Nickel Boys

Nickel Boys tells of the powerful friendship between two young black men navigating the harrowing trials of a notoriously abusive reform school together in Florida. From that description alone, this may not sound like such a radical work of cinema quite yet, until you learn the key piece that defines it all: the movie is filmed completely from the first-person point-of-view of the teen friends and protagonists Elwood and Turner. Through this effect, you feel like you’re living a lifetime with them, traveling back to the 1960s, particularly into some of the deepest, darkest holes dug by America’s foundations that ruthlessly and systemically discriminated against people of color. It’s an invisible feat to get your audience to immediately care about a character whose face you barely see, but through Elwood’s perspective, we’re pulled and immersed into a heart-stopping time capsule. This experience may feel jarring at first, and the editing does occasionally break the gimmick’s own rules, the approach enhances the film’s thematic weight. From the cast, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor is in particular brilliant in a small but unforgettable performance as Elwood’s grandmother.

RaMell Ross brings us into the sensory experiences of the characters with convincing production value, showing us subtly a world that ignores and persecutes teenagers of color, with a system built to see black men as guilty before charged and unworthy of the same chances. It’s also a film about how trauma can root itself into the soul and reshape a person’s being and outlook. The final act in particular is unforgettable and will stick with you for a long, long time after the credits roll. Nickel Boys is important, daring, and affecting in a deeply haunting way, and is a must-watch essential film of the year.

Emilia Pérez

Lawyer Rita receives an unusual offer from cartel leader Manitas — to help him evade the authorities and disappear by becoming Emilia Pérez, the woman she always was meant to be inside.

There hasn’t quite been a film remotely like Emilia Pérez, at least not in recent memory. One that so effortlessly blends seemingly alien genres and stories together, and utilizes its story, themes, and cast in such a surprising way. Zoe Saldaña shines in her most electric role yet, in an entrancing narcotics thriller meets rock opera musical where all the show-stopping elements create a magical experience you can’t look away from. Karla Sofia Gascon gives the character an identity defined by envy and a desire for redemption that’s also reflected in Saldaña’s character. Selena Gomez rounds out the poignant cast, getting to balance her great star power with a more rageful side to her acting we haven’t seen before. 

The journey of watching the film is one that gleefully navigates its way through tones and genres that wouldn’t have meshed so beautifully in other films. The musical numbers give the characters a voice that they otherwise lack or are searching for at the start. Every character, from the main ones to the background singers, is looking for validation, redemption, or recognition, and that binds the themes of the film together. There’s a scene about halfway in where I leaned forward in my seat, and never quite leaned back because I was so entranced by the mood the film created with its music and style. It’s director Jacques Audiard taking an exciting leap to create a really special and breathtaking experience; an outlandish, wonderfully performed film that dares to challenge but wow it’s viewers.

Conclave

Cardinal Lawrence is tasked with overseeing Conclave, the selection of a new pope. Soon, secrets reveal themselves that could shake the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church and bring Lawrence’s faith in his colleagues into question.

Edward Berger’s drama transcends conversations about faith and asks about men and values. The idea that selfishness and lies prevail in any space of remote competition or power is about so much more than the Catholic Church, but there are genuine stakes and universal truths to the story here. Ralph Fiennes gives one of his best performances ever as Cardinal Lawrence, a man trying to guide his belief in his Church and his peers while grappling with his understanding of faith and his place there. His character does what he feels is necessary but there’s a prevalent goodness and softness to Fiennes’ performance that beautifully accompanies his wisdom and elegance. Fiennes gives a breathtaking monologue about the coexistence of doubt and faith that took the air out of the theater — and that’s only half an hour in. I could’ve watched Fiennes embody this character for hours. Stanley Tucci is also exceptional as another one of the more moral members of the Church.

The cinematography is stunning, with colors that always stand out, and symbolism in items or actions. Even a light entering a room represents so much more for the characters and their path ahead. The action movie-like orchestral score by Volker Bertelmann is enticing and helps define the pace, which never wastes a minute of its 2-hour runtime that flies by. Though a twist at the end feels unnecessary, the idea that men flock to accusations, deception, and harm when they need to cover for themselves is delivered with heft. Fiennes’ performance gives the film the identity it needs to connect, and the writing dissects the flaws of humanity and absolution with fascination and conviction. Berger’s outstanding film invites you to continue guessing, indulging, and marveling.

The Apprentice

The Apprentice envisions the rise of billionaire tycoon and megalomaniac Donald Trump as a teacher-student relationship between Trump and his cutthroat attorney Roy Cohn, the acolyte of many evildoers in American history such as Nixon and McCarthy. It takes a serious approach with only a dash of irreverence in its script and style, showing the true scope of the values America represents and the ones it claims to but fails. Sebastian Stan isn’t doing a comedic impersonation of the man like many we’ve seen on Saturday Night Live, rather he transcends that and embodies Trump’s skin, becoming more and more like the Trump we’re used to seeing and hearing as the runtime progresses. Donald in the film is chronicled in his journey from a spoiled brat living off his dad’s achievements, to the narcissistic bully obsessed with greed and demonizing others. Much of what he seems to learn is attributed to his mentor, attorney Roy Cohn. Jeremy Strong is incredible in the role, giving a massive performance as a man who dominates every room yet evidently has a small sense of self. Cohn is played by Strong with immense physicality and a fragile fearfulness to his appearance. Even when the film’s pacing occasionally slows down or falters, the film is entirely worth it for those two principal performances.

Director Ali Abassi is fascinated with the American ambitions and values that surfaced in the 1980s, including Cohn’s “kill or be killed” mentality that many big American wealth giants lived by, or splitting the world into “winners and losers”. The use of various vintage cameras to immerse the audience in its 80s period can come off as indulgent and even distracting when too rushed, but the production value looks uncanny to how the Trumps at that time and their “achievements” really looked. Most importantly, it shows the normalization of bigotry and corruption in the American system, and how it’s rigged to enable the wealthy to get richer, and continuously toss the needs of the people aside. Trump comes of age in the film, but perhaps for the worst. His wishes are all granted, but at what cost? The spread of his ambitions to conquer the world and rub it in everyone else’s faces seem never-ending, but we see his infamous persona here originating from a desire to always be strong and win no matter the cost. The Apprentice isn’t just an origin story of modern evil, but a tale of the delusional men who roam at the top of society, capturing the essence of how a force of destruction and its hunger for power was activated and enabled by forces not so unlike him.

Anora

Anora, a young exotic dancer and call girl, meets the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, and they soon spark up a fairytale romance. But that soon is threatened once his family gets word and sets out to break them up.

Sean Baker’s latest film is his biggest, utilizing more settings than his other films yet still addressing issues related to the working class. However, this one isn’t as grounded as his other films about America’s divisions — and flourishes because of it. The movie effortlessly balances fairy tale romance, screwball comedy, and tense drama, even becoming a hostage thriller of sorts at one point. Mikey Madison delivers a star-making performance as the titular character of Ani. She may be looking for love, control, validation, security, glamour, or respect — it varies every moment and that’s what makes Ani so unpredictable. She owns the screen with her every move and line. We meet her at her job as an escort, a role that doesn’t normally constitute a movie protagonist, but Mikey is immediately lovable despite her being from a world new to us. All the supporting characters are also expertly utilized, and the look and soundtrack make Anora feel like a lovely adventure… until things soon spiral out of control into a very different mood, yet equally fascinating and out there. 

There may be parts later on that are drawn out, but it never lets go of your attention for a moment as the stakes rise. The ending changed my entire outlook on what the film was really about all along. There’s so much depth to uncover and your expectations are completely flipped in a ruthless, heartbreaking, and unforgettable final act. But Baker’s love for his characters, even the smallest parts, breathes a human life through them and winds up making Anora a beautiful, resonant, and truly one-of-a-kind experience that juggles so much without ever compromising its nature or grasp on the audience.

We Live in Time

Oscar nominees Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh star in a film about more than just romance, but about making the best of our time and deciding what we want to leave behind for ourselves. As a couple faced with difficult decisions, the two leads shine, although it takes some time to buy them as a grounded couple rather than two A-list stars in a major pairing. Pugh in particular is the film’s heart: she’s a woman faced with a sadly universal and terrifying circumstance, working to preserve herself, her future, and her image for her loved ones and finding out that she doesn’t have to choose between them. Garfield is also vulnerable and works well when his character is lovingly caring for Pugh yet standing up in their relationship. 

Though the score and the pace are meditative, the unfolding of the story suffers from the unnecessary decision to present the events in a non-linear fashion, which accounts for more confusion than revelation. The film doesn’t quite live up to the high bar set by its talented leads and John Crowley’s incredible romance Brooklyn (2015), but also ends up finding its footing in a final act that follows through on the empowering promise it sets up for Pugh’s character. It also doesn’t overstay its welcome and allows things to be open to the audience’s interpretation, as is the passage of time and the future as we view it from the present. It’s a solid and human film that takes time to end up resonating, but is lifted by impressive performances and an inconsistent but ultimately heartfelt and meditative runtime.

Sing Sing

Sing Sing takes place in the titular New York prison and focuses on inmates involved in the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program, as they work through their traumas to find redemption through acting.

Colman Domingo beautifully leads this film as one of the only actors not starring as themselves, opening us to a completely different side of him from his turn in Rustin, but equally moving and majestic. His charisma and soul commands the screen like not many actors can, balancing authority in his efforts to strengthen camaraderie throughout the RTA’s production at Sing Sing, and a longing to leave his imprisonment and prove his innocence from a crime he’s doing time for that he didn’t commit. He makes us deeply care for Divine G’s struggle but his “performance within a performance” scenes are also impossible to look away from. Paul Raci is also lovely as the RTA director encouraging the inmates to open up and unlock their deepest feelings through the process of acting and imagination. Besides those two Oscar nominees, almost everyone else is a veteran of the RTA program playing themselves, unlocking a naturalistic sincerity in not just the characters but the experience (similar to watching Frances McDormand interact with real-life nomads in Nomadland).

As these inmates find the hidden parts of themselves and get in touch with their most vulnerable sides, the experience of watching Sing Sing becomes just that for the audience. We’re left reflecting on our own livelihoods we’ve taken for granted, and the times we may have felt trapped and longed to escape from realities of our own. Acting is not just redemption for these characters we grow to feel deeply for — it reinvigorates their love for being alive, and reminds them of something to fight for, including their brothers on the stage with them. The film frames this rehabilitative process as a reclamation of the self, even behind bars where people are often treated as, well, less than people. It’s a rare experience that breaks down barriers and makes us feel close to characters that would often frighten us from the outside in any other film. Beyond those discussions about empathy it may stir within us, the film is kind-hearted and funny even amidst the most difficult of settings. In this mix of Oscar-nominated actors alongside a number of men playing themselves, the real often blends with the scripted, both for the characters and the art, that invites audiences for a complex but loving and extraordinary drama of raw and beautiful storytelling.

Fly Me to the Moon

Marketing specialist Kelly Jones and launch director Cole Davis cross paths at the Kennedy Space Center and sell America the race to put a man on the moon. But things get truly complicated when NASA orders Jones to come up with a contingency plan to mankind’s greatest achievement.

Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum shine in this romantic star vehicle set in the backdrop of the space race, but the film flourishes most when focused on its playful interactions with history and period mood. Tatum is particularly strong as a character whose authority is thrown into messy situations, and Jim Rash is a hilarious standout as a director friend of Johansson’s character. Ray Romano also gives potentially his most delightful performance since The Big Sick as a NASA scientist who gets some of the film’s most touching dialogue. The $100 million budget also pays off as you feel the grand scale of NASA’s sites and activity, as well as the gravity (no pun intended) of this place and its happenings for the world and human possibility. Some scenes may fall into the shadow of First Man due to some of the same events being covered, but it’s not really fair to compare any film to that one technically. The film work’s best when embracing this ambition alongside it’s bright, comedic tone, and this energy creates an engaging watch, even when the film is low on substance — or the substance to the lead characters just isn’t that memorable. Still, Johansson and Tatum’s performances are enough to entice the audience and though the editing is a bit aggressive at times, and the film doesn’t leave you with as much food for that as it does toying around with history, it brings its 60s time period — and the wonder that came with NASA at the time — to life with enough flare to induce smiles, laughs, and a nice trip to the movies for all.

The Bikeriders

After a chance encounter, headstrong Kathy is drawn to Benny, member of Midwestern motorcycle club the Vandals. As the club transforms into a dangerous underworld of violence, Benny must choose between Kathy and his loyalty to the club.

The Bikeriders may be trying to capture that star-powered crime film that Scorsese’s Mean Streets and Goodfellas may have popularized, but it’s also got director Jeff Nichols doing what he does best — intimate, mid-budget character dramas with a rougher edge. The movie’s also very much focused on its stars, with Austin Butler attempting to induce as much swoon as usual, but also delivering a soft shame underneath his stoicism. Though Jodie Comer’s accent takes a scene or two to get used to, she’s an excellent lead here, continuing to prove her range and likability across genres. Tom Hardy is in particular brilliant — even without the appealing 60s aesthetic and dynamics between said “macho men”, the film would still work as a showcase for his talent. Though his character is a bad man and often uses violence and intimidation to get what he wants, he’s not a full-on antagonist to the audience like you’d say about his character in The Revenant. Hardy gives the character of Johnny an outcast side, a man who’s built everything he knows to run from the dejection that used to surround him, and deep down longs for brotherhood beneath all the motorbike gang dynamics. It’s so inviting to see Hardy completely throw himself into the most subtle, sympathetic, and gruesome parts of the character.

Though the style and cast often elevate this film into a great one, the story may prove predictable for some. However, Nichols’ approach to its characters and setting feels attractive and gritty, and what it lacks in emotional punch, it certainly makes up for with performance, as well as the production value, sound editing, and development of the gang culture that surrounds the film.

Challengers

Tashi, a former tennis prodigy turned coach, turned her husband Art into a champion. But to overcome a losing streak, he needs to face his ex-best friend, Patrick, who’s also Tashi’s ex-boyfriend.

One thing that’s thrilling about Challengers is that it never gives you easy answers. Is it about devotion? Manipulation? Triumph? Doom? All of them? One thing’s for sure: it’s a film about passion. Raw physical and emotional passion between humans for one another, and for the kick they get doing the one thing they can’t live without — in this case, playing tennis. And for all the right reasons, Luca Guadagnino is at his most maximalist stylistically to convey this raw passion these characters feel and bring us into the world, from exciting editing and some experimental cinematography to the synth, almost Run Lola Run-esque score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. It’s the polar opposite to his more naturalistic, minimalist approach to the intimacy of Call Me By Your Name, and an upping of the ante of the wilder style of Bones and All. Zendaya gives one of her heaviest performance, portraying Tashi perfectly over a long span of time, through fascination, ambition, longing, control, and deceit. Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist are also great, particularly Faist, whose charm entrances the screen. The West Side Story star announces himself as a powerhouse whose apparent harmlessness you can’t help but feel for. Their friendship established in the opening minutes of the film sets the stage for everything to come, and makes you care for how the rest may unfold or fall apart.

Challengers is the rare film that transports you into its world in a case where there are only 3 characters who really bear any significance. There’s a scene between the three main characters that happens early on chronologically that enchants you and sucks you into the close, complicated intimacy they inhabit in this space, and the film never lets you go once this scene happens until the credits roll. It’s an experience that’s dynamic, unpredictable, and darkly human, with three riveting leading performances at its center, and sets the bar the rest of what’s to come in Guadagnino’s directorial career.