30. Adam Driver “Marriage Story”
If this year has taught us anything, it’s that it is, in fact, Adam Driver’s world: we’re just living in it. In Noah Baumbach’s divorce picture “Marriage Story,” he plays a New York theatre director battling for his son and his city as he splits from Nicole – who he used to cast in all his plays. Driver, alongside Scarlett Johansson as Nicole, carries the entire film. It’s a story of two people, filled with love, responsibility, pride, and all the further positives and negatives that come with. There’s an ocean of praise to be given to his heart-splintering karaoke rendition of Sondheim’s ‘Being Alive’, but Driver’s singular talent is present throughout the film. In the patient conversation he holds with his son, in the frustrated pleas to his lawyers, in the hurricane argument that pushes him to his physical and mental limits within the confines of one blank room. It’s a performance as introspective as it is explosive – one balancing comedy, pain, confusion and hope within the confines of one Tall Man. Perhaps it is the contrast between the broadness of Driver’s frame and the detail in his emotional complexity that makes it so affecting – or maybe it is simply that no one understood “Company”, no one was ever such a thrilling loser at Monopoly, no one could be so open about his heartbreak as Adam Driver. – EK
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIooIlAGShQ
29. Antonio Banderas, “Pain and Glory”
Antonio Banderas is one of those incredible leading men whose versatility we sometimes take for granted. He’s a classic movie star in the old-school sense of the term who can nevertheless play a wide range of roles: who else could play both a skeezy voyeur in Brian De Palma’s under-heralded “Femme Fatale” and also a smooth-talking, mortally fraudulent Panamanian banker in this year’s Steven Soderbergh joint “The Laundromat.” Banderas’ turn in Pedro Almodóvar’s “Pain and Glory” feels like nothing less than the grand culmination of all his screen work to date. The film oscillates between being giddy, wistful, sensual, and utterly crushing: it’s a masterful jumble of time and memory, recalling pastoral passages from the director’s childhood, lamentation over his misunderstood work, and severed relationships the friends, lovers, and family whom he has alienated along his creative journey. Banderas is the anchor that keeps it all grounded: he gives a performance that is by turns wounded, wryly funny, and totally heartbreaking. It’s a confident, seemingly effortless turn, and some of the finest work he’s done with Almodóvar since the glory days of “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” and “Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down!” Banderas is the nucleus of “Pain and Glory,” embodying a man whose glory days are well behind him but whose brushes with pain are very much of the present. Life is but a stage, we are all performers, and in “Pain and Glory,” Antonio Banderas is our guide through the magic and madness of life. – NL
28. Annette Bening, “20th Century Women”
Mother figures tend to loom large in our lives, even (and one might argue especially) when they’re gone. This must have certainly been the case for writer/director Mike Mills (“Thumbsucker,” “Beginners”), who directed his heartwarming human comedy “20th Century Women,” among other things, as a cinematic ode to the woman who raised him. A movie this loose and anecdotal lives and dies on its performances, so Mills had his work cut out for him in that particular field, particularly when it came to casting the uncompromising maternal figure who acts as the fearless leader of the family at the movie’s center. Thank goodness, then, for Annette Bening, who gives one of her all-time great performances as a free-spirited Santa Barbara matriarch without boundaries. Mills tends to get great performances out of his actors, and “20th Century Women” contains superlative work from an ensemble that includes Greta Gerwig, Elle Fanning, and Billy Crudup, so it’s saying something that Bening basically steals the entire movie from under her co-star’s feet. Dorothea Fields is a character who has lived enough for three lifetimes, and Bening brings all of her warmth, grace, and personal history to her portrait of this flawed but remarkable woman. “20th Century Women” is as sunny and curative as a top-down drive down the California coast, and Bening lends the movie an abundant surplus of heart and soul. This one’s up there with her best work. – NL
27. Viola Davis, “Fences”
Adapting the work of renowned playwright August Wilson for the big screen can’t be easy. And to be sure, there were some who felt that Denzel Washington’s adaptation of “Fences” – Wilson’s inimitable dissection of African-American family dynamics in 1950’s America – was too stodgy, too staged, too hampered by the theatrical nature of its source material. And yet, for all the complaints one could lodge against “Fences,” Viola Davis’ performance remains the high point of this flawed and nobly-intentioned drama. Davis has been giving great performances for a while now, in everything from Michael Mann’s “Blackhat” to last year’s slept-on female-led heist thriller “Widows,” but “Fences” might just be her finest actor’s showcase to date. Playing Rose, the long-suffering wife of Washington’s blustery, somewhat abrasive Troy Maxson, Davis effortlessly conveys the internal dilemma of a woman who has long since tired of her husband’s bullshit, but doesn’t know how to stop loving him. The incredible scene where Rose accuses Troy of sleeping with another woman (the way she bellows “I’ve been right here with you” is hard to shake) was probably enough to secure her the Best Supporting Actress Oscar that Davis deservedly won, but “Fences” is full of remarkable, captivatingly humane moments from this one-of-a-kind performer. Throughout the film, Davis channels the anguish and remorse felt by a woman whose biggest regret is standing by her no-good man and putting her own dreams and aspirations on the back burner. It’s a feeling that many viewers, regardless of their own lived experiences, will no doubt be able to relate to. That is the power of a truly great performance. – NL
26. Scarlett Johansson, “Under The Skin”
When critical ink gets spilled over Jonathan Glazer’s “Under The Skin,” it’s usually so that writers can praise the director’s unassailable skill, the film’s conceptual audacity, or the justly acclaimed score by the great Mica Levi. And yet, we would argue that not enough credit goes to Scarlet Johansson, who channels an uncanny, mesmeric blankness as an extraterrestrial being who targets a series of hapless men in urban Scotland. Johansson has had one of the best years of her career this year, enjoying rightfully praised turns in the likes of “Marriage Story” and “Jojo Rabbit,” and to be sure, she’s definitely given more conventionally satisfying performances in the past (and will no doubt continue to do so in the future). All that said, Johansson’s work here is so seamless – so utterly unified and of a piece with the nauseating trepidation and existential dismay of Glazer’s vision – that it would feel downright churlish to not acknowledge it in some fashion. Grounding the actions of a film that’s this unapologetically out-there in something most viewers can at least recognize is no easy task, particularly when you’re playing an unfeeling alien predator whose face emits all the expressiveness of a department store mannequin. There’s something to be said for the sheer level of her commitment here: this is an actress who’s always up for a challenge, and her work in “Under the Skin” represents one of her most daring accomplishments to date. – NL
25. Jake Gyllenhaal, “Nightcrawler”
The history of cinema certainly isn’t starving for psychopaths – Norman Bates, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, and more have left their traumatic trace without a flinch. But Jake Gyllenhaal’s turn in “Nightcrawler” has a particularly modern anxiety to it. As freelance videographer Lou Bloom, his prerogative is getting the scoop. There is no line he won’t cross – moral or physical. For an actor who had proven his knack for the romantically devastating lovers, this role saw his eyes widen and smile freeze in a wholly troubling manner. It’s not exactly desperation, as Gyllenhaal maintains severe control and intimidation in his performance, but there’s certainly an element of all-out commitment that disregards the usual precautions human beings take to, well, respect their fellow humans. As much in his frenetic delivery of lines of dialogue recited like the small print of a contract, as in his wired physicality that completely destabilizes any preconceived etiquette around him, Gyllenhaal completely retools the world he is in, with the kind of neurotic energy that spends more time in the realm of the psychologically unstable than in line with those who are merely stressed from time to time. “Nightcrawler” is a disturbing film, one with a warning of the extremes those on a mission for the money might go to. It’s a sharp script, stylish design – but entirely transformed by the white-hot unease of Gyllenhaal’s presence (also: he’s amazing in “Prisoners” too, arguably equal to this film, but we decided to just go with the one). – EK
24. Daniel Day-Lewis, “Phantom Thread”
He’s a hungry boy, but he’s also a tired boy. A clever boy, a creative boy, a bored boy, a needy boy. As Reynolds Woodcock in “Phantom Thread,” Daniel Day-Lewis is all of these boys and still the only person who could play him. Allegedly his final role, the fashion designer gives the actor plenty to play with as the master of a mansion dressing women in beautiful clothes and hoping they’ll keep coming back for more. His skill, as ever, comes from both an immense precision, and a flexibility that keeps the entire runtime electric, always ready for surprises. As much in his relationship with his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville on career-best form), catty and playful, asking for loyalty and sly patience, as with his encounter and ultimate union with Alma (Vicky Krieps, remember her name), Day-Lewis commands an entire universe of slippery fascination and dangerous loyalties in a huffed sigh and a pursed pair of lips. Particularly when working with Krieps, the man digs deep to find a poisonous allure, whispering condescending sour nothings that still keep his beloved close enough to want more – or at least fight her own fight. The whole household is toxic, and every powerhouse performance supports the next one. But when the plaque has your name on it, even if you don’t deserve it – you’ve got to act the part. Day-Lewis acts like his life depends on it. Which, if we’re to fully believe him as Reynolds here, it kind of does. – EK
23. Adèle Haenel, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”
Héloïse, the love object of Céline Sciamma’s “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” is a difficult role. A reserved and mistrustful aristocrat, she only starts to warm up to protagonist Marianne after a good third of the film has passed. During this time, as Marianne tries to paint Héloïse without her realizing, we only see Héloïse in glimpses – the way she holds her hands, her messy hair emerging from a dark hood. And while she is immediately alluring due in large part to Sciamma and Claire Mathon’s tender camera work, Adèle Haenel’s incredible performance catapults Héloïse from mysterious to beloved in seemingly no time at all. Soon, we become as in tune with her sly half-smiles as Marianne (Noémie Merlant). Once heartbreak draws near and the film begins to close, Haenel reveals her insane ability to shift from euphoria to full-blown crying like a song shifting from chorus to bridge. As the camera tracks in on Héloïse at the symphony, her delight crescendoes into something at once joyous and forlorn. Tears fall down her face as an onslaught of memories and emotions overtake her like clouds overtaking the sky. It is an absolutely intoxicating bit of acting, and the pièce de résistance in one of the best films of 2019. –LW
22. Thomasin McKenzie, “Leave No Trace”
Debra Granik has an amazing eye for talented young actresses. She brought the world Jennifer Lawrence with “Winter’s Bone,” and uncovered another understated, nuanced performer when she cast Thomasin McKenzie as Tom in “Leave No Trace.” Tom, a 13-year-old living with her PTSD-addled father (Ben Foster) in a Portland public forest, is at once grounded and dreamy. Though her father is her best friend, Tom longs for normalcy and tries to adjust to civilian life when social services extracts them from the forest. She is at war with herself, and McKenzie lends her such a rich inner life that that conflict is apparent despite Granik and Anne Rosellini’s sparse script. The way Tom looks at her father or handles a bunny or a bee says more about the character than ten pages of your average Aaron Sorkin screenplay. It’s an absolutely commanding performance – despite (or perhaps because of) the reserved way McKenzie carries herself as Tom, all soft voice and hunched shoulders, she mesmerizes. She operates on a level of nuance akin to Kristen Stewart as directed by Olivier Assayas, or Elisabeth Moss via Jane Campion. –LW
21. Carey Mulligan, “Wildlife”
Paul Dano’s tender and wistful directorial debut “Wildlife” is a movie that didn’t really get the love it deserved when it was quietly released in October 2018. Dano’s film is a quiet, haunted-feeling movie about an emotional implosion that rocks one particular American family – the Brinsons, who seem poised on the precipice of catastrophe from the first frame – against the backdrop of a slowly evolving America that recalls Raymond Carver and John Steinbeck. In some ways, the film feels like one of Mr. Dano’s performances: it is hushed, highly sensitive to its environment, and more than a little mannered. What is undeniable about “Wildlife” is the emotional fortitude of Carey Mulligan’s performance, which may be the very best work of an increasingly impressive career (no disrespect intended to Steve McQueen’s “Shame,” another contender for that title). The actress is simply splendid in conveying the slow-burning agony of a woman who’s just starting to realize she deserves more out of life – and that she may not have sufficient remaining years to realize her passions. A sequence late in the film where Mulligan stages a pitiful scene of seduction with a divorced, wealthier man (Bill Camp, masterfully playing a amiable homewrecker) is one of the great standalone scenes of 2018. Dano’s first film is a persuasive and deeply sincere portrait of real-seeming people trapped inside an all-too-recognizable spiritual crisis, and Mulligan plays the silently suffering emotional core of a movie that burns and seethes with the veiled anguish of her finest performances. – NL
