*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.
5. Luca (Dir. Enrico Casarosa)
After diving head-first one too many times into high concept stories, Pixar decided to take a step back and produce their best film in years. The comedy has a very simple plot (Luca, a boy from the sea, wants to win a Vespa) and does everything to make the brisk running time one of the best hangout movies of the year. It’s a trip through portside Italian vistas, where awkward encounters are the norm and the film embraces the Neo-Realism of yesteryear. It’s one of those comforting stories whose arcs are built around conversations, of attempting to understand and respect other people’s differences. It may not seem like much, but by the end it has the reliable, tearjerker vibes of a summer afternoon coming to an end, wishing to hold on for a little longer.
It is a relief to see Pixar go for a simpler tale. By taking away the complicated hypertext, the characters are allowed to simply exist, having the familiar passions of youth. This story of identity and being proud of who you are has enough of a hook, especially in moments where characters build bicycles or have dreams beyond the cosmos. Even in a world populated with talking sea creatures, there’s something fun about contrasting that with the familiar, forcing one to wonder why anyone would want to be that way. It’s boring. As Alberto would say, it’s important sometimes to tell your voice of doubt “Silencio Bruno!” There is catharsis in following your dream. Few films have felt as alive and aspirational from the larger Pixar canon than this. It’s about more than winning a Vespa. It’s about winning pride in yourself.
4. Titane (Dir. Julia Ducournau)
It is rare that the term “most shocking movie of the year” and “Palme d’Or winner” can be used in the same marketing campaign. However, Ducournau has found a way with her latest to deliver one of the most astounding accomplishments in eons. It’s the type of story that consistently reinvents itself, pushing the characters further into its violent gender-fluid kaleidoscope fable that may not make total sense, but accomplishes alarming heights at rates few would think to consider. This is the work of a future auteur, someone who is uncompromising in a vision, willing to try anything in the hopes that it will fulfill the most provocative, confrontational version of the story imaginable.
Even if the story is so evocative that every moment packs immediacy, it’s best to go in with as little knowledge as possible. Those thinking that an early erotic scene involving cars is too wild of an idea, stick around. There’s SO MUCH more to come, and it’s only helped by the presence of Agathe Rousselle. She performs with such confidence that every gut-wrenching moment brings a physicality worthy of Oscars. She embodies so much pain at times that it even works into the viewer subliminally, making it almost transcendent. The viewer will become one with the film, seeing a potential for the art form in a variety of ways. While not everyone will be able to enjoy Ducournau’s vision, it’s difficult to not appreciate how original the film is, mixing aggression and allegory into something new and exciting.
3. Shiva Baby (Dir. Emma Seligman)
Not every haunted house drama needs to be supernatural. In the case of Seligman’s tense comedy, all it takes is someone dying to sit shiva for. Who is this person and why do they matter to Danielle (Rachel Sennott)? It’s more of a family friend, and it only seems polite to put in a few hours and get it over with. Even then, there’s the nebbish undertone of every conversation, of a young woman who has failed to be the success story she dreams of. To those around her, she is a disappointment, someone gaining weight, hooking up with women in the back room, or even running into her sugar daddy at awkward times. Like the best of horror movies, the whole goal of this 77-minute running time is to just get out, to return to a world that doesn’t feel like it’s constantly tearing apart her dignity.
The comedy may be driven by discomfort, but it’s also one of the most compelling character studies of the year. What exactly should we expect from this generation, the future leaders, who have been put into compromised positions and being judged for every risk and failure? The film balances the chaos with a deeply earnest performance by Sennott that draws a fine line between sympathy and a complete joke. She embodies something eternal to her generation while Seligman comments on her relation to the larger Jewish tradition, itself full of bizarre eccentricities that make for maddening comedy. It’s a story that’s in and out before it has time to outstay its welcome, and it’s great to have a film that feels so real, making one want solace. It’s a character study, a reflection of generational conflict, and how society judges women by their level of success. When you fail at one thing, you’re sure to hear about it for the rest of your life. Be careful out there.
2. Come From Away (Dir. Christopher Ashley)
It has been 20 years since 9/11 changed the way that America saw the world. The subsequent two decades brought with it lots of uncertainty, citizens turning on each other and questioning what was real. The art that came out of this perfectly reflects the divide, often ending with somber realizations. While these perspectives are important, there is something to be said about stories of hope, of finding a reason to come together and find hospitality in your common man. This professionally shot version of the Broadway sensation came at an invaluable time (a few days shy of the big anniversary) and introduced it to a wider audience. With swift camera work, Ashley forever cements one of the most essential musicals of the 21st century that seeks to remind audiences that, yes, the world is capable of coming together in times of crisis.
With a dozen or so actors, a cast of thousands is brought to life with vibrant humor and emotion, juggling between the highs and lows of a chaotic time. The opening number alone is a whirlwind that manages to introduce central characters one minute before dragging the melody to a halt, the harmonies becoming haunting as they sing “You are here at the start of a moment.” For the next 100 minutes, it’s going to be an experience like no other. The small island of Newfoundland, Canada is about to be changed forever as flights are diverted to their humble abode. It may sound like a busy, daunting mess but what ends up happening instead is one of the most universally compassionate tales of the modern age. It’s a reminder that even in tragedy there are those willing to make the world a better place. One just needs to look around for them.
1. Euphoria: Fuck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob (Dir. Sam Levinson)
“I don’t know. Uh… I’ve always thought of puberty as, like, a broadening, or a deepening, or like, a, a thickening. Which I, I think is, like, why I was always so scared of it, you know? Cause in my head, women were always, like, small and thin and delicate, and… You know, so like, the thought of puberty, like this… irreversible, forever fucking metamorphosis was just, like, fucking terrifying. And, you know, that, like, when it happened, I’d just, like, end up on the other side. Like, stuck. Or even worse, just, like, a man. Like, like, through and through. And then femininity would always be this just, like, this, like elusive, distant thing, you know? Like, unreachable. But, uh, but then, I think about beautiful things that are also broad and deep, and thick, and I think of… something like the ocean.
“I think, like… that I want to be as beautiful as the ocean. Cause the ocean’s strong as fuck. And feminine as fuck. And, like, both are what makes the ocean, the ocean. My grandmother used to live by the ocean. And, uh, when we’d go visit, we’d go down to the beach. And, uh, I’d close my eyes… And I’d just swim, and swim. And it didn’t matter, like, where I was going, or what could happen. Sometimes I’d pray to the ocean. At least for me, being trans is spiritual. You know, it’s not religious. It’s not, like, for some congregation. It’s for me. It’s mine. It belongs to me. And I don’t ever want to stand still. Like, I want to be alive. I mean, that’s what this has always been about, is, like… staying alive.”
My favorite piece of media since Carol (2015). In a year that was very difficult for me personally, having this made the darker days easier. Meditative, beautiful, horrifying. It captures the experience of feeling alone in the digital age, losing a sense of self as reality crumbles and you have no choice but to question your identity. From a therapist’s office, Hunter Schafer gives a searing performance, capturing the weight of slow revelations with small facial tics. In a year where everyone is recovering from the trauma of 2020, few pieces of media capture the struggle with as much sincerity and vulnerability. Is there a way to see past our own fears, live a life free of our past trauma, and know what it means to experience love as something normal? In under an hour, Schafer has written a powerful deconstruction of this idea and one that continues to sting. It’s a masterpiece, a definitive example of what Euphoria could be beyond shock value. Only time will tell if this is a sign of better things to come or the epitome of what could’ve been. I’m hoping more for the former.
Coming January 2022: My Top 25 Discoveries of 2021
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