Once again, it is time for me to unveil my annual list of my top 15 favorite films of the year (well, past time really, as I normally publish this list at least a week earlier than I am doing this year), and what a year it was. 2023 was my first full year as a PhD student in Film Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where I got to have many great theater-going experiences in the UW Cinematheque, both for class screenings and weekend programming, as well as in the local multiplexes (including Flix Brewhouse in Madison, where I also worked for three months over the summer). In addition, I got to have a really special experience this year at the 10th annual Chicago Critics Film Festival, where I actually saw quite a few films that made my top 15 of the year, and for the first time, I got to go to the Telluride Film Festival in Colorado with a group from my UW grad program, where I saw one of the strongest lineups I have ever seen at any film festival. In fact, with two exceptions, all of the films in my top 15 of this year were films I saw on the big screen, and they all deserve to be seen that way if at all possible.
Once again, just like the last two years, not only are all of the films on this list more than worthy of strong recommendations, all of them are were awarded 4.5/5 or 5/5 by me on Letterboxd (shameless plug), and they collectively represent an incredible range and diversity of voices telling entertaining, powerful, and important stories that should be sought out by everyone reading this post. And, in particular, 2023 has been an exceptional year for female filmmakers, with 8 films in my top 15 being directed (or, in one case, co-directed) by women. And while there are several titles listed below that many have probably have never even heard of, I strongly believe that they are all worthy of viewing and serious engagement even if they ultimately do not work for everyone like they did for me.
Now, as always, before I get into my top 15, here is a list of 15 films from 2023 that I have not seen but definitely want to as soon as possible:
About Dry Grasses
All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt
The Boy and the Heron
Fallen Leaves
Ferrari
Flora and Son
Godland
Godzilla Minus One
Kokomo City
Monster
Of an Age
Reality
Suzume
The Teacher's Lounge
A Thousand and One
Also, I have one Special Mention I want to give before my top 15, that being my friend Linh Tran's debut feature Waiting for the Light to Change. I had the honor to see it twice this year on the big screen, both at the Chicago Critics Film Festival in May as well as at the UW Cinematheque in October. It is a remarkable film that I got to write about here in advance of its Cinematheque screening, but I opted to not include it in my top 15 list due to the director being a friend and me being naturally biased because of that. I would still highly recommend that everyone reading this watch it though, which you can do on VOD for $3.99 (I have also not included Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour on this list, despite it being one of the most joyous experiences I had in a theater this past year, but...well, you can rent that for $19.89 if you so wish).
And as I say every year now, these 15 films that I am about to list (and the order in which I list them) may not be what some would consider the BEST films of 2023; but rather, they are my personal FAVORITE films that, for one reason or another, impacted me as a film reviewer and filmmaker and that, in my opinion, speak in some way to the broader world we all live in. This year specifically, many people would say that the films I ranked #4-6 are objectively better than the films I ranked #1-3, but the latter films I responded to more on a deeper personal level, and you know, oftentimes with me the heart wins out over the head. So, without further ado, here are my top 15 favorite films of 2023 from 15 to 1:
#15. Barbie -- Unquestionably the cinematic commercial success story of the year (along with Oppenheimer, which will be mentioned later on this list), watching this with a sold-out audience at the Marcus Point Cinema in Madison surrounded by my mostly female friends all dressed in pink and laughing consistently throughout was a filmgoing experience from this year that will surely stick with me for a long time. Just like she did with my favorite film of 2019 (Little Women), Greta Gerwig was able to take a piece of feminine Americana that has been embedded in popular culture for generations and make it new, fresh, and relevant for female (and male) audiences of all ages and backgrounds. Loaded with countless Easter eggs and references that illustrate Gerwig's profound grasp on the language of cinema and film history (I laughed out loud and nearly applauded an homage to Jacque Tati's Playtime that I can basically guarantee no one else in my audience noticed), Barbie is also one of the great modern existentialist films, one that is much deeper and more subversive than many of the film's detractors have cared to realize. As I previously wrote on Letterboxd upon my second viewing of Barbie, the ending of the film is what got me the most, as it reveals the true message of the story, which is that an imperfect reality is better and ultimately more fulfilling than a perfect fantasy. A world with struggles, imperfections, and stress is simply more preferable to a valid, shallow, meaningless fantasyland because it is real. And Gerwig (being Gerwig) brings it all home with a deeply moving home video montage right before the final scene that hit me just like the endings of both Little Women and Lady Bird do. And on top of all that, the stellar ensemble cast here all give outstanding comedic performances, with Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, Kate McKinnon, and America Ferrera all doing some of the best work of their respective careers (and let's not forget Michael Cera as Allan, who I found to be easily the most relatable character in this entire film). So while I understand that certain viewers will not care to look beneath the surface of this film and write it off as being various things that it is most certainly not, I do applaud the countless viewers who have looked past the surface and embraced this for being a big studio tentpole comedy film with ideas and heart and soul and genuine emotion that also happens to be really pink and funny and sporting an amazing soundtrack (both the Billie Eilish and Dua Lipa songs from this film are among my favorite songs of the year). So yes, Greta Gerwig knocks it out of the park once again, and Barbie absolutely earns its spot on my top 15 of 2023 (currently streaming on MAX and also available to rent for $5.99).
#14. Theater Camp -- Speaking of great female-led comedies from the summer of 2023, here is a film that is certainly not as thematically deep as Barbie, but is a film that had me laughing hard and loud and often throughout its running time, perhaps more than any other film this year. I had the pleasure of seeing Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman's Theater Camp, a mockumentary about a run-down theater camp in the mountains of upstate New York, as the closing night film of this year's Chicago Critics Film Festival back in May, and even just going back and watching clips from the film still brings me back to that theater where everybody was laughing at this film's constant jokes that seemed to be squarely aimed at my personal experiences, both as a theater kid from the time I was eight and a former summer camp counselor. This film's portrayal of both the theater and summer camp aspects of its setting is so consistently spot-on that it should basically be required viewing for counselors at every summer camp that has theater as an activity. Molly Gordon and Ben Platt are both great and really funny in this, with Platt in particular proving that he should be given several more opportunities to do self-deprecating comedic roles (everyone who crapped on him after Dear Evan Hansen two years ago should watch this to see that he is capable of being a great presence on film). And the film's final sequence involving the production of an original musical staged by the film's central campers and counselors is so equally hilarious and triumphant that it reminded me more than once of the climactic musical performance in School of Rock (the 2003 film, of course), and it made me want to stand up and cheer by the end. So while I understand that others might not find this as entertaining as I did, particularly if they do not have the theater and/or summer camp experience that I do, it is still a terrifically-made comedy that also embeds a great rousing underdog story at its core, and for those reasons alone, I would highly recommend that everyone reading this give this a chance and embrace their inner theater kid for 93 minutes. But especially if you do have that theater and/or summer experience, then you must see this immediately (currently streaming on Hulu and also available to rent for $5.99).
#13. Poor Things -- The first of the films on this list that I got to see at the Telluride Film Festival with a sold-out house this past August/September, here is yet another film that, like Barbie and (to a lesser extent) Theater Camp, works as a great female-led comedy, yet on a much darker and infinitely-weirder register thanks to the brilliant madman Yorgos Lanthimos' directorial hand. Having been a huge fan of Lanthimos as a director ever since I saw The Lobster back in the summer of 2016, it has been so great to get to see him continue to work within his particular brand of weirdness on this epic of a scale, in a film that manages to be simultaneously a wildly original science-fiction/fantasy film, an often hilarious black comedy, and an expertly-constructed erotic art film. Following his first collaboration with Emma Stone on The Favourite back in 2018, Lanthimos here allows her to fully let loose with a performance for the ages that sees her going to places that I could not even comprehend her going in as recently as a year ago. She completely rules the universe and once again cements her place as one of the absolute greatest actresses of her generation. In this film, she plays a dead woman named Bella Baxter who has been resurrected thanks to the work of another brilliant madman (played by a perfectly-cast Willem Dafoe) and begins seeing the story's weird, twisted world through a horny childlike perspective, becoming obsessed with sex and, ultimately, craving true love and acceptance. In many ways, that last point is the tissue that connects all of Lanthimos' last four features, as even something as dark and insane as The Killing of a Sacred Deer is really about what happens to a person's psyche when the loving-and-accepting bonds of family are irreversibly severed, while the journey of Bella Baxter in Poor Things, with all of its sexual content and gross-out gags, tries points a way forward toward the possibility of true love and acceptance both within and outside of the family structure. And Lanthimos also continues to build on the impeccable art direction and costume design of The Favourite by constructing a world that is both rooted in the Victorian era while also seeming to exist in its own alternate universe. I was constantly marveling at the attention to detail here and how every little nook and cranny existed to further the tone and thematic elements that Lanthimos is navigating within, and the both the production and costume design elements here deserved to be recognized with Oscars (even if they ultimately will not). So yes, Poor Things absolutely rules, Yorgos Lanthimos continues to be one of the absolute most exciting filmmakers working today, and I cannot wait to see him unite once again with Emma Stone (and Willem Dafoe and Margaret Qualley) on Kinds of Kindness this coming year (now playing in select theaters).
#12. Past Lives -- Yet another film that I was lucky to get to see with a sold-out house at a film festival (this time the Chicago Critics Film Festival), Celine Song's remarkable debut feature Past Lives tells a beautiful and heartbreaking story that, like many of my favorite films of this sort, is painfully honest about the subjects of romantic love, loss, and mourning what could have been. From the moment Song establishes the two central characters (Nora and Hae Sung)'s connection as children only to split them up soon thereafter, I knew that this film was going to resonate with me on a deep emotional level. Having had a special childhood friendship that ended abruptly for reasons that did not make sense to me at the time, I could definitely relate to Hae Sung's lack of closure as he attempts to reconnect with Nora years later, hoping against hope to rekindle that special childhood connection. At the same time, however, Song's uniquely empathetic approach to all of the characters in this story allows it to transcend one character's perspective, as the audience is allowed to simultaneously feel Hae Sung's longing for a connection with Nora, Nora's internal conflict in potentially reopening this connection despite having long moved on to a new life, and even her American husband Arthur's anxiety over being seen as the villain keeping she and Hae Sung apart. The result is easily one of the best screenplays of the year, one that immediately establishes Song as a fully-formed cinematic storyteller. Accentuating this screenplay is an exquisite lead performance by Greta Lee, who does stellar work in capturing Nora's inner turmoil, particularly in the film's bittersweet final tracking shot that made me tear up both times I saw it. Teo Yoo and John Magaro also do fine work here in their respective roles, with Magaro in particular bringing some much needed levity to the proceedings here. But it is Song and her strength as a storyteller that rule the day here, and I will now eagerly anticipate any other film she makes from here on out (well, unless it is a Marvel film, which I sincerely hope is not in her future). And certainly whatever an individual audience member's personal experiences are with romantic love or the whole idea of "the one that got away" will greatly impact how they come away from this film, but this is really a film that deserves to be seen and embraced by everyone (currently available to rent for $4.99).
#11. The Iron Claw -- Although I have never been a fan of wrestling or other combat sports (i.e., boxing, MMA), I have always had an affinity for films depicting these sports, especially when they dig deeply into themes of trauma and toxic masculinity and how they are so deeply ingrained in the very nature of these sports and the men that play them (2011's Warrior, which covers mixed martial arts, is among my favorites). And The Iron Claw, Sean Durkin's profoundly sad but nevertheless enthralling and moving biopic about the Von Erich family of professional wrestlers and the numerous tragedies that plagued them for decades, is a film that immediately takes its place amongst the great modern combat sports films with genuine emotion and stellar performances throughout. As someone who did not have any background knowledge about the Von Erichs coming into this film, I was thoroughly enthralled with Durkin's cinematic rendering of this family, with his brutal but delicate handling of the familial dynamics and tragedies at the core of the story being effective throughout the film's running time. In particular, the manner in which Durkin introduces and establishes all of the brothers and builds the audience's investment in them prior to the string of tragedies that comes is beautifully crafted, as he allows the audience to see the full impact that their toxic upbringing and the brutal nature of their sport has on their mental health and warped understanding of masculinity as a whole. This is all brought home in a heartbreaking final scene that illustrates the tragic nature of toxic masculinity more than any film I have seen in a long time. In addition, the wrestling sequences here are portrayed with a visceral brutality that is reminiscent of the best fighting sequences in Warrior and even Raging Bull. The cinematography and editing are all top-notch, and the score by Richard Reed Perry (member of Arcade Fire, one of my all-time favorite bands) is really understated and beautiful as well. And the three lead performances by Zac Efron, Jeremy Allen White, and Harris Dickerson really allow the both the visceral and emotional impact of this story to be fully felt, embodying the myriad contradictions of these men fully and being never less than compelling to watch. So even if you are not a fan of wrestling or combat sports, as I am not, the Von Erich family's story is still a uniquely American tragedy, one that Durkin appropriately elevates to Shakespearean levels to craft an exquisite male melodrama with much to say about family, masculinity, and America as a whole. It is not an easy watch by any means, but a gripping and rewarding one (now playing in select theaters).
#10. The Holdovers -- The most unapologetic crowd-pleaser of the year, here is the second film on this list that I got to see at the Telluride Film Festival this past year, and that screening happened to be the film's world premiere. The electricity in the sold-out Werner Herzog Theatre at that screening and the genuine cheers and applause that erupted at the film's end was unforgettable, and the film thankfully did not lose much magic at all upon my second viewing three months later. That is because Alexander Payne, who has channeled so much bittersweet humanist magic into films such as Sideways and The Descendants throughout his career, is back to doing what he has always done best with The Holdovers, portraying human struggles and makeshift families through a lens that is always realistic and sometimes sad but ultimately heartwarming and with a good amount of comic relief. As many have said, Paul Giamatti gives one of the best performances of his career here, embodying his characters' curmudgeonly nature in a way that allows the audience to see why he is so disliked at his school while simultaneously endearing the audience to the inner pain he struggles with on a daily basis. And Payne, as he has done so beautifully in so many of his other films, gives equal attention and care to the supporting characters at play here, in particular Dominic Sessa's troubled student character and Da'Vine Joy Randolph's grieving head cook character. Both Sessa and Randolph are exceptional in these roles, going toe-to-toe with Giamatti at key moments and bringing the audience in to feel their characters' grief and pain. Much has been made of the various ways that Payne utilizes cinematography and other elements to firmly root this film in the 1970s, but it is the screenplay by David Hemingson that truly makes this film special, taking a leisurely character-focused approach that is always engaging and gives the story a feel that is old-fashioned while also being modern enough so that nothing ever feels dated or histrionic. It also manages to be simultaneously hilarious and deeply melancholy, sometimes in the same scene, culminating in a final moment that cannot help but make you smile. I have heard a lot of people over the years talk about how rare it is for a "feel-good movie" to earn the feeling that you are supposed to have when leaving the theater, but The Holdovers is precisely that film. I remember leaving the Werner Herzog Theatre and immediately texting my parents that they needed to see it when it came out, and I honestly cannot fathom how anybody would not love this film. Oh, and it is also a fantastic Christmas film, one that deserves to go down as a modern Christmas classic (currently streaming on Peacock and also available to rent for $19.99).
#9. May December -- One of the three films on my list to deal with the subject of grooming, here is Todd Haynes' latest masterwork, one that more than deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as his other films such as Safe, Far From Heaven, and Carol. The latter two, films that are deeply rooted in Haynes' love for classic melodramas, particularly those of Douglas Sirk, are among my all-time favorite films, and although time will tell if May December ends up on my all-time favorites list, it certainly is a film that represents Haynes in complete and total command of his craft. As someone who has always had a morbid fascination with true-crime stories, I was immediately impressed with how Haynes and this film's first-time screenwriter Samy Burch take a decidedly unique approach to telling the story of former teacher and child predator Mary Kay Letourneau and the aftermath of her grooming a preadolescent boy and ultimately trapping him in an obviously unhealthy marriage and family. By telling this story in a fictionalized manner through the lens of an actress as she embarks on a research excursion to prepare for playing the role of the child predator (here named Gracie Atherton-Yoo and played by frequent Haynes collaborator Julianne Moore) in an upcoming film, Haynes is able to simultaneously comment on the real Mary Kay Letourneau story and the role that the media has played exploiting both that story and countless others like it. Watching how the actress (played by Natalie Portman) slowly descends into a sort of depravity in trying to embody Gracie's mindset and ends up becoming way more intimately involved in her family's affairs than anyone would consider ethical is both disturbing and intoxicating to watch, and is greatly aided by both Portman and Moore's full commitment to the characters they themselves are portraying. But the true revelation in this film is Charles Melton as Joe, Gracie's much-younger husband who was groomed by her starting when he was 13 and now fathers three of her children. Melton's performance is quietly heartbreaking as he slowly comes to realize the permanent damage that Gracie has inflicted on him through her despicable predatory behavior more than two decades previously, and his work in one particular scene between him and his teenage son is on a level that deserves to secure him an Oscar nomination and lead him to bigger starring roles in the years ahead. And while some may be put off by the tone Haynes takes in telling this story (I have seen many people use the word "camp" in their descriptions, even going as far as to call the film a dark comedy), any use of humor is directed at the very media-industrial complex that allows the exploitation of tragic stories like the Mary Kay Letourneau case, and it helps to aid Haynes in making one of the very best films of his career, one that is yet another impressive display for some of the best writing, acting, and overall filmmaking craft of the year, and one that should be seen by everyone (currently streaming on Netflix).
#8. The Unknown Country -- And now we come to one of a handful of films on this list that was basically completely overlooked by the vast majority of people among its release. Like Past Lives and Theater Camp, I had the pleasure of seeing this film at this past year's Chicago Critics Film Festival, and while those other films were certainly crowd-pleasers and I certainly loved them (hence why they are on my list), the slow, hypnotic and deeply emotional nature of Morrisa Maltz's debut feature The Unknown Country really got under my skin and moved me in a way that no other film in the festival lineup quite did. It is a film that feels like a dream in the way that its narrative flows so seamlessly and naturally, one that will naturally evoke comparisons to the films of Terrence Malick and Chloé Zhao but one that is still very uniquely its own. It contains one of the strongest depictions of Middle America that I have seen in recent years, one that gets to very contradictions that make America what it is in a way that only an Indigenous perspective could truly and honestly capture. And this Indigenous perspective is rendered beautifully in the central performance by Lily Gladstone, one of two amazing performances by her this year. While many people have been correctly praising her performance in Killers of the Flower Moon (as I will later on in this very post), The Unknown Country belongs to her and her alone. Here, she is not playing against Leonardo DiCaprio or Robert De Niro or anyone else for that matter. She carries this film entirely on her shoulders, communicating a world of complicated emotions even in the way she smokes a cigarette. She will be seen with a blank expression driving at night listening to political talk radio, happily greeting one of the many average Americans she comes across on her travels, or partying with a group of other young people in Texas, and in all of these situations she is figuring out how to process the own tremendous grief she is experiencing that has manifested itself in the film's central road trip. And key to this film's ultimate impact are the other people that Gladstone's character comes across in this road trip, several of whom are non-actors, that are given their own unique moments in the spotlight to share their stories, hopes and dreams with both Gladstone's character and the viewers watching this film. Rather than feeling like a distraction from the central storyline, these diversions function beautifully as a part of this film's special whole, allowing Gladstone's character to understand her own personal experience in the broader context of the human condition and the country and world that she is living in. It is also a beautiful cinematic expression of the term "sonder," which is "the feeling of realizing that everyone has a life as complex and full as your own, including strangers." And, like several of the films that are forthcoming on this list, it allows this film to function on multiple levels as an "empathy machine," to paraphrase the Roger Ebert quote I continually go back to when talking about great films like this. And on top of all of this, the cinematography, sound design, and use of music is so exquisitely rendered and all serve to contribute to the hypnotic and profound effect that this film as a whole has. So yes, this is absolutely one of the best and most beautiful and important films of the year, one that has much to say about the country and world we live in and those who we interact with on a daily basis, and especially for those who have jumped on the Lily Gladstone bandwagon after Killers of the Flower Moon, please watch this film however possible. It deserves to be seen, talked about, and embraced (currently streaming on Mubi and also available to rent for $3.99).
#7. Palm Trees and Power Lines -- Speaking of completely overlooked films by debuting female filmmakers that I first saw at the Chicago Critics Film Festival, here is a film I first saw all the way back in May 2022 at that year's Chicago Critics Film Festival (in case you have not picked up on it by now, it is a really amazing film festival) and the impact that the film had on me then still resonates almost exactly 20 months later (it counts as a 2023 release because it was given a theatrical/VOD release this past March). Jamie Dack's debut feature film Palm Trees and Power Lines tells a story of grooming in a very different way than Todd Haynes does with May December, instead choosing to focus on the process of it from the perspective of a teenage girl named Lea who unwittingly falls into the grasp of a man twice her age who quickly makes her his victim through a grooming process that basically everyone except her notices. The resulting film is an unflinching, gut-wrenching, and terrifying film that serves as a powerful cautionary tale about grooming, sexual abuse and trafficking and the painful trauma and isolation that comes with all of it. Dack's screenplay is so masterfully constructed and paced as to consciously build tension while never drawing attention to itself. Particularly in comparison to many of the so-called horror and thriller films that came out this past year, Palm Trees and Power Lines builds its tension and suspense by simply portraying a sequence of events as innumerable young women have experienced them over the course of millennia. Similarly, the cinematography captures the Southern California setting in a sort-of haze that fits the setting while also being able to effectively capture Lea's mindset, both as she is drifting through her adolescent season and as she is blissfully unaware of the dangerous situation she is finding herself trapped in. Lily McInerny, in her first feature film role as Lea, delivers one of the greatest debut film performances I have ever seen, carrying the entire film in an understated but visceral way, capturing both her character's suburban teenage malaise and, eventually, the painful trauma of what has been done to her in heartbreaking and unforgettable ways. And while I am aware that there have been some accusations that the film solely defines Lea by her victimhood and fails to make her a fully-realized character, I would like to contend that Lea is a fully-realized character, one who is defined by the very precarious life situation that makes her a target for someone with malicious intentions, and this is a crucial part of Dack's purpose and intent with telling this story in the first place. On the other hand, Jonathan Tucker is a hauntingly convincing villain that will be seared into my memory for some time, as he portrays his predatory character in such a way that he can simultaneously be charming and charismatic while also deeply vile and malevolent. And co-writer/director Jamie Dack crafts the film with such sensitivity and skill that not a single frame feels exploitative; rather, the entire film feels so realistic as to address an all-too-real and common societal issue in a skillful and brutally honest way, one that feels like so much more than just another film on the subject of grooming, a subject I am quite aware has been covered in a lot of films and TV shows as of late. So while it is far from an easy watch, it is an urgently essential one, and one that could literally save lives by showing young girls like Lea the dangers of predatory groomers like Tucker's character in this film (currently available to rent for $4.99).
#6. Killers of the Flower Moon -- The other film on my list featuring an incredible Lily Gladstone performance, here is a film that is truly a masterwork of epic American cinema from one of the true masters of epic American cinema. As someone who was not nearly as high on The Irishman as several others were, Killers of the Flower Moon is a late-period Scorsese film that truly earns every minute of its nearly three-and-a-half hour running time, one that deserves to be recognized among such Scorsese films as Goodfellas, Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, and (my personal favorite) The Last Temptation of Christ. Much like Jamie Dack takes the viewing audience through the process of grooming step-by-step in Palm Trees and Power Lines, here Scorsese takes the viewing audience step-by-step through the process in which greedy and envious white men commit heinous acts of violence against Indigenous people for the sole purpose of controlling land and the oil that rightfully belonged to the Indigenous, in this particular case the Osage Nation. The way in which Scorsese takes the audience through this film's rendering of the "Osage Indian murders" (still known as the "Reign of Terror" among Osage) is equally compelling and infuriating, particularly in how he illustrates the romance and marriage between Ernest Burkhart (played in yet another hall-of-fame lead performance by Leonardo DiCaprio) and Mollie Kyle (the aforementioned incredible Lily Gladstone performance) and how the white man's sins of racism and greed end up destroying their newfound family in every single conceivable way. And for a filmmaker whose very name has become synonymous with the gangster genre over the last several decades, Scorsese here utilizes many of the same techniques from films such as Goodfellas and The Departed to show the Mafia-esque ways in which this "Reign of Terror" was carried out, with Robert De Niro in particular giving one of the most terrifying performances of his career as the mob boss figure who ordered the Osage murders. In addition, frequent Scorsese collaborator Rodrigo Prieto does some of the best work of his career (in one of the best years of his career between this film and Barbie), framing many of the film's most disturbing scenes in such a way that it forces the audience to truly reckon with what is being shown and not look away. Robbie Robertson, another frequent Scorsese collaborator, also does a remarkable job here with his final film score, fully embracing his own Indigenous identity and lending a propulsive nature to several scenes here. And the final sequence that this film builds up to is one of the most stunning I have seen on film in a very long time, one that fully brings home everything that Scorsese has been communicating while serving as a scathing critique of the way stories like that of the Osage killings have been exploited and appropriated for millennia (in this way, it serves as a solid companion to May December), with Scorsese even implicating himself in the very final moments. So while Killers of the Flower Moon is certainly a time commitment and not a light one at that, it is a deeply necessary one and one that serves as yet another crowning achievement for one of the greatest filmmakers of all time (currently streaming on Apple TV+ and also available to rent for $19.99).
#5. Oppenheimer -- And now we finally get to the other half of the "Barbenheimer" phenomenon, something that I was so enthusiastic to participate in this past summer as I saw both this and Barbie back-to-back twice. And while I wrote extensive above about my love for Greta Gerwig's Barbie, it was ultimately Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer that I found myself attached to more, and I truly believe it to be one of the great cinematic achievements of the 21st century by one of the cinematic greats of the 21st century, as well as Nolan's best film since Inception. Only time will tell if this ends up surpassing Inception and The Dark Knight in my personal Nolan rankings, but honestly, I think it is quite possible. Oppenheimer is just an absolutely perfect blockbuster film on every single level, one that reinforces the possibility of blockbuster cinema to serve as a viscerally and intellectually powerful history lesson and warning for the future. As per usual, Nolan's mastery of the visual and technical levels of filmmaking are nothing short of astonishing, with Hoyte van Hoytema's cinematography and especially Jennifer Lame's editing working in perfect harmony to tell this dense and complicated story with such a propulsive rhythm that is virtually impossible to look away or be bored for any part of it. Similarly, Nolan's much-praised use of practical visual effects help to ground this story in the very reality it is based in such a bone-chilling way that the story never feels less than urgent, period trappings and all. And while Nolan's screenwriting is perhaps the least-praised aspect of his artistry, his skill in non-linear storytelling, integration of exposition, and making the enigmatic Oppenheimer such a compelling anti-hero throughout the film's three-hour running time more than proves what I have argued for over a decade: that Nolan is just as brilliant a screenwriter as he is a visual/technical director. And on top of all of this, Nolan's pitch-perfect direction of actors is once again on tremendous display in this film, with Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey Jr. deserving all of the Oscar buzz that they have been for their top-notch work here, Murphy embodying J. Robert Oppenheimer's myriad contradictions in hypnotic fashion and Downey Jr. channeling his on-screen persona into a wildly entertaining scenery-chewing performance that results in him stealing every scene he is in. Additionally, Emily Blunt does career-best work as Oppenheimer's much-tortured wife Kitty, and Matt Damon, Florence Pugh, and Alden Ehrenreich also have their moments to shine in key supporting roles (and shout-out to Benny Safdie, who has the distinction of being in two of my top five films on this list). So yes, Oppenheimer is an exquisite, astonishing piece of blockbuster filmmaking at its best, and Christopher Nolan once again cements himself as absolutely the best blockbuster filmmaker working today, and I could not be happier that he finally seems to be getting the recognition he deserves from awards bodies. But perhaps even more than that, I really could not be happier that this film, thanks to "Barbenheimer," became the cultural phenomenon and box office success that it became. Like many other aspects of this film, it gives me tremendous hope for the future of cinema in my lifetime (currently available to rent for $5.99).
#4. The Zone of Interest -- Speaking of astonishing technical feats in filmmaking, here is a film that I got to see at this past year's Telluride Film Festival that immediately gripped me from its very first frame and put me through the emotional wringer by its end. I was so drained and exhausted by its end that I actually had to walk around Telluride for three hours afterward processing what I had seen. While I was not on high on writer/director Jonathan Glazer's previous film Under the Skin, The Zone of Interest is a film in which his unique formal style of filmmaking mixes with the subject matter at hand in a deeply haunting and powerful way that adds up to an absolutely major work of world cinema that deserves to be studied and discussed for a long, long time. While some people I greatly admire and respect have accused this film of being a "one-idea" or "one-note" film, the sheer strength of the idea and the note that Glazer constantly hammers for the entire 106 minute running time of the film, combined with Glazer's incredible formal approach to it, is more than enough to make this an engaging piece of filmmaking. From the first time Glazer shows the audience his instantly chilling image of Rudolf Höss and his wife in the backyard of their house watching their children play while the barbed wire of the wall separating their yard from Auschwitz concentration camp, the film takes on a fascinating quality that is equally horrifying and hypnotic. I was particularly lucky to get to see this in a theater with high-quality sound, as oftentimes the horror occurring on the other side of the wall was only communicated to the audience via the film's impeccable sound design, easily the best of the year. The way in which this film's sound designers intricately layer in the sounds of screaming, gun shots, trains, and furnaces to always keep the unspeakable horrors of Auschwitz top of mind for the audience is nothing short of stunning. And on top of that, the score by Mica Levi is one of the most effective of the year, seamlessly blending in with the rest of the sound design in such a way that sometimes it is hard to tell what is the score and what are the sound effects, which is part of the point as Glazer is tries to communicate just how people can become desensitized to events as unspeakably horrific as the Holocaust. Additionally, the two lead performances from Christian Friedel as Rudolf Höss and Sandra Hüller (in one of two great performances from her this year, the other being Anatomy of a Fall) as his wife are quietly powerful, with their subtle but key differences illustrating how the two of them both deal with their complacency in different ways. They are careful throughout not to portray these people in a noticeably villainous way, just as Glazer is careful not to frame them in any sort of cartoonishly evil light. Rather, the frightening contrast of the images and the sound design speaks for itself in a perfectly loud way, underscoring the "banality of evil" that underscores the entire running time of this. When you internalize the hatred of a group of people deeply enough, you can get to a place where you can simply go about your day while a genocide against them is being committed literally next door. And while you will certainly be emotionally drained and exhausted by the end of this film, The Zone of Interest is still a film that demands to be seen, and particularly on the biggest screen with the best possible sound you can find. It is painful but deeply necessary viewing (now playing in select theaters).
#3. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret. -- And now we get to the top three films on this list, all amazing coming-of-age dramas from female directors (yes, I am fairly predictable). The first of these films, Kelly Fremon Craig's adaptation of Judy Blume's classic novel Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret., was a film I had been eagerly anticipating ever since it was first announced, and not only did it not disappoint, I made sure to see it twice before it left theaters. As most people who are familiar with me know, I have long had a profound love and passion for coming-of-age films and films with female lead characters, and this film tells a beautiful coming-of-age story with one of the most endearing young female lead characters I have seen in some time. As soon as the film opened with a sequence introducing Margaret as a camper at an East Coast all-girls summer camp, I immediately knew I would love this film, as I spent two amazing summers as a counselor at a similar summer camp. The film then establishes Margaret's central internal conflict regarding her religious identity, having a Jewish father and a Christian mother who decided to raise her in no faith, but she nonetheless is desperately searching in the spiritual realm, hence her repeated prayers throughout the film, the first words of which give the film its title. Having also been raised in a household where my parents allowed me to decide my religious identity for myself, I very much related to Margaret's confusion and searching at that age, knowing that God exists but not having much spiritual foundation at all. The film's deep, profound honesty about growing up is likewise reflected in Margaret's relationships with her peers at school and her curiosity about her changing body. While her experiences are very specifically rooted in female adolescence, I still related and connected to much of this even as a guy, which is a real testament to the ability of Craig (and Blume as well, although I have not read the book) to make this very specific story deeply universal to the coming-of-age experience as a whole. The film's exquisitely-written screenplay also succeeds in treating its adult characters with intelligence and respect. Margaret's mother Barbara especially is given a rich backstory that intertwines with Margaret's in ways that are so natural and realistic and add significantly to the film's overall impact. And the film's final scene is one of the absolute best of the last several years, with Margaret's final line hitting me emotionally on several different levels. Much of this also has to do with the central performance by Abby Ryder Fortson, who is so deeply believable as Margaret that you cannot imagine anybody else in the role. As I said many times this past May, her performance is one of the best child performances I have ever seen and she deserves every single award imaginable for it (and, as expected, she has not gotten a single one, but still). And her work is aided by other incredible acting work from Rachel McAdams and Benny Safdie as her parents, the always-great Kathy Bates as her grandmother, and even Elle Graham as Nancy, Margaret's "friend" and one of the film's most complicated characters who could have easily been a one-dimensional villain. And I have not even mentioned the fantastic use of the 1970s setting, with some of the best production design, costume design, and use of music of the year. So yes, this is an absolutely exquisite, honest, heartbreaking, funny, and deeply moving coming-of-age masterpiece on every single level, and it is such a shame that most people seemed to ignore it upon its theatrical release this past spring. And if you were one of those people, you absolutely owe it to yourselves to watch this as soon as possible. It is such a special film (currently streaming on Starz and also available to rent for $5.99).
#2. Falcon Lake -- So up until about two weeks ago, I thought I had pretty much finalized this list (with the exception of several films listed at the top of this post that I knew I was not going to be able to get to for a while). And then I saw my friend Jim Laczkowski raving about a French-Canadian coming-of-age film on Letterboxd that I had never even heard of. The film, actress Charlotte Le Bon's directorial debut Falcon Lake, shot straight to the top of my "must-see" list, and then just a few days later I tested positive for COVID-19 and had the perfect opportunity to rent it and watch it. And, wow, did it absolutely blow me away. Setting aside my much-written-about love of coming-of-age cinema, this is a film that takes a decidedly simple coming-of-age film concept -- teenage boy spends summer at idyllic lake with family, meets girl and falls in love -- and elevates it to such a high artistic level that I could not help but marvel at what Le Bon accomplished here. Much like Kelly Fremon Craig with Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret., Le Bon possesses a deep and profound understanding of what it is like to be a young teenager and experiencing things like first love in all of its heightened glory, as well as the horrific devastation of first heartbreak and all that that entails. So much of the interactions between the two central characters here, Bastien and Chloé, burst with painful honesty, particularly in the way that Bastien desperately tries to get close to her and develop a meaningful connection, only to get thwarted by circumstances outside of his control, most maddeningly older boys who Chloé had been friends with for many previous summers and who treat Bastien like a little kid unworthy of her. This deeply-ingrained honesty is further communicated by the performances from Joseph Engel and Sara Montpetit, with Engel so truly embodying his character's loneliness and desire for connection and love that your heart regularly breaks for him, while Montpetit portrays her character with an ethereal, enigmatic air that is magnetizing even down to the way she positions herself while smoking cigarettes. Meanwhile, Le Bon includes multiple allusions to ghosts and ghost stories, most significantly a legend brought up by Chloé of someone who drowned in the lake years ago and now haunts the area. This certainly adds a profound foreboding and moodiness to the proceedings while never allowing the film to become a horror film in any traditional sense. Rather, the film simply acknowledges and plays into the real-life horror that simply stems from being a teenager with hormones and a desire to love and be loved. At the same time, however, Le Bon casts the cinematography with a fuzzy, sun-kissed haze that deliberately evokes nostalgia and timelessness and is almost certainly meant to cue the adult viewer to reflect back on their own adolescent memories (it certainly did the trick for me). But particularly as the film reaches its eerie and haunting climax, this formal choice takes on an incredibly subversive meaning that makes this one of the most brilliant formal choices I have seen in cinema in a very long time. So even if you have never heard of this film (which I'm guessing most of you reading this have not), or if you do not care for reading subtitles, Falcon Lake is still a masterpiece of world cinema, a deeply subversive coming-of-age drama, and simply one of the most original films that I have seen this year and many other years, one that everybody reading this should make a point to watch (currently available to rent for $3.99).
And...#1. Priscilla -- I have to say, once I saw Falcon Lake and formally finalized this list, I was starting to second-guess myself about my #1 choice. I could certainly have made a strong argument for either that or Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret (or even The Zone of Interest or Oppenheimer) being in this slot. However, in my view there is one film this year that combined the auteurist technical and storytelling mastery of The Zone of Interest and Oppenheimer with the profound personal and emotional impact of Margaret and Falcon Lake in such a way that has stuck with me ever since my first viewing of it, and that is Sofia Coppola's Priscilla. Like Margaret, it was a film that I was eagerly anticipating ever since it was first announced, and it not only did exceed my already sky-high expectations, but in my view it became Sofia Coppola's finest filmmaking achievement since Marie Antoinette 17 years ago. Priscilla is an astonishing film of remarkable beauty, detail, and emotion, one that functions as both a heartbreaking coming-of-age story and a sobering reckoning with the legacy of an American cultural icon. By taking an aspect of Elvis Presley's personal life that Baz Luhrmann mostly just scratched the surface of in his biopic Elvis (one that I did not hate like a lot of people did, but still found deeply flawed), Sofia Coppola shines a light on and gives a voice to Priscilla Presley, a woman that was, to put it bluntly, groomed at 14 years old by the biggest rock star on the planet, a man who stole her innocence, habitually cheated on her, abused her physically and emotionally, and ultimately trapped her in a loveless marriage while he began his self-destructive downward spiral. And while some (including Lisa Marie herself) may say this is not the Elvis they knew, this is for sure the Elvis that Priscilla knew and was married to. While the height difference between them may not have been as dramatic as it is portrayed here, it represents how Priscilla felt in his presence, and so it is absolutely valid for Coppola to portray it this way, and that only scratches the surface of how Coppola is able to capture all of her experience with a profound eye toward visualizing Priscilla's loneliness and isolation. Cailee Spaeny (who plays Priscilla Presley in my favorite performance by any human being this year, conveying a world of heartbreak and emotion in just a single glance into the empty void that is Graceland) has said that visually capturing loneliness is a consistent through line in Coppola's filmography, and she is absolutely right. It is one of the infinite reasons why The Virgin Suicides remains in my top 10 favorite films of all time. The poetic, almost hypnotic, and singularly melancholic feeling of being alone that Coppola evokes is one of the key reasons why I truly believe her to be one of the absolute greatest living filmmakers. And to bring that singular ability as a means of generating empathy with a woman who was almost completely ignored and forgotten by history is nothing short of a remarkable, important achievement, one that will surely go down as an important marker in Coppola's incredible filmography. There are so many aspects of this film I could write about, but one of the most impressive is how, although there is not a single note of Elvis' music played in this film, it still manages to have an amazing soundtrack with at least two of the best uses of pop songs in any 2023 release. And all of this culminates in a final scene that is so beautiful and cathartic and empowering that I may very well have shed multiple tears, and not only because of the pitch-perfect needle drop Coppola chooses to employ in this scene. So while I will say that the exquisite cinematography and production design needs to be seen on the biggest screen possible, please support this film however you can. It may not be the most uplifting, and it may be difficult to watch at times especially if you love Elvis, but it is my Favorite Film of 2023. If nothing else, consider Priscilla a companion piece to Baz Luhrmann's Elvis despite it being significantly better in just about every single capacity (yes, as great as Austin Butler was, Jacob Elordi's performance as Elvis here has a lot more subtle nuances that Luhrmann's maximalist direction simply could not capture). So…yes, this film is an absolute masterpiece (currently available to rent for $19.99).
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And, for anyone who's curious, here's a list of 15 runners-up, i.e. films that are really good (and, in some cases, great) that just missed the cut for my top 15, listed in alphabetical order:
