I am not qualified to speak about the “best” films of 2018, because I have seen only a tiny handful of the myriad, wonderful films that released this year. I wish this were not the case. I wish I could say I’d seen every worthy film, from Shoplifters to Eighth Grade, Sorry to Bother You to Leave No Trace. But the truth is, I haven’t. I am a student and a freelance writer, and I do not have the time nor the disposable income that would allow me have a comprehensive knowledge of 2018 in film; the films I have seen are disproportionately American. But I still would like to share my favorite films of the year, however incomplete my filmic experience has been, and however much my feelings might change as I continue to absorb 2018’s cinema in the new year.
So, here is my woefully incomplete portrait of a year that, for all its political toxicity and global violence, at least offered up some great movies.
I’ll be doing my best to add one new entry on each of the last five days of this year, and on the first five days of the next.
10. Hereditary
Hereditary is equal parts shocking and silly, subversive and reverent. When it first released, I wrote that it was “a film capable of terrifying its contemporary audiences thanks to its audacity and newness, but [one] that will likely not age into the status of a true horror masterpiece.” That sentiment may hold true, but it does nothing to keep Hereditary off of my 2018 top ten list, because all these months later, that first theatrical viewing remains vividly imprinted upon my psyche. This is a film capable of evoking cold emptiness and bewildered laughter, a breadth of effect rarely attempted, let alone pulled off with such spine-tingling grace. My initial thoughts on the film can be found here.
9. The Little Stranger
When I reviewed The Little Stranger for the Inlander, I noted that “even as it defies classification and meanders between typical genre bounds, it self-assuredly, non-obviously constructs a chilling psychological examination that leaves an impression.” This isn’t a film that’s gotten much of any buzz this awards season, and in my mind it has been criminally underrated. Lenny Abrahamson’s Room follow-up is an intricately composed period piece/ghost story whose effectiveness hinges on its beautifully ominous setting. It’s a gambit that pays dividends, as the result is an immersive, slow-burning treat that stands toe-to-toe with the year’s best.
8. A Star is Born
At first, I hesitated to include A Star is Born on this list. It’s formulaic and considered by some to be a regressively non-feminist take on a story that could have easily lent more agency to its wonderfully acted female protagonist. But when push comes to shove, this is a list of my favorite films of 2018, and damn, did A Star is Born dazzle me. In many ways, this film lives and dies by its embodiment of modernized, classical Hollywood filmmaking. It’s schmaltzy, but utterly engrossing; shamelessly tear-jerking, but unquestionably evocative; it succeeds by calling back to simpler times, even as it depicts those times crumbling, giving birth to a brighter future. It’s either hypocritical or cleverly prescient, depending on how you look at it. But regardless of its intentions, when you’re sitting in the theatre, it’s tough not to eat up A Star is Born.
7. Isle of Dogs
Wes Anderson is a visionary, but he can hardly be called an innovator. Isle of Dogs is no exception to that rule, but it, alongside 2013’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, marks what is likely the apex of the director’s career. Anderson’s latest is a semi-fantastical (or at the very least slightly nuts) incantation of childlike wonder. It’s an absolute joy from start to finish, drawing on all of the director’s best qualities (his penchant for quirky, memorable characters played pitch-perfectly by big stars, his symmetrical visual majesty, his imaginative narrative zeal) and none of his worst (obnoxious overutilization of his particular blend of techniques) to create an experience akin to a delightful audiovisual bedtime story enjoyable for just about anyone.
6. First Reformed
First Reformed is a quiet movie. After an opening title sequence that calls to mind those of another time, the film settles its focus with laser-like precision on Reverend Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke, in one of the year’s most effectively understated performances) as he finds himself suddenly in the midst of a religious reckoning. There’s a strong hint of Taxi Driver (whose screenplay First Reformed director Paul Schrader wrote) in First Reformed: both films are meticulous examinations of a quiet man’s unraveling psyche. But this is a film of our times through and through, unflinching as it explores the implications of global catastrophe on the mind of man. This is a methodical film, an angry film, a dark film, a great film.
5. BlacKkKlansman
Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman inspires riotous laughter and cautious alarm in equal measure. Topher Grace’s portrayal of Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard David Duke provides a solid microcosm of the film’s gamut-running nature: he is simultaneously amusing and menacing, provoking viewers to laugh, and then to shake their heads in disbelief. This true tale of a black policeman’s vocal infiltration of a local KKK chapter prods boldly at questions of race, religion, identity, and acceptance based on one’s ability — or lack thereof — to hide whichever of their qualities society has deemed undesirable. Stocked with some of the year’s most affecting images and most memorable cinematic moments, BlacKkKlansman is an uncomfortably relevant product of Spike Lee’s one-of-a-kind vision.
4. Free Solo
I knew how Free Solo was going to end, and yet from the start, I was captivated. I suppose that’s the mark of many great films chronicling well-known human achievements, but Free Solo feels a magnitude more intense than your typical sports documentary. I was fascinated by the mind-boggling technical details of Alex Honnold’s ropeless ascent up Yosemite’s El Capitan, and was biting my nails as he made the climactic climb, but over the film’s course I found myself compelled by what was going on inside Honnold’s head even more than by what he was (somehow) grasping in his hands. By its end, Free Solo has offered profound insight not just into spartan athleticism, but also into the mental tribulations of the extraordinary, unusual individual with the mental fortitude to grasp it.
3. Annihilation
Alex Garland’s feature film debut Ex Machina glinted with a cerebral sheen that suggested the coming of a great science-fiction poet, but it was not until the release of this year’s Annihilation that the director truly came into his own. Billed as a Natalie Portman-headed alien action film and dumped in the February release dead zone, this underappreciated gem is primed as an initially overlooked sci-fi magnum opus a la Blade Runner. But the questions Annihilation asks, and the dark, complex mental states it explores, are even more novel and nebulous than those of Ridley Scott’s cult classic, and the film’s bold, inventive visual storytelling raises neck hairs and keeps neurons firing long after the end credits roll. No film in recent memory can more aptly be called “terrifyingly beautiful.”
2. Roma
I cannot imagine Roma existing in any medium other than cinema. Alfonso Cuarón’s period snapshot of subservient life in Mexico City, grounded in the nation’s social unrest of the 1970s, is aesthetically beautiful and masterfully directed. It feels intimate while also evoking the enormity and universality of life and loss, and Cuarón employs every tool at his disposal in order to achieve this effect: Roma is filmed in stunning black and white, and the camera frequently lingers at a distance from the characters, absorbing the frame’s action but not interfering with it; music is sparse, so the sounds of the film's world fill the empty aural space; the performances, including Yalitza Aparicio’s magnetic debut, flesh out Cuarón’s realistic, multifaceted characters. This is the product of a filmmaker with a meticulous attention to detail and the confidence and distinctiveness of a true auteur at the peak of his game.
1. The Favourite
Yorgos Lanthimos is among the most fascinating directors working today. His bizarre, alienating style has already worked across a myriad of genres — from the quirky dramedy of The Lobster to the slow-burn horror of The Killing of a Sacred Deer, to name the two most recent examples — and with The Favourite, the Greek director again tackles something entirely new: the period comedy. The Favourite is the first film Lanthimos has directed and not written, and the result is a definite shift in feel. Gone are the intentionally stilted dialogue and the vague, semi-fantastical elements; still here are the director’s penchant for memorable visuals, and for turning small oddities into moments that run the gamut from amusing to disturbing. And new to Lanthimos’ wheelhouse this time around: three brilliant performances by a trio of women whose sharp-witted, fire-tongued triangular dynamic anchors the narrative. This film upends expectations and keeps its viewers in an electric vice grip from start to finish. It is as delightfully nasty as its three leads, as unique and trailblazing as its director, and nothing like its traditional premise might have you expect. The Favourite will bite you, the wound will leave a scar, and that scar will make you giggle and cringe as you recall its origin.
So, here is my woefully incomplete portrait of a year that, for all its political toxicity and global violence, at least offered up some great movies.
I’ll be doing my best to add one new entry on each of the last five days of this year, and on the first five days of the next.
10. Hereditary
Hereditary is equal parts shocking and silly, subversive and reverent. When it first released, I wrote that it was “a film capable of terrifying its contemporary audiences thanks to its audacity and newness, but [one] that will likely not age into the status of a true horror masterpiece.” That sentiment may hold true, but it does nothing to keep Hereditary off of my 2018 top ten list, because all these months later, that first theatrical viewing remains vividly imprinted upon my psyche. This is a film capable of evoking cold emptiness and bewildered laughter, a breadth of effect rarely attempted, let alone pulled off with such spine-tingling grace. My initial thoughts on the film can be found here.
9. The Little Stranger
When I reviewed The Little Stranger for the Inlander, I noted that “even as it defies classification and meanders between typical genre bounds, it self-assuredly, non-obviously constructs a chilling psychological examination that leaves an impression.” This isn’t a film that’s gotten much of any buzz this awards season, and in my mind it has been criminally underrated. Lenny Abrahamson’s Room follow-up is an intricately composed period piece/ghost story whose effectiveness hinges on its beautifully ominous setting. It’s a gambit that pays dividends, as the result is an immersive, slow-burning treat that stands toe-to-toe with the year’s best.
8. A Star is Born
At first, I hesitated to include A Star is Born on this list. It’s formulaic and considered by some to be a regressively non-feminist take on a story that could have easily lent more agency to its wonderfully acted female protagonist. But when push comes to shove, this is a list of my favorite films of 2018, and damn, did A Star is Born dazzle me. In many ways, this film lives and dies by its embodiment of modernized, classical Hollywood filmmaking. It’s schmaltzy, but utterly engrossing; shamelessly tear-jerking, but unquestionably evocative; it succeeds by calling back to simpler times, even as it depicts those times crumbling, giving birth to a brighter future. It’s either hypocritical or cleverly prescient, depending on how you look at it. But regardless of its intentions, when you’re sitting in the theatre, it’s tough not to eat up A Star is Born.
7. Isle of Dogs
Wes Anderson is a visionary, but he can hardly be called an innovator. Isle of Dogs is no exception to that rule, but it, alongside 2013’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, marks what is likely the apex of the director’s career. Anderson’s latest is a semi-fantastical (or at the very least slightly nuts) incantation of childlike wonder. It’s an absolute joy from start to finish, drawing on all of the director’s best qualities (his penchant for quirky, memorable characters played pitch-perfectly by big stars, his symmetrical visual majesty, his imaginative narrative zeal) and none of his worst (obnoxious overutilization of his particular blend of techniques) to create an experience akin to a delightful audiovisual bedtime story enjoyable for just about anyone.
6. First Reformed
First Reformed is a quiet movie. After an opening title sequence that calls to mind those of another time, the film settles its focus with laser-like precision on Reverend Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke, in one of the year’s most effectively understated performances) as he finds himself suddenly in the midst of a religious reckoning. There’s a strong hint of Taxi Driver (whose screenplay First Reformed director Paul Schrader wrote) in First Reformed: both films are meticulous examinations of a quiet man’s unraveling psyche. But this is a film of our times through and through, unflinching as it explores the implications of global catastrophe on the mind of man. This is a methodical film, an angry film, a dark film, a great film.
5. BlacKkKlansman
Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman inspires riotous laughter and cautious alarm in equal measure. Topher Grace’s portrayal of Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard David Duke provides a solid microcosm of the film’s gamut-running nature: he is simultaneously amusing and menacing, provoking viewers to laugh, and then to shake their heads in disbelief. This true tale of a black policeman’s vocal infiltration of a local KKK chapter prods boldly at questions of race, religion, identity, and acceptance based on one’s ability — or lack thereof — to hide whichever of their qualities society has deemed undesirable. Stocked with some of the year’s most affecting images and most memorable cinematic moments, BlacKkKlansman is an uncomfortably relevant product of Spike Lee’s one-of-a-kind vision.
4. Free Solo
I knew how Free Solo was going to end, and yet from the start, I was captivated. I suppose that’s the mark of many great films chronicling well-known human achievements, but Free Solo feels a magnitude more intense than your typical sports documentary. I was fascinated by the mind-boggling technical details of Alex Honnold’s ropeless ascent up Yosemite’s El Capitan, and was biting my nails as he made the climactic climb, but over the film’s course I found myself compelled by what was going on inside Honnold’s head even more than by what he was (somehow) grasping in his hands. By its end, Free Solo has offered profound insight not just into spartan athleticism, but also into the mental tribulations of the extraordinary, unusual individual with the mental fortitude to grasp it.
3. Annihilation
Alex Garland’s feature film debut Ex Machina glinted with a cerebral sheen that suggested the coming of a great science-fiction poet, but it was not until the release of this year’s Annihilation that the director truly came into his own. Billed as a Natalie Portman-headed alien action film and dumped in the February release dead zone, this underappreciated gem is primed as an initially overlooked sci-fi magnum opus a la Blade Runner. But the questions Annihilation asks, and the dark, complex mental states it explores, are even more novel and nebulous than those of Ridley Scott’s cult classic, and the film’s bold, inventive visual storytelling raises neck hairs and keeps neurons firing long after the end credits roll. No film in recent memory can more aptly be called “terrifyingly beautiful.”
2. Roma
I cannot imagine Roma existing in any medium other than cinema. Alfonso Cuarón’s period snapshot of subservient life in Mexico City, grounded in the nation’s social unrest of the 1970s, is aesthetically beautiful and masterfully directed. It feels intimate while also evoking the enormity and universality of life and loss, and Cuarón employs every tool at his disposal in order to achieve this effect: Roma is filmed in stunning black and white, and the camera frequently lingers at a distance from the characters, absorbing the frame’s action but not interfering with it; music is sparse, so the sounds of the film's world fill the empty aural space; the performances, including Yalitza Aparicio’s magnetic debut, flesh out Cuarón’s realistic, multifaceted characters. This is the product of a filmmaker with a meticulous attention to detail and the confidence and distinctiveness of a true auteur at the peak of his game.
1. The Favourite
Yorgos Lanthimos is among the most fascinating directors working today. His bizarre, alienating style has already worked across a myriad of genres — from the quirky dramedy of The Lobster to the slow-burn horror of The Killing of a Sacred Deer, to name the two most recent examples — and with The Favourite, the Greek director again tackles something entirely new: the period comedy. The Favourite is the first film Lanthimos has directed and not written, and the result is a definite shift in feel. Gone are the intentionally stilted dialogue and the vague, semi-fantastical elements; still here are the director’s penchant for memorable visuals, and for turning small oddities into moments that run the gamut from amusing to disturbing. And new to Lanthimos’ wheelhouse this time around: three brilliant performances by a trio of women whose sharp-witted, fire-tongued triangular dynamic anchors the narrative. This film upends expectations and keeps its viewers in an electric vice grip from start to finish. It is as delightfully nasty as its three leads, as unique and trailblazing as its director, and nothing like its traditional premise might have you expect. The Favourite will bite you, the wound will leave a scar, and that scar will make you giggle and cringe as you recall its origin.
Glad to hear Free Solo caught your attention so much! I'll have to watch it, can't wait for entries 3,2,1 on this list!
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