Old & New: Veronica's Top Movies of 2021
2021 was a bit of a return to form in my world in regards to viewing habits. Theaters were open by my birthday in March, and I was able to celebrate the way I have for most of my adult life: going to see a movie. The first movie I saw upon cinema’s triumphant return was Promising Young Woman, which did not make the cut for this list as you’ll see. Still, it was great being back to sitting quietly alone in the dark.
My challenge for this year’s top ten list was the question of the order, the ranking. All the movies I saw and thoroughly enjoyed were spread across a very wide spectrum, and it began to feel a bit like comparing apples to oranges. Do I select number one based on the impact it had on me after the viewing like the more gruesome selections on my list? Do I go with the immaculate period piece or the ambitious science fiction masterpiece? How do I pick from a list of my favorites which one I truly thought was ‘the best’?
The answer is: I don’t. Like my 2018 top ten where the central theme of quiet desperation was the highlight, these offerings come to you in no particular order. Some are older, some are new. Some were beautiful and poetic; others sharp or comedic. Most of them were wildly upsetting so we’ll begin with the softer fare…
Sky High (2005, Dir. Mike Mitchell)
My introduction to this movie happened over a decade ago when my friend’s father took both me and my friend to Liverpool (where he’s from) for New Year’s. He watched this on the plane and was laughing so hard we assumed he was drunk. (Despite the fact that he was laughing like one who is high.) Later in life, when I mentioned this story, I was instructed to immediately watch this movie. Quite happy that I did. What I dismissed as a dopey Disney-type comedy has considerable teeth and talent behind it. Bruce Campbell and Kevin MacDonald are the highlight, and both delivered the best laughs of the film in both understated and overblown ways. As is usually the case, I based my assumptions of Sky High on dumb TV spots, and was completely wrong.
Vice (2018, Dir. Adam McKay)
That’s the last of the actual, straight forward comedies as we move deeper into my ‘best of’ territory. At home viewings of movies like Muriel’s Wedding and Vice really surprised me, and added some twisted levity to what would otherwise be a really intense year of film-watching. Muriel’s Wedding, for starters, had always been presented (at least to me) as akin to My Big Fat Greek Wedding rather than Women On The Verge of A Nervous Breakdown. I was quite startled by how distressing and strange this movie was though “Waterloo” by ABBA did become the soundtrack to my life for most of the year. Read my full review on that movie over here.
On the flip side, I found myself laughing at Vice more than I expected. I knew that there would be some funny moments in it, considering the director and team behind it, but I never thought a movie featuring the start of an infamous US war and a man often compared to Darth Vader would have me in stitches. Since I’m predictable, I have to point out the absolutely amazing performances by Amy Adams and Christian Bale – but with those two, who’s surprised? Both of them melt into their character, a feat considerably impressive for Adams since she isn’t as physically transformed as Bale. This is a movie that allows for missing reels and offers no mea culpas when it can’t give a clean explanation or a clear narrative. Humans and history and reality is messy; Vice doesn’t pretend it can avoid this fate.
Lamb (2021, dir. Valdimar Jóhannsson)
To stick with films that didn’t go the way I expected, we’ve got Lamb, a movie I assumed was going to be about nature raging against humans but instead was an odd family drama. A childless couple comes across a creature that has the body of a little girl and the head of a lamb. They take the creature in, name her Ada, and declare her as theirs. There is some small conflict with animals from the flock coming to bray at Ada’s window but until the very end, this is a sometimes sweet and sometimes uncomfortable fable about family and love. For me, seeing this in the middle of a pandemic where we’ve all had to change and adapt as new information came to the surface was perfect. Somewhere in the layers ruminating on loss and affection was a nod to how adaptive humans are; how easily we find a normalcy in what initially appears strange.
The Voices (2014, dir. Marjane Satrapi)
Delving into madness, as one does when one is me, we come to The Voices starring Ryan Reynolds as a man who would really prefer to be sane and Anna Kendrick as the woman who finds out too late how much damage someone can cause accidentally. This is a graphic but also sort of whacky movie directed by Marjane Satrapi, who wrote and directed Persepolis. It’s a superbly art directed character study that belies its gory trappings and ends on a surreal musical number.
Nightmare Alley (2021, dir. Guillermo del Toro)
And as long as we’re here in the madness, let’s talk Nightmare Alley. I tend to be the first person who says a movie, even if I liked it, was too long. Yet in the case of this two and a half hour opus, I don’t feel that way at all. Gorgeous to look at, well acted, perfectly executed viscera, an all too short but still lingering shot of Bradley Cooper’s properly bulked up body, twisty enough to be intriguing without sacrificing logic… you get the picture. This is a movie that provides room for analysis or just a great time with Cooper as Stan, a carnie turned showman turned conman, and Cate Blanchett as the psychoanalyst who turns him into her puppet.
Prisoners of the Ghostland (2021, dir. Sion Sono)
Speaking of a great time, Prisoners of the Ghostland was being billed as the craziest movie Nic Cage ever did, and while I disagree on that claim, it certainly was quite the wild ride. Again, this is a story that can be taken as literally or as metaphorically as the viewer wants. It can be watched just for its strange beauty and fight sequences; it can be dissected into parts that equal points larger than itself. It builds a world that’s reality through the funhouse mirror where we can see how it mimics our own despite seeming so completely alien. Read my full review over here.
Incident in a Ghostland (2018, dir. Pascal Laugier)
Now we’re in Ghostlands, and they move from off-the-walls to claustrophobically frightening. Incident in a Ghostland by the notorious French director Pascal Laugier is the third movie of his I’ve seen, and I remain a reluctant fan. Whereas the horrorifc aspects in Martyrs was how much was shown, and how clinically the torture was inflicted, Ghostland created its dread by showing what might be happen or the aftermath of what had happened. Two young girls are being held captive by, as they say when they escape and encounter help, “a witch and an ogre” who claim they want to play with them like dolls. The older sister is put through torture first as the younger one disappears into a fantasy world, only to be ripped back out again right befor the tormentors turn their sights on her.
There are some elements of this film that raise eyebrows, and I can’t deny the moments I felt it was vilifying already misunderstood demographics. But many scenes stayed with me, like where the youngest sees the ogre using a blowtorch on an actual doll and knowing she’s next in line. On whole, I appreciated its commitment to being obtuse and bizarre so it made the cut. Congrats, Laugier. Maybe one day I’ll be a regular fan rather than a reluctant one.
The Sound of Violence (2021, dir. Alex Noyer)
But the torture’s not over yet. The Sound of Violence, covered earlier this year, was a small but fierce film that twisted the idea of victimhood and cycles of trauma. The main character of Alexis makes the journey from sympathetic to psychotic all while being somewhat unaware about how sick she’s become. She’s not Jerry from The Voices, trying to cling to sanity; Alexis finds a panacea in her depravity and sacrifices other people to her art. Obviously, the running thread of humans being discounted for the sake of entertainment is an important topic at the moment, and The Sound of Violence explored it without being too on the nose. I hesitate to call this film satire but there are some elements of it effectively skewering (in more ways than one) the concept of artistic genius and how it breeds a sense of being untouchable.
I Saw The Devil (2010, dir. Jee-woon Kim)
Which is not the case with I Saw The Devil, a gruesome masterpiece I was lucky enough to catch on Pluto Terror. Honorable mention goes to The Wailing, which I saw on the same channel in the same week. I sort of popped in and out of The Wailing though so I can’t say I fully watched it. I Saw The Devil is about no one being untouchable and how even the straightest arrows can fall victim to bloodlust.
This is an incredibly grisly and gorgeous film, which I’ve covered in detail recently, and highly recommend people see it. It might not be a crowd pleaser due to how intense a lot of the violence is but it also keeps its narrative eye firmly on the human side of the story. This movie is not just a vehicle for gore; it’s a pensive film on the nature of revenge and whether or not wrongs can ever be righted.
499 (2021, dir. Rodrigo Reyes)
On a similar but completely different note is the documentary 499. There’s been a trend in the past decade or so where documentaries are allowed to present in a sort of dreamlike way like 2014’s We Come As Friends. In 499, Cortez lands in Mexico but in current times and witnesses true life stories about the damage done by the cartel, by the legacy of being conquered, and by an oppressive government. Many of the movies I’m discussing are upsetting so this should go without saying but 499 covers some truly despicable actions and the stories presented are often more haunting than explicit torture and gore. One such moment, a mother describing the fatal attack on her thirteen-year-old daughter, stayed with me for a long time after viewing. It’s a documentary that questions motives, the concept of power, and how we might do things differently if we were privy to the fallout of our actions.
Dune (2021, dir. Denis Villeneuve)
It’s weird to be like, “let’s end this on a lighter note by bringing up one of the most densely written science fiction works that people have struggled to adapt for decades,” but here we are. I was ready to like Dune before I went into it. I’m a fan of the book, and had wished for a reasonable movie version since I was a child. I am thrilled to announce that I loved it, and remain excited for the second half. This time around, unlike the previous two Dune adaptations, everything was stripped down to the core story of an occupied planet being mined for fuel and the native population gearing up its resistance. The casting was spot on, and there were lots of solid visuals that gave the film an otherworldly but not quite trippy feel. Dune does not need to be as surreal as some adaptations suggest. Playing it closer to the bone, making it obvious how the conflicts in it mirror our own, strengthens a relatively simple story without adding in the millions of details from the book.
Overall, a good year for strange movies. Here’s to many, many, many more.
