*NOTE: This list is compiled strictly of titles I saw over the course of January through December 2021. 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.
10. The Reason I Jump (Dir. Jerry Rothwell)
Around the start of 2021, there was a strong conversation about the topic of positive autism representation. With many criticizing contemporary media that got a few things wrong (notably having neurodivergents played by neurotypicals), the question ultimately became whether there was any that perfectly represented the spectrum. By some miracle, Rothwell was there with this documentary that explored diverse perspectives of non-verbal autistics from around the world, both reflecting the familiar struggles of society but also allowing poetic voiceover and impactful sound design to convey the internal life of these people in ways that created a previously unrecognized way of connecting with the world around them.
It should be noted that while this is an exemplary piece of work that it doesn’t reflect the spectrum entirely. In fact, it would be difficult for one narrative to do it justice. Still, the chance to spend time watching how these individuals thrive is beautiful, breaking taboos that having support needs means that one is completely helpless. There are ways to adapt and cope. Thankfully Rothwell refuses to allow the documentary to dive into “inspiration porn” and instead allows personal growth and empathy to define the individuals. There are even points where the film drops most narrative and becomes about simply existing in the world. At that point, he’s created something transcendent, a piece of art that not only makes one understand but appreciate that being autistic isn’t a hindrance, but just a different way of looking at the world.
9. The Power of the Dog (Dir. Jane Campion)
After spending a few years in the TV world, Campion has returned to film with one of her most beautiful, meticulous films in decades. The story of cowboys is given new layers as she uses the toxic masculinity subtext to inform every character’s actions. Everyone has something that they’re repressing, forced to keep their true selves from being seen. As the story progresses, it becomes more and more difficult, especially as the room to hide becomes harder to reach. Benedict Cumberbatch has never been better than as Phil Burbank, where he portrays the complexities of masculinity in raw and vulnerable ways. His confidence controls the scenes, forcing the viewer to grapple with his slow unraveling. It all occurs so gradually that it’s downright astounding to witness, creating a portrait that is heartbreaking.
The story has a meditative quality, taking in the beauty of the mountains that surround them, hiding a profundity that could free them. What’s astounding is how every dramatic beat builds, eventually leading to a tumbling third act where everything comes pouring out in a masterful fashion. This isn’t the world of the heroes, but of humanity through the lens of miscommunication, an ability for anyone to see each other as how they want. Not everyone does it with devious intent, but what becomes scarier is how practical it all seems through Campion’s amazing direction. This is a story that delicately pulls off moments of no return, forcing the audience to worry as they notice the inability to look back, to do things differently this time. It’s a neo-western that may be rooted in the past but feels timely to this moment, asking questions about society that still inflict people to this day. The question is whether or not we’ll learn from it this time.
8. In the Heights (Dir. Jon M. Chu)
After countless delays, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s debut musical finally hits film with urgency. Not since Chicago (2002) has there been a film that so openly embraces the musical form, finding local shopkeep Usnavi remixing his life story with a catchy songbook and a world that has a lyrical quality. His shoe can scratch a sewer grate like a DJ. The sidewall of apartment complexes can become a dance floor like an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers number. Even “$96,000” arrives with so much energy that it could fuel the genre for another 20 years. Everything feels so alive, managing to combine the history of the medium with the authenticity of diverse communities.
Anthony Ramos leads the film with a star-making quality, where even the way he navigates his corner store has a dance to it. For a story with a seemingly mundane premise, there’s never a dull moment, where the story of The American Dream is fused through contemporary immigrant issues. The Spanglish electrifies the script and Chu’s admiration for directors like Vincente Minnelli and Stanley Donen are apparent in how he makes the world feel alive. This is the most shameless musical since Bob Fosse was still doing it, and one can hope that more forgo their shyness and just embrace the block party aesthetic. This is the story about feeling alive in a community, and rarely has it been so exciting to witness. As Usnavi points out early in the film, it’s important to share the story so it doesn’t fade away. Let’s be thankful that this one isn’t going anywhere.
7. Judas and the Black Messiah (Dir. Shaka King)
From the first frame, there is a dreaded sense that something is going to go wrong. Bill O'Neal (Lakeith Stanfield) seems primed to turn on people for his selfish benefit. As he escapes gunfire and arrests, he uses the revolution being led by Black Panthers leader Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) to undo any social progress. There is a tragedy that plays out every time they sit in the same room, allowing the audience to witness the charisma of Hampton as he tries to imagine a brighter future. Even in performance, it’s easy to believe because he has that much natural gravitas, so demanding attention that is both thrilling and dangerous.
It helps that Kaluuya’s Oscar-winning performance is undeniable and that it’s complemented by Stanfield’s smarmy turn. As a figure that sought positive change, King allows for a look into both men’s complexity while allowing small moments to reflect the ways they bond, forming trust that is ultimately doomed. The subtext irritates as the audience forms empathy, wanting to see the justice that Hampton looks for only to find it slowly being taken away. The title alludes to The Bible’s story of Jesus and Judas, and without direct photocopy, it manages to update it to 20th Century American history with such ease that it becomes downright brilliant. Maybe he wouldn’t have been the messiah, but his power to motivate change was undeniable. Taking that away is a heartbreaking cardinal sin that continues to stain decades later.
6. Spencer (Dir. Pablo Larrain)
The past few years have brought with it a certain Princess Diana renaissance that has produced some fascinating art. Whether in The Crown or the oft-maligned Diana the Musical, there’s been plenty of material to explore around “The People’s Princess.” However, none of them could prepare audiences for Larrain’s vision. Imagine if Diana was in The Shining (1980), diving into her worst psychological tendencies while trying to keep it together for family dinners and social gatherings. The film is more of a ghost story, a dive into memories both of the protagonist and the royal family whose lives inhabited these halls. There’s grief and depression around every corner, where the search for comfort has a despairing absence in at times ironic ways.
Kristen Stewart delivers another eviscerating performance, depicting Diana not necessarily as accurate but as something more metaphysical. With her head tilted and a withering tone, there is a sense of weakness overpowering every decision. No matter how hard she tries, everything wears on her, needing to be more a symbol than a human. As someone who is supposed to have won the lottery and become a real-life princess, it’s amazing how tied she is to escaping this trap, of returning to a normal life where she can proudly buy KFC and not be judged for it. The moments when she’s happiest are the ones that are the least elegant, lacking the elegance that many would dream of. The story is a foggy nightmare and study of seasonal depression unlike any other. It may not be the most thorough Diana story told even this year, but it’s one of the most compelling studies of what lied underneath the interpretive smile, calmly waiting to not be judged for every small action.
Coming Up Next: Sea Blobs, Vespas, and Shiva Babies
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