The 12 Best Movies of 2020

The year 2020 will undeniably go down as a transformative year for the American film industry. As with any number of other industries and institutions (the entirety of the U.S. included), small, longstanding cracks were briskly turned in gaping chasms. We don’t yet know what the final consequences will be, even as we can speculate endlessly about streaming’s dominance and the end of theatrical exhibition. But I don’t feel too inclined to focus here on what might be. Let’s just take some time to appreciate what we know for sure.

In 2020, movies were experienced in living rooms and on laptops and subscription streaming’s investment in original content came through in a handful of excellent films that we were able to enjoy in spite of the endless barrage of horror and pain that was happening beyond our screens. Oddly enough, few of the films that I found to be among 2020’s best were escapist. As with most years, the best cinema confronts us with and helps us process the larger problems of the world, and the best escapism often finds ways to do this too (as contradictory as that seems). Here are 12 films that I found worth recommending. I hope that when I put together my list for 2021 that I will have experienced more of the entries on the grandeur of the big screen, sitting in the dark, alone together.

(Amazon Studios)

12. I’m Your Woman

Much of the best genre filmmaking doesn’t happen in the pure, dime-a-dozen genre films (that stuff bores and makes us roll our eyes); it happens in the revisionist work that is necessarily dependent on a working knowledge of those conventions. Julia Hart’s I’m Your Woman takes the 70s “on the run” crime film formula and deliberately refrains from indulging in the expected beats and characters. All that is relegated to the background, and it is the absence that consequently gives the film its appeal. By focusing on the quieter struggle of the gangster’s wife, this is a feminine entry in an aggressively masculine cinematic lineage and it’s all the better for it.

I’m Your Woman is available to stream on Amazon Prime Video

 

(Amazon Studios)

11. Small Axe: Red, White and Blue

Steve McQueen’s Small Axe, an anthology of five films centering on London’s West Indian immigrant community, often struggles to navigate its own ontological question—is it television or is it film? If it’s truly a collection of five films, they surely struggle to balance a consistent level of narrative and aesthetic quality that would stand on their own. Nonetheless, the third entry, Red, White and Blue, manages to be the most wholly formed and quietly powerful.

Depicting the true experiences of Leroy Logan (John Boyega in his best performance yet), a Black man who joined London’s Metropolitan police force in an attempt to combat its malicious racism from within, Red, White and Blue presents a profoundly challenging and ongoing dilemma: How do you fight a system through the system, and how do you live with the reality that the radical change necessary is more likely to be accomplished slowly and painfully?

Red, White and Blue, as well as the entire Small Axe anthology, is available to stream on Amazon Prime Video

 

(Hulu)

10. Palm Springs

Some films are best experienced without any prior knowledge of their premise, and Palm Springs is one such film. Without revealing what it’s actually about, however, I will say that it manages to unintentionally tap into a deep reservoir of emotion that the year in quarantine has produced. It’s a light and easily watchable film, no question about it, but there is a distinct sense of absurdity (as Albert Camus defined the term) to it as it charts a necessary but impossible search for meaning amidst a cruel and meaningless existence. As it so happens, the very struggle to live on in spite of it, and especially the connections that we build to make each day more bearable, end up being very meaningful indeed.

Palm Springs is available to stream on Hulu

 

(Netflix)

9. Da 5 Bloods

It seems fitting that it was Spike Lee who got the first cinematic word in following this summer’s wave of protests and racial reconciliation. His first hit, Do the Right Thing, remains as tragically necessary today as it was in 1989. While Da 5 Bloods doesn’t manage to top that classic (nothing Lee has made since has), it does manage to trace a deep line from the traumas faced by Black soldiers during the Vietnam War through to the enduring traumas of Black Americans in the homeland who, even in 2020, are in so many ways still fighting the same fight.

Da 5 Bloods doesn’t advertise its cultural commentary, however; this is still a film that forwards a very literal journey as it pulls inspiration from John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. In that respect it also features an impeccable transition of aspect ratios that we unfortunately never got to experience in all its glory on the big screen.

Da 5 Bloods is available to stream on Netflix

 

(Amazon Studios)

8. Sound of Metal

Sound is the one element of film form that frequently gets overlooked. It’s not hard to understand why: Diegetic sound falls squarely into the affective realm, so even as it’s deeply felt it largely escapes description. Sound of Metal is a powerful reminder of cinematic sound’s ability to make you feel, to render deeply internal subjectivities in external form so that viewers can understand another person’s struggle.

Riz Ahmed gives a tremendously affecting performance as a heavy metal drummer who unexpectedly and rapidly loses his hearing. What follows is a crisis of identity and a challenging transformation of the self; entry into a rich, often ignored community and culture; and the ultimate embrace a new way of experiencing the world that offers its own beauties.

Sound of Metal is available to stream on Amazon Prime Video

 

(Netflix)

7. Mank

David Fincher’s Mank, with its deep black-and-white cinematography, anachronistic sound mix, and fake reel change markers, is a nostalgia film in form and style, if not in narrative. This account of screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz’s time writing the first draft of Citizen Kane and his experiences with the various players who would make their way into the story in some form or another, is a deeply cynical look at Golden Age Hollywood and the political battles of 1930s California.

Mank isn’t a film for everyone. It’s largely bereft of dramatic thrust and may be a tad impenetrable to those viewers without at least some preexisting knowledge of Citizen Kane, its background, and larger American film history (in other words, to anyone who isn’t already a cinephile). That said, its pleasantly indulgent style is a compelling enough reason to stick with what amounts to (in an intentional parallel to Kane) a series of moments giving the overall impression of a life: Mankiewicz and his loathing of the right-wing politics in his Hollywood social circle. As Fincher has described it, it’s not a film about the authorship dispute over Kane’s script, but rather a film about the likely origins of some of its parts and what might have compelled Mankiewicz, having initially agreed to waive screen credit, to change his mind.

Mank is available to stream on Netflix

 

(Universal Pictures)

6. The Invisible Man

Leigh Whannel’s adaptation of The Invisible Man is a perfect example of a remake done right: It takes a basic premise and justifies its return through inventive application and contemporary cultural relevance. This is a terrific piece of horror/thriller, yes, and it’s engaging because of smart staging and framing, but what makes it great is precisely how it takes something familiar and makes it uniquely modern.

Being the victim of an invisible tormenter (literally) is the allegorical substance of a film that’s really about domestic abuse, gaslighting, and psychological manipulation. An abuser chips away at their partner’s dignity, gets their partner’s friends to doubt that anything’s awry, attempts to ostracize them from that outside support system, and ultimately gets them to question their own sanity. Now that is scary.

The Invisible Man is available to stream on HBO Max

 

(Bleecker Street)

5. The Assistant

A woman leaving my screening of Kitty Green’s The Assistant described it to her companion as “hyperrealistic.” Now, this is the comment of someone who probably hasn’t seen the 1975 French film Jeanne Dielman (3 hours and 45 minutes of mostly household chores performed in real-time). To her point, however, The Assistant is almost entirely a film about mundane office labor, but it’s that exact mundanity that conceals the misogynistic rottenness at its core.

Set at the New York office of, ostensibly, Harvey Weinstein’s Miramax production company, this is the restrained antithesis of 2019’s Bombshell. There isn’t a scene where Jane (the talented Julia Garner) is in a position where we fear for her immediate safety and the fictional Weinstein substitute is never actually seen. Instead, The Assistant is a film about the constant atmosphere of dread in a space where ongoing abuses go quietly (and systematically) unacknowledged. It’s a powerful post-#MeToo film that makes its point loud and clear without ever having to spell it out for you.

The Assistant is available to stream on Hulu

 

(HBO)

4. Bad Education

Cory Finley’s HBO film Bad Education pulls off something remarkable (or at least it did for me): It tells you upfront that its events are true and then proceeds to make you immediately forget this fact because those events are so outlandish, so ridiculously unexpected, that they could surely only have been made up. Stranger than fiction indeed.

For this reason, Bad Education is best experienced blind. What I will say is that it features a characteristically great performance from Hugh Jackman and that it will take you on a rollercoaster ride that you won’t regret agreeing to.

Bad Education is available to stream on HBO Max

 

(IFC Films)

3. The Nest

Relative newcomer Sean Durkin’s The Nest is a chilling domestic drama with plenty of political subtext to give it some serious (but not in-your-face) meat. Rory (a slimy Jude Law) uproots his family back to England in pursuit of a supposedly big financial opportunity, renting out an exorbitant country manor for his wife (the always incredible Carrie Coon) and kids. But this is not a film where the chilly mansion haunts its residents; rather, it’s the family and their unresolved conflicts that haunts it. Rory is a familiar persona—as the natural collision of empty late capitalist greed and fragile masculinity, he puts on a perpetual (and blatantly hollow) façade of financial wellbeing in an attempt to gain some semblance of self-worth in the eyes of others. He’s a conman whose primary mark is himself. The Nest is an arresting film with rewarding nuance but appreciated accessibility.

The Nest is available to rent on most VOD platforms

 

(Warner Bros.)

2. Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)

Look, is Birds of Prey—or, to use its delightfully obnoxious full title, Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)—a work of transcendent cinema?  Probably not, but it’s been a year short on positive experiences. And in a year short of positive experiences sitting in the movie theater, Birds of Prey was the most fun I had with a new release, roughly a month before COVID-19 came crashing onto the scene.

Cathy Yan’s film is a candy-colored comic book movie extravaganza with the jumbled narrative and crass humor you would expect from its protagonist. It’s a simple crime film with endearing characters (all of whom are played by wonderfully charismatic actors, with Ewan McGregor’s antagonist as the cherry on top), punchy and stylish action scenes, and a great sense of fun. Oh, and it’s hella gay (never a bad thing). Since 2020 confronted us with misery at every turn, I cherish a film that gave me simple, uncomplicated joys as I sat in the theater with a big smile on my face.

Birds of Prey is available to stream on HBO Max

 

(Focus Features)

1. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

The standout scene halfway through Eliza Hittman’s Never Rarely Sometimes Always (where the film also derives its name) is a tour de force of performance and deceptively simple form. It’s a scene that takes many of our frequent cultural talking points and, like the best political filmmaking, reminds us of their embodied consequences. Great art like this takes broad, abstract concepts and refuses to divorce them from their inextricably human realities, and it’s stories like these that necessarily confront audiences to look at others with empathy.

The odyssey that protagonist Autumn—a 17-year-old girl from small-town Pennsylvania who travels to New York City to terminate an unwanted pregnancy without parental accompaniment—endures has clear sympathies. But it’s to the film’s credit that it never preaches; rather, it presents its case with naturalistic style, making us bear witness to the everyday acts of mundane terror that women everywhere experience. Though the events of Never Rarely Sometimes Always are often frustrating and heartbreaking, it’s the small acts of bravery and solidarity that it depicts that are most powerful.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always is available to stream on HBO Max

 

(Sony/Naughty Dog)

Special Mention: The Last of Us Part II

I would be remiss if I did not make space to acknowledge the best feat of narrative storytelling in any medium that I encountered in 2020, The Last of Us Part II. The game, of course, owes a great deal of its effectiveness to the cinematic, and it’s the progress in that area that has successfully elevated video game storytelling in general over the last decade. At the same time, The Last of Us Part II’s success is more indebted to the qualities that are uniquely game-ic. Many films have effectively utilized multiple perspectives, but a video game’s ability to directly involve you in its characters’ stories allows alternative subjectivities to become fully realized. This potential exists in every video game, but never have I seen one take advantage of it so profoundly. The role that you as a player are forced into—an orchestrator of brutal violence and a vessel of immense anger and pain—dovetails with an ingenious narrative structure that exposes the harsh realities of revenge and relativity.

An absolute masterpiece and the pinnacle of this console generation of gaming, The Last of Us Part II is one of the greatest games ever made.

The 25 Best Movies of the Decade

(20th Century Fox)

It’s the start of a new decade and I don’t feel too compelled to justify the creation of this list. Simply put, it’s an excuse to reflect on 10 years of cinema and praise some incredible works of art.

However, in putting together this list I did begin to recognize a certain personal significance. I can’t begin to list all the ways I’ve changed since 2010. This decade began while I was in middle school, saw me through the duration of high school, and almost to the completion of my undergraduate degree. Though all this my love of movies flourished exponentially. This isn’t just a list of 25 great films (though it’s primarily that), it’s also something of a reflection on some of the films that made me.

My tastes today are vastly different than they were in 2010 so I will confess a bias towards the latter half of the decade. I haven’t seen nearly every film to be released, but I definitely have not seen as many from the first half when I was just a preteen boy obsessed with superheroes.

One final admission: this list is very arbitrary. Everything before the 10^th spot could easily be contested, reordered, or swapped for any number of worthy films. Nonetheless, I tried my best to pick 25 films that I think defined the decade in film and that I think are truly extraordinary.

I have limited this list to one film per franchise and two per filmmaker. I have also excluded any 2019 releases, as I think they need to age a little before their placement in the cinematic canon becomes clear.

(The Weinstein Company)

25. Carol (2015)

The best period pieces are more than nostalgic yearnings, they work to rewrite popular history by telling the stories that were historically ignored and repressed. Todd Haynes is no stranger to this, and though Carol has a great deal of romantic, Hopper-esque Americana, it is the tender and forbidden friendship-turned-romance between its two leads that speaks loudest.

(Paramount)

24. mother! (2017)

An unflinching fever dream, a compact biblical allegory, a fierce environmental justice parable, the story of a self-centered male artist and his muse—consider Darren Arnonofsky’s divisive mother! whatever you’d like (all of the above is my preferred reading). Though certainly not for everybody, those who can get behind the aggressively subjective style may fall in love with one of the decade’s greatest provocations.

(A24)

23. A Most Violent Year (2014)

What has become of the American Dream in the 21^st century? In a few words: people got wiser. J. C. Chandor’s muted crime drama follows ambitious immigrant Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac in his best performance to date) as he struggles to expand his business while remaining a good man. A fierce idealist, Abel does his best to play it straight, but the cruel reality of the Dream is always there to remind him of the costs. Quietly captivating.

(Disney)

22. Toy Story 3 (2010)

Coming-of-age films tend to be limited by the implicit limitations of experience and forward-looking ambition. Toy Story 3 stands apart because its perspective is that of imagined childhood signifiers reflecting on the person who will soon be leaving them (and a period of his life) behind. Its simple truths—of growing up, of accepting change, of saying goodbye—are universal and human. One of Pixar’s highest achievements, the humor and genre thrills are ultimately outpaced by its genuine poignancy.

(A24)

21. A Ghost Story (2017)

Gripping in its stillness, A Ghost Story effectively conveys the enormity of time and space. The Charlie Brown-style bedsheet ghost may seem amusing on paper, but it’s a testament to the film’s quality that it never once feels silly or out of place. Ghosts are rarely considered beyond their scare value, but here David Lowery recognizes their inherent sadness—tethered to this world by unfinished business, longing to be seen and heard by the loved ones they left behind. Accessibly poetic.

(Paramount)

20. Arrival (2016)

Most science fiction films fall into the same pitfall of anthropomorphized aliens. It’s not difficult to understand why that is; Arrival, however, gave us aliens that felt truly alien. The film that established Denis Villeneuve as a force to be reckoned with, Arrival sets itself apart by focusing on the role of linguistics in first encounters, a focus that pairs nicely with its cosmopolitan dreams of international cooperation (a theme that didn’t go unnoticed when the film was released a few days after the 2016 presidential election).

(Columbia)

19. Skyfall (2012)

Of all the films this decade to grapple with the tensions between past and future (you’ll find another at the #9 spot on this list), Skyfall was maybe not an obvious candidate. But as the old ways of the intelligence community rapidly erode in the face of new, more terrifying digital alternatives, the shoe ultimately fits. Approaching Casino Royale’s brilliance, the third Daniel Craig James Bond outing was a sleek modern update with extraordinary cinematography by the legendary Roger Deakins.

(Universal)

18. Get Out (2017)

Your mileage with Jordan Peele’s masterful directorial debut as a horror film may vary. But even if it doesn’t always reach horror on a formal level, this is brilliant social satire, hilariously clever from start to finish but never once losing the sharp edge of its commentary. A lot of great cinema in the 2010s worked to expose different perspectives on the American experience and expand our collective understanding of this country. Get Out was one of the best, capturing the everyday anxieties of black Americans alongside the cultural zeitgeist.

(A24)

17. Under the Skin (2013)

Unsettling from its earliest moments, Under the Skin is a triumph in film form. A work of textured sound and rhythm, it is not the “what” that is the draw here but the “how.” Its arthouse pretentions may not appeal to some, but look no further if you are seeking the unrivaled effect of all the cinematic elements working in tandem to achieve a powerful and seductive trance. Also noteworthy it’s one of the films that put indie production company/distributor A24 on the map.

(Marvel Studios)

16. Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

2011’s pulp adventure throwback Captain America: The First Avenger was an essential stepping stone to get to The Winter Soldier. The best entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe takes the idealistic American Dream embodied by Captain America and brings it crashing into the realities of the modern world. A terrific action thriller, the film confronts the moral ambiguity of 21^st century America, its surveillance state, and (an inclusion more resonant in hindsight) the exploitation of social media algorithms.

(Fox Searchlight)

15. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

Arguably the most Wes Anderson film that Wes Anderson has ever Wes Anderson-ed, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a pure delight filled with the director’s signature comedic quirks and watercolor symmetry. The peculiar, deadpan intentionality of Anderson’s humor is used to full effect here, as is his tremendous ensemble made up of regulars and newcomers alike. Great for a hearty laugh on a cold winter day.

(Fox Searchlight)

14. The Shape of Water (2017)

Guillermo del Toro called his fairy tale for troubled times “an antidote to cynicism,” which is as appropriate a label as any. A work of swooning romantic fantasy and approachable (but no less relevant) social commentary, The Shape of Water is as much about del Toro’s love of the Other and the cinema that birthed it as it is the love his characters give to each other. A film that warms the soul.

(Warner Bros.)

13. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Never forget that Mad Max: Fury Road was made by a senior citizen. A feat of controlled chaos, the decade in film rarely, if ever, saw better wall-to-wall action. The film is a ferocious adrenaline rush that never looses its viewer in the insanity, pulling them along with precise framing and editing and a very human story of redemption and women’s rights.

(Warner Bros.)

12. Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

A shockingly phenomenal follow-up to one of the most celebrated science fiction films of all time, Blade Runner 2049 is a reminder of what can come of a massive budget, a dedicated cast and crew, and an artist left to work without studio interference. Far more than a nostalgic cash grab, 2049 expands upon its predecessor by fleshing out its dystopian world and furthering its question of what it means to be human. Better yet is the extraordinary craft and the deliberate pacing that sinks its teeth into you and won’t let go.

(Paramount)

11. Silence (2016)

Martin Scorsese will be remembered by most for his crime dramas, but it is Silence—something of an outlier in the director’s oeuvre—that may be his greatest accomplishment. A profound work of religious meditation, the film is necessary viewing for believers and nonbelievers alike, casting doubt on organized faith but finding its own renewed spirituality amidst the fallout. Bracing and epic.

(Sony Pictures Classics)

10. Whiplash (2014)

Some of the most memorable cinema attains a physical reaction from its viewer—tears, chills, or tremors. One of my favorites is the elevated heartrate, a staple of edge-of-your-seat suspense and a surefire indicator that a film is working as designed. Whiplash is one such showcase of finely tuned tension, a gripping story of self-destructive obsession and abuse brought to life by electric filmmaking that leaves you gasping for air.

(Lucasfilm)

9. Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

There are really just a few core issues that ultimately plagued the film industry this decade: the fracturing of Hollywood output into blockbuster and independent films as a response to the rise of digital streaming; the prominence of nostalgia, both in response to these industrial conditions and as its own cultural force; and the push for greater diversity, on screen and off. There are many films that embodied these concerns, but none of them managed to actively examine them quite like Star Wars: The Last Jedi. The best entry in the 40-year-plus franchise, The Last Jedi is not just a superbly entertaining and thoughtful piece of mythological space fantasy, it is a reflection on a franchise, an industry, and a country attempting to navigate between the past and the future. This is a film about reconciling this tension. It’s also a film about resistance in the face of defeat, of clinging to morally just political convictions even as the forces of evil seem to be closing in. Clever, subversive, and timely.

(Warner Bros.)

8. Gravity (2013)

On one level, Gravity is a very simple film—two astronauts attempt to make it safely back to Earth after disaster strikes above it. In the process, one of them confronts past trauma and is reborn upon reentry. It’s a straightforward story and a thrilling roller coaster ride. However, Gravity is so much more than that thanks to the artistry at play. The indelible long takes and fluid camerawork of Alfonso Cuarón and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (in addition to extraordinary sound design and one of the decade’s best musical scores) elevates the material. An exercise in cinematic movement and the simple delights of the medium itself.

(Wild Bunch)

7. Blue Is the Warmest Color (2013)

The immediate legacy of Blue Is the Warmest Color came from its graphic and extended sex scenes; though I understand why that aspect stood out to people, it would be a mistake to claim that sex is the only thing the film depicts so excessively. This is a film about unrestrained pleasures and they are all explored in long, drawn out sequences (beyond the sexual, eating and dancing are very prominent). The raw, uncompromising focus on Adèle Exarchopoulos’s face grounds the film visually, as well as narratively, through this three-hour coming-of-age odyssey and exploration of sense and desires. To adopt the title of another staple of French cinema: a breathless film.

(Warner Bros.)

6. Her (2013)

How has love changed in the modern world? Perhaps a little, perhaps a lot, perhaps not at all. One thing that Her makes clear, however, is that it will remain a transcendent force not bound to any physical realm. Set in a semi-utopic Los Angeles in the near future, Her beautifully depicts the challenges of human relationships in a world that technology has made (paradoxically) both more and less connected. A film as much about melancholic loneliness and alienation as it is the joyful and mundane exultation.

(Warner Bros.)

5. Inception (2010)

Hot off The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan cashed in his goodwill to make an ambitious film delving into the dreamscape. Yet where many filmmakers would have chosen to lean into the surreal, Nolan sought control and structure. Such a choice lent Inception’s fantastical side a more disruptive and pragmatic presence against the familiar background of genre. A feat of practical spectacle and genius editing, Nolan is the ultimate puppet master here, cross cutting like a maniac yet never leaving clarity behind in the process. Each layer overlaps to create an exceptional whole, a timeless triumph of imagination and cinematic showmanship.

(Warner Bros.)

4. Dunkirk (2017)

Inception is a film with many rules, each clearly presented through long sequences of exposition. That’s not an insult, but the distinct absence of exposition in Dunkirk—which still retains Nolan’s penchant for the precise manipulation of time—is a surefire indicator of the evolution of a filmmaker. Pushing his capacity for unbridled spectacle and sensation to its limit, this is no ordinary war film but rather something akin to a blockbuster experimental film that snuck its way into the multiplex. Sight, sound, and montage collide to create a film more concerned with experience than character. Moreover, Dunkirk shatters traditional notions of military heroism. It’s pure cinema.

(A24)

3. Moonlight (2016)

Barry Jenkins is a warm and loving man. It shows in his films, each of them tender and beautiful, even when their subject matter warrants anger. There is still a definite sadness to Moonlight, but it never overwhelms because the film is in such compassionate hands. Depicting three key chapters in a man’s life, Jenkins homes in on the destructive consequences of toxic masculinity in low-income black communities, the kind that stomps out sensitivity and shuns all but heteronormativity. Yet through it all, Moonlight doesn’t have a hateful bone in its body. It is a film of unrivaled sincerity that silently recognizes the root of the destruction on display—the white presence is felt, not shown. Celebrating Moonlight as a landmark in black cinema is important, but it might also be limiting. This is humanist cinema at its finest.

(Netflix)

2. Roma (2018)

Alfonso Cuarón is one of our greatest living artists—not just in film, but any medium. His images are dense but immaculately framed, each one conjuring memories of the greatest paintings but with the controlled movement of the greatest cinema. I hesitate to call Roma his best film—between it, Gravity, Children of Men, and Y Tu Mamá También, that seems like an insurmountable and reductive designation to make. However, I will say that I don’t think Roma would have been possible without those three precursors. It is cinema of the highest order, and by that I mean cinema simultaneously at its grandest and most intimate and making full use of the unique attributes of its medium. But not to be mistaken as just an exercise in film form, Roma is imbued with more humanity than one can process in a single viewing, ripe with emotion, observation, and allusion. The world in a film.

(A24)

1. Ex Machina (2015)

Some great films explore one thing extremely well. Others manage to explore several at the same time without making any sacrifices along the way. Ex Machina is one such film. Initially an unassuming but exceptional work of science fiction, it plays like a parasite, infecting the mind, beckoning you to return to it, and growing more intricate and rewarding on each viewing. First it wows as a tight chamber piece of shifting power dynamics and allegiances. Then it’s a philosophical meditation on technology, consciousness, and creation. Perhaps you’ll notice the quietly damning commentary on corporate data mining and the anxieties of digital surveillance. But eventually I hope it’s the misogyny of the mad scientist/Silicon Valley-type billionaire and the pursuit of a woman’s stolen existence that comes to the forefront. To some, Ava’s masterful game of deception might initially feel like a betrayal. However, it’s clear where the film’s sympathy ultimately lies. As the best of the decade, Ex Machina has enough thematic relevance to deserve recognition; more straightforwardly, though, it may also just be the best movie I saw.

Some honorable mentions:

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Call Me by Your Name, Captain America: Civil War, Chef, Cold War, Crimson Peak, Eighth Grade, First Reformed, Fruitvale Station, Inside Out, Interstellar, La La Land, Lady Bird, Locke, Logan, Monsters, Moonrise Kingdom, Paddington 2, Phantom Thread, Rango, The Revenant, Shame, The Social Network, Spotlight, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Steve Jobs, 12 Years a Slave, Vox Lux

The Best Movie Moments of the 2010s

With the decade coming to a close, I felt compelled to reflect on some of the great cinematic moments of the 2010s. A two-hour film should be more than the sum of its parts, but that doesn’t mean that certain parts don’t make an even greater impression that clings to you for hours, days, or years after viewing.

What this list is: a loosely ranked collection of a few of these extraordinary movie moments that have stayed with me—moments of tremendous excitement, staggering craft, and/or emotional and thematic resonance. What this list is not: an all-encompassing overview of every great scene, nor a reflection of all of this decade’s greatest films. Not every great film is reducible to a singular moment worthy of playing over and over again (e.g., Dunkirk’s intricately woven timeline and spectacle largely escapes this kind of summary).

Nonetheless, here are 20 of my favorites.

(Warner Bros.)

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) – Motorcycles

Perhaps the greatest action film of the decade, Mad Max: Fury Road is wall-to-wall insanity. It is therefore tough to point to just one sequence to celebrate (both because the entire film is essentially one giant chase and because all of it is so sensational) but the motorcycle attack that sees Max and Furiosa fighting together for the first time might be it. George Miller’s film is a stupendous feat of staging, editing, and collective momentum and this scene perfectly encapsulates that.

(Fox Searchlight)

The Shape of Water (2017) – Underwater Kiss

Guillermo del Toro’s stirring romantic fairy tale will go down in film history as a staple of its period. For those who can see past the juvenile “fish sex” comments, the sequence where Eliza floods her apartment bathroom to share a fleeting moment of storybook romance with her amphibian man partner is delightful. The smile she flashes Giles (and us) has a soul-piercing authenticity.

(Marvel Studios)

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) – Snap

It is not the cliffhanger shock value of Avengers: Infinity War that makes its ending great—the moment T’Challa turned to dust was a dead giveaway that the death of half the universe would be a temporary inconvenience. Instead, it is the execution of this quasi-religious event that makes it so memorable. Members of the Marvel universe don’t just turn to dust, they cease to exist entirely, silently fading into the unknown. There is an alarming and disturbing peacefulness to the staging (the choice to forgo music in favor of distant thunder was a simple but inspired move) that serves as a final twist of the knife as the Avengers begin to recognize the depth of their failure.

(NEON)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) – Orchestra

As Portrait of a Lady on Fire has yet to be seen by the larger public (outside of the festival circuit, it saw a brief one-week run in NYC and LA but will see a wider release in February), I will avoid divulging any specific information here. Put simply, there is a sequence of brilliant orchestral staging that, despite its simplicity, achieves a profound emotional impact. It has left me listening to this Vivaldi movement on repeat, a movement the film takes and effectively imbues with the entirety of a romance.

(Annapurna)

Her (2013) – Photograph

Speaking of communicating the entirety of a romance through song, Her makes a similar effort, though where Portrait of a Lady on Fire uses a single take, it relies on montage. The gorgeous piano piece (composed in the film by the immaterial AI character Samantha and in real life by Arcade Fire) serves as a “photograph” to encompass a relationship. Paired with a series of dreamy images, the scene is a lingering reminder of some of life’s simplest and most radiant moments.

(Warner Bros.)

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) – Nightclub

There is no shortage of incredible filmmaking on display in Blade Runner 2049, a film with the kind of deliberate pacing and atmospheric stillness that legendary films are made of. When K finally tracks down Deckard, the original film’s protagonist, he is treated to a gripping chase through a long-abandoned Las Vegas nightclub. The malfunctioning automated performance (of holographic recreations of Marilyn Monroe and Frank Sinatra) occasionally but violently pierces the tense silence, an effect that’s difficult to put a finger on but undoubtedly leaves a mark.

(Warner Bros.)

Interstellar (2014) – No Time for Caution

Christopher Nolan as a knack for grand feats of staging and he knows he can rely on composer Hans Zimmer to give them an extra punch. Following a spectacular jump scare (something else Nolan is quietly adept at). Interstellar’s desperate docking attempt was the scene that elevated a good space odyssey to a great one which, warts and all, contained some truly sublime moments of intensity and cosmic awe.

(Lionsgate)

La La Land (2016) – Epilogue

Though not Damien Chazelle’s most impressive musical setpiece (more on that later), the epilogue in La La Land takes full advantage of Justin Hurwitz’s memorable score and takes us on a dialogue-free romantic fantasy of what could have been. Though the sequence was essentially lifted from the 1951 film An American in Paris (check it out, it’s quite good), it still feels lively and original. Hollywood musicals are a rare breed these days but here is a compelling argument for their resurrection.

(Paramount)

The Avengers (2012) – Assembly

This side of Avengers: Endgame (2019), it’s easy to forget that there was a time when the cinematic universe seemed like an unlikely concept. However, this climactic moment of unity in The Avengers proved the idea was not just possible, but also exhilarating. Following a terrific character revelation in Bruce Banner’s “I’m always angry” line, Alan Silvestri’s score swells as the camera circles around the assembled Avengers, the defining moment of a film that would change Hollywood, for better and for worse.

(Focus)

BlacKkKlansman (2018) – Charlottesville

Though some have called the sequence exploitative (a claim that is not without its merit), the final documentary montage of Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman ensures that viewers are unable to walk away thinking that the battle against white supremacy is a thing of the past. Collecting news footage of the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, this is an angry and terrifying scene to end on. Lee’s final image of a colorless, upside-down American flag is a confrontation: this is America and you cannot pretend otherwise.

(Disney)

Toy Story 3 (2010) – Goodbye

The conclusion to the third entry of the Toy Story franchise was so perfect that it (at least in my book) preemptively sabotaged the impact of the fourth. As Andy prepares to leave for college, he gifts his childhood toy collection to the young and adorable Bonnie before saying one final goodbye. It is a staggeringly emotional ending that has never once failed to bring me to tears, for it happens upon some very human and very universal truths: the inevitability of farewells, of growing older, of change, but also of gratitude for the countless memories and experiences that make us who we are and that we always keep with us, even as we enter new chapters in our lives.

(Lucasfilm)

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) – Let It Burn

Rian Johnson’s subversive entry in Hollywood’s largest franchise (that also happens to be the best Star Wars film) has no shortage of incredible sequences to choose from—to name a few, a glossy red throne room showdown, a shockingly silent lightspeed collision, and a tender reunion between siblings that takes on new emotional gravitas after Carrie Fisher’s passing. However, I’ve chosen the film’s moral and thematic centerpiece as the highlight, a scene that may as well be the moral and thematic centerpiece of a decade of sequels, reboots, and remakes. A posthumous appearance from Yoda (an inclusion that demonstrates how fan service can be powerful when a story necessitates it) encourages us to learn from the past rather than hide from it or erase it altogether. In a decade of generational tensions, there is a powerful message here to let go of old ways when they have lost their relevance and to put that energy and experience towards something new. Johnson lingers on the indelible image of two faded masters watching an embodiment of their legacy burn, confident that something better will grow from its remains.

(Warner Bros.)

Gravity (2013) – Rebirth

Alfonso Cuarón’s masterful space thriller is packed full of sweeping and visually breathtaking moments (Cuarón’s regularly achieves immense camera fluidity through the extended tracking shots in his films). This is a quieter scene that was especially significant to me as a growing cinephile, for it teased the possibilities of visual storytelling. The fetal position Sandra Bullock’s character peacefully adopts is not exactly subtle, but it is charged with symbolic meaning that gave Gravity a deep thematic resonance that undercut any criticisms that the film was slight on story.

(A24)

Moonlight (2016) – You're the Only One

Though it may not be obvious in something so quiet and tender, Moonlight functions as a feature-length buildup of tension in service of the ultimate release of a lifelong burden. While watching Chiron conjure the strength to finally reveal the vulnerability that he has destructively suppressed, one is reminded of all the moments in our own lives when, butterflies in our stomach, we finally take the leap of translating thought into words. The final scene of Barry Jenkin’s masterpiece is nothing short of one of cinema’s greatest beats of catharsis.

(Warner Bros.)

Wonder Woman (2017) – No Man’s Land

Deliberate setup leads to great payoff. By bombarding Diana with repeated (and typically sexist) denials of her ability and her desire to do good, the moment she finally says “enough” becomes all the more impactful. Stepping out into No Man’s Land and revealing her iconic costume, Diana’s heroic feat is underscored by the raw emotional impact of finally seeing a woman superhero take control of a screen almost exclusively dominated by men. Wonder Woman is a film with a simple, crowd-pleasing kind of feminism, but even if it is not radical it is still undeniably powerful.

(Sony Pictures Classics)

Whiplash (2014) – Solo

The film that put Damien Chazelle on the map remains one of the most heart-racing thrillers out there. A cutthroat tale of obsession and abuse, Whiplash culminates in a magnificent final solo that will leave you wondering how a man playing the drums can be one of the most intense, suspenseful, and ultimately euphoric showcases of cinematic craftsmanship this decade. Though the scene naturally owes a lot to the music itself, its real centerpiece is Tom Cross’s Oscar-winning editing, a kinetic but controlled feat of assembly that reminds you just how thrilling a seemingly simple cut can be.

(Netflix)

Roma (2018) – Miscarriage

There’s no way around it—Roma’s delivery scene is absolutely devastating. A well-earned emotional payoff to all that preceded it, it punches you in the gut and stabs you in the heart. But beyond the sheer impact of the revelation, it is the brutal (but brilliant) execution that makes it all the more effective. Cuarón’s signature long take prevents you from looking away, but it is the separation of action in background and foreground (the former where doctors attempt CPR on the newborn, the latter where Cleo looks on in panicked terror) that brings it to the next level. Your eyes must constantly dart between the two planes, a challenge that lends itself to the disorienting chaos that Cuarón was aiming for. Like the rest of Roma, this is cinema of the highest order, cinema that uses its unique properties to monumental effect.

(Warner Bros.)

Inception (2010) – Corridor

Perhaps the sole remaining auteur who can sell a blockbuster on name recognition alone, Christopher Nolan makes high concept action thrillers that are nothing short of sensational. Known for his stubborn (and more than welcome) commitment to practical effects, the height of Nolan’s cinema may well be Inception’s rotating corridor. An action setpiece that remains unrivaled 10 years later, the immediate “how did they do that?” response is quickly surpassed by the implicit spectacle of seeing the impossible brought to life in front of you. The phrase “movie magic” has been deeply ingrained in our cultural vocabulary but it is not often that we get to see its truest realizations.

(A24)

Ex Machina (2015) – Skin

Ex Machina’s brilliance is thanks in part to just how many things it is simultaneously (that is, how many ways it can be read thematically), a quality that consistently gives new life to each rewatch. However, at its core Alex Garland has described the film as the story of a girl. This girl—Ava—is human even though the men around her debate that fact. She spends the film discreetly, masterfully, finding her way to freedom. In a scene of quiet symbolic enormity, she takes for herself that which she was deprived of by her (male) creator, captor, and abuser: skin. She stands naked before a set of mirrors, yet in a sense she is fully clothed for the first time, fully formed on her own terms. The cover of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (a story that looms large over Ex Machina, as well as all tales of artificial intelligence) is adorned with a quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost: “Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mold me man? Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?” In the ultimate act of defiance, Ava molds herself.

(Lucasfilm)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) – Saber

Nestled nicely at the decade’s midpoint, Star Wars: The Force Awakens ostensibly marked one of the most prominent talking points that Hollywood faced this decade: on-screen representation in mainstream cinema. One of the most affecting, invigorating, and transcendent movie moments of the 2010s (it produced immediate cheers at my opening night screening) is the one in which the saga’s storied lightsaber launches past Kylo Ren (standing in for all the men whose entitlement was finally being challenged) into the hand of Rey, the film’s instantly iconic heroine. More than just a terrific character beat, it is a scene of a woman effectively seizing a signifier of masculine power for herself, an object synonymous with unequivocal heroism and narrative centrality. Ignore the regressive, Reddit-catering changes to the character in The Rise of Skywalker—in a moment of mythic cinematic import, a new, long overdue hero was born and it was beautiful.