50. “Foxcatcher” (2014)
If you had to pick one word to characterize the nauseating, atmospheric nightmare that is Bennett Miller’s “Foxcatcher,” haunting wouldn’t cause foul. Falling in line with Miller’s penchant for crafting superb character-driven works of nonfiction, “Foxcatcher” shimmered in the limelight for a time—the movie was nominated for five Academy Awards and won Best Director at Cannes in 2014—before it was summarily swept away by the wind and suddenly undeservingly forgotten. Thankfully, not everyone disregarded this overlooked masterpiece, that features transformative performances—Steve Carrell and Channing Tatum are unrecognizable, both figuratively and literally—and establishes a distinctly unnerving ambience that lingers in your mind like a decaying pathogen. On a technical level, Miller’s crime-drama boasts immaculate direction and visual flair, which is only boosted by E. Max Frye and Dan Futterman’s top-tier screenplay that encourages immersive performances from Carrell, Tatum, and a career best from Mark Ruffalo. Beyond any doubt or question, “Foxcatcher” and its chilling look at American exceptionalism deserves to be regarded as one of the best films of the decade. – JC
49. “Killing Them Softly” (2012)
Andrew Dominik’s righteously indignant follow-up to “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” was a mouthy, unthinkably brutal, and unapologetically masculine underworld saga with on-the-nose political overtones. Ahead of its time, and much more prescient than we could imagine, “Killing Them Softly” drew sharply divided critical reactions in its day, going so far as to earn the coveted “F” kiss-of-death Cinemascore rating. And yet, time has been kind to Dominik’s cynical, savagely funny and angry picture. In the era of Trump, Dominik’s rage doesn’t seem quite so outsized and out of place and clearly the filmmaker wasn’t fooled by the glimmer of hope the Obama years splashed on America. Like ‘Jesse James,’ “Killing Them Softly” is a loquacious and languid film. With no real plot to speak of—other than calling in a hitman to off the schmucks who robbed a card game with surprising ease—it doesn’t matter one iota. Peppering instances of bloodshed, comedy and horror in between scenes where actors such as Brad Pitt, James Gandolfini, Richard Jenkins, Ben Mendelsohn, and Scoot McNairy chew on the florid, in Dominik’s hands, the pungently scummy dialogue of the great crime writer George V. Higgins hisses and sings on-screen. Viscerally, it’s deadly — the scene where Ray Liotta’s luckless lowlife gets pummeled into mince meat in the pouring rain is just painfully unmerciful, the falling-out-of-consciousnessheroin scene inappropriately funny — and it’s not an easy sit for the average viewer, but “Killing Them Softly” holds so much seething potency in retrospect. Plus what other movie from the 2010s has line as viciously truthful as, “America is not a country, it’s just a business. Now fucking pay me.” – NL
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDyaNnrgdp4
48. “Enemy” (2013)
Has there ever been a final shot as nightmarish as the one that ends Denis Villeneuve’s surreal doppelganger drama “Enemy?” We wouldn’t dream of spoiling it for you here, but in a film full of unsettling imagery, the shot that Villeneuve chooses to close his movie with— hauntingly unknowable, yet inexpressibly appropriate — is just bugfuck-nuts. In a decade full of masterfully controlled movies, dripping with dread and anxiety, (“Sicario,” “Incendies”), with “Enemy,” takes a sharp left turn from the grisly procedural vibe in the still-underrated “Prisoners,” and pivots into explicitly uncanny Cronenberg-adjacent territory. “Enemy,” like “Dead Ringers,” is a tale of doubles, in which a repressed college professor in a broken marriage rents a movie, sees a background actor who looks to be his spitting image, and let’s just say that things only get crazier and more untethered from reality from that point on. “Enemy” is also a prime opportunity for Jake Gyllenhaal to flex his versatile dramatic muscles (he plays both buttoned-up suppression and seething malice to perfection), and Nicolas Bolduc’s sickly pale cinematography evokes tremendous subconscious reservoirs of unease, fractured identity, and absolute moral decay. – NL
47. “The Florida Project” (2017)
Refusing to simplify the recursive process in which poverty traumatizes those struck within its endless cycle, Sean Baker’s “The Florida Project” in one of the most humane films of the decade. Eschewing plot for slice-of-life depictions, the film ostensibly follows three children living in run-down Florida motels during their summer break. Most often filtered through six-year Moonee (Brooklynn Prince in a heartbreaking performance), Baker’s film shows the increasingly desperate maneuvers of Moonee’s mother Halley (Bria Vinaite, who Baker found on Instagram) to just stay afloat. The only confidante she has being William Dafoe’s staunch, but ultimately paternalistic motel manager Bobby, who oversees the makeshift community where she lives. Baker’s film is content to linger on the day-to-day goings of the motel occupants, hinting at the larger lives behind these dispossessed and largely marginalized people. “The Florida Project” features not only some of the best child acting put on screen, but Baker’s insistence on mixing professional and non-professional actors together creates one of the most realistic bridge between the real and the fictional. It also doesn’t hurt to have Dafoe, who was Oscar nominated of his performance, bring empathy to a character whose life is so intertwined with these people, that he cannot help but care for these people, despite his best attempts. -Christian Gallichio
46. “Good Time” (2017)
Arguably the foremost neo-realist filmmakers of their time, the heir apparents to Scorsese’s mean streets, brothers Josh and Benny Safdie transform calamity, hustle, and squalor into transfixing visual poetry. The Safdies have made some great movies so far (see the outrageously good “Uncut Gems” that we just don’t have the same distance from yet), but nothing that seethes with the coiled, chafing intensity of “Good Time,” their darkly humorous, whiplash-inducing man-on-the-run flick. The film stars a mesmeric, unrecognizable Robert Pattinson as Queens-born crook Connie Nikas: a man who’s both smarter than he appears to be, and also too stupid to know when to quit. The virtues of “Good Time” are unassailable: Sean Price Williams’ too-close-for-comfort cinematography, Buddy Duress’ star-making turn as an acid-dealing ex-con, the throbbingly sweaty Oneohtrix Point Never score, and the emotionally shattering denouement, among other things. What makes the Safdie’s greatest film to date such an enduring work is its unerring prescience. It’s a film that nimbly addresses touchy, but timely social issues (racial profiling, prison infrastructure), while nevertheless intertwining those conceits with brutal, full-force genre movie thrills. – NL
45. “Wildlife” (2018)
In Paul Dano’s tender, quietly examining, and astonishingly assured directorial debut, a small family in suburban Montana quietly breaks down while raging forest fires close in. Jake Gyllenhaal and Carey Mulligan are Jerry and Jeannette Brinson— he’s just lost his job, and his pride, and she has to take care of the household and their son, Joe (played so softly by newcomer Ed Oxenbould). The strength, here, is in the silence and Dano’s trust in its power. Each member of the family is restless and longing in different ways, and Gyllenhaal and Mulligan are given new challenges to rein in their indomitable skills to capture a storm in a teacup. Mulligan in particular finds a piercing beauty as Jeannette, a woman unravelling and searching for meaning, having spent so long making do with what’s simple, because for everyone else it was what was convenient. The script, co-written by Dano and his partner Zoe Kazan, sharply adapts Richard Ford’s 1990 novel of minute melodrama. It deserves the big screen, and Dano directs it with immaculate craft, lightning precision and always careful nostalgia. Joe has a part-time job as a photographer’s assistant, and this detail matters to the viewer – because by the time the shutter closes in and there’s the threat of a flash, after everything this family has been through, it truly feels blinding. – EK
44. “Before Midnight” (2013)
As eclectic as he can be in taste, Richard Linklater, at his core, has always been a searcher in pursuit of an emotional truth. He loves his characters, and he’s generally willing to follow them wherever they go. Over several years, if need be, patient enough to see how they may blossom and evolve over the years—the filmmaker’s understanding of time and how it shapes us as humans, his greatest secret weapon. So, it makes sense that one of the better films from this last leg of the Texas auteur’s career is “Before Midnight,” the wistful and beautifully bittersweet final (for now) chapter in the director’s storied ‘Before’ trilogy. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy had been playing these characters for almost twenty years before this twilight chapter was released, and their history on-screen is tangible, painfully real, and impossibly tender. Linklater understands that within the thorny, complicated union of marriage; the contempt that breeds through familiarity, but the constant security, upkeep, care and nourishment it needs. And in Linklater’s emotionally messy movie, funny and vibrant and uncomfortably strained, love has been worn down by time. Just when you think this relationship’s run out of road, the marvelously intimate “Before Midnight” calls a convincing truce between two partners, and gently reveals a new path forward. – NL
43. “12 Years a Slave” (2013)
An artist at heart, director Steve McQueen is not here to entertain you; there’s a human condition to be explored. Whether he’s depicting agonizing physical debilitation (“Hunger”) or the private hell of a sex addiction (“Shame”) there’s no denying that McQueen’s films are the opposite of passive viewing experiences. They are pitilessly exacting works that often pummel their viewers into submission, yet still find poignant moments of humanity within the darkness. “12 Years a Slave” is McQueen fearlessly rewriting nearly a century of whitewashed narratives about one of the few remaining taboos in American cinema: slavery. Aside from Brad Pitt’s presumably obligatory cameo (he’s one of the film’s producers), there are no white saviors in this movie. Slavery is depicted for exactly what it was: a dehumanizing process of exploitation that stains our country’s legacy to this day. ‘12 Years’ is perhaps the greatest film ever made about this horrible period in American history, and McQueen summons its awfulness with a commendable lack of sentimentality. Credit should also go to cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, the committed, teeth-gnashing Michael Fassbender and as the magnetic Chiwetel Ejiofor – NL
42. “Amour” (2012)
Austere Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke is not known for a charitable view of people or or being kind toward his characters. Films like “The White Ribbon” and “The Piano Teacher” are severe and alienating: catnip for some viewers, and grueling endurance tests for others. While “Amour” is certainly nobody’s idea of a fun time at the movies, it’s also the closest Mr. Haneke has come to approaching humanism. There’s a hard-won empathy in this extraordinary film largely absent from some of the deliberately button-pushing early efforts. Bruising, yet as close to touching as the filmmaker will likely ever find himself, “Amour” is the result of suffering and watching loved ones rot (to paraphrase Haneke’s experience tending to his withering parents). A deeply unsentimental film about the infirmity that old age unleashes on both our bodies and minds, and in that regard, its austerity is characteristic of late-period Haneke. However, this unexpectedly generous and impeccably assembled film is also about how people care for one another, even in the most dire of circumstances, and how scenarios of extreme duress bring about the best and worst in us all. As aching and distressing as it is, “Amour” as the title suggests, is born from the anguish of love and unquestionably the director’s most humane film. – NL
41. “Annihilation” (2018)
As spectacle and genre dominated the marketplace in the 2010s, studios became increasingly hesitant to take risks on ambitious mid-budget projects. Occasional exceptions managed to slip through the cracks, but none felt as psychologically or commercially challenging as Alex Garland’s mind-bending sophomore existential sci-fi feature “Annihilation.” Cashing in on the goodwill he amassed from “Ex Machina,” Garland followed-up his Oscar-winning debut with Jeff VanderMeer’s notoriously unfilmable novel. Using a deceptively simple premise — the men on a mission story (or in this case, women on a mission) — to mine much more complex themes, the film recalls everything from “The Thing” to “Stalker.” But it’s the films profound depiction of depression and self-destruction that made it such a singular, staggering experience.As Garland suggested at the time, “Annihilation” is about the difficulties of being a person; about facing ourselves, reckoning with our mistakes and the inescapable existential crises we all face: What does it mean to be alive? With “Annihilation,” Garland is shooting for the stars and the ending alone is an absolutely staggering, mind-blowing experience in itself. — MR
