NOLAN LAMPSON'S BEST FILMS OF 2016

       In more ways than one, 2016 was both a disappointing year for movies, while altogether one that could be seen as incredibly exceptional. The state of Hollywood came into question multiple times as the big-bucks blockbuster hits were seen as critical failures, and the box office (as a result of such criticism?) took hits as well. As well as the rising trends of in-home streaming services, I believe the average moviegoer is becoming more in-tune with word-of-mouth, as always, but also critical success or lack thereof. Whether this trend will continue is yet to be seen, but as of now, I think the pastime of going to the movies has occurred for long enough that audiences are only becoming collectively smarter, and by way of that, they are becoming more aware of just how much it sucks to see a bad movie.
       So in the mega-million-budget crowd, the box office returns were shallow this year, once again resurfacing the question: are indie movies slowly taking over the business? We’ve seen the rise of Independent film occur now for years, and it will still be awhile before the big shark is swallowed by the little schools, but with the success of indie films, critically, and then financially, we can only see. If the year past exemplifies anything, it’s that I believe people are starting to really appreciate filmmaking again. Its purity, its grace, and its depth. If people routinely leave their homes to see the types of movies on the following list, as I believe they are still doing, there can be hope restored in the cinephile community.
       Obviously, as with every year, there are more than ten movies worthy of praise, so I’ve extended the list for five honorable mentions. These are films that don’t make the cut, but are in no way cinematically inferior. They aren’t in the final ten, but they are still works which I hold great care and devotion for. They are:
• Arrival (dir. Denis Villeneuve)
• De Palma (dir. Noah Baumbach, Jake Paltrow)
• La La Land (dir. Damien Chazelle)
• The Lobster (dir. Yorgos Lanthimos)
• Mountains May Depart (dir. Jia Zhangke)
Each of these films had a particular pulse in them that I adored and couldn’t leave off my list, and yet, I found there to be ten other profound, shattering works that I, upon reflection, enjoyed more. There is always the cross between what a reviewer likes, and what he/she appreciates, which always seems to mean something negative or ill-formed, but I try to find a balance between the two in every list I make annually. So here are my ten ‘best’ films of the year:
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10. CEMETERY OF SPLENDOUR (dir. Apichatpong Weerasethakul)

Thai filmmaker Apichatpong “Joe” Weerasethakul (side note: not a joke) has always found an oddity in the relationship between nature and man, between the metaphysical and the outright physical, and his works often come in an inaccessible, impatient, yet stunningly beautiful form. Joe’s newest joint is slow to realization, but as the realization comes, it is handheld with a truth and honesty that is rarely seen in the cinema. Weerasethakul has absolute control over his art, capturing the quintessential nature between the surreal and askew and what must be real upon thought. Few directors hold such power over their work, and it is marvelous to watch. Go see this as soon as you’ve figured out the life’s work of Sigmund Freud.

9. ELLE (dir. Paul Verhoeven)

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Paul Verhoeven creates one of the most distressing and unstable cinematic languages in several years, and the result is a thrilling drama piece of misdirection and resurrection of the darkest sides of assault. Isabelle Huppert is *so damn good*, a prophecy of the power some actresses have in a film; Huppert leads on a performance wherein you just can’t look away, however unsteady, because her eyes themselves hold the world within them. Bleak, unsettling, and still absolutely riveting. A melancholy canvas of emotions, and the hatred of them. ELLE is a true triumph for those who can withstand a little unease.

8. SUNSET SONG (dir. Terence Davies)

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 A miracle of motion, time, and action. Davies employs several different facets into this film, making it all the harder to bear emotionally, but even more beautiful to try and unfold. There is such a silent grace in each of Davies’ films, making him surely one of the more poetic and eccentric filmmakers of this or any other generation. At age seventy, he manages to package into two hours the rises and falls of a time long past. Everything moves differently, feels differently, a trademark of the location. Even at his age, he still doesn’t have to compromise his brilliance, instead leading us into the gateway of pure cinema.

7. MANCHESTER BY THE SEA (dir. Kenneth Lonergan)

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 Here’s the thing : when I originally saw this, it peaked at #3 on here. It is fallen not because of its own merit decaying, but because other films have been seen since. Upon a second viewing, I could see this easily back in my top three or four. Lonergan masters the quiet town, the settings which we come to know our characters in, and he such compassion for the details. This, in turn, gives us greater compassion for the characters, for we know they reside in a world which doesn’t give them anything. They have to converse and communicate and resolve within themselves the problems they face. There’s something so human about his work, so grounded, it needs to be seen by even the heaviest of doubters.

6. TONI ERDMANN (dir. Maren Ade)

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 Despite this past year not being the best for foreign cinema, the year’s best from outside the States is as good as any other in the past several years. Erdmann tells a simple story of a father and daughter lost in modernization, but within that it still manages to be the best comedy of the year. Absurd and honest about its absurdity, the film flows exuberantly through a nearly three-hour runtime. Ade lets the piece be self-reflexive of its humor and its profound wisdom. She understands the comedy is enabled by some sympathy, some pity, but also by sheer oddity. This is a comedy epic for the ages, a brilliant insight on the world we try to communicate in, and why so often it doesn’t work out.

5. JACKIE (dir. Pablo Larraín)

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 This masterpiece of light, dark and shadow being directed by a Chilean makes absolute sense. This film is an inner expression, a thought, a branch of emotions, exploring the days of former First Lady Jackie Kennedy following her husband’s assassination; but most importantly, it paints Jackie as a true human, anyone, a nobody that is in the odd-fitting costume as a somebody -- something an American director might not have had the sheer foresight to see, as Kennedy intoxicated our minds as a goddess for generations. With eerily Kubrickian camerawork, a knockout performance by Natalie Portman, and far and away the best score of the year (listen. to it. now.), Jackie is the perfect realization of an archetype of the American Dream -- and then, seconds later, the American Dream gone wrong.

4. O.J.: MADE IN AMERICA (dir. Ezra Edelman)

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 Nevermind the “ESPN: 30 for 30” label; this isn’t another fun nostalgia piece about triumph or underdogs. ESPN took a different route some months ago when they signed 30-for-30 regular Edelman to a 7.5-hour docudrama on O.J. Simpson, from his early days at USC to his current incarceration. Made in America is sprawling, staggering, ginormous, and yet, though definitive and thoroughly crazy, it manages to find the details in his story, a personal and formally phenomenal journey. It’s a cold case police-procedural that is brilliant not only from the acknowledgement of the realism in its roots, but the horrors of that fact. Thrilling, chilling, and fully fulfilling.

3. SILENCE (dir. Martin Scorsese)

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 One of those movies you have trouble talking about at all, for it holds so much within its impenetrable genius. So much to discuss here and so much out of reach. A euphoric, prophetic, towering work. Scorsese cares not about religion or religious connection -- but rather, faith, and its seismic shifts on the human psyche. There’s something within all of us that bears a side of this, whether outward or not, and Scorsese chooses to explore the testaments of human behavior when all else fails, and there is something above to pray to, but also to question, why? Why, if there is faith, is there suffering? Silence may be the loudest expression of them all, somewhere between the void of miscommunication and the power to speak. And it is indeed silence, after all, that forces these questions. Purely amazing. Can’t really say much else.

2. THE WITCH (dir. Robert Eggers)

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 When I said 11 months ago that this film was my favorite in five years, I wasn’t lying. I still believe it -- though I believe there is another work from this year that affected me more emotionally, and had a greater impact. That’s really nothing to take away from Eggers’ old-time witch fable, one of the best horror films of the century so far, if not the best. From a guy who has watched horror mostly since grade school, I truly mean it. Eggers understands what makes horror work. The dark side of ourselves, and the fascination with it. The luring, creeping camera that can’t help but capture the essence of evil. Eggers’ work is elementally scary; movements and auras hold so much within them, and in a way, the work is skeletal, tearing off every horrific thing in the book until there’s nothing left but barren darkness. It is the Devil himself, seeping into your consciousness long after the film’s end, and watching you try to pick up the pieces. Absolutely merciless. 

1. MOONLIGHT (dir. Barry Jenkins)

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 Again, I am confident and firm in my love for The Witch, but Moonlight is... just on another level. Indescribably phenomenal. I was pulled back and reeled in from the opening frame. There are knockouts on every level here, from the way it moves to how it transitions and copes alongside its characters. The more I write, the more I am perplexed of its existence. This just seems like something humanity doesn’t deserve, a godly gem found in a rainforest somewhere. Moonlight is about a boy, a life, a question, a trial; but it is really about touches, emotions, feelings, fleeting moments, at a rapid pace. Wherein each action and word is confronted, conflicted, restricted. Wherein day and night are barely distinguishable from each other, the dark and light of each person revealing itself either way. Wherein time stands still and starts anew. A treasure, a masterpiece for the ages. A cinematic monument. 

Moonlight is the best film of the 2016.
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Thanks for reading, as always.  

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