Thursday, January 30, 2020

Ranking the Best Picture Nominees of 2020

Scene from The Irishman (2019)
One of the greatest games to play following every Oscar season is to see every film that's nominated in any given character. None are more fun than Best Picture, which remains the most anticipated category year in and year out, leaving behind a winner that is going to be talked about for decades and (very soon) a century. Now that I have seen every nominee in the class of 2020, I am throwing in my hat to determine which films I love the most and what are some of the weak spots on the list. As a whole, the films picked from 2019 presented another strong class that reflects the best of cinema's diverse potential. Could it be better? Sure, but the nine films here are no slouches.


Over the course of his career, writer-director Noah Baumbach has captured humanity at its core, doing its best to hold on as emotions drift apart. This personal story about a couple separating is a film that's simultaneously brutal and also deeply moving in ways that reflect how the legal system changes people, forcing one to consider what is important in their lives. With a tightly-wound script that understands the nuance of anguish and loneliness within a relationship, this is a powerhouse showcase for Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson as they turn a bare room into a place exploding with emotion, filling it with so much meaning that they feel immediately familiar. It's a touching film and one that shows that divorce is never an easy thing, leaving behind pain even as they struggle to carry on their normal lives. 


There's no better success story for 2019 than director Bong Joon-ho's relevant thriller that turns the working class against itself while turning a mansion into one of cinema's great labyrinths. The twists are constant, and the shock doesn't wear thin over time. If anything, every decision feels so thought-out that one can't appreciate the film fully without history books on how cultures treat each other. It's one of the most novel settings of any film last year, managing to convey visually the deeper economic struggles and how desperation turns people against each other. The fact that it's the first Korean movie to be so much as nominated at the Oscars is a shame because they're clearly missing many more international crossover masterpieces like this. 


The question facing writer-director Greta Gerwig's latest is one that faces any adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's seminal novel: how do you make it relevant? Despite taking place in the 19th century, Gerwig finds something contemporary in the journey of the four March sisters by exploring the idea of authorship and agency in one's life that isn't as perfectly reflected in other adaptations. One of her greatest breakthroughs is making the often maligned Amy March character into a sympathetic core of the film (though more credit should go to Florence Pugh for an excellent performance). Everything about the film is a period piece bursting with subtle modern techniques, such as coded wardrobe and a score that's just as much classical as it is poppier motifs. It's one of the rare adaptations that grapples with its source material in hopes of finding something greater inside. The results don't disappoint and if anything proves just how much weight lies in the literary fiction of our past, especially from women who deserved more recognition for their hard work like this.


There was never going to be a better team to make this film than director Martin Scorsese with the actors Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, and Robert De Niro in one of his late-career bests. Sure the visual effects of de-aging can be distracting, but that's to ignore what Scorsese achieves over the course of this year (and this decade's) biggest Best Picture nominee. It's the story of a man looking back on his life and discovering how he became complicit in a life of evil while losing everything that he loved. The slowness is interminable not in terms of entertainment, but to better reflect how De Niro had the choice to walk away from crime at several points and didn't. It's the gangster movie to end all gangster movies, commenting on why we root for the bad guys and the emotional weight that comes with these decisions. Had it come from anyone than the collective team that brought us The Godfather and Goodfellas, it likely would feel disingenuous. From them, it feels more personal and ends a narrative that we've been watching play out for 40 years. It's a career-defining achievement by Scorsese and confirms that Netflix isn't messing around anymore. If Roma was a warm-up, this is the big show that defines the next era for the streaming service. 

5. 1917

There are few films that feel like they reach the potential of cinema's ability to immerse the audience quite like this. With a story that's largely driven by action, the long-take approach is a constant miracle, finding the audience dropping into trenches and running across fields in peril. The scope is impossible to ignore as they witness the majesty of a grunt forced to deliver a message, seeing just how big the world is around them, looking at the destruction around them. It's one of the greatest set designs in film history and made all the more powerful by director Sam Mendes' excellent collaboration with cinematographer Roger Deakins, who makes every scene into a work of art. By the time that composer Thomas Newman swirls with one of his best scores, it's a masterpiece of raw emotional intensity, full of small moments for the audience to regain their breath. This is the work of a master pushing the limits, and in the process creates one of the most compelling looks at war that's ever been captured. 


Despite countless comparisons of whimsical delight to Wes Anderson, director Taika Waititi's Nazi satire is something even more slight than that. It's a story about how people can be manipulated to believe in hate through peer pressure. If it feels childish, it's because Waititi is clearly interested in looking at this world through the eyes of a boy, wondering why the world around him is so hateful. Waititi is enjoyable as the imaginary Hitler, constantly acting as a surrogate dad with flamboyance, not unlike Mel Brooks adaptations. It draws a fine line in how it approaches the thorny subject, finding just how ridiculous hatred can be when formed by cultish behavior. It's a story about trying to think for ourselves, to look at the world in times of despair and find something more beautiful. It's a satire that feels necessary for times like this, and luckily it's very funny at the same time. 


Over the course of his recent career, writer-director Quentin Tarantino has found power in cinema's potential by turning oppressive figures into heroes who destroy evil in grand fashion. It seems inevitable that he would tackle a film that celebrates a turning point in celluloid's history where the Manson murders brought innocence to an end. The film captures the powerful escapism that comes with immersing yourself in pop culture, blasting the radio and playing make-believe on film sets even as a real danger lies just out of frame. For some, it's the Manson family lurking at the Spahn Ranch. For others, it's the sense that a film career is coming to an end. This is a moment when Hollywood history can be shifted, and in the process reminds us of what cinema can offer. It can change things for the better, letting us believe in an alternate world, if just for three hours. 


There have been few films in the past few decades that understand the art of car racing with such clarity as this. For some, it's the bonding over turning gears and speed tests that are expertly caught with a stylish flourish. The cameras can't swoop low enough and the editing can't move fast enough. The adrenaline is powerful and placing it in the context of a famous 24 Hour Race at Le Mans brings in economics, legacy, patriotism, and a sense of the lowest class being taken seriously. Why build a car? There's a lot of pride in knowing that something one creates has the potential to last for decades and years as a testament to human ingenuity. It's a film built for gearheads and history buffs, but also is one that will make everyone else understand why there's joy in spending hours in a garage fine-tuning a car's motor. Sometimes it's about more than having the right parts. It's about pushing potential to its fullest. 

9. Joker

It didn't take long for Best Picture to get another comic book movie into their selective circles. Following Black Panther's groundbreaking achievement, director Todd Phillips turns one of Batman's most beloved foes into the source of a socially relevant commentary regarding mental health and a society that neglects them. While the film poorly handles a lot of elements regarding this, there's something to enjoy about how many conversations it brought up in its wake, proving the prodding nature of cinema. By the end, it almost doesn't exist as a comic book movie and goes into this hallucinatory, violent gritty drama that's clearly seen a lot of Martin Scorsese and Sidney Lumet movies. It proves that there's a lot of different directions for this genre to go, and all it took was Joaquin Phoenix dancing on a staircase to do it.



How would you rank the nominees? Which one is your favorite?

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