The Favourite
The 25 Best Films of 2018
1. The Favourite
2. Roma
3. Mandy
4. You Were Never Really Here
5. If Beale Street Could Talk
6. Hereditary
7. Suspiria
8. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
9. Annihilation
10. Lazzaro Felice (Happy as Lazzaro)
11. First Reformed
12. BlacKkKlansman
13. Blindspotting
14. Leave No Trace
15. Madeline’s Madeline
16. Minding the Gap
17. Sorry to Bother You
18. The Other Side of the Wind
19. Shoplifters
20. The Rider
21. Burning
22. Eighth Grade
23. Paddington 2
24. Shirkers
25. Support the Girls
Contributors:
Jason Adams, Siddhant Adlakha, James Adomian, Danny Bowes, Sean Burns, James Cathcart, Erica Ciccarone, Kin Cosner, Chris Dortch II, Alonso Duralde, Ben Empey, Steve Erickson, Matthew Essary, Rebecca Feldbin, Dr. Gangrene, Zack Hall, Odie Henderson, Elizabeth Howell, Allison Inman, Elric Kane, Peter Labuza, John Leavitt, John Lichman, Craig D. Lindsey, Vincent Martini, Thashana McQuiston, Richie Millennium, Tiffany Minton, Victor Morton, Brian Owens, Stacie Ponder, Matt Prigge, D. Patrick Rodgers, Michael Sicinski, Jason Shawhan, Graham Skipper, Sam Smith, Alice Stoehr, Scout Tafoya, Kyle Turner, Lisa E. Williams, Kristina Winters, Cory Woodroof, Ron Wynn, Tony Youngblood
What image from a film this year has stuck with you the most?
Nicolas Cage at the end of Mandy, drenched in gore, smiling like a madman as he stares at the camera while driving away to an uncertain future. His wild-eyed look and Cheshire Cat smile reveal a mind that’s been torn apart by the terrible things he has had to endure — which feels sadly relevant at the end of 2018. There’s a reason this image has become meme shorthand for making it through a tough year. Matthew Essary
Either Oja Kodar in The Other Side of the Wind or — if the film had to be shot this century — Oja Kodar calming a horse at the magic hour in The Rider. Danny Bowes
Hereditary, car scene — enough said. If I talk about it too much, I’m going to have an anxiety attack. Rebecca Feldbin
Ron Stallworth and Patrice Dumas with their guns drawn as Spike Lee’s trademark dolly shot propels them into a future that is just as horrific and racist as the one they’re currently inhabiting. Lee drags us with them by suddenly cutting to footage of the real-life horrors of Charlottesville. It’s one of Lee’s most audacious moves in a career full of them. Since 2018 was absolute hell for me, I’m also going to mention a happier image that stuck with me: Paddington Bear hugging his Aunt Lucy at the front door at the end of Paddington 2. Odie Henderson
That merciless cross-fade at the end of The Favourite as the queen’s swarm of rabbits devour the frame, one woman dissolving into the other, is a pretty good one. Jason Adams
Probably from Happy as Lazzaro, Lazzaro and Tancredi howling at wolves in the mountains. Allison Inman
Probably THAT shot from Hereditary. You know the one I’m talking about. Additionally, I can’t shake the image of the dead(?) child sitting at the milk-covered kitchen table in Terrified. If you want to disturb me, there’s the formula. Zack Hall
Nothing this year has stayed with me the way Haemi dancing against the sunset in Burning has. Beyond being a beautiful image, it gets at the heart of the profound loneliness that anchors the film, and it quite effectively distills the film’s central conflict of Haemi as both sexual object and woman with agency. The second time I saw the film, knowing the elliptical way the story would unfold after, I started crying almost immediately when the scene began. It is achingly perfect. Ben Empey
The truth-or-dare car scene from Eighth Grade depicts with demystifying accuracy the routine conditioning of young girls to center male pleasure, deny their instincts and feel responsible for their victimization. I have yet to encounter a woman in conversation that hasn’t faced similar trauma as a girl, and it’s heartbreaking. Being able to see this trauma as commonplace raises important questions and invites nuanced conversation between adults and youth about how to reduce harm during sexual development. Tiffany Minton
Trees and people, in Annihilation and Tumbbad. Jason Shawhan
John David Washington and Laura Harrier riding Spike Lee’s trademark people-mover shot, guns drawn and at the ready as they’re pulled into our perilous present. Sean Burns
It’s as much the accompanying sound and the prayers as the surrealistic image, but the identical-twin nuns’ duet in Dumont’s Jeannette: The Childhood of Joan of Arc was the moment(s) of the year for me. Victor Morton
In Bathtubs Over Broadway, industrial musical collector Steve Young is visiting a fellow collector and browsing his vinyl collection. A record starts to play, and his face lights up with intense joy at discovering a new song he’s never heard before. That image sticks with me because it might not be industrial musicals that do it for me, or for you, but we should all have one thing in life that lights up our face like Steve’s. Kristina Winters
Viggo and Mahershala eating KFC in Green Book. Seriously, what the fuck was that about? Craig D. Lindsey
In You Were Never Really Here: Joaquin Phoenix on the floor lying next to a dying thug holding hands and singing together as the latter bleeds out. Elric Kane
Bi Gan’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night’s second-half 3D sequence still floats in my mind constantly. Can’t wait to see it again when the film is released. Vincent Martini
Neil Armstrong leaving a particular item on the moon in First Man; the Burning sunset dance; the moment when the returning Jewish travelers reveal what was in the wooden crates in 1945. Tony Youngblood
In a film year unified by the transformative power of movement and dance, a long take of Jeon Jong-seo’s sunset silhouette in Burning remains seared in my memory, to the tune of Miles Davis’ free-floating Elevator to the Gallows melody and the rumble of The Great Hunger. Sam Smith
Nic Cage’s bathroom meltdown in Mandy has stuck with me the most. That scene basically encompasses the majority of my 2018. Elizabeth Howell
The strikingly beautiful footage of early-’90s Singapore in Sandi Tan’s Shirkers. This inspiring and admirably edited documentary reminded me of the power of film as a personal time capsule and cultural artifact. Lisa E. Williams
Three women screaming their lungs out in the final moments of Support the Girls. Alice Stoehr
In RaMell Ross’ remarkable tone poem Hale County This Morning, This Evening, Quincy Bryant’s young, energetic toddler runs happily around his living room, pausing to look into the camera before running off again, giggling hysterically. Ross allows the shot to play out longer than any other filmmaker would. When the young boy is worn out, he stops and stares into the camera, right at the audience. You’re left hoping that his future is brighter than his present — and suddenly, you feel the trap of rural poverty and race relations in America. And you weep. Brian Owens
Michael Kelly staring at televisions, unblinking, while people try to intimidate him all throughout All Square. Scout Tafoya
SPOILER: Toni Collette barely visible on the ceiling in Hereditary. Graham Skipper
The underwater sequence from You Were Never Really Here is profoundly moving and gorgeous. It’s a deeply unsettling film, and the juxtaposition between its characters’ violent acts and Thomas Townend’s rapturous cinematography (not to mention Jonny Greenwood’s score) is what made it my favorite of 2018. But that scene in particular will stay with me for a long time. Honorable mention goes to Nic Cage’s vodka-soaked bathroom scene in Mandy. Feels like director Panos Cosmatos started with that kernel and reverse-engineered the film from there. All hail Cage’s orange aura. D. Patrick Rodgers
Tom Waits at the top of the tree stealing those owl eggs, then quietly leaving all but one behind in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. Dr. Gangrene
The jaw-dropping final scene in Paul Schrader’s First Reformed. I’ll never again be able to twirl while singing “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” after seeing that. Richie Millennium
I feel like I could answer this with “every frame from Suspiria” and it’d be completely true. From the heartbreaking appearance of Anke to the body-breaking of Olga to the brain-breaking, gore-soaked witches’ ritual, the entire film is full of indelible images. However, it’s the Volk performance that has wrapped itself up in my DNA (with long strands of red fabric, of course). It’s violent and beautiful, nearly 10 minutes of build and build and build accompanied by the most unsettling track from Thom Yorke’s exquisite score. Watching it the first time in the theater, I was right there in that room full of dancing witches, watching them move, unsure of what they were summoning and where they were taking me but going willingly. I’m still there. Stacie Ponder
From Mandy — the image of Mandy, abducted and facing impending doom, breaking into hysterical laughter as Jeremiah Sand plays his goofy folk music and stands before her naked. For me, both this scene and the film as a whole were among the most empowering moments and overall righteous statements I have seen at the movies in some time. I, as a woman, and especially in our current social climate, felt incredibly empowered watching this scene. It took all I had not to stand up and cheer. Thashana McQuiston
An empty drive-in with a train passing behind it, which closes The Other Side of the Wind. The death of cinema had already arrived. Peter Labuza
Roma
What’s the performance you can’t forget?
There are so many fantastic performances by women this year, but my favorite is Carey Mulligan in Wildlife. She plays a 1960s housewife who is left to care for her teenage son when her husband has a midlife crisis. Mulligan is totally fierce. Her character pinballs through emotions such as confidence, acceptance, shame and contempt, showing Mulligan’s tremendous range. Erica Ciccarone
Toni Collette’s astonishing work in Hereditary is one of those high-pitched turns of parental psychosis that come along in horror movies every so often, á la Jack Nicholson in The Shining or Essie Davis in The Babadook. Performances that lay bare everything there is to fear about being a parent or being a child, a fairly universal human condition if ever there was one. She swings from the ceiling with horrific conviction. Jason Adams
Nic Cage in Mandy. Rebecca Feldbin
Olivia Colman in The Favourite has a presence like no other. Every emotional choice she makes feels surprising yet right; it’s a skill that not many actors have. If any performance this year deserves to be compared to those of Gena Rowlands, it’s this one: totally alive, shocking, committed, thunderous. Ben Empey
There’s a moment in the Raid-like Indonesian action film The Night Comes for Us when a side character, affectionately named White Boy Bobby, has a solo standoff with the bad guys after being stabbed about a bazillion times. We only get to know his character briefly, he barely talks, and yet his performance is my very favorite part of the film. Zach Lee’s White Boy Bobby will live on forever in my heart. Kristina Winters
It’s not technically a film from 2018, and the actor in question died three years before I was born — and I’m old — but screw it: I was deeply moved by Norman Foster in The Other Side of the Wind. Foster was an actor and filmmaker who was in deep with Orson Welles; he performed most of the directing duties on Mercury’s truncated WWII thriller Journey Into Fear. He was also once married to Claudette Colbert. Jump to the 1970s, and he’s a perfect fit to play Billy Boyle, one of Jake Hannaford’s lifelong lackeys — the one who spends the first half of Wind explaining the movie so poorly to a financier that he kills the movie-within-the-movie dead. He’s a yes man who can’t even say yes well — the guy who long ago lucked into the kind of job that isn’t really a job, which doesn’t require talent or even being very good. He’s never had to learn a trade. He’s never been without money, or at least access to it. He was simply in the right place at the right time, and has been unduly loyal to a powerful figure who returned the favor. He’s a tragic figure who doesn’t know it. But he’s not sad, melancholic or self-hating; he’s peppy — a fount of energy, willing to do whatever he’s told and do so with a spring in his step. Unlike some of the other entourage lifers clinging onto the about-to-expire Hannaford, Boyle is offered no moment of weary reflection. Instead he persists. Movies often tell us we’re special, that we’re the hero of our story, no matter how mighty our insignificance. Foster’s Billy Boyle is no story’s hero, a statistic buried in a statistic, and that’s why I’ve rarely stopped thinking about him. Matt Prigge
Viola Davis is incredible throughout Widows — magnetic and totally convincing in every scene and setting, even as her character alternates between ruthless and tender, empathetic and demanding. The studios sabotaged the film by debuting it at a time when much of its potential audience was either immersed in various comic book/superhero spectacles or pondering options for holiday trips and gifts. Hopefully, at least her performance will get the attention it deserves down the line. Ron Wynn
Helena Howard in Madeline’s Madeline. Adriano Tardiolo in Lazzaro Felice. Jason Shawhan
Every single member of the “family” in Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Shoplifters, including one of the final performances by the legendary Kirin Kiki. Richie Millennium
Helena Howard in Madeline’s Madeline. Danny Bowes
Brady Jandreau in The Rider. I know he was essentially playing himself. But if actors took a cue from that understated performance, movies would improve. Allison Inman
In Hereditary, Toni Collette turns in one of the most astonishing performances I’ve ever seen in a film. Her howls of grief and despair, her furious rage, her desperate fear. It’s a full-blooded portrayal of a woman whose entire existence is coming undone and she’s powerless to stop it. I adore Hereditary as a whole, but horror is woefully underserved come award season, and there’s always a chance her work will be completely overlooked because of it. Sure, the self-congratulatory spectacle of movie awards shows doesn’t ultimately mean much, but if they’re not going to recognize performances like this one, what’s the point of them at all? Stacie Ponder
Michelle Rodriguez in Widows. Scout Tafoya
I can’t forget Zain Al Rafeea in Capernaum, but I can’t leave out Helena Howard in Madeline’s Madeline, Isabella Nélisse in The Tale, Mia Wasikowska in Damsel, and Sakura Ando leading the entire ensemble of Shoplifters. Sam Smith
I still think about Milly Shapiro as Charlie in Hereditary often. They should make a prequel that’s just about her character. Tiffany Minton
Rafael Casal in Blindspotting. It’s the only performance I’ve ever seen that combines the raw New Hollywood snarl of Robert De Niro and Al Pacino with the let’s-put-on-a-show spirit of Kermit the Frog or Lin-Manuel Miranda. Casal balances two of the most abstract emotions to feel when watching a movie to capture how good people struggle to adapt to bad times. The scene at the house party gone awry features one of the smoothest glides on the emotional scale that you’ll to see in a movie. When the world is out of balance, the jolly showman can have seething rage pulled out of him at any given moment. Casal isn’t just electrifying in the film; he makes you feel like you’ve actually been struck by a heavenly bolt of lightning. Cory Woodroof
I’m going back to Nic Cage in Mandy again for this question. He was so over-the-top and absurd. I have been living for that performance since the day I first saw it. Elizabeth Howell
The “Hannaford Mafia” ensemble of Norman Foster, Mercedes McCambridge, Cameron Mitchell, Edmond O’Brien, Paul Stewart, Lilli Palmer and Tonio Selwart. These guys really enhanced my second viewing of Orson Welles’ long-awaited swan-song magnum opus, The Other Side of the Wind. Foster especially is playing a reflection of himself through Welles’ fractured mirror. Vincent Martini
Without a doubt, Toni Collette in Hereditary, my favorite film of the year and the only horror film in more than a decade that unsettled me to my core. Ari Aster’s feature debut exquisitely pulls off nods to Don’t Look Now, Antichrist, The Sentinel, Psycho, The Ice Storm, Rosemary’s Baby (of course), etc., while also including his own spins on tropes that shake audience expectations just enough to add even more disquiet to the ever-present existential dread throughout the film. That said, this film tries to do a lot — perhaps too much — but Collette’s depiction of the complexities of sudden loss and mourning humanizes and grounds what could otherwise be viewed as a pale imitation of its predecessors. Honorable mentions: Raffey Cassidy and Stacy Martin in Vox Lux. Lisa E. Williams
Olivia Colman is all the emotions in The Favourite, but Ethan Hawke delivers his career best in the searing First Reformed. Brian Owens
Ryan Gosling in First Man, Regina Hall in Support the Girls, Michael B. Jordan in Black Panther and Elsie Fisher in Eighth Grade. Tony Youngblood
There are a few — particularly from women (Olivia Colman in The Favourite, Tilda Swinton in Suspiria, Carey Mulligan in Wildlife), and double-particularly from women of color (Yalitza Aparicio in Roma, Tessa Thompson in Sorry to Bother You). But Zoe Kazan’s performance in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs busted my heart into more pieces than anything else. D. Patrick Rodgers
Chittaranjan Giri in the Marathi-language Indian gem Lathe Joshi, in which he plays a machine worker replaced by automation after 30 years on the job. Giri had to learn Marathi for the role, but even when he isn’t speaking, his eyes scream in agony from behind a blank expression — a learned masculine stoicism — as he’s left behind by an increasingly technological landscape. It’s a story of accepting one’s obsolescence, anchored by an actor who must take center stage in the film while being pushed to the margins, slowly becoming invisible to the world — like hiding in plain sight. Siddhant Adlakha
Helena Howard in Madeline’s Madeline. She’s not even acting even though the whole movie is about her character acting, and acting out demons. Oh ... and this film is her first credited role. Victor Morton
Toni Collette in Hereditary — no question. This was one of the most emotional experiences I had watching a film all year and it was all because of her performance. I have no clue where she went to get to that place — but goddamn, did she nail it. Thashana McQuiston
There’s a moment in The Favourite during the absurd dance scene when the camera just holds on Olivia Colman’s face as it wells up with jealousy, anger, sadness, regret, then finally petulant hatred. This for me is the ultimate expressive power of a film actor. No words, just complete emotional transparency that makes you believe a character so strongly that you no longer simply empathize with them, but you start playing out their internal dialogue as your own. Let her have the Oscar already. Zack Hall
Brett Kavanaugh acting like a little bitch during those hearings. (Same goes to Lindsey Graham.) Craig D. Lindsey
Tilda Swinton in Suspiria was brilliant. She played three different roles, displaying her incredible range. Kin Cosner
For someone known for her boisterous personality, this stillness of Aretha Franklin as she enters the church in Amazing Grace was something otherworldly. And then the voice comes booming out. Peter Labuza
Jessie Buckley in Beast (and Toni Collette in Hereditary should go without saying as one of the most astounding modern screen performances). Elric Kane
The town of Bisbee, Bisbee ’17. John Lichman
You Were Never Really Here
What’s the cinematic experience that most made you want to throw things?
Ready Player One. Danny Bowes
No question, Green Book. It really made me reconsider the sorts of hamfisted "liberal" movies from the past that I have hated, like The Defiant Ones and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. At least those films were excusably naive, like your grandpa. Green Book is more like your present-day white-supremacist president. You just want to jump to the other gotdamn timeline. Michael Sicinski
Vice. It's smug, preaching-to-the-converted crap that thinks it's challenging its audience when it just reinforces their self-righteousness, like the worst aspects of Michael Moore and Oliver Stone rolled into a painful 132 minutes. If Adam McKay had any ability to look inside himself and recognize his complicity in the culture he's criticizing, he would've had the woman in the post-credits scene say she wanted to go home and watch Step Brothers instead of The Fast and the Furious. Steve Erickson
Both Solo and Halloween were awful, but neither was half as unpleasant to watch as Sally Potter's bullshit allegory The Party. Alice Stoehr
The galling homophobia of Bohemian Rhapsody, which should be enough to single-handedly raise Freddie Mercury from the dead to hunt down those who so perverted his life’s tale. Jason Adams
I find the sensationalist CNN-produced documentary Three Identical Strangers to be incredibly repugnant and manipulative; in director Tim Wardle’s desire to “tell the story chronologically” with subjects completely amazed at themselves, he makes some patently questionable decisions in terms of docuemntary ethics. He neglects to disclose that one of the brothers of the main trio, Eddy Galland, struggled with depression and committed suicide until late in the film, like a spoiler, and its treatment of mental illness is used as a prop. The rhetoric around the film is as infuriating as the movie itself, with critics refusing to acknowledge its issues about how mental health is treated, instead buying into Wardle’s BS noir-y narrative, which additionally elides any real reconciliation with tough questions about nature/nurture and performance/identity/authenticity. It’s garbage. Kyle Turner
That little girl at the top of A Quiet Place giving her kid brother the damn toy. Graham Skipper
The ground-loop hum that plagues all digitally projected films that screen in one particular Regal Hollywood 27 theater. I wonder if I would have liked First Reformed more if it were not for this massively distracting sound issue. I literally stuffed toilet paper in my ears. Tony Youngblood
The film experience that most left me wanting to throw things oddly came from a production with commendable performances and noble motivation: Green Book. But it was incredibly disappointing that the producers missed an opportunity to enlighten an audience that in large part neither experienced (thankfully) nor understands what life was like in Jim Crow America. The Negro Motorist Green Book was something many blacks during that time owned and used as a lifeline during trips throughout the South. While making a film celebrating the beauty of friendship that perseveres despite society's ridiculous racial restrictions is hardly a bad thing, that creative decision prevented Green Book from being more than another good buddy movie. Ron Wynn
Blindspotting. This passion project from all involved feels so of-the-moment for where we are right now in the early days of 2019. Gentrification rapidly removing the character from our city, a general fear of authority figures, struggling with breaking past preconceived notions of who we can be. The film touches on all of that and more while simultaneously being wildly entertaining. If I had to pick a film that summed up 2018, it would be Blindspotting. Matthew Essary
That mid-credits scene in Vice. Jason Shawhan
WHY DOESN'T TIGERS ARE NOT AFRAID HAVE THEATRICAL DISTRIBUTION YET?! Zack Hall
Seeing Roma. An astonishing insult. A lie. And it wasn’t even goddamn projected properly. Scout Tafoya
I was so excited to see Annihilation, a sci-fi film that puts women in the forefront, but I came out of my screening fuming. While some of the science in films has to be taken with a grain of salt, making female scientists terrible at science made me want to throw my popcorn. Our scientists never used protective equipment, frequently broke quarantine, and failed to use logic so many times I think I sprained an eye-rolling muscle. It’s like the filmmakers wanted a team of hot women with big guns but thought that wouldn't be respectable, so they had to make them “scientists.” Except they did it so badly it is an insult to science and to women everywhere. Kristina Winters
How did they shoot Solo without once lighting a scene correctly? John Leavitt
At the end of Green Book, when (spoiler alert) Mahershala Ali is the one driving his paid driver Viggo Mortensen the last stretch of their journey, the final debasement that he as a queer man of color is subjected to, in a movie that is structured around such humiliations, I almost screamed. Ben Empey
You know what’s an upside to being laid off from a full-time gig and being bad at freelance hustling? You only see the movies you want to see! And yet I still watched a handful of bad movies, just to keep my edge. The moment in question isn’t from a film that’s bad, per se, but it is a real low point. About halfway through Widows, we learn what happened to Viola Davis and Liam Neeson’s son: He was killed by the police during a police stop, à la Philando Castile. Not since the sex scene/massacre scene in Spielberg’s Munich have I begged a movie not to do the fool thing it was about to do. Matt Prigge
Bird Box. I’ve described this movie as “deeply crappy” on a couple of occasions and will continue to do so. I’m not sure which was more frustrating — seeing actors I admire deliver such painfully trite dialogue, or seeing half the internet embrace the movie in meme form. Bad film! D. Patrick Rodgers
Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing-Taylor choosing not to explain the current state of Issei Sagawa in Caniba aside from a few open-ended hints from his brother about their situation. I still think this is one of the strongest films of the year, even if it’s completely against giving a well-defined exposition. John Lichman
The fact that everyone was talking about Chris Pine's penis instead of talking about what a waste of a film OUTLAW KING actually was. Brian Owens
Strictly relating to the film itself, it'd have to be seeing Capernaum, a film that, without its framing device, would ... still be not a very good movie (a gigantic hunk of one-note miserabilism in headache-inducing fast contemporary visual style), but at least one you could see had a chance of being good and defensible. The framing device is a child's lawsuit against his parents for having him, with part of the desired legal remedy being preventing the pregnant mother from having any more children. KILL THE POOR! Ugh. If you can include the audience, my worst experience was opening night of the Virginia Film Festival, in which a packed Charlottesville crowd loved, loved, loved Green Room. It'd be a bad movie under any circumstance, but it was nonstop fingernails-on-the-chalkboard stuff to be surrounded by people yukking it up with Viggo's over-the-top goombah act and Farrelly's directing every punch line to the back row like this was There's Something About Mary. Victor Morton
A Quiet Place. As someone who primarily watches and writes about horror, I’m used to suspending disbelief and rolling with the bloody punches and all that. But once the parents in A Quiet Place made the truly boneheaded decision to have a baby — you know, a meaty scream machine — into a world where you must be silent lest you get eaten by monsters, I checked out of caring about their wellbeing and, thus, the movie’s world. After that, every inconsistency and cliché and plot device moved front and center and I couldn’t ignore them and enjoy the story. I’ve held a grudge against it ever since, but the hate is keeping me young, so at least it was good for something. Stacie Ponder
I walked out of Halloween wondering if I’d seen the same film as everyone else had. I still wonder that. As a horror fan, I had very high hopes for the film. I really wanted to reach through the screen and grab Jamie Lee Curtis to save her from that train wreck. That was really a horrible experience and one-hour-and-44-minutes of my life that I can never get back. Elizabeth Howell
Let’s call this a space for Bold Statements. What’s on your mind?
The abandonment of screen masking by many major multiplex chains is a burr on the ass of contemporary moviegoing. Theaters previously utilized movable curtains to “mask” the areas of their screen left empty by varying aspect ratios of the projected image, creating the illusion of a screen the same size as the movie. But the nonsensical new corporate thinking is that the sharp frame lines of digital projection no longer require the use of masking, thereby leaving massive tracts of empty silver space on either the top and bottom or left and right of the movie you’re trying to watch. This is of course endlessly distracting, not to mention disappointing as hell when you realize you just paid all that money for a picture that doesn’t even fill the whole dang screen. Yet another stupid, pointless diminishment of presentation quality by an industry that so often acts like it would rather we all just stayed home. Sean Burns
Vox Lux is a better film about Lady Gaga than the movie with Lady Gaga in it; Vice is a brilliant but deeply insufferable film that really only works as an experiment; 1985 sucked; Black Mirror: Bandersnatch is actually a good film about grief and bereavement; and everyone, including me, slept on Steve McLean’s Postcards From London. Kyle Turner
I’m still not sure what to do with The Other Side of the Wind. Where to put it or how to discuss it. But Orson Welles and his collaborators spent decades making it, and I’ve been mulling over its sister film Citizen Kane for most of my life, so I think it’s OK not to rush this one. Here’s to slower criticism in 2019. Alice Stoehr
I miss John Waters films and wish he would make another one. Thashana McQuiston
Roma, a film that pays great dividends on Alfonso Cuarón’s career-spanning fascination with childhood and the perspective of memory, is the kind of film we always wish for: a director following a spectacular blockbuster with a deeply personal film, one that tells a story about the people in the background whose stories are otherwise untold, and told with great empathy, Kubrick-level production design and a sensory experience that simply must be appreciated in its stunning glory on the big screen. Due to Netflix’s infuriatingly inflexible conditions upon U.S. theaters, Nashvillians were among the many cities that didn’t get that opportunity. There must be a way to be better. To remind us, through cinema’s gates came the comfort and guidance of saints, in Happy as Lazzaro, Capernaum, Roma, Shoplifters and Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, the latter of which is a salve for the Trump era so needed that it broke the Belcourt’s all-time attendance record. Art connects us. And if you don’t already believe that the collective unconscious in operating on overdrive these days, all it takes is a scan of the synchronicities that popped up in 2018’s films, like Madeline’s Madeline and Suspiria, already united through the power of dance, both featuring a traumatic incident that involved someone’s arm being forcefully burned with a scalding iron. I mean, what are the odds? Sam Smith
The invention of recliner seats might be the saving grace of multiplex theaters, but folks need to apply “Grandma’s house” rules and keep those dang things clean. They’re easier to dirty up than the seats of old and become gross with careless popcorn eating and soda slurping. Now that theaters offer practically all the other food groups, those things will depend on a new raised bar for moviegoer etiquette. The wonderful theater staffs can’t do it on their own. If we don’t all collectively work to keep these reclining jewels hygienic, we’re all going to get grimy. Let those squeaky fart noises that eek out when you adjust your reclining angle be the only nasty things to come out of these new seats. Cory Woodroof
Though it’s No. 4 on my list, Bisbee ’17 is the highest-quality, bar-raising, infused-with-magic, made-with-love movie I’ve ever seen. Allison Inman
Organize at your local library to support Kanopy! Peter Labuza
More female leads and more minority representation in film. I don’t really think that is a bold statement these days, but couldn’t hurt to be said again. Rebecca Feldbin
If Beale Street Could Talk
I’m hoping in 2019 to see more ambitious, complex and adventurous stories told about different eras and personalities that are still being ignored. For example, I’d love to see more films about life in pre-civil-rights-era black America, not only in the South, but across the nation. We also need more productions spotlighting Asian, Latino and Native American communities, told from their perspective. It would be great to see biopics that didn’t feel compelled to exaggerate or overplay pathos or tragedy, but also don’t excuse or overlook character defects, even when showing those defects results in less sympathetic but more accurate and nuanced portrayals. I also hope there can be more satirical films as opposed to the overly broad, frat-type presentations that currently dominate comedies. While I enjoy some Marvel and DC efforts, how about fewer comic book/superhero films? We could certainly use more showcases and opportunities for women filmmakers, especially women of color. It would be great to see more Westerns and vintage film-noir private-detective movies, and to witness the return of real horror as opposed to just slice-and-dice stuff. And yes, there are those of us in our 60s and beyond who still go to see films. How about more productions that reflect our experiences and lives, with examples from multiple ethnic and racial communities? Ron Wynn
The Oscars are trash. Long live Lynne Ramsay! Erica Ciccarone
I would really like to see a resurgence in the horror genre of DIY and indie films. For the past few years, foreign horror has been where it’s at for me. American horror has become banal and safe, and mostly follows the flow of the Blumhouse cookie-cutter formula. We were lacking a direct-to-video market for so long, but now have video-on-demand and a variety of streaming services available where these films should be showcased. The best horror comes from the love of the genre and the desire to create, even when resources are limited. DIY films of recent years, like The Alchemist’s Cookbook, show that this can still be done, and that there is hope for horror in a world full of Blumhouse and cheap-and-fast CGI. Elizabeth Howell
I’m both terrified and obscenely excited for the upcoming streaming-app war that’s about to take place when WarnerMedia unleashes its behemoth that reintroduces the Criterion Channel, aka FilmStruck, later this year. I fear it will both set precedent and provide a taste of things to come now that Amazon and YouTube have decided to step back from acquiring films, while instead announcing random projects as “exclusives.” John Lichman
Overall, 2018 was one of my favorite years for movies in quite some time. Looking back at the roles and films about and/or by women, people of color and the LGBT community, it feels like maybe — just maybe — there is finally some real change in the air. Audiences long neglected by the mainstream are finally getting a bit of due. Comic book/action blockbusters still dominate the release schedule, but even those have started to tell stories about different kinds of characters — there are black superheroes and women superheroes, and the actors who play them are no longer relegated to supporting roles. The industry as a whole can only benefit from increased diversity, and I’m excited for what’s in store. Stacie Ponder
The House That Jack Built is a fantastic piece of satire. Mocking Trump-era masculinity, slasher-film tropes, the idolization of serial killers, discussions about art and violence, and even his own pretension, Lars von Trier effectively channels Maniac and American Psycho in this poignant piece of sociopolitical commentary. Matt Dillon’s Patrick Bateman-esque performance of an awkward, insecure serial killer (who suffers from OCD) desperate to affirm masculine superiority is outstanding — and, yes, darkly humorous — as his narcissism is consistently reinforced by the hetero-patriarchal environment surrounding him. The women and younger generations of men in Jack are victims of cultural apathy. Their performances (especially those by Siobhan Fallon Hogan and Riley Keough) encourage audiences to distance themselves from Jack, making it difficult to glorify the killer, while instead spurring viewers to identify and empathize with those whose voices are ignored. There’s controversy over the film’s use of sex and violence, but while some of the scenes of violence are brutal, it’s certainly no Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. I daresay that von Trier has evolved the serial killer genre. Lisa E. Williams
I’ve been wondering lately what late Scene editor and film critic Jim Ridley would write about the fate of the Nashville Film Festival if he were still alive today. I’ll readily admit that I’ve probably been overreacting to every bit of news (or lack thereof) over the past several months about the festival — the departure of artistic director Brian Owens, the announcement that the 2019 festival is being moved to October, the hiring of Jason Padgitt as executive director, the presumed ongoing search for a new artistic director — but I feel like I’ve earned the right to care a little bit about what’s going on with the festival. I’ve got a bag full of all-festival membership laminates dating back to 2007, and program guides and ticket stubs going further back than that, memorializing my love for my city’s film festival. In 2018 alone, Nashville film audiences got the chance to see films like Minding the Gap, Thunder Road, Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda, Blindspotting and Vivian Qu’s Angels Wear White on the big screen because of the Nashville Film Festival. I mean, good luck finding Vivian Qu’s other, equally wonderful film Trap Street on DVD or on any streaming service — I know it and love it because I saw it at the 2014 Nashville Film Festival. I think the film festival is vital because it gives Nashville its one chance every year to see a wide array of films that will never play in town again, because many of them won’t get picked up by distributors for release in the U.S. And as the festival is planning to celebrate its 50th anniversary this year, every pessimistic bone in my body is hoping that it will not be the 50th and final edition of the festival. Would Jim be planning to write a sequel to his “Fade to Black” article that lamented the imminent loss of the Belcourt back in 1999? Richie Millennium
In 2019, Western arts criticism would benefit immensely from opening itself up to non-Western perspectives. America focusing inward has had less-than-desirable consequences in recent years (for Americans anyway; for the rest of us, it goes back further). It’s my hope that our collective conversation about cinema can be better than that. Also, Paddington 2 is a masterpiece. Siddhant Adlakha
For the first time in a long time, Hollywood has produced not one but multiple perfectly acceptable studio comedies that don’t feel like failed attempts at filmed improv. This is progress. John Leavitt
This was the year of movies being 20 minutes too long. Seriously. So many films that would normally be 100 minutes long clocked in at 120 minutes or more, and it really ruined many of the films by auteurs I admire. There was too much fat on the plate this year. I mean, if Widows had been tightened to its essence and just 90 minutes, it would probably be my film of the year. And, yes, I largely blame Netflix for this loosening of the belt. Elric Kane
To quote Bradley Cooper’s crappy A Star Is Born performance, “Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die.” I hope Hollywood stops making out-of-touch movies like Bohemian Rhapsody, which belongs in the homophobic Reagan era, and Green Book, which belongs in a dumpster beside a whites-only drive-in theater circa 1957. Odie Henderson
2018 was the Year of the Dad. Aside from an overall move away from simplistic identity politics toward outright criticism of the fundamental systemic biases that allow gender, class and racial discrimination to thrive, the films of 2018 gave us hopeful depictions of altruistic patriarchs. From the nontraditional father figures in films like Shoplifters, You Were Never Really Here and The Night Comes for Us, to the “single dad does his best” paradigm on display in films like Thunder Road, Eighth Grade, Searching, Leave No Trace, and The Rider, this slew of desexualized, devoted family men offered (for better or worse) a dynamic, safe and reassuring alternate depiction of masculinity in contrast to the real horror stories bravely brought forth by the #MeToo movement. After all, with this president, who can blame us for looking for better father figures wherever we can find them, even if it means making them up? Zack Hall
Suspiria is going to go down as one of the all-time great horror-remake masterpieces, and it’s being sort of sat on quietly right now. I think in a few years people are going to look back and realize this didn’t get nearly enough credit for how excellent a film it is. Graham Skipper
With the exception of Beale Street and The Favourite, pretty much every film currently playing in theaters is unmitigated codswallop. This could be the worst awards season in recent memory, and if a piece of garbage like Bohemian Rhapsody ends up winning major prizes, it will only confirm the essential worthlessness of Hollywood as an industry. Let Netflix take it over. Hell, give it over to the Chinese. American entertainment is finished. Michael Sicinski
