My Favorite Films of 2016

Awards season is upon us. As such, I've assembled my annual list of top films of the past year. These are films that represent a perfect storm of exquisite writing, nuanced acting, strong directing, thoughtful cinematography, and purposeful editing. Have you seen them? What are your thoughts? Leave a comment and let me know!

In no particular order:

CAPTAIN FANTASTIC

Written and Directed by Matt Ross

Viggo Mortensen's turn as Ben, a bereaved father of six with the unorthodox plot goal of interfering with a funeral, shines as an imaginative take on how to be a better parent. Every child is a unique personality (of special note is the conflicted eldest - George MacKay as Bo) and the viewer spends enough time with each to fall in love with the entire family. Just the right amount of silly, heartfelt, and believable, Fantastic is the year's strongest meditation on parenthood, its responsibilities, its joys, and its ability to bring out the best - and worst - in parents, grandparents, and children. Every scene not only reveals more about character but simultaneously lays bare the glue that holds the family together as well as the inevitable cracks that grow into schisms. While being a better father might be the biggest challenge of Ben's life, the viewer roots for him the entire ride.


HELL OR HIGH WATER

Directed by David Mackenzie
Written by Taylor Sheridan

Terrifying in its portrayal of utter desperation yet chock full of enough courage to sink a rusty pickup under the rapids of the Colorado River, High Water is about brotherhood - both between Tanner and Toby Howard (Ben Foster and Chris Pine) as well as their relentless pursuers, Texas Ranger Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) and Deputy Alberto Parker (Gil Birmingham). When hard financial truths force the Howards to rob the very banks that mean to foreclose on the family farm, we're all too glad to cheer for the outlaws. But the beauty of the film lies in its shades of grey: we're rooting for both sides because they're both on the losing end of a larger war. But while one side is ultimately content to accept their place in the machinery of the state, the other is an upstart that can claim, at best, a pyrrhic victory. No spoils come for free, and every player in this film has to pay up.


MOONLIGHT

Written and Directed by Barry Jenkins

Heartbreaking, horrifying, and ultimately redemptive, Moonlight is a tense, introspective, and thoughtful meditation on growing up impoverished, Black, and gay. Every performance shines bright to the point of blinding the viewer to the fact that they're watching a film at all. A film in three parts, we seamlessly follow Chiron from boyhood (Alex Hibbert), adolescence (Ashton Sanders), and adulthood (Trevante Rhodes) as he navigates an external world including a warm but self-contradictory mentor (a charismatic Mahershala Ali), a tormented and tormenting mother (an astonishing Naomie Harris) a bevy of school bullies, and an internal struggle between "being the man," "looking tough," and love itself. What does it mean to be a man? Are we defined by how the world sees us or who we secretly are within? The film captures well the loneliness of being a child - and indeed the fundamental aloneness of existing in the first place.



ZOOTOPIA

Directed by Byron Howard, Rich Moore, and Jared Bush
Written by Jared Bush and Phil Johnston

The filmmakers behind Zootopia didn't just create an engaging, lovable protagonist in Officer Judy Hopps - they created an entire world. The first 10 minutes alone are a master class in establishing character, story, and stakes. Engrossing from start to finish, Zootopia is about tolerance, the dangers of ignorance, and the nuances of law and order, but at its heart it remains true to the hopes and desires of its clever main character. Judy wants to make the world a better place but must learn that she herself - as well as those around her - can only be at their best when they rise above their animal instincts and listen to each other. For in doing so, the world truly becomes better.



ARRIVAL

Directed by Denis Villeneuve
Written by Eric Heisserer

Based on a short story by Ted Chiang, the story of how the film was adapted and made is almost worthy of a film in and of itself. At first glance it'a a story about visiting aliens but at its core it remains a tale about an impossible choice and the cyclical nature of existence. A stunning Amy Adams (in the best role of her career) as linguist Dr. Louise Banks is the key to deciphering the intents of our enigmatic otherworldly visitors... but is there something more at stake? Do we need their help or do they need ours? And what will it take to make the international community cooperate on anything? Does every opportunity come again? And if you know what's coming, would you do anything differently? Questions for the philosophers, yes, but somehow cobbled into a film with a strong story and stronger characters. Just the right amounts of mystery are dripped to the audience and we're left with a strong sense of accomplishment by the journey's end.



KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS

Directed by Travis Knight
Written by Marc Haimes and Chris Butler

Exhaustively and meticulously conceptualized, written, and stop-motion animated over a period of five years, Kubo is that rarest of animals: an original fantasy story with global appeal. While Matthew McConaughey as a samurai might be cringeworthy, the clear writing, integrated storytelling, and astonishing visuals (in service to the story) more than make up for it. Kubo is a yarn (pun intended) about a young man's journey to be the good man his parents wanted him to be while avoiding the temptations of an inhuman immortality. Effectively funny and honest in its emotional portrayals, Kubo is a dark tale that enraptures the viewer among its simple, cleverly-written plot threads and unique, memorable characters. If we are who we've been, Kubo is a story that proves that we can be who we want to be.


Honorable Mentions:

Fences
Directed by Denzel Washington off of a screenplay by playwright August Wilson (based on his play by the same name), this film contains, on a whole, the best acting performances of the year. Viola Davis especially, as Rose Maxson, exceeds every high bar in her turn as a mother to a frustrated son and wife to a frustrating husband. This was clearly a labor of love for Denzel Washington, who turns in yet another career-defining performance as Troy Maxson, a middle-aged garbageman who missed integration in the major leagues (and a likely turn as a baseball great) by only that much. Every personality shines through and the subtext is thick. Every character is clearly defined and has an opportunity to be a viewer's favorite. However, like Doubt before it, this film reminds the viewer that it began as a stage play, and its scenes are dialogue heavy and can drag. Regardless, every actor turns in their A-game and the film unspools as an organic, character driven story.

Manchester by the Sea
Written and directed by Kenneth Lonergan, Manchester is possibly the year's biggest gut punch. Devastating in its portrayal of a young father with nothing left to lose, Casey Affleck turns in a wrenching performance as Lee Chandler, who is tasked with raising his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges) after the unexpected death of Lee's brother Joe (played by Kyle Chandler). A formidable and relatable meditation on loss, Manchester is perhaps the year's most stirring reminder that when there's life, there's hope. The film's ending, while abrupt, gives just the right amount of light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Hidden Figures
As topical today as it was when it actually happened, Hidden Figures reminds us of progress made and work still to be done. Directed by Theodore Melfi and written by Allison Schroeder and Theodore Melfi off of a book by Margot Lee Shetterly, Figures is both comic and thoughtful in its treatment of Katherine G. Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson (respectively and expertly played by Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monáe), three African-American mathematicians who were integral members of the team that launched John Glen into space. Their frustrations and mistreatment is tangible at every turn - not just without - but within as well.

Awards season is arguably the most wonderful time of the year for film buffs. How many of these have you seen? Thoughts?

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Jared teaches screenwriting in the Lehigh Valley. He has also taught at Emerson College and Salem State University. His creative work has appeared on MTV Networks, in the Tribeca Film Festival, and the Austin Film Festival. He offers screenplay coverage at www.screenplay.guru.

Well Met By Moonlight

Barry Jenkins's Moonlight is a stunner. Presented in three parts, the film follows the coming-of-age of Chiron (played respectively at age nine, adolescence, and adulthood by Alex R. Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and Trevante Rhodes - frictionless performances by all three) as he navigates a broken home, school bullying, and the stigma against his homosexuality. The story presents a simple, clear transition as he emerges as a leader with a single true desire that keeps the viewer mesmerized from start to finish. The final third of the film slows down a bit and could present us with more information about the man Chiron has become. However, as the first two parts of the film are kinetic masterpieces, it's a welcome break in the pacing and it reflects Chiron becoming someone who can finally live life not at the mercy of others but on his own measured terms. It feels earned.

When we first meet young Chiron (nicknamed "Little"), it's evident that there's something special about him. He's precocious, understands that there's something wrong with his living situation (his mother, Paula, is a neglectful, emotionally abusive addict - a terrific performance by Naomie Harris), and that he's well aware of his attraction to other boys. He forges a compelling relationship with local drug dealer Juan (a warm and charismatic Mahershala Ali) who connects to Chiron's awful home life in an organic and unexpected way. We see in Juan the man that indirectly perpetuates Chiron's living situation but also, ironically, the free man Chiron wants to become - free from his greedy mother, his ferocious classmates, and ultimately from shame.

Shame is a pervasive theme in Moonlight. Whether it's Juan the dealer, Paula the negligent mother, Kevin the best friend with a secret, or even Chiron himself, redemption is the film's rallying cry. Everyone has a secret, everyone builds walls, and everyone eventually lets someone in - for good or ill. When adolescent Chiron comes out to Kevin (thoughtfully and introspectively played at different ages by Jaden Piner, Jharrel Jerome, and André Holland), it's a beautiful moment of liberation. James Laxton's cinematography shines in such a way as to make the moment as magical to us as if we had lived it, ourselves.

Each of the film's three parts is named after an aspect of Chiron, a name. Color imagery is pervasive. Juan's nickname is "Blue" and Chiron's later given the nickname "Black." Juan teaches Chiron that being honest with who you are is a full-time job but is also the surest path to achieving your desire even if your desire seems well out of reach. It's an honest lesson and organically shown, especially in a film that could (but never does) call upon stereotypes to carry the story.

Colors of light, colors of love.

Chiron's transition into adulthood is turbulent but clear. As an adult, he barely resembles the tiny, frightened child he used to be. As such, he could have been shown to be a more active character. When a certain figure from his past contacts him and initiates the film's final sequence, it might have been more effective if Chiron himself had been the one to reach out and connect, even as a tentative step. After all, this is the story of a young man changing from passive to active, and his chief motivating desire has never left him. Further, as nearly every story thread in the film had a coda, it might have been a strong choice to have seen a final story beat involving Terrel (Patrick Decile), adolescent Chiron's chief antagonist. Their final scene together was one of the most satisfying and horrifying moments in film over the past year, and as it set the stage for the remainder of the story, the story might have done well to include a final reckoning between the two as adults.

The film's music by Nicholas Britell is soft, subtle, and effective. I like to think of music as the language in which the characters think - a way to externalize the internal for the benefit of the audience. The music reinforces suspense and the soundtrack (including tunes by Mozart and Aretha Franklin) clearly exhibits a thoughtful selection on Jenkins's part.

Moonlight is one of the best films of the year. It is hard to watch, heartbreaking, and ultimately liberating. Chiron will earn your love and respect at the same time that he earns his own. Moonlight challenges Chiron - and the viewer - to shine compassion into our darkest places. When we let others in, even moonlight itself can blaze bright.

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Jared teaches screenwriting in the Lehigh Valley. He has also taught at Emerson College and Salem State University. His creative work has appeared on MTV Networks, in the Tribeca Film Festival, and the Austin Film Festival. He offers screenplay coverage at www.screenplay.guru.

The Lay of the La La Land

Damien Chazelle's La La Land is two different films. Its first half is a pure, safe homage to the grand Hollywood musicals of yesteryear (Singin' in the Rain, Hello, Dolly!). It' s a film you've seen before and if you liked that film, you won't be disappointed. Mia (the as-usual pitch-perfect Emma Stone - someone give her an Oscar already) moves to Hollywood with a dream to be an actress. A few (rather contrived) coincidences later, she connects to charming jazz musician Sebastian (a Ryan Gosling with solid comic timing), who hopes to open his own music club. They dance (in a literal and prolonged sense) into each other's hearts as they power forward to realize their aspirations. As mentioned, you've seen the first half of this film already and as such it plods. Its long takes are breathtaking at first but tend to wear on one's patience (how many wide shots of people dancing until it ceases to be a novelty? Not many).

Its second half is a different film entirely and likely worth the wait. The evolution of Mia and Sebastian's relationship waltzes from a string of song-and-dance numbers (it occasionally sticks a noncommittal toe into fanciful Moulin Rouge territory without Moulin Rouge's imagination) into an honest assessment of weighing one's dreams against love. The film's true pivot point (and likely its strongest scene) is a dinner at their apartment that presents in painful detail the fault lines in their romantic trajectory. For the first time in over an hour, these two stop being hopeful-actress and dreamy-jazz-musician stereotypes and become actual flesh-and-blood characters. And thankfully, the remainder of the film reinforces the two as complex people with deep psychologies. But an hour's a long time to wait to establish the characters as such in the narrative.

The emotional simmer erupts in a heartbreaking, effective (if long) final montage of what-ifs reminiscent of the parallel life storyline of Peter Howitt's Sliding Doors. Oddly enough, it also calls back to Ang Lee's Life of Pi in so much that it delves into the nature of not just the story we just experienced but the nature of storytelling in and of itself. Life of Pi asked us, "What story do you prefer?" but both narratives in La La Land strengthen the truth that both chasing a dream - and giving up on one - comes with costs.

Jazz and blues.

The film's songs (composed by Justin Hurwitz) are cleverly conceived, but City of Stars is its true breakout. A melancholy love letter to dreams and their dreamers, it'll play in your head long after the end credits roll. John Legend's Start a Fire is a show-stopping electronica take on jazz (written into the narrative to introduce a younger generation to the "dying" genre) that might make purists cringe but guaranteed it'll otherwise make your foot tap along with it. Gosling and Stone have genuine (if untrained) voices that indicate the actors' deep connection to why they sing what they sing.

There are some contrivances that challenge an audience's suspension of disbelief too much (Sebastian has an unexpected obligation and has to skip seeing Mia - so he can't text/call her ahead of time to let her know?) and a lot of the dialogue is devoid of subtext (i.e., lines are on-the-nose without any dimensionality to what is said versus what is meant). However, the film shines brightest in its moments of melancholy of which there are many. There's a thread of sadness and endings that runs throughout the piece and La La Land is at its best when said thread blossoms into character action.

Perhaps the film's first half may have done better to exhibit more internal conflict - how the entire lives of Mia and Sebastian might have been tugs-of-war between love and dreams and how their decisions on that front landed them squarely in each other's paths. In any event, there's probably something for everyone to like in La La Land although it may not be everything for everyone at every moment. Rather like dreams, themselves.

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Jared teaches screenwriting in the Lehigh Valley. He has also taught at Emerson College and Salem State University. His creative work has appeared on MTV Networks, in the Tribeca Film Festival, and the Austin Film Festival. He offers screenplay coverage at www.screenplay.guru.

The Rogue Side of History

Rogue One is the tale of how the first Death Star’s plans were stolen and delivered to Princess Leia. Have you been hoping to finally find out how many bothans died to secure this precious information? Hope on, as bothan spies were used to steal the plans for the second Death Star, space ace.

The film has an impressive cast in top form. Of particular note are Felicity Jones’s conflicted Jyn Erso (our protagonist), Forest Whitaker's grizzled warrior Saw Gerrera, Donnie Yen's spiritual badass Chirrut Imwee, Jiang Wen’s guns-blazing badass Baze Malbus, Ben Mendelsohn's villainous Orson Krennic, and Alan Tudyk’s voice-over work for the film’s exquisite comic relief, the droid K-2SO. It’s an ensemble piece and while each character is interesting from the moment we first see them, the sheer number of them prevents any real connection to their individual plights, much less learn why they join the rebellion in the first place. At one point, pilot Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) presses Jyn, “You think you’re the only one who’s lost something?” but the film never delivers on this clear set-up. But this is not a parallel case to the trip-ups of the prequel trilogy. Overall, Rogue One’s acting and dialogue fit the bill for its story of the beleaguered rebellion.

And it is indeed a desperate rebellion. The film’s underlying strength is its establishment of a world with a real sense for how eleventh-hour the situation is for the alliance. Throughout, a series of decisions at the individual level often mean the difference between a slim rebellion victory or utter annihilation. Suspense increases in every scene and we’re constantly reminded of the stakes as well as the ever-thinning thread on which the alliance hangs.

The real standout performance belongs to an actor deceased for over 20 years. The CGI return of Peter Cushing’s Governor Tarkin (created with the permission of his estate and with actor Guy Henry as a stand-in) marks a standard in cinema visual effects on the level of Jurassic Park’s dinosaurs (incidentally both made by Industrial Light and Magic). This is an astonishing and nearly seamless leap forward in the capabilities of computer-assisted storytelling. While the technology’s promise is tremendous (have a wish list of deceased actors to cast in your film and a huge pile of money? Poof! Cinematic resurrection!), the danger exists to overuse it to the point of it becoming showy for its own sake - the very sarlacc pit that befouled the prequels.

"Who used red Sharpie? My board clearly says 'Dry erase only!'"

Thankfully, Darth Vader wears a mask and anyone of appropriate height and a tolerance for black latex can play him (but James Earl Jones? I hope you’re with us forever). When it comes to how and when the film presents the Sith lord, you’ll be thrilled. In finite screen time, he’s that very merciless, one-man legion of unstoppable fury that haunted your space opera nightmares - perhaps even more so. In Rogue One he’s more than just some dude in scary armor with a red lightsaber - he is the Dark Side incarnate.

The nods to diehard fans did not go unnoticed and were just the right amount of classy. Bring your Star Wars trivia friend along to live-annotate, otherwise the occasional gasps from those around you will indicate that certain characters’ brief appearances mean more than mere faces in the crowd. It was also a delight to see Jimmy Smits’s Bail Organa (don’t go back to Alderaan!) in what’s likely to be his sign-off appearance for the series. It was a smart tie-in to one of the prequels' stronger elements.

Ultimately the film falters is in its connection to a genuine human element - the characters are terrific at first glance but we never learn enough about them to understand them personally. Similar to Argo, this is more a film about the procedure and less about those who undertake it. More about the how, less about the who. The scales of laser battles, death, and destruction are off the charts, even by Star Wars standards. That alone isn’t damning, but we simply don’t learn enough about our ragtag band to care very much (much less be able to name all of them) by the conclusion. It’s a satisfying film, but we have a bit longer to wait for the next The Empire Strikes Back.

Deus Ex Moana

A very wet adventure that's well worth your time.

Disney's Moana is a beautiful watch and a terrific listen. This is Disney doing what Disney does best, and you're in for a treat. However, despite the explosively expressive songs by Opetaia Foa'i and Lin-Manuel Miranda, the mythic story by screenwriter Jared Bush and story gurus Ron Clements, John Musker, Chris Williams, Don Hall, Pamela Ribon, Aaron Kandell, and Jordan Kandell, and one of the best antihero characters of the current century (a glib, smooth-talking, pitch-perfect Dwayne Johnson as Maui), all is not sunshine and palm trees on the sparkling blue horizon.

The main story beats are paint-by-numbers and easy to follow. Moana's a young woman who dreams of more than her simple village life. A dark force from outside threatens all she holds dear, and soon she's in way over her head, having to return a sacred artifact to the goddess from whom it was stolen. The songs are well-placed and occasionally possess the rare distinction of advancing the plot in addition to externalizing the characters' inner voices and self-doubts. Voiced by newcomer Auli'i Cravalho, Moana's believable, strong, and lovable. We've also seen her exasperation with her hometown (home-island?) before in films such as Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid. UCLA's Hal Ackerman says, "A character who has to get something is more effective than a character who needs to give something." Moana herself is definitely in the latter category, and take from that what you will. Overall, she's relatable even though it would've been an unusual and perhaps more rewarding choice to see a character who was cut from a different cloth.

Where Moana really shines is with its secondary characters. Hei Hei is a dimwitted (and that's being extraordinarily kind) chicken who owns the lion's share of the film's laughs. Its stupidity is stark and hilarious, although it becomes a bit one-note after the first dozen times he smashes his face against something.

We needed way more of this guy.

Pua is an adorable pig who features in plenty of marketing materials even though he's barely in the film. When it comes to adorable pigs, I'm on the side of the fence that believes that films need more of them.

Finally, we're brought to Dwayne Johnson's Maui - the film's Han Solo. A scoundrel, a trickster, and an ultimately redeemable rapscallion. I'd sit through a film just about him. He's shockingly vulnerable and sensitive, making him a solid axis around which the film can rotate - to a point at which he overshadows Moana, herself. Maui alone is worth the price of admission and his transition might be the most sharply defined in the film as a whole.

My biggest gripe is with another secondary character who we're introduced to early on. The ocean is a character in the film. It moves, acts, and reacts - as in a bona fide character. It explicitly (if wordlessly) communicates with Moana while looking like the liquid spear visions from Donnie Darko or the water creature from The Abyss. While a clever motif at first, the ocean saves her life so often and points the way every several minutes and becomes such a huge help to Moana's quest that one must wonder why the ocean itself doesn't take the quest into its own hands and complete it on its own. It's a story that takes place on an ocean, yes. But perhaps more of the time dedicated to the ocean as a character would've been better spent focusing on the characters traversing it.

Further, at the point at which Moana doubts herself, her place in the world, and her quest, another supernatural helping of deus ex machina comes in to save the day and give her self-esteem a boost. She's a strong character - she'd have to be to sail out alone over open ocean - but when you have a character alone on a sailboat, there are only so many options for conflict and character development if you don't have Life of Pi's Richard Parker at the ready. And that's clear in this film.

Overall, Moana is a jewel, though not a flawless one. It's worth your time, and the songs will be in your head (and you'll like that a lot) long after you leave the theater.