Under the Sea

Underwater

by Hope Madden

Kristin Stewart has been stretching.

Yes, she will probably forever be first known as that girl from Twilight, unfortunately. But, in the same way her ex-vampire lover Robert Pattinson has relentlessly carved a stronger impression via challenging independent film roles, Stewart has been honing her craft and developing a reputation as a solid talent via varying roles in small budget films.

The few dozen or so of us who saw her versatility over the last few years in Personal Shopper, JT LeRoy, Lizzie, Certain Women, Still Alice and Clouds of Sils Maria no longer think first of Twilight’s Bella Swan.

But Ellen Ripley?

William Eubank’s deep sea horror Underwater sees Stewart as Nora, a no-nonsense, quick thinking, fast acting survivor—the kind who just might keep the remaining crew alive as they try to make their way from an irreversibly damaged deep sea drill rig to a nearby vessel that might have pods to float them to safety.

But what caused the damage in the first place and what is making that noise?

Eubank has assembled a surprisingly solid cast for his “Alien Under the Sea” flick. Joining Stewart as the rig’s humbly heroic captain is the always excellent Vincent Cassel, while John Gallagher Jr. plays the latest in his long line of effortlessly likeable good guys, Smith. Chubby comic relief is delivered by T.J. Miller.

If that sounds like your basic set of recognizable stereotypes assembled to be picked off one by one, you’ve detected the first major problem with Eubank’s film: a breathtaking lack of originality.

The script, penned by Brian Duffield (The Babysitter) and Adam Cozad (The Legend of Tarzan), offers nothing in the way of novelty and much of the dialog is stilted, and Nora’s third act reveal of the emotional damage she must overcome is false and forced.

Luckily, Eubanks somehow convinced a bunch of genuinely talented actors to deliver these lines, so they mainly come off fine. And while the director frustratingly and consistently undercuts the claustrophobic tension he’s begun building, his monsters are pretty cool looking.

Stewart gets to try on the action hero role, and she’s not too bad. For a 95 minute sea monster movie, neither is Underwater. It’s not too good, either, but at least there are no sparkly vampires.

In the Name of the Son

Three Christs

by Hope Madden

“Three grown men who believe they are Jesus Christ—it’s almost comical,” reads Bradley Whitford’s Clyde, a Ypsilanti mental patient who happens to be one of those three men. There is something bittersweet and meta about his reading that particular line from Dr. Stone’s (Richard Gere) report on the experimental procedure the doctor is undertaking with his three chosen patients.

On its surface, Three Christs itself seems almost comical. Whitford, Walton Goggins and Peter Dinklage play real life patients institutionalized in Michigan in the 1960s, each of whom believed they were Jesus. Just below the surface is a sad, lonesome story of a medical system ill-equipped and unwilling to treat the individual, and of the peculiar, touching struggles of three souls lost within that system.

Director Jon Avnet, writing with Eric Nazarian, adapts social psychologist Milton Rokeach’s nonfiction book on his own study, “The Three Christs of Ypsilanti.”

Whitford’s performance is fine, but he’s somewhat out of his league when compared to Dinklage and Goggins. Dinklage is the film’s heartbeat and he conveys something simultaneously vulnerable and superior in his behavior. He’s wonderful as always, but it’s Goggins who steals this film.

Walton Goggins continues to be an undervalued and under-recognized talent. He can play anything from comic relief to sadistic villainy to nuanced dramatic lead (check out his turn in Them That Follow for proof of the latter). Here the rage that roils barely beneath the surface speaks to the loneliness and pain of constantly misunderstanding and being misunderstood that has marked his character’s entire life.

Gere is the weakest spot in the film. He charms, and his rare scenes with Juliana Margulies, playing Stone’s wife Ruth, are vibrant and enjoyable. But in his responses to his patients and in his struggles against the system (mainly embodied by Stephen Root and Kevin Pollak), he falls back on headshakes, sighs and bitter chuckles.

Aside from two of the three Christs’ performances, Avent’s film looks good but lacks in focus, failing to hold together especially well. The point of the extraordinary treatment method is never very clear, nor is its progress. Stone’s arc is also weak, which again muddies the point of the film.

Three Christs misses more opportunities than it grabs, which is unfortunate because both Dinklage and especially Goggins deliver performances worth seeing.

Presumed Guilty

Just Mercy

by George Wolf

You may have noticed there’s no shortage of films exposing the miscarriages of justice that have landed innocent people on Death Row.

Sadly, that’s because there’s no shortage of innocent people on Death Row.

So while the prevailing themes in Just Mercy are not new, the sadly ironic truth is their familiarity brings an added layer of inherent sympathy to the film, which helps offset the by-the-numbers approach taken by director/co-writer Destin Daniel Cretton.

Cretton and co-writer Andrew Lanham adapt the 2014 memoir by Bryan Stevenson, an attorney and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, that details Stevenson’s years providing legal counsel to the poor and wrongly convicted in Alabama.

The film keeps its main focus on the case of Walter McMillan (Jamie Foxx), who, by the time Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) comes along, has long accepted his death sentence for the murder of an 18 year-old white woman. But by winning over Walter’s extended family, Stevenson gains Walter’s trust, along with plenty of threats from the Alabama good ol’ boys once he starts exposing the outrageous violations during Walter’s “fair trial.”

It’s clear that Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) is firmly committed to respectful accuracy in his adaptation, which is commendable. The authenticity of the roadblocks, impassioned speeches or blood-boiling examples of bigotry are never in doubt, but it’s only the ferocious talents of Jordan and Foxx that keep Just Mercy from collapsing under the weight of its own unchecked righteousness.

As sympathetic as Walter’s situation is, the script never quite sees him as a real person, painting only in shades of hero. Oscar winner Brie Larson, a Cretton favorite, is wasted as EJI co-founder Eva Ansley, who seems included more out of respect than for what the character ultimately adds to the narrative.

Jordan has the most to work with here, and – no surprise – he makes the most of it. Peripheral cases help Jordan give Stevenson the needed edges of a man who is equally driven by his failures, doggedly committed to helping those he identifies with so deeply, those who, as Walter puts it, are “guilty from the moment you’re born.”

Though it comes out swinging with heavy hands, Just Mercy steadies itself in time to become an effective portrait of systemic injustice. You will be moved, but with a force that is muted by simple convention.

Indirect Message

1917

by George Wolf

War. Maybe you’ve heard of it lately.

Taking inspiration from the past, director Sam Mendes has crafted an immaculate exercise in technical wonder, passionate vision and suddenly vital reminders.

The inherent gamble in crafting a film via one extended take – or the illusion of it – lies in the final cut existing as little more than a gimmick, spurring a ‘spot the edit’ challenge that eclipses the narrative.

1917 clears that hurdle in the first five minutes.

It is WWI, and British Corporals Blake and Schofield (Dean Charles-Chapman and George MacKay, both wonderful) are standing before their General (Colin Firth) amid the highest of stakes. Allied intelligence has revealed an imminent offensive will lead straight into a German ambush, and the corporals’ success at traveling deep into enemy territory to deliver the order to abort is all that will keep thousands of soldiers – including Blake’s own brother – from certain death.

Mendes dedicates the film to the stories told by his grandfather, and it stands thick with the humanity of bravery and sacrifice that ultimately prevailed through the most hellish of circumstances.

Blake and Schofield head out alone, enveloped by ballet-worthy camerawork and pristine cinematography (Roger Deakins, natch) that never blinks. The opportunities for edits may be evident at times, but the narrative experience is so immersive you’ll hardly care. We’re not merely following along on this mission, we’re part of every heart-stopping minute.

Anyone who’s seen the actual WW1 footage from Peter Jackson’s recent doc They Shall Not Grow Old (an irresistible bookend to 1917) will recognize a certain sanitation to the production design, but the trade-off is a fresh majesty for familiar themes, one that’s consistently grounded in stark intimacy. Mendes and Deakins (buoyed by a subtly evocative score from Thomas Newman) brush away any dangers of “first-person shooter” novelty with a near miraculous level of precise execution that succeeds in raising several bars.

1917 is absolutely one of the best films of the year, but it’s more. It’s an unforgettable and exhausting trip, immediately joining the ranks of the finest war movies ever made.

I Don’t Want to Go Out—Week of January 6

Got some stuff this week – good week to avoid the chill, pull out that ratty old throw and stay on the couch, especially if you like to watch white guys descend into madness. If you do, this is your week, brother.

Click the film title to link to the full review.

Joker

The Lighthouse (DVD)

Girl on the Third Floor (DVD)

Paradise Hills (DVD)

Trying Not to Hold One

The Grudge

by Hope Madden

Any time a film is remade, you have to ask why. Not to be cynical, but because it’s a legitimate query. Is there a compelling reason to watch this new one?

Nicolas Pesce hopes there’s reason to watch his retooling of The Grudge.

The Grudge began in 2000 with Takashi Shimizu’s Japanese horror Ju-on, which spawned three Japanese sequels and now four English language reworkings, two of which Shimizu directed himself. His 2004 version starring Sarah Michelle Geller became a tentpole of our J-horror obsession of the early 2000s.

Pesce, working with co-writer Jeff Buhler (The Midnight Meat Train—that was your first problem), pulls story ideas from across the full spate of Ju-on properties and braids them into a time-hopping horror.

Is there room for hope? There is, because Pesce landed on horror fanatics’ radars in 2016 with his incandescent feature debut, The Eyes of My Mother.  He followed this inspired piece of American gothic in 2018 with a stranger, less satisfying but utterly compelling bit of weirdness, Piercing.

And then there’s this cast: Andrea Riseborough, John Cho, Lin Shaye, Betty Gilpin, Jacki Weaver, Frankie Faison, Damian Bichir—all solid talents. You just wouldn’t necessarily know it from this movie.

Pesce’s basically created an anthology package—four stories held together by a family of especially unpleasant ghosts. But that one sentence contains two of the film’s biggest problems.

Let’s start with the ghosts. Shimizu’s haunters—Takako Fuji and Yuya Ozeki—were sweet-faced, fragile and innocent seeming. The perversion of that delicacy is one of the many reasons Shimizu’s films left such a memorable mark. Pesce’s substitute family loses that deceptive, macabre innocence.

The way the film jumps from story to story and back again undermines any tension being built, and each story is so brief and so dependent on short-hand character development (cigarettes, rosaries, ultrasounds) that you don’t care what happens to anyone.

Jacki Weaver, who seems to be in a comedy, is wildly miscast. Go-to horror regular Shaye has the only memorable scenes in the film. Riseborough, who is a chameleonic talent capable of better things, delivers a listless performance that can’t possibly shoulder so much of the film’s weight.

Jump scares are telegraphed, CGI and practical effects are unimpressive, editing is uninspired and, worst of all, the sound design lacks any of that goosebump-inducing inspiration Shimizu used to such great effect.

So, no. There was no reason to remake The Grudge.

2019 COFCA Award Winners!

The 18th Annual Columbus Film Critics Association Awards, honoring the best in film for 2019, were announced on January 2, 2020, with Parasite, Florence Pugh and Adam Driver all taking multiples awards.

The complete list of winners and runners-up:

Best Film

  1. Parasite (Gisaengchung)
  2. Knives Out
  3. 1917
  4. Little Women
  5. Marriage Story
  6. The Farewell
  7. Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood
  8. The Irishman
  9. Uncut Gems
  10. Jojo Rabbit

Best Director

  • Bong Joon-ho, Parasite (Gisaengchung)
  • Runner-up: Sam Mendes, 1917

Best Actor

  • Adam Driver, Marriage Story
  • Runner-up: Adam Sandler, Uncut Gems

Best Actress

  • Lupita Nyong’o, Us
  • Runner-up: Florence Pugh, Midsommar

Best Supporting Actor

  • Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse
  • Runner-up: Joe Pesci, The Irishman

Best Supporting Actress

  • Florence Pugh, Little Women
  • Runner-up: Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit

Best Ensemble

  • Knives Out
  • Runner-up: Parasite (Gisaengchung)

Actor of the Year (for an exemplary body of work)

  • Adam Driver (The Dead Don’t DieMarriage StoryThe Report, and Star Wars: Episode IX – The
    Rise of Skywalker)
  • Runner-up: Florence Pugh (Fighting with My FamilyLittle Women, and Midsommar)

Breakthrough Film Artist

  • Florence Pugh (Fighting with My FamilyLittle Women, and Midsommar) – (for acting)
  • Runner-up: Joe Talbot, The Last Black Man in San Francisco – (for directing, producing and
    screenwriting)

Best Cinematography

  • Roger Deakins, 1917
  • Runner-up: Jarin Blaschke, The Lighthouse

Best Film Editing

  • Bob Ducsay, Knives Out
  • Runner-up: Lee Smith, 1917

Best Adapted Screenplay

  • Greta Gerwig, Little Women
  • Runner-up: Taika Waititi, Jojo Rabbit

Best Original Screenplay

  • Bong Joon-ho and Han Jin-won, Parasite (Gisaengchung)
  • Runner-up: Rian Johnson, Knives Out

Best Score

  • Michael Abels, Us
  • Runner-up: Thomas Newman, 1917

Best Documentary

  • Apollo 11
  • Runner-up: American Factory

Best Foreign Language Film

  • Parasite (Gisaengchung)
  • Runner-up: Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu)

Best Animated Film

  • Toy Story 4
  • Runner-up: I Lost My Body (J’ai perdu mon corps)

Best Overlooked Film

  • The Last Black Man in San Francisco
  • Runner-up: Ready or Not

For the complete list of 2019 nominees, click here.

For more information about the Columbus Film Critics Association, please visit www.cofca.orgor e-mail info@cofca.org

The complete list of members and their affiliations: 

Richard Ades (Freelance); Dwayne Bailey (Bailey’s Buzz); Adam Barney (The Film Coterie); Sam Brady (I Am Sam Reviews); Logan Burd (Cinema or Cine-meh?); Kevin Carr (www.7mpictures.comFilmSchoolRejects.com); Bill Clark (www.fromthebalcony.com); Olie Coen (Archer AvenueDVD Talk); John DeSando (90.5 WCBE); Johnny DiLoretto (90.5 WCBE, PencilStorm.com); Chris Feil (FilmMixTape.comTheFilmExperience.net); Frank Gabrenya (The Columbus Dispatch); Mark Jackson (MovieManJackson.com); Brad Keefe (Columbus Alive); Kristin Dreyer Kramer (NightsAndWeekends.com, 90.5 WCBE); Adam Kuhn (Corndog Chats); Roger Legg (The Film CoterieFaith and Film); Joyce Long (Freelance); Rico Long (Freelance); Hope Madden (Columbus Underground, MaddWolf.com and WTTE-TV); Paul Markoff (Filmbound); David Medsker (Bullz-Eye.com); Lori Pearson (Kids-in-Mind.comcritics.com); Mark Pfeiffer (FilmboundReel Times: Reflections on Cinema); Melissa Starker (Freelance); George Wolf (Columbus Radio Group, MaddWolf.comColumbus Underground, and WTTE-TV); Jason Zingale (Bullz-Eye.com); Nathan Zoebl (PictureShowPundits.com).

Underseen Gems of 2019

2019 was an exceptional year in film. There were so many great movies to catch, undoubtedly some slipped by you. Here we offer a list of the best films we think you might not have seen this year in the hopes that you’re able to remedy that situation stat.

Click the film title to link to the full review.

Happy New Year!

The Art of Self Defense

Blinded by the Light

Booksmart

Brittany Runs a Marathon

The Death of Dick Long

Her Smell

Honeyland

In Fabric

Knives and Skin

The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Late Night

Long Shot

Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound

Mickey and the Bear

Missing Link

Monos

The Souvenir

Tigers Are Not Afraid

Waves

The Wind

Best Films of the Decade

The second decade of the 2000s saw remarkable leaps forward in technology, a fact that democratized filmmaking in a way we’d never seen before. Between the tech available to help low-budget filmmakers get their vision created, and the platforms available to get that product out to consumers, we saw more high-quality (and low) films than ever before. This only meant that it got tougher to convince people to get off their bums and fork over the cash to see something on the big screen, but some filmmakers answered that challenge with the visual wonder and glory.

It’s a great time to be a movie lover. Here are our 25 favorite films from 2010 – 2019.

1. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Holy shit.

To say that George Miller has stepped up his game since he left us at Thunderdome would be far too mild a statement to open with. Mad Max: Fury Road is not just superior to everything in this franchise, as well as everything else Miller has ever directed. It’s among the most exhausting, thrilling, visceral action films ever made.

Unsurprisingly, the great Tom Hardy delivers a perfect, guttural performance as the road warrior. As his reluctant partner in survival, Charlize Theron is the perfect mix of compassion and badassedness. Hardy’s a fascinating, mysterious presence, but Theron owns this film.

Fury Road amounts to a film about survival, redemption and the power of the universal blood donor. Clever, spare scripting makes room for indulgent set pieces that astonish and amaze. There’s real craftsmanship involved here – in the practical effects, the pacing, the disturbing imagery, and the performances that hold it all together – that marks not just a creative force at the top of his game, but a high water mark for summer blockbusters.

2. Toy Story 3 (2010)

It had been 11 years – time for all of us to grow up and forget about all our favorite toys. And then Pixar returned to Andy’s room in maybe the most honest and heartbreaking coming of age film every digitally created.

Andy’s leaving for college. The toys’ jobs are done. Crated to be packed away in the attic, the toys are accidentally donated to a day care center. There, they will learn the true meaning of horror.

Sequels are not supposed to surpass the quality of their predecessors, but this franchise has always been different. There is love and pathos among these toys and between the toys and the audience. Whether it was the handholding scene on the conveyor belt or Woody and Andy’s final goodbye, something in this movie got to you. If it didn’t, we’re not calling you a sociopath directly, but we do have our doubts about you.

3. 12 Years a Slave (2013)

Steve McQueen artfully and impeccably translates Solomon Northup’s memoir of illegal captivity to the screen. Northup, played with breathtaking beauty by Chiwetel Ejiofor, was a free family man in New York State, a violinist by trade, duped, drugged, shackled and sold into slavery in Louisiana. We are privy to the next 12 years of this man’s life, and while it is often brutally difficult to watch, it’s also a tale so magnificently told it must not be missed.

12 Years a Slave transcends filmmaking, ultimately become an event, one that is destined to leave a profound, lasting impression. He’s matched by Lupita Nyong’o, whose almost otherworldly performance netted her an Oscar, and Michael Fassbender in one of the most brilliantly  unsettling pieces of acting you’ll ever find.

Even the smallest role leaves a scalding impression. Whether it’s Paul Giamatti’s casual evil, Benedict Cumberbatch’s cowardly mercy, Paul Dano’s spineless rage or Adepero Oduye’s unbridled grief, there’s an emotional authenticity to the film that makes every character, no matter how brief their appearance in Northup’s odyssey, memorable.

4. Take Shelter (2011)

For years, the undeniably talented Michael Shannon’s been a bit of a “that guy.” His performance here as a man fighting a possible descent into madness may make him that guy you can’t stop thinking about.

Shannon’s blue collar family man Curtis is plagued by frightening dreams and apocalyptic visions. In telling his tale, filmmaker Jeff Nichols exhibits the patience of an artist who knows just where he is taking us and how much the journey will resonate once we get there. In one sense, the film is a modern horror story reaching the parts of our deepest fears that no maniac in a hockey mask could ever touch. More pointedly, it’s an allegory for now, a beautifully shot summation of the anxieties of our time.

5. The Tree of Life (2011)

If you don’t mind a challenge, Tree of Life offers the most personal and introspective work yet from writer/director Terrence Malick. He begins at the beginning of life itself, then in a loose, autobiographical narrative, he focuses on a Texas family in the 1950s and on the complicated relationship between young Jack (Hunter McCracken) and his domineering father (Brad Pitt) before leaping to a reflective, even spiritual present day.

Malick works on a bold vision and he’s not interested in dumbing it down. For some filmmakers, this mix of the celestial and the biographical wouldn’t work. In fact, you may be sure while watching it that The Tree of Life doesn’t work. But ultimately, it leaves you feeling a way that no lesser film could.

6. The Master (2012)

A seriously damaged WWII vet-turned-vagabond (Joaquin Phoenix, in an astonishing performance) stows away on a yacht. Its enigmatic commander (Philip Seymour Hoffman, incandescent as always) takes the boy under his wing, determined to use this vessel to prove his theories about the human mind – to himself, to the veteran, and to an increasingly hostile public.

Phoenix is a tightly coiled spring of rage and emotion, so honest and raw as to make your jaw drop. He’s flanked on all sides by impressive turns, not the least of which is Hoffman’s perfectly nuanced megalomaniac. His presence provides the counterbalance to Phoenix that allows filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson to explore core American ideas of freedom versus security, submission versus power, self-determination versus subservience. It’s a challenging but awe-inspiring film that proves Anderson the true master.

7. Selma (2014)

Ava DuVernay’s account of the civil rights marches in Selma, Alabama doesn’t flinch. You can expect the kind of respectful approach and lovely, muted frames common in historical biopics, but don’t let that lull you. This is not the run of the mill, laudable and forgettable historical art piece, and you’ll know that as you watch little girls descend a staircase within the first few minutes. Selma is a straightforward, well-crafted punch to the gut.

Working from a screenplay by first time scripter Paul Webb, DuVernay unveils the strategies, political factions, internal frictions and personal sacrifices at play in the days leading to the final march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. Yes, she simplifies some complicated issues and relationships, but she is a powerful storyteller at the top of her craft and her choices are always for the good of the film.

8. Moonlight (2016)

Saving the world is great, so is finding love, or cracking the case, funnying the bone or haunting the house. But a movie that slowly awakens you to the human experience seems a little harder to find at the local multiplex.

You can find one in Moonlight, a minor miracle of filmmaking from writer/director Barry Jenkins. With just his second feature (after 2008’s Medicine for Melancholy), Jenkins presents a journey of self-discovery in three acts, each one leading us with graceful insight toward a finale as subtle as it is powerful.

The performances are impeccable, the craftsmanship precise, the insight blinding. You will be a better human for seeing Moonlight. It is a poignant reminder that movies still have that power.

9. The Act of Killing (2012)

Surreal, perverse, curious and horrifying, The Act of Killing demands to be seen as much as any film in recent memory.

Co-director Joshua Oppenheimer met with some of the most famous death squad leaders of the 1965 overthrow of Indonesian government and made them a distasteful yet ultimately brilliant offer: would they re-enact their savagery on camera?

The result is mesmerizing, can’t-believe-what-I’m-seeing-stuff. The Act of Killing is unforgettable. It calls to mind past cruelty, an Orwellian present and an uncertain future, emerging as essential, soul-shaking viewing.

10. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (2010)

Rarely has a film transported an audience back in time as effectively as Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams. The time is 30,000 years ago and the place is France’s Chauvet Cave, home of the earliest known recorded visions in human history.

Herzog films in 3D, reminding you that the technique can be so much more than a gimmick. You feel the breadth and the depth of the cave and ogle the beautiful contours of its walls, adorned with the work of incredibly sophisticated artists. Herzog’s camera lingers as art from tens of thousands of years ago speak to you so loudly that you may find yourself holding your breath.

11. Drive (2011)

Nicolas Winding Refn washes deliberately paced scenes in neon, hangs on long pauses, and builds slow, existential dread that he punctuates on rare occasions with visceral, brutal smacks of violence.

The perfect embodiment of this trancelike atmosphere and its sudden spurts of violence, Ryan Gosling simmers quietly, a brooding, almost childlike outsider in a weird satin jacket. He’s closed off, poetic in his efficiency, until he’s drawn to the warmth and humanity of another. And others always mean complications.

The aesthetic and the framing, the sound design and score, the stillness and explosions of violence define this film as an impeccable and bizarre vision unlike anything in its gangster genre.

12. The Revenant (2015)

There’s a natural poetry to Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu’s filmmaking. The Oscar winning director seeks transcendence for his characters, finding the grace in human frailty regardless of the story unfolding. And The Revenant is quite a story.

With no more than 15 lines in English, DiCaprio manages to capture the essence of this grieving survivor brought to his most primal self. This is easily the most physical performance of his career. DiCaprio is alone for the majority of his time onscreen, and his commitment to this character guarantees that those scenes are riveting.

One year after winning the Oscar for Birdman’s intimate, internal journey, Innaritu snagged a second statuette, taking that human journey toward redemption to the out of doors with a brutally gorgeous, punishingly brilliant film.

13. Boyhood (2014)

Filmmaker Richard Linklater’s genius has always been his generosity and patience with his cast and his mastery in observing the small event. Many of his films feel as if they are moving of their own accord and he’s simply there to capture it, letting the story unveil its own meaning and truth. 

Never has he allowed this perception to define a film quite as entirely or as eloquently as he does in Boyhood. With the collaborative narrative Linklater sets a tone that is as close to reality as any film has managed. It’s both sweeping and precise, with Linklater’s deceptively loose structure strengthened by his near flawless editing and use of music to transition from one year to the next.

An effort that proves Linklater to be indefinable as an artist even as it feels like a natural evolution of his best work, Boyhood is a movie like no other.

14. Roma (2018)

A breathtaking culmination of his work to date, Roma pulls in elements and themes, visuals and curiosities from every film Alfonso Cuarón has made (including a wonderfully organic ode to the inspiration for one of his biggest), braiding them into a semi-autobiographical meditation on family life in the early 1970s.

At the film’s heart is an extended group concerning an affluent Mexico City couple (Fernando Grediaga and the scene-stealing Marina de Tavira), their four children and their two live-in servants Adela (Nancy Garcia Garcia) and Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio).

Sequence upon sequence offers a dizzying array of beauty, as foreground and background often move in glorious concert during meticulously staged extended takes that somehow feel at once experimental and restrained. The effect is of a nearly underwater variety, a profound serenity that renders any puncture, from a street parade moving blindly past the distraught woman in its path to a murder in broad daylight, that much more compelling.

15. Toy Story 4 (2019)

Though a 4th installment seemed needless if not sacreligious, the stars aligned, the talents gelled, and the history and character so beautifully articulated over a quarter century found some really fresh and very funny ideas. Toy Story 4 offers more bust-a-gut laughs than the last three combined, and while it doesn’t pack the emotional wallop of TS3 (what does?!), it hits more of those notes than you might expect.

Between Forky’s confounded sense of self and Woody’s own existential crisis, TS4 swims some heady waters. These themes are brilliantly, quietly addressed in a number of conversations about loyalty, devotion and love.

Characteristic of this franchise, the peril is thrilling, the visuals glorious, the sight gags hilarious (keep an eye on those Combat Carls), and the life lessons far more emotionally compelling than what you’ll find in most films. To its endless credit, TS4 finds new ideas to explore and fresh but organic ways to break our hearts.

16. The Witch (2015)

In set design, dialog, tension-building and performances this film creates an unseemly familial intimacy that you feel guilty for stumbling into. There is an authenticity here – and an opportunity to feel real empathy for this Puritan family – that may never have been reached in a “burn the witch” horror film before.

On the surface The Witch is an “into the woods” horror film that manages to be one part The Crucible, one part The Shining. Below that, though, is a peek into radicalization as relevant today as it would have been in the 1600s.

Beautiful, authentic and boasting spooky lines and images that are equally beautiful and haunting, it is a film – painstakingly crafted by writer/director Robert Eggers – that marks a true new visionary for the genre.

17. You Were Never Really Here (2017)

Lynne Ramsay adapts Jonathan Ames’s brisk novella into a dreamy, hypnotic fable, an in-the-moment pileup of Taxi Driver, Taken and Drive.

Together, Ramsay and lead Joaquin Phoenix ensure nearly each of the film’s 89 minutes burns with a spellbinding magnetism. While Phoenix lets you inside his character’s battered psyche just enough to want more, Ramsay’s visual storytelling is dazzling. Buoyed by purposeful editing and stylish soundtrack choices, Ramsay’s wonderfully artful camerawork (kudos to cinematographer Thomas Townend) presents a stream of contrasts: power and weakness, brutality and compassion, celebration and degradation.

18. Get Out (2017)

What took so long for a film to manifest the fears of racial inequality as smartly as does Jordan Peele’s Get Out.

Peele writes and directs a mash up of Guess Who’s Coming to DinnerRosemary’s Baby and a few other staples that should go unnamed to preserve the fun. Opening with a brilliant prologue that wraps a nice vibe of homage around the cold realities of “walking while black,” Peele uses tension, humor and a few solid frights to call out blatant prejudice, casual racism and cultural appropriation.

Peele is clearly a horror fan, and he gives knowing winks to many genre cliches (the jump scare, the dream) while anchoring his entire film in the upending of the “final girl.” This isn’t a young white coed trying to solve a mystery and save herself, it’s a young man of color, challenging the audience to enjoy the ride but understand why switching these roles in a horror film is a social critique in itself.

19. Parasite (2019)

Joon-ho Bong, as both director and co-writer, dangles multiple narrative threads, weaving them so skillfully throughout the film’s various layers that even when you can guess where they’ll intersect, the effect is no less enlightening.

Filming in an ultra-wide aspect ratio allows Bong to give his characters and themes a solid visual anchor. In single frames, he’s able to embrace the complexities of a large family dynamic while also articulating the detailed contrasts evident in the worlds of the haves and have nots.

Parasite tells us to make no plans, as a plan can only go wrong.

Ignore that, and make plans to see this brilliantly mischievous, head-swimmingly satisfying dive down the rabbit hole of space between the classes.

20. The Irishman (2019)

Scorsese’s sly delivery suggests that he’s interested in what might have happened to Hoffa, sure, but he’s more intrigued by memory, regret and revisionism in the cold glare of time. The result is sometimes surprisingly funny, with a wistful, lived-in humor that more than suits the film’s greying perspective.

Robert De Niro’s longtime partnership with Scorsese makes it even easier to view his Frank Sheeran as an extension of the director himself, taking stock of his legacy in film. Alongside career re-establishing turns from Al Pacino, embracing type, and Joe Pesci, a gem playing against type, De Niro reminds you just why he has the legacy he does.

Away from the chatter of Scorsese’s views on superhero movies or the proper role of Netflix, The Irishman stands as a testament to cinematic storytelling, and to how much power four old warhorses can still harness.

21. Django Unchained (2012)

Quentin Tarantino’s first Oscar winning screenplay since Pulp Fiction unleashed a giddy bloodbath that’s one part blaxploitation, two parts spaghetti Western, and all parts awesome. Astonishing performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Oscar winner Christoph Waltz might keep you from noticing the excellent turns from Sam Jackson, Jamie Foxx and Kerry Washington. That’s why you’ll need to see it again.

22. Dunkirk (2017)

Solid performances abound without a single genuine flaw to point out, but the real star of Dunkirk is filmmaker Christopher Nolan. He dials back the score – Hans Zimmer suggesting the constant tick of a time bomb or the incessant roar of a distant plane engine – to emphasize the urgency and peril, and generating almost unbearable tension.

Visually, Nolan’s scope is breathtaking, oscillating between the gorgeous but terrifying open air of the RAF and the claustrophobic confines of a boat’s hull, with the threat of capsize and a watery grave constant.

What the filmmaker has done with Dunkirk – and has not done with any of his previous efforts, however brilliant or flawed – is create a spare, quick and simple film that is equally epic.

23. Black Panther (2018)

Just when you’ve gotten comfortable with the satisfying superhero origin story at work, director/co-writer Ryan Coogler and a stellar ensemble start thinking much bigger. 

Coogler works with many of these basic themes found in nearly any comic book film—daddy issues, becoming who you are, serving others—but he weaves them into an astonishing look at identity, radicalization, systemic oppression, uprising and countless other urgent yet tragically timeless topics. The writing is layered and meaningful, the execution visionary.

24. The Babadook (2014)

Like a fairy tale or nursery rhyme, simplicity and a child’s logic can be all you need for terror.

Radek Ladczuk’s vivid cinematography gives scenes a properly macabre sense, the exaggerated colors, sizes, angles, and shadows evoking the living terror of a child’s imagination.

Much of what catapults The Babadook beyond similar “presence in my house” flicks is the allegorical nature of the story. There’s an almost subversive relevance to the familial tensions because of their naked honesty, and the fight with the shadowy monster as well as the film’s unusual resolution heighten tensions.

25. Young Adult (2011)

Charlize Theron is singular perfection here as a walking middle finger to the world. Director Jason Reitman and writer Diablo Cody create a world in which Theron can soar, vainglorious, damaged, vulnerable, cynical, shallow and perhaps ready for redemption.

Or is she?

Surrounded by a whip-smart cast, each of whom offering Theron opportunity for chemical spark, the Oscar winner proved that award was no fluke. Hysterically subversive and deeply human, Young Adult offers the greatest cinematic train wreck in recent memory.