Well, I am pleased to report that, after the unusual homebound rollercoaster of 2020, 2021 was the year that my old life of socializing and frequent moviegoing officially returned to normal. After receiving my COVID-19 vaccine this past April, I fully jumped back into in-person church services and get-togethers with a new beloved friend group, and I also fully jumped back into seeing movies the way they were meant to be seen: on the big screen in a dark theater with strangers. After a one-off pre-vaccine theatrical viewing of 2020's The Father in March, my moviegoing life officially resumed in earnest on June 5, 2021, with a 35mm screening of Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven at the Music Box Theatre in Chicago that was magnificent and a warm cinematic embrace to welcome me back to movie theaters. I ended up going back to theaters 36 times this year, including a much-welcomed return to the Chicago Critics Film Festival in November, and each time I felt that same warm embrace and call to no longer take these sorts of things for granted.
And I am also pleased to report that 13 of the 15 movies on this list were movies I saw in theaters this year, which is how they should be seen by everyone reading this if at all possible. And not only are all of the movies 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 helped make this year a great one to return to the movies.
Now, as always, before I get into my top 15, here's a list of 15 films from 2021 that I have NOT yet seen but definitely want to as soon as possible:
Annette
Belfast
C'mon C'mon
The Card Counter
Flee
The Harder They Fall
A Hero
Nightmare Alley
Passing
Summertime
Tick, Tick... BOOM!
Titane
The Tragedy of Macbeth
The Worst Person in the World
Also, while I know some people have included the brilliant Netflix special Bo Burnham: Inside on their lists of the best films of 2021, I firmly believe that it exists in a category all by itself. And although I understand people's justifications for why it is more of an experimental arthouse film rather than a traditional comedy special, I do not personally agree and I likewise will not be ranking it alongside the 15 films below. I am not forgetting it, and I think it's absolutely hilarious and brilliant, but it is its own separate work of art.
And as I say every year now, these 15 films I'm about to list (and the order in which I list them) may not be what some would consider the BEST films of 2021; but rather, they are my personal FAVORITE films that, for one reason or another, impacted me as a film reviewer and as an aspiring filmmaker and that, in my opinion, speak in some way to the broader world we all live in. So, without further ado, here are my top 15 favorite films of 2021 from 15 to 1:
#15. Belle -- The first of three films on this list that I had the honor of seeing this past year at the comeback edition of the Chicago Critics Film Festival (and the festival's surprise Audience Award winner), this film was a genuine surprise for me in how much I loved it. I'm not nearly as schooled on Japanese anime as several of my close friends are (my knowledge of it basically extends to the films of Hayao Miyazaki), but this film is beautifully animated enough to make you at least curious enough to learn more about it. Seriously, the experience of watching these animated images flash across the Music Box Theatre's screening on a Sunday afternoon is still burned into my brain, and said images are stunning enough to make all of Disney's animated endeavors this year look quaint by comparison. And rather than just being eye-candy for anime fans, writer/director Mamoru Hosoda uses these images to serve an entertaining, exciting, and surprisingly emotional story of a teenage girl who becomes a famous pop star thanks to the alter ego she creates in the virtual world "U". From there, Hosoda takes loose inspiration from Beauty and the Beast while drawing on real-life stories of cyberbullying and adolescent female mental health to create a film that, like of best of Pixar and Miyazaki, provides plentiful visual euphoria while never talking down to kids and communicating themes that will resonate just as much (if not more) with adults as they will with kids. As people rightly worry about the current mental health crisis among young people (especially young women) that has only worsened in the last two years, we should be thankful to Hosoda and his collaborators for creating a piece of storytelling that speaks powerfully to this crisis in an accessible way that should resonate with everyone regardless of their background or where they are now in their lives. So any parents reading this should definitely make a point to watch this with their kids and talk with them about it afterward, and even if you don't have kids, go see this anyway, and please see this in a theater if you can, as it is one of the most visually beautiful movies I've seen in several years (coming to theaters January 14, with special IMAX preview screenings on January 12).
#14. Cusp -- Speaking of films that speak powerfully to the current crisis surrounding adolescent female mental health, here is a film that is, in many ways, the polar opposite of Belle and yet perfectly compliments it. I had the privilege of seeing this documentary as part of last year's virtual Sundance Film Festival just as I was about to write a 25-page M.A. thesis on gender presentation and teenage violence in cinema, and wow, did this hit me right in the gut. Tough to watch yet fascinating, and candid without ever feeling staged or resorting to exploitation, this documentary from first-time feature documentarians Isabel Bethencourt and Parker Hill takes a cinéma vérité approach to capturing the lives of three teenage girls over the course of a single summer in a Texas military town as they struggle with addiction, body image, and most of all, the toxic masculine culture of their town where the very idea of consent is basically nonexistent. And of all this is communicated with a sort of eerie nonchalance by the three girls and juxtaposed artfully with the natural "golden-hour" beauty of this time and place. While, yes, it does meander at points, it all works as a way of immersing the viewer in the meandering lives of these girls as they drink, smoke, party, and hook up with guys. In an era where cinema and media as a whole love to focus on enlightened/"woke" teenagers and members of Gen Z (such as the two main characters in 2019's Booksmart) in order to propagate comfortable "feel-good" narratives, it's refreshing to see a film like Cusp that shines a light on the sorts of teenage Americans ignored by society, who aren't socially/politically active and yet live lives as vivid and complex as our own, and who have stories that need and deserve to be told. And as tough and uncomfortable as it might be to see these stories and lives laid out on film in the most intimate of ways (and it is intimate; Bethencourt and Hill both shot the film as well as directed it), this is still necessary viewing, and I believe it will go down as one of the great and essential documents of American female adolescence to date (currently streaming on Showtime).
#13. Spencer -- Earlier this year I had a conversation at a family get-together with relatives who had recently rewatched at least one of the Twilight films. Inevitably, the conversation turned to Kristen Stewart's acting ability (or, in the opinion of these particular relatives, lack thereof), and in stark contrast to the way this conversation would have gone a decade prior, I spoke very loudly in defense of her skill as an actor, having seen great performances from her in films such as 2016's Certain Women and 2017's Personal Shopper. And now, with her performance as Princess Diana in Pablo Larraín's magnificent and freewheeling biopic Spencer, any naysaying on Kristen Stewart's acting ability should be put to permanent rest, as she completely disappears into this role and delivers a haunting, powerful performance that singlehandedly carries this movie from beginning to end. While I admit to only having remote knowledge of Princess Diana and her role within the British royal family (I was just over six months old when she died), I absolutely love the decision that Larraín and writer Steven Knight made in focusing this film on a three-day period during Christmas 1991, right in the midst of Diana's troubled marriage to Prince Charles that would inevitably end in divorce. While seemingly insignificant in that not much is known about this particular weekend (this is, in fact, a work of historical fiction based entirely on speculation), what is significant here is how brilliantly Larraín, Knight, and Stewart work together to paint an exquisite portrait of emotional hell, rightly showing the British royal family as a cult and Diana as a troubled woman trying to escape from within. Their coldness toward her is evident right from the beginning, and the horrific sense of Diana's own mental and emotional imprisonment is incredibly strong throughout. While this might not give viewers any new historical insights into Princess Diana, it does an amazing, haunting and beautiful job at capturing both her essence and that of the royal family. And once again, Kristen Stewart is an incredible actress and this is absolutely the performance of a lifetime, one that may very well win her the Best Actress Oscar this year and I am perfectly okay with that (currently available to rent for $3.99).
#12. Stillwater -- Perhaps the single most overlooked film of this year (in a year with many overlooked films), writer/director Tom McCarthy's slow-burning true-crime-adjacent crime drama and long-awaited follow-up to Spotlight (save for one film he did for Disney+ in 2020) was released into theaters this summer and went largely ignored by both critics and audiences, which is a shame because this is a truly riveting and provocative character study from one of the great humanist filmmakers of our time. Wrongly marketed as a Liam Neeson-esque thriller about a father (Matt Damon, in what I believe to be the best performance of his career) trying to prove his daughter's innocence after she is wrongly imprisoned for murder, what this film really reveals itself to be about is a broken man trying to make things right with his daughter (Abigail Breslin, proving that she's more than capable of a smooth transition from child to adult acting) while also becoming a part of a new family in France. In this way, while on a larger scale and with the whole true-crime-adjacent element of the story, Stillwater is a very natural extension of the sort of unlikely-family/friendship stories McCarthy has been doing since his wonderful debut feature The Station Agent. And Damon's character's relationship with his French friend-turned-love interest (Camille Cottin) and her daughter (Lilou Siauvaud) forms the heart of this movie beautifully and is such a joy to watch. Even when this movie slows down from the central conflict (and at 2 hours and 20 minutes, that can be risky), the writing and performances are so engrossing that it never feels like it drags, and I honestly wanted to see and spend more time with these characters once it was over. And while this movie's ending can be (and has been) debated, I thought it was incredibly powerful and helped to really drive home the central theme of this film: that nothing is ever black-and-white and that we are all flawed human beings who exist in a morally gray area regardless of our intentions. And although that may not be the theme or message that people want out of a film like this, it certainly elevates it to a higher level beyond just another Taken ripoff, and into a film that people should definitely seek out if they dismissed or ignored it this past summer. Not the lightest viewing experience, but one that certainly rewards (currently available to rent for $5.99).
#11. The Green Knight -- Those who know me know that I have never been the biggest fan of the fantasy genre outside of the Harry Potter series. I famously tore the first of Peter Jackson's Hobbit movies to shreds when I reviewed it in high school, and it took me until my senior year of college to even watch the original Lord of the Rings trilogy (and I very much enjoyed it when I did). And when my college roommates tried to sit me down and have me watch Game of Thrones, I quickly lost interest and did not make it past Episode 5. So normally, a medieval fantasy film like The Green Knight would not particularly interest me. And yet, writer/director David Lowery is a true visionary filmmaker in the indie world (with A Ghost Story being perhaps the film I most regret not being able to see in the theater), and he has crafted a spectacular and remarkable film here, one that is much more Last Temptation of Christ than Game of Thrones, and that is an unambiguous compliment coming from me. Starring Dev Patel in his best performance since Slumdog Millionaire as Sir Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur and son of Morgan le Fay, the film follows his hero's journey as he seeks to face the film's titular character in what is really a test of courage and, as it turns out, a challenge to the whole idea of what a "legend" is. Especially as someone whose only real interaction with the legend of King Arthur came from reading the Magic Tree House books as a kid (where Morgan le Fay was a key character), I loved Lowery's boldness in deconstructing the whole idea of Arthurian legend and making this a pure art film, one that is as hypnotic and ambitious as any pure art film I've seen this year. And because of that, many who watch this film thinking it will be anything like Guy Ritchie's King Arthur movie from 2017 will be gravely disappointed and puzzled. And yet, perhaps those who have no interest in this subject matter (like me) will take a chance on this and come away challenged and rewarded. Seeing this on the big screen at my local multiplex in Indiana (where only one other person was in the theater) was the most viscerally powerful experience I had had watching a new movie in a theater since Sundance 2020, and it still stays with me five months later. Regardless of your background in Arthurian legend, this is definitely a film more than worth seeking out and being challenged by (currently available to rent for $4.99).
#10. The Souvenir Part II -- All the way back in the shockingly-not-so-distant past of 2019, a good friend of mine told me about a British drama film he loved called The Souvenir. I hadn't even heard of the film before he had told me about it, and I unfortunately was not able to see it in theaters when it played Chicago, as I was in the midst of graduating from college and then heading to a summer job in Maine. In fact, it wouldn't be until this past summer that I finally got around to watching The Souvenir on Amazon Prime (it is now streaming on Showtime) and it certainly did not disappoint. In fact, it was such a quietly powerful and unique piece of autobiographical filmmaking that I was almost mad at myself for putting off watching it for so long, and I made it my mission to see writer/director Joanna Hogg's sequel to the film in theaters as soon as it was released at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago. And I have to say, as great as the first Souvenir film was, The Souvenir Part II is even greater, the exceptionally rare sequel that earns legitimate comparisons to The Godfather Part II. While The Souvenir was a stark and powerful portrait of a toxic relationship and the soullessness therein, The Souvenir Part II is one of the greatest fictional portraits of the filmmaking process that I have ever seen. Based on both Hogg's own film school experience in 1980s London as well as her experience making the first Souvenir film, this film finds itself freed of the responsibility of portraying the first film's toxic relationship and allows both Hogg and her stand-in/muse Honor Swinton Byrne (yes, Tilda Swinton's daughter) the freedom to fully express their own creativity and agency to wonderful effect. And yet, what this film accomplishes so beautifully is communicating the inherent need to create, especially after going through trauma, and how many people just will not understand how this creativity is expressed. It often does not come out neatly, and oftentimes will come in ways that will alienate people. Many who watched the first Souvenir film were critical of its slow pace and somewhat messy structure, and those same criticisms are expressed regarding the main character's thesis film here. But for patient and introspective viewers, both Souvenir films allow a window into a young woman's emotional journey and creative process that is exceedingly rewarding (no VOD release date yet).
#9. The Power of the Dog -- The second film I saw at this year's comeback Chicago Critics Film Festival, and one of my two favorites from that batch of films, this was a film I was lucky enough to have completely avoided reading anything about, other than general information about writer/director/cast/genre and acclaim on the festival circuit, and that is absolutely the best way to watch it. From the moment this film started playing in glorious 4K on the Music Box Theatre's large screen, I was completely locked in and mesmerized, as writer/director Jane Campion, working alongside cinematographer Ari Wegner and aided tremendously by master composer Jonny Greenwood's hypnotic score, casts an unbelievable spell that lasts through the entire 126 minute running time. While this film's story and setting definitely has all the makings for being another typical revisionist Western in the vein of Unforgiven (among others), it nonetheless takes on an almost Terrence Malick-esque sense of visual poetry and lyricism that speaks volumes about family, faith, masculinity, and sexuality in a way that few other Westerns even come close to addressing. And instrumental to this film's ability to address these subjects are the two lead male performances by Benedict Cumberbatch and Kodi Smit-McPhee. As someone who's always enjoyed Cumberbatch's performances in movies when I've seen them (namely his magnificent performance in The Imitation Game back in 2014), his transformation into this film's chilling central figure Phil Burbank is a whole level up for him as an actor, and the result is a career-defining performance by him. But as outstanding as Cumberbatch is, Smit-McPhee is this film's true breakout. Having only been familiar with his lead vocal performance in 2012's ParaNorman and his very minor role in 2019's Dolemite Is My Name, I was truly blown away by the amount of depth and emotion in his performance here, especially when the film reaches its climax. He is a true revelation in this film, and I would not be surprised at all if he takes home a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his work here. In fact, I would not be surprised or upset if this film takes home at least five Oscars come March. It is just that terrific (currently streaming on Netflix).
#8. Drive My Car -- Speaking of film's almost certain to take home an Oscar, I would be utterly stunned if this quiet but epic gem of a film out of Japan does not win this year's Best International Feature Oscar. Seeing this the day before Christmas Eve at the Music Box Theatre in Chicago, here is another film that, like The Power of the Dog, does not use big flashy drama or set-pieces to draw you in, but rather uses a hypnotic sensibility and two beautifully real and compelling central characters to generate a sense of empathy that draws you to them and never lets go. Set in modern Japan, this film's story follows a stage actor who accepts an offer to direct a production of the classic Chekhov play Uncle Vanya in Hiroshima following the unexpected death of his wife. During this two-month residency, he forms a close bond with the young woman who has been hired to chauffeur him to and from the theater, as they both bond over their shared grief and guilt regarding the deaths of loved ones. Drawn from a short story by famed Japanese fiction writer Haruki Murakami, writer/director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's brilliant screenplay boldly mines the depths of these characters' grief and guilt, taking the audience on their healing journey for the entirety of this film's three-hour running-time. And yes, this movie is three hours long and it feels every minute of it, which in most cases would be negative but in this film's case is actually a positive. The slow-paced three-hour running-time allows us to experience time as these characters experience it, and by the end of the film, we love and care about them as if they were our best friends, which allows for a strong sense of empathy that makes this one of the most emotionally riveting cinematic experiences you'll have all year. And on top of that, like The Souvenir Part II, this is an outstanding film about the artistic/creative process, showing how life can imitate art in the most subtle but impactful of ways. In particular, one of the film's final scenes showing the production of Uncle Vanya is so quietly powerful that it almost singlehandedly makes this one of the best films of the year, and the definition of a film that rewards patience (now playing in select theaters).
#7. CODA -- Perhaps the most unapologetic crowd-pleaser of the year, I first saw this absolute warm-hearted gem of a film this past February as a part of the virtual Sundance Film Festival, and it instantly took a place in my heart that it has not left since. Those who know me know that two of my favorite types of films are coming-of-age films and films with female leads, and writer/director Sian Heder crafts an absolutely beautiful and all-around perfect coming-of-age story here with an unbelievably charming, strong, lovable but flawed and all-around real female lead character. This character, Ruby Rossi (played by the amazing Emilia Jones in an instantly star-making performance), is the CODA (Child Of Deaf Adults) of the title, a hearing teenage girl whose life has been dedicated to assisting her deaf family's fishing business and serving as their free interpreter and translator. However, as she is now of the age where she's beginning to realize her own dreams and passions, she finds herself torn between a career joining her family's fishing business full-time and going to Berklee School of Music in Boston to follow her dream to be a singer. And while this may seem like the most basic, predictable coming-of-age story setup ever, this film transcends every single cliché that jaded and cynical cinephiles love to mock on the sheer strength of its heart, sincerity, and unique perspective. While people who are deaf and hard-of-hearing have been the subjects of films before, to my knowledge they have never been portrayed quite as realistically and without judgment or superiority as they do here. The scenes with Ruby and her family where they joke, make crude sex jokes and bask in scatological humor make for some of the most entertaining moments of the movie year and really work wonders to humanize people who are deaf on screen. And they are further brought to the life by the performances of the wonderful deaf actors Troy Kotsur, Daniel Durant, and of course the amazing Oscar-winning Marlee Matlin, who deserves an Oscar just for her work to make sure that only deaf actors were cast as deaf characters. And of course, Emilia Jones as Ruby gives one of the absolute strongest lead performances of the year, carrying this film with all of her heart, soul, might, and strength, culminating in a powerful performance of "Both Sides Now" that would have surely gotten a standing ovation had this movie been allowed to show to a sold-out house at Sundance. So yes, I love this movie, and if you have not seen it yet...it is seriously worth a free trial of AppleTV+ just to stream this. So do it! (currently streaming on AppleTV+...along with Ted Lasso if you haven't seen that either.)
#6. Last Night in Soho -- Speaking of coming-of-age films and films with female leads, here is a film that is almost the exact opposite of CODA and yet is equally powerful in an entirely different manner. Writer/director Edgar Wright, his generation's master of the genre-bending exercise (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Baby Driver, etc.), absolutely knocks it out of the park here with his darkest film yet, a pure psychological fever-dream nightmare drama that works on every single level and provides a brilliant showcase for two of this generation's best young actresses to give two absolutely stellar performances. The film's lead actress, Thomasin McKenzie (who somehow manages to top her brilliant work in both Leave No Trace and Jojo Rabbit), is absolutely endearing as Ellie, a shy young girl haunted by the death of her mother and with dreams of becoming a fashion designer. Upon moving to the Soho neighborhood and beginning studies at the London College of Fashion, she begins to leave her flat at night and enter the 1960s, where she encounters a young aspiring singer (Anya Taylor-Joy, beautiful and endearing as ever) and quickly has her nostalgic notions of 1960s London shattered. And while there have been many criticisms of this movie's twist (which I wouldn't dare spoil), as well as Wright putting his influences on full display, I think that both of these aspects are actually strengths that this film has. For one, this film serves as a deeply pointed criticism of our culture's current obsession with nostalgia by invoking our simultaneously-current sensitivity toward issues of sexual violence. By turning the tables halfway through, and by including the twist he includes, Wright is refusing to allow us to get comfortable and cozy because doing so would invalidate the film's whole message/warning regarding nostalgia. And Wright putting his influences from the giallo films of the 1960s on full display is another brilliant subversion, as he's playing into certain viewers' own nostalgia for those films by weaponizing it against this film's nostalgia-obsessed protagonist. And this film also contains some of the absolute best cinematography and visual effects of the year, as Wright and his DP Chung-hoon Chung make the camera into its own character in this film, particularly in one scene in the first half at a nightclub, seamlessly weaving both McKenzie and Taylor-Joy's characters into the same shot. Seeing this movie in 35mm at the Music Box Theatre was one of the most visually dazzling experiences I've had in a theater this year, and all the more rewarding because of Wright's pitch-perfect cinematic storytelling, and if you dismissed this film last fall or simply haven't even heard of it, please do yourself a favor immediately and watch it now. You will not regret it (currently available to rent for $19.99).
#5. West Side Story -- In addition to coming-of-age films and films with female leads, two other types of films I cherish are old-fashioned romances and musical films, hence why 2016's La La Land and Bradley Cooper's 2018 re-imagining of A Star is Born were among my favorite films of the last decade. However, what may come as a shock to many reading this is that, prior to seeing Steven Spielberg's magnificent retelling of West Side Story, I had absolutely no background in West Side Story whatsoever. I had never (and still have not) seen the 1961 film, and other than a very vague childhood memory of seeing a "Theater in the Park" staging of the musical in my hometown, I had no familiarity with the musical outside of passing pop culture knowledge. So I went into this film about as cold as you could possibly get, and wow, did this film absolutely deliver. Rather than just provide fan-service for the people familiar with the musical and the 1961 film, Spielberg presents this classic story as a brand-new relevant work of art for today's audiences while never forgetting this story's tale-as-old-as-time roots in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (the only thing I had to base it off of). Everything from the gritty set design to the modern-flavored choreography to the authentic casting and bold lack of subtitles for the Spanish dialogue is pitch-perfect here, placing the audience squarely inside of this world in a way that too few musical films do. And, as custom for anything directed by Steven Spielberg, he uses a tremendous amount of pathos to hook the audience beyond the typical bells-and-whistles of a large production like this, building strong emotional connections with all of the lead characters that makes this story's climax all the more tragic and heartbreaking even when the outcome is already a foregone conclusion. And on top of all that, the ensemble cast gathered here is maybe the strongest in any movie this year. The decision to cast relatively unfamiliar faces in many of these roles, especially newcomer Rachel Zegler as Maria and Broadway actors Ariana DeBose and Mike Faist (among others), is a brilliant one, and only more brilliant by just how amazingly talented they are. Zegler and DeBose, in particular, shine tremendously in their roles, displaying the right amounts of confident screen presence and authentic vulnerability while singing amazingly well. Even the couple of familiar faces in this film, namely Ansel Elgort and the great Rita Moreno, feel right at home here and inhabit their roles splendidly (and, yes, Elgort is certainly the least impressive of the main cast, but he still does great work with the role he's given). It's really a shame that this isn't performing better theatrically, but I do think this will come to be seen as the definitive film adaptation of the musical, and one of the great modern movie musicals by those who seek this out, and it demands to be sought out, especially on the biggest screen possible. It's truly a masterful work by one of the greatest of all cinema masters (now playing in theaters).
#4. Petite Maman -- There have been certain times throughout my film-consuming life where I hear rumblings about a film that's been screened on the festival circuit and I immediately know that I have to seek it out however possible. From the very first rumblings I heard about Céline Sciamma's beautiful, tender, and quietly moving Petite Maman, I knew I had to do whatever I could to see it as soon as possible, even if that meant buying a $25 ticket to see it on a Wednesday night at the Chicago International Film Festival. And I have absolutely zero regrets, as this film presents a powerfully melancholic portrayal of a slice of young girlhood that is specific, yet universal, and crams so much emotional depth and insight into its 72-minute running-time that you may not know just how deeply special this movie is until long after it's over. Written as a children's parable for adults, and the polar opposite of Sciamma's previous feature Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Petite Maman portrays an eight-year-old girl name Nelly who is grieving the loss of her grandmother away from her mother when she comes across another eight-year-old girl building a treehouse in the woods next to the cottage where she's staying. From there, they form a friendship that ends up helping Nelly come to terms with her own mother's humanity in a deeply profound way. I actually had the honor and privilege to do an in-depth review of this film for The Baram House online magazine, which you can read here, but for right now I will just say this: while this film may seem like maudlin and saccharine children's fare on paper, this is actually one of the best films I've ever seen about grief from a child's perspective, one that never talks down to kids and could actually be a really powerful teaching tool for kids who are in a similar situation as Nelly. Now, of course, I have no idea how actual kids would respond to this film, because I can only speak for myself as a nearly 25-year-old man, but no matter your age, background, or where you are in your life now, you will have an emotional response to this film, and perhaps it will lead you to reconsider aspects of your own childhood as well (coming soon to select theaters).
#3. Nine Days -- It's really hard for me to believe that it's been just about two years now since I first saw Edson Oda's unbelievably powerful and entrancing directorial debut at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival, but it has been, and the experience of seeing this film in the massive sold-out Ray Theatre in Park City is one I will not soon forget. I truly felt part of a huge communal experience at that early morning screening, where over five hundred people were on the exact same wavelength experiencing this ethereal, incredibly intelligent and emotionally-powerful existential drama. This is a film that manages to entertain while provoking intense melancholy and ultimately profound joy and appreciation for the very experience of life, and it is one that demands to be experienced in a movie theater if at all possible. From this film's opening moments, where we experience a sort of highlight reel of a young woman's life from her birth to her untimely death, this film puts you under its existential spell and holds you there for the entirety of its running-time. But much like an adult-oriented version of Pixar's Soul from last year, Nine Days never allows this film’s premise or ideas get in the way of making you care deeply about its characters and becoming deeply invested in their journeys. Its combination of deliberate pacing, real human emotion, and even some great moments of humor (particularly one scene that takes place during a backyard dinner) make this a film that can — and should — appeal to viewers from all backgrounds and life experiences. And also, this film includes what is, for my money, the single best male performance by an actor all year, and that is Winston Duke as Will, the film's protagonist and heart and soul. His moments in the final scene are among the most joyous and emotionally powerful of any movie I have seen in years, and if this film simply had better backing for awards consideration or even just general public awareness, he would be a surefire Oscar contender (but, of course, reality doesn't work like that). Like Petite Maman, this is a film I was able to write about in-depth for The Baram House online magazine, and you can read my complete thoughts on the film here, but please, if you've never even heard of this, just take a chance on it. You will not regret it in the slightest (currently available to rent for $4.99).
#2. Procession -- While I am certainly not quite the documentary connoisseur that some others are, there are sometimes when a documentary comes along that impacts me in ways that a feature film on the same subject matter could never do. That's why documentaries like Dear Zachary, Stories We Tell, Hoop Dreams, Life Animated, and Won't You Be My Neighbor? are among my all-time favorite films now. And one film I saw at this year's Chicago Critics Film Festival that instantly joined the rankings of all-time documentaries for me is Robert Greene's horrific, painful, and yet enormously powerful and important documentary Procession, a harrowing look at the psychology of men who were abused by Catholic priests as young boys and how the trauma impacts them years later as adults. And yet, rather than just focusing on the stories of abuse in the way that Amy Berg's essential Deliver Us From Evil does, or even focusing on the egregious systemic cover-up like Spotlight does (although Procession certainly covers both topics powerfully), what separates this documentary and elevates it to a whole other stratosphere is how it beautifully and powerfully illustrates the healing power of storytelling and filmmaking in coming to terms with trauma. Watching each of these men process their individual and collective stories while staring down their demons makes for some of the most gut-wrenching moments I have ever experienced in a movie theater. In particular, watching some of these men directly recreate their childhood encounters with the pedophile priests who sexually abused them is both excruciatingly painful and yet deeply cathartic, as it forces both them and us to confront the most evil and diabolical behavior that humanity is capable of, and yet we collectively become stronger while doing so. And even while this film exposes and addresses that behavior and trauma, it still manages to end on a strong message of hope, as it acknowledges the sheer power of community, therapy, and art to expose and ultimately triumph over abuse, violence, and any form of evil that exists in this world, and as a Christian myself, it is more than encouraging to see many of these men still holding onto their own personal faith despite the institutional failings of the Catholic Church. I don't say this lightly, but every single human being reading this right now owes it to themselves to see this movie. It is extraordinary and essential documentary filmmaking on the highest of levels (currently streaming on Netflix).
And...#1. Licorice Pizza -- And while Procession may very well still be objectively the best and most important film of the year, no other film brought me even close to the amount of sheer joy and entertainment that Paul Thomas Anderson's masterpiece Licorice Pizza did in the year 2021. From the second this film started until the second it ended, I was locked in and on this film's wavelength for every single frame. As I have already mentioned a few times in this post, I love coming-of-age films and films with female leads with all of my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and I also happen to love every single film by writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson, so of course he has to go and make a spectacular coming-of-age film with an amazing female lead character...and obviously, this film being my favorite of the year was a foregone conclusion. But beyond that, Anderson has managed to create an oddball love/friendship story that almost contagious in its sweetness and sincerity, perfectly casting two acting newcomers in these roles and getting exquisite chemistry out of them that never once hits a false note. The second these two first interact, I was on-board for whatever would happen between them afterward, and boy do things happen. I never thought I would have any emotional investment in the fate of a waterbed-selling business, but Paul Thomas Anderson is such a genius that he makes the audience care tremendously about it. While I have always liked the band HAIM ever since I first saw them open for Taylor Swift on her 1989 Tour in 2015, I never thought I would fall in love with Alana Haim as a lead actress in a film, and yet Anderson has made that happen too. And I never even thought Cooper Hoffman would project such a confidence and charisma that I completely forgot until the end credits rolled that he is, in fact, the son of Philip Seymour Hoffman, and yet Anderson made that happen too. But beyond all of this, Licorice Pizza is truly a sensational hangout movie, where there is barely a plot, and yet the characters are so beautifully drawn and real that you will go wherever they take you. It is a pitch-perfect recreation of a time and place on par with what Tarantino accomplished with Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood. And beyond the spectacular performances from Haim and Hoffman, it is also a great ensemble piece, with truly memorable turns from Bradley Cooper, Sean Penn, and Benny Safdie that entertain while never distracting from the work as a whole. Oh, and the 70mm cinematography (Anderson's fourth feature in a row to be exhibited in that format) is outstanding and adds so much to this already perfect work. So...yeah, I am absolutely, completely, and utterly in love with this movie, I wanted to roll the print again immediately after my first viewing (I still have only seen this once!), and I cannot possibly recommend it highly enough. If you have not seen this already, please do yourself a favor immediately. This is absolutely my favorite film of 2021, it is Paul Thomas Anderson's best film since There Will Be Blood, and I feel perfectly comfortable saying it is one of my favorite filmgoing experiences of my entire life. It is just that great (now playing in select theaters).
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And, for anyone who's curious, here's a list of 10 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:
Dune
The Eyes of Tammy Faye
The French Dispatch
In The Heights
King Richard
Pig
The Reason I Jump
Red Rocket
Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)
