For the first year since before COVID, I’ve seen enough new movies to make a timely top-10 list, expanded to a baker’s to make room for an Irish/Finnish gem released in 2022 but not available in the U.S. until mid ’23. More exhaustive viewing would probably bolster the group, as the tail is brought up by two well-made but imperfect indies along with a documentary about the lead singer of my favorite band of all time. I’ll treasure the doc forever because of the subject, and the subtle art films may gain even more resonance.
The top seven, however, are clearly solid works of art. The peaks are by two well-established filmmakers and two newcomers. One of the veterans is among the most venerated in film history; the other is scarcely known outside of Japan, at least by non-film nerds. Hirokazu Kore-eda came to my attention belatedly with the comparatively recent Shoplifters, similarly themed and almost as impressive as its year’s Oscar winner, Parasite. Enthralled by it, I went backwards from there: all well-conceived but only a few no-doubt greats, capped for me by the mid-career triumph After the Storm, a more expansive take on the themes expressed in the impressive slice of life piece Still Walking. I need to see Monster again to make sure, but it’s definitely better than Shoplifters and possibly his best over Storm. For this year’s honors, it’s a toss-up between Monster and Flower Moon, as they both look like classics from the early returns. Future re-viewings will see how they age, compared to each other and also the two more casual entries that currently follow them in my competitive 2023 cinematic Mt. Rushmore.
Scorsese’s second 3 ½ hour epic in a row looks even better than The Irishman, both pictures backed by streaming services that don’t balk at the extensive running times as the traditional studios/distributions would because their targeted audiences can watch in installments. Flower Moon is a more important story, for one, extending Scorsese’s gangland themes to apply to historic U.S. treatment of Native Americans, implicating local/regional law enforcement, financial string-pullers big and small, the Klan during its most widespread era, and low-level male gold diggers combining to form a national mafia that controlled and in a tragically high number of cases killed the prosperous oil-rich Osage. Complementing the gravity and the treatment is acting which is stellar by even Scorsese standards: Lily Gladstone deserves every accolade she’s received, but Leonardo DiCaprio is also at his best, topping even Wolf of Wall Street. DeNiro is a marvel as well, even more subtle than he was in The Irishman. Scorsese also employs surprisingly effective Americana singers in straight acting roles, and they fit in even better than the last-act movie stars who show up for the courtroom scenes (he probably should have limited it to John Lithgow, as doubling-down with Brendan Fraser essentially creates an out-of-context tone almost as extreme as running into Ted Danson when you’re searching for Private Ryan).
I recently heard an interview with Peter Bogdanovich, recalling he and Orson Welles complaining that John Ford was no longer allowed to work in his senior years. Welles, making an analogy to symphony conductors which I can neither confirm nor deny, suggested that artists create their best work either in their twenties or in their eighties. The implication is the creative juices flow strongest when one’s trying to make a name or desperate to say everything needed in the time remaining, any lack of energy in the latter offset by the wisdom collected along the way.
Scorsese, now in his early eighties, fits that pattern perhaps better than any Hollywood great since John Huston’s final burst. And with all respect to the magnificent second half of Huston’s Joyce adaptation The Dead, Scorsese’s Flower Moon looks at this early return as the most complete American film by an octogenarian, matched or exceeded in world cinema only by such milestones as Ingmar Bergman’s Saraband and Agnes Varda’s Faces/Places (the latter my favorite movie by a director in his/her eighties, though admittedly co-directed by the significantly younger photo-artist JR). Augmenting Flower Moon is Scorsese’s co-direction of the terrific David Johansen doc Personality Crisis, named after the side one/cut one classic on the New York Dolls debut that forever cemented the legacy of the singer and group from its opening guitar that sets up a series of Yeahs and Nos as emblematic of rock ‘n’ roll as any lyrics the massive genre has produced.
Kore-eda and Oppenheimer’s Christopher Nolan are maturing with age as well. It’s no coincidence that Nolan’s best two films feature remarkable female performances that conflict with his male-centered milieu even as they add multi-contextual meaning. Florence Pugh in Oppenheimer, remarkably, is as impressive as Marion Cotillard in Inception, an extremely high bar. As for Kore-eda, he’s always had the ideas, the treatment, and an almost unparalleled storytelling compassion. What sets Monster apart is its richness, helped greatly by Ryuichi Sakamoto’s score but also enhanced by a surer hand than Kore-eda, despite his long-established major talents, had ever displayed.
As for the newcomers, neither Celine Song nor Cord Jefferson is still in their twenties, the other side of Welles’s theory for maximum cinematic greatness. But both bring a freshness to their debuts that if by design lacks the audacity of Citizen Kane, certainly approaches the assuredness of Orson’s follow-up Magnificent Ambersons (still my favorite movie by a director in his/her twenties). Song seems the most naturally cinematic of the two, and even though Past Lives apparently has aspects of autobiography, the fact that she’s already an accomplished playwright would indicate she’s certainly capable of telling other stories than her own. Jefferson is also immensely promising, as American Fiction despite direct presentation seems to have few comps in its unique delivery of compelling context augmented by a tone both complex and engaging.
I shouldn’t wrap up without calling attention to the cinematic elephant of the year. Unlike cineaste favorite May December, the reason Barbie missed the list wasn’t because I didn’t care for it. I was on board from the marvelous 2001 homage at the outset, and the ending line is memorable and sharp. And I love its impact, the cinematic correlative to Taylor Swift, and as poppy as my Swift juke box picks Shake It Off and You Belong with Me. Plus, I’m a huge fan of director Greta Gerwig, really the only reason I went to see the film on opening week. If her Little Women is more accomplished than it is necessary, for me not quite supplanting the similarly modernized Winona Ryder version from a generation earlier, her earlier Lady Bird stands as the supreme coming of age film of an era that had a lot of notable offerings in that category. And Gerwig’s prior collaborations with Barbie co-writer Noah Baumbach, Mistress America and Frances Ha, are career peaks for both of them, as her wit and vivacity offset his darker tendencies without obscuring them entirely. The skill set, personal flair, and emotional spectrum Gerwig possesses helped Barbie be a much better movie than I could imagine it being by anyone else, additionally with a higher degree of difficulty than earlier Gerwig/Baumbach triumphs that feature related feminist themes in a delivery more suited to my particular wheelhouse. In short, liked Barbie, loved it in spots, and am definitely glad it’s out there. And because of my recent viewing of the excellent French film The Taste of Things and its extraordinary performance from Chabrol veteran Benoit Magimel, it’s Ken rather than Barbie who got bumped from my acting nominee list.
Best picture:
Killers of the Flower Moon (directed by Martin Scorsese)
Monster (Hirokazu Kore-eda)
Past Lives (Celine Song)
American Fiction (Cord Jefferson)
My Sailor My Love (Klaus Haro)
Oppenheimer (Christopher Nolan)
Orlando, My Political Biography (Paul B. Preciado)
The Taste of Things (Tran Anh Hung)
Personality Crisis: One Night Only (David Tedeschi & Martin Scorsese)
Fremont (Babak Jalali)
Showing Up (Kelly Reichardt)
Best actress:
Lily Gladstone, Killers of the Flower Moon
Greta Lee, Past Lives
Brid Brennan, My Sailor My Love
Sandra Huller, Anatomy of a Fall
Margot Robbie, Barbie
Best actor:
Leonardo DeCaprio, Killers of the Flower Moon
Cillian Murphy, Oppenheimer
Jeffrey Wright, American Fiction
Paul Giamatti, The Holdovers
Benoit Magimel, The Taste of Things
Best supporting actress:
Florence Pugh, Oppenheimer
Da’Vine Joy Randolph, The Holdovers
Sherry Cola, Shortcomings
Sakura Ando, Monster
Hong Chau, Showing Up
Best supporting actor:
Robert DeNiro, Killers of the Flower Moon
Robert Downey, Jr., Oppenheimer
Sterling K. Brown, American Fiction
Benny Safdie, Oppenheimer
Matt Damon, Oppenheimer
If I had to pick the top five performances regardless of gender or screen time, the honorees would be Gladstone, Pugh, DiCaprio, Murphy, and Lee, in that order. So two of my top three were not even nominated, despite being in high-profile pictures, one among the most famous and highly regarded actors of his generation (hint: he’s the king of the world!), the other an extraordinary young talent who has made a wide variety of movies– from obscure indies to this year’s presumptive Oscar sweeper– immeasurably better (that’s Florence Pugh, and if you don’t already know her name you will soon). In the wake of the Oscar nominations, the only media personality I noticed singling her omission as a major snub was Charles Barkley, championing Pugh in a discussion where everyone else just wanted to talk about Barbie’s higher-profile overlooks. It was my favorite Barkley analysis since he was an early champion of then-rookie Manu Ginobili, to me as obvious and spot-on a judgment as his enthusiasm for Pugh’s underrated brilliance.
Update: I’ve revisited virtually all of the top picks on my list and have some minor changes to report. Unlike The Irishman, which actually improved on re-viewing, Killers of the Flower Moon drags more the second time around (though DiCaprio and especially Lily Gladstone are even more impressive). Monster seems more like good Kore-eda than great, his smoothest yet but not at the level of After the Storm or its related antecedent Still Walking. I suspected the similarly ambitious but more likable Past Lives and American Fiction might improve, which proved especially so for the former. So give Past Lives the gold, with Flower Moon and American Fiction completing the medal stand in that order, though a close call. The rest of the list stays about the same, except Monster drops to seventh below My Sailor, Oppenheimer (which held up really well for an epic), and Orlando.
The acting categories remain roughly the same. I’ll move up Matt Damon (every bit as impressive as co-stars Downey or Murphy, albeit with a lesser degree of difficulty) and drop De Niro a bit. I’ll also drop Benny Safdie entirely to make room for Past Lives’ Teo Yoo. Here’s the new supporting actor list:
- Robert Downey, Jr., Oppenheimer
- Sterling K. Brown, American Fiction
- Matt Damon, Oppenheimer
- Teo Yoo, Past Lives
- Robert DeNiro, Killers of the Flower Moon