*NOTE: This list is compiled strictly of titles I saw over the course of January through December 2020. Whether due to availability or awareness, this list is subject to change though will not be reflected here. These are the titles that spoke to me directly at the time of publication and are definitely worth checking out.
15. Transhood (Dir. Sharon Liese)
Even if things don’t seem that way, society has slowly been changing for the better. It was less than a decade ago that gay marriage was legalized and massive advancements for the LGBT+ community sought to change how a new generation saw queerness. Nothing speaks as perfectly to this shift quite like Liese’s warmhearted documentary. While it opens by saying that every transgender person’s story is different, it still feels important to document them, to help normalize the experience as something human. The subjects in this film range in age from young child to teenager, and even on this short spectrum their stories vary in very interesting ways.
The story unfolds over a five-year span, reflecting how their lives evolve with their identities. On a personal level, Liese captures the look of home lives both in how the subjects deal with their social lives but also the parents who raise them. It’s a well-rounded view of both the joys of being true to your identity, but also the sacrifices everyone makes in a world that may not be forgiving. This was shot during a time of major controversy, finding some roped into protests over the infamous transgender bathroom ban. Overall, this is an effort to raise a discussion about why some find an issue with transgender culture while providing insight into why they want to just be understood.
Not everyone’s story ends the same way. There are even some bold moments among the parental subjects that find their own insecurity impacting relationships. Even then, those who continue their journey on a positive note is something uplifting. While there may always be discrimination, it can’t compare to the happiness and acceptance that they have in their personal lives. By placing a camera among their circles, Liese conveys a quest for tolerance that is profound in its simplicity, reflecting how society continues to evolve in small ways for the better. If every person who watches this can come away with a little more compassion for the transgender community, then it will have done its job.
14. The Forty-Year-Old Version (Dir. Radha Blank)
For as open-minded as media can be, there is still a strong taboo about aging out of a demographic. Everyone adores the creative mind when they’re young, creating these stories full of idealism and vitality. It is what drives the culture. However, there becomes an issue when they grow older, specifically for Black women in their 40s. Even with an award-winning career, Blank plays a woman struggling to feel like anything she creates matters. As she resorts to teaching a theater class how to express themselves, she finds them constantly butting heads with male students likely to derail the whole project with gross-out humor. It’s the type of embarrassing self-defeat that would keep anybody from wanting to stay in art.
Thanks to Blank, there is an eagerness to right a lot of wrongs. As she is assigned to put on a show (not unlike In the Heights), she finds the creative process being put under the constant compromise. She smiles through gritted teeth at the white investors, claiming that they know progressivism better than her even more radical ideas. She comically pokes fun at the process, questioning whether it’s suitable to create art that will be seen. After all, she is growing too old to be the next big thing. Sometimes half-baked is better than nothing at all.
The film’s greatest moment comes not from the production itself, but Blank’s desire to connect with her demographic. Having revived her rap career with the catchy “Poverty Porn,” she invites older women to perform a rap battle. As much as this is a story about listening to all voices, this scene is a celebration of women who never made it. They’re just as deserving of having their art consumed, to be thought of, and treated as something more substantial. Blank’s directorial debut is a livewire full of hot concepts, asking audiences to wonder why growing old is such a terrible thing. Doesn’t wisdom come with age? It’s about time everyone realized that.
13. First Cow (Dir. Kelly Reichardt)
The story begins from a riverside, watching an incoming boat delivering supplies. Buried somewhere are the skeletons of the protagonists. They have been swallowed up by the earth, their identities now indistinct. Who are they? To everyone who walks past this plot, they’re not likely to stop and realize what they have contributed to America. For Reichardt, she’s interested in going deeper, putting together a story that has long since disappeared. It’s one about two men and a cow, struggling to have any stake in this country’s future.
Over that time, Cookie (John Magaro) forms a bond with King-Lu (Orion Lee) that leads to some potential profit. They bond over cooking food that makes them the talk of the town, creating this desire to continue providing something plentiful to the community. For Reichardt, it’s not about having dozens of twists and turns, but finding these intimate moments of people bonding, making something out of meager options, and finding a bigger wealth in the process. These small moments make it an endearing portrait of the past, reflecting a rich culture in Oregon that’s rarely seen.
There is of course the milk cow, owned by Chief Factor (Toby Jones), who comes to symbolize the greatest resource in the film. Even as people colonize the Oregonian geography, they never lose sight of the cow. On paper, it’s ridiculous but in action it reveals the fragility of this landscape, the need to respect every resource, and to love nature. It’s a balance of wants and needs that creates something more powerful. In the quietness is something more profound, creating this powerful drama about how much history has been ignored, of resources that disappear due to small misunderstandings. It’s important to hold onto these stories and, thanks to Reichardt, even the cow leaves behind a memorable performance.
12. Happiest Season (Dir. Clea DuVall)
The Christmas season is supposed to be a time about love and family. When those things are pitted against each other, it often leads to something more traumatic. While this is a story that centers on a lesbian couple entering a conservative environment, they’re far from the only ones suffering from psychological damage. They’re an overachieving family that can’t even go to an ice rink without seeing who could skate faster. They undermine each other about their personal success, like how they’ve wasted college degrees. The constant undermining reflects a struggle of acceptance by anyone, even as they try to capture the perfect picture for Instagram of the family, donned in cute Christmas attire.
But mother (Mary Steenburgen) is too critical of the picture, thinking that Abby (Kristen Stewart) made it too blurry. The repression of Abby’s relationship with Harper (Mackenzie Davis) eventually drives them apart, looking for acceptance in sometimes unhealthy, irrational places. It’s a place where the adopted family of gay best friend John (a delightful Dan Levy) feels safer, giving advice that comes across as normal. Within every frame is an awareness of these unspoken bonds isolating the family, creating a struggle to even see each other as human.
It’s a Christmas comedy that is high on the laugh quotient but never forgets the pain that still follows the LGBT+ community. The idea of coming out to anyone, let alone a family full of issues, is traumatizing. The constant presence of closets, of hallways that feel claustrophobic, only add to the subliminal trauma these five days have. When Abby and Harper can only be honest behind closed doors, it creates a question of what it means to be in love both with each other and to a natural-born family. As one of the first mainstream queer holiday movies, it does a lot with excellent performances (see also: Aubrey Plaza) that light up with cheer and show that everyone has a little to learn this holiday season. Hopefully one of those things is tolerance.
11. Palm Springs (Dir. Max Barbakow)
With 2020 experiencing umpteen lockdowns, there is a good chance that this year has felt like one long Groundhog Day. As far as pastiches go, this Andy Samberg comedy is one of the most effective. The story starts at a wedding in Palm Springs, CA where Nyles (Samberg) is trying to get through one day… over and over. He’s drunk umpteen cans of beers, floated in the pool for endless hours. His life has reached a point of literal stunted growth, and the madness of watching the world not change eventually takes a toll on him. He becomes damaged, realizing that he can never escape his prior behavior, never grow.
This is a tragedy catapulted by the presence of Sarah (Cristin Milioti), now stuck in the terrible time loop with Nyles. They become partners in their own destruction, willing to amuse themselves with increasingly awful behavior, doing everything in their power to feel alive. What gives the film an edge is a moment when everything becomes underwhelming, where Sarah no longer can take this ritual, feeling trapped in a scenario that has eaten away at her morality. As much as this is a tale of survival, it’s also one of maintaining dignity and recognizing what matters in one’s life.
Sometimes people can’t change until they’re stuck in a cynical spiral, watching their lives fail to evolve. Nyles and Sarah need to find ways to move beyond exes, accept love into their lives, and find something more substantial besides wasting away in the desert. Once the wedding is finally over, will they be able to find happiness? Underneath the wild comedy, especially from Milioti, is a heartbreaking story about feeling trapped in life. With some solid fantasy twists, this is the feel-good metaphor for 2020. While this whole year has felt like an unproductive cycle of sameness, there is the hope that it will also come with positive change. All that has to happen is a moment of zen and maybe someone to believe in the future.
Coming Up Next: Dead Relatives, Jazz Musicians, and Kings of Staten Island
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