An intro to this list. Plan to keep individual write-ups as brief as possible in order to keep up the pace.
100. The Wind Rises (Miyazaki, 2013)
Hayao Miyazaki's final masterpiece. The animation is as lovely as ever, but the film's mix of wistfulness and moral contemplation is an even trickier reward, especially for a swan song.
99. Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (Iñárritu, 2014)
I get why it's maligned by some. The Michael Keaton character serving as a stand-in for Iñárritu's own foolhardy, unfastened audacity with Lindsay Duncan as a surrogate for any critic that stands in his way is a valid reading. And yet, it is a bold feat. The one-shot visual conceit is technically awe-inspiring and yields some of the most arresting images in Emmanuel Lubezki's already stacked portfolio. Even more impressive to me is how the one-shot conceit never feels like an arbitrary choice executed simply to prove that Iñárritu can pull it off, instead existing in clever relation to the flow of the stage, the grandiosity of ego, and the immediacy of losing one's mind.
98. Begin Again (Carney, 2013)
Sure, John Carney's movies tend to follow the same formula, but who cares when the results are this sweet, joyous, and tuneful? However, the impeccable soundtrack and ensemble swiftly excuse any similarities to Once.
97. Spa Night (Ahn, 2016)
Manages to be incredibly sexy even when grounded in David's hesitant POV. Speaks to the confidence of Andrew Ahn (in his directorial debut) and to his ability to pack a ton of insights into a minimalist shape.
96. Fire at Sea (Rosi, 2016)
I don't watch as many documentaries as I'd like to (hence their scarcity on this list) and feel self-conscious in assessing their merits, so one moving past my own shortcomings and being among my favorites of the year should show you how special it is to me. Which is certainly the case for Gianfranco Rosi's harrowing documentary about the small Italian island of Lampedusa and the European migrant crisis.
95. Poetry (Lee, 2010)
I should confess that I haven't revisited it since 2011, which explains why it's as low as it is on this list, but the expressiveness of Yun Jeong-hie's face and the command of Lee Chang-dong's voice serve this story so bracingly.
94. 45 Years (Haigh, 2015)
I know the movie is always reduced to this, but that last shot still wrecks me. As reticent and crestfallen as Weekend is frisky and tender. More on that one further down the list, though.
93. Mission: Impossible: Ghost Protocol (Bird, 2011)
Moves as speedily and as rip-roaringly as that BMW Cruise handles in the last act. Not a single setpiece, actor, costume, or shot falters. The standout in Hollywood's single best franchise.
92. Eighth Grade (Burnham, 2018)
What yearbook award would you bestow upon Bo Burnham if you had the power? Most Winning Director-Star Chemistry? Most Likely to Win a Screenwriting Award? Best Use of a Catchphrase? Any of these would work, in all honesty. Elsie Fisher's performance is one of the best from a child. Gucci!
91. Pride (Warchus, 2014)
"Where are my lesbians?!" I love every single performance in this movie.
90. High Life (Denis, 2018)
The ache of loss and (self-) destruction. The hopelessness of creation and rebirth. All culminating in what's possibly Denis' most touching ending.
89. Lincoln (Spielberg, 2012)
I didn't realize it at the time, but Steven Spielberg and Tony Kushner took what could've been an Abe Lincoln Biopic Job and sneakily made a daring movie about the precariousness of contemporary American politics. Preserves the myth and prestige of Lincoln without idealizing him. Understands the compromise and trickiness of progressive reform without eschewing its importance. Expertly played in tempo and performance.
88. Can You Ever Forgive Me? (Heller, 2018)
Still feels weirdly undervalued, despite the fanbase and nominations. There was hardly a duo this decade that were able to top Melissa McCarthy and Richard E. Grant, while Marielle Heller's gifts with tone, authentic feeling, and texture completely guide Lee Israel's story.
87. The Irishman (Scorsese, 2019) & Silence (Scorsese, 2016)
Decided to cheat and include both of Scorsese's best films of the decade as a single entry. I had finalized this list before being able to see The Irishman, but having had the time to ruminate on it for a while, it didn't feel right to exclude it. At first I thought the two were an incongruous pairing, aside from the extensive running time and the fact that both films share a D.P. Upon further reflection, I'm not so sure that's the case. Each film tackles a different milieu, yes, but the motivations and convictions of Rodrigues and Frank overlap in interesting ways, particularly in the third hour of both. Does Rodrigues risk anything by his symbolic gesture of stepping on the face of Jesus? Does Frank still benefit from upholding the reputation of his now-dead running mates? Or do the systems they serve reap the glories while they exude undying loyalty to them until the day they die? Who would've thought De Niro and Garfield could share so many similarities?
86. Moonrise Kingdom (Anderson, 2012)
I look back at The Grand Budapest Hotel and Isle of Dogs fondly in my memories, but Moonrise still takes the cake for me as far as Andersons from the past decade go. Kids who wish they were adults and adults who can't stop acting like kids. Their infatuations acted out with intensity, but all the more fleetingly. That letter-writing sequence is complete perfection.
Bruising and intimate in a way that only a filmmaker drawing from their own personal background/experiences can be. Avoids an insularity by pulling out two magnetic performances from Honor Swinton Byrne and Tom Burke.
84. Victoria (Schipper, 2015)
I was literally worried about my own ability to drive home after seeing this one. The tension of the plot and the dizzying execution of the camera are a discombobulating shock to the system. Goes even deeper with character and performance.
83. Toni Erdmann (Ade, 2016)
A movie that genuinely earns the title of Unpredictable. Maren Ade is a genius at tracking psychology and relationships and nailing complicated conceits that could easily throw other filmmakers off. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to throw a naked party with my co-workers and sing "The Greatest Love of All" with my dad present. (Should this be higher?)
82. Starlet (Baker, 2012)
"I've got bingo!" Gah, bless Besedka Johnson (RIP). Also, bless Dree Hemingway, who's equally great in Sean Baker's gem of a movie. Baker could have made a movie that pokes snarky fun at the idiosyncrasies of old people and young people and the hilarity of the generational gap, but instead he chose to zero in on two people's specific complexities and stirring bond. And the revelation at the end completely makes you reassess everything you just took in.
81. The Lost City of Z (Gray, 2016)
The temptation to simply write "Darius Khondji forever!" and leave it at that was strong, but the movie has even more going on than just the gorgeous cinematography. It's quite the companion to The Immigrant (more on that later) in its stately, operatic storytelling and its ideas about the elusiveness of prosperity against era-specific lore.
80. God's Own Country (Lee, 2017)
Two of the most gorgeous romantic leads of the decade in a movie that constantly shakes up the expectations I have for it, both in regards to the tropes it subverts and its political ideas.
79. Mother of George (Dosunmu, 2013)
Sensuous in its images, rhythms, and sound design. D.P. Bradford Young has almost* never been better.
78. Summer 1993 (Simón, 2017)
Ingenious rendering of a child's eye POV, without treating Frida too preciously. Director Carla Simón cohesively navigates a tricky protagonist, allowing us to sympathize with Frida while conceding her difficult nature.
77. You Were Never Really Here (Ramsay, 2017)
I always had the sense that the movie was a little too unrelenting, but I also haven't been able to stop thinking about it since seeing it in the summer of 2018, so maybe I should give it more credit. In terms of how I experience the movie, it's a little similar to the opening scene where Phoenix is asphyxiating himself in a closet. Only the closet's more like a tomb when I think about it.
76. Middle of Nowhere (DuVernay, 2012)
*My favorite of Bradford Young's works, for what it's worth. But the real story is Ava DuVernay, who crafts an unfamiliar story about a rare character type with incredible sensitivity. Just wait until you see what she accomplishes next!
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