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captainditrag · 8 years ago

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Best Movies Of 2016

Sorry this took a bit longer, but I’m back and ready to celebrate the absolute best that the movies had to offer to me in 2016. I saw 76 films this year, which might not sound like a lot, but it sure felt like it, since I was going to usually multiple movies a week and I covered a wide variety of movies across pretty much every genre you can imagine. Also, I saw a lot of good films in 2016, some of which stayed in my mind throughout most of the year and even improved over time, making me shift my opinions on which films I felt I needed to honor the most.

As was the case with the worst of the year, I have a top 10 list to share with you regarding the year’s best, as well an 11-20 list of honorable mentions. Also, like the worst of the year, I didn’t get to see some of the highly reviewed and celebrated films of 2016, like Jackie, The Witch, The Jungle Book, Lights Out, Don’t Think Twice, Deepwater Horizon, 13th and Indignation, but unlike the worst of the year list, the cutoff date I personally set-up to try and keep me on track to finish this quicker (which clearly didn’t work) also kept me from being able to see other films that came out after, like Patriots Day, Paterson, Toni Erdmann, 20th Century Women, Silence and A Monster Calls, as well as strong efforts I saw after said cut-off (and thus can’t talk about here, as good as they are), specifically Fences, Lion and Elle.

Then again, just because people/critics liked some films didn’t mean that I did (or that I liked them as much as they did), which is why you won’t see films like The Handmaiden, Everybody Wants Some, The Birth Of A Nation, Sing Street, Zootopia, Loving, Queen Of Katwe, Moana, The Lobster, Arrival and Rogue One on here, either (so sorry to you, fans of those movies). As far as what I did put on my lists, sit back and bask in my head-first dive into the movies of 2016 that reminded me why I love cinema so much:

1. Pete’s Dragon

I’m as shocked as you are that my best film of 2016, of the 76 that I saw, is a remake of a 1977 live-action and animated hybrid. Yes, the original Pete’s Dragon is something of a Disney cult classic, but it’s something that its diehard fans probably were skeptical about seeing remade, while everyone else likely wondered why it got the fully live-action redo that you’re now seeing atop my 10 Best list. Indeed, I thought this looked kind of interesting from the trailers, but it took until I mentioned to someone that it came out and their curiosity and review request for me to go see it. To that person, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that push, because it saved me from missing this magical, rich, exhilarating, poignant, complex and wonderful movie, which had me completely engaged in its characters, completely transported into its world and overjoyed during every minute of it. It’s also stylistically and narratively different enough from the original that its fans shouldn’t be ruing the existence of this new version and, in its unique approach, I’d argue that this is that extremely rare case where the remake is better and one that, I think, proves the value of remakes, especially when they’re as great as this.

I said this was a remake, but I think the word “reimagining” may better suit it, because the only thing this film has in common with the 1977 Pete’s Dragon is that it’s about an orphaned boy named Pete who has a green dragon named Elliot as a companion. This new movie isn’t a musical comedy, it doesn’t mix live-action acting with hand-drawn animation and it doesn’t have the cruelly Dickensian foster parents that Pete had in the earlier film. Instead, this movie is a human drama with the expected fantasy element of there being a dragon, which it wastes no time declaring itself as from the opening scene, when young Pete (played wonderfully by Oakes Fegley) is driving through the forest with his parents and the car harrowingly crashes with Pete being the only survivor. All alone in the forest, Pete is saved by wolves by a dragon with the powers of invisibility, who he names Elliot. Fast forward 6 years and Pete and Elliot are still living in the forest together, unbeknownst to Grace (Bryce Dallas Howard), a park ranger employed by the nearby mountain town. Aside from the presence of Pete and Elliot, Grace knows all about the forest, including its legends of a dragon that she doesn’t believe, but her father, Mr. Meacham (Robert Redford), does and he often regales about the dragon to the local youth. Meanwhile, Grace’s fiancé, Jack (Wes Bentley) and his brother, Gavin (Karl Urban) are lumberjacks, the latter of which is cutting parts of the forest down on his own. One day, when Grace and her daughter, Natalie (Oona Lawrence) try to curtail Gavin’s more wanton logging of protected areas of the forest, Natalie spots Pete and follows him. After Pete hits his head, Grace takes him to the hospital in town and looks into finding out who he is and why he’s been in the forest all alone. Pete, wanting to return Elliot, runs away from the hospital, but is stopped and is taken in for the night by Grace and Natalie, while Elliot is left alone in the forest and is being sought out by Gavin, who heard his groan when Pete was found. As Grace finds out more about Pete, she probes a bit deeper about his life in the woods, to which he tells her about Elliot, which sounds a lot like Mr. Meacham’s story that Grace constantly dismisses, but maybe not for long, given Pete’s willingness to introduce Grace and Natalie to Elliot, as well as Gavin thinking that this mythical dragon is for real and Jack’s involvement in his brother’s dragon seeking.

Most of the film’s scenes balance between Pete’s bond with Elliot in the forest and Pete’s involvement in the mountain town and the characters living there, specifically via Grace taking him in and him and wanting to return to the forest with his beloved dragon, while also seeing the potentials of a return to domesticated life, and the movie perfectly blends these two halves into an amazingly engrossing, authentic, intelligent and heartbreaking mix of family film adventure/fantasy and child psychology. I have to be honest; on the latter front, I was not expecting this to be so effective in its look at Pete’s state of mind, perhaps because this is a film intended for families and that I’ve seen so many films like it that deal with the concept of parental death, personal isolation and foster family situations. Yet, it is, because the movie gives us the time to see how Pete grows as a young boy and shows a reality to both his life with Elliot after his parents are gone and to his time with Grace and her family. The early scenes in the forest are downright magical in terms of how reserved, observant, tender and wise the film is in its depiction of how Pete meets Elliot, how Pete’s innocence breaks through the initially intimidating aura of Elliot and how both complement each other through the years they spend together and tangibly show the bond of a young child and a creature that I’m sure any person in the audience who has had any animal as a pet/companion will be able to relate to. It doesn’t matter that we have the idea in the back of our minds that the presence of a dragon designates this as a fantasy, because it feels completely real in ways that many so-called “realistic movies” don’t, and that’s because of the patience and care that’s been put into Pete and Elliot’s bond, as well as the most masterful special effects, cinematography and sound design of the year to make the forest they call home feel completely real, from the totally realistic look of the other animals (I missed Disney’s live-action version of The Jungle Book, which was widely celebrated for its animal effect, but it’d have to be quite amazing with its animals to make me think it’s a better looking film on that front than this), the sweeping scope of the flying scenes and the surround sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the sound of snapped branches that had me turning my head and gasping “what was that?” to myself with every single environmental nuance.

Yet, the film is impressive in that it’s showing us that, as much as Pete is enjoying life with Elliot away from civilization and as beneficial as their relationship has been for Pete, it’s still an example of him bottling up the undeniable tragedy of him losing his parents. That complexity is further emphasized when Grace finds Pete, yet the movie is also not saying that the solution to Pete’s development and emotional baggage is merely finding a human family. There’s one scene that, the more I think about it, really shows that depth and complexity in a way that few films like this do, especially given the way that scenes like it usually play out in movies like this. It comes after Pete is brought into the hospital by Grace after he bumps his head and, while Grace is talking to the doctor, Pete runs away and is chased down. From a pure filmmaking perspective, this is an incredibly exciting and amazingly constructed passage, as we see Pete ferally jumping and running on top of moving cars in his attempts to escape those chasing him and return to his beloved dragon. Eventually, he finds himself trapped in a corner and is caught, after which we see Pete being held by Grace while he begins crying. I was deeply moved by this just thinking about the idea that we feel his pain and desire to return to Elliot, but I think it’s also subtly working on another level, which is that, as much as this is an expression of Pete wanting a return to his life in the forest, it’s also the first time that he’s been put in a position requiring him to realize on his own that his parents are gone and, understandably, he’s not ready to do so. Keep in mind, when his parents die, it’s when he’s still barely left infancy, but the movie explains that he’s been with Elliot for 6 years and until now, Pete and Elliot have been inseparable. Now without Elliot, Pete’s deep-seated memories of his parents’ death is reawakening and, at this point, the film is vividly and touchingly underscoring that without words and without explicitly telling us. Of course, that becomes clearer later, given Grace’s care for Pete (including her finding out just what happened to him) and also, via Pete’s willingness to show at least a little interest in involvement in Grace’s family (specifically, via the sisterly bond he develops with Natalie), but I love the way that this film allows the audience, both young and old, to have the opportunities to put the pieces together like that and in ways that are already open to more than one interpretation (remember, if you just think of him missing Elliot, it works on that level alone). I can’t tell you how much I admire and appreciate that because, along with giving additional depth, realism and points of discussion in a film that, let’s be honest, you don’t exactly go into expecting to be that deep, it shows a respect of the intelligence of the audience that they’ll be engrossed and intelligent enough to enjoy the movie and read into it deeper. Especially in a film with children as a target audience, it’s even more admirable and, as such, I’d like to think that kids (and adults) will attach to this on many levels, particularly with its willingness to not talk down to them (which, even if kids don’t realize at their age, they tend to pick up on in a basic sense before extrapolating on it later in life).

The whole movie has that level of depth, care, intrigue, resonance and complexity and, honestly, it’s something even the original Pete’s Dragon lacked. With all due respect, there was always something too simplistic and cynical about the 1977 film to me, particularly Pete’s nature as an orphan and the attempts at blending it with musical/comedic elements often undermined the drama (as opposed to similar and better Disney live-action/animation hybrids like Mary Poppins and Bedknobs & Broomsticks). Take the so-called “villains” in this new Pete’s Dragon film. There are similarities in that both the 1977 film and this one focus on characters wanting to use Elliot as a money-making attraction, but whereas the original movie’s villains were cartoonish and over-the-top (despite being humans), there’s a unique complexity to them here. When I saw Jack and Gavin introduced as wantonly cutting down trees, I initially thought “oh, the movie’s setting them up to be the typical evil, nature-hating logger types,” but I was wrong. They’re not bad people, so much as they are misguided at times, yet even their ill-advised actions are still understandable, given that they do have jobs as lumberjacks that they need to hold onto to keep themselves, their families and the mountain town afloat. In addition, the movie lets us see that both Gavin and Jack are real and complex men with unbreakable brotherly bond and dedication to protecting their families (both very well conveyed in the film’s climax) and hey; given that no one in this movie (except for Mr. Meacham and the children) believes that Elliot is for real, their reactions to them finding out he is real does make sense, even as they initially go about reacting to it in the wrong way. So, yes, Pete’s Dragon is a case where the remake is better than the original, yet it’s also not just making the same movie again or actively feeling like it’s replacing the film that made this one possible. Amazing.

I loved every minute of this movie and there are so many people and elements that need to be given credit for that. From the top, we have director David Lowery of Ain’t Them Bodies Saints fame (a film I definitely will be catching up on after this triumph), who expertly paces the film and infuses it with an aura that perfectly complements its mix of fantasy and realistic elements (particularly its transporting mountain-side and forest locations), but we also have the expert script by Lowery and Toby Halbrooks, the amazing and nomination-worthy technical credits of the film, the lovely Celtic-style music score by Daniel Hart and the strong acting by Karl Urban, Wes Bentley, Oakes Fegley, Robert Redford, and career-best work by Oona Lawrence (who previously irked me in Southpaw, but not at all here) and especially Bryce Dallas Howard, all of which and all of whom kept me engrossed, touched and enchanted here. Given all that, it should make sense why I believe Pete’s Dragon is easily the best movie of 2016, especially since it’s a movie that, like Pete’s dragon, Elliot, soars high above and beyond the basic expectations of a film like this and shows a level of care, dedication and love that I hope for out of every movie I see and doing it as both a remake of and a transcendent improvement on pre-existing material.

2. Moonlight

Every so often, a film comes around that has a specific focus on a certain culture and walk of life that, along with capturing its subject material and themes just right that makes it speak to one specific audience, it has such a deep understanding of human nature that it has an indelible and surprising universal appeal to others, as well. Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight, which came out of the film festival circuit quite strongly this past fall, is a film like that, telling the story of Chiron, a young African American boy in Florida attempting to decipher his personal identity, voice and sexuality amidst harsh bullying, social despair and a troubled home life with his drug addicted mother, as told in 3 parts depicting his growth as a child, a teenager and a young adult. I personally have not had the exact life experiences as Chiron does in this film (or in the play this film is based on), yet there’s such an incredible truth, intrigue and power to this film and its method of telling us Chiron’s story that I deeply connected with this lyrical, engrossing, poignant, authentic and masterfully constructed drama that also has a unique and indelible complexity to its themes and characters to make it a further transcendent and exciting experience.

The movie, as I specified, is told in three parts showing different points in Chiron’s life. Part 1, Little, shows Chiron as a young boy, played by Alex Hibbert, being chased by a group of kids in the opening, before hiding away in an abandoned apartment building. He’s found by Juan (Mahershala Ali), a local drug dealer who takes a liking to Chiron, as does his girlfriend Teresa (Janelle Monae). Chiron initially doesn’t speak to Juan or Teresa, and when he does, Juan brings him back home to his drug addict mother, Paula (Naomie Harris) but, a few days later, Chiron has returned to Juan’s house, tipping Juan off to just how difficult Chiron’s home life is. Juan and Teresa continue to be supportive of Chiron, particularly as Chiron begins to wonder if he’s gay, while Juan also begins to question his own way of life. This continues into Part 2, Chiron, which looks at Chiron’s life as a teenager, played now by Ashton Sanders, who is bullied in high school and sees his relationship with Paula become even more stressed. Meanwhile, Chiron starts to become closer with his fellow classmate, Kevin (Jharrel Jerome) who, along with Teresa, are the two people he’s seemingly able to connect with amidst his difficult home and school life. The final part of the film, Black, shows Chiron grown into a 30-year-old adult, now played by Trevante Rhodes, and now living on his own, but even so, his past still is a part of him and he’s still trying to find himself in his way, especially when he gets a phone call from someone vital from his earlier years whose identify I will not reveal (though I will say that he’s played by Andre Holland, and quite well, too).

That synopsis doesn’t make this film sound like there’s a lot of story here, but there’s even more that I’m not mentioning to avoid spoilers and also, the movie’s all about the details of the life of Chiron and of those around him, which are legion and make for an extremely rich, complete, gripping and moving portrait of this world and the characters. At each stage of Chiron’s life, the film perfectly captures the personal/emotional quandaries and challenges that people of all walks of life face at those age, while also emphasizing the unique struggles he faces and the traits that make him unique, specifically in relation to his reactions and outlook on those around him and how they have an indelible effect on his own sense of self. We see the balance between the harsher elements of his life, particularly as they relate to Paula and his bullying, and the brief refuges from those things via his bonds with Juan, Teresa and Kevin that help Chiron better understand who he is and, again, it’s the details of how the movie explores everything that makes it so relatable and fresh, despite some seemingly familiar elements. Let’s be honest; there are many dramas looking at African American characters in poverty, broken homes and in a world surrounded by drugs and despair, often with the perspective of emphasizing the tragedy and damage that it causes, and though Moonlight certainly isn’t shying away from that angle, it has an intriguing level of intelligence, complexity and subtlety about itself that makes it stand out and truly connect with the audience in a deep and tangible fashion far beyond a simple message picture. Regarding the drug element of the film, there’s a realism to it from not just the expected angles of Paula’s spiraling addiction and the resulting abuse of Chiron in relation to it, but also from the perspective of Juan, who deals drugs and begins to understand his own moralistic streak after meeting Chiron as a boy, especially when Chiron’s realization about Juan and Paula result in him asking pointed questions to Juan about that and also, about his own burgeoning identity. The scene where Chiron does that is one of the best in the movie, and there’s a quiet power and truth that both he and Juan reach, especially when Chiron, wondering if he’s gay, asks Juan “how do you know?,” to which Juan replies with the simplest, yet best and most directly profound answer to that question; “you know when you know.”

The sexual identity of Chiron is a key theme of the film, but lest you think this movie is simply going to be a didactic exercise in Liberal moralistic homosexual tolerance messaging, it goes much deeper with it by hitting at many deep realities regarding personal and sexual individuality that even a straight man like myself can completely relate to. The movie is very moving and unique in its depiction of the trajectory of Chiron determining his sexuality, which dovetails beautifully with him trying to decipher his own identity as a whole. As I mentioned earlier, Juan and especially Teresa provide a more positive environment for Chiron to find himself than Paula and the kids at school do, but what’s interesting about the negative reinforcement that Chiron faces is how the film leaves the question of whether they know if Chiron’s gay or not as an open-ended one. Compare that to the usual depiction of homophobia in the movies, where it’s all about the characters knowing of the homosexuality of the person they’re using slurs against; here, Paula’s animosity towards Chiron consists of subtle clues to whether or not she can detect that her son’s gay, while with the kids at school, their verbal attacks on Chiron suggest that their usage of slurs against him are more of a lucky guess and attempt to exude their masculinity more than them actually knowing Chiron’s gay. Yet, in the middle of all this, we see the damage that this is causing Chiron, as well as the quiet build towards his reactions to that and him trying to determine for himself what his orientation is, and the way in which his positive and negative experiences tie to him ultimately realizing who he is (and whatever that may be or may entail as it relates to his life), show a profoundly wise, devastating and uplifting understanding of human nature and development that works in a way that will speak to gay audience members, for sure, but also viewers of any sexual orientation who will be able to relate to their own experiences with identity-related bullying and personal discovery.

This movie is an incredible achievement on the back of its deep and authentic drama alone, as well as the expert script-writing by Jenkins and the outstanding performances by Hibbert, Sanders and Rhodes as Chiron, Naomie Harris as Paula, Mahershala Ali as Juan, Janelle Monáe as Teresa and Andre Holland as an adult blast from Chiron’s past, yet Moonlight is also a triumph in regards to its effectively artistic, exciting and expert display of film direction/construction. There’s something incredibly lyrical and sprawling about Jenkins’ Oscar-worthy direction here, which emphasizes both a vast scope of the Florida locations inhabited by Chiron and the other characters and an intimate focus on their personal drama, as well as an excitingly artistic aura to its view of Chiron’s experiences, the latter of which it amazingly does without ever feeling like sanctimonious showing off. Jenkins’ directorial confidence and strength almost becomes a character in and of itself, which adds to the exhilaration and attachment that we have for the story and characters, and dovetails wonderfully with the film’s expert pacing, its strong music score by Nicholas Britell and the completely transporting and exciting cinematography by James Laxton. In terms of its marriage of cinematic form and content, Moonlight is as close to perfection as a film can get and so rich and rewarding is this film that, as deep as I went into singing its praises, I could imagine myself revisiting, studying and finding a multitude of additional elements to explore, praise and better understand, and if that’s not the sign of a moving, exhilarating and indelible modern masterpiece, I don’t know what is.

3. Midnight Special

Jeff Nichols is a filmmaker who specializes in strongly emotional and close-to-the-ground dramas that have a uniquely and appealingly raw, subtle and authentic pull and power, particularly on the topic of the bonds of family. He’s quite a talented up-and-coming director, as evidenced by his earlier films, Take Shelter and Mud (the latter being on my 10 Best List in 2013), and in 2016, he made two movies; one being the interesting enough, but tonally off and disappointing Loving and the other being the sci-fi drama, Midnight Special which, if you couldn’t already tell, is the one I’m about to shower with high praise. This one came out way back in March and, despite some solid reviews, it didn’t catch on with audiences and seems to be all but forgotten now, but it’s an excellent movie that’s sprawling, complex, engrossing, emotionally rich tense and was, to me, the year’s best cross-section of science fiction and human/familial drama (and yes, that does mean that I think it’s better than the recent and somewhat similar Arrival, a film that probably would have been better to me if I hadn’t also seen this superior one).

Michael Shannon and Joel Edgerton star as Roy and Lucas, two friends who, as the movie opens, are leaving a cheap motel and taking a young boy named Alton (Jaeden Lieberher) with them. Before they leave, they see a news report talking about how Alton has gone missing and has apparently been kidnapped by Roy and Lucas. In actuality, Roy is the father of Alton, although he did technically kidnap his son by taking him back from the compound of a local cult run by Calvin Meyer (Sam Shepard) and his assistant, Doak (Bill Camp), who say that they need to get Alton back no matter what and have tipped off the police to the car that Roy and Lucas are driving. However, Calvin and Doak are also facing their own legal trouble, as the FBI has raided their compound and is taking away members of their congregation for question because they’re also seeking Alton. Meanwhile, there’s another person curious about Alton; NSA agent Paul Sevier (Adam Driver), who has a specialty and proclivity for the supernatural. What’s the special element about Alton that makes so many want to find him? I don’t want to completely explain that, for fear of spoilers, but I’ll say that he has a mysterious aura that grants him unique sci-fi powers (particularly regarding his eyes), which the cult, FBI and Sevier are curious to understand and/or use for their own purposes. Meanwhile, Roy is trying to protect his son, with the help of Lucas and Alton’s mother, Sarah (Kirsten Dunst), while also avoiding capture and trying to help Alton get to the place that he claims he needs to go, even as it becomes clear that Alton reaching his destination could have life-changing developments regarding himself, his parents and maybe the world.

As you may be able to guess, the movie has a lot of things going on as it relates to who or what Alton is, why he’s being sought out and what others may want from him, and it’s to the film’s credit that it expertly builds upon its setup and keeps the stakes and our involvement in them high, due to the additional narrative details and twists it deliberately reveals, as well as how it effortlessly intertwines them with the potent human drama. Nichols understands that one of the keys to great science fiction films (and, for that matter, any kind of film with otherworldly themes and concepts) is to provide the audience with a reality of its human subjects to, in turn, create a tangible reality to the science fiction elements of the movie’s world and story, and that’s exactly what Midnight Special does. The familial bond between Alton, Roy and Sarah and their individual developments regarding the situations they find themselves in is affecting, authentic and strong, to the point where even if this was merely a grounded and realistic drama, it would still be extraordinarily effective. There’s a quiet fascination and pain to Roy, who has deeply moving and believable personal feelings that he’s failed Alton in the past (particularly by allowing him to be taken in by the cult) and sees his mission to deliver his son as his redemption test, if only to assuage his own personal demons. Yet, when the outside pressure begins to push down on him, Roy’s fears are only further intensified and externalized, which is something that, even at his young age, Alton is able to catch onto that and respond by providing his father with the emotional comfort and protection that Roy has been trying to give his son, along with the expected physical manifestations of. The pivotal scene related to that comes when Alton and Roy are in a field together and how, through very few words, they come to the realization that both have been working to take care of each other in their own way and that, no matter what outcome of this journey will be as it relates to this family, Alton and Roy’s connection is one that no physical entity will ever be able to break. The film does a wonderful job of deliberately building to this point via its expertly deliberate pacing, while also showing a father-son dynamic that’s the year’s strongest and most authentic (even amidst others in films on this list) via an incredibly emotional and on-point moment in a film with multiple touching human connections already, including Sarah’s intriguingly and uniquely reserved grace and strength as the implications of the eventual outcome of her son’s mission start to emotionally hit her.

Even outside of the family, however, the film shows a deep interest in exploring the motivations of its supporting characters. The most significant is Lucas who, through his deep friendship with Roy and familial outsider status, provides the support and encouragement that Alton cannot, resulting in a lovely and natural byplay between the two as they both are able to confide in and assist each other. Yet, even the more shadowy and seemingly villainous characters are developed in a way that keeps them from being simplistic, dull and unbelievable, because the movie gives them the time, depth and complexity to understand their motivations and why they’re so determined to find Alton, which also provide our early conduit into what’s exactly going on here before we get involved with the family (or even know Roy is Alton’s father, for that matter). The inner workings of Sevier are interesting and his keen eye, effectively modulated techno-jargon explanations and perhaps shifting motivations as he learns more about Alton make him a unique wild card that keeps us guessing, while even the FBI members and cult leaders Calvin and Doak have their own reasons for their involvement that, given who they are/believe, make sense. All of the human elements of the film tie in to the sci-fi elements of it very well and give us more reason to be curious in seeing how everything is going to be resolved and, speaking of the ending, of the people I’ve heard from who’ve actually seen this, there are some divided opinions on it, particularly regarding how effective it is and whether it raises more questions than it answers. Personally, I love the film’s denouement, as it gives us enough answers to our basic questions so that it left me completely satisfied (along with being satiated with everything else the movie does well), but it also left the door open for various interpretations of what everything that happens means and represents from the physical, spiritual and supernatural points of view. Actually, on that point, even with my own pretty good idea of what the ending was and signified, I was thinking about all the little intricacies, subtleties and alternative explanations of this one for days after I saw the movie, to the degree that I’d actually love to see this one again to find out if I interpret it differently the second time through, and this is a great enough film that it’s worth seeing more than once, as opposed to some films that are barely worth a single viewing.

Clearly, this is a film that was very well thought out by writer/director Jeff Nichols, whose script is sharply, intelligently and observantly written and whose direction shows the clear confidence and control signifying a born filmmaker via his effortless balance between the various characters, settings and subplots, the moody and gripping atmosphere he creates, the masterful pacing and a couple of expertly set-up jump moments (one of which is unbelievably effective and nearly heart-stopping). Also adding to the film is the top-notch acting by leads Michael Shannon, Joel Edgerton (even better to me here than he was in Loving), Kirsten Dunst and Jaeden Lieberher (who finally delivers on the potential he showed in the atrocious St. Vincent, while also suggesting that, between that junk and Aloha, perhaps along with a good script, another key to him giving a good performance is not being in a movie with Bill Murray in it), the strong supporting work by Sam Shepherd, Bill Camp and Adam Driver, the excellent cinematography by Nichols’ regular Adam Stone and David Wingo’s atmospheric music score. This film does require your deep attention and involvement, but trust me when I say it’s deserving of it, given how rewarding, mesmerizing and emotionally impactful this now seemingly underrated triumph is.

4. Hell Or High Water

On my 11-20 worst of list, I had Money Monster, a film that attempted to probe America’s current day economic struggles while mixing it with the classic movie genre/formula of a hostage thriller, but really did a bad job of it, due to how irrational, ignorant and insultingly ideological it was on the former front and how dramatically and creatively ineffective it was on the former front. Fast forward 3 months later and we got Hell Or High Water, which is also viewed through the lens of the same current day issue, but is infused within the DNA of a heist/Western hybrid picture, and wow, what a difference. This is the kind of movie that proves the famous theory on film criticism by French New Wave director Jean-Luc Goddard of how movies, in their styles and execution, have good and bad counterparts and how the good films are the best form of criticism against similar bad films. Where Money Monster failed is every area where Hell Or High Water succeeds, as it’s an engrossing, smart, transporting, tense and excellent movie that truly understands the current decade’s monetary malaise and is also able to transcend its familiar genre trappings via its masterful writing, direction, acting, and sense of time and place.

The film focuses on the Howard brothers, Toby (Chris Pine) and Tanner (Ben Foster) who, in the opening, are robbing the Texas Midland Bank and then head off to rob another branch in a nearby town. Afterwards, they return to their mother’s ranch, which was left to Toby after her death, but the bank will foreclosure on the ranch on Friday unless they are able to pay them the $40,000 to buy it back. In a sense, it’s because of this, as well as Toby and Tanner’s belief that the bank squeezed their mother on the mortgage costs to keep her in economic squalor before cheaply acquiring the ranch after her death, that they’re robbing the Texas Midland Banks, but there’s more to it than even that, particularly as it relates to the brothers’ damaged pasts regarding their father, as well as a rift that formed between them following Tanner’s string of imprisonments, some of which may have manifested out of their upbringing and which, to Toby’s worry, may still be a permanent part of Tanner’s identity post-release and is already throwing a wrench into the methodically thought-out master robbery plan of Toby. Meanwhile, the robberies have gotten the attention of the FBI and local police, but because of the comparatively low amount of money that Toby and Tanner are stealing from each branch, the investigation is tossed to the Texas Rangers, specifically, Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) and his half-Mexican/half-Indian partner Alberto Parker (Gil Birmingham). Marcus has worked for the Rangers for years and, because he’s set for mandatory retirement, he goes all in on the case, given his nervousness of retired life due to the economic despair he sees around him, particularly related to the people he personally knows and the working-class leads he talks to as he and Alberto seek Toby and Tanner. Alberto is also noticing the monetary struggles, as well as how his and Marcus’s current case is pretty unique to the ones he’s faced before, particularly as it regards the pattern of the robberies, which at least gives him some extra experience and excitement alongside Marcus, as well as the pair’s societal and racial jabs towards each other that they both take and dish out about equally as they continue their manhunt for Toby and Tanner, while the latter are reaching the end of their robbery plan.

So, Toby and Tanner are committing crimes in a semi-righteous fashion in relation to their personal struggles to make ends meet and how they and their mother were screwed over by the local banking system… or are they? Yeah, there are a lot of gray areas regarding that in this movie, as well as to what degree are they villains and to what degree are they victims. Unlike the aforementioned Money Monster, which was completely deifying its criminal character and simplistically preaching “working class everyman good, economic power structure bad,” this one dives deep into the particulars of the lives of its leads, as well as all of its characters, to really understand the machinations of the economic system as it relates to them (a theme that director David Mackenzie has previously shown his interest and intelligence regarding in his underrated 2004 film, Young Adam). Indeed, many are getting screwed over, yet there’s an intriguing and revealing contrast made to the vastly different ways in which every economically struggling character is coping with that, even among those that turn to crime as an answer, namely, Toby and Tanner. This movie takes the time to make us understand why both of these brothers see the robberies as their way out without blanketly justifying them or condemning them, and the differing level or moralities that they have as it relates to their past. Unlike Tanner, Toby doesn’t have a criminal past to him, which causes him to go off on his brother when he doesn’t follow the plan, particularly as it relates to hurting others (including the way Tanner pistol-whips the bank manager at the beginning of the movie), while Tanner’s simple response to Toby’s objections is often a simple “I don’t care.” In another movie, that would perhaps signify that Toby is the virtuous of these two criminals and Tanner is the irredeemable villain, but here, when put into the context of the tortured (and also, torturous) relationship with their father, we realize the vastly different ways in which they compartmentalized that trauma. Toby was able to cope in his way, at least until his mother passed away, but Tanner was not, hence the latter’s lack of self-control and long criminal history (including a chilling suggestion to one of those actions of Tanner’s) and also, how Tanner feels even more guilt on how his personal failures are currently letting down Toby on occasions as they commit the robberies and how they also let down his mother by his crimes resulting in him being jailed near the end of her life, requiring Toby to handle things on his own. Yet, even with all the things we find out about Toby and Tanner, the film’s sober, uncompromising and thought-provoking look at them and their situations isn’t pushing us to feel one way or the other about them personally, but instead, study their complexities and contradictions in the context of their scheme and their internal thoughts about everything, while also revealing their strong and tangible brotherly bond.

The movie also effectively balances that with the struggles of the other characters and the community/local citizens surrounding them. There’s a reason why, all throughout these movie, we see signs on the sides of the road mentioning businesses closing, houses being foreclosed on and once stable areas now being abandoned, and that’s emphasized closer to the ground as we follow Marcus and Alberto. It adds a great sense of weight and atmosphere that emphasizes the drama, as well as seeing the Rangers’ interactions with robbery witnesses and waitresses who served Toby and Tanner that dovetail perfectly with the brothers’ struggles and the personal uncertainties of Marcus and Alberto, which also perfectly capturing their feelings of despair and worry of what the future will hold for them. However, even with all this heavily social commentary and drama, the film’s level of truth regarding that isn’t oppressively hopeless or despairing, so much as it’s forming a bridge between the movie and the audience to come to a better understanding of our current economic climate and our attempts to push through it, and also, this film is really entertaining on the level of its authentic drama, but also its expertly crafted and enthralling criminal procedural, action, western and even darkly humorous elements, particularly as the latter relate to authentic details about Texas life (even though the film was shot in New Mexico) that are effective on their own, while also strangely complimenting the story. Most of this comes from the back and forth between Marcus and Alberto, as well as the people they meet in their investigation, where their knowing attitudes about their speech patterns, cynical economic outlooks and even how, due to Texas laws, most of the citizens openly carry guns (a detail that leads to a great response when Toby asks one of the customers if they’re carrying one during their second robbery and a pretty intriguing way the open-carry laws tie into the third act resolution).

In addition, the sharp and surprising script by Sicario scribe Taylor Sheridan keeps us guessing as to the developments and resolutions of the story and characters, the pacing is excellent, Giles Nuttgens’s cinematography effectively captures the New Mexico/Texas hills, mountains and deserts and complete envelops us in this world, the direction by Mackenzie is strong, there are some shocking effective action bursts (which also mean more, given our attachment and/or rooting interest in the characters) and the acting is nothing short of magnificent. Much has been made of Jeff Bridges’ turn as Marcus, and deservedly so, but I was also quite impressed by Gil Birmingham, who has a great individual strength as Alberto, as well as dynamite chemistry with Marcus, and especially Chris Pine and Ben Foster as Toby and Tanner. Their brotherly dynamic is absolutely spot-on and the way they are able to peel back the layers of their characters as the film progresses, both through their dialogue and in some effective silent moments, is quite extraordinary. It also shows a different and exciting acting side to Chris Pine than I had previously seen and, though I’ve liked him in the modern Star Trek movies and in The Finest Hours early in 2016, he's really announcing himself as an excellent young actor with his career best work here. For all those reasons and more, Hell Or High Water is an excellent and transcendent film that is equally strong for those looking for a pure entertainment, those wanting narrative and societal substance out of their movies and those like me who love when the two are shown to not have to be mutually exclusive concepts, and if you’re looking for what I believe will go down as the best non-documentary cinematic document and understanding of the economic atmosphere of the period of its release, here’s your film.

5. Finding Dory

After I named Up as the best movie of 2009, I personally think that the CG animated film studio Pixar kind of went downhill from there. Since then, they made letdowns like Monsters University (their worst film in my eyes) and Brave, while the ones people claim are masterpieces, like Toy Story 3 and Inside Out, were not to me, thanks to them crumbling narratively under the weight of their admittingly admirable ambitions (the emotional punch of Toy Story 3’s last scene doesn’t forgive the painfully predictable third act journey to that point and Inside Out’s recycling of the Pixar improbable journey formula and the unmotivated scorn and hatred of Sadness undercut its look at child psychology). 2016 saw Pixar sequelizing their 13-year-old Finding Nemo, a film I liked, but didn’t love and that, along with the aforementioned 6-year malaise of Pixar, the memories of director Andrew Stanton’s last movie, John Carter (my 2nd worst film of 2012) and the trailers that suggested an “I could take it or leave it” affair, made me skeptical about Finding Dory. But wow, was I wrong, because this wonderful, smart, in-depth and emotionally powerful masterpiece that returns Pixar to prime form with a film that’s not only that rare sequel that improves on the original, but also the best animated film in a strong year for the genre, as well as a perceptive and vital look at people with disabilities in a year where Hollywood mostly treated them like dirt (including by Disney themselves via the Heihei character in their recent Moana).

The film takes place right after the events of Finding Nemo, where Marlin (Albert Brooks) and his son, Nemo return home with Dory (Ellen DeGeneres), the blue paracanthurus with short-term memory loss that helped the father and son reunite. However, Dory is now living in the Great Barrier Reef with Nemo and Marlin because, as we see in flashbacks, she lived with her parents (Eugene Levy and Diane Keaton) when she was young, but was washed away from them by the undertow and has been wandering around ever since without being able to remember why. The only memory she retained was her parents’ advice to “just keep swimming,” which is how she ended up meeting Marlin and why she’s living with them now. However, one day, after wandering off while in her “job,” of sorts, as the field trip chaperone for Nemo’s school, Dory goes near an undertow and, in combination with a young student asking where her home is, Dory’s starts remembering the details of her past and how she does have a home where she once lived and parents who are waiting for her. Dory’s condition, of course, results in her not always remembering this, but she’s overjoyed that she actually remembers something and, with help from Marlin and Nemo, Dory’s able to remember the Jewel of Morro Bay, California, where she believes her parents are. She convinces Marlin and Nemo to come with her and assist in finding her parents, but after Dory’s excitement nearly ends up getting Nemo killed by a squid, Marlin lashes out and negatively uses her disability as punctuation for his rage, resulting in Dory swimming off and getting caught by researchers for the local Marine Wildlife Institute that specializes in capturing, healing and releasing sea life, so says their celebrity PA announcer (whose identity is too great to reveal here). The rest of the film jumps between Marlin and Nemo attempting to gain information and navigate the institute to find Dory and, more significantly, Dory wanting to search the institute, where she hears her parents may be now living, But even away from Marlin and Nemo and with her disability impeding her search, Dory isn’t alone, as she’s assisted of some of the institutes’ inhabitants who also have a disability of some sort and their own outlooks on how they cope with it, including Destiny (Kaitlyn Olson), a near-sighted whale shark who was a childhood friend of Dory’s, Bailey (Ty Burrell), a beluga whale with a head injury that he believes prevents him from using his echolocation skills and, most significantly, Hank (Ed O’Neill), a bitter octopus who lost a tentacle (he’s now a “septopus,” as Dory points out in a great line) and has teamed up with Dory to escape as he bounces between resentment and respect for her.

I used the word “disability” a lot in that synopsis because, unlike Finding Nemo, that’s the angle the movie is focusing on with the traits of the creatures at the institute and, most of all, Dory’s short term memory loss (the 2003 film touched on that a bit with some of Dory’s emotional scenes, mixed with her effective comic relief, which made sense, since she was a supporting character there and not the lead). Right there, the film shows that it’s not one of those sequels that just rehashes the plot of the original, but you also see that in the scenes depicting Marlin and Nemo’s father-son dynamic as they search for Dory, which do a great job of complementing her story, while also expanding on the bookends of Finding Nemo that established their bond. On that front, the film is strong in its depiction of Nemo’s continued growth, Marlin coping with that and also, Nemo’s outlooks on Dory that achieve the same kind of perhaps unintended, but authentic and perceptive profundity about her, who she is and her condition, that can often come from young children in real-life who are old enough to start seeing the big picture of life, but have not yet developed the cynicism, impatience and neuroses about such heavier topics that can sometimes cloud adults’ views. We get said clouded outlooks and outbursts from Marlin (including the one I mentioned that hurts Dory and makes her swim away), but knowing who he is (even if you’re just seeing this without having seen Finding Nemo), the way he acts, to a degree, is understandable and authentic, as is his earned realization of his mistake and how wise prior to his years his son is, and the film’s encapsulation of that, and their father-son ebb and flow is tangible, relatable and quite special.

However, the big dramatic hook here is how it looks at Dory and her short-term memory loss, which it does with authenticity, intelligence, complexity, poignancy and grace. I said that I thought Pixar’s last film, Inside Out, was overrated because, despite taking a similarly heavy psychological focus in regards to its central character, Riley, I think that movie was a case of its heart being bigger than its brain. I felt it was so in love with its great concept of personifying human emotions that it didn’t realize how offensive it was regarding the portly Sadness character, whom most every character hated for no motivated reason before reaching a conclusion that proves her worth in a way that, along with being really cynical with the attempt to slink away from the fat-shaming angle the movie brought in and undermining its emotional punch, is totally unbelievable (even by the standards of the film’s semi-fantasy logic), given the emotions’ decade plus time together guiding Riley (basically, you’d think they’d have realized that years ago). Finding Dory sidesteps that issue because it does not shy away from the realities of Dory’s disability, both regarding her and the other characters around her, but it’s also not shaming her for it, nor is it going over the top with or inadvertently condoning the impatience and cruelty that she faces because of it. The movie is patient in how it lays out her struggles, starting in the authentic flashbacks with Dory’s parents, who love their daughter and are showing her undying affection and assistance, while also talking to themselves about how they know the world is going to be more difficult for Dory because of her disability and that they’re extremely worried about both that and their potential failure as parents if they can’t properly prepare her for adulthood. I can personally relate to that very strongly and the film does an amazing job of emphasizing that balance from the perspective of the parents, but also from Dory herself, who knows she’s different and, even as a young fish, knows enough from seeing her mother crying that she wants to assuage her fears by trying to be as independent as her short-term memory loss will allow, while also avoiding the constant reality of potential trouble/pain because of it.

Given that, Dory’s interactions with Destiny, Bailey and especially Hank, are crucial to the movie’s success on this front because, after facing the cruelty of Marlin, they provide the contrast to her struggle that show her that she’s not alone, while also emphasizing to her and the audience exactly how these characters compartmentalize their traits, both positively and negatively. While Destiny is upbeat in the face of her vision problems, Bailey is letting his injury control his life, even after he’s apparently been cured of it, while Hank has deep-seated self-loathing about his lost arm, the latter of which Dory has to be on the receiving end of the most. Like Marlin, Hank is showing Dory his impatience and frustration with her, but unlike Marlin, he’s doing it constantly and, to be honest, we can understand why from the start, even as we know he’s being misguided and mean about it, yet unlike Inside Out, it’s actually motivated believably from the character, as opposed to the plot demanding it happen. That last part is important, because when we get the scene where Hank realizes the error of his ways, it feels authentic and earned, because Dory’s confrontation of him, which is the catalyst of that, cuts deep at Hank’s own hang-ups. Hank is always saying he wants to leave the institute, but only after Dory calls him out is he able to be freed of the fears he’s bottled up regarding what being just a seven-armed octopus could mean for his future, in terms of how he’ll live, how others will view him and his fears that similar events that led to him losing his one arm will happen again, especially the longer he stays at the institute.

That point shows that the bond between Dory and Hank goes far deeper level than just them trying to reach a physical destination. As Dory is able to break Hank out emotionally, he’s able to show her the power she has to control her own destiny, which, for Dory, blend together with the brief returns of her deep-seated memories and personal feelings about who she is as an adult wonderfully, leading to a brilliant late scene where she opens her heart about the realities of her life, both in terms of her and others’ struggles/feelings about her short-term memory lost. Speaking as someone with a disability myself, that scene is so amazingly and heartbreakingly dead-on, that I was moved to tears. Also, looking back on 2016, just thinking about that masterful scene and the build-up to it increases my rage towards films like Moana, The Nice Guys, The Accountant and Me Before You, mass-market movies that hate people with disabilities with a violent passion and see them as nothing more than plot props and targets of ridicule, even when they claim they’re being deep and penetrating about them or holding themselves up as “progressive” (and on the latter, I say this is a far more positively progressive movie on the female empowerment front than Moana is). I hope everyone involved with those films sees this movie and that scene because, if they have any common decency, it should result in them hanging their heads in shame on the back of witnessing a mass-market movie like this that really understands people with disabilities in a way that no other major non-independent release this year (or arguably, any other recent year) has.

Yet, despite how surprisingly wise and vital this movie is about its central dramatic topic, I don’t want you to think that Finding Dory is a depressing downer. On the contrary; along with being so effective as a psychological and dramatic character study, it’s also a beautiful, creative, sometimes quite funny and excellent animated entertainment for both kids and adults. Also, unlike some other Pixar movies, though this does follow their trademark “improbable quest” formula regarding its story logistics, they feel fresh this time, thanks to a plethora of unique, clever and hilarious touches (the climactic action scene at the end is proof of that, and I will not ruin even one second of that brilliant insanity), as well as the more knowing attitude of the characters, which are expertly voiced and brilliantly embody and disappear into their roles. Also, the animation is fluid and lovely, the atmosphere is tangible, both in the brighter and darker underwater and near-water set pieces, the writing is excellent and the film is wonderfully directed by Andrew Stanton & Angus MacLane and well-paced, which reminds us that, even in an era where most big budget films run for 2 ½ hours, regardless of whether they should or not, packing a film with so much and delivering it all so well in a breezy 97 minutes is still a good thing and something to admire. Finding Dory is the best animated film of 2016 and, just like Pixar’s best efforts, it holds its own with the year’s live-action efforts, while entertaining, moving connecting with us in ways that some of those movies are unable or unwilling to. Welcome back, Pixar; we missed you.

6. Swiss Army Man

The last line of the very bizarre Swiss Army Man from writers/directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, or Daniels, as they call themselves in the credits, has Mary Elizabeth Winstead stating a certain profane three-word confusion-expressing sentence to describe the sight she and we are seeing. I’m pretty sure that there will be many people asking that same question a lot during this and also, as they read my explanation for why I think it’s one of the year’s best films, and certainly 2016’s most audacious and original one. On the surface, it’s a story about island/wilderness survival of two men trying to get home in one way or another, but underneath, it’s a lot weirder, deeper and darker than it looks and, for something that may sound like a pretentious artsy gimmick movie, it’s actually more grounded and insightful than most films that you can put that label on and it’s also engrossing, unpredictable, strangely hilarious and shows a mastery of narrative tone management which, given this film, you wouldn’t think it would be able to cross the disparate mood spectrums that it so deftly does.

The film stars Paul Dano as Hank, a young man deserted on a remote island with a nothing left now but an empty cooler, some empty Cheetos bags and a rope. It looks like the end for him, so he tries to hang himself but before he does, he sees that a man’s body has washed onto shore and goes to see if he’s still alive. He then hears the body evacuate its bowels signaling that yes, he’s dead, but when Hank goes to the rope for another suicide attempt, he sees that the man is continually farting, meaning that he can’t be dead and, when the body is taken out by the tide and propels itself forward with its flatulence, Hank sees a potential to escape and proceeds to ride the fart-propelled body across the water like a jet-ski to get back to civilization (in all the years I’ve been writing about movies, I never expected I’d be describing that in any movie, let alone one that was good enough to make my 10 Best list). When they get back to shore, Hank carries the man with him and they take shelter in a cave, all while Hank continues to get mixed signals to whether the man is actually alive or not. The closest sign he gets to the man being alive comes the next morning when Hank, after finding that the man’s mouth has become a source of water after his lungs were filled by the rain the night before, hears the man speak and he calls himself Manny (he’s played by Daniel Radcliffe; yes, the same one who played Harry Potter). Thing is, that’s not exactly a confirmation that Manny’s still alive because, although Manny can speak, he can’t move and he can’t remember much of anything about himself or about life, in general. As such, Hank tries to jog Manny’s memory by starting from the beginning, namely, by explaining to him what bodily functions are (including the defining flatulence trait that got them off the island), what sex is and explain various pop cultural milestones, such as the movie Jurassic Park, Netflix, the Sports Illustrated annual swimsuit issue and, via Hank’s creation of metal demonstration figures and models, the Nintendo Gamecube game, Chibi-Robo. As Hank and Manny continue on their journey and get closer, Hank explains the concept of love to Manny by telling him about Sarah (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a girl he met on the bus and wants to get closer to, while Manny reveals additional skills that he has with his nearly dead body, including chopping wood with his hands, using his throat as a grappling hook launcher and, after getting an erection from seeing the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models, using his phallus as a directional compass.

Yes, all of what I just describe and even more does happen in this movie, I’m not joking, and to say that this film will not be to all tastes is the understatement of the year. Even so, I was completely delighted and fascinated by this movie, starting with the fact that I could not predict where it was going. The main reason for that is the film’s depiction of Hank and Manny’s budding relationship, which is strangely appealing and believable, continuously surprising with all the new skills that we learn Manny has and, at times, is achingly hilarious, particularly with their priceless back and forth discussions (two of my favorites being Manny learning why, in the world of pop culture, it’s vital to know what Jurassic Park is, and Manny not getting why fantasizing about Hank’s mother is a social faux-pas, even after Hank yells at him for it). In addition, the film does a brilliant job of tying their growing bond in with the mental state of Hank, which is actually the most significant source of the film’s unpredictability. You see, by both Hank’s and the movie’s own admission early on, it’s not clear as to whether if Manny is actually alive or dead and, for that matter, it’s also unknown if Manny’s real or just a figment of Hank’s imagination. The movie expertly keeps us guessing what the revelations to those quandaries will be all the way until the end, which is quite an accomplishment, because most movies I see that have me wondering how all the narrative pieces will fit together usually give me an idea about a scene or two ahead of the big reveal. On top of that, just when I thought I had it all figured out in the third act, they throw in a big twist about Hank that, although it fits with everything we saw up to that point, it completely changes our perspective of it all based on the darker and creepier direction that it shifts the picture into.

I wouldn’t dare even hint at what that surprise is, but I’ll say that it solidifies the film as an uncompromisingly twisted, disturbing and, ultimately, vital look into the depths of human psychology and human nature and, amazingly, the twist not only has the intended skin-crawling effect on us, but it reaches that without feeling like cheap exploitation and without feeling that the tonal change is out of place. I’ve seen many movies that start out, I guess, bizarrely whimsical in its mood like this one does, and then go dark in the third act, especially in similar independent films. Actually, this movie reminded me a lot of Michel Gondry’s The Science Of Sleep from 2006, what with some of its wood-cut and wire-cut props and utilization of those to explain both surface and deeper concepts of life and love with characters who, despite being adults, have a mental streak more in common with young children (in the case of this movie, the idea of Hank breaking down the first 18 years of human development in simple terms to Manny, as well as some of Hank’s own attitudes and outlooks). However, The Science Of Sleep really hurt itself to me because there was always this cloyingly precious, pretentious and annoying attitude it had about itself and, when it tried to look at the harsh reality of its lead character, not only did it clash with the aura of the rest of the film, but psychologically speaking, the movie refused to play fair regarding that by basically letting him off the hook for his actions. That the Daniels, through their strong writing and assured direction, so effectively avoid those traps, navigate the heavy tonal shifts and maintain a self-effacing aura about the film’s strange and morbid nature and elements is a miracle. Also miraculous are the scatological elements of this film. I’ll be honest; I usually don’t like fart jokes in movies because, in most cases, it’s done for the purpose of embarrassment of the characters and getting a rise out of the audience by making us go “Eww!” and uncomfortably recoil (and the use of stock sound effects for it only underlines how calculated and inauthentic it often is). By sheer coincidence, I saw this movie right after I watched The BFG, which did exactly what I hate and turned me off over it, while this film handles that, as well as all of its other potentially cringe-worthy themes, in a refreshingly matter of fact way (and with unique audio for them), while also spacing them out so that the movie is not just an 100 minute long fart joke (which some critics have tried to say it is, but I strongly disagree). That, as well as the effectiveness of the film as a whole, are strongly bolstered by the authentic chemistry between the two lead performances, which are excellent and, in their way, kind of brave. Paul Dano shows a level of intriguing complexity as Hank, which guides us through his situations, even when we learn more about the reality of them that may or may not be flattering. He’s matched and, arguably, surpassed by Daniel Radcliffe, who has the harder role to pull off as the dead or perhaps not dead Manny, because he has to straddle that line throughout the whole movie, which he does with some amazing dead-man physicality to his body movement (often by him pretty much having to stay still while an outside force makes him respond somehow) and a perfectly modulated and delivered dead-pan voice to his line readings. Honestly, I’m not sure what other actors could have portrayed Manny as well as Radcliffe does here and, even in a career with good turns in 8 Harry Potter movies and other strange and ambitious projects like Horns and a much-discussed stage role in Equus, this may be his best performance and, though it’ll never happen, it’s totally deserving of an Oscar nomination in my eyes. As I said at the start, Swiss Army Man isn’t a movie for everyone, and its weird elements and ideas will likely have some feeling it’s pretentious and/or echoing Mary Elizabeth Winstead at the end (oh, and speaking of her, she’s also quite good in her small, but very crucial role here). For me, though, in a year where the unabashedly bizarre artsy films out there consisted of ugly and depressing dreck like The Neon Demon and Nocturnal Animals, this is the one that excited, delighted and had my full attention and thoughts with its qualities and, if you’re an adventurous/psychological movie-watcher like I am and want the best, freshest and, ironically, most alive cinematic challenge of 2016, this is the one to see.

7. Sully

There are many challenges that come when making a biopic about a real-life event, three of the biggest being justifying it over a documentary about the same subject, giving a sense of authenticity to the story while still being a compelling retelling and giving a unique perspective on the chosen subject. Doing those things becomes even harder when the real story in question is so famous, as was the case with the great United 93 from a decade ago and, in this case, Sully, the newest film from director Clint Eastwood. Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t know the story of Chesley Sullenberger, the captain of US Airways Flight 1549 that made a miraculous casualty-free emergency landing on the Hudson River on January 15th, 2009 and indeed, I knew about it going into this one, so I was curious as to how it would tell the story and what new angles it would provide to both Sully and the “Miracle On The Hudson,” as that famous landing was known. Well, the movie mixes the depiction of the landing with its immediate aftermath, specifically Sully’s sense of self-doubt, questions of whether or not he really is the hero that some were saying he was and his post-traumatic stress “what-if” thoughts about it, all during the NTSB investigation of the crash, making for a tense, fascinating, dead-on accurate, expertly crafted and expertly acted triumph that’s both a great document of this significant piece of recent American history and an intriguing, revealing, unique and vital psychological dig deeper into it.

Tom Hanks stars in the title role as Sullenberger who, as the movie opens, is having multiple nightmares where he crashes his plane in New York City. In reality, he and his co-pilot, Jeff Skiles (Aaron Eckhart) had recently pulled off an emergency crash-landing on the Hudson River after a flock of geese got sucked into and destroyed the engines of US Airways Flight 1549 shortly after take-off. Amazingly, the landing was a success and all 155 people on board the plane were able to walk away safely, which captivated and uplifted many in the national press and local citizens, particularly in New York. In response to the crash, the NTSB begins their investigation about what happened, resulting in Sully and Jeff being brought in for questioning by one of the chief investigators, Charles Porter (Mike O'Malley). Porter is questioning Sully and Jeff’s account of what happened and believes that, despite the miraculous outcome, they acted recklessly by not flying back to La Guardia, especially when the investigation shows that one of the engines was apparently still functioning and the NTSB simulations using the data from the plane suggest it would have been able to reach the airport safely. Sully and Jeff push back against the accounts, believing that the sims didn’t take into account the factors that led Sully and Jeff to make their decision and that landing on the river, at the time, was the only option to avert a potential tragedy. In between the investigations, the movie flashes back to depict the landing from the perspective of Sully and Jeff, as well as the current mental toll it took on them, particularly Sully, who keeps wondering if he really did make the right decision, isn’t completely comfortable with being given the title of hero from the citizens he meets and, more than anything, just wants to return home to his wife Lorraine (Laura Linney) and his two daughters.

Like I stated at the top, many people know the basic story of Sully and the landing going in, as did I, so it’s quite impressive that the movie is able to be as compelling and, in a strange way, unpredictable as it is. Of course we know in the scenes depicting the crash that everyone is going to survive, but the way the film reaches that known outcome is expertly handled by director Eastwood so that, while we’re engrossed in the harrowingly accurate account of the plane going down and the struggle to evacuate and reach land safely (all while trying to avoid the icy cold water of the river), we’re still asking ourselves how and if they’re going to make it out OK, even though we subconsciously know that they will. That’s a pretty difficult thing to do in a movie when you think about it since, as audience members, we’re often prone to tuning out of a film when we’re able to predict lockstep how everything will happen, so the idea of not feeling like we can call everything ahead of time and on a story that most people buying a ticket already know the resolution of is quite an accomplishment. I think one of the keys to that is the film’s jagged narrative structure, a technique that can sometimes be a needless distraction in the movies, but is a perfect fit here. By mixing up the scenes showing Sully’s flashbacks, his interactions with fans, the development of the NTSB investigation and, ultimately, the scenes of the landing, it not only effectively emphasizes Sully’s shaken and scattered emotional state from the landing and everything happening in its aftermath, but also makes those ancillary elements the narrative focus from which the overarching event of the landing are driven by, both narratively and dramatically. As to why we’re still excited and curious as we see the landing re-enacted, it’s because we’re curious as to how it will tie to the other threads of this story that the audience may not know going in, while also being amazed how well conveyed the landing is on its own. In a way, it’s not unlike Paul Greengrass’s great United 93 from 10 years ago, another docudrama about a headline-making event regarding an airplane (albeit one far more terrifying and heartbreaking than this) and, like Sully, it also focused on multiple angles of its story, also was about people making quick/semi-controversial life-or-death decisions and was harrowing and gripping in its details, despite us knowing mostly how it would ultimately play out.

Along with enhancing the landing scenes, the psychological look at Sully and the walkthrough of the NTSB investigation add an indelible, wide-reaching and very intriguing perspective to this story and its main players that, even in a world with many books, interviews and TV documentaries about Sully and the Miracle On The Hudson, make this film stand out as its own unique and vital document of this story. The scenes of the investigation play out like a great procedural, with a strong attention to detail of the job of an airline pilot and the related safety and regulatory bureaucracies, as well as showing the interesting and complex dichotomies of both. Porter’s pushing heavily on the idea that perhaps Sully and Skiles took an unnecessary risk with all the information that came out after the fact, but we also see that Porter, as well as his fellow investigator, Elizabeth Davis (Anna Gunn), are being personally pressured themselves by their superiors with wrapping up the investigation as fast as they can (which we especially see as it relates to the data entered into the simulations that claim the plane would have made it back to the airport safely). Despite what it may seem, and despite some criticism this picture has gotten on this front, there’s a complexity to Porter, Davis and the investigation that shows an interest in showing the depth and evolution of the characters, the situation and their initial mindsets and effectively avoids the clichéd antagonistic government red-tape logistics argument against the everyday workers who became populist heroes for just doing their job that we’ve seen in similar films based on real-life events (like 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers Of Benghazi, which succumbed to just that).

Meanwhile, Sully and Skilles are interesting in how, along with having to compartmentalize the trauma of the event they personally experienced, they mine it to build their case that they made the right decision in the moment, while also constantly second-guessing themselves. This is where the psychological angle of the film is introduced and the film does an excellent job of exploring both men’s mental state following the landing and showing how both cope with it, both personally and among others. We see the latter effectively during the scenes between Sully and Skillies as they build their defense and back each other up during the depositions, but we also get to know their personal bond over more typical situations like them ordering room service at the airport hotel or going for a brisk midnight jog. Yet, the best example of this is in in the scenes when Sully is on the phone with Lorraine, as both Hanks and Linney, despite not acting together on-screen, capture the dynamic of married couples talking out their inner thoughts and providing each with comfort with authenticity and emotional resonance, from the perspective of Sully questioning if he’s actually a hero and wondering if he should have done it differently, and from Lorraine admitting to Sully a few days after that she’s only now emotionally reacting to her own “what if,” that is, what if Sully had failed to safely land the plane.

As such, we connect to the potent and investing human element underneath and we see how it drives Sully and Skilles’ handling of their defense in the investigation, both substantively and even with a dollop of effectively matter-of-fact humor (the film’s last line, delivered by Skilles, is a great example of the latter, and it’s an absolutely perfect closer). It also emphasizes how strong the writing of this movie is, how strong its attention to detail of its subjects, themes and setting are (this is exactly what 2009 New York was like) and especially how strong the acting is. Hanks as Sully is intriguingly reserved, believable and giving a complete and Oscar-worthy lead performance here, but, as I suggested before, it’s not just his film, as we get similar time and depth to the other characters that make them just as vital to the film. Aaron Eckhart is one of my favorite underrated actors, as he’s shown his skills across genres, while sometimes, hitting multiple different notes in the same film, as was the case with No Reservations, Thank You For Smoking and The Dark Knight, and he’s does the same here as Skiles and in another excellent performance. Also strong on the supporting side is the aforementioned Mike O'Malley, Anna Gunn and Laura Linney, but also Valerie Mahaffey as Diane Higgens and, in a great cameo, Michael Rapaport as a bar owner. Along with the strong writing, atmosphere and acting, the direction by Eastwood shows his expert control of the film’s multiple story threads and fantastic pacing of everything, the special effects of the landing are seamless and great and even the jazzy music score, done by Eastwood himself, is great and fits in well with the movie. When this opened in September, many people asked me if this is even a movie they would need to see, given their familiarity with the real-life story coming in, but even if you think you know everything about it and about Sully the person, Sully the movie has all that and a lot more to make it well worth your while and one of the year’s best.

8. Manchester By The Sea

For this, and the following two films I’m listing on this 10 best, I’m going to level with you. Unlike the 7 films you just read about, I didn’t give any of these next couple of pictures 4 stars when I originally reviewed them, because they all have noticeable issues that were enough to keep me from giving them that score that would infer that they’re either perfect or close enough to it. Having said that, what these three movies have in common is that they are stellar films that had unique and indelible effects on me when I first saw them but, more impressively, they’ve all stayed with me and have come back into my mind again multiple times as the weeks and months passed. That’s quite a statement, given how many movies I see and how even some of the films above haven’t resonated with me quite like these have, even though I do think they’re better and are totally worthy of the 4 stars I gave them. Manchester By The Sea is the new drama from writer/director Kenneth Lonergan, whose You Can Count On Me from 2000 was a great and underrated look at the complexities and despair of families brought together by tragedy, and so is this one, albeit via its laser-like focus on death, the grieving process that comes from it, the changes that come from it and, most significantly, the unique ways that we compartmentalize it, in terms of how we react externally and especially internally to it, the latter of which can, for some, be more painful for the wounds it reopens than even the tragedy of the death itself. This is one of the most celebrated movies of the year and, given how unbelievably engrossing, reserved and authentic it is about its subject material, there’s a good reason for that, even with some of its shortcomings.

Casey Affleck stars in a role that will deservedly get him an Oscar nomination (and perhaps a win) as Lee, a man living in the Boston apartment that he also works his job as a handyman in. In his job, he shovels snow from the sidewalks, does odd jobs and basic repair work for the other tenants and takes the garbage out for everyone. Yet, he has his limits, because he’s not equipped with the experience or skills to make heavier fixes, particularly the frequent plumbing problems he’s called about (he constantly tells people in that situation that they’ll need to get someone else in to fix them), he’s not always emotionally equipped to handle the tenants, particularly when he explodes on a woman who doesn’t take his “call a plumber” advice well or recoils from the sexual desire of another woman, and he really doesn’t care about much more than getting through the day, or for that matter, the night, where he often goes out drinking and then gets into a bar brawl because people looked at him in a weird way. Clearly, Lee has some baggage, and he’s given more when he gets a phone call telling him that his brother Joe (Kyle Chandler) has died of congestive heart failure, which results in Lee returning to his hometown of Manchester to manage the legal, familial and funereal details associated with his brother’s passing. One of the biggest elements to be handled is regarding Joe’s son and Lee’s nephew, Patrick (played by Lucas Hedges); he’s 16 years old now and, with his father’s death, the question comes regarding his custody until he turns 18, especially since his estranged mother, Elise (Gretchen Mol), is seen by Lee and most of the rest of the family as being ill-equipped to take care of him. Joe’s will addresses that concern, but does so by stating that Lee is to become Patrick’s legal guardian, something that Lee and Patrick were never told about. Lee begins watching over Patrick for a while, but struggles with whether or not it’ll be a permanent decision, especially given the very painful memories that Joe’s death has opened up and him being forced out of his recent isolation in Boston, particularly as both relate to Lee’s ex-wife, Randi (played by Michelle Williams), while Patrick tries to cope in his own way, alongside the limited assistance by Lee and the growing tension that comes from it, as well as with the help of his friends, including two girls he likes, Silvie (Kara Hayward) and Sandy (Anna Baryshnikov).

As you can likely tell, this is a pretty rich and dramatic film as far as its stories and characters are concerned, all of which are, in one way or another, reacting to Joe’s death in their own unique way and, of everything this movie does well, it’s this angle that impacted me the most, and it’s the most authentic and vital element of the film. To get a bit personal here, my grandfather died this past year (and, ironically, right before that happened, I was visiting Boston and slightly norther Massachusetts) and this movie’s depiction of death, the multitude of methods for and contradictions related to how people process it and the emotions that it brings out, is absolutely dead-on. The best scenes emphasizing this are the early scenes in the hospital and the morgue, where see just how muted Lee’s reaction to his brother’s death is, which is contrasted with the reaction of family friend, George (played by C.J. Wilson), who was with Joe when he collapsed and went with him to the hospital. Unlike Lee, who is bottling up his feelings (which we completely understand as the movie goes on), George is showing his emotions significantly more than Lee is and the byplay they share with the doctor and nurse in the hallway is brilliant and authentic, particularly how it shows the awkwardness as they talk about Joe’s death and the next steps to be taken. Because of how reserved Lee is with his feelings and how open George is with his (especially since the latter was in the unique and unenviable position of watching his friend die), they can almost barely talk to each other while, at the same time, of what emotion they’re showing, both seem to be acting as if they need to try to avoid becoming emotional, particularly when George apologizes to the nurses for starting to break down and we later see that out of Lee when he goes to see Joe’s body at the morgue, quickly appears to show some feeling over seeing him there, but quickly pulls himself back before almost immediately telling the doctor who brought him down there that “that’s enough.” We also see that later when Lee has to break the news to Patrick, the latter of whom had gotten into a fight with his hockey team and was angry and annoyed when Lee appeared because he thought it signified that “my father’s in the hospital again,” but when Patrick learns that his father is dead, we also see his initial reaction, which seems to be a hybrid of Lee’s detached aura and George’s outward expression. Yet, with Patrick (as well as the film’s other characters, in their own ways), we also get a very touching and believable sense of the evolution of his feelings, based on how he copes with the support of his teammates, his coach (played in a great cameo by Tate Donavan) and friends, but also, how the sight of seeing his father in the morgue (for an even briefer time than Lee did) and the news that the cold winter weather will require his father’s body to be preserved in ice until they can bury him in the spring shakes him to his core, to the point where even the sight of something as simple as frozen chicken in the freezer at home reawakens those feelings and emotionally overcomes him. There’s something quite amazing about how this movie captures the grieving process, as well as how it shows these characters, specifically Lee and Patrick through their relationship, reaching the point of being able to continue on with life as best they can, even with all the pain that comes from Joe’s death that, particularly in Lee’s case, shockingly has almost nothing to do with his brother’s death. Again, speaking from personal experience, even if the details of this movie are not exactly my experience (I certainly haven’t experienced the extremely dark demons that return to haunt Lee and Randi, which we see in pretty harrowing, but subtle detail in flashbacks), there’s such a great attention to detail and understanding to the characters’ compartmentalization of Joe’s death and their feelings resulting from it, that I deeply connected and felt for them, which the movie does in a way that, despite how heavy the subject matter is, didn’t depress me, but gripped and, in a strange way, uplifted me because of how dead-on accurate the film is (and I think it’ll have a similar effect on other viewers because of that). Credit for this goes to the strong writing by Lonergan, which captures the authentic chemistry of this cast, the strangely affecting and realistic sardonicism of the situations and the ebb and flow of how people talk, specifically in regards to the mixture of hostility and heart that often arise from such tense situations as we see here (specifically with Lee’s evolving bond with Patrick and a particularly heartbreaking surprise meeting that Lee and Randi have after Joe’s funeral), the appropriately deliberate pacing, and the layered, resonant and excellent performances from the entire cast, particularly Affleck as Lee (excellent in showing, often without words, just deeply scarred and now, emotion expression-phobic he is), Hedges as Patrick and, in their vital supporting roles, C.J Wilson,, Michelle Williams, Gretchen Mol and Matthew Broderick. In addition, the film has transporting and expert cinematography by Jody Lee Lipes, who perfectly captures the working-class and harbor town Massachusetts life in Manchester, as well as the feeling of the locations, particularly in the winter the film is set, in ways that complement the drama on both large and more intimate scales.

I also appreciate and understand the open-ended mentality of the film but, to be completely honest, I think it might have went a little too far with that. I’m not saying that this movie should resolve everything at the end (it shouldn’t), but there are couple of clear questions that the film raises as important elements that it refuses to answer or even hint enough to. For example, Lee’s alcoholism is presented in a refreshingly subtle fashion, but the movie is making the case that it has a detrimental effect on his current janitor job and later, on a potential job he could get in Manchester, but I didn’t feel we got enough of that. For the former, after Lee tells off one of his tenants, he tells his boss that he doesn’t care and that he’ll just make it better anyway without him losing his job and that’s it, while for the latter, we get the assistant of a mariner office telling the owner that, as far as Lee is concerned, “I don't want him coming here anymore," which is then completely dropped and results in an unsatisfying loose end that clashes with the main choice Lee has to make regarding his guardianship of Patrick. Speaking of Patrick, the relationship he has with the two girls he’s sexually interested in results in Silvie getting ditched in favor of Sandy, but annoyingly, it’s because the movie chooses for him. Again, I appreciate the lack of cliché (I’d have been more upset if it turned into a traditional love triangle or resorted to an emotional confrontation), but Silvie literally disappears from the film, which diminishes the ultimate resolution of that story arc. Same goes for the ending, which does fit for the whole “life goes on” mentality that the movie is going for, but still seems abrupt, as if one more scene beyond that would have been the perfect way to cap off an otherwise stellar, authentic and engrossing drama.

Also, I really disliked Lesley Barber’s music score here, which goes the operatic bombast route in a way that distracts from and, in some places, kind of diminishes the drama that’s already quite powerful on its own, not to mention how it also uses licensed music to inappropriately underline the emotions in ways the rest of the film doesn’t (namely, the resolution of Patrick’s girlfriend situation, which is terribly on-the-nose). Still, despite being an imperfect film, Manchester By The Sea is an impeccably crafted and acted drama that has the ring of truth about its characters and themes and, though I admired it a lot when first I saw it, its lingering presence and power makes me appreciate and love it even more now.

9. Hacksaw Ridge

Remember Mel Gibson? Yeah, he’s been out of the movies for a while following some well-known personal troubles, with an occasional return to acting every so often in smaller releases like Get The Gringo and The Beaver (the latter of which is a real hidden gem that he was excellent in). Yet, he was also a director, who won the Oscar in 1995 for making Braveheart and then, made other high-quality and super-violent personal projects like The Passion Of The Christ and Apocalypto. Now here we are 10 years after that latter film and Gibson is back to directing with Hacksaw Ridge, a World War II biopic about Desmond Doss, a Seventh Day Adventist from Virginia who became a medic and was allowed to enter the battlefield, despite having a religious opposition to killing and, more importantly, to carrying a gun. Hearing that, some may think this is a hypocritical and holier-than-thou religious lecture, and it does have its clunkiness early on, but as it goes along, it evolves in a way that no other film in 2016 did, before ultimately becoming one of the best and riskiest depictions of faith that I’ve seen in the movies in a while, as well as a gripping, expertly constructed, very brutal and authentic war film that reminds me why Gibson is such a great director and shook me up and had me on edge more than any movie in 2016.

Andrew Garfield stars as Desmond who, as we see as the film opens, is on the battlefield and being carried away on a stretcher. The film goes back in time to show us Desmond living in Virginia with his brother Hal and his parents, Bertha (Rachel Griffiths) and Tom (Hugo Weaving). At this point in time, Tom is a World War I veteran and, for reasons that we soon understand, he came back a changed man and now spends most of his day drinking heavily and, at times, takes the concept of corporal punishment of his sons a bit too far, which we also see for a period in Desmond. As the years pass, Desmond has become active as a worker at his local church, as well as following God’s teachings, and one day, when man’s leg is crushed while working on a car, Desmond helps him by trying to stop the heavy bleeding and take him to the nearby hospital. While there, Desmond notices that they’re asking for blood donations and becomes interested in doing so, especially when he meets a nurse named Dorothy Schutte (Theresa Palmer). At first, she dismisses his boyish crush on her, but Dorothy later agrees to go out with Desmond on a date and the two start to fall in love. Meanwhile, Hal has enlisted to fight in World War II, which devastates Betha and especially Tom and Desmond himself follows suit, albeit with the plan to become a medic by building on the knowledge of medicine and healing that his now fiancé Dorothy inspired him to expand. When Desmond gets to basic training under Sergeant Howell (Vince Vaughn) and Captain Jack Glover (Sam Worthington) and has to be trained in firearm handling, however, Desmond refuses to do so, citing his religious beliefs of non-violence and how he can’t touch a gun. This enrages Desmond’s superiors and fellow recruits, as well as results in him facing a court martial, but through it all, Desmond continues to hold to his faith, even to the point of refusing to name his attackers when he’s beaten up for being a conscientious objector. Ultimately, Desmond is allowed to go into battle as a medic and without carrying a gun, resulting in him and his squad being deployed to Okinawa where the rest of the movie takes place, and shows Desmond’s struggle to stay alive and heal his fellow injured soldiers amidst the hell of the US forces’ battle with the Japanese there.

In a sense, even with the faith angle of this story, the movie sounds like a pretty standard war film, what with its trajectory from the pre-war home life to basic training to the harsh realities of the battlefield and, as I suggested earlier, the beginning of the film kind of feels a bit hokey and clichéd in places, while also raising a lot of questions that were initially distracting. Although the relationship between Desmond and Dorothy is natural and Garfield and Palmer have good chemistry with each other, his good old southern boy routine and her initial reactions to it seemed a bit forced in places and I initially felt that the early scenes of Desmond becoming violent (namely, by beating Hal in the head with a brick) and Tom’s violence towards him were uncomfortable and seemed like loose ends. Yet, Hacksaw Ridge is a film that really evolves itself and its characters, to the point where what initially seemed like flaws surprisingly reveal themselves as the exact opposite. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen enough movies to know formulaic elements and that, in the case of films like this, when I see things like child abuse, my mind usually darts directly to the question of “what’s the reason for this?,” but those things stuck out to me early on, at least until the pivotal scenes that give me that “aha” moment that not only explained why the film did what it did earlier on, but also, quite impressively, improved said earlier scenes and did so without stopping the movie’s pace. Regarding Desmond and Dorothy’s relationship, there’s a scene before his court martial when she asks him why he’s stubbornly holding on to his faith as justification for his actions, even knowing they could very well send him in jail. Desmond’s answer to her question was quite a surprise to me, explaining his devotion to God and Dorothy in a way that, without giving too much away, reveals his inner vulnerability, depth and individuality as a person and how both his faith and his wife-to-be make him who he is. In that moment, every thought I had of what seemed like early film cliché with their relationship and Desmond’s character completely shifted in my mind, as it was something I didn’t expect, something that enhanced my personal understanding of and connection to Desmond and Dorothy and explained exactly why they were initially developed as they were. Same goes for the later scenes that dive into why Tom is as violent, drunk and bitter as he is and especially the late-film explanation of why Desmond can’t touch a gun, both of which show great complexity and depth regarding the characters’ natures and faith that provides a fascinating and deeper understanding of both to the audience, including the latter to both people of faith and those who are not.

I’ve heard some critics snidely knock this picture on the grounds of hypocrisy and being a religious/combat proselytizing effort, as it’s both an unabashedly faith-centric movie with a level of extremely harrowing and graphic war violence that still really well-made and thrilling. To me, I think that the religious side and the violent side of this movie go perfectly together and are downright necessary to emphasize each other, in both a physical and philosophical sense. Remember, we’re told all throughout this film by Desmond that he’s against violence, per the 7th commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Kill,” so the movie’s truly putting his beliefs to the test by showing us that line of thinking contrasted with the vivid, scary and visceral real-world violence he and we witness on the battlefield. Honestly, as far as this inspiring people to enlist for combat duty is concerned, given how real and horrifying some of the violence here is (as I said, I felt the tension and terror all throughout this, to the film’s extraordinary credit), Gibson is depicting a war zone that I highly doubt you’ll come out of the film ever wanting to be in. Then again, that also emphasizes our bond to Desmond and his fellow soldiers, as well as their mortality and dedication, in unique and tangible fashion, while also being in keeping with Gibson’s past films that also push violence towards characters with strong personal belief systems to the point of intended and, I’d say, justified repulsion (with The Passion Of The Christ being the most comparable example to this movie, especially given its similar religious angle). On top of all the violence, though, Desmond’s beliefs are also challenged from other soldiers who believe that murdering the enemy in the context of World War II with the pursuit of protecting the oppressed is morally and religiously justifiable, as well as from Tom, who tells his son that A, the world is unbelievably harsh, B, Desmond’s plan of being non-violent in a war setting is dangerous and unrealistic and C, that what war does to a man is sometimes enough to completely override whatever strong faith and religious beliefs they may have.

As such, the movie is pushing back in multiple ways on Desmond to really emphasize both the internal and physical struggle of him being non-violent in a theater where violence rules the day, which makes it all the more gripping, moving and inspiring as we see Desmond’s growth and how, as much as he talks the talk with his trust in God, he also walks the walk. There’s a scene in this movie that perfectly showcases that, as Desmond is left on the battlefield late one night and conducts a solo-stealth mission to find and recover the injured soldiers who weren’t found before his squad retreated. In another movie, seeing him try to avoid capture and murder from the Japanese soldiers while he keeps praying to himself that he can save "just one more" might not mean much, but here, after everything we’ve seen from Desmond and after seeing what he goes through, that really resonates here and reveals the unique form of selflessness, teamwork and sacrifice that he brought to his squad, along with the bravery of him and the other armed soldiers. This is important, because in real-life, we know people who always talk about their faith (of any religion) as the guiding light in their lives, but when the time comes to prove themselves through the actions, they can’t and/or won’t. Desmond was different, as is also proven in the real-life historical interviews with him over the end credits that perfectly correlate with how the film depicted him and his struggles and really makes his story deeply engrossing, moving and inspiring.

That both the narrative and visual sides of this film are as affecting and engrossing as they are is a result of many different things, but it’s especially a strong testament to Gibson’s strength as a director. Perhaps because he’s been out of the spotlight for so long and because of his well-publicized personal demons (even going back to the days when he was pretty prolific in the movies), but I almost forgot just how good a filmmaker he is, as he shows us once again with Hacksaw Ridge the passion, confidence and control that drives his movies. I’ve always said that there’s a difference between a film that’s directed and a film that’s “directed,” by which I mean the latter distinction is a case where there’s a tangible excitement as you watch a film that gives you the sense of its director providing a beating heart to it and, like with many of the directors I’ve covered with the earlier films on this list, that’s exactly what Gibson gives us here. This film is exciting because of how Gibson’s direction is laying its sights, sounds and characters out, how it’s pacing everything just right and how it’s drawing us completely into this world, while being supported by the film’s good script, effective music score, excellent sound design, strong cinematography and on-point period details (which I also have personal validation of from my grandmother who saw the film and, as someone who personally lived as Dorothy did during the war, told me this is exactly what it was like). Of course, we also have the acting, which is excellent all around, including Andrew Garfield showing the aforementioned evolution and authenticity as Desmond and the strong supporting work by Theresa Palmer, Sam Worthington, Luke Bracy, Vince Vaughn and especially Hugo Weaving, who’s giving a deeply underrated and Supporting Actor nomination-worthy performance here as Tom. As I said, this is a rough picture and if, like me, you have quibbles about it early on, it’ll require your patience, but as was the case with Desmond himself, your dedication and commitment to this great movie will get you far and reward you with this surprisingly excellent mix of faith and war.

10. Deadpool

If the facts that I didn’t like either Captain America: Civil War or Doctor Strange and that I had both Batman V Superman and Suicide Squad on my 10 worst list wasn’t enough of an indication, I kind of had enough of movies based on comic books in 2016. At this juncture, they seem to be an easy way to draw in comic fans with the promise of doing justice to their beloved franchises, often without actually doing so and with a subpar film for both fans and casual moviegoers that’s more of an excuse to push their omnipresent marketing of the brand. Given that, my hatred of, at the time, the last two Marvel Comics adaptations (Ant-Man and Fantastic Four) and also, the hype that always tends to come with movies like this prior to their release, I wasn’t really looking forward to Deadpool, even though I knew that it’s a politically incorrect, cynical, hacked off, and “bite the hand that feeds it” comic enterprise, which would sound like the comic book movie antidote that I’ve been looking for. Well, it turned out that it actually was the breath of fresh air for the genre that I feel it really needed, which I was happy about, but what really surprised me about Deadpool is that, for a movie that’s selling itself primarily on the back of, as my girlfriend put it, its wall-to-wall “Deadpool shenanigans,” it’s not only really effective at providing that and being a wonderfully twisted comedy/satire, but it’s also surprisingly substantial and resonant regarding its characters, their relationships and what makes them interesting on that initially base level.

Ryan Reynolds stars as Wade Wilson, a former Special Forces operative turned small time mercenary who, as the movie opens (after some pretty hilarious fake credits), we see in his superhero in massive air-quotes persona, Deadpool. He’s wearing a red and black spandex outfit and seeking a group of villains that, when he finds them, he ambushes and stabs to death. Not exactly a heroic action, but Deadpool himself says he’s no hero (as in, he literally tells the audience that after he kills them) and then, the film flashes back in time showing Wade’s days as a New York mercenary for hire doing odd jobs that the police won’t do and doing them in ways that the police definitely wouldn’t do. One night while at his beloved bar, Wade meets a prostitute named Vanessa (Morena Baccarin) and the two hit it off, not on the idea of sex (although that does indeed follow), but because of how strange their lives and interests are. As such, the two fall in love and after a few months of fun times together, Wade finds out that he has developed four forms of cancer and is pretty much guaranteed to die. This news hits him and Vanessa pretty hard, with Wade’s understandably strong pessimism driving a wedge between them, at least until one night, when Wade meets a man calling himself The Recruiter (Jed Rees). He tells Wade of his boss, Ajax (Ed Skrein), who runs a medical facility and The Recruiter claims that Ajax can cure Wade, while also giving him amazing supernatural powers. Wade agrees and, after undergoing an extremely painful operation, he is cured and given the powers he was promised (including the power of regeneration of his broken and/or cut off body parts), but with a catch. Wade’s body was horribly disfigured and Ajax holds him captive with the intention of selling Wade off on the black market. Wade escapes but, because of how he now looks, he feels like he can’t face Vanessa again and instead, hides himself under the outfit and alter-ego of Deadpool with the intention of finding Ajax and exacting revenge. Meanwhile, Deadpool’s violent antics get the attention of the only two X-Men left behind at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters (or, as Deadpool argues, the only two that distributor Fox could afford to put in the movie), Colossus (Stefan Kapicic) and Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna Hildebrand), who try to help Deadpool out, while also trying to convince him to join the X-Men, the latter likely being a futile attempt, given the endlessly acerbic, sarcastic and solitary figure that Deadpool presents himself as.

As if you couldn’t tell, the whole idea of the character of Deadpool/Wade is that he’s a pop-culturally savvy and self-aware soul who’s all about his Tarantino-esque movie, music and comic book satire, fourth wall breaking and lamp-shading of comic culture and film clichés by their names (which, given the cynical natures that I saw out of both Marvel and DC in 2016, I greatly appreciate). Yet, as the above synopsis hints at, there’s actually some great character development to him and the other characters, most notably Vanessa. The relationship between Wade and Vanessa really surprised me, because this movie avoids many of the usual comic book and romance film clichés regarding that and is a surprisingly authentic and touching portrait of two off-beat people who meet and fall in love because they like and have a tangible bond with each other. You wouldn’t think that, in a movie as risqué and clearly over-the-top as this (which we also see in the sex scenes, including a scene of pegging; look it up), we’d get a believable romance at all, let alone one that shames most of the major modern Hollywood studio romantic comedies, but we amazingly do, even to the point where, in the third act, the way that Wade and especially Vanessa act towards each other does have a strange understanding of human nature and of their relationship up to that point. Yet, their bond is also really funny in places, particularly the many scenes where the tell each other their background stories and express their passions to each other, my favorite being when Wade explains his fandom of George Michael and the band Wham! to Vanessa (I loved his justification for Make It Big being their best album and how his favorite song off of it, Careless Whisper, is one he’d play on a boom box and serenade her with outside her window, ala Say Anything). Yet, even after Wade becomes Deadpool, the depiction of his character still has the ring of truth to him, as we see that he’s not just a flat, repetitive and self-aggrandizing pop-culture referencing machine, but a real person who, in a sense, is lashing out because he’s wounded, but whose lashing out is still somehow dramatically believable, as well as really infectious and funny in his ribald way.

It’s kind of amazing that the characterizations also fit in so well with the film’s (and Deadpool’s) outrageous sense of comedy, which it does a great job of modulating between and expertly controlling. This is certainly a profane, violent and explicit R-rated film (a message that some parents didn’t get when they took their kids to see this, even as the marketing/Deadpool himself clearly emphasized that), what with its jokey sadism, vulgar parallels and direct-to-the-camera addresses, but somehow, it never came off feeling pushy, annoying, self-satisfied or unpleasant to me. The film does an excellent job of tonal control and of making it so that just when it seems like it would go too far, it doesn’t, but amazingly, without giving a sense that the film (or Deadpool himself, because it makes sense for his character) is pulling its punches. Credit for that goes to the excellent script by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, who wrote the similarly off-beat and knowing genre-twist, Zombieland, first time director Tim Miller, who shows an impressive sense of staging and managing the comedy, action and drama for a debut picture (despite some pacing dips and slight action scene choppiness here and there) and especially the lead performances. Sure, the supporting cast and characters are quite well done, but it’s hard to ignore the two leads in this film, Ryan Reynolds and Morena Baccarin, who have such great chemistry together and also, great timing and presence on their own.

Regarding who we see the most on their own, that, of course, is Reynolds as Wade/Deadpool and there’s something really special about him here. I’ve seen Reynolds in movies going back well over a decade ago and always thought there was more to him that meets the eye but, with the exception of a great supporting turn in 2009’s Adventureland, projects of his like The Green Lantern (which this film makes fun of, quite fittingly) and even decent films that he was OK in, like The Proposal, didn’t have me over the moon about him as an actor. With Deadpool, however, he found (or, in his case, actively sought out, since he loves the Deadpool comic and this film adaptation was a dream project of his) the right role and he absolutely shines here with his swift, joyous, infectious and vanity-free (he actually makes fun of his own acting talent; pretty gutsy) portrayal of Deadpool/Wade. Seriously, Reynolds is such a perfect fit for the character and is giving the kind of performance that I can’t imagine anyone but him pulling off even a fraction as well. His turn here is also a wonderful encapsulation of the late and great film critic Gene Siskel’s concept of “joy of performance,” which the idea of seeing an actor or actress giving a performance with such passion and joy, that it has a similarly tangible effect on the audience. Reynolds is having the time of his life in this role and he’s so full charisma and charm that we’re always with him in that same euphoric state, which adds a lot to the overall enjoyment of the film.

I can imagine some people reading this and thinking that Deadpool might not be their cup of tea, but remember, I went in with low expectations and without as deep a knowledge of the comic book as other people I know and came out quite surprised and satisfied. Given that, along with being able to please fans of the enterprise and for it being such a refreshingly fun, ribald and adult twist on the comic book movie genre (and also, far and away the best film in the genre I saw this year), it’s also a movie that I think will have a larger appeal than expected on the surface and it deserves to play to a larger audience, as its deeper qualities will also be appreciated by those who many not seem interested in comic films or risqué comedies. I felt that way when I first saw this back in February and, nearly a year later, I feel even more affectionate about it. And hey; any movie that uses Chicago's You're The Inspiration and the aforementioned Careless Whisper as cleverly and humorously as this does is going to be OK in my book.

OK, so with the 10 best films of 2016 revealed, what were the rest of the best? Time for my Honorable Mentions list which, as always is listed alphabetically and in no particular order of quality:

The Beatles: Eight Days A Week: The Touring Years

Director Ron Howard’s recent narrative films haven’t been seeing much success or praise (case in point, 2015’s awful bomb, In The Heart Of The Sea and, though I missed it, 2016’s apparently awful bomb, Inferno), but he made a pretty great and intriguing documentary this year about one of, if not the most eclectic, inspirational and ubiquitous rock bands in history, The Beatles. Eight Days A Week: The Touring Years, as the title would suggest, mostly focuses on Liverpool’s Fab Four humble beginnings in the early 60s and the following years between 1963 and 1966 when they toured the world and made everyone take notice. Now, given how massive The Beatles were and the plethora of historical accounts, documentaries and interviews we’ve gotten about them over the years, you may be wondering if there’s anything left that hasn’t been covered somewhere else before, but this film has a surprising amount of new and interesting information that it does a great job of collecting.

One of the biggest stories of this one is that it’s packing a plethora of previously unseen footage of Ringo, John, Paul and George during their touring years, which in and of itself is going to make this a must-watch for any Beatles fan (that it sold out at my indie theater for every show it had on the weekend it opened proves that), but much like 2015’s excellent and also musician-based Best Documentary Oscar winner, Amy, the way Howard and the editors catalogue and consolidate this new information alongside the well-known stories of band’s meteoric rise to stardom and live shows is done almost like a narrative picture. Yes, we do get the expected mix of archival footage and talking head interviews of many docs here, but it mostly spotlights the band with its new videos, which creates a pretty amazing aura that makes us feel as if we’ve been brought right back to the 1960s and are sitting with Ringo, Paul, John and George as they tell us their stories and, more importantly, provide revealing and intriguing new insights to them.

For example, the “we’re bigger that Jesus Christ” comment by John and the resulting fallout have been talked about a lot, but the new footage adds unique dimensions to it and, in this case, as well as others (like the security concerns over their plans to play a set at the Gator Bowl with a non-segregated audience and media questions as to whether their explosion of success in 1963 was just a flash-in-the-pan situation), the boys' quick-witted responses to media questions and to-the-point attitude regarding some of the personal and societal challenges they faced really let us understand their personalities, their camaraderie and the way it all went into their music in potent, subtle and surprising fashions. In addition, they add a sense of elegy to the film by hearing fresh perspectives from since deceased figures, namely George and John, as well as the heartfelt and insightful recollections by the surviving Ringo, Paul and others, including newsman Larry Kane, who joined them on their tour. Of course, it wouldn’t be a Beatles film without their music and, when combined with the new historical material, the film’s look at that is probably the most vital and vivid explanation of why The Beatles had the impact that they did. Listen, I could write multiple essays explaining in great detail exactly why The Beatles matter, but it’d just me telling you that something’s important with a mountain of information and support for that case, but without being able to replicate that “Aha!” moment where you personally say “yeah, I get it now.” Thanks to this film, if anyone ever asks you “why were The Beatles important?,” all you need to do is point to its music scenes and say “that’s why,” as the sheer joy, bond and magnetism that The Beatles exuded in their live sets make the case perfectly and, when combined with our knowledge of them from the movie and the 50s pop-inspired sound of their music (as well as the hints to their later experimental vibes), show them as a group that takes the audience/listeners on a journey with high-quality tunes that provide an escape from some of the harsh world realities of the time, but also, in a roundabout way, a timeless, relatable and cathartic push toward confronting and coming to grips with them. But if you somehow don’t feel that via the movie, you likely will when you see one of the best post-credits bonuses in recent film history; an amazing and crisp restoration of the band’s legendary 1965 Shea Stadium show in its entirety, and it’s quite a sight, both from a musical and cinematic perspective (but good luck seeing it now, because due to legal reasons, the DVD/Blu-Ray of the film is missing it; boo). Whether you love The Beatles or you’re either skeptical about them or have yet to be exposed to them, this is an excellent, entertaining and eye-opening slice of music and history, as well as the best documentary I saw in 2016.

Denial

Now, this is an interesting one, because I only gave Denial a 3-star review when I saw it back in October, but even then, I was surprised by how and why I liked it, especially because it was quite a bit different than I went in expecting, and now that I’m looking back on it, I think it’s better than I initially gave it credit for. Then again, I think it also helps that I later saw the disappointing Loving, which was also a quieter and less operatic “based on a true story” legal drama that totally botched the law angle of its story, both substantively and tonally, which highlighted the strengths of Temple Grandin director Mick Jackson’s film more and make it stand out as probably one of the best, bravest and most fascinating cinematic depictions of the legal system and the concept of morality within it that I’ve seen in a while.

The movie is a biopic, of sorts, about Emory University Jewish studies professor Deborah Lipstadt, played by Rachel Weisz, who in 1994, had just written a book called Denying The Holocaust, where she decried anti-Semites who refused to accept that the mass extermination of the Jewish people by the Hitler and the Nazis actually occurred. One of her targets was David Irving, played here by Timothy Spall, who comes to one of her book signings demanding actual proof that the Holocaust happened and decrying her for even refusing to debate the validity of it, which results in him suing her for libel, but under the British legal system which, unlike the US law system, has the burden of proof fall on Lipstadt to prove she didn’t libel Irving, as opposed to requiring that Irving prove that she did libel and damage him. The movie mostly shows the details of the late-90s court case, Irving v Penguin Books Ltd, focusing on the side of Lipstadt and her legal defense, led by head solicitor Anthony Julius, played by Adam Scott (probably best known as Moriarty on Sherlock) and head barrister Richard Rampton, played by Tom Wilkinson, and showing them building and shaping their case before executing it against Irving.

Based on the sound of that, you may think that Denial is one of those typical timely and overly emotional acting showcase biopics, and indeed, I went in expecting that myself. In fact, the actors in this film are actually the reason I went to see it, because I like Andrew Scott, Tom Wilkinson and Rachel Weisz, but what really sealed the deal for me buying a ticket was the presence of Timothy Spall, who I honestly think is one of the best currently living actors there is, so I wasn’t going to miss his latest movie. Surprisingly, the acting kind of takes a backseat to what’s actually more of a detail-driven law procedural and, to be honest, I’m still of two minds regarding that, at least as far as the acting is concerned. Don’t get me wrong; the performances are good, for sure, but the only roles I’d say are irreplaceable are the ones by Scott and especially Wilkinson, because they’re the ones who we really get a good idea of the motivations and internal conflicts regarding. Weisz is interesting as Lipstadt and plays the idea of her being appalled at the seeming lack of heart and compassion by her legal team well, but the film doesn’t give her enough to go into some of her own prejudices related to that and the British system and, as far as Spall playing Irving, yes, Irving was undeniably a Jew-hating racist and, though Spall isn’t exactly playing him in a cartoonish role, there’s a missed opportunity to go deeper into the human development of the hater. Specifically, we get one scene where Irving is playing with and showing love to his granddaughter and we do see how Irving’s articulate and seemingly intelligent presentation convinced people that he was correct, but we don’t get enough of either to hit that home and neither does Spall, who I know for a fact based on his past work could dive deep into Irving if the film let him go all the way.

Even so, the depiction of the details of this case and the machinations of the rules of law more than compensate and they really make the film stand out. It’s absolutely fascinating the way it takes a cold look at the facts of this in a way that, as I said earlier, upsets Lipstadt greatly and has some of the other characters thinking that the legal system is heartless and uncaring, but ultimately reveals the method behind the system’s madness, if you will, starting with the initial preparation for Lipstadt’s argument. Lipstadt thinks it’s as simple as saying “no, I didn’t libel him,” but the lawyers look at the exact words she used in her book and, to be honest, she kind of did and they argue that the way she made her point there will make her vulnerable to losing, especially if she takes the stand in her own defense. As such, they decide on a new plan; shape the case not on the idea of libel, but on the idea of proving that Irving falsified historical records using physical Holocaust evidence and that Lipstadt’s words were factually true. Yet, they’re limited on that front, too, because the Nazis destroyed most of the evidence of what they did, especially at Auschwitz, where Lipstadt and her team visit for something to use. Lipstadt then suggests that they have Holocaust survivors take the stand and give testimony, but the lawyers shoot that down immediately, thinking that it’ll play right into Irving’s hands, resulting in him tearing apart their verbal accounts, emotionally destroying them and creating enough doubt to win the case.

In a way, the perspective of the lawyer characters and, ultimately, the movie itself, goes at odds with what the audience is expecting and both know it’s a tough sell. How do you take something as emotionally charged as the Holocaust and then, strip the feeling out and focus on facts and strategy that, in actuality, show the beating heart and strong moral power of the law? Well, in both cases, they find a way, but as far as how the film does it, there’s so much attention to detail captured here by writer David Hare and everything is so well-paced by director Jackson that, even though we’re inundated with law/case details, not for a second is any of it overwhelming, boring, or anything less than mesmerizing, and we have enough character involvement to have a rooting interest in the outcome (even if you go in knowing the case and its final outcome). So, yeah, it’s a bit more of a low-key dramatic effort than you may expect, but it works in its favor and, especially if you’re interested in law or like films about it that actually understand how it works/can work, this is a special one that you’ll likely respond strongly to.

Jason Bourne

As I was looking back at the 20 films I selected for this Best Of survey for 2016, I was curious to see if there was a film I really liked that most people/critics didn’t, as was the case with Child 44 in 2015. Technically, there weren’t any for 2016, with the possible exception of the fifth entry in the Bourne film series, Jason Bourne, which, admittingly, does not start out well, but soon turns into a gripping and exciting action thriller with good performances and one of the best action scenes of any movie I saw this year.

Unlike the 4th film in the series, The Bourne Legacy, this one sees the return of co-writer/director Paul Greengrass to the series, as well as Matt Damon in the title role as the once amnesiac government engineered spy/killing machine who, this time, has gone completely off the grid after exposing the CIA’s Operation Blackbriar program. Jason’s former CIA rogue operator friend, Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles) is still in the business of hacking and revealing her previous employer’s dark Black Ops programs, including the Treadstone operation that turned Jason into the soldier he was, as well as their latest, Ironhand, which they’re conducting to spy on people using the new social media program, Deep Dream, and its creator, Aaron Kalloor (Riz Ahmed). Jason gets involved because not only is the CIA still keeping their eye on him and attempting to bring him in, as lead by director Robert Dewey (Tommy Lee Jones) and the agent that discovered Nicky hacking them, Heather Lee (Alicia Vikander), but also because Nicky’s information contains new details about Jason’s father who, as we learn, was also an agent like him. Meanwhile, a former Blackbriar member (Vincent Cassel) is hunting Jason under the CIA’s orders, but has a personal desire to kill Jason for betraying the cause.

The surveillance techno-jargon plot may be a bit too heavy for some and for me, it was too much during the first 30 minutes of this movie, where it’s repetitive, jumbled and predictable. Also, the action during that time, particularly the riot in Greece, is way too chaotic with its overuse of the shaky cam that make it incoherent, but not in a way that makes narrative sense or makes them more exciting (think more The Bourne Supremacy, the series’ worst film, as opposed to The Bourne Ultimatum, the best). Based on that, this shouldn’t be anywhere near a Best of list, but amazingly, the film does a 180 after the opening half-hour and really engrossed and entertained me, starting with its story that uncoils itself deliberately, but in a way that keeps our attention, builds suspense and does a great job of laying out the motivations of Jason and the other characters in a dramatically interesting and satisfying way (also, that’s helped by the good acting from Matt Damon, Julia Stiles, Tommy Lee Jones, Vincent Cassel, Riz Ahmed and Alicia Vikander, the latter of whom is better here than in The Danish Girl, for which she won an Oscar last year). The film makes its real-world parallels regarding government surveillance, including the very Apple-inspired company that hypocritically argues that Deep Dream will protect the privacy of its users play as authentic and complex without feeling heavy-handed or lecturing and they mesh well with the human drama of Jason and his psyche, which is surprisingly reserved and strong angle on that, especially in the third act. At the same time, the movie effectively blends the action to its storytelling so that there’s a tangible forward momentum to everything that makes the build-up to the big action setpieces (such as Jason being tailed in Berlin or going through a crowd at a Las Vegas tech convention) work on their own, while also conveying the plot details and revelations effectively and without breaking pace.

Speaking of those action setpieces, unlike the earlier ones, the camerawork settles into a reasonable, understandable and thrilling arbiter of the confusion and chaos that occurs which, in conjunction with our attachment to the story and Jason, makes them really exciting, investing and surprisingly believable in ways that, in another movie, may have felt too silly and overblown. The best example is also the film’s (and arguably, the year’s) best sequence; an exquisite extended car chase through Las Vegas with Jason in a sports car and the Blackbrier member in an armored police truck that uses the different weight, dimensions and physics of the vehicles to make the truck trying to run Jason off by hurtling parked cars it crashes into towards him feel real, harrowing and exhilarating. I wouldn’t argue this is a better film than The Bourne Identity or Ultimatum and it does take its time to kick into high gear, but when it does, it’s pretty excellent and it stands out among some of the other overblown and empty big-ticket action films that we got during the summer it released and throughout the rest of this year.

Keanu

You know the stock film critic line about how “you’ll laugh until it hurts” for a comedy? Well, in the case of Keanu, that’s not hyperbole, because I was feeling some pain (but in a good way) from just how hard and often I laughed at this hilarious drug crime satire from director Peter Atencio and starring Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele, all of whom collaborated on the cult sketch comedy TV series, Key And Peele, a show I’ve never seen but, on the back of this fantastic movie, I think I really need to get into.

The film stars Key and Peele as cousins in LA, but while Key’s Clarence is happily married with children, Peele’s Rell just broke up with his girlfriend and is really depressed. One day when Rell opens the door, he sees a small and cute stray cat sitting there, which he takes an instant liking to and begins to care for (while also using the cat, which he names Keanu, after his favorite actor, as a model for a hilarious movie scenes calendar he’s making). Clarence is also smitten with Keanu when he sees him but, after Clarence and Rell return home from a night out, Rell’s apartment is trashed and Keanu is gone. It turns out Keanu actually was a runaway from a ruthless drug dealer in the local criminal underworld, so Clarence and Rell attempt to blend in with the local gangster culture (a change from their nerdy and semi-ordinary lives, for sure) to try and save their newly beloved feline. That’s the setup and indeed, you can get the sense that it could have been an extended TV show sketch, but the devil is in the details and the craft, which, on both fronts, this movie stands out with and delivers great laughs due to.

Unlike The Boss, a horrible film that was also kind of a glorified TV sketch comedy movie, this one is really funny, actually cares about giving us the right amount of narrative and character development, investment and consistency to drive the humor, and most importantly, keep things moving and keeps surprising and amusing the audience. For example, of course they need to act “gangsta,” but all they know about that culture is from movies and rap music, so they have to fake it by putting on thug personas and speech patterns to fit in, of which the dichotomy between that and their actual ordinary lives are hilarious and socially provoking. Yet, the movie, like any great comedy, keeps adding new and uproarious extremes that they need to go to in order to keep up their farce, including delivering on their bragging about being able to do parkour-esque backflips off of walls or in film’s best sequence, which cross-cuts between Rell giving an improvised drug-dealing tutorial by visiting a house owned by a certain celebrity playing themselves and Clarence sitting in his mini-van on watch with his new gang members while using his favorite song, George Michael’s Father Figure, to help him fabricate a false gangster-friendly narrative about his “tough inner-city upbringing.”

To be fair, the film does have its moments of “stop” regarding its pacing (particularly in the third act), which are more noticeable because of how strong its forward momentum mostly is and, because of that, I don’t know if the movie would have been able to sustain its running time if it were longer than 100 minutes. But even when it did slow down, I still was eagerly awaiting where it would go next and did have a rooting interest in Clarence, Rell and little Keanu, credit of which has to go to the sharp script by Peele and Alex Rubens, the good acting (including Key and Peele’s dynamite chemistry and timing) and its expert balance of tones that effectively shift between the film’s equally effective over-the-top comedic elements and its quieter and subtler elements (love the movies Pell picks for his calendar) and, for the film’s more outrageous and politically-incorrect comedic moments, makes them land successfully without feeling too offensive, nasty or grotesque (which, in a lesser movie, they all easily could have). Like Deadpool, this is a great, infectious and hilarious 2016 comedy that, even for people reading this that think they may not want to see a film like this, should be able to and deserves to break out into a wider audience. And hey; since both films are knowing crime movie/social satires that also share a love and appreciation for movies, pop culture and George Michael, they make excellent companion pieces to each other, too.

Kubo And The Two Strings

I said when I praised Finding Dory that 2016 was a great year for animated films and indeed, I have 3 movies in that genre that were great enough to make my 11-20. Of those three, my favorite (and the hardest one for me to exclude from the top 10) was Kubo And The Two Strings, the latest stop-motion animated effort from Laika, the Oregon-based studio that constructed and released the great Coraline in 2009 and, I’m sorry to say, not much else of that quality (Paranorman was great for its first 30 minutes, but settled for just being decent after that and The Boxtrolls was empty junk that used its pretty visuals to try and fail to hide that it wasn’t about anything narratively). Kubo, however, was the return to form for Laika that Finding Dory was to Pixar this year, as it's a gorgeously animated, artistic, atmospheric and entertaining effort that also has strong character development, storytelling and a tangible emotional pull to totally invest, intrigue, amuse and move us regarding its world, story, themes and characters.

The film is about Kubo (Art Parkinson), a young boy with the power to control origami by playing notes on his shamisen, which he uses to tell stories and make money in the local town square by day before returning home before the sun sets. He does this to support himself and his mother, the latter of whom is mysteriously comatose during the sunlight (but at night, she returns to normal), while also avoiding the dangers that his mother told him about, particularly regarding his grandfather, The Moon King (Ralph Fiennes) and his aunts, The Sisters (both voiced by Rooney Mara), who killed Kubo’s father, Hanzo, and have been hunting for Kubo by night to kill him and take his eyes (between this and Coraline, Laika’s got a thing with eye removal it seems, but not in the icky way of stuff like Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children or The Neon Demon). One day, when Kubo visits his father’s gravesite during the town’s celebration of the spirits, he doesn’t realize that the sun has went down and The Sisters find him and try to kill him and the town’s citizens. His mother finds them and sends Kubo off to safety before sacrificing herself to save her son. Upon waking up, Kubo finds that his good luck Monkey statute has been brought to life by the magic his mother used to save him and Monkey (Charlize Theron) tells Kubo that she’ll protect him, but that he’ll need to find the three pieces of the legendary armor of Hanzo in order to defeat The Moon King and The Sisters, who are still looking for him. Along the way, Kubo and Monkey meet an amnesiac samurai beetle, (Matthew McConaughey) who was a former disciple of Hanzo who has since been seeking to break his curse of being turned into a beetle and, after finding out that Kubo is his deceased master’s son, vows to join him on his journey and help in any way he can. The rest of the film follows Kubo, Monkey and Beetle on their quest to find the armor, while avoiding Kubo’s murderous extended family and while Kubo, Monkey and Beetle start to operate a bit like an alternative family on the way, what with Monkey and Beetle arguing about what’s best for Kubo and Kubo shifting between tuning out their arguments and using his shamisen powers for fun and, later, useful function.

The film’s fantasy atmosphere and mythos are heavily rooted in Asian culture, which complements the movie and gives it gravity on both an aesthetic and narrative level. Regarding the film’s look, it’s absolutely beautiful with its soft color choices, moody lighting, woodcut art style and smooth stop-motion animation that truly draw us into this world and give it a unique and delightful identity. I especially love the scenes with Kubo using his shamisen, which are really clever and inventive, while also showing the film’s visual craft and giving it tangible weight and elegance, but I also like the way the film’s artistry is emphasized in the film’s quieter and less action-packed scenes to create a great sense of time and place, which also dovetails wonderfully with the movie’s story and characters. In particular, the film has a strong focus on personal growth, family bonds and death and it explores all of these themes in an impressively mature, patient and resonant fashion. From the start, I loved how the movie is very coy about its narrative details, before deliberately and effectively peeling back its layers in both clear and subtle ways that equally capture our attention and intrigue. I first noticed this in the early scenes between Kubo and his mother, with him caring for her as she’s non-responsive during the day and with hardly any words being spoken. That really drew me in and had me curious as to what was happening and how it connected to the rest of the film which, when we do understand, was really satisfying and touching to me. The movie has many passages like that, which show its willingness to take its time to set a mood, give us quiet moments to reflect on its significant story and character developments and give us subtle details to hint at future events to come (but not in a way where we’re predicting where the film is going to go), all of which say and mean more than the usual overly expository and/or long-winded explanations that we sometimes get out of films like this.

For that, credit must be given to director Travis Knight who, for the most part, paces the film quite well, as well as screenwriters Marc Haimes and Chris Butler for developing this world and its characters so well and so infectiously matter of fact (which plays well for both the film’s strong emotions and its few, but genuine and effective stabs at humor). In addition, the movie is further bolstered by its great stop-motion animation, sweeping cinematography, high-quality and well-modulated music score by Dario Marianelli and the pitch-perfect voice acting, particularly by Art Parkinson, Charlize Theron, Matthew McConaughey, Ralph Fiennes and, in a very nice supporting role, Brenda Vaccaro. It’s too bad that this film wasn’t a bigger hit at the box office, but then again, I personally know a lot of people who went to the theater for it and still swear by it today, and it had a strong critical reception and resonance that seems just as strong today, perhaps showing that not every film has to make millions of dollars to leave its mark and that the heart and soul of this one will likely cause it to be held in high regard and fondly remembered as the years go by (and deservedly so).

Kung Fu Panda 3

The animated triumphs of 2016 continue with, surprisingly, one of the year’s earliest films, animated or otherwise. Kung Fu Panda 3 came out last January, a time of a year not usually known for delivering great (or even good) movies, but just like the original and great Kung Fu Panda from 2008, this one beats the odds and gives us a lovely, brisk and quite enjoyable entertainment that has more to it than its cute and cuddly surface may suggest, while also being a rare third entry in a series that doesn’t besmirch its earlier entries and shows that it has a lot of kung-fu life and energy left to offer both kids and adults.

As is the case with all the films in this franchise, we follow Po (Jack Black), the once comic-book fan-esque panda living in anthropomorphic animal-filled China with dreams of becoming a great martial arts fighter. Well, in the last two films, he got his chance and has since become the legendary Dragon Warrior, fighting for truth, justice and the animal way alongside the Furious Five, consisting of Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Mantis (Seth Rogen), Viper (Lucy Liu) and Crane (David Cross). This time, Po is continuing his training and attempting to master the art of Chi, per the teachings of the late Master Oogway, but within the Spirit Realm where Oogway is now permanently residing, his old apprentice, Kai (J.K. Simmons) has stolen Oogway’s Chi and has formed a portal to Earth, where he plans to defeat all of the living kung-fu masters to obtain ultimate power. With Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) soon to be retiring, it will be up to Po to lead the Furious Five in continuing their training and keeping China safe, but after some mishaps in his new role as teacher and his continued struggle with mastering his Chi, Po fears that he may not be able to transition into his new role. One day, a panda name Li Shan (Bryan Cranston) shows up at the noodle shop of Po’s adoptive father, Mr. Ping (James Hong) and reveals that he’s Po’s biological father, who came from a far-away mountain village inhabited almost completely by pandas. After learning that Kai has escaped, Po and Shifu find an ancient scroll that explains how Oogway, in his earlier years, was healed by the pandas, who are masters of Chi, leading Po to travel to the mountains to find the pandas, try and discover his Chi and also, attempt to train his father and extended panda family in martial arts to help him and the Furious Five in their impeding battle with Kai.

What I like so much about all of these Kung Fu Panda movies is how they expertly blend their humorous and self-aware (but not annoying or pop-culture obsessed) comedic sensibilities with their exciting, yet also frequently (and surprisingly) meditative and dramatic view of Asian martial arts, spirituality and legends. If you haven’t seen any of these movies, you may be shocked to hear that such disparate approaches work so well when brought together, but they do, because of how well each half complements the other and how expertly they handle their tonal shifts. Kung Fu Panda 3 operates in the same way, as it naturally shifts between its moods and, as a result, creates a tangible attachment to the world and characters of the movie. Regarding the latter, we find their jokes funny, their personalities interesting and infectious and, when the movie asks us to have an emotional investment in them, we really do, and it’s in that latter department where this film is arguably the strongest in the series. To be fair, we have seen many animated family films about the search for one's self and changing family dynamics, especially as it relates to alternative families and adoptive parents, but like my other favorite Dreamworks animated franchise, How To Train Your Dragon, there’s such earnestness, warmth and believability to them that they transcend cliché and feel wonderfully fresh and involving. Probably the best example of this is the back and forth between Li Shan and Ping regarding Po. In 9 out of 10 other movies, it would just be about the fathers’ jealousy and, perhaps, hatred of each other as it relates to the person that they view as “their” son, and this film suggests a little bit of that when Li Shan is first introduced, but then we get two later scenes that completely change our expectations and reveal just how complex, intelligent and, dare I say, societally useful the film is regarding its look at adoptive parenting is. One shows Ping alone by himself after Li Shan arrives, as Ping meditates on how he’s happy for Po finally able to meet his birth father, while also acknowledging to himself that this is the day he knew was coming ever since he took in Po as his adoptive son and how bittersweet it is, not so much out of anger towards Li Shan, but out of fear of how or if it may change Po and Ping’s bond. The second is the expected scene where Li Shan and Ping bury the hatchet, if you will, but the way it plays out is in no way how you may expect it to (and I won’t give away why) and, in a year with many intelligent depictions of the differing perspectives of parents/parent figures to children such as Moonlight and Pete’s Dragon, this movie’s look at it still stands out strongly, even nearly a year after its release.

Along with the film’s strong dramatic side, its comedic streak is quite funny and charming, including new angles on Po's tendency for fanboyish excitement, unorthodox training methods and some wonderfully knowing twists on some expected jokes (my two favorites being the scene of Po and Li Shan discovering who each other are and a pretty hilarious aside with Po's top imitator in the village), as well as the expert timing of the entire cast, including series veterans Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan and others, as well as the excellent new additions of newcomers like Bryan Cranston, J.K. Simmons and Kate Hudson (the latter of whom I’m very happy to see in another worthwhile role after a particularly painful post-Almost Famous decade and a half period of her slumming it in junk). In addition, this is a one gorgeous looking and wonderfully atmospheric movie, with great animation, excellent fight choreography, sweeping cinematography, sumptuous usage of color and some impressively varied, yet seamlessly integrated changes in animation style from the traditional CG animation, including passages using hand-drawn anime style art and calligraphy-inspired touches. Even though this was a very early release in 2016, it’s still stuck with me nearly a year after the fact and, whether you’ve seen the other two Kung Fu Panda films or will have this be your introduction to the franchise, it’s an excellent one for both kids and adults that, like many of the best major releases, will give you everything what you’d expect/want from a film like this, as well as a lot more for your money.

La La Land

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard a lot about La La Land, Damien Chazelle's acclaimed modern day musical that’s probably the Oscar front-runner in many’s’ eyes, which has also resulted in a backlash against it in the eyes of others, many who think there were better movies in 2016. Well, I agree with the latter viewpoint in saying it wouldn’t be my pick for the year’s best film, but I also think it’s deserving of the critical praise it’s gotten and is worth pointing out on my 11-20 list. I was actually surprised how much I enjoyed this, given that questioned if it would live up to the pre-release hype that was surrounding it and also because I didn’t like Chazelle’s last film, the overrated Whiplash, but this is an effervescent, joyous, authentic, passionate and expertly constructed effort with a great mix of fun and depth.

The film is set in current day Los Angeles and focuses on the bond of two people with dreams of show-biz stardom. Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) is a jazz pianist who feels that his beloved music genre doesn’t have the respect and societal clout that it once did, believing that he can do his part to change that by opening up his own jazz club, while Mia (Emma Stone) is a barista at the coffee shop on the Warner Bros. studio lot who has dreams of breaking out as an actress, even as she goes through multiple auditions with apathetic casting directors. The two meet after Sebastian is fired for freestyling in his job as a restaurant piano player and after Mia had another failed audition, resulting in the two forming a bond and budding romance over their hopes and dreams, as well as their ideals about their specific craft. As their relationship continues, they both find new opportunities to help jump-start making their desires a reality, with Sebastian finding a jazz band touring gig with old friend Keith (John Legend) and Mia getting the idea to write and produce her own one-woman stage play, both of which seem to be putting them on the paths they want, but also revealing the economic challenges related to them, as well as the stress that they could put on their relationship.

This film kind of reminded me of The Artist, another recent ode to a golden era of Hollywood and studio filmmaking, in that both movies are effectively stylistic and nostalgic exercises of their genre (in The Artist’s case, it was the silent comedy), but they also have their own unique perspective and identity that keep them from feeling like merely empty imitations of their clear inspirations. In the case of La La Land, it’s clearly tipping its hat to the golden age of music, show business and the movies (and doing a great job of it), yet it’s impressively filtering and contrasting the aura of that classic style in an intimate, intriguing and down-to-earth fashion through the modern eyes of Sebastian and Mia. I really like how this movie gives these characters the time to ruminate and discuss their passions, and there’s enough of a sense that both understand and love what they’re discussing with each other that their feelings of excitement and investment in their life interests and dreams tangibly connect to them both, as well as to the audience. I found myself really invested in Mia and Sebastian’s growth, credit of which has to go to the strong performances by Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling, who have expert rapport and chemistry together and make their story and relationship believable on every level, from the beautifully romantic scenes of their courtship to the harder times regarding the pursuit and non-pursuit of their dreams. As far as their musical talents are concerned, I think both actors are quite good in the way they handle the singing, dancing and, in Gosling’s case, music-playing (well, kind of; he isn’t actually playing the piano himself here, ala Simon Helberg in Florence Foster Jenkins), but Stone is the standout to me, as her unbridled passion and infectious nature (especially in the scene where she sings the film’s best and catchiest song, The Fools Who Dream) totally won me over in a role that, without hesitation, is the best performance I’ve seen her give in any movie she’s been in so far and one well-deserving of an Oscar.

And then, we get to the musical side of this film, which is absolutely outstanding. The instrumentation is great, there are multiple songs that I had stuck in my head and was whistling for days after seeing the movie, and the choreography and cinematography surrounding the music scenes are sublime, which exude a great sense of modern day LA (especially that thrilling opening on the traffic-jammed highway, seemingly done in one take and with many great tracking shots) and have masterful lighting, pacing, costuming and syncopation. Also, just like in the dramatic scenes, the musical parts of the film showcase its sharp writing and confident direction to make the experience of watching it a zippy and engrossing joy, even on multiple viewings (in fact, I liked it even more the second time I saw it, and I was a big fan on my first viewing). My only criticism has to do with some noticeable drops in the film’s pacing in the middle, which is strange, given how strong it is in both the quicker musical sections and the more deliberate dramatic parts, but still, and despite not being my best movie this year, it’s an excellent and joyous gem worthy of its accolades, both of the current and, quite likely, future varieties.

Little Men

One of the things I love about doing these massive best of the year film reviews is that, along with highlighting the movies I loved all throughout the year, it also gives me a chance to shine a light on the smaller gems that may have flown under the radar, but are well worth your attention on home video. Case in point; Little Men, the latest from Love Is Strange director Ira Sachs, which got a very limited release last August, but I was lucky enough to have it open where I live. Now, I get to share this observant, complex, authentic and affecting human drama with you, which has excellent performances, strong writing, an impressively lived-in modern-day Brooklyn atmosphere and an authentic perspective regarding its characters, their personalities and their dilemmas that make it well worth checking out.

Theo Taplitz stars Jake Jardine, a 14-year old boy mourning the death of his grandfather, along with his parents, Brian (Greg Kinnear) and Cathy (Jennifer Ehle). They’re moving from Manhattan to the Brooklyn apartment that the grandfather lived in before his death, which is attached to a small clothing shop that’s run by Leonor (Paulina Garcia), a lifelong friend of the grandfather who’s a single mother to Tony (Michael Barbieri). However, with the grandfather’s death, Brian and Cathy have to work through the logistics of the shop’s lease and the price of the rent, which Leonor was allowed by the grandfather to underpay on for years. Things get heated, as Brian and Cathy want to up the rent to increase their revenue, while Leonor fears that it will run her out of business and is adamant in wanting to stay, particularly because she claims that the current agreement is what the grandfather always wanted. Meanwhile, Theo and Tony hit it off based on their shared interests, including video games and their college plans related to the arts, with Theo having a passion for drawing and Tony having a love for acting, but they also notice the tensions rising between their parents and how it potentially could tear them apart and change their lives forever, a detail that also isn’t unnoticed by Brian, Cathy and Leonor.

Based on the setup of this movie, you may think that it’s running the risk of coming off as slanted and treacly and, considering similar films about complicated situations like this, I wouldn’t blame you. Thankfully, it avoids all of the potential narrative pitfalls by way of the strong script and acting that emphasize the film’s tangible and believable understanding of the depth of human growth and human nature. Regarding the story with the land dispute, the movie finds the gray areas of each side’s point of view, which makes the harsh realities related to them even more emotionally charged. For example, Brian and Cathy are not the usual caricatures of entitled elitists who just want more money and are unaware of their son, but a reserved and complex couple who love Jake and have their own financial struggles that dovetail with the death of the grandfather (particularly in the case of Brian, as we see in a silently tragic and perfect scene where he takes out the garbage one night, wonderfully conveyed by Greg Kinnear). On the other side, we understand where Leonor is coming from with the rapidly rising cost of living that she’s been able to avoid until now and how she’s unsure of how she’ll make ends meet without the store, as well as her passion for Tony that’s as much of a motivating force for her as Jake is to Brian and Cathy. That’s not to say that these characters are perfect angels, but yet, they’re not devils, either, and that, as well as the natural and excellent performances by Kinnear, Ehle and Garcia, helps us see that these are real people affected by this situation and that they want to do right by their families and themselves, even knowing that, whatever semblance of gain they may get out of this negotiation, they’re also almost guaranteed to experience some form of pain to go along with it.

Same goes for the relationship between Jake and Tony as they get more entangled in the battle over the lease, but even amongst that, we feel a great sense of their bond that forms the heart of the movie. Of everything I admire about the film, this is its greatest strength, as their relationship is completely believable and perfectly captures the way that friendships develop and grow, from the way they talk, to the way they grow closer over both their common interests and unique ones, to their own growth as teenage boys, the latter of which lampshades some of the clichés about sexual obsession and the social outcast status that tend to come with portraits of characters like these. Again, that’s thanks to the script and direction, but also to Theo Taplitz as Jake and Michael Barbieri as Tony. Simply put, they are both outstanding, as they convey the sense of naturalism, depth and sense of personal pride of kids their age and have dynamite chemistry with each other that always makes us feel their friendship is real. That, and they’re really funny, especially Tony with his tough-guy Italian disposition that I can certainly relate to, which also makes me excited to see what these two promising actors will do next (Barbieri, in particular, is already set to be in Spider-Man Homecoming, and I can’t wait to see what he does there).

In addition, the film has a great street-level atmosphere and cinematography that perfectly captures the essence of life and the shifting sense of modern-day working class Brooklyn that further enhances the believability of the drama and the direction by Sachs is patient and assured. I will admit that, even at under 90 minutes, it sometimes feels a bit longer than that, the bittersweet ending may not sit well with those who like closure (considering how it accurately reflects the realities of life in multiple different ways, I have no issue with it) and, as emotionally investing and natural the film is, that does not extend to the inappropriately swelling and pushy music score, but even with those quibbles, I still loved this film and, though it and its titular characters may be small, they both certainly have it where it counts.

Star Trek Beyond

It’s funny; the trailers for both this year’s Star Wars picture, Rogue One, and the latest Star Trek film, Star Trek Beyond, made them look like the opposite of what they actually ended up being (and proved why you can’t always rely on trailers as an indicator of whether a movie will work or not). Rogue One looked like a great and exciting elaboration on how the Death Star plans from A New Hope were obtained, but ended up being an empty, oppressive, thrill-free and unbelievable bore-fest that literally had me fighting to stay awake during it, while Star Trek Beyond, by comparison, looked like a cheesy, pushy, overblown and tonally schizophrenic extension of that series, but ended up being an airy, exciting and first-rate sci-fi entertainment with its tone actually fueling its success, instead of hindering it.

This is the third movie in the current Star Trek film series and it depicts the third year of the half-decade mission of the Starship Enterprise and its crew, led by Captain Kirk (Chris Pine). The weight of the job is still heavy on Kirk, despite the support of his sterling crew and the blunt words of wisdom from Dr. Bones McCoy (Karl Urban), so Kirk plans to take a vice admiral position at Yorktown after his current mission is complete. Before that though, Kirk and the crew are tasked with conducting a rescue mission of the planet of Altamid, of whom Kalara (Lydia Wilson) just barely escaped and, when they begin their approach to the planet, they see why when a surprise swarm of enemy ships assaults and destroys the Enterprise (and yeah, that is a pretty emotional moment on its own). The crew escapes before that, though, and their pods land on Altamid, which is ruled by Krall (Idris Elba), a warlord who shot the Enterprise down seeking the Abronath, a secret bioweapon that Kirk found on an earlier mission. After the crash, most of the crew is taking hostage, but the pods of Kirk and Chekhov (the late Anton Yelchin) went undetected, as were those of Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Bones. Scotty (Simon Pegg) also avoids capture, but he’s all alone until he finds and cuts a deal with Jaylah (Sofia Boutella), a rogue engineer who’s been trying to make her own way off of Altamid via an abandoned Starfleet ship from ages past. As such, the three groups try to find each other so they can find Krall and try to stop his plans, escape the planet and save the Enterprise crew and, ultimately, the galaxy from potential destruction.

The story makes this sound like pretty serious dramatic stuff, and the movie certainly doesn’t shy away from the heavy stakes here, but in a departure from the last two Star Trek films, Star Trek and Star Trek Into Darkness, the film’s tone is more of a hybrid of the previous films’ straight sci-fi drama sensibilities and a lighter aura reminiscent of the original 1960s TV show. As I said, the trailers made that mix of moods appear uneasy, resulting in co-writer Simon Pegg, a massive Star Trek and science fiction lover, responding with the promise that he and his writing partner, Doug Jung, were putting their money where their mouths are with the final product, and he was right, because they absolutely nailed it here. There’s such an infectious and unique jubilance to this film with its light touches and jokes, as well as some nice callbacks to the past two films (my favorite being the scene punctuated with a certain licensed song that introduced Kirk to us in the 2009 film), and some satisfying and subtle, but not intrusive or pathetic, tips of the hat to various Star Trek lore (note to Rogue One; this is how you do sci-fi fan service right). Even better, the film expertly manages and delivers these elements so that they perfectly dovetail with its dramatic side, which is great, given how many films, especially sci-fi films, tend to fall into the trap of pushing too hard with that, resulting in annoyance and the diminishment of its darker and more thematic character and plot developments. As far as the drama of the movie is concerned, it’s strong, investing and very well-done on its own, thanks to the strong writing that sets the stakes up well and create tangible, touching and surprisingly realistic characterizations and bonds between the characters, but because of the film’s lighter side, the drama is granted with a great matter of fact feel to it that makes its heavier elements more investing to us, but without feeling that the film is overly oppressive and depressing about it in the way some sci-fi films are criticized for (I didn’t see Star Trek Into Darkness, but I do remember that being a common complaint about it).

On top of all that, director Justin Lin does a great job of pacing and maintaining the film, the technical elements, including a seamless blend of practical and special effects, superb costumes and convincing makeup, are beyond reproach and draw us right into this world, the music by Michael Giacchino (who also scored Rogue One, ironically) is excellent, the action scenes are exciting and refreshingly coherent (even though they are edited a bit too quickly for my liking) and the acting is bursting with infectious charisma and chemistry, including Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Karl Urban (who's just priceless as McCoy), John Cho, the late Anton Yelchin (who’s so great as Chekov and will be deeply missed in the role), Zoe Saldana, Simon Pegg (who finds a perfect comedic and dramatic balance as Scotty), Idris Elba, Sofia Boutella and, in a small, but welcome role, Shohreh Aghdashloo. Whether or not you’re a massive acolyte of Star Trek, this is a great and breezy sci-fi adventure that’s likely the best pure representation of the genre all year, as well as a great pick-me-up if, like me, you felt burned by Rogue One.

Storks

I said with Jason Bourne that most of the films I’m covering on this write-up (except that one) were generally liked by critics, and technically, Storks was, too, but I’m really shocked that its positive reaction was as middling as it was. Well, I’m here to give this CG animated film from Warner Bros the praise it deserves, because this is an ingenious, surprisingly perceptive and wonderfully entertaining animated family film that’s also, much to my surprise, one of the funniest movies I saw all year. Seriously, not since Keanu did I laugh as loud and often at any comedy, animated or otherwise, than this and hey; like Keanu, Keagan Michael Key and Jordan Peele are also involved in this one (albeit in non-creative and supporting roles).

You know the story of where babies come from, right? Well, this film sure does; they come from Storks, who receive letters from aspiring parents, put them in a machine to create their dream babies and then, deliver them to the couples’ houses. Or at least, that’s how Storks used to work; now, because of all the dangers involved in the whole “delivering babies” business, they’ve dropped that and are part of an Amazon.com-esque delivery store in the sky called Cornerstore.com that delivers packages to their human customers. The company is run by Hunter (Kelsey Grammar) and he’s set to retire soon, which catches the attention of a delivery boy name Junior (Andy Samberg), who thinks he has a shot at becoming the new boss of the company. However, in order to do this, he first needs to fire Tulip (Katie Crown), an orphaned human who’s something of a janitor and often causes havoc, despite her good nature and intentions. Junior is too nervous to sack her, so he instead “promotes” her to watching over the long since shut-down baby-making department to get her out of the way. Meanwhile, a young boy named Nate Gardner (Anton Starkman) wants someone to play with and, because his parents Henry (Ty Burrell) and Sarah (Jennifer Aniston) are workaholic realtors, he writes a letter to the stork to ask for a sibling. Tulip gets the letter and is moved enough to start up the old machine, but Junior finds out and, fearing for his promotion and the fallout from a baby being made after a long dormancy, he scrambles to deliver the baby with Tulip in tow. Actually, he needs Tulip, because his wing got clipped and he can’t fly, but she has a flying contraption to help. The rest of the movie shows their attempts to deliver the child, while running into others that want the baby for themselves, including a pack of wolves (voiced by the aforementioned Key and Peele) and also, Nate preparing for the arrival of the baby by creating an elaborate landing pad on the roof that he may need to guilt-trip his parents into helping him complete.

It’s worth mentioning that this film was written and co-directed by Nicholas Stoller, who made 2008’s masterful comedy, Forgetting Sarah Marshall and just like that movie, Storks slowly reveals itself to be not just a great and hilarious entertainment, but also something more. The setup of this suggests a disposable family animated film banking on its post-modern twist of a premise (like some of the lesser Dreamworks movies like Monsters Vs. Aliens and Shark Tale), but it does a lot of interesting things with its conceit of “Storks can talk and don’t deliver babies anymore,” some of which are surprisingly rooted in a sense of authenticity regarding parenting, business and job details. Along with being an example of the filmmakers showing their dedication to making this movie work, that attention to detail enhances the film’s heart and makes us believe the bond between Junior and Tulip, understand the growth that they have in regards to their feelings for the baby they’re delivering (which also ties into the reason that the storks stopped delivering them) and have a rooting interest in seeing the baby get delivered to its family. On top of that, it really enhances the comedy because, like with the pathos, we get a sense that it’s coming from somewhere real and has an understanding of the glorious absurdities of its themes and subjects, both of which resulted in scenes that had me laughing loudly and often, my favorites being all the scenes with the wolves, the bond that Nate has with his parents when he finally gets through to them (which also skewer the usual clichés of kids and the parents who are too busy for them) and that classic scene when Tulip, all alone in the old storks letter writing department, make it feel more social by forming an group of imaginary co-workers out of herself, with extensive backgrounds and daily drama.

Honestly, the aura of this movie really reminded me of the old Looney Tunes cartoons, in that it’s a rapid-fire, expressive and witty exercise that’s easily approachable and appropriate for kids, but is also really funny in smart and non-boundary-pushing ways that will equally appeal to adults (which reminds me; there’s not an ounce of objectional content in this movie, so why was it rated PG?!). Also, like those old classics, this film has very colorful and detailed animation, the pacing is right on the money, particularly in the sections of comedic riffing (this is one of the few films I’ve seen recently that really understands the rhythm needed to make it work and not drag things down), the script is sharp and actually insightful in places, the use of famous songs, for once, aren’t on-the-nose, actually connect to the jokes and do the latter very well (love the montage set to The Talking Heads’ And She Was) and the voice acting is excellent. Actually, on the latter point, this is a rare animated film where the voice actors’ lines were recorded with them all in the same room together (as opposed to being done separately and mixed in later via editing), and it gives the characters’ back and forth discussions an impressively natural rhythm and immediacy that mirrors live-action performances we’ve seen them give and enhance the already great vocal work from this strong cast, including Andy Samberg, Katie Crown, Kelsey Grammer, Ty Burrell, Jennifer Aniston, Anton Starkman, Danny Trejo, Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key. As I said earlier, this one kind of flew under the radar and didn’t get the respect it should have when it released last September, but as the year’s best underappreciated animated film and comedy, it’s one well worth checking out on video for kids, families and even (or perhaps especially) adults alone. And with that, the year of 2016 in the movies is complete. And hey, just in time for wishing it a fond farewell tonight with the Oscars. Hope you enjoyed the list and here’s to more great cinema in 2017!

#BestMoviesOf2016 Film 2016

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bruceeves · 7 years ago

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Work # 960: SIX WORKS SEVEN ANECDOTES

When accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1958, Harold Pinter said that “there are no real distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily true or false; it can be both true and false.” What I propose here is to engage with six works I created over the past three years, a series of works that are mash-ups of gay history, art history, and my history refracted through the mashed-up lens of image abutting image and text atop image. The resulting elements of ambiguity engage memory – not exclusively, but not insubstantially either – and neatly echo the lack of reliability between real/unreal true/false posited by Pinter. “Memory” as Mary Warnock would postulate “operates under perpetual tension: the only way to cope with life is to learn what to forget; the only way to feel one has an identity is to remember.”

In 2007, after a months-long bout of self-doubt and self-recrimination, I decided to rent a booth in the Folsom Fair North, a self-described leather/fetish fair with a small artist section (mostly of the fifth-rate Tom of Finland variety) to decide once and for all whether or not to throw in the towel. More than anything else I was interested in feedback, and given the nature of the event equipped my booth with works exuding an s/m-ish aura. I had only one work on display that was unambiguously graphic – “Work # 740: Noontime Fun” (2006). This work is located at the intersection of sex and violence. It’s genesis began with the discovery of az text detailing the treatment of five men at the hands of a drunken mob as they were being led to the pillory to begin their punishment for “crimes against nature” in London, 1810. Published in Paul Hallam’s Book of Sodom and weighing in at a mere 1000 words, it is perhaps the most violently graphic piece of writing I’d encountered in some time. What set this text apart from the usual mundane homophobic screed was that the viewpoint of the anonymous eyewitness was uncommonly ambiguous and exhibited a level of sympathy for the men being tortured, and projected a grudging admiration for their courage. Authored during a reactionary lull in the relatively progressive pre-Victorian period, could it be that this brief account is perhaps the first known gay liberation text? Created for the 2006 Pride-themed “unstoppable” exhibition and addressing the theme through the layering of an historical text on top of a contemporary larger-than-life photograph of a bare-back butt-fuck, this work’s intent to shock was illustrated by the reaction of one viewer’s shift in focus from image to text in which he stated that on first seeing the work his ‘pants felt too tight, but then he started reading . . .’ but more pointedly, the work raises the disturbing and unanswerable question of just whom, exactly, is unstoppable – Us? Or Them?

Aside from earning about 20 cents profit at the Folsom Fair North, the one thing I learned from my afternoon spent in Allan Gardens in downtown Toronto is that when it comes to spending money on anything other than their outfits, Leathermen are cheap, cheap, cheap . . . they would stomp into the booth, eyeball the place and occasionally ask if a particular work comes in another colour, and stomp out again. With success and validation like that there was no question about sticking – purely out of spite. I realized it would be stupid to give up now (much to the annoyance of some . . . they know who they are).

I am not a gay artist – I am, frankly, beyond that. Where it was once a radical proposition to claim membership in the Homintern (a waggish rewrite from the 1930s of Lenin’s Comintern – Communist International), variously attributed to Jocelyn Brooke, W.H. Auden, and Harold Norse, as a means of describing a supposed conspiracy theory which claimed they a large number of gay men in elite positions controlled the arts, scholarship, and the theatre worlds. In truth, with the exception of a handful of posthumous big-ticket names, membership in this clan has gone from being a ghettoized liability (in spite of the early ‘70s opportunistic rock-star-pile-on) to enrollment in that small coterie of minority voices patronizingly acknowledged within an artworld dominated by straight white women at all levels of authority . . .

Regardless of the fact that that closet-case Susan Sontag referred to “the two pioneering forces of modern sensibility [being] Jewish moral seriousness and homosexual aestheticism and irony”, the problem of where I fit in persists – I’m far too queer for the mainstream art world and exhibit far too many dark moods and sharp edges for the gay world. A walk down Church Street in Toronto (or any other gay Main Street anywhere in the world) is like entering a theme park – it’s a trip down memory lane into a visualized world-that-never-was operating by a set of rules already long past the best buy date. It’s all so groomed; so well-designed; so heat and tidy and frozen in amber; so . . . non-threateningly middle-class.

I acknowledge that it may be a case of romanticism run amok on my part, but we were once less domesticated, more dangerous. As Victor Bockris pointed out, “there were instances reported in universities [in America during the early ‘60s] when healthy young men fainted, like Victorian ladies, at the physical approach of a homosexual. In fact, as Andy Warhol soon proved [albeit briefly] at the beginning of the 1960s the homosexual was considered the single most threatening, subversive character in the culture . . . [in fact] the uncomprehending attitudes common among straight [American} males toward gays in the early ‘60s put homosexuals on the level of communists and drug addicts.” I remember hearing stories after the gay liberation movement wentmainstream in the mid- to late-70s of single straight men becoming fretful (the poor delicate things ) of lunching alone with another man because of, shall we say, appearances.

Thus was our power to terrify.

What’s curious about the current wave of tolerance is that it extends only as far as accepting homosexuality in the abstract; but the binary divisions spring to life when those beleaguered sensitive heteros are forced to confront what we actually “do”. Universally everyone from Walter Pater to Walter Pidgeon have been reassuringly labeled as “asexual”, almost neutered drones; barely men at all. It would have been unthinkable to acknowledge that a revered art historian or beloved Hollywood straight man could possibly be, in the caustic words of Karl Ove Knausgaard from “My Struggle: Volume Four” “one of them?!”

His struggle, indeed.

While we’ve been allowed a certain degree of normality to envelope our lives (regardless of how tenuous and paper-thin it may be), I wonder about the things we’ve sacrificed in achieving this state of grace. Only a lunatic would want to return to life in the closet without the basic legal protections we currently enjoy, but in terms of our general quality of life we’ve been lulled into the smug delusion that the efforts of some have produced success after unalterable success. In Luc Sante’s words, “utopias last five minutes, to the extent that they happen at all. There will never be a time when the wish for security does not lead to unconditional surrender.” We have allowed, welcomed even, the wholesale corporate sponsorship of our existence, the benevolence does not lead to more freedom and creativity, it leads to less. The propositions that engender so much goodwill are dictated by the boardroom, and the boardroom is not interested in a wide-ranging creativity which affords dissent, but in predictable outcomes that translate into self-serving profit. On this point, Sante again states that “the official appropriation of history, however ostensibly benevolent in intent and graced with accredited consultants, will always be chary of the actual mess and stink of the past, and as a consequence they always gravitate toward the condition of the theme-park . . . History is a ways in the guns sights of planners and developers, and of reactionaries, who in the absence of a convenient past are content to invent one, winding their fantasies around some convenient nugget suitably distant and fogged by legend.”

The underworld (that place where real creativity flourished) has morphed into a lifestyle. This modus Vivendi is a classic case of cultural gentrification. Given the choice between a demimonde of outsiders and baby bankers in their freshly-ironed weekend leather, I tend to look left rather than right when crossing that street.

I fully recognize how controversial it is to express opinions different from the herd, but the curious tolerance I spoke of earlier blazes brightly with the seemingly instantaneous invention and alarmingly rapid acceptance of “trans” people. It’s obvious to me there is an overarching insistence that binary relationships remain paramount. Mainstream culture is very accommodating of a multiplicity of differences while at the same time insuring that those differences never deviate too far from reflecting the mainstream. The ‘metrosexual’ poses no threat because the construct operates within heterosexual supremacy; and what is a ‘lumbersexual’ except the 21st century hetero-appropriation of the clone that dominated our sexual imaginations forty years ago? With typically flat-footed dimness these annoying men concentrate on the lumber and completely ignore the sexual. As a social construction, the trans-identity is a homophobic one. It operates from a position of fear – it’s safer to be an fake-hetero than a genuine fag. I’m not anti-trans; I’m pro-sissy. The easy acceptance of gender reassignment is chillingly close to the Iranian mullahs who have no trouble with same sex relations provided that one of them becomes a woman. Even something as dreary as The Greatest Race Canada trumpeted having (an admittedly short-tenured) “trans”-contestant – clearly trendiness trumps truth in the marketing departments of the nation when not long ago ‘he’ would have merely been a bull-dyke, a category of person belligerently unfriendly to the aims of the corporate world.

My late-friend Marsha P. Johnson, co-founder of S.T.A.R. (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) was very much a he. Were he among the living (murdered under mysterious circumstances with the N.Y.P.D. as prime suspects) I’m sure he would have had a few choice words to share; I can hear Marsha’s voice . . . “I ain’t no trans! I’m a drag queen, honey . . .” Now that’s my kind of guy.

I’m a member of the pre-AIDS generation. After the death of my spouse in 2004 (from something refreshingly more banal than what you’re thinking) I was forced to confront an awakening – a second coming-out as it were – to a world that I barely recognized. And what I witnessed was horrifying. Aside from all the current right-wing trans nonsense, that we’ve done a pretty piss-poor job of making us like ourselves perhaps explains my perplexity with sero-conversion clubs, obviously self-destructive chem-sex, and the willful blindness of some to embrace political conservatism as if pining for the good-old-days when everybody hated us.

During the intermission of a Broadway performance of Bent, (a play by Martin Sherman set in wartime Germany and starring Ian McKellan and Richard Gere) after Act One had ended with the gunning down of one character by Nazi storm-troopers before the other two were hauled away to a concentration camp, I overheard the following synopsis giver to a second-acter – “it starts with this story about these two fags . . .” On another occasion, overheard in the darkened theatre the realization that Breaking the Code, (a moving play about the tribulations and torture faced by Alan Turing and starring Derek Jacobi) was “about a FAG!”

There’s nothing more enervating than seeing elements of the art world cavalierly tossing around ‘fag’ as a gesture of progressive urbanity. As if there wasn’t enough internalized negativity already, and I’m not saying there was a conspiracy, but it’s curious that the origins of queer theory – promulgated by a straight woman – ran parallel with the rise of the AIDS epidemic. It occurs to (granted, with the feeblest of anecdotal evidence) that as the gay community claws its way out of the underground into the territory of the ordinary, there’s a rumbling of disquiet under the surface. I’d read with some curiosity a few years ago about a planned meeting the UK to celebrate Polari – an underground, often hilarious semi-comprehensible argot invented between the wars by London street queens as a means of self-protection. The organizers expected maybe a handful of old-timers reminiscing and swapping stories, but instead faced a mob scene of young men eagerly wanting to learn the language.

Quentin Crisp, who knew a thing or two about police harassment, lived around the corner from me in a bed/sit on East 3rd Street in lower Manhattan, coincidentally down the street from the Hell’s Angels clubhouse. The bikers, somewhat surprisingly, watched out for him. I knew Quentin slightly – he wrote a monthly column for the magazine I was art directing – and I offered to pick up his manuscripts to save an elderly man the trials of navigating the subway. I had only ever seen him angry once – his carefully constructed persona as the stately queen crumbled when I had the impertinence to ask him about Polari . . . “I don’t remember any of THAT!!! ”

The Polari event indicates that beneath all of our recent legal victories lies a sense of dread that they will very likely disappear from nothing more than bureaucratic whim; or as J.G. Ballard commented “I suppose one of the things I took from my wartime experiences was that reality was a stage set . . . they could be dismantled overnight”.

Gay liberation is a universal movement an only and idiot would believe we live in a world full of rainbow and marriage vows. According to Matt Beard from All Out, the American Alliance Defending Freedom has been pushing anti-LGBT discrimination in that country’s courts for years. But ADF’s work goes beyond the U.S. With an annual budget of over $43 million and an army of more than 3,000 lawyers to promote hate-filled agendas backed by a network of over 200 partner groups to help spread their lies, the ADF has infiltrated countries throughout Africa, Central America, and South-East Asia to encourage the criminalizing and persecution of LGBT people. Anyone other than the gullible, the provincial, or the foolish is well aware that our security has always rested on shifting sands.

I lived in Brooklyn, New York for many years with my long-term partner (and future husband, now deceased) and the majority of our neighbours in that pre-hipsterized borough were Dominicans and Puerto Ricans. The men on the blocked ranked machismo based on the number children sired, the size of one’s car, and the size of one’s dog – but not necessarily in that order. As far as I know we were the only fucking maricóns living on that block; but because of both the age and size difference between us there was enough of an obvious binary division that no (overt) hostility was felt. The only problem came from a boy living in a housing project a block away. He had sussed us out and took to running up and down the street in front of our house yelling “faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot” with his much younger gang. After an intervention by the parish priest it came to light that our bête noire was the most avid cocksucker in downtown Brooklyn.

The traditional view that there’s nothing quite as threatening or as disturbingly thrilling as a good old-fashioned limp-wristed fairy has seen its day. I remember an incident before one of the last pride days I attended (when they used to be fun) when en route to the parade I boarded a streetcar that was completely empty except for me, the driver, a straight guy, and a cluster of Black church-ladies wearing a collection of the most architecturally-preposterous hats. As we travelled east the muscle started to pile on (I’m convinced the vehicle started to list to one side) – the church ladies began fanning themselves “Mmmm, mmm, mm, Lordy Lordy it’s suddenly HOT in here” and the straight guy shrank further and further into himself . . . what’s far more threatening for insecure would-be macho men is to see not their opposite but their-homo-doppelganger.

Accepting “Salò: 120 Nights of Sodom” as its personal saviour, “Work # 864: The Nature of God” (2013) looked to Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1975 adaptation enumerating of abuses of power, corruption, sadism, sexual perversity, and fascism as the first work in a series that explored the outer limits of masculine behaviour – a behaviour that is traditionally still expected of the boy before he can be considered fully a man. With titles like “Trailer Trash Terrorism”, “Behave Work Obey”, “Yes I Will Yes”, “Cell Block Bitch”, and “Shhh . . . (How to Conduct a Successful Interrogation – Lessons 1-20)” this is not a series of works intended for the faint of heart. What was done with this series was the antithesis of aestheticizing gleaming muscleboys or exploring the romanticism inherent in male bonding. “Work # 864: The Nature of God” allows that the rigour of discipline often morphs into the disciplinarian running amok. Notwithstanding the fact that this work has been described as ‘the water-boarding piece’ (which is an interpretation that I don’t dismiss), it is a multi-image cum-soaked force-feeding enacting either the predetermined choreography of some arcane sexual ritual or the resolution of cold-blooded revenge – that’s up for you to decide.

I had a fondness for punks, back in the day, they were really just Leathermen upside down – the latter for the most part pretended to beat each other up for fun, the former pretended to beat up the State for profit. The scenario presented in “Work # 918: Ash [and] Tray” (2014), from the same series as “The Nature of God” and dredged up from deep within my subconscious, was enacted several times over the course of one sultry evening at the Crash ‘n Burn toward the end of its line in the summer of 1977. By that point the crowd had become distressingly uptown at the now fondly mythologized punk rock club that brooded in the basement of its overlord the Centre for Experimental Art and Communication (CEAC). Technically acting as the eyes and ears for the head office upstairs, the perpetrator of heinous acts, illustrated here, was me (drunk) and the instigator (drunker) was one Paul Bartlett (now deceased), a poor little rich boy with impossible-to-resolve Daddy-issues and (stupidly) the perpetrator’s soon to be boyfriend. That the events of that sultry evening proved to be one of Mr. P.B.’s more rational moments was soon to become apparent. I don’t remember when the affair completely fell apart but I don’t think it lasted past Boxing Day. That memory is a weapon and a crutch led Jean Genet to claim that every man guards in himself his own particular wound; they say time heals, but to echo Francis Bacon, I really wonder about that.

“Work # 900: (Endeavouring . . . )“ (2014) is masculine behaviour of a different sort – a mash-up of “Hercules Beating the Centaur Nessus” by Giambologna and a slightly abridged line lifted from “The Pickwick Papers“ by Charles Dickens. While it appears to be a meeting of an apple and an orange, the two parts making the whole have a lot in common. Giambologna (1529-1608) was a Flemish sculptor (born Jean Boulogne) based in Italy and celebrated for a Mannerist style of intellectual sophistication and conscious artificiality favouring compositional tension and instability over balance and clarity. It seemed logical to partner a Mannerist sculpture from 1599 with a comic novel from 1836. As in many other Dickens novels the main literary value is the often exaggerated personality traits of his characters. The abridged quote is from a scene when the perennial spinster Rachael Wardle is driven into a state of near-feverish excitement over her botched elopement. The two fragments – sculpture and text – taken together assume a different form of feverish instability by implying a post-modern conflicted relationship willfully engineered by Nancy-boy Nessus to force hunky he-man Herc into delivering the most satisfactorily masochistic pounding. “Work # 900: (Endeavouring . . . )“ could never be construed as a self-portrait. The only thing masochistic about me is my continual insistence on maintaining an art practice; and as far as what goes on, as they say, behind closed doors, I’m far too snotty and opinionated to be anyone’s slave.

The work was scheduled to be exhibited as part of a self-described “queer” festival hosted by the local arts organization Artscape. However, the 21st century gatekeepers of the venue found this union of 16th century image with 19th century words simply beyond the pale, having breeched the organization’s (previously unknown) family-friendly guidelines . . . . It was after much arguing that this work was finally allowed to sully their walls. According to its website “Artscape is a not-for-profit urban development organization that makes space for creativity and transforms communities. Out work involves clustering creative people together in real estate projects that serve the needs of the arts and cultural community and advance multiple public policy objectives, private development deals, community and neighbourhood aspirations and philanthropic missions.”

How noble.

This couldn’t be more disingenuous when in fact it operates as the monopolistic purveyor of postage-stamped sized “live/workspaces” and studios priced at levels geared to the 1% throughout Toronto’s less affluent neighbourhoods, and by exploiting art as a means of gentrification, Artscape’s policies differ little from what Christian Viveros-Fauné described as a state of “suffocation from predetermination allowing for criticality to be sidelined in favour of easily digestible tropes, knock-offs of our greatest hits, and art that looks like art shoehorned into a prefabricated vision of what a culture should look like based on over-designed good taste.” Where all this family-friendly art crap came from is completely beyond me, but the art world has come a long way from the time when Clement Greenberg could write with a straight face that while the avant-garde remained attached to the ruling class by “an umbilical cord of gold” artists and others were ready to yank the chain.

The fact that it even needs to be stated plainly that “according to the rules of my tribe, being 62 puts me 12 years past my best before date” strategically planted atop a photo of a hot torso in “Work # 904: Twelve Years a Ghost” (2014) should be indictment enough in exposing ageism as the last acceptable prejudice. I guess I must have touched a nerve when the piece was exhibited (by a curator old enough to known better) far enough away and high on a wall in the furthest back corner of the gallery . . . Fine, I’m a sixty-three year old, half lame, three-quarters deaf, widowed gay man with a cardiac condition, full dentures, horrible eyesight and rapidly developing cataracts; I acknowledge those facts. But that doesn’t make me, as is said in Yiddish, ein alter kocker – and old shitter!

There’s nothing metaphorical in the least about the title of “Work # 943: Spider Web Sex Machine” (2015), it’s exactly what it says – two panels, one over the other; the top, a photograph of a spider’s web glinting in the sunlight and the bottom a no-nonsense advertising styled photograph of a sex machine. Discovering its existence of such a thing left me with the same sense of unease in not being entirely sure how this baroque contraption accommodates a human body as when I inspected close-up one of the pieces of fucking furniture custom-built for the future Edward VII. One assumes that Mr. Spider has gone out for beer and poppers because the web is as empty and inviting as the sex machine is peculiar and menacing.

On March 28, 2016 I received the following email with the subject heading “Question about Work # 943“ from a fellow with residences in both Montreal and Berlin: “Hey There, You show a sex maschine [sic] in the Artworkt Nr 943 [sic] called Spider web sex machine' out of 2015. Do you know where to buy that machine from? [sic] maybe you can give me a website or a hint in what direction to go for more information about the machine. Cant [sic] find any hint nowhere [sic] on the internet so far. Thanx a lot for your help. Greetz [sic] J___ B______ “. Two things came immediately to mind when I read this: 1) this is the first time I’ve ever been sent correspondence from a genuine pervert (cool!); and 2) both the deutchen grammaticus and the fractured syntax made my pants feel too tight. Of course I emailed him at once (!) with a couple of suggestions and that perhaps, if all else failed, he would be interested in purchasing the one-of-a-kind “Work # 943: Spider Web Sex Machine” (2015), which is a work of art . . .

He never wrote back. Oh well. I tried.

On an annual school trip to the Royal Ontario Museum before I had pubic hair, I recall lingering behind my other classmates when we got to the Greek and Roman galleries because of one sculpture in particular, a life-sized fragment of a man’s nether region with orange-sized testicles and globular glutes – feeling sweat and convinced I was the focus of knowing glances. I don’t think anyone noticed, but in my mind’s eye “Work # 956: David Was Horny” (2016) is how I imagined I looked staring up at David’s gigantic balls for the first time.

It made me wonder whether or not male desire has really changed all that much from 1500 to the present . . . April, 2016

Bruce Eves is an artist living in Toronto. In past lives he was the assistant programming director of the Centre for Experimental Art and Communication (CEAC), art director of the New York Native and Christopher Street magazine, and the co-founder and chief archivist of the International Gay History Archive (now part of the Rare Books and Manuscript division of the New York Public Library).

#2016

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