Top Ten Films of 2017
What a year.
2017 was a long, strange year. Thankfully, we had movies. While I wish I could’ve seen more, here are ten favorites and some thoughts on each one.
1. A Ghost Story
With A Ghost Story, David Lowery takes a whimsical image, that of a Charlie Brown-esque ghost (a person under a sheet) and manages to explore themes like loss, grief, the inevitability of the passage of time, existence, love, marital strife, and more.
Relatable even in its most emotionally ambitious moments, A Ghost Story presents a sombering glimpse at love, life, philosophy, time, and more.
2. Blade Runner 2049
Blade Runner 2049 is one of the most faithful sequels I’ve ever seen. It’s a gorgeous, thoughtful, and haunting experience that plays to the strengths of director Denis Villeneuve, its stars, its composer, and, honestly, everyone involved.
A sequel released thirty-five years after the original, with a (mostly) different creative team shouldn’t be this effective. I was surprised by how true to the thematic and visual language of the original this film was, and by expanding the world without artificially raising the emotional stakes, Blade Runner 2049 is a faithful tribute to the first film without feeling tired or redundant. Discussing details of the plot is almost impossible without venturing into some spoilers, so I won’t touch it. Suffice to say, the deliberate pace and symbolic imagery you’ve come to expect are present, and the expansion of the world, its conflicts, and Deckard’s story are all developed organically.
Blade Runner 2049 surprised me. It doesn’t surpass the original, but it doesn’t have to. It expands the world, deepens the characterization, and further develops themes from its predecessor. It’s a faithful, beautiful sequel, and a suitably ponderous science fiction film in its own right. Denis Villeneuve delivers again, and further proves why he’s one of the most exciting directors working today.
3. The Disaster Artist
Absurd and heartwarming in equal measure, The Disaster Artist finds James Franco and co. exploring the zany lengths one man will go to achieve his dream. Like last year’s La La Land, The Disaster Artist is about dreamers and their struggles to reach their goals. Where this film differs, of course, is that its lead isn’t an attractive actress or talented musician, but an offbeat outcast with greasy black hair and unique accent.
Tommy Wiseau is not a hero, but he’s someone the audience learns to not only sympathize with, but support. He does bad things, but he does them with a brazen sincerity that’s impossible to resist. Franco captures Wiseau’s unique blend of creepy and charming, and the film doesn’t make fun of him; it shows him as he is, broken and hopeful.
He’s someone a lot of us can relate to, even though we’re not much like him. The Disaster Artist is weird and funny and memorable, but its best feature is that it understands its protagonist on a fundamental level, and doesn’t attempt to cram in anything other than sincerity and humanity. I found myself smiling through the whole thing, and while I missed some of the moments from the book, this adaptation is strong enough on its own. Highly recommended for fans of movies, comedies, and The Room.
4. Good Time
A neon-soaked panic attack that lasts for just under two hours, Good Time is both a visual feast and a vehicle for Robert Pattinson to give a career-best performance. It’s violent, dirty, uncomfortable, and feels like the sort of fever-induced dream one might have after chugging NyQuil and watching Drive.
5. The Big Sick
Funny, sweet, and continuously insightful, The Big Sick is at once uplifting and sorrowful. Its poignant look at the clash between two cultures allows for some genuine, heartfelt moments, while the stand-up comedy subplot brings wry humor and thoughtfulness to what could’ve been a painfully contrived element of the script.
This film affected me more than I thought it would, and not by being overly sentimental or melodramatic; it was real, and that was enough.
6. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
Martin McDonaugh’s Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is a pitch-black comedy, affecting drama, and creeping, ominous character study all in one. It’s beautifully shot, powerfully acted, and lingers in the mind long after the credits have rolled.
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is a thoughtful, poignant look at grief, revenge, sacrifice, duty, and many other things. It’s both outlandish and grounded, showing us characters who at first feel like caricatures, but are revealed to be pained, multi-faceted human beings with their own wounds and wants.
7. Lady Bird
Lady Bird may not be the most original film ever made (it draws from works like Rushmore, Juno, Easy A, Edge of Seventeen, and any number of coming-of-age stories), but where Greta Gerwig’s debut truly succeeds is in its honesty.
It’s sad. It’s sweet. It’s funny, and sometimes even beautiful. What it may lack in originality, Lady Bird makes up for in honesty. Even if the viewer didn’t grow up in Sacramento or go to a private Catholic high school, he or she should be able to find something relatable here, be it ill-fated romance, the struggle to find friends, familial strife, or unrealized ambition. Lady Bird presents all of these things and more with a clear, thoughtful voice, one which feels consistently genuine, from the first frame to the last. It probably won’t be for everyone, but I enjoyed myself, and if you’re reading this, you probably will, too.
8. The Shape of Water
The Shape of Water finds Guillermo del Toro working with such confidence that I couldn’t help but be swept up in his grand vision.
The story is fairly straightforward, but it never dips into the melodrama or obvious cliches I anticipated from the trailer. While the story beats aren’t hard to predict, they’re executed with vigor and earnestness. del Toro considers this film his most personal, and his passion for the work is evident in every frame.
When a director is fully committed to an idea like this, I’m always intrigued, and The Shape of Water is no different. It doesn’t have to be a groundbreaking story or an innovative experience because what is here is told well, by a director and crew at the top of their game. If del Toro truly is taking a break from directing, he’s certainly left us with a strong entry to ponder in his absence.
9. It Comes at Night
With It Comes at Night, Trey Shults presents a world not unlike that found in the popular video game The Last of Us, or even Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, which is to say that the story is distinctly not about the actual plague, but the effect it has upon those who endure it. The plot of the film is better if one has not read much about it, so I’ll leave that mostly untouched, suffice to say that the nuance, symbolism, and ambiguity surprised me.
The film is a haunting, cerebral experience. It’s not scary in the same way one might expect, but it builds a sense of dread like few other films in recent memory (save for A24’s own The Witch, which shares many similarities with It Comes at Night). It’s gorgeously framed and at times shockingly brutal, but it’s never exploitative or unnecessary. It explores themes of xenophobia, sexual frustration, isolationism, loneliness, paranoia, and more. A quote that stuck with me was “You can’t trust anyone but family.” Joel Edgerton’s character, Paul says this to his son, Travis, and it’s meant to be a wise piece of advice. However, Paul’s words become much more chilling after one has seen the full story. These themes felt startlingly relevant in 2017, but their reach goes much farther than this, or any other year.
It Comes at Night is a powerfully directed film, one which seeks to unnerve and unsettle rather than spook or surprise. It leaves much to the imagination, but teases just enough to allow the viewer to piece together some truly haunting concepts. Further, I was unsettled most deeply by something very human, and that moment has stuck with me far more than any monster or ghost ever could.
10. The Killing of a Sacred Deer
Yorgos Lanthimos is a captivating filmmaker. My introduction to his work was The Lobster, and I’ve been working to see the rest of his filmography ever since. His films have an unsettling, almost ethereal quality, in that the actual filmmaking itself is pristine; the wide lenses and deliberate camera moves evoke the works of Stanley Kubrick, while the muted performances and pointed dialogue of his actors add a dark surrealism to the cold efficiency of the visuals.
The Killing of a Sacred Deer is all of this and more. It brings the casual surrealism of Lanthimos’s previous film and marries it with an unsettling, ever-creeping sense of foreboding. The score is a screeching cacophony of strings and synths, and feels very much like the piercing score of Kubrick’s The Shining. Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman (who play off each other well, as seen in Sofia Coppola’s The Beguiled, also from this year) are equally icy and electrifying as Steven and Anna, and Barry Keoghan (who appeared earlier this year, in Dunkirk) is absolutely unnerving as Martin.
Like The Lobster, I find myself unable to stop thinking about this film. It’s odd and uncomfortable and it grows progressively darker as it goes. I don’t even really know how to fully evaluate this film, because Yorgos Lanthimos does so many things exquisitely, while also making such oddball choices that I scratch my head even as I marvel at the precision of his framing or the intricacies of the score.
I hope I am never put into a situation like the one this film is based around. I do hope Yorgos Lanthimos keeps making movies, however, because his voice is singular and impossible to ignore.
Honorable Mention
It
Faithful in all the right ways, IT is one of the strongest Stephen King adaptations I’ve seen. Andy Muschietti layers on a heavily nostalgic atmosphere, reminiscent of works like Stand By Me, The Goonies, Gremlins, and other iconic 1980s films. The Losers are a fantastic ensemble, and while some of the group are more fleshed out than others, all are performed well, and build a sense of camaraderie throughout the film.
Gorgeous cinematography and fantastic art direction/production design help IT feel authentic, and Muschietti’s surehanded direction guides us from shock to shock with ease. This is a scary film, but it’s also a funny one, and a meaningful one. There’s real emotion here, and it helps to offset the horror brilliantly. Don’t worry, Pennywise will keep you on the edge of your seat — but so will the Losers and their real-world problems, which are potentially just as scary as the ravenous clown haunting the sewers.
Is IT perfect? No. The film moves along briskly, but the passage of time can be hard to follow. Some of the Losers aren’t as fleshed out, and can feel like a bit of an afterthought. Some of the sound design in the more frightening scenes can be a bit overbearing. But the relationships at the core of the story help the film succeed in spite of its flaws.
See IT for the romanticized memories you hold onto from your childhood. The fear of the dark and the space under your bed. The way the world was huge and small at the same time when you were young. Movies are an escape, and this one was the exciting, nostalgic adventure at the end of the summer that I didn’t realize I needed.
There you have it.
My top ten films of 2017. What were yours?
PS: I know I missed The Post, Call Me by Your Name, Phantom Thread, The Florida Project, and I, Tonya. I’ll make sure to see them as soon as possible!
