What a shitshow 2020 was. Speaking as someone who, all things considered, had a relatively smooth time with everything, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult the last few months have been for many. The world effectively came to a standstill for a big chunk of the year, with the first lockdown especially feeling like getting to live to live out the world’s most boring apocalypse (and probably more plausible than any movie). The worlds of culture and industry have been affected, and perhaps damaged irreparably.
With many more cinema releases being delayed or skipped to streaming, it’s probably the biggest threat cinemas have ever faced. Not to dismiss streaming services and home releases, but I personally speaking love attending the church of the big screen, and can’t wait until I can do it again. Here’s hoping too many screens – particularly independent cinemas including my beloved locals the Genesis, Rich Mix, and The Castle – won’t be struck too hard.
What can be concluded from this year is that plenty of excellent films were still released, it’s just the case that many took a bit of searching out to find. With cinemas closed, I was happy to pay to watch many of these films at home (although it probably is telling that a large chunk of the films on this list are ones I did get to see a big screen). I also enjoyed using all my extra free time to be even more adventurous in my viewing, resubscribing to Mubi and BFI Player and taking the time to try older or more challenging films I wouldn’t always have had the patience for.
2021 is going to be a stranger year I feel, at least in terms of film. So many productions that would have taken place last year have been delayed or cancelled, and the post-production of many held up. The postponement of major releases like No Time to Die spell bad news for cinemas reliant on mainstream releases. It’ll be interesting to see what the scene will look like with another big chunk of major releases, especially Marvel films, missing.
But for now, here’s my loose list and thoughts on films I enjoyed and appreciated last year.
20. His House (Remi Weekes; USA/UK)
19. Saint Maud (Rose Glass; UK)
18. True History of The Kelly Gang (Justin Kurzel; UK/Australia)
17. Uncut Gems (Josh & Benny Safdie; USA)
16. Calm With Horses (Nick Rowland; Ireland)
15. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy; Australia)
14. Rocks (Sarah Gavron; UK)
13. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonça Filho, Juliano Dornelles; Brazil/France)
12. Welcome to Chechnya (David France; USA)
11. Mogul Mowgli (Bassam Tariq; UK/USA)
10. Dick Johnson is Dead (Kirsten Johnson; USA)
I’d read the buzz about this convention-warping documentary online, and it is available on Netflix, but I did have to search out for it within the depths of their extensive and exhausting library. It’s definitely worth tracking down. Documentary filmmaker Kirsten Johnson confronts the impending death of her father, the titular Dick Johnson, by staging his death in overblown and glossily shot Act of Killing-style fantasy scenes. We see him falling down stairs, being struck by falling debris and entering heaven.
But in a way I found these scenes a bit of a distraction from the true heart of the film – the universality of knowing our loved ones will die. Dick is diagnosed with dementia, and the almost home movie footage depicts in almost intrusive details the slow fade of a warm, humorous and intelligent man. It’s a slightly unhinged movie, but all the more personal and moving for it. It’ll make you want to cherish every moment you have with anyone you love (and makes me think I should start filming everything I can).
9. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittman; USA/UK)
A superb slice of 21st century social neo-realism. 17-year-old Autumn (Sidney Flanigan) unexpectedly finds she’s pregnant. But being underage and in Pennsylvania, her options are limited. So, with her cousin Skylar (Talia Ryder), they take a trip to New York.
It’s a rare art to make a film which is quite so sparse, but undeniably compelling and rich in its compassionate storytelling. At the centre is a remarkable performance by Flanigan, aided by director Eliza Hittman’s thoughtful and unfussy direction. A portrait of the array of hardships many people face simply because they are women, but one without needing to moralise, lecture or sensationalise.
8. Possessor (Brandon Cronenberg; Canada)
After hearing the first buzz about Possessor, I was excited to see it. Nothing beats horror done right. In an alternate 21st century, a shadowy organisation uses technology to implant assassins into the minds of other people’s bodies, allowing them use them as puppet killers in contract hits. Andrea Riseborough’s Tasya’s latest job involves her entering the body of Colin (Christopher Abbott) to kill his girlfriend’s father, who happens to be the CEO of the company Colin works for. But Tasya finds herself losing control and there follows a warped and trippy battle of wits and survival. Technologically, this film looks amazing. Questioning the extent mass corporations have control over our lives off-screen (further proof you’ll want to cover your webcams and be careful what you say) and pushing that to the nth degree, Possessor is an ambitious and cynical techno thriller, as well as a brutal and supremely gory horror that can’t help but make you wince in the best way.
7. Collective (Alexander Nanau; Romania/Luxembourg)
On 30th October 2015, a fire breaks out in the Collectiv nightclub in Bucharest during a gig. 27 died in the incident, but a further 37 died in the following months due to poor conditions in hospitals and lacklustre healthcare. The incident causes mass protests and forces the government to resign. This documentary follows journalists investigating the mass corruption that led to the disaster.
An authentic insight into the world of investigative journalism and an incredible testament to the power this work can have in causing meaningful change. There are moments in this that are genuinely gasp-inducing – the extent of the lapses of care in these hospitals is beyond anything you could believe is possible in the Europe.
6. Les Misérables (Ladj Ly; France)
An urgent and incendiary film. Not an adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, but one which takes the themes of the abuse of poorer citizens and updates them to the 21st century. Following a police patrol over a day as they deal with a theft committed by a teenager which spirals out of control and threatens gang violence, Les Misérables is a scathing and ugly portrait of race relations and police conduct in some of Paris’s most deprived banlieues. The brilliance of centring the film after France’s 2018 World Cup win, when French identity was at its most proud and unified, is a masterstroke from first time feature film director Ladj Ly. Tense, sprawling and thrilling, I was really impressed with this – La Haine for 2020.
5. And Then We Danced (Levan Akin; Sweden/Georgia/France)
I was lucky enough to catch this at the London Film Festival in 2019 and felt compelled to see it again this year when it was officially released. We follow Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani), a young dancer desperate to be part of the National Georgian main ensemble of traditional dance. His natural style is frequently criticised as not being rigid or masculine enough, and his place is questioned further when a new dancer Irakli (Bachi Valishvili) arrives.
When I first saw this impressive and wonderfully humane film, I at first felt a little underwhelmed by what felt like a rather conventional story of forbidden love. But seeing it the second time, I was struck more by how it is as much a depiction of a difficult journey of self-acceptance for Merab, desperate to express himself in an Orthodox and often repressive environment. It’s perhaps why I continued finding myself thinking about this film long after I first saw it – I found it deeply moving.
4. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho; South Korea)
What more is there to say about Parasite that hasn’t already been said? I think it had been so hyped up that it couldn’t meet my expectations fully, but that’s not to dismiss what is a genuinely remarkable and masterfully made film. It’s a pretty wild ride – tense, funny, strange and unpredictable, even ridiculous at points. Bong Joon-ho’s sly and scathing critique of class conflict and rampant inequality in Korea succeeds in transforming this local story into a universal parable that translates well enough even for Academy voters to fully appreciate. An update of the period drama’s upstairs-downstairs dynamics for the modern day.
3. Queen & Slim (Melina Matsoukas; USA)
Queen & Slim is a story of outlaws by circumstance. It’s a vital state of the nation film depicting just one of the many ways America has become increasingly polarised. The central couple, returning from an uneventful first date, are pulled over by a trigger-happy cop and are forced to go on the run following a violent act of self-defence.
Queen and Slim are not fleeing justice, but fleeing a system where justice is not guaranteed based on who they are. Context is key – everyone involved and everyone who sees the dashcam footage has a view to the incident, and it’s to the film’s great strength that we are presented with a range of these views through the characters the couple meet along the way. What I admired about it though was the film’s confidence in immersing us so intimately with the couple. Whilst it may offer a scathing critique on the state of police relations with the public in the 2010s, at heart it’s a story of how two black Americans have to consider themselves in a place and time when their actions come with implications, often without their intended outcome.
2. Small Axe (Steve McQueen; UK/USA)
With the pandemic closing cinemas for most of 2020, and the rise of the streaming service already taking many films off the big screens and straight into our homes, it’s telling that perhaps the most vital and fascinating films of the year are an anthology of films made for TV. Steve McQueen’s remarkable and personal films depicting the experience of black British immigrants in the 1960s and 70s in a way update the celebrated The Wednesday Play and Play for Today series of those eras for the 21st century – telling the ordinary but vital stories of everyday life, unafraid to tackle difficult topics or controversy, which often feel more at home on the small screen as a medium.
The five films cover abuses of law and power, failings in education, and violent racism but retain the richness of humour, character and culture which defines the experiences of many and imbues the films with a hope and optimism for the future, even if so many of the themes covered still feel so sadly relevant. It’s undeniably London-centric, and I personally would have loved if some of the films could have been stretched a little further, just to fill in some characters or explore stories further. But they’re an undeniably thrilling series of films, not least for the undercurrent importance and love for music which runs throughout, and which takes centre stage in standout film Lovers Rock, which surely redefines what musical cinema can be.
1. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Céline Sciamma; France)
Do you ever watch something and it just feels like a classic to you? Something that just has that timelessness, almost a transcendence, that takes it beyond a time and place to a point where it feels like something for the ages. Yeah this is all probably a bit hyperbolic but watching Portrait of a Lady on Fire inspired those feelings in me of watching a film where you can just feel that every aspect of the film is masterfully and artfully done.
It depicts Marianne (Noémie Merlant), an artist who is commissioned to paint a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) which will be sent to a nobleman she is due to be married off to. Héloïse has no interest in marriage, and has refused to sit for all previous artist, but we see how Marianne cautiously gains access to Héloïse’s innermost thoughts and experiences.
A still all-too-rare glimpse of the female gaze in major cinema, Portrait is impeccably shot with an expressive eye – the genius of director Céline Sciamma’s novelistic storytelling in her focus on the minor glimpses, shifts and details that convey the story better than any dialogue can. Plus each shot is so beautifully composed and lensed as to be a painting in its own right.
It’s a patient film, casually embracing and subverting familiar tropes of the romantic period drama to make something quietly radical but still compellingly warm and entertaining, building to a heartbreaking yet inspiring and overwhelming finale.
Musings from a Darkened Room 