(Photo credit: Toru Yamanaka)
For lack of a better image and not being too good on the graphic design front, I've decided to use a photograph of Hayao Miyazaki smiling as the cover for this article, because I like Hayao Miyazaki, Hayao Miyazaki makes me happy, and Hayao Miyazaki smiling makes me smile, so all round, shiny happy people, right? Brilliant! Let's go!
At the end of one decade, so begins another (frig sake, I sound like Boris Johnson yapping on about Brexit!). We're in the midst of Oscar season, and all this talk about the best films of 2019 got me thinking, "What are the best films of the 2010s?"
This was a significant decade for me, as it was my first full decade as an adult, and for much of that period I dedicated myself to reviewing as many movies as I could. I don't know the exact number, but it would be well into the hundreds. So, I would like to think there was some vested interest on my part and that I'd be able to comment with a semblance of legitimacy.
Before I get underway, a few things should be stated:
1. When I say in the title "Top Twenty" know there has been a little bit of flexibility applied when ti comes to this. There are twenty entries, but in all twenty-three films are appraised, as I feel they are most representative of both my opines and where they stand in the wider scheme of things. One of these entries includes three films, so as to accommodate a whole trilogy, and another features two similarly-themed pictures, addressing related topics and issues. Also, hey, it's my list!
2. My opinions as and when a number of these films came out can be found in the back catalogue/archive of my blog. However, I am taking retrospective opinion into account, and what I mean by that is that the movies making the grade here are the ones which have stayed with me. So, I may have liked a particular work over that of another upon initial release, but in hindsight my opinion might have changed. That plays a key part in my overall judgment.
3. This list is composed of not only films I reviewed or discussed upon initial release, but films I have also seen in the years since. The proportion is 18:5, so most of these works I have discussed in depth, but there were others that haven't which I viewed more casually, but felt could not be ignored.
4. As I am 'semi-retired' as far as film criticism (after having the best intentions to balance my own artistic endeavours with film criticism, I chose to sacrifice the latter to pursue the former), it must be said that from 2017-2019 I do not possess so much as full a perspective as the years previous. Put simply, the volume of movies I watched saw a massive diminution, being stuck in the thick of writing my debut novel, Cat's Miaow (which is finished now. Like, legitimately this time.). That said, I did see a number of films which really moved me and are represented on this list.
5. It is presented in ascending order (#20-#1) for these purposes, so least first, most last, etc.
And so, with all that in mind, let us commence battle. Round One! Fight!
#20 - Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Nuri Bilge Ceylan, 2011)
I watched this film a few years ago, and although I liked Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Uzak, I was not expecting this whatsoever. It really snuck up and took me by surprise. On paper the plot, a police investigation of the search for a corpse led by a suspect who was drunk at the time of the body's burial, and thus has a hazy memory as to it's location, is rather simple, but it's about so much more. As the group work through the night, this philosophical and blackly humorous film is as much about the musings and observations, the lives of the individuals involved. With it's languorous and meditative pacing, beautifully shot in rural small towns, villages and the hillside of the Anatolian steppe, it's a unique and fascinating picture that is hard to forget once seen.
#19 - Manchester by the Sea (Kenneth Lonergan, 2016)
Despite the praise being lavished on the picture, I didn't see Manchester By The Sea until after the Oscar fanfare had calmed. I saw it one night with my cousins while visiting family over in England, and was immediately struck by it's power. I've seen at least one or two times since and am convinced of it's brilliance. The performances are uniformly superb (especially Casey Affleck) and the screenplay is terrific, but what separates this film is that the sincerity rings true. You get this sense of the people and their shared history together, the weight of all the years, the familial connections, the tensions that exist between them. Also, as a study of grief and depression, it is largely unmatched. Kenneth Lonergan's work as writer-director here is that of someone in touch with the inherently dramatic possibilities of a human story.
(Picture credit: TeePublic.com)
#18 - The Planet of the Apes reboot trilogy (Rupert Wyatt/Matt Reeves, 2011/2014/2017)
This is my first cheat, but with good reason! You see, for all I rant on and give off about franchises, I am not opposed to them when done well. Although being a fan of the original series, I was against a reboot (especially with mo-cap replacing the classic makeup), Rise of the Planet of the Apes won me over, especially with the performance of Andy Serkis. From there, we went onto Dawn, which is the most accessible of the trilogy, ticking all the boxes, and it made a forkload of cash. The series reached it's climax with War, and I have to say, I can't recall seeing a summer blockbuster as dark and with such wanton chaos and destruction. Literally, there were children in tears a few rows in front of me. As a whole though, this trilogy, the story of Caesar, is for me the standard bearer of how you do a contemporary franchise: it has the popcorn entertainment, the technology is ground-breaking and artistic, it hits all the right emotional beats, and furthermore, it actually has to something to say about society and the world we're living in. Now that Disney has the rights due to the acquisition of 21st Century Fox in April 2019, it's doubtful we'll get anything more of this standard, but we still have this trio of wonders for which we should be very grateful. I know I am!
#17 - Black Swan (Darren Aronofsky, 2010)
Compiling this list and putting it together was a lot harder than I expected. That being said, I'm usually fairly decisive as regards to opinions and aesthetics. However, when I went to take my dog a walk around the block, out of the longlist of fifty-one, there was one movie I came back to: Black Swan. I'd been mulling it over and couldn't get the damn thing out of my head. As I do my best thinking while exercising, walking or in some form of motion, I decided to reappraise and watch the film for the first time in many years, and my word, it is still potent. Natalie Portman's performance as Nina is astonishing, and Darren Aronofsky's audio-visual aesthetic, from the DV cinematography by Matthew Libatique, Matthew Weisblum's editing and the combination of Clint Mansell's score, original work by The Chemical Brothers and Tchaikovsky's own Swan Lake, make Black Swan a ride like no other. It is relentless and really gets under your skin (the stuff about physical decay and doubles was freaking me out!) in a subtly suggestive fashion. Although I think I saw it originally as a thriller, I can't help but see this psychological unravelling of a ballet dancer striving towards perfection as anything but a horror. Stands up strong.
#16 - I, Daniel Blake (Ken Loach, 2016)
A film which sparked fierce debate within the United Kingdom, the negative criticism levelled towards I, Daniel Blake is that it presented an unrealistic portrayal of the benefits system in Britain. Regardless of what one thinks about the film's politics (it should be said for brevity's sake that I largely agree), what stood out for me first and foremost was it's depiction of people and the concerns of their everyday lives. The titular Daniel Blake, played by Dave Johns, forms a bond with young mother Katie Morgan, played by Hayley Squires, and it's hard not to sympathise with these people banding together as they struggle to get by. Although it is an allegorical work with a deeply entrenched socio-political message, the simplicity of director Ken Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty's approach, focusing on the little things to tell a big story, is quietly and profoundly moving.
#15 - Nightcrawler (Dan Gilroy, 2014)
There have been many works that have been described 'the film of our time' in other lists summing up the 2010s. However, for me, Nightcrawler is the one I feel fits the bill. Protagonist Lou Bloom, sensationally played by Jake Gyllenhaal in his best performance to date (and disgustingly overlooked at that year's Academy Awards), in another time would be a down-and-outer with no prospects, but despite his obvious derangements and being a selfish, amoral sociopath, in this day and age he's provided the ways and means to flourish. Writer-director Dan Gilroy shows us that in this world obsessed by the media, pop culture and consumerism, these people have the opportunity to succeed. It's razor-sharp satire and black comedy masquerading as prototypical genre thriller, albeit an at times nerve-wracking and very frightening one. Since it has come out, I have seen it at on at least three or four more occasions, and I see something new every time. Not only is it a real treat, but it has something to say.
#14 - The Irishman (Martin Scorsese, 2019)
I covered Martin Scorsese's The Irishman at length in my last blog post, and putting it up against the rest of the best of the 2010s it stands head-and-shoulders among that class. An epic that likes of which only a great master such as Scorsese could pull, the ensemble cast, especially Pesci, are on point, the script by Steve Zaillian is a masterclass in world-building, and Thelma Schoonmaker's editing keeps the piece watertight. Furthermore, it touches upon a meditative and melancholic note. Scorsese and company contemplating the meaning of what all these people's lives amount to when all's said and done. For all the robust running time it flies in, and the note it ends upon lingers long after the credits roll. A sensational late-game work, and I feel certainly among the director's finest.
#13 - Blue is the Warmest Colour and Moonlight (Abdellatif Kechiche/Barry Jenkins, 2013/2016)
And here is my second cheat. I've decided to group these two together as, although reluctant to label movies as 'gay cinema,' to me the 2010s marked a significant changing of the guard as far as opening up LGBT culture to a populist audience.
I saw Abdellatif Kechiche's Blue is the Warmest Colour about the same time it was released. Despite having won the Palme d'Or, controversy followed it everywhere over what was considered to be graphic content and onset conflicts. Regardless, bolstered up by the two stunning performances from Adéle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux, Blue is the Warmest Colour is one of the most raw and passionate pieces of cinema you're likely to encounter. It is a beautifully told coming-of-age story about self-discovery, happiness, lust, sadness and all of the other things that come with the emotional rollercoaster that is love. It's a long film, and I've only seen it the once, but it is firmly seared into my memory.
When Moonlight came out, I thought very highly of it, but I placed other films higher when it came to my best and worst of the year. However, in the years since, I've seen it again, and whenever I think about it the film has risen in my estimation. Presenting the character of Chiron at three different (and significant) stages in his life, it's a film exploring the issues he faces with his identity, race, class, masculinity and sexuality. In many ways Chiron is the cipher, the prism through which the young black male, or the audience as a whole, views and observes, sees things from a perspective that is new, fresh and interesting. With a wonderful screenplay and performances, Moonlight stands out as a brisk and exemplar film.
#12 - Inside Out (Pete Docter, 2015)
I loved Inside Out when it was first released and have seen it several times since. It was well into consideration for this list, and I was reminded of being away on holiday with my family over this past Christmas. I think we were all sitting in the same room, my mother flicking through the channels with the remote, and Inside Out came on. It was only the last ten or fifteen minutes, but I realised I could literally sit and watch this film at any time on any day of the week at any point right through to the end. From a conceptual standpoint it is very intelligent, but it's execution is so sweet, funny, charming and endearing, that it's hard not to fall in love with it. Notwithstanding the fact that it is a gorgeous film which treats your senses and make you feel all warm and fuzzy, it's a moving story about growing up and how we emotionally react in addressing troublesome situations in our life. I absolutely adore it!
#11 - Mad Max: Fury Road (George Miller, 2015)
Earlier on, I said that the Apes films are the standard bearer for franchises. Well, blockbusters will never be the same after Mad Max: Fury Road. Stripping down the narrative to the barest essentials, it does that most rare thing in cinema successfully, which is to tell the whole story on the move, or in this case, on the road. Most action movies have these big sequences, and then they'll stop and go, "uh, we need a bit of plot here." Fury Road does not do that, and it refuses to let go from start to finish. The choreography and stunt work is among some of the best ever seen. It is a work of technical wizardry, and manages in the midst of all this pandemonium to tell an effective story of survival and the hero's journey (both Tom Hardy's Max and Charlize Theron's Furiosa go on their own voyages of discovery) with an ecological and feministic slant. George Miller is an incredible taskmaster, and that he manages to control all the separate strands and strings, pull them off successfully and simultaneously is nothing short of remarkable. It is the great action movie of our times.
#10 - Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve, 2017)
To say I had low expectations for Blade Runner 2049 would be an understatement. Despite the principals involved, I revere the original Blade Runner, and felt that any sequel to Ridley Scott's classic, thirty-five years after the fact, would be needless and perfunctory. But, as with the recent Apes trilogy, I was glad to be proven wrong. The ensemble cast are uniformly strong, and from the standpoint of pure production it is a wonder. The production design, visual effects and cinematography are of a level beyond virtually every other live-action film in recent memory, and the score by Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch gives it a stirring aural identity distinctive from that of Vangelis whilst still being respectful of the past. That statement there more or less sums up much of how Blade Runner 2049 succeeds: it's a movie that knows it's history, and yet does not bog itself too deep in it. Along with screenwriters Michael Green and the returning Hampton Fancher, Denis Villeneuve (one of the great directorial visionaries of his time) moulds a story that simply begs to be seen. "You newer models are happy scraping the shit... because you've never seen a miracle." Blade Runner 2049 is just that.
#9 - Gravity (Alfonso Cuarón, 2013)
Director Alfonso Cuaron has only made three films over the past fifteen years, but as I'm concerned he can take as long as he damn well pleases! He is an artist of true authorial intent, and every time he crops up he gives us something interesting. Gravity is a cinematic experience like no other. In similar fashion to Mad Max: Fury Road, it is a simple story, raw and stripped-down, of Sandra Bullock's Dr. Ryan Stone battling against adversity in space after debris destroys her and her crew's shuttle mid-mission. While we are taken on this nerve-wracking, white-knuckle adrenaline ride just over ninety minutes long, we gather all of this information surrounding her and her backstory. Gravity is a paradox, in that it is an exemplar piece of compressed filmmaking but also a big, big technical marvel. The great DP Emmanuel Lubezki, who won three Academy Award in the 2010s (including for this picture) and, for me, is the best cinematographer of this generation, combines his keen eye with the extraordinary CGI, delivering a visual splendour like no other, and the same can be said for the sound design and original score by Steven Price. Every time I see it I am taken in by it's sheer intensity, and uplifted by the message of hope it gives for humanity.
#8 - Joker (Todd Phillips, 2019)
When I wrote an article upon Joker's release, I described as a dangerous and subversive film. I still stand by that statement. While obviously I am aware of the connotations behind that kind of rhetoric, I chose to use words like this to emphasise that this is the kind of game changer that, through the challenging perspective presented, opens up the playing field and starts a new conversation about how we address mental health issues, societal problems and political discontent. Filtered through the character of Arthur Fleck, in a transcendent performance by Joaquin Phoenix, who I think will and should win the Academy Award for Best Actor, everything about the production (the evocative orchestral strings, for instance, of Hildur Guðnadóttir) is channelled towards this end which, though provocative in approach and aesthetic, is compassionate. Controversial it may be, but Todd Phillips' picture is a self-assured depthcharge of filmmaking with clear intent, which penetrates through to the core. I was really bowled over by it, and I feel it will last the test of time.
#7 - The Turin Horse (Béla Tarr/Ágnes Hranitsky, 2011)
I would not hesitate in making the claim that The Turin Horse is probably the most divisive film on this list. I went to see it upon initial release with a friend, and while I sat enraptured for the two-and-a-half hour running time, he absolutely hated it, and I can totally understand why. It is a dreary, ponderous work of desolation and despair on, in director Béla Tarr's words, "the heaviness of human existence," consisting largely of long takes in wordless silence, only interrupted by the music of Mihály Vig, consisting of one piece that I can only be describe as a depressed carousel on a loop. While that may not sell you on the film, despite all these arguments to the contrary it is a strange and fascinating piece, unique, entrancing, hypnotic and enigmatic. Fred Keleman's beautiful black-and-white photography, with it's immaculate framing, is like portraiture in motion, as we follow these characters through the tedium and repetitive monotony of their day-to-day lives. It reminds me of something Tarkovsky said about the long take ("If the regular length of a shot becomes increased, one becomes bored, but if you keep making it longer, it piques your interest, and if you make it even longer, a new quality emerges, a special intensity of attention."). The now-retired Béla Tarr was a filmmaker like no other, and this is one of his very best.
#6 - The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (Isao Takahata, 2013)
It must be said right off the bat that I am a fan of Studio Ghibli. While by no means a completist, their films have given me some of the greatest joys I have been privileged to experience as someone who loves this medium. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, the final film by the late Isao Takahata, is no exception. Based on the 10th-century monogatari (literary form of traditional Japanese literature) The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, a bamboo cutter discovers within a shoot a little girl who he and his wife raise as their own, nicknaming her Takenoko (Little Bamboo) on account of her diminutive size and rapid growth. Steeped in folklore, myth and legend, the film is a delight, with it's distinctive watercolour-based visual style and Joe Hisaishi's soaring delight of a score. Also, although it is a fantasy, ultimately it is the humanity Takahata and all involved inject it with which elevates it to that higher level. I can remember watching it for the first time and for much of the last section of the film (especially the ending) being in a continuous flood of tears. It's such a sweet film and really endearing, a beautiful work of art, and a testament to the legacy of Takahata. Thank you, Paku-san!
#5 - Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011)
When I first saw Drive, I was very impressed by it, but felt there were a number of films I reviewed that year which were better all round. Well, put it this way, fast forward a few years and none of the three which I rated higher feature in this particular article. That's not to discredit them, it's just the way things go. Drive is a film which has risen exponentially in my estimation. Ryan Gosling's Driver is a subtly brilliant spin on the heroic knight in shining armour archetype, and the way the whole thing unfolds feels like a dark fairy tale unfolding under neon lights, "shimmering neon lights, and at the fall of night, this city's made of lights." The soundtrack, both original and orchestral, gives it a unique vibe both retro and futuristic, and the visual presentation, especially in relation to the juxtaposition of serene beauty and extreme violence, is simply stunning. Although I tend to view Nic Winding Refn's recent work in a more positive light than others, he has still failed to top this. It ticks all the boxes as far as being a poppy, pulp genre thriller, and yet manages to transcend surface-level genre trappings. It is a romance and journey of self-discovery. I think it is the most influential film of the decade, as it's aesthetic(s) seemed to define the 2010s across all art forms. We saw this more and more of this penetration into the consciousness of pop culture as time went on. This cannot be denied, and I don't think I can give it a bigger ringing endorsement than that.
#4 - Victoria (Sebastian Schipper, 2015)
I think with all the talk made in the past number of years (and recently) about other similar one-shot movies, or those designed as such, it is somewhat apropos that I cast my mind back to Victoria. It was one of those films I heard murmurings about from various people, almost spoken in whispers, shrouded in secrecy and mystery. This is the real deal, and it has to be seen to be believed. Following the titular Victoria, a sympathetic protagonist played magnificent by Laia Costa, we follow her and a group of individuals over the course of one night in Berlin in real-time, and the simple execution of the thing, from the staging to the cinematography, is astonishing. Regardless of the feat in and of itself (not to disregard the accomplishment), what strikes most about Victoria is you completely lose yourself in the story and care about what these characters are going through. This is helped no end by Nils Frahm's score, which immerses you further into the atmosphere and mood conjured. It is of a reactive nature, almost improvisatory, that is reflective of the film itself, in that, although tightly constructed, it has this aspect of spontaneity, a feeling of realism often lacking in other pictures. During the course of research for this article, I found the full movie online to stream, and I kind of dottered about and watched the opening 'scene' in the nightclub, realising I could quite easily sit and watch the full thing. What Sebastian Schipper creates sucks you in, and it is thoroughly engaging and moving.
#3 - Boyhood (Richard Linklater, 2014)
I have long been a fan of Richard Linklater, a director who I feel not only has several masterpieces to his name, but is also always willing to try something different. In that respect, with Boyhood he went over and above. Filmed over a period of twelve years between 2001 and 2013, it follows the lives of young Mason, his sister Samantha, and their divorced parents Olivia and Mason Sr. as time passes by. The film reflects the often-improvisatory nature of Linklater's approach, in that the script was malleable and fluid, incorporating the real-life experiences of the actors and changing as filming went on. This filters across into the actual picture itself, and what we get is this impression not of an epic coming-of-age story (which it most definitely is!), but that of being a fly on the wall, observing life as it unfolds in the most natural way. While lacking some of the panache, razz-dazz and flash of other films out there and, indeed, some of the films on this list, the understated richness of it's texture cannot be overlooked. The performances by the four principals (Ellar Coltrane, Lorelei Linklater, Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke) are sincere, it's a wonderfully put together work editorially through Sandra Adair's subtle cutting, and with Richard Linklater at the helm we are in safe hands. There are moments in this film which are universal, ringing true in their familiarity, which get me every time.
#2 - The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer, 2012)
As you can perhaps tell by the last few entries on this list (and several others), I'm a sucker for high-concept art and big ideas, those works that are bold and audacious from the very foundation. No film released in the 2010s pushed the boundaries, the envelope, set the bar higher, than Joshua Oppenheimer's documentary film The Act of Killing. In Indonesian, the film's title, Jagal, means 'Butcher,' keying into the filmmaker's subject, that of the Indonesian Genocide in the mid-1960s. What is most frightening, though, is that in documenting the individuals involved in perpetrating these state-sanctioned murders, Oppenheimer encourages them to create re-enactments of their own killings. In another filmmaker's hands, it would be an outrageous piece of exploitation, but Oppenheimer drills through, boring a hole into the core of what he is driving at, in that, in a somewhat bizarre, absurd, surreal, skewed and at times even funny way, he encourages these people to confront their actions and their feelings in a more honest fashion than would otherwise be possible. I first saw it in the Queen's Film Theatre and walked out of the cinema completely shell-shocked. So passionate I felt about this film and how it shone a light on one of the unfortunate blights and overlooked moments in history that I contacted the film's UK distributor Dogwoof, established an online connection with Oppenheimer (who was lovely and provided a number of helpful items, clearly passionate about getting the word out there about these injustices), and presented my own screening of the film at the former Warzone Centre in Bruce Street, Belfast. I believe the screener I received was the first time I saw the full Director's Cut, and it further cemented my love for the film. I've seen it several times since, and, along with it's companion piece The Look of Silence, it's a devastating, powerful and important piece of cinema that is not to be missed.
#1 - Toy Story 3 (Lee Unkrich, 2010)
And here we have it! My number one film of the 2010s is none other than Toy Story 3. From all the way back in 2010 at the start of the decade, this film has stayed with me as the high standard by which all other contemporary works are to be judged. Anyone who knows me knows my love for this film knows no boundaries and I will gush at length about it's brilliance. I went to see this at my favourite cinema, the former Strand Cinema, now the Strand Arts Centre, with my friend Daniel Kelly, and it was a wonderful experience. Talking about it after, I forget who fessed up in what order, but it ended up coming out that as I was facing away to one side crying, he was doing the exact same thing on the opposite side. That's not to say that you spend the whole thing like a weeping wreck (although I do do a fair amount of that). Toy Story 3 is also one of the funniest films you're ever likely to come across. Michael Arndt collaborates with returning Pixar personnel to incorporate some of his approach to this film, bringing to the table his fine balance of comedy and drama while keeping in with the spirt of the previous two Toy Story films. It's intelligent comedy with sharp, smart dialogue, and there are things in it that are so outrageously and gut-bustingly funny that I end up in stitches, like legitimate pain. The voice cast are a credit too to that all round. It's all well and good having these words on a written page, but without the work of these actors giving their gusto and putting their heart and soul into it, you simply wouldn't be able to buy it. That's one of the thing that sets Pixar at their best apart: passion. These people believe in what they are doing, the animators and everyone involved working hand over foot to give the audiences something wonderful, joyous and spellbinding. In ten years of reviewing films from 2007-2016 it was the only film I ever gave a 'Perfect 10.' This story about growing up, moving on, friendship and so much more, which I saw at the age of eighteen, still touches my heart a decade on in a way that no other film could manage. Everything from the ground up (shout-out to Randy Newman for his cracking score, and the recently-retired Lee Unkrich as directorial anchor. I hope you're having a wonderful time with your family, Mr. Unkrich. You deserve it.) just works. It is for me not only the greatest film of the 2010s, but also the greatest film of the 21st century thus far, and certainly among the greatest films of all time. I put it right in there alongside the very rare pictures on a high pedestal at the cream of the crop. I love it, I love it, I love it. What Pixar has done for the industry and cinema as an art form cannot be overstated, and this is their magnum opus. I shout it from the rooftops, "A thousand thanks, my friends!"
And there ye go! That was my top twenty films of the 2010s. As I have said on numerous occasions, although I have some issues with contemporary cinema, I re-iterate once again that, as evidenced by the films here, that cinema, far from being on a downward spiral, is alive and kicking. It'll be interesting to see where things go moving forward into the 2020s and the lay of the land in ten years time. As it stands, for all the changes going on and how I feel cinema to be in a period of real transition, I think it'll be in a positive place. In that, I have faith.
