A Highly Subjective 2022 Top Ten List

or: If LCJ Can Do It, So Can I

Merry Christmas all — I hope the final throes of 2022 treat you well and you get the chance to relax and unwind a little. With the end of a year come retrospectives. If you’re a subscriber to this newsletter I’m sure you’ve been inundated with top ten lists, first from the Greatest Films of All Time Sight and Sound poll and then the countless lookbacks at the year from other publications (as well as Variety’s sad little attempt at a best of all time list, bless you Variety).

I’m not really the biggest fan of ranking films in this discrete fashion, I think having a definitive top 10 films (whether of all time or for a given year) is as silly as slavishly upholding the 180 degree rule — art exists in a state of flux, not of precise measurement. In my ideal world, star ratings would take the form of imaginary numbers and unsolvable equations. Trying to interject any sense of objectivity into criticism is, I believe, a meaningless task — as one 2022 film eloquently puts it, “Truth is not a theory that can be imprisoned within a book”.

Nevertheless, fuck it — they’re kinda fun. So presented below are my personal top 10 films of the year.

Please know, dear reader, that assembling this list was a torturous task that very nearly ruined my Christmas. Also, the list is presented in alphabetical order because there was no way in hell I could numerically rank the films without driving myself even more insane.

Aftersun

Charlotte Wells’ feature directorial debut, starring Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio absolutely floored me. Not only is it a beautiful, nostalgic recollection of a childhood holiday but it’s also formally inventive — packing an emotional gut punch that sneaks up on the viewer. It’s structure reminded me of David Foster Wallace’s encyclopaedic magnum opus Infinite Jest. In Jest, the novel’s plot is broken into a fractal structure full of time jumps and flashbacks. While the book builds to an emotional catharsis, there are very many narrative questions left unanswered.

This was intentional on the part of Wallace and throughout the book he seeds hints and suggestions as to how things ultimately shake out, when asked about this structure he described it as follows;

“there is an ending (...) certain kind of parallel lines are supposed to start converging in such a way that an “end” can be projected by the reader somewhere beyond the right frame.”

Similarly, Aftersun projects such an ending, leaving behind clues for assumptions the audience can make about the young child’s life and the fate of her father. It’s almost like a visual illusion where the image only unlocks after you unfocus your eyes or shut them tight. It is masterfully constructed and has established Wells as an essential voice in indie film.

After Yang

There’s a real sense of thoughtfulness in Koganada’s films, the shots feel deliberate, the costumes considered, the cuts eficent. After Yang is no exception. A glimpse at a possible future, the film centres around a small family dealing with the fallout of their AI robotic assistant unexpectedly breaking down.

But to limit After Yang to a plot summary would be an injustice. The film thrives on vibes. The future Kogonada projects is beautifully formed, part Her, part Kapital, and completely tactile. Alternating between stationary wide shots and straight-down-the-barrel close ups, Kogonada presents his world and characters through a wonderfully compassionate lens, creating a gorgeous lamentation on what it means to love and be alive.

And besides being deeply emotional, the film also incredibly fun — it’s exhilarating opening credit sequence is one of the standout scenes of the year and it features Colin Farrell doing a Werner Herzog impression — what more could you want?

The Banshees Of Inisherin

As an Irishman, nothing worries me more than hearing a piece of media described as  “quintessentially Irish”. Typically, this means the work being described is kitschy and derivative, likely featuring some lad imitating his mammy or an aul fella screaming “Jaysus!”. But Banshees isn’t Mrs. Brown’s Boys, it’s not Rory’s Stories — and despite featuring Pat Shortt, it’s certainly no Killinaskully.

Yet the best word I can find to describe it is Irish. The film captures so many aspects of Hibernian society (the begrudgery, the politeness, the turning a blind eye to other people’s problematic private lives, the relationship to alcohol, the scars of the Civil War, etcetera, etcetera) that, while watching it with a captivated Dublin crowd, I worried it’s cultural specificity would fail to translate to international audiences. Thankfully, that has proven not to be the case and Banshees has proven popular with audiences and critics worldwide.

The film’s story is deceptively simple, two long-time friends break up when one suddenly begins to give the other the cold shoulder — it’s the kind of premise you expect will run out of steam over the course of a nearly two hour long film but Martin McDonagh artfully explores the ramifications of their falling out in his best screenplay yet. Indeed, it’s with this film that McDonagh proves himself as more than just a provocateur but also a deft observer and storyteller.

Benediction

A recurring theme I’m sure will emerge in this newsletter is my love for inventive editing. It’s what cemented Aftersun’s spot on this list and here again it earns Benediction an entry. If you’re not aware, Benediction follows the life and times of poet Siegfried Sassoon including his objection to fighting in World War One, his many affairs with men, his eventual marriage, and his late in life conversion to Catholicism.

But unlike duller cradle-to-coffin biopics, Benediction is neither exhaustive nor exhausting. The story is at once economical and lyrical and the film cuts through time as if with a machete, skilfully eliminating the excess and leaving only the essential. Often repurposing archival footage and reciting excerpts of Sassoon’s poetry, the film feels as much a collage as a narrative and the result is enchanting, kaleidoscopic and ultimately heartbreaking.

The Fabelmans

Ah, Stevie. Fifty plus years in the business and he’s still challenging and reinventing himself. Fabelmans is his most personal film yet — the sorta autobiographical exploration we’ve come to expect from indie darlings like Mike Mills, not big league studio players like Steven Spielberg.

Filled with excellent performances and made with expert craftsmanship, the film is a minor key wonder. Somehow, Spielberg manages to make the story of his childhood feel as expansive and bold as his supernatural epics. Landing somewhere between Little Miss Sunshine and Steve Jobs, Spielberg’s autobiographical reminiscence feels far from indulgent but is instead a valuable insight into the enigmatic director’s personal life.

I remember reading Colin Trevorrow describe directing The Book Of Henry as him “going acoustic” after his experience working on the CGI blockbuster that was Jurassic World. I rolled my eyes then but Fabelmans, maybe more so than any other film, feels like a director “going acoustic” or at least stripping things back a fair bit. Sorta like Johnny Cash’s late career resurgence in the ‘90’s, with Fabelmans, Spielberg went back to basics and delivered something truly exceptional.

Kimi

I’m a huge Steven Soderbergh fan (look forward to hearing more about that in 2023) and his latest release is just more proof of his status as an ace stylist. An accomplished concoction of a number of cinematic influences from Rear Window to The Conversation to Run Lola Run (along with a dose of his own work in the form of Unsane), Kimi is a taut thriller about an agoraphobic tech worker accidentally overhearing a murder when reviewing recordings from a smart speaker.

This revelation leads her down a web of conspiracy, coverup, and concern. Soderbergh’s deft camerawork is key in giving the audience a window into Kimi’s mind as her world turns upside down and no one can be trusted.

Neptune Frost

Co-directed by American poet and musician Saul Williams and Rwandan actress and director Anisia Uzeyman, Neptune Frost is a film that defies convention. Whether it be in terms of genre or gender, the film is uninterested in conforming to labels or expectations. It is poetic, expressive, instinctual and rebellious.

Explaining the film feels like explaining a Rothko painting for while I can set out the general shapes and colours (set in Afro-futurist Burundi, the film follows the formation of a socialist hacker collective who seek to overthrow the oppressive regime mining their homeland for resources), I cannot begin to attempt to describe the delicate brushwork (the film is also a musical, an exploration of queer identity, a social commentary, etcetera).

In the short space I’ve allocated myself to discuss the film, the best I can do is describe my reaction to it, which was equal parts befuddlement, awe, joy, surprise, and admiration.

Nope

I saw Nope projected on the BFI IMAX screen in London and boy, was it a sight to behold. A beautiful feat of spectacle, Jordan Peele’s latest horror film is just as expertedly constructed as his first two.

Often when discussing Peele’s transition from comedian to horror auteur, much is made of the two genres’ shared emphasis on timing and while I agree that is an important similarity both genres share, I think Peele benefits most from his training as an improviser. See, with each of his three films Peele has proven himself a master of escalation. Just as an improviser does, he explores the scenario laid out before him and finds interesting ways of racketing up the stakes and latching onto the bizarre.

With Nope, just as with his previous features, the opening concept (or in improv parlance, the initiation) is quite simple — a mysterious cloud is hovering menacingly over a California ranch. But Peele takes this straightforward beginning and builds onto it a bizarre and deeply compelling satire lampooning Hollywood and celebrity culture, effortlessly segueing from characters discussing old school SNL lineups to terrifying images of people literally being chewed up and spit back out.

Vortex

Now admittedly, I love a formal gimmick. Here, the stylistic conceit is a maturation of Gaspar Noe’s previous experimentation with split screen in Lux Æterna. Whereas Lux was a vulgar, in your face execution of the split screen format, Vortex is a much more delicate, even treacly, affair .The film follows an elderly Parisian couple as their bodies and minds begin to fail them, they struggle to go about their day-to-day routines and forget more and more. Their story is presented concurrently in split screen with one side following the husband and the other the wife.

Famed giallo director Dario Agento stars in his proper acting debut and his portrayal of a frail but headstrong older gentleman attempting to remain in control in the face of his wife’s declining mental faculties is agonisingly tragic.

White Noise

This is a late entry – I only managed to see Baumbach’s latest in between drafts of this article but the cataclysmic tale of consumer culture anxieties forced its way onto my already overstuffed list. Let me be clear, this film isn’t a crowd pleaser. I’m sure it will go down as one of the director’s most divisive pictures but as a long-time admirer of Baumbach, it was exhilarating to watch him take on something with such grand scale and overt genre influences.

An adaptation of Don DeLillo’s watermark (or should that be landmark?, watershed?) postmodernist novel, the film feels at times like Woody Allen was brought in to do a last minute rewrite on Close Encounters Of A Third Kind. It’s a delightful clashing of aesthetics that delivers commentary on the increasing distrust of institutions in contemporary society and the quest for meaning in our increasingly abstracted, commodified existence.

It's far from perfect but I feel the need to commend a big swing when I see one. Baumbach will likely never work with a budget of this size again but he no doubt made use of every penny afforded to him and made a picture he can be proud of, warts and all.

Runner-ups

That’s right, I simply could not bring myself to sign off this newsletter without first acknowledging some the other great films I enjoyed this year and which I seriously considered when compiling this list. They include the likes of Funny Pages, The Novelist’s Film, We’re All Going To The World’s Fair, Fire of Love, Decision to Leave, Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris (seriously), and Good Luck to You, Leo Grande.

As always, thank you so much for reading and subscribing, see you all in the new year.

Gavin