The Best Non 2023 Films I Saw in 2023

11. The Mind Benders (1963) - Generally regarded as one of the first true paranoid thrillers, John Frankenheimer's "The Manchurian Candidate" dealt with the brainwashing of a Korean War POW (Laurence Harvey whose steely eyed presence seemed like the perfect tonic for an empty vessel) and his subsequent mission as a presidential assassin. It holds up even better today. Released just a year later in 1963, Basil Dearden's "The Mind Benders" certainly hasn't gotten the same acclaim as Frankenheimer's effort, but it's no less terrifying. I'd even argue it's a much more insidious example of the ability of one human to crack open and infect the brain of another human. In Dearden's stratosphere, the purpose isn't world domination, but simply the nature of suggestion in wielding power over another.... which plays havoc and begins the dissolution of a happy marriage. As he did a few years prior in Dearden's taboo breaking "Victim" (1961), Dirk Bogarde is the man placed in a precarious situation fighting for his very soul. Portraying Dr. Longman, Bogarde is a scientist involved in an experiment whose opening title card suggests the entire story is ripped from the annuls of American research documents involving isolation tanks and perception reduction. And if this doesn't sound so far out today where such tactics dot the fringe landscape of psychology, things don't start so well for one doctor involved in the experiment who rightly tosses himself off a moving train in the film's opening minutes. This abrupt shift from tangential science fiction elements feels odd at first, but once "The Mind Benders" settles on Longman and his wife's shifting power dynamic, the film's kitchen sink realism (a style dominating much of British cinema during this time) feels all the more powerful in showing how disruptive progressive science can be. He's not slated to kill a presidential candidate, but the final riverside boat party seems just as violent for the way he openly courts another woman (Wendy Craig) and flagrantly challenges the tenets of marriage. Longman's brainwashing may not be the equal of murder, but "The Mind Benders" makes a strong case that its something far more damaging. 

10. Bitter Innocence (1999) - Dominik Graf's "Bitter Innocence" twists about halfway through from a corporate thriller to a sweet love story borne out of the casual indifference and sexual violence men perpetrate on women. That the love forms between a twenty-something woman (Laura Tonke) and the young teen daughter (Mareike Lindenmeyer) trying to unravel the mystery her parents have immersed themselves in should come as no shock to those who've watched just a few of Graf's films. They are mostly love stories buried within a larger framework of genre. Last year's masterwork called "Fabian: Going to the Dogs" is one of the lushest romance film in years, buttressed against the backdrop of an encroaching Nazi evil. Situated firmly in the times it was made (1999), "Bitter Innocence" follows the same pattern as love is widdled out of the complicated yuppie mindset that those in the corporate world can get away with anything if their check book is large enough. But before we get to the central relationship of Vanessa and Eva, Graf's film wanders through the thriller realm when aggressive boss Larssen (Michael Mendle) threatens to destabilize the vague pharmaceutical company Andreas (Elmar Weppar) has been conducting research within for the past few years. Andreas' fears about the wolf Larssen are confirmed when he discovers him raping Vanessa behind closed doors. Working as a waitress for a catering company providing services at a company party, Andreas doesn't report (or even lift a finger to help) the vulnerable Vanessa, instead using the act to steal a file that may secure his employment..... which is a prickly move since Vanessa sees him dodge out without coming to any sort of chivalry rescue. With the visual style of a glistening television movie (Graf has careened through an array of features, both for the big and small screens) and a sense of rhythm like that of a soap opera, the film's themes of ravishing passions and high intrigue feel right at home with that lowbrow entertainment. But Graf's swirling ambition about the youth of the world being the most morally grounded figures in a world set on financial gain and personal advancement (and I didn't even mention the affairs!) fits right at home in the subversive tactics of a filmmaker who continually buries so much in his works. I look forward to carrying through with his expansive body of work.

9. Get Back (2021) - There's a moment when we finally get the Beatles performing their modified rooftop concert as the local bobbies ascend on the band for noise complaints and Paul lets out a little "whoo" as they emerge in the doorway behind him. It's a candid moment in a 7-hour documentary stitched, polished, and restored from endless streams of audio and visual clips more than fifty years old, but it feels as vital as when it was compiled at the crescendo of Beatle Mania in 1969 and 1970. Again taking a lost relic from the past and revamping it for modern consumption, director Peter Jackson is making quite the name for himself as one of the most important film preservationists of our day. But, as he did with "They Shall Not Grow Old", "Get Back" is more than revivalism. It actually unearths sound and image from the dust heap of the past and makes it relevant. It's hard to say anything by the Beatles could be considered irrelevant (or especially the heartbreaking images of World War I), but that's the onward march of time with social media and the modern ways the younger generation consumes media and information. There's something to be said for the scratchy 16mm image, and with a documentary like "Get Back", hopefully the sound and appeal of the Beatles (and so many other relics) will never be relegated to the unkown medium abyss again. 

8. Another Man, Another Chance (1977) - Claude Lelouch's "Another Man, Another Chance" tells the parallel stories of westward expansion and immigration. Either one would be evocative on their own, but here, they wind together slowly.... beautifully... gently. Jeanne (Genevieve Bujold) and her photographer husband Francis (Francis Huster) flee 1870's France for the west. Already ensconced here as a veterinarian, but struggling to put together the pieces of a broken life, is David (James Caan). For a good portion of the film, Lelouch keeps the two stories close but separate. They exist in the same territory, but only mingle in the latter half of the film. And when they do, "Another Man, Another Chance" becomes less of a western and more of an amber hued love story borne out against the dusty terrain. It's always interesting to see how a European envisions the American West. Often more attuned to the sensibilities of survival and generational struggle than the law-and-disorder of our own representations (perhaps because the violence in European history goes back eons further than our own), Lelouch works in carefully timed, long handheld set ups and awesomely imagined natural lighting. Reminiscent of the intimate epics of Jan Troell, "Another Man, Another Chance" weaves a melodic tale of the west that feels much truer than any other attempt to reconcile the territories hard scrabbled existence.

7. Phantom Lady (1944) - Even though I admire the toughness of Robert Siodmak's perennial film noirs, "The Killers" (1946) and "Criss Cross" (1948), nothing quite prepared me for the formal, stylish greatness of "Phantom Lady". Released in 1944 and starring Ella Raines as a secretary named Kansas (certainly evoking her eternal goodness) who descends into the New York netherworld of coked-up jazz musicians and psychotic killers in the hopes of saving her boss (Alan Curtis) from a murder rap, the film is relentlessly surprising in both narrative and mise-en-scene. There are two or three camera movements that rank with the visual inventiveness of Hitchcock's best (just watch as we finally discover "the hat") and a mood imported from the inky grains of German expressionism. Everything is mixed flawlessly within a somewhat cute American studio system work. Between this film and others, Siodmak has created a large (but still somewhat undervalued) body of work. And outside of his noirs, finding them is the trick. Playing with genre as if it's shuffling cards, Siodmak never loses control of the film. When it stops down for a couple of minutes to vibrate and gyrate with a coked-up drummer, it works. When it devolves into a thriller and the doorknob to escape is just out of reach, it works. And it certainly works as a film noir where the city hisses steam at all hours and the police are hard-nosed but virtuous. Even despite its seemingly happy ending, "The Phantom Lady" hints that the savior complex of Kansas may have doomed her to a place of subservience that's well beneath her true worth.

6. Batleground (1949) - Screening William Wellman's "Battleground" today can feel slightly misleading and familiar, only because so much of this 1949 film (yes, released only 4 years after the end of the war) has been sampled, stapled , and re-imagined in numerous other war films. Its influence cannot be denied. Following an ensemble of soldiers as they march into The Battle of the Bulge and become entwined in the infamous Bastogne area, for much of its running time, "Batleground" is battle-adjacent. Focusing on the soldier's personalities as they deal with a host of issues- from horniness while garrisoned in a French town to the swift brutality of death in a foxhole- "Battleground" fills in the spaces of the usual rah-rah 'Hollywoodisms' with the banality of simple survival when fog has cut one off from the rest of the world. And when the action does occur, Wellman doesn't shy away from the explicit horribleness of war. An unrelenting ambush on a group of prowling Germans..... hand to hand combat settled just out of frame..... the crushing realization that someone is dead by their galoshes strewn against the snow..... "Battleground" explores all the horrors of war with fierce simplicity. If anyone is still searching for great war films in this land of over saturation, do yourself a favor and see "Battleground".

5. Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror (2021) - Not only a scholarly minded exploration of the complex literary and visual history of a certain type of horror film, Kier-La Janisse's "Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched" is a treasure trove of film and television clips that had me mercilessly searching the internet for more backstory on its many examples. Clocking in at over 3 hours, this is an exhaustive but fascinating treatise on what exactly drives the genre now affectionately called "folk horror" in the movies. For those who've come to the subject only recently through the works of Ari Aster or only understand its touchpoint in something like "The Wicker Man" in the early 70's, this documentary swerves through so many other examples (both heralded but largely unheralded) that it becomes clear the idea of this type of horror film has been embedded in our cultures for centuries. A must see for cinema historians and extra points for now giving me the term "hauntology" in my lexicon.

4. On Tour (2010) - I'm fascinated by the hard-scrabbled hustler on-screen. Characters like Jack Lemmon in "Save the Tiger" (1973) or Jason Miller in "The Nickel Ride". (1974).... men who feel like entropy itself is their survival. Add Mathieu Almaric to that list with his role as the manager/escort to a group of American burlesque performers traversing across France in "On Tour". The direct antecedent, of course, would be "Go Go Tales" (2007) or the king of all fast-talkers with Ben Gazzara in John Cassavetes' "Killing of a Chinese Bookie" (1976). But that's enough comparison. Almaric's directorial effort stands on its own as a slice of (hectic) life, full of unexpected grace and mascaraed beauty. And even though tragedy and bankruptcy seem forever around the corner, the majesty of the film lies in its gentle warmth and oddball humor. He's a man who juggles the needs of his burlesque troop with the impending collapse of his marriage as if he's a father-of-the-year candidate on the verge of losing everything. I've been enthralled by the varied tones of Almaric's chosen projects over the last few years. I like to imagine he took the cash from his role in a James Bond film to finance and nurture this unique, wonderful film and will continue to alternate between high profile, mainstream fare and scratched independence. 

3. A Self Made Hero (1996) - Jacques Audiard's war time masquerade about a man (Matthieu Kassovitz) who lies and steals his persona into war time France aristocracy would make for a fitting double feature with Jean Pierre Melville's "Army of Shadows" (1968). Both films apply the same fatalistic sense that imbues great crime thrillers, and it's a film that paints the Resistance during French Occupation of World War II as a carousel of death slightly postponed in order for its men and women to grasp at heroics. It's sad, infuriating, calculated, and full of Melville's memorialized relics from his past and Audiard's film shows just how punctured and fractured deceit causes during the World War. But "A Self Made Hero" is also surprisingly resonant for the way in which a man will become a chameleon to hold power (think of George Santos). It's a film that's oddly never discussed much today, given virtually no repertory screenins, and seems to be destined to the dust bins of mid 90's international films like so many others. See this one. It's a sharp deconstruction of the rise to power.... a mordant commentary on truth.... and a brilliant black comedy that details the minute ways anyone can take tidbits of the truth and screw them into a wholly believable persona.

2. Undeclared War (1990) - Ringo Lam's "Undeclared War" had me from its stunningly violent open in which a baptism ambush leads into hand grenades and helicopters. From there, it staggers into pretty much every late 80's/early 90's action film aesthetic- from the gaudy lens flares that visually accentuate Hong Kong 'actioners' of the time to the cop buddy narrative that sees two opposing worldviews combine to stop a global terrorist. Add to the mixture loads of cop swagger and "Undeclared War" is a pop masterpiece from a director known more for inspiring the skeletal outline of Quentin Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs" than for his own works. After seeing Lam's "Sky On Fire" at the 2018 Dallas International Film Festival and then lapping up the brutality of his Jean Claude Van Damme collaboration (one of his many) "In Hell" last year, I've had the enjoyment of discovering one engaging action film after another. As usual, going beyond pop culture lip sync to observe the original purveyors holds so much more value. But beyond the exploding squibs and expected violence, Lam's "Undeclared War" does something that I always find necessary in a good action film: understanding the logistics of bodies and space. There are so many well staged shootouts and roving camera techniques that continually maintain the sense of action and place, one clearly senses when they're in the hands of a master. Lam is one of the best.

1. One More Time With Feeling (2016)

One of the highlights of 2023 for me was seeing Nick Cave play an intimate, 1500 seat theater. Sitting first row of the balcony, I had a beautifully unobstructed view of the man as he played piano and romped through decades of favorites as well as obscure tunes (with the only other person on stage being Colin Greenwood providing the necessary bass tempo). Seeing Andrew Dominik's documentary a few months before couldn't prepare me for the emotional weight Cave brings to each and every song, underscoring the fragility and brutal honesty he often doles out in his songs. If Andrew Dominik's "One More Time With Feeling" had just been about the creative gymnastics behind producing and recording an album, it would have been magnificent. The fact that real life tragedy occurs and timbers everything with an air of magisterial melancholy turns the effort into an essential portrait of serene acceptance. Hovering around Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds as they record their 2016 album "Skeleton Tree", Dominik's first collaboration with the band (followed several years later by "This Much I Know to be True") tumbles through harsh confessional, observational practices, and magical representation.... often times in the same scene. Cave is always hard to turn away from (especially on stage) and here he gives us the same persona as tortured poet. But Dominik also captures something poignant in the way he interacts with his wife and the loss of their young son which pierces the mechanical process also being recorded. A unique documentary indeed. Fans of Nick Cave, Warren Ellis and the Bad Seeds will be enthralled. Everyone else will be moved by the cathartic use of creativity to exorcise sadness.

Moments of 2022

Inspired by the now defunct Film Comment "Moments Out of Time" series and the great Roger Ebert's year end recap, this Moments of the Year list (now in its 24th edition) represents indelible moments of my film-going year. It can be a line of dialogue, a glance, a camera movement or a mood, but they're all wondrous examples of a filmmaker and audience connecting emotionally.

 

The long shot holding on the face of a jockey (Clifton Collins Jr) as he starts and finishes a race. The range of emotions curbed by splotches of dirt being kicked up into his face don’t lessen his array of feelings.  “Jockey”

A young girl munching precociously on chips in the backseat of a car and then her small arm protruding into the frame with a juice box for her mother to drink while she drives  “Petite Maman”

The diner scene between Jessica Chastain and “The Good Nurse” (Eddie Redmayne) as she tries to gently coax a confession from him. The unease slowly builds

"I don’t even know what you make at the factory!”    “You’ll know what we make at the factory, when you work at the factory!”     The comic line reading of the year by Toby Huss in “Weird: The Al Yankovic Story”

The dance title sequence.  “After Yang”

Pretty much any line reading of  Andrew Scott in “Catherine Called Birdy”

From a comfortable bedside reading to a tortured wounded soldier screaming. Just one of the many sublime (and heartbreaking) transitions in Terence Davies’ exploration of self identity in “Benediction”

A woman (pleading?) saying that the woman (Dolly de Leon) inching up behind her with a rock can work equally in their new household.   “Triangle of Sadness” 

“Everything Everywhere All At Once” and the Wong Kar Wai inspired wet, moonlit alley conversation between Evelyn (Michelle Yeoh) and Waymond (Ke Huy Quan). Both are dressed to the nines, but the spare emotion expressed between them is heartbreaking

“Montana Story” and the performance of Eugene Brave Rock as a Native American car seller. It's a complex moment in the film. Can we trust him? 

Colin Farrell and his imitation of Werner Herzog. “After Yang”

“She Said” and the numerous shots of tense bodies carefully poised around a speakerphone intercom

The first meeting between Jakob (Tom Schilling) and Cornelia (Saskia Rosendahl) in “Fabian: Going to the Dogs” as she emerges as a shadowy figure bathed in blue light behind, and the quick succession of future images that will mark their torrid love affair. Perhaps the most romantic moment all year

A man hitting on two women at the bar as Modjo plays and his line of “I have a lot of money. A lot of money….” and they perk up to him.     “Triangle of Sadness”

The waves taking a baby’s body with it.  “Bardo, False Chronicles of a Handful of Truths”

An empty bed. "Sr."

The needle drop of ethereal music as a young girl floats on a boat. "Petite Maman"

Strobe lights on a dance floor. A father and daughter oscillating in time. A long walk down an airport hallway and then out a door. The gutting final few minutes of Charlotte Wells' brilliant debut "Aftersun"

 

My Fav Movies of 2021

 For full descriptions, please visit this list that published last month here at Dallas Film Now

 

13. Procession, directed by Robert Greene

12. Lily Topples the World, directed by Jeremy Workman

11. Shiva Baby, directed by Emma Seligman

10. Quo vadis Aida?, directed by Jasmila Zbanic

9. The Card Counter, directed by Paul Schrader

8. No Sudden Move, directed by Steven Soderbergh

7. Summer of Soul, directed by Questlove

6. Spencer, directed by Pablo Larrain

5. Titane, directed by Julia Ducournau

4. The World To Come, directed by Mona Fastvold

3.  Bergman Island, directed by Mia Hansen-Love

2. Wife of a Spy, directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa

1. Licorice Pizza, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

My Fav Movies of 2020

As posted at Dallas Film Now: 

My favorite movies of the year, in descending order:

15. Tesla

14. Zappa

13. Undine

12. Saint Frances

11. The Assistant

10. Miracle Fishing

9. Sound of Metal

8. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

7. To the Ends of the Earth

6. Portrait of a Lady on Fire

5. Mangrove

4. Crip Camp

3. The Vast of Night

2. Tommasso

1. The Traitor

Moments of 2019

Inspired by the now defunct Film Comment "Moments Out of Time" series and the great Roger Ebert's year end recap, this Moments of the Year list (now in its 21st edition!)) represents indelible moments of my film-going year. It can be a line of dialogue, a glance, a camera movement or a mood, but they're all wondrous examples of a filmmaker and audience connecting emotionally.




The completely disgusted glare a bank robber gives Nicole Kidman as a splash of purple dye explodes in slow motion around him and the drop of a bag before he re-enters the bank. “Destroyer”

Customers in a dilapidated movie theater slipping on 3D glasses, which serves as our key to do the same for an extended 50 minute long take through the somnambulist mind of our male protagonist in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night”

From the window of a small prop plane, Joe Pesci’s car held in a slow pan to the left as it disappears from view.   “The Irishman”

In “Apollo 11”, the readings of heart rate and blood pressure from each astronaut. And Buzz Aldrin coming in at a cool 88 compared to Neil Armstrong’s 110.

Greta (Isabella Huppert) standing completely motionless in the street, a gargoyle keeping watch over her prey (Chloe Grace Moretz) in Neil Jordan’s potboiler deluxe “Greta”

“The Beach Bum”- Sprinkled in red light, Moondog (Matthew McCoughnahy) and Lingerie (Snoop Dogg) wax poetic against a dark blue sky with Miami’s lights twinkling in the background. It may be a frayed interpretation of life at the margins, but Harmony Korine envisioned some of the year’s most precisely imagined images

A stuffed animal tiger becomes a full sized one- and the gasp that Estrella (Paola Lara) emits when she first sees him lying in front of her.   “Tigers Are Not Afraid”

“Little Women”  Two timelines of running down the stairs with drastically (and heartbreaking) different results. Just one of the many thrilling ways Greta Gerwig plays with her literal translation.

“But what about the Ken Burns documentary we were gonna watch tonight?”   “Fuck The Dust Bowl”    “Booksmart”

In “Caballerango”, the camera observing a horse on a ridge line, and then the sudden shift to catch it as it momentarily runs out of view.

The guttural, howling cry of a woman (Florence Pugh) doubled over on the lap of her boyfriend as the camera slowly pans out the snowy window behind them.   “Midsommar”

Otis (Noah Jupe) translating the voices of his sparring parents during a contentious phone call. Humor and incisive trauma inflicted all at once.  “Honey Boy”

A woman (Jillian Bell) seeing herself in the reflection of a pretzel cart.  “Brittany Runs a Marathon”

The needle drop of a Scott Walker song that harmonizes perfectly with the drugging of a john in “Hustlers”

Waiting in the hallway for an old lover to ascend, the way Salvador (Antonio Banderas) wipes at his face and goes through a range of emotions.  “Pain and Glory”

Emily (Taylor Russell) telling her father (Sterling K. Brown) that she could have stopped the horror that shattered their lives and the way she breaks down.   “Waves”

The canvas of boats that sail out to meet and bring home the “Maiden”

In “Marriage Story”, Adam Driver singing “Being Alive”, and then impulsively running back to the microphone after starting to sit down, as if when he stops singing, his marriage will be over.

“Geminin Man” and a motorcycle chase through the streets

A slow pan backwards through a group of white-dress clad people standing in front of their respective slots at an outdoor dinner table, and then the slight bow along with them as they all take their seats in unison. In Ari Aster’s “Midsommar”, his camera is just another specter. 

“The Last Black Man In San Francisco”- A man preaching fire and brimstone next to a garbage-filled Oceanside while standing on a milk crate, and the slight smile and wave he gives as a car passes by, breaking his momentary anger into neighborly gesture  

“Tigers Are Not Afraid” - Fish swimming in the muddy water of a puddle.

Tao Zhao and the way the camera fiercely lingers on her as she steps from the backseat of a car and fires a gun in the air, then proceeds to walk around the car and prevent any more harm coming from a gang of thugs in front of her.  “Ash Is Purest White”

A room full of lawyers easily ordering from a lunch menu, and then the slow confusion of Henry (Adam Driver) not knowing what he wants.  “Marriage Story”

“You don’t know how good of a friend you got here.” “Oh, I know.”  No, you DON’T’ know.” Harvey Keitel basically telling Frank Sheeran (Robert DeNiro) ho close he came to being killed.   “The Irishman”

An underwater swim that transitions from nervous flirtation to crushing realism… and the look that Katherine Devers gives upon surfacing.  “Booksmart”

Pretty much anything Martin Lawrence did in “The Beach Bum”, but especially saying “be careful, you may shoot a dolphin” when MoonDog fires a gun into the air on his boat.

Amy (Florence Pugh) sternly describing how marriage is an economic proposition.  “Little Women”

My Faves of 2019

20. Uncut Gems (Josh and Benny Safdie)

Assuredly building a body of work that rings every ounce of desperation, energy and intense movement out of an already nervy New York City, the Safdie Brothers' "Uncut Gems" may be the definitive word on the subject. Starring Adam Sandler as a gambler/jewelry dealer whose every moment on-screen is spent wheeling, dealing and driving the audience for a heart attack, the film is assaultive  but essential.

19. Caballerango (Juan Pablo Gonzales)

Juan Pablo Gonzales' pensive documentary "Caballerango" is many things- an anthropological study of time and place, an excavation of memory for one family's pangs of grief around the suicide of their son, and a masterful example of our landscape's powerful ability to dwarf all of us. There are two shots in this film that stand as some of the most moving in years- a long monologue from a migrant worker about the state of hopelessness that seems to swath this small village followed by the truck he's sitting in taking off and slowly climbing up a gill, revealing just how close the camera has been to him the whole time. The second is the final shot as the camera watches two horses from a distance before they gently jerk out of range, causing the stationary camera to reflexively pan after them, as if the animals suddenly realized they were being watched and wanted to get away. It's a nice summation of the film itself, revealing that no soul (animal or man) wants to be bottled up for long.

18. Pain and Glory (Pedro Almodovar)

Pedro Almodovar's quasi autobiographical effort about a filmmaker addicted to pain medication, drugs and a sense of reconciliation with his past is a gentle and humane thing. As the Almodovar stand-in, Antonio Banderas has never been better. Oscillating between present tense and (supposed) past, "Pain and Glory" feels just as cathartic as something Fellini would have made, exorcising the demons of art, romance and sexual identity. It's Almodovar's best film in years.

17. Tigers Are Not Afraid (Issa Lopez)

Adding itself to a long line of cherished films about the nightmarish definitions young children apply to real world horrors, Issa Lopez's "Tigers Are Not Afraid" is startling and brilliant for how it deals with both of those layers. Following a rag-tag group of homeless children fending for themselves in a Mexican City hell where everything is run by drug cartels and maintains a post-apocalyptic vibe, the film soon gives enormous heart to its young protagonists and their daily struggles. Mixing tense crime thriller aspects with the veil of a horror film (equally frightening for the way Lopez visualizes her ghosts as dripping, moldy, black souls reaching out for anything), "Tigers Are Not Afraid" makes plain that the line between both genres is negligible. This film slipped through the cracks this year and I urge everyone to give it a chance on home viewing.

16. Shadow (Zhang Yimou)  

Crafting ground breaking and genre busting films for over 30 years now, Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou shows no signs of decline with his latest masterpiece, "Shadow". Playing like a twisted Shakespearean drama with royal intrigue, ghostly doppelgangers and  maddening betrayals, what's most bracing about the entire thing is its visual palette. Using muted colors and taking place in a landscape drenched in endless rain showers, Zhang allows the neutral scope to seep under our skin before shocking us with buckets of blood later on, making the gnarly bloodshed that much more poetic when it happens. Oh yes, there's a pretty damn good story here as well about warring factions, hidden kings and confused relationships. It all blends into a perfectly choreographed mythic tale that only Yimou could sustain.

15. Peterloo (Mike Leigh)

Imagining Mike Leigh tackle a historical act of massacre seems like an oblique fit for his intensely talky and introspective human nature dramas. I'm so glad he made this film, and yes, it does fit nicely as a very talky effort that exhaustively examines and discusses the swirling politics and history leading up to the event. The first 2 hours can be head-spinning for how many characters are introduced and have their say about the divisive lines between laymen and the governing body. And the final half hour....spent in an explosive   deconstruction of soldiers marching and killing scores of innocent protesters is enough to make one's blood boil. "Peterloo" is an immaculately rendered film of time and place (oh the locations and settings just reek of nineteenth century miserablism) whose distorted, complicated history is made quite clear by Leigh's unending craftmanship.

14. Non Fiction (Olivier Assayas)

For a film largely concerned with the marching evolution of technology, Olivier Assayas "Non Fiction" remains grounded in a very traditional framework of simple mood and antiquated tempo. Another talky like he's been making for over 20 years now, his latest film crackles with intelligence and sinewy humor as several couples are having affairs with each other, smoking cigarettes and talking around the sadness in their married lives. It also helps the film stars Juliette Binoche, Guillame Canet and Vincent Macaigne as said couples. In the background of it all, Assayas also touches on prescient topics such as the disappearance of the written word and our world's dedication (or lack thereof) to its production. In my original review of the film, I called this film the next continuation in the life of the harried teenagers from "Cold Water" (1994). I look forward to however else Assayas wants to shape this universe of people.

13. Little Women (Greta Gerwig)

Greta Gerwig's latest adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's beloved novel has stuck with me for days. Incredible acting, a sly sense of opening up the tale with a thrilling sense of editing, and an atmosphere that perfectly captures the alternatively freewheeling and morose swaths of fate that affect the four sisters, the film is a triumph of small emotions and gentle passage of time. No matter how small the part, each and every character is rendered as a vivid person. And, it only further cements the talents of all involved as defining artists for what will be decades to come.

12. Motherless Brooklyn (Edward Norton)

I have to begin by asking why it's taken someone 20 years to allow actor Edward Norton to write and direct again after his sweetly affectionate and witty debut film "Keeping the Faith". I fell in love upon seeing it in the theater all those years ago and it remains one of the best films of the 90's. A far cry in mood and tone than that previous ode to Lubitsch-like romance-comedy, his latest film, "Motherless Brooklyn" still retains his affection for people and relationships even when said relationships involve extortion, bribery, corruption and murder in 50's set New York where the sky's the limit for powerful men slicing up chunks of the city. Trying to unravel the mystery is Lionel (Norton), the adopted associate of a slain snooper (Bruce Willis) whose nose gets them all involved in some hefty affairs. Complicating maters is Lionel's tourette's disorder, which serves more as a compass for the nervousness he feels when things get heady, calmed only in moments after Laura (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) who may or may not be fully involved in the affair he's investigating. While the narrative of "Motherless Brooklyn" ultimately leans into noir-tinged familiarity, what's not pedestrian is Norton's supreme handling of the film's pace and composure. Lots of secondary characters (played by famous faces from Willem DaFoe to Michael K. Williams) provide a sprawling canvas of depth, but they're never allowed to overwhelm the carefully constructed atmosphere. Attuned to the beauty of the world around his concrete-bound characters, Norton continually cuts to things around them as they talk, such as golden blades of grass or the sun-lit dusted items on a bedroom dresser. For a film often caught inside the scrambled head of a man desperately trying to fit together the disjointed pieces, "Motherless Brooklyn" is a magnificently contemplative work and a seriously overlooked gem from 2019.

11. The Last Black Man in San Francisco (Joe Talbot)

It's not very hard to make San Francisco look dreamy and romantic on screen, but what director Joe Talbot does with "The Last Black Man In San Francisco"- besides a fully realized and heartfelt relationship between two best friends- is create a film of otherworldly beauty and quirky sentiments that feels wholly original. Actors Jimmie Fails and Jonathan Majors are revelations as marginal personalities in a gentrified San Francisco who make it their mission to save and restore a large house that once belonged to one of their grandfathers. A beautiful soundtrack, a host of memorable secondary characters and a complete control of mood situates "The Last Black Man in San Francisco" as a breakout effort from all involved.

10. Dolemite is My Name (Craig Brewer)

There was no better movie-going experience in 2019 than the Texas premiere of Eddie Murphy's affectionate ode to 70's filmmaking and maverick-outsider status than "Dolemite Is My Name". An audience rolling with every joke and riding the wave of every emotion elicited the exact same reaction I'm sure the original "Dolemite" film did for African-American audiences in the early 70's desperate for a film idol that wasn't James Bond or Dirty Harry. Profane and uproariously funny, "Dolemite Is My Name" is everything a crowd pleasing film is designed to do. Toss in a whiz-bang cast of associates such as Wesley Snipes and DaVine Joy Randolph, and the film far outstretches its modest Netflix designed small-screen ambitions into an expansive comedy whose main intention is bawdy reverence for a true cinematic pioneer.

9. Booksmart (Olivia Wilde)

About two-thirds of the way through- and once the film's teenage friends played wonderfully by Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever finally make it to the graduation party they so desperately want to attend- "Booksmart" finds its footing and attains something quite terrific. The film's patchwork assortment of outrageous characters and high school crudeness coalesces into an achingly honest and masterful examination about the crushing facade of teenage life and its very thin margins of identity/acceptance. First time actor-turned-director Olivia Wilde balances the pieces together brilliantly, manifesting all the strengths of her film in one long shot that turns a shattering underwater discovery into an equally shattering composition of two young women trying to compose themselves in the uncertainties of adulthood. Just a great film all around.

8. Ad Astra (James Gray) 

Even though it resides in a loopy science fiction template that features ghost ships, nerve-jangling space walks and knife fights inside a cockpit, James Gray's "Ad Astra" is a lot closer to his morose studies of male psychosis and obsessive choices than it first appears. In fact, it makes for a nice double feature with his previous masterpiece "The Lost City of Z" in which pioneers of terrain and courage venture farther out into the unknown than anyone before them. In "Ad Astra", that explorer is astronaut Brad Pitt, chosen to travel to Mars (a planet that houses the last stable outpost of humanity in near future of colonization) in order to hopefully coax his lost father (also an astronaut) to stop sending chaotic micro bursts of energy from a failed mission decades ago. I know, it does preposterous when explained, but Gray manages to create a moody and introspective work of art that challenges science fiction conventions in its quiet remorselessness.

7. Destroyer (Karyn Kusama)

There's a trend in modern crime films I like to call "New American Miserablism". I suppose the grandfathers were David Fincher and Michael Mann, now carried forward by any young filmmaker treading into the noir tinged waters. Even the small screen isn't immune, specifically behind the grandiose darkness inherent in Nic Pizzaloto's "True Detective" series. Granted, even I'm worn down by the heaviness permeating these efforts. So why is Karyn Kusama's "Destroyer"- a crime film especially miserable, right down to the grizzled makeup coated across Nicole Kidman's face to exemplify the haggard weight of her world bending upon her- different? Well, it is and isn't. The film trades in so many themes and situations that have dotted the noir landscape in the past, however Kusama and screenwriters Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi resuscitate their effort into something special because of the layered storytelling whose timelines slowly reveal a painful tendency to protect only the best things from a very bad time. In addition, Kusama's crisp style renders a ubiquitous Los Angeles with new eyes, portraying viaducts and side street banks with just as much underlying ferocity as many other films have treated the beaches and Pacific Palisades mansions. "Destroyer" is a tough, meandering and ultimately a fragile personification of 'miserablism' done with grace and, well, heart.

6. Parasite (Bong Joon-Ho)

Although it's not quite a horror film, one of the most horrific moments of the year on-screen happens in Bong Joon Ho's "Parasite" as a set of crazed-white eyes slowly peers up from the darkness from a set of basement level steps, igniting a child's nightmarish imagination and sending the second half of the film into a frenzy of drastic action and numbing consequence. It's what Joon Ho does best- wringing recognizable genres until they twist into a morass of social commentary and obfuscated styles. What begins as ant act of greedy infiltration by a lower class family into the personal spaces of the upper class starts out simply enough before the screws are tightened and every shot, feeling and mood is controlled masterfully by Joon Ho. There are stretches in this film where I held my breath for what seemed like an eternity, hoping I'd soon be given permission to breathe. Caustically funny and whip-smart tense, "Parasite" is a master firing on all cylinders.

5. Waves (Trey Edward Shults)

A film of two distinct halves. First, an untethered camera floating with a boisterous soundtrack and histrionic emotions with a story that feels right at home in any young adult/teen fiction novel as athletic Kelvin Harrison Jr. deals with a diminishing body, an inebriated state of mind and a relationship that wrecks havoc on everyone involved. It almost all seems like too much. But that's the point of Shults' magnificent work as it pivots in the second half to younger sister Taylor Russell and how the somber reckoning of her family settles around her delicate shoulders. With "Waves", Shults has confirmed himself as a towering voice in modern independent cinema, enraging some and bewitching others. I look forward to whatever he does next.

4. Climax (Gaspar Noe)

Gaspar Noe's latest is a delirious concoction of New Wave musical and Euro-freak out horror film, fire-branded by his swerving aesthetic and provocative sound design that feels more like an assault than a viewing experience. Broken into three parts- including an opening of each character talking from a television set that serves more as a nerdy namedrop for the influences of Noe via the spines of books and VHS tapes cluttered around the image rather than a proper introduction- "Climax" then morphs into a punishing segment of carefully choreographed dance numbers interrupted by the young dancers' vulgar and misogynistic conversations about their carnal desires.... which serves as an apt reminder that Noe once made a film titled "Carne". From there, the film really goes off the rails as someone spikes the communal punch with LSD and the cloistered dance performers each burrow down their individual holes of tormented hell. Some screw the night away. Others fight. Others wander the neon-lit lodge their locked in like specters haunting the corridors of uninhibited youth, all captured by Noe's now trademark long takes that plunge us in, out, and around the confusion and bad trips. It's an unsettling portrait of modern youth, and one of Noe's best films that continues to pursue his aggressive vision of wasted society.

3. A Hidden Life (Terence Malick)

I can't even count how many times I gasped at the visual beauty present in Terence Malick's latest work of cinematic poetry. And then those visuals were overtaken by the emotional gut punch in its story of faithful farmer Franz (August Diehl) and his refusal to serve for Germany in World War II, choosing to stand his ground and be a conscientious objector. I've been out on the last few Malick films (his last great one being "The New World" in 2005), but "A Hidden Life" struck me as something staggering, heartbreaking and completely worthy of Malick's re-anointment as cinema's most purely spiritual guide. It's one of the few films whose passionate inner resolve of its protagonist seems to melt through the screen into our own hearts. 

2. Transit (Christian Petzold)

On another given day, this could easily slide into the top spot on this list. Adapted from a novel by Anna Seghers, "Transit" is a masterwork adapted (and updated) by Petzold from its original intentions of the novel's World War II experiences into the sleek and metropolitan anti-thriller in which the vehicles, dress and locale of today juxtaposed with the occupational fears of yesteryear- although some would argue the occupying forces are stronger and more insidious than ever. Like Petzold's previous film "Phoenix", he gets to play with the notions of a society simultaneously crumbling and rebuilding at the same time, leaving the inhabitants to pick up the personal pieces in its wake. And like "Phoenix", Petzold fashions a final scene so ripe with meaning and so crushing in emotional complexity, it only further solidifies the fact that he's one of the two or three best filmmakers in the world today.

1. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese)

With his previous film "Silence" (2016) and now "The Irishman", Scorsese has certainly entered his pensive period and, as a filmmaker whose lifelong investments have been people struggling with the cause and effect of inner turmoil (both spiritually and non), "The Irishman" may be his crowning reflection on the matter. As a sweeping tapestry of mid-century gangsterism and unionist history, it's a completely enveloping recreation of the stalwart loud mouths (Al Pacino as Jimmy Hoffa) and powerfully quiet sea changers (Joe Pesci as mob boss Russell Bufalino) who had their fingers on the pulse. And as a character study of one man (Robert DeNiro as Frank Sheeran) along for the turbulent and violent ride, it's a meditative masterpiece that ends on such a somber, devastating image that even after 3 and a half hours, I was still stunned it was over.

Retro Active: The Best Non 2019 Films I Saw in 2019

10. Did You Wonder Who Fired the Gun?  (2017) - Documentarian Travis Wilkerson's explorations into history and first person involvement are dry yet highly involving stories. His latest film, "Did You Ever Wonder Who Fired the Gun?" lays bare his own family's sordid past with his great grandfather's possible involvement with a racially motivated murder in the mid 40's. In tracking every possible lead, no matter how tangential, Wilkerson has created an intimately epic incision about a host of ideas, made all the more uncomfortable because it involves people in his own family. How he weaves together home video footage, first person interviews and stately images of long-forgotten graveyards not only speaks to the grace with which he tackles the project, but his honest intentions of not wanting to forget anymore.

9. Split Image (1982) - Seeing this just a few weeks after Ari Aster's "Midsommar" and the resemblance of mind control and the grueling battle for what some people believe are good for them are surprisingly similar. Directed with bare-bones clarity by Ted Kotcheff, "Split Image" is about a young man named Danny (Michael O Keefe) who falls under the spell of a woman (Karen Black) and the religious organization she's a part of led by domineering hippie Peter Fonda. The entire second half of the film involves Danny's family and their attempts to pry him away from the clutches of the group. Enter a live-wire character played to the extreme by James Woods and "Split Image" becomes a ferocious examination of power and influence on both sides, with a question clearly asking which one is better, if either? I"m not sure why this one isn't mentioned more often. Perhaps with the recent passing of Fonda, people will seek it out.

8. The Mayo Clinic (2017) - Long being a fan of Ken Burns and his exhaustive forays into the various corners of our culture, society and locales, his ode to the magic, faith and science of the revered Mayo Clinic falls perfectly in line with his enduring vision. While he always finds nuggest of humanity and wisdom in each of his documentaries, this one wades into the emotional deep end as people are literally going to this place in order to save their lives. The way the film switches back and forth between realized history and the history being made in current patients is, at times, overwhelmingly heartfelt. Burns, next to Frederick Wiseman, remains the greatest documentor of our lives yet.

7. Honeysuckle Rose (1982) - Expecting any real narrative drive from a film featuring Willie Nelson and The Family dealing with life touring on the road and avoiding their expected duties at home would be quite inane. Directed by Jerry Schatzberg with the same sun-drenched rural panache that made his 1973 film "Scarecrow" so marvelous, "Honeysuckle Rose" is really just an excuse to luxuriate in the cosmic cowboy lifestyle singer-songwriter Nelson made popular with his music and attitude. Portraying a cipher of himself, the film observes the band's bus-driven tour across stadiums and honkeytonks while Nelson slowly falls in love with new guitarist Amy Irving. The problem? He's also married to Dyan Cannon. All of that romantic intrigue is secondary to the film's shaggy dog aesthetic and footage seemingly assembled from B-roll of the band horsing around and smoking pot on the bus. All in all, it's a wonderful and ramshackle portrait of aimless stardom and hangover sunrises.

6. The Seventh Code (2013) - It's still so disappointing that after about 2008 and "Tokyo Sonata", the films of Kiyoshi Kurosawa have become increasingly tough to see commodities here in the states. Sure, they may get a token NYFF premier, but then they vanish to the heap of bit torrent sites when their import DVD's hit the overseas market. "The Seventh Code" is one such casualty, but oh so good for the way Kurosawa manages to cram so much genre into an hour long piece made as an Asian pop star vehicle. As the young girl abandoned in a Russian landscape after her one-night stand boyfriend deserts her and tries to go out about his spy-selling secrets mission, pop singer Atsuko Maeda is perfect as the wide-eyed scraggly dog constantly popping up to interrupt his affairs. Swerving from romance comedy to apocalyptic thriller with ease, "The Seventh Code" remains proof that Kurosawa can electrify no matter how thin the premise feels. It even makes room for a music video before the explosive finale.

5. My Night At Maud's (1969) - Coming of cinematic sensibility and lumped in with the French New Wave of the 50's and 60's, filmmaker Eric Rohmer always seemed to stand a bit outside of the group.... partly due to the decade he had on the others in the movement, but mostly because his films were stylistically simpler and thematically denser than his counterparts. I don't mean that as a slight against the others, but his are simply more delicate. A fine case in point is "My Night At Maud's", one of his six "Moral Tales" films completed over the course of a decade that made waves on both shores of the Atlantic. Eschewing the cinematic language tricks that defined the work of Godard, Truffaut and Eustache, Rohmer's tale even dispenses with the lovelorn cad of a male character, opting instead for Jean-Louis Trintignant's devout Catholic thinker who gets a beautiful woman (the titular Maud, played by Francoise Fabian) throwing herself at him, and all he can do is lament about the deeper things in his life. The conversation that Jean-Louis and Maud have in her apartment- after she ushers out her lover and Jean-Louis' friend who brought him to her apartment in the first place- is the throbbing heart of the film. Running in real time for approximately 25 minutes, their conversation is playful, intellectual, flirtatious. It's a one-night stand, but Rohmer doesn't make it feel cheap or dirty. Or, in the case of the French New Wave habits, something of a prerequisite conquest that encompasses most of the basest male elements. This is a film attuned to the spirit and humanity of love in all its intellectual messiness and ill-timed fortunes.

4. Dishonored (1931) - After watching "Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story" and getting to interview filmmaker Alexandra Dean last year, I made it my mission to seek out as many Lamarr and Marlene Dietrich films as I could- both females stars who swayed the popular culture of film in its infancy and broke down barriers of intellect and sexuality like no other. In her collaborations with Josef von Sternberg, Dietrich made a host of films that are alternatively lurid, wild, thrilling and thinly tied to that word known as genre. Their best partnership, I feel, was perhaps the one that gets the least amount of ink. That being "Dishonored". Essentially a spy thriller in which Dietrich is dispatched to gather intel on Russian soldier Victor McLaglen, the film is basically a series of tableaux as Doetrich completely owns each and every frame with her eyes and movements. It's stunning to see how far this film goes in mordant humor and delicate plot twists that drive towards a fatalistic denouement quite unlike any film dared by Hollywood. I recommend seeing all the films in this boxset, but "Dishonored" should be seen and savored for a partnership of artists pushing everything to the edges before there even were edges.

3. The State I Am In (2001) - Home. It's a concept rarely explored in Christian Petzold's filmic universe. He's often content to trace the tumultuous lives of his characters through high-rise glass windows and non-descript roadways around his beloved Germany. And when the idea is touched upon- be it the destructive flux of post-war Berlin in which Nina Hoss tries to re assimilate in "Phoenix" or the simmering bedrock of boredom and jealousy that erupts in "Jerichow"- the violence and deception that erupts from such a simple construct such as "home" becomes like a mythical creature hellbent on pushing everyone out into the open. Such is the case with "The State I Am In" (2000). Actually his fourth film but the first to be released internationally after a trio of made-for-TV products, the film is perhaps the best example of the scenario I've described above. Following a mother (Barbara Auer), father (Richy Muller) and 15 year old Jeanne (Julie Hummer), the film begins with Jeanne at a seaside resort where, although sullen and withdrawn, she befriends a local surfer boy named Heinrich (Bilge Bingul). With the machinations of a coming-of-age story set in motion, the rug is pulled out from underneath us when it's revealed the family is on the run. The nervy and jumpy father isn't just jumpy and nervy because his daughter may be falling in love with the type of boy all fathers fear, but because he and the mother are wanted for crimes against the state as part of their actions in a terrorist group years ago. In fact, young Jeanne has never known a normal life, which makes the abrupt tear away from her newfound love even more confusing and frustrating. The rest of "The State I Am In" details the furious tug of war between Jeanne's blossoming womanhood being stifled by her parent's compulsive need to stay one step ahead of the authorities. Filming in his usual brisk, clipped style that rarely tells more than it needs to, one gets the feeling this is as close to a spy-thriller Petzold will ever get. One scene in particular in which the family are stopped at a red light and believe the police to be closing in features a wordless series of edits that punctuates the silence of what it may feel like when one understands and even acknowledges the inevitable is situated in front of them. Petzold has again crafted a mysterious and intriguing exploration of a life in constant flux.

2. Union Station (1950) - One of my favorite chase scenes in all of cinema resides in William Friedkin's "The French Connection" (1971). No, it's not the very muscular and chaotically choreographed car chase under the subway system, but a game of cat-and-mouse-hide-and-seek that pits Popeye Doyle (Gene Hackman) and his fleet-footed attempt in keeping up with his target (Fernando Rey) on the hectic streets and (eventual) busy New York subway system. It's a masterclass set-piece of editing and sound that strikes at the heart of two people trying to out duel each other. So imagine how crestfallen I was- and alternatively thrilled- while watching Rudolph Mate's "Union Station" (1950) a few months ago when the same type of criminal versus cop chess appeared in this aces crime thriller. I may need to go back and see if Friedkin lip services Mate's film in any way, but "The French Connection" is undeniably indebted to "Union Station's" crisp, boldly edited chase scene that features a cop following a suspected criminal around and about, ending up on a subway car where the tables are suddenly turned. In fact, pretty much all of Mate's masterpiece is a brilliant study of bodies in motion and the logistics of men standing, watching, waiting.... something that's been the machismo hallmark of current directors such as Michael Mann and Johnny To for decades now. One of those men standing and watching is William Holden, the cop of the film's train station title who's drawn into a web of tension when a group of kidnapping suspects use his train terminal to do their extortion and bidding. Partnering with the New York police, Holden initially helps them identify the criminals (with the help of beautiful Nancy Olsen), and from that point on, "Union Station" realizes several sequences of paranoid stake-outs, double crosses and electric action scenes that sets the film apart from the rudimentary film noir efforts the film is often associated with. Coming at the beginning of the 50's when noir was beginning to metastasize in other things (i.e. the hard boiled cynicism of Robert Aldrich and Cold War metaphors), "Union Station" is so thrilling for its simplicity and its attention to form. None of this is surprising since the director, Mate, came from the ranks of celebrated Hollywood cinematographers (and had already helmed two highly regarded noir classics "D.O.A." in 1949 and "The Dark Past" in 1948). What is surprising, however, is that "Union Station" is a largely forgotten relic of the noir wave that deserves its place in the pantheon of hard boiled cinema.

1. Model Shop (1969) - One of the best films of the 60's (and current recipient of a mint Blu-ray treatment by Twilight Time), Jacques Demy's roving Los Angeles character study about a layabout as he cruises around the city trying to collect money from friends is, ultimately, about so much more than that. The man, played by a somewhat vapid Gary Lockwood, soon turns his frustrated attention to a beautiful "model shop" model (Anouk Aimee) he runs into and the film becomes a somewhat tender, momentary exchange of ideas and feelings between the two. It's also an amazing illustration of Los Angeles in the 60's. From the opening shot that doesn't just establish the quaintly ramshackle abode of Lockwood, but starts at one house next to an oil pump and then slowly tracks down the entire beach-side street eventually pivoting to its main location, Demy is hell bent on essaying the sparkling terrain of- as one character says- the "baroque geometry" of all Los Angeles. Receiving some resuscitated screenings earlier this year around the country as an obvious influence on Tarantino's latest project, "Model Shop" is an extraordinary piece of cinema that deserves every bit of reclamation. And that ending. Gah! Love it so much.