#((i can FINALLY show this piece off! its my favorite demon portrait)) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tothemeadow · 4 years ago

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at least I’m trying

➜ pairing: rengoku kyoujuro x reader ➜ warnings: struggling with addiction, blood, death, angst with happy ending. ➜ words: 5k ➜ a/n: i post more of my works at @thgreatestblue!

@redgokus hi!! i worked very hard on this piece and i’m very pleased with how it turned out. i hope you like it as well!! happy holidays! ❤

summary: Smoking was almost like breathing underwater. Not that you didn’t feel like you have been drowning all your life. A gentle hand is all it takes for you to finally realize that maybe staying underwater wasn’t the best option.

The night was cold as the winter was right around the corner - the landscape changing ever so slowly but gradually. When you first came here, the flowers were blooming and growing strong in the garden while the bees flew by each one of them. The colors of the spring painted a beautiful portrait, making the scenery more lively than ever. The soil was a healthy shade of brown and the grass around the State was as soft as your feet could tell.

Mitsuri Kanroji was kind enough to let you stay. After she saved you from a Demon attack, you were brought to her house, and she took you under her wing - since there was nowhere and no one for you to return to. She had been so overwhelmingly kind and thoughtful of you - taking care of your injuries every day, cooking your favorite food - that to retribute her generosity, you decided to join the Demon Slayer Corps.

However, the memory still lingered like bad perfume. You father shielding you from demonic claws that attacked you two one night when coming back from the restaurant he used to work. All you can remember is the strong scent of cigarettes coming from him as he hugged you one last time.

And maybe that’s why you ended up here. With a cigarette between your lips, gazing at the sky on a peaceful night. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds as the atmosphere darkened without its shine. Smoking was almost like breathing underwater. Not that you didn’t feel like you have been drowning all your life.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

A strong and very familiar voice comes from beside you - making you curse internally. His tone wasn’t particularly angry, but the indication was there. You turn your head to the left, lifting your body from the wall you were leaning on to face the owner of that voice - who has been on your mind more often than you would like to admit. The Flame Pillar was standing at the entrance of the house, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you.

And you could swear every time he looked at you when there was a cigarette between your lips, his eyes would darken to a different shade – as if he was trying to burn the devil on your tongue through sheer power of his stare.

Sometimes, you wondered if that was even possible. Sometimes, like today, you were sure of it.

“If it’s going to put your heart at peace,” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your voice; it was almost like second nature by now, building walls around as soon as someone tried to take a look inside - and truth be told, it was quite a mess. You slowly blow the smoke out your mouth and nose, “I don’t do this frequently.”

Mitsuri’s State was one of the most frequented by the Pillars, since she was friends with probably all of them. Her personality was bubbly and sweet, it was easy to be around her - that’s why you had stayed in the first place. It was common to see them coming and going, mostly Obanai, Shinobu and Kyojuro.

Kyojurou’s bushy brows furrowed deeper. It wasn’t the first time you threw snarky comments like that at him. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you smoking either. Though, every time; without failing, he would hold his intense stare at you for a few seconds, a disapproving look written all over his face.

You would just shrug it off; making sure to take another drag before fiercely returning his stare with the same intensity. Sometimes he would look away first, sometimes you did. Although it was easy, pretending it didn’t turn your stomach all over and made you sick – thinking you didn’t have his respect - it still burned your wounds like fresh water.

This was the first time he decided to speak his mind, though.

“What about your lungs?” He asks, stepping closer to where you are standing, eyes fixed on your hand that is holding the cigarette. Something twists inside you, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t every day that a Pillar - the Flame Pillar above everyone else - would step in your personal space with accusing eyes that burned holes in your face. “It’s going to damage your breathing.”

You shift from one foot to another, looking anywhere but at the man who was right beside you now. Not that it made any difference; Kyojurou had a strong aura surrounding his being - it was overwhelming - the way he was graced with such a powerful presence and unshakeable will. The air is thick around you; the warmth of his body is noticeable even though there is a small distance between you two.

Out of habit, you bring your hand towards your mouth for another drag. Anything to numb the confusing anxiety; the rise of your heartbeats, the heat on your neck that spreads to your cheeks that intensifies every second that his attention is on you.

Before you could reach your mouth though, Kyojuro stops you, holding your wrist midway. It sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t back off; nor let it show how a single touch from him made you react so intensely.

“I’m going to die before facing the issue that comes with smoking, Flame Pillar.” You challenge him by trying to shake your hand off his grip, but it’s firm and strong, imprinting the heat of his big fingers on your bare skin. You knew you weren’t going to forget the feeling of his hands so soon; after all, fire always leaves imprints.

“What?” Finally looking at him, still annoyed by his interference but not exactly angry. It was a mix of feelings you didn’t want to separate and catalog just yet.

Kyojuro’s golden and beautiful eyes stare at you with a piercing gaze; you don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. This close, you catch a hint of red at the seams of his iris that you’ve never noticed before - you have never been mere inches from his face before as well.

You can’t help but stare at him in return, silence falling between you two. His eyes burn bright against the dark of the night, consuming you all together. Kyojuro gently takes the cigarette from your fingers with his other hand and throws it on the ground, making sure to step on it to make his point as clear as water.

You take a long breath, running your free hand through your hair, all this situation making you even more nervous. “You know I have more cigarettes with me, right?”

He sighs but doesn’t look resigned. Yet. For a second, you think he’s going to back off and continue on his way. Instead, he takes a deep and long breath, squeezing your wrist so slightly that if you weren’t so self aware of his touch you wouldn’t have noticed. Your heart skips another beat.

“I’ve seen what addiction does to someone,” Kyojuro speaks, almost like a whisper; making you shiver with his lower tone, so close to you. Something crosses his eyes, a hint of sadness dripping down onto his words. “I would hate to see you going down that path.”

You swallow down, throat suddenly going dry. It wasn’t a secret, at least between the Pillars, that his father was addicted to alcohol; one of the reasons why he had dropped from the positions a few years ago. It wasn’t a secret that his wife’s death was such a low blow that never allowed Kyojuro’s father to get on his feet ever again.

Mitsuri once said he had become a shell of himself, slowly drowning in his own grief between each bottle of alcohol. He had become a bitter man, nothing could make him happy, not even seeing his own child becoming a strong soldier, worthy enough to take his place. What once was pride and joy now was aches from a flame that burned too bright but lost its power too soon.

Was Kyojuro worried that you would take the same path? Was he looking after you all this time, hoping he could change at least your fate? Does he truly care about you?

The back of your neck burns hot with the thought, your cheeks following after. The mere thought of Kyojuro thinking; worrying; looking after you is enough to send you to a dangerous place where you never dared putting a single foot on it.

“I can stop whenever I want.” You look away, defeated.

“Then do it.” Kyojuro encourages you, almost pleading. He cups your hand between his, the warmth of it is pleasing, soothing. “If not for you, do it for me.”

It’s almost comical how fast your eyes met his again, mind going blank with the request. If you were going to say something, you don’t know anymore. The only sound you can hear comes from your own heart, rapidly beating in your chest - and you hoped Kyojuro couldn’t hear them. If it wasn’t for his pinning stare and the weight of his calloused hands tenderly holding yours, you would be gone in a minute.

Actually, you don’t know for how long you stayed there - lost on a trip to the sun. Where the golden rays burned your skin, stripped you down to the bone. Igniting an old purpose, almost faded from your memory - now catching fire and spreading throughout your whole being.

He offers you a gentle smile, one that you can’t help but reciprocate, small and weak but as gentle. Kyojuro squeezes your hand one more time before letting go. You don’t want to admit, but his touch still lingers like a fresh burn scar, one that you would gladly ask for more.

Only when you watch him walk away, you notice you weren’t breathing.

It’s a different type of drowning, you decide.

II.

You didn’t mean to. You really didn’t.

However, it happened. And now you felt like a complete idiot. The words came out of your mouth before you could slow them down, before you could chew them, making it easy to digest. A rampage you didn’t see it coming, which made everything worse.

It’s been two weeks since you stopped smoking. And even though you tried to convince yourself that you could do it at any given time; it turned out to be a far more difficult task than killing Demons. And above everything else, the lingering feeling that your father was slowly disappearing from your memories was something you couldn’t take.

In the first few days it was quite easy; ignoring the way your body asked for just a simple drag. The way your mind started to play tricks with you, demanding a cigarette between your lips. Words of self-loathing, degradation; depressed thoughts that were a rarity; clouded by the smoke. Now, they were being whispered in your mind constantly - there wasn’t a barrier to stop them anymore.

The chatter started to become louder, progressively making your mood worse each day that you chose to not open your father’s small metal case filled with cigarettes before heading out to work. Not having something to hold on to, to distract yourself when an innocent life was taken, when blood dripped down your katana, when the sun would take too long to appear in the sky again - it was too much. The smell was the worst part, once clogged by the scent of nicotine, now was hitting your nostrils like a bullet – another barrier gone, leaving you out in the open.

You hadn’t noticed until now how smoking had become a part of your routine - part of who you were. How much you felt safe in the arms of the addiction. It helped you go through your job without problem, without a second thought. However, now you felt like a veil had lifted from your eyes, and you could see the world less misty, less foggy at the seams.

You weren’t sure if that was a good sign. Actually, no. It wasn’t.

The shakiness of your hands began to make it difficult to hold your katana. More often than not you found yourself missing the target, your eyes playing tricks with your vision, the anxiety taking over your body. A thin thread was the only thing holding your patience and self-control all together.

Until Mitsuri pointed out your strange behavior that night. Although you knew she hadn’t meant to call you out; you were on the verge of a dilemma you didn’t want to be. Trying each day to stay clean was starting to seem impossible at this point. Anger and annoyance were bubbling inside you, every day waking up with a headache because you couldn’t sleep; having to deal with fatigue throughout the night - the thoughts about your father were driving you to the edge.

All it took was a small push for you to dive in. And the commentary - even though unharmful - was enough to finally push you into the abyss. Irritated, something inside you snapped, making you shout things you didn’t mean to, but came out of your own mouth anyway. Remembering the look on her face was enough to make you cry.

“Damn it!” The punch on the wall wasn’t enough to distract you from the growing conflict inside you. Dawn was coming soon enough but the night was still a nightmare.

Smoking never bothered you, so why were you trying anyway? Why were you going through this torture if it wasn’t a problem to begging with? Everything was fine, you were doing fine. So why were you putting yourself through such pain and regret; when the only thing you got from this was even more problems?

You don’t think twice before grabbing the small metal case from your pocket. Even though you stopped smoking, you still carried it with you, it was enough to bring relief on days that the chatter in your head was too loud – having something to ground yourself in reality again.

With shaking hands, you open the case. There were still a few cigarettes inside, and like you did countless times, you picked one. The familiarity of the acts brings a sense of melancholy; putting the cigarette between your lips, lighting up the match.

However, this time you hesitate. The weight of the cigarette on your lips is heavy. The warmth of the fire next to your face isn’t as welcoming as it used to be. It was like coming back home but finding out that it’s empty, there’s nothing you can hold onto to make it better.

You stare at the flames; the fire flicks with the wind, dancing between your fingers as it burns down the match. Still, you don’t light the cigarette. Dawn reflects on the embers and it reminds of big, golden eyes, vibrant red at the seams. Shining in the night, like a beacon. Warming up the day, like the sun.

You remember his words, his voice engraved in your mind when there was nothing to keep the spiraling thoughts at bay; cutting through them like the sharpest sword ever made.

Do it for me.

It’s so gentle that it makes your heart throb; the fragile state of it cracks, marking the intrinsic shape of your heart with thin fissures all over the form. But it doesn’t break. Yet.

“Dam it, Kyojuro.” But there is no anger in your voice.

You close your eyes, leaning on the wall. There’s a pleasant breeze hitting your face as the morning finally comes.

Resigned, you throw the cigarette on the ground.

lll.

When the first snowflake fell from the sky into the cold of the night, your body shivered from head to toe. The haunting of the hills penetrating your clothes, into your skin and down to your bones; like the frigid weather of the winter. As the snow fell, you watched little puffs of white air coming out of your mouth; condensing into a misty plume, dancing in front of you in a torturous memory of smoke.

You tried to steady your breath, but not even the purest snow could bring you peace.

The cold air burns your throat, pouring waves of agonizing cold into your lungs; burning on the inside. As you try to steady your breath, it starts to become a painful task at each minute; your hand is gripping the material of your clothes over your heart, the feeling of the beats reverberating through the night.

The contrast between the heat of your body and the icy feeling of the snow is enough to make you melt, transforming you in a puddle of your own self as your knees hit the ground in a muffled thud.

Winter is at its full, the moon casts a phantasmagory glimmer and everything seems like a faded memory from the past. One you tried to forget, but like a ghost, it never ceased to haunt you. Never allowed you to stray too far away from shore.

Two bodies lay in front of you. A father and a daughter. Staining the pure white snow with an evil shade of scarlet red. It’s ugly.

You watch helplessly as the blood slowly covers the snow; growing darker and bigger; the puddle of the still hot liquid hitting your knees sends another shiver down your spine. It makes you want to puke.

The air doesn’t burn your throat anymore, but your lungs scream for something you can’t pinpoint. You watch as the streams of blood pour down the mountain, a river flowing down from its source; everything becomes faded as the shadows grow darker around the corner of your vision. The grip on your clothes is so tight your knuckles turn white.

There’s an incessant feeling in your stomach; turning and shifting from side to another. Flashes of memories overflow your mind; pouring down your heart and filling your veins like poison. At this point you should be used to drowning in those feelings, but they still take your breath each time nonetheless.

Nothing makes sense. Everything makes sense.

“Y/N, breathe.” Someone calls your name; a faded sound in the background of a total cacophony of thoughts still overflowing your head.

It’s heavy, it hurts.

Then, there’s a firm grip on your shoulders and suddenly the scene is covered, but the imprint of it still remains on your memory. The shadow of a failed mission hits you harder than ever before. The smell of blood is unbearable, black dots appear on your vision, making it hard to focus, to see.

“You need to breathe, Y/N.” The voice tries again; touching your chin, lifting you face so you could stare two golden eyes shining bright in the night.

Kyojuro gently cups and holds your face between his hands, tender eyes looking at you. His palms always seemed to hold the heat of the sun somehow. It warms your freezing face in a few seconds; melting the snow that had started to cover your heart. A welcoming change of season that puts you on rotation again.

You breathe in. Breathe out.

“Just like that, breathe.” He says, encouraging you with small strokes of his thumb on your cheek. It’s a delicate movement, wiping away tears that you had shed without knowing.

Your lungs scream in pain; this time because of the cold air entering them, not the lack of it. The shadows around the corner of your vision slowly diffuses, leaving you with a clear view of his face, so close to yours - so beautifully full of alive.

Fatigue begins to settle down on your bones. You’re tired. Tired of trying; tired of fighting everyday against an evil you know you can’t defeat, not alone. It’s a battle you showed up with only a wood sword while the others were wearing shiny armors and swords made out of steel.

Kyojuro’s hand runs down your neck, bringing your face closer; slowly guiding you to put your head on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around your body in a half hug; hand caressing your back. You feel like crying again. The heat of his body involves you - it reminds you of a fireplace, comforting and keeping you warm throughout the harsh winter. Kyojuro’s hands, although calloused, are more than welcomed to touch your face.

Feeling like something is missing, your shaky hands reach out inside your Haori, grabbing the little metal case that once belonged to your father; it finally grounds you in the moment with a last sense of comfort, but you don’t open it.

Instead, you take a deep breath. Deeping your face on his shoulder, breathing in Kyojuro’s smell. it’s soothing; like staying in the sun when it’s cold; when the hot tea runs down your throat and warms your entire body.

“You’re really doing this for me, aren’t you?” He whispers in your ears, thumb still rubbing your cheeks in a slow motion.

You couldn’t get enough of this feeling. When was the last time someone had held you this close with such tender care? You couldn’t bring yourself to return the hug, hands still gripping the case. However, you really did appreciate his touch. Lighting every single part of your body that was still in the dark, reaching even the corners you didn’t want to visit.

“I’m here now,” Kyojuro’s tender words make your heart beat fast, doing wonders for your broken spirit. It’s so gentle that it’s enough to bring your walls down; make you open your door and let him in.

“And I’m going to take care of you.” Kyojuro kisses your forehead.

And just like that, your heart throbs again; painfully aware of the impact of those words. What they truly meant. The cracks in your heart grow bigger, snapping at the seams that were still holding the fragile organ together.

And you break.

But this time, Kyojuro’s there to hold your broken pieces.

IV.

When the colors of the trees started to look more vivid by each day, slowly growing leaves and making the landscape more friendly, more inviting. When you could see hints of buds of flowers fighting to grow in the backyard of the State, when the bees came out of their houses more frequently – making Mitsuri plan her next honey production - you knew spring was coming. The change of season came, changing the scenario, changing you.

Those past few months were a journey you never intend to go. If you were being honest, you would’ve never followed that path. At some point you even looked back, took a few steps backwards; not knowing if you were close to the end, or still in the start.

Then there was Kyojuro, gripping your hand so tight you couldn’t think about letting go; pulling you further the path. When you thought it was impossible to keep going, he would sit down with you and hold you in his arms. You couldn’t overcome your addiction in one day, it was a long path, one that he was willing to stay and make some company as you put yourself back together.

You weren’t alone anymore. And that made your journey so much easier.

The sun was high in the sky, the spring had just arrived and you couldn’t wait to taste Mitsuri’s famous honey again – this time you would truly appreciate the taste - couldn’t wait to sit in the garden and take care of the flowers while watching the butterflies fly around you. Spring has always been your favorite season, there was a magical feeling to it; bringing everything back to life; the colors; the animals; nature. A promise of a fresh beginning for everyone, mostly for you.

The water is cold against your body as you swim carelessly. The day was warm; the sun in all its glory in the sky. The river at Himejima’s State was always a degree colder than it should be, but after some time you got used to it. It had been a while since you swam, you liked the feeling of being afloat, how the water made you feel lighter and cleaner.

Cleaning your mind after the storm that crashed through was a tough task, one that took quite some time; but with the need to wipe the place and rebuild everything from scratch, there were some things you found you had long forgotten, hidden underneath broken furniture and shattered glass.

One of them was your love for spring, for calmness and for swimming. Long gone were the days you spent with your father by the lake next to your house; where you two would spend the day washing clothes and splashing water at each other. However, it wasn’t a bitter memory. Not anymore.

“Hey! I see that you’re starting the day quite well!” Kyojuro’s voice is recognizable even from afar, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he was approaching. Your heart though, was another story.

“You found me.” You say with a smile on your face, still not daring to open your eyes.

Kyojuro had become a great friend after the day you broke down in front of him. You knew the Pillar was a kind and honorable man - Mitsuri had only good things to say about him. However, there was always a tension when you two were in the same room; it was heavier as the days passed and his eyes on you weren’t as welcome as you wish they were.

Your paranoia played a great part in your relationship with him. Only when your walls came crumbling down and he was the first to step in; showing that all this time, it was just concern behind golden eyes, you stopped putting traps along the way, letting him in without a fight.

“How are you holding up?” His voice is closer now, probably by the riverbank.

You were good; for the first time you weren’t telling a lie to yourself. There was no desire to smoke anymore, not when you knew how it felt being clean. How you could taste Mitsuri’s food better; not smelling like smoke all the time. And most important, you had got so much better at the breathing technique. All the missions you went were a success, and you were proud of yourself – a foreign feeling that you were still getting used to.

“I’m…” You trailed off, getting caught up by the sight before you. Kyojuro was stripping down his clothes, his perfect toned chest glowing as the sun framed his perfect form. Your face is a shade redder as you quickly averted your eyes “…Good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You hear the sound of splashing water, followed by some movement from beside you. You take a deep breath before looking at his direction again. He’s close now, submerging up to his chin. You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relived. Maybe a mix of both.

“It’s cold!” He shouts, a ghost of teeth chattering as he swims next to you, testing the waters.

“Of course you would say that,” You laugh softly, arms moving at your sides to help you stay afloat.

The river wasn’t too deep, if you stayed close to the riverbank you could easily enjoy the coldness of the water without worrying too much. However, as you swam to the middle, you needed to make a little bit more of effort; it was the best part of the river for you though.

Suddenly, Kyojuro’s smiling at you; so bright and full of care that for a moment your mind goes blank.

Not knowing what to do with his gaze on you – truth be told, you never knew what to do but blush – you shove your hands forward, making a wave of water to splash against his unguarded face. After the first initial shock, Kyojuro laughs so loud that every part of your body lights up with a satisfying feeling, you liked his laugh, his voice. Him.

Not letting you go without revenge, he splashes you with a cascade of water that has you coughing for air; the difference between your waves and his are so ridiculous that at some point you have both of your arms shoving water in his direction. You two look like children playing in the river, and it’s not a bad portrayal; it’s quite soothing as the forest is filled with both of your laughs.

The moment lasts, until he grabs your wrist, stopping you from splashing another wave of water at him again. Your body freezes in the spot as his other arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Just like the sun, Kyojuro had a magnet on him, too compelling, too strong. He had a way to pull you closer without even noticing, as if you had always been gravitating towards him; You would inevitably come crashing into him someday.

The warmth of his breath hits your face, making you shiver from head to toe - something you thought was impossible due to the coldness of the water. Kyojuro purses his lips, slowly closing the gap between you two.

And instead of fighting against the anxiety building up inside you, the familiar feeling you always felt when he was too close. The beating of your heart, too fast to pass unnoticed. You close your eyes and let it go.

Kyojuro’s lips are soft against yours. His hand grips tighter your waist, making you sigh against his mouth. He releases your wrist, involving you with both arms, his muscular naked body against yours awakes something in the pitch of your stomach. Kyojuro tilts his head to the side, just enough to sink into the kiss even more.

Your hands quickly travel along his face, enveloping his neck in a strong grip, pulling him closer. Showing him that yes, you want this as much as he does. He kisses you gently but still manages to take your breath away.

Pulling away slowly, you still hold his neck in a tight grip; an attempt to ground yourself from the drunk feeling growing in your chest.

“You taste like cinnamon.” Kyojuro whispers, lips so close that it brushes against yours.

“Do you like it?” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it seems fitting. As if any louder word would break the spell of the moment.

“It’s delicious!” Kyojuro says with a huge smile on his face, and you can’t help but smile too.

He brings a hand to your face, touching your cheek tenderly, and without thinking twice, you lean into his touch. A welcomed act that has your heart and body demanding for more.

Bad habits are hard to break; and maybe you have found a new addiction to hold on to for the rest of your life. Only this time it was healthier. It was love.

*****

Secret Santa from @thgreatestblue to @redgokus ! Happy Holidays!

#kny secret santa #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #submission

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cinemavariety · 5 years ago

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Cinema Variety’s Top 25 Favorite Films of the Decade

This past decade has been a monumental ten years for the state of cinema. To think that there were actually still video rental stores all around the country, to almost becoming nonexistent, is statement enough to show how vastly audiences have changed the way they consume media. Through much thought and careful deliberation, the following 25 films are my personal favorites of the decade and are what I think best represent all that indie, international and arthouse cinema had to offer over the past ten years. Honorable Mentions: Shame Green Room A Ghost Story The Lost City of Z Knight of Cups 20th Century Women Jackie Blade Runner 2049 The Lighthouse Ingrid Goes West A Hidden Life

#25 - Suspiria (2018) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

“It’s only hours afterward that Guadagnino’s film will cohere for you and yield its buried treasures: the bonds of secret sorority, the strength of a line of dancers moving like a single organism, the present rippling with the muscle memory of the past. It’s so good, it’s scary.”

#24 - Call Me By Your Name (2017) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

“The final beats of Guadagnino’s adaptation galvanize two hours of simmering uncertainty into a gut-wrenchingly wistful portrait of two people trying to find themselves before it’s too late.”

#23 - American Honey (2016) Dir. Andrea Arnold

“Part dreamy millennial picaresque, part distorted tapestry of Americana and part exquisitely illustrated iTunes musical, “Honey” daringly commits only to the loosest of narratives across its luxurious 162-minute running time. Yet it’s constantly, engrossingly active, spinning and sparking and exploding in cycles like a Fourth of July Catherine wheel.”

#22 - Post Tenebras Lux (2013) Dir. Carlos Reygadas

“Some metaphors score and some miss, but this is leap-of-faith cinema: the rewards entail some risks.”

#21 - The Revenant (2015) Dir. Alejandro G. Iñárritu

“Pushing both brutal realism and extravagant visual poetry to the edges of what one customarily finds in mainstream American filmmaking, director/co-writer Alejandro G. Inarritu, cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and a vast team of visual effects wizards have created a sensationally vivid and visceral portrait of human endurance under very nearly intolerable conditions.”

#20 - Her (2013) Dir. Spike Jonze

“What begins like an arrested adolescent dream soon blossoms into Jonze’s richest and most emotionally mature work to date, burrowing deep into the give and take of relationships, the dawning of middle-aged ennui, and that eternal dilemma shared by both man and machine: the struggle to know one’s own true self.”

#19 - Annihilation (2018) Dir. Alex Garland

“A shimmering example of what Hollywood sci-fi can achieve when the aim is high, Annihilation is a gripping, mystifying adventure and proof that a transportive experience is more rewarding than a story with clean-cut resolutions.”

#18 - The Neon Demon (2016) Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

“Spectacular, gross and delicious (so unsavory it’s almost sweet), the film is more proof of Refn’s mastery of his trash aesthetic and more fun than anything this indulgent and empty-headed has any right to be.”

#17 - Waves (2019) DIr. Trey Edward Shults

“Propelled by color, energy, electronic music and a quartet of career-making performances, here is that rare sort of cinematic achievement that innovates at every turn, while teaching audiences how to make intuitive sense of the way it pushes the medium.”

#16 - Mother! (2017) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

“Mother! is something truly magnificent, the kind of visceral trash-arthouse experience that comes along very rarely, means as much or as little as you decide it does, and spits you out into the daylight dazzled, queasy, delirious, and knock-kneed as a newborn calf.”

#15 - Melancholia (2011) Dir. Lars Von Trier

“The vision is as hateful as it is hate-filled, but the fusion of form and content is so perfect that it borders on the sublime. Melancholia is a remarkable mood piece with visuals to die for (excuse the pun), and a performance from Dunst that runs the color spectrum of emotions.”

#14 - Song to Song (2017) Dir. Terrence Malick

“Any number of sequences find feelings both externalized and hidden intermingling within the same shot, continuing in a subsequent image that carries the impression, the feeling, without replicating the exact tenor of what has just been seen. They exist simultaneously as certain backstories and what motivations they may inspire delicately unfold. Malick has found a way to translate how a familiar song has the ability to transport you back to a particular time and conjure a specific set of emotions. Whatever he’s been exploring over the past few years pays off here.”

#13 - If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) Dir. Barry Jenkins

“What Jenkins gets most right—what astonishes me the most about this film—is Baldwin’s vast affection for the broad varieties of black life. It’s one of the signature lessons of Baldwin’s work that blackness contains multitudes. In some ways Beale feels less like a movie than a well-staged, meticulously shot play; a period piece that floats beyond its specific time and place and into the realm of allegory.”

#12 - Samsara (2012) Dir. Ron Fricke

“Simply put, Samsara tells the story of our world, but onscreen, it is so much more than that. A darker and more ambitious meditation on impermanence, Samsara relies on blunt force and unforgettable imagery, overcoming the hazy logic of Fricke's editing to earn your awe.”

#11 - It’s Such a Beautiful Day (2012) Dir. Don Hertzfeldt

“A highly original and utterly enthralling film that touches on staggeringly expansive themes - more typically expected in the work of master auteur and persistent award-winner Terrence Malick, than from animations. An existential flipbook and a heartbreaking black joke: stickmen have never looked so alive.”

#10 - Upstream Color (2013) Dir. Shane Carruth

“You may not be able to figure it out, but that's part of the point of this sensually-directed, sensory-laden experiential (and experimental) piece of art that washes over you like a sonorous bath of beguiling visuals, ambient sounds and corporeal textures.”

#9 - Hereditary (2018) Dir. Ari Aster

“It’s a supremely effective gauntlet of supernatural horror that’s also, at blackened heart, a grueling domestic drama about how trauma, resentment, and guilt can seep into the roots of a family tree, rotting it from the inside out.”

#8 - Spring Breakers (2013) Dir. Harmony Korine

“Spring Breakers seems to be holding a funhouse mirror up to the face of youth-driven pop culture, leaving us uncertain whether to laugh, recoil in horror, or marvel at its strange beauty. Full credit to Korine, who sustains this act of creative vandalism right through to the finish. Spring Breakers unfolds as a fever dream of teenage kicks, a high-concept heist movie with mescal in the fuel tank.”

#7 - The Master (2012) Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

“Two things stand out: the extraordinary command of cinematic technique, which alone is nearly enough to keep a connoisseur on the edge of his seat the entire time, and the tremendous portrayals by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman of two entirely antithetical men. Written, directed, acted, shot, edited and scored with a bracing vibrancy that restores your faith in film as an art form, The Master is nirvana for movie lovers. Anderson mixes sounds and images into a dark, dazzling music that is all his own.”

#6 - Interstellar (2014) Dir. Christopher Nolan

“It’s a bold, beautiful cosmic adventure story with a touch of the surreal and the dreamlike, and yet it always feels grounded in its own deadly serious reality. An exhilarating slalom through the wormholes of Christopher Nolan’s vast imagination that is at once a science-geek fever dream and a formidable consideration of what makes us human.”

#5 - The Place Beyond the Pines (2013) Dir. Derek Cianfrance

“A brilliant, towering picture, The Place Beyond The Pines is a cinematic accomplishment of extraordinary grace and insight. The movie succeeds both as a high-stakes crime thriller as well as a far quieter and empathetic study of angry, solitary men proves that Cianfrance has a penchant for bold storytelling and an eye for performances to carry it through.”

#4 - Black Swan (2010) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

“A full-bore melodrama, told with passionate intensity, gloriously and darkly absurd. It centers on a performance by Natalie Portman that is nothing short of heroic. This is, no doubt about it, a tour de force, a work that fully lives up to its director's ambitions.”

#3 - Drive (2011) Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

“From the beginning, it's clear this is not a standard-order action film. It takes its characters as seriously as its chases, shootouts, and fights. Drive dynamically merges a terrific film noir plot with a cool retro look. It's an unapologetically commercial picture that defies all the current trends in mainstream action filmmaking.”

#2 - Blue Valentine (2010) Dir. Derek Cianfrance

“Cianfrance and his actors, Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling, have not made a cold or schematic film. They aim instead for raw emotional experience, one that's full of insight into the ways a relationship can go astray, but mostly feels like a slow-motion punch to the gut.”

#1 - The Tree of Life (2011) Dir. Terrence Malick

"The Tree of Life is a film of vast ambition and deep humility, attempting no less than to encompass all of existence and view it through the prism of a few infinitesimal lives. I wrote earlier about the many ways this film evoked my own memories of such time and place. About wide lawns. About a town that somehow, in memory, is always seen with a wide-angle lens. About houses that are never locked. About mothers looking out windows to check on their children. About the summer heat and ennui of church services, and the unpredictable theater of the dinner table, and the troubling sounds of an argument between parents, half-heard through an open window.”

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