Lets
not beat around the bush; 2017 was a difficult year to be a cinema fan, in more
ways than one. There were alarmingly few blockbusters that stood out this year,
and for some reason it was harder than ever to find independent and foreign
cinema that is worth a damn. Nevertheless, when a breakthrough ever occurs it
was more than an insurmountable relief, it was an event. The best films of 2017
were like guiding lights in a sea of despair and bad taste. Even if this crop
of films could not beat the high points of previous years—though not many can
compete with Moonlight and Mad Max: Fury Road—the best of 2017 were
revelatory, strange and exciting to watch. Anyone who felt unfulfilled by
cinema this year needs to check these out, for they truly made 2017 worth all
the trouble. But first some quick addendums; I am guilty of not seeing Good Time, Jane, Rat Film, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri,
Mudbound, Personal Shopper and The Lost
City of Z. I did see Phantom Thread, Fantastic Woman and Paddington
2 but since I could not see these films until late into January I am considering
these films as 2018 releases. So good luck, other films of 2018, you all got
your work cut out for ya!
10. Nocturama
Possibly
the most morally distressing film since A
Clockwork Orange; Nocturama is a
story about a group of multiracial teenage terrorists who pull off something
horrifying, and then hide out in an abandoned mall contemplating their actions.
This is a bleak, nihilistic yet hypnotic little movie that is impossible to
resist watching. The scheme is told non-linearly like Tarantino’s early crime
work but has a deathly cold detachment that recalls films like Sonatine. The film comes to full bloom
in the mall as these characters lay low coming to their own existential
realizations and dance to Willow Smith’s “Whip My Hair,” which oddly leads to
what makes this film so compelling. Nocturama
controversially never truly explains why they did what they did, which may be a
legitimate point but this point overlooks the fact that, well, they are kids.
They are just sad, dumb, lonely kids, too scared to face society and too proud
to cry for help, until it is too late.
9. Columbus
Columbus is directed by Kogonada, who is
most known for creating these specific yet captivating video essays like Ozu // Passageways and Hands of Bresson, and with Columbus—his first feature film—he practices what he preaches in the
best way. The cinematography is on another level. Every scene is composed with
a geometric level of precision that evolves this quiet drama about a man (John
Cho) and a woman (Haley Lu Richardson) who meet and bond over a fondness for
architecture to cope with family into a spellbinding complex portrait of love
and friendship. Not a single shot is wasted in this film and every moment
moves. Columbus is such a masterful
showcase of classic art-house filmmaking that to call it a great debut only
sells it short.
8. Star Wars: The Last Jedi
“The farmers have won. Not us.”—Takeshi
Shimura, Seven Samurai,
There
is a lot to discuss about The Last Jedi;
as there always seems to be for a Star Wars film, but this one was particularly
special in the grand scheme of the franchise. It still has exciting action; it
certainly is the only blockbuster of 2017 that does not slump into a CGI blob in
the final act. Aesthetically speaking, this is first Star Wars since Empire Strikes Back that feels
unashamedly inspired by Akira Kurosawa, Howard Hawks and Flash Gordon. However
speaking of Kurosawa, this is the Star Wars that takes the lessons of his films
to heart. Taking an idea from Seven
Samurai, The Last Jedi quite
literally throws out the vain “traditions” in order to examine what it truly
means to be a hero, and does so with hilarious audacity. The fact that this is
the first film of the franchise to have genuine empathy for characters that are
outsiders—whether it is a rebel bomber that nobody in the audience ever knew or
a girl who came from nowhere—is absolutely remarkable, and to see people
intimidated or confused by this idea makes it all the more vital. The Last Jedi is an exciting reminder
that a lineage does not make a great hero but how one faces great obstacles.
Not bad for a film that has flying rodents called Porgs.
7. Dunkirk
A
semi-silent WW II film that not only interlocks three stories but in three
specific areas within three varying lengths of time and is not about the Allies
winning but surviving a retreat. How did this get greenlit? This is less an
old-fashioned war epic than a maximalist art film, an exercise in how montage
can both compress and reveal the importance every vital second of this crisis.
The story of the airplanes is especially compelling in showcasing grace under
pressure especially when the pilot leader (played by a masked Tom Hardy) must
face enemy bombers and fighters alone, in a Spitfire with a broken a fuel
gauge. One can just see the stress his eyes as he calculates what he can do
before he safely lands, or whether landing is even an option. The film is not
interested in back-stories or moral discussions of its characters but rather
examining their instincts and pains faced by those who triumphed in this dire
moment in history. It is a WWII film that distills everything to its bare
essentials, revealing triumph through action; if nothing else, it makes for one
the most relentless blockbusters of the decade.
6. The Shape of Water
This
is essentially the best adaptation to a best selling page-turning romance novel
that never existed. The Shape of Water
is chocolate box of cinematic tradition, a sprawl of elements stolen from The Creature From the Black Lagoon, Amélie, even Fred and Ginger musicals,
all gracefully interweaved into a gorgeous romantic spectacle, and it is so
delicious. Guillermo del Toro is
an opulent director who brazenly flaunts his influences but more importantly is
brilliant in his ability to contextualize these elements into vivid and clever
storytelling. More than a love story between a fish-man and a mute woman, The Shape of Water is a beautiful story
that is more than about seeing someone beyond any perceived faults, but rather
in finding beauty in the faults.
5. Get Out
Talk
about film of the moment. Before this film premiered in January, all anyone
knew about it was that insane trailer, which made it look like another horror
film heading to theaters early for a Halloween home video release. It has been
almost a year since then and people are still talking about Get Out like it premiered yesterday. Get Out is a film that so succinctly
rips into the systemic racism that to say it is satire just puts it lightly, this
film Jordan Peele diagnosing of America’s ills. Granted this is not just a case
of “right place, right time” no this is an awesome showcase of classic sci-fi
horror that is just unforgettable. The screenplay alone shows that
writer/director Jordan Peele has a great instinct for thrills and allegory that
recalls one of Rod Serling. Get Out
is perhaps not quite as debonair as the continental breakfast that is The Twilight Zone, but the wit is just
as sharp.
4. Lady Bird
The
film begins with Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson and her mom on a road trip,
crying over of an audio-book of The
Grapes of Wrath; after the tape ends, they talk about college, which leads
to them arguing so intensely that Lady Bird jumps out of the car. This side-splitting
exercise in whiplash represents so much of what Lady Bird gets right as a
comedy, a coming-of-age story, and more. Lady
Bird is a hilarious and dynamic piece of cinema that keeps the viewer
guessing over what will happen next. Every character will make one laugh, cry,
and sometimes both in the same scene. It is also a testament to how exceptionally
edited this film is because sweet Jesus it is. Forget Dunkirk, if there is a film in 2017 that perfectly uses editing as
an expressive tool of portraying the fleetingness of time, it is Lady Bird. Not only does the film reduce
all big and little moments of a kid’s last year in high school in about 90
minutes, it quietly reveals what can be missed. So many little threads unravel
that expand to what seems like every person in Sacramento, engulfing the viewer
into what makes these people and this town so vibrant. By the end, it makes one
wish that they were still there, just to see how everyone has changed. More
than just a comedy, Lady Bird is a
celebratory poem about how so much can change in one person’s life, within and
around them, and it did so in almost half the runtime as Boyhood.
3. Faces Places
A
film that is as simple as its title suggests. This lovely and funny little
performative documentary shows French New Wave legend Agnès Varda and
mysterious street artist JR doing what they love, making pictures. Driving in
what looks like a camera on four wheels, they take pictures of local people and
plaster these gigantic photos on buildings, shipping containers, for the world
to see. The reactions of the townsfolk range between amused and amazed to the
point of tears. There is never a dull moment in Face Places; but as exhilarating as it is to just see Varda and JR
deface these places, what makes this film so powerful are personal revelations
of Varda and her friendly relationship with JR. Overtime, Varda quietly reveals
that this creative project is as much about going for “one last ride,” blessing
the artists of the future, and embracing the beautiful absurdities of life. Faces Places is a film clearly made by
auteurs with heavy thoughts on their mind, but is a testament to their ability to
express it with such delight and grace, which is surprisingly hard to find
these days.
2. The Florida Project
When
Sean Baker arrived into mainstream acclaim with his iPhone-shot barnburner Tangerine, he brought an empathic eye
toward transgendered streetwalkers in LA with scorching colors that were simply
unrivaled. With The Florida Project,
Baker replaces the digital with 35 mm film but brings back that same eye for
this vibrant and sensitive portrait of kids living in the motels/makeshift-projects
of Kissimmee, right next to the Magic Kingdom. The result is a brilliant slice
of poetic realism that vividly portrays the starry-eyed perspective of little
kids living in American poverty. Every scene is lovingly shot, filled with
scorching sunlight and all the colors of an old candy shop. The film even shows
cranes that seemingly wander around the town like they own the place. That is
the thing about Florida, for a child, even the land outside the happiest place
on earth seems pretty magical.
And
what kids, they are an absolute riot to watch as they run unsupervised through
the Magic Palace motel with adventure and mischief on their mind. There is
nothing precious about them either, these little shits curse, burn stuff, and
talk with their mouth full, but even at their worst, one cannot help but admire
their audacity and fear for them. This is particularly true of Moonee (played
with gusto by Brooklyn Prince) who has this crass drive and love for the motel
she calls home that is disarmingly earnest and sweet. When she says a
leprechaun with a pot of gold lives at the end of the rainbow, one could easily
believe her. She is just a kid trying to live the best life that she can, which
makes the film all the more heartbreaking.
As
playful as the film can be, the dire reality of these children is portrayed candidly
and ever present. For every endearing moment there is undercut with violence,
destitution, and more sinister fears that happen around these kids who do not
know how much is at stake. The Florida
Project is wild and can be hilarious, but is also a bleak and profound
study of the most vulnerable people in the country.
1. Dawson City: Frozen Time
The
story of Dawson City is almost too absurd to be history. A gold mining town
founded between the birth of film and the Klondike Gold Rush, it was also last
in line for Hollywood film distribution. As talkies became the norm, the
studios suggested that the city should destroy these silent films. Over 500
films were buried underneath the town and they were forgotten about; until by
some comic miracle, they were rediscovered by a construction crew in the 1980s,
hired to dig up dirt for a septic tank. Finally, filmmaker Bill Morrison then
used those very reels and photos taken at Dawson to create Dawson City: Frozen Time, a sweeping biography of the town and its
people. However, what could have merely been a beautiful slideshow evolves
into an indescribable statement of humanity, art, and their place in
history.
Morrison seemingly performs reincarnation
through appropriating these decaying strips like the artists of these films
were finally given the recognition that they deserved after decades of rotting
in obscurity. The decay of the reels instantly recognizable, often all but the
very center of the frame is corroded away, but there is enough to convey
genuine reality, like the games that surrounded the Black Sox Scandal, but also
poetic truths. A scene of a lonesome man meeting a lover becomes a ghostly
symbol when the lover is corroded out of the film. It is a devastating poetic
documentary of how art can touch so many yet can be tarnished so quickly. Dawson City: Frozen Time is an extraordinary
and unforgettable achievement of archaeology as poetry.
Honorable Mentions:
A Ghost Story
Baby Driver
Blade Runner 2049
Big Sick
Call Me By Your Name
The Ornithologist
The Square
Wonder Woman
Twin Peaks: The Return… ? I just don’t know what to do with this… experience.
On one hand, it would easily be somewhere in the top five, but is this a film?
Is this TV? It is certainly not HBO, but what is this?
So
now dear reader, what were some films of 2017 that you thought were amazing?
What was overlooked? And more importantly, what the hell is Twin Peak: The Return? Seriously, it
keeps me awake at night.
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