Top 10 of 2022

I'm still thinking about how much there is to unpack and appreciate in this very outlandish film. "Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths" is a DARK comedy. Because although there are plenty of weird visuals and hallucinogenic scenarios, the reality of this beautiful film is a tragic journey of self-discovery and coping with loss. Silverio (played by Daniel Gimenez Cacho) is a documentarian filmmaker who is torn between his identity as a native Mexican who loves his country, and an ambitious artist lauded by the United States, despite struggles (both past and present) between the two countries. He's also dealing with an extremely personal family issue that I won't give away here, but when it's revealed (in its own wacky way), it's devastating. There's suspenseful drama coupled with odd lunacy through the eyes of someone who's "not all there," so to speak. Just watch the trailer for a taste of how eccentric and VISUAL this film is, and despite how weird some images are at first, Alejandro G. Inarritu wisely lets them stay on screen long enough to be potent, not just for some strange shock value. The music is fitting; tear-inducingly beautiful at some moments, jovial at the funnier scenarios. It's truly another Netflix movie that, like "Blonde," feels like a dream. Only this one is engaging from the first second to the moment the credits roll. And I think one of the most successful pieces here is that Silverio is a character who doesn't have some kind of tragic flaw. He doesn't cheat on his wife, he doesn't do anything that's nefarious. He's just a human who has made some normal human mistakes. He's a good father. He's a caring individual. He has a sense of humor. It makes everything easier to relate to, and it's also a breath of fresh air to have a central (male) character who isn't mistreating his family or uncompassionate for others. I absolutely love this movie - and though I usually despise long titles - "Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths" deserves to have its full name written out.

Oh how I wish I saw this in theaters, because The Batman is perhaps my favorite film adaptation of the famous caped crusader ever put to screen. Like most, I groaned at another Batman revamp/reboot/remake - but this movie is truly on a different level. It's an extremely dark, deeply disturbing film noir that both stays true to its comic book roots without rehashing the story we all know. We don't have flashbacks or exposition about Bruce Wayne's parents being murdered - instead it becomes part of the present story in creating an intimate character study. Bruce Wayne is dead here - he fully embraces his identity as a masked vigilante instead of trying to live two separate lives. Robert Pattinson is a fine choice for Batman; he's clearly comfortable in this version: a brooding recluse who is struggling with his identity, ambitions, and purpose. It makes the rather emo choices in music (Nirvana’s “Something in the Way”) fit perfectly. As a film noir, "The Batman" is a detective story, allowing us to follow along and therefore making the 3-hour runtime extremely engaging. I wasn't bored once. Each twist is well-crafted to the point where you're horrified and even devastated when you figure out the next step of the villain's plan. And though Paul Dano's acting talent is unmatched here, the script does an incredible job at showing how the Riddler is a demented, terrifying villain with multiple creepy layers. And these layers peel back perfectly as the film progresses. There are many socio-political angles to complement the story, and aside from a throwaway line about white privilege, it's all the same themes that Batman has focused on since the beginning. It's just more explicit here than in any other film. Corruption, injustice, rich taking from the poor, mass hysteria (shown here through an online forum), and abuse of power are all at play. In fact, this movie does a phenomenal job at showing the difference between outright abuse of power and someone in power making an honest but fatal mistake. Grey areas abound in several characters: Selina Kyle's Catwoman (Zoe Kravitz) has a simple goal until she can’t outrun her past, and The Penguin (Colin Farrell is unrecognizable) is a shady hothead who clearly bends the rules but keeps himself just safe enough to avoid criminal charges. Everything connects marvelously. I haven’t gotten to how magnificently filmed this movie is. Like 2019’s Joker this is a grimy, gritty Gotham City with unsettling corners and locales. And the fact that it won’t change is told in a very visual way. Much like some of the rougher violence in 2008’s The Dark Knight this movie excels because of what we DON’T see. Our minds do a lot of the graphic work for us, which makes this movie a part-horror film as well. It avoids the R rating quite stylishly (though it's more disturbing than many R-rated films). I also have to mention that finally we have a movie with a long car chase that isn’t repetitive. It’s realistic and edge-of-your-seat exciting. I could go on because movies made this well just make me happy, but I can’t write an entire essay on Facebook. Conclusion: like a dark puzzle, “The Batman” is a movie where everything has a place – thematically and technically. I don’t know if I want a sequel or not, and that’s one of the best compliments I can give.

Thirteen Lives performs a magnificent balancing act on the fine line between pure adrenaline rush and intense slow-burn. Each sudden move or uncertain glance keeps you guessing and invested, but it’s not a fast movie. And the toughest part for a movie like this is that everyone already knows the ending. It takes skill to recreate the tension we’ve seen in documentaries and on the news when this incident occurred in summer 2018. And that skill comes from a simple idea: the mystery of the 13 Thai boys trapped in the cave remains as such; only when someone from the outside ventures in do we get a glimpse of them. Many other filmmakers would’ve opted for some exposition, to maybe speculate and show the real-time ordeal of the boys getting trapped, but Ron Howard wisely chooses to keep us in the dark (no pun intended). And it makes the movie’s central theme – the resiliency of the human spirit – shine beautifully as everyone perseveres and sacrifices for a greater cause. Since it’s all about people working together, it’s smart that no actor hogs the screen too much. Yes, big names like Viggo Mortensen and Colin Farrell grace the screen and have their incredibly strong moments, but they never take over so much to where the entire movie becomes about them. It’s a long movie, but not a laborious one; the map that constantly appears onscreen creates both ominous tension and good exposition for any viewer who can’t grasp the depth of the caves. The dark and dreary underwater sequences never get too exhausting or tiring to watch, as they’re edited to be all-engrossing and maybe even a bit confusing because these rescuers spent so much of their time literally lost. Again, it’s a movie excellently built around tension – and the fact that we feel that tension for an event that’s 4 years passed is high praise. Thirteen Lives is a rare gem where extra flair would’ve made it feel too sensationalized. Instead, Ron Howard’s directorial talent allows the inspiring story to take the lead, and the film comes out as one of his absolute best.

When I went to see Nope, there were several horror movie trailers that played before - all of them looking like either generic jump-scare fare, or the mind-numbingly slow, artistic horror that bores you to sleep before it gets to anything remotely interesting. So even if you're not a fan of Jordan Peele's work (which I am), you have to admit he creates some truly original films. And while 2019's Us might still be my favorite, "Nope" is a complex and layered film worthy of a lot of praise. And it also deserves to be seen in a theater. "Us" and Get Out were more direct in their messaging - "Nope" challenges its audience to search for the answers and hidden meanings, and it's especially entertaining because there is definitely more than one. It has the traditional elements of an alien invasion movie, but with that subtext it creates a story where ambition, clout, virality, TikTok "influencer" culture, and even Hollywood magic is given a commentary. It's both a love letter AND a criticism of those behind the lens who look for the "perfect" shot while ignoring the needs of others. It also reminded me of how storm chasers are constantly filming dangerous tornadoes - both for research but also for the spectacle of it. Because tornadoes are a type of weather phenomenon that are destructive yet a sight to behold, much like the threat in "Nope" (don't worry, just a comparison, not a spoiler). Despite being about "spectacle," this film is an excellent cinematic example where telling instead of showing can actually work well - because there is one sub-plot that is very upsetting, yet we don't see a lot of it, so our imaginations do the rest of the work. And of course on top of all this is the fact that this film itself IS a spectacle in its own way. We are going to see it, and there are times we want to see more, yet we might regret it. Visually stunning and thematically thought-provoking (with just enough of the classic horror tropes), "Nope" is a movie you should definitely say "yep" to seeing. Again - in a theater.

2022 was the year of wild & outrageous yet profoundly deep “thinker” films. Damien Chazelle’s Babylon seems to complete the 2022 trifecta with Everything Everywhere All At Once and "Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” in that it’s a wild ride full of unconventional ideas or downright wacky & graphic scenarios, yet I can’t stop thinking about it because there is just so much to unpack. Chazelle has probably managed to piss off every director who ever wanted to make a “love letter to Hollywood” movie; between La La Land and “Babylon,” he has now commandeered both sides of the fence: the dreamers and the depraved. “Babylon” spends a lot of its time focusing on excess during its first half with chaotic parties and antics, some of them maybe pushing the envelope too much for either comedy or shock value’s sake. But it’s in spite of all that craziness where the film shines brightest: Biblical implications (just look at the film’s title) about immorality and even amorality, hypocrisy among the most elite of Hollywood, what it means to be a falling star, and realizing the eternal possibilities of art (specifically film) when done right. These all come to a head in the film’s final few minutes, and beautifully so. Every performance is outstanding: Brad Pitt may have won his Oscar for Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, but his work here is far better. Diego Calva is a welcome newcomer, especially as he gets more screentime in the end. And Margot Robbie – she has officially entered into “insane” territory where I believe she must be insane to act as incredibly as she does in every film, “Babylon” being no exception. It may be her best work yet. The film twists and turns thematically and visually: the dynamic camerawork gives the rather gross opening party a feel of prestige; no one could make elephant excrement, rampant drug use, and all other forms of depravity look so tasteful. And there’s one very long sequence in the middle of this 3-hour epic about the first time studios used sound: and it’s one of the greatest scenes ABOUT filmmaking that I’ve ever seen: funny, frustrating, and nuanced. And with any Damien Chazelle film, his longtime musical partner Justin Hurwitz is just around the corner. The music of “Babylon” is FUN. It’s dynamic and fitting for each scene – outrageous or not. It’s the kind of soundtrack you would listen to on your own. Its critical and box office numbers are extremely disheartening, and perhaps the 3-hour runtime or the graphic content is an understandable deterrent. There are things in this film that could’ve been left out. But, I think some of it is a case of people just being mad at Damien Chazelle making another profoundly entertaining and thought-provoking film. “Babylon” will certainly become a necessary piece of film history and appreciation in years to come.

What's the weirdest movie you've ever seen? Did it change genres within a single frame? Was it full of gross-out comedy one minute and then provoke deep existential questions the next? Is it something you're not sure you want to watch again but you know you probably should? If the answer is "yes" then it may be Everything Everywhere All At Once, production company A24's crack at the action-packed "multiverse" trend that is currently dominating Marvel Studios. It's certainly one of the wackiest films out there - but sometimes the oddest stories are the ones that have the most thriving messages at their cores. Nihilism and pessimism are put under a microscope here, and instead of simply landing on a cliche "love yourself and be kind to others" trope, this movie takes its time unpacking that sentiment and explaining all facets of it. A mother-daughter relationship is central to this movie, as Evelyn (played by an authentic, empathetic, yet hilarious Michelle Yeoh) spends so much time trying to connect with her daughter while learning about her own self-worth in the process. She gets to experience her own failings, falls, and "what ifs" firsthand - perhaps learning to cherish the life she has, but also improve upon it. There are multiple complex messages to appreciate - but you have to get past the time-jumping, martial arts action, raunchy Deadpool-like humor, arthouse ambitions, and downright quirky scenarios in order to get there. I for one enjoyed most of the zaniness - especially a scene late in the movie that resembles A Ghost Story (one of the greatest films of the past decade). Though the movie is way too long, I was never bored. The editing is genius. The action is innovative. And most of the comedy lands perfectly - though a visual gag about "hot dog fingers" is disappointingly beaten to a pulp that I just rolled my eyes every time it was referenced. Basically, "Everything Everywhere All at Once" is a movie that no one in their right mind would make. The script doesn't sound like it would work, the jokes are cartoony, and the messages seem cliche. But put it all together, and unexpectedly, it's an extremely engaging film that is truly something special to behold. One of the themes is about doing something unexpected and "impossible" in order to trigger the strength to accomplish a goal, and I think that's a very fitting metaphor for this movie.

Though I’m unfamiliar with the source novel and never saw the original film from 1930 (bad me) – I can safely say that this new adaptation took some notes from 1917 (arguably one of the greatest modern war films ever made). It’s an all-encompassing look at the horrors of World War I while following a central character and being relentless in its violence. On display we have the brutality of man, the terror of new war technology (there’s a frightening scene with tanks), expectations vs. reality, propaganda, and the stark disconnect between fighting soldiers and those in power making the decisions (on paper). It’s rare when a war movie makes it that clear. In just the first 10 minutes, we realize that Paul (Felix Kammerer) is going to realize the hard way that fighting in a war is NOT fun & games. And then the tragedy tap flows: but it’s not just a bunch of sad scenarios for the sake of making a “sad movie.” You FEEL each devastating turn of events. Kammerer – in his first-ever film role – could be a silent film star in how much he manages through his facial expressions and physical acting. Paul is clearly a kid in over his head, yet wields an empathetic wisdom to combat the brutal violence around him – and Kammerer nails it by having chemistry with every supporting player. The violence and gore had a place without seeming excessive or shocking, and the staging/cinematography is breathtaking. There’s a coupling of shots where we see the silhouette of exhausted soldiers marching in a line juxtaposed with lead politicians walking in single file to a crucial meeting: visually perfect in asking the question: whose war is this? Top it off with an emotional score combined with brilliant sound design, All Quiet on the Western Front is a magnificent and horrifying portrait of war and its ruthless, all-encompassing brutality – though not for the squeamish.

Having never been an Elvis fan, the best compliment I can give Baz Luhrmann's new film is that I now have a deeper appreciation and understanding for one of America's most iconic performers. Especially in an era where you think all the ways to make a grand musical biopic have been tried, along comes Elvis - a flashy and fast-paced film that feels like it takes place on stage as we see the titular singer struggle between his own passions as a performer and the demands of his manager. Elvis (Austin Butler) is given fame, but also a life dependent on authority and control. His showmanship and talent is his own, it's not fabricated for him. Yet, he couldn't get the chance to use his talents the way he wanted while under the thumb of the Colonel (Tom Hanks). Butler knocks the demanding role out of the park - sure he nails the deep voice, but it's his respectful nuance in dealing with the pressures of being Elvis that make him shine. His bouts of anger and sadness while being a genuinely sweet person are played with grace. Behind the camera, Baz Luhrmann is at his best with sparkly montages, musical interludes, and just the right amount of slowed-down dialogue. The film never seems to hit a low point. Every musical sequence is perfect - it's hard to pick a favorite, though I'll say the exquisitely filmed "If I Can Dream" is one of the many moments that gave me that "deeper appreciation" for Elvis. Since it IS Luhrmann, there are a few moments of out-of-place rap/hip-hop background music (perhaps to point out the evolution of music and the fact that Elvis' career was defined by the sounds and disappointingly low success of black artists), but they are forgivable moments. It's certainly both a banger of a biopic and a cinematic thrill ride fitting for someone so endearingly titled "The King."

Before seeing TÁR, heralded as one of the most acclaimed movies of the year, I kept seeing comparisons to both Whiplash and Black Swan. And while those comparisons are apt in that they’re both about artists pushing themselves to the furthest limits, I think “Tar” aims at something a little different. Cate Blanchett (as the title character: Lydia Tar) is not a student. She is already “there.” She has the awards, the acclaim, the prestige. She is pushing herself due to her own obsession AND just for herself because she knows her talent. And the movie is quick to make sure we don’t underestimate her raw talent as a genius of classical music. It’s not about reaching the top – it’s about maintaining her spot on the pedestal, and making us question how far is too far to do that. “Tar” tests our sympathies about success and the personalities of those we worship. Cancel culture is front-and-center. Is Lydia a detestable person who deserves nothing? Or can we separate the art from the artist? I like to think her flaws and deep-seated issues are all shown in spite of her art and brilliance – mostly because this movie does something unnatural for a 2020-era movie. It actively rips apart identity politics: those who think art and interpretation hinges solely on race, gender, and national origin. There is a very long sequence, all shot in one take, where Blanchett dissects this asinine argument from a student in a college class, and it’s some of the best writing I’ve heard all year; it's something modern audiences need to hear. Now to be fair, the movie makes moves to include sexual harassment and bullying into the mix as well, which no one should ever tolerate. But in the context of art and history, refusal to acknowledge or outright destroy/censor is a treacherous slope. Just look at the past week: how an angry internet caused a recent Taylor Swift music video to be edited so as not to “offend” anyone, while at the same time devaluing Swift’s own experiences regarding the video’s personal subject matter. But I digress. “Tar” paints all of its tense subjects in a dark and dreary picture, yet the overall slow-burn plot of a psychological thriller allows the 2.5 hour runtime work. It’s definitely worth a rewatch since there is so much to pick up on, especially when the first 30 minutes contain so much classical music jargon that you might be lost (I was). And like the movie’s style, Cate Blanchett’s performance is a magnificent slow-burn. Lydia is a very complex character, and Blanchett plays all sides with class and realism: the professional conductor sitting down for a prestigious interview, the passionate & ruthless artist, and the spiteful figurehead who is convinced someone is against her. The music makes sure that Lydia is the center of attention, as all music is diegetic (existing within the film’s world), and almost exclusively conducted by her. It’s a monumental achievement in directing and acting, and the movie gathers its frighteningly relevant themes into a profound and incredibly complex commentary (warning?) about the dangers of pedestals – especially when you’re the one at the top.

Quentin Tarantino changes history in his movies and no one bats an eye. The Woman King does the same and everyone is in uproar. That’s not to say that two wrongs make a right, but when a film as exciting, as well-acted, and as life-affirming as "The Woman King" comes along, there needs to be some merit given (especially when Tarantino’s revisionist history doesn’t always deliver). Yes, the Dahomey Kingdom depicted in this movie sold slaves, profited from it, and never changed their ways. The movie attempts to show an alternate reality where there is a conversion among the people. But despite these inaccuracies, there is also a story about female solidarity, courage, and most importantly, how ALL life is precious. Especially in this political climate, I never expected a major plot point to revolve around how a child conceived in rape can and should grow up and go on to do great things. There’s even a brilliantly-written conversation specifically about how the child’s life is valued, yet still manages to showcase genuine sympathy for the long-suffering mother. My main point is that my more conservative-leaning friends should think twice before dumping on a movie that they clearly haven’t seen. And now on to even more positives! Viola Davis is an absolute force to be reckoned with, nailing both the physical and emotional demands of her role without falling into cliché pitfalls. Like many of her performances, she commands the screen. Lashana Lynch is an incredible supporting character; not only is she a fierce/frightening onscreen presence, but she is also the best at delivering appropriate comic relief. The cinematography and choreography is on par with the combat and war scenes of Gladiator, with each blow hitting hard enough that you FEEL each one (see this in theaters and up close if you dare). In fact, I’ll say "The Woman King" is a rare film that baffles me in how it secured a PG-13 rating when it feels so violent. And the final jewel in the crown: the music. The movie boasts an epic score that combines the use of drums and the chanting of the Agojie warriors into enchanting rhythms to match the intense battles and inspiring themes. So historical inaccuracies aside, The Woman King is an epic and triumphant film with some incredible performances, engaging action, and a very welcome life-affirming message at its strong beating heart.