I've talked about how this is my favourite horror movie of the decade, and.... yeah. S. Craig Zahler's Bone Tomahawk is scary, but from its bleakness and terror, something really special emerges. Cowboys, cannibals, melancholy and the stark horror of what people can do to each other make this the decade's top frightener, but the funny thing about Bone Tomahawk is how little of it is actually scary. It's a slow moving, searing comment on hate, intolerance and violence, and that's the really scary stuff. It's a gnarled, dusty, bruised reflection on the deep rooted violence of the wild west, like deeply grim poetry. Not that it skimps on the gore, lest we forget one of the most deeply disgusting deaths in horror. It's Kurt Russell's meatiest role in.... maybe ever, battered and bearded and desperate to do the right thing. Easy viewing? Maybe not, but that's why it matters. It's brutal, and raw, tapping into the horror that exists in the hearts of men. It's such a viscerally shocking film, but what lingers is that reflection on hate and evil, and that's what's eerily beautiful about it. Easily my favourite horror of the decade, because when you strip away the cannibals and cowboys, what are you left with? A grimy, soul-shaking mirror that reflects back the ills of the world. Miserable, melancholic, mesmerising.
14. Holy Motors
I struggled to find a place for Holy Motors on this list. I mean.... what is it? This is one of the most deeply weird movies I've ever seen. The way I see it, there are no wrong answers here. Holy Motors is about cinema, and whatever you make of it is what it means. It's like great performance art, with Leos Carax and Denis Lavant putting their art on display in a form that's so pure and so thrilling and so affecting, and it has to be the one of the most unfiltered pieces of cinema I've ever seen. There is no plot, no structure and no limits. Lavant's Monsieur Oscar is a figureless being, and watching him transform into so many different personas is an absolute thrill. An old beggar, a giant CGI snake, a sewer-dwelling beast, a terminally ill old man, and.... himself are just some of the shapes he takes, and seeing these different facets of one man portrayed in a way that only Carax can, and the fact that this film is his, a piece of art that he and he alone could have created is just so wonderful. Especially when you look into the production, how long it took Carax to make it and what it meant for him. Holy Motors is an utterly singular piece of surrealism, so unlike anything else but also filled with a rawness, a real sense of human creation that, mad as it gets (wait until you see the chimps), remains so utterly familiar. I've always thought that the weirder something is, the more likely it is to be moving, and by catching his audience off guard, Carax is able to let him and his unique relationship with cinema burst off of the screen in a way that's as rich as it is luridly entertaining. TROIS, DEUZE, MERDE!
13. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
I'm not quite sure when it became cool to hate Three Billboards, but, needless to say, I very much disagree. Martin McDonagh's third film is his best so far; a mournful, scornful gut punch of a meditation on grief, justice and anger that stings with righteous Southern-fried fury. This is an outsider's view of this side of life, but it's that perspective that lends the film its gravitas. It asks tough questions without claiming to have all of the answers, and if the leads may initially seem to only bring awards-season bluster, they quickly prove to be the most formidable triad of principal players of the last ten years. Woody Harrelson brings patience and calm and Sam Rockwell is equal parts stupidity and bigotry, but the core of the film is undoubtedly Frances McDormand, full of bitter rage and jaded compassion as a broken mother carrying out one last scathing cry for justice. Oscar lauded, and rightfully so, Three Billboards' cast embody their characters, and watching as this piece of brutal, deeply moving theatre plays out onscreen is an absolute blast. It's definitely McDonagh's best script, with all of the black humour and blistering sorrow of In Bruges with a razor sharp, strikingly relevant edge. Nuanced, thrilling and quietly devastating, Three Billboards is without a doubt one of my favourites this decade, and no sudden reversal of praise can take that away
12. Inside Out
Trust Pixar to deliver the best animated film of the decade. Inside Out draws from a cracking premise, but the joy of this movie is seeing it visualised. This is without a doubt one of the most creative, intelligent, and utterly joyful portrayals of the human brain I've ever seen. So many jokes, so many wonderfully realised details, so much going on, it's just such an intricate film, and it really feels like it covers everything (that joke about abstract thought will never not be brilliant). True, maybe this hasn't been Pixar's best decade (if Toy Stories 3 and 4 and Coco were reliably strong, then Brave and the endless parade of sequels and prequels were merely fine at best), but with Inside Out, its apparent that the studio are still capable of churning out animated miracles. If all that sounds a bit stuffy, then it can't be overstated just how fun this film is. Bouncy, bright and packing some really likeable characters, this film is a treat for audiences of any age, boasting a cracking message about appreciating good and bad memories in equal measure to boot. The film's greatest virtue though, is its level of understanding. It discusses what it means to grow up and develop, without judgement and with a level of wisdom that never feels patronising or pretentious. It is, simply put, an absolute joy, and one of the best films that Pixar's put out bar none
11. What We Do in the Shadows
If Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement's 2014 vampire mockumentary is not the most cinematically nuanced, thematically rich films of the decade, well then it really doesn't have to be. This is one of the greatest arguments for the power of silliness ever, and it's that refreshingly ridiculous approach that makes it work so well. It's not laughing at anything, and any mean-spiritedness or sly cynicism is instead replaced with a gleefully silly, soaringly light hearted tonic. This film is a delightfully off-kilter escape from an increasingly turbulent world, and becomes a comedy that really savours the power of laughter, pure laughter that isn't at the expense of anyone or even necessarily about anything, but is just good natured, and funny, and delightfully simple. The jokes here are perfect, with everything from an aggressive (but not profane) encounter with some werewolves and a painfully awkward kill to the experiences of a newly turned vampire and the eye-opening discovery of the internet providing some serious belly laughs. As comedy goes, What We Do in the Shadows is just perfect constructed, so pure in its silliness and devoted to its concept that its kind of hard not to love, something that no Waititi film since has been able to match in terms of its simple glee
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