“As long as you can still grab a breath, you fight. You breathe… keep breathing.”
Most human beings wake up every day and face a series of small, often seemingly meaningless uphill battles. We sit in traffic. We go to our jobs. We eat our meals. Most of us try to do our best. We spend our days surviving. Survival is the key force that unites every single one of us. No matter how large or small our battles may be, we’re all trying to get through the day and simply survive.
When we go to the movies, we look for something that will entertain us and make us feel connected. Whether it’s a conscious thought or not, we want to connect to the stories we fill our lives with. Survival is a key theme in cinema and storytelling itself, and it seemed to be a connecting thread in a great deal of the best films released in 2015. Whether surviving war, enslavement, cancer, dystopian societies, marriage or a galaxy far, far away, this year’s films explored the measures we take in order to get through all of life’s struggles. Whether it was on 16mm, 70mm or an iPhone 5s, this years crop of films proved that exciting storytelling is alive and well in an unprecedented year for film.
I’ve been making lists since I was a little kid. Even before I had a computer to write on, I hand wrote my favorite films of the year and put together my own ballot for the Oscars. Anyone who follows me on Instagram can verify my avid dedication to the list and miniature reviews. This is the first time I’ve written anything on the year in film for public consumption because this year was such an exciting year not only for film, but for television as well. This decade has already offered up it’s own slew of masterpieces and soon to be classics, but 2015 has proven to be the hardest year yet to narrow down a top ten. I’ve seen upwards of 80-something films in theaters and on demand this year and at least half of them are worthy of a top ten in any other year.
So, in all it’s subjective glory, here are my favorite films of 2015.
I had finalized my best of the year list before watching Gaspar Noé’s newest film, “Love” and honestly, I wasn’t expecting much going into it. Noé has been pretty hit or miss, with “I Stand Alone” and “Irreversible” being the only two films of his I’ve responded to. I had also heard pretty negative reactions from it’s Cannes premiere earlier in the year, but decided to give it a shot regardless.
Almost everything I had read about the film couldn’t have been further from the truth in my opinion. Walking in, I expected an exploitative, highly explicit, borderline softcore porn film from the notoriously shocking director, but what I saw instead was a severely sad film about the longing for love seen through the fragmented memories of a young man. At first, the neverending graphic sex scenes seemed monotonous, but after the first half of the film started unwinding, it became clear that Noé was using sex as a means of numbing the audience the same way the films protagonist becomes numbed to sex itself.
Using sex as a means to explore the emptiness one can feel in a relationship that becomes overly dependent on it, the film takes a detour into something much more unexpected in its final act. All the longing, all the angst of young love and the reckless decisions culminate in an ending that is powerful and maybe the most movingly human moment of the directors career.
The only tie on this list is for two films that came out of this years Sundance line-up and are both equally polarizing dissections of genre and audience endurance. Rick Alverson made his mark in 2012 with the most polarizing film of that year, “The Comedy” and this year he follows it up with the even more unsettling dark comedy “Entertainment.”
While his debut was an examination of hipster entitlement and a take down of the “man child” genre through the eyes of a sociopathic trust fund baby, his follow-up is a more subdued, challenging look into the psyche of the performer. Through a series of barren desert landscapes and a one of a kind performance from Gregg Turkington, Alverson delves into the sea of lost Americana and delivers a film that is simultaneously hypnotic and deeply depressing. On first viewing, it left me hanging more than “The Comedy” but over time, its disturbing austerity and dismal portrait of an entertainers internal crisis kept coming back to me, begging for a second viewing. It’s distinct independent cinema at it’s most frustrating and memorable and for that, it’s one of my favorites of the year.
People really hated “Nasty Baby” at Sundance. It divided audiences, more often than not leaving most of them scratching their heads and deeming Sebastian Silva’s newest feature a mishmash of genre and mood that resulted in failure.
For the first hour of “Nasty Baby,” I almost would have agreed with the consensus. The story of two wealthy gay hipsters living in gentrified Brooklyn trying to have a baby with the help of their straight friend played by Kristin Wiig could have been a recipe for a cringe-inducing, liberal fantasy. The main character played by writer/director Silva is truly a grating presence at times and often the films roams freely from scene to another, neglecting both mood and story. But something starts to happen towards the second half of the film. A point of view and a vision starts to settle in place, one that I thought wasn’t there for for the first half that suddenly felt so right and so honest that I couldn’t wait to see where the film would go.
In the films now much talked about twist, Silva takes us down a road most audiences will not be prepared for and will probably detest. Without giving anything away, I will say it’s one of the most audacious decisions I’ve seen in an American film in quite some time. It subverts the “Sundance indie” genre and becomes something much more exciting, surprising and downright shocking. In it’s brutal and honest take down of hipster disillusionment, it becomes the best queer/gentrification horror movie of the year.
Alejandro G. Iñárritu has made a name for himself for the last two decades making films about survival. Whether they’re up against the seemingly random bursts of violence we encounter in life, the prejudices of others, terminal illness, or our own egos, his characters are put through the ringer and then some. Iñárritu has been accused of reveling in his characters misery but I’ve never found it excessive or punishing for the sake of punishment. He’s as much a humanist as directors like Robert Altman and Paul Thomas Anderson, he’s just operating on an entirely different wavelength.
This year, Iñárritu has done a complete 180 from last year’s Oscar winning black comedy “Birdman” and delved head on into his most ambitious tale of survival yet. Unlike his previous efforts, “The Revenant” is quite literally about survival in the purest form. Through a poetic lens reminiscent of Malick, Iñárritu takes us on a brutal and heart-stopping journey through one mans quest for survival and revenge.
The only major downside is that the film suffers from a thinly written script and while I do think another pass or two in the editing room to take this epic down from its totally unnecessary 2 hour and 38 minute run time would have benefited the film immensely, it’s still an undeniable piece of craftsmanship and performance.
That picture above is from one of the most exhilarating, funny and genuinely heartwarming scenes of the year. In the scene, Big Dick Richie (played by Joe Manganiello) is dared to make one woman’s day any means necessary. He walks into a convenience store and performs a theatrical dance set to Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way,” using Pepsi and Doritos as his only props. The humor and energy felt in that scene can pretty much sum up most of “Magic Mike XXL.”
Stripping away (yes, pun intended) everything that bogged down Steven Soderbergh’s original “Magic Mike” film, the sequel improves upon it’s predecessor in almost every way possible. Masquerading as a road trip/buddy comedy about dudes bro’ing out on their way to an epic dance off in Myrtle Beach, “Magic Mike XXL” is really a testament to female empowerment, sexuality and being true to yourself. No one in the film is ashamed of what they do or the pleasure they take in their own job or the pleasure bestowed upon their audience. It’s refreshing and yes, downright radical in it’s portrayal of its subject matter. The last twenty minutes of the film are some of the most blissfully enjoyable twenty minutes of anything I’ve seen all year and features maybe the best use ever of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer.”
The way that “Star Wars” and “The Avengers” are event films for mass audiences, Tarantino films are event films for cinephiles. Belonging to an elite group of auteur directors like Paul Thomas Anderson, David Fincher, Wes Anderson and Christopher Nolan, Tarantino makes films that cinephiles will eagerly line up around the block for. They’ll seek it out wherever it’s playing and fork up whatever amount of money and time is needed to experience what he’s cooked up for his fans.
For his 8th film, the western/Agatha Christie inspired mystery “The Hateful Eight,” Tarantino and regular D.P. Robert Richardson decided to shoot on 70mm. When you hear the set up of eight strangers in a snowy resort for three hours, you hardly think of cinematic scope. But the way Tarantino utilizes the frame in this is unlike anything I’ve seen him do yet. While “Pulp Fiction” remains his most impressive screenplay and “Jackie Brown” is still my favorite film of his, I’d argue that “The Hateful Eight” is his most well directed film. It’s all careful set-up, typically long dialogue exchanges and colorful characters chewing on his every word. The most exciting thing he does as a filmmaker with his eighth outing is that he resists using the 70mm format for a series of beautifully epic scenery shots, he instead decides to use it to tell a story much like a three-act play.
With an ultra-wide lens capturing every moment, we’re able to observe every character at once in nearly every frame of “The Hateful Eight.” While two characters converse in the foreground, we see a series of stories unfolding in the background and it’s just glorious to witness at times. The first act suffers at times from his unwillingness to cut down his own dialogue, but the second act truly comes alive in typical Tarantino fashion. All the set-up results in a berserk second act that is gleefully violent and over-the-top, allowing his actors - specifically Jennifer Jason Leigh, Samuel L. Jackson and Walton Goggins - to chew on every nasty moment Tarantino has gifted them with.
One of my most embarrassing childhood memories was when nine year old me went to see “Men in Black” opening night with my mom. The audience applauded Will Smith in the opening titles but my childhood hero was Steven Spielberg, the producer of the film. I eagerly awaited his name to come on screen so I could clap for him. Unfortunately when his name did appear under his “executive producer” credit, I was the only person in the audience clapping. Nine year old me was mortified.
I like to think that Steven Speilberg really is one of the reasons I wanted to make movies. Growing up as a child of the 90’s, he was the Holy Grail of cinema. His films were grand, emotional and rousing spectacles. From “Jurassic Park” to “E.T.” to “Saving Private Ryan,” my early film obsessions were usually dictated by him. My teenage years turned into an angsty rejection of his classic style of cinema. I found PTA, Fincher and Tarantino and that was my new Holy Grail. Coming back into my twenties, I fell in love with his early films all over again. Yes, he’s made some flops but he’s also made not only the classics listed above, but underrated films like “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence.” He is the master of big Hollywood filmmaking.
I wasn’t bowled over by “Lincoln” like some of my other peers but it was an undeniably great piece of craftsmanship on his end. I wasn’t looking forward to “Bridge of Spies” aside from it being scripted by the Coens, but when I saw it a few months ago, it ended up being not only a welcome surprise but one of the most enjoyable experiences of the year. The film had me marveling at it from start to finish, taking in every perfectly rendered frame. The marriage of classic Speilberg and the wit of a Coen Brothers picture was a match made in heaven. The nearly wordless opening minutes are some of the most enthralling, exciting moments of Speilberg’s career. The runaway star of the show ends up being character actor and famed theater performer, Mark Rylance. His quiet, subdued performance as a Cold War spy on trial in Communist obsessed America is the supporting performance of the year and one that hopefully gives us much more of him in the future.
Sean Baker’s Sundance sensation “Tangerine” is known prominently for two things. It’s the first feature film to be shot entirely on the iPhone 5s and its two leads are unprofessionally trained, transgender actresses. Those are two narratives that have fortunately carried the film from Sundance indie to art house breakout to talked about awards film. But “Tangerine” is so much more than those two factors.
Yes, the cinematography is surprisingly crisp and cinematic and yes, it’s exciting to see two actual transgender leads and not Jared Leto or Eddie Redmayne, but “Tangerine” is also a remarkable bare bones story of two women, their relationship and the world they inhabit that is rarely captured in mainstream cinema. Like “Magic Mike XXL,” the film is a buddy comedy and a vibrant look at a world that is often rejected by mainstream culture. It’s also a fantastic and soon to be classic LA film. Trekking through the sun drenched streets of East Hollywood, we get a glimpse into the relationship of two transgender women, an Armenian cab driver and a donut shop operated by Asian-Americans.
Los Angeles is one of the most multi-cultural and sprawling cities in the world and through the lens of an iPhone 5s and three major city blocks, director Sean Baker opens a window into a world that’s right in our backyards that has been ignored for far too long. Like his 2012 San Fernando Valley-set “Starlet,” “Tangerine” is original, daring and unexpectedly moving. Operating as a screwball buddy comedy for most of it’s running time, the story comes full circle in the end and packs an emotional punch in it’s last scene that is one of the most lyrical and poignant moments I’ve seen all year.
“Remember when David O. Russell use to make David O. Russell movies?” This is almost the counterpoint to the Tarantino/Wes Anderson argument. It’s essentially “Why doesn’t this director make the movies he made 20 years ago that made me a fan?” or “Why did he evolve?” It’s strange what we ask of our favorite filmmakers. I’ve been guilty of it myself. Everybody can feel disappointment in a filmmakers decisions, but at the end of the day, it’s their artistic voice and yes, they’re free to do with it what they’d like.
On another contrary side of this, I don’t think David O. Russell ever stopped making “David O. Russell movies.” Most of his films are chaotic and messy and brimming with life and seemingly about to burst at the seems. There are underlying themes that can be found in most of his work and they continue into this new chapter of his career. With “Joy,” O. Russell has fashioned a story not unlike “The Fighter,” about a family, it’s selfishness and the moral center of it all - a put upon, ambitious young American with a dream they’ll stop at nothing to fulfill.
What’s most exciting about watching “Joy” is that it tackles subject matter in such a heightened, cinematic way that only O. Russell could have told it. The camera zooms and pulls through the chaos of young mother Joy Mangano’s home with the energy of Scorsese and the roaming curiosity of Altman, allowing us a glimpse at the hell that is her home life. A therapist’s worst nightmare for “safe boundaries,” Mangano’s home life is self-destructive, narcissistic and slowly destroying her.
Infusing the drama of 1970's soap operas and the Hollywood Golden Age of musicals, O. Russell brings a magical, fairytale-esque life to Mangano’s life story that transcends the typical biopic tropes it may have endured in another directors hands. So yes, it’s messy, it occasionally stumbles on it’s own ambitions, it’s unfocused in certain acts, but it’s always alive and it’s always shooting for the stars. It’s a David O. Russell movie and what a beautiful mess it is.
I haven’t seen the films of Spanish director Jess Franco, whom Peter Strickland’s “The Duke of Burgundy” is much indebted to, but even without understanding some of the tonal and visual references and homages, the film is still an audio/visual delight that feels heaven sent for any cinephile.
Using a potentially exploitative premise of a middle-aged woman and the games of submission and dominance she puts her young lesbian lover through, Strickland is able to mine a B-movie set up and uncover universal truths and secrets about love and how we love each other. A film that takes its time slowly undressing the audiences expectations and removing the curtain to reveal a love story that is painful and at times ugly, Strickland’s film is about the ways we settle in love and the jealousies that overwhelm us and the sacrifices we make to hold our relationships together.
A hallucinatory and immersive marriage of stunning visuals and brilliant sound design, “The Duke of Burgundy” is a wonder to behold and a film that will stay with you long after its first viewing, leaving you wanting to relive its beauty all over again.
I want to start by saying I think that every award and end of year crowning bestowed upon George Miller’s “Mad Max: Fury Road” is completely well-earned and deserving. A part of me would argue that there is no bigger cinematic accomplishment this year than “Fury Road” but on a personal level, the film exhausted me and left my head spinning, not always in the best way.
On the other hand, the film is purposefully assaulting. Not in the way other big budget spectacles like the “Transformers” and “Avengers” films are, but in a heavy metal, demolition derby kind of way. The movie is punk rock come to life. It’s the living proof that bold studio filmmaking is not dead. Not only is the film a massive technical accomplishment, it’s also a cultural accomplishment. Not only does Miller sideline the title character to Charlize Theron’s Imperator Furiosa, he manages to implement a timely, emotionally resonant theme of feminine empowerment and struggle for survival that no other mainstream film has managed to do as effectively. It’s larger than life, thoughtful, moving, exhausting and unlike anything else.
Writer/director Noah Baumbach is on a roll. Since his return to film in 2005 with “The Squid and the Whale,” the Brooklyn based filmmaker has turned in a string of near perfect films. From the acidic dark comedy “Margot at the Wedding” and the underrated L.A. based character study “Greenberg” to the much lauded coming of age comedy “Frances Ha,” Baumbach has been turning in some of the most consistently astounding work of any filmmaker working today.
This year, he returned with not one, but two fantastic films in the form of the Ben Stiller middle-age crisis comedy “While We’re Young” and the screwball delight “Mistress America.” While the former is a hilariously observed comedy, it’s the latter that truly sticks with you. Working with off-screen partner and co-writer/co-star Greta Gerwig and ace editor Jennifer Lame, Baumbach delivers one of his best films yet in “Mistress America.” The film is so breezy, so entertaining and so charming that it’s hard to keep up with the screwball energy Baumbach has on display in his ninth feature film.
From the casting of Gerwig against type and newcomer Lola Kirke as the lead to the 80's New Wave inspired score from Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, the film is one of the most purely enjoyable works of Baumbach’s career.
I’m not a “Star Wars” guy. I tried to get into them when I was a kid and outside of “Empire Strikes Back,” I just couldn’t get sucked into the world the way millions of other people on Planet Earth had. I’ve watched “The Lord of the Rings” films, all three entries in “The Matrix” series and about half of the “Harry Potter” films and I just can’t get invested in any of them. That’s not to say that any of them are bad films — well maybe the “Matrix” sequels — I just don’t connect with them emotionally.
I had fairly muted expectations for the seventh installment in the “Star Wars” franchise walking in. My main interest in seeing it was honestly the new cast J.J. Abrams had assembled. Putting up and comers Daisy Ridley and John Boyega at the center of the story and casting two of the best actors to emerge this decade — Adam Driver and Oscar Isaac — in prominent roles had peaked my undoubtedly peaked my interest. And yeah, the trailers looked great. But most trailers look great these days, especially for major studio tentpoles with upwards of half a billion dollars at stake.
There was a contagious energy in the air watching “The Force Awakens” opening night with hundreds of excited fans. Nearly every second I sat in that theater I was grinning with joy. I felt like I was a kid being initiated into a world I had longed to be a part of since I first started watching movies. The pure love and technical finesse on display here is simply astounding. The film looks better than any “Star Wars” film, it moves better than any “Star Wars” film and holy shit, in a near impossible feat, it doesn’t have a single bad performance. In fact, the acting is one of the high marks of the film — something I never thought I’d say about a “Star Wars” film. And it’s really fucking funny! Like not corny, bad “Star Wars” funny. It has genuinely well-written jokes that not only add tremendous amount of layer to the characters but also poke fun at some of the silliness of what’s on display in the previous films. It is, dare I say it, the best “Star Wars” film ever made.
The must-see film you may never want to watch again of the year is most likely Cary Joji Fukunaga’s “Beast of No Nation.” A harrowing look at children turned guerrilla soldiers during an unnamed African Civil War, the film is one of the many released this year that are unflinching depictions of hell on Earth. The film is also famous for being the first Netflix film to garner major awards contention and rightfully so. While it’s exciting to know the film will receive a much wider audience than it would have had it gone down the more traditional theatrical platform, it’s still sad to see such a cinematic and visually stunning film on a 40" inch television screen instead of experiencing it on a big screen.
The subject of much controversy upon it’s release, it’s detractors are not wrong for questioning why we need another negative representation of war-torn Africa, the film still remains an impeccably well made vision of horror. Its heart is always in the right place and the performances by newcomer Abraham Attah and Idris Elba are so unbelievably realistic, it makes for a film that is hard to stomach but impossible to turn away from.
Some films are so dedicated to their point of view and style that they deserve recognition simply for their sheer uncompromising vision. Josh & Benny Safdie are three for three now with their raw, wholly independent style after “The Pleasure of Being Robbed” and the underrated “Go Get Some Rosemary.” Their latest film is maybe their most wholly satisfying though.
Shooting on the streets of New York with real junkies and based on the real story of recovering addict Arielle Holmes, “Heaven Knows What” is the gnarliest, most fucked up movie of the year. Like “Beasts of No Nation” and “Son of Saul,” the film is a gateway straight into the depths of hell. Except instead of war and concentration camps, the hell on Earth is the insides of heroin dens and the nastiest streets of New York City. Featuring a totally committed and raw performance by Arielle Holmes and vile, lived-in performance by Caleb Landry-Jones and claustrophobic, hyper-realistic cinematography by Sean Price Williams, “Heaven Knows What” remains so true to itself that it almost takes on the feeling of a docudrama as opposed to a fictional narrative.
It’s monotonous pacing, interspersed with revolting, often violent interludes, perfectly captures the life of an addict so realistically and honestly that when it’s purposefully anti-climactic ending finally comes, it almost feels like the sickest, most sobering punchline ever.
The coming of age film is like the crime thriller, in that it’s extremely hard to mine new territory out of the genre. Every once in a while, a filmmaker comes along and does something truly daring or unique with the genre. For thrillers, Andrew Dominik nearly got there with 2012's underrated “Killing Them Softly.” For the coming of age film, “Let the Right One In” was a brilliant mishmash of vampire film and coming of age drama.
This year, first time filmmaker Marielle Heller has delivered one of the most original and daring coming of age films to emerge in quite a long time. Based on the graphic novel from the same name, Heller has made a film that is not only painfully honest, but does so without ever taking the film into grotesque, exploitative territory. Her depiction of a teenage girl who feels unattractive by societies standards and ends up having an affair with her mother’s boyfriend is refreshing in it’s portrayal of female sexuality.
The film makes the bold choice to have Minnie, the sex-obsessed protagonist in Heller’s film, be the one to initiate her affair with her mother’s boyfriend, never once trying to make the film into anything remotely about pedophilia or manipulation. It’s a teenage girl exploring her sexuality openly and making the mistakes we all make when we’re young. It’s about the confusing periods we all face when we’re young and how the need to feel sexy and to have sex at a young age can awaken us to things about ourselves we would have never otherwise discovered.
Why are critics and cinephiles so surprised when comedic actors and directors take on so-called “serious” material, as if they could only thrive in one genre? Adam Sandler’s character in “Punch-Drunk Love” is a more human, insecure and deeply felt version of the solemn men festering with anger below the surface that Sandler had popularly played in the 90’s. Robin Williams repeatedly proved himself to be not only one of the most gifted comedic actors that ever graced the screen, but one of the most gifted actors and performers, period. Jim Carrey abandoned his manic persona in “The Truman Show” and “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” to dazzling effect. All of these performers have managed well-rounded careers, always to the baffled amazement of others.
First of all, Adam McKay is a supremely talented writer and director. His comedies are not only cross-over hits across the board but they’re about something so much more than what’s on the surface. “Anchorman” is about sexism, “Step Brothers” is about American entitlement and “The Other Guys” is about fraud and corruption. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that his magnum opus was tackling the satirical look at the group of outsiders who foresaw the housing market bubble in the 2000’s. This is the film McKay has been building towards seemingly throughout his career and he directs this thing within an inch of his life. Some critics have over-used the word “messy” to describe the film, but with all due respect, they couldn’t be more wrong. This film knows exactly what it’s doing. Just because it side steps traditional storytelling, especially the kind typical in stories like this, doesn’t mean the film is messy. To call it “messy” is to be dismissive of what McKay and his team have accomplished.
Using four of the biggest movie stars in the world and a slew of celebrity cameos, operating under the guise of a broad comedy, McKay tells a story of mass corruption, greed and American ignorance. He never dumbs it down and he never dresses it up to be anything more than it is because he’s an intelligent enough filmmaker to know that the facts are frightening enough. Intelligent, vital, radical, free-form, Godardian in it’s execution and ultimately sobering, “The Big Short” is a must-see film for every American.
One of the most polarizing and talked about films of the year is undoubtedly Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy’s feature film debut, “The Tribe.” A ferociously envisioned and downright shocking Ukrainian film that is told entirely in sign language without subtitles, voice over or music. Some have criticized the film for its appalling use of violence and claiming it hinges its entire premise on a gimmick, but I found the film to be one of the most immersive and breathtakingly cinematic films of the decade. The film is not a gimmick, nor does it exist purely to shock and awe. “The Tribe” is a rare entry in modern film that dares to rewrite the cinematic language. It uses silence and ambient sounds to profound effect, asking the audience to watch every moment, every gesture, every act of violence and dare to look away. It demands your attention and is the much needed kick in the teeth for the A.D.D. generation.
It’s about the universal languages that unite us all, regardless of class, race, religion or sexuality. It’s about being ruled by fear, manipulation, jealousy and the need to be accepted. We watch the film like the characters in the film: struggling to put the pieces together, feeling isolated from the world we’re asked to participate in, longing to understand and connect. By the end, the world we’re given is one that is so unforgiving, so cruel, that it leaves us reeling. There are plenty of stories about overcoming the injustices of the world or finding a light at the end of the tunnel. “The Tribe” is not one of those films. It’s a full blown nightmare come to life, highlighting the atrocities and barbaric nature in which humans can treat one another. It’s a sensory experience like no other and a film that, regardless if you love it or hate it, you’re not likely to ever forget.
It’s sad that most films released in the first half of the year get lost in a sea of late entry awards contenders and festival breakouts, because sometimes you get a special treat like Alex Garland’s “Ex Machina.” Released in April by prolific wunderkind distributor A24, the film received critical acclaim and proved to be an indie breakout at the box office, but seems to have been all nearly forgotten.
Garland’s directorial debut is a testament to big ideas told in a fairly straight forward and cost effective way. Utilizing a single — albeit absolutely stunning — location with three actors for a majority of it’s running time, “Ex Machina” is an ode to classic sci-fi while reinventing the now tired artificial intelligence story, lending it a feminist angle in it’s man vs. machine plot. It’s tightly wound storytelling and a welcome surprise in a time of bloated, sci-fi or action epics. The film itself functions alone as a straight forward genre piece but is aided immeasurably by a pitch black sense of humor and the most spontaneous and unforgettable dance sequence in recent memory.
Yorgos Lanthimos’ 2009 debut “Dogtooth” announced the arrival of a truly unique and unconventional voice. Hailing from Greece, Lanthimos helped usher in the Greek New Wave of cinema that seemed to specialize in deadpan comedy the way the Romanian New Wave specialized in cold, clinical dramas. Lanthimos felt like a successor to Charlie Kaufman in terms of brilliance and originality, sans the self-loathing and narcissistic braininess.
His follow-up “Alps” was another brilliant set-up that fell slightly short of its ambitions, but his newest outing and first English-language feature, “The Lobster” is a return to form that stands alongside “Dogtooth” as a true original. A deadpan dystopian delight imbued with an emotional depth not yet seen in his work, “The Lobster” is Lanthimos’ most wholly satisfying, accessible and deeply felt work to date. A film about society’s expectations of us and the anxieties of wanting to feel loved, “The Lobster” is a bracing send-up of the online dating generation where everybody wants to connect immediately, one common interest at a time.
It also features the best performance Colin Farrell has turned in, maybe ever. After being dragged through the punishing world of Nic Pizzolato’s now infamous season 2 of “True Detective,” it’s a pleasure to watch Farrell enjoy himself and act against type in what is most definitely his finest comedic work to date. Seek this one out when it finally gets a U.S. release next year.
Going into Josh Mond’s debut, “James White,” I knew I would be a more biased viewer than some others. After losing my mother to cancer in 2012, a film about an unbalanced young man coming of age through his mothers battle with cancer, was more than enough to hit close to home.
Watching the film unfold, I was constantly reminded of my own experiences while also feeling wholeheartedly for the protagonist. James is a selfish, drug-abusing, hard-drinking, entitled writer who’s only grounded to the world by his unwavering dedication to his mother. Grappling with the death of his estranged father, James is thrust into a whole new battle when his mothers cancer reemerges and her life begins to deteriorate before his eyes.
Partly autobiographical and scarily relatable for anybody who has ever experienced the loss of a parent, “James White” is the most heart-wrenching, realistic depiction of grief I’ve seen on screen in a long time. With the aid of a career-making performance from “Girls” alum Christopher Abbott and the never better Cynthia Nixon, Mond delivers an achingly painful and soul-bearing debut that offers no false hope and no maudlin uplifting moments that so often plague similar films.
In the film’s finest sequence, James holds his dying mother on a bathroom floor, telling her about the life he’ll lead that they both know she’ll never see. It’s one of the most finely directed, gut-wrenching scenes I’ve ever seen. It’s a beautiful marriage of performance, direction, cinematography and use of music that doesn’t pander to audience manipulation. The film shows a flawed young man on the brink of real adulthood, clinging to those around him for moral support, who is forced to change the course of his life in the wake of a tragedy. It’s a knockout film and one that hopefully finds audiences for years to come.
“Room” is a film that comes around every once in a while and just floors you with it’s bracing use of the cinematic language. It grabs you from it’s first frame and immerses you in its world for two emotionally charged hours. It’s a film that, like “James White,” delves into very heavy and potentially emotionally manipulative territory, but like the former it is never bleak and it’s utterly full of life.
Telling the story of a young woman kidnapped at 17 and held in a small shed for 7 years in captivity, who along the way gives birth to a young boy, “Room” is the most life-affirming and beautifully observed film I’ve seen all year. It’s a film that could have never been about a father and son as it’s unmistakably about the bond that a mother and son share and the limitless bounds that a mother will go to to protect her child. It’s about seeing the world through fresh eyes and discovering the beauty and wonder all around us in the wake of a traumatic and life-altering experience.
The film also provides one of the most underrated actresses working today with a once in a lifetime role. Brie Larson has been quietly turning in fantastic work for almost a decade now and like the overlooked 2013 film “Short Term 12,” “Room” provides Larson with a chance to really shine and show that she’s the best young actress in Hollywood.
Director Tom McCarthy managed to do something this year that no other director has accomplished, maybe ever. He was the director behind what has been hailed as the worst film of the year, the Adam Sandler vehicle “The Cobbler” and the best film of the year, the true story of the Boston Globe’s journey to uncover the biggest scandal in the history of the Catholic Church, “Spotlight.” I’ve personally never responded to much of McCarthy’s work as a director, “The Station Agent” being the standout of his career up until now, but “Spotlight” fires on all cylinders and is what I would call, a perfect movie.
Joining the ranks the ranks of classic films about journalism and obsession like “All the President’s Men,” “Network,” “Zodiac” and “The Insider,” it’s confidently directed and brilliantly acted without a false note throughout its 2 hour running time. Its brilliant ensemble and pitch perfect screenplay are most definitely the highlights, but one of the most surprising and sharp aspects of the film is that it never lays blame on one villain. The Catholic Church is just as much to blame as journalism, society and the city of Boston itself.
We live in a world where corruption and criminality go unpunished, but most of us would rather ignore the harsh realities than pursue them. “Spotlight” is about the people that didn’t choose to look the other way. While other films have resonated in deeper and more effecting ways with me this year, no other film has managed the sheer perfection that is “Spotlight.”
I remember growing up reading the Calendar section in the LA Times, I would always see the headline “A white-knuckle thrill ride” at the top of ad’s for action films. I never really knew what it meant but it always sounded incredibly cool, especially to a young boy raised on the Jerry Bruckheimer action catalog of the 90’s. I can finally use that quote knowingly and accurately in describing Denis Villeneuve’s thriller “Sicario.” This movie is a beast and it’s the best of it’s kind in quite some time.
This film moved up and down my top 10 the most of any other film. There were days where it would place somewhere below my top five and sometimes peak right at number five, but there was something about it I couldn’t shake. I kept playing back specific scenes in my head, getting excited to watch them all over again. I would talk to other friends and cinephiles about the film and we would all gush over the set pieces and cinematography. It was a movie I just couldn’t get off my mind.
What the film has undeniably proven is that Denis Villeneuve is the real deal. Out of any of the emerging talents and auteurs of this generation, Villenueve is for my money, the most exciting of the bunch. His 2013 kidnapping thriller “Prisoners” is beyond underrated and another film that’s impossible to shake. He followed that up almost immediately with the Jake Gyllenhaal existential thriller “Enemy” and in both films showed a knack for slow building dread and tension.
But “Sicario” is his masterpiece. This movie is, to be frank, fucking bad-ass. It’s top-notch genre filmmaking, racketing up tension in nearly every frame, grabbing the audience by the throat and holding them in his grasp for it’s entirety. Aided immensely by Roger Deakins’ pitch perfect cinematography, Jóhann Jóhannsson’s atmospheric score and the tour-de-force trifecta of Emily Blunt, Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro, Villeneuve’s thriller is the embodiment of a white knuckle thrill ride. It’s a treat for genre seekers, average moviegoers and cinephiles and one that I wouldn’t be surprised to see earn “classic” status in years to come.
Throughout my time working at the art house theatre, Laemmle’s Town Center 5, there were countless “untold stories of World War II” released. It’s been the focus of more war films than any other war in history. In 2015, I would have never thought that the best directorial effort would come from a first time Hungarian filmmaker making a Holocaust film.
What separates “Son of Saul” from the rest of the pack is it’s relentlessly singular focus on one man to tell the story of millions. Director László Nemes and cinematographer Mátyás Erdély keep the camera focused solely on the title character, played brilliantly by first time actor Géza Röhrig for almost the entirety of the run time. Telling the story of an Auschwitz prisoner forced to burn the bodies of fellow prisoners who searches endlessly for a Rabbi to help him bury the body of a young boy, “Son of Saul” uses Röhrig’s numbness and a horrifying sound design to powerful effect.
It’s not an easy film to sit through and often times, you may find yourself looking for the exit purely to escape the hell that Nemes hurls the audience into, but it’s masterful filmmaking of the highest order. This is confident, harrowing and haunting cinema and without a doubt, one of the most unforgettable experiences you’ll have all year.
Until recently, I had no idea how underrated and criminally overlooked Todd Haynes is. I had only seen “I’m Not There” and while I didn’t love it, I knew there was clearly something special going on behind the camera. But after seeing “Carol” at AFI this year, I felt the need to go back and check out his other works. After watching his 1995 Julianne Moore drama “Safe” and his 2002 Douglas Sirk homage “Far From Heaven,” I can safely say he is one of the best directors of our time.
“Carol” is a film that is so warm and fully realized that you find yourself wanting to climb inside the image and live in it. I knew it was a beautiful film upon first viewing but it continued to replay in my mind, demanding multiple viewings, not because I felt I had missed something but because I couldn’t wait to relive each tenderly and gorgeously executed scene again.
The film is achingly beautiful, meticulously crafted, stunningly performed and simply intoxicating. Every detail and nuance in the film is sheer perfection. From the impeccable set design to the gorgeous 16MM cinematography by Edward Lachman and most of all, two of the most subtly powerful and heartbreaking performances of the year from Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara, “Carol” is a film to be cherished.
Can you ever really, truly know someone? Many writers have asked the question but few as remarkably as Andrew Haigh does in his film “45 Years.” Telling the story of a couple on the eve of their 45th anniversary who receive some unsettling news in the form of the husband’s ex-lover, whose body has been found nearly 50 years after her death, “45 Years” is a masterpiece of mood and silence.
Building on a simple premise, Haigh probes the depths of relationships with a skill that is downright enviable. He asks us to look deeply at the people we share our lives with. How can you ever really know your husband or your wife? How can we really ever know ourselves? Life is an ongoing process of learning and understanding. We seek the obvious answers but how often do we look beneath the surface at the truths that are too hard to face?
“45 Years” is a film that is rarely made and rarely executed as well as it is in Haigh’s hands. It’s a film that could only be serviced by two screen veterans like Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay. Like Todd Haynes’ “Carol,” the film tells so much of the story through the quiet glances we steal at one another, the silences we endure and the things we’re too afraid to say. The film takes on the mood of a haunted house film, two people wandering through a life they’ve built together, discovering truths and asking each other painful questions that most couples have ever asked one another.
It’s scarier than any horror film this year because its disturbing and quietly explosive moments linger with us for so long after the film is over. Through the examination of one marriage and one secret, the film unleashes a flurry of despairing thoughts about ones own life, asking us to question ourselves and the reasons we fall in love. Haigh handles the material so adeptly that by the time we get to the bone chilling final moment, we don’t even realize the quiet storm he’s built up or the spell he’s cast on us. It’s absolutely stunning work and the crowning achievement of a landmark year in cinema.
And the next 25 in alphabetical order:
“Blackhat,” Michael Mann
“Brooklyn,” John Crowley
“Cartel Land,” Matthew Heineman
“Clouds of Sils Maria,” Olivier Assayas
“Creed,” Ryan Coogler
“Dheepan,” Jacques Audiard
“Digging for Fire,” Joe Swanberg
“The End of the Tour,” James Ponsoldt
“The Gift,” Joel Edgerton
“Inside Out,” Pete Docter
“Junun,” Paul Thomas Anderson
“Listen to Me Marlon,” Stevan Riley
“The Look of Silence,” Joshua Oppenheimer
“Love & Mercy,” Bill Pohlad
“The Martian,” Ridley Scott
“Mission: Impossible — Rogue Nation,” Christopher McQuarrie
The ending of “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl,” Alfonso Gomez-Rejon
“Mustang,” Deniz Gamze Ergüven
“The Stanford Prison Experiment,” Kyle Patrick Alvarez
“Steve Jobs,” Danny Boyle
“Victoria,” Sebastian Schipper
“While We’re Young,” Noah Baumbach
“Wild Tales,” Damián Szifron
“The Wolfpack,” Crystal Moselle
“Youth,” Paolo Sorrentino
Best Director
Todd Haynes, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Andrew Haigh, “45 Years”
Best Actor
Christopher Abbott, “James White”
Runner-Up: Géza Röhrig, “Son of Saul”
Best Actress
[For a refreshing change, there were so many amazing lead female performances to choose from this year that I just want to tie them all.]
Cate Blanchett, “Carol”
Emily Blunt, “Sicario”
Laia Costa, “Victoria”
Charlotte Gainsbourg, “45 Years”
Nina Hoss, “Phoenix”
Brie Larson, “Room”
Jennifer Lawrence, “Joy”
Bell Powley, “The Diary of a Teenage Girl”
Saorise Ronan, “Brooklyn”
Charlize Theron, “Mad Max: Fury Road”
Best Supporting Actor
Mark Rylance, Bridge of Spies”
Runner-Up: Benicio Del Toro, “Sicario”
Best Supporting Actress
Rooney Mara, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Jennifer Jason Leigh, “The Hateful Eight” & Cynthia Nixon, “James White”
Best Ensemble Cast
“Spotlight”
Runner-Up: “The Big Short”
Best Foreign-Language Film
“Son of Saul,” László Nemes
Runner-Up: “The Tribe”, Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy
Best Documentary Feature Film
“The Look of Silence,” Joshua Oppenheimer
Runner-Up: “Listen To Me Marlon,” Stevan Riley
Best First Film
“Son of Saul”, László Nemes
Runner-Up: “Ex Machina,” Alex Garland & “James White,” Josh Mond
Best Original Screenplay
Tom McCarthy & Josh Singer, “Spotlight”
Runner-Up: Yorgos Lanthimos, “The Lobster”
Best Adapted Screenplay
Phyllis Nagy, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Marielle Heller, “The Diary of a Teenage Girl”
Best Original Score
Bryce Dessner, Carsten Nicolai & Ryuichi Sakamato, “The Revenant”
Runner-Up: Dan Romer, “Beasts of No Nation”
Best Cinematography
Ed Lachman, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Emmanuel Lubezki, “The Revenant”
Best Film Editing
Joe Walker, “Sicario”
Runner-Up: Hank Corwin, “The Big Short”
Best Art Direction
Judy Becker & Lara Rosenthal, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Colin Gibson, “Mad Max: Fury Road”
Best Costume Design
Sandy Powell, “Carol”
Runner-Up: Courtney Hoffman, “The Hateful Eight”
Best Sound Editing
“Mad Max: Fury Road”
Best Sound Mixing
“Son of Saul”
Best Visual Effects
“Star Wars: The Force Awakens”
Overrated: “It Follows,” David Robert Mitchell
Underrated: “Magic Mike XXL,” Gregory Jacobs
Movie That’s Not As Bad As They Say: “By the Sea,” Angelina Jolie Pitt
The Worst Films of 2015
“Mojave,” William Monahan
“True Story,” Rupert Goold
“Trainwreck,” Judd Apatow
“Chi-Raq,” Spike Lee
For the first time, instead of being the uproarious sidekick or broad comedic relief, Aziz Ansari gets to play a fully fleshed out human being. Playing a version of himself much like Louis CK’s version of himself on the similarly experimental, New York based comedy “Louie,” Ansari is able to explore depths of his own persona through a semi-fictional lens in a show that was the most unexpected surprise of the year. Not only does the show look great, especially for a low budget comedic series, but it’s observant and unafraid to tackle real issues like the presence of Indians and Asians in pop culture entertainment.
Ansari puts himself front and center, not only because he’s at a point in his career where he’s allowed to make something personal, but because nobody else is probably itching to do so — at least in the way he does on “Master of None.” It’s rare than an Indian or Asian actor is cast as the romantic lead or the lead in general and it’s sad that it has to feel as innovative as it does on his series.
Besides looking great and being topical, the show has a phenomenal soundtrack and maybe the best modern use of John Carpenter’s “Halloween” score. It also tackles the difficulties of young relationships in a pitch-perfect episode entitled “Mornings,” a bottle episode that shows the span of a relationship over the course of a year in a 30 minute time span. It’s one of the best television episodes of the year and hopefully a positive sign of what’s to come from Ansari in future seasons.
Essential Episode: “Mornings,” Eric Wareheim
“My name’s Leonard. I don’t know if there’s anything that complicated about me. Which is why I should be happier I guess. It’s good for him, he’s interesting. but I’ve never been interesting to anybody. I work in an office, people walk right by me and I know they don’t see me. Then I go home and I watch my wife and my kids — they don’t look up when I sit down. It’s like no one cares that I’m gone. They should love me, maybe they do, but, I don’t even know what it is. You spend your whole life thinking you’re not getting it, people aren’t giving it to you. Then you realize they’re trying, and you don’t even know what IT is. I had a dream I was on a shelf in the refrigerator. Someone closes the door and the light goes off, and I know everybody’s out there eating. And then they open the door, and you see them smiling. They’re happy to see you. But maybe they don’t look right at you, and maybe they don’t pick you. Then the door closes again. The light goes off.”
This is the best moment of television in 2015. The final season — inexplicably cut into two — may not have been the best season or the worst season, but it truly was the end of an era. Along with “Breaking Bad,” it helped usher in a new golden age of television and put AMC on the map. It had the best writing on TV and when it offered up moments like the monologue above, it floored you. “Mad Men” can now join the echelon of “The Sopranos,” “The Wire” and “Six Feet Under” as one of the finest achievements in television history. Just like that perfect HBO golden-era trifecta, “Mad Men” is not just a great TV show, it’s a great piece of art.
Essential Episode: “Person to Person,” Matthew Weiner
Mark & Jay Duplass have an unbelievably gifted knack for finding drama and wonder in the most mundane of stories. In all of their films, they’ve been able to find deliver unexpectedly poignant moments and characters in otherwise familiar stories. They’re something special in the comedic and independent landscape as they have a voice that is undeniably sensed in everything they touch.
For their first major foray into television, the brothers continue their winning streak, delivering something that is realistic and totally relatable. Each episode of “Togetherness” is brisk, well-written and extremely well acted, but in typical Duplass fashion, its the unexpected dramatic moments that are the most memorable. From a cringe-inducing forced date night at a hotel to a hallucinogenic-induced confession at a children’s birthday party, the show cuts deep in its depiction of a married couple on the verge of a crisis without ever slipping into “Closer” mode.
It’s nothing new for fans of the Duplass Brothers but a much welcome entry into the prolific brothers’ ever-growing canon of deeply felt, humanist dramedies.
Essential Episode: “Party Time,” Mark & Jay Duplass
The first season of “The Knick” was one that caught pretty much everybody by surprise. Nobody had really seen a show look like that before. When you watch each scene, it’s almost like director Steven Soderbergh walked into the room and said “Where’s the least likely place they’ll expect me to put the camera?” Wides are often bird’s eye view, voyeuristically dropping in on scenes and often times scenes will be shot entirely in one take from afar. What Soderbergh is achieving with lighting, technique and movement on this show is nothing less than groundbreaking in the television medium. He is the case for auteur television.
The only downside of this season was that the storylines were never able to quite keep up with Soderbergh’s vision. Some of the B-plot felt aimless and a subplot involving a health inspectors death was uninvolving and forgettable. The first half of the season was first rate as usual but its second half became somewhat pedestrian and its finale was as frustrating as it was impressive. Characters began to do things that felt disingenuous and suspect and if a major twist stands to be true, I can’t quite see where the show plans on going in future seasons.
But on the positive side, Clive Owen continues to do superb work as Dr. Thatcher, one of the most ingenuously watchable characters to emerge in quite some time. In fact, he’s so good that often you wish the show would focus almost entirely on him. That’s not to say anything negative of the supporting cast, who are all getting better and better as the series goes on, particularly Andre Holland and Eve Hewson.
Not only commendable for being a visual feast, but also for never shying away from some of the darkest chapters in American history, “The Knick” is always wholly watchable even when its subplots can’t hold up. It’s depiction of systematic racism and sexism in turn of the century New York are ugly and terrifying, just as they should be.
Essential Episode: “Williams and Walker,” Steven Soderbergh
I would have never expected USA, the network mostly known for its broad procedurals and shows like “Psyche” and “Burn Notice,” to deliver one of the most cinematically wondrous and visually vibrant shows to ever air on television. The show is so out of left field for the network, I was continuously questioning how this could have happened. It felt like an elaborate prank at times. An anti-capitalist, anti-corporate, “Fight Club”-esque descent into the world of hacking and depression was on USA and it was creatively kicking almost every other shows on TV’s ass.
Creator Sam Esmail’s vision is clearly influenced by filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick and most obviously, David Fincher, but it always feels fresh and unique, especially in the television landscape. Each episode is better than the last, always taking bold strides in its storytelling and visual language, “Mr. Robot” felt like the best 10 hour film released all year. The cold openings rivaled the best of “Breaking Bad” and the musical choices were some of the best on TV, rivaling only “The Leftovers” and “Master of None” for TV soundtrack of the year.
But all the visual panache aside, the real MVP of the show was its lead performance by Rami Malek. His constantly shifting, sleep deprived gaze always watching, always on the lookout, lends the show an electrifying energy that keeps it pulsating from moment to moment. He manages to hit nearly every scene out of the park but when it finally comes down to a beautifully written monologue towards the end of the season, he truly shines. He shows his hacker character to be more than just a Palahniuk-influenced outsider. He’s lonely, he’s terrified and he wants to connect just like the rest of the world he so desperately tries to avoid. It’s an absorbing cyber-thriller, a darkly funny look at capitalism and an enthralling character study seen through the eyes of a jaded, medicated young man battling himself and the world around him.
Essential Episode: “eps1.5br4ve-trave1er.asf,” Jim McKay
In the late 2000’s, a co-worker and friend at the theater I worked at introduced me to David Simon’s “The Wire.” I had bared witness to enough conversations and intense arguments dissecting the seemingly endless layers of storytelling and characterization that Simon had created and I wanted to see it for myself. Two weeks later, I had finished every season and was finding myself immersed in these passionate discussions. Anytime you meet a “Wire” fan, there is no doubt that you are about to enter into a minimum of a 30 minute discussion of your favorite characters, season and moments. It’s a show that changed the way I looked at storytelling, the television medium and would have me asking myself to this day on a regular basis, “How the fuck do you make something that good?”
In the dog days of August, while most studios were dumping their late summer entries at the cineplex, HBO was wrapping up it’s now infamous second season of “True Detective” and in it’s place came David Simon’s three night mini series event, “Show Me A Hero.” To my surprise, nobody was watching it. This was David Simon’s return to HBO, starring the most exciting new actor of his generation, about a moment in history that echoes the world we live in today, yet nobody seemed to be tuning in. For shame, because “Show Me A Hero” is a richly detailed, multi-layered story of politics, society and gentrification.
Like most of Simon’s work, it’s simply a joy to watch him work, juggling multiple stories at once without the narrative ever becoming over-stuffed or confusing. He effortlessly interweaves almost a dozen different storylines over the course of it’s six episodes and presents a story that is scarily relevant.
While the miniseries is filled with a fantastic ensemble including Catherine Keener, Winona Ryder and scene-chewing Alfred Molina, it’s Oscar Isaac’s portrayal of Yonkers Mayor Nick Wasicko that is the beating heart of the show. Isaac’s Wasicko is a deeply insecure and troubled politician who just wants to be accepted and and involved in the political scene, even when he’s failing miserably. His last episode arc is painful to watch and in one particularly devastating scene in his brother’s attic, Isaac does maybe the best work of his career, breaking his characters surface-level charisma and showing us a vulnerability and deep-seated depression that is truly unforgettable.
Essential Episodes: “Night 3,” Paul Haggis
Sitting down to watch Netflix’s true crime docudrama “Making a Murderer” is a chore. Not because the show is bad, in fact, it’s probably the best of it’s kind in a long time. It’s a chore because you sit down and you can become so enveloped in the story of government corruption and the failures of the criminal justice system that you might give yourself an anxiety attack. It’s frustrating and emotionally draining to watch wrongfully convicted Steven Avery dragged through shit for the majority of his adult life.
Being submerged into the world of Manitowoc, Wisconsin for the 10 part series is like time traveling into another world. A world where justice, humanity and basic common sense have been completely thrown out the window. It’s as if you’ve entered the Twilight Zone itself when you watch every day human beings react to what’s happening around them. You watch the criminal justice system fail yet again — nothing surprising here — and then you watch average American citizens blindly ignore substantial evidence and logic to fulfill their own narratives.
Coming on the heels of HBO’s true crime saga “The Jinx” and the mega-sensation podcast “Serial,” “Making a Murderer” was bound to capture the cultural zeitgeist and honestly, I couldn’t be happier for something to catch on. Where “The Jinx” served as a more sensational true crime story and “Serial” was built purely on a week by week mystery that became more and more hollow as it went along, “Making a Murderer” is presented as a cold and sobering story of many lives destroyed. The life of Teresa Halbach and the lives of Steven Avery and Brendan Dassey. This is a story that should be told and that should be heard around the country.
It’s a show about the mass-manipulation of a corrupt sherrif’s department and criminal justice system, preying on a family that with below average IQ’s and living in poor conditions and the failures of society itself. It shows a system that is beyond broken, that will stop at nothing to prove their own narrative and is so devoid of humanity that it will destroy the lives of anybody in its path who they deem disposable. In a show of relentlessly frightening omissions of truth, it’s the simple things that cut the deepest. Whether it’s Brendan Dassey telling his mother he can’t fight back because he’s too “stupid” or Steven Avery telling his father “Poor people always lose,” those are the moments that are the most gut-wrenching and devastating. Two simple human beings whose lives are utterly destroyed simply for being poor, uneducated and existing.
Essential Episode: Every. Fucking. Minute.
When it was first announced, FX’s “Fargo” mini-series sounded like the most unnecessary television reboot yet. While others have been middle of the road, often mainstream crowd-pleasers getting the reboot treatment, “Fargo” was not only a classic, but maybe the finest and most well-regarded Coen Brothers film. Season one started off a bit shaky, seemingly just a showcase for fine actors with funny accents doing dark things, but by the mid-point it had quickly become must watch television. Something switched by the fourth episode in and the show fortunately started to find its own voice and became a darkly comic thriller that constantly surprised and always looked nothing less than spectacular.
Season 2 of “Fargo” is a completely different case altogether. While the first season stumbled out the gate, season 2 came out the gates blazing with a confidence to match. It gave us an entire new crop of characters, sent us back in time to 1979 and completely shed itself of the 1996 Coen Brothers classic, becoming a beast all of it’s own. In it’s second season, “Fargo” became the prestige, cinematic television that so many other series long to be. Most television directors step into an ongoing series and there’s not always much work to do. The actors know their parts, the writers run the show and the look is already well thought out and in motion. “Fargo” has rebuilt its universe and its themes this season and added a technical flair that was evident in season one but is now fully realized.
The entire ensemble is a dream with Jean Smart, Jesse Plemmons, Kirsten Dunst and more doing some of the best work of their careers. While Dunst has been getting a fair share of the recognition so far and she is doing superb work, for me the show belongs to Patrick Wilson and Bokeem Woodbine. Wilson is one of the hardest working, most underrated actors in the business and his work this season is flawless. The moral compass in a changing world, up against two criminal enterprises and a wife sick with cancer, trying to make sense of the insanity around him, Wilson is the heart and brain of the show and he aces every moment.
Equally matching him but in a more supporting role, Bokeem Woodbine is simply the surprise of the year performance wise. Quietly working for over twenty years in film and television, popping up mostly in TV guest spots and 90’s action films, Woodbine is doing something truly special here. Cast against type and savoring every moment of his screen time, Woodbine is the most utterly watchable television performance of the year. He’s the unexpected MVP of an already mesmerizing piece of television and I truly hope to see more of him in any capacity after this brilliant turn.
Essential Episode: “Rhinoceros”, Jeffrey Reiner
My good friend and fellow writer, Tiffany Barrett, introduced a term to me a couple of years ago that has stayed with me and is commonly referenced between us. It’s called “bubble bath.” It’s a term she uses when describing a person that is more sensitive than others. Someone who can’t seem to take on the many waves of emotions we as human beings face every day. If you feel too much, you’re a bubble bather.
The television series equivalent of a bubble bather is Jill Solloway’s breakout series, “Transparent.” Following the increasingly self-involved Pfefferman family as they navigate life’s endless roads of discovery, every episode of Soloway’s series is so deeply felt and painfully observed that it’s nearly impossible to not see ourselves, for better or worst, in all of her characters.
This season managed to not only build on the brilliance of its landmark first season, but was able to introduce an ambitious subplot that tied back to 1931 Berlin without ever feeling sloppy or mishandled. It’s the boldest device any TV show attempted this year outside of anything on “The Leftovers” and it’s as wonderfully nuanced and emotionally fulfilling as anything else the show has presented. For a show that’s major theme is identity, introducing the past element was an ingenious move on Solloway’s part and helped illuminate the series core themes wonderfully. The show was able to cover so many bases this season while giving the rest of the cast a chance to shine and rarely missed a beat.
“Transparent” is a show that can you have cringing, laughing hysterically, moved beyond words, on the verge of tears and always thinking and looking within yourself. The use of Alice Boman’s powerful “Waiting” at the end of season highlight “Man on the Land” is one of the most genuinely sublime moments of television I’ve ever witnessed. It’s the most emotionally fulfilling thing you’re likely to experience on TV and it’s also the most important.
Essential Episode: “Man on the Land,” Jill Soloway
There is nothing more bold, more exciting, more powerful, more sweeping or just fucking absolutely insane on television as “The Leftovers.” What a goddamn great show. I could talk forever about the pure genius and audacity of season two of HBO’s least watched, most divisive series. While this year brought back last year’s MVP “The Knick” and FX’s never better “Fargo”, this year belonged to “The Leftovers.” It’s about everything and everyone and when it stumbles, you never hold judgement for too long because no other show has it’s ambitions as sky high as this series.
The first season was largely hit or miss, containing the usual Damon Lindeloff ambiguities and seemingly purposeful baffling moments, but this season revamped, regrouped and came back swinging. It opened the season on a wordless 10 minute sequence set in the Cave Man era that was straight out of a Terrence Malick film. It then flashed forward to modern day Jardon, Texas where it spent the entire rest of the episode almost wholly focused on a family we’ve never met before. The following episodes jumped around in time, character to character, theme to theme and it never once felt messy. It was always confidently charging ahead with its big ideas, never once pausing for a breath.
“The Leftovers” is a show that’s completely of the moment and timeless. It’s about grief, reincarnation, culture, domestic terrorism, faith, dreams and so much more. It’s also about whatever you want to take away from it. It’s open-ended and emotionally all encompassing. For me, it’s about grief and wanting answers and searching endlessly for them. It’s about human beings grasping so hard for life’s endless mysteries, trying to understand how they fit into the grand scheme of things. It’s about human nature in all it’s ugliness and all it’s virtuous beauty. People coming together, tearing each other apart. Families divided and reuniting. And in the end, it’s about forgiveness. Forgiving each other for the pain we’ve brought on one another, for the mistakes we’ve made, for the different roads we’ve gone down in the face of grief.
It takes us into the harsh realities we often push away, into our most haunting dreams and quite literally into alternate realities where we have to overcome our worst enemies and our own inner demons, in order to live the life we deserve. It’s the show of the year and the new face of where television is going.
Essential Episode: “International Assassin,” Craig Zobel
Honorable Mentions
“Bojack Horseman,” Netflix
“Daredevil,” Netflix
“The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst,” HBO
“Louie,” FX
“Project Greenlight,” HBO
“Silicon Valley,” HBO
Most Disappointing: “Game of Thrones” and “True Detective,” HBO
Note: I am not caught up on “Hannibal,” “The Americans” or “You’re the Worst.”
