The prevailing wisdom about 2016 in the movies is that it was a bad year, but that might be overstating it. True, it's a step down from the highs of 2014 and 2015, and the summer season was catastrophic, but this year wasn't without its positive trends, and furthermore, even a lesser year isn't without its standout films. Here are the ten best which I saw.
The hardest part of compiling these lists is deciding what to leave off, so first, here's a handful of honourable mentions: the mesmerising docu-memoir Cameraperson, the clever neo-Western Hell or High Water, the hilarious adventure-comedy Hunt for the Wilderpeople, the intense stylistic exercise Krisha, the beautiful Disney animation Moana, and the superior documentaries Tower and Weiner.
And now: the top 10.
Arrival
dir. by Denis Villeneuve
Arrival is a film about communication and understanding, and while that makes it a wonderful tonic for a year as marked by division as this one, those themes would resonate regardless of year, especially as they relate to the first contact narrative. It's been a long time since the discovery of alien life has been depicted as benign on film, and that inherent fearfulness plays out in the anxieties of the periphery characters. Scenes of fear - and the steps the protagonists take to overcome it - define much of the film, but that only forms part of the emotional core of this clever bit of idea-driven sci-fi, and its focus on linguistics as an approach to first contact is not only ingenious on its own but allows the film to adopt the excitement of discovery alongside its themes about language and communication. Films with this blend of crowd-pleasing, conceptual intelligence, and human insight just doesn't come often enough.
The Handmaiden
dir. by Chan-wook Park
Above all else, Chan-wook Park is stylish. His latest film (and, admittedly, my first from him) is a twisty erotic thriller with a bottomless bag of tricks and a sharp sense of humour. It's a patient film, taking time to put its pieces into play, but once it pulls the rug out, it's as unpredictable as they come, and if the constant narrative trickery doesn't get you, the humour certainly will. The film builds a rhythm around sensuality and contrast, painting gorgeous scenery only to tarnish it, but it doesn't hold a single tone for long, navigating shifts with admirable grace which makes every scene just as exciting as the last, and this makes for two and a half hours which fly right by. Oh, and did I mention that the characters have genuine depth and emotion? The Handmaiden is no empty stylistic exercise, even though that would be way more than enough. It's a film of layers, each one more satisfying than the previous, and it is just fantastic.
Kubo and the Two Strings
dir. by Travis Knight
Kubo is something entirely different from Laika's usual sensibility, but it might be their greatest film to date. The gorgeous blend of stop-motion and CGI works wonders, and the epic, emotional adventure contained within is both emotionally rousing and very funny. Among other things, this is a story about the telling of stories, and how stories arise as a reflection of memory, but even the genuinely resonant themes - of which Kubo has many more - are nothing compared to the sheer magnificence of the animation. This is simply a delightful film to look at, and the visual splendour is held up by wonderful characters and a riveting journey through gorgeous scenery. Oh, and this has quite possibly the best action sequences of the year as well, so it also has that going for it.
The Lobster
dir. by Yorgos Lanthimos
While Hollywood movies can often seem like an endless parade of sequels and remakes, you can always expect the festival circuit to spit out something completely fresh and original. The Lobster takes place in a dystopian future where people without a romantic partner are sent to a hotel to find a mate or else be transformed into an animal of their choice. That level of absurdity is present all throughout the film, which derives huge laughs from contrasting ridiculous events with its dry, muted performances, while also providing strong commentary on the nature of relationships which only grows stronger once it reflects back on itself halfway through. Hilarious, insightful, and unlike anything you've seen before, this is the film to go to for anyone in need of something way different.
Manchester by the Sea
dir. by Kenneth Lonergan
The movies of 2016 depicted grief in a variety of ways, but none of them could touch the raw power of Manchester by the Sea, a film which takes that dull throbbing pain and blows it up to intimately epic proportions without melodrama. It's a very, very sad film, but it's also at times very funny. The film conveys grief as constant but not constantly overwhelming, always present in its characters even as they try to move past it and get on with their everyday lives. This is a portrait of people just trying to get by, continuing life in spite of all that has happened, and on the occasions that it erupts, it's as crushing and powerful as any film this year. Reconciliation with normal life is at the core here, and it's all anchored around Casey Affleck's incredibly powerful performance in the lead role, although the rest of the cast more than holds their own weight. There was not a more emotionally potent film last year.
Moonlight
dir. by Barry Jenkins
But that's not for lack of trying, of course. The intimate scope of Moonlight has been discussed countless times already, as has the important, underheard story at its centre. Still, it does bear repeating just how beautiful and moving this film is, taking on this important story of black masculinity through the rhythms of a cinematic tone poem. This is a film about the formation and then sublimation of identity, about a child whose exclusion in so many areas in his life has affected his development. It's the film's intimacy which really pushes it into greatness, fostering the emotions of its actors' faces, operating most powerfully on what's left unsaid. It's a movie which has stuck with me, and while I don't know if I absorbed the full weight of the final act on my first viewing, there's no film this year which I'm more eager to watch again.
O.J.: Made in America
dir. by Ezra Edelman
Seven hours of documentary, artfully edited. That time is enough to display a wide variety of angles and perspectives, and for this already crazy story to be edited with such purpose, and to create scenes of significant power simply from context, music, and archival footage, is as impressive as the level of detail it goes into in order to prove its thesis. Often, a documentary is only as good as its subject, but Made in America is a film first and foremost, and viewed purely as a work of art, it's able to succeed far beyond the boundaries of its subject, painting this case as a microcosm of the United States past and present, and finding new lifeblood in the subject by condensing years of information into interviews which are not only genuinely exciting to listen to, but which never fail to be deeply revealing about O.J., about justice in America, and even about the people delivering them. It's hard to imagine the genre of true-crime long-form documentaries genre topping this gargantuan accomplishment.
Toni Erdmann
dir. by Maren Ade
This actually isn't supposed to open here for a few weeks still, so I'm really glad to have seen it at the local film festival and be talking about it early. As it turns out, the secret to having an audience laugh consistently throughout your entire three-hour movie is to give them a break every once in a while. Toni Erdmann is hilarious, but it's also contemplative and emotional, immersing us in the worlds of its two protagonists to build empathy for them so that when the big set pieces arrive, they're not just gut-bustingly hilarious, they're also deeply cathartic. This balance of humour and melancholy tops even Manchester by the Sea, and if the balance was even slightly off, neither the funny nor the sad bits would work nearly as well as they do. It's a high-wire act which pays off in spades with one of the most emotionally affecting films of the year and by far the funniest. What a ride.
The Witch
dir. by Robert Eggers
This was a directorial debut, as hard as that is to believe. A mesmerising cocktail of ancient fears, looming dread, and religious paranoia, The Witch is as assured a horror film as any. It's unafraid to feature quiet stretches without conventional scares, which only builds the tension to an at times unbearable point, and in the meantime, we're given a window into the anxieties of frontier puritans who are trying to build a new life in the American backwoods. The movie's real brilliance stems from how it takes these people's fears of witchcraft and the unholy and literalizes it while also condemning them for their ignorance, leaving us to watch them pick each other apart, dying one by one, the victim of their own paranoia. This cultural background lends The Witch both atmosphere and thematic depth, and by the time the ending rolls around, the film has forged an identity which is all its own.
What were your favourite films of the year? Do you agree with my list? Do you think I missed anything? Let me know in the comments section!
You can also check out my review of Hidden Figures over at The Reflector.
And, if you want to support my work, be sure to support me on Patreon!
The hardest part of compiling these lists is deciding what to leave off, so first, here's a handful of honourable mentions: the mesmerising docu-memoir Cameraperson, the clever neo-Western Hell or High Water, the hilarious adventure-comedy Hunt for the Wilderpeople, the intense stylistic exercise Krisha, the beautiful Disney animation Moana, and the superior documentaries Tower and Weiner.
And now: the top 10.
dir. by Denis Villeneuve
Arrival is a film about communication and understanding, and while that makes it a wonderful tonic for a year as marked by division as this one, those themes would resonate regardless of year, especially as they relate to the first contact narrative. It's been a long time since the discovery of alien life has been depicted as benign on film, and that inherent fearfulness plays out in the anxieties of the periphery characters. Scenes of fear - and the steps the protagonists take to overcome it - define much of the film, but that only forms part of the emotional core of this clever bit of idea-driven sci-fi, and its focus on linguistics as an approach to first contact is not only ingenious on its own but allows the film to adopt the excitement of discovery alongside its themes about language and communication. Films with this blend of crowd-pleasing, conceptual intelligence, and human insight just doesn't come often enough.
dir. by Chan-wook Park
Above all else, Chan-wook Park is stylish. His latest film (and, admittedly, my first from him) is a twisty erotic thriller with a bottomless bag of tricks and a sharp sense of humour. It's a patient film, taking time to put its pieces into play, but once it pulls the rug out, it's as unpredictable as they come, and if the constant narrative trickery doesn't get you, the humour certainly will. The film builds a rhythm around sensuality and contrast, painting gorgeous scenery only to tarnish it, but it doesn't hold a single tone for long, navigating shifts with admirable grace which makes every scene just as exciting as the last, and this makes for two and a half hours which fly right by. Oh, and did I mention that the characters have genuine depth and emotion? The Handmaiden is no empty stylistic exercise, even though that would be way more than enough. It's a film of layers, each one more satisfying than the previous, and it is just fantastic.
dir. by Travis Knight
Kubo is something entirely different from Laika's usual sensibility, but it might be their greatest film to date. The gorgeous blend of stop-motion and CGI works wonders, and the epic, emotional adventure contained within is both emotionally rousing and very funny. Among other things, this is a story about the telling of stories, and how stories arise as a reflection of memory, but even the genuinely resonant themes - of which Kubo has many more - are nothing compared to the sheer magnificence of the animation. This is simply a delightful film to look at, and the visual splendour is held up by wonderful characters and a riveting journey through gorgeous scenery. Oh, and this has quite possibly the best action sequences of the year as well, so it also has that going for it.
La La Land
dir. by Damien Chazelle
La La Land is, first and most superficially, proof that Whiplash was not a fluke, but this is a very different movie with a much more romantic view of its leads and its world. This is a film about dreams and the sacrifices they require, about how one dream might come at the expense of another, and yet also about how dreams are worth pursuing because maybe, just maybe, they might come true one day. It's a joyous film, but it also often dips into downtempo emotions, and Chazelle navigates this tonal mixture masterfully, never letting the film's tempo lag. The gorgeous cinematography and exuberant tone are wonderful complements to the utterly phenomenal musical numbers, which deserve to win yet more awards than they already have - but this more than just a piece of musical performance, and even in its nonmusical stretches, La La Land positively shines.
dir. by Yorgos Lanthimos
While Hollywood movies can often seem like an endless parade of sequels and remakes, you can always expect the festival circuit to spit out something completely fresh and original. The Lobster takes place in a dystopian future where people without a romantic partner are sent to a hotel to find a mate or else be transformed into an animal of their choice. That level of absurdity is present all throughout the film, which derives huge laughs from contrasting ridiculous events with its dry, muted performances, while also providing strong commentary on the nature of relationships which only grows stronger once it reflects back on itself halfway through. Hilarious, insightful, and unlike anything you've seen before, this is the film to go to for anyone in need of something way different.
dir. by Kenneth Lonergan
The movies of 2016 depicted grief in a variety of ways, but none of them could touch the raw power of Manchester by the Sea, a film which takes that dull throbbing pain and blows it up to intimately epic proportions without melodrama. It's a very, very sad film, but it's also at times very funny. The film conveys grief as constant but not constantly overwhelming, always present in its characters even as they try to move past it and get on with their everyday lives. This is a portrait of people just trying to get by, continuing life in spite of all that has happened, and on the occasions that it erupts, it's as crushing and powerful as any film this year. Reconciliation with normal life is at the core here, and it's all anchored around Casey Affleck's incredibly powerful performance in the lead role, although the rest of the cast more than holds their own weight. There was not a more emotionally potent film last year.
dir. by Barry Jenkins
But that's not for lack of trying, of course. The intimate scope of Moonlight has been discussed countless times already, as has the important, underheard story at its centre. Still, it does bear repeating just how beautiful and moving this film is, taking on this important story of black masculinity through the rhythms of a cinematic tone poem. This is a film about the formation and then sublimation of identity, about a child whose exclusion in so many areas in his life has affected his development. It's the film's intimacy which really pushes it into greatness, fostering the emotions of its actors' faces, operating most powerfully on what's left unsaid. It's a movie which has stuck with me, and while I don't know if I absorbed the full weight of the final act on my first viewing, there's no film this year which I'm more eager to watch again.
dir. by Ezra Edelman
Seven hours of documentary, artfully edited. That time is enough to display a wide variety of angles and perspectives, and for this already crazy story to be edited with such purpose, and to create scenes of significant power simply from context, music, and archival footage, is as impressive as the level of detail it goes into in order to prove its thesis. Often, a documentary is only as good as its subject, but Made in America is a film first and foremost, and viewed purely as a work of art, it's able to succeed far beyond the boundaries of its subject, painting this case as a microcosm of the United States past and present, and finding new lifeblood in the subject by condensing years of information into interviews which are not only genuinely exciting to listen to, but which never fail to be deeply revealing about O.J., about justice in America, and even about the people delivering them. It's hard to imagine the genre of true-crime long-form documentaries genre topping this gargantuan accomplishment.
dir. by Maren Ade
This actually isn't supposed to open here for a few weeks still, so I'm really glad to have seen it at the local film festival and be talking about it early. As it turns out, the secret to having an audience laugh consistently throughout your entire three-hour movie is to give them a break every once in a while. Toni Erdmann is hilarious, but it's also contemplative and emotional, immersing us in the worlds of its two protagonists to build empathy for them so that when the big set pieces arrive, they're not just gut-bustingly hilarious, they're also deeply cathartic. This balance of humour and melancholy tops even Manchester by the Sea, and if the balance was even slightly off, neither the funny nor the sad bits would work nearly as well as they do. It's a high-wire act which pays off in spades with one of the most emotionally affecting films of the year and by far the funniest. What a ride.
dir. by Robert Eggers
This was a directorial debut, as hard as that is to believe. A mesmerising cocktail of ancient fears, looming dread, and religious paranoia, The Witch is as assured a horror film as any. It's unafraid to feature quiet stretches without conventional scares, which only builds the tension to an at times unbearable point, and in the meantime, we're given a window into the anxieties of frontier puritans who are trying to build a new life in the American backwoods. The movie's real brilliance stems from how it takes these people's fears of witchcraft and the unholy and literalizes it while also condemning them for their ignorance, leaving us to watch them pick each other apart, dying one by one, the victim of their own paranoia. This cultural background lends The Witch both atmosphere and thematic depth, and by the time the ending rolls around, the film has forged an identity which is all its own.
What were your favourite films of the year? Do you agree with my list? Do you think I missed anything? Let me know in the comments section!
You can also check out my review of Hidden Figures over at The Reflector.
And, if you want to support my work, be sure to support me on Patreon!
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