Film Essay: Top Ten 2021 — The Gourmand Film Writer

When COVID locked down the country, I remember reading an article on Forbes about the most likely businesses to permanently shutter. At the top of the list were movie theaters. Theaters have long suffered from a changing digital landscape. Streaming has made access to films much more convenient and so they have resorted to “luxuries” trying to lure people back to the theaters. Some gimmicks include movie passes, or serving alcohol, or serving food, reclining chairs, 3-D, I-MAX, anything to grab the audience’s attention. At the same time, the rising prices of tickets, while attempting to help pay for some of the luxuries to lure in audiences back, conflict with larger audience attendance. I thought Forbes was right. Talking to several of my friends who own theaters, indeed, it continues to look bleak, especially for theaters which reserve screens for smaller performing films rather than filling every screen with the latest Marvel movie.

The thought of movie theaters disappearing was sad, but more than that, it is worrisome. Our society has always valued the idea of the individual, but it seems that people’s attitude is “anything I want and screw society.” So many people argue in favor of not wearing masks, a minor inconvenience because of the impingement on their individual right, rather than realizing that caring for the common good is the duty of everyone. Movie theaters are places where people come together. It’s one of the few spaces out there that draws in diverse ideological audiences. Watching a movie has been related to a religious experience by some artists and critics like Martin Scorsese. Like a Church service, the experience in a theater is both a personal one and a communal one. The audiences’ response to the film enhances and elevates it. It makes you realize or feel emotions you might not at home. A comedy watched alone can be a dull experience, watching it in a theater where a single laugh can set off a serious of laughs until the entire audience is rolling with laughter. This year hearing laughter during The French Dispatch made Wes Anderson’s films one of the great comedies I’ve seen in years.

This year was an exceptional year for cinema, not only because we returned to the theaters, but also because of the quality of movies was just astonishing. From old masters continuing their incredible careers like Pedro Almodavor, whose melodramatic flair and style has taken a turn for the serious in his last two films, to the return of the master, Jane Campion, after almost a decade absence from cinema, to Joel Coen having his first outing without his brother in decades, making the somehow incredibly personal Tragedy of Macbeth, to both Andersons (Wes and PT) putting out incredible films. Then there were new directors: Rebecca Hall turned in performing for directing in the elegant and poignant, Passing; Maggie Gyllenhaal also turned director with one of the best pieces to showcase a woman’s performance in The Lost Daughter; Sian Heder, following up a great career as a writer, directed CODA which on paper reads like a Hallmark movie but in reality functions as one of the best family dramas of the year; Jeymes Samuels created one of the best American westerns of the past decade in The Harder They Fall, also with an all-Black leading cast. Then, the ten pole blockbuster films were also worth seeing: Dune impressed with it’s visionary use of scale, Shang-Chi brought stylized choreography for fighting to the MCU, even Spider-Man: No Way Home impressed with it’s balancing act of so many elements to deliver a surprisingly emotional film, even if the individual moments in the film feel recycled. Then, there were some films that dealt with living in a COVID world. The two best are two of my choices for the best films: Pig and my pick for the tenth best film of the year:

10. Bo Burnham: Inside ****

Being stuck in isolation or your bubble during COVID, everyone wanted, hell, everyone needed distraction. Hearing that Bo Burnham had a new comedy special coming out was exciting; something to make us all laugh. We wanted and expected a traditional comedy routine. What we got was something very different, deeper, not really funny, and most importantly, cathartic. Is this a movie? I don’t know, but I do know it is one of the most meaningful viewing experiences I had last year.

This was the first piece of art I saw to actually tackle the trauma of living in a COVID world. The title, Inside, refers to Bo being stuck inside, having to produce this special, write, direct, light, edit, etc, all on his own. He is trapped as we are all trapped. But, our individual isolation reminded many of us of another way we are trapped: trapped in our own mind. This piece not only traps Bo in a room, but it places us inside his subconscious. The lighting often reflects what is going on inside his mind, not necessarily in reality. When he crawls onto his folding bed, we understand the blue lighting represents his depression. We come to understand the seemingly improvised comedy songs and routines as expressions from his mind trying to deal with the overwhelming emotions that come from having your world taken away from you. This is Bo Burnham at his most personal, his most deep, and his most important.

9. Parallel Mothers ****

I remember the first Pedro Almadovar movie I saw in theaters: All About My Mother (1999) [also made my top ten list that year]. There was a vibrancy to the film, to the characters, and, perhaps most characteristic of an Almodovar film, their emotions. His characters really do hang their existence on single decisions. His characters are passionate, feel deeply and intimately every moment in their lives. That vibrancy has never wavered in his films. But his past two works, Pain and Glory (2020) [also made my top ten] and this year’s Parallel Mothers, feel more serious.

Pain and Glory was personal, a semi-autobiographical story, about a film director who has lost his fame, reconnecting with an actor from a previous work with him. The director has been and still is in love with his former actor. The work reunited Almodovar with one of his recurring lead actors Antonio Banderas, who turned in the performance of his career. Parallel Mothers is more melodramatic than Pain and Glory, but it too is serious, tackling a subject that has shaped Spain, which Almodovar has never touched: the Spanish Civil War. Here too, Almodovar has created a vehicle for one of his greatest muses, Penelope Cruz, who shines as one of the two mothers in the film. Cruz plays Janis who is in her 40s and pregnant from a fling with a married man. The man is a forensic anthropologist who is unearthing a mass grave from the Spanish Civil War, which may contain Janis’ great grandfather. Janis gives birth almost at the same time as a teenager, Ana (a great Milena Smit). Ana’s pregnancy is the result of rape; coerced sex after threatening to release nude photos of her. I am not sure the film ever calls it rape, but it is as Ana felt she had no choice. Ana is not prepared for motherhood, and although Janis says she is, she is not either. The two elevate each other as they navigate their changing worlds. How their pregnancies, giving birth, and raising their infants connect to the Spanish Civil War comes together in the theme of how strong women do whatever they have to so that their family endures.

8. Passing ****

Passing, the novel that Nella Larsen published in 1929, is perhaps even more important now than it was when it was published. Systemic racism has long relegated the Black community, and makes it almost shameful to be Black. Is it a wonder that some Black people might try to pass for white? This was not an uncommon phenomenon, but the story of the psychological toll it must take is unimaginable. Or it was until Nella Larsen wrote her novel. Now, Rebecca Hall, in his first directorial role, has adapted the book with elegance and grace.

Tessa Thompson plays Irene whom we meet on the day that she has decided to pass as white going into a white department store. The acting is phenomenal. She is trying to walk with confidence like she belongs there (which, of course, morally, she does), but you sense her nervous edge. She’s performing. Then, there is the sense that she is also getting away with something; the thrill of beating the system. Someone asks her if she needs help. The panic returns. This is every day of life of Irene’s childhood friend, Clare, whom she runs into and discovers that she has passed for white for much of her life and married a racist white man.

The film is not only about the racist views of Black people, but as importantly, what happens when you remove a part of yourself. Clare has denied her own existence for years. She has lost a part of who is she. We see the danger in what she is doing, passing for someone who is not herself.

The decision to shoot the film in black and white is on the one hand clever, considering the subject matter. But, more importantly, it plays with the way people see the world as morally either right or wrong, but what happens when society deems you are wrong…

7. Pig ****

Similar to Bo Burnham: Inside, Pig deals with a post COVID reality, although in a fictional and allegorical manner instead of tackling it head on. Nicholas Cage is one of our greatest actors. Even he knows that he has taken projects that are jokes. I love that he is involved with The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent where he plays himself, willing to do anything to make a buck. A number of years ago, he starred in David Gordon Green’s Joe, which I thought was an underrated triumph. Here, he again brings himself, but a quieter, calmer version of his usual persona.

When you hear the premise for the story, a semi reclusive man tracks down the person who has stolen his prize truffle hunting pig to get revenge, starring Nicholas Cage as Rob, you immediately imagine a John Wick rip-off, but Pig couldn’t be farther from that concept.

The film begins with the theft of the pig and Rob’s search, which takes him to an underground fighting club. As I watched the film, I thought it was going the John Wick way and I was about to give up when, something special happens. When they discover who abducted the pig, Rob’s response is wonderful and completely unexpected. Rob isn’t going to fight him or even try to steal the pig back. In fact, what he does beautiful. It is a reminder of the life Rob had before he lost his wife and left his life behind to become a reclusive truffle hunter.

Pig is ultimately about what do we do when our entire world is taken away from us. It is the best film I’ve seen this year to deal with our world under threat of COVID and, perhaps most importantly, it is genuinely hopeful without being cliché or sentimental.

6. The French Dispatch ****

I am not sure how much farther Wes Anderson can push his style without becoming a parody of himself. I thought he pushed it too far in The Life Aquatic and it broke the film. That was one of his few films where I feel the style overwhelms everything instead of contributing to the story. With The French Dispatch, he goes further than he did in The Life Aquatic, and yet, it somehow works.

The structure of The French Dispatch is not that of a film. It is an issue of the New Yorker. The beginning of the film has a Jacque Tati opening where we are introduced to everyone mulling around town by following a very crash prone bicyclist. It very much is like the New Yorker’s “The Talk of the Town”. Then we see the editor of the fictional French Dispatch, played by Bill Murray, trying to put together the latest issue of the magazine, juggling famous writers and their stories.

Each “episode” in the film is one of the writer’s stories and the style of telling them changes with each one. The problem with “vignette” films is that there is always one story that is better than the other. Films like Magnolia or Short Cuts suffer somewhat from this as there is a story we want to go back to. Not to suggest that either of those films is not great, but even great “vignette” movies do not solve their inherent problem. Not so in The French Dispatch. Each story works perfectly. Anderson pulls off his crazy trick which should fall apart. At the end, I have to admit, it didn’t have the depth of some of his other films, but man… what a joyous and funny ride.

5. The Tragedy of Macbeth ****

Recently, I rewatched Kurosawa’s masterful adaptation of Macbeth, Throne of Blood, where he focuses on the binding nature of knowing the future, jettisoning many of the subplots to focus on the soul of someone exposed to their future unraveling. After seeing it, and reflecting on the last Macbeth adaptation starring Michael Fassbender, which I thought was a disappointment, I asked did I ever really need another Macbeth? We have two recorded play versions that are astounding: Ian McKellen and Judi Dench’s Royal Shakespeare Theatre version as well as Patrick Stewart’s. Then, I saw the preview for Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth and I said, “yes, I need another version of Macbeth.”

Joel has done something astonishing in his version of the famous Scottish play. He has made it into “the boomer version” of Macbeth and I mean that as a compliment. The decision to make both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth older changes the entire story. Gone is the idea of ambitious youth. Denzel plays Macbeth not as an energetic warrior, but rather, a drained fighter who has paid his dues and is ready to rest. Lady Macbeth is past childbearing age and now must deal with the “what ifs” of old age regret. Here, there is a melancholy to everything that happens. It is more about what could have been rather than trying to forge a new future. As a result, with every advancement of their power comes not victory but only a reminder of what this could have been in their past. With that in mind, the decision to shoot the film like a silent movie comes into focus. This film is not about the future, but about regrets of the past. The cinematography is the best of the year and all of the performances are top notch. This easily could have been the best film of the year.

4. Drive My Car ****

This type of film is usually my selection for the best of the year. If you look back at my choices for best picture (Lost in Translation, Half Nelson, Blue Valentine, Beasts of the Southern Wild, The Florida Project, Nomad Land), so many of them would be considered “slower” “character driven” “independent” films that do not necessarily rely as heavily on a plot to drive the story, but rather a collection of small moments that grow into incredible drama. Drive My Car is that film this year.

Again, in another year, Drive My Car would be my best film of the year, which says how great a year for cinema 2021 turned out to be.

For those adventurous and daring to be patient with this three-hour film, the rewards are grand. The premise for the film involves two people who meet in the most unexpected manner. Yusuke Kafuku and his wife, Oto, have moved to Hiroshima after a personal tragedy. The choice of city is symbolically obvious, but no less powerful. Hiroshima has a tragic past that it tries to move past. Yusuke has taken a job directing Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. Another layer in the film is how he deals with directing and staging this masterpiece. His wife, being a screenwriter, also has ideas in that regard. But while so many plot pieces are going, the center of the story is unusual relationship between Yusukue and his chauffeur, Misaki. For Yusuke, the car has always been a refuge. A place to retreat both from work or from home. Here, in order to the take the job, he oddly is told (it will be revealed later) that he must have a chauffeur. Misaki at first is the typical chauffeur: invisible. But, as they connect, it is revealed that Misaki too is trying to move on tragedy. Their relationship grounds a film about so much more than a car ride, but the car rides are what make this film special.

3. Licorice Pizza ****

I was one of the few who did not love PT Anderson’s last film Phantom Thread. While Daniel Day Lewis is always great and I also found Vicky Krieps’ Alma to an amazing, I found Lesley Manville’s Cyril a one note underwritten character. I also felt for a movie about how the mind works creatively, very little insight into the artistic process. PT Anderson’s movies always have a cold intellect to them, usually brought on by the style he shoots and edits his film, but his best movies combine that with really powerful emotions. In Phantom Thread, I felt too detached. Now comes Licorice Pizza, which may not have the intellectual brilliance of The Master and There Will Be Blood, but it has the character depth of his first film Hard Eight.

Alana is twenty-five and ready for life. There is a glorious feeling of adventure and whimsy around every corner of the 1970s San Fernando Valley that PT Anderson recreates based on his own childhood. It is rare for PT Anderson to write women leads. But here, he somehow excels at evoking that age where the world feels at your fingertips. There is a suspense and air of possibility in almost every moment including when Alana and Gary, her underaged high school friend, just walk and talk. So many of the great walk and talk scenes occur at magic hour, which happens just before dusk or dawn. And just like that time, night is coming, and the day is fading. Despite the joyful, youthful feeling, Anderson never lets you get too comfortable in this seemingly perfect place. There is trouble afoot. Perhaps it’s because of a nearly predatory relationship or several of them in the film. Perhaps it's Johnny Greenwood’s incredible score that keeps you on edge, but regardless, it is these elements that move the film into the thematics it wants to explore.

We live in an age of nostalgia where remakes or reboots are king. Here, PT Anderson has made a movie that feels nostalgic but instead of embracing that nostalgia reveals the past to be as troubling as the present. Yes, we are undergoing changes and times of crisis like we have not seen, but to sugarcoat the past is not healthy or productive. In fact, it can stop us from embracing the present.

2. The Power of the Dog ****

Like Carl Theodore Dreyer and Ingmar Bergman, Jane Campion paints the canvas with human faces. I am trying to think of directors who have used close-ups better than these three directors? I’m not sure if I can. Jane Campion after a long absence from film has returned and reminded all of us that she was and is one of the great artists in cinema.

Her take on a Western is brilliant. Gone is the quest and the glory. Gone are the gun battles and heroism. All that’s left is the toxic masculinity produced from such a tale. Benedict Cumberbatch gives one of his best performances as Phil. He is a privileged man, a rancher with a large piece of land, who wants none of society. In some ways, he’s similar to Daniel Planview from There Will Be Blood. The only connection he has is his brother. When his brother begins to court Kristin Dunst’s character, Phil makes it his mission to poison their relationship. The abuse he provides to everyone around him is astonishing in its cruelty.

If you’ve noticed a theme amongst the films that I have loved this year, most have dealt with our world whether dealing with COVID, the age of nostalgia, isolation, racism or growing old, here is the best film about toxic masculinity I’ve seen since In the Company of Men. Also, the best western since The Proposition.

1. The Green Knight ****

As this year comes to a close and I began reflecting on the films I had seen, there were so many contenders for the best film of the year. I could have place any of my 1-7 as the best film of this year. I wrote iterations of the list with various films as number one including The Power of the Dog, Licorice Pizza, Drive my Car, and The Tragedy of Macbeth. For the longest time, I thought no movie would surprise Pig. But, the more I wrote, the more The Green Knight would not leave me alone. Here is a film that astonished me the first time I saw it and has never left me since. Like the titular character, the Green Knight, the film looms in my mind as the end of the year approaches. I do not know if this is the “best” film of the year, but I can say, it is the film that struck me the most and I feel has done something magical.

I’ve already written a review of this film so I will be brief. The Green Knight acts as The Seventh Seal of our time. Humanity has long associated meaning with overcoming that which we are powerless against, death. Legacy is an obsession of the human race that we want to believe gives our lives meaning. Legacy allows us to overcome death and therefore to justify our life decisions. For Gaiwan, his life, being a bastard but related to royalty, has always been a disappointment. Notice how the camera is used in the beginning of the film to show his shattered life. Notice how at times when Gaiwan believes he’s found meaning, the editing and camera style slows. Things fall into place, but it is an illusion as they foreshadow things coming undone. Only when Gaiwan confronts and accepts death can he find peace.

Runners up: C’mon, C’mon ****, The Lost Daughter ****, Summer of Soul ****, The Beatles: Get Back ****, CODA *** ½, The Worst Person in the World *** ½, Dune *** ½, CODA *** ½, The Harder They Fall *** ½, Zola *** ½, The Last Duel *** ½