2021 Movie-Watching Roundup

A few lists constrained by arbitrary parameters, with titles selected and ranked by how they struck me personally.

Note: I don't intend to "spoil" anything, but I have to talk about these honestly if I'm talking about them at all. If you prefer to go into things fresh, just scan the titles.

List of lists:

Top Ten New Watches of 2021

10. Holiday in Handcuffs (2007)

The premise is outlandish: a made-for-TV christmas rom-com where Melissa Joan Hart kidnaps Mario Lopez at gunpoint. From that starting point, it'd be nearly impossible for the movie to earn a romantic conclusion. But the script was downright thoughtful. It's more of a fable than pure fantasy, with characters written with enough depth for their arcs to land in the realm of the plausible. And with charismatic, believable performances, and with jokes that really land, it was a delight the whole way through. I'm nervous to put this on the list, because I wouldn't want anyone to go into it with sky-high expectations. But as a warm, tipsy, xmas eve watch? Pretty damn great.

Also, big shout-out to the look of early-mid 2000s single-cam comedy, which apparently pushes deep, hidden nostalgia buttons of mine.

9. Le Cercle Rouge (1970)

A cool, quiet movie which rewards you for paying attention. The long, nearly wordless heist scene at the climax is thrilling and tense. It's the pleasure of watching. It's voyeurism. Many heist movies want to bombard the viewer with information, dazzling us into believing that the plan they've concocted is ingenious. But film is uniquely equipped to present a scene simply and get out of the way, and Le Cercle Rouge is confident enough to do just that. It neither talks down to you, nor obscures so much so as to seem pretentious. It's a pleasure and a relief.

8. Death in Venice (1971)

Every other movie on this list, I would be down to watch again at the drop of a hat. Not this one. That said, it is not merely painful. This is not a sadistic movie. But it is painful, tragic, uncomfortable. This is a portrait more than a story, of doomed gay desire, made completely unacceptable even to modern queer audiences by the youth of its object. We follow a tragic old closet case who becomes obsessed with a beautiful fourteen-year-old boy, (whom the internet informs me is the prototypical bishounen, an odd piece of trivia), who is only ever seen in public spaces but shot with remarkable intimacy. Does this man really want to act on his desire, which would be terribly destructive, or is he longing for his own youth now lost, which is just as futile? His vain attempt at transformation, and its final undoing, are the visuals which cement this film as a perfect picture of unrequited love, unacceptable queerness, opportunities lost, and the inevitability of death.

There is also a busking scene at the center of the movie which I adore. It is so tonally disonant to the rest of the picture that I regret to link it, as it is a welcome jolt to the system when it comes up naturally in the movie, but for anyone who is already familiar, here it is again. Chef's kiss.

7. Sidewalk Stories (1989)

A brilliant silent comedy, set and filmed in late-80s NYC. Writer and director Charles Lane plays a street artist who rescues a little girl after her father is killed. Starts off anachronistic and light-on-its feet, with tremendously likable slapstick routines which would be at home in the silent era. Slowly, a more grounded tone develops, without the film losing its sense of humour and love for its characters. The lore around this movie is that it was shot in ten days, and holds the record for the longest standing ovation in Cannes history. After watching it, the former is shocking, and the latter makes complete sense. It's a perfect movie, with a great ending.

6. Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)

There are a few comedies on this list, and they wouldn't be here if they didn't make me laugh. But this one made me laugh, scream, cheer more than any other. It's a very exciting movie, and best if watched with very few spoilers. I'll give you all that I had when I went into it. Cary Grant has two kindly old aunts who, well, look at the title-- they kill people, of course. The script is pure madness and Grant looks like he's going to die in real life from the stress. A great comedy which has aged very well. I haven't tried it yet, but this seems like a fantastic pick for a Halloween watch party.

5. Born in Flames (1983)

Working-class women know that class struggle doesn't stop after the revolution. A shoestring budget alternate history exploring the possibilities and pitfalls of a social democratic USA. Born in Flames is very punk, very cool, but more than that it's so fucking smart. The collage approach to storytelling allows for robust worldbuilding from the ground-up, allowing dialogue and scene to create a sense of a different world, without the need for flashy props or sets. This movie is about exploring ideas. Director Lizzie Borden started her project with a script in mind, but quickly realized that a democratized approach would serve the project far better. The women she worked with here are brilliant, their words are well-considered, and the conversations they have are some of the most relevant I've ever seen in any spec fic. Many works with a revolutionary aesthetic are mere wish fulfilment. This is meaty.

4. Titus (1999)

Titus Andronicus is often considered Shakespeare's trashy, hyperviolent appeal to the tastes of his audience. Titus leaves none of that spirit behind, while director Julie Taymor breathes new life into it with a fresh and shocking vision. We start off with a sort of audience surrogate. A young boy sits at his kitchen table alone, playing out some adolescent, violent fantasies, crashing toy airplanes into the mashed potatoes. Suddenly, there is a real explosion outside, breaking in the window he's sitting near. A huge man comes in to rescue the boy, carrying him all the way to a Roman-style cathedral. Here, we finally meet Titus (played by Anthony Hopkins), returning with his army and delivering us our first dose of Shakespeare. So starts this three-hour, totally off-the-wall feast of glamorous ultraviolence and people acting their asses off. Speaking of acting, you might think you're coming here to see Anthony Hopkins and Jessica Lange, and they are a treat. But just wait for Harry Lennix, as he will quickly prove to you that he is actually the star of this movie, and Aaron the main character. An amazing thing happens in his scenes, as Shakespeare's writing feels pretty racist, but Lennix shines so brightly that the material transforms in his hands. This movie is crazy and it makes me feel crazy, in an addictive and powerful way. I'm not a big Shakespeare head, but with such strong performances and prolonged exposure, I felt like I'd picked up a second language halfway through. Dazzling.

3. The Lighthouse (2019)

I could not shut up about this one after seeing it. The kind of movie I'd recommend to practically everyone, regardless of whether I think it would suit their tastes, just because it got me so excited. I love a tense, Oedipal, homoerotic screaming match as much as anyone could. This is transfag bait. A former teen heartthrob and a grizzled old character actor in a sweaty, bloody, vicious, drunken two-hander? Are you kidding me? The photography is gorgeous, the writing is hilarious, vivid and mad, and Willem Dafoe... He's electric in every project he's in, of course. I rewatched the Sam Raimi Spider-man recently. Dafoe's performance is the only thing in that movie that holds up, and it sure does. But The Lighthouse is another story altogether. Every line on his face is cast in gorgeous high-contrast black-and-white, capturing some of the more wonderful expressions you've ever seen. And the centerpiece of the film is his absolutely perfect old-timey sea captain voice, with every piece of dialogue tuned finely to that same platonic ideal. And it feels so natural, somehow. It makes you wonder if this movie managed to invent, through some quantum meddling, the very archetype from which Dafoe's character is derived. And the story is well worthy of the performance at its center.

2. Chocolate Babies (1996)

My top recommendation of the year. We all talk about wanting queer stories with complicated characters. With the vitality of real friendships, real dynamics, great chemistry. With love, and politics, and humour. So why are we still recommending the same five hollywood flicks to each other and complaining, when the movies we do want really do exist? Chocolate Babies is hilarious, militant, loving, vital, messy, smart, and perfect. It is a rare movie that could capture the most nourishing parts of queer community, while showing the deep flaws of any individual which prove we're really alive and not just pretending to be. The fact that this movie has been out there my whole life and I never heard about it until Criterion put it in front of my face is a joke-- why weren't queers passing this along to each other? How did we let this become forgotten? Criterion describes the premise well: "a band of self-described 'raging, atheist, meat-eating, HIV-positive, colored terrorists' fight back against homophobic politicians on the streets of 1990s New York City". You want to see that movie, right?

1. Possession (1981)

And finally, my love for big performances, intense themes, movies that make you feel like walking on the ceiling and chewing glass has found its apex. I put this in the same category as Titus and The Lighthouse-- movies fine-tuned to my particular perversions and obsessions, movies that go big big big! But while Titus and The Lighthouse both have performances that blow my mind, and they play with themes that get under my skin, Possession might outflank them both in those regards. Isabelle Adjani's performance here is legendary for a reason. I would need to study the film more carefully before I could find sufficient words to describe what she does.

And one way in which Possession definitely outperforms those two movies is in the subtlety of its storytelling. This is a movie which shrieks and yells, yes. But, it also takes turns which are not loudly proclaimed. There are few obvious signifiers as to its deeper meaning. There are no signposts. So, it feels less like a big expensive spectacle, and more like a dream I really had. Instead of being left with the sensation that someone had made a movie designed to hit all of my pleasure spots perfectly (which is in itself, a delightful experience, of course), I feel like Żuławski actually has access to some deep, repressed parts of myself and managed to capture them on film. I will have to watch it a few dozen times to find out what they are.

Special Mentions

Films that expanded my sense of what a movie can be, and made me eager to make one myself. Recommended watches for any artist.

All new watches of 2021, tiered:

Disliked:

Mild

("Pretty good!" and no further thoughts.)

Spicy

(Intense, mixed feelings. I am cursed with opinions.)

S-tier

Full list of re-watches, with favourites marked

Most Interesting Rewatches

Sometimes, all a rewatch does is remind you of parts of the movie you forgot. But when a rewatch is interesting, it allows you to reflect on how much you have changed between viewings. Taxi Driver became more unsettling. Princess Mononoke richer and more complex. I finally understood why, in Near Dark, the protagonist wasn't simply thrilled to become a vampire. American Psycho was more legible as satire now that I know anything about the dynamics it's sending up. And My Neighbour Totoro went from a cute movie to a brilliant one.