Jenna's Top Ten Movies of 2020

On January 1st, about an hour into 2020, I threw up. It’s not entirely as it sounds… but yes, it involves Veronica and a speciality cocktail. (Believe me when I say that was literally the only thing I had that night! Unfair!) At the time I told myself “this isn’t a bad omen, this is a good thing! You’re purging yourself of the bad and starting the new year off on a clean slate!” Well, needless to say, a couple weeks later my full-time job dissolved and then, well, the rest of the world crumbled significantly afterward. One good thing that happened last year was I got a long rambling piece about The Saragossa Manuscript published in Bright Wall/Dark Room, check it out. But otherwise 2020 sucked hard. That said, in the face of the 441,000 or so deaths by COVID in the United States alone, I certainly have nothing to complain about.

I am happy to report that the last film I saw in theaters was an Alamo Drafthouse’s ‘rowdy screening’ of Cats. Maybe ‘happy’ isn’t the right word but the whole thing feels pretty fitting. This past year was certainly a reckoning for the topic of movie theater relevance and, while my opinion’s never wavered, I certainly have doubled down on my appreciation for the theater experience. Going to movie theaters is easily on my top three list of things I miss from a pre-COVID world, right alongside restaurant dining and, I guess, social interaction. Big fan of the masks though, I have (so far) never been healthier, seasonal illness-wise.

New release-wise, I tried my best to keep up this past year but I also refused to set foot in a theater to do so. No thank you to Tenet, which I’m sure I’ll see eventually but haven’t been at all interested in seeking out. I did catch Wonder Woman 1984 out of pure contrarian intrigue and found it to be about as blandly good as most super hero movies I’ve seen. Perhaps a solid hour overlong, but I genuinely enjoyed the zaniness of the plot. I sought out Pixar’s Soul despite having felt mostly disappointed by their offerings in a post-Ratatouille decade – loved John Batiste’s musical and creative contributions, but I felt burned by the movie’s ugly art direction and maudlin push for belief in a just afterlife. The Trial of the Chicago 7 should have been my jam but Sorkin messed it up with a teary-eyed flag and cliche waving ending. I’m Thinking of Ending Things reminded me yet again just how much I dislike Charlie Kaufman. And don’t even talk to me about Mank. No, really. Stop.

Perhaps my most controversial 2020 opinion is feeling entirely lackluster on First Cow, an indie darling that I found just impossibly dark – I’m talking like, physically too dark to see for half the film. Another good argument for movie theaters over home viewing, at least you know when it’s the filmmakers choice versus your crappy television. I’d be willing to give it another go but for now it’s off the list.

I otherwise found this year in cinema to be rather interesting, full of introspective topics and the sort of smaller, almost inconsequential stories I’m typically drawn to. This also seems to be the year the biopic got interesting again, who the hell saw that coming? Let’s get on with it:

1) Feels Good Man (2020, Dir. Arthur Jones)

Go ahead, tell me a documentary shouldn’t be in the same list as narrative films. I don’t care. All bets are off. It’s 2020. I actually didn't realize this documentary on the co-opting of Pepe the frog was my favorite of the year until I sat down to write this list. But after the year we had, culminating in a January coup attempt, I have a hard time justifying anything else as being more important. Feels Good Man does a great job of not only tracing the journey of artist Matt Furie’s innocent Pepe character from early 2000s indie comic to meme to 4Chan mascot to officially recognized hate symbol, but it’s an excellent summation on just how impactful all of this seemingly nonsensical stuff really is. What starts out as a documentary about an artist trying to re-bottle a monster he unwittingly created, quickly turns into a study on how the internet has embolden fascism throughout the world. Jones does a great job of explaining the evolution of the alt right step-by-step and meme-by-meme. Using ironic humor and bullying to rally those who feel persecuted by society and circumstance is nothing new, and the fact that we’ve all been naive enough to let things get to this point is as shameful on mainstream society as it is on them.

Watching this same process play out in parallel on laid-back Californian Furie, you certainly feel for the guy. I’m still mad I can’t quote the original Boys Club “feels good man” anymore myself. It’s genuinely sad to see him go through waves of feeling guilty or despondent towards what his creation has become. But you also want to shake him – sue these assholes already! Take control! By the time he does lawyer up it’s far too late, but the deposition videos between him and Alex Jones are solid gold at least.

2) One Night in Miami… (2020, dir. Regina King)

On paper, this is the sort of movie I tend to dread, a fictionalized what-if dream meet of four imposing historic figures at an important crossroads in their lives. Throw in the fact that it’s based on a one-room play and automatically I have to stifle a yawn just thinking about it. Yet, under Regina King’s watch, One Night in Miami… manages to not only impressively skirt cinematic cliches but it also genuinely captures the sort of magic that a social call between such cultural powerhouses could have held.

Four things really impressed me here. First is the cinematography and the direction, both of which are so dynamic you almost forget we barely leave the hotel room for two hours. Between the skillful framing, slow push-ins and micro camera movements, scenes of just people standing in a room suddenly become endlessly gripping. Shots circling around behind the action or through the slots of the room dividers feel pointedly fun, the viewer actively cast as a the eves-dropping interloper. Third, the casting is great, and fourth, the dialogue is superb. You get all of these nuanced points of view naturally inserted into long stream of consciousness monologues that feel like actual conversations. It gets a little preachy, but it always comes across naturally. Casting Leslie Odom as Sam Cooke was also a stroke of genius for his great vocal ability alone and, in general, all four of them are just the right amount of recognizable without feeling caricature-y.

It doesn’t try to amount to much more than delivering on a solid conversation. Which is fine! Throw in some genuinely poignant parallels to the current day, mixed with the historic struggle for black power, and you’ve got a really memorable anti-formulaic biopic.

3) Martin Eden (2019, dir. Pietro Marcello)

Who knew taking Jack London’s quasi-autobiographical novel about a young, Oakland-based, blue collar career sailor skyrocketing to international fame as a writer would translate so well to the shores of Naples? Personally I’m thrilled we're moving back towards broad stroke adaptation films, even in a small way, because cinema is all the better for it.

Martin Eden is a joy to watch, not just for its intelligent updating tie-in with the Communist struggle in midcentury Italy, but for its impressive editing that seamlessly melts into itself through unannounced time shifts and boldly colorized archival footage. I’m also baffled by why people who colorize black and white film seem to think the color red wasn't invented until 1980. It’s always this washed out muck that barely rises past sepia. Thankfully the colorist on this film clearly understands the benefits of normal clothing colors or natural skin tone instead of trying to fuss over preserving every minute detail to retain the 'realism' of a colorless world that never existed.

Which is of course one of the themes of Martin Eden, defining what reality actually is – specifically, whether or not we can escape our upbringings to truly transcend class. The illusion of education as the great equalizer, the naivety and inverse glass ceiling of the educated laid bare; the one who has worked his way up from the docks now cursed by both his experiences and inability to reconcile this knowledge with the lives of those who live above it all. Martin Eden is at its best when it’s dissecting the poisonous promises of accomplishment and the agonizing importance of timing over innate skill. Hard work is not a golden ticket, it’s a tedious slog. Whoever dares to actually take society up on this Capitalist promise is immediately met with constant rejection and naysaying. Your best intentions be damned, to leave one world of pain is to enter into a new one.

4) Shithouse (2020, dir. Cooper Raiff)

I’m still shocked I actually liked a college film for once in my life. Despite its censor-worthy name, Shithouse is as disarmingly tender as its main character. Alex is struggling through his first year of college and all of the depression that comes with leaving an otherwise cozy childhood nest. What I appreciate the most about Shithouse is its ability to indulge in a type of innocence without drowning in nostalgia. Alex is going through painful but inevitable changes, learning to push through the sadness of growing up and forcing himself to work to find new positives in life. Perhaps 2020 was the best year to look back on my own lonely college years and reevaluate how far I’ve come – last year may have been about as lonely and depressing, but at least now I own my own couch. Read my full review here.

5) The Twentieth Century (2019, dir. Matthew Rankin)

I’m wasn’t gonna not rep what was definitely one of the weirdest and best looking new movies I’ve seen in ages. The Twentieth Century is an artistic fever dream of color and style and sardonic humor and I loved it – even when it's extremely gross. Where else can you get your shoe-sniffing, baby seal puppet clubbing, art deco, cum-cactus explosion fix at 3am on a Tuesday by the outskirts of Ontario?! I already waxed poetically about subverting the tired biopic formula, building an emotional connection to history through reading the correspondence of public figures and being a dumb American: read my full review here.

6) She Dies Tomorrow (2020, dir. Amy Seimetz )

What a year for She Dies Tomorrow to have come out in, a film that downright weaponizes the anxiety of anticipation. Even the finality of death, in comparison, feels far less terrifying than having to live in fear of its inevitability. Amy Seimetz’ film about a woman who is so positive she's going to die tomorrow that her fear spreads like some sort of Ring VHS tape gone wild, basically sums up the last 12 months for me. Throw in some nuanced commentary on Female Anxiety and you’ve got yourself a bonafide keeper. Read my full review here.

7) The Photograph (2020, dir. Stella Meghie)

I’ll be honest: I went to see this movie strictly because I wanted to live vicariously through my fav talented hotties Issa Rae and Lakeith Stanfield as they make out. As far as that situation goes, A+ great film. But hey, turns out this was actually a pretty solid Romance flick in other respects too. Mae (Rae) finds herself thrown into an existential crisis after her estranged mother, a renowned photographer, dies, leaving her with a multitude of unanswered questions. She crosses paths with journalist Michael (Stanfield) after he takes an interest in the story behind one of her mother’s photographs, unwittingly sending the two down a path of self discovery.

I was pleasantly surprised by how nice and sweet this was without being sappy. Instead of the genre-expected cheesy reminiscing and Lifetime movie reveals, The Photograph really takes the time to chew the fat with its characters. When these characters have a self discovery it feels earned and impactful, not just a corny plot device to sell more music swells. Strong female characters wrestling with not being able to express their emotions the way society expects them to? Heck yeah. Women who choose career over love? Heck yeah. A memorably dreamy Robert Glasper soundtrack? Heck yeah. Issa Rae boning Lakeith Stanfield? Heck yeah.

8) Tesla (2020, dir. Michael Almereyda)

In a year that felt like we were being struck by lightning on a daily basis, Michael Almereyda's lighthearted Tesla biopic was a breath of fresh air. Like Martin Eden, we need more of this sort of broad stroke biopic that knows when to abandon linear storytelling in favor of mining a more abstract emotional truth. I dug the fourth wall breaking silliness and the emphasis on the powerful women in Tesla’s life in contrast to his own self defeatist impulses. Read my full review here.

9) Wolfwalkers (2020, dir. Tomm Moore, Ross Stewart)

God I miss traditional animation. Why studios spend like 100 million more on the blandest CGI I will never understand. I’ve been meaning to check out Cartoon Saloon’s "Irish Folklore Trilogy" for ages and I can’t believe it took the last installment for me to finally make the effort. Wolfwalkers tells the tale of a wolf mother Moll, her daughter Mebh and a their pack living in the forests of Kilkenny in the 1600s. Moll and Mebh aren’t just any ol’ pair of ladies living in the woods, they’re wolfwalkers – when they sleep their spirits exit their human bodies and become wolves, able to frolic in the forest or terrify the town as needed. When the town’s Lord Protector calls upon master hunter Bill Goodfellowe to help exterminate these ‘pests,’ the hunter’s own daughter Robyn complicates matters by mistakenly befriending Mebh and turning into a wolfwalker herself.

I would have died for this movie as a child who was borderline unhealthily obsessed with dogs and wolves. As an adult who still loves dogs and wolves I enjoyed this too, but it had a lot more to live up to. I kept thinking of Princess Mononoke, which this resembles in part as far as an industrial town versus a wild and majestic forest goes, but it manages to stay far more black and white in its lines of right and wrong. It settles instead for being a sweet tale of female friendship and a father’s redemption upon learning his daughter has bloomed into the very thing he thought he hated. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it’s truly a breath of fresh air to see some skillfully cinematic 2D animation. I’m definitely inspired to check out the previous two in the folklore trilogy now.

10) Emma. (2020, dir. Autumn de Wilde)

Perhaps it’s because this was one of the last films I saw in theaters, or perhaps it’s because I’ve been a fan of Autumn De Wilde’s photography ever since she worked with Beck in the early 2000s, but Emma. ended up being a standout for me. It’s also been sort of robbed in the 2020 short lists and I’m here to represent. Where Netflix’s fluffy Bridgerton updates a stuffy genre with unconventional casting, Emma. does its part through inspired direction, art direction, and a modern comedic sensibility. Based on the Jane Austen novel, Emma. stars a pre-Queen’s Gambit Anya Taylor-Joy as the titular socialite who spends her days matchmaking and breaking as she pleases. It is only when she meets a man better at playing her game than she, that Emma realizes the errors of her selfish ways.

I was floored by how gorgeous the costumes, the interiors and the perfectly manicured grounds were in this, there's nary a stitch or a leaf out of place. It’s simply so gorgeous to look at you barely notice the film takes a bit too long to warm up. When the love triangle does kick in though, it’s a fun gossipy, romp with comedic beats that feel like they live somewhere in-between Wes Anderson and Napoleon Dynamite. Johnny Flynn getting so angry he has to take off multiple layers of restrictive 1800s clothing being a stand out moment. An impressive debut for director de Wilde, excited to see what she comes up with next.

Honorable mentions: Never Rarely Something Always, Dick Johnson is Dead, The King of Staten Island, Borat Subsequent Movie Film, The Personal History of David Copperfield