Last post, I had a look at numbers twenty to eleven of my favourite films of 2018. Therefore, it stands to reason that in this post I shall take a look at numbers ten to one of my favourite films of 2018. So, let's do that.
10. Avengers: Infinity War
The premise of Avengers: Infinity War is so inherently ambitious that you can forgive any of its flaws due to the fact that they pulled it off at all. Superhero films have a storied history of collapsing under the weight of an overstuffed cast; just look back at the infamous Spider-Man 3 and Amazing Spider-Man 2 or even the Avengers’ own Age of Ultron. Infinity War succeeds where those films have failed thanks to Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely’s remarkably efficient screenplay and the Russo brothers’ emotionally detailed direction. The character development is embedded ingeniously into the narrative, as the situations the heroes (and the villains) are placed in directly challenge them and flesh them out. All of this contributes to the film’s core debate, as Thanos’ actions force everyone to question how much sacrifice is ethical when serving the greater good. It’s essentially an intergalactic version of the trolley problem, but blowing it up to such spectacular proportions heightens the stakes significantly, resulting in a superhero film that’s huge without being devoid of substance. Consequently, it’s arguably the best MCU entry yet.
9. You Were Never Really Here
Lynne Ramsay is one of Britain’s greatest directors and she does not get nearly enough recognition. Maybe the reason she’s underappreciated is that she stays uncompromisingly true to her unique vision, but that’s also why she’s such an incredible filmmaker. You Were Never Really Here is another striking example of her talent, transforming a potentially conventional thriller into something mesmerising and poetic. Ramsay has crafted a rich character study, but you wouldn't know it if you don't pay close attention. All of Joe's character, masterfully performed by Joaquin Phoenix, is baked into the film's mise-en-scène and pieced together by its fascinatingly fractured editing. It's a testament to the power of the show-don't-tell approach, a staple of Ramsay's filmmaking and the perfect way to take advantage of the full potential of cinema. It forces an audience to be actively engaged at all times and conveys deeper nuances with greater creativity and resonance. You Were Never Really Here is a brutal and brilliantly accomplished example of this and I hope it serves to elevate Ramsay to the status she deserves.
There’s something about the Wild West that deeply fascinates me, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Maybe it’s the isolation; the sense of living deep within a vast, unforgiving landscape cutting you off from the usual structures of society. Maybe it’s the instability; the totally unpredictable way of life and the constant feeling of risk and danger. Or maybe it’s the potential; the diverse number of stories that can be told and characters that can be explored in such a setting. Whatever it is, the Coen Brothers’ western anthology film The Ballad of Buster Scruggs thoroughly taps into it. The Coens bring together six uniquely compelling stories to form one completely captivating whole, delving deep into the heart of America in all of its grisly and absurd glory. The Coens navigate a wide range of tones and themes with the prowess you’d expect, managing to find some sincerely touching moments amidst the offbeat dark humour they’re known for. Altogether, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is an experience that’s as ingeniously intriguing as it is brilliantly entertaining.
Wes Anderson's utterly idiosyncratic approach to filmmaking is definitely a divisive one and his latest film certainly isn't going to gain many converts. However, for those like me who already love him, Isle of Dogs is an absolute delight. Returning to the stop-motion style of 2009’s brilliant Fantastic Mr. Fox, Anderson and the animators manage to draw stunning beauty out of some of the coldest, grittiest landscapes ever featured in any of his films. The voice actors breathe wonderfully quirky life into their canine characters, giving the dogs personalities that feel like real people rather than cartoon characters. Much debate has arisen over how Anderson treats Japanese culture, but he seems to handle it with more respect and depth than some have argued. This is most apparent in Alexandre Desplat's phenomenal score, which makes sure to leave space for a number of songs from Japanese musicians as well as his own compositions. Frequently infused with Anderson’s trademark deadpan humour and enhanced by a thoughtful allegorical subtext with numerous possible interpretations, Isle of Dogs is another irresistibly charming addition to the stop-motion animation subgenre.
6. A Quiet Place
John Krasinski makes his directorial debut with by far the most effective thriller of 2018. An utterly ingenious high-concept idea, A Quiet Place practically drags you to the edge of your seat with overwhelming tension. You could argue that certain elements don't make much sense in retrospect, but whilst watching the film you're too gripped by fear to notice any of it. Krasinski achieves this by doing two crucial things right. Firstly, this film does not waste a single second of its refreshingly tight 91-minute running time. Krasinski ensures that every frame serves a purpose; if it doesn't contribute to increasing your heart rate, it's not going to be there. Secondly, Krasinski makes you care completely about the characters. The film's central family is developed with thorough depth, alongside a first-class cast delivering authentic performances, ensuring you feel all the terror that they do. It's also amusing to note that Michael Bay produced this film, despite it being pretty much the antithesis of his usual bloated and ear-splitting approach to filmmaking. Instead, it’s a finely tuned and extremely enthralling experience that exploits our innate fear of silence for maximum chills.
The year's most uncompromising and provocative satire, Sorry to Bother You is another remarkably accomplished debut, this time from writer/director Boots Riley. Ruthlessly critiquing every woe capitalism has to offer, Riley utilises the trusty art of surrealism to hilarious and horrifying effect. When a black telemarketer achieves success beyond his wildest dreams by using his 'white voice’, the darkest, most grotesque evils of capitalist success start to reveal themselves. Lakeith Stanfield’s Cassius Green is the film's central character study, exposing the process of seduction and corruption that keeps the system (and those oppressed by it) in place. Riley naturally observes it all from an African-American perspective and the prejudice and discrimination faced by his community are deconstructed just as thoroughly through his sharp satirical eye. Despite the extensive range of targets, Riley's filmmaking holds everything together with a vibrant aesthetic, absurd sense of humour and an eclectic, genre-blending score. The viewing experience may not be an entirely comfortable one for many, but that's exactly what makes it one of 2018’s stand out films.
Debra Granik's Leave No Trace is a masterclass in the art of subtlety. Whilst its premise of a father and daughter living off the grid can be compared to 2016’s Captain Fantastic, the execution is wildly different. Leave No Trace is a far more understated and intimate film. What's remarkable about it is how it manages to explore a number of themes of substantial depth without becoming overcrowded and obvious. Granik achieves this by integrating these ideas organically into the events of the film and the interactions within the central father/daughter relationship. Parental responsibility, mental health and - most significantly - what it means to have a home are a handful of the discussions provoked so thoughtfully through Granik's delicate and perceptive direction. All of this is enhanced exponentially by the astonishing work done by Ben Foster and Thomasin McKenzie, who convey so much nuance and complexity in their performances that you can't help but believe wholeheartedly in their characters. Leave No Trace is a beautifully immersive film that achieves such powerful authenticity by staying true to the principle that less is more.
Guillermo Del Toro’s wonderfully weird gothic romance The Shape of Water was an undeniably surprising Academy Award winner. Considering how long it had been since a fantasy film received the Oscar for Best Picture, however, it was also a welcome one. The Shape of Water is certainly a bizarre film, but Del Toro crafts it so skilfully and bewitchingly that you totally, unreservedly buy into it. There’s a solid atmospheric balance created between the enchanting fantasy at the forefront and the Cold War tensions brewing in the background. The result is something that is equally beautiful and thrilling, not because the filmmaking eclipses the stranger elements but because it emphasises and enhances them. At the centre of the film is the relationship between the mute Eliza and the captive Amphibian Man. It seems unusual on paper but Del Toro treats it with utter sincerity, conveying an attitude of affirmation that permeates throughout the film and its cast of historically marginalised groups. Throw in one of the best scores of the year and fantastically inventive production design, and you've got yourself an incredible, dazzling film.
It’s still not easy to believe that the makers of The Emoji Movie created the most original superhero film and the most original animated film in decades. It’s no more easy to believe that they did it with Spider-Man. How on earth this film was made is beyond me but the fact is it’s here and I couldn’t be happier. Into the Spider-Verse is a kaleidoscopic masterpiece. It embraces true comic book madness to dizzying effect, with a uniquely striking visual style that finally deviates from the polished Pixar look in favour of something that isn’t afraid to clash with itself. The script is equally subversive, gleefully and irreverently playing with superhero tropes and somehow finding a fresh - and no less compelling - angle on the iconic Spider-Man story. It’s also frequently genuinely heartfelt, not forgetting to flesh out its characters amidst the chaotic spectacle. Most importantly, Into the Spider-Verse is underpinned by a message of diversity and co-operation, in which differences are not only celebrated but intentionally brought together to achieve even greater things.
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is everything I want in a film. It is equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking, flawlessly balancing comedy and tragedy to uncover something truly profound. Whilst it touches on a range of subjects, at its core Three Billboards is an exploration of the limitations of anger and the painful, but ultimately invaluable, road to reconciliation. Writer/director Martin McDonagh has exquisitely crafted an ensemble of rich and complicated characters with believable and difficult relationships, performed perfectly by a (rightfully) Oscar-winning cast. However, the film’s setting is just as important (hence its place in the title), imbuing everything with a fascinating sense of isolation and obscurity. There has been some political controversy surrounding Three Billboards, but I think that entirely misses the point of the film. The characters hold political beliefs, but the focus is on empathising with the human beings beyond that. That dehumanising them through a desire for retribution is only going to be destructive for everyone. Ultimately, Three Billboards is best summarised by the fact that the heart of its message is found in one of its funniest jokes; as one character sagely quotes from a bookmark, “all this anger begets greater anger.”
Comments
Post a Comment