1.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire
A mesmerizing tour de force, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a masterpiece of filmmaking and unquestionably one of my favorite films from the last decade. There is a quiet passion simmering throughout that is delicately woven into every aspect of the film. From its beautiful writing to the extraordinary acting between the two leads to the prevalence of eye contact and fleeting gestures of touch, all of which combine to accentuate the achingly beautiful evolution of Heloise and Marianne's romance. Noemie Merlant and Adele Haenel are perfectly cast, both of them delivering tremendous performances that add so much meaningful texture to the tale of their love. The storytelling is elegant and poetic and vibrant, every stolen glance and deeply felt emotion a subtle thread within a tapestry that builds gracefully to a sublimely wrought and awe-inspiring ending; an ending that displays a directorial confidence that is remarkable. Celine Sciamma is an exceedingly skilled director and writer, her best and most stirring qualities seemingly heightened by the transition to a period piece. Her dialogue is especially noteworthy, balancing naturalism with memorable literary flourishes. There are a plethora of other, yet no less essential, elements within the production. For one, the setting is used brilliantly throughout, from the golden sands of the beach to the dazzling azure of the sea to the darker hues of the austere manor they reside in. The cinematography is lush and striking, evoking a painting within every frame. The near absence of music within the film is a particularly clever directorial touch. To this point, the dramatic flourishes that occur, rare as they are, are typically accompanied by the very few musical cues that do exist, which elevates those moments enormously. This is cinema at its most intimate and spellbinding.
2.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
Buoyed by exquisite storytelling, endearingly written characters, and some finely tuned comedy, Once Upon in Time in Hollywood is Tarantino's most earnest and sentimental film since the brilliant Jackie Brown. In a career marked by a ceaseless succession of wickedly entertaining films, it's also one of his best. The lack of a more substantive narrative in favor of somewhat disconnected vignettes was cleverly handled, as it allowed for 1969 Los Angeles to be savored to its fullest extent. The film, as a result, at least prior to the blood-drenched climax, unfurls at a leisurely pace that emphasized the magical nature of the time and place it so affectionately recalls. The meticulous recreation of Los Angeles at such a transformative time in its history greatly heightened the effectiveness of the dichotomy between fantasy and reality. Ultimately, the level of detail woven into every aspect of the production is perhaps the strongest aspect of the film, vital as it is to the tale being told. The film is peppered with memorable moments and beautifully written interactions. One of the best and most evocative sequences this year lies in the transition into the final act; a wistful glimpse of relatively burden-free lives as the primary characters' inexorable ends are seemingly right around the corner. The usage of California Dreamin' in this scene is among my favorite of all the sublime musical selections Tarantino has sprinkled throughout his oeuvre. Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt are both brilliant. DiCaprio, for his part, gives one of the best performances of his career, flitting between exceptional comedic timing, understated emotional vulnerability and a scene or two of stellar dramatic acting. Complemented by Pitt's portrayal of the effortlessly cool, their friendship is one of the highlights of the film. Though already of considerable length, I could have easily spent many hours more watching the lives of these characters simply existing. What an achievement.
3.
Parasite
A social satire of dizzying ambition and ingeniously operatic storytelling, Parasite is a bravura piece of filmmaking craftsmanship. Bong Joon-ho's direction is exceptional throughout, every frame meticulously constructed and artfully told. This is aided by some exquisite set design and sharp editing, all of which are played to their fullest strengths in the increasingly tense latter half. Moreover, Bong Joon-Ho is an expert at weaving disparate tones into a singularly unique whole and Parasite is an absolute masterclass in this regard. A symphony of gripping dramatic flourishes are cleverly woven into the fabric of the story, each twist revealing greater depth in a labyrinth of thematically rich storytelling that culminates with an explosive and remarkably poignant finale. The social commentary, though fairly familiar, was appropriately scathing in its exploration of classism. The entire cast enlivens the film with exceedingly engaging performances. So-dam Park, Woo-sik Choi, Hye-jin Jang, and Kang-ho Song are especially worthy of recognition, as they're all fantastic and integral to the effectiveness of the film. While Memories of Murder remains Bong Joon-ho's magnum opus, Parasite is a bold, beguiling, and masterfully crafted film that I can't wait to revisit again and again.
4.
Little Women
Little Women is a marvel of confident storytelling and organic sentiment, intelligently empowering a set of wonderfully engaging characters through a lens of subtly applied modernity. Having already been thoroughly impressed with Greta Gerwig's excellent directorial debut in Lady Bird, her work here has notably matured, this oft-adapted classic filmed more expertly and intelligently than one could have hoped for. Among an ensemble of terrific performances, Saoirse Ronan, Timothee Chalamet, and Florence Pugh are the definite standouts, each imbuing in their character arcs a dynamism and electricity that benefits the story immensely. The cinematography is lush and striking, elevated by phenomenal production qualities and a rather magical score from Alexandre Desplat. Due to these various elements, there is a warmth that permeates the entire film, creating an atmosphere that's beautiful and pleasant and difficult to forget. With the inclusion of several clever alterations to the narrative and an emotional heft that is perfectly handled, this is, without question, the definitive adaptation of Little Women.
5.
The Lighthouse
Boasting stellar acting, a psychological terror that continuously confounds, a surprising amount of excellent comedy, and a fairly effective undercurrent of homoeroticism, The Lighthouse is a feverish descent into madness directed with an expressionistic approach that is wildly inventive. Furthermore, it is an audiovisual masterwork; a manic pastiche of boldly crafted elements, from the stunning photography to the claustrophobic setting to the lighthouse siren that serves as an ever-present reminder of their frightening solitude, all of which coalesce into an unforgettable tapestry. Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson deliver outstanding performances, both of them reveling in the delectable dialogue and tempestuous theatricality that permeates the story. Dafoe's performance is perhaps my favorite since Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood and Pattinson's isn't far behind, further evidence that he's an exceptional young actor. Following the brilliance of The Witch, Robert Eggers' sophomore effort resoundingly demonstrates that he is one of the best and most promising young directors. Eggers is able to deftly capture an aura of mythic otherworldliness that elevates the storytelling immeasurably. His ability to construct a wondrously cinematic language and rhythm out of rather archaic dialogue is seemingly boundless. The Witch displayed this somewhat unique attention to historical detail to fairly superb effect and The Lighthouse manages to impress to an even greater extent. Jarin Blaschke's cinematography is magnificent, the perfectly framed and stunningly lit black and white photography seemingly creating an artistic triumph in every frame. In short, The Lighthouse is one of the most stylistically audacious works of the decade and is a riotous delight from start to finish, closing with an incredibly unsettling ending that features one of my favorite scenes of the year.
6.
The Irishman
As a likely coda to the brilliant careers of a legendary director and three sensational actors, The Irishman is an immensely rewarding and consistently enthralling epic. Despite its daunting runtime and fairly methodical pacing, there's very little in the way of excess or tedium. Much of the storytelling feels sharply honed and necessary, as conversations are relished to satisfying effect. Joe Pesci, Robert De Niro, and Al Pacino are superb in their roles, each of them elevating the material with powerful performances. The CG, though initially somewhat distracting, was largely well-implemented, especially due to how smartly it allowed the facial expressions, integral to the performances from the central trio, to shine through, rather than become dwarfed by a needless necessity to fully replicate their youthful appearances. As a result perhaps of Scorsese's age and a more ruminative eye, The Irishman feels less a bombastic ode to the gangster fare that catapulted him into such revered territory as a filmmaker and more of a contemplative examination and perhaps rebuke of the glorification that was so prevalent in them. To this end, there is a deliberate melancholy infused into the latter half of the film that is profoundly staged, as the lonely decay that occurs with age is deemed inevitable when participating in such a bleak and violent business. By excising the stylistic flourishes that had been so prevalent (enjoyably so) in Scorsese's past action sequences, the violence that occurs throughout The Irishman is unglamorous, brutal, and potent in its brevity. Sprawling in its ambitions and excelling with its thoughtful examination of the genre, The Irishman features some of Scorsese's finest work, his expansive skills so little diminished in the waning years of a tremendous career.
7.
A Hidden Life
While A Hidden Life doesn't quite reach the heights of Malick's numerous masterpieces, it is a beautifully contemplative and gorgeously directed work, deeply etched with his particular brand of idiosyncratic stylism. Though I'm not at all dismissive of and have still rather enjoyed Malick's recent abandonment of narrative structure, the return of more substantive storytelling is a welcome and immensely beneficial one. The simple existence of a narrative and thematic through line allows for Malick's best directorial sensibilities to be accentuated devoid of the failings that can result from his worst excesses. Franz's story is an exceedingly poignant and occasionally maddening one, aided by some exemplary acting from August Diehl. The spirituality that courses through the film never feels excessive or trite in its overtures, opting instead to underscore the occasional need for sacrifice in the midst of great evils, woefully under-appreciated and futile though that sacrifice might be. Malick's ethereal approach to filmmaking, filled as it is with sublime visuals, meditative storytelling, and the subtly felt minutiae of time is, even at its most indulgent, a wonder to experience. Doubly so when, as is the case here, his ambition is accorded the storytelling bravado it so deserves.
8.
Deadwood: The Movie
After years of uncertainty, Deadwood returned with a filmic coda that surpassed every expectation I had of it, providing the ending that this series and its characters had long-deserved. Deadwood was remarkable television, filled with an ambition and uniqueness in its storytelling and character work that isn't easily replicated. As such, a film created more than a decade after its premature demise wasn't at all certain to satisfy. However, every concern I had of it was resoundingly dispelled. Though I was rather fond of the third season and thought it an admirable conclusion to the series, the movie made for a considerably stronger ending. Its emotional resonance and focus on narrative payoff was especially rewarding, flittering as it does between a myriad of dramatically and emotionally profound scenes. Nearly every character and dynamic of significance is afforded some manner of culmination to their journeys, often poignantly so. More than anything perhaps, this film serves to emphasize, once again, how exceptionally drawn Al Swearengen and Seth Bullock are as characters; two of the best to ever grace the television screen. While I always loved Timothy Olyphant as Bullock, the years have instilled in him a more confident command of the frayed energy inherent to his character, which noticeably benefited his portrayal. The entire cast, in fact, stepped back into their roles quite gracefully, losing very little of all that made them so brilliant to watch. David Milch's writing, perhaps the most notable aspect of the series, continues to be as wonderfully idiosyncratic and poetically verbose as it ever was, returning with ease to the same beautifully vulgar rhythm that had been delivered with such zeal by all involved long ago. The final bit of dialogue, in particular, was an elegiac note played to perfection and, seeing it now, I couldn't have imagined it ending any other way.
9.
Marriage Story
Devastating in its honest characterization of a failed marriage, I was highly impressed by how thoughtfully executed this was. Noah Baumbach is at his most refined as a storyteller here, as he engagingly weaves organically crafted drama through insightful character work. The flaws in Charlie and Nicole's marriage are unfurled with a restraint that is highly effective, as the discord that envelops them culminates with a blistering crescendo that was powerfully rendered. The denouement that follows, with equally affecting results, displays a mixture of heartbreak and a whisper of healing that is immensely cathartic. Even at its most dramatic, the emotional complexity never feels overwrought. Despite a slightly unfortunate inclination towards Charlie's perspective in the latter half, I appreciated how balanced this depiction of marital strife was. Their fractured perspectives are both lent considerable weight, each of them possessing flaws and virtues that engender sympathy and understanding. Complemented by strong performances from Laura Dern and Alan Alda, Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver deliver two of the best performances of the year, as well as their careers, conveying the pain they're both enduring with a naturalism that was thoroughly compelling. Adam Driver, in particular, is astonishing here. From his incredible post-argument breakdown to the extreme vulnerability exhibited in his beautiful rendition of Being Alive. He's unquestionably one of the best actors working today.
10.
Transit
Engrossing with its surreality and uniquely timeless world, Transit is, similar to Phoenix, a rich character piece that leaves one unmoored by its end. Literary in its sensibilities, the storytelling is beguiling and complex, exploring the displacement of refugees with a keen understanding of the tense desperation such circumstances can entail. This displacement is smartly woven into every aspect of the film, from its sense of time to its mysterious setting and the characters that inhabit it. The atmosphere that this dreamlike manner of storytelling creates is endlessly charming and quietly unsettling. Christian Petzold is such a compelling director, as he instills his films (at least the three I've seen) with a dramatic nuance and storytelling audacity that is enormously intriguing. Franz Rogowski is enthralling in the lead role, anchoring the film amidst the unreal environment that threatens to swallow him whole.
Honorable Mentions:
11.
Monos
12.
1917
13.
Ad Astra
14.
Birds of Passage
15.
Apollo 11
16.
The Farewell
17.
Toy Story 4
18.
High Life
19.
Pain and Glory
20.
The King
21.
Knives Out
22.
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
23.
Rocketman
24.
Klaus
25.
JoJo Rabbit
2019 was an amazing year for cinema, boasting several masterpieces and a plethora of highly noteworthy films. As always, there are quite a few notable movies I've yet to watch, such as Uncut Gems, Atlantics, Long Day's Journey Into Night, An Elephant Sitting Still, I Lost My Body, Dolemite is My Name, and The Two Popes, among others. I wanted to include some of my thoughts on my honorable mentions, but wasn't able to due to a lack of time. Given the deadline extension, I might if the opportunity arises.