My Favorite Movies of 2016 in Nine Digestible Categories
Every year it is the same story. As the year happens, people bemoan the state of movies. Then by the end of the year, and people compile their end of the year lists, we realize that movies are not a dying medium, slowly being replaced by television. Studios just succumb to the antiquated model of old release patterns. Movies vying for Oscars has to come out late in the year for momentum and blockbusters must be released in the dead heat of the summer. Both “20th Century Women” and “Why Him?” were close to sell outs last weekend as I attended my local multiplex. “Lion,” although only playing in two theaters in New York, sold out a 560-seat theater and its highest billed actor was Dev Patel.
Sure, those films were helped by the holiday bump and limited releases, causing the demand to look greater due to the lack of supply, but people are still going to the movies. And if not, the means of production has allowed for filmmakers to make $20 million indies with sources of output like Amazon Prime and Netflix along with the traditional studios to distribute to a wider net of audiences. With emerging voices like Barry Jenkins and Damien Chazelle and returning veterans and legends like Jarmusch and Scorsese releasing films this year, it is hard to begin eulogizing cinema.
So, it is my job to highlight 20 of my favorite films of the year. And to not succumb to the usual listicle, this list will be broken down to ten categories because all these films deserve to be watched.
Best Movies of the Year where Mahershala Ali Plays an Untraditional Father Figure for about 10 minutes of the movie
Moonlight, Kicks
Thank god for “Moonlight,” a film that has been written about so much that I do not know what I can bring to the conversation at this point. Without it, people may be left to try to salvage Nate Parker’s ill-begotten “Birth of a Nation,” as the obligatory black film of the year that it was positioned as at Sundance back in January of last year. But, “Moonlight” should not be considered a token of a film. Its rise to the top through think pieces and word-of-mouth speaks to how it was able to naturally build its base of spectators. “Birth of a Nation,” on the other hand, struggled to connect partially due to its controversy but also to its haphazard “Braveheart” style hero narrative and questionable use of victimhood especially that of rape. “Moonlight” is cinema at its best. It is a passport to a world, a mindset, an experience that is not readily available. It is empathy.
While “Moonlight” has dominated the conversation, Justin Tipping’s “Kicks” has been barely touched upon. It has been spoken so little of that since I saw it I have questioned my love of this small film. Tipping riffs on “Bicycle Thieves,” in which an African American teen, Brandon, gets his brand-new sneakers stolen in a city right on the outskirts of Oakland. This allows for Tipping to breeze through the neighborhood as Brandon and his two buddies searches for the men who stole his shoes. It’s a small film that screams that this is a first feature, but the style is so assured. Tipping is not afraid to take risks, allowing for flourishes of style and metaphors (there is a motif of an astronaut that aggressively highlights Brandon’s alienation for the things around him) that many more conservative filmmakers would not bother to entertain. Like “Bicycle Thieves” the plot is simply an excuse to explore a post-world II Italy, the plot here is an excuse for Tipping to explore the neighborhoods that has been forgotten about in film since the early 90’s. These characters are so richly drawn beyond what could easily be caricatures. If “Boyz in the Hood” gave a glimpse to life in “the hood,” “Kicks” is a portraiture. Also, best Mahershala Ali performance this year.
Best Movies of the Year where the Central Theme is that Grief is a Motherfucker
Manchester by the Sea, Jackie
There are horror movies which relies on jump scares. Like a roller coaster these momentary jumps are fun but ultimately has no lingering effects except for a scratchy throat. That is exactly the same way I feel about tearjerkers. Movies like “Lion” or “Beaches” live on sentimentality and tears. Like a superficial thrill ride, these films have a purpose and place. But, then there is a film like “Manchester by the Sea.” The film is filled with little moments that prove that Kenneth Lonergan is one of the great humane dramatist working today. Sadness and grief seeps into you like water slowly draining into the ground. But, what is so illuminating about the film is how the film portrays people dealing with grief; with anger, ambivalence. These characters are simply living. I have a friend, unfamiliar with Lonergan’s works and what struck as well was how funny the film was. That’s because even when our closest love ones are gone that does not mean that life stops going.
What happens, though, if someone’s life is defined by a person who dies? Pablo Larrain is one of the most exciting filmmakers working today. In “Jackie,” he takes what could have been a maudlin drama and with an incredible score by Mica Levi, creates a horror film. The monster for Jackie Kennedy is the weight of legacy, purpose and the American ideal. Is this what the real Jackie Kennedy went through in the immediate aftermath of JFK’s assassination? Probably not. But, what historical fiction does is to draw a parallel with these pristine historical figures with everyday living. What struck me most with “Jackie” was the amount of decisions that had to be made immediately after the tragedy. The same with “Manchester.” Jackie Kennedy mourns while also keeping up appearances in a role that has been bestowed upon her. She is the first lady of America, after all. She can’t be seen too sad, angry, or drunk. The real-life piece that is written about her weeks after JFK’s funeral which is fictionalized here as a framing device, was instrumental in sculpting that image. It sculpted a Camelot.
The Best Movies of the Year Where Coming-of-age is Manifested as a Monster
Closet Monster, The Fits
Not enough movies talk about how scary it is to become an adult. I’m in my early twenties, on the precipice of doing adult things like getting a full-time career and job and I still go to sleep at night in the fetal position. So, it is no wonder that puberty, adulthood and burgeoning sexuality has been portrayed in films as some sort of monstrosity. “Closet Monster,” a small Canadian film that I do not know anyone who saw, creates a monster in a teenager who is discovering his sexuality for the first time as he goes off to college. But, the complexity of this film from first time director, Stephen Dunn, comes from the fact that he is not defined by his burgeoning sexuality. Rather, this stress is compounded by the facts of adolescence. Pressure come from his single-parent father, whose self-destruction comes from the loosening of his grasp of his child, his artistic ambitions while confined in a small Canadian suburb, and the trauma from the abandonment of his mother. The monster in the on-the-nose title is not just one of repressed sexuality, but rather repression in all fronts. It’s no wonder that the violent act that occurs in this film is not because of sexuality at all.
The monster in “The Fits,” another small film by a first-time filmmaker, Anna Rose Holmer, also rides the line of imagined or real. Her characters are on the precipice of teen-hood. This is the time when divisional lines are truly cemented, especially gender norms. Her protagonist starts off in a boxing gym, filled with males but is drawn across the hall to an all-female dance troupe. Insecurities are never immediately present especially from those who are feeling it. It usually comes with a look. Especially for a teenager, there is no greater currency than a sense of belonging. “The Fits’s” ability to hone in on that central need in a way that is not pedantic really creates a powerful image. The final shot of bliss as Royalty Hightower finally embraces the monster that would make her belong is one of the great cinematic images of 2016.
The Best Horror Movies Where the Little Girl is the Most Terrifying Things about It
The Wailing, The Eyes of My Mother
To be fair, little girls are terrifying. It probably has something to do with the corrupting of something innocent that gets into the crawl of everyone’s skin. “The Wailing” is a Korean epic of a possession movie. And like the best Korean films, there is fluidity with genre in this film. The film readily goes from horror to police procedural mystery to comedy. Horror films are best when it comes from an assured hand and Na Hong-Jin is certainly assured in his skill and style. He slowly paces out the film with mood, atmosphere and uncertainty. At 2 ½ hours, each layer is lovingly paced. Not all the best movies have something to say in the undercurrent of the film. Some can just be plain scary and fun.
From the epic nature of “The Wailing,” comes the efficiency of “The Eyes of My Mother.” Nicolas Pesce’s first feature runs at a little under an hour and 20 minutes, and will undoubtedly become a cult film in which high schoolers show their friends to revel in how fucked up it is. Once again, this film thrives on the assured hand of Pesce’s direction. The black and white photography, the loving reconstruction of a minimalist household and the combination of aspects of image, costuming and setting creates a total cinematic experience. This film is informed by many in the past. The black and white images is reminiscent of early David Lynch and the economy of violence reminds me of the European art-house horror from Bunuel to Franju. Eyes plays a big role in horror films. It is scary to not be able to see and sight is connected to something so fragile and disposable. The camera is our eyes to this particular world. And the film works with the whole image. In one scene, we saw our hero/monster washing dishes and it is what we see through the window that is grotesque and haunting. These are images, that will not escape anybody who will eventually discover this film.
The Best Movies Where the Traditional Notions of How We Fall in Love is Questioned
The Lobster, The Love Witch
Love is overrated. Well, the way most people think about love is overrated. “The Lobster,” from Greek satirist Yorgos Lathimos, skewers our societal pressure on people to find a partner. The film’s dystopic setting strips away all that feels human so that all that is left is a kaleidoscope view of human interactions. Here, people decide that they are perfect for each other because of the most artificial of reason; short-sightedness, nose bleeds and beautiful hair. Everything is played pitched perfectly to dry deliveries anchored by Colin Ferrell at his best. Oh, and if I was had to be turned into an animal I would be a turtle. They have a portable shelter and could be proficient on both land and water.
I took a B-movie class at SUNY (Inset NY state city here) and the films we saw was a mish mash of exploitation with some rising to the top with subtle feminist’s ideology. But, for most of them, they are pure sexploitation of the woman’s body. Anne Biller lovingly recreates this subgenre of 60’s sexploitation film to create the defining feminist statement of the year. Everything is so acutely detailed that you might get distracted by the immersion into the world. The colors are in technicolor splendor, the clothes are beautifully retro and the acting is purposefully stilted that requires levels of acting that Brad Pitt will never reach. Yet, underlying all this is a story of a woman, a witch, who because of societal pressures keeps changing to what a man wants. She is the fantasy of every man but no man ever becomes the subject of her fantasy. In a genre that is often defined by superficial satisfactions of the id, Biller is able to create a nuanced film while not only embracing all the idiosyncrasies of a form from a bygone age, but by upending them.
Movies that follows the day in the life of its protagonists that eventually leads to drunken screaming and crying
Blue Jay, Krisha
The way people get excited about Marvel Movies is the way I get excited by the latest Mark Duplass joint. His latest film is a micro-budget film with Sarah Paulson that follows the familiar trope of two people walking and talking for a day that had been perfected by Linklater in the “Before Trilogy.” But, what it does with that trope is create an intimate film about lost love that becomes unpredictable. You question why are two central characters are doing what they are doing until the end makes it crystal clear. “Blue Jay” deserves to be watched twice just for the nuances that Paulson is able to portray that will not be clear the first time through. As if anyone needs any reminder that Sarah Paulson was a great actress.
In another micro-budget indie, Trey Edward Shults’ first feature does not even have any actors of note in it. In fact, everyone in the film is played by members of his own family about a story that is based on events from his life. “Krisha” is truly a family affair. Everyone knows the anxiety of coming back home for a big family dinner. Here, Shults films it as if it was a sweeping epic film. The way Terrence Malick films the fields in “Days of Heaven,” is how Shults moves his camera through the big open house as Krisha comes back home after stints in rehab. To call Krisha self-destructive will be an understatement. Here Stults captures moments of family that feels too close to home. With specificity comes relatability; Krisha prepares herself before she goes into the house, children running around with no care for the adult conversations, courtesy small talks with family members who no one cares for. In the end, it is the conflict of hope and shame family has for Krisha that makes the film unforgettable.
Movies in which Adam Driver plays a character who is unsure of himself
Silence, Paterson
Quentin Tarantino has always said that he was afraid about the complacency old age might bring him with his directing. Well, Martin Scorsese has not grown complacent. With “Silence,” Scorsese proves to be as vibrant, self-reflexive and edgy as he was in the 70’s. This film will be the definitive mark of his greatness. “Silence,” is the nearly three-hour epic about Jesuit priests facing persecution for their faith in Japan. The film becomes a meditation of faith in all kinds of obstacles. And as an early-twenties American living in the 21st century with no religion to call my own, I identified with the plight of the people longing for Catholicism and the priests that bring them. Scorsese creates a total cinema that is more sensory than any artificial 4D can create. The theater melts away and you become immersed in 17th century Japan. The first two hours are physically brutal but the genius is with the emotionally brutal last hour when the form of storytelling changes, ending in a beautiful final shot.
Best dog of the year goes to the now departed Marvin, whose presence in “Paterson” puts him in the pantheon of great dogs in cinema alongside Toto and Uggie from “The Artist.” I don’t know how to explain this film to people except to say that it is the exactly what you expect from Jim Jarmusch. He has not made a film like this in a while; a poetic meditation of a bus driver in Paterson, New Jersey. Much of this film was influenced by the poetry of William Carlos Williams and the film moves like a poem. There is a structure but not a traditional story structure. The film ambles along like a NJ Transit bus and characters move in and out. Adam Driver as Paterson warns at one point, before he reads his poems, that it does not rhyme. I feel like I have to preface this film the same way. But, I like my films like that. Jarmusch instead populates the film with colorful characters, including a couple that cyclically fights and breaks up and a gang in a convertible warning about dog-jackers.
Documentaries that subvert the form
Kate Plays Christine, Cameraperson
I love meta explorations into the form of films and why we watch them. So, to see Robert Greene continue to question why people watch film while also making his audiences question what is real brings me pure bliss. Here, Greene follows actress Kate Lyn Sheil as she prepares to play Christine Chubbuck, a real-life reporter who committed suicide on live television in the 70’s. There is no role for Sheil, just the process. But, through the process in which we see her try to get into the head of a person who suffered through manic depression, Greene and Sheil begin to question our obsession with these figures. Chubbuck fought against the increasing exploitation of violence on the news and her senseless violence has since made her into a cult figure that has seen people desperately searching for the video of her death like it is the holy grail. It’s unclear what parts of “Kate Plays Christine” is real but the questions certainly are.
What we learn from that film and “Cameraperson” is the camera is inherently subjective. We see what the camera person wants us to see. And we know based on what images are put together and what sequence they come in. Kristen Johnson has been a longtime cinematographer for some of the greatest documentarians from Michael Moore to Laura Poitras. Through those films, she has saved plenty of footage and compiled a film that is a diary of sorts. Through the montage of out of context footage, we get a story of who Johnson is, despite the fact that we barely see Johnson. The only times we do is when she shows footage of her mom and she documents her struggles through Alzheimer’s. It is an amazing way of presenting self and highlighting the power of the form. Also, it is strangely satisfying to see the philosopher, Derrida, casually crossing a street in Manhattan.
Movies in which little trinkets given to the main character serves as important character development
Kubo and the Two Strings, American Honey
Laika takes a Studio Ghibli approach to filmmaking. Their films take time and persistence to make, not just because of their intricate animation style but because so much attention is put to little humane moments. Animation has the distinct advantage of being able to do the impossible, but the best of animation comes when the human moments are recreated amongst the impossible. “Kubo” is Laika’s crowning achievement in their young history and it is a shame that more people did not see it. It’s an exploration of grief and how people deal with it but it never stops being a children’s film. It achieves the sublime beauty of storytelling and art. This the type of movie that kids will be drawn to because of its beauty and action and watch again to realize the complexity of emotions it is tackling with. Here as an unnecessary dig, “Kubo and the Two Strings” does more for the genre of animation than all of Illumination films combine.
Rhianna is the soundtrack of youth. Last year the French film, “Girlhood” had the best use of “Diamonds” is a film when four young French girls lip-sync to it bathed in neon lights. Now, a bunch of runaways in Andrea Arnold’s “American Honey” does the same to “We Found Love” in a Midwestern grocery store. Rhianna is freedom. And “American Honey” is the truth. A somewhat divisive film, the film follows a magazine crew, a mish mash of reckless youths selling overpriced magazine subscriptions. Our protagonist is Star, played by a future star in Sasha Lane, as she decides to leave her constrained life to freedom with this band of merry people led by Riley Keough and Shia LaBeouf. The film wanders along with this crew who has no destination. Rather, the destination is a journey for Star as she achieves self-actualization through wandering across the American landscape. This is a life unknown to me, a pleasure to be in, and an aftertaste sweet as Tennessee honey.















