Carrie Coon – “The Nest”
The work Carrie Coon does in Sean Durkin’s first movie in nearly a decade has a symbiotic relationship with the camera: The lens collapses the world around her as she communicates a range of emotions, from dismay to disgust to outright anger, with every passing second. As Alison O’Hara, a horseback riding instructor removed from New York City to England, Coon is tasked with expressing reluctance at being whisked off to a new land and a new home by her success hungry husband, Rory (Jude Law, also terrific and instrumental in shaping this movie), which gives way briefly to acceptance as she acclimates to her British surroundings. What she interprets first as a risk looks to pay off, at least until Rory makes one bad decision after another and the ground beneath her feet, once solid, quakes and trembles nearly as much as she does as she calcifies into a pillar of contempt. – AC
Vanessa Kirby – “Pieces of a Woman”
Technically not coming out until the very end of December on Netflix and then theaters in January, you’re going to hear a lot about this performance soon because it’s getting Oscar-nominated, to be sure. In “Pieces Of A Woman,” a heartbreaking home birth leaves a woman grappling with the profound emotional fallout. As you’ve probably heard, the movie opens with a relentless, 20-minute birthing scene that is super intense, probably the most realistic birth ever depicted on screen, and so powerful, the incredibly Vaness Kirby would likely earn a nomination just alone on that. Yet there is so much more immensity to come from her performance and anyone who thought Kirby was just a “Mission Impossible” or “Fast & Furious” actress, whoo boy, be prepared to be blown away. Kirby’s character’s journey is filled with a distancing sense of isolation from her partner (Shia LaBeouf, who is also great but also fuck that guy), and family (Ellen Burstyn, who is also amazing, and nearly earned her own spot on this list) and the way waves of grief consume her. Kirby does all of this quietly, alone, struggling to stay alive and sometimes just devoid of all feeling. It’s a startling performance, an arresting film, and late in the year, but come Oscars, you will be reminded of it all over again. – Rodrigo Perez
Haley Bennett- “Swallow”
The overlooked “Swallow” by IFC Films and director Carlo Mirabella-Davis is a starling debut about a woman’s claustrophobia, desperation, and need for some control. In “Swallow,” Haley Bennett plays something of a trophy wife, plucked from the obscurities of a lower class. She’s beautiful, aims to please, and her rich husband, from a wealthy family, believes in many ways that he has rescued a princess and put her in his castle. But everyone seems to forget that Hunter (Bennett) is a person, not an object, and one that feels increasingly isolated and alienated in her pristine castle with absolutely nothing to do. Stuck at home without purpose and treated by her husband’s vile family like she should be grateful he married her, her anxiety about the world of wealth and privilege she’s entered (plus the douchebag she married) escalates. The one form of solace comes in a twisted form of what she believes to be control of her body: a learned compulsion to swallow random inanimate objects. Plastic, marbles, tacks, and then batteries, and sharp and dangerous objects. And this transition from boiling anxiety and discomfort, to relief and pleasure when indulging in her unhealthy habit — her little secret — is masterfully orchestrated by Haley Bennett. A symphony of quiet, subtle, but discernible emotions play over her body and face throughout; the character doesn’t even speak much, too timid to face her husband and family. There’s so much inner turmoil tempestuously flying around inside Bennett, and it’s not only amazing how much she communicates with so little, but just how much goddamn empathy we feel for her and her psychologically and physically imprisoned plight. This is an outstanding performance that literally should be on every performance list on the internet this year, and she should be considered one of the best actors working today – RP.
Chadwick Boseman – “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”
The surprising, tragic death of Chadwick Boseman this year was so painful, and it still such a heartbreak (he had cancer, and the public didn’t know until his death was announced). We’re all still reeling from his absence; the world is a lesser place without him. However, the one silver lining of 2020 is his final performance in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” and as usual, it’s a gift. ‘Ma Rainey’s’ might be titled after its titular character, the brassy and don’t f*ck-with-me blue singer played by Viola Davis, who is great, but we’d argue the true heart and soul of the film is Levee, played by the late Boseman. The film is about the tensions essentially between Rainey, her band, and the session player Levee on one sweaty day in a recording studio and much of it comes from Boseman’s trumpeter; arrogant, ambitious, and chasing stardom himself. But underneath his showy, loud veneer is a man with such sadness, such rage, and someone who has had to endure much profound trauma. Levee believes, for better or worse, that he is owed something, that his talents are immense and he should own the spotlight. It’s a misguided rage that comes from a lifetime of oppression, suffering, and hardship, like many black men in America, but especially the 1920s set ‘Black Bottom’ where racism is obviously still open and free. It’s a big performance, but the way Boseman flutters from notes of exasperation and indignity to recalling past pains is anguishing to watch. It’s a tragedy he’s gone, and cinema is going to be so much less without this titan of a thespian. – RP
Brian Dennehy – “Driveways”
We lost a giant when Brian Dennehy passed away in April. The good news, such as any news surrounding his death can be construed as “good,” is that Dennehy left behind a handful of posthumous performances for us to pour over in the next year, and the best of these released to date is his turn in Andrew Ahn’s “Driveways.” In so many ways, widower and veteran Del is typical of Dennehy’s established persona, tough, a career man, a manly man, and yet he’s gentle and achingly lonesome beneath his lion facade. Del wants for connection. He’s only human. But it isn’t just isolation that gets him. It’s the failure. Dennehy puts a chagrined mask on Del, expressing his life’s regret of putting his job over his family and finding redemption in an unexpected second chance; the world’s a poorer place without him, but he’ll rest easy having gone on a high note this high. – AC
