22: Doing my best film major impression
Letterboxd ratings and unsolicited opinions on the 2021 Oscar Best Picture Nominees (spoiler-free!)
This week, I’m offering up my hot (or lukewarm—you decide!) takes on the 2021 Academy Award Best Picture Nominations. My family and I always make a point to watch as many as possible each year before we engage in healthy Oscar ballot-based competition. The pandemic has helped us along in this area, with all our time spent at home amounting to full viewership of all eight nominated films (and then some). I have a lot of thoughts about the films the past year has offered us, and I’m offering those thoughts to you in turn. Feel free to share your thoughts with me if you have them. This is an especially interesting year, and I think the movies released in it spark equally interesting and important conversations. Anyway, I’ve organized my picks in descending order, starting off with my favorite film and ending with my least favorite. I’ve included TLDRs suggesting what to watch for at the end of each ~review~ for your convenience. Now entering Would-Be Film Major Mode™.
Minari (4.5/5)
I’ve already written about Minari in a past list of “Things We Don’t Hate,” but I’m so eager to expand upon my thoughts a bit more here. Like I’ve said, Minari is a deeply American story written and directed by Korean-American Isaac Lee Chung about Korean-American immigrants tilling their American dream out of the unwieldy Arkansas soil. But this time around, the Academy has acknowledged the fact that it’s an American film—that its actors speaking both English and Korean shouldn’t necessitate a label of “Foreign Language Film” given that the American experience, for many, is a multilingual one. Progress. Take notes, Hollywood Foreign Press.
When it came down to ranking—to weighing vastly these different films against one another—Minari is and always has been my frontrunner. It was no question. Out of all the films released in 2020, this one moved me. It felt full to me, like nothing was missing. Even in comparison to a less “mediated” film like Nomadland, which was crafted in a purposefully realistic context, watching Minari felt more intimate—like watching real life play out before my eyes. Shifting, complex, strained but loving intergenerational family dynamics. Quiet moments spent communing with the rural landscape. Genuine realizations of and negotiations with notions of difference. Strife and wonder and pain and joy. It may seem trite, but I think the metric of a quality movie making you both laugh and cry still stands: by the end of its 1 hour and 56-minute runtime, I had laughed outwardly countless times and also cried so hard and so long that I was sweating all over. Minari made me feel so many things so deeply.
I hope you take the time to support and bear witness to this important American story—a story that takes on deeper meaning in a year marked by such senseless violence against Asian-Americans. Minari serves as a humanizing and realistic representation of the Asian-American experience—of belonging.
Watch this for: Youn Yuh-jung’s stunningly authentic and layered performance that needs to net her Best Supporting Actress, Emile Mosseri’s sweepingly beautiful score, the gorgeously warm cinematography, and Alan Kim’s tiny little cowboy boots.
Sound of Metal (4.5/5)
Real ones will recall that I already waxed poetic about the ways in which Sound of Metal pushed me to think beyond my lived experience as a person with hearing privilege and attempt to live more purposefully in the process in TWHI #13: “Stillness & Sound of Metal.” I really encourage you to check out this past piece (I promise it’s not long!) if you’re interested in a more holistic take on the film.
I think the fact that I wrote a whole essay dedicated to the effect this film had on me says a lot about my opinion of it. The level of immersion crafted in Sound of Metal is immaculate, with its meticulous sound design allowing us to experience the earthshaking change that is hearing loss with heavy metal drummer and recovering addict Ruben (a raw performance by Riz Ahmed) in “real time.” The extensive use of closed captioning allows hearing people to better understand the daily reality faced by those who are deaf or hard of hearing. Deaf actors are featured in prominent roles, and the casting of Best Supporting Actor Nominee Paul Raci is notable in that he is a child of deaf parents and a certified ASL interpreter. Like Minari, Sound of Metal represents the underrepresented and realistically so, allowing us to share in an especially intimate understanding of what it means to come to terms with auditory and mental stillness. It sits at the near top for me because (again, my marker of success) it moved me. It made me step outside of myself and think differently, ultimately reflecting on my hearing privilege—and how I can live more meaningfully—more deeply than ever before.
Watch this for: Paul Raci’s tenderly real performance as Joe, one of the most nuanced representations of a codependent relationship I’ve ever seen, an understatedly perfect ending, and Riz Ahmed and Olivia Cooke’s bleached hair and eyebrows, respectively.
Judas and the Black Messiah (4/5)
Let me just start off by saying that you should watch Judas and the Black Messiah before you even come close to watching The Trial of the Chicago 7 (spoiler: the latter is unquestionably my least favorite Best Picture Nom). Both films intersect contextually, with their respective incidents being referenced by word-of-mouth in either storyline. But director Shaka King’s Judas has so much more depth, shedding light on the insidious history of state-sponsored violence against Black people in America by amplifying Black stories, voices, and creative direction. It feels much more timely and genuine than Aaron Sorkin’s Chicago 7—a film that grossly reduces the federal government’s inhumane treatment of Black Panther Party cofounder Bobby Seale down to mere background texture in order to highlight the experiences of white anti-Vietnam War protestors (but more on this later).
By focusing in on the legacy and fate of Fred Hampton, chairman of the Illinois Black Panther Party in the 1960s, and William O’Neal, the man who was fingered by the FBI to infiltrate the party and betray him, Judas exposes the American government for its manipulative and murderous anti-Black machinations that still continue to this day. Daniel Kaluuya will (and should!) win Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of Hampton, and fellow Best Supporting Actor Nominee (??? why, Academy?) Lakeith Stanfield does amazing work in his performance as O’Neal. The only reason I couldn’t rank this film higher is that I feel it didn’t fully cut to the root of O’Neal’s incredibly complex experience as “Judas”—like the part was slightly underwritten and leaned too heavily on real-life interview footage to flesh out his character. Regardless, this is one of the most impactful and important watches of the year. Don’t miss it—especially if you sat through Sorkin drivel. You deserve better!
Watch this for: Daniel Kaluuya’s winning performance as Fred Hampton, the tenderness and vulnerability Dominique Fishback brings to her role, and the accurate representations of Black Panther ideology and community outreach.
The Father (4/5)
Given that I was least excited about watching this movie, the fact that it—you guessed it—moved me to the extent that it did was a welcome surprise. The Father immerses the viewer in the disorienting and ever-shifting world of an elderly man dealing with progressive memory loss. We attempt to make sense of the world as Anthony Hopkins’s character does—all while the setting shifts slightly around us over time, characters take on different names or faces, time itself loops, and events present themselves to us out of chronological order until eventually every happening could be either fact or fiction. It’s an incredibly effective and affecting piece of art, one that asks us to treat aging humans with Alzheimer’s or dementia with compassion and patience, helping us to see through their eyes. I lost my grandmother to dementia, and I can say that Hopkins’s portrayal of progressive memory loss and eventual regression (and, most upsettingly, an instance of elder abuse) is terribly realistic. This film made me feel such sorrow and fear for aging people, and I think that is a testament to its power. A heartbreaking watch but a necessary one.
Watch this for: more evidence of Anthony Hopkins’s acting prowess (nice to see him in such a vulnerable role), potent “I used to be a play!” energy, masterful nonlinear storytelling and use of subtle contextual detail, and Olivia Colman, of course.
Nomadland (4/5)
Okay. I came into this year thinking this might be my #1, and it still surprises and saddens me that it’s coming in as low (I say “low”—it still is a 4/5, haha) as it is. I love Frances McDormand, I’m ever-entranced by the landscape of the American west, and the topics the film covers—female solitude, the unsustainability and inhumanity of our capitalist society, alternative living—are all ones that I couldn’t wait to see on the big screen. But this didn’t live up to my expectations in a number of ways. But I am incredibly excited about the directorial acclaim Chloé Zhao is receiving; I think it’s justified. A burgeoning auteur, she had her hands in so many aspects of the film’s production, from its script to its editing. Beyond that, she truly blurred the boundaries between life and art with Nomadland: most of her cast consisted of real people (not actors!) who didn’t even know McDormand was an actor—let alone a famous one. This all made for a beautiful, gritty film that nearly depicts real life. But on the flip side, I think this is what bothers me as well, eventually leading to its inconsistency.
McDormand’s character Fern works seasonally in an Amazon warehouse on subsistence wages, barely scraping by, but her experience is portrayed in such a strangely sanitized light. You see Fern chatting with coworkers at lunch, constantly waving to coworkers as she walks through the warehouse aisles on apparent “breaks”—things well-documented as luxuries actual Amazon employees don’t have. This toothless portrayal of Amazon stands out as especially wrong given that the entire point of the movie is to illustrate that our economic system breeds nothing but instability and hardship so much so that people are choosing to live harsh lives as nomads, interacting with American societal institutions as little as possible. In light of Amazon’s union-busting and despicable working conditions, it just seems like such an oversight when so much of the film is dedicated to depicting how difficult nomadic life is. Wouldn’t an accurate depiction of the exploitative gig economy lend credence to that? This and the surprisingly apolitical stance of this film (excluding the one explicitly political conversation about the subprime mortgage crisis that led to the 2008 economic crash, eventually costing Fern her entire home!) took me out of the supposed hyperrealism, making it less meaningful for me in the process.
Watch this for: another beautifully brusque Frances McDormand performance, breathtaking cinematography, meaningful encounters with real American nomads, and filmic choices that encourage one to slow down and think differently about space.
Mank (3.5/5)
Both of my parents fell asleep on me as we watched Mank, and I think that is a fair representation of the experience. I’m being a little catty here—I actually enjoyed David Fincher’s reimagining of Herman J. Mankiewicz writing the screenplay for Citizen Kane and invocating the ire of William Randolph Hearst and Hollywood at large in the process. I watched Citizen Kane when I was far too young, never even having a remote clue that Mankiewicz was subtly (or not-so subtly) lampooning Hearst through the guise of Kane, so this filled in some interesting historical blanks for me. I also found Mank to be very timely given its coverage of the smear campaign against socialist politician Upton Sinclair and active interference with the 1934 California gubernatorial election by the media and Hollywood bigwigs. There are so many current-day parallels in the intersections of Hollywood and politics under the Trump administration and White House-sanctioned misinformation of the American public. But the film is overlong and dialogue heavy. Even more frustrating, 63-year-old Gary Oldman is boldly cast as a 43-year-old Mank, but somehow 33-year-old Tuppence Middleton was chosen to play Mank’s 43-year-old wife and Amanda Seyfriend plays 44-year-old Marion Davies despite being 27 years younger than Oldman. Just blatant perpetuation of gross double-standards in the representation of age given gender in Hollywood. Why, David, why? Anyway, a solid watch for Fincher completionists.
Watch this for: Amanda Seyfried’s scene-stealing luminosity, black-and-white visuals and sound design that make you feel like you’re transported back in time to Old Hollywood, and Bill Nye the Science Guy’s feature as Upton Sinclair the Socialist Guy!
Promising Young Woman (3.5/5)
I’ve had some really interesting conversations about Promising Young Woman in light of the discourse and varied reactions it inspired in the online community. I had been super excited about this movie ever since I first saw the trailer way back when. I wasn’t let down when I watched it: I firmly believe Promising Young Woman urges its viewers to be uncomfortable and engage in necessary dialogues about consent and society’s destructive coddling of “promising young men” (see: rapists and abusers) through a unique aesthetic point of view and a story marked by jolting plot twists. That being said, I felt that some aspects of the plotline were off, and many others felt the same. I can’t go into too much while avoiding spoilers. I will just say that a major plot twist seems antithetical to the film’s entire message—that patriarchal power systems are broken and do not protect women—and the film’s billing as a cathartic revenge film is inaccurate in that a great deal of the content is… not that and has been triggering to victims of sexual assault. Ultimately, I think that Promising Young Woman did more good than harm—that writer/director Emerald Fennell really went for it but that the complexity of the issues depicted on top of aesthetic choices and billing as a black comedy confused the film’s messaging. It’s more than worth a watch, but I suggest that potential viewers do some research into the film’s content to ensure it is the right fit for them if they’ve endured sexual assault in any form.
Watch this for: Carey Mulligan’s paradoxically strong and vulnerable performance as a woman past the edge, the film’s subversively “bubblegum” aesthetic, and a plethora of well-used features by beloved comedic actors.
The Trial of the Chicago 7 (3/5)
I’m obviously not giving The Trial of the Chicago 7 a terrible score because it’s not a “bad” movie per se… but it definitely doesn’t deserve all the acclaim it’s receiving in comparison to the other films in its class. I do appreciate the role it serves in shedding light on yet another instance of the American government’s underhanded and inhumane efforts to suppress anti-war and pro-Black activism. I had never heard of the Chicago Seven, the happenings at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, or the unjust treatment of Bobby Seale (there’s a comment on the US education system’s teaching of history in there somewhere…). This film righted that, and I’m grateful because it offers so much fertile ground for continued reflection on police brutality and the suppression of the freedoms of speech and demonstration. But, inelegantly, this is what The Trial of the Chicago 7 boils down to for me: surprisingly corny woke white boys’ club.
Much of writer/director Aaron Sorkin’s dialogue is so self-important, heavy-handed, and overly-curated to be snappy that it makes the film seem campy in a way that detracts from the gravity of the story at hand and causes acting performances to seem unnatural. So much focus is allotted to the racist judge being racist and the huge cast of white men spinning their quippy anti-war wheels that the lack of focus afforded to Black Panther Party cofounder Bobby Seale stands out. I know it’s The Trial of the Chicago 7, but it was originally the Chicago 8 while Seale was unjustly included, and I find it problematic that Sorkin chose to literally minimize his experience. In actuality, Seale was bound and gagged every day in court from October 29 to November 5, 1969 after continuing to speak up for his constitutional right to the fair trial being denied to him. Sorkin chose to collapse Seale’s experience, suggesting that he was bound and gagged only once for a short period and that the horrific nature of his abuse immediately shamed the prosecution into moving for a separate trial for him. This playing with history in order to make more time for the lesser sufferings and heroics of white men just seems tone-deaf—especially this year. Sorkin also misrepresented activist David Dellinger on multiple fronts, suggesting he abandoned his staunch stance of pacifism and misattributing the heroic act at the end of the film (I won’t say what happens because spoilers!) to the impossibly white bread main character Tom Hayden because it better fit his narrative. All of that just doesn’t sit right with me. Neither does the fact that Sacha Baron Cohen nabbed a Best Supporting Actor nomination for his portrayal of Abbie Hoffman over Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s incredibly powerful (and physical!) performance as Bobby Seale. Anyway, I will stop belaboring the point. It was not my favorite.
I’m finishing up with other movies released this year that are worth seeing despite not making that coveted Best Picture cut. I loved a lot of these and I think you would too!
I’m Thinking of Ending Things (4.5/5)
Black Bear (4/5)
The Assistant (4/5)
Palm Springs (4/5)
Emma. (4/5)
First Cow (3.5/5)
Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (3.5/5)
Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (3/5)
Yes, God, Yes (3/5)
Meg Ruocco and her piece in last week’s newsletter, “Grocery store anxiety.” Beyond being an amazing friend, Meg is an amazing writer, and it was so gratifying to have her grace TWHI with her writerly presence. Meg was kind enough to step in for me while I moved. I’m beyond grateful for that and for her vulnerability in sharing her personal journey with all of us. If you haven’t read last week’s newsletter, fix that! You’ll be so glad you did. And rest assured, we will definitely feature Meg and her writing on TWHI again in the near future.
My new apartment! I’m going to write an update on this later, so I’m keeping it brief. Just know it’s a work in progress—but one that makes me really happy.
Lay’s Dill Pickle Flavored Potato Chips. Sources say that I might even be snacking on these in the morning because I’m that into them and I’m living alone so NO RULES, BABY!!!
Bicycling. If you know me at all, you’ll know that I have a strained history with bikes (a long story). My boyfriend is a Bike Guy, and after much coaxing, I finally agreed to pedal around Minneapolis with him over the weekend. He sweetly slowed his pace for me, and we biked around Lake Harriet and Bde Maka Ska, ate sandwiches from Clancey’s, traveled the Greenway, shopped for groceries at Marissa’s Supermarket on Eat Street, bought things we didn’t need at Cheapo Records (CDs for me, movies for him), and picked up beer from the liquor store. I had a really nice time and was able to keep up—all thanks to him. Maybe I’ll grow to like biking. As of now, I definitely don’t hate it :’)