Well, that was rough. 2020 was a terrible year in so, so many ways that I don’t feel compelled to rehash here. As any regular Popwell readers will have noticed, my publishing output dropped off to zero the past few months. The on-going health problems and death of my father in late November made writing pithy online nonsense seem less than vital. But going through his papers and finding printed-out copies of my pithy nonsense has inspired me to return to the keyboard and at least knock out my annual list of the best flicks I saw this year.
So. 2020. The lockdown kicked my movie consumption into overdrive, and my trusty list tells me that I saw an astounding 175 flicks this calendar year. That’s a lot of movies! And most of them were not that great!
As usual, this list compiles the films I enjoyed most this year, regardless of what year they were actually released, the better to reflect the streaming-dominant viewing model that most people, including me, are following these days. Also per usual, my favorites this year are a fairly eclectic grab bag, ranging from experimental Soviet documentary to lavish Bollywood spectacle. So, with no further ado, here are my favorites of a tumultuous year, in alphabetical order.
Address Unknown (1944) – One of the few noir flicks I’ve ever seen that doesn’t really deal with crime or criminals, per se, Address Unknown instead focuses its bleak lens on the rise of Nazism in Europe. It tells the story of a pair of German ex-pats who run a bookstore in San Francisco during the 30s. One of them, Martin, returns to Germany to buy books, while the other, Max, stays in the States to run the store. But once Martin and his family move back, the are confronted with the simple fact that Nazis are taking over society. Martin quickly adapts, joins the party, and rises in the ranks as a Nazi official. Meanwhile, his Jewish friend Max continues to write him and conduct business from the States, unaware of the trouble he’s causing for his newly-Nazified friend. Things get deadly serious when Max’s daughter, who had travelled to Germany to pursue an acting career, dares to utter several banned lines of dialogue during a play, including such scandalous notions as “Blessed are the peacemakers…” This is a powerful film that manages to work as both a thriller and as a pointed warning about the dangers of fascism. It’s got a fantastic twist ending that I won’t give away here, but that works perfectly to give the audience some ray of hope at the end of a rather downbeat flick. Luckily, we don’t have Nazi assholes to worry about anymore! Oh, wait…
The Breaking Point (1950) – Another shattering, bleak film noir. Was there something in the air this year that made these seem so appropriate? Anyway, this is the second Hollywood attempt to film Hemingway’s novel To Have and Have Not, whose entire storyline was changed to become a Bogart-Bacall romance the first time. This time, they stayed closer to the orignal story. The film focuses on a struggling fishing boat captain played by classic Hollywood everyman John Garfield. In order to keep his sport fishing business afloat, he enters into a shady partnership with a dodgy lawyer, who sets him up to help smuggle Chinese immigrants into the harbor. One dubious decision after another leads to Garfield being blackmailed into aiding a bunch of crooks in their getaway from a racetrack heist. This is one of those noirs where you can see the protagonist’s every decision leading to their inevitable downfall, yet you understand why every one of those decisions was made. Garfield’s character is trapped in a bind of his own making, and every fresh tragedy that befalls him and his loved ones seems truly tragic but somehow unavoidable. No happy endings here, people.
Buck & the Preacher (1972) – Now here’s a true rarity, a blaxploitation western. The first film directed by Sidney Poitier, it tells a rambling story about a pair of Old West heroes who are markedly different than any you’ll see in most oaters. Poitier also stars as Buck, a former soldier who now works escorting black wagon trains through Native American territory on their way west. Of course,the black families along the route are also vulnerable to the racist depredations of the local redneck community. When some local plantation owners hire a group of cowboy thugs to drive the blacks away, Buck is forced to flee his home. While on the run, he meets up with Preacher, a conman masquerading as a man of God, played to the scenery-chewing hilt by Harry Belafonte in a true change of pace for the normally ultra-smooth leading man. Together with Buck’s wife Ruth (Ruby Dee), the pair concoct a plan to help the wagon train make it to its destination, come hell or high water. Buck & the Preacher is a surprisingly light-footed film that successfully merges two genres that you would think would be like oil and water. Never too heavy-handed or preachy, it makes some serious points while never losing sight of the fact that audiences want to see Poitier and Belafonte get over on their tormentors.
Cleopatra Jones (1973) – I’ve seen a lot of blaxploitation flicks, from Black Ceasar to Foxy Brown. Little did I suspect that I’d somehow missed the very best one! Cleopatra Jones is a really fun flick, and one of the very, very few in which the female lead is never depicted as a victim or somehow abused, kidnapped, or drugged on her way to redemption. Nor is she paraded around topless like Pam Grier somehow always was, even in her most “positive” films. No, Tamara Dobson’s Cleopatra is a certified badass, some kind of a “special agent” for the U.S. government who works as a fashion model by day and operative by night. Or something like that. Anyway, the flick opens as Cleo oversees the destruction of a Turkish poppy field, which puts her at odds with heroin boss Mommy (played in gloriously over-the-top fashion by Shelley Winters). Mommy decides to get her revenge by having the corrupt cops she owns raid the L.A. community center run by Cleo’s lover (Bernie Casey). Bad mistake. This only leads to Cleo jetting into town and single-handedly taking down both Mommy’s heroin operation and the crooked cops who work for her. She kicks ass, takes a few names, and ends up beating down Mommy in a car-crushing finale before walking off into the sunset. Dobson shines in the title role, effortlessly exuding a confident sex appeal whether she’s karate-kicking some drug dealer or racing motocross cycles in a diaphanous blouse. Winters all but steals the show, though, with her utterly wild performance as Mommy, ranting about Cleopatra while fondling her female “assistants” lasciviously. Sure, it’s silly, but it’s plenty of fun, and there are times when that’s plenty. Like all of last year.
Danger: Diabolik (1968) – This colorful trifle landed on my list due to the way it leans into its bizarre 1960’s comic book camp aesthetic. Co-writer/director Mario Bava based his hipster action flick on the Italian comic series Diabolik, and he embraces the garish, graphic-novel style design elements. Much of the film was shot on sets borrowed from the production of Barbarella, which lends a strange futuristic vibe to the proceedings. The score, like that of seemingly every Italian film released in the 60’s, is by the great Ennio Morricone, and it’s full of trippy effects and jangly guitars that are a perfect match for the off-beat proceedings. The story follows the exploits of the titular anti-hero, a masked, costumed bandit played by John Phillip Law who specializes in high-end jewelry heists, conducted at the behest of his lover Eva Kant (Marisa Mell). They get themselves into one ridiculous scrape after another in their pursuit of diamonds and sexy thrills, always staying one step ahead of the hapless authorities. It’s like a super-charged 60’s James Bond adventure, except on the wrong side of the law and tailored for psychedelics, or as if the 60’s TV version of Batman had featured more sexy, half-naked Italians. Nothing too deep here, folks, just a couple hours of over-the-top camp nonsense that’s guaranteed to take your mind off of pandemics or fascists or whatever else ails you.
Gangs of Wasseypur, Parts 1 & 2 (2012) – This epic story follows the decades-long rivalry between a trio of Indian crime families, centering on the so-called “Coal Mafia” of the country’s Dhanbad region. Together, the two parts easily rank among the greatest crime films ever made, rubbing shoulders with The Godfather, Goodfellas, and Once Upon a Time in America. This probably sounds like hyperbole, but it’s not. This is an incredible work that revolves around questions of honor and family in ways that will be very familiar to fans of those films. The central characters are caught in a seemingly endless cycle of violence and retribution that swallows up everything and everyone around them, but each one of them is too proud to step back and deescalate. Originally constructed and screened at Cannes as one five-hour-plus film, director Anurag Kashyap split it into two parts when Indian distributors and sane film fans balked at the running time. The story spans the years 1941 to 2009, as successive generations of criminals, politicians, and businessmen take turns running the criminal underworld. The film is less concerned with the mechanics of their criminality as with the idea of how cycles of vengeance perpetuate themselves, so I was occasionally at sea with how exactly people were earning their dirty money. But the heart of the film lies in its generations of characters, all of them trapped in their roles by familial duty and circumstance. It’s hard to single out particular performances in such a strong ensemble piece, but I have to mention the incredible work of two actors. Majoj Bajpayee shines in the central role of Sardar Khan in Part 1, making the local warlord into a truly three-dimensional character whose violent motivations we understand even as we recoil at their results. The most powerful performance, though, belongs to Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Faizal Khan, the unexpected heir to Sardar’s throne in Part 2. Faizal is the Michael Corleone of the piece, the wayward son drawn reluctantly into his family’s brutal business, only to become the most ruthless of them all. Siddiqui is brilliant in the role, exuding a real sadness at what he’s become, even as he coldly dispatches his enemies. Gangs of Wasseypur is an amazing cinematic achievement that should be seen by anyone with even a passing interest in the gangster genre.
Josie and the Pussycats (2001) – I literally only watched this because I was visiting my father, who didn’t have wi-fi. With no streaming options, I was left to pick through HBO’s typically meager offerings until I landed on Josie and the Pussycats. With zero expectations, other than that I’d probably turn it off after about ten minutes, I decided to give it a shot. So, with my overly defensive explanation of why a 50-year-old man was watching this out of the way, I can tell you that it’s actually surprisingly good! The plot revolves around nefarious record exec (is there any other kind?) Alan Cummings, and his plans to insert subliminal messages in pop music in order to influence teens. The story’s pretty silly, but the film quickly becomes a pointed satire that critiques consumer culture, product placement, and mass consumption by embracing those concepts to excess. Directors Deborah Kaplan and Henry Elfont lean into the crass commercialization, putting their over-the-top product placement so front and center that it can’t be ignored. Literally every surface of the film is branded, from Target logos cluttering up private planes to Revlon-themed luxury hotel rooms. It’s akin to the approach used by Neveldine and Taylor in another overlooked gem from the decade, Gamer – a kind of “have your cake and eat it, too” approach that criticizes genre tropes while simultaneously pushing them to extremes. Josie ends with an affecting finale that makes a strong case for individualism in the face of overwhelming peer and societal pressure. Plus, it’s got Parker Posey as the head of MegaRecords, and she’s always great. Believe it or not, Josie and the Pussycats is one of the most enjoyable flicks I saw this year.
Man with a Movie Camera (1929) – Dziga Vertov’s experimental silent homage to the citizens and machinery of the Soviet Union knocked me out when I caught it on one of TCM’s Silent Sunday presentations. Shot on location in various Soviet cities, including Moscow, Kyiv, and Odessa, by Vertov himself, and edited by his wife Yelizaveta Svilova, it’s one of the strangest documentaries you’ll ever see. It kind of follows a day in the life of the fledgling Soviet Republics, tracking workers and citizens as they get up, go to work, interact with one another, etc. But Vertov seems more interested in exploring the various ways he can shoot scenes than anything else. He sets his camera up in crazy spots between trains or on top of moving cars, capturing the bustle of Russian city life through a combination of envelope-pushing camera stunts, rapid-fire editing, and collage. Vertov uses everything from multiple exposures and jump cuts to slow motion and tracking shots, creating and inventing techniques on the fly that would become a part of the worldwide cinematic vocabulary. He foregrounds himself in the action, showing you exactly how hard he’s worked to capture these images. Man with a Movie Camera is one of the most unique, engrossing “documentaries” you’ll ever see.
The Old Guard (2020) – While Netflix’ other big-budget action original, Extraction, seemed to suck up all the oxygen this year with its sweaty Chris Hemsworth and flashy 10-minute “one shot” action sequence, The Old Guard was actually a much better film. Charlize Theron solidifies her status as the reigning queen of action flicks playing “Andy,” the leader of a group of immortal, centuries-old warriors who use their powers to help people in need. OK, so it’s kind of an “A Team” bite, with the added twist of super powers. The Old Guard works, though, because it takes its comic book premise and treats it with some seriousness. It turns out Andy is haunted by the memory of her former partner Quynh, who she was forced to leave behind to suffer a twisted, eternal torture. Theron’s world-weary performance anchors the whole enterprise; her eyes tell the story of centuries of torment and anguish. Director Gina Prince-Bythewood also delivers some stunning action sequences, extravagantly choreographed set pieces in which Theron once again proves herself willing and able to throw herself into the wildest fight scenes. The film is clearly intended as the first in a series of Old Guard adventures, ending with a cliffhanger that all but assures it, given Netflix’ seemingly bottomless production budget. Consider me on board.
Padmaavat (2018) – For sheer visual extravagance, nothing can top this lavish, impossibly gorgeous retelling of the ancient poem Padmavat. A Hindi-language feast for the senses, it tells a fairly familiar story of an evil 13th-century king who yearns for an unobtainable beauty – Padmavati (Deepika Padukone), the queen of a rival kingdom. His relentless pursuit of her, from attacking her capitol city to kidnapping her husband, makes up most of the film’s lengthy running time. It’s not necessarily the story that keeps you watching, though. Literally every shot of this film is a beautifully composed image; every surface is covered in ornate carvings and decoration, every scrap of fabric layered over the actors filled with intricate embroidery. This might just be the best looking film I’ve ever seen. Ranveer Singh turns in a fantastic, scenery-chewing performance as Alauddin Khalji, the deranged king who’s pursuing Padmavati. Singh’s clearly having a great time, growling and strutting his way through every scene. And then, when you least expect it, he and his evil minions break out into a mesmerizing and insane song and dance about how in love he is! I was also surprised by the frank way the film dealt with Alauddin’s right-hand man’s (unrequited?) love for him. He even sings a song to Alauddin as he takes a bath, telling him how much he yearns for him! It’s all way more open and up-front than I would expect from an Indian film, but maybe India’s less homophobic than I’m giving it credit for. That said, I didn’t love everything about the film: it’s pretty one-sided in its depiction of the Muslim Alauddin and his followers as conniving, morality-free villains, and the Hindus he attacks as paragons of virtue, which resulted in quite a bit of controversy in India upon the film’s release. And for a film named after her, Padvamati is surprisingly absent for much of the actual action. Finally, I had some real problems with the film’s climax, which devolves into typical macho mano-a-mano bluster and forces Padvamati into a decision that the film treats as heroic, but which I found rather unsatisfying for a number of reasons. Then again, the story this is based on is several centuries old, and I guess they didn’t want to change the ending. Overall, though, the sheer eye-popping spectacle of the whole thing overwhelmed me and makes it easy to recommend.
Those are ten pretty solid flicks. And again, for those curious enough, the entire list of 175 flicks I saw last year is available right here.
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