2021 was definitely a disappointing year in a lot of ways, and one of the harder ones to deal with in many others, but honestly… forget how I ended my last list: For all the bad that happened, I’m glad that 2021 happened the way it did. I went through a lot of difficulties with my own work and life situation, true, but the latter half of the year had me reaping the rewards for the previous eleven years’ worth of grinding I’ve put into this little endeavour of mine. Not only did Universal Studios start contacting me directly to go to preview screenings, but I finally stopped being an intern with FilmInk as I have been for the last few years, and became a paid contributor. After spending so long doing all of this, resigning myself to this just being a hobby, I achieved one of my life goals and have made it as a professional writer.
In light of all that, and for as sour as my Worst list turned out, I find it difficult to really hate the last twelve months. As such, rather than doing my usual Best Worst Film Of The Year mention (which, for the second year in a row, went to an After sequel), I’m going to start this off with a quick rundown of ten things (in no particular order) that I loved seeing this year… that aren’t attached to films already in the list proper.
1. Symbolic BDSM in an R.L. Stine adaptation
3. Gay Venom
4. James Wan going completely bugfuck
5. Hugh Dennis in a James Bond movie
6. Ridley Scott releasing two of his best films in a single year
7. Chloé Zhao releasing two of her best films in a single year (Eternals was fucking brilliant, I don’t care what anyone else says)
8. In a sea of nostalgia bait, a much-needed reality check
9. A collaboration between Troma Studios and Saban Entertainment (well, damn near it, anyway)
10. A new Clint Eastwood movie that didn’t make me feel like I would rupture a major artery
Yeah, a lot of good shit happened at the movies in 2021,
when all the big fuck-off blockbusters that the studios had been sitting on for
well over a year finally saw public release, along with some killer
indie features. So, before we completely leave 2021 in the rear view, let’s
take one last look at some of the best that the year’s cinema had to offer.
Here are my picks for the twenty best films of 2021. (By the way, *SPOILERS* for Spider-Man: No Way Home ahead)
#20: The Worst Person In The World
This Norwegian effort is undeniably one of the most fully-formed features on this list, with a story structure so clean-cut and yet so vibrant and expressive that it genuinely shocked me just how finessed it was, along with the production around it. Watching this was like watching a crucial moment in a real person’s life play out in front of my eyes (what every good film should be aiming for), and even with how much I related to the Millennial blues on offer, it was the overwhelming sense of comfort that registered with me the most. The feeling that, no matter how chaotic life can get, how difficult it can be to figure out what to do and where to go next, and how lonely it can seem going through all this, that you’re far from alone. We may all be struggling, but we’re struggling together. It’s a sentiment I had a lot of use for in 2021, and it’s not the only film on this list where that came across.
#19: In The Heights
2021 was an amazing year for musicals on the big screen, and quite a bit of that momentum was courtesy of Lin-Manuel Miranda being busier than ever before. And with this entry, his debut musical was given the cinematic treatment by Jon M. Chu, who seems to have finally found his niche in celebrations of America’s diverse cultural makeup. While I could talk about how well-cast the film is, or how life-restoring the music is, or just how gorgeous the film looks, none of that really explains how much this film felt like a necessity. This was easily the happiest experience I had watching a film all year, where it seemed like every single moment was designed solely to put smiles on the audience’s faces, a mission it completed with flying colours. This is the Broadway ideal of the musical as restoration of hope and joy, made manifest through a cinematic production where everyone is firing on all cylinders.
#18: Oxygen
Oh, high-concept sci-fi, how I love thee. This
claustrophobic thriller seemed destined to make this list regardless of when it
specifically came out, since it fits into so many of the niches I love when it
comes to speculative fiction to do with exploring the role of memories in
structuring someone’s personality, how the digital self and the physical self
don’t always overlap, and even looking at the ethics and logistics of cloning.
But coming out at this time, amidst feelings of isolation and that the walls I’ve spent so much of the year staring at were slowly creeping in closer and closer every day, it struck a particularly strong chord with me. It’s a fantastic example of how to use seemingly little to say a lot, taking the story of a woman trapped in a cryogenic pod and extrapolating it into a microcosm of so many modern-day fears and anxieties. Alexandre Aja, Maxime Alexandre, and especially Mélanie Laurent deserve all the props I have to give for making this work as well as it does.
#17: The Suicide Squad
It really pissed me off that James Gunn copped as much flak as he did over those tweets back in 2018. Don’t get me wrong, those jokes were skeevy as all hell, but the degree to which people tried so goddamn hard to end this guy’s career over off-colour jokes and a ‘TV show that nabs sex pests‘-themed costume party was quite aggravating to watch unfold in real time. Especially since most of these accusers are the same ones who will not shut the fuck up about the evils of ‘cancel culture’. I get that the barrier between jokes and real-life isn’t nearly as thick as some people would like to argue, but there’s still a difference between “this guy made some gross jokes” and “this guy is a pedophile”.
With all that in mind, Gunn being rehired for Guardians Of
The Galaxy Vol. 3 was already great news, but after seeing how well he did on
the DC side of things as well, his resurgence feels more and more like
something that just had to happen. And he stuck to his guns (heh) as far
as story on top of that, with another depiction of abrasive and
psychologically-damaged people forming bonds with other Others, showing that
heroes come in all shapes and backgrounds. It’s as delightfully nutty and
anarchic as the man’s usual fare, but in his re-do of the Suicide Squad (with
more than a few sprinklings of Secret Six aesthetic throughout), he helped crystallise a lot of the themes he’s spent an awful lot of his career chiselling
away at. It’s a redemption narrative that is itself part of a redemption narrative.
#16: Spiral: From The Book Of Saw
I’ve talked a lot about just how much I love the Saw franchise, but I haven’t spent nearly as much time talking about how much I love Chris Rock as a comedian. Never Scared is in the running for my favourite stand-up special of all time, because when the man is on-point, he is capable of saying some of the truest shit of any performer of his generation. “If the beat’s alright, she will dance all night”, “I ain’t scared of Al-Qaeda; I’m scared of Al Cracker”, “Married and bored, or single and lonely”; for real, Never Scared is well worth a rewatch.
Naturally, seeing two of my teenage obsessions collide into a single film already nabbed my attention, but what kept it was how well it translated a lot of Chris’ sharper points regarding American law enforcement. Watching him as the lead in this film, an honest cop trying to do good while everyone else is looking after themselves more than their community, it rings true to the “you get what you pay for” attitude he’s shown in specials like Tamborine. In a year where Dave Chappelle was once again drawing attention for trying to widen the divide between queer communities and Black communities (ignoring the overlap between them), it was quite the relief that Chris Rock is still as observant and accurate as ever.
But that’s just with his contribution to the larger picture, which showed my favourite film series managing to find new life in an era where notions of crooked and underhanded police forces have only become even more relevant since the earlier entries in the franchise had been toying around with those ideas. It was just so damn cool to see a Darren Lynn Bousman-helmed Saw film on the big screen again. Sure, it’s yet another entry in the series that is only going to appeal to a select group of people… but considering I’m in that group, I’m extremely happy with what we got.
#15: Dune (Part One)
In a year when cinemas were finally starting to open back up after several months of inactivity, a film like this was exactly what was needed. This kind of awe-inspiring scale and pageantry is what makes blockbusters so damn fun, and after some quick re-evaluating of Denis Villenueve’s previous work (I’ll admit it, I whiffed on Blade Runner 2049; that film is amazing), it made me realise that the man is one of the single greatest filmmakers in the mainstream today. All the artistic ambition needed to do justice to such a colossal fictional universe, yet with the right indie sensibilities to not lose sight of the personal human element in the midst of all that. I don’t care if you have to snag a projector and watch it on a restroom wall; this deserves the biggest screen you can get your hands on to watch it, and it absolutely should be watched. Can’t wait for Part Two!
#14: Stowaway
Another showing of high-concept sci-fi on this list, and another timely feature. Only this goes even further than Oxygen in how, while still capturing the modern vibe of stress and enclosed surroundings, this managed to be a surprising shot of optimism as it’s a survival thriller with no real antagonist. Stories like this with more than one main character usually involve at least one arsehole that only wants to keep themselves alive, but not as such here. Instead, all four main characters are actively looking out for each other, and whatever grievances they do have aren’t fixated on to the point where they override common sense. Because in scenarios like this, where every one of us is in danger, we can’t afford to just think of ourselves.
And as an aside, it is quite gratifying to see just how far Joe Penna has come over the last twelve years. From viral YouTube videos to some truly remarkable cinematic achievements, it just feels good seeing the man doing so well, knowing how much I have also progressed from YouTube to my own separate ambitions.
#13: I Blame Society
A lot of my own perspectives on cinema as an art form is based on auteur theory. That'll happen when the film that makes you fall in love with the medium has one guy credited for damn-near everything behind the scenes. With every film I watch, and indeed every film I review on here, I always put emphasis on the specific names attached to it. Most of the time, this is to do with directors and writers, but in acknowledgement of the collaborative nature of film production, I do the same with actors, DPs, editors, composers, even set designers on occasion. With how annoying and, quite frankly, painful the conversation can get regarding The Author, along with how much narcissism is baked into that very perspective on the part of the creatives in question, I understand that this isn’t a foolproof approach to film critique… but it’s just how my brain functions. It’s how I can connect the dots between separate points in film history and, if not always succeed then at least try, to do what is now quite literally my job properly in giving the right context for each film I review.
So when a film like this comes out, that actively draws attention to that same auteurist attitude, how aggrandising it is and, more crucially, how one-sided it can be in the mainstream discourse, I have a lot of respect for something that goes this hard in the other direction, pulling the dacks off of all these pretentious ideas concerning the Artist. Writer/director/star Gillian Wallace Horvat consistently shows here that she knows her shit when it comes to both film production and film culture, taking a blood-splattered look at the industry post-Weinstein, and exposing how a lot of the same issues persist, just hidden behind seemingly kinder faces and words. It expertly balances very real grievances and scathing observations with a lot of gleefully subversive fun, simultaneously showing the sheer fun of independent filmmaking and why it is such a vital component of the larger cinematic world.
#12: Godzilla Vs. Kong
After everything I said about Dune, this film ending up even higher on this list is likely to raise a few eyebrows, but hear me out. Legendary Pictures know their shit when it comes to larger-than-life genre blockbusters, but where Dune ultimately won me over for just how massive it is, this wound up worming its way even closer to my heart of hearts. I’ve been slowly but surely growing to love these big-screen kaiju movies with each new release, and even with how much I wound up loving Godzilla: King Of The Monsters, I gotta be honest: I like this even better.
For a start, the whole ‘humans be boring’ thing didn’t bother me nearly as much, because this still contains two of my favourite cinematic characters of the entire year: Kong and Jia. Their relationship was just so damn good to see unfold, and as far as emotional engagement, I was rooting for Kong every step of the way. Yeah, Godzilla is cool and all, but between the exemplary motion-capture work and the incredible rendering work, Kong would stand out even if every human around him was just as interesting.
The film itself is also completely bonkers. On top of the usual giant monster throwdowns, the Invisibles-tier world-building, where all manner of conspiracy theories and otherwise batshit ideas about how the world works are thrown together into a kaiju-sized cauldron, basically gave me everything that I love about speculative fiction. I can go on all day about kaijus as analogues for gods and their relationship with mortal man, but if you really want to grab my interest, Kong discovering the temple of his ancestors in the hollow core of the Earth is a hell of a way to get it.
#11: Nitram
Now for something decidedly less joyful, although there is still some good news to be found with this, as it has gotten an American distributor after it swept the AACTAS late last year (which is usually the case for locally-made true crime movies and TV shows, but still). And that is definitely a good thing, because this kind of haunting and endlessly confronting look at what led a man to committing a mass shooting could serve a real purpose as part of the bigger conversation around such real-world events.
But for as painfully relatable this story was for me, to the point where I’m almost-positive a wormhole opened in my bedroom and I got a quick glance at a version of me who turned out just like Nitram did… honestly, that doesn’t even explain just how much this film wound up affecting me. No, that came with what national treasure Essie Davis brought to the table as Nitram’s only real ally. The only person who could have given him a chance to turn out different, if only a different kind of tragedy hadn’t gotten in the way of such things. The film is largely about environmental influences, and how easily they can direct someone towards some particularly dark actions, but in that one performance, it showed that it doesn’t need to be this way. As scary as it is to contemplate these events as common, no matter what country they may take place in, it’s worth keeping in mind that, if we really give a shit about the people at the centre of all this mess, both the victims and the perpetrators, we have no excuse to cry ignorance and ineffectuality. You don’t want this to happen again? Then you better realise why it happened in the first place.
This is my favourite superhero film of the year. More so than The Suicide Squad, more so than Zack Snyder’s Justice League or Eternals (both of which were very close to making the cut for this list), this is the one that got me. And while I could just point to its consistency as entertainment (like, legit, all comic book films should aim to be this devoid of dead air) as to why that is, my own reasons for this making the list, and making it this high at that, is down to the film’s larger philosophy concerning both movie franchises and superheroes.
Both industries are all-too quick to hit the reset button, jettisoning however many years’ worth of stories and ideas to make a fresh start with new faces and new creatives behind the scenes, whether it’s to ‘simplify’ a cluttered previous continuity or to try and reconnect with a new generation within its audience. And Spider-Man in particular has been on the ugly side of such tactics on both fronts, as filmmakers and comic book creators have spent decades scared of the idea that Peter Parker might grow out of being a high schooler and become an adult. One More Day did it, Sony did it after both Spider-Man 3 and The Amazing Spider-Man 2, and while I at least get the impulse to keep him where he is in the popular consciousness, it’s still an attitude that makes the character stagnate, while simultaneously making just about any action he makes in-story seem superfluous because, if even the slightest thing doesn’t work out, it’s back to square one.
This film, by sharp contrast, doesn’t play by those rules. It doesn’t treat all those reboots as if those stories, the stories that audiences love to this day (mostly, at least; I’ve yet to find anyone with good words for One More Day), just didn’t happen and therefore don’t matter anymore. Instead, it acknowledges that people still have a lot of fondness for those eras of the character, and manages to correct a lot of my own misgivings with the big-screen reboots by showing that, after everything that has happened, it all still means something. Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man wrestling with his own need for revenge against the man who killed his uncle, Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man and his guilt over failing to save Gwen Stacy, even Tom Holland’s Spider-Man trying to function as a hero that doesn’t need a mentor to be his surrogate father; while the last several years have felt like he’s stuck in his own little time loop, unable to leave the cosmic treadmill, everything that makes this film work gives a resounding “No!” to that fate. Are they gone? Perhaps. Are they forgotten? Not as much as studios and publishers would like to think.
Putting this down to simple fanservice might be more accurate, and certainly pithier, than my reasoning here, but knowing how badly fanservice can go when it leaves behind the personal and emotional aspect of what fans connect with, the fact that this works so freaking well shows that even pandering to an audience can be handled with some serious finesse and even genuine heart.
Like with The Worst Person In The World, this film makes it on the list because I fuck with its main message that we’re all in this together. We’re all miserable, but at least we’re not having to deal with it alone. However, as much as Worst Person was a hell of a vibe, Bo Burnham’s latest special ended up affecting me even more before because it digs even deeper into that Millennial perspective, unearthing just how much the Internet has changed us as people, both for good and for bad. For good, in that it gave all of us a way to connect with those who can sympathise with the shit we deal with in life, and for bad, because all those easy connections can warp what it even means to ‘connect’ with someone else.
I wasn’t lying when I said that this had me on the verge of tears while I was watching it, as this really carved into how my own isolation had been affecting my mental state. But more so than how much I related to it, I’m even more impressed with the way in which it was presented to me. I listed my review for this as a Movie Review, and I stand by that, because it’s much in-line with his work directing the Netflix version of Chris Rock’s Tamborine in how he emphasises all the truly cinematic elements that go into a seemingly standard comedy special.
The lighting, the camera placement, the editing, the pacing and sequence of routines; as a one-man film crew, Bo Burnham turns the confines of a single room into a depressive fantasia of audio-visual experience, reaffirming the genuine cinematic cred that some of the bigger stand-up specials have always carried across the decades. So it’s not only an incredible treatise on lockdown malaise; it’s also a contextualisation of an art form (yes, stand-up comedy is an art form, I will hear no words to suggest otherwise) that arguably served as a greater foundation for my media diet than even cinema has.
#8: Army Of The Dead
It was inevitable that this film was going to make me happy. It’s a collision of my two favourite non-superhero film genres, and it’s constructed in just the right way so that what makes me love them both with such zeal is perfectly intact. But in response to the year as a whole, where Zack Snyder occupied (and still continues to occupy) so much of the film discourse, I feel like I need to take a stand with this one because… well, I have no other way of saying it: I think that Snyder’s fanbase is too busy chasing after the wrong horse.
For as happy as I am that their social media campaign led to something positive in ZSJL (when so many similar initiatives never gained enough ground to get nearly as much), the following actions and reactions have only highlighted that they never really cared about Zack Snyder as a creative. If they did, they wouldn’t be so obsessed with making sure that the studio that initially fucked him over, that allowed the shit that Joss Whedon and Geoff Johns pulled during production, would adhere to the work of someone they’ve shown more than enough evidence that they don’t give a fuck about. They also wouldn’t be acting so entitled as to insist that, now that they got one thing that they wanted, not only do they deserve to have their every whim adhered to, but anyone else who goes even slightly against their wishes like James Gunn and Matt Reeves gets blasted because YOU’RE NOT MY REAL SENPAI!
For any such arrangement to #RestoreTheSnyderVerse to really be effective, it would have to involve Snyder working directly with Warner Bros. again… and I would never ask that of someone who has already been through so much shit with that same studio.
So instead, I’m going to show my own support for the man’s work by saying that this franchise, spearheaded by this film in particular, is something I’m going to keep a very close eye on. A vibrant showing that Zack Snyder as a filmmaker, not just as a director, is capable of some amazing storytelling, and with Army Of The Dead, he is 100% calling the shots. He’s directing, co-writing, doing the cinematography, and he and his wife are in total control on the producing side of things. Yeah, it appeals to my auteurist sensibilities, but that kind of creative freedom shows through in the film proper, as nothing here feels like it’s being held back by outside forces. Between this and how well Army Of Thieves turned out, being the other half of the equation concerning what genre cinema is capable of, I now have utmost confidence that he should be doing what he wants to do. Like I’ve said before, this guy is one of the main reasons why I got into comic books in the first place; it feels good knowing that he’s doing good again.
Even though it’s still a bit early for such a scenario to apply, but once this whole COVID ordeal is finally dealt with, and we can end this collective iso-hibernation without putting ourselves and others at risk in doing so, this is what needs to be playing in the background. This is a post-apocalyptic love story all about leaving the bunker and reconnecting with others, making the world and our lives within it better not through brute force or by spouting endless self-serving bullshit, but just by being better than we were when we first went in the bunker.
There’s admittedly some local pride colouring my opinions on this film, as the Gold Coast scenery throughout is just breathtaking and all the little bits of world- and bestiary-building add up to a compelling and pretty world for the story to sit in. But as an intersection of classic coming-of-age and creature feature storytelling, it wields both sub-genres’ capacity for empathy to craft a story that, even as someone who was all kinds of on-board for the Hunger Games 3rd wave of YA adaptations, does those same ideas and emotions even greater justice. And all coming from an original story courtesy of Brian Duffield, who only seems to be getting better and better with each new feature he works on. Bloody hell, my dude, if you’ve got more material that’s this good, keep at it!
In a year full of so many movie musicals, this one was my absolute favourite. The height of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s efforts throughout 2021, even more so than the serotonin injection of In The Heights, this won me over the most because it gets to the heart of the kind of creativity needed to make those productions into a reality, whether on the stage, on the screen, or just in front of a few mates at a party. Pretty much everyone here is on their A-game, from Andrew Garfield’s truly revolutionary performance that reveals he’s been sitting on a whole new well of talent that’s only just been opened, to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s directorial debut that equally opens up new avenues for his career, even writer Steven Levenson managed to redeem himself for the utter garbage of Dear Evan Hansen with a story that diametrically opposed to that film’s biggest sins, telling the story of a unique theatre talent in a refreshingly honest fashion.
But mostly, it just lit a fire in me through how much I can relate to that same level of creative drive. The kind of mind that can’t help but create from its surroundings, where being compensated for all that work comes after the fact that such work will be done regardless through personal necessity, and who has enough insight to turn even his own failures into successes. 2021 saw me achieve quite a few of my own goals as a film critic, making it further down my own path in this industry than I ever thought was possible, so seeing a production that not only highlights a creative who did the same, but allowed more than a few of the people working on the production to also do so, just fills my heart with happiness for all involved. Somewhere up there, Jonathan Larson is taking a short break from staging his literal dream production with all the greats up there with him, and smiling from ear to ear at how his work has been remembered down here.
#5: Red Rocket
Best comedy film of 2021, hands down. I wasn’t expecting all that much from this film, considering how I liked but wasn’t totally in love with Sean Baker’s previous work with Tangerine (especially since I wound up missing The Florida Project for a review, which… maybe I’ll rectify that at some point?), as well as knowing Simon Rex for just about everything else except acting. But sure enough, not only did this give me some of the biggest belly laughs of the year (and… yeah, I can’t lie, for a film all about the porn industry, the sex scenes are admittedly pretty damn hot), it’s also got some serious grey matter to back it all up.
Its perspective on the porn industry is very astute and speaks a lot of truth to power regarding the place of women across all kinds of sex work, and as a political satire, it turns out that not being so skull-crackingly literal was a good idea that more filmmakers should maybe try out for a change? It is extremely cathartic after a good four years of Trump’s antics, and the world’s increasingly tired directness in taking the piss out of him for it, but considering shit still going on in my pocket of the world, it still rings through clear as a bell for the world post-Trump as well. That, and unlike how things have turned out for real-world bullshit artists, watching Mikey Saber at work is actually entertaining.
#4: The Mitchells Vs. The Machines
Hindsight, much like the year we’re all desperately trying to escape from, is 20/20, but I can’t have been the only one who was blindsided by just how freaking good this movie was. With only a bland trailer and an even blander title before the cinemas closed up, this ended up winning the hearts of so many audiences once it hit streaming, myself included. I mean, it’s an animated family film where said family is basically led by a queer autistic filmmaker in Katie Mitchell (and I’ve seen some compellingarguments that her brother and even her dad are on the spectrum aswell, woot), as they save the day from the idea that human beings and technology are inherently at war with each other; there is just so much of this that I’m living for, it’s insane.
And yet, for as thankful as I am for how far (and how genuine) this goes with its representation, the film’s visual cred is in a whole other league. This is what art looks like in the modern Internet age, where elements and influences from just about everything are pulled together to create something that speaks to an individual’s perspective on the world. And here, that shows in Katie’s own film art, which gives this one of the most striking and unique visual aesthetics of any media I’ve seen in years, let alone film. It’s a love letter to the power of filmmaking, no matter who is doing it and with what means, and how, for every new film that banks on modern-day technoscepticism, film itself is an example of how man and machine can work together to make the world a brighter place. A fitting message for a film intended for all ages, but as delivered here, with so much clarity and an utter lack of big-studio cynicism, it truly does resonate for all those ages.
#3: Pig
I love me some action cinema, especially when it’s done well, but at the end of the day, part of me still ends up having to balance that out with my real-world pacifist attitudes. I’m not trying to equate fictional violence with the real thing; just that, as fun as it can be, it still rubs against my perspective that violence shouldn’t be seen as the be-all-end-all of solutions for the world’s problems. Call it naïve, call it ‘innocent’, call it cowardly if you’re that much of an arsehole about such things; that’s just how I am.
And that’s why this film garners as much love from me as it does: Because it’s basically the pacifist answer to the typical revenge-fuelled action-thriller. It starts out in the same place as a lot of films in that sub-genre, with a reclusive expert returning to their old ways in response to personal estrangement from a loved one, but rather than come out all guns blazing, it instead just calmly placed down a knife and fork in front of the audience and kindly asked them to dig in. The same level of visceral emotional reaction, the same intense dramatic stakes, the same writing finesse that creates a living and breathing world for our hero to interact with (if this isn’t already being used as a tourism ad for Portland, Oregon, it should be), but with a focus on winning hearts and minds rather than pushing metal through them.
Also, I gotta get into how freaking masterful Nicolas Cage is in this thing. 2021 was exceptionally good for him, as all three films he starred in that year were all great showcases of what makes him so much fun to watch, but this represents a new high point in his career. Much like the film around him, he goes against damn-near every preconception the audience may have about how things are ‘supposed’ to go, and delivers one of the most heartfelt dramatic performances not just of the year, not just of his career, but of any film I’ve ever reviewed on here. Hell, maybe even of any film I’ve watched outside of that. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for the likes of John Wick, but there’s an even bigger space in there for the likes of Robin Feld.
#2: The Father
Most of what I know about the world (and I specify “know” because I tend to intuit my way through a lot of things… and I end up surprising myself with my own accuracy, so that works just fine for me) comes from what I see in films. What I can see that reflects my own experiences is definitely part of that, but the windows into different lives, different cultures, different experiences; those are the things that I treasure the most. I may not always understand what I’m seeing as intended, but for as much as I can learn about myself, I’m even more interested in learning about everything else the world has to offer.
This is something of a sadder example of that attitude, as this gave me a truly confronting look into a perspective that I didn’t really get the reality of beforehand, and yet one I find myself needing to understand because… well, my great-grandmother has dementia. All my life, I’ve only understood the condition through its most facetious descriptors, either as a contextless statement to put down someone else’s mental acuity in an argument, or just as an intended-to-be-humourous observation when anyone over the age of 30 draws a mental blank. But after watching this, I felt like I gained a greater understanding of the reality so many people out there are living with. And fucking hell, did it make me shed a river’s worth of tears.
It’s a truly dissociative experience, watching Anthony Hopkins basically fall through the cracks of his memory, resulting in a lot of heartbreaking imagery and even more heartbreaking implications of just how mistreated he is, and by proxy so many others with this condition… or hell, even those with different mental health conditions. This is a prime example of why I love psychological cinema so much, to the point where I personally consider cinema itself to be an inherently psychological and psychedelic medium, as it uses cinematic techniques to create a window into a person’s mind. Not merely to placate an audience’s voyeurism, but to make a foundation from which understanding can take place, so that the tragic circumstances shown don’t have to be replayed on our side of the screen.
And if it ends up getting to the point where I need to be on-call to help my nan or any other family member deal with that condition, or (and this scenario legitimately terrifies me to my very core) if I end up with dementia myself, then I’m thankful that my film-centric perspective led me to a starting point to know what to do in the here and now.
#1: Titane
We are well and truly living in a cyberpunk dystopia. Companies own everything the eye can see, the metaverse is real, cryptocurrency is in full swing (and pushing the real world even further into the red in the process), and NFTs are bringing all the elitist money-grubbing of the art world into the digital world; the future’s so bright, it’s burning holes into my corneas.
Even as someone who is Extremely Online, and has built a good chunk of their persona out of that connection, a lot of this just plain scares me. I got into online communities because it gave me a space where I could express myself as freely as I wish, without my face-to-face social anxieties and in-the-moment struggles with self-worth and presentation getting in the way. I came here because it was a place for introverts… but now, it seems like too many of us are just trying to fuck it up for the rest of us.
Not that this needs to be an entirely negative development, though. If we’re going to be living in a world previously only conceived of in LSD-laced sci-fi novels, then fucking hell, why shouldn’t we get the more enticing parts of that same universe? All the fantastical technology at our disposal, the possibilities for mind expansion, and, where this film is most pertinent, the opportunities to modify the self to what we want, and to hell with what anyone else thinks is ‘right’ for our own damn selves.
Julia Ducournau’s astonishing sophomore feature uses the transformative possibilities of cinema to highlight the transformative possibilities in us as human beings. Whether it’s something as simple as growing your hair out (like I did during lockdown, and I’ll be honest, I’ve never been happier with my physical appearance), or as complex as becoming a whole new person, going beyond what was previously thought to be ‘human’, it can be a powerfully liberating thing, and it is an aspect of the human condition that should be embraced. She completely flips the script on body horror, showing the idea of the human body twisting and contorting into something else entirely and going, y’know what, maybe that’s what we need!
I’ve gone through a lot of personal changes since this blog first started, both physical and mental, and both for myself and for my trans sister (and anyone else out there who’s ever felt like they don’t fit in their own flesh), I take all kinds of inspiration out of what this film proffers. The world is always going to be changing, and a lot of those changes are going to just make things harder for us to continue existing in it. But rather than succumbing to our environment as it finds whole new ways to knock us down, Ducournau’s vision for humanity is one that builds on itself so that it will always stay standing. Where we can reinforce ourselves to stay strong and keep others strong.
It’s the kind of subversive optimism that I will carry in my
heart for the entirety of this year to come, and possibly every year after
this, because I love this film that damn much. So, as we (both me and you, as a writer is no good without a reader) step forward through the breach of a brand new year, let's shape shift together.
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