The annual exercise of creating a “Best Movies” list is largely arbitrary and reductive. By their very nature, a favorites list is wholly dependent on subjective tastes, its scope limited by the number of films watched. In simplest terms, a favorites list is usually useless.
Despite its overwhelming frivolity, a listicle does help reveal certain trends. By forcing me to consider films based on quality, and across genres, the final list tends to share similar traits. In my recap last year, I was cautiously optimistic that the success of franchise blockbusters would quell financial fears for studios, thereby opening the door for more audacious original mid-budget movies. In 2016, I can’t say I've noticed any difference in the frequency or quantity of big-budget blockbusters. But I did notice smaller eccentric titles finding life in newer distribution channels -- Netflix originals, Amazon exclusives, increased foreign imports, and especially, earlier digital releases/rentals through Apple, Vudu, etc. Given more avenues to consume content, I gravitated towards the strange and varied -- micro-budget horror flicks, odd experimentations, biting documentaries, fascinating dramas -- and explored more small, independent, and foreign films than any year in the recent past.
Upon finalizing my favorites, I realized that for the first time in forever, I had a list that was composed entirely of original mid-budget-ish films. No superheroes. No sequels. No franchises. These were movies with pointed, standalone stories whose genres often shifted between drama, horror, mystery, even romance without hidden agendas of “world building” or sequel teasing. These were fascinating, curious, unique voices waiting to find a bigger audience. I’m grateful I not only watched these movies, but was able to find them more quickly and easily than in years past.
PS - In light of full disclosure, I have not had a chance to see the following movies that have garnered lots of buzz: Manchester by the Sea (I’m sure it’s perfectly good but probably forgettable); La La Land (Having a weak spot for musicals, I could see loving this a lot); Fences (I do love me some Denzel); Silence (Scorsese’s last few have been oddly underwhelming); and Arrival (Sci-fi is very hit-and-miss with me so I’m cautiously optimistic).
Despite its overwhelming frivolity, a listicle does help reveal certain trends. By forcing me to consider films based on quality, and across genres, the final list tends to share similar traits. In my recap last year, I was cautiously optimistic that the success of franchise blockbusters would quell financial fears for studios, thereby opening the door for more audacious original mid-budget movies. In 2016, I can’t say I've noticed any difference in the frequency or quantity of big-budget blockbusters. But I did notice smaller eccentric titles finding life in newer distribution channels -- Netflix originals, Amazon exclusives, increased foreign imports, and especially, earlier digital releases/rentals through Apple, Vudu, etc. Given more avenues to consume content, I gravitated towards the strange and varied -- micro-budget horror flicks, odd experimentations, biting documentaries, fascinating dramas -- and explored more small, independent, and foreign films than any year in the recent past.
Upon finalizing my favorites, I realized that for the first time in forever, I had a list that was composed entirely of original mid-budget-ish films. No superheroes. No sequels. No franchises. These were movies with pointed, standalone stories whose genres often shifted between drama, horror, mystery, even romance without hidden agendas of “world building” or sequel teasing. These were fascinating, curious, unique voices waiting to find a bigger audience. I’m grateful I not only watched these movies, but was able to find them more quickly and easily than in years past.
PS - In light of full disclosure, I have not had a chance to see the following movies that have garnered lots of buzz: Manchester by the Sea (I’m sure it’s perfectly good but probably forgettable); La La Land (Having a weak spot for musicals, I could see loving this a lot); Fences (I do love me some Denzel); Silence (Scorsese’s last few have been oddly underwhelming); and Arrival (Sci-fi is very hit-and-miss with me so I’m cautiously optimistic).
Honorable Mention:
Swiss Army Man
First premiering at Sundance under the guise of “farting corpse movie,” Swiss Army Man is singularly odd and unpredictably strange. With a combustible blend of macabre drama and sophomoric fantasy, Paul Dano and Daniel “Harry Potter” Radcliffe elevate this strangely disarming flick to something remarkably unique. I can safely say there’s no other movie from 2016 like Swiss Army Man. And that is not a bad thing.
Neon Demon
Neon Demon
Director Nicholas Winding Refn’s (Drive, Bronson) latest exercise in lurid hypnotism is both deceivingly arresting and pretentiously trashy. And I mean that in the best possible way. The acting is intriguing yet vapid; its tone is haunting but silly. It drags its feet for 80% of its runtime, then ends right as the most interesting questions arise. It’s strange. Don’t overthink it.
10 Cloverfield Lane
10 Cloverfield Lane
Before Paramount went and slapped the “Cloverfield” name literally into its title, 10 Cloverfield Lane was a small, highly-touted script floating around Hollywood titled The Cellar. Part of me wishes they had kept it as a standalone story rather than tangentially shoehorning it into a questionably vague Cloverfield universe. But that’s besides the point; despite its title, this movie more than stands on its own two feet. Exhilarating, tense, unsettling, surprising, and unnervingly claustrophobic, 10 Cloverfield Lane hits all the right notes and makes me hopeful for a future for unique voices with a good story and commercial appeal.
Favorite movies of 2016:
#5 The Witch
Made from a budget of $3 million and essentially contained in one location, The Witch is a small story that punches far above its weight. This may be the most engrossing movie of 2016 -- its every set, light, costume, and (who could forget?) line of prose simply transports you to 17th century New England, making you feel like every blade of grass and every wrinkle of cloth were there IRL. Despite its deceptively simple setup and short runtime, first-time writer/director Robert Eggers milks each moment for both intended and unpredictable horror. Peace thee! What dost thou wait for?
#4 The Eyes of my Mother
There’s something engrossing about a black and white film, as if our eyes are preternaturally conditioned to peer just a bit closer. The Eyes of my Mother is the film that both rewards and punishes for leering. This is Hitchcock by way of Soderbergh, a tonally perfect exercise in tension, both excellently restrained and terrifying efficient. Ink-black shadows give way to seering daylight, as if the movie is constantly at war with its own nature. Grotesque but captivating, The Eyes of my Mother doesn’t jolt or snap or shock. It lingers.
#3 The Autopsy of Jane Doe
Anyone who knows me knows I’m a big fan of horror movies (is this really the third horror movie on my list??). But I won’t apologize for it. Horror is eternally flexible and scalable, its appeal moldable to whatever social or economic or personal fears it likes. The genre’s very existence is founded on the meritocracy of an immediate response: You know it’s working if the audience screams. This is why, on a base level, The Autopsy of Jane Doe is one of my favorite films of 2016: I screamed. I never scream. But this movie is built so magnificently, its pieces working so effortlessly, its craft so precise, that I fell head over heels for it. It’s truly a testament to the acting, script, lighting, and cinematography working in unison to elicit fear, that unknowable devil, where it shouldn’t exist.
#2 The Lobster
Probably the oddest nut to crack on this list, The Lobster is at once unknowable yet universal. Working with a somewhat preposterous sci-fi-ish premise -- single people must couple with a partner, lest they get turned into an animal for eternity -- The Lobster escapes ridicule to reach stretches of unexpected poignancy and longing romance. It’s Wes Anderson by way of Charlie Kaufman, Eternal Sunshine as written by Kafka. I know. It’s strange. But it’s really wonderful, able to make the world seem both more broken and more beautiful than it actually is.
#1 The Handmaiden
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect with The Handmaiden, the latest from director Park Chan Wook (Oldboy, Thirst, Stoker), except that it would be beautifully shot, well acted, and meticulously cut. Wook never disappoints on the technical front, even when his films have less in substance than in form. But with The Handmaiden, I found myself unprepared for the deftness of the narrative, blown away by the luridness of its images. It’s operatic where I expected reserve, electric where it should be mundane, effortless when it should be tiresome. It’s a beautifully woven canvas -- twisty, pulpy, sensual, euphoric, haunting -- that builds to an inevitable and beautiful climax. It’s the greatest Tarantino film that Tarantino will never have the desire or the ability to make.
