Best Films I Watched This Year
From Buster Keaton to a domestic potrait.
I’ve always loved movies, but that love has reached new depths in the past five years. To help keep myself organized, in 2020 I started tracking every feature and short I watch on Letterboxd, along with assigning it a rating. This has allowed me to more easily look back on the year once it ends to determine what the best things I watched all year were, be they new releases or not. I’ve put together lists in 2021 and 2022, although of course this blog didn’t exist then.
Now that it does, this serves as a companion piece to my year-end rankings. As mentioned in that piece, I achieved my goal of watching 365 unique features in 2023. Instead of trying to talk about all of them (can you imagine?), I put together this list to talk about the best. Some I’d seen before, but most I hadn’t. Each is special to me in one way or another. Enjoy!
The List
This list is a bit more straightforward than the year end wrap-up list. It’s just a top 25, with five six runners up. No need to go negative here: we’ve too much ground to cover! For each one, I link my Letterboxd review, and also put some thoughts here, too.
Note that most of those Letterboxd reviews include spoilers. I’ve marked all of them as such, so when you visit the link, you won’t be shown the review by default (although you can click a link to unhide it). I recommend ignoring them if you have any intention of watching the film.
Runners Up
Six films falling just outside the top 25. Not every film can make the cut, so there are some absolutely incredible films here. But I’ll only write a sentence or two, so I can focus on the ones which did get top honors.
31. Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One
I was gonna limit myself to five runners up, but this would have been left out, which was unacceptable. Likely the most ambitious film on this list, it interrogates the nature of acting and filmmaking itself, with numerous competing lines drawn between reality and the artifice of the camera, then complicating where you stand in relation to all of them. It’s one of the most ambitious films on this list, and remains incredibly far ahead of its time over fifty years after its release.
30. In the Mood for Love (2000)
A gorgeous and tortuous display of unimaginable longing and passion, of two people who could barely be further apart despite standing right next to each other. The atmosphere of a neon-noir draped over a burning forbidden romance. You’ll never look at a rain soaked alleyway the same way again.
29. Something in the Dirt (2022)
One of the most unique sci-fi films I’ve ever seen, mixing narrative layers and unreliable presentation and questioning of what is reality with Pynchon-like events which hint at stumbling into something much larger than our protagonists can begin to understand. They manage to make a movie which takes place almost exclusively in a single room apartment feel incredibly dynamic and exciting, with some superbly interesting visuals and conceits.
28. All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)
They say there’s no such thing as an anti-war film, since to make a good movie is to inherently glamorize violence, but if any film has succeeded in doing so, it’s this. There is no moment of triumph, no excitement which isn’t immediately deflated by terror, and all is tragic. The speech Paul gives in front of his old class is seared into my brain: it’s gut wrenching, for both its content and the reception it receives.
27. Angst (1983)
It feels strange to call a movie about a spree killer slaughtering a family brilliant. But the movie deftly avoids trivializing the violence or lionizing its perpetrator: we almost exclusively hear him speak through his self-aggrandizing internal monologue, displaying his delusional opinion of himself and self-perceived brilliance contrasted with his incompetence and how ineptly he carries out every single step of the attack and aftermath, only getting as far as he does because the family is caught off-guard by his violation of social norms.
26. Antiviral (2012)
The oft-forgotten feature debut of director Brandon Cronenberg, this is a disturbing tale of celebrity worship taking to an absurd an unsettling degree, one in which no regard is given to ethics or consent. Cronenberg immediately established himself as incredible at crafting a world where nothing is obviously wrong (at first), but things are just…off, no needing to lean as heavily on his father’s body horror crutch, in favor of twisting the mundane into the deeply upsetting.
Top 25
The main event! Its oldest entry is from 1924, although the vast majority are from the twenty-first century, including three new releases. Nearly two-thirds have a primary language other than English. Some were new to me, some I’d seen before, and a few I watched multiple times in 2023. All are worthy of your time.
25. Wings of Desire (1987)
To give you a sense of the caliber of film on this list, we’re starting off with a classic of the 80s. At the same time, it’s representative of my favorite types of films, being a slow, deliberately, stunningly beautiful mediation on the human condition from the perspective of two angels…and Peter Falk. The movie truly takes its time, spending maybe two-thirds of its runtime establish its characters and the world they inhabit before clarifying where the plot is moving. It’s shot in a lovely black & white, and switches to color to drive home its core themes and viewpoint. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and optimistic, and I’ve seen very few films which are anything like it.
24. The Worst Person in the World (2021)
I watched this for the first time in 2022, and it remains one of my favorite movies of 2021. It was the first time I considered the “delayed coming of age” genre, which has quickly become one of my favorites due to its personal relatability. And it featured some of the best performances of the year, despite none of them getting nominated.
We’re treated to an incredibly complex and fully realized person, just one who hasn’t quite figured themselves out yet. I always forget that it makes use of voice-over, as it’s used so sparingly and for unexpected moments. But I’ll never forget the now iconic scene of Julie running through the streets of Oslo as time stands still. It’s a beautiful, messy, and wide ranging film, covering all sorts of topics and ideas, and realized damn near perfectly.
23. The Act of Killing (2012)
One of only two documentaries on the proper list. It’s one of the most upsetting and affecting films I’ve ever watched. The filmmaker handles an absurdly thorny subject matter impeccably well, and lets the subjects incriminate themselves, leading to a truly haunting picture.
He invites some of those deeply involved in the 1965 mass murder of Indonesian “communists” to recreate their actions for a film. It is incredibly disturbing to see how lighthearted and jovial they are as they talk about various techniques they used to improve the efficiency of murder. And to see how the groups responsible are still strongly supported and celebrated by the government. At its core, it’s about people, which does result in some incredible moments, especially as we get to the end.
22. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)
As soon as the characters start talking, you know you're in a heightened reality. It’s hard to put your finger on, but something about the deliberate and mundane and precise way every single person speaks just feels…wrong. They’re stilted, but in such an obvious and perfect way that it creates an air of dread instead of the frustration of incompetence or cheese. The effect is that it has you on edge long before things take the anticipated turn. Not that you’re likely to have any idea what that turn is, mind you. And even once revealed, Lanthimos does an amazing job of keeping it just ambiguous enough that you can’t help but feel like you’re missing something.
I can think of almost no other actors who could pull off the lead roles of Dr. Murphy and Martin besides Farrell and Keoghan. Both are bananas good, hitting that right mix of robotic and human to appear alien while still garnering sympathy.
21. Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2003)
I’m a fan of slow cinema. If you’re unfamiliar, it refers to a minimalist style of storytelling, often featuring long, locked down shots and not very much dialog. There’s basically no action, and the movie tends to be pretty quiet. It relies heavily on visuals, treating them as paintings, and on the actors to convey emotion and meaning through physical performance, without vocalizing much.
This is not the only slow cinema movie on this list, but it may be the purest.
We’re witnessing the events in a Japanese microcinema during its final screening before it closes for good, as it shows the Chinese film Dragon Inn. There are a handful of people wandering in and out of the theater, who feel like the corporeal spirits of the place, ushering it to its end. Each of them remain distinct characters, occasionally interacting, other times watching the film, and still others clearly distracted as their intentions differ. It’s completely hypnotic, a meditation on memory and legacy and the importance of movies.
It’s also relatively short, so if you’ve ever wondered if slow cinema is for you, this is a good place to start.
20. The Wolf House (2018)
This had long been on my list of movies to watch, but it jumped to the top after learning the animators were responsible for the best scene in Beau Is Afraid. I’m only sad I didn’t get to it sooner.
You’ve never seen animation like this. An ever evolving mixture of papier-mâché and drawings on the walls of a single square room, once the story starts the animation never sits still. Figures are constructed in front of you, change form, flow from 3D to the walls and back, with constant adjustments and refinements being made as the story progresses, and eventually melting away or morphing into something else entirely. Meanwhile, the camera occasionally swivels around, adding further depth to the image.
All the while narrated by an unseen Wolf, whose seductive ideas and speech slowly become more and more menacing. This is an abstract telling of the horrifying real story of Colonia Dignidad in Chile, the home country of the directors/animators.
19. Michael Clayton (2007)
I’ve always enjoyed movies, but as I alluded to in the preamble, it was only five years ago or so I began considering myself a cinephile. As such, most of the films on this list I watched for the first time in the last few years, if not this year. But not Michael Clayton, which I caught in the theater on its initial release. I loved it then, and love it even more now.
At the time, what grabbed me was the coolness of Clayton himself, the bizarre behavior of Arthur (rest in peace, Tom Wilkinson), and the clear conspiracy at its core. I also credit it with introducing me to Tilda Swinton, who’s since become one of my favorite actors. On re-watch, it’s the deep ethical questions about the case and why Arthur starts losing it and the lengths Karen will (ineptly) go to clean up the mess. It’s the the way Clayton is conflicted about everything, and yet willing to go along with it, even as his uneasiness grows. And it’s the closing shot, which is absolutely iconic, and stuck with me across sixteen years.
18. Close (2022)
The first of three from my best of 2023 new releases list to make this list. I caught it twice, first at home and then in a theater. I wrote a Letterboxd review for each instance, both with spoilers. In my 2023 wrap-up post I had more to say about the film, so instead of repeating myself, just go read those thoughts.
17. Beau Is Afraid (2023)
I saw Beau Is Afraid twice in theaters, so in addition to my spoiler-free full review, I wrote a spoiler-filled review on Letterboxd. Since I’ve already written about this movie a bunch, in lieu of me saying any more here, go check that out instead.
16. Naked (1993)
Something about aggressively unpleasant films speaks to me and draws me in. I find myself utterly transfixed, embroiled in the world of the characters and imaging what it’s like to be them, what they must be thinking, how they approach the world. Few movies I’ve seen feature more reprehensible and opaque people than Mike Leigh’s 1993 story of young adults in a post-Thatcher UK, left to fend for themselves and act on their most base desires.
David Thewlis is absolutely brilliant as a despondent street philosopher and misanthrope, rightfully earning recognition for what would be his breakout performance. But equally astounding is Katrin Cartlidge as a similarly nihilistic woman whose life is altered by his brief whirlwind presence.
15. Birdboy: The Forgotten Children (2015)
Animation is so often relegated to children’s stories that people forget it’s a medium which can enjoy a tremendous variety of uses. And when they do, it’s all too often for the shock value of that perception clashing with disturbing visuals. I’m not going to pretend Birdboy completely avoids that: it does contain some truly brutal violence. But it does so in the interest of telling a gorgeous and haunting adult fairy tale, one of perseverance in the face of a world determined to destroy you. Of how in such a place, all we really have is each other. How you must make your own purpose, no matter the cost. Out of the darkness of this tale comes an undeniable light.
14. Oldboy (2003)
The first of three films directed by Park Chan-wook to appear on this list, it’s probably his best known. It certainly launched him onto the scene in the US, where its sheer brutality and manic energy and shocking resolution garnered Park a reputation he’s never quite shaken. It’s part of his informal “Vengeance trilogy”, a sequence of films looking at the concept and effects of revenge, with Oldboy focused on its tendency to come back on you tenfold, and wondering if it can ever really be worth the price. It’s stylish, it’s wickedly funny, and you’ll never look at hammers the same way again.
13. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
For years, I’d been hearing about this as one of the most intense portrayals of a relationship and yearning ever put to film. Just about everyone I knew in real life or read online spoke of it so glowingly, I decided to dive in and buy the DVD, betting that after finally watching, I’d want to always have it available. And I was right.
Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel do an absolutely remarkable job of acting with their full bodies, making their thoughts and feelings perfectly clear despite so few words passing between them. The story takes its time, so you truly get to know both of them, making everything feel so natural and grounded. I’m not automatically drawn to period pieces, so that this one took such hold really means something.
12. Sherlock, Jr. (1924)
I already knew I was a Buster Keaton fan. I still haven’t seen a ton of his films, but each one is great. His gift for physical comedy is second to none (sorry Chaplin). That’s the thing he’s famous for. Hell, everyone knows the image of the house falling around him from Steamboat Bill Jr., even though I doubt most people have seen that movie: I know I haven’t.
However, what really gets me here is the quality of filmmaking. Yes, it’s bust a gut hilarious. But that’s a given with Keaton. I wasn’t expecting my jaw to hit the floor at the sheer creativity, both of the stunts and also of the surreality of the movie theater scene. Not only that, the movie has some real things to say about the class divide. Despite being barely feature length, it’s clear why some consider this the best movie ever made.
11. Aftersun (2022)
I walked out of my first viewing thinking this was pretty good. But over the next week or so, it refused to leave my head. My mind’s eye kept seeing Paul Mescal standing in the middle of a dance floor, the tracking of an old video recorder tape, the reflection of the hotel room in the TV. The way that first time director Charlotte Wells had the tremendous confidence to let scenes play out way longer than you expect, as if the camera was left on in hopes of capturing something special, something raw. Sometimes it does, sometimes not. Whatever it captures, it’s real, and it’s visceral.
Aftersun is a masterpiece, a meditation on memory and legacy and childhood and parenting and all that goes unsaid, yet is plain as day if you know where to look. With it, Wells establishes herself as one to watch, and I cannot wait to see where her career takes her.
10. Decision to Leave (2022)
After watching it on the day of its US release on Mubi, I had the opportunity to catch it again in the theater, and did so without a second thought. What’s presented as a mystery with a strange and coy character at its center quickly opens itself up to be a far more complex organism, defying easy classification. It ends up being far more introspective and poetic, commenting on the nature of love and obsession and passion. The characters don’t slip neatly into any pre-defined mold, and the performances bring them to life in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
Director Park and DP Kim Ji-yong construct an absolutely gorgeous film, full of stunning compositions and shots designed to keep you just off balance. They find ways to visualize abstract concepts in fresh ways, such as when Hae-joon is spying on Seo-rae and we see him physically in her apartment, even as the voice he’s hearing is clearly coming through a speaker. We peer up at characters when they operate phones or look at dead fish. Best of all, each of these shots (and more) are motivated: that is, they play into the themes or character’s mental state or the story.
Park more clearly than ever before showed off his love of Hitchcock, and yet did so in a unique manner. Is there any wonder he’s one of my favorites?
9. North by Current (2021)
I’m not big on documentaries. For the longest time, I thought all of them followed the stereotypical “talking heads” structure, where it’s just interviews intercut with video relating to the topic. I thought Ken Burns, and that’s it. I can’t say for sure what changed my mind, but it honestly might have been Jon Bois’ work, webseries like Pretty Good and The Bob Emergency. I’d never seen anything like them, but I learned a lot, had a bunch of fun watching, and found myself thinking about much deeper concepts than what they said on the surface. This opened up a whole world of experimental documentaries to me, a whole new type of artistry, to saying nothing of docufiction and other ways of blurring the lines in order construct an emotional portrait.
North By Current would not be possible in that old, stodgy format. Not really, not with anything approaching the level of intimacy and raw emotion on display here. Director Angelo Madsen Minax weaves together a few narrative threads when he goes to visit his family for the first time in a long time, for the first time since he transitioned to life as a man, for the first time since his sister was cleared of wrongdoing. But as central as those are to his experience, they’re but another layer in the messy existence of his hometown and his family’s lives. There’s so much more to this, so much more to him, and you come away with a better sense of a person than you could ever expect.
8. The Hunt (2012)
This was the second film I watched in 2023, and I’m still thinking about a year later. It’s such an intense and disturbing movie, exploring the power children don’t realize they have, granted to them by our strong desire to protect them. It’s a beautifully haunting depiction of mob mentality and what happens when the public attempts to take justice into its own hands. Mads Mikkelsen has never been better, asked to play a role which requires a perfectly pitched performance and delivering on it with aplomb. And it features one of my favorite endings I’ve seen all year.
7. Return to Seoul (2022)
Not only is it my favorite new release of 2023, it’s one of the best movies I watched this year, period.
I already wrote about this last week, so I won’t say any more. Except why haven’t you watched it yet?
6. Possessor (2020)
When Brandon Cronenberg does engage with body horror and extreme visuals, he is far better at using to construct a deep, meaningful story than his father. His ability to create a mood, to evoke vibes and dreamlike states and the deterioration of the mind and body in abstract ways is captivating. Possessor takes the familiar and makes it alien, takes the comfort of your daily routine and makes it threatening. The idea that some shadowy private company may use its tech to turn you into a meat puppet in order to get at its true target, collateral damage be damned, is unsettling. Because while the literalization is of course absurd, the effect of extremist ideologies on the average person is an analog, albeit more muted.
All of this is used to craft a tale which is ultimately about the importance of empathy, and how without it are we really even human? It is a grotesque and horrifying vision, but one that still manages to resonate.
5. Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)
I was one of the sizable population who decided to see this on the strength of it topping the 2022 Sight & Sound poll. I had been aware of the film, but the trailer did nothing to intrigue me, so I never bothered. But its place in the poll implied there was something there, so I looked for nearby screenings, which led to me catching it on a massive screen.
I sat transfixed, mesmerized for all 200 minutes.
The most impressive magic trick is the way director Chantal Akerman and actor Delphine Seyrig collaborate to create the feeling that we know Jeanne’s daily routine. The film covers just 48 hours in her life, yet we see so much of it, we see the deliberate precision by which she goes about her tasks, we see how perfectly choreographed each moment is. It’s impossible to imagine everything becoming so routine and mindless without constant repetition, exactly the same way every time.
So the moment something slips was the quietest yet most earth-shattering “Oh shit” moment of my movie year.
It is hypnotic, mesmerizing, quiet, and intense. It is a masterpiece, very deserving of its place atop that poll.
4. We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)
I kind of understand why this film wasn’t more well received. It’s a raw, ambiguous, slow cinema horror film. There’s a lot of world-building, which will likely feel like fat if you’re not already on board. It has a deep connection to some core parts of internet culture which are still around but have more or less fallen out of vogue. And it does little to try to bring you into its world: you’re either on its wavelength, or you’re not.
I was, from square one. To me, it’s one of the first movies to truly capture the feeling of what it’s like to exist online. Hell, I ended up writing a 1600 word essay on the film in addition to those Letterboxd reviews, so it’s clear how strongly it resonated with me. Every fiber of its existence resonates with me in some way, from my first experiences with creepypasta and ARGs, to the uncertainty of the sincerity of others online, to people getting way too invested in people and topics. Not to mention it has a couple of the freakiest moments I’ve ever seen in a movie, largely on the strength of how slowly and deliberately they develop.
As with a few others on this list, it represents an incredible amount of confidence from a first time narrative feature director (Schoenbrun technically debuted in 2018 with the documentary A Self-Induced Hallucination). The conviction that the audience will surrender themselves to your vision is audacious in a very impressive way. Unfortunately for Scheonbrun, it didn’t garner the praise being heaped on Aftersun and Past Lives. But to those for whom it worked, such as myself, it was a home run, and has me incredibly excited for their next film, I Saw the TV Glow.
3. The Assassin (2015)
Of the long list of slow cinema masterpieces I caught this year, this is hands down my favorite. It’s a careful, deliberate tale of political intrigue and maneuvering in ancient China, based on a classic wuxia text. Because The Assassin is a seeming contradiction: a slow cinema action film.
What does that mean? The vast majority of the movie is marked by an incredible and unnatural stillness. Scenes will last for five, ten minutes, with the characters mostly standing or sitting still, having political and palace intrigue conversations while we look on from a strange viewpoint. The tension is slowly rising throughout, until it becomes clear something is about to happen, at which point the screen erupts into movement. But almost as soon as it’s begun, it’s over, and we return to that stillness. The scene which most sticks in my mind is when we’re watching Tian Ji'an through gently wafting curtains, knowing that Yinniang must be nearby, as she was sent to kill him. It’s probably the best scene I’ve witnessed all year.
The movie is absolutely stunning from start to finish, and the frame so rich that you cannot be bored. What an incredible experience.
2. The Handmaiden (2016)
This film is one of the few that I adore which also get the respect they deserve. It appeared on many year-end top ten lists of its year, and a handful of best of the decade lists. It’s considered by many to be the best film by director Park Chan-wook, and one of the best South Korean movies period.
Of course, none of that guaranteed I would like it. But it prompted me to watch it a few years ago, knowing nothing but it’s reputation. And I was floored.
The story is at once a tense thriller and a passionate romance, a tale of deceit and power and sexism and classism. It is one of the most erotically charged films you’ll ever see, long before we get to any sex scenes. It makes use of some narrative techniques replicated in more recent popular movies, but does so far more successfully. Of course, this tale is as dark and disturbing as you’d expect from director Park, but gets there a bit more slowly. And more important, as is often the case, it’s not without purpose. Additionally, he fills out the world with some wonderfully subtle bits of storytelling that will enhance the experience if you catch them without ruining it if you don’t.
All the while, this is one of the most stunningly beautiful films you’ll ever see. It’s shot by Jeong Jeong-hun, whom director Park has been working with since Oldboy, and their comfort with each other’s styles shows.
1. Synecdoche, New York (2008)
Where to begin?
This will not be a movie for everybody. It is a sprawling, opaque, bitter, depressing, surreal, abstract, generally pretentious film. It possesses a bizarre and dark sense of humor, and many moments which will cause you to laugh at the same time despair begins to take hold. It’s a bleak meditation on life, which offers no direct answers, only cutting observations.
Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut is one of the most towering works of American cinema in the 21st century thus far. Most fundamentally, it’s about identity and sense of self and finding your place within a cold, indifferent world. It’s about the desire to rehearse real life, to find connection, and the type of crushing loneliness that can only exist when you’re surrounded by others, steps away from those you truly care about. It’s about a man who is consumed by fear and anxiety and uncertainty constructing a world where he can safely explore his own life, and finding that adding more fidelity to the simulacrum just exposes his failures in new ways, driving him deeper into himself.
Synecdoche, New York is a philosophical exploration rendered to the screen, and it draws you deeper and deeper into itself the more you watch and think about it. I’ll admit, I understood just about none of it on my first viewing fifteen-ish years ago. But it was so clearly a visionary work that its power came through anyways. I understood it was operating at a level I was just failing to understand. That experience is foundational to my conviction that even if you don’t understand it, you can tell apart incompetence from an opaque work of art. So even if you don’t think you’ll “get” it, there’s a high chance you’ll be unable to resist the fascination of what is happening on screen.
To say nothing of the excellent small performances in the film, all orbiting around the late great Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
Kaufman had already been a favorite writer of mine, but this film launched him into the stratosphere. He set the bar unimaginably high, and few have come close to reaching it again, not even himself.