Feb 1, 202122 min read

FOF Best of 2020

MOVIES ARE DEAD!!!

This echoes (sorta) the refrain of an oft sickly 19th century German philosopher regarding the nature of divinity. But even Nietzsche recognized the cultural considerations of that idea. In other words, he knew the circumstances of thought and ideas at the time (the cultural milieu) which led to the conclusion.

So we return to the situation of films in 2020 and maybe we scratch our heads a little bit. What would prompt one to claim such a thing about movies' demise? What do we do, after all, when some of the biggest theatre companies since the 1980's are closing up shop and boarding their windows? How do we judge domestic box office when there IS NO, um, box office? And, how do we forecast a future for cinema after dozens of major releases were shelved during a pandemic and a growing trend (people just want to stay home to watch movies!) was blown to the rafters in a period of quarantine? What's next for cinema in a world where new streamers (Shudder, Paramount Plus, you name it) are popping up like weeds on my lawn in the early Spring?

Well, I don't have answers for all of the questions above, though I'd love to discuss my perspective with any of you. But I will say, POSITIVELY speaking, that somehow we made it! Despite all the hardships, a plethora of solid films were birthed into the world in 2020. Moreover, this past year featured the widest display of diversity in front of and behind the camera in history. Female directors rose to the top of the heap. Foreign filmmakers got their fair share of the limelight. Diverse ensembles carried solid projects. And, what warms my heart - into the void left by a dearth of blockbusters, small independent films (many of whom were made for peanuts by first time directors) emerged triumphantly. You'll see many of those pictures highlighted here.

One thing is for sure...the film landscape is changing. Some good will come of it (even if many people chose to watch Bridgertonover Mank this year (sigh)). Notable things are still happening and the widespread availability of most of these films is only one reason for us to celebrate. Here are my picks for the Top 20 Films of 2020. Enjoy!

#20 Black Bear

A well-written, three-hander chamber piece about the creative process and just how difficult it can be to birth something ex nihilo. (Read: a film about the intersection of life and art).

One of the most fun, puzzle box pics I saw all year (I counted at least four possible interpretations of the events), and a TOTAL dynamo performance from the underrated Aubrey Plaza. She's worth the "price" of admission alone.

-Check out my full review of Black Bear here (but be warned, spoilers abound)

#19 First Cow

First Cow is a beautiful little diamond of a period piece. It is disarmingly simple, quaint, and beautiful. Painstakingly detailed and shot with care by Kelly Reichardt, this story brims with great costume and production design. Each outfit, cabin, campfire, and outdoor setting is meticulously chosen down to the finest detail. In large part because of this, we are whisked away to a time of Manifest Destiny, the 1820's Northwest, when the country is spreading westward and people are attempting to find a little place to call home. When hunters, craftsmen, and workers seek a modest means for living, a nest egg to get them through tough times.

It should not surprise us at all that Kelly Reichardt is the perfect director for this job. She has been quietly toiling at modest and bucolic stories of the Pacific Northwest for over a decade now. But what IS truly shocking this time around is the deep waters of friendship that First Cow swims in from cover to cover. Rarely will you see such a genuine connection between two men, even if it begins over a surreptitious scheme to steal milk for tasty treats from a prized cow. Reichardt finds a way through this simple tale to tackle major topics like colonialism, westward expansion, early capitalism, and countless others. The film opens on a terrific little mystery and closes with a final plaintive image, but it never loses sight of its own golden cow - the serene pathos of authentic friendsl review of this masterpiece coming soon. In the meantime, check out minutes 2:35:30 to 2:45:00 of this video for some more in-depth discussion of First Cow

#18 Vitalina Verela

The most high art pick on my list by miles (you've been warned), Vitalina is a story about a woman returning to the dark and dingy alleys of Lisbon in search of any last traces of her now deceased husband. Did you get that whole sentence ingested fully? Now, forget it! This is Costa, and plot means almost nothing.

In the place of story, there is painstaking cinematographic artistry here. This is the strongest distillation I have yet seen of the distinct notion of film as composition. Each sequence is like a separate Caravaggio painting. Vitalina tells a story of grief and loss, bitterness and torment almost exclusively through the use of light and dark, staging and framing. One of the best show don't tell pictures I've ever seen. Press play on it, if for nothing else, to witness the kind of visual beauty you'll find in very few places. Who knows, maybe you'll fall in love. Or...maybe you'll fall asleep. To each his own.

-Check out my full review of Vitalina Varela here

#17 The Climb

The Climb contains the single best opening scene in a picture all year. It sets the stage for the production in many ways - how the film will be shot (a single impressive long take for each new scene), the absurdist comedic characters at its heart, and the litany of events that will be catalogued in its runtime. At its heart, this film is a buddy comedy. It's often hilarious, even as it is so cringy at times that you'll want to crawl under your chair. The plot involves weddings, funerals, affairs, and everything in between.

But once again, like the just discussed First Cow, this film is really about friendship, albeit of a very unique kind. As my friend said so well in the video cited below, these guys are not moral characters. In fact, on an integrity scale, they are rather decrepit. Mike's modus operandi seems to be making the biggest ass of himself possible in all circumstances. Kyle, on the other hand, is our "straight man," (in the buddy duo sense) but he barely has his life together either. Indeed, the two seem to be trapped in the kind of delayed adult adolescence from which Judd Apatow made himself a household name in the '00's. What you're left with in the end is a comedy with real heart, belly laughs, and ridiculous shot style and gumption. My second favorite comedy of the year, The Climb is well worth a watch.

-Full review of this terrific comedy coming soon. In the meantime, check out minutes 0:54:05 to 0:59:00 of this video for some more in-depth discussion of The Climb

#16 Lovers Rock

One of the most unique viewing experiences of this or any other year. An under 70 minute "film," Lovers Rock is more of a reverie of a group of young West Indian's in London dancing soulfully at a house party.

But the plot is not super important here either. What exactly does Lovers Rock concern itself with then? It is bodies as art. Hips and elbows, swaying and motion as captured triumphantly through the handheld camera of Steve McQueen. It is about gathering strength to face the storm, new love, reggae music, and the kind of joy which feels kinda like riding down a city street on the handlebars of a new crush. It is absurd that the victorious Small Axe anthology by Steve McQueen is only eligible to be recognized for Emmy's. It will likely be overlooked by many on Amazon Prime. Don't you do the same. (Available on Amazon Prime)

-Check out my full review of Lovers Rock here

#15 Host

A found footage horror flick which manages to check so many boxes it is almost ridiculous. Somehow sidestepping the massive chasm that usually swallows these kinds of pictures whole - bloated runtime and poor characterization - Host clocks in at 56 MINUTES. It manages to give us 15 minutes connecting with the colorful characters (so we, you know, actually care when they die), around 20 or so of puzzling developments as evil enters the chat, and 20 more of total house on fire, neck hair on end hysteria.

Oh, and did I mention it's a seance that takes place entirely inside a Zoom meeting during quarantine?

Could there BE a more 2020 film than this??!

-Check out my full review of Host here

#14 Bacurau

Bacurau belongs to a class all its own. It is the most wholly original film that I watched in 2020. A total genre mashup, Bacurau begins like a folk tale of a small town in mourning for the loss of its matriarch, before shifting once into western territory and AGAIN into an ultra-violent showdown. The film hops around between moods and tones so much it can almost be disorienting. But, if you just sit back and begin to recognize what is "going on," it is about as FUN a ride as you'll encounter.

In this case, the "going on" is actual some pretty slick satirical social commentary. Its critiques are right on the nose. We have some townspeople who have been deprived of water, and a well-groomed mayor making empty political promises and granting meaningless small gifts. Then the film spins like a top and we meet a whole band of hired mercenaries out on the take. The performances are roundly convincing, from the alcoholic doctor to the dangerous social pariah in the hills, it's all delightfully hammy and vicious. I do not wish to spoil anymore, but if you love Tarantino and Western last stands, give this one a look. I dare you not to crack a smile.

-Full review of this wild genre-mash up coming soon. In the meantime, check out minutes 0:50:30 to 0:54:05 of this video for some more in-depth discussion of Bacurau

#13 Possessor

A bold, transgressive announcement to the larger world of a man whose vision in some ways mirrors his father's (body horror, anyone?) and in others diverges completely. Possessor is violent and entirely bleak, but it's buoyed by a terrific Christopher Abbott and Andrea Riseborough and pregnant with the kind of questions of technological overreach that made Cronenberg the elder such a legend in his own right.

A picture full of stunning visual style, a distinct color palette, and terrific use of practical effects in scenes of "possession." This film is about the loss of autonomy that humans are increasingly giving up to their technological devices. It's concerned with the question of what happens to an individual when they allow themselves to be subsumed by an outside influence. It poses the query: How soul-killing and humanity eroding can the enterprise of technological engagement become? The harrowing journey of exploring these themes with this distinct Cronenbergian vision is discomfiting but entirely worth the ride.

-Check out my full review of Possessor here (some spoilers ahead)

#12 Shithouse

Here is a sentence I never expected to utter: Shithouse is the most emotionally raw, gut-wrenchingly honest film I've seen all year. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of a nasty word for feces with a product I deem to be so sweepingly artistic that really hit me so hard. In any case, the assertion is entirely true.

S#!%house is a college coming of age drama like you've never seen before. It concerns the sometimes awkward, often cringe-inducing journey of the somewhat nerdy Freshman Alex as he seeks to cut the cord between his past (a mother and sister back home) and a future bright with possibility. The movie just downright shook me to my core in its portrayal of the other side of young adult life, the side where parties and frats are replaced by tearful calls home and fun flings give way to the tricky dance of new love. One part Garden State, a touch more Nick and Norah, and also entirely its own delightful mumblecore creation, Shithouse is an unlikely torchbearer for coming-of-age indie realism.

-Check out my full review of Shithouse here

#11 The Vast of Night

A modern sci fi triumph which takes on 50's style Cold War paranoia, lights in the sky, and of course The Twilight Zone, The Vast of Night was a delightful gem of a discovery for me this year. It is the work of a first time director, Andrew Patterson, who knows a little something about style. Indeed, the picture is LOADED with it - old tape recorders, 50's style garb, phone switchboards with the multi-wired interface, and square boob tubes - production design details which ground us in the time. But he deftly marries this to the most cutting edge, beginning the film on a 15 minute oner as the protagonists stroll through the small town. Again, he shoots another long take with a zooming drone to remarkable effect.

The style and pastiche is undeniable here. But the substance isn't altogether lacking. Though some may find this picture "talky," it nonetheless finds a mood and an air of suspense like terrific sci fi works of yesteryear. The story simply belongs to a time when fear dwelt in American hearts in various forms. When pressing questions were: Are those UFO's in the sky, or Soviet aircraft coming to wipe us out? Not all that much actually happens in Vast, but it's the trepidation of what COULD that keeps the tension palpable. In creating a debut on a shoestring budget so larded with big ideas, Patterson recalls a certain Stephen (and his Close Encounters), and that is a very fine thing indeed.

-Check out my full review of The Vast of Night here

#10 Palm Springs

Simply the most fun I had at the movies all year. Palm Springs is like one of my all-time favorite comedies, Groundhog Day, only it is unique in some respects too. Nyles is a void of a man, who having been stuck in the same day for what seems like an eternity, has explored death, sexual encounters, assorted weaponry, and the fleeting ecstasy of extravagant drugs. He has come out of all of this and realized one cold fact - None of it matters. Enter the other half of this comedy with romantic flares, the incomparable Cristin Milioti.

Here is where the uniqueness of the story kicks in. For this time around, the time loop is not relegated to only one man. So, we have Sarah, who is akin to Nyles in many ways. She shares his love for booze and sexual excess, and his conviction that love is an empty dance full of prescribed, hollow movements. While both are hysterical, two things weld them together inseparably - soul-crushing loneliness and the desire for human connection. This leads to a remarkable conclusion mirroring one of my all-time favorite pictures: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And in this completely absurdist comedy about living the same day over and over again (sound familiar?), we found an oasis in the months long desert of quarantine.

-Check out my full review of Palm Springs here

#9 Another Round

Another Round is the story of four middle-aged teachers at a private school in Denmark who have entered a kind of midlife malaise. While out in celebration of one of the members of their cadre's birthday, this unease and blandness for life rears its ugly head. One member proposes a surprising solution: What if we just drink a little bit and arrive at a low level of inebriation AT ALL TIMES? So they do, and we are off and running.

The direction of Thomas Vinterberg and lead chops of Mads Mikkelsen steal the show. We watch these men loosed from the shackles of their own securities begin to find some rhythm and life in their jobs and relationships. The story is often funny, but eventually drama comes to bear. We witness firsthand through the alcoholic consumption how UNCONTROLLABLE adult living can really be. This all leads to remarkable conclusions about friendship and camaraderie, legacy (read: the value of work) and human connection. And the cherry on top is the finest single ending of any picture this year.

-Check out my full review of Another Round here

#8 The Assistant/Never Rarely Sometimes Always

I include these two films together for a very specific reason - I find them to be birds of a feather. They are pictures about young females and the oppressive systems of power which sometimes come to bear in their lives. The former, The Assistant, is a work that begins extremely modestly. It presents us with the day-to-day drudgery of an assistant to an executive at an agency which hires talent for filmmaking. (The real-life parallels to Harvey Weinstein are both intentional and obvious, though unspoken). Soon, the assistant (played with remarkable composure and strength of conviction by Julia Garner) begins to see small signs of abuse and maltreatment towards other women. She is scolded and debased for minor mistakes by a disembodied voice (We never glimpse the actual executive's face, a terrific way to highlight his looming presence and villainy).

The question becomes whether or not this young woman will act. Having finally been moved to speak out, the film reaches its climax when she visits an HR worker to air her complaints. This is one of the ten best scenes of the year, and the fallout from that conversation and its aftermath is must-see viewing.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always, by contrast, is a picture about a young girl from rural Pennsylvania who travels with her cousin to New York City to get an abortion. It speaks to the neglect of her parental unit, the maltreatment she received from the boy she was dating, and the micro-aggressions the two face along their journey.

Eliza Hittman directs newcomers to give these remarkable lived-in performances of rural girls caught up in a storm. She shoots the film with lesser 16mm stock to enhance its realism, and utilizes long bits of silence to allow us to really FEEL these women's predicament. To my mind, Hittman's greatest achievement is never turning this into a preachy diatribe, or lobbing politically charged grenades, but instead grounding the story in true to life characters who are compassionately rendered. Whatever your feelings on this central hot-button issue, it is the humanity which shines brightest in this impressive creation.

-Check out my full review of The Assistant here

-Check out my full review of NRSA here

#7 Time

One of the greatest documentaries I have ever seen. A film so cinematic in scope and feel that it almost does not belong to its genre. This is a story about perseverance and faith, hope in the face of the abyss. It's a tale about one woman who won't stop fighting for her man, against all odds, whatever the costs. Time is an epic in the grand redemption tale tradition.

Practically speaking, Time is about a couple who were sentenced to time in prison for a robbery they committed desperately while young. Having gotten out after a few years (she served a lesser sentence as the getaway driver), Fox Rich now fights desperately to free her husband Rob whose 20 year sentence has shockingly grown to 60. So the film proceeds in telling its tale, using gorgeous black and white photography edited seamlessly with home footage of their six sons taken by Fox to memorialize the time her husband was locked away.

Time is remarkable in its aesthetic vision and in its balance. It never excuses away wrongdoing, but does point to the injustices of the court system for people of color. Despite these weighty themes, however, this is really simply the story of a family fighting for a second chance. And for a woman who tirelessly called justice clerks and lawyers for years on end (while being told to "wait" over and over), all while raising six young men without a father and growing a business of her own, this quest seems like a righteous one in need of fulfillment. Its conclusion does not disappoint.

-Check out my full review of Time here

#6 Sound of Metal

Sound of Metal is just one of those annoying flicks where some dude plays another guy with a disability in the most Oscar bait-y kind of way in order to garner maximal hardware, right? There is nothing new or original going on here is there? In a sense, maybe yes. But in reality, not even close. For starters, very few of these types of film exercises involve so much heart and pathos. Rarely do we see actors giving such naturalistic and, at times, understated performances. Then again, seldom is it that we get such a transfixing work on a modest budget from a first-time director. But Darius Marder pulled it off, and he made sure that all of this would be top-notch.

To begin, he casts a whole troop of non-professional actors who are actually deaf to populate the school where Ruben goes to learn how to live with his loss of hearing. To head them up, he grabs a character actor who's been around for many moons, Paul Raci, who knows ASL and has been around deaf family members his entire life. On another note, most of the talk around this picture will not only underscore the performances but also the sound design. This is absolutely rightly so. The techniques Marder employs generate the greatest empathy, for we hear the world as Ruben hears it. Several scenes really depict this exceptionally - the disorientation of soundless signing in a big group with no subtitles, crackling and tinny voices after a surgical operation, etc. Put together, we have awards-caliber lead and supporting actor performances and a compassionate, humanistic portrait of the lesser known individuals who make up an entire community.

-Check out my full review of Sound of Metal here

#5 I'm Thinking of Ending Things

One of my favorite happenings in a film is where I'm around 10 minutes in, and I get the distinct sense that the writer is just smarter than me. His writing is crowded with specificities pushing at universal truths. His lines seemingly tossed off and conversational, but pregnant with deeper meaning. Fortunately for me, I have this experience nearly every time I sit down to a new Charlie Kaufman film, and I'm Thinking of Ending Things is no exception.

Of course, this time around the film's conceit is exceedingly simple: A newly dating couple heads off to the country to "meet the boyfriend's family." What could be convoluted about that? Well, this is a piece of mood art, for one. The score is consistently dour, and the weather is just an unending blizzard of dim-lit gray and expansive white. Things get no better once they arrive at the dinner. Shot perspectives keep changing, the female lead's outfits do as well. Soon, time begins to shift on us as the parents age and grow younger from scene to scene. What's more, the dinner keeps intercutting with scenes of an old janitor mopping up a school while youth rehearse a rendition of the musical Oklahoma!

Suffice it to say that things are not all as they seem. Kaufman bends it all together into a layered work on his favorite nihilistic themes of loneliness, solitude, and the ubiquity of death. Maybe not a work for all, but one that left this guy who loves to puzzle over noodle-benders spellbound. "There is nothing like a Kaufman film," I often say to myself with glee. Watch it yourself, and let's piece it together in tandem.

-Check out my full review of I'm Thinking of Ending Things here (WARNING: Heavy spoilers in the second half of the review! Watch it first, and I'll gladly help you untangle the ball of yarn in your head afterward)

#4 Da 5 Bloods

No film brought the holy hammer of social and racial commentary to a farrago of genres, real-life footage, and key historical pictures from the past like Spike Lee's Da 5 Bloods. The bluntness with which the bespectacled director tackles his feelings on war, the Vietnam conflict, and race relations in America are probably both the greatest strength and weakness of this sprawling epic adventure.

On the one hand, this picture is about PTSD and the aftermath of conflict. Four black men return to Vietnam in search of the grave of their fallen leader (the wondrous Chadwick Boseman, may he rest in peace). But wait, there's more. There is also buried treasure! So Spike takes these four men down a Vietnamese river on a tug a la Apocalypse Now. In the course of their treasure hunting, we almost feel we're gonna see Bogey hop around the corner like in Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Yet the picture remains grounded in the present, as Spike chooses to bookend the fictional narrative with real life characters (Malcolm X, MLK) and harrowing photographs from the fighting.

I could say much more about this 150 minute experience. You almost have to see it to believe it. But I refuse to leave before I say just four words: JUSTICE FOR DELROY LINDO!!! Perhaps the greatest single acting performance of the year, Lindo was overlooked entirely (not to mention the whole picture almost as well) by the Academy. Lindo's portrayal of a broken man haunted by his past acts and trauma comes to a head in the third act, and it's just about the most riveting stuff I witnessed all year. (Available on Netflix)

-Check out my full review of Da 5 Bloods here

#3 Minari

Minari is a picture about many things. It is a portrait - intimate, heartfelt, and raw - of a single family. A group of South Korean immigrants trying to make it as farmers in Arkansas in the 1980's. Yes, Minari is about family and cultural assimilation. It is concerned with the “immigrant experience” and the closely tied chase for the American Dream. It surely has big ideas and major themes. But at its heart, it is remarkably tender, naturalistic, and modest. It rarely shouts, but often whispers. Director Lee Isaac Chung’s gaze remains right there amidst his characters, in their day-to-day toil to make a new way of life in a strange, foreign land.

This may be the best single ensemble of the year. Steven Yeun and Yuh-Jung Youn have rightly garnered attention for their work, but Alan Kim and Yeri Han are equally deserving of mention. See my full review to find this expanded at length. In any case, Chung marries these terrific performances to exceptional writing, brilliant cinematography and a moving score. He has an uncommon knack to write lived-in characters who he tenderly follows in the daily motion of their lives. Whether it’s the honest, heart-on-his-sleeve young boy, or the feisty grandmother, the driven father, the mature and grounded older sister, or the fretful and pragmatic mother. The director allows us to find resonance in the minutiae of real life. In so doing, Minari rarely knocks our socks off, opting instead to nestle itself softly into the core of our affections.

-Check out my full review of Minari here

#2 Mangrove

There were two notable courtroom dramas released this year. I suspect that many more saw Aaron Sorkin's Trial of the Chicago 7 than this masterwork from Steve McQueen's Small Axe series. Look, nothing against Sorkinites and the support that has grown up around that film. The performances are pretty terrific, and it does pop and sizzle like only Aaron knows how. Its entertainment value is soaringly high. But Mangrove...whoo-ee, this is another work entirely. It is a film on a holy mission, a crusade against systemic racism that never pulls its punches. These aren't jabs; they're haymakers. This is the portrayal of a kind of coiled rage, constructed at the intersection of righteous anger and human suffering born of generational subjugation.

Oh, and by the way, Mangrove has the performances and the plot TOO. It starts off as a story about a restaurant in London where West Indian people can come to eat cuisine they sorely miss from back home. Where they can catch up and be social, chewing the cud on everything from card-playing debts to the shared experiences of racism at the hands of the Metropolitan Police. A force which has so recently been invading their homes and places of business without warrants or cause. Soon the Mangrove becomes a place of organizing and collaboration. A protest march is formed, the police join the fray, and the Trial of the Mangrove 9 is born.

Ultimately, Mangrove is a powerful work of filmmaking to me because of what Steve McQueen brings to the table. He trains his camera on his actors for long, uncomfortable takes. He makes us FEEL with them the trials of this experience. And the work of Shaun Parkes, Malachi Kirby, and Letitia Wright is unimpeachable. The final sequence hung with me for days. Mangrove is a wonder to behold.

-Check out my full review of Mangrove here

#1 Nomadland

Though I've truncated my full reviews of the other 19 films into little bite-sized blurbs, I wanted to let my words on Nomadland, my best picture of 2020, stand in full. Here they are for your reading pleasure:

I was overwhelmed by two competing, if complementary, thoughts at the conclusion of Nomadland. The first was in regards to its director, Chloe Zhao. My rumination ran something like this: “I am in the hands of a master.” A generational editor, shot framer, scorer. A nascent titan of the medium. Most of all, a master craftsman. She is simply a wunderkind of the highest degree. The second notion rolling around my noodle was in regards to her work. I’d say it was a sit-through-the-credits-and-that-beautiful-piano-score-staring-blankly-ahead kind of watch. I told my friends after the film finally wrapped that I had six trillion thoughts, and not one of them was eloquent. Rare today is it that we get this kind of depth of inquiry, probing at deep themes through naturalistic performances that, like the topics presented, are all too human.

Where should I begin? Might as well make the bold claim: Nomadland is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. That is no understatement. Chloe Zhao’s whole appeal to me is this stunning visual poetry she creates. Alongside her remarkable cinematographer, Joshua James Richards, Zhao’s use of natural lighting, particularly in landscapes, is unreal. Moreover, having a score to match it is so moving. For two films running now, Zhao has wedded these jaw-dropping visuals to lived-in naturalistic performances, many of them from untrained/non-professional actors. Folks who, in other words, are playing a sort of dramatized version of themselves.

While I found The Rider to be a stunning achievement in its exploration of masculinity and identity against the backdrop of Western archetypes, Nomadland only raises the stakes. It is obvious this time around that Zhao has more resources at her disposal and a larger purse to dip into for this project. The result is a larger, more varied cast, bigger production, and grander themes. Still, she never loses her distinctive flare. This film trades the old West of cowboys and rodeo stars for a group of natural nomads, folks who have for one reason or another (economic niches shutting down, abandoned towns, loss of loved ones, etc.) embraced an itinerant life where home and vehicle are one and the same. “I’m not homeless,” Fern relates to us at one point. “I’m just houseless. Not the same thing, right?”

The cast of real nomads are the real stars of Nomadland for me. At first it would appear that they are the “window dressing” of the picture. After all, the plot centers around Frances McDormand’s Fern, a woman who has lost much. Things too painful to really face. And so she rides on from town to town. But, as it turns out, it’s really the people that she meets along the way that are the heartbeat of the whole affair. In this way, we are granted a supreme sort of travelogue, where untrained actors relate all these real tales as they weave in and out of Fern’s life along the road.

A few of these scenes are particularly notable. The most beautiful moments of the film, in my opinion, belong to an older woman named Swankie. She’s painfully aware of her mortality and the “road” which she is traversing. Yet rather than lament the fading light of days, she instead recalls the most exquisite experiences along the way. So, she relates a tale of kayaking on a lake in Colorado and seeing hundreds of swallows under, over, and all around her. “That was like, it's just so awesome,” she says. “I felt like I've done enough. My life was complete. If I died right then, at that moment, it would be perfectly fine.”

Or the moments with Bob Wells, a sort of spokesman for the nomads and an advocate for cheap RV living. Bob, as we find out, hides his own deep wounds. Yet rather than wallow, he cast his eyes outward and began to offer a lifeline to those sinking under the weight of economic struggles and worrisome, ceaseless toiling. All of Bob’s words are quote board material, but it is perhaps his lines near the finale which linger the longest: “One of the things I love most about this life is that there's no final goodbye. You know, I've met hundreds of people out here and I don't ever say a final goodbye. I always just say, "I'll see you down the road."

So, if it the real stars are Swankie and Linda and Bob Wells, then why all the love for Frances this Oscar season? Well, in Nomadland, McDormand accomplishes a rare feat. In fact, she excels not by standing OUT, but by blending IN. She is a revelation not because she stands in the center of the frame (though she does that exceptionally well throughout), but in her ability to get out of the way! Through her naturalistic performance, subtle portrayals of deep wells of emotion, pain, brokenness, and utter humanity, McDormand almost manages to convince us that she’s just like all these other untrained actors. WHAT an accomplishment for a woman who has two golden statues for her turns in Fargo and Three Billboards…. It’s simply a breathtaking achievement for a performer.

But, in the end, I must return to the top. The ultimate revelation of Nomadland isn’t Frances or trailers or the untrained actors or even the fantastic David Strathairn. It’s Chloe. The way she frames shots. Her meticulous care as a masterful editor, weaving all this together so that not a stitch is visible to our eye. Moreover, I continue to be blown away by this rare ability of hers – In most films, dialogue is like a running engine. It teaches the viewer about characters. It draws the viewer into individuals, plot arcs, and major themes. But in her films, it is almost as if dialogue INTERRUPTS the reverie. The most natural, ordinary moments become meditative portraits of humanity touching transcendence.

And so it is with this one of a kind picture. A film that doesn’t really arrive at a destination per se, but remains one I could get lost in reflection of for hours, searching for deep analysis of Fern’s inner psychology on themes of family and grief and loss. But mostly I come for the beauty. The landscapes and the vibrant humanity. It’s nice to make new friends, especially ones I’ll be glad to see on down the road.

Other Awards:

Other Horror Pictures Worth Your Time: His House, The Empty Man, La Llorona

Honorable Mentions:

Mank

Extraction

The Father

Let Him Go

David Byrne's American Utopia

The Last Dance