Before we get into the all the movies that 2018 has to offer, contributing writer Patrick Schaefer reflects on his favorite releases of last year.
“The Shape of Water”
Guillermo Del Toro’s fantastical love letter to the cinema details the unorthodox love story of a mute woman named Elisa (Sally Hawkins) and a somewhat-humanoid fish creature (Doug Jones).
Disregarding many tropes of the traditional monster movie, Del Toro is instead fascinated with what lies beneath the surface, whether it is the literal creature lurking beneath the surface of the water, the incredible passion and depth of feeling beneath Elisa’s meek exterior, or the intensely dark underbelly of Cold War-era America’s wholesome façade.
Every character is given their own internal life, generally characterized by deep-seated loneliness and the desire to either break from the systems in which they exist or dutifully play their part as a cog in the machine. While all this is certainly very heavy, Del Toro’s camera gracefully guides us through the drama and sorrow, swooning into rooms with the deftness of the exquisite Astaire-Rodgers-inspired number in the latter half of the film, and the result is nothing short of magnificent.
“Lady Bird”
Greta Gerwig’s directorial debut is a coming-of-age tale which seemingly doesn’t have a lot to recommend it over any of the other recent fare in its genre. There are no overt risks being taken here — no ambitious production backstory like “Boyhood,” no mental health-focus like “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” no cannibalism as depicted in Julia Ducournau’s “Raw.” It is merely the simple story of a girl (Saorise Ronan, in a well-deserved Golden Globe-winning performance) navigating her final year of high school, except told by a writer-director who is able to rend all of the beauty imaginable out of the ordinariness that premise implies.
Set in Sacramento in the year 2002, we see our titular heroine go through all of the familiar beats. She deals with boys, has troubles with her best friend, attempts to discover her individuality, and of course, butts heads with her mom (Laurie Metcalf).
All tropes that have been handled well before, yet Gerwig brings such a careful sensitivity to every characterization and line of dialogue, never leaving any doubt that she is telling an intensely personal story drawn from her own life. This touch gives even the lighter moments a tremendous amount of power and makes the heavier moments absolutely devastating. The film almost uses familiarity as its tool, impressing the viewer by just how much better it handles these tropes than any of its antecedents.
“Blade Runner 2049”
The idea of a Blade Runner sequel debuting 35 years after the original led to some very rational skepticism, however, director Denis Villenueve arguably surpasses the original with his take on what it means to be human. Ryan Gosling’s character, simply called Officer K, is our new blade-running protagonist. We first meet him doing his job of killing off the remaining old models of the Nexus 8 replicants and discover that he himself is a replicant of the current model. Naturally, this is the basis for quite the existential crisis and is the driving force behind much of the film, alternately echoing and subverting the original, one of the most famous existential crises of all time.
The film’s keenest insight lies in the character of K’s holographic girlfriend Joi, who can be looked at as the most tragic figure in the entire film. All of this internal conflict and the ensuing action set pieces are plenty effective, but would be nothing without the gorgeous visuals on display by Villenueve and his frequent collaborator, legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins.
Every frame is a monumental achievement in beauty and it is frequently nothing less than awe-inspiring. It is unbelievably refreshing to watch big Hollywood filmmaking look this good while simultaneously expressing an interest in complex thematic subtext, regardless of how digestible Villenueve may have had to make his material to appease a wider audience.
“Good Time”
The Safdie brothers’ follow-up to their positively brutal “Heaven Knows What” plays out much like an amusement park ride, and not coincidentally, a large chunk of the movie takes place at an amusement park. We are horrified by some of the ways Robert Pattinson behaves, by how he treats people, by the lengths he will go to get his way, yet the thrill of watching it unfold in all its grimy glory is so overpowering.
Taking place over one night, we follow Connie (Robert Pattinson, arguably his greatest performance) as he incompetently attempts to break his brother (Ben Safdie) out of police custody after a bank robbery goes awry. As a commentary on white privilege, it is a bit too messy to be effective, but as an exhilarating, drug-fueled ride through the cinematically under-represented areas of New York City, it is an even better time than the title suggests.
“Star Wars: The Last Jedi”
While highly divisive among Star Wars fans, Rian Johnson’s subversive take on the franchise is the greatest thing to come out of it in decades. Despite a first half that looks occasionally clumsy in comparison to the graceful storytelling of J.J. Abrams’ “The Force Awakens,” Johnson is able to effectively deconstruct the Star Wars mythology and dismantle the safe narrative path laid out by the aforementioned Abrams film.
The two directors’ styles could not have complemented each other better, as just when the trilogy’s whole trajectory seems laid out in front of you, suddenly it becomes spectacularly derailed and it truly feels as if anything can happen. It wouldn’t be proper to spoil the moments that account for this sensation, however, I will add that most of them involve course corrections for the more banal elements of “The Force Awakens.” The last half of the film is the most exciting half of any Star Wars film because of how untethered it feels to being what we think of as Star Wars, while still utilizing the universe to its benefit.
“Call Me By Your Name”
2017 seemed to have no shortage of films centered around young people with scene-stealing performances from young performers (“Lady Bird,” “The Florida Project,” “Raw,” “Nocturama,” “Baby Driver”), but Timothée Chalamet is arguably able to surpass all of them, including his own supporting performance in “Lady Bird.” His character, Elio, falls in love with his father’s (Michael Stuhlbarg) American pupil (Armie Hammer) while he is staying with the family in Northern Italy for the summer. We watch their chemistry and attraction slowly build and director Luca Guadagnino allows us to savor every bit of coquetry in the way his camera lingers and never rushes a moment. The heartbreak is inevitable, yet no less devastating for it.
