Just In Time for the Oscars: Picks and The Best Films of 2017
One of the breakout stars of 2017 was an actress who found herself being celebrated for the work she’s done behind the camera. Greta Gerwig became only the fifth woman ever to be nominated Best Director. And when she was recently asked at a DGA event about her worst days on a set, she had such a beautiful, thoughtful response that ended up articulating her love for the medium. When I listened to her answer, I realized she tapped into something I was never able to articulate on my own. Talking about the pressures of directing she said:
Every single minute you spend doing one thing [on a film set] is a minute you don’t spend doing something else because it’s one of the very few timed art forms. And that is true of all of life. Every minute you spend doing one thing you’re not spending that minute doing something else but there is a vividness to it when you’re making a film that you suddenly feel your own mortality in a great way.
And then I think when you go and watch a movie that touches you [in] some way you feel your mortality. You feel that end. You feel that parenthesis. And I think that experience of that clarity of the minutes as they fly is a very terrifying and very beautiful place to live.
I can’t think of a better sentiment to start this piece off because I lived in some terrifying and beautiful places in 2017. These were the best.
1. Dunkirk
A number of war films are praised for the way they depict the enemy. In the harrowing opening to Saving Private Ryan, the enemy is shot as a collection of anonymous figures. In wider compositions of expertly-choreographed, terrible mayhem, the Germans are barely visible in the distance. We sense rather than witness their movement amid chaotic bunkers. Up close, they are the dull shadows behind flashes of artillery fire. When the enemies are ready for their closeup, its as if a documentary crew had been granted access to shoot them, but it’s usually from behind for fear we see their faces. Spielberg doesn’t want to show us the enemy face — at least not in the early going.
Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line often uses a similar approach when covering the enemy but — not unlike Spielberg — the director makes a shift midway through and allows for a more intimate, human experience with some Japanese soldiers. At one point, we hover over a post-mortar earth and the Japanese soldier buried within a natural grave of war. Malick takes this moment to remind us that the enemy is almost never evil or wicked; their presence is the spoiled fruit of our supposed betters politics. His lifeless face is just barely visible, as his ghost ponders:
Are you righteous? Kind? Does your confidence lie in this? Are you loved by all? Know that I was, too. Do you imagine your suffering will be any less because you loved goodness and truth?
Dunkirk double downs on Spielberg’s early approach, taking it a step further by incorporating it in the rest of the film… the enemy is nowhere to be seen in the objective sense; they are heard and they are felt. Rarely are they seen. Our protagonist early on (played by Fionn Whitehead) sees them. We do not. We don’t need to. The fear in Whitehead’s eyes tell us everything we need to know. The enemy is not made up of individual souls that are part of a larger, horrifying monstrous machine. In Dunkirk, the monster is the enemy as an almost abstract whole (I don’t even think they are referred to as “Germans”). And despite abandoning individual profiles, Nolan manages to avoid stereotype or two-dimensional representations of German soldiers. They are not the story. Their ideology or whether or not they even agree with the ideology of the Third Reich, is not the story. They are a black hole on the periphery, sucking everything up. They are an entity whose lack of individual characteristics makes us fear them even more, that this depicted abstraction simply cannot be defeated. The machine, the monster, can only be escaped. Maybe.
Nolan’s decision to paint the enemy with an impersonal, mechanized brush shouldn’t work as well as it does, but he counterbalances this with protagonists nearly as anonymous as the enemy! It is this approach towards his protagonists that will thrill or divide viewers. Coupled with his use of time, Nolan’s bold decision to tell us virtually nothing about the main protagonists, to let the purity of their actions do most of the emotional legwork, is essential to the monumental narrative success of this masterpiece.
There are no scenes where we get to see who these soldiers were back home in England. We never hear them talk about their lives or their dreams… because (with few exceptions) from the moment the film starts, our protagonists are running, flying, swimming, hiding, scamming, clawing for their lives. It is only on a purely emotional level that they become less anonymous. We watch these nameless figures not as fully-developed characters but as fellow human beings in extreme positions that bare a physical and emotional toll that we can only fail to imagine — but in our empathy — try anyway. We follow them, witness their struggle as the deck continues to get stacked against them, as the traps and realities of war come barging in against their attempts to live (opening with our main protagonist trying — and continuously failing — to take a shit, is a masterstroke. We may not know anything about him, but we all know what it feels like to want to “go” and are forced to wait. Now add flying bullets). From one moment to the next, this is a game of survival. We never completely understand who these individuals are, but we do not need to in order to empathize. Their actions are so desperate and so authentic, we get sucked into rooting for total strangers.
Nolan is a man obsessed with time and how he can play with time in a narrative. Memento, Inception and Interstellar especially are fascinating examples of how time can effect the narrative and editing in such a way that it adds to the cinematic experience. He is able to juxtapose sequences that chronologically would never work as dramatically effective as they do when he is able to tinker. Dunkirk is no different. Once again, Nolan’s use of time is novel and bold and allows the film’s various threads to combine for one of the most thrilling and intense climaxes I’ve ever seen (aided by Hans Zimmer’s bombastic use of anxiety-inducing shepard tones). As it all unfolds, Nolan’s humanist approach to the Dunkirk story reveals itself to be a celebration of Britain’s can-do spirit. Not unlike The Last Jedi, the film understands the importance of symbols and the role moral victories may play in galvanizing perhaps the masses, perhaps most important weapon in times of war and emerging desolation.
I knew leaving the theater last summer I wasn’t likely to see a better film in 2017. I was right.
2. Blade Runner 2049
From the opening frames of Denis Villanueve’s sci-fi noir— a cold collection of ideas about where we might be headed as a race layered with philosophical questions about the nature of existence — it was clear I was in the hands of a filmmaker who could forge beauty out of chaos and emotions that simmer from the artificial. Yes, it moves at an almost glacial pace at times, but this only allows the viewer to absorb and truly enjoy an audio-visual experience unlike anything else released last year.
The ideas in Blade Runner 2049 are not new. It is a continuation of the concepts Phillip K. Dick introduced in “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” and others that Ridley Scott and his collaborators introduced in the original movie. Films such as Spike Jonze’s delightful love story, Her, are borrowed from heavily. Yet there is a propulsive energy, an eerie darkness and a romanticism that works seamlessly amid the film noir and science-fiction elements that blends into something wholly unique. Nothing captures these elements better than the jaw-dropping cinematography by Roger Deakins who will finally win that elusive Oscar for Best Cinematography. And if he doesn’t, who cares? He is a legend and Blade Runner 2049 will likely begin any conversation about the masterful director of photography.
The performances throughout are pitch-perfect. Gosling is an ideal cypher. Ana de Armas is a heartbreaking symbol of self-discovery and love. She is in many ways the emotional center. Some viewers are going to be surprised by the quiet, nuanced work by Dave Batista in a short stint. Sylvia Hoeks is so good as an emotionally confused, bratty Veruca Salt on steroids. Meanwhile, Mackenzie Davis, Carla Juri, Robin Wright all do really interesting work. Harrison Ford, however, is next-level great here. For an actor at times accused of phoning it in towards the end of his prime, it is a treat to see how committed he’s been in returning to two of his most iconic roles (Han Solo previously, and now Rick Deckard).
You have to wait a good while before he shows up (at least an hour and a half into what amounts to an almost 3 hour film), but when Ford does, the whole affair hits another gear entirely. It’s one of his best performances and my favorite bit of acting he does is also in my favorite shot captured by Roger Deakins. It takes place in Niander Wallace’s blind man lair (Which is one of the great sets of the year. It’s dimly-lit, aquatic, bouncing with light against shadows that move about stealthily and with real menace). Wallace, brilliantly portrayed by Jared Leto (I know!), is a wonderful, memorable villain. In the aforementioned scene, he tries to pry a key piece of information out of Deckard, attempting to emotionally manipulate the former blade runner through threats and temptation.
It is one of those examples of the shadows moving stealthily and menacingly, as a deep blanket slides over the actor’s face and you somehow capture even more emotion in the absence of light.
For the briefest of moments, in those shadows, the actor almost appears to be molded of clay; he’s a golem. It’s one of Ford’s finest moments; the cinematographer’s too.
The violence in Blade Runner 2049 is the result of human folly and ego. The series has always been (in part) about humankind’s ever-evolving Manifest Destiny and the evil that follows, typically in the form of genocide and/or enslavement. Leto’s Wallace, is the perfect stand-in for the terrible flaws of the human race — a species that, at its worst, is both obsessed and disappointed with their own genius in the face of divine ambition. His inability to solve the mystery his predecessor, Dr. Eldon Tyrell, unlocked (“how to get androids to reproduce?”) is an attack on his own ego and the result is a bottled fury that unleashes in savage ways. Wallace believes in the human race’s superiority, but he also believes they are frustratingly behind their own tale of destiny.
We make angels in the service of civilization. Yes, there were bad angels, once. I make good angels now. That is how I took us to nine new worlds.
Nine.
A child can count to nine on fingers. We should own the stars.
Every leap of civilization was built on the back of a disposable work force. We lost our stomach for slaves… unless engineered. But I can only make so many.
We would own the stars but were it for the morality at the heart of our guts.
Villanueve does not answer definitively the question of whether or not Deckard is an android and I love that choice so much because it only emphasizes the philosophical questions the film poses. In a brilliant echo to this question, Ryan Gosling’s K, referencing the dog that Deckard keeps with him asks, “Is it real?”. Deckard’s response is succinct, perfect.
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
Blade Runner 2049 poses more questions than it answers. We are lucky that a studio produced a blockbuster (however disappointing it performed) that dares to challenge viewers as much as it aims to entertain.
3. Three Buildboards outside Ebbing, Missouri
My favorite collection of characters and actors can be found in Martin McDonagh’s dark and darkly funny dramedy. I loved these people and these performances. Frances McDormand, Sam Rockwell and Woody Harrelson in particular are so damn good here and it has been great to see the three of them continue to get recognized throughout the award season. The trio get terrific support from Abbie Cornish, Peter Dinklage, Lucas Hedges, Zeljko Ivanek, Sandy Martin, Clarke Peters, John Hawkes, Caleb Landry Jones and a very funny Samara Weaving, who, with her eyes and patterns of speech, basically steals the two scenes in which she appears.
McDonagh, however, is the real star of the film. The playwright-turned-filmmaker’s dialogue is as sharp as ever. He makes you laugh one minute, punches you in the gut the next, and then makes you laugh again. And the story he’s telling takes some unexpected turns. I never quite knew where the film was taking me from one scene to the next.
You could easily make the case that McDormand’s character is, for the most part, a terrible human being. You’re laughing with her one minute, wagging a finger the next. Most of the time, these reactions happen simultaneously. It’s a role deserving of McDormand’s talents. Rockwell’s character, meanwhile, is a racist and an imbecile (these things usually follow). But McDonagh gets you rooting for these terrible people who — at various points — at least mean well. And it would have been so easy to make a villain of Woody Harrelson’s Chief Willoughby. McDonagh instead makes him the wisest and most decent of all of the characters in the film. He is, in a sense, the true hero of the movie when you consider the reverberated impact of his inherent goodness.
The film shares Willoughby’s values of to think first, act second, to avoid violence whenever necessary and embrace tolerance. It acknowledges we do not live in a utopian society. Our world includes the worst of humanity’s offerings which include, but are not limited to, rape and murder. The film accepts the varied dimensionality of our own nature and in the spectrum of good and evil, most of us aren’t in the extreme ends of either. Most of us are in the eternal struggle that is the middle. So it’s a plea to the wife abuser to stop their violence against women. It’s a plea to the angry and bitter to make better use of their emotions, however justified those emotions may be. It’s a plea to the bigot to abandon fear and embrace love. It’s a plea to those who often discourage others to instead believe and hope for the best in people. It’s a plea not to wrong others as they may have wronged you, despite the temptation to do so. The film acknowledges deep flaws in human nature but reminds us we can do and be better. Our worst sins may not be forgiven easily or at all, but it’s never too late to become a better person, even if it’s in the slightest way.
McDonagh’s film is a real original with as pitch-perfect an ending as you’re likely to see.
4. The Phantom Thread
It’s gotten a little boring talking about how great a filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson is so I promise not to heap praises on the man for delivering another exquisite, near-flawless work. There Will Be Blood is a towering masterpiece but what is often missed is how funny it is and the dry humor that I loved so much in that film returns in Anderson’s reunion with Day-Lewis, only The Phantom Thread’s laughs might have an even more wicked undercurrent.
Vicky Krieps and Daniel Day-Lewis are uniformly excellent and often, quite amusing. But I love Lesley Manville’s character as Reynolds Woodcock’s so-and-so: she’s a sister, a mother, a gatekeeper and an enforcer. And I love the scene late in the film where Woodcock goes pleading for her help not by actually pleading but by venting and complaining in the hopes she will do something to help him out of his predicament. The turn the scene takes made me reevaluate everything I thought I knew about her character.
There are great endings and then there are great endings. The Phantom Thread’s final meal is so delicious, so outrageous and inexplicably romantic in the most punk way that it enters the latter pantheon. Day-Lewis is so funny in this scene, playing out a dare in slow-motion with a confident Krieps who does not, as she warns earlier in the film, lose a staring contest. The more I thought about this movie and the more I listened to Jonny Greenwood’s beautiful score, the higher this film moved up my ranks.
5. Star Wars: The Last Jedi
I wrote a whole lot about Star Wars and The Last Jedi last week so feel free to read about my thoughts RIGHT HERE.
If that’s not satisfying enough, and if the Star Wars post is a wee bit too long for your tastes, below are three snippets that will give you an idea as to where I stand.
…The biggest risk Johnson makes is to take the most carefully guarded franchise in the business and dare to make it about something. His script is the most thematically rich of the franchise and it stays true to itself from beginning to end. It waxes philosophically and in the most meta way about what we need to take from our pasts (and the franchises of our youths) — if anything at all. Do we just “Let the past die…kill it [if we] have to?”, as Kylo suggests? Do the mistakes of the past (coughprequelscough) mean the past has no value?
…We have never seen a Jedi do what Luke does in the last act of this film. And the reveal is glorious because it’s fan service done in the least fan servicey way. Johnson knows that audiences want to see what type of Jedi Luke has become. He understands fans want to see Luke in the most bad-ass of modes. And he shows remarkable restraint, wisely avoiding a CGI-Luke going ballistic with a lightsaber. What Luke does in the closing moments of The Last Jedi is more profound and interesting and original than any of that.
….As much as The Last Jedi continues to tell the stories of it’s new lead characters, make no mistake… this is Luke’s film. If this is not clear midway through, it will be obvious once Luke delivers the biggest mic drop in the galaxy. It’s Rian Johnson’s big wet smack of a kiss to Mark Hamill and his iconic character. And I love the film so much for being that.
For more of my extended thoughts on The Last Jedi, including a list of my favorite scenes not only in Rian Johnson’s film but The Force Awakens as well, you can read the original post RIGHT HERE.
6. mother!
I have so many thoughts about Darren Aronofsky’s latest work and they are forthcoming in another post I’m working on. Since I won’t finish in time for the Oscars, here’s a taste:
…The success of these provocations is in part by how effortlessly the film seduces us so that its protagonist’s point-of-view becomes our own. Aronofsky straps us in with Jennifer Lawrence (playing an unnamed character), following her around, experiencing everything with her as it happens: all the strangeness, the confounding decisions made by Javier Bardem’s similarly unnamed poet, the rude, obnoxious behavior of the mysterious guests that arrive in her home, their uncovered agendas and exposed lies, the betrayals and — in the film’s mind-bending final 30 minutes — the unhinged madness that populates her home and pushes her to an emotional brink. All of it thrusts the viewer into the sort of sensory immediacy “only a true, passionate filmmaker” (Martin Scorsese’s words, no less) could achieve. These sequences are made up of images that come flying at the viewer with a ferocity that is surely designed to take us out of our comfort zones. And so effective is the seduction that before we know it, we find ourselves on unsure footing, walking on a tightrope of emotions while Aronofsky shakes the wire.
7. The Post
The Post was one of the biggest surprises for me in 2017. I had no doubt it was going to be good, but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I was honestly questioning how much Spielberg had left in the tank. I enjoyed his previous three efforts. But The BFG, fun and whimsical as it may be, was no E.T. Bridge of Spies was a very solid spy drama, but it was Spielberg in a lower, dryer key. And Lincoln was one of my very favorite films of the year, but I mostly credited the filmmaker for showing restraint with that film, mostly taking a back seat and letting Daniel Day-Lewis and Tony Kushner’s fantastic script do most of the heavy lifting.
I am happy to say reports of Spielberg’s decline have been grossly exaggerated. The filmmaker is flat-out masterful here. He has a very good script and some great actors but this time he’s the one doing all the heavy-lifting because it ain’t easy making a movie about a bunch of men standing around talking to one another as intense, as interesting and entertaining as The Post ends up being. Spielberg has always had an innate talent for brilliant blocking that sets up perfect shots and that’s never been more true than in his latest film.
I really admire the efficiency of the storytelling and how immediate it feels. It’s kind of astonishing how timely The Post feels in the current political and cultural climate. It wears its feminism as a badge of honor and it celebrates the first amendment by not only reminding viewers that we came face-to-face with the dangers of totalitarianism in the past, but by showing how better off we are as a country for having the types of first amendment victories that helped sweep away those dangers.
Tom Hanks is a lot of fun as Ben Bradlee and it’s great to see him sink his teeth into a role like this. But I really want to talk about that Meryl Streep…
Streep is pure excellence. I don’t know what the real Kay Graham was like, but I really like the choices made in the script and the way Streep portrays her: which is as a woman who has conformed to the world around her, a patriarchal society that largely ignores the voice of the other gender. Streep’s Graham is used to being silenced or talked over or not being taken seriously to the point that she hasn’t the confidence that she actually has anything substantial or interesting to offer. She is, after all, just a woman. But as responsibility is forced upon her, the sort of responsibility men like her father and late husband often had to bear, she begins tip-toeing towards embracing that responsibility. She has opportunities to walk the other way, and dump those responsibilities onto someone else — a man, obviously. Slowly, but surely, however, she finds her own footing and her own voice and it is a pleasure watching Streep hit all of these notes not only because she is such an amazing actress — our best, really — but also because it was 2017 and now its 2018 and The Post is like a mirror that also shows you the past reflecting back at you.
8. Lost City of Z
I’ve already expressed all of my thoughts about James Gray’s rabbit-hole of a film earlier this year. You can read my thoughts right here but an edited version of its closing paragraph summarizes my feelings:
… there is something about Gray’s jungle that keeps calling me back. I can’t quite get it out of my head. I have no desire to either. I want to drink the whole film in again and again… This is a film grander than the sum of its parts and if it infects you the way it infected me, I suppose you will be as grateful and obsessive a viewer as I have become. When they are so effectively portrayed, these obsessions are viral and no celluloid or digital platform may contain them.
9. Lady Bird
My Greta Gerwig crush began with her raw, honest performance in Greenberg and practically exploded into a lovefest when she co-wrote and starred in Frances Ha. In that Noah Baumbach film, her Frances — who isn’t yet a “real person” by her estimation — is quirky, lovable and oddly relatable. This lovable, relatable, quirky spirit is similarly found in her directorial debut, Lady Bird, a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age story that focuses on a young, talented girl finding her place in the world and a mother doing her best to make sure that place isn’t some gutter.
Lady Bird is a great mother-daughter movie but it never wallows too long in melodrama and never oversteps in its comedy. Gerwig deserves a lot of credit for finding that balance that allows the movie to breeze by while also giving you time to invest emotionally with these characters.
There are some very funny and truly touching moments in Lady Bird. Saoirse Ronan is a real force to be reckoned with as a young girl who is struggling to find herself and not become a disappointing person to her parents. These often tug in different directions. And Laurie Metcalf, a superb actress we just don’t see enough of these days, gives a heartbreaking and lovely performance as a flawed mother just doing her best.
10. A Ghost Story
The biggest surprise of the year was David Lowery’s elegiac and metaphysical drama about a man (Casey Affleck) who struggles to leave his home — even after he dies in a car accident. After death, he is a ghost in the most generic and prototypical sense… a white sheet with cut out eye sockets. He returns (from the morgue) and begins spending most of his time watching his mourning wife (Rooney Mara).
The less I say, the better. I thought I knew where A Ghost Story was going, but I did not. I greatly underestimated Lowery’s intentions and ambitions. I thought I was getting some lame supernatural Nicholas Sparks movie but what I actually got was a lot weirder and more fulfilling.
I will say this though: it takes serious balls to make a film — a drama, no less — depicting a ghost in such a silly and childish manner. Early scenes depicting Affleck’s ghost contain a low decibel of humor. Lowery knows it’s a ridiculous image. He knows audiences will think its a ridiculous image. And yet he’s going to change what this iconography means to you; the silliness will refract on itself and with that Lowery conjures imagery both haunting and extraordinarily beautiful. The simplicity of the image, of the iconic ghost costume, is actually not something to overcome. It is his greatest visual weapon.
A Ghost Story was one of the more fascinating and powerful experiences I had in 2017. The score by Daniel Hart is among the best of the year. It’s not a film I would recommend to everyone, but I use a litmus test for when people ask me if they should see it. If you dig this, see the movie.
Runner Ups
2017 was such a good year I could have easily made two top tens without any repeats and still pack them with some great movies. In fact, I did!
11. The Shape of Water — I loved Guillermo Del Toro’s adult fable. It’s a tale of outsiders finding their voice and I haven’t even mentioned the fish man… I completely understand why it’s an Oscar favorite. In a normal year, it would easily have cracked my top ten.
12. Baby Driver — Two of the best times I had in a theater were my two visits to see Baby Driver. This movie, with its rocking soundtrack, is just insanely fun. The cast is insanely great, but Jon Hamm is my MVP. I hope it wins the award for Film Editing.
13. I, Tonya — After Three Billboards and Baby Driver, this is my favorite group of performers in 2017. Margot Robbie’s stock has gone way up.
14. Get Out — Jordan Peele’s fun, suspenseful mind-bender was one of the surprise breakout hits of the year. I love that Peele is now an Oscar nominated director. It’s an awesome reflection of how the Academy is continuing to grow more open-minded by what makes an “Oscar film”. Gone are the days where only the stuffiest of dramas have a chance. Oh, and I think it just might win Best Picture on Sunday.
15. Wonder — I can’t believe I loved this movie. On paper, it’s a Hallmark movie but Stephen Chbosky somehow elevates the material by capturing what made the book so special to so many people.
16. The Big Sick — This movie has high rewatchability factor as I’ve already seen it twice since it’s been on Amazon Prime and would easily see it again. Its funny and manages to be light on its feet, despite the subject matter. I’m a little surprised Holy Hunter or even Ray Romano didn’t get nominated.
17. Molly’s Game — Aaron Sorkin’s directorial debut is undeniably entertaining and features one of the best openings to any movie this year.
18. The Beguiled — Sophia Coppola’s sensual remake is an interesting and really well-observed look at gender politics. It makes for a nice double-feature with The Phantom Thread too.
19. Wind River — Taylor Sheridan’s superior thriller features a great shoot-out, a surprising narrative and a strong performance by Jeremy Renner. I think five people have seen this movie. That needs to change.
20. TIE: Roman J. Israel Esq/The Square — Ruben Ostlund’s The Square is sprinkled with some wonderful, original and uniquely staged scenes but it also features the most captivating, what-the-F-is-going-on-scene of the 2017. It’s an odd bird, but I’m an odd bird.
Roman J. Israel Esq. would have easily made my top ten. I loved what this film was aiming for, and I think Denzel Washington is incredible in the movie, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the film’s final 20 minutes felt a little too neat and false.
… and that about does it. I easily could have done another ten. 2017 was a a damn good year at the movies.
If I Were The Academy…
MY PICK FOR BEST PICTURE — Dunkirk
Runner Up: Blade Runner 2049
What will win: Get Out
MY PICK FOR BEST DIRECTOR — Christopher Nolan, Dunkirk
Runner Up: Darren Aronofsky, mother!
Who will win: Guillermo Del Toro, The Shape of Water
MY PICK FOR BEST ACTOR — Denzel Washington, Roman J. Israel Esq
Runner Up: James McAvoy, Split
Who will win: Gary Oldman, The Darkest Hour
MY PICK FOR BEST ACTRESS — Frances McDormand, Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri
Runner Up: Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water
Who win win: Frances McDormand, Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri
MY PICK FOR BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR — Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri
Runner Up: Michael Stuhlbarg, Call Me By Your Name
Who will win: Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri
MY PICK FOR BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS — Laurie Metcalf, Lady Bird
Runner Up: Lesly Manville, The Phantom Thread
Who will win: Allison Janney, I, Tonya
MY PICK BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY — Martin McDonagh, Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri
Runner Up: Paul Thomas Anderson, The Phantom Thread
Who will win: Jordan Peele, Get Out
MY PICK FOR BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY —Aaron Sorkin, Molly’s Game
Runner Up: James Gray, The Lost City of Z
Who will win: James Ivory, Call Me By Your Name
MY PICK FOR BEST FILM EDITING — Paul Machliss and Jonathan Amos, Baby Driver
Runner Up: Lee Smith, Dunkirk
Who will win: Lee Smith, Dunkirk
MY PICK FOR BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY — Roger Deakins, Blade Runner 2049
Runner Up: Matthew Libatique, mother!
Who will win: Roger Deakins, Blade Runner 2049
MY PICK FOR BEST SCORE — Jonny Greenwood, The Phantom Thread
Runner Up: Hans Zimmer, Dunkirk
Who will win: Alexandre Desplat, The Shape of Water
MY PICK FOR PRODUCTION DESIGN — Paul Denham Austerberry (Production Design); Shane Vieau and Jeffrey A. Melvin (Set Decoration), The Shape of Water
Runner Up: Dennis Gassner (Production Design); Alessandra Querzola (Set Decoration), Blade Runner 2049
Who will win: Paul Denham Austerberry (Production Design); Shane Vieau and Jeffrey A. Melvin (Set Decoration), The Shape of Water
If you want to read my thoughts on the best television program of 2017, check out my thoughts on the last season of The Leftovers.
I also have a lot to say about nostalgia and what’s working in the latest Star Wars trilogy.
Read my deep-dive on The Lost City of Z.
Follow me on Twitter!
