The Best Films of 2019

It's a cruel, undeniable truth that we're all getting older, and even if we all had access to the de-aging CGI that Martin Scorsese deploys in The Irishman, it wouldn't really turn back the clock. As much as that digital touch-up technology has been discussed and debated (for what it's worth, I found it only disorienting at first, and then gradually easier to take than young actors in old-age makeup), what's more thought-provoking in Scorsese's newest film is how it finds the 77-year-old director exploring how the twilight years of one of his gangster anti-heroes would go--and it's not a pretty picture. While The Irishman didn't end up placing very highly on my list of the year's best films, as seen below, two master filmmakers who appeared in my top ten--Quentin Tarantino (hard to believe the Pulp Fiction "bad boy" is nearing 60!) and Pedro Almodovar--fruitfully focused on their own mortality just as Scorsese did. It's simultaneously rewarding and a little depressing to watch these auteurs acknowledge that death is knocking at their doorsteps.

On a more uplifting note, there are young filmmakers with plenty of future work ahead of them on this list as well. And considering that the end of a movie is a lighter topic than the end of a life, it's worth noting that what unites both the old pros and the gifted whipper-snappers behind the films on this list is the ability to deliver a knockout punch of an ending. Looking over these titles, genuinely perfect final scenes and shots come immediately to mind. So in bringing the film year of 2019 to its own closing, here's my list of the best movies from a hugely satisfying 12-month crop:

1. Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino). Set in a transporting, immaculately realized recreation of late '60s L.A. (props to production designer Barbara Ling!), this hangout movie par excellence exudes both humor and melancholy in juxtaposing a movie star (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt double (Brad Pitt) approaching the point of obsolescence with ingenue Sharon Tate's (Margot Robbie) rise in the industry firmament. Even more affecting than the obvious contrast is when Tarantino finds the characters' common ground (like when Tate's hunger for validation in the Wrecking Crew showing is placed alongside that of DiCaprio's Rick Dalton on the set of Lancer), making the film a love letter to the insecure dreamers who create the dream of movies.

2. Portrait of a Lady On Fire (Celine Sciamma). So devastating and meticulously constructed that it already feels like one of the all-time great cinematic love stories, this period piece depicts the growing affection in the relationship between a young woman (Adele Haenel) struggling with a forthcoming marriage that she was forced into and the artist (Noemie Merlant) hired to paint her portrait. Sciamma, in only her fourth film, organically unites a cerebral study of the nature and creation of art with a swoon-worthy, romantic heart. Speaking of great final shots, this has one I may never fully recover from.

3. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho). Ever since seeing Bong's monster movie The Host twice in theaters, I've been an enormous fan of his imaginative genre smarts and astonishing filmmaking precision, so it's gratifying that his latest and most magically seamless film has been such a huge success in America. Parasite's biting portrait of the desperation with which lower classes compete for crumbs from the tables of the 1% obviously resonates here as potently as it does in South Korea, and the mastery with which Bong combines comedy, suspense, satire, surprise twists, and affecting family drama into one neatly arranged package transcends any language barriers.

4. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach). And here's another writer-director that I'm proud I was in on the ground floor of, since I practically memorized Baumbach's 1995 debut Kicking and Screaming during my high school and college years. With Marriage Story, Baumbach's writing remains as witty as ever, though it's ambitiously boosted here with a mature dedication to capturing the unruly messiness of real life and how that which we don't plan for so often intrudes on that which we do. The film is honest and tough when it comes to portraying divorce, though Baumbach's complex humanism ensures that it can't be reduced to being a downer.

5. Ash Is Purest White (Jia Zhangke). Though there are early Jia films I have yet to catch up on, he's seemingly been fascinated with China's political and cultural landscape throughout his career, and with this film, he goes even further than he did in the excellent Mountains May Depart in embedding that interest within a grand "movie movie" epic. Part romantic melodrama, part gangster movie, and even dabbling a bit in the action and sci-fi genres, Ash Is Purest White offers a hearty cinematic banquet and thoughtfully reflects on what is and what isn't able to change as the years go by. In the lead, the luminously expressive Zhao Tao gives one of the year's major overlooked performances.

6. Pain and Glory (Pedro Almodovar). Antonio Banderas has memorably collaborated with Almodovar several times before, but he's never been as achingly vulnerable onscreen as he is in this powerfully moving autobiography, playing a fictionalized version of Almodovar. As this filmmaker character explores old memories and relationships left unresolved, Almodovar brings the mysteries of life, love, and artistic creation to the screen as confidently as he splashes it with his signature bold colors. This is a late auteur work as universal as it is personal.

7. Ford V Ferrari (James Mangold). Crowd-pleasing underdog stories don't get more heartfelt and intelligently crafted than this, which achieves the nifty trick of being both about the pursuit of excellence within a corporate sphere and a shining example of that very thing. Mangold reaches the peak of old-school classicism he's always been striving for, and the sharply edited, thrilling racing scenes gain extra investment from the script's funny and touching portrait of the sometimes-combative friendship between Ken Miles and Carroll Shelby (Christian Bale and Matt Damon, both in top movie-star form). Bound to be a basic-cable rewatch favorite.

8. A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick). Because of his uncanny ability to capture the beauty of the natural world, Malick always brings the past to life with tactile authenticity, and this account of an Austrian farmer (August Diehl) refusing to obey Hitler during World War II is no exception. But a big part of what makes this the auteur's best film since The Tree of Life is how it uses the past to provocatively comment on the present; its depiction of a populace all too eager to embrace authoritarian bullying is depressingly relevant. Thus, there's an uncharacteristic anger from Malick informing the movie, though his embrace of the unwavering love between Diehl's Franz and wife Fani (Valerie Pachner) proves that he hasn't given up on the way of grace.

9. Apollo 11 (Todd Douglas Miller). This is the year's best documentary, and it's such an act of you-are-there immersion that it feels like a genuinely novel use of the form. Boldly eschewing interviews of any kind, Miller trusts in the storytelling power of astonishingly evocative archival footage capturing America's first trip to the moon, and uses skillful, lucid editing and a surging score from Matt Morton to turn real history into a wondrous cinematic adventure. Going from a nuts-and-bolts procedural to a triumphant showcase of how close we can get to the cosmos, this has the shape and force of great sci-fi while being quite the opposite in actuality.

10. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (Marielle Heller). It's impressive that Heller has landed on my ten-best list two years in a row for refreshingly unconventional biopics, and doubly so that this PG-rated reflection on Mister Rogers' importance retains so much of the piercing urban melancholy of her R-rated Lee Israel portrait from last year, Can You Ever Forgive Me? But Heller's shrewd enough to acknowledge that the real world rarely feels as glowing as family-TV visionary Rogers (the great Tom Hanks, revealing yet more facets with a revelatory stillness here) sees it, via the ultimately inspiring arc of a journalist (Matthew Rhys, complex and undervalued) interviewing the icon of gentleness.

And here are the next ten runners-up:

11. John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (Chad Stahelski). While the first John Wick boasts the leanest, most involving story of the series, this lays claim to being the most purely fun, exhilarating movie of the three. It offers even more elaborate and dazzling action scenes than its predecessors, while also amping up the color-drenched cinematic expressiveness. Keanu Reeves, of course, reigns supreme, and has excellent taste in sequels...

12. Toy Story 4 (Josh Cooley). ...since he also pops up here, as a neglected Canadian Evil Knievel-influenced action figure, one of a handful of amusing, lovable new characters introduced here (Forky!). This fourth entry also knows just where to take its best known character from the preceding trilogy, cowboy toy Woody (Hanks again!), movingly making a case for him to live a blissfully independent existence, thereby turning a sequel we didn't know we needed (the third one ended so perfectly!) into an essential extension of the remarkably consistent series.

13. Uncut Gems (Josh and Benny Safdie). Comedy superstar Adam Sandler has done nuanced work in eccentric auteur projects before (Punch-Drunk Love!), but his brave commitment to the weaselly desperation of gambling addict Howard is something strikingly new from him. The Safdie Brothers audaciously get the viewer feeling Howard's adrenaline-rush existence with assaultive yet beautifully inventive style and a tense, unpredictable narrative path, making their best film yet in the process.

14. How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (Dean DeBlois). The most consistent non-Pixar animated franchise around reaches a rousing conclusion with this final entry, which is just as driven by epic visuals, imaginative world-building, and resonant themes of co-existence vs. blinkered prejudice as the previous two films. Lovable dragon Toothless' wooing of the Light Fury is portrayed with exquisite non-verbal storytelling, while the core bond between Toothless and young Viking Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) is resolved to get-the-Kleenex-ready perfection.

15. The Wild Pear Tree (Nuri Bilge Ceylan). In his most assured, thought-provoking film since Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, Turkish art-film master Ceylan compassionately depicts a recognizable kind of asshole--one who just needs to grow up a little to become a legitimately good man. Aspiring writer Sinan (Aydin Dogu Demirkol) returns to his hometown after college seething with resentment, and Ceylan charts his eventual maturation with gentle, observant wisdom.

16. Dragged Across Concrete (S. Craig Zahler). With his third, eloquent slice of pulp deconstruction, Zahler finds a unique, deliberate rhythm to show how the "jungle" of the crime world involves a lot of monotonous drudgery punctuated by quick bursts of life-or-death combat for cops and criminals alike. His dialogue remains singularly witty, especially when spit out by a hardened Mel Gibson (yep, he's great in this), and his geographically clean staging of the finale proves that his action is worth the (engagingly written and paced) wait.

17. Avengers: Endgame (Joe and Anthony Russo). From its audaciously quiet, character-driven first hour, driven by sincere, committed work from the vast ensemble cast, to its thrilling, time-travel mid-section that cleverly integrates memorable moments from past Marvel movies, and on through to its grand-scale finale, this is a hell of a wrap-up to over a decade of interrelated Marvel releases. Although the comics-based empire maintained a consistent level of quality in this key phase, this is only the second of its films, after Black Panther, where the level of gravitas matched the sheer spectacle.

18. Dolemite Is My Name (Craig Brewer). Something about playing an onstage performer--in this case, stand-up comedian turned amateur filmmaker Rudy Ray Moore--reawakens Eddie Murphy's own love of performing, and his joyousness proves infectious here. Writers Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski's gift for affectionate portraits of real-life misfits meshes with Brewer's gifts for milieu-building to create a '70s-era wonderland where the tirelessness of a makeshift family trying to realize its dreams is equaled only by the love and passion that sustains its close-knit members.

19. Little Women (Greta Gerwig). As good as Lady Bird, Gerwig's debut, is, its clipped rhythm felt too mannered for me to find it fully great. This Louisa May Alcott adaptation, on the other hand, marks an auspicious maturation point for the writer-director, graced with the breathing room necessary for the uniformly excellent cast to shine and for Gerwig's brilliant modern touches--a non-chronological structure, the meta foregrounding of Jo (Saoirse Ronan) as a female author working within established conventions--to really flourish. There's a human warmth infusing the movie that makes it comfortingly blanket-like.

20. Long Day's Journey Into Night (Bi Gan). Since Oscar front-runner and one-take war movie 1917 is quite good, it would be a waste of time to whine about why it's not a masterpiece deserving of the industry's highest honor. Instead, I'll direct readers to a film with a roughly 45-minute-long take that's more pleasurably engulfing in its use of space than the two-hour one Sam Mendes artificially stitched together. Watching Long Day's Journey unfold is like blissfully flying around within a visionary filmmaker's dream. Its fragmented story in this context amounts to a virtue--this is cinema.

And here are nine more movie highlights of 2019:

21. Ad Astra (James Gray).
22. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese).
23. Long Shot (Jonathan Levine).
24. Ready Or Not (Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett).
25. The Farewell (Lulu Wang).
26. Gloria Bell (Sebastian Lelio).
27. Honeyland (Tamara Kotevska & Ljubo Stefanov).
28. One Cut of the Dead (Shinichirou Ueda).
29. Waves (Trey Edward Shults).

NOTE: Since I haven't yet caught up with big miniseries projects from Ava DuVernay (When They See Us) and Nicolas Winding Refn (Too Old to Die Young), I've decided not to give a "Special Recognition for Non-Eligible Work" shout-out to great TV work from notable filmmakers. I mean, in terms of standout TV from artists who don't dabble much in film, Watchmen and Chernobyl are staggering, but you likely don't need me to tell you that.

As Yet Unseen: Transit, Aniara, Sorry Angel, Light of My Life, Asako I & II, Give Me Liberty, Greener Grass, Fighting With My Family, Bombshell, Harriet.