#90 - #81

A riveting, moving commemoration of the brothers and sisters of ACT-UP Paris, pushing against the deadly inertia of government and Big Pharma during the AIDS crisis of the 1990’s. For these disease sufferers (portrayed with defiant vigour by a sprawling ensemble), their life of activism not only give them purpose and agency; It gives them a family that understands, frustrates, and loves them as they are, finger snapping in solidarity as they lay dying.

Campillo refuses to make a maudlin memorial of their deaths, instead painting a vital mural of their lives. It spills forth in the righteous fury of their protests, their sexy detours upon possibly dreamt dancefloors, the frictional candour of their strategy meetings, and the intertwined vulnerability of their last-gasp romances. What a fitting way to honour the memory of a movement that fought for that most fundamental of human rights: Life.

Coolest award or nomination:

Cannes Film Festival – Queer Palm (Robin Campillo)

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David France’s How to Survive a Plague (2012) is an incredibly dense curation of home video and news media footage that chronicles the New York chapter of ACT-UP from their 1980’s infancy to their landmark triumphs in securing lifesaving drugs. While the individuals name-checked in the documentary (and the unnamed thousands who fought the same fight all around the world with other chapters and organizations) are unambiguous heroes, this candid documentary never glosses over the contentious infighting, mixed agendas, severed relationships, and splintering that always accompanies radical grassroots activism.

Jumping ahead to a more easily recalled time and place, Jehane Noujaim’s The Square (2013) is an arresting as-it-happens account of Egypt's revolutionary tumult, spanning from 2011's initial occupation of Tahir Sqaure that brought Egyptians of all religions and walks of life together, to its ensuing state of civil unrest as citizens found themselves combating each other for conflicting political goals. By primarily following a small band of the activists for two years, Noujaim lends an exhaustive scope to this epic story, as we witness what a revolution looks like in the thick of the violence and celebration. It paints an elaborate picture of the costs and the insatiable cycle of enacting social change.

Toni Collette’s throat-throttling portrayal of a woman on the brink is the best scream queen we’ve seen since Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. From her acrid support group introduction to her volcanic dinner table tirade (which practically became the whole teaser trailer) to her literally off-the-wall finale that risks leaning into Paranormal Activity territory; This is what it looks like when an actor clamps down on a genre role and commits, elevating the material in the process.

Aster does not burden himself with explaining the film’s fuzzy occult logic (as if that would make it more frightening?), and wisely limits most of the exposition to visual totems that raise more questions than they settle. And nothing about Hereditary is settling. He drenches every corner of this haunted dollhouse in grief and resentment and paint thinner, then strikes a match…

Coolest award or nomination:

Gotham Independent Film Award – Best Actress (Toni Collette)

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Demonic possession has never surpassed the high bar set when Friedkin first defined the genre with The Exorcist. But there have been noteworthy entries lately that reposition ‘things that go bump in the night’ as depression allegory, namely Jennifer Kent’s inventively spooky The Babadook (2014) and James Wan’s The Conjuring (2013).

As for Aster, his swift follow-up Midsommer (2019) received a more mixed reception, but still turned plenty of heads. A disturbing af new voice in horror has arrived!

Though faultily advertised prior to its release as snarky fairy tale revisionism à la Shrek, I was delighted to find this slick and funny update on the story of Rapunzel to be more of a throwback to Walt Disney Animation's glorious 1990’s renaissance. The characterizations are pleasantly modern, but the overall vibe is invitingly familiar, complete with a proactive female lead and another splendid score by the one-and-only Alan Menken.

Since it doesn’t date itself with easy pop culture references, it holds up tremendously well. But what really gives it such an enriching re-watch value is the beautifully communicative character animation, spearheaded by legendary Disney artist Glenn Keane. Equally striking is the rococo production design and lush colour palette, rendered here by the most gorgeous (and expensive) CGI seen in any Disney feature to date.

Coolest award or nomination:

Visual Effects Society [nomination] – Outstanding Animation, Animated Feature (Glen Keane, John Kahrs, Clay Kaytis, Roy Conli)

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Disney princesses found their third wind thanks to Tangled’s progressive blend of modern and classical sensibilities, providing the narrative and tonal source code (not to mention character models) for subsequent hits. Frozen (2013) became a global phenomenon, both celebrated and critiqued for the implicitness of its LGBTQ+ undertones. Personally, I’ve grown fonder of the more colourful and tuneful Moana (2016), which brings both fantastical and culturally steeped vivacity to its South Pacific setting.

Even Disney Animation’s sibling studio Pixar tried their hand at the princess game, giving us the magical and stunningly lit Brave (2012). Give it a second look. Trust me, it’s better than you remember.

The tale of young novitiate, Anna (discovery Agata Trzebuchowska), unearthing her past and questioning her creed in 1960’s Poland is told with grace, economy and artful understatement. The harrowing particulars of her backstory would make a distressing movie to sit through, but Pawlikowski’s retrospective vantage of genocide as an epicentre of intergenerational trauma – burying entire bloodlines and faith lineages – haunts you in a quieter, more contemplative way.

Structured around a road trip narrative, its brisk 80-minute run-time is a refreshing example of 'less is more', smartly lensed in sombre black-and-white. The frequent placement of Anna in the bottom corner of nearly every frame, often dwarfed by empty space, implies a life unlived and an existence that neither religion nor secular pleasures can fill. Even the truth brings with it no closure. Just inherited loss.

Coolest award or nomination:

Academy Award [nomination] – Best Cinematography (Łukasz Żal, Ryszard Lenczewski)

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Pawlikowski would once again probe the national mood swings of post-war Poland through an intimate character duet in his celebrated follow-up Cold War (2018), using the ever-changing world of music (from traditional folk dance to jazz) as a backdrop for a tempestuous on-again-off-again romance. Like his previous feature, this one is leanly paced and silvered by Łukasz Żal’s crisp monochrome cinematography.

This sun-dried SoCal dramedy of manners quietly broke ground for LGBTQ+ representation, neither fetishizing nor heteronormalizing the lesbian partners at the head of its rainbow family. Their individual perspectives are specifically and intrinsically informed by their queerness, but the joys and sorrows they share can be recognized by any couple and/or parents.

Even good people make stupid choices and hurt the ones they love the most. It’s sad but plainly true. That Cholodenko can infer it with such a droll and mellow vibe is surely a testament to her insightful direction and her cast's lived-in rapport (each of the five principals deserve their own paragraph). The film enjoys a genuine realism, void of snappy one-liners or bold dramatic flare. The comedy and tragedy stem organically from the characters and their unique relationships to one another.

Coolest award or nomination:

Golden Globe – Best Motion Picture, Comedy/Musical

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Shifting gears from ‘family feel-good’ to ‘romantic comedy’, Michael Showalter’s The Big Sick (2017) also examines expanding and contracting family dynamics through the prism of its main character’s intersectionality. The screenplay by Kumail Nanjiani & Emily V. Gordon (who based it on their own real life meet cute) affords every character a culturally precise point of view, while relishing the universal truisms of overbearing parents and the peculiar challenges of assimilating into a new family, not unlike The Kids Are All Right.

This deranged Genesis allegory / environmental parable / Aronofsky self-portrait, reimagined as arthouse horror, ended up being the most critically reviled 'must see' of 2017, and perhaps even the most unforgettable film of that year (for better or worse). High art, or narcissistic crockery? Honestly, I’m still undecided, and who says it can’t be both? What I can tell you is that this movie’s raw, sordid heartbeat kept thumping in my nightmares, refusing to vacate my memory just as the hordes of unwelcome houseguests who won’t leave poor Jennifer Lawrence in peace.

This is Aronosfky’s intent, of course. The reason that every head-spinning 'wtf!?!' moment registers so thunderously is because he brings them to such a masterful slow boil at first, and then escalates them exponentially. Call him crazy, but no director does crazy better than Him (he’d want me to use a capital ‘H’ there).

Coolest award or nomination:

Venice Film Festival [nominee] – Golden Lion (Darren Aronofsky)

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Aronofsky’s misbegotten Biblical epic Noah (2014) is an Old Testament bonanza in a slightly more traditional sense than mother!, but since this is still Aronofsky we’re talking about, you can bet it won’t be the Sunday school version. It’s a hot mess to be sure, but the production is impressive, shot on a mammoth set in New York and embellished by some remarkably credible effects.

Five years before The Big Short (2015) thought it was being so clever by having Margot Robbie in a bubble bath recite a Wikipedia blurb on subprime mortgage bonds, Charles Ferguson had already explained everything we need to know about the global economic collapse of 2008 with far greater clarity and integrity. The sourcing that went into his excoriating exposé is nothing short of staggering, and better yet is his ability to streamline that investigation into a cogent 100-minute format that someone with no prior knowledge can follow.

His position is clear: Those responsible for deregulating the stock market, thus encouraging unwise investments that put billions of tax payers' dollars on the bubble while waltzing away with their own eight-figure incomes, must be held accountable. Watching corporate fraudsters squirm themselves inside-out under the heat lamp of his tenacious interrogation provides a strange sort of comic relief to a documentary that otherwise brings your blood to a raging boil.

Coolest award or nomination:

Writers Guild of America – Best Documentary Screenplay (Charles Ferguson, Chad Beck, Adam Bolt)

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I suppose for comparison’s sake, The Big Short (2015) isn’t completely unworthy of your time. Writer-director Adam McKay is obviously a smart cookie, but you’ll need to decide for yourself if you think the movie he made is equally as smart. Personally, I register J.C. Chandor’s less flamboyant but equally dense Margin Call (2011) as a superior ensemble piece about pencil-pushers bursting the financial bubble.

Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers (2019), inspired by the true story of strippers who swindled money back from these Wall Street sleazes, provides a fun ‘Downstairs’ to The Big Short’s ‘Upstairs’. This guileful "crime family" saga moves at a snappy clip and finds earned empathy for the felonious femmes at its centre. As gleefully entertaining as it is, what ultimately powers it is its white-hot anger for the corporate patriarchy that has long kept its antiheroines underfoot.

Finally, though set in an earlier era of stock market corruption, Martin Scorsese’s inflammatory farce The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) is just as damning as Ferguson’s rigorously academic study, using backhanded hilarity to indict the institution as a debauched freak show. “Gooble gobble, one of us!” pretty much says it all.

By virtue of its arch performances, self-effacing humour, and twists (both delicious and literally nauseating), this witty whodunnit homage is one of those rare crowd-pleasers that actually is best enjoyed in a packed theatre. The architecture of Johnson’s puzzle-box screenplay is as byzantine as the country estate in which his murder mystery unfolds, decorated with gaudy ornaments and subtle clues throughout. Less subtle (but more enduring) is his send-up of WASPy privilege and cutthroat hypocrisy, with more than just a few passing jabs at both Trumpian xenophobia and performative white liberalism alike.

Stabilizing the whole enterprise is Ana de Armas’ grounded, wily performance that quietly steals the show from a broad comic ensemble that’s chewing the ‘Clue Board’ scenery around her.

Coolest award or nomination:

Academy Award [nomination] – Best Original Screenplay (Rian Johnson)

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Johnson’s shape-shifting sci-fi thriller Looper (2012) appeals to thinking moviegoers – what with all its time travel paradoxes and circumventions thereof – without sacrificing basic genre thrills, although it certainly inhabits a more negativistic tone compared to the colourful playfulness of Knives Out.

And while it may have incited some dissent among fanboys (plus a few misogynistic trolls) when first released, his contribution to the Disney-era Star Wars saga, The Last Jedi (2017), has gradually revealed itself to be the one with the most dramatic meat on its bones. Light up your hot-take-sabre and come fight me, bro!

Another title occupying the same mystery/comedy niche as Knives Out is Paul Feig’s willfully trashy A Simple Favor (2018); Like Rear Window meets Gone Girl meets The Stepford Wives.

This disquieting thriller about a siren-chasing videographer (Jake Gyllenhaal) blends tone and genre in interesting ways, using noirish strokes to paint over a slithery comic premise that's already plenty dark. It isn't a satire insomuch that the unscrupulous extremes he goes to for a piece of footage are unrealistic (“nightcrawling” is totally a thing), but that his dedication to his own entrepreneurial platitudes is played for morbid chuckles as often as it intends to disgust. Gyllenhaal worms his way under your skin as this ghastly parody of a self-made man. He even dropped 30 pounds for the role, the contours of his skeletal frame evoking an Angel of Death.

Bob Elswit shoots L.A. after dark as a unique vision of Hell, where police lights flicker in lieu of flames, overseen by a million evil eyes in the shape of television monitors.

Coolest award or nomination:

Academy Award [nomination] – Best Original Screenplay (Dan Gilroy)

Also worth checking out:

While Gilroy & Gyllenhaal delight in fictionalizing nightcrawling as an ethically icky profession, Alexander A. Mora’s short documentary The Nightcrawlers (2019) presents it as a morally righteous form of guerilla journalism, taking us to the slums and back alleys of the Philippines where president Duterte’s brutal war on drugs is leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Watch for free on National Geographic’s channel, if you can stomach it.

Bryan Fogel thought he was making a documentary about how easy it would be to cheat a drug test for an amateur cycling race. The story that found him was so much bigger and murkier than he imagined…

Icarus was perhaps more timely than timeless, arriving in the late summer of 2017, just months before the IOC levied official sanctions against Russia for their state-sponsored provision of steroids to athletes, and their systematic sabotage of related investigations. Topicality leading into the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics certainly grabbed the eyeballs of Netflix viewers and Academy voters alike, as it became the first direct-streaming feature film to win an Academy Award.

Now that the news cycle has long since turned, what still sticks are the warning flags it raises against governments that are all too willing to manipulate their populace, and woe be to the whistleblowers. You don't truly see what this scintillating doc is all about until its final chapters.

Coolest award or nomination:

Academy Award – Best Documentary, Feature (Bryan Fogel, Dan Cogan)

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The year following Icarus’ surprise Oscar win for Best Documentary, Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vaserhelyi’s Free Solo (2018) reached that very same summit for bearing vertiginous witness to Alex Honnold’s death-defying climb (sans rope) up the face of El Capitain in Yosemite National Park. What both these docs have in common, besides a few passing glances at the punishing regimens of athletic training, is that they continue to dissemble the tradition of documentarians being invisible, a paradigm shift that’s steadily taken hold since Michael Moore shook things up with Roger & Me (1989). Audiences are more cognizant than ever of the metaphysics of documentaries, intuiting that the very presence of the storytellers not only impacts the story, but is the story. The teams behind Icarus and Free Solo are aware that their decisions to tell these stories could have life-or-death consequences for their subjects, and responsibly choose not to hide behind their own cameras.