So, it's that time again. The time when we look back on the year gone by, and 2018 was quite the year for cinema. At the time of writing this, I have seen 74 movies that came out in 2018, and so many of them were good. Narrowing it down to ten was really tough, especially because so many of the good films this year have been so different from each other. So, let's finish a year of mad titans, moon landings and megs in style, with my favourite films of 2018!
A few things before we get started. I didn't get around to seeing everything I wanted to this year. So Widows, Suspiria, Faces Places, The Endless, Ghost Stories, Love Simon, The Old Man and the Gun, Wildlife, Shoplifters, Cold War, Overlord, Unsane and Cam all got away from me before the year's end. I'll definitely catch them when I can, and maybe talk about them when I do, but just in case you were wondering why they didn't make the cut, that's why.
Also, this is going on Irish release, so there's a lot that won't be on this list because it hasn't come out here yet. So The Favourite, Vice, If Beale Street Could Talk, Burning, Eighth Grade, Can You Ever Forgive Me?, Mid90s and Mary Queen of Scots won't actually be on this list. That also means that some films I talked about in my 2017 list will also be on this list, which I know is kind of weird, but just think of the write up there as a review of the film, and the write up here as an entry on the list. In the end, I just couldn't leave those movies out, so just keep that in mind when they turn up
Finally, let's have some honourable mentions. It's been a great year, and so many films just about missed the cut.
Bad Times at the El Royale
One of the most fun films that came out this year. Smart, sharp, twisty, genre savvy and genuinely unpredictable, it had me on the edge of my seat the whole time. Drew Goddard followed up Cabin in the Woods with this really cool thriller, and I just loved it
Incredibles 2
I actually think this is better than the first one. It's punchy, dynamic, incredibly (ha) entertaining from first minute to last, and was just an absolute blast to watch. It's Pixar firing on all cylinders to produce another solid entry in their ridiculously impressive canon
Private Life
2018 was a great year for drama, and the movies were pretty good too. Private Life is a wonderfully intimate look at one couple's infertility, and if that sounds like a strange topic, it's treated with such sensitivity and warmth that you get sucked in in the first few minutes. This is a film that hits hard with quiet moments, and Kathryn Hahn and Paul Giamatti's, lived in, authentic chemistry is awesome
American Animals
A great heist/documentary movie that looks at actions and consequences in the most gut wrenching way. This was one of the most interesting films of the year, effortlessly flipping from entertaining to devastating, and that heist scene is just unbelievable. A unique and bold gut punch of a movie
Game Night
This movie is hysterical. Probably the surprise of the year. Game Night got me laughing early on, and kept me laughing throughout. They really don't make studio comedies like this one, and it's just ridiculous amounts of fun. If you haven't seen it, you're in for a treat. One of 2018's funniest gems
A Futile and Stupid Gesture
So, in my review of this, I said it set the bar high for 2018. And the fact that it didn't make the top 10 should be an indication of how great of a year this was. This film is still the perfect balance of melancholy and silliness, and it's an awesome practical joke on the people watching it. It's a biopic unlike any other
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
This was the Coen Brothers on fine form, six unusual but consistently entertaining tales of the old west, with each one being an indication of just how versatile these guys are. All Gold Canyon and The Gal Who Got Rattled are especially fantastic, but every short is solid. Proof that the Coens aren't going away any time soon
And now, my top 10 movies of 2018!
10. Blindspotting
2018 was great year for indie films that came right out of nowhere, and Blindspotting was easily one of the best. This is a raw film, one that takes ideas that are relevant and often difficult to discuss, and presents them with with fluency and sensitivity, resulting in a story that's not just urgent, but also deeply human. It focuses mainly on two guys, but it never loses sight of the bigger issues that affect the society they live in. Gentrification, racism, police brutality and trauma are all discussed with gravity, maturity and sensitivity, and the film never pulls any punches when it does this. It never downplays the weight of these issues, but it's always a slick, flowing watch that's just electric.
Blindspotting starts with a vegan burger and, after a breathless journey of highs and lows, concludes with a stunning, politically charged rap that sees the rage of a nation spil over in a beautiful, terrifying expression of fear and injustice. The leads have a lived in chemistry, and the way that life in this neighborhood is framed is just fantastic. It's a stylised, often unusual journey that's both highly enjoyable and utterly horrifying. Blindspotting is just incredible. It's a blend of tones and ideas that demands your attention, and was easily one of the strongest pieces of social commentary I've seen in a long time
9. A Quiet Place
Blockbuster fatigue found the perfect antidote with this movie, a science fiction horror romp that saw John Krasinski shed his Office reputation and make the freshest big budget film for some time. And yeah, I know not everyone liked it as much as I did, especially not compared to that other horror movie about a family we got in 2018, but that's fine. A Quiet Place took a deceptively simple idea and really found the terror in it, launching high concept horror back into the mainstream in the process. It had pin-drop tension, masterful setups, and a cast of characters that I genuinely found myself invested in from the start, something that unfortunately didn't happen in Hereditary.
It doesn't waste time explaining everything, instead keeping all storytelling visual, and honestly, that really works here. It replaces dialogue with universal imagery, which allows Krasinski to focus on the simple yet immense tension. By starting with an almost wordless tragedy, he ensures that we know the stakes from the beginning, and so every action in this film feels like it has a legitimate consequence, resulting in an immediate thrill that I feel is kind of lacking from a lot of big budget horror movies. Sometimes, less really is more
8. Sorry to Bother You
2018 was a year of awesome directorial debuts, from Bradley Cooper to Idris Elba, but it was the utterly bonkers beginning to Boots Riley's career that bursts its way onto the list. This movie is absolutely crazy. It starts off as an odd piece of satire, before spiralling into a wild bonanza of corporate mockery. Admittedly, it's not gonna be for everyone, but that insane, piercing surrealism is something that really appeals to me. This is a busy movie, with so much going on, but it's able to stay coherent, even when it goes absolutely mental. Even if the satire is kind of broad, the film is loud and brash enough to still make a serious impact.
This is a film about making statements. From cruel performance art to twisted game shows, people go through some serious shit (sometimes literally) to get their voices heard, and one of the film's big questions is how far people are willing to go to spread a message, which it just does exquisitely. It's a loud, impressive exploration of social and political turbulence, while at the same time being one of the funniest movies of the year. And the jokes here succeed in being both gut bustingly hilarious and deeply provocative. Sorry to Bother You is a frenzied roller coaster of a movie, one that stays fun even as it descends into corporate horror
7. You Were Never Really Here
Violence is something that's often glorified in movies, which is one reason that Lynne Ramsey's bare bones vigilance thriller works so well. It rejects the notion that violence is something to be celebrated, instead finding a simple, bleak horror in acts of brutality. Very little is actually shown to the audience in You Were Never Really Here, because this is a film with little interest in the violence itself. Instead, the meat of the film lies in Joaquin Phoenix's Joe, and his deep psychological scars. With very few words, Phoenix and Ramsey weave a tale of trauma and damage that devastates just as much as it thrills.
It's not an easy watch, but it's a slow, lingering gut punch of a movie that's guaranteed to stay in the memory for a while. There's a quiet devastation in how this film plays out. It's not just a brutal watch, but a deeply haunting psychological study of a broken man, perfectly performed by Joaquin Phoenix and his quiet, muscular stoicism. This is an intense film, one that's impossible to pull your eyes away from. This is a film that transcends those inevitable Taxi Driver comparisons, matching Scorsese's masterwork with powerfully haunting brutality. And that has to stand for something
6. Blackkklansman
So Spike Lee came back this year in a big way, bouncing back from a string of recent disappointments with a state of the nation work of horror that explodes with the rage of a million Mookies. Blackkklansman is a work of rage. It's a film that demands that America look at its own political turbulence, using it's period setting to deliver a sobering message: nothing has changed. Blackkklansman isn't a stunner just because of its political commentary. It's one of the year's best because it sees a master of provocation at the top of his game for the first time in ages. It's a reminder that subtlety can only take you so far, and nobody does that better than Spike Lee
Because in a time when everyone has such strong opinions on everything, social comments like this need to be loud. They need to shout everything that's wrong with society into its face, and this movie definitely does. It's a jaw dropping wake up call of a film that just hits so hard. It's also hilarious, delivering some if the most scathing laughs of the year that tear into society's shortcomings and try to hope that people learn from their mistakes. Films this loud only come once in a while. And it definitely pays to listen
5. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
Yes. I like it. Even now that the awards buzz has died down and everyone kind of turned against it. I still love this movie just as much as I did back in January. It's still a razor sharp tale of justice and rage, one that refuses to play anything simple, and has a kind of ragged compassion to it that Martin McDonagh's other stuff just doesn't. As I said when I reviewed it first, McDonagh asks some seriously tough questions, but he never pretends to have any of the answers. Nobody in it is actually right, not all of the time anyway, and the characters trade expressions of grief and rage that all too often threaten to explode into hate and violence. But McDonagh never quite crosses that line. He never makes this a movie about hate. Even Mildred is allowed to be wrong here. And speaking of, those performances. A guilty, enraged and sympathetic Frances McDormand. A vindictive and lunkheaded Sam Rockwell. A beleaguered but determined Woody Harrelson. These three leads are nothing short of stunning, spitting fire in the form of McDonagh's best script; acidic and darkly funny, but tinged with a deep sadness and regret. For all of its grit and bravado, Three Billboards is a movie about grief, and guilt, and the possibility of redemption. Simply put, it's McDonagh's best film, compassionate, poignant and scathingly funny. Even time and hate can't quite extinguish the fire that McDonagh lit at the start of this year. And I say let it burn
4. Phantom Thread
PT Anderson is a true treasure. From porn to pudding, oil empires to falling frogs, and every cult and detective in between, this guy is one of the masters of modern cinema, and his latest is a work of true beauty. Phantom Thread is hauntingly brilliant, a dark love story that drifts along with an almost otherworldly feel, and an exquisite swansong for Daniel Day Lewis, who is just fantastic as Reynolds Woodcock, an ultra specific tailor who finds his very controlled world twisted and distorted by the strangest of forces: love. But like in Punch Drunk Love, this is love as a force of chaos, a strange power that brings equal amounts of beauty and instability. And there is a kind of otherworldliness to Phantom Thread, an eerie feeling of a world being tilted by strange forces, and the way that PTA brings theses forces to life is just beautiful. It's a film that often hinges on fantasy, and yet stays just about rooted in reality, unafraid to let the extraordinary leak in
And the strange, nearly supernatural quality extends to the performances. Daniel Day Lewis is sublime as Woodcock, haunted by his mother's death and challenged by the arrival of love, a force that's out of his control. Day Lewis brings a real edge to the role in the way that only he can, balancing quiet passion with an inflexible dedication to order, and it's truly fascinating to watch him unravel as the plot progresses. Vicky Krieps is equally fantastic as Alma, whose arrival brings with it beautiful chaos. She becomes Reynolds' muse, but also his rival, and the way that their relationship is explored, especially near the end, is pitch perfect. Offsetting these two is the incredible Leslie Manville, playing Reynolds' sister Cyril, an absolute force of nature who provides a point of contrast to Alma; Cyril seeks to maintain Reynolds' sense of order as Alma gradually starts to shift it. The result is screen magic, a darkly funny story of the instability of love that just about flirts with the magical. For Daniel Day Lewis, it was one hell of a note to go out on
3. Leave No Trace
Probably the most minimalist film on this list, Leave No Trace is bare bones cinema, no big moments, flashy effects, or even much of a plot. And yet it's utterly incredible. Essentially it's the story of a father and daughter living off the grid, constantly moving from place to place, who have to negotiate accomodation after being found in a public park. And that's kind of it. The drama here reveals itself in quiet ways, in gestures and looks rather than dialogue. The film is great at leaving the most important things unsaid, at communicating through the storytelling cues that lie in the behaviour of the characters. The reason that they can't settle down is utterly heartbreaking, yet it's never something that the film makes a big deal out of. Because it doesn't have to. Debra Granik is someone who understands the value of organic cinema, and she allows the situations to tell the story, essentially just letting the lives of these characters to play out on screen. The result is something that doesn't even feel like a film, so natural and realistic in its approach to some really heavy subject matter that it becomes one of the year's most important movies, a story of people who are unable to adjust to modern society through no fault of their own.
This is something that's amplified by two incredible lead performances. Ben Foster is superb as a man haunted by trauma, and unable to stay in one place for too long. But it's Thomasin McKenzie who steals the movie, giving one of the best performances of the year, a completely organic portrayal of someone who's lived their whole life off-grid. She creates this really quiet sympathy through small gestures and dialogue that doesn't even feel like it was written. Like the rest of the film, the brilliance of her performance lies in what remains unsaid, and it's her that carries the movie to it's understated, gut wrenching ending. Leave No Trace is absolutely stunning. It replaces massive outpourings of emotion with a series of quiet communications that are so damn effective. Nothing is told to the audience in this film, with most of the story lying in the realities of the situation these characters are in. In a summer of grand blockbusters, it was Leave No Trace that really impressed. A minimalist treat that's not to be missed
2. Roma
One of the best things a movie can do for me is take me to unfamiliar times and places. I'm always looking to broaden my horizons as a movie fan, and so I really cherish stories that can take me out of that zone of familiarity. There's nothing in Roma that I can identify with. The setting, the time period, the characters, none of it is familiar to me. And yet Alfonso Cuaron is so good at telling such a personal story in a way that's just so universal. For such an intimate film, Roma really does feel epic. It's a small story against a huge backdrop; a Mexico that's rapidly changing and shifting. It's not a political film by any means, but Cuaron excels at keeping the viewer aware of what's going on. The sense of time and place in Roma is so strong, but it always feels like part of the atmosphere. It's peripheral, but it's always apparent, and the fantastic bookended shots of planes do a great job at implying something beyond the film's scope. And that sense of hope is all over Roma. Cleo always seems to be looking forward. Even when her life and the country she lives in are in uncertain circumstances, she stays optimistic. And through Yalitza Aparicio's monumental performance, we're guided through her world.
And there are so many individual moments here that are just incredible. Cuaron is so good at getting the audience invested in the small moments, so when he ups the scale in the hospital and ocean scenes, it's heart in mouth stuff. That hospital scene in particular is just devastating. Like Leave No Trace, Roma says so much without really saying anything at all. And again, it doesn't feel like a film. For the most part, it just feels like watching a family, with most of the plot playing out in the background. But I think the most impressive thing about Roma is how utterly timeless it feels. Even though it is set in a very specific time period, Roma is a story that anyone can watch and understand, and it has a real power that I don't see diminishing any time soon. Roma is a true cinematic event; a achingly human study of life that demands to be seen.
1. The Shape of Water
I suppose one reason I chose to include the movies I talked about before is that time has passed. Bear in mind, I talked about this one before it won the Oscar, and having seen it two more times now, I'm fairly confident in saying that this film is a masterpiece. The Shape of Water is Guillermo del Toro's best in ages. I was ecstatic when it won best picture, because it's really something stunning. To see the Academy recognise a film like this is truly something special. And yet, even the prestige and the attention can't diminish the simple, often very quiet passion that's all over this film. What makes the movie special is the intimacy of it all, the way that it puts the viewer in Eliza's world, letting them feel everything she feels. As a result, the peril feels more real but the romance is even sweeter. The way del Toro presents love as an escape from an uncaring society is deft and effective. The prejudice is strong but love is stronger, and the fairy tale values of del Toro's best work is on full display. The result is a film that's singular in its romantic vision, but all the more potent because of it. I love everything about this movie. It's a labour of love from one of cinema's most passionate masters, a blend of classic cinema and modern values that pulses with a love that's almost too strong to put into words. This film is an absolute masterpiece, and it's my favourite film of 2018
