The Top Ten Films of 2023

There were more than ten excellent films this past year. There may have been more than twenty. I am just glad I saw them all where they were meant to be seen: the theaters.

10. Godzilla Minus One (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)

Almost a coin flip divided this and Killers of the Flower Moon for the elusive last slot on this list. What gave this film the edge is how deftly it checks so many boxes where other Godzilla flicks have failed. It has been a frustrating few decades for this Godzilla fan (he was my favorite actor when I was five. Ask my mom.) Whether it was a Japanese original or a glossy Hollywood remake, each one was a tedious slog, complete with dull human characters bogarting screen time away from the eponymous creature in endless conference room scenes. This prequel evidently got the note. It presents human characters on the front line in WWII, fighting/fleeing for their lives (none more so than protagonist Ryunosuke Kamiki, a kamikaze pilot fighting his own cowardice.) Godzilla himself is an apt metaphor for the sheer force of war that literally wiped out one village after another. He also manifests the consequences of environmental irresponsibility. While past manifestations portrayed him as simply a victim of circumstances, this Godzilla is a malevolent, dangerous terror going out of his way to kill individual people. The on point special effects have made him the scariest he has ever been. He just might be my favorite actor again, mom.

Corny Tagline: This Godzilla is a perfect 101 minus 1. (Which is a hundred, the usual barometer for perfection, even though 101 seems higher.)

9. Saw X (dir. Kevin Greutert)

The Saw franchise is one of my guiltiest of pleasures. Its prolific output in the mid aughts yielded a string of grizzly, poorly acted cut rate torture pornos barely fleshed out by excessive montages from previous films. Its gang of detractors are more than justified. Yet, there is a creative core to this series to which I have always been drawn. The killing machines are cleverly designed while the nuanced and sympathetic performance of Tobin Bell as John Kramer/Jigsaw kept me coming back, reservations aside. After not one but two attempts to revive the franchise in the past decade, Saw VI and VII director made the unthinkable: a legitimately good Saw movie. What was different? First of all, it hands the series back into the capable hands of Bell, giving him all the virtues the narrative was trepidatious about awarding him before. His hero status is well earned as his victims spring from a new sublevel of evil. Yet, his determination to get them to change their ways amidst the challenges has never been clearer, and the ever evolving character finally has a vehicle where audiences can root for him. Also, unlike previous entries, the film allows Kramer introspective moments and early character driven scenes. Spared of sensational editing and filters, the film feels as thoughtful as Kramer is this time around.

Corny Tagline: See-Saw your way to see Saw again for the first time!

8. The Unknown Country (dir. Morissa Maltz)

Lily Gladstone deserves all the acclaim for her mainstream breakout in Killers of the Flower Moon, her other excellent 2023 release. She is given the opportunity to carry an entire film on her shoulders with this gorgeous ode to the US road. At times the film recalls the best work from the Iranian masters like Abbas Kiarostami blending the reality of the environment with the circumstances of the story. Director Morissa Maltz casts real people playing themselves (including Lainey Bearkiller Shangreaux, who inspired Maltz to make the film and shares a “story” credit) in the fictional narrative of Tana (Gladstone) who drives across America on a quest to reconnect with her native american roots while coming to terms with the death of her grandmother. One clever conceit involves brief interviews with characters (motel clerk, gas station cashier, waitress, etc.) Tana meets along the way. This humanizes them as individuals with personal histories just as meaningful as the people they serve. It shows that so much of this country has histories that are unknown because people do not bother to seek them out. But this is not merely a slice of life. Maltz also creates Terrence Malick-like visuals to help navigate the vast terrain of this country full of diverse people, environments, and stories which, outside our personal bubbles, are, well, unknown. Thanks to Maltz behind the camera and Gladstone in front of it, looking under so many rocks yields no regrets.

Corny Tagline:  The country may be uknown, but its greatness is VERY known!

7. Barbie (dir. Greta Gerwig)

No film was more popular this year, nor was any more important. Coming of age specialist Greta Gerwig brought her own brand of fourth wave feminist existentialism to the mainstream with glorious results. The film cycles on its pink tandem bicycle through one allegorical trope after another (life/job based roles, body positivity, female empowerment, unrealistic beauty standards, matriarchy vs.patriarchy, mother/daughter relationships. etc.) Yet, the feat never feels labored, maintaining the crucial lightness of touch. The message is not subtle, but what about Barbieland is? It is the extravagance of such a land juxtaposed against the real world that illuminates both the beauty and horror of what it means to be human. Pedantic pedagogical perspectives aside, the film still maintains the essence of the best early childhood curriculum: a sense of play. Margot Robbie (or Ryan Gosling’s Ken for that matter) did not need to do much to bring the eponymous character to life. However, she proves to be more than a pretty puppet, endowing the character with an arc leading to earnestness with perfectly timed comic takes along the way. I read many thoughtful essays about this film in my classes this semester, and hope to read even more in years to come.

Corny Tagline: A perfect steak is pink inside; so is a perfect movie!

6. The Boy and the Heron (dir. Hayao Miyazaki)

It has been a rough decade for cinephiles coming to terms with the fact that they would never see a new Hayao Miyazaki film again. Then out of the ashes of the pandemic rose The Boy and the Heron. While his supposed last film The Wind Rises was a lovely but modest swan song, his first feature since 2013 is an old dog gloriously embracing his old tricks. To call upon yet another labored metaphor, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Once again, the audience follows a young boy coming to terms with change (in this case grief) barreling down an enigmatic rabbit hole full of wondrous imagery that can only be birthed through an artist’s paintbrush. Miyazaki’s innate ability to blend elements of the natural world (birds, wind, water, etc.) with supernatural mysticism still creates some of the most dazzling imagery on screen in any medium. True to form, the plot points and symbolism tread a curvy path, but the dreamlike mood that these sequences evoke transcend sense. However, on the other end of this subconscious plunge, Mahito’s journey to acceptance is crystal clear.

Corny Tagline: The Boy and the Heron is a joy and a carin'! How DO you live without it!

5. The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic (dir. Teemu Nikki)

Close ups have always been given the short shrift in terms of artistry. For every awe aspiring gasp at a David Lean sunrise comes a retch at Russell Crowe’s 50 foot mole. Yet, director Teemu Nikki’s bold choice to keep his lead wheelchair bound character in perpetual close up for the better part of 82 minutes makes for an unforgettable experience. Through such close ups, the audience invades Jaako’s (a phenomenal Petri Poikolainen; an actual paralyzed blind man) space as he attempts to navigate the world that, to him, is a literal blur. The viewer learns with him that the world is cruel and exploitative of people with disabilities (in this case, multiple sclerosis). However, this cinephile secretly believes in the happy endings he usually rejects (see the ending of Titanic, the film he never wanted to see). It is impossible not to root for him every stride of the way. Both in culture and on film, people with disabilities struggle with visibility. Though he ironically cannot see it for himself, Jaako could not be more visible in this film, and Poikolainen’s chilling facial expressions tell a story in themselves.

Corny Tagline:  Don't be blind to this Titanic movie!
@professor.rorsky The Top Ten Films of 2023 5. The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic #top10movies2023 #theblindmanwhodidnotwanttoseetitanic #petripoikolainen ♬ Rose - James Horner

4. Di Humani Corporis Fabrica (dir. Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel)

The most visceral and even goriest film of the year did not come from a narrative, let alone the horror genre. This French documentary (from the team that made the equally sumptuous fishing boat doc Leviathan) takes a full throttle plunge into the world of modern surgical practices, creating a lens that is as much sensory as it is ethnographic. Filmmakers Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Véréna Paravel take viewers behind the surgical curtain, including unforgettable footage such as eye surgery, cesarean births, cutting up of organs on a slab, and even some photoplay of private part procedures. The result is a vicarious Fantastic Voyage through the fabric of the body, even more illuminated on the big screen where all the smallest guttural details come to stunning life. However, the human body shares the spotlight with the whole human itself, humanizing the doctors as they crack jokes while at work and celebrate in the night life. The film even explores issues of dementia, following patients as they feel lost in a hospital that might as well be another world. Even though it is a human story in every sense of the word, the filmmakers never settle for a static shot. If Frederick Wiseman is a fly on the wall, Castaing-Taylor and Paravel are flies in flight.

Corny Tagline: Fabri-come and see it!
@professor.rorsky The Top Ten Films of 2023 4. De Humani Corporis Fabrica #toptenfilms2023 #dehumanicorporisfabrica ♬ Blue Monday - New Order

3. All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt (dir. Raven Jackson)

Sometimes the natural world does not feel like this world at all. It is no wonder that first time filmmaker Raven Jackson first cut her teeth as a poet and photographer, as every frame presents a mise en scene worth volumes of blank verse. Following young Mack (Kaylee Nicole Johnson and Zainab Jah, respectively) nonlinearly throughout the trials and tribulations of childhood and adulthood, Jackson presents a raw vision of the rural American south. Nature literally runs its course like a river (a repeating image) with beguiling imagery of earth and water, at peace at times and, at times, an aggressive assault of fat rain drops on mud. However, nature does not exclusively extend to the elements. The display of human vulnerability is also captured in moments that go on for longer than the average cut, coming in at unorthodox lenses. Visuals often come from the waist, focusing on hands, proving how many windows to the soul the body can provide beyond the face.

Corny Tagline: If only all salty dirt roads could taste this sweet!

2. Poor Things (dir. Yorgos Lanthimos)

It is a maddening cliche to praise a film with the words “it has it all.” Yet, it has rarely felt closer to the truth than with this maximalist masterpiece, a turducken of a movie that never bloats and is always delicious. An incredibly bleak tale of oppression from one angle, it maintains a consistently hilarious broad humor from another, alternating literal visual shifts of monochrome to omnichrome, culminating on a stylized storybook set through intermittent fisheye shots. It's a magical experience that needs a run-on sentence (see above) to adequately describe it. Emma Stone gives the performance of a lifetime as Bella Baxter, a reanimated corpse in the style of Frankenstein. She starts as a wobbly infantlike automaton before evolving into a mature independent woman, constantly escaping the clutches of controlling men in her Pinocchio-like foray in the outside world. It is difficult to ignore the connections to its more mainstream cousin Barbie, another stylized romp whose manufactured female lead thwarts the brotherhood of dolts onward toward self realization. However, while Barbie is still a corporate entity at the end of the day, Poor Things gets to say the things the Mattel product cannot.

Corny Tagline: Poor Things will pour things into your mind!

And the best film of 2023 is. . .

  1. Skinamarink (dir. Kyle Edward Ball)

Dust had not yet settled on 2022 when 2023’s first masterpiece arrived last January. Even then, I had faith that it would be the crowning achievement of the year. Almost exactly a year later, here we are. In a genre with a repetitive history, Kyle Edward Ball’s experimental horror is nothing like anything I had ever seen. It is appropriate praise for a film that relies so much on the unseen. The audience feels as lost as its preschool aged protagonists as they navigate a dark house whose windows, doors, and homosapien adults have disappeared. Ball boldly chooses to depict his characters slightly offscreen, transforming them as disconnected voices that may only exist on a celestial level. That leaves the film with macabre imagery of lifeless inanimate objects reflecting the glow of a television showing old public domain cartoons (which provide the most movement in the whole running time.) The experiment pays off as Ball creates stunning tableaus that hold back just enough to make one curious what the next one will be. The film asks a lot of its audience, and its lack of a conventional story, characters, and dialogue is an objective challenge. Still, surrendering to Skinamarink is a harrowing, cathartic experience, simultaneously unnerving and peaceful. It is a unique film that elicits more debate than praise, the lynchpin of greatness.

Corny Tagline: Skinamarinky Dink Dink, Skinamarinky Doo: I. Love. You!

Runners Up (In no particular order):

Killers of the Flower Moon

The Iron Claw

Zone of Interest

Full Time

John Wick Chapter Four

Bread and Salt

Carmen

Smoking Causes Coughing

Tori and Lokita

Showing Up

Human Flowers of Flesh

Joyland

Passages

Asteroid City

20 Days in Mariupol

The First Slam Dunk

Anatomy of a Fall

Dreamin’ Wild

Fremont

The Holdovers

In the Rearview

Robot Dreams

The Mission

Monster

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

Underrated

Carmen

The main players in this late spring gem all made headlines for other stories: Paul Mescal got more attention for another film, Melissa Barrera for her unfortunate tweet that sunk the Scream series, and director Benjamin Millepied for his split with Natalie Portman. It's a shame since the film's inventive choreography and way it was shot is more satisfying than anything in any recent movie musical. It is a dance movie that is somehow not a musical nor a film about professional dancers. Millepied and company actually deliver beautifully shot landscapes with operatic high drama that still manages to find moments of quiet subtlety (thanks largely to its two leads). It attempts to do a lot which could have been a mess. However, like his tiptoes on the dance floor, Millepied finds the right balance.

Overrated

Past Lives

While a decent film for what it is, the maximal and unconventional was so en vogue this past year that the modesty of Celine Song’s “romance” feels as moderate as the word itself. This story of spiritual connection between two reunited childhood friends into adulthood is often told in a cloying succession of gazes into each other’s eyes. While handsomely shot, only a voiceover listing side effects of Lyrica distinguish it from a drug commercial. And in the grand tradition of the “Baxters” Michael Showalter satirized in his eponymous film, the audience is asked to surrender its empathy of the decent boyfriend character (John Magaro; the film’s highlight) to appease this “magical” attachment between the two leads. The film mercifully spares its viewers of a storybook ending, but the tone wobbles on the fine line of subtle and simple.

Most Pleasant Surprise

Dreamin’ Wild

(CW: Casey Affleck) I fell in love with the song “Baby” by Donnie and Joe Emerson after hearing an inspired karaoke version in the 2020 film Babyteeth. It was not until I literally saw this film that I discovered it was not just an old song I had never heard, it was one NO ONE had really heard until about a decade ago. This underseen summer gem (this and Carmen could easily swap places for “Underrated”) tells the story of two brothers, Donnie and Joe (Casey Affleck and Walton Goggins) whose self made record from their childhood is rediscovered into adulthood. Of course, the drama comes from Donnie’s reluctance and stress to embrace his latter day breakthrough as well as his brother, the lesser musician of the two, feeling like the stone holding him down. Bill Pohlad (Love and Mercy) tells a unique inspirational story about the power of music and the dreams to pursue it. Yet, it never gets too soggy. The loaded cast (including Zooey Deschanel, Beau Bridges, Jack Dylan Glazer, Noah Jupe, and Chris Messina) is pitch perfect, and Affleck gives his best performance since Manchester by the Sea.

Biggest Disappointment

Strange Way of Life

On paper, Pedro Almodovar’s English language debut seemed like a homerun. Ethan Hawke and Pedro Pascal as gay cowboys?!?! Cue the confetti! Unfortunately, the thirty minute short feels inchoate for more than just length. The telenovela melodrama that defined Almodovar’s work does not quite mesh here, and the story seems to be over before it starts. Aside from the two handsome stars, there is not much beauty at which to look either. It may be the first truly forgettable film of his career. At least it showed in theaters, a precedent I would like to see more for short films in the future.

Worst of the Year

Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey

My mantra has always been “the only bad movie is a boring one.” I also think that schlock can be just as worthwhile as competence, as long as it makes an impression. Give me Neil Breen over Adam Shankman any day. However, the title is the most fun element of this otherwise dull and unambitious homicidal journey into the hundred acre woods. Pooh and Piglet (but none of the other friends for some reason) are out for revenge against Christopher Robin who abandoned them. However, the two silent behemoths in rubber masks might as well be any generic movie killers, and the director does little to exploit a potentially wild premise. Its painfully generic humans do not help. No one should expect Argento from such a project, but the film does not even fail spectacularly. It is not even fun to pan.

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The Top Ten Films of 2022