The 50 Best Movies of 2019

20. A Hidden Life

There are plenty of war films about the deeds of great and terrible men in war, and World War II especially. After all, that’s the only one with Nazis in it, a globe-spanning conflict with one side so undeniably monstrous the other instantly seems heroic by comparison. There are also a fair number of anti-war films about small and powerless men, the boots on the ground just struggling to stay alive as pawns in a terrible game. War films are generally split into these two schools, both of which ultimately revolve around power (or the lack thereof). But Terence Malick’s A Hidden Life, a quietly profound film if there ever was one, eschews all the usual arcs and values of war films to prioritize a question shockingly few films ultimately care all too much about: what does it mean to be good? In sharing the true story of Franz Jägerstätter (August Diehl), an Austrian farmer conscripted into World War II who refuses to swear fealty to Hitler and the Third Reich, A Hidden Life displays a remarkable dedication to depicting small acts and their profound consequences. Despite the beauty of its cinematography and the bucolic landscapes that make up a significant portion of the film, it’s a tough watch, but a deeply moving one. In focusing on Franz’s loving relationship with his wife Franziska (Valerie Pachner) and their daughters, and the impact of Franz’s actions on not just his own life but his family, ostracized from their close-knit community on account of his defiance, A Hidden Life zeroes in moral quandaries most other films ignore. There are many movies out there celebrating the wartime achievements of “great” men, but this one instead solemnly turns its eye towards the struggle of a man simply trying to be good in a world where, contrary to standard Hollywood narratives, is neither commended nor rewarded. As mentioned, it’s not the easiest film to watch, and when I first saw it, I honestly didn’t know what to think. It took some time to fully digest. But now, with a few months hindsight, I feel quite confident in saying A Hidden Life is a masterpiece, the sort of film that reverberates around in your brain indefinitely and sticks with you long after the credits roll. (Ciara Wardlow)

19. Apollo 11

One of the greatest gifts of Apollo 11 is the wonderful brag of a credit that is “Cinematography by Michael Collins, Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong.” While some suggest Apollo 11 rises above its documentary form, in actuality the film is a picture-perfect credit to the power of the medium. Combining intense real-life imagery and stakes with moving thematic value is no easy task, but Apollo 11 traverses this ground seamlessly. Directed and edited by Todd Douglas Miller, the film tracks the Apollo 11 space mission using gorgeously restored archive footage and intelligently designed animations. It’s often challenging to communicate the weight of events so long gone, but Apollo 11 emphasizes the seismic nature of the moon landing scientifically and culturally. On top of a brilliantly constructed narrative, the footage is so gorgeous that any modern-day cinematographer could only hope to achieve its levels of prescient beauty and composition. Secretly one of the most emotional and cathartic films of the year, Apollo 11 stays with you as any narrative feature would, and in many ways is just as lingering as the historical event itself. (Margaret Pereira)

18. Aniara

Popular science fiction films are typically in the form of big entertainment, and recent examples like Gravity and Blade Runner 2049 also show an ability to earn critical acclaim too. More challenging ones, though, rarely find the audience they deserve. That’s the case with this brilliant slice of space-set disaster as a routine intergalactic trip takes an epic turn into the unknown. The ship becomes a microcosm of humanity’s worst traits, and while it’s a glorious downer in many ways it’s also endlessly creative and frighteningly entertaining. The sci-fi trappings can’t mask its accurate capturing of humankind, but it’s enough to offer a sliver of hope that it’s a future we can avoid. (Rob Hunter)

17. Us

There was some consternation amongst our team about the placement of Us and I have a theory about it. Think about how much has happened in 2019. It’s easy for a movie that released in March to slide back into the background, especially as we’ve gone through so much in the intervening months. It happens every year. But I’m not going to let it happen to Jordan Peele’s Us, an electric thriller anchored by — say it with me, now — an Oscar-Worthy Performance from Lupita Nyong’o as both hero and monster. If Parasite hadn’t come along and reminded us to eat the rich, we’d still be having a conversation about the Reagan-era subversions Jordan Peele was scratching at when he wrote this film. What I’m saying is that we should all force our friends and family to revisit Us at our New Year’s Eve gathering. Then talk about Reagan and our social safety net. It could be fun. (Neil Miller)

16. Marriage Story

Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story is far from the first film to center a doomed romance, but it can certainly count itself among the best – and most harrowing – of its peers. A powerful examination into the ways we love and hurt and learn to live with one another, Baumbach toes a fine but largely even-handed line between his two leads, Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver), returning time and again to the fact that we’re simply witnessing two flawed, good people at their worst. Much has been said about Driver’s performance, though, and rightfully so; his Charlie, rattled and selfish as he is, is particularly angled toward generating our empathy, largely because he constantly remains a step behind throughout the film’s brutal divorce proceedings. His high-strung balancing act between civility and aggression, work and parenthood, New York and LA, all comes to a head in one of the biggest gut-punches of the year: his rendition of “Being Alive” from Company, a song that, like Marriage Story itself, captures a shifting, complicated, human desire for connection and independence all at once. Like Charlie, I cried four times. Somebody just hold me too close. Somebody hurt me too deep. (Christina Smith)

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10