Another film year has come and gone with 2021 proving that cinema is still as vibrant as ever. I was truly delighted by the year's many works of art which subverted and exceeded my expectations with their entertaining storytelling, unforgettable characters and impeccable craft. Without further ado, here are my 10 favourite films of 2021, including links to reviews for my fulsome thoughts on these precious gifts.
Honorable Mentions: President, Summer of Soul, Passing, Citizen Ashe
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The film's transcontinental journey begins in Afghanistan, where our narrator (using the alias Amin Nawabi to protect his identity) is growing up with his loving family of two parents, a brother and a sister. That family unit is soon broken apart, however, when his father is taken away by the Mujahideen during the Afghan Civil War. As the country becomes further embroiled in conflict and places the entire family in danger, they join the many others who are forced to become refugees. Thus begins a tumultuous life across several European countries as the family braves the world of human trafficking and unwelcoming immigration policies to find a new place to call home.
A sense of both personal and national histories unfolds as Nawabi recounts the awe-inspiring experiences which led to his present day life as an academic in Denmark. From the tense moments of social upheaval, to the subsequent treacherous voyages across land and sea, the scale of this journey is astounding. And as Rasmussen utilizes diversified animation styles and live action news footage from the time period, the film brilliantly illustrates the nuances of personal and collective memory. While some scenes use a more impressionistic approach with ill-defined lines and shapes, the constrasting archival footage and more fully sketched images intrinsically show how painful recollections of the past can be alternately unforgettable or hazy (intentionally or not).
Indeed, "Flee" is ultimately about the struggle to reclaim your past. As Nawabi reveals how he was forced to relinquish parts of his identity to survive, there's a palpable sense of relief in his voice. And as he forges his new identity, this already impactful story becomes even more complex through his own struggles with homosexuality. As he reflects on this aspect of his life - his amusing childhood infatuation with Jean-Clade Van Damme, his self-imposed torture about coming out - it builds to a cathartic climax to an already powerful life story conveyed with stunning artistry, visceral truth and sociopolitical resonance.
"The Green Knight" is the story of Sir Gawain (Dev Patel), the nephew of King Arthur. We meet him under inauspicious circumstances, as he leaves a brothel following his latest tryst with his lover Essel (Alicia Vikander in a showstopping dual performance). With no knightly title ascribed to him, he feels unfit to sit among the esteemed company at Camelot, where King Arthur is hosting a Christmas feast. Gawain's destiny may soon change, however, when the merry proceedings are interrupted by a mysterious visitor. This monstrous figure is revealed to be The Green Knight, who issues to a challenge to the brave men present. He dares a volunteer to deal him a fatal blow in what he describes as a "Christmas game", in exchange for his powerful green axe. Sensing an opportunity to improve his standing, Gawain steps up and successfully beheads tree-like creature. But as his decapitated victim reminds him while walking away with head in hand, the challenge requires Gawain to seek him out one year later to be similarly attacked. As the fateful date looms, Gawain must now summon the courage to embark on a foreboding journey to secure his coveted honor and legacy.
An epic adventure thus unfolds with the dashing Gawain looking every bit the knight aspires to be. Patel's is at his magnetic best, with a humility and vulnerability that really draws in the audience. His gentle, approachable demeanour invites us on this journey with him, fearful for what awaits.
Admittedly, "The Green Knight" is hardly action-packed in the usual sense. But that doesn't mean it's uneventful. In fact, the captivating narrative constantly tests his mettle along the way as he comes across violent strangers, supernatural occurrences, unforgiving natural elements and an imposing landscape. And it's all depicted with increasingly saturated, colorful cinematography, creating some of the most mesmerizing imagery of the year. Meanwhile, the score's ethereal choral motifs further instill a mythic atmosphere.
As this beguiling fantasia builds to its stunning conclusion, Lowery's heady (pun intended) screenplay asks pertinent questions of its protagonist and audience alike. What makes a man great or honourable? Or as Vikander's Essel asks, "is goodness not enough?" Lowery beautifully explores the answers, this noble but unequivocally foolish quest proves to be humbling and deeply satisfying. Among the many medieval depictions which celebrate reckless machismo, this boldly conceived film is a breath of fresh air.
The story begins in the aftermath of a war, when compatriots Lord Macbeth and Banquo encounter three witches with a premonition. They declare that Macbeth will be King and Bancquo will also father a dynasty of kings. Now with this idea of a prosperous future implanted in his head, Macbeth becomes obsessed with making it a reality. With the support of his equally power-hungry wife (Frances McDormand) the pair devise a scheme to assassinate the King. But their murderous scheme comes at a price for his sanity and physical safety, as violence begets more violence and his guilt overwhelms him.
With iconic quotes that have become repurposed by pop culture, Macbeth's subsequent decent into madness is well known. And Coen wisely maintains the rythmn and eloquence of Shakespeare's words. But this adaptation feels far from stage-bound thanks to the film's stunning visual aesthetic and performances. Coen's longtime collaborator Bruno Delbonnel is in fine form as cinematographer, capturing the shadowy interiors and foggy exteriors with shot compositions to die for. It is handly the best cinematography of the year. Likewise, the production design is simple but evocative, featuring stately gothic arches, towering walls, and seemingly endless hallways. The setting feels at once claustrophobic and grandiose. Altogether the visual design creates the chilling atmosphere for the poisonous corruption to fester.
With the scene set for this tale of paranoia and murderous betrayal, the masterful ensemble further brings forth its themes and emotions. As Macbeth, Denzel Washington makes Shakespeare's dialogue look easy, bringing a tortured realism through every furrowing of the brow, whispered ephiphany and furious cry of outrage. By his side, McDormand's knowing theatricality delights in both the regal poetry of the text and the character's carnal desire for power. Meanwhile, Kathryn is a scene-stealer with her superlative performance as the Witches, giving a contortionist physicality and feral vocal inflections that are simply unreal. The cast is nearly flawless, save for an out of place Ethan Hutchinson, who feels like he arrived directly from the "Queen Sugar" set and stayed in character.
Fortunately, this minor misstep doesn't detract from the overall experience. In the end, there's no denying the artistic excellence on display in Joel Coen's delicious cinematic take on "The Tragedy of Macbeth". Adaptations of this dark tale will come and go, but you won't forget this one anytime soon.
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Leda is portrayed brilliantly by Olivia Colman as a middle-aged professor who gets an unpleasant wake up call during her dream vacation in Greece. Not long after settling in to soak up the sun on the beach following check-in, she is greeted by a lively family of Italian-Americans. Among them is a young mother named Nina (Dakota Johnson) and her typically energetic young child. As she watches from afar, Leda becomes fascinated with Nina, who struggles to keep her daughter in line. Instantly, it brings back memories of her own challenges as a young mother to two girls, which significantly shaped her life. After the pair are introduced, Leda's interest in Nina turns dangerous, however, when she commits an inexplicable act of theft.
Leda's present-day theft is just the latest in a series of questionable decisions throughout her life, as seen in flashbacks to her younger self (played by Jessie Buckley). Tapping into the familiar daily struggles of parenting, Gyllenhaal's assured direction and Buckley's skilled performance authentically conveys these domestic scenes filled the grating soundtrack and physical labor of attention-demanding, crying children. Contrasted with the more jovial scenes of Caruso's more professional pursuits and social interactions, the film viscerally demonstrates the loss of self that can come with motherhood.
As the older Leda reveals later in the film, she is an unnatural mother. And while "The Lost Daughter" doesn't quite forgive her selfishness and neglect, Buckley and Colman expertly humanize the character under Gyllenhaal's sympathetic female gaze. The pair may not resemble each other, but they share a penchant for fully embodying flawed woman with unvarnished sharpness and specificity. Likewise, Dakota Johnson is perfectly alluring as Nina, utilizing her intense stare to disarming effect. And among the male cast, Colman's interactions with Ed Harris as her welcoming host and Paul Mescal as a charming hotel worker bring out a softer side to her prickly shell.
Indeed, the rich performances and honest screenplay generate remarkable empathy for an abrasive character. You may even find yourself being amused by and identifying with this objectively "bad" mother with low-key "Karen" tendencies. If you ask me, this accomplishment speaks to the minor miracle that is Maggie Gyllenhaal's "The Lost Daughter".
Indeed, Julie is instantly recognizable as a modern young woman, prone to changing her life trajectory as easily as she changes her hairstyle. When we meet her, she is studying medicine before subsequently dabbling in psychology and then photography. Unsure of her career path, it's hardly surprising that her love life is equally insecure. After striking up a relationship with an older comic artist named Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie), they quickly realize that they are at contrasting stages of life, particularly when it comes to Julie's hesitancy towards motherhood. As they work through their differences, however, Julie's life is further complicated when she becomes fascinated with another man (played by Herbert Nordrum) with a more carefree disposition.
While the plot outline may suggest otherwise, Trier and Vogt's screenplay pays no heed to the tired tropes of the manic pixie dream girl archetype. Fiercely independent, intelligent and more than a little self-serving, Julie is a fully realized character with a lot on her mind. Indeed, much of the film is reserved for contemplative moments which invite the audience to interpret her myriad inner thoughts expressed through her endlessly searching eyes. Reinsve is truly radiant in the role.
As Julie vivaciously moves through life, the filmmaking is equally dynamic, nimbly moving through the defined chapters as fluidly as its protagonist. Transitioning through extremes of comedy, drama and romance, Trier balances the tonal shifts brilliantly with the aid of the expressive music, moving performances and a perceptive screenplay. Composer Ola Fløttum's score alternately conveys the sweetness of a fairytale, the melancholy of a serious drama and the exuberant energy of a comedy through her up-tempo needle drops and simply expressive melodies. Meanwhile, Reinsve is perfectly matched with her on screen partners. Danielson Lie in especially amazing, as he is grounded and present in every scene, providing the perfect foil for Julie's restlessness. He injects crucial wisdom and gravitas to counter the film's equally necessary humor afforded by Reinsve's playfulness and the narrative's intermittent flights of fancy.
Indeed, some viewers may find Aksel to be the most likable and sensible character in the film. Indeed his traditional views on adulthood are reminiscent of conversations with my parents. But while her unfocused attitude may frustrate some, Trier's keen understanding of her perspective generates empathy for her outlook. Few films are as astute about the dual blessing and curse of the endless possibilities afforded today's millenials. As such, "The Worst Person in the World" feels like an instant touchstone of cinematic stories about my generation.
