2021 has been a fascinating year, cinematically speaking. The pandemic raged on, vaccines became available, cinemas re-opened... it has been a very different year from 2020 and also a very similar year. Although I returned to cinemas in March, many of my favorite films were available via streaming and they were viewed at home, or in some hybrid release that included both theaters and at-home options. Big studio blockbusters returned after mostly taking 2020 off, and that was a pleasure as I like to think of myself as an equal opportunity film lover. I enjoy all sorts of cinema, from the big, splashy releases to the smaller art films and everything in between. (Although there's not much of an in-between anymore, at least theatrically.)
There were certainly some interesting trends this year, at least in regards to what I ended up truly loving. As you'll see below, 2021 was the year of the movie musical for me. I adore musicals more than almost any other genre, but we so rarely get legitimately great live action cinematic movie musicals and this year was remarkable in that regard. Lin-Manuel Miranda was indeed a big part of that. Biased or not, I would argue that he was the entertainer of the year as far as cinema is concerned. Netflix and other streaming services also continue to come to play by producing and/or acquiring interesting films that would've likely had strong theatrical releases as recently as 10 years ago but don't have much of a place in multiplexes as the industry continues to shift. Also, on a more dour note, a few of my favorites ended up letting my down in different ways this year... and that's okay! Not every film every filmmaker makes can be great. Many of my favorite filmmakers or films I was looking forward to didn't vibe with me or I plan to revisit later... and that's okay!
That all being said, I have absolutely loved what 2021 has had to offer. I have not seen everything, far from it. I'm not a professional critic and thus I don't get access to early screenings or sent screeners, and although living in New York has its boons in terms of what films get released here, I still wasn't able to see everything I wanted to. I had a few more films I had hoped to catch this past week, but for various reasons that wasn't able to happen. I could've waited a few more weeks to try and catch up on those that I missed, but I find it more deliberate and interesting to cut this off at the end of the year. This allows my list to serve as a time capsule of my favorite 2021 films that I was able to see throughout the calendar year.
A few notes: Just because a film does not appear doesn't mean I didn't like it. 2021 had many good if not great films, and there simply isn't enough time or room to mention all of them. Some of my friends even made a top 50! For my own purposes I'll be including 5 honorable mentions and then a top 15, all of which are truly enjoyable in their own way. I absolutely love these films! Once I hit publish on this article, it really won't matter what order I put them in. It's mostly arbitrary. When I'm re-watching these films, all that will matter is my love of them and the joy or emotion or intellectual engagement they bring me. This list is meant to be a celebration!
There are also two unique films I'd like to mention that I didn't include in contention for my list for varying reasons (much like Hamilton or American Utopia last year.) The first is the pro-shot/documentary adaptation of Derek DelGaudio's In and Of Itself, directed by Frank Oz. I was lucky enough to see this astounding show a few times off Broadway, and although this is a particularly unique and brilliant film version of a stage show, it's still just that. Regardless, it's available on Hulu and may still be the best thing I saw all year. The second is Bo Burnham's Inside, a brilliant film/comedy special hybrid that is one of the most impressive, painfully honest, and hilarious works of art to be released that is directly about and influenced by the lockdown/quarantine we all went through. It's available on Netflix and also gets my highest recommendation.
I'd also like to mention Minari and Judas and the Black Messiah, both of which I loved, but decided ultimately not to include on this list because they were nominated for various Awards in last year's eligibility period due to the pandemic.
As for my least favorite films of the year? I don't intend to celebrate the negative, but I do think it's an interesting exercise to get a full view of my overall taste, so here goes: 5. Mortal Kombat; 4. Venom: Let There Be Carnage; 3. Spiral: From the Book of Saw; 2. Halloween Kills; 1. Old
Finally, here are a few films that I had hoped to see this year but didn't get to: Drive My Car, Parallel Mothers, The Tragedy of Macbeth, Cyrano, Red Rocket, Flee, and The Worst Person in the World. I also missed King Richard, The Last Duel, Mass, and plenty of others I may very well end up loving. I hope to see them soon, but for the purposes of this article/list, I am keeping it frozen. Down the line I'm sure when prompted on social media or letterboxd I may end up changing things, but I love the notion of this serving as a representation of my calendar year in film.
Honorable Mentions (Alphabetical): Belfast (Dir: Kenneth Branagh), Cruella (Dir: Craig Gillespie), The Matrix Resurrections (Dir: Lana Wachowski), The Mitchells vs. The Machines (Dir: Michael Rianda), Spider-Man: No Way Home (Dir: Jon Watts)
My Top 15 Films of 2021
15. Luca (Dir: Enrico Casarosa)
Pixar's newest is a deceptively simple tale of friendship, coming of age, misunderstood identity, and ultimately acceptance - and that may be its strongest asset as it allows the viewer to code what they need to to these characters. A queer reading, for example, is absolutely valid. The animation and voice acting is gorgeous, and Dan Romer's score is one of the finest of the year.
14. Shiva Baby (Dir: Emma Seligman)
The most terrifying, uncomfortable film of the year that isn't horror. I wanted to throw up watching this movie, and clocking in at a lean 77 minutes it is a nearly perfect distillation of awkward, savage, biting dark humor and Jewish culture. So many moments in this film felt like experiences I have had as a (mostly) secular Jewish man, and it is that very specificity that makes it special. Rachel Sennott gives one of the best performances of the year.
13. Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar (Dir: Josh Greenbaum)
You're either going to be on this film's wavelength or you aren't. It is silly, absurd, delightfully dumb, and so singular in its approach, and I was here for every second of it. No film this year made me laugh as hard or as consistently; this is a new comedy classic. Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo (who also co-wrote the screenplay) are fantastic, but the film's biggest revelation is Jamie Dornan, who is screamingly funny. What a great year for him (he's also wonderful in Belfast.)
12. Zola (Dir: Janicza Bravo)
Based on a viral twitter thread of debatable veracity, Zola is a piece of bravura filmmaking from Janicza Bravo. She infuses the film with such fresh energy and propulsive style, and coupled with the subject matter this feels like a movie truly of this time... for better or worse? The film is grimy and uncomfortable, yes, but I couldn't look away. It is wildly captivating, frequently hilarious, and held together by Taylour Paige, who kills with simple facial expressions. Buckle up and prepare a strong stomach.
11. Petite Maman (Dir: Celine Sciamma) (In French with English Subtitles)
The shortest film on this list (yes, at 72 minutes it is even more brief than Shiva Baby,) Petite Maman is a lovely, magical, lyrical film about coping with grief, intergenerational relationships, and childhood growth. Sciamma's tender hand and the wonderful performances from twins Josephine and Gabrielle Sanz lend significant weight to this seemingly slight tale, yet underneath it is more profound than many films twice its length.
10. The French Dispatch (Dir: Wes Anderson)
If you had told me after I saw The French Dispatch that it would "only" end up at number 10 on my list I'm not sure I would have believed you, but that's the kind of year this has been for me. At this point it is easy to turn a snide eye towards Anderson's distinctive, highly curated style, but it is that very approach that makes him one of the most consistently interesting filmmakers for me. This may very well be his most meticulously designed and theatrical work, a triptych of stories about writing for a news magazine. It is a film of obsession and storytelling, mixed mediums and cinematic formats, with a heavy undercurrent of sadness. The entire ensemble is terrific, although Jeffrey Wright (pictured above) is the MVP.
9. Coda (Dir: Sian Heder)
This film won the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year and it's easy to see why. A "crowd pleaser" in the most traditional sense, watching this film is like taking a warm bath in emotions. It is so deeply felt, human, and genuine. Its portrayal of a mostly deaf family and their one hearing child who wants to pursue music (Coda stands for "child of deaf adults",) allows for a fascinating family dynamic that still feels relatable. Emilia Jones is miraculous, lending the film its soul and musical voice, and Tony Kotsur is exceptional. There is so much more to communication and acting than just words. I cried heartily.
8. Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (Dir: Destin Daniel Cretton)
In the wake of Avengers: Endgame, much of the MCU needed to be reset and new characters needed to be introduced. Enter Shang-Chi. Inspired by classic Wuxia films and the best of marital arts cinema, this film is a blessedly standalone adventure that crafts one of the best villains in the entirety of the MCU (thanks to the iconic Tony Leung,) a thrilling new hero (that Simu Liu can do his own fighting and stuns makes the hand to hand combat and action scenes here absolutely sing,) lovely visuals and funny side characters. The use of Asian cultural elements are a joy. This is one of my favorite MCU movies and a terrific piece of action entertainment, filled with gorgeous visuals, a bombastic climax that actually works in context, and some of the best shot and choreographed action of the year. Plus both the soundtrack and Joel P. West's score are dope.
7. Encanto (Dir: Jared Bush & Byron Howard)
The first time the work of Lin-Manuel will appear on this list, Encanto is one of the richest, most rewarding Disney animated musicals... ever? Yes, the animation is gorgeous, a new reference point for what Disney is capable of. Lin-Manuel's songs are catchy and emotional and filled with his distinct style. (The phrase "we need to talk about Bruno" has been playing over and over in my head for over a month now.) Beyond the surface, this film is operating on a special level, working as a nearly one-location family musical drama. There is no villain. The stakes are relatively minimal. This allows the film to dive deeper into the familial dynamics and mindsets of the characters. The themes of never feeling good enough, of one's family setting almost impossible expectations, of crushing external pressure and being afraid you can't deliver the "magic" when it really counts are potently relatable. The emotional texture at play here is a cut above.
6. Dune (Dir: Denis Villeneuve)
Keeping in mind that my familiarity and appreciation of Dune in any iteration was minimal at best (though I have since acquired many of the novels and intend to read them later this year,) I was blown away by this overwhelming experience that reminded me of what large format cinema can be like when it excels. This movie creeped up on me as it slowly unfolded and then fully enveloped me. It is as immersive and accomplished of a sci-fi epic as we have seen in a long time. Every aspect of this film is masterful - the aesthetic, the ensemble cast, Hans Zimmer's score, the pace, the storytelling. I was left breathless and cannot wait for Part 2. BAGPIPES!
5. Pig (Dir: Michael Sarnoski)
It would be easy to read the premise of Pig and look at the type of shlock Nicolas Cage has (mostly) been appearing in over the last few years and assume that this would be a poor man's John Wick ripoff. How wrong that assumption would be. Pig is an elegiac, deeply compassionate exploration of grief and loss and how we find new ways to cope. It excels as a sometimes violent crime drama, though not in the way one might expect. It has potent ideas about commercialism (particularly as it applies to the artisanal food scene) and how as an artist one must ultimately stay true to what makes them happy, not what they think "audiences" want to see/eat. This is a film about finding meaning and comfort in life, even as we might decide to take ourselves farther and father away from the crowd. Nicolas Cage is wonderfully subdued, filled with a quiet intensity, pain and rage. It is one of his finest performances ever; he is hugely affecting. Put away any misgivings about the concept and the title and let Pig take you on this empathetic and poetic character journey.
4. West Side Story (Dir: Steven Spielberg)
How do you remake/re-adapt one of the great film/stage musicals of all time? Enter Steven Spielberg and Tony Kushner. As I said in my original review, "this movie moves, it sings, it leaves you breathless. There is a fluidity to the motion and movement and timing of this film that is the work of a true master." Watching the formal, classic technique on display in this film is a masterclass for anyone who wants to see how it's done. The lighting, the staging, the choreography, the camera placement and movement is all stunning. But this West Side Story goes far beyond just impressive formalism. There is a depth of emotional texture on display, enhanced by the technique and Kushner's smart adaptation, that makes this film so palpable. At the center we have an incredible cast of young performers who deliver extraordinary work: Rachel Zegler, Ariana DeBose, Mike Faist, and David Alvarez sing and dance with aplomb, but it is their fresh, nuanced take on these classic roles that soars. As for Rita Moreno? Her rendition of "Somewhere" in the final act is devastating, serving as the emotional centerpiece of a film that's full of them.
3. The Power of the Dog (Dir: Jane Campion)
It has been well over a decade since Campion made a film (the wonderful Bright Star released in 2009) and it was absolutely worth the wait. She is a master, continuously exploring new tones and genres, yet still finding the same depth of humanity in each of them. The Power of the Dog is not an easy watch. Many of the films that made my list this year are joyous or escapist in their own way. Not this film. It is haunting and evocative. It finds a spot under your skin and stays there long after the brilliant final frame has come to pass. It is a story of repression, masculinity, and queer identity set amongst a ranch in 1920s Montana. It is a Western in style, the sweeping vistas and Jonny Greenwood's remarkable score lending an authentic tone that on the surface would let it sit comfortably within the genre. In reality, though, this is a chamber drama, fueled by family dynamics and unique bonds that can form over pain and shared experiences. Benedict Cumberbatch continues to grow as an actor, and this is some of his finest work. He's all rage and bravado, showing a deeply cantankerous exterior that is hiding his pain underneath. The heart of the film, though, belongs to Kodi Smit-McPhee and Kirsten Dunst, who play mother and son and give two of my favorite performances of the year. Prepare for a slow burn that is one of the most challenging and rewarding films of the year. I haven't stopped thinking about it.
2. In the Heights (Dir: Jon M. Chu)
What is there for me to say about In the Heights that I haven't already said? For the majority of the year this was my surefire Number 1. I saw it 4 times in cinemas, basking in the joy and vibrancy and magic each and every time. Sure, I'm a little biased. I was a huge fan of the stage musical, seeing it over a dozen times when it was on Broadway. But as we well know, film adaptations of stage musicals, especially in recent history, are often flat and fail to capture any of what worked on stage. In the Heights, however? I would argue that this improves on the source material, rendering one of the best film musicals of our time. It is ebullient and joyous, capturing the feel of a neighborhood with deep love and affection. Lin-Manuel's songs are phenomenal, performed beautifully by this incredible cast, choreographed with such verve by Christopher Scott, shot so lovingly and cleanly by Alice Brooks. There are moments of magical realism that took my breath away. There are indelible, large scale musical numbers (96,000 for example) that remind me of the golden age of Hollywood musicals in the 1940s. There is so much emotion and life pulsing through the film. I said before this film released that it was one of my most anticipated movies ever. So often we are disappointed when we get that excited for things. Not this time. In the Heights is a masterpiece. How is it not my Number 1? Well...
1. tick... tick... Boom! (Dir: Lin-Manuel Miranda)
Remember when I said that musicals and Lin-Manuel Miranda ruled the year for me? Well, here we are. I've had my eye on this film for a while, knowing some people involved in the making of it as well as being aware of the source material. I've listened to the Off Broadway album a handful of times over the years and saw a production of it at City Center Encores back in 2014 (starring, naturally Lin-Manuel himself.) But I never would've described myself as an active fan of the material, simply an admirer who recognized its important place in the life of Jonathan Larson. As for Jonathan Larson? Of course I love Rent, having seen it countless times on stage, although certain elements of it play differently to me now that I'm older and there's no denying that it's an unfinished work. That being said, it's clear that Larson was a generational talent, a lighting in a bottle musical theater prophet who had so much to say and never got enough time to say it in. On stage, tick... tick... Boom! began as a rock soliloquy and then morphed into a 3 person off Broadway musical. As a film, Lin-Manuel and screenwriter Steven Levenson have adapted this into a bio-musical about Larson's life, focusing on one particular period of time, filling in the characters and the edges so that you get a full portrait of who he was and what his life was like. It's no secret that I produce theater. More so than film or anything else, live theater is my one true love. So yes, it's easy to argue that I'm in the pocket for this movie. That pocket is elated, though. This is one of the great movies about musical theater, about the creative process, about struggling as an artist, about hurdling towards a deadline and never feeling like you're going to be enough or create enough or meet that deadline. It took an artist like Lin-Manuel, who likely knows this experience better than anyone, to fully pull all of this out of the material in a way that is so affecting and powerful. Lin directs the film like a far more experienced filmmaker, crafting musical numbers that are magical ("Sunday" and "Therapy" in particular are sheer movie magic and this score has never sounded better) but also reaching into the minds of these characters to produce an authenticity of feeling that rang deep within me. Lin's cast is more than up to the task, with stellar work from Robin De Jesus, Alexandra Shipp, Josh Henry, Vanessa Hudgens, and an eerily spot-on performance as Sondheim by Bradley Whitford. Yet this is the Andrew Garfield show, and what a show it is. From the second the film begins with Andrew beautifully singing "30/90" until the final frame, he becomes Jonathan Larson. This is one of the most accomplished, lived in, fully felt performances I have seen. Garfield is stunning, a bit manic, with plenty of theater kid energy, and an immense pool of pathos. The symbiosis between the lead performance and the intent and impact of the film is evident. This is Lin-Manuel's film, but this is Garfield's show, and he takes tick... tick... Boom! into the stratosphere. I am in love with this movie. It means everything to me.
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