuing every action with not a sense of novelty but vibration. What starts off as a simple con metastasizes into something unfamiliar, frightening and unforgettable, purging economic inequality for something carnal, yet contemplative. Parasite is so intricate in its plot, so fearless with its characters and so evocative in its themes that it’s hard to imagine how it all came so seamlessly together. By the end of this film, you will feel shaken and stunned. After all, how else can you feel about a masterpiece?

2. Little Women

Greta Gerwig’s update of Louisa May Alcott’s seminal novel (which I’ve never read, or even seen the previous film adaptations) feels like it’s bursting off the screen in a way similar to the #1 film on this list. To not be redundant, this film might have landed so personally with me because of where I’m at in life. Or maybe because it reminds me so much of what it feels like to have regrets, to feel so confident in one area that you feel it can caress your aching heart. Or how we have to truly live with our emotions, and be willing to let that guide us instead of the other way around.

1. Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Céline Sciamma’s masterpiece of love, art and memory — a historical film that’s always vibrant, while never desperate to prove its modernity. It knows its modern. But it also knows its timeless in a way. Sciamma’s direction is easily the most underappreciated this year — she immerses you in this little corner of the world that is inextricably intimate and epic. The scene above (the most cinematic moment this year) exemplifies this, courtesy to its incredible DP Claire Mathon and sound mixing/editing team (Valérie Deloof, Julien Sicart and the rest) . At its heart are two great actors: Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel, who bare their souls for each other and us.

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Other random shout-outs, not previously highlighted on the list:

Acting:

• Ad Astra — Brad Pitt, Tommy Lee Jones
• Dolemite is My Name —Eddie Murphy
• The Farewell — Diane Lin
• Ford V. Ferrari — Christian Bale
• The Irishman — Joe Pesci
• The Lighthouse — Willem Dafoe
• Little Women — Saoirse Ronan, Florence Pugh, Timothée Chalamet
• Once Upon A Time In…Hollywood — Leonardo DiCaprio
• Pain & Glory — Antonio Banderas
• Us — Lupita Nyong’o

Craft:

• 1917 — director of photography Roger Deakins; composer Thomas Newman
• Ad Astra — director of photography Hoyte van Hoytema
• Avengers: Endgame — editors Jeffrey Ford & Matthew Schmidt
• Dolemite is My Name — costume designer Ruth E. Carter
• Ford V. Ferrari — director of photography Phedon Papamichael; sound mixers Donald Sylvester, Paul Massey, David Giammarco and Steven A. Morrow
• Godzilla: King of the Monsters — director of photography Lawrence Sher
• High Life — visual effects by Xavier Allard and Pierri Buffin
• I Lost My Body — composer Dan Levy
• The Last Black Man in San Francisco — director of photography Adam Newport-Berra
• Little Women — editor Nick Houy
• Pain & Glory — production designer Antxón Gómez
• Us — composer Michael Abels