The Best Films of 2021

 It's gratifying to be writing about the best films of a year in which we all got to return to multiplexes and art house theaters after a punishingly long period of dealing with their COVID-dictated absence. Seeing movies as they were meant to be presented, on the big screen, outweighed the anxiety of being around large clusters of people after extended isolation, at least for me. Considering this context, it's striking how many of the year's best films focus on unexpected bonds that reflect the tug-of-war between wanting to connect with other people and being too vulnerable to do so seamlessly. Whether these movies centered on a damaged killer rushing into the shelter offered by a fireman with a long-missing son, a grieving actor/director who's at his most serene behind the wheel adjusting to having a job-mandated driver, or a pair of new mothers who didn't plan on their lives intersecting beyond time shared in the maternity ward, they have in common an interest in relationships that begin with fear and hesitancy before blossoming into something more positive. Keeping that trajectory in mind to stay optimistic during still-very-insane times, here's my list of the best films of 2021:

1. Titane (Julia Ducournau). Pushing the body horror envelope even further than Ducournau's great, auspicious debut Raw, this uncommonly audacious follow-up finds imaginative new ways to shock the viewer with all sorts of fluids and flesh trauma. But what's most bracing about the film, which is crafted by Ducournau with intoxicating cinematic showmanship, is how tender, moving, and boldly progressive it is underneath the startling surface. In the closeness that a gender-bending fugitive (Agathe Rousselle, utterly fearless) and a loss-ravaged fireman (Vincent Lindon, in a performance of sublime gentle giant vulnerability) begin feeling towards each other, we're given a portrait of the fluidity of humanity and love that's much needed in these intolerant times.

2. Drive My Car (Ryusuke Hamaguchi). There's the risk of hyperbole in deeming a movie as truly nourishing for the soul, but this profoundly moving examination of grief, regret, art, communication, and the essential friendships that sustain us really is that rewardingly cathartic. Right from the post-coital monologue that opens the film, Hamaguchi demonstrates a patience, a flair for language and low-key atmosphere, and a wisdom about what goes unsaid in the lives of normally expressive artists that hooks you into the quietly momentous journey of stage actor/director Kafuku, played by Hidetoshi Nishijima with a heartbreaking, barely contained air of stoicism.

3. West Side Story (Steven Spielberg). Witnessing Spielberg apply his peerless camera and compositional sense to a big-scale movie musical results in a euphoric rush unequaled by any of this year's other big-budget spectacles. And beyond the sheer dazzle of its formal brilliance and dance choreography, the film also nails the tragedy of the doomed, cross-cultural romance at the center of Sondheim and Bernstein's musical, with writer Tony Kushner's typically eloquent and politically relevant script being indispensable in that regard. Ariana DeBose, infusing the role of Anita with fiery confidence and emotion, and Mike Faist, bringing simultaneous wiseguy attitude and affecting frailty to Riff, are stars in the making.

4. Licorice Pizza (Paul Thomas Anderson). There's such an invitingly loose and shaggy flow to Anderson's singular coming-of-age portrait that it would be all too easy to undervalue its ambition. In marrying the sprawling Valley epic frame of early work like Boogie Nights with the intimate, thorny two-hander power dynamic of a recent effort like Phantom Thread, Anderson thoughtfully juxtaposes the struggles of two youngsters figuring themselves out (Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman, both remarkably nuanced for acting neophytes) with the eccentric soul of a California region defined by its missed-it-by-that-much closeness to the center of fame and success.

5. Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) (Amir "Questlove" Thompson). The year's most electrifying directorial debut came from The Roots drummer and The Tonight Show bandleader Questlove, who unearthed long-shelved footage of the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival concerts and has fashioned it into a gorgeously mosaic-like documentary that magically combines you-are-there experiential purity with a journalistic density of historical context. The free-form editing and a sound design that ensures the live music is always there, even when relegated to a secondary track, are instrumental to achieving that balance. While Stevie Wonder, Sly & The Family Stone, B.B. King, The Chambers Brothers, and a piano-banging Nina Simone all deliver in grand style, the highlight may be The 5th Dimension's rousing, soulful hybridizing of two tracks from the Hair soundtrack.

6. The Worst Person in the World (Joachim Trier). There's such a clear-eyed sense in Renate Reinsve's performance as rudderless Julie--which deservedly nabbed Best Actress honors at the Cannes Film Festival and would receive Academy recognition in a just world--of how someone inching from twentysomething to thirtysomething status can be simultaneously so intellectually mature and emotionally insecure as to render the title's bittersweet intent immediately apparent. That's also a testament to Trier's ever-growing gifts as a writer of literate wit (aided by longtime co-writer Eskil Vogt) and a filmmaker of blazing inventiveness and kineticism.

7. The Green Knight (David Lowery) There's such a chameleonic versatility to Lowery's body of work, which encompasses the most sincere, distinctive Disney live action remake to date (Pete's Dragon) and a '70s-style Robert Redford bank robber yarn (The Old Man & the Gun), yet his singular voice unites them all. With The Green Knight, he's made a medieval fantasy like no other--majestic, forbidding, psychedelic, and utterly hypnotic. As cocky, immature Sir Gawain (Dev Patel, given his best showcase since Slumdog Millionaire) approaches his potentially fatal duel with the title character, classical themes of honor and mortality are richly explored while the movie's stunning imagery and enveloping rhythm keep surprising you.

8. Pig (Michael Sarnoski). When you hear the pitch "Nicolas Cage is on a quest to rescue his beloved truffle pig," you automatically assume you're in for a ludicrous B-movie. But Pig, crafted by debuting director Sarnoski with surprising gentleness and a vivid sense of place, isn't that movie; instead, it's a culinary noir that burrows into the Portland foodie scene and a genuinely melancholy reflection on the ineffable things that give our lives meaning and purpose. As for Cage, his masterful performance as reclusive former chef Robin Feld is a reminder that his intense soulfulness and eye for idiosyncratic detail make him a major, singular acting talent.

9. Parallel Mothers (Pedro Almodovar). No one these days makes melodramas as deeply felt and vibrantly cinematic as Almodovar does, a tradition that continues with this ambitious, richly layered allegory that reckons with the reverberations of the Spanish Civil War while spinning a contemporary tale of two new mothers (Penelope Cruz and Milena Smit). The dual narrative tracks connect to powerfully ponder if reaching an ideal future is possible when we don't acknowledge the deceit of the past. Frequent collaborator Cruz turns in some of her best, most fiercely emotional work as a woman caught in that very dilemma.

10. Annette (Leos Carax). A madly inspired work of art that takes audacious risks at every turn, this acid-tinged musical with songs penned by maverick duo Sparks gazes into the abyss of the artistic ego at its most turbulent and toxic, and considers whether such a personality is fit for fatherhood. Oh, and the central child character happens to be a puppet. That's not the only daring conceit on display, and Carax's commitment to wild cinematic beauty ensures that the chances the film takes pay off wondrously. As monstrous if human stand-up comedian Henry McHenry, Adam Driver delivers a performance that packs the bracing unpredictability of a daredevil working without a safety net.

And here are the next 10 runners-up:

11. Copshop (Joe Carnahan). I'm always a sucker for B-movies executed at an A-level--hell, another one is right below this at #12--and none this year matched the genre-savvy craft and sheer fun of this largely single-setting triumph. It combines a Carpenter-esque compositional cleanliness with pulpy, hilarious dialogue that's like Tarantino or Zahler language distilled down to its pungent attitudinal essence and plenty of cat-&-mouse action and tension. The central quartet of actors deliver with enjoyable gusto, and Carnahan hasn't operated at this high a level since The Grey, which made my best-of-2011 list.

12. Nobody (Ilya Naishuller). Since this retains some key crew members from the irresistible John Wick series, including writer Derek Kolstad, it's no surprise that it boasts an iconic lead character and several dazzlingly choreographed, expertly edited action sequences (a fight on a public bus ranks as one of the year's best individual scenes). What is surprising, as well as deliciously entertaining, is that the iconic action lead is played by comic genius and Better Call Saul star Bob Odenkirk, who reveals a steely badass side that few could've guessed he possessed.

13. A Hero (Asghar Farhadi). There's something special and unique about how Farhadi can take seemingly mundane domestic and systemic conflicts and spin them into moral thrillers so dizzyingly complex and viscerally gripping that they make you want to shout at the screen to the doomed characters. With A Hero, he charts the rise and fall of sympathetic fuck-up Rahim (Amir Jadidi, impressively capable of going from pitiable to frighteningly temperamental) without letting him entirely off the hook, but also with a compassionate grasp on how ass-covering institutions, including social media lynch mobs, prey upon the vulnerability of individuals like him.

14. No Time to Die (Cary Joji Fukunaga). I make no apologies for being something of a James Bond fanboy, though less of one than when I was as a teenager, but even looking beyond that subjective bias, this still registers as an immensely satisfying send-off for Daniel Craig's singular embodiment of the special agent character. Fukunaga executes the globe-hopping action with fluid grace (the Cuba set piece involving a spirited Ana de Armas as a resourceful rookie agent is especially spectacular), while script doctor Phoebe Waller provides a character depth that honors the humanity of Craig's take on the tux-clad hero.

15. The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson). Even if this anthology-style tribute to The New Yorker and its endangered journalistic ilk falls a bit short of the masterpiece level of peak Anderson achievements like The Royal Tenenbaums and The Grand Budapest Hotel, the writer-director still delivers so many densely packed, impeccably framed images and so much verbal wit that repeat viewings are a sheer pleasure and arguably necessary. Benicio Del Toro, as a feral convict, and Jeffrey Wright, flawlessly playing a James Baldwin stand-in, are excellent new additions to Anderson's usual band of repertory players.

16. Riders of Justice (Anders Thomas Jensen). While this offers some of the visceral satisfactions that you'd expect from a conventional revenge thriller, what makes it so original and thought-provoking is how it slyly subverts the genre by positioning the thirst for revenge as a form of imposing order on the chaotic uncertainty of the universe. Fusing buddy comedy and an affecting portrait of family along with its metaphysical inquiries and bursts of action, it emerges as a singular hybrid overseen by Jensen with deft tonal precision. 

17. The Power of the Dog (Jane Campion). Beautifully crafted by Campion with her signature darkness-tinged lyricism and driven by a committed, dagger-eyed lead performance by Benedict Cumberbatch, this modernist Western pulls off the impressive trick of making you realize that you've been watching a different movie than you initially thought in its final minutes. In an age where rampant streaming availability can dull cultural discussions of movies, the "Wait, did you get that ending?" water cooler chatter around this one proved that the new release model can still spur wide, thoughtful discourse.

18. The Mitchells vs. the Machines (Michael Rianda & Jeff Rowe). The year's best and most wildly entertaining animated movie imaginatively envisions a robot apocalypse for the smartphone era, sending a family that's wonderfully specific in its everyday dysfunction on a big-scale adventure full of thrilling set pieces and clever offhand wit (I love the robots assessing the family pug to be a loaf of bread). On top of all that, there's also a moving conclusion that admittedly got me pretty misty-eyed.

19. Dune (Denis Villeneuve). As much as I love David Lynch, his Dune adaptation--which even he's reportedly not a fan of--feels overly Cliff's Notes-y in its rushed momentum. Allowing the material to breathe more by tackling only the first half of Frank Herbert's novel, Villeneuve rewardingly allows the immersively detailed world-building and allegorical richness to really sink in. Also, working with gifted DP Greig Fraser, the filmmaker offers one stunningly immense composition after another, making this an ideal fit for IMAX screens.

20. Spider-Man: No Way Home (Jon Watts). It's nice when the year's highest-grossing movie also happens to be grandly fulfilling entertainment with a big, sincere heart at its core. This standout within the long-running MCU franchise also boasts plenty of rousing action and sly humor. The talented, ridiculously stacked ensemble cast contains some names that would require a spoiler warning if listed, and this is one case where that kind of surprise-laden fan service doesn't feel overly calculated and is instead executed with flair, wit, and soul.

And here are 10 more cinematic highlights from the past year:

21. Boiling Point (Philip Barantini).

22. The Velvet Underground (Todd Haynes).

23. King Richard (Reinaldo Marcus Green).

24. Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (Ryusuke Hamguchi).

25. The Disciple (Chaitanya Tamhane).

26. The Card Counter (Paul Schrader).

27. Benedetta (Paul Verhoeven).

28. Cruella (Craig Gillespie).

29. Moffie (Oliver Hermanus).

30. The Suicide Squad (James Gunn).