Parasite

Sight and Sound 2022: My (fake) Ballot

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The Long Day Closes

It’s nearly time for British film magazine Sight and Sound to publish their once-every-decade critic’s poll of all-time greatest films. Ten years ago, I presented my own hypothetical ballot; for this latest edition, here’s another one with ten different films. My only criteria was to not repeat anything from my 24 Frames project—a relatively easy task because there is an almost overwhelming amount of movies to pick from for a list like this.

In chronological order:

THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (Director: Carl Dreyer, France, 1928)

My silent-era pick. Wholly radical when it was made, it still feels as such today—I can’t name another film that utilizes faces and close-ups with such candor. As with SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS, I remain uncertain whether an alternate universe where the invention of sync sound was decades away would’ve been a good thing, but this film’s rare achievement makes me wonder.

THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER (Ernst Lubitsch, USA, 1940)

This is the oft-described “Lubitsch Touch” at its most graceful and lithe. The epiphanous, empathetic last twenty minutes or so is what all romances, comedies and rom-coms should aspire to; Stewart (in arguably his most complex performance until VERTIGO) puts it best: “You know, people seldom go to the trouble of scratching the surface of things to find the inner truth.”

A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, UK, 1946)

I could’ve gone with any one of this duo’s efforts from this period; this has the most innovative use of switching back and forth between black-and-white and glorious color (even more so than THE WIZARD OF OZ). Still, as with the best of Powell and Pressburger, the technical spectacle is always in service of a fable full of heart and substance.

THE APARTMENT (Billy Wilder, USA, 1960)

I didn’t appreciate this when I first tried watching it in my twenties, but I fully get it now (being a major influence on MAD MEN helps.) No other filmmaker besides Billy Wilder ever achieved such a tricky balance of humor and melancholia as he did here. Also, how in the world did a rarely-better Shirley MacLaine lose the Academy Award for Lead Actress to Liz Taylor???

BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA (Sam Peckinpah, Mexico/USA, 1974)

I first saw this neglected classic five years ago at a screening in conjunction with Charles Taylor’s indispensable book on ‘70s genre cinema, OPENING WEDNESDAY AT A THEATER OR DRIVE-IN NEAR YOU and fell for it instantly: Peckinpah’s scabrous take on the human condition feels entirely undiluted and yet so… humane. Warren Oates very well may also be the original anti-hero (or at least the template for those of modern prestige-TV.)

LOVE STREAMS (John Cassavetes, USA, 1984)

Cassavetes’ final film is almost a beautiful mess, and one by design. Knowing he had not much longer left to live, he made something people might’ve deemed elegiac if his philosophy would’ve allowed for such sentimentality (it mostly did not.) To put so much of oneself onscreen warts and all was his specialty whether in the guise of his ensemble players (including wife Gena Rowlands) or, in this case, himself; arguably, no one did so with more blistering honesty.

THE LONG DAY CLOSES (Terence Davies, UK, 1992)

Davies’ personal, idiosyncratic style refashions memories as a stream-of-consciousness rush, although perhaps rush is the wrong word for a film that lovingly takes its time. The rare period piece to revel in nostalgia without letting it obscure the mundaneness of everyday life, it’s also pure poetry in how it orchestrates all of its cinematic elements, especially its bold use of light and darkness.

IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (Wong Kar-wai, Hong Kong, 2000)

Last year, I rewatched all of Wong’s films included in the new Criterion Collection box set and this one’s still his best. A deceptively simple tale of a romance that’s never acted upon, it sounds like the stuff of a prime Douglas Sirk melodrama. Instead, it plays out with such nuance and restraint that it achieves an almost unbearable intimacy, leaving the viewer both swooned and devastated.

35 SHOTS OF RUM (Claire Denis, France, 2008)

I included another Denis film on my 2012 ballot; here’s one nearly its equal. Less formally adventurous, this account of a single father and his adult daughter communicates less through words than glances and evocative stylistic choices such as hypnotic point-of-view shots taken from commuter trains in motion. Also, what a sublime soundtrack, not only for the Tindersticks score but also its unexpected use of a certain Commodores song.

PARASITE (Bong Joon-ho, South Korea, 2019)

Haven’t rewatched this since right before the pandemic, but I imagine it holds up brilliantly—so well-constructed, you believe every facet of it even as it threatens to spiral out of control. As usual with Bong, it’s tough to classify or define: is it a class-conscious satire, a race-against-the-clock thriller or a revenge-driven horror film? Bong seems to be asking, “Why not all of these things, and simultaneously at that?”

Best Films of the ’10s: #10-1

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10. BOYHOOD
Richard Linklater’s best films dissect how the passage of time shapes our perception of narrative (Dazed and Confused,The Before Trilogy, Slacker); this is arguably more ambitious than all of them, and even more blatantly driven by a gimmick. But the cumulative effect of Boyhood is unprecedented, realizing a new way of seeing and storytelling only possible via the moving image; through his deft use of this structure, Linklater enables us to witness something both so singular and universal.

9. THE MASTER
As innovative as Kubrick and enigmatic as Malick, The Master builds on the sharp turn Paul Thomas Anderson took with There Will Be Blood, scrutinizing post-World War II America while often playing like a fever dream come down to earth. Joaquin Phoenix’s meticulous, intriguing performance is but one of many he gave this decade, so look to one of the last great ones from the late Philip Seymour Hoffman—his L. Ron Hubbard-esque figure perhaps the key to this film’s slippery, near-unknowable soul.

8. SHOPLIFTERS
As with his great forebear Yasujiro Ozu, Hirokazu Kore-eda returns to familiar, familial themes across his discography with a rare consistency. So, place this well-deserved Cannes Palme D’or winner about a family of sorts up there with Nobody Knows and Still Walking and admire his ever-present humanism and kindhearted but fair depiction of what ordinary, flawed people do in order to survive while also seeking solace in each other (whether they’re able or even willing to reciprocate.)

7. THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY
Peter Strickland’s strange, arresting film is not just a kinky parade of verbal abuse, face-sitting, being tied and locked up and other unmentionables alluded to behind closed doors; it’s also a profound, intriguing, complicated love story. Come for the dizzying homage to Italian horror and soft-core erotica and stay for a fascinating, eloquent exploration of what it means to play a role in a loving, sexual relationship—and how not fulfilling your partner’s expectations throws everything out of whack.

6. OSLO, AUGUST 31
This film follows a man on a one-day leave from rehab. We see him drift through a city (and traces of a former existence) teeming with life and pleasures running the gamut from the mundane to the sublime. And yet, director Joachim Trier never makes light of the conundrum of addiction and how effusively it colors both one’s surroundings and perceptions. Cold and unsentimental, yet affirmative and at times unexpectedly buoyant, Oslo, August 31 is a one-of-a-kind meditation on life itself.

5. STORIES WE TELL
Anyone can make a documentary about one’s own family; for her first nonfiction feature, actress/filmmaker Sarah Polley does just that, but she also explores how such a story can be told, considering differing points of view from each family member, the abundance (or absence) of found documentation available and how all that information is shaped into a narrative (what’s emphasized, what’s left out). As these details accumulate and overlap, Polley crafts a hybrid that does nothing less than open up and redefine what the genre’s capable of.

4. PARASITE
What more is there to say about Parasite? That it genuinely lives up to all the hype and then some? That it’s so well-constructed, you believe every facet of it even as it threatens to spiral out of control? Is it a class-conscious satire, a race-against-the-clock thriller or a revenge-driven horror story? Why not all of these things, and simultaneously at that? I won’t be surprised when I revisit this in another five or ten years if it feels more like a definitive record of its time than any documentary.

3. FRANCES HA
At first glance, Frances Ha shouldn’t work. It’s full of precious anachronisms like black-and-white cinematography, deliberately old-fashioned opening titles and a jarring soundtrack. Besides, the world did not need another tale of a single 27-year-old white woman in New York. And yet, for all of its quirks, actor Greta Gerwig (prefiguring her subsequent work as a filmmaker) and director Noah Baumbach’s collaboration is an utter delight—especially whenever Frances/Gerwig is paired with Sophie (Mickey Sumner), transforming the film into a closely observed study of female friendship.

2. CALL ME BY YOUR NAME
Reining in the excess that sometimes cheapened his earlier work while retaining his passion and drive, director Luca Guadagnino crafts almost an embarrassment of riches, from a monologue for the ages for the great character actor Michael Stuhlbarg to the exquisite modern classical/Sufjan Stevens score to Armie Hammer’s solid presence to Timothée Chalamet, whose breakthrough here is iconic as, if nothing at all like Dustin Hoffman’s in The Graduate. Beyond that, however, this film locates something vital and deeply affecting at the core of giving yourself completely over to love, and also loss.

1. CEMETERY OF SPLENDOUR
I’ve loved all of Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s films since Tropical Malady, but none have stayed with me like this one. Set in a military hospital in the director’s rural hometown, which he positions as a sort of purgatorial waystation for sleep-prone soldiers, it’s another magical realist mood piece. He draws connections between psychic mediums, ghosts, mythic sites and dreams, feeling both familiar and otherworldly. The film practically glides from scene to scene, concerned with such ephemera as the light in the sky or the unusual therapy provided by symmetrical rows of glowing neon tubes at the foot of the soldiers’ beds. Seductive and inscrutable in equal measure, it’s like nothing else I saw this decade.

Favorite Films of 2019

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1. PARASITE
The first Bong Joon-ho film to become a genuine sensation, it lives up to all the hype and then some. It’s so well-constructed, you believe every facet of it even as it threatens to spiral out of control. As usual with the director, it’s hard to classify or define: is it a class-conscious satire, a race-against-the-clock thriller or a revenge-driven horror story? Bong seems to be asking, “Why not all of these things, and simultaneously at that?” Also, he and his impeccable cast and crew show you can create technically astounding cinema that’s also thoughtful and deeply felt.

2. SWORD OF TRUST
Lynn Shelton’s first feature in five years might be her best. An inspired screwball romp regarding the sale of a sword from the Civil War, it features a sharp ensemble cast headed by Marc Maron. Exhibiting real growth as an actor here, he’s equally adept at deadpan humor and convincing pathos as a laconic pawn shop owner. Shelton’s ease at letting him and the likes of Jillian Bell, Michaela Watkins and Jon Bass improvise and play off each other results in a hilarious indie comedy that was somewhat overlooked.

3. KNIVES OUT
Rian Johnson’s spirited homage to neo-whodunits like Clue and Murder By Death is first and foremost wonderfully entertaining—I can’t recall the last time I had so much pure, unadulterated fun at the movies (and how could you not with Daniel Craig somehow pulling off a ridiculous Foghorn Leghorn accent?) That Knives Out not only concerns familial bickering but also class differences and illegal immigration firmly renders it a film of its time, and one I suspect will serve as a defining record of it decades from now.

4. GIVE ME LIBERTY
Following a young medical transport driver over a single day in Milwaukee, Kirill Mikhanovsky’s American indie is one of the more ambitious and exciting to emerge in recent memory. Focusing on multiple populations that aren’t affluent, white and/or fully abled (like his lead character, Mikhanovsky’s the son of Russian immigrants) in one of the country’s most segregated major cities, it’s breakneck-intense and more than a bit messy, especially in its artier moments; it’s also funny, lyrical, breathtaking, and full of outstanding performances.

5. LITTLE WOMEN
Lady Bird was a fine (if *slightly* overrated) directorial debut for Greta Gerwig; this follow-up shows what she’s made of as a filmmaker. Her openness-bordering-on-irreverence to the well-wrought source material is captivating—any complaint of having to work to comprehend the fractured timeline dissipates as that structure pays off beautifully in the final third. With the aid of an ensemble for the ages, Gerwig lends invention and life to a familiar tale, her adaptation a sparkling reminder as to why some tales endure and a guide as to how one should retell them.

6. END OF THE CENTURY
Kicking off with ten-to-fifteen sublime, dialogue-free minutes all over Barcelona, this eventually becomes what you’d want to a call a love story if that term didn’t feel so reductive. As the rest unfolds in non-chronological order, it depicts a relationship but also delves into themes of sexual coming-of-age, deciding whether or not to act on a feeling and, as the title spells out, a little pre-Millennium tension. A mashup of transcendent art film and affecting character study, End of A Century is also a hidden gem.

7. THE FAREWELL
The latest in a long tradition of family wedding films and one of the more relatable, realistic depictions of such I’ve seen. I’d like to think Lulu Wang was influenced by Ang Lee’s somewhat forgotten The Wedding Banquet, where one can swap a lie about illness with one regarding the groom’s sexuality, but this feels closer to the recent work of another great contemporary, Hirokazu Kore-eda. Awkwafina exhibits range far beyond her usual comedic persona, but don’t forget Shuzhen Zhao, who is perfection as the grandmother.

8. THE SOUVENIR
When I finished watching Joanna Hogg’s latest, my first thought was, “I really want to see this again,” and it’s been some time since I last felt that way about a new film. At this date, I haven’t yet returned to it, but I still think fondly of Honor Swinton Byrne (who should have no trouble following in her mother’s footsteps based on her excellent work here) as a stirringly complex heroine and the ultra-specific world Hogg (re-)creates for her, informed by memories and artefacts that add ample heft and texture.

9. ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD
This is Tarantino’s best since the ‘90s (come at me, Inglorious Basterds-stans!) because it has everything I want from him right now: great deep-cut soundtrack, insane period detail, wacko cameos and, as something missing from the rest of his recent work, an earned emotional resonance via the bromance between DiCaprio and Pitt. The ending is imperfect and kind of dumb but also ballsy and truly cathartic, so I don’t know. Pulp Fiction, although trailblazing and iconic, is also imperfect, and perhaps only Jackie Brown is more poignant than this.

10. HER SMELL
Elisabeth Moss as a Courtney Love-style ’90s alt-rocker is an unlikely but juicy proposition in Alex Ross Perry’s searing psychodrama, which captures not only the frenzy of ratty concert venues and lived-in recording studios, but also their lingering monotony and ennui. Moss suffuses her bratty, monstrous tyrant with humor, weirdness and depth, exhibiting full command of her character’s startling emotional trajectory. Not holding back in its depiction of dark excess and terrible behavior, Her Smell also recreates a time and culture with fluency and feeling.

TIED FOR 11TH PLACE:

Apollo 11
Hail, Satan?
Maiden
Marriage Story
Monos
Pain and Glory
Under the Silver Lake

ALSO RECOMMENDED:

And Breathe Normally
Aquarela
Ash Is Purest White
Booksmart
Diamantino
Gloria Bell
Honeyland
In Fabric
The Irishman
The Last Black Man In San Francisco
Museum Town
Shadow
Uncut Gems
Varda By Agnes