2024 was a good year in film.
As good of a year as we could have hoped for, I suppose, considering the double-whammy of COVID and SAG/WGA strike-afflicted filmmaking. There was a lot to like, but admittedly, I found little to love. Not in the same way that, say, 2019 provided an all-timer trio of Once Upon a Time In Hollywood, Parasite, and 1917. But I still enjoyed several films. Looking back through what I saw across the year, I once again need to hold myself to a better standard in what I watch. I need to see more international films, more documentaries, more independent films. Just more, I suppose. Great New Year’s Resolution, right?
So, before I launch into my Top 10, here are two Honorable Mentions that just missed out.
Wicked earns points for three very specific marvels: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, and John M. Chu’s career-best musical direction. Without that magic, this admittedly too-long film wouldn’t have worked at all. As it stands, Wicked‘s last 30-45 minutes ranks amongst the very finest filmmaking of the year, making up for a “just fine” opening and a shapeless midsection that needed trimming.
I saw Longlegs at home after the breathless raves and screenshots of Nicolas Cage’s unsetting appearance swarmed online. If I’d gone into the film unspoiled, then I suspect I would have liked it more. Osgood Perkins directs with the assured hand of someone with dozens of films under their belt, and Maika Monroe’s performance honors Jodie Foster’s work in Silence of the Lambs without aping it. Even with certain aspects of the story spoiled for me, the film deeply disturbed me in the best possible ways. Sure, the ending felt a little rushed, but I applaud it for having gone there.
And now the list…
10. Jason Reitman’s Saturday Night probably wouldn’t have made my list had I not watched it with my son, who absolutely adored it. That’s the beauty of communal film watching — the memories you make while absorbing the films are nearly as strong as the impressions made by the films themselves. Reitman’s film is a fun, messy experience featuring a very strong ensemble cast. It probably deserved a better reaction from general audiences, but you can’t deny the deeply felt heart and passion for the institution of Saturday Night Live on display here.
9. I feel like I saw a totally different film in Jeff Nichols’ The Bikeriders than many of my contemporaries. I absolutely loved the world that Nichols created based on Danny Lyon‘s celebrated period photos. I loved that it introduced me to the social and moral rules of the Vandals Motorcycle Club. I love that it took the time to give us scene upon scene of actors being cool, particularly Austin Butler who gives, what I felt to be, a great lived-in “I’m too cool for this shit” performance. He contrasts nicely with Jodie Comer’s very accomplished, very actorly performance, accent and all. On paper, the subject matter couldn’t appeal to me less, but on screen, it burns with white hot fire.
8. I’ll be completely candid by telling you that I respected Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist more than I loved it. It’s an awe-inspiring technical marvel (the cinematography and production design are nearly unparalleled by any film this year), and Corbet’s direction will emerge as the best of the year. To think this film came from the mind that brought us the heinous Vox Lux… It’s a film that holds my attention for 3.5 hours (no small feat), but I’m still not entirely convinced that the film’s story and themes necessitated that much screen time. It’s still one of the very best films of the year, though, and it deserves any accolades coming its way.
7. I haven’t loved one of Mike Leigh’s films since Secrets and Lies, but Hard Truths blew me away as his most assured directorial work in years. He seems to have a muse in star Marianne Jean-Baptiste who plays an unpleasant, tired, and emotionally devastated middle-aged woman. We’re never given a full answer as to why she’s so irascible, which ultimately doesn’t matter in the end. Personally, I believe her character suffers from the early stages of frontal-lobe dementia based on experiences with a neighbor. The film’s heart comes from the glorious collection of supporting players railing against and, in some cases, sadly supporting Jean-Baptiste’s character. It’s not an easy sit, but if you’re in the right mood, it’s an unforgettable experience.
6. Anora is my favorite Sean Baker film, and it’s not even close. Offering his best direction and writing to date, he delivers an accessible character study that’s part Pretty Woman and part Married To the Mob, anchored by stellar work from Mikey Madison. I hesitate to call it “career best” simply because she’s so young and hasn’t really been provided the kind of roles that would stretch her creativity as this one does. Anora is fun, funny, sexy, and ultimately touches us with a melancholic ending. It’s one of those special films that lives up to the extraordinary hype.
5. I knew very little of Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain before seeing it at the Telluride Film Festival. It was the best possible way to see the film. Sure, Kieran Culkin gives one of the very best performances of the year, but Eisenberg matches him with a darker, introverted performance. Who knew Eisenberg had it in him to write and direct such a deeply moving and poignant film about exploring generational trauma? If there’s a formula to making great movies (there isn’t really), then it would look something like A Real Pain: offer deeply felt character development and meaningful life insights but remember that the first rule of filmmaking should always be to entertain. This film blends entertainment with thematic heft in such an expert way that it’s kind of a marvel.
4. Tim Fehlbaum’s September 5 isn’t receiving the kind of open-armed reception I feel that it should. That seems to be because the film side-steps any kind of commentary on the Israel / Palestine conflict. Instead, it focuses on the journalists tasked with covering the 1972 Olympics and breaking the story of the Israeli hostage crisis in Munich, Germany. That shouldn’t be seen as a shortcoming on the film’s part. It’s a choice the filmmaking team made, and it gives us a genuinely thrilling portrait of journalists trying to do the right thing with dignity and honor. The stellar ensemble cast — one of the best of the year — is anchored by a career-best performance from undervalued actor John Magaro.
3. Director Pablo Larrain created a trilogy of impressionistic films that explored three iconic, culture-defining women from wildly different walks of life. Unfortunately, the performances at the center of each film dominated the conversation around each film so massively that Larrain’s work almost feels like a vehicle for Oscar-nominated (a third surely coming) performances. Maria, based on the final days of famed opera singer Maria Callas, suffered the same fate, and for sure, Angelina Jolie delivers career-best work in the film, but Larrain’s direction asks us to explore the tragedy and melancholy of a woman so dedicated to her craft that she’d rather die than be unable to deliver the same performance as her peak. The film is a deeply sad story filled with gorgeous cinematography, costumes, and production design. Yet, all anyone ever says about it is Angelina Jolie is great. Look deeper people. It took me a second viewing to fully understand and appreciate what Larrain does here.
2. The year’s best animated film, Flow nearly broke me. It’s a very simple, wordless story of a cat and an assortment of other animals helping each other survive a presumably climate change-induced ecological disaster, but it packs an incredible emotional punch. In fact, its simplicity is its greatest asset — there’s nothing more vital and important than the will to live. I’m not sure I could see it again, honestly, as I ugly cried for 20 minutes after seeing it. It’s a beautifully animated film that I will forever treasure.
1. I’ve seen Edward Berger’s Conclave three times now, and it enthralls me each time. By telling a fictional story of a papal election, Berger and team ask the audience to explore faith, doubt, and ambition in the most elegant, assured, and masterful film of the year. Yes, it is at times melodramatic, but that’s what I love about it. It uses these melodramatic twists to explore the humanity and frailty at the core of these empowered cardinals. This is the year’s best ensemble, led by Oscar-worthy work from Ralph Fiennes, and it is the best film of the year because it so effortlessly blends mass entertainment with thematic heft.
