In Reel Deep may lie mostly dormant, but our annual Best of the Year list is very much alive. This marks a whole decade of the two of us doing this. It feels fitting that we’ve made it to 10 years of list-making in a year where, well, things kind of went back to normal.
Perhaps that sense of normalcy - of big-budget blockbusters raking in nine figures over months-long runs at the box office - is why we don’t have too much in common this year. We’ve got 18 of the year’s best for you, only two of which overlap.
On to the list, and here’s to the next 10 years.
The Top Two
Decision to Leave
Andrew Johnson: The legacy of Hitchcock is alive and well in Korea, and Park Chan-wook is a big reason why. It was hard not to think of, at once, Vertigo and In the Mood for Love as this story unfolded. What kind of story are we willing to tell ourselves in the name of love? Quite a yarn, as it turns out.
Steve Cimino: Park Chan-wook is mostly known as the provocative filmmaker behind the wild Oldboy and the erotic The Handmaiden, so it may be shocking to watch Decision to Leave and find out that it’s a relatively standard cop thriller. There are no hallway fight scenes nor any explicit lesbian sex. What makes it so exciting is the feeling that Park is, to a certain extent, censoring himself, or at least holding back his deeper impulses.
So when Park Hae-il’s detective character is quietly obsessing over Tang Wei’s femme fatale, it’s not a stretch to imagine the writer-director doing the same. What we end up with is a South Korean noir with notable, tangible restraint, one almost bursting at the seams with unrequited passion and desperation. Tang Wei, in particular, brings real depth to the type of character that is usually by-the-book and thankless; when a movie cop loves a woman he can’t or shouldn’t have, that’s usually a sign that she’ll look sultry and seductive and probably commit a crime or two along the way. But director Park subverts expectations just enough so that, even if you’re not left guessing at the end, you’ll be thrilled at the route you took to get there.
Tár
AJ: Cate Blanchett delivered one of the best individual performances I have seen in a very, very, very long time. As with anything that edges out of the film discourse and in to the more general discourse, this film has been mischaracterized and oversimplified. It’s not about cancel culture at all. It’s about ego and delusion. Does Lydia Tár need to be the way she is to rise to her station? This is the question Blanchett and director Todd Field leave you with, and like any great film it doesn’t posit a true answer.
SC: It’s quite reductive to label this “the cancel culture movie.” For starters, it’s incredibly funny; I had trouble getting on its wavelength during my first viewing, because writer-director Todd Field doesn’t slow down or help you out. He weaves a narrative around Cate Blanchett’s Lydia Tár and her choices big and small; her indiscretions are sometimes so blatant that you have to laugh. Somehow, possibly because she’s the most brilliant actress alive, Blanchett gives Tár a tone and an aura where she’s clearly the most confident and brilliant person in the room, even as she’s shoveling bullshit or pushing boundaries that we know will doom her.
It’s an incredible depiction of the trappings of hype, of what it must feel like to have the world in the palm of your hand and yet be unable and unwilling to stop pushing the envelope. It’s most striking when Lydia starts spiraling, of course, but Blanchett gives us glimpses of the unraveling well in advance. And Field—who acted in Eyes Wide Shut and is a noted Kubrick devotee—maintains the mystery by locking us to Lydia’s perspective. We see what she sees, so we don’t know how bad it’s gotten until it’s staring us in the face. It makes the meltdown that much more unexpected and enjoyable.
The Best of the Rest
All the Beauty and the Bloodshed
SC: The best documentary of 2022 and one of the year’s darker films, though not without its own unique strength and optimism. Directed by Laura Poitras, the filmmaker behind Citizenfour, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed takes us through the life and times of Nan Goldin, an acclaimed artist who has led a very public campaign against the Sackler family and Purdue Pharma to highlight their role in kick-starting and perpetuating the opioid epidemic. Goldin was an addict herself, with a tumultuous upbringing, and her relentless quest to remove the Sackler name from various museum wings and disrupt their rampant reputation-washing is an exercise in courage.
Poitras does an exquisite job of bouncing between Goldin’s past and her present-day activism, highlighting why she feels this deep commitment to forcing the Sacklers to pay for their crimes, or at the very least own up to them. Most impressively, there’s a sense of “why don’t we all feel this way” that pervades the entire movie; maybe we don’t all have the stature, the background, or the fortitude of Goldin, but we should still be just as furious.
Avatar: Way of Water
SC: It’s been said a million times since December 2022, but you don’t count out Big Jim Cameron. I’ve been a moderate Avatar defender for a while now: Probably the best 3D movie ever, a spectacle worthy of the hype, perhaps a little light on substance. And I won’t pretend like The Way of Water figures the last part out; there are still plenty of undeveloped characters, not to mention valid questions about representation. But this film is such a powerhouse on the big screen; the world that Cameron builds remains large, lush, and inescapably interesting. Curiously enough, it’s not the Na’vi that most audiences are remembering but the tulkun, the big telepathic whales who befriend members of the new water tribe.
That’s typically how it goes in a Cameron, with the T-800 and Jack and Rose from Titanic as exceptions. More often than not, it’s about the environment, the look and feel, the exquisite setpieces, not the well-drawn characters. As discussed with other movies in this year’s top 10, maybe that’s why his films are insanely popular but somewhat forgettable; we love the big moments in theaters but they don’t seem to stick when we leave. Regardless, even though the haters will forever yell things like “Oh, you like Avatar?! What’s the main character’s name?”, this is a film and a series worthy of the enthusiasm and the massive box office.
The Banshees of Inisherin
AJ: It’s still just my second favorite collaboration between Martin McDonagh, Brendon Gleeson, and Colin Farrell, but what a collaboration it is. The bleak, wicked humor at the core of the setup feels like a homecoming of sorts when you put it on early 20th century Irish shores and pair Gleeson and Farrell together. The fun of the film - yes, I found it fun - is spending most of the film trying to figure out who the asshole is, when the correct answer all along was everyone except Kerry Condon.
Crimes of the Future
AJ: For perhaps obvious reasons, this was the most visceral moviegoing experience of the year for me. There is, for sure, a parable about policing bodies just under the surface here, but, honestly, I was too absorbed by David Cronenberg’s superficial premise to bear it much mind initially. Crimes of the Future advances the bold claim that, in the near future, surgery will be the new sex, and damn if I didn’t find myself almost believing it by the end.
Elvis
SC: I can barely put into words how much I love Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis. I’m not even a huge Baz fan; Moulin Rouge is good, Romeo + Juliet is fine. But something about Elvis fully won me over from second one. It’s kinetic; it’s wild; it plays fast and loose with Presley’s life, turning ‘important’ situations into absurd melodramas that are entertaining and well-intentioned enough to work. Austin Butler’s performance as The King deserves all the praise it’s received; Tom Hanks playing Col. Parker as a combination of Fat Bastard and Goldmember is a blast, though I can see how some people can’t see past the voice and makeup.
In fact, I can see how some people can’t see past the shiny, somewhat silly veneer of the entire movie. If that’s your hangup, I beg you to give it one more try, hopefully with a nonjudgmental eye. Go on this ride with Baz and embrace Elvis’s legend; he’s not trying to capture the man, only the spirit and the energy that surrounded him, and I think he succeeded with loud, vibrant panache.
Kimi
AJ: Steven Soderbergh feels impossible to appreciate because he is so prolific. He’s already on to the latest chapter in the Magic Mike saga (speaking of things that feel impossible to properly appreciate!), and so you might have missed this one from early 2022. Go back and find it. Enjoy Zoe Kravitz and the obvious Rear Window undertones, but also think of how it ties together that influence with the paranoia vibe of Alan J. Pakula’s thrillers from the early 1970s.
Marcel the Shell With Shoes on
AJ: Sure, this quiet, unassuming picture is about grief and community, and you can show it to anyone, even young kids like mine. But what I most loved about it was its sense of perspective in a world filled with distraction. There’s a telling moment where Dean shows Marcel that he’s going “viral” and he remains fixated on finding his family. Marcel is cute as all get-out, but that little guy is determined as hell when it comes to the things that are most important. What a lesson that is.
Nope
AJ: Jordan Peele has a real track record at this point, and, as a viewer, it’s one I have come to love. If you can go in to one of his films spoiler-free, the experience you’ll enjoy is one of controlled bewilderment - things seem normal just all a bit off - and then you’ll get a methodical, well-foreshadowed set of reveals that make the whole ride a lot of fun. Nope fits perfectly in that pattern.
Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio
SC: Film buffs who are also masochists will recall that there were two Pinocchio movies released in 2022; this mini-masterpiece from the Oscar-winning GDT, as well as a Robert Zemeckis-helmed “live-action” Disney remake that should burn in a fire. If anything, GDT’s adaptation reinforces what an absolute mess the Disney one turned out to be; this particular brand of quirky stop-motion animated film may not be for everyone, but it takes a few delightful chances and feels far more honest to the odder elements of the Pinocchio story.
Disney has a way of sanding down the edges, if only because its versions of these stories have been around for so long. But “old man builds wooden boy who comes to life” is an objectively insane concept, and so including immortality and Mussolini and boot camp feels organic and refreshing, especially when paired with the jerky unpredictability of stop-motion. All the voice actors are more than game; Ewan McGregor is really fun as the weary Sebastian J. Cricket, and Gregory Mann is exuberantly unhinged as Pinocchio. Not every stop-motion movie has to be weird and dark, of course, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.
RRR
SC: What else can be said about RRR? In a year where the Marvel machine finally stumbled, S. S. Rajamouli (and Big Jim, and Tom Cruise + Joseph Kosinksi) reminded us what blockbusters can be. I was lucky enough to see RRR in theaters after my brother raved about it; it was me and maybe one other guy, and I’d snuck in two backpack beers to make it through the 187-minute running time. To be honest, I can’t even remember drinking them; I could barely handle Ram (Ram Charan) leaping into a rioting crowd to retrieve a rock-throwing suspect, and then Bheem (N. T. Rama Rao Jr.) outdueling a CGI tiger, and then the two joining forces to save a young boy with only a horse, a motorcycle, and a flag between them. And then the “Dosti” montage! And then the “Naatu Naatu” dance! And we’re still only about 90 minutes in.
I’ve watched this a half-dozen times since on Netflix, and there’s always something new to enjoy. It’s an epic that sings as a whole but can be easily enjoyed by those who’d prefer to go scene by scene and rewatch their favorite parts. Rajamouli and his cast understand that all the effects and setpieces in the world don’t work without characters and emotions and fun; more than anything, RRR is fun. Please, Hollywood, take copious notes.
This Much I know to Be True
SC: You probably haven’t seen this Nick Cave concert film, currently streaming on Mubi. But I found it to be perhaps the most poignant and emotional of the “COVID movies,” shorthand for anything filmed during or largely affected by the pandemic. Director Andrew Dominik (who you may know from the brilliant The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, or for getting raked over the coals for Netflix’s Blonde) swirls his cameras around a compact performing space to shoot intimate footage of Cave, frequent collaborator Warren Ellis, and a handful of musicians as they perform some of Cave’s new material. It’s intercut with Cave’s musings about the world around us, made even more powerful due to the recent deaths of his sons. He’s not always talking about COVID isolation specifically, or even depression and loss as recognizable feelings, but he is trying to illuminate how art and creation have helped him through some truly dark periods. Whether you love Cave’s work or are just looking for an introspective concert film, this is well worth your time.
Three Thousand Years of Longing
AJ: I know this is based off a short story, but for people my age it’s more like a grown-up version of the dilemma first introduced to me by Aladdin. What should you do with that third wish? How do you balance your own desire with what is just and right. It’s a silly idea, I guess, but it’s very much in the right hands with George Miller directing and Tilda Swinton and Idris Elba giving it an exquisite vibe. It’s about storytelling and the real peril of absolute power, and it’s just a wonderful picture.
Top Gun: Maverick
SC: Tom Cruise is a fascinating Hollywood creature, for his choices as much as his performances. There’s his surprisingly unpredictable early period (Top Gun 1, The Color of Money, Rain Man, Born on the Fourth of July). There’s the “giving himself over to auteurs” period (Jerry Maguire, Eyes Wide Shut, Magnolia). There’s the misguided, stinky period (Knight and Day, The Mummy, American Made). And there’s now, where he keeps risking his life for our love.
He seems to be committed to Mission: Impossible and Top Gun only, which is alright by me; we want quality, not variety. And Maverick is a film of the highest quality; it’s the rare legacy sequel that deserves to be made, a movie that marinated until it was really and truly needed. Cruise finally has an age-appropriate love interest, and Jennifer Connelly shines in the role; he somehow chilled Miles Teller out for a few months (watch The Offer if you want to see unbridled Teller, presumably his preferred state). The stunts are incredible; as with RRR, they’re earned because we care about the characters involved. Tom Cruise did his part to help save the movies, and we thank him for his service.
Triangle of Sadness
AJ: OK, so Ruben Ostlund isn’t subtle. He does have a gift for the wonderfully uncomfortable premise and a penchant for perhaps belaboring his point. Triangle of Sadness fits in perfectly with Force Majeure and The Square. But, you know, for me, if you do all that stuff with enough glee, the belabored message can not be much of a bother at all. So it is here. I won’t soon forget a Russian oligarch and a Marxist luxury yacht captain debating the relative merits of styles of governance while a bunch of rich people vomit and shit all over each other. In fact, I can’t think of a better metaphor for what passes as serious intellectual debate these days.
Women Talking
SC: I’m a sucker for filmed stage productions, an ironic interest given that I’ve been to the actual theatre only 6 or 7 times in my life. And though Women Talking is not a play, it easily could be; writer-director Sarah Polley places her titular women in an old barn for most of the running time to discuss their fates and futures.
This was one of the more disorienting filmgoing experiences I had in 2022, in the best way; Polley drops you in the middle of what seems to be a religious colony, with no idea what year it is and a vague (but growing) sense of the horrors being inflicted upon these women. As Jessie Buckley, Claire Foy, Rooney Mara, Judith Ivey, and the others assess their options—as women, humans, children of God—I was captivated by not only their performances but the timelessness of their conversations. For too long, women sharing thoughts like these has been a subversive act. Polley capturing it on film, and with such a stellar cast, further solidifies it as a reality and a necessity.
The WoMan King
AJ: Remember when they made blockbuster action films for adults? Here’s a terrific reminder of what that was like to make you pine for the days when there were 10 or 20 films like this every year. Here also is proof that we can add bona fide action star to the list of Viola Davis’ many considerable talents. She is absolutely wonderful here. The secondary love story is a bit of a miss, but Davis’ performance and the action sequences that are actually possible to follow, devoid of CGI, and chock full of very human stakes, make this one to treasure.