The 2010’s were an exceptionally strong decade for cinema – a statement I stand by despite my inherent bias of only being 19 years old. Nevertheless, 2019 in particular was a notably mature and forbearing bookend to this madcap 10 years. We witnessed the solidification of Netflix and other streaming services as legitimate entertainment enterprises for original content that bridged the gap between the arthouse and barn-burning event cinema. Furthermore, blockbusters became more introspective, A24 dominated the independent film scene, rising filmmakers blessed us with their unique vision, and even the most legendary directors of our generation released their best works to date. With all that praise behind me, let’s give a shoutout to some films I adored that didn’t quite make the prestigiously difficult cut this year. Those include The Farewell, The Lighthouse, Waves, The Last Black Man in San Francisco, Jojo Rabbit, High Life, Midsommar, Avengers: Endgame and Rocketman. I highly recommend all of the aforementioned films, and without further ado, here are my top 10 favorites of 2019 đ
10. Hustlers (Lorene Scafaria, 2019)
Inspired by the New York magazine article “The Hustlers at Scores”, Hustlers is a cautionary tale of a group of strip club employees who sought to swindle their Wall Street clients during the backdrop of the 2008 financial crisis; it demonstrates the hazardous yet seemingly necessary trek towards economic freedom, and how easy it is to lose oneâs sense of reality once youâre at the top. But itâs also incredibly liberating, sexy, and exuberant, giving the control back to the women in a world where men decide the value of their work. Jennifer Lopez, in her undoubtably greatest performance yet, revels in the allure and danger of the hustle, gracing the screen with her raw power. Greatly influenced but not at all defined by the work of Scorsese, Hustlers is the most surprising grand slam of 2019.
You can read Cynthia Li’s full review of Hustlers here.
9. Ad Astra (James Gray, 2019)
What can so strongly compel someone to take the leap into the infinite void of space? Is it for the collective intelligence, heroism, and betterment of mankind? As the film’s Latin translation indicates, Ad Astra seeks to answer these questions and explore the psyche of a man on his journey “to the stars”, as Major Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is plagued by the numbness that brings him geographically closer to his estranged father, while tragically becoming that same man he resents in the process of traveling perpetually deeper into the cosmos. Brad Pitt’s restrained performance perfectly encapsulates the irony of a man brave enough to blast himself through the dark unknown, yet is cowardly in the face of emotion and genuine connection. It’s through such a juxtaposition that not only is Ad Astra a brazen takedown of toxic masculinity, but one of the most unique, most reflexive sci-fi films of the decade. Though it contains brief flourishes of idiosyncratic genre-related embellishments (a low gravity speeder chase, Subway on the moon?), this is about as earnest and deeply human as contemporary science fiction gets.
You can read PJ Knapke’s full review of Ad Astra here.
8. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino, 2019)
2019 was the year I discovered how much I admire Quentin Tarantino. I love his frenetic action sequences, his genre film homages, and above all else, his unwavering passion for the medium. In Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, he seeks to revel in his revisionist history pastiche of late-60’s era Los Angeles, cruising down at a breezy 30 mph, soaking in the atmosphere of a seemingly simpler time. Tarantino’s nostalgic 9th film ultimately culminates in his typical explosion of violence, but it’s paralleled with the most sanguine of “what-ifs?” – one that among further inquiry rings true to be one of the most bittersweet and beautiful closing scenes of the year. Let your guard down, and this film becomes blissful escapism.
You can read my 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.
7. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach, 2019)
To quote my Letterboxd review, “at its core, Marriage Story is a story of imperfection – imperfection that manifests itself through miscommunication, selfish tendencies, and, at its most harrowing, in the hurt we inflict on the ones we love the most. And itâs a damn near perfect film.”
It’s a film that starts an ends with love – a love that wavers yet never truly diminishes, just morphs into its own imperfect beast. Unflinchingly honest and emotionally wrecking, Marriage Story showcases Adam Driver and Scarlet Johannson at their most vehement. Drenched in verisimilitude to the point where, without even knowing about writer/director Noah Baumbach’s divorce, or having experienced divorce oneself, this feels about as real as it gets. Absolutely devastating, but you can’t help but watch from the sidelines.
You can read Maddie McDougall’s full review of Marriage Story here.
6. Knives Out (Rian Johnson, 2019)
I will never not stand by my “hot take” that I believe Star Wars: The Last Jedi is one of the greatest, most audacious blockbusters of the decade, let alone the century. Needless of what one has to say about the borderline inconclusive sequel trilogy of Star Wars films, I’ll always thank Disney for the creative liberties allotted to Johnson, even at the risk of isolating a precariously divisive fanbase. Ironically enough, Knives Out, Johnson’s own Agatha Christie homage with a modern subversion, is his most safe film to date, but that’s not to discredit his phenomenal work here. Knives Out is meticulous and subtle, not because of its inherently political message, but more so due to how each character deals with the truth behind that message and how that plays into traditional “whodunnit” conventions (twists, turns, betrayals, etc.). Johnson has crafted an insanely smart script, and without divulging into spoilers, Knives Out features an absurdly effective cast, with Ana De Armas as the true shining star of the bunch. The knives are out!
You can read Rohan Patel’s full review of Knives Out here.
5. Uncut Gems (Josh and Benny Safdie, 2019)
The stage is set in Uncut Gems onto a mine in Ethiopia, two men discover a black opal encased in a piece of rock. As the camera pans closer, the gem taunts the audience with its natural beauty. We witness the gem transform from a solid, to a vibrant gas cloud, to a tubular cavernous patch, to Howard Ratner’s (Adam Sandler’s) colon. Though they’re a series of seemingly incongruent images, it’s somehow a perfect thesis to Ratner as a character: what he chases is what becomes of him. (Without spoilers, it also sets up a genius piece of dramatic irony.) And thus begins the catastrophic, anxiety-riddled ride that is Uncut Gems, where Ratner’s dependence on the opal sends him on a spiral of poor choices that erodes his already dicey familial ties. I can’t imagine any other performance this year for an actor as fitting as Adam Sandler filling the shoes of a sleazy, charismatic gambling addict. An endlessly captivating tragedy of greed and punishment.
You can read Ryan Circelli’s full review of Uncut Gems here.
4. Little Women (Greta Gerwig, 2019)
Jo, Meg, Amy, and Beth. Four (little) women, each with their own goals, each with their own destinies, all attempting to forge their own names in the history books. And I adored watching their journeys unfold. Greta Gerwig infuses Louisa May Alcott’s text with incredible grace and beauty; if Lady Bird was her leaving her mark as a writer, Little Women is her leaving her mark as a true auteur. It’s like the cinematic equivalent of a warm embrace with an old friend after a long while – it’s sweet, comforting, and that innate emotional longing is ever present. In the same vein, the film brilliantly displays a non-linear narrative between the past and present, with the former representing the warmth and vivacity of nostalgia. There’s a palpable vitality and relevance to Little Women – its mellow heart will gently beat for generations to come.
You can read Stephanie Chuang’s full review of Little Women here.
3. Honey Boy (Alma Har’el, 2019)
Honey Boy pulled me through the wringer and hung me out to dry, leaving me with a sorrowful introspection I rarely experience in a film as short as this is. There’s something so poetic about Shia Labeouf playing his father in a film about the currents of generational trauma. Where Marriage Story explored the complex emotions intertwined within a spousal relationship, Honey Boy does the same with parental relationships. Despite all the hurt, you can’t help but love them, and you can’t help but need them. Its semi-autobiographical nature provides a meta-narrative that is somehow just as intensely cathartic for the audience as it is for Shia himself. A cinematic act of bravery that does so much with so little.
You can read Maddie McDougall’s full review of Honey Boy here.
2. Parasite (Bong Joon-Ho, 2019)
Despite it’s ranking at #2 here, Parasite is undeniably the best film of 2019. More so than any other foreign film this decade, it’s managed to amass a large American following, some of which are typically averse to the “one inch tall barrier”. Nonetheless, Parasite is an absolute blast. It’s a meticulous, operatic, and technically flawless film that manages to be more than the sum of its parts, even when each part that comprises it holistically is already perfect as is.
When thinking about Parasite, my mind always goes back to the scene where the Kim family is desperately attempting to grab their belongings from their flooded half basement home. Ki-Jung, climbing to the top of the bathroom, witnesses bursts of water rapidly sputtering out of their toilet, and the shot immediately following is a “Kuleshov effect” moment, with a toilet seat being closed in the Park family house. On my initial watch of the film, that was the exact moment when the themes of the film clicked for me. The Park’s, like many affluent families, are not overtly “evil”, but rather, are completely ignorant to how their actions are inadvertently affecting the Kim’s. It’s symbolic of a much larger class divide, and to me, that’s arguably just as frightening, and immensely more real. If two shots of a toilet are enough to make me think “that’s genius”, then the film must be pretty damn special.
You can read Joe Lollo’s full review of Parasite here and listen to UW Film Club’s podcast on Parasite here.
1. A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick, 2019)
As of the time I’m drafting this feature, I have seen no other films from acclaimed director Terrence Malick, and I realize now how much I’ve been doing myself a disservice. A Hidden Life is a revelation – it’s yet another WW2 drama on paper, but in grand scope, it not only recognizes the horrors of war as being both the inherent violence and loss of life, but also the overwhelming sense of isolation associated with being on the right side of history at the wrong time. There’s a constant battle of faith; faith in God, faith in one’s moral compass, and faith that at the end of this life, their efforts would all have been worth it. A Hidden Life is a superbly poignant love letter to those who, in the face of adversity and evil didn’t just stand idly by, yet still disappeared from the earth without a trace. Unsung heroes, this one’s for you.
You can read PJ Knapke’s full review of A Hidden Life here.
