As the final year in a decade notable for simultaneously expanding indie distribution through A24, introducing the great streaming wars between Netflix, Amazon and more, as well as suffocating general audiences with an onslaught of sequels, reboots, and of course Marvel films, 2019 was an exceptional year in cinema. It was a complex and ultimately satisfying year, pushing towards more ethnic representation and gender diversity than ever before. It also, at its best (and hopefully represented in the list below), bridged the gap and subsequently solved the cinema and amusement park ride debate, proving a film can be both. 2019 expressed intimate emotions and ideas spread elegantly across an entertaining canvas, featuring four little women, three gangster icons, 2 sparring New York/LA socialites, and of course, one angry jew. In other words, it had it all. As all active years go, this could have easily been a detailed list of 20 films or more, but a top 10 dilutes the best of the year into a truly diverse and memorable collection. Honorable mentions (in no particular order): Transit, Pain and Glory, Little Women, High Flying Bird, Ash is the Purest White, Her Smell, Toy Story 4, The Farewell, and Marriage Story. See my full 2019 ranked list here.
10. A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick, 2019)
“…the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” -George Eliot
He’s back! After decades with work as prolific as a world war, Terrence Malick has seemed to lose a step in recent years, diving headfirst into expressionistic dance art pieces with no narrative focus. However, Malick’s A Hidden Life is a grandiose return to form, combining a wrenching tale of martyrdom in the Second World War with his usual trademarks, including sensitive diegetic sound design and lush imagery. Among my Mount Rushmore of favorite directors, Malick stands apart at the top, and it more of a reflection of his quality as a director than of the year itself that the weakest film I have seen from him is a top 10 film of the year. It moves swiftly from Sirk melodrama to haunting wartime thriller, wide shots of the Swiss fields juxtaposed with lonely close-ups of men in chains. It is long, exhausting, and even frustrating, yet in the end, it is one of the most pivotal films of the year by an artist who rarely makes anything but. Malick’s penchant for lengthy montages with straightforward Oscar-bait may seem curious, but here it is swoon-worthy.
You can read PJ Knapke’s full review of A Hidden Life here.
9. Dragged Across Concrete (S. Craig Zahler, 2019)
“In this world, every man wants to become a lion.”
Usually, I am a reasonably even-keeled reviewer. If a film has universal raves, I like it! If a movie has poor reviews, I dislike it! Pretty simple, right? Dragged Across Concrete opened with a modicum of mixed-to positive review, most of which were concerned with the film’s tumultuous right-wing politics. Zahler, a known Republican, famous for his gritty dialogue and pulpy grind-house films, continues to elevate his prose and low-art style. The first time, I found this to be a highly watchable hang-out masterpiece, with expansive plotting and original characters, the type of slow-burn that in the ’70s would be on a double bill only to later become a cult classic. On a second watch, I found this to be rife with melancholy, Zahler writing his heros not as indestructible right-wing soldiers, yet rather filled with pity and regret. In the end, the two protagonists perish in a fire-fight with the soulful antagonist, revealing himself to be the protagonist all along. Dragged Across Concrete is brave filmmaking filled with the type of grand storytelling that can only happen on a shoe-string budget.
8. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Céline Sciamma, 2019)
“In solitude, I felt the liberty you spoke of. But I also felt your absence.”
The power of film can come from anticipating a new film from an acclaimed director, but equally to discover a brand new filmmaker and instantly fall in love. Céline Sciamma, known for Indies such as Girlhood and Tomboy, curates her masterpiece, a slow burn of picturesque desire and lust. I’ve always been interested in a raw portrait about the start of a relationship, one not befallen with cliches and didactic writing. In Portrait of Lady on Fire, Sciamma writes her characters with such specificity that you believe you are watching two real people fall in love over time, culminating in one of the most romantic and heartbreaking films of the year.
You can read Armon Mahdavi’s full review of Portrait of a Lady on Fire here.
7. The Souvenir (Joanna Hogg, 2019)
“You would be a terrible landlord. I am a terrible landlord.”
I could easily cut and paste my review for Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and my impressions would largely remain the same. The only distinction is that while both are romantic two-handers with a specific combination between character and setting, The Souvenir is more about the natural destruction of a relationship while also building a foundation to form an elegant and woeful coming-of-age picture. It is the combination of these two elements that ultimately make this among the best of the year. As the protagonist Julie, played by Tilda Swinton’s daughter, moves from the pleasure and pains of growing up, her significant other Anthony, played by a scene-stealing Tom Burke, portrays an ethereal presence on screen and off. When he is on screen, its a relationship filled with frustration and off-kilter love. When he is off, it is a relationship filled with emptiness and a tragic, inevitable decline into the difficulties of young love and finding your own identity. The Souvenir is a dry British masterwork.
6. High Life (Claire Denis, 2019)
“Shall we? Yes.”
The film that was my number one for the majority of the year, High Life was my introduction to the unique and distinct work of French filmmaker Claire Denis. What I got was unlike any other film I saw this year: a horror movie set upon a prison space ship about the decline of the moral individual on a global scale, synthesizing euro artistic influences with a study on humanity’s cyclical self-destruction. Denis specially chooses her inmates as portraits of the world, from obsessive women to violent men. Even the protagonist Monte, of whom Denis flirts with the moral background frequently throughout the film, is revealed to be guilty of the crime he committed. Denis emphasizes sex, violence, but above all else, rebirth – a fitting image a film filled with dread and despair. And yet, that’s precisely what makes High Life so special. I’ll always remember the tender moments between Andre 3000’s Tcherny in the garden or even the film’s final image – a father and a daughter caressing each other as they wait for oblivion, synthesizing time and space into a final image so powerful that it somehow makes all the craziness worth it.
5. Parasite (Bong Joon-Ho, 2019)
“Dad, today I made a plan – a fundamental plan. I’m going to earn money, a lot of it. University, a career, marriage, those are all fine, but first I’ll earn money. When I have money, I’ll buy the house. On the day we move in, Mom and I will be in the yard. Because the sunshine is so nice there. All you’ll need to do is walk up the stairs. Take care until then. So long.”
Probably the film of the year. As I said in the introduction, I believe the best films of the year bridge the gap between high art and high entertainment, and no other movie perfectly represents that than Parasite. It moves between genres with ease, unfolding upon a first watch one of the scariest and timeliest films of the year, whether as a heist film or domestic comedy or even a horror extravaganza with class warfare and rife symbolism sprinkled in. It’s the type of film that is so meticulous and slick with perfectionism that it might even be considered off-putting. Yet Bong’s filmmaking worked on me, his love of movies clearly present whether through Hitchcock’s plotting or even Spielberg’s earnest storytelling, all in service of telling a timely picture filled with comfort, humor, and blood. And just like the many films on this list, the ending is a knockout, with a sequence so shocking, tender, and hopeful that it left me bowled over by the time I left the theater.
You can read Joe Lollo’s full review of Parasite here and listen to UW Film Club’s podcast on Parasite here.
4. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino, 2019)
“Don’t cry in front of the Mexicans.”
One of two major late-career films in my top 5 the year, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is a borderline triumph from one of cinema’s most famous auteurs over the past 30 years. As we end the decade, it is only fitting that Tarantino finally makes a nostalgic passion-project about his childhood, filled with melancholy reverence and loud applause. The ending fight may be classic Quentin, but what comes 2 hours before is a patient, rewarding picture about the decline of old Hollywood and a person’s role left to play in it. It is his most borderline avant-garde film, with lengthy sequences trimmed in most studio films. Pitt’s nighttime drive to Deep Purple’s Hush remains one of the most splendid moments of the year, a nighttime driving scene that fully envelops the audience in the world of the late ’60s, showing off the year’s best production design. Later in the film, Tarantino films an extended take of two best friends watching an episode of FBI, voiceover playing in full as the whole scene plays out uncut, recreating an entire episode opening. But what comes near the end of the film is one of the best pieces of cinema I have ever seen, a short yet powerful sequence in which famous LA restaurants and establishments open for business, neon lights beaming across downtown LA’s hazy purple skies. It is such a distinct, soulful piece of nostalgiac cinema. I will never forget it. As Al Pacino says early on in the film, “What a picture.”
You can read Jim Saunders’ full review of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood here and listen to UW Film Club’s podcast on Once Upon a Time in Hollywood here.
3. Uncut Gems (Josh and Benny Safdie, 2019)
“This is how I win.”
It’s rare for your most anticipated film of the year to meet expectations, let alone exceed them, and yet Uncut Gems delivers. More than that, after Good Time, the Safdie Brothers follow up their 2017 hit with an expansive character actor opera and the best performance of the year standing right in the middle. Sandler, in his second noticeable dramatic role in his career, is nothing short of outstanding. Rather than lose his typical comedic timing, Sandler uses it to extrapolate pathos for a seedy gambler who continually chases the next big hit. It’s in irrational character only made likable by Sandler’s god-tier performance. However, what makes Uncut Gems so extraordinary isn’t the central character but the detail in which the Safdie brothers and Ronald Bronstein write the supporting characters. Each tells a specific mini subplot in Ratner’s hectic and tragic life, whether it’s through Julia Fox’s earnest mistress or Eric Bogosian’s uneasy debtor. The whole film is a thrilling escalation of bad choices, broken bets and failed amends. It is all both gratifying and heartbreaking, resulting in one of the best 3rd acts of the modern millennium – a 2012 playoff Celtics game. Once the climax hits and Uncut Gems closes the thematic loop on its version of a modern-day Shakespearean tragedy, I realized this movie was made just for me.
You can read Ryan Circelli’s full review of Uncut Gems here.
2. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese, 2019)
“It’s what it is.”
Similar to Tarantino’s masterpiece, The Irishman is a distant late-career film, deconstructing the famous works of the greatest American filmmaker of all time. It is, of course, a riot of gangster entertainment, yet like any great piece of self-reflexive cinema, also somber, culminating in a desolate funeral tale of regret and aging. The three famous actors that set the stage have never been better, yet it is Pesci’s quiet work that stands out. After a career filled with testy little men with short tempers, here he plays his scariest character, directly affecting the morals of the men that surround him without ever lifting a finger. And of course, the declining morals of the three aging men is what Scorsese chooses to focus on. However, rather than their actions, he focuses on the aftermath, whether through DeNiro’s heartbreaking phone call with Hoffa’s wife or Peggy Sheeran’s wordless look of disdain towards her father’s hidden actions. But it is in the film’s final shot that ultimately relays all of Scorsese’s 3 and half hour epic intentions into a quick dagger of the heart – an image of a man staring at the door, waiting for someone to enter, and no one coming. The Irishman isn’t just one of the years best. It’s one of Scorsese’s best, full stop.
You can read Ryan Circelli’s full review of The Irishman here.
1. Ad Astra (James Gray, 2019)
“We’re all we’ve got.”
Ad Astra is the closest I’ve come to see a true masterpiece all year. It is a film that is more flawed than all of the previous four movies combined with all the subtext of a Stephen King novel, and yet rather acting as on the nose, Ad Astra IS the nose. Brad Pitt delivers one of his most essential performances in a career full of them, finally going full circle into an austere character actor. Hoyte Van Hoytema lenses the prettiest film of the year, shooting a stark contrast between the beauty of space and the desolate interiors that befall it. But above all else, in a decade that is known for the rampant destruction of integrity by the Hollywood studio system, James Gray directs a 90 million dollar art house film that channels Malick and Tarkovsky more than it does Feige. It’s filled with the best damn set pieces this year hands down, a Mad-Max lunar set piece, and a zero-gravity knife fight included. The emotional undercurrents and blatant earnestness gut me straight to the heart. On a night in which America is most likely going to war with Iran, General Roy’s earnest one-liner to his father is my line of the year. “We’re all we’ve got.” The infernal rage of hereditary toxic masculinity burns bright, but Ad Astra is ultimately about the absence of God in a universe without a moral compass. Without God, space is nothing but silence. And in a world filled with silence, someone has to speak up.
You can read PJ Knapke’s full review of Ad Astra here.
